To the King.
1. It might seem to have more
convenience, though it come often otherwise to pass (excellent
King), that those which are 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 over their dearest pledges. Queen Elizabeth was a
sojourner 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. But to your Majesty, whom
God hath already blessed with so much royal issue, worthy to
continue and represent you for ever, and whose youthful and
fruitful bed doth yet promise many the like renovations, 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 further endowment of the world with sound and fruitful
knowledge. For why should a few received authors stand up
like Hercules’ columns, beyond 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, wherein
I purpose to speak actively, without digressing or dilating.
2. Let this ground therefore be laid, that all works are
over common by amplitude of reward, by soundness of direction,
and by the conjunction of labours. The first multiplieth
endeavour, the second preventeth 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 requireth more strength, but wisdom is that
which prevaileth,” signifying that the invention or
election of the mean is more effectual than any enforcement or
accumulation of endeavours. This I am induced to speak, for
that (not derogating from the noble intention 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.
3. 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 leese itself in the ground, except it be
collected into some receptacle where it may by union comfort and
sustain itself; and for that cause the industry of man hath made
and framed springheads, conduits, cisterns, and pools, which men
have accustomed likewise to beautify and adorn with
accomplishments 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.
4. The works which concern the seats and places of
learning are four—foundations and buildings, endowments
with revenues, endowments with franchises and privileges,
institutions and ordinances for government—all tending to
quietness and privateness of life, and discharge of cares and
troubles; much like the stations which Virgil prescribeth for the
hiving of bees:
“Principio sedes apibus statioque
petenda,
Quo neque sit ventis aditus, &c.”
5. The works touching books are two—first,
libraries, which are as the shrines where all the relics 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.
6. 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 prosecuted.
7. These are summarily the works and acts wherein the
merits of many excellent princes and other worthy personages,
have been conversant. As for any particular commemorations,
I call to mind what Cicero said when he gave general thanks,
Difficile non aliquem, ingratum quenquam
præterire. Let us rather, according to the
Scriptures, look unto that part of the race which is before us,
than look back to that which is already attained.
8. 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 fall 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 distributeth to all the rest. So if any man
think philosophy 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 thee roots that must work
it. Neither is it to be forgotten, that this dedicating of
foundations and dotations to professory 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 proceedeth that princes find a solitude 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 in histories, modern languages,
books of policy and civil discourse, and other the like
enablements unto service of estate.
9. And because founders of colleges do plant, and
founders of lectures do 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 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 progression
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 stayed 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 entertainment with them; otherwise if the fathers
in sciences be of the weakest sort or be ill maintained,
“Et patrum invalidi referent jejunia
nati.”
10. 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, specialty natural philosophy and physic, books be not
only the instrumentals; wherein also the beneficence of men hath
not been altogether wanting. For we see spheres, globes,
astrolabes, maps, and the like, have been provided as
appurtenances 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 proficience in the
disclosing of nature, except there be some allowance for expenses
about experiments; whether they be experiments appertaining to
Vulcanus or Dædalus, 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.
11. 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 a history of nature,
much better do they deserve it that travail in arts of
nature.
12. 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 learning,
anciently begun and since continued, be well instituted or no;
and thereupon to ground an amendment or reformation in that which
shall be found inconvenient. For it is one of your
Majesty’s own most wise and princely maxims, “That in
all usages and precedents, the times be considered wherein they
first began; which if they were weak or ignorant, it derogateth
from the authority of the usage, 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 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, are 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
unfraught with matter, and which have not gathered that which
Cicero calleth sylva and supellex, 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 further,
the untimely learning of them hath drawn on by consequence the
superficial and unprofitable teaching and writing of them, as
fitteth indeed to the capacity of children. Another is a
lack I find in the exercises used in the universities, which do
snake too great a divorce between invention and memory. For
their speeches are either premeditate, in verbis
conceptis, where nothing is left to invention, or merely
extemporal, where little is left to memory. Whereas in life
and action there is least use of either 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, and sooner by others. But this
part, touching the amendment of the institutions and orders of
universities, I will conclude with the clause of
Cæsar’s letter to Oppius and Balbes, Hoc
quemadmodum fieri possit, nonnulla mihi in mentem
veniunt, et multa reperiri possunt: de iis rebus
rgo vos ut cogitationem suscipiatis.
13. Another defect which I note ascendeth a little
higher than the precedent. For as the proficience of
learning consisteth much in the orders and institutions of
universities in the same states and kingdoms, so it would be yet
more advanced, if there were more intelligence mutual between the
universities of Europe than now there is. We see 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 correspondence one
with the other, insomuch as they have provincials and
generals. And surely as nature createth brotherhood in
families, and arts mechanical contract brotherhoods in
communalties, 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.
14. The last defect which I will note is, that there
hath not been, or very rarely been, any public designation of
writers or inquirers concerning 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 learning 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.
15. The removing of all the defects formerly enumerate,
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 crossway, that may point at the way, but cannot go
it. But the inducing part of the latter (which is the
survey of learning) may be set forward by private travail.
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 improved 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 omissions
and deficiences, and not to make any redargution of errors or
incomplete prosecutions. For it is one thing to set forth
what ground lieth 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
well 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 accept from another, that duty of
humanity—Nam qui erranti comiter monstrat viam,
&c. I do foresee likewise that of those things which I
shall enter and register as deficiences 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
impossibility to be compassed and effected. But for the two
first, I refer myself to the particulars. For the last,
touching impossibility, I take it those things are to be held
possible which may be done by some person, though not by every
one; and which may be done by many, though not by any one; and
which may be done in the succession of ages, though not within
the hourglass 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 of
Solomon, “Dicit piger, Leo est in via,”
than that of Virgil, “Possunt quia posse
videntur,” 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 requireth
some sense to make a wish not absurd.
I. (1) The parts of human learning have reference to the three
parts of man’s understanding, which is the seat of
learning: history to his memory, poesy to his imagination, and
philosophy to 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
consisteth also of history of the Church; of parables, which is
divine poesy; and of holy doctrine or precept. For as for
that part which seemeth supernumerary, which is prophecy, it is
but divine history, which hath that prerogative over human, as
the narration may be before the fact as well as after.
(2) History is natural, civil, ecclesiastical, and literary;
whereof the first three I allow as extant, the fourth I note 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
seemeth to me to be as the statue of Polyphemus 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 mathematicians,
the rhetoricians, the philosophers, there are set down some small
memorials of the schools, authors, and books; and so likewise
some barren relations touching the invention of arts or
usages. But a just story of learning, containing the
antiquities and originals of knowledges and their sects, their
inventions, their traditions, their diverse administrations and
managings, their flourishings, their oppositions, decays,
depressions, oblivions, removes, with the causes and occasions of
them, and all other events concerning learning, throughout the
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 curiosity or
satisfaction of those that are the lovers of learning, but
chiefly for a more serious and grave purpose, which is this in
few words, that it will make learned men wise in the use and
administration of learning. For it is not Saint
Augustine’s nor Saint Ambrose’s works that will make
so wise a divine as ecclesiastical history thoroughly read and
observed, and the same reason is of learning.
(3) History of Nature is of three sorts; of Nature in course,
of Nature 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 bandied so weakly and
unprofitably as I am moved to note them as 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 fabulous experiments and secrets, and
frivolous impostures for pleasure and strangeness; but a
substantial and severe collection of the heteroclites or
irregulars of Nature, well examined and described, I find not,
specially 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.
(4) 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 Mirabilaries
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
superstitious narrations of sorceries, witchcrafts, dreams,
divinations, and the like, where there 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
further disclosing 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
are merely and sincerely natural. But as for the narrations
touching the prodigies and miracles of religions, they are either
not true or not natural; and, therefore, impertinent for the
story of Nature.
(5) For history of Nature, wrought or mechanical, I find some
collections made 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 as may be thought secrets, rarities, and special subtleties;
which humour 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 think much to dispute with
any that did allege such base and sordid instances.”
Whereunto Socrates answereth, “You have reason, and it
becomes you well, being a man so trim in your vestments,”
&c., 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 cometh often to pass that mean and
small things discover great, better than great can discover the
small; and therefore Aristotle noteth well, “That the
nature of everything is best seen in his smallest
portions.” And for that cause he inquireth the nature
of a commonwealth, 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.
(6) But if my judgment be of any weight, the use of history
mechanical is of all others the most radical and fundamental
towards natural philosophy; such natural philosophy as shall not
vanish in the fume of subtle, sublime, or delectable speculation,
but such as shall be operative to the endowment and benefit of
man’s life. For it will not only minister and suggest
for the present many ingenious practices in all trades, by a
connection 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
further, it will give 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.
II. (1) 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 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 drafts of
history; and antiquities are history defaced, or some remnants of
history which have casually escaped the shipwreck of time.
