.2.

- 3/3 —

BOHX'S PHILOSOPHICAL LIBRARY

BACON'S PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL
WORKS

GEORGE BELL AND SONS

LONDON: PORTUGAL ST., LINCOLN'S INN.
CAMBRIDGE: DEIGHTON, BELL AND CO.
NEW YORK : THE MACMILLAN CO.
HOMI5AY : A. II. WHEELER AND CO.

THE

PHYSICAL AND METAPHYSICAL

WORKS

OF

LORD BACON

INCLUDING THE

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING AND NO V I'M ORGAN I'M

EDITED 1JY

JOSEPH DEVEY, M.A.

L O X D O X

GEORGE BELL AND
1904

Reprinted from SUreotype

PREFACE

LOUD BACON can only be said to have earned the three
first parts of his Instauratio Magna to any degree of perfec
tion. Of these the Sylva Sylvarum is but a dry catalogue
of natural phenomena, the collection of which, however
necessary it might be, Bacon viewed as a sort of mechanical
l.iboi r, and would never have stooped to the task, had not
the field been abandoned by the generality of philosophers,
as unworthy of them. The two other portions of the
Instauratio Magna, which this volume contains, unfold the
design of his philosophy, and exhibit all the peculiarities of
his extraordinary mind, enshrined in the finest passages of
his writings.

Of the De Any mentis, though one of the greatest books
of modern times, only three translations have appeared,
and each of these strikingly imperfect. That of Wats,
issued while Bacon was living, is singularly disfigured with
solecisms, and called forth the just censures of Bacon and hia
friends. The version of Eustace Gary is no less unfor
tunate, owing to its poverty of diction, and antiquated
phraseology. Under the public sense of these failures, ano
ther translation was produced about sixty years ago by
Dr. Shaw, which might have merited approbation, had not
the learned physician been impressed with the idea that ho
could improve Bacon by relieving his work of some ol its
choicest passages, and entirely altering the arrangement.
In the present version, our task has been principally to
rectify Shaw's mistakes, by restoring the author's own

PREFACE.

arrangement, and supplying the omitted portions. Such
of Shaw's notes as were deemed of value have been re
tained, and others added where the text seemed to re
quire illustration. Due care also has been taken to point
out the sources whence Bacon drew his extraordinary stores
of learning, by furnishing authorities for the quotations and
{illusions in the text, so that the reader may view at a glance
the principal authors whom Bacon loved to coiisult, and
whose agency contributed to the formation of his colossal
powers.

The version of the ISovuin Oryanum contained in this
volume is that by Wood, which is the best extant. The
present edition of this immortal work has been enriched with
an ample commentary, in which the remarks of the two
Playfairs, Sir John Herschel, and the German and French
editors, have been diligently consulted, that nothing may
be wanting to render it as perfect as possible,

J. D.

CONTENTS.

THE CHEAT INSTAURATION

Author's Announcement. Preface. and Account of the
Work.. ,„ ... »« „ ..... />«<* 1-20

I. THE DIGNITY AND ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING,
IN NINE BOCK 3.

\* The Contents are aircn in full at payc* 21-26.

IL NOVUM ORGANUM.

Preface ...-«„ « ^. v. -, ^ 360

BOOK I. — ON THE INTERPRETATION OP NATURE AND THE
EMPIRE OF MAN .. .. .. .. .. .. 3S3

BOOK II. —Ox THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE on THE

or MAH „ 4-18

FRANCIS OP VEUULAM'S

GREAT INSTAURATION.

Announcement of the Author.

ITRANCTS OF VERULAM THOUGHT THUS. AND SUCH IS THE METHOD
WHICH HE DETERMINED WITHIN HIMSELF, AND WHICH HE THOUGHT
IT CONCERNED THE LIVING AND POSTERITY TO KNOW.

BEING convinced, by a careful observation, that the human
understanding perplexes itself, or makes not a sober and
advantageous use of the real helps within its reach, whence
manifold ignorance and inconveniences arise, he was deter
mined to employ his utmost endeavours towards restoring
or cultivating a just and legitimate familiarity betwixt the
mind and things.

But as the mind, hastily and without choice, imbibes and
treasures up the first notices of things, from whence all the
rest proceed, errors must for ever prevail, and remain uncor-
rected, either by the natural powers of the understanding
or the assistance of logic ; for the original notions being
vitiated, confused, and inconsiderately taken from things,
and the secondary ones formed no less rashly, human know
ledge itself, the thing employed in all our researches, is not
well put together nor justly formed, but resembles a magni-
iicent structure that has no foundation.

And whilst men agree to admire and magnify the false
powers of the mind, and neglect or destroy those that might
be rendered true, there is no other course left but with
better assistance to begin the work anew, and raise or re
build the sciences, arts, and all human knowledge from a
firm and solid basis.

This may at first seem an infinite scheme, unequal to
human abilities, yet it will be found more sound and judi*
2 u

2 THE GREAT JNSTAtTRATION.

cious than the course hitherto pursued, as tending to some
issue; whereas all hitherto done with regard to the sciences
is vertiginous, or in the way of perpetual rotation.

Nor is he ignorant that he stands alone in an experiment
almost too bold arid astonishing to obtain credit, yet he
thought it not right to desert either the cause or himself,
but to boldly enter on the way and explore the only path
which is pervious to the human mind. For it is wiser tc
engage in an undertaking that admits of some termination,
than to involve oneself in perpetual exertion and anxiety
about what is interminable. The ways of contemplation,
indeed, nearly correspond to two roads in nature, one of
which, steep and rugged at the commencement, terminates
in a plain ; the other, at first view smooth and easy, leads
only to huge rocks and precipices. Uncertain, however,
whether these reflections would occur to another, and ob
serving that he had never met any person disposed to apply
his mind to similar thoughts, he determined to publish what
soever he found time to perfect. Nor is this the haste of
ambition, but anxiety, that if he should die there might
remain behind him some outline and determination of the
matter his mind had embraced, as well as some mark of his
sincere and earnest affection to promote the happiness of
mankind.

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

Of the state of learning — That it is neither prosperous nor grently
advanced, and that a way must be opened to the human understand
ing entirely distinct from that known to our predecessors, and
different aids procured, that the mind may exercise her power over
the nature of things.

IT appears to me that men know neither their acquire^
meats nor their powers, but fancy their possessions greater
and their faculties less than they are; whence, either valuing
the receivec^arts above measure, they look out no farther;
or else despising themselves too much, they exercise their
talents upon lighter matters, without attempting the capital

PREFACS. 3

things of all. And hence the sciences seem to have their
Hercules' Pillars, which bound the desires and hopes of
mankind.

But as a false imagination of plenty is among the
principal causes of want, and as too great a confidence in
things present leads to a neglect of the future, it is
necessary we should here admonish mankind that they do
not too highly value or extol either the number or useful
ness of the things hitherto discovered ; for, by closely in
specting the multiplicity of books upon arts and sciences, we
iind them to contain numberless repetitions of the same
things in point of invention, but differing indeed as to the
manner of treatment ; so that the real discoveries, though at
the first view they may appear numerous, prove upon exa
mination but few. And as to the point of usefulness, the
philosophy we principally received from the Greeks must be
acknowledged puerile, or rather talkative than generative —
as being fruitful in controversies, but barren of effects.

The fable of Scylla seems a civil representation of the
present condition of knowledge; for she exhibited the coun
tenance and expression of a virgin, whilst barking monsters
encircled her womb. Even thus the sciences have their
specious and plausible generalities; but when we descend to
particulars, which, like the organs of generation, should pro
duce fruits and effects, then spring up loud altercations
and controversies, which terminate in barren sterility.
And had this not been a lifeless kind of philosophy, it
were scarce possible it should have made so little progress
in so many ages, insomuch, that not only positions now fre
quently remain positions still, but questions remain ques
tions, rather riveted and cherished than determined by
disputes ; philosophy thus coming down to us in the persons
of master and scholar, instead of inventor and improver.
Jn the mechanic arts the' case is otherwise — these com
monly advancing towards perfection in a course of daily
improvement, from a rough unpolished state, sometimes
prejudicial to the first inventors, whilst philosophy and the
intellectual sciences are, like statues, celebrated and adored,
but never advanced ; nay, they sometimes appear most per
fect in the original author, and afterwards degenerate. For
Eince men have gone over in crowds to the opinion of their

B2

4 THE GREAT INSTAURATIOK.

leader, like those silent senators of Rome,a they add nothing
to the extent of learning themselves, but perform the servile
duty of waiting upon particular authors, and repeating their
doctrines.

It is a fatal mistake to suppose that the sciences have
gradually arrived at a state of perfection, and then been
recorded by some one writer or other ; and that as nothing
better can afterwards be invented, men need but cultivate
and set off what is thus discovered and completed ; whereas,
in reality, this registering of the sciences proceeds only from
the assurance of a few and the sloth and ignorance of many.
For after the sciences might thus perhaps in several parts
be carefully cultivated ; a man of an enterprising genius
rising up, who, by the conciseness of his method, renders
himself acceptable and famous, he in appearance erects an
art, but in reality corrupts the labours of his predecessors.
This, however, is usually well received by posterity, as
readily gratifying their curiosity, and indulging their indo
lence. But he that rests upon established consent as the
judgment approved by time, trusts to a very fallacious and
weak foundation ; for we have but an imperfect knowledge
of the discoveries in arts and sciences, made public in diffe
rent ages and countries, and still less of what has been done
by particular persons, and transacted in private; so that
neither the births nor miscarriages of time are to be found
in our records.

Nor is consent, or the continuance thereof, a thing of any
account ; for however governments may vary, there is but
one state of the sciences, and that will for ever be democratic^]
•or popular. But the doctrines in greatest vogue among the
people, are either the contentious and quarrelsome, or the
showy and empty ; that is, such as may either entrap the
assent, or lull the mind to rest : whence, of course, the
greatest geniuses in all ages have suffered violence ; whilst
out of regard to their own character, they submitted to the
judgment of the times, and the populace. And tlus when
any more sublime speculations happened to appear, they were
ix>mmonly tossed and extinguished by the breath of popular
opinion. Hence time, like a river, has brought down to ut

* Pedarii senntore&.

PREFACE. 5

what is light and tumid, but sunk what was ponderous and
solid. As to those who have set up for teachers of the sciences,
when they drop their character, and at intervals speak their
sentiments, they complain of the subtilty of nature, the
concealment of truth, the obscurity of things, the entangle
ment of causes, and the imperfections of the human under
standing ; thus rather choosing to accuse the common state
of men and things, than make confession of themselves. It is
also frequent with them to adjudge that impossible in an art,
which they find that art does not affect ; by which means they
screen indolence and ignorance from the reproach they merit.
The knowledge delivered down to us is barren in effects,
fruitful in questions, slow and languid in improvement, ex
hibiting in its generalities the counterfeits of perfection, but
meagre in its details, popular in its aim, but suspected by its
very promoters, and therefore defended and propagated by
artifice and chicanery. And even those who by experience
propose to enlarge the bounds of the sciences, scarce ever
entirely quit the received opinions, and go to the fountain-
head, but think it enough to add somewhat of their own ;
as prudentially considering, that at the time they show their
modesty in assenting, they may have a liberty of adding.
But whilst this regard is shown to opinions and moral
considerations, the sciences are greatly hurt by such a languid
procedure ; for it is scarce possible at once to admire and
excel an author : as water rises no higher than the reservoir
it falls from. Such men, therefore, though they improve
some things, yet advance the sciences but little, or rather
amend than enlarge them.

There have been also bolder spirits, and greater geniuses,
who thought themselves at liberty to overturn and destroy
the ancient doctrine, and make way for themselves and their
opinions ; but without any great advantage from the dis
turbance ; as they did not effectively enlarge philosophy and
arts by practical works, but only endeavoured to substitute
new dogmas, and to transfer the empire of opinion to them
selves, with but small advantage ; for opposite errors proceed
mostly from common causes.

As for those who, neither wedded to their own nor others'
opinions, but continuing friends to liberty, made use o.
assistance in t]ieir inquiries, the success they met witji di(J

6 THE GREAT INSTAUIUTIOS.

-iot answer expectation, the attempt, though laudable, being
but feeble ; for pursuing only the probable reasons of
things, they were earned about in a circle of arguments,
and taking a promiscuous liberty, preserved not the rigour of
true inquirers ; whilst none of them duly conversed with
experience and things themselves. Others again, who
commit themselves to mechanical experience, yet make their
experiments at random, without any method of inquiry.
And the greatest part of these have no considerable views,
but esteem it a great matter if they can make a single dis
covery ; which is both a trifling and unskilful procedure,
as no one can justly or successfully discover the nature of any
one thing in that thing itself, or without numerous experi
ments which lead to farther inquiries. And we must not
omit to observe, that all the industry displayed in experiment
has been directed by too indiscreet a zeal at some prejudged
effect, seeking those which produced fruit rather than know
ledge, in opposition to the Divine method, which on the
first day created time alone, delaying its material creations
until the sun had illumined space.

Lastly, those who recommend logic as the best and surest
instrument for improving the sciences, very justly observe,
that the understanding, left to itself, ought always to be
suspected. But here the remedy is neither equal to the
disease, nor approved ; for though the logic in use may be
properly applied in civil affairs, and the arts that are founded
in discourse and opinion, yet it by no means reaches the
subtilty of nature ; and by catching at what it cannot hold,
rather serves to establish errors, and fix them deeper, than
open the way of truth.b

Upon the whole, men do not hitherto appear to be happily
inclined and fitted for the sciences, either by their own in
dustry, or the authority of authors, especially as there is little
dependence to be had upon the common demonstrations and
experiments ; whilst the structure of the universe renders it
a labyrinth to the understanding ; where the paths are not
only everywhere doubtful, but the appearances of things and
their signs deceitful ; and the wreaths and knots of nature

b For exemplifications of these opinions, the reader may consult
Morhofa "Polyhistor.," and the other writers upon polymathy and
literary history. Shaw.

PREFACE. 7

intricately turned and twisted :c through all which we are
only to be , conducted by the uncertain light of the senses,
that sometimes shines, and sometimes hides its head ; and by
collections of experiments and particular facts, in which no
guides can be trusted, a? wanting direction themselves, and
adding to the errors of the rest. In this melancholy state
of things, one might be apt to despair both of the under
standing left to itself, and of all fortuitous helps ; as of a
state irremediable by the utmost efforts of the human
genius, or the often-repeated chance of trial. The only clue
and method is to begin all anew, and direct our steps in a
certain order, from the very first perceptions of the senses.
Yet I must not be understood to say that nothing has been
done in former ages, for the ancients have shown themselves
worthy of admiration in everything which concerned either
"wit or abstract reflection ; but, as in former ages, when men
at sea, directing their course solely by the observation of the
stars, might coast along the shores of the continent, but
could not trust themselves to the wide ocean, or discover new
worlds, until the use of the compass was known : even so
the present discoveries referring to matters immediately
under the jurisdiction of the senses, are such as might easily
result from experience and discussion \ but before we can
enter the remote and hidden parts of nature, it is requisite
that a better and more perfect application of the human
mind should be introduced. This, however, is not to be
understood as if nothing had been effected by the immense
labours of so many past ages ; as the ancients have per
formed surprisingly in subjects that required abstract medi
tation, and force of genius. But as navigation was imperfect
before the use of the compass, so will many secrets of nature
and art remain undiscovered, without a more perfect know
ledge of the understanding, its uses, and ways of working.

For our own part, from an earnest desire of truth, wo
have committed ourselves to doubtful, difficult, and solitary
ways ; and relying on the Divine assistance, have supported
our minds against the vehemence of opinions, our own in
ternal doubts and scruples, and the darkness and fantastic

c By wreaths and knots, is understood the apparent complication of
causes, and the superaddition of properties not essential to things ; aa
light to bent, yellowness to gold, pellucidity to glass, &c. Shaw.

S THE CHEAT INSTAUEATION.

images of the mind ; that at length we might make more
sure and certain discoveries for the benefit of posterity.
And if we shall have effected anything to the purpose, what
led us to it was a true and genuine humiliation of mind. Those
who before us applied themselves to the discovery of arts,
having just glanced upon things, examples, and experiments;
immediately, as if invention was but a kind of contemplation,
raised up their own spirits to deliver oracles : whereas our
method is continually to dwell among things soberly, without
abstracting or setting the understanding farther from them
than makes their images meet ; which leaves but little work
for genius and mental abilities. And the same humility
that we practise in learning, the same we also observe in
teaching, without endeavouring to stamp a dignity on any
of our inventions, by the triumphs of confutation, the cita
tions of antiquity, the producing of authorities, or the mask
of obscurity ; as any one might do, who had rather give
lustre to his own name, than light to the minds of others.
We offer no violence, and spread no nets for the judgments
of men, but lead them on to things themselves, and their
relations ; that they may view their own stores, what they
have to reason about, and what they may add, or procure,
for the common good. And if at any time ourselves have
erred, mistook, or broke off too soon, yet as we only propose
to exhibit things naked, and open, as they are, our errors
may be the readier observed, and separated, before they con
siderably infect the mass of knowledge ; and our labours be
the more easily continued. And thus we hope to establish
for ever a true and legitimate union between the experi
mental and rational faculty, whose fallen and inauspicious
divorces and repudiations have disturbed everything in the
family of mankind.

But as these great things are not at our disposal, we here,
at the entrance of our work, with the utmost humility and
fervency, put forth our prayers to God, that remembering the
miseries of mankind, and the pilgrimage of this life, where
we pass but few days and sorrowful, he would vouchsafe,
through our hands, and the hands of others, to whom he has
given the like mind, to relieve the human race by a new act
of his bounty. We likewise humbly beseech him, that what
is human may not clash with what is divine j and that when

PREFACE.

the ways of the senses are opened, and a greater natural light
Bet up in. the mind, nothing of incredulity and blindness
towards divine mysteries may arise; but rather that the
understanding, now cleared up, and purged of all vanity and
superstition, may remain entirely subject' to the divine
oracles, and yield to faith, the things that are faith's : and
lastly, that expelling the poisonous knowledge infused by
the serpent, which puffs up and swells the human mind, we
may neither be wise above measure, nor go beyond the bounds
of sobriety, but pursue the tmfrfr.jn charity.

We now turn ourselves to men, with a few wholesome
admonitions and just requests. And first, we admonish them
to continue in a sense of their duty, as to divine matters ; for
the senses are like the sun, which displays the face of the
earth, bufc shuts up that of the heavens : and again, that
they run not into the contrary extreme, which they certainly
will do, if they think an inquiry into nature any way forbid
them by religion. It was not that pure and unspotted1
natural knowledge whereby Adam gave names to things,
agreeable to their natures, which caused his fall ; but an
ambitious and authoritative desire of moral knowledge, to
judge of good and evil, which makes men revolt from God,
and obey no laws but those of their own will. But for the
sciences, which contemplate nature, the sacred philosopher
declares, " It is the glory of God to conceal a thing, but the
glory of a king to find it out."d As if the Divine Being
thus indulgently condescended to exercise the human mind
by philosophical inquiries.

In the next place, we advise all mankind to think of the '
true ends of knowledge, and that they endeavour not after it
for curiosity, contention, or the sake of despising others, nor
yet for profit, reputation, power, or any such inferior con
sideration, but solely for the occasions and uses of life ; all
along conducting and perfecting it in the spirit of benevo
lence. Our requests are, — 1. That men do not conceive we
here deliver an opinion, but a work ; and assure themselves
we attempt not to found any sect or particular doctrine, but
to fix an extensive basis for the service of human nature.
2. That, for their own sakes, they lay a«de the zeal and

4 Pro*, XXT. 2, r

10 THE GREAT INSTAURATION.

prejudices of opinions, and endeavour the common good ;
and that being, by our assistance, freed and kept clear from
the errors and hinderances of the way, they would themselves
also take part of the task. 3. That they do not despair, as
imagining our project for a grand restoration, or advancement
of all kinds of knowledge, infinitely beyond the power of
mortals to execute ; whilst in reality, it is the genuine stop
and prevention of infinite error. Indeed, as our state is
mortal, and human, a full accomplishment cannot be expected
in a single age, and must therefore be commended to
posterity. Nor could we hope to succeed, if we arrogantly
searched for the sciences in the narrow cells of the human
understanding, and not submissively in the wider world.
4. In the last place, to prevent ill effects from contention,
we desire mankind to consider how far they have a right
to judge our performance, upon the foundations here
laid down : for we reject all that knowledge which is too
hastily abstracted from things, as vague, disorderly, and ill-
formed ; and we cannot be expected to abide by a judgment
which is itself called in question.

DISTRIBUTION OP THE WORK.

IN SIX PARTS.

1. Survey and Extension of the Sciences; or, the Advancement ol

Learning.

2. Novum Organum ; or, Precepts for the Interpretation of Nature.

3. Phenomena of the Universe ; or, Natural and Experimental History,

on which to found Philosophy.

4. Ladder of the Understanding.

6. Precursors, or Anticipators, of the Second Philosophy.
3. Second Philosophy ; or, Active Science.

divide the whole of the work into six parts : the first
whereof gives the substance, or general description of the
knowledge which mankind at present possess ; choosing to
dwell a little upon things already received, that we may the
easier perfect the old, and lead on to new • being equally in
clined to cultivate the discoveries of antiquity, as to strike
out fresh paths of science. In classing the sciences, we com

DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. 11

prehend not only the things already invented and known,
but also those omitted and wanted ; for the intellectual
globe, as well as the terrestrial, has both its frosts and
deserts. It is therefore no wonder if we sometimes depart
from the common divisions. For an addition, whilst it alters
the whole, must necessarily alter the parts, and their sections ;
whereas the received divisions are only fitted to the received
sum of the sciences, as it now stands. With regard to the
things we shall note as defective ; it will be our method to
give more than the bare titles, or short heads of what we
desire to have done ; with particular care, where the dignity
or difficulty of the subject requires it, either to lay down
the rules for effecting the work, or make an attempt of our
own, by way of example, or pattern, of the whole. For it
concerns our own character, no less than the advantage
of others, to know that a mere capricious idea has not
presented the subject to our mind, and that all we desire and
aim at is a wish. For our designs are within the power of
all to compass, and we ourselves have certain and evident
demonstrations of their utility. We come not hither, as
augurs, to measure out regions in our mind by divination,
but like generals, to invade them for conquest. And this is
the first part of the work.

When we have gone through the ancient arts, we shall
prepare the human understanding for pressing on beyond
them. The second object of the work embraces the doc
trine of a more perfect use of reason, and the true helps
of the intellectual faculties, so as to raise and enlarge the
powers of the mind; and, as far as the condition of humanity
allows, to fit it to conquer the difficulties and obscurities of
nature. The thing we mean, is a kind of logic, by us called
The Art of interpreting Nature ; as differing widely from
the common logic, which, however, pretends to assist and
direct the understanding, and in that they agree : but the
difference betwixt them consists in three things, viz., the end,
the order of demonstrating, and the grounds of inquiry.

The end of our new logic is to find, not arguments, bub
arts ; not what agrees with principles, but principles them
selves : not probable reasons, but plans and designs of works — •
a different intention producing a different effect. In one the
adversary is conquered by dispute, and in the other nature

12 THE GREAT INSTALLATION.

by works. The nature and order of the demonstrations
agree with this object. For in common logic, almost our
whole labour is spent upon the syllogism. Logicians hitherto
appear scarcely to have noticed induction, passing it over
with some slight comment. But we reject the syllogistic
method as being too confused, and allowing nature to escape
out of our hands. For though nobody can doubt that those
things which agree with the middle term agree with each
other, nevertheless, there is this source of error, that a
syllogism consists of propositions, propositions of words, and
words are but the token and signs of things. Now, if the
first notions, which are, as it were, the soul of words, and
the basis of every philosophical fabric, are hastily abstracted
from things, and vague and not clearly defined and limited,
the whole structure falls to the ground. We therefore
reject the syllogism, and that not only as regards first
principles, to which logicians do not apply them, but also with
respect to intermediate propositions, which the syllogism con
trives to manage in such a way as to render barren in effect,
unfit for practice, and clearly unsuited to the active branch
of the sciences. Nevertheless, we would leave to the syllo
gism, and such celebrated and applauded demonstrations,
their jurisdiction over popular and speculative acts; while, in
everything relating to the nature of things, we make use of
induction for both our major and minor propositions; for
we consider induction as that form of demonstration which
closes in upon nature and presses on, and, as it were, mixes
itself with action. Whence the common order of demon
strating is absolutely inverted ; for instead of flying imme
diately from the senses, and particulars, to generals, as to
certain fixed poles, about which disputes always turn, and
deriving others from these by intermediates, in a short,
indeed, but precipitate manner, fit for controversy, but unfit
to close with nature ; we continually raise up propositions
by degrees, and in the last place, come to the most general
axioms, which are not notional, but well defined, and what
nature allows of, as entering into the very essence of things.8

a Tliis passage, though tersely and energetically expressed, is founded
upon a misconception of deduction, or, as Bacon phrases it, syllogistic
reasoning, and its relation to induction. The two processes are only
reverse methods of inferences, the one concluding from a general to a
particular, and the other from » particular to a general, and bo*b

DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. 13

But tlie more difficult part of our task consists in the form
of induction, and the judgment to be made by it ; for that
form of the logicians which proceeds by simple enumeration,
is a childish thing, concludes unsafely, lies open to con
tradictory instances, and regards only common matters ; yet
determines nothing : whilst the sciences require such a form
of induction, as can separate, adjust, and verify experience,
and come to a necessary determination by proper exclusions
and rejections.

Nor is this all ; for we likewise lay the foundations of the
sciences stronger and closer, and begin our inquiries deeper
than men have hitherto done, bringing those things to tho
test which the common logic has taken upon trust. The
logicians borrow the principles of the sciences from the
sciences themselves, venerate the first notions of the mind,
and acquiesce in the immediate informations of the senses,
when rightly disposed \ but we judge, that a real logic should
enter every province of the sciences with a greater authority

schemata are resolvable into propositions, and propositions into words,
which, as he says, are but the tokens and signs of things. Now if
these first notions, which are as it were the soul of words and the basis
of every philosophic fabric, be hastily abstracted from things, and vague
and not clearly defined .and limited, the whole structure, whether
erected by induction or deduction, or both, as is most frequently the
case, must fall to the ground. The error, therefore, does not lie in the
deductive mode of proof, without which physical science could never
advanco beyond its empirical stage, but in clothing this method
in the vulgar language of the day, and reasoning upon its terms as if
they pointed at some fact or antithesis in nature, instead of pre
viously testing the accuracy of such expressions by experiment and
observation. As such notions are more general than the individual
cases out of which they arise, it follows that this inquiry must be made
through the medium of induction, and the essential merit of l>acon lies
in framing a system of rules by which this ascending scale of inference
may be secured from error. As the neglect of this important prelimi
nary to scientific investigation vitiated all the Aristotelian physics, and
kept the human mind stationary for two thousand years, hardly too
much praise can be conferred upon the philosopher who not only pointed
out the gap but supplied the materials for its obliteration. The ardency
of his nature, however, urged him to extremes, and he confounded the
accuracy of the deductive method with the straw and stubble on which
it attempted to erect a system of physics. In censuring intermediate
propositions, Bacon appears to have been unaware that he was con*
uemning; the only forms through which reason or inference can manifest
*i35:ir, and lecturing mankind on the futility of an inptr'iiue&t which he
*j*s employing in every page of his book. £ti.

14 THE GREAT INSTAURATIOK.

than their own principles can give ; and that such supposed
principles should be examined, till they become absolutely
clear and certain. As for first notions of the rnind, we
suspect all those that the understanding, left to itself,
procures ; nor ever allow them till approved and authorized
by a second judgment. And with respect to the informations
of the senses, we have many ways of examining them ; for the
senses are fallacious, though they discover their own errors ;
but these lie near, whilst the means of discovery are
remote.

The senses are faulty in two respects, as they either fail or
deceive us. For there are many things that escape the
senses, though ever so rightly disposed ; as by the subtilty of
t he whole body, or the minuteness of its parts ; the distance
of place; the slowness or velocity of motion; the common
ness of the object, &c. Neither do the senses, when they lay
hold of a thing, retain it strongly; for evidence, and the in
formations of sense, are in proportion to a man, and not in
proportion to the universe.1* And it is a grand error to assert
that sense is the measure of things.15

b Bacon held, that every perception is nothing more than the con«
sciousness of some body acting either interiorly or from without upon
that portion of the frame which is the point of contact. Hence all thd
knowledge we have of the material world arises from the movements
which it generates in our senses. These sensations simply inform us
that a wide class of objects exist independent of ourselves, which affect
us in a certain manner, and do not convey into our minds the real pro
perties of such objects so much as the effects of the relation in which they
stand to our senses. Human knowledge thus becomes relative ; and
that which we call the relation of objects to one another, is nothing moro
than the relation which they have to our organization. Hence as these
relations of objects, either internal or exterior to the mind vary, sensn-
tions must vary along with them, and produce, even in the same indi
vidual, a crowd of impressions either conflicting or in some measure
opposed to each other. So far as these feelings concern morals, it
is the business of ethics to bring them under the influence of reason,
and, selecting out of them such as are calculated to dignify and elevate
man's nature, to impart to them a trenchant and permanent character.
As respects that portion which flow in upon the mind from the internal
world, it is the peculiar province of induction as reformed by our author,
to separate such as are illusory from the real, and to construct out of
the latter a series of axioms, expressing in hierarchical gradation the
general system of laws by which the universe is governed. Ed.

* The doctrine of the two last paragraphs may appear contradictory
lo the oj iriion of some p.-^osophers, who maintain the infallibility of

DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. 15

To remedy this, we have from all quarters brought to*
Aether, and fitted helps for the senses ; and that rather by
experiments than by instruments ; apt experiments being
much more subtile than the senses themselves, though
assisted with the most finished instruments. "We, therefore,
lay no great stress upon the immediate and natural perce}>
tions of the senses, but desire the senses to judge only
of experiments, and experiments to judge of things : on
which foundation, we hope to be patrons of the senses, and
interpreters of their oracles. And thus we mean to procure
the things relating to the light of nature, and the setting
it up in the mind ; which might well suffice, if the mind
were as white paper. But since the minds of men are so
strangely disposed, as not to receive the true images of
things, it is necessary also that a remedy be found for this
evil.

The idols, or false notions, which possess the mind, are
either acquired or innate. The acquired arise either from
the opinions or sects of philosophers, or from preposterous
laws of demonstration ; but the innate cleave to the nature
of the understanding, which is found much more prone to
error than the senses. For however men may amuse them
selves, and admire, or almost adore the mind, it is certain,
that like an irregular glass, it alters the rays of things, by its
figure, and different intersections.

The two former kinds of idols may be extirpated, though
with difficulty; but this third is insuperable. All that can
be done, is to point them out, and mark, and convict that
treacherous faculty of the mind; lest when the ancient errors
are destroyed, new ones should sprout out from the rankness
of the soil : and, on the other hand, to establish this for
ever, that the understanding can make no judgment but by

tin senses, as well ,13 of reason ; but the dispute perhaps turns rather
upon words than things. Father Malbranche is express, that the
eenses never deceive us, yet as express that they should never be
trusted, without being verified ; charging the errors arising in this case
upon human liberty, which makes a wrong choice. See "Ilechercho.i
de la Veritu," liv. i. chaps. 5, C, 7, 8. The difference may arise only
from considering the senses in two different lights, viz. physically, or
according to common use ; and metaphysically, or abstractedly. Tho
tiovwn Oryanum clears the whole. See alao Marin Merseaus. " De la
Vente* des Sciences." Ed.

16 THE GREAT IttSTAURATIOIT,

induction, and the just form thereof. Whence the doctrine
of purging the understanding requires three kinds of con
futations, to fit it for the investigation of truth ; viz., the
confutation of philosophies, the confutation of demonstrations,
and the confutation of the natural reason. But when these
have been completed, and it has been clearly seen what
results are to be expected from the nature of things, and the
nature of the human mind, we shall have then furnished a
nuptial couch for the mind and the universe, the divine
goodness being our bridemaid. And let it be the prayer of
our Epithalamium, that assistance to man may spring from
this union, and a race of discoveries, which will contribute to
his wants and vanquish his miseries. And this is the second
part of the work.

But as we propose not only to pave and show the way,
but also to tread in it ourselves, we shall next exhibit the
phenomena of the universe ; that is, such experience of all
kinds, and such a natural history, as may afford a foundation
to philosophy. For as no fine method of demonstration, or
form of explaining nature, can preserve the mind from
error, and support it from falling ; so neither can it hence
receive any matter of science. Those, therefore, who deter
mine not to conjecture and guess, but to find out and know;
not to invent fables and romances of worlds, but to look into,
and dissect the nature of this real world, must consult only
things themselves. Nor can any force of genius, thought, or
argument, be substituted for this labour, search, and in
spection ; not even though all the wits of men were united :
this, therefore, must either be had, or the business be deserted
for ever.

But the conduct of mankind has hitherto been such, that
it is no wonder nature has not opened herself to them. For
the information of the senses is treacherous and deceitful ;
observation careless, irregular, and accidental ; tradition
idle, rumorous, and vain ; practice narrow arid servile ;
experience blind, stupid, vague, and broken ; and natural
history extremely light and empty : wretched materials for
the understanding to fashion into philosophy and the sciences !
Then comes in a preposterous subtilty of argumentation and
sifting, as a last remedy, that mends not the matter one jot,
nor separates the errors. Whence there are absoluteljr 00

DISTRIBUTION OP THE TROKjJ. 17

hopes of enlarging and promoting the sciences, without
rebuilding them.

The first materials for this purpose must be taken from a
new kind of natural history. The understanding must also
have fit subjects to work upon, as well as real helps to work
with. But our history, no less than our logic, differs from
the common in many respects ; particularly, 1. In its end,
or office ; 2. Its collection ; 3. Its subtilty ; 4. Its choice ;,
and 5. Its appointment for what is to follow.

Our natural history is not designed so much to please by
its variety, or benefit by gainful experiments, as to afford light
to the discovery of causes, and hold out the breasts to
philosophy ; for though we principally regard works, and the
active parts of the sciences, yet we wait for the time of
harvest, and would not reap the blade for the ear. We are
well aware that axioms, rightly framed, will draw after them
whole sheaves of works : but for that untimely and childish
desire of seeing fruits of new works before the season, we
absolutely condemn and reject it, as the golden apple that
hinders the progress.

With regard to its collection ; we propose to show nature
not only in a free state, as in the history of meteors,
minerals, plants, and animals ; but more particularly as she
is bound, and tortured, pressed, formed, and turned out of
her course by art and human industry. Hence we would set
down all opposite experiments of the mechanic and liberal
arts, with many others not yet formed into arts ; for the
nature of things is better discovered by the tcrturings of art,
than when they are left to themselves. Nor is it only a his
tory of bodies that we would give; but also of their cardinal
virtues, or fundamental qualities; as density, rarity, heat,
cold, &c., which should be comprised in particular histories.

The kind of experiments to be procured for our history
are much more subtile and simple than the common ; abun
dance of them must be recovered from darkness, and are
such as no one would have inquired after, that was not led
by constant and certain tract to the discovery of causes ; as
being in themselves of 110 great use, and consequently not
sought for their own sake, but with regard to works : like
the letters of the alphabet with regard to discourse.

In the choice oi' our narratives and experiments we hope
2 c

18 THE GREAT INSTAUK A.TION.

to Lave shown more care than the other writers of natural
history; as receiving nothing but upon ocular demonstration,
or the strictest scrutiny of examination ; and not heightening
what is delivered to increase its miraculousness, but thoroughly
purging it of superstition and fable. Besides this, we reject,
with a particular mark, all those boasted and received false
hoods, which by a strange neglect have prevailed for so man)'
ages, that they may no longer molest the sciences. For aa
the idle tales of nurses do really corrupt the minds or
children, we cannot too carefully guard the infancy ol"
philosophy from all vanity and superstition. And when any
new or more curious experiment is offered, though it may
seem to us certain and well founded; yet we expressly add
the manner wherein it was made; that, after it shall 1x3
understood how things appear to us, men may beware of
any error adhering to them, and search after more infallible
proofs. We, likewise, all along interpose our direction?,
scruples, and cautions j and religiously guard against phan
toms and illusions.

Lastly, having well observed how far experiments and
history distract the mind ; and how difficult it is, especially
for tender or prejudiced persons, to converse with nature
from the beginning, we shall continually subjoin out
observations, as so many first glances of natural history at
philosophy ; and this to give mankind some earnest, that
they shall not be kept perpetually floating upon the waves of
history ; and that when they come to the work of the
understanding, and the explanation of nature, they may
find all things in greater readiness. This will conclude the
third part.

After the understanding has been thus aided and fortified,
we shall be prepared to enter upon philosophy itself. But
in so difficult a task, there are certain things to be observed,
as well for instruction as for present use. The first is to
propose examples of inquiry and investigation, according to
our own method, in certain subjects of the noblest kind,
but greatly differing from each other, that a specimen may
be had of every sort. By these examples we mean not
illustrations of rules and precepts, but perfect models, which
exemplify the second part of this work, and represent,

it were, to the eye, the whole progress of the mind, and

DfSTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. 19

the continued structure and order of invention, in the most
chosen subjects, after the same manner as globes and machines
facilitate the more abstruse and subtile demonstrations in
mathematics. We assign the fourth part of our work to
these examples, which are nothing else than a particular
application of the second part of our undertaking. d

The fifth part is only temporary, or of use but till the resf
are finished ; whence we look upon it as interest till th
principal be paid ; for we do not propose to travel hood
winked, so as to take no notice of what may occur of use in
the way. This part, therefore, will consist of such things as
we have invented, experienced, or added, by the same
common use of the understanding that others employ. For
as we have greater hopes from our constant conversation
with nature, than from our force of genius, the discoveries
we shall thus make may serve as inns on the road, for the
mind to repose in, during its progress to greater certainties.
But this, without being at all disposed to abide by anything
that is not discovered, or proved, by the true form of
induction. Nor need any one be shocked at this suspension
of the judgment, in a doctrine which does not assert that
nothing is knowable ; but only that things cannot be knowr.
except in a certain order and method : whilst it allows parti
cular degrees of certainty, for the sake of commodiousness and
use, until the mind shall enter on the explanation of causes.
Nor were those schools of philosophers,0 who held positive
truth to be unattainable, inferior to others who dogmatized
at will. They did not, however, like us, prepare helps
lor the guidance of the senses and understanding, as we
have done, but at once abolished all belief and authority,
which is a totally different and almost opposite matter.

The sixth and last part of our work, to which all the rest
are subservient, is to lay down that philosophy which shall
flow from the just, pure, and strict inquiry hitherto proposed.
But to perfect this, is beyond both our abilities and our
Hopes, yet we shall lay the foundations of it, and recommend

J- This part is what the author elsewhere terms &cdla intdkctus, or
the progress of the understanding, and was intended to be supplied \>v
him in the way of monthly productions. See his dedication of the
"History of the Winds" to Prince Charles. Shaw.

* The later Academy, who held the a.Kara\iiyia.
C — '

20 TIIK r.T'.EAT IXSTAURATIOJf.

the superstructure to posterity. "We design no contemptible
beginning to the work ; and anticipate that the fortune of
mankind will lead it to such a termination as is not possible for
the present race of men to conceive. The point in view is not
only the contemplative happiness, but the whole fortunes,
and affairs, and powers, and works of men. For man being
the minister and interpreter of nature, acts and understands
so far as he has observed of the order, the works and mind
of nature, and can proceed no farther ; for no power is able
to loose or break the chain of causes, nor is nature to be
conquered but by submission : whence those twin intentions,
human knowledge and human power, are really coincident ;
and the greatest hinderance to works is the ignorance of
causes.

The capital precept for the whole undertaking is this, that
the eye of the mind be never taken off from things themselves,
but receive their images truly as they are. And God forbid
that ever we should offer the dreams of fancy for a model of
the world ; but rather in his kindness vouchsafe to us the
means of writing a revelation and true vision of the traces
and moulds of the Creator in his creatures. •

May thou, therefore, O Father, who gavest the light of
vision as the first fruit of creation, and who hast spread over
the fall of man the light of thy understanding as the accom
plishment of thy works, guard and direct this work, which,
issuing from thy goodness, seeks in return thy glory ! When
thou liadst surveyed the works which thy hands had wrought,
all seemed good in thy sight, and Thou restedst. But when
man turned to the works of his hands, he found all vanity
and vexation of spirit, and experienced no rest. If, however,
we labour in thy works, Thou wilt make us to partake of thy
vision and sabbath ; we, therefore, humbly beseech Thee to
strengthen our purpose, that Thou may&t be willing to
i-ndow thy family of mankind with new gifts, through our
hands, and the hands ol those in whom Thou shult i
\ the same spiiit.

FIRST 1'AllT

OF THE

GREAT IKSTAURATIOK

THE DIGNITY AND ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING,

IN NINE BOOKS.

CONTENTS.
BOOK I.

The different Objections to Learning stated and confuted. Its Dignity
and Merit maintained.

BOOK II.

CHAPTER I.

General Division of Learning into History, Poetry, and Philosophy, in
relation to the Three Faculties of the Mind, Memory, Imagination,
and Keason. The same Distribution applies to Theology.

CHAFFER II.

History divided into Natural and Civil ; — Civil subdivided into Eccle
siastical and Literary. The Division 01 Natural History, according
to the Subject-matter, into the History of Generations, Prseter-gene*
rations, and the Arts.

CHAPTER III.

Second Division of Natural History, in relation to its Use and End, into
Narrative ami Inductive. The most important end of Natural His
tory is to aid in erecting a Body of Philosophy which appertains to
Induction. Division of the History of Generations into the History
of the Heavens, the History 01 Meteors, the History of the Earth and
Sea, the History ot Maesire or Collective Bodies, and the History of
Soecies.

CHAPTER IV.

Civil History divided into Ecclesiastical and Literary. Deficiency t(
th« latter. The absence of Precepts for its compilation.

22 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING.

CHAPTER V.

The Dignity of Civil History and the Obstacles it has to cnccunter.

CHAPTER VI.

Division of Civil History into Memoirs, Antiquities, and Perfecl

History.

CHAPTER VII.
Division of PerL-ct History into Chronicles, Biographies, and Relatioof

The Development of their parts.

CHAPTER VIII.

Division of the History of Times into Universal and Particular. Tho
Advantages and Disadvantages of both.

CHAPTER IX.

Second Division of the History of Times, into Annals and Journals.

CHAPTER X.

Second Division of Special Civil History into Pure and Mixed.

CHAPTER XL

Ecclesiastical History divided into the General History of the Church,
History of Prophecy, and History of Providence.

CHAPTER XII.

Tho Appendix of History embraces the Words of Men, as the Body of

History includes their Exploits. Its Division into Speeches, Letters,

and Apophthegms.

CHAPTER XIII.
The Second leading Branch of Learning — Poetry. Its Division into

Narrative, Dramatic, and Parabolic. Three Examples of the latter

species detailed.

BOOK III.

CHAPTER I.

Division of Learning into Theology and Philosophy. The latter divided
into the Knowledge of God, of Nature, and of Man. Construction of
Philosophia Prima as the Mother of all the Sciences.

CHAPTER II.

Natural Theology with its Appendix, the Knowledge of Angels and

Spirits.

CHAPTER III.
Natural Philosophy divided into Speculative and Practical.

sity of keeping these Two Branches distinct.

CONTENTS.

CHAPTER IV.

Division of the Speculative Branch of Natural Philosophy into Physics
and Metaphysics. Physics relate to the Investigation of Efficient
Causes and Matter ; Metaphysics to that of Final Causes and the
Form. Division of Physics into the Sciences of the Principles of
Things, the Structure of Things, and the Variety of Things. Division
of Physics in relation to the Variety of Things into Abstract and
Concrete. Division of Concretes agrees with the Distribution of tho
Parts of Natural History. Division of Abstracts into the Doctrine
of Material Forms and Motion. Appendix of Speculative Physics
twofold: viz., Natural Problem* and the Opinions of Ancient Philo
sophers. Metaphysics divided into the Knowledge ol Forms and the
Doctrine of Final Causes.

CHAPTER V.

Division of the Practical Branch of Natural Philosophy into Mechanics
and Magic (Experimental Philosophy), which correspond to the Spe
culative Division — Mechanics to Physics, and Magic to Metaphysics.
The word Magic cleared from False Interpretation. Appendix to
Active Science twofold : viz., an Inventory of Human Helps and a
Catalogue of Things of Multifarious Use.

CHAPTER VI.

The Great Appendix of Natural Philosophy both Speculative and Prac
tical. Mathematics. Its Proper Position not among the Substantial
Sciences, but in their Appendix. Mathematics divided into Pure
and Mixed.

BOOK IV.

CHAPTER I.

Division of the Knowledge of Man into Human and Civil Philosophy.
Human Philosophy divided into the Doctrine of the Body and Soul.
The Construction of one General Science, including the Nature and
State of Man. The latter divided into the Doctrine of the Human
Person and the Connection of the Soul with the Body. Division of
Ihe Doctrine of the Person of Man into that of his Miseries and Pre
rogatives. Division of the Relations between the Soul and the Body
into the Doctrines of Indications and Impressions. Physiognomy and
the Interpretation of Dreams assigned to the Doctrine of Indications.

CHAPTER II.

Division of the Knowledge of the Human Body into the Medicinal,
Cosmetic, Athletic and the Voluptuary Arts. Division of Medicine
into Three Functions : viz., the Preservation of Health, the Cure of
Diseases, and the Prolongation ol Life. The last distinct from the
two former.

24: ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

CHAPTER III.

Division of the Doctrine of the Human Soul into that of the Inspired
Essence and the Knowledge of the Sensible or Produced Soul.
Second Division of the same philosophy into the Doctrine of tho
Substance and the Faculties of the Soul. The Use and Objects of
the latter. Two Appendices to the Doctrine of the Faculties of the
Soul : viz., Natural Divination and Fascination (Mesmerism). The
Faculties of the Sensible Soul divided into those of Motion and Sense.

BOOK V.

CHAPTER I.

Division of the Use .and Objects of the Faculties of the Soul into Logic
and Ethics. Division of Logic into the Arts of Invention, Judg
ment, Memory, and Tradition.

CHAPTER II.

Division of Invention into the Invention of Arts and Arguments. The
former, though the more important of them, is wanting. Division of
the Invention of Arts into Literate (Instructed) Experience and a
New Method (Novum Organum). An Illustration of Literate Expe
rience.

CHAPTER III.

Division of the Invention of Arguments into Promptuary, or Places of
Preparation, and Topical, or Places of Suggestion. The Division of
Topics into General and Particular. An Example of Particular Topics
afforded by an Inquiry into the Nature of the Qualities of Light and
Heavy.

CHAPTER IV.

The Art of Judgment divided into Induction and the Syllogism. Induc
tion developed in the Novum Organum. The Syllogism divided into
Direct and Inverse Reduction. Inverse Reduction divided into the
Doctrine of Analytics and Confutations. The Division of the latter
into Confutations of Sophisms, the Unmasking of Vulgarisms (Equi-
rocal Terms), and the Destruction of Delusive Images or Idols.
Delusive Appearances divided into Idola Tribds, Idola Speeds, and
Jdola Fori. Appendix to the Art of Judgment. The Adapting the
Demonstration to the Nature of the Subject.

CHAPTER V.

J? ivision of the Retentive Art into the Aids of the Memory and the
Nature of the Memory itself. Division of the Doctrine of Memory
into Prenotion and Emblem.

CONTENTS. 25

BOOK VL

CHAPTER I.

Division of Tradition into the Doctrine of tbo Organ, the Method jvr.,1
the Illustration of Speech. The Organ of Speech divided into the
Knowledge of the Marks of Things, of Speaking, and Writing. The
two last comprise the two Branches of Grammar. The Marks of
Things divided into Hieroglyphics and Real Characters. Grammar
fcgain divided into Literary and Philosophical. Prosody referred to
the Doctnne of Speech and Ciphers to the Department of Writing.

CHAPTER II.

Method of Speech includes a Wide Part of Tradition. Styled the
Wisdom of Delivery. Various kinds of Methods enumerated. Theii
respective Merits.

CHAPTER III.

The Grounds and Functions of Rhetoric. Three Appendices wh'ch
belong only to the Preparatory Part, viz., the Colours of Good and
Evil, both simple and composed ; the Antithesis of Things (the pro
and con. of General Questions) ; the Minor Forms of Speech (tim
Elaboration of Exordiums, Perorations, and Leading Arguments).

CHAPTER IV.

Two General Appendices to Tradition, viz., the Arts of Teaching und
Criticism.

BOOK VII.

CHAPTER I.

Ethics divided into the Doctrine of Models and the Georgics (Culture)
of the Mind. Division of Models into the Absolute and Comparativ ,
Good. Absolute Good divided into Personal and National.

CHAPTER II.

Division of Individual Good into Active and Passive. That of Passiva
Good into Conservative and Perfective. Good of the Commonwealth
divided into General and Respective.

CHAPTER III.

The Culture of the Mind divided into the Knowledge of Characteristic
Differences of Affections, of Remedies and Cures. Appendix relating
to the Harmony between the Pleasures of the Mind and the Body.

26 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

BOOK VIII.

CHAPTER I.

Civil Knowledge divided into the Art of Conversation, the Art of Ncg(-
tiation, and the Art of State Policy.

CHAPTER IT.

The Art of Negotiation divided into the Knowledge of Dispersed Occa
sions (Conduct in Particular Emergencies), and into the Science of
Rising in Life. Examples of the former drawn from Solomon. Pro-
cepts relating to Self-advancement.

CHAPTER III.

The Arts of Empire or State Policy omitted. Two Deficiencies alone
noticed. The Art of Enlarging the Bounds of Empire, and the
Knowledge of Universal Justice drawn from the Fountains of Law.

BOOK IX.

The Compartments of Theology omitted. Three Deficiencies pointed
out. The Right Use of Reason in Matters oi Faith. The Know
ledge of the Degrees of Unity iu the City oi God. The Ejnanatioua
of the Iloly Scriptures

OX THE DIGNITY AND

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.
FIRST BOOK.

fhe Different Objections to Learning stated and confuted ; it* Dignity
and Merit maintained.

TO THE KING.

As under the old law, most excellent king, there were
daily sacrifices and free oblations :l — the one arising out of
ritual observance, and the other from a pious generosity, so
J deem that all faithful subjects owe their kings a double
tribute of affection and duty. In the first I hope I shall
never be found deficient, but as regards the latter, though
doubtful of the worthiness of my choice, I thought it more
befitting to tender to your Majesty that service which rather
refers to the excellence of your individual person than to
the business of the state.

In bearing your Majesty in mind, as is frequently my
custom and duty, I have been often struck with admiration,
apart from your other gifts of virtue and fortune, at the
surprising development of that part of your nature which
philosophers call intellectual. The deep and broad capacity
of your mind, the grasp of your memory, the quickness of
your apprehension, the penetration of your judgment, your
lucid method of arrangement, and easy facility of speech : —
at such extraordinary endowments I am forcibly reminded
of the saying of Plato, " that all science is but remem
brance," b and that the human mind is originally imbued
with all knowledge ; that which she seems adventitiously to
acquire in life being nothing more than a return to her first
conceptions, which had been overlaid by the grossness of the

• See Numb, xxviii. 23 ; Levit. xxii. 18.

0 Plato's Phaedo, i. 72 (Steph.) j TheifcU i. 166, 191; Menon, ii. 81 j
&nd Aristot. de Meinor. 2.

28 ADVANCEMENT OF LKAHNING. (BOOK t

body. In no person so much as your Mnjesty docs this
opinio/Jt appear more fully confirmed, your soul being apt to
kindle at the intrusion of the slightest object; and even at
the spark of a thought foreign to the purpose to burst into
flame. -As the Scripture says of the wisest king, " That his
heart was as the sands of the sea,"c which, though one of
the largest bodies, contains the finest and smallest particles
of matter. In like manner God has endowed your Majesty
with a mind capable of grasping the largest subjects and
comprehending the least, though such an instrument seems
an impossibility in nature. As regards your readiness of
speech, I am reminded of that saying of Tacitus concerning
Augustus Ca3sar, " Augusto profluensut quse principem virum
deceret, eloquentia fuit."d For all eloquence which is affected
or overlaboured, or merely imitative, though otherwise ex
cellent, carries with it an air of servirity, nor is it free to
follow its own impulses. But your Majesty's eloquence is
indeed royal, streaming and branching out in nature's fashion
as from a fountain, copious and elegant, original and inimit
able. And as in those things which concern your crown and
family, virtue seems to contend with fortune — your Majesty
being possessed of a virtuous disposition and a prosperous
government, a virtuous observance of the duties of the con
jugal state with most blessed and happy fruit of marriage, a
virtuous and most Christian desire of peace at a time when
contemporary princes seem no less inclined to harmony, — so
likewise in intellectual gifts there appears as great a con
tention between your Majesty's natural talents and the
universality and perfection of your learning. Nor indeed
would it be easy to find any monarch since the Christian
era who could bear any comparison with your Majesty in
the variety and depth of your erudition. Let any one run
over the whole line of kin^s, and he will agree with me. It
indeed seems a great thing in a monarch, if he can find
time to digest a compendium or imbibe the simple elements
of science, or love and countenance learning; but that a
king, and he a king born, should have drunk at the true
fountain of knowledge, yea, rather, should have a fountain of

c 3 Kings iv. 29. We may observe that Bacon invariably quotef
from the Vulgate, to which our references point.
* Tacitus, Annales, xiii, 3.

BOOK I.] CAVILS AGAINST LEARNING. OBJECTIONS OF DIVINES. 29

learning in himself, is indeed little short of a miracle. And
the more since in your Majesty's heart are united all the
treasures of sacred and profane knowledge, so that like
Hermes your Majesty is invested with a triple glory, being
distinguished no less by the power of a king than by the
Mlumination of a priest and the learning of a philosopher.6
Since, then, your Majesty surpasses other monarchs by this
property, which is peculiarly your own, it is but just that
this dignified pre-eminence should not only be celebrated in
the mouths of the present age, and be transmitted to pos
terity, but also that it should be engraved in some solid
work which might serve to denote the power of so great a
king and the height of his learning.

Therefore, to return to our undertaking: no oblation
seemed more suitable than some treatise relating to that
purpose, the sum of which should consist of two parts, — the
ti ret of the excellence of learning, and the merit of those
who labour judiciously and with energy for its propagation
and development. The second, to point out what part of
knowledge has been already laboured and perfected, and
what portions left unfinished or entirely neglected; in order,
since I dare not positively advise your Majesty to adopt any
particular course, that by a detailed representation of our
wants, I may excite your Majesty to examine the treasures
of your royal heart, and thence to extract, whatever to your
magnanimity and wisdom may seem best fitted to enlarge
the boundaries of knowledge.

On the threshold of the first part it is advisable to
sift the merits of knowledge, and clear it of the disgrace
Ivrought upon it by ignorance, whether disguised (1) in the
zeal of divine?, (2) the arrogance of politicians, or (3) the
errors of men of letters.

Some divines pretend, 1. " That knowledge is to be re
ceived with great limitation, as the aspiring to it was the
original sin, and the cause of the fall ; 2. That it has some
what of the serpent, and puffeth up;" 3. That Solomon says,
" Of making books there is no end : much study is weari
ness of the flesh ; for in much wisdom is much grief; and he
that jncreaseth knowledge, increaseth sorrow:"1' 4. "That

l> Pcemunder of Hermes Trisiuegi? lu».
f tfccles. x:i. 12, ami i. IS

30 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I.

St. Paul cautions against being spoiled through vain pliilo-
Bophy:"s 5. "That experience shows learned men have been
heretics; and learned times inclined to atheism; and that
the contemplation of second causes takes from our depend
ence upon God, who is the first."

To this we answer, 1. It was not the pure knowledge of
nature, by the light whereof man gave names to all the
creatures in Paradise, agreeable to their natures, that occa
sioned the fall ; but the proud knowledge of good and evil,
with an intent in man to give law to himself, and depend no
more upon God. 2. Nor can any quantity of natural know
ledge puff up the mind ; for nothing fills, much less distends
the soul, but God. Whence as Solomon declares, " That the
eye is not satisfied with seeing, nor the ear with hearing ;"h
so of knowledge itself he says, " God hath made all things
beautiful in their seasons; also he hath placed the world in
nvan's heart; yet cannot man find out the work which God
worketh from the beginning to the end;"1 hereby declaring
plainly that God has framed the rnind like a glass, capable of
the image of the universe, and desirous to receive it as the
eye to receive the light ; and thus it is not only pleased with
the variety and vicissitudes of things, but also endeavours to
find out the laws they observe in their changes and altera
tions. And if such be the extent of the mind, there is no
danger of filling it with any quantity of knowledge. But it
is merely from its quality when taken without the true cor
rective, that knowledge has somewhat of venom or malignity.
The corrective wrhich renders it sovereign is charity, for
according to St. Paul, " Knowledge puffeth lip, but charity
buildeth." k 3. For the excess of writing and reading books,
the anxiety of spirit proceeding from knowledge, and the
admonition, that we be not seduced by vain philosophy;, when
these passages are rightly understood, they mark out the
boundaries of human knowledge, so as to comprehend the
universal nature of things. These limitations are three : the
first, that we should not place our felicity in knowledge, so
as to forget mortality ; the second, that we use knowledge
so as to give ourselves ease and content, not distaste and
repining; and the third, that we presume not by the con*

* 1 Cor. viii. 1. * Eccles. i. 8.

1 Eccles. iii. 11. k 1 Cor. viii. 1,

BOOK I.] TRIPLE LIMITATION OF LEARNING. 31

tcmplation of nature, to attain to the mysteries of God.
As to the first, Solomon excellently says, " I saw that
wisdom excelleth folly as far as light excelleth darkness.
The wise man's eyes are in his head, but the fool vvalketh in
darkness ; and I myself perceived also that one event hap-
peneth to them all."1 And for the second, it is certain that
no vexation or anxiety of mind results from knowledge, but
merely by accident; all knowledge, and admiration, which is
the seed of knowledge, being pleasant in itself; but when we
frame conclusions from our knowledge, apply them to our
own particular, and thence minister to ourselves weak fears
or vast desires; then comes on that anxiety and trouble of
mind which is here meant — when knowledge is no longer
the dry light of Heraclitus, but the drenched one, steeped in
the humours of the affections."1 4. The third point deserves
to be more dwelt upon; for if any man shall think, by his
inquiries after material things, to discover the nature or will
of God, he is indeed spoiled by vain philosophy; for the
contemplation of God's works produces knowledge, though,
with regard to him, not perfect knowledge, but wonder,
which is broken knowledge. It may, therefore, be property
said, " That the sense resembles the sun, which shows the
terrestrial globe, but conceals the celestial;"11 for thus the
sense discovers natural things, whilst it shuts up divine.
And hence some learned men have, indeed, been heretical,
whilst they sought to seize the secrets of the Deity borne
on the waxen wings of the senses. 5. As to the point that
too much knowledge should incline to atheism, and the
ignorance of second causes make us more dependent upon
God, we ask Job's question, "Will ye lie for God, as one man
will do for another, to gratify him?"0 For certainly God
works nothing in nature but by second causes;? and to assert
the contrary is mere imposture, as it were, in favour of God,
and offering up to the author of truth the unclean sacrifice
of a lie. Undoubtedly a superficial tincture of philosophy may
incline the mind to atheism, yet a farther knowledge brings

1 Eccles. ii. 13, 14.

m Ap. Stob. Serm. v. 120, in Hitter's Hist. Phil. § 47.

n Phil. Jud. de Somirs, p. 41.

* Job xiii. 7-

0 Hooker, Eccl. Pol. i. 2 j Butler, Anal, part i c. 2.

32 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [flOOKl

it back to religion; <* For on the threshold of philosophy,
where second causes appear to absorb the attention, some
oblivion of the highest cause may ensue; but when the mind
goes deeper, and sees the dependence of causes and the works
of Providence, it will easily perceive, according to the mytho
logy of the poets, that the upper link of ^Nature's chain is
fastened to Jupiter's throne.1 To conclude, let no one weakly
imagine that man can search too far, or be too well studied
in the book of God's word, and works, divinity, and philo
sophy ; but rather let them endeavour an endless progression
in both, only applying all to charity, and not to pride — to
use, not ostentation, without confounding the two different
streams of philosophy and revelation together.8

The reflections cast upon learning by politicians, are these.
1. " That it enervates men's minds, and unfits them for
arms ; 2. That it perverts their dispositions for government
and politics ; 3. That it makes them too curious and irre
solute, by variety of reading ; too peremptory or positive by
strictness of rules; too immoderate and conceited by the great
ness of instances ; too unsociable and incapacitated for the
times, by the dissimilitude of examples ; or at least, 4. That
it diverts from action and business, and leads to a love of re
tirement ; 5. That it introduces a relaxation in government,
as every man is more ready to argue than obey ; whence
Cato the censor — when Carneades came ambassador to Rome,
and the young Romans, allured with his eloquence, nocked
about him, — gave counsel in open senate, to grant him his
despatch immediately, lest he should infect the minds of the
youth, and insensibly occasion an alteration in the state."1

The same conceit is manifest in Virgil, who, preferring the
honour of his country to that of his profession, challenged
the arts of policy in the Romans, as something superior to

*• See the author's essay on Atheism, and Mr. Boyle's essays upon
the Usefulness of Philosophy.

r Iliad, viii. 19; and conf. Plato, Theoet. i. 153.

• The dispute betwixt the rational and scriptural divines is still on
foot : the former are for reconciling reason and philosophy with faith
and religion ; and the latter for keeping them distinct, as things incom
patible, or making reason and knowledge subject to faith and religion.
The author is clear, that they should be kept separate, as will mor«
fully appear hereafter, when he cornea to trrflt of theology.

« Pluurch in M. Cato.

tiook 1.1 Afcws AND LEARNING Fi.ouRisrt TOGETHER. o3

letters, the pre-eminence in which, he freely assigns to the
Grecians.

" Tu regere imperio populos, Romane memento :
Hae tibi erunt artes. — J£n. vi. 851.

And \ve also observe that Anytus, the accuser of Socrates,
charged him in his impeachment with destroying, in the
minds of young men, by his rhetorical arts, all authority and
reverence for the laws of the country.11

1. But these and the like imputations have rather a show
of gravity, than any just ground ; for experience shows that
learning and arms have flourished in the same persons and
ages. As to persons, there are no better instances than
Alexander and Caesar, the one Aristotle's scholar in philo
sophy, and the other Cicero's rival in eloquence ; and again,
Epaminondas and Xenophon, the one whereof first abated
the power of Sparta, and the other first paved the way
for subverting the Persian monarchy. This concurrence
of learning and arms, is yet more visible in times than
in persons, as an age exceeds a mar*. For in Egypt,
Assyria, Persia, Greece, and Home, the times most famous
for arms are likewise most admired for learning ; so
that the greatest authors and philosophers, the greatest
leaders and governors, have lived in the same ages. Nor
can it well be otherwise ; for as the fulness of human
strength, both in body and mind, comes nearly at an age ;
so arms and learning, one whereof corresponds to the body,
the other to the soul, have a near concurrence in point of
time.

2. And that learning should rather prove detrimental
than serviceable in the art of government, seems very
improbable. It is wrong to trust the natural body to
empirics, who commonly have a few receipts whereon they
rely, but who know neither the causes of diseases, nor the
constitutions of patients, nor the danger of accidents, nor the
true methods of cure. And so it must needs be dangerous
to have the civil body of states managed by empirical states
men, unless well mixed with others who are grounded in learn
ing. On the contrary, it is almost without instance, that
any government was unprosperous under learned governors

• Plato, Apol. Soa
2 L,

34 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK I.

For nowever common it has been with politicians to dis
credit learned men, by the name of pedants, yet it appears
from history, that the governments of princes in minority
have excelled the governments of princes in maturity, merely
because the management was in learned hands. The state
of Rome for the first five years, so much magnified, during
the minority of Nero, was in the hands of Seneca, a pedant :
so it was for ten years, during the minority of Gordianus the
younger, with great applause in the hands of Misitheus, a
pedant ; and it was as happy before that, in the minority of
Alexander Scverus, under the rule of women, assisted by
preceptors. And to look into the government of the bishops
of Rome, particularly that of Pius and Sextus Quintus, who
were both at their entrance esteemed but pedantical friars,
we shall find that such popes did greater things, and pro
ceeded upon truer principles of state, than those who rose to
the papacy from an education in civil affairs, and the courts
of princes. For though men bred to learning are perhaps at
a loss in points of convenience, and present accommodations,
called x reasons of state, yet they are perfect in the plain
grounds of religion, justice, honour, and moral virtue, which,
if well pursued, there will be as little use of reasons of state,
as of physic in a healthy constitution. Nor can the ex
perience of one man's life furnish examples and precedents
for another's : present occurrences frequently correspond to
ancient examples, better than to later. And lastly, the
genius of any single man can no more equal learning, than a
private purse hold way with the exchequer.

3. As to the particular indispositions of the mind for
politics and government, laid to the charge of learning, if
they are allowed of any force, it must be remembered, that
learning affords more remedies than it breeds diseases ; for
if, by a secret operation, it renders men perplexed and
irresolute, on the other hand, by plain precept, it teaches
when, and upon what grounds, to resolve, and how to carry
things in suspense, without prejudice : if it makes men
positive and stiff, it shows what things are in their nature
demonstrative, what conjectural ; and teaches the use ot
distinctions and exceptions, as well as the rigidness of prin-

1 Dy the Italians " Ragioni di stato."

BOOK I.] THE BENEFIT OF READING. 35

ciples and rules. If it misleads, by the unsuitableness of
examples, it shows the force of circumstances, the errors of
comparisons, and the cautions of application ; so that in all
cases, it rectifies more effectually than it perverts : and these
remedies it conveys into the mind much more effectually by
the force and variety of examples. Let a man look into the
errors of Clement the Seventh, so livelily described liy
Guicciardini ; or into those of Cicero, described by himself
in his epistles to Atticus, and he will fly from being irre
solute : let him look into the errors of Phocion, and he will
beware of obstinacy or inflexibility : let him read the fable
of Ixion/ and it will keep him from conceitedness : let him
look into the errors of the second Cato, and he will never
tread opposite to the world.2

4. For the pretence that learning disposes to retirement,
privacy, and sloth ; it were strange if what accustoms the
mind to perpetual motion and agitation should induce in
dolence ; whereas no kind of men love business, for its own
sake, but the learned ; whilst others love it for profit, as
hirelings for the wages ; others for honour ; others because
it bears them up in the eyes of men, and refreshes their
reputations, which would otherwise fade ; or because it re
minds them of their fortune, and gives them opportunities of
revenging and obliging ; or because it exercises some faculty,
wherein they delight, and so keeps them in good humour
with themselves. Whence, as false valour lies in the eyes
of the beholders, such men's industry lies in the eyes of
others, or is exercised with a view to their own designs ;
whilst the learned love business, as an action according to
nature, and agreeable to the health of the mind, as exercise
is to that of the body : so that, of all men, they are the
most indefatigable in such business as may deservedly fill and
employ the mind. And if there are any laborious in study,
yet idle in business, this proceeds either from a weakness of
body, or a softness of disposition, and not from learning itself,
as Seneca remarks, " Quidam tarn sunt umbratiles ut putent
in turbido esse, quicquid in luce est."a The consciousness ol
Biich a disposition may indeed incline a man to learning, but
learning does not breed any such temper in him.

r Find. Pyth. ii. 21. » Cic. ad Ait _. 1.

• Seneca's Epistles, iii. near the end.
D2

3o ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [bOOK 1.

If it be objected, that learning takes up much time, which
might be better employed, I answer that the most active or
busy men have many vacant hours, while they expect the
tides and returns of business; and then the question is, how
those spaces of leisure shall be filled up, whether with plea
sure or study1? Demosthenes being taunted by ^Eschines, a
man of pleasure, that his speeches smelt of the lamp, very
pertly retorted, " There is great difference between the objects
which you and I pursue by lamp-light." b No fear, therefore,
that learning should displace business, for it rather keeps
and defends the mind against idleness and pleasure, which
might otherwise enter to the prejudice both of business and
learning. 5. For the allegation that learning should under
mine the reverence due to laws and government, it i« a mere
calumny, without shadow of truth; for to say that blind
custom of obedience should be a safer obligation than duty,
taught and understood, is to say that a blind man may tread
surer by a guide than a man with his eyes open can by a
light. And, doubtless, learning makes the mind gentle and
pliable to government, whereas ignorance renders it churlish
and mutinous; and it is always found that the most bar
barous, rude, and ignorant times have been most tumultuous,
changeable, and seditious.

G. As to the judgment of Cato the Censor, he was punished
for his contempt of learning, in the kind wherein he of
fended, for when past threescore the humour took him to
learn Greek, which shows that his former censure of the
Grecian learning was rather an affected gravity than his
inward sense.0 And, indeed, the Romans never arrived at
their height of empire till they had arrived at their height
of arts; for in the time of the two first Ccesars, when their
government was in its greatest perfection, there lived the
best poet, Virgil; the best historiographer, Livy; the best
antiquary, Varro ; and the best, or second best orator, Cicero,
that the world has known. And as to the persecution of
Socrates, the time must be remembered in which it occurred,
viz., under the reign of the Thirty Tyrants, of all mortals the
bloodiest and basest that ever reigned, since the government

Plutarch's Life of Demosthenes, not said of JEscmnes, bat
Pytheas.
*c Plutarch's M. Cato.

BOOK I.] OBJECTIONS TO LEARNED MEN REFUTED. 37

had no sooner returned to its senses than that judgment was
reversed. Socrates, from being a criminal, started at once
into a hero, his memory loaded with honours human and
divine, and his discourses, which h?.d been previously stigma
tized as immoral and profane, were considered as the re
formers of thought and manners. d And let this suffice as an
answer to those politicians who have presumed, whether
sportively or in earnest, to disparage learning.

We come now to that sort of discredit which is brought
upon learning by learned men themselves; and this proceeds
either (1) from their fortune, (2) their manners, or (3) the
nature of their studies.

1. The disrepute of learning from the fortune or condition
of the learned, regards either their indigence, retirement, or
meanness of employ. As to the point, that learned men grow
not so soon rich as others, because they convert not their
labours to profit, we might turn it over to the friars, of whom
Machiavel said, "That the kingdom of the clergy had been long
since at an end, if the reputation and reverence towards the
poverty of the monks and mendicants had not borne out the
excesses of bishops and prelates."6 For so the splendour and
magnificence of the great had long since sunk into rudeness
and barbarism, if the poverty of learned men had not kept up
civility and reputation. But to drop such advantages, it is
worth observing how reverend and sacred poverty was
esteemed for some ages in the Roman state, since, as Livy
says, " There never was a republic greater, more venerable,
and more abounding in good examples than the Roman, nor
one that so long withstood avarice and luxury, or so much
honoured poverty and parsimony." f And we see, when
Rome degenerated, how Julius Caesar after his victory was
counselled to begin the restoration of the state, by abolishing
the reputation of wealth. And, indeed, as we truly say that
blushing is the livery of virtue, though it may sometimes
proceed from guilty so it holds true of poverty that it is the
attendant of virtue, though sometimes it may proceed from
mismanagement and accident.

d Plato, Apol. Socr. e Mach. Hist, de Firenza, b. 10.

f Livy's preface, towards the end.

Diog. Cyn. ap. Laert. vi. 54 ; compare Tacitus, Agric. 45, of
" Ssevus vultus et rubor, a quo se contra pudorem munielMt.*

38 APYANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOi L

As for retirement, it is a theme so common to extol ,1
private life, not taxed with sensuality and sloth, for the
liberty, the pleasure, and the freedom from indignity it
affords, that every one praises it well, such an agreement
it has to the nature and apprehensions of mankind. This
may be added, that learned men, forgotten in states and not
living in the eyes of the world, are like the images of Cassius
and Brutus at the funeral of Junia, which not being repre
sented as many others were, Tacitus said of them that " they
outshone the rest, because not seen."11

As for their meanness of employ, that most exposed to
contempt is the education of youth, to which they are com
monly allotted. But how unjust this reflection is to all who
measure things, not by popular opinion, but by reason, will
appear in the fact that men are more careful what they put
into new vessels than into those already seasoned. It is
manifest that things in their weakest state usually demand
our best attention and assistance. Hearken to the Hebrew
rabbins : " Your young men shall see visions, your old men
shall dream dreams;"1 upon which the commentators observe,
that youth is the worthier age, inasmuch as revelation by
vision is clearer than by dreams. And to say the truth, how
much soever the lives of pedants have been ridiculed upon
the stage, as the emblem of tyranny, because the modern
looseness or negligence has not duly regarded the choice of
proper schoolmasters and tutors ; yet the wisdom of the
ancientest and best times always complained that states were
too busy with laws and too remiss in point of education.
This excellent part of ancient discipline has in some measure
been revived of late by the colleges of Jesuits abroad ; in
regard of whose diligence in fashioning the morals and culti
vating the minds of youth, I may say, as Agesilaus said to
his enemy Pharnabasus, " Tails quum sis, utinam noster
esses." k

2. The manners of learned men belong rather to their
individual persons than to their studies or pursuits. No
doubt, as in all other professions and conditions of life, bad
and good are to be found among them ; yet it must be ad
mitted that learning and studies, unless they fall in with

fc Arnsils, iii, 76. ' Joel ii. 28. k Plut. Life of AgeaiL

BOOK I.] OBJECTIONS TO LEARNED MEN REFUTED. 39

very depraved dispositions, have, in conformity with the
adage, " Abire studia in mores," a moral influence upon men's
lives. For my part I cannot find that any disgrace to learn
ing can proceed from the habits of learned men, inherent in
them as learned, unless peradventure that may be a fault
which was attributed to Demosthenes, Cicero, the second Cato,
and many others, that seeing the times they read of more
pure than their own, pushed their servility too far in the
reformation of manners, and to seek to impose, by austere
precepts, the laws of ancient asceticism upon dissolute times.
Yet even antiquity should have forewarned them of this
excess; for Solon, upon being asked if he had given his citi
zens the best laws, replied, " The best they were capable of
receiving."1 And Plato, finding that he had fallen upon
corrupt times, refused to take part in the administration ot
ihe commonwealth, saying that a man should treat his coun
try with the same forbearance as his parents, and recall her
from a wrong course, net by violence or contest, but by
entreaty and persuasion.01 Caesar's counsellor administers the
same caveat in the words, "Non ad vetera instituta revocamu?
quse jampridem corruptis moribus ludibrio sunt."n Cicero
points out the same error in the second Cato, when writing
to his friend Atticus : — " Cato optime sentit sed nocet
interdum Reipublicce ; loquitur enim tanquam in Republics
Platonis, non tanquam in fasce Rornuli."0 The same orator
likewise excuses and blames the philosophers for being too
exact in their precepts. These preceptors, said he, have
stretched the lines and limits of duties beyond their natural
boundaries, thinking that we might safely reform when we
had reached the highest point of perfection.? And yet him
self stumbled over the same stone, so that he might have
said, " Monitis sum minor ipse meis." 1

3. Another fault laid to the charge of learned men, and
arising from the nature of their studies, is, " That they
esteem the preservation, good, and honour of their country
before their own fortunes or safeties." Demosthenes said

well to the Athenians, " My counsels are not such a« tend to

»

I Plutarch, Solon. m Epist. Z. iii. 331 ; and cf. Ep. T. iii. 316.

II Sallust, Cat. Conspiracy. ° Cicero to Atticus, epis. ii. 1.
P Oratio pro L. Muraena, xxxi. 65.

* " I am unequal to my teaching." — Ovid, Ars Araandi, ii. 648.

40 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [r,00!< 1 4

aggrandize myself and diminish you, but sometimes not ex
pedient for me to give, though always expedient for you to
follow." r So Seneca, after consecrating the five years o.
Nero's minority to the immortal glory of learned governors,
held on his honest course of good counsel after his master
grew extremely corrupt. Nor can this be otherwise; for
learning gives men a time sense of their frailty, the casualty
of fortune, and the dignity of the soul and its office ; whence
they cannot think any greatness of fortune a worthy end ot
their living, and therefore live so as to give a clear and
acceptable account to God and their superiors; whilst the
corrupter sort of politicians, who are not by learning esta
blished in a love of duty, nor ever look abroad into univer
sality, refer all things to themselves, and thrust their persons
into the centre of the world, as if all lines should meet in
them and their fortunes, without regarding in storms what
becomes of the ship of the state, if they can save themselves
in the cock-boat of their own fortune.

Another charge brought against learned men, which may
rather be defended than denied, is, " That they sometimes
fail in making court to particular persons." This want of
application arises from two causes — the one the largeness of
their mind, which can hardly submit to dwell in the exami
nation and observance of any one person. It is the speech
of a lover rather than of a wise man, " Satis magnum alter
alteri theatrum sumus."8 Nevertheless he who cannot con
tract the sight of his mind, as well as dilate it, wants a great
talent in life. The second cause is, no inability, but a rejec
tion upon choice and judgment; for the honest and just
limits of observation in one person upon another extend no
farther than to understand him sufficiently, so as to give
him no offence, or be able to counsel him, or to stand upon
reasonable guard and caution with respect to one's self; but
to pry deep into another man, to learn to work, wind, or
govern him, proceeds from, a double heart, which in friend
ship is want of integrity, and towards princes or superiors
want of duty. The eastern custom which forbids subjects
to gaze upon princes, though in the outward ceremony bar-

* Orotioq on the Crown, • Seneca, Ep. Mor. i. f,

BOOK I.] AMIABLE INGENUOUSNESS OF LEARNED MEN. 41

barous, has a good moral ; for men ought not, by cunning
and studied observations, to penetrate and search into the
hearts of kings, which the Scripture declares inscrutable.*

Another fault noted in learned men is, " That they often
fail in point of discretion and decency of behaviour, and
commit errors in ordinary actions, whence vulgar capacities
judge of them in greater matters by what they find them in
small." But this consequence often deceives; for we may
here justly apply the saying of Themistocles, who being
asked to touch a lute, replied, "He could not fiddle, but he
could make a little village a great city."u Accordingly many
may be well skilled in government and policy, who are
defective in little punctilios. So Plato compared his master 7
Socrates to the shop-pots of apothecaries painted on the out
side with apes and owls and antiques, bub contained within
sovereign and precious rcmedies.x

But we have nothing to offer in excuse of those unworthy
practices, whereby some professors have debased both them
selves and learning, as the trencher philosophers, who, in the
decline of the Roman state, were but a kind of solemn para
sites. Lucian makes merry with this kind of gentry, in the
person of a philosopher riding in a coach with a great lady,
who would needs have him carry her lapdog, which he doing
with an awkward officiousness, the page said, " He feared
the Stoic would turn Cynic." y But above all, the gross flat
tery wherein many abuse their wit, by turning Hecuba into
Hellena, and Faustina into Lucretia, has most diminished
the value and esteem of learning.2 Neither is the modern
practice of dedications commendable ; for books should have
nojoatrons but truth and reason. And the ancient custom
was, toTledicate them only to private and equal friends, or
if to kings and great persons, it was to such as the subject
suited. These and the like measures, therefore, deserve

* Prov. xxv. u Cicero, Tuscul. Qucsst. i. 2 ; Plutarch, Themistocles.

z Conv. iii. 215; and cf. Xen. Symp. v. 7.

7 Lucian de Merc. Cond. 33, 34. The raillery couched under the
word cynic will become more evident if the reader will recollect the
word is derived from KVVOQ, the Greek name for dog. These philoso
phers were called Cynics who, like Diogenes, rather barked than
declaimed against the vices and the manners of their age. Ed.

1 Pu BarUw. Bethulian's Rescue, b. v. translated by Syhsster,

42 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK 1

rather to be censured than defended. Yet the submission
of learned men to those in power cannot be condemned.
Diogenes, to one who asked him " How it happened that
philosophers followed the rich, and not the rich the philoso
phers?" answered, "Because the philosophers know what
they want, but the rich do not."a And of the like nature
was the answer of Aristippus, who having a petition to Dio-
nysius, and no ear being given him, fell down at his feet,
whereupon Dionysius gave him the hearing, and granted the
suit ; but when afterwards Aristippus was reproved for offer
ing such an indignity to philosophy as to fall at a tyrant's
feet, he replied, " It was not his fault if Dionysius's ears were
in his feet/'b Nor was it accounted weakness, but discretion,
in himc that would not dispute his best with the Emperor
Adrian, excusing himself, " That it was reasonable to yield
to one that commanded thirty legions." d These and the like
condescensions to points of necessity and convenience, can
not be disallowed ; for though they may have some show of
external meanness, yet in a judgment truly made, they are
submissions to the occasion, and not to the person.

We proceed to the errors and vanities intermixed with
the studies of learned men, wherein the design is not to
countenance such errors, but, by a censure and separation
thereof to justify what is sound and good; for it is the man
ner of men, especially the evil-minded, to depreciate what is
excellent and virtuous, by taking advantage over what is
corrupt and degenerate. We reckon three principal vanities
for which learning has been traduced. Those things are
vain which are either false or frivolous, or deficient in truth
or use ; and those persons are vain who are either credulous
of falsities or curious in things of little use. But curiosity
consists either in matter or words, that is, either in taking
pains about vain things, or too much labour about the deli
cacy of language. There are, therefore, in reason as well as
experience, three distempers of learning; viz., vain affecta
tions, vain disputes, and vain imaginations, or effeminate
learning, contentious learning, and fantastical learning.

The first disease, which consists in a luxuriancy of style,
has been anciently esteemed at different times, but strangely

• Laert. Life Biog. b Laert. Life Arist.

c Deruouax. d Spartianus, Vit. Adriani, § 15.

BOOK I.] STYLE CONSIDERED MORE THAN MATTER. 43

prevailed about the time of Luther, who, finding how gre.lt
a task he had undertaken against the degenerate traditions
of the Church, and being unassisted by the opinions of his
own age, was forced to awake antiquity to make a party for
him; whence the ancient authors both in divinity and the
humanities, that had long slept in libraries, began to be
generally read. This brought on a necessity of greater ap
plication to the original languages wherein those authors
wrote, for the better understanding and application of their
works. Hence also proceeded a delight in their manner of
style and phrase, and an admiration of this kind of writing,
which was much increased by the enmity now grown uj:
against the schoolmen, who were generally of the contrary
party, and whose writings were in a very different style and
form, as taking the liberty to coin new and strange words,
to avoid circumlocution and express their sentiments acutely,
without regard to purity of diction and justness of phrase.
And again, because the great labour then was to win and
persuade the people, eloquence and variety of discourse grew
into request as most suitable for the pulpit, and best adapted
to the capacity of the vulgar; so that these four causes con
curring, viz., 1. admiration of the ancients; 2. enmity to the
schoolmen; 3. an exact study of languages; and, 4. a desire
of powerful preaching, — introduced an affected study of
eloquence and copiousness of speech, which then began to
nourish. This soon grew to excess, insomuch that men
studied more after words than matter, more after the choice-
ness of phrase, and the round and neat composition, sweet
cadence of periods, the use of tropes and figures, than after
weight of matter, dignity of subject, soundness of argument,
life of invention, or depth of judgment. Then grew into
esteem the flowing and watery vein of Orosius,c the Portugal
bishop; then did Sturmius bestow such infinite pains upon
Cicero and Hermogenes; then did Car and Ascham, in their
lectures and writings, almost deify Cicero and Demosthenes ;
then grew the learning of the schoolmen to be utterly de
spised as barbarous; and the whole bent of those times was
rather upon fulness than weight.

c Neither a Portuguese or a bishop, but a Spanish monk oorn at
Tarragona, and sent by St. Augustine on a mission to Jerusalem in tb«
«omraencement of the fifth century.

44 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK L

Here, therefore, is the first distemper of learning, when
men study words and not matter; and though we have given
an example of it from later times, yet such levities have and
will be found more or less in all ages. And this must needs
discredit learning, even with vulgar capacities, when they
see learned men's works appear like the first letter of a
patent, which, though finely flourished, is still but a letter.
Pygmalion's frenzy seems a good emblem of this vanity ;f for
vrords are but the images of matter, and unless they have
life of reason and invention, to fall in love with them is to
fall in love with a picture.

Yet the illustrating the obscurities of philosophy with
sensible and plausible elocution is not hastily to be con
demned; for hereof we have eminent examples in Xeno-
phon, Cicero, Seneca, Plutarch, and Plato ;S and the thing
itself is of great use ; for although it be some hinderance to
the severe inquiry after truth, and the farther progress in
philosophy, that it should too early prove satisfactory to the
mind, and quench the desire of farther search, before a just
period is made ; yet when we have occasion for learning and
knowledge in civil life, as for conference, counsel, persuasion,
discourse, or the like, we find it ready prepared to our hands
in the authors who have wrote in this way. But the excess
herein is so justly contemptible, that as Hercules, when he
saw the statue of Adonis, who was the delight of Venus, in
the temple, said with indignation, " There is no divinity in
thee;" so all the followers of Hercules in learning, that is,
the more severe and laborious inquirers after truth, will
despise these delicacies and affectations as trivial and effe
minate.

The luxuriant style was succeeded by another, which,
though more chaste, has still its vanity, as turning wholly
upon pointed expressions and short periods, so as to appear
concise and round rather than diffasive ; by which contri
vance the whole looks more ingenious than it is. Seneca

f Ovid, Metam. x. 243.

9 M. Fontenelle is an eminent modern instance in the same way
who, particularly in his " Plurality of Worlds," renders the present
system of astronomy agreeably familiar, as his "History of the Roya.
Academy" embellishes and explains tJ)e abstruse part* /?£
»ud natural philosophy.

BOOK l] PURSUIT OP FANCIFUL SPECULATIONS. 45

used this kind of style profusely, but Tacitus and Plmy
greater moderation. It has also begun to render itself
acceptable in our time. But to say the truth, its admirers
are only the men of a middle genius, who think it adds a
dignity to learning; whilst those of solid judgment justly
reject it as a certain disease of learning, since it is no more
than a jingle, or peculiar quaint affectation of words.1' And
so much for the first disease of learning.

The second disease is worse in its nature than the former ;
for as the dignity of matter exceeds the beauty of words, so
vanity in matter is worse than vanity in words ; whence the
precept of St. Paul is at all times seasonable : " Avoid
profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science falsely
so called."1 He assigns two marks of suspected and falsified
science : the one, novelty and strangeness of terms ; the
other, strictness of positions ; which necessarily induces
oppositions, and thence questions and altercations. And
indeed, as many solid substances putrefy, and turn into
worms, so does sound knowledge often putrefy into a number
of subtle, idle, and vermicular questions, that have a certain
quickness of life, and spirit, but no strength of matter, or
excellence of quality. This kind of degenerate learning
chiefly reigned among the schoolmen ; who, having subtle;
and strong capacities, abundance of leisure, and but small
variety of reading, their minds being shut up in a few
authors, as their bodies were in the cells of their monasteries,
and thus kept ignorant both of the history of nature and
times ; they, with infinite agitation of wit, spun out of a
small quantity of matter, those laborious webs of learning
which are extant in their books. For the human mind, if it
acts upon matter, and contemplates the nature of things, and
the works of God, operates according to the stuff, and is
limited thereby ; but if it works upon itself, as the spider
does, then it has no end ; but produces cobwebs of learning,
admirable indeed for the fineness of the thread, but of no
substance or profit. k

h Since the establishment of the French Academy, a studied plainness
ftnd simplicity of style begins to prevail in that nation.

» 1 Tim. vi. 20.

k For the literary history of the schoolmen, see Morhof's "Poly-hlsi."'
torn. ii. lib. i. cap. 14 ; and Camden'a " Remains."

46 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. (fiOOK I,

Tliis unprofitable subtilty is of two kinds, and appears
either in the subject, when that is fruitless speculation or
controversy, or in the manner of treating it, which amongst
them was this : Upon every particular position they framed
objections, and to those objections solutions; which solutions
were generally not confutations, but distinctions ; whereas
tihe strength of all sciences is like the strength of a iagot
bound. For the harmony of science, when each part
supports the other, is the true and short confutation of all
the smaller objections ; on the contrary, to take out every
axiom, as the sticks of the fagot, one by one, you may
quarrel with them, and bend them, and break them at
pleasure : whence, as it was said of Seneca, that he
"weakened the weight of things by trivial expression,"1
we may truly say of the schoolmen, " That they broke the
solidity of the sciences by the minuteness of their questions."
For, were it not better to set up one large light in a noble
room, that to go about with a small one, to illuminate every
comer thereof 1 Yet such is the method of schoolmen, that
rests not so much upon the evidence of truth from arguments,
authorities, and examples, as upon particular confutations
and solutions of every scruple and objection ; which breeds
one question, as fast as it solves another ; just as in the above
example, when the light is carried into one corner, it darkens
the rest. Whence the fable of Scylla seems a lively image
of this kind of philosophy, who was transformed into a
beautiful virgin upwards, whilst barking monsters surrounded
her below, —

" Candida succinctani latrantibus inguina monstris."

Virg. Eel. vi. 75.

So the generalities of the schoolmen are for a while fair and
proportionable ; but to descend into their distinctions and
decisions, they end in monstrous altercations and barking
questions. Whence this kind of knowledge must necessarily
fall under popular contempt ; for the people are ever apt to
contemn truth, upon account of the controversies raised
about it ; and so think those all in the wrong way, who
never meet. And when they see such quarrels about sub-
tilties and matters of no use, they usually give into the

1 Quinctilian, lib x. cap. 1, § 130.

BOOK J.] DISREGARD TO TRUTH, AND CREDULITY. 47

judgment of Diony.iius, " That it is old men's idle talk."30
But if those schoolmen, to their great thirst of truth, and
unwearied exercise of wit, had joined variety of reading and
contemplation, they would have proved excellent lights to
the great advancement of all kinds of arts and sciences.
And thus much for the second disease of learning.

The third disease, which regards deceit or falsehood, is the
foulest ; as destroying the essential form of knowledge,
which is nothing but a representation of truth ; for the
truth of existence and the truth of knowledge are the same
tiling, or differ no more than the direct and reflected ray.
This vice, therefore, branches into two ; viz., delight in
deceiving and aptness to be deceived ; imposture and credu
lity, which, though apparently different, the one seeming to
proceed from cunning, and the other from simplicity, yet
they generally concur. For, as in the verse,

" Percontatorem fugito; nam garrulus Idem est,"

Hor. lib. i. epis. xviii. v. 69.

an inquisitive man is a prattler ; so a credulous man is a
deceiver ; for he who so easily believes rumours, will as
easily increase them. Tacitus has wiselv expressed this law
of our nature in these words, " Fingunt simul creduntque.""
This easiness of belief, and admitting things upon weak
authority, is of two kinds, according to the subject ; being
either a belief of history and matter of fact, or else matter
of art and opinion. "We see the inconvenience of the formei
in ecclesiastical history, which has too easily received and
registered relations of miracles wrought by martyrs, hermits,
monks, and their relics, shrines, chapels, and images. So
in natural history, there has not been much judgment
employed, as appears from the writings of Pliny, Carban,
Albertus, and many of the Arabians; which are full of
fabulous matters : many of them not only untried, but
notoriously false, to the great discredit of natural philosophy
with grave and sober minds. But the produce and integrity
of Aristotle is here worthy our observation, who, having
compiled an exact history of animals, dashed it very sparingly
with fable or fiction, throwing all strange reports which he

• I>:og. Laort. iii. 18, L:fe of Plato. • Tacit. Hist. b. i. 51

43 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [fcOOtf I.

thought worth recording in a book by themselves,0 thus
wisely intimating, that matter of truth which is the basis of
solid experience, philosophy, and the sciences, should not
be mixed with matter of doubtful credit ; and yet that
curiosities or prodigies, though seemingly incredible, are not
to be suppressed or denied the registering.

Credulity in arts and opinions, is likewise of two kinds ;
viz., when men give too much belief to arts themselves, or
to certain authors in any art. The sciences that sway the
imagination more than the reason, are principally three ; viz.,
astrology, natural magic, and alchemy ; the ends or preten
sions whereof are however noble. For astrology pretends
to discover the influence of the superior upon the inferior
bodies ; natural magic pretends to reduce natural philosophy
from speculation to works ; and chemistry pretends to
separate the dissimilar parts, incorporated in natural mix
tures, and to cleanse such bodies as are impure, throw out
the heterogeneous parts, and perfect such as are immature.
But the means supposed to produce these effects are, both in
theory and practice, full of error and vanity, and besides, are
seldom delivered with candour, but generally concealed by
artifice and enigmatical expressions, referring to tradition,
and using other devices to cloak imposture. Yet alchemy
may be compared to the man who told his sons, he had left
them gold buried somewhere in his vineyard ; where they,
by digging, found no gold, but by turning up the mould about
the roots of the vines, procured a plentiful vintage. So the
search and endeavours to make gold have brought many
useful inventions and instructive experiments to light.l*

Credulity in respect of certain authors, and making them

'AKoi>rrf.iara.

As among the Egyptians, the Chinese, and the Arabians, if their
histories are to be credited. In later times, they make copper
out of iron, at Nevvsohl, in Germany. See Agricola " De lie Metal-
lira," Morhof, Fr. Hoffman, &c. Whilst Brand of Hamburgh \\*a
working upon urine, in order to find the philosopher's stone, ho
stumbled upon that called Kunckel's burning phosphorus, in the year
1669. See Mem. de 1'Acad. Royal, des Sciences, an 1692. And M.
Homberg operating upon human excrement, for an oil to convert quick
silver into silver, accidentally produced what we now call the black
phosphorus, a powder which readily takes fire and burns like a coal in
the open air. See Me"m. de 1'Acad. an 1711. T; give all the instcnco*
tf tb is kind were almost endless. Ed.

UOOK I.] UNREASONABLE DEFERENCE TO GREAT NAMES. 49

dictators instead of consuls, is a principal cause that the
sciences are no farther advanced. For hence, though in
mechanical arts, the first inventor falls short, time adds per
fection ; whilst in the sciences, the first author goes farthest,
and time only abates or corrupts. Thus artillery, sailing,
and printing, were grossly managed at the first, but received
improvement by time; whilst the philosophy and the sciences
of Aristotle, Plato, Democritus, Hippocrates, Euclid, and
Archimedes, flourished most in the original authors, and
degenerated with time. The reason is, that in the mechanic
arts, the capacities and industry of many are collected
together ; whereas in sciences, the capacities and industry
of many have been spent upon the invention of some
one man, who has commonly been thereby rather obscured
than illustrated. For as water ascends no higher than the
level of the first spring, so knowledge derived from Aristotle
will at most rise no higher again than the knowledge of
Arislotle. And therefore, though a scholar must have faith
in his master, yet a man well instructed must judge for him
self ; for learners owe to their masters only a temporary
belief, and a suspension of their own judgment till they are
fully instructed, and not an absolute resignation or perpetual
captivity. Let great authors, therefore, have their due, but
so as not to defraud time, which is the author of authors, and
the parent of truth.

Besides the three diseases of learning above treated, there
arc some other peccant humours, which, falling under popular
observation and reprehension, require to be particularly
mentioned. The fii^t is the affecting of two extremes ;
antiquity and novelty : wherein the children of time seem
to imitate their father ; for as he devours his children, so
they endeavour to devour each other ; whilst antiquity envies
new improvements, and novelty is not content to add with
out defacing. The advice of the prophet is just in this case ;
" Stand upon the old ways, and see which is the good way,
and walk therein." 1 For antiquity deserves that men should
stand awhile upon it, to view around which is the best way;
but when the discovery is well made, they should stand no
longer, but proceed with cheerfulness. And to ep<?ak tho

* Jeremiah vi. 10. '

50 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK 1

truth antiquity, «as we call it, is the yoang state of the
world j for those times are ancient when the world is ancient;
and not those we vulgarly account ancient by computing
backwards : so that the present time is the real antiquity.

Another error, proceeding from the former, is, a distrust
that anything should be discovered in later times that was
not hit upon before ; as if Lucian's objection against the
gods lay also against time. He pleasantly asks why the gods
begot ,so many children in the first ages, but none in his
days ; and whether they were grown too old for generation,
or were restrained by the Pa] nan law, which prohibited old
men from marrying 1T For thus we seem apprehensive that
time is worn out, and become unfit for generation. And
here we have a remarkable instance of the levity and incon
stancy of man's humour ; which, before a thing is effected,
thinks it impossible, and as soon as it is done, wonders it was
not done before. So the expedition of Alexander into Asia
was at first imagined a vast and impracticable enterprise, yet
Livy afterwards makes so light of it as to say, " It was but
bravely venturing to despise vain opinions."8 And the case
was the same in Columbus's discovery of the West Indies.
But this happens much more frequently in intellectual
matters, as we see in most of the propositions of Euclid,
which, till demonstrated, seem strange, but when demon
strated, the mind receives them by a kind of affinity, as if
we had known them before.

Another error of the same nature is an imagination that
of all ancient opinions or sects, the best has ever prevailed,
and suppressed the rest ; so that if a man begins a new
search, he must happen upon somewhat formerly rejected ;
and by rejection, brought into oblivion j as if the multitude,
or the wiser sort to please the multitude, would not often
give way to what is light and popular, rather than maintain
what is substantial and deep.

Another different error is, the over-early and peremptory
reduction of knowledge into arts and methods, from which
time the sciences are seldom improved ; for as young men
rarely grow in stature after their shape and limbs are fully

* Senec. imput. ap. Lact. Instit. i. 2ti, 13.

• "Nihil aliud quam bene ausus est, vana contemnere." — Livy,
b. 10, c. 17.

BOOK I. j HUMAN INTELLECT OVERRATED. M

formed, so knowledge, whilst it lies in aphorisms and obser
vations, remains in a growing state ; but when once fashioned
into methods, though it may be farther polished, illustrated,
and fitted for use, it no longer increases in bulk and
substance.

Another error is, that after the distribution of particular
arts and sciences, men generally abandon the study of nature,
or universal philosophy, which stops all farther progress.
For as no perfect view of a country can be taken upon a
flat, so it is impossible to discover the remote and deep parts
of any science by standing upon the level of the same
science, or without ascending to a higher.

A nother error proceeds from too great a reverence, and a
kind of adoration paid to the human understanding; whence
men have withdrawn themselves from the contemplation of
nature and experience, and sported with their own reason
and the fictions of fancy. These intellectualists, though
commonly taken for the most sublime and divine philosophers,
are censured by Heraclitus, when he says, " Men seek for
truth in their own little worlds, and not in the great world
without them :"fc and as they disdain to spell, they can never
come to read in the volume of God's works ; but on the con
trary, by continual thought and agitation of wit, they compel
their own genius to divine and deliver oracles, whereby they
are deservedly deluded.

Another error is, that men often infect their speculations
and doctrines with some particular opinions they happen to
be fond of, or the particular sciences whereto they have most
applied, and thence give all other things a tincture that is
utterly foreign to them. Thus Plato mixed philosophy with
theology ;u Aristotle with logic ; Proclus with mathematics;

* Text Empir. against St. Math. vii. 133.

u If it is true that God is the great spring of motion in the universe,
n<* the theory of moving forces is a part of mechanics and mechanics a
department of physics, we cannot see how theology can be entirely
divorced from natural philosophy. Physicists are too apt to consider
tha universe as eternally existing, without contemplating it in its finite
aspect as a series of existences to be produced, and controlled by the
force of laws externally impressed upon them. Henoe their theory of
moving forces is incomplete, as they do not take the prime mover into
account, or supply us, in case of denying him, with tho equivalent c.J
his action. Ed.

62 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING, [BOOK L

as these arts were a kind of elder and favourite children with
them. So the alchemists have made a philosophy from a few
experiments of the furnace, and Gilbert another out of the
loadstone : in like manner, Cicero, when reviewing the
opinions on the nature of the soul, coming to that of a
musician, who held the soul was but an harmony, he plea
santly said, "This man has not gone out of his art."x But
of such authors Aristotle says well : " Those who take in but
a few considerations easily decide. "y

Another error is, an impatience of doubting and a blind
hurry of asserting without a mature suspension of judgment.
For the two ways of contemplation are like the two ways of
action so frequently mentioned by the ancients ; the one
plain and easy at first, but in the end impassable ; the other
rough and fatiguing in the entrance, but soon after fair and
even : so in contemplation, if we begin with certainties, we
shall end in doubts ; but if we begin with doubts, and are
patient in them, we shall end in certainties.

Another error lies in the manner of delivering knowledge,
which is generally magisterial and peremptory, not ingenuous
and open, but suited to gain belief without examination.
And in compendious treatises for practice, this form should
not be disallowed ; but in the true delivering of knowledge,
both extremes are to be avoided ; viz., that of Yelleius the
Epicurean, who feared nothing so much as the non-appear
ance of doubting;"2 and that of Socrates and the Academics,
who ironically doubted of all things : but the true way is to
propose things candidly, with more or less asseveration, as
they stand in a man's own judgment.

There are other errors in the scope that men propose to
themselves : for whereas the more diligent professors of any
science ought chiefly to endeavour the making some additions
or improvements therein, they aspire only to certain second
prizes \ as to be a profound commentator, a sharp disputant,
(i methodical compiler, or abridger, whence the returns
or revenues of knowledge are sometimes increased, but not
the inheritance and stock.

^>ut the greatest error of all is, mistaking the ultimate en(J

* "Hie ab arte sua non recessit." — Tuscul Quoeat. L c. 10.
y Arist. De Gener. et Corrup. lib. 1.

* tAcero, De Natura Deorum, i. c. 8,

BOOK I.] THE TRUE END OF LEARNING MISTAKEN. 5S

of knowledge ; for some men covet knowledge out of a
natural curiosity and inquisitive temper; some to entertain
the mind with variety and delight ; some for ornament and
reputation ; some for victory and contention ; many for lucre
and a livelihood ; and hut few for employing the Divine gift
of reason to the use and benefit of mankind. Thus some
appear to seek in knowledge a couch for a searching spirit ;
others, a walk for a wandering mind ; others, a tower of
state ; others, a fort, or commanding ground ; and others, a
shop for profit or sale, instead of a storehouse for the glory
of the Creator and the endowment of human life. But that
which must dignify and exalt knowledge is the more in
timate and strict conjunction of contemplation and action ;
a conjunction like that of Saturn, the planet of rest and
contemplation ; and Jupiter, the planet of civil society and
action. But here, hy use and action, we do not mean the
applying of knowledge to lucre, for that diverts the advance
ment of knowledge, as the golden ball thrown before Atalanta,
which, while she stoops to take up, the race is hindered.

"Declinat cursus, aurumque volubile tollit." — Ovid, Metam. x. 667.

Nor do we mean, as was said of Socrates, to call philosophy
down from heaven to converse upon earth : a that is, to leave
natural philosophy behind, and apply knowledge only to
morality and policy : but as both heaven and earth con
tribute to the use and benefit of man, so the end ought to be,
from both philosophies, to separate and reject vain and empty
speculations, and preserve and increase all that is solid and
fruitful.

We have now laid open by a kind of dissection the chief
of those peccant humours which have not only retarded
the advancement of learning, but tended to its traduce-
ment.b If we have cut too deeply, it must be remen-

• Cicero, Tnscul. Qusest. v. c. 4.

b To this catalogue of errors incident to learned men may be added,
the frauds and impostures of which they are sometimes guilty, to the
scandal of learning. Thus plagiarism, piracy, falsification, interpola
tion, castration, the publishing of spurious books, and the stealing of
manuscripts out of libraries, have been frequent, especially among eccle
siastical writers, and the Fratres Falsarii. For instances of this kind,
Bee Struvius " De Doctis Impostoribus," Morhof in " Polyhist. de
Psendonymis, Anonymis, &c.," Le Clerc's "ArsCritica," Cave's "Hir^

54 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. fBOOK I.

bered, " Fidelia vulnera amantis, dolosa oscula malignantis.0
However, we will gain credit for our commendations, as
we have been severe in our censures. It is, notwithstand
ing, far from our purpose to enter into fulsome laudations of
learning, or to make a hymn to the muses, though we are
of opinion that it is long since their rites were celebrated ;
but our intent is to balance the dignity of knowledge in the
scale with other things, and to estimate their true values
according to universal testimony.

Next, therefore, let us seek the dignity of knowledge in
its original ; that is, in the attributes and acts of God, so far
as they are revealed to man, and may'.be observed with sobriety.
But here we are not to seek it by the name of learning; for
all learning is 'knowledge acquired, but all knowledge in God
is original : we must, therefore, look for it under the name
of wisdom or sapience, as the Scriptures call it.

In the work of creation we see a double emanation of
virtue from God ; the one relating more properly to power,
the other to wisdom ; the one expressed in making the
matter, and the other in disposing the form. This being
supposed, we may observe that, for anything mentioned in
the histoiy of the creation, the confused mass of the heavens
and earth was made in a moment ; whereas the order and
disposition of it was the work of six days : such a mark of
difference seems put betwixt the works of power and the
works of wisdom ; whence, it is not written that God said,
" Let there be heaven and earth," as it is of the subsequent
works; but actually, that "God made heaven and earth;"
the one carrying the style of a manufacture, the other that
of a law, decree, or counsel.

To proceed from God to spirits. We find, as far as credit
may be given to the celestial hierarchy of the supposed
Dionysius the Areopagite, the first place is given to the
angels of love, termed Seraphim ; the second, to the angels
of light, called Cherubim ; and the third and following
places to thrones, principalities, and the rest, which are all
angels of power and ministry ; so that the angels of know-

toria Literaria Srriptorum Ecclesiasticorum," Father Simon, and
Mabillon. Ed.
c £rov. xxvii. &

BOOK I.] SCRIPTURES SUPPORT DIGNITY OP KNOWLEDGE. 55

ledge and illumination are placed before the angels of office
and domination.*1

To descend from spiritual and intellectual, to sensible and
material forms ; we read the first created form was light,0
which, in nature and corporeal things, hath a relation and cor
respondence to knowledge in spirits, and things incorporeal ;
so, in the distribution of days, we find the day wherein God
rested and completed his works, was blessed above all the
days wherein he wrought them.f

After the creation was finished, it is said that man was
placed in the garden to work therein, which work could only
be work of contemplation ; that is, the end of his work was
but for exercise and delight, and not for necessity : for
there being then no reluctance of the creature, nor sweat
of the brow, man's employment was consequently matter
of pleasure, not labour. Again, the first acts which man
performed in Paradise consisted of the two summary parts
of knowledge, a view of the creature, and imposition of
names, s

In the first event after the fall, we find an image of the
two states, the contemplative and the active, figured out in
the persons of Abel and Cain, by the two simplest and most
primitive trades, that of the shepherd and that of the
husbandman ;h where again, the favour of God went to the
shepherd, and not to the tiller of the ground.

So in the age before the flood, the sacred records mention
the name of the inventors of music and workers in metal.1
In the age after the flood, the first great judgment of God
upon the ambition of man was the confusion of tongues,k
whereby the open trade and intercourse of learning and
knowledge was chiefly obstructed.

It is said of Moses, " That he was learned in all the wis
dom of the Egyptians,"1 which nation was one of the most
ancient schools of the world ; for Plato brings in the Egyp
tian priest saying to Solon, "You Grecians are ever children,
having no knowledge of antiquity, nor antiquity of know
ledge."™ In the ceremonial laws of Moses we find, that

d See Dionys. Hierarch. 7, 8, 9. • Gen. i. 3.

* Gen. ii. 3. * Gen. H. 19. * Gen. iv. 2. l Gen. iv. 21, 22.

k Gen. xi. ' Acts vii. 22. « Plat. Tim. iii. 22.

56 ADVANCEMENT OJ* LEARNING. [BOOK 1

besides the prefigiu ation of Christ, the mark of tho people of
God to distinguish them from the Gentiles, the exercise of
obedience, and other divine institutions, the most learned of
the rabbis have observed a natural and some of them a
moral sense in. many of the rites and ceremonies. Thus in
the law of the leprosy, where it is said, " If the whiteness
have overspread the flesh, the patient may pass abroad for
clean; but if there be any whole flesh remaining, he is to
be shut up for unclean,"11 — one of them notes a principle of
nature, viz., that putrefaction is more contagious before
maturity than after. Another hereupon observes a position
of moral philosophy, that men abandoned to vice do not
corrupt the manners of others, so much as those who are but
half wicked. And in many other places of the Jewish law,
besides the theological sense, there are couched many philo
sophical matters. The book of Job0 likewise will be found,
if examined with care, pregnant with the secrets of natural
philosophy. For example, when it says, " Qui extendit
Aquilonem super vacuum, et appendit terram super nihilum,"
the suspension of the earth and the convexity of the heavens
are manifestly alluded to. Again, " Spirit us ejus ornavit
cailos, et obstetricante manu ejus eductus est coluber tortu-
OSUS;"P and in another place, "Numquid conjungere valebis
micantes stellas Pleiadas, aut gyrum Arcturi poteris dis-
sipare?"^ where the immutable11 configuration of the fixed
stars, ever preserving the same position, is with elegance
described. So in another place : " Qui facit Arcturum, et
Oriona, et Hyadas,9 et interiora Austri,"1 where he again refers
to the depression of the south pole in the expression of " in-
teriora Austri," because the southern stars are not seen in.

n Leviticus xiii. 12. ° See Job xxvi. — xxxviii.

P Job xxvi. 7, 13. i xxxviii. 31.

r That is, to Job, who cannot be supposed to know what telescopes
only have revealed, that stars change their declination with unequal
degrees of motion. It is clear, therefore, that their distances must be
variable, and that in the end the figures of the constellations wilj
undergo mutation ; as this change, however, will not be perceptible for
thousands of years, it hardly conies within the limit of man's idea of
mutation, and therefore, with regard to him, may be ssid to have no
existence. Ed.

• The Hyades nearly approach the letter V in appearance.

* The crown of stars which forma a kind of imperfect circle near
Ar:turus.

flOOK L] THE LEARNING OF THE EARLY FATHERS. 57

our hemisphere.11 Again, what concerns the generation oi
living creatures, he says, "Annon sicut lac mulsisti me. et
sicut caseum coagulasti meT'x and touching mineral subjects,
" Habet argentum venarum suarum principia, et auro locus
est, in quo conflatur ; ferrum do terra tollitur, et lapis
Rolutus calore in ses vertitur,"y and so forward in the same
chapter.

Nor did the dispensation of God vary in the times after
oii7 Saviour, who himself first showed his power to subdue
ignorance, by conferring with the priests and doctors of the
law, before he showed his power to subdue nature by miracles.
And the coming of the Holy Spirit was chiefly expressed in
the gift of tongues, which are but the conveyance of know
ledge.

So in the election of those instruments it pleased God to
use for planting the faith, though at first he employed per
sons altogether unlearned, otherwise than by inspiration, the
more evidently to declare his immediate working, and to
humble all human wisdom or knowledge, yet in the next
succession he sent out his divine truth into the world, at
tended with other parts of learning as with servants or hand
maids ; thus St. Paul, who was the only learned amongst the
apostles, had his pen most employed in the writings of the
New Testament.

Again, we find that many of the ancient bishops and"1
fathers of the Church were well versed in all the learning
of the heathens, insomuch that the edict of the Emperor \
Julian prohibiting Christians the schools and exercises, was
accounted a more pernicious engine against the faith than all J
the sanguinary persecutions of his predecessors.2 Neither
could Gregory the First, bishop of Rome, ever obtain the
opinion of devotion even among the pious, for designing,
though otherwise an excellent person, to extinguish the
memory of heathen antiquity.4 But it was the Christian

w It is not true that all the southern stars are invisible in our hemi
sphere. The text applies only to those whose southern declination it
greater than the elevation ot the equator over their part of the horizon,
or, which is the same thing, than the complement of the place's lati«
tude. Ed. * x. 10. r xxviiL 1.

» Epist. ad Jamblic. Gibbon, voL ii. c. 28.

• Gibbon, vol. iv. o. 45.

58 ADVANCEMENT OF LKATiriXG. [flOOiC I.

Church which, amidst the inundations of the Scythians from
the north-west and the Saracens from the east, preserved in
her bosom the relics even of heathen learning, which had
otherwise been utterly extinguished. And of late years the
Jesuits, partly of themselves and partly provoked by example,
have greatly enlivened and strengthened the state of learn
ing, and contributed to establish the Roman see.

There are, therefore, two principal services, besides orna
ment and illustration, which philosophy and human learning
perform to faith and religion, the one effectually exciting to
the exaltation of God's glory, and the other affording a
singular preservative against unbelief and error. Our Sa
viour says, " Ye err, not knowing the Scriptures, nor the
power of God;"b thus laying before us two books to study, if
we will be secured from error; viz., the Scriptures, which
reveal the will of God, and the creation, which expresses his
power; the latter whereof is a key to the former, and not
only opens our understanding to conceive the true sense of
the Scripture by the general notions of reason and the rules
of speech, but chiefly opens our faith in drawing us to a due
consideration of the omnipotence of God, which is stamped
upon his works. And thus much for Divine testimony con
cerning the dignity and merits of learning.

Next for human proofs. Deification was the highest
honour among the heathens; that is, to obtain veneration as
a god was the supreme respect which man could pay to man,
especially when given, not by a formal act of state as it
usually was to the Roman emperors, but from a voluntary,
Internal assent and acknowledgment. This honour being
30 high, there was also constituted a middle kind, for human
honours were inferior to honours heroical and divine. An
tiquity observed this difference in their distribution, that
whereas founders of states, lawgivers, extirpers of tyrants,
fathers of the people, and other eminent persons in civil
merit, were honoured but with the titles of heroes, or demi
gods, such as Hercules, Theseus, Minos, Romulus, &c. In
ventors, and authors of new arts or discoveries for the service
of human life, were ever advanced amongst the gods, as in the
case of Ceres, Bacchus, Mercury, Apollo, and others. And this

* Matt. xxii. 29.

BOOK I.] LEARNING IN IlEPUTE AMONG THE ANCIENTS. 59

appears to have been done with great justice and judgment,
for the merits of the former being generally confined within
the circle of one age or nation, are but like fruitful showers,
which serve only for a season and a small extent, whilst the
others are like the benefits of the sun, permanent and uni
versal. Again, the former are mixed with strife and con
tention, whilst the latter have the true character of tho
Divine presence, as coming in a gentle gale without noise or
tumult.

The merit of learning in remedying the inconveniences aris
ing from man to man, is not much inferior to that of relieving
human necessities. This merit was livelily described by the
ancients in the fiction of Orpheus's theatre, where all the
beasts and birds assembled, and forgetting their several ap
petites, stood sociably together listening to the harp, whose
sound no sooner ceased, or was drowned by a louder, but
they all returned to their respective natures ; for thus men
are full of savage and unreclaimed desires, which as long as
we hearken to precepts, laws, and religion, sweetly touched
with eloquence and persuasion, so long is society and peace
maintained ; but if these instruments become silent, or sedi
tions and tumult drown their music, all things fall back to
confusion and anarchy.

This appears more manifestly when princes or governors
are learned ; for though he might be thought partial to his
profession who said, " States would then be happy, when
either kings were philosophers, or philosophers kings ;"c yet
so much is verified by experience, that the best times have
happened under wise and learned princes; for though kings
may have their errors and vices, like other men, yet if they
are illuminated by learning, they constantly retain such
notions of religion, policy, and morality, as may preserve
them from destructive and irremediable errors or excesses ;
for these notions will whisper to them, even whilst counsel
lors and servants stand mute. Such senators likewise as are
learned proceed upon more safe and substantial principles
than mere men of experience, — the former view dangers afar
off, whilst the latter discover them not till they are at hand,
and then trust to their wit to avoid them. This felicity ol

« Plato (De Republica, b. 5) ii. 475.

60 ADVANCEMENT OP LEAHNINO. [BOOK 1

times under learned princes appears eminent in the age be
tween the death of Domitian and the reign of Commodus,
comprehending a succession of six princes, all of them
learned, or singular favourers and promoters of learning.
And this age, for temporal respects, was the happiest and
most flourishing that ever the Roman state enjoyed ; as was
revealed to Domitian in a dream the night before he was
slain,0 when he beheld a neck and head of gold growing
upon his shoulders ; a vision which was, in the golden times
succeeding this divination, fully accomplished. For his
successor Nerva was a learned prince, a familiar friend and
acquaintance of Apollonius, who expired reciting that line
of Homer, — " Phcebus, with thy darts revenge our tears." d
Trajan, though not learned himself, was an admirer of learn
ing, a munificent patron of letters, and a founder of libraries.
Though the taste of his court was warlike, professors and
preceptors were found there in great credit and admiration.
Adrian was the greatest inquirer that ever lived, and an in
satiable explorer into everything curious and profound. Anto
ninus, possessing the patient and subtile mind of a scholastic,
obtained the soubriquet of Oymini Sector, or splitter of cu
min-seed.6 Of the two brothers who were raised to the rank
of gods, Lucius Commodus was versed in a more elegant kind
of learning, and Marcus was surnamed the philosopher.
These princes excelled the rest in virtue and goodness as
much as they surpassed them in learning. Nerva was a mild
philosopher, and who, if he had done nothing else than give
Trajan to the world, would have sufficiently distinguished
himself. Trajan was most famous and renowned above
nil the emperors for the arts both of peace and war. He
enlarged the bounds of empire, marked out its limits and its
power. He was, in addition, so great a builder, that Con-
istantine used to call him Parietaria, or Wallflower/ his name
being carved upon so many walls. Adrian strove with time
for the palm of duration, and repaired its decays and ruins
wherever the touch of its scythe had appeared. Antoninua
was pious in name and nature. His nature and innate good-
a ess gained him the reverence and affection of all classes,

« Suetonius, Life of Domitian, c. 2S. d Iliad, i. 42.

• " Unum de istis puto qui curuinum secant." — Julian. Caea.
1 j3ordi/if roi\ov.\ He called Adrian ipyaXaov

BOOK I,J LEARNING PROMOTES VALOUR. 61

ages, and conditions ; and his reign, like his life, was long and
unruffled by storms. Lucius Commodns, though not so per
fect as his brother, succeeded many of the emperors in virtue.
Marcus, formed by nature to be the model of every excel
lence, was so faultless, that Silenus, when he took his seat
at the banquet of the gods, found nothing to carp at in him
but his patience in humouring his wife.s Thus, in the suc
cession of these six princes, we may witness the happy
fruits of learning in sovereignty painted in the great table
of the world.

Nor has learning a less influence on military genius than
on merit employed in the state, as may be observed in the
lives of Alexander the Great and Julius Ctesar, a few ex
amples of which it will not be impertinent here to notice.

Alexander was bred under Aristotle,11 certainly a great
philosopher, who dedicated several of his treatises to him.
lie was accompanied by Calisthenes and several other
learned persons both in his travels and conquests. The
value this great monarch set upon learning appears in the
envy he expressed of Achilles's great fortune in having so
good a trumpet of his actions and prowess as Homer's verses ;
in the judgment he gave concerning what object was most
worthy to be inclosed in the cabinet of Darius found among
his spoils, which decided the question in favour of Homer's
works; in his reprehensory letter to Aristotle, when chiding
his master for laying bare the mysteries of philosophy, he
gave him to understand that himself esteemed it more glo
rious to excel others in learning and knowledge than in
power and empire. As to his own erudition, evidences of
its perfection shine forth in all his speeches and writing, of
which, though only small fragments have come down to us,
yet even these are richly impressed with the footsteps of the
moral sciences. For example, take his words to Diogenes,
and judge if they do not inclose the very kernel of one of
the greatest questions in moral philosophy, viz., whether the
enjoyment or the contempt of earthly things leads to the
greatest happiness ; for upon seeing Diogenes contented with
KO little, he turned round to his courtiers, who were deriding
the cynic's condition, and said, " If I were not Alexander, T

* Julian. Ccesares.

* for these anecdoteu see Plutarch's life of Alex.

C2 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK I.

would be Diogenes." (But Seneca, in his comparison, gives
the preference to Diogenes, saying that Diogenes had more
things to refuse than it was in the disposition of Alexander
to confer.)1 For his skill in natural science, observe his cus
tomary saying, that he felt his mortality chiefly in two
things — sleep and lust.k This expression, pointing as it does
to the indigence and redundance of nature manifested by
these two harbingers of death, savours more of an Aristotle
and a Democritus than of an Alexander. In poesy, regard
him rallying in his wounds one of his flatterers, who was
wont to ascribe unto him Divine honour. " Look," said he,
"this is the blood of a man — not such liquor as Homer
speaks of, which ran from Venus's hand when it was pierced
by Diomedes."1 In logic, observe, in addition to his power
of detecting fallacies and confuting or retorting arguments,
his rebuke to Cassancler, who ventured to confute the ar-
raigners of Antipater, his father, Alexander having inciden
tally asked, " Do you think these men would come so far to
complain, except they had just cause?" Cassander replied,
"That was the very thing which had given them courage, since
they hoped that the length of the journey would entirely clear
them of calumnious motives." " See," said Alexander, " the
subtilty of Aristotle, taking the matter pro and cow." Ne
vertheless he did not shrink to turn the same art to his own
advantage which he reprehended in others; for, bearing a
secret grudge to Calisthenes, upon that rhetorician having
drawn down great applause by delivering, as was usual at
banquets, a spontaneous discourse in praise of the Macedonian
nation, Alexander remarked, that it was easy to be eloquent
upon a good topic, and requested him to change his note, and
let the company hear what he could say against them. Calis
thenes obeyed the request with such sharpness and vivacity,
that Alexander interrupted him, saying, " That a perverted
mind, as well as a choice topic, would breed eloquence." As
regards rhetoric, consider his rebuke of Antipater, an im
perious and tyrannous governor, when one of Antipater's
friends ventured to extol his moderation to Alexander, say
ing that he had not fallen into the Persian pride of wearing
the purple, but still retained the Macedonian habit. " But

1 Seneca de Benef. v. 5. k Vid< Seneca, Ep. Mor. vi. 7.;

1 Iliad, iv, 340.

BOOK i.] ALEXANDER'S LEARNING SHOWN IN HIS SAYINGS. 63

Antipater," replied Alexander, " is all purple within."111 Con
sider also that other excellent metaphor which he used to
Parmenio, when that general showed him, from the plains of
Arbella, the innumerable multitude of his enemies, which,
viewed as they lay encamped in the night, represented a host
of stars ; and thereupon advised Alexander to assail them at
once. The hero rejected the proposition, saying, " I will not
steal a victory." As concerns policy, weigh that grave and
wise distinction, which all ages have accepted, which he
made between his two chief friends, Hephsestion and Craterus,
saying, " That the one loved Alexander, and the other the
king." Also observe how he rebuked the error ordinary
with counsellors of princes, which leads them to give advice
according to the necessity of their own interest and fortune,
and not of their master's. When Darius had made certain
proposals to Alexander, Parmenio said, "I would accept these
conditions if I were Alexander." Alexander replied, " So
surely would I were I Parmenio." Lastly, consider his reply
to his friends, who asked him what he would reserve for
himself, since he lavished so many valuable gifts upon others.
" Hope," said Alexander, who well knew that, all accounts
being cleared — "hope is the true inheritance of all that resolve
upon great enterprises." This was Julias Caesar's portion
when he went into Gaul, all his estate being exhausted by
profuse largess. And it was also the portion of that noble
prince, howsoever transported with ambition, Henry, duke
of Guise; for he was pronounced the greatest usurer in all
France, because all his wealth was in names, and he had
turned his whole estate into obligations. But perhaps the
admiration of this prince in the light, not of a great king,
but as Aristotle's scholar, has carried me too far.

As regards Julius Cajsar, his learning is not only evinced
in his education, company, and speeches, but in a greater
degree shines forth in such of his works as have descended to
us. In the Commentary, that excellent history which he has
left us, of his own wars, succeeding ages have admired the
solidity of the matter, the vivid passages and the lively
images of actions and persons, expressed in the greatest
propriety of diction and perspicuity of narration. That this

Apop K«g. et Imp.

64 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK L

excellence of style was not the effect of undisciplined talent,
but also of learning and precept, is evident from that work
of his, entitled De Analogia,n in which he propounds the
principles of grammatical philosophy, and endeavours to
fashion mere conventional forms to congruity of expression,
taking, as it were, the picture of words from the life of reason.
\Ve also perceive another monument of his genius and learn
ing in the reformation of the Calendar, in accomplishing
which he is reported to have said that he esteemed it as
great a glory to himself to observe and know the law of the
heavens, as to give; laws to men upon earth. In his A nti-
Cato,° he contended as much for the palm of wit as he strove
In his battles for victory, and did not shrink from confronting
the greatest champion of the pen in those times, Cicero the
orator. Again, in his book of apophthegms, he deemed it
more honourable to note the wise sayings of others, than to
record every word of his own as an oracle or apophthegm, as
many vain princes are by flattery urged to do.P And yet,
should I enumerate any of them, as I did before those of
Alexander, we should find them to be such as Solomon points
to in the saying, " Verba sapientum tanquam aculei,et tanquam
clavi in altum defixi."^ Of these, however, I shall only relate
three, not so remarkable for elegance as for vigour and
efficacy. He who could appease a mutiny in his army by a
word, must certainly be regarded as a master of language.
This Cresar performed under the following circumstances.
The generals always addressed the army as milites ; the
magistrates, on the other hand, in their charges to the
people used the word Quirites. Now the soldiers being in
tumult, and feignedly praying to be disbanded, with a view
to draw Caesar to other conditions, the latter resolved not to
succumb, and after a short pause, began his speech with
" Ego, Quirites," r which implied they were at once cashiered :
upon which, the soldiers were so astonished and confused
that they relinquished their demands, and begged to bo
addressed by the old appellation of milites. The second
easing thus transpired. Caesar extremely affected the narno

11 Vid. Cic. Brutu*, 72.

0 Vid. Cic. ad Att. xii. 40, 41 ; xiii. 50 ; and Top. xxv.
P Cic. ad Fani. ix. 16. «* Eccl. xii. 11,

« S«iet. Life Jul. Caes. c. 70.

BOCK I I fllE WISDOM OF JULIUS C.VSA1L Oft

of king, and some were set on to salute him with that title
or, he passed by. Caesar, however, finding the cry weak and
poor, put it off thus in a kind of jest, as if they had mis
taken his surname : " Non rex sum, sed Caesar/' 8 I am not
king, but Caesar,* an expression, the pregnancy of which it
is difficult to exhaust ; for tirst, it was a refusal of the name,
though not serious ; again, it displayed infinite confidence
and magnanimity in presuming Caesar to be the greater
title, a presumption which posterity has fully confirmed.
But chiefly the expression is to be admired as betraying a
great incentive to his designs, as if the state strove with him
for a mere name, with which even mean families were in
vested. For Rex was a surname with the Romans, as well
as King is with us. The last saying I shall mention, refers
to Metellus : as so:;n as Caesar had seized Rome, he made
straightway to the aerarium to seize the money of the state ;
but Metellus being tribune, forestalled his purpose, and denied
him entrance : whereupon Caesar threatened, if he did not
desist, to lay him dead on the spot. But presently checking
himself, added, "Adolescens, durius est mini hoc dicere quam
facere ;" Young man, it is harder for me to say this than to
do it.u A sentence compounded of the greatest terror and
clemency thaf -rculd proceed out of the mouth of man. But
to conclude- .»juh Cae^r. It is evident he was quite aware
of his proficiency in this respect, from his scoffing at the idea
of the ^ange resolution of Sylla, which some one expressed
about his resignation of the dictatorship: "Sylla," said Caesar,
"was unlettered, and therefore knew not how to dictate." x

A "A here we should cease descanting on the concurrence
of military virtue with learning, as no example could come
with any grace after Alexander and Caesar, were it not for
an extraordinary case touch ir^ Xenophon, which raised that
philosopher from the depths ^>L scorn to the highest pinnacle
of admiration. In his youth, without either command or
experience, that philosopher followed the expedition of

• Suet. Lifa Jul. Caes. 79.

1 The point of this expression arises from the absence of the article in
the Latin tongue, which made rex, a king, exactly convertible with the
title df those families who bore Rex for their surname. With us, also,
there are many individuals who bear the name of King, and among the
French the n:unc Koi is not uncommon, Ed.

L 1'lutarchj cf. (Jic. ad Att. x. 8. « Suet. Life, Ixxvii.

f

66 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK L

Gyms the younger against Artaxerxes, as a volunteer, to
enjoy the love and conversation of his friend Proxcnus.*
Cyrus being slain on the field, Falinus came to the remnant
of his army with a message from the king, who, presuming
on the fewness of their number, and the perilous nature of
their position in the midst of foreign enemies, cut off from
their country by many navigable rivers, and many hundred
miles, had dared to command them to surrender their army,
and submit entirely to his mercy. Before an answer was
returned, the heads of the army conferred familiarly with
Falinus, and among the rest Xenophon happened to say,
" Why, Falinus, we have only these two things left, our arms
and our virtue, and if we yield up our arms, liow can we
make use of our virtue T' Falinus, with an ironical smile,
replied, " If I be not deceived, young man, you are an
Athenian ; and I believe you study philosophy, as you talk
admirably well. But you grossly deceive yourself if you
think your courage can withstand the king's power." z Here
was the scorn, but the wonder followed. This young philoso
pher, just emerged from the school of Socrates, after all the
chieftains of the armyhad been murdered by treason, conducted
those ten thousand foot through the heart of the king's
territories, from Babylon to Grrecia, untouched by any of the
king's forces. The world, at this act of the young scholar,
was stricken with astonishment, and the Greeks encouraged
in succeeding ages to invade the kings of Persia. Jason
the Thessalian proposed the plan, Agesilaus the Spartan
attempted its execution, and Alexander the Macedonian
finally achieved the conquest.

To proceed from imperial and military, to moral and
private virtue ; it is certain that learning softens the
barbarity and fierceness of men's minds, according to the
poet,

" Scilicet ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes
Emollit mores, nee sinit esse ieros."*

But then it must not be superficial, for this rather works a
contraiy effect. Solid learning prevents all levity, temerity,
and insolence, by suggesting doubts and difficulties, and

r Xon. Anab. ii. towards the end. « Xen. Anab, ii. 1—12,

• Ovid. Ep. Pont. ii. ix. 47,

BOOK I.] LEARNING EXALTS MANKIND. 67

inuring the mind to balance the reasons on both sides, and
reject the first offers of things, or to accept of nothing but
what is first examined and tried. It prevents vain admira
tion, which is the root of all weakness : things being admired
either because they are new, or because they are great. A3
for novelty, no man can wade deep in learning, without dis
covering that he knows nothing thoroughly ; nor can we
wonder at a puppet-show, if we look behind the curtain.
With regard to greatness ; as Alexander, after having been
used to great armies, and the conquests of large provinces in
Asia, when he received accounts of battles from Greece,
which were commonly for a pass, a fort, or some walled
town, imagined he was but reading Homer's battle of the
frogs and the mice ; so if a man considers the universal
frame, the earth and its inhabitants will seem to him but as
an ant-hill, where some carry grain, some their young, some
go empty, and all march but upon a little heap of dust.

Learning also conquers or mitigates the fear of death and
adverse fortune, which is one of the greatest impediments to
virtue and morality ; for if a man's mind be deeply seasoned
with the consideration of the mortality and corruptibility »f
things, he will be as little affected as Epictetus, who one day
seeing a woman weeping for her pitcher that was broken,
and the next day a woman weeping for her son that was
dead, said calmly, " Yesterday I saw a brittle thing broken,
and to-day a mortal die." b And hence Virgil excellently
joined the knowledge of causes and the conquering of fears
together as concomitants : —

" Felix qui potuit re rum cognoscere causas,
Quique metus omnes, et inexorabile fatuni,
Subjecit pedibus ; strepitumque Acherontis avari."'

It were tedious to enumerate the particular remedies
which learning affords for all the diseases of the mind, some
times by purging the morbific humours, sometimes by open
ing obstructions, helping digestion, increasing the appetite,
and sometimes healing exulcerations, &c. But to sum up
all, it disposes the mind not to fix or settle in defects, but to
remain ever susceptible of improvement and reformation j

b See Epictetus, I'nchir. c. 33, with the. gomment ot Simplicius.
. ii. 490,

F2

68 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. .LOOK i.

for the illiterate person knows not what it is to descend into
himself, or call himself to an account, nor the agreeableness
of that life which is daily sensible of its own improvement ;
lie may perhaps learn to show and employ his natural talents,
but not increase them ; he will learn to hide and colour his
faults, but not to amend them, like an unskilful mower, who
continues to mow on without whetting his scythe. The man
of learning, on the. contrary, always joins the correction and
improvement c* nis mind with the use and employment
thereof. To conclude, truth and goodness differ but as the
seal and the impression ; for truth imprints goodness, whilst
the storms of vice and perturbation break from the clouds of
error and falsehood.

From moral virtue we proceed to examine whether any
power be equal to that afforded by knowledge. Dignity of
command is always proportionable to the dignity of the com
manded. To have command over brutes as a herdsman is a
mean thing; to have command over children as a school
master is a matter of small honour ; and to have command
over slaves is rather a disgrace than an honour. Nor is the
command of a tyrant much better over a servile and dege
nerate people ; whence honours in free monarchies and re
publics have ever been more esteemed than in tyrannical
governments, because to rule a willing people is more honour
able than to compel. But the command of knowledge is
higher than the command over a free people, as being a com
mand over the reason, opinion, and understanding of men,
which are the noblest faculties of the mind that govern the
will itself; for there is no power on earth that can set iip a
throne in the spirits of men but knowledge and learning;
whence the detestable and extreme pleasure wherewith arch-
heretics, false prophets, and impostors are transported upon
finding they have a dominion over the faith and consciences of
men, a pleasure so great, that if once tasted scarce any tor
ture or persecution can make them forego it. But as this is
what the Apocalypse calls the depths of Satan,d so the just
*v>d lawful rule over men's understanding by the evidence of
trutn and gentle persuasion, is what approaches nearest to
tiie Uivine sovereignty.

With regard to honours and private fortune, the benefit
* Rev. \i. 24.

BOOK I.] EXCELS OTHER 3OURCES OF PLEASURE. 69

of learning is not so confined to states as not likewise to
reach particular persots; for it is an old observation, that
Homer has given more men their livings than Sylla. Caesar,
or Augustus, notwithstanding their great largesses. And it
is hard to say whether arms or learning h<we advanced the
greater numbers. In point of sovereignt}-, if arms or descent
have obtained the kingdom, yet learning has obtained the
priesthood, which was ever in competition with empire.

Again, the pleasure and delight of knowledge and learn
ing surpass all others; for if the pleasures of the affections
exceed the pleasures of the senses as much as the obtaining
a desire or a victory exceeds a song or a treat, shall not the
pleasures of the understanding exceed the pleasures of the
affections 1 In all other pleasures there is a satiety, and after
use their verdure fades; which shows they are but deceits and
fallacies, and that it was the novelty which pleased, not the
quality ; whence voluptuous men frequently turn friars, and
ambitious princes melancholy. But of knowledge there is
no satiety, for here gratification and appetite are perpetually
interchanging, and consequently this is good in itself, simply,
without fallacy or accident. Nor is that a small pleasure
and satisfaction to the mind, which Lucretius describes to
this effect:6 — "It is a scene of delight to be safe on shore
and see a ship tossed at sea, or to be in a fortification and
see two armies join battle upon a plain. But it is a pleasure
incomparable for the mind to be seated by learning in the
fortress of truth, and from thence to view the errors and
labours of others."

To conclude. The dignity and excellence of knowledge
and learning is wrhat human nature most aspires to for the
securing of immortality, which is also endeavoured after by
raising and ennobling families, by buildings, foundations,
and monuments of fame, and is in effect the bent of all other
human desires. But we see how much more durable the
monuments of genius and learning are than those of the
hand. The verses of Homer have continued above five an&.
twenty hundred years without loss, in which time number
less palaces, temples, castles, and cities have been demolished
and are fallen to ruin. It is impossible to have the true pio-

e " Suave mari magno urban tiou* oequova ventis." &c De Rercra
Nt;ua, ii. 1-13.

70 1DVANCKMENT OF I.EARSIXQ. [BOOK I.

hires or statues of Cyrus. Alexander, Caesar or the great
personages of much later date, for the original cannot last,
and the copies must lose life and truth; but the images of
men's knowledge remain in books, exempt from the injuries
of time, and capable of perpetual renovation. Nor are these
properly called images ; because they generate still, and sow
their seed in the minds of others, so as to cause infinite
actions and opinions in succeeding ages. If, therefore, the
invention of a ship was thought so noble, which carries com
modities from place to place and consociateth the remotest
regions in participation of their fruits, how much more are
letters to be valued, which, like ships, pass through the vast
ocean of time, and convey knowledge and inventions to the
remotest ages? Nay, some of the philosophers who were
most immersed in the senses, and denied the immortality of
the soul, yet allowed that whatever motions the spirit of
man could perform without the organs of the body might
remain after death, which are only those of the understanding,
and not of the affections, so immortal and incorruptible a
thing did knowledge appear to them.f And thus having en
deavoured to do justice to the cause of knowledge, divine
and human, we shall leave Wisdom to be justified of her
children.*

f The merits of learning have been incidentally shown l»y many, but
expressly by few. Among the latter may be included Johannes
AVomveiius de Polymathia, Gulielmus Budaeus de Philologia, Morhof
in " Hist. Polyhister," and Stollius in " Introduct. in Historian! Lite-
rariam." To these may be added, Baron Spanheim, M. Perault, Sb
William Temple, Gibbon, and Milton, bd.

f Matt. XL W.

BOOK II.] KOYAL PATRONAGE CONSIDERED. 71

SECOND BOOK.

CHAPTER I.

General Divisions of Learning into History, Poetry, and Philosophy, in
relation to the Three Faculties of the Mind — Memory, Imagination,
jind Reason. The same Distribution applies to Theology.

TO THE KING.

IT is befitting, excellent King, that those who are blessed
with a numerous offspring, and who have a pledge in their
descendants that their name will be carried down to pos
terity, should be keenly alive to the welfare of future times,
in which their children are to perpetuate their power and
empire. Queen Elizabeth, with respect to her celibacy, was
rather a sojourner than an inhabitant of the present world,
yet she was an ornament to her age and prosperous in many
of her undertakings. But to your Majesty, whom God has
blessed with so much royal issue, worthy to immortalize
your name, it particularly appertains to extend your cares
beyond the present age, which is already illuminated with
your wisdom, and extend your thoughts to those works
which will interest remotest posterity. Of such designs, if
affection do not deceive me, there is none more worthy and
noble than the endowment of the world with sound and
fruitful knowledge. For why should a few favourite authors
stand up like Hercules' Columns, to bar further sailing and
discovery, especially since we have so bright and benign a
star in your Majesty to guide and conduct us ?

It remains, therefore, that we consider the labours which
princes and others have undertaken for the advancement of
learning, and this markedly and pointedly, without digres
sion or amplification. Let it then be granted, that to the
completion of any work munificent patronage is as essential
as soundness of direction and conjunction of labours. The
Hrst multiplies energy, the second prevents error, ami the
third compensates for human weakness. But the principal
of these is direction, or the pointing out and the delineatiou

72 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [tiOOK. II,

of the direct way to tlic completion of the object in view.
For " claudus in via antevertit cursorem extra viam ;n
and Solomon appositely says, " If the iron is not pointed,
greater strength is to be used ;"a — so what really prevailetli
over everything is wisdom, by which he insinuates that a
wise selection of means leads us more directly to our object
than a straining or accumulation of strength. Without
wishing to derogate from the merit of those who in any way
have advanced learning, this much I have been led to say,
from perceiving that their works and acts have tended
rather to the gloiy of their name than the progression or
proficiency of the sciences, — to augment the man of learning
in the minds of philosophers, rather than reform or elevate
the sciences themselves.

The institutions which relate to the extension of letters
are threefold, viz., schools and universities, books, and pro
fessors. For as water, whether of the dew of heaven or
spring of the earth, would speedily lose itself in the ground
unless collected into conduits and cisterns, so it seemeth this
excellent liquor of knowledge, whether it descend from Di
vine inspiration or spring from human sense, would soon hide
itself in oblivion, unless collected in books, traditions, aca
demies, and schools, it, might find a permanent seat, and a
fructifying union of strength.

The works which concern the seats of learning are four, — <
buildings, endowments, privileges, and charters, which all
promote quietness and seclusion, freedom from cares and
anxieties. Such stations resemble those which Virgil pre
scribes for beehiving : —

" Principio sedes apibus, statioque petenda
Quo neque sit ventis aditus."1'

The works which relate to books are two, — first, libraries,
which are as the shrines where the bones of old saints full of
virtue lie buried ; secondly, new editions of writers, with
corrector impressions, more faultless versions, more useful
commentaries, and more learned annotations.

Finally, the works which pertain to the persons of the
learned are, besides the general patronage which ought to
be extended to them, twofold. The foundation of

• Ecc. x. 10. * Georg. iv. 8.

CHAP. 1.] FOUNDATIONS SHOULD NOT BE UESTfttCTED. 73

ships in sciences already extant, and in those not yet begun
or imperfectly elaborated.

These are, in short, the institutions on which princes and
other illustrious men have displayed their zeal for letters.
To me, dwelling upon each patron of letters, that notion of
Cicero occurs, which urged him upon his return not to par
ticularize, but to give general thanks, — " Difficile non ali-
quem, in gratum quenquam, prseterire." c Rather should we,
conformably to Scripture, look forward to the course we
have yet to run, than regard the ground already behind us.

First, therefore, I express my surprise, that among so
many illustrious colleges in Europe, all the foundations are
angrossed by the professions, none being left for the free cul
tivation of the arts and sciences. Though men judge well
who assert that learning should be referred to action, yet by
reposing too confidently in this opinion, they are apt to fall
into the error of the ancient fable,d which represented the
members of the body at war with the stomach, because it
alone, of all the parts of the frame, seemed to rest, and
absorb all the nourishment. For if any man esteem philo
sophy and every study of a general character to be idle, he
plainly forgets that on their proficiency the state of every
other learning depends, and that they supply strength and
force to its various branches. I mainly attribute the lame
progress of knowledge hitherto to the neglect or the inci
dental study of the general sciences. For if you want a tree
to produce more than its usual burden of fruit, it is not any
thing you can do to the branches that will effect this object,
but the excitation of the earth about its roots and increasing
the fertility of the soil ; nor must it be overlooked that this
restriction of foundations and endowments to professional
learning has not only dwarfed the growth of the sciences,
but been prejudicial to states and governments themselves.
For since there is no collegiate course so free as to allow those
who are inclined to devote themselves to history, modern
languages, civil policy, and general literature ; princes find
a dearth of able men to manage their affairs and efficiently
conduct the business of the commonwealth.

Since the founders of colleges plant, and those who endow

c Apocryphal Orat. post Red it. in Sen. xii. 30 ; cf. pro Tl. xxx. 74.
Menenius Agrippa, Livy, ii. 32.

74 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II.

them water, we are naturally led to speak in tins place of
the mean salaries apportioned to public lectureships, whether
in the sciences or the arts. For such offices being instituted
not for an ephemeral purpose, but for the constant transmis
sion and extension of learning, it is of the utmost importance
that the men selected to fill them be learned and gifted.
But it is idle to expect that the ablest scholars will employ
their whole energy and time in such functions unless the
reward be answerable to that competency which may be ex
pected from the practice of a profession. The sciences will
only flourish on the condition of David's military law, — that
those who remain with the baggage shall have equal part
with those who descend to the tight, otherwise the baggage
will be neglected. Lecturers being in like manner guardians
of the literary stores whence those who are engaged in active
service draw, it is but just that their labours should be
equally recompensed, otherwise the reward of the fathers of
the sciences not being sufficiently ample, the verse will be
realized, —

" Et patrum invalid! referent jejunia nati."e
The next deficiency we shall notice is, the want of philo
sophical instruments, in crying up which we are aided by
the alchemists, who call upon men to sell their books, and to
build furnaces, rejecting Minerva and the Muses as barren
virgins, and relying upon Vulcan. To study natural phi
losophy, physic, and many other sciences to advantage,
books are not the only essentials, — other instruments are
required \ nor has the munificence of men been altogether
wanting in their provisions. For spheres, globes, astrolabes,
maps, and the like, have been provided for the elucidation
of astronomy and cosmography; and many schools of medi
cine are provided with gardens for the growth of simples,
and supplied with dead bodies for dissection. But these
concern only a few things. In general, however, there will
be no inroad made into the secrets of nature unless experi
ments, be they of Vulcan or Daedalus, furnace, engine, or
any other kind, are allowed for ; and therefore as the secre
taries and spies of princes and states bring in bills for intel
ligence, so TUU must allow the spies and intelligences of
nature to bring in their bills, or else you will be ignorant of
• Virg. Georg. iii. 128.

ClfAP. I.] DEFECTIVE TEACHING IN THE UNIVERSITIES. 75

many things worthy to be known. And if Alexander placed
so large a treasure at Aristotle's command, for the support
of hunters, fowlers, Ushers, and the like, in much more need
do they stand of this beneficence who unfold the labyrinths
of nature.

Another defect I discover is the neglect in vice-chan
cellors, heads of houses, princes, inspectors, and others, of
proper supervision or diligent inquiry into the course of
studies, with a view to a thorough reformation of such parts
as are ill suited to the age, or of unwise institution. For it
is one of your Majesty's sage maxims, that as respects cus
toms and precedents, we must consider the times in which
they took their rise, since much is detracted from their
authority, if such are found feeble and ignorant. It is, there
fore, all the more requisite, since the university statues were
framed in very obscure times, to institute an inquiry into
their origin. Of errors of this nature I will give an example
or two from such objects as are most obvious and familiar.
The one is, that scholars are inducted too early into logic and
rhetoric, — arts which, being the cream of all others, are fitter
for graduates than children and novices. Now, being the
gravest of the sciences, these arts are composed of rules and
directions, for setting forth and methodizing the matter of the
rest, and, therefore, for rude and blank minds, who have not yet
gathered that which Cicero styles sylva and supellex* matter,
and fecundity, to begin with those arts is as if one were to paint
or measure the wind, and has no other effect than to degrade
the universal wisdom of these arts into childish sophistry and
contemptible affectation. This error has had the inevitable
result of rendering the treatises on those sciences superficial,
and dwarfing them to the capacities of children. Another
error to be noticed in the present academical system is the
separation between invention and memory, their exercises
either being nothing but a set form of words, where no play is
given to the understanding, or extemporaneous, in the deli
very of which no room is left to the memory. In practical
life, however, a blending of the powers of judgment and
memory is alone put into requisition, so that these practices,
not being adapted to the life of action, rather pervert than

f Sylva de Orat iii. 26 ; Supellex Orat. xxiv.

