Se

oa

LORD BACON’S WORKS.
VOLUME THE FOURTEENTH.

CONTAINING
TRANSLATION OF THE NOVUM ORGANUM,

AND OF THOUGHTS
ON THE NATURE OF THINGS.

THE WORKS

FRANCIS BACON,
Lor Chancellor of England.

A NEW EDITION:

BY

BASIL MONTAGU, ESQ.

VOL. XIV.

LONDON:

WILLIAM PICKERING.
M DCCCXXXI.

C. Whittingham, Tooks Court,
Chancery Lane.

PREFACE.

Tus Volume contains the TRANSLATIONS; lst, of the “In-
stauratio Magna,” excepting the translation of the first book,
the Treatise “ De Augmentis Scientiarum:” and, 2dly, of
one of the Posthumous Tracts.

The contents may be exhibited as follows :—

Page

Boox II..Nevum OrnGaNuM. . . . . 2. © . + '« pel to 2E8
Preliminaries

Moditation «(4080079 i I ee ik 1

Dedigatien 60S. St SEG TS ee es 3

Beets «5 5 Fea Ea ee oe we ee 5

Distribution of the Instauratio. . . ...+s« « .. ++

Protace to Novem Organu ke a kk ee

BOG Isc be A a ee

TR se ee ae eae a ee

Preparation for a Natural and Experimental History . . . . . 218

Aphorisms on the Formation of the First History . . . . . . 217

Catalogue of Particulay Histéries . 6257755) 8) FO Gi ie ET

Book III, NatruraL AND EXPERIMENTAL History . ha, Oe

PPCHRUNATION (55 pe eae a ee ee

History of Winds 25 pi es a RS VS ete ee

of Density and: Rarity: .:.1; 6.06) io + of apie kel

of Heavy abd Dagnt ini € hus de eieri ies cere ee

of Sympathy and Antipathy. . . . . . . . 303

of Sulphur, Mercury, and Salt. . . . . . . 304

Ot Lite and’ Demet Ee ee ee

Book IV. Scaring LADDER OF THE INTELLECT . ..... . 424

Book V. ANTICIPATIONS OF THE SECOND PHILOSOPHY . . . . . 428

Pavuvnte on the Nature of Things 60.7. i ea

Boox II. Novum Orcanum.

The first edition of this work was published in folio, in
1620, when Lord Bacon was Chancellor. Editions in
12mo. were published in Holland in 1645, 1650, and 1660.
An edition was published in 1779; “ Wirceburgi, Apud
Jo. Jac. Stahel: and an edition was published at Oxford
in 1813. No assistance to this, or, as I am aware, to any
eat of Lord Bacon’s works, has been rendered by the
Jniversity of Cambridge.

YOu, X1y¥. b

v1 PREFACE.

Parts of the Novum Organum have, at different periods,
been translated. |

In Watts’s translation, in 1640, of the Treatise De
Augmentis, there is a translation of the Introductory Tract
pretixed to the Novum Organum.

In the third edition of the Resuscitatio, published in
1671, there are three translated tracts from the Novum
Organum, viz. 1. The Natural and Experimental History
of the Form of Hot Things. 2. Of the several kinds of
Motion, or of the Active Virtue. 3. A Translation of the
Parasceve, which is the beginning of the third part of the
Instauration, but is annexed to the Novum Organum in
the first edition. This translation of the Parasceve is by
a well wisher to his Lordship’s writings.

In the tenth edition of the Sylva Sylvarum, there is-an
abridged translation of the Novum Organum. The follow-
ing is a copy of the title-page: The Novum Organum of
Sir Francis Bacon, Baron of Verulam, Viscount St. Albans
Epitomiz’d: for a clearer understanding of his Natural
History. Translated and taken out of the Latine 6
M. D. B. D. London: Printed for Thomas Lee, at the
Turks-head in Fleet Street, 1676. As this tenth edition of
the Sylva was published 1671, and Dr. Rawley died 1667,
it must not, from any document now known, be ascribed to
him. It is not noticed in the Baconiana published in 1679.

In 1733, Peter Shaw, M.D. published a translation of
the Novum Organum.

Dr. Shaw, who was a great admirer of Lord Bacon, seems
to have laboured under a diseased love of arrangement, by
which he was induced to deviate from the order of the pub-
lications by Lord Bacon, and to adopt his own method.
This may be seen in almost every part of his edition, but
particularly in his edition of the eae and of the Novum
Organum, which is divided and subdivided into sections,
with a perplexing alteration, without an explanation of the
numbers of the Aphorisms; this will appear at the conclu-
sion of his first section, where he passes from section thirty-
seven to section one. :

His own account of his translation is as follows:—‘ The
design of these volumes is to give a methodical English
edition of his Philosophical works, fitted for a commo-
dious and ready perusal; somewhat in the same manner
as the Philosophical works of Mr. Boyle were, a few years
since, fitted, in three quarto volumes. |

“ All the author’s pieces, that were originally written in

PREFACE. vu

Latin, or by himself translated into Latin, are here new
done from those originals ; with care all along to collate his
own English with the Latin, where the pieces were extant in
both languages. |

‘“¢ The method observed in thus rendering them into Eng-
lish, is not that of a direct translation (which might have
left them more obscure than they are; and no way suited
this design) ; but a kind. of open version, which endeavours
to express, in modern English, the sense of the author,
clear, full, and strong; though without deviating from him,
and, if possible, without losing of his spirit, force, or energy.
And though this attempt may seem vain, or bold, it was
doubtless better to have had the view, than willingly to
have aimed at second prizes. :

“ The liberty sometimes taken, not of abridging (for just
and perfect writings are incapable of abridgement), but of
dropping, or leaving out, some parts of the author’s writ-
ings, may require greater excuse. But this was done in
order to shorten the works, whose length has proved one
discouragement to their being read. And regard has been
had to omit none of the philosophical matter; but only cer-
tain personal addresses, compliments, exordiums, and the
like; for as the reasons and ends, for which these were
originally made, subsist no longer, it was thought super-
fluous to continue such particularities, in a work of this
general nature.”

In the year 1810 the Novum Organum was translated

into Italian. The following is a copy of the title-page:
Nuovo Organo Delle Scienze di Francesco Bacone, Di
Verulamio, Traduzione in Italiano del can. Antonio Pel-
hizzari, Edizione seconda arricchita di un Indice e di Anno-
taziont. Bassano, Tipografia Remondiniana, 1810.
_ For the translation of the Novum Organum contained
in this volume, I am indebted to my friend William Wood :
excepting the translation of the Catalogue of Particular
Histories, for which I am indebted to my friend and pupil
William G. Glen.

Boox III. Narurat anp ExprerRIMENTAL History.

Tue History or THE WINDs.

_ The translation was published in 1671, in the third edi-
tion of the Resuscitatio. It is “ translated into English by
R. G. Gentleman.” Of this tract Archbishop Tennison,
says, in his Baconiana: “The second section is the History

Vili PREFACE.

of Winds, written in Latin by the Author, and by R. G.
gentleman, turned into English. It was dedicated to King
Charles, then Prince, as the first-fruits of his Lordship’s
Natural History; and as a grain of mustard-seed, which
was, by degrees, to grow into a tree of experimental science.
This was the birth of the first of those six months, in which
he determined (God assisting him) to write six several his-
tories of natural things. To wit, of Dense and Rare Bodies ;
of Heavy and Light Bodies; of Sympathy and Antipathy ;
of Salt, Sulphur, and Mercury; of Life and Death; and
(which he first perfected) that of Winds, which he calls the
Wings, by which men fly on the sea, and the besoms of
the air and earth. And he rightly observeth, concerning
those postnati (for, as he saith, they are not a part of the
six days’ works, or primary creatures), that the generation
of them has not been well understood, because men have
been ignorant of the nature and power of the air, on which
the winds attend, as AZolus on Juno.

“The English translation of this book of Winds is
printed in the second part of the Resuscitatio, as it is called,
though improperly enough; for it is rather a collection of
books already printed, than a resuscitation of any consi-
derable ones, which before slept in private manuscript.”

The translations of the Histories of Density and Rarity ;
of Heavy and Light; of Sympathy and Antipathy; of
Sulphur, Mercury, and Salt, are from the third edition of
the Resuscitatio, published in 1671; which contains also
a translation of the Entrance to the History of Life and .
Death.

The translation of the History of Life and Death is taken
from the seventh edition of the Sylva Sylvarum, published
in 1658. Of this translation, Archbishop Tennison thus
speaks in his Baconiana: “ The sixth section is the History
of Life and Death, written by his Lordship in Latin, and
first turned into English by an injudicious translator, and
rendered much better a second time, by an abler pen, made
abler still by the advice and assistance of Dr. Rawley.

“ This work, though ranked last amongst the six monthly
designations, yet was set forth in the second place. His
Lordship (as he saith) inverting the order, in respect of the
prime use of this argument, in which the least loss of time
was by him esteemed very precious. The subject of this
book (which Sir Henry Wotton calleth none of the least of
his Lordship’s works), and the argument of which some had
before undertaken, but to much less purpose, is the first of

PREFACE. 1x

those which he put in his Catalogue of the Magnalia
Nature. And, doubtless, his Lordship undertook both a
great and a most desirable work, of making art short, and
life easy and long. ‘ And it was his Lordship’s wish, that
the nobler sort of physicians might not employ their times
wholly in the sordidness of cures, neither be honoured for
necessity only; but become coadjutors and instruments of
the divine omnipotence and clemence, in prolonging and
renewing the life of man; and in helping Christians, who
pant after the land of promise, so to journey through this
world’s wilderness, as to have their shoes and garments (these
of their frail bodies) little worn and impaired.’” :

Boox IV. Or THE SCALING LADDER OF THEINTELLECT.

For this translation I am indebted to my dear friend, the
Reverend Archdeacon Wrangham, with whom, after an un-
interrupted friendship of more than forty years, | am
happy to be associated in this work.

Archbishop Tennison thus speaks of this fourth hook :
“The fourth part of the Instauration designed, was Scala
Intellectus.

“ To this there is some sort of entrance in his Lordship’s
distribution of the Novum Organum, and in a page or two
under that title of Scala, published by Gruter. But the
work itself passed not beyond the model of it in the head
of the noble author.

“That which he intended, was a particular explication,
and application of the second part of the Instauration (which
giveth general rules for the interpretation of nature), by
gradual instances and examples.

“ He thought that his rules, without some more sensible
explication, were like discourses in Geometry, or mechanics,
without figures, and types of engines. He therefore de-
signed to select certain subjects in nature or art; and, as it
were, to draw to the sense a certain scheme of the beginning
and progress of philosophical disquisition in them; show-
ing, by degrees, where our consideration takes root, and
how it spreadeth and advanceth. And some such thing is
done by those who, from the Cicatricula, or from the .
Punctum Saliens, observe and register all the phenomena
of the animal unto its death, and after it also in the medi-
cal, or culinary, or other use of its body; together with all

y ae PREFACE.

the train of the thoughts occasioned by those phenomena,
or by others in compare with them.

** And because he intended to exhibit such observations,
as they gradually arise, therefore he gave to that designed
work, the title of the Scale, or Ladder of the Understanding.
He also expressed the same conceit by another metaphor,
advising students to imitate men, who by going by degrees
from several eminences of some very high mountain, do at
length arrive at the top, or pike of it.”

Firtuy Book, or ANTICIPATIONS OF THE SECOND
' PHILOSOPHY.

For this translation I am also indebted to my friend
Archdeacon Wrangham. Of this tract Archbishop imi
thus speaks: “ The fifth part of the Instauration designed
was what hecalled Prodromi sive Anticipationes Philosophie
Secunde. To this we find a very brief entrance in the
Organum, and the Scripta, published by Gruter. And
though his Lordship is not known to have composed an
part of this work by itself, yet something of it is to be col-
lected from the axioms, and greater observations interspersed
in his Natural Histories, which are not pure but mixed
writings. The anticipations he intended to pay down as
use, till he might furnish the world with the principal.”

THOUGHTS ON THE NATURE oF THINGS.
This is the translation of my friend William G. Glen.

THE GREAT INSTAURATION OF
LORD BACON.

PART II.

NOVUM ORGANUM.

FRANCIS OF VERULAM

THOUGHT THUS, AND SUCH IS THE METHOD HE WITHIN HIMSELF
PURSUED, WHICH HE THOUGHT IT CONCERNED BOTH

THE LIVING AND POSTERITY TO BECOME ACQUAINTED WITITI.

SrcinG he was satisfied that the human understanding
creates itself labour, and makes not a judicious and con-
venient use of such real helps as are within man’s power,
whence arise both a manifold ignorance of things, and innu-
merable disadvantages, the consequence of such ignorance ;
he thought that we ought to endeavour, with all our might,
either (if it were possible) completely to restore, or, at all
events, to bring to a better issue that free intercourse of the
mind with things, nothing similar to which is to be met
with on earth, at least as regards earthly objects. But
that errors which have gained firm ground, and will for
ever continue to gain ground, would, if the mind were left
to itself, successively correct each other, either from the
proper powers of the understanding, or from the helps and
support of logic, he entertained not the slightest hope.
Because the primary notions of things, which the mind
ignorantly and negligently imbibes, stores up, and accumu-
lates (and from which every thing else is derived), are
faulty and confused, and carelessly abstracted from the
things themselves; and in the secondary and_ following
notions, there is an equal wantonness and inconsistency.
Hence it happens that the whole system of human rea-
soning, as far as we apply it to the investigation of nature,
is not skilfully consolidated and built up, but resembles a
magnificent pile that has no foundation. For while men
admire and celebrate the false energies of the mind, they
pass by, and lose sight of, the real; such as may exist if
the mind adopt proper helps, and act modestly towards
things instead of weakly insulting them. But one course
was left, to begin the matter anew with better preparation,

and to effect a restoration of the sciences, arts, and the
VOL. XIV. B

2

whole of human learning, established on their proper foun-
dation. And although, at the first attempt, this may appear
to be infinite, and above the strength of a mere mortal, yet
will it, in the execution, be found to be more sound and
judicious than the course which has hitherto been pursued.
For this method admits at least of some termination, whilst
in the present mode of treating the sciences, there is a sort
of whirl, and perpetual hurry round a circle. Nor has he
forgotten to observe that he stands alone in this experiment,
and that it is too bold and astonishing to obtain credit.
Nevertheless he thought it not right to desert either the
cause or himself, by not exploring and entering upon the
only way, which is pervious to the human mind. For it
is better to commence a matter which may admit of some
termination, than to be involved in perpetual exertion and
anxiety about that which is interminable. And, indeed,
the ways of contemplation nearly resemble those celebrated
ways of action; the one of which steep and rugged at its
commencement terminates in a plain, the other at the first
view smooth and easy leads only to bye-roads and preci-
pices. Uncertain, however, whether these reflections would
ever hereafter suggest themselves to another, and particu-
larly having observed, that he has never yet met with any
person disposed to apply his mind to similar meditations,
he determined to publish whatsoever he had first time to
conclude. - Nor is this the haste of ambition, but of his
anxiety, that if the common lot of mankind should befall
him, some sketch and determination of the matter his
mind had embraced might be extant, as well as an earnest
of his will being honourably bent upon promoting the ad-
vantage of mankind. He assuredly looked upon any other
ambition as beneath the matter he had undertaken ;. for
that which is here treated of is either nothing, or it is so
great that he ought to be satisfied with its own worth, and
seek no other return.

TO
OUR MOST SERENE AND MIGHTY PRINCE AND LORD

JAMES,

BY THE GRACE OF GOD, KING OF GREAT BRITAIN,
FRANCE, AND IRELAND, DEFENDER
OF THE FAITH, ETC,

MOST SERENE AND MIGHTY KING,

Your Majesty will, perhaps, accuse me of theft, in that
I have stolen from your employments time sufficient for this
work. I have no reply, for there can be no restitution of
time, unless, perhaps, that which has been withdrawn from
your affairs might be set down as devoted to the perpetuating
of your name and to the honour of your age, were what I
now offer of any value. It is at least new, even in its very
nature; but copied from a very ancient pattern, no other
than the world itself, and the nature of things, and of the
mind. I myself (ingenuously to confess the truth) am
wont to value this work rather as the offspring of time than
of wit. For the only wonderful circumstance in it is, that
the first conception of the matter, and so deep suspicions
of prevalent notions should ever have entered into any
person’s mind; the consequences naturally follow. But,
doubtless, there is a chance (as we call it), and something
as it were accidental in man’s thoughts, no less than in his
actions and words. I would have this chance, however
(of which I am speaking), to be so understood, that if there
be any merit in what I offer, it should be attributed to the
immeasurable mercy and bounty of God, and to the felicity
of this your age; to which felicity I have devoted myself

4 DEDICATION.

whilst living with the sincerest zeal, and I shall, perhaps,
before my death have rendered the age a light unto pos-
terity, by kindling this new torch amid the darkness of
philosophy. This regeneration and instauration of the
sciences is with justice due to the age of a prince surpass-
ing all others in wisdom and learning. There remains for
me but to make one request, worthy of your Majesty, and
very especially relating to my subject, namely, that resem-
bling Solomen as you do in most respects, in the gravity of
your decisions, the peacefulness of your reign, the expan-
sion of your heart, and, lastly, in the noble variety of
books you have composed, you would further imitate the
same monarch in procuring the compilation and completion
of a Natural and Experimental History, that shall be genuine
and rigorous, not that of mere Philologues, and serviceable
for raising the superstructure of philosophy, such in short
as I will in its proper place describe: that, at length, after
so many ages, philosophy and the sciences may no longer
be unsettled and speculative, but fixed on the solid founda-
tion of a varied and well considered experience. I for my
part have supplied the instrument, the matter to be worked
upon must be sought from things themselves. May the
ereat and good God long preserve your majesty in safety.

Your Majesty’s
Most bounden and devoted,
Francis VERULAM,
Chancellor.

ek a Slpeahnieeiiee

FRANCIS OF VERULAM’S
GREAT INSTAURATION.

PREFACE,

.

ON THE STATE OF LEARNING.—THAT IT IS NEITHER PROSPEROUS NOR
GREATLY ADVANCED, AND THAT AN ENTIRELY DIFFERENT WAY
FROM ANY KNOWN TO OUR PREDECESSORS MUST BE OPENED TO
THE HUMAN UNDERSTANDING, AND DIFFERENT HELPS BE OB-
TAINED, IN ORDER THAT THE MIND MAY EXERCISE ITS JURISDIC-
TION OVER THE NATURE OF THINGS.

~

a

Ir appears to me that men know not either their acquire-
ments or their powers, and trust too much to the former,
and too little to the latter. Hence it arises that, either es-
timating the arts they have become acquainted with at an
absurd value, they require nothing more, or forming too
low an opinion of themselves, they waste their powers on
trivial objects, without attempting any thing to the pur-
pose. The sciences have thus their own pillars, fixed as it
were by fate,* since men are not roused to penetrate beyond
them either by zeal or hope: and inasmuch as an imagi-
nary plenty mainly contributes to a dearth, and from a
reliance upon present assistance, that which will really
hereafter aid us is neglected, it becomes useful, nay clearly
necessary, in the very outset of our work, to remove, without
any circumlocution or concealment, all excessive conceit
and admiration of our actual state of knowledge, by this
wholesome warning not to exaggerate or boast of its extent
or utility. For if any one look more attentively into that
vast variety of books which the arts and sciences are so
proud of, he will every where discover innumerable repeti-
tions of the same thing, varied only by the method of
treating it, but anticipated in invention; so that although
at first sight they appear numerous, they are found, upon

* Alluding to the frontispiece of the original work, which represents a vessel
passing beyond the Pillars of Hercules.

6 PREFACE.

examination, to be but scanty. And with regard to their
utility I must speak plainly. That philosophy of ours
which we have chiefly derived from the Greeks, appears to
me but the childhood of knowledge, and to possess the
peculiarity of that age, being prone to idle loquacity, but
weak and unripe for generation ; for it is fruitful of contro-
versy and barren of effects. So that the fable of Scylla
seems to be a lively image of the present state of letters ;
for she exhibited the countenance and expression of a
virgin, but barking monsters surrounded and fastened
themselves to her womb. Even thus, the sciences to which
we have been accustomed have their flattering and specious
generalities, but when we come to particulars, which, like
the organs of generation, should produce fruit and effects,
then spring up altercations and barking questions, in the
which they end, and bring forth nothing else. Besides, if
these sciences were not manifestly a dead letter, it would
never happen, as for many ages has been the case in prac-
tice, that they should adhere almost immovably to their
original footing, without acquiring a growth worthy of
mankind: and this so completely, that frequently not only
an assertion continues to be an assertion, but even a ques-
tion to be a question, which instead of being solved by
discussion becomes fixed and encouraged ; and every system
of instruction successively handed down to us brings upon
the stage the characters of master and scholar, not those
of an inventor and one capable of adding some excellence
to his inventions. But we see the contrary happen in the
mechanical arts. For they, as if inhaling some life-inspir-
ing air, daily increase, and are brought to perfection; they
generally in the hands of the inventor appear rude, cum-
brous, and shapeless, but afterwards acquire such addi-
tional powers and facility, that sooner may men’s wishes
and fancies decline and change, than the arts reach their
full height and perfection. Philosophy and the intellectual
sciences on the contrary, like statues, are adored and cele-
brated, but are not made to advance: nay, they are frequently
most vigorous in the hands of their author, and thence-
forward degenerate. For since men have voluntarily sur-
rendered themselves, and gone over in crowds to the opinion
of their leader, like those silent senators of Rome,* they
add nothing to the extent of learning themselves, but per-
form the servile duty of illustrating and waiting upon par-

* Pedari Senatores.

See rer

PREFACE. 7

ticular authors. Nor let any one allege that learning slowly
springing up attained by degrees its full stature, and from
that time took up its abode in the works of a few, as having
performed its predetermined course; and that as it is im-
possible to discover any fthurer improvement, it onl

remains for us to adorn and cultivate that which has been
discovered. It were indeed to be wished that such were
the case ; the more correct and true statement however is,
that this slavery of the sciences arises merely from the
impudence of a few, and the indolence of the rest of
mankind. For, no sooner was any particular branch of
learning (diligently enough perhaps) cultivated and la-
boured, than up would spring some individual confident
in his art, who would acquire authority and reputation
from the compendious nature of his method, and, as far
as appearances went, would establish the art, whilst in
reality he was corrupting the labours of his ancestors. Yet
wil this please succeeding generations, from the ready use
they can make of his labour, and their wearisome im-
patience of fresh inquiry. But if any one be influenced by
an inveterate uniformity of opinion, as though it were the
decision of time—let him learn that he is relying on a most
fallacious and weak argument. For not only are we, in a
great measure, unacquainted with the proportion of arts and
sciences that has been discovered and made its way to the
public in various ages and regions (much less with what has
been individually attempted and privately agitated), neither
the births nor the abortions of time being extant in an

register ; but also that uniformity itself, and its duration
are not to be considered of any great moment. For how-
ever varied the forms of civil government may be, there is
but one state of learning, and that ever was and ever will
be the democratic. Now with the people at large, the doc-
trines that most prevail are either disputatious and violent,
or specious and vain, and they either ensnare or allure
assent. Hence, without question, the greatest wits have
undergone violence in every age, whilst others of no vulgar
capacity and understanding have still, from consulting their
reputation, submitted themselves to the decision of time
and the multitude. Wherefore if more elevated specula-
tions have perchance any where burst forth, they have been
from time to time blown about by the winds of public
opinion, and extinguished, so that time, like a river, has
brought down all that was light and inflated, and has sunk
what was weighty and solid. Nay, those very leaders who

8 PREFACE.

have usurped, as it were, a dictatorship in. learning, and
pronounce their opinion of things with so much confidence,
will yet, when they occasionally return to their senses,
begin to complain of the subtilty of nature, the remoteness
of truth, the obscurity of things, the complication of causes,
and the weakness of human wit. \They are not, however,
more modest in this than in the former instances, since they
prefer framing an excuse of the common condition of men
and things, to confessing their own defects. Besides, it
is generally their practice, if some particular art fail to
accomplish any object, to conclude that it cannot be accom-
plished by that art. But yet the art cannot be condemned,
for she herself deliberates and decides the question; so that
their only aim is to deliver their ignorance from ignominy.
The following statement exhibits sufficiently well the state
of knowledge delivered down to and received by us. It is
barren in effects, fruitful in questions, slow and languid in
its improvement, exhibiting in its generality the counterfeit
of perfection, but ill filled up in its details, popular in its
choice, but suspected by its very promoters, and therefore
bolstered up and countenanced with artifices. Even those
who have been determined to try for themselves, to add
their support to learning, and to enlarge its limits, have
not dared entirely to desert received opinions, nor to seek
the springhead of things. But they think they have done
a great thing if they intersperse and contribute something
of their own, prudently considering that by their assent
they can save their modesty, and by their contributions
their liberty. Whilst consulting, however, the opinions of
others, and good manners, this admired moderation tends
to the great injury of learning: for it is seldom in our
power both to admire and surpass our author, but, like
water, we rise not higher than the springhead whence we
have descended. Such men, therefore, amend some things,
but cause little advancement, and improve more than they
enlarge knowledge. Yet there have not been wanting
some, who with greater daring, have considered every thing
open to them, and employing the force of their wit, have
opened a passage for themselves and their dogmas by pros-
trating and destroying all before them; but this violence
of theirs has not availed much, since they have not laboured
to enlarge philosophy and the arts, both in their subject
matter and effect; but only to substitute new dogmas, and
to transfer the empire of opinion to themselves, with but
small advantage ; for opposite errors proceed mostly from

PREFACE. 9

common causes. Evenif some few, who neither dogmatise
nor submit to dogmatism, have been so spirited as to re~
quest others to join them in investigation, yet have such,
though honest in their zeal, been weak in their efforts.
For they seem to have followed only probable reasoning,
and are hurried in a continued whirl of arguments, till by

an indiscriminate license of inquiry, they have enervated

the strictness of investigation. But not one has there been

found of a disposition to dwell sufficiently on things them-

selves and experience. For some again, who have com-
mitted themselves to the waves of experience, and become
almost mechanics, yet in their very experience employ an
unsteady investigation, and war not with it by fixed rules.
Nay, some have only proposed to themselves a few paltry
tasks, and think it a great thing if they can work out one
single discovery, a plan no less beggarly than unskilful.
For no one examines thoroughly or successfully the nature
of any thing in the thing itself, but after a laborious variety
of experiments, instead of pausing there, they set out upon
some further inquiry. And we must by no means omit
observing, that all the industry displayed in experiment
has, from the very first, caught with a too hasty and intem-
perate zeal at some determined effect; has sought (1 say)
productive rather than enlightening experiments, and has
not imitated the divine method, which on the first day
created light alone, and assigned it one whole day, pro-
ducing no material works thereon, but descending to their
creation on the following days. Those who have attributed
the preeminence to logic, and have thought that it afforded
the safest support to learning, have seen very correctly and
properly that man’s understanding, when left to itself, is
deservedly to be suspected. Yet the remedy is even weaker
than the disease; nay, it is not itself free from disease.
For the common system of logic, although most properly
applied to civil matters, and such arts as lie in discussion
and opinion, is far from reaching the subtilty of nature,
and, by catching at that which it cannot grasp, has done
more to confirm, and, as it were, fasten errors upon us, than
to open the way to truth.

To sum up therefore our observations, neither reliance
upon others, nor their own industry, appear hitherto to
have set forth learning to mankind in her best light, espe-
cially as there is little aid in such demonstrations and ex-
periments as have yet reached us. For the fabric of this
universe is like a labyrinth to the contemplative mind,

10 PREFACE.

where doubtful paths, deceitful imitations of things and
their signs, winding and intricate folds and knots of
nature everywhere present themselves, and a way must con-
stantly be made through the forests of experience and par-
ticular natures, with the aid of the uncertain light of the
senses, shining and disappearing by fits. But the guides
who offer their services are (as has been said) themselves
confused, and increase the number of wanderings and of
wanderers. In so difficult a matter we must despair of
man’s unassisted judgment, or even of any casual good
fortune: for neither the excellence of wit, however great,
nor the die of experience, however frequently cast, can
overcome such disadvantages. We must guide our steps
by a clue, and the whole path, from the very first percep-
tions of our senses, must be secured by a determined me-
thod. Nor must I be thought to say, that nothing what-
ever has been done by so many ages and so much labour;
for I regret not our discoveries, and the ancients have cer-
tainly shown themselves worthy of admiration in all that
requires either wit or abstracted meditation. But as in
former ages, when men at sea used only to steer by their
observations of the stars, they were indeed enabled to
coast the shores of the Continent, or some small and inland
seas; but before they could traverse the ocean and discover
the regions of a new world, it was necessary that the use
of the compass, a more trusty and certain guide on their
voyage, should be first known; even so, the present disco-
veries in the arts and sciences are such as might be found
out by meditation, observation, and discussion, as being more
open to the senses and lying immediately beneath our com-
mon notions: but before we are allowed to enter the more
remote and hidden parts of nature, it is necessary that a
better and more perfect use and application of the human
mind and understanding should be introduced.

We, for our part at least, overcome by the eternal love of
truth, have committed ourselves to uncertain, steep, and
desert tracks, and trusting and relying on divine assistance,
have borne up our mind against the violence of opinions,
drawn up as it were in battle array, against our own inter-
nal doubts and scruples, against the mists and clouds of
nature, and against fancies flitting on all sides around us:
that we might at length collect some more trustworthy
and certain indications for the living and posterity. And
if we have made any way in this matter, no other method
than the true and genuine humiliation of the human soul

fy ape ~ eee
Wile rts ee ee ee ee ae re

PREFACE. 11

has opened it unto us. For all who before us have applied
themselves to the discovery of the arts, after casting their
eyes awhile upon things, instances, and experience, have
straightway invoked as it were some spirits of their own to
disclose their oracles, as if invention were nothing but a
species of thought. But we in our subdued and perpetual
intercourse with things, abstract our understanding no fur-
ther from them than is necessary to prevent the confusion
of the images of things with their radiation, a confusion
similar to that we experience by our senses: and thus
but little is left for the powers and excellence of wit. And
we have in teaching continued to show forth the humility,
which we adopt in discovering. For we do not endeavour
to assume or acquire any majestic state for these our dis-
coveries, by the triumphs of confutation, the citing of
antiquity, the usurpation of authority, or even the veil of
obscurity, which would easily suggest themselves to one
endeavouring to throw light upon his own name, rather
than the minds of others. We have not, I say, practised
either force or fraud on men’s judgments, nor intend we so
to do; but we conduct them to things themselves and the
real connexion of things, that they may themselves behold
what they possess, what they prove, what they add, and
what they contribute to the common stock. If, however,
we have in any matter given too easy credit, or slumbered
and been too inadvertent, or have mistaken our road, and
broken off inquiry, yet we exhibit things plainly and
openly so that our errors can be noted and separated
before they corrupt any further the mass of sciences, and
the continuation of our labours is rendered easy and unem-
barrassed. And we think that by so doing we have estab-
lished for ever the real and legitimate union of the empiric
and rational faculties, whose sullen and inauspicious di-
vorces and repudiations have disturbed every thing in the
great family of mankind.

Since, therefore, these matters are beyond our control,
we in the beginning of our work pour forth most humble
and ardent prayers to God the Father, God the Word, and
God the Spirit, that mindful of the cares of man, and of
his pilgrimage through this life, in which we wear out
some few and evil days, they would vouchsafe through our
hands to endow the family of mankind with these new
gifts ; and we moreover humbly pray that human knowledge
may not prejudice divine truth, and that no incredulity and
darkness in regard to the divine mysteries may arise in our

12 PREFACE.

minds upon the disclosing of the ways of sense, and this
greater kindling of our natural light; but rather that from
a pure understanding, cleared of all fancies and vanity, yet
no less submitted to, nay wholly prostrate before the divine
oracles, we may render unto faith the tribute due unto
faith. And lastly, that being freed from the poison of
knowledge, infused into it by the serpent, and with which
the human soul is swoln and puffed up, we may neither be
too profoundly nor immoderately wise, but worship truth in
charity.

Having thus offered up our prayers, and turning our
thoughts again towards man, we propound some salutary
admonitions, and some just requests. First then we admo-
nish mankind to keep their senses within the bounds of
duty as regards Divine objects. For the senses, like the sun,
open the surface of the terrestrial globe, but close and seal
up that of the celestial; next that, whilst avoiding this
error, they fall not into the contrary, which will surely be
the case, if they think the investigation of nature to be in
any part denied as if by interdict. For it was not that
pure and innocent knowledge of nature, by which Adam
gave names to things from their properties, that was the
origin or occasion of the fall, but that ambitious and impe-
rious appetite for moral knowledge, distinguishing good
. from evil, with the intent that man might revolt from God
and govern himself, was both the cause and means of
temptation. With regard to the sciences that contemplate
nature, the sacred Philosopher declares it to be “ the glory
of God to conceal a thing, but of the king to search it
out,’* just as if the Divine Spirit were wont to be pleased
with the innocent and gentle sport of children, who hide
themselves that they may be found; and had chosen the
human soul as a playmate out of his indulgence and good-
ness towards man. Lastly, we would in general admonish
all to consider the true ends of knowledge, and not to seek
it for the gratification of their minds, or for disputation, or
that they may despise others, or for emolument, or fame,
or power, or such low objects, but for its intrinsic merit
and the purposes of life, and that they would perfect and
regulate it by charity. For from the desire of power the
angels fell, and men from that of knowledge; but there is
no excess in charity, and neither angel nor man was ever
endangered by it.

* Prov. : xxv. 2.

as owes 3

PREFACE. 13

The requests we make are three. Of ourselves we say
nothing; but for the matter which we treat, we desire men
not to regard it as an opinion, but as a work, and to hold
it for certain that we are not laying the foundation of any
sect or theory, but of that which will profit and dignify man-
kind. In the next place, that they should fairly consult
their common advantage, laying aside the jealousies and
prejudices of opinions, and themselves participate in the
remaining labours, when they have been rescued by us
from the errors and impediments of the road, and furnished
with our defence and assistance. Moreover that they
should be strong in hope, and should not pretend or imagine
that our instauration is an infinite work surpassing human
strength, since it is really an end and legitimate termination
of infinite error, yet that they should still recollect the
mortal lot of man, and not trust that the matter can be
altogether perfected within the course of one age, but deli-
ver it over to succeeding ages, and finally that they should
not arrogantly search for the sciences in the narrow cells
of human wit, but humbly in the greater world. That,
however, which is empty is commonly vast, whilst solid
matter is generally condensed, and lies in a small space.
Lastly, we must require (least any one should be disposed
to injustice towards us in the very point on which our sub-
ject turns) that men would consider, how far they imagine
they can be permitted to comment and pass judgment on
our work, after considering what it is necessary for us to
claim for ourselves, if we would preserve any consistency,
seeing we reject all human methods, that are premature,
anticipating, carelessly and too rapidly abstracted from
things as regards the investigation of nature, considering
them to be changeable, confused, and badly constructed ;
nor is it to be required, that we should be judged by that
which we ourselves arraign.

THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK.

IT CONSISTS OF SIX PARTS:

. Divisions of the Sciences. :

Novum Organum; or, Precepts for the Interpreta-
tion of Nature.

Phenomena of the Universe; or, Natural and Expe-
rimental History on which to found Philosophy.

Scale of the Understanding.

Precursors or Anticipations of the Second Philosophy.

Sound Philosophy, or Active Science.

SEP ee a

THE ARGUMENTS OF THE SEVERAL PARTS.

OnE point of our design is that every thing should be set
out as openly and clearly as possible. For this nakedness,
as once that of the body, is the companion of innocence
and simplicity. The order and method of the work, there-
fore, shall first be explained. We divide it into six parts.
The first part exhibits a summary, or universal description
of such science and learning as mankind is, up to this time,
in possession of. For we have thought fit to dwell a little
even on received notions, with a view the more easily to
perfect the old, and approach the new: being nearly equally
desirous to improve the.former, and to attain the latter.
This is of avail also towards our obtaining credit: according
to the text, “The unlearned receives not the words of know-
ledge unless you first speak of what is within his own
heart.”* We will not therefore neglect coasting the shores
of the now received arts and sciences, and importing thither
something useful on our passage.

But we also employ such a division of the sciences, as
will not only embrace what is already discovered and
known, but what has hitherto been omitted and deficient.
For there are both cultivated and desert tracts in the intel-
lectual as in the terrestrial globe. It must not therefore

%

* Prov. xviii. 2, ‘* A fool hath no delight in understanding but that his
heart may discover itself.” Bacon quotes from the Vulgate.

THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. 15

appear extraordinary if we sometimes depart from the com-
mon divisions. For additions, whilst they vary the whole,
necessarily vary the parts, and their subdivisions, but the
received divisions are only adequate to the received summary
of the sciences such as it now exists.

With regard to what we shall note as omitted, we shall
not content ourselves with offering the mere names and
concise proofs of what is deficient: for if we refer any
thing to omissions, of a high nature, and the meaning of
which may be rather obscure (so that we may have grounds
to suspect that men will not understand our intention, or
the nature of the matter we have embraced in our concep-
tion and contemplation), we will always take care to subjoin
to an instance of the whole, some precepts for perfecting it,
or perhaps a completion of a part of it by ourselves. For
we consider it to concern our own character as well as the
advantage of others, that no one may imagine a mere passing
idea of such matters to have crossed our mind, and that
what we desire and aim at resembles a wish; whilst in
reality it is in the power of all men, if they be not wanting
to themselves, and we ourselves are actually masters of a
sure and clear method. For we have not undertaken to
measure out regions in our mind, like augurs for divination,
but like generals to invade them for conquest.

AND THIS IS THE FIRST PART OF THE WORK.

Having passed over the ancient arts, we will prepare the
human understanding for pressing on beyond them. The
object of the Second Part then is the doctrine touching a
better and more perfect use of reasoning in the investigation
of things, and the true helps of the understanding ; that it
may by this means be raised, as far as our human and
mortal nature will admit, and be enlarged in its powers so
as to master the arduous and obscure secrets of nature.
And the art which we employ (and which we are wont to
call the interpretation of nature) is a kind of logic. For
common logic professes to contrive and prepare helps and
guards for the understanding, and so far they agree. But
ours differs from the common, chiefly in three respects,
namely, in its end, the order of demonstration, and the
beginning of the inquiry.

For the end of our science is not to discover arguments
but arts, nor what is agreeable to certain principles but the
principles themselves, nor probable reasons, but designa-
tions and indications of effects. Hence from a diversity of
intention follows a diversity of consequences. For in the

16 THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK.

one an opponent is vanquished and constrained by argu-
ment, in the other, nature by effects.

And the nature and order of the demonstrations agree
with this end, For in common logic almost our whole
labour is spent upon the syllogism. The logicians appear
scarcely to have thought seriously of induction, passing it
over with some slight notice,and hurrying on to the for-
mule of dispute. But we reject the syllogistic demonstra-
tion, as being too confused, and letting nature escape from
our hands. For although nobody can doubt that those
things which agree with the middle term agree with each
other (which is a sort of mathematical certainty), neverthe-
less, there is this source of error, namely, that a syllogism
consists of propositions, propositions of words, and words
are but the tokens and signs of things. If therefore the no-
tions of the mind (which are as it were the soul of words, and
the basis of this whole structure and fabric) are badly and
hastily abstracted from things, and vague, or not sufficiently
defined and limited, or, in short, faulty (as they may be)
in many other respects, the whole falls to the ground. We
reject, therefore, the syllogism, and that not only as regards
first principles (to which even the logicians do not apply
them), but also in intermediate propositions, which the
syllogism certainly manages in some way or other to brin
out and produce, but then they are barren of effects, unfit
for practice, and clearly unsuited to the active branch of
the sciences. Although we would leave therefore to the
syllogism, and such celebrated and applauded demonstra-
tions, their jurisdiction over popular and speculative arts
(for here we make no alteration), yet in every thing relating
to the nature of things, we make use of induction, both for
our major and minor propositions. For we consider induc-
tion to be that form of demonstration which assists the
senses, closes in upon nature, and presses on and, as it
were, mixes itself with action.

Hence also the order of demonstration is naturally re-
versed. For at present the matter is so managed, that from
the senses and particular objects they immediately fly to
the greatest generalities, as the axes round which their dis-
putes may revolve: all the rest is deduced from them in-
termediately, by a short way we allow, but an abrupt one,
and impassable to nature, though easy and well suited to
dispute. But by our method, axioms are raised up in gra-
dual succession, so that we only at last arrive at generali-

ties. And that which is most generalised, is not merely”

a al st ha

oes :

THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. © 17

notional but well defined, and really acknowledged by na-
ture as well known to her, and cleaving to the very pith of
things. ise é

By far our greatest work, however, lies in the form of
induction and the judgment arising from it. _ For the form
of which the logicians speak, which proceeds by bare enu-
meration, is puerile, and its conclusions precarious, is ex-
posed to danger from one contrary example, only considers
what is habitual, and leads not to any final result.

The sciences, on the contrary, require a form of induc-
tion capable of explaining and separating experiments, and
coming to a certain conclusion by a proper series of rejec-
tions and exclusions. If, however, the common judgment
of the logicians has been so laborious, and has exercised
such great wits, how much more must we labour in this
which is drawn not only from the recesses of the mind, but
the very entrails of nature.

Nor is this all, for we let down to a greater depth, and
render more solid the very foundations of the sciences,
and we take up the beginning of our investigation from a
higher part than men have yet done, by subjecting those
matters to examination which common logic receives upon
the credit of others. For the logicians borrow the prin-
ciples of one science from another, in the next place they
worship the first formed notions of their minds, and lastly
they rest contented with the immediate information of the
senses if well directed. But we have resolved that true
logic ought to enter upon the several provinces of the
sciences with a greater command than is possessed by their
first principles, and to force those supposed principles to
an account of the grounds upon which they are clearly
determined. As far as relates to the first notions of the
understanding, not any of the materials which the under-
standing, when left to itself, has collected, is unsuspected
by us, nor will we confirm them unless they themselves
be put upon their trial and be judged accordingly. Again we
have many ways of sifting the information of the senses
themselves—for the senses assuredly deceive, though at
the same time they disclose their errors—the errors, how-
ever, are close at hand, whilst their indication must be
sought at a greater distance.

There are two faults of the senses: they either desert
or deceive us. For in the first place there are many things
which escape the senses however well directed and unim-
peded, owing either to the subtilty of the whole body, or

VOL, XIV, ,

1g THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK.

the minuteness of its parts, or the distance of place, or the
slowness or velocity of motion, or the familiarity of the
object, or to other causes. Nor are the apprehensions of
the senses very firm, when they grasp the subject ; for the
testimony and information of the senses bears always a
relation to man and not to the universe, and it is altoge-
ther a great mistake to assert that our senses are the
measure of things.

To encounter these difficulties, we have every where
sought and collected helps for the senses with laborious
and faithful service, in order to supply defects and correct
errors: and that not so much by means of instruments, as
by experiments. For experiments are much more delicate
than the senses themselves, even when aided by instru-
ments, at least if they are skilfully and_ scientifically
imagined and applied to the required point. We attri-
bute but little therefore to the immediate and proper per-
ception of the senses, but reduce the matter to this, that
they should decide on the experiment, and the experi-
ment on the subject of it. Wherefore we consider that we
have shown ourselves most observant priests of the senses
(by which all that exists in nature must be investigated if
we would be rational), and not unskilful interpreters of
their oracles: for others seem to observe and worship them
in word alone, but we in deed. These then are the means
which we prepare for kindling and transmitting the light
of nature: which would of themselves be sufficient, if the
human understanding were plain and like a smoothed sur-
face. But since the minds of men are so wonderfully pre-
possessed, that a clear and polished surface for receiving
the true rays of things is wholly wanting, necessity urges
us to seek a remedy for this also.

The images or idols by which the mind is preoccupied
are either adventitious or innate. The adventitious have
crept into the minds of men either from the dogmas and
sects of philosophers, or the perverted rules of demonstra-
tion. But the innate are inherent to the very nature of
the understanding, which appears to be much more prone
to error than the senses. For however men may be satis-
fied with themselves, and rush into a blind admiration and
almost adoration of the human mind, one thing is most
certain, namely, that as an uneven mirror changes the
rays proceeding from objects according to its own figure
and position, so the mind when affected by things through
“the senses does not act in the most trustworthy manner,

ane
cues iene

4
«

THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. 19

but inserts and mixes her own nature into that of things,
whilst clearing and recollecting her notions.

The first two species of idols are with difficulty eradi-
cated, the latter can never be so. We can only point them
out, and note and demonstrate that insidious faculty of
the mind, least new shoots of error should happen to
spring up, from the destruction of the old, on account of
the mind’s defective structure; and we should then find
ourselves only exchanging instead of extinguishing errors ;
whilst it ought on the other hand to be eternally resolved
and settled, that the understanding cannot decide other-
wise than by induction and by a legitimate form of it.
Wherefore the doctrine of the purifying of the understand-
ing, so as to fit it for the reception of truth, consists of
three reprehensions ; the reprehension of the schemes of
philosophy, the reprehension of methods of demonstration,
and the reprehension of natural human reason. But when
these have been gone through, and it has at last been
clearly seen, what results are to be expected from the
nature of things and the nature of the mind, we consider
that we shall have prepared and adorned a nuptial couch
for the mind and the universe; the divine goodness being
our bridemaid. But let the prayer of our epithalamium
be this; that from this union may spring assistance to
man, anda race of such discoveries as will in some measure
overcome his wants and necessities. |

AND THIS IS THE SECOND PART OF THE WORK.

It is our intention not only to open and prepare the
way, but also to enter upon it. The third part, therefore,
of our work embraces the phenomena of the universe ;
that is to say, experience of every kind, and such a natural
history as can form the foundation of an edifice of philo-
phy. For there is no method of demonstration, or form of
interpreting nature, so excellent as to be able to afford and
supply matter for knowledge, as well as to defend and sup-
port the mind against error and failure. But those who
resolve not to conjecture and divine, but to discover and
know, not to invent buffooneries and fables about worlds,
but to inspect, and as it were dissect the nature of this real
world, must derive all from things themselves. Nor can
any substitution or compensation of wit, meditation, or
argument (were the whole wit of all combined in one), sup-
ply the place of this labour, investigation, and personal
examination of the world; our method then must neces-
sarily be pursued or the whole for ever abandoned. But

20 THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK.

men have so conducted themselves hitherto, that it is
little to be wondered at if nature do not disclose herself
to them.

For in the first place the defective and fallacious evi-
dence of our senses, a system of observation slothful and
unsteady as though acting from chance, a tradition vain
and depending on common report, a course of practice in-
tent upon effects and servile, blind, dull, vague, and abrupt
experiments, and lastly our careless and meagre natural
history, have collected together, for the use of the under-
standing, the most defective materials as regards philo-
sophy and the sciences.

In the next place a preposterous refinement, and as it
were ventilation of argument, is attempted as a late re-
medy for a matter become clearly desperate, and neither
makes any improvement, nor removes errors. There re-
mains no hope therefore of greater advancement and pro-
gress unless by some restoration of the sciences.

But this must commence entirely with natural history.
For it is useless to clean the mirror if it have no images
to reflect, and it is manifest that we must prepare proper
matter for the understanding as. well as steady support.
But our history, like our logic, differs in many respects,
from the received, in its end or office, in its very matter
and compilation, in its nicety, in its selection, and in its
arrangements relatively to what follows.

For in the first place, we begin with that species of natural
history which is not so much calculated to amuse by the
variety of its objects, or to offer immediate results by its
experiments, as to throw a light upon the discovery of
causes, and to present as it were its bosom as the first nurse
of philosophy. For although we regard principally effects
and the active division of the sciences, yet we wait for the
time of harvest, and do not go about to reap moss and a
green crop: being sufficiently aware that well formed axioms
draw whole crowds of effects after them, and do not manifest
their effects partially but in abundance. But we wholly
condemn and banish that unreasonable and puerile desire of
immediately seizing some pledges as it were of new effects,
which, like the apple of Atalanta, retard our course—such
then is the office of our natural history.

With regard to its compilation, we intend not to form
a history of nature at liberty and in her usual course,
when she proceeds willingly and acts of her own accord
(as for instance the history of the heavenly bodies, me-

THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK. ae

teors, the earth and sea, minerals, plants, animals), but
much rather a history of nature constrained and perplexed,
as she is seen when thrust down from her proper rank and
harassed and modelled by the art and contrivance of man.
We will therefore go through all the experiments of the
mechanical and the operative part of the liberal arts, and
all those of different practical schemes which have not yet
been put together so as to form a peculiar art: as far as
we have been able to investigate them and it will suit our
purpose. Besides (to speak the truth), without paying
any attention to the pride of man, or to appearances, we
consider this branch of much more assistance and support
than the other: since the nature of things betrays itself
more by means of the operations of art than when at per-
fect liberty.

Nor do we present the history of bodies alone, but have
thought it moreover right to exert our diligence in compil-
ing a separate history of properties: we mean those which
may be called the cardinal properties of nature, and of
which its very elements are composed, namely, matter with
its first accidents and appetites, such as density, rarity,
heat, cold, solidity, fluidity, weight, levity, and many
others.

But with regard to the nicety of natural history, we
clearly require a much more delicate and simple form of
experiments than those which are obvious. For we bring
out and extract from obscurity many things which no one
would have thought of investigating, unless he were pro-
ceeding by a sure and steady path to the discovery of
causes; since they are in themselves of no great use, and
it is clear that they were not sought for on their own
account, but that they bear the same relation to things
- and effects, that the letters of the alphabet do to discourse
and words, being useless indeed in themselves, but the ele-
ments of all language.

In the selection of our reports and experiments, we con-
sider that we have been more cautious for mankind than
any of our predecessors. For we admit nothing but as an
eye witness, or at least upon approved and rigorously ex-
amined testimony; so that nothing is magnified into the
miraculous, but our reports are pure and unadulterated by
fables and absurdity. Nay, the commonly received and
repeated falsehoods, which by some wonderful neglect have
held their ground for many ages and become inveterate,
are by us distinctly proscribed and branded, that they may

a2 THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK.

no longer molest learning. For as it has been well ob-
served, that the tales, superstitions, and trash which nurses
instil imto children, seriously corrupt their minds, so are
we careful and anxious whilst managing and watching over
the infancy, as it were, of philosophy committed to the
charge of natural history, that it should not from the first
become habituated to any absurdity. In every new and
rather delicate experiment, although to us it may appear
sure and satisfactory, we yet publish the method we em-
ployed, that, by the discovery of every attendant circum-
stance, men may perceive the possibly latent and inherent
errors, and be roused to proofs of a more certain and exact
nature if such there be. Lastly, we intersperse the whole
with advice, doubts, and cautions, casting out and restrain-
ing as it were all phantoms by a sacred ceremony and ex-
orcism.

Finally, since we have learnt how much experience and
history distract the powers of the human mind, and how
difficult it is (especially for young or prejudiced intellects)
to become at the first acquainted with nature, we frequently
add some observations of our own, by way of showing the
first tendency, as it were, and inclination or aspect of
history towards philosophy ; thus assuring mankind that
they will not always be detained in the ocean of history,
and also preparing for the time when we shall come
to the work of the understanding. And by such a
natural history, as we are describing, we think that safe
and convenient access is opened to nature, and solid and
ready matter furnished to the understanding.

But after furnishing the understanding with the most
surest helps and precautions, and having completed, by a
rigorous levy, a complete host of divine works, nothing re-
mains to be done but to attack Philosophy herself. Ina
matter so arduous and doubtful, however, a few reflections
must necessarily be here inserted, partly for instruction
and partly for present use.

The first of these is, that we should offer some examples
of our method and course of investigation and discovery,
as exhibited in particular subjects; preferring the most
dignified subjects of our inquiry, and such as differ the
most from each other, so that in every branch we may have
an example. Nor do we speak of those examples, which
are added to particular precepts and rules by way of illus-
tration (for we have furnished them abundantly in the
second part of our work), but we mean actual types and

ee ee Fe yee ee ee Pe

THE DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK, 23.

models calculated to place, as it were, before our eyes the
whole process of the mind, and the continuous frame and
order of discovery in particular subjects selected for their
variety and importance. For we recollected that in mathe-
matics, with the diagram before our eyes, the demonstra-
tion easily and clearly followed, but without this advantage
every thing appeared intricate and more subtile than was
really the case. We devote, therefore, the FOURTH PART
of our work to such examples, which is in fact nothing more
than a particular and fully developed application of the
second part.
Butthe rirrH PARTis only used for a temporary purpose,
whilst the rest are being perfected, and is paid down as
interest, until the principal can be raised. For we rush not
so blindly to our object, as to neglect any thing useful on
our way. Wecompose this fifth part of the work therefore
of those matters which we have either discovered, tried, or
added; without, however, employing our own method and
rules for interpretation, but merely making the same use of
our understanding as others are wont to do in their inves-
tigations and discoveries. For from our constant inter-
course with nature, we both anticipate greater results from
our meditations than the mere strength of our wit would
warrant; and yet such results as have been mentioned may
also serve as inns upon the road for the mind to repose it-
self awhile on its way to more certain objects. We protest,
in the mean time, against any great value being set
upon that which has not been discovered or proved by
the true form of interpretation. There is no reason, how-
ever, for any one to be alarmed at such suspense of judg-
ment in our method of teaching, which does not assert ab-
solutely that nothing can be known, but that nothing can
be known without a determined order and method; and in
the mean time has settled some determined gradations of
certitude, until the mind can repose in the full developement
of causes. Nor were those schools of philosophers, who
professed absolute scepticism, inferior to the others which
took upon themselves to dogmatise. They did not, how-
ever, prepare helps for the senses and understanding as we
have done, but at once abolished all belief and authority,
which is a totally different, nay almost opposite matter.
Lastly, the stxTH PART of our work (to which the rest
are subservient and auxiliary) discloses and propounds that
philosophy which is reared and formed by the legitimate
pure and strict method of investigation previously taught

24 THE DISTRIBUTION OF. THE WORK.

and prepared. But it is both beyond our power and ex-
poe to perfect and conclude this last part. We will,

owever, furnish no contemptible beginning (if our hopes
deceive us not), and men’s good fortune will furnish the

result ; such, perhaps, as men cannot easily comprehend

or define in the present state of things and the mind. For
we treat not only of contemplative enjoyment, but of the
common affairs and fortune of mankind, and of a com-
plete power of action. For man as the minister and inter-
preter of nature does, and understands, as much as he has

observed of the order, operation, and mind of nature; and.

neither knows nor is able todo more. Neither is it pos-
sible for any power to loosen or burst the chain of causes,
nor is nature to be overcome except by submission. There-
fore those two objects, human knowledge and power, are
really the same; and failure in action chiefly arises from
the ignorance of causes. For every thing depends upon
our fixing the mind’s eye steadily in order to receive their
images exactly as they exist, and may God never permit us
to give out the dream of our fancy as 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 stamps
of the Creator on his creatures. .

May thou, therefore, O Father, who gavest the light of
vision as the first fruits of creation, and hast inspired the
countenance of man with the light of the understanding as
the completion of thy works, guard and direct this work
which, proceeding from thy bounty, seeks in return thy
glory. When thou turnedst to look upon the works of thy
hands, thou sawest that all were very good and restedst.
But man, when he turned towards the works of his hands,
saw that they were all vanity and vexation of spirit, and
had no rest. Wherefore if we labour in thy works, thou
wilt make us partakers of that which thou beholdest and
of thy rest. We humbly pray that our present disposition
may continue firm, and that thou mayest be willing to
endow thy family of mankind with new gifts through our
hands, and the hands_of those to whom thou wilt accord
the same disposition,

Niele Aid ie ahd ae

SNe oe eee oe

The First Part of the Instauration, which comprehends the
Divisions of the Sciences, is wanting. But they can be
partly gig the Second Book, “ On the Progress to
be made in Divine and Human Learning.”

Next followeth the Second Part of the Instauration, which
exhibits the Art of Interpreting Nature and of making a
right Use of the Understanding ; not, however, embodied
in a regular Treatise, but only summarily digested in

Aphorisms.

THE SECOND PART OF THE WORK WHICH IS CALLED

NOVUM ORGANUM;
OR,
TRUE SUGGESTIONS FOR THE INTERPRETATION
OF NATURE.

PREFACE.

———

Tury who have presumed to dogmatise on Nature, as on
some well investigated subject, either from self-conceit or
arrogance, and in the professorial style, have inflicted the
ereatest 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 opmion :
and their own activity has not counterbalanced the mis-
chief they have occasioned by corrupting and destroying
that of others. They again who have entered upon a con-
trary 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, however, derived their opi-
nion 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 dog-
matism, 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 pres-
sing 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 possibility of any thing
being known, but to put it to the test of experience. Yet
they themselves, by only employing the power of the un-
derstanding, 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. It consists in determining the degrees of cer-
tainty, whilst we, as it were, restore the senses to their
former rank, but generally reject that operation of the mind
which follows close upon the senses, and open and establish
a new and certain course for the mind from the first actual

28 PREFACE.

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 sup-
port for the mind, and suspected its natural and sponta-
neous mode of action. But this is now employed too late
as a remedy, when all is clearly lost, and after the mind,
by the daily habit and intercourse of life, has become pre-
possessed with corrupted doctrines, and filled with the
vainest idols. The art of logic therefore being (as we have
mentioned) too late a precaution, and in no way remedying
the matter, has tended more to confirm 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 perpetually from the very first,
and attaining our end as it were by mechanical aid. If
men, for instance, had attempted mechanical labours with
their hands alone, and without the power and aid of instru-
ments, 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 into 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 pageaut,
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
workmen, 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 prepared, 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 excellence and acuteness of their wits; or even
strengthen their minds with logic, which may be considered
as an athletic preparation, but yet do not desist (if we
rightly consider the matter) from applying their own un-

PREFACE. 29

derstandings merely with all this zeal and effort. Whilst
nothing is more clear, than that in every great work exe-
cuted by the hand of man without machines or implements,
it is impossible for the strength of individuals to be in-
creased, 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 extin-
guishing and removing contradiction and irritation of mind,
to leave the honor and reverence due to the ancients un-
touched and undiminished, so that we can perform our in-
tended work, and yet enjoy the benefit of our respectful
moderation. For if we should profess to offer something
better than the ancients, and yet should pursue the same
course as they have done, we could never, by any artifice, con-
trive to avoid the imputation of having engaged in a contest
or rivalry as to our respective wits, excellences, or talents ;
which though neither inadmissible or new (for why should
we not blame and point out any thing 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 of the dis-
proportion of our strength. But since our present plan
leads us to open an entirely different course to the under-
standing, 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 of a guide, which re-
quires a moderate share of authority and good fortune,
rather than talents and excellence. This first admonition
relates to persons, the next to things.

We make no attempt to disturb the system of 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 harangues,
are employed and are of service in the duties of the pro-
fessor, and the affairs of civil life. Nay, we openly ex-
press 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

-30 PREFACE.

both) two sources, and two distributions of learning, and
in like manner two tribes, and as it were kindred families
of contemplators or philosophers, without any hostility or
alienation between them; but rather allied and united by
mutual assistance. Let there be in short one method of
cultivating the sciences, and another of discovering them.
And as for those who prefer and more readily receive the
former, on account of 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 undertaking, and attain what they pursue. But
if any individual desire and is anxious not merely to adhere
to and make use of present discoveries, 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 demonstration, let
him, as a true son of science (if such be his wish), join
with us; that when he has left the antichambers of nature
trodden by the multitude, an entrance may at last be dis-
covered to her inner apartments. And in order to be
better understood, and to render our meaning more fami-
liar by assigning determinate names, we have accustomed
ourselves to call the one method the anticipation of the
mind, and the other the interpretation of nature.

We have still one request left. We have at least re-
flected and taken pains in order to render our propositions
not only true, but of easy and familiar access to men’s
minds, however wonderfully prepossessed and limited. Yet
it is but just that we should obtain this favor from man-
kind (especially in so great a restoration of learning and
the sciences), that whosoever may be desirous of forming
any determination upon an opinion of this our work either
from his own perceptions, or the crowd of authorities, or
the forms of 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 become accustomed
to the subtilty of things which is manifested by experi-
ence; and will correct the depraved and deeply rooted
habits of his mind by a seasonable and as it were just hesi-
tation: and then finally Gf he will) use his judgment when
he has begun to be master of himself. ,

SUMMARY OF THE SECOND PART,

DIGESTED IN APHORISMS.

APHORISMS.
On the Interpretation of Nature and the Empire of Man.

1. Man, as the minister and interpreter of nature, 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.

2. 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 understand-
ing 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 under-
standing.

3. Knowledge and human power are synonymous, since
the ignorance of the cause frustrates the effect. For nature
is only subdued by submission, and that which in contem-
plative philosophy corresponds with the cause, in practical
science becomes the rule.

4, Man, whilst operating, can only apply or withdraw
natural bodies; nature, internally, performs the rest.

5. Those who become practically versed in nature, are
the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchy-
mist, and the magician, but all (as matters now stand) with
faint efforts and meagre success.

6. 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.

7. The creations of the mind and hand appear very nu-
merous 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.

8. Even the effects already discovered are due to chance

32 NOVUM ORGANUM.

and experiment rather than to the sciences. For our pre-
sent sciences are nothing more than peculiar arrangements

of matters already discovered, and not methods for disco-

very, or plans for new operations.

9. The sole cause and root of almost every defect in the
sciences is this; that whilst we falsely admire and extol
the powers of the human mind, we do not search’for its real
helps.

10. The subtilty of nature is far 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 no one to stand by and observe it.

~ 11. As the present sciences are useless for the discovery
of effects, So the present system of logic is useless for the
discovery of the sciences.

12. The present system of logic rather assists in con-
firming and rendering inveterate the errors founded on
vulgar notions, than in searching after truth ; and is there-
fore more hurtful than useful. :

13. The syllogism is not applied to the principles of the
sciences, and is of no avail in intermediate axioms, as being
very unequal to the subtilty of Nature. It forces assent,
therefore, and not things. 3

14. The syllogism consists of propositions, propositions
of words, words are the signs of notions. If therefore the
notions (which form the basis of the whole) be confused
and carelessly abstracted from things, there is no solidity
in the superstructure. Our only hope, then, is in genuine
induction.

15. We haveno 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, repul-
sion, element, matter, form, and the like. They, are all
fantastical and ill defined.

16. 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 sometimes confused by the mutability of matter
and the intermixture of things. All the rest, which men
have hitherto employed, are errors; and improperly ab-
stracted, and deduced, from things.

17. 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.

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”

Still more is this the case in axioms and inferior proposi~ |

tions derived from syllogisms.

18. The present discoveries in science are such as lie
immediately beneath the surface of common notions. It
is necessary, however, 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.

19. There are and can exist but two ways of investigat-
ing 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 particulars, by ascending
continually and gradually, till it finally arrives at the most
general axioms, which is the true but unattempted way.

20. The understanding when left to itself proceeds by
the 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 expe-
riment. But these evils are augmented by logic, for the
sake of the ostentation of disputes

21. The understanding when left to itself in a man of a
steady, patient, and reflecting disposition (especially when
unimpeded by received doctrines), makes some attempt in
the right way, but with little effect; since the understand-
ing, undirected and unassisted, is unequal to and unfit for
the task of vanquishing the obscurity of things.

22. 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 gradually rises to those principles
which are really the most common in nature.

23. There is no small difference between the idols of the
human mind, and the zdeas of the divine mind; that is to
say between certain idle dogmas, and the real stamp and
impression of created objects, as they are found in nature.

24. Axioms 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
VOL, XIV. a i

NOVUM ORGANUM. © 33

th

34 * NOVUM ORGANUM.

properly and regularly abstracted from particulars, easily
point out and define new particulars, and therefore impart
activity to the sciences.

25. The axioms now in use are derived from a scanty
handful, as it were, of experience, and a few particulars of
frequent occurrence, whence they are of much the same
dimensions or extent as their origin. And if any neglected
or unknown instance occurs, the axiom is saved by some
frivolous distinction, when it would be more consistent
with truth to amend it. . :

26. We are wont, for the sake of distinction, to call that
human reasoning which we apply to nature, the anticipa-
tion of nature (as being rash and premature); and that
which is properly deduced from things the interpretation
of nature.

27. Anticipations are sufficiently powerful in producing
unanimity, for if men were all to become even uniformly .
mad, they might agree tolerably well with each other. ’

28. 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 immediately 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 discord-
ant, and almost like the mysteries of faith.

29. In sciences founded on opinions and dogmas it is =~
right to make use of anticipations and logic, if you wish to ©
force assent rather than things.

30. If all the capacities of all ages should unite and
combine and transmit their labours, no great progress will
be made in learning by anticipations; because the radical
errors, and those which occur in the first process’ of the
mind, are not cured by the excellence of subsequent
means and remedies. .

31. It is in vain to expect any great progress in the
sciences by the superinducing or engrafting new matters
upon old. An instauration 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.

32. The ancient authors, and all others, are left in un-
disputed possession of their honours. For we enter into
no comparison of capacity or talent but of method; and
assume the part of a guide rather than of a critic.

NOVUM ORGANUM. : 390

33. To speak plainly, no correct judgment can be
formed either of our method, or its discoveries, by those
anticipations 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.

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

35. 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 conten-
tion where we differ in first principles, and our very no-
tions, and even in our forms of demonstration.

36. We have but one simple method of delivering our
sentiments: namely, we must bring men to particulars, and
their regular series and order, and they must for a while
renounce their notions and_begin to form an acquaintance
with things. : ’

37. Our method and that of the sceptics agree in some
respects at first setting.,out: but differ most widely and
are completely opposed 40 each other in their conclusion.
For they roundly assert that nothing can be known; we,
that but a small part of nature can be known by the pre-
sent method. Their next step however is to destroy the
authority of the senses and understanding, whilst we in-
vent and supply them with assistance. _

38. 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 ob-
tained, will again meet and trouble us in the instauration
of the sciences, unless mankind, when forewarned, guard
themselves with all possible care against them.

39. 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. -

_ 40. The formation of notions and axioms on the founda-
tion of true induction, is the only fitting remedy, by which
we can ward off and expel these idols. It is however of

36 - NOVUM ORGANUM.

great service to point them out. For the doctrine of idols
bears the same relation to the interpretation of nature, as
that of the confutation of sophisms does to common logic.

41. The idols of the tribe are 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 con-
trary, 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 im-
part their own properties to different objects, from which
rays are emitted, and distort and disfigure them.

42. The idols of the den are those of each individual.
For every body (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 edu-
cation and intercourse with others, or from his reading,
and the authority acquired by those whom he reverences
and admires, or from the different impressions 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 variable, con-
fused, and as it were actuated by chance; and Heraclitus
said well that men search for knawledge in lesser worlds
and not in the greater or common‘world.

43. 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 won-
derful 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 the under-
standing, throw every thing into confusion, and lead man-
kind into vain and innumerable controversies and fallacies.

44, Lastly, there are idols which have crept into men’s
minds from the various dogmas of peculiar systems of phi-
losophy, and also from the perverted rules of demonstra-
tion, 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 theatrical worlds. Nor do we speak
only of the present systems, or of the philosophy and sects

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,

NOVUM ORGANUM. oT :

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 gene-
rally the same. Nor, again, do we allude merely to general
systems, but also to many elements and axioms of sciences,
which haye become inveterate by tradition, implicit cre-
dence, and neglect. We must, however, discuss each spe-
cies of idols more fully and distinctly in order to guard the
human understanding against them.

45.* 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 sui generis, and most irregular, will yet invent
parallels and conjugates, and relatives where no such thing
is. Hence the fiction, that all celestial bodies were 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, to keep square
with those other three which are objects of our senses. The
relative rarity of the elements (as they are called) is arbi-
trarily made to vary in tenfold progression, 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.

46. The human understanding, when any proposition
has been once laid down (either from general admission and
belief, or from the pleasure it affords), forces every thing
else to add fresh support and confirmation; and although
more cogent and abundant instances may exist to the con-
trary, yet either does 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 conclusions. It was well answered by him 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

* Hence to Aphorism 53 treats of the idols of the tribe.

ras °. NOVUM ORGANUM.

craftily in philosophy and the sciences; in which a settled
maxim vitiates and governs every other circumstance, though

the latter be much more worthy of confidence. Besides

_ even 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 aflirmatives than negatives, whereas it ought
duly and regularly to be impartial; nay, in establishing any —
true axiom, the negative instance is the most powerful.

47. 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 in-
flated. It then begins almost imperceptibly to conceive and
suppose that every thing is similar to the few objects which
have taken possession of the mind; whilst it is very slow
and unfit for the transition to the remote and heterogeneous
instances, by which axioms are tried as by fire, unless the
office be imposed upon it by severe regulations and. a
powerful authority.

48. The human understanding is active and cannot halt
or rest, but even, though without effect, still presses forward.

. Thus we 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 eternity has flowed on down to the present day, since
the usually received distinction of an infinity, a parte ante
and a parte post cannot hold good: for it would thence fol-
low 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 infinite divisibility of
lines, arising from the weakness of our minds, which weak-
ness interferes to still greater disadvantage with the dis-
covery 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, how-

. ever, whilst aiming at further progress, it falls back to
what is actually less advanced, namely, final causes; for
they are cleatly more allied to man’s own nature, than the
system of the universe; and from this source they have
wonderfully corrupted philosophy. But he would be an
unskilful and shallow philosopher, who should seek for

- causes in the greatest generalities, and not be anxious to
discover them in subordinate objects.

49. The human understanding resembles not a dry light,

co
1

NOVUM ORGANUM. , 39

but admits a tincture of the will and passions, which gene-
rate 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 ; paradoxes, from a fear of the
opinion of the vulgar; in short, his feelings imbue and
corrupt his understanding in innumerable and sometimes
imperceptible ways.
50. 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 preponderates over every thing, 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 inclosed in tangible
_ bodies is concealed and escapes us. All that more delicate
change of formation in the parts of coarser substances (vul-
garly called alteration, but in fact a change of position in
the smallest particles) is equally unknown ; and yet, unless
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 extending their sphere or acuteness; all the
better interpretations of nature are worked out by instances,
_ and fit and apt experiments, where the senses only judge
of oR experiment, the experiment of nature and the thing
itself. |
51. 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 na-
ture; such was the method employed by the school of
Democritus, which made greater progress in penetrating
nature than the rest. It is best to consider matter, its con-
formation, and the changes of that conformation, its own
action, 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. Such are the idols
of the tribe, which arise either from the uniformity of the
constitution of man’s spirit, or its prejudices, or its limited

40 NOVUM ORGANUM.

faculties, or restless agitation, or from the interference of
the passions, or the incompetency of the senses, or the mode
of their impressions.

53. The idols* of the den derive their origin from the
peculiar 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 understanding. |

54. 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 tothem. If men of this description apply
themselves to philosophy and contemplations of an universal
nature, they wrest and corrupt them by their preconceived
fancies; of which Aristotle 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
coincide with his favourite pursuit.

55. The greatest and, perhaps, radical distinction be-
tween 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 differences, but those that are sub-
lime and discursive recognise and compare even the most
delicate and general resemblances. Each of them readily
falls into excess, by catching either at nice distinctions or
shadows of resemblance.

56. Some dispositions evince an unbounded admiration:

of antiquity, others eagerly embrace novelty; and but few
can preserve 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 pre-
judicial to the sciences and philosophy, and instead of a
correct judgment, we have but the factions of the ancients

* Hence to Aphorism 59 treats of the idols of the den.

“4
ye -
+ ae =

NOVUM ORGANUM.. * 41

and moderns. Truth is not to be sought in the good for-
tune of any particular conjuncture of time, which 1s uncer-
tain, 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. se

57. 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 composition and formation stupifies and relaxes it.
We have a good instance of this in the school of Leucippus
and Democritus compared with others: for they applied
themselves so much to particulars as almost to neglect the
general structure of things, whilst the others were so as-
tounded whilst gazing on the stracture, that they did not
penetrate the simplicity of nature. These two species of
contemplation must therefore be interchanged, and each
employed in its turn, in order to render the understanding
at once penetrating and capacious, and to avoid the incon-
veniences we have mentioned, and the idols that result
from them.

58. Let such, therefore, be our precautions in contem-
plation, that we may ward off and expel the idols of the
den: which mostly owe their birth either to some pre-
dominant 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 narrowness of the sub-
ject. In general he who contemplates nature should sus-
pect whatever particularly takes and fixes his understand-
ing, and should use so much the more caution to preserve
it equable and unprejudiced.

59. The idols* of the market are the most troublesome
of all, those namely which have entwined themselves round
the understanding from the associations of words and names,
For men imagine that their reason governs words, whilst,
in fact, words react upon the understanding ; and this has
rendered philosophy and the sciences sophistical and inac-
tive. Words are 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 disputes of learned men

* Hence to Aphorism 6! treats of the idols of the market.

‘

&

s a

42 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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; so
that we must necessarily have recourse to particular in-
stances, and their regular series and arrangement, as we
shall mention when we come to the mode and scheme of
determining notions and axioms.

_ 60. 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 inat-
tention left without a name, so names are formed by fanciful
imaginations which are without an object), or they are the
names of actual objects, but confused, badly defined, and
hastily and irregularly abstracted from things. Fortune,
the 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, be-
cause 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 signifi-
cations of this word are consistent. It will be found that
the word moist is nothing but a confused sign of different
actions admitting 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

- toa consistency; 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 clear that 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

ts ait a! hie

= *
NOVUM ORGANUM. | 43

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 corrupt, 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 — as a greater or less number of things
come before the senses. :

61. The idols of the theatre*¥ are not innate, nor do they
introduce 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 undertake their confutation would not be con-
sistent with our declarations. For since we neither agree
in our principles nor our demonstrations, all argument is '
out of the question. And itis fortunate that the ancients
are left in possession of their honours. We detract nothing
from them, seeing our whole doctrine 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 indivi-
dual 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.

62. The idols of the theatre or of theories are numerous,
and may and perhaps will be still more so. For unless
men’s minds had been now occupied for many ages in
religious and theological considerations, and civil govern-
ments (especially monarchies) had been averse to novelties

* Hence to Aphorism 68 treats of the idols of the theatre.

44 NOVUM ORGANUM.

of that nature eyen 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 to contumely and
envy), there is no doubt that many other sects 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 is it 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 philo-
sophy either too much from a few topics, or too little from
many; in either case their philosophy is founded on too
narrow a basis of experiment and natural history, and de-
cides on too scanty grounds. For the theoretic philo-
sopher seizes various common circumstances by experiment,
without reducing them to certainty or examining and fre-
quently considering them, and relies for the rest upon
meditation and the activity of his wit.

There are other philosophers who have diligently and
accurately attended to a few experiments, and have thence
presumed to deduce and invent systems of philosophy,
forming every thing to conformity with them.

A third set from their faith and religious veneration in-
troduce theology and traditions; the absurdity of some
amongst 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 superstitious.

63. 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 exter-
nal moving cause, and imposed innumerable arbitrary dis-
tinctions upon the nature of things; being every where
more anxious as to definitions in teaching and the accurac
of the wording of his propositions, than the internal trut

=

- NOVUM ORGANUM. 45

of things. And this is best shown by a comparison of his
philosophy 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 common nature of fire, and
their condensation according to Heraclitus, exhibit some
sprinkling of natural philosophy, the nature of things, and —
experiment, whilst Aristotle’s physics are mere logical
terms, and he remodelled the same subject in his metaphysics
under a more imposing title, and more as a realist than a
nominalist. Nor is much stress to be laid on his frequent
recourse 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.

64. The empiric school produces dogmas of a more
deformed and monstrous nature than the sophistic or
theoretic school: not being founded in the light of com-
mon notions (which however poor and superficial, is yet in
a manner universal and of a general tendency), but in 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 augur,
_ that if men be hereafter induced by our exhortations to
apply seriously to experiments (bidding farewell to the so-
phistic doctrines), there will then be imminent danger from
empirics, owing to the premature and forward haste of the
understanding and its jumping or flying to generalities
_and the principles of things. We ought therefore already
to meet the evil.

65. The corruption of philosophy by the mixing of it

_ * Itis thus the Vulcanists and Neptunians have framed their opposite theories
in geology. Phrenology is a modern instance of hasty generalization.

46 NOVUM ORGANUM.

up with superstition and theology is of a much wider ex-
tent, 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 fancy, than to those of vulgar notions.
The disputatious and sophistic school entraps the under-
standing, 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 overcharged, 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, final
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
understanding. Yet some of the moderns have indulged
this folly, with such consummate inconsiderateness, that
they have endeavoured to build a system of natural philo-
sophy on the first chapter of Genesis, the book of Job, and
other parts of Scripture; seeking thus the dead amongst
the living. And this folly is the more to be prevented and
restrained, because not only fantastical philosophy 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.

66. Having spoken of the vitious authority of the sys-
tems founded either on vulgar notions, or on a few experi-
ments, or on superstition, we must now consider the faulty
subjects for contemplation, especially in natural philosophy.
The human understanding is perverted by observing the
power of mechanical arts, in which bodies are very mate-
rially changed by composition or separation, and is induced
to suppose that something similar takes place in the uni-
versal nature of things. Hence the fiction of elements, and
their cooperation in forming natural bodies. Again when
man reflects upon the entire liberty of nature, he meets with
particular species of things, as animals, plants, minerals, 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

#

¥

NOVUM ORGANUM. 47

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 quali-
ties of things and the operations of attraction, repulsion,
attennation, inspissation, dilatation, astringency, separa~-
tion, 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 com-
position, or at any rate neglect to advance by greater and
more diligent observation to the third and fourth qualities,
thus terminating their contemplation prematurely. Nor
are these powers (or the like) to be investigated onl
among the medicines for the human body, but also in all
changes of other natural bodies. |

A greater evil arises from the contemplation and investi-
gation 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, cor-
ruption, augmentation, diminution, alteration, and transla-
tion. For this is their meaning: if a body, unchanged in
other respects, is moved from its place, this is translation ;
if 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 augmentation and diminution ; if the change be
continued so as to vary the species and substance, and
transfuse them to others, this 1s 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; they merely sug-
gest how far, and not how or whence. For they exhibit
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 introduce natural and violent motion,

48 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 sepa-
rated 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 re-
sume 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 comparison of the two.

Another considerable evil is, that men in their systems
and contemplations bestow their labour upon the investi-
gation 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 persist 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.

67. The understanding must also be cautioned against
the intemperance of systems, so far as regards its giving
or withholding 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 dictatorial. The other in those who have introduced
scepticism, and vague unbounded inquiry. The former
subdues, the latter enervates the understanding. The
Aristotelian philosophy, after destroying other systems (as
the Ottomans do their brethren) by its disputations, con-
futations, decided upon every thing, and Aristotle himself
then raises up questions at will, in order to settle them ;
so that every thing 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,

NOVUM ORGANUM. 49

Hippias, and others, who were ashamed of appearing not
to doubt upon any subject. But the new academy dog-
matised in their scepticism, and held it as their tenet.
Although this method be more honest than arbitrary deci-
sion (for its followers allege that they by no means con-
found all inquiry, like Pyrrho and his disciples, but hold
doctrines which they can follow as probable, though they
cannot maintain thein to be true), yet when the human mind
has once despaired of discovering truth, every thing begins
to languish. Hence men turn aside into pleasant contro-
versies and discussions, 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.

68. 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.

69. Vicious demonstrations are the muniments and sup-
port of idols, and those which we possess in logic, merely
subject and enslave the world to human thoughts, and
thoughts to words. But demonstrations are, in some man-
ner, themselves systems of philosophy and science. 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 incom-
petent. 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. 2dly. Notions are improperly abstracted
from the senses, and indeterminate and confused when
they ought to be the reverse. 3dly. The induction that is
employed is improper, for it determines the principles
of sciences by simple enumeration, without adopting ex-
clusions, and resolutions, or just separations of nature.
Lastly, the usual method of discovery and proof by first
establishing the most general propositions, then applying
and proving the intermediate axioms according to them, is

VOL. XIV. E

50 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 inter-
preting nature, after having gone through the above ex-
piatory process and purification of the mind.

70. But experience is by far the best demonstration,
provided it adhere to the experiment actually made; for if
that experiment be transferred to other subjects apparently
similar, unless with proper and methodical caution, it be-
comes fallacious. The present method of experiment is
blind and stupid. Hence men wandering and roaming
without any determined course,and 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 carelessly,
and as it were in sport, making some little variation in a
known experiment, and then if they fail, they become dis-
gusted and give up the attempt: nay, if 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 alchymists on gold. -But such
conduct shows their method to be no less unskilful than
mean. For nobody can successfully investigate 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 ex-
periment, yet they almost always turn with premature and
hasty zeal to practice, not merely on account of the advan-
tage and benefit to be derived from it, but in order to seize
upon some security in a new undertaking of their not em-
ploying the remainder 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 estab-
lished, prepare us not for a limited but abundant practice,

NOVUM ORGANUM. 5]

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 re-
quires some mention of those external signs of the weak-
ness in practice of the received systems of philosophy and
contemplation* 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.

71. The sciences we possess have been principally de-
rived 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 so-
phists, which the contemptuous spirit of those who deemed
themselves philosophers, rejected and transferred to the
rhetoricians Gorgias, Protagoras, Hippias, Polus, might
well suit the whole tribe, such as Plato, Aristotle, Zeno,
Epicurus, Theophrastus, and their successors Chrysippus,
Carneades, and the rest. There was only this difference
between them, the former were mercenary vagabonds, tra-
velling about to different states, making a show of their
wisdom and requiring pay; the latter, more dignified and
noble, in possession of fixed habitations, opening schools,
and teaching philosophy gratuitously. Both, however
(though differing in other respects), were professorial, and
reduced every subject to controversy, establishing and de-
fending 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, Philolaus, and the rest (for I omit Pythagoras
as being superstitious), did not (that we are aware) open
schools; but betook themselves to the investigation of
truth with greater silence, and with more severity and

* See Ax. 61. towards the end. This subject extends to Ax. 78.

oy NOVUM ORGANUM.

simplicity: that is, with less affectation and ostentation.
Hence in our opinion they acted more advisedly, 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 were 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,
when 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 know-
ledge of antiquity.” For they certainly have this in com-
mon with children, that they are prone to talking and
incapable of generation, their wisdom being loquacious, and
unproductive of effects. Hence the external signs derived
from the origin and birthplace of our present philosophy
~ are not favourable.

72. Norare 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 experience. 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, Be-
sides, a vast number of climates and zones, in which innume-
rable 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. Wherefore if
external signs were to be taken from the time of the
nativity or procreation (as in astrology), nothing extra-

&” «¢

NOVUM ORGANUM. ad

ordinary could be predicted of these early systems of
erat

73. Of all signs 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 expe-
riment 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 expe-
riments were first discovered in medicine, and that men
afterwards built their philosophical systems upon them,
and searched for and assigned causes, instead of the inverse
method of discovering and deriving experiments from philo-
sophy 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 discussion and the con-
clusions of reason.

The industry of the alchymists has produced some
effect, by chance however and casualty, or from varying
their experiments (as mechanics also do), and not from any
regular art or theory; the theory they have imagined
rather tending to disturb than to assist experiment. Those
too who have occupied themselves with natural magic (as
they term it) have made but few discoveries, and those
of small import, and bordering on imposture. For which
reason in the same manner as we are cautioned by religion
to show our faith by our works, we may very properly
apply the principle to philosophy, and judge of it by its
works; accounting that to be futile which is unproduc-
tive, and still more so, if instead of grapes and olives it
yield but the thistle and thorns of dispute and contention.

74. 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

54 NOVUM ORGANUM.

would never have happened: namely that the sciences still
continue in their beaten track, and nearly stationary, with-
out 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 improved.
_ 75. 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 con-
fident turn to further advances. They are not, however,
satisfied with confessing so much of themselves, but con-
sider every thing 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 discoyeries
into a calumny on nature, and a source of despair to every
one else. Hence arose the new academy, which openly
professed scepticism and consigned mankind to eternal
darkness. Hence the notion that forms, or the true dif-
ferences of things (which are in fact the laws of simple
action) are beyond man’s reach, and cannot possibly be dis-
covered. Hence those notions in the active and operative
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, any thing similar to the
operations 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 desperation.