(2) Memorials, or preparatory history, are of two sorts;
whereof the one may be termed commentaries, and the other
registers. Commentaries are they which set down a
continuance of the naked events and actions, without the motives
or designs, the counsels, the speeches, the pretexts, the
occasions, and other passages of action. For this is the
true nature of a commentary (though Cæsar, in modesty mixed
with greatness, did for his pleasure apply the name of a
commentary to the best history of the world). Registers are
collections of public acts, as decrees of council, judicial
proceedings, declarations and letters of estate, orations, and
the like, without a perfect continuance or contexture of the
thread of the narration.
(3) 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, passages of books that concern
not story, and the like, do save and recover somewhat from the
deluge of time.
(4) In these kinds of unperfect 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 deserveth 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.
(5) History, which may be called just and perfect history, is
of three kinds, according to the object which it propoundeth, or
pretendeth to represent: for it either representeth a time, or a
person, or an action. The first we call chronicles, the
second lives, and the third narrations 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 representeth 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
è minimis, suspendens, 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 represent, in whom actions, both greater and smaller,
public and private, have a commixture, must of necessity contain
a more true, native, and lively representation. So again
narrations and relations of actions, as the war of Peloponnesus,
the expedition of Cyrus Minor, the conspiracy of Catiline, cannot
but be more purely and exactly true than histories of times,
because they may choose an argument comprehensible within the
notice and instructions of the writer: whereas he that
undertaketh the story of a time, specially 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.
(6) 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 Græcia 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.
(7) 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
Græcia, from Theseus to Philopœmen (what time the
affairs of Græcia 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 texts of Livius, Polybius, Sallustius, Cæsar,
Appianus, Tacitus, Herodianus in the other, to be kept entire,
without any diminution at all, and only to be supplied and
continued. But this is a matter of magnificence, rather to
be commended than required; and we speak now of parts of learning
supplemental, and not of supererogation.
(8) 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 aliena republica, 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 the 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 beginneth with the mixed
adoption of a crown by arms and title; an entry by battle, an
establishment by marriage; and therefore times answerable, like
waters after a tempest, 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 a 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 ÆNeas, 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 waverings 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.
(9) For lives, I do find strange that these times have so
little esteemed the virtues of the times, as that the writings 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 are there many worthy
personages that deserve better than dispersed report or barren
eulogies. For herein the invention of one of the late poets
is proper, and doth well enrich 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 Lathe; 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 then 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 consecrate.
And although many men, more mortal in their affections than in
their bodies, do esteem desire of name and memory but as a vanity
and ventosity,
“Animi nil magnæ laudis
egentes;”
which opinion cometh from that root, Non prius laudes
contempsimus, quam laudanda facere desivimus: yet that
will not alter Solomon’s judgment, Memoria justi cum
laudibus, at impiorum nomen putrescet: the one
flourisheth, the other either consumeth to present oblivion, or
turneth to an ill odour. And therefore in that style or
addition, which is and hath been long well received and brought
in use, felicis memoriæ, piæ
memoriæ, bonæ memoriæ, we do
acknowledge that which Cicero saith, borrowing it from
Demosthenes, that bona fama propria possessio defunctorum;
which possession I cannot but note that in our times it lieth
much waste, and that therein there is a deficience.
(10) For narrations and relations of particular actions, there
were also to be wished a greater diligence therein; 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, the 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 of such relations might be as a nursery
garden, whereby to plant a fair and stately garden when time
should serve.
(11) There is yet another partition of history which Cornelius
Tacitus maketh, which is not to be forgotten, specially with that
application which he accoupleth it withal, annals and journals:
appropriating to the former matters of estate, and to the latter
acts and accidents of a meaner nature. For giving but a
touch of certain magnificent buildings, he addeth, Cum ex
dignitate populi Romani repertum sit, res illustres
annalibus, talia diurnis urbis actis mandare. So
as there is a kind of contemplative heraldry, as well as
civil. And as nothing doth derogate from the dignity of a
state more than confusion of degrees, so it doth not a little
imbase the authority of a 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 we see the chronicle which was read before
Ahasuerus, when he could not take rest, contained matter 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 a use well received in enterprises
memorable, as expeditions of war, navigations, and the like, to
keep diaries of that which passeth continually.
(12) 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 discourse and observation thereupon: not incorporate 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 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 are things irregular, whereof no man can define.
(13) 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 mathematics, in respect of the climates and
configurations towards the heavens: which part of learning of all
others in this latter 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 through-lights made in it, till the age of us
and our fathers. For although they had knowledge of the
antipodes,
“Nosque ubi primus equis Oriens afflavit
anhelis,
Illic sera rubens accendit lumina Vesper,”
yet that might be by demonstration, and not in fact; and if by
travel, it requireth the voyage but of half the globe. But
to circle the earth, as the heavenly bodies do, was not done nor
enterprised till these later times: and therefore these times may
justly bear in their word, not only plus ultra, in
precedence of the ancient non ultra, and imitabile
fulmen, in precedence of the ancient non imitabile
fulmen,
“Demens qui nimbos et non imitabile
fulmen,” &c.
but likewise imitabile cælum; in respect of the
many memorable voyages after the manner of heaven about the globe
of the earth.
(14) And this proficience in navigation and discoveries may
plant also an expectation of the further proficience and
augmentation of 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
foretelleth, Plurimi pertransibunt, et multiplex erit
scientia: as if the openness and through-passage of the world
and the increase of knowledge were appointed to be in the same
ages; as we see it is already performed in great part: the
learning of these later times not much giving place to the former
two periods or returns of learning, the one of the Grecians, the
other of the Romans.
III. (1) History ecclesiastical receiveth the same divisions
with history civil: but further 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 be
fluctuant, as the ark of Noah, or movable, as the ark in the
wilderness, or at rest, as the ark in the Temple: that is, the
state of the Church in persecution, in remove, and in
peace. This part I ought in no sort to note as deficient;
only I would that the virtue and sincerity of it were according
to the mass and quantity. But I am not now in hand with
censures, but with omissions.
(2) The second, which is history of prophecy, consisteth of
two relatives—the prophecy and the accomplishment; and,
therefore, the nature of such a work ought to be, that every
prophecy of the Scripture 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 germinant 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.
(3) 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 has passed through the labour of many, and
therefore I cannot present as omitted.
(4) 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, invectives,
apologies, reprehensions, orations of formality or ceremony, and
the like. Letters are according to all the variety of
occasions, advertisements, advises, directions, propositions,
petitions, commendatory, expostulatory, satisfactory, of
compliment, of pleasure, of discourse, and all other passages of
action. And such as are 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 advised 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 Cæsar’s; for as
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 deficiences to propound concerning
them.
(5) 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.
IV. (1) Poesy 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, &c. It is
taken in two senses in respect of words or matter. In the
first sense, it is but a character of style, 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 styled as well in prose as in verse.
(2) 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 more 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
representeth actions and events more ordinary and less
interchanged, therefore poesy endueth them with more rareness and
more unexpected and alternative variations. So as it
appeareth that poesy serveth and conferreth 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 desires 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 and
barbarous regions, where other learning stood excluded.
(3) The division of poesy which is aptest in the propriety
thereof (besides those divisions which are common unto it with
history, as feigned chronicles, feigned lives, and the appendices
of history, as feigned epistles, feigned orations, and the rest)
is into poesy narrative, representative, and allusive. The
narrative is a mere imitation of history, with the excesses
before remembered, choosing for subjects commonly wars and love,
rarely state, and sometimes pleasure or 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 they are (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
Æsop, 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 subtle than the vulgar in that manner) because men
in those times wanted both variety of examples and subtlety 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 rigour, because reason cannot
be so sensible nor examples so fit.
(4) But there remaineth yet another use of poesy parabolical,
opposite to that which we last mentioned; for that tendeth 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, or philosophy, are
involved in fables or parables. Of this in divine poesy we
see the use is authorised. In heathen poesy we see 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 parens, ira irritat Deorum,
Extremam, ut perhibent, Cœo Enceladoque soroem,
Progenuit.”
Expounded that when princes and monarchs have suppressed
actual and open rebels, then the malignity of people (which is
the mother of rebellion) doth 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 Jupiter, 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 belongeth to the education and
discipline of princes to know as well how to play the part of a
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 fable 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 fasten the assertions
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 these
poets which are now extant, even Homer himself (notwithstanding
he was made a kind of scripture by the later 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.
(5) In this third part of learning, which is poesy, I can
report no deficience; for being as a plant that cometh of the
lust of the earth, without 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 expressing of affections, passions,
corruptions, and customs, we are beholding to poets more than to
the philosophers’ works; and for wit and eloquence, not
much less than to orators’ 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.
