Essays civil and moral, Advancement of learning, Novum Organum, etc

THBINERVA1IBRARY-0' 'OOKS

ESSAYS

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FKANCIS BACON, VISCOUNT ST. ALBANS.

THE MINERVA LIBRARY OF FAMOUS BOOKS.

Edited by G. T. BETTANY, M.A., B.Sc.

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL

ADVAXCDIFAT OF LEARNING

NOVUM ORGANUM

ETC.

BY

FRANCIS BACON

Vlscour.t St. Albans, anJ sjin.t.inc LorJ Chancellor >/ I ttglan

V/ITII PORTRAIT AND BIOGRAPHICAL
INTRODUCTION

'\VARD, LOCK, BOWDENf AND CO.

LONDON^ NKW YORK, MKLUOUKNK, AND SVDNEV
) '*?*

i:o3^oiNrrpcD, OA~NT.

VANI1EVAR fi CO.

Un'forin with this I'olmnc.
i. DARWIN'S IHUUNAI. IN 'i in; " 111-: U,LK."

-;. I'.iiKKOW's HllU.K, IN Sl.UX.

4. F.MEKSON'S PKOSK WORKS.

5. GAI.TON'S TRONIC \L S*.UTII AKRICA.

6. MAN/I >NI'S THE I'.K i KOTIIED LOVERS.

7. (;..ETHE'S FAUST (Complete). Bayard Taylor.

8. WALLACE'S TRAVELS ON THE AMAZON.

9. DEAN STANLEY'S LIKE OK DR. ARNOLD.
10. POE'S TALES.

11. COMEDIES HY MOI.IKRE.

12. FORSTER'S LIKE OF GOLDSMITH.
i ;. LANE'S MODERN Lc.vrriANS.

14. TORRENS' LIKE OK MELHOURNE.

15. THACKEKAV'S VANITY FAIR.

16. UARTH'S TRAVKLS IN AFRICA.

.

RARY ESSAYS.

29. MARY BARTON, liy Mrs. Cuskell.

30. INC. RAM'S LIKE OK P<>K.

31. SHIRLEY. I'.y Charlotte P.rontc.

32. HOOKER'S HIMALAYAN JOURNALS.

33. UACON'S F/M.US WORKS.

o: 380"

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION.

FRANCIS BACON, statesman, lawyer, philosopher, and essayist,
was the second son by his second wife of the Lord Keeper Sir
Nicholas Bacon, and was born at York House, close to Charing
Cross, on January 22, 1561. At the age of twelve years and three
months he entered at Trinity College, Cambridge, but remained
there less than two years. His father died in 1579, leaving him
but a Mnall fortune. He set to work at law, having already entered
at Gray's Inn, and was admitted to the bar in 1582. In 1584 he
became M.P. for Mclcombc Regis, and he immediately took
advantage of the ferment of public opinion about Mary Queen of
Scots, to address a " Letter of Advice to Queen Elizabeth,"
which at once showed that he possessed a political genius far in
advance of his time. He strongly advised toleration of the
Catholics, whom he would only require to swear that they would
bear arms against any foreign prince, or the pope, who should
invade England. His next important step (in 1591) was to make
the acquaintance of the Earl of Essex, who became warmly
attached to him, while Bacon's friendship was scarcely disinterested,
one of his objects being thus expressed by himself fourteen years
later : — " I held at that time my lord to be the fittest instrument
to do good to the State ; and therefore I applied myself to him
in a manner which I think rarely happeneth among men." lie
gave him on all public matters the benefit of his statesmanlike
advice, hoping that Essex would succeed in carrying it into effect
He himself took important action in the Parliament of 1593, in
which he sat for the county of Middlesex, being successful in bis

iv BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION.

opposition to a joint conference of Lords and' Commons on a
question about subsidies, although his uncle, the Lord Treasurer
Burghley, and the Court p.;rly were strongly in favour of the
proposal. Queen Eli/abeth was very angry with him, and seeing
that his chances of official promotion were at present slender, he
applied himself, with success, to work in the law courts. He
might have become Solicitor-General at that time if he would
have apologised to the queen for his conduct about the subsidy,
but he would not be moved from his constitutional position. To
make up for the disappointment — which to Essex, who had
perseveringly urged his claims, was very deep — the latter gave
Bacon a valuable piece of land. Bacon characteristically said
that he accepted it with reservation of his duty to the Crown and
to others. "I can be no more yours than I was." In 1596,
when Essex was at the highest point of success, and was being
thought of as a man who might become dangerous even to the
Crown, Bacon sent him a letter of advice, which, in addition to
much that is excellent, recommends him "to use a variety of
petty tricks, to make agreeable speeches, and to appear otherwise
than he is " (Gardiner). At the same time he was preparing for
publication the first edition of his " Essays," issued early in 1597.
A little later he was trying to persuade Essex to study the Irish
question, then so prominent, but Essex's quarrel with the queen
intervened, and a peaceful settlement such as Bacon would have
recommended became impossible. Late in 1598 Bacon encouraged
Essex to take the command in Ireland, and told him that he
might gain great glory by bringing the Irish under a just and
civil government. Yet Bacon in his " Apology " says that he
dissuaded Essex from going, as he would be risking the loss of
the queen's favour, and he would find the Irish difficult to
conquer. Bacon may have forgotten himself, for the letter con
taining the advice to go is in existence, or he may have written two
letters and sent only one. It is circumstances like these that
support a charge of duplicity against Bacon. He was like many
men of his time, willing to seek good political objects by finesse,
by diplonacy, by calculating the chances as to which of two
courses— which might or might not seem morally justifiable to us

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION.

— would best advance his ends. Thus, when, as one of her
majesty's counsel, he had to plead again' t Essex in 1600, after
his complete failure in Ireland, he treated him " not tenderly," as
he admits, hoping thereby to retain the queen's goodwill, and
afterwards use it in favour of Essex. Six weeks later Essex was
liberated, but forbidden to come to Court. Bacon wrote to Essex,
that though he loved few persons better than himself, yet he loved
the queen's service and her favour, and the good of his country
more. He appeared for the Crown at Essex's trial for treason in
1 60 1, and largely helped to secure his conviction. Prof. Gardiner
palliates his appearing thus against his former friend and bene
factor by referring to the insecurity of the State and the necessity
of preventing ambitious men from gaining undue authority, and
then producing revolt and anarchy. But if Bacon's so-called
" love " for Essex had had any real existence we cannot believe
that he would have aided in bringing a death sentence on him.
Even if all were the fault of Essex, others might have been
allowed to point the arrow, wing it for flight, and take the deathly
aim. In the last years of Elizabeth's reign Bacon busied himself
in the advocacy of religious toleration in Ireland, and the establish
ment of courts of justice there without English technicalities.
He also proposed the introduction, as a sort of garrison, of English
settlers.

The accession of James led to Bacon's being knighted, and to
his sending to the king plans for the union of England and
Scotland, and for the pacification of the Church of England.
Bacon was appointed one of the English Commissioners to
discuss terms of union with the Scotch Commissioners. He
laboured hard to secure freedom of commerce between the two
countries, and the naturalisation of Scotchmen in England, and
the converse. In 1605 he published his "Advancement of
Learning." In 160';, in spite of his warm advocacy, the House
of Commons rejected his statesmanlike proposals about the
union : he was more than a century in advance of his time. Dis
appointed in his hopes of gaining more influence at Court, Bacon
employed his leisure in his philosophical works, and in 1610 he
had finished the " Wisdom of the Ancients," also having made

IV

BIO C.RA PH1CA L /ATA' 01) UCT10N.

opposition to a joint conference of Lords and Commons on a
question about subsidies, although his uncle, the Lord Treasurer
Burghley, and the Court p.>rty were strongly in favour of the
proposal. Queen Eli/abeth was very angry with him, and seeing
that his chances of official promotion were at present slender, he
applied himself, with success, to work in the law courts. He
might have become Solicitor-General at that time if he would
have apologised to the queen for his conduct about the subsidy,
but he would not be moved from his constitutional position. To
make up for the disappointment— which to Essex, who had
perseveringly urged his claims, was very deep — the latter gave
Bacon a valuable piece of land. Bacon characteristically said
that he accepted it with reservation of his duty to the Crown and
to others. "I can be no more yours than I was." In 1596,
when Essex was at the highest point of success, and was being
thought of as a man who might become dangerous even to the
Crown, Bacon sent him a letter of advice, which, in addition to
much that is excellent, recommends him " to use a variety of
petty tricks, to make agreeable speeches, and to appear otherwise
than he is" (Gardiner). At the same time he was preparing for
publication the first edition of his " Essays," issued early in 1597.
A little later lie was trying to persuade Essex to study the Irish
question, then so prominent, but Essex's quarrel with the queen
intervened, and a peaceful settlement such as Bacon would have
recommended became impossible. Late in 1598 Bacon encouraged
Essex to take the command in Ireland, and told him that he
might gain great glory by bringing the Irish under a just and
civil government. Vet Bacon in his "Apology" snys that he
dissuaded Essex from going, as he would be risking the loss of
the queen's favour, and he would find the Irish difficult to
conquer. liacon may have forgotten himself, for the letter con
taining the advice to go is in existence, or he may have written two
letters and sent only one. It is circumstances like these that
support a charge of duplicity against Bacon. He was like many
men of his time, willing to seek good political objects by finesse,
by diplon acy, by calculating the chances as to which of two
courses— which might or might not seem morally justifiable to us

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION.

— would best advance his ends. Thus, when, as one of her
majesty's counsel, he had to plead again' t Essex in 1600, after
his complete failure in Ireland, he treated him " not tenderly," as
he admits, hoping thereby to retain the queen's goodwill, and
afterwards use it in favour of Essex. Six weeks later Essex was
liberated, but forbidden to come to Court. Bacon wrote to Essex,
that though he loved few persons better than himself, yet he loved
the queen's service and her favour, and the good of his country
more. lie appeared for the Crown at Essex's trial for treason in
1 60 1, and largely helped to secure his conviction. Prof. Gardiner
palliates his appearing thus against his former friend and bene
factor by referring to the insecurity of the State and the necessity
of preventing ambitious men from gaining undue authority, and
then producing revolt and anarchy. But if Bacon's so-called
" love " for Essex had had any real existence we cannot believe
that he would have aided in bringing a death sentence on him.
Even if all were the fault of Essex, others might have been
allowed to point the arrow, wing it for flight, and take the deathly
aim. In the last years of Elizabeth's reign Bacon busied himself
in the advocacy of religious toleration in Ireland, and the establish
ment of courts of justice there without English technicalities.
He also proposed the introduction, as a sort of garrison, of English
settlers.

The accession of James led to Bacon's being knighted, and to
his sending to the king plans for the union of England and
Scotland, and for the pacification of the Church of England.
Bacon was appointed one of the English Commissioners to
discuss terms of union with the Scotch Commissioners. lie
laboured hard to secure freedom of commerce between the two
countries, and the naturalisation of Scotchmen in England, and
the converse. In 1605 he published his " Advancement of
Learning." In i6of;, in spite of his warm advocacy, the House
of Commons rejected his statesmanlike proposals about the
union : he was more than a century in advance of his time. Dis
appointed in his hopes of gaining more influence at Court, Bacon
employed his leisure in his philosophical works, and in 1610 he
had finished the " Wisdom of the Ancients," also having made

niOGKAPHlCAL INTRODUCTION.

progress with his " Instauratio Magna." On Lord Salisbury's
death Bacon was urgent with the king to make use of his political
services, suggesting plans and measures of great importance.
Adroit manipulation figures too largely in them ; but his advice
to the king to have no more bargaining with his subjects, to wait
patiently till the Commons were willing to grant supplies, that
" Charity seeketh not her own," and that the king was to take
care of his subjects and his subjects take care of their king, was
too high-pitched for that age. Bacon was surprised by the news
of the secret arrangement of the Spanish marriage, but he still
adhered to the king, and took his side against Coke in the long
quarrel about the supremacy of the judges over the king's orders,
which we cannot detail here. Coke was dismissed from the Chief
Justiceship in 1616. Bacon became a privy councillor ; and in
March, 1617, he reached one of the goals of his ambition in
being appointed Lord Keeper. In 1618 his title was changed to
Lord Chancellor, and he was created Baron Verulam. As a judge
he was rapid and just ; but Buckingham continually sent him
letters, asking him to favour his friends in their suits. He
managed adroitly to steer clear of any open yielding. Against
Buckingham's desires he advocated the abolition of the more
injurious patents and monopolies then so numerous and so
fettering to trade and invention. In 1620 he published his
" Xovum Organum''; and in 1621 he kept his sixtieth birthday
at York House, which Ben Jonson celebrated in verse, depicting
him as one

" Whose even thread the fates spin round and full
Out of their choicest and their whitest wool."

A few days later he was created Viscount St. Albans.

But a storm was brewing which he could not weather with all
his manipulation. In March, Cranfield, the Master of the Wards,
accused the Court of Chancery of unduly protecting insolvents;
but very quickly certain petitions were presented to the House of
Commons in which the Lord Chancellor was directly accused of

ribcry : he tad taken money from persons and decided their
cases against them. He had himself laid down as a rule, that

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION.

though it was then customary for judges to take presents from
suitors, they should never be accepted while the cause was
pending. The charges against him were sent to the House of
Lords for investigation, but Bacon's health broke down, and he
was not able to defend himself. When he saw the charges in
detail, he acknowledged that he had come under condemnation
by taking money while cases were pending, though he had never
taken a bribe from corrupt motives. He made a confession and
submission to the Lords, hoping for lenient treatment. But he
was dismissed from the Chancellorship, fined ^£"40,000, ordered
to be imprisoned during the king's pleasure, and excluded from
Parliament and the Court. The king released him after a few
days, assigned his fine to trustees for his use, and gave him a
qualified pardon.

Bacon, conscious of having judged impartially and indepen
dently of suitors' presents, was not so cast down but that he was
able to turn immediately to his literary and scientific pursuits.
By October in the year of his fall he had finished his " History of
Henry VII. "; next he translated into Latin his "Advancement
of Learning." He offered to draw up a digest of English law,
and still sought for public employment. In 1625 he in vain
applied for a full pardon, so that he could once more sit in
parliament. lie continued to work at his " Instauratio Magna,"
but ill-health now made his work difficult. He took a chill in
getting some snow to insert in a fowl in order to observe its effect
in preserving the flesh, and died at Lord Arundel's on April 9,
1626, of bronchitis. He was buried at St. Michael's Church, St.
Albans.

Bacon's Essays, whatever we may think of the opinions they
express, are certainly models of condensed expressive style. One
may say, as a general rule, that everything is said well, so as to
convey the author's meaning, in the fewest and most appropriate
words. Even Shakespeare does not afford a larger proportion of
generally known quotations than these Essays.

As to the matter of many of the Essays opinion differs widely.
For instance, in saying that " the stage is more beholding to love
than the life of man," the author contradicts human experience*

A ril/L'A L IM'ROD UC TIOX.

feeling, and aspiration. So also Bacon was not in advance of his
times in his attitude towards heretics. In his views on the div.'ne
right and even divinity of kings, Bacon outdoes almost every one.
" A king is a mortal god on earth," he begins ; and concludes,
" He then that honourcth him not is next an atheist, wanting the
fear of (Jod in his heart/'

Each reader for himself must appropriate the value of these
Kssays. Their excellences need no pointing out. Those who
think to read a dozen at a sitting will find it quite sufficient exer
cise of their thoughts to consider only one or two.

No translations of the frequent Ixitin quotations are here given ;
in most cases the essence of them is given in the sentence pre
ceding or following them.

The "Advancement of Learning" stands in the front rank
among books of suggestion, books which stimulate thought, books
which educate. The masterly defence of true learning and of its
advancement and propagation in Book I. destroyed many ill-
founded objections. How happy a thing it would be for manv
men of science if they could, as Bacon recommends, give up
making imre knowledge the be-all and end-all of life ! How
fortunate we should all be if we could use our knowledge to give
ourselves repose and contentment and not distaste or repining !
Hut Bacon sets no limits to our search into God's works, and he
recommends every one to take up some study ; all men, he savs,
have leisure for some learning. In pointing out abuses of learn
ing, Bacon discusses things still applicable. We have not yet lost
sight of vain and contentious learning, the multiplication of new
and difficult terms, the bowing down to certain authors as
dictators.

Bacon's panegyric on the dignity of knowledge is scarcely
unproved by his reference to Adam's learning in the garden of
Kden, or his running catalogue of celebrated men or potentates
who acquired or favoured learning.

The Second Book grapples with the main question-How
>mg is to be advanced. The foundation of colleges endow
ment of professors' chairs, which ought to be well paid the
wmcnt of research which cannot be adequately carried on by

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION. ix

private means, are among measures advocated by Bacon, and pro
gressing ever since his time. The chief part of the book is taken
up by a survey of all subjects of knowledge, noting especially those
which are incompletely investigated. It is very interesting to see
how many of the subjects mentioned have since Bacon's time
been undertaken and thoroughly dealt with. But his description
of and reference to poetry, of which he considers we have quite
enough, will by no means be endorsed by those who have any
feeling for the divine art.

In the " Novum Organum " Bacon commences with a long
series of aphorisms, in which he points out the sources of error in
the past, and especially certain general causes which make against
the attainment of truth. His celebrated "idols" (itfwXn), or
phantoms of the mind, include the idols — one might say the pre
judices — of the human race, those of the individual, whether by
nature or education,, those of the market-place or public speech,
in which names are .given to unreal things, or words wrongly
represent real things. The " idols " of the theatre, following one
another like scenes in a play, are successive false systems of
philosophy or demonstration. Book II. contains Bacon's cele
brated method for the discovery of truth by experiment and induc
tion. His method is complex, probably more complex than it
would have been if he had been a great experimentalist ; but its
special merit is that of showing how to eliminate the non-essen
tial, and, by means of crucial experiments, trace an cflect to its
cause. He endeavoured to illustrate his method by a supposed
investigation into heat, and showed his prescience by giving a
definition of heat which marvellously resembles the modern
theory. In some points this investigation shows Bacon's ignor
ance of what was already known ; and it is strange to find no
mention of Harvey's discoveries as to the circulation of the blood.
His ignorance of the Copernican theory and of other astronomical
discoveries, and his contempt for Dr. Gilbert's invaluable work on
magnetism, are phenomena which we can only put down to his
large occupation in political work and to the overpowering necessity
that he felt of putting forth what was in himself. But his ignor
ance of many things may well be forgiven, when we rememt>er the

JUOGKA PI 1IC A L IXTROD UC TION.

great number of brilliant suggestions which he himself put
forward.

" Bacon called men as with the voice of a herald to lay them
selves alongside of nature, to study her ways, and imitate her
processes. . . . lie insisted, both by example and precept, on
the importance of experiment as well as observation. Nature,
like a witness, when put to the torture, would reveal her secrets.
In both these ways Bacon recalled men to the study of facts, and
though, in the first instance, he had mainly in view the facts of
external nature, the influence of his teaching soon extended itself,
as he undoubtedly purposed that it should do, to the facts of
mind, conduct, and society. In order to set men free to study
facts, it was necessary to deliver them from the pernicious subjec
tion to authority, to which they had so long been enslaved.
Hardly less important . . . was the emancipation of reason from
the bewitching enchantments of imagination. . . . Bacon insisted
on the necessity of a logic of induction . . . and to this logic of
induction he himself made no contemptible contributions. That
our instances require to be selected and not merely accumulated,

. . he was never weary of repeating " (Prof. Fowler in " Dic
tionary of National Biography ").

Bacon's works rank among the choicest English classics. For
literary style, for thought, for scientific value they are priceless.
" For my name and memory," wrote Bacon in his will in 1625,
" I leave it to men's charitable speeches, and to foreign nations,
and the next ages." His hopes are fulfilled ; charity views his
conduct with leniency; all nations have benefited by his teachings,
which will be valued as long as the English language endures.

G. T. B.

CONTENTS.

PACT

BIOGRAPHICAL INTRODUCTION Hi

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL —

I. Of Truth i

II. Of Death 2

III. Of Unity in Religion ... ... ... ... 3

IV. Of Revenge ... ... ... ... ... 6

V. Of Adversity ... ... ... ... ... 7

VI. Of Simulation and Dissimulation ... ... ... 7

VII. Of Parents and Children ... ... ... ... 9

VIII. Of Marriage and Single Life ... ... ... 10

IX. Of Envy n

X. Of Love ... ... ... ... ... i.j

XI. Of Great Place 15

XII. Of Boldness 17

XIII. Of Goodness, and Goodness of Nature ... ... 18

XIV. Of Nobility 20

XV. Of Seditions and Troubles ... ... ... ... 21

XVI. Of Atheism ... ... ... ... ... 25

XVII. Of Superstition ... ... ... ... ... 26

XVI 1 1. Of Travel 27

XIX. Of Empire ... ... ... ... ... ... 29

XX. Of Counsel 32

XXI. Of Delays 34

XXII. Of Cunning 35

XXIII. Of Wisdom for a Man's Self 37

XXIV. Of Innovations 38

XXV. Of Despatch 39

XXVI. Of Seeming Wise 40

XXVII. Of Friendship 41

XXVIII. Of Expence 45

XXIX. Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms and Estates ... 46

COXTI-XTS.

XXX. Of Regiment of Hcnlili ... ... ... ... 51

XXXI. Of Suspicion ... ... ... ... ... 52

XXXII. Of Discourse ... ... ... ... ... 53

XXXIII. Of Plantations ... ... ... ... ... \.\

XXXIV. Of Riches 5-,

XXXV. Of Prophecies :,]

XXXVI. Of Amliition ... ... ... ... 60

XXXVII. Of Masques nmlTiiumpIij Gi

XXXVIII. Of Nature in M.n ... ... ... ... 62

XXXIX. Of CuMo in and Kducathm ... ... ... ... c\

XI.. Of Fortune ... ... ... ... ... 6\

XI. I. Of Usury ... ... ... ... ... ... 6^

XI. II. Of Youth and Age ... ... ... ... (j

XI. III. Of IV-.iuty ... ... ... ... ... (l)

XI. IV. Of Deformity ... ... ... ... ... (()

XI.V. Of I'.mlding ... ... ... ... ... ... 70

XI.VI. Of Gardens ... ... ... ... ... 7,

XI. VII. Of Negotiating ... ... ... ... ... ,.'•]

XI. VIII. Ot Followers and Friend,... ... ... ... 'TJ

XI.IX. Of Suitors ... ... ... ... ... . ?3

L. Of Studies ... ... ... ^

I.I. Of Faction ' ... " t>< oo

I. II. Of Ceremonies and Respects ... .. Rt

I. III. Of Praise ' ' ... ' 8a

I. IV. Of Vain-Olory ... ... ... ... ' o~

I A'. ( »l Honour and Reputation .. ... $

IA'I. Of Judicature ...
I. VI I. Of An-er ...

I.VIII. ()( Vicissitude of Things ... ... ... '' ... ' rjj

A rragment of an Essay on I-'.IHH:
An l-'.ssay on Death

"MI: FIK^T HOOK. OF mi: I'KOKICIKNXT; AND ADVAXCKMKN

OF I.KARNING —

92

*39

i-M ORCANT.M; OR, TRVK DIRECTIONS FOR TIIK INTFR-
rki.i.Miox or N.MURK —

1 P. ...

I. Aphorisms on the Interpretation of Nature and the

Kingdom of Man

II. Aphorisms on the Interpretations of Nature or the
Kingdom of Man

CONTENTS. xiii

GREAT I NSTAU RATION —

Announcement of the Author
Author's Preface
Distribution of the \Voik

TlIE \VkDOM OF THE ANCIENTS —

1'KI.I-ACE ... ... ... ... ... ... ... 415

1. The Fable of Cculuin. Explained of the Creation, or Oiitjin

of all Tilings ... .. ... ... ... 417

II. The Fable of Prometheus. Explained of an Over-ruling

Providence, and of Human Nature ... ... ... 419

III. The Fable of Orpheus. Explained of Natural and Moral

Philosophy ... ... ... ... ... 426

IV. The Fable of Atalanta and Hippomenes. Explained of the

Contest Betwixt Art and Nature ... ... ... 428

V. The Fable of Ericthonius. Explained of the Improper Use

of Force in Natural Philosophy ... ... ... 429

VI. The Fable of Icarus, and that of Scylla and Charybdis.

Explained of Mediocrity in Natural and Moral Philosophy 430
VI I. The Fable of Proteus. Explained of Matter and its Changes 4
VIII. The Fable of Cupid. Explained of the Corpuscular

Philosophy ... ... ... ... ... 432

IX. The Fable of Deucalion. Explained of a Useful Hint in

Natural Philosophy ... ... ... ... 43 \

X. The Fable of Sphinx. Explained of the Sciences... ... 435

XI. The Fable of Proserpine. Explained of the Spirit included

in Natural liodies ... ... ... ... 437

XII. The Fable of Memnon. Explained of the Fatal Precipitancy

of Youth ... ... ... ... .. ... 439

XIII. The Fable of Tythonus. Explained of Predominant

Passions ... ... ... ... ... 410

XIV. The Fable of Narcissus. Explained of Self-Love ... 440
XV. The Fable of Juno's Courtship. Explained of Submission

and Abjection .. ... ... ... ... 4.11

XVI. The Fable of Cassandra. Explained of Too Free and

Unseasonable Advice ... ... ... ... 4)2

XVII. The Fable of the Sirens. Explained of Men's Passions for

Pleasure ... ... ... ... ... 4.13

XVIII. The Fable of Diomed. Explained of Persecution, or Zeal

for Religion ... ... 445

XIX. The Fable of Acteon and Pentheus. Explained of Curiosity,

or Prying into the Secrets of Princes and Divine Mysteries 44^
XX. The Fable of the River Styx. Explained of Necessity, jn

the Oaths or Solemn leagues of Princes ... ^7

XXI. The Fable of Jupiter and Metis. Explained of Princes rifld

their Council ... ... ... ... ... 448

CONTEXTS.

r.uai

XXII. Tlic Fable of i '.!><!> inion. Explained of Court Favourites 449
XX II I. The Fable of Ncnvjsis. Explained of the Reveres of

FIJI tune ... ... ... ... 15°

XXIV. '1 he l-".il)!e of Cyclop's Death. Explained of Base Court

Olhccrs ... ... ... ... ... 451

XXV. 'Mi.: Fable of the Giants' Sister. Explained of Public De

traction ... ... ... ••• 452

XXVI. The Fable of T>phon. Explained of Rebellion ... 453
XXVII. The Fable of Aclielous. Explained of War by Invasion ... 454

XXVIII. The Fable of Diudalus. Explained of Arts and Artists in

Kingdoms an 1 States ... ... ... ... 455

XXIX. The Fablffof Dionysius. Explained of the Passions ... 456
XXX. The Fable of Perseus, or War. Explained of the Prepara
tion and Conduct N''ce-;i.iry to \\'ar ... ... 4*9

XXXI. Tin- F.iNe of Pan, or N'.ituio. Explained of Natural

Philosophy ... ... ... ... ... 461

NEW ATLANTIS ... ... ... ... ... ... 467

XV

TO MR. ANTHONY BACON,

HIS DEAR BROTHER.

LOVING and beloved brother, I do now like some that have an orchard
ill neighboured, that gather their fruit before it is ripe, to prevent
stealing. These fragments of my conceit were going to print : to labour
the stay of them had been troublesome, and subject to interpretation ;
to let them pass had been to adventure the wrong they might receive
by untrue copies, or by some garnishment which it might please any
that should set them forth to bestow upon them ; therefore I held it
best discretion to publish them myself, as they passed long ago from
my pen, without any further disgrace than the weakness of the author ;
and as I did ever hold, there might be as great a vanity in retiring and
withdrawing men's conceit (except they be of some nature) from the
world, as in obtruding them : so in these particulars I have played
myself the inquisitor, and finding nothing to my understanding in
them contrary or infectious to the state of religion or manners, but
rather, as I suppose, medicinable : only I dislike now to put them out,
because they will be like the late new half-pence, which though the
silver were good, yet the pieces were small ; but since they would not
stay with their master, but would needs travel abroad, I have preferred
them to you that are next myself ; dedicating them, such as they are,
to our love, in the depth whereof, I assure you, I sometimes wish your
infirmities translated upon myself, that her majesty might have the
service of so active and able a mind ; and I might be with excuse con
fined to these contemplations and studies, for which I am fittest : so
commend I you to the preservation of the Divine Majesty.

Your entire loving brother,

FRANCIS BACON.

From my Chamber at Gray's Inn,
(his jotfiof January, JJQ?.

XVI

TO MY LOVING BROTHER,

SIR JOHN CONSTABLE, KT.

MY last Essays I dedicated to my dear brother, Mr. Anthony Bacon,
who is with God. Looking among my papers this vacation, I found
others of the same nature: which if I myself shall not suffer to be
lost, it seemeth the world will not, by the often printing of the former.
Missing my brother, I found you next ; in respect of bond, both of
near alliance, and of straight friendship and society, and particularly
of communication in studies ; wherein I must acknowledge myself
beholden to you : for as my business found rest in my contemplations,
so my contemplations ever found rest in your loving conference and
judgment : so wishing you all good, I remain

Your loving brother and friend,
1612. FRANCIS BACON.

TO THE
RIGHT HONOURABLE MY VERY GOOD LORD

THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM,
fyit c55r<ue JlorD Hpilj SUnniral

EXCELLENT LORD,

SOLOMON says, "a good name is as a precious ointment; " and I
assure myself such will your Grace's name be with posterity : for your
fortune and merit both have been eminent ; and you have planted
things that are like to last. I do now publish my Essays ; which of
all my other works, have been most current ; for that, as it seems, they
come home to men's business and bosoms. I have enlarged them
both in number and weight ; so that they are indeed a new work : I
thought it, therefore, agreeable to my affection and obligation to your
Grace, to prefix your name before them, both in English and Latin :
for I do conceive, that the Latin volume of them, being in the uni
versal language, may last as long as books last. My Instauration I
dedicated to the King; my History of Henry the Seventh, which I
have now translated into Latin, and my portions of Natural History,
to the Prince ; and these I dedicate to your Grace, being of the best
fruits, that, by the ^ood increase which God gives to my pen and
labours, I could yield. God lead your Grace by the hand.

Your Grace's most obliged and faithful servant,

FRANCIS ST. ALBAN.

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

I. OF TRUTH.

WHAT is tnith ? said jesting Pilate ; and would not stay for an
answer. Certainly there be that delight in giddiness ; and count it a
bondage to fix a belief; affecting free-will in thinking, as well as in
acting. And though the sect of philosophers of that kind be gone, yet
there remain certain discoursing wits, whichare of the same veins, though
there be not so much blood in them as was in those of the ancients.
But it is not only the difficulty and labour which men take in findii.g
out of truth ; nor again, that when it is found, it imposcth upon men's
thoughts ; that doth bring lyes in favour : but a natural though cor
rupt love of the lye itself. One of the later school of the Grecians
examincth the matter, and is at a stand to think what should be in
it, that men should love lyes ; where neither they make for pleasure,
as with poets ; nor for advantage, as with the merchant ; but for the
lye's sake. But I cannot tell : this same truth is a naked and open
day-light, that doth not show the masks, and mummeries, and triumphs
of the world, half so stately and daintily as candle-lights. Truth may
perhaps come to the price of a pearl, that showcth best by day ; but it
will not rise to the price of a diamond or carbuncle, that showeth best
in varied lights. A mixture of a lye doth ever add pleasure. Doth
any man doubt, that if there were taken out of men's minds, vain
opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one would,
and the like ; bul it would leave the minds of a number of men, poor
shrunken things; full of melancholy and indisposition, and unplcasing
to themselves ? One of the fathers, in great severity, called poesy,
vinum dacmonum ; because it filleth the imagination, and yet it is but
with the shadow of a lye. But it is not the lye that passeth through
the mind, but the lye that sinkcth in, and settlcth in it, that doth the
hurt, such as we spake of before. But howsoever these things are thus
'm men's depraved judgments and affections, yet truth, which only doth
judge itself, tcacheth, that the inquiry of truth, which is the love-
making, or wooing of it ; the knowledge of truth, which is the presence
of it ; and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it ; is the sove
reign good of human nature. The first creature of God, in the works
of the days, was the light of the sense ; the last was the light of
reason ; ?Jid his sabbath work ever since is the illumination of his
Spirit. First he breathed light upon the face of the matter, or chaos ;
then he breathed light into the face of man ; and still he brcathetn
and inspireth light into the face of his chosen. The poet that beau
tified the sect, that was otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet excel
lently well : *Mt is a pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to sec

ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL,

ships tost upon the sea : a pleasure to stand in the \vindow of a
castle, and to see a battle, and the adventures thereof below : but no
pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage ground of
truth, a hill not to be commanded, and where the air is always clear and
serene : and to see the errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tem
pests, in the vale below :" so always, that this prospect be with pity,
and not with swelling or pride. Certainly, it is heaven upon earth to
have a man's mind move in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon
the poles of truth.

To pass from theological and philosophical truth, to the truth of
civil business ; it will be acknowledged, even by those that practise it
not, that clear and round dealing is the honour of man's nature ; and
that mixture of falsehood is like allay in coin of gold and silver : which
may make the metal work the better, but it embaseth it. For these wind
ing and crooked courses are the goings of the serpent; which goeth basely
upon the belly, and not upon the feet. There is no vice that doth so
cover a man with shame, as to be found false and perfidious. And
therefore Montagne saith prettily, when he inquired the reason, why
the word of the lye should be such a disgrace, and such an odious
charge? Saith he, " If it be well weighed, to say that a man lyeth, is
as much as to say, that he is brave towards God, and a coward
towards men. For a lye faces God, and shrinks from man." Surely
the wickedness of falsehood, and breach of faith, cannot possibly be GO
highly expressed, as in that it shall be the last peal to call the
judgments of God upon the generations of men : it being foretold, that
when Christ cometh " he shall not find faith upon the earth."

II. OF DEATH.

Men fear death, as children fear to go in the dark : and as that
natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other.
Certainly, the contemplation of death, as the wages of sin, and
passage to another world, is holy and religious ; but the fear of it, as
a tribute due unto nature, is weak. Yet in religious meditations, there
is sometimes mixture of vanity and of superstition. You shall read
in some of the friars' books of mortification, that a man should think
with himself, what the pain is, if he have but his finger's end pressed
or tortured ; and thereby imagine what the pains of death are, when
the whole body is corrupted and dissolved ; when many times death
passcth with less pain than the torture of a limb : for the most vital
parts are not the quickest of sense. And by him that spake only as a
philosopher, and natural man, it was well said, " Pompa mortis magis
tcrret, quam mors ipsa." Groans and convulsions, and a discoloured
face, and friends weeping, and blacks, and obsequies, and the like,
show death terrible. It is worthy the observing, that there is no
passion in the mind of man so weak, but it mates and masters the fear
of death : and therefore death is no such terrible enemy, when a man
hath so many attendants about him, that can win the combat of him.
Revenge triumphs over death ; love slights it ; honour aspircth to it j

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

grief flieth to it ; fear pre-occupatcth it : nay, we read, after Otho the
emperor had slain himself, pity, which is the tcnclcrest of affections,
provoked many to die, out of mere compassion to their sovereign, and
as the truest sort of followers. Nay, Seneca adds, niceness and
satiety; "cogita quamcliu eaclcm feccris ; mori velle, non tantum
fortis, aut miser, scd etiam fastidiosus potest." A man would die,
though he were neither valiant, nor miserable, only upon a weariness
to do the same tiling so oft over and over. It is no less worthy to
observe, how little alteration in good spirits the approaches of death
make ; for they appear to be the same men till the last instant.
Augustus Ca?sar died in a compliment ; " Livia, conjugii nostri, mcmor
vivc, et vale." Tiberius in dissimulation; as Tacitus saithofhim;
"Jam Tibcrium vires et corpus, non dissimulatio, dcserebant." Ves
pasian in a jest ; sitting upon the stool; " Ut puto, Deus ho." Galba
with a sentence ; " Fcri, si ex re sit populi Romani ; " holding forth
his neck. Scptimius Severus in despatch; "Aclcste, si quid mihi
restat agendum:" and the like. Certainly the Stoics bestowed too
much cost upon death, and by their great preparations made it appear
more fearful. Better saith he, "qui finem vit;e- extremum inter muncra
ponit nature." It is as natural to die, as to be born ; and to a little
infant, perhaps, the one is as painful as the other. He that dies in an
earnest pursuit, is like one that is wounded in hot blood ; who, for the
time, scarce feels the hurt ; and therefore a mind fixt and bent upon
somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolours of death : but above all,
believe it, the sweetest canticle is " Nunc dimittis ; " when a man hath
obtained worthy ends and expectations. Death hath this also ; that it
opcncth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy. — " Extinctus
amabitur idem."

III. OF UNITY IN RELIGION.

Religion being the chief band of human society, it is a happy thing,
when itself is well contained within the true band of unity. The quarrels
and divisions about religion were evils unknown to the heathen. The
reason was, because the religion of the heathen consisted rather in
rites and ceremonies, than in any constant belief. For you may
imagine what kind of faith theirs was, when the chief doctors and
fathers of their church were the poets. But the true God hath this
attribute, that he is a jealous God ; and therefore his worship and
religion will endure no mixture nor partner. We shall therefore speak
a few words concerning the unity of the Church : what are the fruits
thereof ; what arc the bounds ; and what the means.

The fruits of unity, next unto the well-pleasing of God, which is all
in all, arc two ; the one towards those that arc without the Church ;
the other towards those that arc within. For the former: it is certain
that heresies and schisms arc of all others the greatest scandals ; yea
more than corruption of manners. For as in the natural body, a
wound, or solution of continuity, is worse than a corrupt humour ; so
in the spiritual. So that nothing doth so much keep men out of the

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL

Church, and drive men out of the Church, as breach of unity : and
therefore, whensoever it cometh to that pass, that one saith, " ecce in
dcscrto;" another saith, "ccce in penetralibus;" that is, when some
men seek Christ in the conventicles of heretics, and others in ;m out
ward face of a church, that voice had need continually to sound in
men's cars, " nolitc cxirc," go not out. The doctor of the Gentiles, the
propriety of whose vocation drew him to have a special care of those
without, saith: " If an heathen come in, and hear you speak with
several tongues, will he not say that you are mad ? " And certainly it is
little better when atheists and profane persons do hear of so many
discordant and contrary opinions in religion ; it doth avert them from
the Church, and maketh them " to sit down in the chair of the scorners."
It is but a light thing to be vouched in so serious a manner, but yet
it expressed! well the deformity : there is a master of scoffing, that
in his catalogue of books of a feigned library sets down this title of a
book, " The Morris-dance of Hcrctiqucs." For indeed every sect ot
them hath a diverse posture or cringe by themselves, which cannot
but move derision in worldlings and depraved politics, who are apt to
contemn holy things.

As for the fruit towards those that are within, it is peace ; which
containcth infinite blessings : it established! faith ; it kindleth charily j
the outward peace of the Church distilleth into peace of conscience;
and it turncth the labours of writing and reading of controversies into
treatises of mortification and devotion.

Concerning the bonds of unity; the true placing of them importc'.h
exceedingly. There appear to be two extremes. For to certain zealots
all speech of pacification is odious. " Is it peace, Jehu? What hast
thou to do with peace? turn thcc behind me." Peace is not the matter,
but following and party. Contrariwise, certain Laodiceans, and hike-
warn! persons, think they may accommodate points of religion by
middle-ways, and taking part of both, and witty reconcilements ; as if
they would make an arbitremcnt between God and man. Both these
extremes arc to be avoided ; which will be done, if the league of Chris
tians, penned by our Saviour himself, were, in the two cross clauses
thereof, soundly and plainly expounded : "he that is not with us is
againat us :" and again, " he that is not against us is with us :" that is,
if the points fundamental, and of substance, in religion, were truly
discerned and distinguished from points not merely of faith, but of
opinion, order, or good intention. This is a thing may seem to many
a matter trivial, and done already; but if it were done less partially, it
would be embraced more generally.

Of this I may give only this advice, according to my small model.
Men ought to take heed of rending God's Church by two kinds of
controversies. The one is, when the matter of the point controverted
is too small and light, not worth the heat and strife about it, kindled
only by contradiction. For, as it is noted by one of the Fathers,
Christ's coat indeed had no seam ; but the Church's vesture was of
divers colours : whereupon he saith, " in veste varietas sit, scissura
bit;" they be two things, unity, and uniformity. The other is,

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

when the matter of the point controverted is great ; but it is driven
to an over-great subtilty and obscurity ; so that it becomcth a thing
rather ingenious than substantial. A man that is of judgment and
understanding shall sometimes hear ignorant men differ, and know
well within himself that those which so differ mean one thing, and yet
they themselves would never agree. And if it come so to pass in that
distance of judgment which is between man and man, shall we not
think that God above, that knows the heart, doth not discern that frail
men, in some of their contradictions, intend the same thing, and
acccptcth of both ? The nature of such controversies is excellently
expressed by St. Paul, in the warning and precept that he givcth con
cerning the same: " devita profanas vocum novitiates, et oppositioncs
falsi nominis sciential" Men create oppositions which are not ; and
put them into new terms so fixed, as, whereas the meaning ought to
govern the term, the term in effect govcrneth the meaning. There be
also two false peaces or unities : the one, when the peace is grounded
but upon an implicit ignorance ; for all colours will agree in the dark :
the other, when it is pieced up upon a direct admission of contraries
in fundamental points. For truth and falsehood, in such things, are
like the iron and clay in the toes of Nebuchadnezzar's image; they
may cleave, but they will not incorporate.

Concerning the means of procuring unity: men must beware, that
in the procuring or muniting of religious unity, they do not dissolve
and deface the laws of charity, and of human society. There be two
swords amongst Christians, the spiritual and temporal ; and both
have their due office and place in the maintenance of religion. But
we may not take up the third sword, which is Mahomet's sword, or
like unto it ; that is, to propagate religion by wars, or by sanguinary
persecutions to force consciences ; except it be in cases of overt scandal,
Blasphemy, or intermixture of practice against the state ; much less to
nourish seditions ; to authorize conspiracies and rebellions ; to put the
sword into the people's hands, and the like, tending to the subversion
of all government, which is the ordinance of God For this is but to
dash the first table against the second ; and so to consider men as
Christians, as we forget that they are men. Lucretius the poet, when
lie beheld the act of Agamemnon, that could endure the sacrificing of
his own daughter, exclaimed :

Tantum rcligio potuit suadcrc malorum.

What would he have said, if he had known of the massacre in France,
or the powder-treason of England? He would have been seven times
more epicure and atheist than he was : for as the temporal sword is to
be drawn with great circumspection, in cases of religion; so it is a
thing monstrous to put into the hands of the common people. Let
that be left unto the anabaptists and other furies. It was great blas
phemy, when the devil said, " I will ascend, and be like the Highest ;"
but it is greater blasphemy to personate God, and bring him in saying,
" I will descend, and be like the prince of darkness." And what is it
better to make the cause of religion to descend to the cruel and

CIVIL A\D MORAL.

execrable actions of murthcring princes, butchery of people, and sub
version of states and governments ? Surely, this is to bring down the
Holy Ghost, instead of the likeness of a dove, in the shape of a
vulture or raven: and to set, out of the bark of a Christian Church, a
flag of a bark of pirates and assassins. Therefore it is most necessary,
that the Church by doctrine and decree ; princes by their sword ; and
all learnings, both Christian and moral, as by their mercury rod : do
damn and send to hell for ever those facts and opinions, tending to
the support of the same ; as hath been already in good part done.
Surely in counsels concerning religion, that counsel of the apostle
Would be prefixed; " Ira hominis non implet justitiam Dei." And it
was a notable observation of a wise father, and no less ingeniously
confessed ; That those which held and persuaded pressure of con
sciences, were commonly interested therein themselves for their own
ends

IV. OF REVENGE.

Revenge is a hind of wild justice, which the more a man's nature
runs to, the more ought law to weed it out. For as for the first wrong,
it doth but offend the law ; but the revenge of that wrong putteth the
law out of office. Certainly in taking revenge, a man is but even with
his enemy ; but in passing it over, he is superior : for it is a prince's
part to pardon. And Solomon, I am sure, saith, " It is the glory of a
man to pass by an offence." That which is past is gone and irrevoc
able, and wise men have enough to do with things present and to come:
therefore they do but trifle with themselves that labour in past
matters. There is no man doth a wrong for the wrong's sake ; but
thereby to purchase himself profit, or pleasure, or honour, or the like.
Therefore why should I be angry with a man for loving himself better
than me ? And if any man should do wrong, merely out of ill-nature,
why, yet it is but like the thorn or brier, which prick or scratch,
because they can do no other. The most tolerable sort of revenge is
for those wrongs which there is no law to remedy : but then let a man
take heed the revenge be such as there is no law to punish ; else a
man's enemy is still beforehand, and it is two for one. Some, when
they take revenge, are desirous the party should know whence it
comcth : this is the more generous. For the delight seemeth to be
not so much in doing the hurt, as in making the party repent : but
base and crafty cowards are like the arrow that flieth in the dark.
Cosrnus, duke of Florence, had a desperate saying against perfidious
or neglecting friends, as if those wrongs were unpardonable. " You
shall read," saith he, " that we are commanded to forgive our enemies;
but you never read, that we are commanded to forgive our friends."
But yet the spirit of Job was in a better tune ; " Shall we," saith he,
•take good at God's hands, and not be content to take evil also?"
so of friends in a proportion. This is certain, that a man that
cth revenge, keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would
heal and do well. Public revenges are for the most part fortunate : as
that for the death of C;esar ; lor the death of Pertinax ; for the death

ESSA VS CIVIL AND MORAL. 7

of Henry the Third of France ; and many more : but in private
revenges it is not so ; nay, rather, vindicative persons live the life of
witches ; who as they are mischievous, so end they unfortunate.

V. OF ADVERSITY.

It was a high speech of Seneca, after the manner of the Stoics,
that the good things which belong to prosperity are to be wished, b i.
the good things that belong to adversity are to be admired : " Bona
rcrum secundarum optabilia, ad versa rum mirabilia." Certainly if
miracles be the command over nature, they appear most in adversity.
It is yet a higher speech of his than the other, much too high for a
heathen, It is true greatness to have in one the frailty of a man, and
the security of a God: "Vere magnum, habcre fragilitatem hominis,
securitatem Dei." This would have done better in poesy, where trans
cendencies are more allowed. And the poets indeed have been busy
with it ; for it is in effect the thing which is figured in that strange
fiction of the ancient poets, which sccmeth not to be without mystery ;
nay, and to have some approach to the state of a Christian : that
Hercules, when ho went to unbind Prometheus, by whom human
nature is represented, sailed the length of the great ocean in an earthcru
pot or pitcher ; lively describing Christian resolution, that sailcth in
the frail bark of the flesh through the waves of the world. But to
speak in a mean : the virtue of prosperity is temperance ; the virtue
of adversity is fortitude ; which in morals is the more hcroical virtue.
Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament ; adversity is the
blessing of the New, which carrieth the greater benediction, and the
clearer revelation of God's favour. Yet, even in the Old Testament,
if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as many hcarsc-likc aits
as carols : and the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath laboured more in
describing the afflictions of Job than the felicities of Solomon. Pros
perity is not without many fears and distates ; and adversity is not
without comforts and hopes. We see in needle-works and embroideries,
it is more pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad and solemn ground,
than to have a dark and melancholy work upon a lightsome ground :
judge therefore of the pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the eye.
Certainly virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when they arc
incensed or crushed ; for prosperity doth best discover vice, but
adversity doth best discover virtue.

VI. OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION.

Dissimulation is but a faint kind of policy, or wisdom ; for itaskcth
a strong wit, and a strong heart, to know when to tell truth and to do
it. Therefore it is the weaker sort of politicians that are the grea
dissemblers.

Tacitus saith, Livia sorted well with the arts of her husband, and
dissimulation of her son ; attributing arts or policy to Augustus, and
dissimulation to Tiberius. And again, when Mucianus encourageth
Vespasian to take arms against Vitellius, he saith ; \Ve rise not

ESS A ys CIVIL AND MORAL.

against the piercing judgment of Augustus, nor the extreme caution or
closeness of Tiberius. These properties of arts or policy, and dissimu
lation or closeness, are indeed habits and faculties several, and to be
distinguished. For if a man have that penetration of judgment as he
can dfsccrn what things are to be laid open, and what to be secreted,
and what to be showed at half-lights, and to whom and when, which
indeed are arts of state, and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them,
(o him a habit of dissimulation is a hinderance and a poorness. But
if a man cannot obtain to that judgment, then it is left to him, generally,
to be close and a dissembler. For where a man cannot choose, or vary
in particulars, there it is good to take the safest and wariest way in
general ; like the going softly by one that cannot well see. Certainly
the ablest men that ever were, have had all an openness and frankness
of dealing, and a name of certainty and veracity ; but then they were
like horses well managed ; for they could tell passing well when to stop
or turn : and at such times, when they thought the case indeed required
dissimulation, if then they used it, it came to pass, that the former
opinion spread abroad of their good faith and clearness of dealing
made them almost invisible.

There be three degrees of this hiding and veiling of a man's self.
The first, closeness, reservation, and secrecy, when a man leaveth him
self without observation, or without hold to be taken, what he is. The
second, dissimulation in the negative, when a man lets fall signs and
arguments, that he is not that he is. And a third, simulation in the
affirmative, when a man industriously and expressly feigns and pre
tends to be that he is not.

For the first of these, secrecy ; it is indeed the virtue of a con
fessor ; and assuredly the secret man hcareth many confessions ; for
who will open himself to a blab or a babbler ? but if a man be thought
secret, it inviteth discovery ; as the more close air sucketh in the more
open : and as in confession the revealing is not for worldly use, but for
the ease of a man's heart ; so secret men come to knowledge of many
things in that kind ; while men rather discharge their minds, than
impart their minds. In a few words, mysteries are due to secrecy.
Besides, to say truth, nakedness is uncomely as well in mind as body ;
and it addeth no small reverence to men's manners and actions if they
be not altogether open. As for talkers and futile persons, they are
commonly vain and credulous withal. For he that talketh what he
knoweth, will also talk what he knowcth not. Therefore set it down,
[hat a habit of secrecy is both politic and moral. And in this part it
* good that a man's face give his tongue leave to speak. For the
bcovcry of a man's self by the tracts of his countenance is a great

akness and betraying ; by how much it is many times more marked
and believed than man's words.

For the second, which is dissimulation; it followcth many times

n secrecy, by necessity : so that he that will be secret must be a

• in some degree. For men are too cunning to suffer a man

p an indifferent carriage between both, and to be secret, without

swaying the balance on either side. They will so beset a man with

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

questions, and draw him on, and pick it out of him, that, without an
absurd silence, he must show an inclination one way ; or if he do not,
they will gather as much by his silence as by his speech. As for equi
vocations, or oraculous speeches, they cannot hold out long. So that
no man can be secret, except he give himself a little scope of dissimu
lation, which is as it were but the skirts or train of secrecy.

But for the third degree, which is simulation and false profession ;
that I hold more culpable and less politic, except it be in great and
rare matters. And therefore a general custom of simulation, which is
this last degree, is a vice rising either of a natural falseness, or fearful-
ness, or of a mind that hath some main faults ; which because a man
must needs disguise, it makcth him practise simulation in other things,
lest his hand should be out of use.

The great advantages of simulation and dissimulation are three.
First, to lay asleep opposition, and to surprise. For where a man's
intentions are published, it is an alarm to call up all that are against
them. The second is, to reserve a man's self a fair retreat : for if a
man engage himself by a manifest declaration, he must go through,
or take a fall. The third is, the better to discover the mind of another.
For to him that opens himself, men will hardly show themselves
adverse : but will fair let him go on, and turn their freedom of speech
to freedom of thought. And therefore it is a good shrewd proverb of
the Spaniard, Tell a lie, and find a truth. As if there were no way of
discovery but by simulation. There be also three disadvantages to set
it even. The first, that simulation and dissimulation commonly carry
with them a show of fearfulncss, which in any business doth spoil the
feathers of round flying up to the mark. The second, that it puzzlcth
and perplcxcth the conceits of many, that perhaps would otherwise co
operate with him ; and makes a man walk almost alone, to his own
ends. The third and greatest is, that it dcprivcth a man of one of the
most principal instruments for action ; which is trust and belief. The
best composition and temperature is, to have openness in fame and
opinion ; secrecy in habit ; dissimulation in seasonable use ; and a
power to feign, if there be no remedy.

VII. OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN.

The joys of parents are secret ; and so arc their griefs and fears .
they cannot utter the one, nor they will not utter the other. Children
sweeten labours ; but they make misfortunes more bitter ; they in
crease the cares of life, but they mitigate the remembrance of deatlu
The perpetuity by generation is common to beasts ; but memory,
merit, and noble works, arc proper to men : and surely a man shall see
the noblest works and foundations have proceeded from childless men ;
which have sought to express the images of their minds, where those
of their bodies have failed : so the care of posterity is most in them
that have no posterity. They that are the first raisers of thci.' houses,
are most indulgent towards their children ; beholding them as the
continuance, not only of their kind, but of their work ; and so both
children and creatures.

ESS.-l YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

The difference in affection of parents towards their several children
is many times unequal; and sometimes unworthy; especially in the
mother; as Solomon saith, "A wise son rejoiceth the father, but an
ungracious son shames the mother." A man shall see, where there is
a house full of children, one or two of the eldest respected, and the
youngest made wantons ; but in the midst, some that arc as it were
forgotten, who many times nevertheless prove the best. The
illibcrality of parents in allowance towards their children, is ail
harmful error ; makes them base ; acquaints them with shifts ; makes
them sort with mean company ; and makes them surfeit more \vhcn
they come to plenty : and therefore the proof is best when men keep
their authority towards their children, but not their purse. Men have
a foolish manner, both parents, and schoolmasters, and servants, in
creating and breeding an emulation between brothers, during child
hood, which many times sorlcth to discord when they are men, and
dis'urbcth families. The Italians make little difference between
chiUhen and nephews, or near kinsfolks; but so they be of the lump
they care not, thou;.;h they pass not through their own body. And, to
say truth, in nature it is much a like matter ; insomuch that we see a
nephew sometimes rcscmbleth an uncle, or a kinsman, more than his
own parent ; as the blood happens. Let parents choose betimes the
vocations and courses they mean their children should take : tor then
they are m«M flexible : .uul let them not too much apply themselves to
the disposition ot their children, as thinking they will take best to that
\\hich they have most mind to. It is true, that if the affection or
nptncss of the children be extraordinary, then it is good not to cross
: but generally the precept is good. " Optimum clige, suave et facile
Hud facict consuetudo." Younger brothers are commonly fortunate,
but seldom or never where the elder are disinherited.

VI!!. OF MARRIAGE AXP SINGLE LIFE.

He that \\.\\\\ wife and children, luth given hostages to fortune ;
s to cre.u enterprises, either of virtue or

mischief. Certainly the be>t works and of greatest merit for the public,
eded Irom the unmarried or childless men : which both in
» have married and endowed the public. Yet it
wer gieat reason, that those that have children should have greatest
of future times ; unto which they know they must transmit their

care y now ey must transmt ter

it pledges Some there are, who though they lead a single life,
ts do end with themselves, and account future times
Nav, there are some other, that account wife and
ol charges. Nay more, there are some foolish

SicSS°£Tl'lKallake \pride in havins no chiKlrcn fc*™*

so much the richer. For perhaps thev have

i \vmCK 1 >' hVch,a °nc 1S a *rcat rich nwn ' ™d "Ste except
harge of children: as if it were &
is riches. Hut the most ordinary cause of a single life
Wdb an:"1*0 '''If. In <*"•»" self-pleasing and humourous minds,
h are so scns.ble of every restraint, as thev will fo near to think

CIVIL AND MORAL.

their girdles and Barters to be bonds and shackles. Unmarried men
are best friends, best masters, best servants, but not always best
subjects ; for they are light to run away ; and almost all fugitives arc
of that condition. A single life doth well with churchmen : for charity
will hardly water the ground, where it must first fill a pool. It is
indifferent for judges and magistrates: for if they be facile and cornipt,
you shall have a sen-ant five times worse than a wife. For soldiers,
I find the generals commonly, in their hortativcs, put men in mind of
their wives and children. And I think the despising of marriage
amongst the Turks, maketh the vulgar soldiers more base. Certainly,
wife and children are a kind of discipline of humanity ; and single
men, though they be many times more charitable, because their means
are less exhaust ; yet, on the other side, they arc more cruel and hard
hearted, good to make severe inquisitors, because their tenderness is
not so oft called upon. Grave natures, led by custom, and therefore
constant, arc commonly loving husbands : as was said of Ulysses,
vctulam sunm pnctulit immortalitati." Chaste women arc often proud
and froward, as presuming upon the merit of their chastity. It is one
of the best bonds, both of chastity and obedience, in the wife, if she
think her husband wise : which she will never do if she find him
jealous. Wives are young men's mistresses ; companions for middle
ages ; and old men's nurses. So as a man may have a quarrel to
marry when he will. But yet he was reputed one of the wise men, that
made answer to the question, when a man should marry? "A young
man not vet, an elder man not at all." It is often seen, that bad
husbands have very good wives ; whether it be, that it raiscth the
price of their husband's kindness when it comes ; or that the wives take
a pride in their patience. But this never fails if the bad husbands
were of their own chusing, against their friends' consent ; for then they
will be sure to make good their own folly.

IX. OF ENVY.

There be none of the affections which have been noted to fascinate
or bewitch, but love and envy. They both have vehement wishes ;
they frame themselves readily into imaginations and suggestions : and
they come easily into the eye ; especially upon the presence of the
objects ; which are the points that conduce to fascination, if any such
thing there be. We sec likewise, the Scripture callcth envy an evil
eye : and the astrologers call the evil influences of the stars, evil
aspects ; so that still there scemcth to be acknowledged in the act of
envy, an ejaculation, or irradiation of the eye. Nay, some have been
so curious, as to note, that the times when the stroke or percussion of
an envious eye doth most hurt, are, when the party envied is beheld in
glory or triumph ; for that sets an edge upon envy : and, besides, at
such times, the spirits of the person envied do come forth mo»t into
the outward parts, and so meet the blow.

But leaving these curiosities, though not unworthy to be thought
in fit place, we will handle, what persons are apt to envy others : what

CIVIL AND MORAL.

persons arc most subject to be envied themselves ; and what is the
difference between public and private envy.

A man that hath no virtue in himself, ever envieth virtue in others.
For men's minds will either feed upon their own good, or upon others'
evil ; and who wanteth the one, will prey upon the other : and whoso
is out of hope to attain to another's virtue, will seek to come at even
hand by depressing another's fortune.

A man that is busy and inquisitive, is commonly envious : for to
know murh of other men's matters cannot be, because all that ado may
concern his own estate : therefore it must needs be, that he taketh a
kind of play-pleasure in looking upon the fortunes of others ; neither
can he that mindeth but his own business find much matter for envy.
For envy is a gadding passion, and walketh the streets, and doth not
keep home ; u Non est curiosus, quin idem sit malevolus."

Men of noble birth are noted to be envious towards new men when
they rise : for the distance is altered : and it is like a deceit of the eye,
that when others come on, they think themselves go back.

Deformed persons and eunuchs, and old men and bastards, are
envious: for he that cannot possibly mend his own case, will do what
he can to impair another's ; except these defects light upon a very
brave and hcroical nature, which thinketh to make his natural wants
part of his honour ; in that it should be said, that an eunuch or a lame
man did such great matters ; affecting the honour of a miracle ; as it
was in Narses the eunuch, and Agesilaus and Tamerlane, that were
lame men.

The same is the case of men that rise after calamities and misfor
tunes ; for they are as men fallen out of the times ; and think other
men's harms a redemption of their own sufferings.

They that desire to excel in too many matters, out of levity and
vain-glory, are ever envious, for they cannot want work ; it being
impossible but many, in some one of those things, should surpass
them. Which was the character of Adrian the emperor, that mortally
envied poets, and painters, and artificers, in works wherein he had a
vein to excel.

Lastly, near kinsfolks, and fellows in office, and those that have

*cn bred together, are more apt to envy their equals when they are

I- or it doth upbraid unto them their own fortunes, and pointcth

em, and cometh oftcncr in their remembrance, and incurreth

: into the note of others ; and envy ever redoubleth from

fame Cain's envy was the more vile and malignant

brother Abel, because, when his sacrifice was better

aptVocn'v C WaS n°b0dy t0 10°k °"' ThuS much for those that are
Concerning those that are more or less subject to envy: First,
>f cmment virtue when they are advanced, are less envied
cr fortune sccmcth but due unto them; and no man envieth the

n, 1 tl !!' bUt rCWards' and Iiberality rather- AS*in envy is
Jith the comparing of a man's self; and where there iS no
no envy ; and therefore kings are not envied but by kings.

FSSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL. 13

Nevertheless it is to be noted, that unworthy persons are most envied
at their first coming in, and afterwards overcome it better ; whereas
contrariwise, persons of worth and merit arc most envied when their
fortune continueth long. For by that time, though their virtue be the
same, yet it hath not the same lustre ; for fresh men grow up that
darken it.

Persons of noble blood are less envied in their rising ; for it scemeth
but right done to their birth : besides, there scemcth not much added
to their fortune : and envy is as the sun-beams, that beat hotter upon
a bank or steep rising ground than upon a flat. And for the same
reason, those that are advanced by degrees, arc less envied than those
that are advanced suddenly, and per saltum.

Those that have joined with their honour, great travels, cares, or
perils, are less subject to envy : for men think that they earn their
honours hardly, and pity them sometimes ; and pity ever healethenvy :
wherefore you shall observe, that the more deep and sober sort ol
politic persons, in their greatness, are ever bemoaning themselves
what a life they lead, chanting a "Quanta patimur:" not that they
feel it so, but only to abate the edge of envy. But this is to be under
stood of business that is laid upon men, and not such as they call unto
themselves : for nothing increaseth envy more, than an unnecessary
•ind ambitious ingrossing of business : and nothing doth extinguish
envy more, than for a great person to preserve all other inferior officers
in their full rights and pre-eminences of their places : for by that means
there be so many screens between him and envy.

Above all, those are most subject to envy, which carry the great
ness of their fortunes in an insolent and proud manner: being never
well but while they are showing how great they are, either by outward
pomp, or by triumphing over all opposition or competition ; whereas
wise men will rather do sacrifice to envy, in suffering themselves some
times of purpose to be crossed and overborne in things that do not
much concern them. Notwithstanding, so much is true : that the
carriage of greatness in a plain and open manner, so it be without
arrogancy and vain-glory, doth draw less envy, than if it be in a more
crafty and cunning fashion. For in that course a man doth but dis
avow fortune, and scemcth to be conscious of his own want in worth,
and dothJMU teach others to envy him.

Lastly, to conclude this part ; as we said in the beginning, that the
act of envy had somewhat in it of witchcraft, so there is no other cure
of envy, but the cure of witchcraft : and that is, to remove the lot, as
they call it, and to lay it upon another. For which purpose, the wiser
sort of great persons bring in ever upon the stage somebody upon
whom to derive the envy that would come upon themselves : some
times upon ministers and servants, sometimes upon colleagues and
associates, and the like : and for that turn, there arc never wanting
some persons of violent and undertaking natures, who, so they may
have power and business, will take it at any cost.

Now to speak of public envy. There is yet some good in public
envy, whereas in private there is none. For public envy is as an ostra-

: \

£$$A YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

cism, that eclipseth men when they grow too great : and therefore it is
a bridle also to great ones, to keep them within bounds.

This envy, being in the Latin word invidia, gocth in the modem
languages by the name of discontent ; of which we shall speak in hand
ling sedition. It is a disease in a state like to infection : for as infec
tion spreadeth upon that which is sound, and tainteth it ; so when envy
is gotten once into a state, it traduceth even the best actions thereof,
and turneth them into an ill odour ; and therefore there is little won
by intermingling of plausible actions : for that doth argue but a weak
ness and fear of envy, which hurteth so much the more ; as it is like
wise usual in infections, which if you fear them, you call them upon
you.

This public envy seemeth to beat chiefly upon principal officers or
ministers, rather than upon kings and estates themselves. But this
is a sure rule, that if the envy upon the minister be great, when
the cause of it in him is small ; or if the envy be general in a manner
upon all the ministers of an estate, then the envy, though hidden, is
truly upon the estate itself. And so much of public envy or discon
tentment, and the difference thereof from private envy, which was
handled in the first place.

We will add this in general touching the affection of envy : that of
all other affections it is the most importune and continual : for of other
affections there is occasion given but now and then ; and therefore it
is well said, " Invidia festos dies non agit : " for it is ever working upon
some other. And it is also noted, that love and envy do make a man
pine, which other affections do not, because they are not so continual.

It is also the vilest affection, and the most depraved ; for which
cause it is the proper attribute of the devil, who is called, " the envious
man, that soweth tares among the wheat by night : " as it always
cometh to pass, that envy worketh subtilly, and in the dark ; and to
the prejudice of good things, such as is the wheat.

X. OF LOVE.

The stage is more beholden to love, than the life of man. For as
to the stage, love is ever a matter of comedies, and now and then of
tragedies ; but in life it doth much mischief, sometimes like a siren,
sometimes like a fury. You may observe, that amongst all the great
and worthy persons, whereof the memory rcmaineth, either ancient or
recent, there is not one that hath been transported to the mad degree
of love ; which shows, that great spirits and great business do keep out
this weak passion. You must except nevertheless Marcus Antonius
the half partner of the empire of Rome, and Appius Claudius the
decemvir and lawgiver ; whereof the former was indeed a voluptuous
man and inordinate ; but the latter was an austere and wise man : and
therefore it seems, though rarely, that love can find entrance, not only
into an open heart, but also into a heart well fortified, if watch be not
well kept. It is a poor saying of Epicurus ; " Satis magnum alter alter!
theatrum sumus : " as if man, made for the contemplation of heaven,

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL. , 5

and all noble objects, should do nothing but kneel before a little idol,
;md make himself subject, though not of the mouth, as beasts are, yet of
the eye, which was given him for higher purposes. It is a strange
thing to note the excess of this passion ; and how it braves the natu7e
and value of things by this, that the speaking in a perpetual hyperbole
is comely in nothing but in love. Neither is it merely in the phrase ;
for whereas it hath been well said, that the arch flatterer, with whom
all the petty flatterers have intelligence, is a man's self; certainly the
lover is more. For there was never proud man thought so absurdly
well of himself as the lover doth of the person loved ; and therefore it
was well said, that it is impossible to love, and to be wise. Neither
doth this weakness appear to others only, and not to the party loved,
but to the loved most of all ; except the love be reciproque. For it is
a true rule, that love is ever rewarded either with the reciproque, or
with an inward and secret contempt : by how much the more men
ought to beware of this passion, which loscth not only other things but
itself. As for the other losses, the poet's relation doth well figure them ;
that he that preferred Helena, quitted the gifts of Juno and Pallas :
for whosoever esteemeth too much of amourous affection, quitteth
both riches and wisdom. This passion hath its floods in the very
times of weakness, which are great prosperity, and great adversity ;
though this latter hath been less observed : which both times kindle
love, and make it more fervent, and therefore, show it to be the child
of folly. They do best, who, if they cannot but admit love, yet make
it keep quarter ; and sever it wholly from their serious affairs and
actions of life : for if it check once with business, it troublcth men's
fortunes, and maketh men that they can no ways be true to their own
ends. I know not how, but martial men arc given to love : I think it
is, but as they are given to wine ; for perils commonly ask to be paid
in pleasures. There is in man's nature a secret inclination and motion
towards love of others, which, if it be not spent upon some one or a
few, doth naturally spread itself towards many, and maketh men to
become humane and charitable ; as it is seen sometimes in friers. Nup
tial love maketh mankind ; friendly love pcrfecteth it ; but wanton love
-corrupteth and embascth it.

XI. OF C.KI.AT I'l.ACE.

Men in great place are thrice servants : servants of the sovereign
•or state; servants of fame; and servants of business : so as they have
no freedom, neither in their persons, nor in their actions, nor in thoir
times. It is a strange desire, to seek power, and to lose liberty; or
to seek power over others, and to lose power over a man's self. The
'rising unto place is laborious; and by pains men come to greater
pains; and it is sometimes base; and by indignities men come to
dignities. The standing is slippery, and the regress is cither a down
fall, or at least an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing. "Cum non
sis qui fucris, non esse cur velis vivcre?" Nay, retire men cannot
•when they would; neither will they when it were reason; but arc im-

16 ESSA YS CIVIL AND MOKA-.

patient of privateness, even in age and sicknes.5, which require the
shadow : like old townsmen, that will be still sitting at their street
door, though thereby they offer age to scorn. Certainly great peisons
bad need to borrow other men's opinions to think themselves happy ;
for if they judge by their own feeling, they cannot find it ; but if they
think with themselves what other men think of them, and that other
men would fain be as they are, then they are happy as it were by
report, when perhaps they find the contrary within. For they are the
first that find their own griefs ; though they be the last that find their
own faults. Certainly men in great fortunes are strangers to them
selves, and while they are in the puzzle of business, they have no time
to tend their health either of body or mind. " I Hi mors gravis incubat,
qui notus nimis omnibus, ignotus moritur sibi." In place there is
licence to do good and evil ; whereof the latter is a curse ; for in evil
the best condition is not to will ; the second not to can. But power
to do good is the true and lawful end of aspiring. For good thoughts,
though God accept them, yet towards men are little better than good
dreams, except they be put in act ; and that cannot be without power
and place ; as the vantage and commanding ground. Merit and good
Morks is the end of man's motion ; and conscience of the same is the
accomplishment of man's rest. For if a man can be partaker of God's
theatre, he shall likewise be partaker of God's rest. " Et converses
Dcus, ut aspicerct opera, qua? fecerunt manus suse, vidit quod omnia
cssent bona nimis;" and then the sabbath. In the discharge of thy
place, set before thcc the best examples ; for imitation is a globe of
precepts. And after a time set before thee thine own example ; and
examine thyself strictly, whether thou didst not best at first. Neglect
not also the examples of those that have carried themselves ill in the
same place ; not to set off thyself by taxing their memory; but to direct
thyself what to avoid. Reform, therefore, without bravery or scandal
of former times and persons ; but yet set it down to thyself, as well to
create good precedents, as to follow them. Reduce things to the first
institution, and observe wherein and how they have degenerated; but
yet ask counsel of both times : of the ancient time what is best ; and
of the latter time what is fittest. Seek to make thy course regular :
that men may know beforehand what they may expect : but be not too
positive and peremptory ; and express thyself well when thou digressest
from thy rule. Preserve the right of thy place, but stir not questions
liction : and rather assume thy right in silence, and de facto,
than voice it with claims and challenges. Preserve likewise the rights
f inferior places : and think it more honour to direct in chief than
to be busy in all. Embrace and invite helps and advices touching the
execution of thy place : and do not drive away such as bring thee in-
ition, as meddlers, but accept of them in good part. The vices
•f authority are chiefly four; delays, corruption, roughness, and facility,
ar delays : give easy access ; keep times appointed ; go through with
that which is m hand ; and interlace not business but of necessity.
>r corruption : do not only bind thine own hands, or thy servant's
nd, from taking, but bind the hands of suitors also from offering.

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL ,7

For integrity used doth the one ; but integrity professed, and with a
manifest detestation of bribery, doth the other: and avoid not only the
fault, but the suspicion. Whosoever is found variable, and changeth
manifestly without manifest cause, givcth suspicion of corruption.
Therefore always when thou changest thine opinion or course, profess
it plainly, and declare it, together with the reasons that move thce to
change ; and do not think to steal it. A servant ora favourite, if he be
inward, and no other apparent cause of esteem, is commonly thought
but a bye-way to close corruption. For roughness, it is a needless
cause of discontent ; severity breecleth fear, but roughness brecdcth
hate. Even reproofs from authority ought to be grave, and not taunt
ing. As for facility, it is worse than bribery. For bribes come but
now and then; but if importunity or idle respects lead a man, he shall
never be without. As Solomon saith : " to respect persons is not
good ; for such a man will transgress for a piece of bread." It is mo- 1
true that was anciently spoken, " A place showcth the man :" and it
showeth some to the better, and some to the worse ; " omnium con-
sensu, capax imperii, nisi imperasset," saith Tacitus of Galba : but of
Vespasian he saith, " solus imperantium Vcspasianus mutatus in
melius." Though the one was meant of sufficiency, the other of
manners and affection. It is an assured sign of a worthy and generous
spirit, whom honour amends: For honour is, or should be, the place
of virtue : and as in nature things move violently to (heir place, and
calmly in their place ; so virtue in ambition is violent, in authority
settled and calm. All rising to great place is by a winding-stair ;
and if there be factions, it is good to side a man's self whilst he is in
the rising ; and to balance himself when he is placed. Use the memory
of thy predecessor fairly and tenderly; for if thou dost not, it is a debt
will sure be paid when thou art gone. If thou have colleagues,
respect them, and rather call them when they look not for it, than
exclude them when they have reason to look to be called. He not too
sensible, or too remembering of thy place in conversation, and private
answers to suitors: but let it rather be said, When he sits in place he
is another man.

XII. OF UOLDNI.SS.

It is a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worthy a wise man's
consideration. Question was asked of Demosthenes, what was the
chief part of an orator? He answered, Action. What next? —
Action. What next again ?— Action. He said it that knew it best;
and had by nature himself no advantage in that he commended. A
strange thing, that that part of an orator, which is but superficial,
and rather the virtue of a player, should be placed so high above those
other noble parts of invention, elocution, and the rest : nay, almost
alone, as if it were all in all. Hut the reason is plain. There is in
human nature, generally, more of the fool than of the wise ; and there
fore those faculties by which the foolish part of men's minds is taken,
are most potent. Wonderful like is the case of boldness in civil busi
ness ; what first?— Boldness. What second and third ?— Boldness,

1 8 ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

And yet boldness is a child of ignorance and baseness, far inferior to
other parts. But nevertheless it doth fascinate, and bind hand and
foot those that are either shallow in judgment or weak in courage,
which are the greatest part ; yea, and prevaileth with wise men at
weak times : therefore we see it hath clone wonders in popular states,
but with senates and princes less ; and more ever upon the first
entrance of bold persons into action, than soon after ; for boldness is
an ill keeper of promise. Surely, as there are mountebanks for the
natural body, so there are mountebanks for the politic body : men
that undertake great cures, and perhaps have been lucky in two or
three experiments, but want the grounds of science, and therefore
cannot hold out : nay, you shall see a bold fellow many times do
Mahomet's miracle. Mahomet made the people believe that he
would call an hill to him, and from the top of it offer up prayers for the
observers of his law. The people assembled : Mahomet called the hill
to come to him again and again ; and when the hill stood still he was
never a whit abashed, but said, " If the hill will not come to Mahomet,
Mahomet will go to the hill." So these men, when they have promised
great matters, failed most shamefully, yet, if they have the perfection
of boldness, they will but slight it over, and make a turn, and no more
ado. Certainly to men of great judgment bold persons are a sport to
behold ; nay, and to the vulgar also boldness hath somewhat of the
ridiculous : for if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you not
but great boldness is seldom without some absurdity : especially it is
a sport to sec when a bold fellow is out of countenance, for that puts
his face into a most shrunken and wooden posture, as needs it must ;
for in bashfulncss the spirits do a little go and come ; but with bold
men, upon like occasion, they stand at a stay j like a stale at chess,
where it is no mate, but yet the game cannot stir : but this last were
fitter for a satire, than for a serious observation. This is well to be
weighed, that boldness is ever blind ; for it seeth not dangers and
inconveniences: therefore it is ill in counsel, good in execution: so
that the right use of bold persons is, that they never command in
chief, but be seconds, and under the direction of others. For in
counsel it is good to sec dangers j and in execution not to see them,
except they be very great.

XIII. OF GOODNESS, AND GOODNESS OF NATURE.

I take goodness in this sense, the affecting of the weal of men,
which is that the Grecians ca\\philanthropia; and the word humanity,
as it is used, is a little too light to express it. Goodness I call the
habit, and goodness of nature the inclination. This of all virtues and
dignities of the mind is the greatest, being the character of the Deity ;
and without it man is a busy, mischievous, wretched thing, no better
than a kind of vermin. Goodness answers to the theological virtue
charity, and admits no excess but error. The desire of power in excess
caused the angels to fall ; the desire of knowledge in excess caused
man to fall : but in charity there is no excess, neither can angel or

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL. 19

man come in danger by it. The inclination to goodness is imprinted
deeply in the nature of man ; insomuch, that if it issue not towards
men, it will take unto other living creatures} as it is seen in the Turks,
a cruel people, who nevertheless are kind to beasts, and give alms to
dogs and birds : insomuch, as Busbechius reporteth, a Christian boy
in Constantinople had like to have been stoned, for gagging, in a
waggishness, a long-billed fowl. Errors, indeed, in this virtue of good
ness or charity may be committed. The Italians have an ungracious
proverb ; " Tanto buon che val niente ;" So good that he is good
for nothing. And one of the doctors of Italy, Nicholas Machiavcl,
had the confidence to put in writing, almost in plain terms, that tho
Christian faith had given up good men in prey to those that are tyran
nical and unjust : which he spake, because indeed there was never
law, or sect, or opinion, did so much magnify goodness as the Christian
religion doth : therefore to avoid the scandal and the danger both, it
is good to take knowledge of the Qrrors of an habit so excellent. Seek
the good of other men, but be not in bondage to their faces or fancies ;
for that is but facility or softness which taketh an honest mind
prisoner. Neither give thou yEsop's cock a gem, who would be better
pleased and happier if he had a barley-corn. The example of God
teachcth the lesson truly \ " he scndcth his rain and makcth his sun
to shine upon the just and the unjust ;" but he doth not rain wealth
nor shine honour and virtues upon men equally : common benefits arc
to be communicated with all, but peculiar benefits with choice. And
beware, how in making the portraiture thou breakest the pattern : for
divinity maketh the love of ourselves the pattern, the love of our neigh
bours but the portraiture : " Sell all thou hast, and give it to the poor,
and follow me." But sell not all thou hast, except thou come and
follow me ; that is, except thou have a vocation, wherein thou maycst
do as much good with little means as with great : for otherwise, in
feeding the streams thou driest the fountain. Neither is there only
a habit of goodness directed by right reason ; but there is in some
men, even in nature, a disposition towards it i as on the other side
there is a natural malignity. For there be that in their nature do not
affect the good of others. The lighter sort of malignity turncth but to
a crossness, or frowardness, or aptness to oppose, or difticilcncss, or
the like, but the deeper sort to envy and mere mischief. Such men, in
other men's calamities, arc as it were in season, and are ever on the
loading part : not so good as the dogs that licked Lazarus' sores, but
like flies that are still buzzing upon anything that is raw; Misanthropi,
that make it their practice to bring men to the bough, and yet have
never a tree for the purpose in their gardens, as Timon had. Such
dispositions arc the very errors of human nature, and yet they arc the
fittest timber to make great 'politics of; like to knee-timber, that is
good for ships that arc ordained to be tossed, but not for building
houses that shall stand firm. The parts and signs of goodness are
many. If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is
a citizen of the world, and that his heart is no island cut oft' from
other lands, but a continent that joins to them. If he be compassionate

ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL,

towards the afflictions of others, it shows that his heart is like the
noble tree that is wounded itself when it gives the balm. If he easily
pardons and remits offences, it shows that his mind is planted above
injuries, so that he cannot be shot. If he be thankful for small
benefits, it shows that he weighs men's minds, and not their trash.
But above all, if he have St. Paul's perfection, that he would wish to
be an anathema from Christ for the salvation of his brethren, it shows
much of a divine nature, and a kind of conformity with Christ himself.

XIV. OF NOBILITY.

We will speak of nobility first as a portion of an estate, then as a
condition of particular persons. A monarchy, where there is nc
nobility at all, is ever a pure and absolute tyranny ; as that of the
Turks ; for nobility attempers sovereignty, and draws the eyes of the
people somewhat aside from the line royal. But for democracies,
they need it not ; and they are commonly more quiet, and less subject
to sedition, than where there are stirps of nobles ; for men's eyes are
upon the business, and not upon the persons : or if upon the persons,
it is for the business' sake, as fittest, and not for flags and pedigree.
We see the Switzers last well, notwithstanding their diversity of
religion, and of cantons ; for utility is their bond, and not respects.
The United Provinces of the Low Countries, in their government,
excel : for where there is an equality, the consultations are more
indifferent, and; the payments and tributes more cheerful. A great
and potent nobility addcth majesty to a monarch, but diminisheth
power ; and putteth life and spirit into the people, but presseth their
fortune. It is well when nobles are not too great for sovereignty, nor
for justice ; and yet maintained in that height, as the insolcncy of
inferiors may be broken upon them, before it come on too fast
upon the majesty of kings. A numerous nobility causeth poverty and
inconvenience in a state, for it is a surcharge of cxpcnce ; and besides,
it being of necessity that many of the nobility fall in time to be weak
in fortune, it makcth a kind of disproportion between honour and
means.

As for nobility in particular persons : it is a reverend thing to sec
an ancient castle or building not in decay : or to sec a fair timber tree
sound and perfect ; how much more to behold an ancient and noble
family, which hath stood against the waves and weathers of time ? for
new nobility is '.he act of power, but ancient nobility is the act of time.
Those that are first raised to nobility, are commonly more virtuousj
but less innocent than their descendants; for there is rarely any
rising, but by a commixture of good and evil arts : but it is reason
the memory of their virtues remain to their posterity, and their faults
die with themselves. Nobility of birth commonly abateth industry ; and
he that is not industrious envieth him that is. Besides, noble persons
cannot go much higher; and he that standeth at a stay, when others
rise, can hardly avoid motions of envy. On the other side, nobility
extinguished the passive envy from others towards them, because
are in possession of honour. Certainly kings that have able men

ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL. 21

of their nobility, shall find ease in employing them, and a better slide
into their business : for people naturally bend to them, as born in
some sort to command.

XV. OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES.

Shepherds of people had need know the kalcndars of tempests in
state ; which are commonly greatest when things grow to equality : as
natural tempests are greatest about the cquinoctia. And as there arc
certain hollow blasts of wind, and secret swellings of seas, before a
tempest, so are there in states :

I He etiam cxcos instare tumultus
Saepc monct, fraudcsquc ct opcrta tumescere belln.

Libels and licentious discourses against the state, when they arc
frequent and open, and in like sort false news often running up and
down to the disadvantage of the state, and hastily embraced, are
amongst the signs of troubles. Virgil giving the pedigree of Fame,
saith, she was sister to the giants.

* II lair. Terra parens, ira irritata Deorum,
Kxtrcnum, lit pcrhibent, Ca.-o Encclacloquc sororcm
Progenuit.

As if fames were the relicks of seditions past: but they arc no less
indeed the preludes of seditions to come. Howsoever he notcth it
right, that seditious tumults, and seditious fames, differ no more, but
as brother and sister, masculine and feminine ; especially if it come
to that, that the best actions of a state, and the most plausible, and
which ought to give greatest contentment, are taken in ill sense and
traduced: for that shows the envy great, as Tacitus saith; "conilata
magna invidia, sen bene, scu male, gcsta prcmunt." Neither doth it
follow, that because these fames are a sign of troubles, that the sup
pressing of them with too much severity would be a remedy of
troubles. For the despising of them many times checks them l^cst :
and the going about to stop them, doth but make a wonder long-lived.
Also that kind of obedience which Tacitus speaketh of, is to be held
suspected ; u Erant in ofticio, sed tamen qui mallent mandata impe-
rantium interpretari quam exequi ;" disputing, excusing, cavilling
upon mandates, and directions, is a kind of shaking off the yoke, and
assay of disobedience : especially if in those disputings, they which
arc for the direction, speak fearfully and tenderly and those that arc
against it, audaciously.

Also, as Machiavel notcth well, when princes, that ought to be
common parents, make themselves as a party, lean to a side, it is as a
boat that is overthrown by uneven weight on the one side : as was well
seen in the time of Henry the Third of France ; for first, himself
entered league for the extirpation of the protcstants ; and presently
after the same league was turned upon himself. For when the
authority of princes is made but an accessary to a cause, and tlui

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

be there other bands, that tie faster than the band of sovereignty,
kings begin to be put almost out of possession.

Also, when discords and quarrels, and factions are carried openly
and audaciously, it is a sign the reverence of government is lost. For
the motions of the greatest persons in a government ought to be as the
motions of the planets under primum mobile, according to the old
opinion ; which is, that every of them is carried swiftly by the highest
motion, and softly in their own motion. And therefore when great
ones in their own particular motion move violently, and, as Tacitus
expresseth it well, " liberius, quam tit imperantium meminissent ; ;; it
is a sign the orbs are out of frame. For reverence is that wherewith
princes are girt from God, who thrcateneth the dissolving thereof ;
" solvam cingula regum."

So when any of the four pillars of government are mainly shaken
or weakened, which are religion, justice, counsel, and treasure, men
had need to pray for fair weather. But let us pass from this part of
predictions, concerning which, nevertheless, more light may be taken
from that which followeth, and let us speak first of the materials of
seditions ; then of the motives of them ; and thirdly, of the remedies.

Concerning the materials of seditions. It is a thing well to be
considered ; for the surest way to prevent seditions, if the times do
bear it, is to take away the matter of them. For if there be fuel pre
pared, it is hard to tell whence the spark shall come that shall set it
on fire. The matter of seditions is of two kinds : much poverty, and
much discontentment. It is certain, so many overthrown estates, so
many votes for troubles. Lucan noteth well the state of Rome before
the civil war :

Ilinc usura vorax, rapidumque in tern pore fbenus,
Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum.

This same " multis utile bellum " is an assured and infallible sign of
a state disposed to seditions and troubles. And if this poverty and
broken estate in the better sort be joined with a want and necessity in
the mean people, the danger is eminent and great. For the rebellions
of the belly are the worst. As for discontentments, they are in the
politic body like to humours in the natural, which arc apt to gather a
preternatural heat and to inflame. And let no prince measure the
danger of them by this ; whether they be just or unjust ; for that were
to imagine people to be too reasonable ; who do often spurn at their
own good ; nor yet by this : whether the griefs whereupon they rise be in
fact great or small. For they arc the most dangerous discontentments,
where the fear is greater than the feeling. " Dolcndi modus, timcndi
non item." Besides, in great oppressions, the same things that pro-
ic patience, do withal mate the courage ; but in fears it is not
so. Neither let any prince or state be secure concerning discontent
ments, because they have been often, or have been long, and yet no
hath ensued : for as it is true that every vapour, or fume, doth
: turn into a storm : so it is nevertheless true, that storms, though
they blow over divers times, yet may fall at last ; and as the Spanish
proverb noteth well, the cord brcaketh at the last by the weakest pull

JiSSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

The causes and motives of seditions are, innovation in religion,
taxes, alteration of laws and customs, breaking of privileges, general
oppression, advancement of unworthy persons, strangers, dearths, dis
banded soldiers, factions grown desperate ; and whatsoever in offending
people joincth and knitteth them in a common cause.

For the remedies, there may be some general preservative, whereof
\vc will speak ; as for the just cure, it must answer to the particular
disease : and so be left to counsel, rather than rule.

The first remedy or prevention, is to remove by all means possible
that material cause of sedition, whereof we spake ; which is want and
poverty in the estate. To which purpose scrveth the opening and well
balancing of trade ; the cherishing of manufactures ; the banishing of
idleness ; the repressing of waste and excess by sumptuary laws ; the
improvement and husbanding of the soil ; the regulating of prices of
things vendible : the moderating of taxes and tributes, and the like.
Generally it is to be foreseen, that the population of a kingdom, espe
cially if it be not mown down by wars, do not exceed the stock of the
kingdom which should maintain them. Neither is the population to
be reckoned only by number : for a smaller number, that spend more,
and earn less, do wear out an estate sooner than a greater number
that live lower and gather more. Therefore the multiplying of nobility,
and other degrees of quality, in an over proportion to the common
people, doth speedily bring a state to necessity : and so doth likewise
an overgrown clergy ; for they bring nothing to the stock : and in
like manner, when more are bred scholars, than preferments can
take off.

It is likewise to be remembered, that forasmuch as the Increase of
any estate must be upon the foreigner, for whatsover is somewhere
gotten is somewhere lost, there be but three things which one nation
seHcth unto another ; the commodity as nature yieldcth it ; the manu
facture ; and the vecture or carriage. So that if these three wheels
go, wealth will flow as in a spring tide. And it cometh many times to
pass, that " materiam supcrabit opus," that the work and carriage is
more worth than the material, and cnrichcth a state more ; as is not
ably seen in the Low-Countrymen, who have the best mines above
ground in the world.

Above all things good policy is to be used, that the treasure and
moneys in a state be not gathered into few hands. For otherwise a
state may have a great stock, and yet starve. And money is like muck,
not good except it be spread. This is done chicily by suppressing, or
at the least keeping a strait hand upon, the devouring trades of usury,
ingrossing, great pasturages, and the like.

For removing discontentments, or at least the danger of them :
there is in every state, as we know, two portions of subjects, the
noblesse, and the commonalty. When one of these is discontent, the
danger is not great : for common people arc of slow motion, if they
be not excited by the greater sort ; and the greater sort arc of small
strength, except the multitude be apt and ready to move of themselves.
Then is the danger, when the greater sort do but wait for the troubling

24 ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

of the waters amongst the meaner, that then they may declare them-
selves. The poets feign, that the rest of the gods would have bound
Jupiter; which he hearing of, by the counsel of Pallas, sent for
ISriareus with his hundred hands to come in to his aid. An emblem,
no doubt, to show, how safe it is for monarchs to make sure of the
good will of common people.

To give moderate liberty for griefs and discontentments to evapo
rate, so it be without too great insolency or bravery, is a safe way.
For he that turncth the humours back, and maketh the wound bleed
inwards, endangcreth malign ulcers, and pernicious impostumations.

The part of Epimethcus might well become Prometheus, in the
case of discontentments, for there is not a better provision against
them. Epimethcus, when griefs and evils flew abroad, at last shut the
lid, and kept Hope in the bottom of the vessel. Certainly the politic
and artificial nourishing and entertaining of hopes, and carrying men
iVorn hopes to hopes, is one of the best antidotes against the poison of
discontentments. And it is a certain sign of a wise government and
proceeding, when it can hold men's hearts by hopes, when it cannot by
satisfaction : and when it can handle things in such manner, as no
evil shall appear so peremptory, but that it hath some outlet of hope;
which is the less hard to do, because both particular persons and factions
arc apt enough to flatter themselves, or at least to brave that which
they believe not.

Also, the foresight and prevention that there be no likely or fit
head, whcrcunto discontented persons may resort, and under whom
they may join, is a known but an excellent point of caution. I under
stand a fit head to be one that hath greatness and reputation ; that
hath confidence with the discontented party, and upon whom they turn
their eyes ; and that is thought discontented in his own particular :
which kind of persons are cither to be won and reconciled to the state,
and that in a fast and true manner ; or to be fronted with some other
of the same party that may oppose them, and so divide the reputation.
Generally, the dividing and breaking of all factions and combinations
that arc adverse to the state, and setting them at distance, or at least
distrust amongst themselves, is not one of the worst remedies. For it
is a desperate case, if those that hold with the proceedings of the state,
be full of discord and faction ; and those that are against it be entire
and united.

I have noted, that some witty and sharp speeches which have fallen
from princes, have given fire to seditions. Caesar did himself infinite
hurt in that speech ; " Sylla nescivit literas, non potuit dictare :" for it
did utterly cut off that hope which men had entertained, that he would
at one time or other give over his dictatorship. Galba undid himself
by that speech ; "Legi a se militem, non emi : " for it put the soldiers
out of the hope of the donative. Probus likewise by that speech, " Si
vixero, non opus erit amplius Romano imperio militibus ; " a speech of
great despair for the soldiers : and many the like. Surely, princes had
need, in tender matters and ticklish times, to beware what they say ;
especially in these short speeches, which fly abroad like darts, and are

ESSAYS CIVIL A\D MORAL

thought to be shot out of their secret intentions, For, as for large
discourses, they arc flat things, and not so much noted.

Lastly, let princes, against all events, not be without some great
person, one, or rather more, of military valour near unto them, for the
repressing of seditions in their beginnings. For without that, there
useth to be more trepidation in court upon the first breaking out of
troubles, than were fit. And the state runneth the danger of that
which Tacitus saith, "atquc is habitus animorum fuit, ut pcssimum
facinus auderent pauci, plures vellcnt. omnes paterentur." IJut let such
military persons be assured and well reputed of, rather than factious
and popular; holding also good correspondence with the other great
men in the state ; or else the remedy is worse than the disease,

XVI. OK ATIIK.ISM.

I had rather believe all the fables in the Legend, and the Talmud,
and the Alcoran, than that this universal frame is without a mind.
And therefore God never wrought miracle to convince atheism,
because his ordinary works convince it. It is true, that a little philo
sophy inclincth man's mind to atheism ; but depth in philosophy
bringcth men's minds about to religion : for while the mind of man
lookcth upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them,
and go no farther ; but when it beholdcth the chain of them confede
rate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity.
Nay, even that school which is most accused of atheism, doth most
demonstrate religion ; that is, the school of Lcucippus, and Demo-
critus, and Epicurus. For it is a thousand times more credible, that
four mutable elements, and one immutable fifth essence duly and
eternally placed, need no God ; than that an army of infinite small
portions, or seeds unplaced, should have produced this order and
beauty without a divine marshal. The Scripture saith, " The fool hath
said in his heart, There is no God : " it is not said, " the fool hath
thought in his heart." So as he rather saith it by rote to himself, as
that he would have, than that he can thoroughly believe it, or be
pcrs.i.Klcd of it. For none deny there is a God, but those for
whoir it maketh that there were no (Joel. It appcarcth in nothing
more, that atheism is rather in the lip than in the heart of man, than
by this ; that atheists will ever be talking of that their opinion, as if
they fainted in it within themselves, and would be glad to be
strengthened by the consent of others: nay more, you shall have
atheists strive to get disciples, as it farcth with other sects : and,
which is most of all, you shall have of them that will suffer for atheism,
and not recant ; whereas if they did truly think that there were no such
thing as God, why should they trouble themselves? Kpicurus is
charged, that he did but dissemble, for his credit's sake, when he
affirmed there were blessed natures, but such as enjoyed themselves
without having respect to the government of the world. Wherein thcv
say he did temporize, though in secret he thought there was no GoO.
13ut certainly he is traduced; for his words arc noble and duine :

KSSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

" Non dcos vulgi ncgarc profamun ; scd vulgi opinioncs cliis applicare
profanum." Plato could have said no more. And although he had
the confidence to deny the administration, he had not the power to
deny the nature. The Indians of the west have names for their par-
ticulargods, though they have no name I'm- Cod ; as if the heathens
should have had the names Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, etc., but not the
word AV/.V : which shows, that even those barbarous people have the
notion, though they have not the latitude and extent of it. So that
against atheists the very savages take part with the very suhtilcst
philosophers. The contemplative atheist is rare ; a Diagoras, a IJion,
a Lucian perhaps, and some others ; and yet they seem to be more
lhan they are ; for that all that impugn a received religion, or super
stition, are by the adverse part branded with the name of atheists.
Itut the great atheists indeed are hypocrites ; which are ever handling
holy things, but without feel in;.; ; so as they must needs be cauterized
in the (Mid. The causes of atheism arc ; divisions in religion, if they
be many ; for any one main division addeth 7.cal to both sides ; but
many divisions introduce atheism. Another is, scandal of priests;
when it is come to that which S. I'.ernard saith, "non cst jam dicerc,
ut populus, sic sacerdos : quia nee sic populus, tit saccrdos." A third
is, custom of profane scoffing in holy matters ; which doth by little
and little deface the reverence of religion. And lastly, learned times,
especially with peace and prosperity : for troubles and adversities do
more bow men's minds to religion. They that deny a Cod destroy
man's nobility : for certainly mail is of kin to the beasts by his body ;
and if he be not of kin to Cod by his spirit, he is a base and ignoble
creature. It destroys likewise magnanimity, and the raising of human
nature: for take an example of a dog, and mark what a generosity and
courage he will put on, when he tinds himself maintained by a man ;
who to him is instead of a (iod, or melior nalura : which courage is
manifestly such, as that creature, without that confidence of a better
nature than his o\\n, could never attain. So man, when he rcstcth
and assureth himself upon divine protection and favour, gathcrcth a
force and faith, which human nature in itself could not obtain : there
fore as atheism is in all respects hateful, so in this, that it dcpriveth
human nature of the means to exalt itself above human frailty. As it
is in particular persons, so it is in nations : never was there such a
state for magnanimity as Rome ; of this state hear what Cicero saith :
11 Quam vplumus, licet, panes conscript!, nos amcmus, tamen nee
numcro Hispanos, nee robore Callos, nee callidatc Pcenos, ncc arlibus
draxos, ncc dcniquc hoc ipso hujus gentis et terra domcstico nativoque
iisu I talus ipsos et Latinos ; scd pietatc, ac religionc, atquc hac m.a
sapient ia, quod dconim immortalium numine omnia regi gubcrnariquc
pcrspcximus, omncs gentes nationesquc superavimus

XVII. OF SUPKRST1TION.

It were better to have no opinion of (iod at all, than such an
opinion as i-, unworthy of him : for the one is unbelief, the other is

CIVIL AND MORAL.

contumely : and certainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity.
Plutarch saith well to that purpose : " Surely," saith he, " I had rather
a great deal men should say, there was no such man at all as 1'lutarrh
than that they should say, that there wasone rititnrrh, th.it would cat his
children as soon as they wore born ; as the poets speak of Saturn."
And as the contumely is greater towards (i.xl, so the danger is greater
towards men. Atheism leaves a man to sense, to philosophy, to
natural piety, to laws, to reputation ; all which may IK- guides to an
outward moral virtue, though religion were not : but superstition dis
mounts all these, and erc« tcth an absolute monarchy in the minds of
men. Therefore atheism did never perturb states ; 'for it makes men
wary of themselves, as looking no farther : and we see the time*
inclined to atheism, as the time of Augustus C'a-sar, were civil times.
Hut superstition hath been the confusion of many states ; and bringeth
in a newprimum mobile, that ravisheth all the spheres of government.
The master of superstition is the people ; and in all superstition wise
men follow fools ; and arguments are fitted to practice in a reversed
order. It was gravely said by some of the prelates in the Council of
Trent, where the doctrine of the schoolmen bare gieat sway; that the
schoolmen were like astronomers, which did feign c« entries and
epicycles, and such engines of orbs, to save the phenomena, though
they knew then.' were no such things; and in like manner, that the
schoolmen had framed a number of subtile and intricate axioms and
theorems, to save the practice of the Church. The causes of supersti
tion arc : pleasing and sensual rites and ceremonies : excess of outward
and pharisaical holiness : over-great reverence of traditions, which
cannot but load the Chun h : the stratagems of prelates for their own
ambition and lucre : the favouring too much of good intentions, which
opencth the gate to conceits and novelties : the taking an aim at divine
matters by human, which cannot but breed mixture of imaginations :
and lastly, barbarous times, especially joined with calamities and
disasters. Superstition without a veil is a deformed thing : for as it
adtleth deformity to an ape to be so like a man ; so the similitude of
superstition to religion makes it the more deformed. And as whole
some meat corruptcth to little worms, so good forms and orders
corrupt into a number of petty observances. There is a superstition
in avoiding superstition ; when men think to do best, if they go farthest
from the superstition formerly received : therefore care would IK* had,
that, as it fareth in ill purgings, the good be not taken away with the
bad, which commonly is done when the people is the reformer.

XVII I. OK TKAVKI-

Travel in the younger sort is a part of education ; in the elder a
part of experience. He that travclleth into a country before he hath
some entrance into the language, gocth to school, and not to travel.
That young men travel under some tutor or grave servant, I allow
Well ; so that he be such a one that hath the language, and hath been
in the country before ; whereby he may »jc able to tell them wlvat

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

things are worthy to be seen in the country where they go, what
acquaintances they are to seek, what exercises or discipline the place
yicldeth. For else young men shall go hooded, and look abroad little.
It is a strange thing, that in sea-voyages, where there is nothing to be
seen but sky and sea, men should make diaries ; but in land- travel,
wherein so much is to be observed, for the most part they omit it :
as if chance were fitter to be registered than observation. Let diaries
therefore be brought in use. The things to be seen and observed are :
the courts of princes, especially when they give audience to ambas
sadors : the courts of justice, while they sit and hear causes : and so
of consistories ecclesiastic : the churches and monasteries, with the
monuments which are therein extant : the walls and fortifications of
cities and towns, and so the havens and harbours : antiquities and
ruins ; libraries, colleges, disputations, and lectures, where any are ;
shipping and navies : houses, and gardens of state and pleasure near
great cities ; armories, arsenals, magazines, exchanges, burses, ware
houses ; exercises of horsemanship, fencing, training of soldiers and
the like; comedies, such whcreunto the better sort of persons do
resort ; treasuries of jewels and robes, cabinets and rarities : and to
conclude, whatsoever is memorable in the places where they go. After
all which, the tutors or servants ought to make diligent inquiry. As
for triumphs, masks, feasts, weddings, funerals, capital executions, and
such shows, men need not so be put in mind of them ; yet they are
not to be neglected. If you will have a young man to put his travel
into a little room, and in short time to gather much, this you must do :
first, as was said, he must have some entrance into the language
before he gocth. Than he must have such a servant, or tutor, as
knoweth the country, as was likewise said. Let him carry with him
also some card or book describing the country where he travellcth,
which will be a good key to his inquiry. Let him keep also a diary.
Let him not stay long in one city or town ; more or less as the place
deserveth, but not long : nay, when he stayeth in one city or town, let
him change his lodging from one end and part of the town to another
which is a great adamant of acquaintance. Let him sequester himselt
from the company of his countrymen, and diet in such places where
there is good company of the nation where he travelleth. Let him,
upon his removes from one place to another, procure recommendation
to some person of quality residing in the place whither he removeth,
that he may use his favour in those things he dcsireth to see or know.
I bus he may abridge his travel with much profit. As for the
acquaintance which is to be sought in travel, that which is most of all

table is acquaintance with the secretaries and employed men of

ambassadors; for so in travelling in one country, he shall suck the

experience of many. Let him also see and visit eminent persons in

ds, which are of great name abroad ; that he may be able to tell

e agreeth with the fame. For quarrels they are with care

iscretion to be avoided : they are commonly for mistresses,

hs. place, and words. And let a man beware how he keepeth com
pany with choleric and quarrelsome persons ; for they will en^a^e

ESSAYS CIVIL AXD MORAL.

him into their own quarrels. When a traveller rcturncth home, let
him not leave the countries where he hath travelled altogether behind
him, but maintain a correspondence by letters with those of his
acquaintance which are of most worth. And let his travel appeal
rather in his discourse than in his apparel or gesture ; and in his dis
course, let him be rather advised in his answers than forward to tell
stories : and iet it appear that he doth not change his country manners
for those of foreign parts ; but only prick in some flowers of that he
hath learned abroad, into the customs of his own country.

XIX. OF F.MP1KK.

It is a miserable state of mind to have few things to desir?, and
many things to fear : and yet that commonly is the case of kings, who
being at the highest, want matter of desire, which makes their minds
more languishing: and have many representations of perils and shadows,
which makes their mine's the less clear. And this is one reason also of
that effect which the Scripture speakcth of, "that the king's heart is in
scrutable." For multitude of jealousies, and lack of some predominant
desire, that should marshal and put in order all the rest, makelh any
man's heart hard to rind or sound. 1 Icncc it comes likewise, that princes
many times make themselves desires, and set their hearts upon toys:
sometimes upon a building ; sometimes upon erecting of an order; some
times upon the advancing of a person ; sometimes upon obtaining
excellency in some art, or feat of the hand ; as Nero for playing on the
harp ; Domitian for certainty of the hand with the arrow ; Commodus
for playing at fence; Cararalla for driving chariots, and the like. This
secmcth incredible unto those that know not the principle, That the
.nindof man is more cheered and refreshed by profiting in small things
than by standing at a stay in great. We see also, that kings that have
been fortunate conquerors in their first years, it being not possible for
them to go forward infinitely, but that they must have some check or
arrest in their fortunes, turn in their latter years to be superstitious
and melancholy : as did Alexander the Great, Dioclcsian, .Mid in our
memory Charles the fifth, and others ; for he that is used to go
forward, and findcth a stop, fallcth out of his own favour, and is not
the thing he was.

To speak now of the true temper of empire : it is a thing rare and
hard to keep ; for both temper and distemper consist of contraries.
Hut it is one thing to mingle contraries, another to interchange them.
The answer of Apollonius to Vespasian is full of excellent instructions.
Vespasian asked him, what was Nero's overthrow? He answered,
Nero could touch and tune the harp well, but in government some
times he used to wind the pins too high, sometimes to let them down
too low. And certain it is, that nothing destroyeth authority so much
as the unequal and untimely interchange of power pressed too far, and
j^laxed too much.

This is true, that the wisdom of all these latter times, in princes'
affairs, is rather fine deliveries, and shiftings of dangers and mischiefs,

30 ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

when they are near, than solid and grounded courses to keep them
aloof. But this is but to try masteries with fortune : and let men
beware how they neglect and suffer matter of trouble to be prepared ;
for no man can forbid the spark, nor tell whence it may come. The
difficulties in princes' business are many and great ; but the greatest
difficulty is often in their own mind. For it is common with princes,
saith Tacitus, to will contradictories. " Sunt plerumquc regum volun-
tates, vehementes, ct inter se contrarine." For it is the solecism of
power, to think to command the end, and yet not to endure the mean.

Kings have to deal with their neighbours ; their wives ; their
children; their prelates or clergy; their nobles; their second nobles
or gentlemen ; their merchants ; their commons ; and their men of
war ; and from all these arise dangers, if care and circumspection be
not used.

First for their neighbours, there can no general rule be given, the
occasions are so variable, save one, which ever holdeth; which is, that
princes do keep due sentinel, that none of their neighbours do over
grow so, by increase of territory, by embracing of trade, by approaches,
or the like, as they become more able to annoy them, than they were.
And this is generally the work of standing counsels, to foresee and to
hinder it. During that triumvirate of kings, King Henry the Eighth,
of England ; Francis the First, king of France ; and Charles the Fifth,
emperor, there was such a watch kept that none of the three could
win a palm of ground, but the other two would straightways balance it,
either by confederation, or if need were by a war : and would not in
any wise take up peace at interest. And the like was done by that
league, which, Guicciardinc saith, was the security of Italy, made
between Fcrdinando, king of Naples ; Lorcnzius Medices, and Ludo-
vicus Sforza, potentates, the one of Florence, the other of Milan.
Neither is the opinion of some of the schoolmen to be received, that a
war cannot justly be made but upon a precedent injury or provocation.
For there is no question but a just fear of an imminent danger, though
there be no blow given, is a lawful cause of a war.

For their wives, there are cruel examples of them. Livia is infamed
for the poisoning of her husband ; Roxolana, Solyman's wife, was the
destruction of that renowned prince, Sultan Mustapha; and otherwise
troubled his house and succession : Edward the second of England,
his queen had the principal hand in the deposing and murder of her
husband. This kind of danger is then to be feared, chiefly, when the
wives have plots for the raising their own children, or else that they bc-
advowtresses.

For their children : the tragedies likewise of the dangers from them
have been many : and generally, the entering of the fathers into sus
picion of their children hath been ever unfortunate. The destruction
of Mustapha, that we named before, was so fatal to Solyman's line, as
the succession of the Turks, from Solyman until this day, is suspected
mtruc, and of strange blood ; for that Selymus the second was
thought to be supposititious. The destruction of Crispus, a youn"
pnnce of rare towardness, by Constantine the Great, his father, was in

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL. 31

like manner fatal to his house ; for both Constantinus and Constans,
his sons, died violent deaths ; and Constantinus his other son did little
better ; who died indeed of sickness, but after that Julianus had taken
amis against him. The destruction of Demetrius, son to Philip the
second of Macedon, turned upon the father, who died of repentance.
And many like examples there are ; but few or none where the fathers
had good by such distrust, except it were where the sons were up in
open arms against them ; as was Selymus the first against Bajazet : and
the three sons of Henry the second, king of England.

For their prelates, when they are proud and great, there is also
danger from them : as it was in the times of Anselmus and Thomas
Ijeckct, archbishops of Canterbury, who with their crosiers did almost
try it with the king's sword ; and yet they had to deal with stout and
haughty kings, William Rufus, Henry the first, and Henry the second.
The danger is not from that state, but where it hath a dependence of
foreign authority ; or where the churchmen come in, and are elected,
not by the collation of the king or particular patrons, but by the
people.

For their nobles ; to keep them at a distance it is not amiss ; but
to depress them may make a king more absolute, but less safe ; and
less able to perform anything that he desires. I have noted it in my
" History of King Henry the seventh of England,'' who depressed his
nobility ; whereupon it came to pass that his times were full of diffi
culties and troubles : for the nobility though they continued loyal unto
him, yet did they not co-operate with him in his business. So that
in effect he was fain to do all things himself.

For their second nobles ; there is not much danger from them,
being a body dispersed. They may sometimes discourse high, but
that doth little hurt : besides, they are a counterpoise to the higher
nobility, that they grow too potent : and lastly, being the most imme
diate in authority with the common people, they do best temper popular
commotions.

For their merchants, they are venaflorta; and if they flourish not,
a kingdom may have good limbs, but will have empty veins, and
nourish little. Taxes and imposts upon them do seldom good to the
king's revenue, for that that he wins in the hundred, he loseth in the
shire ; the particular rates being increased, but the total bulk of trad
ing rather decreased.

For their commons, there is little danger from them, except it be
where they have great and potent heads ; or where you meddle with
the point of religion, or their customs, or means of life.

For their men of war, it is a dangerous state where they live and
remain in a body, and are used to donatives, whereof we see examples
in the janizaries, and pretorian bands of Rome ; but trainings of men,
and arming them in several places, and under several commanders,
and without donatives, are things of defence and no danger.

Princes arc like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil times ;
and which have much veneration, but no rest. All precepts concern
ing kings are in effect comprehended in those two remembrances :

32 ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

" Memento quod cs homo ; " and " Memento quod es Dctis," or " vice
Dei : " the one bridlcth their power, and the other their will.

XX. OF COUNSE-L.

The greatest trust between man and man is the trust of giving
counsel. For in other confidences, men commit the parts of life;
their lands, their goods, their children, their credit, some particular
affair ; but to such as they make their counsellors, they commit the
whole : by how much the more they are obliged to all faith and in
tegrity. The wisest princes need not think it any diminution to their
greatness, or derogation to their sufficiency, to rely upon counsel.
God himself is not without : but hath made it one of the great names
of his blessed Son, "the Counsellor." Solomon hath pronounced, that
"in counsel is stability." Things will have their first or second agita
tion; if they be not tossed upon the arguments of counsel, they will be
tossed upon the waves of fortune; and be full of inconstancy, doing
and undoing, like the reeling of a drunken man. Solomon's son found
the force of counsel, as his father saw the necessity of it. For the
beloved kingdom of God was first rent and broken by ill counsel ;
upon which counsel there are set, for our instruction, the two marks
whereby bad counsel is for ever best discerned : that it was young
counsel, for the persons; and violent counsel, for the matter.

The ancient times do set forth in figure both the incorporation and
inseparable conjunction of counsel with kings, and the wise and politic
use of counsel by kings : the one, in that they say Jupiter did marry Metis,
which signified! counsel ; whereby they intend, that sovereignty is
married to counsel : the other in that which followeth, which was thus :
they say, after Jupiter was married to Metis, she conceived by him
and was with child, but Jupiter suffered her not to stay till she brought
forth, but cat her up : whereby he became himself with child, and was
delivered of Pallas armed out of his head. Which monstrous fable
containeth a secret of empire ; how kings are to make use of their
council of state : that, first, they ought to refer matters unto them,
which is the first begetting or impregnation ; but when they are elabor
ate, moulded and shaped in the womb of their council, and grow ripe
and ready to be brought forth, that then they suffer not their council
to go through with the resolution and direction, as if it depended on
them ; but take the matter back into their own hands, and make it
appear to the world, that the degrees and final directions, which, be
cause they come forth with prudence and power, are resembled to
I'allas armed, proceeded from themselves, and not only from their
authority, but, the more to add reputation to themselves, from their
head and device.

Let us now speak of the inconveniences of counsel, and of the reme
dies. The inconveniences that have been noted in calling and using
counsel are three. First, the revealing of affairs, whereby they become
less secret. Secondly, the weakening of the authority of princes, as
if they were less of themselves. Thirdly, the danger of being unfaith-

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

fully counselled, and more for the good of them that counsel, than of
him that is counselled. For which inconveniences the doctrine of Italy,
and practice of France, in some kings' times, hath introduced cabinet
counsels : a remedy worse than the disease.

As to secrecy, princes are not bound to communicate all matters
with all counsellors, but may extract and select. Neither is it neces
sary, that he that consulteth what he should do, should declare what h«
will do. But let princes beware, that the unsccrcting of their affairs
comes not from themselves. And as for cabinet counsels, it may be their
motto ; " Plenus rimarum sum : " one futile person, that maketh it his
glory to tell, will do more hurt than many that know it their duty to
conceal. It is true, there be some affairs which require extreme
secrecy, which will hardly go beyond one or two persons besides the
king : neither arc those counsels unprosperous ; for besides the secrecy,
they commonly go on constantly in one spirit of direction without dis
traction. But then it must be a prudent king, such as is able to grind
with a hand-mill ; and those inward counsellors had need also to be
wise men, and especially true and trusty to the king's ends ; as it was
with king Henry the seventh of England, who in his greatest business
imparted himself to none, except it were to Morton and Fox.

For weakening of authority ; the fable showcth the remedy. Nay,
'he majesty of kings is rather exalted than diminished, when they are
in the chair of counsel ; neither was there any prince bereaved of his
dependencies by his council, except where there hath been cither an
over-greatness in one counsellor, or an over-strict combination in
divers ; which arc tilings soon found and holpcn.

For the last inconvenience, that men will counsel with an eye to them
selves : certainly "Non invcnict ficlcm super terrain" is meant of the
nature of times, and not of all particular persons. There be that are
in nature faithful and sincere, and plain and direct ; not crafty and
involved : let princes above all draw to themselves such natures. lie-
sides, counsellors a«e not commonly so united, but that one counsclloi
keepcth sentinel over another ; so that if any do counsel out of faction
or private ends, it commonly comes to the king's ear. Hut the best
remedy is, if princes know their counsellors, as well as their coun
sellors know them:

Principis cst virtus maxima nossr suos.

And on the other side, counsellors should not be too speculative into
their sovereign's person. The true composition of a counsellor is
rather to be skilful in their master's business, than in his nature ; for
then he is like to advise him, and not to feed his humour. It is of
singular use to princes, if they take the opinions of their counci
both separately and together : for private opinion is more free, but
opinion before others is more reverend. In private, men arc more
bold in their own humours ; and in consort, men arc more obnoxious
to others' humours ; therefore it is good to take both : and of the
inferior sort, rather in private, to preserve freedom; of the greater,
rather in consort, to preserve respect. It is in vain for pru

\

34 KSSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

counsel concerning matters, if they take no counsel likewise concern
ing persons : for all matters are as dead images ; and the life of the
execution of affairs resteth in the good choice of persons. Neither is
it enough to consult concerning persons secundum genera, as in an
idea or mathematical description, what the kind and character of the
person should be ; for the greatest errors are committed, and the most
judgment is shown, in the choice of individuals. It was truly said,
"optimi consiliarii mortui ;" books will speak plain, when counsellors
blanch. Therefore it is good to be conversant in them, specially the
books of such as themselves have been actors upon the stage.

The councils at this day, in most places, are but familiar meetings ;
where matters are rather talked on, than debated : and they run too
swift to the order or act of council. It were better, that in causes of
weight the matter were propounded one day, and not spoken to till the
next day ; " in nocte consilium." So was it clone in the commission
of union between England and Scotland ; which was a grave and
orderly assembly. I commend set days for petitions : for both it gives
the suitors more certainty for their attendance ; and it frees the meet
ings for matters of estate, that they may hoc agere. In choice of
^committees, for ripening business for the council, it is better to choose
indifferent persons, than to make an indifferency by putting in those
that are strong on both sides. I commend also standing commissions ;
as for trade, for treasure, for war, for suits, for some provinces ; for
where there be divers particular councils, and but one council of estate,
as it is in Spain, they arc, in effect, no more than standing commis
sions ; save that they have greater authority. Let such as are to inform
councils out of their particular professions, as lawyers, seamen, mint-
men, and the like, be first heard before committees; and then, as occa
sion serves, before the council. And let them not come in multitudes,
or in a tribunitious manner ; for that is to clamour councils, not to
inform them. A long table, and a square table, or scats about the
walls, seem things of form, but are things of substance ; for at a long
table, a few at the upper end, in effect, sway all the business ; but in
the other form, there is more use of the counsellors' opinions that sit
lower. A king when he presides in council, let him beware how he
opens his own inclination too much in that which he propoundeth : for
else councillors will but take the wind of him, and instead of giving
free counsel sing him a song of Placebo.

XXI. OF DELAYS.

Fortune is like the market, where many times if you can stay a
little, the price will fall. And again, it is sometimes like Sibylla's offer,
which at first offercth the commodity at full, then consumeth part and
part, and still holdcth up the price. For occasion, as it is in the com
mon verse, turncth a bald noddle, after she hath presented her locks
in front, and no hold taken : or at least turncth the handle of the bottle
first to be received, and after the belly, which is hard to clasp. There
is surely no greater wisdom, than well to time the beginnings and on«
sets of things. Dangers are no more light, if they once seem light :

ESS A YS CIVIL AND MOKAL. 35

and more dangers have deceived men, than forced them. Nay, it were
better to meet some dangers half way, though they come nothing near,
than to keep too long a watch upon their approaches ; for if a man
watch too long, it is odds he will fall asleep. On the other side, to be
deceived with too long shadows, as some have been when the moon
was low, and shone on their enemies' back, and so to shoot off before
the time; or to teach dangers to come on, by over-early buckling
towards them, is another extreme. The ripeness or unripeness of
the occasion, as we said, must ever be well weighed ; and generally
it is good to commit the beginnings of all great actions to Argus
with his hundred eyes, and the ends to Hriarcus with his hundred
hands ; first to watch, and then to speed. For the helmet of 1'luto,
which makcth the politic man go invisible, is secrecy in the counsel,
and celerity in the execution. For when things are once come to the
execution, there is no secrecy comparable to celerity ; like the motion
of a bullet in the air, which tlicth so swift as it outruns the eye.

XXII. OF CUNNING.

We take cunning for a sinister or crooked wisdom. And certainly
there is great difference between a cunning man and a wise man ;
not only in point of honesty, but in point of ability. There be that
can pack the cards, and yet cannot play well ; so there are some that
are good in canvasses and factions, that are otherwise weak men.
Again, it is one thing to understand persons, and another thing to
understand matters : for many are perfect in men's humours, that are
not greatly capable of the real part of business : which is the consti
tution of one that hath studied men more than books. Such men are
fitter for practice than for counsel ; and they arc good but in their own
alley : turn them to new men, and they have lost their aim : so as the
old rule to know a fool from a wise man, " Mittc ambns nuclos ad
ignotos, et videbis," doth scarce hold for them. And because these
cunning men are like haberdashers of small wares, it is not amiss to
set forth their shop.

It is a point of cunning, to wait upon him with whom you speak
with your eye ; as the Jesuits give it in precept ; for there be many
wise men that have secret hearts and transparent countenances. Vet
this would be done with a demure abashing of your eye sometimes, as
the Jesuits also do use.

Another is, that when you have anything to obtain of present de
spatch, you entertain and amuse the party with whom you deal with
some other discourse ; that he be not too much awake to make objec
tions. I knew a counsellor and secretary, that never came to queen
Elizabeth of England with bills to sign, but he would always first put
her into some discourse of estate, that she might the less mind the
bills.

The like surprise may be made by moving things when the party
is in haste, and cannot stay to consider advibvtlly of that is moved.

If a man would cross a business, that he doubts some other \\ould

36 ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

handsomely and effectually move, let him pretend to wish it well, and
move it himself in such sort as may foil it.

The breaking off in the midst of that one was nbout to say, as if
he took himself up, breeds a greater appetite in him with whom you
confer, to know more.

And because it works better when anything secmeth to be gotten
from you by question, than if you offer it of yourself, you may lay
a bait for a question, by showing another visage and countenance than
you are wont : to the end to give occasion for the party to ask what
Ihe matter is of the change ; as Nehemiah did, " And I had not before
mat time been sad before the king."

In things that are tender and unpleasing, it is good to break the ice
by some whose words are of less weight, and to reserve the more
weighty voice to come in as by chance, so that he may be asked the
question upon the other's speech ; as Narcissus did, in relating to
Claudius the marriage of Messalina and Silius.

In things that a man would not be seen in himself, it is a point of
cunning to borrow the name of the world ; as to say, The world says,
or, There is a speech abroad.

I knew one, that when he wrote a letter, he would put that
which was most material in the postscript, as if it had been a bye-
matter.

I knew another, that when he came to have speech, he would pass
over that that he intended most ; and go forth, and come back again,
and speak of it as a thing that he had almost forgot.

Some procure themselves to be surprised at such times, as it is like
the party that they work upon will suddenly come upon them ; and to
be found with a letter in their hand, or doing somewhat which they
arc not accustomed ; to the end they may be apposed of those things,
which of themselves they are desirous to utter.

It is a point of cunning to let fall those words in a man's own name,
which he would have another man learn and use, and thereupon take
advantage. I knew two that were competitors for the secretary's place
in queen Elizabeth's time, and yet kept good quarter between them
selves, and would confer one with another upon the business ; and the
one of them said, that to be a secretary in the declination of a monarchy
was a ticklish thing, and that he did not affect it : the other straight
caught up those words, and discoursed with divers of his friends, that
he had no reason to desire to be secretary in the declination of a
monarchy. The first man took hold of it, and found means it was told
the queen ; who hearing of a declination of the monarchy, took it so
ill, as she would never after hear of the other's suit.

There is a cunning which we in England call, the turning of the
cat in the pan ; which is, when that which a man saith to another, he
lays it as if another had said it to him ; and to say truth, it is not easy,
when such a matter passed between two, to make it appear from which
of them it first moved and began.

It is a way that some men have, to glance and dart at others, by
justifying themselves by negatives ; as to say, This I do not : as

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL. 37

Tigellinus did towards Burrhus, " se non diversas spes, sed incolumi-
tatem imperatoris simplicitcr spectare."

Some have in readiness so many tales and storico, as there is
nothing they would insinuate, but they can wrap it into a tale ; which
serveth both to keep themselves more in guard, and to make others
carry it with more pleasure.

It is a good point in cunning, for a man to shape the answer he
would have in his own words and propositions ; for it makes the other
party stick the less.

It is strange how long some men will lie in wait to speak somewhat
they desire to say ; and how far about they will fetch, and how many
other matters they will beat over to come near it ; it is a thing of great
patience, but yet of much use.

A sudden, bold, and unexpected question, doth many times surprise
a man, and lay him open. Like to him, that having changed his name,
and walking in Paul's, another suddenly came behind him, and called
him by his true name, whereat straightways he looked back.

But these small wares and petty points of cunning are infinite, and
it were a good deed to make a list of them ; for that nothing doth more
hurt in a state, than that cunning men pass for wise.

But certainly some there are that know the resorts and falls of
business, that cannot sink into the main of it; like a house that hath
convenient stairs and entries, but never a fair room. Therefore you
shall see them find out pretty looses in the conclusion, but are no ways
able to examine or debate matters. And yet commonly they take
advantage of their inability, and would be thought wits of direction.
Some build rather upon the abusing of others, and, as we now say,
putting tricks upon them, than upon soundness of their own proceed
ings. But Solomon saith, " Prudcns advcrtit ad gressus suos : stultus
divcrtit ad dolos."

XXIII. OF WISDOM FOR A MAN'S SF.LF.

An ant is a wise creature for itself : but it is a shrewd thing in an
orchard or garden. And certainly men that arc great lovers of them
selves waste the public. Divide with reason between self-love and
society ; and be so true to thyself, as thou be not false to others ;
especially to thy king and country. It is a poor centre of a man's
actions, Himself. It is right earth. For that only stands fast upon
his own centre : whereas all things that have affinity with the heavens,
move upon the centre of another which they benefit. The referring of
all to a man's self is more tolerable in a sovereign prince, because
themselves arc not only themselves, but their good and evil is at the
peril of the public fortune. But it is a desperate evil in a servant to a
prince, or a citizen in a republic. For whatsoever affairs pass such a
man's hands, he crookcth them to his own ends : which must needs be
often eccentric to the ends of his master or state. Therefore let
princes or states choose such servants as have not this mark ; except
they mean their service should be made but the accessary. That

36 ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

which maketh the effect more pernicious is, that all proportion is lost :
it were disproportion enough for the servant's good to be preferred
before the master's ; but yet it is a greater extreme, when a little good
of the servant shall carry things against a great good of the master's.
And yet that is the case of bad officers, treasurers, ambassadors,
generals, and other false and corrupt servants ; which set a bias upon
their bowl of their own petty ends and envies, to the overthrow of their
masters great and important affairs. And for the most part, the good
such servants receive, is after the model of their own fortune ; out the
hurt they sell for that good, is after the model of their master's fortune.
And certainly it is the nature of extreme self-lovers, as they wiii set an
house on fire, and it were but to roast their eggs : and yet these men
many times hold credit with their masters, because their study is but
to please them, and profit themselves : and for either respect they will
abandon the good of their affairs.

Wisdom for a man's self is in many branches thereof a depraved
thing. It is the wisdom of rats, that will be sure to leave a house
somewhat before it fall. It is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out
the badger, who digged and made room for him. It is the wisdom of
crocodiles, that shed tears when they would devour. Bat that which
is specially to be noted is, that those which, as Cicero says of Pompey,
are " sui amantes sine rivale," are many times unfortunate. And
whereas they have all their time sacrificed to themselves, they become
in the end themselves sacrifices to the inconstancy of fortune, whose
wings they thought by their self-wisdom to have pinioned.

XXIV. OF INNOVATIONS.

As the births of living creatures at first are ill shapen ; so are all
innovations, which are the births of time. Yet notwithstanding as
those that first bring honour into their family, are commonly more
worthy than most that succeed : so the first precedent, if it be good,
is seldom attained by imitation. For ill, to man's nature, as it stands
perverted, hath a natural motion strongest in continuance : but good,
as a forced motion, strongest at first. Surely every medicine is an
innovation, and he that will not apply new remedies, must expect new
evils ; for time is the greatest innovator : and if time of course alter
things to the worse, and wisdom and counsel shall not alter them to
the better, what shall be the end ? It is true, that what is settled by
custom, though it be not good, yet at least it is fit. And those things
which have long gone together, are, as it were, confederate within
themselves : whereas new things piece not so well ; but though they
help by their utility, yet they trouble by their inconformity. Besides,
they are like strangers, more admired, and less favoured. All this is
true if time stood still ; which contrariwise moveth so round, that a
froward retention of custom is as turbulent a thing as an innovation :
and they that reverence too much old times are but a scorn to the
new. It were good therefore, that men in their innovations would
follow the example of time itself, which indeed innovateth greatly, but

ESSA ys CIVIL AND MORAL 39

quietly and by degrees scarce to be perceived : for otherwise, whatso
ever is new is unlocked for ; and ever it mends some, and impairs
others : and he that is holpcn takes it for a fortune, and thanks the
time ; and he that is hurt, for a wrong, and imputcth it to the author.
It is good also not to try experiments in states, except the necessity l>c
urgent, or the utility evident ; and well to beware that it be the
reformation that drawcth on the change, and not the desire of change
that pretcndeth the reformation. And lastly, that the novelty, though
it be not rejected, yet be held for a suspect : and, as the Scripture
saith, "that we make a stand upon the ancient way, and then look
about us, and discover what is the straight and right way, and so to
walk in it."

XXV. OF DESPATCH.

Affected despatch is one of the most dangerous things to business
that can be. It is like that which the physicians call prcdigcstion, or
hasty digestion, which is to fill the body full of crudities and secret
seeds of diseases. Therefore measure not despatch by the times of
sitting, but by the advancement of the business. And as in races, it
is not the large stride, or high lift, that makes the speed ; so in busi
ness, the keeping close to the matter, and not taking of it too much at
once, procureth despatch. It is the care of some, only to come oil
speedily for the time ; or to contrive some false periods of business,
because they may seem men of despatch. Hut it is one thing to abbre
viate by contracting, another by cutting off : and business so handled
at several sittings or meetings, gocth commonly backward and forward
in an unsteady manner. I know a wise man that had it fora by-word,
when he saw men hasten to a conclusion, " Stay a little, that we may
make an end the sooner."

On the other side, true despatch is a rich thing. For time is the
measure of business, as money is of wares ; and business is bought at
a dear hand, where there is small despatch. The Spartans and
Spaniards have been noted to be of small despatch: "Mi vcnga la
mucrte de Spagna ; " Let my death come from Spain ; for then it will
be sure to be long in coming.

Give good hearing to those that give the first information in
business: and rather direct them in the beginning, than interrupt
them in the continuance of their speeches : for he that is put out of
his own order, will go forward and backward, and IKJ more tedious
while he waits upon his memory, than he could have been if he had
gone on in his own course. Hut sometimes it is seen, that the mode
rator is more troublesome than the actor.

Iterations are commonly loss of time : but there is no such gain of
time, as to iterate often the state of the question ; for it chaseth away
many a frivolous speech as it is coming forth. I-ong and curious
speeches are as fit for despatch, as a robe or a mantle with a long
train is for race. Prefaces, and passages, and cxcusations, and other
speeches of reference to the person, are great wastes of time ; and
though they seem to proceed of modesty, they arc bravery. Yet

40 ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

beware of being too material, when there is any impediment or
obstruction in men's wills ; for pre-occupation of mind ever requircth
preface of speech ; like a fomentation to make the unguent enter.

Above all things, order, and distribution, and singling out of parts,
is the life of despatch : so as the distribution be not too subtile : for
he that doth not divide, will never enter well into business : and he that
divideth too much, will never come out of it clearly. To choose time,
is to save time ; and an unseasonable motion is but beating the air.
There be three parts of business ; the preparation, the debate or
examination, and the perfection. Whereof, if you look for despatch,
let the middle only be the work of many, and the first and last the
work of few. The proceeding upon somewhat conceived in writing,
doth for the most part facilitate despatch : for though it should be
wholly rejected, yet that negative is more pregnant of direction than
an indefinite ; as ashes are more generative than dust.

XXVI. OF SEEMING WISE.

It hath been an opinion, that the French are wiser than they seem,
and the Spaniards seem wiser than they are. But howsoever it be
between nations, certainly it is so between man and man. For as the
apostle saith of godliness, " having a show of godliness, but denying
the power thereof;" so certainly there are in point of wisdom and
sufficiency that do nothing or little very solemnly ; " magno conatu
nugas." It is a ridiculous thing, and fit for a satire to persons of
judgment, to sec what shifts these formalists have, and what prospec-
tives to make superficies to seem body that hath depth and bulk.
Some are so close and reserved, as they will not show their wares but
by a dark light ; and seem always to keep back somewhat ; and when
they know within themselves, they speak of that they do not well
know, would nevertheless seem to others to know of that which they
may not well speak. Some help themselves with countenance and
gesture, and are wise by signs ; as Cicero saith of Piso, that when he
answered him, he fetched up one of his brows up to his forehead, and
bent the other down to his chin : " rcspondes, altcro r.d frontem sub-
lato, altero ad mentum depresso supcrcilio, crudelitatem tibi non
placere." Some think to bear it by speaking a great word, and being
peremptory ; and go on, and take by admittance that which they
cannot make good. Some, whatsoever is beyond their reach, will seem
to despise or make light of it as impertinent or curious ; and so would
have their ignorance seem judgment. Some are never without a
difference, and commonly, by amusing men with a subtilty, blanch the
matter ; of whom A. Gellius saith, " hominen delirum, qui verborum
minutiis rerum frangit pondcra." Of which kind also, Plato in his
" Protagoras " bringeth in Prodicus in scorn, and makcth him make a
speech that consisteth of distinctions from the beginning to the end.
Generally such men in all deliberations find ease to be of the negative
side, and affect a credit to object and foretel difficulties : for when
propositions are denied, there is an end of them ; but if they be

ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORA T« 4 1

allowed, it rcquireth a new work : which false point of wisdom is the
bane of business. To conclude, there is no decaying merchant, or
inward beggar, hath so many tricks to uphold the credit of their
wealth, as these empty persons have to maintain the credit of their
sufficiency. Seeming wise men may make shift to get opinion ; but
let no man choose them for employment, for certainly you were better
take for business a man somewhat absurd, than over formal.

XXVII. OF FRIENDSHIP.

It had been hard for him that spake it to have put more truth and
untruth together, in few words, than in that speech; "Whosoever
is delighted in solitude, is either a wild beast, or a God." For it is
most true, that a natural and secret hatred, and aversation towards
society, in any man, hath somewhat of the savage beast : but it is most
untrue, that it should have any character at all of the divine nature,
except it proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but out of a love
and desire to sequester a man's self for a higher conversation : such as
is found to have been falsely and fcignedly in some of the heathen ;
as Epimenides the Candian, Numa the Roman, Kmpedocles the
Sicilian, and Apollonius of Tyana ; and truly and really in divers of
the ancient hermits and holy fathers of the Church. But little do men
perceive what solitude is, and how far it cxtendeth. For a crowd
is not company, and faces are but a gallery of pictures ; and talk but
a tinkling cymbal, where there is no love. The Latin adage meeteth
with it a little ; " Magna civitas, magna solitudo ; " because in a great
town friends are scattered, so that there is not that fellowship, for the
most part, which is in less neighbourhoods. But we may go farther, and
affirm most truly, that it is a mere and miserable solitude, to want true
friends, without which the world is but a wilderness. And even in
this sense also of solitude, whosoever in the frame of his nature and
affections is unfit for friendship, he takcth it of the beast, and not
from humanity.

A principal fruit of friendship is the case and discharge of the
fulness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do cause
and induce. \Vc know diseases of stoppings and suffocations arc the
most dangerous in the body ; and it is not much otherwise in the
mind ; you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen,
flour of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain ; but no receipt
openeth the heart but a true friend, to whom you may impart griefs,
joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the
heart, to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession.

It is a strange thing to observe, how high a rate great kings and
monarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship, whereof we speak ; so
great, as they purchase it many times at the hazard of their own safety
and greatness. For princes, in regard of the distance of their fortune
from that of their subjects and servants, cannot gather this fruit, ex
cept, to make themselves capable thereof, they raise some persons to
be as it were companions, and almost equals to themselves, which

42 ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

many times sorteth to inconvenience. The modern languages give
unto such persons the name of favourites or privadoes, as if it were
matter of grace or conversation : but the Roman name attaincth the
true use and cause thereof, naming them " participes curarum ;" for
it is that which tieth the knot. And we see plainly, that this hath been
done, not bj weak and passionate princes only, but by the wisest and
most politic that ever reigned, who have oftentimes joined to them
selves some of their servants, whom both themselves have called
friends, and allowed others likewise to call them in the same manner,
using the word which is received between private men.

L. Sylla, when he commanded Rome, raised Pompcy, after sur-
namcd the Great, to that height, that Pompey vaunted himself for
Sylla's over-match. For when he had carried the consulship for a
friend of his against the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a little
resent thereat, and began to speak great, Pompey turned upon him
again, and in effect bade him be quiet : for that more men adored the
sun rising, than the sun setting. With Julius Ca;sar Decimus Brutus
had obtained that interest, as he set him down in his testament for heir
in remainder after his nephew. And this was the man that had power
with him to draw him forth to his death. For when Caesar would
have discharged the senate, in regard of some ill presages, and espe
cially a dream of Calpurnia, this man lifted him gently by the arm out
of his chair, telling him, He hoped he would not dismiss the senate till
his wife had dreamed a better dream. And it seemeth, his favour was
so great, as Antonius, in a letter which is recited verbatim in one of
Cicero's Philippics, calleth him "venefica," witch ; as if he had en
chanted Ca:sar. Augustus raised Agrippa, though of mean birth, to
that height, as when he consulted with Maecenas about the marriage of
his daughter Julia, Maecenas took the liberty to tell him, That he must
either marry his daughter to Agrippa, or take away his life; there was
no third way, he had made him so great. With Tiberius Caesar
Sejanus had ascended to that height, as they two were termed and
reckoned as a pair of friends. Tiberius in a letter to him saith : " Hasc
pro amicitia nostra non occultavi :" and the whole senate dedicated an
altar to friendship as to a goddess, in respect of the great dearness of
friendship between them two. The like or more was between Sep
timus Sevcrus and Plantianus. For he forced his eldest son to marry
the daughter of Plantianus, and would often maintain Planlianus in
doing affronts to his son : and did write also in a letter to the senate,
hy these words : " I love the man so well, as I wish he may over-live
me." Now if these princes had been as a Trajan, or a Marcus Aurelius,
a man might have thought that this had proceeded of an abundant
goodness of nature ; but being men so wise, of such strength and
severity of mind, and so extreme lovers of themselves, as all these
were ; it proveth most plainly, that they found their own felicity,
though as great as ever happened to mortal men, but as an half piece,
except they might have a friend to make it entire ; and yet, which is
more, they were princes which had wives, sons, nephews ; and yet all
these could not supply the comfort of friendship.

ESSA YS CIVIL A.\D MORAL

It is not to be forgotten what Comminius obscrveth of his first
master duke Charles the Hardy, namely, That he would communicate
his secrets with none ; and least of all those secrets which troubled
him most. Whereupon he gocth on, and saith, That towards his
latter time, that closcner-s did impair, and a little perish his under
standing. Surely Comminius might have made the same judgment
also, if it had pleased him, of his second master Lewis the eleventh,
whose closeness was indeed his tormentor. The parable of Pythagoras
is dark, but true ; u Cor nc edito,'' cat not the heart. Certainly, if a
man would give it a hard phrase, those that want friends to open them
selves unto, arc cannibals of their own hearts, lint one thing is most
admirable, wherewith I will conclude this first fruit of friendship,
which is, that this communicating of a man's self to his friend works
two contrary effects ; for it redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halfs.
For there is no man that imparteth his joys to his friends, but he
joycth the more ; and no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend,
but he grieveth the less. So that it is in truth of operation upon a
man's mind of like virtue, as the alchemists used to attribute to their
stone, for man's body; that it worketh all contrary effects, but still to
the good and benefit of nature. 15ut yet, without praying in aid of
alchemists, there is a manifest image of this in the ordinary course of
nature. For in bodies, union strengthened and chcrisheth any natural
action ; and, on the other side, \\cakcneth and dulleth any violent
impression ; and even so it is of minds.

The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sovereign for the
understanding, as the first is for the affections. For friendship makcth
indeed a fair day in the affections, from storm and tempests ; but it
makcth daylight in the understanding, out of darkness and confusion
of thoughts : neither is this to be understood only of faithful counsel,
which a man receiveth from his friend ; but before you come to that,
certain it is, that whosoever hath his mind fraught with many thoughts,
his wits and understanding do clarify and break up in the communicat
ing and discoursing with another : hetosscth his thoughts more easily ;
he marshalleth them more orderly ; he seeth how they look when they
are turned into words ; finally, he waxeth wiser than himself; and that
more by an hour's discourse, than by a day's meditation. It was well
said by Themistocles to the king of Persia, That speech was like cloth
of Arras, opened and put abroad, whereby the imagery doth appear in
figure ; whereas in thoughts they lie but as in park^
second fruit of friendship, in opening the understanding, restraint
only to such friends, as are able to give a man counsel : they indccc
arc best : but even, without that, a man learnelh of himself and
bringeth his own thoughts to light, and whettcth his wits as again;
stone, which itself cuts not. In a word, a man were better r
himself to a statue or picture, than to suffer his thoughts to pas
smother.

Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship complete, Hi
other point which lieth more open, and falleth within vul|
lion : which is faithful counsel from a friend. Hcraclitus With well in

44 ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

one of his amigmas, Dry light is ever the best. And certain it is, that
the light that a man receiveth by counsel from another is drier and
purer, than that which comcth from his own understanding and judg
ment ; which is ever infused and drenched in his affections and
customs. So as there is as much difference between the counsel that
a friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there is between the
counsel of a friend and of a flatterer. For there is no such flatterer as
is a man's self; and there is no such remedy against flattery of a man's
self, as the liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two sorts; the one con
cerning manners, the other concerning business. For the first, the
best preservative to keep the mind in health is the faithful admonition
of a friend. The calling a man's self to a strict account is a medicine
sometimes too piercing and corrosive. Reading good books of morality
is a little flat and dead. Observing our faults in others is sometimes
improper for our case : but the best receipt, best, I say, to work, and
best to take, is the admonition of a friend. It is a strange thing to
behold what gross errors and extreme absurdities many, especially of
the greater sort, do commit for want of a friend to tell them of them,
to the great damage both of their fame and fortune. For as St. Tames
saith, they are as men " that look sometimes into a glass, and presently
forget their own shape and favour." As for business, a man may think
if he will, that two eyes sec no more than one ; or that a gamester
seeth always more than a looker-on ; or that a man in anger is as wise
as he that hath said over the four and twenty letters ; or that a musket
may be shot off as well upon the arm as upon a rest ; and such other
fond and high imaginations, to think himself all in all. But when all
is done, the help of good counsel is that which setteth business straight.
And if any man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be by
pieces; asking counsel in one business of one man, and in another
business of another man; it is well, that is to say, better perhaps than
if he asked none at all, but he runneth two dangers : one, that he shall
not be faithfully counselled ; for it is a rare thing, except it be from a
perfect and entire friend, to have counsel given, but such as shall be
bowed and crooked to some ends which he hath that giveth it. The
other, that he shall have counsel given, hurtful and unsafe, though with
good meaning, and mixed partly of mischief, and partly of remedy: even
as if you would call a physician that is thought good for the cure of the
disease you complain of, but is unacquainted with your body ; and
therefore may put you in way for a present cure, but overthroweth
your health in some other kind, and so cure the disease and kill the
patient. But a friend that is wholly acquainted with a man's estate,
will beware by furthering any present business how he dashcth upon
other inconvenience. And therefore rest not upon scattered counsels ;
they will rather distract and mislead, than settle and direct.

After these two noble fruits of friendship, peace in the affections,
and support of the judgment, followeth the last fruit, which is like the
pomegranate, full of many kernels ; I mean aid, and bearing a part in
all actions and occasions. Here the best way to represent to life the
manifold use of friendship, is to cast and see 'how many things there

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

are which a man cannot do himself; and then it will appear that it
was a sparing speech of the ancients to say, That a friend is another
himself; for that a friend is far more than himself. Men have their
time, and die many times in desire of some things which they princi
pally take to heart ; the bestowing of a child, the finishing of a work,
or the like. If a man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure,
that the care of those things will continue after him. So that a man
hath as it were two lives in his desires. A man hath a body, and that
body is confined to a place ; but where friendship is, all offices of life
arc as it were granted to him and his deputy : kjr he may exercise
them by his friend. How many things are there which a man cannot
with any face or comeliness, say or do himself? A man can scarce
allcclge his own merits with modesty, much less extol them : a man
cannot sometimes brook to supplicate or beg ; and a number of the
like. But all these things are graceful in a friend's mouth, which arc
blushing in a man's own. So again, a man's person hath many pro
per relations, which he cannot put off. A man cannot speak to his
son, but as afather ; to his wife, but as a husband ; to his enemy but upon
terms ; whereas a friend may speak as the case requires, and not as it
sorteth with the person. But to enumerate these things were endless;
I have given a rule, where a man cannot fitly play his own part ; if he
have not a friend, he may quit the stage.

XXVIII. OF EXPF.NCE.

Riches are for spending ; and spending for honour and good actions.
Therefore extraordinary expence must be limited by the worth of the
occasion ; for voluntary undoing may be as well for a man's country,
as for the kingdom of heaven. But ordinary expence ought to be
limited by a man's estate, and governed with such regard as it be
within his compass ; and not subject to deceit and abuse of servants ;
and ordered to the best show, that the bills may be less than the
estimation abroad. Certainly if a man will keep but of even hand, his
ordinary expences ought to be but to the half of his receipts ; and if he
think to wax rich, but to the third part. It is no baseness for the
greatest, to descend and look into their own estate. Some forbear it,
not upon negligence alone, but doubting to bring themselves into
melancholy, in respect they shall find it broken. But wounds cannot
be cured without searching. He that cannot look into his own estate
at all, had need both choose well them whom he employetb, and
change them often : for new are more timorous and less subtile. He
that can look into his estate but seldom, it behoveth him to turn all
certainties. A man had need, if he be plentiful in some kind of
expence, to be as saving again in some other. As if he be plentiful in
diet, to be saving in apparel : if he be plentiful in the hall, to be saving
in the stable : and the like. For he that is plentiful in cxpcnces of all
kinds, will hardly be preserved from decay. In clearing of a mans
estate, he may as well hurt himself in being too sudden, as in letti
it run on too long : for hasty selling is commonly as disadvantagcabi*

40 ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

as interest. Besides, he that clears at once will relapse ; for finding
himself out of straits, he will revert to his customs ; but he that cleareth
by degrees induceth a habit of frugality, and gaineth as well upon his
mind as upon his estate. Certainly, who hath a state to repair, may
not despise small things : and commonly it is less dishonourable to
abridge petty charges, than to stoop to petty gettings. A man ought
warily to begin charges, which once begun will continue; but in mat
ters that return not, he may be more magnificent.

xxix. OF Tin: TRUE GREATNESS OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES.

The speech of Thcmistocles the Athenian, which was haughty and
arrogant in taking so much to himself, had been a grave and wise
observation and censure, applied at large to others. Desired at a
feast to touch a lute, he said, He could not fiddle, but yet he could
make a small town a great city. These words, holpcn a little with a
metaphor, may express two differing abilities in those that deal in
business of estate. For if a true survey be taken of counsellors and
statesmen, there may be found, though rarely, those which can make
a small state great, and yet cannot fiddle ; as on the other side, there
will be found a great many that can fiddle very cunningly, but yet are
so far from being able to make a small state great, as their gift lieth
the other way ; to bring a great and flourishing estate to ruin and
decay. And certainly those degenerate arts and shifts, whereby many
counsellors and governors gain both favour with their masters, and
estimation with the vulgar, deserve no better name tlrm fiddling;
being things rather pleasing for the time, and graceful to themselves
only, than tending to the weal and advancement of the state which
they serve. There arc also, no doubt, counsellors and governors which
may be held sufficient, iic^otiis pares, able to manage affairs, and to
keep them from precipices and manifest inconveniences, which never
theless are far from the ability to raise and amplify an estate, in power,
means, and fortune. Hut be the workmen what they may be, let us
speak of the work ; that is, the true greatness of kingdoms and estates,
and the means thereof. An argument tit for great and mighty princes
to have in their hand ; to the end that neither by over-measuring their
forces they lose themselves in vain enterprises ; nor on the other side,
by undervaluing them, they descend to fearful and pusillanimous
counsels.

The greatness of an estate in bulk and territory doth fall under

measure, and the greatness of finances and revenue doth fall under

omputation. The population may appear by musters ; and the mim-

grcatncss of cities and towns by cards and maps. But yet

is not any thing amongst civil affairs more subject to error, than

ight valuation and true judgment concerning the power and forces

The kingdom of heaven is compared, not to any great

r nut, but to a grain of mustard-seed; which is one of the

prams, but hath in it a property and spirit hastily to get up and

there states, great in territory, and yet not apt to

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL. 47

enlarge or command ; and some that have but a small dimension of
stem, and yet apt to be the foundations of great monarchies.

Walled towns, stored arsenals and armouries, goodly races of
horse, chariots of war, elephants, ordnance, artillery, and the like : all
this is but a sheep in a lion's skin, except the breed and disposition of
the people be stout and warlike. Nay, number itself, in armies, im-
portcth not much, where the people is of weak courage ; for, as Virgil
saith, it never troubles a wolf how many the sheep be. The army of
the Persians, in the plains of Aibcla, was such a vast sea of people,
as it did somewhat astonish the commanders in Alexander's army, who
came to him therefore, and wished him to set upon them by night ;
but he answered, he would not pilfer the victory : and the defeat was
easy. When Tigrancs the Armenian, being encamped upon a hill
with four hundred thousand men, discovered the army of the Romans,
being not above fourteen thousand, marching towartls him ; he made
himself merry with it, and said, " Yonder men are too many for an
cmbassage, and too few for a fight." But before the sun set, he found
them enow to give him the chace, with infinite slaughter. Many are
the examples of the great odds between number and courage : so that
a man may truly make a judgment, that the principal point of great
ness in any state is to have a race of military men. Neither is money
the sinews of war, as it is trivially said, where the sinews of men's
arms, in base and effeminate people, are failing. For Solon Said well
to Croesus, when in ostentation he showed him his gold, "Sir, if any
other come that hath better iron than you, he will be master of all this
gold." Therefore let any prince or state think soberly of his forces,
except his militia of natives be of good and valiant soldiers. And let
princes, on the other side, that have subjects of martial disposition,
know theip own strength, unless they Ixj otherwise wanting unto them
selves. As for mercenary forces, which is the help in this case, all
examples show,- that whatsoever estate or prince doth rest upon them,
he may spread his feathers for a time, but he will mew them soon,
after.

The blessing of Judah and Issachar will never meet; that the same
people or nation should be both the lion's whelp, and the ass be'wecn
burdens. Neither will it be, that a people overlaid with taxes should
ever become valiant and martial. It is true, that taxes levied by con
sent of the estate do abate men's courage less ; as it hath been seen
notably in the excises of the Low Countries ; and, in some degree, in
the subsidies of England. For you must note, that we speak now of
the heart, and not of the purse. So that although the same tribute
and tax, laid by consent, or by imposing, be all one to the purse, yet it
works diversely upon the courage. So that you may conclude, that no
people overcharged with tribute is fit for empire.

Let states that aim at greatness take heed how their nobility and
gentlemen do multiply too fast ; for that makcth the common subject
crow to be a peasant and base swain, driven out of heart, and in effect
put the gentleman's labourer. Even as you may sec in coppice woods;
if you leave your staddlcs too thick, you shall never have clean under-

£SSA rs CIVIL AND MORAL

wood, but shrubs and bushes. So in countries, if the gentlemen be
too many, the commons will be base ; and you will bring it to that,
that not the hundred poll will be fit for an helmet ; especially as to the
infantry, which is the nerve of an army : and so there will be great
population, and little strength. This which I speak of, hath been
nowhere better seen, than by comparing of England and France ;
whereof England, though far less in territory and population, hath
been, nevertheless, an overmatch ; in regard the middle people of
England make good soldiers, which the peasants of France do not.
And herein the device of king Henry the seventh, whereof I have
spoken largely in the history of his life, was profound and admirable .
in making farms, and houses of husbandry, of a standard ; that is,
maintained with such a proportion of land unto them, as may breed a
subject to live in convenient plenty, and no servile condition ; and to
keep the plough in the hands of the owners, and not mere hirelings.
And thus indeed you shall attain to Virgil's character, which he gives
to ancient Italy :

Terra potens armis, atque ubere glebcc.

Neither is that state, which, for anything I know, is almost peculiar to
England, and hardly to be found anywhere else, except it be perhaps
in Poland, to be passed over ; I mean the state of free servants, and
attendants upon noblemen and gentlemen, which are no ways inferior
unto the yeomanry for arms : and therefore out of all question, the
splendour and magnificence, and great retinues, and hospitality of
noblemen and gentlemen, received into custom doth much conduce
unto martial greatness : whereas, contrariwise, the close and reserved
living of noblemen and gentlemen causeth a penury of military
forces.

Jiy all means it is to be procured, that the trunk of Nebuchad
nezzar's tree of monarchy be great enough to bear the branches and
the boughs ; that is, that the natural subjects of the crown or state
bear a sufficient proportion to the stranger subjects that they govern.
Therefore all states that are liberal of naturalization towards strangers,
arc tit for empire. For to think that an handful of people can, with
the greatest courage and policy in the world, embrace too large extent
of dominion, it may hold for a time, but it will fail suddenly. The
Spartans were a nice people in point of naturalization ; whereby, while
they kept their compass, they stood firm ; but when they did spread,
and their boughs were become too great for their stem, they became a
windfall upon the sudden. Never any state was, in this point, so open
to receive strangers into their body, as were the Romans ; therefore it
sorted with them accordingly, for they grew to the grandest monarchy.
Their manner was to grant naturalization, which they called "jus
civitatis," and to grant it in the highest degree, that is, not only "jus
ommcrcii, jus connubii, jus hereditatis," but also "jus sufiragii," and
lonorum : " and this not to singular persons alone, but likewise
i families ; yea, to cities, and sometimes to nations. Add to
this, their custom of plantation of colonies, whereby the Roman plant

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL. 49

was removed into the soil of other nations: and putting both consti
tutions together, you will say, that it was not the Romans that spread
upon the world, but it was the world that spread upon the Romans :
and that was the sure way of greatness. I have marvelled sometimes
at Spain, how they clasp and contain so large dominions, with so few
natural Spaniards : but sure the whole compass of Spain is a very
great body of a tree, far above Rome and Sparta at the first. And
besides, though they have not had that usage, to naturalize liberally,
yet they have that which is next to it ; that is, to employ, almost in
differently, all nations in their militia of ordinary soldiers : yea, and
sometimes in their highest commands. Nay, it scemeth at this instant
they are sensible of this want of natives ; as by the pragmatical sanc
tion, now published, appeareth.

It is certain, that sedentary and within-door arts, and delicate
manufactures, that require rather the finger than the arm, have in their
nature a contrariety to a military disposition. And generally all war
like people are a little idle, and love danger better than travail : neither
must they be too much broken of it, if they shall be preserved in vigour.
Therefore it was great advantage in the ancient states of Sparta,
Athens, Rome, and others, that they had the use of slaves, which com
monly did rid those manufacturers. But that is abolished, in greatest
part, by the Christian law. That which comcth nearest to it, is, to
leave those arts chiefly to strangers, which for that purpose are the
more easily to be received, and to contain the principal bulk of the
vulgar natives within those three kinds : tillers of the ground, free-
servants, and handicraftsmen of strong and manly arts, as smiths,
masons, carpenters, etc., not reckoning professed soldiers.

But above all, for empire and greatness, it importcth most, that a
nation do profess arms as their principal honour, study, and occupa
tion. For the things which we formerly have spoken of are but
habilitations towards arms; and what is habilitation without intention
and act ? Romulus, after his death, as they report or feign, sent a
present to the Romans, that above all they should intend arms, and
then they should prove the greatest empire of the world. The fabric
of the state of Sparta was wholly, though not wisely, framed and coin-
posed to that scope and end. The Persians and Macedonians had it
for a flash. The Gauls, Germans, Goths, Saxons, Normans, and
others, had it for a time. The Turks have it at this day, though in
gnvit declination. Of Christian Europe, they that have it are in effect
only the Spaniards. But it is so plain, that every man profiteth in tint
he most intendcth, that it ncedcth not to be stood upon. It is enough
to point at it; that no nation, which doth not directly profess arms,
may look to have greatness fall into their mouths. And on the other
side, it is a most certain oracle of time, that those states that continue
long in that profession, as the Romans and Turks principally have
done, do wonders: and those that have professed arms but for an age,
have notwithstanding commonly attained that greatness in that age,
which maintained them long after, when their profession and exercise
of arms hath grown to decay.

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

Incident to this point is, for a state to have those laws or customs,
which may reach forth unto them just occasions, as may be pretended,
of war For there is that justice imprinted in the nature of men, that
they enter not upon wars, whereof so many calamities do ensue, but
upon some, at the least specious, grounds and quarrels, the iuik
hath at hand, for cause of war, the propagation of his law or sect ; a
quarrel that he may always command. The Romans, though they
esteemed the extending the limits of their empire to be great honour
to their generals, when it was done : yet they never rested upon that
alone to begin a war. First therefore, let nations that pretend to
greatness have this, that they may be sensible of wrongs, either upon
borderers, merchants, or politic ministers ; and that they sit not too
long upon a provocation. Secondly, let them be prest, and ready to
give aids and succours to their confederates ; as it ever was with the
Romans : insomuch as if the confederate had leagues defensive with
divers other states, and, upon invasion offered, did implore their aids
severally, yet the Romans would ever be the foremost, and leave it to
none other to have the honour. As for the wars, which were anciently
made on the behalf of a kind of party, or tacit conformity of estate, I
do not see how they may be well justified ; as when the Romans made
a war for the liberty of Grajcia ; or when the Lacedaemonians and
Athenians made wars, to set up or pull down democracies and oligar
chies ; or when wars were made by foreigners, under the pretence of
justice or protection, to deliver the subjects of others from tyranny
and oppression ; and the like. Let it suffice, that no estate expect to
be great, that is not awake upon any just occasion of arming.