76 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II

discipline the mind. This defect is sooner discovered by
scholars than by others, when they come to the practice of
the civil professions. We may conclude our observations
on university reform, with the expression of Caesar in his
letter to Oppius and Balbus : " Hoc quemadmodum fieri
possit, nonnulla mini in mentem veniunt, et multa reperiri
possunt : de iis rebus rogo vos, ut cogitationem suscipiatis." 8

The next want I discover is the little sympathy and cor
respondence which exists between colleges and universities,
as well throughout Europe as in the same state and kingdom.
In this we have an example in many orders and sodalities,
which, though scattered over several sovereignties and terri
tories, yet enter into a kind of contract, fraternity, and cor
respondence with one another, and are associated under com
mon provincials and generals. And, surely, as nature creates
brotherhood in families, and trades contract brotherhood in
communities,11 and the anointment of God establishes a
brotherhood in kings and bishops, in like manner there
should spring up a fraternity in learning and illumination,
relating to that paternity which is attributed to God, who
is called the Father of lights.

Lastly, T may lament that no fit men have been engaged
to forward those sciences which yet remain in an unfinished
state. To supply this want it may be of service to perform,
as it were, a lustrum of the sciences, and take account of
what have been prosecuted and what omitted. For the idea
of abundance is one of the causes of dearth ; and the multi
tude of books produces a deceitful impression of superfluity.
This, however, is not to be remedied by destroying the books
already written, but by making more good ones, which, like tho
serpent of Moses, may devour the serpents of the enchanters. i
The removal of the defects I have enumerated, except the
last, are indeed opera basilica, towards which the endeavours of
one man can be but as an image on a cross road, which points
out the way, but cannot tread it. But as the survey of the
sciences which we have proposed lies within the power of a

* Cic. ad Att. ix. 7.

h The original is sodality, or guild societies, which had their origin in
the middle ages, when members of the same calling formed a common
fund and joined in certain spiritual exercises, taking a saint for their

Con out of tho Romai calendar. These institutions have *inot
me commercial. Ed. ' Exod. vii. 10.

CHAP. I.] IN WHAT RESPECTS WORKS ARE POSSIBLE. 77

private individual, it is my intention to make the cir :uit of
Knowledge, noticing what parts lie waste and uncultivated.

and abandoned by the industry of man, with a view to engage,
by a faithful mapping out of the deserted tracks, the energies
of public and private persons in their improvement. My
attention, however, is alone confined to the discovery, not to
the correction of errors. For it is one thing to point out
what land lies uncultivated, and another thing to improve
imperfect husbandry.

In completing this design, I am ignorant neither of the
greatness of the work nor my own incapacity. My hope,
however, is, chat, if the extreme love of my subject carry me
too far, I may at least obtain the excuse of affection. It is
not granted to man to love and be wise : " amare et sapere."
On such topics opinion is free, and that liberty of judgment
which I exercise myself lies equally at the disposition of all.
And I for my part shall be as glad to receive correction from
others as I am ready to point out defects myself. It is the
common duty of humanity : " nain qui erranti comiter r.ion-
strat viam."k I, indeed, foresee that many of the defects and
omissions I shall point out will be much censured, some as
being already completed, and others as too difficult to be
effected. For the first objection I must refer to the details
of my subject ; with regard to the last, 1 take it for granted
that those works are possible which may be accomplished by
some person, though not by every one ; which may be done
by many, though not by one ; which may be completed in the
•succession of ages, though not within the hour-glass of one
man's life ; and which may reached by public effort, though
not by private endeavour. Nevertheless, if any man prefer
the sentence of Solomon — " Dicit piger. Leo est in via ;'M to
that of Virgil, " possunt, quia posse videntur""1 — I shall be
content to have my labours received but as the better kind
of wishes. For as it requires some knowledge to a,sk an
apposite question, he also cannot be deemed foolish who
entertains sensible desires.

The justest division of human learning is that derived
from the three different faculties of the soul, the seat of
learning : history being relative to the memory, poetry to tho

k Cio. de O$. i. 1$, ' frov. xxii. 13. »' Vir-. /En. v. 2S1.

78 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IX.

imagination, and philosophy to the reason. By poetry we
understand no more than feigned history or fable, without
regard at present to the poetical style. History is properly
concerned about individuals, circumscribed by time and
place ; so likewise is poetry, with this difference, that its
individuals are feigned, with a resemblance to true history,
yet like painting, so as frequently to exceed it. But philo
sophy, forsaking individuals, fixes upon notions abstracted
from them, and is employed in compounding and separating
these notions according to the laws of nature and the evi
dence of things themselves.

Any one will easily perceive the justness of this division
that recurs to the origin of our ideas. Individuals first
strike the sense, which is as it were the port or entrance of
the understanding. Then the understanding ruminates upon
these images or impressions received from the sense, either
simply reviewing them, or wantonly counterfeiting and imi
tating them, or forming them into certain classes by com
position or separation. Thus it is clearly manifest that
history, poetry, and philosophy flow from the three distinct
fountains of the mind, viz., the memory, the imagination,
and the reason ; without any possibility of increasing their
number. For history and experience are one and the same
thing ; so are philosophy and the sciences.

Nor does divine learning require any other division ; for
though revelation and sense may differ both in matter and
manner, yet the spirit of man and its cells are the same ;
and in this case receive, as it were, different liquors through
different conduits. Theology, therefore, consists — 1. of sacred
history ; 2. parable, or divine poesy ; and 3. of holy doctrine
or precept, as its fixed philosophy. As for prophecy, which
seems a part redundant, it is no more than a species of
history ; divine history having this prerogative over human,
'•hat the narration may precede, as well us succeed the fact,

CHAP. II.] VARIOUS KINDS OP NATURAL HISTORY. 79

CHAPTER II.

History divided into Natur.il and Civil ; — Civil subdivided into Eccle'
siastical and Literary. The Division of Natural History according to
the subject matter, into the H:?tory of Generations, of Prater-
Generations, and the Arts.

HISTORY is either natural or civil : the natural records the
works and acts of nature ; the civil, the works and acts of
men. Divine interposition is unquestionably seen in both,
particularly in the affairs of men, so far as to constitute a
different species of history, which we call sacred or ecclesias
tical. But such is the dignity of letters and arts, that they
deserve a separate history, which, as well as the ecclesiastical,
we comprehend under civil history.

"We form our division of natural history upon the three
fold state and condition of nature ; which is, 1. either free,
proceeding in her ordinary course, without molestation ;
or 2. obstructed by some stubborn and less common matters,
and thence put out of her course, as in the production of
monsters ; or 3. bound and wrought upon by human means,
for the production of things artificial. Let all natural his
tory, therefore, be divided into the history of generations,
praetergenerations, and arts ; the first to consider nature at
liberty ; the second, nature in her errors ; and the third,
nature in constraint.

The history of arts should the rather make a species of
natural history, because of the prevalent opinion, as if art
were a different thing from nature, and things natural
different from things artificial : whence many writers of
natural history think they perform notably, if they give us
the history of animals, plants, or minerals, without a word
of the mechanic arts. A farther mischief is to have art
esteemed no more than an assistant to nature, so as to help
her forwards, correct or set her free, and not to bend, change,
and radically affect her ; whence an untimely despair has
crept upon mankind ; who should rather be assured that
artificial things differ not from natural in form or essence,
but only in the efficient : for man has no power over nature
in anything but motion, whereby he either puts bodies to
gether, or separates them. And therefore, so far as natural
bodies may be separated or conjoined, man may do anything.

80 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOX IL

Nor matters it, if things are put in order lor producing
e fleets, whether it be done by human means or otherwise.
Gold is sometimes purged by the lire, and sometimes found
naturally pure : the rainbow is produced after a natural way,
in a cloud above ; or made artificially, by the sprinkling of
water below. As nature, therefore, governs all things by
means, — 1. of her general course ; 2. her excursion ; and 3. by
means of human assistance ; these three parts must be received
into natural history, as in some measure they are by Pliny.

The first of these parts, the history of creatures, is extant
in tolerable perfection ; but the two others, the history of
monsters and the history of arts, may be noted as deficient.
For I find no competent collection o£ the works of nature
digressing from the ordinary course of generations, produc
tions, and motions ; whether they be' singularities of place
and region, or strange events of time and chance j effects of
unknown properties, or instances of exceptions to general
rules. We have indeed many books of fabulous experiments,
secrets, and frivolous impostures, for pleasure and strangeness;
but a substantial and well-purged collection of heteroclitos,
or irregularities of nature, carefully examined and described,
especially with a due rejection of fable and popular error, ig
wanting : for as things now stand, if false facts in nature be
once on foot, through the neglect of examination, the coun
tenance of antiquity, and the use made of them in discourse,
they are scarce ever retracted.

The design of such a work, of which we have a precedent
in Aristotle, is not to content curious and vain minds, but —
1. to correct the depravity of axioms and opinions, founded
upon common and familiar examples ; and 2. to show the
wonders of nature, which give the shortest passage to the
wonders of art : for by carefully tracing nature in her
wanderings, we may be enabled to lead or compel her to the
name again. Nor would we in this history of wonders have
Hiiperstitious narrations of sorceries, witchcrafts, dreams,
divinations, &c. totally excluded, where there is full evidence
of the fact ; because it is not yet known in what cases, and
now far effects attributed to superstition, depend upon
natural causes. And, therefore, though the practice of such
things is to be condemned ; yet the consideration of them
afford light, not only in judging criminals Lut iu

CHAP. II.] IMPORTANCE OF MINUTE INQUIRIES. 81

a deeper disclosure of nature. Nor should men scruple
examining into these things, in order to discover truth : the
sun, though it passes through dirty places, yet remains as
pure as before. Those narrations, however, which have a
tincture of superstition, should be kept separate, and un
mixed with others, that are merely natural. But the
relations of religious prodigies and miracles, as being either
false or supernatural, are unfit to enter into a history of
nature.

As for the history of nature wrought or formed, we have
some collections of agriculture and manual arts, but com
monly with a rejection of familiar and vulgar experiments,
which yet are of more service in the interpretation of nature
than the uncommon ones : an inquiry into mechanical
matters being reputed a dishonour to learning ; unless such
as appear secrets, rarities, and subtilties. This supercilious
arrogance, Plato justly derides in his representation of the
dispute between Hippias and Socrates touching beaut}'.
Socrates is represented, in his careless manner, citing first an
example of a fair virgin, then a fine horse, then a smooth pot
curiously glazed. This last instance moved Hippias's choler,
who said, " Were it not for politeness' sake, I would disdain to
dispute with any that alleged such low and sordid examples."
Whereupon Socrates replied, "You have reason, and it be
comes you well, being a man so sprucely attired, and so trim
in your shoes." a And certainly the truth is, that they are not
the highest instances that always afford the securest infor
mation ; as is not unaptly expressed in the tale so common
of the philosopher,b who, while he gazed upwards to the stars,
fell into the water. c For had he looked down, he might have
discovered the stars in the water ; but looking up to, heaven,
he could not see the water in the stars ; for mean and small
things often discover great ones, better than great can dis
cover the small ; and therefore Aristotle observes, *' That tht
nature of everything is best seen in its smallest portiona""1
Whence he seeks the nature of a commonwealth, first in a
family ; and so the nature of the world, and the policy
thereof must be nought in mean relations and small portion*.

• Plato, Hipp. Maj. iii. 291. • Thales ; see Plato, Theset. I U4,
e Laertius, " Liij of Thales." * Arist. Polit. L ar.d Phys. i
2 Q

82 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II.

The magnetic virtue of iron was not first discovered in bars,
but in needles.

But in my judgment the use of mechanical history is, of
all others, the most fundamental towards such a natural
philosophy as shall not vanish in the fume of subtile,
sublime, or pleasing speculations ; but be operative to the
endowment and benefit of human life ; as not only suggest
ing, for the present, many ingenious practices in all trades,
by connecting and transferring the observations of one art.
to the uses of another, when the experience of several arts
shall fall under the consideration of one man ; but as giving
a more true and real illumination with regard to causes and
axioms, than has hitherto appeared. For as a man's tempei
is never well known until he is crossed ; in like manner the
turns and changes of nature cannot appear so fully, when
she is left at her liberty, as in the trials and tortures of art.

We add, that the body of this experimental history should
not only be formed from the mechanic arts, but also from the
operative and effective part of the liberal sciences, together
with numerous practices, not hitherto brought into arts ; so
that nothing may be omitted which has a tendency to inform
the understanding.6

e And therefore the history of sophistications, or adulterations and
frauds practised in arts and trades, ought to be inserted, which the
learned Morhof adds as a fourth part of this experimental history,
though it may seem nufficiently included under the history of arts, as
being the secret part essential to every art, and properly called the
mystery or craft thereof. Of these impositions, a large number may be
readily collected, and serve not only to quicken the understanding and
enrich experimental history, but also to contribute to perfect the science
of economical prudence. For contraries illustrate each other, and to
know the sinister practices of an art gives light to the art itself, as well
as puts men upon their guard against being deceived. See M.orhof's
"Pdyhist." torn. ii. p. 128. Shew.

CHAP. II I. J USES OF NATURAL HISTORY. 63

CHAPTER III.

Second Division of Natural History, in relation to its Use and End, into
Narrative and Inductive. The most important end of Natural His
tory is to aid in erecting a Body of Philosophy which appertains to
Induction. Division of the History of Generations into the History
of the Heavens, the History of Meteors, the History of the Earth and
Sea, the History of Massive or Collective Bodies, and the History of
Species.

As natural history has three parts, so it has two principal
uses, and affords, — i. a knowledge of the things themselves
that are committed to history ; and 2. the first matter of
philosophy. But the former, though it has its advantages,
is of much more inferior consideration than the other, which
is a collection of materials for a just and solid induction,
whereon philosophy is to be grounded. And in this view,
we again divide natural history into narrative and inductive ;
the latter whereof is wanting. If the natural history extant,
though apparently of great bulk and variety, were to be
carefully weeded of its fables, antiquities, quotations, frivolous
disputes, philology, ornaments, and table-talk, it would shrink
to a slender bulk. But besides, a history of this kind is far
from what we require, as wanting the two above-mentioned
parts of a natural history, viz. praetergenerations and arts,
on which we lay g»"»at stress ; and only answers one part in
five of the third, viz. that of generations. For the history
of generations has five subordinate parts ; viz. 1. The celestial
bodies, considered in their naked phenomena, stripped of
opinions ; 2. Meteors, comets,8 and the regions of the air ;

3. The earth and sea, as integral parts of the universe,
including mountains, rivers, tides, sands, woods, and islands,
with a view to natural inquiries rather than cosmography ;

4. The elements, or greater assemblages of matter, as I call
them, — viz. fire, air, water, and earth ; and 5. The species of
bodies, or more exquisite collections of matter, by us called
the smaller assemblages, in which alone the industry of

Bacon, in the original, classes comets amo:ig meteors, yet fifteen
hundred years before, Seneca had placed them among planets, predicting
that the time would arrive when their seemingly erratic motions would
be found to be the result 01 the same laws. We need hardly remind tie
reader of the realization of this sage conjecture iq the magnificent dis
coveries of Sir Isaac Newton. Ed.

G2

84 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II.

writers has appeared, and that too rather in a luxurious than
solid manner ; as rather abounding in things superfluous,
viz. the representation of plants and animals, &c., than care
ful observations, which should ever be subjoined to natural
history. In fine, all the natural history we have is absolutely
unfit for the end we propose, viz. to build philosophy upon ;
and this both in the manner and matter thereof ; hence we
set down inductive history as deficient.

CHAPTER IV.

Civil History divided into Ecclesiastical and Literary. Deficiency of
the latter. The Absence of Precepts for its Compilation.

CIVIL history, in general, may be divided into three parti
cular kinds, viz. sacred, civil, and literary ; the latter whereof
being wanting, the history of the world appears like the
Ktatue of Polyphemus, without its eye ; the part that best
shows the life and spirit of the person. In many particular
sciences indeed, as the law, mathematics, and rhetoric, there
are extant some short memoirs, and jejune relations of
sects, schools, books, authors, and the successions of this kind
of sciences, as well as some trivial accounts of the inventors
of things and arts ; but we say, that a just and universal
literary history has not hitherto been published.

The design of this work should be, to relate from the
earliest accounts of time, — 1. what particular kincjs of learn-
ing and arts flourished, in what ages, and what parts of the
world ; 2. their antiquities, progress, and travels on the
globe ; 3. their decline, disappearance, and restoration. In
each art should be observed, 4. its origin and occasion of in
vention ; 5. the manner and form of its delivery ; and 6. the
means of its introduction, exercise, and establishment. Add
to these, 7. the most famous sects and controversies of learned
men ', 8. the calumnies they suffered, and the praises and
honours they received ; 9. all along let the best authors and
books be noted ; with 10. the schools, successions, academies,
societies, colleges, orders, and whatever regards the state of
•MMMiing : but 11. principally let events be throughout coupled
wiiii their causes (which is the soul, as it were, of civil history),
la plating the nature of countries and people, and 12. thei/

CHAP. IV.-V.] THE USE AND END OP THE WORK. 85

disposition and indisposition to different kinds of learning ;
13. the accidents of time, whether favourable or destructive
to the sciences ; 14. the zeal and mixture of religion ; 15. the
severity and lenity of laws ; 1 6. the remarkable patronage,
efforts, and endowments of illustrious men, for the promotion
of learning and the like. All which we would have handled,
not in the manner of critics, who barely praise and censure ;
but historically, or in the way of a naked delivery of facts,
with but a sparing use of private judgment.

For the manner of writing this history, we particularly
advise the materials of it to be drawn, not only from histories
and critical works, but also that the principal books of svery
century be regularly consulted downwards ; so far we mean,
as that a taste may be had, or a judgment formed, of the
subject, style, and method thereof; whence the literary
genius of every age may at pleasure be raised, as it were,
from the dead.

The use and end of this work is not to derive honour and
pomp to learning, nor to gratify an eager curiosity and fond
ness of knowing and preserving whatever may relate thereto ;
but chiefly to make learned men wise, in the prudent and
sober exercise and administration of learning, and by mark
ing out the virtues and vices of intellectual things, as well as
the motions and perturbations of states, to show how the
best regulation and government may be thence derived ; for
as the works of St. Austin or St. Ambrose will not make so
wise a divine as a thorough reading of Ecclesiastical History,
the same will hold true of learned men with regard to
particular books and literary history : for whoever is not
supported by examples and the remembrance of things, must
always be exposed to contingencies and precipitancy.

CHAPTER V.

The Dignity of Civil History and the Obstacles it has to encounter.
CIVIL history, particularly so called, is of prime dignity and
authority among human writings ; as the examples of anti
quity, the revolutions of things, the foundations of civil
prudence, with the names and reputations of men, are
committed to its trust. But it is attended with no iesa

36 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [LOOK II.

difficulty than dignity ; for it is a work of great labour and
judgment, to throw the mind back upon things past, and
snore it with antiquity ; diligently to search into, and with
fidelity and freedom relate, 1. the commotions of times ;
2. the characters of persons j 3. the instability of counsels ;
4. the courses of actions ; 5. the bottoms of pretences ;
6. the secrets of state ; and 7. to set all this to view in pro
per and suitable language : especially as ancient transactions
are uncertain, and late ones exposed to danger. Whence
such a civil history is attended with numerous defects ; the
greater part of historians writing little more than empty and
vulgar narrations, and such as are really a disgrace to history ;
while; some hastily draw up particular relations and trivial
memoirs, some only run over the general heads of actions ;
and others descend to the minutest particular, which have no
relation to the principal action. These, in compliance with
their genius, boldly invent many of the things they write ;
whilst those stamp the image of their own affections upon
what they deliver ; thus preserving fidelity to their party, but
not to things themselves. Some are constantly inculcating
politics, in which they take most pleasure, and seek all
occasions of exhibiting themselves, thus childishly interrupting
the thread of their history ; whilst others are too tedious,
and show but little judgment in the prolixity of their
speeches, harangues, and accounts of actions ; so that in
short, nothing is so seldom found amon the writings of meD
as tine and perfect civil history.

CHAPTER VI.

Division of Civil History into Memoirs, Antiquities, and Perfect

History.

THIS civil history is of three kinds, and bears resemblance
to three kinds of pictures ; viz., the unfinished, the finished,
and the defaced : thus civil history, which is the picture of
times and things, appears in memoirs, just history, and
antiquities ; but memoirs are history begun, or the first
strokes and materials of it } and antiquities are history
defaced, or remnants that have escaped the shipwreck of
time.

CHAP. VI.-VII.] VARIOUS KINDS OF CIVIL HISTORY. 87

Memoirs, or memorials, are of two kinds ; whereof the
one may be termed commentaries, the other registers. In
commentaries are set down naked events and actions in
sequence, without the motives, designs, counsels, speeches,
pretexts, occasions, &c. ; for such is the true nature of a com
mentary, though Caesar, in modesty mixed with greatness,
called the best history in the world a commentary.

Registers aie of two kinds ; as either containing the titles
of things and persons in order of time, by way of calendars
and chronicles, or else after the manner of journals, preserving
the edicts of princes, decrees of council, judicial proceedings,
declarations, letters of state, and public orations, "without
continuing the thread of the narration.

Antiquities are the wrecks of history, wherein the memory
of things is almost lost ; or such particulars as industrious
persons, with exact and scrupulous diligence, can any way
collect from genealogies, calendars, titles, inscriptions, monu
ments, coins, names, etymologies, proverbs, traditions,
archives, instruments, fragments of public and private
history, scattered passages of books no way historical, <fec. ;
by which means something is recovered from the deluge of
time. This is a laborious work ; yet acceptable to mankind,
as carrying with it a kind of reverential awe, and deserves
to come in the place of those fabulous and fictitious origins
of nations we abound with ; though it has the less authority,
as but few have examined and exercised a liberty of thought
about it.

In these kinds of imperfect history, no deficiency need be
noted, they being of their own nature imperfect : but
epitomes of history are the corruption and moths that have
fretted and corroded many sound and excellent bodies of
history, and reduced them to base and unprofitable dregs ;
whence all men of sound judgment declare the use of them
ought to be banished.

CHAPTER VII.

Division of History into Chronicles, Biographies, and Perfect Relations.
The Development of their parts.

JUST history is of three kinds, with regard to the three
objects it designs to represent ; which are either a portion

88 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK 1L

of time, a memo rable person, or an illustrious action. The
first kind we call writing annals or chronicles ; the second,
lives ; and the third, narratives or relations, Chronicles
share the greatest esteem and reputation, but lives excel in
advantage and use, as relations do in truth and sincerity.
For chronicles represent only grand public actions, and ex
ternal shows and appearances to the people, and drop the
smaller passages and motions of men and things. BD*/ us the
divine artificer hangs the greatest weight upon the smallest
strings, so such histories rather show the pomp of affairs,
than their true and inward springs. And though it in
tersperses counsel, yet delighting in grandeur, it attributes
more gravity and prudence to human actions, than really
appears in them ; so that satire might be a truer picture of
human life, than certain histories of this kind : whereas
lives, if wrote with care and judgment, proposing to repre
sent a person, in whom actions, both great and small, public
and private, are blended together, must of necessity give a
more genuine, native, and lively representation, and such as
is fitter for imitation.

Particular relations of actions, as of th« Feloponnesian
war, and the expedition of Cyrus, may likewise be made with
greater truth and exactness than histories of times ; as
their subject is more level to the inquiry and capacity of the
writer, whilst they who undertake the history of any large
portion of time must need meet with blanks and empty
spaces, which they generally fill up out of their own invention.
This exception, however, must be made to the sincerity of
relations, that, if they be wrote near the times of th° actions
themselves, they are, in that case, to be greatly suspected of
partiality or prejudice. But as it is usual for opposite parties
to publish relations of the same transactions, they, by this
means, open the way to truth, which lies betwixt the two
ixtremes : so that, after the heat of contention is allayed, a
£ood and wise historian may hence be furnished with matter
for a more perfect history.

As to the deficiencies in these three kinds of history,
doubtless many particular transactions have been left unre-
<v>rded, to the great prejudice, in point of honour and glory,
of those kingdoms and states wherein they passed. But to
omit other nations, we have particular reason to complaiu to

CHAP VII,] INTERESTING CHARACTER OF ENGLISH HISTORY. 89

your Majesty of the imperfection of the present history of
England, in the main continuance of it, and the partiality
and obliquity of that of Scotland, in the most copious and
recent account that has been left us. As this island of
Great Britain will now, as one united monarchy, descend to
future ages, we cannot but deem it a work alike honourable
to your Majesty, and grateful to posterity, that exploits were
collected in one history, in the style of the ancient Testa
ment, which hands down the story of the ten tribes and the
two tribes as twins together. If the greatness of the under
taking, however, should prove any obstacle to its perfect
execution, a shorter period of time, fraught with the greatest
interest, occurs from the junction of the roses to the union
of the two kingdoms — a space of time which to me appears
to contain a crowd of more memorable events than ever oc
curred in any hereditary monarchy of similar duration. For
it commences with the conjoint adoption of a crown by arms,
and title, an entry by battle, and a marriage settlement.
The times which follow, partaking of the nature of such
beginnings, like waters after a tempest, full of workings and
swellings, though without boisterous storms, being well navi
gated by the wisdom of the pilot,8 one of the most able ot
his predecessors. Then succeeded the reign of a king, whose
policy, though rather actuated by passion than counsel, exer
cised great influence upon the courts of Europe, balancing
and variably inclining their various interests ; in whose time,
also, began that great change of religion, an action seldom
brought on the stage. Then the reign of a minor. Then an
attempt at usurpation, though it was but as a " febris ephe
mera :" then the reign of a queen, matched with a foreigner :
then the reign of a queen, solitary and unmarried. And
now, as a close, the glorious and auspicious event of the
union of an island, divided from the rest of the world : so
that we may say the old oracle which gave rest to ^Eneas,
'' antiquam exquirite matrem,"b is fulfilled in the union of
England and Scotland under one sceptre. Thus as massive
bodies, drawn aside from their course, experience certain
waverings and trepidations before they fix and settle, so this
monarchy, before it was to settle in your Majesty and you/

• Henry V14. fc &n. iii. 9«.

90 ADVANCEMENT OK LEARNING. [BOOK IL

hell's, in whom I hope it is established for ever, seems by the
providence of God to have undergone these mutations and
deflections as a prelude to stability.

With regard to lives, we cannot but wonder that our own
times have so little value for what they enjoy, as not more
frequently to write the lives of eminent men. For though
kings, princes, and great personages are few, yet there are
many other excellent men who deserve better than vague
reports and barren elogies. Here the fancy of a late poet,
who has improved an ancient fiction, is not inapplicable.
He feigns that at the end of the thread of every man's life,
there hung a medal, on which the name of the deceased is
stamped ; and that Time, waiting upon the shears of the fatal
sister, as soon as the thread was cut, caught the medals,
and threw them out of his bosom into the river Lethe. He
also represented many birds flying over its banks, who
caught the medals in their beaks, and after carrying them
about for a certain time, allowed them to fall in the river.
Among these birds were a few swans, who used, if they caught
a medal, to carry it to a certain temple consecrated to im
mortality. Such swans, however, are rare in our age. And
although many, more mortal in their affections than their
bodies, esteem the desire of fame and memoiy but a vanity,
and despise praise, whilst they do nothing that is praise
worthy, — " animos nil maguse laudis egentes ;"c yet their phi
losophy springs from the root, " non prius laudes contera-
psimus quam laudanda facere desivimus ; " and does not
alter Solomon's judgment, — " the memory of the just shall be
with praises ; but the name of the wicked shall rot ; "d the"
one flourishing, whilst the other consumes or turns to cor
ruption. So in that laudable way of speaking of the dead,
" of happy memory ! of pious memory ! " &c., we seem to
acknowledge, with Cicero and Demosthenes, " that a good
name is the proper inheritance of the deceased ;"e which in
heritance is lying waste in our time, and deserves to be
noticed as a deficiency.

In the business of relations it is, also, to be wished that
greater diligence were employed ; for there is no signal
Action, but has some good pen to iescribe it. But very few

« jEu, *, 751. d Prov. x. 7. ' Demosth. adv. Lept. 488.

CHAP. VIII.] HISTORY OF TIMES. 01

being qualified to write a complete history, suitable to its dig
nity (a thing wherein so many have failed), if memorable acts
were but tolerably related as they pass, this might lay the
foundations, and afford materials for a complete history of
times, when a writer should arise equal to the work.

CHAPTER VIII.

Division of the History of Times into Universal and Particular. The
Advantages and Disadvantages of both.

HISTORY of times is either general or particular, as it re
lates the transactions of the whole world, or of a certain
kingdom or nation. And there have been those who would
seem to give us the history of the world from its origin ;
but, in reality, offer only a rude collection of things, and
certain short narratives instead of a history ; whilst others
have nobly, and to good advantage, endeavoured to describe,
as in a just history, the memorable things, which in their
time happened over all the globe. For human affairs are
not so far divided by empires and countries, but that in
many cases they still preserve a connection : whence it is
proper enough to view, as in one picture, the fates of an age.
And such a general history as this may frequently contain
particular relations, which, though of value, might otherwise
either be lost, or never again reprinted : at least, the heads
of such accounts may be thus preserved. But upon mature
consideration, the laws of just history appear so severe as
scarcely to be observed in so large a field of matter, whence
the bulkiness of history should rather be retrenched than
enlarged ; otherwise, he who has such variety of matter
everywhere to collect, if he preserve not constantly the
strictest watch upon his informations, will be apt to take up
with rumours and popular reports, and work such kind of
superficial matter into his history. And, then, to retrench
the whole, he will be obliged to pass over many things other
wise worthy of relation, and often to contract and shorten
his style ; wherein there lies no small danger of frequently
cutting off useful narrations, in order to oblige mankind in
their favourite way of compendium ; whence such accounts,
which might otherwise live of themselves, may come to be
utterly lost.

92 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK

CHAPTER IX.

Second Division of the History of Times into Annuls and Journals.

HISTORY of times is likewise divisible into annals and
journals, according to the observation of Tacitus, where,
mentioning the magnificence of certain structures, he adds,
" It was found suitable to the Roman dignity that illustrious
things should be committed to annals, but such as these to
the public journals of the city;"8 thus referring what related
to the state of the commonwealth to annals, and smaller
matters to journals. And so there should be a kind of
heraldry in regulating the dignities of books as well as per
sons : for as nothing takes more from the dignity of a state
than confusion of orders and degrees, so it greatly takes from
the authority of history to intermix matters of triumph,
ceremony, and novelty, with matters of state. And it were
to be wished that this distinction prevailed ; but in our
times journals are only used at sea and in military expedi
tions, whereas among the ancients it was a regal honour to
have the daily acts of the palace recorded, as we see in the
case of Ahasuerus, king of Persia. b And the journals of
Alexander the Great contained even trivial matters;6 yet
journals are not destined for trivial things alone, as annala
are for serious ones, but contain all things promiscuously,
whether of greater or of less concern.

CHAPTER X.

Second Division of Special Civil History into Pure and Mixed.
THE last division of civil history is into pure and mixed.
Of the mixed there are two eminent kinds, — the one princi
pally civil, and the other principally natural : for a kind of
writing has been introduced that does not give particular
narrations in the continued thread of a history, but where
the writer collects and culls them, with choice, out of an
author, then reviewing and as it were ruminating upon
them, takes occasion to treat of political subjects; and tliis

• Annals, xiii. 81. b Esther vi. 1.

c Plutarch's Symposium, i. qu. 6 ; and Alex. Life, xxiii. 70.

CHAP. X.] PROSPECT OF ADVANCKMENT IN SCIENCE. 93

kind of ruminated history we highly esteem, provided the
writers keep close to it professedly, for it is both unseason
able and irksome to have an author profess he will write a
proper history, yet at every turn introduce politics, and
ihereby break the thread of his narration. All wise his
tory is indeed pregnant with political rules and precepts,
6ut the writer is not to take all opportunities of delivering
himself of them.

Cosmographical history is also mixed many ways, — as
taking the descriptions of countries, their situations and
fruits, from natural history; the accounts of cities, govern
ments, and manners, from civil history; the climates and
astronomical phenomena, from mathematics : in which kind
of history the present age seems to excel, as having a full
view of the world in this light. The ancients had some
knowledge of the zones and antipodes, —

" Nosque ubi primus equis oriens afflavit anhelia,
Illic sera rubens accendit lumina vesper,"' —

though rather by abstract demonstration than fact. But
that little vessels, like the celestial bodies, should sail round
the whole globe, is the happiness of our age. These times,
moreover, may justly use not only plus ultra, where the
ancients used non plus ultra, but also iinitabile fulmen where
the ancients said non imitabile fulmen, —

" Demens qui nimbos et non imitabile fulmen."*

This improvement of navigation may give us great hopes,
of extending and improving the sciences, especially ae
it seems agreeable to the Divine will that they should be
coeval. Thus the prophet Daniel foretells, that " Many
shall go to and fro on the earth, and knowledge shall be in
creased," c as if the openness and thorough passage of the
world and the increase of knowledge were allotted to the
same age, which indeed we find already true in part : for the
learning of these times scarce yields to the former periods or
returns of learning, — the one among the Greeks and the
other among the Humans, and in many particulars far ex
ceeds them.

» Virgil, Georgics, i. 251. b Virgil, ^Enoid, vi. 590.

c Dan. «ii. 4.

94 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IL

CHAPTER XI.

Ecclesiastical History divided into the General History of the Church,
History of Prophecy, and History of Providence.

ECCLESIASTICAL history in general has nearly the same
divisions with civil history: thus there are ecclesiastical
chronicles, lives of the fathers, accounts of synods, and other
ecclesiastical matters; but in propriety it may be farther
divided, — 1. Into the general history of the Church; 2. The
history of prophecy ; and, 3. The history of providence. The
first describes the times of the Church militant, whether
fluctuating, as the ark of Noah ; moveable, as the ark in the
wilderness : or at rest, as the ark in the temple ; that is, in
the states of persecution, migration, and peace. And in this
part there is a redundancy rather than a deficiency, but it
were to be wished the goodness and sincerity of it were
equal to the bulk.

The second part, viz. the history of prophecy, consists
cf two relatives, — the prophecy and the accomplishment;
whence the nature of it requires, that every Scripture pro
phecy be compared with the event, through all the ages of
the world, for the better confirmation of the faith and the
better information of the Church with regard to the inter
pretation of prophecies not yet fulfilled. But here w~ must
allow that latitude which is peculiar and familiar to divine
prophecies, which have their completion not only at stated
times, but in succession, as participating of the nature of
their author, " with whom a thousand years are but as one
day," a and therefore are not fulfilled punctually at once, but
have a growing accomplishment through many ages, though
the height or fulness of them may refer to a single age or
moment. And this is a work which I find deficient ; but it
should either be undertaken with wisdom, sobriety, and
reverence, or not at all.

The third part, — the history of providence, has been touched
by some pious pens, but not without a mixture of party.
This history is employed in observing that Divine agreement
which there sometimes is betwixt the revealed and secret
will of Goi. For although the counsels and judgments of

• Paahn Ixx*^. 4.

CHAP. XII.] APPENDIX TO HISTORY. 95

God are so secret as to be absolutely unsearchable to man,*
yet the Divine goodness has sometimes thought fit, for the
confirmation of his own people, and the confutation of those
who are as without God in the world, to write them in such
capital letters, as they who run may read them.c Such are
the remarkable events and examples of God's judgments,
though late and unexpected, sudden and unhoped for delive
rances and blessings, Divine counsels dark and doubtful at
length opening and explaining themselves, &c. All which
have not only a power to confirm the minds of the faithful,
but to awaken and convince the conscience? oi the wicked.

CHAPTER XII.

The Appendix of History embraces the Words of Men, as the Body of
History includes their Exploits. Its Division into Speeches, Letters,
and Apophthegms.

AND not only the actions of mankind, but also their say
ings, ought to be preserved, and may doubtless be sometimes
inserted in history, so far as they decently serve to illustrate
the narration of facts; but books of orations, epistles, and
apophthegms, are the proper repositories of human discourse.
The speeches of wise men upon matter of business, weighty
causes, or difficult points, are of great use, not only for elo
quence, but for the knowledge of things themselves. But
the letters of wise men upon serious affairs are yet more
serviceable in points of civil prudence, as of all human speech
nothing is more solid or excellent than such epistles, for
they contain more of natural sense than orations, and more
ripeness than occasional discourses : so letters of state affairs,
written in the order of time by those that manage them,
with their answers, afford the best materials for civil
history.

Nor do apophthegms only serve for ornament and delight,
but also for action and civil use, as being the edge-tools of
speech, —

" Secures aut mucrones verborura,"*
which cut and penetrate the knots of business and affairs /

k 1 Cor. ii. e Epis. to the Ephesians ii. ;md Habak. ii,

• CiceroTo Epis. Fam. ix.

96 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK II

for occasions have their revolutions, and what has once been
advantageously used may be so again, either as an old thing
or a new one. Nor can the usefulness of these sayings in
civil affairs be questioned, when Caesar himself wrote a book
upon the subject, which we wish were extant ; foi all those
we have yet seen of the kind appear to be collected with
little choice and judgment.

CHAPTER XIII.

The Second leading Branch of Learning — Poetry. Its Division into
Narrative, Dramatic, and Parabolic. Three Examples of the latter
species detailed.

POETRY is a kind of learning generally confined to the
measure of words, but otherwise extremely licentious, and
truly belonging to the imagination, which, being unrestrained
by laws, may make what unnatural mixtures and separations
it pleases. It is taken in two senses, or with respect to
words and matter. The first is but a character of style and
a certain form of speech not relating to the subject, for a
true narration may be delivered in verse and a feigned one
in prose ; but the second is a capital part of learning, and no
other than feigned history. And here, as in our divisions,
we endeavour to find and trace the tine sources of learning,
and this frequently without giving way to custom or tho
established order, — we shall take no particular notice of
satire, elegy, epigram, ode, &c., but turn them over to philo
sophy and the arts of speech, and under the name of poetry
treat nothing more than imaginary history.

The justest division of poetry, except what it shares in
common with history (which has its feigned chronicles,
feigned lives, and feigned relations), is, — 1. Into narrative ;
2. Dramatic; and, 3. Allegorical. Narrative poetry is such
an exact imitation of history as to deceive, did it not often
carry things beyond probability. Dramatic poetry is a kind
of visible history, giving the images of things as if they were
present, whilst history represents them as pasfc. But allego
rical poetry is history with its type, which represents intel
lectual things to the senses.

Narrative poetry, otherwise called heroic poetry, seema,

CttAfr. tM.] THE MERITS 01? J>O£TRY. 97

with regard to its matter, not the versification, raised upon,
a noble foundation, as having a principal regard to the dig
nity of human nature. For as the active world is inferior
to the rational soul, so poetry gives that to mankind which
history denies, and in some measure satisfies the mind with
shadows when it cannot enjoy the substance. For, upon a
narrow inspection, poetry strongly shows that a greater
grandeur of things, a more perfect order, and a more beauti
ful variety is pleasing to the mind than can anywhere be
found in nature after the fall. So that, as the actions and
events, which are the subjects of true history, have not thai
grandeur which satisfies the mind, poetry steps in and feigns
more heroical actions. And as real history gives us not the
success of things according to the deserts of virtue and vice,
poetry corrects it, and presents us with the fates and for
tunes of persons rewarded or punished according to merit.
And as real history disgusts us with a familiar and constant
similitude of things, poetry relieves us by unexpected turns
and changes, and thus not only delights, but inculcates
morality and nobleness of soul. Whence it may be justly
esteemed of a Divine nature, as it raises the mind, by accom
modating the images of things to our desires, and not, like
history and reason, subjecting the mind to things. And by
these its charms, and congruity to the mind, with the assist
ance also of music, which conveys it the sweeter, it makes its
own way, so as to have been in high esteem in the most
ignorant ages, arid among the most barbarous people, whilst
other kinds of learning were utterly excluded.

Dramatic poetry, which has the theatre for its world,
would be of excellent use if it were sound ; for the discipline
and corruption of the theatre is of very great consequence.
And the corruptions of this kind are numerous in our times,
but the regulation quite neglected. The action of the theatre,
though modern states esteem it but ludicrous, unless it be
satirical and biting, was carefully watched by the ancients,
that it might improve mankind in virtue : and indeed many
wise men and great philosophers have thought it to the
mind as the bow to the fiddle ; and certain it is, though a
great secret in nature, that the minds of men in company
are more open to affections and impressions than when alone.

But allegorical poetry excels the others, and appears a
2 u

98 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [DOOR. II.

solemn sacred thing, which religion itself generally makes
use of, to preserve an intercourse between divine and human
things ; yet this, also, is corrupted by a levity and indulgence
of genius towards allegory. Its use is ambiguous, and made
to serve contrary purposes ; for it envelops as well as illus
trates, — the first seeming to endeavour at an art of conceal
ment, and the other at a method of instructing, much used
by the ancients. For when the discoveries and conclusions
of reason, though now common, were new, and first known,
the human capacity could scarce admit them in their subtile
state, or till they were brought nearer to sense, by such kind
of imagery and examples ; whence ancient times are full of
their fables, their allegories, and their similes. From this
source arise the symbol of Pythagoras, the enigmas of
Sphinx, and the fables of ^Esop. Nay, the apophthegms of
the ancient sages were usually demonstrated by similitudes.
And as hieroglyphics preceded letters, so parables preceded
arguments ; and the force of parables ever was and will bo
great, as being clearer than arguments, and more apposite
than real examples.

The other use of allegorical poetry is to envelop things,
whose dignity deserves a veil ; as when the secrets and
mysteries of religion, policy, and philosophy, are wrapped up
in fables and parables. But though some may doubt whether
there be any mystical sense concealed in the ancient fables
of the poets, we cannot but think there is a latent mystery
intended in some of them : for we do not, therefore, judge
contemptibly of them, because they are commonly left to
children and grammarians ; but as the writings that relate
these fables are, next to the sacred ones, the most ancient,
and the fables themselves much older still, being not deli
vered as the inventions of the writers, but as things before
believed and received, they appear like a soft whisper from
the traditions of more ancient nations, conveyed through the
flutes of the Grecians. But all hitherto attempted towards
the interpretation of these parables proving unsatisfactory to
us, as having proceeded from men of but common-placa
learning, we set down the philosophy of ancient fables as the
only deficiency in poetry. But lest any person should ima
gine that any of these deficiencies are rather notional than
teal, and that we, like augurs, only measure countr^ in

CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF PAN INTERPRETER 99

our mind, and know not how to invade them, we will pro
ceed to subjoin examples of the work we recommend. These
shall be three in number, — one taken from natural philo
sophy, one from politics, and another from morals.

PAN, OR NATURE.

Explained of Natural Philosophy.

" THE ancients have, with great exactness, delineated
universal nature under the person of Pan. They leav^ bis
origin doubtful : some asserting him the son of Mercury, and
others the common offspring of all Penelope's suitors. The
latter supposition doubtless occasioned some later writers to
entitle this ancient fable, Penelope — a thing frequently prac
tised when the early relations are applied to more modf rn
characters and persons, though sometimes with great absur
dity and ignorance, as in the present case : for Pan was one
of the ancientest gods, and long before the time of Ulysses :
besides, Penelope was venerated by antiquity for her matronal
chastity. A third sort will have him the issue of Jupiter
and Hybris, that is, Reproach. But whatever his origin was,
the Destinies are allowed his sisters.

" He is described by antiquity with pyramidal horns
reaching up to heaven, a rough and shaggy body, a very long
beard, of a Inform figure, human above, half-brute below,
ending in goat's feet. His arms, or ensigns of power, are a
pipe in his left hand, composed of seven reeds ; in his right
a crook ; and he wore for his mantle a leopard's skin.

" His attributes and titles were, the god of hunters, shep
herds, and all the rural inhabitants ; president of the moun
tains, and after Mercury the next messenger of the gods.
He was also held the leader and ruler of the Nymphs, who
continually danced and frisked about him, attended with the
Satyrs, and their elders the Sileni. He had also the power
of striking terrors, especially such as were vain and super
stitious ; whence they came to be called panic terrors. b

" Few actions are recorded of him ; only a principal one is,
that he challenged Cupid at wrestling, and was worsted.
He also catched the giant Typhon in a net, and held him
fast. They relate farther of him, that when Ceres growing

• Hymn to Pan, Horn. Odyss. ver. fin, b Cicero, Epia. to Atticus, C.

100 ADVANCEMENT OP LEAtWIHG, [BOOK tl.

disconsolate for the rape of Proserpine, liid herself, and all
the gods took the utmost pains to find her, by going out
different ways for that purpose, Pan only had the good
fortune to meet her as he was hunting, and discovered her
to the rest. He likewise had the assurance to rival Apollo
in music; and in the judgment of Midas was preferred: but
the judge had, though with great privacy and secrecy, a pair
of ass's ears fastened on him for his sentence.0

" There is very little said of his amours, which may seem
strange among such a multitude of gods, so profusely amo
rous. He is only reported to have been very fond of Echo,
who was also esteemed his wife ; and one nymph more called
Syrinx, with the love of whom Cupid inflamed him for his
insolent challenge ; so he is reported, once, to have solicited
the moon to accompany him apart into the deep woods.

" Lastly, Pan had no descendant, which also is a wonder,
when the male gods were so extremely prolific ; only he
was the reputed father of a servant girl, called lambe, who
used to divert strangers with her ridiculous and prattling
stories."

This fable is, perhaps, the noblest of all antiquity, and
pregnant with the mysteries and secrets of nature. Pan, as
the name imports, represents the universe, about whose
origin there are two opinions ; viz., that it either sprung
from Mercury, that is, the Divine Word, according to the
Scriptures and philosophical divines ; or from the confused
seeds of things. For some of the philosophers'1 held that the
Reeds and elements of nature were infinite in their substance ;
whence arose the opinion of homogeneous primary parts,
which Anaxagoras either invented or propagated. Others
more accurately maintain that the variety of nature can
equally spring from seeds, certain and definite in substance,
but only diversified in form and figure, and attribute the
v«maining varieties to the interior organization of the seeds
ttnt»Mi«eives. From this source the doctrine of atoms is de
rived, which Democritus maintained, and Leucippus found
out. But others teach only one principle of nature — Thales,
water; Anaximenes, air; Heraclitus, hree — and defined tliis

c Ovid, Metamorphoses, ii. d Anaxagoras, in Diog. Laert.

e This difference between the three philosophies is nothing else, aa
a has observed ^De Di»;ta, lib. i.), than a mere dispute about

CHAP. XIII.l THE FABLE OF PAN INTERPRETED. 101

principle, which is one in act, to be various and dispensable
in powers, and involving the seeds of all natural essences.
They who introduced, — as Aristotle and Plato,1' — primordial
matter, every way disarranged, shapeless, and indifferent to
any form, approached nearer to a resemblance of the figure
of the parable. Foi they conceived matter as a courtezan,
and the forms as suitors; so that the whole dispute comes to
these two points : viz., either that nature proceeds from
Mercury, or from Penelope and all her suitors.?

The third origin of Pan seems borrowed by the Greeks
from the Hebrew mysteries, either by means of the Egyp«
t.ians, oi' otherwise ; for it relates to the stato of the world,
not in its first creation, but as made subject to death
and corruption after the fall : and in this state it was
and remains the offspring of God and Sin, or Jupiter and
Reproach. And, therefore, these three several accounts of
Pan's birth may seem true, if duly distinguished in respect
of things and times. For this Pan, or the universal nature
of things, which we view and contemplate, had its origin
from the divine word, and contused matter, first created
by God himself, with the subsequent introduction of sin, ai'.l
consequently corruption.

The Destinies arc justlv made Pan's sisters ; for the rise,
preservation, and dissolution of things ; their depressions,
exaltations, processes, triumphs, and whatever else can bo
ascribed to individual natures, are called fates and destinies,
but generally pass unnoticed, except indeed in striking
examples, as in men, cities, and nations. Pan, or the nature
of things, is the o*use of these several changes and effects,
and in regard to individuals as the chain of natural
causes, and the thread of the Destinies, links them together.
The ancients likewise feigned that Pan ever lived in the

words For if there be but one single clement or substance identical in
ill its parts, as the primary mover of things, it follows, as this sub-
stance is equally indifferent to the forms of each of the three elements,
that one name may attach to it quite as philosophically as the other.
In strict language, such a substance could not be defined by any of
these terms; as fire, air, or water, appear only as its accidental qualities,
and it is not allowable to define anything whose essential properties
remain undiscovered. Ed. f Plato's Timieus.

£ Bacon directs his interpretation here to tU<? coni'ised Riixtuiv of
things, as sung by Virgil, Kcl. vi, 31.

102 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK H,

open air ; but the Parcw of the Destinies in a large sub
terraneous cave, from which they emerged with inconceivable
swiftness, to operate on mankind, because the common face of
the universe is open ; but the individual fates, dark, swift, and
sudden. The analogy will also correspond if fate be enlarged
above its ordinary acceptation as applicable to inanimate
nature. Since, also, in that order nothing passes without a
cause, and nothing is so absolutely great as to be indepen
dent, nature holding in her lap and bosom every event either
small or great, and disclosing them in due season, it is,
therefore, no marvel that the Parcse are introduced as the
sisters of Pan : for Fortune is the daughter of the foolish
vulgar, and finds favour only with the more unsound philo
sophers. And the words of Epicurus savour less of dotage
than profanity — " Prsestare credere fabulam Deorum quam
fatum asserere'1 — as if anything in the frame of nature could,
like an island, stand apart from the rest. But Epicurus
framed his natural philosophy on his moral, and would heat
of no opinion which might press or sting his conscience, or
in any way trouble that euthymia or tranquillity of mind
which he had received from Democritus. Hence, being
more indulgent to his own fancies than patient of truth, he
fairly cast off the yoke, and abandoned as well the necessity
of fate as the fear of the gods.

Horns are given him broad at the roots, but narrow and
sharp a-top, because the nature of all things seems pyra
midal : for individuals are infinite ; but being collected into
a variety of species, they rise up into kinds ; and these again
ascend, and are contracted into generals, till at length nature
may seem collected to a point, which is signified by the
pyramidal figure of Pan's horns. And no wonder if Pan's
horns reach to the heavens, since the sublimities of nature,
or abstract ideas, reach in a manner to things divine. Thus
Homer's famous chain of natural causes is tied to the foot of
Jupiter's chain j1 and indeed no one can treat of metaphysics,
or of the internal and immutable in nature, without rushing
at once into natural theology.

Pan's body, or the body of nature, is, with great propriety
and elegance, painted shaggy and hairy, as representing the

* Seneca's Epistle* ' Iliad, ix.

CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF PAN INTERPRETED. 103

rays of things : for rays are as the hair or fleece of nature,
and more or less worn by all bodies. This evidently appears
in vision, and in all effects or operations at a distance : for
whatever operates thus may be properly said to emit rays.k
But particularly the beard of Pan is exceeding long, because
the rays of the celestial bodies penetrate, and act to a pro
digious distance, and have descended into the interior of the
earth so far as to change its surface j1 and the sun himself,
when clouded on its upper part, appears to the eye bearded.

Again, the body of nature is justly described biform, be
cause of the difference between its superior and inferior
parts : as the former, for their beauty, regularity of motion,
and influence over the earth, may be properly represented by
the human figure, and the latter, because of their disorder,
irregularity, and subjection to the celestial bodies, are by the
brutal. This biform figure also represents the participation
of one species with another, for there appear to be no simple
natures, but all participate or consist of two : thus man has
somewhat of the brute, the brute somewhat of the plant, the
plant somewhat of the mineral ; so that all natural bodies
have really two faces, or consist of a superior and an inferior
species.

There lies a curious allegory in the making of Pan goat'
footed, on account of the motion of ascent, which the terres*
trial bodies have towards the air and heavens : for the goat
is a clambering creature, that delights in climbing up rocks
and precipices ; and in the same manner the matters des
tined to this lower globe strongly affect to rise upwards, as
appears from the clouds and meteors. And it was not with
out reason that Gilbert, who has written a painful and
elaborate work upon the magnet, doubted whether ponderous
bodies, after being separated a long distance from the earth,
do not lose their gravitating tendency towards it.

k This is always supposed to be the case in vision, the mathematical
demonstrations in optics proceeding invariably upon the assumption of
this phenomenon. Ed.

1 Bacon had no idea of a central fire, and how much it has contri
buted to work these interior revolutions. The thermometer of Drebbel,
<vhich he describes in the second part of the Novum Organum, has
shown that down to a certain depth beneath the earth's surface the tem
perature (in all climates) undergoes no change, and beyond that limit,
that the beat augments in proportion to the descent. Ld.

104 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IL

Pan's arms, or the ensigns lie bears in his hands, are of
two kinds ; the one an emblem of harmony, the other, of
empire. His pipe, composed of seven reeds, plainly denotes
the consent and harmony, or the concords and discords of
things, produced by the motion of the seven planets. If
*.here be other planets yet concealed, or any greater muta
tions in the heavens, as in superlunary comets, they seem
like pipes either altogether united or silent for a time, because
their influence either does not reach so low as us, or leaves
uninterrupted the harmony of the seven pipes of Pan. His
crook also contains a fine representation of the ways of
nature, which are partly straight and partly crooked : thus the
staff, having an extraordinary bend towards the top, denotes
that the works of Divine Providence arc generally brought
about by remote means, or in a circuit, as if somewhat else
were intended, rather than the effect produced ; as in the
sending of Joseph into Egypt. So, likewise, in human
government, they who sit at the helm manage and wind the
] >eople more successfully by pretext and oblique courses than
they could by such as are direct and straight ; so that in effect
all sceptres are crooked on the top. Nay, in things strictly
natural you may sooner deceive nature than force her, so
improper and self-convicting are open direct endeavours,
whereas an oblique and insinuating way gently glides along,
and secretly accomplishes the purpose.

Pan's mantle, or clothing, is with great ingenuity made of
a leopard's skin, because of the spots it has : for, in like
manner, the heavens are sprinkled with stars, the sea with
islands, the earth with flowers, and almost each particular
thing is variegated, or wears a mottled coat.

The office of Pan could not be more livelily expressed
than by making him the god of hunters : for every natural
action, every motion and process, is no other than a chase ;
thus arts and sciences hunt out their works, and human
schemes and counsels their several ends, and all living crea
tures either hunt out their . aliment, pursue their prey, or
seek their pleasures, and this in a skilful arid sagacious man
ner."1 He is also styled the god of the rural inhabitant^

•» " Torva leaena lupum sequitur, lupus ipse capellam :
Flureattiu cytisum sequitur lasciva capella."

Virgil, Eel, ii, 63,

CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF PAN INTERPRETED, 105

because men in this situation live more according to nature
than they do in cities and courts, where nature is so corrupted
with effeminate arts, that the saying of the poet may be
verified : —

" pars minima est ipsa puella sui."B

He is likewise particularly styled president of the moun
tains, because in mountains and lofty places the nature of
things lies more open and exposed to the eye and the under
standing.

ID his being called the messenger of the gods, next after
Mercury, lies a divine allegory ; as, next after the word of
God, the image of the world is the herald of the divine
power and wisdom, according to the expression of the
Psalmist : " The heavens declare the glory of God, and the
firmament showeth his handy-work."0

Pan is delighted with the company of the Nymphs : that
is, the souls of all living creatures are the delight of the
world, and he is properly called their governor, because each of
them follows its own nature as a leader, and all dance about
their own respective rings with infinite variety and never-
ceasing motion. Hence one of the moderns has ingeniously
reduced all the power of the soul to motion, noting the pre
cipitancy of some of the ancients, who, fixing their thoughts
prematurely on memory, imagination, and reason, have
neglected the cogitative faculty, which, however, plays the
chief role in the work of conception. For he that remembers,
cogitates, as likewise he who fancies or reasons ; so that the
soul of man in all her moods dances to the musical airs of the
cogitations, which is that rebounding of the Nymphs. And
with these continually join the Satyrs and Sileui, that is,
youth and age ; for all things have a kind of young, cheerful,
and dancing time ; and again their time of slowness, totter
ing, and creeping. And whoever, in a true light, considers
the motions and endeavours of both these ages, like another
Democritus, will perhaps find them as odd and strange as
the gesticulations and antic motions of the Satyrs and
Sileni.

The power he had of striking terrors contains a very sen-
lible doctrine, for nature has implanted fear in all living

n Ovid, Rem. Araoris, v. 343. Mart. Epist. • Psalm xix. 1.

106 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAKNING. [BOOK II

creatures, as well to keep them from risking their lives aa to
guard against injuries and violence ; and yet this nature or
passion koeps not its bounds, but with just and profitable
fears always mixes such as are vain and senseless : so that all
things, if we could see their insides, would appear full of
panic terrors. Nor is this superstition confined to the vulgar,
but sometimes breaks out in wise men. As Epicurus, " Non
Deos vulgi negare profanum ; sed vulgi opiniones Diis
applicare profanum. " P

The presumption of Pan in challenging Cupid to the con
flict, denotes that matter has an appetite and tendency to a
dissolution of the world, and falling back to its first chaos
again, unless this depravity and inclination were restrained
and subdued by a more powerful concord and agreement of
things, properly expressed by love or Cupid ; it is therefore
well for mankind, and the state of all things, that Pan was
thrown and conquered in the struggle.

His catching and detaining Typhon in the net receives a
similar explanation ; for whatever vast and unusur»l swells,
which the word Typhon signifies, may sometimes be raised
in nature, as in the sea, the clouds, the earth, or the like ;
yet nature catches, entangles, and holds all such outrages and
insurrections in her inextricable net, wove as it were of
adamant.

That part of the fable which attributes the discovery of
lost Ceres to Pan, whilst he was hunting, a happiness denied
the other gods, though they diligently and expressly sought
her, contains an exceeding just and prudent admonition ; viz.
that we are not to expect the discovery of things useful in
common life, as that of corn, denoted by Ceres, from abstract
philosophies, as if these were the gods of the first order, — no,
not though we used our utmost endeavours this way, — but
only from Pan, that is, a sagacious experience and general
knowledge of nature, which is often found, even by accident,
to stumble upon such discoveries, whilst the pursuit was
directed another way.

The event of his contending with Apollo in music, affords
us an useful instruction, that may help to humble the human
reason and judgment, which is too apt to boast and glory in
itself. There seem to be two kinds of harmony ; the one of
Divine Providence, the other of human reason : but the
* Laertius'a Life of Epicurus.

CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF PAN INTERPRETED. 107

government of the world, the administration of its affairs,
and the more secret divine judgments, sound harsh and
dissonant to human ears or human judgment ; and though
this ignorance be justly rewarded with ass's ears, yet they
are put on and worn, not openly, but with great secrecy ;
nor is the deformity of the thing seen or observed by the
vulgar.

We must not find it strange if no amours are related of
Pan, besides his marriage with Echo ; for nature enjoys
itself, and in itself all other things : he that loves, desires
enjoyment ; but in profusion there is no room for desire ;
and therefore Pan, remaining content with himself, had no
passion, unless it be for discourse, which is well shadowed out
by Echo, or talk ; or when it is more accurate, by Syrinx, or
writing.^ But Echo makes a most excellent wife for Pan,
as being no other than genuine philosophy, which faithfully
repeats his words, or only transcribes exactly as nature dic
tates ; thus representing the true image and reflection of the
world, without adding a tittle. The calling the moon aside
into a deeply embrowned wood, seems to refer to the conven
tion between the sense and spiritual things. For the ear ot
Endymion and Pan are different, the moon of her own
accord in the latter case stooping down from her sphere as
Endymion lay asleep, intimating that divine illuminations oft
glide gently into the understanding, cast asleep and withdrawn
from the senses. But if they be called by sense, representing
Pan, they afford no other light than that

" Quale, per incertam lunam, sub luce malignfi,
Est iter in sylvis."*

It tends also to the support and perfection of Pan or
nature, to be without offspring ; for the world generates in its
parts, and not in the way of a whole, as wanting a body ex
ternal to itself wherewith to generate.

lastly, for the supposed or spurious prattling daughter of
Fan, it is an excellent addition to the fable, and aptly re
presents the talkative philosophies that have at all times
been stirring, and filled the world with idle tales ; being
ever barren, empty, and servile, though sometimes indeed
diverting and entertaining, and sometimes again troublesome
und importunate.

* Syrinx signifying a reed, or the ancient pea. r ^Eneid, vi. 270.

108 ADVA*'CEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK U.

PERSEUS," OR WAR.

Explained of the Preparation and Conduct necessary to War.

"THE fable relates, that Perseus was despatched from the
east by Pallas, to cut off Medusa's head, who had committed
great ravage upon the people of the west ; for this Medusa
was so dire a monster, as to turn into stone all those who but
/ooked upon her. She was a Gorgon, and the only mortal one of
the three ; the other two being invulnerable. Perseus, there
fore, preparing himself for this grand enterprise, had presents
made him from three of the gods : Mercury gave him wings
for his heels ; Pluto, a helmet ; and Pallas, a shield and a
mirror. But though he was now so well equipped, he posted
not directly to Medusa, but first turned aside to the Greaj,
who were half-sisters to the Gorgons. These Grea) were gray-
headed, and like old women from their birth, having among
them all three but one eye, and one tooth, which, as they had
occasion to go out, they each wore by turns, and laid them
down again upon coming back. This eye and this tooth they
lent to Perseus, who, now judging himself sufficiently fur
nished, he, without farther stop, flies swiftly away to Medusa,
and finds her asleep. But not venturing his eyes, for fear
she should wake, he turned his head aside, and viewed her in
Pallas's mirror, and thus directing his stroke, cut off her head ;
when immediately, from the gushing blood, there darted
Pegasus winged. Perseus now inserted Medusa's head into
Pallas's shield, which thence retained the faculty of astonish
ing and benumbing all who looked on it."

This fable seems invented to show the prudent method ot
choosing, undertaking, and conducting a war. The chief thing
to consider in undertaking war is a commission from Pallas,
certainly not from Venus, as the Trojan war was, or other
slight motive. Because the designs of war ought to be jus
tified by wise counsels. As to the choice of war, the iable
propounds three grave and useful precepts.

The first is, that no prince should be over- solicitous to
subdue a neighbouring nation : for the method of enlarging
an empire is very different from that of increasing an estate.
"Regard is justly had to contiguity or adjacency in private
lands and possessions ; but in the extending of empire, the

• Ovid, Metaia, iv.

iltl.] Tllti FAtitfi OF i»tiRSEtTS INTERPRETED.. 109

occasion, the facility, and advantage of a war, are to be re
garded instead of vicinity. Thus Perseus, though an eastern
prince, readily undertook an expedition into the remotest
parts of the western world. An opposite instance of the
wisdom of this precept occurs in the different strategy of
war practised by Philip and Alexander. For Philip urged
war only on the frontiers of his empire, and with great strife
and peril barely succeeded in bringing a few cities under his
rule, but Alexander carried his invading arms into distant
countries; and with a felicitous boldness undertook an ex
pedition against Persia, and subduing multitudinous nations
on his journey, rested at last rather fatigued with conquest
than with arms. This policy is further borne out by the
propagation of the Koman power ; for at the time that the
arms of this martial people on the side of the west stretched
no further than Liguria, they had brought under their
dominion all the provinces of the East as far as Mount
Taurus. In like manner, Charles the Eighth, finding a war
with Great Britain attended with some dangers, directed his
enterprise against Naples, which he subdued with wonderful
rapidity and ease. One of the causes of these wonderful
successes in distant wars, is the low state of discipline and
equipment, which invites the attack of the invading power,
and the terror which is generally struck into the enemy from
the bold audacity of the enterprise. Nor can the enemy
retaliate or effect any reciprocal invasion, which always re
sults from a war waged with the frontier nations. But the
chief point is, that in subduing a neighbouring state the
choice of stratagems is narrowed by circumstances ; but in a
distant expedition, a man may roll the tide of war where
the military discipline is most relaxed, or where the strength
of the nation is most torn and wasted by civil discord, or in
whatever part the enemy can be the most easily subjugated.
The second precept is, that the cause of the war be just
and honourable; for this adds alacrity both to the soldiers
and the people who find the supplies, procures aids, al
liances, and numerous other conveniences. Now, there is
no cause of war more just and laudable than the suppressing
of tyranny, by which a people are dispirited, benumbed, or
left without life and vigour, as at the sight of Medusa. Such
heroic acts transformed Hercules into a divinity. It was
undoubtedly a point of religion with the Romans to aid v, ith

110 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING* [BOOK 11.

valour and speed such of their allies and confederates as
v/ere in any way distressed. So just and vindictive wars
have generally met with success ; as the war of the triumvi
rate in revenge for the death of CaBsar, the war of Severus
for the death of Pertinax, and of Junius Brutus for the
death of Lucretia; for they who take up arms to relieve and
revenge the calamities of men fight under the standard of
Perseus.

Lastly, it is prudently added, that as there were three of
the Gorgons who represent war, Perseus singled her out for
his expedition that was mortal ; which affords this precept,
that such kind of wars should be chosen as may be brought
to a conclusion without pursuing vast and infinite hopes.

Again, Perseus's setting out is extremely well adapted to
his undertaking, and in a manner commands success, — he
received despatch from Mercury, secrecy from Pluto, and
foresight from Pallas. It also contains an excellent alle
gory, that the wings given him by Mercury were for his
heels, not for his shoulders, because expedition is not so
much required in the first preparations for war as in the
subsequent matters that administer to the first ; for there is
no error more frequent in war than, after brisk preparations,
to halt for subsidiary forces and effective supplies.

The allegory of Pluto's helmet rendering men invisible
und secret, is sufficiently evident of itself; for secrctness
appertains to celerity, inasmuch as speed prevents the dis
closure of counsels : it therefore succeeds in importance.
Pluto's helmet also seems to imply, that authority over the
army is to be lodged in one chief ; as directing committees
in such cases are too apt to scatter dissensions among the
troops, and to be swayed by paltry freaks and jealousies
rather than by patriotism. It is not of less importance to dis
cover the designs of the enemy, for which purpose the mirror
of Pallas must be joined to the helmet of Pluto to disclose
the weakness, the divisions, counsels, spies, and factions of
the enemy. But as these arms are not sufficient to cope
with all the casualties of war, we must grasp the shield of
Pallas, i.e. of Providence, as a defence from the caprices of
fortune. To this belong the despatch of spies, the fortifica
tion of camps, the equipment and position of the army, and
whatever tends to promote the success of a just defensive

CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF PEUSEUS INTERPRETED. Ill

war. For in the issue of contests the shield of Pallas is of
greater consequence than the sword of Mars,

But though Perseus may now seem extremely well pre
pared, there still remains the most important thing of all, —
before he enters upon the war he must of necessity consult
the Grese. These Grere are treasons, half but degenerate
sisters of the Gorgons, who are representatives of wars ; for
wars are generous and noble, but treasons base and vile.
The Grese are elegantly described as hoary-headed, and like
old women from their birth, on account of the perpetual
cares, fears, and trepidations attending traitors. Their force
also, before it breaks out into open revolt, consists either in
an eye or a tooth ; for all faction alienated from a state is
both watchful and biting, and this eye and tooth is as it
were common to all the disaffected, because whatever they
learn and know is transmitted from one to another, as by
the hands of faction. And for the tooth they all bite with
the same, and clamour with one throat, so that each of them
singly expresses the multitude.

These Greae, therefore, must be prevailed upon by Perseus
to lend him their eye and their tooth, — the eye to give
him indications and make discoveries, the tooth for sowing
rumours, raising envy, and stirring up the minds of the
people. And when all these things are thus disposed and
prepared, then follows the action of the war.

He finds Medusa asleep ; for whoever undertakes a war
with prudence generally falls upon the enemy unprepared,
and nearly in a state of security; and here is the occasion
for Pallas's mirror, for it is common enough, before the
danger presents, to see exactly into the state and posture of
the enemy; but the principal use of the glass is in the very
instant of danger, to discover the manner thereof and pre
vent consternation, which is the thing intended by Per-
seus's turning his head aside and viewing the enemy in the
glass.b

Two effects here follow the conquest, — 1. The darting
forth of Pegasus, which evidently denotes fame, that flies
abroad, proclaiming the victory far and near. 2. The bear-

b Thus it is the excellence of a general early to discover what turn
the battle is likely to take, and looking prudently behind, as well an
before, to pursue a yictory so as not to be unprovided for a retrent.

112 ADVANCEMENT Of LEARNING. [BOOR It

ing of Medusa's head in the uhield, which is the greatest
possible defence and safeguard ; for one grand and memorable
enterprise, happily accomplished, bridles all the motions and
attempts of the enemy, fltupifies disaffection, and quells
commotions.

DIONYSUS, OR BACCHUS."
Explained of the Passions.

" THE fable runs, that Semele, Jupiter's mistress, having
bound him by an inviolable oath to grant her an unknown
request, desired he would embrace her in the same form and
manner he used to embrace Juno ; and the promise being
irrevocable, she was burnt to death with lightning in the
performance. The embryo, however, was sewed up, and
carried in Jupiter's thigh, till the complete time of its birth;
but the burden thus rendering the father lame, and giving
him pain, the child was thence called Dionysus. When born,
he was committed for some years to be nursed by Proser
pina ; and when grown up, appeared with such an effeminate
face, that his sex seemed somewhat doubtful. He also died
and was buried for a time, but afterwards revived. When a
youth, he first introduced the cultivation and dressing of
vines, the method of preparing wine, and taught the use
thereof; whence becoming famous, he subdued the world,
even to the utmost bounds of the Indies. He rode in a
chariot drawn by tigers : there danced about him certain
deformed demons called Cobali, &c. ; the Muses also joined
in his train. He married Ariadne, who was deserted by
Theseus. The ivy was sacred to him. He was also held the
inventor and institutor of religious rites and ceremonies,
but such as were wild, frantic, and full of corruption and
cruelty. He had also the power of striking men writh frenzies.
Pentheus and Orpheus were torn to pieces by the frantic
women at his orgies, the first for climbing a tree to behold
their outrageous ceremonies, and the other for the music of
his harp. But the acts of this god are much entangled and
confounded with those of Jupiter."

This fable seerns to contain a little system of morality, so
that there is scarce any better invention in all ethics. Un-

• Ovid's Metami rphosev, iii. iv. and vi. ; and Fasti, iii. 767.

CHAP. XIII.] THE FABLE OF BACCHUS INTERPRETED. 113

der the history of Bacchus is drawn the nature of unlawful
desire, or affection and disorder; for the appetite and thirst
*>f apparent good is the mother of all unlawful desire, though
ever so destructive ; and all unlawful desires arc conceived
in unlawful wishes or requests, rashly indulged or granted
before they are well understood or considered ; and when the
affection begins to grow warm, the mother of it (the nature
of good) is destroyed and burnt up by the heat. And whilst
an unlawful desire lies in the embryo, or unripened in the
mind, which is its fathc .•, and here represented by Jupiter, it
is cherished and concealed, especially in the inferior part of
the mind, corresponding to the thigh of the body, where pain
twitches and depresses the mind so far as to render its reso
lutions and actions imperfect and lame. And even after this
child of the mind is confirmed, and gains strength by con
sent and habit, and comes forth into action, it must still bo
nursed by Proserpina for a time ; that is, it skulks and
hides its head in a clandestine manner, as it were under
ground, till at length, when the checks < f shame and fear are
removed, and the requisite boldness acquired, it either as
sumes the pretext of some virtue, or openly despises infamy.
And it is justly observed, that every vehement passion ap
pears of a doubtful sex, as having the strength of a man at
first, but at last the impotence of a woman. It is also excel
lently added, that Bacchus died and rose again; for the affec
tions sometimes seem to die and be no more; but there is no
trusting them, even though they were buried, being always
apt and ready to rise again whenever the occasion or object
offers.

That Bacchus should be the inventor of wine carries a fine
allegory with it; for every affection is cunning and subtile
in discovering a proper matter to nourish and feed it; ind
of all things known to mortals, wine is the most powerful
and effectual for exciting and inflaming passions of all kinds,
being indeed like a common fuel to them all.

It is again with great elegance observed of Bacchus, that
he subdued provinces and undertook endless expeditions; for
the affections never rest satisfied with what they enjoy, but
with an endless and insatiable appetite thirst after somewhat
further. And tigers are prettily feigned to draw the chariot ;
for as sooi. as any affection shall, from going on foot, be ad-

114 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. iBOOK It

vanccd to ride, it triumphs over reason, and exerts its cruelty,
fierceness, and strength against all that oppose it.

It is also hnnoronsly imagined, that ridiculous demons
should dance and frisk about this chariot; for every passion
produces indecent, disorderly, interchangeable, and deformed
motions in the eyes, countenance, and gesture, — so that the
person under the impulse whether of anger, insult, love, &c.,
though to himself he may seem grand, lofty, or obliging,
yet in the eyes of others appears mean, contemptible, or
ridiculous.

The Muses also are found in the train of Bacchus; for
there is scarce any passion without its art, science, or doc
trine to court and Hatter it ; but in this respect the in
dulgence of men of genius has greatly detracted from the
majesty of the Muses, who ought to be the leaders and
conductors of human life, and not the handmaids of the
passions.

The allegory of Bacchus falling in love with a cast mis
tress is extremely noble ; for it is certain that the affections
always court and covet what has been rejected upon expe
rience. And all those who, by serving and indulging their
passions immensely raise the value of enjoyment, should
know, that whatever they covet and pursue, whether riches,
pleasure, glory, learning, or anything else, they only pursue
those things that have been forsaken, and cast off with con
tempt by great numbers in all ages, after possession and
experience.

Nor is it without a mystery that the ivy \vas sacred to
Bacchus ; and this for two reasons, — First, because ivy is an
evergreen, or flourishes in the winter; and, secondly, be
cause it winds and creeps about so many things, as trees,
walls, and buildings, and raises itself above them. As to the
first, every passion grows fresh, strong, and vigorous by
opposition and prohibition, as it were by a kind of contrast
or antiperistasis,1' like the ivy in the winter. And for the

l> The word avTurtpiffratrtc, used by the Greeks to express the forces
of activity and resistance, which are continually producing all the varie
gated tissue of phenomena which mark the history of the moral and
physical world, and are necessary to their preservation. Without reac
tion, action could not take place, a.s lorce can be only displayed in
overcomiag resistance, and we can have no idea of its existence except
from ith effect -you tho antagonistic (;»rce it attempts to subdue. In

CHAP. XIII. | THE FABLE OF BACCHUS INTERPRETED. 115

second, the predominant passion of the mind throws itself,
like the ivy, round all human actions, entwines all our reso
lutions, and perpetually adheres to and mixes itself in, among,
or even overtops them.

And no wonder that superstitious rites and ceremonies
are attributed to Bacchus, when almost every ungovernable
passion grows wanton and luxuriant in corrupt religions;
nor again, that fury and frenzy should be sent and dealt out
by him, because every passion is a short frenzy, and if it be
vehement, lasting, and take deep root, it terminates in mad
ness. And hence the allegory of Pentheus and Orpheus
being torn to pieces is evident ; for every headstrong passion
is extremely bitter, severe, inveterate, and revengeful upon
all curious inquiry, wholesome admonition, free counsel and
persuasion.

Lastly, the confusion between the persons of Jupiter and
Bacchus will justly admit of an allegory, because noble and
meritorious actions may sometimes proceed from virtue,
sound reason, and magnanimity, and sometimes again from
a concealed passion and secret desire of ill, however they
may be extolled and praised ; insomuch that it is not easy to
distinguish betwixt the acts of Bacchus and the acts of
Jupiter.

But perhaps we remain too long in the theatre, — it is
time we should advance to the palace of the mind.

mechanics, Newton has observed that reaction is always equal to action,
and we may observe a similar principle in the antiperistasis of the
moral world. The reactions in communities and individuals against any
dominant principle are generally marked with excesses proportionally
antagonistic to the fashions over which they prevail ; and though no
precise certainty can be acquired in the interpretation of phenomena
connected with the human will, yet we think a vast amount of proximate
truth might be elicited, and a flood of light thrown upon the springs of
our spiritual nature by a philosophic attempt to generalize such move
ments and connect them with the higher laws of our mental constitu
tion. Physically speaking, the force of the body resisting only augments
the effect of the force which endeavours to conquer it ; while in the
moral world it increases both the effect and the power, as resistance
irritates the assailing force and consequently excites it to redouble its
efforts : hence may be seen the wisdom of that Providence who has
hidden the springs of the universe from ocular vision to sharpen man's
faculties in their discovery, and who ordinarily surrounds the course of
genh>s with difficult)^ io order that it may burst through them with
pure, Hame. Ed.

i 2

116 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING, [BOOK 1IL

THIRD BOOK.

CHAPTER I.

Division of Learning into Theology and Philosophy. The; latter divided
into the Knowledge of God. of Nature, and of Man. Construction
of Philosophia Prinia as the Mother of all the Sciences.

TO THE KING.

ALL history, excellent king, treads the earth, performing
the office of a guide rather than of a light : and poetry is, as
it were, the stream of knowledge, — a pleasing thing full of
variations, and affects to be inspired with divine rapture, to
which treasures also pretend. But now it is time I should
awake and raise myself from the earth, and explore the
liquid regions of philosophy and the sciences. Knowledge
is like waters ; some descend from the heavens, some spring
from the earth. For all knowledge proceeds from a twofold
source, — either from divine inspiration or external sense. As
for that knowledge which is infused by instruction, that is
cumulative, not original, as it is in waters, which, besides the
head-springs, are increased by the reception of other rivers
which fall into them. We shall, therefore, divide sciences into
theology and philosophy. In the former we do not include
natural theology, of which we are to speak anon, but
restrict ourselves to inspired divinity, the treatment of which
we reserve for the close of the work, as the fruit and sabbath
of all human contemplations. Philosophy has three objects ;
viz., God, nature, and man ; as also three kinds of rays — for
nature strikes the human intellect with a direct ray, God
*trv» a refracted ray, from the inequality of the medium
.jetwtxt the Creator and the creatures, and man, as exhibited
to himself, with a reflected ray : whence it is proper to
divide philosophy into the doctrine of the deity, the doctrine
of nature, and the doctrine of man.

i3nt as the divisions of the sciences are not like different
lines that meet in one angle, but rather like the branches of
Uetrs that join in one tnmk,a it is first necessary that we con-

• observation is the foundation of Father Castel's late piece D«i
wadt*matique Universelle, wherein^ by the help of sensible represent*

CHAP, i.] AtioMs OP PUIMARY PHILOSOPHY. 117

stitute an universal science as a parent to the rest, and as
making a part of the common road to the sciences before the
ways separate. And this knowledge we call " philosophia
prima," primitive or primative or summary philosophy; it has
no other for its opposite, and differs from other sciences
rather in the limits whereby it is confined than in the sub
ject as treating only the summits of things. And whether
this should be noted as wanting may seem doubtful, though
I rather incline to note it ; for I find a certain rhapsody of
natural theology, logics, and physics, delivered in a certain
sublimity of discourse, by such as aim at being admired for
standing on the pinnacles of the sciences ; but what we mean
is, without ambition, to design some general science, for the
reception of axioms, not peculiar to any one science, but
common to a number of them.

Axioms of this kind are numerous ; for example, if equals
be added to unequals, the wholes will be unequal. This is a
rule in mathematics, which holds also in ethics, with regard
to distributive justice. For in commutative justice, equity
requires, that equal portions be given to unequal persons ;
but in distributive justice, that unequal portions should be
distributed to unequals. Things agreeing to the same third,
agree also with one another : this, likewise, is an axiom in
mathematics, and, at the same time, so serviceable in logic as
to be the foundation of syllogism. b Nature shows herself best
in her smallest works. This is a rule in philosophy, that
produced the atoms of Democritus, and was justly employed
by Aristotle in politics, when he begins the consideration ot
a commonwealth in a family. All things change, but nothing
is lost.c This is an axiom in physics, and holds in natural
theology ; for as the sum of matter neither diminishes nor
increases, so it is equally the work of omnipotence to create
or to annihilate it, which even the Scripture testifies : " Didici
quod omnia opera, qua) fecit Deus, perseverent in perpetuum :
nori possumus eis quicquam addere, nee auferre."d Things
are preserved from destruction, by bringing them back to
their principles. This is an axiom in physics, but holds

tions anil divisions, he proposes to teach the sciences readily, and even
abstract mathematics, to common capacities. Shaw.

b Whately's Logic, ii. 3, § 1. « CL Plat. Theaet. i. 152.

d EcrA iii. 14, and xlii. 21.

J18 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAKXIXO. [BOOK. HL

equally in politics ; for the preservation of states, as is well
observed by Machiavel, c depends upon little more than
reforming and bringing them back to their ancient customs.
A putrid malady is more contagious in its early than in its
more matured stages, holds in natural as in moral philosophy ;
for wicked and desperately impious persons do not corrupt
society so much as they who blend with their vices a mix
ture of virtue. What tends to preserve the effects of the
greatest laws of nature, displays the strongest action, is a
rule in natural philosophy. For the first and universal
motion, that preserves the chain and contexture of nature
unbroken, and prevents a vacuum, as they call it, or empty
discontinuity in the world, controls the more particular law
which draws heavy bodies to the earth, and preserves the
region of gross and compacted natures. The same rule is
good in politics ; for those things which conduce to the con
servation of the entire commonwealth, control and modify
those made for the welfare of particular members of a
government. The same principle may be observed in theo
logy ; for, among the virtues of this class, charity is the
most communicative, and excels all the rest. The force of
an agent is augmented by the antiperistatis of the counter
acting body,f is a rule in civil states as in nature, for all fac
tion is vehemently, moved and incensed at the rising of a
contrary faction.

A discord ending immediately in a concord sets off the har
mony. This is a rule in music that holds also true in morals,
A trembling sound in music gives the same pleasure to the
ear, as the coruscation of water or the sparkling of a dia
mond to the eye, —

" splendet tremulo sub lumine pontus." *

The organs of the senses resemble the organs of reflection,
as we see in optics and acoustics, where a concave glass re
sembles the eye, and a sounding cavity the ear. And of
these axioms an infinite number might be collected ; and
thus the celebrated Persian magic was, in effect, no more
than a notation of the correspondence in the structure and
fabric of things natural and civil Nor let any one under*

• Discorso sopra la Prima Deca <li Tito Livio, libro 3.

' Aristotle, Meteors, Problem 1, § 11. * <Eneid, vii. 9.

CHAP. I.] PRIMARY PHILOSOPHY DEFICIENT. 119

stand all this of mere similitudes, as they might at first ap
pear, for they really are one and the same footsteps, and
impressions of nature, made upon different matters and sub
jects. And in this light the thing has not hitherto been
carefully treated. A lew of these axioms may indeed be
found in the writings of eminent men, here and there in
terspersed occasionally ; but a collected body of them, which
should have a primitive and summary tendency to the sci
ences, is not hitherto extant, though a thing of so great
moment as remarkable to show nature to be one and the
same, which is supposed the office of a primary philosophy.

There is another part of this primary philosophy regarding
the adventitious or transcendental condition of things; as little,
much, like, different, possible, impossible, entity, nonentity,
&c. For as these things do not properly come under physics,
and as their logical consideration rather accommodates them
to argumentation than existence, it is proper that this point
be not quite deserted, fis being of considerable dignity and
use, so as to have some place in- the nnnnwmesit of the
sciences. But this should bo uc;;e in a manner very different
from the common : for example, no writer who has treated
of much and little, endeavours to assign the cause why some
things in nature are so numerous and large, and others so
rare and small ; for, doubtless, it is impossible in the nature
of things, that there should be as great a quantity of gold as
of iron, or roses as plenty as grass, and as great a variety
of specific us of imperfect or non-specific nature.11 So, like
wise, nobody that treats of like and different has sufficiently
explained, why. betwixt particular species there are almost
constantly interposed some things that partake of both ; as
moss1 betwixt corruption and a plant ; motionless fish be
twixt a plant and an animal ; bats betwixt birds and quad
rupeds, <fcc. Nor has any one hitherto discovered why iron
does not attract iron, as the loadstone does ; and why gold
does not attract gold, as quicksilver does, &e. But ot these

h Specific bodies ; that is, those which have a certain homogeneous
form and regularity in their organization, and which exist in such variety
as to urge the mind to form them into species. Ed.

' By the aid of the microscope, moss has been discovered to be only a
collection of small plants, with parts as distinct and regular in their con
formation as the larger plants. The vervain which generally covers
the surface of moist bodies long exposed to the air presents
appearances. Ed.

120 ADVANCEMZKT OF LE.MlKlKG. [BOOK ML

particulars we find no mention in tlic discourses of trans-
cendentals ; for men have rather pursued the quirks of words
tlian the subtilities of tilings. And, therefore, we would
introduce into primary philosophy a real and solid inquiry
into these transcendentals, cr adventitious conditions of
beings, according to the laws of nature, not of speech.

CHAPTER TI.

Natural Theology with its Appendix, the KnowleJ^e of Angels an«J

Spirits.

THUS having first seated the common parent of the sci
ences, as Berecynthia rejoicing over her celestial offspring, —

" Omnes cceltcolas, omnes supera alta tenentes,"11 — •

we return to our division of philosophy into divine, natural,
and human ; for natural theology may be justly called
divine philosophy. Divine philosophy is a science, or rather
the rudiments of a science, derivable from God by the light
of nature, and the contemplation of his creatures ; so that
with regard to its object, it is truly divine ; but with regard
to its acquirement, natural. The bounds of this knowledge
extend to the confutation of atheism, and the ascertaining
the laws of nature, but not to the establishing of religion.
And, therefore, God never wrought a miracle to convert an
atheist, because the light of nature is sufficient to demon
strate a deity ; but miracles were designed for the conver
sion of the idolatrous and superstitious, who acknowledged a
God, but erred in their worship of him — the light of nature
being unable to declare the will of God, or assign the just
form of worshipping him. For as the power and skill of a
workman are seen in his works, but not his person, so the
works of God express the wisdom and omnipotence of the
Creator, without the least representation of his image. And
in this particular, the opinion of the heathens differed from
the sacred verity, as supposing the world to be the image of
God, and man a little image of the world. The Scripture
never gives the world that honour, but calls it the work of
his hands; making only man the image of God.b And, there-
tore, the being of a God. that he governs the world, that he
• ^Eneid, vi. 737. k Pa. viii. 8, cii. 25, efc al.

CHAP. II.] ITATUKAL THEOtOOT. 121

is all-powerful, wise, prescient, good, a just rewarder and
pmiislier, and to be adored, may be shown and enforced from
his works ; and many other wonderful secrets, with regard to
his attributes, and much more as to his dispensation and
government over the universe, may aU.o be solidly deduced,
and made appear from the same. And this subject has been
usefully treated by several.0

But from the contemplation of nature, and the principles of
human reason, to dispute or urge anything with vehemence,
as to the mysteries of faith, or over-curiously to examine and
sift them, by prying into the manner of the mystery, is n«»
safe thing : " Give unto faith the things that are faith's."
And the heathens grant as much in that; excellent and divine
fable of the golden chain, where " men and gods arc repre
sented as unable to draw Jupiter to earth, but Jupiter able
to draw them up to heaven."41 So that it is a vain attempt
to draw down the sublime mysteries of religion to our
reason, but we should rather raise our minds to the adorable
throne of heavenly truth. And in this part of natural
theology, we find rather an excess than any defect ; which
we have however turned a little aside to note, on account of
the extreme prejudice and danger which both religion and
philosophy hence incur, because a mixture of these makes
both an heretical religion and a fantastic and superstitions
philosophy."

It is otherwise, as to the nature of spirits and angels ;
this being neither unsearchable nor forbid, but in a great
part level to the human mind, on account of their affinity.
We are, indeed, forbid in Scripture to worship angels, or to
entertain fantastical opinions of them,1 so as to exalt them

c And more particularly since, by Cud worth, in his " Intellectu.il
System of the Universe ;" Mr. ftoyle, in his ''Christian Virtuoso;"
Mr. Ray, in his " Wisdom of the Creation ;" Dr. Bentley, in his " Dis
course of the Felly and Unreasonableness of Atheism;" Dr. Clarke, in

Principles of Religion ;" Commenius's " Physicae
num reformat* Synopsis;" Paley's "Natural Religion;" the Bridge-
water Treatises, and Cardinal Wiseman's " Connection of Science with
Revealed Religion." Ed. d Iliad, ix.

e See above, Prelim, sec. iii. 8, and hereafter of Theology sec. ult.

• St. Paul, Coloss. ii. 5, 18.

122 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAttNlNG. [liOOK III

above the degree of creatures, or to think of them higher
than we have reason ; but the sober inquiry about them,
which either ascends to a knowledge of their nature by the
scale of corporeal beings, or views them in the mind, as in a
glass, is by no means forbid. The same is to be understood
of revolted or unclean spirits : conversation with them, or
using their assistance, is unlawful ; and much more in any
manner to worship or adore them : but the contemplation
and knowledge of their nature, power, and illusions, appears
from Scripture, reason, and experience, to be no small part
of spiritual wisdom. Thus says the apostle, " Strategematum
ejus non ignari suniiis."s And thus it is as lawful in natural
theology to investigate the nature of evil spirits, as the
nature of poisons in physics, or the nature of vice in morality.
But this part of knowledge relating to angels and spirits,
which we call the appendage to natural theology, cannot be
noted for deficient, as having been handled by many ; but we
may justly tax no small part of the writers in this way,
either with levity, superstition, or fruitless speculation.

CHAPTER ITI.

Natural Philosophy divided into Speculative and Practical. The Neces
sity ot keeping these Two Branches distinct.

BUT to leave natural theology, and proceed to natural
philosophy ; as it was well said by Democritus, that " the
knowledge of nature lies concealed in deep mines and caves ;"a
and by the alchemists, that "Vulcan is a second nature, imi
tating concisely what the first takes time and circuit to
effect ;"b suppose natural philosophy were divided, as it
regards the mine and the furnace, and two offices of phi
losophers, miners and smelters introduced ? This, indeed,
may appear jocular, yet such a kind of division we judge
extremely useful, when proposed in just and familiar terms ;
so that the doctrine of nature be divided into speculative and
practical, or the search after causes, and the production of
effects : the one entering into the bowels of nature, and the
other forming her upon the anvil. Nor are we insensible of

t 2 Cor. ii. 11. a Laertius, Life o* Seouca.

b Paraceisus de Philos. Sagac.

CHAP. IV.] DIVISION OF K AT URAL PHILOSOPHY. 123

the strict union betwixt causes and effects ; so that the ex
planation of them must, in some measure, be coupled
together : but as all solid and fruitful natural philosophy
hath both an ascending and a descending scale of parts,
leading from experience to axioms, and from axioms to new
discoveries, it seems most advisable here, in the division of
sciences, to separate speculation from operation, and treat
them distinct.

CHAPTER IV.

Division of the Speculative Branch of Natural Philosophy into Physici
and Metaphysics. Physics relate to the Investigation of Efficient
Causes and Matter ; Metaphysics to that of Final Causes and the
Form. Division of Physics into the Sciences of the Principles of
Things, the Structure of Things, and the Variety of Things. Division
of Physics in relation to the Variety of Things into Abstract and
Concrete. Division of Concretes agrees with the Distribution of the
Parts of Natural History. Division of Abstracts into the Doctrine
of Material Forms and Motion. Appendix of Speculative Physics
twofold : viz., Natural Problems and the Opinions of Ancient Philo
sophers. Metaphysics divided into the Knowledge of Forms and the
Doctrine of Final Causes.

THE speculative or theoretical part of natural philosophy
we divide into physics and metaphysics ; taking the word
metaphysics in a sense different from that received. And
here we must, once for all, declare, as to our use of words,
that though our conceptions and notions are new, and
different from the common, yet we religiously retain the
ancient forms of speech ; for as we hope that the method,
and clear explanation, we endeavour at, will free us from any
misconstruction that might arise from an ill choice of words :
BO in everything else, it is our desire, as much as possible,
without prejudice to truth and the sciences, not to deviate
from ancient opinions and forms of speech. And here I
cannot but wonder that Aristotle should proceed in such a
spirit of contradiction, as he did to all antiquity : not only
coining new terms of science at pleasure, but endeavouring
to abolish all the knowledge of the ancients ; so that he
never mentions any ancient author but to reprove him, nor
opinion but to confute it ; which is the ready way to pro
cure fame and followers. For certainly it happens in philo
sophical, as it does in divine truth : '* I came in the nann

124 ADVANCEMENT OP LEAfcNlNQ. |fcOOfc 111.

of my Father, and ye received me not ; but if one came in
his own name, ye would receive him."a Which divine
aphorism, as applied to Antichrist, the great deceiver, plainly
shows us that a man's coming in his own name, without
regard to antiquity or paternity, is no good sign of truth,
though joined with the fortune and success of being received.
But for so excellent and sublime a genius as Aristotle, one
would think he caught this ambition from his scholar, and
affected to subdue all opinions, as Alexander did all nations;
and thus erect himself a monarchy in his own contemplation.
Though for this, perhaps, he may not escape the lash of some
severe pen, no more than his pupil ; and be called a success
ful ravager of learning, as the other was of countries.1* Some
are doubtless disposed to treat him with the same courtesy
as his scholar, in saying,

" Fcclix doctrinae praedo, non utile mundo
Editus exemplum."c

But on the other hand, desiring, by aft possible means, to
cultivate and establish a free commerce betwixt ancient and
modern learning, we judge it best religiously to side with
antiquity, and therefore to retain ancient terms, though we
frequently alter their sense, according to that moderate and
laudable usage in politics, of introducing a new state of
things, without changing the styles and titles of government.*1
Thus then we distinguish metaphysics, as may appear by
what was above delivered, from primary philosophy,0 which
lias hitherto been taken from it, making this the common
parent of the sciences, and that a part of natural philosophy

• St. John v. 43.

b We should rather say that Alexander caught the fire of ambition
from his master, as Aristotle put forth his pretensions to mental empire
long before his pupil overran Egypt. In addition, it may be observed that
Aristotle was an Athenian, and that the strong antipathies which his
countrymen bore to the king of Persia were increased by the ties of
blood and friendship which bound him to Hermius, king of Atarne",
whom the eastern despot had abused. It is most likely, therefore, that
Aristotle never missed an opportunity of exciting his royal pupil to that
conquest, which the Athenians had previously attempted to execute ; as
affording him the satisfaction of retaliating the injuries of a departec
friend, as well as an opportunity ot collecting a store of natural facts o :
Which he might erect the superstructure of the physical sciences. £oL

s Lucan, x. 21. d Tacitus, Annals, i.

e Concerning primary philosophy, see above.

CHAP. IV. J THE BRANCHES OF PHYSICS DISCRIMINATED. 123

\Ve have assigned the common and promiscuous axioms of
the sciences to primitive philosophy ; and all relative and
accidental conditions of essences, which we call transcend ant,
as multitude, paucity, identity, diversity, possible, impossible,
and the like, we have included in the same province, with
this understanding, that they be handled according to their
effects in nature, and not logically. We have referred the
inquiry concerning God, unity, goodness, angels, and spirits,
io natural philosophy. But to assign the proper oflicc of
metaphysics, as contradistinguished from primary philosophy,
mid natural theology, we must note, that as physics regards
the things which are wholly immersed in matter and move-
able, so metaphysics regards what is more abstracted and
fixed \ that physics supposes only existence, motion, and
natural necessity, whilst metaphysics supposes also mind and
idea. But to be more express : as we have divided natural
philosophy into the investigation of causes, and the pro
duction of effects, and referred the investigation of causes
to theory, which we again divide into physical and meta
physical ; it is necessary that the real difference of these two
be drawn from the nature of the causes they inquire into ,
and therefore, plainly, physics inquires into the efficient and
the matter, and metaphysics into the form and the end.
Physics, therefore, is vague and unstable as to causes, and
treats moveable bodies as its subjects, without discovering a
constancy of causes in different subjects. Thus the same
fire gives hardness to clay and softness to wax, though it be
no constant cause either of hardness or softness.1'

" Liinus ut hie durescit, ct hoec ut cera liquescit
Uno codemquc igni." t

We divide physics into three parts ; for nature is cither
collected into one total, or diffused and distributed. Nature
is directed in its collocations either by the common elements
in the diversity of things, or by the unity which prevails in
the one integral fabric of the universe. Whence this union

f Physics, therefore, may be defined that part of universal philosophy
which observes and considers the procedure of nature in bodies, so as to
discover her laws, powers, and etfects ; and the material origins, and
causes thereof, in different subjects ; and thence form rules (or imi-
latino, controlling, or even ejcceiiinj' her works, in the instances it
cutideiH. i&aw. * Virgil's Eclogues, viii. 80.

126 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III

of nature produces two parts of physics; the one relating to
the principles of things, and the other to the structure of the
universe ; whilst the third exhibits all the possible varieties
and lesser collections of things. And this latter is like a
iirst gloss, or paraphrase in the interpretation of nature.
None of the three are deficient entirely, but how justly and
solidly they have been treated is another question.

The third part we again divide into two others, with regard
to concretes and abstracts, or into physics of creatures and
physics of natures : the one inquiring into substances, and
all the variety of their accidents ; the other into accidents
through all the variety of substances. Thus if inquiry be
made about a lion or an oak ; these support many different
accidents : so if the inquiry were about heat or gravity ;
these are found in many different substances. But as all
physics lies in the middle, betwixt natural history and meta
physics ; so the former part approaches nearer to natural
history, and the latter to metaphysics.

Concrete physics has the same division with natural
history ; being conversant either about celestial appearances,
meteors, and the terrestrial globe ; or about the larger
assemblages of matter, called the elements ; and the lesser or
particular bodies : as also about praetergenerations and
mechanics. For in all these, natural history examines and
relates the matters of fact ; and physics their instable, or
material and efficient causes. And among these parts of
physics, that is absolutely lame and incomplete, which re
gards the celestial bodies, though for the dignity of the
subject it claims the highest regard. Astronomy, indeed, is
well founded in phenomena ; yet it is low and far from solid.
.But astrology is in many things destitute of all foundation.
And to say the truth, astronomy itself seems to offer Prome-
theus's sacrifice to the understanding ; for as he would have
imposed upon Jupiter a fair large hide, stuffed with straw,
and leaves, and twigs, instead of the ox itself, so astronomy
gives us the number, situation, motion, and periods of tho
stars, as a beautiful outside of the heavens, whilst the flesh
and the entrails are wanting ; that is, a well-fabricated
system, or the physical reasons and foundations for a just
theory, that should not only solve phenomena, as almost any
ingenious theory may do, but show the substance, motions,
and influences of the heavenly bodies, as they reall v are. For

CHAP. IV.] PHYSICAL ASTRONOMY DEFICIENT. 127

those dogmas arc long since exploded, which asserted the
rapture of the first morn and the solidity of the heavens, in
which the stars were supposed fastened like nails in the
vaulted roof of a hall, and other opinions almost as silly ;
viz., that the zodiac has several poles ; that there exists a
movement of resilience against the rapture of the first
motion; that all parts of the firmament are wheeled round in
perfect circles, with eccentric and epicycles to preserve their
circular rotation ; that the moon has no influence over bodies
higher in the heavens ; the absurdity of which notion?
have thrown men upon the extravagant idea of the diurnal
motion of the earth, an opinion which we can demonstrate
to be most false.'1 But scarce any one has inquired into the
physical causes of the substance of the heavens, stellar and
interstellar; the different velocities of the celestial bodies
with regard to one another; the different accelerations of
motion in the same planet; the sequences of their motion
from east to west;' the progressions, stations, and retro-
gradations of the planets, the stoppage and accidents of
their motion in perigee and apogee, the obliquity of their
motions; why the poles of rotation are principally in one
quarter of the heavens ; why certain planets keep a fixed
distance from the sun, <fec. Inquiries of this kind have
hitherto been hardly touched upon, but the pains have been
chiefly bestowed in mathematical observations and demon
strations ; which indeed may show how to account for all
these things ingeniously, but not how they actually are in
nature : how to represent the apparent motions of the
heavenly bodies, and machines of them, made according to
particular fancies ; but not the real causes and truth of
things. And therefore astronomy, as it now stands, loses its
dignity by being reckoned among the mathematical arts, for
it ought ii . ^ustice to make the most noble part of physics. k

h That (latrine had been recently demonstrated by Galileo, and de
fended by Gilbert.

1 That is, from west to east, according to the Copernican system. Ed.

k Baron maps out the entire region of human knowledge, breaking up
the old sections, and assigning to each science new boundaries more con
formable in his view to strict philosophical notions than the old ; yet he
capriciously enough makes mathematics an essential part of metaphysics,
or inquiry into forms, and astronomy a compartment of mathematics, and
then decries this absurd arrangement as the notion of the age. It
is evident, however, that the age was innocent of the charge, and that
Bacon snaiched up the idea from the demonstrations which Copernicus.

128 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAHNINO. [BOOK III

And whoever despises the imaginary separation between
terrestrial and celestial things, and well understands the
more general appetites and passions of matter,1 which are
powerful in both, may receive a clear information of what
happens above from that which happens below ; and from
what passes in the heavens, he may become acquainted with
some inferior motions hitherto undiscovered, not as these are
k'overned by those, but as they both have the same common
passions. We, therefore, report this physical part of astro
nomy as wanting, in comparison of which the present
animated astronomy is but as the stuffed ox of Prometheus
— aping the form but wanting the substance.

But for astrology, it is so full of superstition, that scarce
anything sound can be discovered in it ; though we judge it
should rather be purged than absolutely rejected. But if any
one shall pretend that this science is founded, not in reason

Kepler, and Gilbert employed to dethrone the Ptolemaic theory of
the heavens. Bacon was too jealous of Gilbert to entertain one
moment any doctrine that he advanced; and a little further on he
alludes to his mathematical thesis in favour of the earth's diurnal
motion as proofs contradicted by natural philosophy, though incapable
of being confuted by observation. From such demonstrations, how
ever, astronomy could no more be regarded as a branch of mathematics
than commerce or politics, because they sometimes call in the aid of
arithmetic ; and if Bacon had followed out this strange notion, he must
have made, with lamblicus, numbers the parent of all knowledge, as
there is no department of science advanced beyond mere empiricism
which does not rest upon the basis of figures. The degradation which
Bacon imputes to astronomy from its association with mathematics
shows that the most acute minds are no more privileged than the
weakest to decide questions in relation to things of which they are per
fectly ignorant. It is needless to say that a science only advances
beyond empiricism to those intermediate or general axioms which Bacon
so ardently desired to reach, so far as its phenomena admit of being
extended and corrected by mathematical forms, and that it was only
through such agencies that astronomy, almost in the space of a single
age, was transformed from a mere empiric colligation of facts into the
highest of the deductive sciences. The confusion arose from the conse
quences of Bacon's fundamental division of the sciences, which confounded
those which are purely formal with the substantive sciences of which
they are in some measure a universal condition, and hindered Bacon
from seizing with precision upon the functions and limits of these
sciences, and comprehending the important part the mathematical
portion of them perform, in extending and corroborating physical di$-
eovery. Ed.

' Tendencies, forces, efforts, and ettfcts. f.<l,

CHAP. IV.] ASTROLOGY PERVERTED. 129

and physical contemplations, but in the direct experience and
observation of past ages, and therefore not to be examined by
physical reasons, as the Chaldeans boasted, he may at the same
time bring back divination, auguries, soothsaying, and give
in to all kinds of fables ; for these also were said to descend
from long experience. But we receive astrology as a part of
physics, without attributing more to it than reason and the
evidence of things allow, and strip it of its superstition and
conceits. Thus we banish that empty notion about the
horary reign of the planets, as if each resumed the throne
thrice in twenty-four hours, so as to leave three hours super
numerary : and yet this fiction produced the division of the
week, a thing so ancient and so universally received. Tims
likewise we reject, as an idle figment, the doctrine of horo
scopes, and the distribution of the houses, though these are
the darling inventions of astrology, which have kept revel,
as it were, in the heavens. And we are surprised that some
eminent authors in astrology should rest upon so slender an
argument for erecting them, as because it appears by ex
perience that the solstices, the equinoxes, the new and full
moon, &c. have a manifest operation upon natural bodies,
therefore the more curious and subtile positions of the stars
must produce more exquisite and secret effects : whereas,
laying dilJe those operations of the sun, which are owing to
manifest heat, and a certain attractive virtue of the moon,
which causes the spring tide ; the other effects of the planets
upon natural bodies are, so far as experience reaches, exceed
ing small, weak, and latent. Therefore the argument should
run thus : since these greater revolutions are able to effect so
little, those more nice and trifling differences of positions
will have no force at all. And lastly, for the calculation of
nativities, fortunes, good or bad hours of business, and the
like fatalities, they are mere levities that have little in them
of certainty and solidity, and may be plainly confuted by
physical reasons.

And here we judge ifc proper to lay down some rules for
the examination of astrological matters, in order to retain
what is useful therein, and reject what is insignificant. Thus,
1. Let the greater revolutions be retained, but the lesser of
horoscopes and houses }y& rejected, — the former being like
ordnance, which shoot tp a great distance, whilst the other
2 K

130 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [COOK III

are but like small bows, that do no execution. 2. The celes
tial operations affect not all kinds of bodies, but only the
more sensible, as humours, air, and spirits.111 Here \ve excent
the operations of the sun's heat, which may doubtless pene
trate metals and other subterraneous bodies, and confine the
other operations chiefly to the air, the humours, and tho
spirits of things. 3. All the celestial operations rather ex
tend to masses of things than to individuals. Though they
may obliquely reach some individuals also, which are more
sensible than the rest, as a pestilent constitution of the air
affects those bodies which are least able to resist it. 4. All
the celestial operations produce not their effects instanta
neously and in a narrow compass, but exert them in large
portions of time and space. Thus predictions as to the tem
perature of a year may hold good, but not with regard to
single days. 5. There is no fatal necessity in the stars; and
this the more prudent astrologers have constantly allowed.
6. We will add one thing more, which, if amended and im
proved, might make for astrok)gy, viz., that we are certain
the celestial bodies have other influences besides heat and
light, but these influences act not otherwise than by the
foregoing rules, though they lie so deep in physics as to re
quire a fuller explanation. So that, upon the whole, we
must register as defective an astrology wrote in conformity
to these principles, under the name of Astrologia Sana.

This just astrology should contain, — 1. The doctrine of
the commixture of rays, viz., the conjunctions, oppositions,
and other situations, or aspect of the planets with regard to
one another, their transits through the signs of the zodiac,
and their situation in the same signs, as the situation of
planets in a sign is a certain conjunction thereof with the
.stars of that sign; and as the conjunctions, so likewise should
the oppositions and other aspects of the planets, with regard
to the celestial signs, be remarked, which lias not hitherto
been fully done. The commixtures of the rays of the fixed
stars with one another are of use in contemplating the fabric
of the world, and the nature of the subjacent regions, but in

m But if celestial bodies act upon humours, air, and spirits, and
these in turn affect solid bodies, it follows that they also act on solid
Ed.

CHAP. IV.] TRUE OBJECTS OP ASTROLOOY. 131

no respect for predictions, because at all times alike. 2. This
astrology should take in the nearest approaches and the far
thest removes of each planet to and from the zenith, accord
ing to the climate; for all the planets have their summer
and winter, wherein they dart their rays stronger or weaker,
according to their perpendicular or oblique direction. So we
question not but the moon in Leo has, in the same manner
as the sun, a greater effect upon natural bodies with us than
when in Pisces, not because the moon in Leo moves the
heud, and under Pisces affects the feet, but by reason of her
greater perpendicular elevation and nearer approach to the
larger stars. 3. It should receive the apogees and perigees?
of the planets, with a proper inquiry into what the vigour ol
the planets may perform of itself, and what through their
nearness to us ; for a planet is more brisk in its apogee, but
more communicative in its perigee. 4. It should include all
the other accidents of the planets' motions, their accelera
tions, retardations, courses, stations, retrogradations, dis
tances from the sun, increase and diminutions of light,
eclipses, <fcc. For all these things affect the rays of the
planets, and cause them to act either weaker, stronger, or in
a different manner. 5. This astrology should contain all
that can by any means be known or discovered of the nature
of the stars, both erratic and fixed, considered in their own
essence and activity, viz., their magnitude, colour, aspect,
sparkling and vibrating of light ; their situation with regard
to the poles or equinoctial; the constellations, which thicker
set and which thinner, which higher, which lower; what
fixed stars are in the zodiac, and what out of it ; the dif
ferent velocities of the planets, their different latitudes,
which of them are retrograde, and which not; their diffe
rent distances from the sun; which move swiftest in their
apogee, and which in their perigee ; the irregularities of
Mars, the excursions of Venus, and the extraordinary phases,
accidents, and appearances observable in Venus and the sun ;
with other things of this kind. G. Lastly, let it contain,
from tradition, the particular natures and alterations of the
planets and fixed stars ; for as these are delivered with gene
ral consent, they are not lightly to be rejected, unless they
directly contradict physical reasons. And of such observa-

132 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK III.

tions let a just astrology be formed ; and according to these
alone should schemes of the heavens be made and inter
preted.

Such an astrology should be used with greater confidence
in prediction, but more cautiously in election, and in both
cases with due moderation. Thus predictions may be made
of comets, and all kinds of meteors, inundations, droughts,
heats, frosts, earthquakes, fiery eruptions, winds, great rains,
the seasons of the year, plagues, epidemic diseases, plenty,
famine, wars, seditions, sects, transmigrations of people, and
all commotions or great innovations of things natural aijd
civil. Predictions may possibly be made more particulai,
though with less certainty, if when the general tendencies of
the times are found, a good philosophical or political judg
ment applies them to such things as are most liable to this
kind of accidents. For example, from a foreknowledge of
the seasons of any year they might be apprehended more
destructive to olives than grapes, more hurtful in distempers
of the lungs than the liver, more pernicious to the inhabit
ants of hills than valleys, and, for want of provisions, to
monks than courtiers, &c. Or if any one, from a knowledge
of the influence which the celestial bodies have upon the
spirits of mankind, should find it would affect the people
more than their rulers, learned and inquisitive men more
than the military, &c. For there are innumerable things of
this kind that require not only a general knowledge, Drained
from the stars, which are the agents, but also a particular
one of the passive subjects.

Nor are elections to be wholly rejected, though not so
much to be trusted as predictions; for we find in planting,
sowing, and grafting, observations of the moon are not abso
lutely trifling, and there are many particulars of this kind.
But elections are more to be curbed by our rules than pre
dictions ; and this must always be remembered, that election
only holds in such cases where the virtue of the heavenly
bodies, and the action of the inferior bodies also, is not tran
sient, as in the examples just mentioned; for the increases
-^ the moon, and planets are not sudden things. But punc
tuality of time should here be absolutely rejected. And
perhaps there are more of these instances to be found in civil
matters than some would imagine.

CHAP. 17. | CELESTIAL MAGIC. 133

There are but four ways of arriving at this science, viz.,

1. By future experiments; 2. Past experiments ; 3. Tradi
tions; and, 4. Physical reasons. But, 1. It is in vain, at
present to think of future experiments, because many ages
are required to procure a competent stock of them. And,

2. As for the past, it is true they are within our reach, but
it is a work of labour and much time to procure them. Thus
astrologers may, if they please, draw from real history all
greater accidents, as inundations, plagues, wars, seditions,
deaths of kings, itc., as also the positions of the celestial
bodies, not according to fictitious horoscopes, but the above-
mentioned rules of their revolutions, or such as they really
were at the time, and where the event conspires, erect a pro
bable rule of prediction. 3. All traditions should be well
sifted, and those thrown out that manifestly clash with phy
sical reasons, leaving such in their full force as comport well
therewith. And, 4. Those physical reasons are best suited
to this inquiry which search into the universal appetites and
passions of matter, and the simple genuine motions of the
heavenly bodies. And this we take lor the surest guide to
astrology.

There remains another piece of wild astrology, though
usually separated from it, and transferred to celestial magic
as they call it. It is a strange fiction of the human brain,
the receiving the benign action of the stars upon seals and
signets of gems or metal suited to the purpose, so as to de
tain and fix, as it were, the felicity of that hour which would
otherwise be volatile and fugitive. The poet passionately
complains of a similar art among the ancients long since
buried in oblivion, —

" Annulus infuso non vivit niirus Olympo,

Non inagis ingentes humili sub lumine Phoebo.s,
Fert gemma, aut celso divulsas cardine lunas."

Indeed the Roman Church has upheld the venerableness of
saints' relics and their virtues, since the flux of time has no
power to abate the force and efficacy of spiritual things ; but
to assert that the relics of persons might be so determined
&s to continue and perpetuate the virtue of an hour which

• Agrippa, Mystical Philosophy.

134 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK 111.

is past, and as it were dead, is mere superstition and im
posture.

Abstract physics may be justly divided into two parts, —
the doctrine of the schemes of matter, and the doctrine of
appetites and motions. The schemes of matter are density,
rarity, gravity, levity, heat, cold, tangibility, intangibility,
volatile, fixed, determinate, fluid, humid, dry, unctuous,
crude, hard, soft, fragile, tensile, porous, united, spirituous,
jejune, simple, compound, absolute, imperfectly mixed, fibrous
and veiny, simple position, or equable, similar, dissimilar,
specificate, unspecificate, organical, inorganical, animate and
inanimate ; and farther than this we proceed not. For sen
sible and insensible, rational and irrational, we refer to the
doctrine of man.

Appetites and motions are of two kinds, — as being either
simple motions, wherein the spring of all natural actions is
contained, that is, in respect of their schemes of matter; or
motions compounded or produced, and with these the com
mon philosophy, which enters but little into the body of
nature, begins. But these compound motions, such as gene
ration, corruption, &c., should be esteemed certain results or
effects of simple motions, rather than primitive motions
themselves. The simple motions are, — 1. Motion of resist
ance, or preventive of penetration of dimensions ; 2. Motion
of connection, preventive of a vacuum, as it is called; 3. Mo
tion of liberty, preventive of preternatural compression, or
extension ; 4. Motion in a new orb, with regard to rarefac
tion and condensation; 5. Motion of the second connection,
or preventive of solution of continuity; 6. Motion of the
greater congregation, or with regard to masses of connatural
bodies, commonly called natural motion; 7. Motion of the
lesser congregation, vulgarly termed motion of sympathy and
antipathy; 8. Disponent motion, with regard to the just
placing of parts in the whole ; 9. Motion of assimilation,
or multiplicative of its own nature upon another body;
10. Motion of excitation, where the noble agent excites the
latent and benumbed motion in another thing; 11. Motion
of the seal, or impression, by an operation without commu
nication of substance; 12. Regal motion, or the restraint ot
other motions by a predominant one; 13. Endless motion,
or spontaneous rotation; 14. Motion ot trepidation, or the

CHAP. IV.] DIVISION OF ABSTRACT PHYSICS. 135

motion of systole and diastole, with regard to bodies placed
betwixt things advantageous and hurtful; 15. And lastly,
Motion couchant, or a dread of motion, which is the cause of
mar;y effects. And such are the simple motions that really
proceed out of the inward recesses of nature; and which
being complicated, continued, used alternately, moderated,
repeated, and variously combined, produce those compound
motions or results of motion we call generation, conniption,
increase, diminution, alteration, translation, mixtion, separa
tion, and conversion.

The measures of motions are an attendant on physics, as
showing the effects of quantity, distance, or the sphere of
activity, intension and remission, short and long continuance,
activity, dulness, and incitation. And these are the genuine
parts of abstract physics, which wholly consists, — 1. In the
schemes of matter; 2. Simple motions; 3. The results or
sums of motions; and, 4. The measures of motions. As for
voluntary motion in animals, — the motion in the action ot
the senses, the motions of the imagination, appetite, and will,
the motion of mind, the determination, and other intellec
tual faculties, — they have their own proper doctrines under
which we range them, confining the whole of physics to
matter and efficient, and assigning over forms and ends to
metaphysics.

We must annex two remarkable appendages to physics,
with regard rather to the manner, than the matter of inquiry ;
viz., natural problems, and the opinions of the ancient philo
sophers. The first is an appendage of nature at large, and
the other of nature united or summed up ; both relating to
a diligent kind of doubting, which is no contemptible part Oi
knowledge. Now, problems contain particular doubts and
opinions, general ones, as to principles and structure. In the
books of Aristotle we have a noble example of problems,
deserving not only the praises but the imitation of posterity,
since new doubts are daily arising. But the utmost caution
is to be used in such an undertaking. The recording and
proposing of doubts has two advantages; the one, as it
defends philosophy against errors, when that which is not
clear is neither judged nor asserted, lest error thus should
multiply error, but judgment is suspended upon it, and not
made positive ; the other is, that doubts once registered iira

136 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK nr.

like so nlttiiy sponges, which perpetually suck and draw to
themselves the increases of knowledge ; whence those things
which would have been slightly passed over, unless they had
been doubted of before, come now from this very doubting
to be more attentively considered. But these two advantages
will scarce balance this single inconvenience, unless well pro
vided against ; viz., that when a doubt is once admitted for
just, and becomes, as it were, authentic, it presently raises
up disputants on both sides, who transmit to posterity the
same liberty of doubting still ; so that men seem to apply their
wits rather to nourish, the doubt than solve it. 'And of this
we everywhere meet with examples in lawyers and scholars ;
who, when a doubt once gains admittance, would have it
remain a doubt for ever, and engage themselves in doubting
as well as asserting ; whereas the true use of wit is to
render doubtful things certain, and not certain ones doubt
ful. And therefore I set down as wanting a calendar of
doubts or problems in nature, and recommend it to be under
taken, with care to blot out daily, as knowledge increases,
those that are clearly discussed and settled. And this calen
dar we would have attended with another of no less utility ;
for as in every inquiry there are things plainly true, things
doubtful, and things plainly false, it were exceeding proper
that along with a calendar of doubts should go a calendar of
falsehoods and vulgar errors, both in natural history and
opinions, that they may no longer disturb the sciences.

As to the opinions of the ancient philosophers, for example
those of Pythagoras, Philolaus, Xenophanes, Anaxagoras,
Parmenides, Leucippus, Democritus, and others, which men
usually pass slightly over, it is proper to cast a modest eye
upon them. For though Aristotle, after the Ottoman
manner, thought he could not reign secure without putting
all his brethren to death, yet those who do not affect
dominion and rule, but the inquiry and illustration of truth,
will find their account in beholding, at one view, the different
opinions of different philosophers, as to the nature of things.
But there is no room to expect any pure truth from these or
the like theories : for as the celestial appearances are solved
both upon the suppositions of Ptolemy and Copernicus ; so
common experience, and the obvious face of things, may bo
applied to many different theories : whilst a much stricter

CHAP. IV.] HISTORY OF THE ANCIENT PHILOSOPHIES. 13?

procedure is required in the right discovery of truth. For
as Aristotle accurately remarks, that children, when they
first begin to speak, call every woman mother ; but after
wards learn to distinguish their own :° so a childish ex
perience calls every philosophy its mother, but when grown
up, will easily distinguish its time one. In the mean time,
it is proper to read the disagreeing philosophies, as so many
different glosses of nature. We could therefore wish there
were, with care and judgment, drawn up a work of the
ancient philosophies,? from the lives of old philosophers,
Plutarch's collection of their opinions, the citations of Plato,
the confutations of Aristotle, and the scattered relations of
other books, whether ecclesiastical or heathen; as Lactantius,
Philo, Philostratus, <kc. For such a work is not yet extant ;
and we would advise it to be done distinctly ; so that each
philosophy be drawn out and continued separate, and not
ranged under titles and collections, as Plutarch has done.
For every philosophy, when entire, supports itself, and its
doctrines thus add light and strength to each other ; which,
if separated, sound strange and harsh. Thus, when we read"
in Tacitus the acts of Nero or Chiudius, clothed with the
circumstances of times, persons, and occasions, everything
seems plausible ; but when the same are read in Suetonius,
distributed under chapters and common-places, and not
described in the order of time, they look monstrous, and
absolutely incredible. And the case is the same with philo
sophy proposed entire, and dismembered, or cut into articles.
Nor do we exclude from this calendar the modern theories
and opinions, as those of Paracelsus, elegantly reduced by

0 Aristotle's Physics.

* The work here proposed is of vast extent, and a fit undertaking for
a society, as intended to include all the ancient and modern systems of
philosophy, or the history of knowledge through all ages and countries.
Considerable progress has, however, been made in it, particularly by
Vossius "De Philosophia, et Philosophorum Sectis," continued -with a
supplement by Russel, printed at Jena, in the year 1705 ; by Panci-

M. Bayle in his " Dictionary," &c. For more collections, histories, and
writings to this purpose, see " Struvii Bibliotheca Philosophica,"
Morhofs "Pclyhistor," and "StoL'i Introdrcfo in Hist^riara Liti«
rariam." Shaw.

138 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK III

Severinus into a body and harmony of philosophy ; or of
Telcsius, who, in restoring the philosophy of Parmenides, has
turned their own weapons against the Peripatetics ; or of
Gilbert, who revived the doctrines of Fhilolaus ; or of any
other, provided he be worthy. But as there are whole
volumes of these authors extant, we would only have the
result drawn out and joined to the rest. And so much for
physics and its appendages.

To metaphysics we assign the inquiry of formal and final
causes. But an opinion lias prevailed, as if the essential
forms, or real differences of things, were absolutely undis-
coverable by human means ; granting, at the same time, that
if they could be discovered, this, of all the parts of knowledge,
would be the most worthy of inquiry. As to the possibility
of the thing, there are indolent discoverers, who see nothing
but sea and sky, absolutely deny there can be any land beyond
them. But it in manifest that Plato, a man of a sublime
genius, who took a view of everything as from a high rock,
saw in his doctrine of ideas, that '''forms were the true object
of knowledge ;'>(i though he lost the advantage of this just
opinion by contemplating and grasping at forms totally
abstracted from matter, and not as determined in it ;r whence
he turned aside to theological speculations, and therewith
infected all his natural philosophy. But if with diligence,
seriousness, and sincerity, we turn our eyes to action and use,
we may find, and become acquainted with those forms, the
knowledge whereof will wonderfully enrich and prosper
human affairs.

The forms of substances, indeed, viz. the species of crea
tures,8 are so complicated and interwoven, that the inquiry
into them is either vain, or should be laid aside for a time,
and resumed after the forms of a more simple nature have
been duly sifted and discovered. For as it were neither easy
nor useful to discover the form of a sound that shall make
a word, since words, by the composition and transpositions

i In the Timgcus, passim, et Eep. x. init. Cf. Hooker, i. 3, 4 ; com
pare also Hallam's Literature of Europe, part iii. c. 3, p. 402.

r As Mr. Boyle has excellently shown, by a large induction of experi
ments and crucial instances, wherewith most of his physical inquiries
we enriched.

• As plants, animals, minerals ; the elements fire, air, water, earth, &a

CHAP. IV.] DIVISION OF METAPHYSICS 13D

of letters are infinite ; but practicable, easy, and useful to
discover the form of a sound expressing a single letter, or
by what collision or application of the organs of the voice,
it was made ; and as these forms of letters being known, AVC
are thence directly led to inquire the forms of words : so, to
inquire the lorm of an oak, a lion, gold, water, or air, were
at present vain ; but to inquire the form of density, rarity,
heat, cold, gravity, levity, and other schemes of matter and
motions, which, like the letters of the alphabet, are few in
number, yet make and support the essences and forms of all
substances, is what we would endeavour after, as constituting
«,nd determining that part of metaphysics we are now upon.

Nor does this hinder physics from considering the same
natures in their fluxile causes only ; thus, if the cause of
whiteness in snow, or froth, were inquired into, it is judged
to be a subtile intermixture of air with water ; but this is
far from being the form of whiteness, since air intermixed
with powdered glass or ciystal is also judged to produce
whiteness no less than when mixed with water : this, there
fore, is only the efficient cause, and no other than the vehicle
of the form. But if the inquiry be made in metaphysics, it
will be found that two transparent bodies, intermixed in
their optical portions, and in a simple order, make whiteness.
This part of metaphysics I find defective ; and no wonder ;
because in the method of inquiry hitherto used, the forms of
things can never appear. The misfortune lies here, that men
have accustomed themselves to hurry away, and abstract
their thoughts too hastily, and carry them too remote from
experience and particulars, and have given themselves wholly
up to their own meditations and arguments.

The use of this part of metaphysics is recommended by
two principal things : first, as it is the office and excellence
of all sciences to shorten the long turnings and windings of
experience, so as to remove the ancient complaint of the
scantiness of life, and the tediousness of art ;* this is be.st
performed by collecting and uniting the axioms of the
sciences into more general ones, that shall suit the matter of
all individuals. For the sciences are like pyramids, erected
upon the single basis of history and experience, and therefore

1 Compare Plat. Thoeet. L 155, 156.

140 ADVANCEMENT OP LEAttMKG. [BOOK III.

a history of nature is, 1. the basis of natural philosophy ;
and 2. the first stage from the basis is physics ; and 3. that
nearest the vertex metaphysics ; but 4. for the vertex itself,
" the work which God worketh from the beginning to the
end,"u or the summary law of nature, we doubt whether
human inquiry can reach it. But for the other three, they
are the true stages of the sciences, and are used by those
men who are inflated by their own knowledge, and a daring
insolence, as the three hills of the giants to invade heaven.

" Ter sunt cor.ati imponere Pelio Ossam

Scilicet, atque Ossae frondosum involvere Olympum."*

But to the humble and the meek they are the three acclama
tions, Sanctus, sauctus, sanctus ; for God is holy in the
multitude of his works, as well as in their order and union, y
and therefore the speculation was excellent in Parmenidea
and Plato, that all things by defined gradations ascend to
unity.2 And as that science is the most excellent, which
least burthens the understanding by its multiplicity ; this
property is found in metaphysics, as it contemplates those
simple forms of things, density, rarity, &c., which we call
forms of the first class ; for though these are few, yet, by
their commensurations and co-ordinations, they constitute all
truth.

The second thing that ennobles this part of metaphysics,
relating to forms, is, that it releases the human power, and
leads it into an immense and open field of work ; for physics
direct us through narrow rugged paths, in imitation of the
crooked ways of ordinary nature ; but the ways of wisdom,
Vrliich were anciently defined as "rerum divinarum et huma-
narum scientia,"a are everywhere wide, and abounding in
plenty, and variety of means. Physical causes, indeed, by
means of new inventions, afford light and direction in a like
case again ; but he that understands a form knows the
ultimate possibility of superinducing that nature upon all
kinds of matter, and is therefore the less restrained or tied
down in his working, either as to the basis of the matter or
the condition of the efficient. Solomon also describes this

• Eoclea. iii. 1. * Virgil, Georgics, i. 281. 7 Apocalypse iv,
f See conclusion of the Dialogue entitled Parmenides.

• Plato'.s Phaedo ; Cicero, Tuscul. Quaest. 4, Defin. 2.

CHAP. IV.] FINAL CAUSES, HOW ABUSED. 141

kind of knowledge, though in a more divine manner: "Non
arctabuntur gressus tui, et currens non habebis offendiculum."6
Thus denoting that the paths of wisdom are not liable to
straits and perplexities.

The second part of metaphysics, is the inquiry of final
causes, which we note not as wanting, but as ill-placed ; these
causes being usually sought in physics, notin metaphysics, to
the great prejudice of philosophy ; for^ne treating of final
causes in physics has driven out the inquiry of physical ones,
and made men rest in specious and shadowy causes, without
ever searching in earnest after such as are real and trulj
physical. / And this was not only done by Plalo^ who con-
stantly imchors upon this shore ; but by Aristotle, 'Galen,
and others, who frequently introduce such causes as these :
" The hairs of the eyelids are for a fence to the sight.0 The
bones for pillars whereon to build the bodies of animals.
The leaves of trees are to defend the fruit from the sun and
wind. The clouds are designed for watering the earth," <fec.
/All which are properly alleged in metaphysics ; but in
physics are impertinent, and as remoras to the ship, that
hinder the sciences from holding on their course of improve
ment, and introducing a neglect of searching after physical
causes. And therefore the natural philosophies of Democritus
and others, who allow no God or mind in the frame of things,
but attribute the structure of the universe to infinite essays
and trials of nature, or what they call fate or fortune, and
assigned the causes of particular things to the necessity of
matter without any intermixture of final causes, seem, so far
as we can judge from the remains of their philosophy, much
more solid, and to have gone deeper into i^ature^wjth regard
to physical causes, than the philosophy of Aristotle or Plato;
and this only because they never meddled with final causes,
which the others were perpetually inculcating. Though in
this respect Aristotle is more culpable than Plato, as banish
ing Gocl,d the fountain of final causes, and substituting nature

b Prov. iv. 12. c Cf. e. g. Arist. Phys. ii. 8.

a From the text it must not be judged that Aristotle invested nature
with the general powers usually attributed to a divine intelligence, in
designing and executing her various ends with wisdom and precision, but
only that he regarded nature as an active and intelligent principle per
forming her agencies by means palpable to hersell, yet according to tht1
laws and faculties couterred upon h< r by UIH prijue mover ol' things. Th«

142 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK III.

in his stead j and, at the same time, receiving final causes
through his affection to logic, not theology. /

These final causes, however, are not false, or unworthy of
inquiry in metaphysics, but their excursion into the limits of
physical causes hath made a great devastation in that pro
vince ; otherwise, when contained within their own bounds,

Spinozist principle -which the text attributes to the Stagyrite has been
understood by many critics 01 the sensational school to intimate that
Aristotle was of their way of thinking, though the idea of an independent
material intelligence is expressly contradicted by numerous passages in
liis Metaphysics. In book xii. chap. 5, of the works which go under
this name, the principal being is held to exclude the idea oi matter from
his nature: tTi roivvv ravraz cti ouaiag ilvai dvev v\i]Q' aidiovg yap
cd' K.r.X.; and (ibid. 8) TO CE TI ijv tivai OVK t\ti v\r)v TO irpuirov'
ivTt\i%tia y«p. In chap. 7 he affirms this principle to be spirit, — "PX7/
•>! vor)ai£; that matter cannot move oi itself, but needs the action ol an
ex cerior agent, — ou yap r) ye vXrj Kivrjnu av~>} iavrrjv, dXXd rtK-oviKi}'
and that this principle must be eternal and active, — 'Aiciov KOI ovvia
Kai ivipytia ovaa. Aristotle further proceeds to show that all other
beings are only a species of means transmitting the motion to others
which have been communicated to them, but that this primary being,
possessing the spring of motion in itself, moves without being moved;
illustrating this kind of action by the emotions and deeds that spring from
the love, pity, or hatred that agents at rest excite in others. In another
place he affirms that this being is not only eternal in duration but
immutable in essence, and quite distinct from sensible things: on jap
tanv ovaia TIQ ciiciof /cat d<ii'T]TOQ teal Kf%(i)pi(f}ikvr} TMV ala9r)Ti!ji>,
Qai'tpuv tK TCjv flptjutvidV and that heaven and nature hang upon its
behests, — in Toiavrjjg dpa ap^iis ?/pr^rai o ovpavog »cai ?'/ <J>VGIQ. He
further shows that life belongs to it by essence, and as the action of
intelligence is life, and vice versa, essential action constitutes the eternal
life of this being. Aristotle then calls this independent principle Goa,
and assigns to it endless duration: Qautv ce TOV 9EO'N ilvm %wov «t£toi/
apiarov. "It remains," says the Stagyrite, "to determine whether
this principle be one or several ; but upon this point we need only
remember that those who have decided for a plurality have advanced
nothing worthy of consideration in support of their belief." — 'AXXd
fjLtUvfiaOai Kai rag rOJv aXXw>' «7ro0a(Tti(; ore Trtpi 7T\j']9ovQ ovct (.loi'i-
Kaaiv o TI Kai aatyic; tiirtivt (Ibid. chap. 8.) "For the principle oi exist
ence, or the immovable being which is the source of all movement,
being pure action, and consequently foreign to matter, is one in reason
and number .... all the rest is the creation of a mythology invented
by politicians to advance the public interest and occupy the attention of
mankind." To Ce. TI ijv tlvai OVK t\ti V\TJV TO Trpurov ivTi\i\tia yap.
(Supp. note 1.) "E^/ity dpa Kai Xoyy Kai apifyup TO Trpwrov icivouv
dxivijTov. (Ibid. chap. 8.) Ta dk Xoi/ra p,vOiKu>^ 7/0^ Trpodrj^O?; Trpog rfjv

TTllQij) TWV 7TO\\MV Kttl 7Tp6f T)]V tl£ TOVf VOUOV£ Kttl TO

\pf]<riv. (Ibid.) Ed.

CHAF. IV. J FINAL CAUSES, WHEN LEGITIMATE. 143

they are i\ot repugnant to physical causes ; for the cause,
that " the hairs of the eyelids are to presprve the sight," is
no way contradictory to this, that " pilosity is incident to the
orifices of moisture/' — " Muscosi fontes," &c. ;e nor docs the
cause which assigns the firmness of hides in beasts to a pro
tection against the injuries of extreme weather, militate
against the other cause, which attributes the firmness to the
contraction of the pores on the exterior of the skin, through
cold and deprivation of air ; and so of the rest : these two
kinds of causes agreeing excellently together ; the one ex
pressing the intention, and the other the consequence only.

Nor does this call Divine Providence in question, but
rather highly confirms and exalts it ; for as he is a greater
politician, who can make others the instruments of his will,
without acquainting them with his designs, than he who
discloses himself to those he employs ; so the wisdom of God
appears more wondrous, when nature intends one thing, and
Providence draws out another, than if the characters ot
Providence were stamped upon all the schemes of matter and
natural motions. So Aristotle had no need of a God, after
having once impregnated nature with final causes, and laid
it down that "nature does nothing in vain ; always obtains
her ends when obstacles are removed," f ike. But Democritus
and Epicurus, when they advanced their atoms, were thus far
tolerated by some, but when they asserted the fabric of all
things to be raised by a fortuitous concourse of these atoms,
without the help of mind, they became universally ridiculous.
So far are physical causes from drawing men off from God
and Providence, that, on the contrary, the philosophers
employed in discovering them can find no rest, but by flying
to God or Providence at last.

• Yirg. l&logues, vii. 46. ' Aristotle on the Heavens, L

144 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IIL

CHAPTER V.

DivisioL 3f the Practical Branch of Natural Philosophy into Mechanics
and Magic (Experimental Philosophy), which correspond to the Spe
culative Division — Mechanics to Physics, and Magic to Metaphysics.
The word Magic cleared from False Interpretation. Appendix to
Active Science twofold : viz., an Inventory of Human Helps and a
Catalogue of Things of Multifarious Use.

THE practical doctrine of nature we likewise necessarily
divide into two parts, corresponding to those of speculative ;
for physics, or the inquiry of efficient and material causes,
produces mechanics ; and metaphysics, the inquiry of forms,
produces magic; whilst the inquiry of final causes is a barren
thing, or as a virgin consecrated to God. We here under
stand that mechanics which is coupled with physical causes;
for besides the bare effective or empirical mechanics, which
has no dependence on physics, and belongs to natural his
tory, there is another not absolutely operative, and yet not
strictly philosophical For all discoveries of works either
had their rise from accident, and so were handed down from
age to age, or else were sought by design ; and the latter
were either discovered by the light of causes and axioms, or
acquired by extending, transferring, or compounding some
former inventions, which is a thing more ingenious and saga
cious than philosophical. But the mechanics here under
stood is that treated by Aristotle promiscuously, by Hero in
his Pneumatics, by that very diligent writer in metallics,
George Agricola, and by numerous others in particular sub
jects ; so that we have no omission to note in this point, only
that the miscellaneous mechanics, after the example of Aris
totle, should have been more carefully continued by the
moderns, especially with regard to such contrivances whose
causes are more obscure, or their effects more noble; whereas
th writers upon these subjects hitherto have only coasted
along the shore, — "premendo littus iniquum."a And it appears
to us that scarce anything in nature can be fundamentally
discovered, either by accident, experimental attempts, or the
light of physical causes, but only by the discovery of forms.6
Since, therefore, we have set down as wanting that part of

ft Hor. Odes, b. ii. ode x. 3.

b Bacon means by iorms geneial laws which co-operate, with certarj
igentr1 in producing the qualities of bodies. S/iau\

ntlr. V.] JUTURAL MAGIC, 145

metaphysics which treats of forms, it follows that natural
magic, which is relative to it, must also be wanting.

We here understand magic in its ancient and honourable
sense, — among the Persians it stood for a sublimer wisdom,
or a knowledge of the relations of universal nature, as may
be observed in the title ot those kings who came from the
East to adore Christ. And in the same sense we would have
it signify that science, which leads to the knowledge of hidden
forms, for producing great effects, and by joining agents to
patients setting the capital works of nature to view. The
common natural magic found in books gives us only some
childish and superstitious traditions and observations of the
sympathies and antipathies of things, or occult and specific
properties, which are usually intermixed with many trifling
experiments, admired rather for their disguise than for them
selves; but as to the truth of nature, this differs from the
science we propose as much as the romances of Arthur of
Britain, Hugh of Bordeaux, or other imaginary heroes, do
from the Commentaries of Caesar in truth of narration.
Caesar in reality performed greater things, though not by
romantic means, than such fabulous heroes are feigned to do.
This kind of learning is well represented by the fable of
Ixion,c who, thinking to enjoy Juno, the goddess of power,
embraced a cloud, and thence produced centaurs and chi-
mseras ; for so those who, with a hot and impotent desire,
are carried to such things as they see only through the
fumes and clouds of imagination, instead of producing works,
beget nothing but vain hopes and monstrous opinions. This
degenerate natural magic has also an effect like certain
sleepy medicines which procure pleasing dreams; for so it
first lays the understanding asleep, by introducing specific
properties and occult virtues, — whence men are no longer
attentive to the discovery of real causes, but rest satisfied in
such indolent and weak opinions; and thus it insinuates
numberless pleasing fictions, like so many dreams.

And here we may properly observe, that those sciences
which depend too much upon fancy and faith, as this dege
nerate magic, alchymy, and astrology, have their means and
their theory more monstrous than their end and action.
The conversion of quicksilver into gold is hard to conceive,

c Find. Pyth. ii. 21.
o

- L

H6 ADVANCEMENT Otf LfiARKtNG. [fcOOfc 111,

though it may much more probably be effected by a man
acquainted with the nature of gravity, colour, malleability,
fixedness, volatility, the principles of metals and menstruums,
than by one who is ignorant of these natures, by the bare
projection of a few grains of the elixir. The same may be
understood of the prolongation of youth or retarding of old
age, which may more rationally be expected by dietary, re
gimen, bathings, anointing, and proper medicines, directed
by an accurate knowledge of the human frame, the nature of
rarefaction, sustention, assimilation, and the reciprocal action
of the mind upon the body, than by a few drops or scruples
of some precious liquor or quintessence. But men are so
headstrong and notional, as not only to promise themselves
things impossible, but also hope to obtain the most difficult
ends without labour or exertion.

This practical doctrine of nature requires two appendages
of very great consequence. The first is, that an inventory
be made of the stock of mankind, containing their whole
possessions and fortunes, whether proceeding from nature or
art, with the addition also of things formerly known, but
now lost ; so that he who goes upon new discoveries may
have a knowledge of what lias already been done. This
inventory will be the more artificial and useful, if it also
contain things of every kind, which, according to common
opinion, are impossible ; as likewise such as seemed next to
impossible, yet have been effected, the one to whet the
human invention, and the other to direct it, so that from
these optatives and potentials actives may the more readily
be deduced.

The second thing is, that a calendar be made of such ex
periments as are most extensively useful, and that lead to
the discovery of others. For example, the experiment of
artificial freezing, by means of ice and bay salt, is of infinite
extent, and discovers a secret method of condensation of great
service to mankind ; fire is ready at hand for rarefaction,
but the means of condensation are wanted. And it would
greatly shorten the way to discoveries, to have a particular
catalogue of thebe leading experime nts.

CHAP, vi.] At) VANTAGES OF MATHEMATICS. 147

CHAPTER VI.

Tlie Great Appendix of Natural Philosophy both Speculative and Prac
tical. Mathematics. Its Proper Position not among the Substantial
Sciences, but in their Appendix. Mathematics divided into Pure
und Mixed.

IT was well observed by Aristotle, that physics and ma
thematics produce practice, or mechanics ;a therefore, as we
have treated both the speculative and practical part of the
doctrine of nature, we should also consider mathematics as
an auxiliary science to both, which being revived into philo
sophy, comes in as a third part after physics and metaphysics.
But upon due recollection, if we designed it as a substantial
and principal science, it were more agreeable to method and
the nature of the thing to make it a part of metaphysics.
For quantity, the subject of mathematics applied to matter,
is as the dose of nature, and productive of numerous effects
in natural things, and therefore ought to be reckoned among
essential forms. And so much did the power of figures and
numbers prevail with the ancients, that Democritus chiefly
placed the principles of the variety of things in the figures
of their atoms ;b and Pythagoras asserted that the nature of
things consisted of numbers.0 Thus much is true, that of
natural forms, such as we understand them, quantity is the
most abstracted and separable from matter; and for this
reason it has been more carefully cultivated and examined
into by mankind than any other forms, which are all of
them more immersed in matter. For, as to the great disad-
^'imtage of the sciences, it is natural for men's minds to
delight more in the open fields of generals, than in the in-
closures of particulars, nothing is found more agreeable than
mathematics, which fully gratifies this appetite of expatiating
und ranging at large. But as we regard not only truth and
order, but also the benefits and advantages of mankind, it
seems best, since mathematics is of great use in physics,
metaphysics, mechanics, and magics, to make it an appendage
or auxiliary to them all. And this we are in some measure
obliged to do, from the fondness and towering notions of
mathematicians, who would have their science preside over

• Metaphysics, i. and xi. b Laertius, Life of Democritua.

c lanablicus, Life of Pythagoras.

I.!

148 ADVANCEMENT OP LEAttNlNO. [600k fit

physics. It is a strange fatality, that mathematics and
logic, which ought to be but handmaids to physics, should
boast their certainty before it, and even exercise dominion
against it. But the place and dignity of this science, is a
secondary consideration with regard to the thing itself.

Mathematics is either pure or mixed. To the pure belong
the sciences employed about quantity, wholly abstracted
from matter and physical axioms. This lias two parts, —
geometry and arithmetic ; the one regarding continued, and
the other discrete quantity. These two sciences have been
cultivated with very great subtilty and application ; but in
plain geometry there has nothing considerable been added
to the labours of Euclid, though he lived many ages since.
The doctrine of solids has not been prosecuted and extended
equal to its use and excellency, neither by the ancients nor
the moderns ; and in arithmetic there is still wanting a suffi
cient variety of short and commodious methods of calcula
tion, especially with regard to progressions, whose use in
physics is very considerable.*1 Neither is algebra brought to

d In nature no two beings exist perfectly equal, and the same being
cannot retain its qualities unchanged for an instant ot time together.
In the universe everything moves in a constant progression and series,
and it probably was the presentiment of this truth that led the greatest,
mathematicians after Bacon's time to turn nearly all their attention to
this department of mathematics. Beyond the analogy, however, there
is nothing in these phenomena which has any relation with the reality
of things ; nor have any philosophers since Find's day ever dealt with
them except as pure conditional verities. With data sufficiently deter
minate, we may approach the solution of any question to which they
refer; but if these facts are not given, the problem must remain unre
solved. The mathematician may draw consequences ; but it is not
allowed him to form principles, and if he attempt to apply figures to
any hypothesis not warranted by facts, he must be content with the
fate of the Scimian who constructed the world out of arithmetic, and
Las been rewarded by the derision of ages for his pains.

No part of learning has perhaps been more cultivated since this
author wrote than mathematics, as every other science, or the body of
philosophy itself, seems rendered mathematical. The doctrine of solids
'T'«ns been improved by several ; the shorter ways of calculation here
Rioted as deficient are in a great measure supplied by the invention
•if logarithms. Algebra has been so far improved and applied as to
sival, or almost prejudice, the ancient geometry; add to this the new
«vjgcoveries of the Method of Fluxions, the Method of Tangents, the
Doctrine of Infinites, the Squaring of Curves, &c. For the general
Astern of mathematical learning, see " VVoltii Eleinenta Matheseos Un>

CHAP. VI.] PURE AND MIXED MATHEMATICS. 149

perfection. As for the Pythagorical and mystical arithmetic,
which began to be recovered from Proclus,6 and certain
remains of Euclid, it is a speculative excursion, the mind
having this misfortune, that when it proves unequal to solid
and useful things, it spends itself upon such as are unpro
fitable.

Mixed mathematics has for its subject axioms and the
parts of physics, and considers quantity so far as may be
assisting to illustrate, demonstrate, and actuate those; for
without the help of mathematics many parts of nature could
neither be sufficiently comprehended, clearly demonstrated,
nor dexterously fitted for use. And of this kind are per
spective, music, astronomy, cosmography, architecture, and
mechanics. In mixed mathematics we at present find no
entire parts deficient, but foretell there will be many found
hereafter, if men are not wanting to themselves; for if phy
sics be daily improving, and drawing out ne\v axioms, it will
continually be wanting fresh assistances from mathematics;
so that the parts of mixed mathematics must gradually grow
more numerous.

We have now gone through the physical sciences, am*
marked out the waste ground in them. If, however, we
have departed from the ancient and received opinions, and
arrayed opponents against us, we have not affected contra
diction, and therefore will not enter into the lists of conten
tion. If we have spoken the truth,

" Non caniinus surdis ; respondent omnia sylvae,"f —
the voice of nature will cry it up, though the voice ot
man should cry it down ; and as Alexander Borgia was wont
to say of the expedition of the French against Naples, that
they came with chalk in their hands to mark up their lodg-

versse," in two volumes 4to., printed at Halle in the year 1715 ; or for a
more cursory view, Father Castel's " Mathe'matique Universelle," pub
lished in the year 1731 ; but for the history of mathematics, see Vossius
" De Universoe Matheseos Natura et Constitutione ;" the "Almagest" of
Ricciolus; Morhof's " Polyhist. Mathemat. ;" and Wolfius's " Commen-
tatio de Scriptis Mathematicis," at the end oi the second volume of his
" Elementa Matheseos Universae;" Montucla's "Hist. Math.;" and De
la Croix's " Analysis ol Infinites." Ld.

e He ought to have said Irom lamblicus. Proclus was, like himself,
totally ignorant even, of thQ little mathematical learning extant io Uif
day. .£'<« < Virg. Ecioguea, x. $,

150 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK IVi

ings, and not with weapons to fight, so we prefer that entry
of truth which comes peaceably, when the minds of men
capable of lodging so great a guest are signed as it were with
chalk, than that which conies with pugnacity, and forces its
way by contentions and controversies. Wherefore, having
gone through the two parts of philosophy that relate to God
and to Nature, we come to the third, which is man himself.