V. (1) 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.
(2) In philosophy the contemplations of man do either
penetrate unto God, or are circumferred to nature, or are
reflected or reverted upon himself. Out of which several
inquiries there do arise three knowledges—divine
philosophy, natural philosophy, and human philosophy or
humanity. For all things are marked and stamped with this
triple character—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 part of
natural philosophy which concerneth the principles, and of that
other part of natural philosophy which concerneth the soul or
spirit—all these strangely commixed and confused; but being
examined, it seemeth 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 considereth of many things as they are in
notion, and this philosophy as they are 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 extern
characters of things, as philosophers, and in nature, their
inquiries must of force have been of a far other kind than they
are. For doth any of them, in handling quantity, speak of
the force of union, how and how far it multiplieth 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 all subtlety, my meaning touching this
original or universal philosophy is thus, in a 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.”
(3) Now that there are many of that kind need not be
doubted. For example: Is not the rule, Si
inœqualibus æqualia addas, omnia erunt
inæqualia, an axiom as well of justice as of the
mathematics? and is there not a true coincidence between
commutative and distributive justice, and arithmetical and
geometrical proportion? Is not that other rule,
Quæ in eodem tertio conveniunt, et inter se
conveniunt, a rule taken from the mathematics, but so potent
in logic as all syllogisms are 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 requireth
the same omnipotency to make somewhat nothing, which at the first
made nothing somewhat? according to the Scripture, Didici quod
omnia opera, quœ fecit Deus, perseverent in
perpetuum; non possumus eis quicquam addere nec
auferre. Is not the ground, which Machiavel wisely and
largely discourseth 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, 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 the water?
“Splendet tremulo sub lumine
pontus.”
Are not the organs of the senses of one kind with the organs
of reflection, 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 spring-head thereof
seemeth to me not to have been visited, being of so excellent use
both for the disclosing of nature and the abridgment of art.
VI. (1) This science being therefore first placed as a common
parent like unto Berecynthia, which had so much heavenly issue,
omnes cœlicolas, omnes supera alta tenetes;
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 sufficeth 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
extendeth 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 omnipotency and wisdom of the Maker, but not His image.
And therefore therein the heathen opinion differeth 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 the points of faith, is in my
judgment not safe; Da fidei quæ fidei sunt.
For the heathen themselves conclude as much in that excellent 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 down 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 knowledge,
touching divine philosophy, I am so far from noting any
deficience, as I rather note an excess; whereunto 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.
(2) 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, “Let no man deceive you in sublime
discourse touching the worship of angels, pressing into that he
knoweth not,” &c., 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, either to extol them further than appertaineth to the
degree of a creature, or to extol a man’s knowledge of them
further 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 are 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.
VII. (1) Leaving therefore divine philosophy or natural
theology (not divinity or inspired theology, which we reserve for
the last 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 Democritus said, “That the truth of
nature lieth 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 imitateth that dexterously
and compendiously, which nature worketh 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 scholastical terms: namely, that these be the two parts of
natural 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 true 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 intercourse between causes and
effects, so as both these knowledges, speculative and operative,
have a great connection between themselves; yet because all true
and fruitful natural philosophy hath a double scale or ladder,
ascendent and descendent, ascending from experiments 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.
(2) Natural science or theory is divided into physic and
metaphysic; 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
proficience 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:—Veni in
nomine partis, nec recipits me; si quis venerit in
nomine suo eum 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 all
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 prædo, non utile
mundo
Editus exemplum, &c.”
So,
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.
(3) 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 philosophia
prima, summary philosophy and metaphysic, 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
descendant 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 or the relative and adventive characters of essences,
as quantity, similitude, 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 enclosed 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 physic should handle that which
supposeth in nature only a being and moving; and metaphysic
should handle that which supposeth further in nature a reason,
understanding, and platform. But 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 concerneth
the inquiry of causes we do subdivide according to the received
and sound division of causes. The one part, which is
physic, inquireth and handleth the material and efficient causes;
and the other, which is metaphysic, handleth the formal and final
causes.
(4) 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 the
fixed and constant causes.
“Limus ut hic durescit, et hæc ut cera
liquescit,
Uno eodemque 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 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 contemplateth 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 mundo, de universitate rerum.
The second is the doctrine concerning the principles or originals
of things. 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 man.
(5) 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 there 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 are 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 terræ, et spiravit in
faciem ejus spiraculum vitæ, and not as of all other
creatures, Producant aquæ, producat terra),
the forms of substances I say (as they are now by compounding and
transplanting multiplied) are so perplexed, as they are not to be
inquired; no more than it were either possible or to purpose to
seek in gross the forms of those sounds which make words, which
by composition and transposition 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 all words,
which consist and are compounded of them. In the same
manner to inquire the form of a 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 qualities, which, like an alphabet, are 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 subtle 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 vehiculum formæ. This part of
metaphysic I do not find laboured and performed; whereat I marvel
not; because I 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.
(6) 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 individual experience, as much as the
conception of truth will permit, and to remedy the complaint of
vita brevis, ars longa; which is performed by
uniting the notions and conceptions of sciences. For
knowledges are as pyramids, whereof history is the basis.
So of natural philosophy, 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
operatur Deus à principio usque ad finem, 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 are depraved no better than the
giants’ hills:—
“Ter sunt conati imponere Pelio Ossam,
Scilicet atque Ossæ frondsum involvere Olympum.”
But to those which refer all things to the glory of God, they
are as the three acclamations, Sante, sancte,
sancte! holy in the description or dilatation of His
works; holy in the connection or concatenation of them; and holy
in the union of them in a perpetual and uniform law. And,
therefore, the speculation was excellent in Parmenides 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 least multiplicity, which appeareth to be
metaphysic; as that which considereth the simple forms or
differences of things, which are few in number, and the degrees
and co-ordinations whereof make all this variety. The
second respect, which valueth and commendeth this part of
metaphysic, is that it doth enfranchise the power of man unto the
greatest liberty and possibility of works and effects. For
physic carrieth men in narrow and restrained ways, subject to
many accidents and impediments, imitating the ordinary flexuous
courses of nature. But latæ undique sunt
sapientibus viæ; to sapience (which was anciently
defined to be rerum divinarum et humanarum scientia) there
is ever a choice of means. For physical causes give light
to new invention in simili materia. But whosoever
knoweth any form, knoweth the utmost possibility of superinducing
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
either to particularity or chance.
(7) 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
improficience 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 further 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 likewise 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 frames of the bodies of
living creatures are built;” or that “the leaves of
trees are for 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 hindrances to stay and slug
the ship from further sailing; and have brought this to pass,
that the search of the physical causes hath been neglected 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 of 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, and 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 the limits of physical causes hath
bred a vastness and solitude in that tract. 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 eyelids are for the safeguard of the sight,” doth not
impugn the cause rendered, that “pilosity is incident to
orifices of moisture—muscosi fontes,
&c.” 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 adjacence to foreign or
unlike bodies;” and so of the rest, both causes being true
and compatible, the one declaring an intention, the other a
consequence only. Neither doth this call in question or
derogate from Divine Providence, but highly confirm and exalt
it. For as in civil actions he is the greater and deeper
politique that can make other men the instruments of his will and
ends, and yet never acquaint them with his purpose, so as they
shall do it and yet not know what they do, than he that imparteth
his meaning to those he employeth; so is the wisdom of God more
admirable, when Nature intendeth one thing and Providence draweth
forth another, than if He had communicated to particular
creatures and motions the characters and impressions of His
Providence. And thus much for metaphysic; the latter part
whereof I allow as extant, but wish it confined to his proper
place.
VIII. (1) Nevertheless, there remaineth yet another part of
natural philosophy, 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
philosophia prima (as hath been said), but quantity
determined or proportionable, it appeareth to be one of the
essential forms of things, as that that is causative in Nature of
a number of effects; insomuch as we see in the schools both of
Democritus and of 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
forms, which are more immersed in matter. For it being the
nature of the mind of man (to the extreme prejudice of knowledge)
to delight in the spacious liberty of generalities, as in a
champaign region, and not in the inclosures of particularity, the
mathematics of all other knowledge were the goodliest fields to
satisfy that appetite. But for the placing of this science,
it is not much material: only we have endeavoured in these our
partitions to observe a kind of perspective, that one part may
cast light upon another.
(2) The mathematics are either pure or mixed. To the
pure mathematics are those sciences belonging which handle
quantity determinate, 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 subtlety, nor
demonstrated with sufficient perspicuity, nor accommodated unto
use with sufficient dexterity, without the aid and intervening of
the mathematics, of which sort are perspective, music, astronomy,
cosmography, architecture, engineery, and divers others. In
the mathematics I can report no deficience, except it be that men
do not sufficiently understand this excellent use of the pure
mathematics, in that they do remedy and cure many defects in the
wit and faculties intellectual. For if the wit be too 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 maketh a
quick eye and a body ready to put itself into all postures, so in
the mathematics that use which is collateral and intervenient is
no less worthy than that which is principal and intended.
And as for the mixed mathematics, I may only make this
prediction, 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.
(3) 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 metaphysic.