76. Nor should we omit the sign afforded by the great
dissension formerly prevalent among philosophers, and the

NOVUM ORGANUM. 55

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, yet there remain innumerable questions and con-
troversies 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 de-
monstration. |

77. 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 dis-
covered; whence it appears that it is so well determined and
founded as to have united the suffrages of both ages; we
will observe—Ist. That the notion of other ancient systems
having ceased after the publication of the works of Aris-
totle is false, for the works of the ancient philosophers sub-
sisted long 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 Roman empire, then the systems of
Aristotle and Plato were preserved in the waves of ages,
like planks of a lighter and less solid nature. 2d. ‘The
notion of unanimity on a clear inspection is found to be fal-
lacious. 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 autho-
rity of others, so that it is rather obsequiousness and con-
currence 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 pre-
sumption 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 multitude,
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

56 NOVUM ORGANUM.

immediately examine what error or fault they have com-
mitted, 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 unpropi-
tious, whether taken from their origin, their fruits, their pro-
gress, the confessions of their authors, or from unanimity.

78. We now come to the causes of errors,* and of such
perseverance in them for ages. These are sufliciently
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 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 philo-
sophy which, in those ages, ground down the sciences by
their numerous treatises more than they increased their
weight. The first cause then of such insignificant progress
in the sciences is rightly referred to the small proportion of
time which has been favourable thereto.

79. 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

* See end of Axiom 61. This subject extends to Axiom 93.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 57

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 abundantly supplied, and the
study of which was the principal occupation of the western
European nations during the third epoch; the rather be-
cause literature flourished about the very time when con-
troversies 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 occupied and wasted in moral philosophy (the the-
ology 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 age during which natural philosophy
appeared principally to flourish 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 at-
tention 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 philo-
sophy has been materially neglected or impeded, it is not
at all surprising that men should have made but little pro-
gress in it, seeing they were attending to an entirely dif-
ferent matter.

80. 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 noble-
man 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 re-
ceive and retain another. In the mean time let no one
expect any great progress in the sciences (especially their »
operative part), unless natural philosophy be applied to
particular sciences, and particular sciences again referred

58 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 things; 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 mo-
tion, rays, sounds, texture, and confirmation 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. :

81. There is another powerful and great cause of the
little advancement of the sciences, which is this: it is
impossible to advance properly in the course when the goal
is not properly fixed. But the real and legitimate goal of
the sciences is the endowment of human life with new
inventions and riches. The great crowd of teachers know
nothing 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 augmen-
tation 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 its own account,
even he will be seen rather to follow contemplation and
the variety of theories than a severe and strict investi-
gation 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 under-
standing 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.

82. 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 cated or wished to open and complete a way

NOVUM ORGANUM. \ 59

for the understanding, setting off from the senses, and
regular well conducted experiment; but that every thing
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 which 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 axioms, but only of what appears to accord with
them. And 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, referring 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.
But this kind of experience is nothing but a loose faggot,
and mere groping in the dark, as men at night try all
means of discovering 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 by 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 proceeded 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 entirely and deserting experience, or in-
volving themselves 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.

60 NOVUM ORGANUM.

83. The evil however has been wonderfully increased by
an opinion, or inveterate conceit, which is both vainglorious
and prejudicial, namely, that the dignity of the human
mind is 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 sub-
jects 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 improperly applied.

84, Again the reverence for antiquity and the authority
of men who have been esteemed great 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 alto-
gether idle, and scarcely accords with the term. For the
old age and increasing 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 anti-
quity, since the world has grown older, and its stock has
been increased and accumulated 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 dishonour-
able 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 disco-
veries of the ancients. :

With regard to authority, it is the greatest weakness to
attribute infinite credit to particular authors, and to refuse
his own prerogative to time, the author of all authors, and,

NOVUM ORGANUM. 61

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 una-
nimity have so enchained the power of man, that. he is
unable (as if bewitched) to become familiar with things
themselves.

85. Nor is it only the admiration of antiquity, authority,
and unanimity, that has forced man’s industry to rest satis-
fied 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 attri-
buted merely to man’s patience and the delicate and well
regulated motion of the hand or of instruments. To take
an instance, the manufactory of clocks is delicate and ac-
curate, 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 preparaton of natural bodies
in mechanical 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 pro-
ductions 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 in-
stanced 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 disco-
vered, one would soon 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

62 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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, and how much men do and speak the same
thing over again, he will pass from admiration of this
variety to astonishment at the 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 view of the operations of the alchymists or magi, he
will perhaps hesitate whether he ought rather to laugh or
to weep. For the alchymist 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 repetition
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
alchymists 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 every thing
by sympathy and antipathy, have assigned false powers
and marvellous 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 any thing at all about
it), we must chiefly observe, that there are only some pecu-
liar and definite objects with which the curious and super-
stitious 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.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 63

86. The admiration of mankind with regard to the arts
and sciences, which is of itself sufficiently simple and al-
most puerile, has been increased by the craft and arti-
fices 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 every thing 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
understanding 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 con-
templation, and to lay up for use, into aphorisms, or short
scattered sentences unconnected by any method, and with-
out 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 com-
plement.

87. The ancient theories have received additional sup-
port and credit from the absurdity and levity of those who
have promoted the new, especially in the active and prac-
tical part of natural philosophy. For there have been
many silly and fantastical fellows who, from credulity or
imposture, have loaded mankind with promises, announcing
and boasting of the prolongation of life, the retarding of
old age, the alleviation of pains, the remedying of natural
defects, the deception of the senses, the restraint and ex-
citement of the passions, the illumination and exaltation of
the intellectual faculties, the transmutation of substances,
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 divi-
nation of future events, the representation of distant ob-
jects, the revelation of hidden objects and the hike. 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 science, as there is in
history between the exploits of Cesar or Alexander, and
those of Amadis de Gaul and Arthur of Britain. For those
illustrious generals are found to have actually performed
greater exploits, than such fictitious heroes are even pre-
tended to have accomplished, by the means, however, of

64 NOVUM ORGANUM.

real action, and not by any fabulous and portentous power.
Yet it is not right to suffer our belief in true history to be
diminished, because it is sometimes injured and violated
by fables. In the mean time we cannot wonder that great
prejudice has been excited against any new propositions
(especially when coupled with any mention of effects to be
produced), by the conduct of impostors who have made a
similar attempt, for their extreme absurdity and the disgust
occasioned by it, has even to this day overpowered every
spirited attempt of the kind. i

88. Want of energy, and the littleness and futility of
the tasks that human industry has undertaken, have pro-
duced 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 repeti-
tion become familiar, is to be observed in every art, namely,
that its promoters convert the weakness of the art itself
into a calumny upon nature: and whatever it in their hands
fails to effect, they pronounce to be physically impossible.
But how can the art ever be condemned whilst it acts as
judge in its own cause? Even the present system of phi-
losophy 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 difficult, 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 compo-
sition and mixture. Upon an accurate observation the
whole tendency of such positions is wilfully to circumscribe
man’s power, and to produce a despair of the means of in-
vention 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 experi-
ence. The only object of such philosophers is to acquire
the reputation of perfection for their own art, and they
are anxious to,obtain the most silly and abandoned re-
nown, by causing a belief that whatever has not yet been
invented and understood can never be so hereafter. But
if any one attempt to give himself up to things, and to dis-
cover something 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,

* See Axiom 75.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 65

the tides, the heavenly system and the like, which appear
enveloped in some degree of mystery, and have hitherto
been treated with but little success. Now it is the greatest
proof of want of skill, to investigate the nature of any ob-
ject in itself alone; for that same nature, which seems con-
cealed 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 soltd without any further inquiry
about the repulsion of separation or the solution of con-
tinuity. But in water-bubbles the same circumstance ap-
pears 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 or-
nament, or unite and compound 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 disco-
veries, worthy of mankind, have been brought to light,
whilst men are satisfied and delighted with such scanty and
puerile tasks, nay even think that they have pursued or
attained some great object in their accomplishment.

89. Nor should we neglect to observe that natural philo-
sophy has, in every age, met with a troublesome and difli-
cult opponent: I mean superstition, and a blind and immo-
derate 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 con-
demned as guilty of impiety towards the gods. Nor did
some of the old fathers of Christianity 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 dis-
cussions 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,
VOL, XIV. F

66 NOVUM ORGANUM.

and brought it into a scientific form, have proceeded to
mingle an undue proportion of the contentious and thorny
philosophy of Aristotle with the substance of religion.

The fictions of those who have not feared to deduce and
confirm 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 solemnity, and gratify men’s pleasing minds with
a variety, but, in the mean time, confound most improperly
things divine and human. Moreover, in these mixtures of
divinity and philosophy the received doctrines of the latter
are alone included, and any novelty, even though it be an
improvement, scarcely escapes banishment and extermina-
tion.

In short, you may find all access to any species of phi-
losophy, 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 ap-
plying what is said of sacred mysteries in holy writ against
those who pry into divine secrets, to the mysteries of nature,
which are not forbidden by any prohibition. Others, with
more cunning, imagine and consider that if secondary
causes be unknown, every thing may more easily be re-
ferred to the divine hand and wand; a matter, as the
think, of the greatest consequence to religion, but Sich
can only really mean that God wishes to be gratified by
means of falsehood. Others fear from past example, lest
motion and change in philosophy 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 dan-
ger 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 approved 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 ob-

NOVUM ORGANUM. 67

served, “ 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 mean
while it is not wonderful that the progress of natural phi-
losophy 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 im-
prudent zeal of others.

90. Again, in the habits and regulations of schools,
universities, and the like assemblies, destined for the abode
of learned men, and the improvement of learning, every
thing is found to be opposed to the progress of the sciences.
For the lectures and exercises are so ordered, that any
thing 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
any 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.
For the pursuits of men in such situations are, as it were,
chained down to the writings of particular authors, and if
any one dare to dissent from them, he is immediately at-
tacked as a turbulent and revolutionary 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 rational, though not the actual, view of the
case: for that administration and government of science
we have spoken of, is wont too rigorously to repress its
growth.

91. 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 cultivation of science and its reward belong not to the
same individual. 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 informed. Nay such progress is not only
deprived of the rewards and beneficence of individuals, but

68 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 wonderful there-
fore that little success has attended that which has been
little honoured. , .

92. But by far the greatest obstacle to the advancement
of the sciences and the undertaking of any new attempt or
department is to be found in men’s despair and the idea of
impossibility. 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 judg-
ment, we must really take heed lest we should be capti-
vated by our affection for an excellent and most beautiful
object, and relax or diminish the severity of our judgment!
and we must diligently examine what gleam of hope shines
upon us, and in what direction it manifests itself, so that
banishing her lighter dreams we may discuss and weigh what-
ever appears of more sound importance. We must consult
the prudence of ordinary life too, which is diffident upon
principle, and in all human matters augurs the worst. Let
us then speak of hope, especially as we are not vain pro-
misers, nor are willing to force or ensnare men’s judgment,

but would rather lead them willingly forward. And al-_

though 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 In-
vention, (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

roduce a gloom than to encourage activity or quicken the
industry of experiment, by causing them to have a worse

NOVUM ORGANUM. 69

and more contemptuous 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 al-
ready known. And these reasons though at first rejected,
were yet proved by subsequent experience, and were the
causes and beginnings of the greatest events.

93. 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. Now in all divine
works, the smallest beginnings lead assuredly to some re-
sult, and the remark in spiritual matters that “The king-
dom of God cometh without observation” is also found to
be true in every great work of divine Providence; so that
every thing glides quietly on without confusion or noise,
and the matter is achieved before men either think or per-
ceive that itis commenced. Nor should we neglect to men-
tion the prophecy of Daniel of the last days of the world,*
“Many shall run to and fro and knowledge shall be in-
creased,” thus plainly hinting and 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.

94. We+ will next give a most potent reason for hope
deduced from the errors of the past, and the ways still
unattempted. For well was an ill governed state thus
reproved,{ “That 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 im-
provement, but since their present unhappy situation is not
owing to the force of circumstances but to your own errors,

* Daniel, c. xii. ver. 4.

+ Hence to Aphorism 108 treats of the grounds of hope to be derived from
correcting former errors.

¢ See Demosthenes’ 3rd Philippic near the beginning, rd yeipisoy éy roic¢
mapeknusoot, ToUTO moog Ta péedovra BéATISOY brdoKE. Ti ody ési
TOUTO; OTL ObTE pLKPdY, OTE pEya OddeY THY DedvTwY ToLObYTwY ipoY,
Kakicg Ta wodypara Exe éweirorye et. WAVE To0oHKEL ToaTTovTwy
dpOy, orw CvéKerto 08d ay EXric hy dura yéverSat BedrTiw, Vo O& Tic
piv pasupiag rijg bperipac, kai rij apereiacg Kexparnke PiduTroc, ric
moewe O’od Kekparnker.

70 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 imagine ‘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 enumeration of them in this
lace.

‘ 95. Those who have treated of the sciences have been
either empirics or dogmatical. 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, ex-
tracts 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
Jays up in the memory the matter afforded by the expe-
riments of natural history or mechanics in its raw state,
but changes and works it in the understanding. We 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.

96. Natural philosophy is not yet to be found unadulte-
rated, but is impure and corrupted ; by logic in the school
of Aristotle, by natural theology in that of Plato, by ma-
thematics in the second school of Plato (that of Proclus
and others) which ought rather to terminate natural philo-
sophy than to generate or create it. We may therefore
hope for better results from pure and unmixed natural
philosophy.

97. 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 rea-
soning is a mere farrago and crude mass made up of a

NOVUM ORGANUM. 71

great deal of credulity and accident, and the puerile no-
tions 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 Aschines 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 considered the exploits of Alexander to be mira-
culous.

But in succeeding ages* 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 considered important.” For
the mean time (as we have before observed) our only hope
is in the regeneration of the sciences, by regularly 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.

98. 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 establish-
ing 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 gos-
sip of city and street politicians, instead of the letters
and reports of ambassadors and messengers worthy of
credit. Nothing is rightly inquired into, or verified, noted,

* See Livy, lib. x, c. 17, where in a digression on the probable effect of a con-
test between Rome and Alexander the Great he says: ‘‘ Non cum Dario rem
esse dixisset: quem mulierum ac spadonum agmen trahentem inter purpuram
atque aurum, oneratum fortune apparatibus, predam verius quam hostem, nihil
aliud quam ausus vana contemnere, incruentus devicit.”’

x

72 NOVUM ORGANUM.

weighed, or measured, in natural history. Indefinite and
vague observation produces fallacious and uncertain infor-
mation. If this appear strange or our complaint some-
what too unjust (because Aristotle 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 composed
copious histories and notices of plants, metals, and fossils),
it will arise from a want of sufficiently attending to and
comprehending our present observations. For a natural
history compiled on its own account, and one collected for
the mind’s information as a foundation for philosophy, are
two different things. They differ in several respects, but
principally in this ; the former contains only the varieties
of natural species without the experiments of mechanical
arts. For as in ordinary life every person’s disposition,
and the concealed feelings of the mind and passions are
most drawn out when they are disturbed ; so the secrets of
nature betray themselves more readily when tormented by
art, than when left to their own course. 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.

99. 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 any thing
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 received
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 enlight-
ening, to distinguish them from those which are profitable.
They possess 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 deciding the question.

100. 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 experience. For vague and arbitrary experi-
ence is (as we have observed) mere groping in the dark,

NOVUM ORGANUM. 73

and rather astonishes than instructs. But when experience
shall proceed regularly and uninterruptedly by a determined
rule, we may entertain better hopes of the sciences.

101. But after having collected and prepared an abun-
dance and store of natural history, and of the experience
required for the operations of the understanding, or philo-
sophy ; still the understanding 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.

102. 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 movements 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.

103. When we have thus properly and regularly placed
before the eyes a collection of particulars, we must not im-
mediately 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 transferring 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 so-
ciety and mankind, by what we term /iterate experience ;

_ yet comparatively insignificant results are to be expected

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 de-
fining new particulars in their turn. Our road is not along
a plain, but rises and falls, ascending to axioms and des-
cending to effects.

104. Nor can we suffer the understanding to jump and
fly from particulars to remote and most general axioms

74 NOVUM ORGANUM.

(such as are termed the principles of arts and things), and
thus prove and make out their intermediate axioms accord-
ing to the supposed unshaken truth of the former. This,
however, has always been done to the present time from
the natural bent of the understanding, educated too and
accustomed to this very method by the syllogistic mode of
demonstration. But we can 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 interme-
diate (rising one above the other), and lastly to the most
general. For the lowest axioms differ but little from bare
experiment, the highest and most general (as they are
esteemed at present) are 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 intermediate.

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.

105. In forming axioms, we must invent a different form
of induction from that hitherto in 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 induction which proceeds by simple enume-
ration is puerile, leads to uncertain conclusions, and is ex-
posed to danger from one contradictory instance, deciding
generally from too small a number of facts, and those only
the most obvious. But a really useful induction for the
discovery and demonstration of the arts and sciences should
separate nature by proper rejections and exclusions, and
then conclude for the affirmative after collecting a sufli-
cient number of negatives. Now this has not been done, or
even attempted, except perhaps by Plato, who certainly
uses this form of induction in some measure, to sift defini-
tions 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 de-
monstration; 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 induc-
tion as has been described.

ee Pr yrr ere

NOVUM ORGANUM. 73

106. In forming our axioms from induction, we must
examine and try, whether the axiom we derive, be only
fitted and calculated 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 de-
terminate nature; and as soon as we act thus, well autho-
rized hopes may with reason be said to beam upon us.

107. 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 schism or dismembering of the sciences ; without which
we cannot hope to advance. ,

108. 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 opportunity, 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 in-
terrupted. For although it may now and then happen that
one falls by chance upon something that had before escaped
considerable efforts and laborious inquiries, yet undoubt-
edly 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 anima! instinct, and the like, which have
hitherto been the sources of invention.

109. We may also derive some reason for hope from the
circumstance of several actual inventions being of such a
nature, that scarcely any one could have formed a conjec-
ture about them previously to their discovery, but would
rather have ridiculed them as impossible. For men are
wont to guess about new subjects 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 disco-
very of cannon one had described its effects in the follow-
ing manner: “There is a new invention, by which walls

76 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 pro-
jectiles and machines by means of weights and wheels, and
other modes of battering and projecting. But it is impro-
bable 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 silk worm, 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, by 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 any thing being discovered, which not being
a celestial body, but a mere mineral or metallic substance,
should yet in its motion agree with that of such bodies,
would have appeared absolutely incredible. Yet were these
facts, and the like (unknown for so many ages) not disco-
vered at last either by philosophy or reasoning, but by
chance and opportunity; and (as we have observed) they
are of a nature most heterogeneous, and remote from what
was hitherto known, so that no previous knowledge could
lead to them.

We* may, therefore, well hope that many excellent and

* This hope has been abundantly realized in the discovery of gravity and the
decomposition of light, strictly by the inductive method. To a better philosophy
we may also attribute the discovery of electricity, galvanism, and their mutual
connexion with each other, and magnetism, the inventions of the air pump,
steam engine, chronometer, &c.

OL Pate Mn see

NOVUM ORGANUM. 77

useful matters are yet treasured up in the bosom of nature,
bearing no relation or analogy to our actual discoveries, but
out of the common track of our imagination, and still undis-
covered ; and which will doubtless be brought to light in
the course and lapse of years, as the others have been be-
fore them; but in the way we now point out, they may
rapidly and at once be both represented and anticipated.

110. There are moreover some inventions which render
it probable that men may pass and hurry over the most
noble discoveries which lie immediately before them. For
however the discovery of gunpowder, silk, the compass,
sugar, paper, or the like, may appear to depend on peculiar
properties of things and 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 innumer-
able impressions, whilst manuscript only affords one copy ;
and again, from want of observing that ink might be dike
ened 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 investigation of new
modes of operation, but also from transferring, comparing
and applying these already known, by the method of what
we have termed literate experience.

111. 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 importance and value: a small portion of which
applied to sound and solid 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.

78 -NOVUM ORGANUM.

112. In the mean time, 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 com-
pared 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 con-
fusion. 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 imagi-
nation. If we had but any one who could actually answer
our interrogations of nature, the invention of all causes and
sciences would be the labour of but a few years.

113. We think some ground of hope is afforded by ourown
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 contempo-
raries 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 explorer 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 [
now treat of. Then let others consider what may be hoped
from men who enjoy abundant leisure, from united labours,
and the succession of ages, after these suggestions 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
experiments. 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.

114. Lastly, though a much more faint and uncertain
breeze of hope were to spring up from our new continent,
yet we consider 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 neglect-
ing the attempt; the former 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 induce not only
those who are sanguine to make experiment, but even those
who are cautious and sober to give their assent.

115. Such are the grounds for banishing despair, hitherto

NOVUM ORGANUM. 79

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 pre-
vailed: seeing especially that the more refined causes, which
are not open to popular 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 confutation of demonstration. 3. The confutation
of theories, or received systems of philosophy and doctrines,
Our confutation has followed such a course as was open to
it, namely, the exposing of the signs of error, and the pro-
ducing evidence of the causes of it: for we could adopt no
other, differing as we do both in first principles and demon-
strations from others.

It is time for us therefore to come to the art itself, and the
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 understanding, as well as admitting, what follows, we
must now, after having cleansed, polished, and levelled its
surface, place it in a good position, and as it were a bene-
volent aspect towards our propositions; seeing that pre-
Judice in new matters may be produced not only by the
strength of preconceived notions, but also by a false antici-
pation 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 owt at interest, until the matter
itself be well understood.

116, 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,* Patri-
cius,} and Severinus.{ For neither is this our intention,

* Bernardino Telesio, a Neapolitan. He studied at Padua, and published
his ‘‘ De rerum natura juxta propria principia” in 1565, in opposition to Aris-
totle. He applied mathematics to physics, and held some notions similar to those
of Parmenides.

+ Francesco Patrizio, born in Cherso, on the coast of Dalmatia, in 1529. He
studied at Padua, and was afterwards professor of Platonic philosophy at Rome
till his death in 1597. He impugned Aristotle’s philosophy in his Nova de
Universis Philosophia.

¢ Marco Aurelio Severini, a learned physician of Naples, who published an
attack on Aristotle’s Natural History, and several other works. He was born in
1580,

80 NOVUM ORGANUM.

nor do we think 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 te the heavens can be formed,
differing in themselves, and yet sufficiently according with
the phenomena.

We bestow not our labour on such theoretical and, at
the same time, useless topics. On the contrary, our deter-
mination 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 points, we hold (in our own
opinion) more true and certain, and I 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 philo-
sophy discovered by the interpretation of nature), but are
content if we proceed quietly and usefully in our interme-
diate pursuit, scattering, in the mean time, the seeds of
less adulterated truth for posterity, and, at least, commence
the great work.

117. And, as we pretend not to found a sect, so 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 every thing 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 experiments ;
and new effects and experiments from those causes and
axioms.

And although any one of moderate intelligence and abi-
lity will observe the indications and sketches of man
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 na-
tural history, whether compiled from books, or our own

oy eA ee

NOVUM ORGANUM. 8]

inquiries, is not sufficiently copious and well ascertained
to satisfy or even assist a proper interpretation.

If, therefore, there be any one who is more disposed and
prepared 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 our history and tables in his way, and applying
them to effects, receiving them as interest till he can obtain
the principal. For our own part, having a greater object
in view, we condemn all hasty and premature rest in such
pursuits, as we would Atalanta’s apple (to use a common
allusion of ours); for we are not childishly ambitious of
golden fruit, but use all our efforts to make the course of
art outstrip nature, and we hasten not to reap moss or the
green blade, but wait for a ripe harvest.

118. There will be some, without doubt, who, on a pe-
rusal of our history and tables of invention, will meet with
some uncertainty, or perhaps fallacy, in the experiments
themselves, and will thence perhaps imagine that our dis-
coveries are built on false foundations and _ principles.
There is, however, really nothing in this, since it must
needs happen in beginnings. For it is the same as if in
writing or printing one or two 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 disco-
very of causes and axioms. It is, however, true that if
these errors in natural history and experiments become
great, frequent, and continued, they cannot be corrected
and amended by any dexterity of wit or art. If then, even
in our natural history, well examined and compiled with
such diligence, strictness, and (I might say) reverential
scruples, there be now and then something false and erro-
neous in the details, what must we say of the common
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 ?
Let none then be alarmed by such observations.

119. 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 perhaps may divert and alienate the attention of
mankind. With regard to what is common ;. let men reflect,

VOL. XIV. G

82 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 in-
vestigation 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,
softness, rarity, density, liquidity, solidity, animation, in-
animation, 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 any thing
new brought to light, without a previous regular examina-
tion and discovery of the causes of that which is common,
and the causes again of those causes) are necessarily com-
ese to admit the most common objects into our history.

esides, we have observed that nothing has been so inju-
rious to philosophy as this circumstance, namely, that fami-
liar and frequent objects do not arrest and detain men’s con-
templation, but are carelessly admitted, and their causes
never inquired after; so that mformation on unknown
subjects is not more often wanted than attention to those
which are known.

120, With regard to the meanness or even the filthiness
of particulars, for which (as Pliny observes) an apology is
requisite, such 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 deserving of
knowledge, the image of existence. Now the mean and
splendid alike exist. Nay, as the finest odours are some-
times 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 fastidious feelings are childish and effe-
minate.

121. The next point requires a more accurate conside-
ration, namely, that many parts of our history will appear
to the vulgar, or even any mind accustomed to the present

NOVUM ORGANUM. _ 88

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 comprehends 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 substances 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? 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 consequences: in no way resembling
ours, which are at present useless, but in their conse-
quences of infinite benefit. Let men be assured that all
subtile disputes and discursive efforts of the mind are late
and preposterous, when they are introduced subsequently
to the discovery of axioms, and that their true or at 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 op-
portunity 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 sub-
tile and useless in its origin, in the words of a poor woman
to a haughty 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

84 . NOVUM ORGANUM.

nature can neither be obtained nor administered by one who
refuses to pay attention to such matters as being poor and
too minute. :

_ 122. 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 other-
wise than sincerely, it was not difficult to refer our pre-
sent 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 them-
selves 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 1s 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 con-
ducted 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 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 if we
were to assume a power of drawing a more perfect straight
line or circle than any one else by superior steadiness of
hand or acuteness of eye, it would lead to a comparison of
talent ;' but if one merely assert that he can draw a more

* See Plato’s Timeus.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 85

perfect line or circle with a ruler or compasses, than
another can by his unassisted hand or eye, he surely
cannot be said to boast of 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
wits, and leaves but little to their superiority, since it
achieves every thing by the most certain rules and demon-
-strations. Whence (as we 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 our thoughts than on our
acts and deeds.

123. 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,
both 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.

124, Another objection will without doubt be made,
namely, that we have not ourselves*established a correct or
the best goal or aim of the scienees (the very defect we
blame in others). For they will say that the contempla-
tion 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 understand-
ing, such as it is found to be, not such as man’s reason has
distorted. Now this cannot be done without dissecting and
anatomising the world most diligently ; but we declare it
necessary to destroy completely the vain little, and as it
were apish initations of 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

86 NOVUM ORGANUM.

of the divine mind. The former are mere arbitrary ab-
stractions; 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.

125. 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, there-
fore, 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 medi-
tations, 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 troublesome
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 ob-
servations, it will be easy to answer this objection or rather
scruple. For we allow that the ancients had a particular
form of investigation and discovery, and their writings
show it. But it was of such a nature, that they immedi-
ately flew from a few instances and particulars (after add-
ing 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 interme-
diate propositions deduced their inferior conclusions, and
tried them by the test of the immovable and settled truth
of the first, and so constructed 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 distinctions or explanations
of their own rules, or got rid of them clumsily as exceptions,
labouring most pertinaciously in the mean time to accom-
modate the causes of such as were not contradictory to
their own principles. Their natural history and their ex-
perience were both far from being what they ought to have
been, and their flying off to generalities ruined every thing.

126. Another objection will be made against us, that we
prohibit decisions, and the laying down of certain principles,

NOVUM ORGANUM. 87

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 we derogate not from the senses but assist
them, and despise not the understanding but direct it. It
is better to know what is necessary, 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.

127. Again, some may raise this question rather than
objection, whether we talk of perfecting natural philo-
sophy alone according to our method, or the other sciences
also, such as logic, ethics, politics. We certainly intend to
comprehend them all. And as common logic, which regu-
lates matters by syllogisms, is applied not only to natural
but also to every other science, 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 it-
self in every respect correctly to that nature. On that
account we deliver numerous and various precepts in our
doctrine of interpretation, so that they may apply in some
measure to the method of discovering the quality and con-
dition of the subject matter of investigation.

128. 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 en-
couraging discussion, adorning discourses, or being em-
ployed 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 pub-
lished writings (especially our books on the advancement

88 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 the present methods in the theory or contempla-
tion of science, and that they cannot be made to produce
any very abundant effects.

129. 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 Tefrained 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 compare them he will find
the judgment of antiquity to be correct. For the bene-
fits 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 reformation seldom is carried on without violence and
confusion, whilst inventions are a blessing and a benefit
without injuring or afflicting any.

Inventions are also, as it were, new creations and imita-
tions of divine works; as was expressed by the poet :*

‘« Primum frugiferos foetus mortalibus egris

Dididerant quondam prestanti nomine Athenz
Et recreaverunt vitam legesque rogarunt.”

* This is the opening of the sixth book of Lucretius. Bacon probably quoted
from memory ; the lines are,

Prime frugiferos foetus mortalibus egris
Dididerunt quondam preclaro nomine Athene
Et recreaverunt, &c.

The teeming corn, that feeble mortals crave,

First, and long since, renowned Athens gave,

And cheered their life—then taught to frame their laws.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 89

And it is worthy of remark in Solomon, that whilst: he
flourished in the possession of his empire, in wealth, in the
magnificence of 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 declared* “ That it is the glory of God to con-
ceal 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 Eu-
rope, 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 country 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 so be termed) is both more sound
and more noble than the other two. Now the empire of
man over things is founded on the arts and sciences alone,
for nature is only to be commanded by obeying her.

Besides this, if the benefit of any particular invention
has had such an effect 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 every thing else! Yet (to speak
_ the truth) in the same manner as we are very thankful for
light which enables us to enter on our way, to practice arts,

* Prov. c. xxv. Vv. 2.

90 NOUVM ORGANUM.

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 super-
stition or imposture, error or confusion, much more digni-
fied in itself than all the advantage to be derived from dis-
coveries.

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.

130. 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, al-
though 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 them-
selves 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 interpretation
without the aid of any art. For interpretation is the true
and natural act of the mind, when all obstacles are removed :
certainly, however, every thing will be more ready and
better fixed by our precepts.

Yet do we not athirm that no addition can be made to
them; on the contrary, considering the mind in its con-
nexion 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.

END OF THE FIRST BOOK,

NOVUM ORGANUM. 9]

THE SECOND BOOK OF APHORISMS.

On the Interpretation of Nature, or the Reign of Man.

1. To generate and superinduce a new nature or new
natures, upon a given body, is the labour and aim of hu-
man power: whilst to discover the form or true difference
of a given nature, or the nature* to which such nature is
owing, or source from which it emanates (for these terms
approach nearest to an explanation of our meaning), is the
labour and discovery of human knowledge. And subordi-
nate 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 the second,
the discovery, in every species of generation and motion, of
the latent and uninterrupted process from the manifest effi-
cient and manifest subject matter up to the given form:
and a like discovery of the latent conformation of bodies
which are at rest instead of being in motion.

2. The unhappy state of man’s actual knowledge is ma-
nifested 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, the efficient, and end, or final
cause. 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 forth is
considered desperate. As for the efficient cause, and matter
(according to the present system of inquiry and the received
opinions concerning them, by which they are placed remote
from, and without any latent process towards, form), they
are but desultory and superficial, and of scarcely any avail

* TO ri Hy civat, or } ovcia of Aristotle. See lib. 3. Metap.

+ These divisions are from Aristotle’s Metaphysics, where they are termed
1. UAn 7 TO UVTOKEipevoy. 2. rd Tidy eivat. 3. OSE H GOXN THC KivegEwe.
4. 7d od Evikev—Kai rd dyador.

92 NOVUM ORGANUM.

to real and active knowledge. Nor are we unmindful of
our having pointed out and corrected above the error of
the human mind, in assigning the first qualities of essence
to forms.* For although nothing exists in nature except
individual bodies, exhibiting clear individual effects accord-
ing to particular laws:+ yet in each branch of learning,
that very law, its investigation, discovery,and developement,
are the foundation both of theory and practice.{ This law
therefore, and its parallel in each science, is what we under-
stand by the term form, adopting that word because it has
grown into common use, and is of familiar occurrence.

3. He who has learnt the cause of a particular nature,
(such as whiteness-or heat) in particular subjects only, has
acquired but an imperfect knowledge: as he who can in-
duce a certain effect upon particular substances only, among
those which are susceptible of it, has acquired but an im-
perfect power. But he who has only learnt the efficient and
material cause (which causes are variable and mere vehicles
conveying form to particular substances) may perhaps ar-
rive 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.

4, Although there is a most intimate connexion and al-
most 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 foundations which bear a relation to the practi-
cal division, and to let them mark out and limit the theo-
retical, We must consider, therefore, what precepts, or
what direction or guide, a person would most desire, in

* See Aphorism 51 and 2d paragraph of Aphorism 65, in the first book.

+ Plato’s ideas or forms are the abstractions or generalizations of distinct spe-_
cies, which have no real existence, individuals only existing.

¢ Observe throughout, Bacon’s term form means no more than law. See fur-

ther 3d paragraph of Aphorism 17 of this book.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 93

order to generate and superinduce any nature upon a given
body: and this not in abstruse, but in the plainest lan-
puage,

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 vegetable, we must (I say) consider
what species of precept or guide this person would prefer,
And firstly, he will doubtless be anxious to be shown some
method that will neither fail in effect, nor deceive him in
the trial of it. Secondly, he will be anxious that the pre-
- scribed method should not restrict him and tie him down
to peculiar means, and certain particular methods of acting,
For he will, perhaps, be at a loss, and without the power
or opportunity of collecting and procuring such means.
Now if there be 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 deprived of reaping any
advantage from them. Thirdly, he will be anxious to be
shown something not so difficult as the required effect it-
self, 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, ab-
sent whenever that nature is absent, and perpetually testi-
fies 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

* Thus, to adopt Bacon’s own illustration, motion is a property common to
many subjects, from which must be deduced the form of heat, by defining a
particular genus of motion convertible with heat. See the First Vintage in
Aphorism 20 below.

94 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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.

5. 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
_ the following circumstances; it is yellow, heavy, of a cer-

tain weight, malleable and ductile to a certain extent; it
is not volatile, loses part of its substance by fire, melts in
a peculiar 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, and the like,
and their degrees and modes, will consider and contrive
how to unite them in any body, so as to* transform 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 compre-
hend 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 what 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

* By the recent discoveries in electric magnetism copper wires, or, indeed,
wires of any metal may be transformed into magnets ; the magnetic law or form
having been to that extent discovered.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 95

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 gene-
ration of bodies, but it is applicable to other changes and
labours of nature. For instance; where an inquiry is made
into the whole series and continued operation of the nutri-
tive process, from the first reception of the food to its com-
plete assimilation to the recipient: or into the voluntary
motion of animals, from the first impression of the imagi-
nation, 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 give
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 laws which constitute forms. It must, however, be
plainly 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 contemplative branch, extends and advances its opera-
tion 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 ra-
dical operations upon nature depend entirely on the primary
axioms. Besides, even where man has not the means of
acting, but only of acquiring knowledge, as in astronom
(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 coincidences, must be referred to
those primary and universal axioms that regard simple
natures; such as the nature of spontaneous rotation, at-
traction, or the magnetic force, and many others which
are more common than the heavenly bodies themselves.
For let no one hope to determine the question whether
the earth or heaven revolve in the diurnal motion, unless
he have first comprehended the nature of spontaneous
rotation.

6. But the latent process, of which we speak, is far from
being obvious to men’s minds, beset as they now are. For
we mean not the measures, symptoms, or degrees of any
process which can be exhibited in the bodies themseives,

96 NOVUM ORGANUM.

but simply a continued process, which for the most part
escapes the observation of the senses.

For instance ; in all generations and transformations of
bodies we must inquire, what is in the act of being lost
and escaping, what remains, what is being added, what is
being diluted, what is being contracted, what is being
united, what is pong separated, what is continuous, what
is broken off, what is urging forward, what impedes, what
predominates, whats subservient, and many other circum-
stances.

Nor are these inquiries again to be made in the mere
generation and transformation of bodies only, but in all
other alterations and fluctuations we must in like manner
inquire; what precedes, 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, 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.

7. In like manner the investigation and discovery of the
latent confirmation in bodies is no less new, than the dis-
covery of the latent process and form. For we as yet are
doubtless only admitted to the antechamber of nature, and
do not prepare an entrance into her presence-room. But
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 organised bodies, such as those of men and animals,
which appears to be a subtile matter, and an useful exami-
nation of nature. This species of anatomy, however, is that
of first sight, open to the senses, and takes place only in
organised 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 specitic
objects and their parts: as those of iron, stone, and the

NOVUM ORGANUM. 97

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 ana-
tomy: 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 homogeneous 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 confused 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 com-
bined 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 property and virtue
of things depends, and whence also every rule of powerful
change and transformation is deduced.

For instance, we must examine what spirit is in every
body, what tangible essence ; whether that spirit is copious
and exuberant, or meagre and scarce, fine or coarse, aeriform
or igniform, 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 distinctions as the spirit), and its hairs, fibres,
and varied texture. 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 sub-
ject 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 difficul- _
ties, is admitted by means of the primary axioms.

VOL, XIV. iy

98 NOVUM ORGANUM.

8. This method will not bring us to atoms,* which takes
for granted the vacuum, and the 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 inexpli-
cable, 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 incommen-
surable to the commensurable, from surds to rational quan-
tities, 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.

9. From + the two kinds of axioms above specified arise
the two divisions of philosophy and the sciences, and we
will use the commonly adopted terms, which approach the
nearest to our meaning, in our own sense. Let the investi-
gation of forms, which (in reasoning at least, and after their
own laws) are eternal and immutable, constitute metaphysics,
and let the investigation 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 fun-
damental 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. |

10. 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 experiment, the second the deducing or de-
riving of new experiments from axioms. The first admits

* The theory of the Epicureans and others, The atoms are supposed to be
indivisible, inalterable particles, endued with all the properties of the given body,
_and forming that body by their union. ‘They must be separated of course,
which either takes a vacuum for granted, or introduces a tertium quid into the
composition of the body.

+ Compare the three following aphorisms with the three last chapters of the
third book of the De Augmentis Scientiarum.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 99

of three subdivisions into ministrations. 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. We must
not imagine or invent, but discover the acts and properties
of nature.

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 coordinations 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 unfit to construct
its axioms without direction and support. Our third minis-
tration, 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.

11. 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, al-
though thesubject 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 investigation of the form of heat.

Instances agreeing in the form of heat.

1. The rays of the sun, particularly in summer, and at
noon.

2. The same reflected and condensed, as between moun-
tains, or along walls, and particularly in burning mirrors.

3. Ignited meteors.

4. Burning lightning.

5. Eruptions of flames from the cavities of mountains,

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
reverberating 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,
particularly in winter.

100 NOVUM ORGANUM.

13. All shaggy substances, as wool, the skins of animals,
and the 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.

16. All bodies rubbed violently, as stone, wood, cloth,
&c. so that rudders, and axles of wheels, sometimes catch
fire, and the West Indians obtain fire by. attrition.

17.. Green and moist vegetable matter confined and rub-
bed together; as roses, peas in baskets; so hay if it be
damp when stacked often catches fire.

18. Quick lime sprinkled with water.

19. Iron, when first dissolved by acids in a glass, and
without any application to fire; the same of tin, but not so
intensely.

20. Animals, particularly internally ; although the heat
is not perceivable by the touch in insects, on account of
their small size.

21. Horse dung, and the like excrement iow other
animals, when fresh.

22. Strong oil of sulphur and of vitriol exhibit the ope-
ration of heat in burning linen.

23. As does the oil of marjoram, and like substances, in
burning the bony substance of the teeth.

24. Strong and well rectified spirits of wine exhibit the
same effects; so that white of eggs when thrown into it
erows hard 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 dra-
cunculus [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 slightly masticated.

26. 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.*

“‘ Nam Boree penetrabile frigus adurit.”

* << Ne tenues pluvie, rapidive potentia solis
Acrior, aut Boree penetrabile frigus adurat.”
Virg. Georg. I. vy. 92, 93.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 10]

28. Other instances.

We are wont to call this a table of existence and pre-
sence.

12. 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 affirma-
tives, and the want of the given nature must be inquired
into more particularly in objects which have a very close
connexion with those others in which it is present and
manifest. And this we are wont to term a table of devia-
tion or of absence in proximity.

Proximate Instances wanting the nature of Heat.
First negative subjunctive instance to the first affirmative instance.
The rays of the moon, stars, and comets, are not found to
be warm to the touch, nay, the severest cold has been ob-
served 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 stance, and in the dog-days.
Second negative to the second affirmative. j
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 sufficiently 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 of Peru, the tops
of the mountains are free from snow, which only lies in the

lower part, as you ascend. Besides, the air on the sum-

mit 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 vomit-
ing. The ancients also observed, that the rarity of the air
on the summit of Olympus was such, that those who as-
cended it were obliged to carry spunges moistened with
vinegar and water, and to apply them now and then to their
nostrils, as the air was not dense enough for their respira-

102 NOVUM ORGANUM.

tion ; 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 Teneriffe, walk by night and not in the day-
time, and are advised and pressed by their guides, as soon
as the sun rises, to make haste in their descent, on account
of the danger (apparently arising from the rarity of the at-
mosphere) lest their breathing should be relaxed and suffo-

cated.
Third negative to the second affirmative.

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 of 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 re-
flected 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. Inthe mean time it must be observed, that there
may be many operations of the solar rays, relating too to
the nature of heat, which are not proportioned to our touch,
so that, with regard to us, they do not tend to produce
warmth, but, with regard to some other bodies, have their
due effect in producing it.

Fourth negative to the second affirmative.

Let the following experiment be made. Take a lens the
reverse of a burning glass, and place it between the hand
and the 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, im proportion as
the lens is made of unequal thickness in the middle and at
its sides, the images appear either more diffused or con-
tracted. It should be seen, therefore, if the same be true
with regard to heat.

Fifth negative to the second affirmative.
Let the experiment be well tried, whether the lunar rays

NOVUM ORGANUM. 103

can be received and collected by the strongest and best
burning glasses, so as to produce even the least degree of
heat. But if that degree be, perhaps, so subtile and weak,
as not to be perceived or ascertained by the touch, we must
have recourse to those glasses which indicate the warm or
cold state of the atmosphere, and let the lunar rays fall
through the burning glass on the top of this thermometer,
and then notice if the water be depressed by the heat.*
Sixth negative to the second affirmative.

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 increased and condensed, as happens with the
solar rays.

Seventh negative to the second affirmative.

Let it be tried on common flame.

Eighth negative to the third affirmative.

The effect of 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 happen in winter,
and generally at the time of the greatest heats. The ap-
pearances we term falling stars are generally supposed to
consist of some shining and enflamed viscous substance,
rather than of violently hot matter. But let this be further

investigated.
Ninth negative to the fourth affirmative.

Some coruscations emit light without burning; but are
never accompanied by thunder.

Tenth negative to the fifth affirmative.

Eructations and eruptions of flame 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 inflam-
mable and more pitchy and resinous, than in warm; as
the fir, pine, and the like. But the position and nature of
the soil, where such eruptions are wont to happen, is not

* For the construction of Bacon’s thermometer see No. 38 in the table of
the degrees of heat, It serves also as a barometer, but is inaccurate in both
capacities.

104 NOVUM ORGANUM.

yet sufficiently investigated to enable us to subjoin a ne-
gative instance to the affirmative.
Eleventh negative to the sixth affirmative.

All flame is constantly more or less warm, and this in-
stance 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 authenti-
cated and serious histories, is said to have appeared round
the head and hair of boys and virgins, and instead of burn-
ing 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, orin 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
which the apron was imbued, and which after having been
stuck together and incrusted rather strongly were broken
by the friction. It is well known that all sugar, whether
candied or plain, if it be hard, will sparkle when broken or
scraped in the dark. In like manner sea and salt water is
sometimes found to shine at night when struck violently
by the oar. The foam of the sea when agitated by tem-
pests also sparkles at night, and the Spaniards call this
appearance the sea’s lungs. It has not been sufficiently
ascertained what degree of heat attends the flame which
the ancient sailors called Castor and Pollux, and the mo-
derns call St. Ermus’ fire.

Twelfth negative to the seventh affirmative.

Every ignited body that is red-hot is always warm, al-
though without flame, nor is any negative instance subjoined
to this affirmative. Rotten 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 fly called lucciola.+

Thirteenth negative to the eighth affirmative,

The situation and nature of the soil of natural warm baths
has not been sufficiently investigated, and therefore a ne-
gative instance is not subjoined.

* Was it a silk apron, which will exhibit electric sparks? but silk was then
scarce.

+ The Italian fire-fly.

&

NOVUM ORGANUM. 105

Fourteenth negative to the ninth affirmative.

To the instances of warm liquids we may subjoin the
negative one of the peculiar nature of liquids im 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, chymical aromatic oils,
the oils of vitriol and sulphur, and the like, and which
speedily burn, are yet cold at first to the touch, 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 are rather less
cold to the touch than those that are aqueous, oil for in-
stance than water, silk than linen; but this belongs to the
table of degrees of cold.

Fifteenth negative to the tenth affirmative.

In like manner we may subjoin a negative instance to
that of warm vapour, derived from the nature of vapour it-
self; 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 sub-
stance.

Sixteenth negative to the tenth affirmative. _

The same may be said of the instance of air. For we
never perceive that air is warm unless confined or pressed,
or manifestly heated by the sun, by fire, or some other
warm body. .

Seventeenth negative to the eleventh affirmative.

A negative instance is exhibited in weather by its cold-
ness with an east 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 (espe-
cially in winter) attends warm weather, and to frost cold
weather.

Eighteenth negative to the twelfth affirmative.

A negative instance as to air confined in caverns may be
observed in summer. Indeed we should make a more dili-
gent ey 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, may 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 judgment can be formed
of the nature of air by that which is out of doors and ex-

106 NOVUM ORGANUM.

posed, but a more correct one might be derived from con-
fined 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 admit the in-
fluence 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
either by the hand or a graduated glass tube.

Nineteenth negative to the thirteenth affirmative.

There is a similar doubt as to whether the warmth of
wool, skins, 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 spoke of in the preceding paragraph.* For all
air appears to possess a certain degree of warmth when
separated from the external atmosphere. Let an experi-
ment be made therefore with fibrous substances of linen,
and not of wool, feathers, or silk, which are animal excre-
tions. For it is to be observed that all powders (where air
is manifestly enclosed) are less cold than the substances
when whole, just as we imagine froth (which contains air)
to be less cold than the liquid itself.

Twentieth negative to the fourteenth affirmative.

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.+
This, however, belongs to the table of degrees.

Twenty-first negative to the fifteenth affirmative.

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 off, and that the air never forms them by friction
as is commonly supposed ; besides, the sparks from the
weight of the ignited substance, have a tendency to descend
rather than to rise, and when extinguished become a sort

of dark ash.

* This lastis found to be the real reason air not being a good conductor, and
therefore not allowing the escape of heat. The confined air is disengaged when
these substances are placed under an exhausted receiver.

+ This is erroneous. Air in fact is one of the worst, and metals are the best
conductors of heat.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 107

Twenty-second negative to the sixteenth affirmative.

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 this point, however, further inquiry must be
made, whether bodies projected by machines (as balls from
cannon) do not derive some degree of heat from meeting the
air, which renders them somewhat warm when they fall.
The air in motion rather cools than heats, as in the winds,
the bellows, or breath when the mouth is contracted. The
motion, however, in such instances is not sufficiently rapid
to excite heat, and is applied to a body of air and not to its
component parts, so that it is not surprising that heat should
not be generated.

Twenty-third negative to the seventeenth affirmative.

We must make a more diligent inquiry into this instance.
For herbs, and green and moist vegetables appear to possess
a latent heat, so small however as not to be perceived by
the touch in 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 ma-
nifested, and even flame occasionally in suitable substances.

Twenty-fourth negative to the eighteenth affirmative.

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.

Twenty-fifth negative to the nineteenth affirmative.

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 dissolving, 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

108 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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.

Twenty-sixth negative to the twentieth affirmative.

There is no negative instance with regard to the heat of
animals, 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 sen-
sible degree of heat. But in animals there is a great dif-
ference in the degree, both in particular parts (for the heat
varies near the heart, the brain, and the extremities) and
in the circumstances in which they are placed, such as
violent exercise and fevers.

Twenty-seventh negative to twenty-first affirmative.

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.

Twenty-eighth negative to the twenty-second and twenty-third affirmative.

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 first warm to the touch. But they act ac-
cording to their aflinity and the pores of the substances to
which they are applied. For aqua regia 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. .
Twenty-ninth negative to twenty-fourth affirmative.

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 24th instance shows that they possess properties re-
sembling those of heat 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 covering it up in order that they
may the better retain their heat, then observe whether their
heat make the water descend.

Thirtieth negative to twenty-fifth affirmative.

Spices and acrid herbs are sensibly warm to the palate,

and still more so when taken internally. One should see,

* See No. 38 in the table of the degrees of heat. .

NOVUM ORGANUM. _ 109

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 some danger of fever and inflammation
to those who stir them or take them out. An experiment
might therefore be made whether such spices and herbs
when produced will, like smoke, dry fish and meat hung
up over them.
Thirty-first negative to twenty-sixth affirmative.

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, an equal effect in causing animated substances
to smart, and separating and consuming inanimate parts.
There is not any negative instance as to this, nor does there
— any animal pain unaccompanied by the sensation of

eat.
Thirty-second negative to twenty-seventh affirmative.

There are many effects common to cold and heat, how-
ever, 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.

13. In the third place we must exhibit to the understand-
ing the instances in which that nature, which is the object
of 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 con-
sidered 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 de-
gree of heat sensible to the touch, but appear rather to
possess a potential heat, or disposition and preparation for
it. We will then go 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

110 : NOVUM ORGANUM.

its 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 disso-
lution of iron and tin. The degree of heat therefore in in-
animate 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 required heat, as horse-
dung from the animal, or lime, and perhaps ashes and soot
from fire, retain some latent portion of it. Hence distil-
lations and separations of substances are effected by burying
them in horse-dung, and heat is excited in lime by sprink-
ling 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’stouch. Yet(as we have before observed) green weeds
grow warm when confined, and some vegetables are warm
and others cold to our internal touch, 1. 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, un-
less 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 cemeteries 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 wrapt gently up in it by its own warmth.

6. Manures, such as every kind of dung, chalk, sea-sand,
salt, 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 substances, which by putrefaction are converted
into animalcule, as flesh and cheese, nor rotten wood which

NOVUM ORGANUM. lil

shines in the dark, are warm to the touch. The heat, how-
ever, of putrid substances displays itself occasionally ina
disgusting and strong scent.

8. The first degree of heat therefore in substances which
are warm to the human touch, appears to be that of ani-
mals, and this admits of a great variety of degrees, for the
lowest (as in insects) is scarcely perceptible, the highest
scarcely equals that of the 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 Constantius, 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,
wine and feasting, venery, burning fevers, and grief. |

10. In the paroxysm of intermittent fevers the patients
are at first seized with cold and shivering, but soon after-
wards 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 of different animals, as fishes, quadrupeds, serpents,
birds: and also of the different species, as the lion, the kite,
orman. For according 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 in different parts and limbs of the same animal. For
milk, blood, seed, and eggs, are moderately warm, and less
hot than the outward flesh of the animal when in motion
or agitated. The degree of heat of the brain, stomach,
Pe and the rest, has not yet been equally well investi-

ated.
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 dryest wood or straw, or even tinder without
the aid of burning glasses. It can, however, raise vapour
from moist substances.

15. Astronomers tell us that some stars are hotter than
others. 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.

112 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 beneath 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 perpen-
dicular 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 different countries. ©

18. The sun* and other planets are 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 Virginis, Sirius, and the lesser
dog-star, than when he is in Cancer, where, however, he ap-
proaches nearer to the perpendicular. It is probable also
that the quarters of the heavens produce a greater heat
(though not perceptibly), in proportion as they are adorned
with a greater number of stars, particularly those of the
first magnitude.

19. On the whole the heat of the heavenly bodies is
augmented in three ways; 1. The approach to the perpen-
dicular; 2. Proximity or their perigee; 3. The conjunction
or union of stars.

20. There is a very considerable difference between the
degree of heat in animals, and even in the rays of the
heavenly bodies (as they reach us), and the heat of the most
gentle flame, and even of all ignited substances, nay liquids,
or the air itself when unusually heated by fire. 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
weakness in flame and ignited bodies: but no diligent in-
quiry has been made in this respect, and we must, there-

* This notion is erroneous, but the sun is in Leo about August, when the
earth has become heated by the accumulation of heat after the solstice. The
maximum of heat in the day is not at noon but about two o’clock, for the same
reason,

NOVUM ORGANUM. 113

fore, pass it hastily over. Of all flames that of spirits of
wine appears to be the most gentle, except, perhaps, the
ignis fatuus, or the flashes from the perspiration of ani-
mals. After this we should be inclined to-place the flame
of light and porous vegetables, such as straw, reeds, and
dried leaves ; from which the flame of hair or feathers dif-
fers but little. Then, perhaps, comes the flame of wood,
particularly that which contains but little rosin or pitch,
that of small wood, however (such as is usually tied up in
faggots), is milder than that of the trunks or roots of trees.
This can be easily tried in iron furnaces, where a fire of
faggots or branches of trees is of little service. Next fol-
lows the flame of oil, tallow, wax, and the like oily and fat
substances, which are not very violent. * But a most power-
ful 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 com-
pounds; 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
imperfect 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
the 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,
concerning which also a diligent inquiry has not been
made. We consider the faintest heat to be that of tinder,
touchwood, and dry rope match, such as is used for dis-
charging cannon. Next follows that of ignited charcoal,
or cinders, and even bricks, and the like; but the most vio-
lent 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
than some flames ; for instance, red hot iron is much warmer
and 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, as is shown in the bellows and
the blow-pipe, for the harder metals are not dissolved or
melted by steady quiet fire, without the aid of the blow-
EPS,

28. Let an experiment be made with burning glasses ;

VOL. XIV. I

114 NOVUM ORGANUM.

in which respect I have observed, that if a glass be placed
at the distance of ten inches, for instance, from the combus-
tible object, it does not kindle or burn it so readily, as if
the glass be placed at the distance of five inches (for in-
stance), and be then gradually and 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, because 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 com-
pression 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 repeated 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
proportion 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* union of different heats increases heat, unless
the substances be mixed. Fora 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 in-
creases heat. For the heat, which perpetually passes and
emanates from it, being mixed with that which preceded it,
multiplies the 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 any spot gives no more light by remaining there,
than it did at first.

* The fires supply fresh heat, the water has only a certain quantity of heat,
which being diffused over a fresh supply of cooler water must be on the whole
lowered.

NOVUM ORGANUM. FiS

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 further back. Let an accurate ex-
periment, 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.*

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 suscep-
tible 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. So 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 lean-
ing 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 additional 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 propor-
tionate extent. A long narrow slip of paper should be at-
tached to the tube, divided into as many degrees as you

* If condensation were the cause of the greater heat, Bacon concludes 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 rapidly
into the heated room and towards the chimney.

116 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 ex-
hibited by the rising of the water 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 sun-
shine, 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 possesses a much more delicate sus-
ceptibility of heat and cold, only that it is impeded and
blunted by the grossness of their bodies.

o9. After air we consider those bodies to be most sensible
of heat, which have been recently changed dnd 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 tempe-
rature fora 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 Jukewarm water appears hot if
the hand be cold, and cold if the hand be hot.

Aph. 14.

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 au-

* Bacon appears to have confounded combustibility and fusibility with sus-
ceptibility 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 acquire and transmit the same degree of heat than any
of the above substances. The rapid transmission renders them generally cold to
the touch. The convenience of fixing wooden handles to vessels containing hot
water illustrates these observations.

+ Another singular error, the truth being that solid bodies are the best con-
ductors ; but of course where heat is diffused over a large mass, it is less in each
part, than if that part also alone received the whole quantum of heat.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 117

thentic instances (always, however, adding some note if
their credit or authority be doubtful), we are often forced
to subjoin “Let the experiment be tried.”—“ Let further
inquiry be made.”

15. We are wont to term the office and use of these three
tables the presenting a review of instances to the under-
standing; 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 com-
mon limit of the nature. Ifthe mind attempt this affirma-
tively from the first (which it always wil] when left to itself),
there will spring up phantoms, 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 per-
haps for angels and intelligences, at once to recognise forms
affirmatively at the first glance of contemplation: man at
least is unable todo so, and is only allowed to proceed first
by negatives, and then to conclude with affirmatives, after
every species of exclusion.

16. We must therefore effect a complete solution and
separation of nature; not by fire, but by the mind, that di-
vine fire. The first work of legitimate induction, in the dis-
covery 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 re-
verse. After an exclusion correctly effected, an affirmative
form will remain as the residuum, solid, true, and well de-
fined, whilst all volatile opinions go off in smoke. This is
readily said, but we must arrive at it by a circuitous route.
We shall perhaps, however, omit nothing that can facilitate
our progress.

17. The first and almost perpetual precaution and warn-
ing which we 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 hitherto been accustomed to. In the first place
we do not at present mean the concrete forms, which (as we
have observed) are in the common course of things com-
pounded of simple natures, as those of a lion, an eagle, a
rose, gold, or the like. The moment for discussing these

118 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 susceptible 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, reject rarity, or rarity
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,” or the
hee hae “ Man can abstract or ward off heat from a rare
body.”

But if our forms appear to any one to be somewhat ab-
stracted, from their mingling and uniting heterogeneous
objects (the heat for instance of the heavenly bodies appears
to be very different from that of fire; the fixed red of the
rose and the like, from that which is apparent in the rain-
bow, or the radiation of opal or the diamond ;* 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 appear-
ances and hypotheses. For it 1s most certain that, however
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.

18. We must now offer an example of the exclusion or

* This general law or form has been well illustrated by Newton’s discovery
of the decomposition of colours.

t i. e. the common link or form which connects the various kinds of natures,
such as the different hot or red natures enumerated above. See Aphorism 3,
Part 2.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 119

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 singleinstance contained in them. For it isclear from
what has been said that every contradictory instance des-
troys 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 cs the exclusive Table or of the Rejection of
atures from the Form of Heat.

1. On account of the sun’s rays reject elementary (or
terrestrial) nature.

2. On account of common fire, and particularly subter-
ranean 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, water, oil, air, &c.) by mere approximation to the
fire or any warm body, reject all variety and delicate tex-
ture of bodies. 7

4, On account of iron and ignited metals, which warm
other bodies, and yet neither lose their weight nor sub-
stance, 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 hea-
venly bodies (except the sun), again reject flame or light.

7. On account of the comparison between red-hot iron
and the 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 flame 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,* which does not swell in
bulk, but retains the same apparent dimension, reject the
absolute expansive motion of the whole.

11. On account of the expansion of the air in thermo-
meters, and the like, which is absolutely moved and ex~-
panded to the eye, and yet acquires no manifest increase

* This is erroneous: all metals expand considerably when heated.

120 NOVUM ORGANUM.

of heat, again reject absolute or expansive motion of the
whole,

12. On account of the ready application of heat to all
substances without any destruction or remarkable altera-
tion of them, reject destructive nature or the violent com~
munication 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 posi-
tively, 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.

Aph. 19.

In the exclusive table are laid the foundations of true
induction, which is not however completed until the affir-
mative be attained. Nor is the exclusive table perfect, nor
can it be so at first. For it is clearly a rejection of simple
natures ; but if we have not as yet good and just notions
of simple natures, how can the exclusive table be made cor-
rect ? Some of the above, as the 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 under-
standing 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
subjom. And, indeed, in the interpretation of nature the
mind is to be so prepared and formed, as to rest itself on
proper degrees of certainty, and yet to remember (especially
at first) that what is present depends much upon what re-
mains behind.

20. Since, however, truth emerges more readily from
error than confusion, we consider it useful to leave the un-
derstanding at liberty to exert itself and attempt the inter-
pretation of nature in the affirmative, after having con-
structed 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.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 121

The first Vintage of the form of Heat.

It must be observed that the form of any thing is inhe-
rent (as appears clearly from our premises) in each indivi- |
dual instance in which the thing itself is mherent, 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 res-~
trained 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 con-
stant motion. It is alsoshown 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 pressure, 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 their dissolution.

What we have said with regard to motion must be thus
understood, 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 self * 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 the uni-
verse; and is rightly held to be merely the effect of heat
onanimal spirit. It1is 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.

Nor should we confound the communication of heat or

* « Quid ipsum,’’ the rd re Hy elvar of Aristotle.

122 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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, there-
fore, heating is excluded from the form of heat. Even when
heat is excited by the approach 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 multipli-
cation, 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 mo-
tion, 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 forward 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 exuda-
tion 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 dissolved, are however softened. The same cir-
cumstance 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
manifestly expands with a small degree of heat, as in Inst.
38, Tab. 3.

It is also shown in the contrary nature of cold. For cold
contracts and narrows every substance; 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 degree of cold contracts itself, as in

NOVUM ORGANUM. 123

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
common 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 and dilating motion, but cold a contracting
and condensing motion.

II. The second difference is a modification of the pre-
ceding, 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 com-
pound 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 descensum,
which men are wont to employ with delicate flowers, whose
scent easily evaporates. Their industry has devised placing
the fire above instead of below, that it may scorch less.
For not only flame 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 expan-
sion 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, dipt 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 ? placed beneath ; as the contrary takes place with regard
to heat.

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, repulsed, 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

124 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 im-
pediment or repulsion, the heat is not perceptible. In con-
fined 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 (Gf adapted to the body on
which they act) exhibit the effects of fire from their cor-
roding 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 con-
traction.

Whether, therefore, the particles of matter penetrate in-
wards or outwards the reasoning is the same, though the
power be very different, because we have nothing on earth
which is intensely cold.

IV. The fourth difference is a modification of the pre-
ceding ; 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 dimensions. ;

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 is very slow, and attacks very minute par-
ticles, no heat is perceived.

It is also shown in a comparison of the dissolution of
iron and gold. For gold is dissolved without the excite-
ment of any heat, but iron with a vehement excitement of
it, although almost in the same time: because, in the former,
the penetration of the separating acid is mild, 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 obstinate.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 125

It is partially shown also in some gangrenes and mortifi-
cations 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 understanding.

From this 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 res-
trained, 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 as not to allow the expansion to pro-
ceed equally, but only to be partially exerted, and partially
repressed, you will, beyond all doubt, produce heat ;” with-
out 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 ex-
panded or contained within the bounds of its first dimen-
sions, verging to dissolution or remaining fixed, animal,
vegetable, or mineral, water, or oil, or air, or any other
substance whatever susceptible of such motion. Sensible
heat is the same, but considered relatively to the senses.
Let us now proceed to further helps.

21. After our tables of first review, our rejection or ex-
clusive 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 induction ; in offering which we will take the ex-
amples of cold and heat where tables are necessary, but
where fewer instances are required we will go through 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
instances ; 2. Of the supports of induction; 3, Of the cor-
rection of induction; 4, Of varying the investigation ac-
cording to the 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

126 NOVUM ORGANUM.

of what relates to man; 8. Of the preparations for inves-
tigation; 9. And, lastly, of the ascending and descending
scale of axioms. . :

22. 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 ques-
tion; or which do not exhibit the required nature in sub-
jects 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, chrystalline 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.* These are solitary instances
as regards szmelitude.

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 intrinsic natures of any body, but depends
only on the coarser and as it were mechanical arrange-
ment of the parts. These are solitary instances as regards
difference. We call them both solitary or wild, to borrow a
word from the astronomers.

23. In the second rank of prerogative instances we will
consider Migrating instances. In these the required nature
passes towards generation, having no previous existence, or
towards corruption, having first existed. In each of these
divisions, therefore, the instances are always twofold, or
rather it is one instance, first in motion or on its passage,
and then brought to the opposite conclusion. These in-
stances not only hasten and confirm exclusion but also

* This very nearly approaches to Sir I. Newton’s discovery of the decomposi-
tion of light by the prism.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 127

reduce affirmation, or the form itself to a narrow compass.
For the form must be something conferred by this migra-
tion, or on the contrary removed and destroyed by it. And
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 migrating instances are, moreover, very
useful in practice, for since they manifest the form, coupled
with that which causes or destroys it, they point out the
right practice in some subjects, and thence there is an easy
transition to those with which they are 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 under-
standing with a false notion of the form from the appear-
ance of such cause; which is never more than a vehicle or
conveyance of the form. This may easily be remedied by
a proper application 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, are transparent 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 conveyed and introduced by
the bruising of the glass, and the agitation of the water.
But nothing is found to have been introduced but a dimi-
pening of the parts of the glass and water, and the inser-
tion of air. Yet this is no slight progress towards disco-
vering 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
we sek 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 whiteness is only generated by transpa-
rent bodies, which suppositions are both false, and proved

128 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 as affect the
sight exhibit transparency, those which are uneven and of
simple texture whiteness, those which are uneven and of
compound but regular texture all the other colours except
black, but those which are uneven and of a compound irre-
gular 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
migrating 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 discovery of 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 admission of water), and
tends more to transparency. The reason is the same as in
the above instances,

24. In the third rank of prerogative instances we will
class Conspicuous instances, of which we spoke in our first
vintage of the form of heat, and which we are also wont to
call coruscations, 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 over-
coming, suppressing, and restraining them by the strength
of its qualities. For since every body is susceptible of
many united forms of natures in the concrete, the conse-
quence is that they mutually deaden, depress, break, and
confine each other, and the individual forms are obscured.
But there are some subjects in which the required nature
exists in its full vigor rather than in others, either from the
absence. of any impediment or the predominance of its qa
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

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NOVUM ORGANUM. 129

thermometer 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 ex-
hibit expansion, yet, from its being extinguished every mo-
ment, it does not exhibit the progress of expansion. Boiling
water again, from its rapid conversion into vapour, does 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 strik-
ingly exhibits the expansion of the air as being evident and
progressive, durable and not transitory.

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 re-
ferred to density, but quicksilver is liquid, and teeming
with spirit, yet much heavier than the diamond and other
substances considered to be most solid. Whence itis shown
that the form of gravity or weight predominates only in the
quantity of matter, and not in the close fitting of it.

25. In the fourth rank of prerogative instances we will
class Clandestine instances ; which we are also wont to call
twilight 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 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
VOL. XIV. K

130 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 something similar in the instance of
the child’s looking-glass, which little boys will sometimes
form of spittle between rushes, and where the same pellicle»
of water is observable: and still more in that other amuse-
ment 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 burst-
ing. 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 reality 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 remark-
able conspicuous instance with regard to its form is the
magnet. The contrary nature to attraction is non-attrac-
tion, 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 so armed. For
its nature is such that the magnet when armed does 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 in the iron, until the magnet was
introduced. It is manifest, therefore, that the form of co-
hesion is something which is vivid and robust in the magnet,

NOVUM ORGANUM. | 131

and hidden and weak in theiron. It is to be observed also
that small wooden arrows without an iron point, when dis-
charged from large mortars, penetrate further into wooden
substances (such as the ribs of ships or the like), 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 will be mentioned in its proper place.

26. 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 always convertible with the given nature)
lie at some depth, and are not easily discovered, the neces-
sity of the case and the infirmity of the human understand-
ing 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 ob-
served. For whateyer unites nature, even imperfectly, opens
the way to the discovery of the form. The instances, there-
fore, 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
establishing 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 investiga-
tion of the great or leading form, and, taking it for ganted
that nature is compound and divided from its very root,

* Query ?

+ The real cause of this phenomenon is the attraction of the surface water in
the vessel by the sides of the bubbles. When the bubbles approach, the sides
nearest each other both tend to raise the small space of water between them, and
consequently less water is raised by each of these nearer sides, than by the ex-
terior 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 both drawing the water

that is between them. The latter phenomenon cannot be explained on Bacon’s
hypothesis.

132 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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. Theconstitutiveinstances
are oxder or distribution, which manifestly assists memory ;
topics or commonplaces 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 any
thing 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 ma-
terially 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, which may be well
termed a separation from infinity. For when a man strives
to recollect or recall any thing to memory, without a pre-
conceived 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 pre-
conceived notion, this infinity is separated off, and the range
of his memory is brought within closer limits. In the three
instances given above, the preconceived notion is clear and
determined. In the first it must be something that agrees
with order; in the second an image which 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 some-
thing 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 from the mind when clear and least oc-
cupied by preceding or succeeding notions, such as the
things we learn in childhood, or imagine before sleep, and
the first time of any circumstancé happening. Other in-
stances afford the following species : namely, that a multi-
tude of circumstances or handles, assist the memory, such
as writing in paragraphs, reading aloud orrecitation. Lastly,
other instances afford still another species: thus the things

NOVUM ORGANUM. 133

we anticipate, and which rouse our attention, are more
easily remembered than transient events ; as if you read
any work Bie 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 = 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 connexion
of the mind with the senses. 3. The impression in strong
passion. 4. The impression on the mind when pure. — 4.
The multitude of handles. 6. Anticipation.

Again, for example’s sake, let the required nature be
taste or the power of tasting. The following instances are
constitutive: 1. 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 any thing sprinkled with rose water.
3. If those who suffer from a cold blow their noses violently
at the very moment in which they have any thing fcetid or
perfumed in their mouth, or on their palate, they instantly
have a clear perception of the foetor or perfume. These in-
stances afford and constitute this species or division of
taste: namely, that it is in-part nothing else than an in-
ternal 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 in-
ternal smelling, and an exquisite species of touch which we
will not here discuss. :

' Again, as another example, let the required nature be the
communication of quality, without intermixture of sub-
stance. The instance of light will afford or constitute one
species of communication, heat and the magnet another.
For the communication of light is momentary and imme-
diately 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 fine the prerogative of constitutive instances is consi-
derable, for they materially assist the definitions (especially
in detail) and the divisions or partitions of natures, con-

134 NOVUM ORGANUM.

cerning which Plato has well said, “ He who can properly
define and divide is to be considered a God.”

27. 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 connexion 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 im-
mediately establish any axiom, but merely indicate and ob-
serve a certain relation of bodies to each other. But
although they be not of much assistance in discovering
forms, yet they are of great advantage in disclosing the
frame of parts of the universe, upon whose members they
practise a species of anatomy, and thence occasionally lead
us gently on to sublime and noble axioms, especially 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 ob-
serving the resemblance (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
aud 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
wanting. Sothat 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 fit 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 of 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

' NOVUM ORGANUM. 135

stone, when burnt, frozen, pricked, cut, bent, bruised, and
the like ; although there be no sensation, owing to the ab-
sence 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 upwards and downwards.
And there is no difference between the roots and branches,
except that the root is buried in the earth, and the branches
are exposed to the airand sun. For 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 versa, 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 filtered 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 filter-
ing. 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 con-
stitutes the difference of the sexes appears to differ only as
to the one being internal and the other external; a greater
degree of heat causing the genitals to protrude in the male,
whilst the heat of the female being too weak to effect this,
they are retained internally. |

The fins of fishes, and the feet of quadrupeds, or the feet
and wings of birds, are similar instances; to which Aristotle
adds the four folds in the motion of serpents ;* so that in
the formation of the universe the motion of animals appears
to be chiefly effected by four joints or bendings, 3

The teeth of land animals and the beaks of birds are simi-
lar 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 plant is not absurd. For the head is the
root of the nerves and animal faculties, and the seminal

* Is not this very hasty generalization ? Do serpents move with four folds
only? Observe also the motion of centipedes and other insects.

136 NOVUM ORGANUM.»

parts are the lowest, not including 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.

Lastly, we must particularly recommend and suggest, that
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 ex-
plaining the accurate differences of animals, vegetables, and
minerals, most of which are the mere sport of nature, rather
than of-any real 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 of nature. Our labour must, there-
fore, be directed towards inquiring into and observing resem-
_blances and analogies, both in the whole, and its parts, for
they unite nature, and lay the foundation 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 resemblances: that is, real and substantial resem-
blances, deeply founded in nature, and not casual and su-
perficial, 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 connexion with such serious matters as we now
treat of), who, with much vanity and folly, describe, and
sometimes too invent, unmeaning resemblances and sym-
pathies.

But leaving such to themselves, similar instances are not
to be neglected,in the greater portions of the world’s confor-
mation; 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
intense cold, towards the middle regions (as it is termed)
of the air, and the violent fires which are often found to
burst from subterraneous spots, the similarity consisting in
both being ends and extremes; the extreme of the nature

NOVUM ORGANUM. 137

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 opposition or rejection of the con-
trary nature. ob date

Lastly, in the axioms of the sciences, there is a simila-
rity of instances worthy of observation. Thus the rhetori-
cal trope which is called surprise, is similar to that of music
termed the declining of a cadence.

Again; the mathematical postulate, that “ things which
are equal to the same are equal to one another,” is similar
to the form of the syllogism in logic, which unites things
agreeing in the middle term. Lastly; a certain degree of
sagacity, in collecting and searching for physical points of
similarity, is very useful in many respects.

28. In the seventh rank of prerogative instances we will
place singular instances, which we are also wont to call
irrregular or heteroclite (to borrow a term from the gramma-
rians). 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 themselves. Their use is much the
same with that of clandestine instances: they bring out
and unite nature, and discover genera or common natures,
which must afterwards be limited by real differences. Nor
should we desist from inquiry, until the properties 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 singu-
larity 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 me-
ditation 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; quicksilveramongst metals; theelephant amongst
quadrupeds; the venereal sensation amongst the different
kinds of touch, the scent of sporting dogs amongst those
of smell. The letter S too is considered by the gramma-
rians as sui generis, from its easily uniting with double, or
triple consonants, which no other letter will. These in-

138 NOVUM ORGANUM.

stances are of great value, because they excite and keep
alive inquiry, and correct an understanding depraved by
habit, and the common course of things.

29. 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 and
turns from her ordinary course. For the errors of nature
differ from singular instances, in as much as the latter are the
miracles of species, the former of individuals. Their use is
much the same, for they rectify the understanding in oppo-
sition to habit, and reveal common forms. For with regard
to these also, we must not desist from inquiry, till we dis-
cern the cause of the deviation. The cause does not, how-
ever, in such cases rise to a regular form, but only to the
latent process towards such a form. For he who is ac-
quainted with the paths of nature, will more readily observe
her deviations, and vice versa, he who has learnt her devia-
tions, will be able more accurately to describe her paths. »

They differ again from singular instances, by beg 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 examples, since
they are so abundant. For a compilation, or particular
natural history, must be made of all monsters and prodi-
gious births of nature; of every thing, 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 super-
stition, 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 in-
stances should be derived from some grave and credible
history, and faithful narration.

30. In the ninth rank of prerogative instances we will

* This is well illustrated in plants, for the gardener can produce endless varie-
ties of any known species, but can never produce a new species itself.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 139

place Bordering instances, which we are also wont to term
participants. They are such as exhibit those species of
bodies which appear to be composed of 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 system of things, they are rare and extra-
ordinary. 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 common 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
between putrescence and a plant; 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.* Again,

‘* Simia quam similis turpissima bestia nobis.”
We have also biformed foetus, mingled species, and the
like.

31. 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. Forsince 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, especially 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 contemplation of such
works as are extant, be willing to push forward in his de-
sign with alacrity and vigour, he will undoubtedly either
advance them, or turn them to something within their im-
mediate 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 frequently produced by the excellent and wonder-

* 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 of the flying fish and bat are mere expansions of skin, bearing no resem-
blance whatever to those of birds.

140 NOVUM ORGANUM.

ful works of art: and even to a greater degree, because, the
mode of effectmg and constructing the miracles of art is
generally plain ; whilst that of effecting the miracles of
nature is more obscure. Great care, however, must be taken,
that they do not depress the understanding, and fix it as it
were to earth.

For there is some danger, lest the understanding should
be 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 effect-
ing any matter or work, are 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. 7

Thus (as we have before observed), had any one medi-
tated on balistic machines, and battering rams, as they were
used by the ancients, whatever application he might have
exerted, and though he might have consumed a whole lite
in the pursuit, yet would he never have hit upon the inven-
tion of flaming engines, acting by means of gunpowder:
nor would any person, who had made woollen manufactories
and cotton the subject of his observation and reflection,
have ever discovered thereby the nature of the silk-worm
or of silk. | |

Hence all the most noble discoveries have (if you observe)
come to light, not by any gradual improvement and exten-
sion of the arts, but merely by chance; whilst nothing imi-
tates or anticipates 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 are abundant. The plan to
be pursued is this; all the mechanical, and even the hberal
arts, (as far as they are practical) should be visited and
thoroughly examined, and thence there should be formed a
compilation or particular history, of the great masterpieces,
or most finished works in each, as well as of the mode of
carrying them into effect.

Nor do we confine the diligence to be used in such a
compilation to the leading works and secrets only of every

NOVUM ORGANUM. 141

art, and such as excite wonder; for wonder is engendered
by rarity, since that which is rare, although it be com-
pounded 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 singu-
lar instances of art should 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 magnet, and
the like, all of them most familiar to 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 sin-
gular instance of art. For if you consider the subject atten-
tively, 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 ; all which lat-
ter substances are brittle, and not adherent or tenacious.
On the contrary, paper is a tenacious substance, which can
be cut and torn, sa as toresemble 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, so that scarcely any thing 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 of man, charms and conjuring should not be
altogether despised, for although mere amusements, and of
little use, yet they may afford considerable information.

Lastly; superstition, and magic (in its common accepta~-
tion), are not to be entirely omitted ; for although they be
overwhelmed by a mass of lies and fables, yet some investi-
gation should be made, to see if there be really any latent
natural operation in them ; as in fascination, and the forti-
fying 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.

32. From the foregoing remarks, it is clear that the five
last species of instances (the similar, singular, deviating,

142 NOVUM ORGANUM.

and bordering 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, per-
verted, and distorted by daily and habitual impressions.

They are to be used, therefore, as a preparative, for the
purpose of rectifying and purifying the understanding, for
whatever withdraws it from habit, levels and planes down
its surface for the reception of the dry and pure light of
true notions. These instances, moreover, level and prepare
the way for the operative branch, as we will mention in its
proper place when speaking of the practical deductions.

33. 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
contrary, where the required nature is constantly avoided,
and excluded from attendance, as an enemy. From these
instances may be formed certain and universal propositions,
either affirmative 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 propositions have no great
prerogative, except in the case of migration, of which we
have spoken above. Yet such particular propositions are
of great use, when compared with the universal, as will be
mentioned in its proper place. Nor do we require absolute
affirmation or negation, even in universal propositions, for
if the exceptions be singular or rare, it is sufficient for our
purpose.

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 destroyed by the act of migration, so it is
narrowed by accompanying 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 constitution or formation
of the body, will not be far from bringing to light the form
of the required nature.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 143

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 ap-
proach or retire, but all flame is hot, so that heat always
accompanies the concretion of flame. We 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
hostile 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 eternity or incorruptibility,
we have no universal affirmative within our sphere, for these
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 afhirma-
tive 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 incorruptibility 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.

34. 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 ser-
viceable when subjoined to fixed propositions, but also of
themselves and from their own nature. They indicate with
sufficient precision the real divisions of nature, and mea-
sures of things, and the “ How far” nature effects or allows
of any thing, 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 gunpowder
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.

144 NOVUM ORGANUM.

35. In the thirteenth rank of prerogative instances, we
will place those of Adliance or union. They are such as
mingle and unite natures held to be heterogeneous, and ob-
served 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 phantoms and images of
things, which meet it in disguise in concrete substances.

_ For example; let the required nature be heat. The
classification 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 heterogeneous in their essence and
species, or specific nature; since the heat of the heavenl
bodies and of animals generates and cherishes, 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 fire,
by which the grapes ripen a whole month sooner than in
the air; so 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 difference, and easily ascends to the investiga-
tion of the real differences 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.
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, retirimg and diminished at another ;
which mainly contributes to the generation of bodies. For
Aristotle rightly asserted, that the principal cause of gene-
ration and corruption on the surface of the earth, was the
oblique path of the sun in the Zodiac, whence its heat be-
comes very unequal, partly from the axternation of night and
day, partly from the succession of summer and winter. Yet
must he immediately corrupt and pervert his discovery, by

NOVUM ORGANUM. 145

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 circumstance indifferently and not respectively con-
tributes 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 fire is of great consequence ; 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 reducing 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 pro-
portioned 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 but-
terflies, 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 cele-
brated invention of Fracastorius, of applying a pan consi-
derably 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 brain, and excites them to action, as the fire would
operate on water or air, and in the result produces life.
Eggs are sometimes hatched by the heat of fire, an exact
imitation of animal heat ; and there are 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 towards 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 hight

VOL. XIV, L

146 NOVUM ORGANUM.

as they are termed, that is to say, placed out of their natural
position), are borne in a straight line to masses or aggre~
gates which resemble them, the light towards the heaven,
the heavy towards the earth: and all this is very fine lan- _
guage.

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 follow-
ing some star, has 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 con-
fined to the celestial bodies, but is shared also by air and
water.

Again; 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 the surface
of the water, it is prevented from ascending any further,
by the slight resistance it meets with in the water, which
does not allow an immediate separation of its parts, so that
the tendency of the air to rise must be very slight.

Again; let the required nature be weight. Itis certainly a
received classification ; that dense and solid bodies are borne
towards the centre of the earth, and rare and light bodies
to the circumference of the heavens, as their appropriate
“gen As far as relates to places (though these things

ave 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 per-
forated, heavy bodies would stop on their arrival at the centre.
This centre would indeed be an efficacious nothing or ma-
thematical point could it affect bodies or be sought by

NOVUM ORGANUM. 147

them, for a body is not acted upon except by a body.*
In fact, this tendency to ascend and descend is either in the
conformation of the moving body, 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 dis-
tance andno further),+ 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 sud-
denly effused by waterspouts appears to be so considerable,
that the water must have been collected previously, and
have remained fixed where it was formed, until it was after-
wards 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 certain. In the mean while,
both in this respect and many others, it will readily be seen
how deficient we are in natural history, since we are forced
to have 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 ani-
mal instinct, appearssto be perfectly correct. Yet there are
some instances of the actions of brutes which seem to show
that they too can syllogize. Thus it is related, that a crow,
which had nearly perished from thirst in a great drought,
- saw some water in the hollow trunk of 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 classifi-
cation appears real and certain, which considers light as

* But see Bacon’s own corollary at the end of the instances of divorce,
Aphorism 37.

t Since Newton’s discovery of the law of gravitation we find that the attrac-
tive force of the earth must extend to an infinite distance. Bacon himself
alludes to the operation of this attractive force at great distances in the instances
of the rod, Aphorism 45,

148 NOVUM ORGANUM.

that’ which is originally visible, and confers the power of
seeing ; and colour as being secondarily visible, and not ca-
pable of being seen without light, so as to appear a mere
image or modification of light. Yet there are instances of
alliance in each respect; as in snow when in great quan-
tities, and in the flame of sulphur; the one being a colour
originally and in itself light, the other a light verging
towards colour.*

36. In the fourteenth rank of prerogative instances, we will
place the instances of the Cross, borrowing our 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, as
it were, balanced, and uncertain to which of two or more
natures the cause of the required nature should be assigned,
on account of the frequent and usual concurrence of several
natures; the instances of the cross show that the union of
one nature with the required nature is firm and indisso-
luble, 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, they are found amongst the instances already ob-
served, 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 between each advance and retreat, with some
little difference, agreeing with the motion of the moon.
We have here the following ¢ross-ways.

This motion must be occasioned either 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 same time be an ebb on an-

* Snow reflects light, but is not a source of light.

NOVUM-ORGANUM. 149

other, and the question therefore is reduced to this. Now
Acosta, and some others, after a diligent inquiry, have ob-
served that the flood tide takes place on the coast of Florida,
and the opposite coasts of Spain and Africa, at the same
time, as does also 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 does not prove the necessity of a
rising motion, nor refute the notion of a progressive mo-
tion. 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 and
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 in-
quire, 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.