No body can be healthful without exercise, neither natural body
nor politic : and certainly, to a kingdom or estate, a just and honour
able war is the true exercise. A civil war, indeed, is like the heat of
a fever ; but a foreign war is like the heat of exercise, and serveth to
keep the body in health. For in a slothful peace, both courages will
effeminate, and manners corrupt. But howsoever it be for happiness,
without all question, for greatness it maketh, to be still, for the most
part, in arms : and the strength of a veteran arrny, though it be a
chargeable business, always on foot, is that which commonly giveth
the law, or at least the reputation amongst all neighbour states, as may
well be seen in Spain ; which hath had, in one part or other, a veteran
army, almost continually, now by the space of six-score years.

To be master of the sea, is an abridgement of a monarchy. Cicero
writing to Atticus, of Pompey his preparation against Caesar, saith,
" Consilium Pompeii plane Themistocleum est ; putat enim, qui inari
potitur, cum rcrum potiri." And without doubt Pompey had tired out
Cujsar, if upon vain confidence he had not left that way. We see the
great effects of battles by SCR. The battle of Actium decided the em
pire of the world. The battle of Lcpanto arrested the greatness of the
Turk. There be many examples, where sea fights have been final to
the war ; but this is, when princes or states have set up their rest upon
the battles. Hut this much is certain ; that he that commands the sea
is at great liberty, and may take as much and as little of the war as ho

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL

will. Whereas those that be strongest by land are many times, never
theless, in great straits. Surely, at this clay, with us of Europe, the
vantage of strength at sea, which is one of the principal dowries of
this kingdom of Great Britain, is great : both because most of the
kingdoms of Europe are not merely inland, but girt with the sea, most
part of their compass; and because the wealth of both Indies seems
in great part but an accessary to the command of the seas.

The wars of latter ages seem to be made in the dark, in respect ot
the glory and honour which reflected upon men from the wars in
ancient time. There be now, for martial encouragement, some degrees
and orders of chivalry, which nevertheless are conferred promiscuously
upon soldiers and no soldiers : and some remembrance perhaps upon
the escutcheon, and some hospitals for maimed soldiers, and such like
things. But in ancient times the trophies erected upon the place of
the victory ; the funeral laudatives and monuments for those that died
in the wars ; the crowns and garlands personal ; the stile of emperor,
which the great kings of the world after borrowed ; the triumphs of
the generals upon their return ; the great donatives and largesses upon
the disbanding of the armies, were things able to inflame all men's
courages : but above all, that of the triumph, among the Romans, was
not pageants or gaudery, but one of the wisest and noblest institutions
that ever was. For it contained three things ; honour to the general ;
riches to the treasury out of the spoils ; and donatives to the army.
But that honour, perhaps, were not tit for monarchies ; except it be in
the person of the monarch himself, or his sons ; as it came to pass in
the times of the Roman emperors, who did impropriatc the actual
triumphs to themselves and their sons, for such wars as they did
achieve in person ; and left only, for wars achieved by subjects, some
triumphal garments and ensigns to the general.

To conclude : no man can, by care taking, as the Scripture saith,
add a cubit to his stature, in this little model of a man's body : but in
the great frame of kingdoms and commonwealths, it is in the power of
princes or estates, to add amplitude and greatness to their kingdoms,
r or by introducing such ordinances, constitutions, and customs, as we
have now touched, they may sow greatness to their posterity and
succession. But these tilings arc commonly not observed, but left to
take their chance.

XXX. OF RKG1MKNT OK HKAI.TU.

There is a wisdom in this beyond the rules of physic : a man's own
observation, what he finds good of, and what he finds hurt of, is the
best physic to preserve health. But it is a safer conclusion to say this:
" 'I Ins agreeth not well with me, therefore I will not continue it ;'' than
this, " 1 find no offence of this, therefore I may use it." For strength
of nature in youth passcth over m;iny excesses, which are owing a man
till his age. Discern of the coming on of years, and think not to do
the s.unc still . for age will not be defied. He ware of suciden change
in any great point of 'lict, and if necessity enforce it, tit the rest to it.

ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

For it is a secret both in nature and state, that it is safer to change
many things t»;in onc- Examine thy customs of diet, sleep, exercise,
apparel and the like ; and try in anything thou shall judge hurtful, to
discontinue it little by little ; but so, as if thou dost find any inconve
nience by the change, thou come back to it again ; for it is hard to dis
tinguish that which is generally held good and wholesome, from that
which is good particularly, and fit for thine own body. To be free-
minded and cheerfully disposed, at hours of meat, and of sleep, and of
exercise, is one of the best precepts of long lasting. As for the pas
sions and studies of the mind, avoid envy, anxious fears, anger, fret
ting inwards, subtile and knotty inquisitions, joys, and exhilarations in
excess, sadness not communicated. Entertain hopes, mirth rather
than joy, variety of delights rather than surfeit of them ; wonder and
admiration, and therefore novelties ; studies that fill the mind with
splendid and illustrious objects, as histories, fables, and contemplations
of nature. If you fly physic in health altogether, it will be too strange
for your body when you shall need it. If you make it too familiar, it
will work no extraordinary effect when sickness comcth. I commend
rather some diet for certain seasons, than frequent use of physic,
except it be grown into a custom. For those diets alter the body
more, and trouble it less. Despise no new accident in your body, but
ask opinion of it. In sickness respect health principally : and in
health, action. For those that put their bodies to endure in health,
may in most sicknesses, which are not very sharp, be cured only with
diet and tendering. Celsus could never have spoken it as a physician,
had he not been a wise man withal ; when he givcth it for one of the
great precepts of health and lasting, that a man do vary and inter
change contraries ; but with an inclination to the more benign ex
treme. Use fasting and full eating, but rather full eating ; watching
and sleep, but rather sleep ; sitting and exercise, but rather exercise,
and the like. So shall nature be cherished, and yet taught masteries.
Physicians are some of them so pleasing and conformable to the
humour of the patient, as they press not the true cure of the disease ;
and some other arc so regular in proceeding according to art for the
disease, as they respect not sufficiently the condition of the patient.
Take one of a middle temper : or if it may not be found in one man,
combine two of cither sort : and forget not to call as well the best
acquainted with your body, as the best reputed of for his faculty.

XXXI. OF SUSPICION.

Suspicions amongst thoughts, are like bats amongst birds, they
ever lly by twilight. Certainly they are to be repressed, or at the kast
well guarded: for they cloud the mind, they lose friends, and they
check with business, whereby business cannot go on currently and
constantly. They dispose kings to tyranny, husbands to jealousy,
wise men to irresolution and melancholy. They are defects not in the
heart, but in the brain : for they take place in the stoutest natures ; as
in the example of Henry the Seventh of England ; there was not a

ESSAVS CIVIL A.\D MORAL. 53

more suspicious man, nor a more stout. And in such a composition,
they do small hurt. For commonly they arc not admitted but with
examination, whether they be likely or no ? But in fearful natures they
gain ground too fast. There is nothing makes a man suspect much,
more than to know little : and therefore men should remedy suspicion,
by procuring to know more, and not to keep their suspicions in
smother. What would men have ? Uo they think those they employ
and deal with arc saints ? Uo they not think they will have their own
ends, and be truer to themselves than to them ? Therefore there is no
better way to moderate suspicions, than to account upon such sus
picions as true, and yet to bridle them as false : for so far a man
ought to make use of suspicions, as to provide, as if that should be
irue that he suspects, yet it may do him no hurt. Suspicions that the
mind of itself gathers are but buzzes : but suspicions that are artifi
cially nourished, and put into men's heads by the talcs and whisper
ings of others, have stings. Certainly the best mean to clear the way
in this same wood of suspicions, is frankly to communicate them with
the party that he suspects ; for thereby he shall be sure to know more
of the truth of them than he did before ; and withal shall make that
party more circumspect not to give farther cause of suspicion. But
this would not be done to men of base natures : for they, if they find
themselves once suspected, will never be true. The Italian says,
" Sospctto licentia fedc ; " as if suspicion did give a passport to faith ;
but it ought rather to kindle it to discharge itself.

XXXII. OF DISCOURSE.

Some in their discourse desire rather commendation of wit, in
being able to hold all arguments, than of judgment in discerning what
is true ; as if it were a praise to know what might be said, and not
what should be thought. Some have certain common-places and
themes, wherein they arc good, and want variety : which kind of
poverty is for the most part tedious, and, when it is once perceived,
ridiculous. The honourablest part of talk is to give the occasion ;
and again to moderate, and pass to somewhat else ; for then a man
leads the dance. It is good in discourse and speech of conversation to
vary and intermingle speech of the present occasion with arguments :
talcs with reasons ; asking of questions with telling of opinions ; and
jest with earnest ; for it is a dull thing to tire, and, as we say now, to
jade anything too far. As for jest, there be certain things which ought
to be privileged from it ; namely, religion, matters of state, great
persons, any man's present business of importance, and any case that
dcserveth pity. Yet there be some that think their wits have been
asleep, except they dart out somewhat that is piquant, and to the
quick : that is a vein which would be bridled ;

Parcc, pucr, stimulis, ct fortius utcr? loris.

And generally men ought to find the dilTcrencc between saltness and
bitterness. Certainly he that hath a satirical vein, as he maketh

54 ESSA K9 CIVIL AND MORAL

others afraid oi his wit, so he had need be afraid of others' memory.
He that qucstioneth much shall learn much, and content much; but
especially if he apply his questions to the skill of the persons whom he
nskcth ; for he shall give them occasion to please themselves in speak
ing, and himself shall continually gather knowledge. But let his
questions not be troublesome, for that is fit for a poser. And let him
l>c sure to leave other men their turns to speak. Nay, if there be any
that would reign, and take up all the time, let him find means to take
them off, and bring others on ; as musicians use to do with those that
dance too long galliards. If you dissemble sometimes your knowledge
of that you are thought to know, you shall be thought another time to
know that you know not. Speech of a man's self ought to be seldom
and well chosen. I knew one was wont to say in scorn, " He must
needs be a wise man, he speaks so much of himself: " and there is but
one case wherein a man may commend himself with good grace, and
that is in commending virtue in another ; especially if it be such a
virtue whcreunto himself pretendeth. Speech of touch towards others
should be sparingly used, for discourse ought to be as a field, with
out coming home to any man. I knew two noblemen of the west part
of Kngland, whereof the one was given to scoff, but kept ever royal
cheer in his house ; the other would ask of those that had been at the
other's table, "Tell truly, was there never a flout or dry blow given?"
To which the guest would answer, Such and such a thing passed.
The lord would say, " I thought he would mar a good dinner." Dis
cretion of speech is more than eloquence ; and to speak agreeably
to him with whom we deal, is more than to speak in good words
or in good order. A good continued speech, without a good speech
of interlocution, shows slowness: and a good reply, or second
speech, without a good settled speech, showeth shallowncss and weak-
As we sec in beasts, that those that are weakest in the course,
arc yet nimblest in the turn: as it is betwixt the greyhound and the
hare. To use too many circumstances ere one come to the matter, is
wearisome ; to use none at all, is blunt.

XXXIII. OF PLANTATIONS.

Plantations arc amongst ancient, primitive, and heroical works

i the world was young, it begat more children ; but now it is old

fewer : for I may justly account new plantations to be the

ren of former kingdoms. 1 like a plantation in a pure soil • that

•e people are not displanted to the end to plant in others. For

s rather an extirpation, than a plantation. Plantino- of

s like planting of woods ; for you must make account to

twenty years' profit, and expect your rccompcnce in the

je principal thing that hath been the destruction of most

s, hath been the base and hasty drawing of profit in the first

" is true, speedy profit is not to be neglected, as far as miv

d with the good of the plantation, but no further. It is a "hamcf 3

and unblessed thmg. to take the scum of people; and wicked con

ESS A ys CIVIL AND MORAL. 55

dernned men, to be the people with \vhom you plant; and not only
so, but it spoileth the plantation ; for they will ever live like rogues,
and not fall to work, but be lazy, and do mischief, and spend victuals,
and be quickly weaiy, and then certify over to their country, to the
discredit of the plantation. The people wherewith you plant ought to
be gardeners, ploughmen, labourers, smiths, carpenters, joiners, fisher
men, fowlers, with some few apothecaries, surgeons, cooks, and bakers.
In a country of plantation, first look about what kind of victual the
country yields of itself to hand ; as chestnuts, walnuts, pine-apples,
olives, dates, plums, cherries, wild honey, and the like, and make use
of them. Then consider what victual or esculent things there are,
which grow speedily and within the year; as parsnips, carrots, turnips,
onions, radishes, artichokes of Jerusalem, maize, and the like. For
wheat, bailey, and oats, they ask too much labour: but with peas and
beans you may begin ; both because they ask less labour, and because
they serve for meat as well as for bread. And of rice likewise cometh
a great increase, and it is a kind of meat. Above all there ought to
be brought store of biscuit, oatmeal, flour, meal, and the like, in
the beginning, till bread may be had. For beasts or birds, take
chiefly such as are least subject to diseases, and multiply fastest : as
swine', goats, cocks, hens, turkeys, geese, house-doves, and the like.
The victual in plantations ought to be expended almost as in a
besieged town ; that is, with certain allowance. And let the main
part of the ground employed to gardens or corn be to a common
stock; and to be laid in, and stored up, and then delivered out in pro
portion; besides some spots of ground that any particular person will
manure for his own private. Consider likewise what commodities the
soil where the plantation is doth naturally yield, that they may some
way help to defray the charge of the plantation : so it be not as was
said, to the untimely prejudice of the main business ; as it hath fared
with tobacco in Virginia. Wood commonly aboundeth but too much :
and therefore timber is fit to be one. Jf there be iron ore, and streams
whereupon to set the mills ; iron is a brave commodity where wood
aboundeth. Making of bay-salt, if the climate be proper for it, would
Ixi put in experience. Growing silk likewise, if any be, is a likely com
modity. Pitch and tar, where store of firs and pines are, will not fail.
So drugs and sweet woods, where they arc, cannot but yield great
profit. Soap-ashes, likewise, and other tilings that may be thought of.
Hut moil not too much under ground ; for the hope of mines is very
uncertain, and uscth to make the planters lazy in other things. For
government, let it be in the hands of one assisted with some counsel :
and let them have commission to exercise martial laws with some
limitation. And above all, let men make that profit of being in the
wilderness, as they have God always, and his service, before their eyes.
Let not the government of the plantation depend upon too many
counsellors and undertakers in the country that planteth, but upon a
temperate number ; and let those be rather noblemen and gentlemen,
than merchants : for they look ever to the present gain. Let there be
freedoms from custom, till the plantation be of strength : and not only

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

freedom from custom, but freedom to carry their commodities where
they may make their best of them, except there be some special cause
of caution. Cram not in people, by sending too fast company after
company ; but rather hearken how they waste; and send supplies
proportionally ; but so as the number may live well in the plantation,
and not by surcharge be in penury. It hath been a great endangering
to the health of some plantations, that they have built along the sea
and rivers, in marish and unwholesome grounds. Therefore though
you begin there to avoid carriage, and other like discommodities, yet
build still rather upwards from the streams, than along. It concerneth
likewise the health of the plantation, that they have good store of salt
with them, that they may use it in their victuals when it shall be
necessary. If you plant where savages are, do not only entertain
them with trifles and gingles ; but use them justly and graciously, with
sufficient guard nevertheless ; and do not win their favour by helping
them to invade their enemies ; but for their defence it is not amiss.
And send oft of them over to the country that plants, that they may see
better condition than their own, and commend it when they return.
\Vhcn the plantation grows to strength, than it is time to plant with
women as well as men ; that the plantation may spread into genera-
rations ; and not be ever pieced from without. It is the sinfullest
thing in the world to forsake or destitute a plantation once in forward
ness : for besides the dishonour, it is the guiltiness of blood of many
commiserable persons.

XXXIV. OF RICHES.

I cannot call riches better than the baggage of virtue. The Roman

word is better, "impedimenta." For as the baggage is to an army, so

arc riches to virtue. It cannot be spared, nor left behind, but it

hindereth the march; yea, and the care of it sometimes loseth or dis-

turbcth the victory. Of great riches there is no real use, except it be

in the distribution ; the rest is but conceit. So saith Solomon, "Where

much is, there are many to consume it ; and what hath the owner, but

the sight of it with his eyes ? " The personal fruition in any man,

cannot reach to feel great riches : there is a custody of them ; or a

power of dole and donative of them ; or a fame of them ; but no solid

use to the owner. Do you not see what feigned prices are set upon

stones and rarctics ? And what works of ostentation are under

taken, because there might seem to be some use of great riches ? But

then you will say, they may be of use, to buy men out of dangers or

As Solomon saith, " Riches are as a strong hold in the

imagination of the rich man." But this is excellently expressed, that it

» in imagination, and not always in fact. For certainly great riches

d more men than they have bought out. Seek not proud

ich as thou mayest get justly, use soberly, distribute cheer-

leave contentedly. Yet have no abstract nor friarly contempt

iem : but distinguish, as Cicero saith well of Rabirius Posthumus;

dio rei amplificandae apparebat, non avaritiae proedam, sed

ESSA }rS CIVIL AND .MORAL.

instrumcnti:m bonitati qua?ri." Hearken also to Solomon, and beware
of hasty gathering of riches : " Qui festinat ad divitias, non erit insons."
The poets feign, that when Plutus, which is riches, is sent from
Jupiter, he limps, and goes slowly ; but when he is sent from Pluto, he
runs, and is swift of foot : meaning, that riches gotten by good means
and just labour, pace slowly ; but when they come by the death of
others, as by the course of inheritance, testaments, and the like, they
come tumbling upon a man. But it might be applied likewise to Pluto,
taking him for the devil. For when riches come from the devil, as by
fraud, and oppression, and unjust means, they come upon speed. The
ways to enrich are many, and most of them foul. Parsimony is one of
the best, and yet is not innocent : for it withholdeth men from works
of lil>erality and charity. The improvement of the ground is the most
natural obtaining of riches ; for it is our great mother's blessing, the
earth's ; but it is slow. And yet, where men of great wealth do stoop
to husbandry, it multiplieth riches exceedingly. I knew a nobleman in
England that had the greatest audits of any man in my time : a great
gr.ixier, a great sheep-master, a great timber-man, a great collier, a
gieat corn-master, a great lead-man ; and so of iron, and a number of
the like points of husbandry : so as the cart.h seemed a sea to him, in
respect of the perpetual importation. It was truly observed by one,
that himself came very hardly to a little riches, and very easily to great
riches. For when a man's stock is come to that, that he can expect
the prime of markets, and overcome those bargains, which for their
greatness are few men's money, and be partner in the industries of
young men, he cannot but increase mainly. The gains of ordinary
trades and vocations are honest, and furthered by two things, chiefly,
by diligence, and by a good name for good and fair dealing. Hut the
gains of bargains arc of a more doubtful nature, when men should wait
upon other's necessity ; broke by servants and instruments to draw
them on ; put off others cunningly that would be better chapmen, and
the like practices, which arc crafty and naught. As for the chopping
of bargains, when a man bif^s, not to hold, but to sell over again, that
commonly grindcth double, both upon the seller, and upon the buyer.
Sharings do greatly enrich, if the hands be well chosen that are
trusted. Usury is the certaincst means of gain, though one of the
worst, as that whereby a man doth eat his bread " in sudori vultus
alicni ;" and besides, cloth plough upon Sundays. Hut yet certain
though it be, it hath flows ; for that the scriveners and brokers do
value unsound men, to serve their own turn. The fortune in being the
6rst in an invention, or in a privilege, doth cause sometimes a wonder
ful overgrowth in riches ; as it was with the First sugar-man in the
Canaries. Therefore, if a man can play the true logician, to have as
well judgment as invention, he may do great matters, especially if the
times be fit. He that resteth upon gains certain, shall hardly grow to
great riches. And he that puts all upon adventures, doth oftentimes
break, and come to poverty : it is good therefore to guard adventures
with certainties that may escape losses. Monopolies, and co-cmption
of wares for resale, where trey arc not restrained, are great means to

5 8 ESS A VS CIVIL AND MORAL.

enrich ; especially if tin- party liavc intelligence what things are like to
come into request, and to store himself beforehand. Riches gotten by
service, though it be of the best rise, yet when they are gotten by
flattery, feeding humours, and other servile conditions, they may be
placed among the worst. As for fishing for testaments and executor-
ships, as Tacitus saith of Seneca, " Testnmcnta et orbos tanquam
indagine capi," it is yet worse ; by how much men submit themselves
to meaner persons than in service. Believe not much them that seem
to despise riches; for they despise them that despair of them: and
none worse when they come to them, lie not penny-wise ; riches have
wings, and sometimes they fly away of themselves, sometimes they
must be set living to bring in more. Men leave their riches either to
their kindred,' or to the public : and moderate portions prosper best in
both. A great estate left to an heir, is as a lure to all the birds of
prey round about, to seize on him, if he be not the better established
in years and judgment. Likewise glorious gifts and foundations, are
like sacrifices without salt ; and but the painted sepulchres of alms,
which soon will putrefy and corrupt inwardly. Therefore measure not
thine advancements by quantity, but frame them by measure : and
defer not charities till death : for certainly, if a man weigh it rightly,
he that doth so, is rather liberal of another man's than of his own.

XXXV. OF PROPHECIES.

I mean not to speak of divine prophecies, nor of heathen oracles,
nor of natural predictions ; but only of prophecies that hath been of
certain memory, and from hidden causes. Saith the Pythonissa to
Saul ; " To morrow thou and thy son shall be with me." Virgil hath
these verses from Homer :

At domtis yKnrn; cunctis clominabitur oris,
Kt nati n.itorum, ct qui nasccntur ab illis

/F.neid. iii, 97.

A prophecy, as it seems, of the Roman empire. Seneca the Trage
dian hath these verses :

Vcnient annis

Srcula seris, quibus oceanus
Vincula reruni laxct, ct ingcns
Patc.it tdlus, Tiphysque novos
Drte^at orbes ; nee sit tcrris
Ultima Thai.- :

A prophecy of the discovery of America. The daughter of Polycrates
dreamed, that Jupiter bathed her father, and Apollo anointed him :
it came to pass, that he was crucified in an open place, where the
e his body run with sweat, and the rain washed it. Philip of
edon dreamed he scaled up his wife's belly ; whereby he did
, that his wife should be barren ; but Aristandcr the sooth-
urn, his wife was with child : because mon do not use to
i that are empty. A Phantasm that appeared to M. Brutus,
in his tent, said to him, "Philippis iterum me vidcbis," Tiberius said to

£SS/1 ys CIVIL AND MORAL. 59

(f.-tlbn, "Tn quoquc, Galba, dcgustabis imperium." In Vespasian's
time there went a prophecy in the east, that those that should come
forth of Judea, should reign over the world ; which though it may be
was meant of our Saviour, yet Tacitus expounds it of Vespasian.
Domitiun dreamed, the night before he was slain, that a golden head
was growing out of the nape of his neck : and indeed the succession
that followed him, for many yiars made golden times. Henry the
sixth of England said of Henry th-j seventh, when he was a lad, and
gave him water ; " This is the lad that shall enjoy the crown for which
we strive." \\ hen I was in Fiance, I heard from one Dr. Pena, that,
the queen-mother, who was given to curious arts, caused the king her
husband's nativity to be calculated under a false name: ; and the astro
loger gave a judgment, that he should be killed in a vluel ; at which the
queen laughed, thinking her husband to be above challenges and
duels : but he was slain, upon a course, at tilt, the splinters of the staff
of Montgomery going in at his beaver. The trivvil prophecy, which I
heard when 1 was a child, and when queen Klix.abei.ii was in the flower
of her years, was ;

When Hcmpc is spun,

England's donne.

Whereby it was generally conceived, that after the princes had
reigned, which had the principal letters of that word Hcmpe, which
were Henry, Kdward, Mary, Philip, and Elizabeth, England should
come to utter confusion ; which, thanks be to God, is verified only in
the change of the name, for that the king's style is now no more of
England, but of Britain. There was also another prophecy before the
year eighty-eight, which I do not well understand :

There shall be seen upon a day,
lietween the bauyli and the May,
The black fleet of Norway.
When that is come and gone,
Kngland build houses of lime and stone,
For after wars shall you have none.

It was generally conceived to be meant of the Spanish fleet that came
in eighty-eight. For that the king of Spain's surname, as they say, is
Norway. The prediction of Rcgiomontanus,

Octogesimus octavus mirahilis anmis :

was thought likewise accomplished, in the sending of that great fleet,
being the greatest in strength, though not in number, of all that ever
swam upon the sea. As fo: Clcon's dream, I think it was a jest : it
was, that he was devoured of a long dragon ; and it was expounded of
a maker of sausages, that troubled him exceedingly. There arc num
bers of the like kind ; especially if you include dreams, and predictions
of astrology. Jhit I have set do\.n these few only of certain credit, for
example. My judgment is, that they ought all to l>c despised, and
ought to serve but for winter talk by the fire-side. Though when 1
say despised, I mean it as for belief: for otherwise, the spreading or
publishing of them, is in no sort to be despised; for they have done

63 ESSA ys CIVIL AND ^

much mischief. And I sec many severe laws made to suppress them.
'I hat tha hath given them grace, and some credit, consistcth in three
iings: first, that men mark when they hit, and never mark when they
m S3 J as they do, gencrallv, also of dreams. 1 he second is that pro-
bible conjectures, or obscure traditions, many times, turn themselves
into prophecies -.while the nature of man which covetcth divination
thinks it no peril to foretel that, which indeed they do but collect ; as
that of Seneca's verse. For so much was then subject to demonstra
tion, that the -lobe of the earth had great parts beyond the Atlantic,
which might be probably conceived not to be all sea : and adding
thereto, the tradition in Plato's Tim;cus, and his Atlanticus, it might
encourage one to turn it to a prediction. The third, and last, which is
the great one, is, that almost all of them, being infinite in number, have
been impostures, and by idle and crafty brains, merely contrived and
feigned, after the event passed.

XXXVI. OF AMBITION.

Ambition is like cholcr, which is an humour that maketh men
active, earnest, full of alacrity, and stirring, if it be not stopped. But
if it be stopped, and cannot have its way, it becometh adust, and
thereby malign and venomous. So ambitious men, if they find the
way open for their rising, and still get forward, they are rather busy
than dangerous ; but if they be checked in their desires, they become
secretly discontent, and look upon men and matters with an evil eye,
and are best pleased when things go backward ; which is the worst
property in a servant of a prince or state. Therefore it is good for
princes, if they use ambitious men, to handle it so, as they be still pro
gressive, and not retrograde ; which, because it cannot be without
inconvenience, it is good not to use such natures at all. For if they
rise not with their service, they will take order to make their service
fall with them. Hut since we have said it were good not to use men
of ambitious natures, except it be upon necessity, it is fit we speak, in
what cases they are of necessity. Good commanders in the wars must
be taken, be they never so ambitious : for the use of their service dispen-
seth with the rest ; and to take a soldier without ambition, is to pull
off his spurs. There is also great use of ambitious men, in being
screens to princes, in matters of danger and envy : for no man will take
that part, except he be like a seeled dove, that mounts, and mounts,
because he cannot sec about him. There is use also of ambitious men
in pulling down the greatness of any subject that over-tops ; as Tiberius
used Macro in the pulling down of Sejanus. Since therefore they
must be used in such cases, there resteth to speak how they are to be
bridled, that they may be less dangerous. There is less danger of
them, if they be of mean birth than if they be noble ; and if they be
rather harsh of nature, than gracious and popular ; and if they be
rather new raised, than grown cunning and fortified in their greatness
It is counted by some a weakness in princes to have favourites ; but it is,
of all others, the best remedy against ambitious great ones. For when

FSSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL. 61

the way of pleasuring and displeasuring lieth by the favourite, it is
impossible any other should be over-great. Another means to curb
them, is to balance them by others as proud as they. But then there
must be some middle counsellors to keep things steady ; for without
that ballast the ship will roll too. much. At the least a prince may
animate and inure some meaner persons, to be as it were scourges to
ambitious men. As for the having of them obnoxious to ruin, if they
be of fearful natures it may do well : but if they be stout and daring,
it may precipitate their designs, and prove dangerous. As for the
pulling of them down, if the affairs require it, and that it may not be
done with safety suddenly, the only way is, the interchange continually
of favours and disgraces, whereby they may not know what to expect,
and be as it were in a wood. Of ambitions, it is less harmful the
ambition to prevail in great things, than that other to appear in every
thing ; for that breeds confusion, and mars business : but yet it is less
danger to have an ambitious man stirring in business, than great in
dependencies. He that seekcth to be eminent amongst able men, hath
a great task ; but that is ever good for the public. But he that plots
to be the only figure amongst ciphers, is the decay of a whole age.
Honour hath three things in it : the vantage ground to do good ; the
approach to kings and principal persons ; and the raising of a man's
own fortunes. He that hath the best of these intentions, when he
aspircth, is an honest man: and that prince that can discern of these
intentions in another that aspircth, is a wise prince. Generally let
princes and states choose such ministers as arc more sensible of duty
than of rising ; and such as love business rather upon conscience, than
upon bravery : and let them discern a busy nature from a willing
mind.

XXXVII. OF MASQUES AND TRIUMPHS.

These things are but toys to come amongst such serious observa
tions. But yet, since princes will have such things, it is better they
should be graced with elegancy, than daubed with cost. Dancing to
song, is a thing of great state and pleasure. I understand it, that the
song be in quire, placed aloft, and accompanied with some broken
music : and the ditty fitted to the device. Acting in song, especially
in dialogues, hath an extreme good grace ; I say acting, not dancing,
(for that is a mean and vulgar thing,) and the voices of the dialogue
should be strong and manly, a base, and a tenor ; no treble, and the
ditty high and tragical ; not nice or dainty. Several quires placed one
ovcr-against another, and taking the voice by catches, antho.iwise,
give great pleasure. Turning dances into figure, is a childish curiosity.
And generally let it be noted, that those things which I here set down,
are such as do naturally take the sense, and not respect petty wonder
ments. It is true, the alterations of scenes, so it l>c quietly and without
noise, are things of great beauty and pleasure; for they feed and relieve
the eye before it be full of the same object. Let the scenes abound
with light, specially coloured and varied : and let the maskers, or any

ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

other that arc to conic down from the scene, have some motions upon the
scene itself before their coming clown ; for it draws the eye strangely,
and makes it with great pleasure to desire to see that it cannot per
fectly discern. Let the songs be loud and cheerful, and not chirpings
or pulings. Let the music likewise be sharp and loud, ar.il well placed
The colours that show best by candle-light, are white, carnation, and
a kind of sea-water green ; and ouches, or spangs, as they are of no
great cost, so arc they of most glory. As for rich embroidery, it is
lost, and not discerned. Let the suits of the maskers be graceful, and
such as become the person when the vizards are off: not after examples
of known attires ; Turks, soldiers, mariners, and the like. Let anti-
masks not be long ; they have been commonly of fools, satyrs, baboons,
wild men, antics, beasts, spirits, witches, Ethiopes, pigmies, turquets,
nymphs, rustics, Cupids, statues moving, and the like. As for angels,
it is not comical enough to put them in anti-masks ; and anything that
is hideous, as devils, giants, is on the other side as unlit : but chiefly,
let the music of them be recreative, and with some strange changes.
Some sweet odours suddenly coming forth without any drops falling,
arc in such a company, as there is steam and heat, things of great
pleasure and refreshment. Double masques, one of men, another of
ladies, addeth state and variety. I hit all is nothing except the room
be kept clear and neat.

For justs, and tourneys, and barriers, the glories of them are chiefly
in the chariots, wherein the challengers make their entry ; especially if
they be drawn with strange beasts ; as lions, bears, camels, and the
like : or in the devices of their entrance, or in the bravery of their
liveries : or in the goodly furniture of their horses and armour. But
enough of these toys.

XXXVIII. OF NATURE IN MEN.

Nature is often hidden, sometimes overcome, seldom extinguished

Force maketh nature more violent in the return; doctrine and di^-

coursc maketh nature less importune : but custom only doth alter and

subdue nature. He that sceketh victory over his nature, let him not

•t himself too great, nor too small tasks ; for the first will make him

dejected by often failings ; and the second will make him a small pro-

cecder though by often prcvailings. And at the first, let him practice

'.dps, as swimmers do with bladders or rushes : but after a time

let him practise with disadvantages, as dancers do with thick shoes'

{•or il Is great perfection, if the practice be harder than the use

nature is mighty, and therefore the victory hard, the degrees

1 be, first to stay and arrest nature in time ; like to him that

>uld say over the four and twenty letters when he was an-rv • then

to go less in quantity ; as if one should, in forbearing wine, come front

drinking hea ths to a draught at a meal ; and lastly, to discontinue

Optimus ill«« anirni vindex, laidentia pectus
Vincula qui rupit, cledoluitque semel.

ESSA yS CIVIL AND MORAL. 63

Neither is the ancient rule amiss, to bend nature as a wand to a con
trary extreme, whereby to set it right : understanding it where the
contrary extreme is no vice. Let not a man force a habit upon himself
with a perpetual continuance, but with some intermission. For both
the pause reinforceth the new onset ; and if a man that is not perfect
be ever in practice, he shall as well practise his errors as his abilities,
and induce one habit of both ; and there is no means to help this but
by seasonable intermissions. But let not a man trust his victory over
his nature too far; for nature will lie buried a great time, and yet
revive upon the occasion or temptation. Like as it was with yEsop's
damsel, turned from a cat to a woman, who sat very demurely at the
board's end, till a mouse ran before her. Therefore let a man either
avoid the occasion altogether, or put himself often to it, that he may
be little moved with it. A man's nature is best perceived in private-
ness, for there is no affectation ; in passion, for that puttcth a man out
of his precepts ; and in a new case or experiment, for there custom
lea vet h him. They arc happy men, whose natures sort with their
vocations; otherwise they may say, " Multum incola fuit anima mca:"
when they converse in those things they do not affect. In studies,
whatsoever a man commandeth upon himself, let him set hours for it;
but whatsoever is agreeable to his nature, let him take no care for any
set times ; for his thoughts will fly to it of themselves, so as the spaces
of other business or studies will suffice. A man's nature runs either to
herbs, or weeds : therefore let him seasonably water the one, and
destroy the other.

XXXIX. OF CUSTOM AND EDUCATION.

Men's thoughts are much according to their inclination ; their
discourse and speeches according to their learning and infused
opinions ; but their deeds are after as they have been accustomed.
And therefore, as Machiavcl well notcth, though in an evil-favoured
instance, there is no trusting to the force of nature, nor to the bravery
of words, except it be corroborate by custom. His instance is, that
for the achieving of a desperate conspiracy a man should not rest upon
the fierceness of any man's nature, or his resolute undertakings ; but
take such an one as hath had his hands formerly in blood. But
Machiavcl knew not of a friar Clement, nor a Ravillac, nor a
Jaureguy, nor a Baltazar Gerard : yet his rule holdeth still, that nature,
nor the engagement of words, are not so forcible as custom. Only
superstition is now so well advanced, that men of the lust blood are as
firm as butchers by occupation : and votary resolution i^ made equi
pollent to custom, even in matter of blood. In other things, the pre
dominancy ot custom is everywhere visible ; insomuch as a man
would wonder to hear men profess, protest, engage, give great words,
and then do just as they have done before : as if they were dead
images, and engines moved only by the wheels of custom. We see
also the reign or tyranny of custom what it is. The Indians, 1 mean
the sect of their wise men, lay themselves quietly upon a stack of

64 ESS A KS CIVIL AND MORAL.

wood, and so sacrifice themselves by fire. Nay, the wives strive to be
burned with the corps of their husbands. The lads of Sparta, of
ancient time, were wont to be scourged upon the altar of Diana, with
out so much as qucching. I remember in the beginning of queen
Elizabeth's time of England, an Irish rebel condemned put up a
petition to the deputy that he might be hanged in a with, and not in nn
halter, because it had been so used with former rebels. There be
monks in Russia, for penance, that will sit a whole night in a vessel ol
water, till they be engaged with hard ice. Many examples may be put
of the force of custom, both upon mind and body. Therefore, since
custom is the principal magistrate of man's life, let men by all means
endeavour to obtain good customs. Certainly custom is most perfect,
when it beginneth in young years: this we call education, which is, in
effect, but an early custom. So we see in languages, the tongue is
more pliant to all expressions and sounds, the joints are more supple
to all feats of activity and motions, in youth than afterwards. For it
is true, that late learners cannot so well take the ply, except it be in
some minds that have not suffered themselves to fix, but have kept
themselves open and prepared to receive continual amendment, which
is exceeding rare. But if the force of custom simple and separate be
great, the force of custom copulate and conjoined, and collegiate, is
far greater. For there example tcachcth, company conifortcth, emula
tion quickcneth, glory raiseth : so as in such places the force of custom
is in its exaltation. Certainly the great multiplication of virtues upon
human nature rcsteth upon societies well ordained and disciplined.
For common-wealths and good governments do nourish virtue grown,
but do not much mend the seeds. But the misery is, that the most
effectual means are now applied to the ends least to be desired.

XL. OF FORTUNE.

It cannot be denied but outward accidents conduce much to fortune:

favour, opportunity, death of others, occasion fitting virtue. But chiefly*

the mold of a man's fortune is in his own hands. " Faber quisque

fortunx suaV' saith the poet. And the most frequent of external

causes is, that the folly of one man is the fortune of another. For no

man prospers so suddenly as by others' errors. " Serpens nisi ser-

pcntem comederit non fit draco." Overt and apparent virtues bring

forth praise ; but there be secret and hidden virtues that brino- forth

fortune ; certain deliveries of a man's self, which have no name. The

Spanish name, desemboltura, partly expresscth them : when there be

stonds, nor restiveness in a man's nature ; but that the wheels of

s mind keep way with the wheels of his fortune. For so Livy after

he had described Cato Major in these words : "in illo viro, tantum

rpbur corpons et aninu fuit, ut quocunque loco natus esset fortunam

i facturus videretur;" falleth upon that, that he had versatile in-

jerefore, if a man look sharply and attentively, he shall

though she be blind, yet she is not invisible. The way

of fortune is like the milky way in the sky ; which is a meetincr or knot

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL. 65

of a number of small stars, not seen asunder, but giving light together.
So are there a number of little and scarce discerned virtues, or rathei
faculties and customs, that make men fortunate. The Italians note
some of them, such as a man would little think. When they speak ol
one that cannot do amiss, they will throw into his other conditions,
that he hath " Poco di matto." And certainly there be not two more
fortunate properties, than to have a little of the fool, and not too much
of the honest. Therefore extreme lovers of their country, or masters,
were never fortunate, neither can they be. For when a man placcth
his thoughts without himself, he goeth not his own way. An hasty
fortune maketh an cnterprizer and remover; the French hath it better,
tntreprenant) or rcmuant^ but the exercised fortune maketh the able
man. Fortune is to be honoured and respected, and it be but for our
daughters, Confidence and Reputation. For these two felicity breedeth :
the first within a man's self; the latter in others towards him. All wise
men, to decline the envy of their own virtues, use to ascribe them to
Providence and fortune ; for so they may the better assume them : and
besides, it is greatness in a man to be the care of the higher powers.
So Caesar said to the pilot in the tempest, " Cacsarem portas, et for-
tunam ejus." So Sylla chose the name of felix, and not of magnus :
and it hath been noted, that those that ascribe openly too much to
their own wisdom and policy, end unfortunate. It is written, that
Timotheus the Athenian, after he had, in the account he gave to the
state of his government, often interlaced this speech, "And in this
fortune had no part ;" never prospered in anything he undertook
afterwards. Certainly there be, whose fortunes are like Homer's
verses, that have a slide and easiness more than the verses of other
poets : as Plutarch saith of Timoleon's fortune, in respect of that of
Agesilaus or Epaminondas. And that this should be, no doubt it is
much in a man's self.

XLI. OF USURY.

Many have made witty invectives against usury. They say that it
is pity the devil should have God's part, which is the tithe. That the
usurer is the greatest sabbath-breaker, because his plough goeth every
Sunday. That the usurer is the drone that Virgil speakcth of:

Ignavum furos pccus a prccscpibus arcent.

That the usurer breaketh the first law that was made for mankind
after the fall ; which was, " In sudore vultus tui comedes panem tuum:"
not, " In sudore vultus alicni." That usurers should have orange-
tawney bonnets, because they do judaizc. That it is against nature,
for money to beget money : and the like. I say this only, that usury
is a "conccssum propter duriticm cordis :" for since there must be
borrowing and lending, and men are so hard of heart as they will not
lend freely, usury must be j>ermittcd. Some others have made sus
picious and cunning propositions of banks, discovery of men's estates,
and other inventions. Hut few have spoken of usury usefully. It is
good to set before us the incommoditics and commodities of usury

ESSAYS CIVIL AND

that the pood may be either weighed out, or culled out ; and warily to
pr vide, that while we make forth to that which is better, we meet not
with that which is worse.

The discommodities of usury are : first, that it makes fewer mer-
ch-ints For were it not for this lazy trade of usury, money would not
lie still, but would in great part be employed upon merchandizing;
which is the vena port* of wealth in a state. The second, that it
in ikes poor merchants. For as a farmer cannot husband his ground
so well if he sit at a great rent ; so the merchant cannot drive his
trade so well, if he sit at great usury. The third is incident to the
other two ; and that is, the decay of customs of kings pr states, which
ebb or flow with merchandizing. The fourth, that it bringeth the
treasure of a realm of state into a few hands. For the usurer being at
certainties, and others at uncertainties, at the end of the game most of
the money will be in the box ; and ever a state flourisheth when wealth
is more equally spread. The fifth, that it beats down the price of land:
for the employment of money is chiefly either merchandizing or pur
chasing ; and usury way-lays both. The sixth, that it doth dull and
damp all industries, improvements, and new inventions, wherein money
\\ould be stirring, il it were not for this slug. The last, that it is the
canker and ruinol many men's estates, which in process of time breeds
a public poverty.

On the other side, the commodities of usury are : first, that how
soever usury in some respect hindereth merchandizing, yet in some
other it advanccth it ; for it is certain that the greatest part of trade is
driven by young merchants, upon borrowing at interest ; so as if the
usurer either call in or keep back his money, there will ensue presently
a great stand of trade. The second is, that were it not for this easy
borrowing upon interest, men's necessities would draw upon them a
most sudden undoing ; in that they would be forced to sell their
means, be it lands or goods, far under foot ; and so whereas usury
cloth but gnaw upon them, bad markets would swallow them quite up.
As for mortgaging or pawning, it will little mend the matter : for
cither men will not take pawns without use ; or if they do, they will
look precisely for the forfeiture. I remember a cruel moneyed man in
the country, that would say, " The devil take this usury, it keeps us
from forfeitures of mortgages and bonds." The third and last is, that
it is a vanity to conceive, that there would be ordinary borrowing
without profit ; and it is impossible to conceive the number of incon
veniences that will ensue, if borrowing be cramped. Therefore to
speak of the abolishing of usury is idle. All states have ever had it
in one kind or rate, or other. So as that opinion must be sent to
Utopia.

To speak now of the reformation and rcglement of usury : how the
discommodities of it may be best avoided, and the commodities
retained : it apjxMrs by the balance of commodities and discommo
dities of iuury, two tilings are to be reconciled. The one, that the
to -th of usury be grinded that it bite not too much : the other, that
there be lelt open a means to invite moneyed men to lend to the

CIVIL AND MORAL. 67

merchants, for the continuing and quickening of trade. This cannot
be done, except you introduce two several sorts of usury, a less and a
greater. For if you reduce usury to one low rate, it will ease the
common borrower, but the merchant will be to seek for money. And
it is to be noted, that the trade of merchandize being the most lucra
tive, may bear usury at a good rate ; other contracts not so.

To serve both intentions, the way would be briefly thus. That
there be two rates of usury : the one fic<j and general for all ; the other
under license only to certain persons, and in certain places of mer
chandizing. First therefore let usury in general be reduced to five in
the hundred ; and let that rate be proclaimed to be free and current,
and let the state shut itself out to take any penalty for the same. This
will preserve borrowing from any general stop or dryncss. This will
case infinite borrowers in the country. This will in good part raise
the price of land, because land purchased at sixteen years' purchase
will yield six in the hundred and somewhat more, whereas this rate of
interest yields but five. This by like reason will encourage and edge
industrious and profitable improvements ; because many will rather
venture in that kind, than take five in the hundred, especially having
been used to greater profit. Secondly, let there be certain persons
licensed to lend to known merchants, upon usury at a higher rate : and
let it be with the cautions following. Let the rate be, even with the
merchant himself, somewhat more easy than that he used formerly to
pay : for by that means all borrowers shall have some ease by this
reformation, be he merchant or* whosoever. Let it be no bank, or
common stock, but every man be master of his own money. Not that
I altogether mislike banks, but they will hardly be brooked in regard
of certain suspicions. Let the state be answered some small matter
for the licence, and the rest left to the lender ; for if the abatement be
but small, it will no whit discourage the lender. For he, for example,
that took before ten or nine in the hundred, will sooner descend to
eight in the hundred, than give over his trade of usury ; and go from
certain gains, to gains of hazard. Let these licensed lenders be in
number indefinite, but restrained to certain principal cities and towns
of merchandizing : for then they will be hardly able to colour other
men's moneys in the country ; so as the licence of nine will not suck
away the current rate of five : for no man will send his moneys far off,
nor put them into unknown hands.

If it be objected, that this doth in a sort authorize usury, which
before was in some places but permissive : the answer is, that it is
better to mitigate usury by declaration, than to suffer it to rage by
connivance.

XLII. OF YOUTH AND AGE.

A man that is young in years, may be old in hours, if he have lost
no tune. But that happencth rarely. Generally youth is like the first
cogitations, not so wise as the second. For there is a youth in
thoughts, as well as in ages. And yet the invention of young men is

68 ESSA 15 CIVIL AND MORAL.

more lively than that of old ; and imaginations stream into their
minds better, and as it were more divinely. Natures that have much
heat, and great and violent desires and perturbations, are not ripe foi
action, till they have passed the meridian of their years : as it was
with Julius Cesar and Scptimius Severus. Of the latter of whom it is
said, " Juventutem egit erroribus, imo furpribus, plcnam." And yet he
was the ablest emperor almost of all the list. But reposed natures may
do well in youth : as it is seen in Augustus Cicsar, Cosmos duke of
Florence, Gaston de Fois, and others. On the other side, heat and
vivacity in age is an excellent composition for business. Young men
are fitter to invent than to judge ; fitter for execution than for counsel ;
and fitter for new projects than for settled business. For the experience
of age, in things that fall within the compass of it, directeth them ; but
in new things abuseth them. The errors of young men are the ruin
of business ; but the errors of aged men amount but to this, that more
might have been done, or sooner. Young men, in the conduct and
manage of actions, embrace more than they can hold ; stir more than
they can quiet ; fly to the end, without consideration of the means and
degrees ; pursue some few principles, which they have chanced upon,
absurdly; care not to innovate, which draws unknown inconveniences;
use extreme remedies at first ; and, that which doublcth all errors, will
not acknowledge or retract them : like an unready horse, that will
neither stop nor turn. Men of age object too much, consult too long,
adventure too little, repent too soon, and seldom drive business home
to the full period ; but c ontcnt themselves with a mediocrity of success.
Certainly it is good to compound employments of both ; for that will
be good for the present, because the virtues of either age may correct
the defects of both : and good for succession, that young men may be
learners, while men in age are actors : and lastly, good for extern
accidents, because authority followeth old men, and favour and popu
larity youth. But for the moral part, perhaps youth will have the
pre-eminence, as age hath for the politic. A certain Rabbin upon the
text, " Your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall
dream dreams; " inferrcth, that young men are admitted nearer to God
than old ; because vision is a clearer revelation than a dream. And
certainly the more a man drinkcth of the world, the more it intoxi-
cateth ; and age doth profit rather in the powers of understanding,
than in the virtues of the will and affections. There be some have an
over-early ripeness in their years, which fadeth betimes : these are
first, such as have brittle wits, the edge whereof is soon turned; such
as was Hermogenes the rhetorician, whose books are exceeding subtile,
who afterwards waxed stupid. A second sort is of those that have
some natural dispositions, which have better grace in youth than in
age : such as is a fluent and luxuriant speech ; which becomes youth
well, but not age. So Tully saith of Hortensius, " Idem manebat,
nequc idem dcccbat." The third is, of such as take too high a strain
at the first, and are magnanimous, more than tract of years can uphold.
As was Scipio Africanus, of whom Livy saith in effect, " Ultima primis
cedebant"

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL. 69

XL1II. OF BEAUTY.

Virtue is like a rich stone, best plain set : and surely virtue is best
in a body that is comely, though not of delicate features ; and that
hath rather dignity of presence, than beauty of aspect. Neither is it
almost seen, that very beautiful persons are otherwise of great virtue.
As if nature were rather busy not to err, than in labour to produce
excellency. And therefore they prove accomplished, but not of great
spirit; and study rather behaviour than virtue. But this holds not
always ; for Augustus Caesar, Titus Vespasianus, Philip le Bel of
France, Edward the Fourth of England, Alcibiades of Athens, Ismacl
the sophi of Persia, were all high and great spirits ; and yet the most
beautiful men of their times. In beauty, that of favour is more than
that of colour : and that of decent and gracious motion more than that
of favour. That is the best part of beauty, which a picture cannot
express : no, nor the first sight of the life. There is no excellent beauty,
that hath not some strangeness in the proportion. A man cannot
tell whether Apelles or Albert Durer were the more triflcr ; whereof
the one would make a personage by geometrical proportions ; the
other, by taking the best parts out of divers faces, to make one excel
lent. Such personages, I think, would please' nobody but the painter
that made them. Not but I think a painter may make a better face
than ever was ; but he must do it by a kind of felicity, as a musician
that maketh an excellent air in music, and not by rule. A man shnll
see faces, that if you examine them part by part, you shall never find
a good ; and yet altogether do well. If it be true, that the principal
part of beauty is in decent motion, certainly, it is no marvel, though
persons in years seem many times more amiable ; " pulchrorum autum-
nus pulchcr :" for no youth can be comely but by pardon, and con
sidering the youth, as to make up the comeliness. Beauty is as
summer fruits, which are easy to corrupt, and cannot last : and for the
most part it makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of counte
nance ; but yet certainly again, if it light well, it maketh virtues shine,
and vices blush.

XLIV. OF DEFORMITY.

Deformed persons are commonly even with nature ; for as nature
hath done ill by them, so do they by nature ; being for the most part,
as the Scripture saith, "void of natural affection :" and so they have
their revenge of nature. Certain there is a consent between the body
and the mind, and where nature crreth in the one, she venturcth in
the other. " Ubi peccat in uno, pcriclitatur in altero.'* But because
there is in man an election touching the frame of his mind, and n
necessity in the frame of his body, the stars of natural inclination are
sometimes obscured by the sun of discipline and virtue : therefore it is
iflood to consider of deformity, not as a sign which is more dcccivablc,
but as a cause which seldom faileth of the effect. Whosoever hath
anything fixed in his p-'rson that doth induce contempt, hath ;ilso a

70 ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

perpetual spur in himself, to rescue and deliver himself from scorn :
therefore all deformed persons are extreme bold. First, as in their
own defence, as being exposed to scorn ; but in process of time, by a
general habit. Also it stirreth in them industry, and especially of this
kind, to watch and observe the weakness of others, that they may have
somewhat to repay. Again, in their superiors it quencheth jealousy
towards them, as persons that they think they may at pleasure despise ;
and it laycth their competitors and emulators asleep ; as never believ
ing they should be in possibility of advancement, till they see them in
possession. So that, upon the matter, in a great wit deformity is an
advantage to rising. Kings in ancient times, and at this present, in
some countries, were wont to put great trust in eunuchs, because they
that are envious towards all, are more obnoxious and officious towards
one. But yet their trust towards them hath rather been as to good
spials and good whisperers, than good magistrates and officers. And
much like is the reason of deformed persons. Still the ground is, they
will, if they be of spirit, seek to free themselves from scorn ; which
must be either by virtue or malice. And therefore let it not be mar
velled, if sometimes they prove excellent persons ; as was Agesilaus,
Zanger the son of Solyman, yEsop, Gasca president of Peru; and
Socrates may go likewise amongst them, with others.

XLV. OF BUILDING.

Houses are built to live in, and not to look on ; therefore let use be
preferred before uniformity, except where both may be had. Leave
the goodly fabrics of houses for beauty only, to the enchanted palaces
of the poels : who build them with small cost. He that builds a fair
house upon an ill seat, committeth himself to prison. Neither do I
reckon it an ill seat only, where the air is unwholesome, but likewise
where the air is unequal ; as you shall see many fine scats, set upon
a knap of ground, environed with higher hills round about it, whereby
the heat of the sun is pent in, and the wind gathereth as in troughs ;
so as you shall have, and that sudd nly, as great diversity of heat and
cold, as if you dwelt in several places. Neither is it ill air only
that makcth an ill scat ; but ill ways, ill markets ; and, if you will con
sult with Momus, ill neighbours. I speak not of many more ; want
of water, want of wood, shade, and shelter; want of fruitfulncss, and
mixture of grounds of several natures ; want of prospect ; want of level
grounds; want of places at some near distance for sports of hunting,
hawking, and races ; too near the sea, too remote ; having the commo
dity of navigable rivers, or the discommodity of their overflowing; too
far off from great cities, which may hinder business; or too near them,
which lurcheth all provisions, and maketh everything dear ; where a
man hath a great living laid together, and where he is scanted; all
which, as it is impossible perhaps to find together, so it is good to
know them, and think of them, that a man may take as many as he
can : and if he have several dwellings, that he sort them so, that what
he wanteth in the one, he may find in the other. Lucullus answered

ESSA yS CIVIL AND MORAL.

I'ompey well, who, when he saw his stately galleries and rooms, so
large and lightsome in one of his houses, said, "Surely an excellent
place for summer, but how do you do in winter ? " Lurullus answered,
" \Vhy, do you not think me as wise as some fowls are, that ever
change their abode towards the winter ?"

To pass from the seat to the house itself, we will do as Cicero doth
in the orator's art, who writes books " De Oratore," and a book he
entitles " Orator :" whereof the former delivers the precepts of the art,
and the latter the perfection. We will therefore describe a princely
palace, making a brief model thereof. For it is strange to see, now in
Kurope, such huge buildings as the Vatican, and Escurial, and some
others be, and yet scarce a very fair room in them.

First, therefore, I say, you cannot have a perfect palace, except you
have two several sides; a side for the banquet, as is spoken of in the
book of Esther ; and a side for the household : the one for feasts and
triumphs, the other for dwelling. I understand both these sides to be
not only returns, but parts of the front ; anil to be uniform without,
though severally partitioned within; and to be on both sides of a great
and st?tely tower, in the midst of the front; that as it were joincth
them together on either hand. I would have on the one side of the
banquet, in front, one only goodly room above stairs, of some forty
foot high ; and under it a room for a dressing or preparing place, at
times of triumphs. On the other side, which is the household side, I wish
it divided at the first into a hall and a chapel, with a partition between,
both of good state and bigness ; and those not to go all the length,
but to have at the farther end a winter and a summer parlour, both
fair : and under these rooms a fair and large cellar sunk under
ground ; and likewise some privy kitchens, with butteries and pan
tries, and the like. As for the tower, I would have it two stories, of
eighteen foot high apiece, above the two wings; and goodly leads
upon the top, railed, with statues interposed ; and the same tower
to be divided into rooms, as shall be thought fit. The stairs likewise to
the upper rooms, let them be upon a fair open newel, and finely railed in,
with images of wood cast into a brass colour ; and a very fair landing-
place at the top. Uut this to be, if you do not appoint any of the
lower rooms for a dining-place of servants ; for otherwise you
shall have the servants' dinner after your own : for the steam of it will
come up as in a tunnel. And so much for the front. Only I under
stand the height of the first stairs to be sixteen foot, which is the
height of the lower room.

lieyond this front is there to be a fair court, but three sides of it of
a far lower building than the front. And in all the four corners of
that court, fair staircases cast into turrets on the outside, and not
within the row of buildings themselves : but those towers arc not to be
of the height of the front, but rather proportionable to the lower build
ing. Let the court not be paved, for that striketh up a great heat in
summer, and much cold in winter ; but only some side alleys, with a
cross, and the quarters to gra/e, being kept shorn, but not too near
shorn. The row of return on the banquet side, let it be all stately

72 ESSA ys CIVIL AND MORAL.

galleries ; in which galleries let there be three, or five fine cupolas
in the length of it, placed at equal distance ; and fine coloured win
dows of several works. On the household side, chambers of presence
and ordinary entertainments, with some bed-chambers ; and let all
three sides be a double house, without thorough lights on the sides,
that you may have rooms from the sun, both for forenoon and after
noon. Cast it also, that you may have rooms both for summer and
winter ; shady for summer, and warm for winter. You shall have
sometimes fair houses so full of glass, that one cannot tell where to
become to be out of the sun or cold. For imbowed windows, I hold,
them of good use (in cities, indeed, upright do better, in respect of the
uniformity towards the street), for they be pretty retiring places for
conference ; and besides, they keep both the wind and sun off ; for
that which would strike almost through the room doth scarce pass the
window. But let them be but few, four in the court, on the sides
only.

Beyond this court, let there be an inward court, of the same square
and height, which is to be environed with the garden on all sides : and
in the inside, cloistered on all sides upon decent and beautiful arches,
as high as the first story : on the under story, towards the garden, let
it be turned to a grotto, or place of shade or estivation ; and only have
opening and windows towards the garden, and be level upon the floor,
no whit sunk under ground, to avoid all dampishness. And let there
be a fountain, or some fair work of statues, in the midst of this court,
and to be paved as the other court was. These buildings to be for
privy lodgings on both sides, and the end for privy galleries : whereof
you must forsee, that one of them be for an infirmary, if the prince or
any special person should be sick, with chambers, bed-chamber ante-
camera and recamera joining to it. This upon the second story.
Upon the ground-story, a fair gallery, open, upon pillars ; and upon
the third story, likewise, an open gallery, upon pillars, to take the
prospect and freshness of the garden. At both corners of the farther
side, by way of return, let there be two delicate or rich cabinets, daintily
paved, richly hanged, glazed with crystalline glass, and a rich cupola
in the midst, and all other elegancy that may be thought upon. In the
upper gallery, too, I wish that there may be, if the place will yield it,
some fountains running in divers places from the wall, with some fine
avoidances. And thus much for the model of the palace, save that
you must have, before you come to the front, three courts : a green
court plain, with a wall about : a second court of the same, but more
garnished, with little turrets, or rather embellishments upon the wall ;
and a third court, to make a square with the front, but not to be built,
nor yet inclosed with a naked wall, but inclosed with terraces, leaded
aloft, and fairly garnished on the three sides ; and cloistered on the
inside with pillars, and not with arches below. As for offices, let them
stand at distance, with some low galleries to pass from them to the
palace itself.

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL. 73

XLVI. OF GARDENS.

God Almighty first planted a garden : and indeed it is the purest
of human pleasures. It is the greatest refreshment of the spirits of
man ; without which, buildings and palaces are but gross handyworks:
and a man shall ever see, that when ages grow to civility and elegancy,
men come to build stately, sooner than to garden finely, as if gardening
were the greater perfection. I do hold it, in the royal ordering of gar
dens, there ought to be gardens for all the months in the year : in
which, severally, things of beauty may be then in season. For Decem
ber and January, and the latter prtrt of November, you must take such
things as are green all winter; holly, ivy, bays, juniper, cypress-trees,
yew, pine-apple trees, fir trees, rosemary, lavender, periwinkle (the
white, the purple, and the blue), germander, flags, orange trees, lemon
trees, and myrtles, if they be stoved, and sweet marjoram, warm set.
There followeth, for the latter part of January and February, the
mczcreon tree, which then blossoms ; crocus vcrnus, both the yellow
anil the gray ; primroses, anemonics, the early tulip, hyacinthus orien-
talis, chamairis, fritellaria. For March there come violets, especially
the single blue, which are the earliest ; the yellow daffodil, the daisy,
the almond tree in blossom, the peach tree in blossom, the cornelian
tree in blossom, sweet briar. In April follow the double white violet,
the wallflower, the stock-gilliflowcr, the cowslip, flower-de-luces, and
lilies of all natures, rosemary-flowers, the tulip, the double piony, the
pale daffodil, the French honeysuckle, the cherry tree in blossom,
the damascene and plum trees in blossom, the white-thorn in leaf,
the lilach-trcc. In May and June come pinks of all sorts, espe
cially the blush pink ; roses of all kinds, except the musk, which
comes latci . honeysuckles, strawberries, bugloss, columbine, the
French marygold, flos Africanus, cherry-tree in fruit, ribes, figs in
fruit, rasps, vine-flowers, lavender in flowers, the sweet satyrian, with
the white flower ; herba muscaria, lilium convalium, the apple tree in
blossom. In July come gilliflowcrs of all varieties, musk roses, the
lime tree in blossom, early pears and plums in fruit, gennitings, codlins.
In August come plums of all sorts in fruit, pears, apricots, berberries,
filbcrds, musk melons, monks-hoods, of all colours. In September
come grapes, apples, poppies of all colours, peaches, mclo-cotoncs,
ncctariMcs, cornelians, wardens, quinces. In October, and the be
ginning of November, come services, medlars, bullaccs, roses cut or
removed to come late, hollyoaks, and such like. These particulars are
lor the climate of London : but my meaning is perceived, that you may
have ver perpetuiun, as the place affords.

And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air, where it
comes and goes, like the warbling of music, than in the hand, therefore
nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers
and plants that do best perfume the air. Roses, damask and red. are
fast flowers of their smells ; so that you may walk by a whole row of
llicm, and find nulling of tlicir sweetness : yea, though it be in a

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

morning's dew. Bays likewise yield no sincll as they grow; rosemary
little; nor sweet marjoram. That which above all others yields the
sweetest smell in the air, is the violet ; especially the white double
violet, which comes twice a year, about the middle of April, and about
Bartholomew-tide. Next to that is the musk rose ; then the straw
berry leaves dying, with a most excellent cordial smell ; then the
(lower of the vines— it is a little dust, like the dust of a bent, which
grows upon the cluster, in the first coming forth ; then sweet-brier ;
then wallflowers, which are very delightful, to be set under a parlour, or
lower chamber window; then pinks and gilliflowers, especially the
matted pink and clove-gilliflower ; then the flowers of the lime tree ;
then the honeysuckles, so they be somewhat afar off. Of bean-flowers
I speak not, because they are field flowers ; but those which perfume
the air most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but being trodden
upon and crushed, are three ; that is, burnct, wild thyme, and water
mints. Therefore you are to set whole alleys of them, to have the
pleasure when you walk or tread.

For gardens, speaking of those which are indeed prince-like, as we
have done of buildings, the contents ought not well to be under thirty
acres of ground, and to be divided into three parts : a green in the
entrance ; a heath or desert in the going forth ; and the main garden
in the midst ; besides alleys on both sides. And I like well, that four
acres of ground be assigned to the green, six to the heath, four and
four to either side, and twelve to the main garden. The green hath
two pleasures ; the one, because nothing is more pleasant to the eye
than green grass kept finely shorn ; the other, because it will give you
a fair alley in the midst ; by which you may go in front upon a stately
hedge, which is to inclose the garden. But because the alley will be
long, and in great heat of the year or day, you ought not to buy the
shade in the garden by going in the sun through the green; therefore
you are, of cither side the green, to plant a covert alley, upon carpen
ter's work, about twelve foot in height, by which you may go in shade
into the garden. As for the making of knots or figures, with divers
coloured earths, that they may lie under the windows of the house, on
that side which the garden stands, they be but toys ; you may sec as
good sights, many times, in tarts. The garden is best to be square,
encompassed on all the four sides with a stately arched hedge : the
arches to be upon pillars of carpenter's work, of some ten foot high,
ind six foot broad ; and the spaces between of the same dimension
»vith the breadth of the arch. Over the arches let there be an entire
hedge, of some four foot high, framed also upon carpenter's work ; and
upon the upper hedge, over every arch, a little turret, with a belly
enough to receive a cage of birds ; and over every space between the
arches, some other little figure, with broad plates of round coloured
glass, gilt, for the sun to play upon. But this hedge I intend to be
raised upon a bank, not steep, but gently slope, of some six foot, set
all with flowers. Also I understand, that this square of the garden
should not be the whole breadth of the ground, but to leave on either
side ground enough for diversity of side alleys ; unto which the two

CIVIL AND MORAL. 75

covert alleys of the green may deliver you ; but there must be no
alleys with hedges at either end of this great inclosure ; not at the
hither end, for letting your prospect upon the fair hedge from the
preen; nor at the further end, for letting your prospect from the hedge,
through the arches, upon the heath.

For the ordciing of the ground within the great hedge, I leave it
to variety or device; advising nevertheless, that whatsoever form you
cast it into, first it be not too busy, or full of work ; wherein I, for my
part, do not like images cut out in juniper or other garden stuff; they
be for children. Little low hedges round, like welts, with some pretty
pyramids, I like well; and in some places, fair columns upon frames
of carpenter's work. I would also have the alleys spacious and fair.
You may have closer alleys upon the side grounds, but none in the
main garden. I wish also, in the very middle, a fair mount, with
three ascents and alleys, enough for four to walk a-breast; which I
would have to be perfect circles, without any bulwarks or emboss
ments ; and the whole amount to be thirty foot high ; and some fine
banqueting house, with some chimneys neatly cast, and without too
much glass.

For fountains, they are a great beauty and refreshment ; but pooh
mar all, and make the garden unwholesome, and full of llies and frogs.
Fountains I intend to be of two natures : the one that sprinkleth or
spouteth water ; the other a fair receipt of water, of some thirty or
forty foot square, but without fish, or slime, or mud. For the first, the
ornaments of images gilt, or of marble, which are in use, do well : but
the main matter is so to convey the water, as it never stay eithou
in the bowls, 0r in the cistern ; that the water be never by rest dis
coloured, green or red, or the like ; or gather any mossiness or putre
faction. Besides that, it is to be cleansed every day by the hand.
Also some steps up to it, and some fine pavement about it doth well.
As for the other kind of fountain, which we may call a bathing pool,
it may admit much curiosity and beauty, wherewith we will not trouble
ourselves; as, that the bottom be finely paved, and with images ; the
sides likewise ; and withal embellished with coloured glass, and such
things of lustre ; encompassed also with fine rails of low statues.
Hut the main point is the same which we mentioned in the former
kind of fountain ; which is, that the water be in perpetual motion, fed
by a water higher than the pool, and delivered into it by fair spouts,
and then discharged away under ground by some equality of bores,
that it stay little. And for fine devices of arching water without spill
ing, and making it rise in several forms, of feathers, drinking glasses,
canopies, and the like, they l>c pretty things to look on, but nothing to
health and sweetness.

For the heath, which was the third part of our plot, I wish it to l>c
framed as much as may be to a natural wildness. Trees I would have
none in it, but some thickets made only of sweet-brier and honey
suckle, and some wild vine amongst ; and the ground set with violets,
strawberries, and primroses. For these are sweet and prosper in the
sliaile. And these to be in the heath here and there, not in any order.

CIVIL AND MORAL.

I like also little heaps, in the nature of mole-hills, such as are in wild
heaths, to be set, some with wild thyme, some with pinks, some with
germander, that gives a good flower to the eye, some with periwinkle,
some with violets, some with strawberries, some with cowslips, some
with daisies, some with red roses, some with lilium convallium, some
with sweet-williams red, some with bears-foot, and the like low flowers,
being withal sweet and sightly. Part of which heaps to be with
standards of little bushes, pricked upon their top, and part without.
The standards to be roses, juniper, holly, berberries, but here and
there, because of the smell of their blossom, red currants, gooseberries,
rosemary, bays, swcetbricr, and such like. But these standards to be
kept with cutting, that they grow not out of course.

For the side grounds, you arc to fill them with variety of alleys,
private, to give a full shade, some of them, wheresoever the sun be.
You arc to frame some of them likewise for shelter, that when the wind
blows sharp, you may walk as in a gallery. And those alleys must be
likewise hedged at both ends, to keep out the wind ; and these closer
alleys must be ever finely gravelled, and no grass, because of going
wet. In many of these alleys likewise, you are to set fruit trees of all
sorts ; as well upon the walls as in ranges. And this would be gene
rally observed, that the borders wherein you plant your fruit trees,
be fair and large, and low, and not steep ; and set with fine flowers,
but thin and sparingly, lest they deceive the trees. At the end of
both the side grounds, I would have a mount of some pretty height,
leaving the wall of the inclosure breast high, to look abroad into the fields.

For the main garden, I do not deny but there should be some fair
alleys, ranged on both sides, with fruit trees, and some pretty tufts of
fruit trees, and arbours with seats, set in some decent order ; but these
to be by no means set too thick, but to leave the main garden so as it
be not close, but the air open and free. For as for shade, I would
have you rest upon the alleys of the side grounds, there to walk, if you
be disposed, in the heat of the year or day ; but to make account, that
the main garden is for the more temperate parts of the year ; and in
the heat of summer, for the morning and the evening, or overcast days.

For aviaries, I like them not, except they be of that largeness, as
they may be turfed, and have living plants and bushes set in them ;
that the birds may have more scope, and natural nestling, and that no
foulness appear in the floor of the aviary.

So I have made a platform of a princely garden, partly by precept,
partly by drawing; not a model, but some general lines of it ; and in
this I have spared for no cost. But it is nothing for great princes,
that for the most part, taking advice with workmen, with no less cost
set their things together ; and sometimes add statues, and such
things, for state and magnificence, but nothing to the true pleasure of
a garden.

XLVII. OF NEGOTIATING.

It is generally better to deal by speech, than by letter ; and by the
mediation of a third, than by a man's self. Letters are good, when a

ESS A }'S CIVIL AND MORAL. 77

man would draw an answer by letter back attain; or when it may serve
for a man's justification, afterwards to produce his own letter ; or
where it may be danger to be interrupted, or heard by pieces. To
deal in person is pood, when a man's face breedeth regard, as com
monly with inferiors; or in tender cases, where a man's eye upon the
countenance of him with whom he speaketh, may give him a direction
how far to go : and generally where a man will reserve to himself
liberty, cither to disavow or to expound. In choice of instruments, it
is better to choose men of a plainer sort, that are like to do that that
is committed to them, and to report back again faithfully the success ;
than those that are cunning to contrive out of other men's business
somewhat to grace themselves, and will help the matter in report, for
satisfaction sake. Use also such persons as affect the business wherein
they are employed, for that quickeneth much ; and such as are fit for
the matter ; as bold men for expostulation, fair spoken men for per
suasion, crafty men for inquiry and observation, froward and absurd
men for business that doth not well bear out itself. Use also such as
have been lucky, and prevailed before in things wherein you have em
ployed them ; for that breeds confidence, and they will strive to main
tain their prescription. It is better to sound a person with whom one
deals, afar off, than to fall upon the point at first ; except you mean to
surprise him by some short question. It is better dealing with men in
appetite, than with those that arc where thcv would be. If a man
deal with another upon conditions, the start or first performance is all;
which a man cannot reasonably demand, except either the nature of
the thing be such which must go before ; or else a man can persuade
the other party, that he shall still need him in some other thing ; or
else that he be counted the honester man. All practice is to discover,
or to work. Men discover themselves in trust, in passion, at unawares,
and of necessity, when they would have somewhat done, and cannot
find an apt pretext. If you would work any man, you must cither
know his nature and fashions, and so lead him ; or his ends, and so
persuade him ; or his weakness and disadvantages, and so awe him ;
or those that have interest in him, and so govern him. In dealing
with cunning persons, we must ever consider their ends to interpret
their speeches ; and it is good to say little to them, and that which they
least look for. In all negotiations of difficulty, a man may not look to
sow and reap at once ; but must prepare business, and so ripen it by
degrees.

XLVIII. OF FOLLOWERS AND FRIENDS.

Costly followers are not to be liked ; lest while a man makcth his
train longer, he maketh his wings shorter. I reckon to be costly, not
them alone which charge the purse, but which arc wearisome and
importune in suits. Ordinary followers ought to challenge no higher
conditions than countenance, recommendation, and protection from
wrongs. Factious followers are worse to be liked, which follow not
upon affection to him with whom they range themselves, but upon

78 ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

discontentment conceived against some other : whereupon commonly
cnsucth that ill intelligence that we may many times see between
great personages. Likewise glorious followers, who make themselves
as trumpets of the commendation of those they follow, are full of incon
venience; for they taint business through want of secrecy; and they
export honour from a man, and make him a return in envy. There is
a kind of followers likewise, which are dangerous, being indeed espials ;
which inquire the secrets of the house, and bear tales of them to others.
Yet such men many times are in great favour ; for they are officious,
and commonly exchange tales. The following by certain estates of
men answerable to that which a great person himself professeth, as of
soldiers to him that hath been employed in the wars, and the like, hath
ever been a thing civil, and well taken even in monarchies; so it be
without too much pomp or popularity. But the most honourable
kind of following, is to be followed as one that apprehendeth to advance
virtue and desert in all sorts of persons. And yet where there is no
eminent odds in sufficiency, it is better to take with the more passable
than with the more able. And besides, to speak truth, in base times
active men are of more use than virtuous. It is true, that in govern
ment, it is good to use men of one rank equally : for to countenance
some extraordinarily, is to make them insolent, and the rest discontent ;
because they may claim a due. But contrariwise in favour, to use men
with much difference and election is good ; for it makcth the persons pre
ferred more thankful, and the rest more officious ; because all is of favour.
It is good discretion not to make too much of any man at the first ; because
one cannot hold out that proportion. To be governed, as we call it,
by one, is not safe ; for it shows softness, and gives a freedom to scan
dal and disreputation ; for those that would not censure, or speak ill of
a man immediately, will talk more boldly of those that are so great
with them, and thereby wound their honour. Yet to be distracted with
many, is worse ; for it makes men to be of the last impression, and full
of change. To take advice of some few friends is ?cr honourable ;
for lookers-on many times see more than the gamesters ; and the vale
best discovereth the hill. There is little friendship in the world, and
least of all between equals, which was wont to be magnified.
That that is, is between superior and inferior, whose fortunes may
comprehend the one the other.

XLIX. OF SUITORS.

Many ill matters and projects are undertaken : and private suits
do putrify the public good. Many good matters are undertaken with
bad minds; 1 mean not only corrupt minds, but crafty minds, that intend
not performance. Some embrace suits, which never mean to deal effec
tually in them ; but it they see there maybe life in the matter by some
other mean, they will be content to win a thank, or take a second
reward, or at least to make use in the mean time of the suitor's hopes.
Some take hold of suits, only for an occasion to cross some other, or to
make an information, whereof they could not otherwise have apt pre-

ESSAi'S CIVIL AND MORAL. 79

text ; without care what become of the suit when tint turn is served :
or generally, to make other men's business a kind of entertainment to
bring in their own. Nay, some undertake suits, with a full purpose to
let them fall ; to the end to gratify the adverse party or competitor.
Surely there is in some sort a right in every suit ; either a right of equity,
if it Ixj a suit of controversy ; or a right of desert, if it be a suit of peti
tion. If affection lead a man to favour the wrong side injustice, let
him rather use his countenance to compound the matter than to
carry it. If affection lead a man to favour the less worthy in desert,
let him do it without depraving or disabling the better deservcr. In
suits which a man doth not well understand, it is good to refer them
to some friend of trust and judgment, that may report whether he may
deal in thcjn with honour; but let him choose well his referendaries,
for else he may be led by the nose. Suitors arc so distasted with
delays and abuses, that plain dealing in denying to deal in suits at
first, and reporting the success barely, and in challenging no more
thanks that one hath deserved, is grown not only honourable, but also
gracious. In suits of favour, the first coming ought to take little place ;
so far forth consideration may be had of his trust, that if intelligence
of the matter could not otherwise have been had but by him, advan
tage be not taken of the note, but the party left to his other means,
and in borne sort recompensed for his discovery. To be ignorant of
the value of a suit, is simplicity ; as well as to be ignorant of the right
thereof, is want of conscience. Secrecy in suits is a great mean of
obtaining ; for voicing them to be in forwardness, may discourage some
kind of suitors; but doth quicken and awake others. Hut timing of the suit
is the principal : timing, I say, not only in respect of the person that
should grant it, but in respect of those which are like to cross it. Let
a man, in the choice of his mean, rather choose the fittest mean than
the greatest mean : and rather them that deal in certain things than
those that are general. The reparation of a denial is sometimes equal
to the first grant ; if a man show himself neither dejected nor discon
tented. " In quum petas, ut ajquum feras ; " is a good rule, where a
man hath strength of favour ; but otherwise a man were better rise in
his suit ; for he that would have ventured at first to have lost the suitor,
will not in the conclusion lose both the suitor and his own former favour.
Nothing is thought so easy a request to a great person, as his letter ;
and yet, if it be not in a good cause, it is so much out of his reputation.
There are no worse instruments than these general contrivers of suits ;
for they arc but a kind of poison and infection to public proceedings.

L. OF STUDIES.

Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their
ch'n-f use for delight, is in privateness and retiring ; for ornament, is
in 'h-roursc; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition of
business. Foi expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of par
ticulars, one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots and
mat Dialling of afters, come best from those that are learned. To

80 ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

spend too much time in studies, is sloth: to use them too much for
ornament, is affectation; to make judgment only by their rules, is the
humour of a scholar. They perfect nature, and are perfected by
experence: for natural abilities are like natural plants, that need
pruning by study ; and studies themselves do give forth directions too
much at large, except they be bounded in by experience. Crafty men
contemn studies ; simple men admire them ; and wise men use them :
for they teach not their own use : but that is a wisdom without them,
and above them, won by observation. Read not to contradict and
confute ; nor to believe and take for granted ; nor to find talk and
discourse ; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be tasted,
others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested ; that
is, some books are to be read only in parts ; others to be read, but not
curiously ; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and
attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts
made of them by others ; but that would be only in the less important
arguments, and the meaner sort of books : else distilled books are like
common distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man;
conference a ready man ; and writing an exact man. And therefore if
a man write little, he had need have a great memory : if he confer
little, he had need have a present wit ; and if he read little, he had
need have much cunning, to seem to know that he doth not. Histories
make men wise ; poets, witty ; the mathematics, subtile ; natural
philosophy, deep ; moral, grave ; logic and rhetoric, able to contend :
4i Abcunt studia in mores." Nay, there is no stond nor impediment in
the wit, but may be wrought out by fit studies ; like as diseases of the
body may have appropriated exercises : bowling is good for the stone
and reins ; shooting for the lungs and breast ; gentle walking for the
stomach; riding for the head ; and the like. So if a man's wit be
wandering, let him study the mathematics ; for in demonstrations, if
his wit be called away never so little, he must begin again: if his wit
be not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him study the school
men ; for they are cymini scctorcs : if he be not apt to beat over
matters, and to call up one thing to prove and illustrate another, let
him study the lawyers' cases : so every defect of the mind may have a
special receipt.

LI. OF FACTION.

Many have an opinion not wise ; that for a prince to govern his
estate, or for a great person to govern his proceedings, according to
the respect of factions, is a principal part of policy; whereas, con
trariwise, the chicfcst wisdom is, cither in ordering those things which
are general, and wherein men of several factions do nevertheless
agree, or in dealing with correspondence to particular persons, one by
one. But I say not, that the consideration of factions is to be neglected.
Mean men, in their rising, must adhere ; but great men, that have
strength in themselves, were better to maintain themselves indifferent
and neutral. Yet even in beginners, ID adhere so moderately, as he
be a man of the one faction, which is most passable with the other,

ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL. \ ,

commonly givcth best way. The lower and weaker faction is the
firmer in conjunction : and it is often seen, that a few that are stiff do
tire out a greater number that are more moderate. \Yhcn o*/e of the
factions is extinguished, the remaining subdivideth : as the faction
between Lucullus and the rest of the nobles of the senate, which they
call optimatt's, held out a while against the faction of Pompey and
Caesar : but when the senate's authority was pulled down, Ca:sar and
Pompey soon after brake. The faction or party of Antonius and
Octavianus Qesar, against Brutus and Cassius, held out likewise for a
time : but when Brutus and Cassius were overthrown, then soon after
Antonius and Octavianus brake and subdivided. These examples are
of wars, but the same holdeth in private factions. And therefore those
that are seconds in factions, do many times, when the faction sub
divideth, prove principals : but many times also they prove cyphers
and cashiered ; for many a man's strength is in opposition ; and when
that failcth he groweth out of use. It is commonly seen, that men
once placed, take in with the contrary faction to that by which they
enter ; thinking belike that they have the first sure, and now are ready
for a new purchase. The traitor in faction lightly goeth away with it:
for when matters have stuck long in balancing, the winning of some
one man casteth them, and he getteth all the thanks. The even car
riage between two factions proceedeth not always of moderation, but
of a trueness to a man's self, with end to make use of both. Certainly
in Italy they hold it a little suspect in popes, when they have often in
their mouth " Padre commune :" and take it to be a sign of one that
meaneth to refer all to the greatness of his own house. Kings had
need beware how they side themselves, and make themselves as of a
faction or party ; for leagues within the state are ever pernicious to
monarchies ; for they raise an obligation paramount to obligation of
sovereignty, and make the king " tanquam unus ex nobis ;" as was to
be seen in the league of France. When factions are carried too high,
and too violently, it is a sign of weakness in princes, and much to the
prejudice both of their authority and business. The motions of factions
under kings ought to be like the motions, as the astronomers speak, of
the inferior orbs ; which may have their proper motions, but yet still
are quietly carried by the higher motion of primum mobile.

LII. OF CEREMONIES AND RESPECTS.

He that is only real, had need have exceeding great parts of virtue:
as the stone had need to be rich that is set without foil : but if a man
mark it well, it is in praise and commendation of men, as it is in
gettings and gains. For the proverb is true, that light gains make
heavy purses : for light gains come thick, whereas great come but now
and then. So it is true, that small matters win great commendation,
because they are continually in use, and in note ; whereas the occasion
of any great virtue comcth but on festivals: therefore it doth much ndd
to a man's reputation, and is, as queen Isabella said, like perpetual
letters commendatory, to have good forms. To attain them, it almost

F2 ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

sufficeth not to despise them : for so shall a man observe them in
others- and let him trust himself with the rest. For if he labour too
much to express them, he shall lose their grace; which is to be natural
and unaffected. Some men's behaviour is like a verse, wherein every
syllable is measured: how can a man comprehend great matters, that
brcakcth his mind too much to small observations ? Not to use
ceremonies at all, is to teach others not to use them again, and so
diminisheth respect to himself; especially they be not to be omitted
to strangers and formal natures : but the dwelling upon them and
exalting them above the moon, is not only tedious, but doth diminish
the faith and credit of him that speaks. And certainly there is a
kind of conveying of effectual and imprinting passages, amongst
compliments, which is of singular use, if a man can hit upon it.
Amongst a man's peers, a man shall be sure of familiarity; and
thercfoie it is good a little to keep state. Amongst a man's in-
rcriors one shall be sure of reverence; and therefore it is good a
little to be familiar, lie that is too much in anything, so that he
giveth another occasion of satiety, makcth himself cheap. To apply
one's self to others is good ; so it be with demonstration that a man
doth it upon regard, and not upon facility. It is a good precept,
generally in seconding another, yet to add somewhat of one's own ; as
if you will grant his opinion, let it be with some distinction; if you will
follow his motion, let it be with condition ; if you allow his counsel, let
it be with alledging farther reason. Men had need beware how they
be too perfect in compliments; for be they never so sufficient other
wise, their enviers will be sure to give them that attribute, to the
disadvantage of their greater virtues. It is loss also in business to be
full of respects, or to be too curious in observing times and oppor
tunities : Solomon saith, "He that considered! the wind shall not sow;
and he that looketh to the clouds shall not reap." A wise man will
make more opportunities than he finds. Men's behaviour should be
like their apparel; not too strait or point device, but free for exercise
or motion.

L1II. OF PRAISE.

Praise is the reflexion of virtue : but it is as the glass or body
which giveth the reflexion. If it be from the common people, it is
commonly false and nought ; and rather followeth vain persons than
virtuous, for the common people understand not many excellent
virtues : the lowest virtues draw praise from them : the middle virtues
work in them astonishment or admiration ; but of the highest virtues
they have no sense or perceiving at all : but showi, and species virtutibus
w';«//f.f, serve best with them. Certainly fame is like a river, that
beareth up things light and swoln, and drowns things weighty and solid :
but if persons of quality and judgment concur, then it is, as the
Scripture saith, " Nomcn bonum instar ungucnti fragrantis." It filleth
all round about, and will not easily away : for the odours of ointments
are more durable than those of flowers. There be so many false

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL. 83

points of praise, that a man may justly hold it a suspect. Some praises
proceed merely of flattery ; and if he be an ordinary flatterer, he will
have certain common attributes, which may serve every mai ; if he be
a cunning flatterer, he will follow the arch-flatterer, which is a man's
self ; and wherein a man thinketh best of himself, therein the flatterer
will uphold him most : but if he be an impudent flatterer, look, wherein
a man is conscious to himseif that he is most defective, and is most
out of countenance in himself, that will the flatterer entitle him to per
force, spreta conscientia. Some praises come of good wishes and
respects, which is a form due in civility to kings and great persons ;
laudan do prce riper e ; when by telling men what they are, they repre
sent to them what they should be. Some men are praised maliciously
to their hurt, thereby to stir envy and jealousy towards them : pessimum
genus inimicornm laitdantium ; insomuch as it was a proverb amongst
the Grecians, that he that was praised to his hurt, should have a push
rise upon his nose ; as we say, that a blister will rise upon one's
tongue that tells a lie. Certainly moderate praise, used with oppor
tunity, and not vulgar, is that which doth the good. Solomon saith,
" Me that praiseth his friend aloud, rising early, it shall be to him no
better than a curse." Too much magnifying of man or matter, doth
irritate contradiction, and procure envy and scorn. To praise man's
self cannot be decent, except it be in rare cases : but to praise a man's
office or profession, he may do it with good grace, and with a kind of
magnanimity. The cardinals of Rome, which are theologues, and
friars, and schoolmen, have a phrase of notable contempt and scorn,
towards civil business ; for they call all temporal business, of wars,
embassages, judicature, and other employments, sbirrerie, which is
under- shcri (Tries, as if they were but matters for under-sheriffs and
catch-polls ; though many times those under-sheriffries do more good
than their high speculations. St. Paul, when he boasts of himself, he
doth oft interlace, " I speak like a fool ; " but speaking of his calling,
he saith, " magnificabo apostolatum meum."

LIV. OF VAIN-GLORY.

It was prettily devised of /Esop : The fly sat upon the axle-tree of
the chariot-wheel, and said, What a dust do I raise ! So are there
some vain persons, that whatsoever goeth alone, or moveth upon
greater means, if they have never so little hand in it, they think it is
they that carry it. They that are glorious must needs be factious ; for
all bravery stands upon comparisons. They must needs be violent to
make good their own vaunts : neither can they be secret, and there
fore not effectual ; but according to the French proverb, " Beaucoup de
bruit, pen de fruit:" Much bruit, little fruit. Yet certainly there is
use of this quality in civil affairs : where there is an opinion, and fame
to be created, cither of virtue or greatness, these men are good
trumpeters. Again, as Titus Livius noteth, in the case of Antiochus
and the ^Etolians, there are sometimes great effects of cross lies ; as
if a man that negotiates between two princes, to draw them to join in

84 ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

a war against the third, doth extol the forces of either of them above
measure, the one to the other : and sometimes he that deals between
man and man, raiseth his own credit with both, by pretending greater
interest than he hath in either. And in these and the like kinds, it
often falls out, that somewhat is produced of nothing; for lies are sum-
cient to breed opinion, and opinion brings on substance. In military
commanders and soldiers, vain-glory is an essential point; for as iron
sharpens iron, so by glory one courage sharpeneth another : in cases
of great enterprise, upon charge and adventure, a composition of
glorious natures doth put life into business ; and those that are of solid
and sober natures, have more of the ballast than of the sail. In fame
of learning, the flight will be slow, without some feathers of ostenta
tion : " Qui de contemnenda gloria libros scribunt, nomen suum
inscribunt." Socrates, Aristotle, Galen, were men full of ostentation.
Certainly vain-glory helpcth to perpetuate a man's memory; and
virtue was never so beholden to human nature, as it received its due
at the second-hand. Neither had the fame of Cicero, Seneca, Plinius
Sccundus. born her age so well, if it had not been joined with some
vanity in themselves : like unto varnish, that makes ceilings not only
shine but last. But all this while, when 1 speak of vain-glory, I mean
not of that property that Tacitus doth attribute to Mucianus," omnium,
qua: dixerat, feccratque, arte quadam ostentator : " for that proceeds
not of vanity, but of natural magnanimity and discretion : and in some
persons, is not only comely but gracious. For excusations, cessions,
modesty itself well governed, are but arts of ostentation. And
amongst those arts, there is none better than that which Plinius
Secundus speaketh of ; which is to be liberal of praise and commenda
tion to others, in that wherein a man's self hath any perfection. For,
saith Pliny, very wittily, " in commending another you do yourself
right ; for he that you commend is either superior to you in that you
commend, or inferior. If he be inferior, if he be to be commended,
you much more. If he be superior, if he be not to be commended,
you much less." Glorious men are the scorn of wise men ; the
admiration of fools ; the idols of parasites ; and slaves of their own
vaunts,

LV. OF HONOUR AND REPUTATION.

The winning of honour is but the revealing of a man's virtue and
worth without disadvantage. For some in their actions do woo and
affect honour and reputation ; which sort of men arc commonly much
talked of, but inwardly little admired. And some, contrariwise, darken
their virtue in the show of it : so as they be undervalued in opinion.
If a man perform that which hath not been attempted before, or
attempted and given over ; or hath been achieved, but not with so
good circumstance : he shall purchase more honour than by effecting
a matter of greater difficulty or virtue, wherein he is but a follower.
If a man so temper his actions, as in some one of them he doth con
tent every faction or combination of people, the music will be the

ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL, 85

fuller. A man is an ill husband of his honour that cntcrcth into any
action, the failing wherein may disgrace him mure than the carrying
of it through can honour him. Honour that is gained and broker
upon another, hath the quickest reflexion, like diamonds cut with
fascets. And therefore let a man contend to excel any competitors of
his in honour, in out-shooting them, if he can, in their own bow. Dis
creet followers and servants help much to reputation: "omnis fama a
domestiris cmanat." Envy, which is the canker of honour, is best
extinguished by declaring a man's self in his ends, rather to seek merit
than fame ; and by attributing a man's successes rather to divine pro
vidence and felicity, than to his own virtue or policy. The true
marshalling of the degrees of sovereign honour, are these. In the first
place arc Conditorcs Imperiorum; founders of states and common
wealths: such as were Romulus, Cyrus, Qusar, Ottoman, Ismacl. In
the second place are Lcgislatores, lawgivers, which are also called
recond founders, or Pcrpctui Principcs, because they govern by their
• ordinances, after they are gone : such were Lycurgus, Solon, Justinian,
Edgar, Alphonsus of Castile the wise, that made the Siete partidas.
In the third place arc Liberatores, or Salvatorcs ; such as compound
the long miseries of civil wars, or deliver their countries from servitude
of strangers or tyrants : as Augustus Ca-sar, Vespasianus, Aurclianus,
Thcodoricus, King Henry the Seventh of England. King Henry the
Fourth of France. In the fourth place are Propagatores, or Pro-
pugnatorcs Impcrii, such as in honourable wars enlarge their
territories, or make noble defence against invaders. And in the last
place arc Pat res Patrue, v/hich reign justly, and make the times good
wherein they live. Both which last kinds need no examples, they are
in such number. Degrees of honour in subjects are : first, Participes
Curarum, those upon whom princes do discharge the greatest weight
of their affairs ; their right hands, as we call them. The next are
Duccs Belli, great leaders; such as arc prince's lieutenants, and do
them notable services in the wars. The third arc Gratiosi, favourites;
such as exceed not this scantling, to be solace to the sovereign, and
harmless to the people : and the fourth, Negotiis Pares ; such as have
great places under princes, and execute their places with sufficiency.
There is an honour likewise, which may be ranked amongst the
greatest, which happcncth rarely : that is, of such as sacrifice them
selves to death or danger for the good of their country ; as was
M. Rcgulus and the two Decii.

LVI. OF JUDICATURE.

Judges ought to remember, that their office is///.r dicfre^ and not
fin t/tirgj- to interpret law, and not to make law, or give law. Else
will it be like the authority claimed by the church of Rome ; which,
under pretext of exposition of scripture, doth not stick to add and
niter ; and to pronounce that which they do not find ; and by show of
antiquity to introduce novelty. Judges ought to be more learned than
witty ; more reverend than plausible ; and more advised than confi-

8<i ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

dent. Above all things, integrity is their portion and proper Virtue,
" Cursed," saith the law, " is he that removeth the land-mark. I he
mislaycr of a mere-stone is to blame : but it is the unjust judge that
is the capital remover of land-marks, when he defineth amiss of lands
and property. One foul sentence doth more hurt than many foul
examples. For these do but corrupt the stream : the other corrupteth
the fountain. So saith Solomon ; " Fons turbatus, et vena corrupta,
cst Justus cadcns in causa sua coram adversario." The office of judges
may have reference unto the parties that sue ; unto the advocates that
plead ; unto the clerks and ministers of justice underneath them ; and
to the sovereign or state above them.

First, for the causes or parties that sue. " There be," saith the
Scripture, "that turn judgment into wormwood ;" and surely there be
also that turn it into vinegar : for injustice makcth it bitter, and delays
make it sour. The principal duty of a judge is, to suppress force and
fraud ; whereof force is the more pernicious when it is open ; and
fraud when it is close and disguised. Add thereto contentious suits,
which ought to be spewed out as the surfeit of courts. A judge
ought to prepare his way to a just sentence, as God useth to prepare
his way, by raising valleys and taking down hills : so when there
appeareth on cither side an high hand, violent prosecution, cunning
advantages taken, combination, power, great counsel, then is the
virtue of a judge seen, to make inequality equal ; that he may plant
his judgment as upon an even ground. " Qui fortiter emungit, elicit
sanguinem ; " and where the wine-press is hard wrought, it yields a
harsh wine, that tastes of the grape-stone. Judges must beware of
hard constructions and strained inferences ; for there is no worse
torture than the torture of laws ; especially in case of laws penal they
ought to have care, that that which was meant for terror be not
turned into rigour ; and that they bring not upon the people that
shower whereof the Scripture speaketh, " pluet super coslaqucos:"
for penal laws pressed are a shower of snares upon the people. There
fore let penal laws, if they have been sleepers of long, or if they be
grown unfit for the present time, be by wise judges confined in the
execution; " Judicis ofiicium est, ut res, ita tcmpora rerum," etc. In
causes of life and death, judges ought, as far as the law pcrmittcth, in
justice to remember mercy : and to cast a severe eye upon the
example, but a merciful eye upon the person.

Secondly, for the advocates and counsel that plead ; patience and
gravity of hearing is an essential part of justice ; and an over-speak
ing judge is no well-tuned cymbal. It is no grace to a judge, first to
lind that which he might have heard in due time from the bar; or to
show quickness of conceit in cutting off evidence or counsel too short ;
or to prevent information by questions, though pertinent. The parts
of a judge in hearing arc four : to direct the evidence; to moderate
length, repetition, or impcrtinency of speech ; to recapitulate, select, and
collate, the material points of that which hath been said ; and to give
the rule or sentence. Whatsoever is above these is too much ; and pro-
cecdeth either of ylory and willingness to speak, or of impatience to

ESSslYS CIVIL AND MORAL. 87

hear, or of shortness of memory, or of want of a stayed and equal
attention. It is a strange thing to sec, that the boldness of advocates
should prevail with judges ; whereas they should imitate God, in
whose scat they sit: who " rcprcsscth the presumptuous, and givcth
grace to the modest." I5ut it is more strange that judges should have
noted favourites ; which cannot but cause multiplication of fees and
suspicion of bye-ways. There is due from the judge to the advocate
some commendation and gracing where causes are well handled, and
fairly pleaded ; especially towards the side which obtaineth not : for that
upholds in the client the reputation of his counsel, and beats down in
him the conceit of his cause. There is likewise due to the public a
civil reprehension of advocates, where there appcareth cunning
counsel, gross neglect, slight information, indiscreet pressing, or an
over-bold defence. And let not the counsel at the bar chop with the
judge, nor wind himself into handling of the cause anew, after the
judge hath declared his sentence : but on the other side, let not the
judge meet the cause halfway; nor give occasion to the party to say,
his counsel or proofs were not heard.

Thirdly, for that that concerns clerks and ministers. The place of
justice is an hallowed place ; and therefore not only the bench, but
the footpace, and precincts, and purprise thereof, ought to be pre
served without scandal and corruption. For certainly "grapes," as
the Scripture saith, "will not be gathered of thorns or thistles:"
neither can justice yield her fruit with sweetness, amongst the briars
and brambles of catching and polling clerks and ministers. The
attendance of courts is subject to four bad instalments. First, certain
peisons that are sowers of suits; which make the court swell, and the
country pine. The second sort is of those that engage courts in
quarrels of jurisdiction, and arc not truly atnici curia", but parasitiir
curitct'\\\ puffing a court up beyond her bounds, for their own scraps and
advantage. The third sort is of those that may be accounted the left
hands of courts; persons that are full of nimble and sinister tricks and
shifts, whereby they pervert the plain and direct courses of courts, and
bring justice into oblique lines and labyrinths. And the fourth is, the
pollcr andcxacler of fees; which justifies the common resemblance of the
courts of justice to the bush, whcreunto while the sheep flies for defence
in weather, he is sure to lose part of his fleece. On the other side, an
ancient clerk, skilful in precedents, wary in proceeding, and under
standing in the business of the court, is an excellent finger of a court,
and cloth many times point the way to the judge himself.

Fourthly, for that which may concern the sovereign and estate.
Judges ought above all to remember the conclusion of the Roman
twelve tables; " salus populi suprema lex;" and to know that laws,
except they be in order to that end, are but things captious, and
oracles not well inspired. Therefore it is an happy thing in a state
when kings and states do often consult with judges ; and again, when
judges do often consult with the king and state ; the one, when there
is matter of law intervenient in business of state; the other, when
there is some consideration of state intervenient in matters of law.

88 ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

For many times the things deduced to judgment may be mcum and
tuum, when the reason and consequence thereof may trench to point
of estate : I call matter of estate, not only the parts of sovereignty, but
whatsoever introduced! any great alteration, or dangerous precedent;
or concerneth manifestly any great portion of people. And let no
man weakly conceive, that just laws and true policy have any anti
pathy ; for they are like the spirits and sinews, that one moves with
the other. Let judges also remember, that Solomon's throne was
supported by lions on both sides; let them be lions, but yet lions
under the throne : being circumspect that they do not check or oppose
any points of sovereignty. Let not judges also be so ignorant of their
own right, as to think there is not left to them, as a principal part of
their office, a wise use and application of laws. For they may
remember what the apostle saith of a greater law than theirs ; " Nos
scimus quia lex bona est, modo quis ea utatur legitime."

LVII. OF ANGER.

To seek to extinguish anger utterly, is but a bravery of Stoics. We
have better oracles : " He angry, but sin not. Let not the sun go down
upon your anger." Anger must be limited and confined, both in ra~e and
in time. We will first speak, how the natural inclination and habit, to
be angry, may be attempered and calmed. Secondly, how the par
ticular motions of anger may be repressed, or at least refrained from
doing mischief. Thirdly, how to raise anger, or appease anger, in
another.

For the first, there is no other way but to meditate and ruminate
well upon the effects of anger, how it troubles man's life. And the best
time to do this, is to look back upon anger when the fit is thoroughly
over. Seneca saith well ; That anger is like ruin, which breaks itself
upon that it falls. The Scripture exhortcth us, "to possess our souls
in patience." Whosoever is out of patience, is out of possession of his
souL Men must not turn bees :

Animasque in vulnere ponun*..

Anger is certainly a kind of baseness ; as it appears well in the
weakness of those subjects in whom it reigns ; children, women, old
folks, sick folks. Only men must beware, that they carry their anger
rather with scorn, than with fear ; so they may seem rather to be above
the injury than below it. Which is a thing easily done, if a man will give
law to himself in it.

For the second point, the causes and motives of anger are chiefly
three. First, to be too sensible of hurt : for no man is angry that feels
not himself hurt : and therefore tender and delicate persons must
needs be oft angry ; they have so many things to trouble them, which
Hore robust natures have little sense of. The next is, the apprehension
and construction of the injury offered to be, in the circumstances
thereof, full of contempt. For contempt is that which putteth an edge
upon anger, »s much or more than the hurt itself. And therefore

FSSsl Y'S CIVIL AND MORAL. 89

when men are ingenious in picking out circumstances of :ontempt,
they do kindle their anger much. Lastly, opinion of the touch of a
man's reputation doth multiply and sharpen anger. Wherein the
remedy is, that a man should have, as Consalvo was wont to say,
" telam honoris crassiorem." But in all refrainings of anger, it is the
best remedy to win time ; and to make a man's self believe, that the
opportunity of his revenge is not yet come: but that he foresees a
time for it, and so to still himself in the mean time, and reserve it.

To contain anger from mischief, though it take hold of a man,
there be two things whereof you must have special caution. The one,
of extreme bitterness of words, especially if they be aculeate and pro
per ; for communici male dicta are nothing so much : and again, that
in anger a man reveal no secrets ; for that makes them not lit for
society. The other, that you do not peremptorily break off, in any
business, in a fit of anger : but howsoever you show bitterness, do not
act anything that is not revocable.

For raising and appeasing anger in another ; it is done chiefly by
choosing of times. When men are frowardest and worst disposed, to
incense them. Again, by gathering, as was touched before, all that
you can find out to aggravate the contempt : and the two remedies are
by the contraries. The former, to take good times, when first to relate
to a man an angry business ; for the first impression is much. And
the other is, to sever, as much as may be, the construction of the injury,
from the point of contempt : imputing it to misunderstanding, fear,
passion, or what you will

LV1II. OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS

Solomon saith, " There is no new thing upon the earth : " so that
as Plato had an imagination, that all knowledge was but remembrance ;
so Solomon giveth his sentence, "that all novelty is but oblivion.'
Whereby you may see, the river of Lethe runneth as well above ground
as below. There is an abstruse astrologer, that saith, if it were not
for two things that are constant (the one is, th.it the fixed stars ever
stand at like distance one from another, and never come nearer
together, nor go farther asunder : the other, that the diurnal motion
perpetually keepcth time) no individual would last one moment.
Certain it is, that the matter is in a continual flux, and never at a stay.
The great winding-sheets, that bury all things in oblivion, are two :
deluges and earthquakes. As for conflagrations, and great droughts,
they do merely dispeople and destroy. Phaeton's car went but a day.
And the three years drought in the time of Elias, was particular,
and left people alive. As for the great burnings by lightnings, which
are often in the West Indies, they are but narrow. Hut in the other
two destructions, by deluge and earthquake, it is farther to be noted,
that the remnant of people which hap to be reserved, are commonly
ignorant and mountainous people, that can give no account of the
time past : so that the oblivion is all one, as if none had been left. If
you consider well of the people of the West Indies, it is very probable

ESS.-lYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

that they arc a newer or a younger people than the people of the old
world : and it is much mere likely, that the destruction that hath
heretofore been there, was not by earthquakes (as the Egyptian priest
told Solon, concerning the island of Atlantis, that it was swallowed
by an earthquake) but rather, that it was desolated by a particular
deluge ; for earthquakes are seldom in those parts : but, on the other
side," they have such pouring rivers, as the rivers of Asia, and Africa,
and Europe, arc but brooks to them. Their Andes likewise, or moun
tains arc far higher than those with us ; whereby it seems that the
remnants of generation of men were in such a particular deluge saved.
As for the observation that Machiavel hath, that the jealousy of sects
doth much extinguish the memory of things; traducing Gregory the
Great, that he did what in him lay to extinguish all heathen antiquities ;
I do not find that those zeals do any great effects nor last long ; as it
appeared in the succession of Sabinian, who did revive the former
antiquities.

The vicissitude or mutations in the superior globe are no fit mat
ter for this present argument. It may be, Plato's great year, if the
world should last so long, would have some effect, not in renewing
the state of like individuals (for that is the fume of those, that conceive
the celestial bodies have more accurate influences upon these things
below than indeed they have), but in gross. Comets, out of the ques
tion, have likewise power and effect over the gross and mass of things :
but they are rather gazed upon, and waited upon i» their journey, than
wisely observed in their effects ; specially in their respective effects :
that is what kind of comet, for magnitude, colour, version of the beams,
placing in the region of heaven, or lasting, produceth what kind of
effects.

There is a toy, which I have heard, and I would not have it given
over, but waited upon a little. They say it is observed in the Low
Countries, I know not in what part, that every five-and-thirty years,
the same kind and sute of years and weathers comes about again : as
great frost, great wet, warm winters, summers with little heat, and the
like ; and they call it the prime. It is a thing I do the rather mention,
because computing backwards, I have found some concurrence.

Hut to leave these points of nature, and to come to men. The
greatest vicissitudes of things amongst men is the vicissitude of sects
and religions, for those orbs rule in men's minds most. The true reli
gion is built upon the rock : the rest arc tossed upon the waves of
time. To speak therefore of the causes of new sects, and to give some
counsel concerning them, as far as the weakness of human judgment
can give stay to so great revolutions.

When the religion formerly received is rent by discords ; and when
the holiness of the professors of religion is decayed and full of scandal:
and withal the times be stupid, ignorant, and barbarous, you may
doubt the springing up of a new sect ; if then also there should arise
any extravagant and strange spirit to make himself author thereof: all
which points held when Mahomet published his law. If a new sect
have not two properties, fear it not, for it will not spread. The one is

ESSsWS CIVIL AND MORAL. «;i

the supplanting, or the opposing of authority established, for nothing
ib iin ue popular than that. The other is the giving licence to pleasures
and a voluptuous life. For as for speculative heresies, such as were in
ancient times the Arians, and now the Arminians, though they work
mightily upon men's wits, yet they do not produce any great alterations
in states, except it be by the help of civil occasions. There be three
manner of plantations of new sects : by the power of signs and
miracles; by the eloquence and wisdom of speech and persuasion ;
and by the sword. For martyrdoms, I reckon them amongst miracles,
because they seem to exceed the strength of human nature; and I
may do the like of superlative and admirable holiness of life. Surely
there is no better way to stop the rising of new sects and schisms, than
to reform abuses ; to compound the smaller differences : to proceed
mildly, and not with sanguinary persecutions ; and rather to take off
the principal authors, by winning and advancing them, than to enrage
them by violence and bitterness.

The changes and vicissitudes in wars are many, but chiefly in three
things : in the scats or stages of the war; in the weapons} and in the
manner of the conduct. Wars, in ancient time, seemed more to move
from East to West : for the Persians, Assyrians, Arabians, Tartars,
which were the invaders, were all eastern people. It is true, the Gauls
were western ; but we read but of two incursions of theirs, the one to
Gallo-Gra>cia, the other to Rome. But east and west have no certain
points of heaven ; and no more have the wars, either from the east or
west, any certainty of observation. But north and south are fixed ;
and it hath seldom or never been seen, that the far southern people
have invaded the northern, but contrariwise ; whereby it is manifest,
that the northern tract of the world is in nature the more martial
region, be it in respect of the stars of that hemisphere, or of the great
continents that arc upon the north ; whereas the south part, for ought
that is known, is almost all sea ; or (which is most apparent) of the
cold of the northern parts; which is that which, without aid of disci
pline, doth make the bodies hardest, and the courages warmest.

Upon the breaking and shivering of a great state and empire, you
may be sure to have wars. For great empires, while they stand, do
enervate and destroy the forces of the natives which they have sub
dued, resting upon their own protecting forces : and then -when they
fail also, all goes to ruin, and they become a prey. So was it in the
decay of the Roman empire, and likewise in the empire of Almaigne,
after Charles the Great, every bird taking a feather ; and were not
unlike to be fa I to Spain, if it should break. The great accessions and
unions of kingdoms do likewise stir up wars. For when a state grows
to an over-power, it is like a great Hood, that will be sure to overflow.
As it hath been seen in the states of Rome, Turkey, Spain, and others.
Look, when the world hath fewest barbarous people, but such as com
monly will not marry or generate, except they know means to live, as
it is almost everywhere at this day, except Tartary, there is no danger
of inundations of people: but when there be great shoals of people,
which go on to populate, without foreseeing means of life and sustenta-

92 ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

lion, it is of necessity that once in an age or two they discharge a
portion of their people upon other nations ; which the ancient northern
people were wont to do by lot, casting lots what part should stay at
home, and what should seek their fortunes. When a warlike state
grows soft and effeminate, they may be sure of a war. For com
monly such states are grown rich in the time of their degenerating ;
and so the prey inviteth, and their decay in valour encourageth a
war.

As for the weapons, it hardly falleth under rule and observation :
yet we see, even they have returns and vicissitudes. For certain it is,
that ordnance was known in the city of the Oxidraces in India, and
was that which the Macedonians called thunder and lightning, and
magic. And it is well known that the use of ordnance have been in
China above two thousand years. The condition of weapons, and
their improvement, are, first, the fetching afar off, for that outruns the
danger, as it is seen in ordnance and muskets. Secondly, the strength
of the percussion, wherein likewise ordnance do exceed all arietations
and ancient inventions. The third is, the commodious use of them, as
that they may serve in all weathers, that the carriage may be light and
manageable, and the like.

For the conduct of the war : at the first, men rested extremely upon
number : they did put the wars likewise upon main force and valour,
pointing days for pitched fields, and so trying it out upon an even
match : and they were more ignorant in arranging and arraying their
battles. After, they grew to rest upon numbers rather competent
than vast ; they grew to advantages of place, cunning diversions*
and the like : and they grew more skilful in the ordering of their
battles.

In the youth of a state, arms do flourish ; in the middle age of a
state, learning ; and then both of them together for a time : in the
declining age of a state, mechanical arts and merchandise. Learning
hath its infancy, when it is but beginning and almost childish : then
its youth, when it is luxuriant and juvenile : then its strength of years,
when it is solid and reduced : and lastly, its old age, when it waxeth
dry and exhaust. But it is not good to look too long upon these
turning wheels of vicissitude, lest we become giddy. As for the
philology of them, that is but a circle of tales, and therefore not fit for
this writing.

OF A KING.

1. A king is a mortal god on earth, unto whom the living God
hath lent his own name as a great honour : but withal told him, he
should die like a man, lest he should be proud and flatter himself, that
God hath with his name imparted unto him his nature also.

2. Of all kind of men, God is the least beholden unto them; for he
doth most for them, and they do ordinarily least for him.

3. A king that would not feel his crown too heavy for him, must
wear it every day ; but if he think it too light, he knoweth not of what
metal it is made.

ESS A ys CIVIL AND MORAL. 93

4. He must make religion the rule of government, and not to
balance the scale : for he that casteth in religion only to make the
scales even, his own weight is contained in those characters, " Mcne,
mene, tckel. upharsin," " He is found too light, his kingdom shall be
taken from him."

5. And that king that holds not religion the best reason of state
is void of all piety and justice, the supporters of a king.

6. He must be able to give counsel himself, but not rely there
upon ; for though happy events justify their counsels, yet it is better
that the evil event of good advice be rather imputed to a subject than
a sovereign.

7. He is the fountain of honour, which should not run with a waste
pipe, lest the courtiers sell the water, and then, as papists say of their
holy wells, it loses the \irtue.

8. He is the life of the law, not only as he is lex loqncns himself,
but IXHMUSC he animateth the dead letter, making it active towards all
his subjects prcrmio ct pa-na.

9. A wise king must do less in altering his laws than he may; for
new government is ever dangerous. It being true in the body politic,
as in the corporal, that " omnis subita immutatio est periculosa ;" and
though it be for the better, yet it is not without a fearful apprehension ;
for he that chungeth the fundamental laws of a kingdom, thmketh there
is no good title to a crown, but by conquest.

10. A king that sctteth to sale seats of justice, opprcsscth the
people : for he teacheth his judges to sell justice ; and " pretio parata
pretio venditur justitia."

1 1. I'ounty and magnificence are virtues very regal, but a prodigal
king is nearer a tyrant than a parsimonious ; for store at home draweth
not his contemplations abroad : but want supplieth itself of what is
next, and many times the next way : a king herein must be wise, and
know what he may justly do.

12. That king which is not feared, is not loved; and he that is
well seen in his craft, must as well study to be feared as loved ; yet
not loved for fear, but feared for love.

13. Therefore, as he must always resemble Him whose great name
he bearcth, and that as in manifesting the sweet influence of his mercy
on the severe stroke of his justice sometimes, so in this not to suffer a
man of death to live ; for besides that the land doth mourn, the re
straint of justice towards sin doth more retard the affection of love,
than the extent of mercy doth inflame it : and sure where love is [illj
bestowed, fear is quite lost.

14. His greatest enemies are his flatterers; for though they ever
speak on his side, yet their words still make against him.

15. The love which a king oweth to a weal public, should not be
restrained to any one particular ; yet that his more special favour do
reflect upon some worthy ones, is somewhat necessary, because there
arc few of that capacity.

1 6. He must have a special care of five things, if he would not
have his a own to J>e but »o h:m infcliv ft licit ,n

04 ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL.

First, that siimtlata sanctitas be not in the Church ; for that Is
duplex iniquitas.

Secondly, that inutitis (rqititas sit not in the chancery ; for that is
inept it tnisericordia.

Thirdly, that nfitis iitiqiii/tis keep not the exchequer ; for that is
cm ride latrocininm.

Fourthly, that fidclis temcritas be not his general ; for that will
bring but scram pcrnitcntiam.

Fifthly, that infidclis prudentia be not his secretary ; for that is
an <jnis snb viridi herba.

"To conclude ; as he is of the greatest power, so he is subject to the
greatest cares, made the servant of his people, or else he were without
a calling at all.

He then that honoureth him not is next an atheist, wanting the fear
of Cod in his heart.

A FRAGMENT OF AN ESSAY ON FAME.

The poets make Fame a monster. They describe her in part
finely and elegantly ; and in part gravely and scntentiously. They
cay : Look, how many feathers she hath, so many eyes she hath under
neath ; so many tongues ; so many voices ; she pricks up so many
ears.

This is a flourish : there follow excellent parables : as, that she
gathcreth strength in going ; that she goeth upon the ground, and yet
hideth her head in the clouds : that in the day-time she sittcth in a
watch tower, and flieth most by night : that she mingleth things done
with things not done ; and that she is a terror to great cities. But
that which passeth all the rest is, they do recount that the Earth,
mother of the giants, that made war against Jupiter, and were by him
destroyed, thereupon in an anger brought forth Fame ; for certain it
is that rebels, figured by the giants, and seditious fames and libels,
arc but brothers and sisters ; masculine and feminine. But now if a
man can tame this monster, and bring her to feed at the hand, and
govern her, and with her fly other ravening fowl, and kill them, it is
somewhat worth. Hut we arc infected with the stile of the poets. To
speak now in a sad and a serious manner ; there is not in all the
politics a place less handled, and more worthy to be handled, than this
of fame. We will therefore speak of these points : what are false
fames ; and what are true fames ; and how they may be best dis
cerned ; how fames may be sown and raised ; how they may be spread
and multiplied ; and how they may be checked and laid dead. And
other things concerning the nature of fame. Fame is of that force, as
there is scarcely any great action wherein it hath not a great part,
especially in the war. Mucianus undid Vitcllius, by a fame that he
scattered, that Vitcllius had in purpose to remove the legions of Syria
into Germany, and the legions of Cermany into Syria ; whereupon
the legions of Syria were infinitely inflamed. Julius Caesar took Pom-
pey unprovided, and laid asleep his industry and preparations, by a

£SS/1 }'$ CIVIL AND MORAL. 95

fame that he cunningly gave out, how Grsar's own soldiers loved him
not ; and being wearied with the wars, and laden with the spoils of
Gaul, would forsake him as soon as he came into Italy. Livia settled
all things for the succession of her son Tiberius, by continual giving
out that her husband Augustus was upon recovery and amen'hnent.
And it is an usual thing with the bashaws, to conceal the death of the
Great Turk from the janizaries and men of war, to save the sacking of
Constantinople and other towns, as their manner is. Thcmistocles
made Xerxes, King of Persia, post apace out of Grecia, by giving out
that the Grecians had a purpose to break his bridge of ships which he
had made athwart the Hellespont. There be a thousand such like
examples, and the more they are, the less they need to be related,
because a man mectcth with them every where : therefore let all wise
governors have as great a watch and care over fames, as they have of
the actions and designs themselves.

AN ESSAY ON DEATH.

I have often thought upon death, and I find it the least of all evils.
All that whirh is past is as a dream ; and he that hoj>es or depends
upon time coming, dreams waking. So much of our life as we have
discovered is already dead ; and all those hours which we share, even
from the breasts of our mother, until we return to our grand-mother
the earth, are part of our dying days ; whereof even this is one, and
those that succeed are of the same nature, for we die daily ; and as
others have given place to us, so we must in the end give way to
others.

Physicians, in the name of death, include all sorrow, anguish,
disease, calamity, or whatsoever can fall in the life of man, either
grievous or unwelcome : but these things are familiar unto us, and we
suffer them every hour; therefore we die daily, and I am older since I
affirmed it.

I know many wise men that fear to die; for the change is bitter,
and flesh would refuse to prove it : besides, the expectation brings
terror, and that exceeds the evil. I Jut I do not believe that any man
fears to be dead, but only the stroke of death : and such arc my IIOJKJS,
that if heaven be pleased, and nature renew but my lease for twenty-
one years more, without asking longer days, I shall be strong enough
to acknowledge without murmuring that I was begotten mortal.
Virtue walks not in the highway, though she go per afta ; this is
strength and the blood to virtue, to condemn things that be desired,
and to neglect that which is feared.

Why should man be in love with his fetters, though of gold ? Aft
thou drowned in security? Then I say thou art i>crfcctly dead. For
though thou movest, yet thy soul is buried within thce, and thy good
angel cither forsakes his guard or sleeps. There is nothing under
heaven, saving a true friend, who cannot be counted within the number
of movcablcs, unto which my heart doth lean. And this dear freedom
hath begotten me this peace, that I mourn not for that end which

0 ESSA YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

must be, nor spend one wish to have one minute added to the incertain
date of my years. It was no mean apprehension of Lucian, who says
of Menippus, that in his travels through hell he knew not the kings of
the earth from other men, but only by their louder cryings and tears:
which was fostered in them through the remorseful memory of the
good days they had seen, and the fruitful havings which they so unwill
ingly left behind them : he that was well seated looked back at his
portion, and was loth to forsake his farm ; and others, either minding
marriages, pleasures, profit, or preferment, desired to be excused from
death's banquet ; they had made an appointment with earth, looking
at the blessings, not the hand that enlarged them, forgetting how
unclothedly they came thither, or with what naked ornaments they
were arrayed.

But were we servants of the precept given, and observers of the
heathen's rule, " memento mori," and not become benighted with this
seeming felicity, we should enjoy it as men prepared to lose, and not
wind up our thoughts upon so perishing a fortune : he that is not
sl.ickly strong, as the servants of pleasure, how can he be found
unready to quit the veil and false visage of his perfection ? The soul
having shaken off her llesh, doth then set up for herself, and contemn
ing things that are under, shows what finger hath enforced her ; for
the souls of idiots are of the same piece with those of statesmen, but
now and then nature is at a fault, and this good guest of ours takes soil
in an imperfect body, and so is slackened from showing her wonders ;
like an excellent musician, which cannot utter himself upon a defective
instrument.

But see how I am swerved, and lose my course, touching at the
soul, that cloth least hold action with death, who hath the surest pro
perty in this frail act; his stile is the end of all flesh, and the beginning
of incorruption.

This ruler of monuments leads men for the most part out of this
world with their heels forward; in token that he is contrary to life;
which being obtained, sends men headlong into this wretched theatre,
where being arrived, their first language is that of mourning. Nor in
my own thoughts, can I compare men more fitly to anything than to
the Indian fig-tree, which being ripened to his full height, is said to
decline his branches down to the earth ; whereof she conceives again,
and they become roots in their own stock.

bo man having derived his being from the earth, first lives the life
of a tree, drawing his nourishment as a plant, and made ripe for death
he tends downwards, and is sowed again in his mother the earth, where
he perisheth not, but expects a quickening.

So we see death exempts not a man from being, but only presents
an alteration ; yet there are some men, 1 think, that stand otherwise
persuaded. Death finds not a worse friend than an alderman, to whose
door I never knew him welcome ; but he is an importunate guest, and
will not be said nay.

And though they themselves shall affirm, that they are not within,
yet the answer will not be taken ; and that which heightens their fear

ESSAYS CIVIL AND MORAL. <}7

is, that they know they arc in danger to forfeit their flesh, but arc not
wise of the payment day : which sickly uncertainty is the occasion
that, for the most part, they step out of this world unfurnished for their
general account, and being all unprovided, desire yet to hold their
gravity, preparing their souls to answer in scarlet.

Thus I gather, that death is disagreeable to most citizens, because
they commonly die intestate: this being a rule, that when their will is
* made, they think themselves nearer a grave than before : now they*
out of the wisdom of thousands, think to scare destiny, from which
there is no appeal, by not making a will, or to live longer by protesta
tion of their unwillingness to die. They are for the most part well
made in this world, accounting their treasure by legions, as men do
devils, their fortune looks towards them, and they are willing to anchor
at it, and desire, if it be possible, to put the evil day far off from them,
and to adjourn their ungrateful and killing period.

No, these are not the men which have bespoken death, or whose
looks are assured to entertain a thought of him.

Death arrives gracious only to such as sit in darkness, or lie heavy
burdened with grief and irons ; to the poor Christian, that sits bound
in the galley; to despairful widows, pensive prisoners, and deposed
kings : to them whose fortune runs back, and whose spirit mutinies ;
unto such death is a redeemer, and the grave a place for retircdncss
and rest.

These wait upon the shore of death, and waft unto him to draw
near, wishing above all others to see his star, that they might be led
to his place, wooing the remorseless sisters to wind down the watch of
their life, and to break them off before the hour.

But death is a doleful messenger to an usurer, and fate untimely
cuts their thread : for it is never mentioned by him, but when rumours
of war and civil tumults put him in mind thereof.

And when many hands are armed, and the peace of a, city in
disorder, and the foot of the common soldiers sounds an alarm on his
stairs, then perhaps such a one, broken in thoughts of his moneys
abroad, and cursing the monuments of coin which are in his house, can
be content to think of death, and, being hasty of perdition, will perhaps
hang himself, lest his throat should be cut ; provided that he may
do it in his study, surrounded with wealth, to which his eye sends a
faint and languishing salute, evc-n upon the turning ofT; remembering
always, that he have time and liberty, by writing, to depute himself U
his own heir.

For that is a great peace to his end, and reconciles him wonder
fully upon the point.

Herein we all dally with ourselves, and are without proof till
necessity. I am not of those that dare promise to pine away myself
in vain-glory, and I hold such to be but feat boldness, and them that
dare commit it tc be vain. Yet, for my part, 1 think nature should do
me great wrong, if I should be so long in dying, as I was in being born.

To speak truth, no man knows the lists of his own patience ; nor
can divine how able he shall be in his sufferings, till the storm comei

ESS A YS CIVIL AND MORAL.

the pcrfectcst virtue being tried in action; but I would, out of a care to
do the best business well, ever keep a guard, and stand upon keeping
i'aith and a good conscience.

And if wishes might find place, I would die together, and not my
mind often, and my body once ; that is, I would prepare for the mes
sengers of death, sickness and affliction, and not wait long, or be
attempted by the violence of pain.

Herein I do not profess myself a Stoic, to hold grief no evil, but
opinion, and a thing indifferent.

But I consent with Cresar, that the suddenest passage is easiest,
and there is nothing more awakens our resolve and readiness to die,
than the quieted conscience, strengthened with opinion that we shall
be well spoken of upon earth by those that are just, and of the family
of virtue; the opposite whereof is a fury to man, and makes even life
unswcet.

Therefore, what is more heavy than evil fame deserved ? Or, like
wise, who can see worse days than he that yet living doth follow at the
funerals of his own reputation ?

I have laid up many hopes, that I am privileged from that kind of
mourning, and could wish the like peace to all those with whom I wage
love.

I might say much of the commodities that death can sell a man ;
but briefly, death is a friend of ours, and he that is not ready to enter
tain him, is not at home. Whilst I am, my ambition is not to fore-flow
the tide ; I have but so to make my interest of it, as I may account
for it ; I would wish nothing but what might better my days, nor desire
any greater place than the front of good opinion. I make not love to
the continuance of days, but to the goodness of them ; nor wish to die,
but refer myself to my hour, which the great Dispenser of all things
hath appointed me ; yet as I am frail, and suffered for the first fault,
were it given me to choose, I should not be earnest to see the evening
of my age ; that extremity of itself being a disease, and a mere return
into infancy : M. that if perpetuity of life might be given me, I should
think what the Greek poet said, Such an age is a mortal evil. And
since I must needs be dead, I require it may not be done before mine
enemies, that I be not stript before I be cold ; but before my friends.
The night was even now ; but that name is lost ; it is not now late,
but early. Mine eyes begin now to discharge their watch, and com
pound with this fleshly weakness for a time of perpetual rest; and I
shall presently be as happy for a few hours, as I had died the first hour
I was born.

THE FIRST ROOK OF THE PKOFICIENCE AND
ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

To THE KING.

'T'H ERE were under the law, excellent king, both daily sacrifices,
L and freewill offerings : the one proceeding upon ordinary obser
vance, the other upon a devout cheerfulness : in like manner there
belongcth to kings from their servants, both tribute of duty, and
presents of affection. In the former of these, I hope I shall not live
to be wanting, according to my most humble duty, and the good
pleasure of your majesty's employments : for the latter, I thought it
more respective to make choice of some oblation, which might rather
refer to the propriety and excellency of your individual person, than
to the business of your crown and state.

Wherefore representing your majesty many times unto my mind,
and beholding you not with the inquisitive eye of presumption, to
discover that which the Scripture telleth me is inscrutable, but with
the observant eye of duty and admiration : leaving aside the other
parts of your virtue and fortune, I have been touched, yea, and
possessed with an extreme wonder at those your virtues and faculties,
which the philosophers call intellectual: the largeness of your capacity,
the faithfulness of your memory, the swiftness of your apprehension,
the penetration of your judgment, and the facility and order of your
elocution : and I have often thought, that of all the persons living, that
I have known, your majesty were the best instance to make a man of
Plato's opinion, that all knowledge is but remembrance, and that the
mind of man by nature knoweth all things, and hath but her own
native and original notions (which by the strangeness and darkness
of this tabernacle of the body are sequestered; again revived and
restored : such a light of n.xture I have observed in your majesty,
and such a readiness to take tlame, and blaze from the least occasion
presented, or the least spark of another's knowledge delivered. And
as the Scripture saith of the wisest king, " That his heart was as the
sands of the sea ;" which though it be one of the largest bodies, yet
it consisteth of the smallest and finest portions : so hath Ciod given
your majesty a composition of understanding admirable, being able
to compass and comprehend the greatest matters, and nevertheless

ioo ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Boot?

to touch and apprehend the least ; whereas it should seem an impossi
bility in nature, for the same instrument to make itself lit for great
and small works. And for your gift of speech, I call to mind what
Cornelius Tacitus saith of Augustus Cesar: "Augusto proflucns, et qure
principem deccret, eloqucntia fuit." For, if we note it well, speech
that is uttered with labour and difficulty, or speech that savoureth of
the affectation of art and precepts, or speech that is framed after the
imitation of some pattern ofcloqucp.ee, though never so excellent ; all
this has somewhat servile, and holding of the subject. But your
majesty's manner of speech is indeed prince-like, flowing as from a
fountain, and yet streaming and branching itself into nature's order,
hill of facility and felicity, imitating none, and inimitable by any.
And as in yoiir civil estate there appeareth to be an emulation and
contention of your majesty's virtue with your fortune ; a virtuous
disposition with a fortunate regiment ; a virtuous expectation, when
lime was, of your greater fortune, with a prosperous possession thereof
in the due time ; a virtuous observation of the laws of marriage, with
most blessed and happy fruit of marriage ; a virtuous and most
Christian desire of peace, with a fortunate inclination in your
neighbour princes thereunto: so likewise in these intellectual matters,
there sccmeth to be no less contention between the excellency of your
majesty's gifts of nature, and the universality and perfection of your
learning. For I am well assured, that this which I shall say is no
amplification at all, but a positive and measured truth ; which is, that
there hath not been since Christ's time any king, or temporal monarch,
which hath been so learned in all literature and erudition, divine and
human. For let a man seriously and diligently revolve and peruse
the succession of the cmperois of Rome, of which Caesar the dictator,
who lived some years before Christ, and Marcus Antoninus, were the
best learned ; and so descend to the emperors of Graccia, or of the
West ; and then to the lines of France, Spain, England, Scotland,
and the rest, and he shall find this judgment is truly made. For it
scemcth much in a king, if, by the compendious extractions of other
men's wits and labours, he can take hold of any superficial ornaments
and shows of learning, or if he countenance and prefer learning and
learned men; but to drink indeed of the true fountains of learning,
nay, to have such a fountain of learning in himself, in a king, and in
a king born, is almost a miracle. And the more, because there is
met in your majesty a rare conjunction, as well of divine and sacred
literature, as of profane and human ; so as your majesty standeth
invested of that triplicity, which in great veneration was ascribed to
the ancient Hermes: the power and fortune of a king, the knowledge
and illumination of a priest, and the learning and universality of\i
philosopher. This propriety, inherent and individual attribute in
your majesty, dcservcth to be expressed, not only in the fame and
admiration of the present time, nor in the history or tradition of the
j'gcs succeeding ; but also in some solid work, fixed memorial, and
immortal monument, bearing a character or signature, both of the
)f a king, and the difference and perfection of such a king

1-1 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARMXG. 101

Therefore I did conclude with myself, that I could not make unto
your majesty a better oblation, than of some treatise lending to that
end, \vhcrcof the sum will consist of these two parts ; the former
concerning the excellency of learning and knowledge, and the excel
lency of the merit and true glory in the augmentation and propagation
thereof; the latter, what the particular acts and works are, which
have been embraced and undertaken for the advancement of learning:
and again, what defects and undervalues I find in such particular acts:
to the end, that though I cannot positively or affirmatively advise
) our majesty, or propound unto you framed parlici lars ; yet I may
excite your princely cogitations to visit the excellent treasure of your
own mind, and thence to extract particulars for this purpose, agreeable
to your magnanimity and wisdom.

In the entrance to the former of these, to clear the way, and, as
it were, to make silence, to have the true testimonies concerning the
dignity of learning to be better heard, without the interruption of
tacit objections ; 1 think good to deliver it from the discredits and
disgraces which it hath received, all from ignorance, but ignorance
severally disguised ; appearing sometimes in the zeal and jealousy
of divines, sometimes in the severity and arrogancy of politicians, and
sometimes in the errors and imperfections of learned men themselves.

I hear the former sort say, that knowledge is of those things
which are to be accepted of with great limitation and caution ; that
the aspiring to overmuch knowledge, was the original temptation and
sin, whereupon ensued the fall of man ; that knowledge hath in it
somewhat of the serpent, and therefore where it cntcreth into a man
it makes him swell; Scicntia inflat: that Solomon gives a censure,
" That there is no end of making books, and that much reading is
weariness of the flesh ;" and again in another place, "That in spacious
knowledge there is much contristation, and that he that increascth
knowledge increaseth anxiety;" that St. Paul giv a caveat, " That
we be not spoiled through vain philosophy ;" that experience demon
strates how learned men have been arch-heretics, how learned times
have been inclined to atheism, and how the contemplation of second
causes doth derogate from our dependence upon God, who is the
first cause.

To discover then the ignorance and error of this opinion, and the
misunderstanding in the grounds thereof, it may well appear these
men do not observe or consider, that it was not the pure knowledge of
nature and universality, a knowledge by the light whereof man did give
names unto other creatures in paradise, as they were brought before
him,according unto their proprieties, which gave the occasion to the fall ;
but it was the proud knowledge of good and evil, with an intent in man
to give law unto himself, and to depend no more upon God's com
mandments, which was the form of the temptation. Neither is it any
quantity of knowledge, how great soever, that can make the mind of
man to swell ; for nothing can fill, much less extend the soul of man.
but God, and the contemplation of God; and therefore Solomon.

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Rook

speaking of the two principal senses of inquisition, the eye and ear,
aftirmeth that the eye is never satisfied with seeing, nor the ear with
hearing ; and if there be no fulness, then is the continent greater than
the content : so of knowledge itself, and the mind of man, whereto the
senses arc but reporters, he dcfmeth likewise in these words, placed
after that calendar or ephemerides, which he maketh of the diversities
of times and seasons for all actions and purposes ; and concludeth
thus : " God hath made all things beautiful, or decent, in the true
return of their seasons : Also he hath placed the world in man's heart,
yet cannot man find out the work which God worketh from the begin
ning to the end :" declaring, not obscurely, that God hath framed the
mind of man as a mirror, or glass, capable of the image of the univer
sal world, and joyful to receive the impression thereof, as the eye joyeth
to receive light : and not only delighted in beholding the variety of
things, and vicissitude of times, but raised also to find out and discern
the ordinances and decrees, which throughout all those changes arc
infallibly observed. And although he doth insinuate, that the supreme
or summary law of nature, which he callcth, " The work which God
worketh from the beginning to the end, is not possible to be found out
by man ; " yet that cloth not derogate from the capacity of the mind,
but may be referred to the impediments, as of shortness of life, ill con
junction of labours, ill tradition of knowledge over from hand to hand,
and many other inconveniencics, whereunto the condition of man is
subject. For that nothing parcel of the world is denied to man's
inquiry and invention, he doth in another place rule over, when
he saith, "The spirit of man is as the lamp of God, wherewith he
searchcth the inwardness of all secrets." If then such be the capacity
and receipt of the mind of man, it is manifest, that there is no danger
at all in the proportion or quantity of knowledge, how large soever, lest
it should make it swell or out-compass itself; 'no, but it is merely the
quality of knowledge, which, be it in quantity more or less, if it be taken
without the true corrective thereof, hath in it some nature of venom or
malignity, and some effects of that venom, which is ventosity or swell
ing. This corrective spice, the mixture whereof maketh knowledge so
sovereign, is charity, which the apostle immediately addcth to the
former clause ; for so he saith, " knowledge bloweth up, but charity
buildeth up;" not unlike unto that which he delivereth in another
place: "If I spake," saith he, "with the tongues of men and angels,
and had not charity, it were but as a tinkling cymbal ;" not but that it
is an excellent thing to speak with the tongues of men and angels, but
because, if it be severed from charity, and not referred to the good of
men and mankind, it hath rather a sounding and unworthy glory, than
a meriting and substantial virtue. And as for that censure of Solomon,
concerning the excess of writing and reading books, and the anxiety of
spirit which redoundeth from knowledge ; and that admonition of St.
Paul, " That we be not seduced by vain philosophy ; " let those places
be rightly understood, and they do indeed excellently set forth the true
bounds and limitations, whereby human knowledge is confined and
circumscribed ; and yet without any such contracting or coarctation,

I . I A ni'AKCEMEKT OF LEAKXfXG. 103

but that it may comprehend all the universal nature of things : for
these limitations are three: the first, that we do not so place our felicity
in knowledge, as we forget our mortality. The second, that we make
application of our knowledge, to give ourselves repose and contentment,
and not distaste or repining. The third, that we do not presume by
the contemplation of nature to attain to the mysteries of God. For as
touching the first of these, Solomon doth excellently expound himself
in another place of the same book, where he saith ; " I saw well that
knowledge reccdeth as far from ignorance, as light doth from darkness;
and that the wise man's eyes keep watch in his head, whereas the
fool roundeth about in darkness ; but withal I learned, that the same
mortality involvcth them both." And for the second, certain it is,
there is no vexation or anxiety of mind which resulteth from knowledge,
otherwise than merely by accident ; for all knowledge and wonder
(which is the seed of knowledge) is an impression of pleasure in itself :
but when men fall to framing conclusions out of their knowledge, apply
ing it to their particular, and ministring to themselves thereby weak
fears, or vast desires, there groweth that carefulness and trouble of
mind which is spoken of : for then knowledge is no more Lumen
siccum, whereof Heraclitus the profound said, " Lumen siccum optima
anima ;" but it bccometh Lumen madidam, or maceratum, being
steeped and infused in the humours of the affections. And as for the
third point, it dcservcth to be a little stood upon, and not to be lightly
passed over : for if any man shall think by view and inquiry into these
sensible and material things to attain that light, whereby he may reveal
unto himself the nature or will of God, then indeed is he spoiled by
vain philosophy : for the contemplation of God's creatures and works
produceth (having regard to the works and creatures themselves)
knowledge ; but, having regard to God, no perfect knowledge, but
wonder, which is broken knowledge. And therefore it was most aptly
said by one of Plato's school, " That the sense of man carricth a
resemblance with the sun, which, as we see openeth and revcaleth all
the terrestrial globe ; but then again it obscureth and conccaleth the
stars and celestial globe : so doth the sense discover natural things,
but it darkcncth and sluitteth up divine." And hence it is true, that it
hath proceeded, that divers great learned men have been heretical,
whilst they have sought to tly up to the secrets of the Deity by the
waxen wings of the senses : and as for the conceit, that too much know
ledge should incline a man to atheism, and that the ignorance of second
causes should make a more devout dependence upon God, who is the
first cause : First, it is good to ask the question which Job asked
of his friends : " Will you lie for God, as one man will do for another,
to gratify him?" For certain it is, that God workcth nothing in nature
but by second causes ; and if they would have it otherwise believed, it
is mere imposture, as it were in favour towards God ; and nothing else
but to oiler to the author of truth the unclean sacrifice of a lie. Hut
farther, it is an assured truth, and a conclusion of experience, that a
little or superficial knowledge of philosophy may incline the mind of
man to atheism, but a farther proceeding therein doth bring the mind

i°4 ADVANCEMENT Ol< LEARNING. [Book

back again to religion ; for in the entrance of philosophy, when the
second causes, which are next unto the senses, do offer themselves to
the mind of man, if it dwell and stay there it may induce some oblivion
ot the highest cause ; but when a man passcth on farther, and secth
the dependence of causes and the works of providence ; then, accord
ing to the allegory of the poets, he will easily believe that the highest
link of nature's chain must needs be tied to the foot of Jupiter's chair,
To conclude therefore : let no man, upon a weak conceit of sobriety,
or an ill-applied moderation, think or maintain, that a man can search
too far, or be too well studied in the book of God's word, or in the book
of God's works ; divinity or philosophy ; but rather let men endeavour
an endless progress, or proficience in both ; only let men beware that
they apply both to charity, and not to swelling ; to use, and not to
ostentation ; and again, that they do not unwisely mingle, or confound
these learnings together.

And as for the disgraces which learning reccivcth from politicians,
they be of this nature ; that learning doth soften men's minds, and
makes them more unapt for the honour and exercise of arms ; that it
doth mar and pervert men's dispositions for matter of government and
policy, in making them too curious and irresolute by variety of reading,
or too peremptory or positive by strictness of rules and axioms, or too
immoderate and overweening by reason of the greatness of examples,
or too incompatible and differing from the times, by reason of the
dissimilitude of examples ; or at least, that it doth divert men's travels
from action and business, and bringeth them to a love of leisure and
privatencss ; and that it doth bring into states a relaxation of dis
cipline, whilst every man is more ready to argue than to obey and
execute. Out of this conceit, Cato, surnamed the Censor, one of the
wisest men indeed that ever lived, when Carneades the philosopher
<:amo in embassage to Rome, and that the young men of Rome began
to flock about him, being allured with the sweetness and majesty of
his eloquence and learning, gave counsel in open senate, that they
should give him his dispatch with all speed, lest he should infect and
inchant the minds and affections of the youth, and at unawares bring
in an alteration of the manners and customs of the state. Out of the
same conceit, or humour, did Virgil, turning his pen to the advantage
of his country, and the disadvantage of his own profession, make a
kind of separation between policy and government, and between arts
and sciences, in the verses so much renowned, attributing and
challenging the one to the Romans, and leaving and yielding the other
to the Grecians ; " Tu rcgcre imperio populos, Romane, memento, Hai
tibi erunt artes, etc." So likewise we see that Anytus, the accuser of
Socrates, laid it as an article of charge and accusation against him,
that he did, with the variety and power of his discourses and dis
putations, withdraw young men from due reverence to the laws and
customs of their country ; and that he did profess a dangerous and
pernicious science, which was, to make the worse matter seem the
better, and to suppress truth by force of eloquence and speech.

Hut these, and the like imputatiors, have rather a countenance of

I.] ADVANCEMENT or

gravity, than any ground of justice : for experience doth warrant, that,
both in persons and in times, there hath been a meeting and con
currence in learning and arms, flourishing and excelling in the same
men, and the same ages. For, as for men, there cannot be a belter,
nor the like instance, as of that pair, Alexander the Great and Julius
Caesar the dictator ; whereof the one was Aristotle's scholar in
philosophy, and the other was Cicero's rival in eloquence : or if any
man had rather call for scholars, that were great generals, than
generals that were great scholars, let him take Epaminondas the
Theban,or Xcnophon the Athenian ; whereof the one was the first that
abated the power of Sparta, and the other was the first that made war
to the overthrow of the monarchy of Persia. And this concurrence is
yet more visible in times than in persons, by how much an a-;c is
greater object than a man. For both in /Kgypt, Assyria, Persia,
Gr:ecia, and Rome, the same times that are most renowned for arms,
are likewise most admired for learning ; so that the greatest authors
and philosophers, and the greatest captains and governors have lived
in the same ages. Neither can it otherwise be: for as, in man, the
ripeness of the strength of body and mind comcth much about an age,
save that the strength of the body comcth somewhat the more early ;
so, in states, arms and learning, whereof the one corresponded to the
body, the other to the soul of man, have a concurrence or near
sequence in times.

And for matter of policy and government, that learning should
rather hurt, than enable thereunto, is a thing very improbable : we see
it is accounted an error to commit a natural body to empiric physi
cians, which commonly have a few pleasing receipts, whereupon they
are confident and adventurous, but know neither the causes of diseases,
nor the complexions of patients, nor peril of accidents, nor the true
method of cures : we sec it is a like error to rely upon advocates or
lawyers, which are only men of practice, and not grounded in their
books, who arc many times easily surprised, when matter fallcth out
besides their experience, to the prejudice of the causes they handle : so,
by like reason, it cannot be but a matter of doubtful consequence, if
states be managed by empiric statesmen, not well mingled with men
grounded in learning. Hut contrariwise, it is almost without instance
contradictory, that ever any government was disastrous that was in the
hands of learned governors. For howsoever it hath been ordinary
with politic men to extenuate and disable learned men by the names
of pedants ; yet in the records of time it appeal eth, in many particulars,
that the governments of princes in minority (notwithstanding the
infinite disadvantage of that kind of state) have nevertheless excelled
the government of princes of mature age, even for that reason which
they seek to traduce, which is, that by that occasion the state hath been
in the hands of pedants : for so was the state of Rome for the first five
years, which are so much magnified, during the minority of Nero, in
the hands of Seneca, a pedant : so it was again for ten years space or
more during the minority of Gordianus the younger, with great
applause andcontentation in the hands of Misithcus, a pedant : so \\as

ioT, ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Kook

it before that, in the minority of Alexander Scverus, in like happiness,
in hands not much unlike, by reason of the rule of the women who
were aided by the teachers and preceptors. Nay, let a man look into
the government of the bishops of Rome, as by name, into the govern
ment of Pius Quintus, and Sextus Quintus, in our times, who were
both at their entrance esteemed but as pedantical friars, and he shall
lind that such popes do greater things, and proceed upon truer
principles of state, than those which have ascended to the papacy from
an education and breeding in affairs of state and courts of princes ; for
although men bred in learning are perhaps to seek in points of con
venience, and accommodating for the present, which the Italians call
ni^inni di stato, whereof the same Pius Quintus could not hear spoken
with patience, terming them inventions against religion and the moral
virtues ; yet on the other side, to recomixmsc that, they are perfect in
those same plain grounds of religion, justice, honour, and moral virtue,
which if they be well and watchfully pursued, there will be seldom use
of those other, no more than of physic in a sound or well dieted body.
Neither can the experience of one man's life furnish examples and
precedents for the events of one man's life : for as it happeneth some
times that the grandchild, or other descendant, resembleth the ancestor,
more than the son ; so many times occurrences of present times may
sort better with ancient examples, than with those of the later or im
mediate times : and lastly, the wit of one man can no more countervail
learning, than one man's means can hold way with a common purse.

And as for those particular seducements, or indispositions of the
mind for policy and government, which learning is pretended to in
sinuate ; if it be granted that any such thing be, it must be remembered
withal, that learning ministereth in every of them greater strength of
medicine or remedy, than it offereth cause of indisposition or infirmity :
for if, by a secret operation, it make men perplexed and irresolute, on
the other side, by plain precept, it u-ucheth them when, and upon what
ground, to resolve ; yea, and how to carry things in suspense without
prejudice, till they resolve : if it make men positive and regular, it
teacheth them what things are in their nature demonstrative, and what
are conjectural ; and as well the use of distinctions and exceptions, as
the latitude of principles and rules. If it mislead by disproportion, or
dissimilitude of examples, it teacheth men the force of circumstances,
the errors of comparisons, and all the cautions of application : so that
in all these it doth rectify more effectually than it can pervert. And
these medicines it convcyeth into men's minds much more forcibly by
the quickness and penetration of examples. For let a man look into
the errors of Clement the seventh, so lively described by Guicciardine,
who served under him, or into the errors of Cicero, painted out by his
own pencil in his epistles to Atticus, and he will fly apace from being
irresolute. Let him look into the errors of Phocion, and he will
beware how he be obstinate or inflexible. Let him but read the fable
of Ixion, and it will hold him from being vapon .is or imaginative.
Let him look into the errors of Cato the second, and he will never be
one of the Antipodes, to tread opposite to the present world.

I.-J ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

And for the conceit, that learning should dispose men to leisure
and privateness, and make men slothful ; it were a strange thing if
that, which accustomcth the mind to a perpetual motion and agitation,
should induce slothfulncss ; whereas contrariwise it may be truly
affirmed, that no kind of men love business for itself, but those that
are learned : for other persons love it for profit ; as an hireling, that
loves the work for the wages ; or for honour, as because it bearcth them
up in the eyes of men, and refresheth their reputations, which other
wise would wear; or because it putteth them in mind of their fortune,
and giveth them occasion to pleasure and displeasure ; or because it
exerciseth some faculty wherein they take pride, and so entertaincth
them in good humour and pleasing conceits towards themselves ; or
because it advanceth any other their ends. So that, as it is said of
untrue valours, that some men's valours are in the eyes of them that
look on; so such men's industries are in the eyes of others, or at
least in regard of their own dcsigmncnts : only learned men love
business, as an action according to nature, as agreeable to health of
mind, as exercise is to health of body, taking pleasure in the action
itself, and not in the purchase: so that of all men they are the most
indefatigable, if it be towards any business which can hold or detain
their mind

And it any man be laborious in reading and study, and yet idle
in business and action, it groweth from some weakness of body, or
softness of spirit ; such as Seneca speakcth of : " Quidam tarn stint
umbratiles, ut putent in turbido esse, quicquid in luce cst;"and not
of learning: well may it be, that such a point of a man's nature may
make him give himself to learning, but it is not learning that brcedeth
any such point in his nature.

And that learning should take up too much time or leisure: I
answer ; the most active or busy man, that hath been or can l>e, hath,
no question, many vacant times of leisure, while he expecteth the
tides and n. turns of business (except he be either tedious and of no
dispatch, or lightly and unworthily ambitious to meddle in things
that may be better done by others:) and then the question is but,
how those spaces and times of leisure shall be filled and spent ;
whether in pleasures, or in studies ; as was well answered by Demos
thenes to his adversary yKschines, that was a man given to pleasure,
and told him, " that his orations did smell of the lamp:" " Indeed,"
said Demosthenes, " there is a great difference between the things
that you and 1 do by lamp-light." So as no man need doubt, that
learning will expulse business, but rather it will keep and defend the
possession of the mind against idleness and pleasure ; which other
wise, at unawares, may enter to the prejudice of both.

Again, for that other conceit, that learning should undermine the
reverence of laws and government, it is assuredly a mere depravation
and calumny, without all shadow of truth. For to say, that a blind
custom of obedience should be a surer obligation, than duty taught
and understood ; it is to affirm, that a blind man may tread surer by
a guide, than a seeing man can by a light. And it is without all

io8 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Hook

controversy, that learning doth make the minds of men gentle,
generous, man i able, and pliant to government ; whereas ignorance
makes them churlish, thwarting, and mutinous ; and the evidence of
time doth clear this assertion, considering that the most barbarous,
rude, and unlearned times, have been most subject to tumults, sedi
tions, and changes.

And as to the judgment of Cato the Censor, he was well punished
for his blasphemy against learning, in the same kind wherein he
offended ; for when he was past threescore years old .he was taken
with an extreme desire to go to school again, and to learn the Greek
tongue, to the end to peruse the Greek authors, which doth well
demonstrate, that his former censure of the Grecian learning was
rather an affected gravity, than according to the inward sense of his
own opinion. And as for Virgil's verses, though it pleased him to
brave the world, in taking to the Romans the art of empire, and
leaving to others the arts of subjects ; yet so much is manifest, that
the Romans never ascended to that height of empire, till the time they
had ascended to the height of other arts. For in the time of the two
first Cxsars, which had the art of government in greatest perfection,
there lived the best poet, Virgilius Maro ; the best historiographer,
Titus Livius ; the best antiquary, Marcus Varro ; and the best or
second orator, Marcus Cicero, that to the memory of man are known.
As for the accusation of Socrates, the time must be remembered when
it was prosecuted ; which was under the thirty tyrants, the most base,
bloody, and envious persons that have governed ; which revolution
of state was no sooner over, but Socrates, whom they had made a
person criminal, was made a person heroical, and his memory
accumulate with honours divine and human ; and those discourses
of his, which were then termed corrupting of manners, were after
acknowledged for sovereign medicines of the mind and manners,
and so have been received ever since, till this day Let this therefore
serve for answer to politicians, which, in their humorous severity, or
in their feigned gravity, have presumed to throw imputations upon
learning ; which rcdargution, nevertheless, (save that we know not
whether our labours may extend to other ages) were not needful for
the present, in regard of the love r.nd reverence towards learning,
which the example and countenance of two so learned princes, Queen
Elizabeth and your majesty, being as Castor and Pollux, lucida sidcm,
stars of excellent light and most benign influence, hath wrought in all
men of place and authority in our nation.

Now therefore we come to that third sort of discredit, or diminu
tion of credit, that groweth unto learning from learned men them
selves, which commonly cleaveth fastest : it is either from their
fortune, or from their manners, or from the nature of their studies.
For the first, it is not in their power ; and the second is accidental ;
the third only is proper to be handled : but because we are not in
hand with true measure, but with popular estimation and conceit, it
is not amiss to speak somewhat of the two former. The derogations,
therefore, which grow to learning from the fortune or condition of

I.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEAKXfKG. 109

learned men, are cither in respect of scarcity of means, or in respect
of privateness of life, and meanness of employments.

Concerning want, and that it is the case of learned men usually
to begin with little, and not to grow rich so fast as other men, by
reason they convert not their labours chiefly to lucre and increase :
It were good to leave the common place in commendation of some
friar to handle, to whom much was attributed by Machiavcl in this
point ; when he said, "that the kingdom of the clergy had been long
before at an end, if the reputation, and reverence towards the poverty
of friars had not borne out the scandal of the superfluities and excesses
of bishops and prelates." So a man might say, that the felicity and
delicacy of princes and great persons had long since turned to rude
ness and barbarism, if the poverty of learning had not kept up civility
and honour of life: but, without any such advantages, it is worthy
the observation, what a reverend and honoured thing poverty of
fortune was, for some ages, in the Roman state, which nevertheless
was a state without paradoxes ; for we see what Titus Livius saith
in his introduction: u C.eterum aut me amor negotii suscepti fallit,
aut nulla unquam respublica nee major, nee sanctior, nee bonis
cxemplis ditior fuit ; nee in quam tarn sera? avaritia luxuriaquc
immigravcrint ; nee ubi tantus ac tarn diu paupertati ac parsimonkc
honos fuerit." We see likewise, after that the state of Rome was not
itself, but did degenerate, how that person, that took upon him to be
counsellor to Julius Caesar, after his victory, where to begin his resto
ration of the state, maketh it of all points the most summary to take
away the estimation of wealth: " Verum hzec ct omnia mala paritcr
cum honore pecuniar desincnt, si neque magistratus, ncque alia vulgo
cupienda, vcnalia crunt." To conclude this point, as it was truly
said, that " rubor est virtutis color," though sometimes it comes from
vice: so it may be fitly said, that " paupertas est virtutis fortuna ;"
though sometimes it may proceed from misgovernment and accident.
Surely Sobmon hath pronounced it both in censure, " Qui fcstinat
ad divitias, non crit insons ;" and in precept ; "Buy the truth and
sell it not ;" and so of wisdom and knowledge ; judging that means
were to be spent upon learning, and not learning to be applied to
means. And as for the privateness, or obscurencss (as it may be in
vulgar estimation accounted) of life of contemplative men ; it is a
theme so common, to extol a private life, not taxed with sensuality
and sloth, in. comparison, and to the disadvantage of a civil life, for
Illfety, liberty, pleasure, and dignity, or at least freedom from indignity,
as no man handleth it, but handleth it well : such a consonancy it
liath to men's conceits in the expressing, and to men's consents in
the allowing. This only I will add, that learned men, forgotten in
States, and not living in the eyes of men, are like the images of Cassius
and lirutus in the funeral of Junia ; of which not being represented,
as many others were, Tacitus saith, " Eo ipso praefulgebant, quod non
rfoebantur."

And for the meanness of employment, that which is most traduced
to contempt, is, that the government of youth is commonly allotted to

1 10 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

them ; which age, because it is the age of least authority, it is trans
ferred to the disesteeming of those employments wherein youth is con
versant, and which are conversant about youth. But how unjust this
traduccmcnt is (if you will reduce things from popularity of opinion to
measure of reason) may appear in that we see men are more curious
what they put into anew vessel, than into a vessel seasoned ; and what
mould they lay about a young plant, than about a plant corroborate ;
so as the weakest terms and times of all things use to have the best
applications and helps. And will you hearken to the Hebrew
Rabbins ? " Your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall
dream dreams ;" say they, youth is the worthier age, for that visions are
nearer apparitions of God than dreams. And let it be noted, that
howsoever the condition of life of pedants hath been scorned upon
theatres, as the ape of tyranny ; and that the modern looseness or
negligence hath taken no due regard to the choice of schoolmasters
and tutors ; yet the ancient wisdom of the best times did always
make a just complaint, that states were too busy with their laws, and
too negligent in point of education : which excellent part of ancient
discipline hath been in some sort revived, of late times, by the colleges
of the Jesuits ; of whom, although in regard of their superstition I may
say "quo meliores, eo deteriores;" yet in regard of this, and some
other points concerning human learning and moral matters, I may say,
as Agesilaus said to his enemy Pharnabasus, " Talis quum sis, utinam
nostcr esses." And thus much touching the discredits drawn from the
fortunes of learned men.

As touching the manners of learned men, it is a thing personal and
individual : and no doubt there be amongst them, as in other pro
fessions, of all temperatures ; but yet so as it is not without truth, which
is said, that " abeunt studia in mores," studies have an influence and
operation upon the manners of those that are conversant in them.