POURTH BOOK.

CHAPTEK I.

Division of the Knowledge of Man into Human and Civil Philosophy.
Human Philosophy divided into the Doctrine of the Body and Soul.
The Construction of one General Science, including the Nature and
State of Man. The latter divided into the Doctrine of the Human
Person and the Connection of the Soul with the Body. Division of
the Doctrine of the Person of Man into that of his Miseries and Pre
rogatives. Division of the Relations between the Soul and the Body
into the Doctrines of Indications and Impressions. Physiognomy and
the Interpretation of Dreams assigned to the Doctrine of Indications.

IP any man, excellent king, shall assault or wound me for
any of these precepts, let him know that he infringes tho
code of military honour ; for in addition to being under the
gracious protection of your Majesty, I do not begin the
fight, but am only one of those trumpeters of whom Homer
speaks, —

XritjOfrt K)7pufC£f Aiot; ayyfXot, rj8e. Kal avCptZv,* —

who pass inviolate even between enraged armies. Nor does
our trumpet summon men to tear one another in frenzied
combat, but rather to conclude a peace, that they who are
now divided may direct their united forces against nature
herself; and by taking her high towers and dismantling her
fortified holds, enlarge as far as God will permit the bor
ders of man's dominion. "We now come to the knowledge of
ourselves, whither we are directed by the ancients,b which

• Iliad, i. 334. ° Plato's Alcibiadea.

CHAP. I.] THE DOCTRINE OF MAN TWOFOLD. 151

merits a closer examination, since the knowledge of himself
is to man the end and time of the sciences, of which naturo
only forms a portion. And here we must admonish man
kind, that all divisions of tho sciences are to be understood
arid employed, so as only to mark out and distinguish, not
tear, separate, or make any solution of continuity in their
body ;c the contrary practice having rendered particular
sciences barren, empty, and erroneous, whilst they are not
fed, supported, and kept right by their common parent.
Thus we find Cicero complaining of Socrates, that he first
disjoined philosophy from rhetoric, which is thence become
a frothy, talkative art.d And it is likewise evident, that
although the opinion of Copernicus about the earth's rota
tion cannot be confuted by astronomical principles, because
it agrees with phenomena, yet it may easily be exploded by
natural philosophy. In like manner the art of medicine,
without the assistance of natural philosophy, differs but little
from empiricism.

The doctrine of man divides itself into two parts, or into
human and civil philosophy, as it considers man separate, or
joined in society. Human philosophy consists in the sciences
that regard the body, and those that regard the soul of man.
But before we descend to a more particular distribution, it
is proper to make one general science of the nature and
state of man, which certainly deserves to be freed from the
rest, and reduced to a science by itself. And this will con
sist of such things as are common both to the body and tho
soul. It may, likewise, be divided into two parts ; viz., ac
cording to the individual nature of man, and the connection
of the soul and body. The former we call the doctrine of
the person of man, and the other the doctrine of union. All
which, being common and mixed matters, cannot be sepa
rately referred to the sciences that regard the body, nor to
those that regard the soul.

The doctrine of the human person principally consists in
two things : the consideration of the miseries of mankind,
and its prerogatives or excellencies* There are many
writings, both philosophical and theological, that elegantly
and copiously bewail the human miseries, and it is an agree*

« Seneca'a Epistles, § 89. ' Pe Orators

152 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK I?.

able and wholesome topic ; but the prerogatives of man
kind are not hitherto described. Pindar, in his praise of
Hiero, says, with his usual elegance, that he cropped the tops
of every virtue;0 and methinks it would greatly contribute
to the encouragement and honour of mankind, to have these
tops, or utmost extents of human nature, collected from faith
ful history : I mean the greatest length whereto human
nature of itself has ever gone, in the several endowments of
body and mind. Thus it is said of Ca3sar,f that he could
dictate to five amanuenses at once. "VVe read, also, of the
ancient rhetoricians, as Protagoras and Gorgias ; and of the
ancient philosophers, as Callisthenes, Possidonius, and Car-
neades, who could with eloquence and copiousness dispute off
hand, on either side of an argument, 8 which shows the
power of the mind to advantage. So does, also, what Cicero
relates of his master Archias, viz., that he could make ex
tempore a large number of excellent verses upon the com
mon transactions of life. It is a great honour to the memory,
that Cyrus or Scipio could call so many thousands of men by
their names.1' Nor are the victories gained in the moral
virtues less signal than tliose of the intellectual faculties.
"What an example of patience is that of Anaxarchus, who,
when put to the torture, bit off his own tongue, and spit it
in the tyrant's face ! Nor, to come to our own times, is that
a less example of scorn of suffering, which the murderer of
the prince of Orange displayed in the midst of his tortures.
This Burgimdian, though scourged with iron thongs and torn
with red-hot pincers, did not heave a sigh ; and when a broken
fragment of the scaffold fell on the heads of one of the by
standers, he, even girt around with flames, could not repress
his laughter. We have many instances of great serenity and
Composure of mind at the time of death, as particularly in
r,he centurion mentioned by Tacitus, who being bid by his
..xecutioner to stretch out his neck, valiantly replied, " I
would thou wouldst strike as strongly."1 John, duke of
Saxony, k whilst playing at chess, received the order for his

* Pindar, Olymp. i. The triumphs of men, and the summits of
uuman nature. f Suetonius's Lit 3.

£ Quintilian's Institutes, iii., and Laertius's Lives.
'' Xenophon's Cyroptedia, v. ; and Quintilian's Institutes, xi.
1 Annals, xv. G7.

k Meteren, History of the Civil Wars in Vbe Netherlands.

CHAP. I.] ACTION OF THE BODY UPON THE SOUL. 153

execution the following day ; whereupon, turning round to
one that stood by him, he said, with a smile, " Judge, whether
so far I am not the winner of the game. For as soon as I
am dead, he," pointing to his antagonist, " will say that the
game was his own." Sir Thomas More, the day before his
execution, being waited upon by his barber, to know if he
would have his hair off, refused it ; with this answer, that
" the king and he had a dispute about his head, and till that
were ended he would bestow no cost upon it." And even
when he had laid his head upon the block, he raised himself
again a little, and gently putting his long beard aside, said,
" This surely has not offended the king." By these examples
it will appear that the miracles of human nature, and the
utmost powers and faculties, both of mind and body, are
what we would have collected into a volume, that should be
a kind of register of human triumphs. And with regard to
such a work, we commend the design of Valerius Maximus
and Pliny, but not their care and choice.

The doctrine of union, or of the common tie of soul and
body, has two parts : for as, in all alliances, there is
mutual intelligence and mutual offices, so the union of the
mind and body requires a description of the manner wherein
they discover, and act upon each other by notices, or indica
tion and impression. The description by indication has pro
duced two arts of prediction : the one honoured with the
inquiry of Aristotle, and the other with that of Hippocrates.
And though later ages have debased these ails with super
stitious and fantastical mixtures, yet, when purged and
truly restored, they have a solid foundation in nature, and
use in life. The first of these is physiognomy, which, by the
lineaments of the body, discovers the dispositions of the
mind ; the second is the interpretation of natural dreams,
which, from the agitations of the mind, discovers the state
and dispositions of the body. I find the former deficient
in one part ; for though Aristotle has, with great ingenuity
and diligence, treated the structure of the body at rest, he
dropped the consideration of it in motion or gesture,1 which is
no less subject to the observations of art, and more useful

1 Bacon's memory here foils him ; for Aristotle in his Physiogno-
mia Corporis in Motu, has treated the master eUV>ntely, though
without going: much into detail £d,

154 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. ffiOOK IV.

than the other. For the lineaments of the body show the
general inclinations and dispositions of the mind, whilst tho
motions of the face, and the gestures of the other parts, not
only do the same, but also express the present disposition
and inclination : for, if I may use one of your Majesty 'H
most forcible and elegant expressions, "as the tongue applies
to the ear, so does gesture to the eye." And this is well.
known to many subtile and designing persons, who watch
fully observe the countenance and gestures of others, and
value themselves for their talent of turning such discoveries
to their own advantage ; and it must be acknowledged an
excellent way of discovering dissimulation in others, and of
admonishing men to choose proper times and opportunities
for their addresses, which is no small part of civil prudence.
A work upon this doctrine of gesture would not only prove
useful in particular cases, but serve as a general rule ; for all
men laugh, weep, blush, frown, &c., alike : and this holds of
nearly all the more subtile motions. But for chiromancy, it
is absolutely a vain thing, and unworthy to be mentioned
among those we are now treating.

The interpretation of natural dreams has been much
laboured ; but mixed with numerous extravagancies. We
shall here only observe of it, that at present it stands not
upon its best foundation ; which is, that where the same thing
happens from an internal cause, as also usually happens from
an external one, there the external action passes into a dream.
Thus the stomach may be oppressed by a groso internal
vapour, as well as by an external weight ; whence those who
have the night-mare dream that a weight is laid upon them,
with a great concurrence of circumstances. So, again, the
viscera being equally tossed by the agitation of the waves at
sea, as by a collection of wind in the hypochondria, henco
melancholy persons frequently dream of sailing and tossing
upon the waters ; and instances of this kind are numerous.

The second part of the doctrine of union, which we call
impression, is not yet reduced to an art ; and but occasionally
mentioned by writers. This also has two parts : as con
sidering, 1st, how, and to what degree, the humours arid
constitution of the body may affect the soul, or act upon it ;
and 2nd, how, and to what degree, the passions and appre
hensions of the soul may affect a.nd work upon the body.

CHAP. I.] ACTION OP THE SOUL. UPON THE BODY. 155

The first of these we sometimes find touched in medicine ;
but it has strangely insinuated itself into religion. Phy
sicians prescribe remedies for the diseases of the mind, viz.,
madness, melancholy, &c., as also to cheer the spirits,
strengthen the memory, (fee. ; but for diet, choice of meats
and drinks, washings, and other observances relating to the
body, they are found immoderately in the sect of the Pytha
goreans, the Manichean heresy, and the law of Mahomet
There are, also, numerous and strict ordinances in the cere
monial law, prohibiting the eating of blood and fat, and dis
tinguishing the unclean animals from the clean for food.1"
Even the Christian religion, though it has thrown off the
veil of ceremonies, still retains the use of fasting, abstinence,
and other things that regard the subjection and humiliation
of the body ; as things not merely ritual, but advantageous.
The root of all these ordinances, besides the ceremony and
exercise of obedience, is, that the soul should sympathize and
suffer with the body. And if any man of weaker judgment
thinks that such macerations question the immortality, or
derogate from the sovereignty of the soul, let him find an
answer in the instances, either of an infant in its mother's
womb, which shares in the vicissitudes, and yet is distinct
from its mother's body, or of monarchs, who, though in
possession of absolute power, are frequently influenced and
swayed by their servants.

The other part, which considers the operations of the soul
upon the body, has likewise been received into medicine •:
for every prudent physician regards the accidents of th?.
mind as a principal thing in his cures, that greatly pro
mote or hinder the effects of all other remedies. But one
particular has been hitherto slightly touched, or not well
examined, as its usefulness and abstruse nature require ;
viz., how far a fixed and riveted imagination may alter the
body of the imaginant ; for though this has a manifest power
to hurt, it does not follow, it has the same to relieve : no
more than because an air may be so pestilent as suddenly to
destroy, another air should be so wholesome as suddenly to
recover. This would be an inquiry of noble use ; but, as
Socrates would say, it requires a Deiian diver, for it is deep
plunged. n

m Deut. xii. • Laertius's Lita.

156 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV.

But among these doctrines of union, or consent of soul and
body, there is none more necessary than an inquiry into tho
proper seat and habitation of each faculty of the soul in
the body and its organs. Some, indeed, have prosecuted
this subject ; but all usually delivered upon it is either con
troverted or slightly examined, so as to require more pains
and accuracy. The opinion of Plato, which seats the under
standing in the brain, courage in the heart, and sensuality
in the liver, should neither be totally rejected nor fondly
received.0

CHAPTER II.

Division of the Knowledge of the Human Lody into the Medicinal,
Cosmetic, Athletic, and the Voluptuary Arts. Division of Medicine
into Three Functions : viz., the Preservation oi Health, the Cure of
Diseases, and the Prolongation oi. Life. The last distinct from the
two iormer.

THE doctrine of the human body divides itself according
to the perfections of the body, whereto it is subservient.
These perfections are four: viz., 1st, health; 2nd, comeliness;
3rd, strength ; and 4th, pleasure : to which correspond as
relatives: 1st, the arts of medicine; 2nd, beautifying; 3rd,
gymnastics ; and 4th, the art of elegance, which Tacitus calls
eruditurn luxum.a Medicine is a noble art, and honourably
descended, according to the poets, who make Apollo the
primary god, and his son ^Esculapius, whom they also deify,
the first professor thereof: for as, in natural things, the sun
is the author and fountain of life, so the physician, who
preserves life, seems a second origin thereof. But medicine
receives far greater honour from the works of our Saviour,
who was physician both to soul and body, and made the
latter the standing subject of his miracles, as the soul was
the constant subject of his doctrine.

Of all the things that nature has created, the human body
is most capable of relief, though this relief be the most liable
to error. For as the subtil ty and variety of the subject
affords many opportunities of cure, so likewise a great facility
of mistake. And, therefore, as this art, especially at present,

0 Plato's Tim&us, and Aristotle 03 the Geaeration of AuimaU
\vi, 18-

CHAP. II.] JtEfclCIKE MAINLY EMPIRIC, 157

stands among the most conjectural ones, so the inquiry intc
it is to be placed among the most subtile and difficult.
Keither are we so senseless as to imagine, with Paracelsus
and the alchymists, that there are to be found in man's
body definite analogies to all the variety of specific natures
in the world, perverting very impertinently that emblem of
the ancients, that man was a microcosm or model of the
whole world, to countenance their idle fancies. Of all natural
bodies, we find none so variously compounded as the human :
vegetables are nourished by earth and water ; brutes by
herbs and fruits ; but man feeds upon the flesh of living
creatures, herbs, grain, fruits, different juices and liquors ;
and these all prepared, preserved, dressed, and mixed in
endless variety. Besides, the way of living among other
creatures is more simple, and the affections that act upon
the body fewer and more uniform ; but man in his habi
tation, his exercises, passions. &c., undergoes numberless
changes. So that it is evident that the body of man is more
fermented, compounded, and organized, than any other
natural substance; the soul, on the other side, is the simplest,
as is well expressed : —

" purumqus reliquit

^Ethereum sensum, atque aurai simplicis ignem;"b —

so that we need not marvel that the soul so placed enjoys no
rest, since it is out of its place : " Motus rcrum extra locum
est rapidus, placidus in loco."c This variable and subtile
composition, and fabric of the human bodv, makes it like a
kind of curious musical instrument, easily disordered ; and
therefore, the poets justly joined music and medicine in
Apollo; because the office of medicine is to tune the curious
organ of the human body, and reduce it to harmony.

The subject being so variable has rendered the art more
conjectural, and left the more room for imposture. Other
arts and sciences are judged of by their power and ability,
and not by success or events. The lawyer is judged by the
ability of his pleading, not the issue of the cause ; the pilot,
by directing his course, and not by the fortune of the
voyage ; whilst the physician and statesman have no par
ticular act that clearly demonstrates their ability, but are

b Virg. ^Eneid, vi. 746. * Arist. on the Heaveos,

153 ADVANCEMENT Of LEARNING*. [BOOK It.

principally censured by the event, which is very UP just : fol*
who can tell, if a patient die or recover, or a state fall into
decay, whether the evil is brought about by art or by acci
dent ? Whence imposture is frequently extolled, and virtue
decried. Nay, the weakness and credulity of men is such,
that they often prefer a mountebank, or a cunning woman,
to a learned physician. The poets were clear-sighted in
discerning this folly, when they made .^Esculapius and Circe
brother and sister, and both children of Apollo, as in the
verses : —

" Ille repertorem medicines talis et artis,
Fulmine Phcebigenam Stygias detrusit ad undas:"

and similarly of Circe, daughter of the sun : —

" Dives inaccessia ubi Solis filia lucis

Urit odoratam nocturna in lumina cedrum."d

For in all times, witches, old women, and impostors, have, in
the vulgar opinion, stood competitors with physicians. And
hence physicians say to themselves, in the words of Solomon,
" If it befall to me, as befalleth to the fools, why should I
labour to be more wise?"6 And, therefore, one cannot
greatly blame them, that they commonly study scnie other
art, or science, more than their profession. Hence, we find
among them poets, antiquaries, critics, politicians, divines,
and in each more knowing than in medicine. Nor does this
fall out, because as a certain declamour against physicians
suggests/ being so often in contact with loathsome spectacles,
that they seize the first hour of leisure to draw their minds
from such contemplations. For as they are men — " Nihil
human! a se alienum patent" — no doubt, because they find
that mediocrity and excellency in their own art makes no
difference in profit or reputation : for men's impatience of
diseases, the solicitations of friends, the sweetness of life, and
the inducement of hope, make them depend upon physicians
with all their defects. But when this is seriously considered,
it turns rather to the reproach than the excuse of physicians,
who ought not hence to despair, but to use greater diligence.
For we see what a power the subtilty of the understanding
has over the variety both of the matter and form of things,

* .Eneid, vii. 772, 11. • Ecclea, ii. 15.

1 Agrippa, Scientia Vana.

CEAP. If.] PHYSICIANS* tfEGLECT OF PATHOLOGY. 159

There is nothing more variable than men's faces, yet we can
remember infinite distinctions of them ; and a painter with a
few colours, the practice of the hand and eye, and help of the
imagination, could imitate thousands if brought before him.
As variable as voices are, yet we can easily distinguish them
in different persons, and a mimic will express them to the life.
Though the sounds of words differ so greatly, yet men can
reduce them to a few simple letters. And certainly it is not
the insufficiency or incapacity of the mind, but the remoteness
of the object that causes these perplexities and distrusts in
the sciences : for as the sense is apt to mistake at great
distances, but not near at hand, so is the understanding.
Men commonly take a view of nature as from a remote emi
nence, and are too much amused with generalities : whereas,
if they would descend, and approach nearer to particulars,
and more exactly and considerately examine into things
themselves, they might make more solid and useful disco
veries. The remedy of this error, therefore, is to quicken or
strengthen the organ, and thus to approach the object. No
doubt, therefore, if physicians, leaving generalities for a
while, and suspending their assent, would advance towards
nature, they might become masters of that art of which the
poet speaks : —

" Et quoniam variant morbi, variabimus artes
Mille mail species mille salutis erunt.''*

They should the rather endeavour this, because the philo
sophies whereon physicians, whether methodists or chemists,
depend, are trifling, and because medicine, not founded on
philosophy, is a weak thing. Therefore, as too extensive
generals, though true, do not bring men home to action,
there is more danger in such generals as are false in them
selves, and seduce instead of directing the mind. Medicine,
therefore, has been rather professed than laboured, and yet
more laboured than advanced, as the pains bestowed thereon
were rather circular than progressive ; for I find great repe
tition, and but little new matter, in the writers of physic.

We divide medicine into three parts, or offices : viz., 1st,
the preservation of health; 2nd, the cure of diseases; and 3rd,
Uie prolongation of life. For this last part, physicians seem

v Ovid, Bemedia Amoris, 625.

160 ADVANCEMENT Ofr LEARNING, [BOOK IV.

to think it DO capital part of medicine, but confound it with
the other two ; as supposing, that if diseases be prevented,
or cured after invasion, long life must follow of course. But.
then, they do not consider that both preservation and cure
regard only diseases, and such prolongation of life as is inter
cepted by them : whence the means of spinning out the fall
thread of life, or preventing, for a season, that kind of death
which gradually steals upon the body by simple resolution,
and the wasting of age, is a subject that no physician has
treated suitably to its merit. Let none imagine we are here
repealing the decrees of fate and Providence, by establishing
a new office of medicine ; for, doubtless, Providence alike
dispenses all kinds of deaths, whether they proceed from
violence, diseases, or the course and period of age ; yet
without excluding the use of remedies and preventions, for
art and industry do not here overrule, but administer to
nature and fate.

Many have unskilfully written upon the preservation of
health, particularly by attributing too much to the choice,
and too little to the quantity of meats. As to quantity,
they, like the moral philosophers, highly commend mode
ration ; whereas, both fasting changed to custom, and full
feeding, where a man is used to it, are better preservatives
of health than those mediocrities they recommend, which
commonly dispirit nature, and unfit her to bear excess, or
want, upon occasion. And for the several exercises, which
greatly conduce to the preservation of health, no physician
has well distinguished or observed them, though there be
scarce any tendency to a disease, that may not be corrected
by some appropriate exercise. Thus bowling is suited to
the diseases of the kidneys, shooting with the long bow to
those of the lungs, walking and riding to those of the
stomach, &c.

Great pains have been bestowed upon the cure of diseases,
but to small purpose. This part comprehends the know
ledge of the diseases incident to the human body, together
with their causes, symptoms, and cures. In this second
office of medicine there are many deficiencies. And first, wo
may note the discontinuance of that useful method of Hip
pocrates,* in writing narratives of particular euros with
* Narrationcs Medioales.

CHAP. II.] PHIMCIASS' NEGLECT OF ANATOMY. 161

diligence and exactness, containing the nature, the cure, and
event of the distemper. And this remarkable precedent of
one accounted the father of his art, need not to be backed
with examples derived from other arts, as from the prudent
practice of the lawyers, who religiously enter down the more
eminent cases and new decisions, the better to prepare and
direct themselves in future. This continuation, therefore, of
medicinal reports we find deficient, especially in form of an
?ntire body, digested with proper care and judgment. But
we do not mean, that this work should extend to every com
mon case that happens every day, which were an infinite
labour, and to little purpose ; nor yet to exclude all but pro
digies and wonders, as several have done : for many things
are new in their manner and circumstances, which are not
new in their kind ; and he who looks attentively will find
many particulars worthy of observation, in what seem*
vulgar.

So in anatomy, the general parts of the human body are
diligently observed, and even to niceness : but as to the
variety found in different bodies, here the diligence of phy
sicians fails. And, therefore, though simple anatomy has
been fully and clearly handled, yet comparative anatomy is
deficient. For anatomists have carefully examined into all
the parts, their consistencies, figures, and situations ; but
pass over the different figure and state of those parts in
different persons. The reason of this defect I take to be,
that the former inquiry may terminate upon seeing two or
three bodies dissected ; but the other being comparative, and
casual, requires attentive and strict application to many
different dissections : besides, the first is a subject wherein
learned anatomists may show themselves to their audience ;
but the other a rigorous knowledge, to be acquired only by
silent and long experience. And no doubt but the internal
parts, for variety and proportions, are little inferior to the
external ; and that hearts, livers, and stomachs, are as dif
ferent in men, as foreheads, noses, and ears. And in these
differences of the internal parts are often found the imme
diate causes of many diseases, which physicians not observing,
sometimes unjustly accuse the humours, when the fault Hea
only in the mechanic structure of a part. And in such dis
eases it is in vain to use alteratives, as the case admits not
* M

162 ADVANCEMEU L« OF1 LEAIlXlNG. [BOOK tV.

of being altered by them, but must be affected, accommo
dated, or palliated by a regimen, and familiar medicines.

Again, comparative anatomy requires accurate observations
upon all the humours, and the marks and impressions of
diseases in different bodies upon dissection ; for the humours
are commonly passed over in anatomy, as loathsome and ex-
crementitious things; whereas it is highly useful and necessary
to note their nature and the various kinds that may some
times be found in the human body, in what cavities they
principally lodge, and with what advantage, disadvantage, and
the like. So the marks and impressions of diseases, and the
changes and devastations they bring upon the internal parts,
are to be diligently observed in different dissections ; viz.
imposthumes, ulcerations, solutions of continuity, putrefac
tions, corrosions, consumptions, contractions, extensions, con
vulsions, luxations, dislocations, obstructions, repletions,
tumours ; and preternatural excrescences, as stones, car-
nosities, wens, worms, &c., all which should be very carefully
examined, and orderly digested in the comparative anatomy
we ypeak of ; and the experiments of several physicians be
here collected and compared together. But this variety of
accidents, is by anatomists either slightly touched or else
passed over in silence.

That defect in anatomy, owing to its not having been
practised upon live bodies, needs not be spoken to, the thing
itself being odious, cruel, and justly condemned by Celsus ; '
yet the observation of the ancients is true, that many subtile
pores, passages, and perforations appeal' not upon dissection,
because they are closed and concealed in dead bodies, that
might be open and manifest in live ones. Wherefore, if we
would consult the good of mankind, without being guilty of
cruelty, this anatomy of live creatures should be entirely
deserted or left to the casual inspection of chimrgeons, or
may be sufficiently performed upon living brutes, notwith
standing the dissimilitude between their parts and those of
men, so as to answer the design, provided it be done with
judgment.

Physicians, likewise, when they inquire into diseases, find
to many which they judge incurable, either from their first

1 Ds Re Medioa, i. 5

CttAfc II. ART OP RELIEVING tAlfr DEEDED. 163

appearance, or after a certain period, that the proscriptions
of Sylla and the Triumvirate were t/ifling to the proscrip
tions of the physicians, by which, with an unjust sentence,
they deliver men over to death ; numbers whereof, however,
escape with less difficulty than under the Roman proscrip
tions. A work, therefore, is wanting upon the cures ot
reputed incurable diseases, that physicians of eminence and
resolution may be encouraged and excited to pursue this
matter as far as the nature of things will permit ; since to
pronounce diseases incurable, is to establish negligence and
carelessness, as it were by a law, and screen ignorance trom
reproach.

And farther, we esteem it the office of a physician to
mitigate the pains and tortures of diseases, as well sis to
restore health ; and this not only when such a mitigation, as
of a dangerous symptom, may conduce to recovery ; but also,
when there being no farther hopes of recovery, it can only
serve to make the passage out of life more calm and easy.
For that complacency in death, which Augustus Ca3sar so
much desired, is no small felicity. k This was also observed
in the death of Antoninus Pius, who seemed not so much to
die as to fall into a deep and pleasing sleep. And it is
delivered of Epicurus, that he procured himself this easy
departure; for after his disease was judged desperate, he
intoxicated himself with wine, and died in that condition,
which gave rise to the epigram : —

" Hinc Stygias ebrius transit aquas."1

But the physicians of our times make a scruple of attending
the patient after the disease is thought past cure, though, ii?
my judgment, if they were not wanting to their own pro
fession and to humanity itself, they should here give their
attendance to improve their skill, and make the dying person
depart with greater ease and tranquillity. We therefore set
down as deficient an inquiry after a method of relieving the
agonies of the dying, calling it by the name of euthanasia
exteriori, to distinguish it from the internal composure, pro
cured to the soul in death.

Again, w~e generally find this deficiency in the cures of
diseases, that though the present physicians tolerably pursue

k Suetonius's Life Aug. Cses. 100. ! Laertius's Life Epic. i. § Ifw

M 2

1G4 ADVANCEMENt OF LEARSlNO, ["HCOIC IV,

the general intentions of cures, yet they have no particular
medicines, which, by a specific property regard particular
diseases j for they lose the benefit of traditions and approved
experience by their authoritative procedure in adding, taking
away, and changing the ingredients of their receipts at
pleasure, after the manner of apothecaries substituting one
thing for another, and thus haughtily commanding medicine,
so that medicine can no longer command the disease. For
except Venice treacle, mithridate, diascordium, the confection
of alkermes, and a few more, they commonly tie themselves
strictly to no certain receipts : the other saleable preparations
of the shops being* in readiness, rather for general purposes,
than accommodated to any particular cures ; for they do not
principally regard some one disease, but have a general
virtue of opening obstructions, promoting concoction, «fec.
And hence it chiefly proceeds, that empirics and women are
often more successful in their cures than learned physicians,
because the former keep strictly and invariably to the use of
experienced medicines, without altering their compositions.
I remember a famous Jew physician in England would say,
" Your European physicians are indeed men of learning, but
they know nothing of particular cures for diseases." And he
would sometimes jest a little irreverently, and say, "Our
physicians were like bishops, that had the keys of binding and
loosing, but no more." To be serious ; it might be of great
consequence if some physicians, eminent for learning and
practice, would compile a work of approved and experienced
medicines in particular diseases. For though one might
speciously pretend, that a learned physician should rather
suit his medicines occasionally, as the constitution of the
patient, his age, customs, the seasons, <fcc. require, than rest
upon any certain prescriptions ; yet this is a fallacious
opinion that underrates experience and overrates human
judgment. And as those persons in the Roman state were
the most serviceable, who being either consuls, favoured the
people, or tribunes, and inclined to the senate ; so are those
the best physicians, who being either learned, duly value the
traditions of experience ; or men of eminent practice, that
do not despise methods and the general principles of the art.
But if medicines require, at any time, to be qualified, this
may rather be done in the vehicles than in the body of the

CHAP. II.] HASTY DESPAIR OF CURES. 165

medicine, where nothing should be altered without apparent
necessity. Therefore, this part of physic which treats ot
authentic and positive remedies, we note as deficient ; but
the business of supplying it is to be undertaken with great
judgment, and as by a committee of physicians, chosen for
that purpose.

And for the preparation of medicines ; it seems strange,
especially as mineral ones have been so celebrated by chemists,
though safer for external than internal use, that nobody
hath hitherto attempted any artificial imitations of natural
baths and medicinal springs, whilst it is acknowledged that
these receive their virtues from the mineral veins through
which they pass ; and especially since human industry can,
by certain separations, discover with what kind of minerals
such waters are impregnated, as whether by sulphur, vitrol,
iron, &c. And if these natural impregnations of waters are
reducible to artificial compositions, it would then be in the
power of art to make more kinds of them occasionally, and
at the same time to regulate their temperature at pleasure,
This part, therefore, of medicine, concerning the artificial
imitation of natural baths and springs, we set down as
deficient, and recommend as an easy as well as useful
undertaking.

The last deficiency we shall mention seems to us of great
importance ; viz., that the methods of cure in use are too
short to effect anything that is difficult or very considerable.
For it is rather vain and flattering, than just and rational, to
expect that any medicine should be so effectual, or so success
ful, as by the sole use thereof to work any great cure. It
must be a powerful discourse, which though often repeated,
should correct any deep-rooted and inveterate vice cf the
mind. Such miracles are not to be expected ; but the
things of greatest efficacy in nature, are order, perseverance,
and an artificial change of applications, which, though they
require exact judgment to prescribe, and precise observance
to follow, yet this i° amply recompensed by the great effects
they produce. To see the daily labours of physicians in their
visits, consultations, and prescriptions, one would think that
they diligently pursued the cure, and went directly in a
certain beaten track about it ; but whoever looks attentively
UltQ tfieir prescriptions and Directions, -vUl fiud, that the

166 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IVt

mosfc of what they do is full of uncertainty, "wavering, and
irresolution, without any certain view or fore-knowledge or
the course of the cure. Whereas they should from the first,
after having fully and perfectly discovered the disease, choose
and resolve upon some regular process or series ot cure, and
not depart irom it without sufficient reason. Thus physicians
should know, for example, that perhaps three or lour reme
dies rightly prescribed in an inveterate disease, and taken in
due order, and at due distances of time, may perform a cure ;
and yet the same remedies taken independently of each
other, in an inverted order, or not at stated periods, might
prove absolutely prejudicial. Though we mean not, that
every scrupulous and superstitious method of cure should be
esteemed the best, but that the way should be as exact as it
is confined and difficult. And this part of medicine we note
as deficient, under the name of the physicians' clue or direc
tory. And these are the things wanting in the doctrine of
medicine, for the cure of diseases; but there still remains one
thing more, and of greater use than all the rest; viz., a
genuine and active natural philosophy, whereon to build the
science of physic.

We make the third part of medicine regard the pro
longation of life : this is a new part, and deficient, though
the most noble of all ; for if it may be supplied, medicine
will not then be wholly versed in sordid cures, nor physicians
be honoured only for necessity, but as dispensers of the
greatest earthly happiness that could well be conferred on
mortals ; for though the world be but as a wilderness to a
Christian travelling through it to the promised land, yet it
would be an instance of the divine favour, tha;; our clothing,
that is, our bodies, should be little worn whLo we sojourn
here. And as this is a capital part of physic, and as we
note it for deficient, we shall lay down some directions
about it.

And first, no writer extant upon this subject has made any
great or useful discovery therein. Aristotle,"1 indeed, has left
us a short memoir, wherein there are some admonitions after
his manner, which he supposes to be all that can be said of
the matter ; but the moderns have here written so weakly and

111 Pt Lougitudme et Noviwte Vi

CHAP. II. j ART OP PROLONGING LIFE. 167

superjititiously, that the subject itself, through their vanity,
is reputed vain and senseless. 2. The very intentions of
physicians upon this head are of no validity, but rather lead
ii-om the point than direct to it. For they talk as if death
consisted in a destitution of heat and moisture, and therefore
that natural heat should be comforted, and radical moisture
cherished ; as if the work were to be effected by broths,
lettuce, and mallows ; or again, by spices, generous wines,
spirits, or chemical oils ; all which rather do hurt than good.
3. We admonish mankind to cease their trifling, and not
weakly imagine that such a great work as retarding the
course of nature can be effected by a morning's draught, the
use of any costly medicines, pearls, or aurum potabile itseli ;
but be assured, that the prolongation of life is a laborious
work, that requires many kinds of remedies, and a proper
continuation and intermixture thereof ; for it were stupidity
to expect, that what was never yet done, should be effected,
otherwise than by means hitherto unattempted. 4. Lastly,
we admonish them rightly to observe and distinguish betwixt
what conduces to health, and what to a long life ; for some
things, though they exhilarate the spirits, strengthen the
faculties, and prevent diseases, are yet destructive to life,
and, without sickness, bring on a wasting old age ; whilst
there are others which prolong life and prevent decay, though
not to be used without danger to health ; so that when
employed for the prolongation of life, such inconveniences
must be guarded against, as might otherwise happen upon
using them.

Things seem to us preservable either in their own sub
stance or by repair ; in their own substance, as a fly, or an
ant, in amber ; a flower, an apple, &c. in conservatories of
snow ; or a corps of balsam ; by repair, as in flame and
mechanic engines. He who attempts to prolong life, must
practise both these methods together ; for separate, their
force is less. The human body must be preserved as bodies
inanimate are ; again, as flame ; and lastly, in some measure
as machines are preserved. There are> therefore, three inten
tions for the prolongation of life; viz., 1. to hinder waste ;
2. secure a good repair ; and 3. to renew what begins to decay.
I. Waste is caused by two depredations ; viz., that of the
internal spirit, and that of the externa.1 air ; ami both are

168 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IV

prevented two ways; viz., by making these agents less pre
datory, or the patients, that is the juices of the body, Ies8
apt to be preyed on. The spirit is rendered less predatory,
if either its substance be condensed ; as, 1. by the use or"
opiates, preparations of nitre, and in contristation ; or, 2. if
it be lessened in quantity, as by fasting and diet ; and 3. if
it be moderated in its motion, as by rest and quiet. The
ambient air becomes less predatory, either when it is less
heated by the sun, as in the cold countries, caves, hills ; or
kept from the body, as by close skins, the plumage of birds,
and the use of oil and unguents, without spices. The juiceg
of the body are rendered less subject to be preyed on, if made
more hardy, or more oleaginous, as by a rough astringent
diet, living in the cold, robust exercises, the use of certain
mineral baths, sweet things, and abstaining from such as are
salt or acid ; but especially by means of such drinks as con
sist of subtile parts, yet without acrimony or tartness.
II. Repair is procured by nourishment, and nourishment is
promoted four ways : 1. by forwarding internal concoction,
which drives forth the nourishment, as by medicines that
invigorate the principal viscera ; 2. by exciting the external
parts to attract the nourishment, as by exercise, proper
frictions, unctions, and baths ; 3. by preparing the aliment
itself, that it may more easily insinuate, and require less
digestion ; as in many artificial ways of preparing meats,
drinks, bread, and reducing the effects of these three to one :
again, 4. by the last act of assimilation, as in seasonable sleep
and external applications. III. The renovation of parts
worn out is performed two ways ; either by softening the
habit of the body, as with suppling applications, in the way
of bath, plaster, or unction, cf such qualities as to insinuate
into the parts, but extract nothing from them \ or by dis
charging the old, and substituting new moisture, as in season
able and repeated purging, bleeding, and attenuating diets,
which restore the bloom of the body.

Several rules for the conduct of the work are derivable
from these indications ; but three of the more principal art)
the following. And first, prolongation of life is rather to be
expected from stated diets, than from any common regimen
of food, or the virtues of particular medicines ; for those
thing?, tlia.t have force enough to turn back the course of

CHAP. II.] DUTY OF ATTENTION TO THE BODY. 169

nature, are commonly too violent to be compounded into a
medicine, much more to be mixed with the ordinary food,
and must therefore be administered orderly, regularly, and
at set periods. 2. We next lay it down as a rule, that the
prolongation of life be expected, rather from working upon
the spirits, and mollifying the parts, than from the manner
of alimentation. For as the human body, and the internal
structure thereof, may suffer from three things, viz. the
spirits, the parts, and aliments ; the way of prolonging life
by means of alimentation is tedious, indirect, and winding ;
but the ways of working upon the spirits and the parts,
much shorter ; for the spirits are suddenly affected, both by
effluvia and the passions, which may work strangely upon
them ; and the parts also by baths, unguents, or plasters,
which will likewise have sudden impressions. 3. Our last
precept is, that the softening of the external parts be
attempted by such things as are penetrating, astringent, and
of the same nature with the body ; the Tatter are readily
received and entertained, and properly soften ; and pene
trating things are as vehicles to those that mollify, and more
easily convey, and deeply impress the virtue thereof ; whilst
themselves also, in some measure, operate upon the parts :
but astringents keep in the virtue of them both, and some
what fix it, and also stop perspiration, which would otherwise
be contrary to mollifying, as sending out the moisture ; there
fore the whole affair is to be effected by these three means
used in order and succession, rather than together. Observe
only, that it is not the intention of mollifying to nourish the
parts externally, but only to render them more capable of
nourishment ; for dry things are less disposed to assimilate.
And so much for the prolongation of life, which we make
the third, or a new part of medicine.

The art of decoration, or beautifying, has two parts, civil
and effeminate. For cleanliness and decency of the body
were always allowed to proceed from moral modesty and
reverence ; first, towards God, whose creatures we are ; next,
towards society, wherein we live ; and lastly, towards our
selves, whom we ought to reverence still more than others.
But false decorations, fucuses, and pigments, deserve the
imperfections that constantly attend them ; being neither
exquisite enough to 4eceive? jiur commodious, in ap

170 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK 17

nor wholesome in their use. And it is much that this
depraved custom of painting the face should so long escape
the penal laws both of the church and state, which have been
very severe against luxury in apparel and effeminate trim
ming of the hair. We read ot Jezebel, that she painted her
face ; but not so of Esther and Judith.

We take gymnastics, in a large sense, to signify whatever
relates to the liability whereto the human body may be
brought, whether of activity or suffering. Activity has two
parts, strength and swiftness ; so has endurance or suffering,
viz., with regard to natural wants, and fortitude under
torture. Of all these, we have many remarkable instances in
the practices of rope-dancers, the hardy lives of savages, sur
prising strength of lunatics, and the constancy and resolution
of many under exquisite torments. Any other faculties that
fall not within the former division, as diving, or the power
of continuing long under water without respiration, and the
like, we refer them also to gymnastics. And here, though
the things themselves are common, yet the philosophy and
causes thereof are usually neglected, perhaps because men are
persuaded that such masteries over nature are only obtainable
either from a peculiar and natural disposition in some men,
which comes not under rules, or by a constant custom from
childhood, which is rather imposed than taught. And though
this be not altogether true, yet it is here of small consequence
to note any deficiency, for the Olympic games are long since
ceased, and a mediocrity in these things is sufficient for use,
whilst excellency in them serves commonly but for mercenary
show.

The arts of elegance are divided with respect to the two
senses of sight and hearing. Painting particularly delights
the eye ; so do numerous other magnificent arts, relating to
buildings, gardens, apparel, vessels, gems, &c. Music pleases
the ear with great variety and apparatus of sounds, voices,
strings, and instruments ; and anciently water-organs were
esteemed as great master-pieces in this art, though now
grown into disuse. The arts which relate to the eye and ear,
are, above the rest, accounted liberal ; these two senses being
the more pure, and the sciences thereof more learned, as
having mathematics to attend them. The one also has some
relation to the memory and demonstrations ; the other, to

CHAP. III.] DOCTRINE OF THE SOUL. 171

manners and the passions of the mind. The pleasures of the
other senses, and the arts employed about them, are in less
repute, as approaching nearer to sensuality than magnificence.
Unguents, perfumes, the furniture of the table, but princi
pally incitements to lust, should rather be censured than
taught. And it has been well observed, that while states
were in their increase, military arts nourished ; when at
their heights, the liberal arts ; but when upon their decline,
the arts of luxury. "With the arts of pleasure, we join also
the jocular arts : for the deception of the senses may be
reckoned one of their delights.

And now, as so many things require to be considered with
relation to the human body, viz. the parts, humours, functions,
faculties, accidents, <fec., since we ought to have an entire
doctrine of the body of man, which should comprehend them
all ; yet lest arts should be thus too much multiplied, or
their ancient limits too much disordered, we receive into the
system of medicine, the doctrines of the parts, functions, and
humours of the body; respiration, sleep, generation; the
foetus, gestation in the womb ; growth, puberty, baldness,
fatness, and the like ; though these do not properly belong
either to the preservation of health, the cure of diseases, or
the prolongation of life, but because the human body is, in
every respect, the subject of medicine. But for voluntary
motion and sense, we refer them to the doctrine of the soul
as two principal parts thereof. And thus we conclude the
doctrine of the body, which is but as a tabernacle to the
soul.

CHAPTER III.

Division of the Doctrine of the Human Soul into that of the Inspired
Essence and the Knowledge of the Sensible or Produced Soul.
Second Division ot the same philosophy into the Doctrine of the
Substance and the Faculties of the Soul. The Use and Objects of
the latter. Two Appendices to the Doctrine of the Faculties of the
Soul : viz. Natural Divination and Fascination (Mesmerism). The
Faculties of the Sensible Soul divided into those of Motion and Sense.

WE now come to the doctrine of the human soul, from
whose treasures all other doctrines are derived. It has two
parts, — the one treating of the rational soul, which is divine,

172 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [fcOOK IT,

the other of the irrational soul, which wo have in common
with brutes. Two different emanations of souls are manifest
in the first creation, the one proceeding from the breath of
God, the other from the elements. As to the primitive
emanation of the rational soul, the Scripture says, God
formed man of the dust of the earth, and breathed into his
nostrils the breath of life ; but the generation of the irra
tional and brutal soul was in these words, — Let the water
bring forth ; let the earth bring forth. And this irrational
soul in man is only an instrument to the rational one, and has
the same origin in us as in brutes, viz. the dust of the earth ;
for it is not said, God formed the body of man of the dust of
the earth, but God formed man, that is, the whole man, the
breath of life excepted, of the dust of the earth. We will,
therefore, style the first part of the general doctrine of the
human soul the doctrine of the inspired substance, and the
other part the doctrine of the sensitive or produced soul.
But as we are here treating wholly of philosophy, we would
not have borrowed this division from divinity, had it not
also agreed with the principles of philosophy. For there are
many excellencies of the human soul above the souls of
brutes, manifest even to those who philosophize only accord
ing to sense. And wherever so many and such great excel
lencies are found, a specific difference should always be made.
We do not, therefore, approve that confused and promis
cuous manner of the philosophers in treating the functions
of the soul, as if the soul of man differed in degree rather
than species from the soul of brutes, as the sun differs from
the stars, or gold from other metals.

There may also be another division of the general doctrine
of the human soul into the doctrine of the substance and
faculties of the soul, and that of the use and objects of the
faculties. And these two divisions being premised, we come
to particulars.

The doctrine of the inspired substance, as also of the sub
stance of the rational soul, comprehends several inquiries
with relation to its nature, as whether the soul be native or
adventitious, separable or inseparable, mortal or immortal ;
how far it is subject to the laws of matter, how far not, and
the like. But the points of this kind, though they might be
more thoroughly sifted in philosophy than hitherto they

CHAP. lit] NATURE OP THE SENSITIVE SOUL. 173

been, yet in the end they must be turned over tc- religion, for
determination and decision ; otherwise they will lie exposed
to various errors and illusions of sense. For as the substance
of the soul was not, in its creation, extracted or deduced
from the mass of heaven and earth, but immediately inspired
by God; and as the laws of heaven and earth are the proper
subjects of philosophy, no knowledge of the substance of
the rational soul can be had from philosophy, but must
be derived from the same Divine inspiration, whence the
substance thereof originally proceeded. a

But in the doctrine of the sensitive or produced soul, even
its substance may be justly inquired into, though this in
quiry seems hitherto wanting. For of what significancy are
the terms of actus ultimus and forma corporis, and such
logical trifles, to the knowledge of the soul's substance ? The
sensitive soul must be allowed a corporeal substance, atte
nuated by heat and rendered invisible, as a subtile breath or
aura, of a flamy and airy nature, having the softness of air
in receiving impressions, and the activity of fire in exerting
its action, nourished partly by an oily and partly by a watery
substance, and diffused through the whole body ; but in per
fect creatures, residing chiefly in the head, and thence run
ning through the nerves, being fed and recruited by the
spirituous blood of the arteries, as Telesiusb and his follower
Donius in some measure have usefully shown. Therefore let
this doctrine be more diligently inquired into,c because the

• To separate God from human reason, appears to be one of the great
aims of one of the modern schools of philosophy, and sometimes the
theory has received indirect confirmations from quarters by no means
favourable to its advocates. Pascal wrote, " Selon les lumieres
naturelles, nous sonnnes incapable de connaitre ce que Dieu eat."
In the edition of this philosopher's works, by Voltaire and Condorcet.,
the text was enriched with the addition of the phrase, " Ni s'il est ;"
and the following1 note appended to the passage, by Voltaire : —
" ]1 cst »Strange que Pascal ait cru qu'on pouvait deviner le pech«*
originel par la raison, et qu'il dise qu'on lie pent connaitre par la
raison si Dieu est." At this specimen of deistic candour, Condorcet
exclaims, in a subsequent note, "How marvellous to behold Voltaire
contending with Pascal for the existence of God!" Ed,

b Rerum Natura, book 5.

c This inquiry is greatly embroiled by the moderns ; some seeking
the soul all over the body, some in the blood, some in the animal spirits,
•ome in the heart, some in the ventricles of the brain, and some, with
Pea Cartes, in the Glandula Pinealia. M. Fetit wrote a curioua j>iec«

174 AbvANCEMfiNt OF LfiAntfifco. [BOOK IV.

ignorance of it has produced superstitious and very corrupt
opinions, that greatly lessen the dignity of the human soul,
— such as the transmigration and lustration of souls through
certain periods of years, and the too near relation in all
respects of the human soul to the soul of brutes. For this
soul in brutes is a principal soul, whereof their body is the
organ ; but in man it is itself an organ of the rational soul,
and may rather be called by the name spirit than soul.

The faculties of the soul are well known ;d viz., the under
standing, reason, imagination, memory, appetite, will, and
all those wherewith logic and ethics are concerned. In the
doctrine of the soul the origin of these faculties must be
physically treated, as they may be innate and adhering to the
soul, but their uses and objects are referred to other arts;
and in this part nothing extraordinary has hitherto appeared,
though we do not indeed report it as wanting. This part of
the faculties of the soul has also two appendages, which as
they have yet been handled, rather present us with smoke
than any clear flame of truth, — one being the doctrine of
natural divination, the other of fascination.

Divination has been anciently and properly divided into
artificial and natural. The artificial draws its predictions
by reasoning from the indication of signs; but the natural
predicts from the internal foresight ot the mind, without the

relating to this subject, entitled, " De Anima, Corpori coextensa ; "
printed .at Paris, 16G5. See also " Hobokenius de Sede Animae in
Corpore Humano." Ed.

A The text is indistinct. We are not told whether the faculties here
enumerated belong to the produced or to the rational soul. Though
from the language of the text, and the order of inquiry, the for
mer appears to be the most probable opinion : yet we do not see
how the origin of conscience to which they refer can be physically
treated, or how the same substance can unite appetite, and the prin
ciple to which it is almost invariably opposed. To obviate such diffi
culties, Aristotle and Plato made a similar distinction between the
rational and the sensitive principle in man, and assigned reason,
imagination, and memory to the one, while they restricted appetite und
sensational feeling to the other. Bacon, however, seems to place all
these faculties in the sensitive soul, and leaves the inspired substance a
mere breath or aura, without either faculties or functions. By thus
implying the cogitative power of matter, he has in some measure
countenanced the dangerous belief of the corruptibility ot the human
soul and its expiration with the body ; at least, sceptics have not been
blow in putting this interpretation upon his doctrine. Ed.

CflAP. 111.] NATURE OF DlVlfrATlOif. 175

assistance of signs. Artificial divination is of two kinds, —
one arguing from causes, the other only from experiments
conducted by blind authority. The latter is generally super
stitious. Such were the heathen doctrines about the inspec
tion of entrails, the flight of birds, &c. ; and the formal astro
logy of the Chaldeans was little better. Both kinds of
artificial divination spread themselves into various sciences.
The astrologer has his predictions from the aspects of the
stars; the physician, too, has his, as to death, recovery, and
the subsequent symptoms of diseases, from the urine, pulse;,
aspect of the patient, &c. ; the politician also is not without
his predictions, — "0 urbem venalem, et cito perituram M.
emptorem invenerit!"e — the event of which prophecy hap
pened soon after, and was first accomplished in Sylla and
again in Caesar. But the predictions of this kind being not
to our present purpose, we refer them to their proper arts,
and shall here only treat of natural divination, proceeding
from the internal power of the soul.

This also is of two kinds, — the one native, the other by
influx. The native rests upon this supposition, that the
mind abstracted or collected in itself, and not diffused in the
organs of the body, has from the natural power of its own
essence some foreknowledge of future things; and this ap
pears chiefly in sleep, ecstasies, and the near approach of
death ; but more rarely in waking, or when the body is in
health and strength. And this state of the mind is com
monly procured or promoted by abstinence, and principally
such things as withdraw the mind from exercising the func
tions of the body, that it may thus enjoy its own nature
without any external interruption. But divination by influx
is grounded upon another supposition, viz., that the mind,
as a mirror, may receive a secondary illumination from the
foreknowledge of God and spirits, whereto likewise the above-
mentioned state and regimen of the body are conducive.
For the same abstraction of the mind causes it more power
fully to use its own nature, and renders it more susceptive
of divine influxes, only in divinations by influx the soul is
seized with a kind of rapture, and as it were impatience of

e "0 city set to sale, whose destruction is at hand, if it find
a purchaser ! " uttered by Jugurtba, on leaving Rome. Sallust'i
Jugurtha, 35,

1"6 AtVAS'cEMEffr Of LfcAnxt>w. BOOK »v.

the Deity's presence, which the ancients called by the uan.e
of sacred fury, whereas in native divination the soul IK
rather at its ease and free.

Fascination is the power and intense act of the imagina
tion upon the body of another. And here the school of
Paracelsus, and the pretenders to natural magic, abusively
so called, have almost made the force and apprehension of
the imagination equal to the power of faith, and capable
of working miracles ; others keeping nearer to truth, and
attentively considering the secret energies arid impressions of
things, the irradiations of the senses, the transmissions of
thought from one to another, and the conveyances of mag
netic virtues, are of opinion that impressions, conveyances,
and communications, might be made from spirit to spirit,
because spirit is of all things the most powerful in opera
tion and easiest to work on; whence many opinions have
spread abroad of master spirits, of men ominous and un
lucky, of the strokes of love, envy, and the like. And this
is attended with the inquiry, how the imagination may be
heightened and fortified ; for if a strong imagination has
such power, it is worth knowing by what means to exalt
and raise it.f

But here a palliative or defence of a great part of cere
monial magic would slily and indirectly insinuate itself, under
a specious pretence that ceremonies, characters, charms, ges
ticulations, amulets, and the like, have not their power from
any tacit or binding contract with evil spirits, but that these
serve only to strengthen and raise the imagination of such
as use them, in the same manner as images have prevailed
in religion for fixing men's minds in the contemplation of
things and raising the devotion in prayer. But allowing
the force of imagination to be great, and that ceremonies
do raise and strengthen it; allowing also, that ceremonies
may be sincerely used to that end, as a physical remedy,
without the least design of thereby procuring the assist
ance of spirits ; yet ought they still to be held unlawful,

' The ways of working upon or with the imagination, are touched
l>y the author, in his " Sylva Sylvarum," under the article Imagination.
See more to this purpose in "Des Cartes upon the Passions," " Ca-
saubon upon Enthusiasm," Father Malbranche's " Recherche tie 1*
"Write', " and Lord Shaftesbury's " Letter upon Enthusiasm." Shaw,

CHAP. III.] VOLUNTARY MOTION AND SENSIBILITY. 177

because they oppose and contradict that Divine sentence
passed upon man for sin : " In the sweat of thy brow thou
ehalt eat thy bread." For this kind of magic offers those ex
cellent fruits which God had ordained should be procured by
labour at the price of a few easy and slight observances.

There are two other doctrines which principally regard
the faculties of the inferior or sensitive soul, as chiefly com
municating with the organs of the body, — the one is of
voluntary motion, the other of sense and sensibility. The
former has been but superficially inquired into, and one
entire part of it is almost wholly neglected. The office and
proper structure of the nerves, muscles, &c., requisite to
muscular motion, what parts of the body rest while others
move, and how the imagination acts as director of this
motion, so far that when it drops the image whereto the
motion tended, the motion itself presently ceases, — as in
walking, if another serious thought come across our mind,
we presently stand still; with many other such subtilties,
have long ago been observed and scrutinized. But how the
compressions, dilatations, and agitations of the spirit, which,
doubtless, is the spring of motion, should guide and rule the
corporeal and gross mass of the parts, has not yet been dili
gently searched into and treated. And no wonder, since the
sensitive soul itself has been hitherto taken for a principle
of motion and a function, rather than a substance.^ But as

* The original is, pro entclcchia et functione quadam, alluding: to the
technical term entelechy, which Aristotle introduced into his Physics
(iii. 1) to denote the act through which any substance exercises its
power. The rational soul was never taken in the sense of a simple act,
or entelechy, as Bacon would insinuate, but was affirmed even by Aris
totle, who introduced the phrase, to be a certain power apart and dis
tinguished from the rest of the human system, as the eternal is distin
guishable from the incorruptible. His words are : iripl Ct TOV vov Kai
T>IQ OfdiprjTiKi'ig Cvva}ii(t)£ ovckiriii Qavtpov. 'AX\' toiice "^VX^IQ ytvof
'trtpov elvai, mil TOIJTO fiovov ivtit\trai xwpiZtaQai KaQcnrtp dictov TOO
<f>9apTov (Arist. De An. ii. 2) ; and as this power is not a simple act, but
the effect of a vital substance, possessing the principle ot activity vir
tually in itsell, he implies its capability to communicate motion to sur
rounding bodies even in a state of immobility ; itrwf ydo ov povov
\i/£t'0o£ tan TO Tr)v ovviav avr//f roi avTi)v tivai olai> tyaniv ot \iyovnc

tli'dl Tl}v tyv\flV TO KIVOUV UVTO ff CVVCl^itVOV KlVllv' d\\' (V Tl TtoV

acvva.Ta)v TO vTrapxfiv aury KIVTJVIV. (Arist. ibid. iii. 1.) With regard
to the precise meaning ot the word entelechy there have been many
Disputes among the learned. The origin of the term ought to be allowed

178 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK IV.

it is now known to be material, it becomes necessary to
inquire by what efforts so subtile and minute a breath can
put such gross and solid bodies in motion. Therefore, as
this part is deficient, let due inquiry be made concerning it.

Sense and sensibility have been much more fully and
diligently inquired into, as well in general treatises upon the
subject as in particular arts ; viz., perspective, music, &c. ;
but how justly, is not to the present intention. And, there
fore, wo cannot note them as deficient; yet there are two
excellent parts wanting in this doctrine : one upon the
difference of perception and sense, and the other upon the
form of light. In treating of sense and sensibility, philo
sophers should have premised the difference between per
ception and sense, as the foundation of the whole : for we
Hud there is a manifest power of perception in most natural
bodies, and a kind of appetite to choose what is agreeable,
and to avoid what is disagreeable to them. Nor is this meant
of the more subtile perceptions only ; as when the loadstone
attracts iron, or flame flies to petreol, or one drop of water
runs into another ; or when the rays of light are reflected
from a white object, or when animal bodies assimilate what
is proper for them, and reject what is hurtful ; or when
a sponge attracts water, and expels air, &c. ; for in all cases,
no one body placed near to another can change that other, or
be changed by it, unless a reciprocal perception precede the
operation. A body always perceives the passages by which
it insinuates ; feels the impulse of another body, where it
yields thereto ; perceives the removal of any body that with-

to indicate its signification ; but Aristotle used it in distinct senses.
as signifying not only a simple act or function ot an unsubstantia"'
quality, but also as the act of a substantial power; and his followers have
never hit upon a generic term capable of uniting the two notions. Man)
have abandoned it as untranslatable. Budseus uses the word efficacia .
Cicero paraphrases it as a certain continuous and eternal motion (Tusc.
i. 10), which only implies the motion of unsubstantial qualities, to which
Bacon confined it. This signification, however, was but the exceptional
use of the term, and does not coincide with the general applications o<
it in the Greek schools. Hermonlaus Barbarus is said to have been so
much oppressed with tins difficulty of translation, that he consulted the
evil spirit by night, entreating to be supplied with a more common and
familiar substitute for this word ; the mocking fiend, however, suggested
only a word equally obscure, and the translator disco/, tented with thus
invented for himself the word perfectibilia. l>d.

CHAP. III. | JERCEPTION DISTINCT FROM SENSE. 179

held it, and thereupon recovers itself; perceives the sepa
ration of its continuity, and for a time resists it ; in tine,
perception is diffused through all nature. But air has such
an acute perception of heat and cold, as far exceeds the
human touch, which yet passes for the measure of heat and
cold. This doctrine, therefore, has two defects : one, in that
men have generally passed it over untouched, though a noble
subject ; the other, that they who did attend to it have gone
too far, attributed sense to all bodies, and made ifc almost a
sin to pluck a twig from a tree, lest the tree should groan,
like Polydorus in Virgil.h But they ought carefully to have
searched after the difference betwixt perception and sense ;
not only in comparing sensible with insensible things, in the
entire bodies thereof, as those of plants and animals, but
also to have observed in the sensible body itself, what should
be the cause that so many actions are performed without
any sense at all. Why the aliments are digested and dis
charged, the humours and juices carried up and down in the
body ; why the heart and pulse beat ; why the viscera act as
so many workshops, and each performs its respective office ;
yet all this, and much more, be done without sense. But
men have not yet sufficiently found of what nature the
action of sense is, and what k-nd of body, what continuance,
what repetitions of the impression are required to cause pain
or pleasure. Lastly, they seem totally ignorant of the dii-
ference between simple perception and sense, and how far
perception may be caused without sense. Nor is this a con
troversy about words, but a matter of great importance.
Wherefore let this doctrine be better examined, as a thing
of capital, and very extensive use : for the ignorance of some
ancient philosophers in this point, so far obscured the light
of reason, that they thought there was a soul indifferently
infused into all bodies ; nor did they conceive how motion
of election could be caused without sense, or sense exist
without a soul.

That the form of light should not have been duly inquired
into, appears a strange oversight, especially as men have be
stowed so much pains upon perspective : for neither has this
art, nor Qthers. afforded any valuable discovery in the subject

- Virg. JEneid, iii.

180 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK IV.

of light. Its radiations, indeed, are treated, but not ita
origin ; and the ranking of perspective with mathematics
has produced this detect, with others of the like nature,
because philosophy is thus deserted, too soon. Again, the
doctrine of light, and the causes thereof, have been almost
rraperstitiously treated in physics, as a subject of a middle
nature, betwixt natural and divine; whence certain Platonists
would have light prior to matter itself: for they vainly
imagined, that space was first filled with light, and after
wards with body ; but the Scriptures plainly say, that the
mass of heaven and earth was dark before the creation of
light. And as for what is physically delivered upon this
subject, and according to sense, it presently descends to
radiations, so that very little philosophical inquiry is extant
about it. And men ought here to lower their contempla
tions a little, and inquire into the properties common to all
lucid bodies, as this relates to the form of light ; how im
mensely soever the bodies concerned may differ in dignity,
as the sun does from rotten wood, or putrefied fish. We
should likewise inquire the cause why some things take fire,
and when heated throw out light, and others not. Iron,
metal, stones, glass, wood, oil, tallow, by fire yield either a
flame, or grow red-hot. But water and air, exposed to the
most intense heat they are capable of, afford no light, nor so
much as shine. That it is not the property of fire alone to
give light ; and that water and air are not utter enemies
thereto, appears from the dashing of salt-water in a dark
night, and a hot season, when the small drops of the water,
struck off by the motion of the oars in rowing, seem spark
ling and luminous. We have the same appearance in the
agitated froth of the sea, called sea-lungs. And, indeed, it
should be inquired what affinity flame and ignited bodies
have with glow-worms, the Luciola, the Indian fly, which
casts a light over a whole room ; the eyes of certain creatures
in the dark ; loaf-sugar in scraping or breaking ; the sweat
of a horse hard ridden, &c. Men have understood so little
of this matter, that most imagine the sparks, struck betwixt
a flint and steel, to be air in attrition. But since the air
ignites not with heat, yet apparently conceives light, whence
owls, cats, and many other creatures see in the night (for
there is no vision without light), there must be a native light

BOOK v.] OfijfiCt OP io&tc AJfb frinic£ 181

in air ; which, though weak and feeble, is proportioned to
the visual organs of such creatures, so as to suffice tliern fo*
sight. The error, as in most other cases, lies here, that men
have not deduced the common forms of things from par
ticular instances, which is what we make the proper business
of metaphysics. Therefore let inquiry be made into the
form and origins of light ; and, in the mean time, we set it
down as deficient. And so much for the doctrine ol the
substance of the soul, both rational and sensitive, with i\a
faculties, and the appendages of this doctrine.

FIFTH BOOK.

CHAPTER I.

Division of the Use and Objects of the Faculties of the Soul into Loglo
and Ethics. Division of Logic into the Arts of Invention, Judg
ment, Memory, and Tradition.

THE doctrine of the human understanding, and of the
human will, excellent king, are like twins ; for the purity of
illumination, and the freedom of will, began and fell together :
nor is there in the universe so intimate a sympathy, as that
betwixt truth and goodness. The more shame for men of
learning, if in knowledge they are like the winged angels,
but in affections like the crawling serpents, having their
minds indeed like a mirror ; but a mirror foully spotted.

The doctrine of the use and objects of the mental facul
ties has two parts, well known and generally received ; viz.,
logic and ethics. Logic treats of the understanding and
reason, and ethics of the will, appetite, and affections ; the
one producing resolutions, the other actions. The imagina
tion, indeed, on both sides, performs the office of agent, or
ambassador, and assists alike in the judicial, and ministerial
capacity. Sense commits all sorts of notions to the imagi
nation, and the reason afterwards judges of them. In like
manner reason transmits select and approved notions to th«

182 ADVANCEMENT OF T.EAEXINO. fnoo:c r.

imagination before the decree is executed : for imagination
always precedes and excites voluntary motion, and is there-
lore a common instrument both to the reason and the will,
only it has two faces : that turned towards reason bearing
the effigy of truth ; but that towards action the effigy of
•joodness : yet they are faces : —

" quales decet ease sororum."*

But the imagination is more than a mere messenger ; as
being invested with, or, at least, usurping no small authority,
besides delivering the message. Thus, Aristotle well ob
serves, that the mind has the same command over the body,
as the master over the slave ; but reason over the imagi
nation, the same that a magistrate has over a free citizen, who
may come to rule in his turn.b For in matters of faith and
religion, the imagination mounts above reason. Not that
divine illumination is seated in the imagination, but, as in
divine virtues, grace makes use of the motions of the will ;
so in illumination it makes use of the motions of the imagi
nation; whence religion solicits access to the mind, by simili
tudes, types, parables, dreams, and visions. Again, the
imagination has a considerable sway in persuasion, insinuated
by the power of eloquence : for when the mind is soothed,
enraged, or any way drawn aside by the artifice of speech,
all this is done by raising the imagination ; which, now
growing unruly, not only insults over, but, in a manner, offers
violence to reason, partly by blinding, partly by incensing it.
Yet there appears no cause why we should quit our former
division : for in general, the imagination does not make
the sciences; since even poetry, which has been always attri
buted to the imagination, should be esteemed rather a play
of wit than a science. As for the power of the imagination
in natural things, we have already ranged it under the doc
trine of the soul ; and for its affinity with rhetoric, we refer
it to the art of rhetoric.

This part of human philosophy which regards logic, is
disagreeable to the taste of many, as appearing to them no
other than a net, and a snare of thorny subtilty. For as
knowledge is justly called the food of the mind, so in the
desire and choice of this food, most men have the appetite

• Ovid, Metain. ii. U. * Aristotle Pol-'tics, i. 5, 6.

CHAP. tl.J DOCTRINE OP DISCOVERY. 183

of the Israelites in the wilderness, who, weary of manna, as
a thin though celestial diet, would have gladly returned to
the fleshpots : thus generally those sciences relish best that
are subjective, and nearer related to flesh and blood ; as civil
history, morality, politics, whereon men's affections, praises,
and fortunes turn, and are employed, whilst the other dry
light offends, and dries up the soft and humid capacities of
most men. But if we would rate things according to their
real worth, the rational sciences are the keys to all the rest ;
lor as the hand is the instrument of instruments, and the
mind the form of forms, so the rational sciences a^e to V»e
esteemed the art of arts. Nor do they direct only, but also
strengthen and confirm ; as the use and habit of shooting
not only enables one to shoot nearer the mark, but likewise
to draw a stronger bow.

The logical arts are four, being divided according to the
ends they lead to : for in rational knowledge man endea
vours, 1. either to find what he seeks ; 2. to judge of what
he finds ; 3. to retain what he has approved ; or 4. to de
liver what he has retained : whence there are as many
rational arts ; viz., 1. the art of inquiry or invention ; 2. the
art of examination or judging ; 3. the art of custody or
memory ; and 4. the art ot elocution or delivery.

CHAPTER II.

Division of Invention into the Invention ot Arts and Arguments. The
former, though the more important of them, is wanting. Division of
the Invention of Arts into Literate (Instructed) Experience and a
New Method (Novun. Organum). An Illustration of Literate Expe
rience.

INVENTION is of two very different kinds : the one of arts
and sciences, the other of arguments and discourse. The
former I set down as absolutely deficient. And this defi
ciency appears like that, when, in taking the inventory of an
estate, there is set down, in cash, nothing : ior as ready
money will purchase all other commodities, so this art, if
extant, would procure all other arts. And as the immense
regions of the West Indies had never been discovered, if the
use of the compass had not first been known, it is no wonder

184 ADVANCEMENT OP LEAHN1NO. [BOOK V.

that the discovery and advancement of arts hath made no
greater progress, when the art of inventing and discovering
the sciences remains hitherto unknown. That this part ol
knowledge is wanting, seems clear : for logic professes not,
nor pretends to invent, either mechanical or liberal arts, nor
to deduce the operations of the one, or the axioms of the
other; but only leaves us this instruction in passage, to
believe every artist in his own art.* Celsus, a wise man, as
well as a physician, speaking of the empirical and dogmatical
sects of physicians, gravely and ingenuously acknowledges,
that medicines and cures were first discovered, and the
reasons and causes of them discoursed afterwards,1* not that
causes, first derived from the nature of things, gave light to
the invention of cures and remedies. And Plato, more than
once, observes, tint particulars are infinite, that the highest
generalities give no certain directions ; and, therefore, that
the marrow of all sciences, whereby the artist is distin
guished from the unskilful workman, consists in middle pro
positions, which experience has delivered and taught in each
particular science.0 Hence those who write upon the first
inventors of things, and the origin of the sciences, rather
celebrate chance than art, and bring in beasts, birds, fishes,
and serpents, rather than men, as the first teachers of arts.

" Dictiunnum genitrix Cretaea carpit ab Ida,
Puberibus caulem foliis, et flore comantem
Purpureo : non ilia feris incognita capris
Gramina, cum tergo volucres haesere sagittse."d

No wonder, therefore, as the manner of antiquity was to
consecrate the inventors of useful things, that the Egyp
tians, an ancient nation, to which many arts owe their rise,
had their temples filled with the images of brutes, and but
a few human idols amongst them.

" Omnigentimque Detim monstra et latrator Anubis
Contra Neptunum et Venerem, contraque Minervam."*

And if we should, according to the traditions of the Greeks,
ascribe the first invention of arts to men, yet we cannot say
that Prometheus studied the invention of fire ; or that when

• See Whately's Intro. § 5, b. iii. (on Fallacies) § 2, and b. iv. ; abo
Arist. Eth. Mag. i. 1-17. b Re Medica, i. 3.

e The Timaeus. d ^EneitL xii. 412. e ^Eneid, viii. 698.

CHAP. II.] DISCOVERIES HITHERTO ACCIDENTAL, 185

he first struck the flint he expected sparks, but that he fell
upon it by accident, and, as the poets say, stole it from
Jupiter. So that as to the invention of arts, we are rather
beholden to the wild goat for chirurgery, to the nightingale
for music, to the stork for glysters, to the accidental flying
off of a pot's cover for artillery, and, in a word, to chance, 01
anything else, rather than to logic. Nor does the manner
of invention, described by Virgil, differ much from the
former ; viz., that practice and intent thought by degrees
struck out various arts.

" Ut varias usus meditando extunderet artes
Paulatim."f

For this is no other than what brutes are capable of, and
frequently practise ; viz., an intent solicitude about some one
thing, and a perpetual exercise thereof, which the necessity
of their preservation imposes upon them ; for Cicero truly
observed, that practice applied wholly to one thing, often
conquers both nature and art : — " Usus uni rei deditus, et
naturam et artem saepe vincit."? And therefore, if it may
be said with regard to men, that continued labour and
cogent necessity master everything,

" Labor omnia vincit

Improbus, et duris nrgens in rebus egestas ;"h —

so it may be asked with regard to brutes, who taught them
instinct,

" Quis expedivit Psittaco suum Xalpi ?"1

Who taught the raven, in a drought, to drop pebbles into a
hollow tree, where she chanced to spy water, that the water
might rise for her to drink ? Who taught the bee to sail
through the vast ocean of air, to distant fields, and find the
way back to her hive ? k Who taught the ant to gnaw every
grain of corn that she hoards, to prevent its sprouting 1 And
it we observe in Virgil the word extundere, which implies
difficulty, and the word paulatim, which imports slowness,
this brings us back to the case of the Egyptian gods ; since
men have hitherto made little use of their rational faculties,
and none at all of art, in the investigation of things.

1 Georg. i. 133. 8 Oratio pro L. Cor. Balbo, xx

h Virg. Georg. i. 145. » Perseus, Prol. 3.

k Pliny's Natural History.

186 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V.

And this assertion, if carefully attended to, is proved from
the form of logical induction, for finding and examining the
principles of the sciences ; which form being absolutely
defective and insufficient, is so far from perfecting nature,
that it perverts and distorts her. For whoever attentively
observes how the ethereal dew of the sciences, like that of
which the poet speaks,

" Aerii mellis coelestia dona,"1

is gathered (the sciences being extracted from particular
examples, whether natural or artificial, as from so many
flowers), will find that the mind of its own natural motion
makes a better induction than that described by logicians.
From a bare enumeration of particulars in the logical manner,
where there is no contradictory instance, follows a false
conclusion ; nor does such an induction infer anything more
than probable conjecture. For who will undertake, when
the particulars of a man's own knowledge or memory appear
only on one side, that something directly opposite shall not
lie concealed on the other 1 as if Samuel should have taken
up with the sons of Jesse brought before him, and not have
sought David, who was in the field. And to say the truth,
as this form of induction is so gross and stupid, it might
seem incredible that such acute and subtile geniuses as have
been exercised this way, could ever have obtruded it upon
the world, but that they hasted to theories and opinions, and,
as it were, disdained to dwell upon particulars ; for they
have used examples and particular instances but as whifflers
to keep the crowd off and make room for their own opinions,
without consulting them from the beginning, so as to make
a just and mature judgment of the truth of things. And
this procedure has, indeed, struck me with an awful and
religious wonder, to see men tread the same paths of error,
both in divine and human inquiries. For as in receiving
divine truths men are averse to become as little children, so
in the apprehending of human truths, for men to begin to
read, and, like children, come back again to the first
elements of induction, is reputed a low and contemptible
thing.

But, allowing the principles of the sciences might be jretly

1 Virgil, Georg. iv. 1.

C«Al». II.] EFFECTS OF THE SYLLOGISM, 187

formed by the common induction, or by sense and experience,
yet it is certain that the lower axioms cannot, in natural
things, be with certainty deduced by syllogism from them.
For syllogism reduces propositions to principles by inter
mediate propositions. And this form, whether of invention
or proof* has place in the popular sciences, as ethics, politics,
law, <fec., and even in divinity, since God has been pi eased to
accommodate himself to the human capacity ; but in physics,
where nature is to be caught by works, and not the adversary
by argument, truth in this way slips through our fingers,
because the subtilty of the operations of nature far exceeds
the subtilty of words. So that syllogism thus failing, there
is everywhere a necessity for employing a genuine and cor
rect induction, as well in the more general principles, as
the inferior propositions. For syllogisms consist of propo
sitions, propositions of words, but words are the signs of
notions ; wherefore if these notions, which are the souls of
words, be unjustly and unsteadily abstracted from things, the
whole structure must fall. Nor can any laborious subsequent
examination of the consequences of arguments, or the truth
of propositions, ever repair the ruin ; for the error lies in the
first digestion, which cannot be rectified by t;ie secondary
functions of nature.

It was not, therefore, without cause, that many of the
ancient philosophers, and some of them eminent in their
way, became academics and sceptics, who denied all certainty
of human knowledge, and held that the understanding went
no further than appearance and probability. It is true,
some are of opinion that Socrates, when he declared himself
certain of nothing, did it only in the way of irony, and put
on the dissimulation of knowledge, that by renouncing what
he certainly knew, he might be thought to know what he
was ignorant of. Nor in the latter academy, which Cicero
followed, was this opinion held with much reality ; but
those who excelled in eloquence, commonly chose this sect as
the fittest for their purpose, viz., acquiring the reputation ot
disputing copiously on both sides of the question, thus
leaving the high road of truth for private walks of pleasure.
Yet it is certain there were some few, both in the old and
new academies, but more among the Sceptics, who held this
principle of doubting in simplicity and sincerity of heart*

188 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING, [BOOK V.

But their cliief error lay in accusing the perceptions of the
Benses, and thus plucked up the sciences by their roots. For
though the senses often deceive or fail us, yet, vrhen in
dustriously assisted, they may suffice for the sciences, and this
not so much by the help of instruments, which also have
their use, as of such experiments, as may furnish more subtile
objects than are perceivable by sense. But they should
rather have charged the defects of this kind upon the errors
and obstinacy of the mind, which refuses to obey the nature
of things ; and again, upon corrupt demonstrations, and
wrong ways of arguing and concluding, erroneously inferred
from the perceptions of sense. And this we say, not to
detract from the human mind, or as if the work were to be
deserted, but that proper assistances may be procured and
administered to the understanding, whereby to conquer the
difficulties of things and the obscurities of nature. What we
endeavour is, that the mind, by the help of art, may be
come equal to things, and to find a certain art of indication
or direction, to disclose and bring other arts to light, together
with their axioms and effects. And this art we, upon just
ground, report as deficient.

This art of indication has two parts ; for indication pro
ceeds, 1. from experiment to experiment j or 2. from ex
periments to axioms, which may again point out new
experiments. The former we call learned experience, and
the latter the interpretation of nature, Novum Organum, or
new machine for the mind. The first, indeed, as was formerly
intimated, is not properly an art, or any part of philosophy,
but a kind of sagacity ; whence we sometimes call it the
ohase of Pan, borrowing the name from the fable of that
god. And as there are three ways of walking, viz., either by
feeling out one's way in the dark ; or 2. when being dim-
sighted, another leads one by the hand ; and 3. by directing
one's steps by a light : so when a man tries all kinds of ex
periments without method or order, this is mere groping in
the dark ; but when he proceeds with some direction and
order in his experiments, it is as if he were led by the hand ;
and this we understand by learned experience : but for the
light itself, which is the third way, it must be derived from
the Novum Organum.

The design of learned experience, or the chase of Pan, is

CHAP. II.] DESIGN OF LITERATE EXPERIMENT. 189

to show the various ways of making experiments; and as
we note it for deficient, and the thing itself is none of the
clearest, we will here give some short sketch of the work.
The manner of experimenting chiefly consists in the varia
tion, production, translation, inversion, compulsion, applica
tion, conjunction, or any other manner of diversifying, or
making chance experiments. And all this lies without the
limits of any axiom of invention ; but the interpretation of
nature takes in all the transitions of experiments into
axioms, and of axioms into experiments.

Experiments are varied first in the subject, as when a
known experiment, having rested in one certain substance,
is tried in another of the like kind ; thus the making of
paper is hitherto confined to linen, and not applied to silk,
unless among the Chinese,d nor to hair-stuffs and camblets,
nor to cotton and skins; though these three seem to be more
unfit for the purpose, and so should be tried in mixture
rather than separate. Again, engrafting is practised in fruit-
trees, but rarely in wild ones; yet an elm grafted upon an
elm is said to produce great foliage for shade. Incision like
wise in flowers is very rare, though now the experiment
begins to be made upon musk-roses, which are successfully
inoculated upon common ones. We also place the variations
on the side of the thing among the variations in the matter.
Thus we see a scion grafted upon the trunk of a tree thrives
better than if set in earth ; and why should not onion-seed
set in a green onion grow better than when sown in the
ground by itself, a root being here substituted for the trunk,
so as to make a kind of incision in the root?

An experiment may be varied in the efficient. Thus, as
the sun's rays are so contracted by a burning-glass, and
heightened to such a degree as to fire any combustible mat
ter, may not the rays of the moon, by the same means, be
actuated to some small degree of warmth, so as to show
whether all the heavenly bodies are potentially hot1? and as
luminous heats are thus increased by glasses, may not opaque
heats, as of stones and metals, before ignition, be increased
likewise, or is there not some proportion of light here also i

m The Chinese also manufacture their paper out of the rnterior bark
oi ca»e, /fa.

190 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V,

Amber and jet, chafed, attract straws, whence query, if they
will not do the same when warmed at the fire1?

An experiment may be varied in quantity, wherein very
great care is required, as being subject to various errors.
For men imagine, that upon increasing the quantity the
virtue should increase proportionably ; and this they com
monly postulate as a mathematical certainty, and yet it is
utterly false. Suppose a leaden ball of a pound weight, let
fall from a steeple, reaches the earth in ten seconds, will a
ball of two pounds, where the po\ver of natural motion, as
they call it, should be double, reach it in five? No, they
will fall almost in equal times, and riot be accelerated ac
cording to quantity.0 Suppose a drachm of sulphur would
liquefy half a pound of steel, will, therefore, an ounce of sul
phur liquefy four pounds of steel 1 It does not follow ; for
the stubbornness of the matter in the patient is more in
creased by quantity than the activity of the agent.0 Besides,
too much as well as too little may frustrate the effect, — thus,
in smelting and refining of metals it is a common em r to
increase the heat of the furnace or the quantity of the flux;
but if these exceed a due proportion, they prejudice the
operation, because by their force and corrosiveness they turn
much of the pure metal into fumes, and carry it off, whence
there ensues not only a loss in the metal, but the remaining
mass becomes more sluggish and intractable. Men should
therefore remember how .^Esop's housewife was deceived, who
expected that by doubling her feed her hen should lay two
eggs a day; but the hen grew fat, and laid none. It is abso
lutely unsafe to rely upon any natural experiment before
proof be made of it, both in a less and a larger quantity.

n Because its surface in relation to its solidity is less than the first
fall, and consequently encounters less resistance from the air, with re
spect to the entire quantity of its motion. Ed.

0 This only happens when the increased content is attended with aug
mentation of surface. It may be accepted as a principle, that bodies are
exposed to the action of external agents in pro-portion as their surface is
extended, an increased size presenting a greater quantity of pores,
through which the agent may insinuate itself. As surfaces are only
as the squares of their diameters, and the contents increase in the ratio
of the cubes of their diameters, it follows that, in the same subject
matter, those bodies are more extended in relation to their soli
dity, which have less bulk, and consequently m.ore liable to
oi external bodies, -as Bacon remarks, Ed.

CHAP. II. j THE MODES OF EXPERIMENT. 191

An experiment is produced two ways; viz., by repetition
and extension, the experiment being either repeated or
urged to a more subtile thing. It may serve for an example
of repetition, that spirit of wine is made of wine by one dis
tillation, and thus becomes much stronger and more acrid
than the wine itself, — will likewise spirit of wine propor
tionally exceed itself in strength by another distillation?
But the repetition also of experiments may deceive ; thus
here the second exaltation does not equal the excess of the
first; and frequently, by repeating an experiment after a
certain pitch is obtained, nature is so far from going farther,
that she rather falls back. Judgment, therefore, must be
used in this affair. So quicksilver put into melted lead,
when it begins to grow cold, will be arrested, and remain no
longer fluid; but will the same quicksilver, often served so,
become fixed and malleable 1

For an example of extension, water made pendulous
above, by means of a long glass stem, and dipped into a
mixture of wine and water, will separate the water from
the wine, the wine gently rising to the top, and the water
descending and settling at the bottom. Now, as wine and
water, being two different bodies, are separable by this con
trivance, may likewise the more subtile parts of wine, which
is an entire body, be separated from the more gross by this
kind of distillation, performed as it were by gravity, so as to
have floating a-top a liquor like spirit of wine, or perhaps
more subtile I Again, the loadstone draws iron in substance,
but will loadstone plunged into a solution of iron attract the
iron and cover itself with it 1 So the magnetic needle applies
to the poles of the world ; but does it do this after the some
course and order that the celestial bodies move 1 Suppose
the needle held at the south point, and then let go, would
it now turn to the north by the west or east ?P Thus gold
imbibes quicksilver contiguous to it; but does the gold do this
without increasing its own bulk, so as to become a mass spe
cifically heavier than gold ? Thus men help their memories
by setting up pictures of persons in certain places; but wov.ld

P This question is impossible to decide, as we are never certain at
the moment of the experiment that the needle has not been deflected
irom the south point, and the slightest imperceptible degree, toe fine
for human instrument to discover, would render the trial nugatory LdL

192 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARK1NQ. |"*>OK V,

they obtain the same end if, neglecting their faces, they
only imagined the actions or habits of the persons?

An experiment may be transferred three ways ; viz., By
nature or chance into an art; 2. from one art or practice
to another ; and, 3. from one part of an art to another.
There are innumerable examples of the transferring of
experiments from nature or chance to arts, as nearly all
the mechanical arts owe their origins to slender beginnings
afforded by nature or accident. It is authorized by a proverb,
that grapes among grapes ripen sooner. And our cyder-
makers observe the rule; for they do not stamp and press
their apples without laying them on heaps for a time, to
ripen by mutual contact, whereby the liquor is prevented
from being too tart. So the making of artificial rainbows
by the thick sprinkling of little drops of water, is an easy
translation from natural rainbows made in a rainy cloud,
So the art of distillation might be taken either from the
falling of rain and dew, or that homely experiment of boil
ing water, where drops adhere to the cover of the vessel.
Mankind might have been afraid to imitate thunder and
lightning by the invention of great guns, had not the che
mical monk received the first hint of it by the impetuous
discharge and loud report of the cover of his vessel. But if
mankind were desirous to search after useful things, they
ought attentively, minutely, and on set purpose, to view the
workmanship and particular operations of nature, and be
continually examining and casting about which of them may
be transferred to arts ; for nature is the mirror of art.

Nor are there fewer experiments transferable from one
art or practice to another, though this be rarely used. For
nature lies everywhere obvious to us all, though particular
arts are only known to particular artists. Spectacles were
invented for weak sights, — might not, therefore, an instru
ment be discovered that applied to the ears should help the
hearing? Embalming preserves dead bodies, — could not,
therefore, something ol like kind be transferred to medicine,
for the preservation of live ones ? So the practice of sealing
in wax, cements, and lead, is ancient, and paved the way to
the printing on paper, or the art of the press. So in cookery,
salt preserves meats better in winter than in summer, —
might not this be usefully transferred to baths, and the

TBAP. II.] L.TERATE EXPERIENCE. 193

occasioral regulation of their temperature? So by late
experience salt is found of great efficacy ill condensing, by
the way of artificial freezing, — might not this be transferred
to the condensing of metals, since it is found that the aquae-
fortes, composed of salts, dissolve particles of gold out of somo
lighter metals ? So painting refreshes the memory by tho
image of a thing; and is not this transferred in what they
call the art of memory ? And let it be observed, in general,
that nothing is of greater efficacy in procuring a stock of
new and useful inventions, than to have the experiments of
numerous mechanic arts known to a single person, or to a
few, who might mutually improve each other by conversa
tion ; so that by this translation of experiments arts might
mutually warm and light up each other, as it were, by an
intermixture of rays. For although the rational way, by
means of a new machine for the mind, promises much greater
things; yet this sagacity, or learned experience, will in the
mean time scatter among mankind many matters, which, as
so many missive donatives among the ancients, are near at
hand.

The transferring of experiments from one part of an art
to another differs little from the transferring one art to ano
ther. But because some arts are so extensive as to allow of
the translation of experiments within themselves, it is proper
to mention this kind also, especially as it is of very great
moment in some particular arts. Thus it greatly contributes
to enlarge the art of medicine to have the experiments of
that part which treats of the cures of diseases, transferred to
those parts which relate to the preservation of health and
the prolongation of life. For if any famous opiate should,
in a pestilential distemper, suppress the violent inflammation
of the spirits, it might thence seem probable that something
of the same kind, rendered familiar by a due dose, might in
good measure check that wasting inflammation which steals
on with age.

An experiment is inverted when the contrary of what the
experiment shows is proved ; for example, heat is increased
by burning-glasses ; but may cold be so too ? So heat in dif
fusing itself rather mounts upwards, but cold in diffusing
itself rather moves downwards. Thus, if an iron rod be
headed at one end, then erected upon its heated end, and th«
2 o

194 ADVANCEMENT Of LEARNING. [BOOK V.

hand be applied to the upper part of the rod, the hand will
presently be burnt ; but if the heated end be placed upward
and the hand applied below, it will be burnt much slower.
But if the whole rod were heated, and one end of it wet with
snow or a sponge dipped in cold water, would the cold be
!:ooner propagated downwards than upwards if the sponge
were applied below? Again, the rays of the sun are reflected
from a white body, but absorbed by a black one. Are
shadows also scattered by black and collected by white
bodies ? We see in a dark place, where light comes in only
at a small hole, the images of external objects are received
upon white paper, but not upon black.

An experiment is compelled where it is urged or produced
to the annihilation or destruction of the power, the prey
being only caught in the other chases, but killed in this.
Thus the loadstone attracts iron, — urge, therefore, the iron,
or urge the loadstone, till they attract no longer; for ex
ample, if the loadstone were burnt, or steeped in aquafortis,
would it entirely, or only in part, lose its virtue ? So if iron
were reduced to a crocus, or made into prepared steel, aa
they call it, or dissolved in aquafortis, would the loadstone
still attract it 1 The magnet draws iron through all known
mediums, — gold, silver, glass, &c. Urge the medium, there
fore, and, if possible, find out one that intercepts the virtue.
Thus make trial of quicksilver, oil, gums, ignited gold, and
such things as have not yet been tried. Again, microscopes
have been lately introduced which strangely magnify minute
objects; urge the use of them, either by applying them to
objects so small that their power is lost, or so large till it is
confounded. Thus, for example, can microscopes clearly dis
cover those things in urine which are not otherwise percep
tible? Can they discover any specks or clouds in gems that
are perfectly clear and bright to appearance 1 Can they
magnify the motes of the sun, which Democritus mistook for
atoms and the principles of things ? 1 Will they show a
mixed powder of vermilion and ceruse in distinct grains of
red and white ? Will they magnify larger objects, — as the
face, the eye, &c., — as much as they do a gnat or a mite, or
represent a piece of fine linen open as a net ? But we need

« Episilea of Hippocrates, or Pliny's Nat History.

CHAP. II. j LITERATE EXPERIENCE. 195

not insist longer on compulsory experiments, as they do not
justly come within the limits of literate experience, but are
rather referred to axioms, causes, and the New Organum.

The application of an experiment is no more than an in
genious translation of it to some other experiment of use ;
tor example, all bodies have their own dimensions and gra
vities. Gold has more gravity and less bulk than silver, and
water than wine, — hence an useful experiment is derived for
discovering what proportion of silver is mixed with gold,
or of water with wine, from a knowledge of their measure
and weight, which was the grand discovery of Archimedes.1
Again, as flesh putrefies sooner in some cellars than in others,
it were useful to transfer this experiment to the examination
of airs, as to their being more or less wholesome to live in,
by finding those wherein flesh remains longest unputrefied ;
and the same experiment is applicable to discover the more
wholesome or pestilential seasons of the year. But examples
of this kind are endless, and require that men should have
their eyes continually turned one while to the nature of
things and another while to human uses.

The conjunction of an experiment is a connection and
chain of applications, when those things which were not use
ful single, are made useful by connection; for example, to
have roses or fruits come late, the way is to pluck off the
early buds, or to lay bare the roots and expose them to the
open air, towards the middle of spring; but it is much better
to do both together. So ice and nitre separate have a great
power of cooling, but a much greater when mixed together.
But there may be a fallacy in this obvious affair, as in all
cases where axioms are wanting, if the conjunction be made
in things that operate by different and, as it were, contrary
ways.8

r The means that Bacon proposes, and to which the chemists still
adhere, is the reverse of that of Archimedes. The ancient compared,
in his experiment, three bodies of the same weight, but of different
volume, while the text advises three bodies of the same volume, but of
different weight. This reversion, however, does not affect the result.
Ed.

• • Such are the compounds of very active substances, which chemist*
designate neuter : for example, the greater part of salts, as nitre, sea-
salt, the salt of Glauber, and generally all those substances composed
(of an acid united to an alkaline or earthy base. Ed.

o2

196 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V.

As for chance experiments, these arc plainly an irrational
and wild procedure, when the mind suggests the trial of a
thing, not because any reason or experiment persuades it,
but only because nothing of the kind has been tried before ;
yet even here, perhaps, some considerable mystery lies con
cealed, provided no stone in nature were left unturned ; for
the capital things of nature generally lie out of the beaten
paths, so that even the absurdness of a thing sometimes
proves useful. But if reason also be here joined, so as to
show that the like experiment never was attempted, and yet
that there is great cause why it should be; then this becomes
an excellent instrument, and really enters the bosom of
nature. For example, in the operation of tire upon natural
bodies it hath hitherto always happened that either some
thing Hies off, as flame and smoke in our common fires, or at
least that the parts are locally separated to some distance, as
in distillation, where the vapour rises and the faeces are left
behind; but no man hath hitherto tried close distillation.
Yet it seems probable, that if the force of heat may have its
action confined in the cavities of a body, without any pos
sibility of loss or escape, this Proteus of matter will be
manacled, as it were, and forced to undergo numerous trans
formations, provided only the heat be so moderated and
changed as not to break the containing vessel. For this is
a kind of natural matrix, where heat has its effect without
separating or throwing off the parts of a body. In a true
matrix, indeed, there is nourishment supplied ; but in point
of transmutation the case is the same. And here let none
despair or be confounded, if the experiments they attempt
should not answer their expectation ; for though success be
indeed more pleasing, yet failure, frequently, is no less in
forming ; and it must ever be remembered, that experiments
of light are more to be desired than experiments of profit.
And so much for learned experience, as we call it, which
thus appears to be rather a sagacity, or a scenting of nature,
as in hunting, than a direct science.1

1 This section appears to have l>een little understood even by some
eminent men, who censure the scheme of the author, and think tha*1
experiments must need be casual, and the human understanding un.ihlt
to direct and conduct them to useful purposes unless by accident. TU0
f&isfortune seems *.o lie here, that few con. ersi

CHAP. III.] STORE OF COMMON-PLACES. 197

As regards the Novum Organum, we shall state here
nothing either summarily or in detail, it being our intention,
with the Divine assistance, to devote an entire treatise to
that subject, which is more important than all the rest.

CHAPTER ITT.

Division of the Invention of Arguments into Promptuary, or Places of
Preparation, and Topical, or Places of Suggestion. The Division of
Topics into General and Particular. An Example of Particular Topics
afforded by an Inquiry into the Nature of the Qualities ot Light and
Heavy.

THE invention of arguments is not properly an invention ;
for to invent, is to discover things unknown before, and not
to recollect or admit such as are known already. The office
and use of this kind of invention seems to be no more than
dexterously to draw out from the stock of knowledge laid up
in the mind such things as make to the present purpose ; for
one who knows little or nothing of a subject proposed, has
no use of topics or places of invention, whilst he who is pro
vided of suitable matter, will find and produce arguments,
without the help of art and such places of invention, though
not so readily and commodiously ; whence this kind of in
vention is rather a bare calling to memory, or a suggestion
with application, than a real invention. But since the term
is already received, it may still be called invention, as the
hunting in a park may be called hunting no less than that in
the open field. But not to insist upon the word, the scope
and the end of the thing itself, is a quick and ready use of
our thoughts, rather than any enlargement or increase of
them.

There are two methods of procuring a stock of matter for
discourse ; viz., 1. either by marking out, and indicating the
parts wherein a thing is to be searched after, which is what
we call the topical way ; or 2. by laying up arguments for
use, that were composed beforehand, relating to such things

as to judge what may be done in this way ; or how the numerous dis
coveries of Lord Bacon, Mr. Boyle, Dr. Hook, Sir Isaac Newton, &c.,
weie made. An attentive perusal of the Novum Organum, where thli
fubject in largely prosecuted, will unravel the mystery. Skaw.

198 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V.

as frequently happen and come in dispute ; and this we call
the promptuaiy way : but the latter can scarce be called a
part of science, as consisting rather in diligence than any
artificial learning. Aristotle on this head ingeniously derides
the sophists of his time, saying, they acted like a professed
shoemaker, who did not teach the art of shoemaking, but set
out a large stock of shoes, of different shapes and sizes.0
But it might be replied, that the shoemaker who should have
no shoes in his shop, and only make them as they were be
spoke, would find few customers. Our Saviour speaks far
otherwise of divine knowledge, saying, " Therefore every scribe
which is instructed into the kingdom of heaven, is like unto
a man that is an householder, which brings forth out of his
treasure things new and old."b

"We find also that the ancient rhetoricians gave it in pre
cept to the orators to be always provided of various common
places, ready furnished and illustrated with arguments on
both sides ; as for the intention of the law against the words
of the law ; for the truth of arguments against testimonies,
and vice versa.0 And Cicero himself, being taught by long
experience, roundly asserts, that a diligent and experienced
orator should have such things as come into dispute, ready
laboured and prepared, so as that in pleading there should be
no necessity of introducing anything new or occasional, ex
cept new names, and some particular circumstances.*1 But as
the first opening of the cause has a great effect in preparing
the minds of the audience, the exactness of Demosthenes
judged it proper to compose beforehand, and have in
readiness, several introductions to harangues and speeches;6
and these examples and authorities may justly overrule the
opinion of Aristotle, who would have us change a whole
wardrobe for a pair of shears. This promptuary method,
therefore, should not be omitted; but as it relates as well to
rhetoric as to logic, we shall here touch it but slightly ;
designing to consider it more fully under rhetoric. f

We divide topical inventions into general and particular.
The general is so copiously and diligently treated in the

• De fteprehen. Soph. ii. 9. b St. Matt. xiii, 52.
e De Oratore. d Epistles to Atticus, vi. 16.

• The prefaces alluded to are of doubtful authority.
1 See hereafter, sect. 18.

CHAP. III.] TOPICS GENERAL AND SPECIAL, 199

common logics, tnat we need not dwell upon its explanation :
we only observe by the way, that this topical method is not
only used in argumentation and close conference, but also
in contemplation, when we meditate or revolve anything
alone. Nor is its office only confined to the suggesting or
admonishing us of what should be affirmed or asserted, but
also what we should examine or question ; a prudent ques
tioning being a kind of half-knowledge ; for, as Plato justly
observes, a searcher must have some general notion of the
thing he searches after, otherwise he could never know it
when he had found it ;& and therefore, the more comprehen
sive and sure our anticipation is, the more direct and short
will be the investigation. And hence the same topics which
conduce to the close examining into our own understandings,
and collecting the notices there treasured up, are likewise
assistant in drawing forth our knowledge. Thus, if a person,
skilful in the point under question, were at hand, as we
might prudently and advantageously consult him upon it ; in
like manner, we may usefully select and turn over authors
and books, to instruct and inform ourselves about those
things we are in quest of.

But the particular topical invention is much more con
ducive to the same purposes, and to be esteemed a highly
fertile thing. Some writers have lately mentioned it, but it
is by no means treated according to its extent and merit.
Not to mention the error and haughtiness which have too
long reigned in the schools, and their pursuing with infinite
subtilty such things as are obvious, without once touching
upon those that lie remote, we receive this topical invention
as an extremely useful thing, that affords certain heads of
inquiry and investigation appropriated to particular subjects
and sciences. These places are certain mixtures of logic and
the peculiar matter of each science. It is an idle thing, and
shows a narrow mind, to think that the art of discovering the
sciences may be invented and proposed in perfection from the
beginning, so as to be afterwards only exercised and brought
into use ; for men should be made sensible that the solid
and real arts of invention grow up and increase along with
inventions themselves ; so that when any one first comes to

a In Menone, ii. 80,

200 JMWAtfCEMfcNT OF LEARJfTKO. [BOOK V.

the thorough examination of a science, he should have some
useful rules of discovery ; but after he hath made a con
siderable progress in the science itself, he may, and ought, to
find out new rules of invention, the better to lead him still
farther. The way here is like walking on a flat, where, after
we have gone some length, we not only approach nearer the
end of our journey, but also have a clearer view of what
remains to be gone of it ; so in the sciences, every step of the
way, as it leaves some things behind, also gives us a nearer
prospect of those that remain : and as we report this parti
cular topical invention deficient, we think proper to give an
example of it in the subject of gravity and levity.

1. Let inquiries be made what kind of bodies are suscep
tible of the motion of gravity ; what of levity ; and if there
be any of a middle or neutral nature.

2. After the simple inquiry of gravity and levity, proceed
to a comparative inquiry; viz., which heavy bodies weigh
more, and which less, in the same dimensions ; and of like
ones, which mount upwards the swifter, and *yhich the
slower.

3. Inquire what effect the quantity of the body has in the
motion of gravity. This at first sight may appear a needless
inquiry, because motion may seem proportionable to quantity ;
but the case is otherwise. For although in scales quantity is
equal to the gravity, yet where there is a small resistance, as
in the falling of bodies through the air, quantity has but
little force to quicken the descent ; but twenty pounds of
lead, and a single pound, fall nearly in the same time.

4. Inquire whether the quantity of a body may be so in
creased as that the motion of gravity shall be entirely lost,
as in the globe of the earth, which hangs pendulous without
falling. Quaere, therefore, whether other masses may be so
b rge as to sustain themselves 1 For that bodies should move
to the centre of the earth is a fiction ; and every mass ol
ma tter has an aversion to local motion, till this be overcome
by some stronger impulse.

5. Inquire into the effects and nature of resisting mediums,
aa to their influencing the motion of gravity ; for a falling
body either penetrates and cuts through the body it meeta
in its way, or else is stopped by it. If it pass through, there
is a penetration, either with a small resistance, as in air, 01

CHAP, m.] EXAMPLES OF SPECIAL TOPICS. 201

with a greater, as in water. If it be stopped, it is stopped
by an unequal resistance, where there is a preponderance, as
when wood is laid upon wax ; or by an equal resistance, as
when water is laid upon water, or wood upon wood of the
same kind ; which is what the schools pretend, when they
idly imagine that bodies do not gravitate in their own places.
And all these circumstances alter the motion of gravity ; for
\eavy bodies move after one way in the balance, and after
another in falling : and, which may seem strange, after one
way in a balance suspended in the air, and after another
in a balance plunged in water ; after one way in falling
through water, and after another when floating upon it.

6. Inquire into the effects of the figure of the descending
body, in directing the motion of gravity : suppose of a figure
broad and thin, cubical, oblong, round, pyramidal, &c. : and
how bodies turn themselves whilst they remain in the same
position as when first let go.

7. Inquire into the effects of the continuation and pro
gression of the fall or descent itself, as to the acquiring a
greater impulse or velocity, and in what proportion and to
what length this velocity is increased; for the ancients, upon
slender consideration, imagined that this motion, being natural,
was always upon the increase.

8. Inquire into the effects of distance, or the near approach
of a body descending to the earth, so us to fall swifter,
slower, or not at all, supposing it were to be out of the
earth's sphere of activity, according to Gilbert's opinion ;
as also the effects of plunging the falling body deeper
into the earth, or placing it nearer the surface ; for this
also varies the motion, as is manifest to those who work in
dines.

0. Inquire into the effects of the difference of bodies,
through which the motion of gravity is diffused and com
municated ; and whether it is equally communicated through
soft and porous bodies, as through hard and solid ones. Thus
if the beam of a scale were one half of wood, and the other
half of silver, yet of the same weight ; inquire whether this
would not make an alteration in the scales : and again,
whether metal laid upon wool, or a blown bladder, would
weigh the same as in the naked scale

10. Inquire into the effects of the distance of a body from

202 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK V,

the point of suspension in the communication of the motion
of gravity ; that is, into the earlier or Jater perception ot its
inclination or depression : as in scales, where one side of the
beam is longer, though of the same weight with the other,
whether this inclines the beam ; or in siphons, where the
longer leg will draw the water, though the shorter, being
made wider, contains a greater weight of water.

11. Inquire into the effects of intermixing or coupling a
light body and a heavy one, for lessening the gravity of
bodies ; as in the weight of creatures alive and dead.

12. Inquire into the ascents and descents of the lighter
and heavier parts of one entire body : whence curious sepa
rations are often made, as in the separation of wine and
water, the rising of cream from milk, &c.

13. Inquire what is the line and direction of the motion
of gravity, and how far it respects the earth's centre, that is,
the mass of the earth ; or the centre of its own body, that
is, the appetite of its parts. For these centres are properly
supposed in demonstrations, but are otherwise unserviceable
in nature.

14. Inquire into the comparative motion of gravity, with
other motions, or to what motions it yields, and what it ex
ceeds. Thus in the motion they call violent, the motion of
gravity is withheld for a time ; and so when a large weight
of iron is raised by a little loadstone, the motion of gravity
gives way to the motion of sympathy.

15. Inquire concerning the motion of the air, whether it
rises upwards, or be as it were neutral, which is not easy to
be discovered without some accurate experiments ; for the
rising up of air at the bottom of water, rather proceeds from
a resistance of the water, than the motion of the air, since
the same also happens in wood. But air mixed with air
makes no discovery ; for air in air may seem as light, as
water in water seems heavy : but in bubbles, which are air
surrounded with a thin pellicle of water, it stands still for a
time.

16. Let the bounds of levity be inquired after; for though
men make the centre of the earth the centre of gravity,
they will perhaps hardly make the ultimate convexity of the
heavens the boundary of levity ; but rather, perhaps, as
heavy bodies seem to be carried so far, that tjiey rest, and

CHAP. IV.J INDUCTIVE AND SYLLOGISTIC INFERENCE. 203

grow as it were immovable ; light bodies are carried so far,
that they begin a rotation or circular motion.

17. Inquire the cause why vapours and effluvia are carried
so high as that called the middle region of the air, since the
matter of them is somewhat gross, and the rays of the sun
cease alternately by night.

18. Inquire into the tendency of flame upwards, which is
the more abstruse, because flame perishes every moment,
unless perhaps in the midst of larger flames ; for flames
broken from their continuity are of small duration.

19. Inquire into the motion and activity of heat upwards;
as when heat in ignited iron sooner creeps upwards than
downwards. And thus much by way of example of our
particular topical inquiry. We must, for a conclusion, admo
nish mankind to alter their particular topics in such manner,
as after some considerable progress made in the inquiry, to
raise topic after topic, if they desire to ascend to the pinnacle
of the sciences. For my own part, I attribute so much to
these particular topics, that I design a particular work upon
their use, in the more eminent and obscure subjects of nature ;
for we are masters of questions, though not of things. And
here we close the subject of invention,

CHAPTER IV.

The Art of Judgment divided into Induction and the Syllogism. Induo
tion developed in the Novum Organum. The Syllogism divided into
Direct and Inverse Reduction. Inverse Reduction divided into the
Doctrine of Analytics and Confutations. The Division of the latter
into Confutations of Sophisms, the Unmasking of Vulgarisms (Equi
vocal Terms), and the Destruction of Delusive Images or Idols.
Delusive Appearances divided into Idola Trihfa, Jdola Speeds, and
Jdola Fori. Appendix to the Art of Judgment. The Adapting the
Demonstration to the Nature of the Subject.

WE come now to the art of judgment, which treats of the
nature of proof or demonstration. This art, as it is com
monly received, concludes either by induction or syllogism :
for enthymemes and examples are only abridgments of these
two.a As to judgment by induction, we need not be large

a An enthymeme is no other than a syllogism of two propositions, the
iird being supplied by the mind, ag vhe word itself imports. Ed.

204 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V,

upon it, because what is sought we both find and judge of,
by the same operation of the mind. Nor is the matter here
transacted by a medium, but directly almost in the same
manner as by the sense ; for sense, in its primary objects, at
once seizes the image of the object, and assents to the truth
of it. It is otherwise in syllogism, whose proof is not direct,
but mediate ; and, therefore, the invention of the medium
is one thing, and judgment, as to the consequence of an
argument, another : for the mind first casts about, and after
wards acquiesces. But for the corrupt form of induction,
we entirely ignore it, and refer the genuine one to our
method of interpreting nature. And thus much of judg
ment by induction.

The other by syllogism is worn by the file of many a sub
tile genius, and reduced to numerous fragments, as having a
great sympathy with the human understanding ; for the
mind is wonderfully bent against fluctuating, and endeavours
to find something fixed and immovable, upon which, as a
firm basis, to rest in its inquiries. And as Aristotle endea«
vours to prove that, in all motion of bodies, there is some*
thing still at rest, and elegantly explains the ancient fable of
Atlas, sustaining the heavens on his shoulders, of the poles
of the world, about which the revolutions are performed : b
so men have a strong desire to retain within themselves an
atlas, or pole for their thoughts, in some measure to govern
the fluctuations and revolutions of the understanding, as
otherwise fearing their heaven should tumble. And hence
it is, that they have been ever hasty in laying the principles
of the sciences, about which all the variety of disputes might
turn without danger of falling ; not at all regarding, that
whoever too hastily catches at certainties shall end in doubts,
as he who seasonably withholds his judgment shall arrive at
certainties.

It is therefore manifest that this art of judging by
syllogism is nothing more than a reduction of propositions
to their principles by middle terms.0 But principles are

b Animal. Mot. 3.

e Bacon here only gives us a loose translation of the Dictum de om'.tt
et nullo, as inclosing the essentiality of the syllogism. Thus, to develop
his thought, when a certain attribute does not appear to belong to a
proposed subject, the logician presents another subject, in which the con
tested quality is admitted by his hearers to enter, and having shown thai

CHAP. IV.] THE DOCTRINE OF CONFUTATIONS. 205

supposed to bo received by consent, and exempt from
question, whilst the invention of middle terms is freely per
mitted to the subtilty and investigation of the wit. This
reduction is of two kinds, direct and inverse. It is direct
when the proposition itself is reduced to the principle,
and this is called ostensive proof: it is inverse when the
contradictory of the proposition is reduced to the contra
dictory of the principle, which they call proof by absurdity :
but the number or scale of the middle term is diminished,
or increased, according to the remoteness of the proposition
from the principled

Upon this foundation we divide the art of judgment nearly,
as usual, into analytics, and the doctrine of clenches, or con
futations ; the first whereof supplies direction, and the other
caution : for analytics directs the true forms of the con
sequences of arguments, from which, if we vary, we make a
wrong conclusion. And this itself contains a kind of clench,
or confutation ; for what is right shows not only itself, but
also what is wrong. Yet it is safest to employ clenches as
monitors, the easier to discover fallacies, which would other
wise ensnare the judgment. We find no deficiency iu

this newsubject — the middle term— may be affirmed of the original subject
with which he set out, he concludes that its inseparable attribute must
also belong to it. If these two primary propositions, viz. those which
affirm the attribute of the middle term, and connect this term with the
original subject, need proof, he is obliged to seek other middle terms,
and employ them in the same manner, until he establish his disputed
premises on the basis of experience or consentaneous principles. If
such fundaments, common to the minds of the disputants, do not
exist, the argument is nugatory, and rational conviction impossi
ble. Ed.

d For no proof can be considered conclusive, unless the conclusion he
an immediate consequence from the propositions which involve the
last middle term. Now, if the proposition we seek to establish be par-
ticular (singular), and the principle from which we set out general
(universal), it is clear thnt, to connect principle and consequent, we
must either climb gradually from principles less general to ones more
enlaiged, until we reach a proposition which connects the last consequent
with the general principle in question ; or we must descend by a similar
gradation from principles less general to others more particular, until we
reach the proposition which affirms the last consequence of the particular
conclusion. The number, therefore, of these intermediate links, must
augment or diminish in proportion to the interval wbi -fa separates the
l>riiu'.ii)lf ana consequent. AVi

206 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. JBOOIC ?

analytics; for it is rather loaded with superfluities than defi
cient.6

We divide the doctrine of confutations into three parts ;
viz., 1. The confutation of sophisms ; 2. The confutation of
interpretation ; and 3. The confutation of images or idols.
The doctrine of the confutation of sophisms is extremely
useful : for although a gross kind of fallacy is not improperly
compared, by Seneca, to the tricks of jugglers/ where wo
know not by what means the things are performed, but are
well assured they are not as they appear to be, yet the moro
Bubtile sophisms not only supply occasions of answer, bur.
also in reality confound the judgment. This part concerning;
the confutation of sophisms is, in precept, excellently treated
by Aristotle, but still better by Plato, in example ; not only
in the persons of the ancient sophists, Gorgias, Hippias,
Protagoras, Euthydemus, &c., but even in the person of
Socrates himself. ° who, always professing to affirm nothing,
but to confute what was produced by others, has ingeniously
expressed the several forms of objections, fallacies, and con-
Stations. Therefore in this part we find no deficiency, but
only observe by the way, that though we place the true
and principal use of this doctrine in the confutation of
sophisms, yet it is plain that its degenerate .and corrupt
use tends to the raising of cavils and contradictions, by
means of those sophisms themselves; which kind of faculty is
highly esteemed, and has no small uses, though it is a good
distinction made between the orator and the sophist, that
the former excels in swiftness, as the greyhound, the other
in the turn, as the hare.

With regard to the confutations of interpretation, we
must here repeat what was formerly said of the transcen
dental and adventitious conditions of beings, such as greater,
less, whole, parts, motion, rest, <fcc. For the different way
of considering these things, which is either physically or
logically, must be remembered.11 The physical treatment of

* Upon the subject of analytics, see Weigelius in his "Analysis
Aristotelica, ex Euclide restituta;" and Morhof in his " Polyhistor,**
torn. i. lib. ii. c. 7, de Methodis variis.

i Epist. 45, c. 7. * See the opening of the Theretetus.

1 b He might have added, mathematically, as greater and -CSd liav«
different significations in arithmetic and algebra. Ed.

CHAP. IV. J* CONFUTATION OF IDOLS. 207

them we have allotted to primary philosophy, but their
logical treatment is what we here call the confutation of
interpretation. And this we take for a sound and excellent
part of learning, as general and common notions, unless
accurately and judiciously distinguished from their origin,
are apt to mix themselves in all disputes, so as strangely to
cloud and darken the light of the question, and frequently
occasion the controversy to end in a quarrel about words :
for equivocations and wrong acceptations of words, especially
of this kind, are the sophisms of sophisms ; ' wherefore it is
better to treat of them separate than either to receive them
into primary philosophy or metaphysics, or again, to make
them a part of analytics, as Aristotle has confusedly done.
We give this doctrine a name from its use, because its true use
is indeed redargution and caution about the employing of
words. So, likewise, that part concerning predicaments, if
rightly treated, as to the cautions against confounding or
transposing the terms of definitions and divisions, is of prin
cipal use, and belongs to the present article. And thus
much for the confutation of interpretation.

As to the confutations of images, or idols, we observe that
idols are the deepest fallacies of the human mind ; for they
do not deceive in particulars, as the rest, by clouding and
ensnaring the judgment ; but from a corrupt predisposition,
or bad complexion of the mind, which distorts and infects
all the anticipations of the understanding. For the mind,
darkened by its covering the body, is far from being a flat,
equal, and clear mirror that receives and reflects the rays
without mixture, but rather a magical glass, full of super
stitions and apparitions. Idols are imposed upon the under
standing, either, 1. by the general nature of mankind ; 2. the
nature of each particular man ; or 3. by words, or commu-
cative nature. The first kind we call idols of the tribe ;
the second kind, idols of the den ; and the third kind, idols
of the market. There is also a fourth kind, which we call
idols of the theatre, being superinduced by false theories, or
philosophies, and the perverted laws of demonstration. This
last kind we are not at present concerned with, as it may be

1 Rather, vulgarisms ; since sophisms imply a i:se of the intellect,
though a perverted use ; but the wrong acceptations ot worci'3 imjity no
use at all. Ed.

208 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V.

rejected and laid aside ; but the others seize the mind
strongly, and cannot be totally eradicated. Therefore no
art of analytics can be expected here, but the doctrine of the
confutation of idols is the primary doctrine of idols. Nor
indeed can the doctrine of idols be reduced to an art, but
can only be employed by means of a certain contemplative
prudence to prevent them.

For the idols of the tribe,k it is observable, that the nature
of the understanding is more affected with affirmatives and
actives than with negatives and privatives, though in just
ness it should be equally affected with them both ; but if
things fall out right, or keep their course, the mind receives
a stronger impression of this than of a much greater number
of failures, or contrary events, which is the root of all super
stition and credulity. Hence Diagoras, being shown in
Neptune's temple many votive pictures of such as had
escaped shipwreck, and thereupon asked by his guide, if he
did not now acknowledge the divine power? answered
wisely, " But first show me where those are painted that were
shipwrecked, after having thus paid their vows."1 And the
case is the same, in the similar superstitions of astrological
predictions, dreams, omens, &c. Again, the mind, being of
itself an equal and uniform substance, presupposes a greater
unanimity and uniformity in the nature of things than there
really is, as may be observed in astronomical mathematicians,
who, rejecting spiral lines, assert that the heavenly bodies
move in perfect circles ,m whence our thoughts are continually
drawing parallels, and supposing relations in many things
that are truly different and singular. Hence the chemists
have fantastically imagined their four principles correspond-

k These might otherwise be called partial idols, as owing to the par
tiality or obliquity of the mind, which has its particular bent, and
admits of some things more readily than others, without a manifest
reason assigned for it to the understanding. However this be, they
manifestly belong to the tribe of mankind. £haw.

1 Cicero, Natur. Deor. v. 9.

m The observations of Bradley and Molyneux directly establish the
elliptical orbit, in which the earth performs its yearly revolution. The
spiral lines, which Bacon suggests in place of the concentric and ellip
tical theory, are only the apparent paths -which the planets seem to
follow when viewed by the naked eye, and have long since, with
the cumber«cme machinery oi Ptolemy, been swept iron* U»« he*ve::s £'tt

OftAi*. IV.] CONFUTATION OP IDOLS. 209

ing to the heavens, air, earth, and water ; dreaming that the
series of existences formed a kind of square battalion, and
that each element contained species of beings corresponding
to each other, and possessing, as it were, parallel properties."
And again, men make themselves, as it were, the mirror
and rule of nature. It is incredible what a number of
idols have been introduced into philosophy by the reduc
tion of natural operations to a correspondence with human
actions ; that is, by imagining nature acts as man does,
which is not much better than the heresy of the anthro-
pomorphites, that sprung up in the cells and solitude of
ignorant monks ;° or the opinion of Epicurus, who attributed
a human figure to the gods. Velleius the Epicurean need
not, therefore, have asked why God should have adorned the
heavens with stars and lights, as master of the works] For
if the grand architect had acted a human part, he would
have ranged the stars into some beautiful and elegant ordet,
as we see in the vaulted roofs of palaces ; whereas we scarce
find among such an infinite multitude of stars any figuro
either square, triangular, or rectilinear ; so great a difference
is there betwixt the spirit of man, and the spirit of the
universe.

The idols of the den have their origin from the peculiar
nature, both of mind and body, in each person ; as also from
education, custom, and the accidents of particular persons.
It is a beautiful emblem, that of Plato's den ;P for, to drop
the exquisite subtilty of the parable, if any one should bo
educated from his infancy in a dark cave till he were of full
age, and should then of a sudden be brought into broad day
light, and behold this apparatus of the heavens and of things,
no doubt but many strange and absurd fancies would arise
in his mind ; and though men live indeed in the view of
the heavens, yet our minds are confined in the caverns of
our bodies ; whence of necessity we receive infinite images
of errors and falsehoods, if the mind does but seldom, and
only for a short continuance, leave its den, and not constantly
dwell in the contemplation of nature, as it were, in the open
daylight. And with this emblem of Plato's den agrees the

• This hypothesis gave rise to the romance of Lamekis.
0 Epiphanius, adv. Haer. p. 811, in which the heresy of Audiu* if
explained. t Repub. vii.

2 f

210 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK V.

Baying of Heraclitus ; viz., that men seek the sciences in
their own narrow worlds, and not in the wide one.

But the idols of the market give the greatest disturbance,
and from a tacit agreement among mankind, with regard to
the imposition of words and names, insinuate themselves into
the understanding : for words are generally given according
to vulgar conception, and divide things by such differences
as the common people are capable of: but when a more
acute understanding, or a more careful observation, would
distinguish things better, words murmur against it. The
remedy of this lies in definitions; but these themselves are
in many respects irremediable, as consisting of words : for
words generate words, however men may imagine they have
a command over words, and can easily say they will speak
with the vulgar, and think with the wise. Terms of art
also, which prevail only among the skilful, may seem to
remedy the mischief, and definitions premised to arts in the
prudent mathematical manner, to correct the wrong accep
tation of words ; yet all this is insufficient to prevent the
seducing incantation of names in numerous respects, their
doing violence to the understanding, and recoiling upon it,
from whence they proceeded. This evil, therefore, requires a
new and a deeper remedy ; but these things we touch lightly
at present, in the mean time noting this doctrine of grand
confutations, or the doctrine of the native and adventitious
idols of the mind, for deficient.

There is also wanting a considerable appendix to the art
of judgment. Aristotle indeed marks out the thing, but has
now icre delivered the manner of effecting it. The design is
'10 show what demonstrations should be applied to what
subjects, so that this doctrine should contain the judging of
judgments. For Aristotle well observes, that we should not
require demonstrations from orators, nor persuasion from
mathematicians ;* so that if we err in the kind of proof,
judgment itself cannot be perfect. And as there are four
kinds of demonstration, viz., 1. by immediate consent and
common notions ; 2. by induction ; 3. by syllogism ; and 4.
by congruity,r which Aristotle justly calls demonstration in

i Ethics, xiii. 1.

* Analogical demonstration, or proof a latere, to which Bacon aeemi
to refer, consists in showing that the disputed attribute may be affinred

CHAP. V.] THE NATURE OF MEMORY.

circle,8 each of these demonstrations has its peculiar subjects,
and parts of the sciences, wherein they are of force, and
others again from which they are excluded ; for insisting
upon too strict proofs in some cases, and still more the faci
lity and remissness in resting upon slight proofs in others, is
what has greatly prejudiced and obstructed the sciences.
And so much for the art of judgment.

CHAPTER V.

Division of the Retentive Art into the Aids of the Memory and the
Nature of the Memory itself. Division of the Doctrine of Memory
into Prenotion and Emblem.

WE divide the art of memory, or the keeping and retain
ing of knowledge, into two parts ; viz., the doctrine of helps

of several subjects analogical to the one proposed, and thence proceeds
to draw the inference that such attribute enters also into the subject in
question. In addition to these three last kinds of mediate positive
proof, there are three others, which may be called mediate negative ;
viz., 1. d> posteriori, which in inferring conclusions erroneous from the
contradictory of that which is sought to be maintained, shows that the
opposition is formed on false principles, and establishes the truth of
their contradictories. 2. d, priori, which in showing that the contra
dictory of the original proposition is a necessary consequence of some
exploded principle, and also contradictory to the principle of which the
contested proposition is also a consequence, infers the truth of such pro
position with the principle of which it is a corollary. 3. d latere, whose
object is to show that the attribute diametrically opposite to the one in
question, agrees with a subject also diametrically opposite to the one
proposed, that the last attribute may be inferred to agree with the
last subject. Ed.

1 Bacon seems to imply that Aristotle not only admitted demonstration
in a circle, but even understood it in the sense of analogical proof or
demonstration a latere ; whereas the Stagyrite only introduced the term
for the purpose of controverting it. Some of the ancient materialists,
in order to rid themselves of the illogical consequences of a series of
proofrf ad infinitum, in which the denial of first principles involved them,
asserted the possibility of demonstrating all things from each other, a
line of argument in which the chain of proof would run into itself :
u\Ad TTO.VTWV tlvai, cnrodti^iv ovfiiv KwXvtt' tfCt\(Tai yap KVK\^
ytv'icQai Tt}i- a7ro£ti£t»/ icai t£ d\X»;\wv. (Arist. Anal. Post. i. 3.) The
Stagyrite, however, conironted this assertion with the reason, that de
monstration could only be effected by evolving new truths out of things
prior and more known, and pronounced the formation of a body of sci
entific truths without admitting first principles more palpable to tha
mind than any proof could make them, impossible. See, also, Arist,
A.nalyt, Pri. ii. 5, 1. Ed.

212 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAMflSO. [BOOK V.

for the memory, and the doctrine of the memory itself. The
help for the memory is writing ; and we must observe, that
the memory, without this assistance, is unequal to things of
length and accuracy, and ought not otherwise to be trusted.
And this holds particularly in inductive philosophy, and in
the interpretation of nature ; for one might as well under
take to make an almanack by the memory, without writing,
as to interpret nature by bare contemplation. Scarce any
thing can be more useful in the ancient and popular sciences
than a true and solid help for the memory, that is, a just
and learned digest of common-places. Some, indeed, con
demn this method as prejudicial to erudition, hindering the
course of reading, and rendering the memory indolent ; but
as it is a wrong procedure in the sciences to be over-hasty
and quick, we judge it is of great service in studies, unless a
man be solid, and completely instructed, to bestow diligence
And labour in setting clown common-places ; as it affords
matter to invention, and collects and strengthens the judg
ment. But among all the methods and common-place books
we have hitherto seen, there is not one of value ;a as savouring
of the school rather than the world, and using rather vulgar
and pedantical divisions than such as any wuy penetrate
things.

And for the memory itself, it seems hitherto to have been
negligently and superficially inquired into. There is, indeed,
some art of memory extant ; but I know that much better
precepts for confirming and enlarging the memory may be
had than this art contains, and that a better practice of the
art itself may be formed than what is at present received.
And I doubt not, if any one were disposed to make an osten
tatious show of this art, that many surprising things might be
performed by it ; and yet, as now managed, it is but barren
and useless. "We do not, however, pretend that it spoils or
surcharges the natural memory, which is the common objec
tion, but that it is not dexterously applied for assisting the
memory in real business, and serious affairs. But this turn,

• Upon the subject of common-place, consult Morhofs " Polyhistor,"
torn. i. lib. i. cap. 21, de Locorum Ccmmunium Scriptoribus ; Mr.
Locke's common-place, in his "Discourse of the Conduct of the Under
lUnding ;" and Julian's " Einploi du Teinps."

CHAP. V.] THE ART OF MEMORY. 213

perhaps, I may receive from the political course of life I liavo
led, never to value what has the appearance of art without
any use. For immediately to repeat a multitude of names,
or words, once repeated before, or off-hand to compose a
great number of verses upon a subject, or to touch any mat
ter that occasionally turns up with a satirical comparison, or
to turn serious things into jest, or to elude anything by con
tradiction, or cavil, &c., of all which faculties there is a great
fund in the mind, and which may, by a proper capacity and
exercise, be carried to almost a miraculous height ; yet I
esteem all the things of this kind no more than rope-dancing,
antic postures, and feats of activity. And indeed they are
nearly the same things, the one being an abuse of the bodily,
as the other is of the mental powers ; and though they may
cause admiration, they cannot be highly esteemed.

This art of memory has two intentions ; viz., prenotion
and emblem. By prenotion we understand the breaking off
of an endless search ; for when one endeavours to call any
thing to mind without some previous notion, or perception
of what is sought for, the mind strives and exerts itself,
endeavours and casts about in an endless manner ; but if it
hath any certain notion beforehand, the infinity of the
search is presently cut short, and the mind hunts nearer
home as in an inclosure. Order, therefore, is a manifest help
to memory ; for here there is a previous notion, that the
things sought for must be agreeable to order. And thus
verse is easier remembered than prose, because if we stick at
any word in verse, we have a previous notion that it is such
a word as must stand in the verse, and this prenotion is the
first part of artificial memory. For in artificial memory we
have certain places digested, and proposed beforehand ; be/
we make images extemporary as they are required, wherein,
we have a previous notion that the image must be such as
may, in some measure, correspond to its place ; while this
stimulates the memory, and, as it were, strengthens it to find
out the thing sought tor.

But emblems bring down intellectual to sensible things;
for what is sensible always strikes the memory stronger, and
eooner impresses itself than what is intellectual. Thus th$
y ot brutes ig excited by sensible, but uot by iijtei

214 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VI,

lectual things. And, therefore, it is easier to retain the
image of a sportsman hunting the hare, of an apothecary
ranging his boxes, an orator making a speech, a boy re
peating verses, or a player acting his part, than the corre
sponding notions of invention, disposition, elocution, memory,
and action. There are also other things that contribute to
assist the memory, but the art at present in use consists of
the two above mentioned ;b and to treat of the particular
defects of the arts is foreign to our present purpose.

SIXTH BOOK.

CHAPTER I.

Division of Tradition into the Doctrine of the Organ, the Method and
the Illustration of Speech. The Organ of Speech divided into the
Knowledge of the Marks of Things, of Speaking, and "Writing. The
two last comprise the two Branches of Grammar. The Marks of
Things divided into Hieroglyphics and Real Characters. Grammar
again divided into Literary and Philosophical. Prosody referred to
the Doctrine of Speech, and Ciphers to the Department ot Writing.

ANY man may, excellent King, when he pleases, take the
liberty to jest and laugh at himself or his own projects.
Who, then, knows, — as there is a book in the famous library
of St. Victor, entitled " Formicarum Artium,"a whether our
book may not be an accidental transcript of its contents.
We have indeed only accumulated a little heap of dust, and
deposited therein many grains of the arts and sciences
whereto ants may creep to repose awhile, and then betake
themselves to their labours : nay, the wisest of kings points
out the ant as an example to those whose only care is to

b I suppose that the art of memory, now commonly taught by memory-
masters, is little more than a lecture upon the foundations here laid
down ; and perhaps their secrets are disclosed in Sir Hugh Plat's
"Jewel House of Art and Nature," printed in London in the year 1653.
See page 77 — 80 of that edition. Consult also upon the means of im
proving the memory, Morhof's "Polyhistor," torn. i. lib. ii. cap. 4,
de Subsidiis dirigendi Judicii. Shaw. [Grey's " Memoria Technica **
and Fiinagle'a "Art of Memory" nre the modern works on the sami
tubject. Ed.} • Pantagru-el, ii. 7, p. 76.

CHAP. I.] WORDS AND THEIR SIGNS. 215

live upon the main stock, neglecting to cultivate the fields
of science, and reap a new harvest of discoveries.1*

We next proceed to the art of delivering, uttering, and
communicating such things as are discovered, judged of, and
treasured up in the memory ; and this we call by the general
name of traditive doctrine, which takes in all the arts relating
to words and discourse. For although reason be as the soul
of discourse, yet they ought both to be treated separate, no
less than the soul and body. We divide this traditive doc-
trine into three parts; viz., with regard, 1. to the organ; 2. the
method; and 3. the illustration or ornament of speech and
discourse.

The vulgar doctrine of the organ of speech called grammar
is of two kinds, the one having relation to speaking, the
other to writing. For, as Aristotle well observed, words aro
the marks of thoughts, and letters of words ; and we refer
both of these to grammar.0 But before we proceed to its
several parts, it is necessary to say something in general ol
the organ of this traditive doctrine, because it seems to have
more descendants besides words and letters. And here we
observe, that whatever may be split into differences, suffi
ciently numerous for explaining the variety of notions,
provided these differences are sensible, may be a means 01
conveying the thoughts from man to man ; for we find that
nations of different languages hold a commerce, in some
tolerable degree, by gestures. And from the practice 01
some persons born deaf and dumb, but otherwise ingenious,
we see conversation may be held betwixt them and such of
their friends as have learned their gestures. And it is now-
well known, that in China and the more eastern provinces,
they use at tliis day certain real, not nominal characters,d to

b Pantagruel, ii. 6, 6. c Interpret, i. 2.

d The original is, "nee literas nee verba," which in Latin signify oral as
well as written Language ; so that, to avoid equivocation, we should annex
the two adjectives, sonorous nnd written, to fix their signification. With
regard to the relation which exists between the oral and written speech
D£ the Chinese, it is, as the text would imply, not different from that
which prevails among us. In articulating, we pronounce as the Chinese
the sonorous signs which correspond to the written words, and their art
of reading, no less than ours, consists in the struggle to transplant thia
correspondence in our minds, and learn its reciprocal relations. Even
blowing that the Chinese, in addition to their vulgar tongue, lad

216 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VI,

express, not their letters or words, but things and notions;
insomuch, that numerous nations, though of quite different
languages, yet, agreeing in the use of these characters, hold
correspondence by writing.6 And thus a book written in such
characters, may be read and interpreted by each nation in its
own respective language.

The signs of things significative without the help or in
terposition of words are therefore of two kinds, the one
congruous, the one arbitrary. Of the first kind, are hiero
glyphics and gestures ; of the second, real characters. The
use of hieroglyphics is of great antiquity, being held in
veneration, especially among that most ancient nation, the
Egyptians, insomuch that this seems to have been an early
kind of writing, prior to the invention of letters, unless,
perhaps, among the Jews.f And gestures are a kind of
transitory hieroglyphics ; for as words are fleeting in the
pronunciation, but permanent when written down, so hiero
glyphics, expressed by gesture, are momentary; but when

adopted hieroglyphical writing, so designed as to convey, without the in
terposition of oral signs, the exact ideas which they represent, yet each of
these signs would invariably awaken the idea which represented it in the
oral language, as well as the vocal word refer to the idea indicated by
the written hieroglyphic. The only persons who appear not to intrude
intermediate signs between the hieroglyphic and the idea which it con
veys to the mind, are those who are incapacitated by nature. But in
this respect there is no resemblance between the deaf and dumb and
our Asiatic contemporaries.

Bacon therefore has not seized the exact distinction between the
Chinese writing and our own, which consists not in dispensing with vocal
signs, but in the diversified elements of which it is composed. Our
language contains only twenty-five letters, while the Chinese letters are
as innumerable as our words ; and what makes the distinction perhaps
more startling, there never has been an attempt on the part of that
nation to analyze this infinite series of words, or to reduce them to the
common elements of vocal sounds. Through this want of philosophic
analysis, which characterizes nearly all the Asiatic tribes, the Chinese
may be said never perfectly to understand their own language. Ed.

e See Spizelius " De Re Literaria Chinensium," ed. Lugd. Bat.
1660 ; Webb's " Historical Essay upon the Chinese Language," printed
at London, 1669 ; Father Besnier's " Reunion des Langues;" Fathei le
Compe, and other of the Missionaries' Letters. Ed.

f See Causinus's "Polyhistor Symbolicus," and " Symbolica ^Egyp-
tiorum Sapientia," ed. Par. 1618. And for other writers upon this
Bubject, see Morhof's "Polyhistor," torn, i, lib, IV. cap. 2, d?

CHAP 7.] SIGNS OP THINGS WITHOUT WORDS. 217

painted, durable. When Periander, being consulted how to
preserve a tyranny newly usurped, bid the messenger report
what he saw ; and going into the garden, cropped all the tallest
flowers ; ° he thus used as strong an hieroglyphic as if he had
drawn it upon paper.

Again, it is plain that hieroglyphics and gestures have
always some similitude with the things signified, and are in
reality emblems ; whence we call them congruous marks of
things : but real characters have nothing of emblem, as being
no less mute than the elementary letters themselves, and in
vented altogether at discretion, though received by custom
as by a tacit agreement. Yet it is manifest that a great
number of them is required in writing ; for they must be as
numerous as the radical words. This doctrine, therefore,
concerning the organ of speech, that is, the marks of things,
we set down as wanting ; for although it may seem a matter
of little use, whilst words and writing with letters are much
more commodious organs of delivery ; yet we think proper
here to mention it as no inconsiderable thing. For whilst
we are treating, as it were, of the coin of intellectual matters,
it is not improper to observe that as money may be made of
other materials besides gold and silver, so other marks of
things may be invented besides words and letters.h

Grammar holds the place of a conductor in respect of the
other sciences; and though the office be not noble, it is
extremely necessary, especially as the sciences in our times
are chiefly derived from the learned languages. Nor should
this art be thought of small dignity, since it acts as an
antidote against the curse of Babel, the confusion of tongues.
Indeed, human industry strongly endeavours to recover those

* Arist. Polit. iii. 13. The person who sent to consult Periander wan
Thrasybulus of Miletus. Herodotus (v. 92) gives the opposite version of
the story, making Periander consult Thrasybulus. Compare the story
of Tarquin, told by Ovid, Fast. ii. 701.

k On this foundation, Bishop Wilkins undertook his laborious treatise
of a real character, or philosophical language ; though Dalgarn pub
lished a treatise on the same subject before him ; viz. at London, in the
year 1661 In the same year, Becher also published another to the
same purpose at Frankfort, entitled " Character pro Notitia Linguarum
Universal!. " See more upon this subject in Joachim Fritschii "Lingua
Ludovicea," Kircher's "Polygraphia," Paschius's " laven^a N

," and M'Tbofs "Polyb.is.tor,"

218 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VL

enjoyments it lost through its own default. Thus it guards
against the first general curse, the sterility of the earth, and
the eating our bread in the sweat of the brow, by all the
other arts ; as against the second, the confusion of languages,
it calls in the assistance of grammar. Though this art is of
little use in any maternal language, but more serviceable in
learning the foreign ones, and most of all in the dead ones,
which now cease to be popular, and are only preserved in
books.

We divide grammar also into two parts, — literary and philo
sophical; the one employed simply about tongues themselves,
in order to their being more expeditiously learned or more
correctly spoken, but the other is in some sort subservient to
philosophy ; in which view C«?sar wrote his books of Analogy,1
though we have some doubt whether they treated of the
philosophical grammar now under consideration. We suspect,
however, that they contained nothing very subtile or sublime,
but only delivered precepts of pure and correct discourse,
neither corrupted by any vulgar, depraved phrases, and cus
toms of speech, nor vitiated by affectation ; in which parti
cular the author himself excelled. Admonished by this
procedure, I have formed in my thoughts a certain grammar,
not upon any analogy which words bear to each other, but
such as should diligently examine the analogy or relation
betwixt words and things, yet without any of that hermeneu-
tical doctrine, or doctiine of interpretation, which is sub
servient to logic. It is certain that words are the traces or
impressions of reason; and impressions afford some indication
of the body that made them. I will, therefore, here give a
small sketch of the thing.

And first, we cannot approve that curious inquiry, which
Plato however did not contemn, about the imposition and
original etymology of names,k as supposing them not given
arbitrarily at first, but rationally and scientifically derived
and deduced. This indeed is an elegant, and, as it were, a
waxen subject, which may handsomely be wrought and
twisted ; but because it seems to search the very bowels of
antiquity, it has an awful appearance, though attended with
but little truth and advantage. But it would be a noble

1 Suetoniua's Life, v Cratyl,

CHAP. I.] GRAMMAR LITERARY AND PHILOSOPHICAL. 219

kind of a grammar, if any one, well versed in numerous
languages, both the learned and vulgar, should treat of their
various properties, and show wherein each of them excelled
and fell short ; for thus languages might be enriched by
mutual commerce, and one beautiful image of speech, or one
grand model of language for justly expressing the sense of the
mind, formed, like the Venus of Apelles, from the excellencies
of several. And thus we should, at the same time, have
some considerable marks of the genius and manners of people
and nations from their respective languages. Cicero agree
ably remarks, that the Greeks had no word to express the
Latin ineptum ;l " Because," says he, "the fault it denotes
was so familiar among them, that they could not see it in
themselves;" a censure not unbecoming the Roman gravity.
And as the Greeks used so great a licentiousness in com
pounding words, which the Romans so religiously abstained
from, it may hence be collected that the Greeks were better
fitted for arts, and the Romans for exploits ; as variety of
arts makes compound words in a manner necessary, whilst
civil business, and the affairs of nations, require a greater
simplicity of expression. The Jews were so averse to these
compositions, that they would rather strain a metaphor than
introduce them. Nay, they used so few words and so un
mixed, that we may plainly perceive from their language
they were a Nazarite people, and separate from other nations.
It is also worth observing, though it may seem a little
ungrateful to modern ears, that the ancient languages are full
of declensions, cases, conjugations, tenses, and the like ; but
the later languages, being almost destitute of them, slothful ly
express many things by prepositions and auxiliary verbs.
For from hence it may easily be conjectured, that the genius
of former ages, however we may flatter ourselves, was much
more acute than our own. And there are things enough of
this kind to make a volume. It seems reasonable, therefore,
to distinguish a philosophical grammar from a simple literary
one, and to set it down as deficient."1

1 Orator, ii. 4.

m Considerable pains have been bestowed upon this subject by rarioui
authors ; an account whereof is given by Morhof in his " Polyhistor."
See torn. i. lib. iv. cap. 3, 4, 5; or more particularly, Abraham Mylii
«'De Linguae Belgicse cum aliiaLinguiBCommunitate ;" Henrici Schsevi;

320 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VI,

All the accidence of words, — as sound, measure, accent, —
likewise belong to grammar; but the primary elements of
simple letters, or the inquiry with what percussion of the
tongue, opening of the mouth, motion of the lips, and use of
the throat, the sound of each letter is produced, has no rela
tion to grammar, but is a part of the doctrine of sounds, to
be treated under sense and sensible objects.11 The gramma
tical sound we speak of regards only sweetness and harsh
ness. Some harsh and sweet sounds are general; for there is
no language but in some degree avoids the chasms of concur
ring vowels or the roughness of concurring consonants. There
are others particular or respective, and pleasing or displeasing
to the ears of different nations. The Greek language abounds
in diphthongs, which the Roman uses much more sparingly,
and so of the rest. The Spanish tongue avoids letters of
a shrill sound, and changes them into letters of a middle tone.
The languages of the Teutonic stock delight in aspirates, and
numerous others which we have not space to cite.

But the measure of words has produced a large body of
art ; viz., poetry, considered not with regard to its matter,
which was considered above, but its style and the structure
of words ; that is, versification ; which, though held as
trivial, is honoured with great and numerous examples.
Nor should this art, which the grammarians call prosodia, be
confined only to teaching the kinds of verse and measure ;
but precepts also should be added, as to what kind of verse
is agreeable to every subject. The ancients applied heroic
verse to encomium, elegy to complaint, iambic to invective,
and lyric to ode and hymn ; and the same has been pru
dently observed by the modern poets, each in his own
language : only they deserve censure in this, that some of
them, through affectation of antiquity, have endeavoured to
set the modern languages to ancient measure ; as sapphic,
elegiac, <fec., which is both disagreeable to the ear, and con-

•' Dissertationes Philologies de Origine Linguarum et quibusdam earum
attributes ;" Thorn. Hayne "De Linguis in genere, et de variarura
Linguarum Harmonia," in the appendix to his "Grammaticse Latina
Compendium," and Dr.Wallis's " Grammatica Linguae Anglican®." Ed.
11 This is the subject which J. Conrad. Amman has prosecuted with
great diligence, in his "Surdus loquen?," and "DissertatiodeLoquela j*
fcrst printed at Ams;er4aui in 1692, and the Uvrt in 1700,

CHAP, i.] PLAIN WRITING AKD CIPHER. 221

trary to the structure of such languages.0 And in these
cases, the judgment of the sense is to be preferred to the
precepts of art. As the poet says,

" Cocnse Ferculse nostrse

Mallcm convivis quam placuisse cocis."P

N"or is this an art, but the abuse of art, as it does not perfect
nature, but corrupt her. As to poetry, both with regard to
its fable and its verse, it is like a luxuriant plant, sprouting
not from seed, but by the mere vigour of the soil ; whence
it everywhere creeps up, and spreads itself so wide, that it
were endless to be solicitous about its defects. And as to
the accents of words, there is no necessity for taking notice
of so trivial a thing ; only it may be proper to intimate, that
these are observed with great exactness, whilst the accents of
sentences are neglected ; though it is nearly common to all
mankind to sink the voice at the end of a period, to raise it
in interrogation, and the like.9 And so much for that part
of grammar which regards speaking.

Writing is practised either by means of the common
alphabet, now vulgarly received, or of a secret and private
one, agreed upon betwixt particular persons, and called by
the name of cipher. But here a question arises about the
common orthography ; viz., whether words should be wrote as
they are pronounced, or after the common manner 1 Cer
tainly that reformed kind of writing, according to the pro
nunciation, is but an useless speculation, because pronunciation
itself is continually changing, and the derivations of words,
especially from the foreign languages, are very obscure ; and
lastly, as writing in the received manner no way obstructs
the manner of pronunciation, but leaves it free, an innovation
in it is to no purpose.

There are several kinds of ciphers, as the simple,1" those
mixed with non- significants,8 those consisting of two kinda

0 For some examples of this kind, see Southey's Epics.
P Martial, Epig. ix. 82.

1 The stage having cultivated the accentuation of sentences more than
the school, the rules of the art might, perhaps, to advantage, be bor
rowed from thence, in order to form an early habit of graceful speaking.
Shau-.

* In which each letter corresponds to a different letter of the alphabet.

• That is, joined to other letteir and words, the juncture of whicb

222 ADVANCEMENT OF LfiARNIKO. [BOOK VI,

of characters,* wheel-ciphers,11 key-ciphers,x word-ciphers,y <kc.
There are three properties required in ciphers; viz., 1. that,
they be easy to write and read ; 2. that they be trusty and
undecipherable ; and 3. if possible, clear of suspicion. For
if a letter should come into the hands of such as have a.
power over the writer or receiver, though the cipher itself
be trusty and impossible to decipher, it is still subject to ex
amination and question, unless there be no room to suspect
or examine it.

There is a new and useful invention to elude the examina
tion of a cipher; viz., to have two alphabets, the one of
significant, and the other of non-significant letters ; and
folding up two writings together, the one conveying the
secret, whilst the other is such as the writer might probably
send without danger. In case of a strict examination about
the cipher, the bearer is to produce the non-significant
alphabet for the true, and the true for the non-significant ;
by which means the examiner would fall upon the outward
writing, and finding it probable, suspect nothing of the
inner.z

But to prevent all suspicion, we shall here annex a cipher
of our own, that we devised at Paris in our youth, and which
has the highest perfection of a cipher — that of signifying

destroys the sense to an ordinary observer, which the first letters and
words are intended to convey. Ed.

' Abbreviated writing, or short-hand. Ed.

H This is a kind of dial, on which are drawn the circumferences of two
concentric circles, bordered by the letters of the alphabet. Each letter
being marked with a sign, we know to what letter of the exterior circle,
each of the interior corresponds in relation to its rank in the alphabet.
For example, suppose that it had been previously determined that the
letter f should represent a, g b, and h c, the receiver of the missive
whould turn the interior circle of the dial round until the a in this circle
pointed to / in the exterior, and then in the place of the letters in the
note he had received, he would read those which corresponded to them
in the interior circle. Ed.

x The key-ciphers are those figures which explain the latent senso
of the letter, and are either conveyed with it, or previously concerted by
those who are parties to the communication. Ed.

f Verbal ciphers are those which represent entire words. Ed.

» The publishing of this secret frustrates its intention ; for the ex
aminer, though he should find the outward letter probable, would
doubtless, when thus ad/ertised, examine the inner, notwithstanding it*
Alphabet were delivered to him for non-significants. Shaw.

. I.]

BV CIPHER KXPLAWfiD.

223

omnia per omnia (anything by everything),3 provided only
the matter included be live times less than that which
includes it, without any other condition or limitation. The
invention is this : first let all the letters of the alphabet bo
resolved into two only, by repetition and transposition ; for
a transposition of two letters through five places, or different
arrangements, will denote two and thirty differences, and
consequently fewer, or four and twenty, the number of letters
in our alphabet, as in the following example.

A B1LITERAL ALPHABET,

Consisting only of a and b changed through Jive places, so as to represent
all the letters of the common alphabet.

A

=

aaaaa

I

=

abaaa

R

=

baaaa

B

=

aaaab

K

=

abaab

S

_

baaab

0

=

aaaba

L

=

ababa

T

=

baaba

I)

=

aaabb

M

=

ababb

V

_

baabb

E

=

aabaa

N

=

abbaa

W

=

babaa

F

=

aabab

O

_

abbab

X

__

babab

o

=

aabba

P

_

abbba

Y

_

babba

11

=

aabbb

Q

=

abbbb

Z

=

babbb

Thus, in order to wiite an A, you write five a's, or aaaaa ;
and to write a B, you write four a's and one b, or aaaab ; and
so of the rest.