We 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 assertion, 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
anebb. 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: but if the earth revolves, it may perhaps happen,
that from the unequal 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 the ebb.” A separate in-

150 NOVUM ORGANUM.

quiry 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 progressive motion be rejected. We have
then three ways before us, with regard to thisnature. The
motion, by which the 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 quan-
tity) is extended or rarified, so as to occupy a greater space
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
themselves and fall from sympathy, by some magnetic power
attracting and calling them up as it were from above. Let
us then (passing over the two first motions) reduce the in-
vestigation 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 rise on one side, and for that reason be
diminished, and ebb on another. But it will again neces-
sarily 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.

Weat 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 the 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

NOVUM ORGANUM. | 15]

force can be admitted, if otherwise, it must be entirely re-
jected. 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 ob-
served, if this be the case, that (contrary to common opinion)
the waters rise in ebbs, and only return to their former po-
sition 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 realin the 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 perceptible 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 dis-
tance, being quickest of all in the heavens, then the diurnal
motion should certainly be considered as real in the hea-
vens, 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
revolution, 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 hy-
pothesis for abridging and facilitating calculation, 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 be-
hind each other, and the second by spiral lines, so that the

152 NOVUM ORGANUM.

inaccuracy of thereturn, and declination to the tropics may be
rather modifications of the one diurnal motion than contrary
motions, or about different poles. And it is most certain,
if we consider ourselves for a moment as part of the vulgar
(setting aside the fictions of astronomers and the school,
who are wont undeservedly to attack 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 some-
times caused to be represented by wires ina sort of machine.

We may take the following instances of the cross upon
this subject. Ifit be found in any history, worthy of credit,
that there has existed any comet, high or low, which has
not revolved in manifest harmony (however irregularly) with
the diurnal motion, 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. Heavy
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 if 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.

The following instance of the cross may be adopted.
Take a clock moved by leaden weights, and another by a
spring, and 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 ob-
served, 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

* A close approximation to the truth and the experiment pointed out is very
ingenious ; indeed the oscillations of the pendulum, moving by its own weight,
have since been used as the most delicate tests of the variation of gravity from
the equator towards the poles.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 153

depth, in order to see whether the clock move more quickly
from the increased power of the weights.* But if this
power be found to diminish at a height, and to increase in
subterraneous 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. We 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 ingenious 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 crust
of the earth does not, in his opinion, possess the mag-
netic power), yet, by long continued motion, could supply
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 ig-
nition, and afterwards recovering themselves, were at 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 observed, do not completely prove his assertion.

An instance of the cross on this point might be as fol-
lows. Let a small magnetic globe be taken, and its poles
marked, and placed towards the east and west, not towards
the north and south, and let it continue thus. Then let an
untouched needle be placed over it, and suffered 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 world, and turn to those of the magnet, and,
therefore, as long as it remains in the above position will
turn to theeast and west. But if the needle, when removed
from the magnet, and placed upon a pivot, be found im-
mediately to turn to the north and south, or even by degrees

* The attractive power to the centre is on the whole diminished in mines, be-
cause the earth above attracts in the contrary direction.

154 NOVUM ORGANUM.

to return thither, then the presence of the earth must be
considered as the cause, but if it remains turned as at first
towards the east 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 aérial (as most
of the ancient philosophers have thought), or solid and
dense (as Gilbert and many of the moderns, with some of
the ancients, hold).* The reasons for this latter opinion
are grounded chiefly 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 as to exhibit reflection by a rare
body, such as flame, if it be but sufficiently dense. Now
certainly one of the reasons of twilight is the reflection + of
the rays of the sun by the upper part of the atmosphere.
We see the sun’s rays also reflected on fine evenings, by
streaks of moist clouds, with a splendour not less, but per-
haps more bright and glorious, than that reflected from the
body of the moon, 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 of 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 expected
from flame, unless it be of some depth, for otherwise it be-
comes nearly transparent. This at least may be considered
certain, that light is always either received and 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, con-

* A sufficient proof of its necessary solidity is now afforded by the attraction
of the sea, and the moon’s motion round the earth.

i Rather the refraction—the sky or air, however, reflects the blue rays of
light.

¢ 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 window in the day time
will enable the glass to reflect distinctly for the same reason ; namely, that the
reflected rays are not mixed and confused with those transmitted from the other
side of the window.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 155

sidering 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 satisfies 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 crossways. 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 for-
ward 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 forward. For it is clear, that
this cannot be attributed to the air’s being collected behind
the body, because the source of motion is 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
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 mo-
tion is excited, either by the mere effort of the body ex-
panding 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 consider
the first effort. For men think that they are great philo-
sophers, when they assert that flame, from the form of the
element, is endowed with a kind of necessity of occupying
a greater space, than the same body had occupied when in
the form of powder, and that thence proceeds the motion
in question. 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 expansion, and the consequent emis-
sion or removal of the opposing body, is necessary if flame
be once generated ; but such a necessity is resey re if the
solid opposing mass suppress the flame before it be gene-

156 NOVUM ORGANUM.

rated. And we in fact see that flame, especially at the mo-
ment 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 ex-
ploding flames and fiery blasts arises from the conflict of
two bodies of a decidedly opposite nature ; the one very in-
flammable, 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 be-
coming 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 camphire, naphtha, and the like, and their compounds,

which take fire 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 pro-
duced, which also happens, in a less degree, in stiff leaves;
from the escape of the aqueous part, before the oily part
has caught fire. This is more particularly 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,
sa is said, when mixed with gunpowder, to increase its
orce.

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 not owe their continuance to the same
mass of flame, but to a continued succession of new flame
recularly 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.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 157

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 ca-
pable by its own nature of duration, but is subjected to
some violence from the contrary natures which surround it,
and is destroyed. :

We may, therefore, adopt the following instance of the
CTOss. e see to what a height the flames rise in great
conflagrations ; for as the base of the flame becomes more
extensive, its vertex is more lofty. It appears, then, that
the commencement of the extinction takes place at the sides,
where the flame is compressed by the air, and is ill at ease.
But the centre of the flame, which is untouched by the air,
and surrounded by flame, continues the same, and is not
extinguished, until compressed by degrees by the air at-
tacking it from the sides. All flame, therefore, is pyramidal,
having its base near the source, and its vertex pointed from
its being resisted by the air, and not supplied from the
source. On the contrary, the smoke, which is narrow at
the 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 are clearly heterogeneous.

The instance of the cross will be more accurate, if the
experiment can be made by flames of different colours.
Take, therefore, a small metal sconce, and place a lighted
taper in it, then put it in a basin, and pour a small quan-
tity of spirits of wine 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, there-
fore, whether the latter (which can easily be distinguished
from the former by its colour, for flames do not mix imme-
diately as liquids do), continue pyramidal, or tend more to
a globular figure, since there is nothing to destroy or com-
press it. Ifthe latter result be observed, it must be consi-
dered as settled, that flame continues positively the same,
whilst inclosed 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.

37. Wewill treat of the instances of Divorce as the fifteenth
of our prerogative instances. They indicate the separation
of natures of the most common occurrence. They differ,
however, from those subjoined to the accompanying in-

158° NOVUM ORGANUM.

stances ; for the instances of divorce point out the separa-
tion 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 Telesius 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 com-
pass 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 ope-
rate at a distance. For such action takes place in time, by
distinct moments, not in an instant ; and in space by regular
- degrees and distances. There is, therefore, some one mo-
ment of time and some interval of space, in which the
power or action is suspended betwixt the two bodies creat-
ing the motion. Our consideration then is reduced to this,
whether the bodies which are the extremes of motion pre-
pare or alter the intermediate bodies, so that the power
advances from one extreme to the other by succession and
actual contact, and in the mean time exists in some inter-
mediate body ; or whether there exist 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 is indeed probable that the
intermediate bodies are prepared and altered, the more so
because a qualified medium is required for their operation.
But the magnetic or attractive power admits of an indifferent
medium, and it is not impeded in any. But if that power
or action is independent of the intermediate body, it follows
that it is a natural power or action existing in a certain

NOVUM ORGANUM. 159

time and space without any body, since it exists neither in
the extreme nor in the intermediate bodies. Hence the
magnetic action may be taken as an instance of divorce of
corporeal nature 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 by those who philosophise
according to the senses. For if natural power and action
emanating from a body can exist at any time and place en-
tirely without any body, itis nearly a proof that it can also
emanate originally from an incorporeal substance. For a
corporeal nature appears to be no less necessary for sup-
porting and conveying than for exciting or generating na-
tural action.

38. Next follow five classes of instances which we are
wont to call by the general term of instances of the Lamp,
or of immediate information. They are such as assist the
senses. For since every interpretation of nature sets out
from the senses, and leads, by a regular fixed and well
established road, from the perceptions 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 abun-
dant and accurate, every thing else must be more easy 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 con-
tinued 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.

39. 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 dis-
tinctly.

160 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 informa-
tion) in the lately invented micréscopes, which exhibit the
latent and invisible minutize 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 animaleule, 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 discovered 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 dishonour on those of art; which only means
that the tissue of nature is. much more delicate than that of
art. For the microscope 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 observa-
tion of any but the most minute bodies, and even of those
if parts of a larger body, destroys their utility. For if the
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 minutie and irregularities of
gems, liquids, urine, blood, wounds, and mahy other things
could be rendered visible, the greatest advantageswould
without doubt be derived.

We have an instance of the second kind in the telescope,
discovered 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 its aid we are assured that the milky way
is but a knot or constellation 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

NOVUM ORGANUM. 161

without the telescope. By the telescope, also, we can
behold the revolutions of smaller stars round Jupiter, whence
it may be conjectured that there are several centres of
motion among the stars. By its assistance, also, the irre-
cularity of light and shade on the moon’s surface is more
clearly observed and determined, so as to allow of a sort of
Selenography. 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,
astrolabes, 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..

40. In the seventeenth rank of prerogative instances
we will place Citing instances (to borrow a term from the
tribunals), because they cite those things to appear, which
have not yet appeared. 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 imme-
diately 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 be-
cause they are not in sufficient quantity to strike the senses ;
or because there is 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 perceived on account of the distance, there be

added or substituted some other object, which can excite
VOL. XIV. - M

162 NOVUM ORGANUM.

and strike the sense from a greater distance, as in the com-
munication 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 deli-
cate, can neither be seen nor touched; a reduction there-
fore to 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 intangible 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, 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 manifest
effects. :

For in every tangible and inanimate body the enclosed
spirit at first increases, and as it were feeds on the tangible
parts which are most open and prepared for it; and when
it has digested and modified them, and turned them into
spirit, it escapes with them. This formation and increase
of spirit is rendered sensible by the diminution of weight:
for in every desiccation something is lost in quantity, not
only of the spirit previously existing in the body, but of the
body itself, which was previously tangible, and has been
recently changed, for the spirit itself has no weight. The
departure or emission of spirit is rendered 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.* In compact bodies

* Rust is now well known to be a chymical combination of oxygen with the
metal, and the metal when rusty acquires additional weight. The theory of
spirits to which Bacon frequently recurs is very obscure, especially as applied to

NOVUM ORGANUM. 163

the spirit does not find pores and passages for its escape,
and is therefore obliged to force out, and drive before it,
the tangible parts also, which consequently protrude ;
whence arises rust, and the like. The contraction of the
tangible parts, occasioned by the emission of part of the
spirit (whence arises desiccation), 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 ex-
panded and excited by heat, or the like (which happens in
solid and tenacious bodies), then the bodies are softened, as
in hot iron; or flow, as in metals; or melt, as in gums, wax,
and the like. The contrary effects of heat, therefore (hard-
ening some substances and melting others), are easily recon-
ciled,* because the spirit is emitted 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 plants. These are rendered sensible,
chiefly by diligent observation of the first beginnings, and
rudiments or effects of life in animalcule sprung from putre-
faction, as in the eggs of ants, worms, mosses, frogs after
rain, &e. Both a mild heat and a pliant substance, how-
ever, 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 in many points (as unconnected spirit, branching
spirit, branching and cellular spirit, the first of which is

inanimate objects. His theory as to the generation of animals is deduced from
the erroneous notion of the possibility of spontaneous generation (as it was termed ).
See the next paragraph but one.

* Limus ut hic durescit, et hac ut cera liquescit
Uno eodemque igni.—Virg. Eel. viii.

164 NOVUM ORGANUM.

that of all inanimate 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 con-
formation 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 difference of formation depends on the abun-
dance or scarcity of matter within the same space or dimen-
sions. For the other formations which regard the dissimi-
larity 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 cohe-
rence 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 no-
thing proceeds from nothing,” and “ that nothing is reduced
to nothing,” but that the quantum, or sum total of matter,
is constant, and is neither increased nor diminished. Nor
is it less true, “ that out of this 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, if 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 abun-
dance or scarcity of matter are properly derived the notions
of density and rarity, which are taken in various and pro-
miscuous 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

NOVUM ORGANUM. 165

quantity are rendered sensible by weight. For weight is
proportionate to the quantity of matter, as regards the
parts of a tangible substance, but spirit and its quantity
of matter are not to be computed by weight, which spirit
rather diminishes than augments.

We have made a tolerably accurate table of weight, in
which we have selected the weights and size of all the
metals, the 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 unexpected results. Nor is
this of little consequence, that it serves to demonstrate that
the whole range of the variety of tangible bodies, with
which we are acquainted (we mean tolerably close, and
not spungy 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 fol-
lowing contrivance. We took a vial capable of containing
about an ounce, using a small 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 space 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 the steam might not return to a liquid
state by the cessation of heat, and confound the proportions.

166 NOVUM ORGANUM.

We then removed the bladder, and again took the weight
of the spirit which remained ; and so calculated the quan-
tity which had been converted into vapour, or an aeriform
shape, and then examined how much space had been occu-
pied 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 m the bladder, and subtracted the
results; from which it was clear, that the body, thus con-
verted 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
degree as not to be sensible from its weakness. They are
rendered sensible by the thermometer as we described it
above ;* for the cold and heat are not actually perceived by
the touch, but heat expands and cold contracts the air.
Nor, again, is that expansion or contraction of the air in
itself visible, but the air when expanded depresses the
water, and when contracted raises it, which is the first re-
duction 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 experiments 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 destruction
of any delicate conformation, in which principally consist
the hidden virtues and sympathies. Nor do men im these
separations 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

* See Table of Degrees, No. 38.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 167

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 arti-
ficial bodies, by which the genuine are distinguished from
the adulterated, 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 fifth 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 sensible by the
accumulation of motion ; that which is imperceptible from
its velocity, has not as yet been well measured ; it is neces-
sary, 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
of 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 1s 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 illumined from
any extraneous 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

168 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 rela-
tion to man, and not in their relation to the universe, and
which is only corrected by universal reasoning and philo-
sophy.

ri In the eighteenth rank of prerogative instances we
will class the instances of the Road, which we are also wont
to call Jtinerant and jointed instances. They are such as
indicate the gradually continued motions of nature. This
species of instances 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 when
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 pulling up every day seeds which have been
two, three, or four days 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 hatching of eggs, where we may easily see the process
of animation and organization, and what parts are formed
of the yolk, and what of the white of the egg, and the like.
The same may be said of the inquiry into the formation of
animals from putrefaction; 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

NOVUM ORGANUM. 169

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 con-
templations 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 we 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, vine-
gar, or verjuice, and very different again from that observed
in milk and oil, and the like; and this was easily seen, b
boiling them with slow heat, in a glass vessel, urotich
which the whole may be clearly perceived. But we merely
mention this, 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.

42. In the nineteenth rank of prerogative instances we
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 defi-
cient, and we, therefore, have recourse to them when appro-
priate instances cannot be obtained. This substitution is
twofold, either by approximation or by analogy. For in-
stance ; 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 approximation.

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 impercep-
tible body, but by the consideration of some similar per-
ceptible body. For instance, let the subject for inquiry be

170 NOVUM ORGANUM.

the mixture of spirits, which are invisible bodies. There ap-
pears 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 substances; 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 sub-
stances, not bearing mixture very well by simple collision,
whilst they appear, however, 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 the 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 image, 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 investigated,
whether there can be such a difference of nature between
spirituous substances, as between liquids, for then these
images might conveniently be substituted by analogy.

And although we have observed of these supplementary
instances, that information is to be derived from them,
when appropriate instances are wanting, by way of refuge,
yet we would have it understood, that they are also of
great use, when the appropriate instances are at hand, in
order to confirm the information afforded by them; of
which we will speak more at length, when our subject leads
us, in due course, to the supports of induction.

43. 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

NOVUM ORGANUM. 171

adopt the latter name, because they twitch the understand-
ing, and the former because they pierce nature, whence we
style them occasionally the instances of Democritus.* They
are such as warn the understanding 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 be drawn out
into so many letters; that silver merely gilt on its surface
should be stretched to such a length of gilt wire; that a
little worm, such as you may find on the skin, should pos-
sess both a spirit and a varied conformation of its parts;
that a little 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 a cloud of smoke
should be raised by a little incense; that such accurate
differences of sounds as articulate words should be conveyed |
in all directions through the air, and even penetrate the
pores of wood and water (though they become much weak-
ened), 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
description of body eveg the most compact; but (what is
still more wonderful) that in all these cases the action of
one should not impede that of another ina 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, so many different perfumes,
as of the violet, rose, &c. besides cold and heat, and mag-
netic 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 some 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 dif-
ferent nature, yet those of a similar nature subdue and ex-
tinguish each other; as the light of the sun does that of
the candle, the sound of a cannon that of the voice, a strong
perfume a more delicate one, a powerful heat a more gentle

* Alluding to his theory of atoms.

172 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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.

44. We have now spoken of the instances which assist

the senses, and which are principally of service as regards —

information ; for information begins from the senses. But
our whole labour terminates in practice, and as the former
is the beginning, so 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 of important in-
stances. Practice is either deceptive or too laborious. It
is generally deceptive (especially after a diligent examina-
tion 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 circum-
stances be not well and diligently considered, the sciences
may indeed be beautiful in theory, but are of no effect in
practice. We call the four instances referred to this class
Mathematical instances and instances of measure.

Practice is laborious either frona the multitude of instru-
ments, 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 in-
stances.

45. 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

NOVUM ORGANUM.~ 173

distance, as it were, nearer, as in the example of tele-
scopes.

Many powers act and take effect only by actual touch,
as in the percussion of bodies; where the one does not
remove the other, unless the impelling touch the impelled
body. External applications in medicine, as ointment, and
plasters, do not exercise their efficacy, except when in con-
tact 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 every day in-
stances) when amber or jet attract 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 magnets, are attracted together,
acts within a definite and narrow sphere, but 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 probable 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.* Again, some conflagrations and the
kindling of flames take place at very considerable dis-
tances, with particular substances, as they report of the
naphtha of Babylon.. Heat too insinuates itself at wide
distances, as does also cold, so that the masses of ice which
are broken off and float upon the Northern Ocean, and are
borne through the Atlantic to the coast of Canada, become
perceptible by the inhabitants, and strike them with cold
from adistance. Perfumes also (though here there appears
to be always some 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 marjorum bushes, and the like. Lastly, the rays of light
and the impressions of sound act at extensive distances.

Yet all these powers, whether acting at a small or great

* Observe the approximation to Newton’s theory.

‘174 NOVUM ORGANUM.

distance, certainly act within definite distances, which are
well ascertained by nature: so that there is a limit depend-
ing 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 boundaries
of violent motions, such as missiles, projectiles, wheels,
and the like, since they are also manifestly confined to
certain limits.

Some motions and virtues are to be found of a directly
contrary 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 re-
member having heard from a person deserving of credit, that
in being cured of a cataract (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 contraction into a lesser sphere. For in our measure
of this motion we must inquire, what degree of compres-
sion or extension bodies easily and readily admit of, accord-
ing to their nature, and at what point they begin to resist
it, so as, at last, to bear it no further; 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.

We have proved this bya more delicate experiment. We
took a metal bell, of a light and thin.sort such as is used
for salt-cellars, and immerged it in a basin of water, so as

* Query.

ae

NOVUM ORGANUM. 175

to carry the air contained in its interior down with it to
the bottom of the basin. We had first, however, placed a
small globe at the bottom of the basin, over which we
placed the bell. The result was, that if the globe were
small, compared with the interior of the 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 a glass egg, with a small hole at one end; we
drew out the air by 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, and dilated beyond its natural
state, and therefore striving to recover and contract itself (so
that if the egg had not been immersed in 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
of considerable contraction, as has been before observed ;
but tangible bodies (such as water) admit of it much less
readily, and to a less extent. We investigated the latter
point by the following experiment.

We had a leaden globe made, capable of containin
about two pints, wine measure, and of tolerable thick-
ness, 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 sub-
mit 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 con-
strained by great violence.

* This passage shows that the pressure of the external atmosphere, which
forces the water into the egg, was not in Bacon’s time understood.

176 NOVUM ORGANUM.

The more solid, dry, or compact bodies, such as stones, .

wood, and metals, admit of much less and indeed scarcely
any perceptible compression, or expansion, but escape by
breaking, slipping forward, or other efforts; as appears in
bending wood, or steel for watchsprings, in projectiles ham-
mering, 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 estima-
tion, or comparison, as opportunity permits.

46. 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 hourglasses, employed by the ancients
instead of those with sand. They are such as measure
nature by the moments of 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 suddenly, 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, 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 conjurors, 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-

sometimes heard at the distance of thirty miles), the sound
of those nearest to the spot is heard before that of 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 velo-

city of their motion, such as a musket ball. For the flight

NOVUM ORGANUM. ae 4

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 some-
times 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 appear-
ance 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. That doubt, however (as far as regards
any great difference between the true and apparent time),
was subsequently completely set at rest, when we consi-
dered 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 of 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 be-
tween 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 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

* This is a singular approximation to Roemer's discovery of time being re-
quired for the propagation of light.

VOL. XIv. N

178 NOVUM ORGANUM.

than sound. We perceive, also, that visible images are
received by the sight with greater rapidity than they are
dismissed, and for this reason, a violin string touched with
the finger appears double or triple, because the new image
is received before the former one is dismissed. Hence, also,
rings when spinning appear globular, and a lighted torch,
_ borne rapidly along at night, appears to have 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. He has, however, 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 quan-
tity of powder; the reason of which is decidedly this, that
the motion of the expansion of the gunpowder is much
more rapid than that of gravity, which would resist it, so
that the former has terminated before the latter has com-

menced. 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 be but 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
purgative property is first extracted, and then the astrin-
gent; we have experienced something of the same kind in
steeping violets in vinegar, which first extracts the sweet
and delicate odour of 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

NOVUM ORGANUM. 179

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 perfume, not inferior to the flower itself, for a
whole year. It must be observed, however, that the per-
fume does not acquire its full strength, till about a month
after the infusion. In the distillation of aromatic plants
macerated in spirits of wine, it 1s well known that an
aqueous and useless phlegm rises first, then water contain-
ing more of the spirit, and lastly water containing more of
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. :

47. In the twenty-third rank of prerogative instances we
will place instances of quantity, which we are also wont
to call the doses of nature (borrowing a word from medi-
cine). They are such as measure the powers by the quan-
tity of bodies, and point out the effect of the quantity in
the degree of power. And in the first place, some powers:
only subsist in the universal quantity, or such as bears a
relation to the conformation 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 admis-
sion 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 so 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 dia-

ao when pointed, makes an impression on glass, and the
ike.

180 _ NOVUM‘ORGANUM.

Here, too, we must not rest contented with a vague re-
sult, but iquire into the exact proportion of quantity
requisite for a particular 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 in-
stance, would fall in a given 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, therefore, must be *de-
termined by experiment and not by probability or con-
jecture.

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.

48. 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
the 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 are compounded, decomposed, and com-
‘bined, 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 de-
monstration and definition of the instances in question, may
be rendered more clear.

Let the first motion be that of the resestance of matter,
which exists in every particle, and completely prevents its
annihilation; so 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 straights 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 either be nothing or nowhere.
This motion is designated by the schools (which generally
name and define every thing by its effects and inconve-
niences rather than by its inherent cause) by the axiom;
“ that two bodies cannot 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. ®t

Let the second motion be that which we term the motion
of connexion, by which bodies do not allow themselves to
be separated at any point from the contact of another body,

NOVUM ORGANUM. 181

delighting, as it were, in the mutual connexion and con-
tact. 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 perforated jars, unless
the mouth be opened to admit the air, and innumerable in-
stances of a like nature.

Let the third be that which we term the motion of l-
beriy ; by which bodies strive to deliver themselves from
any unnatural pressure or tension, and to restore them-
selves to the dimensions suited to their mass; and of
which also there are innumerable examples. Thus we have
examples of their escaping from pressure, in the water in
swimming, in the air in flying, in the water again in row-
ing, and in the air in the undulation of the winds, 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 report, and that be-
fore 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 suc-
tion, 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 ;” injudi-
ciously enough, since this motion is to be 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 it correctly and clearly ; for some most care-
lessly confound this with the two others of resistance and
connexion; namely, the freedom from pressure with the
former, and that from tension with the latter; as if bodies |
when compressed yielded or expanded to prevent a pene-
tration 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

182 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 of condensa-
tion and rarefaction, whilst thé 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 sud-

denly, but only to change by degrees, and of their own ac-_

cord. 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
Democritus (who, in explaining his primary motions, is
to be ranked even below the middling class of philo-
sophers) termed the motion of a blow, is nothing else than
this motion of liberty, namely, a tendency to 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
compressed by the impelling force. When that takes place,
the 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 mo-
tion of liberty, bodies abhor, reject, and avoid a new size or
volume, or any new expansion or contraction (for these dif-
ferent 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 wil-
lingly 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 instruments
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

sxe testa
eGo
a ip ias

a ie

NOVUM ORGANUM. 183

by compression, resists, and wishes to become as it was be-
fore, namely, more expanded; but if there happen an in-
tense and continued cold, it changes itself readily and of
its own accord, igto 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 mo-
tion of connexion), 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 re-
sistance 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 at-
tempt be made to push this separation to still smaller par-
ticles. Thus, in mortars, the pestle produces no effect
after a certain degree of contusion, water does not penetrate
small fissures, and the air itself, notwithstanding its sub-
tilty, 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 ac-
quisition, or the motion of need. It is that by which
bodies placed amongst others of a heterogeneous and, as it
were, hostile nature, if they meet with the mgans or oppor-
tunity of avoiding them and uniting themselves with others
of a more analagous nature, even when these latter are not
closely allied to them, immediately seize and, as it were,
select them, and appear to consider it as something ac-
quired (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. eae too, and
cloth, and the like, do not agree with the air, which is in-
herent 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

184 NOVUM ORGANUM.

be out of the water or wine, and at some height above it,
will yet gradually absorb them.

Hence an excellent rule is derived for the opening and
dissolution 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 it-
self to receive the former, and excludes or removes the lat-
ter.* Nor is the effect or power of this motion confined
to contact, for the electric energy (of 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 to- |

wards 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 sub-
stances; or, perhaps, because it does not cease, which is
little to be wondered at, since heaven and earth are always
present, whilst the causes and sources of many other mo-
tions 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 /esser
congregation, by which the homogeneous parts in any body
separate themselves from the heterogeneous and unite to-
gether, 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

* This is one of the most useful practical methods in chymistry at the present
day.

ee
earch 43
ot ee

NOVUM ORGANUM. 185

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: Ist, because the
latter is the stimulus of a malignant and contrary nature ;
whilst in this of which we treat (if there be no impediment
or restraint), the parts are united by their affinity, although
there be no foreign nature to create a struggle; 2dly, be-
cause 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, sub-
stances which are connected by a decided kindred resem-
blance 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 dis-
turb the union. 3

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 sluggish-
ness; heat; the active power of a similar body; vivid and
powerful motion. With regard to the 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 if one were to define man, to be that which
sows 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 slug-
gishness, which before restrained their desire. With regard
to the assistance derived from the power of a similar 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. ith

186 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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
the sluggishness of the wood; of which two last experi-
ments we have spoken above in the aphorism on clandestine
instances.*

The confinement of the motion of lesser congregation,
which arises from the power of the predominant body, is
shown in the 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 ef the whole, the several
different parts do not collect themselves separately on:ac-
count of the check ; but as soon as that spirit has evapo-
rated 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 permanent 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 putrefaction depends on the congregation of the
homogeneous parts, whence, by degrees, there ensues a
corruption of the first form (as it 1s called) and the gene-
ration of another. For the decomposition 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 inter-
rupted, is simple, but if there be various obstacles, putrefac-
tions ensue, which are the rudiments of a new generation,
But 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 influence) is disturbed and ceases; which we
perceive to be the case in innumerable instances. Thus
the daily agitation or flowing of water prevents putrefaction;
winds prevent the air from being pestilent; corn turned
. about and shaken in granaries continues clean; in short,
every thing which is externally agitated will with difficulty
rot internally.

* See Aphorism 25.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 187

We must not omit that union of the parts of bodies which
is the principal cause of induration and desiccation. When
the spirit or moisture, which has evaporated into spirit, has
escaped from a porous body (such as wood, bone, parch-
ment, and the like), the thicker parts are drawn together,
and united with a greater effort, and induration or desic-
cation is the consequence; and this we attribute not so much
to the motion of connexion (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. We per-
ceive 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 instru-
ments, 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, however, conspicuous in the magnet,
and magnetised iron. Whilst speaking of the motions of
the magnet, we must plainly distinguish them, for there are
four distinct powers or effects of the magnet which should
not be confounded, although the wonder and astonishment
of mankind has classed them together. 1. The attraction
of the magnet to the magnet, or of iron to the magnet, or of
magnetised 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
white.* Let this suffice for the motion of lesser congre-
gation.

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 congregation do, nor end by bringing the sub-
stances into contact, as all do, but only raise them, and

* Query.

188 NOVUM ORGANUM.

make them swell without any 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 ;* these motions do
not appear capable of being classed under either of those of
congregation, but to be, as it were, intermediately and im-
pertectly congregative, and thus to form a distinct species.

Let the tenth motion be that of avozdance, or that which
is opposed to the motion of lesser congregation, by which
bodies, with a kind of antipathy, avoid and disperse, and
separate themselves from, or refuse to unite themselves with
others of a hostile nature. For although this may some-
times appear to be an accidental motion, necessarily at-
tendant 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, espe-
cially the smell and taste. For a fetid smell is rejected by
the nose, so as to produce a sympathetic motion of expul-
sion at the mouth of the stomach ; a bitter and rough taste
is rejected by the palate or throat, so as to produce a sym-

pathetic concussion and shivering 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 subterraneous 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:

quantities, 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 affinity of its

* Observe this approximation to Newton’s theory !

NOVUM ORGANUM. 189

parts with those substances, so that when surrounded by
them it draws itself back, and its avoidance of these inter-
vening obstacles is greater than its desire of reuniting itself
to its homogeneous 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 instance of the motion in
question is seen in nitre, and crude bodies of a like nature,
which abhor flame, as may be observed in gunpowder,
quicksilver, and gold. The avoidance of one pole of 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 multi-
plies 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 oleagi-
nous spirit contained in its food, multiplies itself and gene-
rates 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 separation and rejection.
But to leave such trifling, it is most certain that all the
parts of vegetables and animals, as well the homogeneous
as organic, first of all attract those juices contained in their
food, which are nearly common, or at least not very dif-
ferent, and then assimilate and convert them into their own

190 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 converting them into spirit,
which afterwards is exhaled, whence ensues a diminution
of weight, and a desiccation of which we have spoken
elsewhere.* Nor should we, in speaking of assimilation,
neglect to mention the accretion which 1s usually distin-
guished from aliment, and which is observed when mud
grows into a mass between stones, and is converted into a
stony substance, and the scaly substance round the teeth
is converted into one no less hard than the teeth them-
selves ; for we are of opinion that there exists in all bodies
a desire of assimilation, as well as of uniting with homo-
geneous 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 men-
tioned by us under that name. It is, like that, a diffusive,
communicative, transitive, and multiplymg 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 converted and changed
into the assimilating body. The latter proceeds 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,

* See the Citing Instances, Aphorism 40.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 19]

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 succes-
sive and continued motion in dough, beer, cheese, or 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 zmpression, which
is also a species of motion of assimilation, and the most
subtile of diffusive motions. We have thought it right,
however, to consider it as a distinct species, on account of
its remarkable difference from the two last. For the simple
motion of assimilation transforms 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 impor-
tance to the flame or air next generated. So, also, the
motion of excitement still continues for a considerable 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, al-
though diffusive and transitive, appears, nevertheless, to
depend on the first agent, so that upon the removal of the
latter the former immediately 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 generation of Jupiter, because
when born they continue to exist; and the latter, the mo-
tion 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 percussions of sounds; 3.
in magnetic attractions as regards communication. For, on
the removal of light, colours and all its other images disap-
pear, as on the cessation of the first percussion and the vi-
bration of the body sound soon fails; and although sounds
are agitated by the wind, like waves, yet it is to be observed,
that the same sound does not last during the whole time of
the reverberation. Thus, when a bell is struck, the sound

192 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 sounds; which is made mani-
fest by stopping and confining the sonorous body; thus, if
a bell be stopped and held tightly, so as to be immovable,
the sound fails, and there is no further reverberation, and if
a musical string be touched after the first vibration, either
with the finger (as in the harp), or a quill (as in the harp-
sichord), the sound immediately ceases. If the magnet be
removed the iron falls. The moon, however, cannot be re-
moved from the sea, nor the earth from a heavy falling
body, and we can, therefore, make no experiment upon
them, but the case is the same.

Let the fourteenth motion be that of configuration or —

position, by which bodies appear to desire a peculiar situa-
tion, collocation, and configuration with others, rather than
union or separation. This is a very abstruse motion, and
has not been well investigated; and, in some instances,

appears to occur almost without any cause, although we ©

be mistaken in supposing this to be ria 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 un-
reasonable, since these phenomena should be received as
determinate and the objects of our experience. There are,
indeed, some ultimate and self-existing phenomena in na-
ture, but those which we have just mentioned are not to be
referred to that class: for we attribute them to a certain har-
mony and consent 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?!
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 par-
ticular collocation and position of 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 ins
liquids by which, when compressed, they successively raise
different parts of their mass before they can escape, so as

ee.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 193

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 na-
ture of the bodies and their effective powers, and also ac-
cording 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 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. This 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 extin-
guished. Nor is this motion peculiar to spirits only, al-
though in most bodies the spirit predominates, owing to its
rapid motion and penetration; for the grosser parts predo-
minate in denser bodies, which are not filled 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 con-
trivance, 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 clas-
sification of motions, which is made entirely with the view
of assisting the investigation of wrestling instances, or in-
stances 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 particular
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

VOL, XIV. )

194 NOVUM ORGANUM.

at which they either revolve according to their peculiar na-
ture, 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, the variation of the poles if they be
moveable ;, which, however, only affects revolution when cir-
cular. 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 of 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
communicated to the air and water. The rotation of mis-
siles, as in darts, musket balls, and the like, we refer en-
tirely 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 conveniences and inconveniences ;
so that being removed from their proper position, they strive
to escape, are repulsed, and again continue to make the
attempt.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 195

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 extremes move towards the middle, not to an ima-
ginary 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, which na-
ture 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 condensed
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 classifica-
tion, as if one were to say, “That bodies desire the preser-
vation, 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 resistance
and connexion), or of extensive wholes (as in the case of
those of the greater congregation, revolution, and abhor-
rence 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 pre-
sent subject.

_For of the motions here laid down some are quite invin-
cible, some more powerful than others, which they confine,
eck, and modify; others extend to a greater distance,
others are more immediate and swift, others strengthen,
increase, and accelerate the rest.

196 . NOVUM ORGANUM.

The motion of resistance is most adamantine and invin-
cible. . We are yet in doubt whether such be the nature of
that of connexion; 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 cer-
tain 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 demon-
strated 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 sixty 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 cer-
tain strength will raise a given weight, and so far the mo-
tion of liberty predominates over that of the greater congre-
gation, 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 predominates 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 discharged, in which case
the motion of greater congregation overcomes 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 predomi-
nate and yield) must be searched for with active and indus-
trious diligence.

The methods and nature of this yielding must also be
diligently examined, as for instance, whether the motions
completely cease or exert themselves but are constrained.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 197

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 predominance 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 pre-
dominance of the motion of connexion. 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 pre-

‘dominance, or there be rather a continued although an in-

visible 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; the motion of connexion, for instance, which relates
to the intercourse of the parts of the universe, is more
powerful than that of gravity, which relates to the inter-
course of dense bodies only. Again, the 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 ! :

49. 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
“i and knowledge in themselves exalt rather than enrich

uman nature. Wemust, therefore, select from the general
store such things as are most useful to mankind. e shall
have a better opportunity of discussing these when we treat
of the application to practice; besides, in the work of inter-
pretation, we leave room, on every subject, for the human
or optative chart; for it is a part of science to make judi-
cious inquiries and wishes.

198 NOVUM ORGANUM.

50. 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 considerable 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 has hitherto been
ascertained, and made use of, will be described in the par-
ticular 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 prin-
cipal 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 pecu-

lar harmonies; 7. By a seasonable and proper alternation,
series, and succession of all these, or at least of some of
them.

I. 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 disturbance. Whatever,
therefore, tends to exclude them, may well be considered
as generally useful. The substance and thickness of ves-
sels 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 consolidation, or the dutum
sapientia as the chymists call it. The exclusion of air by
means of liquids at the extremity is also very useful; 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, honey, pitch, and other resinous
bodies are well used in order 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 sub-
stances capable of being poured round others. Grottes
and subterraneous caves are of great use in keeping off the
effects of the sun, and the predatory action of air, and
in the north of Germany are used for granaries. The de-
positing of bodies at the bottom of water may be also men-
tioned here, and I remember having heard of some bottles

NOVUM ORGANUM. 199

of wine being let down into a deep well in order to cool
them, but left there by chance, carelessness, and forgetful-
ness 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 of 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 con-
tinue his work. We hear that some sort of boat or vessel
has now been invented, capable of carrying men some dis-
tance 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 prevented (of which we have treated), but the spirit of
bodies also is prevented from making its escape, which is
an internal operation. 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 prevents 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 preserving 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 enclosed in any vessel, as not to escape by the smail
pores. Men are led into this idea by the common experi-
ments of a cup inverted over water, with a candle or 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 connexion.

200 NOVUM ORGANUM.

This is, however, most incorrect. For the air is not dimi-
nished 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, therefore, 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.

II. With regard to the second of the seven above men-
tioned methods, we must especially observe, that compres-
sion 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 destroy-
ing the organic body and those qualities which consist en-
tirely 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 quali-
ties 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 homoge-
neous 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 ho-
mogeneous body (such as air, water, oil, and the like) or
their rarefaction, when 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 perse-
verance, and then by means of helps and harmonies, It
might readily have been attempted (if we had but thought

—ane

* Part of the air is expanded and escapes, and part is consumed by the flame.
When condensed, therefore, by the cold application, it cannot offer sufficient
resistance to the external atmosphere to prevent the liquid or flesh from being
forced into the glass.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 201

of 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 di-
mensions as it did before the condensation. If it had not
done so, either immediately, or soon afterwards, the con-
densation would have appeared to have been rendered con-
stant, if not, it would have appeared that a restitution took
place, and that the condensation had been transitory. Some-
thing 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 im-
-mersed, 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 perseverance 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 employed. 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.
III. The third of our seven methods is referred to that
prest practical engine-of nature as well as of art, cold and
eat. 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,* 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

* Heat can now be abstracted by a very simple process, till the degree of
cold be of almost any required intensity.

202 NOVUM ORGANUM.

countries, increased by the reflection of mountains and
walls. For this degree of heat and cold can be borne for
a short period only by animals, yet it is nothing compared
with the heat of a burning furnace, or the corresponding
degree of cold.* Every thing with us has a tendency to
become rarefied, dry, and wasted, and nothing to become
condensed or soft, except by mixtures, and, as it were,
spurious methods. Instances of cold, therefore, should be
searched for most diligently, such as may be found by expos-
ing bodies upon buildings in a hard frost, in subterraneous
caverns, by surrounding 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 of ani-
mals, 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 pro-
vocatives to sleep; the one by calming the motion, the
other by expelling the spirit. The violet, dried roses, let-
tuces, and other benign or mild remedies, by their friendly
and gently cooling vapours, invite the spirits to unite, and

* Tt is impossible to compare a degree of heat with a degree of cold, 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 lie to
support heat or cold as the test, and then the comparison can only be between
the degree of heat or of cold that will produce death.

The zero must be arbitrary which divides equally a certain degree of heat
from a certain degree of cold.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 203

restrain their violent and perturbed motion. Rosewater,
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 applied, therefore, externally, the spirits im-
mediately quit the part and no longer readily flow into it ;
but if they be taken internally, their vapour, mounting to
the head, expels, in all directions, the spirits contained in
the ventricles of the brain, and since these spirits retreat,
but cannot escape, they consequently meet and are con-
densed, and are sometimes completely extinguished and
suffocated ; although the same opiates, when taken in mo-
deration, 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 ob-
tain 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 ascertain whether there may be any
substitutes for cold, that is to say, in what other manner con-
densation 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 previously 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

204 NOVUM ORGANUM.

latent power.. These harmonies are as yet but rarely ob-
served, at which we cannot be surprised, since there is
little to hope for from their investigation, unless the disco-
very of forms and conformation 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 observed, 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 recollect which) —
that drips perpetually, so as to supply the inhabitants, 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 of examination. As to the honey-dew,
resembling manna, which is found in May on the leaves of
the oak, we are of opinion that it is not condensed by an
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.*

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, not-
withstanding 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, therefore, the furnaces, which are
most esteemed, employed in increasing 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 sometimes fixed; the
homogeneous parts are separated, and the heterogeneous
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

* It may often be observed on the leaves of the lime and other trees.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 205

elicited, according to the example of nature, and in imita-
tion of the effect of the sun, 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 specie, perfected in power, and varied in quan-
tity ; to which should be added the acceleration in point of
time. Rust, 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. Chrystal
is formed slowly, whilst glass is blown immediately : stones
increase slowly, whilst bricks are baked immediately, Xc.
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, straightened or overflowing, qua-
lified by the different forms of the furnaces, excited by the
bellows, or quiescent, removed to a greater or less distance,
or passing through different media; moist heats, such as
the balneum Marie, 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 investi-
gation 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 vehement, 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 subterra-
neous beds where metals and fossils are perpetually form-
ing, which renders yet more remarkable the ignorance of
some of the reformed alchymists, who imagined they could
attain their object by the equable heat of lamps, or the like,
burning uniformly. Let this suffice concerning the opera-
tion and effects of heat; nor is it time for us to investigate

206 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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.

IV. 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 observable time, guarded and protected in the mean
while 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 fire 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 incorpora-
tions and mixtures, which are hurried by fire, are very in-
ferior to those obtained by continuance; and the various
conformations assumed by bodies left to themselves, such
as mouldiness, &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, there-
fore, 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 be collected diligently from
every quarter. |

V. The direction of motion (which is the fifth method of
action) 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 are 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 direc-
tion 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,

NOVUM ORGANUM. 207

rashly and ignorantly enough attributes the formation of
animals to this cause, by means of the channels and folds
of the womb. He ought to have observed a similar forma-
tion of the young in eggs which have no wrinkles or in-
equalities. One may observe a real result of this direction
of motion in casting and modelling. :

VI. 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 are for the most part but a
corruption of philosophy. Nor 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 be-
tween 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 sul-
phur and mercury, as it were, pervade the universe; their
reasoning about salt, however, is absurd, and merely intro-
duced 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
between sulphur, oil, greasy exhalations, flame, and, per-
haps, the substance of the stars. On the other hand, there
is a like correspondence between mercury, water, aqueous
vapour, air, and, perhaps, pure inter-sidereal ether. Yet
do these two quaternions, or great natural tribes (each
within its own limits) differ immensely in quantity and
density of substance, whilst they generally agree in con-
formation, as is manifest in many instances. n the other
hand, the metals agree in such quantity and density (espe-
cially 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 con-
formation, but range within very limited degrees of quan-
tity and density of substance.

The next most general correspondence is that between
individual bodies and those which supply them by way of
menstruum or support. Inquiry, therefore, must be made

208 NOVUM ORGANUM.

as to the climate, soil, and depth at which each metal is gene=
rated, 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 alone having hitherto been adopted), by which
means the leaves and fruit are enlarged, and the trees pro-
duce 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 sup-
porting their regimen, although the human will 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 and diligently examined
upon those which are more latent.

The more eternal 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 ab-
sorbent 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 the corn-flower, or the wild
poppy, because the latter seldom grow any where but in
cultivated soils, he ought rather to say there is an enmity
between them, for the poppy and corn-flower are produced
and created by those juices which the corn has left and re-
jected, so that the sowing of the corn prepares the ground

NOVUM ORGANUM. 209

for their production. And there are a vast number of
similar false assertions. As for fables, they must be totally
exterminated. There remains then but a scanty supply of
such species of harmony as has borne the test of experi-
ment, such as that between the magnet and iron, gold and
quicksilver, and the like. In chymical 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 constitutions. Nor
should we omit the harmony between the motion and phe-
nomena of the moon, and their effects on lower bodies,
which may be 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 in-
quired after, through tradition, and faithful and honest
reports, but without rashness and credulity, with an anxious
and, as it were, hesitating degree of reliance. There re-
mains one species of harmony which, though simple in its
mode of action, is yet most valuable in its use, and must by
no means be omitted, but rather diligently investigated. It
is the ready or difficult coition or union of bodies in com-
position or simple juxtaposition. 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.

VII. Lastly, there remains the seventh and last of the
seven modes of action; namely, that by the alternation and in-
terchange 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 sepa-
rate effects, is no less powerful in its operation than difficult
to be traced. But men are possessed with the most ex-
treme impatience, both of such inquiries and their practical
application, although it be the clue of the labyrinth in all
greater works. Thus far of the generally useful instances.

51. The twenty-seventh and last place we will assign to
VOL. XIV. P

210 NOVUM ORGANUM.

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 innume-
rable 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 gunpowder, cannon, and mines. The two
former require an investigation of harmonies, the latter of
a measure of motion. hether there be any mode of
changing bodies per minima (as it is termed), and trans-
ferring 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.
52, Let this suffice as to the respective dignity or prero-
gatives of instances. But it must be noted that in this our
organ, we treat of logic and not of philosophy. Seeing,
however, that our logic instructs and informs the under-
standing, 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 pro-
perties and effects of bodies, 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 in-
terspersed and illustrated with natural observations and
experiments, as instances of our method. The preroga-
tive instances are, as appears from what has preceded,
twenty-seven in number, and are termed, solitary instances,
migrating instances, conspicuous instances, clandestine in-
stances, constitutive instances, similar instances, singular

NOVUM ORGANUM. Sh}

instances, deviating instances, bordering instances, in-
stances of power, accompanying and hostile instances,
subjunctive instances, instances of alliance, instances of the
cross, instances of divorce, instances of the gate, citing in-
stances, instances of the road, supplementary instances,
lancing instances, instances of the rod, instances of the
course, doses of nature, wrestling instances, suggesting in-
stances, generally useful instances, and magical instances.
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, agin the five instances of the
lamp; the understanding, either by expediting the exclu-
sive mode of arriving at the form, as in solitary instances,
or by confining and more immediately indicating the affir-
mative, as in the migrating, conspicuous, accompanying,
and subjunctive instances; or by elevating the understand-
ing and leading it to general and common natures, and that
either immediately, as in the clandestine and singular in-
stances, 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 de-
viating instances ; or by leading to the grand form or fabric
of the universe, as in the bordering instances; or by guard-
ing 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 in-
stances 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
investigation of properties. Such are the similar, singular,
deviating, and bordering instances, those of power, and of
the gate, and suggesting, generally useful, and magical
istances. For these either assist and cure the under-
standing 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 in-
stances, and (as we from the first observed) a few of them

212: NOVUM ORGANUM.

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, how-
ever, proceed to the supports and corrections of induction,
and thence to concretes, the latent process, and latent con-
formations, and the other matters, which we have enume-
rated in their order in the twenty-first aphorism, in order
that, like good and faithful guardians, we may yield up their
fortune to mankind, upon the emancipation and majority
of their understanding ; frem which must necessarily follow
an improvement of their estate, and an increase of their
power over nature. For man, by the fall, lost at once his
state of innocence, and his empire over creation, both of
which can be partially recovered even in this life, the first
by religion and faith, the second by the arts and sciences,
For creation did not become entirely and utterly rebel-
lious 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 1s to say, to supply man’s daily
wants.

END OF THE NOVUM ORGANUM.

A

PREPARATION

FORA

NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY.

A DESCRIPTION

OF SUCH A NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY AS SHALL BE
SUFFICIENT AND SUITABLY ARRANGED FOR FORMING THE
BASIS AND FOUNDATION OF A TRUE PHILOSOPHY.

Ovr motive for publishing our Instauration in parts was
that we might make sure of something. A similar reason
induces us to subjoin, even now, another small portion of
the work, and to publish it with that which has been com-
pleted above. It is a Description and Delineation of such
a Natural and Experimental History, as should be arranged
for the completing our philosophy, and should comprehend
genuine and copious materials, properly adapted to the
work of the interpreter, who is next to make his appearance.
The proper place for this would have been that where we
treat of Preparations in the regular course of our inquiry.
Yet does it appear better to anticipate, rather than wait
for this proper place, since the history which we design, and
will presently describe, is a matter of great magnitude, and
not to be effected without vast labour and expense, requiring
the combined assistance of many, and being (to use our
former expression), as it were, a royal work. It occurred,
therefore, that it might be worth while to see if any others
would undertake it, so that whilst we orderly pursue our
design, this complicated and laborious portion of it may,
by the joint application of others, be set in order and pre-
pared even in our lifetime, should it so please God ; espe-
cially since our own unassisted strength appears scarcely
adequate to so great a sphere. For we may, perhaps, by
our own power overcome all that is the actual work of the
understanding, but the materials on which it is to work are
so scattered, that they should be sought after and imported
from all quarters by factors and merchants. We consider
it, moreover, as scarcely worthy of our undertaking our-
selves to waste time in that which is open to the industry
of almost all. We will, however, perform the principal
part, that of laying down, with diligence and accuracy, a

216

model and sketch of such a history as will satisfy our in-
tention, lest, for want of caution, others should waste their
time, and direct their efforts by the example of such natural
histories as are now in use, thus wandering far from our
proposal. In the mean time that which we have often said
must here be specially repeated, namely, that if all the
talents of every age had concurred, or shall hereafter concur,
if the whole human race had applied, or shall apply itself
to philosophy, and the whole globe had consisted, or shall
consist of academies, and colleges, and schools of the learned,
yet, without such a natural and experimental history as we
shall now recommend, it were impossible that any progress
worthy of mankind should have been, or should hereafter
be made in philosophy and the sciences. But on the other
hand, when it has once been prepared and drawn up, with
the addition of such auxiliary and instructive experiments

as will occur or be searched out in the course of interpre- _

tation, the investigation of nature and of all the sciences
will be a work of many years. This, therefore, must be
done, or the whole work must be abandoned, for by this
method only can the foundation be laid of a genuine and
active philosophy; and men will at once perceive, as if
roused from a profound sleep, what a difference exists be-
tween the dogmatism and fictions of man’s wit, and a
genuine and active philosophy, and what it is to consult
nature herself about nature.

In the first place then we will give general precepts as to
completing such a history, and will then set a particluar
species of it before men’s eyes, alluding occasionally to the
end to which the inquiry must be adapted and referred, as
well as to the subject matter of investigation itself; in
order that the intention being well understood and known
beforehand, it may suggest other points that may have es-
caped us. ‘To this history we are wont to give the name of
First, or Mother History.

APHORISMS

ON THE FORMATION OF THE FIRST HISTORY.

APHORISMS.

1. Nature is placed in three situations, and subject to a
threefold government. For she is either free, and left to
unfold herself in a regular course, or she is driven from her
position by the obstinacy and resistance of matter, and the
violence of obstacles, or she is constrained and moulded by
human art and labour. The first state applies to the spe-
cific nature of bodies; the second to monsters; the third
to artificial productions, in which she submits to the yoke
imposed on her by man, for without the hand of man they
would not have been produced. But from the labour and
contrivance of man an entirely new appearance of bodies
takes its rise, forming, as it were, another universe or the-
atre. Natural history then is threefold, and treats either
of the liberty, the wanderings, or the fetters of nature; so
that we may aptly divide it into the histories of generation,
preter-generation, and arts; the latter of which divisions
we are also wont to call mechanic or experimental. Yet
would we not direct these three to be carried on separately,
for why should not the history of monstrosities in every
species be combined with that of the species itself? So
also artificial subjects may sometimes properly enough be
treated of together with certain natural species, though, at
other times, it is better to separate them. Circumstances,
therefore, must guide us, for too rigid a method admits of
repetitions and prolixity as much as no method.

u1. Natural history being, as we have observed, threefold,
relative to its subject, is twofold in its application. For it
is employed either as a means of arriving at the knowledge
of the matters themselves, which are consigned to it, or as
the elementary material for philosophy, and as the stock or
forest, as it were, from which to furnish forth genuine in-~

218 PREPARATION FOR A NATURAL

duction. The latter is its present application; its present
one, I observe, for it was never before so applied. For
neither Aristotle, nor Theophrastus, nor Dioscorides, nor
Pliny, nor much less the moderns, ever proposed this as
the object of natural history. And the principal point to
be attended to is this, that those who shall henceforth take
charge of natural history, do perpetually reflect, and im-
press upon their minds, that they ought not to be subser-
vient to the pleasure or even benefit which may, at this
present time, be derived from their narrative, but that they
must collect and prepare such and so varied a supply of
things, as may be sufficient for the forming of genuine
axioms. If they thus reflect, they will themselves lay
down their own method for such a history, for the end
governs the means. )

111. But by as much as this is a matter requiring great

pains and labour, by so much the less should it be unneces-
sarily burthened. There are three points then upon which
men should be warned to employ but scanty labour, in as
much as they infinitely increase the bulk of the work, and
add but little or nothing to its value.

cd

First, then, let them dismiss antiquity and quotations, or

the suffrages of authors, all disputes, controversies, and dis-
cordant opinions, and, lastly, all philological disquisitions,
Let no author be quoted except on doubtful points, nor
controversies entered into except on matter of great im-
portance, and as for the ornaments of language, and com-
parisons, and the whole treasury of eloquence, and the
like puerilities, let them be wholly renounced. Nay, let
all which is admitted be propounded briefly and concisely,
so as to be nothing less than words. For no one, who is
preparing and laying by materials for building houses or
ships, or the like, takes the trouble, as they would in shops,
of arranging them elegantly and showing them off to ad-
vantage, but rather attends only to their being strong and
good, and to their taking up as little room as possible in his
warehouse. Let the like be done here.

Secondly, there is not much real use in the lavish abun-
dance of descriptions, painted representations of species, and
collections of their varieties with which natural history is
adorned. These trifling varieties are the mere sport and
wantonness of nature, and approximate to merely individual
characteristics, affording a pleasant digression, but a mean
and superfluous sort of information as regards science.

Thirdly, we must reject all superstitious narratives (I do

AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY. 219

not say prodigious, where faithful and probable accounts
can be obtained, but superstitious), together with the ex-
periments of natural magic. For we would not accustom
philosophy in her infancy, whose very nurse is natural his-
tory, to old wives’ tales. A time may come (after a deeper
investigation of nature) when such matters may be lightly
touched upon, so as to extract and lay up for use such na-
tural knowledge as may lurk in their dregs, but till then
they are to be put aside. In like manner the experiments
of natural magic are to be diligently and rigidly sifted be-
fore their adoption, especially those which are wont to be
derived from vulgar sympathies and antipathies, owing to
the indolence and credulity of both believers and in-
ventors. .

It is no slight matter to have thus relieved natural his-
tory of these three vanities, which might otherwise have
hereafter filled volumes. Nor is this all; for it is as essen-
tial to a great work, that that which is admitted be briefly
described, as that the superfluous should be rejected, al-
though it must be obvious that this chastened and precise
style must afford less pleasure both to the reader and to
the author. But it is ever to be repeated, that the object
is to prepare a mere granary and warehouse, in which no
one is to loiter or dwell for amusement, but only to visit as
occasion may require, when any thing is wanted for the
work of the interpreter, which follows next in order.

1v. One thing, above all others, is requisite for the his-
tory we design; namely, that it be most extensive, and
adapted to the extent of the universe. For the world is not
to be narrowed down to the measure of the understanding
(as has hitherto been done), but the understanding is to be
expanded, and opened for the admission of the actual re-
presentation of the world as it is. The maxim of examin-
ing little and pronouncing on that little has ruined every
thing. Resuming then our late partition of natural his-
tory, into that of generation, preeter-generation, and the
arts, we divide the first into five parts: 1. The history of
the sky and heavenly bodies. 2. Of meteors and the re-
gions (as they are termed) of the air, that is to say, its di-
vision from the moon to the earth’s surface, to which division
we assign every kind of comet either superior or inferior
(however the actual fact may be), for the sake of method.
3. The history of the earth and sea. 4. Of the elements,
as they are called, flame or fire, air, water, and earth ;
considering them, however, under that name, not as the

220 PREPARATION FOR A NATURAL

first principles of things, but as forming the larger masses
of natural bodies. For natural objects are so distributed,
that the quantity or mass of certain bodies throughout the
universe is very great, owing to the easy and obvious ma-
terial texture required for their conformation, whilst the
quantity of others is but small and sparingly supplied, the
material, being of a diversified and subtile nature, having
many specific qualities, and being of an organised construc-
tion, such as the different species of natural objects, namely,
metals, plants, and animals. We are wont, therefore, to
call the former greater ‘colleges, and the latter lesser col-
leges. The fourth part of our history then is of the former,
under the name of elements. Nor is there any confusion
between this and the second or third parts, although we
have spoken of air, water, and earth in each. For in the
second and third they are spoken of as integral parts of the
world, and in relation to the creation and configuration of
the universe ; but in the fourth is contained the history of
their own substance and nature, as displayed in the homo-
geneous parts of each, and not referred to the whole.
Lastly, the fifth part of natural history contains the lesser
colleges or species, upon which alone natural history has
hitherto been chiefly occupied.

As to the history of preeter-generation, we have already
observed that it may, with the greatest convenience, be
combined with that of generation, including that which is
prodigious only, not natural. For we reserve the supersti-
tious history of miracles (such as it may be) for a separate
treatise, nor is it to be undertaken immediately, but rather
later, when more way shall have been made in the inves-
tigation of nature.

We divide the history of the arts, and of nature’s course
diverted and changed by man, or experimental history, into
three parts. For it is derived either: 1. from the me-
chanical arts ; or, 2. from the practical part of the liberal
sciences ; or, 3. from various practical applications and ex-
periments, which have not yet been classed as a peculiar
art, nay, sometimes occur in every day’s experience and
require no such art. If, then, a history be completed of all
these which we have mentioned, namely, generation, pre-
ter-generation, the arts and experiments, nothing appears
omitted for preparing the senses to inform the understand-
ing, and we shall no longer dance, as it were, within the
narrow circles of the enchanter, but extend our march round
the confines of the world itself.

AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY. yr Fo

v, Of those parts into which we have divided natural
history, that of the arts is the most useful, since it exhibits
bodies in motion, and leads more directly to practice. Be-
sides this, it lifts the mask and veil, as it were, from
natural objects, which are generally concealed or obscured
under a diversity of forms and external appearance. Again,
the attacks of art are assuredly the very fetters and miracles
of Proteus, which betray the last struggle and efforts of
nature. For bodies resist destruction or annihilation, and
rather transform themselves into various shapes. The great-
est diligence, therefore, is to be bestowed upon this history,
however mechanical and illiberal it may appear, laying aside
all fastidious arrogance. 7

Again, amongst the arts those are preferable which con-
trol, alter, and prepare natural bodies, and the materials of
objects, such as agriculture, cookery, chymistry, dyeing,
manufactures of glass, enamel, sugar, gunpowder, fire-
works, paper, and the like. There is less use tobe derived
from those which chiefly consist in a delicate motion of
the hands, or of tools, such as weaving, carpentry, archi-
tecture, mill and clock work, and the like; although the
latter are by no means to be neglected, both on account of
their frequently presenting circumstances tending to the
alteration of natural bodies, and also on account of the
accurate information they afford of translatitious motion,
a point of the greatest importance in many inquiries.

One thing, however, is to be observed and well remem-
bered in this whole collection of arts, namely, to admit not
only those experiments which conduce to the direct object
of the art, but also those which indirectly occur. For in-
stance, the changing of the lobster or a crab when cooked
from a dark to a red colour has nothing to do with cookery,
yet this instance is not a bad one in investigating the nature
of redness, since the same thing occurs in baked bricks.
So, again, the circumstance of meat requiring less time for
salting in winter than in summer is not only useful infor-
mation to the cook for preparing his meat, but is also a
good instance to point out the nature and effect of cold.
He therefore will be wonderfully mistaken, who shall think
that he has satisfied our object when he has collected these
experiments of the arts for the sole purpose of improving
each art in particular. For although we do not by any
means despise even this, yet our firm intention is to cause
the streams of every species of mechanical experiment to
flow from all quarters into the ocean of philosophy. The

232 PREPARATION FOR A NATURAL

choice of the most important instances in each (such as
should be most abundantly and diligently searched and, as
it were, hunted out) must be governed by the prerogative
instances.

vi. We must here allude to that which we have treated
more at length in the ninety-ninth, one hundred and nine-
teenth, and one hundred and twentieth aphorisms of the first
book, and need now only briefly urge as a precept, namely,
that there be admitted into this history, ]. the most common
matters, such as one might think it superfluous to insert
from their being so well known ; 2. base, illiberal, and filthy
matters (for to the pure every thing is pure, and if money
derived from urine be of good odour, much more so is know-
ledge and information from any quarter), and also those
which are trifling and puerile; lastly, such matters as ap-
pear too minute, as being of themselves of no use. For (as
has been observed) the subjects to be treated of in this
history are not compiled on their own account, nor ought
their worth, therefore, to be measured by their intrinsic
value, but by their application to other points, and their
influence on philosophy. 3

vir. We moreover recommend that all natural bodies
and qualities be, as far as is possible, reduced to number,
weight, measure, and precise definition ; for we are plan-
ning actual results and not mere theory ; and it is a proper
combination of physics and mathematics that generates
practice. The exact return and distances of the planets,
therefore, in the history of the heavens, the circumference
of the earth, and the extent of its surface compared with
that of water, in the history of the earth and sea, the quan-
tity of compression which the air will suffer without any
powerful resistance in the history of air, the quantity by
which one metal exceeds another in weight, in that of
metals, and a number of like points are to be thoroughly
investigated and detailed. When, however, the exact pro-
portions cannot be obtained, recourse must be had to those
which are estimated or comparative. Thus, if we distrust
the calculations of astronomers as to distances, it may be
stated that the moon is within the shadow of the earth, and
Mercury above the moon, &c. If mean proportions cannot
be had, let extremes be taken, as that the feeblest magnet
can raise iron of such a weight compared with its own,
and the most powerful sixty times as much as its own
weight, which I have myself observed in a very small armed
magnet. For we know very well that determinate instances

AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY. 223

do not readily or often occur, but must be sought after as
auxiliary, when chiefly wanted, in the very course of inter-
pretation. If, however, they casually occur, they should be
inserted in natural history, provided they do not too much
retard its progress.

vit. With regard to the credit due to the matters ad-
mitted into our history, they must either be certain, doubt-
ful, or absolutely false. The first are to be simply stated,
the second to be noted with a “ report states,” or “ the
say,” or “ I have heard from a person worthy of credit,” and
the like. For it would be too laborious to enter into the argu-
ments on both sides, and would too much retard the author,
nor is it of much consequence towards our present object,
since (as we have observed in the hundred and eighteenth
aphorism of the first book) the correctness of the axioms
will soon discover the errors of experiment, unless they be
very general. If, however, there be any instance of greater
importance than the rest, either from its use, or the conse-
quences dependent upon it, then the author should cer-
tainly be named, and not barely named, but some notice
should be taken as to whether he merely heard or copied it
(as is generally the case with Pliny), or rather affirmed it
of his own knowledge, and also whether it were a matter
within his own time or before it, or whether such as if true
must necessarily have been witnessed by many; or, lastly,
whether the author were vain and trifling, or steady and
accurate, and the like points, which give weight to testi-
mony. Lastly, those matters which are false, and yet have
been much repeated and discussed, such as have gained
ground by the lapse of ages, partly owing to neglect, partly
to their being used as poetical comparisons, for instance,
that the diamond overpowers the magnet, that garlick
enervates, that amber attracts every thing but the herb
basil, &c. &c. all these ought not to be silently rejected, but
expressly proscribed, that they may never trouble science
more.

It will not, however, be improper to notice the origin of
any fable or absurdity, if it should be traced in the course
of inquiry, such as the venereal qualities attributed to the
herb satyrium from its roots bearing some resemblance to
the testicles. The real cause of this formation being the
growth of a fresh bulbous root every year, which adheres
to that of the preceding year, and produces the twin roots,
as is proved by the firm juicy appearance which the new
root always presents, whilst the old one is withered and

224 PREPARATION FOR A NATURAL

spungy. This last circumstance renders it a matter not

worthy of much wonder, that the one root should always
sink and the other swim, though this too has been consi- —

dered marvellous, and has added weight to the reputed
virtues of the plant.

1x. There now remain certain useful accessories to natural

history, for the purpose of bending and adapting it more

readily to the labour of the interpreter which is to follow. —

They are five in number.

In the first place queries are to be subjoined (not of |

causes but of facts), in order to challenge and court further
inquiry. As, for instance, in the history of the earth and

sea, whether the Caspian has any tide and the period of .

it? whether there is any southern continent or only islands?
and the like.

Secondly, in relating any new and delicate experiment, |

the method adopted in making it should be added, in order
to allow free scope to the reader’s judgment upon the
soundness or fallacy of the information derived from it, and
also to spur on men’s industry in searching for more accu-
rate methods, if such there be. |

Thirdly, if there be any particle of doubt or hesitation
as to the matter related, we would by no means have it
suppressed or passed over, but it should be plainly and
clearly set out, by way of note or warning. For we would

have our first history written with the most religious par-_

ticularity, and as though upon oath as to the truth of
every syllable, for it is a volume of God’s works, and (as
far as the majesty of things divine can brook comparison
with the lowliness of earthly objects) is, as it were, a second
scripture.

Fourthly, it will be proper to intersperse some observa-
tions, as Pliny has done. Thus, in the history of the earth
and sea, we may observe, that the figure of the earth (as
far as it is known to us), when compared with that of the
sea, is narrow and pointed towards the south, broad and
expanded towards the north, the contrary to that of the
sea: and that vast oceans divide the continents with chan-
nels extended from north to south, not from east to west,
except perhaps near the poles. Canons also (which are
only general and universal observations) are very properly
introduced ; as in the history of the heavens, that Venus is
never more than forty-six degrees distant from the sun, nor
Mercury more than twenty-three; and that the plan ets, which
are placed above the sun, move most slowly when farthest

AND EXPERIMENTAL IIISTORY.- 995

from the earth, those beneath the sun most quickly. Another
kind of observation also is to be adopted, which has not
hitherto been introduced, although of no small importance;
namely, that to a list of things which exist, should be sub-
joined one of those which do not exist, as in the history of
the heavens, that no oblong or triangular star has been dis-
covered, but all are globular, either simply, as the moon, or
angular to the sight, but globular in the centre, as the other
stars; or bearded to the sight, and globular in the centre,
as the sun: or that the stars are not arranged in any
order, that there is no quincunx, square, or other perfect
figure (notwithstanding the names of the delta, crown,
cross, wain, &c.), scarcely in a right line, excepting, per-
haps, the belt and sword of Orion.

Fifthly, it will, perhaps, assist the inquirer, though perni-
cious and destructive to the believer, to review all received
opinions, their varieties and sects, briefly and currently
as he proceeds, just to waken the intellect, and nothing
further. . :

x. These will form a sufficient store of general precepts ;
and if they be diligently adhered to, he labour of this
our history will both be directed immediately to its ob-
ject and confined within proper limits. But if, even thus
circumscribed and limited, it may perhaps appear vast to the
feeble-minded, let him cast his eyes upon our libraries, and
observe the codes of civil and canon law on the one hand,
and the commentaries of doctors and practitioners on the
other, and see what a difference there is in the bulk and
number of volumes. For we, who as faithful scribes, do
but receive and copy the very laws of nature, not only can,
but must by necessity be brief; but opinions, dogmatism,
and theory, are innumerable and endless.

In the distribution of our work we made mention of the
cardinal virtues of nature, and observed that a history of
them must be completed before we come to the work of
interpretation. This we have by no means forgotten, but
we reserve it to ourselves, not daring to augur much from
the industry of others in the attempt, until men have begun
to be a little more acquainted with nature. We next pro-
ceed, therefore, to the designation of particular histories.

_ Pressed, however, by business, we have only leisure sufli-
cient to subjoin a catalogue of particular histories, arranged
under their proper heads. As soon as time permits, it is our
intention to instruct, as it were, by interrogation in each,

VOL. XIV. Q

226 NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY.

namely, as to the points to be investigated and committed
to writing in every history, on account of their conducing
to the end in view, and forming particular topics, or rather
(to borrow a metaphor from the civilians) in this great
action or cause, which has been conceded and instituted

by special favour and divine providence, and by which man- |

kind are contending for the recovery of their dominion
over nature, let us examine nature and the arts themselves
upon interrogatives. |

A

CATALOGUE OF PARTICULAR HISTORIES,
ARRANGED UNDER HEADS,

——_—_——___—__

1. A History of the Heavenly Bodies; or, an Astronomical
History. }

2. A History of the Configuration of Heaven and its parts
as it lies towards the Earth and its parts; or, a Cosmo-
graphical History.

3. A History of Comets.

4. A History of Igneous Meteors.

5. A History of Thunderbolts, Flashes of Lightning, Thun-
ders, and Coruscations.

6. A History of Winds, Sudden Blasts, and Undulations of
the Air.

7. A History of Rambows.

8. A History of Clouds as they are seen in the Air above.

9. A History of the Azure Expanse, of Twilight, of two or
more Suns or Moons visible at once, of Halos, of the dif-
ferent Colours of the Sun and Moon, and of all that di-
versity of the Heavenly Bodies to the eye which results
from the medium of vision.

10. A History of Rains, common, tempestuous, and extra-
ordinary ; also of Cataracts of Heaven, as they are called,
and the like.

11. A History of Hail, Snow, Ice, Hoar-frost, Fog, Dew,
and the like.

12. A History of all other Substances which fall or are
Eo reiee from on high, and are generated in upper

ir,

13. A History of Noises heard on high, if there be any,
besides ‘Thunder.

14. A History of the Air as a whole, or relatively to the
Structure of the World.

15. A History of Weathers or of the State of Temperature
throughout the Year, with reference to variety of clime,
and the Accidents of particular Seasons and the periods of
the Year; of Floods, Heats, Droughts, and the like.

228 A CATALOGUE OF

16. A History of the Earth and Sea, of their Figure and
Outline, their Configuration relatively to one another,
the manner in which they stretch into one another in
broad Tracts or narrow Indentations, the History of the
Islands in the Sea, of the Bays of the Sea, of salt inland
Lakes, of Isthmuses, and Promontories.

17, The History of the Motions, if there be such, of the
Globe of Earth and Sea, and from what~- Experiments
they may be inferred.

18. The History of the greater Motions and Agitations of
the Earth and Sea, that is of Earthquakes, Tremblings
of the Earth, and Chasms; of new Islands, of floating
Islands, of Divulsions of the parts of the Land by inroads
of the Sea, of its Encroachments and Influxes, and on
the other hand, its Recessions; of the Eruption of Fires
from the Earth, of sudden Eruptions of Water from the
Earth, and the like.

19. A Geographical Natural History, of Mountains, Val-

-leys, Woods, Plains, Sands, Marshes, Lakes, Rivers,
Torrents, Fountains, and all their diversities of irriga-
tion, and the like: Leaving out of view Nations, Pro-
vinces, Cities, and other parts of Civil Society.

20. A History of the Ebbs and Flows of the Sea, of Undu-

-lations, and other Motions of the Sea.

21. A History of the other Accidents of the Sea, its Salt=_

ness, diversity of Colours, Depth, of Submarine Rocks,
Mountains and Valleys, and the like.

The following are Histories of the Larger Masses in Nature.

22. A History of Flame and Ignited Bodies.

23. A History of the Air in its Substance, not its Configu-
ration.

24. A History of Water in its Substance, not its Configu-
ration.

25. A History of the Earth, and its Varieties in its Sub-
stance, not its Configuration.

The following are Histories of Species.

26. A History of the perfect Metals, of Gold, Silver; of
Mines, Veins, and Marcasites of the same, also the Chy-
mical Actions of Minerals in their natural state.

27 The History of Quicksilver.

28. A History of Fossils; as Vitriol, Sulphur, &c.

29. A History of Gems; as the Diamond, Ruby, &c.

PARTICULAR HISTORIES. 229

30. A History of Stones; as Marble, Gold-Touchstone,
Flint, &e. nee |

31. A History of the Magnet.

32. A History of Miscellaneous Substances, which are
neither wholly fossil nor vegetable; as Salts, Amber,
Ambergris, &c. | :

33. A Chymical History pie: Metals and Minerals.

34. A History of Plants, Trees, Fruits, Grapes, and their
Parts, the Roots, Stalks, Wood, Leaves, Flowers, Fruits,
Seeds, Tears, or Exudations, &c. ave

35. A Chymical History regarding Vegetables.

36. A History of Fishes, and their Parts and Generation.

37. A History of Volant Creatures, their Parts and Gene-
ration.

38. A History of Quadrupeds, their Parts and Generation.

39. A History of Reptiles, Worms, Flies, and other Insects,
and of their Parts and Generation.

40. A Chymical History of those Substances which are
extracted from Animals. |

The following are Histories of Man.

41. A History of the Figure and external Members of Man ;
his Stature, the Knitting of his Frame, his Countenance
and Features; and the varieties of these according to
Nation and Climate, or any minute Diversities.

42. A History of Physiognomy derived from the former.

43. A History Anatomical, or of the Internal Members of
Man, and their variety so far as it is found in the natural
Cohesion and Structure of the Parts, and not merely with
reference to diseases and preternatural accidents.

44. A History. of the Homogeneous Parts of Man; as of
Flesh, Bones, Membranes, &c. |
45. A History of the Humours in Man; as Blood, Bile,
Semen, &c. |
46. A History of Excrements, Spittle, Urine, Sweats, Feces,
oN Hair of the Head, and Hair generally, Nails, and the

ike.

47. The History of the Faculties of Attraction, Digestion,
Retention, Expulsion; the Formation of the Blood; the
Assimilation of Nourishment to the Frame, the Con-
version of the Blood and the Flower of it into Spirits,
&e. | 3

48. A History of Natural and Involuntary Motions; as the
Motions of the Heart, the Motions of the Pulse, Sneez-
ing, the Motions of the Lungs, Priapism.

230 A CATALOGUE OF

49. A History of Motion of a mixed nature, between na-
tural and voluntary: Respiration, Coughing, Making
Water, Stool, &c. )

50. A History of Voluntary Motions; as of the Organs of
Articulation or Speaking, the Motions of the Eyes,
Tongue, Jaws, Hands, Fingers, of Swallowing, &c.

51. A History of Sleep and Dreams.

52. A History of different Habits of Body, of fat and
lean, of complexions (as they are called), &c.

53. A History of the Generation of Man.

54. A History of Conception, Quickening, Gestation in

_ Utero, Birth, &c.

55. A History of the Nourishment of Man, of all Esculents
and Potables, and of all Diet, and its Varieties according
to nations, or minor differences.

56. A History of the Augmentation and Growth of the
Body, in the whole or in its parts.

57. A History of the Course of Life: of Infancy, Boyhood,
Manhood, Old Age; of Longevity, Shortness of Life, and
the like, according to nations, or minor differences.

58, A History of Life and Death.

we A Medical History of Diseases; their Symptoms and

igns,

60, A Medical History of the Cure, Remedies of, and Li-
berations from, Diseases.

61, A Medical History of those things which preserve the
Body and Health,

62, A Medical History of those things which belong to
the Form and Beauty of the Body, &c.

63. A Medical History of those things which alter the
Body, and belong to Alterative Regimen.

64, A History of Drugs,

65. A Chirurgical History. . +

66, A Chymical History, with Reference to Medicines.

67. A History of Light and Visible Objects, or Optical.

68. A History of Painting, Sculpture, Casts, &c.

69. A History of Hearing and Sounds,

70. A History of Music.

71, A History of Smell and Odours,

72. A History of Taste and Savours.

73. A History of Touch, and its Objects.

74, A History of Venery, as a Species of Touch.

75. A History of Bodily Pains, as a Species of Touch.

76. A History of Pleasure and Pain in general. :

77. A History-of the Passions; as Anger, Love, Shame,
Xe,

8 A Edler ne cities

PARTICULAR HISTORIES. 93 |

78. A History of the Intellectual Faculties ; the Cogitative
Faculty, Fancy, Reason, Memory, &c.

79, A History of Natural Divination.

80. A History of Discernments; or, Discriminations of
Occult Qualities.

81. A History of Cookery, and the Arts subservient to it;
of the Shambles, of Aviaries, &c.

82. A History of Baking, and the Preparation of Bread,
and the subservient Arts, as grinding Meal.

83. A History of Wines.

84. A History of the Cellar, and different Kinds of Drinks.

85. A History of Sweetmeats and Confections, —

86. A History of Honey.

87. A History of Sugar.

88. A History of Milkmeats.

89. A History of the Bath and Unguents.

90. A Miscellaneous History of the Care of the Person;
Shaving, Perfuming, &c.

91. A History of Working in Gold, and the Arts subser-
vient to it.

92. A History of the Preparation of Wool, and the Arts
subservient to it.

93. A History of Manufactures of Silk and Satin, and the
Arts subservient to them.

94. A History of Manufactures of Linen, Canvass, Cotton,
Hair, and other thready Substances, and of the Arts sub-
servient to them. :

95. A History of the Preparation of Feathers.

96. A History of Weaving, and the Arts subservient to it.

97. A History of Dyeing.

98. A History of Leather and Tanning, and the Arts sub-
servient to it.

99. A History of Mattrasses and Feather Beds.

100. A History of Working in Iron.

101. A History of the Lapidary Art ; or of Stone-cutting.

102. A History of Bricks and Tiles.

103. A History of Pottery.

104. A History of Cements and Incrustations.

105. A History of Working in Wood.

106. A History of Lead.

107. A History of Glass and all Vitreous substances, and
of the Manufacture of Glass.

108. A History of Architecture in general.

109. A History of Waggons, Cars, Litters, &c.

110. A Typographical History of Books, Writings, Seals,
Ink, Pens, Paper, Parchment, &c.

phy! CATALOGUE OF PARTICULAR HISTORIES.

Ill. A History of Wax.
1J2. A History of Osiers.

113. A History of Carpeting, and Manufactures of Straw, |

Rushes, and the like.

114. A History of Washing, Brushing, &c.

115, A History of Farming, Pasturage, the Managing. of
Wood, &c.

116. A History of Gardens.

117. A History of Fishing.

118. A History of Hunting and Fowling.

119. A History of the Art of War, and the Arts subser-
vient to it, as the Manufacture of Arms, Bows, Arrows,
Muskets, Projectile Engines, Balistee, Machines, &c.

120. A History of the Nautical Art, and the Trades and
Arts subservient to it.

12]. A History of Gymnastics, and of all Kinds of Exercise
used by Man.

122. A History of Riding.

123. A History of Games of all kinds.

124. A History of Conjurors and Slight of Hand Men.

125. A Miscellaneous History of different Artificial Sub-
stances, as Smalt, Porcelain, various Cements, &c.

126. A History of Salts. |

127. A Miscellaneous History of different Machines and
Motions.

128. A Miscellaneous History of Common Experiments,
which have not yet united into an Art.

Histories also of pure Mathematics ought to be written,
although they be rather Observations than Experiments.

129. A History of the Natures and Powers of Numbers.
130. A History of the Natures and Powers of Figures.

It may not be useless to suggest that, as many of the ex-
periments fall under two or more heads (thus the History of
Plants and of the Art of Gardening contains many things
common to both), it will be more convenient to regulate
the inquisition by the Arts, the arrangement by the Bodies.
For we pay no great attention to the mechanical arts as
such, but only to those of them which contribute to furnish
forth philosophy. But these matters will be best disposed
of as the cases arise.

CT ae ae

THIRD PART

OF THE INSTAURATIO.

A

NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL
HES LO hy,

TO SERVE AS A

FOUNDATION FOR PHILOSOPHY :

OR

PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE,

BEING THE

THIRD PART OF THE INSTAURATIO MAGNA.

BY FRANCIS BACON,

BARON OF VERULAM, VISCOUNT ST. ALBANS.

LONDON:

PRINTED BY EDWARD GRIFFIN ;
SOLD AT THE KING’S ARMS IN ST. PAUL’S CHURCHYARD,
BY RICHARD WHITAKER.

1638.

TO

THE MOST ILLUSTRIOUS AND EXCELLENT PRINCE

CHARLES,

SON AND HEIR TO THE HIGH AND MIGHTY KING JAMES.

I HUMBLY present unto your highness the first fruits of
our Natural History; a thing exceeding little in quantity, —

like a grain of mustard seed, but yet a pledge of those things

which, God willing, shall ensue. For we have bound our-_

selves, as by a vow, every month that God shall of his
goodness please (whose glory it sets forth as it were ina
new canticle or song) to prolong our life, to set out one or
more parts of it, according as their length and difficulty
shall prove more or less. Others may peradventure (moved
by our example) be moved to the like industry ; especially
when they shall clearly perceive what is in hand. For in
a natural history which is good and well set out, are the

keys both of sciences and works. God preserve your high- |

ness long in safety,
Your Highness’s humble and devoted Servant,

FRAN. St. ALBAN.

THE TITLES OF THE HISTORIES AND INQUISITIONS
DESTINED FOR THE FIRST SIX MONTHS.

The History of Winds.

The History of Density and Rarity, as likewise of Coition
and Expansion of Matter by Spaces.

The History of Heavy and Light.

The History of the Sympathy and Antipathy of Things.

The History of Sulphur, Mercury, and Salt.

The History of Life and Death.

THE

NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY
FOR THE MAKING UP OF PHILOSOPHY :
OR, EXPERIMENTS OF THE UNIVERSE: WHICH IS THE THIRD

PART OF THE INSTAURATIO MAGNA.