But upon an attentive and indifferent review, I, for my part, cannot
find any disgrace to learning can proceed from the manners of learned
men not inherent to them as they are learned ; except it be a fault
(which was the supposed fault of Demosthenes, Cicero, Cato the
second, Seneca, and many more) that, because the times they read of
are commonly better than the times they live in, and the duties taught
better than the duties practised, they contend sometimes too far to
bring things to perfection, and to reduce the corruption of manners to
honesty of precepts, or examples of too great height. And yet hereof
they have caveats enough in their own walks. For Solon, when he was
asked whether he had given his citizens the best laws, answered wisely,
"Yea, of such as they would receive :" And Plato, rinding that his
own heart could not agree with the corrupt manners of his country,
refused to bear place or office ; saying, "That a man's country was to
be used as his parents were, that is, with humble persuasions, and not
with contestations." And Cdesar's counsellor put in the same caveat,
"Non ad vctera instituta revocans, quai jampridem conuptis moribus
ludibrio sunt :" and Cicero noted this error directly in Cato the second.,
v/hen he \\rites to his friend Atticus : " Cato optime sentit, sed nocet

I.] A D VANCE MENT OF LEARNING. 1 1 1

interdum reipublicac ; loquitur enim tanquam in republica Platonis,
non tanquam in ficce Romuli." And the same Cicero doth excuse and
expound the philosophers for going too far, and being too exact in their
prescripts, when he saith, " Isti ipsi praeceptores virtutis et magistri
videntur fines officiorum paulo longius, quam natura vellet, protulisse,
ut cum ad ultimum animo contendissemus, ibi tamen, ubi oportet con-
sistercmus :" and yet himself might have said, " Monitis sum minor
ipse meis;" for it was his own fault, though not in so extreme a
degree.

Another fault likewise much of this kind hath been incident to
learned men ; which is, that they have esteemed the preservation, good,
and honour of their countries or masters, before their own fortunes or
safeties. For so saith Demosthenes unto the Athenians : " If it please
you to note it, my counsels unto you are not such, whereby I should
grow great amongst you, and you become little amongst the Grecians :
but they be of that nature, as they are sometimes not good for me to
give, but are always good for you to follow." And so Seneca, after he
had consecrated that Quinquennium Neronis to the eternal glory of
learned governors, held on his honest and loyal course of good and
free counsel, after his master grew extremely cornipt in his govern
ment. Neither can this point otherwise be ; for learning enducth
men's minds with a true sense of the frailty of their persons, the casualty
of their fortunes, and the dignity of their soul and vocation : so that it
is impossible for them to esteem that any greatness of their own fortune
can be a true or worthy end of their being and ordainment ; and therefore
are desirous to give their account to God, and so likewise to their
masters under God (as kings and the states that they serve) in these
words ; " Ecce tibi lucrifeci," and not " Ecce mihi lucrifeci : " whereas
the corrupter sort of mere politicians, that have not their thoughts
established by learning in the love and apprehension of duty, nor ever
look abroad into universality, do refer all things to themselves, and
thrust themselves into the centre of the world, as if all lines should
meet in them and their fortunes ; never caring, in all tempests, what
becomes of the ship of state, so they may save themselves in the cock
boat of their own fortune ; whereas men that feel the weight of duty,
and know the limits of self-love, use to make good their places and
duties, though with peril. And if they stand in seditious and violent
alterations, it is rather the reverence which many times both adverse
parts do give to honesty, than any versatile advantage of their own
carriage. Hut for this point of tender sense, and fast obligation of duty,
which learning doth endue the mind withal, howsoever fortune may tax
it, and many in the depth of their corrupt principles may despise it,
yet it will receive an open allowance, and therefore needs the less dis
proof or excusation.

Another fault incident commonly to learned men, which may be
more probably defended than truly denied, is, that they fail sometimes
in applying themselves to particular persons : which want of exact
application ahseth from two causes ; the one, because the largeness of
their nund can hardly confine itself to dwell in the exquisite observation

112

AnrANCE>1fENT OF LEARNING. [Book

or examination of the nature and customs of one person : for it is a
speech for a lover, and not for a wise man : "Satis magnum alter alteri
thcatrum sumus." Nevertheless I shall yield, that he that cannot con
tract the sight of his mind, as well as disperse and dilate it, wanteth
great faculty. But there is a second cause, which is no inability, but
a rejection upon choice and judgment : for the honest and just bounds
of observation, by one person upon another, extend no farthci, but to
understand him sufficiently, whereby not to give him offence, or whereby
to be able to give him faithful counsel, or whereby to stand upon
reasonable guard and caution, in respect of a man's self. But to be
speculative into another man, to the end to know how to work him, or
wind him, or govern him, proceedeth from a heart that is double and
cloven, and not entire and ingenuous ; which, as in friendship, it is
want of integrity, so towards princes or superiors, is want of duty.
For the custom of the Levant, which is, that subjects do forbear to
gaze or fix their eyes upon princes, is in the outward ceremony barba
rous, but the moral is good : for men ought not, by cunning and bent
observations, to pierce and penetrate into the hearts of kings, which
the Scripture hath declared to be inscrutable.

There is yet another fault (with which I will conclude this part)
which is often noted in learned men, that they do many times fail to
observe decency and discretion in their behaviour and carriage, and
commit errors in small and ordinary points of actions, so as the vulgar
sort of capacities do make a judgment of them in greater matters, by
that which they find wanting in them in smaller. But this consequence
doth often deceive men, for which I do refer them over to that which
was said by Themistocles, arrogantly and uncivilly, being applied to
himself out of his own mouth ; but, being applied to the general state
of this question, pertinently and justly ; when being invited to touch a
lute, he said, "He could not fiddle, but he could make a small town a
great state." So, no doubt, many may be well seen in the passages of
government and policy, which are to seek in little and punctual
occasions. I refer them also to that which Plato said of his master
Socrates, whom he compared to the gallypots of apothecaries, which
on the outside had apes and owls, and antiques, but contained within
sovereign and precious liquors and confections ; acknowledging, that
to an external report, he was not without superficial levities and defor
mities, but was inwardly replenished with excellent virtues and
powers. And so much touching the point of manners of learned
men.

Hut in the mean time I have no purpose to give allowance to some
conditions and courses base and unworthy, wherein divers professors
of learning have wronged themselves, and gone too far ; such as were
those trencher philosophers, which in the latter age of the Roman state
were usually in the houses of great persons, being little better than
solemn parasites ; of which kind Lucian maketh a merry description
of the philosopher that the great lady took to ride with her in her
coach, and would needs have him carry her little dog, which he doing
officiously, and yet uncomely, the page scoffed, and said, " That he

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

doubted, the philosopher of a Stoic would turn to be a Cynic." But
abo\e all the rest, the gross and palpable flattery, whcrcunto many,
not unlearned, have abased and abused their wits anil pens, turning, a-j
Du I tart as saith, Hecuba into Helena, and Faustina into Lucretia, hath
most diminished the price and estimation of learning. Neither is the
modern dedications of books and writings, as to patrons, to be com
mended : for that books, such as are worthy the name of books, ought
to have no patrons but truth and reason. And the ancient custom was,
to dedicate them only to private and equal friends, or to intitle the
books with their names ; or if to kings and great persons, it was to
some such as the argument of the book was lit and proper for : but
these and the like courses may deserve rather reprehension than
defence.

Not that I can tax or condemn the morigcration orapplicat! >n of
learned men to men in fortune. For the answer was good that
Diogenes made to one that asked him in mockery, " How it came to
pass that philosophers were the followers of rich men, and not rich
men of philosophers?" He answered soberly, and yet sharply,
" Because the one sort knew what they hail need of, and the other did
not." And of the like nature was the answer which Aristippus made,
when having a petition to Dionysius, and no ear given to him, he fell
down at his feet ; whereupon Dionysius staid, and gave him the hearing,
and granted it ; and afterwards some person, tender on the behalf of
philosophy, reproved Aristippus, that he would offer the profession
of philosophy such an indignity, as for a private suit to fall at a tyrant's
feet. But he answered, " It was not his fault, but it was the fault of
Dionysius, that he had his ears in his feet." Neither was it accounted
weakness, but discretion in him that would not dispute his best with
Adrianus Caesar ; excusing himself, "That it was reason to yield to him
that commanded thirty legions." These and the like applications,
and stooping to points of necessity and convenience, cannot be dis
allowed : for though they may have some outward baseness, yet in a
judgment truly made, they arc to be accounted submissions to the
occasion, and not to the person.

Now I proceed to those errors and vanities, which have intervened
amongst the studies themselves of the learned, which is that which is
principal and proper to the present argument; wherein my purpose is
not to make justification of the errors, but, by a censure and separation
of the errors, to make a justification of that which is good and sound,
and to deliver that from the aspersion of the other. For we see, that
it is the manner of men to scandalize and deprave that which retaincth
the state and virtue, by taking advantage upon that which is corrupt
and degenerate ; as the heathens in the primitive Church used to
blemish and taint the Christians with the faults and corruptions of
heretics. But nevertheless I have no meaning at this time to make
any exact animadversion of the errors ;md impediments in matter:;
of learning, which are more secret and remote from vulgar opinion, but
only to speak unto such as do fall under, or near unto, a popular
observation.

8

, i4 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

/- There be therefore three vanities in studies, whereby learning hath
been most traduced. For those things we do esteem vain, which are
either false or frivolous, those which either have no truth, or no use :
and those persons we esteem vain, which are either credulous or
curious ; and curiosity is either in matter, or words : so that in reason,
as well as in experience, there fall out to be these three distempers,
as I may term them, of learning : the first, fantastical learning ; the
second, contentious learning : and the last delicate learning ; vain im
aginations, vain altercations, and vain affectations ; and with the last
I will begin.

Martin Luther, conducted no doubt by an higher providence, but in
discourse of reason, finding what a province he had undertaken against
the bishop of Rome, and the degenerate traditions of the church, and
finding his own solitude being no ways aided by the opinion of his own
time, was enforced to awake all antiquity, and to call former times to
his succour, to make a party against the present time. So that the
ancient authors, both in divinity, and in humanity, which had long
time slept in libraries, began generally to be read and revolved. This
by consequence did draw on a necessity of a more exquisite travel in
the languages original, wherein those authors did write, for the better un
derstanding of those authors, and the better advantage of pressing and
applying their words. And thereof grew again a delight in their
manner and style of phrase, and an admiration of that kind of writing ;
which was much furthered and precipitated by the enmity of opposi
tion, that the propounders of those primitive, but seeming new, opin
ions had against the schoolmen, who were generally of the contrary
part, and whose writings were altogether of a differing style and form ;
taking liberty to coin, and frame new forms of art to express their
own sense, and to avoid circuit of speech, without regard to the pure-
ness, pleasantness, and, as I may call it, lawfulness of the phrase or
word. And again, because the great labour then was with the people,
of whom the Pharisees were wont to say, " Execrabilis ista turba, qiue
non novit legcm ;" for the winning and persuading of them, there grew
of necessity in chief price and request, eloquence and variety of dis
course, as the fittest and forciblcst access into the capacity of the vulgar
sort : so that these four causes concurring, the admiration of ancient
authors, the hate of the schoolmen, the exact study of languages, and
the efficacy of preaching, did bring in an affectionate study of elo
quence, and copia of speech, which then began to flourish. This grew
speedily into an excess : for men began to hunt more after words than
matter ; and more after the choiccness of the phrase, and the round
and clean composition of the sentence, and the sweet falling of the
clauses, and the varying and illustration of their works with tropes and
figures, than after the weight of matter, worth of subject, sound
ness of argument, life of invention, or depth of judgment. Then grew
the flowing and watery vein of Osorius, the Portugal bishop, to be in
price. Then did Sturmius spend such infinite and curious pains upon
Cicero the orator, and Hermogenes the rhetorican, besides his own
books of the periods, and imitation, and the like. Then did Car of

I.J AD VANCEMENT OF LEA K AVA't?. 1 1 5

Cambridge, and Ascham, with their lectures and writings, almost deify
Cicero and Demosthenes, and allure all young men, that were studious,
unto that delicate and polished kind of learning. Then did Erasmus
take occasion to make the scoffing echo: "Deccm annos consompsi in
legendo Cicerone : M and the echo answered in Greek "Ovf, Asine.
Then grew the learning of the schoolmen to be utterly despised as
barbarous. In sum, the whole inclination and bent of those times was
rather towards copia, than weight.

Here therefore is the first distemper of learning, when men study
words and not matter: whereof though I have represented an example
of late times, yet it hath been, and will be stcundum majus ct minus
in all time. And how is it possible but this should have an operation
to discredit learning, even with vulgar capacities, when they see learned
men's works like the first letter of a patent, or limned book ; which
though it hath large flourishes, yet it is but a letter? It seems to me
that Pygmalion's frenzy is a good emblem or portraiture of this vanity ;
for words are but the images of matter, and except they have life of
reason and invention, to fall in love with them is all one as to fall in
love with a picture.

But yet, notwithstanding, it is a thing not hastily to be condemned,
to clothe and adorn the obscurity, even of philosophy itself, with
sensible and plausible elocution. For hereof we have great examples
in Xenophon, Cicero, Seneca, Plutarch, and of Plato also in some de
gree ; and hereof likewise there is great use ; for surely, to the severe
inquisition of truth, and the deep progress into philosophy, it is some
hindrance; because it is too early satisfactory to the mind of man,
and quencheth the desire of farther search, before we come to n just
period; but then, if a man be to have any use of such knowledge in
civil occasions, of conference, counsel, persuasion, discourscor the like ;
then shall he find it prepared to his hands in those authors which
write in thnt manner. Hut the excess of this is so justly contemptible,
that as Hercules, when he saw the image of Adonis, Venus's minion, in
a temple, said in disdain, " Nil sacri es ; " so there is none of Hcr-
cules's followers in learning, that is, the more severe and laborious sort
of inquirers into truth, but will despise those delicacies and affecta
tions, as indeed capable of no divineness. And thus much of the first
disease or distemper of learning.

The second, which followeth, is in nature worse than the former : for
as substance of matter is better than beauty of words, so, contrariwise,
vain matter is worse than vain words; wherein it seemcththe reprehen
sion of St. Paul was not only proper for those times, but prophetical
for the times following ; and not only respective to divinity, but exten
sive to all knowledge : " Devita profanas vocum novitates, ct opposi-
tioncs falsi nominis sciential." For he assigncth two marks and badges
of suspected and falsified science : the one, the novelty and strangeness
of terms ; the other, the strictness of positions, which of necessity doth
induce oppositions, and so questions and altercations. Surely, like as
many substances in nature which are solid, do putrify and corrupt into
worms ; so it is the propriety of good and sound knowledge, to putrify

i l6 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Hook

and dissolve into a number of subtle, idle, unwholesome, and, as I may
term them, vcrmiculate questions, which have indeed a kind of quick
ness, and life of spirit, but no soundness of matter, or goodness of
quality. This kind of degenerate learning did chiefly reign amongst
the schoolmen, who, having sharp and strong wits, and abundance of
leisure, and small variety of reading ; but their wits being shut up in
the cells of a few authors, chiefly Aristotle their dictator, as their per
sons were shut up in the cells of monasteries and colleges, and know
ing little history, either of nature or time, did, out of no great quantity
of matter, and infinite agitation of wit, spin out unto us those laborious
webs of learning, which are extant in their books. For the wit and
mind of man, if it work upon matter, which is the contemplation of
the creatures of God, worketh according to the stuff, and is limited
thereby : but if it work upon itself, as the spider worketh his web, then
it is endless, and brings forth indeed cobwebs of learning, admirable
for the fineness of thread and work, but of no substance or profit.

This same unprofitable subtility or curiosity is of two sorts ; either
in the subject itself that they handle, when it isfruitless speculation or con
troversy, whereof there are no small number both of divinity and philo
sophy ; or in the manner or method of handling of a knowledge, which
amongst them was this ; upon every particular position or assertion to
frame objections, and to those objections, solutions ; which solutions
were for the most part not confutations, but distinctions : whereas
indeed the strength of all sciences is, as the strength of the old man's
faggot, in the band. For the harmony of a science, supporting each
part the other, is and ought to be the true and brief confutation and
suppression of all the smaller sorts of objections. But, on the other
side, if you take out every axiom, as the sticks of the faggot, one by
one, you may quarrel with them and bend them, and break them at
your pleasure : so that as was said of Seneca, " Verborum minutiis
re rum frangit pondcra : " so a man may truly say of the schoolmen,
" Quaestionum minutiis scientiarum frangunt solid! tatcm." For were
it not better for a man in a fair room, to set up one great light, or
branching candlestick of lights, than to go about with a small watch
candle into every corner ? And such is their method, that rests not
so much upon evidence of truth proved by arguments, authorities,
similitudes, examples, as upon particular confutations and solutions of
every scruple, cavillation, and objection ; breeding for the most part
one question, as fast as it solvcth another ; even as in the former resem
blance, when you carry the light into one corner, you darken the rest :
so that the fable and fiction of Scylla seemcth to be a lively image of
this kind of philosophy or knowledge, which was transformed into a
comely virgin for the upper parts ; but then, " Candida succinctam
latrantibus inguina monstris :" so the generalities of the schoolmen
are for a while good and proportionable ; but then, when you descend
into their distinctions and decisions, instead of a fruitful womb, for the
use and benefit of man's life, they end in monstrous altercations, and
barking questions. So as it is not possible but this quality of know
ledge must fall under popular contempt, the people being apt to con-

I.I ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 117

femn truth upon occasion of controversies and altercations, and to think
they are all out of their way which never meet : and when they sec
such digiadiation about subtiltics, and matters of no use or moment,
they easily fall upon that judgment of Dionysius of Syracusx," Verba
ista sunt senum otiosorum."

Notwithstanding, certain it is, that if those schoolmen, to their
great thirst of truth, and unwearied travel of wit, had joined variety
and universality of reading and contemplation, they had proved
excellent lights, to the great advancement of all learning and
knowledge ; but as they are, they arc great undertakers indeed, and
hcrce with dark keeping. But as in the inquiry of the divine truth,
their pride inclined to leave the oracle of God's word, and to vanish in
the mixture of their own inventions ; so in the inquisition of nature,
they ever left the oracle of God's works, and adored the deceiving and
deformed images, which the unequal mirror of their own minds, or a
few received authors or principles, did represent unto them. And thus
much for the second disease of learning.

For the third vice or disease of learning, which A,tmcerneth •deceit
or untruth, it is of all the rest the foulest ; as that which doth destroy
the essential form of knowledge ; which is nothing but a representation
of truth ; for the truth of being, and the truth of knowing are one,
differing no more than the direct beam, and the beam reflected. This
vice therefore brancheth itself into two sorts ; delight in deceiving, and
aptness to be deceived; imposture and credulity ; which, although they
appear to be of a diverse nature, the one seeming to proceed of
cunning, and the other of simplicity ; yet certainly they ck) for the
most part concur: for as the verse noteth,

" Percontatorem fugito, nam gurrulus idem est:'

an inquisitive man is a prattler : so upon the like reason, a credulous
man is a deceiver; as we see it in fame, that he that will easily believe
rumours, will as easily augment rumours, and add somewhat to them
of his own; which Tacitus wisely noteth, when he saith, " Fingunt
simul creduntque :" so great an affinity hath fiction and belief.

This facility of credit, and accepting or admitting things weakly
authorized or warranted, is of two kinds, according to the subject : lor
it is either a belief of history, or, as the lawyers speak, matter of fact ;
or else of matter of art and opinion : as to the former, we see the
experience and inconvenience of this error in ecclesiastical history,
which hath too easily received and registered reports and narrations of
miracles wrought by martyrs, hermits, or monks of the desert, and
other holy men, and their relicks, shrines, chapels, and images ; which
though they had a passage for a time, by the ignorance of the people,
the superstitious simplicity of some, and the politic toleration of others,
holding them but as divine poesies : yet after a period of time, when
the mist began to clear up, they grew to be esteemed but as old wives
fables, impostures of the clergy, illusions of spirits, and badges ot
antichrist, to the great scandal and detriment of religion.

So in natural history, we see there hath not been that choice and

1 1 8 ADVA N CEMENT OF LEA RNJNG. [Book

judgment used as ought to have been, as may appear in the writings
of Plinius, Cardanus, Albertus, and divers of the Arabians, being
fraught with much fabulous matter, a great part not only untried, but
notoriously untrue, to the great derogation of the credit of natural
philosophy with the grave and sober kinds of wits : wherein the wisdom
and integrity of Aristotle is worthy to be observed, that, having made
so diligent and exquisite a history of living creatures, hath mingled it
sparingly with any vain or feigned matter ; and yet, on the other side,
hath cast all prodigious narrations, which he thought worthy the
recording, into one book : excellently discerning that matter of
manifest truth, such whereupon observation and rule was to be built,
•was not to be mingled or weakened with matter of doubtful credit ; and
yet again, that rarities and reports, that seem incredible, are not to be
suppressed or denied to the memory of men.

And as for the facility of credit which is yielded to arts and
opinions, it is likewise of two kinds, either when too much belief is
attributed to the arts themselves, or to certain authors in any art. The
sciences themselves, which have had better intelligence and con
federacy with the imagination of man, than with his reason, are three
in number : astrology, natural magic, and alchemy ; of which sciences,
nevertheless, the ends or pretences are noble. For astrology pre-
tendeth to discover that correspondence, or concatenation, which is
between the superior globe and the inferior. Natural magic pre-
tendeth to call and reduce natural philosophy from variety of
speculations to the magnitude of works ; and alchemy pretemleth to
make separation of all the unlike parts of bodies, which in mixtures of
nature are incorporate. But the derivations and prosecutions to these
ends, both in the theories and in the practices, are full of error and
vanity; which the great professors themselves have sought to veil over
and conceal by enigmatical writings, and referring themselves to
auricular traditions and such other devices, to save the credit of
impostors : and yet surely to alchemy this right is due, that it maybe
compared to the husbandman whereof yEsop makes the fable ; that,
when he died, told his sons, that he had left unto them gold buried
underground in his vineyard; and they digged over all the ground,
and gold they found none; but by reason ot their stirring and digging
the mould about the roots of their vines, they had a great vintage the
year following : so assuredly the search and stir to make gold hath
brought to light a great number of good and fruitful inventions and
experiments as well for the disclosing of nature, as for the use
of man's h c

And as for the overmuch credit that hath been given unto authors
in sciences, in making them dictators, that their words should stand ;
and not consuls to give advice ; the damage is infinite that sciences
have received thereby, as the principal cause that hath kept them low,
at a stay without growth or advancement. For hence it hath come,
that in arts mechanical, the first deviser comes shortest, and time
addeth and perfectcth : but in sciences, the first author goeth farthest,
and time loseth and corrupteth. So we see, artillery, sailing, printing,

I.J ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 1 19

and the like, were grossly managed at the first, and by time accom
modated and refined : but contrariwise the philosophies and sciences
of Aristotle, Plato, Democritus, Hippocrates, Kuclidcs, Archimedes, of
most vigour at the first, and by time degenerate and cmbascd ;
whereof the reason is no other, but that in the former many wits and
industries have contributed in one ; and in the latter, many wits and
industries have been spent about the wit of some one, whom many
limes they have rather depraved than illustrated. For as water will
not ascend higher than the level of the first spring-head from whence.
it desccndethjso knowledge derived from Aristotle, and exempted from
liberty of examination, will not rise again higher than the knowledge
of Aristotle. And therefore, although the position be good, " Oportct
discentem credere ; " yet it must be coupled with this, " Oportct
eductum judicarc : " for disciples do owe unto masters only a tempo
rary belief, and a suspension of their own judgment till they be fully
instructed, and not an absolute resignation, or perpetual captivity :
and, therefore, to conclude this point, I will say no more ; but so let
great authors have their due, as time, which is the author of authors,
be not deprived of his due, which is, farther and farther to discover
truth. Thus I have gone over these three diseases of learning ;
besides the which, there are some other rather peccant humours than
formed diseases, which nevertheless are not so secret and intrinsic,
but that they fall under a popular observation and Inducement, and
therefore arc not to be passed over.

The first of these is the extreme affecting of two extremities : the
one antiquity, the other novelty ; wherein it scemeth the children of
time do take after the nature and malice of the father. For as he
devourcth his children, so one of them scckcth to devour and suppress
the other, while antiquity envieth there should be new additions, and
novelty cannot be content to add, but it must deface ; surely, the
advice of the prophet is the true direction in this matter, " State super
vias antiqnas, ct vidcte quajnam sit via recta et bona, et ambulate in
ea." Antiquity dcserveth that reverence, that men should make a
stand thereupon, and discover what is the best way ; but when the
discovery is well taken, then to make progression. And to speak
truly, "Antiquitas scculi, juventus muncli." These times arc the
ancient times, when the world is ancient, and not those which we
account ancient ordinc rctrogrado, by a computation backward
from ourselves.

Another error, induced by the former, is a distrust that anything
should be now to be found out, which the world should have missed
and passed over so long time ; as if the same objection were to be
made to time, that Lucian makcth to Jupiter and other the heathen
gods, of which he wondercth, that they begot so many children
in old time, and begot none in his time ; and askcth, whether
they were become septuagenary, or whether the law Papia, made
against old men's marriages, had restrained them. So it scemeth men
doubt, lest time is become past children and generation ; wherein,
contrariwise, we see commonly the levity and uncoiibtancy of men's

120 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

judgments, which, till a matter be done, wonder that ft can be done ;
and, as soon as it is done, wonder again that it was no sooner clone ;
as we see in the expedition of Alexander into Asia, which at first was
prejudged as a vast and impossible enterprise : and yet afterwards it
pleaseth Livy to make no more of it than this ; " Nil aliud, quam bene
ausus est vana contemnere : " and the same happened to Columbus in
the western navigation. But in intellectual matters, it is much more
common ; as may be seen in most of the propositions of Euclid, which
till they be demonstrated, they seem strange to our assent ; but being
demonstrated, our mind accepteth of them by a kind of relation, as the
lawyers speak, as if we had known them before.

Another error that hath also some affinity with the former, is a
conceit, that of former opinions or sects, after variety and examination,
the best hath still prevailed, and suppressed the rest : so as, if a man
should begin the labour of a new search, he were but like to light upon
somewhat formerly rejected, and by rejection brought into oblivion ; as
if the multitude, or the wisest, for the multitude's sake, were not ready
to give passage, rather to that which is popular and superficial, than to
that which is substantial and profound : for the truth is, that time
seemeth to be of the nature of a river or stream, which carricth down
to us that which is light and blown up, and sinketh and drowncth that
which is weighty and solid.

Another error, of a diverse nature from all the former, is the over
early and peremptory reduction of knowledge into arts and methods ;
from which time, commonly, sciences receive small or no augmentation.
But as young men, when they knit, and shape perfectly, do seldom
Orrow to a farther stature : so knowledge, while it is in aphorisms and
observations, it is in growth ; but when it once is comprehended in
exact methods, it may perchance be farther polished and illustrated,
and accommodated for use and practice ; but it increaseth no more
in bulk and substance.

Another error which doth succeed that which we last mentioned,
is, that after the distribution of particular arts and sciences, men have
abandoned universality, or philosophia priina; which cannot but
cease, and stop all progression. For no perfect discovery can be made
upon a flat or a level : neither is it possible to discover the more
remote, and deeper parts of any science, if you stand but upon the
level of the same science, and ascend not to a higher science.

Another error hath proceeded from too great a reverence, and a
kind of adoration of the mind and understanding of man : by means
whereof, men have withdrawn themselves too much from the contem
plation of nature, and the obseivations of experience, and have
tumbled up and down in their own reason and conceits. Upon these
intellectualists, which are, notwithstanding, commonly taken for the
most sublime and divine philosophers, Heraclitus gave a just censure,
Baying, " Men sought truth in their own little worlds, and not in the
great and common world ;" for they disdain to spell, and so by degrees
to read in the volume of God's works ; and contrariwise, by continual

Walton and agitation of wit, do urge and as it were invocate their

i .1 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. \ 2 1

own spirits to divine, and give oracles unto them, whereby they are
deservedly deluded.

Another error that hath some connexion with this latter, is, that
men have used to infect their meditations, opinions, and doctrines,
with some conceits which they have most admired, or some sciences
which they have most applied ; and given all things else a tincture
according to them, utterly untrue and unproper. So hath Plato
intermingled his philosophy with theology, and Aristotle with logic;
and the second school of Plato, Proclus, and the rest, with the
mathematics. For these were the arts which had a kind of primo
geniture with them severally. So have the alchemists made a
philosophy out of a few experiments of the furnace ; and Gilbcrtus,
our countryman, hath made a philosophy out of the observations of
a loadstone. So Cicero, when reciting the several opinions of the
nature of the soul, he found a musician, that held the soul was but
a harmony, saith pleasantly, " Hie ab arte sua non rcccssit," etc.
Uut of these conceits Aristotle spcakcth seriously and wisely, when
he saith, " Qui respiciunt ad pauca, dc facili pronuntiant."

Another error is an impatience of doubt, and haste to assertion
without due and mature suspension of judgment. For the two ways
of contemplation are not unlike the two ways of action, commonly
spoken of by the ancients: the one plain and smooth in the begin
ning, and in the end impassable ; the other rough and trouble
some in the entrance, but after a while fair and even : so it is in
contemplation ; if a man will begin with certainties, he shall end in
doubts; but if he will be content to begin with doubts, he shall end in
certainties.

Another error is in the manner of the tradition and delivery of
knowledge, which is for the most part magistral and peremptory ; and
not ingenuous and faithful, in a sort, as may be soonest believed, and
most casiliest examined. It is true, that in compendious treatises for
practice, that form is not to be disallowed. But in the true handling
of knowledge, men ought not to fall either, on the one side, into the
vein of Velleius the Epicurean : "Nil tam mctucns, quam ne dubitnre
aliqua de re vidcretur:" nor, on the other side, into Socrates his
ironical doubting of all things ; but to propound things sincerely,
with more or less asseveration, as they stand in a man's own judgment
proved more or less.

Other errors there are in the scope that men propound to them
selves, whcreunto they bend their endeavours : for whereas the more
constant and devote kind of professors of any science ought to pro
pound to themselves to make some additions to their science ; they
convert their labours to aspire to certain second prizes ; as to be a
profound interpreter or commentator ; to be a sharp champion or
defender ; to be a methodical compoundcr or abridgcr ; and so
the patrimony of knowledge comcth to be sometimes improved, but
seldom augmented.

Hut the greatest error of all the rest, is the mistaking or misplacing
of the last or farthest end of knowledge : for men have entered into

122 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Hook

a desire of learning and knowledge, sometimes upon a natural
curiosity, and inquisitive appetite ; sometimes to entertain their minds
with variety and delight; sometimes for ornament and reputation;
and sometimes to enable them to victory of wit and contradiction ;
and most times for lucre and profession ; and seldom sincerely to give
a true account of their gift of reason, to the benefit and use of men :
as if there were sought in knowledge a couch, whereupon to rest a
searching and restless spirit ; or a terras, for a wandering and variable
mind to walk up and down with a fair prospect ; or a tower of stato,
for a proud mind to raise itself upon ; or a fort or commanding ground,
for strife and contention ; or a shop, for profit, or sale ; and not a
rich storehouse, for the glory of the Creator, and the relief of man's
estate. But this is that which will indeed dignify and exalt know
ledge, if contemplation and action may be more nearly and st.raitly
conjoined and united together than they have been ; a conjunction
like unto that of the two highest planets, Saturn, the planet of rest
and contemplation, and Jupiter, the planet of civil society and action.
Howbcit, I do not mean, when I speak of use and action, that end
before-mentioned of the applying of knowledge to lucre and profes
sion ; for I am not ignorant how much that divertcth and interruptcth
the prosecution and advancement of knowledge, like unto the golden
ball thrown before Atalanta, which while she gocth aside and stoopeth
to take up, the race is hindered ;

Declinat cursus, aurumque volubilc tollit.

Neither is my meaning, as was spoken of Socrates, to call
philosophy down from heaven to converse upon the earth : that is,
to leave natural philosophy aside, and to apply knowledge only to
manners and policy. But as both heaven and earth do conspire and
contribute to the use and benefit of man ; so the end ought to be,
from both philosophies to separate and reject vain speculations, and
whatsoever is empty and void, and to preserve and augment what
soever is solid and fruitful: that knowledge may not be, as a courtesan,
for pleasure and vanity only, or, as a bond-woman, to acquire and
gain to her master's use ; but, as a spouse, for generation, fruit, and
comfort.

Thus have I described and opened, as by a kind of dissection,
those peccant humours, the principal of them, which have not only
given impediment to the proficicnce of learning, but have given also
occasion to the traducemc-rt thereof: wherein if 1 have been too plain,
it must IKJ remembered, " Fidelia vulnera amantis, sed dolosa oscula
malignantis."

This, I think, I have gained, that I ought to be the better believed
in that which I shall say pertaining to commendation ; because I have
proceeded so freely in that which concerneth censure. And yet I
have no purpose to enter into a laudative of learning, or to make a
hymn to the Muses, though I am of opinion that it is long since their
rites were duly celebrated « but my intent is, without varnish or ampli
fication, justly to weigh the dignity of knowledge in the balance with

I.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARXIKG. 123

other things, and to take the true value thereof by testimonies and
arguments divine and human.

First therefore, let us seek the dignity of knowledge in the arche
type or first platform, which is the attributes and acts of God, as far
as they are revealed to man, and may be observed with sobriety ;
wherein we may not seek it by the name of learning ; for all learning
is knowledge acquired, and all knowledge in God is original ; and
therefore we must look for it by another name, that of wisdom or
sapience, as the Scriptures call it.

It is so then, that in the work of the creation we sec a double
emanation of virtue from God ; the one referring more proj>crly to
power, the other to wisdom ; the one expressed in making the subsis
tence of the matter, and the other in disposing the beauty of the form.
This being supposed, it is to be observed, that, for anything which
appearcth in the history of the Creation, the confused mass and matter
of heaven and earth was made in a moment ; and the order and dis
position of that chaos, or mass, was the work of six days ; such a
note of difference it pleased God to put upon the works of power, and
the works of wisdom : wherewith concurrcth, that in the former it is
not set down that God said, " Let there be heaven and earth," as it is
set down of the works following ; but actually, that God made heaven
and earth : the one carrying the stile of a manufacture, and the other
of a law, decree, or council.

To proceed to that which is next in order, from God to spirits. We
find, as far as credit is to be given to the celestial hierarchy of that
supposed Dionysius the senator of Athens, the first place or degree is
given to the angels of love, which are termed Seraphim ; the second
to the angels of light, which arc termed Cherubim ; and third, and so
following places, to thrones, principalities, and the rest, which are all
angels of power and ministry ; so as the angels of knowledge and
illumination are placed before the angels of office and domination.

To descend from spirits and intellectual forms to sensible and ma
terial forms ; we read the first form that was created was light, which
hath a relation and correspondence in nature and corporal things to
knowledge in spirits and incorporal things.

So in the distribution of days, we see, the day wherein God did rest,
and contemplate his own works, was blessed above all the days where
in he did effect and accomplish them.

After the creation was finished, it is set down unto us, that man was
placed in the garden to work therein ; which work, so appointed to him,
could be no other than work of contemplation ; that is, when the end
of the work is but for exercise and experiment, not for necessity ; for
there being then no rclucfation of the creature, nor sweat of the brow,
man'scmploymcnt must of consequcncehave been matter of delight in the
experiment, and not matter of labour for the use. Again, the first acts
which man performed in paradise, consisted of the two summary parts
of knowledge; the view of creatures, and the imposition of names.
As for the knowledge which induced the fall, it was, as was touched
before, not the natural knowledge of creatures, but the moral know-

124 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

ledge of good and evil ; wherein the supposition was, that God's com
mandments or pronibitions were not the originals of good and evil, but
that they had other beginnings, which man aspired to know, to the
end to make a total defection from God, and to depend wholly upon
himself.

To pass on : in the first event or occurrence after the fall of man,
we see, as the Scriptures have infinite mysteries, not violating at all
the truth of the story or letter, an image of the two estates, the con
templative state, and the active state, figured in the two persons of
Abel and Cain, and in the two simplest and most primitive trades of
life, that of the shepherd, who, by reason of his leisure, rest in a place,
and living in view of heaven, is a lively image of a contemplative life ;
and that of the husbandman ; where we see again the favour and elec
tion of God went to the shepherd, and not to the tiller of the ground.

So in the age before the flood, the holy records within those few
memorials, which are there entered and registered, have vouchsafed to
mention, and honour the name of the inventors and authors of music,
and works in metal. In the age after the flood, the first great judg
ment of God upon the ambition of man was the confusion of tongues ;
whereby the open trade and intercourse of learning and knowledge was
chiefly imbarred.

To descend to Moses thelawgiver, and God's first pen : he is adorned
by the Scriptures with this addition and commendation, that he was
"seen in all the learning of the /Egyptians ;" which nation, we know,
was one of the most ancient schools of the world : for so Plato brings
in the vKgyptian priest saying unto Solon, "You Grecians are ever
children; you have no knowledge of antiquity, nor antiquity of know
ledge." Take a view of the ceremonial law of Moses ; you shall find,
besides the prefiguration of Christ, the badge or difference of the
people of God, the exercise and impression of obedience, and other
divine uses and fruits thereof, that some of the most learned Rabbins
have travelled profitably, and profoundly to observe, some of them a
natural, someof them a m oral sense, or reduction of many of the
ceremonies and ordinances. As in the law of the leprosy, where it is
said, " If the whiteness have overspread the flesh, the patient may pass
abroad for clean ; but if there be any whole flesh remaining, he is to
be shut up for unclean :" one of them noteth a principle of nature, that
putrefaction is more contagious before maturity, than after : and another
noteth a position of moral philosophy, that men. abandoned to vice,
do not so much corrupt manners, as those that are half good and half
evil. So in this, and very many other places in that law, there is to
be found, besides the theological sense, much aspersion of philosophy.

So likewise in that excellent book of Job, if it be revolved with dili
gence, it will be found pregnant and swelling with natural philosophy ;
as for example, cosmography and the roundness of the \vorld : " Qui
extendit aquilonem super vacuum, etappendit terram super nihilum ; "
\yherein the pcnsileness of the earth, the pole of the north, and the
finiieness or convexity of heaven are manifestly touched. So again,
mattct of astronomy : "Spiritus ejus ornavit ccelus, et obstetrican e

I.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 125

mnnu cjus eductus est Coluber tortuoeus." And in another place ;
'•NiT.quid conjungere valebis micantea Stellas Pleiadas, aut gyrum
Arcturi poteris dissipate ?" Where the fixing of the stars, ever stand
ing at equal distance, is with great elegancy noted. And in another
place ;" Qui facit Arcturum, et Oriona, ct Hyadas, et interiora Aus-
tri ;" where again he takes knowledge of the depression of the south
ern polc, calling it the secrets of the south, because the southern stars
were in that climate unseen. Matter of generation, " Annon sicut lac
mulsisti me, ct sicut caseum coagulasti me," etc. Matter of minerals,
" Habct argentum venarum suarum principia : et auro locus est in quo
conthture, fcrrum de terra tollitur, et lapis solutus calore in tes verti-
tur : " and so forwards in that chapter.

So likewise in the person of Solomon the king, we see the gift or
endowment of wisdom and learning, both in Solomon's petition, and in
God's assent thereunto, preferred before all other terrene and temporal
felicity. By virtue of which grant or donative of God, Solomon be
came enabled, not only to write those excellent parables, or aphorisms,
concerning divine and moral philosophy ; but also to compile a natural
history of all verdure, from the cedar upon the mountain to the moss
upon the wall, which is but a rudiment between putrefaction and an
heib, and also of all things that breathe or move. Nay, the same
Solomon the king, although he excelled in the glory of treasure and
magnificent buildings, of shipping and navigation, of service and
attendance, of fame and renown, and the like, yet he maketh no claim
lo any of those glories, but only to the glory of inquisition of truth ; for
so he saith expressly, 4< The glory of God is to conceal a thing, but the
glory of the king is to find it out ; " as if, according to the innocent
play of children, the Divine Majesty took delight to hide his works, to
the end to have them found out; and as if kings could not obtain a
greater honour than to be God's playfellows in that game, considering
the great commandment of wits and means, whereby nothing nccdeth
to be hidden from them.

Neither did the dispensation of God vary in the times after our
Saviour came into the world ; for our Saviour himself did first show
his power to subdue ignorance, by his conference with the priests and
doctors of the law, before he showed his power to subdue nature by his
miracles. And the coming of the Holy Spirit was chiefly figured and
expressed in the similitude and gift of tongues, which arc but vchi-
citla s den I ice.

So in the election of those instruments, which it pleased God to use
for the plantation of the faith, notwithstanding that at the first he did
employ persons altogether unlearned, otherwise than by inspiration,
more evidently to declare his immediate working, and to abase all hu
man wisdom or knowledge ; yet, nevertheless, that counsel of his was no
sooner performed, but in the next vicissitude and succession, he did
send his divine truth into the world, waited on with other learnings, as
with servants or handmaids : for so we see St. Paul, who was only
learned among the apostles, had his pen most used in the Scriptures
of the New Testament.

1 20 AD VANCEKIENT OF LEARNING. [Book

So again, we find that many of the ancient bishops and fathers of
the Church were excellently read and studied in all the learning of the
heathen; insomuch, that the edict of the emperor Julianus, whereby
it was interdicted unto Christians to be admitted into schools, lectures,
or exercises of learning, was esteemed and accounted a more pernicious
engine and machination against the Christian faith, than were all the
sanguinary prosecutions of his predecessors ; neither could the emu
lation and jealousy of Gregory, the first of that name, bishop of Rome,
ever obtain the opinion of piety or devotion ; but contrariwise received
the censure of humour, malignity, and pusillanimity, even amongst
holy men ; in that he designed to obliterate and extinguish the memory
of heathen antiquity and authors. But contrariwise it was the Christian
Church, which, amidst the inundations of the Scythians on the one side
from the north-west, and the Saracens from the east, did preserve, in
the sacred lap and bosom thereof, the precious relicks even of heathen
learning, which otherwise had been extinguished, as if no such thing
had ever been.

And we sec before our eyes, that in the age of ourselves and our
fathers, when it pleased God to call the church of Rome to account
for their degenerate manners and ceremonies, and sundry doctrines
obnoxious, and framed to uphold the same abuses : at one and the
same time it was ordained by the divine providence, that there should
attend withal a renovation, and new spring of all other knowledges :
and, on the other side, we see the Jesuits, who partly in themselves,
and partly by the emulation and provocation of their example, have
much quickened and strengthened the state of learning; we see, I say,
what notable service and reparation they have done to the Roman see.
Wherefore, to conclude this part, let it be observed, that there be
two principal duties and services, besides ornament and illustration,
which philosophy and human learning do perform to faith and religion.
The one, because they arc an effectual inducement to the exaltation of
the glory of God. For as the Psalms and other Scriptures do often
invite us to consider, and magnify the great and wonderful works of
God : so if we should rest only in the contemplation of the exterior of
them, as they first offer themselves to our senses, we should do a like
injury unto the majesty of God, as if we should judge or construe of
the store of some excellent jeweller, by that only which ;s set out
towards the street in his shop. The other, because they minister a
singular help and preservative against unbelief and error ; for our
Saviour saith, " You err, not knowing the Scriptures, nor the power of
God ;" laying before us two books or volumes to study, if we will be
secured from error ; first, the Scriptures, revealing the will of God ;
and then the creatures, expressing his power : whereof the latter is a
key unto the former : not only opening our understanding to conceive
the true sense of the Scriptures, by the general notions of reason and
rules of speech ; but chiefly opening our belief, in drawing us into a
due meditation of the omnipotency of God, which is chiefly signed and
engraven upon his works. Thus much therefore for divine testimony
and evidence, concerning the true dignity and value of learning.

M ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 127

As for human proofs, it is so large a field, as, in a discourse of this
nature and brevity, it is tit rather to use choice of those things which
we shall produce, than to embrace the variety of them. First, there
fore, in the degrees of human honour amongst the heathen, it was the
highest, to obtain to a veneration and adoration as a God. This unto
the Christians is as the forbidden fruit. But we speak now separately
of human testimony ; according to which, that which the Grecians call
" apotheosis," and the Latins, u relatio inter divos," was the supreme
honour which man could attribute unto man ; especially when it was
given, not by a formal decree or act of state, as it was used among the
Roman Emperors, but by an inward assent and belief. Which honour
being so high had also a degree or middle term ; for there were
reckoned above human honours, honours hcroical and divine : in the
attribution and distribution of which honours, we sec antiquity made
this difference : that whereas founders and uniters of states and cities,
lawgivers, cxtirpcrs of tyrants, fathers of the people, and other eminent
persons in civil merit, were honoured but with the titles of worthies or
demigods, such as were Hercules, Theseus, Minos, Romulus, and the
like : on the other side, such as were inventors and authors of new arts,
endowments and commodities towards man's life, were ever con
secrated amongst the gods themselves : as were Ceres, Bacchus, Mcr-
curius, Apollo, and others ; and justly : for the merit of the former is
confined within the circle of an age or a nation ; and is like fruitful
showers, which though they be profitable and good, yet serve but for
that season, and for a latitude of ground where they fall ; but the other
is indeed like the benefits of heaven, which are permanent and universal.
The former, again, is mixed with strife and perturbation ; but the latter
hath the true character of divine presence, coming in aura font, with
out noise or agitation.

Neither is certainly that other merit of learning, in repressing the
Ehconveniencies which grow from man to man, much inferior to the
former, of relieving the necessities which arise from nature ; which
merit was lively set forth by the ancients in that feigned relation of
Orpheus's theatre, where all beasts anil birds assembled, and forgetting
their several appetites, some of prey, some of game, some of quarrel,
stood all sociably together, listening to the airs and accords of the
harp; the sound whereof no sooner ceased, or was drowned by some
louder noise, but every beast returned to his own nature : wherein is
aptly described the nature and condition of men, who are full of savage
and unreclaimed desires of profit, of lust, of revenge ; which as long
as they give ear to precepts, to laws, to religion, sweetly touched with
eloquence and persuasion of books, of sermons, of harangues, so long is
society and peace maintained ; but if these instruments be silent, or
that sedition and tumult make them not audible, all things dissolve
into anarchy and confusion.

But this appcareth more manifestly, when kings themselves, or
persons of authority under them, or other governors in commonwealths
and popular estates, are endued with learning. For although he might
be thought partial to his own profession, that said, "Then should

128 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARX1XG. [Book

people and estates be happy, when either kings were philosophers, or
philosophers kings ;" yet so much is verified by experience, that under
wise and learned princes and governors there have been ever the best
times : for howsoever kings may have their imperfections in their
passions and customs ; yet if they be illuminate by learning, they have
those notions of religion, policy, and morality, which do preserve them;
and refrain them from all ruinous and peremptory errors and excesses,
whispering evermore in their ears, when counsellors and servants stand
mute and silent. And senators, or counsellors likewise, which be
learned, do proceed upon more safe and substantial principles, than
counsellors which are only men of experience ; the one sort keeping
dangers afar off, whereas the other them discover not till they come near
hand, and then trust to the agility of their wit to ward or avoid them.

Which felicity of times under learned princes, to keep still the law
of brevity, by using the most eminent and selected examples, doth best
appear in the age which passed from the death of Domitianus the
emperor, until the reign of Commodus ; comprehending a succession
of six princes, all learned, or singular favourers and advancers of
learning ; which age, for temporal respects, was the most happy and
flourishing that ever the Roman empire, which then was a model of
the world, enjoyed ; a matter revealed and prefigured unto Domitian
in a dream the night before he was slain ; for he thought there was
grown behind upon his shoulders a neck and a head of gold ; which
came accordingly to pass in those golden times which succeeded ; of
which princes we will make some commemoration : wherein although
the matter will be vulgar, and may be thought fitter for a declamation,
than agreeable to a treatise enfolded as this is ; yet because it is perti
nent to the point in hand, " neque semper arcum tendit Apollo," and
to name them only were too naked and cursory, I will not omit it
altogether.

The first was Nerva, the excellent temper of whose government, is
by a glance in Cornelius Tacitus touched to the life : " Postquam divus
Nerva res olim insociabiles miscuisset, imperium ct libertatem." And
in token of his learning, the last act of his short reign, left to memory,
was a missive to his adopted son Trajan, proceeding upon some
inward discontent at the ingratitude of the times, comprehended in a
verse of Homer's.

Tells, Phoebe, tuis lacrymas ulcisccre nostros.

Trajan, who succeeded, was for his person not learned : but if we
will hearken to the speech of our Saviour, that saith, "He that
receivcth a prophet in the name of a prophet, shall have a prophet's
reward," he deserveth to be placed amongst the most learned princes ;
for there was not a greater admirer of learning, or benefactor of
learning ; a founder of famous libraries, a perpetual advancer of
learned men to office, and a familiar converser with learned professors
and preceptors, who were noted to have then most credit in court. On
the other side, how much Trajan's virtue and government was
admired and renowned, surely no testimony of grave and faithful

T.I ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 129

history doth more lively set forth, than that legend tale of Gregorius
Magnus, bishop of Rome, who was noted for the extreme envy he boic
towards all heathen excellency ; and yet he is reported, out of the love
and estimation of Trajan's moral virtues, to have made unto God
passionate and fervent prayers for the delivery of his soul out of hell ;
and to have obtained it, with a caveat, that he should make no more
such petitions. In this prince's time also, the persecutions against the
Christians received intermission, upon the certificate ( f Tlinius Se-
cundus, a man of excellent learning, and by Trajan advanced.

Adrian, his successor, was the most curious man that lived, and the
most universal inquirer ; insomuch as it was noted for an error in his
mind, that he desired to comprehend all things, and not to reserve
\mnself for the worthiest things ; falling into the like humour that was
long before noted in Philip of Macedon, who, when he would needs
over-rule and put down an excellent musician, in an argument touching
music, was well answered by him again, " God forbid, Sir," saith he,
" that your fortune should be so bad, as to know these things better
than I." It pleased God likewise to use the curiosity of this emperor,
as an inducement to the peace of his Church in those days. For
having Christ in veneration, not as a God or Saviour, but as a wonder
or novelty ; and having his picture in his gallery, matched with
Apollonius, with whom, in his vain imagination, he thought he had
some conformity, yet it served the turn to allay the bitter hatred of
those times against the Christian name, so as the Church had peace
during his time. And for his government civil, although he did not
attain to that of Trajan's, in the glory of arms, or perfection of justice ,
yet in deserving of the weal of the subject he did exceed him. For
Trajan erected many famous monuments and buildings, insomuch as
Constantine the Great in emulation was wont to call him " Parietaria,"
wall-flower, because his name was upon so many walls : but his
buildings and works were more of glory and triumph than use and
necessity. But Adrian spent his whole reign, which was peaceable, in
a perambulation, or survey of the Roman empire, giving order, and
making assignation where he went, for re-edifying of cities, towns, and
forts decayed, and for cutting of rivers and streams, and for making
i and passages, and for policying of cities and commonalties
with new ordinances and constitutions, and granting new franchises
and incorporations ; so thac his whole time was a very restauration of
all the lapses and decays of former times.

Antoninus Pius, who succeeded him, was a prince excellently
learned ; and had the patient and subtle wit of a schoolman ; inso
much as in common speech, which leaves no virtue untaxcd, he was
called " Cymini sector," a carver, or a divider of cumin seed, which
is one of the least seeds ; such a patience he hud and settled spirit,
to enter into the least and most exact difference of causes, a fruit no
doubt of the exceeding tranquillity and serenity of his mind ; which
being no ways charged or encumbered, cither with fears, remorses, or
Scruples, but having been noted for a man of the purest goodness,
without all fiction or affectation, that hath reigned or lived, made his

'30 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

mind continually present and entire. He likewise approached a
dc'Tce nearer unto Christianity, and became, as Agrippa said unto
St° Paul, "half a Christian ;" holding their religion and law m good
opinion, and not only ceasing persecution, but giving way to the
advancement of Christians.

There succeeded him the first dim fratres, the two adoptive
brethren, Lucius Commodus Verus, son to ^lius Verus, who de
lighted much in the softer kind of learning, and was wont to call the
poet Martial his Virgil : and Marcus Aurelius Antoninus, whereof the
latter, who obscured his colleague, and survived him long, was named
the philosopher ; who, as he excelled all the rest in learning, so he
excelled them likewise in perfection of all royal virtues ; insomuch as
Julianus the emperor, in his book, intitled "Qcsarcs," being as a
pasquil or satire to deride all his predecessors, feigned, that they were
all invited to a banquet of the gods, and Silcnus the jester sat at the
nether end of the table, and bestowed a scoff on every one as they
came in ; but when Marcus Philosophus came in, Silcnus \yas
gravelled, and out of countenance, not knowing where to carp at him,
save at the last he gave a glance at his patience towards his wife.
And the virtue of this prince, continued with that of his predecessor,
made the name of Antoninus so sacred in the world, that though it
were extremely dishonoured in Commodus, Caracalla, and Helio-
gabnlus, who all bore the name ; yet when Alexander Severus refused
the name, because he was a stranger to the family, the Senate with one
acclamation said, "Quo modo Augustus, sic et Antoninus." In such
renown and veneration was the name of these two princes in those
days, that they would have had it as a perpetual addition in all the
emperor's stile. In this emperor's time also, the Church for the most
part was in peace; so as in this sequence of six princes, we do see the
blessed effects of learning in sovereignity, painted forth in the
greatest table of the world.

But for a tablet, or picture of smaller volume, not presuming to
speak of your majesty that livcth, in my judgment, the most excellent
is that of Queen Elizabeth, your immediate predecessor in this part of
Britain ; a princess that if Plutarch were now alive to write lives by
parallels, would trouble him, I think to find for her a parallel amongst
•women. This lady was endued with learning in her sex singular, and
rare even amongst masculine princes ; whether we speak of learning
of language, or of science, modern or ancient, divinity or humanity :
and unto the very last year of her life, she accustomed to appoint set
hours for reading ; scarcely any young student in an university, more
daily, or more duly. As for her government, I assure myself, I shall
not exceed, if I do affirm, that this part of the island never had forty-
five years of better times ; and yet not through the calmness of the
season, but through the wisdom of her regiment.

For if there be considered, of the one side, the truth of religion
established ; the constant peace and security ; the good administration
of justice ; the temperate use of the prerogative, not slackened, not
much strained; the nourishing state of learning, sortable to so excel-

A D VANCE ME NT OF LEA RNING.

lent a patroness ; the convenient estate of wealth and means, both of
ciown and subject ; the habit of obedience, and the moderation of
discontents ; and there be considered, on the other side, the differ
ences of religion, the troubles of neighbour countries, the ambition of
Spain, and opposition of Rome : and then, that she was solitary, and
of herself: these things, I say, considered ; as I could not have chosen
an instance so recent and so proper, so, I suppose, I could not have
chosen one more remarkable, or eminent, to the purpose now in hand,
which is concerning the conjunction of learning in the prince, with
felicity in the people.

Neither hath learning an influence and operation only upon civil
merit and moral virtue, and the arts or temperature of peace and
peaceable government ; but likewise it hath no less power and efficacy
m cnablement towards martial and military virtue and prowess ; as
may be notably represented in the examples of Alexander the great,
and Crrsar the dictator, mentioned before, but now in fit place to be
resumed ; of whose virtues and acts in war there needs no note or
recital, having been the wonders of time in that kind : but of their affec
tions towards learning, and perfections in learning, it is pertinent to
say somewhat.

Alexander was bred and taught under Aristotle the great philoso
pher, who dedicated divers of his books of philosophy unto him : he
was attended by Callisthenes, and divers other learned persons, that
followed him in camp, throughout his journeys and conquests. What
price and estimation he had learning in, doth notably appear in these
three particulars : first, in the envy he used to express that he bore
towards Achilles, in this, that he had so good a trumpet of his praises
as Homer's versus: secondly, in the judgment or solution he gave
touching that precious cabinet of Darius, which was found amongst
his jewels, whereof question was made as to what thing was worthy to
be put into it, and he gave his opinion for Homers works : thirdly, in
his letter to Aristotle, after he had set forth his books of nature, wherein
he expostulatcth with him for publishing the secrets or mysteries of
philosophy, and gave him to understand that himself esteemed it more
to excel other men in learning and knowledge, than in power and
empire. And what use he had of learning doth appear, or rather
shine, in all his speeches and answers, being full of science and use of
science, and that in all variety.

And here again it may seem a thing scholastical,and somewhat idle,
to recite things that every man knowcth ; but yet, since the argument
I handle Icadeth me thereunto, I am glad that men shall perceive I
am as willing to flatter, if they will so call it, an Alexander, or a Caesar,
or an Antoninus, that are dead many hundred years since, as any that
now livcth : for it is the displaying of the glory of learning in sover
eignty that I propound to myself, and not an humour of declaiming
any man's praises. Observe then the speech he used of Diogenes, and
see if it tend not to the true estate of one of the greatest questions of
moral philosophy ; whether the enjoying of outward things, or the con
temning of them, be the greatest happiness : for when he saw Diogenes

i32 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

so perfectly contented with so little, he said to those that mocked at
his condition ; " Were I not Alexander, I would wish to be Diogenes.
But Seneca inverteth it, and saith ; " Plus erat, quod hie nolle! accipere,
quam quod ille posset dare." " There were more things which Dio
genes would have refused, than those were, which Alexander could
have given or enjoyed."

Observe again that speech which was usual with him, I hat he felt his
mortality chiefly in two things, sleep and lust ;" and see if it were not
a speech extracted out of the depth of natural philosophy, and likev
to have come out of the mouth of Aristotle .or Democritus, than from
Alexander.

See again that speech of humanity and poesy ; when upon the bleed
ing of his wounds, he called unto one of his flatterers, that was wont
to\iscribe to him divine honour, and said, " Look, this is very blood ;
this is not such liquor as Homer speaketh of, which ra.i from Venus's
hand, when it was pierced by Diomedes."

See likewise his readiness in reprehension of logic in the speech he
used to Cassander, upon a complaint that was made against his fathei
Antipater : for when Alexander happened to say, " Do you think these
men would have come from so far to complain, except they had just
cause of grief?" And Cassander answered, "Yea, that was the
matter, because they thought they should not be disproved." Said
Alexander laughing : " See the subtilities of Aristotle, to take a mattci
both ways, pro cl contra" etc.

But note again how well he could use the same art, which he repre
hended, to serve his own humour, when bearing a secret grudge to
Callisthencs, because he was against the new ceremony of his adora
tion : feasting one night, where the same Callisthenes was at the table,
it was moved by some, after supper, for entertainment sake, that Callis
thenes, who was an eloquent man, might speak of some theme or pur
pose at his own choice : which Callisthenes did ; choosing the praise
of the Macedonian nation for his discourse, and performing the same
with so good manner, as the hearers were much ravished : whereupon
Alexander, nothing pleased, said, " It was easy to be eloquent upon so
good a subject. But," saith he, "turn your stile, and let us hear
what you can say against us :" which Callisthenes presently undertook,
and did with that sting and life, that Alexander interupted him, and
said, " The goodness of the cause made him eloquent before, and de
spite made him eloquent then again."

Consider farther, for tropes of rhetoric, that excellent use of a meta
phor or translation, wherewith he taxed Antipater, who was an im
perious and tyrannous governor : for when one of Antipater's friends
commended him to Alexander for his moderation, that he did not
degenerate, as his other lieutenants did, into the Persian pride in use
of purple, but kept the ancient habit of Maccdon, of black : '•' True/*
saith Alexander, " but Antipater is all purple within/' Or that other

n Parmenio came to him in the plain of Arbela, and showed him
the innumerable multitude of his enemies, especially as they appeared
by the infinite number of lights, as it had been a new firmament pi

I.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 133

stars, and thereupon advised him to assail them by night : whereupon
he .answered that he would not steal the victory."

For matter of policy, weigh that significant distinction, so much in
all ages embraced, that he made between his two friends, Hephacstion
and Craterus, when he said, " That the one loved Alexander, and the
other loved the king :" describing the principal difference of princes'
best servants, that some in affection love their person, and others in
dr.ty love their crown.

Weigh also that excellent taxation of an error ordinary with coun
sellors and princes, that they counsel their masters according to the
model of their own mind and fortune, and not of their masters ; when,
upon Darius's great offers, Parmenio had said, " Surely I would accept
these offers, were I as Alexander ; " saith Alexander, " So would I, were
1 as I'armcnio."

Lastly, weigh that quick and acute reply, which he made when he
gave so large gifts to his friends and servants, and was asked what he
did reserve for himself, and he answered, " Hope : " weigh, I say,
whether he had not cast up his account right, because hope must be
the portion of all that resolve upon great enterprises. For this was
Caesar's portion when he went first into Gaul, his estate beingthcn utterly
overthrown with largesses. And this was likewise the portion of that noble
prince, howsoever transported with ambition, Henry duke of Guise, of
whom it was usually said, that he was the greatest usurer in France,
because he had turned all his estate into obligations.

To conclude therefore : as certain critics arc used to say hypcrboli-
cally, "That if all sciences were lost, they might be found in Virgil ;'
so certainly this may be said truly, there are the prints and footsteps
of all learning in those few speeches which are reported of this prince :
the admiration of whom, when I consider him not as Alexander the
great, but as Aristotle's scholar, hath carried me too far.

As for Julius Caesar, the excellency of his learning needeth not to
be argued from his education, or his company, or his speeches ; but in
a farther degree doth declare itself in his writings and works ; whereof
some are extant and permanent, and some unfortunately perished.
For, first we sec, there is left unto us that excellent history of his own
wars, which he intitled only a commentary, wherein all succeeding
times have admired the solid weight of matter, and the real passages,
and lively images of actions and persons, expressed in the greatest
propriety of words and perspicuity of narration that ever was ; which
that it was not the effect of a natural gift, but of learning and precept,
is well witnessed by that work of his, intitled " DC Analogia," being a
grammatical philosophy, wherein he did labour to make this same
vox ad placitum to become -vox ad licitum, and to reduce custom
of speech to congruity of speech ; and took, as it were, the picture of
words from the life of reason.

So we receive from him, as a monument both of his power and
learning, the then reformed computation of the year ; well expressing
that he took it to be as great a glory to himself to observe and kno^v
the law of the heavens, as to give law to men upon the earth.

I34 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

So likewise in that book of his, " Anti-Cato," it may easily appear
that he did aspire as well to victory of wit as victory of war ; under
taking therein a conflict against the greatest champion with the pen
that then lived, Cicero the orator.

So again in his book of " Apophthegms," which he collected, we
see that he esteemed it more honour to make himself but a pair of
tables, to take the wise and pithy words of others, than to have every
word of his own to be made an apophthegm, or an oracle ; as vain
princes, by custom of flattery, pretend to do. And yet if I should
enumerate divers of his speeches, as I did those of Alexander, they are
truly such as Solomon noted, when he saith, " Verba sapientum tan-
quam aculci, ct tanguam clavi in altum defixi :" whereof I will only
recite three, not so delectable for elegancy, but admirable for vigour
and efficacy.

As first, it is reason he be thought a master of words, that could
with one word appease a mutiny in his army, which was thus : The
Romans, when their generals did speak to their army, did use the word
Militcs, but when the magistrates spake to the people, they did use the
word Quirites. The soldiers were in tumult, and seditiously prayed to
be cashiered ; not that they so meant, but by expostulation thereof to
draw Caisar to other conditions ; wherein he being resolute not to give
way, after some silence, he began his speech, " Ego, Quirites :" which
did admit them already cashiered : wherewith they were so surprised,
crossed, and confused, as they would not suffer him to go on in his
speech, but relinquished their demands, and made it their suit, to be
again called by the name of" Milites."

The second speech was thus : Caesar did extremely affect the name
of king ; and some were set on, as he passed by, in popular acclamation
to salute him king ; whereupon, finding the cry weak and poor, he put
it oif thus, in a kind of jest, as if they had mistaken his surname ;
" Non rex sum, scd Caesar ;" a speech, that if it be searched, the life
and fulness of it can scarce be expressed : for first, it was a refusal of
the name, but yet not serious : again, it did signify an infinite confi
dence and magnanimity, as if he presumed Caesar was the greater
title, as by his worthiness it is come to pass till this day : but chiefly,
it was a speech of great allurement towards his own purpose ; as if the
state did strive with him but for a name, whereof mean families were
vested ; for Rex was a surname with the Romans, as well as King is
with us.

The last speech which I will mention, was used to Mctellus ; when
Caesar, after war declared, did possess himself of the city of Rome, at
which time entering into the inner treasuiy to take the money there
accumulated, Mctellus, being tribune, forbad him : whereto Caesar said,
" That if he did not desist, he would lay him dead in the place." And
presently taking himself up, he added, " Young man, it is harder for
me to speak it, than to do it ;" " Adolescens, durius est mihi hoc
diccrc, quam facere." A speech compounded of the greatest terror
and greatest clemency that could proceed out of the mouth of man.

but to return, and conclude with him : it is evident, himself knew

I.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 135

well his own perfection in learning, and took it upon him : as appeared,
when, upon occasion that some spake, what a strange resolution it was
in Lucius Sylla to resign his dictature ; he scoffing at him, to his own
advantage, answered, " That Sylla could not skill of letters, and there
fore knew not how to dictate."

And here it were fit to leave this point, touching the concurrence of
military virtue and learning, for what example should come with any
grace, after those two of Alexander and Ca?sar, were it not in regard
of the rareness of circumstance, that I find in one other particular, as
that which did so suddenly pass from extreme scorn to extreme wonder ;
end it is of Xcnophon the philosopher, who went from Socratcs's
school into Asia, in the expedition of Cyrus the younger, against king
Artaxcrxes. This Xcnophon at that time was very young, and never
had seen the wars before ; neither had any command in the army, bat
only followed the war as a voluntary, for the love and conversation of
Proxenus his friend. He was present when Falinus came in message
from the great king to the Grecians, after that Cyrus was slain in the
field, and they a handful of men left to themselves in the midst of the
kings territories, cut off from their country by many navigable rivers,
and many hundred miles. The message imported that they should
deliver up their arms, and submit themselves to the king's mercy. To
which message before answer was made, divers of the army conferred
familiarly with Falinus : and amongst the rest Xenophon happened to
say, " Why, Falinus, we have now but these two things left, our arms
and our virtue ; and if we yield up our arms, how shall we make use of
our virtue?" Whereto Falinus, smiling on him said, "If I be not
deceived, young gentleman, you are an Athenian, and, I believe you
study philosophy, and it is pretty that you say ; but you are much
abused, if you think your virtue can withstand the king's power." Here
was the scorn : the wonder followed ; which was, that this young
scholar, or philosopher, after all the captains were murdered in parley
by treason, conducted those ten thousand foot, through the heart of all
the king's high countries, from Babylon to Grajcia in safety, in despite
of all the king's forces, to the astonishment of the world, and the
encouragement of the Grecians in time succeeding to make invasion
upon the kings of Persia ; as was after purposed by Jason the Thessa-
lian, attempted by Agesilaus the Spartan, and achieved by Alexander
the Macedonian, all upon the ground of the act of that young scholar.

To proceed now from imperial and military virtue to moral and
private virtue ; first, it is an assured truth, which is contained in th0
verses ;

Scilicet ingcnuas didicissc fidclitcr artcs,
Eraollit mores, nee sinit esse feros.

It takcth away the wildncss, and barbarism, and fierceness of
men's minds : but indeed the accent had need be upon fidclitcr ; for a
little superficial learning doth rather work a contrary effect. It takcth
away all levity, temerity, and insolcncy, by copious suggestion of all
doubts and difficulties, and acquainting the mind to balance reasons on

136 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

both sides, and to turn back the first offers and conceits of the mine!,
and to accept of nothing but examined and tried. It taketh away vain
admiration of anything, which is the root of all weakness : for all
things are admired, either because they are new, or because they are
great. For novelty, no man that wadeth in learning or contemplation
thoroughly, but will find that printed in his heart, " Nil novi super
terram." 'Neither can any man marvel at the play of puppets, that
goeth behind the curtain, and adviseth well of the motion. And for
magnitude, as Alexander the great, after he was used to great armies,
and the conquests of the spacious provinces in Asia, when he received
letters out of Greece, of some fights and services there, which were
commonly for a passage, or a fort, or some walled town at the most,
he said, " It seemed to him, that he was advertised of the battle of the
frogs and the mice, that the old tales went of." So certainly, if a man
meditate upon the universal frame of nature, the earth with men upon
it, the divineness of souls excepted, will not seem much other than an
ant-hill, where some ants carry corn, and some carry their young, and
some go empty, and all to and fro a little heap of dust. It taketh
away or mitigateth fear of death, or adverse fortune ; which is one ot
the gieatest impediments of virtue, and imperfections of manners.
For if a man's mind be deeply seasoned with the consideration of the
mortality and corruptible nature of things, he will easily concur with
Epictetus, who went forth one day, and saw a woman weeping for her
pitcher of earth that was broken ; and went forth the next day, and
saw a woman weeping for her son that was dead ; and thereupon said,
" Ileri vidi fragilem frangi, hodie vidi mortalem mori." And therefore
did Virgil excellently and profoundly couple the knowledge of causes,
and the conquest of all fears together, as concomitantia :

Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Quique metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum
Subjt-cit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis a\-ari.

It were too long to go over the particular remedies which learning
doth minister to all the diseases of the mind, sometimes purging the
ill humours, sometimes opening the obstructions, sometimes helping
digestion, sometimes increasing appetite, sometimes healing the
wounds and exulcerations thereof, and the like ; and therefore I
will conclude with that which hath " rationem totius," which is, that
it disposeth the constitution of the mind not to be fixed or settled in
the defects thereof, but still to be capable and susceptible of growth
and reformation. For the unlearned man knows not what it is to
descend into himself, or to call himself to account ; nor the pleasure
: that " suavissima vita, indies sentire se fieri meliorem." The good
parts he hath, he will learn to show to the full, and use them dexter
ously, but not much to increase them; the faults he hath, he will learn
hide and colour them, but not much to amend them : like an ill
mower, that mows on still, and never whets his scythe. Whereas,
c learned man it fares otherwise that he doth ever intermix
lion and amendment of his mind, with the use and employ-

I.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 137

ment thereof. Nay, farther, in general and in sum, certain it is, that
writ is and bonitas differ but as the seal and the print : for truth prims
goodness ; and they be the clouds of error, which descend in the
£torms of passions and perturbations.

From moral virtue let us pass o~». to matter of power and com-
m.indment, and consider whether in right reason there be any
comparable with that, wherewith knowledge investeth and crowneth
man's nature. We see the dignity of the commandment is according
to the dignity of the commanded : to have commandment over beasts,
as hcrdmen have, is a thing contemptible ; to have commandmenc
over children, as schoolmasters have, is a matter of small honour; to
have commandment over galley-slaves, is a disparagement, rather
than an honour. Neither is the commandment of tyrants mucft
better, over people which have put oft the generosity of their minds :
and therefore it was ever holden, that honours in free monarchies and
commonwealths had a sweetness more than in tyrannies, because the
commandment extendcth more over the wills of men, and not only
over their deeds and services. And therefore when Virgil puttcth
himself forth to attribute to Augustus Ca?sar the best of human
honours, he doth it in these words :

• victorque volentes

Per populos dat jura, vhtnque affectat Olympo.

But the commandment of knowledge is yet higher than the command
ment over the will ; for it is a commandment over the reason, belief,
and understanding of man, which is the highest part of the mind,
and giveth law to the will itself: for there is no power on earth, which
sctteth up a throne, or chair of state, in the spirits and souls of men,
and in their cogitations, imaginations, opinions, and beliefs, but know
ledge and learning. And therefore we see the detestable and extreme
pleasure that arch-heretics, and false prophets are transported with,
when they once find in themselves that they have a superiority
in the faith and conscience of men ; so great, as, if they have once
tasted of it, it is seldom seen that any torture or persecution can
make them relinquish or abandon it. But as this is that which the
author of the "Revelation" calleth "the depth," or profoundness,
"of Satan;" so, by argument of contraries, the just and lawful
sovereignty over men's understanding, by force of truth rightly
interpreted, is that which approachcth nearest to the similitude of
the divine rule.

As for fortune and advancement, the beneficence of learning is
not so confined to give fortune only to states and commonwealths, as
it doth not likewise give fortune to particular persons. For it was
well noted long ago, that Homer hath given more men their livings,
than cither Sylla, or Caesar, or Augustus ever did, notwithstanding
their great largesses and donatives, and distributions of lands to so
many legions ; and no doubt it is hard to say, whether arms or learn
ing h.ive advanced greater numbers. And in case of sovereignty we
see, that if arms or descent have carried away the kingdom, yet

138 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [BooV.

learning hath carried the priesthood, which ever hath been in some
competition with empire.

Again for the pleasure and delight of knowledge and learning, it
far sirrpasscth all other in nature: for shall the pleasures of the affec
tions so exceed the pleasures of the senses, as much as the obtaining
of desire or victory exceedeth a song or a dinner? and must not, of
consequence, the pleasures of the intellect, or understanding, exceed
the pleasures of the affections ? We see in all other pleasures there
is a satiety, and after they be used, their verdure departeth ; which
showcth well they be but deceits of pleasure, and not pleasures ; and
that it was the novelty which pleased, and not the quality ; and there
fore we see that voluptuous men turn friars, and ambitious princes
turn melancholy. But of knowledge there is no satiety, but satis
faction and appetite are perpetually interchangeable ; and therefore
appeared! to be good in itself simply, without fallacy or accident.
Neither is that pleasure of small efficacy and contentment to the
mind of man, which the poet Lucretius described! elegantly :
Suave mari magno, turbantibus aequora ventis, etc.

" It is a view of delight," saith he, " to stand or walk upon the shore
side, and to see a ship tossed with tempest upon the sea ; or to be in
a fortified tower, and to see two battles join upon a plain ; but it is
a pleasure incomparable for the mind of man to be settled, landed,
and fortified in the certainty of truth, and from thence to descry and
behold the errors, perturbations, labours, and wanderings up and
down of other men."

Lastly, leaving the vulgar arguments that by learning man excelleth
man in that wherein man excelleth beasts ; that by learning man
asccndeth to the heavens and their motions, where in body he cannot
come, and the like : let us conclude with the dignity and excellency
of knowledge and learning in that whereunto man's nature doth most
aspire, which is, immortality or continuance : for to this tendeth
generation, and raising of houses and families ; to this tend build
ings, foundations, and monuments ; to this tendeth the desire of
memory, fame, and celebration, and in effect the strength of all other
human desires. We see then how far the monuments of wit and
learning are more durable than the monuments of power, or of the
hands. For have not the verses of Homer continued twenty-five
hundred years, or more, without the loss of a syllable or letter ; during
which time, infinite palaces, temples, castles, cities, have been decayed
and demolished ? It is not possible to have the true pictures or statues
of Cyrus, Alexander, Caesar ; no, nor of the kings or great personages
of much later years; for the originals cannot last, and the copies
cannot but lose of the life and truth. But the images of men's wit?
and knowledges remain in books exempted from the wrong of time,
and capable of perpetual renovation. Neither are they fitly to be
called images, because they generate still, and cast their seeds in the
mind of others, provoking and causing infinite actions and opinions
In succeeding ages : so that if the invention of the ship was thought

1 .j ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 139

so noble, which carricth riches and commodities from place to place,
and consociatcth the most remote regions in participation of their
fruits ; how much more are letters to be magnified, which, as ships,
pass through the vast seas of time, and make ages so distant to par
ticipate of the wisdom, illuminations, and inventions, the one of the
other? Nay farther, we sec, some of the philosophers which were
least divine, and most immersed in the senses, and denied generally
the immortality of the soul ; yet came to this point, that whatsoever
motions the spirit of man could act and perform without the organg
of the body, they thought might remain after death, which were only
those of the understanding, and not of the affections ; so immortal and
incorruptible a thing did knowledge seem unto them to be. But we,
that know by divine revelation, that not only the understanding, but
the affections purified ; not only the spirit, but the body changed, shall
be advanced to immortality, do disclaim in these rudiments of the
senses. But it must be remembered both in this last point, and so it
may likewise be needful in other places, that in probation of the
dignity of knowledge or learning, I did in the beginning separate
divine testimony from human, which method I have pursued, and so
handled them both apart.

Nevertheless I do not pretend, and I know it will be impossible for
me, by any pleading of mine, to reverse the judgment, either of yEsop's
cock, that preferred the barley-corn before the gem ; or of Midas, that
being chosen judge between Apollo, president of the muses, and Pan,
god of the flocks, judged for plenty ; or of Paris, that judged for beauty
and love, against wisdom and power ; or of Agrippina, " Occidat ma-
trem, modo imperet," that preferred empire with any condition never
so detestable ; or of Ulysses, "qui vctulam pnctulit immortalitati,"
being a figure of those which prefer custom and habit before all excel
lency ; or of a number of the like popular judgments. For these things
must continue as they have been ; but so will that also continue,
whereupon learning hath ever relied, and which faileth not : " Justi-
ficatn cst Sapicntia a filiis suis."

BOOK II.

IT might seem to have more convenience, though it come often
otherwise to pass, excellent king, that those, which arc fruitful in their
generations, and have in themselves the foresight of immortality in
their descendants, should likewise be more careful of the good estate of
future times, unto which, they know, they must transmit and commend
their dearest pledges. Queen Elizabeth was a sojourncr in the
world, in respect of her unmarried life, and was a blessing to her own
times ; and yet so as the impression of her good government, besides
her happy memory, is not without some effect which doth survive her.
fcut to your majesty, whom God hath already blessed with so much

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

royal issue, worthy to continue and represent you for ever ; and whose
youthful and fruitful bed doth yet promise many the like renovations j
it is proper and agreeable to be conversant, not only in the transitory
parts of good government, but in those acts also which are in their
nature permanent and perpetual : amongst the which, if affection do
not transport me, there is not any more worthy, than the farther
endowment of the world with sound and fruitful knowledge. For why
should a few received authors stand up like Hercules's columns ; be
yond which there should be no sailing or discovering, since we have
so bright and benign a star as your majesty, to conduct and prosper
us? To return therefore where we left, it remaineth to consider of what
kind those acts are, which have been undertaken and performed by
kings and others, for the increase and advancement of learning, where
in 1 purpose to speak actively, without digressing or dilating.

Let this ground therefore be laid, that all works are overcome by
amplitude of reward, by soundness of direction, and by the conjunction
of labours. The first multiplieth endeavour, the second prcventcth
error, and the third supplieth the frailty of man ; but the principal of
these is direction : for " claudus in via antevertit cursorem extra
viam ;" and Solomon excellently setteth it down, " If the iron be not
sharp, it rcquircth more strength ; but wisdom is that which prevail-
eth : " signifying, that the invention or election of the mean is more
effectual than any inforcement or accumulation of endeavours. This
I am induced to speak, for that, not derogating from the noble inten
tion of any that have been deservers towards the state of learning, I
do observe, nevertheless, that their works and acts are rather matters
of magnificence and memory, than of progression and proficience,
and tend rather to augment the mass of learning, in the multitude of
learned men, than to rectify or raise the sciences themselves.

The works or acts of merit towards learning are conversant about
three objects : the places of learning, the books of learning, and the
persons of the learned. For as water, whether it be the dew of heaven,
or the springs of the earth, doth scatter and lose itself in the ground,
except it be collected into some receptacle, where it may by union com
fort and sustain itself; and for that cause the industry of man hath
made and framed spring-heads, conduits, cisterns, and pools, which
men have accustomed likewise to beautify and adorn with accomplish
ments of magnificence and state, as well as of use and necessity ; so
this excellent liquor of knowledge, whether it descend from divine
inspiration, or spring from human sense, would soon perish and vanish
to oblivion, if it were not preserved in books, traditions, conferences,
and places appointed ; as universities, colleges, and schools, for the
receipt and comforting of the same.

The works which concern the seats and places of learning are
four : foundations and buildings, endowments with revenues, endow
ments with franchises and privileges, institutions and ordinances for
government ; all tending to quietness and privateness of life, and dis
charge of cares and troubles ; much like the stations which Virgil
prescribeth for the hiving of bees :

1 1.] AD VANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 14 1

Principle sedes apibus statioque petenda,
Quo ncque sit ventis aditus, etc.

The works touching books are two ; first, libraries, which are as
the shrines where all the relicks of the ancient saints, full of true virtue,
and that without delusion or imposture, are preserved and reposed :
secondly, new editions of authors, with more correct impressions, more
faithful translations, more profitable glosses, more diligent annotations,
and the like.

The works pertaining to the persons of learned men, besides the
advancement and countenancing of them., in general, are two : the
reward and designation of readers in sciences already extant and
invented ; and the reward and designation of writers and inquirers
concerning any parts of learning not sufficiently laboured and pro
secuted.

These are summarily the works and acts, wherein the merits of
many excellent princes and other worthy personages have been con
versant. As for any particular commemorations, I call to mind what
Cicero said, when he gave the general thanks : " Difficile non aliquem,
ingratum quenquam praeterire." Let us rather, according to the Scrip
tures, look unto the part of the race which is before us, than look back
to that which is already attained.

First therefore, amongst so many great foundations of colleges in
Europe, I find strange that they are all dedicated to professions, and
none left free to arts and sciences at large. For if men judge that
learning should be referred to action, they judge well ; but in this they
f?.ll into the error described in the ancient fable, in which the other
parts of the body did suppose the stomach had been idle, because it
neither performed the office of motion, as the limbs do, nor of sense,
as the head doth ; but yet, notwithstanding, it is the stomach that
digesteth and distributcth to all the rest : so if any man think philo-
sophy and universality to be idle studies, he doth not consider that all
professions are from thence served and supplied. And this I take to
be a great cause that hath hindered the progression of learning, because
these fundamental knowledges have been studied but in passage. For
if you will have a tree bear more fruit than it hath used to do, it is not
anything you can do to the boughs, but it is the stirring of the earth,
•and putting new mould about the roots, that must work it. Neither
is it to be forgotten, that this dedicating of foundations and dotations
to profcssory learning, hath not only had a malign aspect and influence
upon the growth of sciences, but hath also been prejudicial to states
and governments. For hence it procccdeth that princes find a soli
tude in regard of able men to serve them in causes of estate, because
there is no education collegiate which is free, where such as were so
disposed might give themselves to histories, modern languages, books
of policy and civil discourse, and other the like cnablcments unto scr-
v'.-.c of state.

And because founders of colleges do plant, and founders of lectures
cio water, it followeth well in order, to speak of the defect which is in
public lectures ; namely, in the smallness and meanness of the salary

M2 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

or reward, which in most places is assigned unto them ; whether they
be lectures of arts or of professions. For it is necessary to the pro
gression of sciences, that readers be of the most able and sufficient
men, as those which are ordained for generating and propagating of
sciences, and not for transitory use. This cannot be, except their
condition and endowment be such as may content the ablest man to
appropriate his whole labour, and continue his whole age in that
function and attendance, and therefore must have a proportion
answerable to that mediocrity or competency of advancement, which
may be expected from a profession, or the practice of a profession.
So as, if you will have sciences flourish, you must observe David's
military law, which was, " That those which staid with the carriage,
should have equal part with those which were in the action ; " else will
the carriages be ill attended. So readers in sciences are indeed the
guardians of the stores and provisions of sciences, whence men in
active courses are furnished, and therefore ought to have equal enter
tainment with them ; otherwise if the fathers in sciences be of the
weakest sort, or be ill-maintained,

Et patrum invalid! referent jejunia nati.

Another defect I note, wherein I shall need some alchemist to help
me, who call upon men to sell their books, and to build furnaces,
quitting and forsaking Minerva and the Muses as barren virgins, and
relying upon Vulcan. But certain it is, that unto the deep, fruitful, and
operative study of many sciences, especially natural philosophy and
physic, books be not only the instrumentals wherein also the bene
ficence of men hath not been altogether wanting : for we see spheres,
globes, astrolabes, maps, and the like, have been provided as appur
tenances to astronomy and cosmography, as well as books ; we see
likewise, that some places instituted for physic have annexed the
commodity of gardens for simples of all sorts, and do likewise
command the use of dead bodies for anatomies. But these do respect
but a few things. In general, there will hardly be any main pro-
ficience in the disclosing of nature, except there be some allowance for
expenses about experiments ; whether they be experiments appertaining
to Vulcanus or Daedalus, furnace or engine, or any other kind ; and
therefore as secretaries and spials of princes and states bring in'.bills for
intelligence, so you must allow the spials and intelligencers of nature
to bring in their bills, or else you shall be ill advertised.

And if Alexander made such a liberal assignation to Aristotle of
treasure for the allowance of hunters, fowlers, fishers, and the like,
that he might compile an history of nature, much better do they
deserve it that travel in arts of nature.

Another defect which I note, is an intermission or neglect, in those
which are governors in universities, of consultation ; and in princes, or
superior persons, of visitation : to enter into account and consideration,
whether the readings, exercises, and other customs, appertaining unto
earning, anciently begun, and since continued, be well instituted or
no, and thereupon to ground an amendment or reformation in that

IT.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 143

which shall be found inconvenient. For it is one of your majesty's
own most wise and princely maxims, " That in all usages and pre
cedents, the times be considered wherein they first began, which if
they were weak or ignorant, it dcrogatcth from the authority of the
, and leaveth it for suspect." And therefore inasmuch as most
of the usages and orders of the universities were derived from more
obscure times, it is the more requisite they be re-examined. In this
kind I will give an instance or two, for example's sake, of things that
are the most obvious and familiar : the one is a matter, which though
it be ancient and general, yet I hold to be an error, which is, that
scholars in universities come too soon and too unripe to logic and
rhetoric, arts fitter for graduates than children and novices ; for these
two, rightly taken, arc the gravest of sciences, being the arts of arts,
the one for judgment, the other for ornament. And they be the rules
and directions how to set forth and dispose matter ; and therefore for
minds empty and unfr.iught with matter, and which have not gathered
that which Cicero calleth sylva and supdlex, stuff and variety, to
begin with those arts, as if one should learn to weigh, or to measure,
or to paint the wind, doth work but this effect that the wisdom'of those
arts, which is great and universal, is almost made contemptible, and is
degenerate into childish sophistry and ridiculous affectation. And
farther, the untimely learning of them hath drawn on, by consequence,
the superficial and unprofitable teaching and writing of them, as fittcth
indeed to the capacity of children. Another, ic a lack I find in the
exercises used in the universities, which. do make too great a divorce
between invention and memory ; for their speeches arc cither pre
meditate /// I'crbis conccptis, where nothing is left to invention ; or
merely cxtcmporal, where little is left to memory ; whereas in life and
action there is least use of cither of these, but rather of intermixtures
of premeditation and invention, notes and memory ; so as the exercise
fitteth not the practice, nor the image the life ; and it is ever a true
rule in exercises, that they be framed as near as may be to the life of
practice, for otherwise they do pervert the motions and faculties of the
mind, and not prepare them. The truth whereof is not obscure, when
scholars come to the practices of professions, or other actions of civil
life, which when they set into, this want is soon found by themselves,
ajul sooner by others. But this part, touching the amendment of the
institutions and orders of universities, I will conclude with the clause
of Caesar's letter to Oppius and Balbus, " Hoc quemadmodum fieri
possit, nonnulla mihi in mcntcm vcniunt, et multa rcpcriri possunt : de
lis rebus rogo vos, ut cogitationem suscipiatis."

Another defect, which I note, ascendcth a little higher than the
precedent ; for as the proficience of learning consisteth much in the
orders and iustitutions of universities in the same states and king
doms, so it would yet more be advanced, if there were more
intelligence mutual between the universities of Europe than now
there is. We sec there be many orders and foundations, which
though they be divided under several sovereignties and territories,
yet they take themselves to have a kind of contract, fraternity, and

144 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

correspondence one with another, insomuch as they have provincials
and generals. And surely as nature createth brotherhood in families,
and arts mechanical contract brotherhoods in commonalties, and the
anointment of God superinduceth a brotherhood in kings and bishops :
so in like manner there cannot but be a fraternity in learning and
illumination, relating to that paternity which is attributed to God, who
is called the Father of illuminations or lights.

The last defect which I will note is, that there hath not been, or
very rarely been, any public designation of writers or inquirers con
cerning such parts of knowledge, as may appear not to have been
already sufficiently laboured or undertaken : unto which point it is an
inducement to enter into a view and examination what parts of learn
ing have been prosecuted, and what omitted : for the opinion of plenty
is amongst the causes of want, and the great quantity of books maketh
a show rather of superfluity than lack ; which surcharge, nevertheless,
is not to be remedied by making no more books, but by making more
good books, which, as the serpent of Moses, might devour the serpents
of the enchanters.

The removing of all the defects formerly enumerated, except the last,
and of the active part also of the last, which is the designation of writers,
are opera basilica; towards which the endeavours of a private man
may be but as an image in a cross-way, that may point at the way, but
cannot go it. But the inducing part of the latter, which is the sur
vey of learning, may be set forward by private travel : wherefore I will
now attempt to make a general and faithful perambulation of learning,
with an inquiry what parts thereof lie fresh and waste, and not im
proved and converted by the industry of man ; to the end that such a
plot, made and recorded to memory, may both minister light to any
public designation, and also serve to excite voluntary endeavours :
wherein, nevertheless, my purpose is at this time to note only omis
sions and deficiencies, and not to make any redargution of errors, or
incomplete prosecutions : for it is one thing to set forth what ground
licth unmanured, and another thing to correct ill husbandry in that
which is manured.

In the handling and undertaking of which work I am not ignorant
what it is that I do now move and attempt, nor insensible of mine own
weakness to sustain my purpose; but my hope is that if my extreme
love to learning carry me too far, I may obtain the excuse of affection ;
for that " it is not granted to man to love and to be wise." But, I know
v/cll, I can use no other liberty of judgment than I must leave to
others ; and I, for my part, shall be indifferently glad either to perform
myself, or to accept from another, that duty of humanity, " Nam qui
erranti comiter monstrat viam," etc. I do foresee likewise, that of
those things which I shall enter and register, as deficiencies and
omissions, many will conceive and censure, that some of them are
already done and extant ; others to be but curiosities, and things of
no great use ; and others to be of too great difficulty, and almost im-

iibility to be compassed and effected : but for the two first, I refer
myself to the particulars ; for the last, touching impossibility, I take it,

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. MS

those things are to be held possible, which may be done by some per
son, though not by every one ; and which may be done by many,
though not by any one ; and which may be done in succession of ages,
though not within the hour-glass of one man's life; and which may be
done by public designation, though not by private endeavour.

But, notwithstanding, if any man will take to himself rather that ol
Solomon, " Dicit piger, Leo est in via," than that of Virgil, " Possunt
qu*a posse vidcntur : " I shall be content that my labours be esteemed
but as the better sort of wishes ; for as it asketh some knowledge to
demand a question not impertinent, so it requircth some sense to make
a wish not absurd.

THE parts of human learning have reference to the three parts ol
man's Understanding, which is the seat of learning : History to hi.-
Memory, Poesy to his Imagination, and Philosophy tD his Reason.
Divine learning receiveth the same distribution, for the spirit of man
is the same, though the revelation of oracle and sense be diverse : so
as theology consistcth also of history of the Church ; of parables, which
is divine poesy ; and of holy doctrine c: precept : for as for that part
which scemcth supernumerary, which is prophecy, it is but divine his
tory ; which hath that prerogative over human, as the narration may be
before the fact, as well as after.

HISTORY is Natural \ Civil, Ecclesiastical, and Literary ; whereof
the three first I allow as extant, the fourth I denote as deficient. For
no man hath propounded to himself the general state of learning to be
described and represented from age to age, as many have done the
works of nature, and the state civil and ecclesiastical ; without which
the history of the world secmeth to me to be as the statue of Poly
phemus with his eye out, that part being wanting which doth most
show the spirit and life of the person : and yet I am not ignorant, that
in divers particular sciences, as of the jurisconsults, the mathemati
cians, the rhetoricians, the philosophers, there arc set down some small
memorials of the schools, authors, and books ; and so likewise some
barren relations touching t! c invention of arts or usages.

Hut a just story of learning, containing the antiquities and originals
vvledgcs and their sects, their inventions, their traditions, their
divers administrations and managings, their flourishings, their oppo-
, decays, depressions, oblivions, removes, with the causes and
ns of them, and all other events concerning learning, through-
ages of the world, I may truly affirm to be wanting.

The use and end of which work, I do not so much design for curio
sity, or satisfaction of those that arc lovers of learning, but chiefly for
a more serious and grave purpose, which is this in a few words, that
:t \vill make learned men wise in the use and administration of learn
ing. For it is not St. Augustine's nor St. Ambrose's works that will
make so wise a divine, as ecclesiastical history thoroughly read and
observed : and the same reason is of learning.

HISTORY of Nature is of three sorts ; of nature in course, of nature

10

146 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

erring or varying, and of nature altered or wrought ; that is, history of
creatures, history of marvels, and history of arts.

The first of these, no doubt, is extant, and that in good perfection ;
the two latter are handled so weakly and unprofitably, as I am moved
to note them rs deficient.

For I find no sufficient or competent collection of the works of
nature, which have a digression and deflexion from the ordinary
course of generations, productions, and motions, whether they be
singularities of place and region, or the strange events of time and
chance, or the effects of yet unknown properties, or the instances of
exception to general kinds : it is true, I find a number of books of fabu
lous experiments and secrets, and frivolous impostures for pleasure
and strangeness : but a substantial and severe collection of the hetcro-
clitcs, or irregulars of nature, well examined and described, I find not,
especially not with due rejection of fables, and popular errors : for as
things now are, if an untruth in nature be once on foot, what by reason of
the neglect of examination and countenance of antiquity, and what by
reason of the use of the opinion in similitudes and ornaments of
speech, it is never called down.

The use of this work, honoured with a precedent in Aristotle, is
nothing less than to give contentment to the appetite of curious and
vain wits, as the manner of rnirabilaries is to do ; but for two reasons,
both of great weight : the one, to correct the partiality of axioms and
opinions, which are commonly framed only upon common and familiar
examples ; the other, because from the wonders of nature is the nearest
intelligence and passage towards the wonders of art : for it is no more,
but by following, and as it were hounding nature in her wanderings, to
be able to lead her afterwards to the same place again.

Neither am I of opinion, in this history of marvels, that super
stitious narrations of sorceries, witchcrafts, dreams, divinations, and
the like, where ihere is an assurance and clear evidence of the fact, be
altogether excluded. For it is not yet known in what cases, and how
far, effects attributed to superstition do participate of natural causes :
and therefore howsoever the practice of such things is to be condemned,
yet from the speculation and consideration of them light may be taken,
not only for the discerning of the offences, but for the farther disclo-
ing of nature. Neither ought a man to make scruple of entering into
these things for inquisition of truth, as your majesty hath showed in
your own example : who with the two clear eyes of religion and natural
philosophy have looked deeply and wisely into these shadows, and yet
proved yourself to be of the nature of the sun, which passeth through
pollutions, and itself remains as pure as before.

But this I hold fit, that these narrations, which have mixture with
superstition, be sorted by themselves, and not to be mingled with the
narrations, which arc merely and sincerely natural.

But as for the narrations touching the prodigies and miracles of
religions, they arc either not true, or not natural ; and therefore imper
tinent for the story of nature.

For history of nature wrought, or mechanical, I find some collections

II.1 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. M7

mide of agriculture, and likewise of manual arts, but commonly with
a rejection of experiments familiar and vulgar.

For it is esteemed a kind of dishonour unto learning, to descend to
inquiry or meditation upon matters mechanical, except they be such
a* may be thought secrets, rarities, and special subtiltics ; which hu
mour of vain and supercilious arrogancy is justly derided in Plato ;
where he brings in Hippias, a vaunting sophist, disputing with Socrates,
a true and unfeigned inquisitor of truth ; where the subject being
touching beauty, Socrates, after his wandering manner of inductions,
put first an example of a fair virgin, and then of a fair horse, and then
of a fair pot well glazed, whereat Hippias was offended ; and said,
" More than for courtesy's sake, he did not think much to dispute with
any that did allcdge such base and sordid instances : whereunto
Socrates answered, You have reason, and it becomes you well, being a
man so trim in your vestments," etc. And so goeth on in an irony.

But the truth is, they be not the highest instances that give the
securest information ; as may be well expressed in the tale so common
of the philosopher, that while he gazed upwards to the stars fell into
the water ; for if he had looked down he might have seen the stars in
the water, but looking aloft, he could not see the water in the stars.
So it comcth often to pass, that mean and small things discover great,
better than great can discover the small ; and therefore Aristotle
notcth well, " that the nature of every thing is best seen in his smallest
portions." And for that cause he inquireth the nature of a common
wealth, first in a family, and the simple conjugations of man and wife,
parent and child, master and servant, which are in every cottage.
Even so likewise the nature of this great city of the world, and the
policy thereof, must be first sought in mean concordances and small
portions. So we see how that secret of nature, of the turning of iron,
touched with the loadstone, towards the north was found out in needles
of iron, not in bars of iron.

But if my judgment be of any weight, the use of History Mechani
cal is, of all others, the most radical and fundamental towards natural
philosophy ; such natural philosophy as shall not vanish in the fume
oi' subtile, sublime, or delectable speculation, but such as shall be
operative to the endowment and benefit of man's life : for it will not
oi^.ly minister and suggest for the present many ingenious practices in
all trades, by a connexion and transferring of the observations of one
art to the use of another, when the experiences of several mysteries
shall fall under the consideration of one man's mind ; but farther, it
will ^ivc a more true and real illumination concerning causes and
axioms than is hitherto attained.

For like as a man's disposition is never well known till he be
crossed, nor Proteus ever changed shapes till he was straitened and
held fast ; so the passages and variations of nature cannot appear so
fully in the liberty of nature, as in the trials and vexations of art.

FOR Civil History, it is of three kinds, not unfitly to be compared
with the three kinds of pictures or images : for of pictures or images,

I48 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

we see, some are unfinished, some are perfect, and some are defaced
So of histories we may find three kinds, Memorials, Perfect Histories,
and Antiquities ; for memorials are history unfinished, or the first or
rough draughts of history; and antiquities are history defaced, or some
remnants of history which have casually escaped the shipwreck of time.

Memorials, or preparatory history, are of two sorts, whereof the
one may be termed Commentaries, and the other Registers. Com
mentaries are they which set down a continuance of the naked events
and actions, without the motives or designs, the counsels, ib«
speeches, the pretexts, the occasions, and other passages of action :
for this is the true nature of a Commentary, though Caesar, in modesty
mixed with greatness, did for his pleasure apply the name of a Com-
liicntary to the best history of the world. Registers are collections of
public acts, as decrees of council, judicial proceedings, declarations
and letters of state, orations, and the like, without a perfect continuance
or contexture of the thread of the narration.

Antiquities, or remnants of history, are, as was said, tanquam
tabula naufragii, when industrious persons, by an exact and scrupulous
diligence and observation, out of monuments, names, words, proverbs,
traditions, private records and evidences, fragments of stories, pas
sages of books that concern not story, and the like, do save and recover
somewhat from the deluge of time.

In these kinds of imperfect histories I do assign no deficience, for
they are tanquam imperfecte mista, and therefore any deficience in
them is but their nature.

As for the corruptions and moths of history, which are Epitomes,
the use of them deservcth to be banished, as all men of sound judgment
have confessed, as those that have fretted and corroded the sound
bodies of many excellent histories, and wrought them into base and
unprofitable dregs.

History, which may be called Just and Perfect History, is of three
kinds, according to the object which it propounded!, or pretendeth t<i
represent : for it either representeth a time, or a person, or an action.
The first we call Chronicles, the second Lives, and the third Narra
tions, or Relations.

Of these, although the first be the most complete and absolute kind
of history, and hath most estimation and glory, yet the second excelleth
it in profit and use, and the third in verity and sincerity. For history
of times reprasenteth the magnitude of actions, and the public faces
and deportments of persons, and passeth over in silence the smaller
passages and motions of men and matters.

But such being the workmanship of God, as he doth hang the
greatest weight upon the smallest wires, maxima eminimissuspeiide.ns,
it comes therefore to pass, that such histories do rather set forth the
pomp of business than the true and inward resorts thereof. But lives,
if they be well written, propounding to themselves a person to repre
sent, in whom actions, both greater and smaller, public and private,
have a commixture, must of a necessity contain a more true, native,
and lively representation So again narrations and relations of actions,

1 1 . ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 149

as the War of Peloponnesus, the Expedition of Cyrus Minor, the Con
spiracy of Catiline, cannot but be more purely and exactly true, than
histories of times, because they may choose an argument comprehen
sible within the notice and instructions of the writer : whereas he that
undertaketh the story of a time, especially of any length, cannot but
meet with many blanks and spaces, which he must be forced to fill up
out of his own wit and conjecture.

For the History of Times, I mean of civil history, the providence of
God hath made the distribution : for it hath pleased God to ordain
and illustrate two exemplar states of the world for arms, learning,
moral virtue, policy, and laws. The state of Gra?cia, and the state of
Rome : the histories whereof occupying the middle part of time, have
more ancient to them, histories which may by one common name be
termed the Antiquities of the world ; and after them, histories which
may be likewise called by the name of Modern History.

Now to speak of the deficiences. As to the heathen antiquities of
the world, it is in vain to note them for deficient : deficient they are
no doubt, consisting most of fables and fragments, but the deficience
cannot be holpen ; for antiquity is like fame, caput inter nubila condit^
her head is muffled from our sight. For the history of the exemplar
states, it is extant in good perfection. Not but I could wish there
were a perfect course of history for Graecia from Theseus to Philopoe-
men, what time the affairs of Gratia were drowned and extinguished
in the affairs of Rome ; and for Rome from Romulus to Justinianus,
who may be truly said to be ultimus Romanorum. In which sequences
of story the text of Thucydides and Xenophon in the one, and the
text of Livius, Polybius, Salustius, Cxsar, Appianus, Tacitus, Hero-
dianus, in the other, to be kept entire, without any diminution at all,
and only to be supplied and continued. But this is matter of magni
ficence, rather to be commended than required ; and we speak now
of parts of learning supplemental, and not of supererogation.

But for Modern Histories, whereof there are some few very worthy,
but the greater part beneath mediocrity, leaving the care of foreign
stories to foreign states, because I will not be curiosus in alicna
republicn, I cannot fail to represent to your majesty the unworthiness
of the history of England in the main continuance thereof, and the
partiality and obliquity of that of Scotland, in the latest and largest
author that I have seen ; supposing that it would be honour for your
majesty, and a work very memorable, if this island of Great Britain,
as it is now joined in monarchy for ages to come, so were joined in one
history for the times passed, after the manner of the sacred history, which
draweth down the story of the ten tribes, and of the two tribes, as
twins, together. And if it shall seem that the greatness of this work
may make it less exactly performed, there is an excellent period of a
much smaller compass of time, as to the story of England ; that is to
say, from the uniting of the roses to the uniting of the kingdoms : a
portion of time, wherein to my understanding, there hath been the
rarest varieties, that in like number of successions of any hereditary
monarchy hath been known : for it beginncth with the mixed adoption

150 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

of a crown by arms and title ; an entry by battle, an establishment
by marriage; and therefore times answerable, like waters after a tem
pest, full of working and swelling, though without extremity of storm :
but well passed through by the wisdom of the pilot, being one of the
most sufficient kings of all the number. Then followeth the reign of
a king, whose actions, howsoever conducted, had much intermixture
with the affairs of Europe, balancing and inclining them variably ; in
whose time also began that great alteration in the state ecclesiastical,
an action which seldom cometh upon the stage. Then the reign of
a minor : then an offer of an usurpation, though it was but as febris
ephemera : then the reign of a queen matched with a foreigner : then
of a queen that lived solitary and unmarried, and yet her government
so masculine, as it had greater impression and operation upon the
states abroad than it any ways received from thence. And now last,
this most happy and glorious event, that this island of Britain, divided
from all the world, should be united in itself: and that oracle of
rest, given to -/Eneas, " Antiquam exquirite matrem," should now be
performed and fulfilled upon the nations of England and Scotland,
being now reunited in the ancient mother name of Britain, as a full
period of all instability and peregrinations : so that as it cometh to
pass in massive bodies, that they have certain trepidations and waver
ings before they fix and settle ; so it seemeth that by the providence
of God this monarchy, before it was to settle in your majesty and your
generations, in which I hope it is now established for ever, it had
these prelusive changes and varieties.

For Lives; I do find strange that these times have so little
esteemed the virtues of the times, as that the writing of lives should
be no more frequent. For although there be not many sovereign
princes or absolute commanders, and that states are most collected
into monarchies, yet there are many worthy personages that deserve
better than dispersed report or barren elogics. For 1/erein the inven
tion of one of the late poets is proper, and doth well inrich the ancient
fiction : for he feigneth, that at the end of the thread or web of every
man's life there was a little medal containing the person's name, and
that Time waited upon the shears ; and as soon as the thread was cut,
caught the medals, and carried them to the river of Lethe ; and
about the bank there were many birds flying up and down, that
would get the medals, and carry them in their beak a little while,
and let them fall into the river : only there were a few swans,
which if they got a name, would carry it to a temple, where it was
consecrated.

And though many men, more mortal in their affections than in
their bodies, do esteem desire of name and mem(>ry but as a vanity
and ventosity,

Animi nil magn;u laudis egentes ;

which opinion cometh from the root, "non prius laudes contempsimus,
quam laudanda facere desivimus :" yet that will not alter Solomon's
judgment, "Memoria iusti cum laudibus, at impiorum nomen pu-

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. \ 5 1

trcscct :" the one flourishcth, the other either consumcth to present
oblivion, or turncth to an ill odour.

And therefore in that stile or addition, which is and hath been
long well received and brought in use, "fclicis memoria?, piaz mcmoria?,
borne memoria?," we do acknowledge that which Cicero saith, borrow
ing it from Demosthenes, that " bona fama propria posscssio dcs
functorum ;" which possession I cannot but note, that in our time it
lieth much waste, and that therein there is a deticicncc.

For Narrations and Relations of particular actions, there were also
to be wished a greater diligence therein ; common way, before we
come where the ways part, for there is no great action but hath some
good pen which attends it.

And because it is an ability not common to write a good history,
as may well appear by the small number of them ; yet if particularity
of actions memorable were but tolerably reported as they pass, tho
compiling of a complete history of times might be the better expected,
when a writer should arise that were fit for it ; for the collection ol
such relations might be as a nursery garden, whereby to plant a fai;
and stately garden, when time should serve.

There is yet another partition of history which Cornelius Tacitus
maketh, which is not to be forgotten, especially with that application
which heaccouplieth it withal, Annals and Jounui's: appropriating to
the former, matters of state ; and to the latter, acts and accidents of
a meaner nature. For giving but a touch to certain magnificent
buildings, he addeth, " Cum ex dignitatc populi Romani repcrtum sit,
res illustrcs annalibus, talia diurnis urbis actis mandare." So as there
is a contemplative kind of heraldry, as well as civil. And as nothing
doth derogate from the dignity of a state more than confusion ol
degrees ; so it doth not a little embase the authority of an history,
to intermingle matters of triumph, or matters of ceremony, or matters
of novelty, with matters of state. But the use of a journal hath not
only been in the history of time, but likewise in the history of persons,
and chiefly of actions ; for princes in ancient time had, upon point of
honour and policy both, journals kept, what passed day by day : for
tve see the chronicle which was read before Ahasuerus, when he could
not take rest, contained matters of affairs indeed, but such as had
passed in his own time, and very lately before: but the journal of
Alexander's house expressed every small particularity even concerning
his person and court ; and it is yet an use well received in enterprises
memorable, as expeditions of war, navigations, and the like, to keep
, of that which passcth continually.

I cannot likewise be ignorant of a form of writing, which some
grave and wise men have used, containing a scattered history of those
actions which they have thought worthy of memory, with politic dis
course and observation thereupon ; not incorporated into the history,
but separately, and as the more principal in their intention ; which
kind of ruminated history I think more fit to place amongst books
of policy, whereof we shall hereafter speak, than amongst books of
history : for it is the true office of history to represent the events

152 A D VANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

themselves together with the counsels, and to leave the observations
and conclusions thereupon to the liberty and faculty of every man's
judgment; but mixtures arc things irregular, whereof no man can define.
So also is there another kind of history manifoldly mixed, and that
is History of Cosmography, being compounded of natural history, in
respect of the regions themselves ; of history civil, in respect of the
habitations, regiments, and manners of the people ; and the mathe
matics, in respect of the climates and configurations towards the
heavens : which part of learning of all others, in this later time, hath
obtained most proficience. For it may be truly affirmed to the honour
of these times, and in a virtuous emulation with antiquity, that this
great building of the world had never thorough lights made in it, till
the age of us and our fathers : for although they had knowledge of
the antipodes,

Nosqtie ubi primus equis oriens afflavit annelid,
Illic sera rubens accendit lumina Vesper :

yet that might be by demonstration, and not in fact ; and if by travel,
it rcquireth the voyage but of half the globe. But to circle the earth,
as the heavenly bodies do, was not done or enterpriscd till these later
times: and therefore these times may justly bear in their word, not
only plus ultra in precedence of the ancient non it lira, and imitabiU
fulinen, in precedence of the ancient non imitabile fulmen.

Demens qui nimbos et non imitabile fulmen, etc.

but likewise imitabile calum: in respect of the iv any memorable
voyages, after the manner of heaven, about the globe of the earth.

And this proficience in navigation and discoveries may plant also
an expectation of the farther proficience and augmentation cf all
sciences ; because, it may seem, they are ordained by God to be
coevals, that is, to meet in one age. For so the prophet Daniel,
speaking of the latter times, foretellcth ; " Plurimi pertransibunt, ct
multiplex erit scicntia ;" as if the openness and thorough passage of the
world, and the increase of knowledge, were appointed to be in the sarue
ages, as we see it is already performed in great part ; the learning of
these latter times not much giving place to the former two periods or
returns of learning, the one of the Grecians, the other of the Romans.

HISTORY ecclesiastical receiveth the same divisions with history
civil ; but farther, in the propriety thereof, may be divided into the
History of the Church, by a general name; History of Prophecy ; and
History of Providence.

The first describeth the times of the militant Church, whether it bo
fluctuant, as the ark of Noah ; or moveable, as the ark in the
wilderness ; or at rest, as the ark in the temple ; that is, the state of th*5
Church in persecution, in remove, and in peace. This part I ought in
ho sort to note as deficient, only I would the virtue and sincerity of it
were according to the mass and quantity. But I am not now in hard
with censures, but with omissions.

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 153

The second, which is history of prophecy, consisteth of two
relatives, the prophecy, and the accomplishment ; and therefore the
n iture of such a work ought to be, that every prophecy of the Scrip-
lure be sorted with the event fulfilling the same, throughout the ages
of the world ; both for the better confirmation of faith, and for the
better illumination of the Church touching those parts of prophecies
which are yet unfulfilled : allowing nevertheless that latitude which is
agreeable and familiar unto divine prophecies, being of the nature of
their Author, with whom a thousand years are but as one day, and
therefore are not fulfilled punctually at once, but have springing and
gcrminant accomplishment throughout many ages; though the height
or fulness of them may refer to some one age.

This is a work which I find deficient, but is to be done with
wisdom, sobriety, and reverence, or not at all.

The third, which is history of providence, containeth that excellent
correspondence which is between God's revealed will and his secret
will : which though it be so obscure, as for the most part it is not
legible to the natural man ; no, nor many times to those that behold it
from the tabernacle ; yet at some times it pleaseth God, for our better
establishment, and the confuting of those which are as without God in
the world, to write it in such text and capital letters, that, as the
prophet saith, "he that runneth by may read it ;" that is, mere sensual
persons, which hasten by God's judgments, and never bend or fix their
cogitations upon them, are nevertheless in their passage and race
urged to discern it. .Such are the notable events and examples of
God's judgments, chastisements, deliverances and blessings : and this
is a work which hath passed through the labours of many, and
therefore I cannot present as omitted.

There are also other parts of learning which are Appendices to
history ; for all the exterior proceedings of man consist of words and
deeds ; whereof history doth properly receive and retain in memory the
deeds ; and if words, yet but as inducements and passages to deeds :
so are there other books and writings, which are appropriate to the
custody and receipt of words only, which likewise are of three sorts :
Orations, Letters, and Brief Speeches or Sayings.

Orations are pleadings, speeches of counsel, laudatives, in
vectives, apologies, reprehensions ; orations of formality or ceremony,
and the like.

Letters are according to all the variety of occasions, advertise
ments, advices, directions, propositions, petitions, commendatory,
cxpostulatory, satisfactory ; of compliment, of pleasure, of discourse,
and all other passages of action. And such as arc written from wise
men, are of all the words of man, in my judgment, the best ; for they
are more natural than orations and public speeches, and more ad
vised than conferences or present speeches. So again letters of affairs
from such as manage them or are privy to them, are of all others the
best instructions for history, and to a diligent reader the best
histories in themselves.

For Apophthegms, it is a great loss of that book of Caesar's ; for as

154 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

his history, and those few letters of his which we have, and those
apophthegms which were of his own, excel all men's else, so I suppose
would his collection of apophthegms, have done ; for as for those which
are collected by others, either I have no taste in such matters, or else
their choice hath not been happy. But upon these three kinds of
writings I do not insist, because I have no deficiencies to propound
concerning them.

Thus much therefore concerning History, which is that part of
learning which answereth to one of the cells, domiciles, or offices of
the mind of man, which is that of the Memory.

POESV is a part of learning in measure of words for the most part
restrained, but in all other points extremely licensed, and doth truly
refer to the imagination ; which being not tied to the laws of matter,
may at pleasure join that which nature hath severed, and sever that
which nature hath joined, and so make unlawful matches and divorces
of things, Pictoribus atque poetis, etc. It is taken in two senses, in
respect of words, or matter ; in the first sense, it is but a character of
stile, and belongeth to arts of speech, and is not pertinent for the
present : in the latter, it is, as hath been said, one of the principal
portions of learning, and is nothing else but feigned history, which
may be stiled as well in prose as in verse.

The use of this feigned history hath been to give some shadow of
satisfaction to the mind of man in those points wherein the nature of
things doth deny it, the world being in proportion inferior to the soul ;
by reason whereof there is, agreeable to the spirit of man, a move
ample greatness, a more exact goodness, and a more absolute variety,
than can be found in the nature of things. Therefore, because the
acts or events of true history have not that magnitude which satisfieth
the mind of man, poesy feigneth acts and events greater and more
heroical : because true history propoundeth the successes and issues of
actions not so agreeable to the merits of virtue and vice, therefore
poesy feigns them more just in retribution, and more according to
revealed providence : because true history reprcsenteth actions and
events more ordinary, and less interchanged ; therefore poesy cndueth
them with more rareness, and more unexpected and alternative
variations : so as it appeareth that poesy serveth and conferred1, to
magnanimity, morality, and to delectation. And therefore it was ever
thought to have some participation of divineness, because it doth raise
and erect the mind, by submitting the shows of things to the desiiec of
the mind ; whereas reason doth buckle and bow the mind unto the
nature of things.

And we see, that by these insinuations and congruities with man's
nature and pleasure, joined also with the agreement and consort it
hath with music, it hath had access and estimation in rude times an<l
barbarous regions, where other learning stood excluded.

The division of poesy, which is aptest in the propriety thereof, be
sides those divisions which are common unto it with history ; as feigned
chronicles, feigned lives, and the appendices of history, as feigned

II.] A D VANCEMENT OF LEARNING. r 5 5

epistles, feigned orations, and the rest, is into Poesy Narrative, Repre
sentative, and Allusive.

The Narrative is a mere imitation of history, with the excesses
before remembered, choosing for subject commonly wars and love ;
rarely state, and someiimcs pleasure and mirth.

Representative is as a visible history, and is an image of actions as if
they were present,as history is of actions in nature as theyarc,that is,past.

Allusive or parabolical, is a narration applied only to express some
special purpose or conceit; which latter kind of parabolical wisdom
was much more in use in the ancient times, as by the fables of ALsop,
and the brief sentences of the Seven, and the use of hieroglyphics, may
appear. And the cause was, for that it was then of necessity to express
any point of reason, which was more sharp or subtile than the vulgar,
in that manner, because men in those times wanted both variety of
examples and subtilty of conceit : and as hieroglyphics were before
letters, so parables were before arguments. And nevertheless now, and
at all times, they do retain much life and vigour, because reason can
not be so sensible nor examples so fit.

But there remaineth yet another use of poesy parabolical, opposite
to that which we last mentioned : for that tcndeth to demonstrate and
illustrate that which is taught or delivered, and this other to retire and
obscure it : that is, when the secrets and mysteries of religion, policy,
and philosophy arc involved in fables and parables.

Of this in divine poesy, we see the use is authorized. In heathen poesy,
we sec, the exposition of fables doth fall out sometimes with great felicity,
as in the fable that the giants being overthrown in their war against the
gods, the Earth their mother, in revenge thereof, brought forth Fame :

Illam Terra pnrens ira irritata deonim,

Extremnm. ut pcrhibent, Coeo Encelndoque sororem

I'rogcnuit.

Expounded, that when princes and monarchies have suppressed actual
and open rebels, then the malignity of people, which is the mother of
rebellion, cloth bring forth libels and slanders, and taxations of the
states, which is of the same kind with rebellion, but more feminine.
So in the fable, that the rest of the gods having conspired to bind Jupi
ter, Pallas called Briareus with his hundred hands to his aid : expounded,
that monarchies need not fear any curbing of their absoluteness by
mighty subjects, as long as by wisdom they keep the hearts of the people,
who will be sure to come in on their side. So in the fable, that Achilles
was brought up under Chiron the Centaur, who was part a man and
part a beast : expounded ingeniously, but corruptly by Machiavel, that
it bclongeth to the education and discipline of princes, to know as well
how to play the part of the lion in violence, and the fox in guile, as of
the man in virtue and justice.

Nevertheless in many the like encounters, I do rather think that
the fr.ble was first, and the exposition devised, than that the moral
was first, and thereupon the fable framed. For I find it was an ancient
vanity in Chrysippus, that troubled himself with great contention to

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

fasten the assertion of the Stoics upon the fictions of the ancient
poets ; but yet that all the fables and fictions of the poets were but
pleasure and not figure, I interpose no opinion.

Surely of those poets which are now extant, even Homer himself,
notwithstanding he was made a kind of Scripture by the latter schools
of the Grecians, yet I should without any difficulty pronounce, that his
fables had no such inwardness in his own meaning ; but what they
might have, upon a more original tradition, is not easy to affirm, for
he was not the inventor of many of them.

In this third part of learning, which is poesy, I can report no defi-
cience. For being as a plant that comcth of the lust of the earth, with
out a formal seed, it hath sprung up and spread abroad more than
any other kind : but to ascribe unto it that which is due, for the ex
pression of affections, passions, corruptions, and customs, we are
beholden to poets more than to the philosopher's works ; and for wit and
eloquence, not much less than to orators and harangues. But it is not good
to stay too long in the theatre. Let us now pass on to the judicial
place or palace of the mind, which we are to approach and view with
more reverence and attention.

THE knowledge of man is as the waters, some descending from
above, and some springing from beneath ; the one informed by the
light of nature, the other inspired by divine revelation.

The light of nature consisteth in the notions of the mind, and the
reports of the senses ; for as for knowledge which man receiveth by
teaching, it is cumulative, and not original, as in a water, that, besides
his own spring-head, is fed with other springs and streams. So then,
according to these two differing illuminations or originals, knowledge
is first of all divided into Divinity and Philosophy.

In philosophy, the contemplations of man do either penetrate unto
God, or are circumferred unto nature, or are reflected or reverted upon
himself. Out of which several inquiries there do arise three know
ledges, Divine philosophy, Natural philosophy, and Human philosophy
or humanity. For all things are marked and stamped with this triple
character, of the power of God, the difference of nature, and the use
of man. But because the distributions and partitions of knowledge
are not like several lines that meet in one angle, and so touch but in a
point ; but are like branches of a tree, that meet in a stem, which hath
a dimension and quantity of entireness and continuance, before it
come to discontinue and break itself into arms and boughs ; therefore
it is good, before we enter into the former distribution, to erect and
constitute one universal science, by the name of Philosophia prima,
primitive or summary philosophy, as the main and common way, before
we come where the ways part and divide themselves ; which science,
whether I should report as deficient or no, I stand doubtful.

For I find a certain rhapsody of natural theology, and of divers
parts of logic ; and of that other part of natural philosophy, which con-

eth the principles ; and of that other part of natural philosophy,
which concerncth the soul or spirit ; all these strangely commixed and

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 15?

confused : but being examined, is scemcth to me rather a depredation
of other sciences, advanced and exalted unto some height of terms,
than anything solid or substantive of itself.

Nevertheless I cannot be ignorant of the distinction which is current,
that the same things are handled but in several respects. As for
example, that logic considcrcth of many things as they are in notion ;
and this philosophy, as they arc in nature ; the one in appearance, the
other in existence : but I find this difference better made than pursued.
For if they had considered quantity, similitude, diversity, and the rest
of those external characters of things, as philosophers, and in nature ;
their inquiries must of force have been of a far other kind than they arc.

For doth any of them, in handling quantity, speak of the force of
union, how, and how far it multiplicth virtue? Doth any give the
reason, why some things in nature are so common and in so great
mass, and others so rare, and in so small quantity? Doth any, in
handling similitude and diversity, assign the cause why iron should
not move to iron, which is more like, but move to the loadstone, which
is less like ? Why, in all diversities of things, there should be certain
participles in nature, which are almost ambiguous, to which kind they
should be referred ? But there is a mere and deep silence touching
the nature and operation of those common adjuncts of things, as in
nature ; and only a resuming and repeating of the force and use of
them, in speech or argument.

Therefore because in a writing of this nature I avoid ail subtilty,
my meaning touching this original or universal philosophy is thus, in
:: plain and gross description by negative ; " That it be a receptacle
for all such profitable observations and axioms, as fall not within the
compass of any of the special parts of philosophy or sciences, but are
more common and of a higher stage."

Now that there are many of that kind, need not to be doubted.
For example : is not the rule, " Si imuqualibus a_'qualia addas, omnia
crunt inicqualia," an axiom as well of justice as of the mathematics?
And is there not a true coincidence between commutative and distri
butive justice, and arithmetical and geometrical proportion? Is not
that other rule, "Quas in codem tcrtio conveniunt, et inter sc conve-
niunt/' a rule taken from the mathematics, but so potent in logic, as
all syllogisms arc built upon it ? Is not the observation, " Omnia
mutantur, nil interit," a contemplation in philosophy thus, that the
quantum of nature is eternal ? in natural theology thus ; that it
rcquireth the same omnipotence to make somewhat nothing, which
at the first made nothing somewhat ? according to the Scripture,
" Didici quod omnia opera, qiue fecit Dcus, persevcrcnt in pcrpetuum;
non possumus cis quicquam addcrc, ncc auferre."

.Is not the ground, which Machiavel wisely and largely discourscth
concerning governments, that the way to establish and preserve them,
is to reduce them ad principia; a rule in religion and nature, as well
as in civil administration ? Was not the Persian magic a reduction or
correspondence of the principles and architectures of nature, to the
rules and policy of governments ? Is not the precept of a musician,

158 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

to fall from a discord or harsh accord upon a concord or sweet accord,
alike true in affection ? Is not the trope of music, to avoid or slide
from the close or cadence, common with the trope of rhetoric, of
deceiving expectation? Is not the delight of the quavering upon a
stop in music, the same with the playing of light upon tho water ?
Splendct trcmulo sub lumine pontus.

Are not the organs of the senses of one kind with the organs of reflec
tion, the eye with a glass, the ear with a cave or strait determined
and bounded ? Neither are these only similitudes, as men of narrow
observation may conceive them to be, but the same footsteps of nature,
treading or printing upon several subjects or matters.

This science therefore, as I understand it, I may justly report as
deficient ; for I see sometimes the profounder sort of wits, in handling
some particular argument, will now and then draw a bucket of water
out of this well for their present use ; but the springhead thereof
seemcth to me not to have been visited ; being of so excellent use,
both for the disclosing of nature, and the abridgment of art.

This science being therefore first placed as a common parent, like
unto Berecynthia, which had so much heavenly issue, " Omnes cceli-
colas, omnes supera alta tenentes," we may return to the former
distribution of the three philosophies, divine, natural, and human.

And as concerning divine philosophy, or Natural Theology, it is
that knowledge or rudiment of knowledge concerning God, which may
be obtained by the contemplation of his creatures ; which knowledge
may be truly termed divine, in respect of the object, and natural in
respect of the light.

The bounds of this knowledge are, that it sufficed! to convince
atheism, but not to inform religion : and therefore there was never
miracle wrought by God to convert an atheist, because the light of
nature might have led him to confess a God : but miracles have been
wrought to convert idolaters and the superstitious, because no light
of nature extended! to declare the will and true worship of God.

For as all works do show forth the power and skill of the workman,
and not his image, so it is of the works of God, which do show the
omnipotcncy and wisdom of the Maker, but not his image: and there
fore therein the heathen opinion differed! from the sacred truth ; for
they supposed the world to be the image of God, and man to be an
extract. or compendious image of the world ; but the Scriptures never
vouchsafe to attribute to the world that honour, as to be the image
of God, but only the work of his hands; neither do they speak of any
other image of God, but man : wherefore by the contemplation of
nature, to induce and enforce the acknowledgment of God, and to
demonstrate his power, providence, and goodness, is an excellent
argument, and hath been excellently handled by divers.

But on the other side, out of the contemplation of nature or ground

of human knowledges, to induce any verity or persuasion concerning

ie points of faith, is in my judgment not safe : " Da fidei, quas fidei

sum." For the heathen themselves conclude as much in that excellent

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 159

and divine fable of the golden chain ; " That men and gods were
not able to draw Jupiter down to the earth ; but contrariwise, Jupiter
was able to draw them up to heaven."

So as we ought not to attempt to draw clown or submit the
mysteries of God to our reason ; but contrariwise, to raise and
advance our reason to the divine truth. So as in this part of know
ledge, touching divine philosophy, I am so far from noting any
deficience, as I rather note an excess ; whercunto I have digressed,
because of the extreme prejudice which both religion and philosophy
hath received, and may receive, by being commixed together ; as that
which undoubtedly will make an heretical religion, and an imaginary
and fabulous philosophy.

Otherwise it is of the nature of angels and spirits, which is an
appendix of theology, both divine and natural, and is neither
inscrutable nor interdicted: for although the Scripture saith, "Lei
no man deceive you in sublime discourse touching the worship of
angels, pressing into that he knoweth not," etc., yet notwithstanding,
if you observe well that precept, it may appear thereby that there be
two things only forbidden, adoration of them, and opinion fantastical
of them, cither to extol them farther than appcrtaineth to the dcgreo
of a creature, or to extol a man's knowledge of them farther than he
hath ground. But the sober and grounded inquiry, which may arise
out of the passages of Holy Scriptures, or out of the gradations of
nature, is not restrained. So of degenerate and revolted spirits, the
conversing with them, or the employment of them, is prohibited, much
more any veneration towards them. But the contemplation or science
of their nature, their power, their illusions, either by Scripture or
reason, is a part of spiritual wisdom. For so the apostle saith, "We
arc not ignorant of his stratagems." And it is no more unlawful to
inquire the nature of evil spirits, than to inquire the force of poisons
in nature, or the nature of sin and vice in morality. But this part,
touching angels and spirits, I cannot note as deficient, for many have
occupied themselves in it : I may rather challenge it, in many of the
writers thereof, as fabulous and fantastical.

LEAVING therefore divine philosophy or natural theology, not
divinity, or inspired theology, which we reserve for the la:it of all, as
the haven and sabbath of all man's contemplations, we will now
proceed to Natural Philosophy.

If then it be true that Dcmocritus said, " That the truth of nature
licth hid in certain deep mines and caves:" and if it be true likewise,
that the alchemists do so much inculcate, that Vulcan is a second
nature, and imitatcth that dexterously and compendiously, which
nature workcth by ambages and length of time ; it were good to divide
natural philosophy into the mine and the furnace, and to make two
professions or occupations of natural philosophers, some to be pioneers,
and some smiths ; some to dig, and some to refine and hammer : and
surely I do best allow of a division of that kind, though in more familiar
and scholastics! terms : namely, that these be the two parts of natural

i6o ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Cool:

philosophy, the inquisition of causes, and the production of effects :
speculative and operative ; natural science, and natural prudence.

For as in civil matters there is a wisdom of discourse, and a wisdom
of direction ; so is it in natural. And here I will make a request, that
for the latter, or at least for a part thereof, I may revive and reintegrate
the misapplied and abused name of natural magic, which, in the trua
sense, is but natural wisdom, or natural prudence ; taken according to
the ancient acception, purged from vanity and superstition. _

Now although it be true, and I know it well, that there is an inter
course between causes and effects, so as both these knowledges,
speculative and operative, have a great connexion between themselves ;
yet because all true and fruitful natural philosophy hath a double scale
or ladder, ascendent and descendcnt ; ascending from expcrhricnts, to
the invention of causes ; and descending from causes, to the invention
of new experiments ; therefore I judge it most requisite that these two
parts be severally considered and handled.

Natural science, or theory, is divided into Physic and Mctaphysic ;
wherein I desire it may be conceived, that I use the word Metaphysic
in a differing sense from that that, is received : and, in like manner,
I doubt not but it will easily appear to men of judgment, that in this
and other particulars, wheresoever my conception and notion may
differ from the ancient, yet I am studious to keep the ancient terms.

For hoping well to deliver myself from mistaking, by the order and
perspicuous expressing of that I do propound ; I am otherwise zealous
and affectionate to recede as little from antiquity, either in terms or
opinions, as may stand with truth, and the profkience of knowledge.

And herein I cannot a little marvel at the philosopher Aristotle
that did proceed in such a spirit of difference and contradiction towards
all antiquity, undertaking not only to frame new words of science at
pleasure, but to confound and extinguish all ancient wisdom : insomuch
as he never nameth or mentioneth an ancient author or opinion, but to
confute and reprove ; wherein for glory, and drawing followers and
disciples, he took the right course.

For certainly there cometh to pass, and hath place in human truth,
that which was noted and pronounced in the highest truth, " Vcni in
nomine Patris, nee rccipitis me ; si quis venerit in nomine suo. cum
recipietis." But in this divine aphorism, considering to whom it was
applied, namely to Antichrist, the highest deceiver, we may discern
well, that the coming in a man's own name, without regard of antiquity
or paternity, is no good sign of truth, although it be joined with the
fortune and success of an " Eum recipietis."

But for this excellent person, Aristotle, I will think of him, that he
learned that humour of his scholar, with whom, it seemeth, he did
emulate, the one to conquer all opinions, as the other to conquer alJ
nations : wherein nevertheless, it may be, he may at some men's hands,
that are of a bitter disposition, get a like title as his scholar did.

Felix terrarum praedo, non utile mundo
Editus exemplum, etc.
So

Felix doctrinae prasdo.

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 161

But to me, on the other side, that do desire as much as lieth in my pen
to ground a sociable intercourse between antiquity and proficience, it
seemeth best to keep way with antiquity usque ad aras ; and therefore
to retain the ancient terms, though I sometimes alter the uses and
definitions ; according to the moderate proceeding in civil government,
where although there be some alteration, yet that holdeth which
Tacitus wisely noteth, " eadem magistratuum vocabula."

To return therefore to the use and acception of the term metaphysic,
as I do now understand the word ; it appeareth, by that which hath
been already said, that I intend////Aw////Vz/r////<f, summary philosophy,
and metaphys.c, which heretofore have been confounded as one, to be
two distinct things. For the one I have made as a parent, or common
ancestor, to all knowledge ; and the other I have now brought in, as a
branch, or descendent, of natural science. It appeareth likewise that
I have assigned to summary philosophy the common principles and
axioms which are promiscuous and indifferent to several sciences : I
have assigned unto it likewise the inquiry touching the operation of
the relative and adventivc characters of essences, as quantity, simili
tude, diversity, possibility, and the rest ; with this distinction and
provision ; that they be handled as they have efficacy in nature, and
not logically. It appeareth likewise, that natural theology, which
heretofore hath been handled confusedly with metaphysic, I have
inclosed and bounded by itself.

It is therefore now a question, what is left remaining for metaphysic ;
wherein I may without prejudice preserve thus much of the conceit of
antiquity, that physic should contemplate that which is inherent in
matter, and therefore transitory ; and metaphysic, that which is
abstracted and fixed.

And again, that phjsic should handle that which supposeth in
nature only a being and moving ; and metaphysic should handle that
which supposeth farther in nature a reason, understanding, and plat
form, liut the difference perspicuously expressed, is most familiar and
sensible.

For as we divided natural philosophy in general into the inquiry of
causes, and productions of effects ; so that part which concerncth the
inquiry of causes, we do subdivide according to the received and sound
division of causes ; the one part which is physic, inquireth and hancileth
the material and efficient causes ; and the other, which is metaphysic,
handleth the formal and final causes.

Physic, taking it according to the derivation, and not according to
our idiom for medicine, is situate in a middle term, or distance,
between natural history and metaphysic. For natural history describeth
the variety of things, physic the causes, but variable or respective
causes ; and metaphysic, has fixed and constant causes.

Limns ut hie durescit, et haec ut ccra quicscit,
Uno codemque igni.

Fire is the cause of induration, but respective to clay : fire is the cause
of colliquation, but respective to wax. But fire is no constant cause

it

,62 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

either of induration or colliquation : so then the physical causes are but
the efficient and the matter.

Physic hath three parts, whereof two respect nature united or
collected, the third contemplated! nature diffused or distributed.

Nature is collected either into one entire total, or else into the same
principles or seeds. So as the first doctrine is touching the contexture
or configuration of things, as de mttndo, de universitate rernm.

The second is the doctrine concerning the principles or originals of

* 111 HITS.

The third is the doctrine concerning all variety and particularity of
things ; whether it be of the differing substances, or their differing
qualities and natures ; whereof there needeth no enumeration, this
part being but as a gloss, or paraphrase, that attendeth upon the text
of natural history.

Of these three I cannot report any as deficient. In what truth or
perfection they are handled, I make not now any judgment : but they
are parts of knowledge not deserted by the labour of men.

For Metaphysic, we have assigned unto it the inquiry of formal and
final causes ; which assignation, as to the former of them, may seem
to be nugatory and void, because of the received and inveterate opinion,
that the inquisition of man is not competent to find out essential forms,
or true differences : of which opinion we will take this hold, that the
invention of forms is of all other parts of knowledge the worthiest to
be sought, if it be possible to be found.

As for the possibility, they are ill discoverers that think theie is no
land, when they can see nothing but sea.

But it is manifest, that Plato, in his opinion of ideas, as one that
had a wit of elevation situate as upon a cliff, did descry, " That forms
were the true object of knowledge ; " but lost the real fruit of his
opinion, by considering of forms as absolutely abstracted from matter,
and not confined and determined by matter ; and so turning his
opinion upon theology, wherewith all his natural philosophy is
infected.

But if any man shall keep a continual watchful and severe eye
upon action, operation, and the use of knowledge, he may advise and
take notice what arc the forms, the disclosures whereof are fruitful and
important to the state of man. For as to the forms of substances, man
only except, of whom it is said, " Formavit hominem de limo terrse, et
spiravit in faciem cjus spiraculum vita?," and not as of all other
creatures, " Producant aqua;-, producat terra;" the forms of sub
stances, I say, as they are now by compounding and transplanting
multiplied, are so perplexed, as they arc not to be inquired ; no more
than it were either possible or to purpose, to seek in gross the forms o{
those sounds which make words, which by composition and trans-
position of letters are infinite.

But, on the other side, to inquire the form of those sounds or voices,
which make simple letters, is easily comprehensible ; and being known,
induceth and manifesteth the forms of words, which consist and are
compounded of them. In the same manner to inquire the form of a

1 1. 1 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 163

lion, of an oak, of gold ; nay, of water, of air, is a vain pursuit : but to
inquire the forms of sense, of voluntary motion, of vegetation, of
colours, of gravity and levity, of density, of tenuity, of heat, of cold, and
all other natures and qu;i lilies, which, like an alphabet, arc not many,
and of which the essences, upheld by matter, of all creatures do
consist : to inquire, I say, the true forms of these, is that part of
metaphysic which we now define of.

Not but that physic doth make inquiry, and take consideration of
the same natures : but how? Only as to the material and efficient
causes of them, and not as to the forms. For example ; if the cause of
whiteness in snow or froth be inquired, and it be rendered thus ; that
the subtile intermixture of air and water is the cause, it is well
rendered ; but nevertheless, is this the form of whiteness ? No ; but it
is the efficient, which is ever but vchiculiun forma.

This part of metaphysic I do not find laboured and performed,
whereat I marvel not : because 1 hold it not possible to be invented
by that course of invention which hath been used, in'regard that men,
which is the root of all error, have made too untimely a departure, and
too remote a recess from particulars.

But the use of this part of metaphysic which I report as deficient,
is of the rest the most excellent in two respects : the one, because it is
the duty and virtue of all knowledge to abridge the infinity of indi
vidual experience, as much as the conception of truth will permit, and
to remedy the complaint of vita brcvis, ars longnj which is performed
by uniting the notions and conceptions of sciences : for knowledges
are as pyramids, whereof history is the basis. So of natural philo
sophy, the basis is natural history ; the stage next the basis is physic ;
the stage next the vertical point is metaphysic. As for the vertical
point, " Opus quod opcratur Deus a principle usque ad fincm," the
summary law of nature, we know not whether man's inquiry can attain
unto it. But these three be the true stages of knowledge, and are to
them that, arc depraved no better than the giants' hills.

Ter sunt connti imponere Pelio Ossam

Scilicet, atquc Ossic frondosum involverc Olympum.

But to those which refer all things to the glory of God, they are as
the three acclamations, Sancte, sancte, sancte ; holy in the description,
or dilatation of his works ; holy in the connexion or concatenation of
them ; aijd holy in the union of them in a perpetual and uniform law.

And therefore the speculation was excellent in Parmenidcs and
Plato, although but a speculation in them, that all things by scale did
ascend to unity. So then always that knowledge is worthiest, which
is charged with the least multiplicity ; which appcareth to be meta
physic, as that which considered! the simple forms or differences of
things, which arc few in number, and the degrees and co-ordinations
whereof make all this variety.

The second respect which valueth and conimcndcth this part of
metaphysic is, that it doth enfranchise the power of man unto the
greatest liberty and possibility of works and ctfects. For physic

i f>4 A D VANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Beck

carrieth men in narrow and restrained ways, subject to many accidents
of impediments, imitating the ordinary flexuous courses of nature ; but
" latas undique sunt sapientibus vice : " to sapience, which %yas
anciently denned to be "rerum divinarum et humanarum suentia,"
there is ever choice of means : for physical causes give light to new
invention in simili matcria. But whosoever knoweth any form,
knoweth the utmost possibility of super-inducing that nature upon any
variety of matter, and so is less restrained in operation, either to the
basis of the matter, or the condition of the efficient : which kind of
knowledge Solomon likewise, though in a more divine sense, elegantly
describeth : " Non arctabuntur gressus tui, et currens non habebis
offendiculum." The ways of sapience are not much liable cither to
particularity or chance.

The second part of metaphysic is the inquiry of final causes, which
I am moved to report, not as omitted, but as misplaced ; and yet if it
were but a fault in order, I would not speak of it : for order is matter
of illustration, but pertaineth not to the substance of sciences. But
this misplacing hath caused a deficience, or at least a great impro-
ficience in the sciences themselves. For the handling of final causes,
mixed with the rest in physical inquiries, hath intercepted the severe
and diligent inquiry of all real and physical causes, and given men the
occasion to stay upon these satisfactory and specious causes, to the
great arrest and prejudice of farther discovery.

For this I find done not only by Plato, who ever anchoreth upon
that shore, but by Aristotle, Galen, and others, which do usually like
wise fall upon these flats of discoursing causes. For to say that the
hairs of the eyelids are for a quickset and fence about the sight ; or,
that the firmness of the skins and hides of living creatures is to defend
them from the extremities of heat or cold ; or, that the bones are for
the columns or beams, whereupon the frame of the bodies of living
creatures are built ; or, that the leaves of trees are for the protecting of
the fruit ; or, that the clouds are for watering of the earth ; or, that the
solidness of the earth is for the station and mansion of living creatures,
and the like, is well inquired and collected in metaphysic ; but in
physic they are impertinent. Nay, they are indeed but remoras and
hinderances to stay and slug the ship from farther sailing, and have
brought this to pass, that the search of the physical causes hath been
iv.'glectcd, and passed in silence.

And therefore the natural philosophy of Democritus, and some
others, who did not suppose a mind or reason in the frame of things,
but attributed the form thereof, able to maintain itself, to infinite
essays or proofs cf nature, which they term fortune : seemeth to me,
as far as I can judge by the recital and fragments which remain unto
us, in particularities of physical causes, more real and better inquired
than that of Aristotle and Plato ; whereof both intermingled final
causes, the one as a part of theology, the other as a part of logic, which
were the favourite studies respectively of both those persons. Not
because those final causes are not true, and worthy to be inquired, being
kept within their own province; but because their excursions into th.o
74

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 165

limits ol physical causes hath bred a vastness and solitude in that track.
For, otherwise, keeping their precincts and borders, men are extremely
deceived if they think there is an enmity or repugnancy at all between
them. For the cause rendered, that the hairs about the eye-lids are
for the safeguard of the sight, doth not impugn the cause rendered,
'.hat pilosity is incident to orifices of moisture; Muscosi fnntes, etc.
Nor the cause rendered, that the firmness of hides is for the armour of
the body against extremities of heat or cold, doth not impugn the cause
rendered, that contraction of pores is incident to the outwardest parts,
in regard of their adjacencc to foreign or unlike bodies ; and so of the
rest : both causes being tnie and compatible, the one declaring an
intention, the other a consequence only.

Neither doth this call in question, or derogate from divine provi
dence, but highly confirm and exalt it. For as in civil actions he is
the greater and deeper politician, that can make other men the instru
ments of his will and ends, and yet never acquaint them with his pur
pose, so as they shall do it, and yet not know what they do ; than he
that imparteth his meaning to those he employcth : so is the wisdom
of God more admirable, when nature intendeth one thing, and provi
dence draweth forth another ; than if he had communicated to parti
cular creatures, and motions, the characters and impressions of his
providence. And thus much for metaphysics ; the latter part whereof
1 allow as extant, but wish it confined to its proper place.

Nevertheless there rcmuincth yet another part of natural philo
sophy, which is commonly made a principal part, and holdeth rank
with physic special, and metaphysic, which is mathematic ; but I think
it more agreeable to the nature of things, and to the light of order, to
place it as a branch of metaphysic : for the subject of it being quantity,
not quantity indefinite, which is but a relative, and belongeth to philo-
wphia prima, as hath been said, but quantity determined, or propor
tionable ; it appcarcth to be one of the essential forms of things ; as
th.it that is causative in nature of a number of effects : insomuch as
we see, in the schools both of Dcmocritus and Pythagoras, that the
one did ascribe Figure to the first seeds of things, and the other did
suppose Numbers to be the principles and originals of things ; and it
is true also, that of all other forms, as we understand forms, it is the
most abstracted and separable from matter, and therefore most proper
to metaphysic ; which hath likewise been the cause why it hath been
better laboured and inquired, than any of the other foims, which are
ttioro immersed into matter.

For it being the nature of the mind of man, to the extreme pre
judice of knowledge, to delight in the spacious liberty of generalities,
as in a champain region, and not in the inclosurcs of particularity ;
the mathematics of all other knowledge were the goodliest fields to
satisfy the appetite.

Hut for the placing of these sciences, it is not much material ; only
tvc have endeavoured, in these our partitions, to observe a kind of per
spective, that one part may cast light upon another

The Mat'.icmatics are either puie 01 mixed. To the pure mathc-

n

166 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

matics are those sciences belonging which handle quantity determi
nate, merely severed from any axioms of natural philosophy ; and
these are two, Geometry, and Arithmetic ; the one handling quantity
continued, and the other dissevered.

Mixed hath for subject some axioms or parts of natural philosophy
and considereth quantity determined, as it is auxiliary and incident
unto them.

For many parts of nature can neither be invented with sufficient
subtilty, nor demonstrated with sufficient perspicuity, nor accommo
dated unto use with sufficient dexterity, without the aid and inter
vening of the mathematics ; of which sort are perspective, music,
astronomy, cosmography, architecture, enginery, and divers others.

In the mathematics I can report no deficience, except it be that
men do not sufficiently understand the excellent use of the pure mathe
matics, in that they do remedy and cure many defects in the wit and
faculties intellectual. For, if the wit be dull, they sharpen it ; if too
wandering, they fix it ; if too inherent in the sense, they abstract it.
So that as tennis is a game of no use in itself, but of great use in
respect it maketha quick eye, and a body ready to put itself into all
postures ; so in the mathematics, that use which is collateral and inter-
venient, is no less worthy than that which is principal and intended.

And as for the mixed mathematics, I may only make this predic
tion, that there cannot fail to be more kinds of them as nature grows
further disclosed.

Thus much of natural science, or the part of nature speculative.

For Natural Prudence, or the part operative of natural philosophy,
we will divide it into three parts, experimental, philosophical, and
magical ; which three parts active have a correspondence and analogy
with the three parts speculative, natural history, physic, and meta-
physic ; for many operations have been invented sometimes by a
casual incidence and occurrence, sometimes by a purposed experiment ;
and of those which have been found by an intentional experiment,
some have been found out by varying or extending the same experi
ment, some by transferring and compounding divers experiments,
the one into the other, which kind of invention an empiric may
manage.

Again, by the knowledge of physical causes, there cannot fail to
follow many indications and designations of new particulars, if men in
their speculation will keep one eye upon use and practice. But these
are but coastings along the shore, premcndo littus iniqunm : for,
it scemeth to me, there can hardly be discovered any radical or funda
mental alterations and innovations in nature, either by the fortune
and essays of experiments, or by the light and direction of physical
causes.

If therefore we have reported metaphysic deficient, it must follow,
that we do the like of natural magic, which hath relation thereunto.
For as for the natural magic whereof now there is mention in books,
containing certain credulous and superstitious conceits and observa
tions of sympathies, and antipathies, and hidden proprieties, and some

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 167

frivolous experiments, strange rather by disguisement, than in them
selves : it is as far differing in truth of nature from such a knowledge
as we require, as the story of King Arthur of Britain, or Hugh of
Bourdeaux, differs from Caesar's commentaries in truth of story. For
it is manifest that Cicsar did greater things de vero, than those imagi
nary heroes were feigned to do ; but he did them not in that fabulous
manner. Of this kind of learning the fable of Ixion was a figure,
who designed to enjoy Juno, the goddess of power ; and instead of her
had copulation with a cloud, of which mixture were begotten centaurs
and chimeras.

So whosoever shall entertain high and vaporous imaginations,
instead of a laborious and sober inquiry of truth, shall beget hopes
and beliefs of strange and impossible shapes. And therefore we may
note in these sciences, which hold so much of imagination and belief,
as this degenerate natural magic, alchemy, astrology, and the like, that,
in their propositions, the description of the means is ever more
monstrous than t'nc pretence or end.

For it is a thing more probable, that he that knoweth well the
natures of weight, of colour, of pliant and fragile in respect of the
hammer, of volatile and fixed in respect of the tire, and the rest, may
superinduce upon some metal the nature and form of gold by such
mechanic as longcth to the production of the natures afore rehearsed,
•Jian that some grains of the medicine projected should in a few
moments of time turn a sea of quicksilver, or other material, into gold :
so it is more probable, that he, that knoweth the nature of arefaction,
the nature of assimilation, of nourishment to the thing nourished,
*he manner of increase and clearing of spirits, the manner of the
depredations which spirits make upon the humours and solid parts ;
shall, by ambages of diets, bathings, anointings, medicines, motions,
and the like, prolong life, or restore some degree of youth or vivacity,
than that it can be done with the use of a few drops, or scruples of a
liquor or receipt. To conclude therefore, the true natural magic,
which is that great liberty and latitude of operation which dcpcndeth
upon the knowledge of forms, I may report deficient, as the relative
thereof is ; to which part, if we be serious, and incline not to vanities
and plausible discourse, besides the deriving and deducing the opera
tions themselves from metaphysic, tncre are pertinent two points of
much purpose, the one by way of preparation, the other by way of
caution : the first is, that there be made a kalcndar resembling an
inventory of the estate of man, containing all the inventions, being the
works or fruits of nature or art, which arc now extant, and whereof
man is already possessed, out of which doth naturally result a notc^
what things are yet held impossible or not invented : which kalendar
will be the more artificial and serviceable, if to every reputed impossi
bility you add what thing is extant, which comcth the nearest in degree
to that impossibility ; to the end, that by these optatives and poten
tials man's inquiry may be the more awake in deducing direction o!
woiks from the speculation of causes ; and secondly, that those experi
ments be net only esteemed which have an immediate and present

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

use, but those principally which arc of most universal consequence for
invention of other experiments, and those which give most light to the
invention of causes : for the invention of the mariner's needle, which
giveth the direction, is of no less benefit for navigation, than the inven
tion of the sails, which give the motion.

Thus have I passed through natural philosophy, and the deficien
cies thereof, wherein if I have differed from the ancient and received
doctrines, and thereby shall move contradiction ; for my part as I
affect not to dissent, so I purpose not to contend. If it be truth,
Non canirr.us surdis, respondent omniasylvro :

the voice of nature will consent, whether the voice of man do or r»o,
And as Alexander Borgia was wont to say of the expedition of the
French for Naples, that they came with chalk in their hande to mark
up their lodgings, and not with weapons to fight : so I 1'ke better that
entry of truth, which cometh peaceably with chalk to mark up those
minds which arc capable to lodge and harbour it, than that which
cometh with pugnacity and contention.

But there rcmaineth a division of natural philosophy according to
the report of the inquiry, and nothing concerning the matter or subject ;
and that is positive and considerative ; when the inquiry reporleth
either an assertion, or a doubt. These doubts, or non liquets, aie of
two sorts, particular, and total. For the first, we see a good example
thereof in Aristotle's Problems, which deserved to have had a better con
tinuance ; but so nevertheless, as there is one point whereof warning is
to be given and taken. The registring of doubts hath two excellent
uses : the one, that it saveth philosophy from errors and falsehoods,
when that which is not fully appearing is not collected into assertion.
whereby error might draw error, but reserved in doubt. The other,
that the entry of doubts are as so many suckers or spur.gfrs to draw
use of knowledge ; insomuch, as that which, if doubts had nor. preceded,
a man should never have advised, but passed it over without note, by
the suggestion and solicitation of doubts is made to be attended and
applied. But both these commodities do scarcely countervail an in
convenience which will intrude itself, if not debarred ; which is, that.
when a doubt is once received, men labour rather how -.o keep it a
doubt still, than how to solve it, and accordingly bend their wits. Ol
this we sec the familiar example in lawyers and scholars, both which.
if they have once admitted a doubt, it goeth ever after authorized f»i
a doubt. But that use of wit and knowledge is to be allowed, which
labourcth to make doubtful things certain, and not those which labour to
make certain things doubtful. Therefore these kalendars of doubts I
commend as excellent things, so that there be this caution used, that when
they be thoroughly sifted and brought to resolution, they be from thence
forth omitted, discarded , and not continued to cherish and encouragement
in doubting. To which kalendar of doubts or problems, I advise to be
annexed another kalendar. as much or more material, which is a kalen-
clar of popular errors, I mean chiefly in natural history, such as pass
in speech and conceit, and are nevertheless detected and convicted of

II.] ADVANCEMENT OP LEARNING. 169

untruth, that man's knowledge be not weakened nor embascd by such
dross and vanity.

As for the doubts or iwn liquets general or in total, I understand
these differences of opinions touching the principles of nature, and the
fundamental points of the same, which have caused the diversity
of sects, schools, and philosophies, as that of Empcdocles, Pytha
goras, Democritus. Parmenides, and the rest. For although Aristotle,
as though he had been of the race of the Ottomans, thought he could
not reign, except the first thing he did he killed all his brethren ; yet
to those that seek truth and not magistrality, it cannot but seem a
matter of great profit, to see before them the several opinions touching
the foundations of nature : not for any exact truth that can be expected
in those theories : for as the same phenomena in astronomy arc satis
fied by the received astronomy of the diurnal motion and the proper
ir.otions of the planets, with their eccentrics, and epicycles ; and like
wise by the theory of Copernicus, who supposed the earth to move,
and liic calculations are indifferently agreeable to both : so the ordin
ary face and view of experience is many times satisfied by several
theories and philosophies ; whereas to 'find the real truth requircth
another manner of severity and attention. For, as Aristotle saith,
th'dt children at the first will call every woman mother, but afterwards
they come to distinguish according to truth : so experience, if it be
in childhood, will call every philosophy mother, but when it cometh to
ripeness it will discern the true mother ; so as in the mean-time it is good
to see the several glosses and opinions upon nature, whereof it may be
every one in some one point hath seen clearer than his fellows ; there
fore I wish some collection to be made painfully and understandingly
de antiquis philosophiis, out of all the possible light which remaincth
to us of them: which kind of work I find deficient. But here I must
give warning, that it be done distinctly and severally, the philosophies
of every one throughout by themselves, and not by titles packed and
fagotted up together, as hath been done by Plutarch. For it is the
harmony of a philosophy itself, which givcth it light and credence;
whereas if it be singled and broken, it will seem more foreign and
dissonant. For as when I read in Tacitus the actions of Nero or
Claudius, with circumstances of times, inducements and occasions, I
find them not so strange ; but when I read them in Suetonius Tran-
quillus, gathered into titles and bundles, and not in order of time
they seem more monstrous and incredible ; so it is of any philosophy
jceportcd entire, and dismembered by articles. Neither do I exclude
opinions of latter times to be likewise represented in this kalcndar cf
sects of philosophy, as that of Thcophrastus Paracelsus, eloquently
reduced into an harmony by the pen of Scvcrinus the Dane, and thai
of Tilesius, and his scholar Donius, being as a pastoral philosophy,
full of sense, but of no great depth : and that of Fracastorius, who
though he pretended not to make any new philosophy, yet did use the
absoluteness of his own sense upon the old : and that of Gilbcrtus, our
countryman, who revived, with some alterations and demonstrations, the
Opinions of Xenophanes : and any other worthy to be admitted.

r- ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

Thus have we now dealt with two of the three beams of man's
knowledge, that is Radius dinctus, which is referred to nature ;
Kaititts refractus, which is referred to God, and cannot report truly
because of the inequality of the medium ; there resteth Radius reflexvs,
whereby man bcholdeth and contemplateth himself.

WE come therefore now to that knowledge whereunto the ancient
oracle directcth us, which is the knowledge of ourselves ; which de-
servcth the more accurate handling, by how much it toucheth us more
nearly. This knowledge, as it is the end and term of natural philo
sophy in the intention of man, so, notwithstanding, it is but a portion
of natural philosophy in the continent of nature ; and generally let this
be a rule, that all partitions of knowledges be accepted rathei for lines
and veins, than for sections and separations ; and that the continuance
and entircness of knowledge be preserved. For the contrary hereof
hath made particular sciences to become barren, shallow, and erro
neous, while they have not been nourished arid maintained from, the
common fountain. So we see Cicero the orator complained of Socrates
and his school, that he was the first that separated philosophy and
rhetoric, whereupon rhetoric became an empty and verbal art." So v/e
may see, that the opinion of Copernicus touching the rotation of the
earth, which astronomy itself cannot correct, because it is not repug
nant to any of the phenomena, yet natural philosophy may correct.
So we sec also that the science of medicine, if it be destitute and for
saken by natural philosophy, it is not much better than an empirical
practice.

With this reservation therefore we proceed to Human Philosophy,
or humanity, which hath two parts : the one considereth s. man segre
gate or distributively ; the other congregate or in society. So as human
philosophy is either simple and particular, or conjugate and civil.
Humanity particular consisted! of the same parts whereof man con-
sisteth, that is, of knowledges which respect the body, and of know
ledges that respect the mind ; but before we distribute so far, it is good
to constitute. For I do take the consideration in general, and at large,
of human nature to be fit to be emancipated and made a knowledge
by itself ; not so much in regard to those delightful and elegant dis
courses which have been made of the dignity of man, of his miseries, of
his state and life, and the like adjuncts of his common and undivided
nature ; but chiefly in regard of the knowledge concerning the sym
pathies and concordances between the mind and body, which being
mixed, cannot be properly assigned to the sciences of either.

This knowledge hath two branches : for as all leagues and amities
consist of mutual intelligence and mutual offices, so this league of mind
and body hath these two parts, how the one discloseth the other, and
how the one worketh upon the other ; Discovery, and Impression.

The former of these hath begotten two arts, both of prediction or

prcnotion, whereof the one is honoured with the inquiry of Aristotle,

and the other of Hippocrates. And although they have of later time

>ecn used to be coupled with superstitious and fantastical arts, yet

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 171

being purged and restored to their true state, they have both of them
a solid ground in nature, and a profitable use in life. The first is
physiognomy, which discovereth the disposition of the mind by the
lineaments of the body. The second is the exposition of natural
dreams, which discovereth the state of the body by the imaginations
of the mind. In the former of these I note a deficience, for Aristotle
hath very ingeniously and diligently handled the factures of the body,
but not the gestures of the body, which are no less comprehensible by
art, and of greater use and advantage. For the lineaments of the
body do disclose the disposition and inclination of the mind in
general ; but the motions of the countenance and parts do not only so,
but do farther disclose the present humour and state of the mind and
will. For, as your majesty saith most aptly and elegantly, " As the
tongue spcaketh to the ear, so the gesture spcakcth to the eye." And
therefore a number of subtle persons, whose eyes do dwell upon the
faces and fashions of men, do well know the advantage of this observa
tion, as being most part of their ability ; neither can it be denied but
that it is a great discoverer of dissimulations, and a great direction in
business.