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 experiment,
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, premendo littus iniquum; for it seemeth to me there
can hardly be discovered any radical or fundamental 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 observations of
sympathies and antipathies, and hidden proprieties, and some
frivolous experiments, strange rather by disguisement than in
themselves, 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 Cæsar’s
Commentaries in truth of story; for it is manifest that
Cæsar did greater things de vero than those
imaginary 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 the 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 fire, and the
rest, may superinduce upon some metal the nature and form of gold
by such mechanic as longeth to the production of the natures
afore rehearsed, than 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, the 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
dependeth 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 operations themselves from metaphysic,
there 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 calendar, resembling an inventory of the
estate of man, containing all the inventions (being the works or
fruits of Nature or art) which are now extant, and whereof man is
already possessed; out of which doth naturally result a note what
things are yet held impossible, or not invented, which calendar
will be the more artificial and serviceable if to every reputed
impossibility you add what thing is extant which cometh the
nearest in degree to that impossibility; to the end that by these
optatives and potentials man’s inquiry may be the more
awake in deducing direction of works from the speculation of
causes. And secondly, that these experiments be not only
esteemed which have an immediate and present use, but those
principally which are 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 invention of the sails which give the
motion.
(4) Thus have I passed through natural philosophy and the
deficiences 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 canimus surdis, respondent omnia
sylvæ,”
the voice of Nature will consent, whether the voice of man do
or no. And as Alexander Borgia was wont to say of the
expedition of the French for Naples, that they came with chalk in
their hands to mark up their lodgings, and not with weapons to
fight; so I like better that entry of truth which cometh
peaceably with chalk to mark up those minds which are capable to
lodge and harbour it, than that which cometh with pugnacity and
contention.
(5) But there remaineth 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 reporteth either an assertion or a doubt.
These doubts or non liquets are 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
continuance; but so nevertheless as there is one point whereof
warning is to be given and taken. The registering 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 sponges to draw use of knowledge; insomuch as
that which if doubts had not 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 and
inconvenience, which will intrude itself if it be not debarred;
which is, that when a doubt is once received, men labour rather
how to keep it a doubt still, than how to solve it, and
accordingly bend their wits. Of this we see the familiar
example in lawyers and scholars, both which, if they have once
admitted a doubt, it goeth ever after authorised for a
doubt. But that use of wit and knowledge is to be allowed,
which laboureth to make doubtful things certain, and not those
which labour to make certain things doubtful. Therefore
these calendars of doubts I commend as excellent things; so that
there he this caution used, that when they be thoroughly sifted
and brought to resolution, they be from thenceforth omitted,
discarded, and not continued to cherish and encourage men in
doubting. To which calendar of doubts or problems I advise
be annexed another calendar, as much or more material which is a
calendar of popular errors: I mean chiefly in natural history,
such as pass in speech and conceit, and are nevertheless
apparently detected and convicted of untruth, that man’s
knowledge be not weakened nor embased by such dross and
vanity. As for the doubts or non liquets general or
in total, I understand those 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 Empedocles, Pythagoras, 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 are satisfied by this received
astronomy of the diurnal motion, and the proper motions of the
planets, with their eccentrics and epicycles, and likewise by the
theory of Copernicus, who supposed the earth to move, and the
calculations are indifferently agreeable to both, so the ordinary
face and view of experience is many times satisfied by several
theories and philosophies; whereas to find the real truth
requireth another manner of severity and attention. For as
Aristotle saith, that children at the first will call every woman
mother, but afterward 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 meantime it is good to see
the several glosses and opinions upon Nature, whereof it may be
everyone in some one point hath seen clearer than his fellows,
therefore I wish some collection to be made painfully and
understandingly de antiquis philosophiis, out of all the
possible light which remaineth to us of them: which kind of work
I find deficient. But here I must give warning, that it be
done distinctly and severedly; the philosophies of everyone
throughout by themselves, and not by titles packed and faggoted
up together, as hath been done by Plutarch. For it is the
harmony of a philosophy in itself, which giveth 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 Tranquillus, gathered into titles and
bundles and not in order of time, they seem more monstrous and
incredible: so is it of any philosophy reported entire, and
dismembered by articles. Neither do I exclude opinions of
latter times to be likewise represented in this calendar of sects
of philosophy, as that of Theophrastus Paracelsus, eloquently
reduced into an harmony by the pen of Severinus the Dane; and
that 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 Gilbertus our countryman, who revived, with
some alterations and demonstrations, the opinions of Xenophanes;
and any other worthy to be admitted.
(6) Thus have we now dealt with two of the three beams of
man’s knowledge; that is radius directus, which is
referred to nature, radius refractus, which is referred to
God, and cannot report truly because of the inequality of the
medium. There resteth radius reflexus, whereby man
beholdeth and contemplateth himself.
IX. (1) We come therefore now to that knowledge whereunto the
ancient oracle directeth us, which is the knowledge of ourselves;
which deserveth the more accurate handling, by how much it
toucheth us more nearly. This knowledge, as it is the end
and term of natural philosophy 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 rather for lines and
veins than for sections and separations; and that the continuance
and entireness of knowledge be preserved. For the contrary
hereof hath made particular sciences to become barren, shallow,
and erroneous, while they have not been nourished and 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 we may see that the opinion of
Copernicus, touching the rotation of the earth, which astronomy
itself cannot correct, because it is not repugnant to any of the
phenomena, yet natural philosophy may correct. So we
see also that the science of medicine if it be destituted and
forsaken 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 man segregate or distributively, the other
congregate or in society; so as human philosophy is either simple
and particular, or conjugate and civil. Humanity particular
consisteth of the same parts whereof man consisteth: that is, of
knowledges which respect the body, and of knowledges 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 emancipate and made a
knowledge by itself, not so much in regard of those delightful
and elegant discourses 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 sympathies and
concordances between the mind and body, which being mixed cannot
be properly assigned to the sciences of either.
(2) 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 prenotion; whereof the one is
honoured with the inquiry of Aristotle, and the other of
Hippocrates. And although they have of later time been used
to be coupled with superstitions and fantastical arts, yet 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 further disclose the present humour and state
of the mind and will. For as your majesty saith most aptly
and elegantly, “As the tongue speaketh to the ear so the
gesture speaketh 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 observation,
as being most part of their ability; neither can it be denied,
but that it is a great discovery of dissimulations, and a great
direction in business.
(3) 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 affects 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
superstition. For the physician prescribeth cures of the
mind in frenzies and melancholy passions, and pretendeth also to
exhibit medicines to exhilarate the mind, to control the courage,
to clarify the wits, to corroborate 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
Manichees, and in the law of Mahomet, do exceed. 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, are many and strict; nay, the faith
itself being clear and serene from all clouds of ceremony, yet
retaineth the use of fastlings, 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 dependency 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 wise physicians, in the
prescriptions of their regiments to their patients, do ever
consider accidentia animi, as of great force to further or
hinder remedies or recoveries: and more specially it is an
inquiry of great depth and worth concerning imagination, how and
how far it altereth the body proper of the imaginant; for
although it hath a manifest power to hurt, it followeth not 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 communi
vinculo, of the concordances between the mind and the body,
that part of inquiry is most necessary which considereth 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 controverted, 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.
X. (1) 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 subtlety of the
subject doth cause large possibility and easy failing, and
therefore the inquiry ought to be the more exact.
(2) To speak, therefore, of medicine, and to resume that we
have said, ascending a little higher: the ancient opinion that
man was microcosmus—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 less 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 is
of the most compounded mass. The soul, on the other side,
is the simplest of substances, as is well expressed:
“Purumque
reliquit
Æthereum sensum atque auraï simplicis
ignem.”
So that it is no marvel though the soul so placed enjoy no
rest, if that principle be true, that Motus rerum est 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 consequent 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 are judged by acts or masterpieces, as I 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; this master in this ship is judged by the directing
his course aright, and not by the fortune of the voyage; but the
physician, and perhaps this politique, 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 refer a
mountebank or witch before a learned physician. And
therefore the poets were clear-sighted in discerning this extreme
folly when they made Æsculapius and Circe, brother and
sister, both children of the sun, as in the verses—
“Ipse repertorem medicinæ talis et
artis
Fulmine Phœbigenam Stygias detrusit ad undas.”
And again—
“Dives inaccessos ubi Solis filia
lucos,” &c.
For in all times, in the opinion of the multitude, witches and
old women and impostors, have had a competition with
physicians. And what followeth? Even this, that
physicians say to themselves, as Solomon expresseth it upon a
higher occasion, “If it befall to me as befalleth 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 fancy more than
their profession; for you shall have of them antiquaries, poets,
humanists, statesmen, merchants, divines, and in every of these
better seen than in their profession; and no doubt upon this
ground that they find that mediocrity and excellency in their art
maketh no difference in profit or reputation towards their
fortune: for the weakness of patients, and sweetness of life, and
nature of hope, maketh men depend upon physicians with all their
defects. But, nevertheless, these 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 subtlety 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 buffon 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
breedeth these mazes and incomprehensions; for as the sense afar
off is full of mistaking, but is exact at hand, so is it of the
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, variabimus
artes;
Mille mali 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
Æsculapius 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 Cæsar), but only about the preserving, sustaining, and
healing the body of man.