MEN are to be intreated, advised, and adjured, even by
their fortunes, to submit their minds and seek for know-
ledge in the greater world; and likewise to cast away so
much as the thought of philosophy, or at least to hope but
for slender and small fruits thereof, until a diligent and ap-
proved natural and experimental history be acquired and
made up. For what would these shallow brains of men,
and these potent trifles have? There were among the

ancientsnumerous opinions of philosophers, as of Pythago-—

ras, Philolaus, Xenophanes, Heraclitus, Empedocles, Parme-
nides, Anaxagoras, Leucippus, Democritus, Plato, Aris-
totle, Theophrastus, Zeno, and others. All these made up
arguments of worlds, as of fables, according to their own
fancies, and recited and published those fables ; whereof
some indeed were more handsome and probable, and some
again most harsh. But in our ages, by means of colleges
and schools’ disciplines, wits are somewhat more restrained ;
yet have they not quite ceased: Patricius, Telesius, Brunus,
Severine the Dane, Gilbertus an Englishman, and Cam-
panella did set foot upon the stage, and acted new fables,
neither much applauded, nor of any elegant argument or
subject. But do we wonder at these things? as though
such sects and opinions might not in an infinite number
arise in all ages? For neither is there, nor ever will be any
end or limit for these things. One snatches at one thing,
another is pleased with another; there is no dry nor clear

sight of any thing, every one plays the philosopher out of |
the small treasures of his own fancy, as it were out of |

Plato’s cave; the more sublime wits more acutely, and
with better success; the duller with less success but equal
obstinacy: and not long since by the discipline of some
learned (and as things go now excellent) men, sciences are
bounded within the limits of some certain authors which

NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY. 2037

they have set down, imposing them upon old men, and
instilling them into young. So that now (as Tully cavilled
upon Cesar’s consulship) the star Lyra or Harpe riseth by
an edict, and authority is taken for truth, not truth for
authority ; which kind of order and discipline is very con-
venient for our present use, but banisheth those which are
better. For we both suffer for and emulate our first parents
sin; they desired to be like unto God, and their posterity
much more: for we create new worlds, go before nature and
command it. We must have all things to be so as may
agree with our folly, not to divine wisdom, nor as they are
found to be in themselves; neither can I say which we rest
most, our wits or the things themselves: but certainly we
set the stamps and seals of our own images upon God’s
creatures and works, and never carefully look upon and
acknowledge the Creator’s stamps. Therefore we do not
without cause again strive for the domination over the
creatures. For, whereas, even after the fall of man, he had
some kind of domination left him over reluctant creatures,
that he might tame and subdue them by true and solid arts ;
we have for the most part lost that also through our own
insolence, because we will be like unto God, and follow the |
dictates of our own reason. Wherefore, if there be any hu-
mility towards the Creator, any reverence and magnifying
of his works, any charity in men, or care to release them
out of their necessities and miseries, if there be any love of
truth in natural things, hatred of darkness, and a desire of
purifying the understanding, men are to be again and again
desired that casting off, or at least laying aside for a while
these flying and preposterous philosophies, which have set
the theses before the hypotheses, or suppositions before
solid grounds, have captivated experience, and triumphed
over the works of God, they would humbly and with a
certain reverence draw near and turn over the great volume
of the creatures, stop and meditate upon it; and, being
cleansed and free from opinions, handle them choicely and
entirely. This is the speech and language that went out
into all the ends of the world, and suffered not in the con-
fusion of Babel. Let men learn this, and becoming chil-
dren again and infants, not scorn to take A B C thereof in
hand, and in finding and searching out the interpretation
of it, let them spare no labour, but let them persist and go
on, and even die in the quest of it. Seeing, therefore, that
im our Instauration we have placed the Natural History
(such as it is in order to our ends) in the third part of the
work, we have thought fit to prevent this thing, and fall

238 NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY.

upon it immediately. For although in our Organon there
are many things of especial consequence to be finished, yet
we think it fitting rather to promote or set forward the
general work of Instauration in many things, than to perfect
it in a few, always desiring with extreme fervency (such as
we are confident God puts in the minds of men) to have
that which was never yet attempted, not to be now at-
tempted in vain. Likewise there came this thought into
my mind, namely, that there are questionless in Europe
many capable, free, sublimed, subtile, solid, constant wits;

and what if any one endued with such a wit do betake

himself to the use and manner of our Organon, and approve
of it? yet hath he nothing to do nor knows not how to

address himself to, or fit himself for philosophy. If it

were a thing which might be effected by reading of philo-

sophy books, disputation, or meditation, that man (whoso-
ever it be) might sufficiently and abundantly perform it ; but
if we remit him, as indeed we do, to natural history, and
experiments of arts, he is gravelled or sticks in the mire;
it is not his intention, he hath no time, nor will not be at
the charge: yet we must not desire to have men cast off
old things betore they have gotten new. But after a copious
and faithful history of nature and arts is gathered and di-
gested, and as it were set and laid open before men’s eyes,
there is no small hope that such great wits as we have
before spoken of (such as have been in ancient philosophers,
and are at this day frequent enough) having been hereto-
fore of such efficacy, that they could out of cork or a little
shell (namely by thin and frivolous experience) build cer-
tain little boats for philosophy, gallant enough for art and
structure, how much more gallant and solid structures will
_ they make, when they have found a whole wood, and stuff

enough ; and that, though they had rather go on in the old
way, than make use of our Organon’s way, which (in our -

opinion) is either the only, or the best way. So that the
case stands thus: our Organon (though perfect) could not
profit much without the Natural History; but our Natural

History without the Organon might much advance in-_

stauration, or renewing of sciences. Wherefore we have |

thought it best and most advisedly to fall upon this before
any thing else. God the maker, preserver, and renewer of

1
}
|

the universe, guide and protect this work, both in its ascent |

through his goodwill towards man, by his only begotten
Son God with us.

{

to his own glory, and in its descent to the good of man, |

THE RULE OF THIS PRESENT HISTORY.

Tuovucu we have set down towards the end of that part of
our Organon which is come forth precepts concerning the
Natural and Experimental History, yet we have thought
good to set down more exactly and briefly the form and
rule of this history which we now take in hand. To the
titles comprehended in the catalogue, which belong to the
concretes, we have added the titles of the abstract natures ;
of which, as of a reserved history, we made mention in the
same place. These are the various figurations of the matter,
or forms of the first class ; simple motions, sums of motions,
measures of motions, and some other things: of these we
have made a new alphabet, and placed it at the end of this
volume. We have taken titles (being no way able to take
them all) not according to order, but by choice; those,
namely, the inquisition of which either for use was most of
weight, or for abundance of experiments most convenient,
or for the obscurity of the thing most difficult and noble, or
by reason of the discrepancy of titles among themselves,
most open to examples. In each title, after a kind of an
entrance or preface, we presently propound certain particu-
lar topics or articles of inquisition, as well to give light to
the present inquisition, as to encourage a future. For we
are master of questions, but not of things; yet we do not
in the history precisely observe the order of questions,
lest that which is for an aid and assistance should prove
a hinderance.

The histories and experiments always hold the first place ;
and if they set forth any enumeration and series of parti-
cular things, they are made up in tables, or if otherwise,
they are taken up severally.

Seeing that histories and experiments do oftentimes fail
us, especially those which give light, and instances of the
cross, by which the understanding may be informed of the
true causes of things, we give precepts of new experiments,
as far as we can see them fitting in our mind, for that as is to
be inquired ; and these precepts are designed like histories.

240 ’ RULE OF THIS PRESENT HISTORY.

For what other means is left to us, who are the first that
come into this way? We unfold and make plain the man-
ner of some experiments that are more quaint and subtile,
that there may be no error, and that we may stir up others
to find out better and more exact ways. We interweave
monitions and cautions of the fallacies of things, and of
such errors and scruples as may be found in the inquiry,
that all fancies, and as it were apparitions, may be frighted
away, as by an exorcism or spell.

We join thereunto our observations upon history and
experiments, that the interpretation of the nature may be
the readier.

We interpose some comments, or as it were rudiments of
the interpretations of causes, sparingly, and rather suppos-
ing what may be, than positively defining what is.

We prescribe and set down rules, but movable ones, and
as it were inchoated axioms which offer themselves unto us
as we inquire, not as we decisorily pronounce, for they are
profitable though not altogether true.

Never forgetting the profit of mankind (though the light
be more worthy than those things which be shown by it),
we offer to man’s attention and practice certain essays of

Bee knowing that men’s stupidity is such, and so un-—

appy, that sometimes they see not and pass over things
which lie just in their way.

We set down works and things impossible, or at least
which are not yet found out, as they fall under each title;
and withal those which are already found out, and are in
men’s power; and we add to those impossible, and not yet
found out things, such as are next to them, and have most
affinity with them, that we may stir up and withal encou-
rage human industry. 3

It appears by the aforesaid things that this present his-
tory doth not only supply the place of the third part of the
instauration, but also is a not despicable preparation to the
fourth, by reason of the titles out of the alphabet and
topics, and to the sixth, by reason of the larger observations,
commentations, and rules.

THE

ENTRY INTO THE HISTORY OF WINDS.

THE winds gave wings to men; for by their assistance men
are carried up through the air and fly; not through the air
indeed, but upon the sea; and a wide door is laid open to
commerce, and the world is made pervious. They are the
besoms which sweep and make clean the earth, which is
the seat and habitation of mankind, and they cleanse both
it and the air; but they make the sea hurtful, which other-
wise is harmless, neither are they some other ways also free
from doing hurt. They are, without help of man, able to
stir up great and vehement motions, and like hirelings, serve
both to sail and grind, and would be useful for many other
things, if human care were not wanting. Their natures are
reckoned amongst secret and hidden things. Neither is that
to be wondered at, seeing the nature and power of the air is
unknown, whom the winds do serve and flatter, as Eolus
doth Juno in.the Poets. They are not primary creatures,
nor any of the six days’ works, no more than the rest of the
meteors actually, but afterborn, by the order of the Crea-
tion.

VOL. XIV. R

PARTICULAR TOPICS; ©

OR,

ARTICLES OF INQUISITION CONCERNING THE WINDS.

The names of winds.
DeEscriBE or set down the winds according to the seaman’s

industry; and give them names either new or old, so that

you keep yourself constant to them. :

Winds are either general or precise, either peculiar or
free. I call them general which always blow; precise,
those which blow at certain times; attendants or peculiar,

those which blow most commonly ; free winds, those which

blow indifferently or at any time.
General winds.

2. Whether there be any general winds, which are the
very self motion of the air; and if there be any such, in
order to what motion, and in what places they blow ?

Precise or fixed winds.
3. What winds are anniversary or yearly winds, return-

ing by turns; and in what countries? Whether there be

any wind so precisely fixed, that it returns regularly at cer-
tain days and hours, like unto the flowing of the sea ?
Attending or peculiar winds.

4, What winds are peculiar and ordinary in countries,
which observe a certain time in the same countries; which
are spring winds, and which are summer winds; which
autumnal, which brumal, which equinoctial, which solsti-
tial; which are belonging to the morning, which to noon,
which to the evening, and which to the night.

5. What winds are sea winds, and what winds blow from
the continent? and mark and set down the differences of
the sea and land winds carefully, as well of those which
blow at land and sea, as of those which blow from land and

sea.
Free winds.

6. Whether winds do not blow from all parts of heaven?
Winds do not vary much more in the parts of heaven
from which they blow, than in their own qualities. Some

NATURAL HISTORY OF WINDS. 243

are vehement, some mild, some constant, some mutable;
some hot, some cold, some moistening and dissolving ; somé
drying and astringent; some gather clouds and are rainy,
and peradventure stormy; some disperse the clouds, and
are clear.

Divers qualities of winds.

7. Inquire and give account, which are the winds of all
the forenamed sorts or kinds, and how they vary according
to the regions and places.

There are three local beginnings of winds, either they
are thrown and cast down from above, or they spring out
of the earth, or they are made up of the very body of the

air,
Local beginnings of winds,

8. According to these three beginnings inquire concern=
ing winds; namely, which are thrown down, out of that
which they call the middle region of the air; which breathe
out of the concavities of the earth, whether they break out
together; or whether they breathe out of the earth imper-
ceivably, and scattering, and afterwards gather together,
like rivulets into a river. Finally, which are scatteringly
engendered from the swellings and dilatations of the neigh-
bouring air ?

Neither are the generations of the winds original only,
for some there are also accidental, namely, by the compres-
sions or restraints of the air, and by the percussions and
repercussions of it. |

Accidental generations and production of winds.

9. Inquire concerning these accidental generations of
winds: they are not properly generations of winds; for
acy rather increase and strengthen winds, than produce
and excite them.

Hitherto of the community of winds. There are also
certain rare and prodigious winds, such as are called tem-

ests, whirlwinds, and storms. ‘Fhese are above ground.

here are likewise some that are subterraneal and under
ground, whereof some vaporous and mercurial, they are
perceivable in mines; some are sulphurous, they are sent
out, getting an issue by earthquakes, or do flame out of
fiery mountains.

Extraordinary winds and sudden blasts.

10. Inquire concerning such rare and prodigious winds,
and of all miraculous and wonderful things done by winds.

244 NATURAL HISTORY

From the several sorts of winds let the inquisition pass
to those things which contribute towards the winds (for we
will so express it, because the word efficient signifies more,
and the word concomitant less than we mean), and to those
things which seem to raise, or to appease the winds.

Things contributing or making for the winds, and raising and appeasing them.

11. Inquire sparingly concerning astrological considera-
tions of winds, neither care thou for the over curious
schemes of the heaven, only do not neglect the more ma-
nifest observations of winds rising, about the rising of
some stars, or about the eclipses of the luminaries, or con-

junctions of planets; nor much less on those which depend —

on the courses of the sun and moon.

12. What meteors of several sorts do contribute or make
for winds, what the earthquakes, what rain, what the skir-
mishing of winds one with another? for these things are
linked together, and one draws on the other.

13. What the diversity of vapours and exhalations con-
tributes towards the winds? and which of them do most

engender winds; and how far the nature of winds doth |

follow these its materials. 43

14. What those things which are here upon the earth, or
are there done do contribute towards the winds; what the
hills and the dissolutions of snow upon them; what those
masses of ice which swim upon the sea, and are carried to
some place; what the differences of soil and land (so it be
of some large extent); what ponds, sands, woods, and
champion ground; what those things which we men do
_ here, as burning of heath, and the like, doth contribute to

the manuring of land, the firing of towns in time of war,
the drying up of ponds and lakes; the continual shooting
off of guns, the ringing of many bells together in great
cities, and the like? These things and acts of ours are but
as small straws, yet something they may do.

15. Inquire concerning all manner of raisings, or allay-

ings of winds, but be sparing in fabulous and superstitious

causes.

From those things which make for the winds, let the in- |
quisition proceed to inquire of the bounds of the winds, of |

their height, extension, and continuance.
The bounds of winds.

16. Inquire carefully of the height or elevation of winds, |

and whether there be any tops of mountains to which the. |

winds do not reach; or whether clouds may be seen some= |—

)
|

|

|

OF WINDS. 245

times to stand still, and not move, when the winds at the
same time blow strongly upon the earth.

17. Inquire diligently of the spaces or rooms which
the winds take up at once, and within what bounds they
blew? As for example, if the south wind blew in such a
place, whether it be known certainly, that at the same time
the north wind blew ten miles off? And, contrariwise,
into how narrow and straight bounds the winds may be
reduced, so that winds may pass, as it were, through chan-
nels, which seems to be done in some whirlwinds.

18. Inquire for how long time, very much, ordinary, or
little time, winds use to continue, and then slack, and, as
it were, expire and die. Likewise how the rising and be-
ginning of winds useth to be; what their languishing or
cessation is, whether suddenly, or by degrees, or how? »

From the bounds of the winds let your inquisition pass
over to the succession of winds, either amongst themselves,
or in respect of rain and showers; for when they lead their
rings it were pretty to know the order of their dancing.

Successions of winds.

19. Whether there be any more certain rule or observa-
tion concerning the successions of winds one to another, or
whether it have any relation to the motion of the sun, or
otherwise ; if it have any, what manner of one it is?

20 Inquire concerning the succession and the alteration,
or taking turns of the winds and rain, seeing it is ordinarily
and often seen, that rain lays the wind, and the wind doth
disperse the rain.

_ 21. Whether after a certain term and period of years the
succession of winds begin anew; and if it be so, what that
period is and how long ?

From the succession of the winds, let the inquisition pass
to their motions; and the motions of winds are compre-
hended in seven inquisitions ; whereof three are contained
in the former articles, four remain as yet untouched. For
we have inquired of the motion of winds divided into the
several regions of the heaven; also of the motion upon
three lines, upward, downward, and laterally. Likewise of
the accidental motion of compressions or restraints. There
remain the fourth of progressions or going forward; the
fifth of undulation, or waving; the sixth of conflict or
skirmish ; the seventh in human instruments and engines.

Divers motions of the winds.

22. Seeing progression is always from some certain place

or bound, inquire diligently, or as well as thou canst, con-

246 NATURAL HISTORY

cerning the place of the first beginning, and, as it were, the
spring of any wind. For winds seem to be hke unto fame,
for though they make a noise and run up and down, yet
they hide their heads amongst the clouds; so is their pro-
gress; as for example, if the vehement northern wind,
which blew at York such a day, do blow at London two
days after.

- 23. Omit not the inquisition of undulation of winds.
We call undulation of winds that motion by which the
wind in or for a little space of time rises and abates, as the
waves of the water; which turns may easily be apprehended
by the hearing of them in houses; and you must so much
the rather mark the differences of undulation, or of fur-
rowing between the water and the air, because in the air
and winds there wants the motion of gravity or weight,
which is a great part of the cause of the waves rising in the
water.

24. Inquire carefully concerning the conflict and meet-
ing of winds, which blow at one and the same time: first,
whether at the same time there blow several original winds
(for we do not speak of reverberated winds)? which if it
comes to pass, what windings they engender and bring
forth in their motion, and also what condensations, and
alterations they produce in the body of the air?

25, Whether one wind blow above at the same time as
another blows here below with us? For it hath been ob-
served by some, that sometimes the clouds are carried one
way, when the weathercock upon a steeple stands another,
Also, that the clouds have been driven by a strong gale,
when we here below have had a great calm.

‘26. Make an exact particular description of the motion
of the winds in driving on ships with their sails.

27. Let there be a description made of the motion of the
winds in the sails of ships, and the sails of windmills, in the
flight of hawks and birds; also in things that are ordinary,
and for sport, as of displayed colours, flying dragons, duels
with winds, &c,

From the motions of winds, let the inquisition pass to the
force and power of them.

Of the power of winds,

28. What winds do or can do concerning currents or tides
of waters, in their keeping back, putting forth, or inlets and
overflowings. 2 ae

29, What they do concerning plants and insects, bring-
ing in of locusts, blastings, and mildews.

OF WINDS. 247

30. What they effect concerning purging or clearing,
and infecting of the air, in plagues, sicknesses, and diseases
of beasts.

31. What they effect concerning the conveying to us
things (which we call) spiritual, as sounds, rays, and the
like.

From the powers of winds let the inquisition pass to the
prognostics of winds, not only for the use of predictions,
but because they lead us on to the causes: for prognostics
do either show us the preparations of things, before they be
brought into action ; or the beginnings before they appear

to the sense.
Prognostics of winds.

32. Let all manner of good prognostics of winds be care-
fully gathered together (besides astrological ones, of which
we set down formerly how far they are to be inquired after),
and let them either be taken out of meteors, or waters, or
instincts of beasts, or any other way.

Lastly, close up the inquisition, with inquiring after the
imitations of winds, either in natural or artificial things.

Imitations of winds.

33. Inquire of the imitations of winds in natural things ;
such as breaths inclosed within the bodies of living crea-
tures, and breaths within the receptacles of distilling
vessels.

Inquire concerning made gales, and artificial winds, as
bellows, refrigeratories, or coolers in parlours, or dining
rooms, &c.

Let the heads or articles be such. Neither is it unknown
to me that it will be impossible to answer to some of these
according to the small quantity of experience that we have.
But as in civil causes, a good lawyer knows what interro-
gatories the cause requires to have witnesses examined
upon; but what the witnesses can: answer he knows not.
The same thing is incident to us in natural history. Let
those who come after us endeavour for the rest.

TIVE“ APS TSR ¥:

The Names of Winds.
To the first article.

We give names to winds rather as they are numbered in
their order and degrees than by their own antiquity; this
we do for memory’s and perspicuity’s sake. But we add
the old words also, because of the assenting voices or opi-
nions of old authors ; of which having taken (though with
somewhat a doubtful judgment) many things, they will
hardly be known, but under such namesas themselves have
used. Let the general division be this: let cardinal winds
be those which blow from corners or angles of the world ;
semicardinal, those which blow in the half-wards of those;
and median winds, those which blow between these half-
wards: likewise of those which blow betwixt these half-
wards; let those be called major medians which blow in a
quadrant or fourth part of these divisions: the lesser me-
dians are all the rest. Now the particular division is that
which follows:
Cardinal. North.

Cardinal. South.

‘North and by east.
Med, Maj. North-north-east, or aqui-
lo.
North-east, and by north,
or meses.
North-east.
North-east and by east.
East-north-east, or cecias.
East and by north.
Cardinal. East, or subsolanus.
' East by south.
Med. Maj. East-south-east, or vultur-
nus.
South-east and by east.
South-east.
South-east and by south.
South-south-east, or phe-
nicias.
South and by east,

Semicard.

Med. Maj.

Semicard,

Med, Maj.

South and by west.

South-south-west, or libo-
notus.

South-west and by south.

South-west, or libs.

South-west and by west.

West-south-west, or afri-
cus.

West and by south.

West, or favonius.

West and by north.

West-north-west, or co-
TUS.

North-west and by west.

North-west.

North-west and by north,
or thrascias.

North-north-west, or cir-
cius.

North and by west.

Med. Maj.

Semicard.

Med. Maj.

Cardinal.
Med. Maj,

Semicard.

Med. Maj.

There are also other names of winds. Apeliotes, the east
wind, argestes, the south-west, olympias, the north-west,
scyron, the south-east, hellespontius, the east-north-east,

for these we care not.

Let it suffice that we have given

-

SS ———————

NATURAL HISTORY OF WINDS. 249

constant and fixed names of winds, according to the order
and disposition of the regions of the heavens: we do not
set much by the comments of authors, since the authors
themselves have little in them.

Free Winds.
To the sixth article.

_1. There is not a region of the heaven from whence the
wind doth not blow. Ven if you divide the heaven into as
many regions as there be degrees in the horizon, you shall
find winds sometimes blowing from every one of them.

_ 2. There are some whole countries where it never rains,
or at least very seldom; but there is no country where the
wind doth not blow, and that frequently.

General Winds.

To the second article.

1. Concerning general winds experiments are plain ; and
it is no marvel, seeing that (especially within the tropics)
we may find places condemned among the ancients.

It is certain, that to those who sail between the tropics
in a free and open sea, there blows a constant and settled
wind (which the seamen call a breeze) from east to west.
This wind is not of so little force, but that, partly by its
own blowing, and partly by its guiding the current of the
sea, it hindereth seamen from coming back again the same
way they went to Peru. .

2. In our seas in Europe, when it is fair dry weather,
and no particular winds stirring, there blows a soft kind of
gale from the east, which followeth the sun.

3. Our common observations do admit that the higher
clouds are for the most part carried from east to west; and
that it is so likewise when here below upon the earth, either
there is a great calm or a contrary wind ; and if they do not
so always, it is because sometimes particular winds blow
aloft which overwhelm this general wind.

A caution. If there be any such general wind, in order
to the motion of the heaven, it is not so firm nor strong,
but that it gives way to particular winds. But it appears
most plainly amongst the tropics, by reason of the larger
circles which it makes. And likewise it is so when it blows
on high, for the same cause, and by reason of its free course.
Wherefore if you will take it without the tropics, and near
the earth (where it blows most gently and slowly), make
trial of it in an open and free air, in an extreme calm, and

250 NATURAL HISTORY

in high places, and in a body which is very moveable, and
in the afternoon, for at that time the particular eastern
wind blows more sparingly.

Injunction. Observe diligently the veins and weather-
cocks upon the tops and towers of churches, whether in
extreme calms they stand continually towards the west or
not.

An indirect experiment.

4, It is certain, that here with us in Europe the eastern
wind is drying and sharp; the west wind contrariwise,
moist and nourishing. May not this be by reason that (it
being granted that the air moves from east to west) it must
of necessity be that the east wind, whose blast goeth the
same way, must needs disperse and attenuate the air,
whereby the air is made biting and dry; but the western
wind, which blows the contrary way, turns the airs back
upon itself and thickens it, whereby it becomes more dull,
and at length moist.

An indirect experiment.

5. Consider the inquisition of the motion and flowing of
waters, whether they move from east to west ; for if the two
extremes, heaven and waters, delight in this motion, the
air which is in the midst will go near to participate of the
same.

Caution. We call the two last experiments indirect, be-
cause they do directly show the thing which we aim at
but by consequence, which we also gladly admit of when
we want direct experiments. |

Injunction. That the breeze blows plentifully between
the tropics is most certain; the cause is very ambiguous,
The cause may be, because the air moves according to the
heaven; but without the tropics almost imperceivably, by
reason of the smaller circles which it makes within the tro-
pics manifestly, because it makes bigger circles. Another
cause may be, because all kind of heat dilates and extends
the air, and doth not suffer it to be contained in its former
place ; and by the dilation of the air, there must needs be
an impulsion of the contiguous air which produceth this
breeze, as the sun goes forward: and that is more evident
within the tropics, where the sun is more scorching, without
it is hardly perceived. And this seems to be an instance
of the cross, or a decisory instance. To clear this doubt
you may inquire, whether the breeze blow in the night or
no; for the wheeling of the air continues also in the night,
but the heat of the sun does not.

OF WINDS. 251

6. But it is most certain that the breeze doth not blow
in the night, but in the morning, and when the morning
is pretty well spent; yet that instance doth not determine
the question, whether the nightly condensation of the air
(especially in those countries where the days and nights
are not more equal in their length than they are differing
in their heat and cold) may dull and confound that natural
motion of the air, which is but weak.

If the air participates of the motion of the heaven, it
does not only follow that the east wind concurs with the
motion of the air, and the west wind strives against it; but
also that the north wind blows as it were from above, and
the south wind as from below here in our hemisphere, where
the antarctic pole is under ground, and the arctic pole is
elevated ! which hath likewise been observed by the ancients,
though staggeringly and obscurely: but it agrees very well
with our modern experience, because the breeze (which
may be a motion of the air) is not a full east but a north-
east wind.

Stayed or Certain Winds.
To the third article. Connexion.

As in the inquisition of general winds, men have suffered
and been in darkness, so they have been troubled with a
vertigo or giddiness concerning stayed and certain winds,
Of the former, they say nothing ; of the latter, they talk up
and down at random. This is the more pardonable, the
thing being various; for these stayed winds do change and
alter according to the places where they be: the same do
not blow in Egypt, Greece, and Italy.

1. That there are stayed winds in some places, the very
name that is given them doth declare it, as the other name
of etesiaes means anniversary or yearly winds.

2. The ancients attributed the cause of the overflowing
of Nilus to the blowing of the etesian (that is to say
northern) winds at that time of the year which did hinder
the river’s running into the sea, and turned the stream of
it back.

_ 3. There are currents in the sea which can neither be
attributed to the natural motion of the ocean, nor to the
running down from higher places, nor the straitness of the
opposite shores, nor to promontories running out into the
oe are merely guided and governed by these stayed
winds.

4, Those who will not have Columbus to have conceived

a

952 NATURAL HISTORY

such a strong opinion concerning the West Indies by the
relation of a Spanish pilot, and much less believe that he
might gather it out of some obscure footsteps of the ancients,
have this refuge; that he might conjecture there was some
continent in the west by the certain and stayed winds which
blew from them towards the shores of Lusitania or Portugal.
A doubtful, and not very probable thing, seemg that the
voyage of winds will hardly reach so large a distance. In
the mean time there is great honour due to this inquisition,
if the finding of this new world be due to one of those
axioms or observations, whereof it comprehends many.

5. Wheresoever are high and snowy mountains, from
thence blow stayed winds, until that time as the snow be
melted away.

6. I believe also that from great pools which are full of
water in the winter, there blows stayed winds in those
seasons, when as they begin to dry up with the heat of the
sun. But of this I have no certainty.

7. Wheresoever vapours are engendered in abundance,
and that at certain times, be sure that stayed winds will
blow there at the same times. '

8. If stayed and certain winds blow any where, and the
cause cannot be found near at hand, assure yourself that
those certain winds are strangers, and come from far.

9. It hath been observed, that stayed winds do not blow
in the night time, but do rise about three hours after sun-
rising. Surely such winds are tired as it were with a long
journey, that they can scarcely break through the thick-
ness of the night air, but being stirred up again by the
rising of the sun, they go forward by little and little.

10, All stayed winds (unless they blow from some neigh-
bouring places) are weak, and yield unto sudden winds.

11. There are many stayed winds which are not perceiv-
able, and which we do not observe, by reason of their weak-
ness, whereby they are overthrown by the free winds.
Wherefore in the winter they are hardly taken notice of,
when the free winds wander most: but are more obsery-
able in the summer, when those wandering winds grow
weak.

12. In Europe these are the chief stayed winds, north
winds from the solstice, and they are both forerunners and
followers of the dogstar. West winds from the equinoctial

in autumn, east winds from the spring equinoctial; as for |

the winter solstice, there is little heed to be taken of it, by
reason of the varicties.

OF WINDS. 253

13. The winds called ornithii, or bird winds, had that
name given them because they bring birds out of cold
regions beyond the sea, into warm climates; and they
belong not to stayed winds, because they for the most part
keep no punctual time: and the birds they for the conve-
nience of them, whether they come sooner or later: and
many times when they have begun to blow a little, and
turn, the birds being forsaken by it, are drowned in the
sea, and sometimes fall into ships.

14. The returns of these certain or stayed winds are not
so precise at a day or an hour, as the flowing of the sea is.
Some authors do set down a day, but it is rather by con-
jecture than any constant observation.

Customary or Attending Winds.

Of the fourth and fifth articles. Connexion.

_ The word of attending winds is ours, and we thought good
to give it, that the observation concerning them be not lost,
nor confounded. .The meaning is this, divide the year if
you please (in what country soever you be) into three, four,
or five parts, and if any one certain wind blow, then two,
three, or four of those parts, and a contrary wind but
one; we call that wind which blows most frequently the
customary, or attending wind of that country, and likewise
of the times. |

1. The south and north winds are attendants of the
world, for they with those which are within their sections
or divisions blow oftener over all the world, than either
the east or the west.

2. All free winds (not the customary) are more attendant
in the winter than in the summer ; but most of all in the
autumn and spring.

3. All free winds are attendants rather in the countries
without the tropics, and about the Polar circles, than
within: for in frozen and in torrid countries, for the most
part they blow more sparingly, in the middle regions they
are more frequent.

4. Also all free winds, especially the strongest and most
forcible of them, do blow oftener and more strongly, morn-
ing and evening, than at noon and night.

5. Free winds blow frequently in hollow places, and
where there be caves, than in solid and firm ground.

Injunction. Human diligence hath almost ceased and
stood still in the observation of attending winds in parti-

254 NATURAL HISTORY

cular places, which notwithstanding should not have been, —

that observation being profitable for many things. I re-
member, I asked a certain merchant (a wise and discreet
man), who had made a plantation in Greenland, and had
wintered there, why that country was so extreme cold,
seeing it stood in a reasonable temperate climate. He
said, 1t was not so great as it was reported’; but that the
cause was twofold: One was, that the masses and heaps
of ice which came out of the Scythian sea were carried
thither. The other (which he also thought to be the
better reason) was because the west wind there blows many
parts of the year, more than the east wind; as also (said
he) it doth with us; but there it blows from the continent,
and cold, but with us from the sea and warmish, And
(said he) if the east wind should blow here in England so
often and constantly as the west wind does there, we should
have far colder weather, even equal to that as is there.

6. The west winds are attendants of the pomeridian or —

afternoon hours: for towards the declining of the sun, the
winds blow oftener from the east than from the west.

7. The south wind is attendant on the night; for it rises
and blows more strongly in the night, and the north wind
in the day time.

8. But there are many and great differences between
winds which are attendant on the sea, and those which
are attendant upon the land. That is one of the chief
which gave Columbus occasion to find out the new world ;
namely, that sea winds are not stayed, but land winds are:
for the sea abounding in vapours, which are indifferently
every where, winds are also engendered indifferently every
where, and with great inconstancy are carried here and
there, having no certain beginnings nor sources. But the
earth is much unlike for the begetting of winds: some
places are more efficacious to engender and increase winds,
some less: wherefore they stand most from that part where
they have their nourishment, and take their rise from
thence. : :

9. Acosta is unconstant in his own position. He saith
that at Peru, and the sea coasts of the south sea, south
winds do blow almost the whole year: and he saith in
another place, that upon those coasts sea winds do blow
chiefliest. But the south wind to them is a land wind, as

likewise the north and east wind also, and the west wind.

is their only sea wind. We must take that which he sets
down more certainly; namely, that the south wind is an
attending and familiar wind of those countries: unless

OF WINDS. 255

peradventure in the name of the south sea he hath cor-
rupted his meaning, or his speech, meaning the west by
the south, which blows from the south sea. But the sea
which they call the south sea is not properly the south
sea; but as a second western ocean, being stretched out in
the like situation as the atlantic sea is. |

10. Sea winds are questionless more moist than land
winds, but yet they are more pure, and will easilier, and
with more equality be incorporated with the pure air. For
terrestrial winds are ill composed, and smoky. Neither
let any one object, that they ought to be grosser by reason
of the saltness of the sea. For the nature of terrestrial
salt doth not rise in vapours.

11. Sea winds are luke-warm or cold, by reason of the two
foresaid qualities, humidity and pureness. For by humi-
dity they mitigate the colds (for dryness increaseth both
heat and cold), and with their pureness they cool. There~-
fore without the tropics they are luke-warm, within the
tropics they are cold.

12. I believe that sea winds are every where attendant
upon particular countries, especially such as stand upon
the sea coasts: that is to say, winds blow more frequently
from that side where the sea is, by reason of the greater
plenty of matter which winds have in the sea, than in the
land ; unless there be some firm wind blowing from the
land, for some peculiar reason. But let no man confound
firm or stayed winds with attendant winds: the attendants
being always more frequent; but the stayed ones for the
most part blowing more seldom. But that is common to
them both, namely, to blow from that place from which
they receive their nourishment.

13. Sea winds are commonly more vehement than land
winds: yet when they cease, the sea is calmer from the —
shores than near unto them; insomuch that mariners, to
avoid calms, will sometimes coast along the shore, rather
than launch into the deep.

14, Winds which are called tropei, that is to say, re-
torted, namely, such as when they have blown a little way,
suddenly turn again, such winds I say blow from the sea
towards the shore: but retorted winds, and whirlwinds are
most commonly in gulfs of seas.

15. Some small gales blow for the most part about all
great waters, and they are most felt in a morning; but
more about rivers than at sea, because of the difference
which is between a land gale and a water gale.

16. In places which are near the sea trees bow and bend,

256 NATURAL HISTORY

as shunning the sea air: but that comes not through any
averseness to them ; but sea winds, by reason of their hu-
midity and thickness, are as it were more heavy and pon-
derous.

The Qualities and Powers of Winds.

To the seventh, twenty-eighth, twenty-ninth, thirtieth, and thirty-first articles.
Connexion.

Concerning the qualities and powers of winds men have

made careless and various observations: we will cull out
the most certain, and the rest, as too light, we will leave
to the winds themselves.

1. With us the south wind is rainy, and the northern
wind clear and fair, the one gathers together and nourishes
the clouds ; the other scatters and casts them off. Where-
fore the poets, when they speak of the deluge, feign the

northern wind at that time to-be shut up in prison, and

the south wind to be sent out with very large commission.
2. The west wind hath with us been held to be the wind

which blew in the golden age, the companion of a per- —

petual spring, and a cherisher of flowers. 7
3. Paracelsus his scholars, when they sought for a place
for their three principles in Juno’s temple also, which is
the air, placed three, but found no place for the east wind.
They Mercury ascribe to the south winds,
To the rich western blasts the sulphur mines,
And rugged Boreas’ blasts the sad salt finds.

4, But with us in England the east wind is thought to
be mischievous, so that it goes for a proverb, “ that when
the wind is in the east, it is neither good for man nor
beast.”

5. The south wind blows from the presence of the sun;

the north from the absence in our hemisphere. The east
wind in order to the motion of the air, the west wind from

the sea, the east wind from the continent, most commonly ©

in Europe and the western parts of Asia. These are the
most radical and essential differences of winds; from which
truly and really depend most of the qualities and powers of
the winds.

6. The south wind is not so anniversary or yearly, nor

so stayed as the northern wind is, but more wandering and _
free ; and when it is stayed, it is so soft and mild that it |

can scarcely be perceived.

7. The south wind is lower, and more lateral, and blow- |

OF WINDS. 257

ing of one side; the northern wind is higher and blows
from above; we do not mean the polar elevation and de-
pression of which we have spoken formerly; but because
the north wind for the most part hath its beginnings higher,
' and the south wind for the most part nearer to us.

8. The south wind to us is rain (as we said before),
but in Africa it causes clear weather, but bringing great
heat along with it, and not cold, as some have aftirmed.
In Africa it is pretty healthful, but to us, if the south
wind last long with fair weather and without rain, it is very
pestilent.

' 9. The south winds and west winds do not engender
vapours, but they blow from those coasts where there is

reat store of them, by reason of the increase of the sun’s
heat, which draws forth the vapours, and therefore they are
rainy. But if they blow from dry places, which have no
vapours in them, they are fair. But, notwithstanding, some-
times they are pure and sometimes turbulent.

10. The south and west winds here with us seem to be
confederate, and are warm and moist, and on the other side
the north and east winds have some affinity between them,
being cold and dry.

11. The north and south winds (whereof we have also
spoken before) do blow oftener than the east and west
winds, because there is a great inequality of vapours in
those parts, by reason of the absence and presence of the
sun, but to the east and to the west the sun is, as it were,
indifferent.

12. The south wind is very heathful when it comes from
the sea, but when it blows from the continent it is more
unhealthful; and so, contrariwise, the north wind is sus-
picious blowing from the sea, from the continent it is health-
ful. Likewise the south sea wind is very agreeable with
plants and fruits, killing their cankers, or rusts and other
hurtful annoyances.

13. A gentle south wind doth assemble and gather toge-
ther clouds much, especially if it continue but a short
while; but if it blow too boisterously, or long, it clouds
the sky and brings in rain. But especially when it ceases
or grows remiss, more than in its beginning, and when it is
in its chiefest vigour.

14. When the south wind either begins to blow or ceases,
for the most part there are changes of weather, from fair to
cloudy, and from hot tg cold, and contrariwise. The north

VOL. XIV. S

258 NATURAL HISTORY

wind many times rises and ceases, the former weather re-
maining and continuing.

15. After hoary frosts and long continued snow there

scarcely blows any otherwind than a south wind, there being,
as it were, a concoction or digestion made of cold, which then
at last dissolves; neither doth rain also follow; but this
likewise happens in changes or intervals of fair weather.
16. The south wind rises oftener and blows stronger in
the night than in the day, especially in winter nights.

But the north wind, if it rise in the night (which is contrary —

to its custom), it doth usually last above three days.

17. When the south wind blows the waves swell higher
than when the north wind blows, though it blows with an
equal or lesser force.

18. The south wind blowing, the sea becomes blue and
more bright than when the north wind blows, which causes
at to look darker and blacker.

19. When the air becomes warmer on a sudden, it some-
times betokens rain; and, again at other times, when on a
sudden it grows colder, it likewise betokens rain. But this
happens according to the nature of the winds; for if the
air grow warm whilst the south or east wind blows, there
is rain at hand, and likewise when it grows cold during the
northern or western blasts.

20. The south wind blows for the most part entire and
alone. But the north wind blowing, especially the east-
north-east, or the north-west, oftentimes contrary and
various, or divers winds blow together, whereby they are
broken and disturbed.

21. Beware of a northern wind when you sow seed, |
neither would I wish any one to inoculate or graft in a |

southern wind.

22. Leaves fall from trees soonest on the south side, but |
vine sprouts or stalks bud forth, and grow most that way. _

23. In large pasture shepherds must take care (as Pliny | |

saith) to bring their flocks to the north side, that they may | |

feed against the south. For if they feed towards the north

they grow lame and bleareyed, and distempered in their

bellies. The northern wind also doth so weaken their

coupling, that if they couple looking that way, they will for |
the most part bring forth ewe-lambs. But Pliny doth not |
stand very stifly to this opinion, having, as it were, taken It |

up upon trust and borrowed it. .
24, Winds are hurtful to wheat and all manner of gram

at three times ; namely, at the opening and at the falling |

Pe

OF WINDS. 259

of the flower, and when the grain itself is ripe, for then they
blow the corn out of the ear, and at the other two times
either they blast the flower or blow it off.

25. While the south wind blows men’s breath grows
ranker, all creatures’ appetites decay, pestilent diseases
reign, men wax more slow and dull. But when the wind
is northwardly, men are more lively, healthful, and greedy
after food. Yet the northern wind is hurtful for them that
are troubled with the phthisick, cough, gout, or any other
sharp defluxions. ;

26. An east wind is dry, piercing, and mortifying. The
west wind moist, meek, and nourishing.

27. If the east wind blow when the spring is any thing
forward, it is hurtful to fruits, bringing in of worms and
caterpillars, so that the leaves are hardly spared: neither
is it very good to grain. Contrariwise, the west wind is
very propitious and friendly to herbs, flowers, and all man-
ner of vegetables. And so is the east wind too about the
autumnal equinox. |

28. Western winds are more vehement than eastern
winds, and bow and bend trees more.

29. Rainy weather, which begins when the east wind
blows, doth last longer than that which begins when a
west wind blows, and may peradventure hold out for a
whole day.

30. The east and north wind, when they once begin to
blow, blow more constantly ; the south and west wind are
more mutable.

31. In an eastern wind all visible things do appear
bigger; but in a western wind all audible things are heard
further, as sounds of bells and the like.

32. The east-north-east wind draws clouds to it. It is
a proverb amongst the Greeks to compare it to usurers,
who by laying out money do swallow it up. It is a vehe-
ment and large wind, which cannot remove clouds so fast,
as they will turn back and press upon it. Which is like-
hen seen in great fires, which grow stronger against the
wind.

33. Cardinal or semicardinal winds are not so stormy
as the Median.

34. Median winds from north to north-east are more
fair, from north-east to east more stormy. Likewise from
east to south-east more fair, from south-east to south more
stormy. Likewise from south to south-west more fair,
from south-west to west more stormy. Likewise from west

260 NATURAL HISTORY

to north-west more fair; from north-west to north more
stormy. So that proceeding according to the order of the
heavens, the Median winds of the first halfward are always
disposed to fair weather, those of the latter halfward to
storms and tempests.

35. Thunders and lightnings, and storms, with falling of
broken clouds are, when such cold winds as participate of the
north do blow, as the north-west, north-north-west, north-
north-east, north-east, and east-north-east. Wherefore
those thunders likely are accompanied with hail. |

36. Likewise snowy winds come from the north, but it
is from those Median winds which are not stormy, as the
north-west, and north-east, and by north. |

37. Winds gain their natures and properties five ways
only: either by the absence or presence of the sun ; or by
agreeing or disagreeing with the natural motion of the air;
or by the diversity of the matter which feedeth them, by
which they are engendered ; as sea, snow, marishes, or the
like ; or by the tincture of the countries through which
they pass ; or by their original local beginnings: on high,
under ground, in the middle; all which things the ensuing
articles will better declare and explain. :

38. All winds have a power to dry, yea, more than the
sun itself, because the sun draws out the vapours; but if
it be not very fervent, it doth not disperse them: but the
wind both draws them out, and carries them away. But
the south wind doth this least of any; and both timber
and stones sweat more when the south wind blows a little,
than when it is calm and lies still. |

59. March winds are far more drying than summer
winds ; insomuch that such as make musical instruments
will stay for March winds to dry their stuff they make

their instruments of, to make it more porous, and better |

soundin o,

40. All manner of winds purge the air, and cleanse it |
from all putrefaction, so that such years as are most windy, |

are most healthful.

41. The sun is like to princes, who sometimes having
appointed deputies in some remote countries, the subjects
there are more obsequious to those deputies, and yield them

more respect than to the prince himself. And so the winds | |

which have their power and origin from the sun, do govern |
the temperatures of the countries, and the disposition of |

the air as much or more than the sun itself. Insomuch
that Peru (which, by reason of the nearness of the ocean, |

OF WINDS; - 261

‘the vastness of rivers, and exceeding great and high hills,
hath abundance of winds and blasts blowing there) may
contend with Europe for a temperate and sweet air.

42. It is no wonder if the force and power of winds be
so great, as it is found to be; vehement winds being as
inundations, torrents, and flowmegs of the spacious air,
neither (if we attentively heed it) is their power any great

matter. They can throw down trees, which with their
_tops, like unto spread sails, give them advantage to do it,
and are a burden to themselves. Likewise they can blow
down weak buildings; strong and firm ones they cannot
without earthquakes join with them. Sometimes they will
blow all the snow off the tops of hills, burying the valley
that is below them with it; as it befell Solomon in the
Sultanian fields. They will also sometimes drive in waters,
and cause great inundations.
_ 43. Sometimes winds will dry up rivers, and leave the
channels bare. For if after a great drought a strong wind
blows with the current for many days, so that it as it were
sweeps away the water of the river into the sea, and keeps
the sea water from coming in, the river will dry up in many
places where it doth not use to be so.

Monition. Turn the poles, and withal turn the observa-
tions as concerning the north and south. For the presence
and absence of the sun being the cause, it must vary ac-
cording to the poles. But this may be a constant thing,
that there is more sea towards the south, and more land
towards the north, which doth not a little help the winds.

Monition. Winds are made, or engendered a thousand
ways, as by the subsequent inquisition it will appear; so
to fix that observation in a thing so various is not very
easy. Yet those things which we have set down are,-for
the most part, most certain.

Local Beginnings of Winds.
To the eighth article. Connexion.

- To know the local beginnings of winds, is a thing which
requires a deep search and inquisition, seeing that the
whence and whither of winds are things noted even in
scripture to be abstruse and hidden. Neither do we now
speak of the fountains or beginnings of particular winds
(of which more shall be said hereafter), but of the matrixes
of winds in general. Some fetch them from above, some
search for them in the deep: but in the middle (where they

262 NATURAL HISTORY

are for the most part engendered) nobody hardly looks for
them: such is the custom of men to inquire after things
which are obscure, and omit those things which lie, as it
were, in their way. This is certain, that winds are either
inbred or strangers; for winds are as it were merchants of
vapours, which being by them gathered into clouds, they
carry out and bring in again into countries, from whence
winds are again returned as it were by exchange. But let
us now inquire concerning native winds, for those which,

coming from another place, are strangers, are in another _

place natives. There are three local beginnings of them:
they either breathe or spring out of the ground, or are cast
down from above, or are here made up in the body of the
air. Those which are cast down from above are of a double
generation; for they are either cast down before they be
formed into clouds, or afterwards composed of rarefied and
dispersed clouds. Let us now see what is the history of
these things.

1. The poets feigned Eolus his kingdom to be placed
under ground in dens and caves, where the winds’ prison
was, out of which they were at times let forth.

2. Some philosophical divines, moved by those words of
scripture, “ He brings forth the winds out of his treasures,”
think that the winds come out of some treasuries ; namely,
places under ground amongst the mines of minerals. But
this is nothing ;. for the scripture speaketh likewise of the
treasures of snow and hail, which doubtless are engendered
above.

3. Questionless in subterraneal places there is great store
of air, which it is very likely sometimes breathes out by
little and little, and sometimes again, upon urgent causes,
must needs come rushing forth together.

An indirect experiment.

In great droughts, and in the middle of summer, when
the ground is cleft and chopped, there breaks out water
many times in dry and sandy places; which if waters
(being a gross body) do, though it be but seldom, it is pro-
bable that the air (which is a subtile and tenuous body)
may often do it.

4, If the air breathes out of the earth by little and little,
and scatteringly, it is little perceived at the first; but when
many of those small emanations or comings out are come
together, there is a wind produced, as a river out of several
springs. And this seems to be so, because it hath been
observed by the ancients, that many winds in those places

OF WINDS. 263

where they begin, do at first blow but softly, which after-
ward grow stronger and increase in their progress like unto
rivers.

5. There are some places in the sea, and some lakes also
which swell extremely when there is no wind stirring,
which apparently proceeds from some subterraneal wind.

6. There is great quantity of subterraneal spirit required
to shake or cleave the earth; less will serve turn for the
‘raising of water. Wherefore earthquakes come but seldom,
risings and swellings of waters are more frequent.

7. Likewise it is everywhere taken notice of that waters
do somewhat swell and rise before tempests.

8. The weak subterraneal spirit which is breathed out
scatteringly is not perceived upon the earth until it be
_ gathered into wind, by reason the earth is full of pores;
but when it issues from under the water, it is presently
perceived (by reason of the water’s continuity) by some
manner swelling.

9. We resolved before that in cavernous and denny places
there were attendant winds; insomuch that those winds
seem to have their local beginnings out of the earth.

10. In great and rocky hills winds are found to breathe
sooner (namely, before they be perceived in the valleys),
and more frequently (namely, when it is calm weather in
the valleys), but all mountains and rocks are cavernous
and hollow.

11. In Wales, in the county of Denbigh, a mountainous
and rocky country, out of certain caves (as Gilbertus re-
lateth) are such vehement eruptions of wind, that clothes
or linen laid out there upon any occasion, are blown up,
and carried a great way up into the air.

12. In Aber Barry, near Severn in Wales, in a rocky
cliff, are certain holes, to which if you lay your ear, you
shall hear divers sounds and murmurs of winds under
ground.

An indirect experiment.

Acosta hath observed that.the towns of Plata and Potosi,
in Peru, are not far distant one from the other, and both
situated upon a high and hilly ground, so that they differ
not in that ; and yet Potosi hath a cold and winter-like air,
and Plata hath a mild and spring-like temperature, which
difference it seems may be attributed to the silver mines
which are near Potosi; which showeth that there are breath-
ing places of the earth, as in relation to hot and cold.

13. If the earth be the first cold thing, according to

{

264. NATURAL HISTORY

a

Parmenides (whose opinion is not contemptible, seeing

cold and density are knit together by a strict knot), it is.

no less probable that there are hotter breaths sent out
from the central cold of the earth than are cast down from
the cold of the higher air.

14. There are certain wells in Dalmatia, and the countr
of Cyrene (as some of the ancients record) into which if
you cast a stone, there will presently arise tempests, as if

the stone had broken some covering of a place, in which

the force of the winds was enclosed.
An indirect experiment.

fd&tna, and divers other mountains cast out fire; there-
fore it is likely that air may likewise break forth, especially
being dilatated and set into motion by heat in subterraneal

laces.

15. It hath been noted, that both before and after earth-
quakes there hath blown certain noxious and foreign winds;
as there are certain little smothers usually before and after
great firings and burnings.

Momtion. The air shut up in the earth is forced to break
out for several causes: sometimes a mass of earth, ill jomed
together, falls into a hollow place of the earth; sometimes
waters do 1ngulf themselves; sometimes the air is extended
by subterraneal heats, and seeks for more room; sometimes
the earth, which before was solid and vaulted, being by
fires turned into ashes, no longer able to bear itself up,
falls. And many such like causes.

And so these inquisitions have been made concerning
the first local beginning of winds. Now followeth the
second origin, or beginning from above, namely, from that
which they call the middle region of the air.

Monition. But let no man understand what hath. been
spoken so far amiss, as if we should deny the rest of the
winds also are brought forth of the earth by vapours. But

this first kind was of winds which come forth of the earth,

being already perfectly framed winds.
16. It hath been observed, that there is a murmuring of
woods before we do plainly perceive the winds, whereby it

is conjectured that the wind descends from a higher place,

which is likewise observed in hills (as we said before), but
the cause is more ambiguous, by reason of the concavity
and hollowness of the hills. :

17. Wind follows darted, or (as we call them) shooting
stars, and it comes that way as the star hath shot; whereby
it appears that. the air hath been moved above, before the
motion comes to us.

OF WINDS. 265

18. The opening of the firmament and dispersion of
clouds are prognostics of winds, before they blow here on
earth, which also shows that the winds begin above.

19. Small stars are not seen before the rising of winds,
though the night be clear and fair; because (it should
seem) the air grows thick, and is less transparent, by
reason of that matter which afterward is turned into wind.

20. There appears circles about the body of the moon,

the sun looks sometimes blood red at its setting, the moon
rises red at her fourth rising; and there are many more
prognostics of winds on high (whereof we will speak in its
proper place) which shows that the matter of the winds is
there begun and prepared.
21. In these experiments you must note that difference
we spake of, namely, of the twofold generation of winds on
high ; that is to say, before the gathering together of va-
pours into a cloud, and after. For the prognostics of
circles about, and colours of the sun and moon, have some-
thing of the cloud; but that darting, and occultation of
the lesser stars is in fair and clear weather.

22. When the wind comes out of a cloud ready formed,
either the cloud is totally dispersed, and turned into wind,
or it is torn and rent in sunder, and the wind breaks out,
as in a storm.

23. There are many indirect experiments in the world,
concerning the repercussion by cold. So that it being cer-
tain, that there are most extreme colds in the middle region
of the air, it is likewise plain, that vapours for the most
part cannot break through that place without being joined
and gathered together, or darted, according to the opinion
- of the ancients, which in this particular is true and sound.

The third local beginning of winds is of those which are
engendered here in the lower part of the air, which we also
eall swellings or overburthenings of the air; a thing very
familiar and frequent, yet passed over with silence.

A Commentation. The generation of those winds which
are made up in this lower part of the air is a thing no more
obscure than this: namely, that the air newly composed
and made up of water, and attenuated and resolved vapours,
joined with the first air, cannot be contained within the
same bounds as it was before, but groweth out and is turned,
and takes up further room. Yet there are in this two things
to be granted. First, that one drop of water turned into -
air (whatsoever they fabulously speak of the tenth propor-
tion of the elements) requires at least a hundred times
more room than it had before. Secondly, that a little

266 NATURAL HISTORY

new air, and moved, added to the old air, shaketh the
whole, and sets it into motion; as we may perceive by a
little wind that comes forth of a pair of bellows, or in at a
little crevice of a window or wall, that will set all the air
which is in a room in motion, as appears by the blazing of
the lights which are in the same room.

24. As dews and mists are engendered here in the lower
air, never coming to be clouds, nor penetrating to the
middle region of the air: in the like manner are also many
winds. :

25. A continual gale blows about the sea, and other
waters, which is nothing but a small wind newly made up.

26. The rainbow, which is as it were the lowest of me-
teors, and nearest to us, when it doth not appear whole,
but curtailed, and as it were only some pieces of the horns
of it, is dissolved into winds, as often, or rather oftener than
into rain.

27. It hath been observed, that there are some winds in
countries which are divided and separated by hills, which
ordinarily blow on the one side of the hills, and do not
reach to the other, whereby it manifestly appears that they
are engendered below the height of the said hills.

28. There are an infinite sort of winds that blow in fair
and clear days, and also in countries where it never rains,
which are engendered where they blow, and never were
clouds, nor did ever ascend into the middle region of the
alr.

Indirect experiments.

Whosoever shall know how easily a vapour is dissolved
into air, and how great a quantity of vapours there are,
and how much room a drop of water turned into air takes
up more than it did before (as we said already), and how
little the air will endure to be thrust up together, will ques-
tionless affirm, that of necessity winds must be every where
engendered, from the very superficies of the earth, even to
the highest parts of the air. For it cannot be, that a great
abundance of vapours, when they begin to be dilatated and
expanded, can be lifted up to the middle region of the air,
without an overburthening of the air, and making a noise
by the way.

Accidental Generations of Winds.

To the ninth article. Connexion.

We call those accidental generations of winds which do |

not make or beget the impulsive motion of winds, but with
compression do sharpen it, by repercussion turn it, by sinua-

OF WINDS. 267

tion or winding do agitate and tumble it, which is done by
extrinsical causes, and the posture of the adjoining bodies.

1. In places where there are hills which are not very
high, bordering upon valleys, and beyond them again higher
hills, there is a greater agitation of the air, and sense of
winds, than there is in mountainous or plain places.

2. In cities, if there be any place somewhat broader
than ordinary and narrow goings out, as portals or porches,
and cross streets, winds and fresh gales are there to be
perceived. .

3. In houses cool rooms are made by winds, or happen
to be so where the air bloweth through, and comes in on
the one side and goeth out at the other. But much more
if the air comes in several ways and meets in the corners,
and hath one common passage from thence: the vaulting
likewise and roundness doth contribute much to coolness,
because the air, being moved, is beaten back in every line.
Also the winding of porches is better than if they were
built straight out. Fora direct blast, though it be not shut
up, but hath a free egress, doth not make the air so une-
qual and voluminous, and waving, as the meeting at angles
and hollow places, and windings round, and the like.

4. After great tempests at sea an accidental wind con-
tinues for a time, after the original is laid, which wind is
made by the collision and percussion of the air, through
the curling of the waves.

5. In gardens commonly there is a repercussion of wind,
from the walls and banks, so that one would imagine the
wind to come the contrary way from that whence it really
comes.

6. If hills inclose a country on the one side, and the wind
blows for some space of time from the plain against the
hill, by the very repercussion of the hill, either the wind is
turned into rain, if it be a moist wind, or into a contrary
wind, which will last but a little while.

7. In the turnings of promontory, mariners do often find
changes and alterations of winds.

Extraordinary Winds and sudden Blasts.
To the tenth article. Connexion.

Some men discourse of extraordinary winds, and derive
the causes of them; of clouds breaking, or storms, vortice,
typhone, prestere; or, in English, whirlwinds. But they
do not relate the thing itself, which must be taken out of
chronicles and several histories.

1. Sudden blasts never come in clear weather, but always

268 NATURAL HISTORY

when the sky is cloudy and the weather rainy. That it

may justly be thought that there is a certain eruption made;

the blasts driven out and the waters shaken. |

2. Storms which come with a mist and a fog, and are
called Bellue, and bear up themselves like a column, are
very vehement and dreadful to those who are at sea.

3. The greater typhones, who will take up at some large
distance and sup them, as it were, upward, do happen but
seldom, but small whirlwinds come often. 3

4, All storms and typhones, and great whirlwinds, have
a manifest precipitous motion or darting downwards, more
than other winds, so as they seem to fall like torrents, and

run, as it were, in channels, and be afterwards reverberated

by the earth.

5. In meadows haycocks are sometimes carried on high

and spread abroad there like canopies; likewise in fields
cocks of pease, reaped wheat, and clothes laid out to dry-
ing, are carried up by whirlwinds as high as tops of trees

and houses, and these things are done without any extraor-

dinary force or great vehemency of wind. :

6. Also sometimes there are very small whirlwinds, and
within a narrow compass, which happen also in fair clear
weather ; so that one that rides may see the dust or straws
taken up and turned close by him, yet he himself not feel
the wind much, which things are done questionless near
unto us, by contrary blasts driving one another back, and
causing a circulation of the air by concussion. ce

7. It is certain, that some winds do leave manifest signs
of burning and scorching in plants; but presterem, which
is a kind of dark lightning, and hot air without any flame,
we will put off to the inquisition of lightning. |

Helps to Winds ; namely, to Original Winds ; for of acct-

dental ones we have inquired before.

To the eleventh, twelfth, thirteenth, fourteenth, and fifteenth articles.
Connexion.

Those things which have been spoken by the ancients,

concerning winds and their causes, are merely confused and |

uncertain, and for the most part untrue ; and it is no marvel,

if they see not clear that look not near. They speak as it |
wind were somewhat else, or a thing several from moved |

air; and as if exhalations did generate and make up the whole

body of the winds; and as if the matter of winds were |

only a dry and hot exhalation ; and as if the beginning of

the motion of winds were but only a casting down and per- —

OF WINDS. 269

cussion by the cold of the middle region, all fantastical and
arbitrary opinions; yet out of such threads they weave long
pieces, namely, cobwebs. But all impulsion of the air
is wind; and exhalations mixed with the air contribute
more to the motion than to the matter; and moist vapours,
by a proportionate heat, are easier dissolved into wind than
dry exhalations, and many winds are engendered in the
lowest region of the air, and breathe out of the earth, besides
those which are thrown down and beaten back.

1. The natural wheeling of the air (as we said in the

article of general winds), without any other external cause,
bringeth forth winds perceptible within the tropics, where
the conversion is in greater circles. | :
_ 2. Next to the natural motion of the air, before we inquire
of the sun (who is the chief begetter of winds), let us see
whether any thing ought to be attributed to the moon, and
other asters by clear experience.

3. There arise many great and strong winds some hours
before the eclipse of the moon; so that, if the moon be
eclipsed in the middle of the night, the winds blow the
precedent evening; if the moon be eclipsed towards the
ne, then the winds blow in the middle of the precedent
nicht.
oe In Peru, which is a very windy country, Acosta
observes, that winds blow most when the moon is at the
full. :
Injunction. It were certainly a thing worthy to be ob-
served, what power the ages and motions of the moon have
upon the winds, seeing they have some power over the
waters. As for example, whether the winds be not in a
greater commotion in full and new moons, than in her first
and last quarters, as we find it to be in the flowings of
waters. For though some do conveniently feign the com-
mand of the moon to be over the waters, as the sun and
planets over the air, yet it is certain, that the water and the
air are very homogeneal bodies, and that the moon next to
the sun hath most power over all things here below.

5. It hath been observed by men, that about the con-
_ junctions of planets greater winds do blow.

6. At the rising of Orion there rise commonly divers
winds and storms. But we must advise whether this be
not because Orion rises in such a season of the year as is
most effectual for the generation of winds; so that it is
rather a concomitant than causing thing. Which may
also very well be questioned concerning rain at the rising

270 NATURAL HISTORY

of the Hyades and the Pleiades, and concerning storms at
the rising of Arcturus. And so much concerning the moon
and stars. 2 :

7. The sun is questionless the primary efficient of many
winds, working by its heat on a twofold matter, namely,
the body of the air, and likewise vapours and exhalations,

8. When the sun is most powerful, dilatates and extends
the air, though it be pure and without any commixion one
third part, which is no small matter; so that by mere
dilatation there must needs arise some small wind in the
sun’s ways; and that rather two or three hours after its
rising than at his first rise. |

9. In Europe the nights are hotter, in Peru three hours _
in the morning, and all for one cause, namely, by reason of
winds and gales ceasing and lying still at those hours. |

10. In a vitro calendari, dilatated or extended air beats
down the water, as it were, with a breath; but in a vitro
pileato, which is filled only with air, the dilatated air swells
the bladder, as a manifest and apparent wind.

11. We have made trial of such a kind of wind in a
round tower, every way closed up. For we have placed a
hearth or fireplace in the midst of it, laying a fire of char-
coal thoroughly kindled upon it, that there might be the
less smoke, and on the side of the hearth, at a small dis-
tance, hath been a thread hung up with across of feathers,
to the end that it might easily be moved. So after a little
stay the heat increasing, and the air dilatating, the thread
and the feather cross which hung upon it waved up and
down in a various motion; and, having made hole in the
window of the tower, there came out a hot breath, which
was not continual, but with intermission and waving.

12. Also the reception of air by cold, after dilatation,
begets such a wind, but weaker, by reason of the lesser
force of cold. So that in Peru, under every little shadow,
we find not only more coolness than here with us (by anti-
peristasis), but a manifest kind of gale through the recep-
tion of air when it comes into the shade. And so much
i ie wind occasioned by mere dilatation or reception
of air.

13. Winds proceeding from the mere motion of the air,
without any commixion of vapours, are but gentle and soft.
Let us see what may be said concerning vapoury winds (we
mean such as are engendered by vapours), which may be so
much more vehement than the other, as a dilatation of a
drop of water turned into air exceeds any dilatation of air

OF WINDS, 271

already made: which it doth by many degrees, as we
showed before.

14. The efficient cause of vapoury winds (which are they
that commonly blow) is the sun, and its proportionate heat ;
the matter is vapours and exhalations which are turned and
resolved into air. I say air (and not any thing but air), yet
at the first not very pure.

15, A small heat of the sun doth not raise vapours, and
consequently causes no wind.

16. A mean or middle heat of the sun raiseth and excites
vapours, but doth not presently dissipate them. Therefore
if there be any great store of them they gather together into
rain, either simply of itself, or joined with wind: if there
be but small store of them they turn only to wind.

17. The sun’s heat in its increase inclines more to the
generation of winds, in its decrease to rains,

18. The great and continued heat of the sun attenuates
and disperses vapours and sublimes them, and withal
equally mixes and incorporates them with the air, whereby
the air becomes calm and serene.

19. The more equal and continuate heat of the sun is
less apt for the generation of winds; that which is more
unequal and intermitted is more apt. Wherefore in sailing
into Russia they are less troubled with winds than in the
British sea, because of the length of the days; but in
Peru under the equinoctial are frequent winds, by reason
of the great inequality of heat, taking turns night and day.

20. In vapours is to be considered both the quantity and
quality. A small quantity engenders weak winds, a mean
or middle store stronger; great store engenders rain, either
calm or accompanied with wind.

21. Vapours out of the sea and rivers, and overflown
marshes, engender far greater quantity of winds than the
exhalations of the earth. But those winds which are en-
gendered on the land and dry places are more obstinate and
last longer, and are for the most part such as are cast down
from above. So that the opinion of the ancients in this is
not altogether unprofitable; but only that it pleased them,
as in a manner dividing the inheritance, to assign rain to
vapours, and to winds exhalations only, which things
sound handsomely, but are vain in effect and substance.

22. Winds brought forth out of the resolutions of snow
lying upon hills are of a mean condition between water and
land winds; but they incline more to water, yet they are
more sharp and moveable.

272 NATURAL HISTORY

23. The dissolution of snow on snowy hills (as we ob-
served before) always brings constant winds from that part.

24. Also yearly northern winds about the rising of the

dogstar, are held to come from the frozen ocean, and those
parts about the arctic circle, where the dissolutions of snow
and ice come late when the summer is far spent.

25. Those masses or mountains of ice which are carried
towards Canada and Greenland do rather breed cold gales
than moveable winds.

26. Winds which arise from chalky and sandy grounds —

are few and dry, and in hotter countries they are sultry,
smoky, and scorching.

27. Winds made of sea vapours do easilier turn back into —

rain, the water redemanding and claiming its right; and if
this be not granted them they presently mix with air, and
so are quiet. But terrestrial, smoky, and unctuous vapours
are both hardlier dissolved and ascend higher, and are more
provoked in their motion, and oftentimes penetrate the

middle region of the air, and some of them are matter of

fiery meteors.

28. It is reported here in England, that in those days
that Gascoine was under our jurisdiction, there was a pe-
tition offered to the king by his subjects of Bordeaux, and
the confines thereof, desiring him to forbid the burning of
heath in the counties of Sussex and Southampton, which
bred a wind towards the end of April which killed their
vines.

29. The meeting of winds, if they be strong, bring forth
vehement and whirling winds; if they be soft and moist,
they produce rain, and lay the wind.

30. Winds are allayed and restrained five ways. When
the air, overburthened and troubled, is freed by the vapours
contracting themselves into rain; or when vapours are dis-
persed and subtilized, whereby they are mixed with the
air, and agree fairly with it, and they live quietly ; or when
vapours or fogs are exalted and carried upon high, so that
they cause no disturbance until they be thrown down from
the middle region of the air, or do penetrate it; or when
vapours, gathered into clouds, are carried away into other
countries, by other winds blowing on high, so that for them
there is peace in those countries which they fly beyond;
or, lastly, when the winds, blowing from their nurseries,
languish through a long voyage, finding no new matter to
feed on, and so their vehemency forsakes them, and they
do as it were expire and die.

OF WINDS. 973

31. Rain for the most part allayeth winds, especially
those which are stormy; as winds contrariwise oftentimes
keep off rain.

32. Winds do contract themselves into rain (which is
the first of the five, and the chiefest means of allaying
them) either being burthened by the burthen itself, when
the vapours are copious, or by the contrary motions of
winds, so they be calm and mild; or by the opposition of
mountains and promontories which stop the violence of the
winds, and by little and little turn them against themselves ;
or by extreme colds, whereby they are condensed and
thickened.

33. Smaller and lighter winds do commonly rise in the
morning, and go down with the sun, the condensation of
the night air being sufficient to receive them; for air will
endure some kind of compression without stirring or tumult.

34, It is thought that the sound of bells will disperse
lightning and thunder: in winds it hath not been observed.

Momnition. ‘Take advice from the place in prognostics of
winds; for there is some connexion of causes and signs.

35. Pliny relates, that the vehemence of a whirlwind
Bey be allayed by sprinkling of vinegar in the encounter
of it.

The Bounds of Winds.
To the sixteenth, seventeenth, and eighteenth articlcs,

1. It is reported of Mount Athos, and likewise of Olym-
pus, that the priests would write in the ashes of the sacri-
fices which lay upon the altars, built on the tops of those
hills, and when they returned the year following (for the
offerings were annual) they found the same letters undis-
turbed and uncancelled, though those altars stood not in
any temple but in the open air. Whereby it was manifest,
in such a height there had neither fallen rain nor wind

own.

2. They say that on the top of the Peak of Teneriffe,
and on the Andes, betwixt Peru and Chili, snow lieth upon
the borders and sides of the hills, but that on the tops of
them there is nothing but a quiet and still air, hardly
breatheable by reason of its tenuity, which also with a kind
of acrimony pricks the eyes and orifice of the stomach, be-
getting in some a desire to vomit, and in others a flushing
and redness.

_ 38. Vapoury winds seem not in any great height, though
it be probable that some of them ascend higher than most

VOL, XIV. T

274 NATURAL HISTORY

clouds. Hitherto of the height ; now we must consider of
the latitude. :

4, It is certain that those spaces which winds take up
are very various, sometimes they are very large, sometimes
little and narrow: winds have been known to have taken
up a hundred miles space with a few hours difference.

5. Spacious winds (if they be of the free kind) are for
the most part vehement and not soft, and more lasting ; for
they will last almost four and twenty hours. They are
likewise not so much inclined to rain. Straight or narrow
winds, contrariwise, are either soft or stormy, and always
short.

6. Fixed and stayed winds are itinerary or travelling,
and take up very large spaces.

7. Stormy winds do not extend themselves into any large
spaces, though they always go beyond the bounds of the
storm itself.

8. Sea winds always blow within narrower spaces than
earth winds, as may sometimes be seen at sea, namely, a
pretty fresh gale in some part of the water (which may be
easily perceived by the crisping of it) when there is a calm,
as smooth as glass every where else.

9. Small whirlwinds (as we said before) will sometimes
play before men as they are riding, almost like wind out of a
pair of bellows. So much of the latitude; now we must see
concerning the lastingness,

10. The vehement winds will last longer at sea, by reason
of the sufficient quantity of vapours; at land they will
hardly last above a day and a half.

11. Very soft winds will not blow constantly, neither at
sea, nor upon the land above three days.

12. The south wind is not only more lasting than the
west (which we set down in another place), but likewise
what wind soever it be that begins to blow in the morning,
useth to be more durable and lasting than that which
begins to blow at night.

13. It is certain that winds do rise, and increase by de-

a

grees (unless they be mere storms), but they allay sooner, —

sometimes as it were in an instant.

Successions of Winds.

To the nineteenth, twentieth, and twenty-first articles.

1. If the wind doth change according to the motion of |
the sun, that is, from east to south, from south to west, —
from west to north, from the north to the east, it doth not —
return often, or if it doth, it doth it but for a short time.

OF WINDS. 275

But if it go contrary to the motion of the sun, that is, from
the east. to the north, from the north to the west, from the
west to the south, and from the south to the east, for the
most part it is restored to its first quarter, at least before
it hath gone round its whole compass and circuit.

2. If rain begin first, and the wind begins to blow after-
wards, that wind will outlast the ram; but if the wind
blow first, and then is allayed by the rain, the wind for the
most part will not rise again; and if it does, there ensues
a new rain. |

3. If winds do blow variously for a few hours, and as it
were to make a trial, and afterward begin to blow con-
stantly, that wind shall continue for many days.

4. If the south wind begin to blow two or three days,
sometimes the north wind will blow presently after it.
But if the north wind blows as many days, the south wind
will not blow, until the wind have blown a little from the
east.

5. When the year is declining, and winter begins after
autumn is past, if the south wind blows in the beginning
of winter, and after it comes the north wind, it will be a
frosty winter; but if the north wind blow in the beginning
of winter, and the south wind come after, it will be a mild
and warm winter.

6. Pliny quotes Eudoxus, to show that the order of
winds returns after every four years, which seems not to be
true, for revolutions are not so quick. This indeed hath
been by some men’s diligence observed, that greatest and

most notable seasons (for heat, snow, frost, warm winters,

and cold summers) for the most part return after the revo-
lution of five and thirty years.

The Motion of the Winds.

To the twenty-second, twenty-third, twenty-fourth, twenty-fifth, twenty-sixth,
and twenty-seventh articles. Connexion.

Men talk as if the wind were some body of itself, and by
its own force did drive and agitate the air. Also when the
wind changes its place, they talk as if it did transport
itself into another place. This is the vulgar’s opinion; yet
the philosophers themselves apply no remedy thereunto,
but they likewise stammer at it, and do not any way con-
tradict and oppose these errors. ;

1. We must therefore inquire concerning the raising of
the motion of the winds, and of the direction of it, having

276 NATURAL HISTORY

already inquired of the local beginnings; and of those winds
which have their beginning of motion in their first impul-
sion, as in those which are cast down from above or blow
out of the earth, the raising of their motion is manifest:
others descend below their own beginnings; others ascend,
and being resisted by the air, become voluminous, espe-
cially near the angles of their violence ; but of those which
are engendered every where in this inferior air (which are
the frequentest of all the winds), the inquisition seems to
be somewhat obscure, although it be a vulgar thing, as we
have set down in the commentation under the eighth article.

2. We found likewise an image or representation of this
in that close tower which we spake of before ; for we varied
that trial three ways. The first was that which we spake
of before ; namely, a fire of clear burning coals. The second

was a kettle of seething water, the fire being set away, and

then the motion of the cross of feathers was more slow and
dull. The third was with both fire and kettle; and then
the agitation of the cross of feathers was very vehement,
so that sometimes it would whirl up and down, as if it had
been in a petty whirlwind, the water yielding store of va-
pours, and the fire which stood by it dissipating and dis-
persing them.

3. So that the chief cause of exciting motion in the winds

is the overcharging of the air by a new addition of air
engendered by vapours. Now we must see concerning the
direction of the motion, and of the whirling, which is a
change of the direction.

4. The nurseries and food of the winds doth govern their
progressive motion; which nurseries and feedings are like
unto the springs of rivers; namely, the places where there

are great store of vapours, for there is the native country of |

the winds. Then when they have found a current, where

the air makes no resistance (as water when it finds a falling

way), then whatsoever semblable matter they find by the |
way, they take into their fellowship, and mix it with their |
currents even as rivers do. So that the winds blow always |

from that side where their nurseries are which feed them.

5. Where there are no notable nurseries in any certain |
place, the winds stray very much, and do easily change |
their current, as in the middle of the sea, and large spacious ~

fields. |

6. Where there are great nurseries of the winds in one |
place, but in the way of its progress it hath but small ad-
ditions, there the winds blow strongly in their beginnings, |

OF WINDS. poh §

and by little and little they allay; and contrariwise, where
they find good store of matter to feed on by the way, they
are weak in the beginning, but gather strength by the way.

7. There are moveable nurseries for the winds, namely,
in the clouds, which many times are carried far away from
the nurseries of vapours of which those clouds were made,
by winds blowing high; then the nursery of the wind be-
gins to be in that place where the clouds do begin to be

dissolved into wind.

8. But the whirling of winds does not happen, because
the wind which blows at first transports itself, but because
either that is allayed and spent, or brought into order by
another wind ; and all this business depends on the various
placings of the nurseries of winds, and variety of times,
when vapours issuing out of these nurseries are dissolved.

9. If there be nurseries of winds on contrary parts, as
one nursery on the south, another on the north side, the
strongest wind will prevail; neither will there be peer |
winds, but the stronger wind will blow continually, thoug
it be somewhat dulled and tamed by the weaker wind, as
it is in rivers, when the flowing of the sea comes in; for
the sea’s motion prevails, and is the only one, but it is
somewhat curbed by the motion of the river; and if it so
happen that one of those contrary winds, namely, that
which was the strongest be allayed, then presently the
contrary will blow, frém that side where it blew before, but
lay hidden under the force and power of the greater.

10. As for example, if the nursery be at the north-east,
the north-east wind will blow; but if there be two nurseries
of winds, namely, another in the north, those winds for
some tract of way will blow severally, but after the angle
of confluence where they come together they will blow to
the north-east, or with some inclination, according as the
other nursery shall prove stronger.

1]. If there be a nursery of wind on the north side,
which may be distant from some country twenty miles,
and is the stronger; another on the east side, which is dis-
tant some ten miles, and is weaker; yet the east wind shall
blow for some hours, and a while after (namely, when its
journey is ended) the north wind.

12. If the northern wind blow, and some hill stands in
the way of it on the west side, a little while after the north-
east wind will blow, compounded by the original, and that
which is beaten back again.

13. If there be a nursery of winds in the earth on the

278 NATURAL HISTORY

northern side, and the breath thereof be carried directl
upward, and it find a cold cloud on the west side, rials
turns it off the contrary way, there will blow a north-east
wind.

14, Monition. Nurseries of winds in sea and land are
constant, so that the spring and beginning of them may
be the better perceived; but the nurseries of winds in the
clouds are moveable, so that in one place there is matter
furnished for the winds, and they are formed in another,
which makes the direction of motion in winds to be more
confused and uncertain.

Those things we have produced for example’s sake, the
like are after the like manner; and hitherto of the direction
of the motion of winds: now we must see concerning the
longitude, and as it were the itinerary or journey of the
winds, though it may seem we have already inquired of
this under the notion of the latitude of winds; for latitude
may by unlearned men also be taken for longitude, if winds
weeny more space laterally than they go forward in lon-

itude.
: 14. If it be true that Columbus could upon the coasts of
Portugal judge of the continent of America by the constant
winds from the west, truly the winds can travel a long
journey.

15. If it be true that the dissolution of snows about the
frozen seas and Scandia do excite and raise northerly winds
in Italy and Greece, &c. in the dogdays, surely these are
long journeys.

16. It hath not yet been observed how much sooner a
storm does arrive, according to the way it comes (as for
example, if it be an eastern wind), how much sooner it
comes from the east, and how much later from the west.
And so much concerning the motion of winds in their pro-
gression or going forward: now we must see concerning
the undulation or swelling of winds.

17. The undulation or swelling of winds is done in a few
moments, so that a wind will (though it be strong) rise
and fall by turns, at the least a hundred times in an hour;
whereby it appears that the violence of winds is unequal;
for neither rivers, though swift, nor currents in the sea,
though strong, do rise in waves, unless the blowing of wind
be joined thereunto, neither hath the swelling of winds an
equality in itself; for like unto the pulse of one’s hand,
sometimes it beats, and sometimes it intermits.

18. The undulation or swelling of the air differs from the _

OF WINDS. 279

swelling of waters into waves in this, that in waters.after
the waves are risen on high, they of themselves, and their
own accord, do again fall to the place of them ; whence it
comes that (whatsoever poets say when they aggravate tem-
pests, namely, that the waves are raised up to heaven, and
again sink down to hell) the descent of the waves do not
precipitate much below the plane and superficies of the
water. But in the swelling of the air, where the motion
of gravity or weight is wanting, the air is thrust down
and raised almost in an equal manner. And thus much of
undulation. Now we must inquire of the motion of conflict
or striving.

19. The conflicts of winds and compounded conflicts we
have partly inquired already. It is plain that winds are
ubiquitary, especially the mildest of them. Which is like-
wise manifest by this, that there are few.days and hours
wherein some gales do not blow in free places, and that in-
constantly and variously enough. For winds which do not
proceed from greater nurseries are vagabond and voluble,
as it were, playing one with the other, sometimes driving
forward, and sometimes flying back.

20. It hath been seen sometimes at sea, that winds have
come from contrary parts together, which was plainly to
be perceived by the perturbation of the water on both sides,
and the calmness in the middle between them; but after
those contrary winds have met, either there hath followed
a general calm of the water every where, namely, when the
winds have broken and quelled one another equally ; or the
perturbation of the water hath continued, namely, when
the stronger wind hath prevailed. |

21. It is certain that, in the mountains of Peru, it hath
often chanced that the wind at one time hath blown on the
tops of the hills one way, and in the valleys the clean con-
trary way.

22. It is likewise certain here with us, that the clouds
are carried one way, when the wind near us hath blown the
contrary way.

23. It is likewise certain, that sometimes the higher
clouds will outfly the lower clouds, so that they will go
diverse, yea, and contrary ways, as it were in contrary
currents. 3

24. It is likewise certain, that sometimes in the higher
part of the air winds have been neither distracted nor
moved forward; when here below they have been driven

forward with a mad kind: of violence, for the space of half
a mile.

280 NATURAL HISTORY

25. And it is likewise certain, contrariwise, that here

below the air hath been very still, when above the clouds
have been carried with a fresh and merry gale; but that
happens more seldom.

An indirect experiment.

Likewise in waves sometimes the upper water is swifter,
sometimes the lower; and sometimes there are (but that is
seldom) several currents of water, of that which is upper-
most, and that which heth beneath.

26. Nor are Virgil’s testimonies altogether to be rejected,
he being not utterly unskilful in natural philosophy.

Together rush the east and south-east wind,

Nor doth wave calling south-west stay behind.
And again:

I all the winds have seen their battles join.

We have considered of the motions of winds, in the na-
ture of things: we must now consider their motions in
human engines; and, first of all, in the sails of ships.

The Motion of Winds in the Sails of Ships.

1. In our greatest Britain ships (for we have chosen those
for our pattern) there are four masts, and sometimes five,
set up one behind the other, in a direct line drawn through
the middle of the ship. Which masts we will name thus:

2. The mainmast, which stands in the middle of the
ship; the foremast, the mizenmast (which is sometimes
double), and the spritmast.

3. Each mast consists of several pieces, which may be
lifted up, and fashioned with several knots and joints, or
taken away; some have three of them, some only two.

4. The spritsail-mast from the lower joint lies bending
over the sea, from that it stands upright; all the other
masts stand upright.

5. Upon these masts hang ten sails, and when there be
two mizenmasts twelve; the mainmast and foremast have
three tiers of sails, which we will call the mainsail, the top-
sail,.and the main-topsail; the rest have but two, wanting
the main-topsail.

6. The sails are stretched out across, near the top of
every joint of the mast, by certain beams which we call
yards, to which the upper parts of the sails are fastened, the
lower parts are fastened with ropes at each corner; the main-
sails to the sides of the ship, top and main-topsails to the
yards which are next below them.

OF WINDS. 281

_ 7, The yard of every mast hangs across, only the yards
of the mizenmasts hang sloping, one end up and the other
down, in the rest they hang straight across the masts like
unto the letter T.

8. The mainsails of the mainmast, foremast, and boar-
sprit, are of a quadrangular parallelogram form; the top
and main-topsails somewhat sharp, and growing narrow at
the top; but the top mizensails are sharp, the lower or
mainsails triangular.

9. In a ship of eleven hundred tons, which was one hun-
dred and twelve feet long in the keel, and forty in breadth
in the hold; the mainsail of the mainmast was two and
forty feet deep and eighty-seven feet broad. _

10. The topsail of the same mast was fifty feet deep, and
eighty-four feet broad at the bottom, and forty-two at the
top.

TL. The main-topsail was seven and twenty feet deep, and
two and forty broad at the bottom, and one and twenty at
the top.

12. The foremast mainsail was forty feet and a half deep,
and seventy-two feet broad.

13. The topsail was six and forty feet and a half deep,
and sixty-nine feet broad at the bottom, and six and thirty
at the top.

14, The main-topsail was four and twenty feet deep, six
ot thirty feet broad at the bottom, and eighteen feet at
the top.

15. The mizen-mainsail was on the upper part of the
yard one and fifty feet broad, in that part which was joined
to the yard seventy-two feet, the rest ending in a sharp
point.

16. The topsail was thirty feet deep, fifty-seven feet broad
at the bottom, and thirty feet at the top.

17. If there be two mizenmasts, the hindermost sails are
less than the foremost about the fifth part.

18. The mainsail of the boarsprit was eight and twenty
feet deep and a half, and sixty feet broad.

19. The topsail five and twenty feet and a half deep, and
sixty feet broad at the bottom, and thirty at the top.

20. The proportions of masts and sails do vary, not only
according to the bigness of ships, but also according to the
several uses for which they are built: some for fighting,
some for merchandise, some for swiftness, &c. But the
proportion of the dimension of sails is no way proportioned
to the number of tons whereof the ships consist, seeing a

282 NATURAL HISTORY

ship of five hundred tons or thereabout may bear almost as
large a sail as the other we speak of, which was almost as
big again. Whence it proceeds that lesser ships are far
swifter and speedier than great ones, not only by reason of
their lightness, but also by reason of the largeness of their
sails, in respect of the body of the ship; for to continue
that proportion in bigger ships would be too vast and im-
possible a thing. |

21. Each sail being stretched out at the top, and only
tied by the corners at the bottom, the wind must needs
cause it to swell, especially about the bottom where it is
slacker. .