The latter branch, touching impression, hath not been collected
into art, but hath been handled dispersedly ; and it hath the same
relation or antistrophe that the former hath. For the consideration is
double ; " Either how, and how far the humours and effects of the body
do alter or work upon the mind ; or again, How, and how far the
passions or apprehensions of the mind do alter or work upon the body."
The former of these hath been inquired and considered, as a part and
appendix of medicine, but much more as a part of religion or super
stition ; for the physician prescribeth cures of the mind in frenzies
and melancholy passions, and pretendeth also to exhibit medicines to
exhilarate the mind, to confirm the courage, to clarify the wits, to corro
borate the memory, and the like : but the scruples and superstitions of
diet, and other regiment of the body, in the sect of the Pythagoreans,
in the heresy of the Manicheans, and in the law of Mahomet, do ex
ceed : so likewise the ordinances in the ceremonial law, interdicting
the eating of the blood and the fat, distinguishing between beasts clean
and unclean for meat, arc many and strict. Nay, the faith itself, being
clear and serene from all clouds of ceremony, yet retaineth the use of
fastings, abstinences, and other macerations and humiliations of the
body, as things real and not figurative. The root and life of all which
prescripts is, besides the ceremony, the consideration of that depen
dency which the affections of the mind are submitted unto upon the
state and disposition of the body. And if any man of weak judgment
do conceive, that this suffering of the mind from the body, doth either
question the immortality, or derogate from the sovereignty of the soul,
he may be taught in easy instances, that the infant in the mother's
womb is compatible with the mother, and yet separable : and the most
absolute monarch is sometimes led by his servants, and yet without
subjection. As for the reciprocal knowledge, which is the operation
of the conceits and passions of the mind upon the body ; we see all

i;2 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

wise physicians in their prescriptions of their regiments, to their patient:,
do ever consider acddentia aniini% as of great force to further or hinder
remedies, or recoveries ; and more especially it is an inquiry of great depth
and worth concerning imagination, how, and how far it alteieth the body
proper of the imaginant. For although it hath a manifest power to hurt,
it followethnot it hath the same degree of power to help ; no more than
a man can conclude, that because there be pestilent airs, able suddenly
to kill a man in health, therefore there should be sovereign airs, able
suddenly to cure a man in sickness. But the inquisition of this part
is of great use, though it needeth, as Socrates said, "a Delian diver,"
being difficult and profound. But unto all this knowledge de commnni
vi/iCH/0,ofthc concordances between the mind and the body, that part ot
inquiry is most necessary, which considered! of the seats and domiciles,
which the several faculties of the mind do take and occupate in the
organs of the body ; which knowledge hath been attempted, and is con
troverted, and deserveth to be much better inquired. For the opinion
of Plato, who placed the understanding in the brain, animosity (which
he did unfitly call anger, having a greater mixture with pride) in the
heart, and concupiscence or sensuality in the liver, deserveth not to be
despised, but much less to be allowed. So then we have constituted,
as in our own wish and advice, the inquiry touching human nature
entire, as a just portion of knowledge to be handled apart.

The knowledge that concerneth man's Body, is divided as the
good of man's body is divided, unto which it referreth. The good
of man's body is of four kinds, health, beauty, strength, and pleasure :
so the knowledges are medicine, or art of cure ; art of decoration,
which is called cosmetic ; art of activity, which is called athletic ; and
art voluptuary, which Tacitus truly calleth "eruditus luxus." This
subject of man's body is of all other things in nature most susceptible
of remedy ; but then that remedy is most susceptible of error. For
the same subtility of the subject doth cause large possibility, and easy
failing ; and therefore the inquiry ought to be the more exact.

To speak therefore of medicine, and \~> resume that we rave said,
ascending a little higher ; the ancient opinion that man was micro-
cosmns, an abstract or model of the world, hath been fantastically
strained by Paracelsus and the alchemists, as if there were to be found
in man's body certain correspondences and parallels, which should
have respect to all varieties of things, as stars, planets, minerals, which
are extant in the great world. But thus much is evidently true, that
of all substances which nature hath produced, man's body is the most
extremely compounded : For we see herbs and plants are nourished
by earth and water ; beasts for the most part by herbs and fruits ;
man by the flesh of beasts, birds, fishes, herbs, grains, fruits, water,
and the manifold alterations, dressings, and preparations of these
several bodies, before they come to be his food and aliment. Add
hereunto, that beasts have a more simple order of life, and Ices change
of affections to work upon their bodies ; whereas man, in his mansion,
sleep, exercise, passions, hath infinite variations ; and it cannot be
denied, but that the body of man of all other things ;s of the most

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 17 j

compounded mass. The soul on the other side is the simplest of
substances, as i? well expressed :

Purumque rcliquit
iEthcreum scnsum, atque aurai simplicis ignem.

So thru it is no marvel though the soul so placed enjoy no rest, if that
principle be true, that " Motus rerum cst rapidus extra locum, placidus
in loco." But to the purpose : this variable composition of man's
body hath made it as an instrument easy to distemper, and therefore
the poets did well to conjoin music and medicine in Apollo, because
the office of medicine is but to tune this curious harp of man's body,
and to reduce it to harmony. So then the subject being so variable,
hath made the art by consequence more conjectural ; and the art
being conjectural, hath made so much the more place to be left for
imposture. For almost all other arts and sciences arc judged by
acts or master pieces, as 1 may term them, and not by the successes
and events The lawyer is judged by the virtue of his pleading, and
not by the issue of the cause. The master of the ship is judged by
the directing his course aright, and not by the fortune of the voyage.
But the physician, and perhaps the politician, hath no particular acts
demonstrative of his ability, but is judged most by the event ; which
is ever but as it is taken : for who can tell, if a patient die or recover,
or if a state be preserved or ruined, whether it be art or accident ?
And therefore many times the impostor is prized, and the man of
virtue taxed. Nay, we see the weakness and credulity of men is such,
as they will often prefer a mountebank or witch before a learned
physician. And therefore the poets were clear-sighted in discerning
this extreme folly, when they made /Esculapius and Circe brother and
sister, both children of the sun, as in the verses ; ALn. vii. 772.

Ipsc repertorcm mcdicinae talis ct artis

Fulmiac I'hu:b!i,criam Siygias detrusit ad undas :

Ar.d ajjain.

Dives inacccssos uti Solis filia lucos, etc. StLn vii. ir.

For in a!l times, :.n the opinion of the multitude, witches, and old
women, and impcctors, have had a competition with physicians. And
what follovvcth ? Even this ; that physicians say to themselves, as
Solomon exprcsscth it upon an higher occasion ; " If it bcf.il to me,
as befalieth to the fools, why should I labour to be more wise?" And
therefore I cannot much blame physicians, that they use commonly
to intend some other art or practice, which they f.incy more than,
their profession. For you shall have of them, antiquaries, poets,
humanists, statesmen, merchants, divines, and in every of these better
seen thin in their profession ; and no doubt, upon this ground, that
they find that mediocrity and excellency in their art makcth no dif
ference in profit or reputation towards their fortune; for the weakness
of patitnts, and sweetness of life, and nature of hope, maketh men
<j£f>cnd on physicians with all their defects. But, nevertheless, these

1 74 ADVA NCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

things, which we have spoken of, are courses begotten between a little
occasion, and a great deal of sloth and default ; for if we will excite
and awake our observation, we shall see, in familiar instances, what
a predominant faculty the subtilty of spirit hath over the variety of
matter or form ; nothing more variable than faces and countenances,
yet men can bear in memory the infinite distinctions of them ; nay, a
painter with a few shells of colours, and the benefit of his eye, and
habit of his imagination, can imitate them all that ever have been,
are, or may be, if they were brought before him. Nothing more
variable than voices, yet men can likewise discern them personally ;
nay, you shall have a buffoon, or pantomimus, will express as many
as he pleaseth. Nothing more variable than the differing sounds of
words, yet men have found the way to reduce them to a few simple
letters. So that it is not the insufficiency or incapacity of man's mind,
but it is the remote standing or placing thereof, that breedcth these
mazes and incomprehensions : for as the sense afar off is full of mis
taking, but is exact at hand, so it is of understanding ; the remedy
whereof is not to quicken or strengthen the organ, but to go nearer
to the object ; and therefore there is no doubt, but if the physicians
will learn and use the true approaches and avenues of nature, they
may assume as much as the poet saith :

Et quoniam variant morbi, varibimus artes :
Mille niali species, mille salutis erunt.

Which that they should do, the nobleness of their art doth deserve,
well shadowed by the poets, in that they made yEsculapius to be the
son of the Sun, the one being the fountain of life, the other as the
second stream ; but infinitely more honoured by the example of our
Saviour, who made the body of man the object of his miracles, as the
soul was the object of his doctrine. For we read not that ever he
vouchsafed to do any miracle about honour or money, except that one
for giving tribute to Ccesar, but only about the preserving, sustaining,
and healing the body of man.

Medicine is a science which hath been, as we have said, more
professed than laboured, and yet more laboured than advanced ; the
labour having been, in my judgment, rather in circle than in pro
gression. For I find much iteration, but small addition. It con-
sidereth the causes of diseases, with the occasions or impulsions ; the
diseases themselves, with the accidents ; and the cures, with the
preservations. The deficiences which I think good to note, being a
few of many, and those such as are of a more open and manifest
nature, I will enumerate and not place.

The first is the discontinuance of the ancient and serious diligence
of Hippocrates, which used to set down a narrative of the special cases
of his patients, and how they proceeded, and how they were judged by
recovery or death. Therefore having an example proper in the father
of the art, I shall not need to allege an example foreign, of the wisdom
of the lawyers, who are careful to report new cases and decisions for
the direction of future judgments. This continuance of Medicinal

II.l ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 175

History I find deficient, which I understand neither to be so infinite
as to extend to every common case, nor so reserved, as to admit none
but wonders ; for many things are new in the manner, which are not
new in the kind ; and if men will intend to observe, they shall find
much worthy to observe.

In the inquiry which is made by anatomy, I find much deficicnce :
for they inquire of the parts, and their substances, figures, and collo
cations ; but they inquire not of the diversities of the parts, the
secrecies of the passages, and the seats or nestlings of the humours,
nor much of the footsteps and impressions of diseases; the reason of
which omission I suppose to be, because the first inquiry may be
satisfied in the view of one or a few anatomies ; but the latter, being
comparative and casual, must arise from the view of many. And as
to the diversity of parts, there is no doubt but the facture or framing
of the inward parts is as full of difference as the outward, and in that
is the cause continent of many diseases, which not being observed, they
quarrel many times with the humours, which arc not in fault, the fault
being in the very frame and mechanic of the part, which cannot be
removed by medicine alterative, but must be accommodated and
palliated by diets and medicines familiar. And for the passages and
pores, it is true, which was anciently noted, that the more subtile of
them appear not in anatomies, because they are shut and latent in
dead bodies, though they be open and manifest in life : which being
supposed, though the inhumanity of anatomiavii'orum was by Cclsus
justly approved ; yet in regard of the great use of this observation, the
inquiry needed not by him so slightly to have been relinquished
altogether, or referred to the casual practices of surgery, but might
have been well diverted upon dissection of beasts alive, which, not
withstanding the dissimilitude of their parts, may sufficiently satisfy
this inquiry. And for the humours, they are commonly passed over in
anatomies as purgaments, whereas it is most necessary to observe,
what cavities, nests, and receptacles the humours do find in the parts,
with the differing kind of the humour so lodged and received. And as
for the footsteps of diseases, and their devastations of the inward parts,
impostumations, exulcerations, discontinuations, putrefactions, con
sumptions, contractions, extensions, convulsions, dislocations, obstruc
tions, repletions, together with all preternatural substances, as stones,
carnosities, excrescences, worms, and the like; they ought to have
been exactly observed by multitude of anatomies, and the contribution
of men's several experiences, and carefully set down, both historically,
according to the appearances, and artificially, with a reference to the
diseases and symptoms which resulted from them, in case where the
anatomy is of a defunct patient : whereas now, upon opening of bodies,
they are passed over slightly and in silence.

In the inquiry'kof diseases they do abandon the cures of many, some
as in their nature incurable, and others as past the period of cure ; so
that Sylla and the triumvirs never proscribed so many men to die, as
they do by their ignorant edicts, whereof numbers do escape with less
difficulty, then they did in the Roman proscriptions. Therefore I will

176 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

not doubt to note as a deficience, that they inquire not the perfect cures
of many diseases, or extremities of diseases, but pronouncing them
incurable, do enact a law of neglect, and exempt ignorance from dis
credit.

Nay farther, I esteem it the office of a physician not only to restore
health, but to mitigate pain and dolors, and not only when such
mitigation may conduce to recovery, but when it may serve to make a
fair and easy passage : for it is no small felicity which Augustus Caesar
was wont to wish to himself, that same euthanasia, and which was
specially noted in the death of Antoninus Pius, whose death was after
the fashion and semblance of a kindly and pleasant sleep. So it is
written of Epicurus, that after his disease was judged desperate, he
drowned his stomach and senses with a large draught and ingurgitation
of wine ; whereupon the epigram was made, "Hinc Stygias ebrius
hausit aquas : " he was not sober enough to taste any bitterness of the
Stygian water. But the physicians, contrariwise, do make a kind of
scruple and religion to stay with the patient after the disease is
deplored ; whereas, in my judgment, they ought both to inquire the
skill, and to give the attendances for the facilitating and asswaging of
the pain and agonies of death.

In the consideration of the cures of diseases, I find a deficience in
the receipts of propriety, respecting the particular cures of diseases :
for the physicians have frustrated the fruit of tradition and experience
by their magistralities, in adding, and taking out, and changing quid
pro quo, in their receipts, at their pleasures, commanding so over the
medicine, as the medicine cannot command over the disease ; for
except it be treacle, and Mithridalum, and of late diascordium, and a
few more, they tic themselves to no receipts severely and religiously :
for as to the confections of sale which are in the shops, they are for
readiness, and not for propriety ; for they are upon general intentions
of purging, opening, comforting, altering, and not much appropriated
to particular diseases ; and this is the cause why empirics and old
women are more happy many times in their cures thau learned
physicians, because they are more religious in holding their medicines.
Therefore here is the deficience which I find, that physicians have not,
partly out of their own practice, partly out of the constant probations
reported in books, and partly out of the traditions of empirics, set down
and delivered over certain experimental medicines for the cure of par
ticular diseases, besides their own conjectural and magistral de
scriptions. For as they were the men of the best composition in the
state of Rome, which either being consuls inclined to the people, or
being tribunes inclined to the senate ; so in the matter we now
handle, they be the best physicians, which being learned, incline to the
traditions of experience, or being empirics, incline to the methods of
learning.

In preparation of medicines, I do find strange, especially, con
sidering how mineral medicines have been extolled, and that they are
safer for the outward than inward parts, that no man hath sought to
make an imitation by art of natural baths, and medicinable fountains,

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 17?

which nevertheless are confessed to receive their virtues from mine
rals ; and not so only, but discerned and distinguished from what
particular mineral they receive tincture, as sulphur, vitriol, steel, or the
like ; which nature, it it may be reduced to compositions of art, both
the variety of them will be increased, and the temper of them will
be more commanded.

But lest I grow to be more particular than is agreeable, either to
my intention or to proportion ; 1 will conclude this part with the note
of one deficicnce more, which sccmeth to me of greatest consequence ;
which is, that the prescripts in use arc too compendious to attain their
end ; for to my understanding, it is a vain and flattering opinion to
think any medicine can be so sovereign, or so happy, as that the
receipt or use of it can work any great effect upon the body of man : it
were a strange speech, which spoken, or spoken oft, should reclaim a
man from a vice to which he were by nature subject ; it is order,
pursuit, sequence, and interchange of application, which is mighty in
nature : which although it require more exact knowledge in prescribing,
and more precise obedience in observing, yet is recompensed with the
magnitude of effects. And although a man would think by the daily
visitations of the physicians, that there were a pursuance in the cure ;
yet let a man look into their prescripts and ministrations, and he shall
find them but inconstancies, and every day's devices, without any
settled providence or project ; not that every scrupulous or superstitious
prescript is effectual, no more than every strait way is the way to
heaven, but the truth of the direction must precede severity ol
observance.

For Cosmetic, it hath parts civil, and parts effeminate : for clean
ness of body was ever esteemed to proceed from a due reverence to
God, to society, and to ourselves. As for artificial decoration, it is
well worthy of the deficiences which it hath ; being neither fine enough
to deceive, nor handsome to use, nor wholesome to please.

For Athletic, I take the subject of it largely, that is to say, for any
point of ability, whcrcunto the body of man may be brought, whethci
it be of activity, or of patience ; whereof activity hath two parts
strength and swiftness : and patience likewise hath two parts, hard
ness against wants and extremities, and indurance of pain and torment,
whereof we see the practices in tumblers, in savages, and in those that
suffer punishment : nay, if there be any other faculty which falls not
within any of the former divisions, as in those that dive, that obtain a
strange power of containing respiration, and the like, I refer it to this
part. Of these things the practices are known, but the philosophy that
conccrncth them is not much inquired ; the rather, I think, because
they are supposed to be obtained, cither by an aptness of nature, which
cannot "be taught, or only by continual custom, which is soon pre
scribed ; which though it be not true, yet I forbear to note any
d( ii« icnces, for the Olympian games arc down long since, and the
mediocrity of these things is for use ; as for the excellency of them, it
scrvcth for the most part but for mercenary ostentation.

For arts of Pleasure sensual, the chief dcticicncc in them is of lawi

1 73 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

to repress them. For as it hath been well observed, that the arts
which flourish in times while virtue is in growth, are military, and
while virtue is in state, are liberal, and while virtue is in declination,
are voluptuary ; so I doubt, that this age of the world is somewhat
upon the descent of the wheel. With arts voluptuary I couple
practices jocular ; for the deceiving of the senses is one of the pleasures
of the senses. As for games of recreation, I hold them to belong to
civil life and education. And thus much of that particular human
philosophy which concerns the body, which is but the tabernacle
of the mind.

FOR Human Knowledge, which concerns the Mind, it hath two
parts, the one that inquireth of the substance or nature of the soul or
mind ; the other that inquireth of the faculties or functions thereof.

Unto the first of these, the considerations of the original of the
soul, whether it be native or advcntive, and how far it is exempted
from laws of matter, and of the immortality thereof, and many other
points, do appertain ; which have been not more laboriously inquired
than variously reported ; so as the travel therein taken, seemeth to
have been rather in a maze than in a way. But although I am of
opinion, that this knowledge may be more really and soundly inquired
even in nature than it hath been ; yet I hold, that in the end it must be
bounded by religion, or else it will be subject to deceit and delusion :
for as the substance of the soul in the creation was not extracted out
of the mass of heaven and earth, by the benediction of a producat, but
was immediately inspired from God; so it is not possible that it should
be, otherwise than by accident, subject to the laws of heaven and earth,
which are the subject of philosophy ; and therefore the true knowledge
of the nature, and state of the soul, must come by the same inspiration
that gave the substance. Unto this part of knowledge touching the
soul there be two appendixes, which, as they have been handled, have
rather vapoured forth fables than kindled truth, divination, and
fascination.

Divination hath been anciently and fitly divided into artificial, and
natural ; whereof artificial is, when the mind makcth a prediction by
argument, concluding upon signs and tokens : natural is, when the
mind hath a presentation by an internal power, without the induce
ment of a sign. Artificial is of two sorts, either when the argument is
coupled with a derivation of causes, which is rational ; or when it is
only grounded upon a coincidence of the effect, which is experimental ;
whereof the latter for the most part is superstitious : such as were the
heathen observations upon the inspection of sacrifices, the flights of
birds, the swarming of bees, and such as was the Chaldean astrology,
and the like. For artificial divination, the several kinds thereof are
distributed amongst particular knowledges. The astronomer hath his
predictions, as of conjunctions, aspects, eclipses, and the like. The
physician hath his predictions, of death, of recovery, of the accidents-
and issues of diseases. The politician hath his predictions ; " O
urbem venalem, et cito perituram, si emptorem invenerit ! " which

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 179

stayed not long to be performed in Sylla first, and after in Ca?sar ; so
as these predictions are now impertinent, and to be referred over.
But the divination which springcth from the internal nature of the
soul, is that which we now speak of, uhich hath been made to be of
two sorts, primitive, and by influxion. Primitive is grounded upon the
supposition, that the mind, when it is withdrawn and collected into
itself, and not diffused into the organs of the body, hath some extent
and latitude of prenotion, which therefore appeareth most in sleep, in
extasics, and near death, and more rarely in waking apprehensions ;
and is induced and furthered by those abstinences and observances
which make the mind most to consist in itself. By influxion, is
grounded upon the conceit that the mind, as a mirror or glass, should
take illumination from the foreknowledge of God and spirits : unto
which the same regiment doth likewise conduce. For the retiring of
the mind within itself, is the state which is most susceptible of divine
inrluxions, save that it is accompanied in this case with a fervency and
elevation, which the ancients noted by fury, and not with a repose and
quiet, as it is in the other.

Fascination is the power and act of imagination more intensive
upon other bodies than the body of the imaginant : for of that we
speak in the proper place ; wherein the school of Paracelsus, and the
disciples of pretended natural magic, have been so intemperate, as
they have exalted the power of the imagination to be much one with
the power of miracle-working faith : others, that draw nearer to
probability, calling to their view the secret passages of things, and
especially of the contagion that passeth from body to body, do con
ceive it should likewise be agreeable to nature, that there should be
some transmissions and operations from spirit to spirit without the
mediation of the senses : whence the conceits have grown, now almost
made civil, of the mastering spirit, and the force of confidence, and the
like. Incident unto this is the inquiry how to raise and fortify the
imagination ; for if the imagination fortified have power, then it is
material to know how to fortify and exalt it. And herein comes in
crookedly and dangerously, a palliation of a great part of ceremonial
magic. For it may be pretended, that ceremonies, characters, and
charms, do work, not by any tacit or sacramental contract with evil
spirits, but serve only to strengthen the imagination of him that useth
it ; as images arc said by the Roman church to fix the cogitations, and
raise the devotions of them that pray before them. But for mine own
judgment, if it be admitted that imagination hath power, and that
ceremonies fortify imagination, and that they be used sincerely and
intentionally for that purpose ; yet I should hold them unlawful, as
opposing to that first edict which God gave unto man, " In sudore
vultus comedes panem tuum." For they propound those noble effects,
which God hath set forth unto man to be bought at the price of labour,
to be attained by a few easy and slothful observances. Deficiencies
in these knowledges I will report none, other than .the general de-
ficience, that it is not known how much of them is verity, and how
much vanity.

iSo ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Eook

The knowledge which respecteth the faculities of the mind of
man, is of two 'kinds ; the one respecting his understanding and
reason, and the other his will, appetite, and affection ; whereof the
former produceth direction or decree, the latter action or execution.
It is true that the imagination is an agent or nuncius in both pro
vinces, both the judicial and the ministerial. For sense sendeth over
to imagination before reason have judged, and reason sendeth over
to imagination before the decree can be acted : for imagination ever
precedeth voluntary motion, saving that this Janus of imagination
hath differing faces ; for the face towards reason hath the print of
truth, but the face towards action hath the print of good, which never
theless are faces,

Quales dccet esse sororum;

Neither is the imagination simply and only a messenger, but is in
vested with, or at leastwise ursurpeth no small authority in itself,
besides the duty of the message. For it was well said by Aristotle,
" That the mind hath over the body that commandment,' which the
lord hath over a bondman ; but that reason hath over the imagination
that commandment, which a magistrate hath over a free citizen," who
may come also to rule in his turn. For we see that, in matters of
faith and religion, we raise our imagination above our reason, which is
the cause why religion sought ever access to the mind by similitudes,
types, parables, visions, dreams. And again, in all persuasions, that
are wrought by eloquence, and other impressions of like nature, which
do paint and disguise the true appearance of things, the chief recom
mendation unto reason is from the imagination. Nevertheless,
because I find not any science that doth properly or fitly pertain to
the imagination, I see no cause to alter the former division. For as
for poesy, it is rather pleasure, or play of imagination, than a work or
duty thereof. And if it be a work, we speak not now of such parts cf
learning as the imagination produceth, out of such sciences as handle
and consider of the imagination ; no more than we shall speak now of
such knowledges as reason produceth, for that extendcth to all philo
sophy, but of such knowledges as do handle and inquire of the faculty
of reason ; so as poesy had its true place. As for the power of the
imagination in nature, and the manner of fortifying the same, we have
mentioned it in the doctrine " De anima," whereunto most fitly it
belongeth : and lastly for imaginative or insinuative reason, which is
the subject of rhetoric, we think it best to refer it to the arts of reason.
So therefore we content ourselves with the former division, that
Human Philosophy, which respecteth the faculties of the mind of man,
hath two parts, Rational and Moral.

The part of Human Philosophy which is rational, is of all know
ledges, to the most wits, the least delightful, and scemeth but a net of
subtilty and spinosity : for as it was truly said, that knowledge is
" pabulum animi ; " so in the nature of men's appetite to this food,
most men are of the taste and stomach of the Israelites in the desert,
that would fain have returned "ad ollas carnium," and were weary of

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 181

manna ; which though it were celestial, yet seemed less nutritive and
comfortable. So generally men taste well knowledges that are
drenched in flesh and blood, civil history, morality, policy, about the
which men's affections, praises, fortunes, do turn and are conversant ;
but this same "lumen siccum" doth parch and offend most men's
watery and soft natures. But to speak truly of things as they arc in
worth, "rational knowledges" are the keys of all other arts; for as
Aristotle saith aptly and elegantly, " that the hand is the instrument
of instruments, and the mind is the form of forms ;" 59 these be truly
said to be the art of arts ; neither do they only direct, but likewise
confirm and strengthen : even as the habit of shooting doth not only
enable to shoot a nearer shoot, but also to draw a stronger bow.

The arts intellectual are four in number, divided according to the
ends whcreunto they are referred ; for man's labour is to invent that
which is sought or propounded ; or to judge that which is invented ;
or to retain that which is judged ; or to deliver over that which is
retained. So as the arts must be four ; art of inquiry or inven
tion ; art of examination or judgment ; art of custody or memory ; and
art of elocution or tradition.

Invention is of two kinds, much differing ; the one of arts and
sciences, and the other of speech and arguments. The former of
these I do report deficient ; which seemcth to me to be such a dcfi-
cicnce, as if in the making of an inventory, touching the state of a
defunct, it should be set down, that there is no ready money. For as
money will fetch all other commodities, so this knowledge is that which
should purchase all the rest. And like as the West Indies had never
been discovered, if the use of the mariner's needle had not been first
discovered, though the one be vast regions, and the other a small
motion; so it cannot be found strange, if sciences be no farther dis
covered, if the art itself of invention and discovery hath been passed over.

That this part of knowledge is wanting, to my judgment, standcth
plainly confessed : for first, logic doth not pretend to invent sciences,
or the axioms of sciences, but passeth it over with a cniqnc in sun arle
credcndum. And Celsus acknowledged! it gravely, speaking of the
empirical and dogmatical sects of physicians, "That medicines and
cures were first found out, and then after the reasons and causes were
discoursed ; and not the causes first found out, and by light from them
the medicines and cures discovered." And Plato, in his Tlieertetns^
notcth well, " That particulars arc infinite, and the higher generalities
give no sufficient direction ; and that the pith of all sciences, which
maketh the artsman differ from the inexpert, is in the middle propo
sitions, which in every particular knowledge are taken from tradition
and experience." And therefore we see, that they which discourse of
the inventions and originals of things, refer them rather to chance
than to art, and rather to beasts, birds, fishes, serpents, than to men.

Dictamnum genctrix Crctoea carpit ab Ida,
Fubenbus caulem foliis, ct flore comantem
L'urpurco : non ilia feris incognita capiis,
amina cum tcrgo volucres hxscrc sagitUB.

182 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

So that it was no marvel, the manner of antiquity being to con
secrate inventors, that the ./Egyptians had so few human idols in their
temples, but almost all brute ;

| Omnigenumqtie Deum monstra, et latrator Anubis,

Contra Neptunum, et Venerem, contraque Minervam, etc.

And if you like better the tradition of the Grecians, and ascribe the
first inventions to men, yet you will rather believe that Prometheus
first struck the flints, and marvelled at the spark, than that when he
first struck the flints he expected the spark; and therefore we see the
West Indian Prometheus had no intelligence with the European,
because of the rareness with them of flint, that gave the first occasion :
so as it should seem, that hitherto men are rather beholden to a wild
goat for surgery, or to a nightingale for music, or to the ibis for some
part of physic, or to the potlid that fled open for artillery, or generally
to chance, or anything else, than to logic, for the invention of arts and
sciences. Neither is the form of invention which Virgil describcth
much other.

Ut varias usus mcditando cxtunderet artcs
Paulatim.

For if you observe the words well, it is no other method than that
which brute beasts are capable of and do put in use : which is a per
petual intending or practising some one thing, urged and imposed by
an absolute necessity of conservation of being ; for so Cicero saith very
truly, " Usus uni rei deditus, et naturam et artcm sa?pe vincit," And
therefore if it be said of men,

Labor omnia vincit
Improbus, et duris urgens in rebus egestas ;

it is likewise said of beasts, "Quis psittaco docuit suum xa?pe;w
"Who taught the raven in a drought to throw pebbles into an hollow
tree, where she espied water, that the water might rise so as she might
come to it ? Who taught the bee to sail through such a vast sea of
air, and to find the way from a field in flower, a great way off, to her
hive? Who taught the ant to bite every grain of corn that she
burieth in her hill, lest it should take root and grow? Add then the
word cxtundere, which importeth the extreme difficulty ; and the word
paulatim^ which importeth the extreme slowness ; and we are where
we were, even amongst the ^Egyptian gods ; there being little left to
the faculty of reason, and nothing to the duty of art, for matter of
invention.

Secondly, the induction which the logicians speak of, and which
secmeth familiar with Plato, whereby the principles of sciences may be
pretended to be invented, and so the middle propositions by derivation
from the principles ; their form of induction, I say, is utterly vicious
and incompetent ; wherein their errand is the fouler, because it is the
duty of art to perfect and exalt nature ; but they contrariwise have
wronged, abused, and traduced nature. For he that shall atten-

II.] A D VA NCEMENT OF LEA RNING. \ $3

lively observe how the mind doth gather this excellent dew of
knowledge, like unto that which the poet spcakcth of, " A<:rci m.'llis
coelcstia dona," distilling and contriving it out of particulars naturpJ
and artificial, as the flowers of the field and garden, shall find, thai
the mind of herself by nature doth manage and act an induction much
better than they describe it. For to conclude upon an enumeration
of particulars without instance contradictory, is no conclusion, but a
conjecture ; for who can assure, in many subjects, upon those par
ticulars which appear of a side, that there arc not other on the con
trary side which appear not. As if Samuel should have rested upon
those sons of Jesse, which were brought before him, and failed of
David which was in the field. And this form, to say truth, is so gross,
as it had not been possible for wits so subtile, as have managed
these things, to have offered it to the world, but that they hasted to
their theories and dogmaticals, and were imperious and scornful
toward particulars, which their manner was to use but as lictores and
viatorcS) for Serjeants and whifflcrs, ad suininovendam titrbatn, to
make way and make room for their opinions, rather than in their true
use and service : certainly it is a thing may touch a man with a
religious wonder to sec how the footsteps of seduccment are the very
same in divine and human truth ; for as in divine truth man cannot
endure to become as a child ; so in human, they reputed the attend
ing the inductions, whereof we speak, as if it were a second infancy or
childhood.

Thirdly, allow some principles or axioms were rightly induced, yet
nevertheless certain it is that middle propositions cannot be deduced
from them in subject of nature by syllogism, that is, by touch and
reduction of them to principles in a middle term. It is true that in
sciences popular, as moralities, laws, and the like, yea and divinity,
because it pleaseth God to apply himself to the capacity of the
simplest, that form may have use, and in natural philsosophy likewise,
by way of argument or satisfactory reason, " Quae assensum parit,
operis effocta est ; " but the subtilty of nature and operations will no'
be enchained in those bonds ; for arguments consist of propositions^
and propositions of words, and words arc but the current tokens or
marks of popular notions of things; which notions, if they be grossly
and variably collected out of particulars, it is not the laborious exami
nation either of consequences of arguments, or of the truth of propo
sitions, that can ever correct that error, being, as the physicians speak,
in the first digestion ; and therefore it was not without cause, that
so many excellent philosophers became sceptics and academics,
and denied any certainty of knowledge or comprehension, and held
opinion, that the knowledge of man extended only to appearances and
probabilities. It is true that in Socrates it was supposed to be but a
form of irony, " Scicntiam dissimulando simulavit :" for he used to
disable his knowledge, to the end to enhance his knowledge, like the
humour of Tiberius in his beginnings, that would reign, but would not
acknowledge so much ; and in the later academy, which Cicero
embraced, this opinion also of acatalepsia^ I doubt, was not held

184 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

sincerely : for that all those which excelled in copy of speech, seem
to have chosen that sect as that which was fittest to give glory
to their eloquence, and variable discourses ; being rather like pro
gresses of pleasure, than journeys to an end. But assuredly many
scattered in both academics did hold it in subtilty and integrity. But
here was their chief error ; they charged the deceit upon the senses,
which in my judgment, notwithstanding all their cavillations, are very
sufficient to certify and report truth, though not always immediately,
yet by comparison, by help of instrument, and by producing and
urging such things as are too subtile for the sense, to some effect com
prehensible by the sense, and other like assistance. But they ought to
have charged the deceit upon the weakness of the intellectual powers,
and upon the manner of collecting and concluding upon the reports of
the senses. This I speak not to disable the mind of man, but to stir it
up to seek help : for no man, be he never so cunning or practised,
can make a straight line or perfect circle by steadiness of hand, which
may be easily done by help of a ruler or compass.

This part of invention, concerning the invention of sciences, I pur
pose, if God give me leave, hereafter to propound, having digested it
into two parts ; whereof the one I term experientia literata, and the
other interpretatio natures : the former being but a degree and rudi
ment of the latter. But I will not dwell too long, nor speak too great
upon a promise.

The invention of speech or argument is not properly an invention :
for to invent, is to discover that we know not, and not to recover or
rcsummon that which we already know, and the use of this invention
is no other, but out of the knowledge, whereof our mind is already
possessed, to draw forth or call before us that which may be pertinent
to the purpose which we take into our consideration. So as, to speak
truly, it is no invention, but a remembrance or suggestion, with an
application ; which is the cause why the schools do place it after judg
ment, as subsequent and not precedent. Nevertheless, because we
do account it a chace, as well of deer in an enclosed park, as in a
forest at large, and that it hath already obtained the name ; let it be
called invention, so as it be perceived and discerned that the scope
and end of this invention is readiness and present use of our know
ledge, and not addition or amplification thereof.

To procure this ready use of knowledge there are two courses, pre
paration and suggestion. The former of these scemeth scarcely apart of
knowledge, consisting rather of diligence than of any artificial erudition.
And herein Aristotle wittily, but hurtfully, doth deride the sophists near
his time, saying, "They did as if one that professed the art of shoe-
making should not teach how to make up a shoe, but only exhibit in a

readiness a number of shoes of all fashions and sizes." But yet a man
might ICply, that if a shoemaker should have no shoes in his shop, but
only work as he is bespoken, he should be weakly customed. But
Saviour, speaking of divine knowledge, saith, "that the kingdoi

our
dom of

heaven is like a good householder, that bringeth forth both new and
u store :" and we see the ancient writers of rhetoric do give it in pie-

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 185

cept that pleaders should have the places whereof they have most
continual use, ready handled in all the variety that maybe ; as that, to
speak for the literal interpretation of the law against equity, and con
trary ; and to speak for presumptions and inferences against testimony,
and contrary. And Cicero himself, being broken unto it by great ex
perience, dclivcrcth it plainly ; that whatsoever a man shall have occa
sion to speak of, if he will take the pains, may have it in effect pre
meditate, and handled in thcsi : so that when he Cometh to a particular,
he shall have nothing to do, but to put to names, and times, and places,
and such other circumstances of individuals. We sec likewise the
exact diligence of Demosthenes, who in regard of the great force that
the entrance and access into causes hath to make a good impression,
had ready framed a number of prefaces for orations and speeches.
All which authorities and precedents may ovcrwcigh Aristotle's opinion,
that would have us change a rich wardrobe for a pair of shears.

But the nature of the collection of this provision or preparatory
store, though it be common both to logic and rhetoric, yet having
made an entry of it here, where it came first to be spoken of, I think
fit to refer over the farther handling of it to rhetoric.

The other part of invention, which I term suggestion, doth assign
and direct us to certain marks or places, which may excite our mind
lo return and produce such knowledge, as it hath formerly collected,
to the end we may make use thereof. Neither is this use, truly taken,
only to furnish argument to dispute probably with others, but likewise
to minister unto our judgment to conclude aright within ourselves.
Neither may these places serve only to prompt our invention, but also
to direct our inquiry. For a faculty of wise interrogating is half a know
ledge. For as Plato saith, " Whosoever seekcth, knoweth that which
hcseeketh for in a general notion, else how shall he know it when he
hath found it?" And therefore the larger your anticipation is, the
more direct and compendious is your search. But the same places
which will help us what to produce of that which we know already, will
also help us, if a man of experience were before us, what questions to
ask : or, if we have books and authors to instruct us, what points to
search and revolve : so as I cannot report, that this part of invention,
which is that which the schools call topics, is deficient.

Nevertheless topics are of two sorts, general and special. The
general we have spoken to, but the particular hath been touched by some,
but rejected generally as inartificial and variable. But leaving the
humour which hath reigned too much in the schools, which is, to be
vainly subtile in a few things, which are within their command, and to
reject the rest, I do receive particular topics, that is, places or direc
tions of invention and inquiry in every particular knowledge, as things
of great use, being mixtures of logic with the matter of sciences : for
in these it holdcth, " Ars inveniendi adolescit cum inventis;" for as
in going of a way, we do not only gain that part of the way which is
passed, but we gain the better sight of that part of the way which re-
maincth ; so every degree of proceeding in a science giveth a light to
that which followeth, which light if we strengthen, by drawing it forth

iS6 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

into questions or places of inquiry, we do greatly advance our
pursuit.

Now we pass unto the arts of judgment, which handle the natures
of proofs and demonstrations, which as to induction hath a coincidence
with invention : for in all inductions, whether in good or vicious form,
the same action of the mind which inventcth, judgeth ; all one as in
the sense: but otherwise it is in proof by syllogism ; for the proof being
not immediate, but by mean, the invention of the mean is one thing,
and the judgment of the consequence is another ; the one exciting
only, the other examining. Therefore, for the real and exact form of
judgment, we refer ourselves to that which we have spoken of inter
pretation of nature.

For the other judgment by syllogism, as it is a thing most agreeable
to the mind of man, so it hath been vehemently and excellently
laboured . for the nature of man doth extremely covet to have some
what in his understanding fixed and unmoveable, and as a rest and
support of the mind. And therefore as Aristotle endeavoureth to
prove, that in all motion there is some point quiescent ; and as he
elegantly expoundeth the ancient fable of Atlas, that stood fixed, and
bare up the heaven from falling, to be meant of the poles or axle-tree
of heaven, whereupon the conversion is accomplished; so assuredly
men have a desire to have an Atlas or axle-tree within, to keep them
from fluctuation, which is like to a perpetual peril of falling ; therefore
men did hasten to set down some principles about which the variety
of their disputations might turn.

So then this art of judgment is but the reduction of propositions
to principles in a middle term. The principles to be agreed by all,
and exempted from argument : the middle term to be elected at the
liberty of every man's invention: the reduction to be of two kinds,
direct and inverted ; the one when the proposition is reduced to the
principle, which they term a probation ostensive ; the other, when the
contradictory of the proposition is reduced to the contradictory of the
principle, which is that which they call per incommoditm, or pressing
an absurdity ; the number of middle terms to be as the proposition
standcth degrees more or less removed from the principle.

But this art hath two several methods of doctrine, the one by way
of direction, the other by way of caution ; the former frameth and
scttcth down a true form of consequence, by the variations and deflec
tions from which errors and inconsequences may be exactly judged.
Toward the composition and structure of which form it is incident to
handle the parts thereof, which are propositions, and the parts of
propositions, which are simple words ; and this is that part of logic
which is comprehended in the analytics.

The second method of doctrine was introduced for expedite use
and assurance sake discovering the more subtile forms of sophisms
and illaqueations, with their redargutions, which is that which is
termed Blenches. For although in the more gross sorts of fallacies it
happeneth, as Seneca maketh the comparison well, as in juggling
feats, which though we know not how they are done, yet; we know

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 187

well it is not as it sccmeth to be, yet the more subtile sort of them
cloth not only put a man besides his answer, but doth many times
abuse his judgment.

This part concerning Elenches is excellently handled by Aristotle
in precept, but more excellently by Plato in example ; not only in the
persons of the sophists, but even in Socrates himself, who professing
to affirm nothing, but to infirm that which was affirmed by another,
hath exactly expressed all the forms of objection, fallacy, and rcdar-
gution. And although we have said that the use of this doctrine is
for redargution ; yet it is manifest, the degenerate and corrupt use is
for caption and contradiction, which passeth for a great faculty, and
no doubt is of very great advantage, though the difference be good
which was made between orators and sophisters, that the one is as
the greyhound, which hath his advantage in the race, and the other
as the hare, which hath her advantage in the turn, so as it is the
advantage of the weaker creature.

But yet farther, this doctrine of Elenches hath a more ample
latitude and extent, than is perceived ; namely, unto divers parts of
knowledge ; whereof some are laboured, and others omitted. For
first, I conceive, though it may seem at first somewhat strange, that
that part which is variably referred, sometimes to logic, sometimes to
metaphysic, touching the common adjuncts of essences, is but an
Elenche ; for the great sophism of all sophisms being equivocation
or ambiguity of words and phrase, especially of such words as are
most general and intervene in every inquiry ; it secmcth to me that
the true and fruitful uses, leaving vain subtiltics and speculations, of
the inquiry of majority, minority, priority, posteriority, identity, diver
sity, possibility, act, totality, parts, existence, privation, and the like,
arc but wise cautions against ambiguities of speech. So again, the
distribution of things into certain tribes, which we call categories or
predicaments, are but cautions against the confusion of definitions
and divisions.

Secondly, there is a scducement that workcth by the strength of
the impression, and not by the subtilty of the illaqucation, not so
much perplexing the reason, as over-ruling it by power of the
imagination. But this part I think more proper to handle, when I
shall speak of rhetoric.

But lastly, there is yet a much more important and profound kind
of fallacies in the mind of man, which I find not observed or inquired
at all, and think good to place here, as that which of all others appcr-
taineth most to rectify judgment : the force whereof is such, as it doth
not dazzle or snare the understanding in some particulars, but doth
more generally and inwardly infect and corrupt the state thereof.
For the mind of man is far from the nature of a clear and equal glass,
wherein the beams of things should reflect according to their true
incidence ; nay, it is rather like an enchanted glass, full of superstition
and imposture, if it be not delivered and reduced. For this purpose,
let us consider the- false appearances that are imposed upon us by the
general nature of the mind, beholding them in an example or two ;

1 88 ADVA NCEMENT OF LEA RNING. [Book

as first in that instance which is the root of all superstition, namely,
that to the nature of the mind of all men it is consonant for the affir
mative or active to effect, more than the negative or privative. So
that a few times hitting, or presence, countervails oft-times failing, or
absence ; as was well answered by Diagoras to him that showed him,
in Neptune's temple, the great number of pictures of such as had
escaped shipwreck, and had paid their vows to Neptune, saying,
" Advise now, you that think it folly to invocate Neptune in tempest.
Yea, but, saith Diagoras, where are they painted that are drowned?"
Let us behold it in another instance, namely, " That the spirit of man,
being of an equal and uniform substance, doth usually suppose and
feign in nature a greater equality and uniformity than is in truth."
Hence it comcth, that the mathematicians cannot satisfy themselves,
except they reduce the motions of the celestial bodies to perfect circles,
rejecting spiral lines, and labouring to be discharged of eccentrics.
Hence it cometh, that whereas there are many things in nature, as it
were, jnonodica, sui juris j yet the cogitations of man do feign unto
them relatives, parallels, and conjugates, whereas no such thing is ;
as they have feigned an element of fire to keep square with earth,
water, and air, and the like ; nay, it is not credible, till it be opened,
what a number of fictions and fantasies, the similitude of human
actions and arts, together with the making of man communis mensura,
have brought into natural philosophy, not much better than the heresy
of the Anthropomorphites, bred in the cells of gross and solitary
monks, and the opinion of Epicurus, answerable to the same in
heathenism, who supposed the gods to be of human shape. And
therefore Velleius the Epicurean needed not to have asked why God
should have adorned the heavens with stars, as if he had been an
yEdilis ; one that should have set forth some magnificent shows or
plays. For if that great work-master had been of an human disposi
tion, he would have cast the stars into some pleasant and beautiful
works and orders, like the frets in the roofs of houses ; whereas one
can scarce find a posture in square, or triangle, or straight line,
amongst such an infinite number ; so differing an harmony there is
between the spirit of man, and the spirit of nature.

Let us consider, again, the false appearances imposed upon us by
every man's own individual nature and custom, in that feigned suppo
sition that Plato maketh of the cave ; for certainly, if a child were
continued in a grot or cave under the earth until maturity of age, and
came suddenly abroad, he would have strange and absurd imagina
tions. So in like manner, although our persons live in the view of
heaven, yet our spirits are included in the caves of our own com
plexions and customs, which minister unto us infinite errors and vain
opinions, if they be not recalled to examination. But hereof we have
given many examples in one of the errors, or peccant humours, which
we ran briefly over in our first book.

And lastly, let us consider the false appearances that are imposed
upon us by words, which are framed and applied according to the
conceit and capacities of the vulgar sort ; and although we think WQ

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 189

govern our words, and prescribe it well, u Loquendum ut vulgus.
sentiendum ut sapientes ;" yet certain it is, that words, as a Tartar's
bow, do shoot back upon the understanding of the wisest, and mightily
intangle and pervert the judgement ; so as it is almost necessary in all
controversies and disputations, to imitate the wisdom of the mathe
matics, in setting down in the very beginning the definitior.s of our
very words r.nd terms, that others may know how we accept and
understand them, and whether they concur with us or no. For it
cometh to pass, for want of this, that we are sure to end there where
we ought to have begun, which is in questions and differences about
words. To conclude therefore, it must be confessed that it is not
possible to divorce ourselves from these fallacies and false appearances,
because they arc inseparable from our nature and condition of life ; so
yet nevertheless the caution of them, (for all clenches, as was said, are
but cautions), doth extremely import the true conduct of human judg
ment. The particular clenches or cautions against these three false
appearances, I find altogether deficient.

There remaineth one part of judgment of great excellency, which
to mine understanding is so slightly touched, as I may report thai also
deficient ; which is, the application of the differing kinds of proofs to
the differing kinds of subjects ; for there being but four kinds oi
demonstrations, that is, by the immediate consent of the mind or
sense, by induction, by syllogism, and by congruity ; which is that which
"Aristotle calleth demonstration in orb, or circle, and not a notioribus;
every of these hath certain subjects in the matter of sciences, in which
respectively they have chiefest use; and certain others, from which
respectively they ought to be excluded, and the rigour and curiosity
in requiring the more severe proofs in some things, and chiefly the
facility in contenting ourselves with the more remiss proofs in others,
hath been amongst the greatest causes of detriment and hindrance
to knowledge. The distributions and assignations of demonstrations,
according to the analogy of sciences I note as deficient.

The custody or retaining of knowledge is cither in writing or
memory ; whereof writing hath two parts, the nature of the character,
and the order of the entry : for the art of characters, or other visible notes
of words or things, it hath nearest conjugation with grammar ; and
therefore I refer it to the due place : for the disposition and collocation
of that knowledge which we preserve in writing, itconsisteth in a good
digest of common-places wherein I am not ignorant of the prejudice
imputed to the use of common-place books, as causing a retardation of
reading, and some sloth or relaxation of memory. But because it is
but a counterfeit thing in knowledges to be forward and pregnant,
except a man be deep and full, I hold the entry of common-places to
be a matter of great use and essence in studying, as that which assurcth
copy of invention, and contracteth judgment to a strength. But this is
true, that of the methods of common-places that I have seen, there is
none of any sufficient worth, all of them carrying merely the face of a
school, and not of a world, and referring to vulgar matters, and pcdan-
tical divisions, without all life, or respect to action.

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

For the other principal part of the custody of knowledge, which is
memory, I find that faculty in my judgment weakly inquired of. An
art there is extant of it ; but it sccmeth to me that there are better
precepts than that art, and better practices of that art, than those
received. It is certain the art, as it is, may be raised to points of
ostentation prodigious : but in use, as it is now managed, it is barren,
not burdensome, nor dangerous to natural memory, as is imagined,
but barren ; that is, not dexterous to be applied to the serious use of
business and occasions. And therefore I make no more estimation of
repeating a great number of names or words upon once hearing, or the
pouring forth of a number of verses or rhimes ex tempore, or the.
making of a satirical simile of every thing, or the turning of every thing
to a jest, or the falsifying or contradicting of every thing by cavil, or
the like, whereof in the faculties of the mind there is great copia, and
such as by device and practice may be exalted to an extreme degree of
wonder, than I do of the tricks of tumblers, funambuloes, baladines ;
the one being the same in the mind, that the other is in the body ;
matters of strangeness without worthiness.

This art of memory is but built upon two intentions ; the one
prcnotion, the other emblem. Prenotion dischargeth the indefinite
seeking of that we would remember, and dirccteth us to seek in a narrow
compass ; that is, somewhat that hath congruity with our place of
memory. Emblem reduceth conceits intellectual to images sensible,
which strike the memory more ; out of which axioms may be drawn"
much better practice than that in use : and besides which axioms,
there are divers more touching help of memory, not inferior to them.
But I did in the beginning distinguish, not to report those things
deficient, which are but only ill managed.

There rcmaincth the fourth kind of rational knowledge, which is
transitive, concerning the expressing or transferring our knowledge to
others, which I will term by the general name of tradition or delivery.
Tradition hath three parts : the first concerning the organ of tradition ;
the second, concerning the method of tradition ; and the third, con
cerning the illustration of tradition.

For the organ of tradition, it is either speech or writing : for
Aristotle saith well, " Words are the images of cogitations, and letters
arc the images of words ;" but yet it is not of necessity that cogitations
be expressed by the medium of words. For whatsoever is capable of
sufficient differences, and those perceptible by the sense, is in nature
competent to express cogitations. And therefore we see in the com
merce of barbarous people, that understand not one another's language,
and in the practice of divers that are dumb and deaf, that men's minds
are expressed in gestures, though not exactly, yet to serve the turn.
And we understand farther, that it is the use of China, and the king
doms of the high Levant, to write in characters real, which express
neither letters nor words in gross, but things or notions ; insomuch as
countries and provinces, which understand not one another's language,
can nevertheless read one another's writings, because the characters
arc accepted more generally than the languages do extend ; and there-

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 191

fore they have a vast multitude of characters, as many, I suppose, as
radical words.

These notes of cogitations are of two sorts ; the one when the note
hath some similitude or congruity with . the notion ; the other ad
placitum, having force only by contract or acceptation. Of the former
sort are hieroglyphics and gestures. For as to hieroglyphics, things
of ancient use, and embraced chiefly by the /Egyptians, one of the
most ancient nations, they are but as continued impresses and
emblems. And as for gestures, they arc as transitory hieroglyphics,
and are to hieroglyphics as words spoken are to words written, in that
they abide not ; but they have evermore, as well as the other, an
affinity with the things signified ; as Pcriander, being consulted with,
how to preserve a tyranny newly usurped, bid the messenger attend
and report what he saw him do, and went into his garden and topped
all the highest flowers ; signifying, that it consisted in the cutting off
and keeping low of the nobility and grandees. Ad placitnm are the
characters real before mentioned, and words : although some have
been willing by curious inquiry, or rather by apt feigning, to have
derived imposition of names from reason and intendmcnt ; a specu
lation elegant, and, by reason it searcheth into antiquity, reverent ;
but sparingly mixed with truth, and of small fruit. This portion of
knowledge, touching the notes of things, and cogitations in general, 1
find not inquired, but deficient. And although it may seem of no great
use, considering that words and writings by letter do far excel all the
other ways ; yet because this part conccrncth, as it were, the mint of
knowledge, for words are the tokens current and accepted for conceits,
as moneys are for values, and that it is fit men be not ignorant that
moneys may be of another kind than gold and silver, 1 thought to
propound it to better inquiry.

Concerning speech and words, the consideration of them hath pro
duced the science of Grammar ; for man still strivcth to reintegrate
himself in those benedictions, from which by his fault he hath been
deprived ; and as he hath striven against the first general curse, by
the invention of all other arts ; so hath he sought to come forth of the
second general curse, which was the confusion of tongues, by the art
of grammar, whereof the use in a mother tongue is small ; in a foreign
tongue more ; but most in such foreign tongues as have ceased to be
vulgar tongues, and are turned only to learned tongues. The duty of
it is of two natures ; the one popular, which is for the speedy and per
fect attaining languages, as well for intercourse of speech, as for
understanding of authors ; the other philosophical, examining the
power and nature of words, as they arc the footsteps and prints of
reason : which kinds of analogy between words and reason is handled
sparsitn, brokenly, though not entirely ; and therefore I cannot report
it deficient, though I think it very worthy to be reduced into a science
by itself.

Unto grammar also bclongeth, as an appendix, the consideration of
the accidents of words, which arc measure, sound, and elevation or
accent, and the sweetness and harshness of them : whence hath issued

192 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

some curious observations in rhetoric, but chiefly poesy, as we consider
it, in respect of the verse, and not of the argument; wherein though
men in learned tongues do tie themselves to the ancient measures, yet
in modern languages it seemeth to me, as free to make new measures
of verses as of dances ; for a dance is a measured pace, as a verse is
a measured speech. In these things the sense is better judge than
the art ;

Coenoe fercula nostroe,
Mallem convivis, quam placuisse cods.

And of the servile expressing antiquity in an unlike and unfit subject,
it is well said, " Quod tempore antiquum videtur, id incongruitate est
maxime novum."

For ciphers, they are commonly in letters or alphabets, but may be
in words. The kinds of ciphers, besides the simple ciphers, with
changes, and intermixtures of nulls and non-significants, are many,
according to the nature or rule of the infolding : wheel-ciphers, key-
ciphers, doubles, etc.. But the virtues of them, whereby they are to
be preferred, are three ; that they be not laborious to write and read ;
that they be impossible to decipher ; and in some cases, that they be
without suspicion. The highest degree whereof is to write omnia per
omnia; which is undoubtedly possible with a proportion quincuple at
most, of the writing infolding to the writing infolded, and no other
restraint whatsoever. This art of ciphering hath for relative an art of
deciphering, by supposition unprofitable, but, as things are, of great
use. For suppose that ciphers were well managed, there be multitudes
of them which exclude the decipherer. But in regard of the rawness
and unskilfulness of the hands through which they pass, the greatest
matters are many times carried in the weakest ciphers.

In the enumeration of these private and retired arts, it may be
thought I seek to make a great muster-roll of sciences, naming them
for show and ostentation, and to little other purpose. But let those
which are skilful in them judge, whether I bring them in only for
appearance, or whether in that which I speak of them, though in few
words, there be not some seed of proficience. And this must be
remembered, that as there be many of great account in their countries
and provinces, which when they come up to the seat of the estate, are
but of mean rank, and scarcely regarded ; so these arts being here
placed with the principal and supreme sciences, seem petty things; yet
to such as have chosen them to spend their labours and studies in
them, they seem great matters.

For the method of tradition, I see it hath moved a controversy in
our time. But as in civil business, if there be a meeting, and men fall
at words, there is commonly an end of the matter for that time, and
no proceeding at all : so in learning, where there is much controversy,
there is many times little inquiry. For this part of knowledge of
method seemeth to me so weakly inquired, as I shall report it deficient.

Method hath been placed, and that not amiss, in logic, as a part
of judgment : for as the doctrine of syllogisms comprehendeth the

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. r 3

rules of judgment upon that which is invented, so the doctrine of
method containeth the rules of judgment upon that which is to be
delivered; for judgment precedeth delivery, as it followeth invention.
Neither is the method or the nature of the tradition material only to
the use of knowledge, but likewise to the progression of knowledge :
for since the labour and life of one man cannot attain to perfection of
knowledge, the wisdom of the tradition is that which inspireth the
felicity of continuance and proceeding. And therefore the most real
diversity of method, is of method referred to use, and method referred
to progression, whereof the one may be termed magistral, and the
other of probation.

The latter whereof seemeth to be via dcserta et interdnsa. For as
knowledges are now delivered, there is a kind of contract of error,
between the deliverer and the receiver ; for he that dclivereth know
ledge, desireth to deliver it in such form as may be best believed, and
not as may be best examined : and he that receiveth knowledge, des'reth
rather present satisfaction, than expectant inquiry : and so rather not
to doubt, than not to err; glory making the author not to lay open his
weakness, and sloth making the disciple not to know his strength.

Hut knowledge, that is delivered as a thread to be spun on, ought
to be delivered and intimated, if it were possible, in the same method
wherein it was invented, and so is it possible of knowledge induced.
But in this same anticipated and prevented knowledge, no man
knoweth how he came to the knowledge which he hath obtained. But
yet nevertheless, secundnm inajits et minus, a man may revisit and
descend unto the foundations of his knowledge and consent ; and so
transplant it into another as it grew in his own mind. For it is in
knowledges, as it is in plants, if you mean to use the plant, it is no
matter for the roots ; but if you mean to remove it to grow, then it is
more assured to rest upon roots than slip* : so the delivery of know
ledges, as it is now used, is as of fair bou.'es of trees without the roots;
good for the carpenter, but not for the planter. But if you will have
sciences grow, it is less matter for the shaft or body of the tree, so you
look well to the taking up of the roots : of which kind of delivery the
method of the mathematics, in that subject, hath some shadow ; but
generally I see it neither put in use nor put in inquisition, and there
fore note it for deficient.

Another diversity of method there is, which hath some affinity with
the former, used in some cases by the discretion of the ancients, but
disgraced since by the impostures of many vain persons, who have
made it as a false light for their counterfeit merchandizes ; and that
is, enigmatical and disclosed, The pretence whereof is to remove the
vulgar capacities from being admitted to the secrets of knowledges,
and to reserve them to selected auditors, or wits of such sharpness as
can pierce the veil.

Another diversity of method, whereof the consequence is great, is
the delivery of knowledge in aphorisms, or m methods ; wherein we
may observe, that it hath been too much taken into custom, out of a
few axioms or observations upon any subject to make a solemn and

194 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

formal art, filling it with some discourses, and illustrating it with
examples, and digesting it into a sensible method ; but the writings in
aphorisms hath many excellent virtues, whereto the writing in method
doth not approach.

For first it trieth the writer, whether he be superficial or solid :
for aphorisms, except they should be ridiculous, cannot be made but
of the pith and heart of sciences ; for discourse of illustration is cut off,,
recitals of examples are cut off ; discourse of connection and order is
cut off; descriptions of practice are cut off; so there remaineth
nothing to fill the aphorisms, but some good quantity of observation :
and therefore no man can suffice, nor in reason will attempt to write
aphorisms, but he that is sound and grounded. But in methods,

Tantum series juncturaque pollet,
Tantum de medio sumptis accedit honoris ;

as a man shall make a great show of an art, which, if it were dis
jointed, would come to little. Secondly, methods are more fit to win
consent or belief, but less fit to point to action ; for they carry a kind
of demonstration in orb or circle, one part illuminating another, and
therefore satisfy. But particulars being dispersed, do best agree with
dispersed directions. And lastly, aphorisms, representing a know
ledge broken, do invite men to inquire farther ; whereas methods
carrying the show of a total, do secure men as if they were at farthest.

Another diversity of method, which is likewise of great weight, is
the handling of knowledge by assertions, and their proofs ; or by
questions, and their determinations ; the latter kind whereof, if it be
immoderately followed, is prejudicial to the proceeding of learning, as
it is to the proceeding of an army to go about to besiege every little
fort or hold. For if the field be kept, and the sum of the enterprise
pursued, those smaller things will come in of themselves ; but indeed a
man would not leave some important place of the enemy at his back.
In like manner, the use of confutation in the delivery of sciences ought
to be very sparing ; and to serve to remove strong preoccupations and
prejudgments, and not to minister and excite disputations and
doubts.

Another diversity of methods is according to the subject or matter
which is handled ; for there is a great difference in delivery of the
mathematics, which are the most abstracted of knowledges, and policy,
which is most immersed ; and howsoever contention hath been re •
moved, touching the uniformity of method in multiformity of matter ;
yet we see how that opinion, besides the weakness of it, hath been of ill
desert towards learning, as that which taketh the way to reduce learn
ing to certain empty and barren generalities; being but the very husks
and shells of sciences, all the kernel being forced out and expulsed with
the torture and press of the method : And therefore as I did allow well
of particular topics of invention, so do I allow likewise of particular
methods of tradition.

Another diversity of judgment in the delivery and teaching of
knowledge, is according unto the light and presuppositions of that

II.) ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 195

which is delivered ; for that knowledge which is new and foreign from
opinions received, is to be delivered in another form than that that is
agreeable and familiar ; and therefore Aristotle, when he thinks to tax
Deinocritus, doth in truth commend him, where he saith, " If we shall
indeed dispute, and not follow after similitudes," etc. For those, whose
conceits are seated in popular opinions, need only but to prove or dis
pute ; but those whose conceits arc beyond popular opinions, have a
double labour ; the one to make themselves conceived, and the other to
prove and demonstrate : so that it is of necessity with them to have
recourse to similitudes and translations to express themselves. And
therefore in the infancy of learning, and in rude times, when those con
ceits which are now trivial were then new, the world was full uf parables
and similitudes ; for else would men either have passed over without
mark, or else rejected for paradoxes, that which was offered, before they
had understood or judged. So in divine learning, we see how frequent
parables and tropes are : for it is a rule, " That whatsoever science is
not consonant to presuppositions, must pray in aid of similitudes."

There be also other diversities of methods vulgar and received :
as that of resolution or analysis, of constitution or systasis, of conceal
ment or cryptic, etc., which i do allow well of, though I have stood upon
those which are least handled and observed. All which I have remem
bered to this purpose, because I would erect and constitute one general
inquiry, which seems to me deficient, touching the wisdom of tradition.

But unto this part of knowledge concerning method, doth farther
belong, not only the architecture of a whole frame of work, but also
the several beams and columns thereof, not as to their stuff, but as
to their quantity and figure : and therefore method considcreth not
only the disposition of the argument or subject, but likewise the pro
positions ; not as to their truth or matter, but as to their limitation and
manner. For herein Ramus merited better a great deal in reviving the
good rules and propositions. Ka66\ou irpurov KOTO TOJ/T^J, etc. than he did
in introducing the canker of epitomes ; and yet, as it is the con
dition of human things, that, according to the ancient fables, " The
most precious things have the most pernicious keepers;" it was so,
that the attempt of the one made him fall upon the other. For he
had need be well conducted, that should design to make axioms
convertible ; if he make them not withal circular, and non promovent
cr incurring into themselves : but yet the intention was excellent.

The other considerations of method concerning propositions arc
chiefly touching the utmost propositions, which limit the dimensions
of sciences ; for every knowledge may be fitly said, besides the pro
fundity, which is the truth and substance of it that makes it solid, to
have a longitude and a latitude, accounting the latitude towards other
sciences, and the longitude towards action ; that is, from the greatest
generality, to the most particular precept : The one giveth rule how
far one knowledge ought to intermeddle within the province of another
which is the rule they call nadavrt : the other giveth rule unto what
degree of particularity a knowledge should descend : which latter I find
passed over in silence, being in my judgment the more material : for ccr-

ic;6 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

tainly there must be somewhat left to practice ; buthowmuch is worthy
the inquiry. We see remote and superficial generalities do but offer
knowledge to scorn of practical men, and are no more aiding to practice,
than an Ortelius's universal map is to direct the way between London
and York. The better sort of rules have been not unfitly compared to
glasses of steel unpolished ; where you may see the images of things,
but first they must be filed : so the rules will help, if they be laboured
and polished by practice. But how crystalline they may be made at
the first, and how far forth they|may be polished aforehand, is the ques
tion ; the inquiry whereof scemeth to me deficient.

There hath been also laboured, and put in practice, a method,
which is not a lawful method, but a method of imposture, which is, to
deliver knowledges in such a manner as men may speedily come to
make a show of learning, who have it not : such was the travel of Ray-
mundus Lullius in making that art, which bears his name, not unlike
to some books of typocosmy which have been made since, being no
thing but a mass of words of all arts, to give men countenance, that
those which use the terms might be thought to understand the art ;
which collections are much like a fripper's or broker's shop, that hath
ends of everything, but nothing of worth.

Now we descend to that part which concerneth the illustration of
tradition, comprehended in that science which we call Rhetoric, or
art of eloquence ; a science excellent, and excellently well laboured.
For although in true value it is inferior to wisdom, as it is said by God
to Moses, when he disabled himself for want of this faculty, " Aaron
shall be thy speaker, and thou shalt be to him as God :" Yet with
people it is the more mighty : for so Solomon saith, " Sapiens corde
appellabitur prudens, sed dulcis eloquio majora reperiet ;" signifying,
that profoundness of wisdom will help a man to a name or admira
tion, but that it is eloquence that prevailed! in an active life ; and as to
the labouring of it, the emulation of Aristotle with the rhetoricians of
his time, and the experience of Cicero, hath made them in their works
of rhetorics exceed themselves. Again, the excellency of examples of
eloquence in the orations of Demosthenes and Cicero, added to the
perfection of the precepts of eloquence, hath doubled the progression
in this art : and therefore the deficiencies which I shall note, will rather
be in some collections, which may as handmaids attend the art, than
in the rules or use of the art itself.

^ Notwithstanding, to stir the earth a little about the roots of this
science, as we have done of the rest ; the duty and office of rhetoric is
to apply reason to imagination for the better moving of the will : for
we sec reason is disturbed in the administration thereof by three
means : by illaqueation or sophism, which pertains to logic ; by
imagination or impression, which pertains to rhetoric ; and by passion
or alfection, which pertains to morality. And as in negociation with
others, men are wrought by cunning, by importunity, and by vehe-
mency ; so in this negociation within ourselves, men are undermined

nconscquences, solicited and importuned by impressions or obser
vations, and transported by passions. Neither is the nature of man SQ

II. ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. '97

unfortunately built, as that those powers and arts should have force to
disturb reason, and not to establish and advance it ; for the end of
logic is to teach a form of argument to secure reason, and not to
entrap it. The end of morality, is to procure the affections to obey
reason, and not to invade it. The end of rhetoric, is to till the imagi
nation to second reason, and not to oppress it ; for these abuses of arts
come in but e.r obliquo for caution.

And therefore it was great injustice in Plato, though springing out
of a just hatred of the rhetoricians of his time, to esteem of rhetoric
but as a voluptuary art, resembling it to cookery, that did mar whole
some meats, and help unwholesome by variety of sauces, to the plea
sure of the taste. For we see that speech is much more conversant in
adorning that which is good, than in colouring that which is evil ; for
there is no man but speakcth more honestly than he can do or think ;
and it was excellently noted by Thucydides in Cleon, that because he
used to hold on the bad side in causes of estate, therefore he was
ever inveighing against eloquence and good speech, knowing that no
man can speak fair of courses sordid and base. And therefore as
Plato said elegantly, "That Virtue, if she could be seen, would move
great love and affection:" so seeing that she cannot be showed to the
sense by corporal shape, the next degree is, to show her to the imagi
nation in lively representation : for to show her to reason only in sub-
tilty of argument, was a thing ever derided in Chrysippus, and many
of the Stoics, who thought to thrust virtue upon men by sharp disputa
tions and conclusions, which have no sympathy with the will of man.

Again, if the affections in themselves were pliant and obedient to
reason, it were true, there should be no great use of persuasions and
insinuations to the will, more than of naked proposition and proofs :
but in regard of the continual mutinies and seditions of the affections,

Video meliora, proboque ;
Dcteriora scquor ;

Reason would become captive and servile, if eloquence of persuasions
did not practise and win the imagination from the affections' part, and
contract a confederacy between the reason and imagination against the
affections ; for the affections themselves carry ever an appetite to
good, as reason doth. The difference is, that the affection beholdeth
merely the present, reason beholdeth the future and sum of time.
And therefore the present filling the imagination more, reason is
commonly vanquished ; but after that force of eloquence and persua
sion hath made things future and remote appear as present, then upon
the revolt of the imagination reason prevailctn.

We conclude therefore, that rhetoric can be no more charged with
the colouring of the worst part, than logic with sophistry, or morality
with vice. For we know the doctrines of contraries arc the same,
though the use be opposite. It appcarcth also, that logic difiereth
from rhetoric, not only as the fist from the palm, the one close, the
other at large ; but much more in this, that logic handleth reason
exact, and in truth : and rhetoric handleth it as it is planted in popular

198 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

opinions and manners. And therefore Aristotle doth wisely place
rhetoric as between logic on the one side, and moral or civil know
ledge on the other, as participating of both : for the proofs and
demonstrations of logic are toward all men indifferent and the same :
but the proofs and persuasions of rhetoric ought to differ according to
the auditors :

Orpheus in sylvis, inter delphinas Arion.

Which application, in perfection of idea, ought to extend so far, that
if a man should speak of the same thing to several persons, he should
speak to them all respectively, and several ways: though this politic
part of eloquence in private speech, it is easy for the greatest orators
to want ; whilst by the observing their well graced forms of speech,
they lose the volubility of application : and therefore it shall not be
amiss to recommend this to better inqu;ry, not being curious whether
we place it here, or in that part which conccrneth policy.

Now therefore will I descend to the deficiencies, which, as I said,
are but attendances : and first, I do not find the wisdom and diligence
of Aristotle well pursued, who began to make a collection of the
popular signs and colours of good and evil, both simple and compara
tive, which are as the sophisms of rhetoric, as I touched before. For
example ;

SOPIIISMA.
Quod laudatur, bonum : quod vituperatur, malum.

REDARGUTIO.

Laudat venales qui vult extrudere merces.
Malum est, malum est, inquit emptor ; sed cum recesserit, turn gloriabitur.

The defects in the labour of Aristotle are three ; one, that there be
but a few of many ; another, that their elenchus's are not annexed ;
and the third, that he conceived but a part of the use of them : for
their use is not only in probation, but much more in impression. For
many forms are equal in signification, which are differing in impres
sion ; as the difference is great in the piercing of that which is sharp,
and that which is flat, though the strength of the percussion be the
same : for there is no man but will be a little more raised by hearing
i; said; " Your enemies will be glad of this ;"

Hoc Ithacus velit, et magno mercentur Atridoe ;
than by hearing it said only ; " This is evil for you."

Secondly, I do resume also that which I mentioned before, touch
ing provision or preparatory store, for the furniture of speech and
readiness of invention, which appeareth to be of two sorts ; the
one in resemblance to a shop of pieces unmade up, the other to
a shop of things ready made up, both to be applied to that which is
frequent and most in request : the former of these I will call antitheta,
and the latter formula:.

Antithcta are theses argued pro et contra, wherein men may be
more large and laborious ; but, in such as are able to do it, to avoid pro-

1 1 J ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

lixity of entry, I wish the seeds of the several arguments to be cast up
into some brief and acute sentences, not to be cited, but to be as scancs
or bottoms of thread, to be umvindcd at large when they come to be
oscd ; supplying authorities and examples by reference.

PRO VERBIS LEGIS.

Non est interprctatio, scd divinatio, qunerccedit a literal
Cum rcccditur a litera judcx transit in legislatorem.

PRO SENTENTIA LEGIS.

Kx omnibus verbis cstcliciendus scnsus, qui intcrprctatur singula.

Formula are but decent and apt passages or conveyances of
speech, which may serve indifferently for differing subjects ; as of
preface, conclusion, digression, transition, accusation, etc. For as in
buildings there is great pleasure and use in the well-casting of the
staircases, entries, doors, windows, and the like ; so in speech, the
conveyances and passages are of special ornament and effect.

A CONCLUSION IN A DELIBERATIVE.
So may we rcdecai the faults passed, and prevent the inconveniences future.

There remain two appendices touching the tradition of knowledge,
the one critical, the other pedantical ; for all knowledge is either
delivered by teachers, or attained by men's proper endeavours : and
therefore as the principal part of tradition of knowledge concerncth
chiefly writing of books, so the relative part thereof concerncth reading
of books : whereunto appertain incidcntly these considerations. The
first is concerning the true correction and edition of authors, wherein
nevertheless rash diligence hath done great prejudice. For these
critics have often presumed that that which they understand not, is
false set down. As the priest, that where he found it written of St.
Paul, " Dcmissus cst per sportam," mended his book, and made it
" Dcmissus cst per portam, ' because sporta was an hard word, and
out of his reading : and surely their errors, though they be not so
palpable and ridiculous, yet are of the same kind. And therefore as it
hath been wisely noted, the most corrected copies are commonly
the least correct

The second is concerning the exposition and explication of authors,
which rcsteth in annotations and commentaries, wherein it is over
usual to blanch the obscure places, and discourse upon the plain.

The third is concerning the times, which in many cases give great
light to true interpretations.

The fourth is concerning some brief censure and judgment of the
authors, that men thereby may make some election unto themselves
what books to read.

And the fifth is concerning the syntax and disposition of studies,
that men may know in what order or pursuit to read.

For pedantical knowledge, it containeth that difference of tradition

200 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

which is proper for youth, whereunto appertain divers considciations
of great fruit.

As first the timing and seasoning of knowledges ; as with what to
initiate them, and from what, for a time, to refrain them.

Secondly, the consideration where to begin with the easiest, and so
proceed to the more difficult, and in what courses to press the more
difficult, and then to turn them to the more easy ; for it is one method
to practise swimming with bladders, and another to practise dancing
with heavy shoes.

A third is the application of learning according unto the propriety
of the wits ; for there is no defect in the faculties intellectual but
seemeth to have a proper cure contained in some studies : as for
example, if a child be bird-witted, that is, hath not the faculty of
attention, the mathematics giveth a remedy thereunto, for in them, if
the wit be caught away but a moment, one is new to begin : and as
sciences have a propriety towards faculties for cure and help, so
faculties or powers have a sympathy towards sciences for excellency or
speedy profiting ; and therefore it is an inquiry of great wisdom what
kinds of wits a-nd natures are most proper for what sciences.

Fourthly, the ordering of exercises is matter of great consequence
to hurt or help : for, as is well observed by Cicero, men in exercising
their faculties, if they be not well advised, do exercise their faults, and
get ill habits as well as good ; so there is a great judgment to be had
in the continuance and intermission of exercises. It were too long to
particularize a number of other considerations of this nature ; things
but of mean appearance, but of singular efficacy : for as the wronging
or cherishing of seeds or young plants, is that that is most important
to their thriving ; and as it was noted, that the first six kings, being in
truth as tutors of the state of Rome in the infancy thereof, was the
principal cause of the immense greatness of that state which followed ;
so the culture and manurance of minds in youth hath such a forcible,
though unseen, operation, as hardly any length of time or contention
of labour can countervail it afterwards. And it is not amiss to observe
also, how small and mean faculties gotten by education, yet when they
fall into great men or great matters, do work great and important
effects ; whereof we see a notable example in Tacitus, of two stage
players, Percennius and Vibulenus, who by their faculty of playing put
the Pannonian armies into an extreme tumult and combustion ; for
there arising a mutiny amongst them, upon the death of Augustus
Caesar, Blcesus the lieutenant had committed some of the mutineers,
which were suddenly rescued ; whereupon Vibulenus got to be heard
speak, which he did in this manner : " These poor innocent wretches
appointed to cruel death, you have restored to behold the light : but
who shall restore my brother to me, or life unto my brother, that was
sent hither in message from the legions of Germany, to treat of the
common cause ? And he hath murdered him this last night by some
of his fencers and ruffians, that he hath about him for his executioners
upon soldiers. Answer, Blcesus, what is done with his body? The
mortalest enemies do not deny burial ; when I have performed my last

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. ?or

duties to the corpse with kisses, with tears, command me to be slain
besides him, so that these my fellows, for our good meaning and our
true hearts to the legions, may have leave to bury us." \Viih which
speech he put the army into an infinite fury and uproar; whereas truth
was he had no brother, neither was there any such matter, but he
played it merely as if he had been upon the stage.

But to return, we are now come to a period of rational knowledges,
wherein if I have made the divisions other than those that arc re
ceived, yet would I not be thought to disallow all those divisions which
I do not use; for there is a double necessity imposed upon me of
altering the divisions. The one, because it differeth in end and
purpose, to sort together those things which are next in nature, and
those things which are next in use; for if a secretary of estate should
sort his papers, it is like in his study, or general cabinet, he would sort
together things of a nature, as treaties, instructions, etc. but in his
boxes, or particular cabinet, he would sort together those that he were
like to use together, though of several natures ; so in this general
cabinet of knowledge it was necessary for me to follow the divisions of
the nature of things; whereas if myself had been to handle any par
ticular knowledge I would have respected the divisions fittest for use.
The other, because the bringing in of the deficiencies did by con
sequence alter the partitions of the rest : for let the knowledge extant,
for demonstration sake, be fifteen, let the knowledge with the de
ficiencies be twenty, the parts of fifteen are not the parts of twenty, for
tfie parts of fifteen are three and five, the parts of twenty are two, four,
five and ten; so as these things are without contradiction, and
could not otherwise be.

WE proceed now to that knowledge which considereth of the
Appetite and Will of Man, whereof Solomon saith, " Ante omnia, fili,
custodi cor tuum, nam inde procedunt actiones vitas." In the handling
of this science, those which have written seem to me to have done as
if a man that professed to teach to write, did only exhibit fair copies of
alphabets, and letters joined, without giving any precepts or directions
for the carriage of the hand and framing of the letters ; so have they
made good and fair exemplars and copies, carrying the draughts and
portraitures of good, virtue, duty, felicity; propounding them well
described as the true objects and scopes of man's will and desires ; but
how to attain these excellent marks, and how to frame and subdue the
will of man to become true and conformable to these pursuits, they
pass it over altogether, or slightly and unprofitably ; for it is not the
disputing that moral virtues are in the mind of man by habit and not
by nature, or the distinguishing that generous spirits are won by
doctrines and persuasions, and the vulgar sort by reward and punish
ment, and the like scattered glances and touches, that cau excuse the
absence of this part.

The reason of this omission I suppose to be that hidden rock
whereupon both this and many other barks of knowledge have been
cast away; which is, that men have despised to be conversant in

202 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Boole

ordinary and common matters, the judicious direction whereof never
theless is the wisest doctrine ; for life consisteth not in novelties nor
subtilitics : but contrariwise they have compounded sciences chiefly of
a certain resplendent or lustrous mass of matter, chosen to give glory
either to the subtlety of disputations, or to the eloquence of discourses.
But Seneca givcth an excellent check to eloquence : " Nocet illis
eloquentia, quibus non rcrum cupiditatem facit, sed sui." Doctrine
should be such as should make men in love with the lesson, and not
with the teacher, being directed to the auditor's benefit, and not to the
author's commendation ; and therefore those are of the right kind
which may be concluded as Demosthenes concludes his counsel,
" Qua} si feceritis, non oratorem duntaxat in pra^sentia laudabitis, sed
vosmct ipsos etiam, non ita multo post statu rerum vestrarum meliore.''
Neither needed men of so excellent parts to have despaired of a
fortune, which the poet Virgil promised himself, and indeed obtained,
who got as much glory of eloquence, wit, and learning in the ex
pressing of the observations of husbandry, as of the heroical acts
of ./Eneas :

Nee sum animi dubius, verbis ea vinccre magnum
Quam sit, et angustis hunc addere rebus honorem.

Georg. iii. 289.

And surely if the purpose be in good earnest not to write at leisure
that which men may read at leisure, but really to instruct and suborn
action and active life, these georgics of the mind concerning the
husbandry and tillage thereof, are no less worthy than the heroical
descriptions of virtue, duty, and felicity. Wherefore the main and
primitive division of moral knowledge seemcth to be into the Exem
plar or Platform of Good, and the Regiment or Culture of the Mind ;
the one describing the nature of good, the other prescribing rules how
to subdue, apply, and accommodate the will of man thereunto.

The doctrine touching the Platform or Nature of Good considereth
it cither simple or compared, either the kinds of good, or the degrees
of good ; in the latter whereof those infinite disputations which were
touching the supreme degree thereof, which they term felicity, beati
tude, or the highest good, the doctrines concerning which were as the
heathen divinity, are by the Christian faith discharged. And, as
Aristotle saith, "That young men maybe happy, but not otherwise
but by hope ;" so we must all acknowledge our minority, and embrace
the felicity which is by hope of the future world.

Freed therefore, and delivered from this doctrine of the philoso
phers' heaven, whereby they feigned an higher elevation of man's
nature than was, for we see in what an height of style Seneca writeth,
"Vere magnum, habere fragilitatem hominis, securitatem Dei," we
may with more sobriety and truth receive the rest of their inquiries
and labours ; wherein for the nature of good, positive or simple, they
have set it down excellently, in describing the forms of virtue and
luty with their situations and postures, in distributing them into their
kinds, parts, provinces, actions, and administrations, and the like ;

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 203

nay farther, they have commended them to man's nature and spirit,
with great quickness of argument and beauty of persuasions ; yea, and
fortified and entrenched them, as much as discourse can do, against
corrupt and popular opinions. Again, fcr the degrees and compara
tive nature of good, they have also excellently handled it in their
triplicity of good, in the comparison between a contemplative and
an active life, in the distinction between virtue with reluctation, and
virtue secured, in their encounters between honesty and profit, in
their balancing of virtue with virtue, and the like ; so as this part
deservcth to be reported for excellently laboured.

Notwithstanding if before they had come to the popular and
received notions of virtue and vice, pleasure and pain, and the rest,
they had stayed a little longer upon the inquiry concerning the roots
of good and evil, and the strings of those roots, they had given, in
my opinion, a great light to that which followed ; and specially if
they had consulted with nature, they had made their doctrines less
prolix and more profound : which being by them in part omitted and
in part handled with much confusion, we will endeavour to resume
and open in a more clear manner.

There is formed in everything a double nature of good, the one as
everything is a total or substantive in itself, the other as it is a part
or member of a greater body; whereof the latter is in degree the
greater and the worthier, because it tcndeth to the conservation of a
more general form : therefore we see the iron in particular sympathy
movcth to the loadstone, but yet if it exceed a certain quantity, it
forsakcth the affection to the loadstone, and like a good patriot
movcth to the earth, which is the region and country of massy bodies;
so may we go forward and see that water and massy bodies move to
the centre of the earth, but rather than to suffer a divulsion in the
continuance of nature they will move upwards from the centre of the
earth, forsaking their duty to the earth in regard of their duty to the
world. This double nature of good and the comparative thereof is
much more engraven upon man, if he degenerate not, unto whom the
conservation of duty to the public ought to be much more precious
than the conservation of life and being ; according to that memorable
speech of Pompeius Magnus, when being in commission of pur
veyance for a famine at Rome, and being dissuaded with great
vchemency and instance by his friends about him, that he should
not hazard himself to sea in an extremity of weather, he said only
to them '* Ncccsse est ut earn, non ut vivam:" but it may be truly
affirmed that there was never any philosophy, religion, or other disci
pline, which did so plainly and highly exalt the good which is com
municative, and depress the good which is private and particular, as
the holy faith : well declaring, that it was the same God that gave the
Christian law to men, who gave those laws of nature to inanimate
creatures that we spake of before ; for we read that the elected saints
of God have wished themselves anathematized and razed out of the
book of life, in an ecstacy of charity, and infinite feeling of com
munion.

204 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

This being set down and strongly planted, doth judge and deter,
mine most of the controversies wherein moral philosophy is conver
sant. For first, it decidcth the question touching the preferment of the
contemplative or active life, and decideth it against Aristotle : for all
the reasons which he bringeth for the contemplative, are private, and
respecting the pleasure and dignity of a man's self, in which respects,
no question, the contemplative life hath the pre-eminence ; not much
unlike to that comparison, which Pythagoras made for the gracing and
magnifying of philosophy and contemplation ; who being asked what
he was, answered, "That if Hiero were ever at the Olympian games,
he knew the manner, that some came to try their fortune for the prizes,
and some came as merchants to utter their commodities, and some
came to make good cheer and meet their friends, and some came to
look on, and that he was one of them that came to look on." But men
must know, that in this theatre of man's life, it is reserved only for
God and angels to be lookers on : neither could the like question ever
have been received in the Church, notwithstanding their " Pretiosa in
oculis Domini mors sanctorum ejus ;" by which place they would
exalt their civil death and regular professions, but upon this defence,
that the monastical life is not simply contemplative, but performcth
the duty either of incessant prayers and supplications, which hath been
truly esteemed as an office in the Church, or else of writing or taking
instructions for writing concerning the law of God ; as Moses did when
he abode so long in the mount. And so we see Enoch the seventh
from Adam, who was the first contemplative, and walked with God ;
yet did also endow the Church with prophecy, which St. Jude citeth.
But for contemplation which should be finished in itself, without cast
ing beams upon society, assuredly divinity knoweth it not.

It decideth also the controversies between Zeno and Socrates, and
their schools and successions on the one side, who placed felicity in
virtue simply or attended ; the actions and exercises whereof do chiefly
embrace and concern society ; and on the other side, the Cyrenaics
and Epicureans, who placed it in pleasure, and made virtue, as it is
used in some comedies of errors, wherein the mistress and the maid
change habits, to be but as a servant, without which pleasure cannot
be served and attended : and the reformed school of the Epicureans,
which placed it in serenity of mind and freedom from perturbation ;
as if they would have deposed Jupiter again, and restored Saturn and
the first age, when there was no summer nor winter, spring nor autumn,
but all after one air and season ; and Herillus, who placed felicity in
extinguishment of the disputes of the mind, making no fixed nature of
good and evil, esteeming things according to the clearness of the
desires, or the reluctation ; which opinion was revived in the heresy
of the Anabaptists, measuring things according to the motions of the
spirit, and the constancy or wavering of belief : all which are manifest
to tend to private repose and contentment, and not to point of society.
It censureth also the philosophy of Epictetus, which presupposeth
that felicity must be placed in those things which are in our power,
lest we be liable to fortune and disturbance ; as if it were not a thing

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 205

much more happy to fail in good and virtuous ends for the public,
than to obtain all that we can wish to ourselves in our proper fortune ;
as Consalvo said to his soldiers, showing them Naples and protesting,
" He had rather die one foot forwards, than to have his life secured for
long, by one foot of retreat." Whcreunto the wisdom of that heavenly
leader hath signed, who hath affirmed " that a good conscience is a con
tinual feast ; " showing plainly, that the conscience of good intentions,
howsoever succeeding, is a more continual joy to nature, than all the
provision that can be made for security and repose.

It ccnsurcth likewise that abuse of philosophy, which grew general
about the time of Epictetus, in converting it into an occupation or
profession ; as if the purpose had been not to resist or extinguish per
turbations, but to fly and avoid the causes of them, and to shape a
particular kind and course of life to that end, introducing such an
health of mind, as was that health of body of which Aristotle speaketh
of Herodicus, who did nothing all his life long but intend his health :
whereas if men refer themselves to duties of society, as that health of
body is best, which is ablest to endure all alterations and extremities ;
so likewise that health of mind is most proper, which can go through the
greatest temptations and perturbations. So as Diogcncs's opinion is
to be accepted, who commended not them which abstained, but them
which sustained, and could refrain their mind /// prcecifiitio, and could
give unto the mind, as is used in horsemanship, the shortest stop or
turn.

Lastly, it censurcth the tenderness and want of application in some
of the most ancient and reverend philosophers and philosophical men,
that did retire too easily from civil business, for avoiding of indignities
and perturbations ; whereas the resolution of men truly moral, ought
to be such as the same Consalvo said the honour of a soldier should
be, e tcla crassiore, and not so fine, as that everything should catch
in it and endanger it.

To resume private or particular good, it falleth into the division of
good active and passive : for this difference of good, not unlike to that
which amongst the Romans was expressed in the familiar or house
hold terms of Proinus and Condus, is formed also in all things, and
is best disclosed in the two several appetites in creatures ; the one
to preserve or continue themselves, and the other to dilate or multiply
themselves ; whereof the latter scemeth to be worthier ; for in nature
the heavens, which arc the more worthy, arc the agent ; and the earth,
which is the less worthy, is the patient : in the pleasures of living crea
tures, that of generation is greater than that of food : in divine doctrine,
" Beatius cst dare, quam accipere :" and in life there is no man's spirit
so soft, but estecmcth the effecting of somewhat that he hath fixed in
his desire, more than sensuality. Which priority of the active good
is much upheld by the consideration of our estate to be mortal and
exposed to fortune : for if we might have a perpetuity and certainty
in our pleasures, the state of them would advance their price ; but
when we see it is but " Magni zcstimamus mori tardius," and " Ne
glorieris de crastino, ncscis partum diei/' it inakcth us to desire to

206 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

have somewhat secured and exempted from time, which are only
our deeds and works ; as it is said " Opera eorum sequuntur cos."
The pre-eminence likewise of this active good is upheld by the affec
tion which is natural in man towards variety and proceeding, which
in the pleasures of the sense, which is the principal part of passive
good, can have no great latitude. " Cogita quamdiu eadem feceris :
cibus, somnus, Indus; per hunc circulum curritur. Mori velle non tan-
turn fortis, aut miser, aut prudens, sed etiam fastidiosus potcst." But in
enterprises, pursuits, and purposes of life, there is much variety, where
of men are sensible with pleasure in their inceptions, progressions,
recoils, re-integrations, approaches and attainings, to their ends. So
as it was well said, " Vita sine proposito languida et vaga est." Neither
hath this active good any identity with the good of society, though in
some case it hath an incidence into it : for although it do many times
bring forth acts of beneficence, yet it is with a respect private to a
man's own power, glory, amplification, continuance ; as appeareth
plainly, when it findeth a contrary subject. For thatgigantinc state of
mind which possesseth the troublers of the world, such as was Lucius
Sylla, and infinite other in smaller model, who would of all men happy
or unhappy as they were their friends or enemies, and would give form
to the world according to their own humours, which is the true theo-
machy, pretendeth, and aspireth to active good, though it recedeth
farthest from good of society, which we have -determined to be the
greater.

To resume passive good, it receiveth a subdivision of conservative
and perfective. For let us take a brief review of that which we have
said ; we have spoken first of the good of society, the intention whereof
cmbraccth the form of human nature, whereof we are members and
portions, and not our own proper and individual form ; we have spoken
of active good, and supposed it as a part of private and particular
good. And rightly, for there is impressed upon all things a triple
desire or appetite proceeding from love to themselves ; one of preserv
ing and continuing their form ; another of advancing and perfecting
their form; and a third of multiplying and extending their form upon
other things ; whereof the multiplying or signature of it upon other
things, is that which we handled by the name of active good. So as
there remaineth the conserving of it, and perfecting or raising of it ;
which latter is the highest degree of passive good. For to preserve
in state is the less, to preserve with advancement is the greater. So
in man,

Igncus est ollis vigor, et coclcstis origo.

His approach or assumption to divine or angelical nature is the per
fection of his form ; the error or false imitation of which good, is that
which is the tempest of human life, while man, upon the instinct of an
advancement formal and essential, is carried to seek an advancement
local For as those which are sick, and find no remedy, do tumble up
and down and change place, as if by a remove local they could obtain
a remove internal • so is it with men in ambition, when failing of the

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 207

means to exalt their nature, they are in a perpetual estuation to exalt
their place. So then passive good is, as was said, either conservative
or perfective.

To resume the good of conservation or comfort, which consistcth
in the fruition of that which is agreeable to our natures ; it sccmeth to
be the most pure and natural of pleasures, but yet the softest and the
lowest. And this also recciveth a difference, which hath neither been
well judged of nor well inquired. For the good of fruition and content
ment, is placed either in the sinccrcncss of the fruition, or in the
quickness and vigour of it ; the one superinduced by equality, the other
by vicissitude ; the one having less mixture of evil, the other more
impression of good. Whether of these is the greater good, is a ques
tion controverted ; but whether man's nature may not be capable o/
both, is a question not inquired.

The former question being debated between Socrates and a sophist,
Socrates placing felicity in an equal and constant peace of mind, and
the sophist in much desiring and much enjoying, they fell from argu
ment to ill words : the sophist saying that Socratcs's felicity was the
felicity of a block or stone; and Socrates saying that the sophist's
felicity was the felicity of one that had the itch, who did nothing but
itch and scratch. And both these opinions do not want their supports :
for the opinion of Socrates is much upheld by the general consent even
of the Epicures themselves, that virtue bcarcth a great part in felicity :
and if so, certain it is, that virtue hath more use in clearing perturba
tions, than in compassing desires. The sophist's opinion is much
favoured by the assertion we last spake of, that good of advancement
is greater than good of simple preservation ; because every obtaining
a desire hath a show of advancement, as motion though in a circle
hath a show of progression.

But the second question decided the true way makcth the former
superfluous : for can it be doubted but that there arc some who take
more pleasure in enjoying pleasures, than some other, and yet never
theless arc less troubled with the loss or leaving of them : so as this
same, " Non uti, ut non appctas ; non appetcre, ut non metuas; sunt
animi pusilli et diffidcntis." And it seemeth to me that most of the
doctrines of the philosophers are more fearful and cautionary than the
nature of things requireth : so have they increased the fear of death in
offering to cure it : for when they would have a man's whole life to be
but a discipline or preparation to die, they must needs make men think
that it is a terrible CHcmy against whom there is no end of prepar
ing. Better saith the poet,

Qui fmcm vitce cxtremum inter muncra ponat
Naturae :

So have they sought to make men's minds too uniform and harmonica!,
by not breaking them sufficiently to contrary motions: the reason
whereof I suppose to be, because they themselves were men dedicated
to a private, free, and unapplied course of life. For as we see, upon
the lute or like instrument, a ground, though it be sweet and havo

2oS ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

show of many changes, yet breaketh nst the hand to such strange and
hard stops and passages, as a set song or voluntary : much after the
same manner was the diversity between a philosophical and a civil life.
And therefore men are to imitate the wisdom of jewellers, who if there
be a grain, or a cloud, or an ice which may be ground forth without
taking too much of the stone, they help it ; but if it should lessen and
abate the stone too much, they will not meddle with it ; so ought
men so to procure serenity, as they destroy not magnanimity.

Having therefore deduced the good of man, which is private and
particular, as far as scemeth fit, we will now return to that good of
man which rcspecteth and beholdeth Society, which we may term duty ;
because the term of duty is more proper to a mind well framed and
disposed towards others, as the term of virtue is applied to a mind
well formed and composed in itself; though neither can a man under
stand virtue without some relation to society, nor duty without an in
ward disposition. This part may seem at first to pertain to science
civil and politic, but not if it be well observed; for it concerncth the
regiment and government of every man over himself, and not ovei
others. And as in architecture the direction of the framing the
posts, beams, and other parts of building, is not the same with the
manner of joining them and erecting the building; and in mechanicals,
the direction how to frame an instrument or engine, is not the same
with the manner of setting it on work and employing it ; and yet never
theless in expressing of the one, you incidentally express the aptness
towards the other : so the doctrine of conjugation of men in society
differeth from that of their conformity thereunto.

This part of duty is subdivided into two parts ; the common duty of
every man as a man or member of a state, the other the respective or
special duty of every man in his profession, vocation, and place. The
first of these is extant and well laboured, as hath been said. The
second likewise I may report rather dispersed, than deficient ; which
manner of dispersed writing in this kind of argument I acknowledge
to be best : who can take upon him to write of the proper duty, virtue,
challenge, and right of every several vocation, profession, and place ?
For although sometimes a looker on may see more than a gamester,
and there be a proverb more arrogant than sound, " That the vale best
discovered the hills ; " yet there is small doubt but that men can
write best, and most really and materially in their own professions ;
and that the writing of speculative men of active matter, for the most
part, doth seem to men of experience, as Phormio's argument of the
wars seemed to Hannibal, to be but dreams and dotage. Only there
is one vice which accompanieth them that write in their own profes
sions, that they magnify them in excess ; but generally it were to be
wished, as that which would make learning indeed solid and fruitful,
that active men would or could become writers.

In which I cannot but mention, honoris causa, your majesty's excel
lent book touching the duty of a king, a work richly compounded of
divinity, morality, and policy, with great aspersion of all other arts,
and being in mine opinion one of the most sound and healthful writings

1 1.1 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 209

that I have read, not distempered in the heat of invention, nor in the
coldness of negligence ; not sick of business, as those are who lose
themselves in their order, nor of convulsions, as those which cramp in
matters impertinent ; not savouring of perfumes and paintings, as
those do who seek to please the reader more than nature beareth ; and
chiefly well disposed in the spirits thereof, being agreeable to truth,
and apt for action, and far removed from that natural infirmity where-
unto I noted those that write in their own professions to be subject,
which is, that they exalt it above measure : for your majesty hath
truly described, not a king of Assyria, or Persia, in their extern glory,
but a Moses, or a David, pastors of their people. Neither can I ever
lose out of my remembrance, what I heard your majesty in the same
sacred spirit of government deliver in a great cause of judicature,
which was, " That kings ruled by their laws as God did by the laws of
nature, and ought as rarely to put in use their supreme prerogative,
as God doth his power of working miracles." And yet, notwith
standing, in your book of a free monarchy, you do well give men to
understand, that you know the plenitude of the power and right of a
king, as well as the circle of his office and duty. Thus have I pre
sumed to allcdge this excellent writing of your majesty, as a prime or
eminent example of Tractates concerning special and respective duties,
wherein I should have said as much if it had been written a thousand
years since: neither am I moved with certain courtly decencies, which
esteem it flattery to praise in presence ; no, it is flattery to praise in
absence, that is, when either the virtue is absent, or the occasion is
absent, and so the praise is not natural but forced, either in truth or in
time. But let Cicero be read in his oration pro Marccllo, which is
nothing but an excellent table of Caesar's virtue, and made to his face ;
besides the example of many other excellent persons wiser a great
deal than such observers, and we will never doubt, upon a full occasion,
to give just praises to present or absent.

But to return, there belongeth farther to the handling of this part,
touching the duties of professions and vocations, a relative or opposite
touching the frauds, cautels, impostures, and vices of every profession,
which hath been likewise handled. But how ? Rather in a satire and
cynically, than seriously and wisely; for men have rather sought by
wit to deride and traduce much of that which is good in professions,
than with judgment to discover and sever that which is corrupt. For,
as Solomon saith, he that comcth to seek after knowledge with a mind
to scorn and censure, shall be sure to find matter for his humour, but
no matter for his instruction: " Qua^renti derisori scicntiam, ipsa se
abscondit: sed -.tudioso fit obviam." But the managing of this argu
ment with integrity and truth, which I note as deficient, secmcth to me
to be one of the best fortifications for honesty and virtue that can be
planted. For, as the fable goeth of the basilisk, that if he see you first,
you die for it ; but if you see him first, he dieth : so is it with deceits
and evil arts, which, if they be first espied, lose their life ; but if they
prevent, they endanger. So that we are much beholden to Machiavel
and others, that write what men do, and not what they ought to do i

'4

210 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

for it is not possible to join serpentine wisdom with the columbine
jnnocency, except men know exactly all the conditions of the serpent;
his baseness and going upon his belly, his volubility and lubricity, his
envy and sting, and the rest; that is, all forms and natures of evil:
for without this, virtue lieth open and unfcnced. Nay, an honest
man can do no good upon those that are wicked, to reclaim them,
without the help of the knowledge of evil : for men of corrupted minds
presuppose that honesty groweth out of simplicity of manners, and
believing of preachers, schoolmasters, and men's exterior language.
So as, except you can make them perceive that you know the utmost
reaches of their own corrupt opinions, they despise all morality ;
"Non recipit stultus verba prudentia, nisi ea dixeris, qua? versantur
in corde ejus."

Unto this part touching respective duty doth also appertain the
duties between husband and wife, parent and, child, master and
servant : so likewise the laws of friendship and gratitude, the civil
bond of companies, colleges, and politic bodies of neighbourhood,
and all other proportionate duties ; not as they are parts of govern
ment and society, but as to the framing of the mind of particular
persons.

The knowledge concerning good respecting society doth handle it
also not simply alone, but comparatively, whereunto bclongeth the
weighing of duties between person and person, case and case, parti
cular and public : as we see in the proceeding of Lucius and Brutus
against his own sons, which was so much extolled ; yet what was said ?

Infelix, utcunque fercnt ea fata minorcs.

So the case was doubtful, and had opinion on both sides. Again, we
see when M. Brutus and Cassius invited to a supper certain whose
opinions they meant to feel, whether they were fit to be made their
associates, and cast forth the question touching the killing of a tyrant
being an ursurper, they were divided in opinion, some holding that
servitude was the extreme of evils, and others that tyranny was better
than a civil war ; and a number of the like cases there are of compa
rative duty : amongst which that of all others is the most frequent,
where the question is of a. great deal of good to ensue of a small in
justice, which Jason of Thessalia determined against the truth :
" Aliqua sunt injuste facienda, ut multa juste fieri possint." But the
reply is good, " Auctorem prxsentis justitiaj habes, sponsorem futura?
nonhabes;" men must pursue things which are just in present, and
leave the future to the divine providence. So then we pass on from
this general part touching the exemplar and description of good.

Now therefore that we have spoken of this fruit of life, it remaineth
to speak of the husbandry that belongeth thereunto, without which
part the former seemeth to be no better than a fair image, or
stcitna, which is beautiful to contemplate, but is without life and
motion : whereunto Aristotle himself subscribeth in these words,
Nccesse est scilicet de virtute dicere, et quid sit, et ex quibus
gignatur. Inutile enim fere fuerit, virtutem quidem nosse, acquirenda&

1 1.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

aiitcm ejus modes et vins ignorare : non cnim clc virtutc tantum, qua
specie sit, quit-rendum cst, scd ct quomodo sui copiain facial ; utrum-
quc cnim volumus, et rcm ipsam nosse et cjus compotes fieri ; hoc
autem ex voto non succcdct, nisi sciamus ct ex quilms ct quomodo.'
In such full words and with such iteration doth he inculcate this part :
so saith Cicero in great commendation of Cato the second, that he
had applied himself to philosophy, " non ita disputandi causa, sed ita
vivendi." And although the neglect of our times, wherein few men
do hold any consultations touching the reformation of their life, as
Seneca excellently saith, " DC partibus vitai quisque delil oral, dc
summa nemo," may make this part seem superfluous ; yet I must con
clude with that aphorism of Hippocrates, " Qui gravi morbo corrcpti
dolorcs non scntiunt, iis mcns aegrotat ;" they need medicine not only
to assuage the disease, but to awake the sense. And if it be said, tli.tt
the cure of men's minds bclongeth to sacred divinity, it is most true:
but yet moral philosophy may be preferred unto her as a wise servant
and humble handmaid. For as the Psalm saith, that " the eyes of the
handmaid look perpetually towards the mistress," and yet no doubt
many things arc left to the discretion of the handmaid, to discern of
the mistress's will ; so ought moral philosophy to give a constant
attention to the doctrines of divinity, and yet so as it may yield of
herself, within due limits, many sound and profitable directions.

This part therefore, because of the excellency thereof, I cannot but
find exceeding strange that it is not reduced to written inquiry, the
rather because it consisteth of much matter, wherein both spjcch arc!
action is often conversant, and such wherein the common talk of men,
which is rare, but yet cometh sometimes to pass, is wiser than their
books. It is reasonable therefore that we propound it in the more
particularity, both for the worthiness, and because we may acquit our
selves for reporting it deficient, which sccmeth almost incredible, and
is otherwise conceived and presupposed by those themselves that have
written. We will therefore enumerate some heads or points thereof,
that it may appear the better what it is, and whether it be extant.

First, therefore, in this, as in all things which are practical, we
ought to cast up our account, what is in our power, and what not ; for
the one maybe dealt with by way of alteration, but the other by way of
application only. The husbandman cannot command, neither the
nature of the earth, nor the seasons of the weather, no more can the
physician the constitution of the patient, nor the variety of accidents.
So in the culture and cure of the mind of man, two things arc without
our command ; points of nature, and points of fortune ; for to the
basis of the one, and the conditions of the other, our work is limited
and tied. In these things therefore, it is left unto us to proceed by
application ;

Vinccnda cst omnis fortuna fcrendo :
and so likewise,

Vinccnda est omuis n itur.i fcrcndo.

But when that we speak of suffering, we do not speak of a dull and

212 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Cook

neglected suffering, but of a wise and industrious suffering which
draweth and contrivcth use and advantage out of that which scemeth
adverse and contrary, which is that properly which we call accom
modating or applying. Now the wisdom of application restcth princi
pally in the exact and distinct knowledge of the precedent state or
disposition, unto which we do apply ; for we cannot fit a garment,
except we first take measure of the body.

So then the first article of this knowledge is to set down sound and
true distributions, and descriptions of the several characters and
tempers of men's natures and dispositions, specially having regard to
those differences which are most radical, in being the fountains and
causes of the rest, or most frequent in concurrence or commixture ;
wherein it is not the handling of a few of them in passage, the better
to describe the mediocrities of virtues, that can satisfy this intention :
for if it deserve to be considered, " that there arc minds which are
proportioned to great matters, and others to small," which Aristotle
handleth or ought to have handled by the name of magnanimity, doth
it not deserve as well to be considered, " that there are minds pro
portioned to intend many matters, and others to few ?" So that some
can divide themselves, others can perchance do exactly well, but it
must be but in few things at once ; and so there cometh to be a narrow
ness of mind, as well as a pusillanimity. And again, " that some
minds are proportioned to that which may be despatched at once, or
within a short return of time ; others to that which begins afar off, and
is to be won with length of pursuit,"

Jam turn tenditque fovetque.

So that there may be fitly said to be a longanimity, which is commonly
ascribed to God, as a magnanimity. So farther deserved it to be con
sidered by Aristotle, " that there is a disposition in conversation,
supposing it in things which do in no sort touch or concern a man's
self, to sooth and please ; and a disposition contrary to contradict and
cross;" and deserveth it not much better to be considered, "that there
is a disposition, not in conversation or talk, but in matter of more
serious nature, and supposing it still in things merely indifferent, to
take pleasure in the good of another, and a disposition contrariwise, to
take distaste at the good of another ;" which is that properly which we
call good-nature or ill-nature, benignity or malignity. And therefore I
cannot sufficiently marvel, that this part of knowledge, touching the
several characters of natures and dispositions, should be omitted" both
in morality and policy, considering it is of so great ministry and
suppcditalion to them both. A man shall find in the traditions of
astrology some pretty and apt divisions of men's natures, according to
the predominances of the planets ; lovers of quiet, lovers of action,
lovers of victory, lovers of honour, lovers of pleasure, lovers of arts,
lovers of charge, and so forth. A man shall find in the wisest sort of
these relations, which the Italians make touching conclaves, the natures
of the several cardinals handsomely and lively painted forth ; a man
shall meet with, in every day's conference, the denominations of

11.1 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. **3

sensitive, dry, formal, real, humourous, certain, "huomo di prima
imprcssione, huomo di ultima impressione," and the like : and yet
nevertheless this kind of observations wandereth in words, but is not
fixed in inquiry. For the distinctions are found, many of them, but
we conclude no precepts upon them : wherein our fault is the greater,
because both history, poesy, and daily experience, are as goodly fields
where these observations grow ; whereof we make a few poesies to
hold in our hands, but no man bringeth them to the confectionary,
that receipts might be made of them for the use of life.

Of much like kind arc those impressions of nature, which arc
imposed upon the mind by the sex, by the age, by the region, by health
and sickness, by beauty and deformity, and the like, which are
inherent, and not extern ; and again, those which are caused by ex
tern fortune ; as sovereignty, nobility, obscure birth, riches, want,
magistracy, privateness, prosperity, adversity, constant fortune, variable
fortune, rising /><rr sd Hum per gradits, and the like. And therefore we
see that Plautus maketh it a wonder to see an old man beneficent,
"bcnignitas hujus ut adolcscentuli cst." St. Paul concludcth, that
severity of discipline was to be used to the Cretans, " Increpa cos
durc," upon the disposition of their country, "Cretenses semper men-
daces, make bestiae, venires pigri." Sallust noteth, "that it is usual
with kings to desire contradictories ;" " Scd plcrumquc rcgirc vohmtatcs,
ut vchcmcntcs sunt, sic mobiles, sxpcque ipsa: sibi adversce." Tacitus
observeth how rarely raising of the fortune mcndcth the disposition,
"Solus Vcspasianus mulatus in mclius." Pindarus maketh an obser
vation, that great and sudden fortune for the most part dcfcatcth men,
" Oui magnam fclicitatcm concoqucre non possunt." So the Psalm
showcth it is more easy to keep a measure in the enjoying of fortune,
than in the increase of fortune : " Divitiic si aflluant, nolitc cor
apponcre." These observations, and the like, I deny not but arc
touched a little by Aristotle, as in passage in his Rhetorics, and arc
handled in some scattered discourses ; but they were never incorporate
into moral philosophy to which they do essentially appertain ; as the
knowledge of the diversity of grounds and moulds doth to agriculture,
and the knowledge of the diversity of complexions and constitutions
doth to the physician ; except we mean to follow the indiscretion of
empirics, which minister the same medicines to all patients.

Another article of this knowledge, is the inquiry touching the
affections ; for as in medicining of the body, it is in order first to know
the divers complexions and constitutions ; secondly, the diseases ; and
lastly, the cures ; so in medicining of the mind, after knowledge of the
clivers characters of men's natures, it followeth, in order, to know the
diseases and infirmities of the mind, which arc no other than the per
turbations and distempers of the affections. For as the ancient poli
ticians in popular estates were wont to compare the people to the sea,
and the orators to the winds ; because as the sea would of itself be
calm and quiet, if the winds did not move and trouble it ; so the people
would be peaceable and tractable if the seditious orators did not set
them in working and agitation: so it may be fitly said, that the mind

2I4 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

in the nature thereof would be temperate and stayed, if the affec
tions, as winds, did not put it into tumult and perturbation. And
here again I find strange as before, that Aristotle should have svritten
divers volumes of Ethics, and never handled the affections, which is
the principal subject thereof; and yet in his Rhetorics, where they are
considered but collaterally, and in a second degree, as they may be
moved by speech, he findeth place for them, and handleth them well
for the quantity; but where their true place is, he prctermitteth them.
For it is not his disputations about pleasure and pain that can satisfy
this inquiry, no more than he that should generally handle the nature
of light, can be said to handle the nature of colours; for pleasure and
pain are to the particular affections as light is to particular colours.
Better travels, I suppose, had the Stoics taken in this argument, as far
as I can gather by that which we have at second hand. But yet, it is
like, it was after their manner, rather in subtility of definitions, which,
in a subject of this nature, arc but curiosities, than in active and ample
descriptions and observations. So likewise I find some particular
writings of an elegant nature, touching some of the affections ; as of
anger, of comfort upon adverse accidents, of tenderness, of counte
nance, and other. But the poets and writers of histories are the best
doctors of this knowledge, where we may find painted forth with great
life how affections are kindled and incited; and how pacified and
refrained ; and how again contained from act, and farther degree : how
they disclose themselves ; how they work ; how they vary ; how they
gather and fortify; how they arc inwrappcd one within another ; and
how they do fight and encounter one with another; and other the like
particularities. Amongst the which, this last is of special use in moral
and civil matters : how, I say, to set affection against affection, and to
master one by another, even as we use to hunt beast with beast, and fly
bird with bird, which otherwise pcrcase we could not so easily recover:
upon which foundation is erected that excellent use of pnoniiem and
pa* net, whereby civil states consist, employing the predominant affec
tions of fear and hope, for the suppressing and bridling the rest. For,
as in the government of states, it is sometimes necessary to bridle one
faction with another, so it is in the government within.

Now come we to those points which are within our own command,
and have force and operation upon the mind, to affect the will and
appetite, and to alter manners : wherein they ought to have handled
custom, exercise, habit, education, example, imitation, emulation, com
pany, friends, praise, reproof, exhortation, fame, laws, books, studies :
these as they have determinate use in moralities, for from these the
mind suffereth, and of these are such receipts and regiments com
pounded and described, as may serve to recover or preserve the health
and good estate of the mind, as far as pertaineth to human medicine ;
of which number we will insist upon some one or two, as an example
of the rest, because it were too long to prosecute all ; and therefore we
do resume custom and habit to speak of.

The opinion of Aristotle scemcth to me a negligent opinion, that of
those things which consist by nature, nothing can be changed by cus-

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

torn ; using for example, that if a stone be thrown ten thousand times
up, it will not learn to ascend, and that by often seeing or hearing, we
do not learn to hear or see the better. For though this principle be
true in things wherein nature is peremptory, the reason whereof we can
not now stand to discuss, yet it is otherwise in things wherein nature
admitteth a latitude. For he might see that a straight glove will come
more easily on with use ; and that a wand will by use bend otherwise
than it grew ; and that by use of the voice we speak louder and stronger ;
and that by use of enduring heat or cold, we endure it the better, and
the like ; which latter sort have a nearer resemblance unto that subject
of manners he handlcth, than those instances which he alledgeth. But
allowing his conclusion, that virtues and vices consist in habit, he
ought so much the more to have taught the manner of superinducing
that habit : for there be many precepts of the wise ordering the exer
cises of the mind, as there is of ordering the exercises of the body,
whereof we will recite a few.

The first shall be, that we beware we take not at the first cither too
high a strain, or too weak : for if too high in a diffident nature you dis
courage ; in a confident nature you breed an opinion of facility, and so
a sloth : and in all natures you breed a farther expectation than can
hold out, and so an insatisfaction in the end: if too weak of the other
side, you may not look to perform and overcome any great task.

Another precept is, to practise all things chiefly at two several
times, the one when the mind is best disposed, the other when it is
worst disposed ; that by the one you may give a great step, by the
other you may work out the knots and stonds of the mind, and make
the middle times the more easy and pleasant.

Another precept is that which Aristotle mentioncth by the way,
which is, It) bear ever towards the contrary extreme of that whercunto
we are by nature inclined : like unto the rowing against the stream, or
making a wand straight, by binding him contrary to his natural
crookedness.

Another precept is, that the mind is brought to anything better,
and with more sweetness and happiness, if that whereunto you pretend
be not first in the intention, but tanquam aliud agcndo, because of the
natural hatred of the mind against necessity and constraint. Many
other axioms there are touching the managing of exercise and custom ;
which being so conducted, doth prove indeed another nature ; but being
governed by chance, doth commonly prove but an ape of nature, and
bringeth forth that which is lame and counterfeit.

So if we should handle books and studies, and what influence and
operation they have upon manners, are there not divers precepts of
great caution and direction appertaining thereunto? Did not one of
the fathers in great indignation call poesy vinnm dtniwnnin, because it
incrcascth temptations, perturbations, and vain opinions ? Is not the
opinion of Aristotle worthy to be regarded, wherein he saith, " That
young men arc no fit auditors of moral philosophy, because they are
not settled from the boiling heat of their affections, nor attempered
with time and experience?" And doth it not hereof come, that those

2 1 6 AD VANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

excellent books and discourses of the ancient writers, whereby they
have persuaded unto virtue most effectually, by representing her in
state and majesty ; and popular opinions against virtue in their para
sites coats, fit to be scorned and derided, arc of so little effect towards
honesty of life, because they are not read, and revolved by men in their
mature and settled years, but confined almost to boys and beginners?
But is it not true also, that much less young men are fit auditors of
matters of policy, till they have been thoroughly seasoned in religion
and morality, lest their judgments be corrupted, and made apt to think
that there are no true differences of things, but according to utility
and fortune, as the verse describes it ?

Prosperum et felix scelus virtus vocatur.
And again,

Ille crucem pretium sceleris tulit, hie diadema :

which the poets do speak satirically, and in indignation on virtue's
behalf: but books of policy do speak it seriously and positively ; for it
so pleaseth Machiavel to say, " that if Caesar had been overthrown, he
would hare been more odious than ever was Catiline :" as if there had
been no difference, but in fortune, between a very fury of lust and blood,
and the most excellent spirit, his ambition reserved, of the world?
Again, is there not a caution likewise to be given of the doctrines of mor
alities themselves, some kinds of them, lest they make men too precise,
arrogant, incompatible, as Cicero saith of Cato in Marco Catone:
" Haec bona, quae videmus, divina et egregia, ipsius scitote esse pro-
pria : qua? nonnunquam requirimus, ca sunt omnia non a natura, sed a
magistro ?" Many other axioms and advices there are touching those
proprieties and effects, which studies do infuse and instil into manners.
And so likewise is there touching the use of all those other points, of
company, fame, laws, and the rest, which we recited in the beginning
in the doctrine of morality.

But there is a kind of culture of the mind that seemeth yet more
accurate and elaborate than the rest, and is built upon this ground :
that the minds of all men are sometimes in a state more perfect, and
at other times in a state more depraved. The purpose, therefore, of
this practice is, to fix and cherish the good hours of the mind, and to
obliterate and take forth the evil. The fixing of the good hath been
practised by two means, vows or constant resolutions, and observances
or exercises ; which are not to be regarded so much in themselves, as
because they keep the mind in continual obedience. The obliteration
of the evil hath been practised by two means, some kind of redemption
or expiation of that which is past, and an inception or account tie novo,
for the time to come : but this part seemeth sacred and religious, and
justly ; for all good moral philosophy, as was said, is but an handmaid
to religion.

Wherefore we will conclude with that last point, which is of all
other means the most compendious and summary ; and, again, the
most noble and effectual to the reducing of the mind unto virtue and
good estate ; which is, the electing and propounding unto a man's self

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 217

good and virtuous ends of his life, such as may be in a reasonable sort
within his compass to attain. For if these two things be supposed,
that a man set before him honest and good ends, and again that he be
resolute, constant, and true unto them ; it will follow, that he shall
mould himself into all virtue at once. And this is indeed like the
work of nature, whereas the other course is like the work of the hand :
for as when a carver imkcs an image, he shapes only that part where
upon he workcth, as if he be upon the face, that part which shall be
the body is but a rude stone still, till such time as he comes to it : but,
contrariwise, when nature makes a flower or living creature, she formcth
nidimcnts of all the parts at one time : so in obtaining virtue by habit,
while a man practiscth temperance, he doth not profit much to forti
tude, nor the like ; but when he dcdicattth and applieth himself to
good ends, look, what virtue soever the pursuit and passage towards
those ends doth commend unto him, he is invested of a precedent dis
position to conform himself thereunto. Which state of mind Aristotle
doth excellently express himself, that it ought not to be called virtuous, but
divine: his words arc these," Immanitatiautcm consentancum cst,oppo-
ncrc cam, quae supra humanitatem cst,heroicam sive divinam virtutem."
And a little after,*' Nam ut ferae nequc vitiumneque virtus cst, sic ncque
Dei. Sed hie quidcm status altius quiddam virtute cst,ille aliud quiddam
a vitio." And therefore we may see what celsitude of honour Plinius Se-
cundus attributed! to Trajan in his funeral oration; where he said, " tli.it
men needed make no other prayers to the gods, but that they would con
tinue as good lords to them as Trajan had been ;" as if he had not
been only an imitation of divine nature, but a pattern of it. But these
be heathen and profane passages, having but a shadow of that divine
s'atc of mind, which religion and the holy faith doth conduct men
unto, by imprinting upon their souls charity, which is excellently called
the bond of perfection, because it cornprcher.deth and fastcncth all
virtues together. And as it is elegantly said by Mcnander, of vain
love, which is but a false imitation of divine love, "Amor melior
sophista la?vo ad humanam vitam," that love tcacheth a man to carry
himself better than the sophist or preceptor, which he calleth left-
handed, because, with all his rules and prcccptions, he cannot form
a man so dexterously, nor with that facility, to prize himself, and govern
himself, as love can do : so certainly if a man's mind be truly inflamed
with charity, it doth work him suddenly into greater perfection than all
the doctrine of morality can do, which is but a sophist in comparison
of the other. Nay farther, as Xenophon observed truly, that all other
affections, though they raise the mind, yet they do it by distorting and
uncomcliness of ecstasies or excesses ; but only love doth exalt the
mind, and nevertheless at the same instant doth settle and compose
it: so in all other excellencies, though they advance nature, yet they
are subject to excess. Only charity admittcth no excess ; for so we
sec by aspiring to be like God in power the angels transgressed and
fell ; "Ascendam, et ero similis Altissimo ;" by aspiring to be like
God in knowledge man transgressed and fell ; " Kritis sicut Dii,
icientes bonum et malum :" but by aspiring to a similitude of God

218 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

in goodness, or love, neither man nor angel ever transgressed, or shall
transgress. For unto that imitation we are called ; " Diligite inimicos
vestros, benefacite cis qui oderunt vos, et orate pro perscqucntibus
et calumniantibus vos, ut sitis filii Patris vestri, qui in ccelis est, qui
solem suum oriri facit super bonos et malo-3, et pluit super justos et
injustos." So in the first platform of the divine nature itself, the
heathen religion speakcth thus, " Optimus Maximusj" and the sacred
Scriptures thus, " Misericordia ejus super omnia opera cjus."

Wherefore I do conclude this part of moral knowledge, concerning
the culture and regiment of the mind ; wherein if any man, consider
ing the parts thereof, which I have enumerated, do judge that my
labour is but to collect into an art or science that which hath been
pretermitted by others, as matters of common sense and experience,
he judgeth well : but as Philocrates sported with Demosthenes, " You
may not marvel, Athenians, that Demosthenes and I do differ, for he
drinketh water, and I drink wine." And like as we read of an ancient
parable of the two gates of sleep,

Sunt gcininx somni portne, quarum altera fcrtur
Cornea, qua veris facilis datur cxitus umbris :
Altera candcnti pcrfecta nitens elephanto,
Sed falsa ad coeluin mittunt insomnia manes :

so if we put on sobriety and attention, we shall find it a sure maxim
in knowledge, that the more pleasant liquor, of wine, is the more
vaporous, and the braver gate of ivory sendeth forth the falser dreams.
But we have now concluded that general part of human philosophy
which contcmplateth man segregate, and as he consisteth of body and
spirit. Wherein we may farther note, that there seemcth to be a
relation or conformity between the good of the mind and the good of
the body. For as we divided the good of the body into health, beauty,
strength, and pleasure ; so the good of the mind, inquired in rational
and moral knowledges, tendcth to this, to make the mind sound and
without perturbation; beautiful and graced with decency; and strong
and agile for all duties of life. These three, as in the body, so in the
mind, seldom meet, and commonly sever. For it is easy to observe,
that many have strength of wit and courage, but have neither health
from perturbations, nor any beauty or decency in their doings : some
again have an elegancy and fineness of carriage, which have neither
soundness of honesty, nor substance of sufficiency: and some again
have honest and reformed minds, that can neither become themselves
nor manage business. And sometimes two of them meet, and rarely
all three. As for pleasure, we have likewise determined, that the
mind ought not to be reduced to stupidity, but to retain pleasure ; con
fined rather in the subject of it, than in the strength and vigour of it.

CIVIL Knowledge is conversant about a subject which of all others
is most immersed in matter, and hardliest reduced to axiom. Never
theless, as Cato the Censor said, "that the Romans were like sheep,
for that a man might better drive a flock of them, than one of them ;
for in a flock, if you could get but some few to go right, the rest would

II-l ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 219

follow:" so in that respect moral philosophy is more difficile than
policy. Again, moral philosophy propoundeth to itself the framing
of internal goodness ; but civil knowledge rcquireth only an ex
ternal goodness ; for that as to society sufficed). And therefore it
cometh oft to pass that there be evil times in good governments : for
so we find in the holy story, when the kings were good ; yet it is added,
U3cd adhuc populus non direxerat cor suum ad Dominum Deum
patrum suorum.'' Again, states, as great engines, move slowly, and
are not so soon put out of frame : for as in Egypt the seven good years
sustained the seven bad, so governments for a time well grounded, do
bear out errors following, lint the resolution of particular persons is
more suddenly subverted. These respects do somewhat qualify the
extreme difficulty of civil knowledge.

This knowledge hath three parts, according to the three summary
actions of society, which are, Conversation, Negotiation, and Govern
ment. For man seekcth in society comfort, use, and protection : and
they be three wisdoms of divers natures, which do often sever ; wisdom
of behaviour, wisdom of business, and wisdom of state.

The wisdom of conversation ought not to be over much affected,
but much less despised : for it hath not only an honour in itself, but
an influence also into business and government. The poet saith,
" Nee vultu destruc verba tuo." A man may destroy the force of his
words with his countenance : so may he of his deeds, saith Cicero,
recommending to his brother affability and easy access, " Nil interest
habcrc ostium apertum, vultum clausum." It is nothing won to admit
men with an open door, and to receive them with a shut and reserved
countenance. So, we sec, Atticus, before the first interview between
Ca?sar and Cicero, the war depending, did seriously advise Cicero
touching the composing and ordering of his countenance and gesture.
And if the government of the countenance be of such effect, much
more is that of the speech, and other carriage appertaining to conver
sation ; the true model whereof seemeth to me well expressed by Livy,
though not meant for this purpose ; " Ne aut arrogans videar, aut
obnoxius ; quorum altcrum est alicnnc libcrtatis obliti, altcrum siuu:"
"The sum of behaviour is to retain a man's own dignity, without
intruding upon the liberty of others." On the other side, if behaviour
and outward carriage be intended too much, first it may pass into
affectation, and then " Quid deformius quam sccnam in vitam trans-
fcrre," to act a man's life? But although it proceed not to that
extreme, yet it consumeth time, and cmploycth the mind too much.
And therefore as we use to advise young students from company keep
ing, by saying, " Amici, fures tcmporis ;" so certainly the intending of
the discretion of behaviour is a great thief of meditation. Again, such
as are accomplished in that form of urbanity, please themselves in it,
and seldom aspire to higher virtue ; whereas those that have defect in
it, do seek comeliness by reputation ; for where reputation is, almos*.
everything bccomcth ; but where that is not, it must be supplied by
puntos and compliments. Again, there is no greater impediment of
action, than an over-curious observance of decency, and the guide of

220 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

decency, which is time and season. For as Solomon saith, " Qui
rcspicit ad ventos, non seminat ; et qui rcspicit ad nubes, non metit :''
a man must make his opportunity as oft as find it. To conclude ;
behaviour seemeth to me as a garment of the mind, and to have the
conditions of a garment. For it ought to be made in fashion ; it ought
not to be too curious ; it ought to be shaped so as to set forth any good
making of the mind, and hide any deformity ; and above all, it ought
not to be too strait, or restrained for exercise or motion. But this part
of civil knowledge hath been elegantly handled, and therefore I cannot
report it for deficient.

The wisdom touching Negotiation or Business hath not been
hitherto collected into writing, to the great derogation of learning, and
the pi ofessors of learning. For from this root springeth chiefly that
note or opinion, which by us is expressed in adage to this effect ; that
there is no great concurrence between learning and wisdom. For of
the three wisdoms which we have set down to pertain to civil life, for
wisdom of behaviour, it is by learned men for the most part despised,
as an inferior to virtue, and an enemy to meditation ; for wisdom of
government, they acquit themselves well when they arc called to it,
but that happeneth to few ; but for the wisdom of business, wherein
man's life is most conversant, there be no books of it, except some few
scattered advertisements, that have no proportion to the magnitude of
this subject. For if books were written of this, as the other, I doubt
not but learned men, with mean experience, would far excel men ot
long experience, without learning, and outshoot them in their own bow.

'Neither needeth it at all to be doubted, that this knowledge should
be so variable, as it falleth not under precept ; for it is much less
infinite than science of government, which, we see, is laboured, and in
some part reduced. Of this wisdom, it seemeth, some of the ancient
Romans, in the saddest and wisest times, wrere professors ; for Cicero
rcporteth, that it was then in use for senators that had name and
opinion for general wise men, as Coruncanius, Curius, La?lius, and
many others, to walk at certain hours in the place, and to give audience
to those that would use their advice ; and that the particular citizens
would resort unto them, and consult with them of the marriage of a
daughter, or of the employing of a son, or of a purchase or bargain, or
of an accusation, and every other occasion incident to man's life. So
as there is a wisdom of counsel and advice even in private cases,
arising out of an universal insight into the affairs of the world ; which
is used indeed upon particular cases propounded, but is gathered by
general observation of cases of like nature. For so we see in the book
which Q. Cicero writeth to his brother, "De petitione consulatus,"
being the only book of business, that I know, written by the ancients,
although it concerned a particular action then on foot, yet the sub
stance thereof consisteth of many wise and politic axioms, which
contain not a temporary, but a perpetual direction in the case of popular
elections. But chiefly we may see in those aphorisms which have place
amongst divine writings, composed by Solomon the king, of whom the
Scripture; testify, that his heart was as the sands of the sea, encom-

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 221

passing the world and all worldly matters : we see, I say, not a fe\t
profound and excellent cautions, precepts, positions, extending to much
variety of occasions ; whereupon we will stay a while, offering to con
sideration some number of examples.

Seel ct cunctis sermon ibus, qui dicuntur, ne accommodes aurem tuam. ne forte
audias servum tuurn maledicentem tibi.

Here is recommended the provident stay of inquiry of that which
we would be loath to find : as it was judged great wisdom in Pompcius
Magnus that he burned Sertorius's papers unperuscd.

Vir sapiens, si cum stulto contenderit, sive irascatur, sive ridcat, non invcnict

requiem.

Here is described the great disadvantage which a wise man hath in
undertaking a lighter person than himself, which is such an engage
ment, as whether a man turn the matter to jest, or turn it to heat, or
howsoever he change copy, he can no ways quit himself well of it.

Qui delicate a pueritia nutrit servum suum. postca sentiet cum co;itumacs:n.

Here is signified, that if a man begin too high a pitch in his favours,
it doth commonly end in unkindncss and unthankfulncss.
Vidisti virum velocem in opere suo, coram regibus stabit, nee crit inter ignobiles.

Here is observed, that of all virtues for rising to honour, quickness
of despatch is the best ; for superiors many times love not to have
those they employ too deep or too sufficient, but ready and diligent.

Vidi cunctos viventcs, qm ambulant sub sole, cum adol-jscente sccundo, qui
consurgit pro eo.

Here is expressed that which was noted by Sylla first, and after
him by Tiberius ; " Plures adorant solcm oricntem, quam occident.um
vcl mcridianum."

Si spiritus potestatem habentis oscenderit super te, locum tuum ne dimheiis,
quia curaiio faciet cessire pcccata maxima.

Here caution is given, that upon displeasure, retiring is of all
courses the unfittest ; for a man leavcth things at worst, and dcprivcth
himself of means to make them better.

Erat civitas parva, et pruici in ea viri ; venit contra earn rex mignus, et vailavit
earn, inbtruxitque munitiones per gyrum. et perfecta est obsidio ; inventusque
est in ea vir pauper ct sapiens, et liberavit cam per sapientiam suam, et
nullus deinceps recordatus est hominis illius pauperis.

Here the corruption of states is set forth, that esteem not virtue or
merit longer than they have use of it.

Mollis responsio frangit iram.

Here is noted, that silence or rough answer exaspcrateth ; but an
answer present and temperate pacificth.

Itcr pigrorum, quasi sepes spinarum.

Here is lively represented how laborious sloth proveth in the end ;
for when things arc deferred to the labt instant, and nothing prepared

222 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Boole

beforehand, every step finclcth a brier or an impediment, which
catchctli or stoppeth.

Mcliorest finis orationis, quam principium.

Tlcrc is taxed the vanity of formal speakers, that study more about
prefaces and inducements, than upon the conclusions and issues of
speech.

'.Jiii cognoscit in judicio faciem, non bene facit ; iste ct pro buccclla panis deserct
vcritatein.

Here is noted, that a judge were better be a briber, than a respecter
of persons ; for a corrupt judge offendeth not so lightly as a facile.
Vir pauper calumnians paupcrcs, si mills cst imbri vehement'!, in quo paratur fames.

Here is expressed the extremity of necessitous extortions, figured
in the ancient fable of the full and the hungry horse-leech.

Fons turbatus pcde, et vena corrupta, est Justus cadcns coram impio.

Here is noted, that one judicial and exemplar iniquity in the face
of the world, doth trouble the fountains of justice more than many
particular injuries passed over by connivance.

Qui subtrahit aliquid a patrc et a matre, et dicit hoc non esse peccatum, particep
est homicidii.

Here is noted, that whereas men in wronging their best friends,
use to extenuate their fault, as if they might presume or be bold upon
them, it doth contrariwise indeed aggravate their fault, and turncth it
from injury to impiety.

Noli csse amicus homini iracundo, nee ambulato cum homine furioso.

Here caution is given, that in the election of our friends we do
principally avoid those which are impatient, as those that will espouse
us to many factions and quarrels.

Qui conturbat donmm suam, possidebit vcntum.

Here is noted, that in domcstical separations and breaches men do
promise to themselves quieting of their mind and contentment, but
still they arc deceived of their expectation, and it turneth to wind.

Filius sapiens laetificat patrcm : filius vero stultus moestitia est matri suoe.

Here is distinguished, that fathers have most comfort of the good
proof of their sons ; but mothers have most discomfort of their ill
proof, because women have little discerning of virtue, but of fortune.

Qui celat delictum, quccrit amicitiam ; sed qui altero scrmone, repetit separat
fcederatos.

Here caution is given, that reconcilement is better managed by an
amnesty, and passing over that which is past, than by apologies and
cxcusations.

In omni opere bono erit abundantia ; ubi autem verba sunt plurima, bi frequeuter
egestas

IT.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 223

Here is noted that words and discourse abound most, where there
is idleness and want.

I'rimus in sua causa Justus ; sctl venit altera pars, ft inquirit in cum.

Here is observed that in all causes the first talc posacsseth initrh,
in such sort, that the prejudice thereby wrought will be hardly
removed, except some abuse or falsity in the information be detected.
Verba billnguis quasi simplicia, et ipsa pcrveniunt ad intcrioria ventris.

Here is distinguished, that flattery and insinuation, which sccmcth
set and artificial, sinketh not far ; but that entcrcth deep which hath
show of nature, liberty, and simplicity.

Qui crudit dcrisorcm, ipsc sibi injuriam facit ; et qui arguit impiuin, sibi niaculam
general.

Here caution is given how we tender reprehension to arrogant and
scornful natures, whose manner is to esteem it for contumely, and
accordingly to return it.

Da sapicnti occasionem, et addetur ei sapientia.

Here is distinguished the wisdom brought into habit, and that
which is but verbal, and swimming only in conceit ; for the one upon
the occasion presented is quickened and redoubled, the other is
amazed and confused.

Quomodo in aquis resplendent vultus prospicicntium, sic corda hominum muni-
festa stint prudcntibus.

Here the mind of a wise man is compared to a glass, wherein
the images of all diversity of natures and customs are represented,
from which representation procecdeth that application,

Qui sapit, innumeris moribus aptus erit.

Thus have I staid somewhat longer upon these sentences politic of
Solomon than is agreeable to the proportion of an example, led with a
desire, to give authority to this part of knowledge, which I noted as
deficient, by so excellent a precedent ; and have also attended them
with brief observations, such as to my understanding offer no violence
to the sense, though I know they may be applied to a more divine
use: but it is allowed even in divinity, that some interpretations, yea,
and some writings, have more of the eagle than other ; but taking
them as instructions for life, they might have received large discourse,
if I would have broken them and illustrated them by deducemcnts and
examples.

Neither was this in use only with the Hebrews, but it is generally
to be found in the wisdom of the more ancient times : that as men
found out any observation that they thought was good for life, they
•would gather it and express it in parable, or aphorism, or fable. But for
fables, they were vicegerents and supplies where examples failed : now
that the times abound with history, the aim is better when the mark is
alive. And therefore tbc form of writing, which of all others is the

224 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

fittest for this variable argument of negotiation and occasions, is that
which Machiavel chose wisely and aptly for government ; namely dis
course upon histories or examples: for knowledge drawn freshly, and
in our view, out of particulars, knoweth the way best to particulars
again; and it hath much greater life for practice when the discourse
attendeth upon the example, than when the example attendeth upon
the discourse. For this is no point of order, as it scemeth at first, but
of substance : for when the example is the ground, being set down in
an history at large, it is set down with all circumstances, which may
sometimes control the discourse thereupon made, and sometimes
supply it as a very pattern for action : whereas the examples alledged
for the discourse's sake, are cited succinctly, and without particularity,
and carry a servile aspect towards the discourse which they are brought
in to make good.

But this difference is not amiss to be remembered, that as history
of times is the best ground for discourse of government, such as
Machiavel handleth, so history of lives is the most proper for discourse
of business, because it is more conversant in private actions. Nay,
there is a ground of discourse for this purpose fitter than them both,
which is discourse upon letters ; such as are wise and weighty, as
many are of Cicero " ad Atticum," and others. For letters have a great
and more particular representation of business than either chronicles
or lives. Thus have we spoken both of the matter and form of this
part of civil knowledge, touching negotiation, which we note to be
deficient.

But yet there is another part of this part, which differeth as much
from that whereof we have spoken, as sapere and sibi sapcre ; the one
moving as it were to the circumference, the other to the centre : for
there is a wisdom of counsel, and again there is a wisdom of pressing
a man's own fortune, and they do sometimes meet, and often sever ;
for many are wise in their own ways that are weak for government or
counsel; like ants, which is a wise creature for itself, but very hurtful
for the garden. This wisdom the Romans did take much knowledge
of :: ' Nam pel sapiens," saith the comical poet, " fingit fortunam sibi ; "
and it grew to an adage, " Faber quisque fortune proprirc : " and Livy
attributed! it to Cato the first, " in hoc viro tanta vis animi et ingenii
inerat, ut quocunque loco natus esset, sibi ipse fortunam facturus
videretur."

This conceit or position, if it be too much declared and professed,
hath been thought a thing impolitic and unlucky, as was observed in
Timothcus the Athenian ; who having done many great services to the
estate in his government, and giving an account thereof to the people,
as the manner was, did conclude every particular with this clause,
" and in this Fortune had no part." And it came so to pass that he
never prospered in anything he took in hand afterwards ; for this it.
too high and too arrogant, savouring of that which Ezekiel saith of
Pharaoh, " Dicis, Fluvius est mcus, et ego feci memetipsum :" or of
that which another prophet speaketh, that "men offer sacrifices to
their nets and snares j " and that which the poet expresseth,

II ] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

Dextra milii Dcus, et tclum, quod missile libro,
Nunc adsint.

For these confidences were ever unhallowed and unblessed : and
therefore those that were great politicians indeed ever ascribed their
successes to their felicity, and not to their skill or virtue. For so
Sylla surnamed himself Felix not Magnus: so Cesar laid to the
master of the ship, u Cacsarcm portas et fortunam ejus."

But yet nevertheless these positions, " Faber quisque fortunn? smc ;
Sapiens dominabitur astris ; Invia virtuti nulla est via ;" and the like,
being taken and used as spurs to industry, and not as stirrups ta
:nsolcncy, rather for resolution than for presumption or outward
declaration, have been ever thought sound and good, and arc, no
question, imprinted in the greatest minds, who arc so sensible of this
opinion, as they can scarce contain it within : As we see in Augustus
Ciesar, who was rather diverse from his uncle, than inferior in virtue,
how when he died, he desired his friends about him to give him a
Plaudit e, as if he were conscient to himself that he had played his part
well upon the stage. This part of knowledge we do report also as
deficient ; not but that it is practised too much, but it hath not been
reduced to writing. And therefore lest it should seem to any that it is
not comprehensible by axiom, it is requisite, as we did in the former,
that we set down some heads or passages of it.

Wherein it may appear at the first a new and unwonted argument
to teach men how to raise and make their fortune : a doctrine, wherein
every man perchance will be ready to yield himself a disciple till he
sceth difficulty ; for fortune layeth as heavy impositions as virtue, and
it is as hard and severe a thing to be a true politician, as to be truly
moral. But the handling hereof concerneth learning greatly, both in
honour and in substance : In honour, because pragmatical men may
not go away with an opinion that learning is like a lark, that can
mount, and sing, and please herself, and nothing else ; but may know
that she holdeth as well of the hawk, that can soar aloft, and can also
descend and strike upon the prey. In substance, because it is the
perfect law of inquiry of truth, "that nothing be in the globe of matter,
which should not be likewise in the globe of crystal, or form ;" that is,
that there be not anything in being and action, which should not be
drawn and collected into contemplation and doctrine. Neither doth
learning admire or esteem of this architecture of fortune, otherwise
than as of an inferior work : for no man's fortune can be an end
worthy of his being, and many times the worthiest men do abandon
their fortune willingly for better respects ; but nevertheless fortune, as
an organ of virtue and merit, deserveth the consideration.

First, therefore, the precept which I conceive to be most summary
towards the prevailing in fortune, is to obtain that window which
Momus did require ; who seeing in the frame of man's heart such
angles and recesses, found fault there was not a window to look into
them ; that is, to procure good informations of particulars touching
persons, their natures, their desires and ends, their customs and
fashions, their helps and adva;:fagcs, and «vhcr<;bv they chiefly stand ;

'5

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

s > again their weaknesses and disadvantages, and where they lie most
open and obnoxious ; their friends, factions, and dependencies ; and
again their oppositcs, cnvicrs, competitors, their moods and times,
"'Sola viri mollcs aditus ct tempo ra noras ;" their principles, rules, and
observations, and the like : and this not only of persons but of actions,
what are on foot from lime to time, and how they are conducted,
favoured, opposed, and how they import, and the like. For the
knowledge of present actions is not only material in itself, but withou';
it also the knowledge of persons is very erroneous ; for men chang:-
with the actions, and whilst they are in pursuit they arc one, and when
they return to their nature, they are another. These informations cf
particulars, touching persons and actions, arc as the minor pio-
positions in every active syllogism, for no excellency of observati ins,
which are as the major propositions, can suffice to ground a conclusion
if there be error and mistaking in the minors.

That this knowledge is possible, Solomon is our surely, who saith,
" Consilium in cordc viri, tanquam aqua profunda, scd vir prudens
cxhauriet illud : " And although ihc knowledge ilsclf falleth not under
precept, because it is of individuals, yet the instructions for the
obtaining of it may.

We will begin therefore with ihis precept, according to the ancient
opinion, that the sinews of wisdom are slowness of belief and distrust :
that more trust be given to countenances and deeds than to words ;
and in words rather to sudden passages and surprised words than to
set and purposed words. Neither let that be feared which is said,
Ft'onti nulla fides ; which is meant of a general outward behaviour,
and not of the private and subtle motions and labours of the counte-
nancc and gesture ; which, as Q. Cicero elegantly saith, is animijanua^
" the gate of the mind." None more close than Tiberius, and yet
Tacitus saith of Callus, " Etcnim vullu offensionem conjectaverat."
So again, noting the differing character and manner of his commending
Germanicus and Drusus in the senate, he saith, touching his fashion,
wherein he carried his speech of Germanicus, thus ; " Magis in
spccicm adorna'.is vcrbis, quani ut pcnitus sentire vidcrctur ;" but of
Drusus thus, " Paucioribus, scd intentior, et fida oratione : " and in
another place, speaking of this character of speech when he did any
thing that was gracious and popular, he saith, that in other things he
was " vclut cluctanlium vcrborum : " but then again, " Solutius vero
loqucbatur quando subveniret." So that there is no such artificer of
dissimulation, nor no such commanded countenance, vultus jitssits,
that can sever from a feigned tale some of these fashions, either a
more slight and careless fashion, or more set and formal, or more
tedious and wandering, or coming from a man more drily and hardly.

Neither are deeds such assured pledges, as that they may be
trusted without a judicious consideration of their magnitude and
nature : " Fraus sibi in parvis fidem pnestruit, ut majore emolumento
fallal :" and ihe Italian ihinkelh himself upon Ihe point to be bought
and sold, when he is betlcr used than he was wont to be, without
manifest cause. For small favours, they do but lull men asleep both

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 227

as to caution and as to industry, and are, as Demosthenes callcth
them, " Alimcnta socordia?." So again we see how false the nature of
some deeds are, in that particular which Mutianus practised upon
Antonius Primus, upon that hollow and unfaithful reconcilement which
was made between them : whereupon Mutianus advanced many of the
friends of Antonius : "simul amicis cjus pr.tfccturas ct tribunatus
largitur :" wherein, under pretence to strengthen him, he did desolate
him, and won from him his dependencies.

As for words, though they be, like waters to physicians, full of
flattery and uncertainty, yet they are not to be despised, specially with
the advantage of passion and affection. For so we see Tiberius, upon
a stinging and incensing speech of Agrippina, came a step forth of his
dissimulation, when he said, " You are hurt because you do not reign ;"
of which Tacitus saith, "Audita IUTC raram occulti pcctoris vocem
clicucrc, correptaniijue Gracco versu admonuit : idco la:di, quia non
rcgnaret." And therefore the poet doth elegantly call passions, tor
tures, that urge men to confess their secrets :

Vino tortus ct ira.

And experience showeth, there are few men so true to themselves, and
so settled, but that sometimes upon heat, sometimes upon bravery,
sometimes upon kindness, sometimes upon trouble of mind and weak
ness, they open themselves ; specially if they be put to it with a
counter-dissimulation, according to the proverb of Spain, " Di mentira,
y sacaras vcrdad," "Tell a lie, and find a truth."

As for the knowing of men, which is at second hand from reports :
men's weakness and faults are best known from their enemies, their
virtues and abilities from their friends, their customs and times from
their servants, their conceits and opinions from their familiar friends,
with whom they discourse most. General fame is light, and the
opinions conceived by superiors or equals are deceitful ; for to such,
men are more masked, " Verier fama e domcsticis cmanat."

But the soundest disclosing and expounding of men is, by their
natures and ends ; wherein the weakest sort of men arc best inter
preted by their natures, and the wisest by their ends. For it was both
pleasantly and wisely said, though I think very untruly, by a nuncio of
the pope, returning from a certain nation, where he served as licger ;
whose opinion being asked touching the appointment of one to go in
his place, he wished that in any case they did not send one that was
too wise ; because no very wise man would ever imagine, what they in
that country were like to do : and certainly it is an error frequent for
men to shoot over, and to suppose deeper ends, and more compass
reaches than arc : the Italian proverb being elegant, and for the most
part true,

Di dinar!, di scnno, c di fcde,

Cc* n6 manco chc non crcdi :

" There is commonly less money, less wisdom, and less good faith,
than men do account upon."

lint princes, upon a far other reason, are best interpreted by their

223 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

natures, and private persons by their ends : for princes being at the
top of human desires, they have for the most part no particular ends
whereto they aspire, by distance from which a man might take measure
and scale of the rest of their actions and desires ; which is one of the
causes that makcth their hearts more inscrutable. Neither is it suffi
cient to inform ourselves in men's ends and natures of the variety of
them only, but also of the predominancy, what humour reigneth most,
and what end is principally sought. For so we see, when Tigellinus
saw himself out-stripped by Petronius Turpilianus in Nero's humours
of pleasures ; " mctus cjus rimatur," he wrought upon Nero's fears,
whereby he broke the other's neck.

But to all this part of inquiry, the most compendious way restcth
in three things ; the first, to have general acquaintance and inwardness
with those which have general acquaintance, and look most into the
world ; and especially according to the diversity of business, and the
diversity of persons, to have privacy and conversation with some one
friend at least, which is perfect and well intelligenccd in every several
kind. The second is, to keep a good mediocrity in liberty of speech
and secrecy : in most things liberty, secrecy where it importeth ; for
liberty of speech invite'.h ana provoketh liberty to be used again, and
so bringeth much to a man's knowledge ; and secrecy, on the other
side, induceth trust and inwardness. The last is the reducing of a
man's self to this watchful and serene habit, as to make account and
purpose, in every conference and action, as well to observe as to act.
For as Epictetus would have a philosopher in every particular action
to say to himself, " Et hoc volo, et etiam institutum servare : " so a
politic man in everything should say to himself, " Et hoc volo, ac etiam
aliquid addiscere." I have stayed the longer upon this precept of
obtaining good information ; because it is a main part by itself, which
inswereth to all the rest. But above all things caution must be taken,
Jhat men have a good stay and hold of themselves, and that this much
knowing do not draw on much meddling : for nothing is more unfortu
nate than light and rash intermeddling in many matters. So that this
variety of knowledge tcndeth in conclusion but only to this, to make a
better and freer choice of those actions which may concern us, and to
conduct them with the less error and the more dexterity.

The second precept concerning this knowledge, is for men to take
good information touching their own persons, and well to understand
themselves : knowing that, as St. James saith, though men look oft in
a glass, yet they do suddenly forget themselves ; wherein as the divine
glass is the word of God, so the politic glass is the state of the world,
or times wherein we live, in the which we are to behold ourselves.

For men ought to take an impartial view of their own abilities and
virtues ; and again of their wants and impediments ; accounting these
with the most ; and those other with the least ; and from this view
and examination, to frame the considerations following.

First, to consider how the constitution of their nature sorteth
with the general state of the times ; which if they find agreeable and
fit then in all things to give themselves more scope and liberty ; but if

AD VA A CEMENT OF LEARNING. 229

differing and dissonant, then in the whole course of their life to b€
more close, retired, and reserved : as we see in Tiberius, who was
never seen at a play, and came not into the senate in twelve of his last
years ; whereas Augustus Caesar lived ever in men's eyes, which Taci
tus observeth : " Alia Tiberio morum via."

Secondly, to consider how their nature sorteth with professions and
courses of life, and accordingly to make election, if they be free ; and,
if engaged, to make the departure at the first opportunity, as we see
was done by duke Valentine, that was designed by his father to a
sacerdotal profession, but quitted it soon after in regard of his parts
and inclination ; being such nevertheless, as a man cannot tell well
whether they were worse for a prince or for a priest.

Thirdly, to consider how they sort with those whom they are like
to have competitors and concurrents, and to take that course wherein
there is most solitude, and themselves like to be most eminent ; as
Julius Caesar did, who at first was an orator or pleader ; but when he
saw the excellency of Cicero, Hoitensius, Catulus, and others, for
eloquence, and saw there was no man of reputation for the wars but
Pompeius, upon whom the state was forced to rely ; he forsook his
course begun toward a civil and popular greatness, and transferred his
designs to a martial greatness.

Fourthly, in the choice of their friends and dependences, to proceed
according to the composition of their own nature; as we may see in
Caesar ; all whose friends and followers were men active and effectual,
but not solemn, or of reputation.

Fifthly, to take special heed how they guide themselves by examples,
in thinking they can do as they see others do ; whereas perhaps their
natures and carriages are far differing. In which error it scemeth
Pompey was, of whom Cicero saith, that he was wont often to say,
" Sylla potuit, ego non potero?" Wherein he was much abused, the
natures and proceedings of himself and his example being the unlikest
in the world ; the one being fierce, violent, and pressing the fact ; the
other solemn, and full of majesty and circumstance; and therefore the
less effectual.

But this precept touching the politic knowledge of ourselves, hath
many other branches whereupon we cannot insist.

Next to the well understanding and discerning of a man's self,
there followcth the well opening and revealing a man's self ; wherein
we sec nothing more usual than for the more able man to make the
less show. For there is a great advantage in the well setting forth of
a man's virtues, fortunes, merits ; and again, in the artificial covering
of a man's weaknesses, defects, disgraces, staying upon the one, sliding
from the other ; cherishing the one by circumstances, gracing the
other by exposition, and the like ; wherein we see what Tacitus saith
of Mutianus, who was the greatest politician of his time, " Omnium,
quae dixerat, feceratquc, arte quadam ostentator;" which requircth
indeed some art, lest it turn tedious and arrogant ; but yet so, as osten
tation, though it be to the first degree of vanity, scemeth to me rather
a, vice in manners than in policy : for as it is said, " Audactur calum-

230 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Rook

niare, semper aliquid hoeret ; " so except it be in a ridiculous degree of
deformity, "Audactur te vendita, semper aliquid haeret." For it will
stick with the more ignorant and inferior sort of men, though men of
wisdom and rank do smile at it, and despise it ; and yet the authority
won with many, doth countervail the disdain of a few. But if it be
carried with decency and government, as with a natural, pleasant, and
ingenuous fashion, or at times when it is mixed with some peril and
unsafely, as in military persons, or at times when others are most
envied ; or with easy and careless passage to it and from it, without
dwelling too long, or being too serious ; or with an equal freedom of
taxing a man's self, as well as gracing himself; or by occasion of
repelling or putting down others' injury or insolence ; it doth greatly
add to reputation : and surely not a few solid natures that want this
vcntosity, and cannot sail in the height of the winds, are not without
some prejudice and disadvantage by their moderation.

But for these flourishes and enhancements of virtue, as they are
not perchance unnecessary, so it is at least necessary that virtue be not
disvalued and embascd under the just price, which is clone in three
manners ; by offering and obtruding a man's self, wherein men think
he is rewarded, when he is accepted : by doing too much, which
will not give that which is well done leave to settle, and in the end
induccth satiety : and by finding too soon the fruit of a man's virtue
in commendation, applause, honour, favour ; wherein if a man be
pleased with a little, let him hear what is truly said ; " Cave ne insuctus
rebus majoribus videaris, si hrcc te res parva, sicuta magna, delectat."

But the covering of defects is of no less importance than the valu
ing of good parts : which may be done likewise in three manners, by
caution, by colour, and by confidence. Caution is, when men do
ingeniously and discreetly avoid to be put into those things for which
they are not proper : whereas contrariwise, bold and unquiet spirits
will thrust themselves into matters without difference, and so publish
and proclaim all their wants : colour is, when men make a way for
themselves, to have a construction made of their faults or wants, as
proceeding from a better cause, or intended for some other purpose:
for of the one it is well said,

Sxpe latet vitium proximitate boni.

And therefore whatsoever want a man hath, he must see that he pre
tend the virtue that shadoweth it ; as if he be dull, he must affect
gravity ; if a coward, mildness ; and so the rest. For the second, a
man must frame some probable cause why he should not do his best
and why he should dissemble his abilities ; and for that purpose must
use to dissemble those abilities which are notorious in him, to give
colour that his true wants arc but industries and dissimulations. For
confidence, it is the last, but surest remedy ; namely, to depress and
seem to despise whatsover a man cannot attain, observing the good
principle of the merchants, who endeavoured to raise the price of their
own commodities and to beat down the price of others. But there is
a confidence that passeth this other, which is? to face out a man's

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 231

own defects, in seeming to conceive that he is best in those things
wherein he is failing ; and, to help that again, to seem on the other
side that he hath least opinion of himself in those things wherein he
is best ; like as we shall see it commonly in poets, that if they show
their verses, and you except to any, they will say," that that line cost
them more labour than any of the rest ; " and presently will seem to
disable and suspect rather some other line, which they know well
enough to be the best in the number. But above all, in this righting
and helping of a man's self in his own carriage, he must take heed he
show not himself dismantled, and exposed to scorn and injury, by too
much dulrvncss, goodness, and facility of nature, but show some
sparkles of liberty, spirit, and edge: which kind of fortified carriage,
with a ready rescuing of a man's self from scorns, is sometimes of
necessity imposed upon men by somewhat in their person or fortune,
but it e\x. succcedcth with good felicity.

Another precept of this knowledge is, by all possible endeavour to
frame the mind to be pliant and obedient to occasion ; for nothing
hindereth men's fortunes so much as this : " Idem mancbat, ncquc idem
deccbat." Men arc where they were, when occasions turn ; and there
fore to Cato, whom Livy maketh such an architect of fortune, he
addcth, that he had versatile ingcniitin. And thereof it comcth, that
these grave solemn wits, which must be like themselves, and cannot
make departures, have more dignity than felicity. But in some it is
nature to be somewhat viscous and in\\ rapped, and not easy to turn.
In some it is a conceit, that is almost a nature, which is, that men can
hardly make themselves believe that they ought to change their course,
when they have found good by it in former experience ; for Machiavel
notcth wisely, how Fabius Maximus would have been temporizing still,
according to his old bias, when the nature of the war was altered, and
required hot pursuit. In some other it is want of point and penetra
tion in their judgment, that they do not discern when things have a
period, but come in too late after the occasion ; as Demosthenes com-
parcth the people of Athens to country fellows, when they play in a
fence school, that if they have a blow, then they remove their weapon to
that ward, and not before. In some other it is a loalhncss to lose
labours passed, and a conceit that they can bring about occasions to
their ply ; and yet in the end, when they sec no other remedy, then
they come to it with disadvantage ; as Tarquinius, that gave for the
third part of Sibylla's books the treble price, when he might at first
have had all three for the simple. But from whatsoever root or cause
this rcstivcness of mind procccdcth, it is a thing most prejudicial,
and nothing is more politic than to make the wheels of our mind con
centric and voluble with the wheels of fortune.