(3) 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 progression. For I find much iteration, but
small addition. It considereth 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.
(4) 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 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 this manner, which are
not new in the kind; and if men will intend to observe, they
shall find much worthy to observe.
(5) In the inquiry which is made by anatomy, I find much
deficience: for they inquire of the parts, and their substances,
figures, and collocations; but they inquire not of the
diversities of the parts, the secrecies of the passages, and the
seats or nestling 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 are 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 subtle 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 anatomia vivorum was by Celsus justly
reproved; 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 the dissection of beasts
alive, which notwithstanding 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, consumptions, contractions, extensions,
convulsions, dislocations, obstructions, 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.
(6) In the inquiry of 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 than they did in the Roman
prescriptions. Therefore I will 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
discredit.
(7) Nay further, 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 Cæsar 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 sheep. 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 assuaging of the pains and
agonies of death.
(5) 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 qua 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 mithridatum, and of late
diascordium, and a few more, they tie 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 appropriate to particular diseases. And this is the
cause why empirics and old women are more happy many times in
their cures than 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 particular diseases, besides their own conjectural
and magistral descriptions. 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.
(9) In preparation of medicines I do find strange, specially
considering 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: which nevertheless are confessed to
receive their virtues from minerals; and not so only, but
discerned and distinguished from what particular mineral they
receive tincture, as sulphur, vitriol, steel, or the like; which
nature, if 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.
(10) But lest I grow to be more particular than is agreeable
either to my intention or to proportion, I will conclude this
part with the note of one deficience more, which seemeth to me of
greatest consequence: which is, that the prescripts in use are
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 miss 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 straight
way is the way to heaven; but the truth of the direction must
precede severity of observance.
(11) For cosmetic, it hath parts civil, and parts effeminate:
for cleanness 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.
(12) For athletic, I take the subject of it largely, that is
to say, for any point of ability whereunto the body of man may be
brought, whether it be of activity, or of patience; whereof
activity hath two parts, strength and swiftness; and patience
likewise hath two parts, hardness against wants and extremities,
and endurance of pain or 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 concerneth them is not much inquired; the
rather, I think, because they are supposed to be obtained, either
by an aptness of nature, which cannot be taught, or only by
continual custom, which is soon prescribed which though it be not
true, yet I forbear to note any deficiences; for the Olympian
games are down long since, and the mediocrity of these things is
for use; as for the excellency of them it serveth for the most
part but for mercenary ostentation.
(13) For arts of pleasure sensual, the chief deficience in
them is of laws 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
joculary; 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.
XI. (1) 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 adventive, 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 travail 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 hounded 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
appendices; which, as they have been handled, have rather
vapoured forth fables than kindled truth: divination and
fascination.
(2) Divination hath been anciently and fitly divided into
artificial and natural: whereof artificial is, when the mind
maketh a prediction by argument, concluding upon signs and
tokens; natural is, when the mind hath a presention by an
internal power, without the inducement 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
politique hath his predictions; O urbem venalem, et
cito perituram, si emptorem invenerit! which stayed
not long to be performed, in Sylla first, and after in
Cæsar: so as these predictions are now impertinent, and to
be referred over. But the divination which springeth from
the internal nature of the soul is that which we now speak of;
which 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 ecstasies, 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
influxions; 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.
(3) Fascination is the power and act of imagination intensive
upon other bodies than the body of the imaginant, for of that we
spake 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 specially of the
contagion that passeth from body to body, do conceive 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 are 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. Deficiences in these
knowledges I will report none, other than the general deficience,
that it is not known how much of them is verity, and how much
vanity.
XII. (1) The knowledge which respecteth the faculties 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 position or decree, the
latter action or execution. It is true that the imagination
is an agent or nuncius in both provinces, 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 nevertheless are faces,
“Quales decet esse sororum.”
Neither is the imagination simply and only a messenger; but is
invested with, or at least wise usurpeth 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 recommendation 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 a pleasure or play of imagination than a work or duty
thereof. And if it be a work, we speak not now of such
parts of learning as the imagination produceth, but 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 extendeth to all philosophy), but of such knowledges as
do handle and inquire of the faculty of reason: so as poesy had
his 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.
(2) The part of human philosophy which is rational is of all
knowledges, to the most wits, the least delightful, and seemeth
but a net of subtlety 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 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 are 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;” so 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.
(3) The arts intellectual are four in number, divided
according to the ends whereunto 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 invention;
art of examination or judgment; art of custody or memory; and art
of elocution or tradition.
XIII. (1) 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
seemeth to me to be such a deficience 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 further discovered, if the art itself of invention
and discovery hath been passed over.
(2) That this part of knowledge is wanting, to my judgment
standeth plainly confessed; for first, logic doth not pretend to
invent sciences, or the axioms of sciences, but passeth it over
with a cuique in sua arte credendum. And Celsus
acknowledgeth 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 “Theætetus” noteth well, “That
particulars are 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
propositions, 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 genetrix Cretæa carpit ab
Ida,
Puberibus caulem foliis et flore camantem
Purpureo; non illa feris incognita capris
Gramina, cum tergo volucres hæsere
sagittæ.”
So that it was no marvel (the manner of antiquity being to
consecrate inventors) that the Egyptians had so few human idols
in their temples, but almost all brute:
“Omnigenumque Deum monstra, et latrator
Anubis,
Contra Neptunum, et Venerem, contraque Minervam,
&c.”
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 stroke the flints, and marvelled at the
spark, than that when he first stroke 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 pot-lid that flew 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 describeth much other:
“Ut varias usus meditande extunderet
artes
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 ure; which
is a perpetual 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 artem sæpe 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
χαιρε? Who taught the raven
in a drought to throw pebbles into a hollow tree, where she spied
water, that the water might rise so as she might come to
it? Who taught the bee to sail through such a vast sea or
air, and to find the way from a field in a 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 extundere, which importeth
the extreme difficulty, and the word paulatim, which
importeth the extreme slowness, and we are where we were, even
amongst the Egyptians’ gods; there being little left to the
faculty of reason, and nothing to the duty or art, for matter of
invention.
(3) Secondly, the induction which the logicians speak of, and
which seemeth 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 error 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 attentively
observe how the mind doth gather this excellent dew of knowledge,
like unto that which the poet speaketh of, Aërei mellis
cælestia dona, distilling and contriving it out of
particulars natural and artificial, as the flowers of the field
and garden, shall find that 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
particulars which appear of a side, that there are not other on
the contrary 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 subtle 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
viatores, for sergeants and whifflers, ad summovendam
turbam, 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 see how the footsteps
of seducement 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 attending the inductions (whereof we
speak), as if it were a second infancy or childhood.
(4) 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 philosophy
likewise, by way of argument or satisfactory reason, Quæ
assensum parit operis effæta est; but the subtlety of
nature and operations will not be enchained in those bonds.
For arguments consist of propositions, and propositions of words,
and words are 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 examination
either of consequences of arguments, or of the truth of
propositions, 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, Scientiam 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 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 progresses of pleasure than
journeys to an end. But assuredly many scattered in both
academies did hold it in subtlety 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 subtle for the sense
to some effect comprehensible 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.
(5) This part of invention, concerning the invention of
sciences, I purpose (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
naturæ; the former being but a degree and rudiment of
the latter. But I will not dwell too long, nor speak too
great upon a promise.
(6) 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 resummon 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 judgment, as
subsequent and not precedent. Nevertheless, because we do
account it a chase 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 knowledge, and not addition or amplification thereof.
(7) To procure this ready use of knowledge there are two
courses, preparation and suggestion. The former of these
seemeth scarcely a part 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 shoemaking 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 reply, that if a
shoemaker should have no shoes in his shop, but only work as he
is bespoken, he should be weakly customed. But our Saviour,
speaking of divine knowledge, saith, “That the kingdom of
heaven is like a good householder, that bringeth forth both new
and old store;” and we see the ancient writers of rhetoric
do give it in precept, that pleaders should have the places,
whereof they have most continual use, ready handled in all the
variety that may be; as that, to speak for the literal
interpretation of the law against equity, and contrary; and to
speak for presumptions and inferences against testimony, and
contrary. And Cicero himself, being broken unto it by great
experience, delivereth it plainly, that whatsoever a man shall
have occasion to speak of (if he will take the pains), he may
have it in effect premeditate and handled in thesi.
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 see 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
overweigh Aristotle’s opinion, that would have us change a
rich wardrobe for a pair of shears.