22. The swelling is far greater in the lower sails than in
the upper, because they are not only parallelograms, and
the other more pointed at the top, but also because the ex-
tent of the yard doth so far exceed the breadth of the
ship's sides to which they are fastened, that of necessity,
because of the looseness, there must be a great receipt for
the wind ; so that in the great ship which we proposed for
an example, the swelling of the sail in a direct wind may
be nine or ten feet inward. !

23. By the same reason it also happens, that all sails
which are swelled by the wind, do gather themselves into
a kind of arch or bow, so that of necessity much wind must
slip through ; insomuch, that in such a ship as we made
mention of, that arch may be as high as a man.

24. But in the triangular sail of the mizenmast there

must of necessity be a lesser swelling than in the quadran--

gular; as well because that figure is less capable, as also
because that in the quadrangular three sides are slack and

loose, but in the triangular only two, so that the wind is _

more sparingly received.

25. The motion of the wind in sails, the nearer it comes |
to the beak of the ship, the stronger it is, and sets the ship |

more forward, partly because it is in a place where, because

of the sharpness of the beak-head, the waves are easilier cut —
in sunder; but, chiefly, because the motion at the beak
draws on the ship, the motion from the stern and back part |

of the ship doth but drive it. |

26. The motion of the winds in the sails of the upper |

tier advances more than that in the lower tier, because a

violent motion is most violent when it is farthest removed —
from resistance, as in the wings and sails of windmills; —
but there is danger of drowning or overturning the ship: —

wherefore those sails are made narrower at the top, that —

OF WINDS. , 283

they should not take in too much wind, and are chiefly
made use of when there is not much wind.

27, Sails being placed in a direct line, one behind the
other, of necessity those sails which stand behind must
steal the wind from the foremost when the wind blows fore-
right ; wherefore, if they be all spread out at once, the
force of the wind hath scarce any power but in the main-
mast sails, with little help of the lower sails of the boar-
sprit.

POS, The best and most convenient ordering of sails, in a
direct wind, is to have the two lower sails of the foremast
hoisted up, for there (as we said before) the motion is most
effectual, let also the topsail of the mainmast be hoisted
up, for there will be so much room left under it, that there
may be wind sufficient for the foresails, without any notable
stealing of the wind from them.

29. By reason of the hinder sails stealing of the wind
away from the foresails, we sail swifter with a side wind
than with a fore wind. For with a side wind all the sails
may be made use of, for they turn their sides to one another,
and so hinder nor rob not one another.

30, Likewise, when a side wind blows, the sails are
stiffer stretched out against the wind, which somewhat
restrains the wind, and sends it that way as it should blow,
whereby it gains some strength. But that wind is most
advantageous which blows cornerly between a fore wind
and a side wind. |

31. The lower boarsprit-sail can hardly ever be unuseful,
for it cannot be robbed from gathering the wind which
way soever it doth blow, either about the ship sides, or
under the rest of the sails.

32. There is considerable* in the motion of winds in ships,
both the impulsion and direction of them. For that direc-
tion, which is made by the helm, doth not belong to the
present inquisition, but only as it hath a connexion with the
motion of the winds in the sails.

Connexion. As the motion of impulsion or driving for-
ward is in force at the beak, so is the motion of direction
m the poop; therefore, for that the lower mizenmast sail
is of greatest concernment, for it is, as it were, an assistant
to the helm.

33. Seeing the compass is divided into two and thirty
points, so that the semicircles of it are sixteen points, there

* i, e. to be considered.

284 NATURAL HISTORY.

may be a progressive sailing (without any casting aboard,
which is used when the wind is clean contrary) though of
the sixteen parts there be but six favourable, and the other
ten contrary. But that kind of sailing depends much upon
the lower sail of the mizenmast. For whilst the adverse
parts of the wind being more powerful and not to be opposed
by the helm alone, would turn the other sails, and the ship
itself, against its intended course, that sail being stiffly
stretched, favouring the helm, and strengthening its motion,
turns the beak into the way of its course.

34, All manner of wind in the sails doth somewhat bur-
den and depress the ship, and so much the more when it
blows most from above. So that in greatest storms, first
they lower their yards and take away the upper sails, and if
need be all the rest, cut down the masts, cast their goods
into the sea, and their ordinance, &c, to lighten the ship
and make it swim, and give way to the waves. .

35. By this motion of the winds in the sails of ships (if
it be a merry and prosperous gale) a merchant’s ship may
sail sixscore Italian miles in four and twenty hours; for
there are certain packet boats which are built a purpose for
swiftness (that are called caravels), which will go further.
But when the wind is clean contrary, they fly to this last
refuge, and a very weak one, to go on their course, namely,
to proceed sideway, as the wind will suffer them, out of
their course, then turn their way again towards their course,

and so proceed in an angular way. By which progression |
(which is less than creeping, for serpents creep on by)

crooked turnings, but they make angles) they may in four
and twenty hours go fifteen miles’ journey.

Greater Observations.

1. This motion of winds in sails of ships hath three chief _
heads ‘and fountains of its impulsion or driving forward, |
from whence it flows and derives; whence also precepts —

may be taken to increase and strengthen it.
2. The first spring comes from the quantity of the wind
which is received; for questionless more wind helps more
than less ; wherefore the quantity of wind must be carefully
procured, which will be done if; like wise householders, we
be good husbands, and take care nothing be stolen from

us. Wherefore we must be very careful that no wind may —

be lost.

3. The wind blows either above the ships or below them, | |
to the very superficies and surface of the sea; and as pro- —
vident men use to look most after the least things (for the —

7

OF WINDS& , 285

greater no man can choose but look after), so we will first
look after these lower winds, which questionless cannot
perform so much as the higher.

4. As concerning the winds which blow chiefly about the
sides of the ships, and under their sails, it is the office of
the main boarsprit-sail, which lies low and sloping, to
gather them into it, that there may be no waste nor loss of
wind; and this of itself does good, and hinders not the
wind which fills the other sails. And about this I do not
see what can be done more by the industry of man, unless
they should perchance fix such low sails out of the middle
of the ship, like wings or feathers, two on each side when
the wind blows right.

5. But concerning the bewaring of being robbed, which
happens when the hinder sails (in a fore-right wind) steal
the wind away from the foresails (for in a side wind all the
sails are set a work), I know not what can be added to the
eare man hath already taken to prevent it, unless when
there is a fore wind, there may be made a kind of stairs or
scale of sails, that the hindermost sails of the mizenmast
may be the lowest, the middle ones at the mainmast a little
higher, the foremast, at the foremast, highest of all, that
one sail may not hinder but rather help the other, deliver-
ing and passing over the wind from one to another. And
let so much be observed of the first fountain of impulsion.
_ 6. The second fountain of impulsion consists in the man-
ner of striking the sail with the wind, which if through the
contraction of the wind it be acute and swift, will move
more, if obtuse and languishing less.

7. As concerning this, it is of great moment, and much
to the purpose, to let the sails have a reasonable extension
and swelling ; for if they be stretched out stiff, they will,
hike a wall, beat back the wind ; if they be too loose there
will be a weak impulsion.

8. Touching this, human industry hath behaved itself
well in some things, though it was more by chance than
out of any good judgment. For in a side wind they gather
up that part of the sail as much as they can which is oppo-
site against the wind: and by that means they set in the
wind into that part where it should blow. And this they
do and intend. But in the mean season this follows (which
peradventure they do not perceive), that the wind is more
contracted, and strikes more sharply.

9. What may be ‘added to human industry in this, I
cannot perceive, unless the figure of the sails be changed,
and some sails be made which shall not swell round, but

286 NATUBAL HISTORY

like a spur or a triangle, with a mast or piece of timber in
that corner of the top, that they may contract the wind
more sharply, and cut the outward air more powerfully,
And that angle (as we suppose) must not be altogether
sharp, but like a short obtuse triangle, that it may have
some breadth. Neither do we know what good it would
do, if there were as it were a sail made in a sail; if in the
middle of a greater sail there were a kind of a purse, not
altogether loose, of canvass, but with ribs of wood, which
should take up the wind in the middle of the sail, and
bring it into a sharpness. :

10, The third fountain or original of impulsion, is in the

place where the wind hits, and that is twofold; for from
the fore side of the ship the impulsion is easier and stronger
than on the hinder part; and from the upper part of the
mast and sail than from the lower part.

11. Neither seems the industry of man to have been ig-
norant of this, when in a fore-wind their greatest hopes
have been in their foremasts, and in calms they have not
been careless in hoisting up of their topsails. Neither for
the present do we find what may be added to human indus-
try in this point, unless concerning the first we shouid set
up two or three foremasts (the first upright and the rest
sloping) whose sails shall hang downward ; and as for the
second, that the foresails should be enlarged at the top, and
made less sharp than they usually are: But m both we

must take heed of the inconvenience of danger, in sinking |

the ship too much.
The Motion of Winds in other Engines of Man’s

Invention. .

1. The motion of windmills hath no subtilty at all in it:
and yet usually it is not well explained nor demonstrated.
The sails are set right and direct opposite against the wind
which bloweth. One side of the sail lies to the wind, the

other side by little and little bends itself, and gets itself |
away from the wind. But the turning and continuance of |
the motion is always caused by the lower part, namely, that
which is farthest from the wind. But the wind overcasting |
itself against the engine is contracted and restrained by
the four sails, and is constrained to take its way in four | —
spaces. The wind doth not well endure that compression; —
wherefore of necessity it must as it were with its elbow hit | —
the sides of the sails, and so turn them, even as little whirli- i.

gies that children play withal are turned with the fingers.

OF WINDS. 287

2. If the sails were extended even and equally, it would
be doubtful which way the inclination would be, as in the
fall of a staff; but when the nearer side which meets with
the wind casts the violence of it upon the lower side, and
from thence into distances, so that when the lower side
receives the wind, like the palm of the hand, or the sail of
a ship’s boat, presently there is a turning on that side. But
this is to be observed, that the beginning of the motion
proceeds not from the first impulsion, which is direct and
abreast, but from the lateral impulsion, which is after the
compression or straightening of the wind.

3. We made some proofs and trials about this, for the in-
creasing of this motion, as well to be assured we had found
the cause as also for use; feigning an imitation of this
motion, with paper sails, and the wind of a pair of bellows.
We therefore added to the side of the lower sail a fold
turned in from the wind, that the wind being become a
side wind might have somewhat more to beat upon, which
did no good, that fold not so much assisting the percussion
of the wind, as in consequence hindering the cutting of the
air. We placed behind the sails, at some distance, certain
obstacles as broad as the diameter of all the sails, that the
wind being more compressed might hit the stronger; but
this did rather hurt than good, the repercussion dulling
the primary motion. Then we made the sails of a double
breadth, that the wind might be the more restrained, and
there might be a stronger lateral percussion, which at last
proved very well; so that the conversion was caused by a
far milder gale, and did turn a great deal more swiftly.

Mandate. Peradventure this increase of motion might
more conveniently be made by eight sails, than by four,
doubling the breadth, unless too much weight did over-
burthen the motion; which must have trial made of it.

Mandate. Likewise the length of sails doth much con-
duce to the motion. For in wheelings a slight violence
about the circumference is equivalent to a far greater about
the centre. But then this inconvenience follows, that the
longer the sails are the moré distant they are at the top,
and the wind is so much the less straightened. Peradven-
ture the business would go well if the sails were a little
longer and broader towards the top, like the outermost. end
ofan oar. But this we are not sure of.

Monition. If these experiments be made trial of in wind-
mills, care must be taken of the windmill posts, and the
foundations of it; for the more the wind is restrained the

288 NATURAL HISTORY

more it shakes (though it swiftens the motion of the sails)
the whole frame of the mill. |

4. It is reported that in some countries there are coaches
and waggons which move with the wind; but this must
be more diligently looked after. :

Mandate. Chariots moving by virtue of the wind can
be of no use, unless it be in open places and plains; besides,
‘what will be done if the wind allays? It had been better
to have thought of easing the motion of waggons and
coaches by sails, which might be set up and taken down, to
ease the oxen or horses which draw them, rather than to
make a motion by wind alone.

Prognostics of Winds.

To the two and thirtieth article. Connexion.

The more divination useth to be polluted by vanity and
superstition, so much more is the purer part of it to be
received and honoured. But natural divination is some-
times more certain, sometimes more slippery and deceitful,
according to the subject with which it hath to do; for if it
be of a constant and regular nature, it causeth a certain
prediction ; if it be of a variable and irregular nature, it may
make a casual and deceitful one: yet in a various subject
the prediction will hold true if it be diligently regulated,
peradventure it may not hint upon the very moments, but
in the thing itself it will not err much. Likewise for the
times of the event and complement, some predictions will
hit right enough, namely, those which are not gathered
from the causes, but from the thing itself already inchoated

but sooner appearing, in an apt and fitly disposed matter _
than in another, as we said before in the topics concerning |
this two and thirtieth article. We will now therefore set |
forth the prognostics of winds, of necessity intermixing ©
some of rain and fair weather, which could not conveniently |
be separated, remitting the full inquiry of them to their |

proper titles.

1. If the sun appears hollow at its rising, it will the very |

same day yield wind or rain; if it appears as it were a
little hollow, it signifies wind: if deeply hollow, rain.

2. If the sun rises pale, or (as we call it) waterish, it be-
tokens rain; if it set so, it betokens wind.

3. If the body of the sun itself appears at its setting of |
the colour of blood, it foretokens great winds for many days. __
4. If at sunrising its beams appear rather red than yel- |

OF WINDS. 289

low it signifies wind rather than rain, and the like if they
appear so at its setting.

5. If at sunrising or setting its rays appear contracted
or shortened, and do not shine out bright, though the wea-
ther be not cloudy, it signifies rain rather than wind.

6. If before sunrising there appear some rays as forerun-
ners, it signifies both wind and rain.

7. If the sun at its rising diffuses its rays through the
clouds, the middle of the sun remaining still under clouds,
it shall signify rain, especially if those beams break out
downwards, that the sun appears as it were with a beard.
But if the rays break forth out of the middle, or dispersed,
and its exterior body, or the out parts of it, be covered with
clouds, it foreshows great tempests both of wind and rain. —

8. If the sun, when it rises, be encompassed with a circle,
let wind be expected from that side on which the circle
opens. But if the circle fall off all at one time it will be
fair weather. :

9. If at the setting of the sun there appears a white
circle about it, it signifies some small storm the same night ;
if black or darkness, much wind the day following.

10. If the clouds look red at sunrising they are prog-
nostics of wind ; if at sunsetting, of a fair ensuing day.

11. If about the rising of the sun clouds do gather them-
selves about it, they foreshow rough storms that day; but
if they be driven back from the rising towards the setting
of the sun, they signify fair weather.

12. If at sunrising the clouds be dispersed from the sides
of the sun, some southward, and some northward, though
the sky be clear about the sun, it foreshows wind.

13. If the sun goes down in a cloud, it foreshows rain the
next day; butif it rains at sunsetting it is a token of wind
rather. But if the clouds seem to be as it were drawn
towards the sun, it signifies both wind and storms.

14. If clouds at the rising of the sun seem not to encom-
pass it, but to lie over it, as if they were about to eclipse it,
ey foreshow the rising of winds on that side as the clouds
incline. And if they do this about noon, they signify both
wind and rain.

15. If the clouds have encompassed the sun, the less
light they leave it, and the lesser the orb of the sun appears,
so much the more raging shall the tempest be; but if there
appear a double or treble orb, as though there were two or
three suns, the tempest will be so much the more violent
for many days.

VOL, XIV, U

290 : NATURAL HISTORY

16. New moons presage the dispositions of the air; but
especially the fourth rising of it, as if it were a confirmed
new moon. ‘The full moons likewise do presage more than
the days which come after. |

17. By long observation the fifth day of the moon is
feared by mariners for stormy.

18. If the new moon do not appear before the fourth
day, it foreshows a troubled air for the whole month. |

19. If the new moon, at her first appearance, or within
a few days after, have its lower horn obscure or dusky, or
any way blemished, it signifies stormy and tempestuous
days before the full-moon; if it be ill coloured in the
middle, tempests will come about the full of the moon; if
it be so about the upper part of the horn, they will be about
the decreasing of the moon.

20. If at the fourth rising the moon appear bright, with
sharp horns, not lying flat, nor standing upright, but in a
middle kind of posture between both, it promises fair wea-
ther for the most part until the next new moon.

21. If at the same rising it be red, it portends winds; if

dusky or black, rain; but, howsoever, it signifies nothing

beyond the full moon.

22. An upright moon is almost always threatening and
hurtful, but it chiefly portends winds; but if it have blunt
horns, and as it were cut off short, it rather signifies rain.

23. If one horn of the moon be sharp and the other
blunt, it signifies wind; if both be blunt, rain.

24. If a circle or halo appear about the moon, it signifies
rain rather than wind, unless the moon stands directly
within that circle, for then it signifies both.

25. Circles about the moon always foreshow winds on
that side where they break; also a notable shining in some
part of the circle, signifies winds from that part where the
shining is.

26. If the circles about the moon be double or treble,

they foreshow horrible and rough tempests, and especially |

if those circles be not whole, but spotted and divided.

_ 27. Full moons, as concerning the colours and circles,

do in a manner foreshow the same things, as the fourth
rising, but more present, and not so long delayed.

28. Full moons use to be more clear than the other ages
of the moon, and in winter use to be far colder.

29. The moon appearing larger at the going down of the |

sun, if it be splendent and not dusky, betokens fair weather
for many days.

OF WINDS. 29]

30. Winds almost continually follow the eclipses of the
moon, and fair weather the eclipses of the sun; rain comes
after neither.

31. From the conjunctions of any of the planets, but
only the sun, you may expect winds both before and after ;
from their conjunctions with the sun, fair weather.

32. At the rising of the Pleiades and Hyades come
showers of rain, but calm ones; after the rising of Arcturus
and Orion, tempests. _

33. Returning and shooting stars (as we call them) sig-
nify winds to come from that place whence they run, or
are shot; but if they fly from several, or contrary parts, it
is a sign of great approaching storms of wind and rain.

34. When such little stars as those which are called
Aselli are not seen generally all over the sky, it foreshows
great tempests and rain within some few days; but if they
be seen in some places, and not in other some, it foreshows
winds only, and that suddenly.

35. The sky, when it is all over bright, in a new moon,
or at the fourth rising of it, portends fair weather for many
days; if it be all over dark, it foreshows rain, if partly
dark, and partly fair, it portends wind of that side where
the darkness is seen; but if it grow dark on a sudden,
without either cloud or mist to dim the brightness of the
stars, there are great and rough tempests a breeding.

36. If an entire circle encloseth a planet, or any of the
ereater stars, it foreshows wind; if it be a broken circle,
wind from those parts where the circle is deficient.

37. When the thunder is more than the lightnings, there
will be great winds; but if the lightnings be thick amidst
a thundering, it foreshows thick showers, with great

rops.

38. Morning thunders signify wind, midday thunders
rain.

39. Bellowing thunders, which do as it were pass along,
presage winds, and those which make a sharp and unequal
noise, presage storms both of wind and rain.

40. When it lightens in a clear sky, winds are at hand,
and rain from the part where it lightens; but if it lightens
in diverse parts, there will follow cruel and horrid tempests.

41. If it lightens in the cold quarters of the heavens,
namely, the east and north, hail will follow; if in the
warmer, namely, south and west, we shall have rain and a
warm sky.

42. Great heats after the summer solstice, and commonly

292 NATURAL HISTORY

with thunder and lightning, and if those come not, there
will be wind and rain for many days.

43. The globe of flame, which the ancients called Castor,
which is seen by mariners and seafaring men at sea, if there
be but one, presages a cruel tempest (Castor is the dead
brother), and much more if it stick not close to the mast,
but dances up and down ;-but if they be twins (and Pollux
the living brother be present), and that when the tempest
is high, it is a good presage; but if there be three (namely,
if Helen, the plague of all things, come in), it will be a
more cruel tempest: so that one seems to show the indi-
gested matter of the storm; two, a digested and ripe matter;
three or more, an abundance that will hardly be dispersed.

44. If we see the clouds drive very fast when it is a clear
sky, we must look for winds from that way from which the
clouds are driven; but if they wheel and tumble up toge-
ther, when the sun draws near to that part in which they
are tumbled up-together, they will begin to scatter and
sever; and if they part most towards the north, it betokens
wind ; if towards the south, rain.

45. If at sunsetting there arise black and dark clouds,
they presage rain; if against the sun, namely, in the east,
the same night; if near the sun in the west, the next day,
with winds. .

46. The clearing of a cloudy sky, if it begins against the
wind which then blows, signifies clear fair weather; with
the wind it betokens nothing, but the thing remains un-
certain.

47. There are sometimes seen several as it were chambers,
or joined stories of clouds one above the other (so as Gil-
bertus affirms, he hath seen five of them together) and
always the blackest are lowermost, though sometimes it
appears otherwise, because the whitest do more allure the
sight. A double conjunction of stories, if it be thick, shows
approaching rain (especially if the lower cloud seem as it
were big with child); more conjunctions presage continu-
ance of rain.

48. If clouds spread abroad like fleeces of wool here and
there, they foreshow tempests; but if they lie one a top of
another, like scales or tiles, they presage drought and clear
weather. }

49. Feathered clouds, like to the boughs of a palm tree,
or the flowers of a rainbow, are prognostics of present rain, |
or immediately to follow.

50. When hills and hillocks look as though they.wore | —

OF WINDS. 293

caps, by reason of the clouds lying upon them, and encom-
passing them, it presages imminent tempests.

51. Amber, or gold colour clouds before sunsetting, that
have as it were gilded helms or borders, after the sun be-
gins to be quite down, foreshow fair clear weather.

52. Grayish, and as it were clay-coloured clouds, show
that rain with wind are drawing on.

53. Some petty cloud showing itself suddenly, having not
been seen before, and all the sky clear about it, especially
if it be in the west, and about noon, shows there is a storm
a coming.

54. Clouds and mists ascending, and going upward,
presage rain, and that this be done suddenly, so that they
be as it were sucked up, they presage rain, but if they fall
and reside in the valleys, they presage fair weather.

55. A big cloud growing white, which the ancients called
a white tempest, in summer is a forerunner of small hail,
like comfits, in winter, snow. | ve

56. A fair and clear autumn presages a windy winter;
a windy winter, a rainy spring; a rainy spring, a clear
summer ; a clear summer, a windy autumn. So that the
year (as the proverb goes) is seldom its own debtor, and
the same order of seasons will scarce happen two years
together. :

57. Fires upon the hearth when they look paler than
they are accustomed, and make a murmuring noise within
themselves, do presage tempests. And if the flame rises
bending and turning, it signifies wind chiefly ; and when
the snuffs of lamps and candles grow like mushrooms with
broad heads, it is a sign of rainy weather.

_ 58. Coals shining bright, and sparkling overmuch, sig-
nify wind.

59. When the superficies of the sea is calm and smooth
in the harbour, and yet murmurs within itself, though it
doth not swell, signifies wind. ;

60. The shores resounding in a calm, and the sound of
the sea itself, with a clear noise, and a certain echo, heard
plainer and further than ordinary, presages winds.

61. If in a calm and smooth sea we espy froth here and
there, or white circles or bubbles of water, they are prog-
nostics of winds; and if these presages be very apparent,
they foreshow rough tempests.

62. If in a rough sea there appear a shining froth (which
my call sea-lungs), it foreshows a lasting tempest for many

ays. ,

994 NATURAL HISTORY

63. If the sea swell silently, and rises higher than ordinary
within the harbour, or the tide come in sooner than it uses
to do, it foretells wind.

64. Sound from the hills, and the murmur of woods
growing louder, and a noise in open champion fields, por-
tends wind. Also a prodigious murmuring of the element,
without thunder, for the most part presages winds.

65. Leaves and straws playing on the ground, without
any breath of wind that can be felt, and the down of plants
flying about, feathers swimming and playing upon the water,
signify that wind is near at hand.

66. Waterfowls flying at one another, and flying toge-
ther in flocks, especially seamews and gulls, flying from
_ the sea and lakes, and hastening to the banks and shores,
especially if they make a noise and play upon dry land,
they are prognostics of winds, especially if they do so in
the morning.

67. But, contrariwise, seafowls going to the water, and
beating with their wings, chattering and bathing themselves,
especially the crow, are all presages of storms, |

68. Duckers and ducks cleanse their feathers with their
bills against wind ; but geese with their importunate crying
call for rain.

69. A hern flying high, so that it sometimes flies over a
low cloud, signifies wind; but kites, when they fly high,
foreshow fair weather.

70. Crows, as it were, barking after a sobbing manner,
if they continue in it, do presage winds, but if they catch-
ingly swallow up their voice again, or croak a long time to-
gether, it signifies that we shall have some showers.

71. A chattering owl was thought by the ancients to
foretell change of weather; if it were fair, rain; if cloudy,
fair weather. But with us the owl making a clear and
free noise, for the most part signifies fair weather, especially
in winter. |

72. Birds perching in trees, if they fly to their nests, and
give over feeding betimes, it presages tempest. But the
hern standing, as it were, sad and melancholy upon the
sand, or a crow walking up and down, do presage wind
only.

73, Dolphins playing in a calm sea are thought to pre-
sage wind from that way they come; and if they play and
throw up water when the sea is rough, they presage fair
weather. And most kinds of fishes swimming on the top of
the water, and sometimes leaping, do prognosticate wind.

OF WINDS. | 295

74, Upon the approach of wind, swine will be so terrified
and disturbed, and use such strange actions, that country
people say that creature only can see the wind, and perceive
the horridness of it. i

75. A little before the wind spiders work and spin care-
fully, as if they prudently forestalled the time, knowing that
in windy weather they cannot work.

76. Before rain, the sound of bells is heard further off ;
but before wind it is heard more unequally, drawing near
and going further off, as it doth when the wind blows
really.

77. Pliny affirms for a certain, that three-leaved grass
creeps together, and raises its leaves against a storm.

78. He says likewise that vessels, which food is put into,
will leave a kind of sweat in cupboards, which presage
cruel storms.

Monition. Seeing rain and wind have almost a common
matter, and seeing always before rain there is a certain con-
densation of the air, caused by the new air received into
the old, as it appears by the sounding of the shores, and
the high flight of herns, and other things; and seeing the
wind likewise thickens (but afterward in rain the air is more
drawn together, and in winds contrariwise it is enlarged),
of necessity winds must have many prognostics common
with the rain. Whereof advise with the prognostics of rain,
under their own title.

Imitations of Winds.
To the three and thirtieth article. Connexion.

If men could be persuaded not to fix their contemplations
_ overmuch upon a propounded subject, and reject others, as
it were, by the by; and that they would not subtilize
about that subject in infinitum, and for the most part un-
profitably, they would not be seized with such a stupor as
they are; but transferring their thoughts, and discoursing,
would find many things at a distance, which near at hand
are hidden. So that as in the civil law, so we must likewise
in the law of nature, we must carefully proceed to semblable
things, and such as have a conformity between them.

1. Bellows with men are AZolus his bags, out of which
one may take as much as he needeth. And likewise spaces
between, and openings of hills, and crooks of buildings, are
but, as it were, large bellows. Bellows are most useful
either to kindle fire or for musical organs. The manner of

296 NATURAL HISTORY

the working of bellows is by sucking in of the air, to shun
vacuity (as they say), and to send it out by compression.

2. We also use hand fans to make a wind, and to cool,
only by driving forward of the air softly.

3. The cooling of summer rooms we spake of in answer
to the ninth article. There may other more curious means
be found, especially if the air be drawn in somewhere after
the manner of bellows, and let out at another place; but
those which are now in use have relation only to mere com-
pression.

4. The breath in man’s microcosmos, and in other ani-
mals, do very well agree with the winds in the greater
world ; for they are engendered by humours, and alter with
moisture as wind and rain doth, and are dispersed and blow
freer by a greater heat. And from them that observation

is to be transferred to the winds, namely, that breaths are—

engendered of matter that yields a tenacious vapour, not
easy to be dissolved ; as beans, pulse, and fruits; which is
so likewise in greater winds.

5. In the distilling of vitriol and other minerals which
are most windy, they must have great and large receptacles,
otherwise they will break.

6. Wind composed of nitre and gunpowder, breaking out
and swelling, the flame doth not only imitate but also
exceed winds, which blow abroad in the world, unless they
be such as are made by thunder.

7. But the forces of it are pressed in, as in human en-
gines, as guns, mines, and powder houses set on fire. But
it hath not yet been tried whether in open air, a great heap
of gunpowder set on fire would raise a wind for certain
hours, by the commotion of the air.

8. There lies hidden a flatuous and expansive spirit in
quicksilver, so that it doth (in some men’s opinions) imitate
gunpowder, and a little of it mixed with gunpowder will
make the powder stronger. Likewise the chymists speak
the same of gold, that being prepared some way, it will
break out dangerously like to thunder; but these things I
never tried.

A greater Observation.

The motions of winds is for most things seen as it were
in a lookingglass, in the motion of waters.

Great winds are inundations of the air, as we see inun-
dations of waters both through the augmentation of the
quantity. As waters either descend from above, or spring

OF WINDS. 297

out of the earth, so some winds are cast down, and some
rise up. As sometimes in rivers there are contrary motions,
one of the flowing of the sea, the other of the current of
the river, yet both become one motion, by the prevailing of
the flood ; so when contrary winds blow the greater subdues
the lesser. As in the currents of the sea, and of some
rivers, it sometimes falls out, that the waves above go con-
trary to the waves below; so in the air, when contrary
winds blow together, one flies over the other. As there are
cataracts of rain within a narrow space, so there are whirl-
winds. As waters, however they go forward, yet if they
be troubled, swell up into waves, sometimes ascending,
“sie up into heaps, sometimes descending, are as it were
urrowed ; so the winds do the same, but only want the
motion of gravity. There are also other similitudes which
may be observed and gathered out of those things which
have already been inquired about.

Moveable Rules concerning Winds.
Connexion.

Rules are either particular or general, both with us are
moveable; for as yet we have not affirmed any thing posi-
tively. Particular rules may be taken and gathered almost
out of every article. We will cull out some general ones,
and those but a few, and add thereunto.

1. Wind is no other thing but moved air; but the air
itself moved either by a simple impulsion, or by commixion
of vapours.

2. Winds by a simple impulsion are caused four ways,
either by the natural motion of the air, or by expansion of
the air in the sun’s ways; or by reception of air thorow a
“sith cold, or by the compression of the air by external

1es.

There may be also a fifth way, by the agitation and con-
cussion of the air by stars. But let these things be awhile
silent, or be given ear unto with a sparing belief.

3. Of winds which are made by immixion of vapours,
the chief cause is the overburthening of the air, by air newly
made out of vapours, whereby the mass of the air grows
bigger, and seeks new room.

4. A small quantity of air added causeth a great tumour
of the air round about it, so that new air out of the resolu-
tion of vapours doth confer more to motion than to matter.
But the great body of wind consists in the former air,
neither doth the new air drive the old air before it, as if

298 NATURAL HISTORY

they were several bodies, but being both commixed, they
desire larger room.

5. When any other beginning of motion concurs, besides
the overburthening of the air, it is an accessory which
strengtheneth and increaseth that principal, which is the
reason that great and violent winds do seldom rise, by the
simple overburthening of the air.

6. Four things are accessory to the overburthening of
the air. The breathing out of subterraneal places: the

casting down out of (as it is called) the middle region of »

the air; dissipation made out of a cloud, and the mobility
and acrimony of the exhalation itself.

7. The motion of the wind is for the most part lateral;
but that which is made by mere overburthening is so from
the beginning, that which is made by the expiration of the
earth, or repercussion from above, a little while after, unless
the eruption, or precipitation, or reverberation, be exceeding
violent.

8. Air will endure some compression before it be over-
burthened, and begins to thrust away the adjoining air, by
reason whereof all winds are a little thicker than quiet
and calm air.

9. Winds are allayed five ways, either by the conjunction
of vapours, or by their sublimation, or by transporting them,
or by their being spent. |

10. Vapours are conjoined, and so the air itself becomes

water, four ways, either by abundance aggravating, or by |
colds condensing, or by contrary winds compelling, or by —

obstacles reverberating.

11. Both vapours and exhalations, but wind very fre- |

quently from vapours. But there is this difference, that
winds which are made of vapours do more easily incorpo-
rate themselves into pure air, are sooner allayed, and are

not so obstinate as those winds which are engendered of —

exhalations.

12. The manner and several conditions of heat have no
less power in the generation of winds, than the abundance

or conditions of the matter.
13. The heat of the sun ought to be so property in
the generation of winds, that it may raise them, but not m

such abundance as that they gather into rain, nor in so_

small a quantity, that they may be quite shaken off and —

dispersed.

14. Winds blow from their nurseries, and the nurseries’

being disposed several ways, divers winds for the most part.

OF WINDS. . , 299,

blow together, but the strongest either quite overthrows or
turns into its current the weakest.

15. Winds are engendered every where, from the very
superficies of the earth, up into the middle region of the
air, the more frequent below, but the stronger above.

16. The countries which have retaining or trade winds,
if they be warm, have them warmer that according to the
measure of their climate; if they be cold, they have them
colder.

A Human Map, or Optatives, with such things as are
next to them concerning Winds.
Optatives.

1. To frame and dispose sails of ships in such a manner,
that with less wind they might goa greater journey; a thing
very useful to shorten journeys by sea and save charges.

Next. The next invention precisely in practice I have
not as yet found; yet concerning that, look upon our
greater observations upon the six and twentieth article.

2. Optative. That we could make windmills, and their
sails in such manner that they may grind more with less
wind. A thing very useful for gain.

- Next. Look concerning this upon our experiments in the
answer to the seven and twentieth article, where the thing
seems to be, as it were, done. 7

Optative. To foreknow when winds will rise and allay.
A thing useful for navigation and for husbandry, especially
for the choosing of times for sea-fights.

Next. To this belong many of those things which are
observed in the inquisition, and especially in the answer to
the two and thirtieth article. But a more careful observa-
tion hereafter (if any shall apply their mind to it) will give
far more exact prognostics, the cause of the winds being
already laid open.

4, Optative. To give judgment, and make prognostics
by winds, of other things, as first, whether they be conti-
nents or islands in the sea in any place, or rather a free
open sea; a thing very useful for new and unknown voyages.

Next. The next is the observation concerning constant
and .° winds; that which Columbus seemed to make
use of.

5. Optative. Likewise of the plenty or scarcity of corn
every year. A thing useful for gain, and buying before-
hand, and forestalling, as it is reported of Thales, concern-
ing monopoly of olives.

300 NATURAL HISTORY OF WINDS.

Next. To this belong some things specified in the in-
quisition of winds, either hurtful or shaking winds, and
the times when-they do hurt; to the nine and twentieth
article. 3

6. Optative. Likewise concerning diseases and plagues

every year. A thing useful for the credit of physicians, if
they can foretell them, also for the causes and cures of dis- _

eases, and some other civil considerations.
Next. To this likewise belong some things set down in
the inquisition to the thirtieth article.

Monition. Of predictions by wind concerning corn, —
fruits, and diseases, look upon histories of husbandry and |

physick.
7. Optative. How to raise winds and to allay them.

Next. Concerning these things there are some super- |

stitious opinions, which do not seem worthy to be inserted
into a serious and severe natural history. Nor can I think
of any thing that is near in this kind. The design may be
this, to look thoroughly into and inquire about the nature of

the air; whether any thing may be found, whereof a small |

quantity put into air may raise and multiply the motion to

dilatation, or contraction in the body of the air. For out of |

this (if it might be done) would follow the raisings and allay-
ings of winds. Suchas that experiment of Pliny is concern-
ing vinegar thrown against the whirlwinds, if it were true.

Another design might be, by letting forth of winds out of |

subterraneal places; if so be they should gather together
any where in great abundance, as it is a common and ap-
proved opinion of the well in Dalmatia; but to know such
places of prisons, is very hard and difficult.

8. Optative. To work many fine, pleasant, and wonder-
ful conceits by the motion of winds.

Next. We have not leisure to enter into consideration | —
touching these things. Next to it is that common report —
of the duels of winds. Questionless many such pleasant _
things might very well be found out, both for motions and —

sounds of winds.

ENTRANCES

TO THE HISTORIES DESTINED FOR THE
NEXT FIVE MONTHS.

THE HISTORY OF DENSITY AND RARITY.

THE ENTRANCE,

Ir is no marvel if nature be indebted to philosophy and
the sciences, seeing it was never yet called upon to give an
account, for there never was any diligent and dispensatory
inquisition made of the quantity of the matter, and how
that had been distributed into bodies (in some copiously, in
others sparingly) according to the true, or at least truest
accounts that hath been truly received and approved of,
that nothing is taken away and lost, or added unto the
universal sum. Likewise that place hath been treated upon
by some, namely, how it can be loosened or contracted
without intermixion or vacuity, according to more or less:
but the natures of density and rarity some have referred to
the abundance or scarcity of the matter; another hath
laughed at the same; the greatest part, following their
author, do discuss and compose the whole matter by that
cold and weak distinction of act and power. Those also
who attribute them to the reasons of matter (which is the
true opinion) do neither quite deprive the materia prima, or
primary matter of its quantum, or quantity, though for other
forms they will have it equal, but here do terminate and
end the matter, and seek no further, nor do not perceive
what followeth thereby ; and either do not touch at all, or
at least do not urge home that which hath a regard to infi-
nites, and is as it were the basis and ground of natural
philosophy.

First, therefore, that which is rightly set down must not
be moved nor altered; namely, that there is no transaction
made in any transmutation of bodies, either from nothing,
or to nothing; but that they are works of the same omni-
potence, to create out of nothing, and to reduce unto no-

302 HISTORY OF DENSITY AND RARITY.

thing, and that by course of nature this can never be done.
Therefore the sum of the total matter stands still whole,
nothing is added, nothing is diminished; yet that this
sum is divided by portions amongst the bodies is unques-
tionable, for there can no man be so much beside himself
through any subtile abstractions, as to think that there is
as much matter in one vessel of water as in ten vessels of
water, nor likewise in one vessel of air as much as in ten
vessels of air; but in the same body there is no question
but that the abundance of matter is multiplied according
to the measure of the body, in divers bodies it is question-
able. And if it be demonstrated that one vessel of water
turned into air will yield ten vessels of air (for we take this
computation for a received opinion, though that of a hundred

fold be the truer), it is well; for now they are no more divers ~

bodies, water and air, but the same body of air in ten ves-
sels; but one vessel of air (as it was but now granted) is
but only the tenth part of ten vessels. Therefore it cannot
be contradicted but that in one vessel of water there is ten
times more matter than in one vessel of air: therefore if
one should affirm, that one whole vessel of water could be
converted into one vessel of air, it were as much as if one
should affirm that something could be reduced to nothing;
forasmuch as one tenth part of water would suffice to do it,
and the other nine parts must of necessity be reduced to
nothing; and contrariwise, if one should affirm that one
vessel of air could be turned into a vessel of water, it would
be as much as if he should say, that something could be
created out of nothing; for one vessel of air can attain and
reach but unto the tenth part of a vessel of water, and the
other nine parts must needs proceed from nothing. In the
mean time we will plainly acknowledge and confess, that
to understand the true means of the reasons and calcula-
tions of the how much part of the quantum, or how much
of the matter whichis in divers bodies, and by what wire
and sagacity one may be truly informed thereof, is a high
matter to be inquired; but such as the great and largely
extended profit which will accrue thereby will largely re-
ecompense. For to know the densities and rarities of the
body, and much more, how to procure and effect the con-
densations and rarefactions, is of great importance and

moment both to contemplative and to the practic. Seeing, |

then, it isa thing (if any there be at all) merely fundamental
and universal, we must go carefully and prepared about tf,
seeing that all philosophy without it is loose and disjointed.

303

THE HISTORY OF HEAVY AND LIGHT.

THE ENTRANCE.

|'Tux motion of gravity and lightness the ancients did illus-

trate with the name of natural motion; for they saw no
external efficient, nor no apparent resistance; yea, the mo-
tion seemed swifter in its progress. This contemplation,

or rather speech, they seasoned with that mathematical

phantasy of the staying or stopping of heavy things at the
centre of the earth (although the earth should be bored
quite thorow), and that scholastical invention of the motion
of bodies to their several places. Having laid or set down

_|these things, supposing they had done their parts, they
_|looked no further, but only that which some of them more
_|earefully inquired after, namely, of the centre of gravity in
divers figures, and of such things as are carried by water.
| Neither did any of the modern authors do any thing worth

speaking of concerning this, only by adding some few me-

|ehanical things which they had also wrested with their
_|demonstrations; but laying many words aside, it is most
_|certain that a body cannot suffer but by a body; neither
_|¢an there be any local motion made, unless it be solicited

or set forward, either by the parts of the body itself which
is moved, or by the adjacent bodies, which either touch it

or are near unto it, or are at least within the orb of its
_jactivity. So that Gilbertus did not unknowingly introduce

magnetic powers, he also becoming a loadstone, namely,
drawing more things by those powers than he should have
done, and building a ship as it were of a round piece of
wood.

THE HISTORY OF THE SYMPATHY AND
ANTIPATHY OF THINGS.

THE ENTRANCE.

STRiFE and amity in nature are the eggers on of motions,
and the keys of works. Hence proceeds the union and
dissension of bodies; hence the mixion and separation of
bodies ; hence the high and intimate impressions of virtues,
and that which they call joining of actives with passives:

304. SYMPATHY AND ANTIPATHY OF THINGS.

finally, they are the great and wonderful works of nature.
But this part of philosophy, namely, of the sympathy and
antipathy of things is most impure, which also they call
natural magic, and (which always likely comes to pass)
where diligence and care hath wanted, there hath hope re-
mained ; but the operation thereof in men is merely like
unto certain soporiferous medicines which cast one asleep,
and do moreover send and infuse into him merry and plea-
sant dreams. For first it casts man’s understanding into a
sleep, representing unto him specifical properties and hidden
virtues, whereby men awake no more, nor look after the
finding and searching out of true causes, but acquiesce and
lie still in these idle ways. Then it insinuates an innume-
rable company of fictions like unto dreams; and vain men
hope to know the nature by the outward shape and show,
_ and by extrinsical similitudes to discover inward properties.
Their practice also is very like unto their inquiry; for the
precepts of natural magic are such as if men should be con-
fident that they could subdue the earth, and eat their bread
without the sweat of their brow, and to have power over
things by idle and easy applications of bodies; and still
they have in their mouths, and like undertakers or sureties,
they call upon the loadstone, and the consent which is be-
tween gold and quicksilver; and some few things of this
kind they allege for to prove other things, which are not
bound by any such like contract. But God hath appointed
the best of things to be inquired out and be wrought by
labours and endeavours. We will be a little more careful

in searching out the law of nature and the mutual contracts _
of things, neither favouring miracles, nor making too lowly _

and straightened an inquisition.

THE HISTORY OF SULPHUR, MERCURY, AND i

SALT.

THE ENTRANCE,

Tus triple of principles hath been introduced by the chy-

mists, and as concerning speculatives is of them which they | |
bring the best invention. The most subtile and acute of

these, and those who are most philosophical, will have the

elements to be earth, water, air, and the sky; and those i

HISTORY OF SULPHUR, ETC. 305

they will not have to be the matter of things, but the matrixes
in which the specifical seeds of things do engender in the
nature of a matrix. But for the materia prima, or primary
matter (which scholars do lay down as it were naked and
indifferent), they substitute those three, Sulphur, Mercury,
and Salt; out of which all bodies are gathered together
and mixed. We do accept of their words, but their opinions
are not very sound. Yet that doth not ill agree with their
opinion, namely, that we hold two of them, to wit, sulphur
and mercury (taken according to our sense), to be very first
and prime natures, and most inward figurations of matter,
and almost chief amongst the forms of the first class. But
we may vary the words of sulphur and mercury, and name
them otherwise oily, waterish, fat, crude, inflammable, not
inflammable, or the like. For these seem to be two very
great things of the three, and which possess and penetrate
the universe, for amongst subterraneal things, they are sul-
phur and mercury, as they are called ; in the vegetable and
animal kind, they are oil and water; in the inferior spi-
ritual things, they are air and flame; in the heavenly, the
body of a star, and the pure sky; but of this last duality
we yet say nothing, though it seem to be a probable decy-
Benne for if they. mean by salt the fixed part of the

ody which is not resolved either into flame or smoke, this
belongeth to the inquisition of fluid and determinate things.
But if we take salt according to the letter without any
parabolical meaning, salt is no third thing from sulphur
and mercury, but mixed of both, connexed into one by an
acrimonious and sharp spirit; for all manner of salt hath
inflammable parts, and other parts also, which not only
will not take fire, but do also abhor it and fly from it: yet
the inquisition of salt, being somewhat allied to the inqui-
sition of the other two, and exceeding useful as being a tie
and band of both natures, sulphureous and salt, and the
very rudiment of life itself, we have thought fitting to
comprehend it also within this history and inquisition ; but
in the mean time we give you notice, that those spiritual
things, air, water, stars, and sky, we do (as they very well
deserve it) reserve them for proper and peculiar inqui-
sitions, and here in this place to set down the history onl
of tangible, that is to say, mineral or vegetable sulphur
and mercury.

VOL. XIV. Xx

THE

HISTORY OF LIFE AND DEATH. —

‘THE ENTRANCE, |

Tue Entrance to this History will be found in the His c
itself, which follows next in order.

HISTORY

NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL

OF

LE EB AN DIA Tt Be

OR, OF

THE PROLONGATION OF LIFE.

WRITTEN IN LATIN BY THE RIGHT HONOURABLE

FRANCIS BACON,

BARON OF VERULAM, VISCOUNT ST. ALBANS.

LONDON:

PRINTED FOR THOMAS LEE, AT THE TURK’S HEAD,
IN FLEET STREET.

1676.

TO THE READER.

I am to give advertisement, that there came forth of late
a translation of this Book by an unknown person, who
though he wished well to the propagating of his Lordship’s
Works, yet he was altogether unacquainted with his Lord- —
ship’s style and manner of expressions, and so published a
translation lame and defective in the whole. Whereupon
I thought fit to recommend the same to be translated anew
by a more diligent and zealous pen, which hath since tra-
velled in it; and though it still comes short of that lively
and incomparable spirit and expression, which lived and
died with the author, yet I dare avouch it to be much more
warrantable and agreeable than the former. It is true,
this Book was not intended to have been published in
English ; but seeing it hath been already made free of that
language, whatsoever benefit or delight may redound from
it, [ commend the same to the courteous and judicious
Reader. Wiki

TO THE PRESENT AGE AND POSTERITY.

GREETING,

A.tTuouGH I had ranked the History of Life and Death as
the last amongst my six monthly designations, yet I have
thought fit, in respect of the prime use thereof (in which
the least loss of time ought to be esteemed precious), to in-
vert that order, and to send it forth in the second place.
For I have hope,-and wish, that it may conduce to a com-
mon good ; and that the nobler sort of physicians will ad-
vance their thoughts, and not employ their times wholly
in the sordidness of cures, neither be honoured for necessity
only, but that they will become coadjutors and instruments
of the divine omnipotence and clemency in prolonging and
renewing the life of man; especially, seeing I prescribe it
to be done by safe, and convenient, and civil ways, though
hitherto unassayed. For though we Christians do conti- _
nually aspire and pant after the land of promise; yetit will —

be a token of God’s favour towards us in our journeyings

through this world’s wilderness, to have our shoes and
garments (I mean those of our frail bodies) little worn or —
impaired.

Fr. St. ALBANS.

THE HISTORY OF LIFE AND DEATH.

THE PREFACE.

Ir is an ancient saying and complaint, that life is short and
art long; wherefore it behoveth us, who make it our chief-
est aim to perfect arts, to take upon us the consideration of
prolonging man’s life, God, the author of all truth and life,
prospering our endeavours. For though the life of man be ~
nothing else but a mass and accumulation of sins and sor-
rows, and they that look for an eternal life set but light by
a temporary: yet the continuation of works of charity
ought not to be contemned, even by us Christians. Be-
sides, the beloved disciple of our Lord survived the other
disciples ; and many of the fathers of the church, especially
of the holy monks and hermits, were long lived; which
shows, that this blessing of long life, so often promised in
the old law, had less abatement after our Saviour’s days
than other earthly blessings had; but to esteem of this as
the chiefest good, we are but too prone. Only the inquiry ~
is difficult how to attain the same, and so much the rather,
because it is corrupted with false opinions and vain reports :
for both those things, which the vulgar physicians talk of,
radical moisture and natural heat, are but mere fictions ;
and the immoderate praises of chymical medicines first
puff up with vain hopes, and then fail their admirers.

And as for that death which is caused by suffocation,
putrefaction, and several diseases, we speak not of it now,
for that pertains to a history of physick ; but only of that
death which comes by a total decay of the body, and the
mconcoction of old age. Nevertheless, the last act of
death, and the very extinguishing of life itself, which may
so many ways be wrought outwardly and inwardly (which
notwithstanding have, as it were, one common porch before
it comes to the point of death), will be pertinent to be
aah of in this treatise ; but we reserve that for the last
place.

That which may be repaired by degrees, without a total

310 THE PREFACE.

waste of the first stock, is potentially eternal, as the vestal
fire. Therefore, when physicians and philosophers saw
that living creatures were nourished and their bodies re-
paired, but that this did last only for a time, and afterwards
came old age, and in the end dissolution; they sought
death in somewhat which could not properly be repaired,
supposing a radical moisture incapable of solid reparation,
and which, from the first infancy, received a spurious addi-
tion, but no true reparation, whereby it grew daily worse
and worse, and, in the end, brought the bad to none at all,
This conceit of theirs was both ignorant and vain; for all
things in living creatures are in their youth repaired entirely;
nay, they are for a time increased in quantity, bettered in
quality, so as the matter of reparation might be eternal, if the
manner of reparation did not fail. But this is the truth of
it. There is in the declining of age an unequal repara-
tion; some parts are repaired easily, others with difficulty
and to their loss; so as from that time the bodies of men
begin to endure the torments of Mezentius: that the living
die in the embraces of the dead; and the parts easily re-
pairable, through their conjunction with the parts hardly
repairable, do decay; for the spirits, blood, flesh, and fat
are, even after the decline of years, easily repaired ; but'the
drier and more porous parts (as the membranes, all the
tunicles, the sinews, arteries, veins, bones, cartilages, most
of the bowels, in a word, almost all the organical parts) are
hardly repairable, and to their loss. Now these hardly re-
pairable parts, when they come to their office of repairing
the other, which are easily repairable, finding themselves
deprived of their wanted ability and strength, cease to per-
form any longer their proper functions. By which means
it comes to pass, that in process of time the whole tends to
dissolution ; and even those very parts which, in their own
nature, are with much ease repairable, yet, through the
decay of the organs of reparation, can no more receive re-
paration, but decline, and in the end utterly fail. And the
cause of the termination of life is this, for that the spirits,
like a gentle flame, continually preying upon bodies, con-
spiring with the outward air, which is ever sucking and
drying of them, do, in time, destroy the whole fabric of the
body, as also the particular engines and organs thereof, and
make them unable for the work of reparation. These are

the true ways of natural death, well and faithfully to be »
revolved in our minds; for he that knows not the way of |

nature, how can he succour her or turn her about.

THE PREFACE. 311

Therefore the inquisition ought to be twofold; the one
touching the consumption or depredation ef the body of
man, the other touching the reparation and renovation of
the same: to the end, that the former may, as much as is
possible, be forbidden and restrained, and the latter com-
forted. The former of these pertains, especially, to the
spirits and outward air, by which the depredation and
waste is committed ; the latter to the whole race of alimen-
tation or nourishment, whereby the renovation or restitu-
tion is made. And as for the former part touching con-
sumption, this hath many things common with bodies in-
animate, or without life. For such things as the native spirit
(which is in all tangible bodies, whether living or without
life) and the ambient or external air worketh upon bodies
inanimate, the same it attempteth upon animate or living
bodies; although the vital spirit superadded, doth partly
break and bridle those operations, partly exalt, and advance
them wonderfully. For it is most manifest that inanimate
bodies (most of them) will endure a long time without any
reparation ; but bodies animate, without food and repara-
tion, suddenly fall and are extinguished, as the fire is. - So,
then, our inquisition shall be double. first, we will con-
sider the body of man as inanimate, and not repaired by
nourishment. Secondly, as animate and repaired by nou-
rishment. Thus, having prefaced these things, we come
now to the topic places of inquisition.

THE
PARTICULAR TOPIC PLACES ;

OR,

ARTICLES OF INQUISITION TOUCHING LIFE AND DEATH,

1. First, inquire of nature durable and not durable, in
bodies inanimate or without life, as also in vegetables; but
that not in a large or just treatise, but as in a brief or
summary only.

2. Also inquire diligently of desiccation, arefaction, and
consumption of bodies inanimate, and of vegetables, and
of the ways and processes by which they are done: and
further, of inhibiting and delaying of desiccation, arefac-
tion, and consumption, and of the conservation of bodies
in their proper state: and again, of the inteneration, emol-
lition, and recovery of bodies to their former freshness, after
they be once dried and withered.

Neither need the inquisition touching these things to be
full or exact, seeing they pertain rather to their proper title
of nature durable; seeing also, they are not principals in
this inquisition, but serve only to give light to the prolon-
gation and instauration of life in living creatures. In which
(as was said before) the same things come to pass, but in a
particular manner. No from the inquisition touching bodies
inanimate and vegetables, let the inquisition pass on to
other living creatures besides man.

3. Inquire touching the length and shortness of life in
living creatures, with the due circumstances which make
most for their long or short lives.

4. But because the duration of bodies is twofold, one in
identity, or the selfsame substance, the other by a renova-
tion or reparation; whereof the former hath place only in
bodies inanimate, the latter in vegetables and living crea-
tures, and is perfected by alimentation or nourishment;
therefore it will be fit to inquire of alimentation, and of the
ways and progresses thereof; yet this not exactly (because
it pertains properly to the titles of assimilation and alimen-
tation), but, as the rest, in progress only.

HISTORY OF LIFE AND DEATH. 313

From the inquisition touching living creatures and bodies
repaired by nourishment, pass on to the inquisition touching
man. And now being come to the principal subject of
inquisition, the inquisition ought to be in all points more
precise and accurate.

5. Inquire touching the length and shortness of life in
men, according to the ages of the world, the several regions,
climates, and places of their nativity and habitation.

6. Inquire touching the length and shortness of life in
men, according to their races and families, as if it were a
thing hereditary ; also according to their complexions, con-
stitutions, and habits of body, their statures, the manner
and time of their growth, and the making and composition
of their members. |

7. Inquire touching the length and shortness of life in

men, according to the times of their nativity, but so as you
omit for the present all astrological observations, and the
figures of heaven under which they were born, only insist
upon the vulgar and manifest observations ; as whether the
were born in the seventh, eighth, ninth, or tenth month ;
also, whether by night or by day, and in what month of
the year.
3 i dieowien touching the length and shortness of life in
men, according to their fare, diet, government of their life,
exercises, and the like. For as for the air in which men live
and make their abode, we account that proper to be inquired
of in the abovesaid article, touching the places of their
habitation.

9, Inquire touching the length and shortness of life in
men, according to their studies, their several courses of life,
- affections of the mind, and divers accidents befalling
them.

10. Inquire apart touching those medicines which are
thought to prolong life.

11. Inquire touching the signs and prognostics of lon
and short life, not those which betoken death at hand (for
they belong to a history of physick) but those which are
seen and may be observed even in health, whether they be
physiognomical signs or any other.

Hitherto have been propounded inquisitions touching
length and shortness of life, besides the rules of art, and in
a confused manner; now we think to add some, which
shall be more art like, and tending to practice, under the
name of intentions. Those intentions are generally three ;
as for the particular distributions of them, we will propound

314 HISTORY OF

them when we come to the inquisition itself. The three
general intentions are the forbidding of waste and con-
sumption, the perfecting of reparation, and the renewing of
oldness.

12. Inquire touching those things which conserve and
exempt the body of man from arefaction and consumption,
at least which put off and protract the inclination there-
unto. |

13. Inquire touching those things which pertain to the
whole process of alimentation (by which the body of man
is repaired), that it may be good, and with the best improve-
ment.

14. Inquire touching those things which purge out the
old matter, and supply with new; as also which do intene-
rate and moisten those parts which are already dried and
hardened. 3 :

But because it will be hard to know the ways of death,
unless we search out and discover the seat or house or
rather den of death, it will be convenient to make inquisi-
tion of this thing; yet not of every kind of death, but of
those deaths which are caused by want and indigence of
nourishment, not by violence, for they are those deaths
only which pertain to a decay of nature, and mere old age.

15. Inquire touching the point of death, and the porches

of death leading thereunto from all parts, so as that death |

be caused by a decay of nature, and not by violence.

16. Lastly, because it is behoveful to know the character |

and form of old age, which will then best be done if you
make a collection of all the differences both in the state and
functions of the body, betwixt youth and old age, that by
them you may observe what it is that produceth such ma-
nifold effects; let not this inquisition be omitted.

17. Inquire diligently touching the differences in the
state of the body, and faculties of the mind in youth and
old age; and whether there be any that remain the same
without alteration or abatement in old age.

Nature durable, and not durable.
To the first article. The History.

1. Metals are of that long lasting, that men cannot trace |
the beginnings of them; and when they do decay, they |

decay through rust, not through perspiration into air; yet

gold decays neither way.

2. Quicksilver, though it be a humid and fluid body, and |
easily made volatile by fire, yet (as far as we have observed) |

LIFE AND DEATH. 315

by age alone, without fire, it neither wasteth nor gathereth
rust. é

3. Stones, especially the harder sort of them, and many
other fossils, are of long lasting, and that though they be
exposed to the open air, much more if they be buried in the
earth. Notwithstanding stones gather a kind of nitre,
which is to them instead of rust. Precious stones and
crystals exceed metals in long lasting, but then they grow
dimmer and less orient if they be very old.

4. It is observed that stones lying towards the north do
sooner decay with age than those that lie toward the south ;
and that appears manifestly in pyramids and churches, -
and other ancient buildings; contrariwise, in iron, that ex-
posed to the south, gathers rust sooner, and that to the
north later; as may be seen in the iron bars of windows,
and no marvel, seeing in all putrefaction (as rust is) mois-
ture hastens dissolutions; in all simple arefaction, dryness,

5. In vegetables (we speak of such as are felled, not
growing), the stocks or bodies of harder trees, and the
timber made of them, last divers ages. But then there is
difference in the bodies of trees: some trees are in a manner
spongy, as the elder, in which the pith in the midst is soft,
and the outward part harder; but in timber trees, as the
o the inner part (which they call heart of oak) lasteth

onger.

6. The leaves, and flowers, and stalks of plants are but
of short lasting, but dissolve into dust, unless they putrefy ;
the roots are more durable.

7. The bones of living creatures last long, as we may see
it of men’s bones in charnel-houses; horns also last very
om ; So do teeth, as it is seen in ivory, and the seahorse
teeth.

8. Hides also and skins endure very long, as is evident
in old parchment books; paper likewise will last many
ages, though not so long as parchment.

9. Such things as have passed the fire last long, as glass
and bricks; likewise flesh and fruits that have passed the
fire last longer than raw, and that not only because the
baking of the fire forbids putrefaction, but also because the
watery humour being drawn forth, the oily humour sup-
ports itself the longer.

10. Water of all liquors is soonest drunk up by air, con-
trariwise oil latest ; which we may see not only in the liquors
themselves, but in the liquors mixed with other bodies; for
paper wet with water, and so getting some degree of trans-

316 HISTORY OF

parency, will soon after wax white, and lose the transpa-
rency, again the watery vapour exhaling; but oiled paper
will keep the transparency long, the oil not being apt to
exhale; and therefore they that counterfeit men’s hands
will lay the oiled paper upon the writing they mean to
counterfeit, and then essay to draw the lines.

11. Gums all of them last very long; the like do wax
and honey. :

12. But the equal or unequal use of things conduceth
no less to long lasting or short lasting than the things
themselves ; for timber, and stones, and other bodies stand-
ing continually in the water, or continually in the air, last
longer than if they were sometimes wet, sometimes dry;
and so stones continue longer if they be laid towards the
same coast of heaven in the building that they lay in the
mine. The same is of plants removed, if they be coasted
just as they were before.

Observations.

(1.) Let this be laid for a foundation, which is most sure,
that there is in every tangible body a spirit, or body pneu-
matical, inclosed and covered with the tangible parts; and
that from this spirit is the beginning of all dissolution and
consumption, so as the antidote against them is the de-
taining of this spirit.

(2.) This spirit is detained two ways; either by a straight
enclosure, as it were in a prison, or by a kind of free and
voluntary detention. Again, this voluntary stay is per-
suaded two ways: either if the spirit itself be not too move-
able or eager to depart, or if the external air importune it
not too much to come forth. So then, two sorts of sub-
stances are durable, hard substances and oily: hard sub-
stance binds in the spirits close; oily partly enticeth the
spirit to stay, partly is of that nature that it is not impor-
tuned by air; for air is consubstantial to water, and flame
to oil; and touching nature durable and not durable i
bodies inanimate, thus much.

The History.

13. Herbs of the colder sort die yearly both in root and

stalk ; as lettuce, purslane, also wheat and all kind of corn;

yet there are some cold herbs which will last three or four |

years, as the violet, strawberry, burnet, primrose, aud —
sorrel. But borage and bugloss, which seem so alike when —
they are alive, differ in their deaths; for borage will last

but one year, bugloss will last more.

LIFE AND DEATH. 317

14. But many hot herbs bear their age and years better ;
hyssop, thyme, savory, pot marjoram, balm, wormwood,
germander, sage, and the like. Fennel dies yearly in the
stalk, buds again from the root; but pulse and sweet mar-
joram can better endure age than winter, for being set in a
very warm place and well fenced, they will live more than
one year. It is known that a knot of hyssop twice a year
shorn hath continued forty years.

15. Bushes and shrubs live threescore years, and some
double as much. A vine may attain to threescore years,
and continue fruitful in the old age. Rosemary well placed
will come also to threescore years ; but whitethorn and ivy
endure above a hundred years. As for the bramble, the
age thereof is not certainly known, because bowing the head
to the ground it gets new roots, so as you cannot distinguish
the old from the new.

16. Amongst great trees the longest livers are the oak,
the holm, wild ash, the elm, the beech tree, the chesnut,
the plane tree, ficus ruminalis, the lote tree, the wild olive,
the palm tree, and the mulberry tree. Of these some have
come to the age of eight hundred years ; but the least livers
of them do attain to two hundred. »

17. But trees odorate, or that have sweet woods, and
trees rozenny, last longer in their woods or timber than
those abovesaid, but they are not so long lived, as the
cypress tree, maple, pine, box, juniper. The cedar being
borne out by the vastness of his body, lives well near as long
as the former.

18, The ash, fertile and forward in bearing, reacheth to
a hundred years and somewhat better; which also the birch,
maple, and service tree, sometimes do; but the poplar,
lime tree, willow, and that which they call the sycamore,
and walnut tree, live not so long.

19. The apple tree, pear tree, plum tree, pomegranate
tree, citron tree, medlar tree, black cherry tree, cherry
tree, may attain to fifty or sixty years; especially if they
be cleansed from the moss wherewith some of them are
clothed. .

20. Generally greatness of body in trees, if other things
be equal, hath some congruity with length of life; so hath
hardness of substance; and trees bearing mast or nuts are
commonly longer livers than trees bearing fruit or berries ;
likewise trees putting forth their leaves late, and shedding
them late again, live longer than those that are early either
m leaves or fruit; the ie is of wild trees in comparison of

318 HISTORY OF

orchard trees. And, lastly, in the same kind trees that bear
a sour fruit outlive those that bear a sweet fruit.

An Observation.

Aristotle noted well the difference between plants and
living creatures, in respect of their nourishment and repara-
tion: namely, that the bodies of living creatures are con-
fined within certain bounds, and that after they be come to
their full growth, they are continued and preserved by
nourishment, but they put forth nothing new except hair
and nails, which are counted for no better than excrements ;
so as the juice of living creatures must of necessity sooner
wax old; but in trees, which put forth yearly new boughs,
new shoots, new leaves, and new fruits, it comes to pass
that all these parts in trees are once a year young and
renewed. Now, it being so, that whatsoever is fresh and
young draws the nourishment more lively and cheerfully to
it than that which is decayed and old, it happens withal,
that the stock and body of the tree, through which the sap —
passeth to the branches, is refreshed and cheated witha
more bountiful and vigorous nourishment in the passage
than otherwise it would have been. And this appears

manifest (though Aristotle noted it not, neither hath he ex- |
pressed these things so clearly and perspicuously) in hedges, _
copses, and pollards, when the plashing, shedding, or lop- _
ping, comforteth the old stem or stock, and maketh it more |

flourishing and long lived. 7 a |

|
|
|
|
|
|

Desiccation, Prohibiting of Desiccation, and Inteneration of |
that which ts desiccated and dried. a

To the second article. The History. !
1. Fire and strong heats dry some things and melt

others.
‘¢ Limus ut hic durescit, et hec ut cera liquescit,
Uno eodemque igne 2?”

|
|

t

How this clay is hardened, and how this wax is melted,

with one and the same thing, fire? It drieth earth, stones, |
wood, cloth, and skins, and whatsoever is not liquefiable;
and it melteth metals, wax, gums, butter, tallow, and the like. |

2. Notwithstanding, even in those things which the fire |
melteth, if it be very vehement and continueth, it doth at)
last dry them. For metal in a strong fire (gold only ex- |
cepted), the volatile part being gone forth, will become less |

ponderous and more brittle; and those oily and fat sub- |

LIFE AND DEATH. 319

| stances in the like fire will burn up, and be dried and
parched,

| 3. Air, especially open air, doth manifestly dry, but not
imelt; as highways, and the upper part of the earth,
| moistened with showers, are dried; linen clothes washed,
if they be hanged out in the air, are likewise dried ; herbs,
and leaves, and flowers, laid forth in the shade, are dried.
But much more suddenly doth the air this, if it be either
enlightened with the sunbeams (so that they cause no putre-
| faction), or if the air be stirred, as when the wind bloweth,
or in rooms open on all sides.

4. Age most of all, but yet slowest of all, drieth; as in
all bodies, which (if they be not prevented by putrefaction)
are dry with age. But age is nothing of itself, being only
the measure of time; that which causeth the effect is the
native spirit of bodies, which sucketh up the moisture of
the body, and then, together with it, flieth forth, and the air
ambient, which multiplieth itself upon the native spirits
and juices of the body, and preyeth upon them. _

5. Cold of all things most properly drieth; for drying is
not caused but by contraction; now contraction is the pro-
per work of cold. But because we men have heat in a high
degree, namely, that of fire, but cold in a very low degree,
no other than that of winter, or perhaps of ice, or of snow,
or of nitre; therefore the drying caused by cold is but
weak, and easily resolved. Notwithstanding we see the
surface of the earth to be more dried by frost or by March
winds than by the sun, seeing the same wind both licketh
up the moisture, and affecteth with coldness.

6. Smoke is a drier, as in bacon and neats’ tongues,
which are hanged up in the chimneys ; and perfumes of
olibanum or lignum aloes, and the like, dry the brain and
cure catarrhs.

7. Salt, after some reasonable continuance, drieth not
only on the outside, but in the inside also, as in flesh and
fish salted, which, if they have continued any long time,
have a manifest hardness within.

8. Hot gums applied to the skin dry and wrinkle it, and
some astringent waters also do the same.

9. Spirit of strong waters imitateth the fire in drying, for
it will both poach an egg put into it and toast bread.

10. Powders dry like sponges by drinking up the mois-
ture, as it is in sand thrown upon lines new written; also
smoothness and politeness of bodies (which suffer not the
vapour of moisture to go in by the pores) dry by accident,

320 “HISTORY OF

because it exposeth it to the air, as it is seen in precious
stones, lookingglasses, and blades of swords, upon which
if you breathe, you shall see at first a little mist, but soon
after it vanisheth like a cloud. And thus much for desic-
cation or drying. ?

1]. They use at this day in the east parts of Germany
garners in vaults under ground, wherein they keep wheat
and other grains, laying a good quantity of straw both
under the grains sack about them, to save them from the
dampness of the vault, by which device they keep their
grains twenty or thirty years.. And this doth not only pre-
serve them from fustiness, but (that which pertains more
to the present inquisition) preserves them also in that
greenness that they are fit and serviceable to make bread.
The same is reported to have been in use in Cappadocia and
Thracia, and some parts of Spain. |

12. The placing of garners on the tops of houses, with
windows towards the east and north, is very commodious.
Some also make two sollars, an upper and a lower, and the
upper sollar hath a hole in it, through which the grain
continually descendeth, like sand in an hourglass, and
after a few days they throw it up again with shovels, that
so it may be in continual motion. Now it is to be noted
that this doth not only prevent the fustiness, but conserveth
the greenness, and slacketh the desiccation of it. The
cause is that which we noted before; that the discharging
of the watery humour, which is quickened by the motion
and the winds, preserves the oily humour in his being,

which otherwise would fly out together with the watery

humour. Also in some mountains, where the air is very
pure, dead carcasses may be kept for a good while without
any great decay.

13. Fruits, as pomegranates, citrons, apples, pears, and

the like; also flowers, as roses and lilies, may be kept a —

long time in earthen vessels close stopped ; howsoever,
they are not free from the injuries of the outward air, which
will affect them with his unequal temper through the sides
of the vessel, as it is manifest in heat and cold. There-
fore it will be good to stop the mouths of the vessels care-

fully, and to bury them within the earth; and it will be |
as good not to bury them in the earth, but to sink them |

in the water, so as the place be shady, as in wells or cisterns _
placed within doors; but those that be sunk in water |

will do better in glass vessels than in earthen.

14. Generally those things which are kept in the earth, |

LIFE AND DEATH. 32]

or in vaults under ground, or in the bottom of a well, will

avai their freshness longer than those things that are
ept above ground.

15. They say it hath been observed, that in conser-
vatories of snow (whether they were in mountains, in na-
tural pits, or in wells made by art for that purpose), an
apple, or chesnut, or nut, by chance falling in, after many
months, when the snow hatlr melted, hath been found in ~
the snow as fresh and fair as if it had been gathered the

day before.

16. Country people keep clusters of grapes in meal,
which though it nis them less pleasant to the taste, yet
it preserves their moisture and freshness. Also the harder
sort of fruits may be kept long, not only in meal, but also
in sawdust and in heaps of corn.

_ 17. There is an opinion held, bodies may be preserved
fresh in liquors of their own kind, as in their proper men-
strua, as to keep grapes in wine, olives in oil. .

18. Pomegranates and quinces are kept long, being lightly
dipped in sea water or salt water, and some after taken out
again, and then dried in the open air, so it be in the shade.

19. Bodies put in wine, oil, or the lees of oil, keep long,
much more in honey or spirit of wine, but most of all, as
some say, in quicksilver.

20. Fruits inclosed in wax, pitch, plaster, paste, or any
the like case or covering, keep green very long.

21. It is manifest that flies, spiders, ants, or the like

small creatures, falling by chance into amber, or the gums

of trees, and so finding a burial in them, do never after cor-
rupt or rot, although they be soft and tender bodies.

22. Grapes are kept long by being hanged up in bunches;
the same is of other fruits. For there is a twofold com-
modity of this thing; the one, that they are kept without
pressing or bruising, which they must needs suffer, if they
were laid upon any hard substance; the other, that the air
doth encompass them on every side alike.

23. It is observed that putrefaction, no less than desic-
cation in vegetables, doth not begin in every part alike, but
chiefly in that part where, being alive, it did attract nourish-
ment. Therefore some advise to cover the stalks of apples
or other fruits with wax or pitch.

‘24. Great wicks of candles or lamps do sooner consume
the tallow or oil than lesser wicks; also wicks of cotton
sooner than those of rush or straw, or small twigs; and in
staves of torches, those of juniper or fir sooner than those of

VOL. XIV. Y

322 HISTORY OF

ash; likewise flame moved and fanned with the wind sooner

than that which is still. Arfd, therefore, candles set in a
lantern will last longer than in the open air. There is a
tradition, that lamps set in sepulchres will last an incredible
time.

25. The nature also and preparation of the nourishment
conduceth no less to the lasting of lamps and candles, than
the nature of the flame ; for wax will last longer than tallow,
and tallow a little wet longer than tallow dry, and wax
candles old made longer than wax candles new made.

26. Trees, if you stir the earth about their root every
year, will continue less time; if once in four, or perhaps in ten
years, much longer; also cutting off the suckers and young
shoots will make them live the longer; but dunging them,
or laying of marl about their roots, or much watering them,
adds to their fertility, but cuts off from their long lasting.
And thus much touching the prohibiting of desiccation or
consumption.

27. The inteneration or making tender of that which is
dried (which is the chief matter) affords but a small num-
ber of experiments. And therefore some few experiments
which are found in living creatures, and also in man, shall
be joined together.

28. Bands of willow, wherewith they use to bind trees,
laid in water, grow more flexible; likewise they put boughs
of birch (the ends of them) in earthen pots filled with
water, to keep them from withering; and bowls cleft with

dryness steeped in water close again. a
29. Boots grown hard and obstinate with age, by grea |

them before the fire with tallow wax soft, or being only hel
before the fire, get some softness. Bladders and parchments
hardened also become tender with warm water mixed with
tallow or any fat thing, but much the better if they be a
little chafed.

30. Trees grown very old, that have stood long without
any culture, by digging and opening the earth about the
roots of them, seem to grow young again, and put forth
young branches.

31. Old draught oxen worn out with labour, being taken

from the yoke, and put into fresh pasture, will get young —
and tender flesh again; insomuch that they will eat as _

fresh and tender as a steer.

32. A strict emaciating diet of guiacum, biscuit, and the |
like (wherewith they use to cure the French pox, old ¢a-_
tarrhs, and some kind of dropsies), doth first bring men to |

ereat poverty and leanness, by wasting the juices and hu-

LIFE AND DEATH. 323

mours of the body, which after they begin to be repaired
again seem manifestly more vigorous and young. Nay, and
I am of opinion, that emaciating diseases afterwards well
cured have advanced many in the way of long life.

Observations.

]. Men see clearly, like owls, in the night of their own
notions, but in experience, as in the daylight, they wink,
and are but half-sighted. They speak much of the ele-
mentary quality of siccity or dryness, and of things desic-
cating, and of the natural periods of bodies in which they
are corrupted and consumed ; but meanwhile, either in the
beginnings, or middle passages, or last acts of desiccation
and consumption, they observe nothing that is of moment.
2. Desiccation or consumption in the process thereof is
finished by three actions; and all these (as was said before)
have their original from the native spirit of bodies.

3. The first action is the attenuation of the moisture into
spirit; the second is, the issuing forth or flight of the
spirit ; the third is, the contraction of the grosser parts of
the body immediately after the spirit issued forth. And
this last is, that desiccation and induration, which we
chiefly handle, the former two consume only. )

4. Touching attenuation, the matter is manifest: for the
spirit which is enclosed in every tangible body forgets not
its nature, but whatsoever it meets withal in the body (in
which it is enclosed) that it can digest and master, and
turn into itself, that it plainly alters and subdues, and mul-
tiplies itself upon it, and begets new spirit. And this
evicted by one proof, instead of many; for that those
things which are thoroughly dried are lessened in their

weight, and become hollow, porous, and resounding from

within. Now it is most certain, that the inward spirit of
any thing confers nothing to the weight, but rather hghtens
it; and therefore it must needs be, that the same spirit
hath turned into it the moisture and juice of the body which

|weighed before, by which means the weight is lessened.

And this is the first action, the attenuation of the moisture
and converting it into spirit.

5. The second action, which is the issuing forth or flight of
the spirit, is as manifest also. For that issuing forth, when
it is in throngs, is apparent even to the sense, in vapours to
the sight, in odours to the smelling; but if it issueth forth
slowly (as when a thing is decayed by age), then it is not
apparent to the sense, but the matter is the same. Again,

324 HISTORY OF

where composure of the body is either so straight, or so
tenacious, that the spirit can find no pores or passages by
which to depart, then, in the striving to get out, it drives
before it the grosser parts of the body, and protrudes them
beyond the superficies or surface of the body; as it is in
the rust of metals, and mould of all fat things. And this
is the second action, the issuing forth or flight of the spirit.
6. The third action is somewhat more obscure, but full
as certain; that is, the contraction of the grosser parts
after the spirit issued forth. And this appears, first, in
that bodies after the spirit issued forth do manifestly shrink,
and fill a less room, as it is in the kernels of nuts, which
after they are dried, are too little for the shells; and m
beams and planchers of houses, which at first lay close
together, but after they are dried give; and likewise in |
bowls, which through drought grow full of crannies, the |
parts of the bowl contracting themselves together, and after
contraction must needs be empty spaces. Secondly, it |
appears by the wrinkles of bodies dried ; for the endeavour |
of contracting itself is such, that by the contraction it |
brings the parts nearer together, and so lifts them up; for |
whatsoever is contracted on the sides, is lifted up in the |
midst: and this is to be seen in papers and old parchments, |
and in the skins of living creatures, and in the coats of soft |
cheeses, all which with age gather wrinkles. Thirdly, this |
contraction shows itself most in those things which by heat |
are not only wrinkled, but ruffled and plighted, and, as it
were, rolled together, as it is in papers, and parchments,
and leaves, brought near the fire; for contraction by age, |
which is more slow, commonly causeth wrinkles, but con- |
traction by the fire, which is more speedy, causeth plight- |
ing. Now in most things where it comes not to wrinkling
or plighting, there is simple contraction, and angustiation
or straitening, and induration or hardening, and desiccation, ©
as was showed in the first place. But if the issuing forth |
of the spirit, and absumption or waste of the moisture be so
great that there is not left body sufficient to unite and con-
tract itself, then of necessity contraction must cease, and —
the body become putrid, and nothing else but a little dust
cleaving together, which with a light touch is dispersed,
and falleth asunder; as it is in bodies that are rotten, and |
in paper burnt, and linen made into tinder, and carcasses
embalmed after many ages. And this is the third action, —
the contraction of the grosser parts after the spirit issueth) —
forth. |

LIFE AND DEATH. 325

7, It is to be noted, that fire and heat dry only by acci-
dent, for their proper work is to attenuate and dilate the
spirit and moisture, and then it follows by accident that the
other parts should contract themselves, either for the flying
of vacuum alone, or for some other motion withal, whereof
we now speak not. .

8. It is certain that putrefaction taketh its original from
the native spirit, no less than arefaction, but it goeth on
a far different way; for in putrefaction, the spirit is not
simply vapoured forth, but being detained in part, works
strange garboils, and the grosser parts are not so much
locally contracted, as they congregate themselves to parts
of the same nature. !

Length and Shortness of Life in living Creatures.
To the first article. The History.

Touching the length and shortness of life in living crea-
tures, the information which may be had is but slender,
observation is negligent, and tradition fabulous. In tame
creatures their degenerate life corrupteth them, in wild
| creatures their exposing to all weathers often intercepteth

them; neither do those things which may seem concomi-
tants give any furtherance to this information (the great-
ness of their bodies, their time of bearing in the womb, the
number of their young ones, the time of their growth, and
the‘rest), in regard that these things are intermixed, and
sometimes they concur, sometimes they sever.

1. Man’s age (as far as can be gathered by any certain
narration) doth exceed the age of all other living creatures,
except it be of a very few only, and the concomitants in
him are very equally disposed, his stature and proportion
large, his bearing in the womb nine months, his fruit com-
monly one at a birth, his puberty at the age of fourteen
years, his time of growing till twenty.

2. The elephant, by undoubted relation, exceeds the or-
dinary race of man’s life, but his bearing in the womb the
space of ten years is fabulous; of two years, or at least above
one, is certain. Now his bulk is great, his time of growth
until the thirtieth year, his teeth exceeding hard, neither
hath it been observed that his blood is the coldest of all
creatures; his age hath sometimes reached to two hundred
years.

3. Lions are accounted long livers, because many of them
have been found toothless, a sign not so certain, for that
may be caused by their strong breath.

326 HISTORY OF

4. The bear is a great sleeper, a dull beast, and given to
ease, and yet not noted for long life; nay, he hath this
sign of short life, that his bearing in the womb is but short,
scarce full forty days.

5. The fox seems to be well disposed in many things for
long life; he is well skinned, feeds on flesh, lives in dens,
and yet he is noted not to have that property. Certainly
he is a kind of dog, and that kind is but shortlived.

6. The camel is a long liver, a lean creature, and sinewy ;

so that he doth ordinarily attain to fifty, and sometimes to

a hundred years.

7. The horse lives but to a moderate age, scarce to forty |

years, his ordinary period is twenty years, but perhaps he.

is beholden for this shortness of life to man; for we have
now no horses of the sun that live freely, and at pleasure,
in good pastures; notwithstanding the horse grows till he
be six years old, and is able for generation in his old age.
Besides the mare goeth longer with her young one than
a woman, and brings forth two at a burthen more rarely.
The ass lives commonly to the horse’s age, but the mule
outlives them both.

8. The hart is famous amongst men for long life, yet not
upon any relation that is undoubted. They tell of a certain
hart that was found with a collar about his neck, and that
collar hidden with fat. The long life of the hart is the
less credible, because he comes to his perfection at the fifth
year, and not long after his horns (which he sheds and
renews yearly) grow more narrow at the root, and less
branched.

9. The dog is but a short liver, he exceeds not the age of
tweuty years, and, for the most part, lives not to fourteen
years ; a creature of the hottest temper, and living in ex-

tremes, for he is commonly either in vehement motion, or —

sleeping; besides, the bitch bringeth forth many at a
burden, and goeth nine weeks. 3
10. The ox likewise, for the greatness of his body and

strength, is but a short liver, about some sixteen years, and |
the males live longer than the females: notwithstanding |
they bear usually but one at a burden, and go nine months; |

a creature dull, fleshy, and soon fatted, and living only
upon herby substances, without grain,

11. The sheep seldom lives to ten years, though he be a—

creature of a moderate size, and excellently clad ; and, that |
which may seem a wonder, being a creature with so little |
a gall, yet he hath the most curled coat of any other, for

LIFE AND DEATH. 327

the hair of no creature is so much curled as wool is. The
rams generate not before the third year, and continue able
for generation until the eighth. ‘The ewes bear young as
long as they live. The sheep is a diseased creature, and
rarely lives to his full age. |

12. The goat lives to the same age with the sheep, and
is not much unlike in other things, though he be a creature
more nimble, and of somewhat a firmer flesh, and so should
| be longer lived ; but then he is much more lascivious, and

that shortens his life. j
; 13. The sow lives to fifteen years, sometimes to twenty ;
and though it be a creature of the moistest flesh, yet that
seems to make nothing to length of life. Of the wild boar
or sow we have nothing certain. ©

14. The cat’s age is betwixt six and ten years; a crea-
ture nimble and full of spirit, whose seed (as Aélian reports)
burneth the female; whereupon it is said, that the cat
conceives with pain, and brings forth with ease. A crea-
ture ravenous in eating, rather swallowing down his meat
whole than feeding.

15, Hares and coneys attain scarce to seven years, being

both creatures generative, and with young ones of several
conceptions in their bellies. In this they are unlike, that
the coney lives under ground, and the hare above ground.
And, again, that the hare is of a more duskish flesh.
_ 16. Birds, for the size of their bodies, are much lesser
than beasts; for an eagle or swan is but a small thing in
comparison of an ox or horse, and so is an ostrich to an
elephant.

17, Birds are excellently well clad, for feathers, for
warmth and close sitting to the body, exceed wool and hairs.

18. Birds, though they hatch many young ones together,
yet they bear them not all in their bodies at once, but lay
their eggs by turns, whereby their fruit hath the more
plentiful nourishment whilst it is in their bodies.

19. Birds chew little or nothing, but their meat is found
whole in their crops, notwithstanding they will break the
Shells of fruit and pick out the kernels; they are thought
to be of a very hot and strong concoction. |

20, The motion of birds in their flying is a mixed mo-
tion, consisting of a moving of the limbs, and of a kind of
carriage, which is the most wholesome kind of exercise.