And here, by the way, we gain no small advantage, as
this contrivance shows a method of expressing and signifying
one's mind to any distance, by objects that are either visible
or audible — provided only the objects are but capable of two
differences, as bells, speaking-trumpets, fireworks, cannon, <kc.
But for writing, let the included letter be resolved into this
biliteral alphabet ; suppose that letter were the word FLY, it
is thus resolved :

FLY

aabab ababa babba.

Let there be also at hand two other common alphabets,
differing only from each other in the make of their letters ;
so that, as well the capital as the small be differently shaped
or cut at every one's discretion : as thus, for example, in
Roman and Italic ; each Roman letter constantly represent
ing A, and each Italic letter B.

* For this cipher is practicable in all things that are capable ci twa
differences.

224

ADVANCEMENT OP LBAHNlXQ, [fiOOB

THE FIRST, OB BOMAN ALPHABET.

A,

a

H,

h

0,

0

v,

V

B,

b

I,

i

P,

P

u

c,

c

j£

k

Q,

q

w

w

D,

d

L;

1

R,

r

x,

x

E,

e

M,

m

s,

s

Y,

y

f

N,

n

T,

t

Z.

z

G>

g

All the letters of this Roman alphabet are read or deci«
Inhered, by translating them into the letter A only.

THE SECOND, OR ITALIC ALPHABET.

A,

a

H,

fi

0,

o

F, v

£,

b

f.

i

P,

P

U. u

C,

c

K,

k

Q,

q

n; w

A

d

L,

I

R,

r

X, x

£,

e

M

m

s

s

Y, y

f,

f

N,

n

T,

t

Z, z

V,

9

All the letters of this Italic alphabet are read by trans
lating them into the letter B only.

Now adjust or fit any external double-faced writing, letter
by letter, to the internal writing, first made biliterate ; and
afterwards write it down for the letter or epistle to be sent.
Suppose the external writing were, tl Stay till I come to you,"
and the internal one were, " Fly;" then, as we saw above, the
word " Fly," resolved by means of the biliteral alphabet, is

PLY
aabab ababa babba

whereof I fit, letter by letter, the words " Stay till I come
to you," observing the use of my two alphabets of differently
shaped letters, thus :

aabab ababa babba
Stay t Hi co me to you.

Having now adjusted my writing according to all my alpha
bets, I send it to my correspondent, who reads the secret
meaning by translating the Roman letters into a's, and the
Italic ones into 6's, according to the Roman and Italic alpha
bets, and comparing each combination of five of them with
the biliteral alphabet.1*

b Those who desire a fuller explanation may consult Bishop Wilkins'i
" Secret and Swift Messenger," or rather Mr. Falconer's " Crypto-
Patefacta, or Art ot Secret Information disclosed without a

CflAP. I.] CIPHER ExEMFtmEB. 225

"We herewith annex a fuller example of the cipher of
writing " omnia per omnia," viz., an interior letter once sent
by the Ephores of Sparta in a scytale or round ciphered
staff: —

" Perditse res. Minidarus cecidit. Milites esuriunt, neque
hinc nos extricare, neque hie diutius manere possumus."

The exterior letter in which the above is involved is
taken from the first epistle of Cicero. We adjoin it : —

11 Ego omni officio ac potius pietate erga te, cseteris satis-
facio omnibus ; mihi ipse numquam satisfacio. Tanta est
enim magnitude tuorum erga me meritorum, ut quoniam tu
nisi perfecta re, de me non conquiesti. Ego quia non idem
tu tua causa efficio, vitara mihi esse acerbam putem. In
causa haec sunt ; Ammonius regis legatus aperte pecunia non
oppugnat. Res agitur per eosdem creditores per quos, cum
tu aderas, agebatur regis causa, si qui sunt, qui velint qui
pauci sunt, omnes ad Pompeium rem deferri volunt. Sena-
tus religionis calumniam, non religione, sed malevolentia, et
illius regiae largitionis invidia, comprobat, <fec."

The doctrine of ciphers has introduced another, relative to
it, viz., the art of deciphering without the alphabet of the.
cipher, or knowing the rules whereby it was formed. This
indeed is a work of labour and ingenuity, devoted, as well t*s
the former, to the secret service of princes. Yet by a iili-
gent precaution it may be rendered useless, though, as matters
now stand, it is highly serviceable : for if the ciphers in use
were good and trusty, several of them would absolutely elude
the labour of the decipherer, and yet remain commodious
enough, so as to be readily written and read. But through the
ignorance and unskilfulness of secretaries and clerks in the
courts of princes, the most important affairs are generally
committed to weak and treacherous ciphers.0 — And thus
much for the organ of speech.

Key." The trustiness of this cipher depends upon a dexterous use of
two hands, or two different kinds of letters, in the same writing, winch
the skilful decipherer, being thus advertised of, will be quicksighted
enough to discern, and consequently be able to decipher, though a
foundation seems here laid tor several other ciphers, that perhaps could
neither be suspected nor deciphered. Shaw.

c The art of ciphering is doubtless capable of great improvement. It

i« amd that King Charles I. had a cipher consisting only of a straight

line differently inclined ; and there are vays of ciphering by the

- U

£26 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. {fiOOK VI,

CHAPTER II.

Method of Speech includes a wide Part of Tradition. Styled the
Wisdom of Delivery. Various kinds of Methods enumerated. Their
respective Merits.

THE doctrine concerning the method of speech has been
usually treated as a part of logic ; it has also found a place
in rhetoric, under the name of disposition ; but the placing
of it in the train of other arts has introduced a neglect of
many useful things relating to it. We, therefore, think
proper to advance a substantial and capital doctrine of
method, under the general name of traditive prudence. But
as the kinds of method are various, we shall rather enumerate
than divide them ; but for one only method, and perpetually
splitting and subdividing, it scarce need be mentioned, as
being no more than a light cloud of doctrine that soon blows
over, though it also proves destructive to the sciences, be
cause the observers thereof, when they wrest things by the
laws of their metnod, and either omit all that do not justly
fall under their divisions, or bend them contrary to their
own nature, squeeze, as it were, the grain out of the sciences,
and grasp nothing but the chaff, — whence this kind of
method produces empty compendiums, and loses the solid
substance of the sciences.3

punctuation of a letter, whilst the words of the letter shall be non-signi
ficants, or sense, that leave no room for suspicion. It may also be worth
considering, whether the art of deciphering could not be applied to
languages, so as to translate, for instance, a Hebrew book without
understanding Hebrew. See Morhof, De variis Scripturse Modis,
"Polyhist." torn. i. lib. iv. cap. 2. and Mr. Falconer's " Cryptomenysis
Patefacta." Shaw.

• The design of Ramus, whose method of Dichotomies is here censured,
was to reduce all divisions and subdivisions to two members, with a view to
obtain a basis for the construction of dilemmas and disjunctive syllogisms,
We are never certain that these species of reasoning are legitimate, except
when the divisions out of which they rise are exact : arid the only test of1
this accuracy is to be sought in a dichotomous contradictory division,
where the supposition of one member necessarily leads to the exclusion
oi the other. This method ol exhausting a subject by an analytic ex
haustion of its parts, which he mainly derived from Plato, has its proper
sphere in logic ; and though condemned in the text, was employed by •
Bacon in many of his prerogative instances. The error of Ramus consisted
in taking only a part for the whole oi logic, and applying what is strictly-
pplicable to subjects of a po*wli»r uaturo, to the whole range ot inference.

CM At. 11 ] METHOD DOCTRINAL AND INITIATIVE. 227

Let the first difference of method be, therefore, betwixt
the doctrinal and initiative. By this we do not mean that
the initiative method should treat only of the entrance into
the sciences, and the other their entire doctrine ; but bor
rowing the word from religion, we call that method initia
tive which opens and reveals the mysteries of the sciences ;
BO that as the doctrinal method teaches, the initiative method
should intimate, the doctrinal method requiring a belief of
what is delivered, but the initiative rather that it should be
examined. The one deals out the sciences to vulgar learners,
the other as to the children of wisdom, — the one having for
its end the use of the sciences as they now stand, and the'
other their progress and farther advancement. But this
latter method seems deserted; for the sciences have hitherto
been delivered as if both the teacher and the learner desired
to receive errors by consent, — the teacher pursuing that
method which procures the greatest belief to his doctrine,
not that which most commodiously submits it to examina
tion, whilst the learner desires present satisfaction without
waiting for a just inquiry, as if more concerned not to doubt
than not to mistake. Hence the master, through desire of
glory, never exposes the weakness of his own science, and
the scholar, through his aversion to labour, tries not his own
strength ; whereas knowledge, which is delivered to others
as a web to be further wove, should if possible be introduced
into the mind of another in the manner it was first pro
cured; and this may be done in knowledge acquired by

It is evident, however, that the dichotomous process can only be employed
in the investigation of subjects which admit of a twofold contradictory
division, and that where the primitive elements are composed of lour or
tive distinct members, the method is totally inapplicable. Its use, there
fore, ought to be attended with the greatest caution, as the Kamist can
hardly be certain that the twofold division, in many cases, is not
more apparent than real, and that a further analysis would not neces
sitate a multiform classification. For want of this foresight, Ramus,
with all his subtilty, falls into inconceivable errors, and a great many
of Bacon's exemplifications of his method in the crucial instance aro
direct paralogisms. Milton framed a logic on the model of Itamus's
method, seduced rather by the bold antagonism of the latter against
Aristotle, than by its philosophic justness. Both the original and the
copy are now forgotten, and Kamus is committed to the judgment of
posterity rather on his absurdities than hia merits. See Hooker, i. Gt
with Keble's note. Ed.

228 ADVASCEMfcST OP MCAfcKlSa. [oOOlv VI.

induction ; but for that anticipated and hasty knowledge we
have at present it is not easy for the possessor to say by
what isoad he came at it. Yet in a greater or less degree
any one might review his knowledge, trace back the steps of
his own thoughts, consent afresh, and thus transplant his
knowledge into the mind of another as it grew up in his
own. For it is in arts as in trees, — if a tree were to be used,
no matter for the root, but if it were to be transplanted, it
is a surer way to take the root than the slips. So the trans
plantation now practised of the sciences makes a great show,
as it were, of branches, that without the roots may be fit
indeed for the builder, but not for the planter. He who
would promote the growth of the sciences should be less
solicitous about the trunk or body of them, and bend his care
to preserve the roots, and draw them out with some little
earth about them. Of this kind of transplantation there
is some resemblance in the method of mathematicians ;b but
in general we do not see that it is either used or inquired
after; we therefore place it among the deficiencies, under
the name of the traditive lamp, or a method for posterity.0

There is another difference of method, bearing some rela
tion to the former intention, though in reality almost op
posite to it • both of them have this in common, that they
separate the vulgar audience from the select; but herein they
are opposite, that the former introduces a more open and the
other a more secret way of instruction than the common;
hence let them be distinguished, by terming the former plain
or open, and the latter the learned or concealed method, thus
transferring to the manner of delivery the difference made
use of by the ancients, especially in publishing their books
This concealed or enigmatical method was itself also em
ployed by the ancients with prudence and judgment, but is
of late dishonoured by many, who use it as a false light to
set oft their counterfeit wares. The design of it seems to

b To this purpose see Wolfius's "Brevis Commentatio de Methodo
Mathematica," prefixed to his "Elements Matheseos Universae;" aa
also his "Logics and Metaphysics." Shaw.

c Perhaps M. Tschirnhaus's " Medicina Mentis, sive Tentamen
genuinoe Logicae, in qua disseritur de Methodo detegendi incognitas
Veritates," may pave the way for supplying this desideratum ; proceed
ing ai it does upon a mathematical and algebraical foundation, to rais«
» method of discovering unknown truths. Shaw.

CHAP. II.] METHOD APHORISTIC AND REGULAR. 229

have been, by the veil of tradition to keep the vulgar froiu
the secrets of sciences, and to admit only such as had, by tho
help of a master, attained to the interpretation ot dark say
ings, or were able, by the strength of their own genius, to
enter within the veil.

The next difference of method is of great moment with
regard to the sciences, as these are delivered either in the
vay of aphorism or methodically. It highly deserves to be
noted, that the general custom is, for men to raise as it were
a formal and solemn art from a fe\v axioms and observations
upon any subject, swelling it out with their own witty in
ventions, illustrating it by examples, and binding the whole
up into method. But that other way of delivery by apho
risms has numerous advantages over the methodical. And
first, it gives us a proof of the author's abilities, and shows
whether he hath entered deep into his subject or not. Apho
risms are ridiculous things, unless wrought from the central
parts of the sciences; and here all illustration, excursion,
variety of examples, deduction, connection, and particular
description, is cut off, so that nothing besides an ample stock
of observations is left for the matter of aphorisms. And,
therefore, no person is equal to the forming of aphorisms,
nor would ever think of them, if he did not find himself
copiously and solidly instructed for writing upon a subject.
But in methods so great a power have order, connection, and
choice, —

" Tantum series juncturaque pollet ;

Tantum de medio sumptis accedit honoris, "d —

that methodical productions sometimes make a show of I
know not what specious art, which, if they were taken to
pieces, separated, and undressed, would fall back again almost
to nothing. Secondly, a methodical delivery has the power
of enforcing belief and consent, but directs not much to prac-
ojal indications, as carrying with it a kind of demonstration
in circle, where the parts mutually enlighten each other, and
so gratifies the imagination the more ; but as actions lie scat
tered in common life, scattered instructions suit them tho
best. Lastly, as aphorisms exhibit only certain scraps and
fragments of the sciences, they carry with them an invitation

* Her, Art, ¥ >et, 24*

230 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [lXX)\ VI.

to others for adding and lending their assistance, whereas
methods dress up the sciences into bodies, and make men
imagine they have them complete.

There is a farther difference of method, and that too very
considerable ; for as the sciences are delivered either by
assertions with their proofs, or by questions with their
answei-s, if the latter method be pursued too far, it retards
the advancement of the sciences no less than it would the
march of an army, to be sitting down against every little fort
in the way; whereas, if the better of the battle be gained,
and the fortune of the war steadily pursued, such lesser
places will surrender of themselves, though it must be allowed
unsafe to leave any large and fortified place at the back of
the army. In the same manner confutations are to be
avoided or sparingly used in delivering the sciences, so as only
to conquer the greater prejudices and prepossessions of the
mind, without provoking and engaging the lesser doubts and
scruples.

Another difference of method lies in suiting it to the
subject; for mathematics, the most abstract and simple of
the sciences, is delivered one way, and politics, the more
compound and perplexed, another. For an uniform method
cannot be coinmodiously observed in a variety of matter.
And as we approve of particular topics for invention, so
we must in some measure allow of particular methods of
delivery.

There is another difference of method to be used with
Judgment in delivering the sciences, and this is governed by
the informations and anticipations of the science to be deli
vered that are before infused and impressed upon the mind
of the learner. For that science which comes as an entire
stranger to the mind is to be delivered one way, and that
which is familiarized by opinions already imbibed and re-
ceivrcl another. And therefore, Aristotle, when he thought
to chastise, really commended Democritus, in saying, " If wo
would dispute in earnest, and not hunt after comparisons,"
<kc. ; as if he would tax Democritus with being too full of
comparisons; whereas they whose instructions are already
grounded in popular opinion have nothing left them bat «o
dispute and prove, whilst others have a double task whose
ioctrines transcend the vulgar opinion* ; viz., first to render

CHAP. II.} METHOD GENERAL AND PARTICULAR. . 231

what they deliver intelligible, and then to prove it; whence
they must of necessity have recourse to simile and metaphor,
the better to enter the human capacity.6 Hence we find in
the more ignorant ages, when learning was in its infancy,
and those conceptions which are now trite and vulgar were
new and unheard of, everything was full of parables and
similitudes, otherwise the things then proposed would either
have been passed over without due notice and attention, or
else have been rejected as paradoxes. For it is a rule in the
doctrine of delivery, that every science which comports not
with anticipations and prejudices must seek the assistance of >;
similes and allusions. And thus much for the different
Tnnds of methods, which have not hitherto been observed;
but for the others, as the analytic, systatic, diseretic, cryptic,
homeric, &c., they are already justly discovered and ranged.

Method has two parts, one regarding the disposition of a
whole work or the subject of a book, and the other the limi
tation of propositions. For architecture not only regards
the fabric of the whole building, but also the figure of the
columns, arches, <kc. ; for method is as it were the architec
ture of the sciences. And herein Ramus has deserved better,
by reviving the ancient rules of method/ than by obtruding
his own dichotomies. But I know not by what fatality k
happens that, as the poets often feign, the most precious
things have the most pernicious keepers. Doubtless the
endeavours of Ramus about the reduction of propositions
threw him upon his epitomes, and the flats and shallows of
the sciences : for it must be a fortunate and well-directed
genius that shall attempt to make the axioms of the sciences
convertible, and not at the same time render them circular,
that is, keep them from returning into themselves. s And
yet the attempt of Eamus in this way has not been useless.

e The reader will bear in mind that this was the situation of th»
author in his time, and on that account dispense with his figurative
style, though it may not be altogether so necessary at present, when
we are accustomed to the freest range of philosophical inquiry. Ed.

1 KridoXoi/ Trpujrov, Kara TTOVTOQ, KaO' avru, ic.r.X. ; relation to the
first principle, relation to all, and relation to one's self.

«f The axioms in the text must not be understood as applying to the
mathematical sciences, which being, as Condillac observes, purely ideal,
«xact in their conversion nothing more than a detailed exposition of the
properties we have already included in their definition ; but of the

232 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI.

There are still two other limitations of propositions, be
sides that for making them convertible, — the one for extend
ing and the other for producing them. For if it be just that
the sciences have two other dimensions, besides depth, viz.
length and breadth, their depth bearing relation to their
truth and reality, as these are what constitute their solidity;
their breadth may be computed from one science to another,
and their length fi m the highest degree to the lowest in
the same science, — the one comprehends the ends and tru$
boundaries of the sciences, whence propositions may be
treated distinctly J and not promiscuously, and all repetition,
excursion, and confusion avoided; the other prescribes a rule
how far and to what particular degree the propositions of
the sciences are to be reduced. But no doubt something
must here be left to practice and experience ; for men ought
ot avoid the extreme of Antoninus Pius, and not mince
cumin-seed in the sciences, nor multiply divisions to the
utmost. And it is here well worth the inquiry, how far we
should check ourselves in this respect ; for we see that too
extensive generals, unless they be reduced, afford little infor
mation, but rather expose the sciences to the ridicule of
practical men, as being no more fitted for practice than a
general map of the world to show the road from London to
York. The best rules may well be compared to a metalline
speculum, which represents the images of things, but not
before it is polished; for so rules and precepts are useful
after having undergone the file of experience. But if these
rules could be made exact and clear from the first, it were

objective sciences, where, since our knowledge of the subject is general! /
so imperfect as to render any direct definition uncertain, we are obliged to
involve ourselves in a chain of reasoning to prove that the interchange
able attribute can be affirmed of the subject in its whole extent, and
that both possess no qualities which are not convertible with each other.
In establishing this reciprocal accordance of parts, it frequently happeni
that, having to connect a series of propositions in a chain of mutual
dependence on each other, the first being proved by the second and the
second by the third, &c., we arrive at and rest the whole proof upon a
conclusion which is nothing else than the enunciation of the very pro
position which we are labouring to establish, instead of grounding the
argument upon some universally admitted principle or well-ascertained
fact. This fallacy logicians term a vicious circle, and is the error t«
wV.cb Bacon rUlwlea in the text. Ea,

CHAP. III.] VALUE OP RHETORIC, AND ITS FUNCTIONS. 233

better, because they would then stand in less need of expe
rience.

We must not omit that some men, rather ostentatious
than learned, have laboured about a certain method not de
serving the name of a true method, as being rather a kind
of imposture, which may nevertheless be acceptable to some
busy minds. This art so scatters the drops of the sciences,
that any pretender may misapply it .or ostentation, with
3pme appearance of learning. Such was the art of Lully, and
such the typocosmia cultivated by some ; for these are only
a collection of terms of art heaped togeth r, to the end that
those who have them in readiness may seem to understand
the arts whereto the terms belong. Collections of this kind
are like a piece-broker's shop, where there are nymy slips,
but nothing of great value. And thus much for the science
which we call traditive m*udence.h

CHAPTER III.

The Grounds and Functions of Rhetoric. Three Appendices which
belong only to the Preparatory Part, viz., the Colours of Good and
Evil, both simple and composed ; the Antithesis of Things (the pro
and con. of General Questions) ; the Minor Forms of Speech (the
Elaboration of Exordiums, Perorations, and Leading Arguments).

WE next proceed to the doctrine of ornament in speech,
called by the name of rhetoric or oratory. This in itself is
certainly an excellent science, and has been laudably culti-

h Concio, who preceded Bacon, anticipates, in his treatise " De
Methodo," many of the fundamental principles of the inductive logi
cians, and discriminates many branches of analysis, which they confound.
Descartes, in his book on the same subject, has endeavoured to reduce
the whole business of method to four rules, which, however, are found in
the precepts of Aristotle. Johan. Beyer undertook to write upon thin
subject, in his " Filum Labyrinthi," according to the design of Bacon,
but appears not to have understood the author, and has rather obscured
his doctrine than improved it. M. Tschirnhaus, however, has treated
the subject more suitably to its merit, in his " Medicina Mentis," men-
tioned above, in the note to § 2. A great variety of methods have been
advanced by different authors, an ample catalogue of whom may b«
found in Morhofs "Polyhiet." torn. i. lib. ii. cap. 7, " De Methodii
Variia." F,d.

2o4 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAIIX1XG. [BOOK VI.

vated by writers. But to form a just estimate, eloquence
is certainly inferior to wisdom. The great difference between
them appears in the words of God to Moses upon his reiasing,
for want of elocution, the charge assigned him : " Aaron
shall be thy speaker, and thou shalt be to him as God."a But
for advantage and popular esteem, wisdom gives place to
eloquence. " The wise in heart shall be called prudent, but
the sweet of tongue shall find greater things," says Solomon :b
clearly intimating that wisdom procures a name and admira
tion, but that eloquence is of greater efficacy in business and
civil life. And for the cultivation ot this art, the emulation
betwixt Aristotle and the rhetoricians of his time, the
earnest study of Cicero, his long practice and utmost endea
vour every way to dignify oratory, hath made these authors
even exceed themselves in their books upon the subject.
Again, the great examples of eloquence found in the orations
of Demosthenes and Cicero, added to the perfection and
exactness of their precepts, have doubled its advancement.
And therefore the deficiencies we find in it rather turn upon
certain collections belonging to its train, than upon the
doctrine and use of the art itself.

But in our manner to open and stir the earth a little
about the roots of this science, certainly rhetoric is sub
servient to the imagination, as logic is to the understanding.
And if the thing be well considered, the office and use of
this art is but to apply and recommend the dictates of reason
to the imagination, in order to excite the affections and will.
For the administration of reason is disturbed three ways ;
viz., 1. either by the ensnaring of sophistry, which belongs to
logic ; 2. the delusion of words, which belongs to rhetoric ;
or 3. by the violence of the affections, which belongs to
ethics. For as in transacting business with others, men are
commonly over-reached, or drawn from their own purposes
either by cunning, importunity, or vehemence ; so in the in
ward business we transact with ourselves, we are either,
1. undermined by the fallacy of arguments; 2. disquieted and
solicited by the assiduity of impressions and observations ; or
3. shaken and carried away by the violence of the passions.
Nor is the state of human nature so unequal, that these artd

• Exodus iv. 14, 15, 16. * Prov. i. 21.

CHAP. III.] HOW ELOQUENCE AIDS REASON. 235

and faculties should have power to disturb the reason, and
none to confirm and strengthen it ; for they do this in a
much greater degree. The end of logic is to teach the form
of arguments for defending, and not for ensnaring, the under
standing. The end of ethics is so to compose the affections,
that they may co-operate with reason, and not insult it.
And lastly, the end of rhetoric is to fill the imagination with
such observations and images as may assist reason, and not
overthrow it. For the abuses of an art come in obliquely
only, and not for practice, but caution. It was therefore
great injustice in Plato, though it proceeded from a just con
tempt of the rhetoricians of his time, to place rhetoric among
the voluptuary arts,c and resemble it to cookery, which cor
rupted wholesome meats, and, by variety of sauces, made
unwholesome ones more palatable. For speech is, doubtless,
more employed to adorn virtue than to colour vice. This
faculty is always ready, for every man speaks more virtuously
than lie cither thinks or_acts. And it is excellently observed
by Thucydides, that something of this kind was usually
objected to Cleon ;d who, as he always defended the worst
side of a cause., was ever inveighing against eloquence and
the grace of speech, well knowing that no man could speak
gracefully upon a base subject, though every man easily
might upon an honourable one : for Plato elegantly observed,
though the expression is now grown trite, that if virtue
could be beheld, she would have great admirers.6 But
rhetoric, by plainly painting virtue and goodness, renders
them, as it were, conspicuous ; for as they cannot be seen by
the corporeal eye, the next degree is to have them set before
us as lively as possible by the ornament* of words and the
strength of imagination. The Stoics, therefore, were^ de
servedly ridiculed by Cicero for endeavouring to inculcate
virtue upon the mind by short and subtile sentences and
conclusions/ which have little or no relation to the imagina
tion and the will.

Again, if the affections were orderly and obedient to
jrgasou, there would be no great use of persuasion and in
sinuation to gain access to the mind ; it would then be

c As it waa in Bacon to place Dinting and music in the same category.
d B. iii. 42. * Phedias.

e Orator, ii. 33 ; Tusc. ZMsp. ii. 1&, 42.

236 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VT.

sufficient that things themselves were nakedly and simply
proposed and proved ; but, on the contrary, the affections
revolt so often, and raise such disturbances and seditions —

" Video meliora, proboque ;

Deteriora sequor,"* —

that reason would perfectly be led captive, did not the per
suasion of eloquence win over the imagination from the side
of the passions, and promote an alliance betwixt it and
reason against the affections. For we must observe that the
affections themselves always aim at an apparent good, and in
this respect have something common with reason. But here
lies the difference, that the affections principally regard a
present good, whilst reason, seeing far before it, chooses also
the future and capital good. And therefore, as present things
strike the imagination strongest, reason is generally subdued ;
but when eloquence and the power of persuasion raise up
remote and future objects, and set them to view as if they
were present ; then imagination goes over to the side ol
reason, and renders it victorious.

Hence we conclude, that rhetoric can no more be ac
cused of colouring the worst part, than logic of teaching
sophistry. For we know that the doctrines of contraries are
the same, though their use be opposite ; and logic does not
only differ from rhetoric, according to the vulgar notion, as
the first is like the hand clenched, and the other like the
hand open ; but much more in this, that logic considers
reason in its natural state, and rhetoric as it stands in vulgar
opinion ; whence Aristotle prudently places rhetoric be
tween logic and ethics, along with politics, as partaking of
them both. For the proofs and demonstrations of logic are
common to all mankind, but the proof and persuasion of
rhetoric must be varied according to the audience, like a
musician suiting himself to different ears.

" Orpheus in sylvis, inter Delphinas Arion."k

And this application and variation of speech should, if we
desire its perfection, extend so far, that if the same things
were to be delivered to different persons, yet a different set
of words should be used to each.1 Though it is certain that

f Ovid, Metam. vii. 20. h Virg. Eel. viii. 56.

1 For one of the most perfect exemplifica.tion.s of this rule, see Lord

in.] RHEfofeicAL SOPHISMS NEEDED. 23?

the greatest orators, generally, have not tins political and
sociable eloquence in private discourse ; for whilst they
endeavour at ornament and elegant forms of speech, they
fall not upon that ready application and familiar style of dis
course which they might with more advantage use to parti
culars. And it were certainly proper to begin a new inquiry
into this subject ; we therefore place it among the deficiencies
under the title of prudential conversation,* which the more
attentively a man considers, the higher value he will set
upon it; but whether this be placed under rhetoric or politics
is of no great significance.

We have already observed that the desiderata in this art
are rather appendages than parts of the art itself ; and all of
them belong to the repository thereof, for the furnishing of
speech and invention. To proceed in this view ; first, we
find no writer that hath carefully followed the prudent
example of Aristotle, who began to collect popular marks
or colours of apparent good and evil, as well simple as com
parative.1 These, in reality, are but rhetorical sophisms,
though of excellent use, especially in business and private
discourse. But the labour of Aristotle about these colours
has three defects ; for 1. though they are numerous, he
recites but few ; 2. he has not annexed their redargutioris ;
and 3. he seems not to have understood their full use : for
they serve as well to affect and move as to demonstrate.
There are many forms of speech which, though significative
of the same things, yet atfect men differently ; as a sharp
instrument penetrates more than a blunt one. supposing both
of them urged with equal force. There is nobody but would
be more affected by hearing this expression, How your
enemies will triumph upon this :

" Hoc Ithacus velit, et magno mercentur Atridce,""1
than if it were simply said, This will injure your affairs :
therefore these stings and goads of speech are not to be

Brougham's discourse to the Glasgow University and to the Manchester
Mechanics' Institution. Ed.

k The foundations for this are, in some measure, laid by the learned
Morhof in the sketch of his " Homiletice Erudita." See " Polyhistor,"
torn. i. lib. i. cap. 25. See also Jo. Andr. Bosii "De Prudentia et
Eloquentia Civili comparanda," od. Jense, 1693; and " Prudent:*
Consultatoria in Usum Auditorii Thomasiani," ed. Halse Magdeburg,
1721. Ed. i Knetor. ii. 3-8. • ^EneM, ii. 104.

23S ADVANCEMENT OF L£Anm+a. [BOOK vi.

neglected. And since we propose this as a desideratum, we
will, after our manner, give a sketch of it, in the way of
examples ; for precepts will not so well illustrate the thing
In deliberatives, we inquire what is good, what evil ; and of
good, which is the greater, and of evil, which the less.
Whence the persuader's task is to make things appear good
or evil, and that in a higher or lower degree ; which may be
performed by true and solid reasons, or represented by colours,
popular glosses, and circumstances of such force as to sway an
ordinary judgment ; or even a wise man that does not fully
and considerately attend to the subject. But besides this
power to alter the nature of the subject in appearance, and
so lead to error, they are of use to quicken and strengthen
such opinions and persuasions as are true ; for reasons nakedly
delivered, and always after one manner, enter but heavily,
especially with delicate minds ; whereas, when varied and
enlivened by proper forms and insinuations, they cause a
stronger apprehension, and often suddenly win the mind to a
resolution. Lastly, to make a true and safe judgment,
nothing can be of greater use and preservation to the mind
than the discovery and reprehension of these colours, show
ing in what cases they hold and in what not ; which cannot
be done without a comprehensive knowledge of things; but
when performed, it clears the judgment, and makes it less apt
to slip into error. n

SOPHISM I. — What men praise and celebrate, is yood ; what they dispraise
and censure, evil.

This sophism deceives four ways; viz., either through
ignorance, deceit, party, or the natural disposition of the
praiser or dispraiser. 1. Through ignorance ; for what
signifies the judgment of the rabble in distinguishing good
and evil 1 Phocion took it right, who, being applauded by
the multitude, asked, What he had done amiss 1° 2. Through

n This paragraph is taken from the fragment of the Colours of Good
and Evil, usually printed as an appendix to the author's essays. That
fragment was reconsidered, Letter digested, -ind finished by the author,
in order to fit it for this place, in the De Augmentis Scientiarum ; to
which himself assigned it in the Latin edition. The reason oi its being
called a fragment . was, that the author had made a large collection of
such kind of sophisms in his youth ; • but could only find tune in his
riper years, to add the fallacies and confutations of the following
twelve. .Shaw • Plutarch.

CiiAP. III.] RHETORICAL SOPHISMS EXEMPtlFlfitX 239

deceit ; for those who praise cr dispiaise commonly have
their own views in it, and speak not their real sentiments.

" Laudat venales, qui vult extrudere, merces."P
" It is faulty, it is faulty, says the buyer; but when he is gone,
he congratulates himself upon the bargain." 1 3. Through
party ; for men immoderately extol those of their own and
depress those of the opposite party. 4. Through disposition
or temper; for some men are naturally formed servile and
fawning, and others captious and morose ; so that when
such persons praise or dispraise, they do but gratify their
humour, without much regard to truth.

II. — What is commended, even by an enemy, is a great good; but what is
censured, even by a friend, a great evil.

The fallacy seems to lie here, that it is easily believed the
force of truth extorts from us what we speak against our
inclination.

This colour deceives through the subtilty both of friends
and enemies. For praises of enemies are not always against
their will, nor forced from them by truth ; but they choose
to bestow them where they may create envy or danger to
their adversary. Hence the foolish conceit was current
among the Greeks, that he who was praised by another with
malicious intent, never failed to have his nose disfigured with
a pustule. Again this colour deceives, because enemies some
times use praises like prefaces, that they may the more freely
calumniate afterwards. On the other side, it deceives by the
craft of friends, who also sometimes acknowledge our faults,
and speak of them not as compelled thereto by any force of
truth, but touch only such as may do little hurt, and make
us, in everything else, the best men in the world. And
lastly, it deceives, because friends also use their reproofs, as
enemies do their commendations, by way of preface, that
they may afterwards launch out more fully in our praises.

III. — To be deprived of a good, is an evil; and to be deprived of an evil,
a good.

This colour deceives two ways ; viz., cither by the com
parison of good and evil, or by the sue session of good to
good, or evil to evil. 1; By comparison : thus if it were
good for mankind to be deprived of acorns, it follows noi

P Hot. Epist. ii. 11. * Prcv. u.

210 ADVANCEMENT OP LEAKNINO. [BOOK Vt

that such food was bad, but that acorns were good, though
bread be better. Nor, if it were an evil for the people of
Sicily to be deprived of Dionysius the Elder, does it follow
that the same Dionysius was a good prince, but that he was
less evil than Dionysius the Younger. 2. By succession : for
the privation of a good does not always give place to an evil,
but sometimes to a greater good, — as when the blossom falls,
the fruit succeeds. Nor does the privation of an evil always
give place to a good, but sometimes to a greater evil ; for Milo,
by the death of his enemy Clodius, lost a fair harvest of glory.

IV. — What approaches to good, is good ; and what recedes from good,
is evil.

It is almost universal, that things agreeing in nature
agree also in place, and that things disagreeing in nature
differ as widely in situation; for all things have an appetite
jf associating with what is agreeable, and of repelling what
is disagreeable to them.

This colour deceives three ways ; viz., by depriving, ob
scuring, and protecting. 1. By depriving; for the largest
things, and most excellent in their kind, attract all they can
to themselves, and leave what is next them destitute ; thus
the underwood growing near a large tree is the poorest wood
of the field, because the tree deprives it of sap and nourish
ment, — whence it was well said, that the servants of the
rich are the greatest slaves ; r and it was witty of him who
compared the inferior attendants in the courts of princes to
the vigils of feast-days, which, though nearest to feast-days,
are themselves but meagre. 2. By obscuring : for it is also
the nature of excellent things in their kind, though they do
not impoverish the substance of what lies near them, yet to
overshadow and obscure it; whence the astrologers say, that
though in all the planets conjunction is the most perfect
amity, yet the sun, though good in aspect, is evil in conjunc
tion. 3. By protecting : for things come together, not only
from a similitude of nature, but even what is evil flies to
that which is good (especially in civil society) lor conceal
ment and protection. Thus hypocrisy draws near to religion
for shelter :

" Saepe latet vitiura proximitate boni."§

Divitis v;rvi maximc scrvi. • Ovid, Ara Amandi, ii. 662.

CHAP. III.] RHETORICAL SOPHISMS EXEMPLIFIED. 241

So sanctuary-men, who were commonly malefactors, used to
be nearest the priests and prelates; for the majesty of good
things is such, that the confines of them are reverend. On
the other side, good draws near to evil, not for society, but
for conversation and reformation ; and hence physicians visit
the sick more than the sound, and hence it was objected to
our Saviour, that he conversed with publicans and sinners.1

V. — As all parties challenge the first place, that to which the rest unani
mously give the second seems the best; each taking the jirst place out of
a/cation to itself, but giving the second where it w really due.

Thus Cicero attempted to prove the Academics to be the
best sect ; for, saith he, '-Ask a Stoic which philosophy is best,
and he will prefer his own ; then ask him which is the next
best, and he will confess, the Academics. Ask an Epicurean
the same question, who can scarce endure the Stoic, and as
soon as he hath placed his own sect, he places the Academics
next him." u So if a prince separately examined several com
petitors for a place, perhaps the ablest and most deserving
man would have most second voices.

This colour deceives in respect of envy ; for men are accus
tomed, next after themselves and their own faction, to prefer
those that are softest and most pliable, with intent to ex
clude such as would obstruct their measures; whence this
colour of meliority and pre-eminence becomes a sign of ener
vation and weakness.

VI. — That is absolutely best the excellence whereof is greatest.
This colour has these forms, — let us not wander in gone-
rals, let us compare particular with particular, etc., and
though it seem strong, and rather logical than rhetorical,
yet it is sometimes a fallacy : — 1. Because many things are
exposed to great danger, but if they escape, prove more ex
cellent than others; whence their kind is inferior, as being
subject to accident and miscarriage, though more noble in
the individual. Thus, to instance, in the blossoms of March,
one whereof, according to the French proverb, is, if it escape
accidents, worth ten blossoms of May; so that though in
general the blossoms of May excel the blossoms of March,
yet in individuals the best blossoms of March may be pre
ferred to the best ot May. 2. Because the nature of thing*

• Matt. be. • Academ. Frag. By Varru.

% *

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [COOK VI,

in some kinvls or species is more equal, and in others morn
unequal. Thus warm climates generally prodilce people of u
sharper genius than cold ones ; yet the extraordinary geniuses
of cold countries usually excel the extraordinary geniuses of
the warmer. So in the case of armies, if the cause were;
tried by single combat, the victory might often go on the
one side, but if by a pitched battle, on the other; for excel
lencies and superiorities are rather accidental things, whilst
kinds are governed by nature or discipline. 3. Lastly, many
kinds have much refuse, which countervails what they have
of excellent; and, therefore, though metal be generally more
precious than stone, yet a diamond is more precious than
gold.

VII. — What keeps a matter safe and entire, if ffood ; lut icJiat leaves no
retreat, is lad : for inability to retire is a kind of impotency, butpoicci
is a good.

Thus ^E.sop feigned that two frogs consulting together in
a time of drought what was to be done, the one proposed
going down into a deep well, because probably the water
would not fail there, but the other answered, "If it should fail
there too, how shall we get up again 1 " And the foundation of
the colour lies here, that human actions are so uncertain and
exposed to danger, that the best condition seems to be that
which has most outlets. And this persuasion turns upon
such forms as these, — You shall engage yourself; You shall
not be/your own carver ; You shall keep the matter in your
hands, &c.x

The fallacy of the sophism lies here : — 1. Because fortune
presses so close upon human affairs, that some resolution is
necessary; for not to resolve is to resolve, so that irresolu
tion frequently entangles us in necessities more than re
solving. And this seems to be a disease of the mind, like to
that of covetousness, only transferred from the desire of
possessing riches to the desire of free will and power; for
ivs the covetous man enjoys no part of his possessions, for
fear of lessening, them, so the . unresolved man executes no-

x Sertorius having so far obstructed Pompey as to burn one of the
towns of .his .allies in • hi j sight, without experiencing from him the
slightest opposition, added, with scorn, " I will teach this young
s'cholar of Sylla, that it is more necessary for a general to look behind
than ixjfore Jiinx j" — :a piece of advice, we need hardly say, sinci) the
whole of life i* a combat, as applicable to civil as to military warfare. Ed.

CHAP. III.] RHETORICAL SOPHISMS EXEMPLIFIED. 243

thing, that he may not abridge his freedom and power of
acting. 2. Because necessity and the fortune of the throw
adds a spur to the mind ; whence that saying, " In othei
respects equal, but in necessity superior." y

VIII. — That evil we bring upon ourselves, is greater; and that proceeding
from without us, less.

Because remorse of conscience doubles adversity, as a con
sciousness of one's own innocence is a great support in afflic
tion, — whence the poets exaggerate those sufferings most,
and paint them leading to despair, wherein the person ac
cuses and tortures himself.

" Seque unam clamat causamque, caputque malorum."1
On the other side, persons lessen and almost annihilate their
misfortunes, by reflecting upon their own innocence and
merit. Besides, when the evil comes from without, it leaves
a man to the full liberty of complaint, whereby he spends
his grief and eases his heart ; for we conceive indignation at
human injuries, and either meditate revenge ourselves, or
implore and expect it from the Divine vengeance. Or ii the
injury came from fortune itself, yet this leaves us to an ex
postulation with the Divine Powers, —

" Atque Deos, atque astra, vocat crudelia mater."*
But if the evil be derived from ourselves, the stings of grief
strike inwards, and stab and wound the mind the deeper.

This colour deceives, — 1. By hope, which is the greatest
antidote to evils; for it is commonly in our power to amend
our faults, but not our fortunes ; whence Demosthenes said
frequently to the Athenians, " What is worst for the past is
best for the future, since it happens by neglect and miscon
duct that your affairs are come to this low ebb. Had you,
indeed, acted your parts to the best, and yet matters should
thus have gone backward, there would be no hopes of amend
ment ; but as it has happened principally through your own
errors, if these are corrected, all may be recovered."1* So
Epictetus, speaking ot the degrees of the mind's tranquillity,
assigns the lowest place to such as accuse others, a higher to
those who accuse themselves, but the highest to those who
neither accuse themselves nor others. 2. By pride, which so
cleaves to the mind that it will scarce suffer men to acknow-

r Livy, iv. 28. » ^Eneid, xii. 600. • Vivg. Eel. v. 23. b Philip. L

& 2

244 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK Vt

ledge their errors; and to avoid any such acknowledgment
they are extremely patient under those misfortunes which
they bring upon themselves ; for as, when a fault is committed,
and before it be known who did it, a great stir and commo
tion is made ; but if at length it appears to be done by a son
or a wife, the bustle is at an end. And thus it happens
when one must take a fault to one's self. And hence we
frequently see that women, when they do anything against
their friends' consent, whatever misfortune follows, they sel
dom complain, but set a good face on it.

EX. — The degree of privation seems greater than that of diminution, and
tlie degree of inception greater than that of increase.

It is a position in mathematics, that there is no proportion
between something and nothing, and therefore the degrees
of nullity and quiddity seem larger than the degrees of in
crease and decrease, as it is for a monoculus to lose an eye
than for a man who has two. So if a man has lost several
children, it gives him more grief to lose the last than all the
rest, because this was the hope of his family. Therefore,
the Sibyl, when she had burned two of her three books,
doubled her price upon the third, because the loss of this
would only have been a degree of privation, and not of dimi
nution.

This colour deceives, — 1. in things whose use and service
lie in a sufficiency, competency, or determinate quantity :
thus if a man were to pay a large sum upon a penalty, it
might be harder upon him to want twenty shillings for this
than ten pounds for another occasion. So in running through
an estate, the first step towards it — viz., breaking in upon
the stock — is a higher degree of mischief than the last, viz.,
spending the last penny. And to this colour belong those
common forms — It is too late to pinch at the bottom of the
purse ; As good never a whit as never the better, &c. 2. It
deceives from this principle in nature, that the corruption of
one thing is the generation of another ; whence the ultimate
degree of privation itself is often less felt, as it gives occasion
and a spur to some new course. So when Demosthenes re
buked the people for hearkening to the dishonourable and
Unequal conditions of King Philip, he called those conditions
the food of their sloth and indolence, which they had better

CftAP. 111.] &HETORICAL SOPHISMS EXEMPLIFIED. 245

be without, because then their industry would be excited to
procure other remedies. So a blunt physician whom I knew,
when the delicate ladies complained to him, they were they
could not tell how, yet could not endure to take physic, he
would tell them their way was to be sick, for then they
would be glad to take anything. 3. Nay, the degree of priva
tion itself, or the extremest indigence, may be serviceable, not
only to excite our industry, but to command our patience.

The second part of this sophism stands upon the same
foundation, or the degrees betwixt something and nothing ;
whence the common-place of extolling the beginnings ol
everything, Well-begun is half-done, <fec.

" Dimidium facti, qui coepit, habet."c

And hence the superstition of the astrologers, who judge the
disposition and lortune of a man from the instant of his
nativity or conception.

This colour deceives, — 1. because many beginnings are but
imperfect offers and essays, which vanish and come to
nothing without repetition and farther advancement ; so that
here the second degree seems more worthy and powerful
than the first, as a body-horse in a team draws more than
the fore-horse : whence it is not ill said, The second word
makes the quarrel ; for the first might perhaps have proved
harmless it it had not been retorted ; therefore the first gives
the occasion indeed, but the second makes reconciliation
more difficult. 2. This sophism deceives by weariness, which
makes perseverance of greater dignity than inception ; for
chance or nature may give a beginning, but only settled
affection and judgment can give continuance. 3. It deceives
in things whose nature and common course carries them
contrary to the first attempt, which is therefore continually
frustrated, and gets no ground unless the force be redoubled :
hence the common forms — Not to go forwards is to go back
wards — running up hill — rowing against the stream, &c.
But if it be with the stream, or with the hill, then the de
gree of inception has by much the advantage. 4. This colour
not only reaches to the degree of inception from power to
action, compared with the degree from action to increase,
but also to the degree from want of power to power, com-

• Hor. Epist. 1, ii. 40.

ADVANCEMENT Of LEARNING. [BOOK VI.

pared with the degree from power to action ; for the degree
from want of power to power seems greater than that from
power to action.

X. — What relates to truth is greater than what relates to opinion ; but the
measure and trial of what relates to opinion is what a man would not do
if he thought he were secret.

So the Epicureans pronounce of the stoical felicity placed
in virtue, that it is the felicity of a player, who, left by his
audience, would soon sink in his spirit; whence they in ridi
cule call virtue a theatrical good; but it is otherwise in
riches —

" Populus me sibilat ; at inihi plaudo,"d
and pleasure,

" Grata sub inio

Gaudia corde premens, vultu simulante pudorem,"*

which are felt more inwardly.

The fallacy of this colour is somewhat subtile, though the
answer to the example be easy, as virtue is not chosen lor
the sake of popular fame, and as every one ought principally
to reverence himself; so that a virtuous man will be vir
tuous in a desert as well as a theatre, though perhaps virtue is
made somewhat more vigorous by praise, as heat by reflec
tion. But this only denies the supposition, and does not
expose the fallacy. Allowing, then, that virtue, joined with
labour, would not be chosen but for the praise and fame
which usually attend it, yet it is no consequence that virtue
should not be desired principally for its own sake, since fame
may be only an impellent, and not a constituent or efficient
cause. Thus, if when twro horses are rode without the spur,
one of them performs better than the other, but with the
spur the other far exceeds, this will be judged the better
horse : and to say that his mettle lies in the spur, is not
making a true judgment; for since the spur is a com
mon instrument in horsemanship, and no impediment or
burthen to the horse, he will not be esteemed the worse
horse that wants it, but the going well without it is rather
a point of delicacy than perfection. So glory and honour are
the spurs to virtue, which, though it might languish without
them, yet since they are always at hand unsought, virtue if

« Hor. i. Sat. i. 68. • Ibid.

CHAP. lit] RHETORICAL SOPHISMS EXEMPLIFIED. 24?

not less to be chosen for itself, because it needs the spur of
lame and reputation, which clearly confutes the sophism.

-XT. — What is procured by our own virtue and industry is a greater good ;
and what by another's, or by the gift oj fortune, a less.

The reasons are, — 1. Future hope, because in the favours
of others, or the gifts of fortune, there is no great certainty ;
but our own virtue and abilities are always with us : so that
when they have purchased us one good, we have them as
ready, and by use better edged to procure us another.
2. Because what we enjoy by the benefit of others carries
with it an obligation to them for it, whereas what is derived
from ourselves comes without clog or incumbrance. Nay,
when the Divine Providence bestows favours upon us, they
require acknowledgments and a kind of retribution to the
Supreme Being ; but in the other kind, men rejoice (as the
prophet speaks), and are glad ; they offer to their toils, and
sacrifice to their nets. f 3. Because what comes to us unpro-
cured by our own virtue, yields not that praise and reputation
we affect; for actions of great felicity may produce much
wonder, but no praise : so Cicero said to Caesar, " We have
enough to admire, but want somewhat to praise." '& 4. Be
cause the purchases of our own industry are commonly
joined with labour and struggle, which have not only some
sweetness themselves, but give an edge and relish to enjoy
ment. Venison is sweet to him that kills it.'1

There are four opposites or counter-colours to this sophism,
and may serve as confutations to the four preceding colours
respectively. 1. Because felicity seems to be a work of the
Divine favour, and accordingly begets confidence and alacrity
in ourselves, as well as respect and reverence from others.
And this felicity extends to casual things, which human
virtue can hardly reach. So when Caesar said to the master
of the ship in a storm, " Thou earnest Ctesar and his for
tune ;" if he should have said, " Thou earnest Caesar and hia
virtue," it had been but a small support against the danger.
2. Because those things which proceed from virtue and in
dustry are imitable, and lie open to others ; whereas felicity
is inimitable, and the prerogative of a singular person :

f Habac. i. 15, 16.

f "Qua miremur habemus, quae laudemus expectamus." — Orat. pro
Marcellua. * Suavis cibua £ venatu.

248 ADVANCEMENT 0* LEARNING. [BOOK VI

whence, in general, natural things are preferred to artificial,
because incapable of imitation ; for whatever is imi table
seems common, and in every one's power. 3. The things
that proceed from felicity seem free gifts unpurchased by
industry, but those acquired by virtue seem bought : whcnco
Plutarch said elegantly of the successes of Timoleon (an
extremely fortunate man), compared with those of his con
temporaries Agesilaus and Epaminondas, " that they were
like Homer's verses, and besides their other excellencies, ran
peculiarly smooth and natural." 4. Because what happens
unexpectedly is more acceptable, and enters the mind with
greater pleasure ; but this effect cannot be had in things
procured by our own industry.

XII. — What consists of many divisible parts is greater, and more one than
what consists of fewer ; for all things when viewed in their parts seem
greater, whence also a plurality of parts shows bulky ; but a plurality
of parts has the stronger effect, if tliey lie in no certain order, for thus
they resemble infinity and prevent comprehension.

This sophism appears gross at first sight ; for it is not
plurality of parts alone, without majority, that makes the
total greater; yet the imagination is often carried away, and
the sense deceived with this colour. Thus to the eye the
road upon a naked plain may seem shorter, than where there
are trees, buildings, or other marks, by which to distinguish
and divide the distance. So when a monied man divides his
chests and bags, he seems to himself richer than he was ; and
therefore a way to amplify anything is to break it into
several parts, and examine them separately. And this
makes the greater show, if done without order; for confusion
shows things more 'numerous than they are. But matters
ranged and set in order appear more confined, and prove
that nothing is omitted; whilst such as are represented in
confusion not only appear more in number, but leave a sus
picion of many more behind.

This colour deceives, — 1. if the mind entertain too great
an opinion of anything; for then the breaking of it will
destroy that false notion, and show the thing really as it is,
without amplification. Thus if a man be sick or in pain, the
time seems longer without a clock than with one; for though
the irksomeness of pain makes the time seem longer than
it is, yet the measuring it corrects the error, and s_hows it

CHAP. III.] RHETORICAL SOPHISMS EXEMPLIFIED. 249

shorter than that false opinion had conceived it. And so in
a naked plain, contrary to what was just before observed,
though the way to the eye may seem shorter when undivided,
yet the frustration of that false expectation will afterwards
cause it to appear longer than the truth. Therefore, if a
man design to encourage the false opinion of another as to
the greatness of a thing, let him not divide and split it, but
extol it in the general. This colour deceives, — 2. if the
matter be so far divided and dispersed as not all to appear
at one view. So flowers growing in separate beds show
more than if they grow in one bed, provided all the beds are
in the same plot, so as to be viewed at once ; otherwise they
appear more numerous when brought nearer than when
scattered wider; and hence landed estates that lie contiguous
are usually accounted greater than they are ; for if they lie in
different counties, they could not so well fall within notice.
3. This sophism deceives through the excellence of unity
above multitude ; for all composition is an infallible sign of
deficiency in particulars, —

" Et quse non prosunt singula, multa juvant."1
For if one would serve the turn, it were best ; but defects
and imperfections require to be pieced and helped out. So
Martha, employed about many things, was told that one was
sufficient. k And upon this foundation ./Esop invented the
fable how the fox bragged to the cat what a number of
devices and stratagems he had to get from the hounds, when
the cat said she had one, and that was to climb a tree, which
in fact was better than all the shifts of reynard ; whence the
proverb, " Multa novit vulpes, sed felis unum magnum." J
And the moral of the fable is this, that it is better to rely
upon an able and trusty friend in difficulty than upon all
the fetches and contrivances of one's own wit.

It were easy to collect a large number of this kind ol
sophisms. — which we collected in our youth, but without
their illustrations and solutions. These at last we have
found time to digest, and think the performance of con
siderable service, — whereto if their fallacies and detections
were annexed, it might be a work of considerable service,
as launching into primary philosophy and politics as well aa
1 Ovid, Remedia Ainoris, 429. k Luke x. 41.

1 The fox bad many shifts, but the cat a capital one.

250 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VI.

rhetoric. And so much for the popular marks or colours of
apparent good and evil, both simple and comparative.

A second collection wanting to the apparatus of rhetoric
is that intimated by Cicero, when he directs a set ot com
mon-places, suited to both sides of the question, to be had in
readiness : such are, " pro verbis legis," et " pro sententia legis."
But we extend this precept farther, so as to include not only
judicial, but also deliberate and demonstrative forms. Our
meaning is, that all the places of common use, whether for
proof, confutation, persuasion, dissuasion, praise, or dispraise,
should be ready studied, and either exaggerated or degraded
with the utmost effort of genius, or, as it were, per verso
resolution beyond all measure of truth. And the best way
of forming this collection, both for conciseness and use, wo
judge to be that of contracting and winding up these places
into certain acute and short sentences ; as into so man)
clues, which may occasionally be wound off into larger dis
courses. And something of this kind we find done by
Seneca ;m but only in the way of suppositions or cases. The
following examples will more lully illustrate our intention : —
For. BEAUTY." Against.

The deformed endeavour, by Virtue, like a diamond, is best

malice, to keep themselves from plain set.
contempt. Asa good dress to a deformed

Deformed persons are commonly person, so is beauty to a vicious
revenged of nature. man.

Virtue is internal beauty, and Those adorned with beauty, and

beauty external virtue. those affected by it, are generally

Beauty makes virtue shine, and shallow alike,
vice blush.

For. BOLDNESS. Against.

A bashful suitor shows the way Boldness is the verger to folly,

to deny him. Impudence is fit for nothing but

Boldness in a politician is like imposture.

action ' in an orator — the first, Confidence is the fool's empresa

second, and third qualification. and the wise man's buffoon.

Love the man who confesses his Boldness is a kind of dulnest^

modesty ; but hate him who ac- joined with a perverseness.
cuses it.

A confidence in carriage soonest
unites affections.

Give me a reserved countenance
and open conversation.

m Controversia.

n In the original there is a different arrangement. Wo hare followed
the alphabetical order.

CHAP. III.]

EXAMPLES OP ANTITHETA.

251

For.

CEREMONIES.

Against.

A graceful deportment is the
true ornament of virtue.

If we follow the vulgar in the
use of words, why not in habit and
gesture ?

He who observes not decorum
in smaller matters may be a great
man, but is unwise at times.

Virtue and wisdom, without all
respect and ceremony, are, like
ioreign languages, unintelligible
to the vulgar.

He who knowa not the sense of
the people, neither by congruity
nor observation, is senseless.

Ceremonies are the translation
oi virtue into our own language.

What can^be more disagreeable
than in common life to copy the
stage ?

Ingenuous behaviour procures
esteem, but affectation and cun
ning, hatred.

Better a painted face and curled
hair, than a painted and curled
behaviour.

He is incapable of great matters
who breaks his mind with trifling
observations.

Affectation is the glossy corrup
tion oi ingenuity.

For.

CONSTANCY.

Against.

Constancy is the foundation of
virtue.

He is miserable who has no
notion of what he shall be.

If human judgment cannot be
constant to things, let it at least
be true to itself.

Even vice is set off by constancy.

Inconstancy of fortune with in
constancy of mind makes a dark

Constancy, like a churlish por-
teress, turns away many useful
informations.

It is just that constancy should
endure crosses, for it commonly
brings them.

The shortest folly is the best.

CRUELTY.

Fortune, like Proteus, is brought
to herself by persisting.

For.

No virtue is so often delinquent
.as clemency.

Cruelty proceeding from revenge
is justice; if from danger, pru
dence.

He who shows mercy to his
enemy denies it to himself. . , .

Phlebotomy is as necessary in
the body politic as in the body
natural.

For. DELAY.

Fortune sells many things to the
hasty which she gives to the slow.

Hurrying to catch the begin
nings of things is .grasping at
•hadows.

Against.

He who delights in blood ii
either a wild beast or a fury.

To a good man, cruelty seems a
mere tragical fiction.

Again*.

Opportunity offers the handle o
the bottle first, then the belly. .

Opportunity, like the Sibyl, di
minishes the commodity .but ea*
bances the price.

252 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING, [COOK VL

When thii.gs hang wavering, Dispatch is Pluto's helmet,

mark them, and work when they Things undertaken speedily ar«

incline. easily performed.

Commit the beginning of actions
to Argus, with his hundred eyes,
the end to Briareus, with his hun
dred hands.

For. DISSIMULATION. Against.

Dissimulation is a short wisdom. If we cannot think iustly, at

We are not all to say, though least let us speak as we think,

we all intend, the same thing. In shallow politicians, dissimu-

Nakedness, even in the mind, is lation goes for wisdom,

uncomely. The dissembler loses a princip:J

Dissimulation is both a grace instrument of action, belief,

and a guard. Dissimulation invites dissimuU*-

Dissimulation is the bulwark ot tion.

counsels. The dissembler is a slave.

Some fall a prey to fair dealing.

The open dealer deceives as well
as the dissembler ; lor many either
do not understand him or not be
lieve him.

Open dealing is a weakness of
mind.

tor. EMPIRE. Against.

To enjoy happiness is a great It is a miserable state to havo

blessing, but to conler it a greater. few things to desire and many to

Kings are more like stars than fear.

men, for they have a powerlul in- Princes, like the celestial bodies

fluence. have much veneration but no rest

To resist God's vicegerents is to Mortals are admitted to Jupi

war against heaven. ter's table only lor sport.

For. ENVY. Against.

It is natural to hate those who Envy has no holidays,

reproach us. Death alone reconciles envy tc

Envy in a state is like a whole- virtue.

iome severity. Envy puts virtue to the trial, at

Juno did Hercules.

EVIDENCE AGAINST ABGTIMENT8.

For. Against.

To rely upon arguments is the If evidence were to prevail

part of a pleader, not a judge. against arguments, a judge would

He who is swayed more by ar- need no sense but his hearing,

guments than testimony, trusts Arguments are an antidota

more to wit than sense. against the poison of testimonies.

Arguments might be trusted, if Those proofs are safest believed

men committed no absurdities which seldomest deceive, i '

CHAP. III.] EXAMPLES OF ANTITHETA. 253

Arguments against testimonies
make the case appear strange, but
not true.

For. FACILITY. Against.

Give me the man who complies Facility is want of judgment,

to another's humour without flat- The good offices of easy natures

tery. seem debts, and their denials, iu-

The flexible man comes nearest juries.

to the nature of gold. He thanks only himself who

prevails upon an easy man.

All difficulties oppress a yield
ing nature, for he is engaged in
all.

Easy natures seldom come off
with credit.

For. FLATTERY. Against.

Flattery proceeds from custom Flattery is the style of a slave,

rather than ill design. Flattery is the varnisli of vice.

To convey instruction with praise Flattery is fowling with a bird

ie a form due to the great. call.

The deformity of flattery is
comedy ; but the injury, tnigedy.
To convey good counsel is a
hard task.

For. FORTITUDE. Against.

Nothing is terrible but fear A strange virtue that, to desire

itself. to destroy, to secure destruction.

Pleasure and virtue lose their A goodly virtue truly, which

nature where fear disquiets. evsn drunkenness can cause.

To view danger is looking out A prodigal of his own life

to avoid it. threatens the lives of others.

Other virtues subdue vice, but Fortitude is a virtue of the iron

fortitude even conquers fortune. age.

For. FORTUNE. Against.

Public virtues procure praise ; The folly of one man is the for-

but private ones, fortune. tune of another.

Fortune, like the milky way, is This may be commended in for-

a cluster of small, twinkling, name- tune, that if she maflces no election,

less virtues. she gives no protection.

Fortune is to l>e honoured and The great, to decline envy, wor-

respected, though it were but for ship fortune,
her daughters, Confidence and Au
thority.

For. FRIENDSHIP. Against.

Fiiendship does the same as To contract friendship is to pro-
fortitude, but more agreeably. cure incumbrance.

254 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI

Friendship gives the relish to It is a weak spirit that divides

happiness. fortune with another.

The worst solitude is to want
friendship.

It is just that the hollow-hearted
should not find friendship.

For. HEALTH. Against.

The care of health subjects the Recovery from sickness is reju-

mind to the body. venescency.

A healthy body is the taberna- Pretence of sickness is a good

cle, but a sickly one the prison of excuse for the healthy,
the soul. Health too strongly cements the-

.. A sound constitution forwards soul and body,
business, but a sickly one makes The couch has governed empires,

many holidays. and the litter, armies.0

For. HONOURS. Against.

Honours are the suffrages, not To seek honour is to lose liberty.

of tyrants, but Divine Providence. Honours give command where it

Honours make both virtue and is best not to will ; and next, not
vice conspicuous. to be able.

Honour is the touchstone of The steps of honour are hard to
virtue. climb, slippery a-top, and danger-

The motion of virtue is rapid to ous to go down.
its place, but calm in it ; but the Men in great place borrow others'

place of virtue is honour. opinions, to think themselvei

happy.

For. JESTS. Against.

A jest is the orator's altar. Hunters after deformities and

Humour in conversation pre- comparisons are despicable crea-
serves freedom. tures.

It is highly politic to puss To divert important business

smoothly from jest to earnest, .and with a jest is a base trick.
vice versd. Judge of a jest when the laugh

Witty conceits are vehicles to is over.

truths that could not be otherwise Wit commonly plays on the sur-

agreeably conveyed. face of things, for surface is the

seat ot a jest.

For. INGRATITUDE. Against.

Ingratitude is but perceiving the The sin of ingratitude is not

cause of a benefit. made penal here, but left to the

The desire of being grateful furies.

neither does justice to others nor The obligations for benefits ex-

leaves one's self at liberty, ceed the obligation of duties;

A benefit of an uncertain value whence ingratitude is also unjust,
merits the less thanks. No public fortune can exclude

private favour.

' As happened in the persons of Charles V. and the Marshal J)»
Buce.

CHAP. III.]

EXAMPLES OF ANTITHETA.

255

For. INNOVATION. Against.

Every remedy is an innovation. New births are deformed things.

No author is accepted till time

He who will not apply new re
medies must expect new diseases.

Time is the greatest innovator :
and why may we not imitate time ?

Ancient precedents are unsuit
able, and late ones corrupt and
degenerate.

Let the ignorant square their
actions by example.

As they who first derive honour
to their family are commonly more
worthy than those who succeed
them, so innovations generally ex
cel imitations.

An obstinate adherence to cus
toms is as turbulent a thing as in
novation.

Since things of their own course
change for the worse, if they are
not by prudence altered for the
better, what end can there be of
the ill ?

The slaves of custom are the
sport of time.

For. JUSTICE. Against.

Power and policy are but the If justice consist in doing to

has authorized him.

All novelty is injury, for it de
faces the present state of things.

Things authorized by custom, il
not excellent, are yet comfortable
and sort well together.

What innovator follows the ex
ample of time, which brings about
new things so quietly as to be
almost imperceptible ?

Things that happen unexpected
are less agreeable to those they
benefit and more afflicting to those
they injure.

appendages of justice ; tor if jus
tice could be otherwise executed,
there were no need of them.

It is owing to justice that man
to man is a god, not a wolf.

Though justice cannot extirpate
vice, it keeps it under.

KNOWLEDGE AND

For.

That pleasure only is according
nature, which never cloys.
The sweetest prospect is that
low, into the errors of others.
It is best to have the orbits of

the mind concentric with those of

the universe.

All depraved affections are false

valuations, but goodness and truth

we ever the same.

another what we would have done
to ourselves, then mercy ia
justice.

If every one must receive hia
due, then surely mortals must re
ceive pardon.

The common justice of a nation,
like a philosopher at court, rei.-
ders rulers awful.

CONTEMPLATION.

Ayainst.

A contemplative life is but a
specious laziness.

To think well ia little better
than to dream well.

Divine Providence regards the
world, but man regards only hia
country.

A political man sows even hia
thoughts.

256

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARN /NO. [BOOK VI.

For.

LAW.

It is not expounding, b*at divin
ing, to recede from the letter of
the law.

To leave the letter of the law
makes the judge a legislator.

For. LEARNING.

To write books upon minute
particulars were to render expe
rience almost useless.

Reading is conversing with the
wise, but acting is generally con
versing with fools.

Sciences of little significance in
themselves may sharpen the wit
and marshal the thoughts.

Against.

Generals are to be construed so
as to explain particulars.

The worst tyranny is law upon
the rack.

A gainst.

Men in universities are taught
to believe.

What art ever taught the sea
sonable use of art ?

To be wise by precept and wis<5
by experience are contrary habits,
the one sorts not with the other.

A vain use is made of art, les:
it should otherwise be unemployed.

It is the way of scholars to show
all they know and oppose farther
information.

For. LIFE.

It is absurd to love the acci
dents of lile above life itself.

A long course is better than a
short one, even for virtue.

Without a compass of life, we
can neither learn, nor repent, nor
perfect.

Against.

The philosophers, by their
great preparation for death,
have only rendered death more
terrible.

Men fear death through igno
rance, as children fear the dark.

There is no passion so weak but,
if a little urged, will conquer the
fear of death.

A man would wish to die, even
through weariness of doing the
same things over and over again.

For. LOQUACITY. Against.

Silence argues a man to suspect To speak little gives grace and

authority to what is delivered.

Silence is like sleep, it refreshes
wisdom.

Silence is the fermentation of
the thoughts.

Silence is the style of wisdom
and the candidate for truth.

either himself or other.-?.

All restraints are irksome, but
especially that of the tongue.

Silence is the virtue of fools.

Silence, like the night, is fit for
treacheries.

Thoughts, like waters, are best
in a running stream.

Silence is a kind of solitude.

He who is silent exposes himself
to censure.

For. LOVE. Against.

Every man seeks, but the lovrr The stage is more beholden to

only finds, himself. love than civil lijf,

CHAP. 1II.J EXAMPLES OF ANTITIJETA. l'i»7

Tlie mind is best regulated by I like not such men as are wholly

the predominancy oi some power- taken up with one thing-,
ful affection. Love is but a narrow conteni-

He who is wise will pursue some plation.
one desire ; for he that affects not
one thing above another, finds all
flat and distasteiul.

Why should not one man rest in
one individual ?

For. MAGNANIMITY. Against.

When the mind proposes ho- Magnanimity is a poetical

nourable ends, not only the vir- virtue,
tues but the deities are ready to
assist.

Virtues proceeding from habit
or precept ai-e vulgar, but those
that proceed from the end,
heroical.

For. NATURE. Ayaintt.

Custom goes in arithmetical, but Men think according to nature,

nature in pjeometrical progression. speak according to precept, but act

As laws are to custom in states, according to custom,
so is nature to custom in particular Nature is a kind of schoolmaster;

persons. custom, a magistrate.

Custom against nature is a kind
of tyranny, but easily suppressed.

For. NOBILITY. Against.

Where virtue is deeply implanted Nobility seldom springs iVom

from the stock, there can be no virtue, and virtue seldomer from
vice. nobility.

Nobility is a laurel conierred by Nobles oftener plead their an-

time. cestors for pardon than promotion.

If we reverence antiquity in New rising men are so indus-

dead monuments, we should do it Crious as to make nobles seem like
much more in living ones. statues.

^f we despise nobility in families, Nobles, like bad racers, look

what difference is there betwixt back too often in the course,
men and brutes ?

Nobility shelters virtue from
envy and recommends it to favour.

For. POPULARITY. Against.

Uniformity commonly pleases He who suits with fools may

wise men, yet it is a point of wis- himself be suspected,
dom to humour the changeable He who pleases the rabble is

nature of fools. commonly turbulent.

To honour the people is the way No moderate counsels take with
to be honoured. the vulgar.

Men in place are usually awed To fawn on the people ia tho

Dot by one m&n but the multitude. basest flattery.

258 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VL

For. PRAISE. Against.

Praise is the reflected ray of Fame makes a quick messenger
virtue. but a rash judge.

Praise is honour obtained by What has a good man to

free voices. do with the breath of the

Many states confer honours, but vulgar ?

praise always proceeds from liberty. Fame, like a river, buoys up

The voice of the people hath things light and swollen,butdrow .ia
something of divine, else how those that are weighty,
should so many become of one Low virtues gain the praise of

mind ? the vulgar, ordinary ones astonish

No wonder if the commonalty them, but of the highest they ha^e
cpeak truer than the nobility, be- no feeling.

cause they speak with less danger. Praise is got by bravery mo '8

than merit, and given rather -o
the vain and empty than to tl e
worthy and substantial.

For. PREPARATION. Against.

He who attempts great matters The first occasion is the best
with small means hopes for oppor- preparation,
tunity to keep him in heart. Fortune is not to be fettered in

Slender provision buys wit, but the chains of preparation,
not fortune. The interchange of preparation

and action are politic, but the se
paration of them ostentatious and
unsuccessful.

Great preparation is a prodigj 1
both of time and business.

For. PRIDE. Against.

Pride is inconsistent even with Pride is the ivy of virtue,

vice; and as poison expels poison, Other vices are only opposite ?

so are many vices expelled by to virtues, but pride is even cor. -
pride. tagious.

An easy nature is subject to Pride wants the best condition

other men's vices, but a proud one of vice, concealment,
only to its own. A proud man, while he despise I

Pride, if it rise from a contempt others, neglects himself.
of others to a contempt of itself, at
length becomes philosophy.

For. READINESS. Against.

That is unseasonable wisdom That knowledge is not deep

which is not ready. fetched which lies ready at hand

He who errs suddenly, suddenly Wisdom is like a garment

reforms his error. lightest when readiest.

To be wise upon deliberation, They whose counsels are no

ond not upon present occasion, is ripened by deliberation have no1
no fjreat matter. their prudence ripened by age.

What is suddenly invented sud
denly vanishes.

CHAP. III.]

EXAMPLES OF ANTITHETA.

259

For.

REVENGE.

Against.

Private revenge is a kind of
wild justice.

He who returns injury for
injury violates the law, not the
person.

The fear of private revenge is
useiul, for laws are often asleep.

He who does the wrong is the
aggressor, but he who returns it
the protractor.

The more prone men are to re
venge, the more it should be weeded
out.

A revengeful man may be slow
in time, though not in will.

Far.

RICHES.

They despise riches who despair
of them.

Envy at riches has made virtue
a goddess.

Whilst philosophers dispute
whether all things should be re
ferred to virtue or pleasure, let us
be collecting the instruments of
both.

Riches turn virtue into a com
mon good.

The command of other advan
tages are particular, but that of
riches universal.

Against.

Great riches are attended either
with care, trouble, or fame, but no
use.

What an imaginary value is set
upon stones and other curiosities,
that riches may seem to be of some
service.

Many who imagine all things
may be bought by their riches,
forget they have sold them
selves.

Riches are the baggage of vir
tue, necessary though cumber-
uome.

Riches are a good servant but a
bad master.

For.

SUPERSTITION.

Ayainst.

They who err out of zeal, though
they are not to be approved, should
yet be pitied.

Mediocrity belongs to morality,
extremes to divinity.

A superstitious man is a reli
gious formalist.

I should sooner believe all the
fables and absurdities of any reli
gion than that the universal frame
L> without a deity.

As an ape appears the more
deformed for his resemblance to
man, so the similitude of supersti
tion to religion makes it the more
odious.

What affectation is in civil mat
ters such is superstition in divine.i1

It were better to have no belief
of a God than such an one as dis
honours him.

It was not the school of Epi
curus, but the Stoics, that dis
turbed the states of old.

The real atheists are hypocrites,
who deal continually in holy things
without feeling.

f Superstition is anything but affectation. They are hypocrites who
dissemble : those who believe too much are generally over earnest. Ed.

260 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 1*BOOK VL

For. SUSPICION. Against.

Distrust is the sinew of pru Suspicion breaks tho bonds of

dence, and suspicion a strengthener trust,

of the understanding. To be overrun with suspicion

That sincerity is justly suspected is a kind of political madness,
which suspicion weakens.

Suspicion breaksafrail integrity,
but confirms a strong one.

For. TACITURNITY. Against.

Nothing is concealed from a From a silent man all things n re
silent man, for all is safely dcpo- concealed, because he returns no-
sited with him. thing but silence.

He who easily talks what he Change of customs keeps m«!ii

knows, will also talk what he knows secret,

not. Secrecy is the virtue of a co i-

Mysteries are due to secrets. fessor.

A close man is like a man un
known.

For. TEMPERANCE. Against.

To abstain and sustain are nearly I like not bare negative virtues ;

the same virtue. they argue innocence, not merit.

Uniformity, concords, and the The mind languishes that is m>t

measure of motions, are things sometimes spirited up by excess,

celestial and the characters of I like the virtues which produce

eternity. the vivacity of action, not the du -

Temperance, like wholesome ness oi passion.

cold, collects and strengthens the The sayings, "Not to use, thai

force of the mind. you may not desire;" "Not t)

When the senses are too exqui- desire, that you may not fear," &c.,

site and wandering, they want nar- p-oceed from pusillanimous an<l

cotics, so likewise do wandering distrustful natures,
affections.

For. VAINGLORY. Against.

He who seeks his own praise at The vain-glorious are alway

the same time seeks the advantage factious, false, fickle, and upon th»«

of others. extreme.

He who is so strait-laced as to Tliraso is Gnatho's prey,

regard nothing that belongs to It is shameful in a lover to cour

others, will pei Imps account public the maid instead of the mistress

affairs impertinent. but praise is only virtue's hand

Such dispositions as have a mix- maid,
ture of levity, more easily under
take a public charge.

For. UNCHASTITY. Against.

It is jealousy th.it makes chastitj Incontinence is one :f Circe's

a virtue. worst transformations.

He must be a melancholy mor- The unchaste liver has no re«

tal who thinks Venus a grave lady. verence for himself, which is slack*

Why is a part of regimen, pre- ening thy bridle of vice.

CHAP. III.] EXAMPLES OF ANTITHETA. 261

tende-l cleanness, and ths daughter They who, with Pari?, make

oi pride, placed among the virtues? beauty their wish, lose, as he did,

In amours, as in wild fowl, there wisdom and power,
is property ; but the right is trans- Alexander lell upon no popular

ferred with possession. truth when he said that sleep and

lust were the earnest ot death.

For. WATCHFULNESS. Against.

More dangers deceive by fraud He bids danger advance, who

than force. buckles against it.

It is easier to prevent a danger Even the remedies of dangers

than to watch its approach. are dangerous.

Danger is no longer light if it It is better to use a few approved

once seem light. remedies than to venture upon

n::iny unexperienced particulars.

Fur. WIFE AND CHILDREN. Arjairst.

Charity to the commonwealth He who hath wife and children

begins with private families. hath given hostages to fortune.

Wife and children are a kind of Generation and issue are human

discipline, but unmarried men are acts, but creation and its works

morose and cruel. are divine.

A single life and a childless state Issue is the eternity of brutes ;

fii men for nothing but flight. but fame, merit, and institutions

He sacrifices to death who begets the eternity of men.

no children. Private regards generally pre-

The happy in other respects are vail over public,

commonly unfortunate in their Some affect the fortuneof Priam,

children, lest the human state in surviving his ia,mily.
should too nearly approach the
divine.

For. YOUTH. Against.

The first thoughts and counsels Youth is the field of repent-

of youth have somewhat divine. ance.

Old men are wise for themselves, Youth naturally despises the

but less for others and the public authority of age, that every one

good. may grow wise at his peril.

If it were visible, old age de- The counsels whereat time did

forms the mind more than the not assist are not ratified by him.

body. Old men commute Venus for the

Old men fear all things but the graces."*
gods.

The examples of antithets here laid down may not, per
haps, deserve the place assigned them ; but as they we'-*
collected in my youth, and are really seeds, not flowers, I was
unwilling they should be lost. In this they plainly show a

« Understand propriety and decorum.

U62 ADVANCEMENT OP LEAKNINQ. [BOOK VI

juvenile warmth, that they abound in the moral and demon
strative kind, but touch sparingly upon the deliberative and
judicial.

A third collection wanting to the apparatus of rhetoric, is
what we call lesser forms. And these are a kind of portals,
postern-doors, outer rooms, back-rooms, and passages of
speech, which may serve indifferently for all subjects ; such
as prefaces, conclusions, digressions, transitions, <fec. For ;is
in building, a good distribution of the frontispiece, stah--
cases, doors, windows, entries, passages, and the like, is not
only agreeable but useful ; so in speeches, if the accessories
or under-parts be decently and skilfully contrived and place 1,
they are of great ornament and service to the whole structure
of the discourse. Of these forms, we will just propose one
example or two ; for though they are matters of no small
use, yet because here we add nothing of our own, and only
take naked forms from Demosthenes, Cicero, or other select
authors, they may seem of too trivial a nature to spend tin e
therein.

EXAMPLES OF LESSER FORMS.

A CONCLUSION IN THE DELIBERATIVE.

So the past fault may be at once amended, and future
inconvenience prevented.

COROLLARY OP AN EXACT DIVISION.

That all may see I would conceal nothing by silence, nt r
cloud anything by words.

A TRANSITION, WITH A CAVEAT

But let us leave the subject fir the present, still reserving to
ourselves the liberty of a retrospection.

A PREPOSSESSION AGAINST AN INVETERATE OPINION.

/ ivill let you understand to the full what sprung from tie
thing itself, what error has tacked to it, and what envy has
raised upon it.

And these few examples may serve to show our meaning
us to the lesser forms of speech.1

r Though the ancients may seem to have j>erfected rhetoric, yet the
moderns have given it new light. Gerhord Vossius bestowed incrediula
pains upon this art, as appears by his book " De Natura et Constiti •

CHAP. IV.] AR1 OP CRITICISM. 263

CHAPTER IV.

Two General Appendices to Tradition, viz., the Arts of
Teaching and Criticism.

THERE remain two general appendages to the doctrine of
delivery ; the one relating to criticism, the other to school -
learning. For as the principal part of traditive prudence
turns upon the writing ; so its relative turns upon the read
ing of books. Now reading is either regulated by the
assistance of a master, or left to every one's private industry ;
but both depend upon criticism and school-learning.

Criticism regards, first, the exact correcting and publish
ing of approved authors ; whereby the honour of such
authors is preserved, and the necessary assistance afforded to
the reader. Yet the misapplied labours and industry of
some have in this respect proved highly prejudicial to learn
ing ; for many critics have a way, when they fall upon any
thing they do not understand, of immediately supposing a
fault in the copy. Thus, in that passage of Tacitus, where a
certain colony pleads a right of protection in the senate,
Tacitus tells us they were not favourably heard ; so that the
ambassadors distrusting their cause, endeavoured to procure
the favour of Titus Vinius by a present, and succeeded ; upon
which Tacitus has these words : " Turn dignitas et antiquitas
coloniaB valuit :" "Then the honour and antiquity of the colony
had weight," in allusion to the sum received.* But a consi
derable critic here expunges "turn," and substitutes "tantum,"
which quite corrupts the sense. And from this ill practice
of the critics, it happens that the most corrected copies are
often the least correct. And to say the truth, unless a critio

tione Rhetoricse ; " and still more by his " Institutions Oratorise."
See also Wolfgang ; Schoensleder's "Apparatus Eloquentiae ;" "Tesmari
Exercitationes Rhetoricae," &c. Several French authors have likewise
cultivated this subject ; particularly Rapin, in his " Reflexions sur
1'Eloquence ;" Bohour, in his " Maniere de bien Penser dans les Ouvrages
de 1'Esprit ;" and his "Pensdes Ingdnieuses ;" Father Laray, in his
"Art de Parler." See also M. Cassander's French translation of
Aristotle's Rhetorics; the anonymous pieces, entitled, "L'Art de
Penser," and "L'Art de Persuader ;" Le Clerc's " Historia Rhetoricse, "
in his " Ars Critica ;" and " StoUius de ArU Rhetorics," in his " Iu-
troductio in Historiam Literariam." Shaw.
• Hist. b. i c. as.

204 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK Vt.

is well acquainted with the sciences treated in the books he
publishes, his diligence will be attended with danger.

A second thing belonging to criticism is the explanation
and illustration of authors, comments, notes, collections, <feo.
But here an ill custom has prevailed among the critics of
skipping over the obscure passages, and expatiating upon
such as are sufficiently clear, as if their design were not so
much to illustrate their author, as to take all occasions ct
showing their own learning and reading. It were therefore
to be wished, that every original writer who treats an obscur-3
or noble subject, would add his own explanations to his own
work, so as to keep the text continued and unbroken by
digressions or illustrations, and thus prevent any wrong in
terpretation by the notes of others.

Thirdly, there belongs to criticism the thing from whence*
its name is derived ; viz., a certain concise judgment or cen
sure of the authors published, and a comparison of them witl
other writers who have treated the same subject. Whence
the student may be directed ia the choice of his books, and
come the better prepared to their perusal ; and this seems tc
be the ultimate office of the critic, and has indeed been
honoured by some greater men in our age than critics are
usually thought.

For the doctrine of school-learning, it were the shortest
way to refer it to the Jesuits, who, in point of usefulness,
have herein excelled ; yet we will lay down a few admoni
tions about it. We highly approve the education of youth
in colleges, and not wholly in private houses or schools.b For
in colleges, there is not only a greater emulation of the
youth among their equals, but the teachers have a venerable
aspect and gravity, which greatly conduces towards in
sinuating a modest behaviour, and the forming of tender
minds from the first, according to such examples ; and be
sides these, there are many other advantages of a collegiate
education. But for the order and manner of discipline, it ia
of capital use to avoid too concise methods and too hasty an
opinion of learning, which give a pertness to the mind, and
rather make a show of improvement than procure it. But
excursions of genius are to be somewhat favoured ; so that
if a scholar perform his usual exercises, he may be suffered
b See Osboru's Advice to a Son.

CfiAfc IV. J fKOPfifc CHOICE OP STUDIES. 205

to steal time for other tilings whereto he is more inclined.
It must also be carefully noted, though it has, perhaps,
hitherto escaped observation, that there are two correspond
ent ways of enuring, exercising, and preparing the genius ;
the one beginning with the easier, leads gradually on to inoro
difficult things ; and the other, commanding and imposing
such as are the harder at first ; so that when these arc
obtained, the easier may be more agreeably despatched. For
it is one method to begin swimming with bladders, and
another to begin dancing with loaded shoes. Nor is it easy
to see how much a prudent intermixture of these two ways
contributes to improve the faculties both of body and mind.
Again, the suiting of studies to the genius is oi singular use ;
which masters should duly attend to, that the parent may
thence consider what kind of life the child is fittest for.
And further, it must be carefully observed, not only that
every one makes much greater progress in those things
whereto he is naturally inclined, but also, that there are cer
tain remedies in a proper choice of studies for particular
indispositions of mind. For example, inattention and a
volatility of genius may be remedied by mathematics, where
in, if the mind wander ever so little, the whole demonstration
must be begun anew. Exercises, also, are of great efficacy
in teaching, but few have observed that these should not only
be prudently appointed, but prudently changed. For, as
Cicero well remarks, "faults as well as faculties are generally
exercised in exercises ;" whence a bad habit is sometimes
acquired and insinuated together with a good one. It is
therefore safer that exercises should be intermitted, and now
and then repeated, than always continued and followed.
These things, indeed, may at first sight appear light and
trivial, yet they are highly effectual and advantageous. For
as the great increase of the Roman empire has been justly
attributed to the virtue and prudence of those six rulers,
who had, as it were, the tuition of it in its youth, so proper
discipline, in tender years, has such a power, though latent
and unobserved, as neither time nor future labour can any
way subdue in our riper age. It also deserves to be remarked,
that e_ven ordinary talents in great men, used on great occa-
, may sometimes produce remarkable effects. And of
this we will give an eminent instance, the rather because the

2(56 ADVAtfCtitfEST OF LEAtttfitfG. [BOOK VI.

Jesuits judiciously retain the discipline among them. And
though the thing itself be disreputable in the profession of
it, yet it is excellent as a discipline ; we mean the action of
the theatre, which strengthens the memory, regulates the
tone of the voice and the efficacy of pronunciation ; grace
fully composes the countenance and the gesture ; procures a
becoming degree of assurance ; and lastly, accustoms youth
to the eye of men. The example we borrow from Tacitus,
of one Vibulenus, once a player, but after wards a soldier in
the Pannonian army. This fellow, upon the death of
Augustus, raised a mutiny ; so that Blesus, the lieutenant,
committed some of the mutineers ; but the soldiers broke
open the prison and released them. Upon which, Vibulenus
thus harangued the army : " You," says he, " have restored
light and life to these poor innocents ; but who gives back
life to my brother, or my brother to me ? He was sent to
you from the German army for a common good, and that
man murdered him last night, by the hands of his gladiators,
whom he keeps about him to murder the soldiers. Answer,
Blesus, where hast thou thrown his corpse ? Even enemies
refuse not the right of burial. When I shall, with tears and
embraces, have performed my duty to him, command me also
to death ; but let our fellow-soldiers bury us, who are
murdered only for our love to the legions." c With which
words, he .raised such a storm of consternation and revenge
in the army, that unless the thing had presently appeared to
be all a fiction, and that the fellow never had a brother, the
soldiers might have murdered their leader ; but he acted the
whole as a part upon the stage. And thus much for the
logical sciences.

We now come to that portion of our treatise which we
have allotted to rational knowledge. Let no one, however,
think that we hold the received division of the sciences of
small account, because we have wandered out of the beaten
paths. In so digressing we have been influenced by a
twofold necessity, — First, to unite two methods, which
both in their end and nature are altogether difierent, viz.,
the ranging in the same class those things which are na
turally related to each other, and to throw into one heap
all those things which are likely to be called immediately
« Annal. i. 22.

BOOK VII.] A KEW DIVISION N£Cl«SAR1f. 267

into use. Thus, as a secretary of a prince or of some civil
department ranges his papers according to their distinct
heads, — treaties, instructions, foreign and domestic letters,
— each occupying a separate corner of his study, and yet
does not fail to collect in some particular cabinet those
papers he is likely to use together, so in this general cabinet
of knowledge we have selected our divisions according to the
nature of things themselves; but if any particular science
required to be treated at length, we have followed those
divisions which are most conformable to use and practice.
The second necessity arose from supplying the addenda to
the sciences, and reducing them to an entire body, which
completely changed the old boundaries. For, say that the
existing arts are fifteen in number, and that the deficiencies
increase the number to twenty, as the parts of fifteen are
not the parts of twenty, two, four, and three being prime
numbers in each, it is plain that a new division was forced
upon us.

SEVENTH BOOK.

CHAPTER I.

Ethics divided into the Doctrine of Models and the Georgics (Culture)
of the Mind. Division of Models into the Absolute and Comparative
Good. Absolute Good divided into Personal and National.

WE next, excellent King, proceed to ethics, which has the
human will for its subject. Reason governs the will, but
apparent good seduces it : its motives are the affections, and
its ministers the organs and voluntary motions. It is ot this
doctrine that Solomon says, " Keep thy heart with all dili
gence,3 for out of it are the actions of life." The writers
upon this science appear like writing-masters, who lay before
their scholars a number of beautiful copies, but give them no
directions how to guide their pen or shape their letters ; for
BO the writers upon ethics have given us shining draughts,
descriptions, and exact images of goodness, virtue, duties,
happiness, &c., as the true objects and scope of the human

• Prov. iv, 23.

2G8 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII.

will and desire ; but for obtaining these excellent and well-
described ends, or by what means the mind may be broko
and fashioned for obtaining them, they either touch this sub
ject not at all or slightly.b We may dispute as much as we
please, that moral virtues are in the human mind by habit,
not by nature; that generous spirits are led by reason, but
the herd by reward and punishment ; that the mind must be
set straight, like a crooked stick, by bending it the contrary
way, &c.c But nothing oi this kind of glance and-touch
can in any way supply the want of the thing we are now iu
quest of.

The cause of this neglect I take to be that latent rock
whereon so many of the sciences have split, viz., the aversion
that writers have to treat of trite and vulgar matters, which
are neither subtle enough for dispute nor eminent enough
lor ornament. It is not easy to see how great a misfortune
hath proceeded hence, — that men, through natural pride and
vain-glory, should choose such subjects and methods of treat
ing them, as may rather show their own capacities, than be
of use to the reader. Seneca says excellently, " Eloquence is
hurtful to those it inspires with a desire of itself, and not of
things;"*1 for writings should make men in love with the
subject, and not with the writer. They, therefore, take the
just course who can say of their counsels as Demosthenes
did, — " If you put these things in execution, you shall not
only praise the orator for the present, but yourselves also
soon after, when your affairs are in a better posture."6 As
for myself, excellent King, to speak the truth, I have fre
quently neglected the glory of my order, name, and learning,
both in the works I now publish and those which I havo
already designed to execute, in following out my direct pur
pose of advancing the happiness of mankind ; so that I may
fairly say, though marked out by nature to be the architect
of philosophy and the sciences, I have submitted to become
a common workman and labourer, there being many mean

b For the History of Morality, consult Scheurlius's " Bibliographia
Moralis,"ed.l686; Placcius's " Epitome BibliothecseMoralis;" "Paschius
ile variis Moralia tradendi Modis Formisque," 1707 ; Barbeyrac's Preiace
to his French translation oi Puffendori " De Jure Naturae et Gentium;**
and " Stollii Introductio in Historian! Literariam," pp. 692 — 752. £d.

c Arist. Ethics, ii. d Epist 100, towards the end.

• Olynthias 25, towards the end.

CHAP. I.J ETHICS — THE NATURE OF GOOD. 269

things necessary to the erection of the structure, which
others, out of a natural disdain, refused to attend to. But
in ethics the philosophers have culled out a certain splendid
mass of matter, wherein they might principally show their
force of genius or power of eloquence ; but for other things
that chiefly conduce to practice, as they could not be so
gracefully set off, they have entirely neglected them. Yet
so many eminent men, surely, ought not to have despaired of
a like success with Virgil, who procured as much glory for
eloquence, ingenuity, and learning, by explaining the homely
observations of agriculture as in relating the heroic acts of
^Eneas, —

" Nee sum animi dubius, verbis ea vincere magnum
Quam sit, et angustis hunc addere rebus honorem."*

And certainly, if men were bent, not upon writing at leisure
what may be read at leisure, but really to cultivate and im
prove active life, the georgics of the mind ought to be as
highly valued as those heroical portraits of virtue, goodness,
and happiness wherein so much pains have been taken.

We divide ethics into two principal doctrines, — the one of
the model or image of good, the other of the regulation and
culture of the mind, which I commonly express by the word
georgics. The first describes the nature of good, and the
other prescribes rules for conforming the mind to it. The
doctrine of the image of good, in describing the nature of
good, considers it either as simple or compounded, and either
as to the kinds or degrees thereof. In the latter of these
the Christian faith has at length abolished those infinite dis
putes and speculations as to the supreme degree of good,
called happiness, blessedness, or the " summum bonum,"
which was a kind of heathen theology. For, as Aristotle
said, " Youth might be happy, though only in hope;"? so,
according to the direction of faith, we must put ourselves in
the state of minors, and think of no other felicity, but that
founded in hope. Being, therefore, thus delivered from this
ostentatious heaven of the heathens, who, following Seneca,
"Vere magnum habere fragilitatiMu hominis, securitatem
Dei,"h exaggerated the perfectibility of man's nature, — we

« Georg. iii. 280. * Nic. Ethics, i. 10 ; Rhet. ii. -2, 8,

k Epist. 63. 8 12.

270 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VII.

may, with less offence to truth and sobriety, receive much
of what they deliver about the image of good. As for the
nature of positive and simple good, they have certainly drawn
it beautifully and according to the life, in several pieces
exactly representing the form of virtue and duty, — their
order, kinds, relations, parts, subjects, provinces, actions, and
dispensations. And all this they have recommended and
insinuated to the mind with great vivacity and subtilty of
argument, as well as sweetness of persuasion, at the same
time faithfully guarding, as much as was possible by words,
against depraved and popular errors and insults. And in
deducing the nature of comparative good they have not been
wanting, but appointed three orders thereof, — they have
compared contemplative and active life together;1 distin
guished between virtue with reluctance, and virtue secured
and confirmed ; represented the conflict betwixt honour and
advantage ; balanced the virtues, to show which overweighed,
and the like, — so that this part of the image of good is
already nobly executed ; and herein the ancients have shown
wonderful abilities. Yet the pious and strenuous diligence
of the divines, exercised in weighing and determining studies,
moral virtues, cases of conscience, and fixing the bounds of
sin, have greatly exceeded them. But if the philosophers,
before they descended to the popular and received notions of
virtue and vice, pain and pleasure, &c., had dwelt longer
upon discovering the roots and fibres of good and evil, they
would, doubtless, have thus gained great light to their sub
sequent inquiries, especially if they had consulted the nature
of things, as well as moral axioms, they would have shortened
their doctrines and laid them deeper. But as they have
entirely omitted this or confusedly touched it, we will here
briefly touch it over again, and endeavour to open and
cleanse the springs of morality, before we come to the geor-
gics of the mind, which we set down as deficient.

All things are endued with an appetite to two kinds of
good, — the one as the thing is a whole in itself, the other as
it is a part of some greater whole; and this latter is more
worthy and more powerful than the other, as it tends to the
conservation of a more ample form. The first may be called

1 See Arirt. Eth. Nic. i. S, sq.

CHAP. I.] GOOD — INDIVIDUAL AND SOCIAL. 271

individual or self-good, and the latter, good of communion.
Iron by a particular property moves to the loadstone, but if
the iron be heavy, it drops its affection to the loadstone and
tends to the earth, which is the proper region of such ponde
rous bodies. Again, though dense and heavy bodies tend to
the earth, yet rather than nature will suffer a separation in
the continuity of things, and leave a vacuum, as they speak,
these heavy bodies will be carried upwards, and forego their
affection to the earth, to perform their office to the world.
And thus it generally happens, that the conservation of the
more general form regulates the lesser appetites. But this
prerogative of the good of communion is more particularly
impressed upon man, if he be not degenerate, according to
that remarkable saying of Pompey, who, being governor of
the city purveyance at a time of famine in Rome, and en
treated by his friends not to venture to sea whilst a violent
storm was impending, answered, " ]\£y_gpingjs necessary, but.
jiot my life;"k so that the desire of life, which is greatest in
the individual, did not with him outweigh his affection and
fidelity to the state. But no philosophy, sect, religion, law,
or discipline, in any age, has so highly exalted the good of
communion, and so far depressed the good of individuals, as
the Christian faith; whence it may clearly appear that one
and the same God gave those laws of nature to the creatures
and the Christian law to men. And hence we read that
some of the elect and holy men, in an ecstasy of charity and
impatient desire of the good of communion, rather wished
their names blotted out of the book of life than that their
brethren should miss of salvation.1

This being once laid down and firmly established, will put
an end to some of the soberest controversies in moral philo
sophy. And first, it determines that question about the
preference of a contemplative to an active life, against the
opinion of Aristotle ; as all the reasons he produces for a
contemplative life regard only private good, and the pleasure
or dignity of an individual person, in which respects the
contemplative life is doubtless best, and like the comparison
made by Pythagoras,m to assert the honour and reputation

k Plut. Life Pomp. l St. Paul, Rom. ix.

m Jamblycus's life, in the Tus. Quaest. v 3. Cicero substitutes Leon«
tius, prince of the Phoenicians, for Hieron.

272 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VII.

of philosophy, when being asked by Hiero who he was, he
answered, " I am a looker-on ; for as at the Olynipic gatnea
some come to try for the prize, others to sell, others to meet
their friends and be merry, but others again conui merely as
spectators, I am one of the latter." But men ought to know
that in the theatre of human life it is only lor God and
angels to be spectators. Nor could any doubt about this
matter have arisen in the Church, if a monastic life had been
merely contemplative and unexercised in ecclesiastical duties,
— as continual prayer, the sacrifice of vows, oblations to God,
and the writing of theological books, for propagating the
Divine law — as Moses retired in the solitude of the mount,
and Enoch, the seventh from A dam, who, though the Scripture
says he walked with God, intimating he was the first founder
of the spiritual life, yet enriched the Church with a book of
prophecies cited by St. Jude. But for a mere contemplative
life, which terminates in itself, and sends out no rays either
of heat or light into human society, theology knows it not.

It also determines the question that has been so vehe
mently controverted between the schools of Zeno and So
crates on the one side, who placed felicity in virtue, simple,
or adorned, and many other sects and schools on the other,
— as particularly the schools of the Cyrenaics and Epicureans,
who placed felicity in pleasure;" thus making virtue a mere
handmaid, without which pleasure could not be well served.
Of the same side is also that other school of Epicurus, as on
the reformed establishment, which declared felicity to be
nothing but tranquillity and serenity of mind. With these
also joined the exploded school of Pyrrho and Herillus, who
placed felicity in an absolute exemption from scruples, and
the allowing no fixed and constant nature of good and evil,
but accounting all actions virtuous or vicious, as they pro
ceed from the mind by a pure and undisturbed motion, or
with aversion and reluctance.0 But it is plain that all things
of this kind relate to private tranquillity and complacency
of oiind, and by no means to the good of communion.

n For an account of these sects, consult Ki tier's " Geschichte der
Philosophic alter Zeit."

0 This opinion has been revived in the Anabaptist heresy, who mea
sure everything by the humours and .'ustincts of the spirit and constancy
or vacillation of faith. Ed.

CHAP. 1.] MAN'S DUTY TO SOCIETT. 273

Again, upon the foundation above laid we may confute
the philosophy 01" Epictetus, which rests upon supposing feli
city placed in things within our power, lest we should other
wise be exposed to fortune and contingency as if it were not
much happier to fail of success in just and honourable de
signs, when that failure makes for the public good, than to
secure an uninterrupted enjoyment of those things which
make only for our private fortune. Thus Gonsalvo at the
head of his army, pointing to F"^ples, nobly protested he had
much rather, by advancing a step, meet certain death, than
by retiring a step prolong his life. And to this agrees the
wise king, who pronounces " a good conscience to be a con
tinual feast ;"i thereby signifying that the consciousness of
good intentions, however unsuccessful, affords a joy more
real, pure, and agreeable to nature, than all the other means
that can be furnished, either for obtaining one's desires or
quieting the mind.

It likewise censures that abuse which prevailed about the
time of Epictetus, when philosophy was turned into a cer
tain art or profession of life, as if its design were not to com
pose and quiet troubles, but to avoid and remove the causes
and occasions thereof, whence a particular regimen was to be
entered into for obtaining this end, by introducing such a
kind of health into the mind as was that of Herodicus in the
body, mentioned by Aristotle,1" whilst he did nothing all hid
life long but take care of his health, and therefore abstained
from numberless things, which almost deprived him of the
use of his body ; whereas, it men were determined to perform
the duties of society, that kind of bodily health is most
desirable which is able to suffer and support all sorts of
attacks and alterations. In the same manner, that mind is
truly sound and strong which is able to break through
numerous and great temptations and disorders ; whence
Diogenes seems to have justly commended the habit which
did not warily abstain, but courageously sustain,8 — which
could check the sallies of the soul on the steepest precipice,
and make it, like a well-broken horse, stop and turn at the
shortest warning.

Lastly, it reproves that delicacy and unsociable temper

r. Arrian. i. * Piov. xv. 15. ' Rhet. L 5, 10.

* di't\ov aif't\(tv. Summa Stoic. Philos.

274 ADVANCEMENT OF ifiAfctfiim. [BOOK vn

observed in some of the most ancient philosophers of great
repute, who too effeminately withdrew from civil affairs, in
order to prevent indignities and trouble to themselves, and
live the more free and unspotted in their own opinions; as
to which point the resolution of a true moralist should be
such as Gonsalvo required of a soldier, — viz., "Not to weave
his honour so fine, as for everything to catch and rend it."

CHATTER IT.

Division of Individual Good into Active and Passive. That of Passr'O
Good into Conservative and Perfective. Good 01 the Commonwealth
divided into Geneial and Respective.

WE divide individual or self-good into active and passive.
This difference of good is also found impressed upon the
nature of all things, but principally shows itself in two appe
tites of the creatures; viz., — T. That of self-preservation an.1
defence; and, 2. That of multiplying and propagating. The
latter, which is active, seems stronger and more worthy thai
the former, which is passive; for throughout the univers3
the celestial nature is the principal agent, and the terrestrial
the patient: and in the pleasures ot animals that of genera
tion is greater than that of feeding; and the Scripture says,
" It is more blessed to give than to receive."11 And even in
common life, no man is so soft and effeminate, as not to
prefer the performing and perfecting of anything he had se ~,
his mind upon before sensual pleasures. The pre-eminence
of active good is also highly exalted from the consideration
of the state of mankind, which is mortal and subject to for
tune; for if perpetuity and certainty could be had in humai
pleasures, this would greatly enhance them; but as the case
now stands, when we count it a happiness to die late, whei
we cannot boast of to-morrow, when wa know not what t
day may bring forth, no wonder if we earnestly endeavour
after such things as elude the injuries of time: and these can
be no other than our works. Accordingly it is said, " Theii
works follow them."b

Another considerable pre-eminence of active good is given

• Aot» Ap. xx. 35. b Apoc. xiv. 18.

CHAP. II.] ACTIVE INDIVIDUAL GOOD. 275

it, and supported by that inseparable affection of human
nature — the love of novelty or variety. But this affection is
greatly limited in the pleasures of the senses, which make
the greatest part of passive good. To consider how ofteu
the same things come over in life, — as meals, sleep, and diver
sion, — it might make not only a resolute, a wretched, or a
wise, but even a delicate person wish to die.c But in actions,
enterprises, and desires, there is a remarkable variety, which
we perceive with great pleasure, whilst we begin, advance,
rest, go back to recruit, approach, obtain, &c. : whence it is
truly said, " That life without pursuit is a vague and languid
thing ;"a and this holds true both of the wise and unwise
indifferently. So Solomon says, " Even a brain-sick man
seeks to satisfy his desire, and meddles in everything."6 And
thus the most potent princes, who have all things at com
mand, yet sometimes choose to pursue low and empty de
sires, which they prefer to the greatest affluence of sensual
pleasures: thus Nero delighted in the harp, Commodus in
fencing, Antonius in racing, &c. So much more pleasing is
it to be active than in possession !

It must, however, be well observed, that active, individual
good differs entirely from the good of communion, notwith
standing they may sometimes coincide; for although this
individual active good often produces works ot beneficence,
which is a virtue of communion, yet herein they differ, that
these works are performed by most men, not with a design
to assist or benefit others, but wholly for their own gratifi
cation or honour, as plainly appears when active good falls
upon anything contrary to the good of communion; for that
gigantic passion wherewith the great disturbers f of the world
are carried away, as in the case of Sylla ^nd others, who
would render all their friends happy and all their enemies
miserable, and endeavour to make the world carry their
image, which is really warring against heaven, — th;s passion,
I say, aspires to an active individual good, at least in appear-

c Seneca. d Seneca, Epist. xxiv. § 23—25. e Prov. xxi. 25.
f So Barrow, "Sermon iii. on Redemption." There are some persona
of that wicked and gigantic disposition, contracted by evil practice, that
should one offer to instruct them in truth or move them to piety, would
exclaim with Polyphemus —

N?/7rtof ti'f, o> £fij/, ij Ttj\69iv ti\ri\ovGae,
"Of pe faovc KtXtai n Siidiptv, i] (tXeaotiai. — Odyss. ix. 27S»
T2

276 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [feOOK VII,

mice, though it be infinitely different from the good of com
munion.

We divide passive good into conservative and perfective;
for everything has three kinds of appetite with regard to its
own individual good, — the first to preserve itself, the second
t,o perfect itself, and the third to multiply and diffuse itself.
The last relates to active good, of which we have spoke u
already; and of the other two the perfective is the most
excellent; for it is a less matter to preserve a thing in its
state, and a greater to exalt its nature. But throughout the
universe are found some nobler natures, to the dignity and
excellence whereof inferior ones aspire, as to their origins; —
whence the poet said well of mankind, that " they have a i
ethereal vigour and a celestial origin:"

" Igneus est ollis vigor et ccelestis origo;" *

for the perfection of the human form consists in approaching
the Divine or angelic nature. The corrupt and preposterous
imitation of this perfective good is the pest of human life,
arid the storm that overturns and sweeps away all things,
whilst men, instead of a true and essential exaltation, fly
with blind ambition only to a local one ; for as men in sickness
toss and roll from place to place, as if by change of situation
they could get away from themselves, or fly from the disease
so in ambition, men hurried away with a false imagination or'
exalting their own nature, obtain no more than change ol'
place or eminence of post.

Conservative good is the receiving and enjoying things
agreeable to our nature; and this good, though it be the
most simple and natural, yet of all others it seems the lowest
and most effeminate. It is also attended with a difference,
about which the judgment of mankind has been partly un
settled and the inquiry partly neglected ; for the dignity and
recommendation of the good of fruition or pleasure, as it is
commonly called, consists either in the reality or strength
thereof, — the one being procured by uniformity, and the
other by variety. The one has a less mixture of evil, the
other a stronger and more lively impression of good : which
of these is the best, is the question; but whether human:
nature be not capable of both at once, has not been exa
mined.

* See Virgil, ^Eneid, vi. 730.

CHAP. II.] FELICITY — IN WHAT PLACED. 277

As for the question, it began to be debated between So
crates and a Sophist. Socrates asserted that felicity lay in
a constant peace and tranquillity of mind, but the Sophist
placed it in great appetite and great fruition. From reason
ing they fell to railing, when the Sophist said, the felicity of
Socrates was the felicity of a stock or a stone ; Socrates, on
the other hand, said, the felicity of the Sophist was the feli
city of one who is always itching and always scratching.
And both opinions have their supporters;11 for the school
even of Epicurus, which allowed that virtue greatly con
duced to felicity, is on the side of Socrates; and if this be
the case, certainly virtue is more useful in appeasing disor
ders than in obtaining desires. The Sophist's opinion is some
what favoured by the assertion above mentioned, viz., that
perfective good is superior to conservative good, because
every obtaining of a desire seems gradually to perfect nature,
which though not strictly true, yet a circular motion has
some appearance of a progressive one.

As for the other point, whether human nature is not at
the same time capable both of tranquillity and fruition, a
just determination of it will render the former question un
necessary. And do we not often see the minds of men so
framed and disposed, as to be greatly affected with present
pleasures, and yet quietly suffer the loss of them 1 — Whence
that philosophical progression, " Use not, that you may not
wish; wish not, that you may not fear," seems an indication
of a weak, diffident, and timorous mind. And, indeed, most
doctrines of the philosophers appear to be too distrustful,
and to take more care of mankind than the nature of the
thing requires. Thus they increase the fears of death by the
remedies they bring against it; for whilst they make the
life of man little more than a preparation and discipline for
death, it is impossible but the enemy must appear terrible,
when there is no end of the defence to be made against him.
The poet did better for a heathen, who placed the end of
life among the privileges of nature, —

" Qui spatium vitoe extremura inter munera ponat
Naturae."'

Thus the philosophers, in all cases, endeavour to render
the mind too uniform and harmonical, without enuring it tq
k Plato, Gorgias, i. 492. l Juvenal, Sat. x. 360,

278 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VU

extreme and contrary motions; and the reason seems to be,
that they give themselves up to a private life, free from dis
quiet and subjection to others; whereas men should rather
imitate the prudence of a lapidary, who, finding a speck or
a cloud in a diamond, that may be ground out without too
much waste, takes it away, or otherwise leaves it untouched ;
and so the serenity of the mind is to be consulted without
impairing its greatness. And thus much for the doctrine of
self-good.

The good of communion, which regards society, usually
goes by the name of duty, a word that seems more properly
used of a mind well disposed towards others; whilst the term
virtue is used of a mind well formed and composed within
itself. Duty, indeed, seems at first to be of political cons -
deration; but if thoroughly weighed, it truly relates to the
rule and government of one's self, not others. And as i i
architecture it is one thing to fashion the pillars, rafters, an i
other parts of the building, and prepare them for the work,
and another to fit and join them together, so the doctrine
of uniting mankind in society differs from that which rer-
ders them conformable and well affected to the benefits cf
society.

This part concerning duties is likewise divided into two,
• — the one treating of the duties of man in common, and th 3
other of respective duties, according to the profession, voca
tion, state, person, and degree of particulars.11 The first of
these, we before observed, has been sufficiently cultivated
and explained by the ancient and later writers. The othe •
also has been touched here and there, though not digested
and reduced into any body of science.1 We do not, howevei,
except to its being treated piecemeal, as judging it the bes;
way to write upon this subject in separate parts; for who
will pretend he can justly discourse and define upon tho
peculiar and relative duties of all orders and conditions of

k For the modern writers in this ^?.y. see Morhof 's "Polyhistor,"tom.
iii. lib. i. "De Philosophise moralis Scriptcribus ; " and " Stollii Intro-
ductio in Historiam Literariam, de Philosophia generation morr.li ;" in
particular, consult PufTendorf, " De Officio Hominis and Civis." Shaw

1 This appears to be attempted by Grotius, in his book " De Jure Bell,
ac Pacis ;" and by Puffendorf, in his " De JureXaturaa et Gentium."
See M. Barbeyrac's translation of the latter into French, with
lions, '

CHAP. II.] PRAISE OP THE IKON BASILICON. 279

men ? But for treatises upon this subject, -which have no
tincture of experience, and are only drawn from general and
scholastic knowledge, they commonly prove empty and use
less performances; for though a bystander may sometimes
see what escaped the player, and although it be a kind of
proverb, more bold and true with regard to prince and
people, " that a spectator in the valley takes the best view
of a mountain," yet it were greatly to be wished that none
but the most experienced men would write upon subjects of
this kind ; for tho contemplations of speculative men in
active matters appear no better to those who have been con
versant in business than the dissertations of Phormio upon
war appeared to Hannibal, who esteemed them but as
dreams and dotage. One fault, however, dwells with such
as write upon things belonging to their own office or art,
viz., that they hold no mean in recommending and extolling
them.

In speaking of books of this kind, it would indeed be
sacrilege in me to omit mention of your Majesty's excellent
work on the duty of a king. This work incloses the leading
treasures of divinity, politics, and ethics, besides a sprinkling
ot all other arts; and I am not afraid to pronounce it one of
the soundest and most profitable works I have ever read.
It does not swell with the heat of invention, or flag with the
coldness of negligence. The author is nowhere seized with
that dizziness which confuses his sight of the main subject,
and consequently avoids those digressions which, by a sort of
circuitous method, descants on matter foreign to the purpose.
Neither are its pages disfigured with the arts of rhetorical
perfumes and paintings, designed rather to please the reader
than to corroborate the argument. But they contain life
and spirit, as well as solidity and bulk, containing excellent
precepts, adapted as well to theoretical truth as to the expe
diency of use and action. The work is also entirely exempt
from that vice even more censured, and which, if it were
tolerable, it were so in kings, and in works on regal majesty,
viz., that it does not exaggerate the privileges of the crown
or invidiously exalt their power. For your Majesty has not
described a king of Persia or Assyria, shining forth in all
their pomp and glory, but a Moses and a David, pastors a*,
well as rulers of their people, Nor can I forget that memor-

280 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VIL

able saying which your Majesty delivered on an important
point of judicature, — That kings rule by the laws of their
kingdoms, as God by the laws of nature, and ought as rarely
to exercise their prerogative, which transcends law, as God
exercises his power of working miracles. And in your Ma
jesty's other book on a free monarchy, you give all men to
understand that your Majesty knows and comprehends th>3
plenitude of the regal power, as well as its limits; I, there
fore, have not shrunk from citing this book as one of tho
best treatises ever published upon particular and respective
duties. I can also assure your Majesty, that had the book been
a thousand years in existence it would not have lost any of
the praises I have bestowed upon it; nor am I prescribed
by the adage which forbids praise in presence; since this
rule of decorum applies only to unseasonable and excessive
eulogy. Surely Cicero, in his excellent oration in defence ol
Marcellus, is only bent upon drawing a picture with singulai
art, of Caesar's virtues, though in his presence, as the second
Pliny did for Trajan. But let us proceed with our subject.

To this part of the respective duties of vocations and par
ticular professions belongs another, as a doctrine relative or
opposite to it, viz., the doctrine of cautions, frauds, impos
tures, and their vices; for corruptions and vices are opposite
to duties and virtues ; not but some mention is already made
of them in writings, though commonly but cursorily and sati
rically, rather than seriously and gravely; for more labour is
bestowed in invidiously reprehending many good and useful
things in arts and exposing them to ridicule, than in sepa
rating what is corrupt and vicious therein from what is
sound and serviceable. Solomon says excellently, "A scorner
seeks wisdom, and finds it not; but knowledge is easy to him
that understands;"01 for whoever comes to a science with an
intent to deride and despise, will doubtless find things
enough to cavil at, and few to improve by. But the serious
and prudent treatment of the subject we speak of may be
reckoned among the strongest bulwarks ot virtue and pro
bity; for as it is fabulously related of the basilisk, that if he
sees a man first, the man presently dies ; but if the man has
the first glance, he kills the basilisk : so frauds, impostures,
and tricks do not hurt, if first discovered; but if they strike
• Prov. xiv. 0.

CHAP. II. f CIVIL AND SOCIAL OBLIGATIONS. 281

first, it is then they become dangerous, and not otherwise :
hence we are beholden to Machiavel, and writers of that
kind, who openly and unmasked declare what men do in
fact, and not what they ought to do;n for it is impossible to
join the wisdom of the serpent and the innocence of the
dove, without a previous knowledge of the nature of evil; as
without this, virtue lies exposed and unguarded. And far
ther, a good and just man cannot correct and amend the
vicious and the wicked, unless he has first searched into all
the depths and dungeons of wickedness; for men of a cor
rupt and depraved judgment ever suppose that honesty pro
ceeds from ignorance, or a certain simplicity of manners, and
is rooted only in a belief of our tutors, instructors, books,
moral precepts, and vulgar discourse , whence, — unless they
plainly perceive that their perverse opinions, their corrupt
and distorted principles, are thoroughly known to those who
exhort and admonish them as well as to themselves, — they
despise all wholesome advice; according to that admirable
saying of Solomon, " A fool receives not the words of the
wise, unless thou speakest the very things that are in his
heart."0 And this part of morality, concerning cautions and
respective vice, we set down as wanting, under the name of
sober satire, or the insides of things.

To the doctrine of respective duties belong also the
mutual duties between husband and wife, parent and child,
master and servant, as also the laws of friendship, gratitude,
and the civil obligations of fraternities, colleges, neighbour
hoods, and the like, always understanding that these things
are to be treated, not as parts of civil society, in which view
they belong to politics, but so far as the minds of particulars
ought to be instructed and disposed to preserve these bonds
of society.

The doctrine of the good of communion, as well as of self-
good, treats good not only simply, but comparatively, and
thus regards the balancing of duty betwixt man and man,
case and case, private and public, present and future, &c., —

* Perhaps the treatise of Hieron. Cardan "De Arcanis Prudentite
Civilis," is a capital performance in this way ; as exposing numeroua
tricks, frauds, and stratagems of government, so as to prevent tt«
bonest-minded from being imposed upon by them. Shaw,

• Prov. tviti. 2,

282 ADV^CEilENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VII.

as we may observe in the cruel conduct of Lucius Brutus to
his own sons, which by the generality was extolled to the
skies; yet another said,

" Infelix, utcunque ferent ea facta minores."*

So in the discourse betwixt Brutus, Cassius, and others, as
to the conspiracy against Crcsar, the question was artfully
introduced whether it were lawful to kill a tyrant :<i the
company divided in their opinions about it, some saying it
was lawful, and that slavery was the greatest of evils ; others
denying it, and asserting tyranny to be less destructive than
civil war; whilst a third kind, as if followers of Epicurus,
made it an unworthy thing that wise men should endanger
themselves for fools. But the cases of comparative duties
are numerous, among which this question frequently occurs,
whether justice may be strained for the safety of one's coun
try, or the like considerable good in future ? as to which
Jason the Thessalian used to say, Some things must be done
unjustly, that many more may be done justly. But the
answer is ready, — Present justice is in our power, but of
future justice we have no security: let men pursue those
things which are good and just at present, and leave futurity
to Divine providence.r And thus much for the doctrine of
the image of good.*

CHAPTER III.

The Culture of the Mind divided into the Knowledge of Characteristic
Differences of Affections, of Remedies and Cures. Appendix relating
to the Harmony between the Pleasures of the Mind and the Body.

WE next proceed to the cultivation of the mind, without
which the preceding part of morality is no more than an

P Virg. JEn. vi. 823. 1 Plut. Life Brut.

T Plutarch, Moral. Prooc. Gerend. Reip. i. 24.

• Such was the pretext of Titus Quintius Flaminius, who, per
cciving that the Achaean league, by which all the Grecian states were
associated in one grand confederation, imposed the principal obstacle to
the arms of Rome, deceitfully alleged that his sole design was to free
each individual state from the thraldom of one dominant power, ana
leave it to the action of its own laws. The sequel showed, however, that
his policy was only an exemplification of the old fable, for the untyincj
the bundle was immediately followed 'by tfye subjugation pf each
community. Ed,

CHAP. III.] ETHICS SUBSERVIENT TO THEOLOGY. 233

image or beautiful statue, without life or motion. Aristotle
expressly acknowledges as much, — " It is, therefore, neces
sary," says he, " to speak of virtue, what it is, and whence it
proceeds ; for it were in a manner useless to know virtue,
and yet be ignorant of the ways to acquire her."a Concern
ing virtue, therefore, we must ascertain both what land it is
and by what means it may be acquired ; for we desire a know
ledge of the thing itself and the manner of procuring its
pleasures.b And though he has more than once repeated the
same thing, yet himself does not pursue it. And so Cicero
gives it as a high commendation to the younger Cato, that
he embraced philosophy, not for the sake of disputing, as
most do, but of living philosophically.0 And though at pre
sent few have any great regard to the cultivation and dis
cipline of the mind and a regular course of life, as Senecu
phrases it, — " De partibus vitae quisque deliberat, de sumina
nemo,"d — whence this part may appear superfluous, yet wo
cannot be persuaded to leave it untouched, but rather con
clude with the aphorism of Hippocrates, that those who
labour under a violent disease, yet seem insensible of their
pain, are disordered in their mind. And men in this case
want not only a method of cure, but a particular remedy, to
bring them to their senses. If any one shall object, that the
cure of the mind is the office of divinity, we allow it ; yet
nothing excludes moral philosophy from the train of theo
logy, whereto it is as a prudent and faithful hand-maid,
attending and administering to all its wants. But though,
as the Psalmist observes, " the eyes of the maid are per
petually waiting on the hands of the mistress,"0 yet doubtless
many things must be left to the care and judgment of the
servant. So ethics ought to be entirely subservient to theo
logy, and obedient to the precepts thereof, though it may
still contain many wholesome and useful instructions within
its own limits. And therefore, when we consider the
excellence of this part of morality, we cannot but greatly
wonder it is not hitherto reduced to a body of doctrine,
which we are obliged to note as deficient ; and shall there
fore give some sketch for supplying it.

And first, as in all cases of practice, we must here dis-

• Eth. Mag. ad init. b Mag. Moral, i. c JUT. Munep. y^x, (ft
" Epist. ix*i. § 1. « Psal <*xii, 3,

284 ADVANCEMENT OP LEAKNINQ. [BOOK VII.

tinguisli the tilings in our power, and those that are not :
for the one may be altered, whilst the other can only be
applied. Thus the farmer has no command over the nature
of the soil, or the seasons of the year ; nor the physician
over the constitution of the patient, or the variety of acci
dents. In the cultivation of the mind, and the cure of its
diseases, there are three things to be considered ; viz., 1. the
different dispositions ; 2. the affections ; and 3. the reme
dies : answering in physic to the constitution, the distemper,
and the medicines. And of these three, only the last is in
our power. Yet we ought as carefully to inquire into the
things that are not in our power, as into those that are;
because a clear and exact knowledge thereof is to be made
the foundation of the doctrine of remedies, in order to their
more commodious and successful application. For clothes
cannot be made to fit, unless measure of the body be first
taken.

The first article, therefore, of the culture of the mind, will
regard the different natures or dispositions of men. But
here we speak not of the vulgar propensities to virtues and
vices, or perturbations and passions, but of such as are more
internal and radical. And I cannot sometimes but wonder
that this particular should be so generally neglected by the
writers both of morality and politics; whereas it might
afford great light to both these sciences. In astrological tra
ditions, the natures and dispositions of men are tolerably dis
tinguished according to the influences of the planets ; whence
some are said to be by nature formed for contemplation,
others for politics, others for war, <fec. So, likewise, among
the poets of all kinds, we everywhere find characters of
natures, though commonly drawn with excess, and exceeding
the limits of nature. And this subject of the different
characters of dispositions is one of those things wherein the
common discourse of men is wiser than books— a thing
which seldom happens. But much the best matter of all for
such a treatise may be derived from the more prudent his
torians ; and not so well from elogies or panegyrics, which
are usually written soon after the death of an illustrious per
son, but much rather from a whole body of history, as often
as such a person appears : for such an interwoven account
gives a better description than panegyric. And sucji e#-

CttAP. 111.] OUTLINES OF INDIVIDUAL CHARACTER. 285

amples we have in Livy, of Africanus and Cato ; in Tacitus,
of Tiberius, Claudius, and Nero ; in Herodian, of Septimius
Severus ; in Philip de Comines, of Lewis the Eleventh ; in
Guicciardine, of Ferdinand of Spain, the Emperor Maximilian,
Pope Leo, and Pope Clement. For these writers having the
image of the person to be described constantly before them,
scarce ever mention any of their acts, but at the same time
introduce something of their natures. So, likewise, some
relations which we have seen of the conclaves at Rome give
very exact characters of the cardinals : as the letters of
ambassadors do of the counsellors of princes. Let, therefore,
an accurate and full treatise be wrote upon this fertile and
copious subject. But we do not mean, that these characters
should be received in ethics as perfect civil images, but
rather as outlines, and first draughts of the images them
selves, which, being variously compounded and mixed one
among another, afford all kinds of portraits. So that an
artificial and accurate dissection may be made of men's minds
and natures, and the secret disposition of each particular
man laid open, that, from a knowledge of the whole, the
precepts concerning the cures of the mind may be more
rightly formed.f

And not only the characters of dispositions impressed by
nature should be received into this treatise, but those also
which are otherwise imposed upon the mind by the sex, age,
country, state of health, make of body, &c. And again,
those which proceed from fortune, as in princes, nobles, com
mon people, the rich, the poor, magistrates, the ignorant, tins
happy, the miserable, &c. Thus we see Plautus makes it u
kind of miracle to find an old man beneficent.

" Benignitas quidem hujus oppido ut adolescentuli est."*
And St. Paul, commanding a severity of discipline towards
the Cretans, accuses the temper of that nation from the poet :

f Compare "Les Caractbres des Passions," par M. de la Chambre, ed.
Amst. 1658; M. Clarmont, "De Conjectandis latentibus Animi AfFecti-
bus," reprinted by Conringius ; "Neuheusii Theatrutn Ingenii human i,
seu de Hominum cognoscenda Indole et Animi Secretis," 1633 ; Mr.
Evelyn's digression concerning Physiognomy, in his Discourse oi Medals;
" Les Caracteres de Theophraste, avec les Moeurs de ce Siecle," par
M. de la Bruyere, 1700. See " Stollii Introductio in Historian! Litera-
riam." p. 823. See also more to this purpose above, sect. iv. Ed.

* Miles Cloriosus, act 3, sc. 5. v. 39.

286 ADVANCEMENT OF LfcAHKlKO. [BOOK Vlt

"Thft 0 retans are always liars, evil "beasts, and slow belli es."h
Sallust notes it 01 the temper of kings, that it is frequent
with them to desire contradictories : — " Plcrumque regiae
voluntates, ut vehementes sunt ; sic mobiles, saepeque ipsae
sibi ad versos."1 Tacitus observes, that ''honours and digni
ties commonly change the temper of mankind for the worse."
" Solus Vespasianus mutatus in melius.'k Pindar remarks
that " a sudden flush of good fortune generally enervates and
slackens the mind."

" Sunt qui mngnam felicitatcm concoquere non possunt."1
The psalmist intimates, that it is easier to hold a mean in
the height, than in the increase of fortune : — " If riches
fly to thee, set not thy heart upon them."m It is true,
Aristotle, in his Rhetorics, cursorily mentions some such
observations ; and so do others up and down in their
writings : but they were never yet incorporated into moral
philosophy, whereto they principally belong, as much as
treatises of the difference of the soil and glebe belong to
agriculture, or discourses of the different complexions or
habits of the body to medicine. The thing must, therefore,
be now procured, unless we would imitate the rashness of
empirics, who employ the same remedies in all diseases and
constitutions.

Next to this doctrine of characters follows the doctrine of
affections and perturbations, which, we observed above, are
the diseases of the mind. For as the ancient politicians said
of democracies, that " the people were like the sea, and the
orators like the wind ;" so it may be truly said, that the
nature of the mind would be unruffled and uniform, if the
affections, like the winds, did not disturb it. And here,
again, we cannot but remember that Aristotle, who wrote so
many books of ethics, should never treat of the affections,
which are a principal branch thereof; and yet has given
them a place in his Rhetorics, where they come to be but
secondarily considered :n for his discourses of pleasure and
pain by no means answer the ends of such a treatise, no
more than a discourse of light and splendour would give the
doctrine of particular colours : for pleasure and pain are to

k Epist. Tit. i. 12. l Jugurtha, i. 50. k Hist. i. 53, towards the end

1 Or, jcarctTrsJ/ai ftfydv o\£ov OVK ISwaffQti. — Olymp. i. 55.

«= rir.ira fri, 11. n See b. ii. and ci. Eth. Nic. ii. 4, 1.

CHAP. 1II.J MANAGEMENT OF Tflfi AFffiCflOttS. 2S7

particular affections, as light is to colours. The Stoics, so far
as may be conjectured from what we have left oi them, cul
tivated this subject better, yet they rather dwelt upon sub
tile definitions than gave any full and copious treatise upon
it. We also find a few short elegant pieces upon some ot'
the affections; as upon anger, false modesty, and two or three
more ; but to say the truth, the poets and historians are the
principal teachers of this science ; for they commonly paint
to the lite in what particular manner the affections are to
be raised and inflamed, and how to be soothed and laid ; how
they arc to be checked and restrained from breaking into
action ; how they discover themselves, though suppressed
and smothered ; what operations they have ; what turns they
take ; how they mutually intermix ; and how they oppose
each other, &c. Among which, the latter is of extensive use
in moral and civil affairs ; I mean, how far one passion may
regulate another, and how they employ each other's assist
ance to conquer some one, after the manner of hunters and
fowlers, who take beast with beast, and bird with bird ;
which man, perhaps, without such assistance, could not so
easily do. And upon this foundation rests that excellent
and universal use of rewards and punishments in civil life.0
For these are the supports of states, and suppress all the
other noxious affections by those two predominant ones, fear
and hope. And, as in civil government, one faction fre
quently bridles and governs another ; the case is the same in
the internal government of the mind.P

We come now to those things which are within our own
power, and work upon the mind, and affect and govern tho
will and the appetite ; whence they have great efficacy in
altering the manners. And here philosophers should dili
gently inquire into the powers and energy of custom, exer
cise, habit, education, example, imitation, emulation, com
pany, friendship, praise, reproof, exhortation, reputation,

0 See Butler's "Analogy," chap, on rewards and punishments.
P See " Laelius Peregrinus de noscendis et emendandis Animi Affee-
-tionibus," ed. Lipsise, 1714 ; "Placcius de Typo Medicinae moralis;*
M. Perault, " De 1'Usage des Passions," 1668 ; " Johan. Francisc.
Buddseus de Morbis mentis humanae, de Sanitate mentis humanae, et de
Kemediis morborum, quibus mens laborat," in his " Elementa Philoso
phise Practicae," lib. de Philosophia morali, sect. iii. <ap. 3, 4, (I
See " Stollii Introduct. in Historian! Literariam," pp. 813, 814. Shaw

238 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK m

laws, books, studies, (fee. ; for these are the things which reign
in men's morals. By these agents the mind is formed and
subdued ; and of these ingredients remedies are prepared,
which, so far as human means can reach, conduce to the
preservation and recovery of the health of the mind.

To give an instance or two in custom and habit, the opi
nion of Aristotle seen\a narrow and careless, which asserts
that " custom has no power over those actions which are
natural ;4n using this example, that if a stone be a thousand
times thrown up into the air, yet it will acquire no tendency
to a spontaneous ascent. And again, that " by often seeing
or hearing, we see and hear never the better." For though
this may hold in some things, where nature is absolute, yet
it is otherwise in things where nature admits intension and
remission in a certain latitude. He might have seen, that a
strait glove, by being often drawn upon the hand, will
become easy ; that a stick, by use and continuance, will
acquire and retain a bend contrary to its natural one ; that
the voice, by exercise, becomes stronger and more sonorous ;
that heat find cold grow more tolerable by custom, &c. And
these two last examples come nearer to the point than those
he has produced. Be this as it will, the more certain he had
found it that virtues and vices depended upon habit, the
more he should have endeavoured to prescribe rules how
such habits were to be acquired or left off; since numerous
precepts may be formed for the prudent directing of exer
cises, as well those of the mind as the body. We will here
mention a few of them.

And the first shall be, that from the beginning we beware
of imposing both more difficult, and more superficial task*
than the thing requires. For if too great a burden be laid
upon a middling genius, it blunts the cheerful spirit of hope;
and if upon a confident one, it raises an opinion, from which
he promises himself more than he can perform, which leads
to indolence ; and in both cases the experiment will not
answer expectation. And this always dejects and confounds
the mind. But if the tasks are too light, a great loss is
sustained in the amount of the progress.

Secondly, to procure a habit in the exercise of any faculty,
let two seasons be principally observed : the one when the
i Nicora. Eth. ii. last ch.

CttA* Hi.] FORMATION Of HABITS. 289

mind is best, and the other when it is worst disposed for
business ; that by the former, the greater despatch may be
made ; and by the latter, the obstructions of the mind may
be borne down with a strenuous application ; whence the
intermediate times slide away the more easily and agreeably.

The third example shall be the precept which Aristotle
transiently mentions ; viz., to endeavour our utmost against
that whereto we are strongly impelled by nature ; thus, as
it were, rowing against the stream, or bending a crooked
stick the contrary way, in order to bring it straight.'

A fourth precept may be founded on this sure principle ;
that the mind is easier, and more agreeably drawn on to
those things which are not principally intended by the
operator, but conquered or obtained without premeditated
design, because our nature is such, as in a manner hates to
be commanded. There are many other useful precepts for
the regulating of custom ; and if custom be prudently and
skiliully introduced, it really becomes a second nature ; but
if unskilfully and casually treated, it will be but the ape ot
nature, and imitate nothing to the life, or awkwardly, and
with deformity.

So, with regard to books, studies, and influence over our
manners, there are numerous useful rules and directions.
One of the fathers, in great severity, called poetry the devil's
wine ; as indeed it begets many temptations, desires, and
vain opinions. And it is a very prudent saying of Aristotle,
deserving to be well considered, that " young men are im-
_jm)per heargrs of moral philosophy,"8 because the heat of
their passions is not yet allayed and tempered by time and
experience. And to say the truth, the reason why the
excellent writings and moral discourses of the ancients have
so little effect upon our lives and manners, seems to be, that
they are not usually read by men of ripe age and judgment,
but wholly left to unexperienced youths and children. And
are not young men much less fit for politics than for ethics,
before they are well seasoned with religion, and the doctrines
of morality and civility1? For being, perhaps, depraved and cor
rupted in their judgment, they are apt to think that moral
differences are not real and solid ; but that all things are to
be measured by utility and success. Thus the poet said,
' Nicom. Eth, ii. 95, towards the end. • Nic. Eth. L 15.

2 u

2 90 ADVANCEMENT OF IfiAfcNltfO. [COOK Vlt.

" Successful villany is called virtue" — " Prosperum et felix
scelus, virtus vocatur." l And again, " Ille crucein pretium
sceleris tulit, hie diadema."u The poets, indeed, speak
in this manner satirically, and through indignation; but
some books of politics suppose .the same positively, and
in earnest. For Machiavel is pleased to say, " if Caesar ha I
been conquered, lie would have become more odious thai
Catiline :" as if there was no difference, except in point cf
fortune, betwixt a fury made up of lust and blood, and ;i
noble spirit, of all natural men the most to be admired, bub
for his ambition. And hence we see how necessary it is fo .*
men to be fully instructed in moral doctrines and religious
duties, before they proceed to politics. For those bred up
from their youth in the courts of princes, and the midst o:
civil affairs, can scarce ever obtain a sincere and internal
probity of manners. Again, caution also is to be used ever,
in moral instructions, or at least in some of them, lest mer.
fshould thence become stubborn, arrogant, and unsociable.
So Cicero says of Cato : " The divine and excellent qualities
we see in him are his own ; but the things he sometimes fails
in are all derived, not from nature, but his instructors."*
There are many other axioms and directions concerning the
things which studies and books beget in the minds of men ;
for it is true that studies enter our manners, and so do con
versation, reputation, the laws, &c.

But there is another cure of the mind, which seems still
more accurate and elaborate than the rest ; depending upon
this foundation, that the minds of all men are, at certain
times, in a more perfect, and at others in a more depraved
state. The design of this cure is, therefore, to improve the
good times, and expunge the bad. There are two practical
methods of fixing the good times ; viz., 1. determined reso
lutions ; and 2. observances or exercises; which are not of
so much significancy in themselves, as because they conti
nually keep the mind in its duty. There are also two ways
of expunging the bad times ; viz., by some kind of redemp
tion, or expiation of what is past, and a new regulation of
life for the future. But this part belongs to religion, whereto

• Seneca, Here. Fur. v. 251. « Juv. Sat. xiii. 105.

* Pro L. Muraena, 89.

CHAP. i«.| fiKDS fO Sfi tftst Atfb l!6N6tfSAfetfc 291

moral philosophy is, as we said before, the genuine hand
maid.

We will therefore conclude these georgics of the mind
with that remedy which of all others is the shortest, noblest,
and most effectual for forming the mind to virtue, and
placing it near a state of perfection ; viz., that we choose
and propose to ourselves just and virtuous ends of our lives
and actions, yet such as we have in some degree the faculty
of obtaining. For it the ends of our actions are good and
virtuous, and the resolutions of our mind for obtaining them
fixed and constant, the mind will directly mould and form
itself at once to all kinds of virtue. And this is certainly an
operation resembling the works of nature, whilst the others
above mentioned seem only manual. Thus the statuary
finishes only that part ol the figure upon which his hand is
°mployed, without meddling with the others at that time,
which are still but unt'ashioned marble; whereas nature, on
the contrary, when she works upon a flower or an animal,
forms the rudiments of all the parts at once.y So when
virtues are acquired by habit, whilst \ve endeavour at tem
perance, we make but little advances towards fortitude or
the other virtues ; but when we are once entirely devoted to
just and honourable ends, whatever the virtue be which
those ends recommend and direct, we shall find ourselves
ready disposed, and possessed of some propensity to obtain
and express it. And this may be that state of mind which
Aristotle excellently describes, not as virtuous, but divine *
His words are these : — " We may contrast humanity wit!»
that virtue which is above it, as being heroic and divine."
And a little farther on : — " For as savage creatures are in
capable of vice or virtue, so is the Deity." For the divine*
state is above virtue, which is only the absence of vice. S«»
Pliny proposes the virtue of Trajan, not as an imitation, buk

7 Harvey, who was Bacon's physician, and the most celebrated
anatomist oi his day, contradicts this doctrine, affirming that nature
operates like man by production and elaboration oi parts. Ed.

1 " Humanitati autem consentaneum est opponere earn quse supra
humanitatem est heroicam sive divinam virtutem ; " and a little after,
" Nam ut ferae neque vitium neque virtus est, hie neque Dei : sed hie qui«
dein status altius quiddam virtute est, ille aliud quiddara a vj io."— •
Nic. Ethics, vii. 1. Ed

£92 ADVANCEMENT OP LEAUXlNQ. [BOOK. V1L

as an example of the divine virtue, when he says, " Men
need make no other prayers to the gods than that they
would be but as good and propitious to morals as Trajan
was."a But this savours of the profane arrogance of the
heathens, who grasped at shadows larger than the life. The
Christian religion comes to the point, by impressing charity
upon the minds of men ; which is most appositely called the
bond of perfection,1' because it ties up and fastens all tli3
virtues together. And it was elegantly said by Menander ot
sensual love, which is a bad imitation of the divine, that ib
was a better tutor for human life than a left-handed sophist ;
intimating that the grace of carriage is better formed by love;
than by an awkward preceptor, whom he calls left-handed, an
he cannot by all his operose rules and precepts, form a mai
so dexterously and expeditionary, to value himselt justly, anc
behave gracefully, as love can do. So, without doubt, if tin
mind be possessed with the fervour of true charity, he will
rise to a higher degree of perfection than by all the doctrine
of ethics, which is but a sophist compared to charity. And
as Xenophon well observed,0 whilst the other passions,
though they raise the mind, yet distort and discompose it by
their ecstasies and excesses ; whilst love alone, at the same
time composes and dilates it ; so all other human endow
ments which we admire, whilst they exalt and enlarge our
nature, are yet liable to extravagance : but of charity alone
there is no excess. The angels aspiring to be like God in
power, transgressed and fell : " I will ascend, and be like the
Most High :"d and man aspiring to be like God in knowledge,
transgressed and fell : " Ye shall be as gods, knowing good and
evil : " but in aspiring to be like God in goodness or charity,
neither man nor angel can or shall transgress. Nay, we are
invited to an imitation of it : <: Love your enemies ; do good
to those that hate you ; pray for those that despitefully use
and persecute you ; that ye may be the children of your
Father, which is in heaven : for he maketh his sun to rise
upon the good and upon the evil, and sends his rain upon the
just and upon the unjust."6 And thus we conclude this part
of moral doctrine, relating to the georgics oi the mind.
So in the archetype of the Divine nature — the heatheo

a Paneg. ixxiv. § 4 and 5. * Colos. iii. l Cjropoxlia.

« Isa. xiv. 14. • Matt. v. 44.

CHAP. III.] GOOD OF MIND AND BODY COMPARED. 293

religion, — the words " Optimus maximus," and the Scripture
pronounces the mercy of God to be above all his works.f

We have now concluded that portion of morals which
appertains to the georgics of the mind; and should any one
imagine, in reading the different parts oi this science which
we have already handled, that all our labour consists in
uniting into one digest of the sciences all that has been
neglected by other writers, and that such a work is at best
only supplying what is clear and evident, and easily arrived
at by reflection, let him freely enjoy his judgment; but at
the same time we beg him to keep in mind our first asser
tion, that we sought in these researches, not the flourish and
ornament of things, but their use and verity. lie may also
recall the ancient parable ot the Two Gates of Sleep : —
" Sunt geminae Somni Portae, quarum altera fertur
Cornea, qua veris iacilis datur exitus umbris:
Altera, candenti periecta nitens elephanto ;
Sed falsa ad ccelum mittunt insomnia manes."*

A gate of ivory is indeed very stately, but true dreams pass
through the gate of horn.

There might, however, be added, byway of appendix, this
observation, that there is a certain relation and congruity
found between the good of the mind and the good of the
body. For as the good of the body consists in, — 1. Health;
2. Comeliness; 3. Strength; and, 4. Pleasure; — so the good
of the mind, considered in a moral light, tends to render it,
— 1. sound and calm; 2. graceful; 3. strong and agile for
all the offices of life; and, 4. possessed of a constant quick
sense of pleasure and noble satisfaction. But as the lour
former excellencies are seldom found together in the body,
so are the four latter seldom found together in the mind.'1
For it is evident that many are full of wit and courage, with
out being either calm or elegant in their deportment, or
beautiful in their person; others again possess an elegant

f Eccles. xviii. 12. * Virg. JEn. vi. 893.

h This doctrine of the georgics of the mind is expressly endeavoured
to be supplied by Professor Wesenfeld, in the books he entitles "Arnoldi
Wesenield Georgica Animi et Vitae, seu Pathologia practica, moralis
nempe et civilis, ex physicis ubique iontibus repetita." Francof. ]695,
and 1712. Some account of this work is given in the " Acta Erudi-
torum." Mens. August, 1696. See also " Joan. Franc. Erttdens de
Culture Ingenit>rum," e(J, JJaJae, 1699. Shaw,

294 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII.

and fine deportment, and yet eschew hones ty and justice;
others again have pure minds, but without any qualifications
lor the business of life;1 others who perchance unite all
these three qualities, possess a sullen humour of stoical sad
ness and stupidity, — they practise virtue, but refuse to enjoy
its pleasures; and if perchance oi these qualities two or
three are sometimes found together, it seldom ii ever hap
pens that all lour can be met with in the same person.
And thus we have finished that principal branch of human
philosophy, which considers man out 01 society, and as con
sisting of a body and a soul.

EIGHTH BOOK.

CHAPTER I.

Civil Knowledge divided into the Art of Conversation, the Art of
Negotiation, and the Art of State Policy.

THERE goes an old tradition, excellent King, that many
Grecian philosophers had a solemn meeting before the am
bassador of a loreign prince, where each endeavoured to
show his parts, that the ambassador might have somewhat
to relate of the Grecian wisdom; but one among the number
kept silence,1^ that the ambassador, turning to him, asked,
" But what have you to say, that I may report it ?" He an
swered, " Tell your king that you have found one among the
Greeks who knew how to be silent."3 Indeed, I had forgot
in this compendium of arts to insert the art of silence. For
as we are now soon to be led. by the course of the work, to
treat the subject of government; and knowing that I write
to a king who is so perfect a master of this science since his
infancy, and being also mindful of the high office I hold
under your Majesty, we thought we could not have a better
occasion for putting the art of silence in practice.5 Cicero

* Mirabeau expressed the same sentiment with his usual felicity.
Energy of character is scarcely ever found except in union with violent
temperaments. The wicked only are active. Ed. * Plut. Moral.

* The fWtlior h.ere roa.kes. & coniplitnept- of &s silence to King Jaffi^g,

t

CHAP. I.] ETHICS AXD POLITICS COMPARED.

makes mention not only of an art, but even of an eloquence
to be found in s^pnnft j and relates in an epistle to Atticus,
how once in conversation he made use of this art : "On this
occasion," says he, " I assumed a part of your eloquence ; for
I said nothing." And Pindar, who peculiarly strikes the
mind unexpectedly with some short surprising sentence, has
this among the rest : " Things unsaid have sometimes a
greater effect than said." And, therefore, I have determined
either to be silent upon this subject, or, what is next to it,
very concise.

Civil knowledge turns upon a subject of all others the
most immersed in matter, and therefore very difficult to re
duce to axioms. And yet there are some things that ease
the difficulty. For, 1. as Cato said, " that the Romans were
like sheep, easier to drive in the flock than single ;" so in
this respect the office of ethics is in some degree more diffi
cult than that of politics.0 2. Again, ethics endeavours to
tinge and furnish the mind with internal goodness, whilst
civil doctrine requires no more than external goodness, which
is sufficient for society. d Whence it often happens, that a
reign may be good and the times bad. Thus we sometimes
find in sacred history, when mention is made of good and
pious kings, that the people had not yet turned their hearts
to the Lord God of their fathers. And therefore, in this
respect also, ethics has the harder task. 3. States are moved
slowly, like machines, and with difficulty ; and consequently
not soon put out of order. For, as in Egypt, the seven
years of plenty supplied the seven years of famine; so in
governments, the good regulation of former times will not
presently suffer the errors of the succeeding to prove destruc
tive. But the resolutions and manners of particular persons
are more suddenly subverted ; and this, in the last place,
bears hard upon ethics, but favours politics.

deeming it impertinent to speak of the arts of empire, to one who knew
them so well ; but the true reason appears to be, that he thought it
improper to reveal the mysteries oi state. See below, sect. xxv. Ed.

«•• Plut. Cato.

d Hence there ought to be a due difference preserved betwixt ethics
and politics, though many writers seem to mix them together ; and
form a promiscuous doctrine of the law of nature, morality, policy, and
religion together ; as particularly certaip scriptural casuists, *nd poli'
ti<?a! divines.