Another precept of this knowledge, which hath some affinity with
that we last spake of, but with difference, is that which is well expressed'
" fatis accede dcisque," that men do not only turn with the occasions,
but also run with the occasions, and not strain their credit or strength
to over- hard or extreme points ; but choose in their action that which
IS most passable : for this will preserve men from foil, and not occupy

232 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

them too much about one matter, win opinion of moderation, please
the most, and make a show of perpetual felicity in all they undertake ;
which cannot but mightily increase reputation.

Another part of this knowledge seemeth to have some repugnancy
with the former two, but not as I understand it, and it is that which
Demosthenes uttered in high terms : " Et quemadmodum receptum
est, ut exercitum ducat imperator sic et a cordatis viris res ipsas du-
cendae ; ut qua? ipsis videntur, ea gerantur, et non ipsi eventus tantum
persequi cogantur.'' For, if we observe, we shall find two differing
kinds of sufficiency in managing of business : some can make use of
occasions aptly and dexterously, but plot little : some can urge and
pursue their own plots well, but cannot accommodate nor take in ;
either of which is very imperfect without the other.

Another part of this knowledge is the observing a good mediocrity
in the declaring, or not declaring a man's self : for although depth of
secrecy, and making way, "qualis est via navis in mari," which the
French calleth " sourdes mendes," when men set things in work without
opening themselves at all, be sometimes both prosperous and admir
able, yet many times " Dissimulatio errores parit, qui dissimulatorem
ipsum illaqueant." And therefore, we see, the greatest politicians
have in a natural and free manner professed their desires, rather than
been reserved and disguised in them : for so we see that Lucius Sylla
made a kind of profession, "that he wished all men happy or unhappy,as
they stood his friends or enemies." So Ca:sar, when he went first into
Gaul, made no scruple to profess, "that he had rather be first in a
village, than second at Rome." So again, as soon as he had begun
the war, we see what Cicero saith of him, ''Alter," meaning of Caesar,
" non recusat, sed quodamodo postulat, ut, ut est, sic appelletur, tyran-
nus." So we may see in a letter of Cicero to Atticus, that Augustus
Caesor, in his very entrance into affairs, when he was a darling of the
senate, yet in his harangues to the people would swear, " Ita parentis
honores consequi liceat" (which was no less than the tyranny), save
that, to help it, he would stretch forth his hand towards a statue of
Caesar's, that was erected in the same place : and men laughed, and
wondered, and said, Is it possible, or. Did you ever hear the like? and
yet thought he meant no hurt, he did it so handsomely and ingenuously.
And all these were prosperous : whereas Pompey, who tended to the
same ends, but in a more dark and dissembling manner, as Tacitus
saith of him, "Occultior, non melior," wherein Sallust concurreth, "ore
probo, animo inverecundo," made it his design, by infinite secret
engines, to cast the state into an absolute anarchy and confusion, that
the state might cast itself into his arms for necessity and protection,
and so the sovereign power be put upon him, and he never seen in it :
and when he had brought it, as he thought, to that point when he was
chosen consul alone, as never any was, yet he could make no great
matter of it, because men understood him not ; but was fain in the end
to go the beaten track of getting arms into his hands, by colour of the
doubt of Caesar's designs : so tedious, casual, and unfortunate are these
deep dissimulations ; whereof, it seemeth, Tacitus made this judgment,

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 233

that they were a cunning of an inferior form in regard of true policy,
attributing the one to Augustus, the other to Tiberius, where, speaking
of Livia, he saith, " Et cum artibus mariti simulationc filii bcnc com-
posita ;"for surely the continual habit of dissimulation is but a weak
and sluggish cunning, and not greatly politic.

Another precept of this architecture of fortune is, to accustom our
minds to judge of the proportion or value of things, as they conduce
and arc material to our particular ends ; and that to do substantially
and not superficially. For we shall find the logical part, as I may
term it, of some men's minds good, but the mathematical part
erroneous ; that is, they can well judge of consequences, but not of
proportions and comparisons, preferring things of show and sense
before things of substance and effect. So some fall in love with access
to princes, others with popular fame and applause, supposing they are
things of great purchase ; when, in many cases, they arc but matters
of envy, peril, and impediment.

So some measure things according to the labour and difficulty, or
assiduity, which are spent about them ; and think if they be ever
moving, that they must needs advance and proceed : as Caesar saith in a
despising manner of Cato the second, when he dcscribcth how laborious
and indefatigable he wasto nogreat purpose ; " Ha?c omnia magno studio
agcbat." So in most things men are ready to abuse themselves in
thinking the greatest means to be best, when it should be the fittest.

As for the true marshalling of men's pursuits towards their fortune,
as they are more or less material, I hold them to stand thus : first, the
amendment of their own minds ; for the remove of the impediments
of the mind will sooner clear the passages of fortune, than the obtain
ing fortune will remove the impediments of the mind. In the second
place I set down wealth and means, which, I know, most men would
nave placed first, because of the general use which it bcarcth towards
all variety of occasions. But that opinion I may condemn with like
reason as Machiavcl doth that other, that moneys were the sinews of
the wars, whereas, saith he, the true sinews of the wars are the sinews
of men's arms, that is, a valiant, populous, and military nation ; and he
voucheth aptly the authority of Solon, who, when Croesus showed him
his treasury of gold, said to him, that if another came that had better
iron, he would be master of his gold. In like manner it may be truly
affirmed, that it is not moneys that arc the sinews of fortune, but it is
the sinewsand steel of men's minds, wit, courage, audacity, resolution,
temper, industry, and the like. In third place I set down reputation,
bccausa of the peremptory tides and currents it hath, which, if they be
not taken in their due time, are seldom recovered, it being extreme
hard to play an after-game of reputation. And lastly I place honour,
which is more easily won by any of the other three, much more by all,
than any of them can be purchased by honour. To conclude this
precept, as there is order and priority in matter, so is there in time,
the preposterous placing whereof is one of the commonest errors, while
men fly to their ends whcr they should intend their beginnings; and
do 'not take things in order of time as they come on, but marshal them

23 \ ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

ac cording to greatness, and not according to instance, not observing
the good precept, " Quod mine instat agamus."

Another precept of this knowledge is, not to embrace any matters
which do occupy too great a quantity of time, but to have that sound
ing in a man's ears, " Sod fugit interea, fugit irreparabile tempus :" and
that is the cause why those which take their course of rising by
professions of burden, as lawyers, orators, painful divines, and the like,
are not commonly so politic for their own fortunes, otherwise than in
their ordinary way, because they want time to learn particulars, to
wait occasions, and to devise plots.

Another precept of this knowledge is, to imitate nature, which doth
nothing in vain : which surely a man may do if he do well interlace his
business, and bend not his mind too much upon that which he princi
pally intendeth. For a man ought in every particular action so to
carry the motions of his mind, and so to have one thing under another,
as if he cannot have that he seeketh in the best degree, yet to have it
in a second, or so in a third ; and if he can have no part of that which
he purposed, yet to turn the use of it to somewhat else ; and if he
cannot make anything of it for the present, yet to make it as a seed of
somewhat in time to come ; and if he can contrive no effect or substance
from it, yet to win some good opinion by it, or the like. So that he
should exact an account of himself of every action, to reap somewhat,
and not to stand amazed and confused if he fail of that he chiefly
meant : for nothing is more impolitic than to mind actions wholly one
by one ; for he that doth so, loseth infinite occasions which intervene,
and are many times more proper and propitious for somewhat that he
shall need afterwards, than for that which he urgcth for the present ;
and therefore men must be perfect in that rule, " Hrcc oportct faccrc,
ct ilia non omittcre."

Another precept of this knowledge is, not to engage a man's self
peremptorily in anything, though it seem not liable to accident, but
ever to have a window to fly out at, or a way to retire; following the
wisdom in the ancient fable of the two frogs, which consulted when
their plash was dry whither they should go, and the one moved to go
down into a pit, because it was not likely the water would dry there,
but the other answered, "True, but if it do, how shall we get out again ?"

Another precept of this knowledge is, that ancient precept of Bias,
construed not to any point of pcrfkliousncss, but only to caution and
moderation, " Et ama tanquam inimicus futurus, et odi tanquam
amaturus :" for it utterly bctrayeth all utility, for men to embark them
selves too far into unfortunate friendships, troublesome spleens, and
childish and humourous envies or emulations.

But I continue this beyond the measure of an example, led, because
I would not have such knowledges, which I note as deficient, to be
thought things imaginative, or in the air ; or an observation or two
much made of, but things of bulk and mass, whereof an end is hardlier
made than a beginning. It must be likewise conceived that in those
points which I mention and set down, they are far from complete
tractates of them, but only as small pieces for patterns : and lastly,

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 235

no man, I suppose, will think that I mean fortunes are not obtained
without all this ado ; for I know they come tumbling in some men's
laps, and a number obtain good fortunes by diligence in a plain way,
little intermeddling, and keeping themselves from gross errors.

But as Cicero, when he sctteth down an idea of a perfect orator,
doth not mean that every pleader should be such ; and so likewise,
when a prince or a courtier hath been described by such as have
handled those subjects, the mould hath used to be made according to
the perfection of the art, and not according to common practice : so I
understand it, that it ought to be done in the description of a politic
man, I mean politic for his own fortune.

But it must be remembered all this while, that the precepts which
we have set down are of that kind which may be counted and calleV
bona artes. As for evil arts, if a man would set down for himself thai
principle of Machiavel, " that a man seek not to attain virtue itself,
but the appearance only thereof; because the credit of virtue is a help,
but the use of it is cumber:" or that other of his principles, " that he
presuppose that men are not fitly to be wrought otherwise but by fear,
and therefore that he seek to have every man obnoxious, low, and in
strait," which the Italians call "seminar spine," to sow thorns : or that
other principle contained in the verse which Cicero citeth, " Cadant
amici, dummodo inimici intcrcidant," as the Triumvirs, which sold,
every one to other, the lives of their friends, for the deaths of their
enemies : or that other protestation of L. Catilina, to set on fire, and
trouble states, to the end to fish in droumy waters, and to unwrap
their fortunes, " Ego si quid in fortunis meis excitatum sit inccndium,
id non aqua, scd ruina rcstinguam :" or that other principle of Lysander,
" that children are to be deceived with comfits, and men with oaths :"
and the like evil and corrupt positions, whereof, as in all things, there
are more in number than of the good : certainly, with these dispensa
tions from the laws of charity and integrity, the pressing of a man's
fortune may be more hasty and compendious. But it is in life as it is
in ways, the shortest way is commonly the foulest, and surely the fairer
way is not much about.

But men, if they be in their own power, and do bear and sustain
themselves, and be not carried away with a whirlwind or tempest of
ambition, ought, in the pursuit of their own fortune, to set before their
eyes, not only that general map of the world, that " all things are
vanity and vexation of spirit," but many other more particular cards
and directions : chiefly that, that being, without well-being, is a curse,
and the greater being the greater curse ; and that all virtue is most
rewarded, and all wickedness most punished in itself : according as
the poet saith excellently :

Quce vobis, qucc digna, viri, pro laudibus istis
I'ramia posse rear solvi ? pulcherrima primum
Dii moresque dabunt vestri.

And so of the contrary. And, secondly, they ought to look up to the
eternal providence and divine judgment, which often subverteth the
wisdom of evil plots and imaginations, according to that Scripture,

236 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Bool;

"He hath conceived mischief, and shall bring forth a vain thing."
And although men should refrain themselves from injury and evil arts,
yet this incessant and Sabbathless pursuit of a man's fortune leaveth
not that tribute which we owe to Cod of our time : who, we see,
dcmandeth a tenth of our substance, and a seventh, which is more
strict, of our time : and it is to small purpose to have an erected face
towards heaven, and a perpetual grovelling spirit upon earth, eating
dust, as doth the serpent, " Atque aftigit humo divinoj particulam
aura;." And if any man flatter himself that he will employ his for
tune well, though he should obtain it ill, as was said concerning
Augustus Cxsnr, and after of Septimus Severus, " that cither they
should nevei have been born, or else they should never have died,"
they did so much mischief in the pursuit and ascent of their greatness,
and so much good when they were established : yet these compensa
tions and satisfactions are good to be used, but never good to be pur
posed. And, lastly, it is not amiss for men in their race towards their
fortune, to cool themselves a little with that conceit which is elegantly
expressed by the emperor Charles the fifth, in his instructions "to the
king his son, u that fortune hath somewhat of the nature of a woman,
that if she be too much wooed, she is the farther otT." But this last
is but a remedy for those whose tastes are corrupted : let men rather
build upon that foundation which is as a corner-stone of divinity and
philosophy, wherein they join close, namely, that same Primum
qntrntf. For divinity saith, " Primum qucente regnum Dei, et ista
omnia adjicientur vobis :" and philosophy saith, "Primum qiuvrite
bonam amini caMera aut aderunt, aut non obcrunt.'' And although
the human foundation hath somewhat of the sands, as we see in M.
Brutus, when he brake forth into that speech,

To colui, virtus, ut rcm : ast tu nomcn inane es :

yet the divine foundation is upon the rock. But this may serve for a
taste of that knowledge which I noted as deficient.

Concerning government, it is a part of knowledge, secret and
retired in both these respects, in which things are deemed secret ; for
some things are secret because they are hard to know, and some
because they are not fit to utter ; we see all governments arc obscure
and invisible.

Totaniquc infusa per artus
Mens ngit.U niolom, et niagno so corpore miscet.

Such is the description of governments : we see the government of
God over the world is hidden, insomuch as it secmeth to" participate of
much irregularity and confusion : the government of the soul in mov
ing the body is inward and profound, and the passages thereof hardly
to be reduced to demonstration. Again, the wisdom of antiquity, the
shadows whereof are in the poets, in the description of torments and
pains, next unto the crime of rebellion, which was the giants' offence,
doth detest the crime of futility, as in Sisyphus and Tantalus. But
this was meant of particulars ; nevertheless, even unto the general

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 237

rules and discourses of policy and government there is due a reverent
and reserved handling.

But, contrariwise, in the governors towards the governed, all
things ought, as far as the frailty of man pcrmittcth, to be manifest
and revealed. For so it is expressed in the Scriptures touching the
government of God, that this globe which sccmeth to us a dark and
shady body, is in the view of God as crystal, " Et in conspectu scdis
tanquam marc vitrcum simile crystallo." So unto princes and states,
specially towards wise senates and councils, the natures and disposi
tions of the |x.»ople, their conditions and necessities, their factions and
combinations, their animosities and discontents, ought to be, in regard
of the variety of their intelligences, the wisdom of their observations,
and the height of the station where they kept ccntincl, in great part
clear and transparent. Wherefore, considering that I write to a king
ihat is a master of this science, and is so well assisted, I think it decent
to pass over this part in silence, as willing to obtain the certificate
which one of the ancient philosophers aspired unto ; who being silent,
when others contended to make demonstration of their abilities by
speech, desired it might be certified for his part, " that there was one
that knew how to " hold his peace.''

Notwithstanding, for the more public part of government, which is
laws, I think good to note only one dcficiencc : which is, that all those
which have written of laws, have written cither as philosophers, or as
lawyers, and none as statesmen. As for the philosophers, they make
imaginary laws for imaginary commonwealths, and their discourses
arc as the stars, which give little light, because they are so high. For
the lawyers, they write according to the states where they live, what is
received law, and not what ought to be law ; for the wisdom of a law
maker is one, and of a lawyer is another. For there arc in nature
certain fountains of justice, whence all civil laws arc derived but as
streams : and like as waters do take tinctures and tastes from the soils
through which they run, so do civil laws vary according to the regions
and governments where they are planted, though they proceed from
the same fountains. Again, the wisdom of a law-maker consisteth
not only in a platform of justice, but in the application thereof ; taking
into consideration by what means laws may be made certain, and
what are the causes and remedies of the doubtfulness and inccrtainty
of la\v ; by what means law may be made apt and easy to be executed,
and what arc the impediments and remedies in the execution of laws ;
what influence laws touching private right of inenin and /////;// have
into the public state, and how they may be made apt and agreeable;
how laws are to be penned and delivered, whether in texts or in acts,
brief or large, with preambles or without ; how they arc to be pruned
and reformed from time to time, and what is the best means to keep
them from being too vast in volumes, or too full of multiplicity or
Crossness: how they are to be expounded, when upon causes emergent,
and judicially discussed : and when upon responses and conferences
touching general points or questions ; how they are to be pressed,
rigorously or tenderly ; how they are to be mitigated by equity and

238 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

good conscience, and whether discretion and strict law are to be
mingled in the same courts, or kept apart in several courts ; again,
how the practice, profession, and erudition of law is to be censured
and governed; and many other points touching the administration,
and, as I may term it, animation of laws. Upon which I insist the
less, because I propose, if God give me leave, having begun a work of
this nature, in aphorisms, to propound it hereafter, noting it in the
mean time for deficient.

And for your majesty's laws of England, I could say much of their
dignity, and somewhat of their defect ; but they cannot but excel the
civil laws in fitness for the government : for the civil law was, " Non
hos quxsitum munus in usus ;" it was not made for the countries
which it govcrneth : hereof I cease to speak, because I will not inter
mingle matter of action with matter of general learning.

THUS have I concluded this portion of learning touching civil
knowledge, and with civil knowledge have concluded human philo
sophy ; and with human philosophy, philosophy in general ; and
being now at some pause, looking back into that I have passed
through, this writing seemed! to me, si nunquam fallit imago, as far
as a man can judge of his own work, not much better than that noise
or sound which musicians make while they are in tuning their instru
ments, which is nothing pleasant to hear, but yet is a cause why the
music is sweeter afterwards. So have I been content to tune the
instrument of the Muses, that they may play that have better hands.
And surely, when I set before me the condition of these times, in
which learning hath made her third visitation or circuit in all the
qualities thereof ; as the excellency and vivacity of the wits of this
age ; the noble helps and lights which we have by the travels of ancient
writers ; the art of printing, which communicatcth books to men of all
fortunes: the openness of the world by navigation, which hath dis
closed multitudes of experiments, and a mass of natural history ;
the leisure wherewith these times abound, not employing men so
generally in civil business, as the states of Grrccia d'icl/in respect
of their popularity and the state of Rome in respect of the
greatness of their monarchy ; the present disposition of these times
at this instant to peace ; the consumption of all that ever can be
said in controversies of religion, which have so much diverted men
from other sciences ; the perfection of your majesty's learning, which
as a phoenix may call whole vollics of wits to follow you ; and the
inseparable propriety of time which is ever more and more to disclose
truth ; I cannot but be raised to this persuasion, that this third period
of time will far surpass that of the Gnecinn and Roman learning :
only if men will know their own strength, and their own weakness
both ; and take, one from the other, light of invention, and not fire of
contradiction ; and esteem of the inquisition of truth, as of an enter
prise, and not as of a quality or ornament ; and employ wit and
magnificence to things of worth and excellency, and not to things
vulgar and of popular estimation. As for my labours, if any man

IT.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 239

should please himself, or others, in the reprehension of them, they
shall make that ancient and patient request, " Verbcra, seel audi."
Let men reprehend them, so they observe and weigh them. For the
appeal is lawful, though it may be it shall not be needful, from the
first cogitations of men to their second, and from the nearer times to
the times farther off. Now let us come to that learning, which both
the former times were not so blessed as to know, sacred and inspired
Divinity, the sabbath and port of all men's labours and peregrinations.

THK prerogative of God extendeth as well to the reason, as to the
will of man ; so that as we are to obey his law, though we find a reluc-
tation in our will ; so we are to believe his word, though we find a
rcluctation in our reason. For if we believe only that which is agree
able to our sense, we give consent to the matter, and not to the author,
which is no more than we would do towards a suspected and dis
credited witness : but that faith which was " accounted to Abraham
for righteousness," was of such a point, as whereat Sarah laughed,
who therein was an image of natural reason.

Howbeit, if we will truly consider it, more worthy it is to believe than
to know as we now know. For in knowledge man's mind suffereth from
sense, but in belief it suffereth from spirit, such one as it holdeth for
more authorized than itself; and so suffereth from the worthier agent.
Otherwise it is of the state of m=in glorified, for then faith shall cease,
and " we shall know as we are known."

Wherefore we conclude, that sacred theology, which in our idiom
we call divinity, is grounded only upon the word and oracle of God,
and not upon the light of nature: for it is written, " Cecil enarrant
gloriam Dei : " but it is not written, "Cceli enarrant voluntatcm Dei :"
but of that it is said, "Ad legcm ct testimonium, si non fecerint secun-
dum vcrbum istud," etc. This holdeth not only in those points of
faith which concern the great mysteries of the Deity, of the creation,
of the redemption, but likewise those which concern the law moral
truly interpreted ; " Love your enemies : do good to them that hate
you: be like to your heavenly Father, that suffereth his rain to fall
upon the just and unjust." To this it ought to be applauded, " Nee
vox hominem sonat," it is a voice beyond the light of nature. So we
sec the heathen poets, when they fall upon a libertine passion, do still
expostulate with laws and moralities, as if they were opposite and
malignant to nature ; " Et quod natura rcmittit Invida jura ncgant."
So said Dendamis the Indian unto Alexander's messengers ; "that he
had heard somewhat of Pythagoras, and some other of the wise men
of Gr;ucia, and that he held them for excellent men : but that they
had a fault, which was, that they had in too great reverence and vene
ration a thing they called law and manners." So it must be confessed
that a great part of the law moral is of that perfection, whcreunto the
light of nature cannot aspire ; how then is it, that man is said to have,
by the light and law of nature, some notions and conceits of virtue and
vice, justice and wrong, good and evil? Thus: because the light of
nature is used in two several senses ; '.he one, that which springcth from

340 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Cook

reason, sense, induction, argument, according to the laws of heaven
and cnrth ; the other, that which is imprinted upon the spirit of man
by an inward instinct, according to the law of conscience, which is a
sparkle of the purity of his first estate : in which latter sense only he
is participant, of some light and discerning touching the perfection of
the moral law : but how ? Sufficient to check the vice, but not to
inform the duty. So then the doctrine of religion, as well moral as
mystical, is nottobe attained,but by inspiration andrevelation from God.

The use, notwithstanding, of reason, in spiritual things, and the
latitude thereof, is very great and general ; for it is not for nothing that
the apostle calleth religion our reasonable service of God, insomuch as
the very ceremonies and figures of the old law were full of reason
and signification, much more than the ceremonies of idolatry and
magic, that are full of non-significants and surd characters. But most
especially the Christian faith, as in all things, so in this, deserveth to
be highly magnified, holding and preserving the golden mediocrity in
this point, between the law of the heathen, and the law of Mahomet,
which have embraced the two extremes. For the religion of the
heathen had no constant belief or confession, but left all to the liberty
of argument : and the religion of Mahomet, on the other side, inter-
dicteth argument altogether: the one having the very face of error,
and the other of imposture; whereas the faith doth both admit and
reject disputation with difference.

The use of human reason in religion is of two sorts : the former, in
the conception and apprehension of the mysteries of God to us
revealed ; the other, in the inferring and deriving of doctrine and
direction thereupon. The former extendeth to the mysteries them
selves ; but how ? By way of illustration, and not by way of argument.
The latter consisteth indeed of probation and argument. In the
former, we see, God vouchsafeth to descend to our capacity, in the
expressing of his mysteries in sort as may be sensible unto us ; and
doth graft his revelations and holy doctrine upon the notions of our
reason, and applieth his inspirations to open our understanding, as the
form of the key to the ward of the lock. For the latter there is allowed
us an use of reason and argument, secondary and respective, although
not original and absolute. For after the articles and principles of
religion are placed and exempted from examination of reason, it is
then permitted unto us to make derivations and inferences from, and
according to the analogy of them, for our better direction. In nature
this holdeth not, for both the principles arc cxaminable by induction,
though not by a medium or syllogism; and besides, those principles
or first positions have no discordance with that reason, which drawcth
down and deduceth the inferior positions. But yet it holdeth not in
religion alone, but in many knowledges, both of greater and smaller
nature, namely, wherein there are not only posita but placita; for in
such there can be no use of absolute reason : we see it familiarly in
games of wit, as chess, or the like ; the draughts and first laws of the
game are positive, but how? merely ad placitum, and not examinable
by reason : but then how to direct our play thereupon with best

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

advantage to \vin the game, is artificial and rational. So in human
laws, there be many grounds and max>ms, which are placita juris,
positive upon authority and not upon reason, and therefore not to be
disputed : but what is most just, not absolutely, but relatively and
according to those maxims, that affordeth a long field of disputation.
Such therefore is that secondary reason, which hath place in divinity,
which is grounded upon the placets of God.

Here therefore I note this deficicnce, that there hath not been, to
my understanding, sufficiently inquired and handled the true limits
and use of reason in spiritual things, as a kind of divine dialectic :
which for that it is not done, it seemeth to me a thing usual, by pre
text of true conceiving that which is revealed, to search and mine into
that which is not revealed, and, by pretext of enucleating inferences
and contradictories, to examine that which is positive : the one sort
falling into the error of Nicodemus, demanding to have things made
more sensible than it pleaseth God to reveal them, " Quomodo possit
homo nasci cum sit scnex?" the other sort into the error of the
disciples, which were scandalized at a show of contradiction, " Quid
est hoc, quod dicit nobis ? Modicum et non vidcbitis me, ct iterum
modicum, et videbitis me/' etc.

Upon this I have insisted the more, in regard of the great and
blessed use thereof ; for this point, well laboured and defined of, would,
in my judgment, be an opiate to stay and bridle not only the vanity of
curious speculations, wherewith the schools labour, but the fury of
controversies, wherewith the Church laboureth. For it cannot but
open men's eyes, to sec that many controversies do merely pertain to
that which is cither not revealed, or positive, and that many others do
grow upon weak and obscure inferences or derivations ; which latter
sort, if men would revive the blessed stile of that great doctor of the
Gentiles, would be carried thus ; Ego, non Doininus ; and again,
Secundum consilium mcum; in opinions and counsels, and not in
positions and oppositions. But men arc now over-ready to usurp the
stile, Non ego, scd Doniinus; and not so only, but to bind it with the
thunder and denunciation of curses and anathemas, to the terror of
those which have not sufficiently learned out of Solomon, that " the
causeless curse shall not come."

Divinity hath two principal parts ; the matter informed or revealed,
and the nature of the information or revelation : and with the latter
we will begin, because it hath most coherence with that which we have
now last handled. The nature of the information consistcth of three
branches ; the limits of the information, the sufficiency of the informa
tion, and the acquiring or obtaining the information. Unto the limits
of the information belong these considerations ; how far forth particular
persons continue to be inspired ; how far forth the Church is inspired ;
and how far forth reason may be used : the last point whereof I have
denoted as deficient. Unto the sufficiency of the information belong
two considerations ; what points of religion are fundamental, and
what perfective, being matter of farther building and perfection upon
one and the same foundation ; and again, how the gradations of litfht,

242 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

according to the dispensation of times, are material to the sufficiency
of belief.

Here again I may rather give it in advice, than note it as deficient,
that the points fundamental, and the points of farther perfection, only
ought to be with piety and wisdom distinguished ; a subject tending to
much like end, as that I noted before ; for as that other were likely to
abate the number of controversies, so this is like to abate the heat of
many of them. We see Moses when he saw the Israelite and the
^Egyptian fight, he did not say, "Why strive you?" but drew his sword,
and slew the ^Egyptian : but when he saw the two Israelites fight, he
said, " You are brethren, why strive you ? " If the point of doctrine be
an ^Egyptian, it must be slain by " the sword of the Spirit," and not
reconciled : but if it be an Israelite, though in the wrong, then, " Why
strive you ?" We sec of the fundamental points, our Saviour penneth
the league thus ; " He that is not with us, is against us ; " but of points
not fundamental, thus ; " He that is not against us, is with us." So
we see the coat of our Saviour was entire without scam, and so is the
doctrine of the Scriptures in itself ; but the garment of the Church was
of divers colours, and yet not divided : we see the chaff may and ought
to be severed from the corn in the car, but the tares may not be pulled
up from the corn in the field. So as it is a thing of great use well to
define, what, and of what latitude those points are, which do make
men merely aliens and disincorporate from the Church of God.

For the obtaining of the information, it rcsteth upon the true and
sound interpretation of the Scriptures, which are the fountains of the
water of life. The interpretations of the Scriptures are of two sorts :
methodical, and solute or at large. For this divine water, which
exccllcth so much that of Jacob's well, is drawn forth much in the same
kind, as natural water useth to be out of wells and fountains ; either it
is first forced up into a cistern, and from thence fetched and derived
for use ; or else it is drawn and received into buckets and vessels
immediately where it springeth. The former sort whereof, though it
seem to be the more ready, yet, in my judgment, is more subject to
corrupt. This is that method which hath exhibited unto us the
scholastical divinity, whereby divinity hath been reduced into an art
as into a cistern, and the streams of doctrine or positions fetched and
derived from thence.

In this men have sought threo things, a summary brevity, a com
pacted strength, and a complete perfection ; whereof the two first they
fail to find, and the last they ought not to seek. For as to brevity, we
see, in all summary methods, while men purpose to abridge, they give
cause to dilate. For the sum, or abridgment, by contraction becometh
obscure : the obscurity requireth exposition, and the exposition is
deduced into large commentaries, or into common places and titles,
which grow to be more vast than the original writings, whence the
sum was at first extracted. So, we sec, the volumes of the schoolmen
are greater much than the first writings of the fathers, whence the
master of the sentences made his sum or collection. So, in like manner,
the volumes of '.he modern doctors of the civil law exceed those of the

IF.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. ^43

ancient jurisconsults, of which Trebonian compiled the digest. So as
this course of sums and commentaries is that which doth infallibly
make the body of sciences more immense in quantity, and mure base
in substance.

And for strength, it is true, that knowledges reduced into exact
methods have a show of strength, in that each part seemeth to support
and sustain the other ; but this is more satisfactory than substantial :
like unto buildings which stand by architecture and compaction, which
are more subject to ruin, than those that arc built more strong in theii
several parts, though less compacted. But it is plain, that the more
you recede from your grounds, the weaker do you conclude and as in
nature, the more you remove yourself from particulars, t te greater
peril of error you do incur ; so much more in divinity, the more you
recede from the Scriptures, by inferences and consequences, the more
weak and dilute arc your positions.

And as for perfection, or completeness in divinity, it is not to be
sought ; which makes this course of artificial divinity the more suspect.
For he that will reduce a knowledge into an art, will make it round
and uniform : but, in divinity, many things must be left abrupt and
concluded with this : " O altitudo sapiential et scientue Dei ! quam
incomprehensibilia sunt judicia ejus, et non investigabilcs vi;e ejus?"
So again the apostle saith, " Ex parte scimus ; " and to have the form
of a total, where there is but matter for a part, cannot be without
supplies by supposition and presumption. And therefore I conclude,
that the true use of these sums and methods hath place in institutions
or introductions preparatory unto knowledge ; but in them, or by de-
ducemcnt from them, to handle the main body and substance of a
knowledge, is in all sciences prejudicial, and in divinity dangerous.

As to the interpretation of the Scriptures solute and at large, there
have been divers kinds introduced and devised ; some ot them rather
curious and unsafe, than sober and warranted. Notwithstanding, thus
much must be confessed, that the Scriptures being given by inspira
tion, and not by human reason, do differ from all other books in the
author ; which by consequence doth draw on some difference to be
used by the expositor. For the inditer of them did know four things
which no man attains to know ; which arc, the mysteries of the king
dom of glory, the perfection of the laws of nature, the secrets of the
heart of man, and the future succession of all ages. For as to the tirsi
it is said, " He that presseth into the light, shall be oppressed of the
glory." And again, No man shall see my face and live." To the
second, " When he prepared the heavens I was present, when by law
and compass he enclosed the deep." To the third, " Neither was it
needful that any should bear witness to him of man, for he knew well
what was in man." And to the last, " From the beginning are known
to the Lord all his works."

From the former of these two have been drawn certain senses and
expositions of Scriptures, which had need be contained within the
bounds of sobriety ; the one anagogical, and the other philosophical.
But as to the former, man is not to prevent his time, " Vidcmus nunc

244 AD VANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

per speculum in aenigmate, tune autem facie ad facicm ; " wherein,
nevertheless, there secmeth to be a liberty granted, as far forth as the
polishing of this glass, or some moderate explication of this enigma.
But to press too far into it, cannot but cause a dissolution and over
throw of the spirit of man: for in the body there are three degrees of
that we receive into it, ailment, medicine, and poison ; whereof ailment
is that which the nature of man can perfectly alter and overcome ;
medicine is that which is partly converted by nature, and partly con-
verteth nature ; and poison is that which worketh wholly upon nature,
without that, that nature can in any part work upon it : so in the mind,
whatsoever knowledge reason cannot at all work upon and convert, is
a mere intoxication, and indangereth a dissolution of the mind and
understanding.

But for the latter, it hath been extremely set on foot of late time by
the school of Paracelsus, and some others, that have pretended to find
the truth of all natural philosophy in the Scriptures ; scandalizing and
traducing all other philosophy as heathenish and profane. But there
is no such enmity between God's word and his works ; neither do they

five honour to the Scriptures, as they suppose, but much embasethem.
'or to seek heaven and earth in the word of God, whereof it is said,
'' heaven and earth shall pass, but my word shall not pass," is to seek
temporary things amongst eternal ; and as to seek divinity in philoso
phy, is to seek the living amongst the dead ; so to seek philosophy in
divinity, is to seek the dead amongst the living ; neither are the pots
or lavcrs, whose place TV as in the outward part of the temple, to be
sought in the holiest place of all, where the ark of the testimony was
seated. And again the scope or purpose of the Spirit of God is not to
express matters of nature in the Scriptures, otherwise than in passage,
and for application to man's capacity, and to matters moral or divine.
And it is a true rule, "Auctoris aliud agentis parva auctoritas :" for
it were a strange conclusion, if a man should use a similitude for orna
ment or illustration sake, borrowed from nature or history, according
to vulgar conceit, as of a basilisk, an unicorn, a centaur, a Briareus,
a Hydra, or the like, that therefore he must needs be thought to affirm
the matter thereof positively to be true. To conclude therefore these
two interpretations, the one by reduction or enigmatical, the other
philosophical or physical, which have been received and pursued in
imitation of the rabbins and cabalists, are to be confined with a " noli
altum sapere, sed time."

But the two latter points, known to God, and unknown to man,
touching the secrets of the heart, and the successions of time, do make
a just and sound difference between the manner of the exposition of
the Scriptures and all other books. For it is an excellent observation
which hath been made upon the answers of our Saviour Christ tc
many of the questions which were propounded to him, how that they
are impertinent to the state of the question demanded ; the reason
whereof is, because not being like man, which knows man's thoughts
by his words, but knowing man's thoughts immediately, he never
answered their words but their thoughts : much in the like manner it

II.] ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 245

is with the Scriptures, which being written to the thoughts of men, and
to the succession of all ages, with a foresight of all heresies, con
tradictions, differing estates of the Church, yea, and particularly of
the elect, are not to be interpreted only according to the latitude of
the proper sense of the place, and respectively towards that present
occasion, whereupon the words were uttered, or in precise congruity, or
contexture with the words before or after, or in contemplation of the
principal scope of the place ; but have in themselves, not only totally
or collectively, but distributivcly in clauses and words, infinite springs
and streams of doctrine to water the Church in every part : and there
fore as the literal sense is, as it were, the main stream or river, so the
moral sense chielly, and sometimes the allegorical or typical, are they
whereof the Church hath most use : not that I wish men to be bold
in allegories, or indulgent or light in allusions ; but that I do much
condemn that interpretation of the Scripture, which is only after the
manner as men use to interpret a profane book.

In this part, touching the exposition of the Scriptures, I can report
no deficience ; but by way of remembrance, this I will add, in perusing
books of divinity, I find many books of controversies, and many of
common places, and treatises, a mass of positive divinity, as it is made
an art ; a number of sermons and lectures, and many prolix commcnt-
aiics upon the Scriptures, with harmonies and concordances : but that
form of writing in divinity, which in my judgment is of all others most
rich and precious, is positive divinity, collected upon particular texts
of Scriptures in brief observations, not dilated into common places;
not chasing after controversies ; not reduced into method of art ; a
thing abounding in sermons, which will vanish, but defective in books
which will remain, and a thing wherein this age excelleth. For I am
persuaded, and I may speak it, with an " Absit invidia verbo," and no
ways in derogation of antiquity, but as in a good emulation between
the vine and the olive, that if the choice and best of those observa
tions upon texts of Scriptures, which have been made dispersedly in
sermons within your majesty's island of Britain, by the space of these
forty years and more, leaving out the largeness of exhortations and appli
cations thereupon, had been set down in a continuance, it had been
the best work in divinity, which had been written since the apostles'
times.

The matter informed by divinity is of two kinds : matter of belief,
and truth of opinion ; and matter of service and adoration ; which is
also judged and directed by the former ; the one being as the internal
soul of religion, and the other as the external body thereof. And
therefore the heathen religion was not only a worship of idols, but the
whole religion was an idol in itself, for it had no soul ; that is, no
certainty of belief or confession ; as a man may well think, considering
the chief doctors of their church were the poets : and the reason was,
because the heathen gods were no jealous gods, but were glad to be
admitted into part, as they had reason. Neither did they respect the
purcness of heart, so they might have external honour and rites.

liut out of these two do result and issv.c four main branches of

246 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. [Book

divinity : Faith, Manners, Liturgy, and Government. Faith containeth
the doctrine of the nature of God, of the attributes of God, and of the
works of God. The nature of God consisteth of three persons in unity
of Godhead. The attributes of God are either common to the Deity,
or respective to the persons. The works of God summary are two,
that of the creation, and that of the redemption ; and both these works,
as in total they appertain to the unity of the Godhead, so in their parts
they refer to the three persons : that of the creation, in the mass of the
matter, to the Father ; in the disposition of the form, to the Son ; and
in the continuance and conversation of the being, to the Holy Spirit ;
so that of the redemption, in the election and counsel, to the Father ;
in the whole act and consummation, to the Son ; and in the application,
to the Holy Spirit : for by the Holy Ghost was Christ conceived in flesh,
and by the Holy Ghost arc the elect regenerate in spirit. This work
likewise we consider either effectually, in the elect ; or privately, in
the reprobate ; or according to appearance, in the visible Church.

For manners, the doctrine thereof is contained in the law, which
discloseth sin. The law itself is divided, according to the edition
thereof, into the law of nature, the law moral, and the law positive;
and, according to the stile, into negative and affirmative, prohibitions
and commandments. Sin, in the matter and subject thereof, is di
vided according to the commandments ; in the form thereof, it
referrcth to the three persons in Deity. Sins of infirmity against the
Father, whose more special attribute is power ; sins of ignorance
against the Son, whose attribute is wisdom ; and sins of malice against
the Holy Ghost, whose attribute is grace or love. In the motions of
it, it cither movcth to the right hand or to the left, either to blind
devotion, or to profane and libertine transgression ; either in imposing
restraint where God grantcth liberty, or in taking liberty where God
imposeth restraint. In the degrees and progress of it, it divideth itself
into thought, word, or act. And in this part I commend much the
deducing of the law of God to cases of conscience, for that I take
indeed to be a breaking, and not exhibiting whole, of the bread of life.
But that which quickcneth both these doctrines of faith and manners,
is the elevation and consent of the heart ; whcreunto appertain books
of exhortation, holy meditation, Christian resolution, and the like.

For the liturgy or service, it consisteth of the reciprocal acts
between God and man : which, on the part of God, are the preaching
of the word, and the sacraments, which are seals to the covenant, or as
the visible word ; and on the part of man, invocation of the name of
God ; and, under the law, sacrifices ; which were as visible prayers or
confessions ; but now the adoration being in spirilu et veritate, there
rcmaineth only vituli labionun, although the use of holy vows of
thankfulness and retribution may be accounted also as sealed petitions.

And for the government of the Church, it consisteth of the patri
mony of the Church, the franchises of the Church, and the offices and
jurisdictions of the Church, and the laws of the Church directing the
whole ; all which have two considerations, the one in themselves, the
otl.er how they stand compatible and agreeable to the civil estate.

II.J ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING.

This matter of divinity is handled cither in form of instruction ot
truth, or in form of confutation of falsehood. The declinations from
religion, besides the privative, which is atheism, and the branches
thereof, are three ; heresies, idolatry, and witchcraft : heresies, when
we serve the true God with a false worship ; idolatry, when we worship
false gods, supposing them to be true ; and witchcraft, when we adore
false gods, knowing them to be wicked and false. For so your majesty
doth excellently well observe, that witchcraft is the height of idolatry.
And yet we see though these be true degrees, Samuel te.icheth us that
they are all of a nature, when there is once a receding from the word
of (iod ; for so he saith, " Quasi peccatum ariolandi est repugnare, ct
quasi scelus idololatrix nolle acquiesccrc."

These things I have passed over so briefly, because I can report no
deficiencc concerning them : for I can find no space or ground that
lieth vacant and unsown in the matter of divinity ; so diligent have
been men, cither in sowing of good seed, or in sowing of tares.

THUS have I made, as it were, a small globe of the intellectual
world, as truly and faithfully as I could discover, with a note and
description of those parts which seem to me not constantly occupatc, or
not well converted by the labour of man. In which, if I have in any
point receded from that which is commonly received, it hath been with
a purpose of proceeding /'// mclius, and not /'// aliud: a mind of amend
ment and proticicnce, and not of change and difference. For I could
not be true and constant to the argument I handle, if I were not willing
to go beyond others, but yet not more willing than to have others go
beyond me again ; which may the better appear by this, that I have
propounded my opinions naked and unarmed, not seeking to pre-
occupatc the liberty of men's judgments by confutations. For in any
thing which is well set down, I am in good hope, that if the first read
ing move an objection, the second reading will make an answer. And
in those things wherein I have erred, I am sure, I have not prejudiced
the right by litigious arguments, which certainly have this contrary
effect and operation, that they add authority to error, and destroy the
authority of that which is well invented. For question is an honour
and preferment to falsehood, as on the other side it is a repulse to
truth. But the errors I claim and challangc to myself as my own.
The good, if any be, is due tanguain adeps sacrijicii, to be incensed to
the honour first of the Divine Majesty, and nexl of your r.iajcily, to
wnoiii on earth I am must boundcu.

\

XOVUM ORGANUM;

OR, TRUE DIRECTIONS FOR THE INTER
PRETATION OF NATURE.

PREFACE.

THOSE who have presumed to dogmatize on Nature as on a well-
explored subject, whether they have done so from self-confidence or
affectedly and in a professorial manner, have done very great harm
to Philosophy and the Sciences. For, so far as they have succeeded
in gaining credit, they have been instrumental in stifling and breaking
off inquiry : and the services which they have rendered have been
outweighed by the injury they have done in corrupting and destroying
those uf others. And those who have proceeded in the opposite
course, and have declared that nothing at all can be known, whether
they have fallen into this opinion from a dislike to the ancient Sophists,
or from want of decision, or even from a sort of overabundance of
learning, have certainly adduced reasons for it which are not to be
despised : yet they have not drawn their conclusion from true
beginnings ; but, carried forward by a kind of earnestness and
affectation, have overstepped all bounds. l)ut the older Greeks
(whose writings have perished) have steered more prudently between
the arrogance of dogmatizing and the despair of Acatalepsy : and while
they vented complaints and expressions of indignation at the difficulty
of inquiry and the obscurity of things, and, so to speak, champed the
bit, still did not fail to press their point and to grapple with Nature ;
thinking it better, as it seemed, not to dispute the question (whether
anything can be known), but to leave it to experiment. Even they,
however, used only the bare force of intellect, unguidcd by any fixed
rule, and put all their trust in intense meditation of continual action
and exercise of the mind.

But our plan is as easy to describe as it is difficult to put in practice.
For it consists in laying down degrees of certainty, in guarding the
sense from error by a process of correction, while we reject for the
most part that operation of the mind which follows close upon the
sense ; and then in opening and constructing a new and certain way
for the mind from the very perceptions of the senses. And this was,
doubtless, also recognized by those who assigned such important

250 NOVUM ORGANUM.

functions to Logic ; whereby it is clear that they sought to support the
intellect while they distrusted the native and spontaneous onward
action of the mind. But this remedy is clearly too late in its appli
cation, when the cause is hopeless ; the mind, through the daily habit
of life, having become occupied by depraved conversation and teaching,
and beset by the emptiest idola. And so that art of Logic, taking its
precautions when, as we said, it was too late, failed entirely in
restoring the matter to order, and rather served to render error
permanent than to open out the truth. There remains only one way
of safe and healthy action ; it is that the whole work of the mind should
be recommenced anew ; that the mind, from the very beginning, be in
nowise left to itself, but be kept under continual restraint ; and that
the matter should be carried out as if by machinery. Certainly, if men
set about works requiring mechanical aids with their bare hands, and
without the power and assistance of instruments, as they have not hesi
tated to treat works intellectual with the almost unassisted powers of
the mind, very small would have been the things which they could
have set in motion and overcome, even though they had strained and
combined their powers to the utmost. And suppose that we pause
awhile, and look into this same illustration as into a mirror : let us
imagine (if you please) that some obelisk, famous for its size, had to be
removed to do grace to a triumph or some such pageant, and that men
were to attempt the removal with their bare hands, would not any sober
looker on admit that it was an act of downright madness ? And if
they were to increase the number of workmen, hoping thus to succeed,
would he not say it was much more so ? But if they thought proper to
make a selection, and were to set aside the weaker, and employ only
the strong and vigorous, and to hope that thus, at least, they might
gain their wish, would he net say that they were more extravagantly
beside themselves ? And further, if. not content with this, they should
resolve to call in the aid of the athletic art, and should bid all their
workmen appear henceforward with their hands, arms, and muscles
well oiled and doctored according to rule, would he not exclaim that
they were taking pains to be mad with a kind of method and foresight?
And yet men are carried on by a like unsound energy and useless
combination in matters relating to the intellect, so long as they look
for great results either from the number and union of natural abilities
or from their excellence and acuteness, or even so long as they
strengthen the muscles of the mind of Logic (which may almost be
called the athletics of the mind) ; but, in the meantime, although they
throw so much zeal and effort into the work, cease not (if one looks at
the matter fairly) to apply the intellect bare. But it is most clear that
in every great work, which is undertaken by the hand of man, neither
can the strength of individuals be intensified, or that of the many
united, without the aid of instruments and machinery.

And so, from the foregoing premises, we lay down two points of
which we would have men clearly advised, lest, perchance, they should
scape or slip by them. And the first is this. It happens, by the
kindness of Fate, (as we think), with a view to the extinction and

NOVUM ORGANUM. 251

banishment of controversies and heartburnings, that the honour and
reverence paid to the ancients remain untouched and undiminished,
while we are able to carry out our appointed task and still enjoy the
fruits of our moderation. For if we were to profess to bring forward
better results than the ancients, after having taken the same road as
they, no verbal skill could prevent the introduction of some compari
son or rivalry as to wit or excellence or powers ; — not that there would
be anything unlawful or novel in that, (for why may we not, in our own
right, — a right not ours alone, but universal — why should we not
criticise and set our mark upon any false discovery or position of
theirs ?) but granted that such a proceeding were just and allowable,
still probably the contest would be an unequal one, on account of the
different measure of our strengths. Hut when we set about opening
out for the intellect a path entirely different from theirs, untried by
them and unknown to them, the case is at once changed ; party zeal
ceases ; and we sustain only the character of a guide, and this surely
demands but a moderate share of authority, and depends upon good
fortune rather than ability and excellence. And this warning refers
to persons ; the other, to the subject-matter itself.

We, it must be understood, are very far from endeavouring to upset
that philosophy which is now in vogue, or any other more accurate
and enlarged than it, either present or to come. For we do not wish
to hinder the philosophy at present in vogue, and others of the same
class, from nourishing discussions, adorning discourses, or from being
applied, and weightily so, to the duties of the Professor and the interests
of social life. Moreover, we openly signify and declare that the
philosophy which we are introducing will not be found very useful for
these matters. It is not ready at hand : it is not grasped by the
cursory reader ; it does not flatter the intellect by preconceived
notions ; nor will it descend to the grasp of the vulgar, except by its
utility and effects. And so let there be (and may each party find its
share of happiness and fortune therein) two Sources and two Dis
pensations of Learning ; and, in like manner, two tribes, and, as it
were, kindred lines of contemplators or philosophers ; and let them be
in no way hostile or estranged, but bound in a close alliance by mutual
good services ; let there be, in short, one method for cultivating the
Sciences, and another for discovering them. And for those who find
the first method preferable and more acceptable, on account of their
impatience or the conventionalities of civil life, or because they cannot
grasp and embrace the second through infirmity of mind (whu h must
of necessity be the case with the great majority of men), they have our
wishes that they may succeed happily and according to their desire
in what they undertake, and attain what they pursue. Hut whosoever
lias the heart and the care not only to abide by what is discovered and
to make use of it, but to penetrate into regions beyond, and to over
come not merely his adversary in disputing, but nature in results : in
short, whosoever wishes not to spin fine and specious theories, but to
attain to a certain and demonstrative knowledge, let such, as a true son
of science, if he see good reason, join himself to us ; that on his

252 NOVUM ORGANUM.

leaving the outer courts of Nature, which countless numbers have
trodden, an entrance to her inmost chamber may, at length, be opened
to him. And that we may be the better understood, and that our
object may appear the more familiar by fixing on determinate names,
\\e are accustomed to call the one method or way the Anticipation of
the Mind, the other, the Interpretation of Nature.

We think that there is one more request to be made. We have
certainly taken both thought and care that our propositions should
not only be true, but should also reach the minds of men without
inconvenience or harshness (strangely prepossessed and confined
though they be). But still we may justly demand (especially in so
j;reat a restoration of Learning and Science), that whosoever wishes
to come to any determination, or to form any judgment of this our
work, under the direction of his own sense, or of the crowd of
authorities, or of forms of demonstration (which have now obtained
the weight of judicial laws), that he should not expect to be able to do
so in a cursory way or while he is doing something else : but that he
should make himself thoroughly acquainted with the matter, should
himself try, little by little, the way which we trace out and construct ;
should accustom himself to the subtlety of things which is pointed
out by experience ; and, lastly, should correct by seasonable and, as it
were, legitimate hesitation the depraved and deeply rooted habits of
the mind : and then, finally (if it please him), when he has begun to
be his own master, use his own judgment.

BOOK I.

APHORISMS ON THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE
AND THE KINGDOM OF MAN.

I. MAN, the servant and interpreter of Nature, performs and under
stands so much as he has collected concerning the order of Nature by
observation or reason, nor do his powers or his knowledge extend
farther.

ii. Neither the bare hand nor the understanding, left to itself, has
much power : results are brought about by instruments and aids,
which are no less needed for the intellect than the hand. And as
instruments for the hand excite or regulate its motion, so, likewise,
instruments for the mind either prompt the intellect or protect it.

iii. The knowledge and the power of man coincide, because igno
rance of the cause involves the loss of the effect. For we can only
conquer Nature by submitting to her ; and that which in contempla
tion occupies the place of the cause, in operation takes that of the
rule.

iv. For the accomplishment of results man can do nothing more

NOVUM ORGANUM. 253

than apply natural bodies and withdraw them : the rest Nature
transacts within.

v. The Mechanist, the Mathematician, the Physicist, the Alchemist,
and the Magician, are accustomed to grapple with Nature (as far as
the production of results is concerned) ; but all (as things now stand)
with feeble efforts and slight success.

vi. It would be madness, and a contradiction, to think that those
things, which have never hitherto been done, can be done, unless by
means never hitherto attempted.

vii. The productions of the mind and the hand seem very numerous
in books and manufactures. But all that variety consists in an exces
sive subtlety, and in deductions from a few things which have become
known ; not in a number of Axioms.

viii. Even the results already discovered are due to chance and
experiments rather than the Sciences ; for the Sciences, as we now
have them, are nothing but certain orderly arrangements of things
previously discovered ; not methods of discovery, or schemes for
obtaining new results.

ix. Hut the one cause and root of nearly all evils in the Sciences is
this, that while we falsely admire and extol the strength of the human
mind, we do not seek its true aids.

x. The subtlety of Nature far exceeds the subtlety of sense and
intellect : so that these fine meditations and speculations and reason
ings of men are a sort of insanity ; only there is no one at hand to
remark it.

xi. As the Sciences which now prevail are useless for the discovery
of results, so also the Logic which now prevails is useless for the
discovery of Sciences.

xii. The Logic which is now in use has rather the effect of confirm
ing and rendering permanent errors which are founded on vulgar
conceptions, than of promoting the investigation of Truth : so that it
does more harm than good.

xiii. The Syllogism is not applied to the principles of the Sciences ;
it is applied in vain to the middle Axioms, since it is far from being a
match for the subtlety of Nature. And so it constrains assent, not
things.

xiv. A Syllogism consists of propositions, propositions of words,
and words are the symbols of conceptions. And so if the conceptions
themselves (which are the groundwork of the whole) are confused
and hastily abstracted from things, there will be no stability in the
superstructure raised upon them. And so the only hope is in a true
Induction.

xv. There is nothing found in the conceptions cither of Logic or of
Physics : the conceptions of Substance, of Quality, of Action, of
Passion, even of Being, are not good; much less those of Weight,
Lightness, Density, Rarity, Moisture, Uryness, Generation, Corrup
tion, Attraction, Repulsion, Element, Matter, Form, and the like; but
they are all fanciful and badly defined.

xvi. The conceptions of infimce species, as Man, Dog, Pigeon, and

254 NOVUM ORGANUM.

of the immediate apprehensions of the sense, as Hot, Cold, White,
Black, do not greatly deceive us ; and yet even they are sometimes
confused by the flux of matter and the intermingling of things : all
others, which men have used up to this time, are errors, and unduly
abstracted and drawn out from things.

xvii. Nor is there less license and error in determining Axioms
than in abstracting conceptions : and that in the very principles which
depend on common induction. But much more is this the case in
axioms and inferior propositions, which are called forth by the
Syllogism.

xviii. The discoveries hitherto made in the Sciences are of a kind
usually bordering upon common conceptions ; but, in order that we
may penetrate to the inner and more remote parts of Nature, it is
necessary that conceptions, as well as axioms, should be abstracted
from things by a more certain and better constructed way, and that a
method of applying the intellect, altogether better and more certain,
should be brought into use.

xix. There are and can be but two ways of investigating and dis
covering Truth. The one flies from sense and particulars to the most
general axioms, and from these as first principles, and their undisputed
truth, determines and discovers middle axioms ; and this is the way
which is in use. The other draws out the axioms from sense and
particulars, by ascending uniformly and step by step, so that at last
it reaches the most general ; and this is the true way, but untried.

xx. The Intellect, when left to itself, enters on the same road that
it follows according to the order of Logic, and this is the first. For
the mind delights in starting oft" to wider generalities, that it may find
rest, and after a short delay is disgusted with experience ; but these
evils are, after all, exaggerated by Logic, on account of ostentatious
disputations.

xxi. The Intellect, when left to itself, in a sober, patient, and grave
disposition (especially if it be not hindered by received doctrines),
sometimes tries the second way, — viz. the right one,— but makes
little advance ; since the Intellect, without direction and assistance,
acts irregularly, and is quite inadequate to overcoming the obscurity
of things.

xxii. Each way begins from sense and particulars, and rests in the
most general propositions : but yet they differ vastly ; since the one
only touches cursorily on experience and particulars, while the other
becomes duly and regularly familiar with them ; the one again, from
the first beginning, lays down some abstract and useless generalities ;
the other rises, step by step, to those things which are more familiar
to Nature (/>., higher abstractions).

xxiii. There is no slight difference between the idola of the human
mind and the idea of the divine mind ; that is, between certain vain
conceits and the true marks and impressions made on created things
as they are found by us.

xxiv. It can nowise be that Axioms established by a process of
argument should be of use for the discovery of new results, because

NOVUM ORGANUAf.

2;;

the subtlety of Nature very far exceeds the subtlety of argument. But
axioms duly and regularly abstracted from particulars easily again point
out and mark down new particulars, and so render the Sciences active.

xxv. The Axioms which are in use have been drawn from a scanty
and unassisted experience, and from a few particulars which most
frequently occur, and are commonly made and extended according to
their measure, so that it is not astonishing that they do not lead to
new particulars. But if, by chance, some instance not hitherto re
marked upon or known offers itself, the axiom is saved by some
frivolous distinction, when it would have been more truthful to have
corrected it.

xxvi. It is our custom, as a sort of guide, to call the method which
men ordinarily apply to Nature Anticipations of Nature, because it
is hasty and premature ; but that method which is elicited from things
by legitimate means we call Interpretation of Nature.

xxvii. Anticipations are sufficiently strong to ensure consent, inas
much as if men were even to go mad after one uniform fashion, they
would be able to agree tolerably among themselves.

xxviii. Moreover, Anticipations are far more effective in winning
assent than Interpretations, because, as they are collected from a
few instances, and mostly from those which are of familiar occur
rence, they immediately dazzle the intellect and fill the imagination ;
while, on the other hand, Interpretations, being collected over a wide
field from things exceedingly different and lying far apart, cannot
strike the intellect suddenly : so that for opinions they must seem
harsh and discordant— almost like mysteries of faith.

xxix. In the sciences which are based on opinions and arbitrary
views, the use of Anticipations and Logic is good, since it is their
business to subdue assent, not things.

xxx. No great progress could be made in the Sciences by means of
Anticipations, even if all the abilities of all ages were to unite and to
combine their labours and transmit them downward ; because errors
which are radical, and have their seat in the first digestive process of
the mind, cannot be cured by the excellence of the functions and
remedies which are subsequent.

xxxi. It is vain to expect a great increase in knowledge from the
superinducing and ingrafting of new things upon the old ; but a new
beginning must be made from the lowest foundations, unless we wish
to be continually revolving in a circle, with a trifling and almost con
temptible advance.

xxxii. The honour of the ancient authorities, and indeed of all,
remain untouched ; for the comparison now introduced is not one of
abilities or powers, but of method ; and we ourselves do not sustain
the character of a judge, but of a guide.

xxxiii. No correct judgment (we must speak openly) can be formed,
either of our method or the discoveries made in conformity with it, by
means si Anticipations (I mean the method which is in use), since we
ought not to be required to come under judgment of that very system
which we are calling in question.

256 NOVUM ORGANUM.

xxxiv. Nor is it an easy matter to deliver or explain what we bring
forward ; for that which is new in itself will nevertheless be under
stood by reference to the old.

xxxv. Borgia said of the expedition of the French into Italy, that
they came with chalk in their hands to mark their quarters, and not
with arms to force their way. And so it is our plan that our teaching
should quietly make its entrance into minds fit for and capable of
receiving it : for there is no use in confuting those with whom we
differ about first principles and conceptions themselves, and even
about the forms of demonstration,

xxxvi. Still one means of delivering our sentiments, and that a
simple one, remains to us ; viz., to bring men to actual particulars,
their series and orders ; and that they again should impose on them
selves, for a time, a renunciation of notions, and begin to acquaint
themselves with actual things.

xxxvii. The method of those who hold the doctrine of Acatalepsy,
and our way, agree in a certain measure at starting ; but in their
results they are widely separated and opposed : for they simply assert
the impossibility of all knowledge ; we assert the impossibility of
much knowledge of Nature by the method which is now in use : they
forthwith destroy the authority of sense and intellect; we think out,
and supply aids for the same.

xxxviii. Idola and false conceptions which have hitherto occupied
the intellect of man, and are deeply planted therein, not only so beset
the minds of men that it is difficult for truth to obtain an entrance,
but even when entrance has been granted and allowed, they will again
meet us in the very instauration of the Sciences, and be troublesome,
unless men are forewarned, and fortify themselves against them, as
far as it can be done.

xxxix. There are four kinds of idola which beset the minds of men ;
and, with a view to distinctness, we have given them names, and have
called the first kind "idola of the tribe ;" the second, " idola of the
cavern ;" the third, "idola of the market-place;" the fourth, " idola
of the theatre."

xl. To draw out conceptions and axioms by a true induction is cer
tainly the proper remedy for repelling and removing idola; but still
it is of great advantage to indicate the idola. For the doctrine of
idola holds the same position in the interpretation of Nature, as that
of the confutation of sophisms does in common Logic.

xli. The idola of the tribe have their foundation in human nature
itself, and in the very tribe or race of man. For it is a false assertion
that human sense is the measure of things ; on the contrary, all per
ceptions, both of sense and also of mind, are referred to man as their
measure, and not to the universe. And the human intellect is like an
uneven mirror on which the rays of objects fall, and which mixes up
its own nature with that of the object, and distorts and destroys it.

xlii. The idola of the cavern are the idola peculiar to the individual,
tor each man has (besides the generic aberrations belonging to his
human nature) some individual cavern or den which breaks and cor-

ORGANUAf. 257

rupts the light of Nature ; either by reason of his peculiar and indi
vidual nature, or of his education and intercourse with others, or of
the reading of books and the several authorities of those whom he
studies and admires ; or by reason of differences of impressions as
they arise in a mind preoccupied and predisposed, or in a mind of
even and sedate temperament, or the like ; so that evidently the spirit
of man (according to its disposition in each individual) is variable,
completely confused, and, as it were, the plaything of chance: whence
Heraclitus has well said, " Men seek knowledge in lesser worlds, and
not in the greater or common one."

xliii. There are also idola arising, as it were, from the mutual inter
course and society of mankind, and these we call idola of the market
place ^ on account of their reference to the commerce and association
of men. For speech is the means of intercourse among men ; but
words are imposed upon us according to popular acceptation. And
so a bad and foolish imposition of words comes strangely to obstruct
the mind. Nor do definitions and explanations, with which the learned
have been wont to fortify and clear themselves in some instances, in
any way restore the matter to its proper footing. Hut words plainly
put constraint upon the intellect, and throw all into confusion, and
lead men into vain and innumerable controversies and fallacies.

xliv. Lastly, there are idola which have passed into the minds of
men out of the different dogmas of philosophical systems, and even
from the perverted laws of demonstrations, and these we call idola of
the theatre : for we consider all the philosophic systems hitherto re
ceived or invented as so many plays brought on the stage and acted
out, creating each its fictitious and scenic world. Nor do we speak
of the systems at present in fashion alone, or even of the old philo
sophies and sects, since very many plays of the same kind might be
put together and harmonized; for errors the most diverse have never
theless, for the most part, common causes. Nor, again, do we under
stand this of complete philosophies alone, but even of very many prin
ciples and axioms of the Sciences, which have obtained strength from
tradition, credulity, and neglect. But we must speak more distinctly,
and at large, of each of these kinds of idola, that the human Intellect
may be put on its guard.

xlv. '1 he human Intellect, from its peculiar nature, easily supposes
a greater order and equality in things than it actually finds ; and,
while there arc many thing?; in Nature unique, and quite irregular,
still it feigns parallels, correspondents, and relations which have no
existence. Hence that fiction, " that among the heavenly bodies all
motion takes place by perfect circles," spirals and eccentrics being
altogether rejected (except in name). Hence the clement of fire, with
its orb, is introduced to make up the quaternion with the remaining
three which are exposed to our senses. And further, to the elements
(as they are called) there is arbitrarily assigned a progression in rarity
increasing by powers of ten, and other fancies of this kind. Nor does
this trifling prevail in dogmas only, but even in simple conceptions.

xlvi. The human Intellect, in those things which have once pleased

17

258 NOVUM ORGANUM.

it (either because they are generally received and believed, or because
they suit the taste), brings everything else to support and agree with
them ; and though the weight and number of contradictory instances
be superior, still it either overlooks or despises them, or gets rid of
them by creating distinctions, not without great and injurious pre
judice, that the authority of these previous conclusions may be main
tained inviolate. And so he made a good answer, who, when he was
shown, hung up in the temple, the votive tablets of those who had
fulfilled their vows after escaping from shipwreck, and was pressed
with the question, " Did he not then recognize the will of the gods?"
asked, in his turn, " But where are the pictures of those who have
perished, notwithstanding their vows?" The same holds true of
almost every superstition — as astrology, dreams, omens, judgments,
and the like — wherein men, pleased with such vanities, attend to those
events which are fulfilments ; but neglect and pass over the instances
where they fail (though this is much more frequently the case). But
this evil insinuates itself with far more subtlety in Philosophy and the
Sciences, in which anything which is once approved vitiates every
thing else and reduces it to subjection (though the latter be much
surer and more powerful). Moreover, even supposing this self-pleasing
and vanity, of which we have spoken, to be absent, still such is the
peculiar and continual disposition to error of the human Intellect,
that it is more moved and roused by affirmations than negations, when
it ought in due order to treat both impartially ; nay, in establishing
any true Axiom, the influence of the negative instance is the greater.

xlvii. The human Intellect is most moved by those things which
can strike and enter the mind simultaneously and suddenly; by which
the fancy is usually filled and inflated ; it then in some way, though
quite imperceptibly, represents and supposes everything else to be
similarly constituted to those few objects by which the mind is beset ;
but the intellect is exceedingly slow, and unfit for that transition to
remote and heterogeneous influences by which Axioms are proved as
by fire, unless the office be imposed upon it by strict laws and force
of authority.

xlviii. The human Intellect is unquiet, and cannot halt or rest, but
presses onward, yet in vain. And so we cannot conceive any extreme
or limit to the universe, but it always occurs, as if a necessity, that
there must be something beyond. Nor, again, can we conceive how
eternity has flowed down to this present day, since the distinction
which is usually received between the infinite " a parte ante" and " a
part 'e post" cannot by any means stand, since it would thence follow
that one infinity is greater than another infinity, and so that infinity
may be lessening and verging to the finite. There is a similar subtlety
as regards the divisibility of lines, arising from the impotence of
thought. But this impotence of mind interferes with more pernicious
results in the discovery of causes ; for though the highest universals
in Nature ought to be positive, just as they are discovered, and are
not really referable to causation, yet the human Intellect, incapable
of resting, still seeks something better known. But then, whilst aim-

NOVUM ORGANUM. 259

ing at what is further off, it falls back to what is nearer, viz., to final
causes, which clearly have their origin rather in the nature of man
than that of the universe, and from this source they have wonderfully
corrupted philosophy. But it is the mark of a philosopher as unskilled
as he is shallow to look for causes in the highest universals, and not
to require them in subordinate and lower truths.

xlix. The human Intellect is not of the character of a dry light, but
receives a tincture from the will and affections, which generates
" sciences after its own will ;" for man more readily believes what he
wishes to be true. And so it rejects difficult things, from impatience
of inquiry ; — sober things, because they narrow hope ; — the deeper
things of Nature, from superstition ; — the light of experience, from
arrogance and disdain, lest the mind should seem to be occupied with
worthless and changing matters ;— paradoxes, from a fear of the
opinion of the vulgar :— in short, the affections enter and corrupt the
intellect in innumerable ways, and these sometimes imperceptible.

1. But by far the greatest hindrance and aberration of the human
Intellect proceeds from the dulness, incompetency, and fallacies of the
senses, so that those things which strike the sense outweigh those
which do not do so directly, although these latter be the more weighty.
And thus contemplation generally ends with sight, so that there is
little or no observation of invisible objects. Hence all operations of
spirits enclosed in tangible bodies are concealed, and escape the
notice of men. All the more subtle changes, moreover, in the dis
position of the parts of grosser things (which we commonly call
alteration, while it is really motion fcr minima}, lie concealed in like
manner ; and yet unless the two operations we have mentioned be ex
plored and brought into the light, no great results can be accomplished
in Nature. Again, the very nature of common air, and of all bodies
whose density is less than that of air (and they are very many), is
nearly unknown. For sense by itself is a weak thing and liable to
error; nor are instruments of much use for enlarging the powers of
the senses, or sharpening them ; but all true interpretation of Nature
is brought about by instances, and fit and appropriate experiments,
where the sense judges only of the experiment, the experiment of
Nature and the thing itself.

li. The human Intellect is by its own nature prone to abstractions,
and imagines those things which are variable to be constant. But it
is better to dissect Nature than to resolve her into abstractions, as
did the school of Democritus, which penetrated farther into Nature
than did the rest. We should rather consider matter, its dispositions
and changes of disposition, its simple action and law of action, or
motion : for forms are figments of the human mind, unless we choose
to call these laws of actions forms.

lii. Of this kind, therefore, are the idola which we rail the idola of
the tribCi which have their origin either in the uniformity of the sub
stance of man's spirit, or in its prejudices, or in its narrowness, or in
its restlessness, or in its being coloured by the affections, or in the
incompetency of the senses, or in the manner of the impression.

260 NOVUM ORGANUM.

liii. The idola of the cavern take their rise from the peculiar nature
of each individual both in mind and body, and also from education,
habit, and accident. And although this class of idola is varied and
manifold, yet we will set forth those cases in which caution is most
needed, and which have the greatest influence in corrupting the purity
of the intellect.

liv. Mankind are attached to particular sciences and trains of
thought, either because they believe themselves to have originated
and discovered them, or because they have bestowed their greatest
labour upon them, and have become most familiar with them. But
if men of this kind betake themselves to philosophy and the contem
plation of generalities, they distort them by their former fancies, and
so corrupt them ; as is most especially conspicuous in Aristotle, who has
made his Natural Philosophy so completely subservient to his Logic as
to render it nearly useless, and a mere vehicle for controversy. The
chemists, on the other hand, out of a few experiments of the furnace,
have constructed a philosophy at once fantastic and limited in its
range. Gilbert, moreover, after he had employed himself most
laboriously in the consideration of the magnet, forthwith contrived a
system of philosophy in accordance with the subject in which he him
self felt so overwhelming an interest.

Iv. The greatest and, as it were, the radical distinction between
minds, as far as philosophy and the sciences are concerned, is this :
that some are stronger and more fitted for marking the differences of
things ; others, for noting their resemblances. For constant and
acute dispositions can fix their thoughts, can pause, and fasten upon
every subtlety of difference ; but those that are lofty and discursive
recognize and compare even the most delicate and general resem
blances ; while each falls easily into excess, by grasping either at the
nice differences of things or at shadows.

Ivi. Some dispositions are possessed with an excessive admiration
of what is old, others pour themselves out in the vehement desire to
embrace what is new ; but few possess the temperament necessary to
preserve the middle course, so as neither to pluck up what has been
rightly laid down by the ancients, nor to despise what has been rightly
added by the moderns. Now this causes great detriment to the
Sciences and Philosophy, since it gives us party views, rather than
fair judgments, on questions of antiquity and novelty, whereas truth
ought not to be sought from the felicity of any particular time, which
is variable, but from the light of Nature and Experience, which is
eternal. And so these party-likings are to be renounced ; and we
must take heed lest the intellect be carried away by them into
consent.

Ivii. The consideration of Nature and of bodies in their simple
forms breaks up and distracts the intellect ; but the consideration of
Nature and of bodies in their compound state, and in their configura
tions, stupefies and relaxes it. This is best seen in the school of
Leucippus and Democritus, as compared with the other systems of
philosophy. For that school is so occupied with treating of the

NOVUM ORGAKUM. 261

particles of things as almost to neglect their general structure, while
the others look with such astonishment upon the structures that they
do not penetrate to the simple forms of Nature ; these two kinds of
contemplation should, therefore, be interchanged and taken in turn,
that the intellect may be rendered at once penetrating and capacious,
ami that the inconveniences which we have mentioned, and the idola
springing out of them, may be avoided.

Iviii. Let us, therefore, exercise this foresight in our contemplations,
in keeping at a distance and getting rid of the idola of the cave, which
mostly arise from some predominating influence, from excess in com
position and division, from party-liking for particular times, or from
the magnitude or minuteness of the object. And, as a general rule,
every one who contemplates the nature of things should distrust
whatever most readily takes and holds captive his own intellect, and
should use so much the more caution in coming to determinations of
this kind, that his understanding may remain impartial and clear.

lix. Hut the idola of the market-place are the most troublesome of
all ; those, namely, which have crept into the understanding from the
association of words and names. For men believe that their reason
governs words : but it also happens that words have a reflex action of
their own upon the understanding ; and this has rendered Philosophy
and the Sciences sophistical and inactive. Now words are for the
most part used in accordance with the popular acceptation, and define
things by lines most obvious to the popular intellect. When, however,
a sharper intellect, or a more diligent observer wishes to shift these
lines, and to place them more according to Nature, words cry out
against it. Whence it happens that great and grand discussions of
learned men often end in controversies about words and names, while
it would be more advisable to start from these (according to the
prudent custom of the Mathematicians), and to reduce them to order
by definitions. And yet these definitions, in the case of natural and
material things, cannot cure this evil, since both definitions themselves
consist of words, and words beget words ; so that it is necessary to
recur to particular instances, and their series and orders, as we shall
presently mention, when we shall have come to the manner and plan
of constituting conceptions and axioms.

Ix. Idola, which arc imposed on the intellect by means of words, are
of two kinds ; either they arc the names of things which have no
existence (for as there are things without names through want of
observation, so there are also names without things through fanciful
supposition;, or they are names of things which do exist, but are con
fused and ill-defined, and hastily and partially abstracted from things.
Of the former kind are — Chance, the primitm mobile, the Orbits of
the Planets, the Element of Fire, and figments of the like kind, which
have their rise in vain and false theories; and this class of idola is the
more easily got rid of, because they can be exterminated by a constant
refutation of the theories and by their becoming obsolete.

Hut the other kind, which is caused by bad and unskilful abstraction,
is intricate, and takes a deep hold. E.g •., take some word (mois^ if

262 NOVUM ORGANUM.

you please), and let us see how the different things signified by this
word agree with one another ;— we shall find that that word moist is
nothing but a confused symbol of different actions, which admit of no
consistency or reduction to rule, For it signifies that which readily
spreads itself round another body ; that which is in itself undetermin
able and has no consistence; that which yields easily in all directions ;
that which readily divides and disperses itself; that which easily
collects and unites itself; that which flows and is set in motion
readily ; that which readily adheres to another body, and makes it
wet ; that which is readily reduced to a liquid state, or melts, when it
before possessed consistency. And so when we come to predicate or
employ this name : if we take one sense, flame is moist ; if another,
air is not moist ; if another, fine powder is moist ; if another, glass is
moist ; so that it readily appears that this conception is hastily
abstracted from water only, and from common and ordinary liquids,
and without any due verification.

But more — there are in words certain degrees of faultiness and
error. A less faulty kind is that of the names of some substance,
especially of infimce species, and these well deduced (for the concep
tions of chalk and mud are good, that of earth, bad) ; more faulty is
the class of actions, as generation^ corruption, alteration; most faulty
that of qualities (with the exception of the immediate objects of sense),
as heavy, light, rare, dense, &c. ; and yet, among all these, some
conceptions must be a little better than others, according as a greater
or less number of things strikes the sense of man.

Ixi. But the idola of the theatre are not innate, nor have they
secretly insinuated themselves into the intellect, but are plainly intro
duced and received from the .plays of theory, and perverse laws of
demonstrations. To attempt, however, or to undertake their confuta
tion would be by no means consistent with our previous declarations.
For seeing that we agree neither in first principles, nor yet in demon
strations, all discussion is at an end. And this is fortunate, for so the
ancients preserve their rightful honour. For they suffer no detraction,
since the question is exclusively of the path to be pursued. For a
lame man (as the saying goes), in the right path, outstrips the swift
runner out of it. And it is manifestly clear that, when a man is
running out of the right road, his superior skill and swiftness will lead
him proportionately further astray, But our method of discovering
the Sciences is such as to leave little to the sharpness and strength of
men's wits, but to bring all wits and intellects nearly to a level. For
as in drawing a straight line, or describing an accurate circle by the
unassisted hand, much depends on its steadiness and practice, but if
a rule or a pair of compasses be applied, little or nothing depends
upon them, so exactly is it with our method. Now although it is of
no use to descend to individual confutations, still we must say some
thing of the sects and classes of theories of this sort, and afterwards
something concerning the external tokens of their weakness ; and,
lastly, we must say a little about the causes of so great a misfortune,
and of so long and general an agreement in error, that the approach

NOVVM OKGANUAf. 263

to the truth may be rendered less difficult, and the human Intellect be
more readily purified, and brought to dismiss its idola.

Ixii. The idola of the theatre, or of theories, are numerous, and
may, and perhaps will, some day be more so. For if men's minds
had not been, these many generations, occupied with religion and
theology, and had not civil politics also (especially monarchies) been
so averse to such novelties, even in matters of contemplation, that if
men apply themselves to them, they must do so with risk and injury
to their fortunes, and not only go without reward, but expose them
selves to derision and ill-will ; had this not been the case, without
doubt, many other sects of philosophers and theories would have been
introduced, similar to those which once flourished in great variety
among the Greeks. For, as many systems of the heavens may be
fabricated out of the phenomena of the sky, so likewise, in a much
greater degree, may dogmas of different kinds be founded and built
up on the phenomena of philosophy. And plays of this kind of
Theatre have this also in common with those current in the Theatre
of the poets, that the stories invented for the stage are neater, more
elegant, and more agreeable to the taste than the true stories of
history.

In general, however, in preparing the subject-matter of Philosophy,
men either draw a great deal from a few instances, or a little from a
great number ; so that, in either case, Philosophy is founded on too
narrow a basis of experience and natural history, and dogmatizes on
too insufficient evidence. For the " rational " class of philosophizes
seize various common circumstances from experience, without ascer
taining them for certain, or diligently examining and weighing them ;
they leave the rest to reflection and activity of wit.

There is another class of philosophers who have worked diligently
and accurately in a few experiments, and have ventured thence to
educe and construct systems of philosophy : twisting everything else
into agreement with them after a wonderful fashion.

There is also a third class, who, influenced by faith and a spirit of
veneration, introduce theology and traditions ; some of whom, in their
folly, have gone so far out of the way as to seek and to derive the
Sciences from spirits, forsooth, and genii : so that the source of error,
like the false philosophy, is of three kinds, sophistical, empirical, and
superstitious.

Ixiii. We have a most conspicuous example of the first class in
Aristotle, who has corrupted Natural Philosophy with his Logic; —
thus he has made the Universe out of Categories ; has assigned to
the human soul — that noblest of substances — a genus from words of
second intention ; determined the question of density and rarity, by
which bodies occupy greater and less dimensions or spaces, by the
cold distinction between act and power; asserted that each body has
its peculiar and proper motion, and that, if it partakes of another
motion, it is moved from another source ; and has conferred countless
other laws upon the nature of things at his own will : being everywhere
more anxious to show how a man may extricate himself from a

264 NOVUM ORGANUM.

difficulty by an answer, and some positive reply may be rendered in
words, than solicitous about the inner truth of things ; as is best shown
by comparing his philosophy with the other philosophies which were
famous among the Greeks. For the similar constituent parts of
Anaxagoras, the atoms of Leucippus and Democritus, the heaven and
earth of Parmenides, the strife and friendship of Empcdocles, the
resolution of bodies into the indifferent nature of fire and rccondensa-
tion of the same, of Heraclitus, show something of the natural
philosopher, and savour of the nature of things, of experience, and
of the study of bodies ; while the Physics of Aristotle are nothing
more than the echo of his Dialectics ; and he has also, in his Meta
physics, again treated these under a more imposing title, and more as
a Realist, forsooth, than a Nominalist. Nor let much importance be
given to the fact that in his Books on Animals, and in the Pu b'emata,
and in his other treatises, frequent recourse is had to exj enments.
For he had previously made up his mind, without having properly
consulted experience for the purpose of establishing his decisions and
axioms ; but after coming to an arbitrary decision, he twists experience
to suit his views, dragging her about with him as his captive. So '.hat,
even on this head, he is more open to accusation than his followers in
modern times (the race of scholastic philosophers), who have altogether
abandoned experience.

Ixiv. But the empiric school of philosophy produces conceits more
deformed and monstrous than the sophistic or rational, inasmuch as it
is founded not on the light of vulgar conceptions (which, although
slight and superficial, is yet in a manner universal and generally perti
nent), but on a few narrow and obscure experiments. And so such a
philosophy appears probable and almost certain to those who are daily
occupied in experiments of this kind, and have by that very means
corrupted their imagination : to all others it appears incredible and
vain. A notable example of this is to be seen in the chemists and
their dogmas ; however, this is scarcely to be found, at the present day,
elsewhere than perhaps in the philosophy of Gilbert. But still a caution
as to the philosophies of this kind was by no means to be omitted,
because we already foresee and prophesy, that if ever men should be
roused by our advice to devote themselves seriously to experience, and
bid farewell to sophistical teaching ; then a great danger will be immi
nent from this kind of philosophy, on account of the premature and
rash haste of the intellect, and its jumping and flying to generalities
and the first principles of things. This evil we ought even now to
meet.

Ixv. But the corruption of philosophy by the admixture of super
stition and theology spreads much further, and introduces the greatest
mischief into systems of philosophy, whether considered as complete
or in their parts. For the human Intellect is no less exposed to the
impressions of fancy than to those of vulgar conceptions. For the
disputatious and sophistical school of philosophy ensnares the intel
lect ; but the other, which is fanciful and turgid, and as it were
poetical, rather flatters it. For there is inherent in man's intellect, no

NOVUM OKGANUAf. 265

less than in his will, a certain ambition, and this is especially the case
with piofound and lofty minds. An example of this kind is veiy
apparent among the Greeks, especially in Pythagoras : here, however,
it is combined with a more gross and burdensome superstition ; while
it is more dangerous and more subtle in Plato and his school. This
kind of mischief also appears in parts of the other Philosophies — in
the introduction of abstract forms, final causes, and//>.r/ causes, in the
very frequent omission of middle, causes, and the like. But in this
matter the greatest caution must be employed, for the apotheosis of
error is the worst of all evils ; and it must be esteemed as the very
plague of the intellect when vanity comes to be worshipped. But some
of the moderns, however, have indulged in this folly, with such con
summate carelessness, as to have endeavoured to found a natural
philosophy on the first chapter of Genesis, the book of Job, and other
passages of Holy Scripture — ''seeking the dead among the living."
And this folly is the more to be prevented and restrained, because,
from the unsound admixture of things divine and human, there arises
not merely a phantastic philosophy, but also a heretical religion. And
so it is a very salutary thing, with all sobriety of mind, to render unto
faith those things only that are faith's.

Ixvi. We have already spoken of the vicious authorities of philoso
phers which are founded either on vulgar conceptions, on a few ex
periments, or on superstition. We must iurthcr speak of the faulty
materials of contemplation, especially in Natural Philosophy. For
the human Intellect is affected by observing the action of the
mechanical arts, where bodies arc changed in the highest possible
degree by composition and separation, so that it thinks that some
similar process is going on in the universal nature of things. And
hence arose that fiction of elements, and of their meeting to form
natural bodies. Again, when man contemplates the liberty of Nature,
he comes upon species of things, of animals, plants, minerals, and
thence he easily glides into the idea that there are in Nature certain
primary forms of things which Nature is striving to draw out ; and
that all the variety proceeds either from impediments and aberrations
which Nature meets with in completing her task, or from the collision
of different species, and the transplanting of one into the other. And
the first idea has given birth to the first elementary qualities, the
second, to the occult properties and specific virtues : and each of
them refers to empty compendia of contemplation, with which the mind
rests contented, and is diverted from more solid subjects. But phy
sicians employ their labour to better advantage on secondary qualities
and operations of things, as attraction, repulsion, rarijication, conden
sation, astriction, discussion, maturation, and the like ; and would have
succeeded much better had they not, by means of these two compendia
which I have mentioned — that is to say, elementary qualities and
specific virtues — corrupted those of the second kind, which have been
the subject of true investigation, by reducing them to first qualities,
and their subtle and incommensurable combinations ; or else by not
carrying them on, with a wider and more diligent observation, to third

266 NOVUM ORGANUM.

and fourth qualities ; but, instead of this, unseasonably interrupting
their contemplation. Nor are virtues of this kind (I do not speak of
those which are identical, but of those which are similar) only to be
investigated among the medicines of the human body, but also in the
changes of other natural bodies.

But a much greater evil arises from the fact that the quiescent first
principles of things out of which, and not the motive principles by
ivhith things have their being, are the subjects of contemplation and
inquiry. For the former refer only to discussion, the latter to results.
Nor are these vulgar distinctions of any value which are set down as
acknowledged in natural philosophy, such as generation^ corruption,
augmentation, diminution, alteration, and translation. For, indeed,
they mean this, that if a body, not otherwise moved, be yet moved in
place, this is translation; if it be changed in quality, its place and
species remaining, this '^alteration; but if after that change the mass
itself and the bulk do not remain the same, this is the motion of aug
mentation or diminution ; and if the change goes so far as to affect
both species and substance, and cause a transference into others, this
is generation and corruption. But these are merely popular phrases,
and do not pierce below the surface of Nature, and they are measures
only and periods, not species of motion. For they only suggest the
question, "how far," not "in what manner," or "from what source."
For they show us nothing of the affections of bodies, or the procession
of their parts, but only commence their distinctions from the moment
when that motion exhibits grossly the thing, in its altered condition,
to the sense. And when they wish to tell us something about the
cause of motions, and to institute a division among them, they introduce
a distinction between natural and violent motion in the most slovenly
way ; and this itself arises from a vulgar conception, since all violent
motion is also, in fact, natural, inasmuch as it takes place when an
external agent puts Nature into operation otherwise than before.

But— leaving these — if any one (for example) were to observe that
there is in bodies a mutual affection for contact, which will not allow
the unity of nature to be entirely taken away or cut off, so as to form
a vacuum ; or if any one were to say that there is in bodies an affec
tion for restoring themselves to their natural dimensions or extension,
so that on being compressed within it, or stretched beyond it, they
immediately endeavour to recover and restore themselves to their
original volume and extent ; or if any one were to say that there is in
bodies a tendency to congregate towards kindred masses, viz., dense
bodies towards the earth, the thinner and rarer to the expanse of the
heavens ; these and the like are really physical kinds of motions. But
those others are clearly logical and scholastic, as is evident from this
comparison of them.

Nor is it a less evil, that, in their philosophies and contemplations,
men spend their labour in investigating and treating of the first
principles of things and the extreme limits of nature, when all that is
useful and of avail in operation is to be found in what is intermediate.
Hence it happens that men continue to abstract Nature till they arrive

NOVUM ORGANUM. 267

at potential and unformed matter : and, again, they continue to divide
Nature, until they have arrived at the atom ; things which, even if
true, can be of little use in helping on the fortunes of men.

Ixvii. The Intellect must also be cautioned against the intemper
ance of philosophers in granting or withholding consent ; because
intemperance of this kind seems to fix idola, and in a manner to render
them permanent, so as to prevent all approach for the purpose of
removing them.

Now this excess is of two kinds : the first appears in those who
dogmatize promptly, and render the Sciences positive and magisterial ;
the second, in those who introduce Acatalepsy; and a vague and end
less inquiry. Of these, the former depresses the intellect, the latter
enervates it. For the Philosophy of Aristotle, having murdered the
other systems (as the Turks serve their brethren) with quarrelsome
confutations, has dogmatized on each separate point : and he himself
again introduces questions at his own will, and then despatches them,
that everything may be sure and determined ; a practice which obtains
and is in use among his successors.

But it was the school of Plato that introduced Acatalepsy, first as if
in jest and irony, out of dislike for the old sophists, Protagoras,
Hippias, and the rest, who feared nothing so much as the appearance
of doubt on any subject. But the new Academy raised Acatalepsy
into a dogma, and held it as a doctrine. And though this method of
proceeding be more honest than the licence of dogmatizing, since they
profess that they are far from confounding inquiry, as Pyrrho and the
Ephectics did, but have something to follow as probable, though they
have nothing to retain as true ; still, when the human mind has once
despaired of finding truth, its action on everything around it becomes
more languid ; whence it happens that men turn aside to agreeable
controversies and discourses, and wander, as it were, from one thing
to another, rather than sustain any severe injury. But as we said in
the beginning, and are continually urging, we must not deprive the
human senses and understanding, infirm though they be, of their
authority, but must provide aids for them.

Ixviii. And now we have spoken of the several kinds of idola, and
their belongings ; all of which must be renounced and abjured with a
constant and solemn determination, and the Intellect entirely freed
and purged from them, so that the approach to the Kingdom of Man,
which is founded on the Sciences, may be like that to the Kingdom of
Heaven, into which none may enter save in the character of a little
child.

Ixix. But faulty demonstrations are, as it were, the strongholds and
defences of idola; and those which we have in Logic come little short
of making over the universe in bondage to human thoughts, and of
giving thoughts in bondage to words. But demonstrations are, in
their potentiality, the Philosophies themselves, and the Sciences. For
such as they arc, and as they arc rightly or wrongly constituted, such
are the resulting Philosophies and Contemplations. But those which
we employ in the whole of that process, which leads from sense and

268 NOVUM ORGANUM.

things to axioms and conclusions, are fallacious and insufficient. And
this process is fourfold, both in its action and its faults. In the first
place, the impressions of the sense itself are faulty, for the sense both
Jails and deceives us. Now its failures should be supplied, and its
deceptions rectified. In the second place, notions are abstracted in a
faulty manner from impressions of the senses, and they are undeter
mined and confused where they should be determined and well-defined .
In the third place, that induction is faulty which infers the first princi
ples of the Sciences by simple enumeration, without applying the clue
exclusions and solutions, or separations, of Nature. Lastly, that method
of discovery and proof, in which the most general principles are first
established, and then middle axioms are introduced and proved by
them, is the parent of errors, and the ruin of all Sciences. But of these
things, which we now touch upon but lightly, we shall speak more
fully, when, having finished these expiations and purgations of the
mind, we come to set forth the true way of interpreting Nature.

Ixx. But by far the best demonstration is Experience, provided it
adheres to actual experiment. For if it be transferred to other cases
which are thought to be similar, unless that transfer be made duly and
in order, it is a fallacious thing. But the method of consulting Ex
perience which men now employ is blind and stupid. And so, while
they go wandering and roaming about without any certain path, taking
counsel only from chance circumstances, they are carried about in
many directions, but make little advance ; sometimes they are in good
spirits, sometimes they are distracted ; and they are always discovering
something beyond to be sought. Now it commonly happens that men
seek Experience carelessly, and, as it were, in sport, slightly varying
experiments already known ; and if the matter does not turn out well,
getting disgusted, and giving up the attempt. And if they apply
themselves more seriously, steadily, and laboriously to experiment,
still they bestow their labour in working out some one experiment, as
Gilbert has done with the magnet, the chemists with gold. And in
doing this they show their design to be as unskilful as it is slight. For
no one is fortunate in investigating the nature of anything in the thing
itself, but the inquiry must be widened so as to reach what is more
general.

But even when they do labour to construct some Science and dogmas
out of experiments, they nevertheless almost always turn aside with
an over-hasty and unseasonable eagerness to practice ; not only for
the sake of the use and fruits of that practice, but that they may secure
in some new work a sort of pledge for themselves that they will not be
employing themselves unprofitably in what remains behind ; and also
to puff themselves off to others, that they may obtain a better reputa
tion for the business with which they are occupied. So it happens
that, like Atalanta, they swerve from the path to pick up the golden
apple, and in the meanwhile interrupt their race, and let the victory
slip out of their hands. But in the true course of Experience, and the
carrying it forward to fresh works, the Divine Wisdom and Order
should be taken in all respects as an example. For God, on the first

NOVUM ORGANUM. 269

clay of the creation, created light only, and allowed a whole day for
that work ; nor did He create anything material on that day. In like
manner, in every kind of Experience we must first elicit the discovery
of causes and true axioms, and must look for experiments which pro
duce light, and not those which produce fruit. Now axioms, when
rightly discovered and constructed, furnish a practice which is not
restricted but copious, and draw after them bands and troops of results.
But concerning the ways of seeking Experience, which are no less
beset, and blocked up, than are the ways of exercising judgment, we
shall speak hereafter ; at present we have only been mentioning ordi
nary Experience as a faulty kind of demonstration. But now the order
of things requires that we should add a few remarks concerning those
signs which we mentioned a short time ago (signs that the Philosophies
and Contemplations now in use are faulty), and concerning rtie causes
of a fact which at first sight appears so strange and incredible. For
a knowledge of signs prepares the way for assent ; an explanation of
causes removes the marvel. And these two things aid much in
rendering the extirpation of idola from the understanding more easy
and gentle.

Ixxi. The Sciences which we possess have come down to us
principally from the Greeks. For what has been added by Roman,
Arab, or later writers, is neither much, nor of great moment ; but
such as it is, is founded on the discoveries of the Greeks. Now the
wisdom of the Greeks was professorial, and given to disputations— a
character most adverse to inquiry after truth ; and so that title of
Sophist, which was contemptuously thrown back and transferred to
the ancient rhetoricians, Gorgias, Protagoras, Ilippias, Polus, by those
who wished to be esteemed philosophers, suits also the whole class,
1'lato, Aristotle, Xeno, Epicurus, Theophrastus, and their successors,
Chrysippus, Carneades, and the rest. There was this difference only,
that the former class was vagrant and mercenary, perambulating the
different states, parading their wisdom, and exacting a price for it ;
while the latter was more staid and liberal, in that its members had
fixed residence, opened schools, and taught Philosophy for nothing.
Both kinds, however, though differing in other respects, were pro
fessorial ; both degraded the matter into disputation, both instituted
certain philosophical facts and heresies, and did battle for them ; so
that their teachings were almost (as Dionysius has not inaptly objected
Against Plato) " words of idle old men to inexperienced youth." But
those older Greeks, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, Leucippus, Democritus,
Parmenides, Heraclitus, Xenophanes, Philolaus, and the rest (for we
omit Pythagoras as superstitious), opened no schools that we know of,
but betook themselves to the inquiry after truth with greater silence,
with more severity and simplicity, that is, with less affectation anil
parade. And so theirs, in our judgment, was the better course, were
at not that their works have been extinguished in the course of time
•by those of shallower men, who are more successful in responding to
and pleasing the apprehension and feelings of the many; time, like a
river, bringing down to us things which are lighter and more inflated,

270 NOVUM ORGANUM.

but letting what is more weighty and solid sink. And yet even they
were not altogether free from the vice of their nation, but inclined too
much to the ambition and vanity of founding a sect, and catching
popular applause. Now the inquiry after truth must be considered
desperate when it turns aside after trifles of this kind. Nor should
we omit that judgment, or rather oracular utterance, of the Egyptian
priest about the Greeks :—" That they were always children, and
possessed neither antiquity of knowledge, nor knowledge of antiquity."
And certainly they have this characteristic of children, that they are
prompt at prattling, but cannot generate ; for their wisdom appears to
be full of words, but barren of results. Hence the signs which are
taken from the origin and generation of the prevalent philosophy are
not good.

Ixxii. Nor are the Signs which may be gathered from the nature of
the time and age much better than those which are obtained from the
nature of the place and nation. For during that age there was but a
narrow and scanty knowledge either of time or the world; which is
an exceeding great fault, especially for those who place all their re
liance in Experience. For they had no history, reaching over a
thousand years, worthy of the name, but fables and rumours of
antiquity. And of the regions and countries of the world they
knew but a small portion ; for instance, they called all the inhabitants
of the north, indiscriminately, Scythians ; all those of the west, Celts ;
they knew nothing in Africa beyond the hither portion of Ethiopia;
nothing in Asia beyond the Ganges. Much less were they acquainted
with the provinces of the New World, even by hearsay, or any certain
and constant report ; yea, and very many climates and zones, in
which innumerable nations live and breathe, were pronounced by
them to be uninhabitable : moreover, the excursions of Democritus,
Plato, and Pythagoras, which were certainly not to a distance, but
rather suburban rambles, were celebrated as something great. But
in our times, both many parts of the New World, and the limits of
the Old on all sides, are familiar to us, and the stock of experiments
has increased to infinity. \Vherefore, if we are to take signs (as the
astrologers do) from the time of their nativity of birth, we find that
nothing of great importance is signified concerning these Philosophies.

Ixxiii. Among Signs, none is more certain or noble than that which
is drawn homfrui/s. For fruits and works stand as sponsors and
sureties for the truth of Philosophies. And from these Philosophies of
the Greeks, and their ramifications through particular Sciences, now,
after the lapse of so many years, scarcely one experiment can be ad
duced, which has for its object the relieving and assisting the condition
of man, and which can be reckoned as really received from the specula
tions and dogmas of Philosophy. And this Celsus ingenuously and
prudently confesses : to wit, that medicines were first discovered by
experiment, and that men afterwards philosophizing on them, traced
out and assigned causes ; and that it did not happen by the inverse
method that experiments themselves were discovered or derived from
Philosophy and the knowledge of causes. And so it was not wonder-

NOVUM ORGANUAf. 271

ful that among the Egyptians, who paid divine honours and celebrated
sacred rites in favour of inventors, there were more images of brute
beasts than of men ; because brute beasts, by their natural instincts,
have originated many discoveries, while men, from their discoveries
and conclusions of reason, have produced few or none.

The industry of the chemists, indeed, has brought to light some few
things ; but these have come as it were accidentally and by the way, or
by some variation of experiments (as is the case with the mechanists),
not from any art or theory, for their contrivances rather confuse ex
periments than assist them. The discoveries also of those who have
practised natural magic, as they call it, are found to be few, and those
worthless and rathe/ akin to imposture. Wherefore the rule, which
in Religion bids us show our faith by our works, may with great pro
priety be transferred to Philosophy ; viz. that it should be judged by
its fruits, and be pronounced empty if it be barren ; and the more so
if, in place of fruits of grape and olive, it produce the thistles and
thorns of disputations and contentions.

Ixxiv. Signs are also to be drawn from the increase and progress of
Philosophies and Sciences. For what is founded on Nature grows
and increases, while what is founded on opinion varies, but docs not
increase. And so, if these doctrines had not clearly been like plants
pulled up by the roots, but had adhered to the womb of Nature, and
been nourished by her, that would never had occurred which we see
has been going on now for two thousand years ; namely, that the
Sciences stand still and remain in nearly the same state; and have
never gained any increase worth mentioning, but have rather thriven
most under their first author, and thenceforth declined : whereas in
the Mechanical Arts, which are founded on Nature and the light of
Experience, we see the contrary come to pass ; for they (as long as
they please) are continually growing and increasing, as if filled with a
kind of life, being at first rude, then convenient, afterwards refined,
and always on the advance.

Ixxv. Again, there is another Sign to be gathered; (if, indeed, it
has a right to the title of sign, when it should properly be called testi
mony, and that of all testimonies the most valid), we refer to the
peculiar confession of the Authorities whom men now-a-days follow.
For even they who dogmatize with so great confidence on things do
yet, when they return to themselves, betake themselves to complaints
concerning the subtlety of Nature, the obscurity of things, and the
infirmity of human wit. Now, if they simply did this, they might per
haps deter the more timid from further inquiry, and yet quicken and
incite others of a more active and confident disposition to a further
advance. But these men are not satisfied with making confession for
themselves, but they set down whatever is unknown or unattained by
themselves or their masters as beyond the limits of possibility; and,
as if on the authority of their art, declare that it is impossible to be
known or done, most presumptuously and invidiously turning the im
perfection of their own discoveries into a libel on Nature herself, and
the despair of every one else. Hence the School of the New

272 NOVUM ORGANUM.

Academy, which professedly held Acatalepsy, and condemned men to
everlasting darkness. Hence the opinion that it is impossible, and be
yond man's power, to discover forms, or the true differences of things
(which are really laws of pure act). Hence those opinions on the
active and operative side, that the Heat of the sun and of fire differ
toto generc ; lest, forsooth, men should think that they can themselves
educe and form, by the operation of fire, anything like the results of
Nature. Hence that idea that composition only is the work of man,
and mixture that of Nature alone ; lest, forsooth, men should expect
from art any generation or transformation of natural bodies. And so,
by this Sign, men will easily allow themselves to be persuaded not to
mix up their fortunes and labours with dogmas which are not only
despaired of, but even devoted to desperation.

Ixxvi. Nor must we neglect the Sign that there was formerly among
philosophers so great dissension, and so great a variety in the Schools
themselves ; a fact that sufficiently shows that the road from the
Sense to the Intellect was not well constructed, since the same ground-
worn of Philosophy (that is to say, the Nature of things) was torn up
and distracted into such vague and manifold errors. And although
in these times dissensions and diversities of opinions on first principles
and entire systems of Philosophy are for the most part extinct, yet
about parts of that Philosophy there remain innumerable questions and
controversies; so that it plainly appears that neither in the systems
of Philosophy themselves nor in the methods of Demonstration is there
anything certain or sound.

Ixxvii. And as to the opinion that in the Philosophy of Aristotle
there is certainly great consent, since after its promulgation the
Philosophies of the ancients ceased and became obsolete, while in
the times which followed nothing better was discovered ; so that
it seems to have been so well laid down and founded as to have
drawn both ages to itself: we reply, in the first place, that the popular
notion of the falling into abeyance of the ancient Philosophies, on the
publication of Aristotle's works, is a false one, for the works of the
older philosophers remained a long while afterwards, even to the time
of Cicero and the ages following. But, in the times which ensued,
when human learning had, so to speak, suffered shipwreck in the
inundation of the Roman Empire by the barbarians, then the Philo
sophies of Aristotle and Plato, like planks of a lighter and less solid
material, were preserved on the waves of time. Moreover that notion
of consent deceives men, as they would see if they only looked a little
more sharply into the matter. For true consent is that which consists
in the coming of unfettered judgments to the same conclusions (the
matter having been previously investigated). But by far the greatest
number of those who have consented to the Philosophy of Aristotle
have enslaved themselves to it from prejudice and the authority of
others, so that theirs is rather obsequiousness and concurrence than
consent : but even if it had been real and widespread consent, so little
right has consent to be received as a true and solid authority, that it
even involves a violent presumption in the opposite direction. For

NOVUM ORGANUM. 273

the worst of all auguries is that which is drawn from agreement in
intellectual matters, with the exception of Divinity and Politics, in
which suffrages have lawful weight. For nothing pleases the many
which does not strike the imagination or bind up the intellect in the
tangles of common conceptions, as we have said above. And so
that saying of Phocion may very well be transferred from moral to
intellectual matter, " That men ought straightway to examine them
selves as to what mistake or fault they have committed, if the multi
tude agree with and applaud them." This Sign, therefore, is one of the
most hostile. So we have here pointed out how weak are the Signs
of the truth and soundness of the systems of Philosophy and the
Sciences now in vogue, whether they be drawn from their origin, from
their fruits, from their progress, from the confessions of their authors,
or from consent.

Ixxviii. But now we must come to the Causes of errors, and of so
long a persistence in them through so many ages. And these are so
very numerous and powerful, as to remove all grounds for surprise
that those observations which we bring forward should have hitherto
lain hid and escaped men's notice ; and it only remains for us to
wonder that these things could, even thus late in the day, have entered
into the mind of any mortal, or have afforded him matter for thought :
and this, as we think, is rather the result of some happy chance than
of any excellence of faculty in ourselves, so that it should be regarded
as the offspring rather of time than of ability.

And first, the number of ages, if we consider the matter justly,
shrinks within very narrow bounds. For out of the twenty-five
centuries over which the memory and learning of mankind principally
range, scarcely six can be picked out and set apart as having been
fruitful in Sciences, or favourable to their progress. There are deserts
and waste grounds in time, no less than in space ; for not more than
three revolutions and periods of learning can properly be counted :
one among the Greeks ; the second among the Romans ; the last
among ourselves— that is to say, the nations of Western Europe : and
to each of these we can scarcely with fairness assign more than two
centuries. The intervening ages of the world, as regards a rich or
flourishing growth of the Sciences, were unfortunate. For there is no
need to mention either the Arabs or the Schoolmen, who, in the
intervals, rather wore down the Sciences with their numerous treatises,
than increased their weight. So, the first cause of so trilling an
advance in the Sciences is rightly and duly referred to the narrow
limits of the time lhat has been favourable to them.

Ixxix. In the second place, a Cause offers itself which is in every
way of great moment ; viz., that in those very ages in which human
wit and literature have flourished most, or even in a moderate degree,
Natural Philosophy has obtained a very small share of attention. And
yet this same Natural Philosophy ought to be n-garded as the great
mother of Sciences. For all the Art* and Sciences, if torn from this
root, are polished, it may be, and fashioned into use, but do not grow
at all. Now, it is manifest that after the Christian Religion had been

18

274 NOVUM ORGANUM.

generally received and come to maturity, by far the greatest propor
tion of the most able minds betook themselves to Theology ; that to
this pursuit were the greatest rewards proposed, and aids of every kind
most plentifully afforded ; and that this zeal for Theology chiefly
occupied that third portion or period of time among us inhabitants of
Western Europe ; the more so, because about the same time both
literature began to flourish and controversies about Religion to spring
up. But in the preceding age, during the continuance of that second
period among the Romans, the meditations and industry of the most
influential philosophers were occupied and consumed on Moral
Philosophy (which stood to the Heathens in the place of Theology),
and at the same time the greatest wits of those days applied them
selves very closely to civil affairs, on account of the magnitude of the
Roman Empire, which needed the services of a great number of men.
But that age, in which Natural Philosophy seemed most to flourish
among the Greeks, was but a very short-enduring particle of time ;
since in the earlier ages those seven, who were called " the Wise," all
(except Thales) applied themselves to Moral Philosophy and Civil
Matters ; and in later times, when Socrates had brought down
Philosophy from heaven to earth, Morals obtained a still stronger
hold, and turned men's minds away from Natural Philosophy.

Nay, that very period itself, in which inquiries concerning Nature
flourished, was corrupted by contradictions and the ambitious display
of new theories, and rendered useless. And so, inasmuch as during
these three periods Natural Philosophy was in a great measure either
neglected or hindered, it is no wonder that men made but little pro
gress in a matter to which they paid no attention.

Ixxx. And to this it may be added that Natural Philosophy, among
those very men who have devoted themselves to it, has scarcely ever
found, especially in these later times, any one at leisure and able to
give it his whole attention, unless, perhaps, we bring forward the
example of some monk studying. in his cell, or some noble in his
country house. But it has been made to serve as a sort of passage
and bridge to other subjects. And that great mother of Sciences has,
with strange indignity, been degraded to the services of a menial,
having to minister to the business of Medicine and Mathematics, and
again to wash and imbue the unripe wits of young men with a sort of
first dye, that they may afterwards receive another more successfully
and conveniently. In the mean time, let no one expect any great
advance in the Sciences (especially in the practical part of them) until
Natural Philosophy shall have been extended to particular Sciences,
and the particular Sciences brought back again to Natural Philoso
phy. For hence it arises that Astronomy, Optics, Music, most of the
Mechanical Arts, Medicine itself, and (what one might more wonder
at) Moral and Civil Philosophy, and the Logical Sciences, have
scarcely any depth, but only glide over the surface and variety of
things ; because, after these particular Sciences have been distributed
and established, they are no longer fed by Natural Philosophy ; which
might have imparted to them new strength and growth from the

NOVUM ORGANUM. 275

sources and true contemplations of motions, rays, sounds, textures
and structures of bodies, affections, and apprehensions of the Intellect.
And so it is very little marvel if the Sciences do not grow, since they
are separated from their roots.

Ixxxi. Again, there appears another potent and weighty cause why
the Sciences have made but little advance. And it is this : it is im
possible to proceed rightly in the course when the goal itself is not
rightly placed and fixed. Now, the true and legitimate goal of the
Sciences is none other than this, to endow human life with new dis
coveries and resources. But the great mass of men feel nothing of
this, but merely work for reward and professionally ; unless, perhaps,
it sometimes happens that some artificer of a sharper wit, and desir
ous of fame, gives his labour to some new invention ; which is
generally done at the expense of his property. But as for most men,
so far are they from proposing to themselves to obtain an addition to
the mass of Sciences and Arts, that from the mass which is at hand
they take and search for nothing more than they can turn to their
professional ends, or to gain, or to reputation, or to advantages of
that kind. And if there be any one out of so great a multitude who
seeks out Science from a sincere affection and for its own sake, still
even he will be found to aim at a variety of contemplations and
teachings, rather than a severe and rigid inquiry after truth. Again,
if any one happen to be a stricter searcher after truth, yet even he will
propose to himself such a condition of truth as may satisfy his mind
and intellect in rendering causes for things known long ago, and not
one which may attain new assurances of results, and a new light of
Axioms ; if. then, the end of knowledge has not hitherto been rightly
laid down by any one, it is not strange that error ensues in what is
subordinate to the end.

Ixxxii. And as men have misplaced the end and goal of the Sciences,
so again, even if it had been rightly placed, yet they have chosen for
themselves a way entirely erroneous and impassable. And it will
strike with astonishment the mind of any one who rightly considers
the matter, that no one has had the care or the heart to open and lay
out for the human Intellect a rightly-ordered and well-constructed way
from actual sense and experience, but that all has been left either to
the darkness of traditions, or to the whirl and eddy of arguments, or
to the fluctuations and windings of chance and of vague and ill-
digested experience. Now, let any one consider, soberly and dili
gently, what sort of a way it is which men have been wont to adopt in
the investigation and discovery of any matter ; and he will first
remark, no doubt, the simple and unworkmanlike character of the
method which is most common among us. It is simply this, that when
a man proposes and addresses himscif to discover anything, he first
inquires and unfolds what has been said about it by others ; then he
adds his own reflections, and with much agitation of mind solicits
and, as it were, invokes his own spirit to open its oracles to him--a
proceeding altogether without foundation, and completely dependent
upon opinions.

276 NOVUM ORGANUM.

And another may call in Logic to aid in discovery, but it has
nothing to do with the matter in hand, except in name. For Logic
does not set herself to discover Principles and chief Axioms, of which
the Arts are composed, but only those things which appear to agree
with them. For Logic, rendering her well-known answer to the
curious, the importunate, the busy-body, and those who question her
about proofs and discoveries of Principles or first Axioms, sends them
back to the faith which duty pledges them to render to each indi
vidual art.

Simple Experience remains, which, if it meets us unsought, is called
Chance ; if it be sought for, Experiment. But this kind of Experience
is nothing better than " an unbound besom," as they say, and a mere
feeling, as of men in the night trying all around for the chance of
falling into the right way ; whereas it would be much better and more
considerate to wait for clay, or to light a lamp, and then to enter upon
the journey. But, on the other hand, the true order of Experience is
first to light a lamp, and then, by means of the lamp, to point out the
road, beginning from a well-ordered and digested Experience, the
opposite of what is out of place or erratic ; and from it educing
Axioms, and from the Axioms, when established, again new experi
ments, since not even the Divine Word operated on the mass of things
without order.

And so men may cease to wonder that the course of the Sciences is
not accomplished, since they have wandered altogether from the way,
entirely leaving and deserting Experience, or else losing themselves
and wandering about in it as in a labyrinth ; while a rightly-constituted
order would lead then, by a continuous path, through the forests of
Experience to the open lands of Axioms.

Ixxxiii. Now, that disease has grown wonderfully out of a certain
opinion or conceit, which, though long established, is vain and
injurious, namely, that the majesty of the human mind is impaired by
long and frequent employment upon experiments and particulars which
are subject to the sense and determinate in matter ; especially as
subjects of this kind are usually laborious to inquire into, ignoble to
meditate on, harsh to speak, illiberal to practice, infinite in number,
and refined in their subtlety. And so now at last the matter has come
to this, that the true way is not only deserted, but also shut up and
obstructed, Experience being not only abandoned or badly adminis
tered, but absolutely disdained.

Ixxxiv. Again, a reverence for antiquity and the authority of men
esteemed great in Philosophy, and then consent, have held back men
from advancing in knowledge, and almost fascinated them. And con
cerning consent we have spoken above.

But the opinion which men cherish about antiquity is altogether
slovenly, and scarcely corresponds to the word. For the old age and
long duration of the world are really to be taken as antiquity ; but
these are the attributes of our own times, and not of the more youthful
age of the world, as it existed among the ancients. For that age,
though in respect of us it is ancient and older, in respect of the world

NOW At ORGAXUM. 277

itself is modern ami younger. And truly, as we expect a greater
knowledge of human affairs and a riper judgment from an old man
than from a young one, on account of his experience and of the variety
and abundance of the things which he has seen and heard and thought
upon, so in like manner also from our age (if it knew its own strength,
and chose to essay and exert it) it is fair to expect far greater things
than from the earlier times, inasmuch as the age of the world is
greater, and has been enriched and stored by an infinite number of
experiments and observations.

Nor is it to be counted as nothing, that by means of distant voyages
and travels, which have been frequent in our generation, very many
things in Nature have been laid open and discovered which may let
in a new light upon Philosophy. And really it would be disgraceful
to mankind if the regions of the material globe, viz., of the earth, of
the sea, and of the stars, should in our times be laid open and
illustrated to a very great extent, and yet the limits of the intellectual
globe be confined to the narrow discoveries of the ancients.

Hut with regard to authority, it is a mark of the greatest weakness
to assign unbounded influence to authors, while we deny its rights to
time, the author of all authors, and so of all authority. For truth is
rightly called the daughter of time, and not of authority ; and so it is
not wonderful if these enchantments of antiquity, authority, and con
sent have so bound up the strength of men, that they have not been
able (being as it were bewitched) to hold familiar intercourse with
things themselves.

Ixxxv. Nor is it only the admiration of antiquity, authority, and
consent, which has compelled the industry of mankind to rest con
tented with what is already discovered, but also an admiration of the
results themselves, of whuh the human race has long had a plentiful
supply. For when any one has brought within his view the variety
of things, and the very beautiful apparatus which has been collected
and introduced for the improvement of mankind by means of the
Mechanical Arts, he will certainly be inclined rather to admire the
wealth of man than to feel his poverty, never reflecting that the
primitive observations of man, and the operations of Natuic (which
arc the life and original causes of all that variety), are neither many
in number, nor fought from any depth ; that the rest is clue to the
patience of men only, and to the subtle and well-directed motion of
hand or instruments. For, to take an example, watch-making is «i
subtle and exact business, inasmuch as it seems to imitate the motions
of the heavenly bodies by means of wheels, and the pulse of animals
by its successive and orderly motion ; and yet the whole thing
depends on one or two axioms of Nature.

If, again, any one looks into the subtlety which pervades the
Liberal Arts, or even that which exists in the preparation of natural
bodies by the Mechanical Arts, and takes in hand subjects of this
sort : such as the discovery of the celestial motions in astronomy, of
harmony in music, of letters of the alphabet (which even up to the
present time arc not in use in the Chinese Umpire) in grammar ; or

278 NOVUM ORGANUM.

again, in mechanics, or in what is mechanical, the doings of Bacchus
and Ceres, i.e., the 'preparation of wine and beer, the making of
bread ; or even the delicacies of the table, distillation, and the like ;
he will also, if he reflects and considers what long revolutions of time
(for all these things, with the exception of distillation, are ancient) it
has taken to bring these things to their present state of perfection, and
(as we have just said of clocks) how little they draw from observations
and axioms of Nature, and how easily and, as it were, by chance
occurrences and casual contemplation they might have been dis
covered—he, I say, will easily dismiss all wonder, and rather pity the
condition of mankind for its long-continued dearth and barrenness of
facts and inventions. And yet these very discoveries which we have
now mentioned are more ancient than Philosophy and the arts of the
Intellect ; so that (to speak truth) the discovery of useful results
ceased when rational and dogmatic Sciences of this kind began.

But if we turn from manufactories to libraries, and feel astonish
ment at the immense variety of books which we see there, let us only
examine and diligently inspect the matter and contents of the books
themselves, and our astonishment will certainly be turned in the
opposite direction ; and when we have observed the ceaseless repeti
tions, and seen how men do and say the same things, we shall pass
from admiration of the variety to marvel at the poverty and scantiness
of those things which have hitherto held and occupied men's minds.

But if we condescend to the consideration of those things which
are held to be more curious than sound, and examine closely the works
of the alchemists or magicians, we shall perhaps hesitate whether they
be worthy of laughter or of tears. For the Alchemist cherishes eternal
hope ; and when his work does not succeed, shifts the blame on to
his own mistakes, accusing himself of not having sufficiently under
stood the words of his art or of his authors ; upon which he turns his
mind to tradition and muttered whispers, or thinks that in his
manipulation he has made some blunder of a scruple in weight, or a
moment in time ; wherefore he repeats his experiments to infinity :
and when, in the mean time, among the chances of experiment he
lights upon some things which are either novel in their appearance, or
on account of their utility not to be despised, he feasts his mind upon
them as pledges of what is to come, raises them into still greater
estimation, and supplies the rest with hope. Yet we cannot deny that
the Alchemists have made many discoveries, and have presented
mankind with useful inventions. But we may well apply to them that
fable of the old man, who bequeathed to his sons some gold buried in
a vineyard, pretending that he did not know the spot, whereupon they
set themselves diligently to dig the vineyard, and though no gold was
found, yet the vintage was made richer by that culture.

But the cultivators of Natural Magic, who explain everything by
sympathies and antipathies, out of idle and most slothful conjectures
have fabricated for things marvellous powers and operations : but if
they have ever produced any results, they have been such as tended
to the wonderful and the novel, and not to fruit and utility.

NOVUM ORGANUAf. 279

In superstitious Magic, on the other hand (if indeed we need speak
about that), we must especially observe, that it is only subjects of a
fixed and definite kind that the curious and superstitious arts, in all
nations and ages, and even religions, have either worked or played.
We may therefore dismiss them. In the mean time we cannot wonder
if a notion of plenty should have caused want.

Ixxxvi. And the wonder of mankind as regard Doctrines and Arts, of
itself sufficiently simple, and almost childish, has been increased by the
craft and artifices of those who have treated of Sciences and handed
them down. For they set them forth in their ambition and affectation,
and bring them to the view of mankind so fashioned and masked, as
if they were in every respect perfect, and carried through to their end.
For if you consider their method and divisions, they appear to
embrace and include all things which can fall within the subject.
And though these limbs are badly filled, and like empty bladders, still
they present to the vulgar understanding the form and plan of a per
fect Science.

But the first and most ancient seekers of truth, with greater honesty
and good fortune, were wont to throw that knowledge which they
meant to cull from the contemplation of things, and to lay by for use,
into Aphorisms, or short scattered sentences, without methodical con
nection ; nor did they pretend to profess to embrace universal Art.
But as things are now managed, it is very little to be wondered, that
men do not search further into these matters, since they are handed
down as perfect, and long since completed.

Ixxxvii. Moreover, the ancient systems have received much
additional consideration and credit from the vanity and levity of
those who have set forth new ones, especially in the active and opera
tive parts of Natural Philosophy. For there have not been wanting
vain talking and fantastical men, who, half credulous and half im
postors, have loaded mankind with promises, promising and pro
claiming prolongation of life, postponement of old age, alleviation of
pain, repairing of natural defects, deception of the senses, the con
trolling and the compelling of the affections, illumination and exalta
tion of the intellectual powers, transmutation of substances, the
strengthening and multiplication of motions of will, impressions and
alterations of the air, the drawing down and procuring celestial
influences, divinations of future events, the bringing near what is dis
tant, the revealing what is hidden, and very many other things. But
one would not be far wrong in passing some such judgment as this on
those liberal men, viz., that in the teachings of Philosophy, there is as
great a difference between their vanities and true Arts, as there is in
history between the exploits of Julius Cassar or Alexander the Great,
and those of Amadis de Gaul, or Arthur of Britain. For those very
famous generals are found to have performed greater exploits in
reality than these shadowy heroes have done even in fiction, but by
means and ways of action not at all fabulous or monstrous. Yet it is
not fair to impugn the credit of a true relation because it has some
times been injured and wronged by fables. In the mean time it is by

280 NOVUM ORGANUM.

no means strange that a great prejudice should be caused against new
propositions (especially when accompanied by allusion to results) on
account of those impostors who have attempted the like ; since their
excessive vanity and fastidiousness have, even in the present day,
destroyed all greatness of mind in attempts of this kind.

Ixxxviii. But far greater injury has been inflicted on the Sciences
by meanness of spirit, and the smallness and lightness of the tasks
which human industry has proposed to itself. And yet (which is
worst of all) that meanness of spirit does not present itself without
arrogance and disdain.

For, first, we find, in connection with all Arts, the caution, already
familiar to us, with which the authors turn the weakness of their
several Arts into a charge against Nature ; and that when a thing is
not attainable by their Art, they pronounce it, on the authority of that
same Art, to be impossible in Nature. And certainly Art cannot be
condemned if she be her own judge. Indeed, the Philosophy, at pre
sent in vogue, cherishes in her breast certain positions or opinions,
the object of which is (if a diligent inquiry be made) to persuade men
that nothing difficult, or involving power and influence over Nature,
ought to be expected from Art, or the operation of man ; as was said
above with respect to the heterogeny of Heat when derived from
sidereal bodies or from fire, and concerning Mixture. But if these
things be accurately noted, they are found to tend entirely to a wilful
circumscription of human power, and to a contrived and factitious
despair ; which not only disturbs the auguries of hope, but also cuts
into all the spurs and sinews of industry, and rejects the chances of
Experience herself; and all to the end that their Art may be thought
perfect, and that they may enjoy the most empty and pernicious boast
— that whatever has been hitherto undiscovered or uncomprehended
is altogether beyond the possibility of discovery and comprehension
for the future. And if any one tries to set himself to work, and to
make some new discovery, still he will absolutely propose and appoint
to himself to investigate and bring out some single discovery, and no
more : as the nature of the magnet, the flowing and ebbing of the sea,
the system of the heavens, and things of this kind, which seem to
have something secret about them, and have not been happily treated
of hitherto. Whereas it is a mark of extreme unskilfulness to investi
gate the nature of anything in the thing itself, inasmuch as the same
Nature which in some things seems to be latent and hidden, in others
is manifest and, as it were, tangible ; in the former cases exciting
admiration, in the latter not even common attention. As happens in
the nature of "Consistency/' which is not marked in wood or stone,
but is passed over under the name of solidity, without any further
inquiry being made as to the repulsion of separation, or the solution
of continuity ; whereas in the case of bubbles of water the same thing
seems subtle and ingenious, the bubbles throwing themselves into
certain pellicles, curiously fashioned into the shape of a hemisphere,
so that for a moment the solution of continuity is avoided.

And certainly those same things which are regarded as secret have

NOVUM ORGANUM. 28 r

in other cases a manifest and a common nature ; but it will never be
come visible, if the experiments or contemplations of men are engaged
on those same things exclusively. Hut generally ami commonly in
Mechanics, old discoveries are esteemed new, when any one refines
upon or embellishes things which have been long ago discovered, or
unites and compounds them, or connects them more conveniently
with their application, or produces the result in greater or even less
mass and volume than usual, and the like.

And so it is very little wonder if discoveries, noble and worthy of
mankind, have not been brought to light, how men have been con
tented and delighted with slight and peurile tasks of this kind, and
have thought, moreover, that in them they have aimed at or obtained
something great.

Ixxxix. Nor is the fact to be passed by, that Natural Philosophy has
in all ages found a troublesome and difficult enemy : I mean supersti
tion, and a blind and immoderate zeal about Religion. For we m;iy
see among the (ireeks how they who first proposed the natural causes
of lightning and tempests to the then unprepared ears of men, were on
that account found guilty of impiety towards the Cods ; nor were
those much better treated by some of the ancient Fathers of the
Christian Religion, who, from the most certain demonstrations (which
at the present day no one in his senses contradicts) laid down that
the world is round, and, as a consequence, asserted the existence of
Antipodes.

Moreover, as things are now, the discoursing on Nature is made
harder and more dangerous by the summaries and methods of the
scholastic Theologians, who, not contented with having reduced
Theology (as far as they were able) to order, and fashioning it into an
Art, have further contrived to mix up the disputatious and thorny
Philosophy of Aristotle with the body of Religion in an inordinate
degree.

In the same direction (though in a different way) tend the specula
tions of those who have not feared to deduce the truth of the Christian
Religion from the principles of Philosophers, and to confirm it by their
authority, celebrating the union of Faith and sense, as if it were a
legitimate marriage, with much pomp and solemnity ; and soothing
the minds of men with a pleasing variety of things, but in the mean
time mixing up the divine with the human element in a most unfitting
manner. Now, in such mixtures of Theology with Philosophy, those
things only are comprehended which are now received in Philosophy,
while novelties, although they are changes for the better, are all but
removed and exterminated.

Lastly, you may find that, owing to the want of skill of certain
Theologians, the approach to any Philosophy, however corrected, is
almost closed. Some, indeed, in their simplicity, are half afraid, lest
perchance too deep an inquiry into Nature should penetrate beyond
the permitted limits of sobriety; falsely transferring and wresting
what is spoken in Holy Scripture of Divine mysteries against those
who pry into the Divine secrets, to the hidden things of Nature,

282 NOVUM ORGANUM.

which are prohibited by no such law. Others, with greater cunning,
consider and reflect that if intermediate causes be unknown, each
occurrence can be more easily referred to the Divine hand and rod
(which they consider to be of great importance in Religion) ; which
is nothing else but seeking to "gratify God by a lie." Others fear,
from what has already happened, that the movements and changes of
Philosophy may end by assaulting Religion. Others, again, seem
anxious lest anything should be discovered during the investigation of
Nature which may subvert Religion (especially among the unlearned),
or at least shake its authority. But these two last fears seem to us to
savour altogether of a carnal wisdom ; as if men, in the recesses of
their minds, and in their secret thoughts, distrusted and doubted the
stability of Religion, and the empire of Faith over Sense ; and there
fore feared that danger threatened from the inquiry after truth in
natural things. But, if we take the true view of the matter, Natural
Philosophy is, next to the Word of God, the most sure remedy for
superstition, and at the same time the most approved nourishment
for Faith. And so she is rightly given to Religion as a most faithful
handmaid ; the one manifesting the will of God, the other His power.
Nor was He wrong who said : " Ye do err, not knowing the Scriptures,
and the power of God ;" thus joining and coupling information con
cerning His will, and meditation on His power, in an inseparable bond.
In the mean while it is the less strange, that the growth of Natural
Philosophy is restrained, seeing that Religion, which has very great
influence over the minds of men, has, through the unskilfulness and
incautious zeal of certain persons, crossed over and been carried into
opposition.

xc. Again, in the customs and institutions of schools, academies,
colleges, and similar places of resort, set apart as the abodes of
learned men, and for the cultivation of erudition, everything is found
to be hostile to the progress of knowledge. For lectures and exercises
are so disposed, that it does not easily occur to any one to think or
meditate on anything out of the customary routine. And if one or
two have perchance the boldness to exercise liberty of judgment, they
must undertake the task by themselves, for they will gain no advan
tage from union with others. And if they can endure this, still they
will find their industry and liberality no slight impediment in reaching
fortune. For the pursuits of men in places of this kind are confined
to the writings of certain authors, as if they were prisons ; and if any
one dissents from them, he is straightway seized upon as a turbulent
man, and one desirous of innovations. But surely there is a great
distinction between civil matters and the Arts, for the danger from a
new movement and from a new light is not the same. In civil
matters, a change even for the better is suspected as the probable
cause of disturbance ; since civil matters rest on authority, consent,
report, and opinion, not on demonstration. But in the Arts and
Sciences, as in mines, all around ought to echo with the sound of new
works and further progress. And such is the case according to right
reason ; but meanwhile it is not carried out in practice ; that adminis-

NOVUM ORGAN UM. 283

tration and polity of learning, of which we have spoken, having
usually pressed too harshly upon the growth of the Sciences.

xci. And besides, supposing this objection to have ceased, still
it is enough to restrain the growth of the Sciences, that industrious
attempts of this kind have no reward. For the prizes of Science are
not in the hands of its cultivators. The increase of the Sciences
proceeds from great abilities ; but their prizes and rewards are in the
hands of the vulgar or of great men, who (with a very few exceptions)
have an indifferent stock of learning. And further, progress of this
kind is destitute, not only of rewards and benefits, but even of popular
praise : for it is above the grasp of the greatest part of mankind, and
is easily overwhelmed and extinguished by the gales of public opinion.
And so it is not to be wondered that an undertaking does not end
prosperously which is not held in honour.

xcii. But by far the greatest obstacle to the progress of the Sciences,
and to the undertaking new tasks and provinces therein, is found in
the tendency of man to despair, and to suppose things impossible. For
prudent and strict men are accustomed, in matters of this kind, to be
thoroughly distrustful, bearing in mind the obscurity of Nature, the
shortness of life, the fallacies of the senses, the infirmity of judgment,
the difficulty of experiments, and the like. And so they think that
the Sciences ebb and How in the revolutions of time and of the ages
of the world ; at some seasons increasing and flourishing, at others
declining and fading away ; yet in such a way, that, when they have
arrived at a certain degree and standing, they can go no further.

And so, if any one believes or promises any greater result, they
think it proceeds from a weak and unripe mind, and believe that
attempts of this kind, though they have prosperous beginnings, are of
difficult continuance and end confusedly. And since thoughts of this
kind easily present themselves to men of gravity and superior judg
ment, care must really be taken that we be not smitten with the desire
of something very good and beautiful, and so relax or diminish the
stringency of our judgment ; we must look sedulously what gleams of
hope there may be, and from what quarter they show themselves; and
must, rejecting the lighter aspirations of hope, review and weigh those
which seem to have more solidity. Moreover, civil prudence must be
summoned and brought to counsel, which is distrustful by prescription,
and takes the worst view of human affairs. And so we must now also
speak concerning hope, especially as we arc not vain promisers, and
do not aim at forcing or ensnaring men's judgments, but wish to lead
them by the hand, and with their own content. And although by far
the most potent means of impressing hope will come into play when
we bring men to particulars, especially as digested and set in order in
our Tables of Discovery (which belong partly to the second, but much
more to the fourth part of our Instauration) ; since this is not hope
simply, but, as it were, the thing itself ; yet, that all may be done
gently, we must proceed in our plan of preparing men's minds, of
which preparation that exhibition of hope constitutes no trifling part.
For without it the rest rather causes men to despond (that is to say,

284 NOVUM 0 KG A NUM.

to have a worse and lower opinion of existing things than they now
have, and to feel and understand more thoroughly their own unfor
tunate condition) than excites any alacrity in them, or incites their
industry in making experiments. And so we must open out and set
forth our conjectures as to what makes hope in this matter probable ;
as Columbus did, before that wonderful voyage of his across the
Atlantic, when he adduced reasons for his confidence that new lands
and continents might be discovered in addition to those already
known ; which reasons, though at first rejected, were yet afterwards
proved by experiment, and were the cause and beginning of very
great events.

xciii. And we must begin from Cod ; proving that the business in
hand, on account of the nature of good which prevails in it, is mani
festly from God, who is the Author of good and Father of lights.
Now, in Divine operations the very slightest beginnings of a certainty
bring after them a result ; and what has been said of spiritual things,
''The kingdom of God comoth not with observation," is also found to
apply in all the greater works of Providence ; everything glides
quietly past, without noise or sound, and the matter is actually
accomplished before men think or perceive that it is being accom
plished. Nor must we omit the prophecy of Daniel concerning the
latter times of the world : " Many shall run to and fro, and knowledge
shall be increased ;" clearly hinting and signifying that it is the will
of Fate (i.e. of Providence) that the thorough exploration of the world
(which seems by so many distant voyages to be fulfilled, or to be even
now in the course of fulfilment) and the advance of the Sciences,
should fall in the same age.

xciv. Now follows the strongest reason of all for encouraging hope :
that, we mean, which is drawn from the mistakes of past times, and of
the ways hitherto attempted. For that was a very good reproof which
some one delivered to a commonwealth which was unwisely adminis
tered, " That which was the worst thing in the past should be looked
upon as the best augury for the future. For if you had fulfilled all
that your duty required, and yet your affairs were in no better position,
not the least hope would be left of any further improvement. But
since the present position of your affairs is owing, not to the absolute
force of circumstances, but to your own mistakes, it is to be hoped
that, when these mistakes shall have been discontinued or corrected,
a great change may be made for the better." In like manner, if men,
during the course of so many years, had kept to the true way of dis
covering and cultivating the Sciences, and yet had not been able to
advance further, the opinion that further progress was impossible
would beyond doubt be bold and rash. But if the mistake has lain
in the way itself, and men's labour has been wasted in matters with
which it should never have been engaged ; then it follows that the
difficulty arises, not in things themselves which are beyond our power,
but in the human Intellect, its use and application — an evil which
admits of remedy and cure. And so it will be a very great thing to
set forth these same errors, since every impediment arising from

NOVUM ORGANISM. 28$

errors in times past becomes an argument for hope in the future.
And although these have not been left altogether unnoticed in what
lias been said above, still it seems good to represent them now again
briefly, in plain and simple language.

xcv. Those who have treated of the Sciences have been either
Empirics or Dogmatists. The Empirics arc like the ant, they only
bring together and use ; the Rationalists are like spiders, which spin
webs out of their own bowels ; but the bee follows a middle course,
for she draws her materials from the flowers of the garden and the
field, and yet changes and digests them by a power of her own. Nor
is the true process of philosophy unlike this, for it does not rely
either exclusively or principally on the strength of the mind, nor docs
it lay up in the memory materials supplied from Natural History and
Mechanical experiments in their raw state, but stores them in the
intellect, after having altered and digested them. And so, from a
closer and more religious union of these faculties (viz., the experi
mental and the rational) than has yet been effected, great hopes may
be entertained.

xcvi. Natural Philosophy is not yet found to be sincere, but is
infected and corrupted : in the school of Aristotle, by Logic ; in the
school of Plato, by Natural Theology; in the second school of Plato,
that of Proclus and others, by Mathematics, which ought to limit
Natural Philosophy, and not generate or originate it. But from a
Natural Philosophy, pure and unmixed, better things are to be
hoped.

xcvii. No one has been as yet found possessed of sufficient con
stancy and fixedness of character to determine and take upon himself
the utter abolition of theories and common notions, and the application
afresh to particulars of an intellect purified and impartial. And so
that human reason which we possess is a sort of farrago and congeries
of much credulity and much accident, not to speak of the childish
fancies which we imbibed at first.

But if any one of ripe age, unimpaired senses, and purified mind,
would apply himself to Experience and to Particulars anew, better
hopes might be entertained of him. And herein we promise ourselves
the fortune of Alexander the Great ; and let no one charge us with
vanity before he hears the result, which has in view the putting off of
all vanity.

For concerning Alexander and his exploits yEschines spoke thus :
" \Ve certainly do not live the life of mortal men, but are born to the
end that posterity may relate and declare wonders concerning us.1' As
if he considered the exploits of Alexander miraculous.

But in a following age T. Livius took a truer view of the matter,
and said of Alexander something of this kind : " That he had done
nothing but nobly dare to contemn what was vain." And we imagine
that a like judgment will be passed on us in future times : '* That we
have done nothing great, but have only made less account of those
things which are held to be great." But in the mean time (as we have
already said) there is no hope save in the regeneration of the Sciences ;

286 NOVUM ORGANUM.

they must be raised in due order from Experience, and built up anew ;
and no one, we imagine, will venture to affirm that this has been
hitherto done, or even thought of.

xcviii. And the grounds of Experience (for we must always come
down to this) either do not exist, or have as yet been very weak ; nor
has there yet been any search made after a store or collection of
particulars, fit either in number, in kind, or in certainty, to form the
Intellect, or in any way sufficient. On the contrary, men of learning
(but supine and easy) have taken up, for the construction and consti
tution of their Philosophy, certain rumours, and, as it were, reports
and breezes of Experience, and have allowed to them the weight of
legitimate testimony. And just as if some kingdom or state were to
direct its counsels and business not by the letters and reports of its
ambassadors and trustworthy messengers, but by the gossip of citizens
and tattle from the streets, so in all respects has been the manage
ment introduced into Philosophy, as far as regards Experience.
Nothing duly inquired into, nothing verified, nothing counted, nothing
weighed, nothing measured, is found in Natural History. But that
which in observation is indefinite and vague, is in information
fallacious and untrustworthy. And if these statements seem to any one
strange, and bordering on injustice, since Aristotle, a man so great in
himself, and supported by the riches of so great a king, completed so
accurate a history of animals; and some others, with greater diligence,
though with less noise, have made many additions thereto ; and others,
again, have composed copious histories and relations of plants, metals,
and fossils ; he really does not seem sufficiently to attend to and to
discern the business in hand. For there is one kind of Natural
History which is composed for its own sake ; another which is
collected to inform the Intellect, with a view to the construction of a
Philosophy. And these two histories, among many points of difference,
possess this principal one, that the first contains the variety of natural
species, and not the Experiments of the Mechanical Arts. For as in
civil matters the ability of each man, and the secret bias of his mind
and affections are best elicited in times of trouble ; so the secrets of
Nature reveal themselves better under the vexations of the Arts than
when they wander on in their own course. And so, then, there will be
grounds of hope for Natural Philosophy when Natural History (which
is its base and foundation) has been better arranged, but not till then.

xcix. And again, in the very abundance of Mechanical Experiments
is disclosed the extreme scarcity of those which most aid the informa
tion of the Intellect. For the mechanic, not at all anxious about the
investigation of truth, will not raise his mind or stretch out his hand
to anything that does not help on his own work. But hope of the
further progress of the Sciences will be well founded when there shall
be admitted and gathered up into Natural History very many Experi
ments, which, though of no use in themselves, do so much towards
the discovery of causes and Axioms ; and these we have been wont to
call "light-bearing" Experiments, to distinguish them from those that
are " fruit-bearing." For they have in them a wonderful virtue and

NOVUM ORGANUM. 287

condition, namely, that they never deceive or fall short. For as they
are applied not for the purpose of producing any result, but only of
unfolding some natural cause, they equally satisfy our intention, in
whatever way they turn out, by putting an end to the inquiry.

c. But not only is a greater abundance of Experiments to be sought
for and procured, and that of a different kind from what has as yet
been found, but also quite a different method, order, and process of
continuing and carrying forward Experience, must be introduced. For
vague Experience following only itself (as has been said above) is a
mere groping, and rather stupefies men than informs them. But when
Experience shall proceed by a certain law, in order and without
interruption, we may hope something better of the Sciences.

ci. But when there is brought to hand and made ready such an
abundant material for Natural History and Experience as is required
for intellectual or philosophical operations, yet is the Intellect in
nowise competent to act upon these materials spontaneously and by
the aid of memory alone ; no more than a man can hope by the aid of
memory alone to retain and make himself master of the computation
of an almanac. And yet up to this time meditation has had a greater
share in discovery than writing, nor has Experience as yet been made
literate ; but no discovery can be satisfactory without writing. And
when that comes into use, and Experience is at length made literate,
better hopes may be entertained.

cii. And again, now that there is so great a number and, as it were,
host of particulars, and these so scattered and diffused as to distract
and confuse the Intellect, we cannot hope much from the skirmishing
and light movements and sallies of the Intellect, unless there be an
arrangement and reduction to order of those things which belong to
the subject under inquiry, by means of suitable, well-disposed, and, as
it were, living tables of discovery ; and the mind be applied to the aids
already prepared and digested which these tables give us.

ciii. But when the store of particulars has been in due order set
before our eyes, we must not at once pass on to the investigation and
discovery of new particulars and results, or, at least, if we do so, we
must not rest there. For we do not deny that when all the Experiments
of all the Arts have been collected and digested, and have been brought
within the knowledge and judgment of one man, many new discoveries
advantageous to man's life and condition may be made by transferring
the Experiments of one Art to others, under the guidance of that very
Experience which we call literate : yet small results are to be expected
from so doing : but greater may be looked for from the new light of
Axioms, which, being educed by a certain way and rule from these
particulars themselves, shall again indicate and point out new particu
lars. For the road does not lie in a single plane, but ascends and
descends ; first ascending to Axioms, and then descending to Results.

civ. And yet the Intellect must not be allowed to leap and fly off
from particulars to remote and, as it were, most general Axioms (such
as the Principles, as they call them, of Arts and Things), and from
their incontrovertible truth prove and work out middle Axioms ; but

288 NOVUM ORGANUM.

this is what has been done hitherto, the cause being the natural
fondness of the Intellect for such a process, and its previous instruc
tion and acquaintance with it by means of Syllogistic Demonstrations.
But then only may good hopes be entertained of the Sciences when,
by means of a true scale and continuous steps, without interruption or
breaks, the ascent shall be made from particulars to lesser Axioms,
and thence to intermediate ones, each rising above the other, and
finally, at length, to the most general. For the lowest Axioms do not
differ much from bare Experience, while those highest and most
general (as they are considered) are arbitrary and abstract, and with
out solidity. But those middle Axioms are true, and solid, and living,
and on them depend man's affairs and fortunes : and above these also,
and last of all, come those which are most general ; such, we mean,
as are not abstract, but are really limited by these middle ones.

So, then, we must not add wings to the human Intellect, but rather
leaden weights, so far as to keep it from leaping and flying. And this
has not been done hitherto ; but when it shall have been done we may
have better hopes of the Sciences.

cv. Now in constructing an Axiom, a form of Induction differing
from that hitherto in use must be thought out ; and that in order to
prove and discover, not first principles, as they call them, alone, but
also lesser, middle, and, in short, all kinds of Axioms. P'or the
Induction which proceeds by simple enumeration is puerile, and con
cludes uncertainly, and is exposed to danger from a contradictory
instance, and generally passes judgment from fewer instances than is
right, and then from those only which are at hand. But the Induction,
which shall be useful for discovery and demonstration, ought to
separate Nature by due rejections and exclusions, and then, after a
sufficient number of negatives, conclude upon the affirmatives ; but
this has not yet been done, nor indeed attempted, save only by Plato,
who indeed uses this form of Induction to a certain extent, for striking
out definitions and ideas. And for the good and legitimate arrange
ment of this Induction or Demonstration, very many things must be
applied which have as yet never entered into the thoughts of man ; so
that greater labour has to be expended on it than has hitherto been
spent upon the Syllogism. And this Induction must be employed, not
only to discover Axioms, but also to determine Notions. And it is
certain that in this Induction our principal hope lies.

cvi. But, in constructing Axioms by this Induction, we must also
examine and try whether the Axiom under construction is only fitted
and made to the measure of those particulars from which it is drawn,
or whether it is of a wider and broader application. For if it be wider
or broader, we must see whether it confirm that width and breadth, by
designating new particulars, as a security that we shall not either
remain stationary in what is known, or perhaps loosely grasp at
shadows and abstract forms, instead of what is solid and defined in
matter. And when those precautions shall have been adopted, then at
length a substantial hope will have fairly dawned upon us.

cvii. And here, too, we must resume what has been said above of

NOVUM ORGANUM. 289

the carrying forward of Natural Philosophy and the bringing back of
particular Sciences to it, that the Sciences be not fevered or maimed ;
for indeed without this there can be little hope of progress.

cviii. We have now spoken of the removal of despair, and the
introduction of hope, as arising from the dismissal or rectification of
past errors. And now we must look if there be any other causes for
hope. And we light upon this : if many useful discoveries have been
made by chance, as it were, or through the force of circumstances, by
men who were not looking for them, or who were engaged on other
pursuits, no one can doubt that if the same men do look for them, and
make it their business to do so after a fixed method and order, and not
by desultory impulses, they must necessarily discover much more.
For although it may happen once or twice that a man may by chance
light upon that which has heretofore escaped his laborious and indus
trious inquiry, yet in the long run the contrary is unquestionably found
to be the case. And so far more numerous and better discoveries,
and these at shorter intervals, are to be expected from the reason and
industry, from the direct and intentional action of men, than from
chance, animal instinct, and the like, which have hitherto originated
discoveries.

cix. Hope may also be derived from the fact that some of those
things which are already discovered are of such a kind .is, previous to
their discovery, would not have easily occurred to any one ; they would
simply have been rejected as impossible. For men are accustomed to
conjecture what is coming from the example of what is old, and in
conformity with a fancy tutored and prejudiced thereby ; a most
fallacious way of forming an opinion, since much that is sought from
the fountain-head does not come through the accustomed channels.

For instance, if some one before the discovery of cannon had
described the thing by its effects, and had spoken after this fashion :
"A certain discovery has been made by which walls and the mightiest
fortifications can be shaken and cast down at a great distance ; " men
certainly would have begun to think of multiplying the powers of
engines and machines by means of weights and wheels, by batteries
and projectiles of a similar kind, in all manner of different ways : but
it would scarcely have occured to any one's imagination or fancy, to
think of a fiery blast expanding and exploding in so sudden and violent
a way ; for he would not have seen any example of such an action
near him, unless perchance in the earthquake, or the lightning, which
men would at once have rejected as great marvels of Nature, and not
to be imitated by man.

In the same way, if, before the discovery of silk, some one had thus
spoken : " A certain kind of thread has been discovered, fitted for
clothing and furniture, which far exceeds linen or woollen thread in
fineness, and at the same time in tenacity, brilliancy, and softness ;"
men would at once have begun to think of some silky vegetable, or
of the more delicate hairs of some animals, or of the feathers and
down of birds ; but they certainly would never have thought of the
web of a weak worm, and that so copious, self-renewing, and annually

290 NOVUM ORGANUM.

productive. Nay, if any one had hinted a word about a worm, he
would certainly have been ridiculed for dreaming about a new kind of
cobweb.

In like manner, if, before the discovery of the mariner's compass,
any one had declared that a certain instrument had been discovered by
which the cardinal points of theheaven could be found and distinguished
exactly, men would have immediately run off, in the excitement of
their imagination, to a variety of conjectures as to the more exquisite
construction of astronomical instruments ; but that anything should
have been discovered corresponding so exactly in its motions to those
of the heavenly bodies, and yet not a heavenly body itself, but only a
stony or metallic substance, would have seemed altogether incredible.
And yet these things, with others like them, lay concealed from men
for so many ages of the world, and were not discovered by Philosophy
or the arts of reason, but by chance and occasion ; and are, as we
have said, altogether different in kind, and removed from anything
already known, so that no preconceived notion could possibly have
conduced to their discovery.

And so we may by all means hope that there are still many things
of excellent use stored up in the lap of Nature having in them nothing
kindred or parallel to what is already discovered, but lying quite out
of the path of the imagination, which have not hitherto been dis
covered ; and they, doubtless, in the course and revolution of many
ages, will also some day come forth of themselves, as their predecessors
have done ; but by the method of which we are now treating they
may be speedily, suddenly, and simultaneously presented and antici
pated .

ex. But we have before us yet other discoveries of a kind which
gives us reason to believe that mankind are liable to pass by and hurry
over noble inventions which lie under their very feet. For however
much the discovery of Gunpowder, or Silk, or the Compass, or Sugar,
or Paper, or the like, may seem to depend on certain properties of
things and of Nature, still certainly the Art of Printing has nothing in
it which is not open and generally obvious. And nevertheless, because
men did not remark that though it is more difficult to arrange type
than to write letters with the hand, there was this difference in favour
of type, that when once set up it suffices for innumerable impressions,
while manuscript supplies only one copy ; or perhaps, again, because
they did not observe that ink may be so thickened as to colour without
running— as must especially be the case where the letters are placed
lace upwards, and the impression is taken from above — this most
beautiful invention (which does so much for the propagation of
Learning) was wanting to them for so many ages.

But the human mind is frequently so unlucky and ill-regulated in the
course of invention, as first to distrust, and soon afterwards to despise
itself; and it appears at first sight incredible to it that any such dis
covery should be made, and when it has been made, it seems again
incredible that it should have escaped notice so long. And this same
fact gives rise to a just hope that there still remains a great mass of

NOVUM ORGANUM.

inventions, which may be derived not only from modes of operating
now unknown to us, but from the transferring, composition, and
application of those already known, by means of what we have called
literate Experience.

cxi. Nor must we omit this motive for hope : let men consider, if
they will, the infinite expenditure of abilities, of time and talents,
which they bestow on matters and studies of very inferior utility and
advantage; a very small part of which, if turned to sound and
substantial pursuits, would suffice to overcome all difficulties. And it
has seemed good to us to add this, because we plainly confess that a
collection of Natural and Experimental History such as we are
planning in our mind, and such as it ought to be, is a great and, as it
were, royal work, and one of much labour and expense.

cxii. In the mean time let no one be alarmed at the multitude of
particulars, which ought rather to inspire hope. For the particular
Phenomena of the Arts and Nature are but a handful, compared with
the figments of the wit, after they have been separated and abstracted
from the evidence of things. And the end of this road is open, and
almost at hand ; of the other there is no end, but infinite involvement.
For men have hitherto dwelt but little on Experience, and touched
upon it but lightly, while they have wasted infinite time in meditations
and inventions of the imagination. Now if we had any one at hand to
answer questions as to the actual facts of Nature, the discovery of
Causes and of all the Sciences would be the work of but a few years.

cxiii. We think, too, that some hope may be drawn from our own
example ; nor do we say this out of boasting, but because it is
advantageous to mention it. If any are fainthearted, let them look
at me, who am, of all the men of my time, most occupied with affairs of
state ; by no means of strong health (a circumstance which causes a
great loss of time), and in this business absolutely a pioneer, a
follower in no man's footsteps, who have never conferred with any
mortal on these matters, and yet have entered with constancy on the
true way, and submitting my intellect to actual facts, have, as I think,
advanced these matters somewhat ; and then let them consider what
may be expected from men rich in leisure, from combination of labour,
and from the succession of ages, after these suggestions of mine ;
especially as the way to be pursued is one which is accessible not to
individuals only (as is the case with that rational method), but one in
which the labours and endeavours of men (especially as regards the
gathering of Experience) rnay with best effect be distributed^ and
afterwards compared. For men will begin to know their own strength,
when one man shall undertake one thing and another another, instead
of a great number devoting themselves to the same thing.

cxiv. Lastly, even if the breath of hope had blown upon us far more
weakly and doubtfully from this new Continent, yet we have deter
mined, at all events, that we must make trial of it to the uttermost,
unless we do not wish to be utter cowards. For it is not a case where
there is equal risk in not trying and not succeeding ; since in the
former instance we risk a huge advantage ; in the latter a little human

292 KOVUM ORGANUM.

labour is thrown away. But from what has been said, and also from
what has not been said, it seems to us that there is abundant ground
of hope, not only to justify a stout-hearted man in trying, but even a
prudent and sober man in believing.

cxv. And now we have spoken of the removal of despair, which has
been one of the most potent causes of the delay and hindcrance of the
progress of the Sciences : and at the same time we have brought to a
close whr* we had to say on the signs and causes of the errors, in
activity, and ignorance which have prevailed, especially as the more
subtle causes, which do not come under popular criticism and
observation, should be referred to what has been said concerning the
Idols of the human mind.

And here, at the same time, ought to close the destructive part of
our Instauration, which is completed in three confutations : the con
futation, namely, of Human Reason, as natural and left to itself; the
confutation of Demonstrations ; and the confutation of Theories, or of
received Philosophies and Systems of teaching. These confutations
have been of the only kind available, namely, by means of signs, and
the evidences of causes ; since no other kind of confutation could have
been employed by us, dissenting as we do from others both on first
principles and demonstrations.

Wherefore it is time that we should come to the Art and Rule itself
for the Interpretation of Nature, and yet something remains to be
previously remarked. For since it is our object, in this first book of
Aphorisms, to prepare the minds of men to understand, as well as to
receive, what follows : now that the field of the mind has been purified,
cleaned, and levelled, it follows that we should place it in a good
position, and give it, as it were, a favourable aspect for viewing what
we shall set forth. For it seems greatly to increase prejudice in a new
undertaking, not only that the mind should be strongly preoccupied
by an old opinion, but also by a false anticipation and preconception
of the matter in hand. And so we shall endeavour to bring about
sound and true opinions on the subjects which we introduce, although
they are to last for a time only, and serve, as it were, as interest, until
the matter itself be thoroughly investigated.

cxvi. First, then, it seems right to request men not to think that we
wish to found any sect in Philosophy, after the manner of the ancient
Greeks, or of certain moderns, as Telesius, Patricius, and Severinus ;
for peither is this our intention, nor do we think that it is of much
importance to the fortunes of men what abstract opinions are held
concerning Nature and the Principles of things ; for it is not to be
doubted that many old theories of this kind might be revived, and new
ones introduced ; just as very many schemes of the heavens have been
supplied, which, while they agree well enough with appearances, yet
differ among themselves.

But we do not spend our labour in matters so speculative and useless
withal. On the contrary, we have determined to try whether we
cannot indeed lay more firmly the foundations and enlarge the limits
of human power and glory. And although here and. there, and on

NOVUM ORGANUM. 293

certain special subjects, we are in possession of far truer, and, as we
think, more certain, and even more profitable results, than are as yet
attained (\\hich we have brought together in the fifth part of our
Installation), yet we are propounding no universal or complete theory,
for the time does not seem yet to have arrived for so doing. And
further, we have no hope that our life may be prolonged so as to
complete the sixth part of the Instauration (which is set apart for
Philosophy, as discovered by the legitimate interpretation of Nature),
but arc satisfied now to employ ourselves soberly and usefully on
intermediate subjects, in the meantime scattering the seeds of a purer
truth for those that come after us, and performing our part towards
the commencement, at least, of the great undertaking.

cxvii. And as we are not founders of a sect, still less do we make
offer or promise of particular results. Hut yet some one may object
to us that we, who so often make mention of results, and urge all things
in that direction, ought also to show pledges of some ourselves. Hut
our method and plan (as we have often stated clearly, and yet like to
repeat) is not to draw Results from Results, or Experiments from
Epcriments (as do the Empirics), but Causes and Axioms from Results
and Experiments, and from those Causes and Axioms again new
Results and Experiments fas a legitimate interpreter of Nature).

And though in our Tables of discovery (which constitute the fourth
part of the Instauration), and even in the examples of particulars which
we have introduced in thesecond part, and, aboveall, inour observations
on History (which has been discussed in the third part of our work), any
one possessing even a moderate amount of clear-sightedness and skill
will everywhere remark indications and outlines of very many noble
results; yet we candidly confess that the Natural History which we have
as yet, either out of books or from individual inquiry, is not sufficiently
copious and well verified to satisfy or assist legitimate interpretation.

And so, if there be any one more fitted and better prepared for
mechanics, and sagacious in hunting out results, owing to his being
exclusively conversant with Experiments, we leave and relinquish to
him the labour of choosing out and applying to the production of
results many matters of our History and Tables as he finds them on
the road, to serve as interest for a time, until the principal can be had.
Hut we, in aiming at greater things, condemn all hasty and premature
delay over matters like these, which we are often wont to compare to
the golden balls of Atalanta. For we do not grasp at golden apples
like children, but stake all our hopes on the victory of Art over Nature
in the race ; nor are we so impatient as to wish to reap a crop of moss
or green corn, but wait for the harvest in its season.

cxviii. It will doubtless occur to some, after reading our History
and Tables of Invention, that there is in the Experiments themselves
some uncertainty or error ; and it will therefore, perhaps, be thought
that our discoveries rest on false and doubtful principles for their
foundation. Hut this is nothing ; for it is necessary that such should
be the case in the beginning. It is just as if, in writing or printing,
one or two letters should be wrongly separated or combined, which

294 NOVUM ORGANUM.

does not usually hinder the reader much, since the errors are easily
corrected from the sense itself. And so men should reflect that many
Experiments may erroneously be believed and received in Natural
History, v/hich are soon afterwards easily expunged and rejected by
the discovery of Causes and Axioms. But yet it is true, that if the
mistakes made in Natural History and in Experiments be important,
frequent, and continuous, no felicity of wit or Art can avail to correct
or amend them. And so, if in our Natural History, proved and
collected as it has been with so great diligence, strictness, and I may
almost say religious care, there should at times lurk in the particulars
something false or erroneous, what must be said of the ordinary
Natural History, which, compared with ours, is so careless and slip
shod? or of the Philosophy and Sciences built on such sands, or
rather quicksands ? Let no one, then, be disturbed by the objections
which we have mentioned.

cxix. There will be found too, in our History and Experiments, very
many things, first of all, trifling and commonly known ; then, mean
and contracted : and lastly, too refined and merely speculative, and
apparently useless ; a state of things which may avert and alienate the
attention of men.

But with regard to those things which appear common, let men
consider that they have hitherto really been exclusively accustomed
to refer and accommodate the causes of things which are rare to those
which are of more frequent occurrence ; while they never inquire after
the causes of those frequent occurrences, but receive them as granted
and admitted.

And so they do not seek for the causes of weight, rotation of the
heavenly bodies, heat, cold, light, hardness, softness, rarity, density,
liquidity, solidity, animation and its opposite, likeness and difference,
or even of organization, but, receiving them as self-evident and mani
fest, dispute and adjudicate on other matters which are not of so
frequent and familiar occurrence.