(8) 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 further
handling of it to rhetoric.
(9) The other part of invention, which I term suggestion, doth
assign and direct us to certain marks, or places, which may
excite our mind to 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 apprompt our invention, but also to
direct our inquiry. For a faculty of wise interrogating is
half a knowledge. For as Plato saith, “Whosoever
seeketh, knoweth that which he seeketh 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.
(10) 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 subtle in a few
things which are within their command, and to reject the rest), I
do receive particular topics; that is, places or directions 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 holdeth 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 remaineth, so every
degree of proceeding in a science giveth a light to that which
followeth; which light, if we strengthen by drawing it forth into
questions or places of inquiry, we do greatly advance our
pursuit.
XIV. (1) 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 all inductions, whether in
good or vicious form, the same action of the mind which
inventeth, 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 interpretation of Nature.
(2) For the other judgment by syllogism, as it is a thing most
agreeable to the mind of man, so it hath been vehemently end
excellently laboured. For the nature of man doth extremely
covet to have somewhat in his understanding fixed and unmovable,
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 disputatious might turn.
(3) 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 incommodum, or pressing
an absurdity; the number of middle terms to be as the proposition
standeth degrees more or less removed from the principle.
(4) 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 setteth down a true form of consequence, by the
variations and deflections 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.
(5) The second method of doctrine was introduced for expedite
use and assurance sake, discovering the more subtle forms of
sophisms and illaqueations with their redargutions, which is that
which is termed elenches. 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 well it is not as it seemeth to
be; yet the more subtle sort of them doth not only put a man
besides his answer, but doth many times abuse his judgment.
(6) 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, fallace, and redargution. 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.
(7) But yet further, 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 other
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, specially of such words as are most general and
intervene in every inquiry, it seemeth to me that the true and
fruitful use (leaving vain subtleties and speculations) of the
inquiry of majority, minority, priority, posteriority, identity,
diversity, possibility, act, totality, parts, existence,
privation, and the like, are 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.
(8) Secondly, there is a seducement that worketh by the
strength of the impression, and not by the subtlety of the
illaqueation—not so much perplexing the reason, as
overruling it by power of the imagination. But this part I
think more proper to handle when I shall speak of rhetoric.
(9) 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 appertaineth 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; 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
affirmative or active to affect more than the negative or
privative. So that a few times hitting or presence
countervails ofttimes 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 cometh 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 monodica, sui juris,
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 ædilis,
one that should have set forth some magnificent shows or
plays. For if that great Work-master had been of a human
disposition, 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 a
harmony there is between the spirit of man and the spirit of
Nature.
(10) Let us consider again the false appearances imposed upon
us by every man’s own individual nature and custom in that
feigned supposition 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 imaginations. So, in like manner, although our
persons live in the view of heaven, yet our spirits are included
in the caves of our own complexions 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.
(11) 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 we govern our words, and prescribe it well
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 entangle and pervert
the judgment. So as it is almost necessary in all
controversies and disputations to imitate the wisdom of the
mathematicians, in setting down in the very beginning the
definitions of our words and 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 are inseparable from our nature and condition of
life; so yet, nevertheless, the caution of them (for all
elenches, as was said, are but cautions) doth extremely import
the true conduct of human judgment. The particular elenches
or cautions against these three false appearances I find
altogether deficient.
(12) There remaineth one part of judgment of great excellency
which to mine understanding is so slightly touched, as I may
report that also deficient; which is the application of the
differing kinds of proofs to the differing kinds of
subjects. For there being but four kinds of 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.
XV. (1) The custody or retaining of knowledge is either 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, it consisteth 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 assureth 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 pedantical divisions, without all life or
respect to action.
(2) 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 seemeth
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 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
rhymes extempore, or the making of a satirical simile of
everything, or the turning of everything to a jest, or the
falsifying or contradicting of everything by cavil, or the like
(whereof in the faculties of the mind there is great copy, 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.
(3) This art of memory is but built upon two intentions; the
one prenotion, the other emblem. Prenotion dischargeth the
indefinite seeking of that we would remember, and directeth 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.
XVI. (1) There remaineth 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 concerning the
illustration of tradition.
(2) For the organ of tradition, it is either speech or
writing; for Aristotle saith well, “Words are the images of
cogitations, and letters are 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 commerce 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 further, that it is the use of China and the kingdoms
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 are accepted
more generally than the languages do extend; and, therefore, they
have a vast multitude of characters, as many, I suppose, as
radical words.
(3) 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 are 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 Periander,
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 placitum, 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 intendment; a speculation
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, I find not inquired, but deficient. And
although it may seem of no great use, considering that words and
writings by letters do far excel all the other ways; yet because
this part concerneth, 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), I thought
good to propound it to better inquiry.
(4) Concerning speech and words, the consideration of them
hath produced the science of grammar. For man still
striveth 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 perfect 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
are the footsteps and prints of reason: which kind of analogy
between words and reason is handled sparsim, 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.
(5) Unto grammar also belongeth, as an appendix, the
consideration of the accidents of words; which are measure,
sound, and elevation or accent, and the sweetness and harshness
of them: whence hath issued 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 this sense is better
judge than the art:
“Cœnæ fercula
nostræ
Mallem convivis quam placuisse cocis.”
And of the servile expressing antiquity in an unlike and an
unfit subject, it is well said, “Quod tempore antiquum
videtur, id incongruitate est maxime novum.”
(6) 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, &c.
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
quintuple 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.
(7) 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.
XVII. (1) 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.
(2) Method hath been placed, and that not amiss, in logic, as
a part of judgment. For as the doctrine of syllogisms
comprehendeth the 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.
(3) The latter whereof seemeth to be via deserta et
interclusa. For as knowledges are now delivered, there
is a kind of contract of error between the deliverer and the
receiver. For he that delivereth knowledge desireth to
deliver it in such form as may be best believed, and not as may
be best examined; and he that receiveth knowledge desireth 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.
(4) But 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, secundum
majus 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 slips: so
the delivery of knowledges (as it is now used) is as of fair
bodies 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 therefore note it for deficient.
(5) 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
merchandises; 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.
(6) Another diversity of method, whereof the consequence is
great, is the delivery of knowledge in aphorisms, or in 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 formal art, filling it with some discourses,
and illustrating it with examples, and digesting it into a
sensible method. But the writing in aphorisms hath many
excellent virtues, whereto the writing in method doth not
approach.
(7) 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
disjointed, 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 knowledge
broken, do invite men to inquire further; whereas methods,
carrying the show of a total, do secure men, as if they were at
furthest.
(8) 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 as
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: indeed a man would not leave some important piece
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 disputatious and doubts.
(9) Another diversity of method 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 the most immersed. And
howsoever contention hath been moved, touching a 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 learning 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 for
invention, so I do allow likewise of particular methods of
tradition.
(10) Another diversity of judgment in the delivery and
teaching of knowledge is, according unto the light and
presuppositions of that 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
Democritus, doth in truth commend him, where he saith “If
we shall indeed dispute, and not follow after similitudes,”
&c. For those whose conceits are seated in popular
opinions need only but to prove or dispute; but those whose
conceits are 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 conceits which are now trivial were then
new, the world was full of 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.
(11) There be also other diversities of methods vulgar and
received: as that of resolution or analysis, of constitution or
systasis, of concealment or cryptic, &c., which I do allow
well of, though I have stood upon those which are least handled
and observed. All which I have remembered to this purpose,
because I would erect and constitute one general inquiry (which
seems to me deficient) touching the wisdom of tradition.
(12) But unto this part of knowledge, concerning method, doth
further belong not only the architecture of the whole frame of a
work, but also the several beams and columns thereof; not as to
their stuff, but as to their quantity and figure. And
therefore method considereth not only the disposition of the
argument or subject, but likewise the propositions: 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 of
propositions—Καθολον
πρωτον, κυτα
παντος &c.—than he did
in introducing the canker of epitomes; and yet (as it is the
condition 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, or incurring into themselves;
but yet the intention was excellent.
(13) The other considerations of method, concerning
propositions, are chiefly touching the utmost propositions, which
limit the dimensions of sciences: for every knowledge may be
fitly said, besides the profundity (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
Καθαυτο; 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 certainty there must be
somewhat left to practice; but how much 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’ 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
question, the inquiry whereof seemeth to me deficient.
(14) 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 manner as men may
speedily come to make a show of learning, who have it not.
Such was the travail of Raymundus Lullius in making that art
which bears his name; not unlike to some books of typocosmy,
which have been made since; being nothing 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.
XVIII. (1) 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 admiration, but that it is eloquence that
prevaileth 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
rhetoric 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
deficiences 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.
(2) 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 see 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
affection, which pertains to morality. And as in
negotiation with others, men are wrought by cunning, by
importunity, and by vehemency; so in this negotiation within
ourselves, men are undermined by inconsequences, solicited and
importuned by impressions or observations, and transported by
passions. Neither is the nature of man so 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 fill
the imagination to second reason, and not to oppress it; for
these abuses of arts come in but ex oblique, for
caution.