296 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIIL

Civil knowledge has tliree parts, suitable to the tlirco
principal acts of society ; viz., 1. Conversation ; 2. Business ;
and 3. Government. For there are three kinds of good that
men desire to procure by civil society ; viz., 1 . Refuge from
Bolitude ; 2. Assistance in the affairs of life ; and 3. Protection
against injuries. And thus there are three kinds of pru
dence, very different, and frequently separated from each
other ; viz., 1. Prudence in conversation ; 2. Prudence in
business ; 3. Prudence in government.6

Conversation, as it ought not to be over affected, much less
should it be slighted ; since a prudent conduct therein not
only expresses a certain gracefulness in men's manners, but
is also of great assistance in the commodious despatch both of
public and private business. For as action, though an ex
ternal thing, is so essential to an orator as to be preferred
before the other weighty and more internal parts of that art,
so conversation, though it consist but of externals, is, if not
the principal, at least a capital thing in the man of business,
and the prudent management of affairs. What effect the
countenance may have, appears from the precept of the
poet, — " Contradict not your words by your look," —

" Nee vultu destrue verba tuo."f

For a man may absolutely cancel and betray the force of
speech by his countenance. And so may actions themselves,

c From a mixture of these three parts of civil d* ctrine, there has of
late been formed a new kind of doctrine, which they call by the name
of civil prudence. This doctrine has been principally cultivated among
the Germans ; though hitherto carried to no great length. Hermannus
Conringius has dwelt upon it at considerable length, in his book " De
Civili Prudentia," published in the year 1662 ; and Christian Thomasius
has treated it excellently in the little piece entitled, " Primae Lineae
de Jure-consultorum Prudentia Consultatoria," &c., first published in
the year 1705, but the third edition, with notes, in 1712. The heads it
considers, are, 1. " de Prudentia in genere ;" 2. " de Prudentia con-
sultatoria;" 3. " de Prudentia Juris-consultorum ;" 4. "de Prudentia
corisulendi intuitu actiouum propriarum ;" 5. "de Prudentia dirigendi
actiones proprias in conversatione quotidiana ;" 6. " de Prudentia in
conversatione selecta;" 7. " de Prudentia intuitu societatum domesti-
carum ;" 8. "de Prudentia in societate civili ;" and 9. "de Prudentia
alios et aliis consulendi." The little piece also ot Andr. Bossius,
" ])c Prudentia Civili comparanda," deserves the perusal. See Morhof,
*' De Prudentioe Civilis Scriptoribus ;" " Struvii Bibliotheca Philoso-
>hica," cap. 7 ; and " Stollii Introduotio in Historian} Literariam, d|
Politica.." Shaw. f Ovid, Ars AmwUi, i.

CHAP. I.] CONVERSATION AND ADDRESS. 297

as well as words, be destroyed by the look ; according to
Cicero, who, recommending affability to his brother towards
the provincials, tells him, it did not wholly consist in giving
easy access to them, unless he also received them with an
obliging carriage. " It is doing nothing," says he, " to admit
them with an open door and a locked-up countenance."
" Nil interest habere ostium apertum, vultum clausum."*
We learn also that Atticus, previous to the first interview
between Cicero and Caesar, in which the issue of the war
was involved, seriously advised his friend, in his letters, to
compose his countenance and assume a calm tranquillity.
But if the management of the face alone has so great an
effect, how much greater is that of familiar conversation,
with all its attendants. Indeed the whole of decorum and
elegance of manners seems to rest in weighing and maintain
ing, with an even balance, the dignity betwixt ourselves and
others ; which is well expressed by Livy, though upon a
different occasion, in that character of a person, where he
says, that I may neither seem arrogant nor obnoxious ; that
is, neither forget my own nor others' liberty.h

On the other side ; a devotion to urbanity and external
elegance terminates in an awkward and disagreeable affec
tation. For what is more preposterous than to copy the
theatres in real life ? And though we did not fall into
this vicious extreme, yet we should waste time and depress
the mind too much by attending to such lighter matters.
Therefore, as in universities, the students, too fond of cpmpanVj
are usually told by their tutors, that friends are the thieves f

T__ J J -—.i . \

of time ; so the assiduous application to the decorum of con
versation steals from the weightier considerations. Again,
they who stand in the first rank for urbanity, and seem born, as
it were, for this alone, seldom take pleasure in anything else,
and scarce ever rise to the higher and more solid virtues. On
the contrary, the consciousness of a defect in this particular
makes us seek a grace from good opinion, which renders all
things else becoming ; but where this is wanting, men endea-

* De Petit. Consulatus, xi. 44.

h Speech of Hanno. " Nunc interroganti senator!, poeniteatne me
adhuo suscepti adversus Romanes belli ? si reticeam, aut superbus aut
obnoxius videar ; quorum alterum est homims alien.* libei'tatis oblitt,
*ltcruro su#," Livy, b, *xiii, c. 12,

298 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII.

vour to supply it by good breeding. And further, there ia
scarce any greater or more Irequent obstruction to business,
than an over-curious observance of external deccmin, with
its attendant too solicitous and scrupulous a choice of times
and opportunities. Solomon admirably says, " He that re
gards the winds shall not sow, and he that regards the clouds
shall not reap." i For we must make opportunities oftener
than we find them. In a word, urbanity is like a garment
to the mind, and therefore ought to have the conditions of a
garment ; that is, 1. it should be fashionable ; 2. not too
delicate or costly ; 3. it should be so made, as principally to
show the reigning virtue of the mind, and to supply or con
ceal deformity ; 4. and lastly, above all things, it must not
be too strait, so as to cramp the mind and* confine its
motions in business. But this part of civil doctrine relating
to conversation is elegantly treated by some writers, and can
by no means be reported as deficient. k

CHAPTER II.

The Art of Negotiation divided into the Knowledge of Dispersed Occa
sions (Conduct in Particular Emergencies), and into the Science ot
Rising in Life. Examples of the former drawn from Solomon. Pre
cepts relating to Self-advancement.

WE divide the doctrine of business into the doctrine of
various occasions, and the doctrine of rising in life. The
first includes all the possible variety of affairs, and is as the
amanuensis to common life ; but the other collects and
suggests such things only as regard the improvement of a

J Eccles. xi. 4.

" It seems of late more cultivated among the French and Germans,
than among the English. The " Morale du Monde ;" the " Modeles de
Conversation ;" the " Reflexions sur la Ridicule, and sur les moyens
Ue 1'eViter;" " La Politesse des Mceurs;" " L'Art de Plaire dans la
Conversation ;" and Frid. Gentzkenius's " Doctrina de Decoro," in his
Systema Philosophise, deserve perusal. This last work, published
in Germany, treats 1. of the nature of decorum, and its foundation ;
2. of national decorum ; 3. of human decorum ; 4. the decorum ot
youth and age ; 5. the decorum, of men and women ; 6. the decorum
of husband and wife ; 7. the decorum of the clergy ; 8. the decorum
of princes ; and 9. the decorum of the nobility, and men of letters. See
" Stollii Introductio in Historiaua L.iterariam, de Poctrina eius auod egt

" p. 79S-6,

CHAP II.] PRUDENCE IX BUSINESS. 299

man's private fortune, and may therefore serve each person
as a private register of his affairs.

No one hath hitherto treated the doctrine of business
suitably to its merit, to the great prejudice oi the character
both of learning and learned men ; for from hence proceeds
the mischief, which has fixed it as a reproach upon men of
letters, that learning and civil prudence are seldom found
together. And if we rightly observe those three kinds of
prudence, which we lately said belong to civil life, that ot
conversation is generally despised by men of learning as a
servile thing and an enemy to contemplation ; and for the
government of states, though learned men acquit themselves
well when advanced to the helm, yet this promotion happens
to few of them ; but for the present subject, the prudence
of business, upon which our lives principally turn, there are
no books extant about it, except a few civil admonitions,
collected into a little volume or two, by no means adequate
to the copiousness of the subject. But if books were written
upon this subject as upon others, we doubt not that learned
men, furnished with tolerable experience, would far excel the
unlearned, furnished with much greater experience, and out-
shoot them in their own bow.

Nor need we apprehend that the matter of this science is
too various to fall under precept, for it is much less extensive
than the doctrine of government, which yet we find very
well cultivated. There seem to have been some professors
of this kind of prudence among the Romans in their best
days ; for Cicero declares it was the custom, a little before
his time, among the senators most famous for knowledge and
experience, as Coruncanius, Curius, Lrclius, &c., tojvvalk the
forum at certain hours, where they offered themselves to be
consulted by the people, not so much upon law, but upon
business of all kinds ; as the marriage of a daughter, the
education of a son, the purchasing of an estate, and other
occasions of common life.a Whence it appears, that there is
a certain prudence of advising even in private affairs, and
derivable from an universal knowledge of civil business,
experience, and general observation of similar cases. So we
find the book which Q. Cicero wrote to his brother, De
Consulatus (the only treatise, so far as we
» Oral, § uir 33,

300 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V11I.

extant upon any particular business), though it regarded
chiefly the giving advice upon that present occasion, yet
contains many particular axioms of politics, which were not
only of temporary use, but prescribe a certain permanent
rule for popular elections. But in this kind, there is nothing
any way comparable to the aphorisms of Solomon, of whom
the Scripture bears testimony, that " his heart was as the
sand of the sea."b For the sand of the sea encompasses the
extremities of the whole earth ; so his wisdom comprehended
all things, both human and divine. And in those aphorisms
are found many excellent civil precepts and admonitions, be
sides things of a more theological nature, flowing from the
depth and innermost bosom of wisdom, and running out into
a most spacious field of variety. And as we place the doc
trine of various occasions among the desiderata of the sciences,
we will here dwell upon it a little, and lay down an example
thereof, in the way of explaining some of these aphorisms or
proverbs of Solomon.

A SPECIMEN OP THE DOCTRINE OF VARIOUS OCCASIONS IN THE COMMON
BUSINESS OF LIFE, BY WAY OF APHORISM AND EXPLANATION.

APHORISM I. — A soft answer appeases w>ger.c
If the anger of a prince or superior be kindled against
you, and it be now your turn to speak, Solomon directs,
1. that an answer be made ; and 2. that it be soft. The first
rule contains three precepts; viz., 1. to guard against a
melancholy and stubborn silence, for this either turns the
fault wholly upon you, as if you could make no answer, or
secretly impeaches your superior, as if his ears were not open
to a just defence. 2. To beware of delaying the thing, and
requiring a longer day for your defence ; which either accuses
your superior of passion, or signifies that you are preparing
some artificial turn or colour. So that it is always best
directly to say something for the present, in your own excuse,
as the occasion requires. And 3. To make a real answer, an
answer, not a mere confession or bare submission, but a mix
ture of apology and excuse. For it is unsafe to do otherwise,
unless with very generous and noble spirits, which are ex
tremely rare. Then follows the second rule, that the answer
be mild and soft, not stiff and irritating.

* 3 Kings iv. 27- c Prov. jv, 1,

CHAP, tl.1 WISE CONDUCT EXEMPLIFIED. 301

II. — A prudent servant shall rule over a Joolish son, and divide ths
inheritance among the brethren.*

In every jarring family there constantly rises up some
Servant or humble friend of sway, who takes upon him to
compose their differences at his own discretion ; to whom, for
that reason, the whole family, even the master himself, is
subject. If this man has a view to his own ends, he foments
and aggravates the differences of the family ; but if he prove
just and upright, he is certainly very deserving. So that he
may be reckoned even as one of the brethren, or at least have
the direction of the inheritance in trust.

III. — // a wise, man contends with a jool, 'whether he be in anger or in
jest, there is no quiet. e

We are frequently admonished to avoid unequal conflicts ;
that is, not to strive with the stronger : but the admonition
of Solomon is no less useful, that we should not strive with
the worthless ; for here the match is very unequal, where it
is no victory to conquer, and a great disgrace to be conquered.
Nor does it signify if, in such a conquest, we should some
times deal as in jest, and sometimes in the way of disdain
and contempt ; for what course soever we take, we are losers,
and can never come handsomely off. But the worst case of
all is, if our antagonist have something of the fool in him,
that is, if he be confident and headstrong.

IV. — Listen not to all that is spoken, lest thou shouldst hear thy servant
curse thee.f

It is scarce credible what uneasiness is created in life by
an useless curiosity about the things that concern us ; as
when we pry into such secrets, as being discovered, give us
distaste, but afford no assistance or relief. For, 1. there
follows vexation and disquiet of mind, as all human things
are full of perfidiousness and ingratitude. So that though
we could procure some magic glass, wherein to view the
animosities, and all that malice which is any way at work
against us, it were better for us to break it directly than to
use it. For these things are but as the rustling of leaves,
soon over. 2. This curiosity always loads the mind with
suspicion, which is a violent enemy to counsels, and renders
them unsteady and perplexed. 3. It also frequently fixes tlio

* Prov. yvii. 2. • Provt xxix. y. f Eccles. vii. 22.

302 AbvANtii-mvl OF LtfAittfitfd. [fiC6R Vltl

evils themselves, which would otherwise have blown over :
for it is a dangerous thing to provoke the consciences of
men, who, so long as they think themselves concealed, are
easily changed for the better ; hut if they once find them
selves discovered, drive out one evil with another. It was
therefore justly esteemed the utmost prudence in Pompcvy
that he directly burnt all the papers of Sertorius, unperused
by him sell or others.

V. — Poverty comes as a traveller, but want as an armed man.*
This aphorism elegantly describes how prodigals, and such
as take no care of their affairs, make shipwreck of their for
tunes. For debt, and diminution of the capital, at first
steals on gradually and almost imperceptibly like a traveller,
but soon after want invades as an armed man ; that is, with
a hand so strong and powerful as can no longer be resisted ;
for it was justly said by the ancients, that necessity is oi all
things the strongest. We must, therefore, prevent the
traveller, and guard against the armed man.

VI. — lie who instructs a scoffer, procures to himself reproach ; and he
who reproves a wicked man, procures to himself a atain.h

This agrees with the precept ot our Saviour, not to throw
pearls before swine.* This aphorism distinguishes betwixt the
actions of precept and reproof, and again betwixt the persons
of the scorner and the wicked, and lastly, the reward is dis
tinguished. In the former case, precept is repaid by a loss
of labour, and in the latter, of reproof, it is repaid with a
stain also. For when any one instructs and teaches a scorner,
he first loses his time ; in the next place, others laugh at his
labour, as fruitless and misapplied; and lastly, the scorner
himself disdains the knowledge delivered. But there is more
danger in reproving a wicked man. who not only lends no ear.
but turns again, and either directly rails at his admonisher,
who has now made himself odious to him ; or, at least, afler-
wards traduces him to others.

VII. — A wise son rejoices his father, but a foolish son is a sorrow to
his mother. k

The domestic joys and griefs of father and mother from
their children are here distinguished ; for a prudent and

« Prov. vi. /.I, and xxiv. 34. h Prov. ix. 7. . • Matt. vii. 6.
« ProT. x. 1.

WISE c&ttinicf fixfiMtLlFiBB. S03

hopeful son 15 a capital pleasure to the father, who knows
the value of virtue better than the mother, and thereiore
rejoices more at his son's disposition to virtue. This joy may
also be heightened, perhaps, from seeing the good effect of
his own management, in the education of his son, so as to
form good morals in him by precept and example. On the
other hand, the mother sutlers and partakes the most in the
calamity of her son, because the maternal affection is the
more soft and tender : and again, perhaps, because she is
conscious that her indulgence has spoiled and depraved
him.

VIII. — The memory of the just is blessed, but the name oj the wicked
shall rot.1

"We have here that distinction between the character of
good and evil men, which usually takes place after death.
For in the case of good men, when envy, that pursues them
whilst alive, is extinguished, their name presently flourishes.
and their fame increases every day. But the fame of bad
men, though it may remain for a while, through the favour
of friends and faction, yet soon becomes odious, and at length
degenerates into infamy, and ends, as it were, in a loathsome
odour.

IX. — lie who troubles his own house, shall inherit the irind.™

This is a very useful admonition, as to domestic jars and
differences. For many promise themselves great matters
from the separation of their wives, the disinheriting of their
children, the frequent changing of servants, <fec., as if they
t.'.hould thence procure greater peace of mind, or a more suc
cessful administration of their affairs ; but such hopes com
monly turn to wind ; these changes being seldom for tho
letter. And such disturbers of their families often meet
with various crosses and ingratitude, from those they after
wards adopt and choose. They, by this means, also bring ill
reports, and ambiguous rumours upon themselves. For as
Cicero well observes, " All men's characters proceed from
their domestics."11 And both these mischiefs Solomon ele
gantly expresses by the " possession of the wind :" for the
frustration of expectation, and the raising of rumours, are
justly compared to the \vinds.

• Prov. x. 7. " Prov. xi. 29. • Petit. Consulates, § 5.

504 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNTNGL

X. — The end cf a discourse is better than the beginning.9
This aphorism corrects a common error, prevailing not
only among such as principally study words, but also the
more prudent ; viz., that men are more solicitous about the
beginnings and entrances of their discourses than about the
conclusions, and more exactly labour their prefaces and in
troductions than their closes. Whereas they ought not to
neglect the former, but should have the latter, as bein:*
things of far the greater consequence, ready prepared before
hand ; casting about with themselves, as much as possible,
what may be the last issue of the discourse, and how business
may be thence forwarded and ripened. They ought further,
not only to consider the windings up of discourses relating
to business, but to regard also such turns as may be advan
tageously and gracefully given upon departure, even thougl
they should be quite foreign to the matter in hand. It was
the constant practice of two great and prudent privy-coun
sellors, on whom the weight of the kingdom chiefly rested,
as often as they discoursed with their princes upon matters oi
state, never to end the conversation with what regarded the
principal subject ; but always to go off with a jest, or some
pleasant device ; and as the proverb runs, " Washing ofl
their salt-water discourses with fresh at the conclusion."
And this was one of the principal arts they had.

XI. — As dead flics cause the best ointment to yield an ill odour, so does a
little folly to a man in reputation for wisdom and honour.?

The condition of men eminent for virtue is, as this apho
rism excellently observes, exceeding hard and miserable ;
because their errors, though ever so small, are not overlooked.
But as in a clear diamond, every little grain, or speck, strikes
the eye disagreeably, though it would not be observed inaduller
stone ; so in men of eminent virtue, their smallest vices are
readily spied, talked of, and severely censured ; whilst in an
ordinary man, they would either have lain concealed, or been
?asily excused. Whence a little folly in a very wise man, a
dmall slip in a very good man, and a little indecency in a
polite and elegant man, greatly diminish their characters
und reputations. It might, therefore, be no bad policy, for
men of uncommon excellencies to intermix with their actioua

' Eceles vii. 9, * Eccles. x. 1.

CHAP. II.] WISE CONDUCT EXEMPLIFIED. 305

a few absurdities, that may be committed without vice, in
order to reserve a liberty, and confound the observation of
little defects.

XII. — Scornful men ensnare a city, but wise men prevent calamity.*
It may seem strange, that in the description of men,
formed, as it were, by nature, for the destruction of states,
Solomon should choose the character, not of a proud and
haughty, not of a tyrannical and cruel, not of a rash and
violent, not of a seditious and turbulent, not of a ioolish or
incapable man, but the character of a scorn er. Yet this
choice is becoming the wisdom ol that king, who well knew
how governments were subverted, and how preserved. For
there is scarce such another destructive thing to kingdoms,
and commonwealths, as that the counsellors, or senators, who
sit at the helm, should be naturally scorners ; who, to show
themselves courageous advisers, are always extenuating the
greatness oi dangers, insulting, as iearful wretches, those
who weigh them as they ought, and ridiculing the ripening
delays of counsel and debate, as tedious matters of oratory,
unserviceable to the general issue of business. They de
spise rumours as the breath of the nibble, and things
that will soon pass over, though the counsels of princes are
to be chiefly directed from hence. They account the power
and authority of laws but nets unfit to hold great matters.
They reject, as dreams and melancholy notions, those
counsels and precautions that regard tuturity at a distance.
They satirize and banter such men as are really prudent
and knowing in affairs, or such as bear noble minds, and
are capable of advising. In short, they sap all the foun
dations of political government at once — a thing which de
serves the greater attention, as it is not eflected by open
attack, but by secret undermining ; nor is it, by any means,
so much suspected among mankind as it deserves.

XIII. — The prince who willingly hearkens to lies, has all his servantt
wicked.*

When a prince is injudiciously disposed to lend a credu
lous ear to whisperers and flatterers, pestilent breath seems
to proceed from him, corrupting and infecting all his ser
vants ; and now some search into his fears, and increase
i Prov. xxii, & r PI-JV. xyix. 12

2 *

306 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VIIL

them with fictitious rumours ; Borne raise up in him the
fury of envy, especially against the most deserving ; some,
by accusing of others, wash their own stains away ; some
make room for the preferment and gratification of their
friends, by calumniating and traducing their competitors, &c.
And these agents are naturally the most vicious servants of
the prince. Those again, of better principles and dispositions,
after finding little security in their innocence, their master
not knowing how to distinguish truth from falsehood, drop
their moral honesty, go into the eddy winds of the court, and
servilely submit to be carried about with them. For as
Tacitus says of Claudius, " There is no safety with that
prince, into whose mind all things are infused and directed." 8
And Comines well observes, that " it is better being servant
to a prince whose suspicions are endless, than whose credulity
is great." l

XIV. — A just man u merciful to the life of his beast, lut the mercies
oft/it wicked are cruel."

Nature has endowed man with a noble and excellent
principle of compassion, Avhich extends itself even to the
brutes, that by divine appointment are made subject to him.
Whence this compassion has some resemblance with that of
a prince towards his subjects. And it is certain, that the
noblest souls are most extensively merciful ; for narrow and
degenerate spirits think compassion belongs not to them, but
a great soul, the noblest part of the creation, is ever com
passionate. Tims under the old law there were numerous
precepts not merely ceremonial, as the ordaining of mercy,
for example, the not eating of flesh with the blood thereof
&c. So, likewise, the sects of the Essenes and Pythagoreans
totally abstained from flesh, as they do also to this day, with
an in violated superstition, in some parts of the empire oi
Mogul. Nay, the Turks, though a cruel and bloody nation,
both in their descent and discipline, give alms to brutes, and
suffer them not to be tortured. But lest this principle might
seem to countenance all kinds of compassion, Solomon
wholesomely subjoins, " That the mercies of the wicked are
cruel ;" that is, when such great offenders are spared, as
ought to be cut off with the sword of justice. For this kind

• Anr.als, xii, 3. * M^moires et Chronicles du Quinzieme Sifecle.
* Prov. xii. 1

CHAP. II.] WISE CONDUCT EXEMPLIFIED. 307

of mercy is the greatest of all cruelties, as cruelty affects but
particular persons; whilst impunity lets loose the whole
army of evil doers, and drives them upon the innocent.

XV. — A fool speaJcs all his mind, but a wise man reserves something for
hereafter.*

This aphorism seems principally levelled, not against tho
futility of light persons, who speak what they should con
ccal, nor against the pertness with which they indiscrimi
nately and injudiciously fly out upon men and things, nor
against the talkative humour with which some men disgust
their hearers, but against a more latent failing, viz., a very
imprudent and impolitic management of speech j when a
man in private conversation so directs his discourse as, in a
continued string of words, to deliver all he can say, that any
way relates to the subject, which is a great prejudice to
busin-ess. For, 1. discourse interrupted and infused by parcels,
enters deeper than if it were continued and unbroken ; in
which case the weight of things is not distinctly and particu
larly felt, as having not time to fix themselves ; but one reason
drives out another before it had taken root. 2. Again, no
one is so powerful or happy in eloquence, as at first setting
out to leave the hearer perfectly mute and silent ; but he
will always have something to answer, and perhaps to object
in his turn. And here it happens, that those things which
were to be reserved for confutation, or reply, being now
anticipated, lose their strength and beauty. 3. Lastly, if a
perjon does not utter all his mind at once, but speaks by
starts, first one thing, then another, he will perceive from
the countenance and answer of the person spoken to, how
each particular affects him, and in what sense he takes it ;
and thus be directed more cautiously to suppress or employ
the matter still in reserve.

XVI. — If the displeasure of great men rise up against tJicc, forsaJce not
thy place; for pliant behaviour extenuates great offences.7

This aphorism shows how a person ought to behave, when
he has incurred the displeasure of his prince. The precept
hath two parts, — 1. that the, person quit not his post ; and
2. that he, with diligence and caution, apply to the cure, as

« Frov xxix. 11. r Eccles. n. 4.

308 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [COOK VIII.

of a dangerous disease. For when men see their prince
incensed against them, what through impatience ot disgrace,
fear of renewing their wounds by sight, and partly to let
their prince behold their contrition and humiliation, it is
usual with them to retire from their office or employ, and
sometimes to resign their places and dignities into their
prince's hands. But Solomon disapproves this method as
pernicious. For, 1. it publishes the disgrace too much ;
whence both our enemies and enviers are more emboldened
to hurt us, and our friends the more intimidated from lend
ing their assistance. 2. By this means the anger of the
prince, which perhaps would have blown over of itself, had
it not been made public, becomes more fixed ; and having
now begun to displace the person, ends not but in his down
fall. 3. This resigning carries something ol ill-will with it,
and shows a dislike of the times, which adds the evil of
indignation to that of suspicion. The following remedies
regard the cure : 1. Let him above all things beware how by
any insensibility, or elation of mind, he seems regardless of
his prince's displeasure, or not affected as he ought. He
should not compose his countenance to a stubborn melan
choly, but to a grave and decent dejection ; and show him
self, in all his actions, less brisk and cheerful than usual. It
may also be for his advantage to use the assistance and medi
ation oi a friend with the prince, seasonably to insinuate,
with how great a sense of griet the person in disgrace is
inwardly affected. 2. Let him carefully avoid even the least
occasions ol reviving the thing which caused the displeasure ;
or of giving any handle to fresh distaste, and open rebuke.
3. Let him diligently seek all occasions wherein his service
may be acceptable to his prince, that he may both show a
ready desire of retrieving his past offence, and his prince
perceive what a servant he must lose if he quit him. 4.
Either let him prudently transfer the blame upon others, or
insinuate that the offence was committed with no ill design,
or show that their malice, who accused him to the prince,
aggravated the thing above measure. 5. Lastly, let him in
every respect be watchful and intent upon the cure.

li.] WISE cofrbter iiifcMttJFifib. 309

XVII. — The first in his own cause if just ; then comes the other party,
and inquires into him.1

The first information in any cause, if it dwell a little with
the judge, takes root, tinges, and possesses him so, as hardly
to be removed again, unless some manifest falsity be found in
the matter itself, or some artifice be discovered in delivering
it. For a naked and simple defence, though just and pre
valent, can scarce balance the prejudice of a prior informa
tion, or of itself reduce to an equilibrium the scale of justice
that has once inclined. It is, therefore, safest for the judge
to hear nothing as to the merits of a cause, before both
parties are convened ; and best for the defendant, if he per
ceive the judge prepossessed, to endeavour, as far as ever the
case will allow, principally to detect some artifice, or trick,
made use oi by the plaintiff to abuse the judge.

XVIII. — He who brings up his servant delicately, shall find him stubborn
in the end.*

Princes and masters are, by the advice of Solomon, to
observe moderation in conferring grace and favour upon their
servants. This moderation consists in three things. 1. In
promoting them gradually, not by sudden starts. 2. In
accustoming them sometimes to denial. And 3. as is well
observed by Machiavel, in letting them always have some
thing further to hope for. And unless these particulars be
observed, princes, in the end, will doubtless find from their
servants disrespect and obstinacy, instead of gratitude and
duty. For from sudden promotion arises insolence ; from a
perpetual obtaining one's desires, impatience of denial ; and
if there be nothing further to wish, there's an end of alacrity
and industry.

XIX. — A man diligent in his business shall stand before kings, and not
be ranked among the vulgar *

Of all the virtues which kings chiefly regard and require
in the choice of servants, that of expedition and resolution
in the despatch of business is the most acceptable. Men of

1 Prov. xvii. 17; but the sense is different. a Prov. xxix. 21.

b Prov. xxii. 29. Franklin cited this aphorism as exemplified in his
person. He was caressed by Louis XVI., feared by George III., and
lived on terms of easy friendship with the heads of other powers who
had combined against England His pre-eminence he attributed
tntirely to his industry. Ed.

310 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [fcOOK Vllt

depth are held suspected by princes, as inspecting them too
close, and being able by their strength of capacity, as by a
machine, to turn and wind them against their will and with
out their knowledge. Popular men are hated, as standing in
the light of kings, and drawing the eyes of the multitude
upon themselves. Men of courage are generally esteemed
turbulent and too enterprising. Honest and just men are
accounted morose, and not compilable enough to the will of
their masters. Lastly, there is no virtue but has its shade,
wherewith the minds of kings are offended; but despatch
alone in executing their commands has nothing displeasing
to them. Besides, the motions of the minds of kings are
swift and impatient of delay ; for they think themselves able
to effect anything, and imagine that nothing more is wanting
but to have it done instantly. Whence despatch is to them
the most grateful of all things.

XX. — I saw all the living which walk under the sun, with the succeeding
young prince that shall rise up in his stead. *

This aphorism points out the vanity of those who flock
about the next successors of princes. The root of this is the
folly naturally implanted in the minds of men ; viz. their
being too fond of their own hopes : for scarce any one but
is more delighted with hope than with enjoyment. Again,
novelty is pleasing and greedily coveted by human nature ;
and those two things, hope and novelty, meet in the successor
of a prince. The aphorism hints the same that was formerly
said by Pompey to Sylla, and again by Tiberius of Macro,
that the sun has more adorers rising than setting.*1 Yet
rulers in possession are not much affected with this, or esteem
it any great matter, as neither Sylla nor Tiberius did ; but
rather laugh at the levity of men, and encounter not with
dreams ; for hope, as was well said, is but a waking dream.6

XXI. — There was a little city manned lut by a few, and a mighty Icing
drew his army to it, erecting bulwarks against it, and intrenched it
round: now there was found within the wa/ls a poor wise man, and he
by his wisdom delivered the city; but none remembered the same poor
man.*

This parable describes the corrupt and malevolent nature
of men, who, in extremities and difficulties, generally fly to

c Eccles. iv. 15. Solomon, in his old age, seeing all his courtiers desert
him to pay court to his son Kehoboam, uttered this sentiment. Ed.
d Tacit. Amiala, vi. e Eccles. xiii. 18. ' Eccles. ix. 14.

CHAP, tt.j WISE CONDUCT EXEMPLIFIED. 311

the prudent and the courageous, though they )efcrt*e despised
them ; and as soon as the storm it? over, they show ingratitude
to their preservers. Machiavel had reason to put the ques
tion, " Which is the more ungrateful towards the well-
deserving, the prince or the people ]" though he accuses both
of ingratitude.^ The thing does not proceed wholly from the
ingratitude either of princes or people, but it is generally
attended with the envy of the nobility, who secretly repine
at the event, though happy and prosperous, because it was
not procured by themselves. Whence they lessen the merit
of the author and bear him down.

XXII. — TJie way of the slotJtful is a hedge of thorns.^
This aphorism elegantly shows that sloth is laborious in
the end : for diligent and cautious preparation guards the
foot from stumbling, and smooths the way before it is trod ;
but he who is sluggish, and defers all things to the last
moment, must of necessity be at every step treading as upon
brambles and thorns, which frequently detain and hinder
him ; and the same may be observed in the government of a
family, where, if due care and forethought be used, all things
go on calmly, and, as it were, spontaneously, without noise
and bustle ; but if this caution be neglected, when any
great occasion arises, numerous matters crowd in to be done
at once, the servants are in confusion, and the house rings.

XXIII. — He who respects persons in judgment does ill, and will forsake
t/te truth for a piece of bread.'1

This aphorism wisely observes, that facility of temper is
more pernicious in a judge than bribery ; for bribes are not
offered by all, but there is no cause wherein something may
not be found to sway the mind of the judge, if he be a
respecter of persons. Thus, one shall be respected for his
country, another for his riches, another for being recom
mended by a friend, <fec. So that iniquity must abound
where respect of persons prevails, and judgment be corrupted
for a very trifling thing, as it were for a morsel of bread.

XXIV. — A poor man, that by extortion oppresses tlie poor, is like a

land-flood that causes famine.*

This parable was anciently painted by the fable of the

leech, full and empty ; for the oppression of a poor anJ

«f Discono sopra Liv. lib. i. h Prov. XT. 10.

1 1'rov. xxviii. 31. -* k Prov-

312 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK Vllf.

hungry wretch ia much more grievous than the oppression of
one who is rich and full ; as he searches into all the corners
and arts ol exactions and ways oi raising contributions. The
thing has been also usually resembled to a sponge, which
sucks strongly when dry, but less when moist. And it con
tains an useful admonition to princes, that they commit not
the government of provinces or places of power to indigent
men, or such as are in debt ; and again to the people, that
they permit not their kings to struggle with want.

XXV. — A just man Jailing before the wicked, it a troubled fountain
and a corrupted spring.1

This is a caution to states, that they should have a capital
regard to the passing an unjust or infamous sentence in any
great and weighty cause, where not only the guilty is
acquitted, but the innocent condemned. To countenance
private injuries, indeed, disturbs and pollutes the clear
streams of justice, as it were, in the brook ; but unjust and
great public sentences, which are afterwards drawn into
precedents, infect and defile the very fountain ot justice.
For when once the court goes on the side of injustice, the
law becomes a public robber, and one man really a wolt to
another.

XXVI. — Contract no friendship with an angry man, nor walk with a
farious one.ul

The more religiously the laws of friendship are to be
observed amongst good men, the more caution should be
used in making a prudent choice of friends. The nature and
humour ot friends, so far as concerns ourselves alone, should
be absolutely tolerated ; but when they lay us under a
necessity, as to the character we should put on towards
others, this becomes an exceeding hard and unreasonable
condition of friendship. It is therefore of great moment to
the peace and security of life, according to the direction ot
Solomon, to have no friendship with passionate men, and
such as easily stir up or enter into debates and quarrels.
For such fiiends will be perpetually entangling us in strifes
and contentions, so that we must either break off with them
or have no regard to our own safety.

1 Prov. xxv. 29 « Prov. xxii. 24.

CHAr. n. J tvisi: CO:»DUUT EXEMPLIFIED. 513

XXVII. — He vho conceals a fault seeks friendship, but he *cho repeats a
matter separates friends.*

There are two ways of composing differences and recon
ciling the minds of men ; the one beginning with oblivion
and forgiveness, the other with a recollection of the injuries,
interweaving it with apologies and excuses. I remember it
is the opinion of a very wise politician, " That he who treats
of peace without repeating the conditions of the difference,
rather deceives the mind with the sweetness of reconciliation
than equitably makes up the matter." But Solomon, a still
wiser man, is of a contrary opinion, and approves of forget
ting, but forbids a repetition of the difference, as being
attended with these inconveniences: 1. That it rakes into the
old sore ; 2. that it may cause a new difference \ 3. and
lastly, that it brings the matter to end in excuses ; whereas
both sides had rather seem to forgive the injury than allow
of an excuse.

XXVIII. — In every good work is plenty ; but where words abownd,
there is commonly a want.0

Solomon here distinguishes the truit of the labour of the
tongue, and that ot the labour 01 the hand, as if from the
one came want, and from the other abundance. For it almost
constantly happens that they who speak much, boast much,
and promise largely, are but barren, and receive no fruit
from the things they talk of; being seldom industrious or
diligent in works, but feed and satisfy themselves with dis
course alone as with wind ; whilst, as the poet intimates, "he
who is conscious to himself that he can really effect," feels
the satisfaction inwardly, and keeps silent :

" Qui silet est firmus:"?

whereas, he who knows he grasps nothing but empty air, is
full of talk and strange stories.

XXIX. — Open reproof is better than secret affection.*

This aphorism reprehends the indulgence of those who use

not the privilege of friendship freely and boldly to admonish

tneir friends as well of their errors as their dangers. "What

thall I do 1 " says an easy, good-natured friend, " or what

n Prov. xvii. 9. ° Prov. xiv. 28.

* Ovid, Remedia Araoris, 697. * Prov. xxvii. 5

314 ADVANCEMENT OF tEAKJfctffl. [800* VI ir

course shall I take ? I love him as well as man can do, and
would willingly suffer any misfortune in his stead : but I
know his nature ; if I deal freely with him, I shall offend
him ; at least chagrin him, and yet do him no service. Nay,
I shall sooner alienate his friendship from me, than win him
over from those things he has fixed his mind upon." Such
an effeminate and useless friend as this Solomon reprehends,
and pronounces that greater advantage may be received from
an open enemy ; as a man may chance to hear those things
from an enemy by way of reproach, which a friend, through
too much indulgence, will not speak out.

XXX. — A prudent man looks well to his steps, but a fool turns aside
to deceit.1

There are two kinds of prudence ; the one true and sound,
the other degenerate and false : the latter Solomon calls by
the name of folly. The candidate for the former has an eye
to his footings, looking out for dangers, contriving remedies,
and by the assistance of good men defending himself against
the bad : he is wary in entering upon business, and not un
provided of a retreat ; watching for opportunities, powerful
against opposition, &c. But the follower of the other is
wholly patched up of fallacy and cunning, placing all his hope
in the circumventing of others, and forming them to his
fancy. And this the aphorism justly rejects as a vicious and
even a weak kind of prudence. For, 1. it is by no means a
thing in our own power, nor depending upon any constant
rule ; but is daily inventing of new stratagems as the old
ones fail and grow useless. 2. He who has once the character
of a crafty, tricking man, is entirely deprived of a principal
instrument of business, — trust; whence he will find nothing
succeed to his wish. 3. Lastly, however specious and pleas
ing these arts may seem, yet they are often frustrated ; as
well observed by Tacitus, when he said, that crafty and bold
counsels, though pleasant in the expectation, are hard to
execute, and unhappy in the event.

XXXI. — Be not over -righteous, nor make thyself over-wise : for why
shouldst thou suddenly be taken off! *

There are times, says Tacitus, wherein great virtues meet
with certain ruin.11 And this happens to men eminent for

' Prov. xv. 21. • Eccles. viL ". 7. * Hist. i. 2.

C&AP. I1.J WISE CONDUCT fcXEMFLmm 315

virtue and justice, sometimes suddenly, and sometime* after
it was long foreseen. But if prudence be also joined, so aa
to make such men cautious and watchful of their own safety,
then they gain thus much, that their ruin shall come suddenly,
and entirely from secret and dark counsels — whence they may
escape envy, and meet destruction unexpected. But for that
over-righteousness expressed in the aphorism, it is not under
stood of virtue itself, in which there is no excess, but of a
vain and invidious affectation and show thereof, like what
Tacitus intimates of Lepidus — making it a kind of miracle
that he never gave any servile opinion, and yet stood safe in
severe times.u

XXXII. — Give occasion to a wise man, and his wisdom will be
increased.*

This aphorism distinguishes between that wisdom which
has grown up and ripened into a true habit, and that which
only floats in the brain, or is tossed upon the tongue without
having taken root. The former, when occasion offers, is pre
sently roused, got ready, and distended, so as to appeal-
greater than itself; whereas the latter, which was pert
before, stands amazed and confounded when occasion calls for
it : so that the person who thought himself endowed with
this wisdom, begins to question whether his preconception*
about it were not mere dreams and empty speculations.

XXXIII. — To pmise one's friend aloud, rising early, has the same effect
as cursing himJ

Moderate and sensible praises, dropped occasionally, are of
great service to the reputation and fortunes of men ; whilst
immoderate, noisy, and fulsome praises do no good, but
rather hurt, as the aphorism expresses it. For, 1. they plainly
betray themselves to proceed from an excess of good will, or
to be purposely designed rather to gain favour with the per
son by false encomiums, than to paint him justly. 2. Sparing
and modest praises generally invite the company somewhat
to improve them, but profuse and immoderate ones to detract
and take off from them. 3. The principal thing is, that
immoderate praises procure envy to the person praised, as all
extravagant commendations seem to reproach others that
may be no less deserving.

• Annals, iv. 20. » Prov. ix. 9, r Prov. xxiy. 14,

316 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [llOOK Vlit

XXXIV.— At the face shines in water, so are men* hearts manifi^t to
the wise.1

This aphorism distinguishes between the minds of prudent
men and those of others, by comparing the former to water,
or a mirror, which receives the forms and images of things ;
whilst the latter are like earth, or unpolished stone, which
reflects nothing. And the mind of a prudent man is the
more aptly compared to a glass, because therein one's own
image may, at the same time, be vi-swed along with those of
others, which could not be done by the eye without assistance :
but if the mind of a prudent man be so capacious as to
observe and distinguish an infinite diversity of natures and
manners in men, it remains that we endeavour to render
it as various in the application as it is in the representation.
" Qui sapit, innumeris moribus aptus erit."*

If we have dwelt too long upon those parables, and used
them for higher purposes than mere illustrations, the dignity
of both author and subject must be our excuse. For thus,
it was not only usual among the Jews, but very common
also among the wise men of other ancient nations, when they
had, by observation, hit upon anything useful in common
life, to reduce and contract it into some short sentence, para
ble, or fable. Fables anciently supplied the defect of exam
ples ; but now that times abound with variety of histories,
it is better and more enlivening to draw from real life. But
the method of writing best suited to so various and intricate
a subject as the different occasions of civil business, is that
which Machiavel chose for treating politics ; viz., by observa
tion or discourse upon histories and examples.b For the
knowledge which is newly drawn, and, as it were, under our
own eye, from particulars, best finds the way to particulars
again. And doubtless it is much more conducive to practice
that the discourse follow the example, than that the example
follow the discourse : and this regards not only the order,
but the thing itself; for when an example is proposed as the
basis of a discourse, it is usually proposed with its whole
apparatus of circumstances, which may sometimes correct and
supply it; whence it becomes as a model for imitation and
practice; whilst examples, produced for the sake of the

• Prov. xxvii. 19. * Ars Amandi, i. 760.

b Discorso sopra Liv.

C1IAI'. II.] WISDOM FOP, ONE'S SELL 317

treatise, are but succinctly and nakedly quoted, and, as
slaves, wholly attend the call of the discourse.

It is worth while to observe this difference, that as the
histories of times afford the best matter for discourses upon
politics, such as those of Machiavel,c so the histories of lives
are most advantageously used for instructions of business,
because they contain all the possible variety of occasions and
affairs, as well great as small. Yet a more commodious foun
dation may be had for the precepts of business than either
of these histories, and that is, the discoursing upon prudent
and serious epistles, such as those of Cicero to Atticus ; for
epistles represent business nearer and more to the life
than either annals or lives. And thus we have treated of
the matter and form of the first part of the doctrine of
business, which regards variety of occasions, and place it
among the desiderata.

There is another part of the doctrine of business differing
as much from the former as the being wise in general,
and the being wise for one's self; — the one seems to move as
from the centre to the circumference, and the other as from
the circumference to the centre. For there is a certain pru
dence of giving counsel to others, and another of looking to
one's own affairs. Both these, indeed, are sometimes found
united, but oftenest separate; as many are prudent in the
management of their own private concerns, and weak in
public administration, or the giving advice, like the a.nt,
which is a wise creature for itself, but pernicious in a garden.
This virtue of self-wisdom was not unknown even to the
Romans, those great lovers of their country; whence, says
the comedian, " the wise man forms his own fortune,"—

" Nam pol sapiens fingit fortunam sibi ;"d

and they had it proverbial amongst them, — " Every man's
fortune lies in his own hand," — " Faber quisque ibrtunae pro-
prise." So Livy gives this character of the elder Cato : " Such
was his force of mind and genius, that wherever he had
been born he seemed formed for making his own fortune."0

But if any one publicly professed or made open show of

c Especially his II Principe, with the notes of Conringius, which was
found in the carriage of Napoleon after the battle of Moat St. Jean,
jvith the annotations of the emperor. Ed.

<• Plautus, Trinum. Act ii. w% 2, v. £4, • Livy, xxxix. 40.

318 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [COOK VIIL

this kind of prudence, it was always accounted not only
impolitic, but ominous and unfortunate, as was observed
of Timotheus the Athenian, who, after having performed
many great exploits for the honour and advantage of
his country, and giving an account of his conduct to tho
people, as the manner then was, he concluded the several
particulars thus: "And here fortune had no share ;"f after
which time nothing ever succeeded in his hands. This was,
indeed, too arrogant and haughty, like that of Pharaoh in
Ezekiel, " Thou sayest, The river is mine, and I made my
self ;"8 or that of Habakkuk, "They rejoice, and sacrifice
to their net;"h or, again, that of Mezentius, who called his
hand and javelin his god;

" Dextra mihi deus, et telum, quod missile libro,
Nunc adsint ;"»

or, lastly, that of Julius Caesar, the only time that we find
him betraying his inward sentiments; for when the Aruspex
related to him that the entrails were not prosperous, he
muttered softly, " They shall be better when I please," which
was said not long before his unfortunate death.k And, indeed,
this excessive confidence, as it is a profane thing, so it is
always unhappy; whence great and truly wise men think
proper to attribute all their successes to their felicity, and
not to their virtue and industry. So Sylla styled himself
happy, not great; and Caesar, at another time, more ad
visedly said to the pilot, " Thou earnest Caesar and his for
tune."'1

But these expressions, — " Every one's fortune is in his
own hand," " A wise man shall control the stars," " Every
way is passable to virtue," &c., — if understood, and used
rather as spurs to industry than as stirrups to insolence, and
rather to beget in men a constancy and firmness of resolu
tion than arrogance and ostentation, they are deservedly
esteemed sound and wholesome ; and hence, doubtless, it is
that they find reception in the breasts of great men, and make

' Plut. Sylla. « Ezek. xxix. 3. h Habak. i. 15.

1 ^neid, x. 773. k Suetonius.

1 Plutarch. Compare with this a curious letter from Cato to Cicero
(ap. Cic. ad Fam. xv. 5), wherein he says, " Supplicationem decretam, si
tu, qua in re nihil iortuito, sed summa tua ratione et continentia reipub-
licae, provisum est diis immortal ibus gratulari nos quani tibj reierra
fccceptum mavis gau ieo."

CHAP. II. j ART OF RISING IN LIFE. 319

it sometimes difficult for them to dissemble their thoughts;
BO we find Augustus Caesar, who was rather different from
than inferior to his uncle, though doubtless a more moderate
man, required his friends, as they stood about his death
bed, to give him their applause at his exit,m as if conscious to
himself that he had acted his part well upon the stage of
life. And this part of doctrine also is to be reckoned as
deficient, not but that it has been much used and beaten in
practice, though not taken notice of in books. Wherefore,
according to our custom, we shall here set down some heads
upon the subject, under the title of the Self-politician, or the
Art of rising in Life.

It may seem a new and odd kind of thing to teach men
how to make their fortunes, — a doctrine which every one
would gladly learn before he finds the difficulties of it ; for
the things required to procure fortune are not fewer or less
difficult than those to procure virtue. It is as rigid and
hard a thing to become a true politician as a true moralist,
yet the treating of this subject nearly concerns the merit
and credit of learning. It is of great importance to the
honour of learning, that men of business should know eru
dition is not like a lark, which flies high and delights in
nothing but singing, but that it is rather like a hawk, which
soars aloft indeed, but can stoop when she finds it convenient
to pounce upon her prey. Again, this also regards the per
fection of learning ; for the true rule of a perfect inquiry is,
that nothing can be found in the material globe which has not
its correspondent in the crystalline globe — the understanding,
or that there is nothing found in practice which has not its
particular doctrine and theory. But learning esteems the
building of a private fortune as a work of an inferior kind ;
for no man's private fortune can be an end any way worthy
of hie existence; nay, it frequently happens that men of
eminent virtues renounce their fortune to pursue the things
of a sublimer nature. Yet even private fortune, as it is the
instrument of virtue and doing good, is a particular doctrine,
worthy of consideration.

This doctrine has its precepts, some whereof are summary
or collective, and others scattered and various. The collective
precepts are fourclec} in a just knowledge, — 1. of ourselves;
*• Suetoniua.

320 ADVANCEMENT CF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII

and, 2. of others. Let this, therefore, be the first whereon
the knowledge of the rest principally turns, that we procure
to ourselves, as far as possible, the window once required
by Momus, who, seeing so many corners and recesses in tho
structure of the human heart, found fault that it should warm
a window, through which those dark and crooked turnings
might be viewed.11 This window may be procured by dili
gently informing ourselves of the particular persons we have
to deal with, — their tempers, desires, views, customs, habits :
the assistances, helps, and assurances whereon they principally
rely, and whence they receive their power; their delects and
weaknesses, whereat they chiefly lie open and are accessible ;
their friends, factions, patrons, dependants, enemies, enviers,
rivals; their times and manner of access, —

" Sola viri molles aditus et tempora noras;"0

their principles, and the rules they prescribe themselves, etc.
But our information should not wholly rest in the persons,
but also extend to the particular actions, which from time
to time come upon the anvil ; how they are conducted, with
what success, by whose assistance promoted, by whom op
posed, of what weight and moment they are, and what their
consequences. For a knowledge of present actions is not
only very advantageous in itself, but without it the know
ledge of persons will be very fallacious and uncertain ; for
men change along with their actions, and are one thing
whilst entangled and surrounded with business, and another
when they return to themselves. And these particular in
formations, with regard to persons as well as actions, are
like the minor propositions in every active syllogism ; tor no
truth, nor excellence of observations or axioms, whence the
major political propositions are formed, can give a firm con
clusion, if there be an error in the minor proposition. And
that such a kind of knowledge is procurable, Solomon assures
us, who says, that " counsel in the heart of man is like a
deep water, but a wise man will draw it out;"? for although
the knowledge itself does not fall under precept, because it
regards individuals, yet instructions may be given of use lor
{etching it out.

* Plato. Reip. ; Lucan, Hermot. ix. ; and Eras. Chil. i. 74.
0 yKneid, iv. 423. f frov. xx. 5,

ClIAl'. II. j HOW TO DISCERN CHARACTER. 321

Men may be known six different ways ; viz., — 1. by their
countenances; 2. their words; 3. their actions; 4. their
tempers ; 5. their ends ; and, 6. by the relation of others.
1. As to the countenance, there is no great matter in that
old proverb, "Fronti nulla fides ;"l for although this maybe
said with some truth of the external and general composure
of the countenance and gesture, yet there lie concealed cer
tain more subtile motions and actions of the eyes, face, looks,
and behaviour, by which the gate, as it were, of the mind is
unlocked and thrown open.r Who was more close than Tibe
rius 1 yet Tacitus observes a difference between his inward
thoughts and his language in eulogizing the exploits of
Drusus and Germanicus, — thus characterizing his panegyric
of the latter : "Magisin specieinverbis adorn atis quam ut peni-
tus sentire crederetur;" and then that of Drusus, — " Pau-
cioribus sed intentior, et fida oratione."8 Again, Tacitus
sketches the manner of the emperor on other occasions when
he was less crafty, and sums up his remarks thus : " Quin
ipse compositus alias atque velut eluctantium verborum ; so-
lutius promptiusque loquebatur quoties subveniret."fc And
indeed, it is hard to find so great and masterly a dissembler,
or a countenance so well broke and commanded, as to carrj
on an artful and counterfeit discourse without some way 01
other betraying it.

2. The words of men are full of deceit ; but this is well
detected in two ways ; viz., either when words are spoken on
the sudden, or in passion. So Tiberius, being suddenly sur
prised and hurried beyond himself, with a stinging speech
from Agrippina, went a step out of his natural dissimula
tion; for, says Tacitus, she thus drew an uncommon expres
sion from his secret breast, and he rebuked her as being
offended because she did not rule.u Whence the poet not
unjustly calls these perturbations tortures, mankind being
compelled by them to betray their own secrets.
" Vino tortus et ira."*

i Martial, i. Ep. 25, v. 4. * Cicero, Petit. Consulatus, § 2.

• Annals, i. 52. * Annals, iv. 31. tt Annals, iv. 52.

x Hor. Ep. ii. 18, v. 88. It must be remembered that Augustus
had some intention pf conferring the empire upon Uer husbatd Oer-
m.imcus.— £#,

y

322 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAttNIXO. [r,OOIv VIII.

And experience shows that there are very few so true to
their own secrets, and of so close a temper, as not sometimes,
through anger, ostentation,: love to a friend, impotence of
mind, or some other affection, to reveal their own thoughts.
But nothing searches all the corners of the mind so much as
dissimulation practised against dissimulation, according to
the Spanish proverb, " Tell a lie and find a truth.*'

3. Even facts themselves, though the surest pledges of the
human mind, are not altogether to be trusted, unless first
attentively viewed and considered as to their magnitude and
propriety ; for it is certain that deceit gets itself a credit in
small things, that it may practise to more advantage in
larger. And the Italian thinks himself upon the cross with
the crier, or put up to sale, when, without manifest cause, he
is treated better than usual; for small favours lull mankind,
and disarm them both of caution and industry; whence they
are properly called by Demosthenes the baits of sloth.
Again, we may clearly see the crafty and ambiguous nature
of some actions which pass for benefits, from that trick
practised by Mucianus upon Antony ; for after a pretended
reconciliation he most treacherously advanced many of An
tony's friends to lieutenancies, tribuneships, &c., and by this
cunning entirely disarmed and defeated him ; thus winning
over Antony's friends to himself?

But the surest key for unlocking the minds of others turns
upon searching and sifting either their tempers and natures,
or their ends and designs j and the more weak and simple
are best judged by their temper, but the more prudent and
close by their designs. It was prudently and wittily, though
in my judgment not substantially, advised by the pope's
nuncio as to the choice of another to succeed him in his resi-
ience at a foreign court, that they should by no means send
one remarkably but rather tolerably wise ; because a man
wiser than ordinary could never imagine what the people of
that nation were likely to do. It is doubtless a common
error, particularly in prudent men, to measure others by
the model of their own capacity; whence they frequently
overshoot the mark, by supposing that men project and form
greater things to themselves, and practise more subtile arts

r Tacit Hint. IT

CHAP. II.] HOW TO DISCERN CHARACTER. 323

than ever entered their minds. This is elegantly intimated
by the Italian proverb, —

" Di denari, di senno, e di fede,
C' ne manco che non crede ;"*

and therefore, in men of small capacities, who commit many
absurdities, a conjecture must rather be formed fVom the
propensity of their nature than from their ends in view.
Whence princes also, though for a quite different reason, are
best judged by their tempers as private persons are by their
ends; for princes, who are at the top of human desires, have
seldom any ends to aspire after with ardour and perseve
rance, by the situation and distance whereof a direction and
measure might be taken of their other actions. And this
among others is a principal reason why their hearts, as the
Scripture declares, are unsearchable. a But every private
man is like a traveller, who proceeds intently to the end of
his journey, where he sets up : hence one may tolerably
conjecture what a private man will or will not do; for it a
thing be conducive to his ends, it is probable he will do it ;
and vice versa. And this information, from the diversity of
the ends and natures of men, may be taken comparatively as
well as simply, so as to discover what humour or disposition
overrules the rest. Thus Tigellinus, when he found himself
outdone by Turpilianus, in administering and suggesting to
Nero's pleasures, searched, as Tacitus says, into the fears of
Nero, and by this means got rid of his rival.b

As for that second-hand knowledge of men's minds which
is had from the relation of others, it will be sufficient to
observe of it, that defects and vices are best learned from
enemies, virtues and abilities from, friends, manners ani
times from servants, and opinions and thoughts from inti
mate acquaintance; for popular fame is light, and the judg
ment of superiors uncertain, before whom men walk more
masked and secret. The truest character comes from do
mestics, — Ci Verier fama e domesticis emanat."c

1 "There is always less money, less wisdom, and less honesty, than
people imagine." a Prov. xxv. 3.

b This expression occurs Tacit. Annal. xiv. 57. It is spoken, how
ever, of the intrigues of Tigellinus against Plautus and Sulla, by. which
he induced Nero to have both of them murdered. Petronius Turpilianua
was put to death by Galba, because he had enjoyed Nero's confidence,
Annal. xvi. 13, 19, « Cicero, Petit. Consul.

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII.

But the shortest way to this whole inquiry rests upon
three particulars ; viz., — 1. In procuring numerous friend
ships with such as have an extensive and general knowledge
both of men and things, or at least in securing a set of par
ticular friends, who, according to the di versity of occasions,
may be always ready to give a solid information upon any
point that shall turn up. 2. In observing a prudent mean
and moderation between the freedom of discourse and silence,
using frankness of speech most frequently ; but when the
thing requires it, taciturnity ; for openness of speech invites
and excites others to use the same towards ourselves, which
brings many things to our knowledge ; whilst taciturnity
procures trust, and makes men willing to deposit their
secrets with us as in their own bosom. 3. In gradually
acquiring such a habit of watchfulness and intentness in all
discourse and action, as at once to promote the business in
hand, yet take notice of incidental matters ; for, as Epictetus
would have a philooopher say to himself in every action, " I
will do this, yet keep to my rule,"d so a politician should
resolve with himself in every business, " I will drive this
point, and yet learn somewhat of future use." And, there
fore, such tempers as are wholly intent upon a present busi
ness without at all regarding what may intervene, which
Montaigne acknowledges was his own defect, make excellent
ministers of state, but fail in advancing their private for
tunes. A principal caution must also be had to restrain the
impetuosity and too great alacrity of the mind, lest much
knowledge should drive us on to meddle in many matters;
ior nothing is more unfortunate and rash than such a proce
dure. Therefore the variety of knowledge to be here p.x)-
cured of men and things comes but to this, that we make a
judicious choice both of the matters we undertake and of the
persons whose assistance we use, that we may thence know
how to manage and dispose all things with the greater dex
terity and salety.

Next to the knowledge of others comes the knowledge cl
ourselves; and it requires no less diligence, but rather more
to get a true and exact information of ourselves than
others. For that oracle, " Know thyself," is not only a rule
in ijeneral prudence, but has also a principal place in politic*
4 Enchiriiioo, iv.

11. J SELF-KNOWLEDGE KECESSAM.

And St. James excellently observer of mankind, that " he
who views his face in a glass, instantly forgets his features." e
Whence we had need be often looking. And this also holds
in politics. But there is a difference in glasses, — the divine
one, wherein we are to behold ourselves, is the Word of God ;
but the political glass is no other than the state of things
and times wherein we live. A man, therefore, must make a
thorough examination, not partially like a self-lover, into his
own faculties, powers, and abilities, and again into his defects,
inabilities, and obstacles, summing up the account, so as to
make the latter constantly appear greater, and the former
rather less than they are. And upon such an examination
the following particulars may come to be considered.

Let the first particular be, how far a man's manners and
temper suit with the times ; for if they agree in all respects,
he may act more freely and at large, and follow the bent of
his genius ; but if there be any contrariety, then he must walk
more cautiously and covertly in the whole scene of his life,
and appear less in public, as Tiberius did, who, being con
scious that his temper suited not with the age, never fre
quented the public shows, and for the last twelve years of
his life came not to the senate ; whereas Augustus lived con
tinually in open sight.f

Let the second consideration be, how a man can relish the
professions or kinds of life in use and repute, out of which
he is to make a choice, so that if his profession be not already
entered upon, he may take that which is most suitable to his
genius ; but if he be already got into a kind of life for which
he is unfit, that he may, upon the first opportunity, quit it
and take to another,— as Valentine Borgia did, who, being
educated by his father for the priesthood, afterwards re
nounced, followed his own inclination, and appeared in a
military character.

,Let a third consideration be, how a man stands compared
with his equals and rivals, who may also probably be his
competitors in his fortune, and let him hold that course of
life in which there is the greatest want of eminent men, and
wherein it is most likely that himself may rise the highest,

« EI>. i. 23, 24.

f The expression of Tacitu* ia, "alia Tiherio morum via."
I.M.

326 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. > [BOOK VIII,

as Citsar did, who was first an orate r, a pleader, and scarce
anything more than a gownman; but when he lound that
Cicero, Hortensius, and Catullus bore away the prize of
eloquence, and that none had greatly signalized themselves in
war, except Pompey, he quitted the gown, and taking a long
i'arewell of civil power, went over to the arts of the general
and the emperor, whereby he rose to the top pinnacle of
sovereignty.

Let the fourth consideration be, to regard one's own
nature and temper in the choice of friends and dependants;
for different men require different kinds of friends, — some
those that are grave and secret, others such as are bold and
ostentatious, <tc. It is worth observing of what kind the
friends of Julius Caesar were ; viz., Antony, Hirtius, Balbus,
Dolobella, Pollio, &c., who usually swore to die that he might
live )° thereby expressing an infinite affection for Caesar, but
an arrogance and contempt towards everybody else. Anc
they were all men diligent in business, but of no great fame
and reputation.

Let a fifth consideration be, to beware of examples, and
not fondly square one's self to the imitation of others, as if
what was achieved by them must needs be achieved by us,
without considering the difference there may be between
our own disposition and manners compared with theirs we
propose to imitate. Pompey manifestly fell into this error,
who, as Cicero writes of him, had these words often in his
mouth, — " Sylla could do this, why shall not I ?"h In which
particular he greatly imposed upon himself; for Sylla's tem
per and method of acting differed infinitely from his, — the
one's being fierce, violent, and pressing to the end, the other's
composed, mindful of the laws, and directing all to majesty
and reputation ; whence he was greatly curbed and restrained
in executing his designs. And these considerations may
serve as a specimen of the rest.

But it is not enough for a man to know himself; he must
also consider how he may most commodiously and prudently
— 1. show, 2. express, 3. wind and fashion himself. 1. As
for show, we see nothing more frequent in life than for the
less capable man to make the greater figure. It is, therefore,
no small excellence of prudence, by means of a certain act

* Ita vivente Caesare moriar. k Epist. Atticus, ix. Ep. 10.

CHAP. II.] ADVANTAGE OF OSTENTATION. 327

and grace, to represent one's best side to others, by setting
out our own virtues, merits, and fortunes to advantage, which
may be done without arrogance or rendering one's self dis
agreeable ; and on the other side artificially concealing our
vices, defects, misfortunes, and disgraces, dwelling upon the
former, and turning them as it were to the light, but pal
liating the latter, or effacing them by a well-adapted con
struction or interpretation, &c. Hence Tacitus says of Mu-
ciaijitis, the most prudent man of his time and the most
indefatigable in business, that u he had an art of showing the
fair side of whatever he spoke or acted."1 And certainly it
requires some art to prevent this conduct from becoming
fulsome and despicable ; yet ostentation, though to the first
degree of vanity, is a fault in ethics rather than in politics.
For as it is usually said of calumny, that if laid on boldly
some of it will stick, so it may be said of ostentation, unless
perfectly monstrous and ridiculous, " Paint yourself strongly,
and some of it will last." Doubtless it will dwell with the
crowd, though the wiser sort smile at it ; so that the reputa
tion procured with the number will abundantly reward the
contempt of a few. But if this ostentation be managed with
decency and discretion, it may greatly contribute to raise a
man's reputation, as particularly if it carry the appearance
of native candour and ingenuity, or be used at times sur
rounded with dangers, as among the military men in time of
war. Or again, if our own praises are let fall as it were
by accident, and be not too seriously or largely insisted on,
or if any one, in praising himself, at the same time mixes it
with censure and ridicule, or lastly, if he does it not sponta
neously, but is provoked to it by the insolence and reproach
of others. And there are many who, being by nature solid,
and consequently wanting in this art of spreading canvas to
their own honour, find themselves punished for their mo
desty, with some diminution of their dignity.

But however persons of weak judgment or too rigid morals
may disallow this ostentation of virtue, no one will deny that
we should endeavour to keep virtue from being undervalued
through our neglect, and less esteemed than it deserves. This
diminution in the esteem of virtue happens three ways; viz.,
1. When a person presents and thrusts himself and his ser-
1 Hist. ii. 80.

.128 ADtfAtfCEMErfT OP LfcARSnra. [fc:oK VITI.

vice into a business rtnasked ; foi &uch services are thought
sufficiently rewarded by accepting them. 2. When a man
at the beginning of a business over-exerts himself, and per
forms that all at once, which should have been done gra
dually ; though this, indeed, gains early commendation where
affairs succeed ; but in the end it produces satiety. 3. When
a man is too quick and light in receiving the fruit of his
virtue — in praise, applause, and favour, — and pleases himself
therewith ; against which there is this prudent admonition,
" Beware lest thou seem unaccustomed to great things, if
such small ones delight thee."

A diligent concealment of defects is no less important
than a prudent and artful manifestation of virtues. Defects
are principally concealed and covered under three cloaks ;
viz. 1. Caution, 2. Pretext, and 3. Assurance. 1. We call
that caution, when a man prudently keeps from meddling in
matters to which he is unequal ; whilst, on the other hand,
daring and restless spirits are injudiciously busying them
selves in things they are not acquainted with, and thereby
publish and proclaim their own defects. 2. We call that
pretext, when a man with sagacity and prudence paves and
prepares himself a way for securing a favourable and com
modious interpretation of his vices and defects ; as proceeding
from different principles, or having a different tendency than
is generally thought. For as to the concealment of vices,
the poet said well, that vice often skulks in the verge of
virtue.

" Saepe latet vitium proximate boni."J

Therefore, when we find any defect in ourselves, we must
endeavour to borrow the figure and pretext of the neighbour
ing virtue for a shelter; thus the pretext of dulness is gravity ;
that of indolence, considerateness, &c. And it is of service
to give out some probable reason for not exerting our utmost
strength, and so make a necessity appear a virtue. 3. Assur
ance, indeed, is a daring, but a very certain and effectual
remedy, whereby a man professes himself absolutely to slight
and despise those things he could not obtain, like crafty
merchants, who usually raise the price of their own com
modities and sink the price of other men's. Though there
is another kind of assurance, more impudent than this, by
J Ovid, Ars Amand. i. 661.

CHAP. II.] DISSIMULATION SOMETIMES IMPOLITIC. 82?

•which a man brazens out his own defects, and foroes them
upon others for excellencies ; and the better to secure this
end, he will feign a distrust of himself in those things wherein
he really excels : like poets, who, if you except to any par
ticular verse in their composition, will presently tell you that
single line cost them more pains than all the rest ; and then
produce you another, as suspected by themselves, for your
opinion ; whilst, of all the number, they know it to be the
best and least liable to exception. But above all, nothing
conduces more to the well-representing a man's self, and
securing his own right, than not to disarm one's self by too
much sweetness and good-nature, which exposes a man to
injuries and reproaches ; but rather, in all cases, at times, to
dart out some sparks of a free and generous mind, that have
no less of the sting than the honey. This guarded behaviour,
attended with a ready disposition to vindicate themselves,
some men have from accident and necessity, by means of
somewhat inherent in their person or fortune, as we find in
the deformed, illegitimate, and disgraced ; who, if they do
not want virtue, generally prove fortunate.

The expressing or declaring of a man's self is a very
different thing from the showing himself, as not relating to
virtue, but to the particular actions of life. And here no
thing is more politic than to preserve a prudent or sound
moderation or medium in disclosing or concealing one's mind
as to particular actions. For though profound silence, the
hiding of counsels, and managing all things by blind and
deaf artifice, is an useful and extraordinary thing ; yet it
often happens that dissimulation produces errors which
prove snares. And we see that the men of greatest repute
for politics, scruple not openly and generously to declare
their ends without dissimulation : thus Sylla openly declared,
" He wished all mortals happy or unhappy, as they were his
friends or enemies." k So Caesar, upon his first expedition into
Gaul, professed "he had rather be the first man in an obscure
village, than the second at Rome."1 And when the war was
begun, he proved no dissembler, if Cicero says truly of him,
" That he did not refuse, but in a manner required to be
called tyrant, as he was."™ So we find, in an epistle of
Cicero to Atticus, how little of a dissembler Augustus was,

k Pltrt. ' Plut. • Epist. ad Alt. x. Ep. i*.

330 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VI1L

who, at his first entrance upon affairs, whilst he remained the
delight of the senate, used to swear in this form when he
harangued the people : " Ita Parentis honores consequi
liceat : " " which was no less than tyranny itself. It is true,
to salve the matter a little, he would at those times stretch
his hand towards the statue of Julius Caesar erected in
the place, whilst i/he audience smiled, applauded, admired,
and cried out among themselves, " What does the youth
mean1?" but never suspected him ot any ill design, who
thus candidly and ingenuously spoke his mind.0 And yet all
these we have named were prosperous men. Pompey, on the
other hand, who endeavoured at the same ends by more dark
and concealed methods,? wholly bent himself, by numberless
stratagems, to cover his desires and ambition, whilst he
brought the state to confusion, that it might then of necessity
submit to him, and he thus procure the sovereignty to appear
ance against his will. And when he thought he had gained
his point, as being made sole consul, which no one ever was
before him, he found himself never the nearer, because those
who would doubtless have assisted him, understood not his
intentions ; so that at length he was obliged to go in the
beaten path, and under pretence of opposing Caesar, procured
himself arms and an army : so slow, casual, and generally
unsuccessful, are the counsels covered with dissimulation !
And Tacitus seems to have had the same sentiment, when he
makes the artifice of dissimulation an inferior prudence,
compared with policy, attributing the former to Tiberius, and
the latter to Augustus ; for speaking of Li via, he says, "She
was well tempered with the arts of her husband, and the
dissimulation of her son." 1

As for the bending and forming of the mind, we should
doubtless do our utmost to render it pliable, and by no
means stiff and refractory to occasions and opportunitj.es ;
for to continue the same men, when we ought not, is the
greatest obstacle business can meet with ; that is, if men
remain as they did, and follow their own nature after the
opportunities are changed.1 Whence Livy, introducing the
elder Cato as a skilful architect of his own fortune, add-.

n P,. xvi. Ep. 15. ° Ore probo, animo inverecundo. Sallust.

* Occuitior, non melior. Tacit. Hist. ii. c. 38.

* Annals, v. 1. * Cic. in Brut, speaking of Hortensius, o. 9fii

CHAP. II.] PRECEPTS FOR RISING IN LIFE. 33l

that "he was of a pliant temper:"9 and hence it is. that
grave, solemn, and unchangeable natures generally meet with
more respect than felicity. This defect some men have im
planted in them by nature, as being in themselves stiff,
knotty, and unfit for bending ; but in others it is acquired
by custom, which is a second nature, or from an opinion,
which easily steals into men's minds, that they should never
change the method of acting they had once found good and
prosperous. Thus Machiavel prudently observes of Fabius
Maximus, " That he would obstinately retain his old inve
terate custom of delaying and protracting the war,' when now
the nature was changed and required brisker measures." l In
others again, the same defect proceeds from want of judg
ment, when men do not seasonably distinguish the periods
of things and actions, but alter too late, after the opportunity
is slipped. And something of this kind Demosthenes repre
hended in the Athenians, when he said, " They were like
rustics in a fencing-school, who always, after a blow, guard
the part that was hit, and not before."11 And lastly, this
defect in others, because they are unwilling that the labour
they have taken in the way once entered should be lost, and
know not how to sound a retreat, but rather trust they shall
conquer occasions by perseverance. But this obstinacy and
restiveness of the mind, from whatever root it proceeds, is
highly prejudicial to business and men's private fortunes : on
the contrary, nothing is more politic than to make the wheels
of the mind concentric with the wheels of fortune, and
capable of turning together with them. And thus much of
the two summary or collective precepts for advancing one's
fortune.

The scattered precepts for rising in life are numerous : we
shall single out a few by way of example. The first is, that
the builder of his fortune properly use and apply his rule,
that is, accustom his mind to measure and estimate the price
and value of things, as they conduce more or less to his par
ticular fortune and ends, and this with diligence, not by
halves. It is surprising, yet very true, that many have the
logical part of their mind set right and the mathematical
wrong, and judge truly of the consequences of things, but
very unskilfully of their value. Hence some men are fond

• B. zxxix. 40. : Discorso sopra L'<r. n Philippic i.

332 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [HOOK VIIL

of access to and familiarity with princes ; others of popular
fame, and fancy these to be great enjoyments , whereas both
of them are frequently full of envy and dangers. Others,
again, measure things according to their difficulty and the
labour bestowed in procuring them, imagining themselves
must needs have advanced as far as they have moved. So
Caesar, to describe how diligent and indefatigable the younger
Cato was to little purpose, said in the way of irony, " That
he did all things with great labour." And hence it happens,
that men frequently deceive themselves, when, having the
assistance of some great or honourable personage, they
promise themselves all manner of success ; whilst the truth
is, they are not the greatest, but the fittest instruments that
perform business best and quickest. For improving the true
mathematics of the mind, it should be principally noted what
ought to come first, what second, <fec. in the raising and pro
moting a man's fortune. And, in the first place, we set down
the emendation of the mind ; for bv removing the obstacles,
and levelling the inequalities of the mind, a way may be
sooner opened to fortune, than the impediments of the mind
be removed with the assistance of fortune. And, in the
second place, we set down riches, whereto most, perhaps,
would have assigned the first, as their use is so extensive.
But we condemn this opinion for a reason like that of
Machiavel in a similar case ; for though it was an established
notion, that " Money is the sinews of war," he said, more
justly, that "War had no sinews but those of good soldiers."
In the same manner, it may be truly affirmed that the sinews
of fortune are not money, but rather the powers of the mind,
address, courage, resolution, intrepidity, perseverance, modera
tion, industry, <fec. In the third place come fame and repu
tation ; and this the rather, because they have certain tides
and seasons, wherein, if they be not opportunely used, it will
be difficult to recover them again ; for it is a hopeless attempt
to recover a lost reputation. In the last place, we set down
honours, which are easier acquired by any of the former
three, much more by a conjunction of them all, than anyone
of them can be procured by honours. But as much depends
upon observing the order of things, so likewise in observing
the order of time, in disturbing of which men frequently err
and hasten to the end, when they should only have consulted

CHAP. II.] PRECEPTS FOR RISING IN LIFE. 333

the beginning, and suddenly flying at the greatest things of
all, rashly skip over those in the middle — thus neglecting the
useful precept, "Attend to what is immediately before you," —

" Quod nunc instat agamus."*

____ Our second precept is, to beware of being carried by great
ness and presumption of mind to things too difficult, and
thus of striving against the stream. It is a prudent advice,
in the raising of one's fortune, to yield to necessity.

" Fatis accede, deisque."7

Let us look all round us, and observe where things lie open,
where they are inclosed and blocked up, where they stoop,
And where they mount, and not misemploy our strength
where the way is impassable : in doing this we shall prevent
repulse, not stick too long in particulars, win a reputation of
being moderate, give little offence, and lastly, gain an opinion
of felicity ; whilst the things that would probably have
happened of themselves, will be attributed to our own
industry.

A third precept, which seems somewhat to cross the
former, though not when well understood, is, that we do not
always wait for opportunities, but sometimes excite and lead
them. This Demosthenes intimates in a high strain, when he
says, " That as it is a maxim for the general to lead his army,
so a wise man should lead things, make them execute his
will, and net himself be obliged to follow events." z And if
we attend, we shall find two different kinds of men held
equal to the management of affairs ; for some know how to
make an advantageous use of opportunities, yet contrive or
project nothing of themselves ; whilst others are wholly in
tent upon forming schemes, and neglect the laying hold of
opportunities as they offer : but either of these faculties is
quite lame without the other.

*~ It is a fourth precept to undertake nothing that neces
sarily requires much time, but constantly to remember time
is ever on the wing, —

" Sed fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus."*
And the only reason why those who addict themselves to
toilsome professions and employs, as lawyers, authors, &c., are
« Virg. Eclog. ix. 66.

Lncan, viii. 486. Quoted also by Jeremy Taylor in his " Life ol
• Philippic i. 51. * Ueorg. iii. SJS4.

Preface.

334 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VIII.

less versed in making their fortune, is the want of time from,
their other studies to gain a knowledge of particulars, wait
for opportunities, and project their own rising. "We see in
the courts of princes the most effectual men in making their
own fortunes, and invading the fortunes of others, are such
as have no public employ, but are continually plotting their
own rise and advantage.

A fifth precept is, that we in some measure imitate nature,
which does nothing in vain ; and this is not very difficult, if
we skilfully mix and interlace our affairs of all kinds : for in
every action the mind is to be so instructed and prepared,
and our intentions to be so dependent upon and subordinate
to each other, that if we cannot gain the highest step, we
may contentedly take up with the second, or even the third.
But if we can fix on no part of our prospect, then we should
direct the pains we have been at to some other end ; so, as
if we receive no benefit for the present, yet at least to gain
somewhat of future advantage. But if we can obtain no
solid good from our endeavours neither in present nor in
future, let us endeavour at least to gain a reputation by it,
or some one thing or other ; always computing with ourselves,
that from every action we receive some advantage more or
less, and by no means suffering the mind to despond or be
astonished when we fail of our principal end. For there is
nothing more contrary to political prudence than to be
wholly intent upon any single thing, as he who is so must
lose numberless opportunities which come sideways in busi
ness, and which perhaps would be more favourable and con
ducive to the things that shall turn up hereafter, than to
those that were before pursued. Let men therefore well
understand the rule — " These things should be done, but
those should not be omitted."5

The sixth precept is, that we do not too peremptorily
oblige ourselves to anything, though it seem at first sight not
liable to contingency ; but always reserve a window open to
fly out, or some secret back-door for retreat.
__A seventh precept is, that old one of Bias, provided it be not
used treacherously, but only by way of caution and moderation
— " Love your friend as if he were to become an enemy, and

b -Which is inculcated by ancient as well as modern wisdom. Epic.
Enchir. and Matt. xx. 23, and Luke xi. 42. Ed,

CCAP. IT. J coKRurr PRECEPTS NOT REQUIRED. 33.1

hate your enemy as if he were to become your friend :r° for
it surprisingly betrays and corrupts all sorts of utility, to
plunge one's self too far in unhappy friendships, vexatious,
and turbulent quarrels, or childish and empty emulations.
And so much, by way of example, upon the doctrine or art
of rising in life.

We are well aware that good fortune may be had upon
easier conditions than are here laid down ; for it falls almost
spontaneously upon some men, whilst others procure it only
by diligence and assiduity, without much art, though still
with some caution. But as Cicero, when he draws the per
fect orator, does not mean that every pleader either could or
should be like him j and as in describing the prince or the
politician, which some have undertaken, the model is formed
to the perfect rules of art, and not according to common
life — the same method is observed by us in this sketch of the
self-politician.

It must be observed that the precepts we have laid down
upon this subject are all of them lawful, and not such
immoral artifices as Machiavel speaks of, who directs men to
have little regard for virtue itself, but only for the show and
public reputation of it : " Because," says he, " the credit and
opinion of virtue are a help to a man, but virtue itself a
hinderance." d He also directs his politician to ground all his
prudence on this supposition, that men cannot be truly and
safely worked to his purpose but by fear, and therefore
advises him to endeavour, by all possible means, to subject
them to dangers and difficulties. Whence his politician may
seem to be what the Italians call a sower of thorns.0 So
Cicero cites this principle, " Let our friends fall, provided our
enemies perish ;vf upon which the triumvirs acted, in pur
chasing the death of their enemies by the destruction of their
nearest friends. So Catiline became a disturber and incen
diary of the state, that he might the better fish his fortune
in troubled waters, declaring, that if his fortune was set on

c Arist. Rhet. ii. 13, 4 ; and cf. Cic. Loel. xvi. Canning, in one of
his speeches, condemns this principle as unworthy of an honourable
mind. But it undoubtedly contains much wisdom, when it is restricted
to the moderation of the affections. Ed.

* Libro del Principe. e II seminatore delle spine.

1 Cadant amici, duramodo inimici intercidant. Orat. pro reg. Deiot

336 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [fiODK VI1L

fire, he would quench it, not with water, but destruction. I
And so Lysander would say, that children were to be decoyed
with sweetmeats and men by false oaths ; and there are
numerous other corrupt and pernicious maxims of the same
kind, more indeed, as in all other cases, than of such as are
just and sound. Now if any man delight in this corrupt or
tainted prudence, we deny not but he may take a short cut
to fortune, as being thus disentangled and set at large from
all restraint of laws, good-nature, and virtue, and having no
regard but to his own promotion — though it is in life as in a
journey, where the shortest road is the dirtiest, and yet the
l>etter not much about.

But if men were themselves, and not carried away with
the tempest of ambition, they would be so far from studying
these wicked arts, as rather to view them, not only in that
general map of the world, which shows all to be vanity and
vexation of spirit,11 but also in that more particular one,
which represents a life separate from good actions as a curse \
that the more eminent this life, the greater the curse ; that
the noblest reward of virtue is virtue itself; that the ex-
tremest punishment of vice is vice itself ; and that as Virgil
excellently observes, good actions are rewarded, as bad ones
also are punished — by the consciousness that attends them.
" Quae vobis, quae digna, viri, pro laudibus istis

Praemia posse rear solvi ? Pulcherrima primum

Dii moresque dabunt vestri."1

And indeed, whilst men are projecting and every way rack
ing their thoughts to provide and take care for their fortunes,
they ought, in the midst of all, to have an eye to the Divine
Providence, which frequently overturns and brings to naught
the machinations and deep devices of the wicked, according
to that of the Scripture, " He has conceived iniquity, and
shall bring forth vanity. :'k And although men were not in
this pursuit to practise injustice and unlawful arts, yet a con
tinual and restless search and striving after fortune, takes
up too much of their time, who have nobler things to observe,
and prevents them from paying their tribute to God, who
exacts from all men the tenth part of their substance and the
seventh of their time. Even the heathens observed, that

* Cicero pro L. Mursena, and Cat. Conspir. 31. b Eccles. i. 2 — 14.

ix. 252. k Pfial. vii. 15, but in another

CHAP. II. | EEL1GION ffOT to fcfc KfiGLECtfcP. 337

man was not made to keep his mind always on the ground ;
and, like the serpent, eating the dust, —

" Atque affigit humo divinee particulam auric."1
And again —

" Os homini sublime dedit, ccelumque tueri
Jussit ; et erectos ad sidera tollere vultus."m

Some, however, may flatter themselves, that, by what
sinister means soever their fortune be procured, they are
determined to use it well when obtained ; when it was said
oi Augustus Caesar and Septimus Severus, that " they ought
never to have been born, or never to have died :" so much
evil they committed in aspiring, and so much good they did
when seated. But let such men know that this recompensing
ot evil with good, though it may be approved after the
action, yet is justly condemned in the design. Lastly, it may
not be amiss, in this eager pursuit of iortune, for men to cool
themselves a little with the saying of Charles the Fifth to
his son; viz. " Fortune is like the ladies, who generally scorn
and discard their over-earnest admirers." But this last
remedy belongs to such as have their taste vitiated by a
disease of the mind. Let mankind rather rest upon the
corner-stone of divinity and philosophy, both which nearly
agree in the thing that ought first to be sought. For
Divinity says, " Seek ye first the kingdom of God, and all
other things shall be added unto you :"" so philosophy directs
us first to seek the goods of the mind, and the rest will
either be supplied, or are not much wanted. For although
this foundation, laid by human hands, is sometimes placed
upon the sand, as in the case of Brutus, who, at his death,
cried out, " 0 virtue, I have reverenced thee as a being, but
jilas, thou art aa empty name !"° yet the same foundation is
ever, by the Divine hand, fixed upon a rock. And here we
conclude the doctrine of rising in life, and the general doc
trine of business, together.

» Hor. Sat. ii. 79. - Ovid. Metam. L 85. n Matt. vi. 3a

• LJ rAftyiof aptr/}, Xoyo^ dp' r/irO'* tyw fit et
"Uf tpyov ijffKOiV <rv d' dp' icovXwtf To\y. — Diu. Cass. xlvii. 49.

338 ADVANCEMENT OF LEAtlSlNG. [BOOK

CHAPTER III.

The Arts 01 Empire en State Policy omitted. Two Deficiencies alone
noticed. The Art ci Enlarging the Bounds ol Empire, and the
Knowledge of Universal Justice drawn from the Fountains of Law.

WE come now to the art of empire, or the doctrine of
governing a state, which includes economics, a» a city in
cludes a family. But here, according to my former reso
lution, I impose silence upon myself; how well qualified
soever I might seem to treat the subject, from the constant
course of life, studies, employs, and the public posts I have,
for a long series of years, sustained, even to the highest
in the kingdom, which, through his majesty's favour, and no
merit of my own, I held for four years. And this I speak
to posterity, not out of ostentation; but because I judge it
may somewhat import the dignity of learning, to have a 'man
born for letters rather than anything else, who should, by
a certain fatality, and against the bent of his genius, be com
pelled into active life, and yet be raised, by a prudent king,
to the greatest posts of honour, trust, and civil employ.
And if I should hereafter have leisure to write upon govern
ment, the work will probably either be posthumous or abor
tive. But in the mean time, having now seated all the
sciences, each in its proper r>lace, lest such a high chair as
that of government should remain absolutely vacant, we here
observe, that two parts of civil doctrine, though belonging
not to the secrets of state, but of a more open and vulgar
nature, are deficient, and shall, therefore, in our manner,
give specimens for supplying them.

The art of government includes the political offices ; viz.,
1. the preservation ; 2. the happiness; and 3. the enlarge*
ment of a state. The two former have, in good measure,
been excellently treated by some ; a but there ia nothing
extant upon the last ; which we, therefore, note as deficient,
and propose the following sketch, by way of example, for
supplying it, under the title of the Military Statesman, or the
Doctrine of extending the Bounds of Empire.

• For an account of these authors, see Morhofs "Polyhi.st." torn. iii.
De Prndentire Civilis Scriptoribus ; and " Stollii Jntroduct. in Hist. Li-
terar." cap. v. De Pru^entia Politica.

CHAfc. HI.] ART OF ENLARGING KINGDOMS. 339

THE MILITARY STATESMAN ;

OR, A SPECIMEN OF THE DOCTRINE OP ENLARGING THE BOUNDS OP
EMPIRE.

The saying ot Themistocles, if applied to himself, was
indecent and haughty ; but if meant in general, contains a
very prudent observation, and BA grave a censure. 7?eing
asked, at a feast, to touch a lute, he answered, " He could
not fiddle ; but he could raise a small village to a great city." b
Which words, if taken in a political sense, excellently de
scribe and distinguish two very different faculties in those
who are at the helm of states. For upon an exact survey,
we shall find some, though but very few, that, being raised
to the council-board, the senate, or other public office, can
enlarge a small state, or city, and yet have little skill in
music ; but many more, who, having a good hand upon the
harp, or the lute, that is, at the trifles of a court, are so far
from enlarging a state, that they rather seem designed by
nature to overturn and ruin it, though ever so happy and
flourishing. And, indeed, those base arts and tricks by
which many counsellors and men of great place procure the
favour of their sovereign, and a popular character, deserve
no other name than a certain knack of fiddling ; as being
things more pleasing for the present, and more ornamental
to the practitioner, than useful, and suited to enlarge the
bounds, or increase the riches of the state, whereof they are
ministers. Again, there are, doubtless, counsellors and
governors, who, though equal to business, and of no con
temptible abilities, may commodiously manage things so as
to preserve them from manifest precipices and inconveniences,
though they by no means have the creative power of building
and extending an empire. But whatever the workmen be,
let us regard the work itself; viz., what is to be deemed the
true extent of kingdoms and republics, and by what means
this may be procured — a subject well deserving to lie con
tinually before princes, for their diligent meditation ; lest,
by over-rating their own strength, they should rashly engage
in too difficult and vain enterprises, or, thinking too meanly
of their power, submit to timorous and effeminate counsels.

The greatness of an empire, in point of bulk and territory,
is subject to mensuration, and for its revenue, to calculation,
b Plutarch, Tv.s. Qitoost. b. i. 2.

340 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [fcOOK Vlll,

1 be number of inhabitants may be known by valuation or
tax, and the number and extent oi cities and towns, by sur
vey and maps ; yet in all civil affairs there is not a tiling
more liable to error than the making a true and intrinsic
estimate of the strength and riches of a state. The kingdom
ot heaven is compared, not to an acorn, or any large nut, but
to a grain of mustard-seed ; which, though one of the least
grains, has in it a certain quick property, and native spirit,
whereby it rises soon, and spreads itsell wide : so some stated
of very large compass are little suited to extend their limits,
or procure a wider command, whilst others ot small dimen
sion prove the foundations of the greatest monarchies.

Fortified towns, well-stored arsenals, noble breeds of war-
horses, armed chariots, elephants, engines, all kinds of artillery,
arms, and the like, are nothing more than a sheep in a lion's
skin, unless the nation itself be. from its origin and temper,
stout and warlike. Nor is number of troops itself of any
great service, where the soldiers are weak and enervate : for,
as Virgil well observes, " The wolf cares not how large the
flock is."c The Persian army in the plains of Arbela, ap
peared to the eyes of the Macedonians as an immense ocean
of people ; insomuch that Alexander's leaders, being struck
at the sight, counselled their general to fall upon them by
night ; but he replied, " I will not steal the victory :"d and
it was found an easier conquest than he expected. Tigranes,
encamped upon a hill, with an army of four hundred thou
sand men, seeing the Roman army, consisting but of fourteen
thousand, making up to him, he jested at it, and said, " Those
men are too many for an embassy, but much too few for a
battle :" c yti; before sunset he found them enough to give him
chase, with infinite slaughter. And we have abundant exam
ples of the great inequality betwixt number and strength.
This, therefore, may be first set down as a sure and certain
maxim, and the capital of all the rest, with regard to the
greatness of a stute, that the people be of a military race,1
or both by origin and disposition warlike. The sinews of
war are not money, if the sinews of men's arms be wanting,
-* they are in a soft and effeminate nation. It was a just
Answer of Solon to Croesus, who showed him all his treasure :

* Eclog. vii. 52. d Quintns Curtius, iv. 15, and Plutarch.

LucuL ' Machi Dlscorso sopra Livi >, lib. ii.

CHAP. UL] A MILITARY TEMPER NECESSARY. 341

" Yes, sir, but it another should come Tvith better iron than
you. he would be master of all this gold." s And, therefore,
all princes whose native subjects are not hardy and military,
should make a very modest estimate of their power ; as, on
the other hand, those who rule a stout and martial people,
may well enough know their own strength, if they be not
otherwise wanting to themselves. As to hired forces, which
is the usual remedy when native forces are wanting, there
are numerous examples, which clearly show, that whatever
state depends upon them, though it may perhaps for a time
extend its leathers beyond its nest, yet they will mew soon
after.

The blessing of Judah and Issachar can never meet ; sc
that the same tribe, or nation, should be both the lion's
whelp, and the ass under the burden:11 nor can a people,
overburdened with taxes, ever be strong and warlike. It is
true, that taxes levied by public consent less dispirit and
sink the minds of the subject than those imposed in absolute
governments ; as clearly appears by what is called excise in the
Netherlands, and in some measure by the contributions called
the subsidies in England. We are now speaking of the minds,
and not of the wealth of the people : for tributes by consent,
though the same thing with tributes imposed, as to exhaust
ing the riches of a kingdom, yet very differently affect the
minds of the subject. So that this also must be a maxim of
state, " That a people oppressed with taxes is unfit to rule."

States and kingdoms that aspire to greatness, must be very
careful that their nobles and gentry increase not too much ;
otherwise, the common people will be dispirited, reduced to
an abject state, and become little better than slaves to the
nobility : as we see in coppices, if the staddles are left too
numerous, there will never be clean underwood ; but the
greatest part degenerates into shrubs and bushes. So in
nations, where the nobility is too numerous, the commonalty
will be base and cowardly ; and, at length, not one head in a
hundred among them prove fit for a helmet, especially with
regard to the infantry, which is generally the prime strength
of an army. Whence, though a nation be full-peopled, ita
force may be small. We need no clearer proof of this than
hv comparing Eng'und and France. For though England
* Flut,

542 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VIIL

b<5 far inferior in extent and number of inhabitants, yet it
lias almost constantly got the better of France in war : for
this reason, that the rustics, and lower sort of people in Eng
land, make better soldiers than the peasants of France. And
in this respect it was a very political and deep foresight of
Henry the Seventh of England, to constitute lesser settled
farms, and houses of husbandry, with a certain fixed and
inseparable proportion of land annexed, sufficient for a life
of plenty : so that the proprietors themselves, or at least the
renters, and not hirelings, might occupy them. For thus a
nation may acquire that character which Virgil gives of
ancient Italy: "A country strong in arms, and rich of soil," —
" Terra potens armis, atque ubere glebae."1

We must not here pass over a sort of people, almost peculiar
to England, viz., the servants of our nobles and gentry ; as
the lowest of this kind are no way inferior to the yeomanry
for foot-service. And it is certain that the hospitable mag
nificence and splendour, the attendance and large train, in
use among the nobility and gentry of England, add much to
our military strength ; as, on the other hand, a close retired
life among the nobility causes a want of forces.

It must be earnestly endeavoured, that the tree of monar
chy, like the tree of Nebuchadnezzar, have its trunk suffi
ciently large and strong, to support its branches and leaves ;
or that the natives be sufficient to keep the foreign subjects
under : whence those states best consult their greatness,
which are liberal of naturalization. For it were vain to
think a handful of men, how excellent soever in spirit and
counsel, should hold large and spacious countries under the
yoke of empire. This, indeed, might perhaps be done for a
season, but it cannot be lasting. The Spartans were reserved
and difficult in receiving foreigners among them ; and, there
fore, so long as they ruled within their own narrow bounds,
their affairs stood firm and strong ; but soon after they began
to widen their borders, and extend their dominion farther
than the Spartan race could well command the foreign crowd,
their power sunk of a sudden. Never did commonwealth
receive new citizens so profusely as the Roman ; whence its
fortune was equal to so prudent a conduct : and thus the

neid, i. 531.

CHAP. III.] SEDENTARY ARTS ENERVATE. 343

Romans acquired the most extensive empire oil the globe.
It was their custom to give a speedy denization, and in thfl
highest degree ; that is, not only a right of commerce of
marriage and inheritance, but also the right of suffrage,
and of candidature for places and honours. k And this not
only to particular persons ; but they conferred it upon entire
families, cities, and sometimes whole nations at once. Add
to this their custom of settling colonies, whereby Roman
roots were transplanted in foreign soil. And to consider
these two practices together, it might be said, that the
Romans did not spread themselves over the globe, but that
the globe spread itself over the Romans : which is the
securest method of extending an empire. I have often
wondered how the Spanish government could with so few
natives inclose and curb so many kingdoms and provinces.
But Spain may be esteemed a sufficiently large trunk, as it
contains a much greater tract of country than either Rome
or Sparta did at first. And although the Spaniards are very
sparing of naturalization, yet they do what comes next to it :
promiscuously receive the subjects of all nations into their
army ; and even their highest military office is often con
ferred upon foreign leaders. Nay, it appears that Spain at
length begins to feel their want of natives, and are now
endeavouring to supply it.

It is certain, that the sedentary mechanic arts, practised
within doors, and the more curious manufactures, which
require the finger rather than the arm, are in their own
nature opposite to a military spirit. Men of the sword
universally delight in exemption from work, and dread dan
gers less than labour. And in this temper they must be
somewhat indulged, if we desire to keep their minds in
vigour. It was, therefore, a great advantage to Sparta,
Athens, Rome, and other ancient republics, that they had Die
use, not of freemen, but generally of slaves for this kind of
domestic arts. But after the Christian religion gained ground,
the use of slaves was in great measure abolished. What
comes nearest this custom is to leave such arts chiefly to
strangers, who for that purpose should be invited to come in,
or at least . be easily admitted. The native vulgar should
<>f three kinds ; viz., husbandmen, free servants, and
* Cic- pro L- C. B»l,

344 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [HOOK VIIL

handicraftsmen, used to the strong masculine arts; such as
sinithery, masonry, carpentry, <fec., without including tho
soldiery.

But above all, it is most conducive to the greatness of
empire, for a nation to profess the skill of arms as its prin
cipal glory and most honourable employ; for the things
hitherto spoken of are but preparatory to the use of arms ;
and to what end this preparation, if the thing itselt be not
reduced to action ? Romulas, as the story goes, left it in
charge to his people at his death, that of all things they
should cultivate the art of war, as that which would make
their city the head of the world.1 The whole frame and
structure of the Spartan government tended, with more dili
gence, indeed, than prudence, only to make its inhabitants
warriors. Such was also the practice of the Persians and
Macedonians, though not so constant and lasting. The Bri
tons, Gauls, Germans, Goths, Saxons, and Normans, for some
time also principally cultivated military arts. The Turks
did the same, being not a little excited thereto by their law,
and still continue the discipline, notwithstanding their sol
diery be now on its decline. Of all Christian Europe, the
only nation that still retains and professes this discipline is
the Spanish. But it is so plain, that every one advances
farthest in what he studies most, as to require no enforcing.
It is sufficient to intimate, that unless a nation professedly
studies and practises arms and military discipline, so as to
make them a principal business, it must not expect that any
remarkable greatness of empire will come of its own accord.
On the contrary, it is the most certain oracle of time, that
those nations \vhich have longest continued in the study and
profession of arms, as the Romans and the Turks have prin
cipally done, make the most surprising progress in enlarging
the bounds ol empire. And again, those nations which have
flourished, though but for a single age, in military glory, yet
during that time have obtained such a greatness of empire
as has remained with them long after, when their martial
discipline was slackened.

It bears some relation to the foregoing precept, that " *
state should have such laws and customs as may romlily
just caii.;,s, or at least pretext*, »:j taking j\nuf
' Livy, v, 37,

CHAP. 111.] A READINESS FOR WAR NECESSARY. 345

For there is such a natural notion of justice imprinted in
men's minds, that they will not makt? war, which is attended
with so many calamities, unless for some weighty or at least
some specious reason. The Turks are never unprovided of a
cause of war, viz., the propagation of their law and religion.
The Romans, though it was a high degree ot honour for their
emperors to extend the borders of their empire, yet never
undertook a war for that sole end. Let it, therefore, he a
rule to all nations that aim at empire, to have a quick and
lively sensibility of any injury done to their frontier subjects,
merchants, or public ministers. And let them not sit too
long quiet after the first provocation. Let them also t>e
ready and cheerful in sending auxiliaries to their friends and
allies, which the Romans constantly observed, insomuch that
if an invasion were made upon any of their allies, who also
had a defensive league with others, and the former begged
assistance severally, the Romans would ever be the first to
give it, and not suffer the honour of the benefit to be
snatched from them by others. As for the wars anciently
waged from a certain conformity or tacit correspondence of
states. I cannot see on what law they stood. Such were the
wars undertaken by the Romans for restoring liberty to
Greece; such were those of the Lacedaemonians and Athe
nians, for establishing or overturning democracies or oligar
chies; and such sometimes are those entered into by repub
lics or kingdoms, under pretext of protecting the sul/jects of
other nations, or delivering them from tyranny. It may
suffice for the present purpose, that no state expect any
greatness of empire, unless it be immediately ready to seize
any just occasion of a war.

No one body, whether natural or political, can preserve itn
health without exercise ; and honourable war is the whole
some exercise of a kingdom or commonwealth. Civil wars,
indeed, are like the heat of a fever, but a war abroad is like
the heat of motion — wholesome; for men's minds are ener
vated and their manners corrupted by sluggish and inactive
peace. And, however it may be as to the happiness of a
state, it is doubtless best for its greatness to be as it were
always in arms. A veteran army, indeed, kept constantly
ready for marching, is expensive, yet it gives a state the dia-
oj' tliiuy* among its neighbours, or at tot procures it

3-10 ADVAXCKMEXT OF LEARNING. [BOOK'VITI.

a great reputation in other respects, as may be clearly seen
in the Spaniard, who has now, for a long succession of years,
kept a standing army, though not al\vrtys in the same part
of the country.

The dominion of the sea is an epitome of monarchy. Ci
cero, in a letter to Atticus, writing ot Pompey 's preparation
against Csesar, says, the designs of Pompey are like those of
Themistocles ; for he thinks they who command the sea
command the empire.01 And doubtless Pompey would havo
wearied Caesar out, and brought him under, had he not,
through a vain confidence, abandoned his design. It is plain,
from many examples, of how great consequence sea-tights
are. The fight at Actium decided the empire of the world ;
the fight of Lepanto struck a hook in the nose of the Turk ;
and it has frequently happened that victories or defeats at
sea have put a final end to the war, that is, when the whole
fortune of it has been committed to them. Doubtless the being
master of the sea leaves a nation at great liberty to act, and
to take as much or as little of the war as it pleases, whilst
those who are superior in land forces have yet numerous
difficulties to struggle with. And at present, amongst the
European nations, a naval strength, which is the portion of
Great Britain, is more than ever of the greatest importance
to sovereignty, as well because most of the kingdoms of
Europe are not continents, but in good measure surrounded
by the sea, as because the treasures of both Indies seem but
an accessory to the dominion of the seas.

The wars of later times seem to have been waged in the
dark, compared with the variety of glory and honour usually
reflected upon the military men of former ages. It is true,
we have at this day certain military honours designed per
haps as incentives to courage, though common to men of the
gown as well as the sword ; we have also some coats of arms
and pub^c hospitals, for soldiers worn out and disabled in
the service; but among the ancients, when a victory was
obtained, there were trophies, funeral orations, and magni
ficent monuments for such as died in the wars. Civic crowns
and military garlands were bestowed upon all the soldiers.
The very name of emperor was afterwards borrowed by the
greatest kings from leaders in the wars ; they had soJeniP
* B, 10, op. 8,

CHAP. III.] PRINCIPLES OF EQUITY. 347

triumphs for their successful generals; they had donatives
and great largesses for the soldiers, when the army was dis
banded ; these are such great and dazzling things in the eyes
of mortals, as to be capable of firing the most frozen spirits
and inflaming them for war. In particular, the manner of
triumph among the Romans was not a thing of pageantry or
empty show, but deserving to be reckoned among the wisest
and most noble of their customs, as being attended with
these three particulars ; viz., 1. The glory and honour of
their leaders ; 2. The enriching of the treasury with the
spoils; and, 3. Donatives to the army. But their triumphal
honours were, perhaps, unfit for monarchies, unless in the
person of the king or his son, which also obtained at Rome
in the times of its emperors, who reserved the honour of the
triumph as peculiar to themselves and their sons upon re
turning from the wars whereat they were present, and had
brought to a conclusion, only conferring their vestments and
triumphal ensigns upon the other leaders.

But to conclude, though no man, as the Scripture testifies,
can by taking care add one cubit to his stature,11 that is, in
the little model of the human body ; yet in the vast fabric
of kingdoms and commonwealths, it is in the power of kings
and rulers to extend and enlarge the bounds of empire; for by
prudently introducing such laws, orders, and customs as those
above mentioned, and the like, they might sow the seeds of
greatness for posterity and future ages. But these counsels
seldom reach the ears of princes, who generally commit the
whole to the direction and disposal of fortune.

The other desideratum we note in the art of government,
is the doctrine of universal justice, or the fountains of law.
They who iiave hitherto written upon laws were either as
philosophers or lawyers : the philosophers advance many
things that appear beautiful in discourse, but lie out of the
road of use; whilst the lawyers, being bound and subject to
the decrees of the laws prevailing in their several countries,
whether Roman cr pontifical, have not their judgment free,
but write as in fetters. This doctrine, doubtless, properly
belongs to statesmen, who best understand civil society, the
good of the people, natural equity, the customs of nations,
and the different forms of states; whence they are able to
• Matt. vi. 27, and Luke xii. 25.

348 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII.

judge cf laws by the principles and precepts, as well of na
tural justice as of politics. The present view, therefore, is
to discover the fountains of justice and public good, and in
all the parts of equity to give a. certain character and idea
of what is just, according whereto those who desire it may
examine the laws of particular kingdoms and states, and
thence endeavour to amend them. And of this doctrine we
shall, in our usual way, give an example, aphoristically, in a
single title.

A SPECIMEN OF THE METHOD OF TREATING UNIVERSAL JUSTICE; OR,
THE FOUNTAINS OF EQUITY.0

Introduction.

APHORISM I. Either law or force prevails in civil society.
But there is some force that resembles law, and some law
that resembles force more than justice; whence there are
three fountains of injustice; viz., 1. Mere force; 2. Mali
cious ensnaring under colour of law ; and, 3. The severity of
the law itself.

II. The ground of private right is this : He who does an
injury receives profit or pleasure in the action, and incurs
danger by the example ; whilst others partake not with him
in that profit or pleasure, but think the example concerns
them ; whence they easily agree to defend themselves by laws,
lest each particular should be injured in his turn. But it it
should happen, from the nature of the times, and a commu
nion of guilt, that the greater or more powerful part should
be subject to danger, rather than defended from it by law,
faction here disannuls the law; and this case frequently
happens.

III. But private right lies under the protection of public
laws ; for law guards the people, and magistrates guard the
laws. But the authority of the magistrate is derived from
the majesty of the government, the form of the constitution,
and its fundamental laws; whence, if the political constitu
tion be just and right, the laws will be of excellent use; but
if otherwise, of little security.

0 Compare Morhof s "Polyhistor," torn. iii. lib. vi. De Jurisprudent!*
universalis Scriptoribus ; " Struvii Bibliothec. Philosoph." cap. 6, 7.
De Scriptoribus Politicis ; and " Stollii Introduct, jn IJist, kUer.
p. 753, &-., De Jure ^utural-, 5d,

CHAP. 1II.J CERTAINTY ESSESTUL TO LAW. 349

IV. Public law is not only the preserver of private right,
so as to keep it unviolated and prevent injuries, but extends
also to religion, arms, discipline, ornaments, wealth, and all
things that regard the good of a state.

V. For the end and scope of laws, whereto all their de
crees and sanctions ought to tend, is the happiness of the
people; which is procurable, — 1. by rightly instructing them
in piety, religion, and the duties of morality; 2. securing
them by arms against foreign enemies; 3. guarding them
by laws against faction and private injuries; 4. rendering
them obedient to the government and magistracy ; and,
5. thus causing them to nourish in strength and plenty.
But laws are the instruments and sinews for procuring all
this.

VI. The best laws, indeed, secure this good end, but many
other laws fail oi it ; for laws differ surprisingly from one
another, insomuch that some are, — 1. excellent; others,
2. of a middle nature; and, 3. others again absolutely cor
rupt. We shall, therefore, here offer, according to the best
of our judgment, certain laws, as it were, of laws;P from
whence an information may be derived as to what is well or
what is ill laid down, or established by particular laws.

VII. But before we proceed to the body of particular
laws, we will briefly touch upon the excellencies and dig
nities of laws in general. Now, that may be esteemed a
good law which .is, — 1. clear and certain in its sense; 2. just
in its command; 3. commodious in the execution; 4. agree
able to the form of government ; and, 5. productive of virtue
in the subject.'!

TITLE I.
Of that primary dignity of the law, certainty.

VIII. Certainty is so essential to a law, that a law without
it cannot be just ; for if the trumpet gives an uncertain

P As laying down f,he just foundations and rules of the law ; for the
law itself is governed by reason, justice, and good sense. But perhaps
these aphorisms of the author follow the particular law of England too
close to be allowed by other nations for the foundations oi universal
justice, which is a very extensive suNject. See " Struvii Bibliothec.
Vhilosoph." cap. 8, Pe Scriptoribus Juris Naturae et Gentium. Ed.

i These are so many several titles, or general heads, laid down by th«
author, as if he intended a full treatise upon the subject ; but he her*
only considers the first of them. £ttaw.

350 ADVANCEMENT Of LEARNING. I BOOK Vttl

sound, who shall prepare himself to the battle?' So if
the law has an uncertain sense, who shall obey it ? A law,
therefore, ought to give warning before it strikes : and it is
a true maxim, that the best law leaves least to the breast of
the judge ; which is effected by certainty.

IX. Laws have two uncertainties — the one where no law
is prescribed, the other when a law is ambiguous and obscure ;
wherefore we must first speak of cases omitted by the law,
that in these also may be found some rules of certainty.

Cases omitted in law.

X. The narrowness of human prudence cannot foresee all
the cases that time may produce. Whence new cases, and
cases omitted, frequently turn up. And for these there are
three remedies or supplies; viz., 1. by proceeding upon ana
logy ; 2. by the use of precedents, though not yet brought
into a law ; and 3. by juries, which decree according to con
science and discretion, whether in the courts of equity or of
common law.

Application and extension of laws.

XI. 1. In cases omitted, the rule of law is to be deduced
from similar cases, but with caution and judgment. And
here the following rules are to be observed : Let reason be
esteemed a fruitful, and custom a barren thing, so as to breed
no cases. And therefore what is received against the reason
of a law, or where its reason is obscure, should not be drawn
into precedents.

XII. A great public good must draw to itself all cases
omitted; and therefore, when a law remarkably, and in an ex
traordinary manner, regards and procures the good of the
public, let its interpretation be full and extensive.

XIII. It is a cruel thing to torture the laws, that they
may torture men ; whence penal laws, much less capital
laws, should not be extended to new offences. But if the
offence be old, and known to the law, and its prosecution fall
upon a new case not provided for by law, the law must
rather be forsaken than offences go unpunished.

XIV. Statutes that repeal the common law, especially in
common and settled cases, should not be drawn by analogy
to cases omitted ; for when the republic has long been with '

' 1 Cor. xiv. 8.

CHAI*. III.] RXTEKSION Otf LAWS. 351

out an entire law, and that in express cases, there is little
danger if cases omitted should wait their remedy from a new
statute.

XV. It is enough for such statutes as were plainly tem
porary laws, enacted upon particular urgent occasions ot state,
to contain themselves within their proper cases after those
occasions cease ; for it were preposterous to extend them ii?
any measure to cases omitted.

XVI. There is no precedent of a precedent ; but exten
sion should rest in immediate cases, otherwise it would
gradually slide on to dissimilar cases, and so the wit ol men
prevail over the authority of laws.

XVII. In such laws and statutes as are concise, extension
may be more freely allowed ; but in those which express par
ticular cases, it should be used more cautiously. For as
exception strengthens the force of a law in unaccepted cases,
so enumeration weakens it in cases not enumerated.

XVIII. An explanatory statute stops the current of a
precedent statute ; nor does either of them admit extension
afterwards. Neither should the judge make a super-extension
where the law has once begun one.

XIX. The solemnity of forms and acts admits not of ex
tension to similar cases : for it is losing the nature of
solemnity to go from custom to opinion, and the intro
duction of new things takes from the majesty of the old.

XX. The extension of law is easy to after-cases, which had
no existence at the time when the law was made : for where
a case could not be described because not thon in being, a
case omitted is deemed a case expressed, if there be the same
reason for it.

Precedents and the use of forms.

XXL 2. We come next* to precedents; from which jus
tice may be derived where the law is deficient, but reserving
custom, which is a kind of law, and the precedents which,
through frequent use, are passed into custom, as into a tacit
law ; we shall at present only speak of such precedents as
happen but rarely, and have not acquired the force of a law,
with a view to show how and with what caution a rule of
justice may be derived from them when the law is defective.

XXII. Precedents are to be derived from good and
moderate times, and not from such as are tyrannical, f

352 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [bOOR VIll.

or dissolute ; for this latter kind are a spurious birth oi
time, and prove more prejudicial than instructive,

XXIII. Modern examples are to be held the safest. Foi
why may not what was lately done, without any incon
venience be safely done again 1 Yet recent examples have
the less authority ; and, where things require a restoration,
participate more of their own times than of right reason.

XXIV. Ancient precedents are to be received with cau
tion and choice ; for the course of time alters many things';
so that what seems ancient, in time may, for disturbance and
unsuitablencss, be new at the present ; and therefore the
precedents of intermediate times are the best, or those of
such times as have most agreement with the present, which
ancient times may happen to have more than later.

XXV. Let the limits of a precedent be observed, and
rather kept within than exceeded ; for where there is no
rule of law, everything should be suspected : and therefore,
as this is a dark road, we should not be hasty to follow.

XXVI. Beware of fragments and epitomes of examples,
and rather consider the whole of the precedent with all its
process ; for if it be absurd to judge upon part of a law
without understanding the whole, this should be much rather
observed of precedents, the use whereof is precarious, with
out an evident correspondence.

XXVII. It is of great consequence through what hands
the precedents pass, and by whom they have been allowed.
For if they have obtained only among clerks and secretaries,
by the course of the court, without any manifest knowledge
of their superiors : or have prevailed among that source oi
errors, the populace, they are to be rejected or lighly esteemed.
But if they come before senators, judges, or principal courts,
so that of necessity they must have been strengthened, at
least by tht> tacit approval of proper persons, their dignity is
the greater.

XXVIII. More authority is to be allowed to those
examples which, though less used, have been published and
thoroughly canvassed ; but less to those that have lain buried
and forgotten in the closet or archives : for examples, like
waters, are wholesomest in the running stream.

XXIX. Precedents in law should not be derived JronL
history, but from public acts and accurate traditions ; for it

CHAP. III.] COURTS OF CENSURE. 353

is a certain infelicity, even among the best historians, that
they dwell not sufficiently upon laws and judicial proceed
ings ; or if they happen to have some regard thereto, yet
their accounts are far from being authentic.

XXX. An example rejected in the same, or next succeed
ing age, should not easily be received again when the same
case recurs; for it makes not so much in its favour that men
sometimes used it, as in its disfavour that they dropped it
upon experience.

XXXI. Examples are things of direction and advice, not
rules or orders, and therefore should be so managed as to
nend the authority of former times to the service of the
present.

Praetorian and censorian courts.

XXXII. 3. There should be both courts and juries, to
iudge according to conscience and discretion, where the rule
of the law is defective ; for laws, as we before observed, can
not provide against all cases, but are suited only to such as
frequently happen : time, the wisest of ail things, daily in
troducing new cases.

XXXIII. But new cases happen both in criminal matters,
which require punishment ; and in civil causes, which require
relief. The courts that regard the former, we call censorial,
or courts of justice ; and those that regard the latter, prae-
torial, or courts of equity.

XXXIV. The courts of justice should have jurisdiction
and power, not only to punish new offences, but also to in
crease the penalties appointed by the laws for old ones,
where the cases are flagrant and notorious, yet not capital ;
for every enormous crime may be esteemed a new one.

XXXV. In like manner, the courts of equity should have
power as well to abate the rigour of the law as to supply its
defects j for if a remedy be afforded to a person neglected by
the law, much more to him who is hurt by the law.

XXXVI. Both the censorial and prsetorial courts should
absolutely confine themselves to enormous and extraordinary
cases, without invading the ordinary jurisdictions ; lest
otherwise the law should rather be supplanted than sup
plied.

XXXVII. These jurisdictions should reside only in
supreme courts, and not be communicated to the lower;

2 2 A

354 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK V11I.

for the power of supplying, extending, or moderating the
laws, differs but little from a power of making them.

XXXVIII. These courts of jurisdiction should not be
committed to a single person, but consist of several ; and
let not their verdict be given in silence, but let the judges
produce the reasons of their sentence openly and in full
audience of the court ; so that what is free in power may yet
be limited by regard to fame and reputation.

XXXIX. Let there be no records of blood, nor sentence
of capital crimes, passed in any court, but upon known and
certain laws : God himself first pronounced, and afterwards
inflicted death. Nov should a man lose his life without first
knowing that he had forfeited it.

XL. In the courts of justice, let there be three returns of
the jury, that the judges may not only lie under no necessity
of absolving or condemning, but also have a liberty of pro
nouncing the case not clear. And let there be, besides
penalty, a note of infamy or punishment by way of admonish
ing others, and chastising delinquents, as it were, by putting
them to the blush with shame and scandal.

XLI. In courts of justice, let the first overtures and in
termediate parts of all great offences be punished, though the
end were not accomplished. And this should be the principal
use of such courts ; for it is the part of discipline to punish
the first buddings of offences ; and the part of clemency, to
punish the intermediate actions, and prevent their taking
effect.

XLII. Great regard must be had in courts of equity, not
to afford relief in those cases which the law has not so much
omitted as despised for their levity, or, for their odiousness,
judged unworthy of a remedy.

XLIII. But above all, it is of the greatest moment to the
certainty of the laws we now speak of, that courts of equity
keep from swelling and overflowing, lest, under pretence of
mitigating the rigour of the law, they should cut its sinews
and weaken its strength by wresting all things to their own
disposal.

XLIV. No court of equity should have a right of decree
ing against a statute, under any pretext of equity whatever $
otherwise the judge would become the legislator, and have
all things dependent upon his will.

CHAP. HI.] RELATION OP LAWS 355

XLV. Some conceive the jurisdiction which decrees accord
ing to equity and conscience, and that which proceeds accord
ing to strict justice, should be deputed to the same courts,
whilst others would have them kept distinct ; which seems
much the better way. There will be no distinction of cases
where there is a mixture of jurisdictions j but arbitration
will at length supersede the law.

XL VI. The use of the praetor's table stood upon a good
foundation among the Romans, as that wherein he set down
and published in what manner he would administer justice.
According to which example, the judges in courts of equity
should propose to themselves some certain rules to go by,
and fix them up to public view : for as that law is ever the
best, which leaves least to the breast of the judge ; so is that
judge the best, who leaves least to himseli.3
Retrospect and relation of laws.

XLVII. There is also another way of supplying cases
omitted ; viz., when one law is made upon another, and
brings the cases omitted along with it. This happens in
those laws or statutes, which, according to the common
phrase, look backwards. But laws of this kind are to be
seldom used, and with great caution ; for a Janus-face is not
to be admired in the law.

XL VIII. He who captiously and fraudulently eludes and
circumscribes the words or intention ot a law, deserves to be
hampered by a subsequent law. Whence, in iiaudulent and
evasive cases, it is just for laws to carry a retrospection, and
prove of mutual assistance to each other ; so that he who
invents loopholes and plots the subversion of present laws,
may at least be awed by future.

XLIX. Such laws as strengthen and confirm the true in
tentions of acts and instruments against the defects of
forms and solemnities, very justly include past actions j for
the principal fault of a retrospective law is, its causing dis
turbance; but these confirming laws regard the peace and
settlement of transactions. Care, however, must be had not
to disturb things once adjudged.

L. It should be carefully observed, that not only such
laws as look back to what is past invalidate former transac~

• The author made a speech to this effect, upon receiving the seal
and tak ing his place in Chancery.

2*1

356 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VI1L

tions, but such also as prohibit and restrain things future,
which are necessarily connected with things past : so, if any
law should prohibit certain artificers the sale of their wares
in future, this law, though it speaks for hereafter, yet
operates upon times past, though such artificers had then no
other lawful means of subsisting.

LI. All declaratory laws, though they make no mention of
time past, yet are, by the very declaration itself, entirely to
regard past matters ; for the interpretation does not begin
with the declaration, but, as it were, is made contemporary
with the law itself. And therefore declaratory laws should
not be enacted, except in cases where the law may be retro-
spected with justice. And so much for the uncertainty ol
laws, where the law is extant. We proceed to the other
part, where the laws, though extant, are perplexed and
obscure.

Obscurity of laws.

LII. The obscurity of laws has four sources ; viz., 1. An
accumulation of laws, especially if mixed with such as are
obsolete. 2. An ambiguous description, or want of clear and
distinct delivery. 3. A neglect or failure in instituting the
method of interpreting justice. 4. And lastly, a clashing and
uncertainty of judgments.

Excessive accumulation of laws.

LTII. The prophet says, "It shall rain snares upon them :"*
but there are no worse snares than the snares of laws, espe
cially the penal, which, growing excessive in number, and
useless through time, prove not a lantern, but nets to the feet.

LIV. There are two ways in use of making new statutes;
the one confirms and strengthens the former statutes in the
like cases, at the same time adding or altering some parti
culars ; the other abrogates and cancels all that was enacted
before, and instead thereof, substitutes a new uniform law.
And the latter method is the best : for in the former the
decrees become complicate and perplexed, and though the
business be performed, yet the body of laws in the mean
time becomes corrupt ; but in the latter, greater diligence
must be used when the law itself comes to be weighed anew,
and what was before enacted to be reconsidered antecedent

• PaaL x. 7.

CHAP. III.] OBSOLETE LAWS TO BE ANNULLED. 357

to its passing ; by which means the future agreement and
harmony of the laws is well consulted.

LV. It was in use among the Athenians for six persona
annually to examine the contradictory titles of their laws,
and propose to the people such of them as could not be
reconciled, that some certain resolution might be taken about
them. According to which example, the legislators of every
state should once in three or five years, as it shall seem
proper, take a review of these contrarieties in law ; but let
them first be inspected and prepared by committees ap~
pointed for the purpose, and then brought in for the general
assembly to fix and establish what shall be approved by
vote.

LVI. But let not an over-diligent and scrupulous care be
used in reconciling the contradictory titles of laws, by subtile
and far-fetched distinctions ; for this is the weaving of the
wit ; and whatever appearance it may have of modesty and
reverence, it is to be deemed prejudicial, as rendering the
whole body of the laws dissimilar and incoherent. It were,
therefore, much better to suppress the worst, and suffer the
best to stand alone.

LVIL Obsolete laws, that are grown into disuse, should
in the same manner be cancelled. For as an express statute
is not regularly abrogated by disuse, it happens that, from a
contempt of such as are obsolete, the others also lose part of
their authority; whence follows that torture of Mezentius,
whereby the living laws are killed in the embraces of the
dead ones. But above all things a gangrene in the laws is
to be prevented.

LVI1I. And let courts of equity have a right of decreeing
contrary to obsolete laws and statutes not newly enacted ;
for although, as is well observed, nobody should be wisei
than the laws, yet this should be understood of the law?
when they are awake, and not when they sleep. But let it
be the privilege, not of judges in the courts of equity, but oi
kings, solemn councils, and the higher powers, to overrule
later statutes found prejudicial to public justice, and to sus
pend the execution thereof by edicts or public acts, till those
meetings are held which have the true power of repealing
them, lest otherwise the safety of the people should be en
dangered.

358 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VJIL

New digests of laws.

LIX. But if laws heaped upon laws shall 'well to such
a vast bulk, and labour under such confusion as renders it
expedient to treat them anew, and reduce them into one
sound and serviceable corps, it becomes a work ol the utmost
importance, deserving to be deemed heroical, and let the
authors of it be ranked among legislators, and the restorers
of states and empires.

LX. Such an expurgation and new digest of laws is to
be effected by five particulars ; viz., 1. By omitting all the
obsolete laws, which Justinian calls ancient fables; 2. By
receiving the most approved contradictories, and abolishing
the rest; 3. By expunging laws of the same purport, and
retaining only one, or the most perfect; 4. By throwing out
such laws as determine nothing — only propose questions, and
leave them undecided; 5. And lastly, by contracting and
abridging those that are too verbose and prolix.

LXI. And it would be very useful in such a new digest,
separately to range and bring together all those laws received
for common law which have a kind of immemorial origin,
and on the other side the statutes superadded from time to
time ; because in numerous particulars in the practice of the
law, the interpretation and administration of the common
law differs from the statute law. And this method was ob
served by Trebonianus in his digest and code.

LXII. But in such a second birth of the law, and such a
reconcilement of the ancient books and laws, the very words
and text of the law itself should be retained ; and though it
were necessary to collect them by fragments and small por
tions, they may afterwards be regularly wove together. For
allowing it might perhaps be more commodious, and with
regard to the true reason of the thing, better, to do it by a
new text than by such kind of patchwork, yet in the law,
style and description are not so much to be regarded as
authority, and its patron antiquity; otherwise this might
rather seem a work of mere scholarship and method than a
corps of majestic laws.

LXIII. 'Twere advisable, in making this new digest, not
utterly to abolish the ancient volumes, and give them up to
oblivion, but suffer them at least to remain in some library,
though \vith a prohibition of their common use; because in

CHAP. III.] CAUSES OP OBSCURITY IN LAWS. 359

weighty cases it might be proper to consult and inspect the
revolutions and series of ancient laws. "Tis also a solemn
thing to intermix antiquity with things present. And such
a new body of laws ought to receive the sanction of all those
who have any legislative power in the state, lest under a pre
tence of digesting the old laws new ones should be secretly
obtruded.

LXIV. 'Twere to be wished that such a recompilement
of the laws might be undertaken in such times as excel the
ancient (whose acts and works they model anew) in point of
learning and universal knowledge '} the contrary whereof
happened in the work of Justinian. For 'tis an unfortunate
thing to have the works of the ancients mangled, and set
together again at the discretion and choice ot a less prudent
and less learned age. But it often happens that what ia
necessary is not best.

Obscure and involved exposition ol laws.

LXV. Laws are obscurely described either, — 1. through
their loquacity and superfluity of words; 2. through over-
conciseness ; or, 3. through their preambles contradicting
the body of the law.

LXVI. We at present treat of the obscurity which arises
from their ill description, and approve not the loquacity and
prolixity now used in drawing up the laws, which in no
degree obtains what is intended by it, but rather the con
trary; for whilst it endeavours to comprehend and express
all particular cases in apposite and proper diction (as expect
ing greater certainty from thence), it raises numerous ques
tions about terms, which renders the true and real design
of the law more difficult to come at through a huddle of
words.

LXYII. Nor yet can we approve of a too concise and
•\tfected brevity, used for the sake of majesty and authority,
especially in this age ; lest the laws should become like tho
Lesbian rule.u A mediocrity, therefore, is to be observed,

11 The Lesbians are said to have made their rules from their buildings ;
BO that it the buildings were erroneous, the rules they worked by became
no too, and thus propagated the error : so ii the laws were written con
cise, as ii drawn up in perfect times, or with an affectation of a sen
tentious or majestic brevity, they might propagate errors, instead of
correcting them.

360 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII,

and a well-defined generality of words to be found, wliich
though it does not accurately explain the cases it compre
hends, yet clearly excludes those it does not comprehend.

LXVIII. Yet in the ordinary politic laws and edicts,
•where lawyers are seldom consulted, but the politicians trust
to their own judgment, things ought to be largely ex
plained and pointed out to the capacity of the vulgar.

LXIX. Nor do we approve of tedious preambles at the
head of laws : they were anciently held impertinent, as in
troducing laws in the way of dispute, not in the way of
command. But as we do not suit ourselves to the manners
of the ancients, these prefaces are now generally used of
necessity, not only as explanations, but as persuasives to the
passing of the law in the assemblies of states, and likewise
to satisfy the people ; yet as much as possible let preambles
be avoided, and the law begin with commanding.

LXX. Though the intent and mind of the law may be
sometimes drawn from these preambles, yet its latitude and
extent should by no means be derived from them ; for the
preamble frequently fixes upon a few of the more plausible
and specious particulars, by way of example, whilst the law
itself contains many more; or on the contrary, the law re
strains and limits many things, the reason whereof it were
not necessary to insert in the preamble ; wherefore the
extent of the law is to be derived from the body of the law,
the preamble often exceeding or falling short of this extent.

LXXI. There is one very faulty method of drawing up
the laws, viz., when the case is largely set forth in the pre
amble, and then by the force of the word which, or some
such relative, the body of the law is reflected back upon the
preamble, and the preamble inserted and incorporated in the
body of the law ; whence proceed both obscurity and danger,
because the same care is riot usually employed in weighing
and examining the words of the preamble, as the words of
the law itself.

Different methods of expounding laws and solving doubts,

LXXII. There are five ways of interpreting the law, and

making it clear; viz., 1. by recording of judgments; 2. by

instituting authentic writers ; 3. by auxiliary books; 4. by

readings; and, 5. by the answers or counsel of qrilified

CHAP III.] DIRECTIONS FOB REPORTING JUDGMENTS. 361

persons. A due use of all these affords a great and ready
assistance in clearing the laws oi their obscurity.

Eeports of judgments.

LXXIII. And above all, let the judgments of the supreme
and principal courts be diligently and iaithially recorded,
especially in weighty causes, and particularly such as are
doubtful, or attended with difficulty or novelty. For judg
ments are the anchors of the laws, as laws are the anchor.!
of states.

LXXIV. And let this be the method of taking them
down: — 1. Write the case precisely, and the judgments ex
actly, at length; 2. Add the reasons alleged by the judges
for their judgment ; 3. Mix not the authority of cases,
brought by way of example, with the principal case ; 4. And
for the pleadings, unless they contain anything very extraor
dinary, omit them.

LXXV. Let those who take down these judgments be
of the most learned counsel in the law, and have a liberal
stipend allowed them by the public. But let not the judges
meddle in these reports, lest, favouring their own opinions
too much, or relying upon their own authority, they exceed
the bounds of a recorder.

LXXVI. Let these judgments be digested in the order of
time, and not in method and titles ; for such writings are a
kind of histories or narratives of the laws ; and not only the
acts themselves, but also their times, afford light to a prudent
judge.

Authentic writers.

LXXYII. Let a body of law be wholly compiled, 1. of
the laws that constitute the common law ; 2. of the statutes ;
and, 3. of the judgments on record : and besides these, let
nothing be deemed authentic, or else be sparingly received.

LXXVIII. Nothing conduces more to the certainty of
laws, whereof we now speak, than that the authentic writings
should be kept within moderate bounds ; and that vast mul
titude of authors and learned men in the law excluded,
which otherwise rend the mind of the laws, distract the
iudge, make lawsuits endless : and the lawyer himself, find
ing it impossible to peruse and digest so many books, henc«
takes up with compendiums. Perhaps some good g! >ssary, 9

862 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII.

few of the exactest wnters, or rather a very lew portions of
a lew authors, might be useiully received lor authentic. But
let the books be still reserved in libraries, for the judges and
counsel to inspect occasionally, without permitting them to
be cited in pleading at the bar, or suffering them to pass into
authority.

Auxiliary writings.

LXXIX. But let not the knowledge and practice of the
law want its auxiliary books, which are of six kinds; viz., 1. In
stitutes; 2. Explanations of words ; 3. The rules ol law; 4. The
antiquities oi law ; 5. Summaries or abridgments ; and
6. Forms of pleading.

LXXX. Students are to be trained up to the knowledge
and higher parts of the law by institutes, which should be
written in a clear method. Let the whole of private right, ol
the laws of Meum and Tuum, be gone over in these elements,
not omitting some things and dwelling too much upon others,
but giving a little taste of all, that when the student comes
to peruse the corps of law, he may meet with nothing
entirely new, or without having received some previous
notion thereof. But the public law is not to be touched in
these institutes, this being to be drawn from the fountains
themselves.

LXXXI. Let a commentary be made of the terms of the
law, without endeavouring too curiously and laboriously to
give their full sense and explanation ; the purport hereol
being not to search the exact definitions of terms, but to
afford such explanations only as may open an easy way to
reading the books of the law. And let not this treatise be
digested alphabetically, — rather leave that to the index ; but
place all those words together which relate to the same
thing, so that one may help to the understanding of another.

LXXXII. It principally conduces to the certainty of
laws, to have a just and exact treatise of the different rules
of law ; a work deserving the diligence of the most ingenious
and prudent lawyers ; for we are not satisfied with what is
already extant of this kind. Not only the known and com
mon rules are to be here collected, but others also, more
subtile and latent, which may be drawn from the harmony
of laws and adjudged cases ; such as are sometimes found in
the best records. And these rules or maxims are general

CHAP. III.] ORDERLY DIGESTS RECOMMENDED. 363

dictates of reason running through the different matters of
law, and make, as it were, its ballast.

LXXXIII. But let not the positions or placets of law be
taken for rules, as they usually are, very injudiciously ; lor if
this were received, there would be as many rules as there are
laws : a law being no other than a commanding rule. But
let those be held for rules which cleave to the very iorm of
justice ; whence in general the same rules are iound through
the civil law of different states, unless they sometimes vary
with regard to the form of government.

LXXXIV. After the rule is laid down in a short and
solid expression, let examples and clear decisions oi cases be
subjoined by way of explanation ; distinctions and excep
tions by Way of limitation ; and things of the same kind by
way of amplification to the rule.

LXXXV. It is justly directed not to take laws from
rules, but to make the rules from the laws in being : neither
must the proof be derived from the words of the rule, as if
that were the text of the law ; for the rule, like the magnetic
needle, does not make, but indicate the law.

LXXXVI. Besides the body of the law, it is proper to
take a view of the antiquities of laws, which, though they
have lost their authority, still retain their reverence. Those
writings upon laws and judgments, whether published or un
published, are to be held for antiquities ot law, which pre
ceded the body of the laws in point of time ; for these
antiquities should not be lost, but the most useful of them
being collected, and such as are frivolous and impertinent
rejected, they should be brought into one volume without
mixing ancient fables, as Treboninaus calls them, with the
laws themselves.

LXXXVII. But for practice, 'tis highly proper to have
the whole law orderly digested under heads and titles,
whereto any one may occasionally turn on a sudden, as to a
storehouse furnished for present use. These summaries bring
into order what lay dispersed, and abridge what was diffusive
and prolix in the law. But care must be had lest these
abridgments should make men ready for practice, and in
dolent in the science itself ; for their office is to serve but as
remembrancers, and not as perfect teachers of the law. And
they are to be made with great diligence fidelity, and judg-

364 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK VIII.

ment, that they may fairly represent, and not steal from the
laws.

LXXXVIII. Let different forms of pleading be collected
in every kind, for this tends to practice ; and doubtless they
lay open the oracles and mysteries of the law, which conceals
many such. And these are better and more fully displayed
in forms of pleading than otherwise, as the hand is better
seen when opened.

Answers and consultations.

LXXXIX. Some method ought to be taken for solving
and putting an end to particular doubts which arise from
time to time ; for it is a hard thing, if they who desire to
keep clear of error, should find no one to set them right, but
that their actions must be still endangered, without any
means of knowing the law, before the case is determined.

XC. But we approve not that the answers of prudent
men, whether counsellors or professors of law, given to such
as ask their advice, should have so great authority, as that
the judge might not lawfully depart from their opinion. Let
points of law be taken from sworn judges.

XCI. We approve not that judgments should be tried by
feigned causes and persons, with a view to predetermine what
will be the rule of law ; for this dishonours the majesty of
laws, and should be judged as a prevarication. Besides, 'tis
monstrous for judgments to copy the stage.

XCII. Therefore let as well judgments as answers and
advice proceed from none but the judges, the former in suits
depending, and the latter in the way of opinion upon difficult
points of law. But these notices, whether in private or public
affairs, are not to be expected from the judges themselves,
for that were to make the judge a pleader ; but from the
prince or state : and let them recommend it to the judges,
who, invested with such authority, are to hear the arguments
on both sides, and the pleadings of the counsel employed
either by those whom it concerns, or appointed by the judges
themselves if necessary \ and after the matter is weighed, let
the judges declare the law, and give their opinion ; and such
kind of opinions should be recorded and published among
iudged cases, and be reckoned of equal authority with
them.

CHAP. III.1 CAUSES OF UNCERTAIN JUDGMENTS. 365

Prelections.

XCIII. Let the readings upon the law, and the exercises
of such as study it, be so instituted and ordered, that all
things may tend to the resolving and putting an end, and
not to the raising and maintaining of questions and contro
versies in the law. But at present a school seems everywhere
opened for multiplying disputes, wranglings, and altercations
about the laws, in the way of showing the wit of the dis
putants ; though this is also an ancient evil, for it was
esteemed a piece of glory of old to support numerous questions
of la.w, as it were by sects and fashions, rather than to end
them. But this ought to be prevented.

Instability of judgments.

XCIV. Judgments prove uncertain, either 1. through an
untimely and hasty passing of sentence j 2. the emulation of
courts ; 3. a wrong and unskilful recording of judgments ;
or, 4. through a too easy and ready way opened for their
reversion. Therefore let care be taken, 1. that judgments
proceed upon mature deliberation ; 2. that courts preserve a
due reverence for each other ; 3. that judgments be faithfully
and prudently recorded ; and 4. that the way for reversing
of judgments be made narrow, craggy, and thorny.

XCV. If judgment be given upon a case in any principal
court, and a like case come into another court, proceed not
to judgment before a consultation be held in some considerable
assembly of the judges. For if decrees are of necessity to be
cut off, at least let them be honourably interred.

XCVI. For courts to quarrel and contend about jurisdic
tion is a piece of human frailty, and the more, because of a
childish opinion, that it is the duty of a good and able judge
to enlarge the jurisdiction of his court ; whence this dis
order is increased, and the spur made use of instead of the
bridle. But that courts, through this heat of contention
should on all sides uncontrollably reverse each other's decrees
which belong not to jurisdiction, is an intolerable evil, and
by all means to be suppressed by kings, the senate, or the
government. For it is a most pernicious example that courts,
which make peace among the subjects, should quarrel among
themselves.

XOVII. Let not too easy a passage be opened for the TO*

366 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK VIII.

pealing of sentence by appeal, writ of error, rehearing, &c.
Home are ot opinion, that a cause should be removed to a
higher court as a new cause, and the judgment given
upon it in the lower be entirely laid aside and suspended ;
whilst others again would have the judgment remain in its
force, and only the execution to be stopped. We approve
of neither, unless the court where the sentence passed were
of a very inferior nature ; but would rather have both the
judgment stand and its execution proceed, provided a caveat
be put in by the deiendant for costs and damages if the sen
tence should be reversed.

Let this title, oi the certainty of laws, serve for a specimen
oi that digest we propose, and have in hand.* And thus we
conclude the head of civil doctrine, and with it human philo
sophy ; as with human philosophy, philosophy in general.

And now standing still to breathe, and look back upon the
way we have passed, we seem all along to have been but
tuning and trying the instruments of the muses, for a con
cert to be played upon them by other hands ; or to have
been grating men's ears, that they may have the better music
hereafter. And indeed, when I set before me the present
state of the times, wherein learning makes her third visit
to mankind ;y and carefully reflect how well she finds us pre
pared and furnished with all kinds of helps, the sublimity and
penetration of many geniuses of the age, those excellent monu
ments of the ancient writings which shine as so many great
lights before us ; the art of printing, which largely supplies
men of all fortunes with books ; the open traffic of the globe,2
both by sea and land, whence we receive numerous experi
ments, unknown to former ages, and a large accession to the
mass of natural history ; the leisure which the greatest minds
in the kingdoms and provinces of Europe everywhere enjoy,
as being less immersed in business than the ancient Greeks,
by reason of their populous states ; or the Romans, through
the extensiveness of their empire \ the peace at present

x Though the design itseli was not executed by the author, some pro
gress was made in the history of the nature, use, and proceedings of the
laws ol England. Shaw.

y Alluding only to the two famous ones, among the Greeks and
Romans.

* He might have added the discovery of a new world. £d.

CHAP. 111.] BRIGHT PROSPECTS FOR SCIENCE. 367

spread over Britain, Spain, Italy, France, and many other
countries ; the exhaustion oi all that can be invented or said
in religious controversies,3 which have so long diverted many
of the best geniuses ii-om the study of other arts ; the un
common, learning of his present Britannic maiesty, about
whom, as about a phoenix, the fine geniuses flock irom all
quarters ; and lastly, the inseparable property ot time, which
is daily to disclose truth : when all these things, I say, are
considered by us, we cannot but be raised into a persuasion
that this third period of learning may iar exceed the two
former of the Greeks and Romans, provided only that men
would well and prudently understand their own powers and
the delects thereof ; receive from each other the lamps oi in
vention, and not the firebrands of contradiction ; and esteem
the search after truth as a certain noble enterprise, not a
thing of delight or ornament, and bestow their wealth and
magnificence upon matters of real worth and excellence, not
upon such as are vulgar and obvious. As to my own labours,
if any one shall please himself or others in reprehending
them, let him do it to the full, provided he observe the
ancient request, and weigh and consider what he says —
"Verbera, sed audi."b And certainly the appeal is just,
though the thing perhaps may not require it, from men's first
thoughts to their second, and from the present age to pos
terity.

We come, lastly, to that science which the two former
periods of time were not blessed with ; viz., sacred and in
spired theology : the sabbath of all our labours and peregri
nations.

• This is spoken like one who was versed in ecclesiastical history, and
polemical divinity ; for scarce any religious dispute is now raised, that
has not been previously contested : but many have found the art, by
heat and warmth, to revive old doctrines, opinions, and heresies, and
pass them upon the crowd lor new ; rekindling the firebrands of their
ancestors, as if religious controversies were to be entailed upon mar-
kind, and descend b om one generation to another. Ed.

k Themistocles to Eury blades. Plut. Reg. et Iinper. Apop

368 ADVANCEMENT 0? LEARNING. [BOOK IX.

NINTH BOOK.

The Compartments ol Theology omitted. Three Deficiencies pointed
out. The Right Use of Reason in Matters oi Faith. The Know
ledge of the Degrees of Unity in the City of God. The Emanations
of the Holy Scriptures.

HAVING now, excellent king, with our small bark of
knowledge, sailed over, and surrounded the globe of the
sciences, as well the old world as the new (let posterity judge
with what success), we should pay our vows and conclude ;
did there not still remain another part to be viewed ; viz.,
sacred or inspired theology. But if we were disposed to
survey it, we must quit the small vessel of human i eason, and
put ourselves on board the ship of the Church, which alone
possesses the divine needle for justly shaping the course.
Nor will the stars of philosophy, that have hitherto princi
pally lent their light, be of farther service to us ; and, therefore,
it were not improper to be silent, also, upon this subject, as
well as upon that of government. For which reason, we
will omit the just distribution of it, and only contribute,
according to our slender ability, a few particulars in the way
of good wishes. And this we do the rather, because we find
no tract in the whole region of divinity, that is absolutely
deserted or uncultivated : so great has the diligence of men
been, in sowing either wheat or tares. We shall, therefore,
only propose three appendages of theology; treating not
of the matter already formed, or to be formed by divinity,
but only of the manner of forming it. Neither will we here,
as we have hitherto practised, give any sketches, annex any
specimens, or lay down any precepts for these treatises ; but
leave all this to divines.

The prerogative of God extends over the whole man, and
reaches both to his will and his reason ; so that man must
absolutely renounce himself, and submit to God : and there
fore, as we are obliged to obey the divine law, though our
will murmur against it, so are we obliged to believe the
word of God, though our reason be shocked at it. For if
we should believe only such things as are agreeable to our
reason, we assent to the matter, and not to the author :

BOOK IX.] FAITH ABOVE KNOWLEDGE. 369

which is no more than we do to a suspected witness. But
the faith imputed to Abraham for righteousness consisted in
a. particular, laughed at by Sarah,a who, in that respect, was
an image of the natural reason. And, therefore, the more
absurd and incredible any divine mystery is, the greater
honour we do to God in believing it ; and so much the more
noble the victory of faith : as sinners, the more they are
oppressed in conscience, yet relying upon the mercy of God
for salvation, honour him the more ; for all despair is a kind
of reproaching the deity. And if well considered, belief is
more worthy than knowledge ; such knowledge, I mean, as
we have at present : for in knowledge, tire human mind is
acted upon by sense, which results from material things ; but
in faith, the spirit is affected by spirit, which is the more
worthy agent. It is otherwise in the state of glory : ior,
then, faith shall cease, and we shall know as we are known. b
Let us, therefore, conclude, that sacred theology must be
drawn from the word and oracles of God ; c not from the
light of nature, or the dictates of reason. It is written, that
" the heavens declare the glory of God :" but we nowhere
find it, that the heavens declare the will of God, which is
pronounced a law, and a testimony, that men should do
according to it, &c. Nor does this hold only in the great
mysteries of the Godhead, of the creation, and 01 the redemp
tion, but belongs, also, to the true interpretation of the
moral law. " Love your enemies, do good to them that hate
you," ifcc., " that ye may be the children of your heavenly
father, who sends his rain upon the just and the unjust."*'
Which words are more than human, —

" Nee vox hominem sonat."e

and go beyond the light of nature. So the heathen poets,
especially when they speak pathetically, frequently expostu
late with laws and moral doctrines, (though these arc far
more easy and indulgent than divine laws), as if they had a
kind of malignant opposition to the freedom of nature, —

" Et quod natura remittit

Invida jura negant."'

according to the expression of Dendamis, the Indian, to the
messengers of Alexander; viz., " That he had heard, indeed,

• Gen. xviii. » 1 Cor. xiii. 12. c Psal. xviii, 2.

* Matt. v. 44, 4i>, • ^Eneid, i. 332. l Ovid, Metara. * 330.

370 ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. [BOOK IX,

some what of Pythagoras, and the other wise men ot Greece,
and believed them to have been great men ; but that they
held a certain fantastical thing, which they called law and
morality, in too great veneration and esteem." s "We cannot
doubt, therefore, that a large part of the moral law is too
•sublime to be attained by the light of nature : though it is
still certain, that men, even from the light and law of nature,
have some notions of virtue, vice, justice, wrong, good, and
evil.

We must observe, that the light of nature has two signi
fications ; 1. as it arises from sense, induction, reason, and
argument, according to the laws of heaven and earth ; and
2. as it shines in the human mind, by internal instinct,
according to the law of conscience, which is a certain spark,
and, as it were, a relique of our primitive purity. And in
this latter sense, chiefly, the soul receives some light, for
beholding and discerning the perfection of the moral law ;
though this light be not perfectly clear, but of such a nature
as rather to reprehend vice than give a full information of
duty; whence religion, both with regard to mysteries and
morality, depends upon divine revelation.

Yet the use of human reason in spiritual things is various,
and very extensive : for religion is justly called a reasonable
service.1' The types and ceremonies of the old law were
rational and significative, differing widely from the cere
monies of idolatry and magic : which are a kind of deaf and
dumb show, and generally uninstructive even by inuendo.
But the Christian faith, as in all things else, excels in this,
that it preserves the golden mean in the use of reason, and
dispute the child of reason, between the laws of the heathens
and of Mahomet, which go into extremes : for the heathen
religion had no constant belief or confession, and the Maho
metan forbids all disputes in religion :* whence one appears
with the face of manifold error, the other as a crafty

s StraLo, xv. b St. Paul, Rom. xii. 1.

1 This is erroneous. The Mohammedan religion, though not divided
into so many churches as the Christian, is, notwithstanding, disturbed by
the cry of conflicting parties under the generic titles of Soonees and
Sheeahs ; the former comprise the orthodox, the latter the heretics.
It is needless to add that the hatred of the rival sects is most cordial
and intense. Ed.

BOOK IX.] USE OF BEASON IN RELIGION. 371

and subtile imposture ; whilst the sacred Christian faith both
receives and rejects the use of reason and dispute under due
limitation.1*

The use of human reason in matters of religion is of two
kinds ; the one consisting in the explanation of mysteries,
the other in the deductions from them. As to the expla
nation of mysteries, we find that God himself condescends to
the weakness of our capacity, and opens his mysteries, so as
they may be best understood by us ; inoculating, as it were,
his revelations into the notions and comprehensions of our
reason, and accommodating his inspirations to the opening
of our understanding, as a key is fitted to open the lock.
Though, in this respect, we should not be wanting to our
selves : for as God makes use of our reason in his illumi
nations, so ought we likewise to exercise it every way, in
order to become more capable of receiving and imbibing
mysteries ; provided the mind be enlarged, according to its
capacity, to the greatness of the mysteries, and not the
mysteries contracted to the narrowness of the mind.

With regard to inferences, we must know that we have
a certain secondary and respective, not a primitive and
absolute, use of reason and arguing left us about mysteries.
For after the articles and principles of religion are so seated,
as to be entirely removed from the examination ot reason,
we are then permitted to draw inferences from them, agree
able to their analogy. But this holds not in natural things,
where principles themselves are subject to examination by
induction, though not by syllogism, and have, besides, no
repugnancy to reason : so that both the first and middle
propositions are derivable from the same fountain. It is
otherwise in religion, where the first propositions are self-
existent, and subsist of themselves, uncontrolled by that
reason which deduces the subsequent propositions. Nor is
this the case in religion alone, but likewise in other sciences,
as well the serious as the light, where the primary propo
sitions are postulated : as things wherein the use of reason
cannot be absolute. Thus in chess, or other games of the
like nature, the first rules and laws of the play are merely
positive postulates, which ought to be entirely received, not

k Hooker, EcrV>s. Polit
ft a3

372 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNINO [BOOK IX,

disputed : but the skilful playing of the game is a matter of
art and reason. So, in human laws, there are numerous
maxims, or mere placits of law received, which depend more
upon authority than reason, and come not into dispute. But,
then, for the inquiry, what is not absolutely, but relatively
most just herein : viz., in conformity with those maxims ;
this, indeed, is a point of reason, and affords a large field for
dispute. Such, therefore, is that secondary reason which
has place in sacred theology, and is founded upon the good
pleasure of God.