But we, who are well aware that no judgment can be formed about
what is rare or remarkable, much less anything new be brought to
light, without proper examination and discovery of the causes of
common things, and the causes of those causes, are of necessity com
pelled to receive the most common things into our History. Besides,
we find that nothing has done more harm to Philosophy than the
circumstance that things which are common and of frequent occur
rence do not arrest and detain men's contemplation, but are received
in passing, usually without any inquiry after their causes ; so that
information about unknown things is not more often wanted than
attention to those that are known.

cxx. And with regard to the meanness, or even the filthiness of
things, for which (as Pliny says) an apology is required, such subjects
must be admitted into Natural History equally with those that are
most beautiful and precious. Nor is Natural History at all polluted
thereby ; for the sun enters palaces and sewers alike, and yet is not
polluted. And we are not raising or dedicating any capitol or pyramid

NOVUM ORGANUM. 295

to man's pride, but are laying the foundation in the human intellect of
a holy temple, after the model of the universe. And so we follow our
model. For whatever is worthy of existence is worthy of knowledge,
which is the image of existence. Now, the mean has existence equally
with the beautiful. Nay, as out of some pulrid substances, such as
musk or civet, excellent odours are sometimes generated, so also does
valuable light and information sometimes emanate from mean and
sordid instances. But too much of this; since such fastidiousness is
clearly childish and effeminate.

cxxi. But the next objection must be looked into more carefully :
we mean, that there are very many things in our History which will
appear to the common apprehension, and indeed to any apprehension
accustomed to the present state of things, curiously and needlessly
refined. Therefore it is that we have already especially spoken of
this objection, and must do so again. And this is our reply : that
now at first, and for a certain time, we are seeking for light-bearing,
and not fruit-bearing Experiments ; following (as we have often said)
the example of the Divine creation, which on the first day produced
light only, and allotted one entire day to it alone, and did not mix up
with it any material work on that day.

And so, to suppose that things of this kind are of no use is the same
as to think Light of no use, because it is neither solid nor material.
And in truth it must be owned that the knowledge of simple natures,
when well examined and defined, is like Light, in that it affords an
approach to all the mysteries of effects, and by a kind of influence
includes and draws after it whole bands and troops of results, and
opens out the sources of most noble Axioms, though in itself it be of
no great use. So also the elementary letters have no significance
when taken separately and by themselves. Nevertheless, they serve
as the first material for the composition and preparation of all dis
course. Even the seeds of thing, strong in their possible effect, are
of no use except in their growth. And the scattered rays of light
itself, unless they converge, impart none of their benefit.

But if these speculative subtleties give offence, what will be said of
the Schoolmen, who indulged in subtleties to such excess ? And in
subtleties, too, which were expended on words, or at least (which
comes to the same tiling) on vulgar notions, and not on things or on
Nature : which were useless not only in their origin, but also in their
consequences; and not like those spoken of by us, which promise
infinite advantages in their consequences, though they possess none
at present. But let men know this for certain, that all subtlety of dis
putation and mental discussion is too late and preposterous if not
applied till after the discovery of Axioms, and that the true and proper,
or, at any rate, the principal opportunity for subtlety is during the
weighing of Experience, and the subsequent construction of Axioms ;
for that other subtlety only catches and grasps at Nature without ever
seizing or holding her. And certainly what is usually said of Oppor
tunity or Fortune is most true of Nature, viz., *• That she has a lock of
hair in front, but is bald behind."

296 NOVUM ORGANUAf.

Lastly, when in Natural History contempt is expressed for any
subject as being either common or mean, or too refined and useless
in its original condition, we may take as our oracle that speech of the
poor woman to the proud prince, who would have cast aside her
petition as something unworthy and beneath his majesty, — " Cease
then to be a king ! " for it is most certain that the empire over
Nature can neither be gained nor wielded by any one who refuses to
attend to things of this kind, as being too insignificant and trifling.

cxxii. Again, the objection occurs, that it is a strange and harsh
proceeding for us to set aside all Sciences and all Authorities at once,
as it were by one blow and assault, and that without calling in assis
tance and support from any of the ancients, but, so to speak, by our
own unaided strength.

But we know that, if we had chosen to act with less sincerity, it
would not have been difficult to have supported our propositions by
referring them either to the old times prior to the days of the Greeks
(when Natural Science was perhaps more flourishing, though less
noisy, from not having yet fallen in with the pipes and trumpets of the
Greeks) ; or even (in parts at least) to some of the Greeks themselves ;
and thence to have sought authority and honour, after the custom of
upstarts, who by the aid of genealogies contrive and fabricate for
themselves a noble descent from some ancient line. But we, relying
on the evidence of things, reject every condition of falsehood and
imposture, and do not think it matters any more to our subject
whether discoveries, now to be made, were formerly known to the
ancients, and have their settings and risings according to the vicissi
tude of things and course of time, than it matters to mankind to know
whether the New Hemisphere be that island of Atlantis which was
known to the Old World, or be now discovered for the first time. For
the discovery of things must be sought from the light of Nature, and
not brought back from the darkness of antiquity.

But with regard to the censure being universal, it is quite certain,
to any one who rightly considers the matter, that it is more probable
and more modest than a partial one would have been. For if the
errors had not been rooted in first notions, there must have been some
true discoveries to correct those that were erroneous. But since the
errors were fundamental, and of such a kind as to lead rather to the
neglect and oversight of things than to the forming a bad or false
judgment about them, it is not to be wondered that men have not
obtained what they never aimed at ; that they have not reached a
goal which they have never placed or settled ; that they have not
accomplished a journey which they have never entered upon or
pursued.

And as regards the presumption of the thing ; certainly, if any one
were to undertake, by steadiness of hand and power of eye, to draw a
straighter line, or a more perfect circle, than any one else, he would
be inducing a comparison of abilities ; but if he were to assert
that by applying a rule or compasses he could draw a straighter
line, or a more perfect circle, than any one else could by the help

NOVUM ORGANUM. 297

of eye and hand alone, he certainly would be no great boaster.
Now, this remark applies not only to this our first and initial attempt,
but also to those who shall hereafter follow up this subject. For our
method of discovering Sciences goes far to equalize men's abilities,
and leaves them individually no great room for excelling, since it
performs everything by most certain rules and demonstrations. And
so our share in this matter (as we have often said) is the result of good
fortune rather than ability, and the offspring of time rather than of
wit. For, certainly, chance has as much to do with human thought as
with human works and deeds.

cxxiii. And so we must repeat of ourselves (especially as it hits off
the matter so readily) that jest, that '' water-drinkers and winc-
diinkeis cannot possibly think alike." For all other men, both
ancients and moderns, have in the Sciences drunk a crude liquor like
water, either springing spontaneously out of their Intellect or drawn
up by Logic, as by wheels from a well. But we drink and pledge our
neighbours in a liquor made from countless grapes, ripe and in
season; collected and gathered by clusters; crushed in the wine
press, and, lastly, fined and clarified in the vat. And so no wonder
if we have not much in common with others.

cxxiv. And doubtless, it will be further objected that the goal and
mark of the Sciences, which we have set before ourselves, is not the
true or the best (the very fault which we blame in others \ For it
will be said that the contemplation of truth is a more worthy and a
loftier matter than all utility and magnitude of results ; and that this
long and anxious dwelling upon Kxperiencc and Matter, and the
fluctuation of particular things, chains the mind to the ground, or
rather casts it down into a very hell of confusion and disturbance ;
removing and withdrawing it to a distance from the serenity and
tranquillity of abstract wisdom (which is a far more godlike stateX
Now, we readily assent to this reasoning, and are chiefly and especially
busied with this very point which is therein hinted at as desirable.
For we are building in the human Intellect a copy of the universe
such as it is discovered to be, and not as a man's own reason would
have ordered it. Now, this cannot be accomplished without a very
diligent dissection and anatomy of the universe; but we declare that
those foolish models and apish imitations of the world which the
fancies of men have woven in their Philosophies must be utterly
given to the winds. Therefore let all men know (as we have said
above) how much difference there is between the idvla of the human
Mind and the Ideas of the Divine. For the former arc nothing but
arbitrary abstractions ; the latter are the true stamps of the Creator
upon his creatures, impressed and defined in matter by true and
exquisite lines. And so truth and utility in this case are the very
same things ; and results themselves are to be more esteemed, as
being pledges of truth, than as supplying conveniences for life.

cxxv. It may perhaps also be objected, that we arc doing what is
already done, and that the ancients themselves took the same course
which we are taking. And so it will be thought probable that we

298 NOVUM ORGANUM.

also, after all this stir and trouble, shall arrive at some one of those
systems of Philosophies which prevailed among the ancients. For
they too, in the outset of their reflections, prepared a great store and
abundance of examples and particulars, and digested them into common
place books, under heads and titles, and from these composed their
Philosophies and Arts ; and afterwards, when the subject was
thoroughly known, pronounced judgment, occasionally adding
examples for confirmation and illustration ; but thought it superfluous
and troublesome to publish their notes of particulars, their minutes,
and common-place books, and therefore followed the example of
builders, who remove their scaffolding and ladders out of sight as
soon as the building is finished. Nor may we refuse to believe that
they did so. But unless what has been said above be entirely
forgotten, it will be easy to answer this objection, or rather scruple.
For that the ancients had a form of inquiring and discovering we
ourselves allow, and the fact appears on the face of their writings.
But their form was simply this. From certain examples and particu
lars (with the addition of common notions, and perhaps of some
portion of the received opinions which were most popular) they flew
to the most general conclusions or principles of Science ; and, treat
ing the truth of these as fixed and immovable, they deduced and
proved inferior conclusions by means of intermediate propositions,
and out of these they constructed their art. And then, if new par
ticulars and examples were mooted and adduced which contradicted
their conclusions, they either craftily reduced them to order by means
of distinctions or explanations of their rules, or else got rid of them
in the gross by means of exceptions ; while to such particulars as
were not contradictory they pertinaciously laboured to accommodate
causes in conformity with their own principles. But this Natural
History and Experience was far from what it ought to be; and that
flying off to the highest generalities ruined everything.

cxxvi. Again, it will be objected, that, in prohibiting the passing a
judgment and the laying down of fixed principles, until the highest
generalities have been arrived at by the intermediate steps, we are
defending a suspension of judgment and leading to Acatalepsy. But
what we contemplate and propound is not Acatalepsy, but the
reverse ; for instead of derogating from the sense, we minister to it ;
and in place of slighting the Intellect, we regulate it. And it is better
to know all that we need, and yet think that we do not know every
thing, than to think that we know everything, and yet know nothing
that is needful.

cxxvii. Moreover, some will ask, by way of doubting rather than of
objecting, whether we intend Natural Philosophy only, or other Sciences
as well — Logic, Ethics, and Politics — to be carried out by this method
of ours. Now, we certainly understand that what we have said holds
universally, and just as the common Logic, which regulates matters
by syllogism, belongs not only to the natural, but to all Sciences ; so
also our method, which proceeds by Induction, embraces all subjects.
For we form a History and Tables of discovery for anger, fear, shame,

NOVUM ORGANUM. 299

and the like ; and also for examples of civil affairs and for the mental
operations of memory, composition, division, judgment, and the rest,
no less than for heat and cold, light, vegetation, or the like. But
since our method of interpreting, when once the History is prepared
and arranged, employs itself not only with the emotions ;md disquisi
tions of the Mind (as does the popular Logic), but also looks into the
nature of things, we so regulate the Mind that it may be able to apply
itself to the nature of things by methods fitted for all cases. And
therefore we give many diverse directions in the doctrine of Inter
pretation, that they may supply in some degree a method of discovery
proportioned to the quality and condition of the subject under inquiry.

cxxviii. But on this one point there must be not even a doubt ; viz.
whether we desire to overthrow and destroy the Philosophy, the Arts,
and Sciences now in use ; for, on the contrary, we gladly see them
used, cultivated, and honoured. Nor do we by any means wish to
hinder those which are in vogue from supplying food for disputations,
adorning discourses, and being applied with success to professional
practice and the duties of common life ; from being in short, like
coin, received among men by mutual consent. Nay, we plainly declare
that what we introduce will not be well adapted to these purposes,
inasmuch as it cannot in any way be brought down to the common
grasp, except by means of effects and results. But the writings
already published by us, especially our work on the Advancement of
Learning, prove how sincere we are in our profession of affection and
good-will towards the received Sciences. And so we shall not attempt
to prove it any more by words. In the meantime we give constant
and distinct warning that, by the methods now in use, no great pro
gress can be made in the doctrines and contemplation of the Sciences,
nor can they be brought to yield any extended results.

cxxix. It remains for us to say a few words as to the excellence of
our end. If they had been spoken earlier, they might have seemed
the reflection of our wishes ; but now that hopes have been raised
and unfair prejudices removed, they will perhaps have more weight.
And if we had accomplished and discharged the whole ourselves,
without calling others to part and share in our labours, we should
also have abstained from language of this kind, lest it should be taken
as a declaration of our own merits. But as the industry of others has
to be sharpened, and their minds roused and kindled, it is fitting that
we should recall certain facts to men's minds.

And so, first, the introduction of noble discoveries seems to hold
by far the highest place among human actions; and such was the
judgment of ancient times. For to inventors they paid divine
honours, while to those who did good service in civil affairs (such as
founders of cities and empires, law-givers, men who freed their
country from lasting evils, overthrowers of tyrannies, and the like)
they only decreed the rank of heroes. And certainly, if we rightly
compare these things, we shall find that this judgment of antiquity is
just. For whereas the benefits arising from discoveries may extend
to the whole human race, those of a civil nature affect only certain

300 NOVUM ORGANUM.

settlements of men ; the latter, too, do not last beyond a few ages,
the former, as it were, for ever. Besides, a civil reformation is seldom
unaccompanied by violence and disturbance, but discoveries diffuse
blessings and confer benefits without injury or sorrow to any one.

Again, discoveries are, as it were, new creations and imitations of
God's works : and the poet has well sung, —

" Piimum frugiferos fetus mortnlibus aegris
Dicliderant quondam prcestanti nomine Athenre :
Et recreaveiunt vitam, Irgesque rogarunt.'

And it seems worthy of notice in Solomon, that whilst he was
flourishing in power, wealth, the magnificence of his works, his
attendants, his household, and his fleet — in the lustre of his name
and the highest admiration of men — he chose none of those things as
his glory, but declared that " it is the glory of God to conceal a thing,
but the honour of kings to search out a matter."

Again, let any one consider, if he pleases, how great a difference
there is between the life of men in the most civilized part of Europe
and in the wildest and most barbarous region of new India : he will
think the difference so great as to justify the saying, " Man is a God
to man," not only in regard of age and advantages, but also from a
comparison of condition. And this superiority is the result, not of
soil, nor of climate, nor of bodies, but of Arts.

Again, it is well to mark the force, virtue, and consequences of
discoveries ; and these occur nowhere more manifestly than in those
which were unknown to the ancients, and whose origin, though recent,
is obscure and inglorious; the Arts, namely, of Printing, of Gun
powder, and the Mariner's Compass. For these three have changed
the face and condition of things all over the world ; the first in letters,
the second in war, the third in navigation. And hence numberless
changes have followed ; so that no government, no sect, no star,
seems to have exercised greater power and influence over human
affairs than these mechanical discoveries.

Besides, it will not be amiss to distinguish the three kinds, and, as
it were, degrees of human ambition. The first is that of those who
wish to increase their own influence in their country ; and this is a
common and degenerate kind. The second, that of those who strive
to enlarge the influence and power of their country among the human
race ; this kind is more dignified, but not less covetous. But when a
man endeavours to restore and increase the power and influence of
the human race itself over the universe, his is, without doubt, an
ambition (if such it may be called) at once sounder and grander than
the rest. Now, the empire of man over things is founded on the Arts
and Sciences alone, for Nature is only governed by obeying her.

Besides, if the advantages of any one particular invention have so
affected men as to make them think that he who can oblige the whole
human race by any benefit is more than man, how much nobler will it
seem to make such a discovery as shall expedite the way to the
discovery of all other things ? And yet (to speak the whole truth),

NOVUM ORGANUM. 301

just as we are deeply indebted to light because it enables us to enter
upon our way, to exercise Arts, to read, to distinguish one another,
and nevertheless the sight of light is itself nx>re excellent and beautiful
than the manifold uses of it ; so, assuredly, the very contemplation of
things as they are, without superstition or imposture, without error or
confusion, is in itself more worthy than all the produce of discoveries.

Lastly, let none be moved by the objection that the Arts and
Sciences will be degraded to the ends of malice, luxury, and the like.
For the same may be said of every earthly good — of wit, bravery,
strength, beauty, riches, light itself, and the rest. Let the human
race only recover the rights over Nature which by God's endowment
belong to it ; and let power be given it, right Reason and sound
Religion will direct its application,

cxxx. Hut now it is time for us to propound the Art itself of Inter
preting Nature, which, though we think that we have given for it
precepts most useful and true, we yet do not assert to be absolutely
necessary (as if nothing could be accomplished without it\ nor even
to be perfect. For we are of opinion that if men had in their hands
a just History of Nature and Experience, and exercised themselves
diligently therein, and could impose two conditions upon themselves ;
first, to lay aside received opinions and notions ; and secondly, to
restrain their minds for a time from the highest generalities, and
those next to them ; they might, by the proper and genuine power of
their minds, without any other art, fall into our form of Interpretation.
For Interpretation is the true and natural operation of the mind after
the removal of the obstacles. Nevertheless, we are certain that by our
precepts everything will be made more ready and much more stable.

Nor do we affirm that nothing can be added to these things ; on
the contrary, we who regard the mind, not only in its own faculties,
but as it is connected with things, are bound to hold that the Art of
Discovery may keep pace with discoveries themselves.

liOOK II.

A PI/OK IS MS Ot\ THE INTERPRETATIONS OF NATURE
OR THE KINGDOM OF MAN.

I. I'F'ON a given body to generate and superinduce a new Nature or
Natures, is the work and aim of human power. And to discover the
Form of a Natuie, or its true difference, or the Nature originating
Nature, or the source of emanation (for these are the available terms
which approach nearest to a description of the thing\ is the work and
aim of human Knowledge. And surbordinatc to these primary
works are two others which are secondary, and of an inferior stamp :
to the former, the transformation of concietc bodies from one into
another, within possible limits ; to the latter, the discovery, in all

302 NOVUM ORGANUM.

generation and motion, of the Latent Process, carried on from the
manifest efficient and manifest material to the inward Form ; and the
discovery, in a similar way, of the Latent Structure of bodies at rest
and not in motion.

ii. The unhappy condition of human Knowledge at the present
time is clear, even from what is commonly asserted concerning it. It
is rightly said, that "truly to know is to know by Causes." Also, the
constitution of four Causes is not without merit : viz. Material,
Formal, Efficient, and Final. But of these the Final Cause is so far
from advancing knowledge, that it even corrupts it, except when
brought to bear on the actions of men. The discovery of the
Formal is despaired of; but the Efficient and the Material Causes
(as they are sought for and received, that is to say, as remote, and
without the Latent Process to Form), are trifling and superficial, and
of very little use to true and active Science. Nor do we forget that
we have already noticed and corrected, as an error of the human
mind, the assigning to Forms the first qualities of Essence. For
though in Nature nothing really exists except individual bodies,
exhibiting pure individual acts according to law, yet, in the matter of
learning, that same law, with its investigation, discovery, and explica
tion, is the foundation both of knowledge and practice. This Law
and its Paragraphs are what we understand by the name of Forms ;
a term which we use because it has obtained weight, and is of
familiar occurrence.

iii. That knowledge of any Nature (such as whiteness, or heat),
which is drawn from certain subjects only, is imperfect ; and that
power is equally imperfect which can induce an effect on certain
materials only (among those which are susceptible of it). Now, the
knowledge of the Efficient and Material Causes alone (which are
fluctuating, and mere vehicles and causes conveying Form in certain
cases) will enable us to arrive at new discoveries in matter which
is somewhat similar and ready prepared, but not to stir the more
deeply rooted boundaries of things. But he who knows Forms
grasps the unity of Nature in the most dissimilar materials, and so
can detect and bring forward things which have never yet been
done, and such as neither the changes of Nature, nor the industry
of experimentalists, nor chance itself, would ever have brought into
action, and which would never have occurred to the thought of man.
Wherefore, from the discovery of Forms follow both contemplation
and freedom in operation.

iv. Although the roads to human power and knowledge are
closely united and nearly the same ; yet, on account of the pernicious
and inveterate habit of dwelling upon abstractions, it is far safer to
begin and raise the Sciences from these foundations which have
reference to practice, and to let practice mark out and define the
province of contemplation. And if we wish to generate and super
induce any Nature upon a given body, we must look for the most
desirable precept, direction, or guidance for that purpose, and express
it in simple and unabstruse language.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 303

For example, if any one wishes to superinduce upon silver the
yellow colour of gold, or an increase in weight (the laws of matter
being observed), or transparency upon any opaque stone, 01 tenacity
upon glass, or vegetation upon a new vegetable substance, we must
see, I say, what kind of precept or direction he svould most wish
for. And first, he will doubtless desire something to be shown him
of a kind which shall not deceive him in operation, or fail him in
the trial. Secondly, he will desire that something should be pic-
scribed which shall not restrain and tie him down to certain means
and particular modes of operation. For he will perhaps be at a
loss, from not having either power or convenience for obtaining and
procuring such means. J>ut if there be also other means and other
methods (besides those prescribed) of producing such a Nature,
some of them may perhaps be within the reach of the operator ;
from which, nevertheless, he will be excluded by the stringency of
the rule, and will reap no advantage from them. Thirdly, he will
desire something to be shown him which may not be so difficult as
that operation into which he is inquiring, but which may approach
nearer to practice.

And so the precept for the true and perfect rule of practice will
be, that it be surc,Jree, and disposing, or in the road to action. 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 laid down the given
Nature infallibly follows. And so it is always present when that
Nature is present, and universally affirms its presence and is inherent
in the whole of it. The same Form is such, that, when it is removed,
the given Nature infallibly disappears. And so it is invariably absent
when that Nature is absent, and invariably affirms its absence, and
exists in it alone. Lastly, the true Form is such that it deduces the
given Nature from some source of Essence which is inherent in
things, and is better known to Nature, as they s.i/, than Form
itself. And so this is our judgment and precept respecting a true
and perfect Axiom for knowledge, that another Nature be discovered
which shall be convertible with the given Nature, and yet be a
limitation of a more general Nature, like a true gen us. Now, these
two directions, the practical and the contemplative, are the same thing ;
and that which is most useful in operation is most true in knowledge.

v. The Rule or Axiom for the transformation of bodies is of two
kinds. The first regards a body as a collection or combination of
simple Natures. Thus, in gold the following properties meet : it is
yellow, heavy, and of a certain weight ; it is malleable or ductile to a
certain degree of extension ; it is not volatile, and loses none of its
substance by fire ; it becomes fluid with certaifi degrees of fluidity ;
it is separated and dissolved by certain means ; and so of the other
Natures which meet in gold. And thus an Axiom of this kind
deduces the subject from the Forms of simple Natures. For he who
is acquainted with the forms and modes of superinducing yellowness,
weight, ductility, fixity, fluidity, solution, and the rest, with their
gradations and methods, will sec and take care that these pioperties

304 NOVUM ORGANUM.

be united in some body, whence its transformation into gold may
follow. And this kind of operation belongs to primary Action. For
the method of generating one simple Nature is the same as that of
generating many, except that man is more tied and restricted in
operation when many are required, on account of the difficulty of
uniting so many Natures ; for they do not combine readily except in
the beaten and ordinary paths of Nature. Still it must be observed,
that this mode of operating (which regards simple Natures, although
in a concrete body) sets out from what is constant, eternal, and
universal in Nature, and offers such broad paths to human power, as
(in the present state of things) human thought can scarcely compre
hend or imagine.

But the second kind of Axiom (which depends upon the discovery
of the Latent Process] does not proceed by simple Natures, but by
concrete bodies, as they are found in Nature, in its ordinary course.
For example, where inquiry is being made, from what beginnings,
and in what manner, and by what process, gold, or any other metal
or stone is generated from the first menstrua, or rudiments, up to the
perfect mineral ; or, in like manner, by what process herbs are gene
rated from the first concretions of juices in the earth, or from seeds,
up to the full-formed plant, with the whole successive motion and
different and continued efforts of Nature ; also of the generation of
animals as unfolded in order, from coition to birth ; and so of other
bodies.

Nor is this inquiry confined to the generation of bodies; it ex'ends
to other motions and operations of Nature. Take, for example, the
case of an inquiry into the whole course and continued action of
nutrition, from the first reception of the nourishment to its perfect
assimilation ; or into the voluntary motion of animals, from the first
impression of the imagination and the continuous efforts of the spirit,
to the bending and movements of the limbs ; or into the free motion
of the tongue, lips, and other organs, up to the utterance of the arti
culate sounds. For these also refer to concrete or collected Natures
in their growth, and regard, as it were, particular and special habits
of Nature, and not the fundamental and common laws which con
stitute Forms. But still we must freely confess that this method
appears to be more expeditious, to be nearer at hand, and to yield
more promise than the primary one.

Similarly, the operative part, which answers to the contemplative
part, extends and advances its operation from those things which are
ordinarily found in Nature to others which are proximate, or not very
far removed from proximate. But the deeper and radical operations
upon Nature depend entirely upon primary Axioms. Moreover, in
cases where man has not the means of operating, but only of knowing,
as in Astronomy (for he is not allowed to operate on the heavenly
bodies, or to change or transform them), the investigation of actual
fact, of the truth of a circumstance, no less than the knowledge of
causes and agreements, is referred to the primary and universal
Axioms concerning simple Natures (as the Nature of spontaneous

NOVUM ORGANUM.

305

rotations, of attraction, or magnetic influence, and many other things
which are of more common occurrence than astronomical questions).
For no one may hope to determine the question whether it be the
earth or heaven that really revolves in daily motion, unless he shall
first have comprehended the nature of spontaneous motion.

vi. Hut the Latent Process of which we speak is by no means the
kind of thing which could easily occur to the minds of men (occupied
as they are now). For by it we do not understand certain measures,
or signs, or steps of procession, in bodies which can be perceived ;
but a regularly continued process, which, for the most part, escapes
the sense. For example, in all generation and transformation of
bodies we must inquire what is lost and flies oft", what remains, what
is added, what dilatation or contraction takes place, what union, what
separation, what is continued, what is broken off, what impels, what
hinders, what is powerful and what weak, and many other particulars.

And here, again, not only are these points to be considered, in the
generation or transformation of bodies, but also in all other alterations
and motions a similar inquiry must be made as to what goes before
and what succeeds, what is quicker and what more remiss, what
causes motion and what governs it, and questions of the like sort.
Hut all these points are unknown and untouched in the present state
of the Sciences, constructed as they are after a most rude and clumsy
fashion. For since all natural action is carried on by steps infinitelv
small, or at least too small to strike the sense, no one may hope to
govern or change Nature until he has duly comprehended and noted
them.

vii. In like manner, the investigation and discovery of Latent
Structure in bodies is a new thing, no less than the discovery of
Latent Process and Form. For we are as yet merely walking in the
entrance-halls of Nature, and are not ready for an approach to her
inner shrines. Now, no one can endue a given body with a new
nature, or successfully and suitably transmute it into a new body,
unless he has a good knowledge of the body to be changed or
transformed. For he will run into methods which are vain, or at
least difficult and perverse, and unfitted for the nature of the body on
which he is operating. -And so for this also a way must be opened
and constructed.

Now, upon the anatomy of organic bodies (as of men and animals),
labour has been rightly and advantageously spent ; and it seems to
be a subtle matter, and a good scrutiny of Nature. Hut this kind of
anatomy is visible and subject to sense, and has place only in organic
bodies. And it is something obvious and ready at hand, in comparison
with the true anatomy of Latent Structure in bodies which are held
to be similar, especially in things of a specific character, and their
parts, as iron or stone ; and in the similar parts of plants or animals,
as the root, the leaves, the flower, flesh, blood, bone, &c. But even
in this kind of anatomy human industry has not been entirely idle ;
for the very thing intended by the separation of similar bodies by
distillation, and other methods of solution, is that the dissimilarity of

306 NOVUM ORGANUM.

the compound may be made to appear through the gathering together
of the homogeneous parts. And this is of use, and tends to advance
our inquiry, although it is too often deceptive ; since very many
Natures are imputed and attributed to separation, as if they had
previously subsisted in the compound, which have really been added
and superinduced by fire and heat, and other means of separation.
But even this is but a small part of the work of discovering the true
Structure in a compound ; for the Structure is something far more
subtle and exact, and is rather thrown into confusion by the working
of fire than drawn out and brought to light by it.

And so the separation and solution of bodies must be brought
about, not by fire certainly, but by method and a true Induction, with
Experiments to aid ; and by comparison with other bodies, and a
reduction to simple Natures and their Forms, which meet and are
mingled in the compound ; and we must pass straight from Vulcan
to Minerva, if we would bring to light the true textures and Struc
tures of bodies ; on which all occult, and (as they are called) specific
properties and virtues in things depend ; and from which every rule
of effectual alteration and transformation is educed.

For example, inquiry is to be made what spirit there is in every
body, what tangible Essence, and whether that spirit be copious and
turgid or scanty and poor ; whether it be refined or gross, akin to air
or fire, brisk or sluggish, weak or strong, progressive or retrograde,
abrupt or continuous, agreeing or disagreeing with external and
surrounding objects, £c. And a similar course must be pursued with
tangible Essence (which admits of as many differences as Spirit), its
coats, fibre, and various texture. Again, the disposition of spirit
through the corporeal mass, and its pores, passages, veins, and cells,
and the rudiments or first attempts of the organic body, fall under
the same investigation. But on these inquiries also, and so on the
whole discovery of Latent Structure, a true and clear light is thrown
by primary Axioms, which completely disperses all darkness and
subtlety.

viii. Nor will the question be thus referred to the doctrine of
Atoms, which presupposes a vacuum and the unchangeablcness of
matter (both wrong suppositions), but to true particles, as they are
found to exist. Nor, again, is there any reason to be alarmed at this
subtlety, as if it were inexplicable ; but, on the contrary, the nearer
the inquiry tends to simple Natures, the more plain and perspicuous
will the thing appear, when the question is transferred from the mani
fold to the simple, from the incommensurable to the commensurable,
from the surd to the rational quantity, from the indefinite 'and vague
to the definite and fixed ; as in the case of elementary letters and
harmonic tones. And inquiry into Nature is most successful when
Physics are defined by Mathematics. And again, let no one fear
large numbers or fractions ; for in dealing with numbers it is as easy
to set down or to conceive a thousand as one, or the thousandth part
of an integer as the integer itself.

ix. Out of the two kinds of Axioms already described arises a true-

NOVUM ORGANUM. 307

division of Philosophy and the Sciences, adapting the received
terminology (which conies nearest to the description of the thing) to
our views. For instance, let the inquiry into Forms, which are (in
reason at least, and by their peculiar law) eternal and unchangeable,
constitute Metaphysics; and let the inquiry into the F.flicient and the
Material Causes and the Latent Process and Latent Structure (all of
which regard the common and ordinary course of Nature, not her
fundamental and eternal laws) constitute Physics ; and to these let
there be subordinate two practical subdivisions ; to Physics, Mechanics;
to Metaphysics (the word being used in its purest sense), Alagic, on
account of its extended field and greater command over Nature.

x. And so, having fixed the object of our teaching, we must go on
to precepts, and that in an order as little irregular and disturbed as
possible. And our directions for the Interpretation of Nature are
twofold in kind ; the first kind concerns the drawing out or eliciting
Axioms from Experiments ; the second, the deducing or deriving new
Experiments from Axioms. Now, the former is divided into three
heads or ministrations : viz. ministration to the sense ; ministration
to the memory; and ministration to the mind, or the reason.

For first, a natural and experimental History must be prepared,
sufficient and good, this being the foundation of the business ; and
we must not imagine or think, but discover, what Nature may do or
bear.

liut natural and experimental History is so varied and scattered as
to confuse and distract the Intellect, unless it be stayed and appear
in proper order. And so Tables and Co-ordinate Instances must be
formed, in such a manner and arrangement, that the Intellect may be
able to act upon them.

Hut even when this is done, the Understanding, left to itself and
acting spontaneously, is incompetent and ill-suited for the construc
tion of Axioms, unless it be regulated and guarded. And so, in the
third place, we must employ a legitimate and true Induction, which is
the very key of Interpretation. And here we must begin at the end,
and work backward to what remains.

xi. The inquiry after Forms proceeds thus : when a Nature has
been given, we must first make a joint presentation to the Under
standing of all known Instances which agree in the same Nature,
although in matter most dissimilar. And a collection of this kind
must be made in the fashion of a history, and without over-hasty
speculation or too great refinement. For example, in an inquiry after
the form of Heat, we have,

Instances agreeing in the Nature of Heat.

1. Rays of the Sun, especially in summer and at noon.

2. Rays of the Sun, reflected and condensed, as b-twecn mountains
or from walls of houses, and especially in burning glasses.

\ Flaming Meteors.

4. Burning Thunderbolts.

5. Eructations of Flame from the cavities of mountains, &c.

NOVUM ORGANUM.

6. All Flame.

7. Ignited Solids.

8. Natural Warm Baths.

9. Boiling or Heated Liquids.

10. Glowing Vapours and Smoke, and Air itself, which admits of a
most intense and raging heat if confined, as in reverberator ies.

1 1. Any Seasons which are fair through the constitution of the air,
without taking into account the time of year.

12. Air confined under the earth in certain caverns, especially in
winter.

13. All hairy Substances, as wool, skins of animals, and plumage,
have some heat.

14. All Bodies, solid as well as liquid, dense as well as rare (such
as air itself), brought near the fire for a time.

15. Sparks struck from flint and steel by strong percussion.

16. All Bodies strongly rubbed, as stone, wood, cloth, £c. ; so that
poles of carriages and axles sometimes catch fire ; and the usual way
in which the West Indians kindled fire was by rubbing.

17. Green and damp Herbs, shut up and packed together, as roses
and peas in baskets ; so that hay, if it be stacked when damp, often
takes fire.

1 8. Ouick-limc slaked with water.

19. Iron when it is first dissolved by aqua fortis in glass, and that
without putting it by the fire ; and tin and other things in like man
ner, but not so intensely.

20. Animals especially, and always internally ; although in insects
the heat is not perceptible to the touch, on account of the smallness
of their bodies.

21. Horse-dung, and the recent excrements of animals.

22. Strong Oil of Sulphur and Vitriol produce the result of heat in
burning linen.

23. Oil of Marjoram, and the like, produce the result of heat in
burning the bony parts of the teeth.

24. Strong and well-rectified Spirit of Wine exhibits the property
of heat ; so that if white of eggs be thrown into it, it coagulates and
becomes white, as it does when boiled : bread thrown into it becomes
dried and crusted, as it does when toasted.

25. Aromatic Substances and warm Plants, as the Dracunculus, the
old Nasturtium, £c., although they are not warm to the hand, either
when applied whole or in powder, yet when slightly chewed appear
warm, and after a fashion scorching, to the tongue and palate.

26. Strong Vinegar and all acids cause a pain in a member where
there is no skin ; as the eye, or the tongue ; or in any part that is
wounded and stripped of its skin, differing but little from that induced
by heat.

27. Also sharp and intense Cold induces a certain sense of
burning : —

Nam Boreae penetrabile frigus admit.

28. Other Instances.

NO I' U AT ORGANUM. 309

This we arc accustomed to call the Table, of Existence and
Presence*

xii. Secondly, a presentation to the Understanding must be made
of Instances which are wanting in the given Nature ; because the
Form (as we have said) ought no less to be absent where the given
Nature is absent, than present where it is present. Hut to follow this
out in all cases would be useless ; and so we must subjoin the nega
tives to the affirmatives, and only look into the absence of the Nature
in these subjects which are mcst allied to those others in which the
given Nature is inherent and apparent. This we are accustomed to
call the Table of Declination, or of Absence in Proximity.

Instances in Proximity wanting the \atitre of Heat.

First Instance, Negative or Subjunctive, to the First Affirmative
Instance.

1. The rays of the moon, of the stars and comets, arc not found to
be hot to the touch ; nay, rather, the sharpest cold is usually observed
at time of full moon. Hut the larger fixed stars, when the sun passes
under or approaches them, are thought to increase and tensify its
heat, as is the case when the sun stands in the sign of the Lion, and
in the clog days.

To the Second.

2. The rays of the sun in the mid region of the air, as they call it,
give no heat ; and the reason which is commonly given (or this is not
a bad one, viz., that that region is neither near enough the body of
the sun, whence the rays emanate, nor to the earth, whence they arc
reflected, to be much affected by them. And this is dear from the
fact, that on the tops of mountains (which arc not very high) the snow
is perpetual. Hut, on the other hand, it has been remarked by some
that on the summit of the 1'cak of TcnerilTe, and also on the Peruvian
Andes, the very tops of the mountains arc devoid of snow, which lies
only in spots lower clown the ascent. And, moreover, the air on these
same summits is found to be far from cold, but only rare and keen ;
so much so, that on the Andes it irritates and wounds the eyes by its
excessive sharpness, and even irritates the orifice of the stomach, and
induces vomiting. And it has been remarked by the ancients, that so
great is the rarity of the air on the top of Olympus, that it was neces
sary for those who ascended to take with them sponges moistened
with vinegar and water, and to apply them continually to the mouth
and nostrils, the air being so rare as not to suffice for respiration.
And so serene is that summit said to have been, and so free from rain,
and snow, and wind, that when sacrifices were offered there, the
letters traced in the ashes of the sacrifices on the altar of Jupiter
remained undisturbed until the next year. And even at the present
day the ascent of the Peak of Teneriflc is made by night, and not by
day ; and shortly after sunrise travellers are warned and urged by
their guides to descend as quickly as possible, on account of the

310 NOVUM ORGANUM.

danger (as it appears) of their being suffocated by the rarity of the
atmosphere.

To the Second.

3. The reflection of the rays of the sun in regions near the polar
circles is found to be very slight, and barren of heat ; so that the
Dutch who wintered in Nova Zembla, and were expecting their ship
to be liberated and disentangled from the mass of ice (by which it
was beset) about the beginning of July, were disappointed of their
expectation, and compelled to take to their boat. Thus the direct
rays of the sun seem to have but little power, even upon level ground,
nor have they much even when reflected, unless they be multiplied
and combined ; as is the case when the sun inclines much to the per
pendicular, because then the incident rays make acuter angles, so
that the lines of the rays are nearer together; while, on the other
hand, when the sun shines very obliquely, the angles are very obtuse,
and consequently the lines of the rays more distant from one another.
But in the meantime it must be remarked that there may be many
operations of the sun's rays, and those even of the nature of heat,
which are not proportioned to our sense of touch ; so that while in
respect of us they do not produce warmth, still, in respect of some
other bodies, they have the effect of heat.

To the Second.

4. Let this experiment be made. Take a lens fashioned in a con
trary way to the usual burning lenses, and place it between the hand
and the sun's rays, observing whether it diminishes the heat of the
sun as the burning lens increases and intensifies it. For it is mani
fest, in the case of optical rays, that in proportion as the lens is made
of unequal thickness, in respect of its centre and sides, will objects
appear magnified or contracted. And so it must be seen whether the
same is the case with heat.

7*o the Second.

5. Let experiment be diligently made whether, by means of burning
lenses of the greatest power and the best make, the rays of the moon
can be taken np and collected so as to produce even the smallest
degree of warmth. But if that degree of warmth be too subtle and
weak to be perceived and felt by the touch, recourse must then be
had to those glasses which indicate the condition of the air with
respect to heat and cold ; so that the rays of the moon may fall
through a burning lens, and be thrown on the top of a glass of this
kind ; and then let it be noted if the water be depressed by the
warmth.

To the Second.

6. Let the burning glass be also tried on some warm body, which
gives forth neither rays nor light ; as iron and stone heated, but not
ignited, or hot water and the like ; and let it be noted whether the
heat be increased or intensified, as in the case of the sun's rays.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 311

To the Second.

7. Let the burning lens be also tried upon common flame.

To the Third.

8. Comets (if, indeed, we choose to reckon them among meteors)
are not found to possess any constant or manifest effect in increasing
the heat of the year, although droughts have been frequently observed
to follow their appearance. Moreover, beams, and columns of light,
and chasms, and the like, appear oftener in winter than in summer,
and most of all during intense cold, but always accompanied by
drought. Yet lightning, coruscations, and thunder rarely happen in
winter, but at the time of great heats ; while falling stars (as they
are called) are commonly thought to consist of some bright and in
flamed material of a viscous character, rather than to be of a strong
or fiery nature. But of this let further inquiry be made.

To the Fourth.

9. There are some coruscations which emit light, but do not burn ;
but these are never followed by thunder.

To the Fifth.

10. Eructations and eruptions of flame are found no less in cold
than hot regions, as in Iceland and Greenland ; just as also the trees
in cold regions are sometimes more inflammable, and contain more
pitch and resin, than in hot regions, as is the case with the fir, the
pine, and others. But sufficient inquiry has not been made as to
the position and nature of the soil in which eruptions of this kind
usually take place, to enable us to subjoin a negative to this
affirmative.

To the Sixth.

11. All flame is more or less hot, nor can any negative be subjoined
to it. And yet they say that the Ignis Faluns, as it is called, which
is sometimes projected on a wall, has not much heat ; perhaps it is
like the flame of spirit of wine, which is mild and gentle. But that
flame seems to be still more mild, which, according to some trust
worthy and weighty histories, is said to have appeared round the
heads and hair of boys and virgins, without singeing their hair in the
slightest degree, but flickering gently around it. And it is most cer
tain that a kind of coruscation, unaccompanied by manifest heat, has
appeared around a sweating horse when journeying in the night-time
during fine weather. And a few years ago it was a matter very much
remarked upon, and considered as a miracle, that the apron of a
certain girl gave forth sparks when slightly shaken or rubbed ; but
perhaps this was caused by alum or some other salt in the dye of
the apron, which adhered to it more thickly than usual, so as to form
a crust, which was broken in the rubbing. And it is most certain
that all sugar, whether candied or raw, if it be sufficiently hard, emits
sparks when broken or scraped with a knife in the dark. In like

3i2 NOVUM ORGANUM.

manner sea and salt water is sometimes found to sparkle in the night
when forcibly struck by the oars. Again, during nights when the sea
is agitated by violent tempests, the foam is observed to sparkle, and
this sparkling the Spaniards call "the Lungs of the Sea." And
sufficient inquiry has not been made as to the nature of the heat con
tained in that flame which the sailors of old called " Castor and
Pollux," and the moderns " St. Elmo's fire."

To the Seventh.

12. Everything ignited so as to turn to a fiery redness, though un
accompanied by flame, is invariably hot ; there is no negative to this
affirmative ; but rotten wood seems to come nearest to it, for it shines
by night, and yet is not found to be hot ; and the putrescent scales of
fish, for they also shine by night, and yet are not found to be warm to
the touch ; nor indeed are the bodies of glowworms, nor the fly which
they call luciola, found to be warm to the touch.

To the Eighth.

13. Sufficient inquiry has not been made as to the position and
nature of the soil from which hot baths usually spring, and so no
negative is subjoined.

To the Ninth.

14. To warm liquids is subjoined as a negative the peculiar nature
of liquid itself. For there is found no tangible liquid which is hot in
its own nature and remains so constantly ; but heat is superinduced
for a time only, as an adventitious nature ; so that those things which
in power and operation are hottest, as spirit of wine, chemical aromatic
oils, oil of vitriol and sulphur, and the like, which burn after a while,
are at first cold to the touch. Now the water of natural baths, taken
up in a vessel and separated from its source, cools down like water
heated by fire. But it is true that oily bodies are a little less cold to
the touch than watery ones, oil being less cold than water, and silk
than linen. But this belongs to the Table of Degrees of Cold.

To the Tenth.

15. In like manner is subjoined, as negative to hot vapour, the
nature of vapour itself, as it is found among us. For exhalations from
oily matters, though they are easily inflammable, are yet not found to
be hot, unless recently exhaled from a hot body.

To the Tenth.

16. In like manner the nature of air itself is subjoined as a negative
to hot air. For air is not found with us to be hot, unless it be either
shut up or compressed, or manifestly heated by the sun, by fire, or by
some other hot body.

To the Eleventh.

17. As negative we have subjoined seasons which are colder than

NOVUM ORGANUM. 313

is warranted by the time of year, as is the case when the east or north
wind blows ; just as seasons of an opposite character occur when the
south and west winds prevail. So a tendency to rain (especially during
whiter) accompanies a warm season ; while, on the other hand, frost
accompanies cold weather.

To the Twelfth.

18. Is subjoined, ns negative, air confined in caverns during summer.
But concerning confined air a diligent inquiry must by all means be
made. For, in the first place, doubt arises, and not without cause, as
to what is the nature of air, as regards heat and cold, in its own proper
nature. Now air receives its heat from the impression of the heavenly
bodies, and its cold perhaps from the evaporation of the earth ; and
again in the mid region of the air (as it is called) from cold vapours
and snows, so that no opinion can be formed as to the nature of air
from the examination of portions of it which are at large and exposed,
but a truer judgment might be formed by examining it when confined.
Hut it is also necessary that the air should be confined in a vessel of
such material as shall neither itself imbue the air with heat or cold of
its own nature, nor easily admit the influence of the external atmo
sphere ; and therefore let experiment be made in an earthen jar
wrapped in several folds of leather to protect it from the external air ;
let it remain for three or four days in a vessel carefully closed ; and
on the opening of the vessel, the result may be tested either by the
application of the hand, or by means of a glass properly graduated.

To the Thirteenth.

19. There exists a similar doubt whether the warmth in wool, skins,
feathers, and the like, arises from some slight degree of heat inherent
in them, inasmuch as they arc animal excretions, or from a certain
fatness and oiliness, which is of a nature akin to warmth, or simply
from the confinement and separation of the air, as was mentioned in
the last article. For all air, when cut off from communication with the
external atmosphere, seems to have in it some warmth. And so let
experiment be made on fibrous substances made of linen, but not of
wool, feathers, or silk, which are animal excretions. It must abo be
remarked that all powders (in which air is clearly enclosed) are less
< old than the bodies before they are pulveri/ed, as also we think that
all foam (as containing air) is less cold than the liquid itself.

To the Fourteenth.

20. To this no negative is subjoined. For nothing is found among
us, either tangible or spiritual, which when put to the fire does not
take up heat. There is, however, this difference, that some things
take up heat more quickly, as air, oil, and water ; othcss more slowly,
as stone and metals. But this belongs to the Table of Degrees.

To the Fifteenth.

21. The only negative subjoined to this Instance, is that it should

314 NOVUM ORGANISM.

be carefully noted that sparks are not elicited from flint and steel, or
any other hard substance, except when some particles are struck out
of the substance of the stone or metal ; and that the attrition of air
itself never generates sparks, as it is commonly thought ; and more
over that these sparks themselves, owing to the weight of the ignited
body, tend downward, rather than upwards, and on extinction turn
into a kind of sooty matter.

To the Sixteenth.

22. There is, we think, no negative subjoined to this Instance. For
no tangible body is found among us which does not clearly grow hot
under attrition, insomuch that the ancients imagined that the heavenly
bodies possessed no other power or means of generating heat than the
attrition of the air during their rapid and energetic rotation. But
under this head it must be further inquired whether bodies discharged
from machines (as cannon-balls) do not contract some degree of heat
from the percussion thereof, so as, after they have fallen, to be found
somewhat hot. But air in motion cools rather than heats, as in the
case of wind, blowing with bellows, and from the partially closed
mouth. But motion of this kind is not sufficiently rapid to excite
heat, and acts throughout the whole body, and not by particles, so
that it is not wonderful that it does not generate heat.

To the Seventeenth.

23. About this Instance a more diligent inquiry must be made.
For herbs and green and moist vegetables seem to have in them
some latent heat. But this heat is so slight as not to be perceived
by the touch when they are single, but only when they are collected
and confined, so that their spirits cannot escape into the air, but
rather cherish each other : whence there arises manifest heat, and
sometimes flame, in suitable matter.

To the Eighteenth.

24. About this Instance also a more diligent inquiry must be made.
For it appears that quick-lime, when sprinkled with water, conceives
heat, either from the condensation of the heat which was previously
dispersed (as was mentioned above in the case of confined herbs), or
from the irritation and exasperation of the fiery spirit by the water, so
as to occasion a kind of conflict and reaction. But which is the real
cause will appear more readily if oil be substituted for water. For oil
will serve as well as water to combine the enclosed spirit, and will not
irritate it. Moreover the experiment must be extended over a wider
field, by calling into use the ashes and cinders of different bodies, and
by applying different liquids.

To the Nineteenth.

25. To this Instance is subjoined the negative of other metals which
are softer and more reducible. For gold leaf, dissolved by means of
aqua regia, gives out no heat to the touch during solution ; nor does

NOVUM ORGANUM. 315

lead dissolve in aqua fortis ; nor, indeed, does quicksilver (as we
remember) ; but silver itself does in a slight degree, and copper also
(as we remember), and tin more manifestly ; and most of all iron and
steel, for they not only excite a strong heat in the process of dissolution,
but a violent ebullition also. Heat appears, therefore, to be originated
by conflict, when strong waters penetrate, and pierce, and tear asunder
the parts of a body, and the body itself resists. But when bodies
yield more easily, scarcely any heat is excited.

To the Twentieth,

26. To the heat of animals no negative is subjoined, unless it be that
of insects (as has been said), on account of the smallness of their
bodies. For in fishes, as compared with land animals, it is rather the
low degree than the absence of heat that is noted. But in vegetables
and plants no degree of heat is perceived by the touch, nor in their
exudations, nor in their pith, when recently laid bare. But in animals
there is found a great diversity of heat, both in their parts (the degree
of heat differing at the heart, in the brain, and at the surface) and in
their accidents, as in vehement exercise and fevers.

To the Twenty-first.

27. To this Instance scarcely any negative is subjoined. Moreover
the stale excrements of animals have evidently a potential heat, as is
seen in the fattening of the soil.

To the Twenty-second and Twenty-third.

28. Liquids (whether they go by the name of water or of oil) which
possess a great and intense acidity, imitate the operation of heat in
the disruption of bodies, and after a time in burning them, and yet to
the touch they are not hot at first. But they operate relatively, and
according to the porosity of the body to which they are applied. For
aqua regia dissolves gold, but does not touch silver, while on the other
hand aqua fortis dissolves silver, but does not touch gold ; and neither
of them dissolves glass, and so of the rest.

To the Twenty- fourth.

29. Let experiment be made as to the action of spirit of wine on
wood, and also on butter, wax, or pitch, if it will mek them in any
degree by its heat. For the twenty-fourth Instance shows its power
of imitating heat in producing incrustations. And let an experiment
be made in like manner in the case of liquefactions. Let experiment
be also made by means of a graduated glass or thermometer, concave
on the outside at the top, by pouring highly rectified spirit of wine
into the concavity, and covering it over that it may better retain its
heat ; and note if it makes the water descend by its heat.

To the Twenty-fifth.

30. Spices and pungent herbs arc felt to be hot to the palate, much
more so when taken internally. And so it must be seen on what

316 NOVUM ORGANUM.

other materials they produce the effects of heat. Sailors state that
when bundles and masses of spices, which have been shut up for a
long time, are suddenly opened, those who first disturb and take them
out stand in danger of fevers and inflammations. In like manner it
may be tried whether spices and herbs of this kind, when powdered,
would not dry bacon and meat, hung over them, as smoke does.

To the Twenty-sixth.

31. There is an acidity or penetrating power in cold substances, as
vinegar and oil of vitro), as well as in hot, as oil of marjoram and the
like. And so they equally excite pain in animated bodies, and dis
integrate and destroy the parts of inanimate substances. Therefore
to this Instance no negative is subjoined. But in animated bodies no
pain is found to exist without a certain sensation of heat.

To the Twenty-seventh.

32. Heat and cold have very many actions in common, though
in a very different manner. For snow seems after a while to burn
children's hands, and cold preserves flesh from putrefaction, no less
than fue ; and heat contracts bodies into a smaller bulk, as also does
cold. But it is more convenient to refer these and similar instances
to the inquiry concerning cold.

xiii. Thirdly, we must make a Presentation to tJie Intellect of
Instances in which the Nature under inquiry exists in different
degrees, more or less, either by comparing its increase and decrease
in the same subject, or by instituting a comparison of its amount in
different subjects by turn. For since the Form of a thing is the very
thing itself, and since a thing differs from its Form only as the appa
rent differs from the actual, the external from the internal, or that
which is referred to man from that which is referred to the universe ;
it necessarily follows that no Nature can be received as the true
Form, unless it decreases invariably when the Nature itself decreases,
and in like manner invariably increases when the Nature itself in
creases. And so we have usually called this table The Table of
Degree S) or The Table of Comparison.

Table of Degrees or Comparison in Heat.

We shall therefore first speak of those substances which have no
degree of heat at all perceptible to the touch, but which seem to have
a certain potential heat, or disposition and preparation for warmth.
Afterwards we shall descend to Instances which are hot actually, or to
the touch, and to their intensities or degrees.

i. Among solid and tangible bodies we find nothing which is in its
own Nature originally hot. For there is no stone, metal, sulphur,
fossil, wood, water, nor corpse of any animal, which is found to be hot.
And hot waters in baths seem to attain their heat accidentally, either
through the agency of flame or subterranean fire, such as is vomited
forth by /Etna and many other mountains, or from the conflict of
bodies, as heat is caused in the solution of iron and tin. And so there

NOW At ORGANUM. 317

is no degree of heat in inanimate things perceptible to the human
touch ; but yet they differ in decree of cold, for wood and metal are
not equally cold. But this belongs to the Table of Decrees in Cold.

2. As regards potential heat and preparation for flame, very many
inanimate substances are found to be very much disposed thereto, as
sulphur, naphtha, petroleum.

3. Substances which were once hot, such as horse-dung, or lime,
or perhaps ashes, and soot, retain some latent remnants of their
former heat, And so certain distillations and separations of bodies
arc brought about by burying them in horse-dung, and heat is excited
in iime by sprinkling it with water, as has been already said.

4. Among vegetables we do not find any plant, or part of a plant
(as gum or pith), which is hot to the human touch. But yet (as has
been said above) green herbs, when shut up together, gather heat ; and
some vegetables are found to be hot, and others cold to the internal
touch, as to the palate, or the stomach, or even, after a little time, to
the external parts, as in the case of plasters and ointments.

5. In the parts of animals, after death or separation, we find nothing
hot to the touch. For horse-dung itself does not retain heat, unless
it be confined and buried. But yet all dung seems to have a potential
heat, as appears in the fertilizing of land. And in like manner the
corpses of animals have some such latent and potential heat, so that
in grave-yards where burials take place daily, the earth contracts a
kind of hidden heat, which consumes any corpses recently interred
far more quickly than pure earth. And it is said that among the
Orientals a certain thin and soft web has been discovered, prepared
from the plumage of birds, which, by an innate power, dissolves and
liquefies butter when lightly wrapped up in it.

6. Fertilizing substances, such as dung of all kinds, chalk, sea-sand,
salt, and the like, have some disposition to heat.

7. All putrefaction has in it certain elements of slight heat, though
not sufficient to be perceptible to the touch. For not even those
substances which by putrefaction turn to animalcuhe, such as flesh, or
cheese, are perceptibly hot ; nor is rotten wood, which shines at niglit,
found to be hot to the touch. But the heat of putrid matter sometimes
betrays itself by foul and strong smells.

8. And so the first degree of heat, among those substaaices which
feel hot to the touch, seems to be the heat of animals ; and this has
great latitude in its degrees, for the lowest degree (as in insects) is
scarcely felt by the touch ; but the highest scarcely reaches to the
degree of heat possessed by the sun's rays in the warmest regions and
seasons, nor is it too severe to be born by the hand. And yet they
relate of Constantius, and some others of a very dry constitution and
habit of body, that when attacked by very acute fever, they became so
hot as to seem almost to burn a hand placed on them.

9. Animals increase in heat by motion and exercise, by wine and
feasting, by desire, by raging fevers, and by pain.

10. Animals, when attacked by intermittent fevers, are seized at
first with cold and shivering, but after a while grow extremely hot ;

3i8 NOVUM ORGANUM.

and the same is the case from the beginning in burning and pesti
lential fevers.

11. Let farther inquiry be made as to the comparative heat in
different animals, as fishes, quadrupeds, serpents, birds ; and also with
reference to their species, as in the lion, the kite, the man ; for in
common opinion fishes are least hot internally, birds most so ; especially
doves, hawks, ostriches.

12. Let further inquiry be made concerning the comparative heat
in different parts and members of the same animal. For milk, blood,
seed, eggs, are found to be moderately warm, and less hot than the
outer flesh of the animal when in motion or agitated. But what is the
degree of heat in the brain, stomach, heart, and other parts, has not
yet been in like manner investigated.

13. All animals in winter and cold weather become cold externally,
but internally they are thought to be even hotter.

14. The heat of the heavenly bodies, even in the hottest regions,
and at the hottest times of the year and day, does not attain power
enough to inflame or burn either the driest wood or straw, or even
tinder, unless it be strengthened by burning mirrors ; but yet it can
extract vapour out of moist substances.

15. According to the report of astronomers, some stars are hotter
than others. For among the Planets, after the Sun, Mars is set down
as the hottest, then comes Jupiter, and then Venus ; among the cold
are reckoned the Moon, and, above all, Saturn. And among the
fixed stars, Sirius is accounted hottest, then Cor Leonis, or Regulus,
then Canicula, &c.

1 6. The Sun gives out more heat in proportion as it approaches the
perpendicular or zenith, and this may be held to be the case with the
other Planets also in their degrees of heat ; for example, Jupiter gives
us more heat when he is situated in Cancer or Leo, than when in
Capricorn or Aquarius.

17. We must believe that the Sun itself and the other Planets give
out greater heat in perigee, on account of their propinquity to the earth,
than in apogee. But if it happens that in any region the Sun is in
perigee, and at the same time near to the perpendicular, he must
necessarily give more heat than in a region where he is also in perigee,
but more oblique. So that a comparison of the altitude of planets
ought to be noted, as they are more perpendicular or oblique in
different regions.

18. The Sun, and the other Planets likewise, are thought to give
more heat when near the larger fixed stars ; thus, when the Sun is in
Leo he is nearer Cor Leonis, Cauda Leonis, Spica Virginis, Sirius, and
Canicula, than when he is in Cancer, although he then is more per
pendicular. And it is to be believed that those quarters of the heavens
shed the greatest heat (although not perceptible to the touch) which are
the most plentifully adorned with stars, especially the larger ones.

19. To sum up, the heat of the Heavenly Bodies is increased in
three ways, viz., by perpendicularity, by propinquity or perigee, and by
conjunction or combination of stars.

NOW At ORGANUAf. 319

20. A very great interval is found to exist between the heat of
animals and even of the rays of the heavenly bodies (as they come to
us), on the one hand, and flame, though of the mildest kind, and all
ignited bodies, and liquids, and air itself, when highly heated by fire,
on the other. For the flame of spirit of wine, which is especially rare
when uncondenscd, can still inflame straw, linen, or paper ; which the
heat of animals, or of the sun, can never do without the aid of burning
lenses.

21. Now of Flame and Ignited Substances there arc very many
degrees as to strength and weakness of heat. But on these points no
diligent inquiry has been made, so that we must perforce pass lightly
by them. But among flames that of spirit of wine seems to be the
mildest, unless, perchance, ihe ignis fa/uus, and flames or coruscations
arising from the perspiration of animals, be milder. Next to this we
think, comes flame derived from vegetables which are light and porous,
such as straw, reeds, and dry leaves ; from which the flame of hair or
feathers differs but little. iNicxt, perhaps, comes flame from wood,
especially those kinds which have not much resin or pitch, excepting
that flame from small-sized wood (such as is commonly tied up in
faggots) is gentler than that from the trunks and roots of trees. And
this may be tried in the common furnaces for smelting iron, in which
fire made with faggots and boughs of trees is not very useful. Next
comes (as we think; flame from oil, tallow, wax, and such like oily and
fatty substances, which have no great sharpness. But the strongest
degree of heat is found in pitch and resin, and above all in sulphur,
camphor, naphtha, petroleum, and salts (after their raw matter has been
voided), and in their compounds, as gunpowder, (Ireck fire (which they
commonly call wild fire), and its different kinds, which possess so
obstinate a heat as not easily to be extinguished by water.

22. We think also that flame which results from some imperfect
metals is very powerful and severe. But of all these let further inquiry
be made.

23. The flame of destructive lightning appears to exceed all the
foregoing, so that it has sometimes melted wrought iron itself into
drops, a thing which these other flames cannot do.

24. In ignited substances, again, there are different degrees of heat,
about which no diligent inquiry has been made. We think that the
weakest heat is that arising from tinder, which we use to kindle flame,
and likewise that of spongy wood, or fine dry tow, which is employed
ito fire cannon. Next to this comes ignited wood and coal, and
-also bricks heated to redness, and the like. But the most vehement
.heat we think to be that of ignited metals, such as iron, copper, &c.
.But concerning these, also, further inquiry must be made.

25. Some substances in a state of ignition arc found to be far hotter
'than some kinds of flame. For ignited iron is much hotter and more
consuming than the flame of spirit of wine.

26. Of those substances which are not ignited, but only heated by
ifire, as boiling water, and air shut up in rcvci beratories, some are found
•to surpass in heat many flames and ignited substances.

326 NOVUM ORGANUM.

27. Motion increases heat, as we see in the case of bellows and the
blast ; insomuch that the harder metals are not melted or liquefied by
means of a dull or quiet fire, unless it be quickened by a blast.

28. Let experiment be made by means of burning lenses, which (as
we remember) operate thus : if a lens be placed (suppose) a span
distance from the combustible object, it does not kindle or inflame it
so readily as it would if it were placed at the distance of (say) half a
span, and then moved gradually and slowly to the distance of a span.
Yet the cone and union of the rays are the same, but the motion itself
increases the operation of the heat.

29. Those conflagrations which take place when a strong wind is
blowing are thought to make greater progress against the wind than
with it, because flame recoils with a swifter motion when the wind
slackens, than that with which it advances while the wind is driving
it on.

30. Flame does not burst forth, nor is it produced, unless it has some
hollow space in which to move and play ; except the explosive flame
of gunpowder, and the like, where compression and imprisonment of
the flame increases its fury.

31. The anvil becomes very hot under the hammer, so that were
the anvil to consist of a rather thin plate, we imagine it would, under
strong and continued blows of the hammer, become red hot, like ignited
iron ; but of this let experiment be made.

32. But in the case of ignited bodies which are porous, and which
give space for the fire to move, if this motion be restrained by strong
compression, the fire is immediately extinguished ; as when tinder, or
the burning wick of a candle or lamp, or even burning charcoal, or
coal, is compressed by pincers, or by treading with the foot, or the
like, the action of the fire immediately ceases.

33. Approximation to a hot body increases heat in proportion to the
degree of approximation ; and this is also the case with light, for the
nearer an object is brought to the light, the more visible it becomes.

34. The union of different heats increases heat, unless the bodies
themselves be mingled. For a great fire and a little fire in the same
place increase one another's heat, but tepid water poured into boiling
water cools it.

35. The continued presence of a hot body increases heat. For the
heat continually passing through and flowing forth from it, mingles
with the previously existing heat, so as to multiply it. A fire does not
heat a chamber in half an hour so well as it would if it had been
burning a whole hour. But this is not the case with light, for a lamp
or a candle gives no more light after burning for some time than it did
when first lighted.

36. Irritation caused by surrounding cold increases heat, as we may
see in fires during a sharp frost. And this, we think, is due not only
to the confinement and contraction of the heat, which is a kind of
union, but to exasperation ; thus when air or a stick is violently com
pressed or bent, it does not recoil to its former position, but goes
further in the opposite direction. And so let trial be carefully made,

NOVUM ORGANUM.

by putting a stick, or something of the kind, into flame, to see whether
it be not burned more quickly at the sides than in the middle of the
llame.

37. Now there are very many degrees in susceptibility of heat ; and,
first of all, it must be remarked how small and trifling a heat changes,
and to a certain degree warms, even those bodies which are least
susceptible of it. For the heat of the hand imparts some heat to a
bullet of lead or any other metal, when it has been held in it a little
while. So easily and universally is heat transmitted and excited,
without the body undergoing any apparent change.

38. Air takes up and gives oflf heat more easily than any other body
known to us, as is best seen in heat glasses. They are constructed
thus : take a glass with a hollow belly, and a long narrow neck ; turn
it upside down, and insert it, mouth downwards and belly upwards,
into another glass vessel containing water, so that the mouth of the
upper vessel touches the bottom of the receiver ; let the neck of the
inserted glass rest a little on the mouth of the receiver, so that it may
stand steadily ; and that this may be done more conveniently, apply a
little wax to the mouth of the receiver, taking care not to close it
entirely, lest the motion, of which we are now about to speak, and
which is very subtle and delicate, be impeded for want of a supply of air.

Now the inverted glass, before it is introduced into the other, should
have its upper part, ;>., its belly, heated at the fire. Then, when the
heated glass has been placed as we have directed, the air ('which was
expanded by the heat) will draw itself back and contract (after a delay
sufficient to allow for the extinction of the adventitious heat) to the
same extension or dimension as that of the surrounding air at the time
of the insertion of the glass, and will draw up the water to a corre
sponding standard. Moreover there should be attached along narrow
slip of paper, graduated at pleasure. Then you will see that, as the
temperature of the day rises with heat, or falls with cold, the air
contracts in like manner ; and this will be rendered conspicuous by
the ascent of the water when the air is contracted, and by its descent
or depression when it is dilated. Now the sensibility of air to heat
and cold is so subtle and exquisite, as far to exceed the power of
human touch ; so that a ray of sunlight, or the heat of the breath,
and, much more, the heat of the hand, falling on the top of the glass,
immediately depresses the water to a perceptible degree. But yet we
think that the spirit of animals has a still more exquisite sense of heat
and cold, only that it is hindered and rendered dull by the mass of
their bodies.

39. Next to air we think that those bodies are most sensitive of heat
which have been recently changed and compressed by cold, such as
snow and ice, for they begin to be dissolved and liquefied by any
gentle warmth. Next to them probably comes quicksilver; after this
come fatty bodies, such as oil, butter, and the like ; then wood, then
water. Lastly, stones and metals, which do not readily admit of heat,
especially internally. These, however, when they have once acquired
Jieat, retain it for a very long time ; so that if brick or stone, or iron

21

322 NOVUM ORGANUM.

in a state of ignition, be plunged into a basin of cold water, will for a
quarter of an hour (more or less) retain so much heat as to render it
impossible to touch them.

40. The less the mass of a body, the more quickly it becomes heated
by the approximation of a hot body ; and this shows that all the heat
which we possess is in some way opposed to tangible matter.

41. Heat, as regards sense and touch, is variable and relative ; so
that warm water feels hot to a hand which is previously cold, but cold
if the hand be hot.

xiv. How deficient we are in History any one will easily see from
the above tables, in which we not only sometimes insert traditions and
reports (always, however, accompanied by a mark of doubtful credit
and authority) in place of approved History and certain Instances, but
are also very frequently obliged to make use of the expressions, " Let
experiment be made," or " Let it be further inquired."

xv. And the work and office of these three tables we usually call
Presentation of Instances to tlie Understanding. Now, when Presen
tation has been made, Induction itself must be put into operation.
For we have to find, on Presentation of all and each of the Instances,
such a Nature as shall be always present when the given Nature is
present, and absent when it is absent ; as shall increase and decrease
with it, and be (as has been said above) a limitation of a more common
Nature. Now, if the mind tries to do this affirmatively from the
beginning (which she will always do when left to herself), there will
rise up phantasms, and questions of opinion, and notions ill defined,
and Axioms requiring emendation from day to day ; unless we choose
(like the Schoolmen) to contend for what is false. Still, they will
undoubtedly be better or worse according to the faculties and strength
of the Understanding which is engaged on them. It belongs, most
certainly, to God (the Giver and Maker of Forms), and perhaps also
to Angels and Intelligences, to know Forms immediately and affirma
tively at the very outset of their contemplation. But this assuredly is
far beyond the reach of man ; to whom it is granted only to proceed
at first by negatives, and at last to end in affirmatives, after every kind
of Exclusion has been tried.

xvi. And so a complete solution and separation of Nature must be
made ; not by means of fire, indeed, but by the mind, as if it were a
divine fire. And thus the first work of true Induction (as far as relates
to the discovery of Forms) is the Rejection or Exclusion of the several
Natures, which are not found in some Instance where the given Nature
is present, or which are found in some Instance where the given Nature
is absent, or which are found to increase in some Instance when the
given Nature decreases, or to decrease when the given Nature
increases. Then indeed, after Rejection and Exclusion have been duly
made, there will remain in the second place, as it were at the bottom
(light opinions going off like smoke), a Form affirmative, solid, true,
and well defined. And this, though easily spoken, is only arrived at
after many failures. Now we shall try to omit nothing which may
help us towards it.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 323

xvii. But while we seem to attach so much importance to Forms, we
cannot too often caution and admonish our readers against applying
our remarks to those Forms to which the contemplations and thoughts
of men have hitherto been accustomed.

For, in the first instance, we do not at present speak of copulative
Forms, which are (as we have said) combinations of simple Natures
according to the common course of the universe, as of a lion, an eagle,
a rose, gold, and the like. For it will be time to treat of these when
we come to Latent Processes and Latent Structures, and their dis
coveries, as they are found in what are called concrete Substances or
Natures.

Nor, again, should what we say be understood (even as regards
simple Natures) of abstract Forms and Ideas, either undetermined or
badly determined in matter. For when we speak of Forms, we mean
nothing more than those laws and determinations of pure action which
ordain and constitute any simple Nature ; as Heat, Light, Weight, in
every kind of susceptible matter and subject. And so the Form of
Heat or of Light is the same thing as the Law of Heat or of Light ;
nor, indeed, do we ever withdraw or retire from things themselves and
their practical side. Wherefore, when we say (for example), in an
inquiry into the Form of Heat, "reject rarity," or " rarity is not part
of the Form of Heat,'1 it is the same thing as if we were to say '' man
can superinduce heat in a dense body ; " or, on the other hand, " man
can take away or keep off heat from a rare body."

But if any one should think that our Forms are somewhat abstract,
in that they combine and join what is heterogeneous (for the heat of
heavenly bodies and the heat of fire seem to be very heterogeneous,
as also do the fixed red in a rose, or the like, and the apparent red in
the rainbow, in the rays of the opal or of the diamond ; so, again, do
death by drowning, by hanging, by stabbing, by apoplexy, by atrophy,
and the like ; and yet they agree in the Nature of heat, redness, and
death), let him recollect that his understanding is held captive by
custom, by generalities, and by opinions. For it is most certain that
these things, however heterogeneous and distinct, agree in that Form
or Law which ordains heat, or redness, or death, and that the power
of man cannot be emancipated and set free from the common course
of Nature, and expanded and exalted to new efficients and methods of
operating, except by the revelation and discovery of Forms of this
kind. And yet, after discussing that union of Nature which is the
most important point, we shall go on to speak afterwards, in their
proper place, of the divisions and veins of Nature, as well those that
are ordinary as those that are more inward and exact.

xviii. But now we must set forth an example of the Exclusion or
Rejection of Natures, which, by the Tables of Presentation, are found
not to be of the Form of Heat ; meanwhile calling to mind that not
only is each Table sufficient for the rejection of any Nature, but even
any one of the Individual Instances contained in the Tables. For it
is manifest, from what has been said, that any one Contrattictory
Instance is fatal to a conjecture as to the Form. But nevertheless, for

NOVUM ORGANUM.

the sake of clearness, and that the use of the Tables may be shown
more distinctly, we sometimes double or repeat an exclusion.

Example of Exclusion or Rejection of Natures from the Form of

Heat.

1. By the Sun's Rays, reject elementary Nature.

2. By Common Fire, and especially by Subterraneous Fire (which
is most remote, and most completely cut off from the Rays of heavenly
Bodies), reject heavenly Nature.

3. By the heating of all kinds of Bodies (i.e., minerals, vegetables,
outer parts of animals, water, oil, air, and the rest) on mere approxi
mation to a fire, or other hot body, reject all variety or more subtle
texture of bodies.

4. By Ignited Iron and other Metals which heat other bodies, and
yet are not at all diminished in weight or substance, reject \\\z commu
nication or admixture of the substance of another hot body.

5. By boiling Water and Air, and even by Metals and other solid
Bodies when heated, but not to the point of ignition or red heat, reject
light and illumination.

6. By the Rays of the Moon and other luminaries (except the Sun),
reject also light and illumination.

7. By the Comparison of Ignited Iron, and the Flame of Spirit of
Wine (of which ignited iron has more heat and less light, and the
flame of spirit of wine more light and less heat), reject also light and
illumination.

8. By Ignited Gold and other Metals which are most dense, when
taken as a whole, reject rarity.

9. By Air, which is found for the most part to be cold, and yet
remains rare, also reject rarity.

10. By Ignited Iron, which does not expand in bulk, but remains
within the same visible dimensions, reject also local or expansive
motion in the whole.

11. By the dilatation of Air in heat-glasses and the like, wherein it
manifestly moves locally and expansively, and yet acquires no sensible
increase of heat, reject also local or expansive motion of the whole as
a body.

12. By the facility with which all Bodies are heated without any
destruction or remarkable alteration, reject a destructive Nature, or
the violent communication of any new Nature.

13. By the agreement and conformity of the similar effects produced
by Heat and Cold, reject both expansive and contractile motion in the
whole.

14. By the kindling of Heat from the attrition of bodies, reject*.
principal Nature ; and by principal Nature we mean that which is found
to exist positively in Nature, and is not caused by a preceding Nature.

There are also other Natures ; for the Tables which we construct
are not perfect, but only examples.

All and each of the aforesaid Natures are not of the Form of Heat j
and from all of them man is freed when operating on heat.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 325

xix. In the process of Exclusion are laid the foundations of true
Induction^ which, however, is not perfected until it rest in the
affirmative. Nor is the Exclusive Part itself in any way complete,
nor can it be so in the beginning ; for the Exclusive Part is evidently
a Rejection of simple Natures. But if we have not as yet good and
•true conceptions of simple Nature, how can the process of Exclusion
be made correctly ? Now, some of the above-mentioned notions (as
that of elementary Nature, of heavenly Nature, of Rarity) are vague
and badly defined. And so we, being neither ignorant nor forgetful
how great a work we are attempting (viz. that of rendering the human
understanding a match for things and Nature), by no means rest con
tented with what we have already enjoined ; but proceed further to
contrive and supply stronger aids for the use of the Understanding ;
which we will now subjoin. And, certainly, in the Interpretation of
Nature the Mind should by all means be so prepared and formed, as
both to sustain itself in the proper degrees of certainty, and yet
remember (especially in the beginning) that what it has before it
depends very much on what remains behind.

xx. But yet, since truth emerges more quickly from error than from
confusion, we think it expedient that the Understanding should be
allowed, when the Three Tables of First Presentation (such as we
have laid down) have been made and weighed, to address itself to the
work of Interpreting Nature in the affirmative, by the aid both of the
Instances given in the Tables and of those which occur elsewhere.
And this kind of attempt we usually call The Permission of the
Intellect, or The Commencement of Interpretation, or The First
\ 'intake.

First Vintage of the Form of Heat.

It must be observed that the Form of a thing ('as is clear from what
has been said) exists in each and all the Instances in which the thing
itself exists, for otherwise it would be no Form ; and so, evidently, no
contradictory Instance can be allowed. And yet the Form is found
to be far more conspicuous and evident in some Instances than in
others ; in those, namely, wherein the Nature of the Form is less
coerced and hindered and reduced to order by means of other
Natures. And Instances of this kind we usually call Glaring, or
Ostensive Instances. And thus we must proceed to the First Vintage
of the Form of Heat.

From these Instances, viewed altogether and individually, the
Nature, of which heat is the limitation, seems to be Motion. Now,
this is displayed most of all in flame, which is in perpetual motion,
and in hot and boiling liquids, which also are always in motion. And
it is displayed again in the excitement or increase of heat by motion,
as by bellows and wind ; for which see Instance 29, Table 3. And
similarly in other modes of motion, for which sec Instances 28 and 31,
Table 3. Again, it is displayed in the extinction of tire and heat by
all strong compression which checks and stops motion ; for which see
Instances 30 and 32, Table 3. It is also shown by the fact that every

326 NOVUM ORGANUM.

body is destroyed, or at least remarkably altered, by all strong and
vehement fire and heat. Whence it is quite clear that heat causes
tumult and perturbation, and brisk motion in the internal parts of the
body, which perceptibly tends to its dissolution.

But when we say of motion that it stands in the place of a genus
to heat, we mean to convey not that heat generates motion, or motion,
heat (although even both may be true in some cases), but that essential
heat, or the "quid ipsum " of heat, is Motion and nothing else;
limited, however, by Differences, which we shall presently subjoin,
when we have added some cautions for the avoiding of ambiguity.

Heat, as regards the senses, is a relative thing, and bears relation
to man, and not to the universe, and is rightly defined as merely the
effect of heat on animal spirit ; moreover, it is in itself a variable
thing, for the same body (as the senses are predisposed) induces a
perception both of heat and cold, as is clear from Instance 41,
Table 3.

Nor indeed ought the communication of heat, or its transitive
Nature, by which a body grows hot when applied to a hot body, to be
confounded with the Form of Heat, for heat is one thing and heating
another. Heat is induced by motion of attrition, without any pre
ceding heat ; whence heating is excluded from the Form of Heat.
And even when heat is produced by the approximation of a hot body,
this is not the result of the Form of Heat, but depends altogether on
a higher and more common Nature, viz. on the Nature of assimilation
or self-multiplication ; a subject into which a separate inquiry must be
made.

Again, our notion of fire is popular and worthless ; for it is made up
of the combination of heat and light in any body, as in common flame
and bodies heated to redness.

And so, all ambiguity being removed, we must at length come to
true Differences, which limit motion, and constitute it the Form of
Heat.

The First Difference then is this ; that heat is an expansive motion,
by which a body strives to dilate and to betake itself into a larger
sphere or dimension than it previously occupied. This Difference is
most strongly displayed in flame, when smoke or thick vapour mani
festly dilates and opens itself into flame.

It is shown also in all boiling liquids, which manifestly swell, rise,
and bubble, and continue the process of self-expansion until they are
changed into a far more extended and diluted body than the liquid
itself, viz. in vapour, smoke, or air.

It is shown also in all wood and combustible matter, where exuda
tion takes place sometimes, but evaporation always.

It is shown also in the melting of metals, which (being of compact
texture) do not easily swell and dilate themselves ; but yet their spirit,
being itself dilated, and so imbibing a desire for further dilation,
forces and drives the grossest parts into a liquid state. But if the heat
be much intensified, it dissolves and changes much of their substance
into vapour.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 327

It is shown also in iron or stones, which, although not liquefied or
fused, are yet softened. This is also the case with wooden sticks,
which become flexible when heated for a short time in hot ashes.

But that motion is best seen in the case of air, which continuously
and manifestly dilates with a slight heat ; as is seen from Instance 38,
Table 3.

It is shown also in the contrary Nature of Cold. For cold contracts
all bodies, and forces them into a narrower space ; so that during
intense cold nails fall out of the walls, brazen vessels split, and glass,
when heated and suddenly placed in the cold, cracks and breaks. In
like manner, air is contracted by slight chills, as is seen from Instance
38, Table 3. But of this we shall speak more at large in our inquiry
concerning cold.

Nor is it wonderful that heat and cold exhibit very many actions in
common (for which see Instance 32, Table 2), when two of the follow
ing Differences (of which we shall speak presently) are found to suit
either Nature ; though in the Difference (of which we are now speak
ing) their actions are diametrically opposed. For heat gives an
expansive and dilating, cold a contracting and combining motion.

The Second Difference is a modification of the first, viz. that heat is
a motion expansive (or tending towards the circumference), but with
this condition, that the body tends upwards with it. For without doubt
there are very many kinds of mixed motion ; e.g., an arrow or a dart
rotates at the same time that it proceeds, and proceeds as it rotates.
In like manner, the motion of heat is at once an expansive motion and
a motion upwards.

And this Difference is shown by putting a pair of tongs or an iron
rod into the fire ; for if it be inserted perpendicularly, and held by the
top, it quickly burns the hand ; but if horizontally, or from below,
much more slowly.

It is also conspicuous in distillation pco descensorium^ which is used
for the more delicate flowers, the scent of which easily escapes. For
industry has discovered the plan of placing the fire above instead of
below, that it may burn less. For not only flame tends upwards, but
all heat also.

Now, let an experiment be made with regard to this fact on the
contrary Nature of Cold, viz. whether cold does not contract a body
in a downward, just as heat dilates it in an upward direction. Take,
therefore, two iron rods or tubes of glass, alike in all respects ; heat
them a little, and then place a sponge full of cold water or a lump of
snow under the one, and the same above the other. For we think
that refrigeration will take place more quickly at the extremities of
that stick upon which the snow is placed than at those of that under
which it is placed ; the reverse of which is the case with heat.

The Third Difference is this : that heat is motion of expansion, not
uniformly of the whole body, but in its lesser particles ; and at the
same time restrained, repelled, and turned back, so that it assumes a

328 NOVUM ORGANUM.

motion which is alternative and continually growing strong, and
struggling, and irritated by reflection ; whence the fury of fire and
heat has its origin.

This Difference is shown most of all in flame and boiling liquids,
which are continually quivering and swelling up in small portions and
subsiding again.

It is shown also in those bodies which are so closely compacted, as
not to swell up or be dilated in mass when heated or ignited ; such as
iron in a state of ignition, in which the heat is very fierce.

It is shown also in the fact that a fire burns most briskly in the
coldest weather.

It is shown also in the fact that when air is expanded in a heat-
glass, without impediment or repulsion (that is to say, uniformly and
equally), no heat is perceived. And also in the case of wind which
has been confined, though it breaks out with the greatest violence,
still no remarkable heat is perceived, because the motion is of the
whole, and without alternating motion in the particles. And on this
point let experiment be made whether flame burns more fiercely
towards the sides than in the middle.

It is shown also by the fact that all burning acts on minute pores of
the body which is burned; so that the burning undermines, penetrates,
pricks, and goads the body, just as if an infinite number of sharp
points were at work. And from this it also results, that all strong
waters (when suited to the body on which they act) operate like fire,
owing to their corrosive and pungent nature.

And this Difference (of which we now speak) is common also to the
Nature of Cold ; in which the contractile motion is restrained by a
resistance of expansion, just as in heat the expansive motion is
restrained by a resistance of contraction.

And so, whether parts of a body penetrate towards the interior or
towards the exterior, the principle is the same, although the strength
put forth is very different ; because we have not here upon the surface
of the earth anything which is intensely cold.

The Fourth Difference is a modification of the foregoing ; it is that
this stimulating and penetrating motion must be somewhat rapid, and
the reverse of sluggish, and must take place by particles, minute
indeed, yet not of an extreme degree of subtlety, but a little larger.

This Difference is shown by comparing the effects of fire with those
of time or age. For age or time dries, consumes, undermines, and
reduces to ashes no less than fire, indeed with far more subtlety ; but
because motion of this kind is very sluggish, and takes place through
particles which are very delicate, no heat is perceived.

It is also shown by comparing the dissolution of iron with that of
gold. For gold is dissolved without exciting heat, and the dissolution
of iron takes place with accompaniment of vehement heat, although
the time required for effecting it is nearly the same. This is because, in
the case of the gold, the water of separation makes its entrance gently,
insinuating itself with subtlety, and the particles of the gold yield

NOVUM ORGAXLM. 329

easily ; while in the case of the iron the entrance is made roughly,
and is accompanied by a struggle, the parts of the iron possessing
greater obstinacy.

It is shown also, to a certain extent, in some gangrenes and morti
fication of the llesh, which do not excite great lic.it or pain on account
of the subtlety of the putrefaction.

And let this be the First Vintage, or Commencement of Interpreta
tion, concerning the Form of Heat made by the Permission of the
L 'nderstiindin ^.

Now, from this First Vintage the Form, or true Definition of Heat
(that, I mean, which bears relation to the universe, and is not merely
relative to the senses) is described in a few words, thus : Heat is
motion expansive, restrained, and struggling through the lesser parts
of a body. And the expansion is modified ; though expanding all
'U'avs, it yet has an upward direction. Moreover, the struggle
through the parts is also modified ; ;'/ is not at all sluggish, but
hurried, and accompanied with violence.

And as regards the practical side, it is the same thing. For the
designation is as follows : Jf in any natural body you can excite
motion of self-dilation or expansion, and can so repress that motion
and turn it upon itself that the dilation shall not proceed equally, but
shall gain ground in part, and be repelled in part, beyond doubt you
loill generate heat ; not taking into consideration whether the body be
elementary (as they say) or indued with celestial properties ; whether
it be luminous or opaque ; rare or dense ; locally expanded, or con
tained within the bounds of its first dimension ; tending to dissolu
tion, or remaining as it was; whether it be animal, vegetable, or
mineral ; whether it be water, oil, or air, or any other substance what
ever susceptible of the motion aforesaid. And sensible heat is the
same thing, but viewed with relation to the senses. 15ut now we must
proceed to further aids.

xxi. Having considered the Tables of First Presentation and
Rejection or Exclusion, and having completed the I-'irst Vintage in
accordance with them, we must advance to the other aids of the
Understanding for the Interpretation of \ature and a true and
perfect Induction. In preparing which we shall proceed, when tables
are required, upon the Instances of Heat and Cold ; but where only
a few examples are required, we shall proceed at large with other
subjects, so as to keep our inquiry free from confusion, and yet not
draw too closely the limits of our teaching.

\Ve shall speak therefore, firstly, of Prerogative Instances ; secondly,
of the Supports of Induction; thirdly, of the Rectification of Induc
tion ; fourthly, of the Variation of Inquiry according to the Nature of
the Subject; fifthly, tot Prerogative Natures, with reference to Inquiry,
or of what is to be inquired first, and what afterwards; sixthly, of the
Limits of Inquiry, or of the Synopsis of all A'afitrcs in tlie Universe ;
seventhly, of Deduction to Practice, or of what exists relatively to man ;
eighthly, of Preparations for Inquiry; and lastly, of the Ascending
and Descending Scale of Axioms.

330 NOVUM ORGANUM.

xxii. Among Prerogative Instances we shall set forth first, Solitary
Instances. Now, Solitary Instances are those which exhibit the
Nature under investigation, in subjects which have nothing in common
with other subjects except that same Nature ; or again, those which
do not exhibit the Nature under investigation, in subjects which are
similar to other subjects in every respect except in that same Nature.
For it is manifest that Instances of this kind remove ambiguity, and
accelerate and strengthen Exclusion, so that a few of them are as
good as many.

For example ; in the inquiry as to the Nature of Colour : prisms,
crystalline gems, which exhibit colours not only in themselves, but
when cast externally on a wall, are Solitary Instances. So also are
dews, £c. For they have nothing in common with the fixed colours
of flowers, coloured gems, metals, wood, &c. except colour itself.
Whence we easily collect that colour itself is nothing but a modifica
tion of the image of incident and refracted Light, arising, in the
former case, from the different degrees of incidence ; in the latter,
from the various textures and structures of the bodies. These
Instances, then, are Solitary as regards resemblance.

Again, in the same investigation, the distinct veins of white and
black in marble, and the variegations of colour in flowers of the same
species, are Solitary Instances; for the white and black of marble,
and the white and purple spots in the flower of the pink, agree in
almost every point except colour itself. Whence we easily gather
that colour has not much to do with the intrinsic Natures of any body,
but merely depends upon the groffer, and, as it were, mechanical
arrangement of the parts. And these Instances are Solitary as
regards difference. Both kinds we usually call Solitary Instances, or
Fcrince, borrowing the term from the astronomers.

xxiii. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the second place,
Migrating Instances. Those, we mean, in which the Nature under
inquiry migrates towards generation, when it has not previously
existed, or else migrates towards corruption when it has previously
existed. And so in either such Instances are always twofold ; or
rather one Instance in motion or transit is carried out to the opposite
extreme. Instances of this kind not only accelerate and strengthen
Exclusion, but also force the Affirmative^ or the Form itself, into a
narrow compass. For the Form of a thing must necessarily be
something that is conferred by Migration of this kind ; or, on the
contrary, removed and destroyed by it. And although every Exclusion
promotes the Affirmative, yet this is more directly the case in the
same subject than in different ones. Now, Form (as is clear from
everything we have said), when it betrays itself in one case, leads
to its discovery in all. And the simpler the Migration, the more
valuable will be the Instance. Besides, Migrating Instances are of
great use in practice ; for when they set forth the Form coupled with
the Efficient or the Privative, they supply a clear direction for practice
in some cases, whence the passage is easy to the cases that come
next. There is, however, in these Instances a danger which requires

NOVUM ORGANUM. 331

caution : viz. lest they should connect the Form too closely with the
Efficient, and so fill the Understanding, or at least tinge it, with a
false opinion concerning the Form, arising from the contemplation of
the Efficient, which is always understood to be nothing more than the
vehicle or bearer of the Form. But for this a remedy is provided, by
means of an Exclusion legitimately carried out.

And we must now give an example of a Migrating Instance* Let
the Nature inquired into be Whiteness. A Migrating Instance to wards
generation is glass, whole and powdered ; and similarly water, at
rest and agitated into foam. For whole glass and plain water are
transparent, not white; whereas powdered glass and water in a state of
foam are white, and not transparent. And so inquiry must be made
as to what has happened to glass or water from this Migration. For
it is clear that the Form of Whiteness is imparted and introduced by
the pounding of the glass, and the agitation of the water. For we
find nothing has been added, except the division of the glass and
water into minute portions, and the introduction of air. And we
have made no small advance towards discovering the Form of White
ness, when we have found that two bodies in themselves transparent,
more or less, (that is to say, air and water, or air and glass), if arranged
together in minute portions, will exhibit Whiteness, by the unequal
refraction of rays of light.

But in this matter we must also give an example of the danger and
caution of which we have spoken. For here, doubtless, it will readily
occur, to an Understanding which has been spoiled by Efficients of
this kind, that air is always required to produce the Form of Whiteness,
or that Whiteness is generated by transparent bodies only : notions
which are altogether incorrect, and disproved by numerous exclu
sions. Whereas it will appear (air and the like being left out of the
question) that bodies which are entirely even (in respect of those
portions of them which affect vision) are transparent ; but that bodies
which are uneven, with a simple texture, are white ; that bodies which
are uneven, with a compound but regular texture, assume all colours
except black ; but that bodies which are uneven, with a compound
but very irregular and confused texture, are black. And so an example
has now been given of a Migrating Instance towards generation in
the required Nature of Whiteness. 'And a Migrating Instance towards
corruption in the same Nature of Whiteness is found in foam, or in
snow in a state of dissolution ; for the water loses its whiteness, and
becomes transparent, on resuming its integral character and parting
with its air.

Nor ought we by any means to overlook the fact that under the
head of Migrating Instances should be comprehended not only those
which migrate towards generation and loss, but those also which
migrate towards increase and decrease, since they also tend to the
discovery of the Form, as is sufficiently clear from the definition of
Form given above, and from the Table of Iifgress. Thus paper —
which while dry is white, but when moistened (by the exclusion of air
and introduction of water) is less white, and approaches nearer to

332 NOVUM ORGANUM.

transparency— follows the same conditions as the Instances men
tioned above.

xxiv. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the third place,
Ostensive Instances, of which we have made mention in the First
Vintage concerning Heat, and which we also call Glaring, or Liberated
and Predominating Instances. They are those which show the Nature
in question in its bare and substantive condition, and also in its
exaltation, or highest degree of power, as being emancipated and
freed from impediments, or at least triumphing over them, and by
virtue of its influence suppressing and coercing them. For since
every body contains in itself many copulate Forms of Natures in the
concrete ; it follows that they severally drive back, depress, break,
and bind one another ; and hence the individual Forms are obscured.
But there are found some subjects in which the required Natures
surpasses others in vigour, either through the absence of impediment,
or the predominance of its own virtue. And Instances of this kind are
the most Ostensive of Form. But in these Instances also we must
be cautious to restrain the impetuosity of the Understanding. For
whatever displays the Form, and seems to intrude it upon the Under
standing, must be looked upon with suspicion, and recourse must be
had to severe and diligent Exclusion.

For example : suppose the Nature inquired into to be Heat. The
aerial heat-glass is an Ostensive Instance of the motion of expansion,
which (as has been said above) is the principal part of the Form of
Heat. For flame, though it manifestly exhibits expansion, yet, owing
to its momentary extinction, does not display the progress of expan
sion. And hot water, owing to the easy transition of water into vapour
and air, does not so satisfactorily display the expansion of water in its
own body. Again, ignited iron, and the like, are so far from display
ing this progress, that, from the repercussion and breaking up of their
spirit by the compactness and density of their parts (which tame and
bridle the expansion), the expansion itself is not at all conspicuous to
the senses. But the heat-glass clearly shows expansion in air, and
that, too, conspicuous, progressive, durable, and not transient.

To take another example : let the Nature inquired into be Weight.
Quicksilver is an Ostensive Instance of Weight. For it surpasses
everything in weight by a very long interval, except gold, and that is
not much heavier. But quicksilver is a better Instance for indicating
the Form of Weight than gold, because gold is solid and consistent,
properties which seem to relate to density ; but quicksilver is fluid,
and charged with spirit, and yet it far exceeds in weight the diamond
and those bodies which are thought to be the most solid. Whence
it is demonstrated that the Form of Weight predominates simply in
quantity of matter, and not in compactness of frame.

xxv. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the fourth place
Clandestine Instances, which we also usually call Twilight Instances.
They are as it were, opposed to Ostensive Instances. For they exhibit
the Nature under investigation in its lowest degree of influence, and, so
to speak, in its cradle and first rudiments, striving to make a sort of

NOVUM ORGAXUM. 333

first trial, but lying hid under a contrary Nature, and subdued by it.
Now Instances of this kind are of very great service for the discovery
of Forms ; because as Ostensire Instances lead easily to Differences,
so Clandestine Instances are the best guides to Genera, i.e. to those
common Natures of which the Natures in question are only limita
tions.

For example : let the Nature inquired into be Consistency, or
Self-limitation, as opposed to Liquidity or Humidity. Clandestine
Instances are those which exhibit some weak and feeble degree of
constituency in a fluid ; as a bubble of water, which is a sort of
consistent and limited pellicle, composed of the substance of water.
In like manner we have droppings, which, if there be any water
present to follow, draw themselves out into a very fine thread, to
preserve the continuity of the water ; but if water be not present in
sufficient abundance to follow, it falls in round drops, that being the
figure which best preserves the water from solution of its continuity.
Hut at the very instant when the thread of water breaks, and the drops
begin to fall, the water itself recoils upwards to avoid solution of its
continuity. Again, in metals, which when melted are liquid, but more
tenacious, the molten drops often fly upwards and so remain. And
something similar is to be found in tl.e Instance of the mirrors made
by children on reeds with spittle, where a consistent pellicle of water
is also seen. But this is displayed much better in that other childish
sport of taking water, made a little more tenacious by means of soap,
and blowing into it through a hollow reed, so as to shape the water
into a sort of castle of bubbles ; for it assumes sufficient consistency,
by the introduction of air, to admit of being projected to some distance
without breach of continuity. I5ut this is seen best of all in froth and
snow, which assume such consistency as almost to bear cutting with
a knife, and yet they are formed or.t of air and water, both of which
are liquid. All which examples clearly suggest that Liquidity and
Consistency are only vulgar notions, and due to the senses; and that,
in fact, there exists in all bodies a tendency to avoid and escape a
breach of continuity ; that in homogeneous bodies (such as liquids) it
is weak and powerless, but in bodies which are composed of hetero
geneous particles it is stronger and more energetic, because the
approach of heterogeneous matter binds bodies together, while the
introduction of homogeneous matter dissolves and relaxes them.

Similarly, let the Nature inquired into be the Attraction or Coition
of bodies. The most remarkable Ostensh-e Instance of its Form is the
Magnet. Now there is a contrary Nature to attraction, vi*. non-
attraction, which exists in a like substance. Thus iron docs not
attract iron, nor lead lead, nor wood wood, nor water water. IJut a
Clandestine Instance is a Magnet armed with iron, or rather the iron
in an armed Magnet. For its Nature is such that an armed Magnet,
at some distance, does not attract iron more powerfully than an un
armed one. I'ut if the iron be brought near enough to touch the iron
in the armed Magnet, then the armed Magnet sustains a far greater
weight of iron than a simple and unarmed one, on account of the

334 NOVUM ORGANUM,

similarity of the substance of iron against iron ; an operation alto
gether Clandestine and latent in the iron before the approach of the
Magnet. And so it is manifest that the Form of Coition is something
which is energetic and powerful in the magnet, but weak and latent in
iron. So it is remarked that small wooden arrows, without any iron
point, when discharged from large mortars, penetrate deeper into
timber (such as the sides of ships, and the like) than the same arrows
pointed with iron, on account of the similarity of the substance of
wood to wood, although this property was previously latent in the
wood. Again, although air does not manifestly attract air, nor water
water, in whole masses ; yet one bubble brought near to another
dissolves it more readily than if the second bubble were away, on
account of the desire of Coition between water and water, and between
air and air. And Clandestine Instances of this kind (which, as we have
said, are of the most signal use) make themselves most conspicuous
in small and subtle portions of bodies, because the greater masses follow
more universal and general Forms, as shall be declared in the proper
place.

xx vi. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the fifth place,
Constitutive Instances, which we also call Manipular. They are those
which constitute one species of the Nature investigated into a sort of
lesser Form. For since the legitimate Forms (which are always
convertible with the Nature investigated) lie deep, and are not easily
discovered ; circumstances and the weakness of the human Under
standing require that particular Forms, which gather Hand/ids of
certain (but not all) Instances into some common notion, be not
neglected, but rather diligently marked. For whatever unites Nature,
though in an imperfect manner, levels the way for the discovery of
Forms. And so Instances which are useful in this respect possess no
contemptible influence, but have some Prerogative.

But in this case caution must be used, lest the human Under
standing, after having discovered several of these particular Forms,
and thereupon partitioned out or divided the Nature under investiga
tion, should rest entirely contented therewith, in place of addressing
itself to the legitimate discovery of the great Form ; and taking for
granted that the Nature is from its roots manifold and divided, reject
with contempt any further union of Nature as a thing unnecessarily
subtle, and verging towards mere abstraction.

For example : let the Nature inquired into be Memory, or that
which excites and aids it. Constitutive Instances are (i) Order or
Distribution, which manifestly assists the memory; also common
places in artificial memory, which may either be Places in the proper
sense of the word, as a door, a corner, a window, and the like ; or
familiar and well-known persons ; or anything we choose (provided
they are arranged in a certain order), as animals, herbs ; also words,
letters, characters, historical personages, &c., though some of these
are more suitable and convenient than others. Common-places of this
kind aid the memory wonderfully, and exalt it far above its natural
powers. Also, verse is retained and learned by heart more easily than

NOVUAf ORGANUM. 335

prose. And from this Handful 'of three Instances, viz. order, common
places for artificial memory, and verse, is constituted one species of
aid to the memory. Now this species may rightly he called the Lulling
away of the Indefinite. For when we strive to remember or to call
anything to mind, if \ve have no previous notion or perception of what
we are seeking, we are sure to seek and labour, and run to and fro
indefinitely. Hut if we have any certain previous notion, the I ndefmite
is immediately cut off, and memory wanders nearer home. Now, in
the three Instances aforesaid, the previous notion is clear and certain.
In the first it must be something agreeing with the order ; in the
second, an image bearing some relation or conformity to those fixed
common-places : in the third, words which fall into the verse. And
so the Indefinite is cut off. (2) Other Instances will give this second
species ; that whatever brings the Understanding close to something
which strikes the senses (which is the method most approved of in
artificial memory) helps the memory. (3) Other Instances will give
this third species ; that those which make an impression by a strong
emotion, as by causing fear, wonder, shame, delight, help the memory.
(4) Other Instances will give this fourth species; that those things
which are chiefly impressed on the mind when it is clear, and not
occupied by anything before or behind it, as what is learned in child
hood, or what we fancy before sleep, and also things happening for the
first time, are best retained in the memory. (5) Other Instances will
give this fifth species ; that a multitude of circumstances to be grasped
as handles help the memory, as wiiting in disjointed paragraphs,
reading or reciting aloud. (6) Lastly, other Instances will give this
sixth species ; that things which are expected, and excite attention,
are retained better than those which fly past us. Thus if you read a
writing through twenty times, you will not learn it by heart as easily
as it you were to rend it ten times, trying between whiles to recite it,
and when memory fails, looking in the book. So that there are, as it
were, six lesser Forms of things which help the memory, viz. the cutting
off the Indefinite; the bringing down of the intellectual to the sensible ;
impression on a strong emotion ; impression on a disengaged mind ;
a multitude of handles ; and anticipation.

To take another example : let the Nature investigated be Taste, or
the act of Tasting. The Instances which follow are Constitutive^ viz.
that those who cannot smell, but are destitute of that sense naturally,
do not perceive, or distinguish by the taste, food that is rancid or
putrid ; nor, in like manner, what is flavoured with garlic, oil of roses,
or the like. Again, those who by accident have their nostrils
obstructed by a descent of rheum, do not discern or perceive anything
putrid or rancid, or sprinkled with rose-water. Again, those who are
affected with rheum of this sort, if they blow their noses strongly when
they have anything foetid or strongly scented in their mouth, or on
their palate, instantly have a clear perception of the rancidity or per
fume. Now these Instances will give and constitute this species, or
rather part of Taste : that the sense of tasting is nothing but an
internal smelling, passing and descending from the upper passages of

336 NOVUM ORGANUM.

the nostrils into the mouth and palate. On the other hand, those in
whom the sense of smell is wanting, or is obstructed, perceive as well
as any one else what is salt, sweet, sharp, acid, rough, bitter, and the
like ; so that it is manifest that the sense of Taste is somehow com
pounded of an internal smell, and a certain exquisite power of touch,
of which this is not now the place to speak.

To take another example : let the Nature investigated be the com
munication of Quality, without commixture of substance. The Instance
of Light will give or constitute one species of communication ; Heat
and the Magnet another. For the communication of light is, as it
were, momentary, and ceases directly the original light is removed.
But heat and magnetic influence, when they have been once trans
mitted to, or rather excited in, a body, abide and remain for a con
siderable time after the departure of the original moving power.

In short, the Prerogative of Constitutive Instances is very great ; for
thev contribute very much both to definitions (especially particular
definitions) and to the division or partition of Natures, about which
it was not ill said by Plato : "That he is to be held as a God, who
knows well how to define and divide."

xxvii. Among Prerogative Instances, we shall put in the sixth place,
Conformable or Proportionate Instances, which we also call Parallels,
or Physical Resemblances. They are those which show likenesses and
conjunctions of things, not in lesser Forms (which is the work of
Constitutive Instances)^ but simply in the concrete. Whence they
form, as it were, the first and lowest steps towards the union of Nature.
Nor do they establish any Axioms immediately from the beginning,
but merely point out and mark a certain agreement of bodies. But
although they are not of much assistance for the discovery of Forms,
nevertheless they are very useful in revealing the fabric of the parts of
the Universe, and in making a sort of anatomy of its members ;
whence they sometimes lead us by the hand to sublime and noble
Axioms ; especially those which have relation to the configuration of
the world, rather than to simple Natures and Forms.

For example ; the following are Conformable Instances : a mirror
and an eye ; likewise the construction of the ear, and places which
give back an echo. From this conformity, besides the actual observa
tion of likeness, which is useful for many purposes, it is easy further
to gather and form this Axiom, viz. that the organs of the senses, and
those bodies which generate reflections to the senses, are of like
Nature. Again, the Understanding, admonished by this, rises without
difficulty to a higher and nobler Axiom, viz. to this, that there is no
difference between the agreement or sympathies of bodies endowed
with sense, and those of inanimate bodies without sense, except that
in the former animal spirit is added to a body duly disposed for it,
while in the latter it is absent. So that there might be as many senses
in animals as there are sympathies in inanimate bodies, if there were
perforations in the animated body to allow the passage of the animal
spirit into a member rightly disposed for it, as into a fit organ. And
again, there may, doubtless, be as many motions in an inanimate

NOVUM ORGANUM. 337

body, where the animal spirit is absent, as there are senses in animated
bodies ; although there must of necessity be many more motions in
inanimate bodies than there are senses in animate, on account of the
paucity of organs of sense. And a very clear example of this appears
in the case of pain ; for while there are many kinds of pain, and
various characteristics of it, in animals, (as there is one pain of
burning, another of intense cold, another of pricking, another of
compression, another of extension, and the like,) still it is most
certain that all these are present, as far as motion is concerned, in
inanimate bodies ; as in wood or stone when burned, or congealed by
frost, punctured, cut, bent, or beaten ; and so of other substances ;
though sensation is not present, on account of the absence of animal
spirit.

Again, Conformable Instances (surprising as it may seem to say so)
are roots and branches of plants. For all vegetable substance swells,
and throws out its parts in all directions, upwards as well as down
wards. Nor is there any other difference between roots and branches
than that the root is buried in the earth, and the branches are exposed
to the air and sun. For if we take a tender and growing branch of a
tree, and bend it down into a lump of earth, it forthwith produces
not a branch, but a root. And, vice versa, if earth be placed over it,
and be so kept down with a stone, or any hard substance, as to restrain
the plant from sprouting upwards, it will send forth branches into the
air downwards.

Again, the gum of trees and many kinds of rock gems are Conform
able Instances. For they are neither of them anything but exudations
and filterings of juices ; in the first case from trees, in the second from
rocks ; whence arises that clearness and brilliancy in each, that is, by
the fine and accurate filtering. Thence it arises also that the hairs
of animals are not so beautiful and of so vivid a colour as the feathers
of very many birds ; because juices do not filter so delicately through
skin as through quills.

Again, the scrotum in male animals and the matrix in females are
Conformable Instances ; so that that structural difference between the
sexes, which seems so remarkable (as far as land animals are con
cerned), seems to be no more than a difference between what is
internal and external ; that is to say, the greater force of heat in the
male sex protrudes the genitals outwards ; whereas, in the female, the
heat is too weak to be able to effect this, whence it happens that they
are contained internally.

Again, the fins of fish and the feet of quadrupeds are Conformable
Instances, as are also the feet and wings of birds ; to which Aristotle
has added the four coils in the motion of serpents ; so that in the
machinery of the Universe the motion of living beings seems, for the
most part, to be effected by sets of four joints or flexions.

Also the teeth of land animals and the beaks of birds are Conform
able Instances ; whence it is clear that in all perfect animals there is a
tendency of a certain hard substance towards the mouth. Also that
is not an absurd likeness and conformity which is remarked to exist

22

333 NOVUM ORGANUM.

between man and an inverted plant. For the head is the root of the
nerves and faculties of animals ; while the seed-bearing parts are
lowest, not taking into account the extremities of the legs and arms.
But in a plant, the root (which answers to the head) is regularly placed
in the lowest position ; and the seeds in the highest.

Lastly ; we must especially impress this precept : indeed we cannot
too frequently remind men that their diligence in investigating and
collecting Natural History must henceforth be entirely changed and
turned into the opposite direction to that which it takes at present.
For hitherto the industry of men has been great, and they have been
very curious in marking the variety of things and in explaining the
exact differences of animals, herbs, and fossils ; most of which are
rather sports of Nature than of any serious use towards the Sciences.
Things of this kind certainly tend to our gratification, and sometimes
even to practical results, but they do little or nothing towards gaining
an insight into Nature. And so our efforts must be entirely directed
towards investigating and observing the resemblances and analogies
of things, both in their entirety and in their parts ; for these are the
things which unite Nature and commence the constitution of the
Sciences.

But, in cases very weighty and urgent, caution must be added, that
those things only be taken for Conformable and Proportionate Instances
which denote (as we have said at the beginning) physical resemblances ;
those, that is, which are real and substantial, lying deep in Nature,
not such as are accidental and apparent, much less such as are
superstitious or curious, which the writers on Natural Magic (arrant
triflers, scarcely fit to be named in such serious matters as those which
we are now handling) are everywhere parading ; describing, with great
vanity and folly, empty similitudes and sympathies of things, and
sometimes even inventing them.

But, leaving these, in the very configuration of the world itself, in its
greater parts, there are Conformable Instances which must not be
neglected ; as Africa, and the region of Peru, with the continent
stretching as far as the Straits of Magellan. For each region has
similar isthmuses and similar promontories, a coincidence which is
not accidental.

Also the New and the Old World are Conformable ; in that both
Worlds are broad and extended towards the North, but narrow and
pointed towards the South.

Again, we find most conspicuous Conformable Instances in the
intense colds of what is called the mid region of the air, and the very
fierce fires which are often found bursting out of subterranean places ;
two occurrences which are most widely and extremely removed ; that
is to say, the extreme of the Nature of Cold towards the expanse
of the sky, and the extreme of the Nature of Heat towards the
bowels of the earth ; by Antiperistasis, or Rejection of a contrary
Nature.

And lastly, the Conformity of Instances in the Axioms of the
Sciences is worthy of remark ; thus the figure in rhetoric called

ORGAKUM. 339

" Surprise " is Conformable to the figure in music called " Declension
of the Cadence." In like manner the Mathematical Postulate,
''Things which are equal to the same are equal to one another," is
Conformable to the construction of the syllogism in Logic which unites
properties agreeing in a middle term. In fine, a certain sagacity in
investigating and tracking Physical Conformities and Resemblances
is of great use in very many cases.

xxviii. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the seventh
place, Singular Instances, which we also call Hctcroclite (borrowing
the term from the grammarians). These are those which exhibit in
the concrete ; bodies which seem to be extravagant and, as it were,
abrupt in Nature, and noways agreeing with other things of the same
kind. Conformable Instances are like each other ; Singular Instances
arc like themselves alone. Now the use of Singular instances is the
same as that of Clandestine Instances, viz. to raise and unite Nature
for the discovery of Genera or Common Natures, which are afterwards
to be limited by true Differences. For we must not desist from inquiry
until the properties and qualities found in such things as these, and
which may be taken for miracles of Nature, are reduced and com
prehended under some fixed Form or Law ; so that all irregularity or
singularity be found to depend on some common Form ; and the
miracle at last turn out to consist only in accurate differences ; in
degree, and in an unusual concurrence, not in the species itself:
whereas, at present, the contemplation of man does not go
further than to set down such things as secrets and great works of
Nature : things, as it were, without cause, and exceptions to general
rules.

Examples of Singular Instances are the sun and moon among
heavenly bodies ; the magnet among stones ; quicksilver among
minerals ; the elephant among quadrupeds ; the sensus Vencris among
the kinds of touch ; the scent of dogs among the kinds of smell.
Moreover, the letter S is held by grammarians to be singular, on
account of the facility with which it enters into composition with con
sonants, sometimes two and sometimes three at a time; which is the
case with no other letter. Now, Instances of this sort should be made
much of, because they sharpen and quicken inquiry, and heal the
Intellect when it has become depraved by habit and the customary
course of things.

xxix. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the eighth place,
Deviating Instances ; errors, that is, of Nature, things which arc vague
and monstrous, wherein Nature declines and deflects from her ordinary
course. For errors of Nature differ from Singular Instances in the
fact that the latter are miracles of species, the former of individuals,
liut their use is nearly the same, for they correct errors arising in the
Understanding from Habit, and reveal common Forms. Nor must
\ve desist from inquiry with regard to them, until the cause of this
declension is discovered. Hut that cause does not properly reach to
any Form, but only to the Latent Process towards Form. For he who
knows the ways of Nature will more easily observe her deviations

340 NOl'VAf ORGANUM,

also ; and again, he who knows her deviations will more accurately
describe her ways.

And they differ from Xittjfufar/HxfaMcYSin this also, that they furnish
much more assistance for practice ami active operation. For to
generate new species would he a very difficult task ; but to vary known
species, and thence to pioduce many things that a IT tare and unusual,
is less difficult. It is easv to pass from miracles of Nature to miracles
of Art. For if Natuie be once caught in the act of variation, and the
cause of il be made clear ; it will be easy to bring Nature by means
of Art to the point whither she wandered by accident. And not only
thither, but elsewhere ; for errors in one direction show and open out
a way to errors and deflections in every direction. Hut here the
abundance of examples renders it unnecessary to produce them. For
there must be made a collection or particular Natural History of all
prodigies and monstrous births of Nature; of everything, in short, that
is new, rare, and unusual in Nature. Hut this must be accompanied
by a most rigid scrutiny, that confidence may be established. Ami
those are most to be suspected which aic connected in any way with
Religion) as the prodigies ol I. ivy ; and no less those which arc found
in writers on Natural Magic or Alchemy, and men of that kind, who
are, as it were, suitors and lovers of fables. Hut these must be
drawn from grave and trustworthy hisloiy, and from true reports.

xxx. Among /V<vv»i,w//Vv ///.\7.///<r.v we shall put in the ninth place,
Limiting ///.v A///I v.v, which we also call l*tirticiMfS. They are those
which exhibit species of bodies that seem to be compounded of two
species, or to be rudimentary between one species and another.
Now these may rightly be counted among Sin<^n/<ir Instances or
llctcnh //A'.v, for they are in the whole range of things rare and
extraordinary ; yet, on account <>l their dignity, they must be treated
and ranked sepaialcly. For tliev are most useful in indicating the
composition ami structure of things, and in suggesting causes for the
number and quality of the ordinary species in the Universe, and in
leading the Understanding liom that which is to that which may be.

As examples of these, we have moss, between putridity ami a plant ;
some comets, between stars and fiery meteors ; (lying fish, between
birds and fishes ; bats, between birds and quadrupeds ; also,

11 .SV ////',/ ,/H,IIII \imilis, //////»////,; l><-.\fi,i, ;/.','/\."
(" lUscst of IKMMS, tin- ;i|u%, liovv apitij; u • ! ")

Hi formed births of animals, mules, ami the like.

xxxi. Among Prerogative ///.vAi//«v.\- we shall put in the tenth place,
///.»•/<///( v.v <>f /'cTc'.v, or <»/'///<• /'</.f<v.v (borrowing the word from the
insignia of empire), which we also call the \\'it or ///<• I hind of „!/<///.
They are the greatest and noblest works, ami, as it were, the master
pieces of each several art. For since it is our principle business to
make Natuie render homage to the alVairs and convenience of man, it
is very suitable that the works which are already in man's power (like
provinces previously occupied and subdued) should be noted and
registered ; especially those which arc most complete and perfect,

NOVUM ORGAKUM. 341

because from them the passage to what is new and hitherto undis
covered is easier and nearer. For if a man, after attentively con
templating those, be willing actively and strenuously to push on his
design ; he will, of a certainty, cither extend them a little further ; or
turn them aside to something in their neighbourhood ; or even apply
and transfer them to some more noble use.

Nor is this the end. For even as the Understanding is raised and
elevated by r.tre and unusual works of Nature to the investigation and
discovery of Forms capable of containing them, so also this is biought
about by the excellent and admitablc works of Art. Nay, this is so
in a much gic.itcr degree, for the method of affecting and bringing
about such miracles of Art is, for the most part, clear ; while in the
miracles of Nature the process is generally obscure. Still very great
caution must be used Jin these same cases not to depress the Under
standing, and, in a manner, fasten it to the ground.

For there i • a danger lest works of Art of this kind, which seem to
be the summits and culminating points of human industry, should so
surprise and fetter, and, as it were, bewitch the Understanding re
specting them, that it should not be able to deal with other things, but
should think that nothing of that kind can be done, except in the
same way in which they have been brought about ; only with the
application of greater diligence and more accurate preparation.

On the contrary, it may be laid down as certain that the ways and
means of effecting results, hitherto discovered and noted, arc, lor the
most part, poor, and that all higher power depends on and is derived
in order from the sources of Forms, no one of which has as yet been
discovered.

And so (as we have said clsewhcie) if a man had been thinking of
machines and battering-rams as they existed among the ancients ;
even if he had done so with diligence, and spent his life in the study,
he would never have lighted on the discovery of cannon, acting by
means of gunpowder. Nor again, if he had concentrated his observa
tion and mediation on the manufactures of wool and cotton, would he
ever by such means have discovered the nature of the silkworm or of
silk.

Therefore it is that all discoveries which can be reckoned among
the noblest of their kind, have, if you look closely, been brought to
light, not by a trifling elaboration and extension ot Arts, but entirely
by chance. Now nothing imitates or anticipates chance (the custom
of which is to act only at long intervals) but the discovery of Forms.

There is no need to adduce particulars of this kind of Instances,
they arc so plentiful ; for the course to be followed is exactly this : to
visit all mechanical and even liberal Arts (as far as they bear upon
results), and to look closely into them ; and then to make a collection
or particular history of great works and masterpieces, and of those
which are most perfect in each, together with the modes of carrying
them into effect or operation.

And yet we do not tie down the diligence which should be used in
suth a collection to those works only which are regarded as the master*

342 NOVUM ORGANUM.

pieces and mysteries of each Art, and which create wonder. For
wonder is the offspring of rarity ; since what is rare, though in kind
it be common enough, begets wonder.

While, on the contrary, things really deserving admiration, on
account of the difference which exists between them and other species,
yet, if they happen to be in familiar use, are observed but carelessly.
Now, the Singular Instances of Art ought to be observed no less than
those of Nature, of which we have before spoken. And just as we
place the sun, the moon, the magnet, and the like (things of most
common occurrence, yet of a Nature almost singular), among the
Singular Instances of Nature ; the same should be done with the
Singular Instances of Art.

E.g., Paper, although a very common thing, is a Singular Instance
of Art. But if you consider it carefully, you will find that artificial
materials are either entirely woven with woof and warp ; such as silk,
wool, flax, linen, and the like ; or else they are congealed from
concrete juices ; as brick, earthenware, glass, enamel, porcelain, and
the like ; which, if well combined, are bright ; if not, they are hard,
indeed, but not bright. But all such things as are made from con
crete juices are brittle, and nowise coherent or tenacious. On the
contrary, paper is a tenacious substance, which may be cut and torn ;
so that it imitates, and almost rivals the skin or membrane of an
animal, or the leaf of a vegetable, and such like productions of Nature.
For it is neither brittle like glass, nor woven like cloth, but fibrous and
without any distinct threads, just like natural materials ; so that
among artificial materials there can scarcely be found anything
similar, but it is quite singular. And certainly among artificial works
those are to be preferred which approach most nearly to the imitation
of Nature, or, on the contrary, effectually control and change her
direction.

Again, among Instances of the Wit and Hand of Man, we must not
utterly despise sleight of hand and juggling tricks. For some of these,
though in practice they be trifling and laughable, may yet be valuable
in suggesting information.

Lastly, matters of superstition and magic (in the common accepta
tion of the word) must not be altogether omitted. For though things
of this kind are buried under an enormous heap of falsehood and
fable ; still we must look into them a little, in case there should be
hidden below some of them some natural operation ; as in fascination,
the strengthening of the imagination, the sympathy of things at a
distance, the transmission of impressions from spirit to spirit, no less
than from body to body, and the like.

xxxii. From what has been already said, it is clear that these five
kinds of Instances of which we have spoken (viz. the Conformable,
Singular, Deviating, and Limiting Instances, and tJie Instances of
Power) ought not to be reserved until some certain Nature be under
inquiry (as should be the case with those other Instances which we set
forth first, and also with many of those to follow) ; but a collection of
them should be at once commenced, as a sort of particular Natural

NOVUAf ORGANUM. 343

History ; because they serve to digest the matters that enter the
Understanding and to correct the depraved complexion of the Under
standing itself, which must of necessity be imbued, infected, and at
length perverted and distorted, by daily and habitual impressions.

Therefore these Instances are to be applied as a preparative, to
correct and purge the Understanding. For whatever withdraws the
Understanding from its accustomed pursuits, smooths and levels
its surface for the reception of the dry and pure light of true notions.

Moreover, Instances of this kind level and prepare the way for the
Operative part ; as we shall show in the proper place, when we come
to discourse of Deduction to Practice.

xxxiii. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the eleventh
place, Accompany ing 9to& Hostile Instances, which we also usually call
Instances of Fi.\ed Propositions. They are those Instances which
exhibit some body, or such like concrete, in which the Nature under
inquiry always follows as an inseparable companion ; or which, on the
other hand, it constantly avoids, and by which it is excluded from
companionship i as a foe and an enemy. For it is out of Instances of
this kind that Fixed and Universal Propositions are formed, either
A fjirmativc or Negative ; in which the subject will be such a body in
the concrete, and the predicate the Nature under inquiry. For
Particular Propositions are in no wayy?.m/; namely, those in which
the Nature under inquiry is found fluctuating and moveable in some
concrete ; that is to say, as accruing or acquired, or, on the other hand,
receding or laid aside. Wherefore Particular Propositions have none
of the higher Prerogatives, except in the case of Migration, of which
we have already spoken. Nevertheless, even these Particular Pro
positions, when compared and collated with Universal Propositions,
are of great use, as will be shown in the proper place. Nor even m
these Universal Propositions do we require an exact or absolute
affirmation or negation ; for it is sufficient for our purpose, even if they
be subject to some singular or rare exception.

Now, the use of Accompanying Instances is to narrow the Affirmative
of the Form. For as in Migrating Instances the Affirmative of the
Form is narrowed in such wise that the Form of the thing must
necessarily be laid down as something which is assumed or destroyed
by the act of Migration, so also, in Accompanying Instances, the
Affirmative of the Form is narrowed in such a way that the Form of
the thing must necessarily be laid down as something which enters
into such a concretion of body, or, on the other hand, is repugnant
to it ; so that he who is well acquainted with the constitution or
structure of such a body, will not be far from bringing to light the
Form of the Nature under inquiry.

For example, let the Nature inquired into be Heat : an Accompany
ing Instance is Flame. For in water, air, stone, metals, and many
other substances, heat is mobile, and can approach and recede ; but
all flame is hot, so that heat always follows on the concretion of
flame. But no Hostile Instance of heat is found among us. For
nothing connected with the bowels of the earth is patent to our

344 NOVUM ORGANUM.

senses, while of those bodies which we do know there is not a single
concretion which is not susceptible of heat.

Again, let the Nature inquired into be Consistency. A Hostile
Instance is Air. For metal may be fluid, and also possess consistency ;
the same is the case with glass ; water also can possess consistency
when it is frozen ; but it is impossible that air can ever possess con
sistency, or put off its fluidity.

But with regard to such Instances of Fixed Propositions there remain
two warnings which are of use for the matter in hand. The first
is, that if a Universal Affirmative or Negative be wanting, that very
thing should be diligently marked as non-existent ; as we have done
concerning heat, where the Universal Negative (as far as regards the
essences which have come to our knowledge) is wanting in the
Nature of things. Similarly, if the Nature inquired into be Eternity
or Incorruptibility, we have here no Universal Affirmative. For
eternity or incorruptibility cannot be predicated of any of those bodies
which are beneath the heavens, and above the interior of the earth.
The other warning is, that to Universal Propositions, Affirmative or
Negative, concerning any concrete, there should be subjoined at the
same time those concretes which seem to approach most nearly to
that which is non-existent ; as in heat, the most gentle and least
scorching flames ; in incorruptibility, gold, which comes nearest it.
For all such indicate the limits of Nature between the existent and the
non-existent ; and help to circumscribe Forms, by hindering them
from spreading and wandering beyond the conditions of matter.

xxxiv. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the twelfth
place, those same Subjunctive Instances concerning which we spoke
in the foregoing Aphorism, which we also call Ultimate or Limiting
Instances. For Instances of this kind are not only useful when sub
joined to fixed propositions, but also by themselves, and in their own
proper Nature ; for they indicate, not obscurely, the true divisions of
Nature and measures of things, and how far Nature may do and
endure in any case ; and then her passage to something else. Such
are, gold in weight, iron in hardness, the whale in size among animals,
the dog in scent, the inflammation of gunpowder in rapid expansion,
and other things of that kind. Nor should those things which are
extreme in the lowest degree be less noticed than those which are
extreme in the highest ; as spirit of wine in weight, silk in softness,
the worms of the skin in size of animal, &c.

xxxv. Among Prerogative Instances we shall place in the thirteenth
place, Instances of Alliance or Union. They are those which mingle
and unite Natures which are thought to be heterogeneous, and as
such are marked and designated by the received divisions.

Now, Instances of Alliance show that the operations and effects
which are set down as peculiar to some one of those heterogeneous
Natures belong also to others ; so that what is supposed to be hete
rogeneous is proved to be such neither really nor essentially, but only
a common Nature modified. And so they are of excellent use in
elevating and raising the Understanding from differences to genera,

NOVUM ORGAXUM. 345

and in removing spectres and false images of things as they occur and
come forth under the disguise of concrete substances.

For example, let the Nature inquired into be Heat. There seems
to be a distribution, apparently quite customary and authentic, which
constitutes Heat into three genera ; viz., heat of heavenly bodies,
heat of animals, and heat of tire; and which makes these kinds of
heat (especially one of them, compared with the other two) in very
essence and species, (or specific Nature,) distinct and altogether
hetcrogenerus ; since both the heat of celestial bodies and that of
animals generate and cherish, while the heat of fire, on the contrary,
corrupts and destroys. Thus, as an Instance of Alliance^ we have the
very common experiment of introducing a v.ne-branch into a room
where there is a constant fire, when the grapes upon it ripen a full
month sooner then they do out of doors ; so that the ripening of fruit,
even when it hangs on the tree, may be brought about by fire, though
this seems to be the peculiar work of the sun. From this beginning,
therefore, the Understanding easily rises, having got rid of the notion
of essential heterogeneity, to the inquiry, what are the differences
really found to exist between the heat of the sun and of fire, from
which it results that their operations are so dissimilar, although they
themselves share in a common Nature.

These differences will be found to be four in number : viz., firstly,
that the heat of the sun, compared with the heat of fire, is far milder
and more gentle in degree ; secondly, that it is (especially as we
receive it through the air) much moister in quality ; thirdly (which is
the principal point), that it is exceedingly unequal, now approaching
and increased, now receding and diminished ; a circumstance \\hicn
contributes very greatly to the generation of bodies. For Aristotle
was right in asserting that the principal cause of the generation and
corruption which takes place here on the surface of the earth is the
obliquity of the sun's course through the zodiac ; whence the heat of
the sun, partly by the vicissitudes of day and night, partly by the
succession of summer and winter, becomes marvellously unequal.
And yet that remarkable man goes on to corrupt and render worthless
what he has rightly discovered. For, like a very judge of Nature, he
(as is his custom), in a most magisterial manner, assigns, as the cause
of generation, the approach of the sun ; as the cause of corruption, his
retreat ; whereas both (the approach, that is to say, of the sun and his
retreat), not respectively, but, as it were, indifferently, supply the
cause for both generation and corruption ; inasmuch as inequality of
heat brings about the generation ami corruption of things, equality
their conservation only. And the fourth difference between the heat
of the sun and of fire is of very great moment, viz., that the sun
insinuates its action throughout long spaces of tune ; while the opera
tions of lire (man's impatience urging them <>n arc accomplished in
shorter periods. But if any one were to set to work diligently to
attemper the heat of fire, and to reduce it to a milder and more
moderate degree (as may easily be done in many ways\ and were then
to sprinkle and intermingle a little moisture, and especially if he were

346 NOVUM ORGANUM.

to imitate the heat of the sun in its inequality ; and lastly, if he would
patiently endure delay (not, indeed, proportioned to the operation of
the sun, but yet greater than that which men usually allow to the
operations of fire), he would easily get rid of that notion of hetero
geneous heat, and would either approach, or else equal, or in some
cases even surpass, the operations of the sun with the heat of fire.
A similar Instance of Alliance is found in the revival of butterflies,
torpid and, as it were, dead with cold, by warming them a little at a
fire ; so that you may easily see that fire possesses the power of vivify
ing animals, as well as that of ripening vegetables. So also that cele
brated invention of Fracastorius, of a pan strongly heated, with which
doctors cover the heads of apoplectic patients in desperate cases,
manifestly expands the animal spirits, compressed and, as it were,
extinguished by the humours and obstructions of the brain, and
excites them to motion, in the same manner as fire acts upon water or
air. Again, eggs are sometimes hatched by the heat of fire, which
is an exact imitation of animal heat ; and there are many other things
of that kind ; so that no one can doubt but that the heat of fire may in
many subjects be modified so as to resemble that of heavenly bodies
and of animals.

In like manner let the Natures inquired into be Motion and Rest.
It seems to be a usual division, and one originating in the deepest
philosophy, that natural bodies either revolve, or move in a straight
line, or else stand still and at rest. For there is either motion with
out limit, or rest in a limit, or progress towards a limit. Now this
perpetual motion of rotation seems peculiar to heavenly bodies ;
station or rest seems to belong to the globe of the earth ; while other
bodies (which they call heavy and light), being placed out of their
natural position, are carried in a straight line toward masses or con
gregations of similar bodies, the light upwards towards the circum
ference of heaven, the heavy downwards towards the earth. But this
is pleasing talk.

Again, one of the lower Comets is an Instance of Alliance; in that,
though far below the heaven, it yet revolves. And Aristotle's fiction,
of a comet being tied to some star, or following close upon it, has long
been exploded ; not only because it is improbable in reason, but on
account of our manifest experience of the discursive and irregular
motion of comets through the various regions of the heavens.

Again, another Instance of Alliance on this subject is the Motion
of Air, which within the tropics (where the circles of revolution are
larger) seems also itself to revolve from east to west.

And again, another Instance would be the Flow and Ebb of the Sea,
provided that the waters themselves are found to be carried by motion
of revolution (however flow and evanescent) from the east to the west ;
so, however, that they be brought back twice a day. Therefore, if
this be the case, it is manifest that that motion of revolution is not
limited to heavenly bodies, but is shared by air and water.

Even the property which light bodies have of tending upwards is
somewhat exceptionable. And in this case a Bubble of Water may

NOVUM ORGANUM. 347

be taken as an Instance of Alliance. For if air be liberated under
water, it ascends rapidly towards the surface of the water, by
that motion of a stroke (as Democritus calls it) by which the
water descending strikes and raises the air upwards ; and not by
any striving or etlbrt of the air itself. And when it is come to the
surface of the water, then the air is restrained from further ascent by
the slight resistance which it meets with in the water's not immediately
allowing itself to be separated, so that the desire of air to rise is very
trifling.

In like manner let the Nature inquired into be Weight. It is clearly
a received division, that dense and solid bodies move towards the
centre of the earth ; rare and subtle ones towards the circumference
of the heavens, as to their proper places. And as regards places
(although in the Schools such things arc of weight), it is quite foolish
and puerile to think that place has any power. So that many philoso
phers are trifling when they say, that, if the earth were perforated,
heavy bodies would stop when they came to the centre. For it would
be certainly a very mighty and efficacious sort of nothing, or mathe
matical point, which could cither affect other things, or for which
other things could feel a desire ; for body is not acted upon but by
body. But this desire of ascending and descending depends either
upon the structure of the body moved, or on its sympathy and agree
ment with some other body. If any body be discovered which is
dense and solid, and which, nevertheless, does not move towards the
earth, this division is nullified. But if Gilbert's opinion be received,
that the earth's magnetic power of attracting heavy bodies does not
extend beyond the orb of its influence (which operates always to a
certain distance and no further), and if this opinion be verified by any
Instance, here will be at length an Instance of Alliance on this subject.
There does not, however, occur at present any certain and manifest
Instance on this point. Nearest it seem to come the waterspouts
which are often met with in voyages across the Atlantic Ocean to
either India. For so great is the visible force and mass of water
suddenly discharged by cataracts of this kind, that it seems as if a
collection of waters had been previously made, and had halted and
remained in those places, and had afterwards been thrown down by
some violent cause, rather than fallen by the natural motion of gravity ;
so that it may be conjectured that a dense and compact corporeal
mass, at a great distance from the earth, would be pensile like the
earth itself, and would not fall, unless thrown down. But of this we
affirm nothing as certain. Meanwhile it will easily appear, from this
and many other cases, how poor we are in Natural History, since,
instead of certain Instances, we are not unfrequently compelled to
bring forward suppositions as examples.

In like manner let the Nature inquired into be Discourse of Reason.
The distinction between human reason and the sagacity of brutes
seems altogether a true one. But yet there are some Instances of
actions exhibited by brutes from which it seems that they also are
able to syllogize after a fashion ; for instance, we recollect to have

348 NOVUM ORGANUM.

heard tell of a crow, which, being nearly dead with thirst during a
great drought, saw some water in the hollow of a tree, and finding the
opening too narrow for it to enter, threw in a number of pebbles, until
the water rose high enough for it to drink, which afterwards passed
into a proverb.

In like manner let the Nature inquired into be Visibility. It seems
to be a perfectly true and safe distinction which is made between
Light, as visible originally, and affording the primary means of seeing,
and Colour, as being visible secondarily, and not to be discerned
without light ; so that it appears to be nothing but an image or modi
fication of Light. And yet, on either side in this case, there appear
to be Instances of Alliance ; as snow in large quantities, and the flame
of sulphur ; in one of which we see Colour primarily giving Light, in
the other, Light verging towards Colour.

xxxvi. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the fourteenth
place, Instances of t lie Cross, the word being borrowed from the Crosses,
which are set up where roads meet, to indicate and mark the different
directions. These we call also Decisive and Judicial, and, in some
cases, Oracular and Commanding Instances. Their method is as fol
lows. When, in the investigation of any Nature, the Understanding
is placed, so to speak, in equilibria, so that it is uncertain to which of
two, or sometimes more Natures, the cause of the Nature investigated
ought to be attributed or assigned, on account of the frequent and
ordinary concurrence of several Natures ; Instances of the Cross show
the union of one of the Natures with the Nature investigated to be
sure and indissoluble, that of the other to be changeable and
separable ; thus the question is decided, and the former Nature is
received as the cause, while the latter is dismissed and rejected. And
so Instances of this kind supply very great light, and are of great
authority ; the course of Interpretation sometimes ending in them,
and being accomplished by them. Sometimes these Instances of the
Cross are discovered by chance among those already noticed ; but
they are for the most part new, and industriously and designedly
sought out and applied, and discovered only by unremitting and
active diligence.

For example, let the Nature inquired into be the Flow and Ebb of
the Sea, which is repeated twice in the day, and occupies six hours in
each advance and retreat, with a certain difference corresponding
with the motion of the moon ; the following is an example of two
ways meeting with respect to this Nature.

This motion must necessarily be caused either by the advance and
retreat of the waters, as water shaken in a basin wets one side and
leaves the other bare ; or by the rising of the waters from the deep,
and their subsidence, after the manner of water which boils and again
subsides. And the question arises, to which of these three causes
should the flow and ebb be assigned? Now, if the first assertion be
admitted, it must happen that when there is flood-tide in the sea on
the one side, there is at the same time an ebb somewhere on the
Other ; to this issue, therefore, the inquiry is brought. But it has

NOVUM ORGAN I'M. 349

been observed by Acosta and others, after diligent inquiry, that on the
coast of Florida, and on the opposite coasts of Spain and Africa, the
flood-tides take place at the same time, and the ebbs likewise take place
at the same time ; not, contrariwise, that when there is a flood on the
coast of Florida, there is an ebb on the coasts of Spain and Africa.
And yet, if we look more carefully, this does not prove the existence
of the elevating, nor disprove that of the progressive motion. For it
may happen that the waters may move in progression, and yet cover
opposite shores of the same channel at the same time ; if we suppose
these waters to be thrust and driven together from another quarter,
as is the case with rivers which flow and ebb on both banks at the
same hours ; and yet that motion is clearly one of progression, the
waters entering the mouths of the rivers from the sea : so, in like
manner, it may happen that waters coming in a great mass from the
Eastern or Indian Ocean are driven together, and thrust into the
channel of the Atlantic Sea, and so flood both sides at one time. We
have, therefore, to inquire whether there be another channel through
which the waters can be retreating and ebbing at the same time ; and
we find the Southern Sea, which certainly is not smaller, if indeed it
be not wider and more extensive than the Atlantic itself, and this is
sufficient for our purpose.

So we have, at length, arrived at an Instance of the Cross on this
subject; and it is this. If we find for certain that when there is a
flood on the opposite shores of Florida and Spain in the Atlantic,
there is also a flood on the shores of 1'eru, and behind China in the
Southern Sea, then indeed this Decisive Instance compels us to
reject the assertion that the flow and ebb of the sea, which is the thing
inquired into, takes place by progressive motion ; for there is no sea
nor place in which the regress or ebb can be going on at the same
time. And this may be most conveniently determined by asking the
inhabitants of Panama and Lima (where the two oceans, the Atlantic
and the Southern, arc separated by a small isthmus), whether the flow
and ebb of the sea takes places on opposite sides of the Isthmus at the
same time, or whether the reverse is the case. Now this decision or
rejection appears to be certain, if we take for granted that the earth is
immovcable ; but if the earth revolves, it may perhaps be the con
sequence of the unequal rotation (in point of speed ami momentum)
of the earth and of the waters of the sea, that the waters arc violently
driven upwards into a heap, which makes the flood ; and then (when
they will endure no more heaping up) they are released in a downward
direction, which makes the ebb. Hut on this head separate inquiry
must be made. Still, even on this supposition, the fact is equally
established that there must be an ebb of the sea going on in some
places at the same time that there is a flood in others.

Similarly, let the Nature inquired into be the latter of the two
motions suggested, viz., the Rising and Subsiding Motion ; if by
chance it happens that (on diligent examination) we reject the former
motion of which we have spoken, viz., the progressive. Then we
shall have three ways meeting about this Nature, after this wise.

350 NOVUM One A NUM.

The motion by which waters rise in flood and sink in ebb, without
any accession of external waters, must of necessity take place in one
of these three ways : either there is a supply of water emanating from
the interior of the earth, and retiring into it again ; or the mass of
water is not augmented, but the same waters are extended (without
receiving any addition to their quantity) ; or rarefied, so as to fill a
larger space and dimension, and contract themselves again ; or there
is no increase either of quantity or of extension, but the same waters
(just as they are in quantity and density) are raised by sympathy with
some magnetic force attracting them from above, and then fall back
again. And so (the two former motions being dismissed) our con
sideration may now be reduced to this point, and we may ask if any
such elevation by sympathy or magnetic force does take pkice. Now,
in the first place, it is manifest that the whole of the water, as it is
disposed in the trench or hollow of the sea, cannot be raised at the
same time, there being nothing to supply its place at the bottom ; so
that, even if there were in water any such desire of rising, it would be
broken and checked by the connection of things, or (as it is commonly
called) the abhorrence of a vacuum. It remains that the waters are
raised on one side, and are thereby diminished and retreat on
another. Again, it will follow of necessity that that magnetic force,
since it cannot act upon the whole, will operate with the greatest
intensity about the middle, so as to raise the water in that part ; and
as that is raised, the sides are necessarily deserted and left bare in
succession.

Thus we have at length arrived at an Instance of the Cross on this
subject. And it is this. If it be found that during the ebb of the sea
the surface of the waters is more arched and round, owing to the rising
of the waters in the middle of the sea and their falling away at the
sides, I mean the shores ; and that during the flood the same surface
is more level and even, owing to the return of the waters to their
former position ; then indeed, on the strength of this Decisive Instance,
the raising by magnetic force may be received ; otherwise it must
be entirely rejected. Now, trial of this might without difficulty be
made in the narrow seas by means of sounding lines ; that is to say,
whether during ebb the sea be not higher or deeper towards the middle
than during floods. It must, however, be noted that, if this be the
case, the waters must (contrary to the common belief) rise during the
ebb and sink during the flood, so as to cover and wash the shores.

In like manner let the Nature inquired into be the Spontaneous
Motion of Rotation, and especially whether the diurnal motion, by
which the sun and stars rise and set to our view, be a real motion of
revolution in the heavenly bodies, or an apparent motion in the
heavenly bodies and a real one in the earth. We shall find, on this
subject, the following Instance of t/.e Cross. If there be found any
motion in the ocean from east to west, however weak and languid ; if
the same motion be found a little brisker in the air, especially within
the tropics, where it is more perceptible, on account of the greater
circles ; if the same motion be found in the lower comets, but now

NOVUM ORGANUM.

grown lively and strong ; if the same motion be found in the planets,
but so disposed and graduated that the nearer the planet is to the
earth the slower is the motion, the farther the planet is distant the
quicker is the motion, and in the starry heavens quickest of all ; —
then, indeed, the diurnal motion must be received as real in the
heavens, and the motion of the earth rejected ; since it will be mani
fest that motion from east to west is entirely cosmical,and by consent
of the universe ; being most rapid in the highest parts of the heavens,
gradually subsiding, and at last ceasing and being extinguished in the
immovable, that is, the earth.

In like manner let the Nature inquired into be that other Motion of
Rotation so celebrated among astronomers, resisting and opposed to
the diurnal motion, viz., from west to east ; which the old astronomers
attribute to the planets and also to the starry heavens, but Copernicus
and his followers to the earth as well ; and let it be asked whether
any such motion be found in Nature, or whether it be not rather a
theory fabricated and assumed for the convenience and abbreviation
of calculation, and to favour that beautiful project of explaining the
motion of the heavenly bodies by means of perfect circles. For this
motion in the higher regions is in no way proved to be true and real,
either by the failure of a planet to return, in its diurnal motion, to the
same point in the starry sphere, or by the ditTcrent polarity of the
zodiac as compared with that of the world ; which two things have
originated the idea of this motion. For the first phenomenon is
admirably accounted for by supposing that one is passed by and out
run by another : the second by the supposition of spiral lines ; so that
the inequality of return and the declination to the tropics may rather
be modifications of the one diurnal motion than motions of resistance,
or about different poles. And most certain it is, if we may reason like,
plain men for awhile (dismissing the fictions of astronomers and the
schools, whose fashion it is unreasonably to do violence to the senses,
and to prefer what is most obscure), that this motion does appear to the
sense such as we have described it ; and we once caused it to be repre
sented by a sort of machine composed of iron wires.

The following may be taken as an Instance of the Cross on the sub
ject. If there be found in any history worthy of credit that there has
been any comet, of either the higher or lower class, which has not re
volved in manifest correspondence (however irregular) with the diurnal
motion, but has rather revolved towards the contrary part of the
heavens, then indeed we must determine thus much, that there is in
Nature some such motion. But if nothing of this kind is found, it
must be regarded as suspicious, and recourse must be had to other
Instances of the Cross on this point.

In like manner let the Nature investigated be Weight or Gravity.
"We have two roads meeting about this Nature, after this fashion.
Heavy and weighty bodies must needs either tend of their own Nature
towards the centre of the earth, by reason of their peculiar structure,
or else they must be attracted by the corporeal mass of the earth itself,
as by a congregation of kindred bodies, and move towards it by

NOVUM ORGANUM.

sympathy. Now, if the latter of these two causes be the right one, it
follows that the nearer heavy bodies approach the earth, the stronger
and more impetuous is their motion towards it ; and the farther they
are from it, the weaker and slower is that motion (as is the case with
magnetic attraction), and that this takes place within certain limits ;
so that if they were removed to such a distance from the earth that
the earth's influence could not act upon them, they would remain sus
pended, like the earth itself, and would not fall at all.

And so we may employ the following Instance of the Cross in this
case. Take a clock worked by means of leaden weights, and another
worked by compression of an iron spring ; adjust them accurately, so
that one may not go faster or slower than the other ; then place the
clock which is moved by the weights upon the tower of a very high
church, and keep the other on the ground ; note carefully whether the
clock placed on the elevation goes more slowly than usual, owing to
the diminished virtue of the weights. Try the same experiment at the
bottom of deep mines, viz., whether a clock of the kind mentioned
does not go faster than usual, on account of the increased value of the
weights. And if the value of the weights is found to be diminished in
the higher and increased in the lower position, we may receive the
attraction of the mass of the earth as the cause of weight.

In like manner let the Nature investigated be the Polarity of the
Iron Needle, when touched with the Magnet. With regard to this
Nature we shall have two roads meeting after this fashion. The touch
of the magnet must either of itself impart a north and south polarity
to the iron, or it must only excite the iron and prepare it, while the
motion itself is communicated by the presence of the earth ; as Gilbert
thinks and takes so much pains to prove. To this conclusion, there
fore, tend the observations which he has collected with such clear
sighted industry ; to wit, that an iron nail, which has lain for some
time in a direction north and south, after a lapse of some time gathers
polarity without the touch of the magnet ; as if the earth itself, which
on account of the distance operates feebly (the surface or outer crust
of the earth being, as he says, destitute of magnetic virtue), were yet
enabled by this long continuance to supply the place of the magnet,
and excite the iron, and then conform and turn it. Again, if iron be
heated to whiteness, and be laid, while cooling, north and south, it
also acquires polarity without the touch of the magnet ; as if the
particles of the iron, set in motion by the ignition, and afterwards re
covering themselves, were at the very moment of extinction more
susceptible, and, so to speak, sensitive of the influence proceeding
from the earth than at other times, and thence became excited. But
these things, although well observed, yet do not prove quite so much
as he asserts.

Now, as an Instance of the Cross on this subject we may take the
following. Take a magnetized globe and mark its poles, and let the
poles of the magnet be arranged east and west, instead of north and
south, and so remain ; then place above it an untouched iron needle,
and let it remain six or seven days. Now the needle (for there is no

h'OVUM ORGANUAf. 353

doubt about this), while it remains above the magnet, will leave the
poles of the world, and turn itself towards the poles of the magnet.
Therefore, as long as it remains there it will point east and west. UiK
if it be found that the needle, when removed from the magnet and
placed on a pivot, immediately places itself north and south, or even
takes that direction by degrees, then the presence of the earth must
be taken as the cause ; but if it points (as before) east and west, or
loses its polaiity, this cause must be regarded as suspicious, and
further inquiry must be made.

In like manner let the Nature inquired into be the Corporeal Sub
stance of the Moon, whether it be rare, consisting of flame or air, as
very many of the old philosophers thought, or solid and dense, as
(Gilbert and many moderns, together with some of the ancients, hold.
The reasons for this latter opinion arc founded principally on the fact
that the moon reflects the rays of the sun ; and there does not seem to
be any reflection of light except from solid bodies.

Therefore the Instances of (he Cross on this subject (if any there be)
will be such as prove that reflection docs take place from a rare body,
such as flame, if it be of sufficient thickness. Certainly one cause of
twilight, amongst others, is the reflection of the rays of the sun from
the higher regions of the air. Also, we sometimes see the rays of the
sun reflected, on fine evenings, from the fringes of dense clouds, with
a splendour equal to, or rather brighter and more glorious than, that
reflected from the body of the moon ; and yet there is no proof that
these clouds have collected into a dense body of water. Also, we see
the dark air behind windows reflect the light of a candle no less than
a dense body would. We should also try the experiment of trans
mitting the rays of the sun through an opening upon any dusky blue
flame. Indeed, the open rays of the sun falling on obscure flames
appear, as it were, to deaden them, and make them seem more like
white smoke than flame. These are what occur to us at present as
Instances of the Cross with regard to this matter, and better may per
haps be found. But we must always observe that reflection from flame
is not to be expected except from a flame of some depth, for otherwise
it verges upon transparency. This, however, must be set down as
certain, that light on an even body is always either taken up and
transmitted, or else reflected.

In like manner let the Nature investigated be the Motion of Missiles,
such as darts, arrows, shells, £c., through the air. This motion the
School (after their usual fashion) explained in a very slovenly manner,
thinking it enough to call it a violent motion, as distinguished from
what they call natural motion ; and to account for the first percussion
or impulse by stating that two bodies cannot occupy the same place,
owing to the impenetrability of matter ; and caring nothing how the
motion progresses subsequently. Now, about this Nature, two ways
meet after this fashion. Either that motion is caused by the air carry
ing on the projected body and collecting behind it, as the stream acts
upon a boat, or the wind upon straws ; or by the parts of the body
itself not being able to sustain the impression, but advancing in sue-

23

354 NOVUM ORGANUM.

cession to relieve themselves from it. The first of these explanations
is received by Fracastorius, and nearly all who have inquired into
motion with any subtlety ; and there is no doubt that the air has some
share in the matter ; but the other motion is undoubtedly the true one,
as is clear from countless experiments. Among others, we may take
as an Instance of the Cross the following : that a thin plate, or rather
stiff wire of iron, or even a reed or pen split in the middle, when
pressed together and bent between the finger and thumb, leaps away.
For it is clear that this cannot be ascribed to the air collecting behind
the body, since the source of motion is in the middle of the plate or
reed, and not in the ends.

In like manner let the Nature investigated be that rapid and potent
Expansion of Gunpowder into Flame, by which such vast masses are
upheaved, so great weights hurled forth, as we see in the case of mines
and mortars. Two ways meet about this Nature after the following
fashion. Either the motion is excited by the mere desire of the body
to dilate when set on fire, or by the superadded desire of the crude
spirit, which flees rapidly from the fire, and bursts violently from its
embrace, as if from a prison. Now, the Schoolmen and common
opinion only busy themselves with the former kind of desire. For
men think that it is a fine piece of philosophy to assert that the flame
is, by its elementary form, endowed with a certain necessity of occu
pying a greater space than the body filled when it was in the form of
powder, and that thence arises that motion. Meanwhile, they do re
mark, that although this is true, if it be granted that flame is generated,
it is still possible that the generation of flame may be impeded by a
mass of matter sufficient to compress and suffocate it, so that the case
is not reduced to the necessity of which they speak. For they say
rightly that there must necessarily be expansion, and that thence
must follow emission or removal of the resisting body, if flame be
generated. But that necessity is entirely avoided if the solid
mass suppress the flame before it be generated. And we see
that flame, especially in its first generation, is soft and gentle,
and requires a hollow space in which to play and make trial of
itself. And so such violence cannot be attributed to flame by itself.
But the truth is, that the generation of such windy flames or, so to
speak, fiery winds, arises from the conflict of two bodies of entirely
opposite natures, — the one very inflammable, which is the peculiar
character of sulphur, the* other dreading flame, as does the crude
spirit which exists in nitre; so that a marvellous conflict takes place,
the sulphur taking fire as quickly as possible (for the third body, the
willow charcoal, does scarcely anything but incorporate the other two,
and combine them advantageously) ; while the spirit of the nitre
bursts quickly forth, and at the same time expands (for it is the pro
perty of air and all crude bodies, and also of water, to expand by
heat), and by this flight and eruption meanwhile fans the flame of the
sulphur on all sides, as if with hidden bellows.

Now, there may be two Instances of the Cross on this subject. The
one, of those bodies which are most inflammable, such as sulphur,

NOVUM ORGANUAf. 355

camphor, nuptha, and the like, with their coin pounds, which catch
fire more quickly and easily than gunpowder, if they be not hardened ;
whence it appears that the desire of catching fire does not bring about
those tremendous effects : the other Instance is that of those which
avoid and dread flame, as all salts. For we sec that if they be cast
into the fire the watery spirit bursts forth with a crackling report before
flame is kindled, which is also the case, in a less degree, with stiff
leaves, the aqueous part escaping before the oily part catches fire.
But it is best seen in quicksilver, which has been well called mineral
water ; for this, without catching fire, by simple eruption and expan
sion almost equals gunpowder in strength ; and it is said to multiply
the strength of gunpowder when mixed with it.

In like manner let the Nature investigated be the transitory Nature
of Flame, and its instantaneous extinction. For it does not appear
that the Nature of Flame has any fixed properties or consistency here
among us, but is generated, as it were, every moment, and extin
guished. For it is manifest in the case of flames, which here continue
and endure, that the duration is not that of the same individual flame,
but that it is made up of a succession of new flames generated in order,
and that the flame does not remain numerically the same, as is easily
seen from the fact that when the food or fuel of the flame is withdrawn
it straightway perishes. Now, two ways meet about this Nature after
this fasliion. The instantaneous Nature arises either from the suspen
sion of the cause which first originated it, as in the case of light,
sounds, and violent motions, as they are called ; or because flame,
though in its own Nature able to remain with us here, suffers violence
and is destroyed by the contrary Natures which surround it.

And so we may take on this subject the following Instance of the
Cross. We see, in the case of great fires, how high the flames ascend ;
for the wider the base of the flame, the higher is its vertex ; and so
it seems that the beginning of the extinction takes place about the
sides, where the flame is compressed and worsted by the air. But
the core of the flame, which the air docs not reach, but which is
surrounded on all sides by the flame, remains numerically the same,
and is not extinguished until it has become gradually narrowed by the
air which surrounds the sides. Thus all flame is pyramidal, broader
at the base about the fuel, and narrow at the top, where the air
opposes it and no fuel is forthcoming. But smoke is narrow at the
base, and expands in rising, becoming like an inverted pyramid ; in
asmuch as the air admits smoke and compresses flame. For let no
one dream that flame is lighted air, since these arc bodies quite
heterogeneous.

But it will be a more accurate Instance of the Cross, and one better
adapted to the purpose, if the thing can be made manifest by means
of bicolourcd flames. Take, for this purpose, a small metal stand,
and fix in it a wax taper lighted ; place it in a basin, and pour round
it a small cjuantity of spirit of wine, so as not to reach the top of the
stand, then set fire to the spirit of wine. The spirit of wine will ex
hibit a bluish, the taper a yellowish flame. Note, therefore, whether

356 NOVUM ORGANUM,

the flame of the taper (which may be distinguished from the flame of
the spirit of wine by its colour ; for flames do not become mingled
immediately, like liquids) remains pyramidal, or rather tends to a
globular shape, when it finds nothing to destroy or compress it. If
the latter is the case, it may be put down as certain that flame remains
numerically the same, as long as it is shut up within another flame,
and does not experience the hostile force of air.

And now we may have done with Instances of the Cross. We have
treated them somewhat diffusely, to the end that men may gradually
learn and accustom themselves to judge of Nature by means of
Instances of the Cross, and light-bearing experiments, instead of by
speculative reasonings.

xxxvii. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the fifteenth
place, Instances of Divorce, which indicate the separation of those
Natures which are of most frequent occurrence. Now they differ
from the Instances subjoined to the Instances of Companionship in
that the latter indicate separations of a Nature from some concrete
with which it is familiarly associated ; while the present Instances
indicate the separation of one Nature from another. They differ also
from the Instances of the Cross, in that they determine nothing, but
only advise us of the separation of one Nature from another. Their
use is to disclose false Forms, and to dissipate vain contemplations
suggested by what meets the sight, thus supplying a sort of ballast to
the Intellect.

For example, let the Natures inquired into be those four Natures
which Telesius will have to be messmates and chamber- fellows,
viz., Heat, Brightness, Rarity, Mobility or Promptness to Motion.
Now we find very many Instances of Divorce among them. For air
is rare and easy of motion, but neither hot nor light ; the moon pos
sesses light without heat ; hot water, heat without light ; the motion
of an iron needle on a pivot is quick and agile, and yet its body is
cold, dense, and opaque ; and many things of the same kind.

In like manner let the Natures inquired into be Corporeal Nature
and Natural Action. For it appears that Natural Action is only found
subsisting in some body. Yet in this case we may possibly find some
Instance of Divorce. There is the magnetic action, by which iron is
drawn to the magnet, heavy bodies to the globe of the earth. \Ve
may also add some other operati< ns which take place at a distance.
For action of this kind both takes pi ice in time, and is measured by
moments, not by mere points of time ; and in place by degrees and
spaces. There is, therefore, some moment of time, and some interval
of space, in which this virtue of action is suspended between those
two bodies which originate the motion. And so the question amounts
to this, whether these bodies, which are the limits of the motion, dis
pose or alter the intermediate bodies, so that, by a succession of actual
contracts, the influence passes from limit to limit, meanwhile subsist
ing in the intermediate body ; or whether there is no such thing here,
except the bodies, the influence, and the distances. And in the case
of optical rays, sounds, heat, and some other things acting at a dis-

XOVUM ORGANUAf.

tnnce, it is probable that the intermediate bodies are disposed and
altered ; the more so because they require a medium qualified to carry
on such operations. Hut that magnetic or combining virtue admits of
media, as it were, without distinction, nor is the virtue impeded in any
kind of medium. And if that influence or action has nothing to do
witli the intermediate body, it follows that there is a natural virtue or
action existing for a certain time and in a certain space without a
body, since it neither exists in limiting nor in intermediate bodies.
Wherefore that magnetic action will be an Instance of Divorce between
Corporeal Nature and Natural Action. To which maybe added, as a
corollary or advantage not to be passed by, that even the philosophy
which is drawn from the senses is not necessarily without a proof of
the existence of essences and substances separate and incorporeal.
For if a natural influence and action, emanating from a body, can
exist for a certain time and in a certain place altogether without a
body, it is probable that it can also emanate originally from an in
corporeal substance. For it seems that corporeal nature is required
no less for sustaining and carrying on natural action than for exciting
or generating it.

xxxviii. There now follow five orders of Instances, which we arc
wont to call by one general name, Instances of tJic I.amf*, or of First
Information. They are those which assist the senses. For since all
interpretation of Nature begins with the senses, and leads from the
perception of the senses, by a straight, regular, and well-constructed
way, to the perceptions of the Understanding, which are true Notions
and Axioms, it necessarily follows that the more copious and exact
the representations or reports of the sense itself, the more easily and
prosperously will everything go on.