21. Aristotle noted well touching the generation of birds
(but he transferred it ill to other living creatures), that the
seed of the male confers less to generation than the female,

328 HISTORY OF

but that it rather affords activity than matter; so that
fruitful eggs and unfruitful eggs are hardly distinguished.

22. Birds (almost all of them) come to their full growth
the first year, or a little after. It is true, that their feathers
in some kinds, and their bills in others, show their years ;
but for the growth of their bodies it is not so.

23. The eagle is accounted a long liver, yet his years are
not set down ; and it is alleged, as a sign of his long life,
that he casts his bill, whereby he grows young again; from
whence comes that old proverb, the old age of an eagle. ©
Notwithstanding perchance the matter may be thus, that
the renewing of the eagle doth not cast his bill, but the
casting of his bill is the renewing of the eagle; for, after
that his bill is grown to a great crookedness, the eagle feeds
with much difficulty.

24. Vultures are also affirmed to be long livers, insomuch
that they extend their life well near to a hundred years.
Kites likewise, and so all birds that feed upon flesh, and
birds of prey, live long. As for hawks, because they lead
a degenerate and servile life for the delight of men, the term
of their natural life is not certainly known ; notwithstanding
amongst mewed hawks some have been found to have lived
thirty years, and amongst wild hawks forty years.

25. The raven likewise is reported to live long, some-
times to a hundred years. He feeds on carrion, and flies
not often, but rather is a sedentary and melanchollic bird,
and hath very black flesh. But the crow, like unto him in
most things (except in greatness and voice), lives not alto-
gether so long, and yet 1s reckoned amongst the long livers.

26. The swan is certainly found to be a long liver, and
exceeds not unfrequently a hundred years. He is a bird
excellently plumed, a feeder upon fish, and is always car-
ried, and that in running waters.

27. The goose also may pass amongst the long livers,
though his food be commonly grass, and such kind of
nourishment, especially the wild goose; whereupon this
proverb grewamongst the Germans, Magis senex quamanser
nivalis; older than a wild goose.

28. Storks must needs be long livers, if that be true—
which was anciently observed of them, that they never came
to Thebes, because that city was often sacked. This, if it
were so, then either they must have the knowledge of more
ages than one, or else the old ones must tell their young the
history. But there is nothing more frequent than fables.

29. For fables do so abound touching the phcenix, that

LIFE AND DEATH. 329

_| the truth is utterly lost, if any such bird there be. As for
that which was so much admired, that she was ever seen
abroad with a great troop of birds about her, it is no such
wonder; for the same is usually seen about an owl flying
in the daytime, or a parrot let out of a cage.

_ 30. The parrot hath been certainly known to have lived
_| threescore years in England, how old soever he was before
_| he was brought over; a bird eating almost all kind of meats,
chewing his meat, and renewing his bill: likewise curst
and mischievous, and of a black flesh.

_ 31. The peacock lives twenty years, but he comes not
forth with his argus eyes before he be three years old; a
bird slow of pace, having whitish flew.

32. The dunghill cock is venereous, martial, and but of
a short life; a crank bird, having also white flesh.

33. The Indian cock, commonly called the turkey cock,
lives not much longer than the dunghill cock; an angry
bird, and hath exceeding white flesh.

34. The ringdoves are of the longest sort of livers, inso-
much that they attain sometimes to fifty years of age; an
airy bird, and both builds and sits on high. But doves and
turtles are but short lived, not exceeding eight years.

35. But pheasants and partridges may live to sixteen
years. They are great breeders, but not so white of flesh
as the ordinary pullen.

36. The blackbird is reported to be, amongst the lesser
birds, one of the longest livers; an unhappy bird, and a
good singer.

37. The sparrow is noted to be of a very short life; and
it is imputed in the males to their lasciviousness. But the
linnet, no bigger in body than the sparrow, hath been ob-
served to have lived twenty years.

88. Of the ostrich we have nothing certain; those that
were kept here have been so unfortunate, that no long life
appeared by them. Of the bird ibis we find only that he
liveth long, but his years are not recorded.

39. The age of fishes is more uncertain than that of
terrestrial creatures, because living under the water the
are the less observed ; many of them breathe not, by whiek
means their vital spirit is more closed in; and, therefore,
though they receive some refrigeration by their gills, yet
that refrigeration is not so continual as when it is by
breathing. !

40. They are free from the desiccation and depredation
of the air ambient, because they live in the water, yet there

330 HISTORY OF

is no doubt but the water, ambient, and piercing, and re-
ceived into the pores of the body, doth more hurt to long
life than the air doth. | 3

41. It is affirmed, too, that their blood is not warm.
Some of them are great devourers, even of their own kind.
Their flesh is softer and more tender than that of terrestrial
creatures ; they grow exceedingly fat, insomuch that an

incredible quantity of oil will be extracted out of one

whale.

42. Dolphins are reported to live about thirty years; of
which thing a trial was taken in some of them by cutting
off their tails, they grow until ten years of age.

43. That which they report of some fishes is strange,
that after a certain age their bodies will waste and grow
very slender, only their head and tail retaining their former
ereatness.

44. There were found in Cesar’s fishponds lampreys to
have lived threescore years; they were grown so familiar
with long use, that Crassus, the orator, solemnly lamented
one of them.

45. The pike, amongst fishes, living in fresh water is
found to last longest, sometimes to forty years; he is a
ravener, of a flesh somewhat dry and firm.

46. But the carp, bream, tench, eel, and the like, are not
held to live above ten years. 3

47. Salmons are quick of growth, short of life; so are
trouts; but the perch is slow of growth, long of life.

48. Touching that monstrous bulk of the whale or ork,
how long it is weiled by vital spirit, we have received no-
thing certain; neither yet touching the sea-calf, and sea-
hog, and other innumerable fishes. ,

49. Crocodiles are reported to be exceeding long lived,
and are famous for the times of their growth, for that they,
amongst all other creatures, are thought to grow during
their whole life. They are of those creatures that lay eggs,
ravenous, cruel, and well fenced against the waters. Touch-

ing the other kinds of shell fish, we find nothing certain

how long they live.
Observation.

To find out a rule touching length and shortness of life

in living creatures is very difficult, by reason of the negli- !

gence of observations, and the intermixing of causes.
few things we will set down.

1. There are more kinds of birds found to be long lived |

LIFE AND DEATH, 331

than of beasts; as the eagle, the vulture, the kite, the
pelican, the raven, the crow, the swan, the goose, the stork,
the crane, the bird called the ibis, the parrot, the ringdove,
with the rest, though they come to their full growth within
a year, and are less of bodies; surely their clothing is ex-
cellent good against the distemperatures of the weather ;
and, besides, living for the most part in the open air, they
are like the inhabitants of pure mountains, which are long
lived. Again, their motion, which (as I elsewhere said) is
a mixed motion, compounded of a moving of their limbs
and of a carriage in the air, doth less weary and wear them,
and it is more wholesome. Neither do they suffer an
compression or want of nourishment in their mother’s bel-
lies, because the eggs are laid by turns. But the chiefest
cause of all I take to be is this, that birds are made more of
the substance of the mother than of the father, whereby
their spirits are not so eager and hot.

2. It may be a position, that creatures which partake
more of the substance of their mother than of their father
are long lived, as birds are, which was said before. Also
that those which have a longer time of bearing in the womb,
do partake more of the substance of their mother, less of
the father, and so are longer lived; insomuch, that I am of
opinion, that even amongst men (which I have noted in
some), those that resemble their mothers most are longest
lived ; and so are the children of old men begotten of young
wives, if the fathers be sound not diseased.

3. The first breeding of creatures is ever material, either
to their hurt or benefit. And, therefore, it stands with rea-
son, that the lesser compression, and the more liberal ali-
mentation of the young one in the womb, should confer
much to long life. Now this happens when either the
young ones are brought forth successively, as in birds, or
when they are single birth, as in creatures bearing but one
at a burthen. :

4. But long bearing in the womb makes for length of
life three ways. First, for that the young one partakes
more of the substance of the mother, as hath been said.
Secondly, that it comes forth more strong and able. Thirdly,
that it undergoes the predatory force of the air later. Be-
sides, it shows that nature intendeth to finish her periods
by larger circles. Now though oxen, and sheep, which are
borne in the womb about six months, are but short lived,
that happens for other causes.

5. Feeders upon grass and mere herbs are but short

332 HISTORY OF

livers, and creatures feeding upon flesh, or seeds, or fruits,
long livers, as some birds are. As for harts, which are long
lived, they take the one half of their meat (as men use to
say) from above their heads, and the goose, besides grass,
findeth something in the water, and stubble to feed upon.

6. We suppose that a good clothing of the body maketh
much to long life; for it fenceth and armeth against the in-
temperances of the air, which do wonderfully assail and decay
the body ; which benefit birds especially have. Now that
sheep, which have so good fleeces, should be so short lived,
that is to be imputed to diseases, whereof that creature is
full, and to the bare eating of grass.

7. The seat of the spirits, without doubt, is principally
the head, which though it be usually understood of the

animal spirits only, yet this is all in all. Again, it is not ©

to be doubted but the spirits do most of all waste and prey
upon the body, so that when they are either in greater
plenty, or in greater inflammation and acrimony, there the
life is much shortened. And, therefore, I conceive a great
cause of long life in birds to be the smallness of their heads
in comparison of their bodies; for even men, which have
very great heads, I suppose to be the shorter livers.

8. I am of opinion, that carriage is of all other motions
the most helpful to long life, which I also noted before.
Now there are carried waterfowls upon the water, as swans ;
all birds in their flying, but with a strong endeavour of
their limbs; and fishes, of the length of whose lives we
have no certainty.

9. Those creatures which are long before they come to
their perfection (not speaking of growth in stature only, but
of other steps to maturity, as man puts forth, first, his
teeth, next, the signs of puberty, then his beard, and so
forward) are long lived, for it shows that nature finished
her periods by larger circles.

10. Milder creatures are not long lived, as the sheep
and dove; for choler is as the whetstone and spur to many
functions in the body.

11. Creatures, whose flesh is more duskish, are longer
lived than those that have white flesh ; for it showeth that

the juice of the body is more firm, and less apt to dis-

sipate.
"9. In every corruptible body quantity maketh much to
the conservation of the whole; for a great fire is longer in
uenching, a small portion of water is sooner evaporated,
the body of a tree withereth not so fast asa twig. And,

LIFE AND DEATH. 333

therefore, generally (I speak it of species, not of individuals)
creatures that are large in body are longer lived than those
that are small, unless there be some other potent cause to
hinder it.

Alimentation or Nourishment ; and the way of Nourishing.

To the fourth article. The History.

1, Nourishment ought to be of an inferior nature, and more

simple substance than the thing nourished. Plants are nou-
rished with the earth and water, living creatures with plants,
man with living creatures. There are also certain creatures
feeding upon flesh, and man himself takes plants into a
part of his nourishment; but man and creatures feeding
‘upon flesh are scarcely nourished with plants alone; per-
haps fruit or grains, baked or boiled, may, with long use,
nourish them; but leaves, or plants, or herbs, will not do it,
as the order of Foliatanes showed by experience.

2. Over great affinity or consubstantiality of the nou- .
rishment to the thing nourished proveth not well; creatures
feeding upon herbs touch no flesh ; and of creatures feed-
ing upon flesh, few of them eat their own kind. As for
men, which are cannibals, they feed not ordinarily upon
man’s flesh, but reserve it as a dainty, either to serve their
revenge upon their enemies, or to satisfy their appetite at
sometimes. So the ground is best sown with seed growing
elsewhere, and men do not use to graft or inoculate upon
the same stock.

3. By how much the more the nourishment is better pre-
pared, and approacheth nearer in likeness to the thing
nourished, by so much the more are plants more fruitful,
and living creatures in better liking and plight; fora young
slip or cion is not so well nourished if it be pricked into
the ground, as if it be grafted into a stock agreeing with it
in nature, and where it finds the nourishment already di-
gested and prepared ; neither (as is reported) will the seed
of an onion, or some such like, sown in the bare earth, bring
forth so large a fruit as if it be put into another onion,
which is a new kind of grafting into the root or under
ground. Again, it hath been found out lately, that a slip
of a wild tree, as of an elm, oak, ash, or such like, grafted
into a stock of the same kind, will bring forth larger leaves
than those that grow without grafting. Also men are not
nourished so well with raw flesh as with that which hath
passed the fire.

334 HISTORY OF

4. Living creatures are nourished by the mouth, plants
by the root, young ones in the womb by the navel. Birds
for a while are nourished with the yolk in the egg, whereof
some is found in their crops after they are hatched.

5. All nourishment moveth from the centre to the circum-
ference, or from the inward to the outward; yet it is to be
noted, that in trees and plants the nourishment passeth
rather by the bark and outward parts than by the pith and
inward parts; for if the bark be pulled off, though but for
a small breadth round, they live no more; and the blood in
the veins of living creatures doth no less nourish the flesh
beneath than the flesh above it.

6. In all alimentation or nourishment there is a twofold
action, extusion, and attraction ; whereof the former proceeds
from the inward function, the latter from the outward.

7. Vegetables assimilate their nourishment simply, with-
out excerning; for gums and tears of trees are rather ex-

uberances than excrements, and knots or knobs are nothing ~

but diseases. But the substance of living creatures is more
perceptible of the like; and, therefore, it is conjoined with
a kind of disdain, whereby it rejecteth the bad and assi-
milateth the good.

8. It is a strange thing of the stalks of fruits, that all the
nourishment which produceth sometimes such great fruits,
should be forced to pass through so narrow necks; for the
fruit is never joined to the stocks without some stalk.

9. It is to be noted, that the seeds of living creatures will

not be fruitful but when they new shed, but the seeds of
plants will be fruitful a long time after they are gathered ;
yet the slips or cions of trees will not grow unless they be
grafted green, neither will the roots keep long fresh unless
they be covered with earth.

10. In living creatures there are degrees of nourishment
according to their age; in the womb, the young one is nou-
rished with the mother’s blood; when it is new-born, with
milk ; afterwards with meats and drinks; and in old age
the most nourishing and savoury meats please best. ,

Above all it maketh to the present inquisition, to inquire
diligently and attentively whether a man may not receive
nourishment from without, at least some other way beside
the mouth. We know that baths of milk are used in some
hectic fevers, and when the body is brought extreme low,
and physicians do provide nourishing glisters. This matter
would be well studied; for if nourishment may be made
either from without, or some other way than by the stomach,

LIFE AND DEATH. a30

then the weakness of concoction, which is incident to old
men, might be recompensed by these helps, and concoction
restored to them entire.

Length and Shortness of Life in Man.
To the fifth, sixth, seventh, eight, ninth, and eleventh articles. The History.

1. Before the flood, as the sacred scriptures relate, men
lived many hundred years; yet none of the fathers attained

toafull thousand. Neither was this length of life peculiar

only to grace or the holy line; for there are reckoned of
the fathers, until the flood, eleven generations; but of the
sons of Adam, by Cain, only eight generations; so as the
posterity of Cain may seem the longer lived. But this
length of life, immediately after the flood, was reduced to
a moiety, but in the post nati; for Noah, who was born
before, equalled the age of his ancestors, and Sem saw the
six hundredth year of his life. Afterwards three genera-
tions being run from the flood, the life of man was brought
down to a fourth part of the primitive age, that was, to

about two hundred years.

2. Abraham lived a hundred and seventy and five years ;
aman of a high courage, and prosperous inallthings. Isaac
came to a hundred and eighty years of age; a chaste man,
and enjoying more quietness than his father. But Jacob,
after many crosses, and a numerous progeny, lasted to the
hundred and forty-seventh year of his life; a patient,
ap and wise man. Ismael, a military man, lived a

undred and thirty and seven years. Sarah (whose years
only amongst women are recorded) died in the hundred and
twenty-seventh year of her age; a beautiful and magnani-
mous woman, a singular good mother and wife, and yet no
less famous for her liberty than obsequiousness towards her
husband. Joseph also, a prudent and politic man, passing
his youth in affliction, afterwards advanced to the height
of honour and prosperity, lived a hundred and ten years.
But his brother Levi, older than himself, attained to a hun-
dred and thirty-seven years ; a man impatient of contumel
and revengeful. Near unto the same age attained the son
of Levi; also his grandchild, the father of Aaron and

Moses.

3. Moses lived a hundred and twenty years; a stout man,
and yet the meekest upon the earth, and of a very slow
tongue. Howsoever Moses, in his psalm, pronounceth that
the life of man is but seventy years, and if a man have
Strength, then eighty; which term of man’s life standeth

336 ~ HISTORY OF

firm in many particulars even at this day. Aaron, who was —

three years the older, died the same year with his brother;
a man of a readier speech, of a more facile disposition, and

less constant. But Phineas, grandchild of Aaron (perhaps _

out of extraordinary grace), may be collected to have lived
three hundred years; if so be the war of the Israelites
against the tribe of Benjamin (in which expedition Phineas
consulted with) were performed in the same order of time
in which the history hath ranked it; he was a man of a
most eminent zeal. Joshua, a martial man and an excel-
lent leader, and evermore victorious, lived to the hundred
and tenth year of his life. Caleb was his contemporary,

and seemeth to have been of as great years. Ebud, the

judge, seems to have been no less thana hundred years old
in regard that after the victory over the Moabites, the Holy
Land had rest under his government eighty years; he was
a man fierce and undaunted, and one that in a sort neglected
his life for the good of his people.

4. Job lived, after the restoration of his happiness, a
hundred and forty years, being, before his afflictions, of that
age that he had sons at man’s estate; a man politic, elo-
quent, charitable, and the example of patience. Eli, the
priest, lived ninety-eight years ; a corpulent man, calm of
disposition, and indulgent to his children. But Elizeus,
the prophet, may seem to have died when he was above a
hundred years old; for he is found to have lived after the
assumption of Elias sixty years; and at the time of that
assumption he was of those years, that the boys mocked
him by the name of baldhead ; a man vehement and severe,
and of an austere life, and a contemner of riches. Also
Isaiah, the prophet, seemeth to have been a hundred years
old; for he is found to have exercised the function of a pro-
phet seventy years together, the years both of his beginning
to prophecy, and of his death, being uncertain; a man of
an admirable eloquence, an evangelical prophet, full of the
promises of God of the New Testament, as a bottle with
sweet wine.

5. Tobias, the elder, lived a hundred and fifty-eight
years, the younger a hundred and twenty-seven; merciful
men, and great alms givers. It seems, in the time of the

captivity, many of the Jews who returned out of Babylon »

were of great years, seeing they could remember both tem- |

ples (there being no less than seventy years betwixt them),

and wept for the unlikeness of them. Many ages after —
that, in the time of our Saviour, lived old Simeon, to the |
age of ninety; a devout man, and full both of hope and —

LIFE AND DEATH. Sat

expectation. Into the same time also fell Anna, the pro-
phetess, who could not possibly be less than a hundred
years old, for she had been seven years a wife, about eighty-
four years a widow, besides the years of her virginity, and
' the time that she lived after her prophecy of our Saviour ;
she was a holy woman, and passed her days in fastings and
prayers.

6. The long lives of men mentioned in heathen authors
have no great certainty in them; both for the intermixture
of fables, whereunto those kind of relations were very prone,
and for their false calculation of years. Certainly of the
Egyptians we find nothing of moment in those works that are |
extant, as touching long life; for their kings which reigned
longest did not exceed fifty, or five and fifty years; which
is no great matter, seeing many at this day attain to those
onl But the Arcadian kings are fabulously reported to

ave lived very long. Surely that country was mountainous,
full of flocks of sheep, and brought forth most wholesome
food, notwithstanding, seeing Pan was their god, we may
conceive that all things about them were panic and vain,
| and subject to fables.
7. Numa, king of the Romans, lived to eighty years; a
man peaceable, contemplative, and much devoted to reli-
gion. Marcus Valerius Corvinus saw a hundred years
complete, there being betwixt his first and sixth consulship
forty-six years; a man valorous, affable, popular, and al-
ways fortunate.

8. Solon of Athens, the lawgiver, and one of the seven
wise men, lived above eighty years, a man of a high courage,
but popular, and affected to his country; also learned,
given to pleasures, and a soft kind of life. Epimenides, the
Cretian, is reported to have lived a hundred and fifty-seven
years; the matter is mixed with a prodigious relation, for
fifty-seven of those years he is said to have slept in a cave.
Half an age after, Xenophon, the Colophonian, lived a hun-
dred and two years, or rather more; for at the age of
twenty-five years he left his country, seventy-seven com-

lete years he travelled, and after that returned; but how
ong ke lived after his return appears not; a man no less
wandering in mind than in body; for his name was changed
for the madness of his opinions, from Xenophanes to Xeno-
manes; a man, no doubt, of a vast conceit, and that minded
nothing but infinitum.

9. Anacreon, the poet, lived eighty years, and somewhat
better, a man lascivious, voluptuous, and given to drink.

WOL. XIv. z

338 HISTORY OF

Pindarus, the Theban, lived to eighty years; a poet of a_

high fancy, singular in his conceits, and a great adorer of
the gods. Sophocles, the Athenian, attained to the like
age; a lofty tragic poet, given over wholly to writing, and
neglectful of his family.

10. Artaxerxes, king of Persia, lived ninety-four years; a
man of a dull wit, averse to the dispatch of business, de-
sirous of glory, but rather of ease. At the same time lived
Agesilaus, king of Sparta, to eighty-four years of age; a
moderate prince, as being a philosopher among kings, but,
notwithstanding, ambitious, and a warrior, and no less stout
in war than in business.

11. Gorgias, the Sicilian, was a hundred and eight years

old ; a rhetorician, and a great boaster of his faculty, one
that taught youth for profit. He had seen many countries,
and a little before his death said, that he had done nothing
worthy of blame since he was an old man. Protagoras, of
Abdera, saw ninety years of age. This man was likewise

a rhetorician, but professed not so much to teach the liberal

arts, as the art of governing commonwealths and states;
notwithstanding he was a great wanderer in the world, no
less than Gorgias. Isocrates, the Athenian, lived ninety-
eight years; he was a rhetorician also, but an exceeding
modest man, one that shunned the public light, and opened
his school only in his own house. Democritus, of Abdera,
reached to a hundred and nine years; he was a great phi-
losopher, and, if ever any man amongst the Grecians, a
true naturalist; a surveyor of many countries, but much
more of nature; also a diligent searcher into experiments,
and (as Aristotle objected against him) one that followed
similitudes more than the laws of arguments. Diogenes,
the Sinopean, lived ninety years; a man that used hberty
towards others, but tyranny over himself, a coarse diet, and
of much patience. Zeno, of Citium, lacked about two years

of a hundred; a man of a high mind, and a contemner of | |
other men’s opinions ; also of a great acuteness, but yet not |
troublesome, choosing rather to take men’s minds than to |

enforce them. The like whereof afterwards was in Seneca.

Plato, the Athenian, attained to eighty-one years; a man
of a great courage, but yet a lover of ease, in his notions |
sublime, and of a fancy, neat and delicate in his life, rather _
calm than merry, and one that carried a kind of majesty m | -
his countenance. Theophrastus, the Eressian, arrived at |
eighty-five years of age; a man sweet for his eloquence, —
sweet for the variety of his matters, and who selected the ©

LIFE AND DEATH. 339

_ pleasant things of philosophy, and let the bitter and harsh

go. Carneades, of Cyrena, many years after, came to the
like age of eighty-five years: a man of a fluent eloquence,
and one who, by the acceptable and pleasant variety of his

_knowledge, delighted both himself and others. But Orbi-

lius, who lived im Cicero’s time, no philosopher or rheto-
rician, but a grammarian, attained to a hundred years of
age; he was first a soldier, then a schoolmaster; a man

_ by nature tart both in his tongue and pen, and severe to-

wards his scholars.

12. Quintius Fabius Maximus was augur sixty-three
years, which showed him to be above eighty years of age
at his death; though it be true, that in the augurship no-
bility was more respected than age; a wise man, and a
great deliberator, and in all his proceedings moderate, and
not without affability severe. Masinissa, king of Numidia, |
lived ninety years, and being more than eighty-five, got a
son; a daring man, and trusting upon his fortune, who in
his youth had tasted of the inconstancy of fortune, but in
his succeeding age was constantly happy. But Marcus
Porcius Cato lived above ninety years of age; a man of an
iron body and mind; he had a bitter tongue, and loved to
cherish factions ; he was given to husbandry, and was to
himself and his family a physician.

13. Terentia, Cicero’s wife, lived a hundred and three
years; a woman afflicted with many crosses; first, with
the banishment of her husband, then with the difference
betwixt them ; lastly, with his last fatal misfortune. She
was also oftentimes vexed with the gout. Luceia must
needs exceed a hundred, by many years, for it is said, that
she acted a whole hundred years upon the stage, at first,
perhaps, representing the person of some young girl, at last
of some decrepit old woman. But Galeria Copiola, a player
also, and a dancer, was brought upon the stage as a novice,
in what year of her age is not known; but ninety-nine years
after, at the dedication of the theatre by Pompey the Great,
she was shown upon the stage, not now for an actress, but
fora wonder. Neither was this all; for after that, in the
solemnities for the health and life of Augustus, she was
shown upon the stage the third time. :

14. There was another actress, somewhat inferior in age,
but much superior in dignity, which lived well near ninety
years, I mean Livia Julia Augusta, wife to Augustus Cesar,
and mother to Tiberius. For if Augustus his life were a
play (as himself would have it, when as upon his deathbed

340 HISTORY OF

he charged his friends they should give him a plaudit after
he was dead), certainly this lady was an excellent actress,
who could carry it so well with her husband by a dissem-
bled obedience, and with her son by power and authority.

A woman affable, and yet of a matronal carriage, pragma-_

tical, and upholding her power. But Junia, the wife of
Caius Cassius, and sister of Marcus Brutus, was also ninety
years old, for she survived the Philippic battle sixty-four
years; a magnanimous woman, in her great wealth happy,
in the calamity of her husband, and near kinsfolks, and in
a long widowhood unhappy, notwithstanding much ho-
noured of all.

15. The year of our Lord seventy-six, falling into the
time of Vespasian, is memorable ; in which we shall find,
as it were, a calendar of long lived men; for that year there
was a taxing (now a taxing is the most authentical and
truest informer touching the ages of men); and in that part
of Italy, which lieth betwixt the Apennine mountains and
the river Po, there were found a hundred and four and
twenty persons that either equalled or exceeded a hundred
years of age; namely, of a hundred years, just fifty-four
persons; of a hundred and ten, fifty-seven persons; of a
hundred and five and twenty, two only; of a hundred and

thirty, four men; of a hundred and five and thirty, or seven —

and thirty, four more; of a hundred and forty, three men.
Besides these, Parma in particular afforded five, whereof
three fulfilled a hundred and twenty years, and two a hun-
dred and thirty. Brussels afforded one of a hundred and
twenty-five years old. Placentia one, aged a hundred thirty
and one. Faventia one woman, aged one hundred thirty
and two. A certain town, then called Velleiatium, situate
in the hills about Placentia, afforded ten, whereof six ful-
filled a hundred and ten years of age, four a hundred and
twenty. Lastly, Rimini, one of a hundred and fifty years,
whose name was Marcus Aponius.

That our catalogue might not be extended too much in
length, we have thought fit, as well in those whom we have
rehearsed, as in those whom we shall rehearse, to offer none
under eighty years of age. Now we have affixed to every
one a true and short character or elogy ; but of that sort
whereunto, in our judgment, length of life (which is not a

little subject to the manners and fortunes of men) hath |
some relation, and that in a twofold respect; either that |
such kind of men are for the most part long lived, or that —

such men may sometimes be of long life, though otherwise
not well disposed for it.

LIFE AND DEATH. 341

16. Amongst the Roman and Grecian emperors, also the
French and Almain, to these our days, which make up the
number of well near two hundred princes, there are only
four found that lived to eighty years of age; unto whom
we may add the two first emperors, Augustus and Tiberius,
whereof the latter fulfilled the seventy and eighth year, the
former the seventy and sixth year of his age, and might
both perhaps have lived to fourscore, if Livia and Caius
had been pleased. Augustus (as was said) lived seventy
and six years; a man of moderate disposition, in accom-
plishing his designs vehement, but otherwise calm and se-
rene; in meat and drink sober, in venery intemperate,
through all his lifetime happy ; and who, about the thirtieth
year of his life, had a great and dangerous sickness, inso-
much as they despaired of life in him, whom Antonius
Musa, the physician, when other physicians had applied hot
medicines, as most agreeable to his disease, on the con-
trary cured with cold medicines, which perchance might be
some help to the prolonging of his life. Tiberius lived to
be two years older; a man with lean chaps, as Augustus
was wont to say, for his speech stuck within his jaws,
but was weighty. He was bloody, a drinker, and one that
took lust into a part of his diet; notwithstanding a great
observer of his health, insomuch that he used to say, that |
he was a fool, that after thirty years of age took advice of

-a physician. Gordian, the elder, lived eighty years, and

yet died a violent death, when he was scarce warm in his
empire; a man of a high spirit, and renowned, learned, and
a poet, and constantly happy throughout the whole course
of his life, save only that he ended his days by a violent
death. Valerian, the emperor, was seventy-six years of age
before he was taken prisoner by Sapor, king of Persia.
After his captivity he lived seven years in reproaches, and
then died a violent death also; a man of a poor mind, and
not valiant, notwithstanding lifted up in his own, and the
opinion of men, but falling short in the performance.
Anastasius, surnamed Dicorut, lived eighty-eight years; he
was of a settled mind, but too abject, and superstitious, and
fearful. Anicius Justinianus lived to eighty-three years ;
a man greedy of glory, performing nothing in his own per-

/ son, but in the valour of his captains happy and renowned,

uxorious, and not his own man, but suffering others to lead
him. Helena, of Britain, mother of Constantine the Great,
was fourscore years old ; a woman that intermeddled not in
matters of state, neither in her husband’s nor son’s reign,
but devoted herself wholly to religion; magnanimous, and

342 HISTORY OF

perpetually flourishing. Theodora, the empress (who was
sister to Zoes, wife of Monomachus, and reigned alone after
her decease), lived above eighty years; a pragmatical
woman, and one that took delight in governing; fortunate
in the highest degree, and through her good fortunes cre-
dulous.

17. We will proceed now from these secular princes to
the princes in the church; St.John, an apostle of our Saviour,
and the beloved disciple, lived ninety-three years. He was
rightly denoted under the emblem of the eagle, for his
piercing sight into the divinity, and was a seraph amongst
the apostles, in respect of his burning love. St, Luke, the
Evangelist, fulfilled fourscore and four years; an eloquent
man and a traveller, St. Paul’s inseparable companion, and
a physician. Simeon, the son of Cleophas, called the bro-
ther of our Lord, and bishop of Jerusalem, lived a hundred
and twenty years, though he was cut short by martyrdom ;
a stout man, and constant, and full of good works. Poly-
carpus, disciple unto the apostles, and bishop of Smyrna,
seemeth to have extended his age to a hundred years and
more, though he were also cut off by martyrdom ; a man of
a high mind, of an heroical patience, and unwearied with
labours. Dionysius Areopagita, contemporary to the apos-
tle St. Paul, lived ninety years; he was called the bird of
heaven for his high flying divinity, and was famous, as well
for his holy life as for his meditations. Aquila and Pris-
cilla, first St. Paul the apostle’s hosts, afterward his fellow
helpers, lived together in a happy and famous wedlock, at
least to a hundred years of age apiece, for they were both
alive under Pope Xistus the First; a noble pair, and prone
to all kind of charity, who amongst other their comforts
(which no doubt were great unto the first founders of the
church) had this added, to enjoy each other so long ina
happy marriage. St. Paul, the hermit, lived a hundred and
thirteen years; now’he lived in a cave, his diet was so
slender and strict, that it was thought almost impossible to
support human nature therewithal; he passed his years
only in meditations and soliloquies; yet he was not illite-
rate, or an idiot, but learned. Saint Anthony, the first
founder of monks, or (as some will have it) the restorer only,
attained to a hundred and five years of age; a man devout
and contemplative, though not unfit for civil affairs; his
life was austere and mortifying, notwithstanding he lived
in a kind of glorious solitude, and exercised a command,
for he had his monks under him. And, besides, many

a a en tn

LIFE AND DEATH. 343

Christians and philosophers came to visit him as a living
image, from which they parted not without some adoration.
St. Athanasius exceeded the term of eighty years; a man
of an invincible constancy, commanding fame, and not
yielding to fortune. He was free towards the great ones,
with the people gracious and acceptable, beaten and prac-
tised to oppositions, and in delivering himself from them,
stoutand wise. St. Hierom, by the consent of most writers,
exceeded ninety years of age; a man powerful in his pen,
and of a manly eloquence, variously learned both in the
tongues and sciences ; alsoa traveller, and that lived strictly
towards his old age, in an estate private, and not dignified ;
he bore high spirits, and shined far out of obscurity.

18. The popes of Rome are in number, to this day, two
hundred, forty, and one. Of so great a number, five only
have attained to the age of fourscore years, or upwards.
But in many of the first popes, their full age was intercepted
by the prerogative and crown of martyrdom. John, the
twenty-third pope of Rome, fulfilled the ninetieth year of
his age; a man of an unquiet disposition, and one that stu-
died novelty ; he altered many things, some to the better,
others only to the new, a great accumulator of riches and
treasures. Gregory, called the twelfth, created in schism,
and not fully acknowledged pope, died at ninety years. Of
him, in respect of his short papacy, we find nothing to
make a judgment upon. Paul the third lived eighty years
and one; a temperate man, and of a profound wisdom ; he
was learned, an astrologer, and one that tended his health
carefully, but, after the example of old Eli the priest, over
indulgent to his family. Paul the fourth attained to the
age of eighty-three years; a man of a harsh nature, and
severe, of a haughty mind, and imperious, prone to anger,
his speech was eloquent and ready. Gregory the thirteenth
fulfilled the like age of eighty-three years; an absolute
good man, sound in mind and body, politic, temperate, full
of good works, and an almsgiver.

19. Those that follow are to be more promiscuous in their
order, more doubtful in their faith, and more barren of ob-
servation. King Arganthenius, who reigned at Cadiz in
Spain, lived a hundred and thirty, or (as some would have
it) a hundred and forty years, of which he reigned eighty.
Concerning his manners, institution of his life, and the time
wherein he reigned, there is a general silence. Cynirus,
king of Cyprus, living in the island then termed the happy
and pleasant island, is affirmed to have attained to a hun-

344 ' HISTORY OF

dred and fifty, or sixty years. ‘Two Latin kings in Italy,
the father and the son, are reported to have lived, the one
eight hundred, the other six hundred years; but this is de-
livered unto us by certain philologists, who, though other-
wise credulous enough, yet themselves have suspected the
truth of this matter, or rather condemned it. Others record
some Arcadian Kings to have lived three hundred years ;
the country, no doubt, is a place apt for long life, but the
relation I suspect to be fabulous. They tell of one Dando,
in Ilyrium, that lived without the inconveniences of old age
__ to five hundred years. They tell also of the Epians, a part
of AStolia, that the whole nation of them were exceeding
long lived, insomuch that many of them were two hundred
years old; and that one principal man amongst them, named |
Litorius, a man of a giantlike stature, could have told three
hundred years. It is recorded, that on the top of the moun-
tain Timolus, anciently called Tempsis, many of the inha-
bitants lived to a hundred and fifty years. We read that
the sect of the Esseans, amongst the Jews, did usually ex-
tend their life to a hundred years. Now that sect used a _
single or abstemious diet, after the rule of Pythagoras.
Apollonius Tyaneus exceeded a hundred years, his face be-
wraying no such age; he was an admirable man, of the
heathens reputed to have something divine in him, of the
Christians held for a sorcerer; in his diet pythagorical, a
great traveller, much renowned, and by some adored asa
god; notwithstanding, towards the end of his life, he was
subject to many complaints against him, and reproaches,
all which he made shift to escape. But lest his long life
should be imputed to his pythagorical diet, and not rather
that it was hereditary, his grandfather before him lived a
hundred and thirty years. It is undoubted, that Quintus
Metellus lived above a hundred years; and that after several
consulships happily administered, in his old age he was
made Pontifex Maximus, and exercised those holy duties
full two and twenty years; in the performance of which
rites his voice never failed, nor his hand trembled. _ It is
most certain, that Appius Ceecus was very old, but his years
are not extant, the most part whereof he passed after he
was blind, yet this misfortune no whit softened him, but
that he was able to govern a numerous family, a great
retinue and dependance, yea, even the commonwealth it-
self, with great stoutness. In his extreme old age he was
brought in a litter into the senatehouse, and vehemently
dissuaded the peace with Pyrrhus; the beginning of his

LIFE AND DEATH. 345

oration was very memorable, showing an invincible spirit
and strength of mind. “I have, with great grief of mind
(Fathers Conscript), these many years borne my blindness,
but now I could wish that I were deaf also, when I hear
you speak to such dishonourable treaties.” Marcus Per-
penna lived ninety-eight years, surviving all those whose
suffrages he had gathered in the senatehouse, being consul,
I mean all the senators at that time, as also all those whom
a little after, being consul, he chose into the senate, seven
only being excepted. Hiero, king of Sicily, in the time of the
second Punic war, lived almost a hundred years; a man
moderate both in his government and in his life, a worshipper
of the gods, and a religious conserver of friendship, liberal,
and constantly fortunate. Statilia, descended of a noble
family in the days of Claudius, lived ninety-nine years.
Clodia, the daughter of Osilius, a hundred and fifteen.
Xenophilus, an ancient philosopher, of the sect of Pytha-
goras, attained to a hundred and six years, remaining
healthful and vigorous in his old age, and famous amongst
the vulgar for his learning. The islanders of Corcyra were
anciently accounted long lived, but now they live after the
rate of other men. Huipocrates Cous, the famous physician,
lived a hundred and four years, and approved and credited
his own art by so long a life; a man that coupled learning
and wisdom together, very conversant in experience and ob-
servation; one that haunted not after words or methods,
but severed the very nerves of science, and so propounded
them. Demonax, a philosopher, not only in profession but
practice, lived in the days of Adrian almost to a hundred
years; a man of a high mind, and a vanquisher of his own
mind, and that truly and without affectation; a contemner
of the world, and yet civil and courteous. When his friends
spake to him about his burial, he said, Take no care for my
burial, for stench will bury a carcass. They replied, Is it
your mind then to be cast out to birds and dogs? He said
again, Seeing in my lifetime I endeavoured to my uttermost
to benefit men, what hurt is it if, when I am dead, I benefit
beasts? Certain Indian people, called Pandore, are ex-
ceedingly long lived, even to no less than two hundred
years. They had a thing more marvellous, that having, when
they are boys, an air somewhat whitish, in their old age,
before their gray hairs, they grow coalblack, though indeed
this be every where to be seen, that they which have white
hair whilst they are boys, in their man’s estate change their
hairs into a darker colour. The Seres, another people of

346 HISTORY OF

India, with their wine of palms, are accounted long livers,
even toa hundred and thirty years. Euphranor, the gram-
marian, grew old in his school, and taught scholars when
he was above a hundred years old. The elder Ovid, father
to the poet, lived ninety years, differmg much from the dis-
position of his son, for he contemned the muses, and dis-
suaded his son from poetry. Asinius Pollio, intimate with

Augustus, exceeded the age of a hundred years; a man of

an unreasonable profuseness, eloquent, and a lover of learn-
ing, but vehement, proud, cruel, and one that made his
private ends the centre of his thoughts. There was an
opinion, that Seneca was an extreme old man, no less than
a hundred and fourteen years of age, which could not pos-
sibly be, it being as improbable that a decrepit old man
should be set over Nero’s youth as, on the contrary, it was
true, that he was able to manage with great dexterity the
affairs of state. Besides, a little before, in the midst of
Claudius his reign, he was banished Rome for adulteries
committed with some noble ladies, which was a crime no
way compatible with so extreme old age. Johannes de

Temporibus, among all the men of our latter ages, out of a -

common fame and vulgar opinion, was reputed long lived,
even to a miracle, or rather even to a fable; his age hath
been counted above three hundred years. He was by
nation a Frenchman, and followed the wars under Charles
the Great. Garcius Aretine, great-grandfather to Petrarch,
arrived at the age of a hundred and four years; he had ever
enjoyed the benefit of good health, besides, at the last, he
felt rather a decay of his strength than any sickness or ma-
lady, which is the true resolution by old age. Amongst the
Venetians there have been found not a few long livers, and
those of the more eminent sort. Franciscus Donatus, duke;
. Thomas Contarerus, procurator of Saint Mark; Franciscus
Molinus, procurator also of Saint Mark, and others. But
most memorable is that of Cornarus the Venetian, who,
being in his youth of a sickly body, began first to eat and
drink by measure to a certain weight, thereby to recover
his health; this cure turned by use into a diet, that diet to
an extraordinary long life, even of a hundred years and
better, without any decay in his senses, and with a constant
enjoying of his health. In our age, William Pestel, a
Frenchman, lived to a hundred and well nigh twenty years,
the top of his beard on the upper lip being black, and not
gray at all; a man crazed in his brain, and of a fancy not
altogether sound; a great traveller, mathematician, and
somewhat stained with heresy.

al

LIFE AND DEATH. 347

20. 1 suppose there is scarce a village with us in England,
if it be any whit populous, but it affords some man or woman
of fourscore years of age; nay, a few years since, there was —
in the county of Hereford a May-game, or morrice-dance,
consisting of eight men, whose age computed together
made up eight hundred years; insomuch that what some
of them wanted of a hundred, others exceeded as much.

21. In the hospital of Bethlehem, corruptly called Bed-

lam, in the suburbs of London, there are found from time to

time many mad persons that live to a great age.

22. The ages of nymphs, fawns, and satyrs, whom they
make to be indeed mortal, but yet exceedingly long lived
(a thing which ancient superstition, and the late credulity
of some have admitted), we account but for fables and
dreams, especially being that which hath neither consent
with philosophy, nor with divinity. And as touching the
history of long life in man by individuals, or next unto in-
dividuals, thus much. Now we will pass on to observations
by certain heads.

23. The running on of ages, and succession of genera-
tions, seem to have no whit abated from the length of life.
For we see, that from the time of Moses unto these our days,
the term of man’s life hath stood about fourscore years of
age; neither hath it declined (as a man would have thought)
by little and little. No doubt there are times in every
country wherein men are longer or shorter lived. Longer,
for the most part, when the times are barbarous, and men
fare less deliciously, and are more given to bodily exercises.
Shorter, when the times are more civil, and men abandon -
themselves to luxury and ease. But these things pass on
by their turns, the succession of generations alters it not.
The same, no doubt, is in other living creatures, for neither
oxen, nor horses, nor sheep, nor any the like, are abridged
of their wonted ages at thisday. And, therefore, the great
abridger of age was the flood; and perhaps some such
notable accidents (as particular inundations, long droughts,
earthquakes, or the like) may do the same again. And the
like reason is in the dimension and stature of bodies, for
neither are they lessened by succession of generations ;
howsoever Virgil (following the vulgar opinion) divined that
after ages would bring forth lesser bodies than the then
present. Whereupon, speaking of ploughing up the Aima-
thian and AZmmensian fields, he saith, Grandiaque effossis
mirabitur ossa sepulchris, That after ages shall admire
the great bones digged up in ancient sepulchres. For
whereas it is manifested, that there were heretofore men of

348 HISTORY OF

gigantine statures (such as for certain have been found in

Sicily and elsewhere, in ancient sepulchres and caves), yet

within these last three thousand years, a time whereof we
have sure memory, those very places have produced none
such, although this thing also hath certain turns and
changes, by the civilizing of a nation, no less than the
former. And this is the rather to be noted, because men

are wholly carried away with an opinion, that there is a con-

tinual decay by succession of ages, as well in the term of

man’s life, as in the stature and strength of his body; and_

that all things decline and change to the worse.

24. In cold and northern countries men live longer com-
monly than in hot, which must needs be, in respect the
skin is more compact and close, and the juices of the body
less dissipable, and the spirits themselves less eager to con-
sume, and in better disposition to repair, and the air (as
being little heated by the sunbeams) less predatory. And
yet under the equinoctial line, where the sun passeth to and
fro, and causeth a double summer, and double winter, and

where the days and nights are more equal (if other things

be concurring), they live also very long, as in Peru and
Taprobane. |

25. Islanders are, for the most part, longer lived than
those that live in continents; for they live not so long in
Russia as in the Oreades, nor so long in Africa, though
under the same parallel, as in the Canaries and Terceras}
and the Japonians are longer lived than the Chineses, though
the Chineses are made upon long life. And this thing is
- no marvel, seeing the air of the sea doth heat and cherish
in cooler regions, and cool in hotter.

26. High situations do rather afford long livers than low,
especially if they be not tops of mountains, but rismg
grounds, as to their general situations; such as was Arcadia
in Greece, and that part of Aitolia, where we related them
to have lived so long. Now there would be the same reason

for mountains themselves, because of the pureness and

clearness of the air, but that they are corrupted by acci-
dent, namely, by the vapours rising thither out of the val-
leys, and resting there; and, therefore, in snowy mountains
there is not found any notable long life, not in the Alps, not

in the Pyrenean mountains, not in the Apennine; yet in the |
tops of the mountains running along towards Aithiopia, and ,
the Abyssines, where, by reason of the sands beneath, little |
or no vapour riseth to the mountains; they live long, even | —
at this very day, attaining many times to a hundred and —

fifty years.

ee name cr incite sei

LIFE AND DEATH. 349

_ 27. Marshes and fens are propitious to the natives, and
malignant to strangers, as touching the lengthening and

shortening of their lives; and that which may seem more

marvellous, salt marshes, where the sea ebbs and flows, are
less wholesome than those of fresh water.

28. The countries which have been observed to produce
long livers are these; Arcadia, Aitolia, India on this side
Ganges, Brazil, Taprobane, Britain, Ireland, with the islands
of the Orcades and Hebrides: for as for AXthiopia, which
by one of the ancients is reported to bring forth long livers,

‘itis buta toy.

. 29. It is a secret; the healthfulness of air; especially in
any perfection, is better found by experiment than by dis-
course or conjecture. You may make a trial by a lock of
wool exposed for a few days in the open air, if the weight
be not much increased ; another by a piece of flesh exposed
likewise, if it corrupt not over soon; another by a weather-
glass, if the water interchange not too suddenly. Of these,
and the like, inquire further.

30. Not only the goodness or pureness of the air, but also
the equality of the air, is material to long life. Intermix-
ture of hills and dales is pleasant to the sight, but suspected
for long life. A plain, moderately dry, but yet not over
barren or sandy, nor altogether without trees and shade, is
very convenient for length of life. |

31. Inequality of air (as was even now said) in the place
of our dwelling is nought; but change of air by travelling,
after one be used unto it, is good, and, therefore, great tra-
vellers have been long lived. Also those that have lived
eepetually in a little cottage, in the same place, have been

ong livers; for air accustomed consumeth less, but air
changed nourisheth and repaireth more.

32. As the continuation and number of successions (which
we said before) makes nothing to the length and shortness
of life, so the immediate condition of the parents (as well
the father as the mother) without doubt availeth much.
For some are begotten of old men, some of young men, some
of men of middle age. Again, some are begotten of fathers
healthful and well disposed, others of diseased and lan-
guishing. Again, some of fathers immediately after re-
pletion, or when they are drunk; others after sleeping, or
in the morning. Again, some after a long intermission of
Venus, others upon the act repeated. Again, some in the
fervency of the father’s love (as it is commonly in bastards),
others after the cooling of it, as in long married couples.

350 HISTORY OF

The same things may be considered on the part of the
mother, unto which must be added the condition of the
mother whilst she is with child, as touching her health, as
touching her diet, the time of her bearing in the womb, to
the tenth month or earlier. To reduce these things to a
rule, how far they may concern long life, is hard ; and so
much the harder, for that those things which a man would
conceive to be the best, will fall out to the contrary. For
that alacrity in the generation which begets lusty and lively
children, will be less profitable to long life, because of the
acrimony and inflaming of the spirits. We said before, that
to partake more of the mother’s blood conduceth to long life.
Also we suppose all things in moderation to be best; rather
conjugal love than meretricious ; the hour for generation to
be the morning, a state of body not too lusty or full, and
such like. It ought to be well observed, that a strong con-
stitution in the parents, is rather good for them than for
the child, especially in the mother. And therefore Plato
thought ignorantly enough, that the virtue of generations
halted, because the woman used not the same exercise both
of mind and body with the men. The contrary is rather
true; for the difference of virtue betwixt the male and the
female is most profitable for the child, and the thinner
women yield more towards the nourishment of the child,
which also holds in nurses. Neither did the Spartan
women, which married not before twenty-two, or, as some
say, twenty-five (and therefore were called manlike women),
bring forth a more generous or long lived progeny than
the Ronin or Athenian, or Theban women did, which
were ripe for marriage at twelve or fourteen years; and if
there were any thing eminent in the Spartans, that was
rather to be imputed to the parsimony of their diet, than
to the late marriages of their women. But this we are
taught by experience, that there are some races which are
long lived for a few descents, so that life is like some dis-
eases, a thing hereditary within certain bounds.

33. Fair in face, or skin, or hair, are shorter livers;
black, or red, or freckled, longer. Also too fresh a colour

in youth doth less promise long life than paleness. A hard |

skin is a sign of long life rather than a soft; but we under-

stand not this of a rugged skin, such as they call the goose- _

skin, which is, as it were, spungy, but of that which is hard }
and close. A forehead with deep furrows and wrinkles 1s _

a better sign than a smooth and plain forehead.

34. The hairs of the head hard, and like bristles, do be- |

LIFE AND DEATH. - S64

token longer life than those that are soft and delicate.
Curled hairs betoken the same thing, if they be hard
withal; but the contrary, if they be soft and shining ; the
like if the curling be rather thick in large bunches.

35. Early or late baldness is an indifferent thing, seeing
many which have been bald betimes have lived long. Also
early gray hairs (howsoever they may seem forerunners of
old age approaching), are no sure signs, for many that have
grown gray betimes, have lived to great years; nay, hasty
gray hairs, without baldness, is a token of long life; con-
trarily, if they be accompanied with baldness.

36. Hairiness of the upper parts is a sign of short life,and _
they that have extraordinary much hair on their breasts,
live not long; but hairiness of the lower parts, as of the
thighs and legs, is a sign of long life.

37. Tallness of stature (if it be not immoderate), with
convenient making, and not too slender, especially if the
body be active withal, is a sign of long life. Also on the
contrary, men of low stature live long, if they be not too
active and stirring.

38.. In the proportion of the body, they which are short
to the waists, with long legs, are longer lived than they
which are long to the waists, and have short legs. Also
they which are large in the nether parts, and straight in the
upper (the making of their body rising, as it were, into a
sharp figure), are longer lived than they that have broad
shoulders, and are slender downwards.

39. Leanness, where the affections are settled, calm, and
peaceable; also a more fat habit of body, joined with choler,
and a disposition stirring and peremptory, signify long life ;
but corpulency in youth foreshows short life; in age it is a
thing more indifferent.

40. To be long and slow in growing, is a sign of long
life; if to a greater stature, the greater sign; if to a lesser
stature, yet a sign; though, contrarily, to grow quickly to
a “ont stature, is an evil sign; if to a small stature, the less
evil.

4]. Firm flesh, a rawbone body, and veins lying higher
than the flesh, betoken long life; the contrary to these,
short life.

42. A head somewhat lesser than to the proportion of the
body, a moderate neck, not long, nor slender, nor flat, nor
too short; wide nostrils, whatsoever the form of the nose
be; a large mouth, and ear gristly, not fleshy ; teeth strong
and contiguous, small or thin set, foretoken long life; and

352 HISTORY OF

much more, if some new teeth put forth in our elder
years. a

43. A broad breast, yet not bearing out, but rather bend-
ing inwards; shoulders somewhat crooked, and (as they call
such persons) round-backed, a flat belly, a hand large, and —
with few lines in the palm; a short and round foot, thighs
not fleshy, and calves of the legs not hanging over, but neat,
are signs of long life. 1d

44. Eyes somewhat large, and the circles of them inclined
to greenness; senses not too quick; the pulse in youth
slower, towards old age quicker; facility of holding the

breath, and longer than usual; the body in youth inclined
to be bound, in the decline of years more laxative, are also
signs of long life. |

45. Concerning the times of nativity, as they refer to
long life, nothing has been observed worthy the setting
down, save only astrological observations, which we re-
jected in our topics. A birth at the eighth month is not only
long lived, but not likely to live. Also winter births are
accounted the longer lived.

46. A pythagorical or monastical diet, according to strict
rules, and always exactly equal (as that of Cornarus was),
seemeth to be very effectual for long life. Yet, on the con-
trary, amongst those that live freely, and after the common
sort, such as have good stomachs and feed more plentifully,
are often the longest lived. The middle diet, which we ac-
count the temperate, is commended, and conduceth to good
health, but not to long life; for the spare diet begets few
spirits, and dull, and so wasteth the body less; and the
liberal diet yieldeth more ample nourishment, and so re-
paireth more; but the middle diet doth neither of both;
for where the extremes are hurtful, there the mean is best;
but where the extremes are helpful, there the mean is no-
thing worth. ) |

Now to that spare diet there are requisite watching, lest
the spirits, being few, should be oppressed with much sleep ;
little exercise, lest they should exhale; abstinence from
venery, lest they should be exhausted; but to the liberal
diet, on the other side, are requisite much sleep, frequent
exercises, and a seasonable use of venery. Baths and
anointings (such as were anciently in use) did rather tend
to deliciousness, than to prolonging of life. But of all
these things we shall speak more exactly when we come to
the inquisition, according to intentions. Meanwhile that
of Celsus, who was not only a learned physician, but a wise

LIFE. AND DEATH. 353

man, is not to be omitted, who adviseth interchanging and
alternation of the diet, but still with an inclination to the
more benign; as that a man should sometimes accustom
himself to watching, sometimes to sleep, but to sleep often-
est. Again, that he should sometimes give himself to fasting,
sometimes to feasting, but to feasting oftenest; that he
should sometimes inure himself to great labours of the
mind, sometimes to relaxations of the same, but to relaxa-
tions oftenest. Certainly this is without all question, that
diet well ordered bears the greatest part in the prolonga-
tion of life; neither did I ever meet an extreme long lived
man, but being asked of his course, he observed something
peculiar; some one thing, some another. I remember an
old man, above a hundred years of age, who was produced,
as witness, touching an ancient prescription. When he had
finished his testimony, the judge familiarly asked him how
he came to live so long: He answered, beside expectation,
and not without the laughter of the hearers, By eating be-
fore I was hungry, and drinking before I was dry. But of
these things we shall speak hereafter.

47. A life led in religion, and in holy exercises, seemeth
to conduce to long life. There are in this kind of life these
things, leisure, admiration, and contemplation of heavenly
things, joys not sensual, noble hopes, wholesome fears,
sweet sorrows. Lastly, continual renovations by obser-
vances, penances, expiations, all which are very powerful
to the prolongation of life. Unto which if you add that
austere diet which hardeneth the mass of the body, and
humbleth the spirits, no marvel if an extraordinary length
of life do follow; such was that of Paul the hermit, Simeon
Stelita the columnar anchorite, and of many other hermits
and anchorites.

48. Next unto this is the lifeled in good letters,such as was
that of philosophers, rhetoricians, grammarians. This life
is also led in leisure, and in those thoughts, which, seeing
they are severed from the affairs of the world, bite not, but
rather delight, through their variety and impertinency.
They live also at their pleasure, spending their time in such
things as like them best, and for the most part in the com-
pany of young men, which is ever the most cheerful. But
in philosophies there is great difference betwixt the sects,
as touching long life; for those philosophies which have
in them a ious of superstition, and are conversant in
high contemplations, are the best, as the pythagorical and
platonic. Also those which did institute a perambulation of

VOL. XIV. AA

354 HISTORY OF

the world, and considered the variety of natural things, and
had reachless, and high, and magnanimous thoughts (as
of infinitum, of the stars, of the heroical virtues, and such
like), were good for lengthening of life; such were those
of Democritus Philolaus, Xenophanes, the astrologians and
stoics. Also those which had no profound speculation in
them, but discoursed calmly on both sides, out of common
sense and the received opinions, without any sharp inquisi-
tions, were likewise good ; such were those of Carneades and

the academics, also of the rhetoricians and grammarians,

But, contrary, philosophies conversant in perplexing subtil-
ties, and which pronounced peremptorily, and which exa-
mined and wrested all things to the scale of principles.
Lastly, which were thorny and narrow were evil; such
were those commonly of the peripateticks, and of the school-
men.

49. The country life also is well fitted for long life; it is
much abroad, and in the open air; it is not slothful, but
ever in employment ; it feedeth upon fresh cates, and un-
bought; it is without cares and envy. ,

50. For the military life, we have a good opinion of that
whilst a man is young. Certainly many excellent warriors
have been long lived; Corvinus, Camillus, Xenophon,
Agesilaus, with others, both ancient and modern. No doubt
it furthereth long life, to have all things from our youth
to our elder age mend, and grow to the better, that a

youth full of crosses may minister sweetness to our old age. —

We conceive also, that military affections, inflamed with a
desire of fighting, and hope of victory, do infuse such a heat
into the spirits, as may be profitable for long life.

Medicines for Long Life.
To the tenth article.

The art of physick, which we now have, looks no further
commonly than to conservation of health, and cure of dis-
eases. As for those things which tend properly to long
life, there is but slight mention, and by the way only. Not-
withstanding, we will propound those medicines which are
notable in this kind, I mean those which are cordials. For
it is consonant to reason, that those things which being
taken in cures do defend and fortify the heart, or, more truly,
the spirits, against poisons and diseases being transferred
with judgment and choice into diet, should have a good
effect, in some sort, towards the prolonging of life. This
we will do, not heaping them promiscuously together (as
the manner is), but selecting the best.

LIFE AND DEATH. $55

1. Gold is given in three forms, either in that which

they call aurum potabile, or in wine wherein gold hath
been quenched, or in gold in the substance, such as are

leaf-gold, and the filings of gold. As for aurum potabile,
it is used to be given in desperate or dangerous diseases,
and that not without good success. But we suppose that
the spirits of the salt, by which the gold is dissolved, do
rather minister that virtue which is found in it, than the
gold itself, though this secret be wholly suppressed. Now
if the body of gold could be opened with these corrosive
waters, or by these corrosive waters (so the venemous qua-
lity were wanting) well washed, we conceive it would be no
unprofitable medicine.

2. Pearls are taken either in a fine powder, or in a cer-
tain mass or dissolution, by the juice of four and new
lemons, and they are given sometimes in aromatical confec-
tions, sometimes in liquor. The pearl, no doubt, hath
some affinity with the shell in which it groweth, and may be
of the same quality with the shells of crawfishes.

3. Amongst the transparent precious stones, two only are
accounted cordial, the emerald and the jacinth, ahiok are
given under the same forms that the pearls are; save only
that the dissolutions of them, as far as we know, are not in
use. But we suspect these glassy jewels, lest they should
be cutting.

Of these which we have mentioned, how far and in what
manner they are helpful, shall be spoken hereafter.

4. Bezoar stone is of approved virtue for refreshing the
spirits and procuring a gentle sweat. As for the unicorn’s
horn, it hath lost the credit with us; yet so as it may keep
rank with hartshorn, and the bone in the heart of a hart,
and ivory, and such like.

Ambergris is one of the best to appease and comfort

- the spirits.

5. Hereafter follow the names only of the simple cor-
dials, seeing their virtues are sufficiently known.

Hot.—Saffron, folium indum, lignum aloes, citron pill
or rind, balm, basil, clove-gillyflowers, orange flowers, rose-
mary, mint, betony, carduus benedictus.

Cold.—Nitre, roses, violets, strawberry leaves, strawber-
ries, juice of sweet lemons, juice of sweet oranges, juice of
pearmains, borage, bugloss, burnet, sanders, camphire.

eeing our speech now is of those things which may be
transferred into diet, all hot waters and chymical oils (which,
as a certain trifler saith, are under the planet Mars, and have
a furious and destructive force) as also all hot and biting

356 HISTORY OF

spices are to be rejected, and a consideration to be had how
waters and liquors may be made of the former simples ; not
those phlegmatic distilled waters, nor again those burning
waters or spirits of wine, but such as may be more tem-

perate, and yet lively, and sending forth a benign vapour. .

6. I make some question touching the frequent letting of
blood, whether it conduceth to long life or not; and I am
rather in the opinion that it doth, if it be turned into a
habit, and other things be well disposed, for it letteth out
the old juice of the body and bringeth in new. |

I suppose also, that some emaciating diseases, well cured,

do profit to long life, for they yield new juice, the old being
consumed, and as (he saith) to recover a sickness, is to
renew youth. Therefore it were good to make some arti-
ficial diseases, which is done by strict and emaciating
diets, of which I shall speak hereafter.

The Intentions.

To the twelfth, thirteenth, and fourteenth articles.

Having finished the inquisition according to the subjects,
as, namely, of inanimate bodies, vegetables, living creatures,

man. I will come now nearer to the matter, and order

mine inquisitions by certain intentions, such as are true
and proper (as I am wholly persuaded), and which are the

very paths to mortal life. For in this part, nothing that

is of worth hath hitherto been inquired, but the contem-
plations of men have been but simple and non-proficients.
For when I hear men on the one side speak of comforting
natural heat, and the radical moisture, and of meats which
breed good blood, such as may neither be burnt nor phleg-
matic, and of the cheering and recreating the spirits, I
suppose them to be no bad men which speak these things ;
but none of these worketh effectually towards the end.

But when, on the other side, I hear several discourses

touching medicines made of gold, because gold is not sub-
ject to corruption ; and touching precious stones, to refresh
the spirits by their hidden properties and lustre, and that
if they could be taken and retained in vessels, the balsams
and quintessences of living creatures would make men con-
ceive a proud hope of immortality. And that the flesh of
serpents and harts, by a certain consent, are powerful to
the renovation of life, because the one casteth his skin, the
other his horns (they should also have added the flesh of

eagles, because the eagle changes his bill). And that a

LIFE AND DEATH. 357

certain man,when he had found an ointment hidden under the
ground, and had anointed himself therewith from head to
foot (excepting only the soles of his feet) did, by his anoint-
ing, live three hundred years without any disease, save only
some tumours in the soles of his feet. And of Artesius, who,
when he found his spirit ready to depart, drew into his body
the spirit of a certain young man, and thereby made him
br‘athless, but himself lived many years by another man’s
spirit. And of fortunate hours, according to the figures of
heaven, in which medicines are to be gathered and com-
pounded for the prolongation of life; and of the seals of
planets, by which virtues may be drawn and fetched down
from heaven to prolong life; and such like fabulous and
superstitious vanities. I wonder exceedingly that men
should so much dote as to suffer themselves to be deluded
with these things. And, again, I do pity mankind that
they should have the hard fortune to be besieged with such
frivolous and senseless apprehensions. But mine intentions
do both come home to the matter, and are far from vain
and credulous imaginations ; being also such, as I conceive,
posterity may add much to the matters which satisfy these
intentions; but to the intentions themselves, but a little.
Notwithstanding there are a few things, and those of very
great moment, of which I would have men to be forewarned.

First, We are of that opinion, that we esteem the offices
of life to be more worthy than life itself. Therefore if there
be any thing of that kind that may indeed exactly answer
our intentions yet so, that the offices and duties of life be
thereby hindered, whatsoever it be of this kind, we reject
it. Perhaps we may make some light mention of some
things, but we insist not upon them. For we make no
serious nor diligent discourse, either of leading the life in
caves, where the sunbeams and several changes of the air
pierce not, like Epimenides his cave; or of perpetual baths,
made of liquors prepared; or of shirts and searcloths so
applied, that the body should be always, as it were, in a
box; or of thick paintings of the body, after the manner of
some barbarous nations; or of an exact ordering of our life
and diet, which aimeth only at this, and mindeth nothing
else but that a man live (as was that of Herodicus amongst
the ancients, and of Cornarus the Venetian in our days, but
with greater moderation), or of any such prodigy, tedious-
ness, or inconvenience; but we propound such remedies
and precepts, by which the offices of life may neither be
deserted nor receive any great interruptions or molestations.

3908 HISTORY OF

Secondly, On'the other side, we denounce unto men that
they will give over trifling, and not imagine that so great a
work as the stopping and turning back the powerful course
of nature, can be brought to pass by some morning draught,
or the taking of some precious drug, but that they would
be assured that it must needs be, that this is a work of
labour, and consisteth of many remedies, and a fit connexion
of them amongst themselves ; for no man can be so stupid
as to imagine that what was never yet done can be done,
but by such ways as were never yet attempted.

Thirdly, We ingeniously profess that some of those things
which we shall propound, have not been tried by us by way
of experiment (for our course of life doth not permit that),
but are derived (as we suppose) upon good reasons, out of
our principles and grounds (of which some we set down, |
others we reserve in our mind), and are, as it were, cut and
digged out of the rock and mine of nature herself. Never-
theless, we have been careful, and that with all providence
and circumspection (seeing the scripture saith of the body
of man, that it is more worth than raiment), to propound
such remedies as may at least be safe, if peradventure they
be not fruitful.

Fourthly, We would have men rightly to observe and
distinguish that those things which are good for a healthful
life, are not always good for a long life; for there are some
things which do further the alacrity of the spirits, and the
strength and vigour of the functions, which, notwithstand-
ing, do cut off from the sum of life: and there are other
things which are profitable to prolongation of life, which
are not without some peril of health, unless this matter be
salved by fit remedies ; of which notwithstanding, as occa-
sion shall be offered, we will not omit to give some cautions
and monitions.

Lastly, We have thought good to propound sundry reme-
dies according to the several intentions, but the choice of
those remedies, and the order of them, to leave to discretion ;
for to set down exactly which of them agreeth best, with
which constitution of body, which with the several courses
of life, which with each man’s particular age, and how they
are to be taken one after another, and how the whole prac-
tique of these things is to be administered and governed,
would be too long, neither is it fit-to be published.

In the topics we propounded three intentions; the pro-
hibiting of consumption, the perfecting of reparation, and
the renewing of oldness. But seeing those things which

LIFE AND DEATH. . 359

shall be said are nothing less than words, we will deduce
these three intentions to ten operations.

1. The first is the operation upon the spirits, that they
may renew their vigour.

2. The second operation is upon the exclusion of the air.

3. The third operation is upon the blood, and the sangui-
fying heat.

4, The fourth operation is upon the juices of the body.

5. The fifth operation is upon the bowels, for their extru-
sion of aliment. -

6. The sixth operation is upon the outward parts, for their
attraction of aliment.

7. The seventh operation is upon the aliment itself, for
the insinuation thereof.

8. The eighth operation is upon the last act of assimila-
tion.

9. The ninth operation is upon the inteneration of the.
parts, after they begin to be dried.

10. The tenth operation is upon the purging away of old
juice, and supplying of new juice.

Of these operations, the four first belong to the first in-
tention, the four next to the second intention, and the two
last to the third intention.

But because this part touching the intentions doth tend
to practice, under the name of history, we will not only
comprise experiments and observations, but also counsels,
remedies, explications of causes, assumptions, and what-
soever hath reference hereunto.

1. The Operation upon the Spirits, that they may remain
Youthful, and renew their Vigour.

The History.

1, The spirits are the master workmen of all effects in
the body. This is manifest by consent, and by infinite
instances.

2. If any man could procure that a young man’s spirit
could be conveyed into an old man’s body, it is not unlikely
but this great wheel of the spirits might turn about the
lesser wheel of the parts, and so the course of nature become
retrograde.

3. In every consumption, whether it be by fire or by age,
the more the spirit of the body, or the heat, preyeth upon
the moisture, the lesser is the duration of that thing. This
occurs every where, and is manifest.

4. The spirits are to be put into such a temperament and

360 HISTORY OF

degree of activity, that they should not (as he saith) drink
and guzzle the juices of the body, but sip them only.

5. There are two kinds of flames, the one eager and weak,
which consumes slight substances, but hath little power
over the harder, as the flame of straw or small sticks: the
other strong and constant, which converts hard and obsti-
nate substances; as the flame of hard wood, and such like.

6. The eager flames, and yet less robust do dry bodies,
and render them exhaust and sapless; but the stronger
flames do intenerate and melt them.

7. Also in dissipating medicines, some vapour forth the
thin part of the tumours or swellings, and these harden the
tumour; others potently discuss, and these soften it.

8. Also in purging and absterging medicines, some carry
away the fluid humours violently, others draw the more
obstinate and viscous.

9. The spirits ought to be invested and armed with such
a heat, that they may choose rather to stir and undermine
hard and obstinate matters, than to discharge and carry
away the thin and prepared: for by that means the body
becomes green and solid.

10. The spirits are so to be wrought and tempered, that
they may be in substance dense, not rare; in heat strong,
not eager; in quantity sufficient for the offices of life, not
redundant or turgid; in motion appeased, not dancing or
unequal.

11. That vapours work powerfully upon the spirits it is
manifest by sleep, by drunkenness, by melancholic passions,
by letificant medicines, by odours, calling the spirits back
again in swoonings and faintings.

12. The spirits are condensed four ways ; either by put-
ting them to flight, or by refrigerating and cooling them,
or by stroking them, or by quieting them. And first of
their condensation, by putting them to flight.

13. Whatsoever putteth to flight on all parts driveth the
body into his centre, and so condenseth.

14. To the condensation of the spirits by flight, the most
powerful and effectual is opium, and next opiates, and ge-
nerally all soporiferous things.

15. The force of opium to the condensation of the spirits
is exceeding strong, when as perhaps three grains thereof
will in a short time so coagulate the spirits, that they return
no more, but are extinguished, and become immoveable.

16. Opium, and the like, put not the spirits to flight by
their coldness, for they have parts manifestly hot, but on
the contrary cool by their putting the spirits to flight.

LIFE AND DEATH. 361

17. The flight of the spirits by opium and opiate medi-
cines is best seen by applying the same outwardly, for the
spirits straight withdraw themselves, and will return no
more, but the part is mortified, and turns to a gangrene.

18. Opiates in grievous pains, as in the stone, or the
cutting off of a limb, mitigate pains most of all, by putting
the spirits to flight. .

19. Opiates obtain a good effect from a bad cause ; for
the flight of the spirits is evil, but the condensation of them
through their flight is good.

20. The Grecians attributed much both for health and
for prolongation of life, as opiates, but the Arabians much
more, insomuch that their grand medicines (which they
called the god’s hands) had opium for their basis and prin-
cipal ingredient, other things being mixed to abate and
correct the noxious qualities thereof; such were treacle,
mithridate, and the rest.

21. Whatsoever is given with good success in the curing
of pestilential and malignant diseases, to stop and bridle
the spirits, lest they grow turbulent and tumultuous, may
very happily be transferred to the prolongation of life; for
one thing is effectual unto both, namely, the condensation
of the spirits: now there is nothing better for that than
opiates.

22. The Turks find opium, even in a reasonable good
quantity, harmless and comfortable, insomuch that they

‘take it before their battles to excite courage; but to us,
unless it be in a very small quantity, and with good cor-
rectives, it is mortal.

23. Opium and opiates are manifestly found to excite
Venus; which shows them to have force to corroborate the
spirits.

04. Distilled water out of wild poppy is given with good

success in surfeits, acues, and divers diseases; which, no
doubt, is a temperate kind of opiate. Neither let any man
wonder at the various use of it, for that is familiar to opiates,
in regard that the spirits, corroborated and condensed, will
rise up against any disease.

25. The Turks use a kind of herb which they call caphe,
which they dry and powder, and then drink in warm water,
which they say doth not a little sharpen them both in their
courage and in their wits; notwithstanding, if it be taken
ina large quantity, it affects and disturbs the mind; whereby
it is manifest, that it is of the same nature with opiates.

26. There is a root much renowned in all the eastern
parts which they call betel, which the Indians and others

362 HISTORY OF

use to carry in their mouths, and to champ it, and by that

champing they are wonderfully enabled both to endure
labours, and to overcome sicknesses, and to the act of carnal
copulation : it seems to be a kind of stupefactive, because
it exceedingly blacks the teeth.

27. Tobacco in our age is immoderately grown into use,
and it affects men with a secret kind of delight, insomuch
that they who have once inured themselves unto it, can
hardly afterwards leave it; and no doubt it hath power to
lighten the body, and to shake off weariness. Now the
virtue of it is commonly thought to be, because it opens the
passages, and voids humours; but it may more rightly be
referred to the condensation of the spirits, for it is a kind
of henbane, and manifestly troubles the head as opiates do.

28. There are sometimes humours ingendered in the body,
which are as it were opiate themselves; as it is in some
kind of melancholies, with which if a man be affected it is
a sign of very long life. 3

29. The simple opiates (which are also called stupefac-
tives) are these; opium itself, which is the juice of poppy,
both the poppies as well in the herb as in the seed, hen-
bane, mandrake, hemlock, tobacco, nightshade.

30. The compound opiates are, treacle, mithridate, trifera,
laudanum, paracelsi, diaconium, diascordium, philonium,
pills of houndstongue. :

31. From this which hath been said, certain designa-
tions or counsels may be deduced for the prolongation of
life, according to the present intention, namely, of condens-
ing the spirits by opiates.

32. Let there be therefore every year, from adult years
of youth, an opiate diet; let it be taken about the end of
May, because the spirits in the summer are more loose and
attenuated, and there are less dangers from cold humours ;
let it be some magistral opiate, weaker than those that are
commonly in use, both in respect of a smaller quantity of
opium, and of a more sparing mixture of extreme hot things;
let it be taken in the morning betwixt sleeps. The fare for

|
|

that time would be more simple and sparing than ordinary, |

without wine, or spices, or vapourous things. This medi-
cine to be taken only each other day, and to be continued
for a fortnight. This designation in our judgment comes
home to the intention. |

33. Opiates also may be taken not only by the mouth,

but also by fumes; but the fumes must be such as may not ©

move the expulsive faculty too strongly, nor force down

LIFE AND DEATH. 5 363

humours, but only taken in a weft, may work upon the
spirits within the brain. And, therefore, a suffumigation
of tobacco, lignum aloes, rosemary leaves dried, and a little
myrrh snuffed up in the morning at the mouth and nostrils,
would be very good.

34. In grand opiates, such as are treacle, mithridate,
and the rest, it would not be amiss (especially in youth) to
take rather the distilled waters of them, than themselves in
their bodies; for the vapour in distilling doth rise, but the
heat of the medicine commonly settleth. Now, distilled
waters are good in those virtues which are conveyed by
vapours in other things but weak.

35. There are medicines which have a certain weak and
hidden degree, and therefore safe to an opiate virtue: these
send forth a slow and copious vapour, but not malignant as
opiates do; therefore they put not the spirits to flight not-
ne they congregate them, and somewhat thicken
- them.

36. Medicines, in order to opiates, are principally saffron,
next folium indum, ambergris, coriander seed prepared,
amomum, pseuda momum, lignum rhodium, orange flower
water, and much more the infusion of the same flowers new
an in the oil of almonds, nutmegs pricked full of
holes and macerated in rosewater.

37. As opiates are to be taken very sparingly, and at
certain times, as was said, so these secondaries may be
taken familiarly, and in our daily diet, and they will be
very effectual to prolongation of life. Certainly an apothe-
cary of Calecute, by the use of amber, is said to have lived
a hundred and sixty years, and the noblemen of Barbary
through the use thereof are certified to be very long lived,
whereas the mean people are but of short life. And our
ancestors, who were longer lived than we, did use saffron
much in their cakes, broths, and the hke. And touching
the first way of condensing the spirits of opiates, and the
subordinates thereto, thus much.

38. Now we will inquire of the second way of condensing
the spirits by cold, for the proper work of cold is condensa-
tion, and it is done without any malignity, or adverse qua-
lity; and therefore it is a safer operation than by opiates,
though somewhat less powerful, if it be done by turns only
as opiates are. But then again, because it may be used
familiarly, and in our daily diet with moderation, it is much
more powerful for the prolongation of life than by opiates.

39. The refrigeration of the spirits is effected three ways,

364 HISTORY OF

either by respiration, or by vapours, or by aliment. The
first is the best, but, in a sort, out of our power; the second
is potent, but yet ready and at hand; the third is weak
and somewhat about. ;

40. Air clear and pure, and which hath no fogginess in
it before it be received into the lungs, and which is least
exposed to the sunbeams, condenseth the spirits best. Such
is found either on the tops of dry mountains, or in cham-
paigns open to the wind, and yet not without some shade.

4]. As for the refrigeration and condensation of the spirits
by vapours, the root of this operation we place in nitre, as
a creature purposely made and chosen for this end, being
thereunto led and persuaded by these arguments.

42. Nitre is a kind of cool spice; this is apparent to the
sense itself, for it bites the tongue and palate with cold, as
spices do with heat, and it is the only thing, as far as we
know, that hath this property.

43. Almost all cold things (which are cold properly and
not by accident, as opium is) are poor and jejune of spirit;
contrarily, things full of spirit are almost all hot, only nitre
is found amongst vegetables, which aboundeth with spirit
and yet is cold. As for camphire, which is full of spirit,
and yet performeth the actions of cold, it cooleth by acci-
dent only, as namely, for that by the thinness thereof,
without acrimony, it helpeth perspiration in inflammations.

44. In congealing and freezing of liquors (which is lately
grown into use) by laying snow and ice on the outside of
the vessel, nitre is also added, and no doubt it exciteth and
fortifieth the congelation. It is true, that they use also
for this work ordinary baysalt, which doth rather give
activity to the coldness of the snow, than cool by itself;
but, as I have heard, in the hotter regions, where snow
falls not, the congealing is wrought by nitre alone; but this
I cannot certainly affirm. :

45. It is affirmed that gunpowder, which consisteth prin-
cipally of nitre, being taken in drink doth conduce to valour,
and that it is used oftentimes by mariners and soldiers
before they begin their battles, as the turks do opium.

46. Nitre is given with good success in burning agues,

and pestilential fevers, to mitigate and bridle their perni- |

cious heats.

47. It is manifest, that nitre in gunpowder doth mightily |

abhor the flame, from whence is caused that horrible crac
and puffing.

«o

48. Nitre is found to be, as it were, the spirit of the |

LIFE AND DEATH. 365

earth; for this is most certain, that any earth, though pure
and unmixed with nitrous matter, if it be so laid up and
covered, that it be free from the sunbeams, and putteth
forth no vegetable, will gather nitre, even in good abun-
dance. By which it is clear, that the spirit of nitre is not
only inferior to the spirit of living creatures, but also to the
spirit of vegetables.

49. Cattle, which drink of nitrous water, do manifestly
erow fat, which is a sign of the cold in nitre.

50. The manuring of the soil is chiefly by nitrous sub-
stances ; for all dung is nitrous, and this is a sign of the
spirit in nitre.

51. From hence it appears, that the spirits of man may
be cooled and condensed by the spirit of nitre, and be made
more crude and less eager. And, therefore, as strong wines,
and spices, and the like, do burn the spirits and shorten
life; so on the contrary side, nitre doth compose and repress
them, and furthereth to life.

52. Nitre may be used with meat, mixed with our salt,
to the tenth part of the salt; in broths taken in the morn-
ing, for three grains to ten, also in beer; but howsoever
it be used, with moderation, it is of prime force to long
life.

53. As opium holds the preeminence in condensing the
spirits, by putting them to flight, and hath withal his
subordinates less potent, but more safe, which may be.
taken both in greater quantity and in more frequent use, of
which we have formerly spoken. So also nitre, which
condenseth the spirits by cold, and by a kind of frescour
(as we now a days speak), hath also his subordinates.

54. Subordinates to nitre are, all those things which
yield an odour somewhat earthy, like the smell of earth,
pure and good, newly digged or turned up; of this sort the
chief are, borage, bugloss, langue de beeuf, burnet, strawberry
leaves, and strawberries, frambois, or raspis, raw cucumbers,
raw pearmains, vine leaves, and buds, also violets.

55. The next in order, are those which have a certain
freshness of smell, but somewhat more. inclined to heat,
yet not altogether void of that virtue of refreshing by cool-
ness; such as are balm, green citrons, green oranges, rose-
water distilled, roasted wardens; also the damask, red, and
musk roses.

56. This is to be noted, that subordinates to nitre do
commonly confer more to this intension raw, than having
passed the fire, because that the spirit of cooling is dissi-

366 HISTORY OF

pated by the fire, therefore they are best taken either in-
fused in some liquor, or raw.

57. As the condensation of the spirits by subordinates to
opium is, in some sort, performed by odours, so also that
which is by subordinates to nitre; therefore the smell of
new and pure earth, taken either by following the plough,
or by digging, or by weeding, excellently refresheth the
spirits. Also the leaves of trees in woods, or hedges, fall-
ing towards the middle of autumn, yield a good refreshing
to the spirits, but none so good as strawberry leaves dying.

Likewise the smell of violets, or wallflowers, or bean- —

flowers, or sweetbriar, or honeysuckles, taken as they grow,
in passing by them only, is of the same nature.

58. Nay, and we know a certain great lord who lived
long, that had every morning, immediately after sleep, a
clod of fresh earth laid in a fair napkin under his nose, that
he might take the smell thereof.

59. There is no doubt but the cooling and tempering of
the blood by cool things, such as are endive, succory, lever-
wort, purslain, and the like, do also by consequent cool
the spirits. But this is about, whereas vapours cool imme-
diately.

60. And as touching the condensing of the spirits. by

cold, thus much. The third way of condensing the spirits
we said to be by that which we call stroking the spirits,
The fourth, by quieting the alacrity and unruliness of them,

61. Such things stroke the spirits as are pleasing and |
friendly to them, yet they allure them not to go abroad; —

but rather prevail, that the spirits, contented as it were in
their own society, do enjoy themselves, and betake them-
selves into their proper centre. :

61. For these, if you recollect those things which were
formerly set down, as subordinates to opium and nitre, there
will need no other inquisition.

62. As for. the quieting of the unruliness of the spirits, |
we shall presently speak of that, when we inquire touching |

their motion. Now then, seeing we have spoken of that

condensation of the spirits which pertaineth to their sub- |

stance, we will come to the temper of heat in them.

63. The heat of the spirits, as we said, ought to be of |

that kind, that it may be robust, not eager, and may delight |
rather to master the tough and obstinate, than to carry away ©

the thin and light humours.

64. We must beware of spices, wine, and strong drinks, |
that our use of them be very temperate, and sometimes dis- |

seen eceaar Nin onlin

LIFE AND DEATH. 367

continued. Also of savory, wild marjorum, pennyroyal, and
all such as bite and heat the tongue; for they yield unto

the spirits a heat not operative, but predatory.

65. These yield a robust heat, especially elecampane,
garlick, carduus benedictus, watercresses, while they are

young, germander, angelica, zedoary, vervin, valerian,

myrrh, pepperwort, elder flowers, garden chervile. The
use of these things, with choice and judgment, sometimes
in sallads, sometimes in medicines, will satisfy this opera-
tion.

66. It falls out well, that the grand opiates will also serve
excellently for this operation, in respect that they yield such
a heat by composition, which is wished, but not to be found
in simples. For the mixing of those excessive hot things
(such as are euphorbium, pellitory of Spain, stavisacre,

dragonwort, anacordi, castoreum, aristolochium, opponax,

ammoniachum, galbanum, and the like, which of them-
selves cannot be taken inwardly), to qualify and abate the
stupefactive virtue of the opium, they do make such a con-
stitution of a medicament as we now require; which is ex-
cellently seen in this, that treacle and mithridate, and the
rest, are not sharp, nor bite the tongue, but are only some-
what bitter, and of strong scent, and at last manifest their
heat when they come into the stomach, and in their subse-
quent operations.

67. There conduces also to the robust heat of the spirits

Venus often excited, rarely performed; and no less some
of the affections, of which shall be spoken hereafter. So
touching the heat of the spirits, analogical to the prolonga-
tion of life, thus much.
_ 68. Touching the quantity of the spirits, that they be not
exuberant and boiling, but rather sparing, and within a
mean (seeing a small flame doth not devour so much as a
great flame), the inquisition will be short.