(3) And therefore it was great injustice in Plato, though
springing out of a just hatred to the rhetoricians of his time,
to esteem of rhetoric but as a voluptuary art, resembling it to
cookery, that did mar wholesome meats, and help unwholesome by
variety of sauces to the pleasure 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 speaketh 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 imagination in lively
representation; for to show her to reason only in subtlety of
argument was a thing ever derided in Chrysippus and many of the
Stoics, who thought to thrust virtue upon men by sharp
disputations and conclusions, which have no sympathy with the
will of man.
(4) 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 seditious of the affections—
“Video meliora,
proboque,
Deteriora sequor,”
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
persuasion hath made things future and remote appear as present,
then upon the revolt of the imagination reason prevaileth.
(5) 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 are the same, though the use be opposite. It
appeareth also that logic differeth 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 opinions and manners. And therefore Aristotle doth
wisely place rhetoric as between logic on the one side, and moral
or civil knowledge 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 leese the volubility of
application; and therefore it shall not be amiss to recommend
this to better inquiry, not being curious whether we place it
here or in that part which concerneth policy.
(6) Now therefore will I descend to the deficiences, 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 comparative, which are as the sophisms of
rhetoric (as I touched before). For example—
“Sophisma.
Quod laudatur, bonum: quod vituperatur, malum.
Redargutio.
Laudat venales qui vult extrudere merces.”
Malum est, malum est (inquit emptor):
sed cum recesserit, tum gloriabitur! The
defects in the labour of Aristotle are three—one, that
there be but a few of many; another, that there elenches 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 impression, 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 it said,
“Your enemies will be glad of this”—
“Hoc Ithacus velit, et magno mercentur
Atridæ.”
than by hearing it said only, “This is evil for
you.”
(7) Secondly, I do resume also that which I mentioned before,
touching 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
formulæ.
(8) Antitheta 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 prolixity 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 skeins or bottoms of
thread, to be unwinded at large when they come to be used;
supplying authorities and examples by reference.
“Pro verbis
legis.
Non est interpretatio, sed divinatio, quæ recedit a
litera:
Cum receditur a litera, judex transit in legislatorem.
Pro sententia legis.
Ex omnibus verbis est eliciendus sensus qui interpretatur
singula.”
(9) Formulæ are but decent and apt passages or
conveyances of speech, which may serve indifferently for
differing subjects; as of preface, conclusion, digression,
transition, excusation, &c. 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 redeem the faults passed, and prevent the
inconveniences future.”
XIX. (1) 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 concerneth chiefly writing of
books, so the relative part thereof concerneth reading of books;
whereunto appertain incidently 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 Demissus est per
sportam, mended his book, and made it Demissus est per
portam; because sporta was a 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 resteth 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.
(2) For pedantical knowledge, it containeth that difference of
tradition which is proper for youth; whereunto appertain divers
considerations 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 and natures are most apt and 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
as there is a great judgment to be had in the continuance and
intermission of exercises. It were too long to
particularise 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
Cæsar, Blæsus 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, Blæsus, what is
done with his body? The mortalest enemies do not deny
burial. When I have performed my last 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.” With
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.
(3) But to return: we are now come to a period of rational
knowledges; wherein if I have made the divisions other than those
that are received, 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,
&c. 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 particular
knowledge, I would have respected the divisions fittest for
use. The other, because the bringing in of the deficiences
did by consequence alter the partitions of the rest. For
let the knowledge extant (for demonstration sake) be
fifteen. Let the knowledge with the deficiences be twenty;
the parts of fifteen are not the parts of twenty; for the 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.
XX. (1) 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 vitæ. 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 punishment, and
the like scattered glances and touches, that can excuse the
absence of this part.
(2) 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 ordinary and common matters, the judicious direction whereof
nevertheless is the wisest doctrine (for life consisteth not in
novelties nor subtleties), 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
disputatious, or to the eloquence of discourses. But Seneca
giveth an excellent check to eloquence, Nocet illis
eloquentia, quibus non rerum 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,
Quæ si feceritis, non oratorem dumtaxat in
præsentia laudabitis, sed vosmetipsos etiam non ita
multo post statu rerum vestraram meliore.
(3) 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 expressing of the observations of husbandry, as of the
heroical acts of Æneas:
“Nec sum animi dubius, verbis ea vincere
magnum
Quam sit, et angustis his addere rebus honorem.”
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 seemeth to be into the exemplar 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.
(4) The doctrine touching the platform or nature of good
considereth it either simple or compared; either the kinds of
good, or the degrees of good; in the latter whereof those
infinite disputatious which were touching the supreme degree
thereof, which they term felicity, beatitude, 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 may be 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.
(5) Freed therefore and delivered from this doctrine of the
philosopher’s heaven, whereby they feigned a higher
elevation of man’s nature than was (for we see in what
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 duty, with their situations and postures; in
distributing them into their kinds, parts, provinces, actions,
and administrations, and the like: nay further, 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, for the
degrees and comparative nature of good, they have also
excellently handled it in their triplicity of good, in the
comparisons 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
deserveth to be reported for excellently laboured.
(6) 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.
(7) 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 tendeth to the conservation of a more general
form. Therefore we see the iron in particular sympathy
moveth to the loadstone; but yet if it exceed a certain quantity,
it forsaketh the affection to the loadstone, and like a good
patriot moveth 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 purveyance for a famine at
Rome, and being dissuaded with great vehemency 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, Necesse est
ut eam, non ut vivam. But it may be truly
affirmed that there was never any philosophy, religion, or other
discipline, which did so plainly and highly exalt the good which
is communicative, 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
anathematised and razed out of the book of life, in an ecstasy of
charity and infinite feeling of communion.
(8) This being set down and strongly planted, doth judge and
determine most of the controversies wherein moral philosophy is
conversant. For first, it decideth 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 simple
contemplative, but performeth 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 Saint Jude
citeth. But for contemplation which should be finished in
itself, without casting beams upon society, assuredly divinity
knoweth it not.
(9) 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, which
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.
(10) 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 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. Whereunto the wisdom of that heavenly
leader hath signed, who hath affirmed that “a good
conscience is a continual feast;” showing plainly that the
conscience of good intentions, howsoever succeeding, is a more
continual joy to nature than all the provision which can be made
for security and repose.
(11) It censureth 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 and extinguish perturbations, but to fly and avoid the
causes of them, and to shape a particular kind and course of life
to that end; introducing such a 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
Diogenes’ opinion is to be accepted, who commended not them
which abstained, but them which sustained, and could refrain
their mind in præcipitio, and could give unto the
mind (as is used in horsemanship) the shortest stop or turn.
(12) Lastly, it censureth 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 telâ
crassiore, and not so fine as that everything should catch in
it and endanger it.
XXI. (1) 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 household terms of promus 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 seemeth to be the
worthier; for in nature the heavens, which are the more worthy,
are the agent, and the earth, which is the less worthy, is the
patient. In the pleasures of living creatures, that of
generation is greater than that of food. In divine
doctrine, beatius est dare quam accipere. And in
life, there is no man’s spirit so soft, but esteemeth 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 æstimamus mori
tardius, and ne glorieris de crastino, nescis
partum diei, it maketh us to desire to have somewhat secured
and exempted from time, which are only our deeds and works; as it
is said, Opera eorum sequuntur eos. The pre-eminence
likewise of this active good is upheld by the affection 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, ludus per hunc
circulum curritur; mori velle non tantum fortis,
aut miser, aut prudens, sed etiam fastidiosus
potest. But in enterprises, pursuits, and purposes of
life, there is much variety; whereof men are sensible with
pleasure in their inceptions, progressions, recoils,
reintegrations, approaches and attainings to their ends. So
as it was well said, Vita sine proposito languida et vaga
est. Neither hath this active good an identity with the
good of society, though in some cases 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 that
gigantine state of mind which possesseth the troublers of the
world, such as was Lucius Sylla and infinite other in smaller
model, who would have 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 theomachy), pretendeth
and aspireth to active good, though it recedeth furthest from
good of society, which we have determined to be the greater.
(2) To resume passive good, it receiveth a subdivision of
conservative and effective. 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 embraceth 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 preserving
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,
“Igneus est ollis vigor, et cælestis
origo.”
His approach or assumption to divine or angelical nature is
the perfection 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 mean 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.
(3) To resume the good of conservation or comfort, which
consisteth in the fruition of that which is agreeable to our
natures; it seemeth to be most pure and natural of pleasures, but
yet the softest and lowest. And this also receiveth a
difference, which hath neither been well judged of, nor well
inquired; for the good of fruition or contentment is placed
either in the sincereness 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 question controverted; but whether man’s nature may not
be capable of both is a question not inquired.