Now of these five Instances of the Lamp the first strengthen, enlarge,
and rectify the immediate action of the senses ; the second make that
an object of sense which was not such before; the third indicate the
continued processes or series of those things and motions which arc,
for the most part, unnoticed, except in their end and periods ; the
fourth substitute something for the sense when it completely fails ;
the fifth excite the attention and notice of the sense, and at the same
time limit the subtlety of things. Of these we have now to speak
separately.

xxxix. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the sixteenth
place, Instances of the Door or Gate ; for so we call those which assist
the immediate actions of the sense. Now among the senses sight
holds clearly the first place in providing information ; for this sense,
therefore, we must chiefly seek aid. Now aids to sight appear to
admit of three divisions ; it may either perceive things which arc not
visible, or it may perceive them at a greater distance, or it may per
ceive them more exactly anil distinctly.

Of the first class (omitting spectacles and the like, which avail only
to correct and alleviate the infirmity of ill-constituted vision, and so
give no further information) are the glasses lately invented ; for they
the latent and invisible details of bodies, their hidden structures

358 NOVUM ORGANUM.

and motions, by greatly increasing their apparent size ; by the help of
which the exact figure and outline of body in fleas, flies, and worms,
as well as colours and motions previously invisible, are seen to our
astonishment. Moreover, they say that a straight line drawn with a
pen or pencil appears through such glasses very uneven and crooked ;
the truth being that neither the motion of the hand, although assisted
by a ruler, nor the impression of the ink or colours is really even,
although the inequalities are so minute as not to be discerned without
the aid of such glasses. And men have superadded a sort of super
stitious observance in this matter (as is the case in things new and
wonderful), viz., that glasses of this kind confer honour on the works
of Nature, but dishonour those of Art. But this only means that
natural textures are much more subtle than artificial ones. For this
instrument is only effective for minute objects ; so that if Democritus
had seen such a glass, he would perhaps have jumped for joy, and
have thought that a means had been discovered for detecting the atom
(which he affirmed was altogether invisible). But the incompetency
of such glasses, except for minutiae (and even for them when they exist
in a body of some size)> does away with their utility. For if the inven
tion could be extended to larger bodies, or to the details of larger
bodies, so that the texture of linen cloth might appear like a net, and
if in this manner the hidden details and inequalities of gems, liquids,
urine, blood, wounds, and many other things might be discerned, then,
without doubt, great advantages might be reaped from that invention.

Of the second class are those other glasses, which Galileo has taken
such pains to invent, by the aid of which, as if by means of boats and
vessels, a nearer intercourse with the heavenly bodies can be com
menced and carried on. For hence we learn that the galaxy is a
knot or collection of small stars, entirely separate and distinct from
one another— a fact which the ancients only suspected. Hence it
seems to be shown that the spaces of the planetary orbits, as they are
called, are not entirely devoid of stars ; but that the heavens begin to
fill with stars before we come to the starry sphere itself, although these
are smaller, too small, indeed, to be seen without glasses. By this
means we can see certain smaller stars circling about the planet
Jupiter (whence it may be conjectured that there is more than one
centre of motion among the stars). By this means the inequalities of
light and shade in the moon are more distinctly seen and placed ; so
that a sort of selenography might be made. By this means the spots
in the sun and similar things are discerned ; all indeed noble dis
coveries, so far as we can safely place faith in demonstrations of this
kind. But we regard these things with especial suspicion, because
experiment stops with these few observations ; and many other things,
equally worthy of investigation, are not discovered by the same plan.

Of the third class are rods for measuring land, astrolabes, and the
like, which do not enlarge the sense of vision, but rectify and direct it.
And if there be other Instances which help the remaining senses in
their immediate and individual action, and yet are of such a kind as
to add nothing to the information at present possessed, they make

NOVUM ORGANUAf. 359

not to our present business, and so we have not made mention of
them.

xl. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the seventeenth
place, Summoning instances^ borrowing the term from the courts of
law, because they summon those things to appear which have not
appeared before : we also call them Evoking Instances. They bring
within the reach of the senses things which were previously beyond
them.

Now a thing escapes the senses, either on account of the distance
of the object in space ; or on account of the interruption of the senses
by means of intermediate bodies ; or because the object is not fitted
to make an impression on the senses ; or because it is too deficient in
quantity to strike the senses ; or because there is not sufficient time
for it to act upon the senses ; or because the collision with the object
is too much for the sense to bear ; or because some object had previ
ously filled and taken possession of the sense, so as to leave no room
for a new motion. And these conditions principally apply to vision,
to and secondarily the touch. For these two senses give information
at l«rge, and concerning common objects, whereas the other three
give scarcely any information, except vhat is immediate and concern
ing objects peculiar to them.

1. In the first class, when a thing cannot be discerned, on account
of its distance, it is only brought within reach of the senses by adding
or substituting something else which can provoke and strike the senses
at a greater distance, as in the case of signalling by fires, bells, and
the like.

2. In the second class this reduction to the senses takes place when
things which are obscured by the interposition of bodies, and cannot
conveniently be opened out, are brought within range of the senses
by the aid of something that lies on the surface or comes forth from
the interior. Thus the state of the human body is discerned by the
pulse, the urine, and the like.

3. 4. Hut the reductions to the senses of the third and fourth kind
admit of many applications, and in our inquiry into things should be
sought for on all sides. For example, it is clear that air and spirit, and
things of the kind, which are in their whole substance rare and subtle,
can neither be seen nor touched. Wherefore in the investigation of
bodies of this kind there is especial need of reduction.

So let the Nature inquired into be the Action and Motion of the
Spirit which is enclosed in tangible bodies. For everything which
we have that is tangible conttiins an invisible and intangible
spiiit, which it surrounds and clothes like a garment. Hence that
threefold source, so potent and marvellous, of the process of spirit in
a tangible body. For spirit in tangible matter, when got rid of, causes
the bodies to contract and dry up; when detained, softens and melts
them ; when neither wholly got rid of nor wholly detained, moulds
them, gives them limbs, assimilates, ejects, organizes, and the like.
And all these things are brought within reach of the senses by their
conspicuous effects.

36o NOVUM ORGAXUAf.

For in every tangible inanimate body the enclosed spirit first multi
plies itself, and, as it were, feeds upon those tangible parts which are
most adapted and prepared for so doing ; it digests, elaborates, and
changes them into spirit, and then they escape together. And this
elaboration and multiplication of spirit is brought within reach of the
senses by diminution of weight. For in all dessication something is
lost in quantity : this is the case not only with the spirit previously
existing in the body, but also with the body itself, which before was
tangible, and has lately been changed ; for spirit is without weight.
Now the egress or emission of the spirit is brought within reach of the
senses in the rust of metals and other putrefactions of the kind, which
stop before they come to the rudiments of life ; for these belong to the
third kind of process. For in the more compact bodies the spirit, not
finding any pores and passages by which to escape, is compelled to pro
trude and drive before it the tangible parts themselves, so that theygo
out with it, and thence comes rust and the like. And the contraction
of the tangible parts, after some of the spirit has been sent out (whence
follows that dessication which we spoke of), is brought within reach of
the senses both by the increased hardness of the body, and still more
by the rents, contractions, corrugations, and complications of the
bodies which thence follow. For the parts of wood lly apart and are
contracted, skins are corrugated, and not only so, but (if there be a
sudden emission of the spirit by the heat of fire) the contraction is
so rapid as to curl and roll them up.

But on the other hand, when the spirit is detained, and yet is expanded
and excited by heat or something analogous (as is the case in the more
solid or tenacious bodies), then the bodies are soft, as iron while hot ;
they become fluid, as the metals ; they become liquid, as the gums,
wax, and the like. Thus the contrary operations of heat (viz. the
hardening by it of some substances, the dissolving of others) are easily
reconciled ; inasmuch as in the former the spirit is emitted, in the latter
it is agitated and detained : whereof the melting is the peculiar action
of the heat and spirit ; the hardening is the action of the tangible parts
only, occasioned by the emission of the spirit.

But when the spirit is neither detained altogether nor emitted
altogether, but only makes trial and experiment within its own bounds,
and finds the tangible parts obedient and disposed to follow it, so that,
whither the spirit goes, thither they follow with it ; then succeeds the
formation of an organic body, the production of limbs, and the other
vital actions which take place in vegetables as well as animals. And
these things are best brought within reach of the senses by diligently
remarking the first beginnings and rudiments or attempts of life in
animalcukTegenerated from putrefaction ; as in the eggs of ants, worms,
flies, frogs after rain, &c. But the production of life demands both
mildness in the heat and pliancy in the body, so that the spirit may
neither burst forth through over haste, nor be restrained by the
obstinacy of the parts, but may rather be able to mould and fashion
them after the manner of wax.

Again, that most noble distinction of spirit, which has so many

KOVUM O KG A NUM.

relations (viz. of spirit cut off, spirit simply branching, spirit at once
branching and cellulate ; of which the first is the spirit of all inani
mate bodies, the second that of vegetables, the third that of animals),
is placed before the eyes by multiplied Instances of reduction.

In like manner it is clear that the more subtle textures and structures
of things (visible and tangible, it may be, in the whole body) are neither
seen nor touched. Wherefore in these cases also our information is
advanced by reduction to the senses. But the most radical and
primary distinction of structures is found in the abundance or scanti
ness of mateiial, which fills the same space or dimensions. For other
structures (which refer to the dissimilarity of parts contained in the
same body, and to their collocations and postures), when compared
with the former, are but secondary.

Let, therefore, the Nature inquired into be the respective Expansion
or Coition of Matter in bodies ; viz., the proportion of matter to space
of each. For there is nothing truer in Nature than the twin proposi
tions, " Nothing is made from nothing," and, "Nothing is reduced to
nothing," but that the actual quantity or sum total of matter is constant,
without increase of diminution. Nor is it less true, "That of that
quantity of matter, the spaces or dimensions being the same, more or
less is contained according to the diversity of bodies," as in water
more, in air less ; so that to assert that a given volume of water
can be changed into a given volume of air is the same as to say that
something can be reduced to nothing. On the other hand, to assert
that a given volume of air can be changed into an equal volume of
water is the i-ame as to say that something can be made out of
nothing. And it is from this abundance and scarcity of matter that
the notions of density and rarity, so variously and promiscuously
entertained, are properly abstracted. \Yc must also assume a third
proposition, which is also sufficiently certain, '' That this greater or
less quantity of matter, existing in various bodies, can, by comparison,
be reduced to calculation, and to exact, or nearly exact, proportions."
Thus it would not be wrong to say that there would be in a given
volume of gold such an accumulation of matter, that spirit of wine, to
provide an equal quantity of matter, would need twenty one times the
space filled by the golJ.

Now the accumulation of matter and its ratios are brought within
reach of the senses by means of Weight. For weight answers to
the quantity of matter in the parts of a tangible body ; but the spirit
and its quantity of matter do not admit of computation by weight, for
it rather lessens weight than increases it. But we have made a
sufficiently accurate table on this subject, in which we have set down
the weights and volumes of individual metals, the principal stones,
woods, liquids, oils, and very many other bodies, natural and artificial ;
a thing of use in many ways, as well for the light of information as for
a guide in operation, and one which reveals many things altogether
beyond our expectation. Nor is it to be thought a trifle that it
demonstrates that all the variety which is found in the tangible bodies
known to us (we mean such bodies as arc well compacted, and not

362 NOVUM ORGANUM.

such as are quite spongy, hollow, and in great 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 of which it is our business principally to deal.

We have also thought it worth while to try whether it is possible to
find the ratios borne by non-tangible or pneumatic bodies to tangible
ones. This we have attempted by the aid of the following contrivance.
We took a glass phial, capable of containing about an ounce, using a
vessel of small size, that the subsequent evaporation might be pro
duced by a smaller expenditure of heat. This phial we filled nearly
to the neck with spirit of wine ; choosing spirit of wine because, by the
above-mentioned table, we observed that it was the rarest of those
tangible bodies which arc compact and not hollow, and that it con
tained the least matter for the space it filled. Then" we noted carefully
the weight of the spirit with the phial. Afterwards we took a bladder,
holding about two pints ; from it we pressed out all the air possible, until
both sides of the bladder met. We first rubbed the bladder over gently
with oil, to make it air-tight, the oil stopping up whatever pores it had.
We next tied the bladder tightly about the mouth of the phial, with a
thread waxed to make it stick better and bind more closely, the mouth
of the phial fitting inside that of the bladder. We then placed the
phial over burning coals in a fireplace. After a while, the vapour or
breath of the spirit of wine expanded, and became changed into
vapour by the heat, gradually inflating the bladder, and dilating it in
all directions like a sail. As soon as this took place, we removed the
glass from the fire, and placed it on a carpet, that it might not crack
with the cold ; and at once made a hole in the top of the bladder, to
prevent the vapour from returning into liquid on the cessation of the
heat, and so confusing our calculations. We then removed the
bladder itself, and again took the weight of the spirit of wine which
remained. Thence we computed how much had been consumed in
producing vapour or air, and comparing the space which the body had
filled when it was in the state of spirit of wine in the phial with that
which it occupied after it had become pneumatic in the bladder, we
ascertained the ratios ; from which it was quite clear that the body so
turned and changed had expanded into a bulk an hundred times greater
than it had filled before.

In like manner let the Nature inquired into be Heat or Cold, so weak
in degree as not to be perceptible to the senses. These are brought
within reach of the senses by a heat-glass, such as we have described
above. For heat and cold are not themselves perceptible to the touch ;
but heat expands air, cold contracts it. Nor again is that expansion
and contraction of the air perceptible to the sight, but the expansion
of the air depresses the water ; its contraction elevates it, and so, at
last, is brought under the cognisance of the sight ; not before, nor
otherwise.

In like manner let the Nature inquired into be the Mixture of
Bodies, viz. what of water, oil, spirit, ashes, salts, and the like, they
contain ; or, as a particular Instance, how much butter, curd, serum,
and the like, there is in milk, These mixtures are brought within

NOVUM ORGAXUM. 363

reach of the senses, as far as regards what is tangible, by means of
artificial and skilful separations. But the Nature of the spirit in them,
though not immediately perceived, is >et discovered by the various
motions and struggles of the tangible bodies in the very act and process
of their separation, and also by the acridities, corrosions, the different
colours, odours, and tastes of the same bodies after separation. And
in this department men have laboured hard with distillations and
artificial separations, but with no greater success than in the other
experiments hitherto in use : for they have been groping altogether in
the dark, following blind paths, and working with far more zeal than
intelligence ; and (what is the worst) they have not imitated or
emulated Nature, but have destroyed (by the use of violent heats, or
too powerful influences) all the more subtle structure, in which the
hidden virtues and sympathies of things have their principal seat. Nor
do men usually remember or observe, in preparations of this kind,
that other fact which we have elsewhere pointed out ; which is, that
during the trial of bodies, both by fire and other methods, very many
qualities arc implanted in them by the fire itself, and by those bodies
which are introduced to promote the separation, which were not
previously in the compound ; and hence have arisen strange fallacies.
For it is not true that all the vapour, which is given off from water
under the influence of fire, was previously existing as vapour or a'r
in the body of the water : it is caused principally by the dilation of
the water from the heat of fire.

In like manner, generally speaking, all the exquisite tests of bodies,
whether natural or artificial, by which what is real is distinguished
from what is adulterated, what is better from what is worse, should be
referred to this head, for they bring within the reach of the sense what
was previously beyond it. They must therefore be collected from all
sides with diligent care.

5. As regards the fifth way in which objects escape the senses, it is
clear that the action of sense is carried on in motion, and motion in
time. If, therefore, the motion of any body is either so slow, or so
quick, as to bear no proportion to the minute portion of time in which
the action of the sense is carried on, the object is not perceived at all,
as in the motion of the hand of a clock, and again in the motion of a
musket-ball. And motion which is too slow to be perceptible is easily
and ordinarily brought within reach of the sense by summing it ;
while motion which is too quick has not yet been fairly measured ; and
yet the inquiry into Nature demands that this be done in some cases.

6. The sixth kind, in which the senses are hindered by the nobility
of the object, admits of reduction, cither by increasing the distance
between the object and the sense ; by deadening it by the interposition
of such a medium as will weaken without annihilating it ; or by
admitting and receiving the reflection of the object, where the direct
impression is too strong, as that of the sun in a basin of water.

7. The seventh kind is where the sense is so burdened with one
object as to leave no room for the admission of a new one. This is
chiefly the case with the sense of smell, and with odours ; and has

364 NOVUM ORGANUM.

little to do with the subject before us. And so we have now said
enough concerning the bringing within the reach of the senses objects
previously beyond them.

Sometimes, however, the reduction is not made to the senses of man,
but to that of some other animal, whose sense in some points excels
that of man : as of certain scents to the sense of a dog ; of the light
which is latent in air, when not illuminated from without, to the sense
of a cat, owl, and other animals which see by night. For Telesius
was right in remarking that there is in the air itself a certain original
light, though faint and rare, and for the most part useless to the eyes
of man and most animals : since those animals to whose sense this
light is adapted see by night, which it can scarcely be believed they do
without light, or by a light within them.

It should also be observed that we are here treating of the short
comings of the senses, and their remedies. For the fallacies of the
senses must be referred to the particular inquiries concerning sense,
and the objects of sense ; excepting that great fallacy of the senses,
whereby they draw the lines of things with reference to man, and not
with reference to the universe ; and this is not to be corrected except
by reason and a universal philosophy.

xli. Among Prerogative Instances I shall put in the eighteenth
place, Instances of the Road, which we are wont to call also Travelling
Instances, and Articulate Instances. They are those which indicate
the motions of Nature in their gradual progression. Now this kind
of instances escapes the observation rather than the sense. For men
are marvellously careless about this matter. They contemplate
Nature desultorily and at intervals, and when bodies are finished and
completed, and not when she is at work upon them. Yet if any one
wished to examine and contemplate the contrivances and industry of
an artificer, he would not care to see merely the rude materials of the
art, and then the perfect work, but would wish to be present when the
artificer is at his labours, and carrying forward his work. And some
thing similar ought to be done with regard to Nature. If any one
inquires into the vegetation of plants, he must begin from the very
sowing of the seed, and see (as he may easily do by taking up day by
day seeds that have been lying in the ground two, three, four days,
and so on, and carefully inspecting them) how and when the seed
begins to enlarge and swell, and, as it were, to be filled with spirit ;
next, how it bursts the rind, and sends forth fibres, slightly raising
itself up in the meanwhile, unless the earth be very stubborn ; how
also it sends out thin fibres, some as roots downwards, some for stems
upwards, sometimes also creeping sideways, if it finds the earth on
that side open and more easy of access ; and many other things of
the kind. We should do the same with the hatching of eggs, in
which case we shall find it easy to watch the process of vivification
and organization, and see what parts are produced from the yolk, and
what from the white of the egg, and other things. There should be a
similar method with regard to the production of animals from putre
faction. For it would be inhuman to prosecute this inquiry upon

NOVUM ORGANUM. 365

perfect terrestrial animals, by cutting out the fcetus from the womb ;
except as we may take advantage of abortions, animals killed in
hunting, and the like. There should, therefore, be kept up a sort of
strict vigil over Nature, as being more easily observed by night than
by day. For these contemplations may be considered as night-
watches, on account of the smallness ol our light nnd its continual
employment.

And the same should be tried in the case of inanimate things, as
we have done ourselves in inquiring into the expansion of liquids by
fire. For there is one mode of expansion in water, another in wine,
another in vinegar, another in verjuice, and quite another in milk and
oil ; as it was easy to see by boiling them over a gentle fire, and in a
glass vessel, in which the whole actions might be clearly distinguished.
But we touch lightly on these things, intending to discourse upon
them more fully and exactly when we come to the discovery of the
Latent Process of things. For it must always be borne in mind that
in this place we are not treating of things themselves, but merely
adducing examples.

xlii. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the nineteenth
place, Supplementary or Instances of Substitution, which we also call
Instances of Refuge. They are those which supply information where
the sense is entirely at fault, and in which we therefore take refuge
when appropriate Instances cannot be had. Now this substitution
takes place in two ways, either by gradation or by analogy. For
example : there is no medium discovered which can entirely prevent
the magnet from attracting iron. Gold when interposed does not do
so, nor yet silver, stone, glass, wood, water, oil, cloth, or fibrous bodies,
air, flame, £c. Hut yet by accurate tests some medium may perhaps
be found to deaden its virtue more than anything else, that is to say,
comparatively and in some degree; thus it may be found that the
magnet does not attract iron through a thick lump of gold as well as
through an equal space of air, or through a mass of ignited silver as
well as through a mass of equal size when cold, and so in other cases.
For we have not made trial of these things ourselves, but it is
sufficient to propose it by way of example. In like manner no body
is found with us which is not susceptible of heat when brought near
the fire. And yet air contracts heat far more quickly than stone.
And such is the substitution which takes place by degrees.

Substitution by analogy is unquestionably useful, but it is less sure,
and must therefore be applied with some discretion. It is used when
things not perceptible to the sense are brought within its reach, not
by perceptible operations of the imperceptible body itself, but by the
contemplation of some cognate body which is perceptible. For
example, let inquiry be made concerning the Mixture of Spirits,
which are invisible bodies. There seems to be a certain relationship
between bodies and what serves as their food or aliment. Now the
food of flame seems to be oil and fatty matters ; of air, water and
watery matters ; for flame multiplies itself over the exhalation of oil,
and air over the vapours of water. We must therefore look to the

366 NOVUM ORGAN VM.

mixture of water and oil, which manifests itself to the sense, since
the mixture of air and flame escapes the sense. But oil and water,
which are very imperfectly mingled together by composition and agi
tation, are yet exactly and delicately mingled in herbs, blood, and the
parts of animals. And so something similar may possibly take place
in the mixture of flame and air in spirituous bodies, which, though they
do not really undergo mixture by simple juxtaposition, yet appear to be
mingled in the spirits of plants and animals, especially as all animate
spirit feeds upon both kinds of moisture, viz. the watery and the fatty,
as its proper aliment.

In like manner, if the inquiry be not into the more perfect Mixtures
of Spiritual Bodies, but only into their composition— viz. whether
they are easily incorporated one with another, or whether there be
not rather, for example, some winds and exhalations, or other spiritual
bodies, which are not mixed with common air, but only stand and
float in it in globules and drops ; and are rather broken and crushed
by the air, than taken into and incorporated with it ; this cannot
become perceptible to the sense in the case of common air, and other
spirituous bodies, on account of their subtlety ; yet we may see a
certain image of the way in which the thing takes place from the
example afforded by such liquids as quicksilver, oil, and water; and
also of air and its division, when it is dispersed and rises in little
globules through water; also in thick smoke; and lastly in dust,
raised and remaining in the air; in all of which cases there is no
incorporation. And the representation which we have set forth on
the subject is not a bad one, if inquiry be first diligently made,
whether there can be such a difference of character among spiritual
bodies as is found among liquids, for then these representations by
analogy may be conveniently substituted.

And for that we said that information could be drawn from these
Supplementary Instances by way of refuge, when proper Instances
are wanting ; we wish it nevertheless to be understood, that they are
of great value, even when the proper Instances are within reach — for
the purpose, we mean, of corroborating the information which the
others supply. But of these we shall speak more exactly when we
come to that part of our discourse which treats of the supports of
Induction.

xliii. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the twentieth
place, Dissecting Instances, which we call also Plucking Instances, but
for a different reason. We call them Plucking because they pluck
the Understanding, Dissecting, because they dissect Nature, whence
we also sometimes call them Instances of Democritus. They are
those which remind the Understanding of the admirable and exquisite
subtlety of Nature, so as to rouse and awaken it to attention, observa
tion, and due investigation. For example, that a little drop of ink
spreads over so many letters or lines ; that silver, gilded on the
outside only, may be drawn out into so great a length of gilded wire ;
that a little worm, such as is found in the skin, has in it at once spirit
and a structure comprising different parts ; that a little saffron tinges

NOVUAf ORGANUM. 367

a cask of water with its colour; that a little civet or aiomaiic scent
imparts its odour to a far greater volume of air; that a little incense
raises so great a cloud of smoke; that such minute differences of
sound as articulate words are carried every way through the air, and
penetrate through the openings and pores even of wood and water
(though with considerable diminution), nay, are even echoed back,
and that so distinctly and speedily ; that light and colour pass
through the solid bodies of glass and water to ever so great an extent,
and so quickly, and with so exquisite a variety of images, and are
even refracted and reflected, that the magnet acts through bodies of
all kinds, even the most compact ; and, what is more wonderful, that
in all these cases, in an indifferent medium, such as air, the action of
one docs not greatly impede action of another; that is to say, that at
the tame time there are carried through spaces of air so many images
of visible objects, so many percussions of articulate sound, so many
individual odours, as of the violet and the rose, also heat and cold,
and magnetic influences; all (I say) at the same time, no one inter
fering with the other, as if they had each its own peculiar and
separate road and passage, and none ever touched or ran against
another.

\Ve find it expedient, however, to subjoin to these Dissecting
Instances, Instances which we call Limits of Dissection. Thus, in the
cases we have mentioned, one action does not disturb or impede
another of a different kind, but one instance does subdue and
extinguish another of the same kind, as the light of the sun the light
of a glowworm, the sound of cannon the voice, a strong odour one
which is more delicate, a fierce heat one of less intensity, plates of
iron, placed between the magnet and another piece of iron, the
influence of the magnet. Hut of these things also the proper place
will be among the helps of Induction.

xliv. We have now spoken concerning the Instances which aid
the sense, which are chiefly useful for the Informative Part. For
information begins with sense. But our whole work ends in Practice;
and as information is the beginning, so practice is the end of the
matter. The Instances which follow, therefore, arc chiefly of use for
the Operative Part. They are of two kinds, and are seven in number,
all of which we call by the general name of Practical Instances. In
the Operative Part there are two defects, and two kinds of serviceable
Instances. Practice either deceives or overburdens u? with work. It
deceives chiefly after diligent inquiry into Nature by its inaccurate
determination and measurement of the forces and actions of bodies.
Now forces and actions of bodies are circumscribed and measured,
cither by distance of space, or by the elements of time, or by union of
quantity, or by predominance of influence; and unless these four
things be honestly and diligently weighed, our Sciences will be fair
perhaps in theory, but sluggish in operation. Now the four Instances
which relate to this question we call by the general name of Mathe
matical Instances and Instances of Measurement.

And Practice becomes burdensome either through the admixture of

368 KOVUM ORGAN UAf.

useless things, or through the multiplication of instruments, or through
the mass of materials and of bodies which happen to be required lor
any work. Those Instances ought, therefore, to be valued which
either direct practice to those points which most concern mankind, or
which economize instruments and material. Now the three Instances
which refer to this question we call by the general name si Propitious
or Benevolent Instances. Of each of these seven Instances we shall
now speak separately, and with them conclude that part of our work
which relates to the Prerogatives or Ranks of Instances.

xlv. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the twenty-first
place, Instances of ike Rod, or of the Radius, which we also call
Instances of Carrying through or Non ultra. For the virtues and
motions of things operate and take effect in spaces, not indefinite or
accidental, but finite and certain ; so that to find and mark these in
the investigation of individual Natures is of the greatest importance to
practice, not only to prevent errors, but also to render it more exten
sive and influential. For we are sometimes allowed to extend these
virtues, and, as it were, to diminish their distances, as in the case of
telescopes.

And most virtues operate and affect by manifest contact alone, as
is the case in the impact of two bodies, where the one does not remove
the other unless the impinging body touches the other. Again,
medicines which are applied externally, as unguents, and plasters, do
not exercise their virtues without touching the body. Lastly, the
objects of the senses of taste and touch do not strike the organs unless
they are contiguous to them.

There are also other virtues which operate at a distance, though a
very small one, and of these but a few have hitherto been observed ;
they are, however, more than men suspect : as (to take examples
from well-known things) when amber and jet attract straws ; one
bubble brought near another breaks it ; some purgative medicines
draw humours downwards, and the like. But that magnetic virtue
which brings together iron and the magnet, or two magnets, operates
within a fixed but small circle ; while, on the other hand, if there be
any magnetic virtue flowing from the earth (a little below the surface),
and affecting the steel needle in its polarity, it must operate at a
great distance.

Again, if there beany magnetic force which operates by sympathy
between the globe of the earth and heavy bodies ; or between the
globe of the moon and the waters of the sea (which appears highly
probable, from the fact of the Spring and Neap tides happening twice
a month) ; or between the starry heavens and the planets, by which
they are attracted and raised to their apogees ; all these must operate
at very great distances. Certain materials are also found which
inflame, or catch fire, at considerable distances, as Babylonian naptha
is said to do. Heat also insinuates itself at great distances, as also
does cold ; so that the inhabitants of Canada feel at a great distance
the cold given off by the mounds or masses of ice which breaking
loose and floating about the Northern Oc^nn, are carried over the

NOVUM ORGANUM. 369

Atlantic to their shores. Odours also (though in these there always
seems to be a certain corporeal discharge) operate at remarkable
distances ; as men often find who sail near the coast of Florida, or
some parts of Spain, where there are whole forests of lemon and
orange trees, and other odoriferous plants, or shrubs of rosemary,
marjoram, and the like. Lastly, the radiations of light, and impres
sions of sound, operate at vast distances.

Uut all these powers, whether the distance at which they operate be
small or great, act certainly at distances finite and known to Nature,
so that there is a certain limit which is never exceeded, and that pro
portioned either to the mass or quantity of matter in the bodies, or to
the strength or weakness of the virtues, or to the favourable or hostile
disposition of the media ; all which conditions should be reckoned
and noted down. Moreover the measures of violent motions, as they
call them, as of missiles, projectiles, wheels, and the like, should be
observed, since these also have clearly their own fixed limits.

There arc found also certain motions and influences of a contrary
nature to those which operate by contact and not at a distance ; those,
we mean, which operate at a distance, and not by contact ; and again,
those which operate more slackly at a less distance, and more strongly
at a greater. Vision, for instance, does not succeed well in contact,
but requires a medium and a certain distance. Yet I remember to
have heard from a person worthy of credit, that he himself, while
undergoing the operation for the cure of the cataract (which was
performed by introducing a small silver needle within the first coat
of the eye, to remove the pellicle of the cataract, and push it into a
corner), most clearly saw the needle moving over the pupil. But
though this may be true, it is clear that large bodies are not well or
distinctly seen, except at the vertex of the cone, where the rays from
the object converge at some distance from tiie eye. Moreover the
eyes of aged people see objects better when at a distance than when
nearer. And in the case of missiles, it is certain that the percussion
is not so violent at a very short distance as it is a little further off.
These, therefore, and the like points should be observed in the
measurement of motions with icference to distances.

There is also another kind of measurement of motion in space which
must not be passed by. It deals with motions which are not progressive
but spherical, that is, with the expansion of bodies into a larger sphere
or their contraction into a lesser. For in measuring this kind of
motion, we must inquire how far the bodies will endure compression
or extension (according to their Nature) easily and readily, and at
what limit they begin* to resist, so that at last they come to a limit
beyond which they will bear no more ; as when an inflated bladder
is squeezed it allows a certain comptession of the air, but, if this be
carried too far the air does not endure it, and the bladder bursts.

Hut we proved this more exactly by a more delicate experiment. \Vc
took a small bell of metal, light and thin, such as is used to contain
salt, and plunged it into a basin of water, so that it carried down with
it to the bottoiii of the basin the air contained in its cavity, We had

24

370 NOVUM ORGANUM.

previously placed at the bottom a small globe, on which the bell was
to be set. By this means we discovered that if the globe was small
(in proportion to the cavity) the air retired into a smaller space, and
was pressed together without being thrust out : but if the globe was
too large for the air to yield readily, then the air, impatient of the
increased pressure, raised the bell on one side, and began to ascend
in bubbles.

Again, to test the degree of extension (as well as of compression)
which the air would endure, we made use of the following means. We
took an egg of glass, with a small hole at one end ; we exhausted the
air by violent suction, and immediately closed the opening with our
finger ; we then plunged the egg into water, and lastly removed our
finger. The air being constrained by the suction, and being expanded
beyond its natural limits, and so struggling 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 noise), now drew in water in
sufficient quantities to allow the air to recover its former volume or
dimensions. Now it is certain that rare bodies, like air, will undergo
a visible amount of contraction, as has been said ; but tangible bodies,
such as water, admit compression much more impatiently, and to a
less degree. How much they do admit we have investigated in the
following experiment.

We caused to be made a hollow globe of lead, containing about two
wine pints, and sufficiently thick at the sides to support considerable
pressure. We poured water into it through a hole which we had
made in it ; and when the globe was filled, we stopped up the hole
with melted lead, so that the whole became quite solid. We then
flattened the globe on two opposite sides with a heavy hammer, thus
forcing the water into a smaller space, the sphere being the figure of
greatest capacity. And when the hammering ceased to take effect,
through the resistance offered by the water to further contraction, we
employed a mill or press ; untill at last the water, impatient of further
pressure, exuded through the solid lead in the shape of a fine dew.
We afterwards computed the space lost by the compression, and
understood that the water had undergone a corresponding degree of
compression, but not until subjected to a great amount of violence.

But solid bodies, and those that are dry and more compact, such as
stone, and wood, and also metals, endure a still less degree of com
pression or extension ; such indeed as to be scarcely perceptible ; for
they free themselves by breaking, by progression, or by other efforts ;
as is apparent in the curvature of wood or metal, in clocks moved by
coiled springs, in missiles, hammerings, and countless other kinds of
motions. And all these, with their measures, are to be marked and
explored in the investigation of Nature ; either to a certainty, or by
estimation, or by comparison, as opportunity shall offer.

xlvi. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the twenty-
second place, Instances of the Course^ which we also call Instances of
the Water ; borrowing the word from the clocks of the ancients, into
which water was poured in the place of sand. They measure Nature

NOVUM O KG A NUM. 371

by moments of time, just as the Instances vf the Rod do by degrees of
space. For all natural motion or action is transacted in time, some
more quickly, others more slowly, but all in moments which are deter
mined, and known to Nature. Even those actions which seem to be
performed suddenly, and in the twinkling of an eye (as we say), arc
found to admit ot degrees in respect of time.

First, then, we see that the return of the heavenly bodies is per
formed in calculated periods, as also the flow and ebb of the sea.
And the motion of heavy bodies towards the earth, and that of light
bodies towards the circumference of the heavens, takes place in
definite moments, according to the Nature of the body moved, and
of the medium in which it moves. '1 he sailing of ships, the move
ments of animals, the transmission of missiles, all take place in times,
the sums of which admit of calculation. And as regards heat, we see
boys during winter bathing their hands in tlame, without being burned ;
and jugglers can, by agile and equable movements, turn vessels full of
wine or water upside down, and bring them up again, without spilling
the liquid ; and many other similar instances. In like manner the
compressions, dilations, and eruptions of bodies take place, some
quickly, others slowly, according to the Nature of the body, and of the
motion, but all in definite periods. Moreover, in the explosion of
several cannon at once, which is heard sometimes to the distance of
thirty miles, the sound is perceived by those who are near sooner than
by those who are further off. And in vision (where the action is
most rapid) it is clear that certain moments of time are required for
its accomplishment, as is proved in the case of those objects which
from the velocity of their motion are invisible ; for instance, the
discharge of a bullet from a musket. For the passage of the bullet is
too rapid to allow of an impression of its image being conveyed to the
sight.

And this fact, with others like it, has at times suggested to us a
strange doubt ; viz. whether the face of a clear and starlight heaven is
seen at the time it really exists, or a little later ; and whether there
be not (as regards vision of the heavenly bodies) a real time, and an
apparent time, no less than a true place, and an apparent place, as
noted by astronomers in the case of parallaxes. So incredible did it
seem to us that the images or rays of the heavenly bodies should be
instantaneously conveyed to the sight through such an immense space,
and not rather take a noticeable time in travelling. Hut that suspicion
(as to the existence of any great interval between the real and the
apparent time) afterwards entirely vanished, when we took into
account the infinite loss and diminution of quantity, caused by dis
tance, between the real body of a star and its appearance ; and at the
same time observed the great distance (sixty miles at least) at which
bodies which are merely white are instantaneously discovered here on
earth ; while there is no doubt that the light of heavenly bodies ex
ceeds many times, in strength of radiation, not merely the vivid
brilliancy of whiteness, but also the light of every flame known to us.
Again, the immense velocity of the bodies themselves, as perceptible

372 NOVUM ORGANUM.

in the diurn.il motion, (which has so astonished grave men, that they
preferred believing that the earth moved), makes that motion of
radiation (although, as we said, marvellous in its quickness) more
credible. But the consideration which moved us most of all was that
if any perceptible interval of time were interposed between the real
and the apparent, it would happen that the appearances would often
be intercepted and confused by rising clouds, and similar disturbances
of the medium. And now sufficient has been said about the simple
measures of time.

But we have not only to seek the simple measure of motions and
actions, but, what is much mere important, their comparative measure,
for that is of immense use and of wide application. We see that
the flash of a gun is seen sooner than its report is heard, although
the ball must necessarily strike the air before the flame behind it
can get out ; now the cause of this is, that the motion of light takes
place more rapidly than that of sound. We see also, that visible
images are taken up by the sight more quickly than they are dismissed ;
whence it happens that the strings of a fiddle, struck by the finger, are
doubled and trebled in appearance, because a new image is received
before the old one is dismissed ; so it also happens that revolving
rings assume a spherical appearance ; a blazing torch carried hastily
at night seems to have a tail. Also upon this inequality of motions,
as regards velocity, Galileo built up his theory of the flowing and
ebbing of the sea ; imagining that the earth revolved faster than the
waters, whence the waters gathered themselves up in a heap, and
then in turn relaxed and fell, as is shown in the case of a vessel of
water moving quickly. But for this speculation he demands data
which cannot be allowed (viz. that the earth moves), and besides we
have not sufficient information as to the tidal motion of the ocean
every six hours.

But we have a conspicuous example of the matter in hand, namely,
of the comparative measures of motions, and not only of the thing
itself, but also of its singular use (of which we spoke a little while ago)
in mines charged with gunpowder, whereby vast masses of earth,
buildings, and the like, are upheaved and thrown into the deep by an
insignificant quantity of powder. The cause of this undoubtedly is,
that the expanding motion of the powder, which is the impelling
force, is many times quicker than the motion of gravity, which resists
it ; so that the former motion is accomplished before the opposing
motion begins, and thus at the outset the resistance is a nullity.
Hence it is not the strong blow, or the sharp and rapid one, which is
most effective in projecting all kinds of missiles. Nor would it be
possible that the small quantity of animal spirit in animals, especially
in such vast bodies as those of whales, or elephants, could lead and
govern such a large mass of body, were it not for the velocity of the
motion of the spirit, and the slowness of the bodily mass in exciting
its resistance.

Indeed, this is a principal foundation of the experiments in magic,
about which we shall speak presently, where a small mass of mattqr

NOVUM ORGANU&I. 373

overcomes a far greater mass, and reduces it to order ; I mean the
possibility of one of two motions getting the start of the other, and
anticipating its action.

Lastly, this same distinction of earlier and later should be observed
in all natural action. Thus in an infusion of rhubarb the purgative
property is extracted first, the astringent afterwards ; something
similar to which we have found in the infusion of violets in vinegar,
where the sweet and delicate odour of the flower comes oft" first, and
then the more earthy part, which spoils the scent. And so if violets
are steeped for a whole day, the odour comes off more feebly than if
the flowers be steeped for a quarter of an hour only, and then taken
out ; and, since the scented spirit residing in the violet is small, if
fresh violets be introduced every quarter of an hour, renewing them as
many as six times, the infusion is at last so enriched, that although the
violets have not remained in it, taking all their renewals i:ito account,
more than an hour and a half, yet a most grateful scent is left behind,
as strong as that of the violet itself, and lasting for a whole year. Yet it
must be observed that the odour does not gain its full strength until
a month after infusion. And in the distillation of aromatic herbs
steeped in spirits of wine, it appears that there rises first a watery and
useless phlegm, then water containing more of the spirit of wine, and
lastly water containing more of the aroma. And in this way there arc
to be found in distillations a very great number of facts worthy of
observation. But these may suffice for examples.

xlvii. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the twenty- third
place, Instances of Quantity, which we also call Doses of Nature
(borrowing the word from medicine). They are those which measure
virtues by the quantities of bodies, and show what the gini;itity of the
body has to do in producing the mode of the virtue. And first there
are some virtues which subsist only in a cosmical quantity, that is, in
such a quantity as has agreement both with the configuration and
fabric of the universe. For instance, the earth stands fast, its parts
fall. The waters in seas flow and ebb, but not in rivers, except
through the entrance of the sea. Then, again, almost all particular
virtues operate according to the greater or less quantity of the body.
Large masses of water are not easily corrupted, small ones quickly.
\\ ine and beer conic to maturity, and become drinkable much mo:e
quickly in bottles than in large casks. If a herb be steeped in a large
quantity of liquid, infusion takes place rather than imbibition ; if in a
smaller quantity, imbibition rather than infusion. Thus a bath is one
thing in its action on the body, a slight sprinkling another. Again,
slight dews never fall in the air, but are dispersed and incorporated
with it. And in breathing on gems, you may see that slight moisture
is immediately dissolved, like a cloud scattered by the wind. Again,
a piece of magnet does not attract so much iron as the uhole magnet.
On the other hand, there arc virtues in which a small quantity has
more power ; as in piercing, a sharp point penetrates more quickly
than a blunt one ; a pointed diamond scratches glass, and the
like.

374 NOVUM ORGANUM.

But we must not stop here among indefinites, but must inquire
what Ratio the Quantity of a body bears to the mode of its virtue.
For it would be natural to believe that the one equalled the other ; so
that if a leaden ball of one ounce weight fell in a given time, a ball
weighing two ounces ought to fall twice as fast, which is most untrue.
Nor do the same ratios hold in all kinds of virtues, but widely different
ones ; and so those measures must be fought ;from the things them
selves, and not from likelihood or conjectures.

Lastly, in all investigations of Nature the quantity of body required
to produce any effect must be noted, and cautions as to excess or
deficiency be interspersed.

xlviii. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the twenty-
fourth place, Instances of the Struggle, which we also call Predomin
ating Instances. They point out the way in which virtues predominate
and give way in turns, and show which of them is the stronger and
victorious, which the weaker and subdued. For the motions and
efforts of bodies are composed, decomposed, and complicated, no less
than the bodies themselves. We shall therefore set forth first the
principal kinds of motions and active virtues, with a view to a more
accurate comparison of them with regard to strength, and the con
sequent demonstration and designation of Instances of the Struggle and
Predominance.

1. Let the first Motion be the Motion of the Resistance of Matter
which subsists in each of its particles, by reason of which it will not
be annihilated ; so that there is no degree of fire, of weight, or
pressure, no violence, no age nor duration of time, which can reduce
to nothing even the smallest portion of matter, and prevent it from
being something, and occupying some space, and from liberating
itself (no matter what restraint be put upon it) by changing either its
form or its position ; or, if this be not allowed, from subsisting as it
is ; nor can it ever come to the condition of being nothing, or nowhere.
And this motion the Schoolmen (who almost always denominate and
define things according to their effects and inconveniences rather
than their inner causes) either denote by that Axiom, " Two bodies
cannot be in one place," or call it a motion " to prevent the penetra
tion of dimensions." And it is unnecessary to produce examples of
this motion, for it is inherent in every body.

2. Let the second Motion be that which we call Motion of Connec
tion, by which two bodies do not allow themselves to be separated at
any point from some other body, as if they delighted in mutual con
nection and contact. This motion the Schoolmen call motion " to
prevent a vacuum ; " as when water is drawn upwards by suction or
by syringes ; the flesh by cupping-glasses : or when water stands in
perforated jars, without running out, unless the mouth of the jar be
opened to let in the air; and numerous instances of this kind.

3. Let the third Motion be that of Liberty (as we call it), by which
bodies endeavour to free themselves from unnatural pressure or ten
sion, and to return to dimensions suitable to their body. Of this
motion also there are countless examples; as (of escape from pressure)

NOVUM O RCA NUM. 375

water, in swimming ; air, in flying ; water, in rowing ; air, in the un
dulation of winds ; the springs in clocks. And this motion of com
pressed air is shown prettily in children's toy guns, which they make
by hollowing out a piece of elder or some such wood, and then stuff
in a lump of some succulent root, or the like, at each end : they then
thrust the pellet of root towards the other opening by means of a
ramrod ; on which the piece is driven out and expelled at the other
end with a report, and that before it is touched by the neighbouring
root or pellet, or by the ramrod. And as to liberation from tension,
this motion shows itself in the air which remains after the exhaustion
of ghiss eggs ; and in strings, leather, cloth, which recoil after tension,
unless it has become too strong by continuance, &c. And this motion
the Schoolmen indicate under the name of Motion " from the Form
of Element ; " unskilfully enough, as this motion pertains not only to
air, water, or flame, but to all substances possessing consistency, how
ever diverse : as wood, iron, lead, cloths, skins, &c., in which each
body has its own measure of dimensions, and is with difficulty ex
tended into any other appreciable space. Hut because this motion of
liberty is the most obvious of all, and of infinite application, it would
be wise to distinguish it well and clearly. For some very carelessly
confound this motion with the two motions of resistance and connec
tion ; that is to say, the liberation from pressure with the motion of
resistance ; the liberation from tension with the motion of connec
tion ; as if bodies, when compressed, yielded or expanded, to prevent
a penetration of dimensions; and bodies under tension recoiled and
contracted to prevent the formation of a vacuum. But if air, when
compressed, were to contract till it became dense as water, or wood
till it became dense as stone, there would be no occasion for a pene
tration of dimensions ; and yet the compression would be far greater
than they ever endure. In the same way, if water were to expand
till it became as rare as air, or stone till it became rare as wood, there
would be no need of a vacuum, and yet the degree of extension would
be far greater than they ever endure. So the question does not
become one of penetration of dimensions, or of a vacuum, except in
the extreme limits of condensation and rarefaction ; while the motions
of which we speak stop short far within these limits : and are nothing
but the desire of bodies to preserve their consistency (or, if it be
preferred, their Forms), and not to recede from them hastily, nor to be
altered, save by gentle means and by their own consent. Now it is
far more necessary for men to be told (inasmuch as it carries with it
great results) that the violent motion (which we call mechanical, but
which Dcmocritus, who, in explaining his prime motions, must be set
far below even middling philosophers, called Motion of a Stroke) is
merely the Motion of Liberty, that is to say, from compression to
relaxation. For in all simple protrusion or flight through air, there is
no displacing or motion in space, before the parts of the body arc
unnaturally acted upon and compressed by the impelling force. Then
each part pushing the other in succession, the whole is carried along,
not only with a progressive, but also with a rotatory motion, the parts

376 XOVVM ORGANUAf.

seeking thus to free themselves, or else to bear the pressure in fairer
proportions. And thus much of this kind of motion.

4. Let the fourth Motion be that to which we have given the name
of the Motion of Matter, which is in some sort the converse of the
motion just mentioned. For in the Motion of Liberty bodies dread,
reject, and shun a new dimension, or a new sphere, or a new expan
sion and contraction (for all these different expressions intend the
same thing), and strive, with all their might, to recoil and recover
their former consistency. On the contrary, in this Motion of Matter,
bodies desire a new sphere or dimension, and aspire to it readily and
hastily, and sometimes with a very powerful effect (as in the case of
gunpowder). Now the instruments of this motion, not the only ones,
certainly, but the most powerful, or at least the most frequent, are
heat and cold. For example : air, when expanded by tension (as in
the case of glass eggs exhausted by suction) labours under a great
desire of restoring itself. But if heat be applied, it longs, on the
contrary, to expand, and desires a new sphere, and passes over and
enters into it readily, as into a new Form (as they say) ; and after
undergoing some expansion, does not care to return, 'unless it be
invited thereto by the application of cold ; and this is not a return,
but a renewed transformation. In the same manner also water, if it
be made to contract under pressure, resists, and wishes to become
again as it was before, that is to say, larger. But if intense and pro
tracted cold intervene, it condenses itself spontaneously and readily
into ice : and if the cold be continued, and be not interrupted by a
thaw (as is the case in deep caverns and grottoes), it turns into crystal
or some similar material, and never returns to its former consistency.

5. Let the fifth Motion be the Motion of Continuity, by which
term we do not intend simply a primary continuity with some other
body (for that is ihe^Motion of Connection], but self-continuity in a
fixed body. For it is most certain that all bodies dread a solution of
their continuity, some more, some less, but all up to a certain point.
For while in hard bodies (as steel or glass) the resistance to a solution
of continuity is extremely strong and powerful, liquids again, in which
motidn of that kind seems to cease or at least to be languid, are found
to be not altogether destitute of it ; it is really there, in its lowest
degree of manifestation, and betrays itself in very many experiments ;
as in bubbles, in the roundness of drops, in the thin threads of drip
pings from roofs, in the tenacity of glutinous bodies, and the like.
But most of all does this appetite display itself, if we attempt to
extend the discontinuity to small fragments. For in a mortar, after a
certain amount of pounding, the pestle produces no further effect ;
water does not penetrate into very small chinks ; and even air itself,
notwithstanding its corporeal subtlety, docs not suddenly pass into
the pores of solid vessels, until after a long-continued insinuation.

6. Let the sixth Motion be that which we call Motion for Gain, or
Motion of Want. It is that by which bodies, when placed among
other bodies quite heterogeneous and hostile, if they find no oppor
tunity or means of escaping from them, and applying themselves to

NOVUAI ORGANUM. 377

others more cognate (though even these cognate bodies are such as
have no close sympathy with them), nevertheless immediately embrace
these latter, and choose them as preferable ; and seem to set down
this union as a gttin (whence we borrow our term), as though they
were in need of such bodies. For example : gold or any other metal,
in the form of leaves, docs not like the surrounding air. So if it
meets with any thick and tangible substance (as a finger, paper, or
anything else), it forthwith adheres to it, and is not eagerly torn off.
Again, paper, cloth, and the like, do not agree well with the air which
is inserted and mingled in their pores. So they easily imbibe water
or other liquids, and drive out the air. Again, a piece of sugar, or a
sponge soaked in water or wine, even though part of it is left standing
out high above the wine or water, nevertheless draws the water or
wine gradually upwards.

And hence may be drawn an excellent rule for opening and dis
solving bodies. For, setting aside corrosive and strong waters, which
open a way for themselves, if there can be found a body proportioned to
and more in harmony and friendship with any solid body than that
with which it is at present perforce connected, that body forthwith
opens and relaxes itself, and receives the new one into itself, to the
exclusion or removal of the former. Nor does this .Motion for dn'n
operate, or is it possible only, when the bodies are in contact. For
electricity (about which Gilbert and his followers have invented such
fables), is nothing but a corporeal desire created by a gentle friction,
which does not well endure the air, but prefers something tangible, if
it be found in its neighbourhood.

7. Let the seventh Motion be that which we call Motion of Greater
Congregation^ by which bodies are carried to masses of a like nature
with themselves ; the heavy to the earth, the^ light to the circum
ference of the sky. This the School has denoted by the name of
Natural Motion, having looked into the matter but slightly ; cither
because there was no external motion discernible to produce the
motion (wherefore they thought it to be innate and inherent in things
themselves), or, maybe, because it never ceases. And no wonder :
for heaven and earth are always present, whereas the causes and
origins of most other motions arc sometimes absent and sometimes
present. Therefore, this motion, because it is never intermittent, but
always makes its appearance when others arc intermitted, they call
perpetual and proper ; all others they set down as adscititious. This
motion, hoxvcver, is in reality sufficiently weak and dull, inasmuch as
it is one which (except in bodies of considerable si/e) yields and
succumbs to all other motions, so long as they are in operation. And
though this motion has so occupied men's thoughts as almost to throw
others in the background, yet they know but little about it, and arc
involved in many errors concerning it.

8. Let the eighth Motion be the Motion of Lesser Congregation^ by
which the homogeneous parts in any body separate themselves from
the heterogeneous, and combine among themselves : by which also
entire bodies, from similarity of substance, embrace and cherish each

378 NOVUM ORGANUM.

other, and sometimes are collected and attracted together from some
distance ; as when in milk, after standing some time, the cream rises
and swims on the top ; while in wine the dregs and tartar fall to the
bottom. Nor is this owing to the Motion of Heaviness and Lightness
alone, causing some particles to rise to the top, and others to sink to
the bottom ; but in a much greater degree to the desire felt by homo
geneous bodies to combine and unite among themselves. And this
motion differs from the Motion of Want in two particulars. One is
that in the Motion of Want there is at work the stronger stimulus of
a malignant and contrary Nature ; whereas in this motion (provided
there be nothing to hinder or coerce it) the particles unite from friend
ship, although there be no foreign Nature present to stir up strife.
The other is, that the union here is closer, and in it greater choice is
exercised. In the former, only let the hostile body be avoided, and
bodies which are not very much akin will come together ; while in
the latter, substances meet because they are connected by a distinct
relationship, and are drawn together, as it were, into one. And this
motion exists in all composite bodies, and would readily show itself
in each of them, were it not tied and bound by other appetites and
necessities in the bodies, which interfere with that union.

Now restraint is put upon this motion in three ways : by the torpor of
bodies ; by the check of a discordant body ; and by external motion.
With regard to the torpor of bodies, it is certain that there is in
tangible bodies a certain sluggishness, more or less, and a dislike to
motion in space ; so that, unless they be excited, they prefer remain
ing in their present condition to changing for the better. Now this
torpor is shaken off by the help of three things : either by heat, or by
the eminent virtue of some cognate body, or by a lively and powerful
motion. And, as regards the aid of heat, it is for this reason that
heat is designed to be — that which separates what is heterogeneous ana
combines what is homogeneous ; a definition of the Peripatetics which
has been deservedly ridiculed by Gilbert, who says that it is much the
same as if a man were to be defined as that which sows wheat, and
plants vines — for that it is a definition by means of effects alone, and
those particular ones. But the definition has something worse about
it, since those effects (such as they are) are owing not to the peculiar
properties of heat, but only to accident (for cold does the same, as we
shall show hereafter), namely, to the desire of the homogeneous parts
to unite ; heat helping only so far as to dispel the torpor which had
previously fettered the desire. And as for help rendered by the virtue
of a cognate body, it is marvellously well shown in the armed magnet,
which excites in iron the virtue of detaining iron, by similarity of
substance, the torpor of the iron being dispelled by the virtue of the
magnet. And with reference to help rendered by motion, it is con
spicuous in wooden arrows, which have also points of wood, for these
penetrate deeper into wood than if they were tipped with iron, owing
to the similarity of substance, the torpor of the wood being dispelled
by the rapid motion ; and of these two experiments we have spoken
also in the Aphorism on Clandestine Instances.

NOVUM ORGANUM. 379

The binding of the Motion of Lesser Congregation, which is caused
by the restraint of a dominant body, is conspicuous in the resolution
of blood and urine by cold. For as long as these bodies are filled
with the active spirit, which, as if master of the whole, orders and
restrains the several parts, of whatsoever kind, so long the homo
geneous pails do not meet together on account of the restraint ; but
as soon as the spirit has evaporated, or has become choked with cold,
then the parts, freed from restraint, meet together according to their
natural desire. And thus it happens that all bodies which contain an
eager spirit (as salts and the like) remain without being dissolved ;
owing to the permanent and durable restraint of a dominant and
imperious spirit.

The binding of the Motion of Lesser Congregation, which is caused
by external motion, is most conspicuous in^the shaking of bodies, to
prevent putrefaction. For all putrefaction depends on the assembling
together of homogeneous parts, whence there gradually takes place a
corruption of the old Form (as they call it), and the generation of
a new one. For putrefaction, which levels the way for the generation
of a new Form, is preceded by the dissolution of the old, which is
itself a meeting of homogeneous parts. And that, if not hindered, is
simple reduction ; but if it be met by various obstacles, there ensue
putrefactions, which are the rudiments of a new generation ; but if
(as in the present case) a frequent agitation be kept up by external
motion, then, indeed, this mode of uniting (which is delicate and
tender, and requires rest from things without) is disturbed and
ceases, as we see takes place in numberless cases ; as when the
daily stirring or flowing of water keeps off putrefaction ; winds keep
off pestilence in the air ; corn turned and shaken in the granary
remains pure : all things, in short, when agitated from without do not
easily putrefy within.

It remains for us to notice that meeting of the parts of bodies
which is the chief cause of induration and dessication. For when the
spirit, or moisture turned to spirit, has escaped from some porous
body (as wood, bone, parchment, and the like), then the grosser parts
are drawn together, and unite with a greater effect ; which we think
arises not so much from the motion of Connection, to prevent a
vacuum, as to this motion of friendship and union.

As for the meeting of bodies from a distance, that is unfrcqucnt
and rare ; and yet it exists in more cases than are generally observed.
We have examples of this when one bubble dissolves another ; when
drugs draw out humours, by similarity of substance ; when the chord
of one violin makes the chord of another sound an unison, and the
like. We imagine, also, that this motion prevails in the spirits of
animals, though it be altogether unperceived. Hut it certainly exists
conspicuously in the magnet, and in excited iron. And when we
speak of the motions of the magnet we ought carefully to distinguish
them. For there are four virtues or operations in the magnet which
should not be confounded, but kept apart ; although the admiration
and wonder of men have mixed tlvm up together. The first is the

38o NOVUM ORGANUM.

attraction of magnet to magnet, or of iron to the magnet, or of excited
iron to iron. The second is its north and south polarity, and also its
declination. The third, its power of penetrating through gold, glass,
stone, in fact everything. The fourth, its power of communicating its
virtue from stone to iron, and from iron to iron, without communica
tion of substance. But in this place we are only speaking of the
first virtue, viz., of combination. The motion of combination between
quicksilver and gold is also remarkable, insomuch that gold attracts
quicksilver, though made up into ointment ; and men who work
among the vapours of quicksilver usually keep a lump of gold in
their mouths to collect the exhalations, which would otherwise pene
trate their skulls and bones, by which the lump of gold is soon turned
white. And thus much have we said concerning the Motion of Lesser
Congregation.

9. Let the ninth Motion be Magnetic Motion, which, though it be in
kind allied to the Motion of Lesser Congregation, yet if it operate at
great distances, and on great masses, deserves a separate investiga
tion ; especially if it neither begins with contact, as most, nor leads
to contact, as all motions of congregation do ; but simply raises the
bodies, or makes them swell, and nothing more. For if the moon
raises the waters, or makes moist things swell ; if the starry heaven
attracts the planets towards their apogees ; if the sun holds Venus
and Mercury, so as to prevent their travelling further than a certain
distance from him ; these motions seem to be ranged properly neither
under Greater Congregation, nor under Lesser Congregation, but to
belong, as it were, to an intermediate and imperfect congregation, and
therefore, by rights, to constitute a species of their own.

10. Let the tenth Motion be that of Flight : that is to say, a motion
contrary to the Motion of Lesser Congregation, by which bodies, from
antipathy, flee from and put to flight hostile bodies, and separate
themselves from them, or refuse to mingle with them. For although
in some cases the motion may seem to be accidental, or a consequence
of the Motion of Lesser Congregation, because the homogeneous parts
cannot come together until the heterogeneous parts have been ex
cluded and removed ; yet this motion should be set by itself, and be
constituted a distinct species, because in many cases the desire of
Flight \s seen to be more powerful than the desire of coming together.

Now this motion is eminently conspicuous in the excretions of
animals ; and not less in objects odious to some of the senses, espe
cially those of smell and taste. For a fetid odour is so rejected by
the sense of smell, as even to induce a sympathetic motion of expul
sion in the orifice of the stomach ; a rough and bitter taste is so
rejected by the palate or throat, as to induce a sympathetic shaking
of the head, and shuddering. But this motion takes place in other
things also. For it is conspicuous in certain Forms of Antiperistasis ;
as in the mid-region of the air, where the cold seems to be the result
of the rejection of the Nature of cold from the confines of the
heavenly bodies ; as also the great heats and burnings, which are
found in subterraneous places, seem to be the results of the rejec-

NO I' CM O RCA NUM. 381

tion of the Nature of heat from the inner parts of the earth. For
heat and cold, in small quantities, destroy one another ; but if they
be present in great masses, and, as it were, in regular armies, then,
after a conflict, they remove and expel each other in turn. It is said,
also, that cinnamon and sweet herbs retain their perfumes longer
when placed near drains and foul-smelling places, on account of their
refusing to come out and mingle with fetid smells. It is certain that
quicksilver, which of itself would reunite in a mass, is prevented by
human saliva, hog's-lard, turpentine, and the like, from combining
its particles, owing to the want of sympathy of its parts with such
bodies ; from which, when spread around them, they draw back, so
that their Flight from these intervening bodies is more energetic than
their desire of uniting with parts like themselves; and this is called
the mortification of quicksilver. Moreover, the fact that oil does not
mix with water is not simply owing to the difference of weight, but to
the want of sympathy between these fluids ; as may be seen from the
fact that spirit of wine, though lighter than oil, yet mixes well with
water. Hut most of all is the Motion of Flight conspicuous in nitre,
and such like crude bodies, which abhor flame ; as in gunpowder,
quicksilver, and gold. But the Flight of iron from one side of the
magnet is well observed by Gilbert to be not a F'light, properly so
called, but a conformity, and a meeting in a more convenient position.
11. Let the eleventh Motion be that of Assimilation^ or of Self-
Multiplication^ or of Simple Generation. By Simple Generation we
do not intend that of integral bodies, as plants or animals, but of
bodies of similar texture. We mean that by this motion bodies of
similar texture convert other bodies of a kindred nature, or which
are, at least, well disposed and prepared for them, into their own
substance and Nature. Thus flame, over vapours and oily substances,
generates new flame ; air, over water and watery substances, multi
plies itself, and generates new air ; spirit, vegetable and animal, over
the rarer particles both of water and oil, in its food multiplies itself,
and generates new spirit ; the solid parts of plants and animals, as
lc:ives, flowers, flesh, bone, and the rest, severally, out of the juices of
their food assimilate and generate a successive and ever-renewed
substance. For let no one adopt the wild fancy of Paracelsus, who
(forsooth, blinded by his fondness for distillations) would have that
nutrition took place by separation alone ; and that in bread and meal
lie concealed eye, nose, brain, liver ; in the moisture of the c.trth,
root, leaves, and flowers. For as the artisan out of the rude mass of
stone or wood, by separation and rejection of what is superfluous,
brings forth leaf, flower, eye, nose, head, foot, and the like ; so, he
asserts, Archojus, the internal artisan, educes out of food, by separa
tion and rejection, the several members and parts of our body. Hut
leaving these trifles, it is mo<»t certain that the several parts, as well
similar as organic, in vegetables and animals, do first attract, with
some degree of choice, the juices of their food which arc alike, or
nearly so for all, and then assimilate them, and convert them into
their own Nature. Nor does this Assimilation, or Simple Genera'

382 NOVUM ORGANUM.

tion, take place solely in animate bodies ; inanimate bodies also share
in it, as has been said of flame and air. Moreover the dead spirit,
which is contained in every tangible animate substance, is perpetually
at work digesting the coarser parts, and changing them into spirit, to
be afterwards expelled ; whence arises the diminution of weight, and
the dessication, which we have mentioned elsewhere. Nor, in cov\-
sldering Assimilation, must we reject that accretion which is commonly
distinguished from alimentation, as when clay between stones hardens,
and is converted into stony matter ; when the scaly substance on the
teeth turns into a substance no less hard than are the teeth them
selves, &c. For we are of opinion that there exists in all bodies a
desire for Assimilation^ as well as for combining with homogeneous
substances ; but this virtue is restrained, as is the former, though not
by the same means. But these means, as well as the method of
escape from them, should be investigated with all diligence, because
they bear upon the rekindling of old age. Lastly, it seems worthy
of note, that, in the nine motions already spoken of, bodies seem
only to desire the preservation of their own Nature ; but in this tenth
the propagation of it.

12. Let the twelfth Motion be that of Excitation; a motion which
seems to belong to the same genus as that of Assimilation, and which
we sometimes call indiscriminately by that name. For it is a motion
diffusive, communicative, transitive, and multiplicative, as is the other;
and agreeing with it, for the most part, in effect, but differing in the
mode of effect, and the subject-matter. The Motion of Assimilation
proceeds, as it were, with authority and power, for it commands and
compels the assimilated body to be turned into the assimilating. But
the Motion of Excitation proceeds, as it were, with art, by insinua
tion, and stealthily, and only invites and disposes the excited body
towards the Nature of the exciting. Moreover, the Motion of Assimi
lation multiplies and transforms bodies and substances ; thus more
flame is produced, more air, more spirit, more flesh. But in the
Motion of Excitation virtues only are multiplied and transferred ;
more heat being engendered, more magnetic action, more putrefac
tion. This motion is especially conspicuous in heat and cold. For
heat does not diffuse itself in heating a body by communication of
heat in the first instance, but only by exciting the parts of the body to
that motion which is the Form of Heat, about which we have spoken
in the First Vintage concerning the Nature of Heat. Therefore heat
is excited far more slowly, and with far greater difficulty, in stone or
metal, than in air, on account of the tinfitness and unreadiness of
those bodies for that motion ; so that it is probable that in the interior
of the earth there may exist materials which altogether reject heat,
because, through their greater condensation, they are destitute of that
spirit with which the Motion of Excitation generally begins. In like
manner the magnet endues iron with a new disposition of parts, and
a conformable motion, and loses nothing of its own virtue. In like
manner leaven, yeast, curd, and some poisons, excite and invite a
successive and continual motion in dough, beer, cheese, or the human

NOVUKf ORGANUM. 383

body respectively ; not so much by the force of the exciting, as from
the predisposition and easy yielding of the excited body.

13. Let the thirteenth Motion be the Motion of Impression, which
is also of the same genus with the Motion of Assimilation, and is
the most subtle of all diffusive motions. But we have thought fit to
constitute it into a species by itself, on account of the remarkable
difference between it and the two former. For the simple Motion of
Assimilation transforms the bodies themselves ; so that if you take
away the first moving agent, there will be no difference in what
follows. For the first kindling into flame, or the first turning into air,
has no effect on the flame or air of the next generation. In like
manner the Motion of Excitation remains when the first mover is
removed for a considerable length of time, as in a heated body when
the first heat has been removed ; in excited iron when the magnet
is removed ; in dough when the leaven is removed. But the
Motion of Impression, although it is diffusive and transitive, yet
seems ever to depend on the prime mover, so as, on its removal
or cessation, immediately to fail and perish ; and therefore the
result is arrived at in a moment, or, at least, in a short space of
time. Wherefore we usually call the Motions of Assimilation and
Excitation, Motion of the Generation of Jupiter, because the genera
tion remains ; and the latter motion we call the Motion of the Gene
ration of Saturn, because the birth is immediately devoured and
absorbed. This motion manifests itself in three ways : in the rays
of light ; in the percussion of sounds ; and in magnetic action, as far
as communication is concerned. For, if light be removed, colours
and its other images immediately vanish ; if the first percussion and
the consequent agitation of the body be done away with, the sound
soon after dies away. For though sounds are disturbed during their
course by winds, as if by waves, yet we must be careful to remark that
the sound docs not last all the time that the resonance is going on.
For when a bell is struck the sound seems to continue for a con
siderable time, whence one might easily fall into the error of thinking
that during the whole of that time the sound is, as it were, floating
and hanging in the air, which is most untrue. For the resonance is
not numerically the same sound, but a renewal of it ; and this is
shown clearly by quieting or restraining the percussion of the body.
For if the bell be held tight, so that it cannot move, the sound imme
diately dies away, and resounds no longer; as in stringed instruments,
if after the first percussion the string be touched with the finger, as in
the lyre ; or with a reed, as in the spinet ; the resonance immediately
ceases. And when the magnet is removed the iron straightway falls.
The moon cannot be removed from the sea, nor the earth from a
falling body possessed of weight : and therefore we cannot make any
experiments concerning them ; but the principle is the same.

14. I^et the fourteenth Motion be the Motion of Configuration, or
Position, by which bodies seem to desire not combination, or separa
tion of any kind, but position, collocation, and configuration, with
respect to others. And this motion is a very abstruse one, and has

384 NOVUM ORGANUM.

not been well investigated. In some cases it seems to be referable to
no cause ; but this, as we think, is not really the case. For if we
inquire why the heavens revolve from east to west, rather than from
west to east, or why they turn on poles placed near the Bears, rather
than round Orion, or any other part of the heavens, such a question
seems to be a sort of rhapsody, since these things ought rather to be
received on the authority of experience, as positive truths. There are,
indeed, in Nature some things which are ultimate, and referable to no
cause ; but this does not seem to be one of them, being caused, in our
opinion, by a certain harmony and consent of the universe, which has
hitherto escaped observation. And if we admit the motion of the
earth from west to east, the same questions remain. For it also moves
on certain poles. And why, it may be asked, should these poles be
placed where they are, rather than anywhere else ? Again, the
polarity, the direction, and declination of the magnet are referable
to this motion. There are also found in bodies both natural and
artificial, especially such as possess consistency, and are not fluid, a
certain collocation and position of parts, and a kind of threads and
fibres, which ought to be carefully investigated ; for until their Nature
is discovered, these bodies cannot be conveniently handled or governed.
But those eddyings in fluids by which, when pressed, before they can
free themselves, they relieve each other, that the compression may be
more evenly distributed, are more correctly assigned to the Motion of
Liberty.

15. Let the fifteenth Motion be the Motion of Pertransition, or
Motion according to tlie Passages^ by which the virtues of bodies are
more or less impeded or promoted by their media, according to the
Nature of the bodies and of the virtues operating on them, and also
of the medium. For one medium suits light, another sound, another
heat and cold, another magnetic virtues, and so on with others.

16. Let the sixteenth Motion be that which we call Regal, or Poli
tical^ by which the predominant and commanding parts in any body
restrain, tame, subdue, and arrange the rest, and compel them to
unite, separate, stand still, be moved, be placed, not according to
their own inclinations, but in such order as may conduce to the well-
being of that commanding part ; so that there is a sort of rule or polity
exercised by the ruling part over those which are subordinate. This
motion is most especially observable in the spirits of animals, where,
as long as it is in vigour, it controls the motions of all the other parts.
It is also found in other animals in an inferior degree, as has been
said of blood and urine, which are not dissolved until the spirit, which
has been mingling and restraining their parts, is expelled or stifled.
Nor is this motion peculiar to spirits alone, although in many bodies
the spirits predominate, owing to the swiftness of their motion and
penetration. But in bodies of greater condensation, which are not
filled with a lively and energetic spirit (such as exists in quicksilver
and vitriol), the thicker parts predominate, so that, unless some art is
used to shake off this rein and yoke, there is no hope of any new
transformation in bodies of this kind. But let no one suppose tha^

NOVVM ORGANUAf. 385

we are forgetting the subject under consideration, because while this
series and distribution of motions tends to nothing but the better in
vestigation of \ht\r frf dominance by Instances of Strife, \ve now make
mention of predominance among the motions themselves. For in
describing this Rcgtil Motion we do not treat of the predominance of
motions or virtues, but of the predominance of parts in bodies. For
this is the predominance which constitutes that peculiar species of
motion of which we speak.

17. Let the seventeenth Motion be the Spontaneous Motion of
Rotation^ by which bodies delighting in motion, and advantageously
placed, enjoy their Nature, and follow themselves alone, and, as it
were, court their own embraces. For it seems that bodies cither have
motion without limit, or remain entirely at rest, or tend to a limit at
which, according to their own Nature, they either revolve or remain
at rest. Those which arc favourably placed, if they delight in motion,
move in circles, with a motion that is eternal and infinite. Those
which are favourably placed, and hate motion, rest. Those which are
not favourably placed, move in a straight line (as the shortest path),
to consort with kindred bodies. I>ut this Motion of Rotation admits
of nine differences. The first has reference to the centre round which
the bodies move ; the second, to the poles on wh'u h they move ; the
third, to the circumference or orbit, according to their distance from
the centre ; the fourth, to their velocity, according to the greater
or less rapidity of their rotation ; the fifth, to the course of their
motion as from east to west, or from west to cast ; the sixth, to their
declination from a perfect circle, by spira's more or less distant from
their centre; the seventh, to their declination from a perfect circle by
means of spirals more or less distant from their poles ; the eighth, to
the greater or less distance of their spirals from each other ; the ninth
and last, to the variation of the poles themselves, if they arc move-
able ; which, however, has nothing to do with rotation, unless it be
circular. And this motion is held by common and long-received
opinion to be the proper motion of heavenly bodies. There is, how
ever, a grave controversy about this motion among some, both of the
ancients and moderns, who have attributed rotation to the earth.
Ikit perhaps a far justcr question suggests itself (supposing the case
not to be past all question), viz., whether this motion (granting that
the earth is stationary) is confined to the heavens, or does not rather
descend, and impart itself to the air and water. The Motion of Rota
tion in missiles, such as darts, arrows, bullets, and the like, we refer
to the Motion oj Liberty.

18. Let the eighteenth Motion be the Motion of Trepidation^ in
which (as understood by astronomers) we do not put much faith,
liut the motion comes before us during a careful scrutiny of the appe
tites of natural bodies, and ought, as it seems, to be made to consti
tute a species. It is a Motion of what may be called eternal captivity.
It occurs, for instance, when bodies which arc in a position not in
every respect suitable to their Nature, and yet arc not altogether
uneasy, are in a continual state of trepidation, and move restlessly,

25

386 NOVUM ORGANUM.

being discontented with their present position, and yet not daring to
proceed further. Such is the motion found in the heart and pulses
of animals, and must of necessity occur in all bodies which exist in an
intermediate state between comfort and discomfort, so that when dis
turbed they try to liberate themselves, and being again repulsed, are
yet for ever trying again.

19. Let the nineteenth and last Motion be that which, while it
hardly suits to the name, is yet plainly a motion. And this we may
call the Motion of Repose, or of Aversion to Motion. By this Motion
the earth stands still in its mass, while its extremities are moving to
the middle; not to an imaginary centre, but to a point of union. By
this appetite also all bodies of great density dislike motion ; in fact,
they have no other desire than that not to be moved ; and although
they be tempted and provoked to motiAn in numberless ways, yet, as
far as possible, they preserve their own Nature. And if they be com
pelled to motion, they still always seem to be striving to recover their
state of rest, and to move no more. And in doing so they certainly
show themselves nimble, and strive for it eagerly and swiftly enough,
as if weary and impatient of any delay. Of this appetite only a
partial representation can be seen, since, here with us, from the sub
duing and concocting influence of the heavenly bodies, everything
tangible is not only condensed to the last degree, but is even mixed
with some spirit.

And so we have now set forth the species, or simple elements of
motions, or appetites, and active virtues, which are in Nature most
universal. And no small t<tent of Natural Science is sketched forth
in connection with them. Nevertheless we clo not pretend that other
species may not be added ; or that these same divisions may not be
laid down differently, and more in conformity with the truer veins of
Nature ; or that they may not be reduced to a smaller number. And
we do not intend what we have been saying to refer to any abstract
distinction, as if one were to say that bodies desire either the conser
vation, or exaltation, or propagation, or fruition of their Nature ; or
that the motions of things tend to the conservation and advantage
either of the Universe, as Resistance and Connection; or of groat
wholes, as the Motions of Greater Congregation^ Rotation, and Dreaa
of Motion ; or of Special Forms, and the rest. For though these may
be true, yet, unless they be defined in matter and fabric in accordance
with true lines, they are speculative and of little use. Meanwhile
these will suffice, and be of good service in weighing the Predomi
nances of Virtues, and seeking out Instances of Strife, which is our
business at present.

For of the Motions which we have set forth, some are quite invin
cible ; some are stronger than others, and fetter, curb, and order them;
some reach farther than others; some outstrip others in time and
speed ; some cherish, strengthen, enlarge, accelerate them.

The Motion of Resistance is completely adamantine and invincible.
Whether that of Connection is so also we are yet in doubt, for we
cannot affirm for certain whether there be a vacuum, either gathered

NOVUM ORGANUM. 387

together in one place, or dispersed through the pores of bodies. But
of this we .ire sure, that the reason which induced Lcucippus and
Dernocritus to introduce the doctrine of a vacuum (viz. that without
it the same bodies could not embrace and fill spares of different
magnitudes) is a false one. For there is clearly a folding of Matter,
which folds and unfolds itself in space, within certain limits, without
the interposition of a vacuum ; nor is there in air two thousand times
the amount of \actmm (as there ought to be according to theory) that
there is in g<>lil. This is sufficiently clear from the very powerful
virtues of pneumatic bodies (which would otherwise float like small
dust in vacuum), and by many other proofs. The other kinds of
motion govern and arc governed in turn, each according to the vigour,
quantity, velocity, and force of projection, and also to the aids and
hindrances, which it meets with.

For example : some armed magnets hold and suspend iron sixty
times their own weight. So far docs the Motion of I .csser Congrega
tion predominate over that of Greater Congregation : if the weight be
greater, it gives way. A lever of a certain strength will lift a certain
weight ; so far docs the Motion of Liberty predominate over that of
Greater Congregation; but if the weight be increased it gives way.
Leather stretched up to a certain degree of tension does not break ;
so far does the Motion of Continuity predominate over the Motion of
Tension: but if the tension be carried further, the leather is broken,
and the Motion of Continuity gives way. Water runs out through a
hole of a ccitain bore ; so far the Motion of Greater Congregation pre
dominates over the Motion of Continuity : but, if the size of the hole
be lessened, it gives way, and the Motion of Continuity conquers. If
powdered sulphur be put by itself into a musket with a ball, and fire
be applied, the ball is not expelled ; in this case the Motion of Greater
Congregation overcomes the Motion of Matter. I Jut if gunpowder be
put in, the Motion of A fatter in the sulphur is victorious, being aided
by the Afolioiis of Matter and J-'light in the nitre ; and so of the rest.
For the Instances of the Struggle (which mark Predominance of
Virtues, together with the method and proportion in which they pre
dominate and give way) must be sought from all quarters with keen
and unremitting diligence.

Further, the manner and proportion in which these motions give
way must be diligently examined. That is to say, whether they stop
altogether, or whether they continue to resist under restraint. For in
bodies here with us there is no real rest, cither in wholes, or in parts,
but only in appearance. Now this apparent rest is caused either by
Equilibrium, or by absolute Predominance of Motions. IJy Equili
brium, as in scales, which arc stationary if the weights be equal ; by
Predominance, as in perforated vessels containing water, where the
water remains at rest, and is kept from falling out by the Predomi
nance of the Motion of Connection. IJut it should be observed, as we
have said, how far these motions resist before giving way. For if a
man be kept perforce extended on the ground, with his arms and legs
bound, or be otherwise held down, and yet strive with all his might to

388 NOVUM ORGANUAf.

rise, the effort is not the less, though it be unsuccessful. But the real
state of the matter (that is to say, whether by Predominance the
motion which gives way is, as it were, annihilated, or whether the
effect is continued, although so as not to be visible) will perhaps,
though latent in the conflict, become apparent in the concurrence of
motions. For example, let experiment be made in musketry, ob
serving how far a gun will carry a ball in a straight line, or, to use the
common expression, point blank ; and try whether, if it be fired
upward (in which case the motion of the blow is sir.) pie), the stroke
be feebler than when it is fired downward, where the Motion of Gravity
acts in the same direction with the blow.

Again, such canons of Predominances as we meet with must be col
lected. As, that the more general the advantage sought, the stronger
is the motion ; thus the Motion of Connection, which has respect to
communion with the Universe, is stronger than the Motion of Gravity,
which has respect to communion with dense bodies. Also, appetites
which seek private good seldom prevail against appetites which seek
a more public good, except in small quantities. Would that the same
rules held good in politics !

xlix. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the twenty-fifth
place, Suggestive Instances : those which suggest or indicate what is
useful to men. For mere power and mere knowledge enlarge human
Nature, but do not bless it. Therefore we must gather from the whole
mass of things such as contribute most to the uses of life. But a more
proper place for speaking of these will be when we come to treat of
Deductions to Practice, Moreover, in the work itself of Interpretation
on each individual subject, we always assign a place to the Human
Chart, or Chart of Things to be desired. For to wish judiciously is as
much a part of knowledge as to inquire judiciously.

1. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the twenty-sixth
place, Polychrest Instances, or Motions of Manifold Use. They are
such as have various applications, and are of frequent occurrence,
and therefore save no small amount of labour and fresh demonstra
tion. But of the instruments and contrivances themselves the proper
place for speaking will be when we come to treat of Deduction to
Practice, and Modes of Experimenting. Moreover, those which are
already known, and have come into use, will be described in the par
ticular histories of the individual arts. At present we shall subjoin a
few general remarks on them merely to illustrate this Manifold Use.

Man, then, acts upon bodies (over and above their simple applica
tion and withdrawal) chiefly in seven ways : either by exclusion of
whatever hinders and disturbs ; by compression, extension, agitation,
and the like ; by heat and cold ; by continuance in a suitable place ;
by the restraint and government of motion ; by special sympathies ;
or by the seasonable and due alternation, series, and succession of all
these methods, or at least of some of them.

With regard to the first ; the common air, which surrounds us on all
sides, and presses in upon us, and the rays of the heavenly bodies,
cause much disturbance. Therefore whatever tends to exclude them

ORGAXi'M. 38-;

deserves to be reckoned among tilings of Manifold i'sc. To this
division belongs the substance and thickness of vessels in which
bodies piepared for operating upon arc laid up. Such, too, arc the
contrivances for hermetically scaling vessels, by consolidation, and
the l.utiini j<///V////<r, as chemists call it. Again, the closing up of
substances by pouring liquids on their outsidcs is a most useful prac
tice, as when they pour oil over wine, or the juice of herbs, which, by
expanding over the surface like a cover, admirably preserves them
from the air. Nor aic powders a bad thing ; for these, although they
contain some air mixed up with them, yet repel the force of the body
of air \\hich surrounds them, as is the case when grapes or other
fiuits arc preserved in sand or flour. Again, wax, honey, pitch, and
bodies of like tenacity, are lightly used to make exclusion more per
fect, and to keep off the air and the heavenly influences. We have,
too, sometimes made the experiment of placing a vesie1, and some
other bodies as well, in quicksilver, by far the most dense substance
by which bodies can be surrounded. Moreover, grottoes and subter
ranean caverns are of great use in preventing the action of sunlight,
and of that open air which is so destructive ; and such places are used
by the inhabitants of North Germany as granaries. The placing of
bodies in waicr has the same effect ; as I remember to have heard of
bottles of wine sunk in a deep well, for the purpose of cooling them,
and afterwards accidentally or carelessly forgotten, and allowed to re
main there for many years : when they were at last taken out, the wine
was found not only to be not vapid and lifeless, but to taste far better
than before, owing, as it seems, to the more exquisite mixture of its
parts. If the case requires that the bodies should be let down to the
bottom of the water, as in a river, or the sea, without either touching
the water, or being inclosed in scaled vessels, but simply surrounded
with air ; that vessel may well be used which is sometimes employed in
operations under water upon sunken ships, and by the aid of which
divers can remain a long time under water, and breathe occasionally
by turns. This instrument was constructed as follows. A hollow bell
of metal was let down parallel to the surface of the water, so as to
carry with it to the bottom of the sea all the air which it contained.
It stood on three feet (like a tripod >, the height of which was some
what less than that of a man, so that the diver, when out of breath,
could put his head into the bell, take a breath, and then continue his
work. And we have heard that a sort of boat or vessel has been in-
\rntcd capable of carrying men under water for some distance. Any
bodies, thciclore, can easily be hung up in such a vessel ; which is our
icason for mentioning this experiment.

There is also another advantage in carefully and completely closing
up bodies ; for not only docs it prevent the ac< ess of external air (of
which we have just spoken), but it also restrains the exit of the spirit
of the body, on which it is being operated on inside. For it is neces
sary that he who acts on natural bodies should be certain about their
total quantities, viz., that nothing has evaporated or flowed out. For
profound alterations take place in bodies when, while Nature prevents

390 NOVUM O RCA NUM.

annihilation, Art prevents also the loss or escape of any part. On
this subject there has prevailed a false opinion, which, if true, would
well nigh render desperate our chance of preserving a fixed quantity
without diminution, viz., that spirits of bodies, and air when rarefied
by a high degree of heat, cannot be contained in closed vessels, but
escape through their more delicate pores. To this opinion men have
been led by the common experiment of a cup inverted over water,
with a candle or a piece of paper lighted inside it ; the consequence of
which is that the water is drawn up : and by the familar experiment of
cupping-glasses, which, when heated over flame, draw up the flesh.
For Ithey think that in each of these experiments the rarefied air
escapes, and that its quantity being thereby diminished, the water or
flesh takes its place by Motion of Connection. But this is most
erroneous. For the air is not diminished in quantity, but contracted
in space ; nor does the motion of the rising of the water begin till the
flame is extinguished, or the air cooled ; so that physicians, to make
their cupping-glasses draw better, place upon them cold sponges
moistened with water. Therefore there is no reason why men should
be much afraid of the easy escape of air or spirits. For though it be
true that even the most solid bodies have pores, still air or spirit with
difficulty endures such excessive subdivision ; just as water refuses to
run out at very small chinks.

2. Concerning the second of the seven above-mentioned modes of
operating, we must especially observe, that compression and such
violent means have indeed a most powerful effect with respect to local
motion and the like, as in machines and projectiles, even to the
destruction of organic bodies, and of such virtues as consist entirely
in motion. For all life, nay, even all flame and ignition, is destroyed
by compression, just as every machine is spoiled and thrown into con
fusion by the same. It also leads to the destruction of those virtues
which consist in the position and the grosser dissimilarity of the parts.
This is the case with colours : for the whole flower has not the same
colour as when it is bruised ; nor the whole piece of amber as the
same piece pulverized. So also it is with tastes (for there is not the
same taste in an unripe pear as there is in a pressed and ripened one,
for the latter is decidedly sweeter). But this kind of violence has not
much effect on the more noble transformations and alterations of
similar bodies, because bodies do not acquire by them any new con
stant and quiescent consistency, but only one which is transitory, and
struggles always to restore and liberate itself. But it would not be
out of our way to make some rather careful experiments on this
matter : to see, that is, whether the condensation or rarefaction of some
very similar body (such as air, water, oil, and the like), being induced
by violence, can be made to be constant and free, and to become a
sort of Nature. Experiment should first be made by simple continu
ance, and afterwards by means of aids and sympathies. And this
experiment might have readily been made (if only it had occurred to
us) when we were condensing water (as mentioned elsewhere) by
means of hammering and compression, before it broke loose. For

NOVUM ORGAXUM. 391

we should have left the flattened sphere to itself for several clays, and
then taken out the water ; and so tried whether it would immediately
occupy the same dimensions as it did before condensation. If it did
not do so, cither immediately, or, at any rate, soon after, we might
set down the condensation as constant ; if not, it would have appeared
that the restitution had taken place, and that the compression was
transitory. And something similar might have been done with icfcr-
encc to the extension of air in the glass eggs. For we should, after
strong suction, have closed the aperture quickly and closely, and have
allowed the eggs t° remain so closed for some days; and then \\e
might have tried whether, when the hole was opened, the air would
have been drawn in with a hissing sound ; or whether, if they were
plunged in water, as much water was clr.iwn up as there would have
been at fust before the delay. For it is probable, or at least worthy
of trial, that this might have been, and may be the result ; since in
bodies which arc not quite so uniform a lapse of time does produce
such effects. For a stick bent by compression after a time docs not
recoil ; and this must not be imputed to any loss of quantity in the
wood, for the same is the case with plates of iron, if the time be in
creased ; and iron docs not evaporate. Hut if the experiment does
not succeed by mere continuance, the matter must not be given up,
but other aids must be employed. For it is no small gain if, by using
force, we can implant in bodies fixed and constant Natures. For by
this means air can be condensed into water ; and many other results
of the kind be produced ; for man is more master of violent motions
than of any others.

3. The third of the seven modes relates to that which is the great
instrument of operation, whether in Nature or in Art, vi/., Heat and
Cold. And herein man's power clearly halts on one foot. For we
have the heat of fire, which is infinitely more potent and intense than
the heat of the sun as it reaches us, and the heat of animals. But
we have no cold save such as is to be found in the winter, or in
caverns, or by the application of snow and ice ; which may correspond,
perhaps, to the heat of the sun at noon in the torrid zone, increased
by the reflection of mountains and walls ; for to such an extent both
heat and cold can be borne for a short time by animals. 15ut they arc
nothing in comparison with the heat of a burning furnace, or with any
cold corresponding to it in degree. Thus all things here w ith us tend
to rarefaction, desiccation, and consumption ; and hardly anything to
condensation and intcneration, except by mixtures ami methods which
are, so to speak, spurious. Wherefore Instances of Cold must be
collected with all diligence ; and such, we think, may be found by ex
posing bodies on towers during sharp frosts ; by laying them in sub
terranean caverns ; by surrounding them with snow and ice in deep
pits dug on purpose ; by letting them down into wells ; by bury
ing them in quicksilver and metals; by immersing them in waters
which turn wood into stone ; by burying them in the earth as the
Chinese arc said to do with porcelain, who arc said to leave masses,
made for the purpose, under ground for forty or fifty years, and to

392 NOVUM ORGANUM.

transmit them to their heirs as a sort of artificial minerals ; and by
similar methods. Moreover, all natural condensations brought about
by cold should be investigated, with a view to employing them in the
arts when their causes are known. Such may be seen in the exuda
tions from marble and stones ; in the dews found on the inside of
windows in the morning after a frosty night ; in the formation and
collection of vapours into water under the earth, whence fountains
often spring up ; and everything of the kind.

But besides things which are cold to the touch, there are found certain
others having the power of cold, which also condense, but which seem
to act on the bodies of animals only, and hardly to go any further.
Of this sort medicines and plasters present us with many examples,
some of which condense the flesh and tangible parts, as astringent
and also inspissated drugs ; while others condense the spirits, as is
especially seen in the case of soporifics. Now there are two ways in
which drugs of a soporific or sleep-producing character condense the
spirits : the one by quieting their motions, the other by putting them
to flight. For the violet, dried roses, lettuce, and the like beneficent
or benignant medicines, by their friendly and gently cooling fumes,
invite the spirits to unite with them, and restrain their eager and rest
less motion. Again, rose-water, when applied to the nostrils of a per
son who has fainted, causes the resolved and too relaxed spirits to
recover themselves, and in a manner cherishes them. But opiates
and their allies put the spirits entirely to flight, from their malignant
and hostile character. And so, if they be applied to an external part,
the spirits immediately take flight from that part, and are no longer
willing to flow into it ; but if they be taken internally, their vapours,
ascending to the head, put to flight on all sides the spirits contained
in the ventricles of the brain ; and when the spirits retract themselves,
being unable to flee into any other part, they are in consequence
brought together and condensed, and sometimes quite extinguished
and suffocated ; though, on the other hand, these same opiates, taken
in moderation, do, by a secondary accident and quality (viz., that
condensation which succeeds upon their coining together), comfort
the spirits, make them stronger, and check their useless and inflam
matory motions ; whence they come to contribute in no small degree
to the cure of diseases, and the prolongation of life.

Again, we must not neglect the preparing of bodies to receive cold ;
for instance, water slightly warmed is more easily frozen than when
quite cold ; and the like.

Besides, since Nature supplies cold so sparingly, we must do as the
apothecaries do, who, when a simple is not to be obtained, take its
substitute, or quid pro quo, as they call it : as lign aloes for balsam,
caffia for cinnamon. In like manner we must look round diligently
to see if there be any substitutes for cold, viz., any means by which
condensations can be brought about in bodies otherwise than by cold,
whose proper office it is to effect them. Now the number of these con
densations seems to be limited to four, as far as is yet seen. Of these
the first appears to be brought about by simple compression, which

A'Ol'l'M OK6AWM.

393

can do but little towards producing constant density, (since bodies
recoil,) but which may yet, perhaps, be of use as an auxiliary. The
second is brought about by contraction of the grosser parts in any
body after the evaporation or escape of the finer, as happens in
hardening by fire, in the repeated qucnchings of metals, and the like.
The third is brought about by the coming together in any body of the
homogeneous parts, which are most solid, and which were before dis
persed, and mixed up with those that are less solid ; as in the restora
tion of sublimed mercury, which, in a state of powder, occupies a far
greater space than as simple mercury ; and similarly in every purifica
tion of metals fiom their dross. The fourth is brought about by
sympathy, by applying substances which condense by some hidden
power of their own : a sympathy which has as yet shown itself but
seldom ; which is not to be wondered at, since, before we succeed in
discovering Forms and Structures, we cannot hope much from inquiry
into sympathies. As regards the bodies of animals, certainly there is
no doubt that there are many media, of internal as well as external
application, which condense, as it were, by sympathy, as we have said
a little above. But with inanimate substances any operation of this
kind is rare. There is prevalent, indeed, both in books and in common
talk, a report of a tree in one of the Terccry or Canary Islands (I do
not exactly remember which) which is continually dropping, so as to
supply the inhabitants with a certain quantity of water. And Para
celsus says that the herb called Sundew is at noon, and in a burning
sun, filled with dew, while all the other herbs round it are dry. But
we think both of these accounts fabulous. If they were true, these
instances would be most valuable, and worthy of examination. Nor
do we think that those honeydews, like manna, which arc found
on the leaves of the oak in May, arc formed and condensed by any
sympathy or peculiar property in the leaves of the oak ; but that
while they fall equally on the leaves of other trees, they are retained
and remain on those of the oak, because these arc compact, and not
spongy, as most other leaves are.

Of heat, man has indeed abundant store at his command ; but
observation and inquiry are wanting on some points, and those the
most necessary, however the alchemists may boast. For the results
of intense heat are sought out and reviewed ; but those of a gentler
kind, which fall in most with the ways of Nature, are not explored,
and are therefore unknown. And therefore we see that by those heats
which are most used, the spirits of bodies arc greatly exalted, as in
the case of strong waters and some other chemical oils ; the tangible
parts are indurated, and, the volatile being discharged, sometimes
fixed ; the homogeneous parts are separated, and heterogeneous
bodies are in a coarse way incorporated and mixed up ; above all, the
connections of corporate bodies and their more subtle structures arc
broken down and thrown into confusion. Whereas the operations of
a gentler heat ought to have been tried and investigated, whence the
more subtle mixtures and regular configurations might be generated
and educed, after the example of Nature, and in imitation of the

394 NOVUM ORGANUM.

operation of the sun ; as we have sketched out in the Aphorism on
the Instances of Alliance. For the operations of Nature arc per
formed by far smaller portions at a time, and by arrangements far
more exquisite and varied than the operations of lire as now applied.
Then, indeed, may we expect to see a real increase in the power of
man, when, by artificial heats and other influences, the operations of
Nature can be represented in form, perfected in virtue, varied in
abundance, and also accelerated in time. For the rust of iron takes
a long lime to form, but the turning into crocus man' is takes place
directly ; and the same is the case with virdigris and white lead :
again, crystal is a long time in forming, glass is blown immediately.
Stones are long in growing, bricks are baked at once, £c. Meanwhile
(and this is our business at present) heats of every kind, with their
affections, must be carefully and industriously collected and investi
gated in all quarters ; the heat of the heavenly bodies by their rays
direct, reflected, refracted, and combined in burning lenses ; the heat
of lightning, flame, and coal fire ; of fire from different materials ; of
fire opened, confined, straitened, and overflowing, in a word, as
qualified by furnaces of different constructions ; of fire excited by the
blast, and also quiescent and non-excited ; of fire removed to a greater
or less distance; of fire passing through different media; of moist
heats, as that of the water-bath, of dung, of animal heat external and
internal, of confined hay ; of dry heats, as of asb.es, lime, warm sand ;
in short, heats of all kinds with their degrees.

But especially we must try to investigate and discover the effects
and operations of heat, which approaches and retires gradually,
orderly, and periodically, by due intervals both of space and time.
For this orderly inequality is in truth the daughter of the heavens and
mother of generation : nor is any great result to be expected from
heat that is either vehement, precipitate, or that comes by fits and
starts. And this is most manifest in vegetables. And also in the
wombs of animals there is a great inequality of heat, arising from the
motion, sleep, nourishment, and passions of the pregnant females :
lastly, in the wombs of the earth itself, those, we mean, in which
metals and fossils are found, this inequality has place and force. And
this renders more remarkable the unskilfulness of some of the alche
mists of the reformed school, who have thought that they can effect
the wishcd-for result by employing the equable heats of lamps, and
the like, burning uniformly. And thus much concerning the effects of
heat. It would be unseasonable to examine them thoroughly until the
Forms of things and the Structures of bodies have been further
investigated and brought to light. For it will be time to seek, apply,
and fit our instruments, when we have determined on our models.

4. The fourth mode of operating is by Continuance, which is indeed
the steward and, as it were, the almoner of Nature. We call it Con
tinuance when any body is left to itself for a considerable time, being
meanwhile protected from external force. For then only the internal
motions exhibit and perfect themselves, when the extraneous and
adventitious motions cease. Now the results of time are far more-

XOVUM OKGA\UM. 595

subtle than those tf fire. For wine cannot be so clarified by fire as
it is by time ; nor arc the ashes resulting from fire as exquisite as the
du-st into which substances are resolved and consumed in the course
of ages. Again, the sudden and precipitate incorporations and
minglings which arc brought about by fire arc far inferior to those
which result from Continuance. And the dissimilar and varied
structures which are assumed by bodies in the course of time, as
putrefactions, arc destroyed by lire or violent heat. Meanwhile it
would not be going out of our way to remark that the motions of
bodies under complete confinement have some violence. For such
restraint impedes the spontaneous motion of a body : and therefore
continuance in an open vessel is most conducive to separations ; in a
vessel perfectly closed to mixtures ; in one partly closed, but allowing
the entrance of the air, to putrefaction. However, Instances of the
operations and effects of Continuance must be carefully collected from
all quarters.

5. The regulation of motion, which is the fifth mode of operating,
is of no little value. We call it regulation of motion when one body,
meeting another, impedes, repels, admits, directs its spontaneous
motion. It consists, for the most part, in the shape and position of
vessels. Thus the upright cone in alembics assists the condensation
of vapours, but the inverted cone assists the refining of sugar in
vessels which lie flat. Sometimes also a curved shape is necessary,
or one alternately contracting and widening, and the like. Indeed all
percolation admits of this explanation,— that the meeting body opens
the way to one portion of the body, and shuts it to another. Nor docs
percolation, or any other regulation of motion, always take place from
without, but also by m?ans of another body inside the body; as when
pebbles are dropped into water to collect its earthy parts ; when
syrups arc clarified with white of eggs, that the coarser parts may
adhere and afterwards be separated. To this regulation of motion
Tclcsius has also carelessly and unskilfully attributed the figures of
animals, which, he says, arc owing to the channels and folds in the
womb. I5ut he ought to have noticed the similar formation in the
case of cg^s, which have neither wrinkles nor inequalities. But it is
true that the regulation of motion produces the shapes in mouldings
and castings.

6. The operations by agreement or aversion (the sixth method)
often lie deeply hidden. For occult and specific properties, as they
call them, and sympathies and antipathies, arc, to a great extent, the
bane of Philosophy. Nor can we hope much for the discovery of the
sympathies of things before we have discovered simple Forms and
StriK lures. For agreement is nothing but the mutual symmctiy of
Forms and Structures.

Hut the greater and more universal agreements of things arc not
utterly obscure ; and so we must begin with them. Their first and
chief diversity is this : that some bodies differ very much in quantity
and rarity of matter, and yet a^rcc in structure ; while others agree
as to density and rarity, but differ in structure. For it has not been

396 NOVUM ORGANUM.

ill-observed by chemists, in their trial of elementary bodies, that
sulphur and mercury permeate everything. (For their views con
cerning salt are foolish, being introduced to enable them to compre
hend bodies of an earthy, dry, and fixed nature.) But certainly in the
two former there seems to be distinguishable one of the most general
consents in Nature. For sulphur agrees with oil, with fatty exha
lations, with flame, and perhaps with the body of a star. On the
other hand, mercury agrees with water and watery vapours, with air,
and perhaps with the pure ether existing among the stars. Still these
two quarternions, or great tribes of things (each in its order) differ in
quantity and density of matter, but agree very closely in structure, as
appears in very many instances ; while different metals agree pretty
much in quantity and density (especially when compared with vege
tables, &c.), but differ much in structure. In like manner different
vegetables and animals vary almost infinitely in structure, but, as
regards quantity or density of matter, lie within very few degrees of
one another.

Next follows that agreement which is most universal after the
former, viz., that of principal bodies and their supports, that is, their
menstrua and aliments. And so inquiry must be made under what
climates, in what earth, and at what depth each metal is generated ;
and similarly of gems, whether found in rocks or among minerals ;
and in what soil each kind of tree, shrub, and herb most flourishes and
rejoices : and at the same time what method of fertilization, either by
manure of any kind, or by chalk, sea-sand, ashes, &c., is most
beneficial, and the special adaptation of these to the various soils.
Again, the budding and grafting of trees, and the method in each
case ; for instance, what plants are best grafted upon what, £c.,
depends much upon sympathy. Under which head it would not be
inappropriate to make the experiment, which we have heard has been
lately tried, of engrafting forest trees (a practice hitherto confined to
fruit trees), whereby the leaves and fruit are greatly enlarged, and the
trees become more shady. Similarly the nourishment of animals
must be respectively noted /// gcnere, and with their negations. For
herbs will not sustain carnivorous animals. Whence the order of
Vegetarians (though in man the will has more power over the body
than in other animals) has, after due trial, as they say, almost dis
appeared, their system proving intolerable to human nature. Also the
different materials of putrefaction, whence animalcuhc are generated,
are to be observed.

The agreements of principal bodies with their subordinates (for such
these which we have noted may be considered) are sufficiently clear.
To which may be added the agreements of the senses with their objects.
And since these agreements are very manifest, if they be well noted
and keenly examined, they may cast great light on other kinds of
agreement which are latent.

Hut the inner agreements and aversions of bodies, or friendships
and strifes (for we are almost weary of the words sympathy and anti
pathy, on account of the superstitions and vanities connected with

NOVUM ORGANUM.

them), arc either falsely ascribed, or intermixed with fables, or, from
neglect, very rarely met with. For if any one were to assert that there
is enmity between the vine and colcwort, because when planted
near one another they are less thriving, the reason is ready— that
both plants arc succulent, and each, by robbing the ground, defrauds
the other of its share of nourishment. If it be said that there is
agreement and friendship between corn and the cornflower, or the
wild poppy, because these plants hardly ever flourish except in culti
vated ground, it ought rather to have been asserted that there is
enmity between them, because the poppy and cornflower are produced
and created by those juices of the soil which the corn has left and
rejected ; so that the sowing of corn prepares the ground for their
growth. And the number of false ascriptions of this kind is great.
And as to fables they must be utterly rooted up. There remains,
indeed, a small number of these agreements, which are certainly
proved by experiment, such as those of the magnet and iron, of gold,
and quicksilver, and the like. In chemical experiments on metals
there are found some others worthy of observation. But they are
found in greatest number (in comparison with their usual variety) in
some medicines, which, through their occult (as they call them) and
specific properties have relation cither to members, or humours, or
diseases, or sometimes to individual Natures. Nor should we omit
the agreements between the movements and changes of the moon and
the affections of bodies below, as they can be gathered and received
from a strict and honest selection from experiments in agriculture,
navigation, and medicine, or elsewhere. Hut the rarer the universal
Instances of more secret agreements are, the more diligently should
they be investigated, by means of traditions and trustworthy and
honest relations, provided this be done without any levity or credulity,
but with an anxious and, as it were, doubting faith. There remains
the agreement of bjdics in their mode of operation, inartificial, indeed,
but 1'olychrcst in kind ; and this must on no account be omitted, but
be investigated with careful observation. It is the readiness or diffi
culty of bodies to come together by composition or simple apposition.
For some bodies are easily and readily combined and incorporated,
but others with difficulty and reluctance. Thus powders mix best
with water, ashes and lime with oil, and so on. Nor should we
gather merely Instances of the propensity or aversion of bodies to
being mingled, but also of their collocation of parts, of their distribu
tion, and digestion after being mixed, and lastly of predominance after
mixture is completed.

7. There remains, finally, the seventh and last of these modes of
action ; namely, operation by the alternation and interchanging of the
other six : but it will not be seasonable to propound examples con
cerning this, until we have inquired somewhat more deeply into each
of the others. Now a scries or chain of such alternations, accomodated
to each particular effect, is a thing at once most difficult to discover,
and most efficacious in operation. Hut the greatest impatience as to
the investigation and practice of this kind detains and occupies men s

398 NOVUAf ORGANUM.

minds, and yet it is a kind of clue to the labyrinth for greater results.
Let this suffice for examples vi Poly chrest Instances.

li. Among Prerogative Instances we shall put in the twenty-seventh
and last place, Magical Instances. By this name we call those in
which the material or efficient is slight or small compared with the
magnitude of the effect which follows ; so that, even though they are
common, yet they are almost miraculous, some at the first glance,
others after more attentive contemplation. But these Nature supplies
sparingly, when left to herself; what she will do when her lap has
been shaken out, and after the discovery of Forms, and Processes,
and Structures, will appear in times to come. But these magical
results (so far as we can as yet conjecture) are brought about in three
ways ; either by self-multiplication, as in fire, and in poisons called
specifics, and also in motions which arc strengthened as they pass on
from wheel to wheel ; or by the exciting or invitation of another body,
as in the magnet, which excites innumerable needles, without any loss
or diminution of its virtue, or in leaven and the like ; or by anticipa
tion of motion, as has been already mentioned in the case of gun
powder, cannon, and mines: of these the two former involve an
investigation of agreements, the third of measure of motions. Whether
or no there is any method of changing bodies per minim a, as they
call it, and of transforming the more subtle structures of bodies (a
proceeding which has relation to every kind of transformation of
bodies), so that Art may be enabled to do in a short time what Nature
does with difficulty and after many windings : is a question about
which we have, as yet, no certain indications. And as in matters
solid and true we aspire to what is final and supreme, so do we
ever hale and, as far as it is in our power, banish, what is vain and
pretentious.

lii. So much for the Digtiities or Prerogatives of Instances. But we
must remind the reader that in this Organum of ours we are treating
of Logic and not of Philosophy. But as our logic is intended to
inform and instruct the Intellect, not to grasp at and try to hold
abstractions with the slender tendrils of the mind (as common logic
docs), but really to dissect Nature and discover the virtues and
actions of bodies, and their laws as determined in matter ; so that
this Science flows not merely from the Nature of the mind, but also
from the Nature of things ; no wonder that it is everywhere sprinkled
and illustrated with speculations and experiments in Nature, as
examples of our art. It appears, then, from what has been said, that
there are twenty-seven Prerogative Instances. Namely, Solitary
Instances, Migrating Instances, Ostcnsive Instances, Clandestine
Instances, Constitutive Instances, Conformable Instances, Singular
Instances, Deviating Instances, Limiting Instances, Instances of Power,
Accompanying and Hostile Instances, Subjunctive Instances, Instances
of Alliance, Instances of the Cross, Instances of Divorce, Instances of tJie
Door, Summoning Instances, Instances of tJic IVay, Supplementary
Instances, Dissecting Instances, Instances of the Rod, Instances of the
Course, Doses of Nature, Instances of tJie Struggle, Suggestive Instances^

NOVUAt ORGANUM. 399

Polychtcst Instances, Magical Instances. Now the use of these
Instances, wherein they excel common Instances, lies cither in the
informative part, or in the operative, or in both. As regards the
informative, they aid either the sense or the understanding : the sense,
as the five Instances of the Lam ft : the understanding, either by
hastening the exclusion of the Form, as the Solitary Instances ; or by
narrowing and indicating more nearly the affirmative of the Form, as
the .Migrating, Ostensive, Accompanying, and Subjunctive Instances ;
or by exalting the understanding, and leading it to genera and common
Natures ; cither immediately, as the Clandestine and Singular
Instances, and those of Alliance; or in the next decree, as the
Constitutive ; or in the lowest, as the Conformable ; or by setting the
understanding right when led away by habit, as De^'ialing Instances ;
or by leading it to the great form or fabric of the Universe, as
Limiting Instances; or by guarding it against f.dsc forms and
causes, as Instances of the Cross and of Divorce. In the operative
part they cither indicate, or measure, or assist practice. They indicate
it by showing with what we should begin, that we may not do what is
already done, as Instances of Power ; or to do what we should aspire, if
means were granted us, as the Suggestive Instances. The four .Mathe
matical Instances measure practice; the Polychrcst and Magical
assist it.

Again, out of these twenty-seven Instances we must make a collec
tion of some (as we have said above) now at starting, without waiting
for a particular investigation of Natures. Of this kind arc the
Conformable, Singular, Deviating, Limiting Instances ; also those of
Pcnvcr, of the Door^ the Suggestive, the Polychrcst, and the Magical.
For these either assist and cure the understanding and senses, or
prepare the way for practice generally. The rest need not be inquired
into until we come to make Tables of Presentation for the work of the
interpreter concerning some particular Nature. For the Instances
marked and endowed with these Prerogatives areas a soul among the
common Instances of Presentation ; and, as we said in the beginning,
a few of them serve as well as many ; and therefore, when we con
struct our tables, they must be investigated with all zeal, and recorded
therein. It will be necessary to mention them in what follows, and so
we have been obliged to treat of them beforehand. Hut we must now
go on to the Sn/>/>orts anil Rectifications of Induction, and then to
Concretes and Latent Processes and Intent Structures, and the rest, as
we have set forth in order in the twenty-first Aphorism : that at
length (like honest and faithful guardians) we may hand over to men
their fortunes, now that their understanding has been emancipated
and, as it were, come of age ; whence there cannot fail to follow an
improvement in man's condition, and an increase in his power over
Nature. For man, by the fall, fell at once from his state of innocence
and from his kingship over creation. lloth of these misfortunes, how
ever, can, even in this life, be in some part repaired ; the former by
Religion and Faith, the latter by the Arts and Sciences. For the
curse did not make Creation entirely and for ever rebellious ; but in

400 NOVVM ORGANUM.

virtue of" that edict, " In the sweat of thy brow shall thou eat bread,'1
it is now, by various labours (assuredly not by disputations or idle
magical ceremonies), at length, in some measure, subdued into
supplying bread for man ; that is, to the uses of human life.

FRANCIS OF VERULAM'S

G R II A t I N S T A U R A T I ( ) N.

sl.\.\OL'.\CKMl-:.\T OF TJ/i: A I "Hi OK.

FRANCIS OF VERULAM THOUGHT THUS, AND SUCH IS THE METHOD
WHICH UK DETERMINED WITHIN HIMSKI.F, AND WHICH HE
THOUGHT IT CONCERNED THE LIVING AND POSTERITY TO KNOW.

BEING convinced, by .1 careful observation, that the human under
standing perplexes itself, or makes not a sober and advantageous use
of the real helps within its reach, whence manifold ignorance and
inconveniences arise, he was determined to employ his utmost endea
vours towards restoring or cultivating a just and legitimate familiarity
betwixt the mind and things.

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

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

This may at first seem an infinite scheme, unequal to human abilities,
yet it will be found more sound and judicious than the course hitherto
pursued, as tending to some issue ; whereas all hitherto done with
regard to the sciences is vertiginous, or in the way of pcipetual
rotation.

Nor is he ignorant that he stands alone in an experiment almost

402 GREAT INSTAURATION.

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

AUTHOR'S PREFACE.

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

IT appears to me that men know neither their acquirements nor their
powers, but fancy their possessions greater and their faculties less than
they are ; whence, either valuing the received nrts above measure, they
look out no farther ; or else despising themselves too much, they
exercise their talents upon lighter matters, without attempting the
capital things of all. And hence the sciences seem to have their
Hercules' Pillars, which bound the desires and hopes of mankind.

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

The fable of Scylla seems a civil representation of the present
condition of knowledge ; for she exhibited the countenance and
expression of a virgin, whilst barking monsters encircled her womb.
Even thus the sciences have their specious and plausible generalities;

GREAT 1NSTAURATION. 403

but when we descend to particulars, which, like the organs of genera
tion, should produce fruits and effects, then spring up loud altercations
and controversies, which terminate in barren sterility. And had this
not been a lifeless kind of philosophy, it were scarce possible it should
have made so little progress in so many ages, insomuch, that not only
positions now frequently remain positions still, but questions remain
questions, rather riveted and cherished than determined by disputes ;
philosophy thus coming down to us in the persons of master and
scholar, instead of inventor and improver. In the mechanic arts the
case is otherwise— these commonly advancing towards perfection in a
course of daily improvement, from a rough unpolished state, sometimes
prejudicial to the first inventors, whilst philosophy and the intellectual
sciences arc, like statues, celebrated and adored, but never advanced ;
nay, they sometimes appear most perfect in the original author, and
afterwards degenerate. For since men have 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 perform the
servile duty of waiting upon particular authors, and repeating their
doctrines.

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

Nor is consent, or the continuance thereof, a thing of any account ;
for however governments may vary there is but one state of the
sciences, and that will for ever be democratical or popular. But tlu«
doctrines in greatest vogue among the people, arc cither the conten
tious and quarrelsome, or the showy and empty ; that is, such as may
either entrap the assent, or lull the mind to rest : whence, of coursr,
the greatest geniuses in all ages have suffered violence ; whilst out of
regard to their own character, they submitted to the judgment of the
times, and the populace. Anil thus when any more sublime specula
tions happened to appear, they were commonly tossed and extinguished
by the breath of popular opinion. Hence time, like a river, has brought

404 GREA T INSTA URA TION.

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

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

As for those who, neither wedded to their own nor others' opinions,
but continuing friends to liberty, make use of assistance in their
inquiries, the success they met with did not answer expectation, the
attempt, though laudable, being but feeble ; for pursuing only the
probable reasons of things, they were carried about in a circle of
arguments, and taking a promiscuous liberty, preserved not the rigour
of true inquirers ; whilst none of them duly conversed with experience
and things themselves. Others again, who commit themselves to
mechanical experience, yet make their experiments at random, without
any method of inquiry. And the greatest part of these have no
considerable views, but esteem it a great matter if they can make a
single discovery; which is both a trifling and unskilful procedure, as
no one can justly or successfully discover the nature of any one thing
in that thing itself, or without numerous experiments which lead to
farther inquiries. And we must not omit to observe, that all the
industry displayed in experiment has been directed by too indiscreet a

GREA T INS TA URA T/O.V. 405

zeal at some prejudged effect, seeking those which produced fruit
rather than knowledge, in opposition to the Divine method, which on
the first clay created time alone, delaying its material creations until
the sun had illumined space.

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

Upon the whole, men do not hitherto appear to be happily inclined
and lilted fur the sciences, cither by their own industry, or the authority
of authors, especially as there is little dependence to be had upon the
common demonstrations and experiments ; whilst the structure of the
universe renders it a labyrinth to the understanding ; where the paths
are not only everywhere doubtful, but the appearances of things and
their signs deceitful ; and the wreaths and knots of nature intricately
turned and twisted : through all which we are only to be conducted by
the uncertain light of the senses, that sometimes shines, and some
times hides its head ; and by collections of experiments and particular
facts, in which no guides can be trusted, as wanting direction them
selves, and adding to the errors of the rest. In this melancholy state
of things, one might be apt to despair both of the understanding left
to itself, and of all fortuitous helps ; as of a state irremediable by the
utmost efforts of the human genius, or the often-repeated chance of
trial. The only clue and method is to begin all anew, and direct our
steps in a certain order, from the very first perceptions of the senses.
Yet I must not be understood to say that nothing has been done in
former ages, for the ancients have shown themselves worthy nf admira
tion in everything which concerned either wit or abstract reflection ;
but, as in former nges, when men at sea, directing their course solely
by the observation of the stars, might coast along the shores of the
continent, but could not trust themselves to the wide ocean, or discover
new worlds, until the use of the compass was known : even so the
present discoveries referring to matters immediately under the juris
diction of the senses, are such as might easily result from experience
and discussion ; but before we can enter the remote and hidden parts
of nature, it is requisite that a better and more perfect application of
the human mind should be introduced. This, however, is not to be
understood a<? if nothing had been effected by the immense labours of
so many past ages ; as the ancients have performed surprisingly in
subjects that required abstract meditation, and force of genius. But
as navigation was imperfect before the use of the compass, so will
many secrets of nature and art remain undiscovered, without a
more perfect knowledge of the understanding, its uses, and ways of
working.

406 GREAT INSTAU RATION.

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

But as these great things are not at our disposal, we here, at the
entrance of our work, with the utmost humility and fervency, put forth
our prayers to Cod, that remembering the miseries of mankind, and
the pilgrimage of this life, where we pass but few days and sorrowful,
he would vouchsafe, through our hands, and the hands of others, to
whom he has given the like mind, to relieve the human race by a new
act of his bounty. We likewise humbly beseech him, that what is
human may not clash with what is divine : and that when the ways of
the senses are opened, and a greater natural light set up in the mind,
nothingof incredulity and blindness towards divinemysteries may arise ;
but rather that the understanding, now cleared up, and purged of all
vanity and superstition, may remain entirely subject to the divine
oracles, and yield to faith, the things that are faith's : and lastly, that
expelling the poisonous knowledge infused by the serpent, which puffs
up and swells the human mind, we may neither be wise above
measure, nor go beyond the bounds of sobriety, but pursue the truth
in charity.

GRKA T 1NSTA URA TION. 407

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

In the next place, we advise all mankind to think of the true ends
of knowledge, and that they endeavour not after it for curiosity,
contention, or the sake of despising others, nor yet for profit, reputa
tion, power, or any such inferior consideration, but solely for the
occasions and uses of life ; all along conducting and perfecting it in
the spirit of benevolence. Our requests arc, — I. That men do not
conceive we here deliver an opinion, but a work ; and assure them
selves we attempt not to found any sect or particular doctrine, but to
fix an extensive basis for the service of human nature. 2. 'I hat, for
their own sakcs, they lay aside the zeal and prejudices of opinions, and
endeavour the common good ; and that being, by our assistance, freed
and kept clear from the errors and hindcramcs of the way, they would
themselves also lake part of the task. 3. That they do not despair,
as imagining our project for a grand restoration, or advancement of
ail kinds of knowledge, infinitely beyond the power of mortals to
execute ; whilst in reality, it is the genuine stop and prevention of
infinite error. Indeed, as our state is mortal, and human, a full
accomplishment cannot be expected in a single age, and must therefore
be commended to posterity. Nor could we hope to succeed, if we
arrogantly searched for the sciences in the narrow cells of the human
understanding, and nfit submissively in the wider world. 4. In tlic
last place, to prevent ill efiects from contention, we desire mankind to
consider how far they have a right to judge our performance, upon the
foundations here laid down : for we reject all that knowledge which is
too hastily abstracted from things, as vague, disorderly, and ill-formed ;
and we cannot be expected to abide by a judgment which is itself
called in question.

408 GREA T INSTA URA T1ON.

DISTRIBUTION OF THE WORK.

IN SIX TARTS.

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

2. Novum Orgnnum ; or, Precepts for the Interpolation of Nature.

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

to' found Philosophy.

4. Ladder of the Understanding.

5. Precursors, or Anticipators, of the Second Philosophy.

6. Second Philosophy ; or, Active Science.

WE divide the whole of the work into six parts : the first whereof
gives the substance, or general description of the knowledge which
mankind at present possess : choosing to dwell a little upon things
already received, that we may the easier perfect the old, and lead on to
new ; being equally inclined to cultivate the discoveries of antiquity,
as to strike out fresh paths of science. In classing the sciences, we
comprehend not only the things already invented and known, but also
those omitted and wanted ; for the intellectual globe, as well as the
terrestrial, has both its frosts and deserts. It is therefore no wonder
if we sometimes depart from the common divisions. For an addition,
whilst it alters the whole, must necessarily alter the parts, and their
sections ; whereas the received divisions are only fitted to the received
sum of the sciences, as it now stands. With regard to the things we
shall note as defective ; it will be our method to give more than the
bare titles, or short heads of what we desire to have done ; with
particular care, where the dignity or difficulty of the subject requires
it, either to lay down the rules for effecting the work, or make an
attempt of our own, by way of example, or pattern, of the whole. For
it concerns our own character, no less than the advantage of others,
to know that a mere capricious idea has not presented the subject to
our mind, and that all we desire and aim at is a wish. For our designs
are within the power of all to compass, and we ourselves have certain
and evident demonstrations of their utility. We come not hither,
as augurs, to measure out regions in our mind by divination, but like
generals, to invade them for conquest. And this is the first part of the
work.

When we have gone through the ancient arts, we shall prepare the
human understanding for pressing on beyond them. The second
object of the work embraces the doctrine of a more perfect use of
reason, and the true helps of the intellectual faculties, so as to raise
and enlarge the powers of the mind ; and, as far as the condition of
humanity allows, to fit it to conquer the difficulties and obscurities of
nature. The thing we mean, is a kind of logic, by us called The Art
of interpreting Nature ; as differing widely from the common logic,
which, however, pretends to assist and direct the understanding, and

CtiXA T hVSTA L'RA T1ON. 409

in that they agree : but the difference betwixt them consists in three
things, viz., the end, the order of demonstrating, and the grounds of
inquiry.

The end of our new logic is to find, not arguments, but arts ; not
what agrees with principles, but principles themselves : not probable
reasons, but plans and designs of works— a different intention pro
ducing a different effect. In one the adversary is conquered by dispute,
and in the other nature by works. The nature and order of the
demonstrations agree with this object. For in common logic, almost
our whole labour is spent upon the syllogism. Logicians hitherto
appear scarcely to have noticed induction, passing it over with some
slight comment. JJut we reject the syllogistic method as being too
confused, and allowing nature to escape out of our hands. For though
nobody can doubt that those things which agree with the middle term
agree with each other, nevertheless, there is this source of error, that
a syllogism consists of propositions, propositions of words, and words
are but the token and signs of things. Now, if the first notions,
which are, as it were, the soul of words, and the basis of every philo
sophical fabric, are hastily abstracted from things, and vague and not
clearly defined and limited, the whole structure falls to the ground.
We therefore reject the syllogism, and that not only as regards first
principles, to which logicians do not apply them, but also with respect
to intermediate propositions, which the syllogism contrives to manage
in such a way as to render barren in effect, unfit for practice, and
clearly unstated to the active branch of the sciences. Nevertheless, we
would leave to the syllogism, and such celebrated and applauded
demonstrations, their jurisdiction over popular and speculative acts;

while, in everything relating to the nature of things, we make use of

both our major
imluf lion as that form of demonstration uhi. h < •]<> <-s in upon natuie

induction for both our major and minor propositions ; for we consider

and presses on, and, as it were, mixes itself with action. Whence the
common order of demonstrating is absolutely inverted ; for instead of
flying immediately from the senses, and particulars, to generals, as to
certain fixed poles, about which disputes always turn, and deriving
others from these by intermediates, in a short, indeed, but precipitate
manner, fit for controversy, but unlit to close with nature; we con
tinually raise up propositions by degrees, and in the last place,
come to the most general axioms, which are not notional, but well
defined, and what nature allows of, as entering into the very essence
of things.

I5ut the more difficult part of our task consists in the form of induc
tion, and the judgment to be made by it ; for that form of the logicians
which proceeds by simple enumeration, is a childish thing, concludes
unsafely, lies open to contradictory instances, and regards only
common matters ; yet determines nothing : whilst the sciences require
such a form of induction, as can separate, adjust, and verify ex
perience, and come to a necessary determination by proper exclusions
and rejections.

Nor is this all { for we likewise lay the foundations of the sciences

410 GREAT 1NSTAURATION.

stronger and closer, and begin our inquiries deeper than men have
hitherto done, bringing those things to the test which the common
logic has taken upon trust. The logicians borrow the principles of
the sciences from the sciences themselves, venerate the first notions
of the mind, and acquiesce in the immediate informations of the
senses, when rightly disposed ; but we judge, that a real logic should
enter every province of the sciences with a greater authority than
their own principles can give ; and that such supposed principles
should be examined, till they become absolutely clear and certain.
As for first notions of the mind, we suspect all those that the under
standing, left to itself, procures ; nor ever allow them till approved
and authorized by a second judgment. And with respect to the infor
mations of the senses, we have many ways of examining them ; for
the senses are fallacious, though they discover their own errors ; but
these lie near, whilst the means of discovery are remote.

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

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

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

The two former kinds of idols may be extirpated, though with
difficulty ; but this third is insuperable. All that can be done, is to
point them out, and mark, and convict that treacherous faculty of the
mind ; lest when the ancient errors are destroyed, new ones should

GKEA T INS TA UK A T/OM 4 1 1

sprout out from the rankncss of the soil : and, on the other hand, to
establish this for ever, that the understanding can make no judgment
but by induction, and the just form thereof. Whence the doctrine of
purging the understanding requires three kinds of confutations, to fit
it for the investigation of truth ; viz., the confutation of philosophies,
the confutation of demonstrations, and the confutation of the natural
reason. But when these have been completed, and it has been clearly
seen what results are to be expected from the nature of things, and the
nature of the human mind, we shall have then furnished a nuptial
couch for the mind and the universe, the divine goodness being our
bridemaid. And let it be the prayer of our Kpithalamium, that
assistance to man may spring from this union, and a race of dis
coveries, which wiH contribute to his wants and vanquish his miseries.
And this is the second part of the work.

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

But the conduct of mankind has hitherto been such, that it is no
wonder nature has not opened herself to them. For the information
of the senses is treacherous and deceitful ; observation careless,
irregular, and accidental ; tradition idle, rumorous, and vain ; practice
narrow and servile ; experience blind, stupid, vague, and broken ; and
natural history extremely light and empty : wretched materials for the
understanding to fashion into philosophy and the sciences ! Then
comes in a preposterous subtilty of argumentation and sifting, as a
last remedy, that mends not the matter one jot, nor separates the
errors. Whence there are absolutely no hopes of enlarging and
promoting the sciences, without rebuilding them.

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

Our natural history is not designed so much to please by its variety,
or benefit by gainful cxj>erimcnts, as to afford light to the discovery of
causes, and hold out the breasts to philosophy ; for though we princi
pally regard works and the active parts of the sciences, yet we wait for

4i2 GREA T IttSTA VRA T1ON.

the time of harvest, and would not reap the blade for the ear. . We are
well aware that axioms, rightly framed, will draw after them whole
sheaves of works : but for that untimely and childish desire of seeing
fruits of new works before the season, we absolutely condemn and
reject it, as the golden apple that hinders the progress.

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

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

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

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

GREA T 1NSTA URA TIOX. 4 1 3

After the understanding has been thus aided and fortified, we shall
be prepared to enter upon philosophy itself. But in so difficult a task,
there arc certain things to be observed, as well for instruction as for
present use. The first is to propose examples of inquiry and investi
gation, according to our own method, in certain subjects of the noblest
kind, but greatly differing from each other, that a specimen may be
had of every sort. By these examples we mean not illustrations of
rules and precepts, but perfect models, which will exemplify the second
part of this work, and represent, as it were, to the eye, the whole
progress of the mind, and the continued structure and order of inven
tion, in the most chosen subjects, after the same manner as globes and
machines facilitate the more abstruse and subtile demonstrations in
mathematics. We assign the fourth part of our work to these
examples, which arc nothing else than a particular application of the
second part of our undertaking.

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

The sixth and last part of our work, to which all the rest arc sub
servient, is to lay down that philosophy which shall flow from the just,
pure, and strict inquiry hitherto proposed. But to perfect this, is
beyond both our abilities and our hopes, yet we shall lay the founda
tions of it, and recommend the superstructure to posterity. We
design no contemptible beginning to the work ; and anticipate that
the fortune of mankind will lead it to such a termination as is not
possible for the present race of men to conceive. '1 he point in view
is not only the contemplative happiness, but the whole fortunes, and
affairs, and powers, and works of men. For man being the minister
and interpreter of nature, acts and understands so far as he has
observed of the order, the works and mind of nature, and can proceed

4 f4 GREA T INSTA URA TION,

no farther ; for no power is able to loose or break the chain of causes,
nor is nature to be conquered but by submission : whence those twin
intentions, human knowledge and human power, are really coincident ;
and the greatest hinderance to works is the ignorance of causes.

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

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

THE WISDOM OF
Till-: ANCIENTS.

THE PREFACE.

THE earliest antiquity lies buried in silence and oblivion, excepting tlie remains
•*• we have of it in sacred writ. This silence was succeeded by poetical fables,
and these, at length, by the writings we now enjoy ; so that the concealed and
seen- 1 learning of the ancients seems separated from the history and knowledge of
the following ages by a veil, or partition-wall of fables, interposing between the
things that are lost and tho^c that remain.

Many may imagine that I am here entering upon a work of fancy, or amuse
ment, and design to use a poetical liberty, in explaining poetical fables. It is true,
fables in general are composed of ductile matter, that may be drawn into great
variety by a witty talent or an inventive genius, and be delivered of plausible
meanings which they never contained. But this procedure has already been carried
to excess ; and great numbers, to procure the sanction of antiquity to thdr own
notions and inventions, have miserably wrested and abused the fables of the
pncients.

Nor is this only a late or unfrequcnt practice, but of ancient date, and common
rven to this day. Thus Chrvsippus, like an interpreter of dreams, attributed the
opinions of the Stoics to the poets of old ; and the chemists, at present, more
childishly apply the poetical transformations to their experiments of the furnace.
And though 1 have well weighed and considered all this, and thoroughly seen into
tlie levity which the mind indulges for allegories and allu -ions, yet I cannot but
retain a high value for the ancient mythology. And, certainly, it were \ery inju-
u.cious to suffer the fondness and licentiousness of a few to detract from the
tii<nour of allegory and parable in general. This would be rash, and almost pro-
f, -ie ; for, since religion ddight in such shadows and disguises, to abolish them
*ne, in a manner, to prohibit a ' intercourse bcttuxl things divine and human.

Upon deliberate consideration, my judgment is, that a concealed instruction
aud allegory was originally intended in many of the ancient fables. This opinion
may, in some respect, be owing to the veneration I have for antiquity, but more to
observing that some fables discover a great and evident similitude, relation, and
connection with the thing they signify, as well in the structure of the fable as in
th«; propriety of the names whereby the persons or actors aic characterized ; inso
much, that no one could positively deny a sense and meaning to be from the first
intended, and purposely shadowed out in them, i-'or who can hear that Fame,
after the giants were destroyed, sprung up ;is their posthumous sister, and not
apply it to the clamour of parties and the seditious rumours which commonly fly
aiMJiit for a time upon the quelling of insurrections? Or who can read how the
giant Typhon cut out and carried away Jupiter's sinews -which Mercury afterwards
stole and again restored to Jupiter- and not presently observe that this allegory
denotes strong and powerful rebellions, which cut away from kings their sinews,
both of money and authority ; and that the way to have them restored is by lenity,
affability, and prudent edicts, which soon reconcile, and as it were steal upon the
affections of the subject? Or who, upon hearing that memorable expedition of

416 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

the gods against the giants, when the braying of Silenus's ass greatly contributed
in putting the giants to flight, does not clearly conceive that this directly points at
the monstrous enterprises of rebellious subjects, which are frequently frustrated
and disappointed by vain fears and empty rumours?

Again, the conformity and purport of the names is frequently manifest and
self-evident. Thus Metis, the wife of Jupiter, plainly signifies counsel ; Typhon,
swelling ; Fan, universality ; Nemesis, revenge, &c. Nor is it a wonder, if some
times a piece of history or other things are introduced, by way of ornament ; or if
the times of the action are confounded ; or if part of one fable be tacked to
another ; or if the allegory be new turned ; for all this must necessarily happen, as
the fables were the inventions of men who lived in different ages and had different
views ; some of them being ancient, others more modern ; some having an eye to
natural philosophy, and others to morality or civil policy.

It may pass for a farther indication of a concealed and secret meaning, that
some of these fables are so absurd and idle in their narration as to show and pro-
claim an allegory, even afar off. A fable that carries probability with it may be
supposed invented for pleasure, or in imitation of history ; but those that could
never be conceived or related in this way must surely have a different use. For
example, what a monstrous fiction is this, that Jupiter should take Metis to wife,
and as soon as he found her pregnant cat her up, whereby he also conceived, and
out of his head brought forth Pallas armed. Certainly no mortal could, but for
the sake of the moral it couches, invent such an absurd dream as this, so much out
of the road of thought !

But the argument of most weight with me is this, that many of these fables by
no means appear to have been invented by the persons who relate and divulge
them, whether Homer, Hesiod, or others ; for if I were assured they first flowed
from those later times and authors that transmit them to us, I should never expect
anything singularly great or noble from such an origin. Hut whoever attentively
considers the thing, will find that thete fables are delivered down and related by
those writers, not as matters then first invented and proposed, but as things
received and embraced in earlier ages. Besides, as they are differently related by
writersnearlyofthesameages.it is easily perceived that the relators drew from
the common stock of ancient tradition, and varied but in point of embellishment,
which is their own. And this principally raises my esteem of these fables, which I
receive, not as the product of the age, or invention of the poets, but as sacred
relics, gentle whispers, and the breath of better times, that from the traditions of
more ancient nations came, at length, into the flutes and trumpets of the Greeks.
But if any one shall, notwithstanding this, contend that allegories are always
adventitious, or imposed upon the ancient fables, and no way native or genuinely
contained in them, we might here leave him undisturbed in that gravity of judg'-
ment he affects (though we cannot help accounting it somewhat dull and phleg
matic), and if it were worth the trouble, proceed to another kind of argument.

Men have proposed to answer two different and contrary ends by the use of
parable ; for parables serve as well to instruct or illustrate as to wrap up and
envelop, so that though, for the present, we drop the concealed use, and suppcv ••••.
the ancient fables to be vague, undeterminate things, formed for amusement, still
the other use must remain, and can never be given up. And every man, of any
learning, must readily allow that this method of instructing is grave, sober, or
exceedingly useful, and sometimes necessary in the sciences, as it opens an ea^y
and familiar passage to the human understanding, in all new discoveries that
are abstruse and out of the road of vulgar opinions. Hence, in the first ages,
when such inventions and conclusions of the human reason as are now trite and
common were new and little known, all things abounded with fables, parables,
similes, comparisons, and allusions, which were not intended to conceal, but to
inform and teach, whilst the minds of men continued rude and unpractised in
matters of subtilty and speculation, or even impatient, and in a manner uncapable
of receiving such things as did not directly fall under and strike the senses. For
as hieroglyphics were in use before writing, so ware parables in use before argu-

WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 41 7

ments. And even to this day, if any m.in would let new light in upon the humin
understanding, and conquer prejudice, without raising contests, animosities, oppo
sition, or disturbance, he must still go in the same path, and have recourse to the
like method of allegory, metaphor, and allusion.

To conclude, the knowledge of the early ages was cither great or happy; great,
if they by design made this use of trope and figure ; happy, if, whilst they had
other \ie\vs, they afforded matter and occasion to such noble contemplations. Let
cither be the case, our pains, perhaps, will not be misemployed, whether we illus*
trate antiquity or things themselves.

Th«» like has b'f»n attempted by others ; but to speak ingenuously, their great
and voluminous labours have almost destroyed the energy, the efficacy, and grace
of the tiling, whilst, lieing unskilled in nature, and their learning no more than that
of common-place, they have applied the sense of the parables to certain general
and vulgar n~.alterr;, without retching to their real purport, genuine interpretation,
and full depth. For myself, therefore, I expect to appear new in these common
things, because, leaving untouched such as are sufficiently plain and open, 1 ihall
drive only at tho»e that arc cither deep or rich.

I.— THE FABLE OF CCELUM.

EXPLAINED OF THE CREATION, OR ORIGIN OF ALL THINGS.

THE poets relate that Cerium was the most ancient of all the gods;
that his parts of generation were cut off by his son Saturn; that
Saturn had a numerous offspring, but devoured all his sons, as soon
a. they were born; that Jupiter at length escaped the common
fate ; and when grown up, drove Iris father Saturn into Tartarns ;
usurped the kingdom ; cut off his father's genitals, with the same knife
wherewith Saturn had dismembered Ccclum, and throwing them into
the sea, thence sprung Venus.

Before Jupiter was well established in his empire, two memorable
wars were made upon him : the first by the Titans, in subduing of
whom, Sol, the only one of the Titans who favoured Jupiter, per
formed him singular service ; the second by the giants, whom being
destroyed and subdued by the thunder r.nd arms of Jupiter, he now
reigned secure.

EXPLANATION.— This fable appears to be an enigmatical account
of the origin of all things, not greatly differing from the philosophy
afterwards embraced by Dcmocritus, who expressly asserts the eter
nity of matter, but denies the eternity of the world ; thereby appro
ing to the truth of sacred writ, which makes chaos, or uninformed
matter, to exist before the six days' works.

The meaning of the fable seems to be this : Ccelum denote;
concave space, or vaulted root that incloses all matter, and Saturn
the matter itself, which cuts off all power of generation from his father ;
as one and the same quantity of matter remains invariable in n ire,

27

4i8 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

without addition or diminution.* But the agitations and struggling
motions of matter first produced certain imperfect and ill-joined com
positions of things, as it were so many first rudiments, or essays of
worlds ; till, in process of time, there arose a fabric capable of pre
serving its form and structure. Whence the first age was shadowed
out by the reign of Saturn ; who, on account of the frequent dissolu
tions and short durations of things, was said to devour his children.
And the second age was denoted by the reign of Jupiter ; who thrust
or drove those frequent and transitory changes into Tartarus — a place
expressive of disorder. This place seems to be the middle space,
between the lower heavens and the internal parts of the earth, wherein
disorder, imperfection, mutation, mortality, destruction, and corrup
tion, are principally found.

Venus was not born during the former generation of things, under
the reign of Saturn ; for whilst discord and jar had the upper hand
of concord and uniformity in the matter of the universe, a change of
the entire structure was necessary. And in this manner things were
generated and destroyed before Saturn was dismembered. But when
this matter of generation ceased,f there immediately followed another,
brought about by Venus, or a perfect and established harmony of
things ; whereby changes were wrought in the parts, whilst the uni
versal fabric remained entire and undisturbed. Saturn, however, is
said to be thrust out and dethroned, not killed, and become extinct;
because, agreeably to the opinion of Democritus, the world might
relapse into its old confusion and disorder, which Lucretius hoped
would not happen in his time.*

But now, when the world was compact, and held together by its
own bulk and energy, yet there was no rest from the beginning ; for,
first, there followed considerable motions and disturbances in the
celestial regions, though so regulated and moderated by the power
of the Sun, prevailing over the heavenly bodies, as to continue the
world in its state. Afterwards there followed the like in the lower
parts, by inundations, storms, winds, general earthquakes, etc., which,
however, being subdued and kept under, there ensued a more peace
able and lasting harmony, and consent of things.

It may be said of this fable, that it includes philosophy ; and
again, that philosophy includes the fable; for we know, by faith, that
all these things are but the oracle of sense, long since ceased and
decayed ; but the matter and fabric of the world being justly attributed
t j a creator.

* The original quantity of matter renr<aining invariably the same, explains that
circumstance in the fable of the same knife being used for the dismembering of
Saturn as had before been used for the dismembering of Coclum.

t Viz., when Jupiter possessed the throne; or after a durable world was
forn.ed. Let the figurative or personifying manner of expression, usual among
the poets, be all along considered.

\ " Quod procul a nobis fiectat Fortuna gubernans ;
Et ratio potius quam res persuadeat ipsa."

WISDOM or THE AXCIEXTS. 419

II.-THE FABLE OF PROMETHEUS.

EXPLAINED OF AN OVKR-RULING PROVIDENCE, AND OF HUMAN
NATURE.

TIIF. ancients relate that man was the work of Prometheus, and
formed of clay ; only the artificer mixed in with the mass particles
Uiken from different animals. And being desirous to improve his
workmanship, and endow, as well as create, tho human race, he stole
up to heaven uith a bundle of birch-rods, and kindling them at the
chariot of the Sun, thence brought down fire to the earth for the ser
vice of men.

They add, that for this meritorious art Prometheus was rcpayed
\vith ingratitude by mankind, so that, forming a conspiracy, they
arraigned buth him and his invention l>efore Jupiter. Hut the matter
was otherwise received than they imagined ; for the accusation proved
extremely giatcful to Jupiter and the gods, insomuch that, delighted
with the action, they not only indulged mankind the use of tire, but
moreover conferred upon them a most acceptable and desirable pre
sent, viz., pcrpeiual youth.

I3ut men, foolishly overjoyed hereat, laid this present of the gods
upon an ass, who, in returning back with it, being extremely thirsty,
strayed to a fountain. The serpent, who was guardian thereof, would
not suffer him to drink, but upon condition of receiving the burden he
carried, whatever it should be. The silly ass complied, and thus the
perpetual renewal of youth was, for a drop of water, transfeircd from
men to the race of serpents.

Prometheus, not desisting from his unwarrantable practices, though
now reconciled to mankind, after they were thus tricked of their pre
sent, but still continuing inveterate against Jupiter, had the boldness to
attempt deceit, even in a sacrifice, and is said to have once offered up
two bulls to Jupiter, but so as in the hide of one of them to wrap all
the flrsh and fat of both, and stuffing out the other hide only with the
bones; then in a religious and devout manner gave Jupiter his choice
of the two. Jupiter, detesting this sly fraud and hypocrisy, but having
thus an opportunity of punishing the offender, purposely chose the
mock bull.

And now giving way to revenge, but finding he could not chastise
the insolence of Prometheus without afflicting the human race (in the
production whereof Prometheus had strangely and insufferably prided
himself), he commanded Vulcan to form a beautiful and graceful
woman, to whom every god presented a certain gift, whence she was
called Pandora.* They put into her hands an elegant box, contain
ing all sorts of miseries and misfortunes ; but HOJHJ was placed at the
bottom of it. With this box she Hrst goes to Prometheus, to try if
she could prevail upon him to receive and open it ; but he, being

• A* if it were all gift.

420 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

upon his guard, warily refused the offer. Upon this refusal she conies
to his brother Epimetheus, a man of a very different temper, who
rashly and inconsiderately opens the box. When finding all kinds oi
»niseries and misfortunes issued out of it, he grew wise too late, and
with great hurry and struggle endeavoured to clap the cover on
again ; but with all his endeavour could scarce keep in Hope, which
lay at the bottom.

Lastly, Jupiter arraigned Prometheus of many heinouc: crimes : as
that he formerly stole tire from heaven ; that he contemptuously and
deceitfully mocked him by a sacrifice of bones ; that he despised his
present,* adding withal a new crime, that he attempted to ravish
Pallas : for all which, he was sentenced to be bound in chains, and
doomed to perpetual torments. Accordingly, by Jupiter's command,
he was brought to Mount Caucasus, and there fastened to a pillar,
so firmly that he could no way stir. A vulture or eagle stood by him,
which in the daytime gnawed and consumed his liver ; but in the night
the wasted parts were supplied again ; whence matter for his pain was
never wanting.

They relate, however, that his punishment had an end; for Hercules
sailing the ocean, in a cup, or pitcher, presented him by the Sun, came
at length to Caucasus, shot the eagle with his arrows, and set Pro
metheus free. In certain nations, also, there were instituted particular
games of the torch, to the honour of Prometheus, in which they who
ran for the prize carried lighted torches ; and as any OPC of these
torches happened to go out, the beaier withdrew himself, and gave
way to the next ; and that person was allowed to win the prize who
first brought in his lighted torch to the goal.

EXPLANATION. — This fable contains and enforces many just and
serious considerations ; some whereof have teen long since well
observed, but some again remain perfectly untouched. Prometheus
clearly and expressly signifies Providence ; for of all the things in
nature, the formation and endowment of man was singled out by the
ancients, and esteemed the peculiar work of Providence. The reason
hereof seems, r. That the nature of man includes a mind and under
standing, which 5s the seat of Providence. 2. That it is harsh and
incredible to suppose reason and mind should be raised, and drawn
out of senseless and irrational principles; whence it becomes almost
inevitable, that providence is implanted in the human mind in con-
forrrp.ty v/ilh, and by the direction and the design of the greater over
ruling Providence. But, 3. The principal cause is this : that man
seems to be the thing in which the whole world centres, with respect
to final causes ; so that if he were away, all other things would stray
and fluctuate, without end or intention, or become perfectly disjointed,
and out of frame ; for all things are made subservient to man, and he
receives use and benefit from them all. Thus the revolutions, places,
and periods, of the celestial bodies, serve him for distinguishing times

• Viz., that by Pandora.

WISDOM OF THE ANC/r.KTS. 421

and seasons, and for dividing the world into different regions ; the
meteors afford him prognostications of the weather ; the winds sail
our ships, drive our mills, and move our machines ; and the vege
tables and animals of all kinds either afford us matter for houses and
habitations, clothing, food, physic, or tend to ease, or delight, to sup
port, or refresh us : so that everything in nature seems not made for
itself, but for man.

And it is not without reason added, that the mass of matter
whereof man was formed, should bo mixed up with particles taken
from different animals, ami wrought in with the clay, because it i^
ceitain, that of nil things in the universe, man is the most compounded
and rccompounded body ; so that the ancients not improperly styled
him a Microcosm, or little world within himself. Ftxr although the
chemists have absurdly, and too literally, wrested and perverted the
elegance of the term microcosm, whilst they pretend to find all kind
of mineral and vegetable matters, or something corresponding to
them, in man, yet it remains firm and unshaken, that the human body
is of all substances the most mixed and organical ; whence it has sur
prising powers and faculties : for the powers of simple bodies arc but
lew, though certain and quick ; as being little broken, or weakened,
and not counterbalanced by mixture : but excellence and quantity of
energy reside in mixture and composition.

Man, however, in his first origin, seems to be a defenceless naked
creature, slow in assisting himself, and standing in need of numerous
things. Prometheus, therefore, hastened to the invention of fire, which
supplies and administers to nearly all human uses and necessities,
insomuch that, if the soul may be called the form of forms, if the
J.and may be called the instrument of instruments, fire may, as pro-
uerly, be called the assistant of assistants, or the helper of helps ; for
lu:ncc proceed numberless operations, hence all the mechanic arts, and
hence infinite assistances arc afforded to the sciences themselves.

The manner wherein Prometheus stole this lire is properly descril>cd
ft'cm the nature of the thing ; he being said to have done it by apply
ing a rod of birch to the chariot of the Sun : for birch is used in
Lt. \king and beating, which clearly denotes the generation of fire to be
front the violent percussions and collisions of bodies ; whereby the
r.iaucrs struck arc subtilized, rarefied, put into motion, and so prepared
to tcceivc the heat of the celestial bodies; whence they, in a clandes
tine and secret manner, collect and snatch fire, as it were by stealth,
from the chariot of the Sun.

The next is a remarkable part of the fable, which represents that
men, instead of gratitude and thanks, fell into indignation and expos
tulation, accusing both Prometheus and his fire to Jupiter, — and yet
the accusation proved highly pleasing to Jupiter ; so that he, for this
reason, crowned these benefits of mankind with a new bounty. Here
it may seem strange that the sin of ingratitude to a creator and bene
factor, a sin so heinous as to include almost all others, should meet
with approbation and reward. Hut the allegory has another view, and
denotes, that the accusation and arraignment, both of human nature

422 WISDOM OF THE ANGTENTS.

and human art among mankind, proceeds from a most noble and
laudable temper of the mind, and tends to a very good purpose ;
whereas the contrary temper is odious to the gods, and unbeneficial in
itself. For they who break into extravagant praises of human nature,
and the arts in vogue, and who lay themselves out in admiring the
things they already possess, and will needs have the sciences culti
vated among them, to be thought absolutely perfect and complete, in
the first place, show little regard to the divine nature, whilst they extol
their own inventions almost as high as his perfection. In the next
place, men of this temper are unserviceable and prejudicial in life,
whilst they imagine themselves already got to the top of tilings, and
there rest, without farther inquiry. On the contrary, tliey who arraign
and accuse both nature and art, and are always full of complaints
against them, not only preserve a more just and modest sense of mind,
but are also perpetually stirred up to fresh industry and new dis
coveries. Is not, then, the ignorance and fatality of mankind to be
extremely pitied, whilst they remain slaves to the arrogance of a few
of their own fellows, and arc dotingly fond of that scrap of Grecian
knowledge, the Peripatetic philosophy; and this to such a degree, as
not only to think all accusation or arraignment thereof useless, but
even hold it suspect and dangerous ? Certainly the procedure of
Empedocles, though furious — but especially that of Democritus (who
with great modesty complained that all things were abstruse ; that we
know nothing; that truth lies hid in deep pits ; that falsehood is
strangely joined and twisted along with truth, &c.) — is to be preferred
before the confident, assuming, and dogmatical school of Aristotle.
Mankind are, therefore, to be admonished, that the arraignment of
nature and of art is pleasing to the gods ; and that a sharp and vehe
ment accusation of Prometheus, though a creator, a founder, and a
master, obtained new blessings and presents from the divine bounty,
and proved more sound and serviceable than a diffusive harangue cv
praise and gratulation. And let men be assured, that the fond opinion
that they have already acquired enough, is a principal reason why
they have acquired so little.

That the perpetual flower of youth should be the present which
mankind received as a reward for their accusation, carries this moral :
that the ancients seem not to have despaired of discovering methods,
and remedies, for retarding old age, and prolonging the period of
human life, but rather reckoned it among those things which, through
sloth and want of diligent inquiry, perish and come to nothing, after
having been once undertaken, than among such as are absolutely im
possible, or placed beyond the reach of the human power. For they
signify and intimate from the true use of fire, and the just and strenu
ous accusation and conviction of the errors of art, that the divine
bounty is not wanting to men in such kind of presents, but that men
indeed are wanting to themselves, and lay such an inestimable gift upon
the back of a slow-paced ass ; that is, upon the back of the heavy,
dull, lingering thing, experience ; from whose sluggish and tortoise-
pace proceeds that ancient complaint of the shortness of life, and the

WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 423

slow advancement of arts. And certainly it m:».y well seem, that the
i we faculties of reasoning and experience are not hitheito properly
j >ined and coupled together, but to be still new ;-ifis of the gods, sepa
rately laid, the one upon the back of a light bird, or abstract philo.
sophy, and the other upon an a.ss, or slow. paced practice and trial.
And yet good hopes might be conceived of this ass. if it were not for
his thirst and the accidents of the way. For we judge, that if any one
would constantly proceed, by a certain law and method, in the road o(
experience, and not bv the way thirst after s ich experiments as make
for profit or ostentation, nor exchange his burden, or rjuit the orii'.ina'
design for the sake of these, he might be an useful l>ean-r of a new and
accumulated divine bounty to mankind.

That this gift of perpetual youth should pass from men to serpents,
seems added by way of ornament, and illustration to the fable ; per
haps intimating, at the same time, the shame it is for men, that they
with their lire, and numerous arts, cannot procure to themselves thcvc
things which nature has bestowed upon many other creatures.

The sudden reconciliation of Prometheus to mankind, after being
disappointed of their hopes, contains a prudent and useful admonition.
It points out the levity and temerity of men in new cxj>crimcnts, when,
not presently succeeding, or answering to expectation, they prccipi-
tantly quit their new undertakings, hurry back to their old ones, anil
grow reconciled thereto.

After the fable has described the state or man, with regard to arts
and intellectual matters, it passes on to religion; for after the inventing
and settling of arts, follows the establishment of divine woiship, which
hypocrisy presently enters into and corrupts. So that by the two
sacriticcs we have elegantly painted the person of a man truly religious,
and of an hypocrite. One of these sacriticcs contained the fat, or the
portion of God, used for burning and incensing ; thereby denoting
nfTrction and zeal, offered up to his glory. It likewise contained the
bowels, which are expressive of charity, along with the good and use
ful flesh. But the other contained 'nothing more than dry bones,
which nevertheless stuffed out the hide, so as to make it resemble a
fair, beautiful, and magnificent sacrifice ; hereby finely denoting the
external and empty rites and barren ceremonies, wherewith men bur
den and stufTout the divine worship, — things rather intended for show
and ostentation than conducing to piety : — Nor arc mankind simply
content with this mock-worship of God, but also impose and father it
upon him, as if he had chosen and ordained it. Certainly the prophet,
in the person of God, has a fine expostulation, as to this matter of
choice :— " Is this the fasting which 1 have chosen, that a man should
afflict his soul for a day, and bow down his head like a bulrush?"

After thus touching the state of religion, the fable next turns to
manners, and the conditions of human life. And though it be a very
common, yet is it a just interpretation, that 1'andora denotes the plea
sures and licentiousness which the cultivation and luxury of the arts of
civil life introduce, as it were, by the instrumental efficacy of fire ;
whence the work of the voluptuary arts arc properly attributed to

424 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

Vulcan, the God of Fire. And hence infinite miseries and calamities
have proceeded to the minds, the bodies, and the fortunes of men,
together with a late repentance ; and this not only in each man's par
ticular, but also in kingdoms and states ; for wars, and tumults, and
tyrannies, have all arisen from this same fountain, or box of Pandora.

It is worth observing, how beautifully and elegantly the fable has
drawn two reigning characters in human life, and given two examples,
or tablatures of them, under the persons of Prometheus and Epiine-
theus. The followers of Epimetheus are improvident, see not far
before them, and prefer such things as are agreeable for the present ;
whence they are oppressed with numerous straits, difficulties, and cala
mities, with which they almost continually struggle ; but in the mean
time gratify their own temper, and, for want of a better knowledge of
things, feed their minds with many vain hopes ; and as with so many
pleasing dreams, delight themselves, and sweeten the miseries of life.

But the followers of Prometheus are the prudent, wary men, that
lock into futurity, and cautiously guard against, prevent, and under
mine many calamities and misfortunes. But this watchful, provident
temper, is attended with a deprivation of numerous pleasures, and the
loss of various delights, whilst such men debar themselves the use
even of innocent things, and what is still worse, rack and torture them
selves with cares, fears, and disquiets ; being bound fast to the pillar
of necessity, and tormented with numberless thoughts (\\hich for their
swiftness are well compared to an eagle), that continually wound, tear,
and gnaw their liver or mind, unless, perhaps, they find some small
remission by intervals, or as it were at nights; but then new anxieties,
dreads, and fears, soon return again, as it were in the morning. And,
therefore, very few men, of either temper, have secured to themselves
the advantages of providence, and kept clear of disquiets, troubles,
and misfortunes.

Nor indeed can any man obtain this end without the assistance of
Hercules ; that is, of such fortitude and constancy of mind as stands
prepared against every event, and remains indifferent to every change ;
looking forward without being daunted, enjoying the good without dis
dain, and enduring the bad without impatience. And it must be ob
served, that even Prometheus had not the power to free himself, but
owed his deliverance to another ; for no natural inbred force and forti
tude could prove equal to such a task. The power of releasing hirn
came from the utmost confines of the ocean, and from the sun : that
is, from Apollo, or knowledge ; and again, from a due consideration of
the uncertainty, instability, and fluctuating state of human life, which
is aptly represented by sailing the ocean. Accordingly, Virgil has pru
dently joined these two together, accounting him happy who knows
the causes of things, and has conquered all his fears, apprehensions,
and superstitions.*

* " Felix qui potuit rcmm cognoscere crmsas,
Ouique metus omnes et inexorabile fatuin
imbjetit pedibus, strepitumque Acheiontis avari."

WISDO.U OF THE ANCIENTS. 425

It is added, with great elegance, for supporting and confirming the
human mind, that the great hero who thus delivered him sailed the
ocean in a cup, or pitcher, to prevent fear, or complaint ; as if, through
the narrowness of our nature, or a too great fragility thereof, we were
absolutely incapable of that fortitude and constancy to which Seneca
finely alludes, when he says, " It is a noble thing, at once to participate
in the fiailty of man and the security of a god."

\Ve have hitherto, that we might not break the connection of things,
designedly omitted the last crime of Prometheus— that of attempting
the chastity of Minerva — which heinous offence it doubtless was, that
caused the punishment of having his liver gnawed by the vulture. The
meaning seems to be this, — that when men are pulled up with arts and
knowledge, they otten try to subdue even the divine wisdom and bring
it Mnder the dominion of sense and reason, whence inevitably follows
a perpetual and restless rending and tearing of the mind. A sober and
humble distinction must, therefore, be made betwixt divine and human
things, and betwixt the oracles of sense and faith, unless mankind had
rather choose an heretical religion, and a fictitious and romantic philo
sophy.*

The last particular in the fable is the Games of the Torch, insti
tuted to Prometheus, which again relates to arts and sciences, as well
as the invention of fire, for the commemoration and celebration
whereof these games were held. And here we have an extremely pru
dent admonition, directing us to expect the perfection of the sciences
from succession, and not from the swiftness and abilities of any single
person ; for he who is fleetest and strongest in the course may perhaps
be less fit to keep his torch a-light, since there is danger of its going
out from too rapid as well as from too slow a motion. l>ut this kind
of contest, with the torch, seems to ha\c been long dropped and
neglected ; the sciences appearing to have flourished principally in
their first authors, as Aristotle, (inlcn, Kuclid, Ptolemy, &c. ; whilst
their successors have done very little, or scarce made any attempts.
l>ut it were highly to be wished that tl-esc games might be renewed,
to the honour of Prometheus, or human nature, and that they might
excite content, emulation, and laudable endeavours, and the design
meet with such success as not to hang tottering, tremulous, and
h:\zrmlcd, upon the torch of any single person. Mankind, therefore,
r-hould be admonished to rouse themselves, and try and exert their own
r.trength and chance, and not place all their dependence upon a few
ir.cn, whose abilities and capacities, perhaps, are not greater than
tlvir own.