69. It seems to be approved by experience, that a spare
diet, and almost a pythagorical, such as is either prescribed
by the strict rules of a monastical life, or practised by her-
mits, which have necessity and poverty for their rule, ren-
dereth a man long lived.

70. Hitherto appertain drinking of water, a hard bed,
abstinence from fire, a slender diet (as, namely, of herbs,
fruits, flesh, and fish, rather powdered and salted, than fresh
and hot, a hair shirt, frequent fastings, frequent watch-
ings, few sensual pleasures, and such like; for all these di-
minish the spirits, and reduce them to such a quantity as

368 HISTORY OF

may be sufficient only for the functions of life, whereby the
depredation is the less.

71, But if the diet shall not be altogether so rigorous and
mortifying, yet, notwithstanding, shall be always equal and
constant to itself, it worketh the same effect. We see it in
flames, that a flame somewhat bigger (so it be always alike

and quiet) consumeth less of the fuel, than a lesser flame

blown with bellows, and by gusts stronger or weaker. That
which the regiment and diet of Cornarus the Venetian

showed plainly, who did eat and drink so many years toge-

ther by a just weight, whereby he exceeded a hundred years
of age, strong in limbs, and entire in his senses.

72. Care also must be taken, that a body, plentifully
nourished, and not emaciated by any of these aforesaid diets,

omitteth not a seasonable use of Venus, lest the spirits in-

crease too fast, and soften and destroy the body. So then,
touching a moderate quantity of spirits, and (as we may
say) frugal, thus much. 3

73. The inquisition, touching bridling the motions of the

spirits, followeth next. Motion doth manifestly attenuate
and inflame them. This bridling is done by three means ;
by sleep, by avoiding of vehement labours, immoderate ex-
ercise, and, in a word, all lassitude; and by refraining irk-
some affections. And, first, touching sleep. 3

74. The fable tells us, that Epimenides slept many years
together in a cave, and all that time needed no meat, be-
cause the spirit waste not much in sleep.

75. Experience teacheth us that certain creatures, as
dormice and bats, sleep in some close places a whole winter
together; such is the force of sleep to restrain all vital
consumption. That which bees or drones are also thought
to do, though sometimes destitute of honey, and likewise
butterflies and other flies.

76. Sleep after dinner (the stomach sending up no un-
pleasing vapours to the head, as being the first dews of our
meat) is good for the spirits, but derogatory and hurtful
to all other points of health. Notwithstanding in extreme

old age there is the same reason of meat and sleep, for both |

our meals and our sleeps should be then frequent, but short
and little; nay, and towards the last period of old age,a
mere rest, and, as it were, a perpetual reposing doth best,
especially in winter time.

77. But as moderate sleep conferreth to long life, so much |

more if it be quiet and not disturbed.

78. These procure quiet sleep, vio

lets, lettuce, especially |

LIFE AND DEATH. 369

boiled, syrup of dried roses, saffron, balm, apples, at our
going to bed; a sop of bread in malmsey, especially where
- musk roses have been first infused ; therefore it would not be
amiss to make some pill or a small draught of these things,
and to use it familiarly. Also those things which shut the
mouth of the stomach close, as coriander seed prepared,
quinces and wardens roasted, do induce sound sleep; but
above all things in youth, and for those that have sufficient
strong stomachs, it will be best to take a good draught of
clear cold water when they go to bed.

Touching voluntary and procured trances, as also fixed
and profound thoughts, so as they be without irksomeness,
I have nothing certain; no doubt they make to this inten-
_tion, and condense the spirits, and that more potently than
sleep, seeing they lay asleep, and suspend the senses as
much or more. Touching them, let further inquiry be
made. So far touching sleep.

79. As for motion and exercise, lassitude hurteth, and so
doth all motion and exercise which is too nimble and swift,
as running, tennis, fencing, and the like; and, again, when
our strength is extended and strained to the uttermost, as
dancing, wrestling, and such like; for it is certain, that the
spirits being driven into straights, either by the swiftness
of the motion, or by the straining of the forces, do after-
ward become more eager and predatory. On the other
side, exercises which stir up a good strong motion, but not
over swift, or to our utmost strength (such as are leaping,
shooting, riding, bowling, and the like), do not hurt, but -
rather benefit.

We must come now to the affections and passions of the
mind, and see which of them are hurtful to long life, which
profitable.

80. Great joys attenuate and diffuse the spirits, and
shorten life ; familiar cheerfulness strengthens the spirits,
by calling them forth, and yet not resolving them.

81. Impressions of joy in the sense are nought; rumina-
tions of joy in the memory, or apprehensions of them in
hope or fancy, are good.

82. Joy suppressed, or communicated sparingly, doth
more comfort the spirits than joy poured forth and published.

83. Grief and sadness, if it be void of fear, and afflict
not too much, doth rather prolong life; for it contracteth
the spirits, and is a kind of condensation.

84. Great fears shorten the life; for though grief and
fear do both strengthen the spirit, yet in grief there is a

VOL, XIV. BB

370 HISTORY OF

simple contraction; but in fear, by reason of the cares taken _

for the remedy, and hopes intermixed, there is a turmoil
and vexing of the spirits. |

85. Anger suppressed is also a kind of vexation, and
causeth the spirit to feed upon the juices of the body; but
let loose and breaking forth, it helpeth ; as those medicines
do, which induce a robust heat.

86. Envy is the worst of all passions, and feedeth upon
the spirits, and they again upon the body, and so much
the more, because it is perpetual, and, as it is said, keepeth
no holidays.

87. Pity of another man’s misfortune, which is not likely
to befall ourselves, is good; but pity, which may reflect
with some similitude upon the party pitying, is nought, be-
cause it exciteth fear.

88. Light shame hurteth not, seeing it contracteth the

spirits a little, and then straight diffuseth them, insomuch
that shamefaced persons commonly live long; but shame
for some great ignominy, and which afllicteth the mind
long, contracteth the spirits even to suffocation, and is per-
nicious.

89. Love, if it be not unfortunate, and too deeply wound-
ing, is a kind of joy,and is subject to the same laws which
we have set down touching joy. |

90. Hope is the most beneficial of all the affections, and
doth much to the prolongation of life, if it be not too often
frustrated, but entertaineth the fancy with an expectation

of good; therefore they which fix and propound to them- _

selves some end, as the mark and scope of their life, and _

continually and by degrees go forward in the same, are, for
the most part, long lived ; insomuch that when they are come
to the top of their hope, and can go no higher thereim,

they commonly droop, and live not long after. So that —

hope is a leafjoy, which may be beaten out to a great ex-

tension, like gold.
91. Admiration and light contemplation are very power-

ful to. the prolonging of life; for they hold the spirits in|

such things as delight them, and suffer them not to tumul-

tuate, or to carry themselves unquietly and waywardly. |

And, therefore, all the contemplators of natural things,

which had so many, and eminent objects to admire (as)

Democritus, Plato, Parmenides, Apollonius), were long.
lived; also rhetoricians, which tasted but lightly of things, |

and studied rather exornation of speech than profundity of
matters, were also long lived ; as Gorgias, Protagoras, Iso- |

LIFE AND DEATH. 37 |

erates, Seneca. And, certainly, as old men are for the
most part talkative, so talkative men do often grow very
old: for it shows a light contemplation, and such as do not
much strain the spirits, or vex them; but subtile and acute,
and eager inquisition shortens life, for it tiyeth the spirits,
and wasteth it. ;

And as touching the motion of the spirits, by the affec-
tions of the mind, thus much. Now we will add certain
other general observations touching the spirits, beside the
former, which fall not into the precedent distribution.

92. Especial care must be taken that the spirits be not
too often resolved; for attenuation goeth before resolution,
and the spirit once attenuated doth not very easily retire, or
is condensed. Now resolution is caused by over great la-
bours, over vehement affections of the mind, over great
sweats, over great evacuation, hot baths, and an untem-
perate and unseasonable use of Venus; also by over great
cares and carpings, and anxious expectations ; lastly, by
malignant diseases, and intolerable pains and torments of
the body; all which, as much as may be (which our vulgar
physicians also advise), must be avoided.

_ 93. The spirits are delighted both with wonted things
. and with new. Now it maketh wonderfully to the con-
-servation of the spirits in vigour, that we neither use wonted
things to a satiety and glutting; nor new things, before a
quick and strong appetite. And, therefore, both customs
are to be broken off with judgment and care, before they
breed a fulness ; and the appetite after new things to be res-
trained for a time until it grow more sharp and jocund ;
and, moreover, the life,as much as may be, so to be ordered,
that it may have many renovations, and the spirits, by per-
a conversing in the same actions, may not wax dull.
or though it were no ill saying of Seneca’s, The fool doth
ever begin to live; yet this folly, and many more such, are
good for long life.

94. It is to be observed touching the spirits (though the
contrary used to be done), that when men perceive their
spirits to be in good, placid, and healthful state (that which
will be seen by the tranquillity of their mind, and cheerful
disposition), that they cherish them, and not change them ;
but when, in a turbulent and untoward state (which will
also appear by their sadness, lumpishness, and other in-
disposition of their mind), that then they straight over-
whelm them, and alter them. Now the spirits are con-
tained in the same state, by a restraining of the affections,

372 HISTORY OF

temperateness of diet, abstinence from Venus, moderation
in labour, indifferent rest and repose: and the contrary to
these do alter and overwhelm the spirits ; as namely, vehe-
ment affections, profuse feastings, immoderate Venus, diffi-
cult labours, earnest studies, and-prosecution of business.
Yet men are wont, when they are merriest and best dis-
posed, then to apply themselves to feastings, Venus, la-
bours, endeavours, businesses, whereas if they have a regard
to long life (which may seem strange), they should rather
practice the contrary. For we ought to cherish and pre-
serve good spirits; and for the evil disposed spirits to dis-
charge and alter them. _

95. Ficinus saith not unwisely, that old men, for the
comforting of their spirits, ought often to remember and
ruminate upon the acts of their childhood and youth; cer-
tainly such a remembrance is a kind of peculiar recreation
to every old man: and therefore it is a delight to men to
enjoy the society of them which have been brought up
together with them, and to visit the places of their educa-
tion. Vespasian did attribute so much to this matter, that
when he was Emperor, he would by no means be persuaded
to leave his father’s house, though but mean, lest he should
lose the wonted object of his eyes, and the memory of his

childhood. And besides, he would drink in a wooden cup .

tipped with silver, which was his grandmother’s, upon fes-
tival days.

96. One thing above all is grateful to the spirits, that
there be a continual progress to the more benign; there-
fore we should lead such a youth and manhood, that our
old age should find new solaces, whereof the chief is mode-
rate ease: and therefore old men in honourable places lay
violent hands upon themselves, who retire not to their ease;
whereof may be found an eminent example in Cassiodorus,

who was of that reputation amongst the gothish kings of —

Italy, that he was as the soul of their affairs; afterwards,
being near eighty years of age, he betook himself to a mo-
nastery, where he ended not his days before he was a
hundred years old. But this thing doth require two cau-
tions: one, that they drive not off till their bodies be
utterly worn out and diseased ; for in such bodies all mu-

tation, though to the more benign, hasteneth death; the —
other, that they surrender not themselves to a sluggish —
ease, but that they embrace something which may enter- _

f
i

tain their thoughts and mind with contentation ; in which

kind, the chief delights are reading and contemplation, and

then the desires of building and planting.

{
i
|
{

LIFE AND DEATH. 373

97. Lastly: the same action, endeavour and labour, un-
dertaken cheerfully and with a good will, doth refresh the
spirits, but with an aversation and unwillingness, doth fret
and deject them; and therefore it conferreth to long life,
either that a man hath the art to institute his life so as it
may be free and suitable to his own humour, or else to lay
such a command upon his mind, that whatsoever is imposed
by fortune, it may rather lead him than drag him.

98. Neither is that to be omitted towards the govern-
ment of the affections, that especial care be taken of the
mouth of the stomach, especially that it be not too much
relaxed ; for that part hath a greater dominion over the
affections, especially the daily affections, than either the
heart or brain, only those things excepted which are
oe by potent vapours, as in drunkenness and melan-
choly. |

99. Touching the operation upon the spirits, that they
may remain youthful, and renew their vigour thus much,
which we have done more accurately, for that there is for
the most part amongst physicians, and other authors, touch-
ing these operations, a deep silence; but especially, because
the operation upon the spirits, and their waxing green
again, is the most ready and compendious way to long life,
and that for a twofold compendiousness ; one, because the
spirits work compendiously upon the body ; the other,
because vapours and the affections work compendiously
upon the spirits, so as these attain the end, as it were, in a
right line, other things rather in lines circular.

u1. The Operation upon the Exclusion of the Air.
The History.

1. The exclusion of the air ambient tendeth to length
of life two ways; first, for that the external air, next unto
the native spirits, howsoever the air may be said to ani-
mate the spirit of man, and conferreth nota little to health,
doth most of all prey upon the juices of the body, and
hasten the desiccation thereof; and therefore the exclusion
of it is effectual to length of life.

2. Another effect which followeth the exclusion of air is
much more subtile and profound: namely, that the body
closed up, and not-perspiring by the pores, detaineth the
Spirits within, and turneth it upon the harder parts of the
body, whereby the spirit mollifies and intenerates them.

_ 3. Of this thing, the reason is explained in the desicca-
tion of inanimate bodies, and it is an axiom almost infal-

374 , HISTORY OF

lible, that the spirit discharged and issuing forth, drieth
bodies; detained, melteth and intenerateth them, And it
is further to be assumed, that all heat doth properly atte-
nuate and moisten, and contracteth and drieth only by
accident.

4. Leading the life in dens and caves, where the air
receives not the sunbeams, may be effectual to long life.
For the air of itself doth not much towards the depredation
of the body, unless it be stirred up by heat. Certainly, if
a man shall recall things past to his memory, it will appear
that the statures of men have been anciently much greater

than those that succeeded, as in Sicily, and some other —
places: but this kind of men led their lives, for the most _

part, in caves. Now length of life, and largeness of limbs,
have some aflinity; the cave also of Epimenides walks
among the fables. 1 suppose likewise, that the life of
columnar anchorites was a thing resembling the life in

caves, in respect the sunbeams could not much pierce —

thither, nor the air receive any great changes or inequali-
ties. This is certain, both the Simeon Stelitas, as well
Daniel as Saba, and other columnar anchorites, have been
exceeding long lived; likewise the anchorites in our days,
closed up and immured either within walls or pillars, are
often found to be long lived.

5. Next unto the life in caves, is the life on mountains:
for as the beams of the sun do not penetrate into caves, so
on the tops of mountains, being destitute of reflection, they
are of small. force. But this is to be understood of moun-
tains where the air is clear and pure; namely, whether by
reason of the dryness of the valleys, clouds and vapours do
not ascend, as it is in the mountains which encompass
Barbary, where, even at this day, they live many times to
a hundred and fifty years, as hath been noted before.

6. And this kind of air of caves and mountains, of its
own proper nature, is little or nothing predatory; but air,
such as ours is, which is predatory through the heat of the
sun, ought as much as is possible to be excluded from the
body.

7, But the air is prohibited and excluded two ways:
first, by closing the pores: secondly, by filling them up.

8. To the closing of the pores, help coldness of the alr,
going naked, whereby the skin is made hard, washing in
cold water, astringents applied to the skin, such as are
mastick, myrrhe, myrtle.

9. But much more may we satisfy this operation by baths,

LIFE AND DEATH. 375

yet those rarely used (especially in summer), which are made
of astringent mineral waters, such as may safely be used,
as waters participating of steel and copperas, for these do
potently contract the skin.

10. As for filling up the pores, paintings, and such like
unctuous daubings, and (which may most commodiously be
used) oil and fat things, do no less conserve the substance
of the body, than oil colours and varnish do preserve wood.

11. The ancient Britons painted their bodies with woad,
and were exceeding long dived; the Picts also used paint-
ings, and are thought by some to have derived their name
from thence.

12. The Brazilians and Virginians paint themselves at
this day, who are (especially the former). very long lived ;
insomuch that five years ago, the French Jesuites had
speech with some who remembered the building of Fernam-
buck, which was done a hundred and twenty years since,
and they were then at man’s estate.

13. Joannes de Temporibus, who is reported to have ex-
tended his life to three hundred years, being asked how he
preserved himself so long, is said to have answered, By oil
without, and by honey within.

14. The Irish, especially the wild Irish, even at this day
live very long ; certainly they report, that within these few
years, the Countess of Desmond lived to a hundred and
forty years of age, and bred teeth three times. Now the
Irish have a fashion to chafe, and, as it were, to baste
themselves with old salt butter against the fire.

15. The same Irish used to wear saffroned linen and
shirts, which though it were at first devised to prevent
vermin, yet howsoever I take it to be very useful for lengthen-
ing of life; for. saffron, of all things that I know, is the best

| thing for the skin, and the comforting of the flesh, seeing it

is both notably astringent, and hath besides an oleosity and
subtile heat without any acrimony. I remember a certain
Englishman who when he went to sea carried a bag of
saffron next his stomach, that he might conceal it, and
So escape custom ; and whereas he was wont to be always
exceeding seasick, at that time he continued very well, and
felt no provocation to vomit.

16. Hippocrates adviseth in winter to wear clean linen,
and in summer foul linen, and besmeared with oil: the rea-
son may seem to be, because in summer the spirits exhale
most, therefore the pores of the skin would be filled up.

17, Hereupon we are of opinion that the use of oil, either

376 3 HISTORY OF

of olives or sweet almonds, to anomt the skin therewith,
would principally conduce to long life. The anointin
would be done every morning when we rise out of bed with
oil in which a little baysalt and saffron is mixed. But this
anointing must be lightly done with wool, or some soft
sponge, not laying it on thick, but gently touching and
wetting the skin.

18. It is certain that liquors, even the oily themselves,
in great quantities draw somewhat from the body; but
contrarily in small quantities are drunk in by the body;
therefore the anointing would be but light as we said, or
rather the shirt itself would be besmeared with oil.

19. It may happily be objected that this anointing with
oil which we commend (though it were never in use with
us, and amongst the Italians is cast off again) was anciently
very familiar amongst the Grecians and Romans, and a

part of their diet, and yet men were not longer lived in those —

days than now. But it may rightly be answered, oil was
in use only after baths, unless it were perhaps amongst
champions; now hot baths are as much contrary to our
operation as anointings are congruous, seeing the one opens
the passages, the other stops them up; therefore the bath
without the anointing following is utterly bad, the anointing
without the bath is best of all. Besides, the anointing
amongst them was used only for delicacy, or (if you take
it at the best) for health, but by no means in order to long
life; and therefore they used them with all precious oint-
ments, which were good for deliciousness, but hurtful to our
intention, in regard of their heat; so that Virgil seemeth
not to have said amiss,

Nec casia liquidi corrumpitur usus olivi.
That odoriferous cassia hath not supplanted the use of neat oil olive.

20. Anointing with oil conduceth to health, both in winter,
by the exclusion of the cold air, and in summer, by detaining
the spirits within, and prohibiting the resolution of them,
and keeping off the force of the air which is then most
predatory.

21. Seeing the anointing with oil is one of the most
potent operations to long life, we have thought good to add
some cautions, lest the health should be endangered ; they
are four, according to the four inconveniences which may
follow thereupon.

22. The first inconvenience is, that by repressing sweats
it may engender diseases from those excrementitious hu-
mours. To this a remedy must be given by purges and

LIFE AND DEATH. 377

clysters, that evacuation may be duly performed. This is
certain, that evacuation by sweats commonly advanceth
health, and derogateth from long life, but gentle purges
work upon the humours, not upon the spirits as sweat doth.

23. The second inconvenience is, that it may heat the
body, and in time inflame it; for the spirits shut in, and not
breathing forth, acquire heat. This inconvenience may be
prevented, if the diet most usually incline to the colder part,
and that at times some proper cooling medicines be taken,
of which we shall straight speak in the operation upon the
_ blood.

24. The third is, that it may annoy the head; for all
oppletion from without strikes back the vapours, and sends
them up unto the head. This inconvenience is remedied
by purgers, especially clysters, and by shutting the mouth
of the stomach strongly with stiptics, and by combing and
rubbing the head, and by washing it with convenient lees,
that something may exhale, and by not omitting competent
and good exercises, that something also may perspire by
the skin.

25. The fourth inconvenience is a more subtile evil;
namely, that the spirit being detained by the closing up of
the pores, is likely to multiply itself too much; for when
little issueth forth, and new spirit is continually engendered,
the spirit increaseth too fast, and so preyeth upon the body
more plentifully. But this is not altogether so; for all
spirit closed up is dull (for it is blown and excited with
motion as flame is), and therefore it is less active, and less
generative of itself; indeed it is thereby increased in heat
(as flame is), but slow in motion. And therefore the remedy
to this inconvenience must be by cold things, being some-
times mixed with oil, such as are roses and myrtles, for we
must altogether disclaim hot things, as we said of cassia.

26. Neither will it be unprofitable to wear next the body
garments that have in them some unctuosity, or oleosity,
not aquosity, for they will exhaust the body less; such as
are those of woollen, rather than those of linen. Certainly
it is manifest in the spirits of odours, that if you lay sweet
powders amongst linen they will much sooner lose their
smell than amongst woollen. And therefore linen is to be
preferred for delicacy and neatness, but to be suspected for
our operation.

27. The wild Irish as soon as they fall sick, the first
thing they do is to take the sheets off their beds, and to
wrap themselves in the woollen clothes.

28. Some report that they have found great benefit in

378 | _ HISTORY OF

the conservation of their health, by wearing scarlet waist-
coats next their skin, and under their shirts, as well down
to the nether parts as on the upper.

29. It is also to be observed, that air accustomed to the
body doth less prey upon it than new air and often changed ;
and therefore poor people, in small cottages, who live always
within the smell of the same chimney, and change not
their seats, are commonly longest lived: notwithstanding,
to other operations (especially for them whose spirits are
not altogether dull) we judge change of air to be very pro-

fitable, but a mean must be used which may satisfy on both

sides. This may be-done by removing our habitation four
times a year, at constant and set times, unto convenient
seats, that so the body may neither be in too much peregri-
nation, nor in too much station. And touching the opera-
tion upon the exclusion of air, and avoiding the predatory
force thereof, thus much.

u1. The Operation upon the Blood, and the Sanguifying
Heat.

The History.

1. The following operations answer to the two precedent,
and are in the relation of passives and actives; for the two
precedent intend this, that the spirits and air in their
actions may be the less depredatory; and the two latter,
that the blood and juice of the body may be the less depre-
dable. But because the blood is an irrigation or watering
of the juices and members, and a preparation to them,
_ therefore we will put the operation upon the blood, in the
first place: concerning this operation we will propound
certain counsels, few in number, but very powerful in virtue:
they are three.

2. First, there is no doubt, but that if the blood be brought |

to a cold temper, it will be so much the less dissipable.

But because the cold things which are taken by the mouth i
agree but ill with many other intentions, therefore it will |
be best to find out some such things as may be free from |

these inconveniences. They are two.
3. The first is this: let there be brought into use, espe-

pecially in youth, clysters not purging at all, or absterging,

but only cooling, and somewhat opening: those are approved —

which are made of the juices of lettuce, purslane, liverwort, _
houseleek, and the mucilage of the seed of fleawort, with —

some temperate opening decoction, and a little camphire ; d

but in the declining age let the houseleek and purslane be —

LIFE AND DEATH. 379

left out, and the juices of borage and endive, and the like,
be put in their rooms. And let these clysters be retained,
if it may be for an hour or more.

4. The other is this, let there be in use, especially in
summer, baths of fresh water, and but luke warm, altoge-
ther without emollients, as mallows, mercury, milk, and
the like, rather take new whey in some good quantity, and
roses. :

5. But (that which is the principal in this intention and
new) we advise that before the bathing, the body be
anointed with oil, with some thickness, whereby the qua-
lity of the cooling may be received, and the water excluded:
yet let not the pores of the body be shut too close, for
when the outward cold closeth up the body too strongly, it
is so far from furthering coolness, that it rather forbids,
and stirs up heat.

6. Like unto this is the use of bladders, with some de-
coctions and cooling juices, applied to the inferior region
of the body, namely, from the ribs to the privy parts: for
this also is a kind of bathing, where the body of the
liquor is for the most part excluded, and the cooling qua-
lity admitted.

7. The third counsel remaineth, which belongeth not to
the quality of the blood, but to the substance thereof, that
it may be made more firm and less dissipable, and such as
the heat of the spirit may have the less power over it.

8. And as for the use of filings of gold, leaf-gold, pow-
der of pearl, precious stones, coral, and the like, we have no
opinion of them at this day, unless it be only as they may
satisfy this present operation. Certainly, seeing the Ara-
bians, Grecians, and modern physicians, have attributed
such virtues to these things, it cannot be altogether no-
thing, which so great men have observed of them. And
therefore omitting all fantastical opinions about them, we
do verily believe, that if there could be some such things
conveyed into the whole mass of the blood in minute and
fine portions, over which the spirits and heat should have
little or no power, absolutely it would not only resist putre-
faction, but arefaction also, and be a most effectual means
to the prolongation of life. Nevertheless in this thing
several cautions are to be given; first, that there be a most
exact comminution: secondly, that such hard and solid
things be void of all malignant qualities, lest while they
be dispersed and lurk in the veins, they breed some illcon-

» venience: thirdly, that they be never taken together with

380 HISTORY OF

meats, nor in any such manner as they may stick long, lest
they beget dangerous obstructions about the mesentery: —
lastly, that they be taken very rarely, that they may not
coagulate and knot together in the veins.

9. Therefore let the manner of taking them be fasting, in
white wine, a little oil of almonds mingled therewith, exer-
cise used immediately upon the taking of them.

10. The simples which may satisfy this operation are,
instead of all, gold, pearls, and coral; for all metals, ex- |
cept gold, are not without some malignant quality in the
dissolutions of them, neither will they be beaten to that
exquisite fineness that leaf gold hath. As for all glassy
and transparent jewels, we like them not (as we said be- —
fore), for fear of corrosion.

11. But, in our judgment, the safer and more effectual
way would be by the use of woods in infusions and decoc-
tions ; for there is in them sufficient to cause firmness of
blood, and not the like danger for breeding obstructions ;
but especially, because they may be taken in meat and
drink, whereby they will find the more easy entrance into
the veins, and not be avoided in excrements.

12. The woods fit for this purpose are sanders, the oak,

and vine. As for all hot woods or something rosiny, we
reject them; notwithstanding you may add the woody
stalks of rosemary dried, for rosemary is a shrub, and ex-
ceedeth in age many trees, also the woody stalks of ivy,
but in such quantity as they may not yield an unpleasing ©
taste.

13. Let the woods be taken either boiled in broths, or
infused in must or ale before they leave working; but in
broths (as the custom is for guaiacum and the like) they
would be infused a good while before the boiling, that the
firmer part of the wood, and not that only which lieth
loosely, may be drawn forth. As for ash, though it be
used for cups, yet we like it not. And touching the ope-
ration upon the blood, thus much.

iv. The Operation upon the Juices of the Body.
The History.

1. There are two kinds of bodies (as was said before in
the Inquisition touching inanimates) which are hardly con-
sumed, hard things and fat things, as is seen in metals and
stones, and in oil and wax.

2. It must be ordered, therefore, that the juice of the

-body be somewhat hard, and that it be fat or subroscid.

LIFE AND DEATH. 381

3. As for hardness, it is caused three ways: by aliment
of a firm nature, by cold condensing the skin and flesh,
_ and by exercise, binding and compacting the juices of the
body, that they be not soft and frothy.

4. As for the nature of the aliment, it ought to be such
as is not easily dissipable, such as are beef, swine’s flesh,
deer, goat, kid, swan, goose, ringdove, especially if they
be a little powdered; fish likewise salted and dried, old
cheese and the like.

5. As for the bread, oaten bread or bread with some
mixture of pease in it, or rye bread, or barley bread, are
more solid than wheat bread, and in wheat bread, the
coarse wheat bread is more solid than the pure manchet.

6. The inhabitants of the Orcades, which live upon
salted fish, and generally all fish eaters, are long lived.

7. The monks and hermits which fed sparingly, and
upon dry aliment, attained commonly to a great age.

8. Also pure water usually drunk, makes the juices of
the body less frothy ; unto which if, for the dulness of the
spirits (which no doubt in water are but a little penetrative),
you shall add a little nitre, we conceive it would be very
eo And touching the firmness of the aliment, thus
much.

9. As for the condensation of the skin and flesh by cold:
they are longer lived for the most part that live abroad in
the open air, than they that live in houses ; and the inha-
hea of the cold countries, than the inhabitants of the

ot.

10. Great store of clothes, either upon the bed or back,
do resolve the body. |

11. Washing the body in cold water is good for length
of life; use of hot baths is nought, touching baths of
astringent mineral waters, we have spoken before.

12. As for exercise, an idle life doth manifestly make
the flesh soft and dissipable: robust exercise (so it be
without overmuch sweating or weariness) maketh it hard
and compact. Also exercise within cold water, as swim-
ming, is very good; and generally exercise abroad is
better than that within houses.

13. Touching frications(which are a kind of exercise),
because they do rather call forth the aliment that harden
the flesh, we will inquire hereafter in the due place.

14, Having now spoken of hardening the juices of the
body, we are to come next to the oleosity and fatness of
them, which is a more perfect and potent intention than
induration, because it hath no inconvenience or evil

382 HISTORY OF

annexed. For all those things which pertain to the hard-
ening of the juices are of that nature, that while they pro-

hibit the absumption of the aliment, they also hinder the

operation of the same; whereby it happens, that the same

things are both propitious and adverse to length of life ;_

but those things which pertain to making the juices oily
and roscid, help on both sides, for they render the aliment
both less dissipable, and more reparable.

15. But whereas we say that the juice of the body
ought to be roscid and fat, it is to be noted that we mean it
not of a visible fat, but of a dewiness dispersed, or (if you
will call it) radical in the very substance of the body.

16. Neither again let any man think, that oil, or the fat

of meats or marrow, do engender the like, and satisfy our

intention: for those things which are once perfect are not

brought back again; but the aliments ought to be such,
which after digestion and maturation, do then in the end
engender oleosity in the juices.

eg

17. Neither again let any man think, that oil or fat by -

itself and simple is hard of dissipation; but in mixture it
doth not retain the same nature: for as oil by itself is
much more longer in consuming than water, so in paper or
linen it sticketh longer, and is later dried, as we noted
before.

18. To the irroration of the body, roasted meats or baked
meats are more effectual than boiled meats, and all prepa-
ration of meat with water is inconvenient; besides oil is
more plentifully extracted out of dried bodies than out of
moist bodies.

19. Generally, to the irroration of the body much use of
sweet things is profitable, as of sugar, honey, sweet almonds,
pineapples, pistachios, dates, raisins of the sun, corans, figs,
and the like. Contrarily, all sour, and very salt, and very
biting things are opposite to the generation of roscid juice.

20. Neither would we be thought to favour the Maeni-

chees, or their diet, though we commend the frequent use

of all kinds of seeds, kernels, and roots in meats or sauces,
considering all bread (and bread is that which maketh the
meat firm) is made either of seeds or roots.

21. But there is nothing makes so much to the irroration
of the body as the quality of the drink, which is the con-
voy of the meat; therefore let there be in use such drinks
as without all acrimony or sourness are notwithstanding
subtile; such are those wines which are (as the old woman
said in Plautus) vetustate edentula, toothless with age, and
ale of the same kind.

‘LIFE AND DEATH. 383

22. Mead (as we suppose) would not be ill if it were
strong and old} but because all honey hath in it some
sharp parts (as appears by that sharp water which the
chymists extract out of it, which will dissolve metals), it
were better to take the same portion of sugar, not lightly

_ Infused in it, but so incorporated as honey useth to be in

mead, and to keep it to the age of a year, or at least six
months, whereby the water may lose the crudity, and the
sugar acquire subtilty.

23. Now ancientness in wine or beer hath this in it, that it
ingenders subtilty in the parts of the liquor, and acrimony
in the spirits, whereof the first is profitable, and the second
hurtful. Now to rectify this evil commixture, let there be

_ put into the vessel, before the wine be separated from the

must, swine’s flesh or deer’s flesh well boiled, that the
spirits of the wine may have whereupon to ruminate and

feed, and so lay aside their mordacity.

24. In like manner, if ale should be made not only with
the grains of wheat, barley, oats, pease, and the like, but

also should admit a part (suppose a third part to these

rains) of some fat roots, such as are potado roots, pith of
artichokes, burre roots, or some other sweet and esculent
roots ; we suppose it would be a more useful drink for long
life than ale made of grains only.

Also such things as have very thin parts, yet notwith-
standing are without all acrimony or mordacity, are very
good salads; which virtue we find to be in some few of
the flowers, namely, flowers of ivy, which infused in vinegar
are pleasant even to the taste, marigold leaves, which are
used in broths, and flowers of betony. And touching the
operation upon the juices of the body, thus much.

v. The Operation upon the Bowels of their Extrusion
of Aliment.
The History.

1, What those things are which comfort the principal
bowels, which are the fountains of concoctions, namely, the
stomach, liver, heart, and brain to perform their functions
well (whereby aliment is distributed into the parts, spirits
are dispersed, and the reparation of the whole body is ac-
complished), may be derived from physicians and from their
prescripts and advices.

2. Touching the spleen, gall, kidneys, mesenteries, guts,
and lungs, we speak not, for these are members ministering
to the principal, and whereas speech is made touching
health, they require sometimes a most special considera-

384 HISTORY OF

tion, because each of these have their diseases, which unless
they be cured, will have influence upon the principal mem-
bers. But as touching the prolongation of life, and repa-
ration by aliments, and retardation of the incoction of old
age; if the concoctions and those principal bowels be well
disposed, the rest will commonly follow according to one’s
wish.

3. And as for those things which according to the different
state of every man’s body, may be transferred into his diet,
and the regiment of his life, he may collect them out of the
books of physicians, which have written of the comforting
and preserving the four principal members ; for conserva-
tion of health hath commonly need of no more than some
short courses of physic, but length of life cannot be hoped _
without an orderly diet, and a constant race of sovereign
medicines. But we will propound some few, and those the
most select and prime directions. 4

4. The stomach (which, as they say, is the master of the |
house, and whose strength and goodness is fundamental
to the other concoctions) ought so to be guarded and con-
firmed that it may be without intemperateness hot; next _
astricted or bound, not loose ; furthermore clean, not sur-
charged with foul humours, and yet (in regard itis nourished
from itself, not from the veins) not altogether empty or |
hungry; lastly, it is to be kept ever in appetite, because
appetite sharpens digestion.

5. I wonder much how that same calidum bibere, to
drink warm drink (which was in use amongst the ancients),
is laid down again. I knew a physician that was very
famous, who in the beginning of dinner and supper would
usually eat a few spoonfuls of very warm broth with much _
greediness, and then would presently wish that it were out _
again, saying, He had no need of the broth, but only of
the warmth.

6. I do verily conceive it good that the first draught
either of wine, or ale, or any other drink (to which a man
is most accustomed), be taken at supper warm. |

7. Wine in which gold hath been quenched, I conceive, _
would be very good once in a meal; not that I believe the
gold conferreth any virtue thereunto, but that I know that
the quenching of all metals in any kind of liquor doth
leave a most potent astriction. Now I choose gold, because
besides that astriction which I desire, it leaveth nothing —
else behind it of a metalline impression.

8. Iam of opinion that the sops of bread dipped in wine,

LIFE AND DEATH. 385

taken at the midst of the meal, are better than wine itself,
especially if there were infused into the wine in which the
sops were dipped rosemary and citron pill, and that with
sugar, that it may not slip too fast.

9. It is certain that the use of quinces is good to strengthen
the stomach, but we take them to be better if they be used
in that which they call quiddeny of quinces, than in the
_ bodies of the quinces themselves, because they lie heavy in
the stomach. But those quiddenies are best taken, after
meals, alone ; before meals, dipped in vinegar.

10. Such things as are good for the stomach above other
simples are these, rosemary, elecampane, mastick, worm-
wood, sage, mint. :

11. Tallow pills of aloes, mastick, and saffron, winter time,
taken before dinner, but so as the aloes be not only often-
times washed in rosewater, but also in vinegar in which
tragacanth hath been infused, and after that be macerated
for a few hours in oil of sweet almonds new drawn, before
it be made into pills.

12. Wine or ale wherein wormwood hath been infused,
with a little elecampane and yellow sanders, will do well,
taken at times, and that especially in winter.

13. But in summer, a draught of white wine allayed with
strawberry water, in which wine, powder of pearls, and of
the shells of crawfishes exquisitely beaten, and (which may
perhaps seem strange) a little chalk have been infused, doth
excellently refresh and strengthen the stomach.

14, But generally, all draughts in the morning (which
are but too frequently used) of cooling things, as of juices,
decoctions, whey, barley waters, and the like, are to be
avoided, and nothing is to be put into the stomach fasting
which is purely cold. These things are better given, if
need require, either at five in the afternoon, or else an hour
after a light breakfast.

15. Often fastings are bad for long life; besides, all
thirst is to be avoided, and the stomach is to be kept clean,
but always moist.

16. Oil of olives new and good, in which a little mithri-
date hath been dissolved, anointed upon the backbone, just
against the mouth of the stomach, doth wonderfully comfort
the stomach.

17. A small bag filled with locks of scarlet wool steeped
in red wine, in which myrtle, and citron pill, and a little
saffron have been infused, may be always worn upon the
stomach. And touching those things which comfort the

VOL, XIV. Ca

386 HISTORY OF

stomach, thus much, seeing many of those things also which
serve for other operations are helpful to this.

18. The liver, if it be preserved from torrefaction or de-
siccation, and from obstruction, it needeth no more; for
that looseness of it which begets aquosities is plainly a dis-
ease, but the other two, old age approaching induceth.

19. Hereunto appertain most especially those things
which are set down in the operation upon the blood; we
will add a very few things more, but those selected.

20. Principally let there be in use the wine of sweet
pomegranates ; or, if that cannot be had, the juice of them
newly expressed; let it be taken in the morning with a
little sugar, and into the glass into which the expression is
made put a small piece of citron pill green, and three or
four whole cloves; let this be taken from February till the
end of April. |

21. Bring also into use, above all other herbs, water-
cresses, but young, not old; they may be used either raw
in sallets, or in broths, or in drinks; and after that take
spoonwort.

22. Aloes, however washed or corrected, is hurtful for
the liver, and therefore it is never to be taken ordinarily.
Contrariwise, rhubarb is sovereign for the liver, so that these —
three cautions be interposed. First, that it be taken before
meat, lest it dry the body too much, or leave some impres-
sions of the stipicity thereof. Secondly, that it be mace-
rated an hour or two in oil of sweet almonds new drawn, with
rosewater, before it be infused in liquor, or given in the
proper substance. Thirdly, that it be taken by turns, one
while simple, another while with tartar, or a little baysalt,
that it carry not away the lighter parts only, and make the
mass of the humours more obstinate.

23. I allow wine, or some decoction with steel, to be
taken three or four times in the year, to open the more
strong obstructions; yet so, that a draught of two or three
spoonfuls of oil of sweet almonds new drawn ever go before,
and the motion of the body, especially of the arms and sides,
constantly follow.

24. Sweetened liquors, and that with some fatness, are
principally, and not a little effectual to prevent the arefac-
tion, and saltness, and torrefaction;-and, in a word, the
oldness of the liver, especially if they be well incorporated
with age. They are made of sweet fruits and roots; as,
namely, the wines and julips of raisins of the sun new;
jujubes, dried figs, dates, parsnips, potatoes, and the like,

LIFE AND DEATH. 387

with the mixture of liquorish sometimes. Also a julip of
the Indian grain (which they call maize), with the mixture
of some sweet things, doth much to the same end. But it
is to be noted, that the intention of preserving the liver in
a kind of softness and fatness, is much more powerful than
that other which pertains to the opening of the liver, which
rather tendeth to health, than to length of life, saving that
obstruction which induceth torrefaction, is as opposite to
long life, as those other arefactions.

25. I commend the roots of succory, spinage, and beets
cleared of their piths, and boiled till they be tender in
water, with a third part of white wine, for ordinary sallets,
to be eaten with oil and vinegar. Also asparagus, pith of
artichokes, and burroots boiled and served in after the same
manner. Also broths in the springtime of vinebuds, and the
green blades of wheat. And touching the preserving of the
liver, thus much.

26. The heart receiveth benefit or harm most from the
air which we breathe, from vapours, and from the affec-
tions. Now many of those things which have been formerly
spoken, touching the spirits, may be transferred hither ;
but that indigested mass of cordials collected by physicians
avails little to our tention ; notwithstanding, those things
which are found to be good against poisons, may, with
good judgment, be given to strengthen and fortify the heart,
especially if they be of that kind, that they do not so much
resist the particular poisons, as arm the heart and spirits
against poison in general. And touching these several cor-
dials, you may repair to the table already set down.

27. The goodness of the air is better known by ex-
perience than by signs. We hold that air to be best
where the country is level and plain, and that lieth open
on all sides, so that the soil be dry, and yet not barren or
sandy; which puts forth wild thyme, and eyebright, and a
kind of marjoram, and here and there stalks of calamint;
which is not altogether void of wood, but conveniently set
with some trees for shade, where the sweetbriar-rose smell-
eth something musky and aromatically. If there be rivers,
we suppose them rather hurtful than good, unless they be
very small, and clear, and gravelly.

28. It is certain, that the morning air is more lively and
refreshing than the evening air, though the latter be pre-
ferred out of delicacy.

29. We conceive also, that the air stirred with a gentle
wind, is more wholesome than the air of a serene and calm

388 HISTORY OF

sky; but the best is, the wind blowing from the west in the
morning, and from the north in the afternoon.

30. Odours are especially profitable for the comforting
of the heart, yet not so, as though a good odour were the

prerogative of a good air; for it is certain, that as there are —

some pestilential airs which smell not so ill as others that
are less hurtful; so, on the contrary, there are some airs
most wholesome and friendly to the spirits, which either
smell not at all, or are less pleasing and fragrant to the sense.
And generally, where the air is good, odours should be

taken but now and then; for a continual odour, though ~

never so good, is burthensome to the spirits.

31. We commend, above all others (as we have touched
before), odour of plants growing, and not plucked, taken in
the open air; the principal of that kind are, violets, gilli-
flowers, pinks, bean flowers, lime tree blossoms, vinebuds,
honeysuckles, yellow wallflowers, musk-roses (for other
roses growing are fast of their smells), strawberry leaves,
especially dying, sweetbriar, principally in the early spring,
wild mint, lavender flowered ; and in the hotter countries,
orange tree, citron tree, myrtle, laurel. Therefore to walk
or sit near the breath of these plants, would not be neglected.

32. For the comforting of the heart, we prefer cool smells
before hot smells; therefore the best perfume is, either in
the morning, or about the heat of the day, to take an equal
portion of vinegar, rosewater, and claret wine, and to pour
them upon a firepan somewhat heated.

33. Neither let us be thought to sacrifice to our mother
the earth, though we advise, that in digging or ploughing
the earth for health, a quantity of claret wine be poured
thereon.

34. Orange flower water, pure and good, with a small
portion of rosewater, and brisk wine, snuffed up into the
nostrils, or put into the nostrils with a syringe, after the
manner of an errhine (but not too frequently), 1s very good.

35. But champing (though we have no betel) or holding
in the mouth only of such things as cheer the spirits (even
daily done), is exceeding comfortable. Therefore for that
purpose make grains, or little cakes of ambergris, musk,
lignum aloes, lignum rhodium, orras powder, and roses ; and
let those grains or cakes be made up with rosewater which
hath passed through a little Indian balsam.

36. The vapours which, arising from things inwardly
taken, do fortify and cherish the heart, ought to have these
three properties, that they be friendly, clear, and cooling;

LIFE AND DEATH. 389

for hot vapours are nought, and wine itself, which is thought
to have only a heating vapour, is not altogether void of an
opiate quality. Now we call those vapours clear, which
have more of the vapour than of the exhalation, and which
are not smoky, or fuliginous, or unctuous, but moist and
equal.

437. Out of that unprofitable rabble of cordials a few
ought to be taken into daily diet ; instead of all, ambergris,
saffron, and the grain of Kermes, of the hotter sort. Roots
of bugloss and borage, citrons, sweet lemons, and pear-
mains, of the colder sort. Also that way which we said,
both gold and pearls work a good effect, not only within
the veins, but in their passage, and about the parts near
the heart; namely, by cooling, without any malignant
quality. 7

38. Of bezoar-stone we believe well, because of many
trials ; but then the manner of taking it ought to be such,
as the virtue thereof may more easily be communicated to
the spirits. Therefore we approve not the taking of it in
broths or syrups, or in rosewater, or any such like; but
only in wine, cinnamon-water, or the like distilled water,

‘but that weak or small, not burning or strong.

39. Of the affections we have spoken before, we only
add this, that every noble, and resolute, and (as they call
it) heroical desire, strengtheneth and enlargeth the powers
of the heart. And touching the heart, thus much.

40. As for the brain, where the seat and court of the
animal spirits is kept, those things which were inquired
before touching opium, and nitre, and the subordinates to
them both; also touching the procuring of placid sleep,
may likewise be referred hither. This also is most certain,
that the brain is in some sort in the custody of the stomach ;
and, therefore, those things which comfort and strengthen
the stomach, do help the brain by consent, and may no less be
transferred hither. We will add a few observations, three
outward, one inward.

41. We would have bathing of the feet to be often used, at
least once in a week; and the bath to be made of lye with
bay-salt, and a little sage, camomile, fennel, sweet marjoram,
and pers with the leaves of angelica green.

42. We commend also a fume or suffumigation every

_ morning of dried rosemary, bay leaves dried, and lignum

aloes ; for all sweet gums oppress the head.
43. Especially care must be taken that no hot things be
applied to the head outwardly; such are all kind of spices,

390 HISTORY OF

the very —— not excepted ; for those hot things, we
debase them to the soles of the feet, and would have them
applied there only; but a light anointing of the head with
oil, mixed with roses, myrtle, and a little salt and saffron,
we much commend.

44. Not forgetting those things which we have before
delivered touching opiates, nitre, and the like, which so

much condense the spirits; we think it not impertinent to

that effect, that once in fourteen days broth be taken in
the morning with three or four grains of castoreum, and a
little angelica seed, and calamus, which both fortify the
brain, and in that aforesaid density of the substance of the
spirits (so necessary to long life), add also a viyacity of mo-
tion and vigour to them.

45. In handling the comforters of the four principal
bowels we have propounded those things which are both
proper and choice, and may safely and conveniently be
transferred into diets and regiment of life; for variety of
medicines is the daughter of ignorance; and it is not more
true, that many dishes have caused many diseases, as the
proverb is, than this is true, that many medicines have
caused few cures. And touching the operation upon the
principal bowels for their extrusion of aliment, thus much.

vi. The Operation upon the Outward Parts for their
Attraction of Aliment.

The History.

1. Although a good concoction performed by the inward
parts be the principal towards a perfect alimentation, yet
the actions of the outward parts ought also to concur; that
like as the inward faculty sendeth forth and extrudeth the
aliment, so the faculty of the outward parts may call forth,
_ and attract the same; and the more weak the faculty of
concoction shall be, the more need is there of a concurring
help of the attractive faculty.

2. A strong attraction of the outward parts is chiefly
caused by the motion of the body, by which the parts being»
heated and comforted, do more cheerfully call forth and
attract the aliment unto themselves.

3. But this is most of all to be foreseen and avoided, that
the same motion and heat which calls the new juice to the
members, doth not again despoil the member of that juice
wherewith it had been before refreshed.

4. Frications used in the morning serve especially to this

LIFE AND DEATH. -39]1

intention; but this must evermore accompany them, that
after the frication, the part being lightly anointed with oil,
lest the attrition of the outward parts make them by per-
spiration dry and juiceless.

5. The next is exercise (by which the parts confricate
and chafe.themselves), so it be moderate, and which (as was
noted before) is not swift, nor to the utmost strength, nor
unto weariness. But in exercise and frication there is the
same reason and caution, that the body may not perspire,
or exhale too much. Therefore exercise is better in the
open air than in the house, and better in winter than in
summer. And, again, exercise is not only to be concluded
with unction, as frication is, but in vehement exercises unc-
tion is to be used both in the beginning and in the end, as
it was anciently to champions.

6. That exercise may resolve either the spirits or the
juices as little as may be, it is necessary that it be used
when the stomach is not altogether empty ; and, therefore,
that it may not be used upon a full stomach (which doth
much concern health), nor yet upon an empty stomach
(which doth no less concern long life), it is best to take a
breakfast in the morning, not of any physical drugs, or of
any liquors, or of raisins, or of figs, or the like, but of plain
meat and drink; yet that very light, and in moderate
quantity. :

7. Exercises used for the irrigation of the members,
ought to be equal to all the members; not (as Socrates said)
that the legs should move, and the arms should rest, or on
the contrary; but that all the parts may participate of the
motion. And it is altogether requisite to long life, that the
werd should never abide long in one posture, cu that every
ro hour, at least, it change the posture, saving only in
sleep.

g Those things which are used to mortification, may
be transferred to vivification; for both hair-shirts, and
scourgings, and all vexations of the outward parts, do fortify
the attractive force of them.

9. Cardan commends nettling, even to let out melan-
choly ; but of this we have no experience. And, besides,
we have no good opinion of it, lest, through the venemous
quality of the nettle, it may with often use breed itches,
and other diseases of the skin. And touching the opera-
tion upon the outward parts for their attraction of aliment,
thus much.

392 HISTORY -OF

vit. Lhe Operation upon the Aliment itself, for the
Insinuation thereof.

The History.

1. The vulgar reproof touching many dishes, doth rather
become a severe reformer, than a physician; or, howsoever,
it may be good for preservation of health, yet it is hurtful
to length of life, by reason that a various mixture of ali-
ments, and somewhat heterogeneous, finds a passage into
the veins and juices of the body more lively and cheerfully,
than a simple and homogeneous diet doth; besides, it is
more forcible to stir up appetite, which is the spur of di-
gestion. Therefore we allow both a full table, and a con-
tinual changing of dishes, according to the seasons of the
year, or upon other occasions.

2. Also that opinion of the simplicity of meats without
sauces, is but a simplicity of judgment; for good and well
chosen sauces are the most wholesome preparation of meats,
and conduce both to health and to long life.

3. It must be ordered, that with meats hard of digestion
be conjoined strong liquors, and sauces that may penetrate —
and make way; but with meats more easy of digestion,
smaller liquors, and fat sauces.

4. Whereas we advised before, that the first draught at
supper should be taken warm; now we add, that for the
preparation of the stomach, a good draught of that liquor
(to which every’man is most accustomed) be taken warm
half an hour before meat also, but a little spiced, to please
the taste.

5. The preparation of meats, and bread, and drinks, that
they may be rightly handled, and in order to this inten-
tion, is of exceeding great moment, howsoever it may seem
a mechanical thing, and savouring of the kitchen and but-
tery; yet it is of more consequence than those fables of
gold, and precious stones, and the like.

6. The moistening of the juices of the body by a moist
preparation of the aliment, is a childish thing, it may be
somewhat available against the fervours of diseases, but it
is altogether averse to roscid alimentation. Therefore boiling
of meats, as concerning our intention, is far inferior to
roasting, and baking, and the like.

7) Roasting ought to be with a quick fire, and soon des-
patched, not with a dull fire and in long time.

8. All solid fleshes ought to be served in not altogether
fresh but somewhat powdered or corned ; the less salt may

LIFE AND DEATH. 393

be spent at the table with them, or none at all; for salt
incorporated with the meat before, is better distributed in
the body than eaten with it at the table.

9. There would be brought into use several and good
macerations and infusions of meats in convenient liquors,
before the roasting of them, the like whereof are sometime
in use before they bake them, and in the pickles of some
fishes.

10. But beatings, and as it were scourgings, of flesh meats
before they be boiled, would work no small matter. We see
it is confessed, that partridges and pheasants killed with a
hawk, also bucks and stags killed in hunting, if they stand
not out too long, eat better even to the taste, and some
fishes scourged and beaten become more tender and whole-
some; also hard and sour pears, and some other fruits,
grow sweet with rolling them. It were good to practise
some such beating and bruising of the harder kinds of
fleshes before they be brought to the fire, and this would
be one of the best preparations of all.

11. Bread a little leavened and very little salted is best,
and which is baked in an oven thoroughly heated, and not
with a faint heat.

12. The preparation of drinks, in order to long life, shall
not exceed one precept; and as touching water drinkers,
we have nothing to say, such a diet (as we said before)
may prolong life to an indifferent term, but to no eminent
length ; but in other drinks that are full of spirit (such as
are wine, ale, mead, and the like), this one thing is to be
observed and pursued as the sum of all, That the parts of
the liquor may be exceeding thin and subtile, and the spirit
exceeding mild. This is hard to be done by age alone, for
that makes the parts a little more subtile, but the spirits
much more sharp and eager; therefore of the infusions in
the vessels of some fat substance, which may restrain the
acrimony of the spirits, counsel hath been given before.
There is also another way without infusion or mixture ; this
is, that the liquor might be continually agitated, either by
carriage upon the water, or by carriage by land, or by
hanging the vessels upon lines, and daily stirring them, or
some such other way ; for it is certain, that this local mo-
tion doth both subtilize the parts, and doth so incorporate
and compact the spirits with the parts, that they have no
leisure to turn to sourness, which is a kind of putrefaction.

But in extreme old age such a preparation of meats is to
be made, as may be almost in the middle way to chylous.

394 : HISTORY OF

And touching the distillations of meats, they are mere toys,
for the nutritive part, at least the best of it, doth not ascend
in vapours. i

14. The incorporating of meat and drink before they
meet in the stomach, is a degree to chylous; therefore let
chickens, or partridges, or pheasants, or the like, be taken
and boiled in water, with a little salt, then let them be
cleansed and dried, afterward let them be infused in must
or ale before it hath done working, with a little sugar.

15. Also grazies of meat, and the mincings of them small
well seasoned, are good for old persons ; and the rather, for
that they are destituted of the office of their teeth in chew-
ing, which is a principal kind of preparation.

16. And as for the helps of that defect (namely, of the
strength of teeth to grind the meat), there are three things
which may conduce thereunto. First, that new teeth may
put forth ; that which seems altogether difficult, and cannot
be accomplished without an inward and powerful restaura-
tion of the body. Secondly, that the jaws be so confirmed
by due astringents, that they may in some sort supply the
office of the teeth ; which may possibly be effected. Thirdly,
that the meat be so prepared, that there shall be no need of
chewing, which remedy is at hand. |

17. We have some thought also touching the quantity
of the meat and drink, that the same taken in a larger
quantity at some times, is good for the irrigation of the
body; therefore both great feastings, and free drinkings,
are not altogether to be inhibited. And touching the ope-
Reich upon the aliments, and the preparation of them, thus
much.

vit. The Operation upon the last Act of Assimilation.

Touching the last act of assimilation (unto which the
three operations immediately preceding chiefly tend), our
advice shall be brief and single, and the thing itself rather
needs explication than any various rules. : |

1. It is certain, that all bodies are endued with some —
desire of assimilating those things which are next them.
This the rare and pneumatical bodies, as flame, spirit, air,
perform generously and with alacrity; on the contrary,
those that carry a gross and tangible bulk about them do
but weakly, in regard that the desire of assimilating other
things is bound in by a stronger desire of rest, and con-
taining themselves from motion. :

2. Again, it is certain that the desire of assimilati
being bound, as we said, in a gross body, and. made inef-

LIFE AND DEATH. 395

fectual, is somewhat freed and stirred up by the heat and
neighbouring spirit, so that it is then actuated; which is
the only cause why inanimates assimilate not, and animates
assimilate.

3. This also is certain, that the harder the consistence
of the body is, the more doth that body stand in need of a
greater heat to prick forward the assimilation ; which falls
out ill for old men, because in them the parts are more
obstinate, and the heat weaker, and therefore either the
obstinacy of their parts is to be softened or their heat in-
creased. And as touching the malacissation or mollifying
of the members we shall speak afterward, having also for-
merly propounded many things which pertain to the prohi-
biting and preventing of this kind of hardness. For the
other, touching the increasing of the heat, we will now
deliver a single precept, after we have first assumed this
axiom.

4. The act of assimilation (which, as we said, is ex-
cited by the heat circumfused) is a motion exceeding
accurate, subtile, and in little; now all such motions do
then come to their vigour, when the local motion wholly
ceaseth which disturbeth it. For the motion of separation
into homogeneal parts, which is in milk, that the cream
should swim above, and the whey sink to the bottom, will
never work, if the milk be never so little agitated ; neither
will any putrefaction proceed in water or: mixed bodies, if
the same be in continual local motion. So then, from this
assumption we will conclude this for the present inquisition.

5. The act itself of assimilation is chiefly accomplished
in sleep and rest, especially towards the morning, the dis-
tribution being finished. Therefore we have nothing else
to advise, but that men keep themselves hot in their sleep ;
and further, that towards the morning there be used some
anointing, or shirt tincted with oil, such as may gently stir
up heat, and after that to fall asleep again. And touching
the last act of assimilation, thus much.

ix. T'he Operation upon the Inteneration of that which begins
to be arefied, or the Malacissation of the Body.

We have inquired formerly touching the inteneration
from within, which is done by many winding and circuits,
as well of alimentation as of detaining the spirit from issuing
forth, and therefore is accomplished slowly. Now we are
to inquire touching that inteneration which is from without,
and is affected, as it were, suddenly ; or touching the mala-
cissation and supplying of the body.

396 HISTORY OF

The History.

1. In the fable of restoring Pelias to youth again, Media, |

when she feigned to do it, propounded this way of accom-
plishing the same ; that the old man’s body should be cut
into several pieces, and then boiled in a cauldron with
certain medicaments. There may, perhaps, some boiling

be required to this matter, but the cutting into pieces is _

not needful.

2. Notwithstanding, this cutting into pieces seems, in

some sort to be used, not with a knife, but with judgment.
For whereas the consistence of the bowels and parts 1s ver
diverse, it is needful that the inteneration of them bot
be not effected the same way, but that there be a cure de-
signed of each in particular, besides those things which per-

tain to the inteneration of the whole mass of the body ; of |

which, notwithstanding, in the first place.

3. This operation (if perhaps it be within our power) is
most likely to be done by baths, unctions, and the like, con-
cerning which, these things that follow are to be observed.

4. We must not be too forward in hoping to accomplish

this matter, from the examples of those things which we
see done in the imbibitions and macerations of inanimates,
by which they are intenerated, whereof we introduced some
instances befbas for this kind of operation is more easy
upon inanimates, because they attract and suck in the
liquor; but upon the bodies of living creatures it is harder,
because in them the motion rather tendeth outward, and to
the circumference. .

5. Therefore the emollient baths which are in use do
little good, but on the contrary hurt, because they rather
draw forth than make entrance, and resolve the structure
of the body, rather than consolidate it.

6. The baths and unctions which may serve to the pre-

sent operation (namely, of intenerating the body truly and

really) ought to have three properties.

7. The first and principal is, that they consist of those
things, which in their whole substance are like unto the
body and flesh of man, and which have a feeding and nurs-
ing virtue from without.

8. The second is, that they be mixed with such things,
as through the subtilty of their parts may make entrance,

and so insinuate and convey their nourishing virtue into

the body.
9. The third is, that they receive some mixture (though
much inferior to the rest) of such things as are astringent ;

3
i

LIFE AND DEATH. 397

I mean not sour or tart things, but unctuous and comfort-
ing, that while the other two do operate, the exhaling out
of the body, which destroyeth the virtue of the things inte-

’ nerating, may (as much as possible) be prohibited ; and the

motion to the inward parts, by the astriction of the skin,
and closing of the passages, may be promoted and fur-
thered.

10. That which is most consubstantial to the body of
man is warm blood, either of man, or of some other living
creature. But the device of Ficinus, touching the sucking
of blood out of the arm.of a wholesome young man, for the

| restoration of strength, in old men, is very frivolous ; for

that which nourisheth from within, ought no way to be
equal or homogeneal to the body nourished, but in some
sort inferior and subordinate, that it may be converted.
But in things applied outwardly, by how much the sub-
stance is liker, by so much the consent is better.

11. It hath been anciently received, that a bath made of
the blood of infants will cure the leprosy, and heal the flesh
already putrefied ; insomuch that this thing hath begot
envy towards some kings from the common people.

12. It is reported that Heraclitus, for cure of the dropsy,
was put into the warm belly of an ox newly slain.

13. They use the blood of kitlings warm to cure the dis-
ease called St. Anthony’s Fire, and to restore the flesh and
skin.

14. An arm, or other member newly cut off, or that

upon some other occasion, will not leave bleeding, is with

good success put into the belly of some creatures newly
ripped up, for it worketh potently to stanch the blood ; the
blood of the member cut off, by consent sucking in, and
vehemently drawing to itself the warm blood of the crea-
ture slain, whereby itself is stopped, and retireth.

15. It is much used in extreme and desperate diseases
to cut in two young pigeons yet living, and apply them to
the soles of the feet, and to shift them one after another,
whereby sometime there followeth a wonderful ease. This
is imputed vulgarly, as if they should draw down the ma-
lignity of the disease: but howsoever, this application
goeth to the head, and comforteth the animal spirits.

16. But these bloody baths and unctions seem to us

_ sluttish and odious: let us search out some others, which

perhaps have less loathsomeness in them, and yet no less
benefit.

17. Next unto warm blood, things alike in substance to

398 ‘HISTORY OF

the body of a man are nutritives; fat fleshes of oxen, swine,
deer, oysters amongst fishes, milk, butter, yolks of eggs,
flower of wheat, sweet wine, either sugared, or before it be
fined.

18. Such things as we would have mixed to make im-
pression, are instead of all salts, especially baysalt: also
wine (when it is full of spirit) maketh entrance, and is an
excellent convoy.

19. Astringents of that kind which we described, namely,
unctuous and comfortable things, are saffron, mastick,
myrrhe, and myrtle-berries.

20. Of these parts, in our judgment, may very well be
made such a bath as we design: physicians and posterity
will find out better things hereafter.

21. But the operation will be much better, and more
powerful, if such a bath as we have propounded (which
we hold to be the principal matter) be attended with a
fourfold course and order.

22. First, that there go before the bath a frication of
the body, and an anointing with oil, with some thickening
substance, that the virtue and moistening heat of the bath
may pierce the body, and not the watery part of the liquor,
then let the bath follow, for the space of some two hours.
After the bath, let the body be emplastered with mastick,
myrrhe, tragacanth, diapalma, and saffron, that the perspi-
ration of the body may (as much as is possible) be inhibited,
till the supple matter be by degrees turned into solid.
This to be continued for the space of twenty-four hours, or
more. Lastly, the emplastering being removed, let there
be an anointing with oil mixed with salt and saffron, and
let this bath, together with the emplastering and unction
(as before), be renewed every fifth day. This malacissation,
or supplying of the body, be continued for one whole
month.

23. Also during the time of this malacissation, we hold
it useful and proper, and according to our intention, that
men nourish their bodies well, and keep out of the cold air,
and drink nothing but warm drink.

24. Now this is one of those things (as we warned in
general in the beginning) whereof we have made no trial by
experiment, but only set it down out of our aiming and level-
ing at the end. For having set up the mark, we deliver
the light to others.

25. Neither ought the warmths and cherishing of living
bodies to be neglected. Ficinus saith, and that seriously

LIFE AND DEATH. 399

enough, That the laying of the young maid in David’s
bosom was wholesome for him, but it came too late. He
should also have added, that the young maid, after the
manner of the Persian virgins, ought to have been anointed
with myrrh, and such like, not for deliciousness, but to
increasé the virtue of this cherishing by a living body.

26. Barbarossa in his extreme old age, by the advice of
a physician, a Jew, did continually apply young boys to his
stomach and belly, for warmth and cherishing. Also some
old men lay whelps (creatures of the hottest kind) close to
their stomachs every night.

27. There hath gone a report, almost undoubted, and
that under several names, of certain men that had great
noses, who, being weary of the derision of people, have cut
off the bunches or hillocks of their noses, and then making
a wide gash in their arms, have held their noses in the place
for a certain time, and so brought forth fair and comely
noses ; which, if it be true, it shows plainly the consent of
flesh unto flesh, especially in live fleshes.

28. Touching the particular inteneration of the principal
bowels, the stomach, lungs, liver, heart, brain, marrow of
the backbone, guts, reins, gall, veins, arteries, nerves, car-
tilages, bones, the inquisition and direction would be too
long, seeing we now set not forth a practic, but certain in-
dications to the practic.

x. The Operation upon the purging away of old Juice, and
supplying of new Juice ; or of Renovation by turns.
The History.

Although those things which we shall here set down have
been, for the most part, spoken of before; yet because this
operation is one of the principal, we will handle them over
again more at large.

1. It is certain, that draught oxen, which have been
worn out with working, being put into fresh and rich pas-
tures, will gather tender and young flesh again; and this
will appear even to the taste and palate; so that the intene-
ration of flesh is no hard matter. Now it is likely that this
inteneration of the flesh being often repeated, will in time
reach to the inteneration of the bones and membranes, and
like parts of the body.

2. It is certain, that diets which are now much in use,
principally of guaiacum, and of sarsaparilla, china, and
sassafras, if they be continued for any time, and according
to strict rules, do first attenuate the whole juice of the body,

400 _ .HISTORY OF

and after consume it, and drink it up. Which is most
manifest, because that by these diets the French pox, when
it is grown even to a hardness, and hath eaten up and cor-
rupted the very marrow of the body, may be effectually
cured. And, further, because it is manifest, that men, who
by these diets, are brought to be extreme lean, pale, and, as it
were, ghosts, will soon after become fat, well coloured, and
apparently young again. Wherefore we are absolutely of
opinion, that such kind of diets in the decline of age, being
used every year, would be very useful to our intention ; like
the old skin or spoil of serpents.

3. We do confidently affirm (neither let any man reckon
us among those heretics which were called Cathari), that
often purges, and made even familiar to the body, are more
available to long life than exercises and sweats. And this
must needs be so, if that be held which is already laid for
a ground, that unctions of the body, and oppletion of the
passages from without, and exclusion of air, and detaining
of the spirit within the mass of the body, do much conduce
to long life. For it is most certain, that by sweats and out-
ward perspirations, not only the humours and excrementi-
tious vapours are exhaled and consumed, but together
with them the juices also, and good spirits, which are not
so easily repaired; but in purges (unless they be very im-
moderate) it is not so, seeing they work principally upon
the humours. But the best purges for this intention are
those which are taken immediately before meat, because
they dry the body less; and, therefore, they must be of
those purgers which do least trouble the belly.

These intentions of the operations which we have pro-
pounded (as we conceive) are most true, the remedies faith-
ful to the intentions. Neither is it credible to be told
(although not a few df these remedies may seem but vulgar)
with what care and choice they have been examined by us,
that they might be (the intention not at all impeached) both
safe and effectual. Experience, no doubt, will both verify
and promote these matters. And such, in all things, are
the works of every prudent. counsel, that they are admirable
in their effects, excellent also i their order, but seeming
vulgar in the way and means.

The Porches of Death.

We are now to inquire touching the porches of death,
that is, touching those things which happen unto men at
the point of death, both a little before and after; that seeing
there are many paths which lead to death, it may be un-

LIFE AND DEATH. 401

derstood in what common way they all end, especially in

those deaths which are caused by indigence of nature,

rather than by violence; although something of this latter

also must be inserted, because of the connexion of things.
The History.

1. The living spirit stands in need of three things that it
may subsist; convenient motion, temperate refrigeration,
and fit aliment. Flame seems to stand in need but of two
of these, namely, motion and aliment, because flame is a
simple substance, the spirit a compounded, insomuch that
if it approach somewhat too near to a flamy nature, it over-
throweth itself.

2. Also flame by a greater and stronger flame is extin-
guished and slain, as Aristotle well noted, much more the
spirit.

"3, Flame, if it be much compressed and straightened, is
extinguished ; as we may see in a candle having a glass
cast over it, for the air being dilated by the heat doth con-
trude and thrust together the flame, and so lesseneth it, and
in the end extinguisheth it; and fires on hearths will not
flame, if the fuel be thrust close together, without any
space for the flame to break forth.

4. Also things fired are extinguished with compression ;
as if you press a burning coal hard with the tongs, or the
foot, it is straight extineuished.

5. But to come to the spirit; if blood or phlegm get into
the ventricles of the brain, it causeth sudden death, because
the spirit hath no room to move itself.

6. Also a great blow on the head induceth sudden death,
appa being straightened within the ventricles of the

rain.

7. Opium, and other strong stupefactives, do coagulate
the spirit, and deprive it of the motion.

8. A venemous vapour, totally abhorred by the spirit,
causeth sudden death; as in deadly poisons, which work
(as they call it) by a special malignity ; for they strike a
loathing into the spirit, that the spirit will no more move
itself, nor rise against a thing so much detested.

9. Also extreme drunkenness, or extreme feeding, some-
time cause sudden death, seeing the spirit is not only op-
pressed with over much condensing, or the malignity of the
vapour (as in opium and malignant poisons), but also with
the abundance of the vapours.

10. Extreme grief or fear, especially if they be sudden (as it
is in a sad and unexpected message), cause sudden death.

VOL. XL. DD

402 HISTORY OF

11. Not only over much compression, but also over much
dilatation of the spirit, is deadly.

12. Joys excessive and sudden have bereft many of their
lives.

13. In greater evacuations, as when they cut men for
the dropsy, the waters flow forth abundantly, much more
in great and sudden fluxes of blood, oftentimes present
death followeth; and this happens by the mere flight of
vacuum within the body, all the parts moving to fill the
empty places; and, amongst the rest, the spirits themselves.
For as for slow fluxes of blood, this matter pertains to
the indigence of nourishment, not to the diffusion of the
spirits. And touching the motion of the spirit so far,
either compressed or diffused, that it bringeth death, thus
much.

14, We must come next to the want of refrigeration.
Stopping of the breath causeth sudden death ; as in all suf-
focation or strangling. Now it seems this matter is not so
much to be referred to the impediment of motion as to the
impediment of refrigeration; for air over hot, though at-
tracted freely, doth no less suffocate than if breathing were
hindered ; as it is in them who have been sometime suffo-
cated with burning coals, or with charcoal, or with walls
new plastered in close chambers where a fire is made;
which kind of death is reported to have been the end of the
emperor Jovinian. The like happeneth from dry baths over
heated, which was practised in the killing of Fausta, wife
to Constantine the Great.

15. It is a very small time which nature taketh to repeat
the breathing, and in which she desireth to expel the foggy
air drawn into the lungs, and to take in new, scarce the
third part of a minute.

16. Again, the beating of the pulse, and the motion of
the systole and diastole of the heart, are three times quicker
than that of breathing ;, insomuch that if it were possible
that that motion of the heart could be stopped without

stopping the breath, death would follow more speedily there- _

upon than by strangling.

17. Notwithstanding, use and custom prevail much in —

this natural action of breathing; as it is in the Delian
divers and fishers for pearl, who by long use can hold their
breaths at least ten times longer than other men can do.

18, Amongst living creatures, even of those that have
lungs, there are some that are able to hold their breaths a
long time, and others that cannot hold them so long, ac-
cording as they need more or less refrigeration.

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LIFE AND DEATH. 403

19. Fishes need less refrigeration than terrestrial crea-
tures, yet some they need, and take it by their gills. And
as terrestrial creatures cannot bear the air that is too hot,
or too close, so fishes are suffocated in waters if they be
totally and long frozen.

20. If the spirit be assaulted by another heat greater
than itself, it is dissipated and destroyed; for it cannot
bear the proper heat without refrigation, much less can it
bear another heat which is far stronger. This is to be seen
in burning fevers, where the heat of the putrefied humours
doth exceed the native heat, even to extinction or dissipa-
tion.

21. The want also and use of sleep is referred to refri-
geration; for motion doth attenuate and rarify the spirit,
and doth sharpen and increase the heat thereof: contrarily,
sleep settleth and restraineth the motion and gadding of the
same; for though sleep doth strengthen and advance the
actions of the parts and of the liveless spirits, and all that
motion which is to the circumference of the body, yet it
doth in great part quiet and still the proper motion of the
living spirit. Now sleep regularly is due unto human na-
ture once within four and twenty hours, and that for six, or
five hours at the least; though there are, even in this kind,
sometimes miracles of nature; as it is recorded of Mecenas,
that he slept not for a long time before his death. And as
touching the want of refrigeration for conserving of the
spirit, thus much.

22. As concerning the third indigence, namely of aliment,
it seems to pertain rather to the parts, than to the living
spirit; for a man may easily believe that the living spirit
subsisteth in identity, not by succession or renovation.
And as for the reasonable soul in men, it is above all ques-
tion, that it is not ingendered of the soul of the parents,
nor is repaired, nor can die. They speak of the natural
spirit of living creatures, and also of vegetables, which
differs from that other soul essentially and formally; for
out of the confusion of these, that same transmigration of
souls, and innumerable other devices of heathens and here-
ticks have proceeded.

23. The body of man doth regularly require renovation
by aliment every day, and a body in health can scarce
endure fasting ach days together; notwithstanding, use
and custom will do much, even in this case; but in sick-
ness fasting is less grievous to the body. Also sleep doth
supply somewhat to nourishment; and on the other side,

exercise doth require it more abundantly. Likewise there

404 HISTORY OF

have some been found who sustained themselves (almost to
a miracle in nature) a very long time without meat or drink.

24. Dead bodies, if they be not intercepted by putrefac-
tion, will subsist a long time without any notable absump-
tion; but living bodies, not above three days (as we said),
unless they be repaired by nourishment; which showeth
that quick absumption to be the work of the living spirit,
which either repairs itself, or puts the parts into a necessity
of being repaired, or both. ‘This is testified by that also
which was noted a little before, namely, that living crea-
tures may subsist somewhat the longer without aliment if
they sleep: now sleep is nothing else but a reception and
retirement of the living spirit into itself. :

25. An abundant and continual effluxion of blood, which
sometimes happeneth in the hemorrhoides, sometimes in
vomiting of blood, the inward veins being unlocked or
broken, sometimes by wounds, causeth sudden death, in
regard that the blood of the veins ministereth to the arteries,
and the blood of the arteries to the spirit.

26. The quantity of meat and drink which a man, eating
two meals a day, receiveth into his body, is not small;
much more than he voideth again either by stool, or by
urine, or by sweating. You will say, no marvel, seeing the
remainder goeth into the juices and substance of the body.
It is true; but consider then, that this addition is made
twice a day, and yet the body aboundeth not much. In
like manner, though the spirit be repaired, yet it grows not
excessively in the quantity.

27. It doth no good to have the aliment ready, in a
degree removed, but to have it of that kind, and so pre-
pared and supplied, that the spirit may work upon it; for
the staff of a torch alone will not maintain the flame, unless
it be fed with wax, neither can men live upon herbs alone.
And from thence comes the inconcoction of old age, that
though there be flesh and blood, yet the spirit is become so
penurious and thin, and the juices and blood so heartless
and obstinate, that they hold no proportion to alimentation.

28. Let us now cast up the accounts of the needs and
indigences according to the ordinary and usual course of
nature. The spirit hath need of opening and moving itself
in the ventricles of the brain and nerves even continually,
of the motion of the heart every third part of a moment,
of breathing every moment, of sleep and nourishment once
within three days, of the power of nourishment commonly
till eighty years be past; and if any of these indigences be

LIFE AND DEATH. 405

neglected death ensueth. So there are plainly three porches
of death; destitution of the spirit in the motion, in the
refrigeration, in the aliment.

It is an error to think that the living spirit is perpetually
generated and extinguished as flame is, and abideth not
any notable time; for even flame itself is not thus out of
its own proper nature, but because it liveth amongst ene-
mies; for flame within flame endureth. Now -the living
spirit liveth amongst friends, and all due obsequiousness. So
then, as flame is a momentary substance, air is a fixed sub-
stance, the living spirit is betwixt both.

Touching the extinguishing of the spirit by the destruc-
tion of the organs (which is caused by diseases and vio-
lence), we inquire not now, as we foretold in the beginning, ~
although that also endeth in the same three porches. And
touching the form of death itself, thus much.

29. There are two great forerunners of death, the one
sent from the head, the other from the heart ; convulsion,
and the extreme labour of the pulse: for as for the deadly
hiccough, it is a kind of convulsion. But the deadly labour
of the pulse hath that unusual swiftness, because the heart
at the point of death doth so tremble, that the systole and
diastole thereof are almost confounded. ‘There is also
conjoined in the pulse a weakness and lowness, and often-
times a great intermission, because the motion of the heart
faileth, and is not able to rise against the assault stoutly
or constantly.

30. The immediate preceding signs of death are, great
unquietness and tossing in the bed, fumbling with the
hands, catching and grasping hard, gnashing with the
teeth, speaking hollow, trembling of the nether lip, paleness
of the face, the memory confused, speechless, cold sweats,
the body shooting in length, lifting up the white of the eye,
changing of the whole visage (as the nose sharp, eyes hol-
low, cheeks fallen), contraction and doubling of the coldness
in the extreme parts of the body, in some, shedding of blood,
or sperm, shrieking, breathing thick and short, falling of
the nether chap, and such like.

31. There follow death a privation of all sense and motion,
as well of the heart and arteries as of the nerves and joints,
an inability of the body to support itself upright, stiffness
of the nerves and parts, extreme coldness of the whole body,
after a little while putrefaction and stinking.

32. Eels, serpents, and the insecta, will move a long time
in every part after they are cut asunder, insomuch that

406 HISTORY OF

country people think that the parts strive to join together
again. Also birds will flutter a great while after their
heads are pulled off; and the hearts of living creatures will
pant a long time after they are plucked out. I remember
I have seen the heart of ohe that was bowelled, as suffer-
ing for high treason, that being cast into the fire, leaped at
the first at least a foot and half in height, and after, by
degrees, lower and lower, for the space, as | remember, of
seven or eight minutes. There is also an ancient and cre-
dible tradition of an ox lowing after his bowels were plucked
out. But there is a more certain tradition of a man, who
being under the executioner’s hand for high treason, after
his heart was plucked out, and in the executioner’s hand,
* was heard to utter three or four words of prayer; which
therefore we said to be more credible than that of the ox
in sacrifice, because the friends of the party suffering do
usually give a reward to the executioner to dispatch his
office with the more speed, that they may the sooner be rid
of their pain; but in sacrifices, we see no cause why the
priest should be so speedy in his office.

- 83. For reviving those again which fall into sudden
swoonings and catalepses of astonishments (in which fits
many, without present help, would utterly expire), these
things are used, putting into their mouths water distilled
of wine, which they call hot waters, and cordial waters,
bending the body forward, stopping the mouth and nostrils
hard, bending or wringing the fingers, pulling the hairs of
the beard or head, rubbing of the parts, especially the face
and legs, sudden casting of cold water upon the face,
shrieking out aloud, and suddenly ; putting rosewater to
the nostrils, with vinegar in faintings ; burning of feathers,
or cloth, in the suffocation of the mother; but especially a
fryingpan heated red hot, is good in apoplexies; also a
close embracing of the body hath helped some.

34. There have been many examples of men in show
dead, either laid out upon the cold floor, or carried forth
to burial; nay, of some buried in the earth ; which not-
withstanding have lived again, which hath been found in
those that were buried (the earth being afterwards opened)
by the bruising and wounding of their head, through the
struggling of the body within the coffin ; whereof the most
recent and memorable example was that of Joannes Scotus,
called the subtile, and a schoolman, who being digged up
again by his servant (unfortunately absent at his burial,
and who knew his master’s manner in such fits), was found

LIFE AND DEATH. 407

in that state: and the like happened in our days in the
person of a player, buried at Cambridge. I remember to
have heard of a certain gentleman that would needs make
trial, in curiosity, what men did ,feel that were hanged; so
he fastened the cord about his neck, raising himself upon
a stool, and then letting himself fall, thinking it should
be in his power to recover the stool at his pleasure, which
he failed in, but was helped by a friend then present. He
was asked afterward what he felt; he said he felt no pain,
but first he thought he saw before his eyes a great fire, and
burning; then he thought he saw all black, and dark ;
lastly, it turned to a pale blue, or seawater green; which
colour is also often seen by them which fall into swoonings.
I have heard also of a physician, yet living, who recovered
a man to life which had hanged himself, and had hanged
half an hour, by frications and hot baths; and the same
physician did profess, that he made no doubt to recover
any man that had hanged so long, so his neck were not
broken with the first swing. :

The Differences of Youth and Old Age.

To the sixteenth article.

1. The ladder of man’s body is this, to be conceived, to
be quickened in the womb, to be born, to suck, to be weaned,
to feed upon pap, to put forth teeth the first time, about
the second year of age,*to begin to go, to begin to speak, to
put forth teeth the second time, about seven years of age,
to come to puberty about twelve or fourteen years of age,
to be able for generation, and the flowing of the menstrua,
to have hairs about the legs and arm holes, to put forth a
beard; and thus long, and sometimes later, to grow in
stature, or to come to full years of strength and agility, to
grow gray and bald; the menstrua ceasing, and ability to
Jenene to grow decrepit, and a monster with three

egs, todie. Meanwhile the mind also hath certain periods,
but they cannot be described oy years, as to decay in the
memory, and the like, of which hereafter.

2. The differences of youth and old age are these: a
young man’s skin is smooth and plain, an old man’s dry
and wrinkled, especially about the forehead and eyes; a
young man’s flesh is tender and soft, an old man’s hard ; a
young man hath strength and agility, an old man feels de-
cay in his strength, and is slow of motion; a young man
hath good digestion, an old man bad; a young man’s
bowels are soft and succulent, an old man’s salt and

408 . HISTORY OF

parched; a young man’s body is erect and straight, an old

man’s bowing and crooked; a young man’s limbs are
steady, an old man’s weak and trembling ; the humours in
a young man are cholerick, and his blood inclined to heat,
in an old man phlegmatic and melancholic, and his blood
inclined to coldness; a young man ready for the act of
Venus, an old man slow unto it; in a young man the
juices of his body are more roscid, in an old man more
crude and waterish; the spirit in a youug man plentiful
and boiling, in an old man scarce and jejune; a young
man’s spirit is dense and vigorous, an old man’s eager and
rare; a young man hath his senses quick and entire, an
old man dull and decayed ; a young man’s teeth are strong
and entire, an old man’s weak, worn, and fallen out; a
young man’s hair is coloured, an old man’s (of what colour
soever it were) gray ; a young man hath hair, an old man
baldness ; a young man’s pulse is stronger and quicker, an

old man’s more confused and slower ; the diseases of young »

men are more acute and curable, of old men longer, and
hard to cure; a young man’s wounds soon close, an old
_ man’s later; a young man’s cheeks are of a fresh colour,
an old man’s pale, or with a black blood: a young man is
less troubled with rheums, an old man more. Neither do
we know in what things old men do improve, as touching
their body, save only sometimes in fatness; whereof the
reason is soon given, because old men’s bodies do neither
perspire well, nor assimilate well. Now fatness is nothing
else but an exuberance of nourishment above that which is
voided by excrement, or which is perfectly assimilated.
Also some old men improve in the appetite of feeding, by
reason of the acid humours, though old men digest worst.
And all these things which we have said, physicians neg-
ligently enough will refer to the diminution of the natural
heat and radical moisture, which are things of no worth
for use. This is certain, dryness in the coming on of years
doth forego coldness; and bodies, when they come to the
top and strength of heat, do decline in dryness, and after
that follows coldness.