And as the use of human reason, in things divine, is of
two kinds, so it is attended with two excesses : 1. the one,
when it too curiously inquires into the manner of a mystery ;
2. the other, when it attributes an equal authority to the
inference as to the principles. For he may seem a disciple
of Nicodemus, who shall obstinately enquire, " How can a
man be born when he is old 1 " l But he can be esteemed
no disciple of St. Paul, who does not sometimes insert in his
doctrine, " I, not the Lord," or, according to my judgment,™
which is the style that generally suits with inferences.
Whence it seems a thing of capital use and benefit, to have
a sober and diligent treatise wrote concerning the proper
use of human reason in divinity, by way of a divine logic.
For this would be like an opiate in medicine ; and not only
lay asleep those empty speculations which sometimes disturb
the schools, but also allay that fury of controversy which
raises such tumults in the church. This treatise, therefore,
we place among the things that are wanted, under the name
of the Moderator, or the true Use of human Reason in
Theology.

It is of the utmost importance to the peace of the church,
to have the covenant of Christians prescribed by our Saviour
in two particulars that seem somewhat contradictory, well
and clearly explained; the one whereof runs thus : " He who
is not with us is against us;"n and the other thus: " He
who is not against us is for us ;" ° whence it plainly appears,
that there are some points wherein he who differs is to be
excluded the covenant ; and others again, wherein Christians
may differ, and yet keep terms. The bonds of the Christian

John iii. 4, w 1 Cor. vii. 12. " Matt, »J *0, »nd Luke ri. 23,
« Luk^, ix. 50,

BDOK i£.] METllOC IN iSTEIiPftfiflNd SCRiPTT.tE. 3?3

communion are, one faith, one baptism,? <fec., not one cere
mony, one opinion, &c. Our Saviour's coat was seamless ; Q
but the garment of the church of many colours. The chart
must be separated from the wheat, but the tares in the field
are not to be hastily plucked up from the corn. Moses,
when he saw the Egyptian contending with the Israelite,
did not say, " Why strive ye?" but drew his sword, and
killed the Egyptian ; but when he saw two Israelites fight
ing together, though the cause of one of them might have
been unjust, yet he says to them, " Ye are brethren, why
strive ye?"r All which being well considered, it seems a
thing of great use and moment to define what, and of how
great latitude those matters are, which totally cut off men
from the body of the church, and exclude them the commu
nion of the faithful. And if any one shall imagine this done
already, we advise him seriously to reflect, with what justice
and moderation. Buu li is highly probable, that whoever
speaks of peace will meet with that answer of Jehu to the
messenger : " What has peace to do with Jehu ? — What
hast thou to do with peace 1 — Turn, and follow me." • For the
hearts of most men are not set upon peace, but party. And
yet we think proper to place among the things wanting, a
discourse upon the degrees of unity in the city of God, as a
wholesome and useful undertaking.

The holy Scriptures having so great a share in the consti
tution of theology, a principal regard must be had to their
interpretation. We speak not of the authority of inter
preting, established by the consent of the church, but of the
manner of interpreting, which is either methodical or loose.
For the pure waters of divinity are drawn and employed,
nearly in the same manner as the natural waters of springs ;
viz., 1. either received in cisternc, and thence derived through
different pipes, for the more commodious use of men ; or
2. immediately poured into vessels for present occasions.
The former methodical way has produced the scholastic divi
nity, whereby the doctrine of theology is collected into an
art, as in a cistern ; and thence distributed around, by the
conveyance of axioms and positions.

But the loose way of interpreting has two excesses : the

9 St. Paul, Eph. ix. 51. •» St. John xix. 23. ' Exodus ii. 13.
* 4 Kings ix. 19.

374 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOR IX.

ohe supposes such a perfection in the Scriptures, that all
philosophy should be derived from their fountains, as if every
other philosophy were a profane and heathenish thing. And
this distemper principally reigned in the school of Paracelsus,
and some others, though originally derived from the rabbies
and cabbalists. But these men fail of their end \ for they
do not, by this means, honour the Scriptures as they imagine,
but rather debase and pollute them. For they who seek a
material heaven, and a material earth, in the word, of God,
absurdly seek for transitory things among eternal. To look
for theology in philosophy is looking for the living among
the dead, and to look for philosophy in theology is to look
for the dead among the living.

The other excess, in the manner of interpretation, appears,
at first sight, just and sober ; yet greatly dishonours the
Scriptures, and greatly injures the church, by explaining the
inspired writings in the same manner as human writings are
explained. For we must remember, that to God, the author of
the Scriptures, those two things lie open which are concealed
from men ; the secrets of the heart, and the successions ol time.
Therefore, as the dictates of Scripture are directed to the
heart, and include the vicissitudes of all ages, along with an
eternal and certain foreknowledge of all heresies, contradic
tions, and the mutable states of the church, as well in general
as in particulars, these Scriptures are not to be interpreted
barely according to the obvious sense of the place, or with
regard to the occasion upon which the words were spoken,
or precisely by the context, or the principal scape of the
passage, but upon a knowledge of their containing, not only
in gross or collectively, but also distributively, in particular
words and clauses, numberless rivulets and veins of doctrine,
for watering all the parts of the church and all the minds of
the faithful. For it is excellently observed, that the answers
of our Saviour are not suited to many of the questions pro
posed to him, but appear, in a manner, impertinent : and
this for two reasons, 1. because, as he knew the thoughts of
those who put the question, not from their words as men
know them, but immediately, and of himself, he answered to
their thoughts, and not to their words ; and 2. because he
Bpoke not to those alone who were present, but to us, also,
uow living, and to the men of every age and place, where

BOOK IX.] CONCLUSION. 3? 5

the gospel shall be preached. And this observation holds in
other parts of Scripture.

We find, among theological writings, too many books of
controversy ; a vast mass of that we call positive theology,
common-places, particular treatises, cases of conscience, ser
mons, homilies, and numerous prolix comments upon the
several books of the Scriptures : but the thing we want and
propose, as our third appendix to theology, is, a short, sound,
and judicious collection ot notes and observations upon par
ticular texts oi Scripture ; without running into common
place, pursuing controversies, or reducing these notes to
artificial method ; but leaving them quite loose and native —
a thing we find something done in the more learned kind of
sermons, which are seldom of long duration, though it has
not hitherto prevailed in books designed for posterity. But
certainly, as those wines which flow from the first treading
of the grape are sweeter and better than those forced out by
the press, which gives them the roughness of the husk and
the stone; so are those doctrines best and wholesomest,
which flow from a gentle crush ol the Scripture, and are not
wrung into controversies and common- place. And this trea
tise we set down as wanting, under the title of the first
Sowings of the Scriptures.

And now we have finished our small globe of the intellec
tual world with all the exactness we could, marking out and
describing those parts of it which we find either not con
stantly inhabited or not sufficiently cultivated. And if
through the course of the work we should anywhere seem to
depart from the opinion of the ancients, we would have it
remembered that this is not done for the sake of novelty, or
striking into different paths from them, but with a desire of
improving; for we could neither act consistently with our
selves nor the design, without resolving to add all we could
to the inventions of others, at the same time wishing that
our own discoveries may be exceeded by those of posterity
And how fairly we have dealt in this matter may appear from
hence, that our opinions are everywhere proposed naked and
undefended, without endeavouring to bribe the liberty ot
others by confutations ; lor where the things advanced prove
just, we hope that ii any scruple or objection arise in tho first
reading, an answer will of itself be made in the second, And

376 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [nOCK IX.

wn-'rever we Lave erred, we are certain to have done no
violence to the truth by litigious arguments, the effect
whereof is the procuring authority to error, and detracting
from what is well invented ; for error receives honour and
truth a repulse from contention.

And here I cannot but reflect how appositely that answer
of Themistocles may be applied to myself which he made to
the deputy of a small village haranguing upon great things,
" Friend, thy words require a city." For so it may be said oi
my views, that they require an age, perhaps a whole age, to
prove, and numerous ages to execute. But as the greatest
things are owing to their beginnings, it will be enough for
me to have sown for posterity, and the honour of the Im
mortal Being, whom I humbly entreat, through his Son, our
Saviour, favourably to accept these, and the like sacrifices of
the human understanding, seasoned with religion, and offered
up to his glory !

THE COAST OF THE NEW INTELLECTUAL WORLD;

OR, A RECAPITULATION OF THE DEFICIENCIES OF KNOWLEDGE, POINTED
OUT IN THE PRECEDING WORK, TO BE SUPPLIED BY POSTERITY.

THE History of Monsters ; or irregular productions of
nature, in all the three kingdoms, — vegetable, animal, and
mineral.

The History of Arts ; or nature formed and wrought by
human industry.

A well-purged History of Nature in her extent; or the
phenomena of the universe.

Inductive History; or historical matters consequentially
deduced from phenomena, facts, observations, experiments,
arts, and the active sciences.

An Universal Literary History ; or the affairs relating to
learning and knowledge, in all ages and countries of the
world.

Biography ; or the lives of all eminent persona.

The History of Prophecy; or the accomplishment of Di-

BOOK IX.] DEFICIENCIES OP KNOWLEDGE. 377

vine predictions, to serve as a guide in the interpretation of
prophecies.

The Philosophy of the Ancient Fables ; or a just inter
pretation of the mythology of the ancients.

Primary Philosophy; or a collection of general axioms,
subservient to all the sciences.

Physical Astronomy ; or a philosophical history of the
heavens.

A Just Astrology; or the real effects of the celestial
bodies upon the terrestrial.

A Calendar of Doubts; or natural problems, to be con
tinued through all ages, along with a calendar of vulgar
errors.

A Collection of the Opinions of the Ancient Philosophers.

An Inquiry into the Simple Forms of Things; or that
which constitutes their essences and differences.

Natural Magic ; relative to the doctrine of forms.

An Inventory of Knowledge; or an account of the stock
of learning among mankind.

A Calendar of leading Experiments; for the better inter
pretation of nature.

Short and commodious Methods of Calculation, in busi
ness, astronomy, <fec.

The Doctrine of Gesture; or the motions of the body,
with a view to their interpretation.

Comparative Anatomy betwixt different Human Bodies.

A work upon Incurable Diseases, to lessen their number,
and fix a true notion of incurable in medicine.

The Laudable Means of procuring easy Deaths.

A Set of approved and effectual liemedies for Diseases.

The Ways of Imitating Natural Springs and Bath Waters.

The Filum Medicinale; or Physician's Clue in Prescrip
tion.

A Natural Philosophy fundamental to Physic.

The Ways of Prolonging Life.

An Inquiry into the Nature and Substance of th^ sensi
tive Soul.

The Doctrine of Muscular Motion; or the efficacy of the
spirits in moving the body.

The Doctrine of Sense and Sensibility ; or the difference
betwixt perception and sense.

378 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BOOK IX.

An Inquiry into the Origin and Form of Light ; or the
foundation of optics.

The Art of Inventing Arts.

The True Use of Induction in Philosophy.

The Art of Indication or Direction in Philosophy.

A Learned or Sagacious Kind of Experience, different
from the vulgar, and leading to the direct improvement of
arts.

A Particular Topical Invention, directed by the light of
leading questions, or proper heads of inquiry.

The Doctrine of Idols; or a detection and confutation of
the prejudices, false conceptions, and errors of the mind.

A New Engine; or helps for the mind corresponding to
those of the hand.

An Appendix to the Art of Judgment; assigning the
kinds of demonstration proper to every subject.

An Interpretation of the Marks, Signatures, or Impres
sions of things.

A Philosophical Grammar; or an account of the various
properties of different languages, in order to form one per
fect pattern of speech.

The Traditive Lamp ; or the proper method of delivering
down the sciences to posterity.

The Doctrine of Prudence in mivate discourse; or colours
of good and ill.

A Collection of Sophisms, with their confutations.

A Collection of studied Antithets; or short and strong
sentences, on both sides of the question, in a variety of sub
jects.

A Collection of lesser Forms of Speech, for all the occa
sions of writing and speaking.

Sober Satire ; or the insides of things.

The Georgics of the Mind ; or the means of procuring the
true moral habit of virtue.

An Account of the Characters or Natures of Persons.

The Doctrine of the Affections, Passions, or Perturbations
of the Mind.

The Secretary to the Uses of Life; or the doctrine of
various occasions.

The Doctrine of Business ; or books upon all kinds of civil
employments, arts, trades, &c.

BOOK I3LJ DEFICIENCY OF KxoWLEb&E. 379

Self-Policy, the doctrine of rising in life; or the means ol
advancing a man's private fortune.

The Military Statesman : or the political doctrine of en
larging the bounds of empire.

The Doctrine of Universal Justice ; or the fountains of
equity.

The Moderator in Divinity; or the true use of human
reason in the business of revelation.

The Degrees ol Unity in Religion adjusted, with a view
to preserve tho peace of the Church.

The First Flowings of the Scriptures ; or a set of shoi t,
sound, and judicious notes upon particular iox's. lending to
uso and practice.

NOVUM ORGANUM;

OR,

TRUE SUGGESTIONS FOR THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE

PREFACE.

THEY who have presumed to dogmatize on nature, as on some well
investigated subject, either from self-conceit or arrogance, and in the
professorial style, have inflicted the greatest injury on philosophy and
learning. For they have tended to stifle and interrupt inquiry exactly
in proportion as they have prevailed in bringing others to their opinion :
and their own activity has not counterbalanced the mischief they have
occasioned by corrupting and destroying that of others. They again
who have entered upon a contrary course, and asserted that nothing
whatever can be known, whether they have fallen into this opinion from
their hatred of the ancient sophists, or from the hesitation of their
minds, or from an exuberance of learning, have certainly adduced
reasons for it which are by no means contemptible. They have not, how
ever, derived their opinion from true sources, and, hurried on by their
zeal and some affectation, have certainly exceeded due moderation. But
the more ancient Greeks (whose writings have perished), held a more
prudent mean, between the arrogance of dogmatism, and the despair
' of scepticism ; and though too frequently intermingling complaints and
indignation at the difficulty of inquiry, and the obscurity of things, and
champing, as it were, the bit, have still persisted in pressing their point,
and pursuing their intercourse with nature ; thinking, as it seems, that
the better method was not to dispute upon the very point of the possi
bility of anything being known, but to put it to the test of experience.
Yet they themselves, by only employing the power ot the understand
ing, have not adopted a fixed rule, but have laid their whole stress upon
intense meditation, and a continual exercise and perpetual agitation of
the mind.

Our method, though difficult in its operation, is easily explained. Jt

consists in determining the degrees of certainty, whilst we, as it were,

\ •estore the senses to their former rank, but generally reject that opera-

\ "Tujji of ttiL niiiici urmoh folloWTrlrrr upon the senses, and open and

I establish a new and certain course for the mind from the first actual

I perceptions of the senses themselves. This, no doubt, was the view

taken by those who have assigned so much to logic ; showing clearly

thereby that they sought some support for the mind, and suspected its

natural and spontaneous mode of action. But this is now employed too

late aa a remedy, when all is clearly lost, and after the mind, by th«

PREFACE. 381

(Uily habit and intercourse of life, has com?, prepossessed with corrupted
doctrines, and filled with the vainest idols. The art of logic therefore
being (as we have mentioned), too la,te a precaution," and in no way re
medying the matter, has tended more to contirm errors, than to disclose
truth. Our only remaining hope and salvation is to begin the whole
labour of the mind again ; not leaving it to itself, but directing it per
petually from the very first, and attaining our end as it were by mechani
cal aid. If men, for instance, had attempted mechanical labours with
their hands alone, and without the power and aid of Instruments, as they
have not hesitated to carry on the labours of their understanding with
the unaided efforts of their mind, they would have been able to move
and overcome but little, though they had exerted their utmost and
united powers. And just to pause awhile on this comparison, and look
.nto it as a mirror ; let us ask, if any obelisk of a remarkable size were
perchance required to be moved, for the purpose of gracing a triumph
or any similar pageant, and men were to attempt it with their bare
hands, would not any sober spectator avow it to be an act of the
greatest madness? And if they should increase the number of work
men, and imagine that they could thus succeed, would he not think so
still more ? But if they chose to make a selection, and to remove the
weak, and only employ the strong and vigorous, thinking by this means,
at any rate, to achieve their object, would he not say that they were
more fondly deranged ? Nay, if not content with this, they were to
determine on consulting the athletic art, and were to give orders for all
to appear with their hands, arms, and muscles regularly oiled and pre
pared, would he not exclaim that they were taking pains to rave by
method and design ? Yet men are hurried on with the same senseless
energy and useless combination in intellectual matters, as long as they
expect great results either from the number and agreement, or the ex
cellence and acuteness of their wits ; or even strengthen their minds
with logic, which may be considered as an athletic preparation, but vet
do not desist (if we rightly consider the matter) from applying their own
understandings merely with all this zeal and effort. Whilst nothing is
more clear, than that in every great work executed by the hand of man
without machines or implements, it is impossible for the strength of
individuals to be increased, or for that of the multitude to combine.

Having premised so much, we lay down two points on which we
would admonish mankind, lest they should fail to see or to observe them.
The first of these is, that it is our good fortune (as we consider it), for
the sake of extinguishing and removing contradiction and irritation of
mind, to leave the honour and reverence due to the ancients untouched
and undiminished, so that we can perform our intended work, and yet
enjoy the benefit of our respectful moderation. For if we should pro
fess to offer something better than the ancients, and yet should pursue

• Because it was idle to draw a logical conclusion from false princi
ples, error being propagated as much by false premises, which logic does
cot pretend to examine, as by illegitimate inference. Hence, as Bacon
eays farther on, men being easily led to confound legitimate inference
with truth, were confirmed in their errors by the very subtilty of tbeir
genius. Ed.

382 PREFACE.

the same course as they have done, we could never, by any artifice, con
trive to avoid the imputation ot having engaged in a contest or ri\alry
as to our respective wits, excellencies, or talents ; which, though
neither inadmissible or new (for why should we not blame and point
out anything that is imperfectly discovered or laid down by them, of our
own right, a right common to all), yet however just and allowable,
would perhaps be scarcely an equal match, on account oi the dispro
portion of our strength. But since our present plan leads up to open
an entirely different course to the understanding, and one unattempted
and unknown to them, the case is altered. There is an end to party
zeal, and we only take upon ourselves the character ot a guide, which
requires a moderate share of authority and good fortune, rather than
talents and excellence. The first admonition relates to persons, the next
to things.

We make no attempt to disturb the system oi philosophy that now
prevails, or any other which may or will exist, either more correct or
more complete. For we deny not that the received system of philosophy,
and others of a similar nature, encourage discussion, embellish ha
rangues, are employed, and are of service in the duties ot the professor,
and the affairs of civil life. Nay, we openly express and declare that
the philosophy we offer will not be very useful in such respects. It is
not obvious, nor to be understood in a cursory view, nor does it flatter
the mind in its preconceived notions, nor will it descend to the level of
the generality of mankind unless by its advantages and effects.

Let there exist then (and may it be of advantage to both), two
sources, and two distributions af learning, and in like manner two tribes,
and as it were kindred families of contemplators or philosophers, with
out any hostility or alienation between them ; but rather allied and
united by mutual assistance. Let there be in short one method of cul
tivating the sciences, and another of discovering them. And as for
those who prefer and more readily receive the former, on account oi
their haste or from motives arising from their ordinary life, or because
they are unable from weakness of mind to comprehend and embrace the
other (which must necessarily be the case with by far the greater
number), let us wish that they may prosper as they desire in their un
dertaking, and attain what they pursue. But if any individual desire,
and is anxious not merely to adhere to, and make use of present dis
coveries, but to penetrate still further, and not to overcome his
adversaries in disputes, but nature by labour, not in short to give
elegant and specious opinions, but to know to a certainty and demon
stration, let him, as a true son of science (ii such be his wish), joiii with
us ; that when he has left the antichambers ot nature trodden by the
multitude, an entrance may at last be discovered to her inner apart
ments. And in order to be better understood, and to render our
meaning more familiar by assigning determinate names, we have accus
tomed ourselves to call the one method the anticipation 01 the mind,
and the other the interpretation of nature.

We have still one request left. We have at least reflected and taken
pains in order to render our propositions not only true, but of easy and
familiar access to men's minds, however wondenally prepossessed and
limited. Yet it is but just that we should obtain this favour from

BOOK I.J APHORISMS. 383

mankind (especially in so great a restoration of learning and the sciences),
that whosoever may be desirous oi forming any determinatior. upon an
opinion oi this our work either from his own perceptions, or the crowd
of authorities, or the iorms oi demonstrations, he will not expect to be
able to do so in a cursory manner, and whilst attending to other
matters ; but in order to have a thorough knowledge of the subject,
will himself by degrees attempt the course which we describe and
maintain ; will be accustomed to the subtilty of things which is
maniiested by experience ; and will correct the depraved and deeply
rooted habits of his mind by a seasonable, and, as it were, just hesita
tion : and then, finally (if he will), use his judgment when he has begun
to be master of himseli.

APHORISMS.— BOOK I.

On the Interpretation oj Nature and the Empire oj Man.

I. MAN, as the minister and interpreter of Eature, does and
understands as much as his observations on the order of nature,
either with regard to things or the mind, permit him, and
neither knows nor is capable of more.

II. The unassisted hand and the understanding left to itself
possess but little power. Effects are produced by the means of
instruments and helps, which the understanding requires no less
than the hand ; and as instruments either promote or regulate
the motion of the hand, so those that are applied to the mind
prompt or protect the understanding.

III. Knowledge and human power are synonymous, since
the ignorance of the cause frustrates the effect; tor nature is
only subdued by submission, and that which in contemplative
philosophy corresponds with the cause in practical science be
comes the rule.

IV. Man whilst operating can only apply or withdraw natural
bodies, nature internally performs the rest.

V. Those who become practically versed in nature are, the
mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and
the magician* but all (as matters now stand) with faint efforts
and meagre success.

• Bacon uses the term in its ancient sense, and means one who,
knowing the occult properties of bodies, is able to startle the ignorant by
drawing out of them wonderful and unforeseen changes. See the 85th
aphorism of this book, and the 5th cap. book iii. of the De A-agiaentia
Scientiarum, w'lere he speaks more clearly.

384 KOVUM ORGAN UM. [BOOK L

VI. It would be madness and inconsistency to suppose that
things which have never yet been performed can be performed
without employing some hitherto untried means.

VII. The creations of the mind and hand appear very nume
rous, if we judge by books and manufactures ; but all that
variety consists of an excessive refinement, and of deductions
from a few well known matters, — not of a number of axioms .^

VIII. Even the effects already discovered are due to chance
and experiment rather than to the sciences; for our present
sciences are nothing more than peculiar arrangements of matters
already discovered, and not nictj^oda for discovery or plans for
ii ew operations.

IX. The sole cause and root of almost every defect in the
sciences is this, that while we falsely admire and extol the powers
of the human mind, \vg flo rmtsonrrh for j.ts real helps.

X. The subtilty ofnatureisTar beyond that of sense or of the
understanding; so that the specious meditations, speculations,
and theories of mankind are but a kind of insanity, only there is
TIO one to stand by and observe it.

XI. As the present sciences are useless for the discovery of
effects, so the present system of logicc is useless for the discovery
of the sciences.

b By this term axiomata, Bacon here speaks of general principles, or
universal laws. In the ItHh aphorism he employs the term to express
any proposition collected from facts by induction., and thus fitted to
become the starting-point of deductive reasoning. In the last and more
rigorous sense of the term, Bacon held they arose from experience.
See Whewell's " Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences," vol. i. p. 74 ;
and Mill's "Logic," vol. i. p. 311 ; and the June "Quarterly," 1841,
for the modern phase of the discussion. Ed.

c Bacon here attributes to the Aristotelian logic the erroneous conse-
juences which sprung out of its abuse. The demonstrative forms it
exhibits, whether verbally or mathematically expressed, are necessary to
the support, verification, and extension of induction, and when the
propositions they embrace are founded on an accurate and close
observation of facts, tb« conclusions to which they lead, even in moral
-/oience, may be regarded as certain as the facts wrested out of nature
by direct experiment. In physics such forms are absolutely required
to generalize the results of experience, and to connect intermediate
axioms with laws still more general, as is sufficiently attested by the
fact, that no science since Bacon's day has ceased to be experimental by
the mere method of induction, and that all become exact only so far as
they rise above experience, and connect their isolated phenomena with
general laws by the principles of deductive reasoning. So far, theu, are
these forms from being useless, that they are absolutely essential to tbo
advancement of the sciences, and in no case can be looked on as detrimen
tal, except when obtruded in the place of direct experiment, or employ*!
ao a means of deducing conclusions about nature from imaginary

BOOK 1.1 APHORISMS. 385

XII. The present system of logic rather assists in confirming
and rendering inveterate the errors founded on vulgar notions
than in searching after truth, and is therefore more hurtful than
useful.

XIII. The syllogism is not applied to the principles of the
sciences, and is of no avail in intermediate axioms,0 as being very

theses and abstract conceptions. This had been unfortunately the prac
tice of the Greeks. From the rapid development geometry received in
their hands, they imagined the same method would lead to results
equally brilliant in natural science, and snatching up some abstract
principle, which they carefully removed from the test of experiment,
imagined they could reason out from it all the laws and external appear
ances of the universe. The scholastics were impelled along the same
path, not only by precedent, but by profession. Theology was the
only science which received from them a consistent development,
and the d priori grounds on which it rested prevented them from
employing any other method in the pursuit of natural phenomena.
Thus, forms of demonstration, in themselves accurate, and of momentous
value in their proper sphere, became confounded with fable, and led
men into the idea they were exploring truth when they were only
accurately deducing error from error. One principle ever so slightly
deflected, like a false quantity in an equation, could be sufficient to
infect the whole series of conclusions of which it was the base ; and
though the philosopher might subsequently deduce a thousand consecu
tive inferences with the utmost accuracy or precision, he would only
succeed in drawing out very methodically nine hundred and ninety-nine
errors. Ed.

c It would appear from this and the two preceding aphorisms, that
Bacon fell into the error of denying the utility of the syllogism in
the very part of inductive science where it is essentially required ;
Logic, like mathematics, is purely a formal process, and must, as the
scaffolding to the building, be employed to arrange facts in the struc
ture of a science, and not to form any portion of its ground- work, or
to supply the materials of which the system is to be composed. The
word syllogism, like most other pyschological terms, has no fixed or
original signification, but is sometimes employed, as it was by the
Greeks, to denote general reasoning, and at others to point out the
formal method of deducing a particular inference from two or more general
propositions. Bacon does not confine the term within the boundaries of
express definition, but leaves us to infer that he took it in the latter
sense, from his custom of associating the term with the wranglings of
the schools. The scholastics, it is true, abused the deductive syllogism,
by employing it in its naked, skeleton-like form, and confounding it
with the whole breadth oi logical theory ; but their errors are not to be
visited on Aristotle, who never dreamt of playing with formal syllo
gisms, and, least of all, mistook the descending for the ascending
series of inference. In our mind we are of accord with the Stagyrite,
who propounds, as far as we can interpret him, two modes of investi
gating truth, — the one by which we ascend from particular and singular
tacts to general laws and axioms, and the other by which we descend

2 2c

386 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK L

unequal to the eubtilty of nature. It forces assent, therefore^
and not things.

XIV. The syllogism consists of propositions, propositions of
words, words are the signs of notions. If, therefore, the notions
(which fonrTthe basis of the"wEoTe) be confused and carelessly
abstracted from things, there is no solidity in the superstructure.
Our only hope, flien, 'is in genuine induction.

XV. "We have- no sound notions either in logic or physics;
substance, quality, action, passion, and existence are not clear
notions ; much less weight, levity, density, tenuity, moisture,
dryness, generation, corruption, attraction, repulsion, element,
matter, form, and the like. They are all fantastical and ill-
defined.

XVI. The notions of less abstract natures, as man, dog, dove,
and the immediate perceptions of sense, as heat, cold, white,
black, do not deceive us materially, yet even these are some
times confused by the mutability of matter and the intermixture
of things. All the rest which men have hitherto employed are
errors, and improperly abstracted and deduced from things.

XVII. There is the same degree of licentiousness and error
in forming axioms as in abstracting notions, and that in the first
principles, which depend on common induction; still more is
this the case in axioms and inferior propositions derived from
syllogisms.

X VIII. The present discoveries in science are such as lie
immediately beneath the surface of common notions. It is
necessary, nowcver, to penetrate the more secret and remote
parts of nature, in order to abstract both notions and axioms
from things by a more certain and guarded method.

XIX. There are and can exist but two ways of investigating
and discovering truth. The one hurries on rapidly from the
senses and particulars to the most general axioms, and from
them, as principles and their supposed indisputable truth, derives
and discovers the intermediate axioms. This is the way now in
use. The other constructs its axioms from the senses and parti
culars, by ascenfrniL!; continually and gradually, till it finally
arrives at the most general axioms, which is the true but unat-
tempted way.

XX. The understanding when left to itself proceeds by the

from universal propositions to the individual cases which they virtually
include. Logic, therefore, must equally vindicate the formal purity oi
the synthetic illation by which it ascends to the whole, as the analytic
process by which it descends to the marts. The deductive and inductive
syllogism are of equal significance in building up any body oi truth,
and whoever restricts logic to eithe process, mistakes one half of ltd
province for the whole ; and if he a«wts upon his error, will paralyse hii|
u.cthods, ar.d strike the noblest parv of science with sterility. £d.

BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 387

same way as that which it would have adopted under the
guidance of logic, namely, the first; for the mind is fond of
starting off to generalities, that it may avoid labour, and after
dwelling a little on a subject is fatigued by experiment. But
those evils are augmented by logic, for the sake of the ostenta
tion of dispute.

XXI. The understanding, when left to itself in a man of a
steady, patient, and reflecting disposition (especially when unim
peded by received doctrines), makes some attempt in the right
way, but with little effect, since the understanding, undirected
and unassisted, is unequal to and unfit for the task of vanquish
ing the obscurity of things.

XXII. Each of these two ways begins from the senses and
particulars, and ends in the greatest generalities. But they are
immeasurably different ; for the one merely touches cursorily
the limits of experiment and particulars, whilst the other runs
duly and regularly through them, — the one from the very outset
lays down some abstract and useless generalities, the other gra
dually rises to those principles which are really the most common
in nature.*

XXIII. There is no small difference between the idols of the
human mind and the ideas of the Divine mind, — that is to say,
between certain idle dogmas and the rCal" Stamp and impression
of created objects, as they are found irTnatureY

!X~XiY. Axi<>ms determined upon in argument can never
assist in the discovery of new effects; for the subtilty of nature
is vastly superior to that of argument. But axioms properly and
regularly abstracted from particulars easilv point out and define
new particulars, and therefore impart activity to the sciences.

XXV. The axioms now in use are derived from a scanty hand
ful, as it were, of experience, and a fe\v particulars of frequent
occurrence, whence they are of much the same dimensions or
extent as their origin. And if any neglected or unknown in.
stance occurs, the axiom is saved by some frivolous distinction,
when it would be more consistent with truth to amend it.

XXVI. We are wont, for the sake of distinction, to call that
human reasoning which we apply to nature the anticipation of
r. at ure (as being rash and premature), and that which is properly
deduced from things the m.terpretatiQn of nature.

XXVII. Anticipations are sufficiently powerful in producing
d The Latin is, ad ea qua: rcvcra suxt natures notiora. This expression,

naturce notiora, natural notior, is so frequently employed by Bacon, that
we may conclude it to point to some distinguishing feature in the Eaco
nian physics. It properly refers to the most evident principles and
laws of nature, and springs from that system which regards the materi;ij
universe as endowed with intelligence, and acting according to rules
either fashioned or clearly understood by itself. Ld.

388 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I

unanimity, for if men were all to become even Tmiformly mad,
they might agree tolerably well with each other.

XXVIII. Anticipations, again, will be assented to much more
readily than interpretations, because being deduced from a few
instances, and these principally of familiar occurrence, they im
mediately hit the understanding and satisfy the imagination ;
whilst on the contrary interpretations, being deduced from
various subjects, and these widely dispersed, cannot suddenly
strike the understanding, so that in common estimation they
must appear difficult and discordant, and alniost Jike the mys
teries of faith,

AA1A." In sciences founded on opinions and dogmas, it is
right to make use of anticipalions and logic if you wish to force
assent rather than things.

XXX. If all thtTcapacities of all ages should unite and com
bine and transmit their labours, no great progress will be made
in learning by anticipations, because the radical errors, and those
\\ iiich occur in the first process of the mind, are not cured by
the excellence of subsequent means and remedies.

XXXI. It is in vain to expect any great progress in the
sciences by the superinducing or engrafting new matters upon
old. An instauratioa must be made from the very foundations,
if we do not wish to revolve for ever in a circle, making only
some slight and contemptible progress.

XXXII. The ancient authors and all others are left in undis
puted possession of their honours ; for we enter into no compa
rison of capacity or talent, but of method, and assume the part
of a guide rather than of a critic.

XXXIII. To speak plainly, no correct judgment can bo
formed either of our method or its discoveries by those anticipa
tions which are now in common use ; for it is not to be required
of us to submit ourselves to the judgment of the very method
we ourselves arraign.

XXXIV. 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.

XXXV. Alexander Borgia* said of the expedition of the
French into Italy that they came with chalk in their hands to
mark up their lodgings, and not with weapons to force their
passage. Even so do we wish our philosophy to make its way
quietly into those minds that are fit for it, and of good capacity;
for we have no need of contention where we differ in first prin-

e This r>orgia was Alexander VI., and the expedition alluded to that
in which Charles VIII. overran the Italian peninsula in five months.
Bacoii uses the same illustration in concluding his survey of natural
•milo-jophy, iu the second book of the "De Augmentis." Ed,

BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 389

ciples, and in our very notions, and even in our forma of demon-
•tration.

XXXVI. We have but one simple method of delivering our
sentiments, namely, we must bring men to^particiil^rA/jrifl their
regular series and order, and theyjpyafr for n. while renounce
their notions, and begin to form an^cquaintance with filings.

XX X VII. Our method and that of the sceptics' agre"e~m sonn>
respects at first setting out, but differ most widely, and are
completely opposed to each other in their conclusion ; for they
roundly assert that nothing can be known ; we, that but a smnll
part ooiature can be known, by the present method ; TuTTr next.
"step, however, is to destroy the authority of the senses and un
derstanding, whilst we invent and supply them with assistance.

XXXVIII. The idols and false notions which have already
preoccupied the human understanding, and are deeply rooted in
it, not only so beset men's minds that they become difficult of
access, but even when access is obtained will again meet and
trouble us in the instauration of the sciences, unless mankind
when forewarned guard themselves with all possible care against
them.

XXXIX. Four species of idols beset the human mind,* to
which (for distinction's sake) we have assigned names, calling
the first Idols of the Tribe, the second Idols of the Den, the third
Idols of the Market, the fourth Idols of the Theatre.

XL. The formation of notions and axioms on the foundation
of true induction is the only fitting remedy by which we can
ward off and expel these idols. It is, however, of great service
to point them out ; for the doctrine of idols bears the same rela
tion to the interpretation of nature as that of the confutation of
sophisms does to common logic.*

f Ratio eorum qui acatalepsiam tenucrunt. Bacon alludes to the
members of the later academy, who held the drardXTji//ta, or the impos*
sibility of comprehending anything. His translator, however, makes
him refer to the Sceptics, who neither dogmatised about the known or
the unknown, but simply held, that as all knowledge was relative,
TTf)i>q TravTa n, man could never arrive at absolute truth, and therefore
could not with certainty affirm or deny anything. Ed.

8 It is argued by Hallam, with some appearance of truth, that idols
is not the correct translation of f icoAa, from which the original idola is
manifestly derived ; but that Bacon used it in the literal sense attached
to it by the Greeks, as a species of illusion, or false appearance, and not
as a species of divinity before which the mind bows down. If Hallam " >e
right, Bacon is saved from the odium of an analogy which his foreign
commentators are not far wrong in denouncing as barbarous ; but th is
service is rendered at the expense of the men who have attached an
opposite meaning to the word, among whom are Brown, Playfair, and
Dugald Stewart. Ed.

k We cannot see how these idols have lesi to do with sophistica

390 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I.

XLT. The idols of the tribe arc inherent in human nature and
the very tribe or race of man ; for man's sense is falsely asserted
to be the standard of things ; on the contrary, all the perceptions
both of the senses and the mind bear reference to man and not
to the universe, and the human mind resembles those uneven
mirrors which impari their own properties t» tliil'nvnf objects,
from which rays are emitted and distort and disfigure them.1

XLII. The idols of the den are those of each individual ; for
everybody (in addition to the errors common to the race of man)
has his own individual den or cavern, which intercepts and
corrupts the light of nature, either from his own peculiar and
singular disposition, or from his education and intercourse with
others, or from his reading, and the authority acquired by those
whom he reverences and admires, or from the different impres
sions produced on the mind, as it happens to be preoccupied
and predisposed, or equable and tranquil, and the like ; so that
the spirit of man (according to its several dispositions), is va
riable, confused, and as it were actuated by chance ; and Hcra-
clitus said well that men search for knowledge in lesser worlds,
and not in the greater or common world.

XLIII. There are also idols formed by the reciprocal inter
course and society of man with man, which we call idols of the
market, from the commerce and association of men with each
other ; for men converse by means of language, but words are
formed at the will of the generality, and there arises from a bad
and unapt formation of words a wonderful obstruction to the
mind. Nor can the definitions and explanations with which
learned men are wont to guard and protect themselves in some
instances afford a complete remedy, — words still manifestly force

paralogisms than with natural philosophy. The process of scientific
induction involves only the first elements of reasoning, and presents
such a clear and tangible suria.ce, as to allow no lurking-place for pre
judice ; while questions of politics and morals, to which the deductive
method, or common logic, as Bacon calls it, is peculiarly applicable, are
ever liable to be swayed or perverted by the prejudices he enumerates.
After mathematics, physical science is the least amenable to the illusions
of feeling ; each portion having been already tested by experiment and
observation, is fitted into its place in the system, with all the rigour of
the geometrical method ; affection or prejudice cannot, as in matters of
taste, history, or religion, select fragmentary pieces, and form a system
of their own. The whole must be admitted, or the structure of au
thoritative reason raied to the ground. It is needless to say that the
idols enumerated present only another interpretation of the substance
of logical fallacies. Ed.

1 The propensity to this illusion may be viewed in the spirit of system,
or hasty generalization, which is still one of the chief cbstacLes in the
path of modern science. Ed.

BOOK l] APHORISMS. 391

tlic understanding, throw every tiling into confusion, and lead
mankind into vain and innumerable controversies and fallacies.

XLIV. Lastly, there are idols which have crept into men's
minds from the various dogmas of peculiar systems of philo
sophy, and also from the perverted rules of demonstration, and
these we denominate idols of the theatre : for we regard all the
systems of philosophy hitherto received or imagined, as so many
plays brought out and performed, creating fictitious and thea
trical worlds. Nor do we speak only of the present systems, or
of the philosophy and sects of the ancients, since numerous
other plays of a similar nature can be still composed and made
to agree with each other, the causes of the most opposite errors
being generally the same. Nor, again, do we allude merely to
general systems, but also to many elements and axioms of
sciences which have become inveterate by tradition, implicit
credence, and neglect. We must, however, discuss each species
of idols more fully and distinctly in order to guard the human
understanding against them.

XLV. The human understanding, from its peculiar nature,
easily supposes a greater degree of order and equality in things
than it really finds ; and although many things in nature be su i
generis and most irregular, will yet invent parallels and conju
gates and relatives, where no such thing is. Hence the fiction,
that all celestial bodies move in perfect circles, thus rejecting
entirely spiral and serpentine lines (except as explanatory
terms).* Hence also the element of fire is introduced with its
peculiar orbit,1 to keep square with those other three which are

k Though Kepler had, when Bacon wrote this, already demonstrated his
three great laws concerning the elliptical path of the planets, neither
Bacon nor Descartes seem to have known or assented to his discoveries.
Our author deemed the startling astronomical announcements of his time
to be mere theoretic solutions oi the phenomena oi the heavens, not so
perfect as those advanced by antiquity, but still deserving a praise for
the ingenuity displayed in their contrivance. Bacon believed a htmdred
Buch systems might exist, and though true in their explanation of phe
nomena, yet might all more or less differ, according to the preconceived
notions which their framers brought to the survey of the heavens. He
even thought he might put in his claim to the notice of posterity for his
astronomical ingenuity, and, as Ptolemy had laboured by means of
epicycles and eccentrics, and Kepler with ellipses, to explain the laws
oi planetary motion, Bacon thought the mystery would unfold itself
quite as philosophically thi-ough spiral labyrinths and serpentine lines.
What the details of his system were, we are left to conjecture, and that
from a very meagre but naive account of one oi his inventions which he
has left in his Miscellany MSS. Ed.

1 Hinc elementum ignis cum, orbe suo introductum, est. Bacon saw
in fire the mere result of a certain combination ot action, and wag
consequently led to deny its elementary character. The ancient phvai-

I>92 KOVUM ORGASUM. [BOOK 1,

objects of oiir senses. The relative rarity of the elements (as
they are called) is arbitrarily made to vary in tenfold progres
sion, with many other dreams of the like nature.™ Nor is this
folly confined to theories, but it is to be met with even in simple
notions.

XL VI. The human understanding, when any proposition has
been once laid down (either from general admission and belief,
or from the pleasure it affords), forces everything else to add
fresh support and confirmation ; and although most cogent and
abundant instances may exist to the contrary, yet either docs
not observe or despises them, or gets rid of and rejects them by
some distinction, with violent and injurious prejudice, rather
than sacrifice the authority of its first conclusion?. It was well
answered by him0 who was shown in a temple the votive tablets
suspended by such as had escaped the peril of shipwreck, and
was pressed as to whether he would then recognise the power of
the gods, by an inquiry, But where are the portraits of those
who have perished in spite of their vows ? All superstition is
much the same, whether it be that of astrology, dreams, omens,
retributive judgment, or the like, in all of which the deluded
believers observe events which are fulfilled, but neglect and pass
over their failure, though it be much more common. But this
evil insinuates itself still more craftily in philosophy and the
sciences, in which a settled rnaxim vitiates and governs every
other circumstance, though the latter be much more worthy of
confidence. Besides, eveu in the absence of that eagerness and
want of thought (which we have mentioned), it 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.

XLVII. The human understanding is most excited by that
which strikes and enters the mind at once and suddenly, and by
which the imagination is immediately filled and inflated. It
then begins almost imperceptibly to conceive and suppose that
everything is similar to the few objects which have taken posses-
cists attributed an orbit to each of the four elements, into which they
resolved the universe, and supposed their spheres to involve e-ach other.
The orbit of the earth was in the centre, that of fire at the circum
ference. For Bacon's inquisition into the nature of heat, and its com
plete failure, see the commencement of the second book of the Novurn
Organum. Ed.

m Robert Fludd is the theorist alluded to, who had supposed the
gravity of the earth to be ten times heavier than water, that of water
ten times heavier than air, and that of air ten times heavier than fire. Ed.

n Diagoras. The same allusion occurs in the second part of the Ad«
vanceraent of Learning, whei-e Bacon treaty of the idols of the mind.

BOOK i.J

Bion of the mind, whilst it is very slow and unfit for the transi
tion to the remote and heterogeneous instances by which axioms
are tried as by lire, unless the office be imposed upon it by severe
regulations and a powerful authority.

XLVIII. The human understanding is active and cannot halt
or rest, but even, though without effect, still presses forward.
Thus \ve cannot conceive of any end or external boundary of the
world, and it seems necessarily to occur to us that there must be
something beyond. Nor can we imagine how eternitv has flowed
on down to the present day, since the usually received distinc
tion of an infinity, a parte ante and a parte post0 cannot hold
good; for it would thence follow that one infinity is greater
than another, and also that infinity is wasting away and tending
to an end. There is the same difficulty in considering the in
finite divisibility of lines arising from the weakness of our minds,
which weakness interferes to still greater disadvantage with the
discovery of causes ; for although the greatest generalities in
nature must be positive, just as they are found, and in fact not
causable, yet the human understanding, incapable of resting,
seeks for something more intelligible. Thus, however, whilst
aiming at further progress, it falls back to what is actually less
advanced, namely, final causes; for they are clearlv more allied
to man's own nature, than the system of the universe, and from
this source they have wonderfully corrupted philosophy. But ho
would be an unskilful and shallow philosopher who should seek
for causes in the greatest generalities, and not be anxious to dis
cover them in subordinate objects.

XL-IX. The human understanding resembles not a dry light,
but admits a tincture of the willp and passions, which generate

0 A scholastic terra, to signify the two eternities of past and future
duration, that stretch out on both sides of the narrow isthmus (time)
occupied by man. It must be remembered that Bacon lived before the
doctrine of limits gave rise to the higher calculus, and therefore could
have no conception of different denominations of infinities : on the
other hand he would have thought the man insane who should hav<j
talked to him about lines infinitely great, inclosing angles infinitely
little ; that a right line, which is a right line so long as it is finite, bv
changing infinitely little its direction, becomes an infinite curve, and
that a curve may become infinitely less than another curve ; that then;
are infinite squares, and infinite cubes, and infinites of infinites, all
greater than one another, and the last but one of which is nothing in
comparison with the last. Yet half a century sufficed from Bacon's
time, to make this nomenclature, which would have appeared to him
the excess of frenzy, not only reasonable hut necessary, to grasp the
higher demonstrations of physical science. Ed.

P Spinoza, in his letter to Oldenberg (Op. Posth. p. 398), considers thig
aphorism based on a wrong conception of the origin of error, and, believ-
vng it to be fundamental, was led to reject Bacon's method altogether.

394 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I.

their own system accordingly; for man always believes more
readily that which he prefers. He, therefore, rejects difficulties
for want of patience in investigation ; sobriety, because it limits
his hope ; the depths of nature, from superstition ; the light of
experiment, from arrogance and pride, lest his mind should
appear to be occupied with common and varying objects ; para
doxes, from a fear of the opinion of the vulgar ; in short, his
feelings imbue and corrupt his understanding in innumerable
and sometimes imperceptible ways.

L. But by far the greatest impediment and aberration of the
human understanding proceeds from the dulness, incompetency,
and errors of the senses ; since whatever strikes the senses pre
ponderates over everything, however superior, which does not
immediately strike them. Hence contemplation mostly ceases
with sight, and a very scanty, or perhaps no regard is paid to
invisible objects. The entire operation, therefore, of spirits en
closed in tangible bodies* is concealed, and escapes us. All that
more delicate change of formation in the parts of coarser sub
stances (vulgarly called alteration, but in fact a change of posi
tion in the smallest particles) is equally unknown ; and yet, un«
less the two matters we have mentioned be explored and brought
to light, no great effect can be produced in nature. Again, the
very nature of common air, and all bodies of less density (of
which there are many) is almost unknown ; for the senses are
weak and erring, nor can instruments be of great use in extend
ing their sphere or acuteness, — all the better interpretations of
nature arc worked out by instances, and fit and apt experiments,
where the senses only judge of the experiment, the experiment
of nature and the thing itself.

LI. The human understanding is, by its own nature, prone to
abstraction, and supposes that which is fluctuating to be fixed.
But it is better to dissect than abstract nature ; such was the
method employed by the school of Democritus,* which made

Spinoza refused to acknowledge in man any such thing as a will, and
resolved all his volitions into particular acts, which he considered to be
as fatally determined by a chain of physical causes as any effects in
nature. Ed.

i Operatio spirituum in corporibus tanyibilibus. Bacon distin
guished with the schools the gross and tangible parts of bodies, from
such as were volatile and untangible. These, in conformity with the
scholastic language, he terms spirits, and frequently returns to their
operations in the 2nd book. See vii. 4th para. b. 2. Ed.

r Democritus, of Abdera, a disciple oi Leucippus, born B.C. 470,
died 360 ; all his works are destroyed. He is said to be the author oi
the doctrine of atoms : he denied the immortality of the soul, and first
taught that the milky way was occasioned by a confused light from a
multitude) oi stare, He may be considered as the parent oi expezi*

BOOK L) APHOIUSM& 395

greater progress in penetrating nature tlmn the rest. It is best
to consider matter, its COD formation, and the changes of tha*
conformation, its own action,8 and the law of this action or
motion ; for forms are a mere fiction of the human mind, unless
you will call the laws of action by that name.*

LII. Such are the idols of the tribe, which arise either from
the uniformity of the constitution of mail's spirit, or its preju
dices, or its limited faculties or restless agitation, or from the
interference of the passions, or the incompetency of the senses,
or the mode of their impressions.

LIII. The idols of the den derive their origin from the pecu
liar nature of each individual's mind and body, and also from
education, habit, and accident; and although they be various
and manifold, yet we will treat of some that require the greatest
caution, and exert the greatest power in polluting the under
standing.

LIV. Some men become attached to particular sciences and
contemplations, either from supposing themselves the authors
and inventors of them, or from having bestowed the greatest
pains upon such subjects, and thus become most habituated to
them.™ If men of this description apply themselves to philoso
phy and contemplations of an universal nature, they wrest and
corrupt them by their preconceived fancies, of which Aristotle

mental philosophy, in the prosecution of which he wf;s so ardent as to
declare that he would prefer the discovery of one of the causes of
natural phenomena, to the possession of the diadem of Persia. Democri-
tus imposed on the blind credulity of his contemporaries, and, like Roger
Bacon, astonished them by his inventions. Ed.

8 The Latin is actus purus, another scholastic expression to denote
the action of the substance, which composes the essence of the body
apart from its accidental qualities. For an exposition of the various
kind 01 motions he contemplates, the reader may refer to the 4Sth
aphorism of the 2nd book. Ed.

1 The scholastics after Aristotle distinguished in a subject threo
modes of beings : viz., the power or faculty, the act, and the habitude,
or in other words that which is able to exist, what exists actually, and
what continues to exist. Bacon means that is necessary to fix our
attention not on that which can or ought to be, but on that which
actually is ; not on the right, but on the fact. Ed.

u The inference to be drawn from this is to suspect that kind of evi
dence which is most consonant to our inclinations, and not to admit any
notion as real except we can base it firmly upon that kind of demon
stration which is peculiar to the subject, not to our impression. Some
times the mode of proof may be consonant to our inclinations, and to
the subject at the same time, as in the case of Pythagoras, when he
applied his beloved numbers to the solution of astronomical phenomena ;
or in that ot Descartes, when he reasoned geometrically concerning the
nature of the soul. Such examples cannot be censured with justice,

•W6 NOVUM OHGANUM. [cOOK /.

affords us a signal instance, who made his natural philosophy
completely subservient to his logic, and thus rendered it little
more than useless and disputatious. The chemists, again, have
formed a fanciful philosophy with the most confined views, from
a few experiments of the furnace. Gilbert,* too, having em
ployed himself most assiduously in the consideration of the
magnet, immediately established a system of philosophy to coin
cide with his favourite pursuit.

LV. The greatest and, perhaps, radical distinction between
different men's dispositions for philosophy and the sciences is
this, that some are more vigorous and active in observing the
differences of things, others in observing their resemblances ;
for a steady and acute disposition can fix its thoughts, and dwell
upon and adhere to a point, through all the refinements of diffe
rences, but those that are sublime and discursive recognise and
compare even the most delicate and general resemblances ; each
of them readily falls into excess, by catching either at nice dis
tinctions or shadows of resemblance.

LVI. Some dispositions evince an unbounded admiration of
antiquity, others eagerly embrace novelty, and but few can pre
serve the just medium, so as neither to tear up what the ancients
have correctly laid down, nor to despise the just innovations of
the moderns. But this is very prejudicial to the sciences and
philosophy, and instead of a correct judgment we have but the
factions of the ancients and moderns. Truth is not to be sought
in the good fortune of any particular conjuncture of time, which
is uncertain, but in the light of nature and experience, which is
eternal. Such factions, therefore, are to be abjured, and the
understanding must not allow them to hurry it on to assent.

inasmuch as the methods pursued were adapted to the end of the
inquiry. The remark in the text can only apply to those philosophers
who attempt to build up a moral or theological system by the instru
ments of induction alone, or who rush, with the geometrical axiom, and
the d priori syllogism, to the investigation of nature. The means in
such cases are totally inadequate to the object in view. Ed.

x Gilbert lived towards the close of the sixteenth century, and was
court physi-cian to both Elizabeth and James. In his work alluded to
in the text he continually asserts the advantages of the experimental
over the d priori method in physical inquiry, and succeeded when his
censor failed in giving a practical example of the utility of his pre
cepts. His " De Ma^nete " contains all the fundamental parts of the
science, and these so perfectly treated, that we have nothing to add to
them at the present day.

Gilbert adopted the Copermcan system, and even spoke of the con
trary theory as utterly absurd, grounding his argument on the vast
velocities which such * supposition requires us to ascribe to the
heavenly bodies Ed.

BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 397

LVII. The contemplation of nature and of bodies in their
individual form distracts and weakens the understanding; but
the contemplation of nature and of bodies in their general conL-
jjosition and formation gtupifies and relaxes it. Wehave a good
instance of this in the school of Leucippus and Democritus com
pared with others, for they applied themselves so much to parti
culars as almost to neglect the general structure of things, whilst
the others were so astounded whilst gazing on the structure that
they did not penetrate the simplicity of nature. These two
species of contemplation must, therefore, be interchanged, and
c-ach" employed in its turn, in order to render the understanding
at once penetrating and capacious, and to avoid the inconve
niences we have mentioned, and the idols that result from them.

LVIII. Let such, therefore, be our precautions in contempla
tion, that we may ward off and expel the idols of the den, which
mostly owe their birth either to some predominant pursuit, or,
secondly, to an excess in synthesis and analysis, or, thirdly, to a
party zeal in favour of certain ages, or, fourthly, to the extent
or narroAvness of the subject. In general, he who contemplates
nature should suspect whatever particularly takes and fixes his
understanding, and should use so much the more caution to pre
serve it equable and unprejudiced.

LIX. The idols of the market are the most troublesome of
all, those namely which have entwined themselves round the un
derstanding from the associations of words and names. For men,
imaine that their reason governs words, whilst, in fact,, worcte
ii nflgrs landing ; and this has rendered philosophy
and the sciences sophistical and inactive. Words axe. generally
formed^ in a popular sense, and define things by those broad
lines which are most obvious to the vulgar mind ; but when a
more acute understanding, or more diligent observation is
anxious to vary those lines, and to adapt them more accurately
to nature, words oppose it. Hence the great and solemn dis
putes of learned men often terminate in controversies about
words and names, in regard to which it would be better (imitating
the caution of mathematicians) to proceed more advisedly in the
first instance, and to bring such disputes to a regular issue by
definitions. Such definitions, however, cannot remedy the evil in
natural and material objects, because they consist themselves of
words, and these words produce others ;y so that we must neces-

7 The Latin text adds "without end ;" but Bacon is scarcely right in
supposing that the descent from complex ideas and propositions to
those of simple nature, involve the analyst in a series of continuous
and interminable definitions. For in the gradual and analytical scale,
there is a bar beyond which we cannot go, as there is a summit bounded
oy the limited variations of our conceptions. Logical definitions, in
fulfil thei»- conditions, or indeed to be of any avail, must be ^-iven in

o98 HOVUM. ORGANUM. [BOOK r-

iarily have recourse to particular instances, and their regular series
and arrangement, as we shall mention when we come to the mode
and scheme of determining notions and axioms.

LX. The idols imposed upon the understanding by words are
of two kinds. They are either the names of things which have
no existence (for as some objects are from inattention left without
a name, so names are formed by fanciful imaginations which arc
without an object), or they are the names of actual objects, but
confused, badly defined, and hastily and irregularly abstracted
from things. Fortune, i\\e primum mobile, the planetary orbits,*
the element of fire, and the like fictions, which owe their birth
to futile and false theories, are instances of the first kind. And
this species of idols is removed with greater facility, because it
can be exterminated by the constant refutation or the desuetude
of the theories themselves. The others, which are created by
vicious and unskilful abstraction, are intricate and deeply rooted.
Take some word for instance, as moist, and let us examine how
far the different significations of this word are consistent. It
will be found that the word moist is nothing but a confused sign
of different actions admitted of no settled and defined uniformity.
For it means that which easily diffuses itself over another body ;
that which is indeterminable and cannot be brought to a consis
tency; that which yields easily in every direction ; that which
is easily divided and dispersed ; that which is easily united and
collected; that which easily flows and is put in motion ; that
which easily adheres to, and wets another body ; that which is
easily reduced to a liquid state though previously solid. When,
therefore, you come to predicate or impose this name, in one
sense flame is moist, in another air is not moist, in another fine
powder is moist, in another glass is moist ; so that it is quite

simpler terms than the object which is sought to be defined ; now this,
in the case of primordial notions and objects ot sense, is impossible ;
therefore we are obliged to rest satisfied with the mere names of our
perceptions. Ed.

z The ancients supposed the planets to describe an exact circle round
the south. As observations increased and fac:s were disclosed, which
were irreconcileable with this supposition, tb.e earth was removed from
the centre to some other point in the circle, and the planets were sup
posed to revolve in a smaller circle (epicycle) round an imaginary point,
which in its turn described a circle of which the earth vras the centre.
In proportion as observation elicited fresh iacts, contradictory to
these representations, other epicycles and eccentrics were added, involv
ing additional confusion. Though Kepler had swept away all theso
complicated theories in the preceding century, by the demonstration of
bis three laws, which established the elliptical course of the planets,
Bacon regarded him and Copernicus in the same light as Ptolemy au'1
Xenophanes. Ed.

HOOK i.] 4Piioi-:isMS. 300

clear tliat this notion is hastily abstracted from water only, and
common ordinary liquors, without any due verification of it.

There are, however, different degrees of distortion and mistake
in words. One of the least faulty classes is that of the names
of substances, particularly of the less abstract and more defined
species (those then of chalk and mud are good, of earth bad) ;
words signifying actions are more faulty, as to generate, to cor
rupt, to change ; but the most faulty are those denoting qualities
(except the immediate objects of sense), as heavy, light, rare,
dense. Yet in all of these there must be some notions a little
better than others, in proportion as a greater or less number of
things come before the senses.

LXI. The idols of the theatre are not innate, nor do they in
troduce themselves secretly into the understanding, but they are
manifestly instilled and cherished by the fictions of theories and
depraved rules of demonstration. To attempt, however, or un
dertake 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. And it
is fortunate that the ancients are left in possession of their
honours. We detract nothing from them, seeing our whole doc
trine relates only to the path to be pursued. The lame (as they say)
in the path outstrip the swift who wander from it, and it is clear
that the very skill and swiftness of him who runs not in the right
direction must increase his aberration.

Our method of discovering the sciences is such as to leave
little to the acuteness and strength of wit, and indeed rather to
level wit and intellect. For as in the drawing of a straight line,
or accurate circle by the hand, much depends on its steadiness
and practice, but if a ruler or compass be employed there is
little occasion for either; so it is with our method. Although,
however, we enter into no individual confutations, yet a little
must be said, first, of the sects and general divisions of these
species of theories ; secondly, something further to show that
there are external signs of their weakness ; and, lastly, we must
consider the causes of so great a misfortune, and so long and
general a unanimity in error, that we may thus render the access
to truth less difficult, and that the human understanding may the
more readily be purified, and brought to dismiss its idols.

LXII. Tho idols of the theatre, or of theories, are numerous,
and may, and perhaps will, bo still more so. For unless men's
minds had been now occupied for many ages in religious and
theological considerations, and civil governments (especially
monarchies), had been averse to novelties of that nature even in
theory (so that men must apply to them with some risk and injury
to their own fortunes, and not only without reward, but subject
iu contumely and envy), there is no doubt that many other

400 NOVUM OROANUM. [BOOK L

of philosophers and theorists would have been introduced, like
those which formerly flourished in such diversified abundance
amongst the Greeks. For as many imaginary theories of the
heavens can be deduced from the phenomena of the sky, so it is
even more easy to found many dogmas upon the phenomena of
philosophy — and the plot of this our theatre resembles those of
the poetical, where the plots which are invented for the stage are
more consistent, elegant, and pleasurable than those taken from
real history.

In general, men take for the groundwork of their philosophy
either too much from a few topics, or too little from many ; in
cither case their philosophy is founded on too narrow a basis of
experiment and natural history, and decides on too scanty
grounds. For the theoretic philosopher seizes various common
circumstances by experiment, without reducing them to certainty
or examining and frequently considering them, and relies for the
rest upon meditation and the activity of his wit.

There are other philosophers who have diligently and accu
rately attended to a few experiments, and have thence presumed
to deduce and invent systems oi philosophy, forming everything
to conformity with them.

A third set, from their faith and religious veneration, introduce
theology and traditions ; the absurdity of some among them
having proceeded so far as to seek and derive the sciences from
spirits and genii. There are, therefore, three sources of error
and three species of false philosophy ; the sophistic, empiric, and
supefstitTous. "

-"TJXIIL Aristotle affords the most eminent instance of the
first; for he corrupted natural philosophy by logic — thus he
formed the world of categories, assigned to the human soul, the
noblest of substances, a genus determined by words'of secondary
operation, treated of density and rarity (by which bodies occupy
a greater or lesser space), by the frigid distinctions of action
and power, asserted that there was a peculiar and proper motion
in all bodies, and that if they shared in any other motion, it was
owing to an external moving cause, and "imposed innumerable
arbitrary distinctions upon the nature of things ; being every
where more anxious as to definitions in teaching and the accuracy
of the wording of his propositions, than the internal truth of
things. And this is best shown by a comparison of his philo
sophy with the others of greatest repute among the Greeks. For
the similar parts of Anaxagoras, the atoms of Leucippus and
Democritus, the heaven and earth of Parmenides, the discord
and concord of Empedocles,* the resolution of bodies into the com-

• Empedocles, of Agrigentum, flourished 444 B.C. He was the Hi>
fcipie of Telangcs the Pythagorean, and warmly adopted the doctrirtf

B002 I.] APHOHtSMS. 401

mon nature of fire, and their condensation according to H'eraeiitus,
exhibit some sprinkling of natural philosophy, the Bature of
things, and experiment ; \vhilst Aristotle's physics are mere
logical terms, and he remodelled the same subject in his meta
physics under a more imposing title, and more as a realist than
a nominalist. Nor is much stress to be laid on his frequent re
course to experiment in his books on animals, his problems, and
other treatises ; for he had already decided, without having
properly consulted experience as the basis of his decisions and
axioms, and after having so decided, he drags experiment along
as a captive constrained to accommodate herself to his decisions:
so that he is even more to be blamed than his modern followers
(of the scholastic school) who have deserted her altogether.

LXIV. The empiric school produces dogmas of a more de
formed and monstrous nature than the sophistic or theoretic
school ; not being founded in the light of common notions
(which, however poor and superstitious, is yet in a manner
universal, and of a general tendency), but m the confined
obscurity of a few experiments. Hence this species of philosophy
appears probable, and almost certain to those who are daily
practised in such experiments, and have thus corrupted their
imagination, but incredible and futile to others. We have a
strong instance of this in the alchymists and their dogmas ; it
would be difficult to find another in this age, unless perhaps in
the philosophy of Gilbert.* We could not, however, neglect to
caution others against this school, because we already foresee and
augu.-, that if men be hereafter induced by our exhortations to
apply seriously to experiments (bidding farewell to the sophistic
doctrines), there will then be imminent danger from empirics,
owing to the premature and forward haste of the understanding,
audits jumping or flying to generalities and the principles of
things. We ought, therefore, already to meet the evil.

LXV. The corruption of philosophy by the mixing of it up
witli superstition and theology, is of a much wider extent, and
is most injurious to it both as a whole and in parts. For the
human understanding is no less exposed to the impressions of

of transmigration. He resolved the universe into the four ordinary
elements, the principles of whose composition were life and happiness,
or concord and amity, but whose decomposition brought forth death
and evil, or discord and hatred. Heraclitus held matter to be indif-
lerent to any peculiar form, but as it became rarer or more dense,
it took the appearance of fire, air, earth, and water. Fire, however,
he believed to be the elementary principle out of which the others were
evolved. This was also the belief of Lucretius. See book i. 783, &c.

b It is thus the Vulcanists and Neptunians have framed their oppo-
•ite theories in geology. Phrenology ia a modern instance of hasty
generalization. Ed.

2 2D

402 KOVUM OttGANtnr. COOK 1.

jancy, than to those of vulgar notions. The disputatious and
sopliistic school entraps the understanding, whilst the fanciful,
bombastic, and, as it were, poetical school, rather flatters it.
There is a clear example of this among the Greeks, especially in
Pythagoras, where, however, the superstition is coarse and over
charged, but it is more dangerous and refined in Plato and his
school. This evil is found also in some branches of other
systems of philosophy, where it introduces abstracted forms,
iinal and first causes, omitting frequently the intermediate and
the like. 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 understand
ing. Yet some of the moderns have indulged this folly with
such consummate inconsideratencss, that they have endeavoured
to build a system of natural philosophy on the first chapter of
Genesis, the book of Job, and other parts of Scripture ; seeking
thus the dead amongst the living.0 And this folly is the more to
be prevented and restrained, because not only fantastical philo
sophy, but heretical religion spring from the absurd mixture of
matters divine and human. It is therefore most wise soberly to
render unto faith the things that are faith's.

LXVI. Having spoken of the vicious authority of the systems
founded either on vulgar notions, or on a few experiments, or on
superstition, we must now consider the faulty subjects for con
templation, especially in natural philosophy. The human under
standing is perverted by observing the power of mechanical arts,
in which bodies are very materially changed by composition or
separation, and is induced to suppose that something similar
takes place in the universal nature of things. Hence the fiction
of elements, and their co-operuuon in forming natural bodies.*

c In scripture everything tvhich concerns the passing interests oi the
body is called dead ; the only living knowledge having regard to the
eternal interest of the soul. Ed.

a In mechanics and the general sciences, causes compound their
effects, or in other words, it is generally possible to deduce a priori
the consequence of introducing complex agencies into any experi
ment, by allowing for the effect of each of the simple causes which
enter into their composition. In chemistry and physiology a contrary law
holds ; the causes which they embody generally uniting to form distinct
substances, and to introduce unforeseen laws and combinations. The
deductive method here is consequently inapplicable, and we are forced
back upon experiment.

Bacon in the text is hardly consistent with himself, as he admits in.
the second book the doctrine, to which modern discovery points, of the
reciprocal transmutation of the elements. What seemed poetic fiction
in the theories of Pythagoras and Seneca, assumes the appearance of
scientific fact in the hands of Baron Cavnard. Ed.

BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 403

Again, when man reflects upon the entire liberty of nature, he
meets with particular species of things, as animals, plants, mine
rals, and is thence easily led to imagine that there exist in nature
certain primary forms which she strives to produce, and that all
variation from them arises from some impediment or error which
she is exposed to in completing her work, or from the collision
or metamorphosis of different species. The first hypothesis has
produced the doctrine of elementary properties, the second that
of occult properties and specific powers ; and both lead to trifling
courses of reflection, in which the mind acquiesces, and is thus
diverted from more important subjects. But physicians exercise
a much more useful labour in the consideration of the secondary
qualities of things, and the operations of attraction, repulsion,
attenuation, inspissation, dilatation, astringency, separation,
maturation, and the like ; and would do still more if they would
not corrupt these proper observations by the two systems I have
alluded to, of elementary qualities and specific powers, by which
they either reduce the secondary to first qualities, and their
subtile and immeasurable composition, or at any rate neglect to
advance by greater and more diligent observation to the third
and fourth qualities, thus terminating their contemplation pre
maturely. Nor are these powers (or the like) to be investigated
only among the medicines for the human body, but also in all
changes of other natural bodies.

A greater evil arises from the contemplation and investigation
rather of the stationary principles of things from which, than of
the active by which things themselves are created. For the
former only serve for discussion, the latter for practice. Nor is
any value to be set on those common differences of motion
which are observed in the received system of natural philosophy,
as generation, corruption, augmentation, diminution, alteration,
and translation. For this is their meaning: if a body, unchanged
in other respects, is moved from its place, this is translation ; it'
the place and species be given, but the quantity changed, it is
alteration ; but, if from such a change, the mass and quantity of
the body do not continue the same, this is the motion of augmen
tation and diminution ; if the change be continued so as to vary
the species and substance, and transfuse them to others, this is
generation and corruption. 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 j they
merely suggest how far, and not how or whence. For they ex
hibit neither the affections of bodies nor the process of their
parts, but merely establish a division of that motion, which
coarsely exhibits to the senses matter in its varied form. Even
when they wish to point out something relative to the causes of
motion, and to establish a division of them, they most absurdly

2D2

404 NOVUM ORGANUIL [BOOK i.

introduce natural and violent motion, which is also a popular
notion, since every violent motion is also in fact natural, that is
to say, the external efficient puts nature in action in a different
manner to that which she had previously employed.

But if, neglecting these, any one were for instance to observe
that there is in bodies a tendency of adhesion, so as not to suffer
the unity of nature to be completely separated or broken, and a
vacuum* to be formed, or that they have a tendency to return
to their natural dimensions or tension, so that, if compressed or
extended within or beyond it, they immediately strive to recover
themselves, and resume their former volume and extent ; or that
they have a tendency to congregate into masses with similar
bodies, — the dense, for instance, towards the circumference of
the earth, the thin and rare towards that of the heavens. These
and the like are true physical genera of motions, but the others
are clearly logical and scholastic, as appears plainly from a com
parison of the two.

Another considerable evil is, that men in their systems and
contemplations bestow their labour upon the investigation and
discussion of the principles of things and the extreme limits of
nature, although all utility and means of action consist in the
intermediate objects. Hence men cease not to abstract nature
till they arrive at potential and shapeless matter,* and still per
sist in their dissection, till they arrive at atoms ; and yet were
all this true, it would be of little use to advance man's estate.

LXVII. The understanding must also be cautioned against
the intemperance of systems, so far as regards its giving or with
holding its assent ; for such intemperance appears to fix and
perpetuate idols, so as to leave no means of removing them.

These excesses are of two kinds. The first is seen in those
who decide hastily, and render the sciences positive and dicta
torial. The other in those who have introduced scepticism, and
vague unbounded inquiry. The former subdues, the latter
enervates the understanding. The Aristotelian philosophy, after

e Galileo had recently adopted the notion that nature abhorred a
vacuum for an axiomatic principle, and it was not till Torricelli, his dis
ciple, had given practical proof of the utility of Bacon's method, by the
discovery of the barometer (1643), that this error, as also that expressed
below, and believed by Bacon, concerning the homoeopathic tendencies ot
bodies, was destroyed. Ed.

f Donee ad materiam potentialem et infonnem ventumfuerit. Nearly
all the ancient philosophers admitted the existence of a certain primitive
and shapeless matter as the substratum of things which the creative
power had reduced to fixed proportions, and resolved into specific sub
stances. The expression potential matter refers to that substance form
ing the basis of tlia Peripatetic system, which virtually contained all tlm
Vormd that it was in the power of the efficient cause to draw out of it. Ed,

POOR I.I APHORISMS. 405

destroying other systems (as the Ottomans do their brethren)
by its disputatious confutations, decided upon everything, and
Aristotle himself then raises up questions at will, in order to
settle them ; so that everything should be certain and decided, a
method now in use among his successors.

The school of Plato introduced scepticism, first, as it were in
joke and irony, from their dislike to Protagoras, Hippias,b and
others, who were ashamed of appearing not to doubt upon any
subject. But the new academy dogmatised in their scepticism,
and held it as their tenet. Although this method be more honest
than arbitrary decision (for its followers allege that they by no
means confound all inquiry, like Pyrrho and his disciples, but
hold doctrines which they can follow as probable, though they
cannot maintain them to be true), yet when the human mind
has once despaired of dLaum-riug truth, everything begins to
Irminiish. Hence men turn a>ide into pleasant controversies and
aftcussions, and into a sort of wandering over subjects rather
than sustain any rigorous investigation. But as we observed at
first, we are not to deny the authority of the human senses and
understanding, although weak, but rather to furnish them with
assistance.

LXVIII. 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.

LXIX. Vicious demonstrations are the muniments and sup
port of idols, and those which we possess in logic, merely subject

* An allusion to the humanity of the Sulta»s, who, in their earlier
histories are represented as signalizing their accession to the throne by
the destruction of their family, to remove the danger of rivalry and the
terrors of civil war. Ed.

h The text is "in odium veterum sophistarum, Protagorae, Hippiae, en
reliquorum." Those were called sophists, who, ostcntationis aut questus
causa philosopkabantur. (Acad. Prior, ii. 22.) They had corrupted and
degraded philosophy before Socrates. Protagoras of Abdera ("Affli/pa),
the most celebrated, taught that man is the measure of all things, by
which he meant not only that all which can be known is known only as
it related to our faculties, but also that apart from our faculties nothing
can be known. The sceptics equally held that knowledge was probable
only as it related to our faculties, but they stopped there, and did not,
like the sophist, dogmatize about the unknown. The works of
Protagoras were condemned for their impiety, and publicly burnt by the
eediles of Athens, who appear to have discharged the office of common
fongmen to the literary blasphemers of their d»y. £4.

106 HOViTM OLGAffUM. [BOOK L

and enslave the world to human thoughts, and thoughts to
words. But demonstrations are in some manner themselves
systems of philosophy and science j for such as they are, and
accordingly as they are regularly or improperly established, such
will be the resulting systems of philosophy and contemplation.
But those which we employ in the whole process leading from
the senses and things to axioms and conclusions, are fallacious
and incompetent. This process is fourfold, and the errors are in
equal number. In the first place the impressions of the senses
are erroneous, for they fail and deceive us. We must supply
defects by substitutions, and fallacies by their correction. Se
condly, notions are improperly abstracted from the senses, and
indeterminate and confused when they ought to be the reverse.
Thirdly, the induction that is employed is improper, for it deter
mines the principles of sciences by simple enumeration,* without
adopting exclusions and resolutions, or just separations of nature.
Lastly, The usual method of discovery and proof, by first esta
blishing the most general propositions, then applying and proving
the intermediate axioms according to them, is the parent of error
and the calamity of every science. But we will treat more fully
of that which we now slightly touch upon, when we come to lay-
down the true way of interpreting nature, after having gone
through the above expiatory process and purification of the
mind.

LXX. But experience is by far the best demonstration, pro
vided it atffiere to the experiment actually made, for if that
experiment be transferred to other subjects apparently similar,
unless with proper and methodical caution it becomes fallacious.
The present method of experiment is blind and stupid ; hence

1 Bacon is hardly correct in implying that the enumerationem per
simplicem was the only light in which the ancients looked upon induc
tion, as they appear to have regarded it as only one, and that the least
important, of its species. Aristotle expressly considers induction in a
perfect or dialectic sense, and in an imperfect or rhetorical sense. Thus
if a genus (G), contains four species (A, B, c, D), the syllogism would lead
us to infer, that what is true of G, is true of any of the one four. But perfect
induction would reason, that what we can prove of A, B, C, D, separately,
we may properly state as true of G, the whole genus. This is evidently a
formal argument as demonstrative as the syllogism. In necessary matters,
however, legitimate induction may claim a wider province, and infer of
the whole genus what is only apparent in a part of the species. Such
are those inductive inferences which concern the laws of nature, the
immutability of forms, by which Bacon strove to erect his new system
of philosophy. The Stagyrite, however, looked upon enumerationem per
simplicem, without any regard to the nature of the matter, or to the com
pleteness oi the species, with as much reprehensive caution as Bacon,
and guarded his readers against it as the source of innumerable errors,
Ed.

BOOK i.] AWTcmisMS. 407

men wandering and roaming without any determined course, anc
consulting mere chance, are hurried about to various points, and
advance but little, — at one time they are happy, at another their
attention is distracted, and they always find that they want
something further. Men generally make their experiments care
lessly, and as it were in sport, making some little variation in a
known experiment, and then if they fail they become disgusted
and £ive up the attempt ; nay, it' they set to work more seriously,
steadily, and assiduously, yet they waste all their time on
probing some solitary matter, as Gilbert on the magnet, and the
alchemists on gold. But such conduct sho\rs their method to be
no less unskilful than mean ; for nobody can successfully inves
tigate the nature of any object by considering that object alone ;
the inquiry must be more generally extended.

Even when men build any science and theory upon experi
ment, yet they almost always turn with premature and hasty
zeal to practise, not merely on account of the advantage and
benefit to be derived from it, but in order to seize upon some
security in a new undertaking of their not employing the re
mainder of their labour unprofitably, and by making themselves
conspicuous, to acquire a greater name for their pursuit. Hence,
like Atalanta, they leave the course to pick up the golden apple,
interrupting their speed, and giving up the victory. But in the
true course of experiment, and in extending it to new effects, we
should imitate the Divine foresight and order ; for God on the
first day only created light, and assigned a whole day to that
work without creating any material substance thereon. In like
manner we must first, by every kind of experiment, elicit the
discovery of causes and true axioms, and seek for experiments
which may afford light rather than profit. Axioms, when rightly
investigated and established, prepare us not for a limited but
abundant practice, and bring in their train whole troops of
effects. But we will treat hereafter of the ways of experience,
which are not less beset and interrupted than those of judgment;
having spoken at present of common experience only as a bad
species of demonstration, the order of our subject now requires
some mention of those external signs of the weakness in practice
of the received systems of philosophy and contemplation k which
we referred to above, and of the causes of a circumstance at first
sight so wonderful and incredible. 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.

LXXI. The sciences we possess have been principally derived

* See Ax. Ixj. towards the end. Tbi.? subject extends to Ax. Uxviii.

408 XOVUM ORGASUM. [BOOK I.

from the Greeks ; for the addition of the Roman, Arabic, or more
modern writers, are but few and of small importance, and such
as they are, are founded on the basis of Greek invention. But
the wisdom of the Greeks was professional and disputatious, and
thus most adverse to the investigation of truth. The name,
therefore, of sophists, which the contemptuous spirit of those
who deemed themselves philosophers, rejected and transferred
to the rhetoricians, — Gorgias,1 Protagoras, Hippias, Polus, —
might well suit the whole tribe, such as Plato, Aristotle, Zeno,
Epit-urus, Theophrastus, and their successors, — Chrysippus, Car-
n cades, and the rest. There was only this difference between
them, — the former were mercenary vagabonds, travelling about
to different states, making a show of their wisdom, and requiring
pay ; the latter more dignified and noble, in possession oi' fixed
habitations, opening schools, and teaching philosophy gratui
tously. Both, however (though differing in other respects), were
professorial, and reduced every subject to controversy, establish
ing and defending certain sects and dogmas of philosophy, so
that their doctrines were nearly (what Dionysius not unaptly
objected to Plato) the talk of idle old men to ignorant youths.
But the more ancient Greeks, as Empedocles, Anaxagoras,
Leucippus, Democritus, Parmenides, Heraclitus, Xenophanes,
Pliilolaus, and the rest*1 (for I omit Pythagoras as being super-

1 Gorgias of Leontium went to Athens in 424 B.C. He and Polus
were disciples of Empedocles, whom we have already noticed (Apho
rism 63), where he sustained the three famous propositions, that nothing
exists, that nothing can be known, and that it is out of the power of man
to transmit or communicate intelligence. He is reckoned one of the
earliest writers on the art of rhetoric, and for that reason, Plato called
his elegant dialogue on that subject after ^his name.

114 Chrysippus, a stoic philosopher of Soli in Cilicia, Campestris, born
in 280, died in the 143rd Olympiad, 208 B. C. He was equally distin
guished for natural abilities and industry, seldom suffering a day to
elapse without writing 500 lines. He wrote several hundred volumes,
of which three hundred were on logical subjects ; but in all, borrowed
largely from others. He was very fond of the sorites in argument,
which is hence called by Persius the heap of Chrysippus. He was called
the Column of the Portico, a name given to the Stoical School from
Zeno its founder, who had given his lessons under the portico. Ed.

Carneades, born about 215, died in 130. He attached himself to
Chrysippus, and sustained with eclat the scepticism of the academy.
The Athenians sent him with Critolaus and Diogenes as ambassador to
Rome, where lie attracted the attention of his new auditory by the sub-
tilty of his reasoning, and the fluency and vehemence of his language.
"Before Galba and Cato the Censor, he harangued with great variety of
thought and copiousness of diction in praise of justice. The next day,
to establish his doctrine of the uncertainty of human knowledge, he
undertook to refute a.11 h/'"! arguments. He maintained ^rith the

BOOK L] APHORISMS. 409

etitious), did not (that we are aware) open schools, but betook
themselves to the investigation of truth with greater silence and
with more severity and simplicity, that is, with less affectation
and ostentation. Hence in our opinion they acted more ad
visedly, however their works may have been eclipsed in course
of time by those lighter productions which better correspond
with and please the apprehensions and passions of the vulgar ;
for time, like a river,* bears down to us that which is light and
inflated, and sinks that which is heavy and solid. Nor wero
even these more ancient philosophers free from the national
defect, but inclined too much to the ambition and vanity of
forming a sect, and captivating public opinion, and we must
despair of any inquiry after truth whe"n it condescends to such
trifles. Nor must we omit the opinion, or rather prophecy, of
an Egyptian priest with regard to the Greeks, that they would
for ever remain children, without any antiquity of knowledge or
knowledge of antiquity; for they certainly have this in common
with children, that they are prone to talking, and incapable of
generation, their wisdom being loquacious and unproductive of

Academy, that the senses, the imagination, and the understanding fre
quently deceive us, and therefore cannot be infallible judges of truth,
but that from the impressions produced on the mind by means of the
senses, we infer appearances of truth or probabilities. Nevertheless,
with respect to the conduct of life, Carneades held that probable opinions
are a sufficient guide.

Xenophanes, a Greek philosopher, of Colophon, born in 556, the
founder of the Eleatic school, which owes its fame principally to Parme-
nides. Wild in his opinions about astronomy, lie supposed that the
stars were extinguished every morning, and rekindled at night ; that
eclipses were occasioned by the temporary extinction of the sun, and
that there were several suns for the convenience of the different
climates of the earth. Yet this man held the chair of philosophy at
Athens for seventy years.

Philolaus, a Pythagorian philosopher of Crotona, B.C. 374. He
first supported the diurnal motion of the earth round its axis, and its
annual motion round the sun. Cicero (Acad. iv. 39), has ascribed this
opinion to the Syracusan philosopher Nicetas, and likewise to Plato.
From this passage, it is most probable that Copernicus got the idea of
the system he afterwards established. Bacon, in the Advancement of
Human Learning, charges Gilbert with restoring the doctrines of Philo
laus, because he ventured to support the Copernican theory. Ed.

D Bacon is equally conspicuous for the use and abuse of analogical
illustrations. The levity, as Stuart Mi)1 very properly observes, by
which substances float on a stream, and the levity which is synonymous
with worthlessness, have nothing beside the name in common ; and to
show how little value there is in the figure, we need only change the
word into buoyancy, to turn the semblance of Bacon's argument

W,

410 KUVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I.

effects. Hence the external signs derived from the origin and
birthplace of our present philosophy are not favourable,

LXXII. Nor are those much better which can be deduced
from the character of the time and age, than the former from
that of the country and nation ; for in that age the knowledge
both of time and of the world was confined and meagre, which
is one of the worst evils for those who rely entirely on expe
rience, — they had not a thousand years of history worthy of
that name, but mere fables and ancient traditions ; they were
acquainted with but a small portion of the regions and countries
•of the world, for they indiscriminately called all nations situated
far towards the north Scythians, all those to the west Celts;
they knew nothing of Africa but the nearest part of Ethiopia, or
of Asia beyond the Ganges, and had not even heard any sure
and clear tradition of the regions of the New World. Besides, a
vast number of climates and zones, in which innumerable nations
live and breathe, were pronounced by them to be uninhabitable ;
nay, the travels of Democritus, Plato, and Pythagoras, which
were not extensive, but rather mere excursions from home, were
considered as something vast. But in our times many parts of
the New World, and every extremity of the Old are well known,
and the mass of experiments has been infinitely increased ; where
fore, if external signs were to be taken from the time of the
nativity or procreation (as in astrology), nothing extraordinary
could be predicted of these early systems of philosophy.

LXXIII. Of all si^ns there is none more certain or worthy
than that of the fruits produced, for the fruits and effects are
the sureties and vouchers, as it were, for the truth of philosophy.
Now, from the systems of the Greeks and their subordinate
divisions in particular branches of the sciences during so long a
period, scarcely one single experiment can be culled that has a
tendency to elevate or assist mankind, and can be fairly set
down to the speculations and doctrines of their philosophy.
Celsus candidly and wisely confesses as much, when he observes
that experiments were first discovered in medicine, and that
men aftenvards built their philosophical systems upon them, and
searched for and assigned causes, instead of the inverse method
of discovering and deriving experiments from philosophy and
the knowledge of causes ; it is not, therefore, wonderful that the
Egyptians (who bestowed divinity and sacred honours on the
authors of new inventions) should have consecrated more images
of brutes than of men, for the brutes by their natural instinct
made many discoveries, whilst men derived but few from discus
sion and the conclusions of reason.

The industry of the alchemists has produced some effect, by
chance, however, and casualty, or from varying their experi
ments (as mechanics also do), and not from any regular art of

BOOK L] APHORISMS, 411

theory, the theory they have imagined rather tending to disturb
than to assist experiment. Those, too, who have occupied them
selves with natural magic (as they term it) have made but few
discoveries, and those of small import, and bordering on impos
ture ; for which reason, in the same manner as we are cautioned
by religion to show our faith by our works, we may very pro
perly apply the principle to philosophy, and judge of it by its
works, accounting that to be futile which is unproductive, and
still more so if, instead of grapes and olives, it yield but the
thistle and thorns of dispute and contention.

LXXIV. Other signs may be selected from the increase and
progress of particular systems of philosophy and the sciences ;
for those which are founded on nature grow and increase, whilst
those which are founded on opinion change and increase not. If,
therefore, the theories we have mentioned were not like plants,
torn up by the roots, but grew in the womb of nature, and were
nourished by her, that which for the last two thousand years
has taken place would never have happened, namely, that the
sciences still continue in their beaten track, and nearly sta
tionary, without having received any important increase, nay,
having on the contrary rather bloomed under the hands of their
first author, and then faded away. But we see that the case is
reversed in the mechanical arts, which are founded on nature
and the light of experience, for they (as long as they are popular)
seem full of life, and uninterruptedly thrive and grow, being at
first rude, then convenient, lastly polished, and perpetually im
proved.

LXXV. There is yet another sign (if such it may be termed,
being rather an evidence, and one of the strongest nature),
namely, the actual confession of those very authorities whom
men now follow; for even they who decide on things so daringly,
yet at times, when they reflect, betake themselves to complaints
about the subtilty of nature, the obscurity of things, and the
weakness of man's wit. If they would merely do this, they
might perhaps deter those who are of a timid disposition from
further inquiry, but would excite and stimulate those of a more
active and confident turn to further advances. They are not,
however, satisfied with confessing so much of themselves, but
consider everything which has been either unknown or unat-
tempted by themselves or their teachers, as beyond the limits of
possibility, and thus, with most consummate pride and envy,
convert the defects of their own discoveries into a calumny on
nature and a source of despair to every one else. Hence arose
the New Academy, which openly professed scepticism,® and con-

0 We have before observed, that the New Academy did not profesa
scepticism, but the d(cara\^^/(a; or iDCompreber.sibiJity oi the absoIuU

413 NOVUM OPGANUM. [BOOK L

signed mankind to eternal darkness; hence tlie notion th-at
forms, or the true differences of things (which are in fact the
laws of simple action), are beyond man's reach, and cannot pos
sibly be discovered ; hence those notions in the active and ope«
rative branches, that the heat of the sun and of fire are totally
different, so as to prevent men from supposing that they can
elicit or form, by means of fire, anything similar to the opera
tions of nature ; and again, that composition only is the work of
man and mixture of nature, so as to prevent men from expecting
the generation or transformation of natural bodies by art. Men
will, therefore, easily allow themselves to be persuaded by this
sign not to engage their fortunes and labour in speculations,
which are not only desperate, but actually devoted to despe
ration.

LXXVI. Nor should we omit the sign afforded by the great
dissension formerly prevalent among philosophers, and the
variety of schools, which sufficiently show that the way was not
well prepared that leads from the senses to the understanding,
since the same ground-work of philosophy (namely, the nature
of things), was torn and divided into such widely differing and
multifarious errors. And although in these days the dissensions
and differences of opinions with regard to first principles and
entire systems are nearly extinct,p yet there remain innumerable
questions and controversies with regard to particular branches of
philosophy. So that it is manifest that there is nothing sure or
sound either in the systems themselves or in the methods of
demonstration*

LXXVII. With regard to the supposition that there is a
general unanimity as to the philosophy of Aristotle, because the
other systems of the ancients ceased and became obsolete on its
promulgation, and nothing better has been since discovered ;
whence it appears that it is so well determined and founded, as
to have united the suffrages of both ages ; we will observe —
1st. That the notion of other ancient systems having ceased after
the publication of the works of Aristotle is false, for the works

essences of things. Even modern physicists are not wanting, to assert
with this school that the utmost knowledge we can obtain is relative,
and necessarily short of absolute certainty. It is not without an ap
pearance of truth that these philosophers maintain that our ideas and
perceptions do not express the nature of the things which they repre
sent, but only the effects of the peculiar organs by which they are con
veyed to the understanding, so that were these organs changed, we
should have different conceptions of their nature. That cone tituticn
of air which is dark to man is luminous to bats and owls.

P Owing to the universal prevalence of Aristotelism.

i It must be remembered, that when Bacon wrote, algebra was in Ltj
to&ruvv, a»d the doctrine of units *nd infinitesimals undiscovered.

BOOK I.] APHORISMS* 413

of the ancient philosophers subsisted Ion* after that event, even
to the time of Cicero, and the subsequent ages. But at a later
period, when human learning had, as it were, been wrecked in
the inundation of barbarians into the Homan empire, then th<»
systems of Aristotle and Plato were preserved in the waves o..
ages, like planks of a lighter and less solid nature. 2nd. The
notion of unanimity, on a clear inspection, is found to be
fallacious. For true unanimity is that which proceeds from
a free judgment, arriving at the same conclusion, after an in
vestigation of the fact. Now, by far the greater number of
those who have assented to the philosophy of Aristotle, have
bound themselves down to it from prejudice and the authority of
others, so that it is rather obsequiousness and concurrence than
unanimity. But even if it were real and extensive unanimity,
so far from being esteemed a true and solid confirmation, it should
even lead to a violent presumption to the contrary. For there
is no worse augury in intellectual matters than that derived from
unanimity, with the exception of divinity and politics, where
suffrages are allowed to decide. For nothing pleases the multi
tude, unless it strike the imagination or bind down the under
standing, as we have observed above, with the shackles of vulgar
notions. Hence we may well transfer Phocion's remark from
morals to the intellect ; " That men should immediately examine
what error or fault they have committed, when the multitude
concurs with, and applauds them."* This then is one of the
most unfavourable signs. All the signs, therefore, of the truth
and soundness of the received systems of philosophy and the
sciences are unpropitioun, whether taken from their origin, their
fruits, their progress, the confessions of their authors, or from
unanimity.

LXX VIII. We now come to the causes of errors,* and of such
perseverance in them for ages. These are sufficiently numerous
and powerful to remove all wonder, that what we now offer
should have so long been concealed from, and have escaped the
notice of mankind, and to 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. But, in the
first place, the number of ages is reduced to very narrow limits,
on a proper consideration of the matter. For out of twenty-five *

' Because the vulgar make up the overwhelming majority in such
decisions, and generally allow their judgments to be swayed by passion
»r prejudice.

• See end of Axiom Ixi. The subject extends to Axiom xc.

* If we adopt the statement of Herodotus, who places the Homeric

-1 1 4 KovtjM OfcGANUM. [BOOK: t.

centuries, with which the memory and learning of man are
conversant, scarcely six can be set apart and selected as fertile
in science and favourable to its progress. For there are deserts
and wastes in times as in countries, and we can only reckon up
three revolutions and epochs of philosophy. 1. The Greek.
2. The Roman. 3. Our own, that is the philosophy of the
western nations of Europe : and scarcely two centuries can with
justice be assigned to each. The intermediate ages of the world
were unfortunate both in the quantity and richness of the
sciences produced. Nor need we mention the Arabs, or the
scholastic philosophy, which, in those ages, ground down the
sciences by their numerous treatises, more than they increased
their weight. The first cause, then, of such insigniilcant pro
gress in the sciences, is rightly referred to the small proportion
cf time which has been favourable thereto.

LXXIX. A second cause offers itself, which is certainly of
the greatest importance ; namely, that in those very ages in
which men's wit and literature flourished considerably, or even
moderately, but a small part of their industry was bestowed on
natural philosophy, the great mother of the sciences. For
every art and science torn from this root may, perhaps, be
polished, and put into a serviceable shape, but can admit of
little growth. It is well known, that after the Christian religion
had been acknowledged, and arrived at maturity, by far the best
wits were busied upon theology, where the highest rewards
offered themselves, and every species of assistance was abun
dantly supplied, and the study of which was the principal
occupation of the western European nations during the third
epoch ; the rather because literature flourished about the very
time when controversies concerning religion first began to bud
forth. 2. In the preceding ages, during the second epoch (that
of the Romans), philosophical meditation and labour was chiefly

era 400 years back from his time, Homer lived about 900 years before
Christ. On adding this number to the sixteen centuries of the Chris
tian era which had elapsed up to Bacon's time, we get the twenty-five
centuries he mentions. The Homeric epoch is the furthest point in
antiquity from which Bacon could reckon with any degree of certainty.
Hesiod, if he were not contemporary, immediately preceded him.

The epoch of Greek philosophy may be included between Thales
and Plato, that is, from the 35th to the SSth Olympiad ; that of the
Koman, between Terence and Pliny. The modern revolution, in which
Bacon is one of the central figures, took its rise from the time of Dante
and Petrarch, who lived at the commencement of the fourteenth cen
tury ; and to which, on account of the invention of printing, and the
universal spread of literature, which has rendered a second destruction
of learning impossible, if. is difficult to foresee any other end than tb«
extinction' of the race of man. Ed.

BOOK t] APilOUlSMfl, 415

occupied and wasted in moral philosophy (the theology of the
heathens) : besides, the greatest minds in these times applied
themselves to civil affairs, on account of the magnitude of the
Roman empire, which required the labour of many. 3. The ago
during which natural philosophy appeared principally to nourish
among the Greeks, was but a short period, since in the more
ancient times the seven sages (with the exception of Thales),
applied themselves to moral philosophy and politics, and at a
later period, after Socrates had brought down philosophy from
heaven to earth, moral philosophy became more prevalent, and
diverted men's attention from natural. Nay, the very period
during which physical inquiries flourished, was corrupted and
rendered useless by contradictions, and the ambition of new
opinions. Since, therefore, during these three epochs, natural
philosophy has been materially neglected or impeded, it is not at
all surprising that men should have made but little progress in
it, seeing they were attending to an entirely different matter.

LXXX. Add to this that natural philosophy, especially of
late, has seldom gained exclusive possession of an individual free
from all other pursuits, even amongst those who have applied
themselves to it, unless there may be an example or two of some
monk studying in his cell, or some nobleman in his villa." She
has rather been made a passage and bridge to other pursuits.

Thus has this great mother of the sciences been degraded most
unworthily to the situation of an handmaid, and made to wait
upon medicine or mathematical operations, and to wash the
immature minds of youth, and imbue them with a first dye, that
they may afterwards be more ready to receive and retain another.
In the mean time, let no one expect any great progress in the
sciences (especially their operative part), unless natural philo
sophy be applied to particular sciences, and particular sciences
again referred back to natural philosophy. For want of this,
astronomy, optics, music, many mechanical arts, medicine itself,
and (what perhaps is more wonderful), moral and political philo
sophy, and the logical sciences have no depth, but only glide
over the surface and variety of tilings ; because these sciences,
when they have been once partitioned out and established, are-
no longer nourished by natural philosophy, which would have
imparted fresh vigour and growth to them from the sources and
genuine contemplation of motion, rays, sounds, texture, and
conformation of bodies, and the affections and capacity of the
understanding. But we can little wonder that the sciences grow
not when separated from their roots.

LXXXI. There is another powerful and great cause of the
little advancement of the sciences, which is this ; it is impossible

• Ths allusion is evidently to Roger Bacon and Re"ne Descartes. Ed.

-HH KOVUM OtlGANUM. [BOOK 1.

to advance properly in the course TV lien the goal 13 not properly
fixed. But tiio-real and legitimate goal of the sciences, is the
endowment of human life with new inventions and ricTies. "The
great crowd of teachers know notliing of this, but" "consist of
dictatorial hirelings ; unless it so happen that some artisan of an
acute genius, and ambitious of fame, gives up his time to a new
discovery, which is generally attended with a loss of property.
The majority, so far from proposing to themselves the augmenta
tion of the mass of arts and sciences, make no other use of an
inquiry into the mass already before them, than is afforded by
the conversion of it to some use in their lectures, or to gain, or
to the acquirement of a name, and the like. But if one out of
the multitude be found, who courts science from real zeal, and
on his own account, even he will be seen rather to follow con
templation, and the variety of theories, than a severe and strict
investigation of truth. Again, if there even be an unusually
strict investigator of truth, yet will he propose to himself, as the
test of truth, the satisfaction of his mind and understanding, as
to the causes of things long since known, and not such a test as
to lead to some new earnest of effects, and a new light in
axioms. If, therefore, no one have laid down the real end of
science, we cannot wonder that there should be error in points
subordinate to that end.

LXXXIL But, in like manner, as the end and goal of science
is ill defined, so, even were the case otherwise, men have chosen
an erroneous and impassable direction. For it is sufficient to
astonish any reflecting mind, that nobody should have cared
or wished to open and complete a way for the understanding, set
ting off from the senses, and regular, well conducted experiment;
but that everything has been abandoned either to the mists of
tradition, the whirl and confusion of argument, or the waves and
mazes of chance, and desultory, ill combined experiment. Now,
let any one but consider soberly and diligently the nature of the
path men have been accustomed to pursue in the investigation
and discovery of any matter, and he will doubtless first observe
the rude and inartificial manner of discovery most familiar to
mankind : which is no other than this. When any one prepares
himself for discovery, he first inquires and obtains a full account
of all that has been said on the subject by others, then adds his
own reflections, and stirs up and, as it were, invokes his own
spirit, after much mental labour, to disclose its oracles. All
vhich is a method without foundation, and merely turns on
opinion.

Another, perhaps, calls in logic to assist him in discovery,
which bears only a nominal relation to his purpose. For the
discoveries of logic are not discoveries of principles and leading

BOOK I.J Al'HOfclSMS. 417

axioms, but only of what appears to accord with them.3 Anc
when men become curious and importunate, and give trouble,
interrupting her about her proofs, and the discovery of principles
or first axioms, she puts them off with her usual answer, re
ferring them to faith, and ordering them to swear allegiance to
each art in its own department.

There remains but mere experience, which, when it offers
itself, is called chance ; when it is sought after, experiment.7
But this kind of experience is nothing but a loose faggot; and
mere groping in the dark, as wen at night try all means of dis
covering the right road, whilst it would be better and more
prudent either to wait for day, or procure a light, and then
proceed. On the contrary, the real order of experience begins
oy setting up a light, and then shows the road by it, commencing
with a regulated and digested, not a misplaced and vague course
of experiment, and thence deducing axioms, and from those
axioms new experiments : for not even the divine word pro
ceeded to operate on the general mass of things without due
order.

Let men, therefore, cease to wonder if the whole course of
science be not run, when all have wandered from the path ;
quitting it entirely, and deserting experience, or involving them
selves in its mazes, and wandering about, whilst a regularly
combined system would lead them in a sure track through its
wilds to the open day of axioms.

LXXXIII. The evil, however, has been wonderfully increased
by an opinion, or inveterate conceit, which is both vaiiigloriou?
and prejudicial, namely, that the dignity of the human mind i'
lowered by long and frequent intercourse with experiments
and particulars, which are the objects of sense, and confined to
matter ; especially since such matters generally require labour
in investigation, are mean subjects for meditation, harsh in
discourse, unproductive in practice, infinite in number, and
delicate in their subtilty. Hence we have seen the true path
not only deserted, but intercepted and blocked up, experience
being rejected with disgust, and not merely neglected or im
properly applied.

LXXX1V. Again, the reverence for antiquity,1 and the
authority of men who have been esteemed gneat in philosophy,
and general unanimity, have retarded men from advancing in
science, and almost 'enchanted them. As to unanimity, we
have spoken of it above.

The opinion which men cherish of antiquity is altogether idle,

* From the abuse of the scholastics, who mistook the d priori
method, the deductive syllogism for the entire province of logic. Ed.

7 See Aphorism xcv.

• The incongruity to which Bacon alludes appears to spring from

418 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I.

and scarcely accords with the term. For the old age and in
creasing years of the world should in reality be considered as
antiquity, and this is rather the character of our own times than
of the less advanced age of the world in those of the ancients;
for the latter, with respect to ourselves, are ancient and elder,
with respect to the world modern and younger. And as we
expect a greater knowledge of human affairs, and more mature
judgment from an old man than from a youth, on account of his
experience, and the variety and number of things he has seen,
heard, and meditated upon, so we have reason to expect much
greater things of our own age (if it knew but its strength and
would essay and exert it) than from antiquity, since the world
has grown older, and its stock has been increased and accumu
lated with an infinite number of experiments and observations.

We must also take into our consideration that many objects in
nature fit to throw light upon philosophy have been exposed to
our view, and discovered by means of long voyages and travels,
in which our times have abounded. It would, indeed, be dis
honourable to mankind, if the regions of the material globe, the
earth, the sea, and stars, should be so prodigiously developed and
illustrated in our age, and yet the boundaries of the intellectual
globe should be confined to the narrow discoveries of the
ancients.

With regard to authority, it is the greatest weakness to attri
bute infinite credit to particular authors, and to refuse his own
prerogative to time, the author of all authors, and, therefore, of
all authority. 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.

LXXXV. Nor is it only the admiration of antiquity, authority,
and unanimity, that has forced man's industry to rest satisfied
with present discoveries, but, also, the admiration of the effects
already placed within his power. For whoever passes in review
the variety of subjects, and the beautiful apparatus collected and
introduced by the mechanical arts for the service of mankind,
will certainly be rather inclined to admire our wealth than to
perceive our poverty : not considering that the observations of
man and operations of nature (which are the souls and first
movers of that variety) are few, and not of deep research ; the
rest must be attributed merely to man's patience, and the deli-
confounding two things, which are not only distinct, but affect numan
knowledge in inverse proportion, viz., the experience which terminates
with life, with that experience which one e* ntury transmits to another
.&>.

BOOK I.j APHORISMS. 419

cate and well regulated motion of the hand or of instruments.
To take an instance, the manufacture of clocks is delicate and
accurate, and appears to imitate the heavenly bodies in its wheels,
and the pulse of animals in its regular oscillation, yet it only
depends upon one or two axioms of nature.

Again, if one consider the refinement of the liberal arts, or
even that exhibited in the preparation of natural bodies in me
chanical arts and the like, as the discovery of the heavenly
motions in astronomy, of harmony in music, of the letters of the
alphabet* (still unadopted by the Chinese) in grammar; or,
again, in mechanical operations, the productions of Bacchus and
Ceres, that is, the preparation of wine and beer, the making of
bread, or even the luxuries of the table, distillation, and the like;
if one reflect also, and consider for how long a period of ages (for
all the above, except distillation, are ancient) these things have
been brought to their present state of perfection, and (as we
instanced in clocks) to how few observations and axioms of nature
they may be referred, and how easily, and as it were, by obvious
chance or contemplation, they might be discovered, one would
scon cease to admire and rather pity the human lot on account
of its vast want and dearth of things and discoveries for so many
ages. Yet even the discoveries we have mentioned were more
ancient than philosophy and the intellectual arts ; so that, (to
say the truth) when contemplation and doctrinal science began,
the discovery of useful works ceased.

But if any one turn from the manufactories to libraries, and
be inclined to admire the immense variety of books offered to our
view, let him but examine and diligently inspect the matter and
contents of these books, and his astonishment will certainly
change its object : for when he finds no end of repetitions, ami
how much men do and speak the same thing over again, he will
pass from admiration of this variety to astonishment at tin1
poverty and scarcity of matter, which has hitherto possessed and
filled men's minds.

But if any one should condescend to consider such sciences as
are deemed rather curious than sound, and take a full vie\v of
the operations of the alchymists or magi, he will perhaps hesi
tate whether he ought rather to laugh or to weep. .For tho
alchemist cherishes eternal hope, and when his labours succeed
not, accuses his own mistakes, deeming, in his self-accusation,
that he has not properly understood the words of art or of his
authors ; upon which he listens to tradition and vague whispers,
or imagines there is some slight unsteadiness in the minute
details of his practice, and then has recourse to an endless repe-

* The Chinese characters resemble, in many respects, the hicro
glyphic3 of the Egyptians, being adapted to represent ideas, not sound*

2 2 E 2

420 KOVUM OtlGANUM. [BOOK I.

tition of experiments : and in the mean time, when, in his casual
experiments, he falls upon something in appearance new, or of
some degree of utility, he consoles himself with such an earnest,
and ostentatiously publishes them, keeping up his hope of the
final result. Nor can it be denied that the alchemists have
made several discoveries, and presented mankind with useful
inventions. But we may well apply to them the fable of the old
man, who bequeathed to his sons some gold buried in his garden,
pretending not to know the exact spot, whereupon they worked
diligently in digging the vineyard, and though they found no
gold, the vintage was rendered more abundant by their labour.

The followers of natural magic, who explain everything bv
sympathy and antipathy, have assigned false powers and mar
vellous operations to things by gratuitous and idle conjectures :
and if they have ever produced any effects, they are rather
wonderful and novel than of any real benefit or utility.

In superstitious magic (if we say anything at all about it) we
must chiefly observe, that there are only some peculiar and
definite objects with which the curious and superstitious arts
have, in every nation and age, and even under every religion,
been able to exercise and amuse themselves. Let us, therefore,
pass them over. In the mean time we cannot wonder that the
false notion of plenty should have occasioned want.

LXXXVI. The admiration of mankind with regard to the
arts and sciences, which is of itself sufficiently simple and almost
puerile, has been increased by the craft and artifices of those who
have treated the sciences, and delivered them down to posterity.
For they propose and produce them to our view so fashioned,
and as it were masked, as to make them pass for perfect and
complete. For if you consider their method and divisions, they
appear to embrace and comprise everything which can relate to
the subject. And although this frame be badly filled up and
resemble an empty bladder, yet it presents to the vulgar under
standing the form and appearance of a perfect science.

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 uncon
nected by any method, and without pretending or professing to
comprehend any entire art. But according to the present system,
we cannot wonder that men seek nothing beyond that which is
handed down to them as perfect, and already extended to its full
complement.

LXXXVIL The ancient theories have received additional
Support and credit from the absurdity and levity of those who
Have promoted the new, especially in the active and practical
part of natural philosophy. For there have been many silly and

BOOK l.J APHORISMS. 421

fantastical fellows who, from credulity or imposture, have loaded
mankind with promises, announcing and boasting of the pro
longation of life, the retarding of old age, the alleviation of pains,
the remedying of natural defects, the deception of the senses, the
restraint and excitement of the passions, the illumination and
exaltation of the intellectual faculties, the transmutation of sub
stances, the unlimited intensity and multiplication of motion, the
impressions and changes of the air, the bringing into our power
the management of celestial influences, the divination of future
events, the representation of distant objects, the revelation of
hidden objects, and the like. One would not be very wrong in
observing with regard to such pretenders, that there is as much
difference in philosophy, between their absurdity and real sci
ence, as there is in history between the exploits of Csesar or
Alexander, and those of Amadis do Gaul and Arthur of Britain.
For those illustrious generals are found to have actually per
formed greater exploits than such fictitious heroes are even pre
tended to have accomplished, by the means, however, of real
action, and not by any fabulous and portentous power. Yet it
is not right to suffer our belief in true history to oe diminished,
because it is sometimes injured and violated by fables. In the
mean time we cannot wonder that great prejudice has been ex
cited against any new propositions (especially when coupled with
any mention of effects to be produced), by the conduct of impos
tors who have made a similar attempt ; for their extreme absur
dity, and the disgust occasioned by it, has even to this day over
powered every spirited attempt of the kind.

LXXXVIII. Want of energy, and the littleness and futility
of the tasks that human industry has undertaken, have produced
much greater injury to the sciences: and yet (to make it still
worse) that very want of energy manifests itself in conjunction
with arrogance and disdain.

For, in the first place, one excuse, now from its repetition
become familiar, is to be observed in every art, namelv, that its
promoters convert the weakness of the art itself into a calumny
*jpon nature : and whatever it in their hands fails to effect, they
pronounce to be physically impossible. But how can the art
cArer be condemned whilst it acts as judge in its own cause?
Even the present system of philosophy cherishes in its bosom
certain positions or dogmas, which (it will be found on diligent
inquiry) are calculated to produce a full conviction that no diiii-
<rult, commanding, and powerful operation upon nature ought to
be anticipated through the means of art; we instanced* above
the alleged different quality of heat in the sun and fire, and
compositiou and mixture. Upon an accurate observation the

b See Axiom 75-

422 NOVUM ORGANUM. [fiOOX I.

whole tendency of such positions is wilfully to circumscribe man's
power, and to produce a despair of the means of invention and
contrivance, which would not only confound the promises of hope,
but cut the very springs and sinews of industry, and throw aside
even the chances of experience. The only object of such philo
sophers is to acquire the reputation of perfection for their own
art, and they are anxious to obtain the most silly and abandoned
renown, by causing a belief that whatever has not yet been in
vented and understood can never be so hereafter. But if any
one attempt to give himself up to things, and to discover some
thing new, yet he will only propose and destine for his object
the investigation and discovery of some one invention, and
nothing more ; as the nature of the magnet, the tides, the hea
venly system, and the like, which appear enveloped in some de
gree of mystery, and have hitherto been treated with but little
success. '.Now it is the greatest proof of want of skill, to inves
tigate the nature of any object in itself alone ; for that same
nature, which seems concealed and hidden in some instances, is
manifest and almost palpable in others, and excites wonder in
the former, whilst it hardly attracts attention in the latter.® Thus
the nature of consistency is scarcely observed in wood or stone,
but passed over by the term solid without any further inquiry
about the repulsion of separation or the solution of continuity.
But in water-bubbles the same circumstance appears matter of
delicate and ingenious research, for they form themselves into thin
pellicles, curiously shaped into hemispheres, so as for an instant
to avoid the solution of continuity.

In general those very things which are considered as secret
are manifest and common in other objects, but will never be
clearly seen if the experiments and contemplation of man be
directed to themselves only. Yet it commonly happens, that if,
in the mechanical arts, any one bring old discoveries to a finer
polish, or more elegant height of ornament, or unite and com
pound them, or apply them more readily to practice, or exhibit
them on a less heavy and voluminous scale, and the like, they
will pass off as new.

We cannot therefore, wonder that no magnificent discoveries,
worthy of mankind, have been brought to light, whilst men are
satisfied and delighted with such scanty and puerile tasks, nay,

c The methods by which Newton carried the rule and compass to
the boundaries of creation is a sufficient comment on the sagacity of the
text. The same cause wl ich globulizes a bubble, has rounded the
earth, and the same law which draws a stone to its surface, keeps the
moon in her orbit. It was by calculating and ascertaining these prin
ciples upon substances entirely at his disposal that this great philo
sopher was enabled to give u« a key to unlock the mysteries of tk«
universe. £d.

BOOK I.] APHORISMS.

even tliink that they have pursued or attained some great object
in their accomplishment.

LXXXIX. Nor should we neglect to observe that natural
philosophy has, in every age, met with a troublesome and difii
cult opponent : I mean superstition, and a blind and immoderatt
zeal for religion. For we see that, among the Greeks, those who
first disclosed the natural causes of thunder and storms to the
yet untrained ears of man were condemned as guilty of impiety
towards the gods.d Nor did some of the old fathers of Chris
tianity treat those much better who showed by the most positive
proofs (such as no one now disputes) that the earth is spherical,
and thence asserted that there were antipodes.*

Even in the present state of things the condition of discussions
on natural philosophy is rendered more difficult and dangerous
by the summaries and methods of divines, who, after reducing
divinity into such order as they could, and brought it into a sci
entific form, have proceeded to mingle an undue proportion of
the contentious and thorny philosophy of Aristotle with the sub
stance of religion.'

The fictions of those who have not feared to deduce and con
firm the truth of the Christian religion by the principles and
authority of philosophers, tend to the same end, though in a
different manner.* They celebrate the union of faith and the
senses as though it were legitimate, with great pomp and solem
nity, and gratify men's pleasing minds with a variety, but in the
meantime confound most improperly things divine and human.
Moreover, in these mixtures of divinity and philosophy the re
ceived doctrines of the latter are alone included, and any novelty,

d See the " Clouds" of Aristophanes, where Socrates is represented as
chasing Jupiter out of the sky, by resolving thunder-storms into aerial
concussions and whirlwinds. Ed.

e Eobespcerre was the latest victim of this bigotry. In his younger
days he attempted to introduce Franklin's lightning conductor into
France, but was persecuted by those whose lives he sought to protect,
as one audaciously striving to avert the designs of Providence. Ed.

1 We can hardly agree with the text. The scholastics, in building
up a system of divinity, certainly had recourse to the deductive syllo
gism, because the inductive was totally inapplicable, except as a verifi-
catory process. With regard to the technical form in which they mar
shalled their arguments, which is what our author aims at in his censure,
they owed nothing at all to Aristotle, the conducting a dispute in
naked syllogistic fashion having originated entirely with themselves. Ed.

s Bacon cannot be supposed to allude to those divines who have
attempted to show that the progress of physical science is confirmatory
of revelation, but only to such as have built up a system of faith out of
their own refinements on nature and revelation, as Patricius and
Eraanuel Swedenborg. £d.

424 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I.

even though it be an improvement, scarcely escapes banishment
and extermination.

In short, you may find all access to any species of philosophy,
however pure, intercepted by the ignorance of divines. Some in
their simplicity are apprehensive that a too deep inquiry into
nature may penetrate beyond the proper bounds of decorum,
transferring and absurdly applying what is said of sacred mys
teries in Holy Writ against those who pry into divine secrets, to
the mysteries of nature, which are not forbidden by any prohi
bition. Others with more cunning imagine and consider, that if
secondary causes be unknown, everything may more easily be
referred to the Divine hand and wand, a matter, as they think,
of the greatest consequence to religion, but which can only really
mean that God wishes to be gratified by means of falsehood.
Others fear, from past example, lest motion and change in philo
sophy should terminate in an attack upon religion. Lastly, there
are others who appear anxious lest there should be something
discovered in the investigation of nature to overthrow, or at least
shake, religion, particularly among the unlearned. The two last
apprehensions appear to resemble animal instinct, as if men were
diffident, in the bottom of their minds and secret meditations, of
the strength of religion and the empire of faith over the senses,
and therefore feared that some danger awaited them from an
inquiry into nature. But any one who properly considers the
subject will find natural philosophy to be, after the Word of
God, the surest remedy against superstition, and the most ap
proved support of faith. She is, therefore, rightly bestowed
upon religion as a most faithful attendant, for the one exhibits
the will and the other the power of God. Nor was he wrong
who observed, "Ye err, not knowing the Scriptures and the
power of God," thus uniting in one bond the revelation of his
will and the contemplation of his power. In the meanwhile, it
is not wonderful that the progress of natural philosophy has
been restrained, since religion, which has so much influence on
men's minds, has been led and hurried to oppose her through
the ignorance of some and the imprudent zeal of others.

XC. Again, in the habits and regulations of schools, univer
sities, and the like assemblies, destined for the abode of learned
men and the improvement of learning, everything is found to bo
opposed to the progress of the sciences ; for the lectures and
exercises are so ordered, that anything out of the common track
can scarcely enter the thoughts and contemplations of the mind.
If, however, one or two have perhaps dared to use their liberty,
they can only impose the labour on themselves, without deriving
cny advantage from the association of others ; and if they put
up with this, they will find their industry and spirit of no slight
disadvantage to them in making their fortune j for the pursuit*

BOOK I.I AfHORISMS. 423

of men in such situations are, as it were, chained down to tlia
writings of particular authors, and if any one dare to dissent
from them he is immediately attacked as a turbulent and revolu
tionary spirit. Yet how great is the difference between civil
matters and the arts, for there is not the same danger from new-
activity and new light. In civil matters even a change for the
better is suspected on account of the commotion it occasions, for
civil government is supported by authority, unanimity, fame,
and public opinion, and not by demonstration. In the arts and
sciences, on the contrary, every department should resound, as
in mines, with new works and advances. And this is the ra
tional, though not the actual view of the case, for that adminis
tration and government of science we have spoken of is wont too
rigorously to repress its growth.

XCI. And even should the odium I have alluded to be
avoided, yet it is sufficient to repress the increase of science
that such attempts and industry pass unrewarded ; for the culti
vation of science and its reward belong not to the same indivi
dual. The advancement of science is the work of a powerful
genius, the prize and reward belong to the vulgar or to princes,
who (with a few exceptions) are scarcely moderately well in
formed. Nay, such progress is not only deprived of the rewards
and beneficence of individuals, but even of popular praise ; for it
is above the reach of the generality, and easily overwhelmed and
extinguished by the winds of common opinions. It is not won
derful, therefore, that little success has attended that which has
been little honoured.

XCII. But by far the greatest obstacle to the advancement of
the sciences, and the undertaking of any new attempt or depart
ment, is to be found in men's despair and the idea of impos
sibility; for men of a prudent and exact turn of thought are
altogether diffident in matters of this nature, considering the
obscurity of nature, the shortness of life, the deception of the
senses, and weakness of the judgment. They think, therefore,
that in the revolutions of ages and of the world there are certain
floods and ebbs of the sciences, and that they grow and flourish
at one time, and wither and fall off at another, that when they
have attained a certain degree and condition they can proceed
no further.

If, therefore, any one believe or promise greater things, they
impute it to an uncurbed and immature mind, and imagine that
such efforts begin pleasantly, then become laborious, and end in
confusion. And since such thoughts easily enter the minds of
men of dignity and excellent iudgment, we must really take heed
lest we should be eaptivated by our affection for an excellent
«id ir.ost beautiful object, and relax or diminish the severity of
our judgment; and we must diligently examine what gleam of

426 KOTO; OHOANUM. [noo:: i.

hope shines upon us, and in what direction it manifests itself, so
that, banishing her lighter dreams, we may discuss and weigh
whatever appears of more sound importance. We must consult
the prudence of ordinary life, too, which is diffident upon prin
ciple, and in all human matters augurs the worst. Let us, then,
speak of hope, especially as we are not vain promisers, nor are
willing to enforce or ensnare men's judgment, but would rather
lead them willingly forward. And although we shall employ the
most cogent means of enforcing hope when we bring them to
particulars, and especially those which are digested and arranged
in our Tables of Invention (the subject partly of the second, but
principally of the fourth part of the Instauration), which are,
indeed, rather the very object of our hopes than hope itself; yet
to proceed more leniently we must treat of the preparation of
men's minds, of which the manifestation of hope forms no slight
part ; for without it all that we have said tends rather to produce
a gloom than to encourage activity or quicken the industry of
experiment, by causing them to have a worse and more contemp
tuous opinion of things as they are than they now entertain, and
to perceive and feel more thoroughly their unfortunate condition.
We must, therefore, disclose and prefix our reasons for not
thinking the hope of success improbable, as Columbus, before
his wonderful voyage over the Atlantic, gave the reasons of his
conviction that new lands and continents might be discovered
besides those already known ; and these reasons, though at first
rejected, were yet proved by subsequent experience, and were
the causes and beginnings of the greatest events.

XCIII. Let us begin from God, and show that our pursuit
from its exceeding goodness clearly proceeds from him, the
author of good and father of light. JS"ow, in all divine works the
smallest beginnings lead assuredly to some result, and the remark
in spiritual matters that " the kingdom of God cometh without
observation," is also found to be true in every great work of
Divine Providence, so that everything glides quietly on without
confusion or noise, and the matter is achieved before men either
think or perceive that it is commenced. Nor should we neglect
to mention the prophecy of Daniel, of the last days of the world,
" Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased,"*
thus plainly hinting arid suggesting that fate (which is Providence)
would cause the complete circuit of the globe (now accomplished.
or at least going forward by means of so many distant voyages),
and the increase of learning to happen at the same epoch.

XCIV. We will next give a most potent reason for hope
deduced from the errors of the past, and the ways still un
at tempted; for well was an ill-governed state thus reproved,

b Daniel xii. 4.

BOOK I.] APHORISMS. 427

" Tiiat which is worst with regard to the past should appear
most consolatory for the future ; for if you had done all that
your duty commanded, and your affairs proceeded no better,
you could not even hope for their improvement : but since their
present unhappy situation is not owing to the force of circum
stances, but to your own errors, you have reason to hope that
by banishing or correcting the latter you can produce a great
change for the better in the former." So if men had, during
the many years that have elapsed, adhered to the right way of
discovering and cultivating the sciences without being able to
advance, it would be assuredly bold and presumptuous to ima
gine it possible to improve ; but if they have mistaken the way
and wasted their labour on improper objects, it follows that the
difficulty does not arise from things themselves, which are not in
our power, but from the human understanding, its practice and
application, which is susceptible of remedy and correction. Our
best plan, therefore, is to expose these errors ; for in proportion
as they impeded the past, so do they afford reason to hope for
the future. And although we have touched upon them above,
yet we think it right to give a brief, bare, and simple enumera
tion of them in this place.

XCV. Those who have treated of the sciences have been
either empirics or dogmatical.1 The former like ants only heap
up and use their store, the latter like spiders spin out their own
webs. The bee, a mean between both, extracts matter from the
flowers of the garden and the field, but works and fashions it by
its own efforts. The true labour of philosophy resembles hers,
for it neither relies entirely or principally on the powers of the
mind, nor yet lays up in the memory the matter afforded by the
experiments of natural history and mechanics in its raw state,
but changes and works it in the understanding. AVe have good
reason, therefore, to derive hope from a closer and purer alliance
of these faculties (the experimental and rational) than has yet
been attempted.

XCVI. Katural philosophy is not yet to be found unadulter
ated, but is impure and corrupted, — by logic in the school of
Aristotle, by natural theology in that of Plato,k by mathematics

1 Bacon, in this Aphorism, appears to have entertained a fair idea of
the use of the inductive and deductive methods in scientific inquiry,
though his want of geometrical knowledge must have hindered him
from accurately determining the precise functions of each, as it cer
tainly led him in other parts of the Organon (V. Aph. 82), to under
value the deductive, and, as he calls it, the dogmatic method, and to
rely too much upon empiricism. Ed.

k The reader may consult the note of the 23rd Aphorism for the
fault which Bacon censures, and, if he wish to pursue the subject
further, may re id Plato's Tiiuunw, where that philosopher explain? hjy

42S NOVUM ORGANUM. [iJOOiv I.

in the second school of Plato (that of Proclus and others)1 which
ought rather to terminate natural philosophy than to generate
or create it. "We may, therefore, hope for better results from
pure and unmixed natural philosophy.

XCVII. No one has yet been found possessed of sufficient
firmness and severity to resolve upon and undertake the task of
entirely abolishing common theories and notions, and applying
the mind afresh, when thus cleared and levelled, to particular
researches ; hence our human reasoning is a mere farrago and
crude mass made up of a great deal of credulity and accident,
and the puerile notions it originally contracted.

But if a man of mature age, unprejudiced senses, and clear
mind, would betake himself anew to experience and particulars,
we might hope much more from such a one ; in which respect
we promise ourselves the fortune of Alexander the Great, and
let none accuse us of vanity till they have heard the tale, which
is intended to check vanity.

For ^schines spoke thus of Alexander and his exploits : " We
live not the life of mortals, but are born at such a period that
posterity will relate and declare our prodigies ;" as if he consi
dered the exploits of Alexander to be miraculous.

But in succeeding agesm Livy took a better view of the fact,
and has made some such observation as this upon Alexander :
" That he did no more than dare to despise insignificance." So
in our opinion posterity will judge of us, that we have achieved
no great matters, but only set less account upon what is consi
dered important ; for the meantime (as we have before observed)

system in detail. Bacon, however, is hardly consistent in one part of his
censure, for he also talks about the spirit and appetites of inanimate
substances, and that so frequently, as to preclude the supposition that
he is employing metaphor. Ed.

1 Proclus flourished about the beginning of the fifth century, and
was the successor of Plotinus, Porphyry, and lamblicus, who, in the
two preceding centuries, had revived the doctrines of Plato, and assailed
the Christian religion. The allusion in the text must be assigned to
lamblicus, who, in the fourth century, had republished the Pythagorean
theology of numbers, and endeavoured to construct the world out of
arithmetic, thinking everything could be solved by the aid of proportions
and geometry. Bacon must not be understood in the text to censure the
use but the abuse of mathematics and physical investigations, as in the
" De Augmentis" (lib. iv. c. 6), he enumerates the multiplicity of
demonstration scientific facts admit of, from this source. Ed.

m See Livy, Jib. x. c. 17, where, in a digress1 ^n on the probable
effect of c. contest between Rome and Alexander the Great, he says :
'• Non cum Dario rem esse dixisset : quern mulierum ac spadonura
agmen trahentem inter purpuram atque aurum, oneratum fortuna
apparatibus, praedam verius quam hostem, nihil aliud (juani aufjug
coiitemnere, incruentua devicit,"

BOOK I.] APHORISMS. S29

our only hope is in the regeneration of the sciences, by w^uhrlv
raising them on the foundation of experience and building them
anew, which I think none can venture to affirm to have been
already done or even thought of.

XCVIII. The foundations of experience (our sole resource)
have hitherto failed completely or have been very weak ; nor has
a store and collection of particular facts, capable of informing
the mind or in any way satisfactory, been either sought after or
amassed. On the contrary, learned, but idle and indolent, men
have received some mere reports of experience, traditions as it
were of dreams, as establishing or confirming their philosophy,
and have not hesitated to allow them the weight of legitimate
evidence. So that a system has been pursued in philosophy
with regard to experience resembling that of a kingdom or state
which would direct its councils and affairs according to the
gossip of city and street politicians, instead of the letters and
reports of ambassadors and messengers worthy of credit. !No-
thing is rightly inquired into, or verified, noted, weighed, or
measured, in natural history ; indefinite and vague observation
produces fallacious and uncertain information. If this appear
strange, or our complaint somewhat too unjust (because Aris
totle himself, so distinguished a man and supported by the
wealth of so great a king, has completed an accurate history of
animals, to which others with greater diligence but less noise
have made considerable additions, and others again have com
posed copious histories and notices of plants, metals, and fossils),
it will arise from a want of sufficiently attending to and compre
hending our present observations ; for a natural history com
piled on its own account, and one collected for the mind's infor
mation as a foundation for philosophy, are two different things.
They differ in several respects, but principally in this, — the for
mer 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. We must begin,
therefore, to entertain hopes of natural philosophy then only,
when we have a better compilation of natural history, its real
basis and support.

XCIX. Again, even in the abundance of mechanical experi
ments, there is a very great scarcity of those which best inform
and assist the understanding. For the mechanic, little solicitous
about the investigation of truth, neither directs his attention, nor
applies his hand to anything that is not of service to his business,
But our hope of further progress in the sciences will then only
be well founded, when numerous experiments shall be

•130 NOVUM ORGAKTTM. [£00 K t

and collected into natural history, which, though of no use in
themselves, assist materially in the discovery of causes and
axioms; which experiments we have termed enlightening, to
distinguish them from those which are profitable. They possess1
this wonderful property and nature, that they never deceive or
fail you ; for being used only to discover the natural cause of
some object, whatever be the result, they equally satisfy your
aim by decvling the question.

C. We must not only search for, and procure a greater
number of experiments, but also introduce a completely different
method, order, and progress of continuing and promoting ex
perience. For vague and arbitrary experience is (as we have
observed), mere groping in the dark, and rather astonishes than
instructs. But when experience shall proceed regularly and un
interruptedly by a determined rule, we may entertain better
hopes of the sciences.

CI. But after having collected and prepared an abundance
and store of natural history, and of the experience required for
the operations of the understanding cr philosophy, still the un
derstanding is as incapable of acting on such materials of itself,
with the aid of memory alone, as any person would be of
retaining and achieving, by memory, the computation of an
almanack. Yet meditation has hitherto done more for discovery
than writing, and no experiments have been committed to paper.
"We cannot, -however, approve of any mode of discovery without
writing, and when that comes into more general use, we may
have further hopes.

GIL Besides this, there is such a multitude and host, as it
were, of particular objects, and lying so widely dispersed, as to
distract and confuse the understanding ; and we can, therefore,
hope for no advantage from its skirmishing, and quick move
ments and incursions, unless we put its forces in due order and
array, by means of proper and well arranged, and, as it were,
living tables of discovery of these matters, which are the subject
of investigation, and the mind then apply itself to the ready
prepared and digested aid which such tables afford.

CIII. When we have thus properly and regularly placed
before the eyes a collection of particulars, we must not imme
diately proceed to the investigation and discovery of new
particulars or effects, or, at least, if we do so, must not rest
satisfied therewith. For, though we do not deny that by trans
ferring the experiments from one art to another (when all the
experiments of each have been collected and arranged, and have
been acquired by the knowledge, and subjected to the judgment
of a single individual), many new experiments may be discovered
tending to benefit society and mankind, by what we term literate
experience ; yet comparatively insignificant results are to be ex-

BOOK 1 ] APHORISMS. 431

pected thence, whilst the more important are to be derived from
the new light of axioms, deduced by certain method and rule
from the above particulars, and pointing out and defining new
particulars in their turn. Our road is not a long plain, but
rises and falls, ascending to axioms, and descending to effects.

CIV. Nor can we suffer the understanding to jump and fly
from particulars to remote and most general axioms (such as are
termed the principles of arts and things), and thus prove and
make out their intermediate axioms according to the supposed
unshaken truth of the former. This, however, has always been
done to the present time from the natural bent of the under
standing, educated too, and accustomed to this very method, by
the syllogistic mode of demonstration. But we cau then only
augur well for the sciences, when the ascent shall proceed by a
true scale and successive steps, without interruption or breach,
from particulars to the lesser axioms, thence to the intermediate
(rising one above the other), and lastly, to the most general.
.For the lowest axioms differ but little from bare experiment ;n
the highest and most general (as they are esteemed at present),
arc notional, abstract, and of no real weight. The intermediate
are true, solid, full of life, and upon them depend the business
and fortune of mankind ; beyond these are the really general,
but not abstract, axioms, which are truly limited by the inter
mediate.

We must not then add wings, but rather lead and ballast to
the understanding, to prevent its jumping or flying, which has
not yet been done; but whenever this takes place, we may
entertain greater hopes of the sciences.

CV. In forming axioms, we must invent a different form of

n The lowest axioms arc such as spring from simple experience, — such
as in chemistry, that animal substances yield no fixed salt by calcina
tion ; in music, that concords intermixed with di.scords make harmony,
&c. Intermediate axioms advance a step further, being1 the result
of reflection, which, applic-d to our experimental knowledge, deduces
laws from them, such as in optics of the first degree of generality, that
the angle of incidence is equal to the angle of reflection : and in me
chanics, Kepler's three laws of motion, while his general law, that all
bodies attract each other with forces proportional to their masses, and
inversely as the squares of their distances, may be taken as one of the
highest axioms. Yet so far is this principle from being only notional
or abstract, it has presented us with a key which fits into the intricate
wards ot the heavens, and has laid bare to our gaze the principal
mechanism of the universe. But natural philosophy in Bacon's day had
not advanced beyond intermediate axioms, and the term notional or
abstract is applied to those general axioms then current, not founded
on the solid principles of inductive inquiry, but based up:n d priori
reasoning and airy metaphysics. Ed.

432 KOVIIM OHCANUM. [BOOK i

induction from that hitherto m use ; not only for the proof and
discovery of principles (as they are called), but also of minor,
intermediate, and, in short, every kind of axioms. The induc
tion which proceeds by simple enumeration is puerile, leads to
uncertain conclusions, and is exposed to danger from one con
tradictory instance, deciding generally from too small a number
of facts, and those only the most obvious. But a really usefu
induction for the discovery and demonstration of the arts anc
sciences, should separate nature by proper rejections and ex
clusions, and then conclude for the affirmative, after collecting
a sufficient number of negatives. jN"o\v this has not been done,
nor even attempted, except perhaps by Plato, who certainly uses
this form of induction in some measure, to sift definitions and
ideas. But much of what has never yet entered the thoughts of
man must necessarily be employed, in order to exhibit a good
and legitimate mode of induction or demonstration, so as even
to render it essential for us to bestow more pains upon it than
have hitherto been bestowed on syllogisms. The assistance of
induction is to serve us not only in the discovery of axioms, but
also in defining our notions. Much indeed is to be hoped from
such an induction as has been described.

CVI. In forming our axioms from induction, we must examine
and try whether the axiom we derive be only fitted and calcu
lated for the particular instances from which it is deduced, or
whether it be more extensive and general. If it be the latter,
we must observe, whether it confirm its own extent and
generality by giving surety, as it were, in pointing out new
particulars, so that we may neither stop at actual discoveries,
nor with a careless grasp catch at shadows and abstract forms,
instead of substances of a determinate nature : and as soon as
we act thus, well authorized hope may with, reason, be said to
beam upon us.

CVII. Here, too, we may again repeat what we have said
above, concerning the extending of natural philosophy and
reducing particular sciences to that one, so as to prevent any
Bchism or dismembering of the sciences ; without which we can
not hope to advance.

CVIII. Such are the observations we would make in order to
remove despair and excite hope, by bidding farewell to the
errors of past ages, or by their correction. Let us examine
whether there be other grounds for hope. And, first, if many
useful discoveries have occurred to mankind by chance or oppor
tunity, without investigation or attention on their part, it must
necessarily be acknowledged that much more may be brought to
light by investigation and attention, if it be regular and orderly,
not hasty and interrupted. For although it may now and then
happen that one falls by chance upon something that had before

I.] APHORISMt. 433

escaped considerable efforts and laborious inquiries, yet un
doubtedly the reverse is generally the case. "We may, therefore,
hope for further, better, and more frequent results from man's
reason, industry, method, and application, than from chance and
mere animal instinct, and the like, which have hitherto been the
sources of invention.

CIX. We may also derive some reason for hope from the
circumstance of several actual inventions oeing of such a nature,
that scarcely any one could have formed a conjecture about them
previously to their discovery, but would rather have ridiculed
them as impossible. For men are wont to guess about new sub
jects from those they are already acquainted with, and the
hasty and vitiated fancies they have thence formed : than which
there cannot be a more fallacious mode of reasoning, because
much of that which is derived from the sources of things does
not flow in their usual channel.

If, for instance, before the discovery of cannon, one had
described its effects in the following manner : There is a new in
vention by which walls and the greatest bulwarks can be shaken
and overthrown from a considerable distance ; men would have
begun to contrive various means of multiplying the force of
projectiles and machines by means of weights and wheels, and
other modes of battering and projecting. But it is improbable
that any imagination or fancy would have hit upon a fiery blast,
expanding and developing itself so suddenly and violently,
because none would have seen an instance at all resembling it,
except perhaps in earthquakes or thunder, which they would
have immediately rejected as the great operations of nature, not
to be imitated by man.

So, if before the discovery of silk thread, any one had observed,
That a species of thread had been discovered, fit for dresses and
furniture, far surpassing the thread of worsted or flax in fineness,
and at the same time in tenacity, beauty, and softness ; men
would have begun to imagine something about Chinese plants,
or the fine hair of some animals, or the feathers or down of
birds, but certainly would never have had an idea of its being
spun by a small worm, in so copious a manner, and renewed
annually. But if any one had ventured to suggest the silkworm,
he would have been laughed at as if dreaming of some new
manufacture from spiders.

So again, if before the discovery of the compass, any one had
said, That an instrument had been invented, bv which the
quarters and points of the heavens could be exactly taken and
distinguished, men would have entered into disquisitions on the
refinement of astronomical instruments, and the like, from the
excitement of their imaginations ; but the thought of anytlrng
being discovered, wnich, not being a celestial body, but a mere
2 2 F

434 FOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK L

mineral or metallic substance, should yet in its motion agree
with that of such bodies, would have appeared absolutely in
credible. Yet were these facts, and the like (unknown for so
many ages) not discovered at last either by philosophy or reason
ing, but by chance and opportunity ; and (as we have observed),
they are of a nature most heterogeneous, and remote irom what
was hitherto known, so that no previous knowledge could lead
to them.

AVe may, therefore, well hope0 that many excellent and useful
matters are yet treasured up in the bosom of nature, bearing no
relation or analogy to our actual discoveries, but out of the com
mon track of our imagination, and still undiscovered, and whic i
will doubtless be brought to light in the course and lapse of
years, as the others have been before them ; but in the way w?
now point out, they may rapidly and at once be both represented
and anticipated.

CX. There are, moreover, some inventions which render it
probable that men may pass and hurry over the most noble dis
coveries which lie immediately before them. For however tho
discovery of gunpowder, silk, the compass, sugar, paper, or the
like, may appear to depend on peculiar properties of things anc
nature, printing at least involves no contrivance which is not
clear and almost obvious. But from want of observing that
although the arrangement of the types of letters required more
trouble than writing with the hand, yet these types once arranged
serve for innumerable impressions, whilst manuscript only afiords
one copy ; and again, from want of observing that ink might be
thickened so as to stain without running (which was necessary,
seeing the letters face upwards, and the impression is made from
above), this most beautiful invention (which assists so materially
the propagation of learning) remained unknown for so many
ages.

The human mind is often so awkward and ill-regulated in the
career of invention that it is at first diffident, and then despises
itself. For it appears at first incredible that any such discovery
should be made, and when it has been made, it appears incredible
that it should so long have escaped men's research. All which
affords good reason for the hope that a vast mass of inventions
yet remains, which may be deduced not only from the investiga
tion of new modes of operation, but also from transferring, com
paring, and applying these already known, by the method of
what we have termed literate experience.

0 This hope has been abundantly realized in the discovery of gravity
arid the decomposition oi light, mainly by the inductive method. To a
better philosophy we may also attribute the discovery of electricity,
galvanism, and their mutual connection with each other, and magnetism,
the inventions of the air-pump, steam-engine, and the chronometer.

BOOK L] APHORISMS. 435

CXI. Nor should we omit another ground of hope. Let men
only consider (if they will) their infinite expenditure of talent,
time, and fortune, in matters and studies of far inferior impor
tance and value ; a small portion of which applied to sound and
eolid learning would be sufficient to overcome every difficulty.
And we have thought right to add this observation, because we
candidly own that such a collection of natural and experimental
history as we have traced in our own mind, and as is really
necessary, is a great and as it were royal work, requiring much
labour and expense.

CXII. In the meantime let no one be alarmed at the multitude
of particulars, but rather inclined to hope on that very account.
For the particular phenomena of the arts and nature are in
reality but as a handful, when compared with the fictions of the
imagination removed and separated from the evidence of facts.
The termination of our method is clear, and I had almost said
near at hand ; the other admits of no termination, but only of
infinite confusion. For men have hitherto dwelt but little, or
rather only slightly touched upon experience, whilst they have
wasted much time on theories and the fictions of the imagination.
If we had but any one who ?ould actually answer our interroga
tions of nature, the invention of all causes and sciences would be
the labour of but a few years.

CXIII. We think some ground of hope is afforded by our own
example, which is not mentioned for the sake of boasting, but as
a useful remark. Let those who distrust their own powers
observe myself, one who have amongst my contemporaries been
the most engaged in public business, who am not very strong in
health (which causes a great loss of time), and am the first ex
plorer of this course, following the guidance of none, nor even
communicating my thoughts to a single individual ; yet having
once firmly entered in the right way, and submitting the powers
of my mind to things, I have somewhat advanced (as I make
bold to think) the matter I now treat of. Then let others con
sider what may be hoped from men who enjoy abundant leisure,
from united labours, and the succession of ages, after these sug
gestions on our part, especially in a course which is not confined,
like theories, to individuals, but admits of the best distribution
and union of labour and effect, particularly in collecting experi
ments. For men will then only begin to know their own power,
when each performs a separate part, instead of undertaking in
crowds the same work.

CXIV. Lastly, though a much more faint and uncertain breeze
of hope were to spring up from our new continent, yet we consi
der it necessary to make the experiment, if we would not show
a dastard spirit. For the risk attending want of success is not
to be compared with that of ncgloctin'r the attempt; the former

2 F a

436 WOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK L

is attended with the loss of a little human labour, the latter with
that of an immense benefit. For these and other reasons it
appears to us that there is abundant ground to hope, and to
inauce not only those who are sanguine to make experiment, but
even those who are cautious and sober to give their assent.

CXV. Such are the grounds for banishing despair, hitherlo
one of the most powerful causes of the delay and restraint to
which the sciences have been subjected ; in treating of which we
have at the same time discussed the signs and causes of the errors,
idleness, and ignorance, that have prevailed; seeing especially
that the more refined causes, which are not open to popuhr
judgment and observation, may be referred to our remarks on the
idols of the human mind.

Here, too, we should close the demolishing branch of our
instauration, which is comprised in three confutations : 1, the
confutation of natural human reason left to itself; 2, the confi-
tation of demonstration ; 3, the confutation of theories, cr
received systems of philosophy and doctrines. Our confutatioi
has followed such a course as was open to it, namely, the exposing
of the signs of error, and the producing evidence of the causes cf
it : for we could adopt no other, differing as we do both in first
principles and demonstrations from others.

It is time for us therefore to come to the art itself, and th-*
rule for the interpretation of nature : there is, however, still
something which must not be passed over. For the intent of
this first book of aphorisms being to prepare the mind for under
standing, as well as admitting, what follows, we must now, afte:'
having cleansed, polished, and levelled its surface, place it in r,
good position, and as it were a benevolent aspect towards our
propositions ; seeing that prejudice in new matters may be pro
duced not only by the strength of preconceived notions, but alsc
by a false anticipation or expectation of the matter proposed
We shall therefore endeavour to induce good and correct opinions
of what we offer, although this be only necessary for the moment,
and as it were laid out at interest, until the matter itself be wel]
understood.

CXVI. First, then, we must desire men not to suppose that
we are ambitious of founding any philosophical sect, like the
ancient Greeks, or some moderns, as Telesius, Patricius, and
Severinus.* For neither is this our intention, nor do we think

p A s Bacon very frequently cites these authors, a slight notice of their
labours may not be unacceptable to the reader. Bernardinus Telesius,
|VMI» at Cosenza, in 1508, combated the Aristotelian system in a work
entitled " De Rerum Natura juxta propria principia," i. e. according to
principles of his own. The proem of tne work announces his design
Vad to show that " the construction of the world, the magnitude and

BOOK L] APHORISMS. 437

that peculiar abstract; opinions on nature and the principles of
things are of much importance to men's fortunes, since it were
easy to revive many ancient theories, and to introduce many new
ones ; as for instance, many hypotheses with regard to the
heavens can be formed, differing in themselves, and yet suffi
ciently according with the phenomena.

We bestow not our labour on such theoretical, and, at the
game time, useless topics. On the contrary, our determination
is that of trying, whether we can lay a firmer foundation, and
extend to a greater distance the boundaries of human power and
dignity. And although here and there, upon some particular

rints, we hold (in our own opinion) more true and certain, and
might even say, more advantageous tenets than those in
general repute (which we have collected in the fifth part of our
Instauration), yet we offer no universal or complete theory. The
time does not yet appear to us to be arrived, and we entertain no
hope of our life being prolonged to the completion of the sixth
part of the instauration (which is destined for philosophy dis
covered by the interpretation of nature), but are content if we
proceed quietly and usefully in our intermediate pursuit, scatter
ing, in the mean time, the seeds of less adulterated truth for
posterity, and, at least, commence the great work.

nature of the bodies contained in it, are not to be investigated by rea
soning, which was done by the ancients, but are to be apprehended by
the senses, and collected from the things themselves." He had, how
ever, no sooner laid down this principle than he departed from it in
practice, and pursued the deductive method he so much condemned in his
predecessors. His first step was an assumption of principles as arbitrary
as any of the empirical notions of antiquity ; at the outset of his book he
very quietly takes it for granted that heat is the principle of motion,
cold of immobility, matter being assumed as the corporeal substratum,
in which these incorporeal and active agents carry on their operations.
Out of these abstract and ill-defined conceptions Telesius builds up a
system quite as complete, symmetrical, and imaginative as any of the
structures of antiquity.

Francis Patricius, born at Cherso, in Dalmatia, about 1529, was
another physicist who rose up against Aristotle, and announced the dawn
of a new philosophy. In "1593 appeared his " Nova de Universis Philoso-
phia." He lays down a string of axioms, in which scholastic notions,
phvsical discoveries, and theological dogmas, are strangely commingled,
and erects upon them a system which represents all the grotesque
features of theological empiricism.

Severinus, born in Jutland, in 1529, published an attack on Aristotle's
natural history, but adopted fantasies which the Stagyrite ridiculed in
his own day. He was a follower of Paracelsus, a Swiss enthusiast of
the fifteenth century, who ignored the ancient doctrine of the four
elements for salt, sulphur, and mercury, and allied chemistry and medi
cine with mysticism. Ed.

438 KOVUM ORGANUM. [EOOK I.

CXVII. And, as we pretend not to found a sect, BO do we
neither offer nor promise particular effects ; which may occasion
some to object to us, that since we so often speak of effects, and
consider everything in its relation to that end, we ought also to
give some earnest of producing them. Our course and method,
however (as we have often said, and again repeat), is such as not
to deduce effects from effects, nor experiments from experiments
(as the empirics do), but in our capacity of legitimate interpreters
of nature, to deduce causes and axioms from effects and ex
periments ; and new effects and experiments from those causes
and axioms.