Those are the particulars which appear to us shadowed out by
this trite and vulgar fable, though without denying that there may
be contained in it several intimations that have a surprising corres
pondence with the Christian mysteries. In particular, the voyage of
Hercules, made in a pitcher, to release Prometheus, bears an allusion

• See, Dt A H^mcHtlt Scitntiarum, see. xxviii. nnd supj>lem. xv.

426 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

to the word of God, coming in the frail vessel of the flesh to redeem
mankind. But we indulge ourselves no such liberties as these, for
fear of using strange fire at the altar of the Lord.

III.— THE FABLE OF ORPHEUS.

EXPLAINED OF NATURAL AND MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

INTRODUCTION. — The fable of Orpheus, though trite and common,
has never been well interpreted, and seems to hold out a picture of
universal philosophy ; for to this sense may be easily transferred \\hat
is said of his being a wonderful and perfectly divine person, skilled m
all kinds of harmony, subduing and drawing all things after him by
sweet and gentle methods and modulations. For the labours of
Orpheus exceed the labours of Hercules, both in power and dignity, as
the works of knowledge exceed the works of strength.

FABLE.— Orpheus having his beloved wife snatched from him by
sudden death, resolved upon descending to the infernal regions, to try
if, by the power of his harp, he could reobtain her. And, in effect, he
so appeased and soothed the infernal powers by the melody and sweet
ness of his harp and voice, that they indulged him the liberty of taking
her back, on condition that she should follow him behind, and he not
turn to look upon her till they came into open day; but he, through the
impatience of his care and affection, and thinking himself almost past
danger, at length looked behind him, whereby the condition was
violated, and she again precipitated to Pluto's regions. From this time
Orpheus grew pensive and sad, a hater of the sex, and went into soli
tude, where, by the same sweetness of his harp and voice, he first drew
the wild beasts of all sorts about him; so that, forgetting their natures,
they were neither actuated by revenge, cruelty, lust, hunger, or the
desire of prey, but stood gazing about him in a tame and gentle
manner, listening attentively to his music. Nay, so great was the
power and efficacy of his harmony, that it even caused the trees and
stones to remove, and place themselves in a regular manner about him.
When he had for a time, and with great admiration, continued to do
this, at length the Thracian women, raised by the instigation of Bacchus,
first blew a deep and hoarse-sounding horn in such an outrageous
manner, that it quite drowned the music of Orpheus. And thus tha
power which, as the link of their society, held all things in order, being
dissolved, disturbance reigned anew ; each creature returned to its
own nature, and pursued and preyed upon its fellow, as before. The
rocks and woods also started back to their former places ; and even
Orpheus himself was at last torn to pieces by these female furies, and

WISDOM OF THE AXCIENTS. 427

liis limbs scattered all over the desert. But in sorrow and revenge for
his death, the river Helicon, sacred to the Muses, hid its water under
ground, and rose again in other places.

EXPLANATION. — The fable receives this explanation. The music
of Orpheus is of two kinds ; cnc tint appeases the infernal powers,
and the other that draws together the \\ild beasts and trees. The
former properly relates to natural, and the latter to moral, philosophy,
or civil society. The reinstatement and restoration of corruptible
things is the noblest woik of natural philosophy ; and, in a less decree,
the pieservation of bodies in their own state, or a prevention of their
dissolution and corruption. And if this be possible, il can certainly be
effected no other way than by proper and exquisite attempcrations of
nature ; as it were by the harmony and fine touching of the harp. Hut
as «.h's is a thing of exceeding great difficulty, the end is seldom ob
tained ; and that, probably, for no reason more than a curious and
unseasonable impatience and solicitude.

And, therefore, philosophy being almost unequal to the task, has
cause »o grow sad, and hence betakes itself to human affairs, insinuating
into men's minds the love of virtue, equity, and peace, by means of
eloquence and persuasion ; thus forming men into societies, bringing
them under laws and regulations, and making them forget their un
bridled passions and affections, so long as they hearken to precepts
and submit to discipline. And thus they soon after build themselves
habitations, form cities, cultivate lands, plant orchards, gardens, etc.
So that they may not improperly be said to remove and call the trees
and stones together.

And this rcga-d to civil affairs is justly and regularly placed after
diligent trial made for restoring the mortal body ; the attempt being
frustrated in the end, because the unavoidable necessity of death, thus
evidently laid before mankind, animates them to seek a kind of eternity
by works of perpetuity, character, and fame.

It is also prudently added, that Orpheus was afterwards averse to
women and wedlock, because the indulgence of a married state, and
the natural affections which men have for their children, often prevent
them from entering upon any grand, noble, or meritorious enterprise
for the public good ; as thinking it sufficient to obtain immortality by
their descendants, without endeavouring at j.rcat actions.

And even the works of knowledge, though the most excellent
among human things, have their periods ; for after kingdoms and
commonwealths have nourished fora time, disturbances, seditions, and
wars often arise, in the din whereof, first the laws arc silent, and not
heard ; and then men return to their own depraved natures, whence
cultivated lands and cities soon become desolate and waste. And if
this disorder continues, learning and philosophy is infallibly torn to
pieces ; so that only some scattered fragments thereof can afterwards
be found up and down, in a few places, like planks after a shipwrcrk.
And barbarous times succeeding, the river Helicon dips under-ground ;
that is, letters are buried, till tilings having undergone their due course

428 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

of changes, learning rises again, and shows its head, though seldom in
the same place, but in some other nation.0

IV. -THE FABLE OF ATALANTA AND HIPPOMENES.

EXPLAINED OF THE CONTEST BETWIXT ^RT AND NATURE.

ATALANTA, who was exceeding fleet, contended with Hippomenes
in the course, on condition chat if Hippomenes won, he should espouse
her, or forfeit his life if he lost. The match was very unequal, fo»
Atalanta had conquered numbers, to their destruction. Hippomenes,
therefore, had recourse to stratagem. He procured three goiden
applcs, and purposely cairied them with him : they started ; Atalanta
outstripped him soon ; then Hippomenes bowled one of his apples
before her, across the course, in order not only to make her stoop, but
to draw her out of the path. She, prompted by female curiosity, and
the beauty of the golden fruit, starts from the course to take up the
apple. Hippomenes, in the mean time, holds on his way, and steps
before her ; but she, by her natural swiftness, soon fetches up her lost
ground, and leaves him again behind. Hippomenes, however, by
rightly timing his second and third throw, at length won the race, not
by his swiftness, but his cunning.

EXPLANATION.— This fable seems to contain r. noble allegory of
the contest betwixt art and nature. For art, here denoted by Atalanta,
is much swifter, or more expeditious in its operations than nature,
when all obstacles and impediments are removed, and sooner arrives
at its end. This appears almost in every instance. Thus fruit conies
slowly from the kernel, but soon by inoculation or incision; clay, left
to itself, is a long time acquiring a stony hardness, but is presently
burnt by fire into brick, f So again in human life, nature is a long
while in alleviating and abolishing the remembrance of pain, and
assuaging the troubles of the mind ; but moral philosophy, which is
the art of living, performs it presently. Yet this prerogative and
singular efficacy of art is stopped and retarded to the infinite detriment
of human life, by certain golden apples; for there is no one science 01
art that constantly holds on its true and proper course to the end, but
they are all continually stopping short, forsaking the track, and turning
aside to profit and convenience, exactly like Atalanta. Whence it is

• Thus we see that Orpheus denotes learning ; Eurydice, things, or the sub
ject of learning ; Bacchus, and the Thracian women, men's ungoverned passions
and appetites, etc. And in the same manner these fables might be familiarly iliwi>
trated and brought down to the capacities of children, who usually learn them in an
unscientifical manner at school.

•\- A proper collection of these instances should be made for the encouragement
of men in their endeavours to adv mce arts and produce considerable effects.

WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 429

no wonder that art gets not the victory over nature, nor, according to
the condition of the contest, brings her under subjection ; but, on the
contrary, remains subject to her, as a wife to a husband.*

V.-THE FABLE OF ERICTHONIUS.

EXPLAINED OF THE IMPROPER USE OF FORCE IN NATURAL
PHILOSOPHY.

THE poets feign that Vulcan attempted the chastity of Minerva,
and impatient of refusal, had recourse to force ; the consequence of
which was the birth of Ericthonius, whose body from the middle up
wards was comely and well-proportioned, but his thighs and legs
small, shrunk, and deformed, like an eel. Conscious of this defect, he
became the inventor of chariots, so as to show the graceful, but con
ceal the deformed part of his body.

EXPLANATION. — This strange fable seems to carry this meaning.
Art is here represented under the person of Vulcan, by reason of the
various uses it makes of fire ; and nature under the person of Minerva,
by reason of the industry employed in her works. Art, therefore,
whenever i*. offers violence to nature, in order to conquer, subdue, and
bcn:l her to its purpose, by tortures and force of all kinds, seldom
obtains the end proposed ; yet upon great struggle and application,
there proceed certain imperfect births, or lame abortive works, specious
in appearance, but weak and unstable in use ; which arc, nevertheless,
with great pomp and deceitful appearances, triumphantly carried
about, and shown by impostors. A. procedure very familiar, and re
markable in chemical productions, and new mechanical inventions ;
especially when the inventors rather hug their errors than improve
upon them, and go on struggling with nature, not courting her.

* The author, in all his physical works, proceeds upon this foundation, that it is
pos: " If, and practicable, for art to obtain the victory over nature ; that is, for
nun -o industry and power to procure, by the means of proper knowledge, such
thirr* as *rc necessary to render life as happy and commodious as its mortal stale
will allow. 1'or instance. M.at it is possible to lengthen the present period of human
life ; bring the winds under command ; and every way extend and enlarge the
d"ii i-.'.on or tiri'iTC of tnar. over till works of nature ; and let no one fearfully
apprehend that there is danger in thus endeavouring to take the reins of govern*
mcnt out of nature's hands, and putting them into the weak hands of men, for the
distinction between men and nature is imaginary, and only made to help the tinder-
standing : man himself being necessarily subject to the laws of nature ; though
within the compass of these laws he has a very extensive power that will aU.iy* be
commensurate to knowledge.

430 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

VI— THE FABLE OF ICARUS, AND THAT OF SCYLLA
AND CHARYBDIS.

EXPLAINED OF MEDIOCRITY IN NATURAL AND MORAL PHILOSOPHY.

MEDIOCRITY, or the holding a middle course, has been highly
extolled in morality, but little in matters of science, though no
less useful and proper here; whilst in politics it is held suspected,
and ought to be employed with judgment. The ancients described
mediocrity in manners by the course prescribed to Icarus ; and in
matters of the understanding by the steering betwixt Scylla and
Charybdis, on account of the great difficulty and danger of passing
those straits.

Icarus, being to fly across the sea, was ordered by his father neither
to soar too high nor fly too low, for, as his wings were fastened together
with wax, there was danger of its melting by the sun's heat in too high
a flight, and of its becoming less tenacious by the moisture if v»e kept
too near the vapour of the sea. But he, with a juvenile confidence.,
soared aloft, and fell down headlong.

EXPLANATION. — The fable is vulgar, and easily interpreted ; lor
the path of virtue lies straight between excess on the one side, and
defect on the other. And no wonder that excess should prove the
bane of Icarus, exulting in juvenile strength and vigour ; for excess is
the natural vice of youth, as defect is that of old age ; and if a man
must perish by either, Icarus chose the better of the two ; for all de
fects arc justly esteemed more depraved than excesses. There is some
magnanimity in excess, that, like a bird, claims kindred with the
heavens ; but defect is a reptile, that basely crawls upon the earth.
It was excellently said by Heracl'tus " A dry light makes the best
soul ;" for if the soul contracts moisture from the earth, it perfectly
degenerates and sinks. On the other hand, moderation must be ob
served, to prevent this fine light from burning, by its too great subtilty
and dryness. But these observations are common.

In matters of the understanding, it requires great skill and a par
ticular felicity to steer clear of Scylla and Charybdis. If the ship
strikes upon Scylla, it is dashed in pieces against the rocks ; if upon
Charybdis, it is swallowed outright. This allegory is prcgnaul: with
matter ; but we shall only observe the force of it lies here, that 2 ::iean
be observed in every doctrine and science, and in the rules and axiom j
thereof, between the rocks of distinctions and 'he whirlpools of uni
versalities ; for these two are the bane and shipwreck of fine :•;' :\; iscz
and arts.

ir/SDOAf OF THE AXCIENTS. 43»

VII.— THE FABLE OF PROTEUS.

EXPLAINED OF MATTKR AND ITS CHANGES.

PROTEUS, according to the poets, was Neptune's herdsman ; an old
man, and a most extraordinary prophet, who understood things past
and present, as well as future ; so that besides the business of divina
tion, he was the rcvealer ami interpreter of .ill antiquity, and secrets of
every kind. I le lived in a vast cave, where his custom was to tell over his
herd of sea-calves at noon, and then to sleep. Whoever consulted him,
had no other way of obtaining an answer, but by binding him with
manacles and fetters ; when he, endeavouring to free himself, would
change into all kinds of shapes and miraculous forms ; as of fire,
water, wild beasts, &c. ; till at length he resumed his own shape
again.

EXPLANATION.— This fable seems to point at the secrets of nature,
and the states of n a'.ter. For the person of Proteus denotes matter,
the oldest of all things, after God himself;* that resides, as in a cave,
under the vast concavity of the heavens. He is represented as the
servant of Neptune, because the various operations and modifications
of matter are principally wrought in a fluid state. The herd, or flock
of Proteus, seems to be no other than the several kinds of animals,
plants, and minerals, in which matter appears to diffuse and spend
itself; so that after having formed these several species, and as it were
finished its task, it seems to sleep and repose, without otherwise
attempting to produce any new ones. And this is the moral of ProtcusY
counting his herd, then going to sleep.

This is said to be done at noon, not in the morning or evening ; by
which is meant the time lx*st fitted and disposed for the production of
species, from a matter duly prepared, and made ready beforehand, and
now lying in a middle state, between its first rudiments and decline ;
which, we learn from sacred history, was the case at the time of the
election ; when by the efficacy of the divine command, matter directl)
came together, without any transformation or intermediate changes,
which it affects ; instantly obeyed the order, and ap»ca-ef! in the form
of creatures.

And thus far the fable reaches of Proteus, am' his flock, at :iberU
and uiiiestraiiicil. For the universe, with the common structures and
fabrics of the creatuics, is the face of mattrr, not under constraint, or
a, the flork wrought upon and tortuied by human means. Hut if any
skilful minister of nature shall apply force to matter, and by design
torture and \cx it, in order to its annihilation, it, on the contrary,
being brought under this necessity, changes and transforms itself into
a st7cinge variety of shapes ami ap|>earances ; for nothing but the

• l'rotcu> propci ly signifies primary, oMest, or first.

432 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

power of the Creator can annihilate, or truly destroy it ; so that at
length, running through the whole circle of transformations, and com
pleting its period, it in some degree restores itself, if the force be con
tinued. And that method of binding, torturing, or detaining, will
prove the most effectual and expeditious, which makes use of manacles
and fetters ; that is, lays hold and works upon matter in the extremest
degrees.

The addition in the fable that makes a Proteus a prophet, who had
the knowledge of things past, present, and future, excellently agrees
with the nature of matter ; as he who knows the properties, the
changes, and the processes of matter, must of necessity understand
the effects and sum of what it does, has done, or can do, though his
knowledge extends not to all the parts and particulars thereof.

VIII.— THE FABLE OF CUPID.

EXPLAINED OF THE CORPUSCULAR PHILOSOPHY.

THE particulars related by the poets of Cupid, or Love, do not pro
perly agree to the same person ; yet they differ only so far, that if the
confusion of persons be rejected, the correspondence may hold. They
say that Love was the most ancient of all the gods, and existed before
everything else, except Chaos, which is held coeval therewith. But for
Chaos, the ancients never paid divine honours, nor gave the title of a
god thereto. Love is represented absolutely without progenitor,
excepting only that he is said to hav^ proceeded from the egg of Nox ;
but that himself begot the gods, and all things else on Chaos. His
attributes are four : viz., i. perpetual infancy ; 2. blindness ; 3. naked
ness ; and 4. archery.

There was also another Cupid, or Love, the youngest son of the
gods, born of Venus, and upon him the attributes of the elder arc
transferred, with some degree of correspondence.

EXPLANATION.— This fable points at, and enters, the cradle of
nature. Love seems to be the appetite, or incentive, of the primitive
matter ; or, to speak more distinctly, the natural motion, or moving
principle, of the original corpuscles, or atoms ; this being the most
ancient and only power that made and wrought all things out of matter.
It is absolutely without parent, that is, without cause ; for causes are
us parents to effects ; but this power or efficacy could have no natural
cause; for, excepting God, nothing was befoie it; and therefore it
could have no efficient in nature. And as nothing is more inward with
nature, it can neither be a genus nor a form ; and therefore, whatever
it is, it must be somewhat positive, though inexpressible. And it" it
were possible to conceive its modus and process, yet it could not

WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 433

be known from its cause, as being, next to God, the cause of causes,
and itself without a cause. And perhaps we are not to hope that the
modus of it should fall, or be comprehended, under human inquiry.
' Vhence it is properly feigned to be the egg of Nox, or laid in the
dark.

The divine philosopher declares, that " God has made everything
beautiful in its season ; and has given over the world to our disputes
and inquiries : but that man cannot find out the work which God has
wrought, from its beginning up to its end." Thus the summary or
collective law or nature, or the principle of love, impressed by God
upon the original particles of all things, so as to make them attack
each other and come together, by the repetition and multiplication
whereof all the variety in the universe is produced, can scarce possibl
find full admittance in the thoughts of men, though some faint notion
may be had thereof. The Greek philosophy is subtile, and busied in
discovering the material principles of things, but negligent and languid
in discovering the principles of motion, in which the energy and
efficacy of every operation consists. And here the Greek philosophers
seem perfectly blind and childish ; for the opinion of the Peripatetics,
as to the stimulus of matter, by privation, is little more than words, or
rather sound than signification. And they who refer it to God, though
they do well therein, yet they do it by a start, and not by proper
degrees of assent ; for doubtless there is one summary, or capital
law, in which nature meets, subordinate to God, viz., the law men
tioned in the passage above quoted from Solomon ; or the work which
God has wrought from its beginning up to its end.

Democritus, who farther considered this subject, having first sup-
oscd an atom, or corpuscle, of some dimension or figure, attributed
heret? an appetite, desire, or first motion simply, and another com
paratively, imagining that all things properly tended to the centre of
the world ; those containing more matter falling faster to the centre,
and thereby removing, and in the shock driving away, such as held
.'ess. Hut this is a slender conceit, and regards too few particulars ;
for neither the revolutions of the celestial bodies, nor the contractions
nnd expansions of things, can be reduced to this principle. And for
the opinion of Kpicurus, as to the declination and fortuitous agitation
of atoms, this only brings the matter back again ic a trifle, and wraps
it up in ignorance and night.

Cupid is elegantly drawn a perpetual child ; for compounds are
larger things, and have their periods of age ; but the first seeds or
atoms of bodies are small, and remain in a perpetual infant state.

He is again justly represented naked ; as all compounds maj
properly be said to be dressed and clothed, or to assume a per
sonage ; whence nothing remains truly naked, but the original particles
of things.

The blindness of Cupid contains a deep allegory ; for this same
Cupid, Love, or appetite of the world, seems to have very little fore
sight, but directs his steps and motions conformably to what he finds
next him, as blind men do when they feel out their way ; which

28

454 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

renders the divine and over-ruling Providence and foresight the more
surprising; as by a certain steady law, it brings such a beautiful order
and regularity of things out of what seems extremely casual, void of
design, and, as it were, really blind.

The last attribute of Cupid is archery, viz., a virtue or power
operating at a distance ; for everything that operates at a distance,
may seem, as it were, to dart, or shoot with arrows. And whoever
allows of atoms and vacuity, necessarily supposes that the virtue of
atoms operates at a distanced for without this operation no motion
could be excited, on account of the vacuum interposing, but all thing1;
would remain sluggish and unmoved.

As to the other Cupid, he is properly said to be the youngest sons
of the gods, as his power could not take place before the formation cf
species, or particular bodies. The description given us of him transfers
the allegory to morality, though he still retains some resemblance
with the ancient Cupid ; for as Venus universally excites U.e affection
of association, and the desire of procreation, her son Cupid applies
the affection to individuals ; so that the general disposition proceeds
from Venus, but the more close sympathy from Cupid. The former
depends upon a near approximation of causes, but the latter upon
deeper, more necessitating and uncontrollable principles, as if they
proceeded from the ancient Cupid, on whom all exquisite sympathies
depend.

IX.— THE FABLE OF DEUCALION.
EXPLAINED OF A USEFUL HINT IN NATURAL PHILOSOPHY.

THE poets tell us that the inhabitants of the old wonJ. being
totally destroyed, by the universal deluge, excepting Deucalion and
Pyrrha, these two, desiring with zealous and fervent devotion to restore
mankind, received this oracle for answer, that " they should succeed
by throwing their mother's bones behind them." This at fiist cast them
into great sorrow and despair, because, as all things were levelled by
the deluge, it was in vain to seek their mother's tomb ; but at length
they understood the expression of the oracle to signify the stones of
the earth, which is esteemed the mother of all things.

EXPLANATION. — This fable seems to reveal a secret of nature, and
correct an error familiar to the mind ; for men's ignorance leads them
to expect the renovation or restoration of things from their corruption
and remains, as the phoenix is said to be restored out of its ashes ;
which is a very improper procedure, because such kind of materials
have finished their course, and are become absolutely unfit to supply
the first rudiments of the same things again : whence, in cases of
renovation, recourse should be had to more common principles.

Or THE AXC/EXTS. 43$

X.- Till: KAlil.K OK Si-ill NX.
i:\ri.\iNM) OK TIIK SCII-.NCI.S.

Tin V relate that Sphinx was a monster, variously formed, having
the face and voice of a virgin, the wings of a bird, anil the talons of a
griffin. She resided on the top of a mountain, near the <ity Thebes,
and also beset the highways. Her manner was to lie in ambush, and
seize the travellers, and having them in her power, to propose to them
certain dark and perplexing riddles, which it was thought she received
from the Muses, ami if her wretched captives could not solve and
interpret these riddles, she with great cruelly fell upon them, in their
hesitation and confusion, and tore them to pieces. This plague having
reigned a long time, the Thebans at length offered their kingdom to
the man >vho could interpret her riddles, there being no other way to
subdue her. (Kdipus, a penetrating and prudent man, though lame in
his feet, excited by so great a reward, accepted the condition, and with
a good assurance of mind, cheerfully presented himself l>efore the
monster, who directly asked him, "What creature that was, which
being born four- footed, afterwards became two-footed, then three-footed
and lastly four-footed again?'' (Kdipus, with presence of mind,
replied it was man, who, upon his first birth and iufant state, crawled
upon all fours in endeavouring to walk ; but not long after went
upright upon his two natural feet; again, in old age walked three-
footed, with a stick ; and at last, growing decrepit, lay four-footed
confined to his bed ; and having by this exact solution obtained the
victory, he slew the monster, and, laying the carcass upon an ass, led
her away in triumph ; and upon this he was, according to the agree
ment, made king of Thebes.

EXPLANATION. — This is an elegant, instructive fable, and seem*
invented to represent science, especially as joined with practice. Foi
science may, without absurdity, be called a monster, being strangely
j^azcd at and admired by the ignorant and unskilful. Her figure and
form is various, by reason of the vast variety of subjects that science
considers ; her voice and countenance are represented female, by
reason of her gay appearance and volubility of sj>cech ; wings arc
added, because the sciences and their inventions run and fly about in A
moment, for knowledge, like light communicated from one torch to
another, is presently caught and copiously diffused ; sharp and hooked
talons arc elegantly attributed to her, because the axioms and
arguments of science enter the mind, lay hold of it, fix it down, and
keep it from moving or slipping away. This the sacred philosopher
observe. 1 when he said, " The words of the wise arc like goads or nails
driver, far in.1' Again, all science seems placed on high, as it were on
the tops of mountains that arc hard to climb ; for science is justly
imagined a sublime and lofty thing, looking down upon ignorance
from an eminence, and at the same time taking an extensive view on

436 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

all sides, as is usual on the tops of mountains. Science is said to beset
the highways, because through all the journey and peregrination oi
human life there is matter and occasion offered of contemplation.

Sphinx is said to propose various difficult questions and riddles to
men, which she received from the Muses; and these questions, so long
as they remain with the Muses, may very well be unaccompanied with
severity, for while there is no other end of contemplation and inquiry,
but that of knowledge alone, the understanding is not oppressed, or
driven tc straits and difficulties, but expatiates and ranges at large,
and even receives a degree of pleasure from doubt and variety ; but
after the Muses have given over their riddles to Sphinx, that is., io
practice, which urges and impels to action, choice, and tlctcrmiraiior.
then it is that they become torturing, severe, and trying, and, unleL -.,
solved and interpreted, strangely perplex and harass the human mind
rend it every way, and perfectly tear it to pieces. All the riddles ot
Sphinx, therefore, have two conditions annexed, viz., dilaceration to
those who do not solve them, and empire to those that do. For he who
understands the thing proposed obtains his end, and every artifr^
rules over his work.*

Sphinx has no more than two kinds of riddles, one relating tc the
nature of things, the other to the nature of man ; and correspondent
to these, the prizes of the solution are two kinds of empire, — the empiv<:
over nature, and the empire over man. For the true and ultimate en J
of natural philosophy is dominion over natural things, natural be die?,
remedies, machines, and numberless other particulars, though the
schools, contented with what spontaneously offers, and swollen with
their own discourses, neglect, and in a manner despise, both thing?-
and works.

But the riddle proposed to CEdipus, the solution whereof acquired
him the Theban kingdom, regarded the nature of man ; for he who
has thoroughly looked into and examined human nature, may in a
manner command his own fortune, and seems born to acquire dominion
and rule. Accordingly, Virgil properly makes the arts of government
to be the arts of the Romans.f It was, therefore, extremely apposite
in Augustus Caesar to use the image of Sphinx in his signet, whether
this happened by accident or by design ; for he, of all men, was deeply
versed in politics, and through the course of his life very happily
solved abundance of new riddles with regard to the nature of man ;
and unless he had done this with great dexterity and ready address,
he would frequently have been involved in imminent danger, if not
destruction.

It is with the utmost elegance added in the fable, that when Sphinx

* This is what the author so frequently inculcates In the Novnm Organum,
viz., that knowledge and power are reciprocal ; so that to improve in knowledge is
to improve in the power of commanding nature, by introducing new arts, and
producing works and effects.

t "Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento:
Hae tibi erunt artes." — ALn. vi. 852.

WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 437

was conquered, her carcass was laid upon an ass ; for there is nothing
so subtile and abtrusc, but after l>eing once made plain, intelligible, and
common, it ma/ be received by the slowest capacity.

\Vc must not omit that Sphinx was conquered by a lame man, and
impotent in his feet ; for men usually make too much haste to the
solution of Sphinx's riddles ; whence it happens, that she prevailing,
their minds are rather racked and torn by disputes, than invested with
command by works, and effects.

XI. -Tilt: I-'AIILi: OF PROSERPINE.

EXPLAINED OF THE SPIRIT INCLUDED IN NATURAL BODIES.

THEY tell us, Pluto having, upon that memorable division of em
pire among the gods, received the fnfernal regions for his share, des
pairing of winning any one of the goddesses in marriage by an
obsequious courtship, and therefore through necessity resolved upon a
rape. Having watched his opportunity, he suddenly seized upon
Proserpine, a most beautiful virgin, the daughter of Ceres, as she was
gathering narcissus flowers in the meads of Sicily, and hurrying her to his
chariot, carried her with him to the subtcrraneal regions, where she was
treated with the highest reverence, and styled the Lady of Dis. Hut
Ceres missing her only daughter, whom she extremely loved, grew j>cn-
sive and anxious bcyorvl measure, and taking a lighted torch in her
hand, wandered the world over in quest of her daughter, -but all to no
purpose, till, suspecting she might be carried to the infernal region0,
she, with great lamentation ;:nd abundance of tears, importuned Jupiter
to restore her ; and with much ado prevailed so far as to recover and
bring her away, if she had tasted nothing there. This proved a hard
condition upon the mother, for Proserpine was found to have eaten
three kernels of a pomegranate. Ceres, however, desisted not, but fell
to her entreaties and lamentations afresh, insomuch that at last it was
indulged her that Proserpine should divide the year betwixt her hus
band and her mother, and live six months with the one and as many
with the other. After this Theseus and Pentiums, with uncommon
audacity, attempted to force Proserpine away from Pluto's bed, but
hnppcning to grow tired in their journey, and resting themselves u|>'>n
a stor.e in the realms l>elow, they could never rise from it again, but
temam sitting there for ever. Proserpine, therefore, still continued
queen of the lower regions, in honour of whom there was also added
this grand privilege, that though it had never Ixrcn permitted any one
to return after having once descended thither, a particular exception
was made, that he who brought a golden bough as a present to Pro
serpine, might on that condition descend and return. This was an
only bough that grew in a large dark grove, not from a tree of its own,
but like the mistletoe, from another, and when plucked away a fresh
one always shot out in its stead.

438 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

EXPLANATION. — This fable seems to regard natural philosophy,
and searches deep into that rich and fruitful virtue and supply in sub
terraneous bodies, from whence all the things upon the earth's surface
spring, and into which they again relapse and return. By Proserpine
the ancients denoted that ethereal spirit shut up and detained within
the earth, here represented by Pluto,— the spirit being separated from
the superior globe, according to the expression of the poet.* This
spirit is conceived as ravished, or snatched up by the earth, because it
can no way be detained, when it has time and opportunity to lly off,
but is only wrought together and fixed by sudden intermixture, and
comminution, in the same manner as if one should endeavour to mix
air with water, which cannot otherwise be done than by a quick and
rapid agitation, that joins them together in froth whilst the air is thus
caught up by the water. And it is elegantly added, that Proserpine
was ravished whilst she gathered narcissus flowers, which have their
name from numbcdness, or stupefaction ; for the spirit we speak of
is in the fittest disposition to be embraced by terrestrial matter when
it begins to coagulate, or grow torpid as it were.

It is an honour justly attributed to Proserpine, and not to any other
wife of the gods, that of being the lady or mistress of her husband, be
cause this spirit performs all its operations in the subtcrrancal regions,
whilst Pluto, or the earth, remains stupid, or as it were ignorant of
them.

The cethcr, or the efficacy of the heavenly bodies, denoted by Ceres,
endeavours with infinite diligence to force out this spirit, and restore
it to its pristine state. And by the torch in the hand of Ceres, or the
aether, is doubtless meant the sun, which disperses light over the whole
globe of the earth, and if the thing were possible, must have the greatest
share in recovering Proserpine, or reinstating the subtcrrancal spirit.
Yet Proserpine still continues and dwells below after the manner ex
cellently described in the condition betwixt Jupiter and Ceres. For
first, it is certain that there are two ways of detaining the spirit, in solid
and terrestrial matter, — the one of condensation or obstruction, which
is mere violence and imprisonment ; the other by administering a
proper aliment, which is spontaneous and free. For after the included
spirit begins to feed and nourish itself, it is not in a hurry to fly off, but
remains as it were fixed in its own earth. And this is the moral of
Proserpine's tasting the pomegranate : and were it not for this, she
must long ago have been carried up by Ceres, who with her torch
wandered the world over, and so the earth have been left without its
spirit. For though the spirit in metals and minerals may perhaps be,
after a particular manner, wrought in by the solidity of the mass, yet
the spirit of vegetables and animals has open passages to escape at,
unless it be willingly detained, in the way of sipping and tasting them.

The second article of agreement, that of Proserpine's remaining six
months with her mother and six with her husband, is an elegant

* " Sive recens tellus, seductaque nuper ab alta

cognati retincbat scmina cocli." — Mctam i. 80,

WISDOM OF THE A\\:ir.XTS. 439

description of the division of the year ; for the spirit diffused through
the earth lives above ground in the vegetable world during the summer
months, but in the winter returns under ground again.

The attempt of Theseus and Pentiums to bring Proserpine away.
denotes that the more subtile spirits, \\hi< h descend in many bodies to
the earth, may frequently be unable to drink in, unite with themselves,
and carry off the subterraneous spirit, but on the contrary be coagulated
by it, and rise no more, so as to increase the inhabitants and add to the
dominion of Proserpine.*

The alchemists will be apt to fall in with our interpretation of the
golden bough, whether we will or no, because they promise golden
mountains, and the restoration of natural bodies from their stone, as
from the gates of Pluto ; but we are well assured that their theory has
no just foundation, and suspect they have no very encouraging or
practical proofs of its soundness. Leaving, therefore, their conceits to
themselves, we shall freely declare our o\vn sentiments ujxm this last
part of the fable. \\'c are certain, from numerous figures and expres
sions of the ancients, that they judged the conservation, and in some
degree the renovation, of natural bodies to be no desperate or impossible
thing, but rather abstruse and out of the common road than wholly
impracticable, and this seems to be their opinion in the present case,
as they have placed this bough among an infinite number of shrubs,
in a spacious and thick wood. They supposed it of gold, because gold
is the emblem of duration. They feigned it adventitious, not native,
because such an effect is to be expected from art, and not from any
medicine or any simple or mere natural w.iy of working.

X:i.-TIIK FAMJ-: OF MEMNON.

FXPI.AINKU OF TI1K FATAL TRKCIPITANCY OF YOUTH.

"J'HK poets made Mcmnon the son of Aurora, and bring him to
ti o 'Irojan war in beautiful armour, and flushed with popular praise ;
where, thirsting after farther glory, and rashly hurrying on to the
greatest enterprises, he engages the bravest warrior of all the Creeks,
Achilles, and falls by his hand in single combat. Jupiter, in com
miseration of his death, sent birds to grace his funeral, that per
petually chanted certain mournful and bewailing dirges. It is alsa
reported, that the rays of the rising sun, striking his statue, used tc
give a lamenting sound.

Kxi'LANATinN.— This fable regards the unfortunate end of those

• Many philosophers hare certain speculations to this purpose. Sir Ivuc Ncwti-n,
in p.ut.ailiir, suspects that the cart h n-cnvrs its vivifying spirits from tbeooowts.
And the philosophical chemists »nd ulrologen have spun the thought into many
fant.iMit.il distinctions and varieties. Sec Newton, Princip. lib. iii. p. 473. &c.

440 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

promising youths, who, like sons of the morning, elate with empty
hopes and glittering outsidcs, attempt things beyond their strength :
challenge the bravest heroes ; provoke them to the combat ; and
proving unequal, die in their high attempts.

The death of such youths seldom fails to meet with infinite pity ;
as no mortal calamity is more moving and afflicting, than to see the
flower of virtue cropped before its time. Nay, the prime of life en
joyed to the full, or even to a degree of envy, does not assuage or
moderate the grief occasioned by the untimely death of such hopeful
youths ; but lamentations and bewailings fly, like mournful birds,
about their tombs, for a long while after ; especially 'jpon all fresh
occasions, new commotions, and the beginning of great actions, the
passionate desire of them is renewed, as by the sun's morning rays.

XIII.— THE FABLE OF TYTHONUS.

EXPLAINED OF PREDOMINANT PASSIONS.

IT is elegantly fabled by Tythonus, that being exceedingly beloved
by Aurora, she petitioned Jupiter that he might prove immortal,
thereby to secure herself the everlasting enjoyment of his company ;
but through female inadvertence she forgot to add, that he might
never grow old; so that, though he proved immortal, he became
miserably worn and consumed with age, insomuch that Jupiter, out of
pity, at length transformed him to a grasshopper.

EXPLANATION. — This fable seems to contain an ingenious de
scription of pleasure ; which at first, as it were in the morning of the
day, is so welcome, that men \.ny to have it everlasting, but forget
that satiety and weariness of it "will, like old age, overtake them,
though they think not of it ; so that a length, when their appetite for
pleasurable actions is gone, their desires and affections often continue ;
whence we commonly find that aged persons delight themselves with
the discourse and remembrance of the things agreeable to them in
their better days. This is very remarkable in men of a loose, and
men of a military life; the former whereof are always talking over
their amours, and the latter the exploits of their youth ; like grass
hoppers, that show their vigour only by their chirping.

XIV.— THE FABLE OF NARCISSUS.

EXPLAINED OF SELF-LOVE.

NARCISSUS is said to have been extremely beautiful and comely,
but intoleraWy proud and disdainful ; so that, pleased with himself,
and scorning the world, he led a solitary life in the woods ; hunting

WISDOM Or THE AXCIKXTS. 441

only with a few followers, who were his professed admirers, amongst
whom the nymph Kcho was his constant attendant. In this method
of life it was once his fate to approach a clear fountain, where he laid
himself down to rest, in the noonday heat ; when, beholding his
image in the water, he fell into such a rapture and admiration of him
self, that he could by no means be got away, but remained continually
fixed and gazing, till «'it length he was turned into a flower, of his owr.
name, which appears early in the spring, and is consecrated to the
infernal deities, 1'luto, Proserpine, and the Furies.

EXPLANATION.— This fable seems to paint the behaviour and
fortune of those, who, for their beauty, or other endowments, where
with nature (without any industry of their own) has graced and
adorned them, arc extravagantly fond of themselves : for men of such
a disposition generally affect retirement, and absence from public
affairs ; as a life of business must necessarily subject them to many
neglects and contempts, which might disturb and ruffle their minds :
whence such persons commonly lead a solitary, private, and shadowy
life ; sec little company, and those only such as highly admire and
reverence them ; or, like an echo, assent to all they say.

And they who arc depraved, and rendered still fonder of themselves
by this custom, grow strangely indolent, unactivc, and perfectly stupid.
The Narcissus, a spring flower, is an elegant emblem of this temper,
which at first flourishes, and is talked of, but when ripe, frustrates the
expectation conceived of it.

And that this flower should be sacred to the infernal powers,
carries out the allusion still farther ; because men of this humour are
perfectly useless in all respects : for whatever yields no fruit, but
passes, and is no more, like the way of a ship in the sea, was by the
i-nciciUs consecrated to the infernal shades and powers.

XV.— THE KAKLE OF JUNO'S COURTSHIP.

LXPLAINKD OF Sl'NMISSION AND AIIJF.CTIMN.

THE poets tell us, that Jupiter, to carry on his love intrigues,
assumed many different shapes ; as of a bull, an eagle, a swan, a
golden shower, etc. ; but when he attempted Juno, he turned himscll
into the most ignoble and ridiculous creature,— even that of a wretched,
\vct, wcarher-beaten, affrighted, trembling, and half-starved cuckoo.

..— This is a wise fable, and drawn from the very
entrails of morality. The mora'i is, that men should not be conceited
of themselves, and imagine that a discovery of their excellences will
always render them acceptable ; fcr this can only succeed according

442 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

to the nature and manners of the person the court, or solicit ; who,
if he be a man not of the same gifts and endowments, but altogether
of a haughty and contemptuous behaviour, here represented by the
person of Juno, they must entirely drop the character that carries the
least show of worth, or gracefulness ; if they proceed upon any other
footing, it is downright folly ; nor is it sufficient to act the deformity
of obsequiousness, unless they really change themselves, and become
abject and contemptible in their persons.

XVI.-THE FABLE OF CASSANDRA.

EXPLAINED OF TOO FREE AND UNSEASONABLE ADVICE.

THE poets relate, that Apollo, falling in love with Cassandra, was
still deluded and put off by her, yet fed with hopes, till she had got
from him the gift of prophecy ; and having now obtained her end, she
flatly rejected his suit. Apollo, unable to recall his rash gift, yet
enraged to be outwitted by a girl, annexed this penalty to it, that though
she should always prophesy true, she should never be believed ; whence
her divinations were always slighted, even when she again and again
predicted the ruin of her country.

EXPLANATION. — This fable seems invented to express the insig
nificance of unseasonable advice. For they who are conceited,
stubborn, or intractable, and listen not to the instructions of Apollo,
the god of harmony, so as to learn and observe the modulations anil
measures of affairs, the sharps and flats of discourse, the difference
between judicious and vulgar ears, and the proper times of speech and
silence, let them be ever so intelligent, and ever so frank of their
advice, or their counsels ever so good and just, yet all their
endeavours, either of persuasion or force, are of little significance, and
rather hasten the ruin of those they advise. But, at last, when the
calamitous event has made the sufferers feel the effect of their neglect,
they too late reverence their advisers, as deep, foreseeing, and faithful
prophets.

Of this we have a remarkable instance in Cato of Utica, who dis
covered afar off, and long foretold, the approaching ruin of his country,
both in the first conspiracy, and as it was prosecuted in the civil war
between Crcsar and Pompey, yet did no good the while, but rather hurt
ihe commonwealth, and hurried on its destruction, which Cicero wisely
observed in these words : " Cato, indeed, judges excellently, but preju
dices the state ; for he speaks as in the commonwealth of P!ato, and
not as in the 4regs of Romulus."

ll7SPO.\f OF THE A \CIENTS. 443

XVII.— TFIE FABLE OF THE SIRENS.

EXPLAINED OF MEN'S PASSION FOR PLEASURES.

INTRODUCTION.— The fable of the Sirens is, in a vulgar sense,
justly enough explained of the pernicious incentives to pleasure ; but
the ancient mythology seems to us like a vintage ill-pressed and trot! ;
for though something has l>cen drawn from it, yet all the more excel
lent parts remain behind in the grapes that are untouched.

FABLE.— The Sirens arc said to be the daughters of Achclous and
Terpsichore, one of the Muses. In their early days they had wings,
but lost them upon being conquered by the Muses, with whom they
rashly contended ; and with the feathers of these wings the Muses
made themselves crowns, so that from this time the Muses wore wings
>n their heads, excepting only the mother to the Sirens.

These Sirens resided in certain pleasant islands, and when, from
their watch-tower, they saw any ship approaching, they first detained
the sailors by their music, then, enticing them to shore, destroyed them.

Their singing was not of one and the same kind, but they adapted
their tunes exactly to the nature of each person, in order to captivate
and secure him. And so destructive had they been, that these islands
of the Sirens appeared, to a very great distance, white with the bones
oi their unburicd captives.

Two different remedies were invented to protect persons against
them, the one by Ulysses, the other by Orpheus. Ulysses commanded
his associates to stop their ears close with wax ; and he, determining
to make the trial, and yet avoid the danger, ordered himself to be tied
fast to a mast of the ship, giving strict charge not to be unbound, even
though himself should entreat it ; but Orpheus, without any binding at
all, escaped the danger, by loudly chanting to his harp the praises of
the gods, whereby he drowned the voices of the Sirens.

EXPLANATION. — This table is of the moral kind, and appears no
less elegant than easy to interpret. For pleasures proceed from plenty
and affluence, attended with activity or exultation of the mind.*
Anciently their f .rst incentives were quick, and seized upon men as if
they had been winged, but learning and philosophy afterwards prevail
ing, had at least the power to lay the mind under some restraint, and
malre it consider the issue of things, and thus deprived pleasures of
their wings.

This conquest redounded greatly to the honour and ornament of the
Muses ; for after it appeared, by the example of a few, that philosophy
could introduce a contempt of pleasures, it immediately seemed to l>c a
sublime thing that could raise and elevate the soul, fixed in a manner

The one denoted by the river Achelous, and Ihe other by Terpsichore, the
that invented th^ ciihar.i and drlighted in dancing.

444 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

down to the earth, and thus render men's thoughts, which reside in the
head, winged as it were, or sublime.

Only the mother of the Sirens was not thus plumed on the head,
which doubtless denotes superficial learning, invented and used for
delight and levity ; an eminent example whereof we have in Petronius,
who, after receiving sentence of death, still continued his gay frothy
humour, and, as Tacitus observes, used his learning to solace or divert
himself, and instead of such discourses as give firmness and constancy
of mind, read nothing but loose poems and verses.* Such learning as
this seems to pluck the crowns again from the Muses' heads, and restore
them to the Sirens.

The Sirens are said to inhabit certain islands, because pleasures
generally seek retirement, and often shun society. And for their song?,
with the manifold artifice and destructivcness thereof, this is too obvious
and common to need explanation. But that particular of the bones
stretching like white clitfs along the shores, and appearing afar off,
contains a more subtile allegory, and denotes that the examples ot
others' calamity and misfortunes, though ever so manifest and apparent,
have yet but little force to deter the corrupt nature of man from
pleasures.

The allegory of the remedies against the Sirens is not difficult, but
very wise and noble : it proposes, in effect, three remedies, as well
against subtile as violent mischiefs, two drawn from philosophy and
one from religion.

The first means of escaping is to resist the earliest temptation in the
beginning, and diligently avoid and cut off all occasions that may
solicit or sway the mind ; and this is well represented by shutting up
the ears, a kind of remedy to be necessarily used with mean and vulgar
minds, such as the retinue of Ulysses.

But nobler spirits may converse, even in the midst of pleasures, if
the mind be well guarded with constancy and resolution. And thus
some delight to make a severe trial of their own virtue, and thoroughly
acquaint themselves with the folly and madness of pleasures, without
complying or being wholly given up to them ; which is what Solomon
professes of himself when he closes the account of all the numerous
pleasures he gave a loose to, with this expression, " But wisdom still
continued with me." Such heroes in virtue may, therefore, remain un
moved by the greatest incentives to pleasure, and stop themselves on
the very precipice of danger ; if. according to the example of Ulysses,
they turn a deaf car to pernicious counsel, and the flatteries of their
friends and companions, which have the greatest power to shake and
unsettle the mind.

* " Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque nmemus ;
Rumoresque senum severiorum
Omnes unius cstirnemus assis."
And a^ain—

"Jura senes norint, et quod sit fasque nefasque
Jnquirant tristes ; legumque examiriq. scrvent/'

l\'/SDOM Or THE ANC/ENTS. 445

But the most excellent remedy, in every temptation, U that of
Orpheus, who, by loudly chanting and resounding the praises of the
gods, confounded the voices, and kept himself from hearing the music
of the Sirens ; for divine contemplations exceed the pleasures of i>cn:>c,
rot only in power, but also in sweetness.

XVIII.— Till-: FAKLK OF DIOMKD.

E\I'I.\INKI) OF I'F.PSKC'JTION, OR /EAL FOR RELIGION.

L'lOMEO acquired great glory and honour at the Trojan war, and
was highly favoured by Pallas, who encouraged and excited him by no
means to spare Venus, if he should casually meet her in fight. He
followed the advice with too much eagerness and intrepidity, and
accordingly wounded that goddess in her hand. This presumptuous
action remained unpunished for a time, and when the war was ended
be returned with great glory and renown to his own country, where,
finding himself embroiled with domestic affairs, he retired into Italy.
Here also at first he was well received and nobly entertained by King
Daunus, who, besides other gifts and honours, erected statues for
him over all his dominions. But upon the first calamity that aftlicted
the people after the stranger's arrival, Daunus immediately reflected
that he entertained a devoted person in his palace, an enemy to
the gods, and one who had sacrilegiously wounded a goddess with
his sword, whom it was impious but to touch. To expiate, therefore,
his country's guilt, he, without regard to the laws of hospitality, which
v.cre lc;.s regarded by him than the laws of religion, directly slew his
guest, and commanded all his statues and all his honours to be razed
and abolished. Nor was it safe for others to commiserate or bewail
so cruel a destiny; but even his companions in arms, whilst they
lamented the death of their leader, and filled all places with their
complaints, were turned into a kind of swans, which arc said, at the
approach of their own death, to chant sweet melancholy dirges.

EXPLANATION*. — This f.iblc intimates an extraordinary and almost
singular thing, for no hero besides Diomcd is recorded to have wounded
any of the gods. Doubtless we have here described the nature and
fate of a man who professedly makes any divine worship or sect of
religion, though in itself vain and light, the only sco|>e of his actions,
and resolves to propagate it by fire and sword. For although the
bloody dissensions and differences about religion were unknown to the
ancients, yet so copious and diffusive was their knowledge, that what
they knew not by experience they comprehended in thought and repre
sentation. Those, therefore, who endeavour to reform or establish any
sect of religion, though vain, rorrupt, and infamous (which is here
denoted under the person of Venus), not by the force of reason, learn-

446 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

ing, sanctity of manners, the weight of arguments, and examples, but
would spread or extirpate it by persecution, pains, penalties, tortures,
fire and sword, may perhaps be instigated hereto by Pallas, that is, by
a certain rigid, prudential consideration, and a severity of judgment, by
the vigour and efficacy whereof they sec thoroughly into the fallacies
and fictions of the delusions of this kind ; and through aversion to
depravity and a well-meant zeal, these men usually for a time acquire
great fame and glory, and are by the vulgar, to whom no moderate
measures can be acceptable, extolled and almost adored, as the only
patrons and protectors of truth and religion, men of any other disposi
tion seeming, in comparison with these, to be lukewarm, mean-spirited,
and cowardly. This fame and felicity, however, seldom endures to the
end ; but all violence, unless it escapes the reverses and changes oi
things by untimely death, is commonly unprospcrous in the issue ; and
if a change of affairs happens, and that sect of religion which was per
secuted and oppressed gains strength and rises again, then the zeal
and warm endeavours of this sort of men are condemned, their very
name becomes odious, and all their honours terminate in disgrace.

As to the point that Diomed should be slain by his hospitable en
tertainer, this denotes that religious dissensions may cause treachery,
bloody animosities, and deceit, even between the nearest friends.

That complaining or bewailing should not, in so enormous a case,
be permitted to friends affected by the catastrophe without punish
ment, includes this prudent admonition, that almost in all kinds of
wickedness and depravity men have still room left for commiseration,
so that they who hate the crime may yet pity the person and bewail
his calamity, from a principle of humanity and good nature ; and to
forbid the overflowings and intercourses of pity upon such occasions
were the extremest of evils ; yet in the cause of religion and impiety
the very commiserations of men are noted and suspected. On the
other hand, the lamentations and complainings of the followers and
attendants of Diomed, that is, of men of the same sect or persuasion,
are usually very sweet, agreeable, and moving, like the dying notes of
swans, or the birds of Diomed. This also is a noble and remarkable
part of the allegory, denoting that the last words of those who suffer
for the sake of religion strongly affect and sway men's minds, and
leave a lasting impression upon the sense and memory.

XIX.— THE FABLE OF ACTEON AND PENTHEUS.

EXPLAINED OF CURIOSITY, OR PRYING INTO THE SECRETS OF
PRINCES AND DIVINE MYSTERIES.

THE ancients afford us two examples for suppressing the imperti
nent curiosity of mankind, in diving into secrets, and imprudently
longing and endeavouring to discover them. The one of these is in

WISDOM OF THE //Ar/£A'7tf. 447

the person of Actcon, and the other in that of Pentheus. Acteon,
undesigncdly chancing to sec Diana naked, was turned into a stag,
and torn to pieces by his own hounds. And Pcntheus, desiring to
pry into the hidden mysteries of Bacchus' s sacrifice, and climbing a
tree for that puqwse, was struck with a phrensy. This phrensy of
Penlhcus caused him to see things double, particularly the sun, and
his own city Thebes, so that running homewards, and immediately
espying another Thebes, he runs towards that ; and thus continues
incessantly tending first to the one, anil then to the other, without
coming at cither.

EXPLANATION.— The first of these fables may relate to the secrets
of princes, and the second to divine mysteries. For they who are not
intimate with a prince, yet, against his will have a knowledge of his
secrets, inevitably incur his displeasure ; and therefore, being aware
that they are singled out, and all opportunities watched against them,
they lead the life of a stag, full of fears and suspicions. It likewise
frequently happens that their servants and domestics accuse them, and
plot their overthrow, in order to procure favour with the prince; for
whenever the king manifests his displeasure, the person it falls upon
must expect his servants to betray him, and worry him down, as Acteon
was worried by his own dogs.

The punishment of Pentheus is of another kind ; for they who,
unmindful of their mortal state, rashly aspire to divine mysteries,
by climbing the heights of nature and philosophy, here represented
by climhing a tree, — their fate is perpetual inconstancy, perplexity,
and instability of judgment. For as there is one light of nature, and
another light that is divine, they sec, as it were, two suns. And as the
actions of life, and the determinations of the will, depend upon the
understanding, they are distracted as much in opinion as in will ;
and therefore udge very inconsistently, or contradictorily ; and sec,
as it were, Thel>cs double : for Thebes being the refuge and habitation
of Pentheus, here denotes the ends of actions : whence they know
not what course to take, but remaining undetermined and unresolved
in their views and designs, they arc merely driven about by every
sudden gust and impulse of the mind.

XX.— THE FABLE OF THE KIVER STYX.

EXPLAINED OF NECESSITY, IN THE OATHS OR SOLEMN LEAGUES
OF FRINXES.

THE only solemn oath, by which the gods irrevocably obliged
themselves, is a well-known thing, and makes a part of many ancient
fables. To this oath they did not invoke any celestial divinity, or
divine attribute, but only called to witness the river Styx; which, with
many meanders, surrounds the infernal court of Dis. Fur this form

44& WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS*

alone, and none but this, was held inviolable and obligatory : and tha
punishmeut of falsifying it, was that dreaded one of being excluded,
for a certain number of years, the table of the gods.

EXPLANATION.— This fable seems invented to show the nature of
the compacts and confederacies of princes : which, though ever so
solemnly and religiously sworn to, prove but little the more binding
for it : so that oaths in this case seem used, rather for decorum, repu
tation, and ceremony, than for fidelity, security, and effectuating. And
though these oaths wefe strengthened with the bonds of affinity,
which are the links and ties of nature, and again, by mutual services
and good offices, yet we see all this will generally give way to ambition,
convenience, and the thirst of power : the rather, because it is easy for
princes under various specious pretences, to defend, disguise, and
conceal their ambitious desires arid insincerity ; having no judge to
call them to account. There is, however, one true and proper con
firmation of their faith, though no celestial divinity; but that great
divinity of princes, Necessity ; or, the danger of the state ; and the
securing of advantage.

This necessity is elegantly represented by Styx, the fatal river,
that can never be crossed back. And this deity it was, which Iphi-
crates the Athenian invoked in making a league : and because he
roundly and openly avows what most others studiously conceal, it may
be proper to give his own words. Observing that the Lacedaemonians
were inventing and proposing a variety of securities, sanctions, and
bonds of alliance, he interrupted them thus : " There may indeed, my
friends, be one bond and means of security between us : and that is,
for you to demonstrate you have delivered into our hands, such things
as that if you had the greatest desire to hurt us you could not be able."
Therefore, if the power of offending be taken away, or if by a breach
of compact there be danger of destruction or diminution to the state
or tribute, then it is that covenants will be ratified, and confirmed,
as it were by the Stygian oath, whilst there remains an impending
danger of being prohibited and excluded the banquet of the gods ;
by which expression the ancients denoted the rights and prerogatives,
the affluence and the felicities, of empire and dominion.

XXI.— THE FABLE OF JUPITER AND METIS.

EXPLAINED OF PRINCES AND THEIR COUNCIL.

THE ancient poets relate that Jupiter took Metis to wife, whose
name plainly denotes counsel, and that he, perceiving she was pregnant
by him, would by no means wait the time of her delivery, but directly
devoured her : whence he himself also became pregnant, and was
delivered in a wonderful manner; for he from his head or brain brought
forth Pallas armed.

WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 449

EXPLANATION.— This fable, which in its literal sense appears
monstrously absurd, seems to contain a state secret, and shows with
\vhat art kings usually carry themselves towards their council, in order
to preserve their own authority and majesty not only inviolate, but so
as to have it magnified and heightened among the people. For kings
commonly link themselves as it were in a nuptial bond to their council,
and deliberate and communicate with them after a prudent and laud
able custom upon matters of the greatest importance, at the same time
justly conceiving this no diminution of their majesty ; but when the
matter once ripens to a decree or order, which is a kind of birth, the
king then suffers the council to go on no further, lest the act should
seem to depend upon their pleasure. Now, therefore, the king usually
assumes to himself whatever was wrought, elaborated, or formed, as it
were, in the womb of the council (unless it be a matter of an invidious
nature, which he is sure to put from him), so that the decree and the
execution shall seem to flow from himself. And as this decree or exe
cution proceeds with prudence and power, so as to imply necessity, it
is elegantly wrapped up under the figure of Pallas armed.

Nor are kings content to have this seem the effect of their own
authority, free will, and uncontrollable choice, unless they also take the
whole honour to themselves, and make the people imagine that all
good and wholesome decrees proceed entirely from their own head,
that is, their own sole prudence and judgment.

XXII.— THE FABLE OF ENDYMION.

EXPLAINED OK COURT FAVOURITES.

THE goddess Luna is said to have fallen in love with the shepherd
Kndymion, and to have carried on her amours with him in a new and
singular manner ; it being her custom, whilst he lay reposing in his
native cave, under Mount Latmus, to descend frequently from her
sphere, enjoy his company whilst he slept, and then go up to heaven
again. And all this while, Kndymion's fortune was no way prejudiced
by his unactivc and sleepy life, the goddess causing his flocks to
thrive, and grow so exceeding numerous, that none of the other
shepherds could compare with him.

EXPLANATION. — This fable seems to describe the tempers and
dispositions of princes, who, being thoughtful and suspicious, do not
easily admit to their privacies such men as arc prying, curious, and
vigilant, or, as it were, sleepless ; but rather such as arc of an easy,
obliging nature, and indulge them in their pleasures, without seeking
anything farther; but seeming ignorant, insensible, or, as it were,
lulled asleep before them. Princes usually treat such persons

450 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

fa-miliarly ; and, quitting their throne like Luna, think they may with
safety unbosom to them. This temper was very remarkable to
Tiberius, a prince exceeding difficult to please, and who had no
favourites but those that perfectly understood his way, and, at the
same time, obstinately dissembled their knowledge, almost to a degree
.Df stupidity.

The cave is not improperly mentioned in the fable ; it being a
common thing for the favourites of a prince to have their pleasant
retreats, whither to invite him, by way of relaxation, though without
prejudice to their own fortunes; these favourites usually making a
good provision for themselves.

For though their prince should not, perhaps, promote them to
dignities, yet, out of real affection, and not only for convenience, they
generally feel the enriching influence of his bounty.

XXIII.— THE FABLE OF NEMESIS.

EXPLAINED OF THE REVERSES OF FORTUNE.

NEMESIS is represented as a goddess venerated by all, but feared
by the powerful and the fortunate. She is said to be the daughter of
Nox and Oceanus. She is drawn with wings, and a crown ; a javelin
of ash in her right hand ; a glass containing Ethiopians in her left ;
and riding upon a stag.

EXPLANATION. — The fable receives this explanation. The word
Nemesis manifestly signifies revenge or retribution ; for the office of
this goddess consisted in interposing, like the Roman tribunes, with an
"I forbid it" in all courses of constant and perpetual felicity, so as
not only to chastise haughtiness, but also to repay even innocent and
moderate happiness with adversity ; as if it were decreed, that none of
human race should be admitted to the banquet of the gods, but for
sport. And, indeed, to read over that chapter of Pliny wherein he has
collected the miseries and misfortunes of Augustus Caesar, whom of
<all mankind one would judge most fortunate, — as he had a certain art
of using and enjoying prosperity, with a mind no way tumid, light,
effeminate, confused, or melancholic,— one cannot but think this a
very great and powerful goddess, who could bring such a victim to her
altar.*

The parents of this goddess were Oceanus and Nox ; that is, the
fluctuating change of things, and the obscure and secret divine decrees.
The changes of things are aptly represented by the Ocean, on account
of its perpetual ebbing and flowing ; and secret providence is justly

* As she also brought the author himself.

WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 451

expressed by Night. Even the heathens have observM this secret
Nemesis of the nighi, or the difference betwixt divins and human
judgment.*

Wings arc given to Nemesis, because of the sudden end unforeseen
changes of things ; for, from the earliest account of time, it has been
common for great and prudent men to fall by the dangers they most
despised. Thus Cicero, when admonished by Brutus of the infidelity
and rancour of Octavius, coolly wrote back, " I cannot, however, but
be obliged to you, Brutus, as I ought, for informing me, though of such
a trifle."

Nemesis also has her crown, by reason of the invidious and
malignant nature of the vulgar, who generally rejoice, triumph, and
crown her, at the fall of the fortunate and the powerful. And for the
javelin in her right hand, it has regard to those whom she has actually
struck and transfixed. But whoever escapes her stroke, or feels not
actual calamity or misfortune, she affrights with a black and dismal
sight in her left hand ; for doubtless, mortals on the highest pinnacle
of felicity have a prospect of death, disco jcs, calamities, perfidious
friends, undermining enemies, reverses of fortune, etc., represented
by the Ethiopians in her glass. Thus Virgil, with great elegance,
describing the battle of Actlum, cays of Cleopatra, that, "she did not
yet perceive the two asps behind her ;' f but soon after, which way
soever she turned, she saw whole troops of Ethiopians still before her.

Lastly, it is significantly added, that Nemesis rides upon a stag,
which is a very long-lived creature; fcr though perhaps some, by an
untimely death in youth, may prevent or escape this goddess, yet they
who enjoy a long flow of happiness and power, doubtless become
subject to her at length, and are brought to yield.

XXIV.— THE FABLE OF CYCLOP'S DEATH.

EXPLAINED OF UASE COURT OFFICERS.

IT is related that the Cyclops, for their savagcncss and cruelty,
were by Jupiter first thrown into Tartarus, and there condemned to
perpetual imprisonment : but that afterwards, Tellus persuaded Jupiter
it would be for his service to release them, and employ them in forging
thunderbolts. This he accordingly did ; and they, with unwearied
pains and diligence, hammered out his bolts, and other instruments of
terror, with a frightful and continual din of the anvil.

• " eadit Riphcus, justissimus unus.

Qui fuit ex T«ucris, el scrvantissirnus acqui :
IJiis alitcr visum."

t kcgina in mcdiis patrio vocal agmina iistro ;
Nccdum ctiam gcminos a tergo respicit angucs."

452 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

It happened long after, that Jupiter was displeased with ^Esculapius,
the son of Apollo, for having, by the art of medicine, restored a. dead
man to life ; but concealing his indignation, because the action in
itself was pious and illustrious, he secretly incensed the Cyclops
against him, who, without remorse, presently slew him with their
thunderbolts: in revenge whereof, Apollo, with Jupiter's connivance,
shot them all dead with his arrows.

EXPLANATION. — This fable seems to point at the behaviour of
princes, who, having cruel, bloody, and oppressive ministers, first
punish and displace them ; but afterwards, by the advice of Tcllus,
that is, some earthly-minded and ignoble person, employ them again,
to serve a turn, when there is occasion for cruelty in execution, or
severity in exaction : but these ministers, being base in their nature,
whet by their former disgrace, and well aware of what is expected from
them, use double diligence in their office ; till, proceeding unwarily, and
over eager to gain favour, they sometimes, from the private nods, and
ambiguous orders of their prince, perform some odious or execrable
action. When princes, to decline the envy themselves, and knowing
they shall never want such tools at their back, drop them, and give
them up to the friends and followers of the injured person ; thus
exposing them, as sacrifices to revenge and popular odium : whence
with great applause, acclamations, and good wishes to the prince, these
miscreants at last meet with their desert.

XXV.— THE FABLE OF THE GIANTS' SISTER.

EXPLAINED OF PUBLIC DETRACTION.

THE poets relate, that the giants, produced from the earth, made
war upon Jupiter and the other gods, but were repulsed and conquered
by thunder ; whereat the earth, provoked, brought forth Fame, the
youngest sister of the giants, in revenge for the death of her sons.

EXPLANATION. — The meaning of the fable seems to be this : the
earth denotes the nature of the vulgar, who are always swelling, and
rising against their rulers, and endeavouring at changes. This disposi
tion, getting a fit opportunity, breeds rebels and traitors, who, with
impetuous rage, threaten and contrive the overthrow and destruction of
princes.

And when brought under and subdued, the same vile and restless
nature of the people, impatient of peace, produces rumours, detrac
tions, slanders, libels, etc., to blacken those in authority ; so that re
bellious actions and seditious rumours, differ not in origin and stock,
but only as it were in sex ; treasons and rebellions beir^g the brother*,
and scandal or detraction the sister.

M'/SDOM OF THE AXCIRNFS. 453

XXVI.— THE FARLE OF TYPIION.

EXPLAINED OF REBELLION.

THE fable runs, that Juno, enraged at Jupiter's bringing forth Pallas
without her assistance, incessantly solicited all the gods and goddesses,
that she might produce without Jupiter: and having by violence and
importunity obtained the grant, she struck the earth, and thence im
mediately sprung up Typhon, a huge and dreadful monster, whom she
committed to the nursing of a serpent. As soon as he was grown up,
this monster waged war on Jupiter, and taking him prisoner in the
battle, carried him away on his shoulders, into a remote and obscure
quarter : and there cutting out the sinews of his hands and feet, he
bore them off, leaving Jupiter behind miserably maimed and mangled.

But Mercury afterwards stole these sinews from Typhon, and
restored them to Jupiter. Hence, recovering his strength, Jupiter
again pursues the monster ; first wounds him with a stroke of his
thunder, when serpents arose from the blood of the wound : and now
the monster being dismayed, and taking to flight, Jupiter next darted
Mount /Etna upon him, and crushed him with the weight.

EXPLANATION. — This fable seems designed to express the various
fates of kings, and the turns that rebellions sometimes take, in
kingdoms. For princes may be justly esteemed married to their
states, as Jupiter to Juno : but it sometimes happens, that, being
depraved by long wielding of the sceptre, and growing tyrannical, they
would engross all to themselves; and slighting the counsel of their
senators and nobles, conceive by themselves ; that is, govern according
to their own arbitrary will and pleasure. This inflames the people,
and makes them endeavour to create and set up some head of their
own. Such designs arc generally set on foot by the secret motion and
instigation of the peers and nobles, under whose connivance the
common sort are prepared for rising : whence proceeds a swell in the
state, which is appositely denoted by the nursing of Typhon. This
growing posture of affairs is fed by the natural depravity, and ma
lignant dispositions of the vulgar, which to kings is an envenomed
serpent. And now the disaffected, uniting their force, at length break
out into open rebellion, which, producing infinite mischiefs, both to
prince and people, is represented by the horrid and multiplied de
formity of Typhon, with his hundred heads, denoting the divided
powers ; his flaming mouths, denoting fire and devastation ; his
girdles of snakes, denoting sieges and destruction ; his iron hands,
daughter and cruelty; his eagle's talons, rapine and plunder; his
plumed body, perpetual rumours, contradictory accounts, etc. And
sometimes these rebellions grow so high, that kings are obliged, as if
carried on the backs of the rebels, to quit the throne, and retire to

454 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

some remote and obscure part of their dominions, with the loss of
their sinews, both of money and majesty.

But if now they prudently bear this reverse of fortune, they may,
in a short time, by the assistance of Mercury, recover their sinewf
again ; that is, by becoming moderate and affable ; reconciling the
minds and affections of the people to them, by gracious speeches, and
prudent proclamations, which will win over the subject cheerfully to
afford new aids and supplies, and add fresh vigour to authority. But
prudent and wary princes here seldom incline to try fortune by a war,
yet do their utmost, by some grand exploit, to crush the reputation of
the rebels : and if the attempt succeeds, the rebels, conscious of the
wound received, and distrustful of their cause, first betake themselves
to broken and empty threats, like the hissings of serpents ; and next;
when matters are grown desperate, to flight. And now, when they
thus begin to shrink, it is safe and seasonable for kings to pursue therr
with their forces, and the whole strength of the kingdom; thus
effectually quashing and suppressing them, as it were by the weight of
a mountain.

XXVII.— THE FABLE OF ACHELOUS.

EXPLAINED OF WAR BY INVASION.

THE ancients relate, that Hercules and Achelous being rivals in the
courtship of Deianira, the matter was contested by single combat ;
when Achelous having transformed himself, as he had power to do,
into various shapes, by way of trial ; at length, in the form of a fierce
wild bull, prepares himself for the fight; but Hercules still retains his
human shape, engages sharply with him, and in the issue broke off
one of the bull's horns ; and now Achelous, in great pain and fright,
to redeem his horn, presents Hercules with the cornucopia.

EXPLANATION. — This fable relates to military expeditions and pre
parations ; for the preparation of war on the defensive side, here
denoted by Achelous, appears in various shapes, whilst the invading
side has but one simple form, consisting either in an army, or perhaps
a. fleet. But the country that expects the invasion is employed in
infinite ways, in fortifying towns, blockading passes, rivers, and ports,
raising soldiers, disposing garrisons, building and breaking down
bridges, procuring aids, securing provisions, arms, ammunition, etc.
So that there appears a new phase of things every day ; and at length,
when the country is sufficiently fortified and prepared, it represents to
the life the form and threats of a fierce fighting bull.

On the other side, the invader presses on to the fight, fearing to
be distressed in an enemy's country. And if after the battle he

WISDOM OF THE AXCIENTS. 455

remains master of the field, and has now broke, as it were, the horn of
his enemy, the besieged, of course, retire inglorious, affrighted, and
dismayed, to their stronghold, there endeavouring to secure themselves,
and repair their strength ; leaving, at the same time, their country a
prey to the conqueror, which is well expressed by the Amalthcan horn,
or cornucopia.

XXVIII.— THE FABLE OF DAEDALUS.

EXPLAINED OF ARTS AND ARTISTS IN KINGDOMS AND STATES.

THE ancients have left us a description of mechanical skill, industry,
and curious arts converted to ill uses, in the person of Da?dalus,
a most ingenious but execrable artist. This Duxlalus was banished
for the murder of his brother artist and rival, yet found a kind recep
tion in his banishment from the kings and states where he came. He
raised many incomparable edifices to the honour of the gods, and
invented many new contrivances for the beautifying and ennobling
of cities and public places, but still he was most famous for wicked
inventions. Among the rest, by his abominable industry and des
tructive genius he assisted in the fatal and infamous production of
the monster Minotaur, that devourcr of promising youths. And then,
to cover one mischief with another, and provide for the security of
this monster, he invented and built a labyrinth ; a work infamous for
its end and design, but admirable and prodigious for art and work
manship. After this, that he might not only be celebrated for wicked
inventions^ but be sought after, as well for prevention, as for instru
ments of mischief, he formed that ingenious device of his clue, which
led directly through all the windings of the labyrinth. This Da-dalus
was persecuted by Minos with the utmost severity, diligence, and
inquiry; but he always found refuge and means of escaping. Lastly,
endeavouring to teach his son Icarus the art of flying, the novice,
trusting too much to his wings, fell from his towering flight, and was
drowned in the sea.

EXPLANATION. — The sense of the fable nms thus. It first denotes
envy, which is continually upon the watch, and strangely prevails
among excellent artificers ; for no kind of people arc observed to be
more implacably and destructively envious to one another than these.

In the next place, it observes an impolitic and improvident kind of
punishment inflicted upon D;tdalus, — that of banishment ; for good
workmen arc gladly received everywhere, so that banishment to an
excellent artificer is scarce any punishment at all ; whereas other
conditions of life cannot easily flourish from home. For the admiration
of artists is propagated and increased among foreigners and strangers;
it being a principle in the minds of men to slight and despise tno
mechanical operators of their own nation.

456 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

The succeeding part of the fable is plain, concerning the use of
mechanic arts, whereto human life stands greatly indebted, as receiving
from this treasury numerous particulars for the service of religion, the
ornament of civil society, and the whole provision and apparatus of
life ; but then the same magazine supplies instruments of lust, cruelty,
and death. For, not to mention the arts of luxury and debauchery,
ive plainly see how far the business of exquisite poisons, guns, engines
of war, and such kind of destructive inventions, exceeds the cruelty
and barbarity of the Minotaur himself.

The addition of the labyrinth contains a beautiful allegory, repre
senting the nature of mechanic arts in general ; for all ingenious and
accurate mechanical inventions may be conceived as a labyrinth,
which, by reason of their subtilty, intricacy, crossing and interfering
with one another, and the apparent resemblances they have among
themselves, scarce any power of the judgment can unravel and dis
tinguish ; so that they are only to be understood and traced by the
clue of experience.

It is no less prudently added that he who invented the windings of
the labyrinth, should also show the use and management of the clue;
for mechanical arts have an ambiguous or double use, and serve as
well to produce as to prevent mischief and destruction : so that their
virtue almost destroys or unwinds itself.

Unlawful arts, and indeed frequently arts themselves, are perse
cuted by Minos, that is, by laws which prohibit and forbid their use
among the people ; but notwithstanding this, they are hid, concealed,
retained, and everywhere find reception and skulking-places ; a thing
well observed by Tacitus of the astrologers and fortune-tellers of his
time. " These," says he. " are a kind of men that will always be
prohibited, and yet will always be retained in our city."

But lastly, all unlawful and vain arts, of what kind soever lose
their reputation in tract of time ; grow contemptible and perish,
through their over confidence, like Icarus ; being commonly unable to
perform what they boasted. And to say the truth, such arts are better
suppressed by their own vain pretensions, than checked or restrained
by the bridle of laws.

XXIX.— THE FABLE OF DIONYSUS.

EXPLAINED OF THE PASSIONS.

THE fable runs, that Semele, Jupiter's mistress, having bound him
by an inviolable oath to grant her an unknown request, desired he
would embrace her in the same form and manner he used to embrace
Juno ; and the promise being irrevocable, she was burnt to death
with lightning in the performance. The embryo, however, was sewed
up, and carried in Jupiter's thigh till the complete time of its birth j

WISDOM OF THE ANCIEXTS.

but the burthen thus rendering the father lame, and causing him pain,
the child was thence called Dionysus. When born, he was com
mitted for some years, to be nursed by Proserpine ; and when grown
up, appeared with so effeminate a face, that his sex seemed somewhat
doubtful. He also died, and was buried for a time, but afterwaius
revived. When a youth, he first introduced the cultivation and
dressing of vines, the method of preparing wine, and taught the use
thereof ; whence becoming famous, he subdued the world, even to the
utmost bounds of the Indies. He rode in a chariot drawn by tigers.
There danced about him certain deformed demons called Cobali, etc.
The Muses also joined in his train. He married Ariadne, who was
deserted by Theseus. The ivy was sacred to him. He was also
held the inventor and institutor of religious rites and ceremonies, but
such as were wild, frantic, and full of corruption and cruelty. He had
also the power of striking men with frenzies. Pentheus and Orpheus
were torn to pieces by the frantic women at his orgies ; the first for
climbing a tree to behold their outrageous ceremonies, and the other
for the music of his harp. But the acts of this god are much entangled
and confounded with those of Jupiter.

EXPLANATION. — This fable seems to contain a little system of
morality, so that there is scarce any better invention in all ethics.
Under the history of Bacchus is drawn the nature of unlawful desire
or affection, and disorder ; for the appetite and thirst of apparent gooa
is the mother of all unlawful desire, though ever so destructive,
and all unlawful desires are conceived in unlawful wishes or requests,
rashly indulged or granted before they arc well understood or con
sidered, and when the affection begins to grow warm, the mother of it
(the nature of good) is destroyed and burnt up by the heat. And whilst
»n unlawful desire lies in the embryo, or unripcncd in the mind,
which is its father, and here represented by Jupiter, it is cherished and
concealed, especially in the inferior parts of the mind, corresponding
to the thigh of the body, where pain twitches and depresses the mind
so far as to render its resolutions and actions imperfect and lame.
And even after this child of the mind is confirmed, and gains strength
by consent and habit, and comes forth into action, it must still be
nursed by Proserpine for a time : that is, it skulks and hides its head
in a clandestine manner, as it were, under ground, till at length, when
the checks of shame and fear arc removed, and the requisite boldness
acquired, it cither resumes the pretext of some virtue, or openly de
spises infamy. And it is justly observed, that every vehement passion
appears of a doubtful sex, as having the strength of a man at first, but
at last the impotence of a woman. It is also excellently added, that
Bacchus died and rose again ; for the affections sometimes seem to
die and be no more ; but there is no trusting them, even though they
were buried, being always apt and ready to rise again whenever the
occasion or object offers.

That Bacchus should be the inventor of wine carries a fine allegory
with it ; for every affection is cunning and subtile in discovering

458 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

a proper matter to nourish and feed it ; and of all things known
to mortals, wine is the most powerful and effectual for exciting and
inflaming passions of all kinds, being indeed like a common fuel
to all.

It is again with great elegance observed of Bacchus, that he
subdued provinces, and undertook endless expeditions, for the affec
tions never rest satisfied with what they enjoy, but with an endless
and insatiable appetite thirst after something further. And tigers
are prettily feigned to draw the chariot ; for as soon as any affection
shall, from going on foot, be advanced to ride, it triumphs over
reason, and exerts its cruelty, fierceness, and strength against all that
oppose it.

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

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

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

Nor is it without a mystery that the ivy was sacred to Bacchus,
and this for two reasons: first, because ivy is an evergreen, or
flourishes in the winter; and secondly, because it winds and creeps
about so many things, as trees, walls, and buildings, and raises itself
above them. As to the first, every passion grows fresh, strong, and
vigorous by opposition and prohibition, as it were, by a kind of
contrast or antipcristasis, like the ivy in the winter. And for the
second, the predominant passion of the mind throws itself, like
the ivy, round all human actions, entwines all our resolutions, and
perpetually adheres to, and mixes itself among, or even overtops
them.

And no wonder that superstitious rites and ceremonies are attri
buted to Bacchus, when almost every ungovernable passion grows
wanton and luxurious in corrupt religions ; nor again, that fury and
frenzy should be sent and dealt out by him, because every passion
is a short frenzy, and if it be vehement, lasting, and take deep root

WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 459

it terminates in madness. And hence the allegory of Pcnthcus and
Orpheus being torn to pieces is evident ; for every headstrong passion
is extremely bitter, severe, inveterate, and revengeful upon all curious
inquiry, wholesome admonition, free counsel and persuasion.

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

XXX.-THE FABLE OF PERSEUS, OR WAR.

EXPLAINED OF THE PREPARATION AND CONDUCT NECESSARY

TO WAR.

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

This fable seems invented to show the prudent method of choosing,
undertaking, and conducting a war ; and, accordingly, lays down three
useful precepts about it, as if they were the precepts of Pallas.

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

460 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

regarded instead of vicinity. It is certain that the Romans, at the
time they stretched but little beyond Liguria to the west, had by
their arms subdued the provinces as far as Mount Taurus to the east.
And thus Perseus readily undertook a very long expedition, even from
the east to the extremities of the west.

The second precept is, that the cause of the war be just and honour
able ; for this adds alacrity both to the soldiers, and the people who find
the supplies ; procures aids, alliances, and numerous other conveniences.
Now there is no cause of war more just and laudable, than the sup
pression of tyranny, by which a people are dispirited, benumbed, or
left without life and vigour, as at the sight of Medusa.

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

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

The allegory of Pluto's helmet, rendering men invisible and secret,
is sufficiently evident of itself ; but the mystery of the shield and the
mirror lies deeper, and denotes, that not only a prudent caution must
be had to defend, like the shield, but also such an address and penetra
tion as may discover the strength, the motions, the counsels, and
designs of the enemy ; like the mirror of Pallas.

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

These Greae, therefore, must be prevailed upon by Perseus to lend
him their eye and their tooth ; the eye to give him indications, and
make discoveries ; the tooth for sowing rumours, raising envy, and

WISDOM OF THE AXCIENTS.

stirring up the minds of the people. And when all these things arc
thus disposed and prepared, then follows the action of the war.

He hnds Medusa asleep ; for whoever undertakes a war with pru
dence, generally falls upon the enemy unprepared, and nearly in a state
of security ; and here is the occasion for Pallas's mirror : for it is
common enough, before the danger presents itself, to see exactly into
the state and posture of the enemy ; but the principal use of the glass
is, in the very instant of danger, to discover the manner thereof, and
prevent consternation ; which is the thing intended by I'crscus's turn
ing his head aside, and viewing the enemy in the glass.

Two effects here follow the conquest: i. The darting forth of
Pegasus ; which evidently denotes fame, and flies abroad, proclaiming
the victory far and near. 2. The bearing of Medusa's head in the
shield, which is the greatest possible defence and safeguard ; for one
grand and memorable enterprise, happily accomplished, bridles all the
motions and attempts of the enemy, stupitics disaffection, and quells
commotions.

XXXI.— THE FABLE OF PAN, OR NATURE,

EXPLAINED OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY.

THE ancients have, with great exactness, delineated universal
nature under the person of Pan. They leave his origin doubtful ; some
asserting him the son of Mercury, and others the common offspring of
all Penelope's suitors. 'I he latter supposition doubtless occasioned some
later rivals to entitle this ancient fable Penelope ; a thing frequently
practised when the earlier relations are applied to more modem
characters and persons, though sometimes with great absurdity and
ignorance, as in the present case ; for Pan was one of the ancientest
gods, and long before the time of Ulysses ; besides, Penelope was
venerated by antiquity for her matronal chastity. A third sort will
have him the issue of Jupiter and Hybris, that is Reproach. But what
ever his origin was, the Destinies arc allowed his sisters.

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

His attributes and titles were the god of hunters, shepherds, and all
the rural inhabitants ; president of the mountains; and, after Mercury,
the next messenger of the gods. He was also held the leader am'
ruler of the Nymphs who continually danced and frisked about him,
attended with the Satyrs and their ciders, the Silcni. He had also the
power of striking terrors, especially such as were vain and superstitious ;
whence they came to be called panic terrors.

Few actions arc recorded of him, only a principal one is, that he
challenged Cupid at wrestling, and was worsted. He also catchcd tho

462 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

giant Typhon in a net, and held him fast. They relate farther of him,
that when Ceres, growing disconsolate for the rape of Proserpine, hid
herself, and all the gods took the utmost pains to find her, by going
out different ways for that purpose, Pan only had the good fortune to
meet her, as he was hunting, and discovered her to the rest. He like
wise had the assurance to rival Apollo in music ; and in the judgment
of Midas was preferred ; but the judge had, though with great privacy
and secrecy, a pair of ass's ears fastened on him for his sentence.

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

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

This fable is perhaps the noblest of all antiquity, and pregnant with
the mysteries and secrets of nature. Pan, as the name imports, re
presents the universe, about whose origin there are two opinions, viz.,
that it either sprung from Mercury, that is, the divine word, according
to the Scriptures and philosophical divines, or from the confused seeds
of things. For they who allow only one beginning of all things, either
ascribe it to God ; or if they suppose a material beginning, acknow
ledge it to be various in its powers ; so that the whole dispute comes to
these points ; viz., either that nature proceeds from Mercury, or from
Penelope and all her suitors.*

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

The Destinies, or the natures and fates of things, are justly made
Pan's sisters, as the chain of natural causes links together the rise,
duration, and corruption: the exaltation, degeneration, and works;
the processes, the effects, and changes, of all that can any way happen
to things.

* " Namque canebat uti magnum per inane coacta
Semina terrarumque animceque marisque fuissent ;
Et liquid! simul ignis ; ut his exordia primis
Omnia, et ipse ten*r mundi concreverit orbis." — Virgil, Eel. vi. 31.

WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 463

Horns arc given him, broad at the roots, but narrow and sharp at
the top, because the nature of all things seems pyramidal ; for indivi
duals arc infinite, but being collected into a variety of species, they rise
up into kinds, and these again ascend, and arc contracted into gene
rals, till at length nature may seem collected to a point. And no
wonder if Pan's horns reach to the heavens, since the sublimities of
nature, or abstract ideas, reach in a manner to things divine ; for there
is a short and ready passage from metaphysics to natural theology.

Pan's body, or the body of nature, is, with great propriety and ele
gance, painted shaggy and hairy, as representing the rays of things ;
for rays arc as the hair, or fleece of nature, and more or less worn by all
bodies. This evidently appears in vision, and in all effects or opera
tions at a distance ; for whatever operates thus may be properly said
to emit rays. Hut particularly the beard of Pan is exceeding long,
because the rays of the celestial bodies penetrate, and act to a prodi
gious distance, and have descended into the interior of the earth so far
as to change its surface ; and the sun himself, when clouded on its
upper part, appears to the eye bearded.

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

There lies a curious allegory in the making of Pan goatfootcd, on
account of the motion of ascent which the terrestrial bodies have
towards the air and heavens ; for the goat is a clambering creature,
that delights in climbing up rocks and precipices ; and in the same
manner the matters destined to this lower globe strongly affect to rise
upwards, as appears from the clouds and meteors.

Pan's arms, or the ensigns he bears in his hands, arc of two kinds —
the one an emblem of harmony, the other of empire. His pipe, com
posed of seven reeds, plainly denotes the consent and harmony, or the
concords and discords of things, produced by the motion of the seven
planets. His crook also contains a fine representation of the ways of
nature, which are partly straight and partly crooked ; thus the staff,
having an extraordinary bend towards the top, denotes that the works
of Divine Providence arc generally brought about by remote means, or
in a circuit, as if somewhat else were intended rather than the effect
produced, as in the sending of Joseph into Kgypt, etc. So likewise in
human government, they who sit at the helm manage and wind the
people more successfully by pretext and oblique courses, than they
could by such as arc direct and straight ; so that, in effect, all sceptres
are crooked at the top.

464 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

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

The office of Pan could not be more livelily expressed than by
making him the god of hunters ; for every natural action, every motion
and process, is no other than a chase : thus arts and sciences hunt
out their works, and human schemes and counsels their several ends ;
and all living creatures cither hunt out their aliment, pursue their prey,
or seek their pleasures, and this in a skilful and sagacious manner.*
He is also styled the god of the rural inhabitants, because men in this
situation live more according to nature than they do in cities and
courts, where nature is so corrupted with effeminate arts, that the
saying of the poet may be verified—

pars minima est ipsa puella sui.

He is likewise particularly styled President of the Mountains, because
in mountains and lofty places the nature of things lies more open and
exposed to the eye and the understanding.

In his being called the messenger of the gods, next after Mercury,
lies a divine allegory, as next after the Word of God, the image of the
world is the herald of the Divine power and wisdom, according to the
expression of the Psalmist, " The heavens declare the glory of God,
and the firmament showcth his handiwork."

Pan is delighted with the company of the Nymphs ; that is, the souls
of all living creatures are the delight of the world ; and he is properly
called their governor, because each of them follows its own nature as
a leader, and all dance about their own respective rings, with infinite
variety and never-ceasing motion. And with these continually join
the Satyrs and Sileni ; that is, youth and age ; for all things have a
kind of young, cheerful, and dancing time ; and again their time of
slowness, tottering, and creeping. And whoever, in a true light, con
siders the motions and endeavours of both these ages, like another
Dcmocritus, will perhaps find them as odd and strange as the gesticu
lations and antic motions of the Satyrs and Sileni.

The power he had of striking terrors contains a very sensible
doctrine ; for nature has implanted fear in all living creatures ; as well
to keep them from risking their lives, as to guard against injuries and
violence ; and yet this nature or passion keeps not its bounds, but with
just and profitable fears always mixes such as are vain and senseless ;
so that all things, if we could see their insides, would appear full of
panic terrors. Thus mankind, particularly the vulgar, labour under a
high degree of superstition, which is nothing more than a panic-dread
that principally reigns in unsettled and troublesome times.

* "Torva leaena lupum sequitur, lupus ipse capcllam :
Florcntem cytisum sequitur Usciva capella."

WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 465

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

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

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

The event of his contending with Apollo in music affords us a use
ful instruction, that may help to humble the human reason and judg
ment, which is too apt to boast and glory in itself. There seems to be
two kinds of harmony— the one of Divine Providence, the other of
human reason ; but the government of the world, the administration
of its affairs, and the more secret Divine judgments, sound harsh and
dissonant to human ears or human judgment ; and though this ignorance
be justly rewarded with asses' cars, yet they are put on and worn, not
ojxinly, but with great secrecy ; nor is the deformity of the thing seen
or observed by the vulgar.

We must not find it strange if no amours are related of Pan besides
his marriage with Echo ; for nature enjoys itself, and in itself all other
things. He that loves desires enjoyment, but in profusion there is no
room for desire ; and therefore Pan, remaining content with himself,
lias no passion unless it be for discourse, which is well shadowed out
by Echo or talk, or when it is more accurate, by Syrinx or writing.
But Echo makes a most excellent wife for Pan, as being no other than
genuine philosophy, which faithfully repeats his words, or only tran
scribes exactly as nature dictates ; thus representing the true image
and reflection of the world without adding a tittle.

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

Lastly, for the supposed or spurious prattling daughter of Pan, it is

466

WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS.

an excellent addition to the fable, and aptly represents the talkative
philosophies that have at all times been stirring, and filled the world
with idle tales, being ever barren, empty, and servile, though some
times indeed diverting and entertaining, and sometimes again trouble
some and importunate.

NKW ATLANTIS.

A WORK UNFINISHED.

IV ri I ten by the Right Honourable Francis Lord Venilctrr.,
Viscount 67. A I bans.

TO THE READER.

This fable my lord devised, to the end that he might exhibit therein a model 01
description of a college, instituted for the interpreting of nature, and the producing
of great and marvellous works for the benefit of man, under ihe name of Solomon's
House, or the College of the Six Days' Works. And even so far his lordship hath
proceeded as to finish that part. Certainly the model is more vast and high than
can possibly be imitated in a.'', things, notwithstanding most things therein are
within men's power to effect. His lordship thought also in this present fable to
have composed a frame of laws, or the best state or mould of a commonwealth ;
but foreseeing it would be a long work, his desire of collecting the natural history
diverted him, which he preferred many degrees before it. This work of the New
Atlantis (as much as conccrneih the English edition) his lordship designed for this
place..

W. RAWLKY.

NKW ATLANTIS.

WE sailed from Peru, where we had continued for the space of one
whole year, for China and Japan, by the South Sea, taking with us
victuals for twelve months, and had good winds from the cast, though
soft and weak, for five months' space and more ; but then the wind
came about, and settled in the west for many days, so as we could
make little or no way, and were sometimes in purpose to turn back.
But then again there arose strong and great winds from the south,
with a point east, which carried us up, for all that we could do,
towards the north ; by which time our victuals failed us, though we
had made good spare of them. So that, finding ourselves in the midst
of the greatest wilderness of waters in the world, without victuals, we
gave ourselves for lost men, and prepared for death. Yet we did lift
up our hearts and voices to God above, " who showeth his wonders in
the deep," beseeching him of his mercy, that as in the beginning he
discovered the face of the deep, and brought forth dry land, so he
would now discover land to us, that we might not perish. And it came
to pass that the next day about evening we saw, within a kenning

468 NEW A TLANTIS.

before us, towards the north, as it were, thicker clouds, which did put
us in some hope of land ; knowing how that part of the South Sea
was utterly unknown, and might have islands or continents that
hitherto were not come to light. Wherefore we bent our course
thither, where we saw the appearance of land all that night ; and in
the dawning of the next day we might plainly discern that it was a
land Hat to our sight, and full of boscage, which made it show the
more dark : and after an hour and a halfs sailing we entered into a
good haven, being the port of a fair city, not great indeed, but well
built, and that gave a pleasant view from the sea. And we, thinking
every minute long till we were on land, came close to the shore, and
offered to land ; but straightways we saw divers of the people with
bastons in their hand, as it were forbidding us to land, yet without any
cries or fierceness, but only as warning us off by signs that they made.
Whereupon, being not a little discomforted, we were advising with
ourselves what we should do. During which time there made forth to
us a small boat with about eight persons in it, whereof one of them
had in his hand a tipstaff of a yellow cane, tipped at both ends with
blue, who made aboard our ship without any show of distrust at all.
And when he saw one of our number present himself somewhat afore
the rest, he drew forth a little scroll of parchment, somewhat yellower
than our parchment, and shining like the leaves of writing-tables, but
otherwise soft and flexible, and delivered it to our foremost man. In
which scroll were written, in ancient Hebrew, and in ancient Greek,
and in good Latin of the school, and in Spanish, these words, " Land
ye not, none of you, and provide to be gone from this coast within
sixteen days, except you have further time given you : meanwhile, if
you want fresh water, or victual, or help for your sick, or that your
ship needeth repair, write down your wants, and you shall have that
which belongeth to mercy." This scroll was signed with a stamp of
cherubim's wings, not spread, but hanging downwards, and by them a
cross. This being delivered, the officer returned, and left only a servant
with us to receive our answer. Consulting hereupon amongst ourselves,
we were much perplexed. The denial of landing, and hasty warning
us away, troubled us much. On the other side, to find that the people
had languages, and were so full of humanity, did comfort us not a little ;
and, above all, the sign of the cross to that instrument was to us a
great rejoicing, and, as it were, a certain presage of good. Our answer
was in the Spanish tongue, " That for our ship it was well, for we had
rather met with calms and contrary winds than any tempests. For
our sick, they were many, and in very ill case, so that if they were not
permitted to land, they ran in danger of their lives." Our other wants
we set down in particular, adding, " That we had some little store of
merchandise, which, if \\ pleased them to deal for, it might supply our
wants without being chargeable unto them." We offered some reward
in pistolets unto the servant, and a piece of crimson velvet to be pre
sented to the officer ; but the servant took them not, nor would scarce
look upon them ; and s<r ^eft us, and went back in another little boat
\vhich was sent for him.

NE W A TLANTIS. 469

About three hours after we had despatched our answer, there came
towards us a person, as it seemed, of place. He had on him a gown,
with wide sleeves of a kind of water-chainlet, of an excellent azure
colour, far more glossy than ours ; his undcr-apparcl was green, and
so was his hat, being in the form of a turban, daintily made, and not
so huge as the Turkish turbans ; and the locks of his hair came down
below the brims of it. A reverend man was he to behold. He came
in a boat, gilt in some part of it, with four persons more only in that
boat, and was followed by another boat, wherein were some twenty.
When he was come within a llight-shot of cur ship, signs were made
to us that we should send forth sonic to meet him upon the water :
which we presently did in our ship's boat, sending the principal man
amongst us, save one, and four of our number with him. When we
were come within six yards of their boat, they called to us to stay,
and not to approach further, which we did. And thereupon the man
whom I before described stood up, and with a loud voice, in Spanish,
asked, " Are ye Christians?" We answered, "We were i" fearing the
less because of the cross we had seen in the subscription. At which
answer the said person lifted up his right haul towards heaven, and
drew it softly to his mouth, which is the ^es.iirc they use when they
thank God, and then said, " If you will swear, all of you, by the merits
of the Saviour, that ye arc no pirates, nor have shed blood, lawfully or
unlawfully, within forty days past, you may have license to come on
land. We said, "We were all ready to take that oath." Whereupon
one of those that were with him, being, as it seemed, a notary, made
an entry of this act. Which done, another of the attendants of the
great person, who was with him in the same boat, after his lord had
spoken a little to him, said aloud, " My lord would have you know
that it is not of pride or greatness that he cometh not aboard your
ship ; but for that in your answer you declare that you have many
sick amongst you, he was warned by the conservator of health of the
city that he should keep at a distance." We bowed ourselves towards
him, and answered, " We were his humble servants ; and accounted
for great honour and singular humanity towards us that which was
already done ; but hoped well that the nature of the sickness of our
men was not infectious." So he returned ; and a while after came the
notary to us aboard our ship, holding in his hand a fruit of thai
country, like an orange, but of colour between orange-tawny and
scarlet, which casts a most excellent odour : he used it, as it secmcth,
for a preservative against infection. He gave us our oath, " By the
name of Jesus and his merits ;" and aftei told us that the next day, by
six o'clock in the morning, we should l>c sent to, and brought to the
Strangers'- House, so he called it, where we should be accommodated
of things both lor our whole and for our sick. So he left us ; and
when we offered him some pistolets, he, smiling, said, " He must not
be twice paid for one labour ; " meaning, as I take it,that he had salary
sufficient of the state for his service ; for, as I after learned, they call
an officer that takcth rewards " twice paid."

The next mousing early there came to us the same officer that came

470 NEW A TLANTIS.

to us at first with his cane, and told us, " He came to conduct us to the
Strangers'-House, and that he had prevented the hour, because we
might have the whole day before us for our business : for," said he, " if
you will follow my advice, there shall first go with me some few of you
und see the place, and how it may be made convenient for you ; and
then you may send for your sick, and the rest of your number, which
ye will bring on land." We thanked him, and said, " That this care
which he took of desolate strangers God would reward." And so six
of us went on land with him ; and when we were on land he went
before us, and turned to us, and said, " He was but our servant and
our guide." He led us through three fair streets, and all the way we
went there were gathered some people on both sides, standing in a
row, but in so civil a fashion, as if it had been not to wonder at us, but
to welcome us ; and divers of them, as we passed by them, put their
arms a little abroad, which is their gesture when they bid any welcome.
The Strangers'-House is a fair and spacious house, built of brick, of
somewhat a bluer colour than our brick, and with handsome windows,
some of glass, some of a kind of cambric oiled. He brought us first
into a fair parlour above-stairs, and then asked us, " What number of
persons we were, and how many sick ?" We answered, " We were in
all, sick and whole, one-and-fifty persons, whereof our sick were seven
teen." He desired us to have patience a little, and to stay till he
came back to us, which was about an hour after ; and then he led us
to see the chambers which were provided for us, being in number
nineteen. They having cast it, as it seemeth, that four of those cham
bers, which were better than the rest, might receive four of the prin
cipal men of our company, and lodge them alone by themselves ; and
the other fifteen chambers were to lodge us, two and two together.
The chambers were handsome and cheerful chambers, and furnished
civilly. Then he led us to a long gallery, like a dorture, where he
showed us all along the one side (for the other side was but wall and
window) seventeen cells, very neat ones, having partitions of cedar-
wood. Which gallery and cells, being in all forty, many more than we
needed, were instituted as an infirmary for sick persons. And he told
us withal, that as many of our sick waxed well, he might be removed
from his cell to a chamber ; for which purpose there were set forth ten
spare chambers, besides the number we spake of before. This done,
he brought us back to the parlour, and lifting up his cane a little, as
they do when they give any charge or command, said to us, " Ye are
to know, that the custom of the land requireth that after this day and
to-morrow, which we give you for removing your people from your
ship, you are to keep within doors for three days. But let it not trouble
you, nor do not think yourselves restrained, but rather left to your rest
and ease. You shall want nothing ; and there are six of our people
appointed to attend you for any business you may have abroad." We
gave him thanks with all affection and respect, and said, " God surely
is manifested in this land." We offered him also twenty pistolets ;
but he smiled, and only said, "What, twice paid?" and so he
left us*

NEW . 47,

Soon after our dinner was served in, which was right good viands,
both for bread and meat, better than any collegiate diet that I have
known in Europe. We had also drink of three sorts, all wholesome
and good ; wine of the grape, a drink of grain, such as is with us our
ale, but more clear ; and a kind of cider made of a fruit of that
country, a wonderful pleasing and refreshing drink. Besides, there
were brought in to us great store of those scarlet oranges for our sick,
which, they said, were an assured remedy for sickness taken at sea.
There was given us also a box of small grey or whitish pills, which
they wished our sick should take, one of the pills every night before
sleep, which, they said, would hasten their recovery.

The next day, after that our trouble of carriage and removing of
our men and goods out of our ship was somewhat settled and quiet, I
thought good to call our company together, and when they were
assembled said unto them, " My dear friends, let us know ourselves,
and how it standeth with us. We arc men cast on land, as Jonas was
out of the whale's belly, when we were as buried in the deep. And
now we arc on land, we arc but between death and life; for we arc
beyond both the Old World and New; and whether ever we shall sec
Europe God only knowcth : it is a kind of miracle hath brought us
hither, and it must be little less that shall bring us hence. Therefore,
in regard of our deliverance past, and our danger present and to come,
let us look up to Cod, and every man reform his own ways. Besides,
we are come here amongst a Christian people, full of piety and
humanity; let us not bring that confusion of face upon ourselves as to
show our vices or unworthincss before them. Yet there is more ; for
they have by commandment, though in form of courtesy, cloistered us
within these walls for three days : who knowcth whether it be not to
take some taste of our manners and conditions ; and if they find them
bad, to banish us straightways ; if good, to give us further time ?
For these men that they have given us for attendance may withal have
an eye upon us. Therefore for God's love, and as we love the weal of
our souls and bodies, let us so behave ourselves as we may be at peace
.vith God, and may find grace in the eyes of this people." Our com
pany with one voice thanked me for my good admonition, and promised
me to live soberly and civilly, and without giving any the least occa
sion of offence. So we spent our three days joyfully, and without
care, in expectation what would be done with us when they were ex
pired; during which time we had every hour joy of the amendment of
our sick, who thought themselves cast into some divine pool of heal
ing, they mended so kindly and so fast.

The morrow after our three days were past, there came to us a new
man that we had not seen before, clothed in blue as the former was,
save that his turban was white, with a small red cross on the top ; he
had also a tippet of fine linen. At his coming in he did bend to us a
little, and put his arms abroad. We of our parts saluted him in a
very lowly and submissive manner, as looking that from him we should
receive sentence of life or death. He desired to speak with some few
of us ; whereupon six of us only stayed, and the rest avoided tho

joi

472 NEW A TLANTIS.

room. He said, " I am by office governor of this House of Strangers,
and by vocation I am a Christian priest, and therefore am come to
offer you my service both as strangers, and chiefly as Chr'stians.
Some things I may tell you, which I think you will not be unwilling to
hear. The state hath given you license to stay on land for the space
of six weeks. And let it not trouble you if your occasions ask further
time, for the law in this point is not precise ; and I do not doubt but
myself shall be able to obtain for you such further time as shall be
convenient. Ye shall also understand that the Strangers'-Housc is at
this time rich and much aforehand, for it hath laid up revenue these
thirty-seven years ; for so long it is since any stranger arrived in
this part. And, therefore, take ye no care, the state will defray you all
the time you stay, neither shall you stay one day less for that. As for
any merchandise you have brought, ye shall be well used, and have
your return either in merchandise, or in gold and silver ; for to us it is
all one. And if you have any other request to make, hide it not, for
ye shall find we will not make your countenance to fall by the answer
ye shall receive. Only this I must tell you, that none of you must go
above a karan [that is with them a mile and a half] from the walls of
the city without special leave." We answered, after we had looked
awhile upon one another, admiring this gracious and parent-like usage,
" That we could not tell what to say, for we wanted words to express
our thanks, and his noble free offers left us nothing to ask. It seemed
to us that we had before us a picture of our salvation in heaven ; for
\ve that were awhile since in the jaws of death, were now brought into
a place where we found nothing but consolations. For the command
ment laid upon us, we would not fail to obey it, though it was im
possible but our hearts should be inflamed to tread further upon this
happy and holy ground." We added, " That our tongues should first
cleave to the roofs of our mouths ere we should forget either this
reverend person, or this whole nation in our prayers." We also most
humbly besought him to accept of us as his true servants, by as just a
right as ever men on earth were bounden, laying and presenting both
our persons and all we had at his feet. He said, " He was a priest,
and looked for a priest's reward, which was our brotherly love, and the
good of our souls and bodies." So he went from us, not without tears
of tenderness in his eyes ; and left us also confused with joy and kind
ness, saying amongst ourselves, '' That we were come into a land of
angels which did appear to us daily, and present us with comforts
which we thought not of, much less expected."

The next day, about ten o'clock, the governor came to us again,
and after salutations said familiarly, " That he was come to visit us,"
and called for a chair, and sat him down: and being some ten of us
(the rest were of the meaner sort, or else gone abroad), sat down with
him. And when we were seated, he began thus, " We of this island of
Bcnsalem [for so they call it in their language] have this, that by
means of our solitary situation, and the laws of secresy which we have
for our travellers, and our rare admission of strangers, we know well
most part of the habitable world, and are ourselves unknown. There-

XEIV ATLANTIS. 473

fore, because he that knowcth least is fittest to ask questions, it is more
reason, for the entertainment of the time, that yc ask me questions
than that I ask you." We answered, "That we humbly thanked him
that he would give us leave so to do, and that we conceived, by the
taste we had already, that there was no worldly thing on earth more
worthy to be known than the state of that happy land. Hut above
all," we said, " since that we were met from the several ends of the
world, and hoped assuredly that we should meet one day in the king
dom of heaven, for that we were both parts Christians, we desired to
know, in respect that land was so remote, and so divided by vast and
unknown seas from the land where our Saviour walked on earth, who
was the apostle of that nation, and how it was converted to the faith?'
It appeared in his face that he took great contentment in this our
question. He said, "Ye knit my heart to you by asking this question
in the first place, for it showeth that you ' first seek the kingdom of
heaven ;' and I shall gladly and briefly satisfy your demand : —

" About twenty years alter the ascension of our Saviour, it came to
pass that there was seen by the people of Rcnfusa, a city upon the
eastern coast of our island, within night, the night was cloudy and
calm, as it might be some miles in the sea, a great pillar of light, not
sharp, but in form of a column or cylinder, rising from the sea, a great
way up towards heaven, and on the top of it was seen a large cross of
light, more bright and resplendent than the body of the pillar : ujxm
which so strange a spectacle the people of the city gathered apace
together upon the sands to wonder, and so after put themselves into a
number of small boats to go nearer to this marvellous sight. Hut
when the boats were come within about sixty yards of the pillar, they
found themselves all bound, and could go no further, yet so as they
might move to go about, but might not approach nearer ; so as the
boats stood all as in a theatre, beholding this sight as a heavenly sign.
It so fell out that there was in one of the boats of the wise men of the
Society of Solomon's House (which house or college, my good bre
thren, is the very eye of this kingdom), who having a while attentively
and devoutly viewed and contemplated this pillar and cross, fell down
upon his face, and then raised himself upon his knees, and lifting up
his hands to heaven, made his prayers in this manner : —

" ' Lord God of heaven and earth, thou hast vouchsafed of thy
grace to those of our order to know thy works of creation, and the
secrets of them, and to discern as far as appertained! to the genera
tions of men between divine miracles, works of nature, works of art,
and impostures and illusions of all sorts! I do here acknowledge and
testify before this people, that the thing we now sec before our eyes
is thy finger and a true miracle. And forasmuch as we learn in our
books that thoM never workcst miracles but to a divine and excellent
end, for the laws of nature are thine own laws, and thou cxceedest
them not but upon good cause, we most humbly beseech thcc to pros
per this great sign, and to give us the interpretation and use of it in
mercy, which thou dost in some part secretly promise by sending it
luito us.'

474 NEW ATLANTIS.

" When he had made his prayer, he presently found the boat he
was in moveable and unbound, whereas all the rest remained still fast ;
and taking that for an assurance of leave to approach, he caused the
boat to be softly and with silence rowed towards the pillar : but ere
he came near it, the pillar and cross of light brake up, and cast itself
abroad, as it were, into a firmament of many stars ; which also van
ished soon after, and there was nothing left to be seen but a small
ark or chest of cedar, dry, and not wet at all with water, though it
swam ; and in the fore-end of it, which was towards him, grew a small
green branch of palm. And when the wise man had taken it with
all reverence into his boat, it opened of itself, and there was found in
it a book and a letter, both written in fine parchment, and wrapped in
sindons of linen. The book contained all the canonical books of the
Old and New Testament, according as you have them, for we know
well what the churches with you receive, and the Apocalypse itself ;
and some other books of the New Testament which were not at that
time written, were nevertheless in the book. And for the letter, it was
in these words : —

"' I, Bartholomew, a servant of the Highest, and apostle of Jesus
Christ, was warned by an angel that appeared to me in a vision of
glory, that I should commit this ark to the floods of the sea. There
fore I do testify and declare unto that people where God shall ordain
this ark to come to land, that in the same day is come unto them sal
vation, and peace, and goodwill from the Father, and from the Lord
Jesus.'

" There were also in both these writings, as well the book as the
letter, wrought a great miracle, conformable to that of the apostles in
the original gift of tongues. For there being at that time in this
land Hebrews, Persians, and Indians, besides the natives, every one
read upon the book and letter as if they had been written in his own
language. And thus was this land saved from infidelity, as the
remain of the old world was from water, by an ark, through the
apostolical and miraculous evangelism of St. Bartholomew." And
here he paused, and a messenger came and called him forth from us.
So this was all that passed in that conference.

The next day the same governor came again to us immediately
after dinner, and excused himself, saying, " That the day before he
was called from us somewhat abruptly, but now he would make us
amends, and spend some time with us, if we held his company and
conference agreeable." We answered, " That we held it so agreeable
and pleasing to us, as we forgot both dangers past and fears to come,
for the time we heard him speak, and that we thought an hour spen*
with him was worth ten years of our former life." He bowed himself a
little to us, and after we were set again he said, " Well, the questions
are on your part." One of our number said, after a little pause, " There
was a matter we were no less desirous to know than fearful to ask,
lest we might presume too far ; but encouraged by his rare humanity
towards us, that we could scarce think ourselves strangers, being his
vowed and professed servants, we would take the hardiness to pro-

KE\V ATLANTIS. 475

pound it : humbly beseeching him, if he thought it not fit to be
answered, that he would pardon it, though he rejected it." We said,
14 We well observed those his words which he formerly spake, that this
happy island where we now stood was known to few, and yot knew
most of the nations of the world ; which we found to be true, consider
ing they had the languages of Europe, and knew much of our state
and business ; and yet we in Europe, notwithstanding all the remote
discoveries and navigations of this last age, never heard any of the
least inkling or glimpse of this island. This we found wonderful
strange, for that all nations have interknowlcdgcone of another, either
by voyage into foreign parts, or by strangers that come to them : and
though the traveller into a foreign country doth commonly know more
by the eye than he that staycth at home can by relation of the tra
veller, yet both ways suffice to make a mutual knowledge in some
degree on both parts. But for this island, we never heard tell of any
ship of theirs that had been seen to arrive upon any shore of Europe,
no, nor of either the East or West Indies, nor yet of any ship of any
other part of the world that had made return from them. And yet
the marvel rested not in this, for the situation of it, as his lordship
said, in the secret conclave of such a vast sea, might cause it : but
then, that they should have knowledge of the languages, books, affairs
of those that lie such a distance from them, it was a thing we could
not tell what to make of; for that it seemed to us a condition and
property of divine powrvs and beings, to be hidden and unseen to
others, and yet to have others open and as in a light to them." At
this speech the governor gave a gracious smile, and said, " That we
did well to ask pardon for this question we now asked, for that it
imported as if we thought this land a land of magicians, that sent
forth spirits of the air into all parts to bring them news and intelli
gence of other countries." It was answered by us all in all possible
humbleness, but yet with a countenance taking knowledge that we
knew that he spake it but merrily, " That we were apt enough to think
there was somewhat supernatural in this island, but yet rather as
angelical than magical. Hut to let his lordship know truly what it
was that made us tender and doubtful to ask this question, it was not
any such conceit, but because we remembered he had given a touch in
his former speech, that this land had laws of secrecy touching stran
gers." To this he said, " You remember it right ; and therefore in that
1 shall say to you, I must reserve some particulars, which it is not
lawful for me to reveal; but there will be enough left to fcivc you
satisfaction.

" You shall understand, that which perhaps you will scarce think
credible, that about three thousand years ago, or somewhat more, the
navigation of the world, especially for remote voyages, was greater
than at this day. Do not think with yourselves that I know not how
much it is increased with you within these sixscorc years; I know it
well : and yet I say, greater then than now. Whether it was that the
example of the ark that saved the remnant of men from the universal
deluge, gave men confidence to adventure upon the waters, or \\hat it

476 NE W A TLA NT1S>

was, but such is the truth. The Phoenicians, and especially the
Tyrians, had great fleets ; so had the Carthaginians their colony, which
is yet further west. Toward the cast the shipping of Egypt and of
Palestine was likewise great ; China also, and the great Atlantis, that
you call America, which have now but junks and canoes, abounded
then in tall ships. This island, as appearelh by faithful registers of
those times, had then fifteen hundred strong ships of great content.
Of all this there is with you sparing memory, or none ; but we have
large knowledge theieof.

"At that time, this land was known and frequented by the ships
and vessels of all the nations before named, and, as it cometh to pass,
they had many times men of other countries that were no sailors that
came with them ; as Persians, Chaldeans, Arabians ; so as almost all
nations of might and fame resorted hither, of whom we have some
stirps and little tribes with us at this day. And for our own ships,
they went sundry voyages, as well to your straits, which you call
the Pillars of Hercules, as to other parts in the Atlantic and Mediter
ranean Seas; as to Pegu, in which is the same with Cambalinc, and
Ouinzy upon the Oriental seas, as far as to the borders of East
Tartary.

" At the same time, and an age after or more, the inhabitants of
the great Atlantis did flourish. For though the narration and descrip
tion which is made by a great man, with you, of the descendants of
Neptune planted there, and of the magnificent temple, palace, city,
and hill, and the manifold streams of goodly navigable rivers, which,
as so many chains, environed the same sight and temple, and the
several degrees of ascent, whereby men did climb up to the same, as
if it had been a scala cccli, be all poetical and fabulous ; yet so much
is true, that the said country of Atlantis, as well as that of Peru, then
called Coya, as that of Mexico, then named Tyrambel, were mighty
and proud kingdoms in arms, shipping, and riches ; so mighty, as at
one time, or at least within the space often years, they both made two
great expeditions ; they of Tyrambel through the Atlantic to the Medi
terranean Sea, and they of Coya, through the South Sea, upon this our
island. And for the former of these, which was into Europe, the same
author amongst you, as it seemeth, had some relation from the Egyptian
priest whom he citcth, for assuredly such a thing there was. But
whether it were the ancient Athenians that had the glory of the repulse
and resistance of those forces, I can say nothing ; but certain it is,
there never came back either ship or man from that voyage. Neither
had the other voyage of those of Coya upon us had better fortune, if
they had not met with enemies of greater clemency. For the king of
this island, by name Altabin, a wise man and a great warrior, knowing
well both his own strength and that of his enemies, handled the matter
so, as he cut off their land-forces from their ships, and cntoiled both
their navy and their camp with a greater power than theirs, both by
sea and land, anci compelled them to render themselves without striking
stroke ; and after they were at his mercy, contenting himself only with
their oath that they should no more bear arms against him, dismissed

NE IV A TLANTIS. 477

them all in safety. Hut the Divine revenue overtook not long after
those proud enterprises ; for within less than the space of one hundred
years, the great Atlantis was utterly lost nnd destroyed, not by a great
earthquake, as your man saith, for that whole tract is little subject to
earthquakes, but by a particular delude or inundation, those countries
having at this day far greater rivers, and far higher mountains to pour
down waters, than any part of the old world. Hut it is true, that the
same inundation was nrt deep; not past forty foot in most places
from the ground : so that although it destroyed man and beast gene
rally, yet some few wild inhabitants of the wood escaped. Birds also
were saved by living to the high trees and woods. For as for men,
although they had buildings in many places higher than the depth of
the water, yet that inundation, though it were shallow, had a long
continuance, whereby they of the vale that were not drowned, perished
for want of food, and other things necessary. So as marvel you not
at the thin population of America, nor at the nidcness and ignorance
of the people ; for ^ou must account your inhabitants of America as
a young people, younger a thousand years at the least than the rest
of the world, for that there was so much time between the universal
flood and their particular inundation. For the poor remnant of human
seed which remained in their mountains, peopled the country again
slowly by little and little ; and being simple and a savage people, not
like Noah and his sons, which was the chief family of the earth, they
were not able to leave letters, arts, and civility to their posterity. And
having likewise, in their mountainous habitations, been used, in respect
of the extreme cold of those regions, to clothe themselves with the
skins of tigers, bears, and great hairy goats that they have in those
parts ; when, after they came down into the valley, and found the in
tolerable heats which arc there, and knew no means of lighter apparel,
they were forced to begin the custom of going naked, which continueib
at this day : only they take great pride and delight in the feathers of
birds ; and this also they took from those their ancestors of the moun
tains, who were invited unto it by the infinite flight of birds that came
up to the high grounds while the waters stood below. So you see by
ihis main accident of time we lost our traffic with the Americans, with
whom, of all others, in regard they lay nearest to us, we had most com-
mcrcc. As for the other parts of the woild, it is most manifest that in
the ages following, whether it were in respect of wars, or by a natural
revolution of time, navigation did everywhere greatly decay, and
especially far voyages, the rather by the use of galleys and such vessels
as could hardly brook the ocean, were altogether left and omitted. So
then, that part of the intercourse which could be from other nations to
sail to us, you sec how it hath long since ceased, except it were by
some rare accident, as this of yours. Hut now of the cessation of thai
other part of intercourse, which might be by our sailing to other nations,
I must yield you some other cause ; for I cannot say, if I shall say
truly, but our shipping for number, strength, mariners, pilots, and all
things that appertain to navigation, is as great as ever ; and therefore
why we should sit at home I shall now give you an account by itself,

473 NEW ATLANTIS.

and it will draw nearer to give you satisfaction to your principal
question.

" There reigned in this island, about nineteen hundred years ago, *
king, whose memory of all others we most adore, not superstitiously,
but as a divine instrument, though a mortal man : his name was
Solomona, and we esteem him as the lawgiver of our nation. This
king had a large heart, inscrutable for good, and was wholly bent to
make his kingdom and people happy. He therefore, taking into con
sideration how sufficient and substantive this land was to maintain
itself without any aid at all of the foreigner, being five thousand six
hundred miles in circuit, and of rare fertility of soil in the greatest part
thereof; and finding also the shipping of this country might be plenti
fully set on work, both by fishing and by transportations from port to
port, and likewise by sailing unto some small islands that are not far
from us, and are under the crown and laws of this state, and recalling
into his memory the happy and flourishing estate wherein this land
then was, so as it might be a thousand ways altered to the worse, but
scarce any one way to the better ; thought nothing wanted to his
noble and heroical intentions, but only, as far as human foresight
might reach, to give perpetuity to that which was in his time so happily
established ; therefore amongst his other fundamental laws of this
kingdom he did ordain the interdicts and prohibitions which we have
touching the entrance of strangers, which at that time, though it was
after the calamity of America, was frequent ; doubting novelties and
commixture of manners. It is true, the like law against the admission
of strangers without licence is an ancient law in the kingdom of China,
and yet continued in use ; but there it is a poor thing, and hath made
them a curious, ignorant, fearful, foolish nation. But our lawgiver
made his law of another temper. For, first, he hath preserved all
points of humanity, in taking order and making provision for the re
lief of strangers distressed, whereof you have tasted.'' At which
speech, as reason was, we all rose up and bowed ourselves. He went
on. " That king also — still desiring to join humanity and policy to«
gether, and thinking it against humanity to detain strangers here
against their wills, and against policy, that they should return and
discover their knowledge of this state, he took this course. He did
ordain, that of the strangers that should be permitted to land, as many,
at all times, might depart as would, but as many as would stay should
have very good conditions and means to live from the state. Wherein
he saw so far, that now in so many ages since the prohibition, we have
memory not of one ship that ever returned, and but of thirteen persons
only at several times that chose to return in our bottoms. What those
few that returned may have reported abroad, I know not ; but you
must think, whatsoever they have said could be taken where they
came but for a dream. Now for our travelling from hence into parts
abroad, our lawgiver thought fit altogether to restrain it. So is it not
in China, for the Chinese sail where they will, or can ; which showeth
that their law of keeping out strangers is a law of pusillanimity and
fear. But this restraint of ours hath one only exception, which is

NEW ATLANTIS. 479

admirable, preserving the good which comcih by communicating with
strangers, and avoiding.thc hurt ; and I will now open it to you. And
here I shall seem a little to digress, but you will, by-and-by, find it
pertinent. You shall understand, my dear friends, that amongst the
excellent acts of that king, one above all hath the pre-eminence ; it
was the erection and institution of an order or society, which we call
Solomon's House, the noblest foundation, as we think, that ever was
upon the earth, and the lanthorn of this kingdom. It is dedicated to
the study of the works and creatures of God. Some think it bcarcth
the founder's name a little corrupted, as if it should be Solomona's
House ; but the records write it as it is spoken. So as I take it to be
denominate of the king of the Hebrews, which is famous with you, and
no stranger to us, for we have some parts of his works which with you
are lost ; namely, that natural history which he wrote of all plants,
' from the cedar of Libanus to the moss that growcth out of the wall,'
and of all things that have life and motion. This maketh me think
that our king, finding himself to symbolize in many things with that
king of the Hebrews which lived many years before him, honoured
him with the title of this foundation. And I am the rather induced to
be of this opinion, for that I find in ancient records this order or
society is sometimes called Solomon's House, and sometimes the
College of the Six Days' Works ; whereby I am satisfied that our
excellent king had learned from the Hebrews that God had created
the world, and all that therein is, within six days, and therefore he
instituting that house for the finding out of the true nature of all things,
whereby God might have the more glory in the workmanship of them,
and men the more fruit in their use of them, did give it also that
second name. But now, to come to our present purpose. When the
king had forbidden to all his people navigation in any part that was
not under his crown, he made nevertheless this ordinance, that every
twelve years there should be set forth out of this kingdom two ships
appointed to several voyages; that in cither of these ships there should
be a mission of three of the fellows or brethren of Solomon's House,
whose errand was only to give us knowledge of the affairs and state of
those countries to which they were designed, and especially of the
sciences, arts, manufactures, and inventions of all the world ; and
withal to bring unto us books, instruments, and patterns in every kind :
that the ships, after they had landed the brethren, should return, and
that the brethren should stay abroad till vhe new mission. Tho ships
are not otherwise fraught than with store of victuals, and good quantity
of treasure, to remain with the brethren for the buying of such things
and rewarding of such persons as they should think lit. Now for me
to tell you, how the vulgar sort of mariners are contained from being
discovered at land, and how they that must be put on shore for any
time, colour themselves under the names of other nations, and to what
places these voyages have been designed, and what places of rendez
vous are appointed for the new missions, and the like circumstances
of the practice, I may not do it, neither is it much to your desire. But
thus you see we maintain a trade, not for gold, filvcr, or jewels, nor

NEW A TLANTIS.

for silks, nor for spices, nor any other commodity of matter, but only
for God's first creature, which was light ; to have light, I say, of the
growth of all parts of the world."

And when he had said this he was silent, and so were we all ; for
indeed we were all astonished to hear so strange things so probably
told. And he, perceiving that we were willing to say somewhat, but
had it not ready, in great courtesy took us off, and descended to
ask us questions of our voyage and fortunes ; and in the end con
cluded, that we might do well to think with ourselves what time of
stay we would demand of the state ; and bade us not to scant our
selves, for he would procure such time as we desired. Whereupon wo
all rose up, and presented ourselves to kiss the skirt of his tippet ; but
he would not suffer us, and so took his leave. But when it came once
amongst our people, that the state used to offer conditions to strangers
that would stay, we had work enough to get any of our men to look to
our ship, and to keep them from going presently to the governor to
crave conditions ; but with much ado we refrained them, till we might
agree what course to take.

We took ourselves now for free men, seeing there was no danger of
our utter perdition, and lived most joyfully, going abroad, and seeing
what was to be seen in the city and places adjacent within our tedder,
and obtaining acquaintance with many of the city, not of the meanest
quality, at whose hands we found such humanity, and such a freedom
and desire to take strangers as it were into their bosom, as was enough
to make us forget all that was dear to us in our own countries ; and
continually we met with many things right worthy of observation and
relation ; as indeed, if there be a mirror in the world worthy to hold
men's eyes, it is that country. One day there were two of our com
pany bidden to a feast of the family, as they call it ; a most natural,
pious, and reverend custom it is, showing that nation to be com
pounded of all goodness. This is the manner of it : it is granted to
any man that shall live to see thirty persons descended of his body
alive together, and all above three years old, to make this feast, which
is done at the cost of the state. The father of the family, whom they
call the Tirsan, two days before the feast, taketh to him three of such
friends as he liketh to choose, and is assisted also by the governor of
the city or place where the feast is celebrated ; and all the persons of
the family of both sexes are summoned to attend him. These two
days the Tirsan sitteth in consultation concerning the good estate of
the family. There, if there be any discord or suits between any of tha
family, they are compounded and appeased ; there, if any of the
family be distressed or decayed, order is taken for their relief, and
competent means to live ; there, if any be subject to vice or take ill
courses, they are reproved and censured. So likewise, direction is
tfiven touching marriages, and the courses of life which any of them
should take, with divers other the like orders and advices. The
governor assisteth to the end, to put in execution by his public autho-
rity the decrees and orders of the Tirsan, if they should be disobeyed»
though that seldom needeth, surh reverence and obedience they give

NEW ATLANTIS. 481

to the order of nature. The Tirsan doth also then ever choose one
man from amongst his sons to live in house with him, who is called
ever after the son of the vine : the reason will hereafter appear. On
the feast-day, the father or Tirsan cometh forth, after divine service,
into a large room where the feast is celebrated, which room hath an
half-pace at the upper end. Against the wall, in the middle of the
half-pace, is a chair placed for him, with a table and carpet before
it ; over the chair is a state made round or oval, and it is of ivy ; an
ivy somewhat whiter than ours, like the leaf of a silver asp, but more
shining, for it is green all winter. And the state is curiously wrought
with silver and silk of divers colours, broiding or binding in the ivy,
and is ever of the work of some of the daughters of the family, and
veiled over at the top with a fine net of silk and silver : but the sub
stance of it is true ivy, whereof, after it is taken down, the friends of
the family are desirous to have some leaf or sprig to keep. The
Tirsan cometh forth with all his generation or lineage, the males before
him, and the females following him. And if there be a mother from
whose body the whole lineage is descended, there is a traverse placed
in a loft above on the right hand of the chair, with a private door,
and a carved window of glass, leaded with gold and blue, where she
sittcth, but is not seen, when the Tirsan is come forth, he sittcth
down in the chair, and all the lineage place themselves against the
wall, both at his back, and upon the return of the half-pace, in order
of their years, without difference of sex, and stand upon their feet.
When he is set, the room being always full of company, but well kept,
and without disorder, after some pause there cometh in from the lower
end of the room a taratan, which is as much as an herald, and on
cither side of him two young lads, whereof one carricth a scroll of
their shining yellow parchment, and the other a cluster of grapes of
gold, with a long foot or stalk; the herald and children are clothed
with mantles of sea-water green satin, but the herald's mantle is
streamed with gold, and hath a train. Then the herald, with three
courtesies, or rather inclinations, comclh up as far as the half-pace,
and there first takcth into his hand the scroll. This scroll is the king's
charter, containing gift of revenue, and many privileges, exemptions,
and points of honour granted to the father of the family; and it is
ever styled and directed, to such an one, our well-beloved friend and
creditor, which is a title proj>cr only to this case; for they say, the
king is debtor to no man, but for propagation of his subjects. The
seal set to the king's charter is the king's image, embossed or moulded
in gold. And though such charters be expedited of course, and as of
right, yet they are varied by discretion, according to the number and
dignity of the family. This charter the herald readcth aloud ; and
while it is read, the father or Tirsan standeth up, supported by two of
his sons, such as he chooseth. Then the herald mountcth the half-
pace, and delivercth the charter into his hand, and with that there it
an acclamation by all that arc present, in their language, which is thus
much, " Happy are the people of Uensalcm." Then the herald takcth
into his hand from the other child the cluster of grapes, which is of

3'

48 2 NEW A TLA NTIS.

gold, both the stalks and the grapes, but the grapes are daintily enam
elled ; and if the males of the family be the greater number, the
grapes are enamelled purple, with a little sun set on the top ; if the
females, then they are enamelled into a greenish yellow, with a crescent
on the top. The grapes are in number as many as there are descend-
ants of the family. This golden cluster the herald delivereth also to
the Tirsan, who presently delivereth it over to that son that he had
formerly chosen to be in house with him, who beareth it before his
father, as an ensign of honour when he goeth in public ever after, and
is thereupon called the son of the vine. After this ceremony ended,
the father or Tirsan retireth, and after some time cometh forth again
to dinner, where he sitteth alone under the state as before ; and none of
his descendants sit with him, of what degree or dignity soever, except
he hap to be of Solomon's House. He is served only by his own
children, such as are male, who perform unto him all service of the
table upon the knee, and the women only stand about him, leaning
against the wall. The room below his half-pace hath tables on the
sides for the guests that are bidden, who are served with great and
comely order ; and toward the end of dinner, which in the greatest
feasts with them lasteth never a'bove an hour and a half, there is a
hymn sung, varied according to the invention of him that composed it,
for they have excellent poetry, but the subject of it is always the praises
of Adam, and Noah, and Abraham ; whereof the former two peopled
the world, and the last was the father of the faithful : concluding ever
with a thanksgiving for the nativity of our Saviour, in whose birth
the births of all are only blessed. Dinner being done, the Tirsan
retireth again, and having withdrawn himself alone into a place where
he maketh some private prayers, he cometh forth the third time to give
the blessing, with all his descendants, who stand about him as at the
first. Then he calleth them forth one by one, by name, as he pleaseth,
though seldom the order of age be inverted. The person that is
called, the table being before removed, kneeleth down before the chair,
and the father layeth his hand upon his head, or her head, and giveth
the blessing in these words : " Son of Bensalem, or daughter of l>cn-
salcm, thy father saith it, the man by whom thou hast breath and life
spcakcth the word ; the blessing of the everlasting Father, the Prince
of Peace, and the Holy Dove be upon thee, and make the days of thy
pilgrimage good and many." This he saith to every of them : and
that clone, if there be any of his sons of eminent merit and virtue, so
they be not above two, he calleth for them again, and sayeth, laying
his arm over their shoulders, they standing, " Sons, it is well you are
born ; give God the praise, and persevere to the end :" and withal
delivereth to either of them a jewel, made in the figure of an ear of
wheat, which they ever after wear in the front of their turban or hat.
This done, they fall to music and dances, and other recreations after
their manner, for the rest of the day. This is the full order of that
feast.

By that time six or seven days were spent, I was fallen into strait
acquaintance with a merchant of that city, whose name was Joabin ;

NEW ATLANTIS.

he was a Jew, and circumcised, for they have some few stirps of Jcw«
yet remaining among them, whom they leave to their own religion,
which they may the better do, because they are of a far different dispo
sition from the Jews in other parts. For whereas they hate the name
of Christ, and have a secret inbred rancour against the people among
whom they live ; these contrariwise give unto our Saviour many high
attributes, and love the nation of Bcnsalcm extremely. Surely this
man of whom I speak, would ever acknowledge that Christ was born
of a virgin, and that he was more than a man; and he would tell how
God made him ruler of the scraphims which guard his throne: and
they call him also the Milken Way, and the Kliah of the Messiah,
and many other high names ; which, though they be inferior to his
Divine Majesty, yet they are far from the language of other Jews.
And for the country of Bensalem, this man would make no end of
commending it, l>eing desirous, by tradition among the Jews there, to
have it believed, that the people thereof were of the generations of
Abraham by another son, whom they called Nachoran ; and that
Moses by a secret cabala ordained the laws of Bensalcm, which they
now use ; and that when the Messiah should come and sit in his
throne at Jerusalem, the king of Bcnsalem should sit at his feet,
whereas other kings should keep at a great distance. Hut yet, setting
aside these Jewish dreams, the man was a wise man and learned, and
of great policy, and excellently seen in the laws and cus'.oms of that
nation. Amongst other discourses, one day I told him, I was much
affected with the relation I had from some of the company, of their
custom in holding the feast of the family, for that mcthought I had
never heard of a solemnity wherein nature did so much preside. And
because propagation of families proccedcth from the nuptial copula
tion, I desired to know of him what laws and customs they had con
cerning marriage, and whether they kept marriage well, and whether
they were tied to one wife. For that where population is so much
affected, and such as with them it seemed to be, there is commonly
permission of plurality of wives. To this he said, " You have reason
to commend that excellent institution of the feast of the family ; and
indeed we have experience that those families that arc partakers of
the blessings of that feast do flourish and prosj>er ever after in an
extraordinary manner. But hear me now, and 1 will tell you what I
know. You shall understand that there is not under the heavens so
chaste a nation as this of Bcnsalem, nor so free from all pollution or
foulness ; it is the virgin of the world. I remember I have read in one
of your Eurojxian books, of an huly hermit amongst you that desired
to see the spirit of fornication, and there appeared to him a little foul
ugly Ethiop. But if he had desired to see the spirit of chastity of
Bensalem, it would have appeared to him in the likeness of a fair
beautiful cherubim ; for there is nothing amongst mortal men more
fair and admirable than the chaste minds of this people. Know, there
fore, that with them there arc no stews, no dissolute houses, no cour
tezans, nor anything of that kind ; nay, they wonder with detestation at
you in Europe which permit such things. They say you have put

434 NEW A TLANTIS.

marriage out of office ; for marriage is ordained a remedy for unlawful
concupiscence, and natural concupiscence seemeth as a spur to mar
riage ; but when men have at hand a remedy more agreeable to their
corrupt will, marriage is almost expulsed. And therefore there are
with you seen infinite men that marry not, but choose rather a libertine
,nnd impure single life than to be yoked in marriage ; and many that
do marry, marry late, when the prime and strength of their years is
past ; and when they do marry, what is marriage to them but a very
bargain, wherein is sought alliance, or portion, or reputation, with
some desire almost iudifferent of issue, and not the faithful nuptial
union of man and wife that was first instituted. Neither is it possible
that those who have cast away so basely so much of their strength,
should greatly esteem children, being of the same matter, as chaste
men do. So neither during marriage is the case much amended, as it
ought to be if those things were tolerated only for necessity. No, but
they remain still as a very affront to marriage ; the haunting of those
dissolute places, or resort to courtezans, is no more punished in married
men than in bachelors : and the depraved custom of change, and the
delight in meretricious embracements, where sin is turned into art,
maketh marriage a dull thing, and a kind of imposition or tax.
They hear you defend these things as done to avoid greater evils, as
advoutries, deflowering of virgins, unnatural lust, and the like : but
they say this is a preposterous wisdom, and they call it Lot's offer,
who, to save his guests from abusing, offered his daughters. Nay, they
say further, that there is little gained in this, for that the same vices
and appetites do still remain and abound, unlawful lust being like a
furnace, that if you stop the flames altogether, it will quench, but if
you give it any vent, it will rage. As for masculine love, they have no
touch of it ; and yet there are not so faithful and inviolate friendships
in the world again as are there : and to speak generally, as I said
before, I have not read of any such chastity in any people as theirs.
And their usual saying is, that whosoever is unchaste cannot reverence
himself. And they say, that the reverence of a man's self is, next
religion, the chiefest bridle of all vices." And when he had said this,
the good Jew paused a little. Whereupon I, far more willing to hear
him speak on than to speak myself, yet thinking it decent that upon
his pause of speech I should not be altogether silent, said only this,
" That I would say to him as the widow of Sarepta said to Elias, that
he was come to bring to memory our sins ; and that I confess the
righteousness of Bensalem was greater than the righteousness of
Europe." At which speech he bowed his head, and went on in this
manner : " They have also many wise and excellent laws touching
marriage. They allow no polygamy. They have ordained that none.
dp intermarry or contract until a month be past from their first inter
view. Marriage without consent of parents they do not make void,
but they mulct it in the inheritors ; for the children of such marriages
::re not admitted to inherit above a third part of their parent's inherit-'
•'-nee. I have read in a book of one of your men of a feigned common
wealth, where the married couple are permittee}, before they contract,

NEW ATLANT!$.

to sec one another naked. This they dislike, for they think it a scorn
to give a refusal after so familiar knowledge : but because of many
hidden defects in men and women's bodies, they have a more civil
way ; for they have near every town a couple of pools, which they
call Adam and Eve's pools, where it is permitted to one of the friends
of the man, and another of the friends of the woman, to see them
severally bathe naked."

And as we were thus in conference, there came one that seemed to
be a messenger, in a rich huke, that spake with the Jew ; whereupon,
he turned to me, and said, " You will pardon me, for I am commanded
away in haste."

The next morning he came to me again, joyful, as it seemed, and
said, " There is word come to the governor of the city, that one of the
fathers of Solomon's House will be here this day seven-night ; we
have seen none of them this dozen years. His coming is in state, but
the cause of his coming is secret. 1 will provide you and your fellows
of a good standing to see his entry." I thanked him, and told him, " I
was most glad of the news."

The day being come, he made his entry. He was a man of middle
stature and age, comely of person, and had an aspect as if he pitied
men. He was clothed in a robe of fine black cloth, with wide sleeves
and a cape : his under-garmcnt was of excellent white linen down to
the foot, girt with a girdle of the same, and a sindon or tippet of the
same about his neck : he had gloves that were curious, and set with
stone, and shoes of peach-coloured velvet ; his neck was bare to the
shoulders : his hat was like a helmet or Spanish montcra, and his
locks curled below it decently, — they were of colour brown : his beard
was cut round, and of the same colour with his hair, somewhat lighter.
He was carried in a rich chariot, without wheels, litter-wise, with two
horses at cither end, richly trapped in blue velvet, embroidered, and
two footmen on either side in the like attire. The chariot was all of
cedar, gilt, and adorned with crystal, save that the fore-end had panels
of sapphires set in borders of gold, and the hinder end the like of
emeralds of the Peru colour. There was also a sun of gold, radian:
upon the top, in the midst ; and on the top before a small cherub of
gold, with wings displayed. The chariot was covered with cloth of
gold, tissued upon blue. He had before him fifty attendants, young
men all, in white satin loose coats up to the mid-leg, and stockings of
white silk, and shoes of blue velvet, and hats of blue velvet, with lino
plumes of divers colours set round like hatbands. Next before the
chariot went two men bareheaded, in linen garments down to the foot,
girt, and shoes of blue velvet, who carried the one a crosier, the other
a pastoral staff, like a sheep-hook : neither of them of metal, but the
crosier of balm-wood, the pastoral staff of cedar. Horsemen he had
none, neither before nor behind his chariot, as it •ccmeth, to avoid all
tumult and trouble. Behind his chariot went all the officers and prin
cipals of the companies of the city. He sat alone upon cushions of a
kind of excellent plush, blue, and under his foot curious carpets of
•ilk of divers colours, like the Persian, but far finer. He held up his

NEW ATLANTIS

bare hand as he went, as blessing the people, but in silence. The
street was wonderfully well kept; so that there was never an army had
their men stand in better battle-array than the people stood. The
windows likewise were not crowded, but every one stood in them as
if they had been placed. When the show was past, the Jew said to
me, " I shall not be able to attend you as I would, in regard of some
charge the city hath laid upon me, for the entertaining of this great
person."

Three days after, the Jew came to me again, and said, " Ye are
happy men ! for the father of Solomon's House taketh knowledge of your
being here, nnd commanded me to tell you, that he will admit all your
company to his presence, and have private conference with one of you
that ye shall choose ; and for this hath appointed the day next after
to-morrow. And, because he meaneth to give you his blessing, he hath
appointed it in the forenoon."

We came at our day and hour, and I was chosen by my fellows for
the private access. We found him in a fair chamber, richly hung, and
carpeted under-foot, without any degrees to the state. He was seated
upon a low throne, richly adorned, and a rich cloth of state over his
head, of blue satin, embroidered. He was alone, save that he had two
pages of honour, on either hand, one finely attired in white. 1 1 is
under-garments were the like that we saw him wear in the chariot ;
but instead of his gown, he had on him a mantle, with a cape of the
same fine black, fastened abou't him. When we came in, as we were
taught, we bowed low at our first entrance ; and when we were come
near his chair, he stood up, holding forth his hand ungloved, and in
posture of blessing ; and we every one of us stooped down and kissed
the hem of his tippet. That done, the rest departed, and I remained.
Then he warned the pages forth of the room, and caused me to sit
down beside him, and spake to me thus in the Spanish tongue : —

" God bless thee, my son, I will give thee the greatest jewel I have :
for I will impart unto thee, for the love of God and men, a relation of
the true state of Solomon's House. Son, to make you know the true
state of Solomon's House, I will keep this order : — first, I will set
forth unto you the end of our foundation ; secondly, the preparations
and instruments we have for our works ; thirdly, the several employ-
ments and functions whereto our fellows are assigned ; and fourthly
the ordinances and rites which we observe.

" The end of our foundation is the knowledge of causes and secret
motions of things, and the enlarging of the bounds of human empire,
to the effecting of all things possible.

" The preparations and instruments are these. We have large and
deep caves of several depths : the deepest are sunk six hundred
fathoms, and some of them are digged and made under great hills and
mountains ; so that if you reckon together the depth of the hill and
die depth of the cave, they are some of them above three miles deep :
for we find that the depth of a hill and the depth of a cave from the
flat is the same thing, both remote alike from the sun and heaven's
beams and from the open air. These caves we call ' the lower region,'

A TLA . V T/S.

and we use them for all coagulations, indurations, refrigerations, and
conservations of bodies. We use them likewise for the imitation of
natural mines, and the producing also of new artificial metals, by com
positions and materials which we use and lay there for many years.
We use them also sometimes, which may seem strange, for curing of
some diseases, and for prolongation of life in some hermits that choose
to live there, well accommodated of all things necessary, and, indeed,
live very long ; by whom also we learn many things.

" We have burials in several earths, where we put divers cements,
as the Chinese do their porcelain ; but we have them in greater variety,
and some of them finer. We also have great variety of composts and
soils for making of the earth fruitful.

" We have high towers, the highest about half a mile in height,
and some of them likewise set upon high mountains ; so that the
advantage of the hill with the tower is, in the highest of them, three
miles at least. And these places we call the upper region, accounting
the air between the high places and the low as a middle region. We
use these towers, according to their several heights and situations, for
insolation, refrigeration, conservation, and for the view of divers
meteors ; as winds, rain, snow, hail, and some of the fiery meteors
also. And upon them, in some places, are dwellings of hermits, whom
we visit sometimes, and instruct what to observe.

" We have great lakes, both salt and fresh, whereof we have use
for the fish and fowl. We use them also for burials of some natural
bodies; for we find a difference in things buried in earth, or in air
below the earth, and things buried in water. We have also pools
of which some do strain fresh water out of salt, and others by art do
turn fresh water into salt. We have also some rocks in the midst of
the sea, and some bays upon the shore for some works wherein arc
required the air and vapour of the sea. We have likewise violent
streams and cataracts, which serve us for many motions ; and likewise
engines for multiplying and enforcing of winds, to set also agoing
divers motions.

" We have also a number of artificial wells and fountains, made in
imitation of the natural sources and baths ; as tinctcd upon vitriol,
sulphur, steel, brass, lead, nitre, and other minerals. And again, we
have little wells for infusions of many things, where the waters take
the virtue quicker and better than in vessels or basins. And amongst
them we have a water which we call ' water of paradise,' being by
that we do to it made very sovereign for health and prolongation of
life.

" We have also great and spacious houses, where we imitate and
demonstrate meteors, as snow, hail, rain, some artificial rains of Ixxlics,
and not of water, thunders, lightnings : also generations of bodies in
air, as frogs, flics, and divers others.

"We have also certain chambers, which we call 'chambers of
health,' where we qualify the air, as we think good and proper for the
cure of divers diseases, and preservation of health.

" We have also fair and large baths, of several mixtures, for the

488 NEW A TLANTIS.

cure of diseases, and the restoring of man's body from arefaction; and
others for the confirming of it in strength of sinews, vital parts, and
the very juice and substance of the body.

" We have also large and various orchards and gardens, wherein
we do not so much respect beauty as variety of ground and soil, propel
for divers trees and herbs ; and some very spacious, where trees and
berries are set, whereof we make divers kinds of drinks, besides the
vineyards. In these we practise likewise all conclusions of grafting
and inoculating, as well of wild trees as fruit-trees, which produceth
many effects. And we make, by art, in the same orchards and gardens,
trees and flowers to come earlier or later than their seasons, and to
come up and bear more speedily than by their natural course they do ;
we make them also, by art, much greater than their nature, and their
fruit greater and sweeter, and of differing taste, smell, colour, and
figure from their nature ; and many of them we so order that they
become of medicinal use.

" We have also means to make divers plants rise by mixtures of
earths without seeds ; and likewise to make divers new plants differing
from the vulgar, and to make one tree or plant turn into another.

" We have also parks and inclosures of all sorts of beasts and
birds; which we use not only for view or rareness, but likewise for
dissections and trials, that thereby we may take light what may be
wrought upon the body of man ; wherein we find many strange effects •,
as, continuing life in them, though divers parts, which you account
vital, be perished and taken forth ; resuscitating of some that seem
dead in appearance, and the like. We try also poisons and other
medicines upon them, as well of surgery as physic. By art likewise
we make them greater or taller than their kind is, and contrariwise
dwarf them and stay their growth ; we make them more fruitful and
bearing than their kind is, and contrariwise barren and not generative.
Also we make them differ in colour, shape, activity, many ways. We
find means to make commixtures and copulations of divers kinds,
which have produced many new kinds, and them not barren, as the
general opinion is. We make a number of kinds of serpents, worms,
flies, fishes, of putrefaction ; whereof some are advanced in effect to
be perfect creatures, like beasts or birds, and have sexes, and do pro
pagate. Neither do we this by chance, but we know beforehand of
what matter and commixture, what kind of those creatures will arise.

" We have also particular pools where we make trials upon fishes,
as we have said before of beasts and birds.

" We have also places for breed and generation of those kinds of
worms and flies which are of special use, such as are with you, your
silkworms and bees.

" I will not hold you long with recounting of our brewhouses, bake
houses, and kitchens, where are made divers drinks, breads, and meats,
rare and of special effects. Wines we have of grapes, and drinks of
other juice, of fruits, of grains, and of roots ; and of mixtures with
honey, sugar, manna, and fruits dried and decocted ; also of the tears,
or woundings of trees, and of the pulp of canes. And these drinks

HEW ATLANTIS. 489

are of several ages, some to the age or last of forty years We have
drinks also brewed with several herbs and roots and spices, yea, with
sever;*! fleshes and white-meats ; whereof some of the drinks trc
such, as they arc in effect meat and drink both, so that divers, especi
ally in age, do desire to live with them ; with little or no meat or
bread. And above all, we strive to have drinks of extreme thin
part, to insinuate into the body, and yet without all biting, sharpness,
or fretting ; insomuch as some of them put upon the back ol your
hand will, with a little stay, pass through to the palm, and yet taste
mild to the mouth. We have also waters which we ripen in that
fashion as they become nourishing, so that they arc indeed excellent
drink ; and many will use no other. Hrcads we have of several
grains, roots, and kernels ; yea, and some of flesh and fish dried,
with divers kinds of leavcnings and seasonings ; so that some do
extremely move appetites ; some do nourish so, as divers do live on
them, without any other meat, who live very long. So for meats,
we have some of them so beaten and made tender and mortified,
yet without all corrupting, as a weak heat of the stomach will turn
them into good chylus, as well as a strong heat would meat other
wise prepared. \Vc have some meats also, and breads and drinks,
which taken by men enable them to fast long after ; and some other
that used make the very flesh of men's bodies sensibly more hard and
tough, and their strength far greater than otherwise it would be.

" We have dispensatories, or shops of medicines, wherein you may
easily think, if we have such variety of plants and living creatures more
than you have in Europe, for we know what you have, the simples,
drugs, and ingredients of medicines must likewise be in so much the
greater variety. We have them likewise of divers ages, and long fer
mentations. And for their preparations, we have not only all manner
of exquisite distillations and separations, and especially by gentle
heats, and percolations through divers strainers, yea and substances ;
but also exact forms of composition, whereby they incorporate almost
as they were natural simples.

" We have also divers mechanical arts which you ha ;c not, and
stuffs made by them ; as papers, linen, silks, tissues, dainty works of
feathers of wonderful lustre, excellent dyes, and many o'.hcrs ; and
shops likewise as well for such as are not brought into vulgar use
amongst us, as for those that arc. For you mu?l know, that of the
things before recited many are grown into use throughout the king
dom ; but yet, if they did flow from our invention, we have of (hem
also for patterns and principles.

'• \Vc have also furnaces of great diversities, and that keep great
diversity of heats, fierce and quick, strong and constant, soft and
mild, blown, quiet, dry, moist, ami the like. Hut, above all, we have
heats in imitation of the sun's and heavenly bodies' heals, that pass
divers inequalities, and, as it were, orbs, progresses, and returns,
whereby we may produce admirable effects. Hcsidcs, we have heats
of dungs, and of bellies and maws of living creatures, and of thc:r
bloods and bodies; and of hays and herbs laid up moist; of lime uu-

49° NEW A TLANTIS.

quenched, and such like. Instruments, also, which generate heat only
by motion ; and further, places for strong insolations ; and, again,
places under the earth which by nature or art yield heat. These
divers heats we use as the nature of the operation which we intend
requireth.

" We have also perspective-houses, where we make demonstration
of all lights and radiations, and of all colours ; and of things uncolourcd
and transparent, we can represent unto you all several colours, not in
rainbows, as it is in gems and prisms, but of themselves single. We
represent, also, all multiplications of light, which we carry to great
distance, and make so sharp as to discern small points and lines ; also
all colorations of light, all delusions and deceits of the sight, in figures,
magnitudes, motions, colours ; all demonstrations of shadows. We
find, also, divers means yet unknown to you of procuring of light
originally from divers bodies. We procure means of seeing objects
afar off, as in the heavens, and remote places ; and represent things
near as afar off, and things afar off as near, making feigned distances.
We have also helps for the sight far above spectacles and glasses in
use. We have also glasses and means to see small and minute bodies
perfectly and distinctly, as the shapes and colours of small flies and
worms, grains and flaws in gems, which cannot otherwise be seen ;
observations in urine and blood, not otherwise to be seen. We make
artificial rainbows, halos, and circles about light. We represent also
all manner of reflections, refractions, and multiplication of visual
beams of objects.

'' We have also precious stones of all kinds, many of them of great
beauty, and to you unknown ; crystals likewise, and glasses of divers
kinds, and amongst them some of metals vitrificated, and other
materials, besides those of which you make glass. Also a number of
fossils and imperfect minerals which you have not ; likewise loadstones
of prodigious virtue, and other rare stones both natural and artificial.

" We have also sound-houses, where we practise and demonstrate
all sounds and their generation. We have harmonies, which you have
not, of quarter-sounds, and lesser slides of sounds ; divers instruments
likewise to you unknown, some sweeter than any you have ; with bells
and rings that are dainty and sweet. We represent small sounds as
great and deep, likewise great sounds extenuate and sharp. We
make divers tremblings and warbling of sounds, which in their original
are entire ; we represent and imitate all articulate sounds and letters,
and the voices and notes of beasts and birds. We have certain helps,
which set to the ear do further the hearing greatly. We have also
divers strange and artificial echos reflecting the voice many times, and
as it were tossing it ; and some that give back the voice louder than it
came, some shriller, and some deeper ; yea, some rendering the voico
differing in the letters or articulate sounds from that they receive. We
have also means to convey sounds in trunks and pipes in strange lines
and distances.

" We have also perfume-houses, wherewith we join also practises ol
taste : we multiply smells, which may seem strange ; we imitate smells,

NEW ATLAS TIS. 491

making all smells to breathe out of other mixtures than those that
give them. We make divers imitation of taste likewise, so that they
will deceive any man's taste. And in this house we contain also a
confiture-house, where we make all sweetmeats dry and moist, and
divers pleasant wines, milks, broths, and salads, in far greater variety
than you have.

" We also have engine-houses, where arc prepared engines and
instruments for all sorts of motions. There we imitate and practise to
make swifter motions than any you have, either out of your muskets,
or any engine that you have ; and to make them and multiply them
more easily, and with small force, by wheels and other means ; and to
make them stronger and more violent than yours are, exceeding your
greatest cannons and basilisks. We represent also ordnance and
instruments of war, and engines of all kinds ; and likewise new
mixtures and compositions of gunpowder, wildfires burning in water, and
unquenchable ; also fireworks of all variety, both for pleasure and use.
We imitate also flights of birds : we have some degrees of flying in
the air : we have ships and boats for going under water, and brooking
of seas : also swimming-girdles and supporters. We have divers
curious clocks, and other like motions of return, and some perpetual
motions. We imitate also motions of living creatures by images of
men, beasts, birds, fishes, and serpents: we have also a great
number of other various motions, strange for quality, fineness, and
subtilty.

" We have also a mathematical house, where are represented all
instruments, as well of geometry as astronomy, exquisitely made.

" We have also houses of deceit of the senses, where we represent
all manner of feats of juggling, false apparitions, impostures, and illu
sions and their fallacies. And surely you will easily believe that we
that have so many things truly natural, which induce admiration, could
in a world of particulars deceive the senses, if we would disguise those
things, and labour to make them more miraculous. But we do hate
all impostures and lies, insomuch as we have severely forbidden it to
all our fellows, under pain of ignominy and fines, that they do not
show any natural work or thing adorned or swelling, but only pure
as it is, and without all affectation of strangeness.

" These are, my son, the riches of Solomon's House.

" For the several employments and offices of our fellows, we have
twelve that sail into foreign countries under the names of other
nations, for our own we conceal, who bring us the books and abstracts,
and patterns of experiments of all other parts. These we call
'merchants of light.'

" We have three that collect the experiments which arc in all books.
These we call ' depredators.'

" We have three that collect the exj>crimcnts of all mechanical arts,
and also of liberal sciences, and also of practices which are not brought
into arts. These we call ' mystery men.'

•' We have three that try new experiment!, such as themselves think
good. These we call ' pioneers ' or ' miners.'

492 NE IV A TLA NT IS.

" We have three that draw the experiments of the former four into
titles and tables, to give the better light for the drawing of observations
and axioms out of them. These we call ' compilers.'

" We have three that bend themselves, looking into the experiments
of their fellows, and cast about how to draw out of them things of use
and practice for man's life and knowledge, as well for works as for plain
demonstration of causes, means of natural divinations, and the easy
and clear discoveiy of the virtues and parts of bodies. These we call
4 dowry men,' or ' benefactors.'

" Then, after diver? meetings and consults of our whole number, to
consider of the former labours and collections, we have three that take
care out of them to direct new experiments of a higher light, more
penetrating into nature than the former. These we call ' lamps.'

" We have three others that do execute the experiments so directed,
and report them. These we call ' inoculators.'

" Lastly, we have three that raise the former discoveries by experi
ments into greater observations, axioms, and aphorisms. These we call
' interpreters of nature.'

"We have also, as you must think, novices and apprentices, that
the succession of the former employed men do not fail ; besides a great
number of servants and attendants, men and women. And this we do
also; we hive consultations which of the inventions and experiences
which we have discovered shall be published, and which not ; and take
all an oath of secrecy for the concealing of those which we think meet
to keep secret, though some of those we do reveal sometimes to the
state, and some not.

" For our ordinances and rites, we have two very long and fair
galleries. In one of these we place patterns and samples of all manner
of the more rare and excellent inventions ; in the other we place the
statues of all principal inventors. There we have the statue of your
Columbus, that discovered the West Indies ; also the inventor of
ships ; your monk that was the inventor of ordnance and of gun
powder ; the inventor of music ; the inventor of letters ; the inventor
of printing ; the inventor of observations of astronomy ; the inventor of
works in metal ; the inventor of glass ; the inventor of silk of the
worm ; the inventor of wine ; the inventor of corn and bread ; the
inventor of sugars : and all these by more certain tradition than you
have. Then we have divers inventors of our own, of excellent works,
which, since you have not seen, it were too long to make descriptions
cf them ; and besides, in the right understanding of those descriptions
you might easily err. For upon every invention of value, we erect a
statue to the inventor, and give him a liberal and honourable reward.
These statues are some of brass ; some of marble and touchstone ;
some of cedar, and other special woods gilt and adorned ; some of
iron ; some of silver ; some of gold.

" We have certain hymns and services, which we say daily of laud
and thanks to God for his marvellous works ; and forms of prayers
imploring his aid and blessing for the illumination of our labours, and
the turning them into good and holy rises.

NEW ATLANTIS, 493

" lastly, we have circuits or visits of divers principal cities of the
kingdom, where, as it comcth to pass, we do publish such new profit-
able inventions as we think good. And we do also declare natural
divinations of diseases, plagues, swarms of hurtful creatures, scarcity,
tempests, earthquakes, great inundations, comets, temj>craturc of the
year, and divers other things ; and we give counsel thereupon what
the people shall do for the prevention and remedy of them."

And when he had said this, he stood up : and 1, as I had been
taught, kneeled down, and he laid his right hand upon my head, and
said, '* God bless thcc, my son, and God bless this relation which I
have made ; I give thcc leave to publish it for the good of other
nations: for we here arc in God's bosom, a land unknown." A»H! so he
left me, having assigned a value of about two thousand ducats for a
bounty »o me and my fellows ; for they give great largesses where they
come upon all occasions.

test u'lis

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