3. Now we are to consider the affections of the mind. I
remember when I was a young man, at Poictiers in France,
I conversed familiarly with a certain Frenchman, a witty
young man, but something talkative, who afterwards grew
to be a very eminent man ; he was wont to inveigh against
the manners of old men, and would say, that if their minds
could be seen as their bodies are, they would appear no less
deformed. Besides, being in love with his own wit, he

Cp. Ge ee

fod 2 healt fe ifdee

LIFE AND DEATH. 409

would maintain, that the vices of old men’s minds have some
correspondence, and were parallel to the putrefactions of
their bodies: for the dryness of their skin, he would bring
in impudence; for the hardness of their bowels, unmerci-
fulness; for the lippitude of their eyes, an evil eye, and
envy; for the casting down of their eyes, and bowing their
body towards the earth, atheism (for, saith he, they look
no more up to heaven as they are wont); for the trembling
of their members, irresolutions of their decrees and light
inconstancy ; for the bending of their fingers, as it were to
catch, rapacity and covetousness ; for the buckling of their
knees, fearfulness; for their wrinkles, craftiness and obli-
quity ; and other things which I have forgotten. But to
be serious, a young man is modest and shamefaced, an old
man’s forehead is hardened ; a young man is full of bounty
and mercy, an old man’s heart is brawny; a young man
is affected with a laudable emulation, an old man with a
malignant envy; a young man is inclined to religion and
devotion, by reason of his fervency and inexperience of evil,
an old man cooleth in piety through the coldness of his
charity, and long conversation in evil, and likewise through
the difficulty of his belief; a young man’s degires are ve-
hement, an old man’s moderate ; a young man is light and
moveable, an old man more grave and constant; a young
man is given to liberality and beneficence, and humanity,
an old man to covetousness, wisdom for his own self, and
seeking his own ends; a young man is confident and full
of hope, an old man diffident, and given to suspect most
things ; a young man is gentle and obsequious, an old man
froward and disdainful; a young man is sincere and open-
hearted, an old man cautelous and close ; a young man is
given to desire great things, an old man to regard things
necessary ; a young man thinks well of the present times,
an old man preferreth times past before them; a young
man reverenceth his superiors, an old man is more forward
to tax them; and many other things, which pertain rather
to manners, than to the present inquisition. Notwith-—
standing old men, as in some things they improve in their
bodies, so also in their minds, unless they be altogether out
of date; namely, that as they are less apt for invention, so'
they excel in judgment, and prefer safe things, and sound
things, before specious. Also they improve in garrulity
and ostentation, for they seek the fruit of speech while
they are less able for action. So as it was not absurd that
the poets feigned old Tython to be turned into a grass-
hopper.

410 HISTORY OF

Moveable Canons of the Duration of Life and Form
of Death.

CANON I.

Consumption is not caused, unless that which is departed
with by one body passeth into another.

THE EXPLICATION.

There is in nature no annihilating, or reducing to nothing.
Therefore that which is consumed, is either resolved into
air, or turned into some body adjacent. So we see a spider,
or fly, or ant in amber, entombed in a more stately monu-
ment than kings are; to be laid up for eternity, although
they be but tender things, and soon dissipated. But the
matter is this, that there is no air by, into which they should
be resolved, and the substance of the amber is so hetero-
geneous, that it receives nothing of them. The like we
conceive would be if a stick, or root, or some such thing
were buried in quicksilver ; also wax, and honey, and gums,
have the same operation, but in part only.

CANON Il,

£
_ There is in every tangible body a spirit, covered and en-
compassed with the grosser parts of the body, and from it all
consumption and dissolution hath the beginning.

THE EXPLICATION,

No body known unto us here in the upper part of the
earth is without a spirit, either by attenuation and concoc-
tion from the heat of the heavenly bodies, or by some other
way; for the concavities of tangible things receive not
vacuum, but either air, or the proper spirit of the thing,
And this spirit whereof we speak, is not from virtue, or
energy, or act, or a trifle, but plainly a body, rare and in-
visible ; notwithstanding circumscribed by place, quantita-
tive, real. Neither, again, is that spirit air (no more than
wine is water), but a body rarefied, of kin to air, though
much different from it. Now the grosser parts of bodies
(being dull things, and not apt for motion) would last a
long time; but the spirit is that which troubleth, and
plucketh, and undermineth them, and converteth the mois-
ture of the body, and whatsoever itis able to digest, into
new spirit; and then as well the preexisting spirit of the
body, as that newly made fly away together by degrees.
This is best seen by the diminution of the weight in bodies

-stop

LIFE AND DEATH. 4\1l

dried through perspiration; for neither all that which is
issued forth was spirit when the body was ponderous, neither
was it not spirit when it issued forth.

CANON Ill.

The spirit issuing forth dryeth; detained and working
within erther melteth, or putrefieth, or vivifieth.

THE EXPLICATION.

There are four processes of the spirit; to arefaction, to
colloquation, putrefaction, to generation of bodies. Arefac-
tion is not the proper work of the spirit, but of the grosser
parts after the spirit issued forth ; for then they contract
themselves partly by their flight of vacuum, partly by the
union of the homogeneals ; as appears in all things which
are arefied by age, and in the drier sort of bodies which
have passed the fire; as bricks, charcoal, bread. Collo-
quation is the mere work of the spirit; neither is it done,
but when they are excited by heat; for when the spirits
dilating themselves, yet not getting forth, do insinuate and
disperse themselves among the grosser parts, and so make
them soft and apt to run, as it is in metals and wax; for
metals, and all tenacious things, are apt to inhibit the
spirit; that being excited, it issueth not forth. Putrefac-
tion is a mixed work of the spirits, and of the grosser parts ;
for the spirit (which before restrained and bridled the parts
of the thing) being partly issued forth, and partly enfeebled,
all things in the body do dissolve and return to their ho-
mogeneities, or (if you will) to their elements; that which
was spirit in it is congregated to itself, whereby things putre-
fied ‘begin to have an ill savour; the oily parts to them-
selves, whereby things putrefied have that slipperiness and
unctuosity; the watery parts also to themselves, the dregs
to themselves; whence followeth that confusion in bodies
putrefied. But generation or vivification is a work also
mixed of the spirit and grosser parts, but in a far different
manner; for the spirit is totally detained, but it swelleth
and moveth locally ; and the grosser parts are not dissolved,
but follow the motion of the spirit; and are, as it were,
blown out by it, and extruded into divers figures, from
whence cometh that generation and organization; and,
therefore, vivification is always done in a matter tenacious
and clammy, and again yielding and soft, that there may
be both a detention of the spirit, and also a gentle cession
of the parts, according as the spirit forms them. And this
is seen in the matter, as well of all vegetables, as of living

412 HISTORY OF

creatures, whether they be engendered of putrefaction, or
of sperm, for in all these things there is manifestly seen a
matter hard to break through, easy to yield.

CANON IV.

In all living creatures there are two kinds of spirits:

liveless spirits, such as are in bodies inanimate ; and a vital
spirit superadded.

THE EXPLICATION.

It was said before, that to procure long life, the body of .

man must be considered ; first, as inanimate, and not re-
paired by nourishment; secondly, as animate, and repaired
by nourishment. For the former, consideration gives laws
touching consumption, thelattertouching reparation. There-

fore we must know, that there are in human flesh bones,

membranes, organs; finally, in all the parts such spirits
diffused in the substance of them while they are alive, as
there are in the same things (flesh, bones, membranes, and
the rest) separated and dead, such as also remain in a car-
cass; but the vital spirit, although it ruleth them, and hath
some consent with them, yet it is far differitg from them,
being integral, and subsisting by itself. Now there are
two special differences betwixt the liveless spirits and the
vital spirits. The one, that the liveless spirits are not con-
tinued to themselves, but are, as it were, cut off and encom-
passed with a gross body, which intercepts them, as air is
mixed with snowor froth ; but the vital spirit is all continued
to itself by certain conduit pipes through which it passeth,
and is not totally intercepted. And this spirit is twofold

also; the one branched, only passing through small pipes, ©

and, as it were, strings, the other hath a cell also, so as it
is not only continued to itself, but also congregated in a
hollow space in reasonable good quantity, according to the
analogy of the body ; and in that cell is the fountain of the
rivulets which branch from thence. The cell is chiefly in
the ventricles of the brain, which in the ignobler sort of
creatures are but narrow, insomuch that the spirits in them
seem scattered over their whole body, rather than celled ;
as may be seen in serpents, eels, and flies, whereof every of
their parts move long after they are cut asunder. Birds
also leap a good while after their heads are et off, be-
cause they have little heads and little cells. But the nobler
sort of creatures have those ventricles larger, and man the
largest of all. The other difference betwixt the spirits is,
that the vital spirit hath a kind of inkindling, and 1s like a

ae

SEP pm iar rom ape nes EY

LIFE AND DEATH. 413

wind or breath compounded of flame and air, as the juices
of living creatures have both oil and water. And this in-
kindling ministereth peculiar motions and faculties; for
the smoke which is inflammable, even before the flame
conceived, is hot, thin, and moveable, and yet it is quite
another thing after it is become flame; but the inkindling
of the vital spirits is by many degrees gentler than the softest
flame, as of spirit of wine, or otherwise; and besides, it is
in great part mixed with an aerial substance, that it should
be a mystery or miracle, both of a flammeous and aereous
nature.
CANON V.

The natural actions are proper to the several parts, but tt
as the vital spirit that excites and sharpens them.

THE EXPLICATION,

The actions or functions which are in the several mem-
bers, follow the nature of the members themselves (attrac-
tion, retention, digestion, assimilation, separation, excretion,
perspiration, even sense itself), according to the propriety
of the several organs (the stomach, liver, heart, spleen, gall,
brain, eye, ear, and the rest), yet none of these actions
would ever have been actuated but by the vigour and pre-
sence of the vital spirit, and heat thereof; as one iron
would not have drawn another iron, unless it had been ex-
cited by the loadstone ; noran egg would ever have brought
forth a bird, unless the substance of the hen had been
actuated by the treading of the cock.

CANON VI.
The liveless spirits are next consubstantial to air ; the vital

_ spirits approach more to the substance of flame.

THE EXPLICATION.

The explication of the precedent fourth canon is also a
declaration of this present canon. But yet further, from
hence it is, that all fat and oily things continue long ‘in
their being. For neither doth the air much pluck them,
neither do they much desire to join themselves with air.
As for that conceit, it is altogether vain, that flame should
be air set on fire, seeing flame and air are no less hetero-
geneal, than oil and water. But whereas it is said in the
canon, that the vital spirits approach more to the substance
of flame; it must be understood, that they do this more
than the liveless spirits, not that they are more flamy than
air.

414 HISTORY OF

CANON VII,

The spirit hath two desires, one of multiplying itself, the

other of flying forth, and congregating itself with the con-
naturals.
THE EXPLICATION.

The canon is understood of the liveless spirits; for as for

the second desire, the vital spirit doth most of all abhor |

flying forth of the body, for it finds no connatural here
below to join withal. Perhaps it may sometimes fly to the
outward parts of the body, to meet that which it loveth;
but the flying forth, as I said, it abhorreth. But in the
liveless spirits each of these two desires holdeth. For to
the former this belongeth, every spirit seated amongst the
grosser parts dwelleth unhappily ; and, therefore, when it
finds not a like unto itself,it doth so much the more labour
to create and make a like, as being in a great solitude, and
endeavour earnestly to multiply itself, and to prey upon the
volatile of the grosser parts, that it may be increased in
quantity. As for the second desire of flying forth, and be-

taking itself to the air, it is certain, that all light things.

(which are ever moveable) do willingly go unto their likes
near unto them, as a drop of water is carried to a drop,
flame to flame; but much more this is done in the flyin

forth of spirit into the air ambient, because it is not coal
to a particle like unto itself, but also as unto the globe of
the connaturals. Meanwhile this is to be noted, that the
going forth, and flight of the spirit into air is a redoubled
action, partly out of the appetite of the spirit, partly out of
the appetite of the air, for the common air is a needy thing,

and receiveth all things speedily, as spirits, odours, beams, —

sounds, and the like.
CANON VIII.

Spirit detained, tf it have no possibility of begetting new
spirits, intenerateth the grosser parts.

THE EXPLICATION.

Generation of new spirit is not accomplished but upon
those things which are in some degree near to the spirit,
such as are humid bodies. And, therefore, if the grosser
parts (amongst which the spirit converseth) be in a remote
degree, although the spirit cannot convert them, yet (as
much as it can) it weakeneth, and softeneth, and sub-
dueth them, that seeing it cannot increase in quantity,

|
|

LIFE AND DEATH. 415

yet it will dwell more at large, and live amongst good
neighbours and friends. Now this aphorism is most useful
to our end, because it tendeth to the inteneration of the
obstinate parts by the detention of the spirit.

CANON IX.

The inteneration of the harder parts cometh to good effect
when the spirit neither flieth forth, nor begetteth new spirit.

THE EXPLICATION.

This canon solveth the knot and difficulty in the opera-
tion of intenerating by the detention of the spirit; for if
the spirit not flying forth wasteth all within, there is no-
thing gotten to the inteneration of the parts in their sub-
sistence, but rather they are dissolved and corrupted. There-
fore together with the detention, the spirits ought to be

_ cooled and restrained, that they may not be too active.

CANON X.

Lhe heat of the spirit to keep the body fresh and green,
ought to be robust, not eager.

THE EXPLICATION.

Also this canon pertaineth to the solving of the knot
aforesaid, but it is of a much larger extent, for it setteth
down of what temperament the heat in the body ought to
be for the obtaining of long life. Now this is useful, whe-
ther the spirits be detained, or whether they be not. For
howsoever the heat of the spirits must be such, as it may
rather turn itself upon the hard parts, than waste the soft;
for the one desiccateth, the other intenerateth. Besides,
the same thing is available to the well perfecting of assi-
milation ; for such a heat doth excellently excite the faculty
of assimilation, and withal doth excellently prepare the
matter to be assimilated. Now the properties of this kind
of heat ought to be these. First, that it be slow, and heat
not suddenly. Secondly, that it be not very intense, but
moderate. Thirdly, that it be equal, not incomposed ;
namely, intending and remitting itself. Fourthly, that if
this heat meet any thing to resist it, it be not easily suf-
focated or languish. The operation is exceeding subtile,
but seeing it is one of the most useful, it is not to be
deserted. Now in those remedies which we propounded to
invest the spirits with a robust heat, or that which we call
operative, not predatory, we have in some sort satisfied this
matter.

416 HISTORY OF

| CANON XI.
The condensing of the spirits in their substance is available

to long life.
THE EXPLICATION.

This canon is subordinate to the next precedent; for the
spirit condensed receiveth all those four properties of heat
whereof we speak ; but the ways of condensing them are
set down in the first of the ten operations.

CANON XII.

The spirit in great quantity hasteneth more to flying forth,
and preyeth upon the body more, than in small quantity.

THE EXPLICATION.

This canon is clear of itself, seeing mere quantity doth
regularly increase virtue. And it is to be seen in flames,
that the bigger they are the stronger they break forth, and
the more speedily they consume. And, therefore, over great
plenty, or exuberance of the spirits, is altogether hurtful to
long life; neither need one wish a greater store of spirits,
than what is sufficient for the function of life, and the office
of a good reparation. :

CANON XIII.

The spirit equally dispersed, maketh less haste to fly forth,
and preyeth less upon the body, than unequally placed.

THE EXPLICATION.

Not only abundance of spirits, in respect of the whole, is
hurtful to the duration of things, but also the same abun-
dance, unevenly placed, is in like manner hurtful; and,
therefore, the more the spirit is shred and inserted by small
portions, the less it preyeth; for dissolution ever beginneta
at that part where the spirit is loser. And therefore both
exercise and frications conduce much to long life, for agita-

tion doth fineliest diffuse and commix things by small —

portions.
CANON XIV.

The inordinate and subsultory motion of the spirits doth
more hasten to going forth, and doth prey upon the body
more, than the constant and equal.

THE EXPLICATION.

In inanimates this canon holds for certain, for inequality
is the mother of dissolution; but in animates (because not

only the consumption is considered, but the reparation, and

reparation proceedeth by the appetites of things, and appe-

BB i dis ot CNM os al aa

LIFE AND DEATH. 2 417

tite is sharpened by variety), it holdeth not rigorously ; but
it is so far forth to be received, that this variety be rather
an alternation or interchange, than a confusion ; and, as it
were, constant in inconstancy.

CANON XV.
The spirit in a body of a solid composure is detained,
though unwillingly.
THE EXPLICATION,

All things do abhor a solution of their continuity, but
yet in proportion to their density or rarity; for the more
rare the bodies be, the more do they suffer themselves to
be thrust into small and narrow passages ; for water will
go“into a passage which dust will not go into, and air
which water will not go into; nay, flame and spirit which
air will not go into. Notwithstanding of this thing, there
are some bounds, for the spirit is not so much transported
with the desire of going forth, that it will suffer itself to be
too much discontinued, or be driven into over straight
pores and passages; and therefore if the spirit be encom-
passed with a hard body, or else with an unctuous and
tenacious (which is not easily divided), it is plainly bound,
and, as I may say, imprisoned, and layeth down the appe-
tite of going out; wherefore we see that metals and stones
require a long time for their spirit to go forth, unless either
the spirit be excited by the fire, or the grosser parts be
dissevered with corroding and strong waters. The like
reason is there of tenacious bodies, such as are gums, save
only that they are melted by a more gentle heat; and
therefore the juices of the body hard, a close and compact
skin, and the like (which are procured by the dryness of
the aliment, and by exercise, and by the coldness of the
air), are good for long life, because they detain the spirit in
close prison, that it goeth not forth,

CANON XVI.

In oily and fat things the spirit is detained willingly,
though they be not tenacious.

THE EXPLICATION.

The spirit, if it be not irritated by the antipathy of the
body inclosing it, nor fed by the over much likeness of that
body, nor solicited nor invited by the external body, it
makes no great stir to get out; all which are wanting to
oily bodies, for they are neither so pressing upon the
spirits as hard bodies, nor so near as watery bodies, neither
have they any good agreement with the air ambient.

VOL. XIV. E E

A418 HISTORY OF

CANON XVII.

The speedy flying forth of the watery humour conserves
the oily the longer in his being. |

THE EXPLICATION.

We said before, that the watery humours, as being con-
substantial to the air, fly forth soonest; the oily later, as
having small agreement with the air. Now whereas these
two humours are in most bodies, it comes to pass that the
watery doth in a sort betray the oily, for that issuing forth
insensibly carrieth this together with it. Therefore there is
nothing more furthereth the conservation of bodies, than a
gentle drying of them, which causeth the watery humour to

‘expire, and inviteth not the oily; for then the oily enjoyeth
the proper nature. And this tendeth not only to the inhi-
biting of putrefaction (though that also followeth), but to

the conservation of greenness. Hence it is, that gentle

frications, and moderate exercises, causing rather perspi-
ration than sweating, conduce much to long life.

CANON XVIII.

Air excluded conferreth to long life, if other inconveni-
ences be avoided.

THE EXPLICATION,

We said a little before, that the flying forth of the spirit
is a redoubled action, from the appetite of the spirit, and
of the air; and therefore if either of these be taken out of
the way, there is not a little gained. Notwithstanding
divers inconveniences follow hereupon, which how they
may be prevented we have showed in the second of our
operations,

CANON XIX.

Youthful spirits inserted into an old body, might soon turn
nature’s course back again.

THE EXPLICATION.

The nature of the spirits is as the uppermost wheel,
which turneth about the other wheels in the body of man ;
and therefore in the intention of long life, that ought to be
first placed. Hereunto may be added, that there is an
easier and more expedite way to alter the spirits, than to
other operations. For the operation upon the spirits is
twofold ; the one by aliments, which is slow, and as it
were, about; the other (and that twofold), which is sud-
den, and goeth directly to the spirits, namely, by vapours,
or by the affections.

5 il ate ss
Sie et it Na Se 1S St Ro ae oe aa

LIFE AND DEATH. 419

CANON Xx.
Juices of the body hard and roscid are good for long life.
THE EXPLICATION.

The reason is plain, seeing we showed before, that hard
things, and oily or roscid, are hardly dissipated ; notwith-
standing there is difference (as we also noted in the tenth
operation), that juice somewhat hard is indeed less dissipa-
ble, but then it is withal less reparable; therefore a conve-
nience is interlaced with an inconvenience, and for this
cause no wonderful matter will be achieved by this. But
roscid juice will admit both operations; therefore this
would be principally endeavoured.

CANON XXI.

Whatsoever is of thin parts to penetrate, and yet hath no
acrimony to bite, begetteth roscid juices.

THE EXPLICATION.

This canon is more hard to practise than to understand.
For it is manifest, whatsoever penetrateth well, but yet
with a sting or tooth (as do all sharp and sour things), it
leaveth behind it, wheresoever it goeth, some mark or print
of dryness and cleaving, so that it hardeneth the juices,
and chappeth the parts; contrarily, whatsoever things pe-
netrate through their thinness merely, as it were by stealth,
and by way of insinuation without violence, they bedew
and water in their passage. Of which sort we have
recounted many in the fourth and seventh operations.

CANON XXII.
Assimilation is best done when all local motion is expended.
THE EXPLICATION.

This canon we have sufficiently explained in our dis-
course upon the eighth operation.

CANON XXIII.

Alimentation from without, at least some other way than
by the stomach, 1s most profitable for long life, if it can be
done.

| THE EXPLICATION.

We see that all things which are done by nutrition ask
a long time, but those which are done by embracing of the
like (as it is in infusions) require no long time. And there-
fore alimentation from without would be of principal use ;
and so much the more, because the faculties of concoction
decay in old age; so that if there Gould be some auxiliary

420 - HISTORY OF

nutritions by bathing, unctions, or else by clysters, these
things in conjunction might do much, which single are less
available. :

CANON XXIV.

Where the concoction is weak to thrust forth the aliment,
there the outward parts should be strengthened to call forth
the aliment.

THE EXPLICATION.

That which is propounded in this canon, is not the same
thing with the former, for it is one thing for the outward
aliment to be attracted inward, another for the inward ali-
ment to be attracted outward; yet herein they concur, that
they both help the weakness of the or concoctions,
though by divers ways.

CANON XXV.

All sudden renovation of the body is wrought either by the
spirit, or by malacissations.

THE EXPLICATION.

There are two things in the body, spirits and parts; to
both these the way by nutrition is long and about ; but it
is a short way to the spirits by vapours, and by the affec-
tions, and to the parts by malacissations. But this is
diligently to be noted, that by no means we confound ali-
mentation from without with malacissation; for the inten-
tion of malacissation is not to nourish the parts, but only
to make them more fit to be nourished.

CANON XXVI.

Malacissation is wrought by consubstantials, by imprinters,
and by closers up.

THE EXPLICATION.

The reason is manifest, for that consubstantials do pro-
perly supple the body, imprinters do carry in, closers up do
retain and bridle the perspiration, which is a motion oppo-
site to malacissation. And therefore (as we described in
the ninth operation) malacissation cannot well be done at
once, but in a course or order. First, by excluding the
liquor by thickness ; for an outward and gross infusion doth
not well compact the body; that which entereth must be
subtile, and a kind of vapour. Secondly, by intenerating
by the consent of consubstantials: for bodies upon the touch
of those things which have good agreement with them, open
themselves, and relax their pores. Thirdly, imprinters are
convoys, and insinuate into the parts the consubstantials,
and the mixture of gentle astringents doth somewhat re-

LIFE AND DEATH. 421

strain the perspiration. But then, in the fourth place,
follows that great astriction and closure up of the body by
emplasteration, and then afterwards by inunction, until
the supple be turned into solid, as we said in the proper
place.
CANON XXVII.

Frequent renovation of the parts reparable, watereth and

reneweth the less reparable also.

THE EXPLICATION.

We said in the preface to this history, that the way of
death was this, that the parts reparable died in the fellow-
ship of the parts less reparable; so that in the reparation
of these same less reparable parts, all our forces would be
employed. And, therefore, being admonished by Aristotle’s
observation touching plants, namely, that the putting forth
of new shoots and branches refresheth the body of the tree
in the passage; we conceive the like reason might be, if
_ the flesh and blood in the body of man were often renewed,
that thereby the bones themselves, and: membranes, and
other parts, which in their own nature are less reparable,
partly by the cheerful passage of the juices, partly by that
new clothing of the young flesh and blood, might be
watered and renewed.

CANON XXVIII.

Refrigeration, or cooling of the body, which passeth some
other ways than by the stomach, is useful for long life.

THE EXPLICATION,

The reason is at hand; for seeing a refrigeration not
temperate, but powerful (especially of the blood), is above
all things necessary to long life; this can by no means be
effected from within as much as is requisite, without the
destruction of the stomach and bowels.

CANON XXIx.

That intermixing, or intangling, that as well consumption
as reparation are the works of heat, is the greatest obstacle
to long life.

THE EXPLICATION.

Almost all great works are destroyed by the natures of
things intermixed, when as that which helpeth in one
respect, hurteth in another; therefore men must proceed
herein by a sound judgment, and a discreet practice. For
our part, we have done so far as the matter will bear, and
our memory serveth us, by separating benign heats from
hurtful, and the remedies which tend to both.

422 HISTORY OF

‘CANON XXX.
Curing of diseases is effected by temporary medicines ;
but lengthening of life requireth observation of diets.

THE EXPLICATION,.

Those things which come by accident, as soon as the
causes are removed, cease again; but the continual course
of nature, like a running river, requires a continual rowing
and sailing against the stream, therefore we must work
regularly by diets. Now diets are of two kinds; set diets,
which are to be observed at certain times, and familiar
diet, which is to be admitted into our daily repast. But
the set diets are the more potent, that is, a course of medi-
cines for a time; for those things which are of so great
virtue that they are able to turn nature back again, are, for
the most part, more strong, and more speedily altering,
than those which may without danger be received into a

continual use. Nowin the remedies set down in our inten- .

tions, you shall find only three set diets, the opiate diet,
the diet malacissant or suppling, and the diet emaciant
and renewing. But amongst those which we prescribed for
familiar diet, and to be used daily, the most efficacious are
these that follow, which also come not far short of the
virtue of set diets. Nitre, and the subordinates to nitre ;
the regiment of the affections, and course of our life; refri-
gerators which pass not by the stomach; drinks roscidating,
or engendering oily juices ; besprinkling of the blood with
some firmer matter, as pearls, certain woods, competent
unctions to keep out the air and to keep in the spint.
Heaters from without, during the assimilation after sleep ;

avoiding of those things which inflame the spirit, and put:

it into an eager heat, as wine and spices. Lastly, a mode-
rate and seasonable use of those things which endue the
spirits with a robust heat, as saffron, crosses, garlick,
elecampane, and compound opiates.

CANON XXXI.
The living spirit is instantly extinguished, if it be de-
pried either of motion, or of refrigeration, or of aliment.
THE EXPLICATION.
Namely, these are those three which before we called the
porches of death, and they are the proper and immediate

passions of the spirit. For all the organs of the principal
parts serve hereunto, that these three offices be performed ;

Stipes keen

LIFE AND DEATH. 423

and again, all destruction of the organs which is deadly
brings the matter to this point, that one or more of these
three fail. Therefore all other things are the divers ways
to death, but they end in these three. Now the whole
fabric of the parts is the organ of the spirit, as the spirit is
the organ of the reasonable soul, which is incorporeous and
divine.
CANON XXXII.

Flame is a momentary substance, air a fixed; the living

spirit in creatures is of a middle nature.

THE EXPLICATION.

This matter stands in need both of a higher indagation,
and of a longer explication than is pertinent to the present
inquisition. Meanwhile we must know this, that flame is
almost every moment generated and extinguished ; so that
it is continued only by succession; but air is a fixed body,
and is not dissolved; for though air begets new air out of
watery moisture, yet notwithstanding the old air still re-
mains; whence cometh that superoneration of the air
whereof we have spoken in the title De Ventis. But spirit
is participant of both natures, both of flame and air, even
as the nourishments thereof are, as well oil, which is homo-
geneous to flame, as water, which is homogeneous to air;
for the spirit is not nourished either of oily alone, or of
watery alone, but of both together; and though air doth
not agree well with flame, nor oil with water, yet in a mixed
body they agree well enough. Also the spirit hath from the
air his easy and delicate impressions and yieldings, and from
the flame his noble and potent motions and activities. In
like manner the duration of spirit is a mixed thing, being
neither so momentary as that of flame, nor so fixed as that
of air. And so much the rather it followeth not the con-
dition of flame, for that flame itself is extinguished by acci-
dent, namely, by contraries, and enemies environing it; but
spirit is not subject to the like conditions and necessities,
Now the spirit is repaired from the lively and florid blood
of the small arteries which are inserted into the brain; but
this reparation is done by a peculiar manner, of which we
speak not now.

END OF THIRD PART OF THE INSTAURATIO. ©

THE FOURTH PART

OF THE GREAT INSTAURATION.

SCALING LADDER OF THE INTELLECT; OR, THREAD OF
THE LABYRINTH.

Ir would be difficult to find fault with those who affirm
that “ nothing is known,” if they had tempered the rigour
of their decision by a softening explanation. For should
any one contend, that science rightly interpreted is a know-
ledge of things through their causes, and that the know-
ledge of causes constantly expands, and by gradual and
successive concatenation rises, as it were, to the very lof-
tiest parts of nature, so that the knowledge of particular
existences cannot be properly possessed without an accurate
comprehension of the whole of things; it is not easy to
discover, what can reasonably be observed in reply. For
it is not reasonable to allege, that the true knowledge of
any thing is to be attained before the mind has a correct
conception of its causes: and to claim for human nature
such a correct conception universally, might justly be pro-
nounced perhaps not a little rash, or rather the proof of
an ill balanced mind. They, however, of whom we are
writing, shrink not from thus desecrating the oracles of
the senses, which must lead to a total recklessness. Nay,
to speak the truth, had they even spared their false accu-
sations, the very controversy itself appears to originate
in an unreasonable and contentious spirit ; since, indepen-
dently of that rigid truth to which they refer, there still
remains such a wide field for human exertion, that it would
be preposterous if not symptomatic of an unsettled and
disturbed intellect, in the anxious grasping at distant ex-
tremes, to overlook such utilities as are obvious and near at
hand. For however they may seek, by introducing their
distinction of true and probable, to subvert the certainty of
science without at the same time superseding the use or
practically affecting the pursuit of it, yet in destroying the

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SCALING LADDER OF THE INTELLECT. 425

hope of effectually investigating truth, they have cut the
very sinews of human industry, and by a promiscuous
license of disquisition converted what should have been the
labour of discovery into a mere exercise of talent and dis-
putation.

We cannot however deny, that if there be any fellowship
between the ancients and ourselves, it is principally as con-
nected with this species of philosophy: as we concur in
many things which they have judiciously observed and
stated about the varying nature of the senses, the weakness
of human judgment, and the propriety of withholding or
suspending assent; to which we might add innumerable
other remarks of a similar tendency. So that the only dif-
ference between them and ourselves is—that they affirm
“nothing can be perfectly known by any method whatever ;”
we, that “ nothing can be perfectly known by the methods
which mankind have hitherto pursued.” Of this fellowship
we are not at all ashamed. For the aggregate, if it consists
not of those alone who lay down the abovementioned dogma
as their peremptory and unchangeable opinion, but of such
also as indirectly maintain it under the forms of objection
and interrogatory, or by their indignant complaints about
the obscurity of things, confess and, as it were, proclaim it
aloud, or suffer it only to transpire from their secret thoughts
in occasional and ambiguous whispers—the aggregate, I
say, comprises, you will find, the far most illustrious and
profound of the ancient thinkers, with whom no modern
need blush to be associated ; a few of them may, perhaps,
too magisterially have assumed to decide the matter, yet
this tone of authority prevailed only during the late dark
ages, and now maintains its ground simply through a spirit
of party, the inveteracy of habit, or mere carelessness and
neglect.

Yet in the fellowship here spoken of, it is easy to discover
that, agreeing as we do with the great men alluded to, as
to the premises of our opinions, in our conclusions we difter
from them most widely. Our discrepancies may indeed,
at first sight, appear to be but inconsiderable ; they asserting
the absolute, and we the modified incompetency of the
human intellect; but the practical result is this—that as
they neither point out, nor in fact profess to expect any
remedy for the defect in question, they wholly give up the
business ; and thus, by denying the certainty of the senses,
pluck up science from its very foundation ; whereas we, by
the introduction of a new method, endeavour to regulate

426 SCALING LADDER

and correct the aberrations both of the senses and of the
intellect. The consequence is that they, thinking the die
finally cast, turn aside to the uncontrolled and fascinating
ramblings of genius ; while we, by our different view of the
subject, are constrained to enter upon an arduous and.dis-
tant province, which we unceasingly pray we may admi-
nister to the advantage and the happiness of mankind.
The introductory part of our progress we described in our
second book, which, having entered, in the third we treated
on the phenomena of the Universe, and on history, plunging
into and traversing the woodlands, as it were, of nature,
here overshadowed (as by foliage) with the infinite variety
of experiments ; there perplexed and entangled (as by thorns
and briars) with the subtilty of acute commentations.

And now, perhaps, by our advance from the woods to
the foot of the mountains, we have reached a more disen-
gaged, but yet a more arduous station. For from history
we shall proceed by a ‘firm and sure track, new indeed and
hitherto unexplored, to universals. To these paths of con-
templation, in truth, might appositely be applied the cele-
brated and often quoted illustration of the “ double road of
active life,’ of which one branch, at first even and level,
conducted the traveller to places precipitous and impassable;
the other, though steep and rough at the entrance, termi-
nated in perfect smoothness. In a similar manner, he who,
in the very outset of his inquiries lays firm hold of certain
fixed principles in the science, and with immoveable reliance
upon them disentangles (as he will with little effort) what
he handles, if he advances steadily onward, not flinching
out of excess either of self-confidence or of self-distrust

from the object of his pursuit, will find he is journeying ©

in the first of these two tracks; and if he can endure to

suspend his judgment, and to mount gradually, and to
climb by regular succession the height of things, like so _

many tops of mountains, with persevering and indefatigable
patience, he will in due time attain the very uppermost
elevations of nature, where his station will be serene, his
prospects delightful, and his descent to all the practical
arts by a gentle slope, perfectly easy. .

It is therefore our purpose, as in the second book we laid
down the precepts of genuine and legitimate disquisition,
so in this to propound and establish, with reference to the
variety of subjects, illustrative examples ; and that in the
form which we think most agreeable to truth, and regard
as approved and authorized. Yet we do not alter the cus-

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OF THE INTELLECT. 427

tomary fashion, as well to all the constituent parts of this
formula on absolute necessity, as if they were universally
indispensable and inviolable: for we do not hold, that the
industry and the happiness of man are to be indissolubly
bound, as it were, toa single pillar. Nothing, indeed, need
prevent those who possess greater leisure, or have sur-
mounted the difficulties infallibly encountered in the begin-
ning of the experiment, from carrying onward the process
here pointed out. On the contrary, it is our firm conviction
that true art is always capable of advancing.

| Rear Be

THE FIFTH PART
OF THE GREAT INSTAURATION.

PRECURSORS; OR, ANTICIPATIONS OF THE SECOND
PHILOSOPHY.

THAT person, in our judgment, showed at once both his
patriotism and his discretion, who when he was asked,
“ whether he had given to his fellow citizens the best code
of laws,” replied, “ the best which they could bear.” And
certainly those who are not satisfied with merely thinking
rightly (which is little better indeed than dreaming rightly,
if they do not labour to realize and effectuate the object of
their meditations) will pursue not what may be abstractedly
the best, but the best of such things as appear most likely
to be approved. We, however, do not feel ourselves privi-
ledged, notwithstanding our great affection for the human
commonwealth, our common country, to adopt this legis-
latorial principle of selection: for we have no authority
arbitrarily to prescribe laws to man’s intellect, or the gene-
ral nature of things. It is our office, as faithful secretaries,
to receive and note down such as have been enacted by the
voice of nature herself; and our trustiness must stand ac-
quitted, whether they are accepted, or by the suffrage of
general opinion rejected. Still we do not abandon the hope,
that, in times yet to come, individuals may arise who will
both be able to comprehend and digest the choicest of those
things, and solicitous also to carry them to perfection; and,
with this confidence, we will never by God’s help desist
(so long as we live) from directing our attention thither-
ward, and opening their fountains and uses, and investi-
gating the lines of the roads leading to them.

Yet, anxious as we are with respect to subjects of general
interest and common concern, in aspiring to the greater, we
do not condemn the inferior, for those are frequently at a
distance, while these are at hand and around us, nor though
we offer (as we think) more valuable things, do we there-
fore put our veto upon things received and ancient, or seek

PREFACE. 429

to cover their estimation with the multitude. On the con-
trary, we earnestly wish them to be amplified, and improved,
and held in increased regard ; as it is no part of our ambi-
tion to withdraw men either all, or altogether, or all at once
from what is established and current. But as an arrow or
other missile, while carried directly onward, still neverthe-
less during its progress incessantly whirls about in rapid
rotation; so we, while hurrying forward to more distant
objects, are carried round and round by these popular and
prevalent opinions. And, therefore, we do not hesitate to
avail ourselves of the fair services of this common reason
and these popular proofs; and shall place whatever con-
clusions have been discovered or decided through their
medium (which may, indeed, have much of truth and utility
in them) on an equal footing with the rest; at the same
time protesting against any inferences thence to be drawn
in derogation of what we have above stated about the in-
competency of both this reason and of these proofs. We
have rather, in fact, thrown out the preceding hints as it
were occasionally for the sake of such as, feeling their pro-
gress impeded by an actual want either of talent or of
leisure, wish to confine themselves within the ancient tracts
and precincts of science, or at least not to venture beyond
their immediately contiguous domains; since we conceive
that the same speculations may (like tents or resting places
on the way) minister ease and rest to such as, in pursuance
of our plan, seek the true interpretation of nature; and find
it; and may, at the samme time, in some slight degree, pro-
mote the welfare of man, and infuse into his mind ideas
somewhat more closely connected with the true nature of
things. This result, however, we are far from anticipating
in confidence of any faculty which we ourselves possess,
but we entertain no doubt that any one even of moderate
abilities, yet ripened mind, who is both willing and able to
lay aside his idols, and to institute his inquiries anew, and
to investigate with attention, perseverance, and freedom
from prejudice, the truths and computations of natural
history, will of himself, by his genuine and native powers,.
and by his own simple anticipations penetrate more pro-
foundly into nature than he would be capable of doing by
the most extensive course of reading, by indefinite abstract
speculations, or by continual and repeated disputations ;
though he may not have brought the ordinary engines
into action, or haye adopted the prescribed formula of in-
terpretation.

430 PREFACE.

In this, however, we do not wish to be considered as
demanding for our own dogma the authority which we have
withheld from those of the ancients. We would rather
indeed testify and proclaim, that we are far from wishing
to be ourselves peremptorily bound by what we are about
to bring forward, of whatever character it may be, to the
maintenance of the whole of our secondary and inductive
philosophy. The result of our meditations we have deter-
mined to offer loosely, and unconfined by the circumscrip-
tion of method ; deeming this a form both better adapted
to sciences newly springing up as from an old stock, and
more suitable to a writer whose present object it is not to
constitute an art from combined, but to institute a free in-
vestigation of individual existences.

a .

END OF THE INSTAURATIO.

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POSTHUMOUS TRACTS.

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THOUGHTS ON THE NATURE OF THINGS.

Of the Division of Bodies, of Continuity, and a Vacuum.

THOUGHT I.

Tue theory of Democritus relating to atoms is, if not true,
at least applicable with excellent effect to the exposition of
nature. For it is not easy, except on the hypothesis of
atomic particles, either to grasp in thought, or express in
words, the real exility of parts in nature, such as it is dis-
coverable in objects shiteisdwon.

Now the term atom is taken in two senses, not materially
different from one another. It is taken either to signify
the ultimate term, the minutest subdivision, in the section
or breaking down of bodies ; or a corpuscle containing in it
no vacuum. As relates to the first, the two following prin-
ciples may be safely and surely laid down. The first is,
that there exists in objects an attenuation and minuteness
of particles, far exceeding all that falls under ocular obser-
vation. The second is, that it is not carried to infinity, or
endless divisibility. For if one heedfully attend, he will
find that the corpuscles composing bodies which possess
continuity, far transcend in subtilty those which are found
in broken and discontinuous ones. Thus we see a little
saffron, intermixed and stirred in water (a cask of water
for instance), impart to it such a tincture, that even by the
the eye it is easily distinguishable from pure water. The
particles of the saffron thus disseminated through the
water, certainly exceed in fineness the most impalpable
powder. This will become still clearer, if you mingle with
the water a small portion of Brazilian-wood ground to a
powder, or of pomegranate flowers, or of any other very
high coloured substance, yet which wants the susceptibi-
lity of saffron to diffuse itself in liquids, and incorporate
with them.

It was therefore absurd to take atoms to be those minute
particles which are visible by the aid of the sun’s light.

432 THOUGHTS ON THE

For these are of the nature of a powder, but an atom, as
Democritus said himself, no one either has seen or can pos-
sibly see. But this dispersion of substance presents itself
in a still more surprising light in odours. For if a little
saffron can tinge and impregnate a whole cask of water, a
little civet does so to a spacious chamber, and to a second,
and a third successively. And let none imagine that odours
can be propagated like light, or heat and cold, without a
stream of efHuvia from the substance, since we may observe
that odours are tenacious of solids, of woods, of metallic
substances, and for no inconsiderable time, and that they
can be extracted and cleansed away from these, by the
process of rubbing and washing. But that in these and
similar cases, the subtilization is not carried to infinity, no
man in his senses will dispute, since this sort of radiation
or diffusion is confined to certain spaces, and local boun-
daries, and to certain quantities of substance, as is very
conspicuous in the abovementioned instances.

As relates to atom in its second sense, which presupposes
the existence of a vacuum, and builds its definition of atom
on the absence of the vacuum; it was an excellent and
valuable distinction which Hero so carefully drew, when he
denied the existence of a vacuum coacervatum (or fully
formed), and affirmed a vacuum commistum (or interstitial
vacuum). For when he saw that there was one unbroken
chain of bodies, and that no point of space would be disco-
vered or instanced, which was not replenished with body;
and much more, when he perceived that bodies weighty and
massive tended upwards, and as it were repudiated and
violated their natures rather than suffer complete disruption
from the contiguous body; he came to the full determina-
tion that nature abhorred a vacuum of the larger descrip-
tion, or a vacuum coacervatum. On the other hand, when
he observed the same quantity of matter composing a body
in a state of contraction and coarctation, and again in one
of expansion and dilatation, occupying and filling unequal
spaces, sometimes smaller, sometimes greater, he did not see
in what manner this going out and in of corpuscles, in
reference to their position in that body, could exist, except
in consequence of an interspersed vacuum, contracting on
the compression, and enlarging on the relaxation, of the
body. For it was clear that this contraction of necessity
was produced in one of three ways; either in that which
we have specified, namely, the expulsion of a vacuum by
means of pressure, or the extrusion of some other body

NATURE OF THINGS. 433

previously incorporated, or the possession by bodies of some
natural virtue (whatever it might be) of concentration and
ditfusion within themselves. As relates to the extrusion
of the rarer body, it is a mode of reasoning that involves us
in an endless series of such expulsions. For true it is, that
sponges and the like porous substances, contract by the
ejection of the air. But with respect to air itself, it is clear
from manifold experiments that it can be condensed in a
known space. Are we then to suppose that the finer part
of air itself may be thus eliminated by compressure, and of
the eliminated part another part, and so on to infinity? For
it is a fact most decidedly adverse to such an opinion that
the rarer bodies are they are susceptible of the more con-
traction ; when the contrary ought to be the fact, if con-
traction was performed by expressing the rarer portion of
the substance. As to that other mode of solution, namely,
that the same bodies without farther alteration undergo
various degrees of rarity and density, it is not worthy of
elaborate attention. It seems to be an arbitrary dictum,
depending on no cognizable reason, or intelligible principle,
like the generality of the dogmas of Aristotle. There remains
then the third way, the hypothesis of a vacuum. Should
any one object to this, that it appears a difficult and even im-
possible supposition, that there should exist an interspersed
vacuity, where body is every where found ; if he will only
reflect calmly and maturely on the instances we have just
adduced, of water imbued with saffron, or air with odours,
he will readily discover that no portion of the water can be
pointed out where there is not the saffron, and yet it is
manifest by comparing the saffron and the water previous
to their intermixture, that the bulk of the water exceeds by
many times the bulk of the saffron. Now if so subtile an
interspersion is found to take place in different bodies,
much more is such interspersion possible in the case of a
body and a vacuum.

Yet the theory of Hero,a mere experimentalist, fell short
of that of the illustrious philosopher Democritus in this
particular point, namely, that Hero not finding in this our
globe, a vacuum coacervatum, denied it therefore absolutely.
Now there is nothing to hinder the existence of a complete
vacuity in the tracts of air, where there are undoubtedly
greater diffusions of substances.

And let me give this once the admonition, that, in these
and similar investigations, none be overpowered or des-
pair, because of the surpassing subtilty of nature. Let

VOL. XIV. FF

434 THOUGHTS ON THE

him reflect that things in their units and their aggregates,
are equally mastered by calculation. For one expresses or
conceives with the same facility a thousand years and a
thousand moments, though years are composed of multi-
tudes of moments. And again, let no one think, that such
studies are matter of speculative curiosity, rather than
connected with practical effects and uses. For it is obser-
vable that almost all the philosophers and others, who have
‘most intensely busied themselves, who have probed nature
to the quick as it were, in the process of experiment and
practical detail; have been led on to such investigations,
though unfortunate in the mode of conducting them. Nor
does there exist a more powerful and more certain cause of
that utter barrenness of utility which distinguishes the phi-
losophy of the day, than its ambitious affectation of sub-
tilty about mere words or vulgar notions, while it has
neither pursued nor planned a well supported investigation
of the subtilty of nature. |

Of the equality or inequality of Atoms, or seminal Particles.

II.

The theories and maxims of Pythagoras were for the
most part better adapted to found a peculiar order of reli-
gionists, than to open a new school in philosophy, as was
verified by the event. For that system of training pre-
vailed and flourished more under the sway of the Mani-
chean heresy and Mahomedan superstition, than among
philosophic individuals. Notwithstanding this, his opinion
that the world was composed of numbers, may be taken in
a sense in which it goes deep into the elementary principles
of nature. For there are (as indeed there may be) two
doctrines with respect to atoms or seminal particles; the
one that of Democritus, which ascribes to atoms inequality
one to another, figure, and in virtue of figure position ; the
other that of Pythagoras perhaps, which affirms them to
be all precisely equal and alike. Now he who ascribes to
atoms equality, necessarily makes all things depend on
numbers; while he who clothes them with other attributes,
admits in addition to mere numbers, or modes of assemblage,
certain primitive properties inherent in single atoms. Now
the practical question collateral to the theoretical one, and
which ought to determine its limits, is this, which Demo-
critus proposes; whether all things can be made out of all?
To me, however, this question appears not to have been ma-
turely weighed, if it be understood as referring to an imme-

NATURE OF THINGS. 435

diate transmutation of bodies. It is whether all things do
not pass through an appointed circuit and succession of
transformations, that is the legitimate subject of inquiry.
For there is not a doubt that the elementary particles,
though they were originally equal, become, after having
been cast into certain assemblages and knots, entirely im-
pregnated with the nature of the dissimilar bodies they
compose, till the several assemblages or knots of matter
undergo solution ; so that the properties and affections of
things in concretion, offer no less resistance and impedi-
ment to immediate transmutation, than of things in their
simplest elements. But Democritus, acute as Re is in
tracing the principles of quiescent body, is found unequal
to himself, and deficient in knowledge of his subject, when
he comes to examine the principles of motion; a common
failing of all the philosophers. And I know not but the
investigation we are now handling, of the primary charac-
ter of seminal and atomic particles is of a utility greatly
superior to all others whatsoever, as forming the sovereign
rule of action and of power, and the true criterion of hope
and operation. Another inquiry also proceeds from it, less
comprehensively useful indeed, in its scope, but more im-
mediately connected with practice and useful works. It is
respecting separation and alteration, that is, what opera-
tions are the effect of separation, and what of the other
process. For it is an error habitual to the human mind,
and which has derived great force and depth from the phi-
losophy of the alchymists, to ascribe those appearances to
separation which look quite the other way. For instance,
when water passes into the state of vapour, one would
readily suppose that the more subtile part of the fluid was
extricated, and the grosser remained, as is seen in wood,
where part flies off in flame and smoke, part is left in the
form of ashes. One might infer that something analogous
to this takes place in the water also, though not so dis-
cernible to observation. For though the whole mass of
water is observed to bubble up and waste away, yet it
might occur, that a sort of sediment of it, its ashes as it
were, still remained in the vessel. Yet such an impression
is delusive ; for it is most certain, that the entire body of
water may be converted into air, and if any portion still
continues in the vessel, that does not happen in conse-
quence of its separation and segregation as the grosser part,
but because a certain quantity of the fluid, though of pre-
cisely the same substance with the part which evaporates,
remains in contact with the interiial surface of the vessel.

436 THOUGHTS ON THE

The same thing is distinctly visible in the case of quick-
silver, the whole of which is volatilized and then con-
densed again without the substraction of the smallest
particle. In the oil of lamps too, and in the tallow of can-
dles, the whole of the fat is sublimated, and there is no
incineration, for the fuliginous matter is formed not before
but after the ignition, and is, so to speak, the corpse of the
flame, not a deposition of the oil or tallow.

And this lays open one way to overturn the theory of
Democritus, with respect to the diversity of seminal par-
ticles or atoms ; a way, I say, in the process of investigating
nature herself: in opinion indeed there is another way-to
overturn it, much more smooth and easy, as the received
philosophy assumes its phantasmal matter, to be common
to the forms of nature, and equally susceptible of them all.

Of the Remissness of the Ancients in investigating Motion,
and moving Principles.

Ill.

To place the investigation of nature chiefly in the con-
sideration and examination of motion, is the characteristic
of him who has an eye to practical effect as his object.
And to indulge in meditation and reverie, respecting the
principles of nature viewed as quiescent, belongs to such as
desire to spin out dissertations, or supply matter of argu-
mentative subtlety. Now those principles I call quiescent,
which inform us of what elements things are compounded,
and consist; but not by what energy or in what way they
effect these coalitions. For it is not enough, with a view
to action and the enlargement of the power and operation
of man, nor does it in fact bear materially on these ends at
all, to know what are the constituent parts of things, if you
are ignorant of the modes and processes of their transforma-
tions and metamorphoses. For to take an example from
the mechanical adepts (in whose heated imagination
those famous speculations regarding the first principles of
nature appear to have had their origin), is the man who
knows the simples that enter into the composition of an
alexipharmic (or antidote), necessary able in consequence,
to prepare an alexipharmic? Or is he who has got a cor-
rect analysis of the ingredients of Pueat> glass, or canvass,
to be therefore supposed a master of the art of their pre-
paration and manufacture? Yet it is in speculating and
inquiring with respect to this description of dead princi-

ples, that the meditations of men have been hitherto prin-

es ee

Pi Oe eS ae eee, ee

ee et ee ee

NATURE OF THINGS. 437

cipally absorbed: as if one were of set purpose and reso-
lution, to employ himself in poring over the dissection of
the dead carcass of nature, rather than to set himself to
ascertain the powers and properties of living nature. In-
deed the examination of the principles of motion is gene-
rally looked upon as a matter by the way, so that it passes
admiration in what a perfunctory and remiss manner, a
subject of all others the most momentous and most useful,
has been investigated and treated. For to turn our atten-
tion for a moment to the themes which are actually dis-
coursed of ;—will the impulse communicated to matter by
privation, the formation of matter on mind (or archetypal
ideas), the coalition of like particles, the fortuitous play
of atoms in vacancy, the enmity and friendship supposed to
exist in substances, the mutual action of heaven and earth
on one another, the commerce of the elements by the inter-
mediation of consenting properties, the influence of the
celestial bodies, occult and specific medicinal powers and
properties of drugs, fate, fortune, necessity; will, I say,
such vague generalities as these, which are nothing but
phantasms and spectral illusions floating about and playing
on the surface of things, as in water, really advance the
blessings, or effectually augment the powers of man. They
indeed occupy or rather inflate the imagination, but con-
tribute absolutely nothing to establish new methods of
working nature, to the power of altering her forms, or com-
manding her motions. And again, all their attempts to
reason and subtilize regarding motion, natural and violent,
motion self-determined or impressed exteriorly, the limita-
tions of motion, these too do not enter to any depth the
trunk of nature, but show rather like figures inscribed in
the bark. Wherefore dismissing such speculations, or con-
demning them to exile among the theatres of popular dis-
play, we must make it our business to trace those affections
and tendencies of things, by which that surprising multi-
plicity of effects and of changes, visible alike in the works
of art and of nature, grows up and emerges into view.
We must thus endeavour to bind nature as a Proteus; for
the various species of motions, duly discovered and metho-
dically discriminated, may be regarded as the true bonds
to tie this Proteus withal. For according as the just im-
pulses and restraints of motion, that is, of matter stimulated
to activity or restrained in it, are invented and applied,
there follows the capacity of modifying and transmuting
matter itself.

438 THOUGHTS ON THE

Of the common Division of Motion, that it is equally deficient
in point of Utility and of Discrimination.

IV.

The division of motion in the philosophy in vogue appears
to be superficial and without foundation, as it forms its
distribution of it only by its effects, and does not at all
conduce to our knowledge of it by its causes. For genera-
tion, corruption, increase, diminution, alteration, removal
to place, are only the operations and effects of motions,
which having attained to the production of a visible trans-
mutation of things, palpable to vulgar observation, are
(in the inertness of common apprehension) distinguished
by these appellations. We have no doubt that the mean-
ing of the terms stands thus:—that when bodies in the
progression of their motion (of whatever character the mo-
tion be) have reached that point at which they assume a
new form, or lay aside the old, (forming a sort of full break,
and the completion of a regular stage of that motion), this

is termed the motion of generation and corruption. Again, —

if the configuration remaining the same, they acquire only
a new quantity or measure of dimension, this is called the
motion of increase and diminution; so also, if the mass and
the outline of the object remain unaltered, yet its quality,
operations, and properties, undergo change, this is said to
be the motion of alteration; lastly, if the body continue
unmodified in figure matter and quantity, but change its
place, and that only, this is indicated by the words motion
of removal. But to him who looks into this matter with
something more of penetration and accuracy, these phrases
will appear to represent only points in the measurement of
motion, pauses and breaks in it, or, as it were, the succes-
sive courses motions have to run, and tasks they have to
perform, but to convey no real distinctions; as they only
point to that which has been done, but scarcely even hint
at the mode of doing it. Words of this description are
required for the purpose of giving information, and adjusted
to the forms of the scholastic logic, but they are utterly
unproductive of physical knowledge. For they all signify
motions combined, recombined, and in manifold ways still
further combined ; whereas men of more acute meditation
ought to penetrate to simpler principles. For the prin-
ciples, the sources, the causes, and the modes of motion,
that is, the tendencies and appetencies of every form of
matter, are the proper field of philosophy; and so in their

Tete To ee

rh 7h
Soa re tam irae deere triad Sle ae ae

NATURE OF THINGS. - 489

order the modes of communicating and stimulating motion, °
its restraints, retardations, lines, impediments, its reactions
and combinations, its indirect paths and concatenations, in
short the entire progression of motions. For of little avail
are windy disputations, or specious discourses, or vague
meditations, or, lastly, plausible maxims. The business is,
by well digested methods, and a management adapted to
nature, to acquire a capacity to control, to intensify, to remit,
to combine with other motions, to let gently down, to bring
to a pause the motion of every portion of susceptible mat-
ter, and so to accomplish the conservation, the modification,
and the transformation of bodies. We must, however,
direct our inquiries principally to those motions which are
uncompounded, original, ultimate, of which the rest are
constituted, For it is most unquestionable, that in pro-
portion as simpler motions are discovered, in the same pro-
portion will the power of man be augmented, delivered from
the trammel of using only specific and elaborated sub-
stances, and invigorated to strike out new lines of operation.
And, assuredly, since the words or vocables of all lan-
guages, in all their prodigious variety, are compounded of
a few simple characters, so, in like manner, are the agencies
and powers of the universe composed of a few primary pro-
perties or original springs of motion. And disgraceful
would it be to mankind, to have studied with such perti-
nacious exactness the tinkle of their own utterance; but to
have been in the tongue of nature unlearned, and like the
barbarians of primeval times, before letters were invented,
distinguishing only the compounded sound or expression,
but incapable of analysing it into elementary tones and
characters.

Of a fixed Sum of Matter, and that Change takes place
without Annihilation of Substance.
Ve

That all things change, that nothing really perishes, and
the mass of matter remains absolutely the same, is suffi-
ciently evident. And as the divine omnipotence was re-
quired to create any thing out of nothing, so also is that
omnipotence to make any thing lapse into nothing. Whether
that would take place, by a withdrawing of the preserving
energy, or by the act of annihilation, is of no importance ;
this much is necessary, the interposition of a decree of the
Creator. Having laid down this as an aphorism, we would,
in order to fix the wandering of the mind, and prevent the

440 THOUGHTS ON THE

supposition that we mean some invented matter of the
schools, intimate thus much in further explanation ;
namely, that the matter here introduced by us, is such, and
with such attributes invested, that it may be truly affirmed
of it, that more of that matter is present in one body, and
less (though they occupy the same dimensions) in another.
For instance, there is more of it in lead, less in water,
Bren less still in air, and that not in a vague sense, or a

ubious and unsatisfactory manner, but specifically, so as
to be matter of exact computation, as that there is twice as
much of it in this body, thrice as much in that, and so on.
If any one were to say, then, that air could be made out of
water, or water, again, out of air, I should listen to him;
but should he say, that a likegquantity of water could be
made into a like quantity of air, I should not listen. For
that would be equivalent to saying that something could be
made into nothing. In like manner, conversely, if he were
to say that a determinate quantity of air (that, for example,
contained in a vessel: of a given measure) could be con-
verted into a like quantity of water, it would be the same
as saying that something can be made out of nothing.
From these principles, three rules or practical directions
seem to me deducible, in order that men may with greater
skill, and, in consequence of skill, with greater success,
conduct their trade with nature. The first is in this wise,
that men ought often to control nature by a counter-reckon-
ing, in giving in her account; that is, that when they see
some body, which had previously been full in the eye of
sense, make its escape and vanish, they should not at once,
as it were, authenticate and clear off the account of nature,
till a correct voucher has been given to them, whither such
body has transferred itself, and in what it has found a re-
cipient. This, as matters now go, is most carelessly done,
and contemplation in general stops with appearances ; thus
men are ignorant of the recipient of flame, the most common
of substances ; for it is a perfect fallacy to suppose that it
is converted into the substance of the air. The second is
thus; that while men regard the property inherent in matter
of being self-sustained, and not dropping into annihilation
or dissolution, as an adamantine necessity of nature, they
ought to permit no method to escape them of torturing and
agitating matter, if they would detect and drag to light its
ultimate workings and obstinately preserved secrets. Now
this may seem to be, what I at once admit that it is, an
admonition which it requires little sagacity to give :—yet it
seems to contain in it something of real use; it is not a

Pe. A Fe ig ve é 7 i Adm | is Rah is a eee OF az
eA cag Re OR eM Oey EP Med Oe rere ety

ateign

OS eae cn Ware pte I em
ap Rees Maa Or” ae yf

NATURE OF THINGS. 441

counsel that has nothing in it. Let us now, however, add
to this subject, if you please, a sprinkling of actual obser-
vation. Thus, then, the greatest difficulty man encounters
in operation or experiment is, that it is scarcely possible to
- keep together, act upon, and master the refractory properties
of a given quantity of matter, without such substance un-
dergoing diminution or augmentation ; but a separation of
the parts taking place, the effort of experiment is rendered,
in the last resort, abortive. Now separation interposes
thus in two ways; either so that a part of the matter flies
off as in extraction, or at least that a segregation of parts
takes place as in cream. The intention, therefore, of a
complete and thorough change of bodies is no other than
to vex matter by every well digested method of scrutiny ;
always, however, with due prevention of these two kinds of
separation, during the period of such process. For then,
and not till then, is matter truly delivered up bound into
our hands, when every avenue of escape has been closed
up. The third direction is this, that when men behold
alterations take place in the same section of matter, without
its being either increased or diminished, they should first
free their imagination from the deeply-rooted error, that
alteration is effected by separation alone; and should then
_ begin painfully and carefully to discriminate the various
forms of alteration, when they ought to be placed to the ac-
count of separation, when to that of disorganization only,
and a different collocation of the same parts, without other
separation; when to that of both together. For I do not
believe, that when we shuffle hard, throw about, and melio-
rate in our hands a harsh and untimely pear, by which it
acquires sweetness, or when amber or a diamond reduced
to an extremely fine dust, are divested of colour, that there
is any perceptible fraction of the substance of either lost,
but only that their component parts are arranged differently
as to place.

It remains that we try to eradicate from the minds of men
an error of which the influence is such, that if credit con-
tinues to be attached to it, several of the investigations we
have mentioned must be given up in despair as impracti-
cable. For it is the common persuasion, that the ethers
(or spirits) of substances, when they have been brought to
an extreme degree of exility by heat, evaporate even in the
most solid vessels (such as silver or glass retorts), through
certain imperceptible pores and crevices. This is not true.
For neither air, nor such ethers, not even flame itself,
volatilize so perfectly, as to become capable of seeking or

442 THOUGHTS ON THE

finding emission through such orifices. But as an exceed-
ing small aperture does not permit the escape of water,
so neither do such pores the passage of air. For as air
is a fluid rarer by far than water, so such pores are pro-
portionally much more minute than visible apertures. Nor
would suffocation in a covered vessel be inevitable, if such
exudations either existed, or were competent to produce
their supposed effect. And the instance they adduce is
pitiful, or rather a fit subject for pity, as are most of the
speculations of the common philosophy, when they are
brought down to details. They say, that if ignited paper
be put in a cup, and the mouth of the cup inverted on a
vessel of water, the water is then drawn upwards; their
reason is, that after the flame, and the air subtilized by the
flame, occupying as they had done a certain portion of the
interior space, had passed out through the pores of the
vessel, it remains that some other body should succeed to
their place. The same, they say, is the case in cupping
glasses, which raise the flesh. And with respect to the
water and the flesh succeeding another body which is dis-
placed, their notion is a just one enough, but of the cause
which produces that effect, a most ignorant one. For there
is no emission, creating vacant space, but only the contrac-
tion of that body. For the body into which the flame has
passed now occupies much less space than before the flame
had been extinguished. It is thus that a vacuum is formed,
desiderating the succession of something else. And this is
perfectly clear in the instance of cupping glasses. For
when they wish them to act more powerfully on the flesh,
they apply to them sponges filled with cold water, that the
cold may condense the imprisoned air, and make it gather
itself up into smaller space.

Thus do we extricate men from the anxiety and the dis-
piriting impression engendered by the ease with which
such finer spirits effect their liberation; since the very
spirits which they are chiefly desirous to confine, odours,
savours, and the like, do not really exhale from their prisons,
but are lost within them.

Of seeming Quiescence, of Consistency, and of Fluidity.
VI.

That certain bodies appear quiescent and void of motion,
is a just impression in reference to their wholes or aggre-
gates, but as respects their parts, it misleads men’s opinion.

hye iS Ps he Boat 5 a oan ene ee

ee, Se ee

NATURE OF THINGS. 443

For simple and absolute immobility, either in the parts or
the totality of bodies, there is none ; but what is so regarded,
is the effect of the obstacles, restraints, and balances with
one another, subsisting among motions. For instance, when
in the vessels perforated at the bottom, which we use in
watering gardens, the water does not find vent through the
holes, if the mouth of the vessel be closed, it is evident
that this is occasioned by the resilient motion, not the qui-
escent property of the water. For the water desires to
fall, precisely as much as if it were performing the act of
descent; but as there is not a body to fill up the vacuity
formed at the top of the vessel, the water at the bottom is
drawn back, and with considerable force, by the water at
the top. Thus, in wrestling, if a man grasp another weaker
than himself in such a way that he is unable to move, and
yet continues to strain his utmost, the motion of renitency
is not made less because it 1s mastered and tied by the
stronger motion. :

Now the observation we make on false quiescence is
useful to be known in numberless cases, and affords no
little light in the inquiry into the nature of solid and liquid
bodies, or of consistency and fluidity. For solids seem to
remain at rest in their positions, but liquids subject to agi-
tation and interfusion of parts. Thus a column, or any
other figured body of water, cannot be raised as one of
wood or stone. It is therefore hastily supposed that the
upper parts of the water tend (in their natural motion, as it
is termed) to flow downwards, but the corresponding parts
of the wood not. But this is not true; since in the parts
of the wood forming its top, there exists the same tendenc
to motion downwards as in water; and it would be brought
into act, were it not fettered and drawn the other way by
a superior motion. Now the appetite of continuity or horror
of separation, which is in itself no less incident to water
than to wood, is in the wood stronger than the motion of
gravity, in water weaker. For that liquids also partake of
this motion is manifest. Thus we see in a succession of
waterdrops, how, to prevent a solution of continuity, the
water draws itself out and tapers to a thin filament, so long
as the fluid which succeeds supplies the means; but should
water be wanting to maintain the continuity, it then gathers
itself into globules, the diameter of which is considerably
greater than the filament previously formed. In the same
way we see that the water with difficulty admits of being
broken into more minute particles, since it does not without

444 THOUGHTS ON THE

having been shaken, exude by its natural gravity through
apertures and crevices if they be somewhat minute. It is
evident then that there is a tendency to continuity in fluids
also, but weak. On the contrary, however, it is strong in
solids, and predominates over the natural motion, or that
of gravity. For if any one conceives that in a pillar of
wood or stone, the upper parts do not throughout affect
descent, but rather to maintain themselves in entirely the
same position, he will easily set himself right, by consider-
ing that a column or similar structure, if the altitude is
disproportioned to the base, or exceeds the due relation to
it, cannot stand, but is precipitated by its own gravity.
So that in very elevated piles of building it is necessary to
make them incline to the pyramidal form, and narrow to
anapex. What that principle in nature is, however, which
determines the intensity or weakness of the affection of
continuity, will not easily occur to the inquirer. It might
perhaps be suggested that the parts of solids are more con-
centrated and compact, those of liquids more lax, or that
in liquids there was an ether, the principle of fluidity, which
was wanting in solids and the like. But neither of these
explanations is reconcileable to truth; for it is apparent
that snow and wax, which can be divided, cast into form,
and receive the impression of other bodies, are a much
rarer substance than melted quicksilver or lead; as is
proved by a comparison of their weight. But if any one
still insists that it is possible that snow or wax, though (as
a whole) less gross than quicksilver, may nevertheless have
its parts disposed more closely and compactly, yet that as
it is a porous body, containing many cavities and much
air, it is therefore rendered lighter as a whole: as is the
case of pumicestone, which, though in comparing the size
of both, it be perhaps lighter than wood, nevertheless if
both be ground to a dust, the dust of the pumicestone will
outweigh that of the wood, because the porosity of the
former no longer continues: these are well observed and
well objected facts. But what shall be said of melted
snow or wax, where the same interstices are now filled up:
or what of gum mastick and the like substances, which
have no perceptible cavities of the kind, and are yet lighter
than several liquids? As to the allegation of an ether by
the virtue and impulse of which things are put into the
state of being fluid, that, no doubt, is at the first glance
probable, and falls in kindly with the common notions: but
in the experience of actual nature, it is much more hard to

NATURE OF THINGS. 445

admit, and inaccurate, being not merely unsupported by
sound reason, but almost repugnant to it. For that ether

‘of which they speak, has for its proper effect (surprising as

the saying may appear), consistency not fluidity. This is
also very well seen in the instance of snow, where, though
the substance be a concrete of air and water, and the water
and air be separate fluids, yet the union of the two pro-
duces consistency. Should any one object, that this con-
sistency may be occasioned by the condensation of the
aqueous part by cold, and not by means of the incorporated
air, he will correct himself by observing that froth also,
which is a body similar to snow, is not in any way con-
densed by cold. Yet if he still press the objection, by say-
ing that in the formation of foam there is still an antecedent
condensation, not indeed by the action of cold, but by
agitation and concussion: let him take a lesson from the
boys, who with a slight inspiration of air through a pipe or
reed, and by the aid of some water rendered rather more
viscid by mixing a little soap with it, form a strange turri-
form congeries of bubbles.

The case in fact stands thus: bodies at the contact of a
friendly or homogeneous body relax and fall to solution ;
at that of a dissimilar body they contract and hold them-
selves erect and aloof. The application, therefore, of an
incongruous body is the cause of consistency. Thus we
see oil mixed with water, as takes place in preparing un-
guents, in so far divest itself of the fluidity which before
prevailed both in the water and the oil. On the contrary,
we observe paper moistened with water become flaccid and
lose its consistency (which was considerable by reason of
the air which had penetrated its pores), but when moist-
ened with oil, the cohesion is less affected, because it has
less congruity with paper. We see the same thing take
place also in sugar and the like substances, which soften
into commixture with water and wine: and not only blend
intimately with these fluids, but even attract and suck
them up.

Of the Harmony of sentient Bodies with insentient.
VII.

The affections of bodies endowed with sense and desti-
tute of it, have great conformity with one another, except
that in the sentient body, there is the addition of spirit.
For the pupil of the eye corresponds with a mirror and with

446 THOUGHTS ON THE

water, and by a similar property admits and refracts the |

images of light and of visible objects. The organ too of
hearing is analogous to the obstructed part of a cave-like
passage, from which part the voice and all sound best rever-
berates. The attractions also of inanimate objects, and again
their affections of horror and flight (those I mean which
come of their own spontaneous motion), are correlative to
smell and to odours grateful and offensive in the case
of animals. But the capacity of touch and taste, like a
prophet and interpreter, delivers to the mind all the modes
either of forcible appeal, or of benign and insinuating flat-
tery to the sense, which are incident to inanimate sub-
stances, and all the forms they assume under the influence
of these affections. For compressions, expansions, corro-
sions, separations, and the like, are in things without life,
invisible in their progress, and are not perceived till the
effect is manifest. But all violence to the organization of
animals is accompanied with a sense of pain, according to
their different kinds and peculiar natures, owing to that
sentient essence which pervades their frames. And from
this principle may be inferred the knowledge whether
haply any animal possesses some additional sense, besides

those commonly observed, and what senses and how many

can possibly exist in the whole circle of animated nature.
For from the affections of matter duly analyzed, will follow
the number of the senses, if there be only the sufficing
organs for the operation of such senses, and the presence
of spirit to inform them.

Of violent Motion, that it is the rapid Motion and Discur-
sation of the Particles of a Body, in consequence of
Pressure, but perfectly invisible.

VII.

Violent motion (as it is termed), by which missiles, as
stones, arrows, cannon balls, and the like, move through
the air, is of all descriptions of motion nearly the most
familiar. And we may note here, the singular and supine
indifference which men have discovered in observing and
investigating this kind of motion. Nor is a faulty way of
tracing the nature and power of it attended with only tri-
vial loss ; since it is of unlimited use, and as it were the
life and informing principle of projectiles, engines, and all
the applications of mechanical power. Yet many conceive
that they have completely acquitted themselves of their

SMB GEL ARIES tr Siege

NATURE OF THINGS. 447

part in the imvestigation, if they but pronounce such
motion to be violent, and contradistinguish it from natural.
And no doubt it is the system of Aristotle and his school,
to instruct men what to say, not what to think ; to teach a
man by what devices of affirming or denying, he may get
clear of a disputant in argument, not how by force of
thought, he may get clear of a difficulty in the conviction
of his own mind. Others rather more attentive, laying hold
of the position that two bodies cannot exist in one place,
say that it follows as a consequence that the stronger body
propel, and the weaker be dislodged: that this dislodging
or flight, if a less force is used, continues no longer than
the duration of the original impulse, as in protrusion; but if
a greater, the impulsion continues for a time, even after the
removal of the impelling body, till it gradually slackens as
in throwing. And here again, according to another inve-
terate habit of the same school, they catch only at the com-
mencement of the thing, indifferent to its progression and
termination, and drag in all that follows under the head of
the beginning; whence with an overweening haste and
impatience, they break off their train of thought in the
midst. For in what they say of bodies giving way at the
impelling force, there is something ; but why the motion
should continue after the urging body is withdrawn, and
consequently the necessary alternative of the weaker and
stronger body mingling is at an end, of this they say
nothing, not sufficiently apprehending the scope of their
own observations. :

Others, however, more attentive and steady in investi-
gating, having marked the force of the air in winds and
the like instances, which is capable of throwing down trees
and towers, have supposed that the force which urges and
accompanies projectiles, after the first impulsion, ought to be
referred to the air accumulating and rushing in behind the
body in motion, by the impulse of which that body is borne
along, like a ship in the expanse of water. And such per-
sons, at least, do not quit their subject, but carry their
thought to its conclusion; yet they, nevertheless, do not
attain to the truth. The cause in reality is this. The
principal motion seems to be in the parts of the volant
body itself, which parts being imperceptible to vision, on
account of their extreme tenuity, escape the notice of men,
not sufficiently attentive to their subject, and passing it
over with a cursory glance. But to one who gives it a
sounder examination, it is clearly evident, that the harder

448 THOUGHTS ON THE

bodies are, they are the more impatient of pressure, the
more acutely sensitive to it, as it were; so much so, that if
disturbed ever so little from their natural position, they
endeavour with great velocity of movement to free them-
selves from its effect, and resume their original state. To
effect which, the several parts, beginning with the part
struck, successively propel one another, in the same way as
an external force,and keep up that motion vigorously; hence
results a continuous and, though invisible, intense vibra-
tion of the parts. And this we see exemplified in glass,
sugar, and similar brittle substances, which, if they be
divided by a blade or edged instrument, are, as it were, in
a moment broken down in other parts distant from the
_ line described by the blade. Which evidently proves that
the motion of pressure travels to the parts of these sub-
stances successively. This motion pervading all the parts
of the body, and trying, as it were, their compactness,
causes the breaking down of that part, where, from the
structure, the cohesion is weak. Yet does not this motion,
though it agitates and permeates the whole, come into
view, till a visible break or divulsion of continuity takes
place. Again, we observe, if we happen to bend and com-
press between the thumb and forefinger the two ends of a
wire, or bit of cane, or the harder part of a pen, (or similar
bodies which unite flexibility with a certain degree of elas-
ticity), they anon spring from the hand. The cause of
which motion is evidently discernible not to be in the ex-
tremities compressed by the fingers, but in the middle part,
which is the seat of forcible pressure, to relieve itself from
which, the motion comes into play. And in this instance
it is clearly shown, that the alleged cause of motion, the
impulsion of the air, is inadmissible. For here there is no
concussion to let in a rush of air. This is also proved by a
slight experiment, when we press the fresh and smooth ball
of a plum, drawing the fingers gradually together, and in
this manner let it go. For in that instance also compres-
sion is substituted for percussion. But the most conspi-
cuous effect of this interior motion is in the revolutions and
gyrations of missiles while flying. The missiles, indeed,
proceed onwards, but they make their progression in spiral
lines, that is, by straight-lined and rotatory motion toge-
ther, and indeed this curvilinear motion is so fleet, and at
the same time so easy, and somehow so familiar to things,
as to excite a doubt in my mind whether it does not depend
on some higher principle. Yet I think that the cause of

NATURE OF THINGS. 449

this fact is no other than the same we are now handling. For
the concussion of the body occasions an excessive impetus
in all its parts and particles, to effect in some way or other
their extrication and freedom. The body, therefore, not
only acts and flies forth in a straight line, but strives to move
from every point in it at once, and, therefore, whirls round ;
for in both ways it somewhat relieves itself of its impulse.
Now this, which in the harder solids is a somewhat recon-
dite and latent property, is in the softer ones evident, and
so to speak palpable. For as wax, and lead, and similar
soft bodies, when struck with a mallet, give way not only
in the line of percussion, but laterally every way ; so in like
manner, hard or resisting bodies move in a straight line
and periphery at once. For the retrocession of soft bodies
in their substance, and of hard ones in their place, is the
same in its principle, as is evidently seen in the structure of
the soft body, and in the affection of the hard one, exhibited
in its flight and volant path. Meantime let none think
that besides this motion (which is the cardinal point), I
do not ascribe a certain degree of effect to the conveyance
of the air, which is capable of assisting, obstructing, modi-
fying, and regulating the principal motion; for its power
is far from being inconsiderable. And this doctrine of
violent or mechanical motion (which has been hitherto un-
known), is, as it were, the fountain-head of practical me-
chanics.

Of the cause of Motion in Fire-arms, which has been hitherto
envestigated only in part, and that part comparatively un-
amportant.

IX.

The theory of fire-arms,—of a motion so powerful and so
remarkable, is imperfect, and in the more important part,
defective. For it is said in explanation that the gunpowder,
after having been converted into flame and volatilized, ex-
pands and occupies more space; whence it follows, that
as two bodies cannot exist in the same space, otherwise a
jumbling of their dimensions would ensue, or the elementary
form be destroyed, or a preternatural arrangement of the
internal parts of the body be the effect (for this is what
they say), that the impeding body is ejected or broken.
And what they say contains something. For this tendency
is both an affection of matter, and an ingredient in the
motion itself. Yet they err in this, that in their over hasty

VOL. XIV. GG

450 THOUGHTS ON THE

way of determining, they jump at once to the necessary
consequence of the dilatation of a body, and do not accu-
rately consider what comes first in the order of nature.
For that the substance of the gunpowder, after having been
converted into flame, must occupy a larger space, is doubt-
less a thing of necessity ; but that the substance of the gun-
powder should be inflamed at all, and that so instan-
taneously, is not determined by a like necessity, but depends
on an antagonism, and comparative force of motions. For
there is not a doubt, that the compact and heavy body
which is expelled or dislodged by this motion, offers consi-
derable resistance before it gives way, and, if it happen to
be the stronger, is victorious; that is to say, the flame, in
that case, does not cast out the ball, but the ball stifles the
flame. If, therefore, instead of gunpowder, you take sul-
phur, asphaltum, or the like, bodies which are also quickly
inflammable, and (as the closeness of particles in bodies
hinders ignition) reduce them to a grain like gunpowder,
mixing up with it a small quantity of the ashes of the
juniper, or some other very combustible wood ; yet should
the nitre be wanting, that rapid and powerful motion does
not follow: the motion to perfect inflammation is impeded
and fettered by the resisting body, so that it cannot fully
expand and take effect. For besides the motion of inflam-
mation, which chiefly arises from the sulphureous part of
the gunpowder, there is yet another powerful and violent
motion in the case. This is caused by the crude watery
ether, which is extricated from the nitre in part, but chiefly
from the charcoal, and which not only itself dilates, as ex-
haled essences are wont to do, on the application of heat,
but at the same time (which is the principal circumstance) by
a motion of extreme rapidity, flies off and breaks forth from
the heat and flame, thus distending and opening passages
for the inflammation to follow. Of this motion we see the
simplest form in the crackling of the dry leaves of laurel or
ivy, when we cast them into the fire, and still more in salt,
which approximates more nearly to the substance under
examination. We also often observe something like this in
the tallow of candles when melted, and in the windy rustle
of green wood set on fire. But it is chiefly discernible in
quicksilver, which is an extremely crude substance, not
unlike the water of a chalybeate spring; and the force of
it, if tried by the application of fire, and prevented from
sores not greatly inferior to that of gunpowder itself.

en ought, therefore, to be admonished and conjured from —

Res Sage rca hene
Sie ets
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og in

NATURE OF THINGS. 45]

this example, not in their investigation of causes to catch
at only one element, and so too lightly to pronounce upon
them; but to look around them with caution, and rivet
their contemplation more intensely and profoundly.

Of the Dissimilarity of things celestial and sublunary, in
regard to eternity and mutability, that it has not been
proved to be true. |

X.

The received opinion that the universe is regularly divided
and discriminated by spheres as it were, and that there is
one system of heavenly and another of sublunary being,
appears to have been adopted, not without rational grounds,
provided the opinion is applied with proper modifications.
For there is no doubt that the regions situated beneath the
lunar orb, and above it, differ in many and important respects.
Yet is not that belief more certain than this other, that the
bodies in both spheres have tendencies, appetencies, and
motions which are common to both. We ought then to
imitate the unity of nature, to discriminate those spheres
rather than rend them asunder, and not to break down
the continuity of our contemplation. But with respect to
another received opinion, that the heavenly bodies undergo
no change, but that the terrestrial or elementary (as they
are called) are subject to change; and that the matter of
the last resembles a courtezan ever seeking the embrace-
ment of new bodies, but of the other a matron linked to
one in stable and inviolable union; it seems but a popular
notion, weak, and originating in appearances and super-
stition. This notion appears to be tottering, and without
foundation, when viewed in either way. For neither does
their imagined eternity consist with heaven, nor their muta-
bility with earth. For with respect to heaven, we cannot
rest upon it as a reason for changes not happening there,
that they do not emerge to our view, the view of man being
prevented no less by distance of place than by tenuity of
bodies. For various changes are found to take place in
the air, as is evident in heat, cold, smells, sounds, which do
not fall within the line of sight. Nor again, I suppose,
would the eye, if placed in the orb of the moon, descry
across such a prodigious interval, what operations, move-
ments, and changes presented themselves on the face of
the globe, in engines, plants, animals, and so on, which
on account of their distance would not equal the bulk of

452 THOUGHTS ON THE

the minutest straw. Now in bodies of such immense bulk
and magnitude, that by the vastness of their dimensions they
can overcome the greatness of distance, and come into visi-
bility ; it is evident from certain comets, that changes take
place as they move in the expanse of the heavens. I allude
to those comets, which have retained a certain unvaried
relation of position to the fixed stars, such as that which
in our own day appeared in Cassiopea. But as respects
the earth, after having penetrated into the interior recesses
of it, leaving that crust and mixture of substances which
composes its surface and contiguous parts, there seems to
exist there also an eternal immobility, analogous to that
supposed to be found in heaven. For it is beyond a doubt,
that if the earth underwent changes at an extreme depth
beneath its surface, the influence of such changes, even in
the region we tread, would produce greater calamities than
any we behold. Most earthquakes, certainly, and volcanic
eruptions, do not rise from a great but a very moderate
depth, since they affect such an inconsiderable part of the

surface. For in proportion as such visitations agitate a

wider area of the earth’s surface, in the same proportion
we are to suppose that their bases and primitive seats enter
deeper into the bowels of the earth. These earthquakes,
therefore, which are greater (in the extent of surface agitated
I mean, not in violence of tremefaction), and which but
rarely happen, may be assimilated to comets of the des-
cription we have mentioned, which are also unusual. So
that the proposition with which we set out remains un-
shaken, namely, that between heaven and earth there is no
great difference as respects stability and change. But if
any one is influenced to a different opinion by the regularity
and seeming exactness of the motion of the heavenly bodies,
we have before us the ocean, the solitary handmaid as it
were of eternity, which exhibits no less unchangeable uni-
formity than they. Lastly, if any one shall still insist, that
nevertheless it cannot be denied, but that on the surface of
the globe, and the part contiguous to it, changes innume-
rable take place, but that in heaven it is not so, we would
have him thus answered ; that we do not carry the parallel
through every part; and yet if we take the upper and
middle regions of air (as they are termed) for a surface and
exterior integument of heaven, just as among us we regard
that space over which are distributed animals, plants, mi-
nerals, as a surface or outer integument of earth, we behold
in both manifold reproductions and vicissitudes, in full

a TN eee Rem si a ak

NATURE OF THINGS. 453

operation. It would, therefore, seem that all the disorder,
contention, and commotion of the universe, has its seat on
the frontiers of heaven and earth alone. As in civil society,
it often happens in the ordinary course of things, that the
borders of two adjacent kingdoms are wasted with a per-
petual succession of inroads and affrays, while the interior
provinces of either kingdom enjoy continued and profound
tranquillity. ;

And none who bestows a proper attention on the subject
will make an objection of religion. For it was only a hea-
then flourish to ascribe to a material heaven the quality of
being impregnable to decay. The sacred scriptures ascribe
eternity and destructibility equally to heaven and earth,
though they assign to them a different glory and an unequal
reverence. For if it be recorded, that “ the sun and moon
bear faithful and eternal witness in heaven,” it is also said
that “generations pass away, but the earth abideth for
ever.” And that both are transitory is a doctrine contained
in the same oracle of God, namely, that “ heaven and earth
shall pass away, but the word of the Lord will not pass
away.”

These things we have noted, not from any ambition of
novelty in opinion, but because, not in ignorant conjecture,
but instructed by examples, we foresee that these phantas-
tical divorces, and distinctions of objects and of regions,
beyond what truth admits, will prove a serious impediment
to true philosophy and the contemplation of nature.

ieee aes

END OF THE FOURTEENTH VOLUME,

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