And although any one of moderate intelligence and ability
will observe the indications and sketches of many noble effects
in our tables of inventions (which form the fourth part of the
Instauration), and also in the examples of particular instances
cited in the second part, as well as in our observations on history
(which is the subject of the third part); yet we candidly confess
that our present natural history, whether compiled from book a
or our own inquiries, is not sufficiently copious and well ascer
tained to satisfy, or even assist, a proper interpretation.

If, therefore, there be any one who is more disposed and pre
pared for mechanical art, and ingenious in discovering effects,
than in the mere management of experiment, we allow him to
employ his industry in gathering many of the fruits of ou*
history and tables in this way, and applying them to effects, re
ceiving them as interest till he can obtain the principal. Fo •
our own part, having a greater object in view, we condemn all
hasty and premature rest in such pursuits as we would Atalanta't*
apple (to use a common allusion of ours) ; for we are not child
ishly ambitious of golden fruit, but use all our efforts to mak<
the course of art outstrip nature, and we hasten not to reap moss
or the green blade, but wait for a ripe harvest.

CX VIII. There will be some, without doubt, who, on a perusa'.
of our history and tables of invention, will meet with some un
certainty, or perhaps fallacy, in the experiments themselves, and
will thence perhaps imagine that our discoveries are built on
false foundations and principles. There is, however, really
nothing in this, since it must needs happen in beginnings.*1 For

*» Bacon's apology is sound, and completely answers those German
and French critics, who have refused him a niche in the philoso
phical pantheon. One German commentator, too modest to reveal hia
name, accuses Bacon of ignorance of the calculus, though, in his day,
Wallis had not yet stumbled upon the laws of continuous fractions ; while
Count de Maistre, in a coarse attack upon his genius, expresses hii
astonishment at finding Bacon unacquainted with discoveries which
were not heard of till a century after bis death. Ed.

BOOK, i.] APHOiusm 439

it is the same as if in writing or printing one or tvro letters were
wrongly turned or misplaced, which is no great inconvenience to
the reader, who can easily by his own eye correct the error ; let
men in the same way conclude, that many experiments in natural
history may be erroneously believed and admitted, which are
easily expunged and rejected afterwards, by the discovery of
causes and axioms. It is, however, true, that if these errors in
natural history and experiments become great, frequent, and con
tinued, they cannot be corrected and amended by any dexterity
of wit or art. If then, even in our natural history, well ex
amined and compiled with such diligence, strictness, and (I might
say) reverential scruples, there be now and then something
icilse and erroneous in the details, what must we say of the com
mon natural history, which is so negligent and careless when
compared with ours ? or of systems of philosophy and the
sciences, based on such loose soil (or rather quicksand) F Let
none then be alarmed by such observations.

CXIX. Again, our history and experiments will contain much
that is light and common, mean and illiberal, too refined and
merely speculative, and, as it were, of no use, and this per
haps may divert and alienate the attention of mankind.

With regard to what is common ; let men reflect, that they
have hitherto been used to do nothing but refer and adapt the
causes of things of rare occurrence to those of things which
more frequently happen, without any investigation of the causes
of the latter, taking them for granted and admitted.

Hence, they do not inquire into the causes of gravity, the
rotation of the heavenly bodies, heat, cold, light, hardness, soft
ness, rarity, density, liquidity, solidity, animation, inanimation,
similitude, difference, organic formation, but taking them to be
self-evident, manifest, and admitted, they dispute and decide
upon other matters of less frequent and familiar occurrence.

But we (who know that no judgment can be formed of that
which is rare or remarkable, and much less anything new brought
to light, without a previous regular examination and discovery
of the causes of that which is common, and the causes again of
those causes) are necessarily compelled to admit the most common
objects into our history. Besides, we have observed that nothing
lias been so injurious to philosophy as this circumstance, namely,
that familiar and frequent objects do not arrest and detain men's
contemplation, but are carelessly admitted, and their causes
never inquired after ; so that information on unknown subjects
is not more often wanted than attention to those which are
known.

CXX. With regard to the meanness, or even the filthiness of
particulars, for which (as Pliny observes*, an apology is requisite,

440 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK L

guch subjects are no less worthy of admission into natural history
than the most magnificent and costly ; nor do they at all pollute
natural history, for the sun enters alike the palace and the privy,
and is not thereby polluted. We neither dedicate nor raise a
capitol or pyramid to the pride of man, but rear a holy temple
in his mind, on the model of the universe, which model therefore
we imitate. For that which is deserving of existence is deserv
ing of knowledge, the image of existence. Now the mean and
splendid alike exist. Nay, as the finest odours are sometimes
produced from putrid matter (such as musk and civet), so does
valuable light and information emanate from mean and sordid
instances. But we have already said too much, for such fasti
dious feelings are childish and effeminate.

CXXI. The next point requires a more accurate consideration,
namely, that many parts of our history will appear to the vulgar,
or even any mind accustomed to the present state of things,
fantastically and uselessly refined. Hence, we have in regard
to this matter said from the first, and must again repeat, that
we look for experiments that shall afford light rather than profit,
imitating the divine creation, which, as we have often observed,
only produced light on the first day, and assigned that whole day
to its creation, without adding any material work.

If any one, then, imagine such matters to be of no use, he
might equally suppose light to be of no use, because it is neither
solid nor material. For, in fact, the knowledge of simple
natures, when sufficiently investigated and defined, resembles
light, which, though of no great use in itself, affords access to
the general mysteries of effects, and with a peculiar power com
prehends and draws with it whole bands and troops of effects,
and the sources of the most valuable axioms. So also the
elements of letters have of themselves separately no meaning,
and are of no use, yet are they, as it were, the original matter
in the composition and preparation of speech. The seeds of sub
stances, whose effect is powerful, are of no use except in their
growth, and the scattered rays of light itself avail not unless
collected.

But if speculative subtilties give offence, what must we say of
the scholastic philosophers who indulged in them to such excess P
And those subtilties were wasted on words, or, at least, common
notions (which is the same thing), not on things or nature, and
alike unproductive of benefit in their origin and their con
sequences : in no way resembling ours, which are at present use
less, but in their consequences of infinite benefit. Let men be
assured that all subtle disputes and discursive efforts of the
mind are late and preposterous, when they are introduced sub
sequently to the discovery of axioms, and that their true, or, at

BOOK I.] APHORISM*, 441

any rate, chief opportunity is, when experiment is to be weighed
and axioms to be derived from it. They otherwise catch and
grasp at nature, but never seize or detain her : and we may well
apply to nature that which has been said of opportunity or
fortune, that she wears a lock in front, but is bald behind.

In short, we may reply decisively to those who despise any
part of natural history as being vulgar, mean, or subtile, and
useless in its origin, in the words of a poor woman to a hanghty
prince,* who had rejected her petition as unworthy, and beneath
the dignity of his majesty: "Then cease to reign," for it is
quite certain that the empire of nature can neither be obtained
nor administered by one who refuses to pay attention to such
matters as being poor and too minute.

CXXII. Again, it may be objected to us as being singular
and harsh, that we should with one stroke and assault, as it
were, banish all authorities and sciences, and that too by our
own efforts, without requiring the assistance and support of any
of the ancients.

Now we are aware, that had we been ready to act otherwise
than sincerely, it was not diflicult to refer our present method to
remote ages, prior to those of the Greeks (since the sciences in
all probability flourished more in their natural state, though
silently, than when they were paraded with the fifes and trumpets
of the Greeks); or even (in parts, at least), to some of the Greeks
themselves, and to derive authority and honour from thence ; as
men of no family labour to raise and form nobility for themselves
in some ancient line, by the help of genealogies. Trusting,
however, to the evidence of facts, we reject every kind of fiction
and imposture ; and think it of no more consequence to our
subject, whether future discoveries were known to the ancients,
and set or rose according to the vicissitudes of events and lapse
of ages, than it would be of importance to mankind to know
whether the new world be the island of Atlantis,* and known to
the ancients, or be now discovered for the first time.

With regard to the universal censure we have bestowed, it is
quite clear to any one who properly considers the matter, that it
is both more probable and more modest than any partial one
could have been. For if the errors had not been rooted in the
primary notions, some well conducted discoveries must have
corrected others that were deficient. But since the errors were
fundamental, and of such a nature, that men may be said rather
to have neglected or passed over things, than to have formed a
wrong or false judgment of them, it is little to be wondered at,
that they did not obtain what they never aimed at, nor arrive at

' Philip of Macedoa, • See Plato's Timaeua.

4-12 WOVUM OKOANUM. [BOOK T.

a goal which they had not determined, nor perform a course
which they had neither entered upon, nor adhered to.

With regard to our presumption, we allow that ii we were <o
assume a power of drawing a more perfect straight line or circle
than any one else, by superior steadiness oi' hand or acuteneeis
of eye, it would lead to a comparison of talent; but if one
merely assert that he can draw a more perfect line or circle with
a ruler or compasses, than another can by his unassisted hand cr
eye, he surely cannot be said to boast ot much. Now this
applies not only to our first original attempt, but also to those
who shall hereafter apply themselves to the pursuit. For our
method of discovering the sciences merely levels men's writs, an<l
leaves but little to their superiority, since it achieves everything
by the most certain rules and demonstrations. Whence (as W3
have often observed), our attempt is to be attributed to fortune
rather than talent, and is the offspring of time rather than of
wit. For a certain sort of chance has no less effect upon ou *
thoughts than on our acts and deeds.

CXXIII. We may, therefore, apply to ourselves the joke of
him who said, that water and wine drinkers could not think alike,-
especially as it hits the matter so well. For others, botl.
ancients and moderns, have in the sciences drank a crude liquor
like water, either flowing of itself from the understanding, or
drawn up by logic as the wheel draws up the bucket. But we
drink and pledge others with a liquor made of many well
ripened grapes, collected and plucked from particular branches,
squeezed in the press, and at last clarified and fermented in
a vessel. It is not, therefore, wonderful that we should not
agree with others.

CXXIY. Another objection will without doubt be made,
namely, that we have not ourselves established a correct, or the
best goal or aim of the sciences (the very defect we blame in
others). For they will say that the contemplation of truth is
more dignified and exalted than any utility or extent of effects ;
but that our dwelling so long and anxiously on experience and
matter, and the fluctuating state of particulars, fastens the mind
to earth, or rather casts it down into an abyss of confusion and
disturbance, and separates and removes it from a much more
divine state, the quiet and tranquillity of abstract wisdom. We
willingly assent to their reasoning, and are most anxious to effect
the very point they hint at and require. For we are founding
a real model of the world in the understanding, such as it is
found to be, not such as man's reason has distorted. Now this
cannot be done without dissecting and anatomizing the world

* The saying of Philocrates when he differed from Demosthenes, £<L

BOOK L] APHORISM! 443

most diligently ; but we declare it necessary to destroy com
pletely the vain little, and as it were, apish imitations oi the world,
which have been formed in various systems of philosophy by
men's fancies. Let men learn (as we have said above), the
difference that exists between the idols of the human mind and
the ideas of the divine mind. The former are mere arbitrary
abstractions ; the latter the true marks of the Creator on his
creatures, as they are imprinted on, and defined in matter, by
true and exquisite touches. Truth, therefore, and utility, are
here perfectly identical, and the effects are of more value as
pledges of truth than from the benefit they confer on men.

CXXV. Others may object that we are only doing that which
has already been done, and that the ancients followed the same
course as ourselves. They may imagine, therefore, that, after
all this stir and exertion, we shall at last arrive at some of those
systems that prevailed among the ancients : for that they, too,
when commencing their meditations, laid up a great store of
instances and particulars, and digested them under topics and
titles in their common-place books, and so worked out their
systems and arts, and then decided upon what they discovered,
and related now and then some examples to confirm and throw
light upon their doctrine; but thought it superfluous and trouble
some to publish their notes, minutes, and common-places, and
therefore followed the example of builders who remove the
scaffolding and ladders when the building is finished. Nor can
we indeed believe the case to have been otherwise. But to any
one, not entirely forgetful of our previous observations, it will
be easy to answer this objection or rather scruple ; for we allow
that the ancients had a particular form of investigation and dis
covery, and their writings show it. But it was of such a nature,
that they immediately flew from a few instances and particulars
(after adding some common notions, and a few generally received
opinions most in vogue) to the most general conclusions or the
principles of the sciences, and then by their intermediate propo
sitions deduced their inferior conclusions, and tried them by the
test of the immoveable and settled truth of the first, and so con
structed their art. Lastly, if some new particulars and instances
were brought forward, which contradicted their dogmas, they
either with great subtilty reduced them to one system, by dis
tinctions or explanations of their own rules, or got rid of them
clumsily as exceptions, labouring most pertinaciously in the mean
time to accommodate the causes of such as were not contradictory
to their own principles. Their natural history and their expe
rience were both far from being what they ought to have been,
and their flying off to generalities ruined everything.

CXXVI. Another objection will be made against u§, that w«

444 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK I.

prohibit decisions, and the laying down of certain principles, till
we arrive regularly at generalities by the intermediate steps, and
thus keep the judgment in suspense and lead to uncertainty.
But our object is not uncertainty but fitting certainty, for wa
derogate not from the senses but assist them, and despise not th<3
understanding but direct it. It is better to know what is neces
sary, and not to imagine we are fully in possession of it, than to
imagine that we are fully in possession of it, and yet in reality to
know nothing which we ought.

CXXVII. Again, some may raise this question rather than
objection, whether we talk of perfecting natural philosophy alono
according to our method, or the other sciences also, such an
logic, ethics, politics. We certainly intend to comprehend them
all. And as common logic, which regulates matters by syllo
gisms, is applied not only to natural, but also to every other sci
ence, so our inductive method likewise comprehends them all.'
For we form a history and tables of invention for anger, fear,
shame, and the like, and also for examples in civil life, and the
mental operations of memory, composition, division, judgment,
and the rest, as well as for heat and cold, light, vegetation, and
the like. But since our method of interpretation, after preparing
and arranging a history, does not content itself with examining the
operations and disquisitions of the mind like common logic, but
also inspects the nature of things, we so regulate the mind that it
may be enabled to apply itself in every respect correctly to that
nature. On that account we deliver numerous and various pre
cepts in our doctrine of interpretation, so that they may apply in

u The old error of placing the deductive syllogism in antagonism to
the inductive, as if they were not both parts of one system or refused to
cohere together. So far from there being any radical opposition
between them, it would not be difficult to show that Bacon's method
was syllogistic in his sense of the term. For the suppressed premiss of
every Baconian enthymeme, viz. the acknowledged uniformity of the
laws of nature as stated in the axiom, whatever has once occurred will
occur again, must be assumed as the basis of every conclusion which he
draws before we can admit its legitimacy. The opposition, therefore, of
Bacon's method could not be directed against the old logic, for it assumed
and exemplified its principles, but rather to the abusive application
which the ancients made of this science, in turning its powers to the
development of abstract principles which they imagined to be pregnant
with the solution of the latent mysteries of the universe. Bacon justly
overthrew these ideal notions, and accepted of no principle as a basis
which was not guaranteed by actual experiment and observation ;
and so far he laid the foundations of a sound philosophy by turn
ing the inductive logic to its proper account in the interpretation of
nature.

TOOK I.] APHORISMS. 445

some measure to tlie metliod of discovering the quality and con
dition of the subject matter of investigation.

CX XVIII. Let none even doubt whether we are anxious to
destroy and demolish the philosophy, arts, and sciences, which
are now in use. On the contrary, we readily cherish their
practice, cultivation, and honour; for we by no means interfere
to prevent the prevalent system from encouraging discussion,
adorning discourses, or being employed serviceably in the chair
of the professor or the practice of common life, and being taken,
in short, by general consent as current coin. Nay, we plainly
declare, that the system we offer will not be very suitable for
such purposes, not being easily adapted to vulgar apprehensions,
except by effects and works. To show our sincerity in professing
our regard and friendly disposition towards the received sciences,
we can refer to the evidence of our published writings (especially
our books on the Advancement of Learning). We will not,
therefore, endeavour to evince it any further by words ; but
content ourselves with steadily and professedly premising, that
no great progress can be made by tne present methods in the
theory or contemplation of science, and that they cannot be made
to produce any very abundant effects.

CXXIX. It remains for us to say a few words on the excel
lence of our proposed end. If we had done so before, we might
have appeared merely to express our wishes, but now that we
have excited hope and removed prejudices, it will perhaps have
greater weight. Had we performed and completely accomplished
the whole, without frequently calling in others to assist in our
labours, we should then have refrained from saying any more,
lest we should be thought to extol our own deserts. Since,
however, the industry of others must be quickened, and their
courage roused and inflamed, it is right to recall some points to
their memory.

First, then, the introduction of great inventions appears one
of the most distinguished of human actions, and the ancients so
considered it ; for they assigned divine honours to the authors
of inventions, but only heroic honours to those who displayed
civil merit (such as the founders of cities and empires, legislators,
the deliverers of their country from lasting misfortunes, the
quellers of tyrants, and the like). And if any one rightly com
pare them, he will find the judgment of antiquity to be correct;
for the benefits derived from inventions may extend to mankind
in general, but civil benefits to particular spots alone ; the latter,
moreover, last but for a time, the former for ever. Civil refor
mation seldom is carried on without violence and confusion,
whilst inventions are a blessing and a benefit without injuring or
afflicting any.

446 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK L

Inventions are also, as it were, new creations and imitations of
divine works, as was expressed by the poet:x —

" Primura irugiferos foetus mortalibus aegiis
Dididerant quondam prsestanti nomine Athens?
Et recreaverunt vitam legesc~ue rogarunt."

And it is worthy of remark in Solomon, that whilst he flourished
in the possession of his empire, in wealth, in the magnificence oi
his works, in his court, his household, his fleet, the splendour of
his name, and the most unbounded admiration of mankind, he
still placed his glory in none of these, but declared3" that it is the
g".»»*y of God to conceal a thing, but the glory of a king to search
it out.

Again, let any one but consider the immense difference between
men's lives in the most polished countries of Europe, and in any
wild and barbarous region of the new Indies, he will think it so
great, that man may be said to be a god unto man, not only on
account of mutual aid and benefits, but from their comparative
states — the result of the arts, and not of the soil or climate.

Again, we should notice the force, effect, and consequences of
inventions, which are nowhere more conspicuous than in those
three which were unknown to the ancients ; namely, printing,
gunpowder, and the compass. For these three have changed the
appearance and state of the whole world : first in literature, then
in warfare, and lastly in navigation ; and innumerable changes
have been thence derived, so that no empire, sect, or star, appears
to have exercised a greater power and influence on human affairs
than these mechanical discoveries.

It will, perhaps, be as well to distinguish three species and
degrees of ambition. First, that of men who are anxious to
enlarge their own power in their country, which is a vulgar and
degenerate kind ; next, that of men who strive to enlarge the
power and empire of their couutr}7 over mankind, which is more
dignified but not less covetous ; but if one were to endeavour to
renew and enlarge the power and empire of mankind in general
over the universe, such ambition (if it may be so termed) is both
more sound and more noble than the other two. Now the empire

* This is the opening of the sixth book of Lucretius. Lacon pro
bably quoted irom memory ; the lines are, —

* Primse frugiferos foetus mortalibus segris

Dididerunt quondam praeclaro nomine Athenae
Et recreaverunt, &c."

The teeming corn, that feeble mortals crave,

First, and long since, renowned Athens gave,

And cheered their liij — then taught to frame their lawfc

9 Prov. xxv. 2.

BOOK L! APHORISMS. 4-47

oi man over things is founded on the arts an*! sciences alone, for
nature is only to be commanded by obeying her.

Besides this, it the benefit of any particular invention has had
such an efioct as to induce men to consider him greater than a
man, who has thus obliged the whole race, how much more
exalted will that discovery be, which leads to the easy discovery
of everything else ! Yet (to speak the truth) in the same manner
as we are very thankful for light which enables us to enter on
our wav, to practise arts, to read, to distinguish each other, and
yet sight is more excellent and beautiful than the various uses of
light ; so is the contemplation of things as they are, free from
superstition or imposture, error or confusion, much more digni
fied in itseli than all the advantage to be derived from disco
veries.

Lastly, let none be alarmed at the objection of the arts and
sciences becoming depraved to malevolent or luxurious purposes
and the like, for the same can be said of every worldly good ;
talent, courage, strength, beauty, riches, light itself, and the rest.
Only let mankind regain their rights over nature, assigned to
them by the gift of God, and obtain that power, whose exercise
will be governed by right reason and true religion.

CXXX. But it is time for us to lay down the art of inter
preting nature, to which we attribute no absolute necessity (as if
nothing could be done without it) nor perfection, although we
think that our precepts are most useful and correct. For we are
of opinion, that if men had at their command a proper history
of nature and experience, and would apply themselves steadily
to it, and could bind themselves to two things : 1. to lay aside
received opinions and notions ; 2. to restrain themselves, till the
proper season, from generalization, they might, by the proper
and genuine exertion of their minds, fall into our way of inter
pretation without the aid of any art. For interpretation is the
true and natural act of the mind, when all obstacles are re
moved : certainly, however, everything will be more ready and
better fixed by our precepts.

Yet do we not afiirm that no addition can be made to them ;
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.

4-48 MOVUM OR6ANUM. ' BOOK II.

APHORISMS.— BOOK II.

On the Interpretation of Nature, or the Reiyn of Man.

I. To generate and superinduce a new nature or new nature;^
upon a given body, is the labour and aim of human power :
whilst to discover the form or true difference of a giving nature,
or the nature* to which such nature is owing, or source from
which it emanates (for these terms approach nearest to an e3 -
planation of our meaning), is the labour and discovery of humai
knowledge ; and subordinate to these primary labours are two
others of a secondary nature and inferior stamp. Under the first
must be ranked the transformation of concrete bodies from one
to another, which is possible within certain limits ; under tha
second, the discovery, in every species of generation and motior ,
of the latent and uninterrupted process from the manifest effi
cient and manifest subject matter up to the given form : and \
like discovery of the latent conformation of bodies which ar3
at rest instead of being in motion.

II. The unhappy state of man's actual knowledge is manifested
even by the common assertions of the vulgar. It is rightly laid
down that true knowledge is that which is deduced from causes .
The division of four causes also is not amiss : matter, form, th i
efficient, and end or final cause. b Of these, however, the latter
is so far from being beneficial, that it even corrupts the sciences,
except in the intercourse of man with man. The discovery of form
is considered desperate. As for the efficient cause and matte"
(according to the present system of inquiry and the received
opinions concerning them, by which they are placed remoto
from, and without any latent process towards form^, they are bu:
desultory and superficial, and of scarcely any avail to real and
active knowledge. Nor are we unmindful of our having pointed
out and corrected above the error of the human mind, in assign-

• To TI fjv tlvai, or rjv ovcria of Aristotle. — See lib. iii. Metap.
b These divisions are from Aristotle's Metaphysics, where they an)
termed, 1. V\TJ fj TO inroKeip.evov. 2. TO TI ijv ilvai. 3. '69iv rj
4. TO ov 'iviKtv — Kai

BOOK 1LJ

in<; the first qualities of essence to form--." For although nothing
exists in nature except individual bodies,* exhibiting clear indi
vidual effects according to particular laws, yet in each branch of
learning, that very la\v, its investigation* discovery, and develop
ment, are the foundation both ot* theory and practice. This law,
therefore, and its parallel in each science, is what we understand
by the term form,* adopting that word because it has grown into
common use, and is of familiar occurrence.

c See Aphorism li. and second paragraph of Aphorism Ixv. in the
first book.

a Bacon means, thrit although there exist in nature only individual'
ities, yet a certain number of these may have common properties, and
be controlled by the same laws. Now, these homogeneous qualities
which distinguish them from other individuals, lead us to class them
under one expression, and sometimes under a single term. Yet these
classes are only pure conceptions in Bacon's opinion, and cannot be
taken for distinct substances. He evidently here aims a blow at the
Healists, who concluded that the essence which united individualities in
a class was th<; only real and immutable existence in nature, inasmuch
as it entered into their ideas of individual substances as a distinct and
essential property, and continued in the mind as the mould, type, or
pattern of the class, while its individual forms were undergoing per
petual renovation and decay. Ed.

e Bacon's definition is obscure. All the idea we have of a law of
nature consists in invariable sequence between certain classes of
phenomena ; but this cannot be the complete sense attached by Bacon
to the term form, as he employs it in the fourth aphorism as convertible
with the nature of any object; and again in the first aphorism,
as the natura naturans, or general law or condition in any sub
stance or quality, — natvra naturata — which is whatever its form is,
or that particular combination of forces which impresses a certain
nature upon matter subject to its influence. Thus, in the Newtonian
lense, the form of whiteness would be that combination of the seven
primitive rays of light which give rise to that colour. In combination
with this word, and affording a still further insight into its meaning, we
have the phrases, latcns processes ad for mam, et latcns schematismus cor-
poi-um. Now, the latens sc/iematimmts signifies the internal texture, struc
ture, or configuration of bodies, or the result of the respective situation
oi' all the parts o: a body ; while the latens proccssus ad formam points
out the gradation of movements which takes pi ice among the molecula
of bodies when they either conserve or change their figure. Hence we
may consider the form of any quality in body as something convertible
v ith that quality, i.e., when it exists the quality is present, and vice versa.
In this sense, the form of a thing differs only from its efficient cause in
being permanent, whereas we apply cause to that which exists in order
of time. The latens proccssns and latcns schematismus are subordinate
to form, as concrete exemplifications of its essence. The former is the
•acret and invisible process by which change ;s effected, and involve*

2 2o

KOVUM OHGANUM. [BOOK it.

III. He who has learnt tlie cause of a particular nature (such
AS whiteness or heat), in particular subjects only, has acquired
but an imperfect knowledge : as he vho can induce a certain
effect upon particular substances only, among those which are
susceptible of it, has acquired but an imperfect power. But he
who has only learnt the efficient and material cause (which
causes are variable and mere vehicles conveying form to parti
cular substances) may perhaps arrive at some new discoveries in,
matters of a similar nature, and prepared for the purpose, but
does not stir the limits of things which are much more deeply
rooted: whilst he who is acquainted with forms, comprehends
the unity of nature in substances apparently most distinct from
each other. He can disclose and bring forward, therefore,
(though it has never yet been done) things which neither the
vicissitudes of nature, nor the industry of experiment, nor chance
itself, would ever have brought about, and which would for ever
have escaped man's thoughts ; from the discovery of forms,
therefore, results genuine theory and free practice.

IV. Although there is a most intimate connection, and almost
an identity between the ways of human power and human
knowledge, yet, on account of the pernicious and inveterate habit
of dwelling upon abstractions, it is by far the safest method to
commence and build up the sciences from those ioundations
which bear a relation to the practical division, and to let them
mark out and limit the theoretical. We must consider, there
fore, what precepts, or what direction or guide, a person would
most desire, in order to generate and superinduce any nature
upon a given body : and this not in abstruse, but in the plainest
language.

For instance, if a person should wish to superinduce the yellow
colour of gold upon silver, or an additional weight (observing
always the laws of matter) or transparency on an opaque stone,
or tenacity in glass, or vegetation on a substance which is not

the principle since called the law of continY.ty. Thus, the succession
of events between the application of the match to the expulsion of the
bullet is an instant of latent progress which we can now trace with
some degree of accuracy. It also more directly reiers to the operation
by which one form or condition of being is induced upon another. I'o*'
example, when the surface of iron becomes rusty, or when water is con
verted into steam, some change has taken place, or latent process from
one form to another. Mechanics afford many exemplifications ot the
first latent process we have denoted, and chemistry of the second.
The latens schematisnius is that visible structure of bodies on which SD
many of their properties depend. When we inquire into the consti
tution of crystals, and into the 'nternal structure of plants, we are
examining into their latent schematism. Ed,

BOOK It.] APHORISMS. 451

vegetable, We must (I say) consider what species of precept of
guide this person would prefer. And firstly, he will doubtless bo
anxious to DC shown some method that will neither fail in effect,
nor deceive him in the trial of it ; secondly, he will be anxious
that the prescribed method should not restrict him and tie him
down to peculiar means, and certain particular methods of acting ;
for he will, perhaps, be at loss, and without the power or oppor
tunity of collecting and procuring such means. Now if there bo
other means and methods (besides those prescribed) of creating
such a nature, they will perhaps be of such a kind as are in his
power, yet by the confined limits of the precept he will be de
prived of reaping any advantage from them ; thirdly, he will be
anxious to be shown something not so difficult as the required
effect itself, but approaching more nearly to practice.

We will lay this down, therefore, as the genuine and perfect
rule of practice, that it should be certain, free, and preparatory,
or having relation to practice. And this is the same thing as the
discovery of a true form ; for the form of any nature is such,
that when it is assigned the particular nature infallibly follows.
It is, therefore, always present when that nature is present, and
universally attests such presence, and is inherent in the whole of
it. The same form is of such a character, that if it be removed
the particular nature infallibly vanishes. It is, therefore, absent,
whenever that nature is absent, and perpetually testiiies such
absence, and exists in no other nature. Lastly, the true form is
such, that it deduces the particular nature from some source of
essence existing in many subjects, and more known (as they
term it) to nature, than the form itself. Such, then, is our
determination and rule with regard to a genuine and perfect
theoretical axiom, that a nature be found convertible with a given
nature, and yet such as to limit the more known nature, in the
manner of a real genus. But these two rules, the practical and
theoretical, are in fact the same, and that which is most useful
in practice is most correct in theory.

V. But the rule or axiom for the transformation of bodies is
of two kinds. The first regards the body as an aggregate or
combination of simple natures. Thus, in gold are united tho
following circumstances : it is yellow, heavy, of a certain weight,
malleable and ductile to a certain extent j it is not volatile, loses
part of its substance by fire, melts in a particular manner, is
separated and dissolved, by particular methods, and so of the
other natures observable in gold. An axiom, therefore, of this
kind deduces the subject from the forms of simple natures ; for
he who has acquired the forms and methods of superinducing
yellowness, weight, ductility, stability, deliquescence, solution,
?jid the like, and their degrees and modes, will consider and

2o2

452 NOVUM OROAKUM. ffcOOR ll,

contrive liow to unite them in any body, eo ns to transform1 it
into gold. And this method of operating belongs to primary
action ; for it is the same thing to produce one or many simple
natures, except that man is more confined and restricted in his
operations, if many be required, on account of the difficulty of
uniting many natures together. It must, however, be observed,
that this method of operating (which considers natures as simple
though in a concrete body) sets out from what is constant, eternal,
and universal in nature, and opens such broad paths to human
power, as the thoughts of man can in the present state of things
scarcely comprehend or figure to itself.

The second kind of axiom (which depends on the discovery of
the latent process) does not proceed by simple natures, but by
concrete bodies, as they are found in nature and in its usual
course. For instance, suppose the inquiry to be, from \\hat
beginnings, in what manner, and by what process gold or any
metal or stone is generated from the original menstruum, or its
elements, up to the perfect mineral : or, in like manner, by what
process plants are generated, from the first concretion of juices
in the earth, or from seeds, up to the perfect plant, with the
whole successive motion, and varied and uninterrupted efforts of
nature ; and the same inquiry be made as to a regularly deduced
system of the generation of animals from coition to birth, and so
on of other bodies.

Nor is this species of inquiry confined to the mere generation
of bodies, but it is applicable to other changes and labours of
nature. For in stance, 'where an inquiry is made into the whole
series and continued operation of the nutritive process, from the
first reception of the i'ood to its complete assimilation to the re
cipient ;' or into the voluntary motion of animals, from the first
impression of the imagination, and the continuous effects of the
spirits, up to the bending and motion of the joints ; or into the
free motion of the tongue and lips, and other accessories which
jr.ve utterance to articulate sounds. For all these investigations
relate to concrete or associated natures artificially brought
together, and take into consideration certain particular and
special habits of nature, and not those fundamental and general
Jaws which constitute forms. It must, however, be plainlv
owned, that this method appears more prompt and easy, and of
greater promise than the primary one.

In like manner the operative branch, which answers to this

f By the recent discoveries in electric magnetism, copper wires, or,
indeed, wires of any metal, may be transformed into magnets; th«
magnetic law, or form, having been to that extent discovered.

K Ilnller lias pursued this investigation in his "Physiology," and ha»
eft hi. successors little else to do tiuui repeat hie -.'.iscuvcries. Ld

BOOK ILJ APHORISMS. 453

contemplative branch, extends and advances its operation from
that which is usually observed in nature, to other subjects
immediately connected with it, or not very remote from such
immediate connexion. But the higher and radical operations
upon nature depend entirely on the primary axioms. Besides,
even where man has not the means oi acting, but only of acquir
ing knowledge, as in astronomy (for man cannot act upon,
change, or transform the heavenly bodies), the investigation of
facts or truth, as well as the knowledge of causes and co
incidences, must be referred to those primary and universal
axioms that regard simple natures ; such as the nature of spon
taneous rotation, attraction, or the magnetic force, and many
others which are more common than the heavenly bodies them
selves. For let no one hope to determine the question whether
the earfh or heaven revolve in the diurnal motion, unless he
have first comprehended the nature of spontaneous rotation.

VI. But the latent process of which we speak, is far from
being obvious to men's minds, beset as they now are. For wo
mean not the measure?, symptoms, or degrees of any process
which can be exhibited in the bodies themselves, but simply a
continued process, which, for the most part, escapes the observa
tion of the senses.

For instance, in all generations and transformations of bodies,
we must inquire, what is in the act ot being lost and escaping,
what remains, what is being added, what is being diluted, what
is being contracted, what is being united, what is being separated,
what is continuous, what is broken off, what is urging forward,
what impedes, what predominates, what is subservient, and
many other circumstances.

Nor are these inquiries again to be made in the mere genera
tion and transformation of bodies only, but in all other alterations
and fluctuations, we must in like manner inquire ; what pre
cedes, what succeeds, what is quick, what is slow, what produces
and what governs motion, and the like. All which matters are
unknown and unattempted by the sciences, in their present
heavy and inactive state. For, since every natural act is brought
about by the smallest efforts,h or, at least, such as are too small
to strike our senses, let no one hope that he will be able to direct
or change nature unless he have properly comprehended and
observed these efforts.

VII. In like manner, the investigation and discovery of the
latent conformation in bodies is no less new, than the discovery
of the latent process and form. For we as yet are doubtless

h Bacon here first seems pregnant with the important development
of the higher calculus, which, in the hands of Newton and D(;.-.<;;u tea,
WM to vfj*?«lf as jjrent i» reyolqtipn jn pliilosspnjiy a.s \\i$ \\}e(,\\m\. I'd.

454 KOVUM ORGANUM. [ROOK n.

only admitted to the ante-chamber of nature, and do not prepare
an entrance into her presence-room. Bat nobody can endue a
given body with a new nature, or transform it successfully and
appropriately into a new body, without possessing a complete
knowledge of the body so to be changed or transformed. For
he will run into vain, or, at least, into difficult and perverse
methods, ill adapted to the nature of the body upon which
he operates. A clear path, therefore, towards this object also
must be thrown open, and well supported.

Labour is well and usefully bestowed upon the anatomy of
organized bodies, such as those of men and animals, which
appears to be a subtile matter, and an useful examination of
nature. The species of anatomy, however, is that of first sight,
open to the senses, and takes place only in organized bodies. It
is obvious, and of ready access, when compared with the real
anatomy of latent conformation in bodies which are considered
similar, particularly in specific objects and their parts ; as those
of iron, stone, and the similar parts of plants and animals, as the
root, the leaf, the flower, the flesh, the blood, and bones, &c.
Yet human industry has not completely neglected this species of
anatomy ; for we have an instance of it in the separation of
similar bodies by distillation, and other solutions, which shows
the dissimilarity of the compound by the union of the homo
geneous parts. These methods are useful, and of importance to
our inquiry, although attended generally with fallacy : for many
natures are assigned and attributed to the separate bodies, as if
they had previously existed in the compound, which, in reality,
are recently bestowed and superinduced by fire and heat, and
the other modes of separation. Besides, it is, after all, but a
small part of the labour of discovering the real conformation in
the compound, which is so subtile and nice, that it is rather con
fused and lost by the operation of the fire, than discovered and
brought to light.

A separation and solution of bodies, therefore, is to be effected,
not by fire indeed, but rather by reasoning and true induction,
with the assistance of experiment, and by a comparison with
other bodies, and a reduction to those simple natures and their
forms which meet, and are combined in the compound ; and we
must assuredly pass from Vulcan to Minerva, if we wish to
bring to light the real texture and conformation of bodies, upon
which every occult and (as it is sometimes called) specific pro
perty and virtue of things depends, and whence also every rule
of powerful change and transformation is deduced.

lor instance, we must examine what spirit is in every body,1
what tangible assencc ; whether that spirit is copious and ex-

1 By spirit, Bacon here plainly implies material fluid too fine to be
grasped by the unassisted sense, which rather operates than

BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 455

uberant, or meagre and scarce, fine or coarse, aeriform or
ignifbrm, active or sluggish, weak or robust, progressive or
retrograde, abrupt or continuous, agreeing with, external and
surrounding objects, or differing from them, &c. In like manner
must we treat tangible essence (which admits of as many dis
tinctions as the spirit), and its hairs, fibres, and varied textupo.
Again, the situation of the spirit in the corporeal mass, its pores,
passages, veins, and cells, and the rudiments or first essays of
the organic body, are subject to the same examination. In these,
however, as in our former inquiries, and therefore in the whole
investigation of latent conformation, the only genuine and clear
light which completely dispels all darkness and subtile diilicultics,
is admitted by means of the primary axioms.

VIII. This method will not bring us to atoms,* which takes
for granted the vacuum, and immutability of matter (neither of
which hypotheses is correct), but to the real particles such as we
discover them to be. Nor is there any ground for alarm at this
refinement as if it were inexplicable, for, on the contrary, the
more inquiry is directed to simple natures, the more will every
thing be placed in a plain and perspicuous light, since we transfer
our attention from the complicated to the simple, from the in
commensurable to the commensurable, from surds to rational
quantities, from the indefinite and vague to the definite and
certain ; as when we arrive at the elements of letters, and the
simple tones of concords. The investigation of nature is best
conducted when mathematics are applied to physics. Again, let
none be alarmed at vast numbers and fractions, for in calculation
it is as easy to set down or to reflect upon a thousand as
an unit, or the thousandth part of an integer as an integer
itself.

IX.1 From the two kinds of axioms above specified, arise the

We sometimes adopt the same mode of expression, as in the words
spirits of nitre, spirits of wine. Some such agency has been assumed by
nearly all the modern physicists, a few of whom, along with Bacon,
would leave ua to gather from their expressions, that they believe such
bodies endowed with the sentient powers of perception. As another
specimen of his sentiment on this subject, we may refer to a paragraph
on the decomposition of compmnds, in his essay on death, beginning —
" The spirit which exists in all living bodies, keeps all the parts in due
subjection ; when it escapes, the body decomposes, or the similar parts
unite." Ed.

k The theory of the Epicureans and others. The atoms are supposed
to be invisible, inalterable particles, endued with all the properties of
the given body, and forming that body by their union. They must be
separated, ot course, which either takes a vacuum for granted, or intro
duces a tertium quid into the composition of the body.

1 Compare the three following aphorisms with the three last chapterf
of tke third book of the " Do Augment:? Scientiarum."

456 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK IL

two divisions of philosophy and {lie sciences, and we will use the
commonly adopted terms which approach the nearest to our
meaning, in our own sense. Let the investigation of forms,
which (in reasoning at least, and after their own laws), are
eternal and immutable, constitute metaphysics,™ and let the in
vestigation of the efficient cause of matter, latent process, and
latent conformation (which all relate merely to the ordinary
course of nature, and not to her fundamental and eternal laws),
constitute physics. Parallel to these, let there be two practical
divisions ; to physics that of mechanics, and to metaphysics that
of magic, in the purest sense of the term, as applied to its ample
means, and its command over nature.

X. The object of our philosophy being thus laid down, we
proceed to precepts, in the most clear and regular order. The
signs for the interpretation of nature comprehend two divisions,
the first regards the eliciting or creating of axioms from experi
ment, the second the deducing or deriving of new experiments
from axioms. The first admits of three subdivisions into minis
trations 1. To the senses. 2. To the memory. 3. To the
mind or reason.

For we must first prepare as a foundation for the whole, a
complete and accurate natural and experimental history. AVe
must not imagine or invent, but discover the acts and properties
of nature.

m Bacon gives tbis unfortunate term its proper signification ; pi ret, in
composition, with the Greeks signifying change or mutation. Most of
our leaders, no doubt, are aware that the obtrusion of this word into
technical philosophy was purely capricious, and is of no older date than
the publication of Aristotle's works by Andronicus of Khodes, one of
the learned men into whose hands the manuscripts of that philosopher
fell, after they were brought by Sylla from Athens to Rome. To iour-
teen books in these MSiS. with no distinguishing title, Andronicus is
said to have preiixed the words TU [.lira TCI Qv&tKu, to denote the place
which they ought to hold either in the order of Aristotle's arrangement,
or in that of study. These books treat first of those subjects which are
common to matter and mind ; secondly, of things separate from matter,
i. e. of God, and of the subordinate spirits, which were supposed by the
Peripatetics to watch over particular portions oi the universe. The
lollowers of Aristotle accepted the whimsical title of Andronicus, and
in their usual manner allowed a word to unite things into one science,
which were plainly heterogeneous. Their error was adopted by the
Peripatetics of the Christian Church. The schoolmen added to the notion
of ontology, the science of the mind, or pneumatology, and as that genuj
of being has since become extinct with the schools, metaphysics thus in
modern parlance comes to be synonymous with psychology. It were to
be wished that Bacon's definition of the term had been accepted, and
mental science delivered from one of the greatest monstrosities in
its nomenclature, yet Bacou whimsically enough in his De Augmentil
inclines mathematics i» metaphysics. £'j.

BOOK II.] APIIOHTSM& 457

But 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.

Even when this is done, the understanding, left to itself and
to its own operation, is incompetent and unlit to construct its
axioms without direction and support. Our third ministration,
therefore, must be true and legitimate induction, the very key of
interpretation. "We must begin, however, at the end, and go
back again to the others.

XI. The investigation of forms proceeds thus : a nature being
given, we must first present to the understanding all the known
instances which agree in the same nature, although the subject
matter be considerably diversified. And this collection must be
made as a mere history, and without any premature reflection, or
too great degree of refinement. For instance ; take the investi
gation, of the form of heat.

Instances agreeing in the Form oj Heat.

1. The rays of the sun, particularly in summer, and at noon.

2. The same reflected and condensed, as between mountains,
or along walls, and particularly in burning mirrors.

3. Ignited meteors.

4. Burning lightning.

5. Eruptions of flames from the cavities of mountains, &c.

6. Flame of every kind.

7. Ignited solids.

8. Natural warm baths.

9. Warm or heated liquids.

10. Warm vapours and smoke ; and the air itself, which
admits a most powerful and violent heat if confined, as in rever
berating furnaces.

11. Damp hot weather, arising from the constitution of the
air, without any reference to the time of the year.

12. Confined and subterraneous air in some caverns, parti
cularly in winter.

13. All shaggy substances, as wool, the skins of animals, anl
tho plumage of birds, contain some heat.

14. All bodies, both solid and liquid, dense and rare (as the
air itself), placed near fire for any time.

15. Sparks arising from the violent percussion of flint and
steel.

10. All bodies rubbed violently, as stone, wood, cloth, &c., sc
that rudders, and axles of wheels, sometimes catch fire, and the
West Indians obtain fire by attrition.

17 Green and moist vegetable matter confined a«J rubbed

458 NOVUM OllGANUM. [BOOK IL

together, as roses, peas in baskets ; so hay, if it be damp when
•tnckcd, often catches fire.

IS. Quick lime sprinkled \vith water.

19. Iron, when iirst dissolved by acids in a glass, and with
out any applicaiiou to fire ; the same of tin, but not so in
tensely.

20. "Animals, particularly internally; although the heat is
not perceivable oy the touch in insects, on account ot their
small size.

21. Horse dung, and the like excrement from other animals,
when fresh.

22. Strong oil of sulphur and of vitriol exhibit the operation
of heat in burning linen.

23. As does the oil of marjoram, and like substances, in burn
ing the bony substance of the teeth.

21. Strong and well rectified spirits of wine exhibit the same
effects ; so that white of eggs when thrown into it grows hare
and white, almost in the same manner as when boiled, and bread '
becomes burnt and brown as if toasted.

25. Aromatic substances and warm plants, as the dracunculus
[arum], old nasturtium, &c., which, though they be not warm to
the touch (whether whole or pulverized), yet are discovered by
the tongue and palate to be warm and almost burning when
slisrhtly masticated.

2(5. Strong vinegar and all acids, on any part of the body not
clothed with the epidermis, as the eye, tongue, or any wounded
part, or where the skin is removed, excite a pain differing but
little from that produced by heat.

27. Even a severe and intense cold produces a sensation of
burning."

" Nee ToreaQ penetrabile frigus adurit."

28. Other instances.

AVc are wont to call this a table of existence and presence.

XII. We must next present to the understanding instances
which do not admit of the given nature, for form (as we have
observed) ought no less to be absent where the given nature is
absent, than to be present where it is present. If, however, we
were to examine every instance, our labour would be infinite.

Negatives, therefore, must be classed under the affirmatives,
and the want of the given nature must be inquired into more
particularly in objects which have a very close connection with
those others in which it is present and manifest. And this we
?,re wont to term a table of deviation or of absence in proximityi

• "Ne tenues pluviae, rapidive potentia solia

Acrior, aut Boreae penetrabile Irigus adurat."

Virg. Georg. i. 02. 93.

8OOR II.] APHORISMS. 469

Proximate Instances wanting the Nature oj Heat.

The rays of the moon, stars, and comets, arc not found to bo
warm to the touch, nay, the severest cold lias been observed to
take place at the full of the moon. Yet the larger fixed stars are
supposed to increase and render more intense the heat of the
sun, as he approaches them, when the sun is in the sign of the
lion for instance, and in the dog-days.0

The rays of the sun in what is called the middle region of the
air give no heat, to account for which the commonly assigned
reason is satisfactory; namely, that that region is neither suffi
ciently near to the body of the sun -whence the rays emanate,
nor to the earth whence they are reflected. And the fact is
manifested by snow being perpetual on the tops of mountains,
unless extremely lofty. But it is observed on the other hand by
some, that at the Peak of TenerifFe, and also among the Andes ot
Peru, the tops of the mountains are free from snow, which only
lies in the lowej* part as you ascend. Besides, the air on the
summit of these mountains is found to be by no means cold, but
only thin and sharp ; so much so, that in the Andes it pricks and
hurts the eyes from its extreme sharpness, and even excites the
orifice of the stomach and produces vomiting. The ancients
also observed, that the rarity of the air on the summit of Olympus
was such, that those who ascended it were obliged to carry sponges
moistened with vinegar and water, and to apply them now and
then to their nostrils, as the air was not dense enough for their
respiration; on the summit of which mountain it is also related,
there reigned so great a serenity and calm, free from rain, snow,
or wind, that the letters traced upon the ashes of the sacrifices
on the altar of Jupiter, by the fingers of those who had offered
them, would remain undisturbed till the next year. Those even,
who at this day go to the top of the Peak of 'TcncriiFe, walk by
night and not 'in the day-time, and arc advised and pressed by
their guides, as soon as the sun rises, to make haste in their
descent, on account of the clanger (apparently arising from the
rarity of the atmosphere), lest their breathing should be relaxed
and suffocated. p

0 This notion, which he repeats again, and particularizes in the
ISth aph. of this book, is borrowed from the ancients, and we need not
Bay is as wise as their other astronomical conjectures. The sun also
approaches stars quite as large in other quarters of the zodiac, when it
looks down upon the earth through the murky clouds of winter. \Vhen
that luminary is in Leo, the heat of the earth is certainly greater than
at any other period, but this arises from the accumulation ot heat after
the solstice, for the same reason that the maximum heat oi the day is at
two o'clock instead of noon. Ed.

P Bouguer, employed by Louis XIV. in philoBophical rese \rclioe,

460 KOVUM ORGANUM. [LOOK IL

The reflection of the solar rays in the polar regions is found to
be weak and inefficient in producing heat, so that the Dutch, who
wintered in Nova Zembla, and expected that their vessel would
be freed about the beginning oi July from the obstruction of the
mass of ice which had blocked it up, were disappointed and
obliged to embark in their boat. Hence the direct rays of the
sun appear to have but little power even on the plain, and when
reflected, unless they are multiplied and condensed, which takes
place when the sun tends more to the perpendicular; for, then,
the incidence of the rays occurs at more acute angles, so that the
reflected rays are nearer to each other, whilst, on the contrary,
when the sun is in a very oblique position, the angles of incidence
are very obtuse, and the reflected rays at a greater distance. 1 1
the mean time it must be observed, that there may be many
operations of the solar rays, relating, too, to the nature of heal,
which are not proportioned to our touch, so that, with regard t)
us, they do not tend to produce warmth, but, with regard t>
some otS»er bodies, have their due effect in producing it.

Let the following experiment be made. Take a lens the re
verse of a burning glass, and place it between the hand and th )
solar rays, and observe whether it diminish the heat of the sun
as a burning glass increases it. For it is clear, with regard to
the visual rays, that in proportion as the lens is made of unequal
thickness in the middle and at its sides, the images appear eithe*
more diffused or contracted. It should be seen, therefore, if tho
same be true with regard to heat.

Let the experiment be well tried, whether the lunar rays cat
be received and collected by the strongest and best burninfc
glasses, so as to produce even the least degree of heat.* But i '
that degree be, perhaps, so subtile and weak, as net to be per
ceived or ascertained by th? touch, we must have recourse tc
those glasses which indicate tho warm or cold state of the atmos
phere, and let the lunar rays fall through the burning glass on

ascended the Andes to discover the globular form of the earth, and pub
lished an account of his passage, which verifies tho statement oi' Bacon,
i Mont-uiari asserts in his book against the astrologers that he had
satisfied himself by numerous and oft-repeated experiments, that the
lunar rays gathered to a focus produced a sersiole degree oi heat.
Muschenbrock, however, adopts the opposite opinion, and asserts that
himself, De la Hire, Villet, and Tschirnhausen had tried with that view
the strongest burning-glasses in vain. (Opera de Igne.) De la Land«
makesa similar confession in his Astronomy (vol. ii. vii. § 1413). Bouguer,
\\hom we have just quoted, demonstrated that the light of the moon WOP
800,000 degrees less than that oi the sun : it would consequently be
necessary to invent a glass with an absorbing power 300,000 degrees
greater than those ordinarily in use, to try the experiment
speaks o». £d.

t] At>aORISM3. 461

the top of tins thermometer, and then notice if the crater be
depressed by the heat.*

Let the burning glass be tried on warm objects which emit no
luminous rays, as heated but not ignited iron or stone, or hot
water, or the like ; and observe whether the heat become in
creased and condensed, as happens with the solar rays.

Let it be tried on common ilame.

The effect oi comets (if we can reckon them amongst meteors')
in augmenting the heat of the season is not found to be constant
or clear, although droughts have generally been observed to
follow them. However, luminous lines, and pillars, and openings,
and the like, appear more often in winter than in summer, and
especially with the most intense cold but joined with drought.
Lightning, and coruscations, and thunder, however, rarely hap
pen in winter, and generally at the time of the greatest heats.
The appearances we term falling stars are generally supposed to
consist of some shin ing and inflamed viscous substance, rat her than
of violently hot matter; but let this be further investigated.

Some coruscations emit light without burning, but are never
accompanied by thunder.

Eructations and eruptions of fl;imc are to be found in cold
climates as well as in hot, as in Iceland and Greenland; just as
the trees of cold countries are sometimes inflammable and more
pitchy and resinous than in v\;rrm, as the fir, pine, and the like.
13ut the position and nature of the soil, where such eruptions are

* In this thermometer, mercury was not dilated by beat or contracted
by cold, as the one now in use. but a mass of air employed instead, which
filled the cavity of the bulb. This being placed in an inverted position to
ours, that is to say, with the bulb uppermost, pressed down the liquor
when the air became dilated by heat, as ours press it upward ; and when
the heat diminished, the liquor rose to occupy the place vacated by the
air, as the one now in use descends. It consequently wns liable to be
affected by a change in the temperature, as by the weight oi air, and
c:»uld afford only a rude standard of accuracy in scientific investigations.
This thermometer was not Bacon's own coi *,rivance, as is commonly
supposed, but that of Drebbel. Ed.

8 Lalande is indignant that the Chaldeans should have more correct
notions of the nature of comets than the modern physicists, and charges
Bacon with entertaining the idea that they were the mere effects of
vapour and heat. This passage, with two others more positive, in the
"l)e Aug." (cap. xl.) and the "Descript. Globi Intellect." (cap. vi.)
certainly afford ground for the assertion ; but ii Bacon erred, he erred
with Galileo, and with the foremost spirits oi the times. It is true
that Pythagoras and Seneca had asserted their beliei in the solidity oi
the~e bodies, but the wide dominion which Aristotle subsequently
exercised, threw their opinions inU. the shade, u.':u imide the opj>ot:it«
doctrine everywhere paramount- Ed.

462 KOVUM ORGANU& [BOOK H,

wont to Lappen, is not yet sufficiently investigated to enable us
to suljoin a negative instance to the affirmative.

AU liamc is constantly more or less warm, and this instance is
not altogether negative ; yet it is said that the ignis fatuus (as
it is called), and which sometimes is driven against walls, has
but little heat; perhaps it resembles that of spirits of wine,
which is mild and gentle. That flame, however, appears yet
milder, which in some well authenticated and serious histories is
said to have appeared round the head and hair of boys and vir
gins, and instead of burning their hair, merely to have played
about it. And it is most certain that a sort of flash, without any
evident heat, has sometimes been seen about a horse when
sweating at night, or in damp weather. It is also a well known
fact,* and it was almost considered as a miracle, that a few years
since a girl's apron sparkled when a little shaken or rubbed,
which was, perhaps, occasioned by the alum or salts with whicli
the apron was imbued, and which, after having been stuck
together and incrusted rather strongly, were broken by the fric
tion. It is well known that all sugar, whether candied or plair.,
if it be hard, will sparkle when broken or scraped in the darL.
In like manner sea and saltwater is sometimes found to shine at
night when struck violently by the oar. The foam of the se.i
when agitated by tempests also sparkles at night, and the Spa
niards call this appearance the sea's lungs. It has not been
sufficiently ascertained what degree of heat attends the flamo
which the ancient sailors called Castor and Pollux, and tho
moderns call St. Ermus' fire.

Every ignited body that is red-hot is always warm, although
without ilamc, nor is any negative instance subjoined to thu;
affirmative, llotten wood, however, approaches nearly to it, for
it shines at night, and yet is not found to be warm ; and the
putrefying scales of fish which shine in the same manner are not
warm to the touch, nor the body of the glowworm, or of the ily
called Lucciola."

The situation and nature of the soil of natural warm baths has
not been sufficiently investigated, and therefore a negative in
stance is not subjoined.

To the instances of warm liquids we may subjoin the negative
one of the peculiar nature of liquids in general ; for no tangible
liquid is known that is at once warm in its nature and constantly
continues warm ; but their heat is only superinduced as an
adventitious nature for a limited time, so that those which are
extremely warm in their power and effect, as spirits of wine,
chemical aromatic oils, the oils of vitriol and sulphur, and the

* Was it a silk apron which exhibited electric sparks ? Silk waa tbeip

u The Italian fire -fly.

BOOK U.] APHORISMS. 463

like, and which speedily burn, arc yet cold at first to the toucri,
and the water of natural baths, poured into any vessel and sepa
rated from its source, cools down like water heated by the fire.
It is, however, true that oily substances arc rather less cold to
the touch than those that are aqueous, oil for instance than
water, silk than linen ; but this belongs to the table of degrees
of cold.

In like manner we may subjoin a negative instance to that of
warm vapour, derived from the nature of vapour itself, as far as
we are acquainted with it. For exhalations from oily substances,
though easily inflammable, are yet never warm unless recently
exhaled from some warm substance.

The same may be said of the instance of air ; for we never per
ceive that air is warm unless confined or pressed, or manifestly
heated by the sun, by fire, or some other warm body.

A negative instance is exhibited in weather by its coldness
with an cast or north wind, beyond what the season would lead
us to expect, just as the contrary takes place with the south or
west winds. An inclination to rain (especially in winter) attcuda
warms weather, and to frost cold weather.

A negative instance as to air confined in caverns may be ob
served in summer. Indeed, we should make a more diligent
inquiry into the nature of confined air. For in the first place the
qualities of air in its own nature with regard to heat and cold
rnay reasonably be the subject of doubt ; for air evidently derives
its heat from the effects of celestial bodies, and possibly its cold
from the exhalation of the earth, and in the mid region of air
(as it is termed) from cold vapours and snow, so that no judg
ment can be formed of the nature of air by that which is out of
doors and exposed, but a more correct one might be derived from
confined air. It is necessary, however, that the air should be
enclosed in a vessel of such materials as would not imbue it
with heat or cold of themselves, nor easily admfc the influence
of the external atmosphere. The experiment should be made
therefore with an earthen jar, covered with folds of leather to
protect it from the external air. and the air should be kept three
or four days in this vessel well closed. On opening the jar, the
degree of heat may be ascertained cither by the hand or a gra
duated glass tube.

There is a similar doubt as to whether the warmth of wool,
dkins, feathers, and the like, is derived from a slight inherent
heat, since they are animal excretions, or from their being of a
certain fat and oily nature that accords with heat, or merely
from the confinement and separation of air which we cpoke of in
the preceding paragraph ;* for all air appears to possess a cer-

* This last ia found to bfc the real reason, air not being a good con«

464 KOVUM OnGANUM. [fcOOX IT.

tain degree of warmth when separated from the external atmo:?»
plierc. Let an experiment be made, therefore with fibrous gub»
stances of linen, and not of wool, feathers, or silk, which are
animal excretions. For it is to be observed that all powders
(where air is manifestly enclosed) are less cold than the sub
stances when whole, just as we imagine froth (which contains air)
to l^e less cold than the liquid itself.

We have here no exactly negative instance, for we are not
acquainted with any body tangible or spirituous which does not
admit of heat when exposed to the fire. There is, however, this
difference, that some admit it more rapidly, as air, oil, and water,
others more slowly, as stone and metals. y This, however, bek rgs
to the table of degrees.

No negative is here subjoined, except the remark that sparks
are not kindled by flint and steel, or any other hard substance,
unless some small particles of the stone or metal are struck ofT,
and that the air never forms them by friction, as is common!/
supposed; besides, the sparks from the weight of the ignited
substance, have a tendency to descend rather than to rise, and
when extinguished becomes a sort of dark ash.

We are of opinion that here again there is no negative; for
we are not acquainted with any tangible body which does not
become decidedly warm by friction, so that the ancients feigned
that the gods had no other means or power of creating heat;
than the friction of air, by rapid and violent rotation. On thu
point, however, further inquiry must be made, whether bodice
projected bv machines (as balls from cannon) do not derive sornn
degree of heat from meeting the air, which renders them some
what warm when they fall. The air in motion rather cools thai.
heats, as in the winds, the bellows, or breath when the mouth i.-<
contracted. The motion, however, in such instances is not sulli
ciently rapid fo excite heat, and is applied to a body of air, ami
rot to its component parts, so that it is not surprising that hea
should not be generated.

Wo must make a more diligent inquiry into this instance ; for
herbs arid green and moist vegetables appear to possess a latent
heat, so small, however, as not to be perceived by the touch ir
single specimens, but when they are united and confined, so that
their spirit cannot exhale into the air, and they rather warm each
other, their heat is at once manifested, and even flame occasion
ally in suitable substances.

ductor, and therefore not allowing the escape of heat. The confined
*iir is disengaged when these substances are placed under an exhausted
receiver.

J This is erroneous. Air, in fact, is one ci tbe worst, and metal*
vs the best conductors of heat.

BOOK II.] APIIOKI.S.MS. 4G5

Here, too, we must make a more diligent inquiry ; for quick
lime, when sprinkled with water, appears to conceive heat, either
from its being collected into one point (as we observed of herbs
when confined), or from the irritation and exasperation of the
fiery spirit by water, which occasions a conflict and struggle.
The true reason will more readily be shown if oil be used instead
of water, for oil will equally tend to collect the confined spirit,
but not to irritate. The experiment may be made more general,
both by using the ashes and calcined products of different bodies
and by pouring different liquids upon them.

A negative instance may be subjoined of other metals which
are more soft and soluble ; for leaf gold dissolved by aqua regia,
or lead by aqua fortis, are not warm to the touch whilst dis
solving, no more is quicksilver (as far as I remember), but silver
excites a slight heat, and so does copper, and tin yet more
plainly, and most of all iron and steel, which excite not only a
powerful heat, but a violent bubbling. The heat, therefore,
appears to be occasioned by the struggle which takes place when
these strong dissolvents penetrate, dig into, and tear asunder
the parts of those substances, whilst the substances themselves
resist. When, however, the substances yield more easily, scarcely
any heat is excited.

There is no negative instance with regard to the heat of ani
mals, except in insects (as has been observed), owing to their
small size ; for in fishes, as compared with land animals, a lower
degree rather than a deprivation of heat is observable. In plants
and vegetables, both as to their exudations and pith when freshly-
exposed, there is no sensible degree of heat. But in animals
there is a great difference in the degree, both in particular parts
(for the heat varies near the heart, the brain, and the extre
mities) and in the circumstances in which they are placed, such
as violent exercise and fevers.

Here, again, there is scarcely a negative instance. I might
add that the excrements of animals, even when they are no
longer fresh, possess evidently some effective heat, as is shown
by their enriching the soil.

Such liquids (whether oily or watery) as are intensely acrid
exhibit the effects of heat, by the separation and burning of
bodies after some little action upon them, yet they are not at
5irst warm to the touch, but they act according to their affinity
and the pores of the substances to which they are applied ; for
aqua re<;ia dissolves gold but not silver, — on the contrary, aqua
fortis dissolves silver but not gold ; neither of them dissolves
glass, and so of the rest.

Let spirits of wine be tried on wood, or butter, wax, or pitch,
to see if this will melt them at all by their heat ; for the twenty
instance shows that they possess properties re
^ 2 H

466 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II.

those of licat in causing incrustation. Let an experiment also be
made with a graduated glass or calendar,* concave at the top, by
pouring well-rectified spirits of wine into the cavity, and cover-
ing it up in order that they may the better retain their heat,
then observe whether their heat make the water descend.

Spices and acrid herbs are sensibly warm to the palate, and
etill more so when taken internally; one should see, therefore,
on what other substances they exhibit the effects of heat. Now,
sailors tell us that when large quantities of spices are suddenly
opened, after having been shut up for some time, there is somo
danger of fever and inflammation to those who stir them or take
them out. An experiment might, therefore, be made whet-he]1
such spices and herbs, when produced, will, like smoke, dry fish
and meat hung up over them.

There is an acrid effect and a degree of penetration in cold
liquids, such as vinegar and oil of vitriol, as well as in warm,
such as oil of marjoram and the like; they have, therefore, ar.
equal effect in causing animated substances to smart, and sepa
rating and consuming inanimate parts. There is not any nega
tive instance as to this, nor does there exist any animal pair
unaccompanied by the sensation of heat.

There are many effects common to cold and heat, however
different in their process; for snowballs appear to burn boys
hands after a little time, and cold no less than fire preserves
bodies from putrefaction, — besides both heat and cold contract
bodies. But it is better to refer these instances and the like to
the investigation of cold.

XIII. In the third place we must exhibit to the understand
ing the instances in which that nature, which is the object oi
our inquiries, is present in a greater or less degree, either by
comparing its increase and decrease in the same object, or its
degree in different objects ; for since the form of a thing is its
very essence, and the thing, only differs from its form as the
apparent from the actual object, or the exterior from the interior,
or that which is considered with relation to man from that which
is considered with relation to the universe ; it necessarily follows
that no nature can be considered a real form which does not
uniformly diminish and increase with the given nature. We
are wont to call this our Table of Degrees, or Comparative
Instances.

Table of the Degrees or Comparative Instances of Heat.

We will first speak of those bodies which exhibit no degree of
heat sensible to the touch, but appear rather to possess a poten
tial heat, or disposition and preparation for it. We will then ga

« See No. 38 in the table of the dc~rcca of lieat.

BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 467

on to others, which are actually warm to the touch, and observe
the strength and degree of it.

1. There is no known solid or tangible body which is by itf
own nature originally warm ; for neither stone, metal, sulphur,
fossils, wood, water, nor dead animal carcasses are found warm.
The warm springs in baths appear to be heated accidentally, by
flame, subterraneous fire (such as is thrown up by Etna and
many other mountains), or by the contact of certain bodies, as
heat is exhibited in the dissolution of iron and tin. The degree
of heat, therefore, in inanimate objects is not sensible to our
touch ; but they differ in their degrees of cold, for wood and
metal are not equally cold.* This, however, belongs to the Table
of Degrees of Cold.

2. But with regard to potential heat and predisposition to
flame, we find many inanimate substances wonderfully adapted
to it, as sulphur, naphtha, and saltpetre.

3. Bodies which have previously acquired heat, as horse-dung
from the animal, or lime, and perhaps ashes and soot from fire,
retain some latent portion of it. Hence distillations and separa
tions of substances are effected by burying them in horse-dung,
and heat is excited in lime by sprinkling it with water (as has
been before observed).

4. In the vegetable world we know of no plant, nor part of
any plant (as the exudations or pith) that is warm to man's
touch. Yet (as we have before observed) green weeds grow
warm when confined, and some vegetables are warm and others
cold to our internal touch, i. e. the palate and stomach, or even
after a while to our external skin (as is shown in plasters and
ointments).

5. We know of nothing in the various parts of animals, when
dead or detached from the rest, that is warm to the touch ; for
horse-dung itself does not retain its heat, unless it be confined
and buried. All dung, however, appears to possess a potential
heat, as in manuring fields ; so also dead bodies are endued with
this latent and potential heat to such a degree, that in ceme
teries where people are interred daily the earth acquires a secret
heat, which consumes any recently-deposited body much sooner
than pure earth ; and they tell you that the people of the East
are acquainted with a fine soft cloth, made of the down of birds,
which can melt butter wrapped gently up in it by its own
warmth.

• Bacon here mistakes sensation confined to ourselves for an in
ternal property of distinct substances. Metals are denser than wood1,
and our bodies consequently coming into contact with more particle*
of matter when we touch them, lose a greater quantity of heat tha*
in the case of lighter substances. Ed.

2 H2

4G8 JTOVITM OIIGANUM. [BOOK IL

6. Manures, suck as every kind of dung, chalk, sea-sand, sail*
and the like, have some disposition towards heat.

7. All putrefaction, exhibits some slight degree of heat, though
not enough to be perceptible by the touch ; for neither the sub
stances which by putrefaction are converted into animalculsD,b as
flesh and cheese, nor rotten wood which shines in the dark, are
warm to the touch. The heat, however, of putrid substances
displays itself occasionally in a disgusting and strong scent-

8. The first degree of heat, therefore, in substances whicli are
warm to the human touch appears to be that of animals, and this
admits of a great variety of degrees, for the lowest (as in insects)
is scarcely perceptible, the highest scarcely equals that of tli3
sun's rays in warm climates and weather, and is not so acute as
to be insufferable to the hand. It is said, however, of Constan-
tius, and some others of a very dry constitution and habit of
body, that when attacked with violent fevers, they became so
warm as to appear almost to burn the hand applied to them.

9. Animals become more warm by motion and exercise, wino
and feasting, venery, burning fevers, and grief.

10. In the paroxysm of intermittent fevers the patients are a:
first seized with cold and shivering, but soon afterwards become
more heated than at first, — in burning and pestilential fevers
they are hot from the beginning.

11. Let further inquiry be made into the comparative heat o7
different animals, as fishes, quadrupeds, serpents, birds, and also
of the different species, as the lion, the kite, or man ; for, accord
ing to the vulgar opinion, fishes are the least warm internally
and birds the most, particularly doves, hawks, and ostriches.

12. Let further inquiry be made as to the comparative heat ir
different parts and limbs of the same animal; for milk, blood,
seed, and eggs are moderately warm, and less hot than the out
ward flesh of the animal when in motion or agitated. The degree
of heat of the brain, stomach, heart, and the rest, has not yet
been equally well investigated.

13. All animals are externally cold in winter and cold weather,
but are thought to be internally warmer.

14. The heat of the heavenly bodies, even in the warmest
climates and seasons, never reaches such a pitch as to light or
burn the driest wood or straw, or even tinder without the aid of
burning-glasses. It can, however, raise vapour from moist sub
stances.

15. Astronomers tell us that some stars are hotter than others.

b This was the ancient opinion, but the moderns ir.ciine to the
•>clief that these insects are produced by generation or fecundity from
seeds deposited by their tribes in bodies on the verge of putrefaction*
h'd.

BOOK II. j APHORISMS. 46U

Mars is considered the warmest after the Sun, then Jupiter, then
Venus. The Moon and, above all, Saturn, are considered to be
cold. Among the fixed stars Sirius is thought the warmest, then
Cor Leonis or Regulus, then the lesser Dog-star.

16. The sun gives out more heat as it approaches towards the
perpendicular or zenith, which may be supposed to be the case
with the other planets, according to their degree of heat ; for
instance, that Jupiter gives out more heat when situated be
neath Cancer or Leo than when he is beneath Capricorn and
Aquarius.

17. It is to be supposed that the sun and other planets give
more heat in perigee, from their approximation to the earth,
than when in apogee. But if in any country the sun should be
both in its perigee and nearer to the perpendicular at the same
time, it must necessarily give out more heat than in a country
where it is also in perigee, but situated more obliquely; so that
the comparative altitude of the planets should be observed, and
their approach to or declination from the perpendicular in diffe
rent countries.

18. The sun and other planets arc thought also to give out
more heat in proportion as they are nearer to the larger fixed
stars, as when the sun is in Leo he is nearer Cor Leonis, Cauda
Leonis, Spica Virginia, Sirius, and the lesser Dog-star, than
when he is in Cancer, where, however, he approaches nearer to
the perpendicular. It is probable, also, that the quarters of the
heavens produce a greater heat (though not perceptibly), in pro
portion as they are adorned with a greater number of stars, par
ticularly those of the first magnitude.

19. On the whole, the heat of the heavenly bodies is aug
mented in three ways ; 1. The approacl^to the perpendicular:
2. Proximity or their perigee; 3. The conjunction or union of
stars.

20. There is a very considerable di (Terence between the degree
of heat in animals, nnd even in the rnys of the heavenly bodies
(as they reach us), and the heat of tiie most gentle ilame, and
even of all ignited substances, nay liquids, or the air itself when
unusually heated by lire. For "the flame of spirit of wine,
though diffused and uncollected, is yet able to set straw, linen,
or paper on fire, which animal heat, or that of the sun, will
never accomplish without a burning-glass.

21. There are, however, many degrees of strength and weak-
ness in flame and ignited bodies : but no diligent inquiry lias
been made in this respect, and we must, therefore, pass it hastily
over. Of all flames, that of spirits of wine appears to be the
most gentle, except, perhaps, the Ignis Fafttu*, or the flashes
from the perspiration of animals. Alter this we should be
inclined to place the flame of light and porous vegetables, such

470 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK It

as straw, reeds, and dried leaves ; from which the flame of hair
or feathers differs but little. Then, perhaps, comes the flame of
wood, particularly that which contains but little rosin or pitch;
that of pmall wood, however (such as is usually tied up in
fagots), is milder than that of the trunks or roots of tree*.
This can be easily tried in iron furnaces, where a fire of fagotl
or brandies of trees is of little service. Next follows the flame
of oil, tallow, wax, and the like oily and fat substances, which
are not very violent. But a most powerful heat is found in
pitch and rosin, and a still greater in sulphur, camphire, naphtha,
saltpetre, and salts (after they have discharged their crude
matter), and in their compounds ; as in gunpowder, Greek fire
(vulgarly called wild fire), and its varieties, which possess
such a stubborn heat as scarcely to be extinguished by water.

22. We consider that the flame which results from some im
perfect metals is very strong and active ; but on all these points
further inquiry should be made.

23. The flame of vivid lightning appears to exceed all tli3
above, so as sometimes to have melted even wrought iron into
drops, which the other flames cannot accomplish.

24. In ignited bodies there are different degrees of heat, con
cerning which, also, a diligent inquiry has not been made. Wo
consider the faintest heat to be that of tinder, touchwood, and
dry rope match, such as is used for discharging cannon. Next;
follows that of ignited charcoal or cinders, and even bricks, and
the like; but the most violent is that of ignited metals, as iron,
copper, and the like. Further inquiry, however, must be made
into this also.

25. Some ignited bodies are found to be much warmer thai
some flames ; for instance, red hot iron is much warmer, anc
burns more than the flame of spirits of wine.

26. Some bodies even not ignited, but only heated by the fire
as boiling water, and the air confined in reverberatories, surpass
in heat many flames and ignited substances.

27. Motion increases heat,c as is shown in the bellows and the
blow-pipe; for the harder metals are not dissolved or melted bj
steady quiet fire, without the aid of the blow-pipe.

28. Let an experiment be made with burning-glasses ; in
which respect I have observed, that if a glass be placed at the
distance often inches, for instance, from the combustible object,
it does not kindle or burn it so readily, as if the glass be placed

e The correct measure of the activity of flame may be obtained by
multiplying its natural force into the square of its velocity. On this
Account the flame of vivid lightning mentioned in No. 23, contains
BO much vigour, its velocity being greater than th?* Arising from othel
heat. M.

BOO& II. J APHORISMS. 471

at the distance of five inches (for instance), and be then gradually
aud slowly withdrawn to the distance of ten inches. The cone
and focus of the rays, however, are the same, but the mere
motion increases the effect of the heat.

29. Conflagrations, which take place with a high wind, are
thought to make greater way against than with the wind, be
cause when the wind slackens, the flame recoils more rapidly
than it advances when the wind is favourable.

30. Flame does not burst out or arise unless it have some
hollow space to move and exert itself in, except in the exploding
flame of gunpowder, and the like, where the compression and
confinement of the flame increase its fury.

31. The anvil becomes so hot by the hammer, that if it were
a thin plate it might probably grow red, like ignited iron by re
peated strokes. Let the experiment be tried.

32. But in ignited bodies that are porous, so as to leave room
for the fire to move itself, if its motion be prevented by strong
compression, the fire is immediately extinguished ; thus it is
with tinder, or the burning snuff of a candle or lamp, or even
hot charcoal or cinders; for when they are squeezed by snuffers,
or the foot, and the like, the effect of the fire instantly
ceases.

33. The approach towards a hot body increases heat in pro
portion to the approximation ; a similar effect to that of light,
for the nearer any object is placed towards the light, the more
visible it becomes.

34. The*1 union of different heats incri'as&s heat, unless the
substances be mixed ; for a large and small fire in the same spot
tend mutually to increase each other's heat, but lukewarm water
poured into boiling water cools it.

35. The continued neighbourhood of a warm body increase?
heat. For the heat, which perpetually passes ana emanates
from it, being mixed with that which preceded it, multiplies tho
whole. A fire, for instance, does not warm a room in half an
hour as much as the same fire would in an hour. This does not
apply to light, for a lamp or candle placed in a spot gives no
more light by remaining there, than it did at first.

36. The irritation of surrounding cold increases heat, as may
be seen in fires during a sharp frost. We think that this is
owing not merely to the confinement and compression of the
heat (which forms a sort of union), but also by the exasperation
of it, as when the air or a stick are violently compressed or bent,
they recoil, not only to the point they first occupied, but still

d The fires supply fresh heat, the water has only a certain quan-
Lty of heat, which being diffused over a fresh supply of coole
must be on the whole lowered.

472 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOR 11.

further back. Let an accurate experiment, therefore, be made;
with a stick, or something of the kind, put into the flame, in
order to see whether it be not sooner burnt at the sides than in
the middle of it.e

37. There are many degrees in the susceptibility of heat.
And, first, it must be observed how much a low gentle heat
changes and partially warms even the bodies least susceptible of
it. For even the heat of the hand imparts a little warmth to a
ball of lead or other metal held a short time in it ; BO easily is
heat transmitted and excited, without any apparent change in the
body.

38. Of all bodies that we are acquainted with, air admits and
loses heat the most readily, which is admirably seen in weather
glasses, whose construction is as follows. Take a glass with
a hollow belly, and a thin and long neck ; turn it upside down,
and place it with its mouth downwards into another glass vessel
containing water ; the end of the tube touching the bottom of
the vessel, and the tube itself leaning a little on the edge, so as
to be fixed upright. In order to do this more readily, let a little
wax be applied to the edge, not however so as to block up the
orifice, lest by preventing the air from escaping, the motion,
which we shall presently speak of, and which is very gentle and
delicate, should be impeded.

Before the first glass be inserted in the other, its upper part
(the belly) should be warmed at the fire. Then upon placing it
as we have described, the air (which was dilated by the heat),
after a sufficient time has been allowed for it to lose the addi
tional temperature, will restore and contract itself to the same
dimensions as that of the external or common atmosphere at the
moment of immersion, and the water will be attracted upwards
in the tube to a proportionate extent. A long narrow slip of
paper should be attached to the tube, divided into as many
degrees as you please. You will then perceive, as the weather
grows warmer or colder, that the air contracts itself into a
narrower space in cold weather and dilates in the warm, which
will be exhibited by the rising of the watei as the air contracts
itself, and its depression as the air dilates. The sensibility of
the air with regard to heat or cold is so delicate and exquisite,
that it far exceeds the human touch, so that a ray of sunshine,
the heat of the breath, and much more, that of the hand placed
on the top of the tube, immediately causes an evident depression
of the water. We think, however, that the spirit of animals

* If condensation were the cause of the greater heat, Bacon con
cludes the centre of the flame would be the hotter part, and vice
versa. The fact is, neither of the causes assigned by Bacon is the
true one ; for the fire burns more quickly only, because the draught
of air is more rapid, the cold dense air pressing rapidJy into the
heuted room and towards the chimney.

BOOK II. J APHOIUSMB. 473

possesses a much more delicate susceptibility of heat and cold,
only that it is impeded and blunted by the grossness of their
bodies.

39. After air, we consider those bodies to be most sensible of
heat, which have been recently changed and contracted by cold,
as snow and ice ; for they begin to be dissolved and melt with
the first mild weather. Next, perhaps, follows quicksilver ; then
greasy substances, as oil, butter, and the like; then wood ; then
water ; lastly, stones and metals, which do not easily grow hot,
particularly towards their centre/ When heated, however, they
retain their temperature for a very long time ; so that a brick or
stone, or hot iron, plunged in a basin of cold water, and kept
there for a quarter of an hour or thereabouts, retains such a heat
as not to admit of being touched.

40. The less massive the body is, the more readily it grows
warm at the approach of a heated body, which shows that heat
with us is somewhat averse to a tangible mass.*

41. Heat with regard to the human senses and touch is
various and relative, so that lukewarm water appears hot if the
hand be cold, and cold if the hand be hot.

XIV. Any one may readily see how poor we are in history,
since in the above tables, besides occasionally inserting traditions
and report instead of approved history and authentic instances
(always, however, adding some note if tlieir credit or authority
be doubtful), we are often forced to subjoin, " Let the experiment
be tried — Let further inquiry be made."

XV. We are wont to term the office and use of these three
tables the presenting a review of instances to the understanding ;
and when this has been done, induction itself is to be brought
into action. For on an individual review of all the instances a
nature is to be found, such as always to be present and absent
with the given nature, to increase and decrease with it, and, as
we have said, to form a more common limit of the nature. If
the mind attempt this affirmatively from the first (which it
always will when left to itself), there will spring up phantoms,

' Bacon appears to have confounded combustibility and fusibility
•with susceptibility of heat; for though the metals will certainly neither
dissolve as soon as ice or butter, nor be consumed as soon as wood,
that only shows that different degrees of heat are required to produce
similar effects on different bodies ; but metals much more readily ac
quire and transmit the same degree of heat than any of the above
Bubstances. The rapid transmission renders them generally cold to
the touch. The convenience of fixing wooden handles to vessels con
taining hot water illustrates these observations.

tf Another singular error, the truth being, that solid bodies are the
best conductors ; but of course where heat is diffused over a large mass,
it is less in each part, than if that Dart alone absorbed the whole quanl unj
of heat. Ed.

474 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK It

mere theories and ill-defined notions, with axioms requiring
daily correction. These will, doubtless, be better or worse,
according to the power and strength of the understanding which
creates them. But it is only for God (the bestower and creator
of forms), and perhaps for angels and intelligences, at once to
recognise forms affirmatively at the first glance of contemplation:
man, at least, is unable to do so, and is only allowed to proceed
first by negatives, and then to conclude with affirmatives, after
every species of exclusion.

XVI. We must, therefore, effect a complete solution and
reparation of nature; not bv fire, but by the mind, that divine
fire. The first work of legitimate induction, in the discovery of
forms, is rejection, or the exclusive instances of individual
natures, which are not found in some one instance where the
given nature is present, or are found in any one instance where
it is absent, or are found to increase in any one instance where
the given nature decreases, or the reverse. After an exclusion
correctly effected, an affirmative form will remain as the residuum,
solid, true, and well defined, whilst all volatile opinions go off in
smoke. This is readily said ; but we must arrive at it by a cir
cuitous rout. We shall perhaps, however, omit nothing that
can facilitate our progress.

XVII. Tlie first and almost perpetual precaution and warning
which \ve consider necessary is this ; that none should suppose
from the great part assigned by us to forms, that we mean such
forms as the meditations and thoughts of men have hithe-to been
accustomed to. In the first place, we do not at present mean
the concrete forms, which (as we have observed) are in the com
mon course of things compounded of simple natures, as those of
a lion, an eagle, a rose, gold, or the like. The moment for dis
cussing these will arrive when we come to treat of the latent
process and latent conformation, and the discovery of them
as they exist in what are called substances, or concrete natures.

Nor again, would we be thought to mean (even when treating
of simple natures) 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 suscep
tible subject. The form of heat or form of light, therefore,
means no more than the law of heat or the law of light. Nor
do we ever abstract or withdraw ourselves from things, and the
operative branch of philosophy. When, therefore, we say (for
instance) in our investigation of the form of heat, Heject rarity,
or, llarity is not of the form of heat, it is the same as if we
were to say Man can superinduce heat on a dense body, 01

BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 475

the reverse, Man can abstract or ward off heat from a rare
body.

But if our forms appear to any one tc be somewhat abstracted,
from their mingling and uniting heterogeneous objects (the
heat for instance of the heavenly bodies appears to be very dif
ferent from that of fire ; the fixed red of the rose and the like,
from that which is apparent in the rainbow, or the radiation of
opal or the diamond ;h death by drowning, from that by burning,
the sword, apoplexy, or consumption ; and yet they all agree in
the common natures of heat, redness, and death), let him be
assured that his understanding is enthralled by habit, by general
appearances and hypotheses. For it is most certain that, how-
ever heterogeneous and distinct, they agree in the form or law
which regulates heat, redness, or death ; and that human power
cannot be emancipated and freed from the common course of
nature, and expanded and exalted to new efficients and new
modes of operation, except by the revelation and invention of
forms of this nature. But after this' union of nature, which is
the principal point, we will afterwards, in its proper place, treat
of the divisions and ramifications of nature, whether ordinary or
internal and more real.

XVIII. We must now offer an example of the exclusion or
rejection of natures found by the tables of review, not to be of
the form of heat ; first premising that not only each table is
sufficient for the rejection of any nature, but even each single
instance contained in them. For it is clear from what has been
said that every contradictory instance destroys an hypothesis as
to the form. Still, however, for the sake of clearness, and in
order to show more plainly the use of the tables, we redouble or
repeat the exclusive.

An Example of the Exclusive Table, or of ike Rejection of Natures from
the Form of Heat.

1. On account of the sun's rays, reject elementary (or terres
trial) nature.

2. On account of common fire, and particularly subterranean
fires (which are the most remote and secluded from the rays of
the heavenly bodies), reject celestial nature.

3. On account of the heat acquired by every description of
substances (as minerals, vegetables, the external parts of animals,

" This general law or form has been well illustrated by Newton's
discovery of the decomposition of colours.

1 I. e. the common link or form which connects the various kinds
of natures, such as the difierent hot or red natures enumerated abovu
—Sea Aphorism iii. part 2

476 NOVUM OIIGANUM. [BOOK II,

water, oil, air, <kc.) by mere approximation to the lire or any
warm body, reject all variety and delicate texture of bodies.

4. On account of iron and ignited metals, which warm, other
bodies, and yet neither lose their weight nor substance, reject
the imparting or mixing of the substance of the heating body.

5. On account of boiling water and air, and also those metals
and other solid bodies which are heated, but not to ignition, or
red heat, reject flame or light.

6. On account of the rays of the moon and other heavenly
bodies (except the sun), again reject flame or light.

7. On account of the comparison between red-hot iron and (lie
flame of spirits of wine (for the iron is more hot and less bright,
whilst the flame of spirits of wine is more bright and less hot),
again reject ilame and light.

8. On account of gold and other ignited metals, which are of
the greatest specific density, reject rarity.

9. On account of air, which is generally found to be cold and
yet continues rare, reject rarity.

10. On account of ignited iron,k which does not swell in bulk,
but retains ihe same apparent dimension, reject the absolute
expansive motion of the whole.

11. On account of the expansion of the air in thermometers
and the like, which is absolutely moved and expanded to the eye,
and yet acquires no manifest increase of heat, again reject
absolute or expansive motion of the whole.

12. On account of the ready application of heat to all sub
stances without any destruction or remarkable alteration of them,
reject destructive nature or the violent communication of any
new nature.

13. On account of the agreement and conformity of the effects
produced by cold and heat, reject both expansive and contracting
motion as regards the whole.

14. On account of the heat excited by friction, reject principal
nature, by which we mean that which exists positively, and is
not caused by a preceding nature.

There are other natures to be rejected ; but we are merely
offering examples, and not perfect tables.

None of the above natures are of the form of heat; and man
is freed from them all in his operation upon heat.

XIX. In the exclusive table are laid the foundations of true
induction, which is not, however, completed until the affirmative
be attaired. Nor is the exclusive table perfect, nor can it be eo
at first. For it is clearly a rejection of simple natures ; but if \vc
have not as yet good and just notions of simple natures, how can
the exclusive table be made correct ? Some of the above, as the

• This is erroneous,— all metals expand considerably when heat

BOOK II.] APHORISMS. 477

notion of elementary and celestial nature, and rarity, are vague
and ill-defined. We, therefore, who are neither ignorant nor
forgetful of the great work which we attempt, in rendering the
human understanding adequate to things and nature, by no means
rest satisfied with what we have hitherto enforced, but push
the matter farther, and contrive and prepare more powerful aid
for the use of the understanding, which we will next subjoin.
And, indeed, in the interpretation of nature the mind is to be so
prepared and formed, as to rest itself on proper degrees of cer
tainty, and yet to remember (especially at first) that what is
present depends much upon what remains behind.

XX. Since, however, truth emerges more readily from error
than confusion, we consider it useful to leave the understanding
at liberty to exert itself and attempt the interpretation of nature
in the affirmative, after having constructed and weighed the
three tables of preparation, such as we have laid them down,
both from the instances there collected, and others occurring
elsewhere. Which attempt we are wont to call the liberty of
the understanding, or the commencement of interpretation, or
the first vintage.

The First Vintage of tlie Form, of Heat.

It must be observed that the form of anything is inherent (as
appears clearly from our premises) in each individual instance in
which the thing itself is inherent, or it would not be a form. No
contradictory instance, therefore, can be alleged. The form,
however, is found to be much more conspicuous and evident in
some instances than in others ; in those (for example) where its
nature is less restrained and embarrassed, and reduced to rule by
other natures. Such instances we are wont to term coruscations,
or conspicuous instances. We must proceed, then, to the first
vintage of the form of heat.

From the instances taken collectively, as well as singly, the
nature whose limit is heat appears to be motion. This is chiefly
exhibited in flame, which is in constant motion, and in warm or
boiling liquids, which are likewise in constant motion. It is also
shown in the excitement or increase of heat by motion, as by
bellows and draughts: for which see Inst. 29, Tab. 3, and by
other species of motion, as in Inst. 28 and 31, Tab. 3. It is also
shown by the extinction of fire and heat upon any strong pres
sure, which restrains and puts a stop to motion ; for which see
Inst. 30 and 32, Tab. 3. It is further shown by this circumstance,
namely, that every substance is destroyed, or at least materially
changed, by| strong and powerful fire and heat : whence it is
clear that tumult and confusion are occasioned by heat, together
with a violent motion in the internal parts of bodies; and this
gradually tends to the 'a: dissolution.

476 SOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK n

What we have said with regard to motion must be thus under-
stood, when taken as the genus of heat : it must not be thought
that heat generates motion, or motion heat (though in some
respects this be true), but that the very essence of heat, or the
substantial self1 of heat, is motion and nothing else, limited,
however, by certain differences which we will presently add, after
giving some cautions for avoiding ambiguity.

Sensible heat is relative, and regards man, not universe ; and
is rightly held to be merely the effect of heat on animal spirit.
It is even variable in itself, since the same body (in different
states of sensation) excites the feeling of heat and of cold ; this
is shown by Inst. 41, Tab. 3.

JSior should we confound the communication of heat or its
transitive nature, by which a body grows warm at the approach
of a heated body, with the form of heat; for heat is one thing
and heating another. Heat can be excited by friction without
any previous heating body, and, therefore, heating is excluded
from the form of heat. Even when heat is excited by the ap
proach of a hot body, this depends not on the form of heat, but
on another more profound and common nature ; namely, that of
assimilation and multiplication, about which a separate inquiry
must be made.

The notion of fire is vulgar, and of no assistance ; it is merely
compounded of the conjunction of heat and light in any body, as
in ordinary flame and red-hot substances.

Laying aside all ambiguity, therefore, we must lastly consider
the true differences which limit motion and render it the form of
heat.

I. The first difference is, that heat is an expansive motion, by
which the body strives to dilate itself, and to occupy a greater
space than before. This difference is principally seen in flame,
where the smoke or thick vapour is clearly dilated and bursts
into flame.

It is also shown in all boiling liquids, which swell, rise, and
boil up to the sight, and the process of expansion is urged for
ward till they are converted into a much more extended and
dilated body than the liquid itself, such as steam, smoke, or air.

It is also shown in wood and combustibles where exudation
sometimes takes place, and evaporation always.

It is also shown in the melting of metals, which, being very-
compact, do not easily swell and dilate, but yet their spirit, when
dilated and desirous of further expansion, forces and urges its
thicker parts into dissolution, and if the heat be pushed still'
farther, reduces a considerable part of them into a volatile state.

It is also shown in iron or stones, which, though not melted or

1 "Quid ipsum," the TO rl i\v tlvai of Aristotle.

UOOK II.'J APHORISMS. 479

dissolved, are however softened. The same circumstance takes
place in sticks of wood, which become flexible when a little
heated in warm ashes.

It is most readily observed in air, which instantly and mani
festly expands with a small decree of heat, as in Inst. 38, Tab. 3.

It is also shown in the contrary nature of cold ; for cold con
tracts and narrows every substance;"1 so that in intense frosts
nails fall out of the wall and brass cracks, and heated glass
exposed suddenly to the cold cracks and breaks. So the air by a
slight decree of cold, contracts itself, as in Inst. 38, Tab. 3.
More will be said of this in the inquiry into cold.

Nor is it to be wondered at if cold and heat exhibit many com
mon effects (for which see Inst. 32, Tab 2), since two differences,
of which we shall presently speak, belong to each nature :
although in the present difference the effects be diametrically
opposed to each other. For heat occasions an expansive anfi
dilating motion, but cold a contracting and condensing motion.

II. The second difference is a modification of the preceding,
namely, that heat is an expansive motion, tending towards the
exterior, but at the same time bearing the body upwards. For
there is no doubt that there be many compound motions, as an
arrow or dart, for instance, has both a rotatory and progressive
motion. In the same way the motion of heat is both expansive
and tending upwards.

This difference is shown by putting the tongs or poker into the
fire. If placed perpendicularly with the hand above, they soon
burn it, but much less speedily if the hand hold them sloping or
from below.

It is also conspicuous in distillations per dcsccnsum, which men
are wont to employ with delicate flowers, whose scent easily
evaporates. Their industry has devised placing the lire above
instead of below, that it may scorch less ; for not only flume but
all heat has an upward tendency.

Let an experiment be made on the contrary nature of cold,
whether its contraction be downwards, as the expansion of heat
is upwards. Take, therefore, two iron rods or two glass tubes,
alike in other respects, and warm them a little, and place a
sponge, dipped in cold water, or some snow, below the one and
above the other. We are of opinion that the extremities will
grow cold in that rod first where it is placed beneath, as the
contrary takes place with regard to heat.

m To show the error of the text, we need only mention the case of
water, which, when confined in corked vases, and exposed to the action
of a freezing atmosphere, is sure to swell out and break those vessela
•arhioh are not sufficiently large to contain its expanded volume. Megt»
iotti narrates a hundred other instances of a similar character. Ed.

480 NOVUM ORGANUM. [ROOK II,

III. The third difference is this ; that heat is not a uniform
expansive motion of the whole, but of the small particles of the
body ; and this motion being at the same time restrained, re-
pulsed, and reflected, becomes alternating, perpetually hurrying,
striving, struggling, and irritated by the repercussion, which is
the source of the violence of flame and heat.

But this difference is chiefly shown in flame and boiling liquids,
which always hurry, swell, and subside again in detached parts.

It is also shown in bodies of such hard texture as not to swell
or dilate in bulk, such as red-hot iron, in which the heat is most
violent.

It is also shown by the fires burning most briskly in the
coldest weather.

It is also shown by this, that when the air is dilated in the
thermometer uniformly and equably, without any impediment or
repulsion, the heat is not perceptible. In confined draughts also,
although they break out very violently, no remarkable heat is
perceived, because the motion affects the whole, without any
alternating motion in the particles ; for which reason try whether
flame do not burn more at the sides than in its centre.

It is also shown in this, that all burning proceeds by the
minute pores of bodies, — undermining, penetrating, piercing,
and pricking them as if with an infinite number of needle-points.
Hence all strong acids (if adapted to the body on which they
act) exhibit the effects of fire, from their corroding and pungent
nature.

The difference of which we now speak is common also to the
nature of cold, in which the contracting motion is restrained by
the resistance of expansion, as in heat the expansive motion is
restrained by the resistance of contraction.

Whether, therefore, the particles of matter penetrate inwards
or outwards, the reasoning is the same, though the power be very
different, because we have nothing on earth which is intensely cold.

I\r. The fourth difference is a modification of the preceding,
namely, that this stimulating or penetrating motion should be
rapid and never sluggish, and should take place not in the very
minutest particles, but rather in those of some tolerable dimen
sions.

It is shown by comparing the effects of fire with those of
time. Time dries, consumes, undermines, and reduces to ashes
as well as fire, and perhaps to a much finer degree ; but as its
motion ia very slow, and attacks very minute particles, no heat
is perceived.

It is also shown in a comparison of the dissolution of iron and
gold ; for gold is dissolved without the excitement of any heat,
but iron with a vehement excitement of it, although most in the
*ame time, because in the former the penetration of the svp«v*

BOOK II.] THE NATUftE or HEAT 481

rating acid is rnild, and gently insinuates itself, and the particles
of gold yield easily, but the penetration of iron is violent, and
attended with some struggle, and its particles are more ob
stinate.

It is partially shown, also, in some gangrenes and mortifica
tions of flesh, which do not excite great heat or pain, from the
gentle nature of the putrefaction.

Let this suffice for a first vintage, or the commencement of
the interpretation of the form of heat by the liberty of the un
derstanding.

From thig first vintage the form or true definition of heat
^considered relatively to the universe and not to the sense) is
briefly thus : — Heat is an expansive motion restrained, and
striving to exert itself in the smaller particles." The expansion
is modified by its tendency to rise, though expanding towards
the exterior; and the effort is modified by its not being sluggish,
but active and somewhat violent.

With regard to the operative definition, the matter is the same.
If you are able to excite a dilating or expansive motion in any
natural body, and so to repress that motion and force it on itself
a& not to allow the expansion to proceed equally, but only to be
partially exerted and partially repressed, you will beyond all
doubt produce heat, without any consideration as to whether the
body be of earth (or elementary, as they term it), or imbued with
celestial influence, luminous or opaque, rare or dense, locally
expanded or contained within the bounds of its first dimensions,
verging to dissolution or remaining fixed, animal, vegetable, or

n Bacon's inquisition into the nature of heat, as an example of the
mode of interpreting nature, cannot be looked upon otherwise than as a
complete failure. Though the exact nature of this phenomenon is still an
obscure and controverted matter, the science of thermotics now con
sists of many important truths, and to none ot these truths is there so
much as an approximation in Bacon's process. The steps by which this
science really advanced were the discovery of a measure of a heal
or temperature, the establishment of the laws ol conduction and
radiation, of the laws ot specific heat, latent heat, and the like. Such
advances have led to Ampere's hypothesis, that heat consists in the
vibrations of an imponderable fluid ; and to Laplace's theory, that tem
perature consists in the internal radiation of a similar medium. These
hypotheses cannot yet be said to be even probable, but at least they are
BO modified as to include some of the preceding laws which are firmly
established, whereas Bacon's " form," or true definition of heat, as
stated in the text, includes no laws of phenomena, explains no process,
and is indeed itself an example of illicit generalization.

In all the details of his example of heat he is unfortunate. He m-
tludes in his collection of instances, the hot tastes of aromatic plants,
the caustic effects of acids, and many other facts which cannot be
»scribed to heat without a studious laxity in the use of the word. Ed.

482 KOVUM ORtfAtfUit [BOOK tL

mineral, water, or oil, or air, or any other substance whatever
susceptible of such motion. Sensible heat is the same, but con
sidered relatively to the senses. Let us now proceed to further
helps.

XXI. After our tables of first review, our rejection or exclu
sive table, and the first vintage derived from them, we must
advance to the remaining helps of the understanding with regard
to the interpretation of nature, and a true and perfect induc
tion, in offering which we will take the examples of cold and
heat where tables are necessary, but where fewer instances arc
required, we will go througli a variety of others, so as neither to
confound investigation nor to narrow our doctrine.

In the first place, therefore, we will treat of prerogative in
stances;0 2. Of the supports of induction ; 3. Of the correctior
of induction ; 4. Of varying the investigation according to the

By this term Bacon understands general phenomena, taken in order
from the great mass of indiscriminative facts, which, as they lie in
nature, are apt to generate confusion by their number, indistinctness,
and complication. Such classes of phenomena, as being peculiarly
suggestive of causation, lie quaintly classes under the title of prerogative
inquiries, either seduced by the fanciful analogy, which such instances
bore to the prcroyativa ccntwia in the Roman Comitia, or justly con
sidering them as Herschell supposes to hold a kind of prerogative dig
nity from being peculiarly suggestive of causation.

Two high authorities in physical science (v. Herschell, Nat. Phil,
art. 192 ; Whewell's Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, vol. ii. p. 243)
pronounce these instances of little service in the task of induction,
being for the most part classed not according to the ideas which they
involve, or to any obvious circumstance in the facts of which they
consist, but according to the extent and manner of their influence upon
the inquiry in which they are employed. Thus we have solitary in
stances, migrating instances, ostensive instances, clandestine instances,
so termed according to the degree in which they exhibit, or seem to ex
hibit, the property, whose nature we would examine. We have guide-
post instances, crucial instances, instances of the parted road, of the door
way, of the lamp, according to the guidance they supply to our advance.
"Whewell remarks that such a classification is much of the same nature as
if, having to teach the art of building, we were to describe tools with
reference to the amount and place of the work which they must do,
instead of pointing out their construction and use ; as if we were to inform
the pupil that we must have tools for lifting a stone up, tools for moving
it side-ways, tools for laying it square, and tools for cementing it firmly.
The means are thus lost in the end, and we reap the fruits of unme
thodical arrangement in the confusion of cross division. In addition,
all the instances are leavened with the error of confounding the lawa
with the causes of phenomena, an.i we are urged to adopt the fun da*
mental error of seeking therein the universal agents, or general causes
of phenomena, without ascending the gradual steps of intermediate
Laws. Ed.

BOOK: I1.1J PREROGATIVE INSTANCES. 4 83

nature of the subject ; 5. Of the prerogative natures with respect
to investigation, or of what should be the first or last objects of
our research ; 6. Of the limits of investigation, or a synopsis of
all natures that exist in the universe; 7. Of the application to
practical purposes, or of what relates to man ; 8. Of the prepa
rations for investigation ; 9. And lastly, of the ascending and
descending scale of axioms. p

XXII. Amongst the prerogative instances we will first men
tion solitary instances. Solitary instances are those which
exhibit the required nature in subjects that have nothing in
common with any other subject than the nature in question, or
which do not exhibit the required nature in subjects resembling
others in every respect except that of the nature in question ;
for these instances manifestly remove prolixity, and accelerate
and confirm exclusion, so that a few of them are of as much
avail as many.

For instance, let the inquiry be the nature of colour. Prisms,
crystalline gems, which yield colours not only internally but on
the wall, dews, &c., are solitary instances ; for they have nothing
in common with the fixed colours in flowers and coloured gems,
metals, woods, &c., except the colour itself. Hence we easily
deduce that colour is nothing but a modification of the image of
the incident and absorbed light, occasioned in the former case
by the different degrees of incidence, in the latter by the various
textures and forms of bodies.'1 These are solitary instances as
regards similitude.

Again, in the same inquiry the distinct veins of white and
black in marble, and the variegated colours of flowers of the
same species, are solitary instances ; for the black and white of
marble, and the spots of white and purple in the flowers of the
stock, agree in every respect but that of colour. Thence we
easily deduce that colour has not much to do with the intrinsij
natures of any body, but depends only on the coarser and as it
were mechanical arrangement of the parts. These are solitary
instances as regards difference. We call them both solitary or
wild, to borrow a word from the astronomers.

XXIII. In the secc/nd rank of prerogative instances we will
consider migrating instances. In these the required nature
passes towards generation, having no previous existence, or to
wards corruption, having first existed. In each of these divi
sions, therefore, the instances are always twofold, or rather it is
one instance, first in motion or on its passage, and then brought

P Of these nine geneial heads no more than the hrst is prosecuted by
the author.

i This very nearly approaches to Sir I. Newton's discovery of the
decomposition of light by the prism.

484 KOVUM OtlOANtJtf. (BOOfc 11

to the opposite conclusion. These instances not only hasten and
confirm exclusion, but also reduce affirmation, or the form itself,
to a narrow compass ; for the form must be something conferred
by this migration, or, on the contrary, removed and destroyed by
it; an 4 although all exclusion advances affirmation, yet this
takes place more directly in the same than in different subjects;
but if the form (as it is quite clear from what has been advanced)
exhibit itself in one subject, it leads to all. The more simple
the migration is, the more valuable is the instance. These mi
grating instances are, moreover, very useful in practice, for
since they manifest the form, coupled with that which causes or
destroys it, thoy point out the right practice in some subjects,
and thence there is an easy transition to those with which they
ore most allied. There is, however, a degree of danger which
demands caution, namely, lest they should refer the form too
much to its efficient cause, and imbue, or at least tinge, the un
derstanding with a false notion of the form from the appearance
of such cause, which is never more than a vehicle or conveyance
of the form. This may easily be remedied by a proper applica
tion of exclusion.

Let us then give an example of a migrating instance. Let
•whiteness be the required nature. An instance which passes
towards generation is glass in its entire and in its powdered
state, or water in its natural state, and when agitated to froth ;
for glass when entire, and water in its natural state, arc transpa
rent and not white, but powdered glass and the froth of water
are white and not transparent. "We must inquire, therefore,
what has happened to the glass or water in the course of this
migration ; for it is manifest that the form of whiteness is con
veyed and introduced by the bruising of the glass and the agita
tion of the water; but nothing is found to have been introduced
but a diminishing of the parts of the glass and water and the
insertion of air. Yet this is no slight progress towards dis
covering the form of whiteness, namely, that two bodies, in
themselves more or less transparent (as air and water, or air and
glass), when brought into contact in minute portions, exhibit
whiteness from the unequal refraction of the rays of light.

But here we must also give an example of the danger and
caution of which we spoke ; for instance, it will readily occur to
an understanding perverted by efficients, that air is always
necessary for producing the form of whiteness, or that white
ness is only generated by transparent bodies, which suppositions
are both false, and proved to be so by many exclusions ; nay, it
•will rather appear (without any particular regard to air or the
like), that all bodies -which are even in such of their parts aa
affect the sight exhibit transparency, those which are uneven
and of simple texture whiteness, those which arc uneven and of

BOOK II.] CONSPICUOUS IXSTANCEa 485

compound but regular texture all the other colours except black,
but those which are uiieven and of a compound irregular and
confused texture exhibit blackness. An example has been given,
therefore, of an instance migrating towards generation in the
required nature of whiteness. An instance migrating towards
corruption in the same nature is that of dissolving froth or snow,
for they lose their whiteness and assume the transparency of
water in its pure state without air.

Nor should we by any means omit to state, that under mi
grating instances we must comprehend not only those which
pass towards generation and destruction, but also those which
pass towards increase or decrease, for they, too, assist in the dis
covery ot the form, as is clear from our definition of a form and
the Table of Degrees. Hence paper, which is white when dry,
is less white when moistened (from the exclusion of air and ad
mission of water), and tends more to transparency. The reason
is the same as in the above instances/

XXIV. In the third rank of prerogative instances we will
class conspicuous instances, of which we spoke in our first vin
tage of the form of heat, and which we are also wont to call co
ruscations, or free and predominant instances. They are such
as show the required nature in its bare substantial shape, and at
its height or greatest degree of power, emancipated and free
from all impediments, or at least overcoming, suppressing, and
restraining them by the strength of its qualities; for since every
body is susceptible of many united forms of natures in the con
crete, the consequence is that they mutually deaden, depress,
break, and confine each other, and the individual forms arc
obscured. But there are some subjects in which the required
nature exists in its full vigour rather than in others, either from
the absence of any impediment, or the predominance ot its qua
lity. Such instances are eminently conspicuous. But even in
these care must be taken, and the hastiness of the understanding
checked, for whatever makes a show of the form, and forces it
forward, is to be suspected, and recourse must be had to severe
and diligent exclusion.

For example, let heat be the required nature. The thermo
meter is a conspicuous instance of the expansive motion, which
(as has been observed) constitutes the chief part of the form of
heat; for although flame clearly exhibits expansion, yet from its
being extinguished every moment, it does not exhibit the pro
gress of expansion. Boiling water again, from its rapid conver-

* The mineral kingdom, as displaying the same nature in all its gra
dations, from the shells so perfect in structure in limestone to the finer
marbles in which their nature gradually disappears, is the great t,he;ttrf
far instances oi

486 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK IL

iion into vapour, docs not so well exhibit the expansion of water
in its own shape, whilst red-hot iron and the like are so far from
showing this progress, that, on the contrary, the expansion itself
is scarcely evident to the senses, on account of its spirit being
repressed and weakened by the compact and coarse particles
which subdue and restrain it. But the thermometer strikingly
exhibits the expansion of the air as being evident and progres
sive, durable and not transitory.1

Take another example. Let the required nature be weight.
Quicksilver is a conspicuous instance of weight; for it is far
heavier than any other substance except gold, which is not much
heavier, and it is a better instance than gold for the purpose of
indicating the form of weight; for gold is solid and consistent,
which qualities must be referred to density, but quicksilver is
liquid and teeming with spirit, yet much heavier than the dia
mond and other substances considered to be most solid ; whence
it is shown that the form of gravity or weight predominates only
in the quantity of matter, and not in the close fitting of it.1

XXV. In the fourth rank of prerogative instances we will
class clandestine instances, which we are also wont to call twi
light instances; they are as it were opposed to the conspicuous
instances, for they show the required nature in its lowest state
of efficacy, and as it were its cradle and first rudiments, making
an effort and a sort of first attempt, but concealed and subdued
by a contrary nature. Such instances are, however, of great
importance in discovering forms, for as the conspicuous tend
easily to differences, so do the clandestine best lead to genera,
that is, to those common, natures of which the required natures
are only the limits.

As an example, let consistency, or that which confines itself,
be the required nature, the opposite of which is a liquid or flowing
state. The clandestine instances are such as exhibit some weak
and low degree of consistency in fluids, as a water bubble, which
is a sort of consistent and bounded pellicle formed out of the

• Bacon was not «i*arc of the fact- since brought to light by
Kilmer, that down to fourteen fathoms from the earth's mean level the
thermometer remains fixed at the tenth degree, but that as the thermo
meter descends below that depth the heat increases in a ratio propor
tionate to the descent, which happens with little variation in all climates.
lUiffon considers this a proof of a central fire in our planet. Ed.

1 All the diversities of bodies depend irpon two principles, i. e. the
quantity and the position of the elements that enter into their composi
tion. The primaiy difference is not that which depends on the greatest
«>r least quantity of material elements, but that which depends on their
position. It was the quick perception of this truth that made Leibnitz
say that to complete mathematics it was necessary to join
ol quantity the analysis of position, #<&

BOOK II.] CONSPICUOUS INSTANCES. 487

substance of the water. So eaves' droppings, if there be enough
water to follow them, draw themselves out into a thin thread, not
to break the continuity of the water, but if there be not enough
to follow, the water forms itself into a round drop, which is the
best form to prevent a breach of continuity ; and at the moment
the thread ceases, and the water begins to fall in drops, the
thread of water recoils upwards to avoid such a breach. Nay, in
metals, which when melted are liquid but more tenacious, the
melted drops often recoil and are suspended. There is some
thing similar in the instance of the child's looking-glass, which
little boys will sometimes form of spittle between rushes, and
vhere the same pellicle of water is observable ; and still more in
ihat other amusement of children, when they take some water
rendered a little more tenacious by soap, and inflate it with a
pipe, forming the water into a sort of castle of bubbles, which
assumes such consistency, by the interposition of the air, as to
admit of being thrown some little distance without bursting.
The best example is that of froth and snow, which assume such
consistency as almost to admit of being cut, although composed
of air and water, both liquids. All these circumstances clearly
show that the terms liquid and consistent are merely vulgar
notions adapted to the sense, and that in realitv all bodies have
a tendency to avoid a breach of continuity, faint and weak in
bodies composed of homogeneous parts (as is the case with liquids),
but more vivid and powerful in those composed of heterogeneous
parts, because the approach of heterogeneous matter binds bodies
together, whilst the insinuation of homogeneous matter loosens
and relaxes them.

Again, to take another example, let the required nature be
attraction or the cohesion of bodies. The most remarkable con
spicuous instance with regard to its form is the magnet. The
contrary nature to attraction is non-attraction, though in a similar
substance. Thus iron does not attract iron, lead lead, wood
wood, nor water water. But the clandestine instance is that of
the magnet armed with iron, or rather that of iron in the magnet
BO armed. For its nacure is such that the magnet when armed
docs not attract iron more powerfully at any given distance than
when unarmed ; but if the iron be brought in contact with the
armed magnet, the latter will sustain a much greater weight than
the simple magnet, from the resemblance of substance in the two
portions of iron, a quality altogether clandestine and hidden,
m the iron until the magnet was introduced. It is manifest,
therefore, that the form of cohesion is something which is vivid
and robust in the magnet, and hidden and weak in the iron. It
is to be observed, also, that small wooden arrows without an iron
point, when discharged from large mortars, penetrate further
into wooden substances (such as the ribs of ships or the like),

488 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK 1L

than the same arrows pointed with iron," owing to the similarity
of substance, though this quality was previously latent in the
wood. Again, although in the mass air does not appear to attract
air, nor water water, yet when one bubble is brought near
another, they are both more readily dissolved, from the tendency
to contact of the water with the water, and the air with the air.*
These clandestine instances (which are, as has been observed, of
the most important service) are principally to be observed in
small portions of bodies, for the larger masses observe more
universal and general forms, as ^ill be mentioned in its proper
place. y

XXVI. In the fifth rank of prerogative instances we will class
constitutive instances, which we are wont also to call collective
instances. They constitute a species or lesser form, as it were,
of the required nature. For since the real forms (which are

tt Query?

x The real cause of this phenomenon is the attraction of the surface-
water in the vessel by the sides ot the bubbles. When the bubbles
approach, the sides nearest each other both tend to raise tha small space
of water between them, and consequently less water is raised by each
of these nearer sides than by the exterior part of the bubble, and the
greater weight of the water raised on the exterior parts pushes the
bubbles together. In the same manner a bubble near the side of a
vessel is pushed towards it ; the vessel and bubble b»th drawing the
water that is between them. The latter phenomenon cannot be explained
on Bacon's hypothesis.

y Modern discoveries appear to bear out the sagacity of Bacon's
remark, and the experiments of Baron Cagnard may be regarded as a
first step towards its full demonstration. After the new facts elicited
by that philosopher, there can be little doubt that the solid, liquid, and
aeriform state of bodies are merely stages in a progress of gradual transi
tion from one extreme to the other, and that however strongly marked
the distinctions between them may appear, they will ultimately turn
out to be separated by no sudden or violent line of demarcation, but
slide into each other by imperceptible gradations. Bacon's suggestion,
however, is as old as Pythagoras, and perhaps simultaneous with the
first dawn of philosophic reason. The doctrine of the reciprocal trans
mutation of the elements underlies all the physical systems oi the
ancients, and was adopted by the Epicureans as well as the Stoics.
Ovid opens his last book of the Metamorphoses with the poetry oi the
subject, where he expressly points to the hint of Bacon : —

— " Tenuatus in auras

Aeraque humor abit, &c. &c.

**•*»*

Inde retro redeunt, idemque retexitur ordo." — xv. 246 — 249.
and Seneca, in the third book of his Natural Philosophy, quest, iv.
states the opinion in more precise language tha.n either the Ancient
or the modern philosopher* £d,

BOOK II.] CONSTITUTIVE INSTANCES. 489

always convertible with the given nature) lie at some depth, and
are not easily discovered, the necessity of the case and the
infirmity of the human understanding require that the particular
forms, which collect certain groups of instances (but by no means
all) into some common notion, should not be neglected, but most
diligently observed. For whatever unites nature, even imper
fectly, opens the way to the discovery of the form. The instances,
therefore, which are serviceable in this respect are of no mean
power, but endowed with some degree of prerogative.

Here, nevertheless, great care must be taken that, after the
discovery of several of these particular forms, and the establish
ing of certain partitions or divisions of the required nature
derived from them, the human understanding do not at once rest
satisfied, without preparing for the investigation of the great or
leading form, and taking it for granted that nature is compound
and divided from its very root, despise and reject any farther
union as a point of superfluous refinement, and tending to mere
abstraction.

For instance, let the required nature be memory, or that which
excites and assists memory. The constitutive instances are order
or distribution, which manifestly assists memory ; topics or
common-places in. artificial memory, which may be either places
in their literal sense, as a gate, a corner, a window, and the like,
or familiar persons and marks, or anything else (provided it be
arranged in a determinate order), as animals, plants, and words,
letters, characters, historical persons, and the like, of which,
however, some are more convenient than others. All these
common-places materially assist memory, and raise it far above
its natural strength. Verse, too, is recollected and learnt more
easily than prose. From this group of three instances — order,
the common-places of artificial memory, and verses — is consti
tuted one species of aid for the memory,7 which may be well
termed a separation from infinity. For when a man strives to
recollect or recall anything to memory, without a preconceived
notion or perception of the object of his search, he inquires
about, and labours, and turns from point to point, as if involved
in infinity. But if he have any preconceived notion, this infinity
is separated off, and the range of his memory is brought within
closer limits. In the three instances given above, the precon
ceived notion is clear and determined. In the first, it must be
something that agrees with order ; in the second, an image which

1 The author's own system of Memoria Technica may be found in
the De Augmentis, chap. xv. We may add that, notwithstanding
Bacon's assertion that he intended his method to apply to religion,
politics, and morals, this is the only lengthy illustration he has adduce!
uf any subject out of the domain of ;>hysic:vl science, £U,

490 KOVUM ORGANU?!. [BOOK IL

has some relation or agreement with the fixed common -places ; in
the third, words which fall into a verse : and thus infinity is
divided off. Other instances will offer another species, namely,
that whatever brings the intellect into contact with something
that strikes the sense (the principal point of artificial memory),
assists the memory. Others again offer another species, namely,
whatever excites an impression by any powerful passion, as fear,
wonder, shame, delight, assists the memory. Other instances
will afford another species : thus those impressions remain most
fixed in the memory which are taken frooi ike mind when clear
and least occupied by preceding or Stirc&Aui'Ag notions, such as
the things we learn in childhood, or imagine before sleep, and
the first time of any circumstance happening. Other instances
afford the following species : namely, that a multitude of circum
stances or handles assist the memory, such as writing in para
graphs, reading aloud, or recitation. Lastly, other instances
afford still another species : thus the things we anticipate, and
which rouse our attention, are more easily remembered than
transient events ; as if you read any work twenty times over,
you will not learn it by heart so readily as if you were to read it
but ten times, trying each time to repeat it, and when your
memory fails you looking into the book. There are, therefore,
six lesser forms, as it were, of things which assist the memory :
namely — 1, the separation of infinity ; 2, the connection of the
mind with the senses ; 3, t he impression in strong passion ;
4, the impression on the mind when pure ; 6, the multitude of
handles ; 6, anticipation.

Again, for example's sake, let the required nature be taste or
the power ot tasting. The following instances are constitutive :
I. Those who do not smell, but are deprived by nature of that
sense, do not perceive or distinguish rancid or putrid food by
their taste, nor garlic from roses, and the like. 2. Again, those
whose nostrils are obstructed by accident (such as a cold) do not
distinguish any putrid or rancid matter from anything sprinkled
with rose-water. 3. If those who suffer from a cold blow their
noses violently at the very moment in which they have anything
fetid or perfumed in their mouth, or on their palate, they instantly
have a clear perception of the fetor or perfume. These instances
jifford and constitute this species or division of taste, namely,
that it is in part nothing else than an internal smelling, passing
and descending through the upper passages of the nostrils to the
mouth and palate. But, on the other hand, those whose power
of smelling is deficient or obstructed, perceive what is salt,
sweet, pungent, acid, rough, and bitter, and the like, as well as
any one else : so that the taste is clearly something compounded
of the internal smelling, and an exquisite species of touch which
we will not here discuss.

BOOK II.] CONSTITUTIVE INSTANCES. 491

Again, as another example, let the required nature be the
communication of quality, without intermixture of substance.
The instance of light will afford or constitute one species of com
munication, heat and the magnet another. For the communica
tion of light is momentary and immediately arrested upon the
removal of the original light. But heat, and the magnetic force,
when once transmitted to or excited in another body, remain
fixed for a considerable time after the removal of the source.

In line, the prerogative of constitutive instances is considerable,
for they materially assist the definitions (especially in detail) and
the divisions or partitions of natures, concerning which Plato has
well said, " He who can properly define and divide is to be con
sidered a god."*

a The collective instances here meant are no other than general
facts or laws of some degree of generality, and are themselves the
result oi induction. For example, the system of Jupiter, or Saturn
with its satellites, is a collective instance, and materially assisted in
securing the admission of the Copernican system. We have here in
miniature, and displayed at one view, a system analogous to that of the
planets about the sun, of which, from the circumstance ot our being
involved in it, and unfavourably situated for seeing it otherwise than in
detail, we are incapacitated from forming a general idea, but by slow
and progressive efforts of reason.

But there is a species of collective instance which Bacon does not
seem to have contemplated, in which particular phenomena are pre
sented in such numbers at once, as to make the induction of their law
a matter of ocular inspection. For example, the parabolic form as
sumed by a jet of water spouted out of a hole is a collective instance of
the velocities and directions of the motions of all the particles which
compose it seen together, and which thus leads us without trouble to
recognize the law of the motion of a projectile. Again, the beautiful
figures exhibited by sand strewed on regular plates of glass or metal
set in vibration, are collective instances of an infinite number of points
which remain at rest while the- remainder of the plate vibrates, and in
consequence afford us an insight into the law which regulates their
arrangement and sequence throughout the whole surface. The richly
coloured lemniscates seen around the optic axis of crystals exposed to
polarized light afford a striking instance of the same kind, pointing at
once to the general mathematical expression of the law which regulates
their production. Such collective instances as these lead us to a general
law by an induction which offers itselt spontaneously, and thus furnish
advanced posts in philosophical exploration. The laws ol Kepler,
which Bacon ignored on account of his want of mathematical taste,
may be cited as a collective instance. The first is, that the planets
move in elliptical orbits, having the sun for their common focus. The
second, that about this focus the radium vector of each planet describes
equal areas in equal times. The third, that the squares of the periodic
times of the planets are as the cubes of their mean distance from the
aun. This collective instance "opened the way "to the discovery oJ
the Newtc-man la.w of gravitation. .#(/,

492 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK IL

XXVIT. In the sixth rank of prerogative instances we will
place similar or proportionate instances, which we are also wont
to call physical parallels, or resemblances. They are such as
exhibit the resemblances and connection of things" not in minor
forms (as the constitutive do), but at once in the concrete. They
are therefore, as it were, the first and lowest steps towards the
union of nature ; nor do they immediately establish any axiom,
but merely indicate and observe a certain relation of bodies to
each other. But although they be not of much assistance in
discovering forms, yet they are of great lulvantage in disclosing
the frame of parts of the universe, upon whose members they
practise a species of anatomy, and thecce occasionally lead us
gently on to sublime and noble axioms, specially such as relate
to the construction of the world, rather than to simple natures
and forms.

As an example, take the following similar instances : a mirror
and the eye ; the formation of the ear, and places which return
an echo. From such similarity, besides observing the resem
blance (which is useful for many purposes), it is easy to collect
and form this axiom. That the organs of the senses, and bodies
which produce reflections to the senses, are of a similar nature.
Again, the understanding once informed of this, rises easily to a
higher and nobler axiom ; namely, that the only distinction
between sensitive and inanimate bodies, in those points in which
they agree and sympathise, is this ; in the former, animal spirit
is added to the arrangement of the body, in the latter it is want
ing. So that there might be as many senses in animals as there
are points of agreement with inanimate bodies, if the animated
body were perforated, so as to allow the spirit to have access to
the limb properly disposed for action, as a lit organ. And, on
the other hand, there are, without doubt, as many motions in an
inanimate as there are senses in the animated body, though the
animal spirit be absent. There must, however, be many more
motions in inanimate bodies than senses in the animated, from
the small number of organs of sense. A very plain example ot
this is afforded by pains. For, as animals are liable to many
kinds and various descriptions of pains (such as those of burning,
of intense cold, of pricking, squeezing, stretching, and the like),
so is it most certain, that the same circumstances, as far as
motion is concerned, happen to inanimate bodies, such as wood
or stone when burnt, frozen, pricked, cut, bent, bruised, and the
like ; although there be no sensation, owing to the absence of
animal spirit.

Again, wonderful as it may appear, the roots and branches of
trees are similar instances. For every vegetable swells and
throws out its constituent parts towards the circumference, both
s apd (JownxvarcU. And thcro is no difference

BOOK 11.] S1MILAU 1SS1AHCES. 493

the roots and brandies, except that the root is buried in the
earth, and the branches are exposed to the air and sun. Per if
one take a young and vigorous shoot, and bend it down to a
small portion of loose earth, although it be not fixed to the
ground, yet will it immediately produce a root, and not a branch.
And, vice versd, if earth be placed above, and so forced down
with a stone or any hard substance, as to confine the plant and
prevent its branching upwards, it will throw out branches into
the air downwards.

The gums of trees, and most rock gems, are similar instances ;
for both of them are exudations and iiltered juices, derived in
the former instance from trees, in the latter from stones ; the
brightness and clearness of both arising from a delicate and
accurate filtering. For nearly the same reason, the hair of
animals is less beautiful and vivid in its colour than the plumage
of most birds, because the juices are less delicately filtered
through the skin than through the quills.

The scrotum of males and matrix of females are also similar
instances ; so that the noble formation which constitutes the dif
ference of the sexes appears to differ only as to the one being
internal and the otlier external ; a greater degree of heat caus
ing the genitals to protrude in the male, whilst the heat of the
female being too weak to effect this, they are retained in
ternally.

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 ;b so that in the forma
tion of the universe, the motion of animals appears to be chiefly
effected by four joints or bendings.

The teeth of land animals, and the beaks of birds, are similar
instances, whence it is clear, that in all perfect animals there is
a determination of some hard substance towards the mouth.

Again, the resemblance and conformity of man to an inverted
p^ant is not absurd. For the head is the root of the nerves and
UTiimal faculties, and the seminal parts are the lowest, not in
cluding the extremities of the legs and arms. But in the plant,
the root (which resembles the head) is regularly placed in the
lowest, and the seeds in the highest part.c

Lastly, we must particularly recommend and suggest, that

b Is not this very hasty generalization? Do serpents move with
four folds only? Observe also the motion of centipedes and other iu-
sects.

c Shaw states another point of difference between the objects cited
in the text, — animals having- their roots within, while plants have
theirs without ; for their lacteals nearly correspond with the fibres oi
the roots in plants ; so that animals seem nourished within themselves
as plants are without. Ed.

494 WOVUM OR&ANUM. [feQOK It.

man's present industry in the investigation and compilation of
natural history be entirely changed, and directed to the reverse
of the present system. For it has hitherto been active and
curious in noting the variety of things, and explaining tho
accurate differences of animals, vegetables, and minerals, most
of which are the mere sport of nature, rather than of any rea
utility as concerns the sciences. Pursuits of this nature are
certainly agreeable, and sometimes of practical advantage, but
contribute little or nothing to the thorough investigation ol'
nature. Our labour must therefore be directed towards in
quiring into and observing resemblances and analogies, both in
the whole and its parts, for they unite nature, and lay the foun
dation of the sciences.

Here, however, a severe and rigorous caution must be observed,
that we only consider as similar and proportionate instances,
those which (as we first observed) point out physical resem-
blances ; that is, real and substantial resemblances, deeply
founded in nature, and not casual and superficial, much less
superstitious or curious ; such as those which are constantly put
forward by the writers on natural magic (the most idle of men,
and who are scarcely fit to be named in connection with such
serious matters as we now treat of), who, with much vanity and
folty, describe, and sometimes too, invent, unmeaning resem
blances and sympathies.

But leaving such to themselves, similar instances are not to
be neglected, in the greater portions of the world's conformation;
such as Africa and the Peruvian continent, which reaches to the
Straits of Magellan ; both of which possess a similar isthmus
and similar capes, a circumstance not to be attributed to mere
accident.

Again, the new and old world are both of them broad and
expanded towards the north, and narrow and pointed towards
the south.

Again, we have very remarkable similar instances in the in
tense cold, towards the middle regions (as it is termed) of tho
air, and the violent {ires which are often found to burst from
subterraneous spots, the similarity consisting in both being ends
and extremes ; the extreme of the nature of cold, for instance, is
towards the boundary of heaven, and that of the nature of heat
towards the centre of the earth, by a similar species of opposi
tion or rejection of the contrary nature.

Lastly, in the axioms of the sciences, there is a similarity of
instances worthy of observation. Thus the rhetorical trope
which is called surprise, is similar to that of music termed th*
declining of a cadence. Again, — the mathematical postulate,
that things which are equal to the same are equal to one another,
u» similar to the form of tke sylld ism in logic, which unitei

600K li-] SlKGTJLAil IKiJTAKCfifc 495

things agreeing in the middle term.d Lastly, a certain degree*
of sagacity in collecting and searching for physical points of
similarity, is very useful in many respects.6

XXVIII. In 'the seventh rank of prerogative instances, we
will place singular instances, which we are also wont to call
irregular or heteroclite (to borrow a term from the grammarians).
They are such as exhibit bodies in the concrete, of an apparently
extravagant and separate nature, agreeing but little with other
things of the same species. For, whilst the similar instances
resemble each other, those we now speak of are only like them
selves. Their use is much the same with that of clandestine in
stances : they bring out and unite nature, and discover genera or
common natures, which must afterwards be limited by real
differences. ]STor should we desist from inquiry, until the pro
perties and qualities of those things, which may be deemed
miracles, as it were, of nature, be reduced to, and comprehended
in, some form or certain law; so that all irregularity or sin
gularity may be found to depend on some common form ; and
the miracle only consists in accurate differences, degree, and
rare coincidence, not in the species itself. Man's meditation
proceeds no farther at present, than just to consider things of
this kind as the secrets and vast efforts of nature, without an
assignable cause, and, as it were, exceptions to general rules.

As examples of singular instances, we have the sun and moon
amongst the heavenly bodies; the magnet amongst minerals;
quicksilver amongst metals ; the elephant amongst quadrupeds ;
the venereal sensation amongst the different kinds of touch ; the

d Bacon falls into an error here in regarding the syllogism as some
thing distinct from the reasoning faculty, and only one of its forms.
It is not generally true that the syllogism is only a form of reasoning
by which we unite ideas which accord with the middle term. This
agreement is not even essential to accurate syllogisms ; when the rela
tion of the two things compared to the third is one of equality or
similitude, it of course follows that the two things compared may be
pronounced equal, or like to each other. But if the relation between
these terms exist in a different form, then it is not true that the two
extremes stand in the same relation to each other as to the middle
term. For instance, if A is double ot B, and B double of C, then A is
quadruple of c. But then the relation of A to C is different from that
of A to B and of B to C. £d.

* Comparative anatomy is full of analogies of this kind. Those be
tween natural and artificial productions are well worthy of attention,
and sometimes lead to important discoveries. By observing an analogy
of this kind between the plan used in hydraulic engines for preventing
the counter-current of a fluid, and a similar contrivance in the blood
vessels, ITarvev was led to the discovery of the circulation of tbt
blood. Ed.

KovtiM OIUUKUM. [BOOK II,

B'»cnt of sporting clogs amongst those of smell. The letter S,
too, is considered by the grammarians as sui generis, from iU
easily uniting with double or triple consonants, which no other
letter will. These instances are of great value, because they ex
cite and keep alive inquiry, and correct an understanding
depraved by habit and the common course of things.

XXIX. In the eighth rank of prerogative instances, we will
place deviating instances, such as the errors of nature, or
strange and monstrous objects, in which nature deviates anc
turns from her ordinary course. For the errors of nature differ
from singular instances, inasmuch as the latter are the miracle*
of species, the former of individuals. Their use is much the
same, for they rectify the understanding in opposition to habit,
and reveal common forms. For with regard to these, also, we
must not desist from inquiry, till we discern the cause of the
deviation. The cause does not, however, in such cases rise to a
regular form, but only to the latent process towards such a form.
For he who is acquainted with the paths of nature, will more
readily observe her deviations; and, vice versa, he who has learnt
her deviations, will be able more accurately to describe her
paths.

They differ agnin from singular instances, by being much
more apt for practice and the operative branch. For it would
be very difficult to generate new species, but less so to vary
known species, and thus produce many rare and unusual results.'
The passage from the miracles of nature to those of art is easy ;
for if nature be once seized in her variations, and the cause be
manifest, it will be easy to lead her by art to such deviation as
she was at first led to by chance ; and not only to that but
others, since deviations on the one side lead and open the way to
others in every direction. Of this we do not require any exam
ples, since they are so abundant. For a compilation, or par
ticular natural history, must be made of all monsters and
prodigious births of nature ; of everything, in short, which is
new, rare, and unusual in nature. This should be done with a
rigorous selection, so as to be worthy of credit. Those are most
to be suspected which depend upon superstition, as the prodigies
of Livy, and those perhaps, but little less, which are found in the
works of writers on. natural magic, or even alchymy, and the
like; for such men, as it were, are the very suitors and lovers
of fables ; but our instances should be derived from some grave
and credible history, and faithful narration.

XXX. In the ninth rank of prerogative instances, we will

f This is well illustrated in plants, for the gardener can pro luca
endless varieties of any known species, but can never produce a new
Bpeciea itself.

BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF POWER. 497

place bordering instances, which we are also wont to term parti«
cipants. They are such as exhibit those species oi bodies which
appear to be composed oi two species, or to be the rudiments
between the one and the other. They may well be classed
with the singular or heteroclite instances ; for in the whole sys
tem of things, they are rare and extraordinary. Yet from their
dignity, they must be treated of and classed separately, for they
point out admirably the order and constitution of things, and
suggest the causes of the number and quality of the more com
mon species in the universe, leading the understanding from that
which is, to that which is possible.

We have examples of them in moss, which is something be
tween putrescence and a plant ;8 in some comets, which hold
a place between stars and ignited meteors ; in flying fishes,
between fishes and birds ; and in bats, between birds and
quadrupeds.11 Again,

Simia quam similis turpissima beatia nobis.

We have also biformod foetus, mingled species, and the like.

XXXI. In the tenth rank of prerogative instances, we will
place the instances of power, or the fasces (to borrow a term from
the insignia of empire), which we are also wont to call the wit
or hands of man. These are such works as are most noble and
perfect, and, as it were, the masterpieces in every art. For since
our principal object is to make nature subservient to the state
and wants of man, it becomes us well to note and enumerate the
works, which have long since been in the power of man, espe
cially those which are most polished and perfect : because the
passage from these to new and hitherto undiscovered works, is
more easy and feasible. For if any one, after an attentive con
templation of such works as are extant, be willing to push for
ward in his design with alacrity and vigour, he will undoubtedly
either advance them, or turn them to something within their
immediate reach, or even apply and transfer them to some more
noble purpose.

Nor is this all : for as the understanding is elevated and raised
by rare and unusual works of nature, to investigate and discover
the forms which include them also, so is the same effect fre
quently produced by the excellent and wonderful works of art ;
and even to a greater degree, because the mode of effecting and
constructing the miracles of art is generally plain, whilst that of

* The discoveries of Tournefort have placed moss in the class of plants.
The fish alluded to below are to be found only in the tropics. Ed.

11 There is, however, no real approximation to birds in either the
flying-fish or bat, any more than a man approximates to a fish because
he can swim. The wings oi the flying-fish and bat are mere expansio&i
<ui skin, bearing no resemblance whatever to those oi birds.

498 NOVUM OROANUM. [BOOK n.

effecting the miracles of nature is more obscure. Great care,
however, must be taken, that they do not depress the under
standing, and fix it, as it were, to earth.

For there is some danger, lest the understanding should bo
astonished and chained down, and as it were bewitched, by such
works of art, as appear to be the very summit and pinnacle of
human industry, so as not to become familiar with them, but
rather to suppose that nothing of the kind can be accomplished,
unless the same means be employed, -with perhaps a little more
diligence, and more accurate preparation.

Now, on the contrary, it may be stated as a fact, that the ways
and means hitherto discovered and observed, of effecting any
matter or work, arc for the most part of little value, and that all
really efficient power depends, and is really to be deduced from
the sources of forms, none of which have yet been discovered.

Thus (as we have before observed), had any one meditated on
balistie machines, and battering rams, as they were iiscd by the
ancients, whatever application lie might have exerted, and though
lie might have consumed a whole life in the pursuit, yet would
he never have hit upon the invention of flaming engines, acting
by means of gunpowder; nor would any person, who had made
\\oollcn manufactories and cotton the subject of his observation
and reflection, have ever discovered thereby the nature of the
silkworm or of silk.

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; whilst nothing imitates or anti-
pates chance (which is wont to act at intervals of ages) but the
invention of forms.

There is no necessity for adducing any particular examples of
these instances, since they arc abundant. The plan to be pursued
U this : all the mechanical, and even the liberal arts (as far as
i hey arc practical), should be visited and thoroughly examined,
;:nd thence there should be formed a compilation or particular
history of the great masterpieces, or most finished works in each,
:.s well as of the mode of carrying them into effect.

Nor do we confine the diligence to be used in such a compila-
1 ion to the leading works and secrets only of every art, and such
::3 excite wonder ; for wonder is engendered by rarity, since that
which is rare, although it be compounded of ordinary natures,
always begets wonder.

On the contrary, that which is really wonderful, from some
specific difference distinguishing it from other species, is carelessly
observed, if it be but familiar. Yet the singular instances of art
Kiiould be observed no less than those of nature, which we have
before spoken of: and as in the latter we have classed the sun,
•the moon, the maguct, and the like, all of them most familiar to

BOOK II.] SINGULAR INSTANCES. 499

us, but yet in their nature singular, so should we proceed with
the singular instances of art.

.For example : paper, a very common substance, is a singular
instance of art; for if you consider the subject attentively, you
will find that artificial substances are either woven by straight
and transverse lines, as silk, woollen, or linen cloth, and the like;
or coagulated from concrete juices, such as brick, earthenware,
glass, enamel, porcelain, and the like, which admit of a polish if
they be compact, but if not, become hard without being polished;
oil which latter substances are brittle, and not adherent or tena
cious. On the contrary, paper is a tenacious substance, which
can be cut and torn, BO as to resemble and almost rival the skin
of any animal, or the leaf of vegetables, and the like works of
nature ; being neither brittle like glass, nor woven like cloth, but
having fibres and not distinct threads, just as natural substances,
BO that scarcely anything similar can be found amongst artificial
substances, and it is absolutely singular. And in artificial works
we should certainly prefer those which approach the nearest to
an imitation of nature, or, on the other hand, powerfully govern
and change her course.

Again, in these instances which we term the wit and hands ot
man, charms and conjuring should not be altogether despised,
for although mere amusements, and of little use, yet they may
aflbrd considerable information.

Lastly, superstition and magic (in its common acceptation)
*rc not to be entirely omitted ; for although they be overwhelmed
by a mass of lies and fables, yet some investigation should be
made, to see if there be really any latent natural operation in
them ; as in fascination, and the fortifying of the imagination,
the sympathy of distant objects, the transmission of impressions
from spirit to spirit no less than from body to body, and the like.

XXXII. From the foregoing remarks, it is clear that the five
last species of instances (the similar, singular, deviating, and bor
dering instances, and those of power) should not be reserved for
the investigation of any given nature, as the preceding and many
of the succeeding instances must, but a collection of them should
be made at once, in the style of a particular history, so that they
may arrange the matter which enters the understanding, and
correct its depraved habit, for it is necessarily imbued, corrupted,
perverted, and distorted by daily and habitual impressions.

They are to be used, therefore, as a preparative, for the pur
pose of rectifying and purifying the understanding; for whatever
withdraws it from habit, levels and planes down its surface fo:
the reception of the dry and pure light of true notions.

These instances, moreover, level and prepare the way for tb*
operative branch, as we will mention in its proper p^ce when
ipeaking of the practical deductions.

2*2

600 KOTUM ORGANUM, [BOOK 1L

XXXIII. In the eleventh rank of prerogative instances we
will place accompanying and hostile instances. These are such
as exhibit any body or concrete, where the required nature is
constantly found, as an inseparable companion, or, on the con
trary, where the required nature is constantly avoided, and ex
cluded from attendance, as an enemy. From these instances
may be formed certain and universal propositions, either affirma
tive or negative; the subject of which will be the concrete
body, and the predicate the required nature. For particular
propositions are by no means fixed, when the required nature is
found to fluctuate and change in the concrete, either approaching
and acquired, or receding and laid aside. Hence particular pro
positions have no great prerogative, except in the case of migra
tion, of which we have spoken above. Yet such particular Dro-
positions are of great use, when compared with the universal, as
will be mentioned in its proper place. Nor do we require ab
solute affirmation or negation, even in universal propositions, for
if the exceptions be singular or rare, it is sufficient for our pur
pose.

The use of accompanying instances is to narrow the affirmative
of form ; for as it is narrowed by the migrating instances, where
the form must necessarily be something communicated or de
stroyed by the act of migration, so it is narrowed by accompany
ing instances, where the form must necessarily be something which
enters into the concretion of the body, or, on the contrary, is
repugnant to it ; and one who is well acquainted with the con
stitution or formation of the body, will not be far from bringing
to light the form of the required nature.

For example : let the required nature be heat. Flame is an
accompanying instance ; for in water, air, stone, metal, and many
other substances, heat is variable, and can approach or retire ;
but all flame is hot, so that heat al ways accompanies the concre
tion of flame. \Ve have no hostile instance of heat ; for the
senses are unacquainted with the interior of the earth, and there
is no concretion of any known body which is not susceptible of
heat.

Again, let solidity be the required nature. Air is an hos
tile instance: for metals may be liquid or solid, so may glass;
even water may become solid by congelation, but air cannot
become solid or lose its fluidity.

With regard to these instances of fixed propositions, there are
two points to be observed, which are of importance. First, that
if there be no universal affirmative or negative, it be carefully
noted as not existing. Thus, in heat, we have observed that there
exists no universal negative, in such substances, at least, as have
come to our knowledge. Again, if the required nature be eter
nity or ineomiptibilitv, we have po universal affirmative within

BOOK 11.] SttflJtfNCTlVE

our sphere, for ihese qualities cannot be predicated of any bodies
below the heavens, or above the interior of the earth. Secondly,
to our general propositions as to any concrete, whether affirmative
or negative, we should subjoin the concretes which appear to
approach, nearest to the non-existing substances ; such, as the
most gentle or least-burning flames in heat, or gold in incor
ruptibility, since it approaches nearest to it. For they all serve
to show the limit of existence and non-existence, and circumscribe
forms, so that they cannot wander beyond the conditions of
matter.

XXXIV. In the twelfth rank of prerogative instances, we
will class those subjunctive instances, of which we spoke in the
last aphorism, and which we are also wont to call instances of
extremity or limits ; for they are not only serviceable when sub
joined to fixed propositions, but also of themselves and from their
own nature. They indicate with sufficient precision the real
divisions of nature, and measures oi things, and the " how far "
nature effects or allows of anything, and her passage thence to
something else. Such are gold in weight, iron in hardness, the
whale in the size of animals, the dog in smell, the flame of gun
powder in rapid expansion, and others of a like nature. Nor are
we to pass over the extremes in defect, as well as in abundance,
as spirits of wine in weight, the touchstone in softness, the worms
upon the skin in the size of animals, and the like.

XXXV. In the thirteenth rank of prerogative instances, we
will place those of alliance or union. They are such as mingle
and unite natures held to be heterogeneous, and observed and
marked as such in received classifications.

These instances show that the operation and effect, which is
considered peculiar to some one of such heterogeneous natures,
may also be attributed to another nature styled heterogeneous,
so as to prove that the difference of the natures is not real nor
essential, but a mere modification of a common nature. They
are very serviceable, therefore, in elevating and carrying on the
mind, from differences to genera, and in removing those phan
toms and images of things, which meet it in disguise in concrete
substances.

For example : let the required nature be heat. The classi
fication of heat into three kinds, that of the celestial bodies, that
of animals, and that of fire, appears to be settled and admitted ;
and these kinds of heat, especially one of them compared with
the other two, are supposed to be different, and clearly hetero
geneous in their essence and species, or specific nature, since the
heat of the heavenly bodies and of animals generates and che
rishes, whilst that of fire corrupts and destroys. We have an
instance of alliance, then, in a very common experiment, that of
a vine branch admitted into a building where there is a constant

502 KOVUH ORGANUH. [HOOK It

tire, by which the grapes ripen a whole month sooner than in
Hie air; BO that fruit upon the tree can be ripened by fire,
although this appear the peculiar effect of the sun. From this
beginning, therefore, the understanding rejects all essential dif
ference, and easily ascends to the investigation of the real dif
ferences between the heat of the sun and that of fire, by which
their operation is rendered dissimilar, although they partake of
a common nature.

These differences will be found to be four in number. 1. The
heat of the sun is much milder and gentler in degree than that of
fire. 2. It is much more moist in quality, especially as it is
transmitted to us through the air. 3. Which is the chief point,
it is very unequal, advancing and increased at one time, retiring
and diminished at another, which mainly contributes to the
generation of bodies. For Aristotle rightly asserted, that the
principal cause of generation and corruption on the surface of
the earth, was the oblique path of the sun in the zodiac, whence
its heat becomes very unequal, partly from the alternation of
night and day, partly from the succession of summer and winter.
Yet must he immediately corrupt and pervert his discovery, by
dictating to nature according to his habit, and dogmatically
assigning the cause of generation to the approach of the sun, and
that of corruption to its retreat; whilst, in fact, each circum
stance indifferently and not respectively contributes both to
generation and corruption ; for unequal heat tends to generate
and corrupt, as equable heat does to preserve. 4. The fourth
difference between the heat of the sun and lire is of great conse
quence ; namely, that the sun, gradually, and for a length of
time, insinuates its effects, whilst those of fire (urged by the
impatience of man) are brought to a termination in a shorter
space of time. But if any one were to pay attention to the
tempering of fire, and rcdvicing it to a more moderate and gentle
degree (which may be done in various ways), and then were to
sprinkle and mix a degree of humidity with it; and, above all,
were to imitate the sun in its inequality; and lastly, were patiently
to suffer some delay (not such, however, as is proportioned to
the effects of the sun, but more than men usually admit of in
those of fire), he would soon banish the notion of any difference,
and would attempt, or equal, or perhaps sometimes surpass the
effect of the sun, by the heat of fire. A like instance of alliance
is that of reviving butterflies, benumbed and nearly dead from
cold, by the gentle warmth of fire ; so that fire is no less able to
revive animals than to ripen vegetables. We may also mention
the celebrated invention of Fracastorius, of applying a pan con
siderably heated to the head in desperate cases of apoplexy,
which clearly expands the animal spirits, when compressed and
almost extinguished by the humours and obstructions of the

BOOK !L] INSTANCES OP ALLIANCE. 503

brain, and excites them to .action, as the fire would operate on
water or air, and in the result produces life. Eggs arc sometimes
hatched by the heat of fire, an exact imitation of animal heat ;
and there arc many instances of the like nature, so that no one
can doubt that the heat of fire, in many cases, can be modified
till it resemble that of the heavenly bodies and of animals.

Again, let the required natures be motion and rest. There
appears to be a settled classification, grounded on the deepest
philosophy, that natural bodies either revolve, move in a straight
line, or stand still and rest. For there is either motion without
limit, or continuance within a certain limit, or a translation to
wards a certain limit. The eternal motion of revolution appears
peculiar to the heavenly bodies, rest to this our globe, and the
other bodies (heavy and light, as they arc termed, that is to say,
placed out of their natural position) arc borne in a straight line
to masses or aggregates which resemble them, the light towards
the heaven, the heavy towards the earth ; aud all this is very
fine language.

But we have an instance of alliance in low comets, which
revolve, though far below the heavens; and the fiction of Aristotle,
of the comet being fixed to, or necessarily following some star,
lias been long since exploded; not only because it is improbable
in itself, but from the evident fact of the discursive and irregular
motion of comets through various parts of the heavens.'

Another instance of alliance is that of the motion of air,
which appears to revolve from east to west within the tropics,
where the circles of revolution are the greatest.

The flow and ebb of the sea would perhaps be another instance,
if the water were once found to have a motion of revolution,
though slow and hardly perceptible, from east to west, subject,
however, to a reaction twice a day. If this be so, it is clear that
the motion of revolution is not confined to the celestial bodies,
but is shared, also, by air and water.

^gain, — the supposed peculiar disposition of light bodies to rise
is rather shaken; and here we may find an instance of alliance in
a water bubble. For if air be placed under water, it rises rapidly
towards the surface by that striking motion (as Democritus terms
it) with which the descending water strikes the air and raises it,
not by any struggle or effort of the air itself; and when it has
reached tlio surface of the water, it is prevented from ascending

1 Seneca was a sounder astronomer than Bacon. lie ridiculed the
Mea of the motion of any heavenly bodies being irregular, and predicted
that the day would come, when the laws which guided the revolution
oi these bodies would be proved to be identical with those which con
trolled the motions of th? planets. The anticipation watt real iz.- 1 b)

504 OHGANUM. [ROOK 1L

any further, by the slight resistance it meets with in the water,
which docs not allow an immediate separation of its parts, so
that the tendency oi the air to rise must be very slight.

Again, let the required nature be weight. It is certainly a
received, classification, that dense and solid bodies are borne to
wards the centre of the earth, and rare and light bodies to the
circumference of the heavens, as their appropriate places. As
far as relates to places (though these things have much weight in
the schools), the notion of there being any determinate place is
absurd and puerile. Philosophers trifle, therefore, when they
tell you, that if the earth were perforated, heavy bodies would
stop on their arrival at the centre. This centre would indeed be
an efficacious nothing, or mathematical point, could it affect
bodies or be sought by them, for a body is not acted upon except
by a body.k In fact, this tendency to ascend and descend ia
either in the conformation of the moving br-dy, or in its harmony
and sympathy with another body. But if any dense and solid
body be found, which does not, however, tend towards the earth,
the classification is at an end. Now, if we allow of Gilbert's
opinion, that the magnetic power of the earth, in attracting
heavy bodies, is not extended beyond the limit of its peculiar
virtue (which operates always at a fixed distance and no further),1
and this be proved by some instance, such an instance will be
one of alliance in our present subject. The nearest approach to
it is that of waterspouts, frequently seen by persons navigating
the Atlantic towards either of the Indies. For the force and
mass of the water suddenly effused by waterspouts, appears to
be so considerable, that the water must have been collected pre
viously, and have remained fixed where it was formed, until it
was afterwards forced down by some violent cause, rather than
made to fall by the natural motion of gravity -• so that it may be
conjectured that a dense and compact mass, at a great distance
from the earth, may be suspended as the earth itself is. and would
not fall, unless forced down. We do not, however, affirm this as

k But see Bacon's own corollary at the end oi the Instances of
Divorce, Aphorism xxxvii. If Bacon's remark be accepted, the censure
will fall upon Newton and the system so generally received at the
present day. It is, however, unjust, as the centre of which Newton so
often speaks is not a point with an active inherent lorce. but only the
result of all the particular and reciprocal attractions o. the different
parts oi the planet acting upon one spot. ' It ia evident, that ii all these
forces were united in this centre, that the sum would be equal to all
their partial effects. Ed.

1 Since Newton's discovery of the law of gravitation, we find that
the attractive force ot the earth must extend to an infinite distance.
Bacon himself alludes to the operation of this attractive fore* at great
distances in the Instances of the Rod, Aphorism xlv.

BOOK It] INSTANCES OP THE CROSS. 503

certain. In the mean ^.vhile, both in this respect and many
others, it will readily be seen how deiicient we are in natural
history, since we are forced to havre recourse to suppositions for
examples, instead of ascertained instances.

Again, let the required nature be the discursive power of the
mind. The classification of human reason and animal instinct
appears to be perfectly correct. Yet there are some instances ot
the actions ot brutes which seem to show that they, too, can
syllogise. Thus it is related, that a crow, which had nearly
perished from thirst in a great drought, saw some water in the
hollow trunk o( a tree, but as it was too narrow for him to get
into it, he continued to throw in pebbles, which made the water
rise till he could drink; and it afterwards became a proverb.

Again, let the required nature be vision. The classification
appears real and certain, which considers light as that which ia
originally visible, and confers the power of seeing ; and colour,
as being secondarily visible, and not capable oi being seen with
out light, so as to appear a mere image or modification of light.
Yet there are instances oi alliance in each respect ; as in snow
when in great quantities, and in the flame of sulphur ; the one
being a colour originally and in itself light, the other a light
Teririnir towards colour.1"

XXXVI. In the fourteenth rank of prerogative instances, we
will place the instances of the cross, borrowing oiir metaphor
from the crosses erected where two roads meet, to point out the
different directions. We are wont also to call them decisive and
judicial instances, and in some cases instances of the oracle and
of command. Their nature is as follows. When in investigating
any nature the understanding is. at it were, balanced, and un
certain to which of two or more natures the cause ot the required
nature should be assigned, on account of the frequent and usual
concurrence of several natures, the instances of the cross sho\v
that (lie union ot one nature with the required nature is firm
and indissoluble, whilst that of the other is unsteady and
separable ; by which means the question is decided, and the
first is received as the cause, whilst the other is dismissed and
rejected. Such instances, therefore, afford great light, and are
of great weight, so that the course of interpretation sometimes
terminates, and is completed in them. Sometimes, however,
ihey are found amongst the instances already observed, but
they are generally new, being expressly and purposely sought
for and applied, and brought to light only by attentive and
active diligence.

For example : let the required nature be the flow and ebb of
the sea, which is repeated twice a day, at intervals of six hours

* Snow reflects light, but is not a source of light.

506 KOVUil OHOANUlf. HOOK U

bct\vocn each advance and retreat, with some little difference,
agreeing with the motion of the moon. We have here the fol
lowing cross-ways.

This motion must be occasioned cither by the advancing and
the retiring of the sea, like water shaken in a basin, which leaves
one side while it washes the other ; or by the rising of the sea
from the bottom, and its again, subsiding, like boiling water.
But a doubt arises, to which of these causes we should assign
the flow and ebb. If the first assertion be admitted, it follows,
that when there is a flood on one side, there must at the samo
time be an ebb on another, and the question therefore is reduced
to this. Now Acosta, and some others, after a diligent inquiry,
have observed that the flood tide takes place on the coast of
Florida, and the opposite coasts of Spain and Africa, at the
same time, as docs nlso the ebb ; and that there is not, on the
contrary, a flood tide at Florida when there is an ebb on the
coasts of Spain and Africa. Yet if one consider the subject
attentively, this docs not prove the necessity of a rising motion,
nor refute the notion of a progressive motion. For the motion
may be progressive, and yet inundate the opposite shores of a
channel at the same time ; as if the waters be forced and driven
together from some other quarter, for instance, which takes place
in rivers, for they flow ancl ebb towards each bank at the same
time, yet their motion is clearly progressive, being that of the
waters from the sea entering their mouths. So it may happen,
that the waters coming in a vast body from the eastern Indian
Ocean are driven together, and forced into the channel of the
Atlantic, and therefore inundate both coasts at once. We must
inquire, therefore, if there be any other channel by which the
waters can at the same time sink and ebb: and the Southern
Ocean at once suggests itself, which is not less than the Atlantic,
but rather broader and more extensive than is requisite for this
effect.

"VVc at length arrive, then, at an instance of the cross, which
is this. If it be positively discovered, that when the flood sets
in towards the opposite coasts of Florida and Spain in the
Atlantic, there is at the same time a flood tide on the coasts of
Peru and the back part of China, in the Southern Ocean, then
assuredly, from this decisive instance, we must reject the asser
tion, that the flood and ebb of the sea, about which we inquire,
takes place by progressive motion ; for no other sea or place is
left where there can be an ebb. But this may most easily be
learnt, by inquiring of the inhabitants of Panama and Lima
(where the two oceans are separated by a narrow isthmus),
whether the flood and ebb takes place on the opposite sides of
the isthmus at the same time, or the reverse. This decision or
rejection appears certain, if it be granted that the earth is fixed;

BOOK II.] IKSTAKCtS OF THE CHOSS. 507

but if the earth revolves, it may perhaps happen, that from the un
equal revolution (as regards velocity) of the earth and the waters
of the sea, there may be a violent forcing of the waters into a
mass, forming the flood, and a subsequent relaxation of them
(when they can no longer bear the accumulation), forming tho
ebb. A separate inquiry must be made into this. Even with
this hypothesis, however, it remains equally true, that there
must be an ebb somewhere, at the same time that there is a flood
in another quarter.

Again, let the required nature be the latter of the two motions
we have supposed ; namely, that of a rising and subsiding motion,
if it should happen that" upon diligent examination the pro
gressive motion be rejected. We have, then, three ways before
us, with regard to this nature. The motion, by which tho
waters raise themselves, and again fall back, in the floods and
ebbs, without the addition of any other water rolled towards
them, must take place in one of the three following ways.
Either the supply of water emanates from the interior of the
earth, and returns back again ; or there is really no greater
quantity of water, but the same water (without any augmentation
of its quantity) is extended or rarefied, so as to occupy a greater
apace and dimension, and again contracts itself; or there is
neither an additional supply nor any extension, but the same
waters (with regard to quantity, density, or rarity) raise them
selves and fall from sympathy, by some magnetic power attract
ing and calling them up, as it were, from above. Let us 1 lion
(passing over the first two motions) reduce the investigation to
the last, and inquire if there be any such elevation of the water
by sympathy or a magnetic force ; and it is evident, in the first
place, that the whole mass of water being placed in the trench
or cavity of the sea, cannot be raised at once, because there
would not be enough to cover the bottom, so that if there be
any tendency of this kind in the water to raise itself, yet it
would be interrupted and checked by the cohesion of things, or
(as the common expression is) that there may be no vacuum.
The water, therefore, must lyse on one side, and for that reason
be diminished and ebb on another. But it will again necessarily
follow that the magnetic power not being able to operate on the
whole, operates most intensely on the centre, so as to raise the
waters there, which, when thus raised successively, desert and
abandon the sides."

We at length arrive, then, at an instance of the cross, which is
this: if it be found, that during the ebb the surface of the
waters at sea is more curved and round, from the waters rising
in the middle, and sinking at the sides or coast, and if, during a

0 Bacon's sagacity here foreshadows Newton's theory of the tide*

508 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOR IL

flood, it be more even and level, from the waters returning to
their former position, then assuredly, by this decisive instance,
the raising of them by a magnetic force can be admitted ; if
otherwise, it must be entirely rejected. It is not difficult to make
the experiment (by sounding in straits), whether the sea be deeper
towards the middle in ebbs, than in floods. But it must be
observed, if this be the case, that (contrary to common opinion)
the waters rise in ebbs, and only return to their former position
in floods, so as to bathe and inundate the coast.

Again, let the required nature be the spontaneous motion of
revolution, and particularly, whether the diurnal motion, by
which the sun and stars appear to us to rise and set, be a real
motion of revolution in the heavenly bodies, or only apparent in
them, and real in tho earth. There may be an instance of the
cross of the following nature. If there be discovered any
motion in the ocean from east to west, though very languid and
weak, and if the same motion be discovered rather more swift
in the air (particularly within the tropics, where it is more per
ceptible from the circles being greater). If it be discovered also
in the low comets, and be already quick and powerful in them ;
if it be found also in the planets, but so tempered and regulated
as to be slower in those nearest the earth, and quicker in those
at the greatest distance, being quickest of all in the heavens,
then the diurnal motion should certainly be considered as real
in the heavens, and that of the earth must be rejected ; for
it will be evident that the motion from east to west is part
of the system of the world and universal ; since it is most rapid
in the height of the heavens, and gradually grows weaker, till
it stops and is extinguished in rest at the earth.

Again, let the required nature be that other motion of revolu
tion, so celebrated amongst astronomers, which is contrary to
the diurnal, namely, from west to east, — and which the ancient
astronomers assign to the planets, and even to the starry sphere,
but Copernicus and his followers to the earth also, — and let it be
examined whether any such motion be found in nature, or it be
rather a fiction and hypothesis for abridging and facilitating cal
culation, and for promoting that fine notion of effecting the
heavenly motions by perfect circles ; for there is nothing which
proves such a motion in heavenly objects to be true and real,
either in a planet's not returning in its diurnal motion to the
same point of the starry sphere, or in the pole of the zodiac
being different from that of the world, which two circumstances
have occasioned this notion. For the first phenomenon is well
accounted for by the spheres overtaking or falling behind each
other, and the second by spiral lines; so that the inaccuracy of
the return and declination to the tropics may be rather modifica
tions of the one diurnal motion than contrary motion*, or about

BOOK IL] INSTANCES OF THE CROSS. 509

different poles. And it is most certain, if we consider ourselvei
for a moment as part of the vulgar (setting aside the fictions of
astronomers and the school, who are wont undeservedly to at
tack the senses in many respects, and to affect obscurity), that
the apparent motion is such as we have said, a model of which
we have sometimes caused to be represented by wires in a sort
of a machine.

We may take the following instances of the cross upon this
subject. If it be found in any history worthy ot credit, that
there has existed any comet, high or low, which has not revolved
in manifest harmony (however irregularly) with the diurnal mo.
tion, then we may decide so far as to allow such a motion to be
possible in nature. But if nothing of the sort be found, it must be
suspected, and recourse must be had to other instances of the cross.

Again, let the required nature be weight or gravity. Heavv
and ponderous bodies must, either of their own nature, tend
towards the centre of the earth by their peculiar formation, or
must be attracted and hurried by the corporeal mass of the
earth itself, as being an assemblage of similar bodies, and be
drawn to it by sympathy. But it the latter be the cause, it
follows that the nearer bodies approach to the earth, the more
powerfully and rapidly they must be borne towards it, and the
further they are distant, the more faintly and slowly (as is the
case in magnetic attractions), and that this must happen within
a given distance; so that if they be separated at such a distance
from the earth that the power of the earth cannot act upon
them, they will remain suspended like the earth, and not fall
at all.0

The following instance of the cross may be adopted. Take a
clock moved by leaden weights,p and another by a spring, and

0 The error in the text arose from Bacon's impression that the earth
was immoveable. It is evident, since gravitation acts at an infinite
distance, that no such point could be found ; and even supposing the
impossible point of equilibrium discovered, the body could not maintain
its position an instant, but would be hurried, at the first movement oi
the heavenly bodies, in the direction of the dominant gravitating
power. Ed.

P Ely clocks are referred to in the text, not pendulum clocks, which
were not known in England till 1G62. The former, though clumsy and
rude in their construction, still embodied sound mechanical principles.
The comparison ti the effect of a spring with that of a weight in pro»
ducing certain motions in certain times on altitudes and in mines, hab
recently been tried by Professors Airy and Whewell in Dalcoath mine,
by means of a pendulum, which is only a weight moved by gravity,
and a chronometer balance moved and regulated by a spring. In hia
thirty-seventh Aphorism, Bacon also speaks of gravity as an incorpore&i
power, acting at a distance, and requiring time for its transmission \

510 NOVUM OHGANUM. [BOOK 1L

let them be set well together, so that one be neither quicker nor
slower than the other; then let the clock moved by weights be
placed on the top of a very high church, and the other be kept
below, and let it be well observed, if the former move slower
than it did, from the diminished power of the weights. Let the
same experiment be made at the bottom of mines worked to a
considerable depth, in order to see whether the clock move moro
quickly from the increased power of the weights. But if this
power be found to diminish at a height, and to increase in sub
terraneous places, the attraction of the corporeal mass of the
earth may be taken as the cause of weight.

Again, let the required nature be the polarity of the steel
needle when touched with the magnet. AVc have these two ways
with regard to this nature : — Either the touch of the magnet
must communicate polarity to the steel towards the north and
south, or else it may only excite and prepare it, whilst the actual
motion is occasioned by the presence of the earth, which Gilbert
considers to be the case, and endeavours to prove with so much
labour. The particulars he has inquired into with such inge
nious zeal amount to this: — 1. An iron bolt placed for a long
time towards the north and south acquires polarity from this
habit, without the touch of the magnet, as if the earth itself
operating but weakly from its distance (for the surface or outer

a consideration which occurred .it a later period to Laplace in one oi
his most delicate investigations.

Crucial instances, .as Herschel remarks, afford the readiest and
securest means of eliminating extraneous causes, and deciding between
the claims oi rival hypotheses ; especially when these, running parallel to
each other, in the explanation of great classes of phenomena, at length
come to be placed at issue upon a single fact. A curious example is
given by M. Fresnel, as decisive in his mind of the question between
the two great theories on the nature of light, which, since the time of
Newton and Huyghens have, divided philosophers. When two very
clean glasses are laid one on the other, if they be not perfectly flat,
but one or both, in an almost imperceptible degree, convex or prominent,
beautiful and vivid colours will be seen between them ; and if these be
viewed through a red glass, their appearance will be that of alternate
dark and bright stripes. These stripes are iormed between the two
surfaces in apparent contact, and being applicable on both theories, are
appealed to by their respective supporters as strong confirmatory facts ;
but there is a difference in one circumstance, according as one or other
theory is employed to explain them. In the case of the Huyghenian
theory, the intervals between the bright stripes ought to appear abso
lutely black, when a prism is used for the upper glass, in the other half
bright. This curious case of difference was tried, as soon as the opposing
consequences of the two theories were noted by M. Fresnel, and the
result is stated by him to be decisive in favour of that theory which.
rr.akcs light to conoist in the vibrations of an elastic medium. £d.

BOOK II. j INSTANCES OF THE CROSS. oil

crust of the earth docs not, in his opinion, possess the magnetic
power), yet, by long continued motion, could suppl v the place of the
magnet, excite the iron, and convert and change it when excited.
2. Iron, at a red or white heat, when quenched in a direction
parallel to the north and south, also acquires polarity without
the touch of the magnet, as if the parts of iron being put in
motion by ignition, and afterwards recovering themselves, were,
tit the moment of being quenched, more susceptible and sensitive
of the power emanating from the earth, than at other times, and
therefore as it were excited. But these points, though well ob
served, do not completely prove his assertion.

An instance of the cross on this point might be as follows :
Let a small magnetic globe be taken, and its poles marked, and
placed towards the cast and west, not towards the north and
Bouth, and let it continue thus. Then let an untouched needle
bo placed over it, and Buffered to remain so for six or seven days.
Now, the needle (for this is not disputed), whilst it remains over
the magnet, will leave the poles of the \\orld and turn to those
of the magnet, and therefore, as long as it remains in the above
position, will turn to the east and west. But if the needle, when
removed from the magnet and placed upon a pivot, be found
immediately to turn to the north and south, or even by degrees
to return thither, then the presence of the earth must be consi
dered as the cause, but if it remains turned as at first, towards
the cast and west, or lose its polarity, then that cause must be
suspected, and farther inquiry made.

Again, let the required nature be the corporeal substance of
the moon, whether it be rare, fiery, and aerial (as most of the
ancient philosophers have thought), or solid and dense (as Gil
bert and many of the moderns, « ith some of the ancients, hold).1*
The reasons for this latter opinion arc grounded chieily upon
this, that the moon reflects the sun's rays, and that light does
not appear capable of being reflected except by solids. The
instances of the cross will therefore (if any) be such ns to ex
hibit reflection by a rare body, such as flame, if it be but sufli-
ciently dense. Isfow, certainly, one of the reasons of twilight is
the reflection' of the rays of the sun by the upper part of the
atmosphere. We sec the sun's rays also reflected on fine even
ings by streaks of moist clouds, with a splendour not less, but

* Bacon plainly, from this passage, was inclined to believe that the
moon, like the comets, was nothing more than illuminated vapour. The
Newtonian law, however, has not only established its solidity, but its
density and weight. A sufficient proof of the former is afforded by
the Attraction of the sea, and the moon's motion round the eaith. Ed.

r Rather the refraction, the sky or air, however, reflect* the blj«
rays of light.

512 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II.

perhaps more bright and glorious than that reflected from the
body of the mooii, and yet it is not clear that those clouds have
formed into a dense body of water. We see, also, that the dark
air behind the windows at night reflects the light of a candle in
the same manner as a dense body would do." The experiment
should also be made of causing the sun's rays to fall through a
hole upon some dark and bluish flame. The unconfined rays ot
the sun when falling on faint flames, do certainly appear to
deaden them, and render them more like white smoke than
flames. These are the only instances which occur at present of
the nature of those of the cross, and better perhaps can be found.
But it must always be observed that reflection is not to be ex
pected from flame, unless it be of some depth, for otherwise it
becomes nearly transparent. This at least may be considered
certain, that light is always either received ana transmitted or
reflected by an even surface.

Again, let the required nature be the motion of projectiles
(such as darts, arrows, and balls) through the air. The school,
in its usual manner, treats this very carelessly, considering it
enough to distinguish it by the name of violent motion, from
that which they term natural, and as far as regards the first
percussion or impulse, satislies itself by its axiom, that two
bodies cannot exist in one place, or there would be a penetration
of dimensions. "With regard to this nature we have these two
cross-ways : — The motion must arise either from the air carrying
the projected body, and collecting behind it, like a stream behind
boats, or the wind behind straws ; or from the parts of the body
itself not supporting the impression, but pushing themselves
forward in succession to ease it. Fracastorius, and nearly all those
who have entered into any refined inquiry upon the subject,
adopt the first. Nor can it be doubted that the air has some
effect, yet the other motion is without doubt real, as is clear
from a vast number of experiments. Amongst others we may
take this instance of the cross, namely, that a thin plate or wire
of iron rather stiff, or even a reed or pen split in two, when
drawn up and bent between the finger and thumb, will leap for
ward ; for it is clear that this cannot be attributed to the air'g
being collected behind the body, because the source of motion ia
in the centre of the plate or pen, and not in its extremities.

Again, let the required nature be the rapid and powerful
motion of the explosion of gunpowder, by which such vast

• The polished surface of the glass causes the reflection in this case,
and not the air ; and a hat or other black surface, put behind the win
dow in the day-time, will enable the glass to reflect distinctly for the
game reason, namely, that the reflected rays are not mixed rm't cou-
fos°d "w;th those transmitted from the other side ot the window.

BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF THE CROSS. 513

masses are upheaved, and such weights discharged as we observe
in large mines and mortars, there are two cross-ways before us
with regard to this nature. This motion is excited either by the
mere effort of the body expanding itself when inflamed, or by
the assisting effort of the crude spirit, which escapes rapidly
from fire, and bursts violently from the surrounding flame as
from a prison. The school, however, and common opinion only
vonsider the first effort ; for men think that they are great phi
losophers when they assert that flame, from the form of tho
element, is endowed with a kind of necessity of occupying a
greater space than the same body had occupied when in the
form 01' powder, and that thence proceeds the motion in ques
tion. In the mean time they do not observe, that although this
may be true, on the supposition of flame being generated, yet
the generation may be impeded by a weight of sufficient force to
compress and suffocate it, so that no such necessity exists as
they assert. They are right, indeed, in imagining that the ex
pansion and the consequent emission or removal or the opposing
nody, is necessary if flame be once generated, but such a neces
sity is avoided if the solid opposing mass suppress the flame
before it be generated ; and we in fact see that name, especially
at the moment of its generation, is mild and gentle, and requires
a hollow space where it can play and try its force. The great
violence of the effect, therefore, cannot be attributed to this
cause ; but the truth is, that the generation of these exploding
flames and fiery blasts arises from the conflict of two bodies of a
decidedly opposite nature, — the one very inflammable, as is the
sulphur, the other having an antipathy to flame, namely, the
crude spirit of the nitre ; so that an extraordinary conflict takes
place whilst the sulphur is becoming inflamed as far as it can
(for the third body, the willow charcoal, merely incorporates and
conveniently unites the two others), and the spirit of nitre is
escaping, as far also as it can, and at the same time expanding
itself (for air, and all crude substances, and water are expanded
by heat), fanning thus, in every direction, the flame of the sul
phur by its escape and violence, just as if by invisible bellows.

Two kinds of instances of the cross might here be used, — the
one of very inflammable substances, such as sulphur and cam-
phire, naphtha and the like, and their compounds, which take tire
more readily and easily than gunpowder if left to themselves
(and this shows that the effort to catch fire does not of itself
produce such a prodigious effect) ; the other of substances which
avoid and repel flame, such as all salts ; for we see that when
they are cast into the fire, the aqueous spirit escapes with a
crackling noise before flame is produced, which also happens ia
n loss degree in stiff leaves, from the escape of the aqueous part
before the oily part has caught fire. This is more particularly
2 2 L

Ofl NOYUM OKGANUM. [BOOK It.

observed in quicksilver, which is not improperly called mineral
water, and which, without any inflammation, nearly equals the
force of gunpowder by simple explosion and expansion, and is
said, vhen mixed with gunpowder, to increase its force.

Again, let the required nature be the transitory nature of
flame and its momentaneous extinction ; for to us the nature of
flame does not appear to be fixed or settled, but to be generated
from moment to moment, and to be every instant extinguished ;
it being clear that those flames which continue and last, do net
owe their continuance to the same mass of flame, but to a con
tinued succession of new flame regularly generated, and that the
same identical flame does not continue. This is easily shown by
removing the food or source of the flame, when it at once goes out.
We have the two following cross- ways with regard to this nature :
• — This momentary nature either arises from the cessation of the
cause which first produced it, as in light, sounds, and violent
motions, as they are termed, or flame may be capable, by its ow i
nature, of duration, but is subjected to some violence from tha
contrary natures which surround it, and is destroyed.

We may therefore adopt the following instance of the cros*.
We see to what a height the flames rise in great conflagrations ;
for as the base of the flame becomes more extensive, its vertet
is more lofty. It appears, then, that the commencement of th-3
extinction takes place at the sides, where the flame is compresse>l
by the air, and is ill at ease j but the centre of the flame, whic'i
is untouched by the air and surrounded by flame, continues tha
same, and is not extinguished until compressed by degrees by
the air attacking it from the sides. All flame, therefore, is pyra
midal, having its base near the source, and its vertex pointed
from its being resisted by the air, and not supplied from tli3
source. On the contrary, the smoke, which is narrow at tha
base, expands in its ascent, and resembles an inverted pyramid,
because the air admits the smoke, but compresses the flame ; for
let no one dream that the lighted flame is air, since they axa
clearly heterogeneous.

The instance of the cross will be more accurate, if the expe
riment can be made by flames of different colours. Take, there
fore, a small metal sconce, and place a lighted taper in it, the:i
put it in a basin, and pour a small quantity of spirits of win*
round the sconce, so as not to reach its edge, and light the spirit .
Now the flame of the spirit will be blue, and that of the taper
yellow ; observe, therefore, whether the latter (which can easily
be distinguished from the former by its colour, for flames do not
mix immediately, as liquids do) continue pyramidal, or tend
more to a globular figure, since there is nothing to destroy or
compress it. If the latter result be observed, it must be con
sidered as settled, that flame continues positively the same, whilst

BOOK II.] DISTANCES OF DIVORCE. 515

ineloseJ within another flame, and not exposed to the resisting
force of the air.

Let this suffice for the instances of the cross. We have dwelt
the longer upon them in order gradually to teach and accustom
mankind to judge of nature by these instances, and enlightening
experiments, and not by probable reasons.1

XXXVII. We will treat of the instances of divorce as the
fifteenth of our prerogative instances. They indicate the sepa
ration of natures of the most common occurrence. They diner,
however, from those subjoined to the accompanying instances ;
for the instances of divorce point out the separation of a particular
nature from some concrete substance with which it is usually
found in conjunction, whilst the hostile instances point out the
total separation of one nature from another. They differ, also,
from the instances of the cross, because they decide nothing, but
only inform us that the one nature is capable of being separated
from the other. They are of use in exposing false forms, and
dissipating hasty theories derived from obvious facts ; so that
they add ballast and weight, as it were, to the understanding.

For instance, let the required natures be those four which

* These instances, which Bacon seems to consider as a great discovery,
are nothing more than disjunctive propositions combined with dilem
mas. In proposing to explain an effect, we commence with the enu
meration of the different causes which seem connected with its produc
tion ; then with the aid of one or more dilemmas, we eliminate each
of the phenomena accidental to its composition, and conclude with
attributing the effect to the residue. For instance, a certain phe
nomenon (a) is produced either by phenomenon (B) or phenomenon (c) ;
but C cannot be the cause of a, for it is found in D, E, F, neither of
which are connected with a. Then the true cause of phenomenon (a)
must be phenomenon (B).

This species of reasoning is liable to several paralogisms, against
which Bacon has not guarded his readers, from the very fact that he
stumbled into them unwittingly himself. The two principal ones are
false exclusions and defective enumerations. Bacon, in his survey of
the causes which are able to concur in producing the phenomena of
the tides, takes no account of the periodic melting of the Polar ice, or
the expansion of water by the solar heat : nor does he fare better in
his exclusions. For the attraction of the planets and the progression
and retrograde motion communicated by the earth's diurnal revolution,
can plainly affect the sea together, and have a simultaneous influence
on its surface.

Bacon is hardly just or consistent in his censure of Ramus ; the end
of whose dichotomy was only to render reasoning by dilemma, and
crucial instances, more certain in their results, by reducing the divisions
\vhich composed their parts to two sets of contradictory propositions.
The affirmative or negative of one would then necessarily have ltd to
the acceptance or rejection of the other. Ed.

516 KOVUM ORGANUM. CKOOK U.

Telesms terms associates, and of the same family, namely, heat,
light, rarity, and mobility, or promptitude to motion ; yet many
instances of divorce can be discovered between them. Air is rare
and easily moved, but neither hot nor light ; the moon is light
but not hot; boiling water is warm but not light; the motion of the
needle in the compass is swift and active, and yet its substance is
cold, dense, and opaque ; and there are many similar examples.

Again, let the required natures be corporeal nature and natural
action. The latter appears incapable of subsisting without some
body, yet may we, perhaps, even here find an instance of divorce,
as in the magnetic motion, which draws the iron to the magnet,
and heavy bodies to the globe of the earth ; to which we may
add other actions which operate at a distance. For such action
takes place in time, by distinct moments, not in an instant ; am'
in space, by regular degrees and distances. There is, therefore
some one moment of time and some interval of space, in whicl
the power or action is suspended betwixt the two bodies creating
the motion. Our consideration, then, is reduced to this, whether
the bodies which are the extremes of motion prepare or alte*
the intermediate bodies, so that the power advances from on<;
extreme to the other by succession and actual contact, and
in the mean time exists in some intermediate body; or whe
ther there exists in reality nothing but the bodies, the power,
and the space? In the case of the rays of light, sounds, and
heat, and some other objects which operate at a distance, it i i
indeed probable that the intermediate bodies are prepared and
altered, the more so because a qualified medium is required fo *
their operation. But the magnetic or attractive power admit <
of an indifferent medium, and it is not impeded in any. But if
that power or action is independent of the intermediate body, i;
follows that it is a natural power or action existing in a certain
time and space without any body, since it exists neither in tho
extreme nor in the intermediate bodies. Hence the magnetic
action may be taken as an instance of divorce of corporeal naturo
and natural action ; to which we may add, as a corollary and an.
advantage not to be neglected, that it may be taken as a proof
of essence and substance being separate and incorporeal, even b}-
those who philosophize according to the senses. For if natural
power and action emanating from a body can exist at any time
and place entirely without any body, it is nearly a proof that i :
can also emanate originally from an incorporeal substance ; fo:*
a corporeal nature appears to be no less necessary for supporting
and conveying, than for exciting or generating natural action.

XXXVIIL Next follow five classes of instances which we aro
wont to call by the general term of instances of the lamp, or of
immediate information. They are such as assist the senses ; for
eTerj interpretation of nature aets out from tbo senses, anci

BOOK ?!.] INSTANCES OF THE DOOB. 517

leads, by a regular fixed and well-established road, from the per
ceptions of the senses to those of the understanding (which are true
notions and axioms), it necessarily follows, that in proportion as the
representatives or ministerings of the senses are more abundant
and accurate, everything else must be more easv and successful.

The first of these five sets of instances of the lamp, strengthen,
enlarge, and correct the immediate operations of the senses ; the
second reduce to the sphere of the senses such matters as are
beyond it ; the third indicate the continued process or series of
such things and motions, as for the most part are only observed
in their termination, or in periods ; the fourth supply the
absolute wants of the senses ; the fifth excite their attention and
observation, and at the same time limit the subtilty of things.
We will now proceed to speak of them singly.

XXXIX. In the sixteenth rank, then, of prerogative instances,
we will place the instances of the door or gate, by which name
we designate such as assist the immediate action of the senses. It
is obvious, that sight holds the first rank among the senses, with
regard to information, for which reason we must seek principally
helps for that sense. These helps appear to be threefold, either to
enable it to perceive objects not naturally seen, or to see them from
a greater distance, or to see them more accurately and distinctly.

We have an example of the first (not to speak of spectacles
and the like, which only correct and remove the infirmity of a
deficient sight, and therefore give no further information) in the
lately invented microscopes, which exhibit the latent and invi-
flible minutiae of substances, and their hidden formation and
motion, by wonderfully increasing their apparent magnitude.
By their assistance we behold with astonishment the accurate
form and outline of a flea, moss, and animalculae, as well as their
previously invisible colour and motion. It is said, also, that an.
apparently straight line, drawn with a pen or pencil, is dis
covered by such a microscope to be very uneven and curved,
because neither the motion of the hand, when assisted by a ruler,
nor the impression of ink or colour, are really regular, although
the irregularities are so minute as not to be perceptible without
the assistance of the microscope. Men have (as is usual in new
and wonderful discoveries) added a superstitious remark, that
the microscope sheds a lustre on the works of nature, and dis
honour on those of art, which only means that the tissue of
nature is much more delicate than tnat of art. For the micro
scope is only of use for minute objects, and Democritus, perhaps,
if he had seen it, would have exulted in the thought of a means
being discovered for seeing his atom, which he affirmed to be
entirely invisible. But the inadequacy of these microscopes, for
the observation of any but the most minute bodies, and even of
those if parts of a larger body, destroys their utility ; for if the

KOVUM ORGANTJM. [BOOK If

invention could be extended to greater bodies, or the minute
parts of greater bodies, so that a piece of cloth would appear like
a net, and the latent minutiae and irregularities of gems, liquids,
urine, blood, wounds, and many other things could be rendered
visible, the greatest advantage would, without doubt, be derived.

We have an instance of the second kind in the telescope, dis
covered by the wonderful exertions of Galileo ; by the assistance
of which a nearer intercourse may be opened (as by boats or
vessels) between ourselves and the heavenly objects. For by ita
aid we are assured that the Milky Way is but a knot or constel
lation of small stars, clearly defined and separate, which the
ancients only conjectured to be the case ; whence it appears to be
capable of demonstration, that the spaces of the planetary orbits
(as they are termed) are not quite destitute of other stars, but
that the heaven begins to glitter with stars before we arrive at
the starry sphere, although they may be too small to be visible
without the telescope. By the telescope, also, we can behold the
revolutions of smaller stars round Jupiter, whence it may be con
jectured that there are several centres of motion among the stars.
By its assistance, also, the irregularity of light and shade on the
moon's surface is more clearly observed and determined, so as to
allow of a sort of selenography.11 By the telescope we see the
spots in the sun, and other similar phenomena ; all of which are
most noble discoveries, as far as credit can be safely given to
demonstrations of this nature, which are on this account very
suspicious, namely, that experiment stops at these few, and
nothing further has yet been discovered by the same method,
among objects equally worthy of consideration.

We have instances of the third kind in measuring-rods, astro
labes, and the like, which do not enlarge, but correct and guide
the sight. If there be other instances which assist the other
senses in their immediate and individual action, yet if they add
Nothing further to their information they are not apposite to our
present purpose, and we have therefore said nothing of them.

XL. In the seventeenth rank of prerogative instances we will
places citing instances (to borrow a term from the tribunals),
because they cite those things to appear, which have not yet ap
peared. We are wont also to call them invoking instances, and
their property is that of reducing to the sphere of the senses
objects which do not immediately fall within it.

Objects escape the senses either from their distance, or the
intervention of other bodies, or because they are not calculated
to make an impression upon the senses, or because they are not

• Pere hnenier first pornted out the spots on the sun's disk, and bj
the marks which they afforded him, computed its revolution to be JKJT-
formed in twenty-five days arid some hours. E<L

BOOK II.] CITING INSTANCES. 519

in sufficient quantity to strike the senses, or because there j not
^sufficient time for their acting upon the senses, or because the
impression is too violent, or because the senses are previously
filled and possessed by the object, so as to leave no room for any
new motion. These remarks apply principally to sight, and next
to touch, which two senses act extensively in giving information,
and that too upon general objects, whilst the remaining three
inform us only, as it were, by their immediate action, and as to
specific objects.

There can be no reduction to the sphere of the senses in the
first case, unless in the place of the object, which cannot be per
ceived on account of the distance, there be added or substituted
§ome other object, which can excite and strike the sense from a
greater distance, as in the communication of intelligence by fires,
bells, and the like.

In the second case we effect this reduction by rendering those
things which are concealed by the interposition of other bodies, and
which cannot easily be laid open, evident to the senses by means
of that which lies at the surface, or proceeds from the interior ;
thus the state of the body is judged of by the pulse, urine, &c.

The third and fourth cases apply to many subjects, and the
reduction to the sphere of the senses must be obtained from
every quarter in the investigation of things. There are many
examples. It is obvious that air, and spirit, and the like, whose
whole substance is extremely rare and delicate, can neither be
Been nor touched — a reduction, therefore, Ij the senses becomes
necessary in every investigation relating to such bodies.

Let the required nature, therefore, be the action and motion
of the spirit enclosed in tangible bodies ; for every tangible body
with which we are acquainted, contains an invisible and intan
gible spirit, over which it is drawn, and which it seems to clothe.
This spirit being emitted from a tangible substance, leaves the
body contracted and dry; when retained, it softens and melts it j
when neither wholly emitted nor retained, it models it, endows
it with limbs, assimilates, manifests, organizes it, and the like.
All these points are reduced to the sphere of the senses by mani
fest effects.

For in every tangible and inanimate body the enclosed spirit
at first increases, and as it were feeds on the tangible parts
wuicli are most open and prepared for it; and when it haf
digested and modified them, and turned them into spirit, it
escapes with them. This formation and increase of spirit is ren
dered sensible by the diminution of weight ; for in every desic
cation something is lost in quantity, not only of the spirit pre
viously existing in the body, but of the body itself, which was
previously tangible, and has been recently changed, for the spirit
itself has no wtiglit. The departure or emission of spirit is ren-

620 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II.

dered sensible in the rust of metals, and other putrefactions of a
like nature, which stop before they arrive at the rudiments of
life, which belong to the third species of process.1 In compact
bodies the spirit does not find pores and passages for its escape,
and is therefore obliged to force out, and drive before it, th-3
tangible parts also, which consequently protrude, whence arises
rust and the like. The contraction of the tangible parts, occa
sioned by the emission of part of the spirit (whence arises desic
cation), is rendered sensible by the increased hardness of the
substance, and still more by the fissures, contractions, shrivelling,
and folds of the bodies thus produced. For the parts of wood
split and contract, skins become shrivelled, and not only that,
but, if the spirit be emitted suddenly by the heat of the fire,
become so hastily contracted as to twist and roll themselves up.

On the contrary, when the spirit is retained, and yet expanded
and excited by heat or the like (which happens in solid and tena
cious bodies), then the bodies are softened, as in hot iron ; 01
flow, as in metals ; or melt, as in gums, wax, and the like. The
contrary effects of heat, therefore (hardening some substances
and melting others), are easily reconciled, y because the spirit is
omitted in the former, and agitated and retained in the latter ;
the latter action is that of heat and the spirit, the former that
of the tangible parts themselves, after the spirit's emission.

But when the spirit is neither entirely retained nor emitted,
but only strives and exercises itself, within its limits, and meets
with tangible parts, which obey and readily follow it wherever it
leads them, then follows the formation of an organic body, and
of limbs, and the other vital actions of vegetables and animals.
These are rendered sensible chiefly by diligent observation of the
first beginnings, and rudiments or effects of life in animalculae
sprung from putrefaction, as in the eggs of ants, worms, mosses,
frogs after rain, &c. Both a mild heat and a pliant substance,
however, are necessary for the production of life, in order that
the spirit may neither hastily escape, nor be restrained by the
obstinacy of the parts, so as not to be able to bend and model
them like wax.

Again, the difference of spirit which is important and of effect
'"n many points (as unconnected spirit, branching spirit, branch
ing and cellular spirit, the first of which is that of all inanimate

* Rust is now well known to be a chemical combination of oxygen
with the metal, and the metal when rusty acquires additional weight.
His theory as to the generation of animals, is deduced from tha
erroneous notion of the possibility of spontaneous generation (a* :t waj
termed). See the next paragraph but one.

7 " Limus ut hie durescit, et haec ut cera liquescit
Uuo evd_iu']Ut: igai." — Virg. Eel. viii.

BOOK II.] EXPANSION OF MATTKB. 521

substances, the second of vegetables, and the third of animals),
is placed, as it were, before the eyes by many reducing
instances.

Again, it is clear that the more refined tissue and conformation
of things (though forming the whole body of visible or tangible
objects) are neither visible nor tangible. Our information,
therefore, must here also be derived from reduction to the
sphere of the senses. But the most radical and primary dif
ference of formation depends on the abundance or scarcity of
matter within the same space or dimensions. For the other
formations which regard the dissimilarity of the parts contained
in the same body, and their collocation and position, are
secondary in comparison with the former.

Let the required nature then be the expansion or coherence of
matter in different bodies, or the quantity of matter relative to
the dimensions of each. For there is nothing in nature more
true than the twofold proposition, — that nothing proceeds from
nothing and that nothing is reduced to nothing, but that the
quantum, or sum total of matter, is constant, and is neither in
creased nor diminished. Nor is it less true, that out of thia
given quantity of matter, there is a greater or less quantity,
contained within the same space or dimensions according to the
difference of bodies; as, for instance, water contains more than
air. So that if any one were to assert that a given content of
water can be changed into an equal content of air, it is the same
as if he were to assert that something can be reduced into
nothing. On the contrary, it any one were to assert that a
given content of air can be changed into an equal content of
water, it is the same as if he were to assert that something can
proceed from nothing. From this abundance or scarcity of
matter are properly derived the notions of density and rarity,
which are taken in various and promiscuous senses.

This third assertion may be considered as being also suffi
ciently certain ; namely, that the greater or less quantity of
matter in this or that body, may, by comparison, be reduced to
calculation, and exact, or nearly exact, proportion. Thus, if one
should say that there is such an accumulation of matter in a
given quantity of gold, that it would require twenty-one times
the quantity in dimension of spirits of wine, to make up the
same quantity of matter, it would not be far from the truth.

The accumulation of matter, however, and its relative quantity,
are rendered sensible by weight ; for weight is proportionate
to the quantity of matter, as regards the parts of a tangible sub
stance, but spirit and its quantity of matter are not to be com
piled by weight, which spirit rather diminishes than augments.

We have made a tolerably accurate table of weight, in whii-h
we have selected the weights and size of all the metals, tiie

522 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK ii.

principal minerals, stones, liquids, oils, and many other natural
and artificial bodies : a very useful proceeding both as regards
theory and practice, and which is capable of revealing many un
expected results. Nor is this of little consequence, that it serves
to demonstrate that the whole range of the variety of tangibly
bodies with which we are acquainted (we mean tolerably close,
and not spongy, hollow bodies, which are for a considerable part
filled with air), does not exceed the ratio of one to twenty- one.
So limited is nature, or at least that part of it to which we are
most habituated.

We have also thought it deserving our industry, to try if we
could arrive at the ratio of intangible or pneumatic bodies to
tangible bodies, which we attempted by the following contrivance.
We took a vial capable of containing about an ounce, using a
•mall vessel in order to effect the subsequent evaporation with
less heat. We filled this vial, almost to the neck, with spirits of
wine, selecting it as the tangible body which, by our table, was
the rarest, and contained a less quantity of matter in a given
§pace than all other tangible bodies which are compact and not
hollow. Then we noted exactly the weight of the liquid and
vial. We next took a bladder, containing about two pints, and
squeezed all the air out of it, as completely as possible, and until
the sides of the bladder met. We first, however, rubbed the
bladder gently with oil, so as to make it air-tight, by closing its
pores with the oil. We tied the bladder tightly round the mouth
of the vial, which we had inserted in it, and with a piece of
waxed thread to make it fit better and more tightly, and then
placed the vial on some hot coals in a brazier. The vapour or
steam of the spirit, dilated and become aeriform by the heat,
gradually swelled out the bladder, and stretched it in every
direction like a sail. As soon as that was accomplished, we
removed the vial from the fire and placed it on a carpet, that it
might not be cracked by the cold ; we also pricked the bladder
immediately, that i-he steam might not return to a liquid state
by the cessation of heat, and confound the proportions. We
then removed the bladder, and again took the weight of the spirit
which remained ; and so calculated the quantity which had been
converted into vapour, or an aeriform shape, and then examined
how much space had been occupied by the body in its form of
spirits of wine in the vial, and how much, on the other hand, had
been occupied by it in its aeriform shape in tne bladder, and
subtracted the results; from which it was clear, that the body,
thus converted and changed, acquired an expansion of one
hundred times beyond its former bulk.

Again, let the required nature be heat or cold, of such a degreo
AS not to be sensible from its weakness. They are rendered sensible

BOOK IL] METHOD OF ANALYSIS. 023

by the therm ometer, as we described it above ;• for the cold and
boat are not actually perceived by the touch, but heat expands
and cold contracts the air. Nor, again, is that expansion or con
traction of the air in itself visible, but the air when expanded
depresses the water, and when contracted raises it, which is the
first reduction to sight.

Again, let the required nature be the mixture of bodies ;
namely, how much aqueous, oleaginous or spirituous, ashy or
salt parts they contain; or, as a particular example, how much
butter, cheese, and whey there is in milk, and the like? These
things are rendered sensible by artificial and skilful separations
in tangible substances ; and the nature of the spirit in them,
though not immediately perceptible, is nevertheless discovered
by the various motions and efforts of bodies. And, indeed, in
this branch men have laboured hard in distillations and artificial
separations, but with little more success than in their other ex
periments now in use ; their methods being mere guesses and
blind attempts, and more industrious than intelligent; and what
is worst of all, without any imitation or rivalry of nature, but
rather by violent heats and too energetic agents, to the destruc
tion of any delicate conformation, in which principally consist
the hidden virtues and sympathies. Nor do men in these sepa
rations ever attend to or observe what we have before pointed
out; namely, that in attacking bodies by fire, or other methods,
many qualities are superinduced by the fire itself, and the other
bodies used to effect the separation, which were not originally in
the compound. Hence arise most extraordinary fallacies; for
the mass of vapour which is emitted from water by fire, for
instance, did not exist as vapour or air in the water, but is chiefly
created by the expansion of the water by the heat of the fire.

So, in general, all delicate experiments on natural or artificial
bodies, by which the genuine are distinguished from the adul
terated, and the better from the more common, should be
referred to this division ; for they bring that which is not the
object of the senses within their sphere. They are therefore
to be everywhere diligently sought after.

With regard to the iifth cause of objects escaping our senses,
it is clear that the action of the sense takes place by motion,
and this motion is time. If, therefore, the motion of any body
be either so slow or so swift as not to be proportioned to the
necessary momentum which operates on the senses, the object
is not perceived at all ; as in the motion of the hour hand, and
that, again, of a musket-ball. The motion which is imperceptible
by the senses from its slowness, is readily and usually rendered

• See Table of Degrees, No. 88.

524 HOVTJM ORGANUM [HOOK H.

sensible by the Accumulation of motion ; that which is imper
ceptible from its velocity, has not as yet been well measured ; it
is necessary, however, that this should be done in some cases,
with a view to a proper investigation of nature.

The sixth case, where the sense is impeded by the power oi
the object, admits of a reduction to the sensible sphere, either
by removing the object to a greater distance, or by deadening
its effects by the interposition of a medium, which may weaken
and not destroy the object ; or by the admission of its reflection
where the direct impression is too strong, as that of the sun in
a basin of water.

The seventh case, where the senses are so overcharged with
the object as to leave no further room, scarcely occurs except in
the smell or taste, and is not of much consequence as regards
our present subject. Let what we have said, therefore, suffice
with regard to the reduction to the sensible sphere of objects not
naturally within its compass.

Sometimes, however, this reduction is not extended to the
senses of man, but to those of some other animal, whose senses,
in some points, exceed those of man ; as (with regard to some
scents) to that of the dog, and with regard to light existing
imperceptibly in the air, when not illuminated from any ex
traneous source, to the sense of the cat, the owl, and other
animals which see by night. For Telesius has well observed,
that there appears to be an original portion of light even in the
air itself," although but slight and meagre, and of no use for the
most part to the eyes of men, and those of the generality of
animals ; because those animals to whose senses this light is
proportioned can see by night, which does not, in all probability,
proceed from their seeing either without light or by any internal
light.

Here, too, we would observe, that we at present discuss only
the wants of the senses, and their remedies ; for their deceptions
must be referred to the inquiries appropriated to the senses, and
sensible objects ; except that important deception, which makes
them define objects in their relation to man, and not in their
relation to the universe, and which is only corrected by universal
reasoning and philosophy.6

• Riccati, and all modern physicists, discover some portion of light
in every body, which seems to confirm the passage in Genesis that
assigns to this substance priority in creation. Ed.

b As instances of this kind, which the progress of science since the
time of Bacon afford, we may cite the air-pump and the barometer, for
manifesting the weight and elasticity of air : the measurement of th«
velocity of light, by means of the occultation of Jupiter's satellites
and the aberration of the fixed stars : the experiments in electricity
fcsd galvanism, and iu the greater part ot pneumatic chemistry. In

HOOK II.] INSTANCES OF THE ROAD. 525

XLI In the eighteenth rank of prerogative instances we will
class the instances of the road, which we are also wont to call
itinerant and jointed instances. They are such as indicate the
gradually continued motions of nature. This species of in
stances escapes rather our observation than our senses ; for men
are wonderfully indolent upon this subject, consulting nature in
a desultory manner, and at periodic intervals, when bodies have
been regularly finished and completed, and not during her work.
But if any one were desirous of examining and contemplating
the talents and industry of an artificer, he would not merely
wish to see the rude materials of his art, and then his work
Tvhen finished, but rather to be present whilst he is at labour,
and proceeding with his work. Something of the same kind
should be done with regard to nature. For instance, if any one
investigate the vegetation of plants, he should observe from the
first sowing of any seed (which can easily be done, by nulling
up every day seeds which have been two, three, or four aays in
the ground, and examining them diligently), how and when the
seed begins to swell and break, and be filled, as it were, with
spirit ; then how it begins to burst the bark and push out fibres,
raising itself a little at the same time, unless the ground be very
stiff'; then how it pushes out these fibres, some downwards for
roots, others upwards for the stem, sometimes also creeping
laterally, if it find the earth open and more yielding on one side,
and the like. The same should be done in observing the hatch
ing of eggs, where we may easily see the process of animation
and organization, and what parts are formed of the yolk, and
what oi the white of the egg, and the like. The same may be
said oi the inquiry into the formation of animals from putrefac
tion ; for it would not be so humane to inquire into perfect and
terrestrial animals, by cutting the foetus from the womb ; but
opportunities may perhaps be offered of abortions, animals killed
in hunting, and the like. Nature, therefore, must, as it were, be
watched, as being more easily observed by night than by day :
for contemplations of this kind may be considered as carried on
by night, from the minuteness and perpetual burning of our
watch-light.

The same must be attempted with inanimate objects, which
\c have ourselves done by inquiring into the opening of liquids
by fire. For the mode in which water expands is different from
that observed in wine, vinegar, or verjuice, and very different,
again, from that observed in milk and oil, and the like ; and this
was easily seen bv boiling them with slow heat, in a glass vessel,
through which the whole may be clearly perceived. But we

all these cases scientific facts are elicited, which sense covld never lurvi
ret ealfcd to us. Ed.

526 ITOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK n.

merely mention tins, intending to treat of it more at large and
more closely when we come to the discovery of the latent-
process ; for it should always be remembered that we do not
here treat of things themselves, but merely propose examples.

XLII. In the nineteenth rank of prerogative instances we
will class supplementary or substitutive instances, which we are
also wont to call instances of refuge. They are such as supply
information, where the senses are entirely deficient, and we
therefore have recourse to them when appropriate instances can
not be obtained. This substitution is twofola, either by approxi
mation or by analogy. For instance, there is no known medium
which entirely prevents the effect of the magnet in attracting
iron, — neither gold, nor silver, nor stone, nor glass, wood, water,
oil, cloth, or fibrous bodies, air, flame, or the like. Yet by
accurate experiment, a medium may perhaps be found which
would deaden its effect, more than another comparatively and in
degree ; as, for instance, the magnet would not perhaps attract
iron through the same thickness of gold as of air, or the same
quantity of ignited as of cold silver, and so on ; for we have not
ourselves made the experiment, but it will suffice as an example.
Again, there is no known body which is not susceptible of heat,
when brought, near the fire ; yet air becomes warm much sooner
than stone. These are examples of substitution by approxima
tion.

Substitution by analogy is useful, but less sure, and therefore
to be adopted with some judgment. It serves to reduce that
which is not the object of the senses to their sphere, not by the
perceptible operations of the imperceptible body, but by the
consideration of some similar perceptible body. For instance,
let the subject for inquiry be the mixture of spirits, which are
invisible bodies. There appears to be some relation between
bodies and their sources or support. Now, the source of flame
seems to be oil and fat ; that of air, water, and watery sub-

c The itinerant instances, as well as frontier instances, are cases in
which we are enabled to trace the general law of continuity which
seems to pervade all nature, and which has been aptly embodied in the
sentence, "natura non agit per saltum." The pursuit of this law into
phenomena where its application is not at first sight obvious, has
opened a mine of physical discovery, and led us to perceive an inti
mate connection between facts which at first seemed hostile to each
other. For example, the transparency of gold-leaf, which permits a
bluish-green light to pass through it, is a frontier instance between
transparent and opaque bodies, by exhibiting a body of the glass gene
rally regarded the most opaque in nature, as still possessed ot some
slight degree of transparency. It thus proves that the quality of
opacity is not a contrary or antagonistic quality to that of transparency,
but only it* extreme lowest degree.

BOOK n.] LANCING INSTANCES. 527

B tan ccs ; for flame increases over the exhalation of oil, and air
over that of water. One must therefore consider the mixture of
oil and water, which is manifest to the senses, since that of air
and flame in general escapes the senses. But oil and water mix
very imperfectly by composition or stirring, whilst they are
exactly and nicely mixed in herbs, blood, and the parts of
animals. Something similar, therefore, may take place in the
mixture of flame and air in spirituous substances, not bearing
mixture very well by simple collision, whilst they appear, how
ever, to be well mixed in the spirits of plants and animals.

Again, if the inquiry do not relate to perfect mixtures of
spirits, but merely to their composition, as whether they easily
incorporate with each other, or there be rather (as an example)
certain winds and exhalations, or other spiritual bodies, which do
not mix with common air, but only adhere to and float in it in
globules and drops, and are rather broken and pounded by tho
air, than received into, and incorporated with it ; this cannot be
perceived in common air, and other aeriform substances, on
account of the rarity of the bodies, but an imago, as it were, of
this process may be conceived in such liquids as quicksilver,
oil, water, and even air, when broken and dissipated it ascends
in small portions through water, and also in the thicker kinds of
smoke ; lastly, in dust, raised and remaining in the air, in all of
which there is no incorporation : and the above representation
in this respect is not a bad one, if it be first diligently investi
gated, whether there can be such a difference of nature between
spirituous substances, as between liquids, for then these imagei
might conveniently be substituted by analogy.

And although we have observed of these supplementary in
stances, that information is to be derived from them, when appro
priate instances are wanting, by way of refuge, yet we would
aave it understood, that they are also of great use, when the
appropriate instances are at nand, in order to confirm the in
formation afforded by them ; of which we will speak more at
length, when our subject leads us, in due course, to the support
of induction.

XLIII. In the twentieth rank of prerogative instances we will
place lancing instances, which we are also wont (but for a different
reason) to call twitching instances. We adopt the latter name,
because they twitch the understanding, and the former because
they pierce nature, whence we style them occasionally the in
stances of Democritus.d They are such as warn the understand
ing of the admirable and exquisite subtilty of nature, so that it
becomes roused and awakened to attention, observation, and
proper inquiry ; as, for instance, that a little drop of ink should

d Alluding to his theory of atoms.

528 NOVUM ORGANUM [nCOTT ™,

be drawn out into ?o ninny letters ; that silver merely gilt on it.q
surface should be stretched to such a length of gilt win- ; that n
little worm, such as you may find on the skin, should possess
both a spirit and a varied conformation of its parts ; that a littlt-
saffron should imbue a whole tub of water with its colour ; that,
a little musk or aroma should imbue a much greater extent of
air with its perfume ; that ~ cloud of smoke should be raised by
a little incense ; that such accurate differences at sounds a«
articulate words should be conveyed in all directions through the
air, and even penetrate the pores of wood and water (though
they become much weakened), that they should be, moreover,
reflected, and that with such distinctness and velocity ; that
light and colour should for such an extent and so rapidly pass
through solid bodies, such as glass and water, with so great and
so exquisite a variety of images, and should be refracted and
reflected ; that the magnet should attract through every descrip
tion of body, even the most compact ; but (what is still more
wonderful) that in all these cases the action of one should not
impede that of another in a common medium, such as air ; and
that there should be borne through the air, at the same time, so
many images of visible objects, so many impulses of articulation,
BO many different perfumes, as of the violet, rose, &c., besides
cold and heat, and magnetic attractions ; all of them, I say, at
once, without any impediment from each other, as if each had
its paths and peculiar passage set apart for it, without infringing
against or meeting each other.

To these lancing instances, however, we are wont, not without
iome advantage, to add those which we call the limits of such
instances. Thus, in the cases we have pointed out, one action,
does not disturb or impede another of a different nature, yet
those of a similar nature* subdue and extinguish each other ; as
the light of the sun does that of the candle, the sound ot a
cannon that of the voice, a strong perfume a more delicate one,
a powerful heat a more gentle one, a plate of iron between the
magnet and other iron the effect of the magnet. But the proper
place for mentioning these will be also amongst the supports of
induction.

XLIV. We have now spoken of the instances which assist the
senses, and which are principally of service as regards informa
tion ; for information begins from the senses. But our whole
labour terminates in practice, and as the former is the beginning,
80 is the latter the end of our subject. The following instances,
therefore, will be those which are chiefly useful in practice.
They are comprehended in two classes, and are seven in number.
We call them all by the general name of practical instances.
Now there are two defects in practice, and as many divisions ol

BOOK II. INSTANCES OF THE ROD 529

important instances. Practice is either deceptive or too laborious.
It is generally deceptive (especially after a diligent examination
of natures), on account of the power and actions of bodies being
ill defined and determined. Now the powers and actions of
bodies are defined and determined either by space or by time, or
by the quantity at a given period, or by the predominance of
energy ; and if these four circumstances be not well and dili
gently considered, the sciences may indeed be beautiful in theory,
but are of no effect in practice. "\Vc call the four instances
referred to this class, mathematical instances and instances of
measure.

Practice 13 laborious either from the multitude of instruments,
or the bulk of matter and substances requisite for any given
work. Those instances, therefore, are valuable, which either
direct practice to that which is of most consequence to mankind,
or lessen the number of instruments or of matter to be worked
upon. We assign to the three instances relating to this class, the
common name of propitious or benevolent instances. We will
now separately discuss these seven instances, and conclude with
them that part of our work which relates to the prerogative or
illustrious instances.

XLV. In the twenty-first rank of prerogative instances we
will place the instances of the rod or rule, which we are also
wont to call the instances of completion or non ultra. For the
powers and motions of bodies do not act and take effect through
indefinite and accidental, but through limited and certain spaces;
and it is of great importance to practice that these should be
understood and noted in every nature which is investigated, not
only to prevent deception, but to render practice more extensive
and efficient. For it is sometimes possible to extend these
powers, and bring the distance, as it were, nearer, as in the
example of telescopes.

Many powers act and take effect only by actual touch, as in
the percussion of bodies, where the one does not remove tho
other, unless the impelling touch the impelled body. External
applications in medicine, as ointment and plasters, do not exer
cise their efficacy except when in contact with the body. Lastly,
the objects of touch and taste only strike those senses when in
contact with their organs.

Other powers act at a distance, though it be very small, of which
but few have as yet been noted, although there be more than
men suspect ; this happens (to take everyday instances) when
amber or jet attracts straws, bubbles dissolve bubbles, some
purgative medicines draw humours from above, and the like.
The magnetic power by which iron and the magnet, or two
Oiagneta, are attracted together, acts within a definite and nar-

630 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II.

ro\\- sphere, hut if there be any magnetic power emanating from
the earth a little below its surface, and affecting the needle in
its polarity, it must act at a great distance.

Again, if there be any magnetic force which acts by sympathy
between the globe of the earth and heavy bodies, or between
that of the moon and the waters of the sea (as seems most pro-
bable from the particular floods and ebbs which occur twice in
the month), or between the starry sphere and the planets, by
which they are summoned and raised to their apogees, these
must all operate at very great distances.6 Again, some cor-
ilagrations and the kindling of flames take place at very con
siderable distances with particular substances, as they report cf
the naphtha of Babylon. Heat, too, insinuates itself at wid3
distances, as docs also cold, so that the masses of ice which ar?
broken off and float upon the Northern Ocean, and are born ;
through the Atlantic to the coast of Canada, become perceptible
by the inhabitants, and strike them with cold from a distance.
Perfumes also (though here there appears to be always somo
corporeal emission) act at remarkable distances, as is experienced
by persons sailing by the coast of Florida, or parts of Spain,
where there are whole woods of lemons, oranges, and other
odoriferous plants, or rosemary and marjoram bushes, and the
like. Lastly, the rays of light and the impressions of sound ac ,
at extensive distances.

e Observe the approximation to Newton's theory. The same notior
repeated still more clearly in the ninth motion. Newton believec
that the planets might so conspire as to derange the earth's annua
revolution, and to elongate the line of the apsides and ellipsis that
the earth describes in its annual revolution round the sun. In
the supposition that all the planets meet on the same straight line,
Venus and Mercury on one side of the sun, and the earth, moon,
Mars, Jupiter, and Saturn on the side diametrically opposite ; then
Saturn would attract Jupiter, Jupiter Mars, Mars the moon, which
must in its turn attract the earth in proportion to the force with
which it was drawn out of its orbit. The result of this combined
action on our planet would elongate its ecliptic orbit, and so far draw it
from the source of heat, as to produce an intensity of cold destructive
to animal life. But this movement would immediately cease with the
planetary concurrence which produced it, and the earth, like a com-

f'ressed spring, bound almost as near to the sun as she had been drawn
rom it, the reaction of the heat on its surface being about as intense
as the cold caused by the first removal was severe. The earth, until
it gained its regular track, would thus alternately vibrate between each
side of its orbit, with successive changes in its atmosphere, proportional
to the square of the variation of its distance from the sun. In no place
is Bacon's genius more conspicuous than in these repeated guesses at
truth. He would have been a strong Copernican, had not Gilbert
defended the system. Sd

BOOK II.] MEASURES OP MOTION. 531

Yet all these powers, whether acting at a small or great dis
tance, certainly act within definite distances, which are well
ascertained by nature ^ so that there is a limit depending either
on the mass or quantity of the bodies, the vigour or faintness of
the powers, or the favourable or impeding nature of the medium,
all of which should be taken into account and observed. We
must also note the bounda-ries of violent motions, such as mis-
Biles, projectiles, wheels, and the like, since they are also mani
festly confined to certain limits.

Some motions and virtues are to be found of a directly con
trary nature to these, which act in contact but not at a distance ;
namely, such as operate at a distance and not in contact, and
again act with less force at a less distance, and the reverse.
Sight, for instance, is not easily effective in contact, but requires
a medium and distance; although I remember having heard
from a person deserving of credit, that in being cured of a cata
ract (which was done by putting a small silver needle within the
first coat of the eye, to remove the thin pellicle of the cataract,
and force it into a corner of the eye), he had distinctly seen the
needle moving across the pupil. Still, though this may be true,
it is clear that large bodies cannot be seen well or distinctly,
unless at the vertex of a cone, where the rays from the object
meet at some distance from the eye. In old persons the eye sees
better if the object be moved a little farther, and not nearer.
Again, it is certain that in projectiles the impact is not so violent
at too short a distance as a little afterwards/ Such are the
observations to be made on the measure of motions as regards
distance.

There is another measure of motion in space which must not
be passed over, not relating to progressive but spherical motion,
• — that is, the expansion of bodies into a greater, or their contrac
tion into a lesser sphere. For in our measure of this motion we
must inquire what degree of compression or extension bodies
easily and readily admit of, according to their nature, and at
•what point they begin to resist it, so as at last to bear it no fur
ther, — as when an inflated bladder is compressed, it allows a
certain compression of the air, but if this be increased, the air
does not suffer it, and the bladder is burst.

f This is not true except when the projectile acquires greater velocity
ftt every successive instant of its course, which is never the case except
•with falling bodies. Bacon appears to have been led into the opinion
from observing that gun-shots pierce many objects at a distance from
which they rebound when brought within a certain proximity of con
tact. This apparent inconsistency, however, arises from the resistance
of the parts of the object, which velocity combined with force is neces
sary to overcome. Ed,

2x2

532 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II.

\Ve have proved this by a more delicate experiment. We took
a metal bell, of a light and thin sort, such as is uaed for salt
cellars, and immersed it in a basin of water, so as to carry the
air contained in its interior down with it to the bottom of tin;
basin. We had first, however, placed a small globe at tho
bottom of the basin, over which we placed the bell. The result
was, that if the globe were small compared with the interior of tho
bell, the air would contract itself, and be compressed without;
being forced out, but if it were too large for the air readily to
yield to it, the latter became impatient of the pressure, raised
the bell partly up, and ascended in bubbles.

To prove, also, the extension (as well as the compression) which
air admits of, we adopted the following method: — We took n
glass egg, with a small hole at one end ; we drew out the air b}
violent suction at this hole, and then closed the hole with the
finger, immersed the egg in water, and then removed the finger.
The air being constrained by the effort made in suction, anc.
dilated beyond its natural state, and therefore striving to recover
and contract itself (so that if the egg had not been immersed ir.
water, it would have drawn in the air with a hissing sound), now
drew in a sufficient quantity of water to allow the air to recover
its former dimensions.*

It is well ascertained that rare bodies (such as air) admit ol
considerable contraction, as has been before observed ; bul
tangible bodies (such as water) admit of it much less readily,
nnd to a less extent. We investigated the latter point by the
following experiment : —

We had a leaden globe made, capable of containing about twc
pints, wine measure, and of tolerable thickness, so as to support
considerable pressure. We poured water into it through an
aperture, which we afterwards closed with melted lead, as soon
as the globe was filled with water, so that the whole became
perfectly solid. We next flattened the two opposite sides with a
heavy hammer, which necessarily caused the water to occupy a
less space, since the sphere is the solid of greatest content; and
when hammering failed from the resistance of the water, we
made use of a mill or press, till at last the water, refusing to
submit to a greater pressure, exuded like a fine dew through the
.solid lead. We then computed the extent to which the original
space had been reduced, and concluded that water admitted such
a degree of compression when constrained by great violence.

The more solid, dry, or compact bodies, such as stones, wood,
and metals, admit of much less, and indeed scarcely any percep
tible compression or expansion, but escape by breaking, slipping

* Tliis passage shows that the pressure of the external atmosphere,
which forces the water into the egg, was v?i i,i» Peon's time understood.

BOOK II.] INSTANCES OP THE COURSE. 533

forward, or other efforts ; as appears in bending wood, or steel
for watch-springs, in projectiles, hammering, and many other
motions, all of which, together with their degrees, are to be
observed and examined in the investigation of nature, either to
a certainty, or by estimation, or comparison, as opportunity
permits.

XLVI. In the twenty-second rank of prerogative instances
we will place the instances of the course, which we are also
wont to call water instances, borrowing our expression from the
water hour-glasses employed by the ancients instead of those
with sand. They are such as measure nature by the moments
ot time, as the last instances do by the degrees of space. For
all motion or natural action takes place in time, more or less
rapidly, but still in determined moments well ascertained by
nature. Even those actions which appear to take effect sud
denly, and in the twinkling of an eye (as we express it), are
found to admit of greater or less rapidity.

In the first place, then, we see that the return of the heavenly
bodies to the same place takes place in regular times, as does
the flood and ebb of the sea. The descent of heavy bodies
towards the earth, and the ascent of light bodies towards the
heavenly sphere, take place in definite times, h according to the
nature of the body, and of the medium through which it moves.
The sailing of ships, the motions of animals, the transmission of
projectiles, all take place in times the sums of which can be
computed. With regard to heat, we see that boys in winter
bathe their hands in the flame without being burnt ; and con
jurers, by quick and regular movements, overturn vessels filled
with wine or water, and replace them without spilling the liquid,
with several similar instances. The compression, expansion, and
eruption of several bodies, take place more or less rapidly,
according to the nature of the body and its motion, but still in
definite moments.

In the explosion of several cannon at once (which are some

h We have already alluded, in a note prefixed to the same aphorism
of the first book, to Newton's error of the absolute lightness of bodies.
In speaking again ot the volatile or spiritual substances (Aph. xl. b. ii.),
which he supposed with the Platonists and some of the schoolmen to
enter into the composition of every body, he ascribes to them a power
of lessening the weight of the material coating in which he supposes
them inclosed. It would appear from these passages and the text that
Bacon had no idea of the relative density of bodies, and the capability
which some have to diminish the specific gravity of the heavier sub-
Btances by the dilation of their parts ; or if he had, the reveries in
which Aristotle indulged in treating of the soul, about the appetency of
bodies to fly to kindred substances, — flame and spirit to the sky. and solid
opaque substances to the earth, must have vitiated his mind. Ed.

634 KOVUM onoANUM. [BOOK IL

times heard at the distance of thirty miles), the sound of those
nearest to the spot is heard before that ot the most distant.
Even in sight (whose action is most rapid), it is clear that a
definite time is necessary for its exertion, which is proved by
certain objects being invisible from the velocity of their motion,
such as a musket-ball ; for the flight of the ball is too swift to
allow an impression of its figure to be conveyed to the sight.

This last instance, and others of a like nature, have sometimes
excited in us a most marvellous doubt, no less than whether the
image of the sky and stars is perceived as at the actual moment
of its existence, or rather a little after, and whether there is not
(with regard to the visible appearance of the heavenly bodies) a
true and apparent time, as well as a true and apparent place,
which is observed by astronomers in parallaxes. It appeared so
incredible to us, that the images or radiations of heavenly bodies
could suddenly be conveyed through such immense spaces to the
sight, and it seemed that they ought rather to be transmitted in
a definite time.1 That doubt, however (as far as regards any
great difference between the true and apparent time), was sub
sequently completely set at rest, when we considered the infinite
loss and diminution of size as regards the real and apparent
magnitude of a star, occasioned by its distance, and at the same
time observed at how great a distance (at least sixty miles) bodies
which are merely white can be suddenly seen by us. For there
is no doubt, that the light of the heavenly bodies not only far
surpasses the vivid appearance of white, but even the light ot
any flame (with which we are acquainted) in the vigour of its
radiation. The immense velocity of the bodies themselves, which
is perceived in their diurnal motion, and has so astonished
thinking men, that they have been more ready to believe in the
motion of the earth, renders the motion of radiation from them
(marvellous as it is in its rapidity) more worthy of belief. That
which has weighed most with us, however, is, that if there were
any considerable interval of time between the reality and the
appearance, the images would often be interrupted and confused
by clouds formed in the mean time, and similar disturbances of
the medium. Let this suffice with regard to the simple measures
of time.

It is not merely the absolute, but still more the relative
measure of motions and actions which must be inquired into,
for this latter is of great use and application. We perceive that

Homer, a Danish astronomer, was the first to demonstrate, by con
necting the irregularities of the eclipses of Jupiter's satellites with thei?
distances from the earth, the necessity of time for the propagation oi
light. The idea occurred to Dominic Cassini as well as Bacon, but botb
allowed the discovery to slip out oi their hands. Ed.

BOOK II."1 RELATIVE INCREASE OF MOTION. 535

the flame of fire-arms is seen sooner than the sound is heard,
although the ball must have struck the air before the flame,
which was behind it, could escape : the reason of which is, that
light moves with greater velocity than sound. We perceive,
also, that visible images arc received by the sight with greater
rapidity than they arc dismissed, and for this reason, a violin,
string touched with the finger appears double ov triple, because
the new image is received before the former o$o is dismissed.
Hence, also, rings when spinning appear globular., and a lighted
torch, borne rapidly along at night, appears to ha\v a tail. Upon
the principle of the inequality of motion, also, Galileo attempted
an explanation of the flood and ebb of the sea, supposing the
earth to move rapidly, and the water slowly, by which means the
water, after accumulating, would at intervals fall back, as is
shown in a vessel of water made to move rapidly. lie has, how
ever, imagined this on data which cannot be granted (namely,
the earth's motion), and besides, does not satisfactorily account
for the tide taking place every six hours.

An example of our present point (the relative measure of
motion), and, at the same time, of its remarkable use of which
we have spoken, is conspicuous in mines filled with gunpowder,
where immense weights of earth, buildings, and the like, are
overthrown and prostrated by a small quantity of powder ; the
reason of which is decidedly this, that the motion of the expan
sion of the gunpowder is much more rapid than that of gravity,1*
which would resist it, so that the former has terminated before
the latter has commenced. Hence, also, in missiles, a strong blow
will not carry them so far as a sharp and rapid one. Nor could
a small portion of animal spirit in animals, especially in such
vast bodies as those of the whale and elephant, have ever bent or
directed such a mass of body, were it not owing to the velocity of
the former, and the slowness of the latter in resisting its motion.

In short, this point is one of the principal foundations of the
magic experiments (of which we shall presently speak), where a
small mass of matter overcomes and regulates a much larger, if
there but be an anticipation of motion, by the velocity of one
before the other is prepared to act.

Finally, the point of the first and last should be observed
in all natural actions. Thus, in an infusion of rhubarb the pur
gative property is first extracted, and then the astringent ; we
have experienced something of the same kind in steeping violets
in vinegar, which first extracts the sweet and delicate odour of

k The author in the text confounds inertness, which is a simple
indifference of bodies to action, with gravity, which is a force acting
always in proportion to their density, He falls into the same error
turther on. Ed.

536 Novtm ORGAN tm. [BOOK it

the flower; and then the more earthy part, which disturbs the
perfume ; so that if the violets be steeped a whole day, a much
fainter perfume is extracted than if they were steeped for a
quarter of an hour only, and then taken out ; and since the
odoriferous spirit in the violet is not abundant, let other and
fresh violets be steeped in the vinegar every quarter of an hour,
as many as six times, when the infusion becomes so strengthened,
that although the violets have not altogether remained there for
more than one hour and a half, there remains a most pleasing per
fume, not inferior to the flower itself, for a whole year. It must
be observed, however, that the perfume does not acquire its full
strength, till about a month after the infusion. In the distil-
lation of aromatic plants macerated in spirits of wine, it is well
known that an aqueous and useless phlegm rises first, then water
containing more of the spirit, and lastly, water containing more
ot the aroma; and many observations of the like kind, well
worthy of notice, are to be made in distillations. But let these
suffice as examples.1

1 The experiments of the two last classes of instances are considered
only in relation to practice, and Bacon does not so much as mention
their infinitely greater importance in the theoretical part of induction.
The important law of gravitation in physical astronomy could never
have been demonstrated but by such observations and experiments as
assigned accurate geometrical measures to the quantities compared.
It was necessary to determine with precision the demi-diameter ot the
earth, the velocity of falling bodies at its surface, the distance of the
moon, and the speed with which she describes her orbit, before the rela
tion could be discovered between the force which draws a stone to the
ground and that which retains the moon in her sphere.

In many cases the result of a number of particular facts, or the collec
tive instances rising out of them, can only be discovered by geometry,
which so far becomes necessary to complete the work of induction. For
instance, in the case of optics, when light passes from one transparent
medium to another, it is refracted, and the angle which the ray of inci
dence makes with the superficies which bounds the two media deter
mines that which the refracted ray makes with the same superficies.
Now, all experiment can do for us in this case is, to determine for any
particular angle of incidence the corresponding angle of refraction. But
with respect to the general rule which in every possible case deduces
one of these angles from the other, or expresses the constant and
invariable relation which subsists between them, experiment gives no
direct information. Geometry must, consequently, be called in, which,
when a constant though unknown relation subsists between two angles,
or two variable qualities of any kind, and wnen an indefinite number of
values of those quantities are assigned, furnishes infallible means of dis
covering that unknown relation either accurately or by approximation.
In this way it has been found, when the two media remain the same,
the cosines of the above-mentioned angles have a constant ratio to each
other. Hence, when the relations of the simple elements ot pheno-

BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF QUANTITY. 55?

XLVII. In tlie twenty-third rank of prerogative instances we
will place instances of quantity, which we are also wont to call
the doses or" nature (borrowing a word from medicine). They
are sucli as measure the powers by the quantity of bodies, and
point out the effect of the quantity in the degree of power. And
m the first place, some powers only subsist in the universal
quantity, or such as beats a relation to the confirmation and
fabric of the universe. Thus the earth is fixed, its parts fall.
The waters in the sea flow and ebb, but not in the rivers, except
by the admission of the sea. Then, again, almost all particular
powers act according to the greater or less quantity of the body.
Large masses of water are not easily rendered foul, small are.
New wine and beer become ripe and drinkable in small skins
much more readily than in large casks. If an herb be placed in
a considerable quantity of liquid, infusion takes place rather than
impregnation ; if in less, the reverse. A bath, therefore, and a
light sprinkling, produce different effects on the human body.
Light dew, again, never falls, but is dissipated and incorporated
with the air ; thus we see that in breathing on gems, the slight
quantity of moisture, like a small cloud in the air, is immediately
dissolved. Again, a piece of the same magnet does not attract
BO much iron as the whole magnet did. There are some powers
where the smallness of the quantity is of more avail ; as in
boring, a sharp point pierces more readily than a blunt one ; the
diamond, when pointed, makes an impression on glass, and the
like.

Here, too, we must not rest contented with a vague result, but
inquire into the exact proportion of quantity requisite for a par
ticular exertion of power; for 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 ^iven
time, one of two ounces ought to fall twice as rapidly, which is
most erroneous. Nor does the same ratio prevail in every kind
of power, their difference being considerable. The measure,

mena are discovered to afford a general rule which will apply to any
concrete case, the deductive method must be applied, and the elemen
tary principles made through its agency to account for the laws oi their
more complex combinations. The reflection and retraction ot light by
the rain falling from a cloud opposite to the sun was thought, even
before Newton's day, to contain the form ot the rainbow. This philo
sopher transformed a probable conjecture into a certain fact when ho
deduced from the known laws ot reflection and retraction the breadth
of the coloured arch, the diameter of the circle of which it is a part,
and the relation of the latter to the place ol the spectator and the sun.
Doubt was at once silenced when there came out ol his calculus a com
bination of the same laws ot the simple elements of optics answering tfl
the phenomena in nature. Ed.

538 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK 1L

therefore, must be determined by experiment, aiid not by pro
bability or conjecture.

Lastly, we must in all our investigations of nature observe
•what quantity, or dose, of the body is requisite for a given effect,
and must at the same time be guarded against estimating it at
too much or too little.

XLVIII. In the twenty-fourth rank of prerogative instances
•we will place wrestling instances, which we are also wont to call
instances of predominance. They are such as point out tho
predominance and submission of powers compared with each
other, and which of them is the more energetic and superior, or
more weak and inferior. For the motions and effects of bodies
arc compounded, decomposed, and combined, no less than the
bodies themselves. We will exhibit, therefore, the principal
kinds of motions or active powers, in order that their comparative
strength, and thence a demonstration and definition of the
instances in question, may be rendered more clear.

Let the first motion be that of the resistance of matter, which
exists in every particle, and completely prevents its annihilation ;
BO that no conflagration, weight, pressure, violence, or length of
time can reduce even the smallest portion of matter to nothing,
or prevent it from being something, and occupying some space,
and delivering itself (whatever straits it be put to), by changing
its form or place, or, if that be impossible, remaining as it is; nor
can it ever happen that it should cither be nothing or nowhere.
This motion is designated by the schools (which generally name
and define everything by its effects and inconveniences rather
than by its inherent cause) by the axiom, that two bodies can
not exist in the same place, or they call it a motion to prevent
the penetration of dimensions. It is useless to give examples of
this motion, since it exists in every body.

Let the second motion be that which we term the motion of
connection, by which bodies do not allow themselves to be sepa
rated at any point from the contact of another body, delighting,
:is it were, in the mutual connection and contact. This is called
by the schools a motion to prevent a vacuum. It takes place
when water is drawn up by suction or a syringe, the flesh by
cupping, or when the water remains without escaping from per
forated jars, unless the mouth be opened to admit the air, and
innumerable instances of a like nature.

Let the third be that which we term the motion of liberty, by
which bodies strive to deliver themselves from any unnatural
pressure or tension, and to restore themselves to the dimensions
suited to their mass ; and of which, also, there are innumerable
examples. Thus, we have examples of their escaping from pres
sure, in the water in swimming, in the air in flying, in the water
again in rowing, and in the air in the undulation of the winds,

BOOK II.] MOTION OP LIBERTY, 639

and in springs of watches. An exact instance of the motion of
compressed air is seen in children's popguns, which they make
by scooping out elder-branches or some such matter, and forcing
in a piece of some pulpy root or the like, at each end ; then they
force the root or other pellet with a ramrod to the opposite end,
from which the lower pellet is emitted and projected with a
rcporj, and that before it is touched by the other piece of root or
pellet, or by the ramrod. We have examples of their escape
from tension, in the motion of the air that remains in glass eggs
after suction, in strings, leather, and cloth, which recoil after
tension, unless it be long continued. The schools define this by
the term of motion from the form of the element; injudiciously
enough, since this motion is to bo found not only in air, water,
or fire, but in every species of solid, as wood, iron, lead, cloth,
parchment, &c., each of which has its own proper size, and is
with difficulty stretched to any other. Since, however, this
motion of liberty is the most obvious of all, and to be seen in an
infinite number of cases, it will be as well to distinguish^ cor
rectly and clearly ; for some most carelessly confound this with
the two others of resistance and connection ; namely, the freedom
from pressure with the former, and that from tension with the
latter, as if bodies when compressed yielded or expanded to pre
vent a penetration of dimensions, and when stretched rebounded
and contracted themselves to prevent a vacuum. But if the air,
when compressed, could be brought to the density of water, or
wood to that of stone, there would be no need of any penetration
of dimensions, and yet the compression would be much greater
than they actually admit of. So if water could be expanded till
it became as rare as air, or stone as rare as wood, there would
be no need of a vacuum, and yet the expansion would be much
greater than they actually admit of. We do not, therefore,
arrive at a penetration of dimensions or a vacuum before the
extremes cf condensation and rarefaction, whilst the motion we
speak of stops and exerts itself much within them, and is
nothing more than a desire of bodies to preserve their specific
density (or, if it be preferred, their form), and not to desert them
suddenly, but only to change by degrees, and of their own
accord. It is, however, much more necessary to intimate to
mankind (because many other points depend upon this), that the
violent motion which we call mechanical, and Deinocritiis (\vho.
in explaining his primary motions, is to be ranked even below
the middling class of philosophers) termed the motion of a blow,
is nothing else than this motion of liberty, namely, a tendency
$<j relaxation from compression. For in all simple impulsion or
flight through the air, the body is not displaced or moved in
space, until its parts are placed in an unnatural state, and com-
pressed by the impelling force. When that takes place, the

640 ITOVUM ORGANUM. [feOOK IL

different parts urging the other in succession, the whole is moved,
and that with a rotatory as well as progressive motion, in order
that the parts may, by this means also, set themselves at liberty,
or more readily submit. Let this suffice for the motion in
question.

~ Let the fourth be that which we term the motion of matter,
and which is opposed to the last ; for in the motion of liberty,
bodies abhor, reject, and avoid a new size or volume, or any new
expansion or contraction (for these different terms have the same
meaning), and strive, with all their power, to rebound and
resume their former density ; on the contrary, in the motion of
matter, they are anxious to acquire a new volume or dimension,
and attempt it willingly and rapidly, and occasionally by a most
vigorous effort, as in the example of gunpowder. The most
powerful, or at least most frequent, though not the only in
struments of this motion, are heat and cold. For instance, the
air, if expanded by tension (as by suction in the glass egg),
struggles anxiously to restore itself; but if heat be applied, it
strives, on the contrary, to dilate itself, and longs for a larger
volume, regularly passing and migrating into it, as into a new
form (as it is termed) ; nor after a certain degree of expansion
is it anxious to return, unless it be invited to do so by the
application of cold, which is not indeed a return, but a fresh
change. So also water, when confined by compression, resists,
and wishes to become as it was before, namely, more expanded; but
if there happen an intense and continued cold, it changes itself
readily, and of its own accord, into the condensed state of ice ;
and if the cold be long-continued, without any intervening
warmth (as in grottos and deep caves), it is changed into crystal
or similar matter, and never resumes its form.

Let the fifth be that which we term the motion of continuity
"We do not understand by this simple and primary continuity
with any other body (for that is the motion of connection), but
the continuity of a particular body in itself ; for it is most
certain that all bodies abhor a solution of continuity, some more
and some less, but all partially. In hard bodies (such as steel
and glass) the resistance to an interruption of continuity is
most powerful and efficacious, whilst although in liquids it
appears to be faint and languid, yet it is not altogether null, but
exists in the lowest degree, and shows itself in many experiments,
such as bubbles, the round form of drops, the thin threads which
drip from roofs, the cohesion of glutinous substances, and the
like. It is most conspicuous, however, if an attempt be made
to push this separation to still smaller particles. Thus, in
mortars, the pestle produces no effect after a certain degree of
contusion, water does not penetrate small fissures, and the air

BOOK II.] MOTION OF ACQUISITION. 541

itself, notwithstanding its subtilty, does not penetrate the pores
of solid vessels at once, but only by long-continued insinuation.

Let the sixth be that which we term the motion of acquisition,
or the motion of need."1 It is that by which bodies placed
amongst others of a heterogeneous and, as it were, hostile
nature, if they meet with the means or opportunity of avoiding
them, and uniting themselves with others of a more analogous
nature, even when these latter are not closely allied to them,
immediately seize and, as it were, selecb them, and appear to
consider it as something acquired (whence we derive the name),
and to have need of these latter bodies. For instance, gold, or
any other metal in leaf, does not like the neighbourhood of air ;
if, therefore, they meet with any tangible and thick substance
(such as the finger, paper, or the like), they immediately adhere
to it, and are not easily torn from it. Paper, too, and cloth, and
the like, do not agree with the air, which is inherent and mixed
in their pores. They readily, therefore, imbibe water or other
liquids, and get rid of the air. Sugar, or a sponge, dipped in
water or wine, and though part of it be out of the water or
wine, and at some height above it, will yet gradually absorb
them.n

Hence an excellent rule is derived for the opening and dissolu
tion of bodies ; for (not to mention corrosive and strong waters,
which force their way) if a body can be found which is more
adapted, suited, and friendly to a given solid, than that with
which it is by some necessity united, the given solid immediately
opens and dissolves itself to receive the former, and excludes or
removes the latter.0 Nor is the effect or power of this motion
confined to contact, for the electric energy (oi which Gilbert
and others after him have told so many fables) is only the
energy excited in a body by gentle friction, and which does not
endure the air, but prefers some tangible substance if there be
any at hand.

Let the seventh be that which we term the motion of greater
congregation, by which bodies are borne towards masses of a
similar nature, for instance, heavy bodies towards the earth,
light to the sphere of heaven. The schools termed this natural
motion, by a superficial consideration of it, because produced by
no external visible agent, which made them consider it innate in
the substances ; or perhaps because it does not cease, which is

*» As far as this motion results from attraction and repulsion, it is
only a simple consequence of the two last. Ed.

" These two cases are now resolved into the property of the capillary
tubes, and present only another feature oi the law of attraction. Ed.

0 This is one of the most useful practical methods in chemistry at the
present day.

542 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II

V

little to be wondered at, since heaven and earth are always
present, whilst the causes and sources of many other motions
are sometimes absent and sometimes present. They therefore
called this perpetual and proper, because it is never interrupted,
but instantly takes place when the others are interrupted, and
they called the others adscititious. The former, however, is in
reality weak and slow, since it yields, and is inferior to the
others as long as they act, unless the mass of the body be great;
and although this motion have so filled men's minds, as almost
to have obscured all others, yet they know but little about it,
and commit many errors in its estimate.

.Let the eighth be that which we term the motion of lesser
congregation, by which the homogeneous parts in any body
separate themselves from the heterogeneous and unite together,
and whole bodies of a similar substance coalesce and tend
towards each other, and are sometimes congregated, attracted,
and meet, from some distance ; thus in milk the cream rises after
a certain time, and in wine the dregs and tartar sink ; which
effects are not to be attributed to gravity and levity only, so as
to account for the rising of some parts and the sinking of others,
but much more to the desire of the homogeneous bodies to meet
and unite. This motion differs from that of need in two points :
1st, because the latter is the stimulus of a malignant and con
trary nature, whilst in this of which we treat (if there be no
impediment or restraint), the parts are united by their afii nil y,
although there be no foreign nature to create a struggle ; 2ndly,
because the union is closer and more select. For in the other
motion, bodies which have no great affinity unite, if they can
but avoid the hostile body, whilst in this, substances which are
connected by a decided kindred resemblance come together and
are moulded into one. It is a motion existing in all compound
bodies, and would be readily seen in each, if it were not confined
and checked by the other affections and necessities of bodies
which disturb the union.

This motion is usually confined in the three following manners :
by the torpor of the bodies ; by the power of the predominating
body ; by external motion. With regard to the first, it is
certain that there is more or less sluggishness in tangible bodies,
and an abhorrence of locomotion ; so that unless excited they
prefer remaining contented with their actual state, to placing
themselves in a better position. There are three means of
breaking through this sluggishness, — heat ; the active power of a
similar body ; vivid and powerful motion. With regard to tho
first, heat is, on this account, defined as that which separates
heterogeneous, and draws together homogeneous substances ; a
definition of the Peripatetics which is justly ridiculed by Gilbert,
who says it is as »f one were to define man to be that which

BOOK II.] MOTION OP CONGREGATION. 543

Bowg wheat and plants vineyards ; being only a definition
deduced from effects, and those but partial. But it is still more
to be blamed, because those effects, such as they are, are not a
peculiar property of heat, but a mere accident (for cold, as we
shall afterwards show, does the same), arising from the desire of
the homogeneous parts to unite ; the heat then assists them in
breaking through that sluggishness which before restrained their
desire. With regard to the assistance derived from the power
of a simil-ar body, it is most conspicuous in the magnet when
armed with steel, for it excites in the steel a power of adhering
to steel, as a homogeneous substance, the power of the magnet
breaking through the sluggishness of the steel. With regard to
the assistance of motion, it is seen in wooden arrows or points,
which penetrate more deeply into wood than if they were tipped
with iron, from the similarity of the substance, the swiftness of
the motion breaking through tho sluggishness of the wood ; of
which two last experiments we have spoken above in the aphorism
on clandestine instances. p

The confinement of the motion of lesser congregation, which
arises from the power of the predominant body, is shown in tho
decomposition of blood and urine by cold. For as long as these
substances are filled with the active spirit, which regulates and
restrains each of their component parts, as the predominant
ruler of the whole, the several different parts do not collect
themselves separately on account of the check ; but as soon as
that spirit has evaporated, or has been choked by the cold, then
the decomposed parts unite, according to their natural desire.
Hence it happens, that all bodies which contain a sharp spirit (as
salts and the like), last without decomposition, owing to the per
manent and durable power of the predominating and imperious
spirit.

The confinement of the motion of lesser congregation, which
arises from external motion, is very evident in that agitation of
bodies which preserves them from putrefaction. For all putre
faction depends on the congregation of the homogeneous parts,
whence, by degrees, there ensues a corruption of the first form
(as it is called), and the generation of another. For the decom
position of the original form, which is itself the union of the
homogeneous parts, precedes the putrefaction, which prepares
the way for the generation of another. This decomposition, if
not interrupted, is simple ; but if there be various obstacles,

gitrefactious ensue, which are the rudiments of a new generation,
ub if (to come to our present point) a frequent agitation be
excited by external motion, the motion towards union (which is
delicate and gentle, and requires to be free from all external

p See Aphorism xxv.

544 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK IL

influence) is disturbed, and ceases ; which we perceive to be the
rase in innumerable instances. Thus, the daily agitation or
flowing of water prevents putrefaction; winds prevent the air
j'rom being pestilent ; corn turned about and shaken in granaries
continues clean : in short, everything which is externally agitated
will with difficulty rot internally.

We must not omit that union of the parts of bodies which is
the principal cause ot induration and desiccation. When the
spirit or moisture, which has evaporated into spirit, has escaped
from a porous body (such as wood, bone, parchment, and the
like), the thicker parts are drawn together, and united with a
greater effort, and induration or desiccation is the consequence ;
and this we attribute not so much to the motion of connection
(in order to prevent a vacuum), as to this motion of friendship
and union.

Union from a distance is rare, and yet is to be met with in
more instances than are generally observed. AVe perceive it
when one bubble dissolves another, when medicines attract
humours from a similarity of substance, when one string moves
another in unison with it on different instruments, and the like.
We are of opinion that this motion is very prevalent also in
animal spirits, but are quite ignorant of the fact. It is, how
ever, conspicuous in the magnet, and magnetized iron. AYhilst
speaking of the motions of the magnet, we must plainly dis
tinguish them, for there are four distinct powers or effects of the
magnet which should not be confounded, although the wonder
nnd astonishment of mankind has classed them together. ]. The
attraction of the magnet to the magnet, or of iron to the magnet,
or of magnetized iron to iron. 2. Its polarity towards the
north and south, and its variation. 3. Its penetration through
gold, glass, stone, and all other substances. 4. The com
munication of power from the mineral to iron, and from iron to
iron, without any communication of the substances. Here,
however, we only speak of the first. There is also a singular
motion of attraction between quicksilver and gold, so that the
gold attracts quicksilver even when made use of in ointment;
and those who work surrounded by the vapours of quicksilver,
are wont to hold a piece of gold in their mouths, to collect the
exhalations, which would otherwise attack their heads and bones,
and this piece soon grows whitc.q Let this suffice for the motion
oi* lesser congregation.

Let the ninth be the magnetic motion, which, although of the
nature of that last mentioned, yet, when operating at great
distances, and on great masses, deserves a separate inquiry,
especially if it neither begin in contact, as most motions of con-

i Query.

BOOK II.] MOTION OF AVOIDANCE. 545

gregation do, nor end by bringing the substances into contact,
as all do, but only raise them, and make them swell without an/
further effect. For if the moon raise the waters, or cause
moist substances to swell, or if the starry sphere attract the
planets towards their apogees, or the sun confine the planets
Mercury and Venus to within a certain distance of his mass ; T
these motions do not appear capable of being classed under
either of those of congregation, but to be, as it were, inter
mediately and imperfectly congregative, and thus to form a
distinct species.

Let the tenth motion be that of avoidance, or that which i»
opposed to the motion of lesser congregation, by which bodies,
with a kind of antipathy, avoid and disperse, and separate them'
selves from, or refuse to unite themselves with others of a hostile
nature. For although this may sometimes appear to be an
accidental motion, necessarily attendant upon that of the lesser
congregation, because the homogeneous parts cannot unite,
unless the heterogeneous be first removed and excluded, yet it
is still to be classed separately,* and considered as a distinct
species, because, in many cases, the desire of avoidance appears
to be more marked than that of union.

It is very conspicuous in the excrements of animals, nor less,
perhaps, in objects odious to particular senses, especially the
smell and taste; for a fetid smell is rejected by the nose, so as
to produce a sympathetic motion of expulsion at the mouth of
the stomach; a bitter and rough taste is rejected by the palate
or throat, so as to produce a sympathetic concussion and shiver
ing of the head. This motion is visible also in other cases. Thus
it is observed in some kinds of antiperistasis, as in the middle
region of the air, the cold of which appears to be occasioned by
the rejection of cold from the regions of the heavenly bodies ;
and also in the heat and combustion observed in subterranean
spots, which appear to be owing to the rejection of heat from
the centre of the earth. For heat and cold, when in small
quantities, mutually destroy each other, whilst in larger quan
tities, like armies equally matched, they remove and eject each
other in open conflict. It is said, also, that cinnamon and other
perfumes retain their odour longer when placed near privies and
foul places, because they will not unite and mix with stinks. It
is well known that quicksilver, which would otherwise reunite
into a complete mass, is prevented from so doing by man's spittle,
pork lard, turpentine, and the like, from the little alh'nity of its

* Observe this approximation to Newton's theory.

• Those differences which are generated by the masses and respective
distances of bodies are only differences of quantity, and not specific;
consequently those three classes are only oae. Ed.

2 -2N

546 NOVUM. ORGANUM. [BOOK IL

parts with those substances, so that when surrounded by them
it draws itself back, and its avoidance of these intervening ob
stacles is greater than its desire of reuniting itself to its homo
geneous parts ; which is what they term the mortification of
quicksilver. Again, the difference in weight of oil and water is
not the only reason for their refusing to mix, but it is also owing
to the little affinity of the two ; for spirits of wine, which are
lighter than oil, mix very well with water. A very remarkable
fistance of the motion in question is seen in nitre, and crude
Bodies of a like nature, which abhor flame, as may be observed
l\ gunpowder, quicksilver, and gold. The avoidance of one pole
>f the magnet by iron is not (as Gilbert has well observed),
strictly speaking, an avoidance, but a conformity, or attraction
to a more convenient situation.

Let the eleventh motion be that of assimilation, or self-
multiplication, or simple generation, by which latter term we
do not mean the simple generation of integral bodies, such
as plants or animals, but of homogeneous bodies. By this
motion homogeneous bodies convert those which are allied
to them, or at least well disposed and prepared, into their
own substance and nature. Thus flame multiplies itself over
vapours and oily substances, and generates fresh flame ; the air
over water and watery substances multiplies itself and generates
fresh air ; the vegetable and animal spirit, over the thin particles
of a watery or oleaginous spirit contained in its food, multiplies
itself and generates fresh spirit ; the solid parts of plants and
animals, as the leaf, flower, the flesh, bone, and the like, each of
them assimilate some part of the juices contained in their food,
and generate a successive and daily substance. For let none
rave with Paracelsus, who (blinded by his distillations) would
have it, that nutrition takes place by mere separation, and that
the eye, nose, brain, and liver, lie concealed in bread and meat,
the root, leaf, and flower, in the juice of the earth; asserting
that just as the artist brings out a leaf, flower, eye, nose, hand,
foot, and the like, from a rude mass of stone or wood by the
separation and rejection of what is superfluous ; so the great
artist within us brings out our several limbs and parts by sepa
ration and rejection. But to leave such trifling, it is most cer
tain that all the parts of vegetables and animals, as well the
homogeneous as organic, first oi all attract those juices contained
in their food, which are nearly common, or at least not very
different, and then assimilate and convert them into their own
nature. Nor does this assimilation, or simple generation, take
place in animated bodies only, but the inanimate also participate
in the same property (as we have observed of flame and air), and
that languid spirit, which is contained in every tangible animated
substance, is perpetually working upon the coarser parts, and

BOOK II. J MOTION OF EXCI1EMENT. 547

converting them into spirit, which afterwards is exhaled, whence
ensues a diminution of weight, and a desiccation of which we
have spoken elsewhere.1 Nor should we, in speaking of assimi
lation, neglect to mention the accretion which is usually dis
tinguished from aliment, and which is observed when mud grows
into a mass between stones, and is converted into a stony sub
stance, and the scaly substance round the teeth is converted into
one no less hard than the teeth themselves ; for we are of opinion
that there exists in all bodies a desire of assimilation, as well as
of uniting with homogeneous masses. Each of these powers,
however, is confined, although in different manners, and should
be diligently investigated, because they are connected with the
revival of old age. Lastly, it is worthy of observation, that in
the nine preceding motions, bodies appear to aim at the mere
preservation of their nature, whilst in this they attempt its
propagation.

Let the twelfth motion be that of excitement, which appears
to be a species of the last, and is sometimes mentioned by us
under that name. It is, like that, a diffusive, communicative,
transitive, and multiplying motion ; and they agree remarkably
in their effect, although they differ in their mode of action, and
in their subject matter. The former proceeds imperiously, and
with authority ; it orders and compels the assimilated to be con
verted and changed into the assimilating body. The latter pro
ceeds by art, insinuation, and stealth, inviting and disposing the
excited towards the nature of the exciting body. The former
both multiplies and transforms bodies and substances ; thus a
greater quantity of flame, air, spirit, and flesh is formed ; but in
the latter, the powers only are multiplied and changed, and heat,
the magnetic power, and putrefaction, in the above instances, are
increased. Heat does not diffuse itself when heating other bodies
by any communication of the original heat, but only by exciting
the parts of the heated body to that motion which is the form of
heat, and of which we spoke in the first vintage of the nature of
heat. Heat, therefore, is excited much less rapidly and readily
in stone or metal than in air, on account of the inaptitude and
sluggishness of those bodies in acquiring that motion, so that it
is probable, that there may be some substances, towards the
centre of the earth, quite incapable of being heated, on account
of their density, which may deprive them of the spirit by which
the motion of excitement is usually commenced. Thus also the
magnet creates in the iron a new disposition of its parts, and a
conformable motion, without losing any of its virtue. So the
leaven of bread, yeast, rennet, and some poisons, excite and
invite successive and continued motion in dough, beer, cheese, of

• See the citing instances, Aphorism xL

2x2

548 KOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II,

the human body ; not so much from the power of the exciting, as
the predisposition and yielding of the excited body.

Let the thirteenth motion be that of impression, which is also
a species of motion of assimilation, and the most subtle of dif
fusive motions. We have thought it right, however, to consider
it as a distinct species, on account of its remarkable difference
i'rom the two last ; for the simple motion of assimilation trans
forms the bodies themselves, so that if you remove the first
agent, you diminish not the effect of those which succeed ; thus,
neither the first lighting of flame, nor the first conversion into
air, are of any importance to the flame or air next generated.
So, also, the motion of excitement still continues for a consider
able time after the removal of the first agent, as in a heated
body on the removal of the original heat, in the excited iron on
the removal of the magnet, and in the dough on the removal of
the leaven. But the motion of impression, although diffusive
and transitive, appears, nevertheless, to depend on the first
agent, so that upon the removal of the latter the former imme
diately fails and perishes ; for which reason also it takes effect
in a moment, or at least a very short space of time. We are
wont to call the two former motions the motions of the genera
tion of Jupiter, because when born they continue to exist ;
and the latter, the motion of the generation of Saturn, because
it is immediately devoured and absorbed. It may be seen
in three instances : 1. In the rays of light ; 2. in the percus
sions of sounds ; 3. in magnetic attractions as regards commu
nication. For, on the removal of light, colours and all its
other images disappear, as on the cessation of the first percussion
and the vibration of the body, sound soon fails, and although
sounds are agitated by the wind, like waves, yet it is to be ob
served, that the same sound does not last during the whole time of
the reverberation. Thus, when a bell is struck, the Round appears
to be continued for a considerable time, and one might easily be
led into the mistake of supposing it to float and remain in the
air during the whole time, which is most erroneous." For the
reverberation is not one identical sound, but the repetition of
§ounds, which is made manifest by stopping and confining the

* Aristotle's doctrine, that sound takes place when bodies strike the
Air, which the modern science of acoustics has completely established,
was rejected by Bacon in a treatise upon the same subject : " The collision
or thrusting of air," he says, " which they will have to be the cause of
sound, neither denotes the form nor the latent process of sound, but is
a term of ignorance and of superficial contemplation." To get out of
the difficulty, he betook himself to his theory of spirits, a species of
phenomena which he constantly introduces to give himself the air of
explaining things he could not understand, or would f \ admit upon
the hypothesis of his opponents. Ed.

BOOK II. J MOTION OF CONFIGURATION 549

sonorous body ; thus, if a bell be stopped and held tightly, so as
to be immovable, the sound fails, and there is no further rever
beration, and if a musical string be touched after the first vibra
tion, either with the finder (as in the harp), or a quill (as in the
harpsichord), the sound immediately ceases. If the magnet be
removed the iron falls. The moon, however, cannot be removed
from the sea, nor the earth from a heavy falling body, and we
can, therefore, make no experiment upon them ; but the case i§
the same.

Let the fourteenth motion be that configuration or position,
by which bodies appear to desire a peculiar situation, collocation,
ind configuration with others, rather than union or separation.
This is a very abstruse notion, and has not been well investi
gated ; and, in some instances, appears to occur almost without
any cause, although we be mistaken in supposing this to be
really the case. For if it be asked, why the heavens revolve
from east to west, rather than from west to east, or why they
turn on poles situate near the Bears, rather than round Orion or
any other part of the heaven, such a question appears to be
unreasonable, since these phenomena should be received as
determinate and the objects of our experience. There are, in
deed, some ultimate and self-existing phenomena in nature, but
those which we have just mentioned are not to be referred to
that class : for we attribute them to a certain harmony and con
sent of the universe, which has not yet been properly observed.
But if the motion of the earth from west to east be allowed, the
same question may be put, for it must also revolve round certain
poles, and why should they be placed where they are, rather than
elsewhere P The polarity and variation of the needle come under
our present head. There is also observed in both natural and
artificial bodies, especially solids rather than fluids, a particular
collocation and position 01 parts, resembling hairs or fibres, which
should be diligently investigated, since, without a discovery of
them, bodies cannot be conveniently controlled or wrought upon.
The eddies observable in liquids by which, when compressed,
they successively raise different parts of their mass before they
can escape, so as to equalize the pressure, is more correctly
assigned to the motion of liberty.

Let the fifteenth motion be that of transmission or of passage,
by which the powers of bodies are more or less impeded or
advanced by the medium, according to the nature of the bodies and
their effective powers, and also according to that of the medium.
For one medium is adapted to light, another to sound, another
to heat and cold, another to magnetic action, and so on with
regard to the other actions.

Let the sixteenth be that which we term the royal or political
motion, by which the predominant and governing parts of any

550 WOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK 1L

body check, subdue, reduce, and regulate the others, and force
them to unite, separate, stand still, move, or assume a certain
position, not from any inclination of their own, but according to
a certain order, and as best suits the convenience of the
governing part, so that there is a sort of dominion and civil
government exercised by the ruling part over its subjects. The
motion is very conspicuous in the spirits of animals, where, as
long as it is in force, it tempers all the motions of the other
parts. It is found in a less degree in other bodies, as we have
observed in blood and urine, which are not decomposed until
the spirit, -which mixed and retained their parts, has been emitted
or extinguished. Nor is this motion peculiar to spirits only,
although in most bodies the spirit predominates, owing to its
rapid motion and penetration ; for the grosser parts predominate
in denser bodies, which are not tilled with a quick and active
spirit (such as exists in quicksilver or vitriol), so that unless this
check or yoke be thrown off by some contrivance, there is no
hope of any transformation of such bodies. And let not any
one suppose that we have forgotten our subject, because we
speak of predominance in this classification ot motions, which is
made entirely with the view of assisting the investigation of
wrestling instances, or instances of predominance. For we do
not now treat of the general predominance of motions or powers,
but of that of parts in whole bodies, which constitutes the par
ticular species here considered.

Let the seventeenth motion be the spontaneous motion of
revolution, by which bodies having a tendency to move, and
placed in a favourable situation, enjoy their peculiar nature,
pursuing themselves and nothing else, and seeking, as it were, to
embrace themselves. For bodies seem either to move without
any limit, or to tend towards a limit, arrived at which they
either revolve according to their peculiar nature, or rest. Those
which are favourably situated, and have a tendency to motion,
move in a circle with an eternal and unlimited motion ; those which
are favourably situated and abhor motion, rest. Those which are
not favourably situated move in a straight line (as their shortest
path), in order to unite with others of a congenial nature. This
motion of revolution admits of nine differences : 1. with regard
to the centre about which the bodies move ; 2. the poles round
which they move ; 3. the circumference or orbit relatively to its
distance from the centre ; 4. the velocity, or greater or less
speed with which they revolve ; 5. the direction of the motion
as from east to west, or the reverse ; 6. the deviation from a
perfect circle, by spiral lines at a greater or less distance from
the centre ; 7. the deviation from the circle, by spiral lines at a
greater or less distance from the poles ; 8. the greater or less
distance of these spirals from each other; 9. and lastly. th«

BOOK H.] MOTION OF TREPIDATION. 551

variation of the polos if they be moveable ; which, nowever,
only affects revolution when circular. The motion in question
is, according to common and long-received opinion, considered to
be that of the heavenly bodies. There exists, however, with
regard to this, a considerable dispute between some ot the
ancients as well as moderns, who have attributed a motion of
revolution to the earth. A much more reasonable controversy,
perhaps, exists (if it be not a matter beyond dispute), whether
the motion in question (on the hypothesis of the earth's being
fixed) is confined to the heavens, or rather descends and is com
municated to the air and water. The rotation of missiles, as in
darts, musket-balls, and the like, we refer entirely to the motion
of liberty.

Let the eighteenth motion be that of trepidation,* to which (in
the sense assigned to it by astronomers) we do not give much
credit ; but in our serious and general search after the tendencies
of natural bodies, this motion occurs, and appears worthy of
forming a distinct species. It is the motion of an (as it were)
eternal captivity ; when bodies, for instance, being placed
not altogether according to their nature, and yet not exactly ill,
constantly tremble, and are restless, not contented with their
position, and yet not daring to advance. Such is the motion of
the heart and pulse of animals, and it must necessarily occur in
all bodies which are situated in a mean state, between con
veniences and inconveniences ; so that being removed from their
proper position, they strive to escape, are repulsed, and again
continue to make the attempt.

Let the nineteenth and last motion be one which can scarcely
be termed a motion, and yet is one ; and which we may call the
motion of repose, or of abhorrence of motion. It is by this
motion that the earth stands by its own weight, whilst its ex
tremes move towards the middle, not to an imaginary centre,
but in order to unite. It is owing to the same tendency, that all
bodies of considerable density abhor motion, and their only
tendency is not to move, whicn nature they preserve, although
excited and urged in a variety of ways to motion. But if they
be compelled to move, yet do they always appear anxious to
recover their former state, and to cease from motion, in which
respect they certainly appear active, and attempt it with sufficient
swiftness and rapidity, as if fatigued, and impatient of delay.
We can only have a partial representation of this tendency,
because with us every tangible substance is not only not con-

* The motion of trepidation, as Bacon calls it, was attributed by the
ancient astronomers to the eight spheres, relative to the precession of tha
equinoxes. Galileo was the first to observe this kind of lunar motion,
Ed.

NOVUM OROANUM. [BOOK II

densed to the utmost, but even some spirit is added, owing to
the action and concocting influence of the heavenly bodies.

We have now, therefore, exhibited the species, or simple
elements of the motions, tendencies, and active powers, which
are most universal in nature ; and no small portion of natural
science has been thus sketched out. We do not, however, deny
that other instances can perhaps be added, and our divisions
changed according to some more natural order of things, and
also reduced to a less number ; in which respect we do not allude
to any abstract classification, as if one were to say, that bodies
desire the preservation, exaltation, propagation, or fruition of
their nature ; or, that motion tends to the preservation and
benefit either of the universe (as in the case of those of re
sistance and connection), or of extensive wholes, as in the case of
those of the greater congregation, revolution, and abhorrence of
motion, or of particular forms, as in the case of the others.
For although such remarks be just, yet, unless they terminate
in matter and construction, according to true definitions, they
are speculative, and of little use. In the mean time, our
classification will suffice, and be of much use in the consideration
of the predominance of powers, and examining the wrestling
instances which constitute our present subject.

For of the motions here laid down, some are quite invincible,
some more powerful than others, which they confine, check, and
modify ; others extend to a greater distance, others are more
immediate and swift, others strengthen, increase, and accelerate
the rest.

The motion of resistance is most adamantine and invincible.
We are yet in doubt whether such be thp nature of that of con
nection ; for we cannot with certainty determine whether there
be a vacuum, either extensive or intermixed with matter. Of
one thing, however, we are satisfied, that the reason assigned by
Leucippus and Democritus for the introduction of a vacuum
(namely, that the same bodies could not otherwise comprehend,
and fill greater and less spaces) is false. For there is clearly a
folding of matter, by which it wraps and unwraps itself in space
within certain limits, without the intervention of a vacuum.
Nor is there two thousand times more of vacuum in air than in
gold, as there should be on this hypothesis ; a fact demonstrated
by the very powerful energies of fluids (which would otherwise
float like fine dust in vacuo), and many other proofs. The other
motions direct, and are directed by each other, according to
their strength, quantity, excitement, emission, or the assistance
or impediments they meet with.

For instance ; some armed magnets hold and support iron of
eixty times their own weight ; so far does the motion of lesser
congregation predominate over that of the greater ; but if the
weight be increased, it yields. A lever of a certain strength

BOOK II.] INSTANCES OF PREDOMINANCE 653

will raise a given weight, and so far the motion of liberty pre
dominates over that of the greater congregation, but if the
weight be greater, the former motion yields. A piece of leather
stretched to a certain point does not break, and so far the
motion of continuity predominates over that of tension, but if
the tension be greater, the leather breaks, and the motion of
continuity yields. A certain quantity of water flows through a
chink, and so far the motion of greater congregation pre
dominates over that of continuity, but if the chink be
smaller it yields. If a musket be charged with ball and
powdered sulphur alone, and fire be applied, the ball is not dis
charged, in which case the motion of greater congregation over
comes that of matter; but when gunpowder is used, the motion
of matter in the sulphur predominates, being assisted by that
motion, and the motion of avoidance in the nitre ; and so of the
rest. For wrestling instances (which show the predominance of
powers, and in what manner and proportion they predominate and
yield) must be searched for with active and industrious diligence.

The methods and nature of this yielding must also be dili
gently examined, as for instance, whether the motions completely
cease, or exert themselves, but are constrained. For in the
bodies with which we are acquainted, there is no real but an
apparent rest, either in the whole or in parts. This apparent
rest is occasioned either by equilibrium, or the absolute pre
dominance of motions. By equilibrium, as in the scales of the
balance, which rest if the weights be equal. By predominance, as
in perforated jars, in which the water rests, and is prevented from
falling by the predominance of the motion of connection. It is,
however, to be observed (as we have said before), how far the
yielding motions exert themselves. For if a man be held
stretched out on the ground against his will, with arms and legs
bound down, or otherwise confined, and yet strive with all his
power to get up, the struggle is not the less, although ineffectual
The real state of the case (namely, whether the yielding motion
be, as it were, annihilated by the predominance, or there be
rather a continued, although an invisible effort) will, perhaps,
appear in the concurrence of motions, although it escape our
notice in their conflict. For instance ; let an experiment be
made with muskets ; whether a musket-ball, at its utmost range
in a straight line, or (as it is commonly called) point blank, strike
with less force when projected upwards, where the motion of the
blow is simple, than when projected downwards, where the
motion of gravity concurs with the blow.

The rules of such instances of predominance as occur should
be collected : such as the following ; the more general the
desired advantage is, the stronger will be the motion; tho
motion of connection, for instance, which relates to the in>r-
course of the parts of the universe. i« more powerful than thai

554 NOVUM ORGANUM. [BOOK II

of gravity, which relates to the intercourse of dense bodies only
Again, tlie desire of a private good does not in general prevail
against that of a public one, except where the quantities are
small. Would that such were the case in civil matters !

XLIX. In the twenty-fifth rank of prerogative instances we
will place suggesting instances ; such as suggest, or point out,
that which is advantageous to mankind; for bare power and
knowledge in themselves exalt rather than enrich human nature.
We must, therefore, select from the general store, such things as
are most useful to mankind. We shall have a better opportunity
ot discussing these when we treat of the application to practice .
besides, in the work of interpretation, we leave room, on every
subject, for the human or optative chart ; for it is a part of
science to make judicious inquiries and wishes.

L. In the twenty-sixth rank of prerogative instances we will
place the generally useful instances. They are such as relate to
various points, and frequently occur, sparing by that means con
siderable labour and new trials. The proper place for treating
of instruments and contrivances, will be that in which we speak
of the application to practice, and the methods of experiment.
All that lias hitherto been ascertained, and made use of, will be
described in the particular history of each art. At present, we
will subjoin a few general examples of the instances in question.

Man acts, then, upon natural bodies (besides merely bringing
them together or removing them) by seven principal methods :
1. By the exclusion of all that impedes and disturbs ; 2. by
compression, extension, agitation, and the like ; 3. by heat and
cold; 4. by detention in a suitable place; 5. by checking or
directing motion ; 6. by peculiar harmonies ; 7. by a seasonable
and proper alternation, series, and succession of all these, or, at
least, of some of them.

1. With regard to the first, — common air, which is always at
hand, and forces its admission, as also the rays of the heavenly
bodies, create much distv. dance. Whatever, therefore, tends to
exclude them may well be considered as generally useful. The
substance and thickness of vessels in which bodies are placed
when prepared for operations may be referred to this head. So
also may the accurate methods of closing vessels by consolida
tion, or the lutum sapientia, as the chemists call it. The exclu
sion of air by means of liquids at the extremity is also very use
ful, as when they pour oil on wine, or the juices of herbs, which
by spreading itself upon the top like a cover, preserves them
uninjured from the air. Powders, also, are serviceable, for
although they contain air mixed up in them, yet they ward off
the power of the mass of circumambient air, which is seen in the
preservation of grapes and other fruits in sand or flour. Wax,
Loney, pitch, and other resinous bodies, are well used in ordef

BOOK II.] HERMETICAL CLOSING 555

to make the exclusion more perfect, and to remove the air and
celestial influence. We have sometimes made an experiment by
placing a vessel or other bodies in quicksilver, the most dense of
all substances capable of being poured round others. Grottos
and subterraneous caves are of great use in keeping off the
effects ot the sun, and the predatory action of air, and in the
north of Germany are used for granaries. The depositing of
bodies at the bottom of water may be also mentioned here ; and
I remember having heard of some bottles of wine being let down
into a deep well in order to cool them, but left there by chance,
carelessness, and forgetfulness for several years, and then taken
out ; by which means the wine not only escaped becoming flat
or dead, but was much more excellent in flavour, arising (as it
appears) from a more complete mixture ol its parts. But if the
case require that bodies should be sunk to the bottom of water,
as in rivers or the sea, and yet should not touch the water, nor
be inclosed in sealed vessels, but surrounded only by air, it
would be right to use that vessel which has been sometimes
employed under water above ships that have sunk, in order to
enable the divers to remain below and breathe occasionally by
turns. It was of the following nature: — A hollow tub of metal
was formed, and sunk so as to have its bottom parallel with the
surface of the water; it thus carried down with it to the bottom
of the sea all the air contained in the tub. It stood upon three
feet (like a tripod), being of rather less height than a man, so
that, when the diver was in want of breath, he could put his
head into the hollow of the tub, breathe, and then continue his
work. We hear that some sort of boat or vessel has now been
invented, capable of carrying men some distance under water.
Any bodies, however, can easily be suspended under some such
vessel as we have mentioned, which has occasioned our remarks
upon the experiment.

Another advantage of the careful and hermetical closing of
bodies is this, — not only the admission of external air is pre
vented (of which we have treated), but the spirit of bodies also
is prevented from making its escape, which is an internal opera
tion. For any one operating on natural bodies must be certain
as to their quantity, and that nothing has evaporated or escaped,
since profound alterations take place in bodies, when art pre
vents the loss or escape of any portion, whilst nature prevents
their annihilation. With regard to this circumstance, a false
idea has prevailed (which if true would make us despair of pre
serving quantity without diminution), namely, that the spirit of
bodies, and air when rarefied by a great degree of heat, cannot
be so kept in by being inclosed in any vessel as not to escape by
the small pores. Men are led into this idea by the common
experiments of a cup inverted over water, with a candle or

556 NOVUM OROANUM. [BOOK IL

piece of lighted paper in it, by which the water is drawn up, and
of those cups which, when heated, draw up the flesh. For they
think that in each experiment the rarefied air escapes, and that
its quantity is therefore diminished, by which means the water
or flesh rises by the motion of connection. This is, however,
most incorrect. For the air is not diminished in quantity, but
contracted in dimensions/ nor does this motion of the rising of
the water begin till the flame is extinguished, or the air cooled,
so that physicians place cold sponges, moistened with water, on
the cups, in order to increase their attraction. There is, there
fore, no reason why men should fear much from the ready escape
of air : for although it be true that the most solid bodies have
their pores, yet neither air, nor spirit, readily suffers itself to be
rarefied to such an extreme degree; just as water will not
escape by a small chink.

2. With regard to the second of the seven above-mentioned
methods, we must especially observe, that compression and
similar violence have a most powerful effect either in producing
locomotion, and other motions of the same nature, as may be
observed in engines and projectiles, or in destroying the organic
body, and those qualities, which consist entirely in motion (for all
life, and every description of flame and ignition are destroyed
by compression, which also injures and deranges every machine) ;
or in destroying those qualities which consist in position and a
coarse difference of parts, as in colours ; for the colour of a
flower when whole, differs from that it presents when bruised,
and the same may be observed of whole and powdered amber ;
or in tastes, for the taste of a pear before it is ripe, and of the
same pear when bruised and softened, is different, since it
becomes perceptibly more sweet. But such violence is of little
avail in the more noble transformations and changes of homo
geneous bodies, for they do not, by such means, acquire any
constantly and permanently new state, but one that is transitory,
and always struggling to return to its former habit and freedom.
It would not, however, be useless to make some more diligent
experiments with regard to this ; whether, for instance, the
condensation of a perfectly homogeneous body (such as air,
water, oil, and the like) or their rarefaction, wnen effected by
violence, can become permanent, fixed, and, as it were, so
changed, as to become a nature. This might at first be tried by
simple perseverance, and then by means of helps and harmonies.
It might readily have been attempted (if we had but thought of

7 Part of the air is expanded and escapes, and part is consumed by
the flame. When condensed, therefore, by the cold application, it can-
not offer sufficient resistance to the external atmosphere to prevent the
liquid or flesh from being foro*J into the

BOOK II.] CONDENSATION. 557

it), when we condensed water (as was mentioned above), by
hammering and compression, until it burst out. For we ought
to have left the flattened globe untouched for some days, and
then to have drawn off the water, in order to try whether it
would have immediately occupied the same dimensions as it did
before the condensation. If it had not done so, either imme
diately, or soon afterwards, the condensation would have
appeared to have been rendered constant'; if not, it would have
appeared that a restitution took place, and that the condensation
had been transitory. Something of the same kind might have
been tried with the glass eggs ; the egg should have been sealed
up suddenly and firmly, after a complete exhaustion of the air,
and should have been allowed to remain so for some days, and
it might then have been tried whether, on opening the aperture,
the air would be drawn in with a hissing noise, or whether as
much water would be drawn into it when immersed, as would
have been drawn into it at first, if it had not continued sealed.
For it is probable (or, at least, worth making the experiment)
that this might have happened, or might happen, because per
severance has a similar effect upon bodies which are a little less
homogeneous. A stick bent together for some time does not
rebound, which is not owing to any loss of quantity in the wood
during the time, for the same would occur (after a larger time)
in a plate of steel, which does not evaporate. If the experiment
of simple perseverance should fail, the matter should not be
given up, but other means should be emploved. For it would
be no small advantage, if bodies could be endued with fixed and
constant natures by violence. Air could then be converted into
water by condensation, with other similar effects ; for man is
more the master of violent motions than of any other means.

3. The third of our seven methods is referred to that great
practical engine of nature, as well as of art, cold and heat.
Here, man's power limps, as it were, with one leg. For we
possess the heat of fire, which is infinitely more powerful and
intense than that of the sun (as it reaches us), and that of
animals. But we want cold,z except such as we can obtain in
winter, in caverns, or by surrounding objects with snow and ice,
which, perhaps, may be compared in degree with the noontide
heat of the sun in tropical countries, increased by the reflection
of mountains and walls. For this degree of heat and cold cai
be borne for a short period only by animals, yet it is nothing
compared with the heat of a burning furnace, or the correspond
ing degree of cold.a Everything with us has a tendency to

* Heat can r.ow be abstracted by a very simple process, till th«
degree of cold be of almost any required intensity.

* It ia impossible to compare a degree of heat with a degree of oold,

558 KOVUM ORGAN UM. [BOOK IL

become rarefied, dry, and wasted, and nothing to become con
densed or soft, except by mixtures, and, as it were, spurious
methods. Instances ot cold, therefore, should be searched for
most diligently, such as may be found by exposing bodies upon
buildings in a hard frost, in subterraneous caverns, by surround
ing bodies with snow and ice in deep places excavated for that
purpose, by letting bodies down into wells, by burying bodies in
quicksilver and metals, by immersing them in streams which
petrify wood, by burying them in the earth (which the Chinese
are reported to do with their china, masses of which, made for
that purpose, are said to remain in the ground for forty or fifty
years, and to be transmitted to their heirs as a sort of artificial
mine), and the like. The condensations which take place in
nature, by means of cold, should also be investigated, that by
learning their causes, they may be introduced into the arts ;
such as are observed in the exudation of marble and stones, in
the dew upon the panes of glass in a room towards morning
after a frosty night, in the formation and the gathering of
vapours under the earth into water, whence spring fountains,
and the like.

Besides the substances which are cold to the touch, there are
others which have also the effect of cold, and condense ; they
appear, however, to act only upon the bodies ot animals, and
scarcely any further. OF these we have many instances, in
medicines and plasters. Some condense the flesh and tangible
parts, such as astringent and inspissating medicines, others the
spirits, such as soporifics. There are two modes of condensing
the spirits, by soporifics or provocatives to sleep ; the one by
calming the motion, the other by expelling the spirit. The
violet, dried roses, lettuces, and other benign or mild remedies,
by their friendly and gently cooling vapours, invite the spirits to
unite, and restrain their violent and perturbed motion. Rose-
water, for instance, applied to the nostrils in fainting fits, causes
the resolved and relaxed spirits to recover themselves, and, as it
were, cherishes them. But opiates, and the like, banish the
spirits by their malignant and hostile quality. If they be ap
plied, therefore, externally, the spirits immediately quit the part
and no longer readily flow into it ; but if they be taken inter
nally, their vapour, mounting to the head, expels, in all direc-
^ons, the spirits contained in the ventricles of the brain, and

without the assumption of some arbitrary test, to which the degrees are
to be referred. In the next sentence Bacon appears to have taken the
power of animal life to support heat or cold as the test, and then the
comparison can only be between the degree oi heat or of cold that w:K
produce death.

The zero must be arbitrary which divides equally a certain degree ut'
heat horn a certain degree of cold.

BOOK LL] CONDENSATION. 559

since these spirits retreat, but cannot escape, they consequently
meet and are condensed, and are sometimes completely extin
guished and suffocated ; although the same opiates, when taken
in moderation, by a secondary accident (the condensation which
succeeds their union), strengthen the spirits, render them more
robust, and check their useless and inflammatory motion, by
which means they contribute not a little to the cure of diseases,
and the prolongation of life.

The preparations of bodies, also, for the reception of cold
should not be omitted, such as that water a little warmed is more
easily frozen than that which is quite cold, and the like.

Moreover, since nature supplies cold so sparingly, we must
act like the apothecaries, who, when they cannot obtain any
simple ingredient, take a succedaneum, or quid pro quo, as they
term it, such as aloes for xylobalsamum, cassia for cinnamon.
In the same manner we should look diligently about us, to ascer
tain whether there may be any substitutes for cold, that is to
say, in what other manner condensation can be effected, which is
the peculiar operation of. cold. Such condensations appear
hitherto to be of four kinds only. 1. By simple compression,
which is of little avail towards permanent condensation, on,
account of the elasticity of substances, but may still however be
of some assistance. 2. By the contraction of the coarser, after
the escape or departure of the finer parts of a given body ; as is
exemplified in induration by fire, and the repeated heating and
extinguishing of metals, and the like. 3. By the cohesion of the
most solid homogeneous parts of a given body, which were pre
viously separated, and mixed with others less solid, as in the
return of sublimated mercury to its simple state, in which it
occupies much less space than it did in powder, and the same may
be observed of the cleansing of all metals from their dross.
4. By harmony or the application of substances which condense
by some latent power. These harmonies are as yet but rarely
observed, at which we cannot be surprised, since there is little to
hope for from their investigation, unless the discovery of forms
and confirmation be attained. With regard to animal bodies, it
is not to be questioned that there are many internal and external
medicines which condense by harmony, as we have before ob
served, but this action is rare in inanimate bodies. Written
accounts, as well as report, have certainly spoken of a tree in
one of the Tercera or Canary Islands (for I do not exactly recol
lect which) that drips perpetually, so as to supply the inhabit
ants, in some degree, with water ; and Paracelsus says that the
herb called ros solis is filled with dew at noon, whilst the sun
gives out its greatest heat, and all other herbs around it are dry.
We treat both these accounts as fables ; they would, however, if
true, be of the most important service, and most worthy oi

560 NOVUM ORUANUM. [BOOK II

examination. As to the honey-dew, resembling manna, which if
found in May on the leaves of the oak, we are of opinion that it
is not condensed by any harmony or peculiarity of the oak leaf,
but that whilst it falls equally upon other leaves it is retained
and continues on those of the oak, because their texture is closer,
and not so porous as that of most of the other leaves.b

With regard to heat, man possesses abundant means and
power ; but his observation and inquiry are defective in some
respects, and those of the greatest importance, notwithstanding
the boasting of quacks. For the effects of intense heat are
examined and observed, whilst those of a more gentle degree of
heat, being of the most frequent occurrence in the paths of
nature, are, on that very account, least known. We see, there
fore, the furnaces, which are most esteemed, employed in in
creasing the spirits of bodies to a great extent, as in the strong
acids, and some chymical oils ; whilst the tangible parts are
hardened, and, when the volatile part has escaped, become some
times fixed ; the homogeneous parts are separated, and the hete
rogeneous incorporated and agglomerated in a coarse lump ; and
(what is chiefly worthy of remark) the junction of compound
bodies, and the more delicate conformations are destroyed and
confounded. But the operation of a less violent heat should be
tried and investigated, by which more delicate mixtures, and
regular conformations may be produced and elicited, according
to the example of nature, and in imitation of the effect of the
Bun, which we have alluded to in the aphorism on the instances
of alliance. For the works of nature are carried on in much
smaller portions, and in more delicate and varied positions
than those of fire, as we now employ it. But man will then
appear to have really augmented his power, when the works of
nature can be imitated in species, perfected in power, and varied
in quantity ; to which should be added the acceleration in point
of time. Kust, for instance, is the result of a long process, but
crocus martis is obtained immediately ; and the same may be
observed of natural verdigris and ceruse. Crystal is formed
slowly, whilst glass is blown immediately : stones increase
slowly, whilst bricks arc baked immediately, &c. In the mean
time (with regard to our present subject) every different species
of heat should, with its peculiar effects, be diligently collected
and inquired into; that of the heavenly bodies, whether their
rays be direct, reflected, or refracted, or condensed by a burning-
glass ; that of lightning, flame, and ignited charcoal ; that of fire
of different materials, either open or confined, straitened or
overflowing, qualified by the different forms of the furnaces,
excited by the bellows, or quiescent, removed to a greater or lesi

fc Jt may often be observed on the leaves of the lime and other tree*

BOOK II. | CONTIirUANCa. 561

distance, or passing through different media ; moist heats, such
as the balneum Maria, and the dunghill ; the external and internal
heat of animals ; dry heats, such as the heat of ashes, lime,
warm sand ; in short, the nature of every kind of heat, and its
degrees.

We should, however, particularly attend to the investigation
and discovery of the effects and operations of heat, when made
to approach and retire by degrees, regularly, periodically, and
by proper intervals of space and time. For this systematical
inequality is in truth the daughter of heaven and mother of
generation, nor can any great result be expected from a vehe
ment, precipitate, or desultory heat. For this is not only most
evident in vegetables, but in the wombs of animals also there
arises a great inequality of heat, from the motion, sleep, food,
and passions of the female. The same inequality prevails in.
those subterraneous beds where metals and fossils are perpetually
forming, which renders yet more remarkable the ignorance of
some of the reformed alchymists, who imag'aed they could
attain their object by the equable heat of lamps, or the like,
burning uniformly. Let this suffice concerning the operation
and effects of heat ; nor is it time for us to investigate them
thoroughly before the forms and conformations of bodies have
been further examined and brought to light. When we have
determined upon our models, we may seek, apply, and arrange
our instruments.

4. The fourth mode of action is by continuance, the very
steward and almoner, as it were, of nature. We apply the term
continuance to the abandonment of a body to itself for an ob
servable time, guarded and protected in the meanwhile from all
external force. For the internal motion then commences to
betray and exert itself when the external and adventitious is
removed. The effects of time, however, are far more delicate
than those of fire. Wine, for instance, cannot be clarified by
lire as it is by continuance. Nor are the ashes produced by
combustion so fine as the particles dissolved or wasted by the
lapse of ages. The incorporations and mixtures, which arc hurried
by fire, arc very inferior to those obtained by continuance ; and
the various conformations assumed by bodies left to themselves,
such as moukliness, &c., are put a stop to by fire or a strong
heat. _ It is not, in the mean time, unimportant to remark that
there is a certain degree of violence in the motion of bodies
entirely confined ; for the confinement impedes the proper motion
of the body. Continuance in an open vessel, therefore, is useful
for separations, and in one hermetically sealed for mixtures, that
in a vessel partly closed, but admitting the air, for putrefaction.
But instances of the operation and effect of continuance must ba
collected diligently from every quarter

661} KOVtJM OKGANUM. f«OOK II.

5. The direction of molion (which is the fifth method of
nction) is of no small use. We adopt this term, when speaking
of a body which, meeting with another, either arrests, repels,
allows, or directs its original motion. This is the case principally
in the figure and position of vessels. An upright cone, for
instance, promotes the condensation of vapour in alembics, but
when reversed, as in inverted vessels, it assists the refining of
sugar. Sometimes a curved form, or one alternately contracted
and dilated, is required. Strainers may be ranged under this
head, where the opposed body opens a way for one portion of
another substance and impedes the rest. Nor is this process or
any other direction of motion carried on externally only, but
sometimes by one body within another. Thus, pebbles are thrown
into water to collect the muddy particles, and syrups are refined
by the white of an egg, which glues the grosser particles together
so as to facilitate their removal. Telesius, indeed, rashly and
ignorantly enough attributes the ibrmation of animals to this
cause, by means of the channels and folds of the womb. He
-night to have observed a similar formation of the young in eggs
which have no wrinkles or inequalities. One may observe a real
result of this direction of motion in casting and modelling.

6. The effects produced by harmony and aversion (which is
the sixth method) are frequently buried in obscurity ; for these
occult and specific properties (as they are termed), the sympathies
and antipathies, arc for the most part but a corruption of philo
sophy. JN"or can we form any great expectation of the discovery
of the harmony which exists between natural objects, before that
of their forms and simple conformations, for it is nothing more
than the symmetry between these forms and conformations.

The greater and more universal species of harmony are not,
however, so wholly obscure, and with them, therefore, we must
commence. The first and principal distinction between them is
this ; that some bodies differ considerably in the abundance and
rarity of their substance, but correspond in their conformation ;
others, on the contrary, correspond in the former and differ in
the latter. Thus the chymists have well observed, that in their
trial of first principles sulphur and mercury, as it were, pervade
the universe ? their reasoning about salt, however, is absurd, and
merely introduced to comprise earthy dry fixed bodies. In the
other two, indeed, one of the most universal species of natural
harmony manifests itself. Thus there is a correspondence be
tween sulphur, oil, greasy exhalations, flame, and, perhaps, the
substance of the stars. On the other hand, there is a like cor
respondence between mercury, water, aqueous vapour, air, and
perhaps, pure inter-sideral aether. Yet do these two quaternions,
or great natural tribes (each within its own limits), differ im
mensely in quantity and density of substance, whilst they gene*

BOOK II.] HARMOITY OF BODIES. 663

?ally agree in conformation, as is manifest in many instances.
On the other hand, the metals agree in such quantity and
density (especially when compared with vegetables, &c.), but
differ in many respects in conformation. Animals and vegetables,
in like manner, vary in their almost infinite modes of confor
mation, but range within very limited degrees of quantity and
density of substance.

The next most general correspondence is that between indi
vidual bodies and those which supply them by way of menstruum
or support. Inquiry, therefore, must be made as to the climate,
soil, and depth at which each metal is generated, and the same
of gems, whether produced in rocks or mines, also as to the soil
in which particular trees, shrubs, and herbs, mostly grow and,
as it were, delight ; and as to the best species of manure, whether
dung, chalk, sea sand, or ashes, &c., and their different propriety
and advantage according to the variety of soils. So also the
grafting and setting of trees and plants (as regards the readiness
of grafting one particular species on another) depends very much
upon harmony, and it would be amusing to try an experiment
I have lately heard of, in grafting forest trees (garden trees alono
having hitherto been adopted), by which means the leaves and
fruit are enlarged, and the trees produce more shade. The
specific food of animals again should be observed, as well as that
which cannot be used. Thus the carnivorous cannot be fed on
herbs, for which reason the order of feuilletans, the experiment
having been made, has nearly vanished; human nature being
incapable of supporting their regimen, although the human wili
has more power over the bodily frame than that of other animals.
The different kinds of putrefaction from which animals are
generated should be noted.

The harmony of principal bodies with those subordinate to
them (such indeed may be deemed those we have alluded to
above) are sufficiently manifest, to which may be added those
that exist between different bodies and their objects, and, since
these latter are more apparent, they may throw great light when
well observed arid diligently examined upon those which are
more latent.

The more internal harmony and aversion, or friendship and
enmity (for superstition and folly have rendered the terms of
sympathy and antipathy almost disgusting), have been either
falsely assigned, or mixed with fable, or most rarely discovered
from neglect. For if one were to allege that there is an enmity
between the vine and the cabbage, because they will not come
up well when sown together, there is a sufficient reason for it
in the succulent and absorbent nature of each plant, so that
the one defrauds the other. Again, if one were to say that
there is a harmony and friendship between the corn and

664: NOVUM OUGANUM. [BOOK II.

the corn-flower, or the wild poppy, because the latter seldom
grow anywhere but in cultivated soils, he ought rather to say,
there is an enmity between them, for the poppy and the corn
flower are produced and created by those juices which the corn
has left and rejected, so that the sowing of the corn prepares the
ground for their production. And there are a vast number of
similar false assertions. As for fables, they must be totally ex
terminated. There remains, then, but a scanty supply of such
species of harmony as has borne the test of experiment, such as
that between the magnet and iron, gold and quicksilver, and the
like. In chemical experiments on metals, however, there are
some others worthy of notice, but the greatest abundance
(where the whole are so few in numbers) is discovered in certain
medicines, which, from their occult and specific qualities (as they
are termed), affect particular limbs, humours, diseases, or con
stitutions. Nor should we omit the harmony between the
motion and phenomena of the moon, and their effects on lower
bodies, which may bo brought together by an accurate and
honest selection from the experiments of agriculture, navigation,
and medicine, or of other sciences. By as much as these
general instances, however, of more latent harmony, are rare,
with so much the more diligence are they to be inquired after,
through tradition, and faithful and honest reports, but without
rashness and credulity, with an anxious and, as it were, hesita
ting degree of reliance. There remains one species of harmony
which, though simple in its mode ot action, is yet most valuable
in its use, and must by no means be omitted, but rather dili
gently investigated. It is the ready or difficult coition or union
of bodies in composition, or simple juxta-position. For some
bodies readily and willingly mix, and are incorporated, others
tardily and perversely; thus powders mix best with water,
chalk and ashes with oils, and the like. Nor are these instances
of readiness and aversion to mixture to be alone collected, but
others, also, of the collocation, distribution, and digestion of the
parts when mingled, and the predominance after the mixture is
complete

7. Lastly, there remains the seventh, and last of the seven,
modes of action; namely, that by the alternation and interchange
of the other six ; but of this, it will not be the right time to
offer any examples, until some deeper investigation shall have
taken place of each of the others. The series, or chain of this
alternation, in its mode of application to separate effects, is no less
powerful in its operation, than difficult to be traced. But men
are possessed with the most extreme impatience, both of such
inquiries, and their practical application, although it be the cluo
of the labyrinth in all greater works. Thus f.i.r of the generally
useful ipsta,nce«.

BOOK II.] MAGICAL INSTANCES. 565

' LI. The twenty-seventh and last place we will assign to the
magical instances, a term which we apply to those where the
matter or efficient agent is scanty or small, in comparison with
the grandeur of the work or effect produced ; so that even when
common they appear miraculous, some at first sight, others even
upon more attentive observation. Nature, however, of herself,
supplies these but sparingly. What she will do when her whole
store is thrown open, and after the discovery of forms, processes,
and conformation, will appear hereafter. As far as we can yet
conjecture, these magic effects are produced in three ways,
either by self-multiplication, as in fire, and the poisons termed
specific, and the motions transferred and multiplied from wheel
to wheel ; or by the excitement, or, as it were, invitation of
another substance, as in the magnet, which excites innumerable
needles without losing or diminishing its power ; and again in
leaven, and the like ; or by the excess of rapidity of one species
of motion over another, as has been observed in the case of gun
powder, cannon, and mines. The two former require an investi
gation of harmonies, the latter of a measure of motion. Whether
there be any mode of changing bodies per minima (as it is
termed), and transferring the delicate conformations of matter,
which is of importance in all transformations of bodies, so as to
enable art to effect, in a short time, that which nature works out
by divers expedients, is a point of which we have as yet no in
dication. But, as we aspire to the extremest and highest
results in that which is solid and true, so do we ever detest, and,
as far as in us lies, expel all that is empty and vain.

LIT. Let this suftice as to the respective dignity of pre
rogatives of instances. But it must be noted, that in this our
organ, we treat of logic, and not of philosophy. Seeing, how
ever, that our logic instructs and informs the understanding, in
order that it may not, with the small hooks, as it were, of the
mind, catch at, and grasp mere abstractions, but rather actually
penetrate nature, and discover the properties and effects of
todies, and the determinate laws of their substance (so that this
science of ours springs from the nature of things, as well as
from that of the mind) ; it is not to be wondered at, if it have
been continually interspersed and illustrated with natural obser
vations and experiments, as instances of our method. The pre
rogative instances are, as appears from what has preceded,
twenty-seven in number, and are termed, solitary instances,
migrating instances, conspicuous instances, clandestine instances,
constitutive instances, similar instances, singular instances, de
viating instances, bordering instances, instances of power, accom
panying and hostile instances, subjunctive instances, instances of
alliance, instances of the cross, instances of divorce, instances
pi' the gate, citing instances, instances of the road, supple-

566 NOVUH ORGANUM. ^BOOK II.

mentary instances, laucing instances, instances of the rod, in
stances of the course, doses of nature, wrestling instances,
suggesting instances, generally useful instances, and magical in
stances. The advantage, by which these instances excel the
more ordinary, regards specifically either theory or practice, or
both. With regard to theory, they assist either the senses or
the understanding ; the senses, as in the five instances of the
lamp ; the understanding, either by expediting the exclusive
mode of arriving at the form, as in solitary instances, or by con
fining, and more immediately indicating the affirmative, as in the
migrating, conspicuous, accompanying, and subjunctive in
stances ; or by elevating the understanding, and leading it to
general and common natures, and that either immediately, as
in the clandestine and singular instances, and those of alliance ;
or very nearly so, as in the constitutive ; or still less so, as in
the similar instances ; or by correcting the understanding of its
habits, as in the deviating instances ; or by leading to the grand
form or fabric of the universe, as in the bordering instances ; or
by guarding it from false forms and causes, as in those of the
cross and of divorce. With regard to practice, they either point
it out, or measure, or elevate it. They point it out, either by
showing where we must commence in order not to repeat the
labours of others, as in the instances of power ; or by inducing
us to aspire to that which may be possible, as in the suggesting
instances ; the four mathematical instances measure it. The
generally useful and the magical elevate it.

Again, out of these twenty-seven instances, some must be
collected immediately, without waiting for a particular investi
gation of properties. Such are the similar, singular, deviating,
and bordering instances, those of power, and of the gate, and
suggesting, generally useful, and magical instances ; for these
either assist and cure the understanding and senses, or furnish
our general practice. The remainder are to be collected when
we finish our synoptical tables for the work of the interpreter,
upon any particular nature ; for these instances, honoured and
gifted with such prerogatives, are like the soul amid the vulgar
crowd of instances, and (as we from the first observed) a few of
them are worth a multitude of the others. When, therefore, we
are forming our tables they must be searched out with the
greatest zeal, and placed in the table. And, since mention must
be made of them in what follows, a treatise upon their nature
has necessarily been prefixed. We must next, however, proceed
to the supports and corrections of induction, and thence to con
cretes, the latent process, and latent conformations, and 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 ^ield up their fortune to mankind, upon the emancipa-

BOOK II.] MAN AND NATURE. 567

tion and majority of their understanding ; from \vliich must
necessarily follow an improvement of their estate, and an increase
of their power over nature. For man, by the fall, lost at once V
his state of innocence, and hfs empire over creation, both of
'which can be partially recovered even in this life, the first by
religion and faith, the second by th&._arjt? ancL.sciences. For
creation did not become entirely and utterly rebellious by the
curse, but in consequence of the Divine decree, " in the sweat of
thy brow shalt thou eat bread," she is compelled by our labours
(not assuredly by our disputes or magical ceremonies), at length,
to afford mankind in some degree his bread, that ia to say, to
gupply man's daily wants.

THE END.

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