(4) 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 argument to ill words: the sophist saying that
Socrates’ 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
beareth a great part in felicity; and if so, certain it is, that
virtue hath more use in clearing perturbations then 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.
(5) But the second question, decided the true way, maketh the
former superfluous. For can it be doubted, but that there
are some who take more pleasure in enjoying pleasures than some
other, and yet, nevertheless, are less troubled with the loss or
leaving of them? So as this same, Non uti ut non
appetas, non appetere ut non metuas, sunt animi
pusilli et diffidentis. And it seemeth to me that most
of the doctrines of the philosophers are more fearful and
cautious 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 enemy, against whom there is no end of
preparing. Better saith the poet:—
“Qui finem vitæ extremum inter munera
ponat
Naturæ.”
So have they sought to make men’s minds too uniform and
harmonical, by not breaking them sufficiently to contrary
motions; the reasons 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 have show of many
changes, yet breaketh not 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 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.
(6) Having therefore deduced the good of man which is private
and particular, as far as seemeth fit, we will now return to that
good of man which respecteth 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 understand virtue without some relation to
society, nor duty without an inward disposition. This part
may seem at first to pertain to science civil and politic; but
not if it be well observed. For it concerneth the regiment
and government of every man over himself, and not over
others. And as in architecture the direction of 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, nevertheless, in expressing of the one you
incidently express the aptness towards the other; so the doctrine
of conjugation of men in society differeth from that of their
conformity thereunto.
(7) 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.
For 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 discovereth the hill;” 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 professions,
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.
(8) In which kind I cannot but mention, honoris causa,
your Majesty’s excellent 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 some opinion one
of the most sound and healthful writings that I have read: not
distempered in the heat of invention, nor in the coldness of
negligence; not sick of dizziness, as those are who leese
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, whereunto 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 leese 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 notwithstanding 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 presumed to
allege 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 Marcello, which is nothing but an excellent
table of Cæsar’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.
(9) But to return; there belongeth further 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 cometh 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: Quærenti derisori
scientiam ipsa se abscondit; sed studioso fit
obviam. But the managing of this argument with
integrity and truth, which I note as deficient, seemeth 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 they leese 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. For it is not possible to join
serpentine wisdom with the columbine innocency, 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 unfenced. 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 prudentiæ, nisi ea dixeris
quæ, versantur in corde ejus.
(10) 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 government and society, but as to the
framing of the mind of particular persons.
(11) The knowledge concerning good respecting society doth
handle it also, not simply alone, but comparatively; whereunto
belongeth the weighing of duties between person and person, case
and case, particular and public. As we see in the
proceeding of Lucius Brutus against his own sons, which was so
much extolled, yet what was said?
“Infelix, utcunque ferent ea fata
minores.”
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 a usurper, 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 comparative 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 injustice.
Which Jason of Thessalia determined against the truth: Aliqua
sunt injuste facienda, ut multa juste fieri
possint. But the reply is good: Auctorem
præsentis justitiæ habes, sponsorem
futuræ non habes. 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.
XXII. (1) 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 statue, which is beautiful to contemplate,
but is without life and motion; whereunto Aristotle himself
subscribeth in these words: Necesse est scilicet de virtute
dicere, et quid sit, et ex quibus
gignatur. Inutile enum fere fuerit virtutem quidem
nosse, acquirendæ autem ejus modos et vias
ignorare. Non enum de virtute tantum, qua
specie sit, quærendum est, sed et quomodo sui
copiam faciat: utrumque enum volumeus, et rem ipsam
nosse, et ejus compotes fieri: hoc autem ex voto
non succedet, nisi sciamus et ex quibus et
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, De partibus
vitæ quisque deliberat, de summa nemo), may make
this part seem superfluous; yet I must conclude with that
aphorism of Hippocrates, Qui gravi morbo correpti dolores non
sentiunt, iis mens ægrotat. They need
medicine, not only to assuage the disease, but to awake the
sense. And if it be said that the cure of men’s minds
belongeth 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 are left to the discretion of the
handmaid to discern of the mistress’ 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.
(2) 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 speech and 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
ourselves for reporting it deficient, which seemeth 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.
(3) 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 may be 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 are 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:—
“Vincenda est omnis fertuna
ferendo:”
and so likewise,
“Vincenda est omnis Natura
ferendo.”
But when that we speak of suffering, we do not speak of a dull
and neglected suffering, but of a wise and industrious suffering,
which draweth and contriveth use and advantage out of that which
seemeth adverse and contrary; which is that properly which we
call accommodating or applying. Now the wisdom of
application resteth principally 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.
(4) 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 are minds which
are proportioned to great matters, and others to small (which
Aristotle handleth, or ought to have bandied, by the name of
magnanimity), doth it not deserve as well to be considered that
there are minds proportioned 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 narrowness of mind, as well as
a pusillanimity. And again, that some minds are
proportioned to that which may be dispatched 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 tum tenditqus fovetque.”
So that there may be fitly said to be a longanimity, which is
commonly also ascribed to God as a magnanimity. So further
deserved it to be considered 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 soothe 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 suppeditation 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 change, 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 sensitive,
dry, formal, real, humorous, certain, huomo di prima
impressione, 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 posies to hold in our
hands, but no man bringeth them to the confectionary that
receipts might be made of them for use of life.
(5) Of much like kind are those impressions of Nature, which
are 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 extern fortune, as sovereignty, nobility, obscure
birth, riches, want, magistracy, privateness, prosperity,
adversity, constant fortune, variable fortune, rising per
saltum, per gradus, and the like. And,
therefore, we see that Plautus maketh it a wonder to see an old
man beneficent, benignitas hujis ut adolescentuli
est. Saint Paul concludeth that severity of discipline
was to be used to the Cretans, increpa eos dure, upon the
disposition of their country, Cretensus semper mendaces,
malæ bestiæ, ventres. Sallust
noteth that it is usual with kings to desire contradictories:
Sed plerumque regiæ voluntates, ut vehementes
sunt, sic mobiles, sæpeque ipsæ sibi
advers. Tacitus observeth how rarely raising of the
fortune mendeth the disposition: solus Vespasianus mutatus in
melius. Pindarus maketh an observation, that great and
sudden fortune for the most part defeateth men qui magnam
felicitatem concoquere non possunt. So the Psalm
showeth it is more easy to keep a measure in the enjoying of
fortune, than in the increase of fortune; Divitiæ si
affluant, nolite cor apponere. These
observations and the like I deny not but are touched a little by
Aristotle as in passage in his Rhetorics, and are handled in some
scattered discourses; but they were never incorporate into moral
philosophy, to which they do essentially appertain; as the
knowledge of this 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.
(6) 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 divers characters of men’s
natures, it followeth in order to know the diseases and
infirmities of the mind, which are no other than the
perturbations and distempars of the affections. For as the
ancient politiques 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 in the nature thereof
would be temperate and stayed, if the affections, as winds, did
not put it into tumult and perturbation. And here again I
find strange, as before, that Aristotle should have written
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 pretermitteth 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 travails, 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 subtlety of definitions (which in a subject of this
nature are 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 countenance, 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 further degree; how they disclose
themselves; how they work; how they vary; how they gather and
fortify: how they are enwrapped 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 used
to hunt beast with beast, and fly bird with bird, which otherwise
percase we could not so easily recover: upon which foundation is
erected that excellent use of præmium and
pæna, whereby civil states consist: employing the
predominant affections 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.
(7) 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, company, friends, praise, reproof,
exhortation, fame, laws, books, studies: these as they have
determinate use in moralities, from these the mind suffereth, and
of these are such receipts and regiments compounded 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.
(8) The opinion of Aristotle seemeth to me a negligent
opinion, that of those things which consist by Nature, nothing
can be changed by custom; 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 see or hear
the better. For though this principle be true in things
wherein Nature is peremptory (the reason whereof we cannot now
stand to discuss), yet it is otherwise in things wherein Nature
admitteth a latitude. For he might see that a strait 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
handleth, than those instances which he allegeth. 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 exercises of the mind, as there is of ordering the
exercises of the body, whereof we will recite a few.
(9) The first shall be, that we beware we take not at the
first either too high a strain or too weak: for if too high, in a
diffident nature you discourage, in a confident nature you breed
an opinion of facility, and so a sloth; and in all natures you
breed a further 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.
(10) 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 gain 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.
(11) Another precept is that which Aristotle mentioneth by the
way, which is to bear ever towards the contrary extreme of that
whereunto we are by nature inclined; like unto the rowing against
the stream, or making a wand straight by bending him contrary to
his natural crookedness.
(12) 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
agendo, 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.
(13) 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 vinum dæmonum, because it increaseth
temptations, perturbations, and vain opinions? Is not the
opinion of Aristotle worthy to be regarded, wherein he saith,
“That young men are 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 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
parasites’ coats fit to be scorned and derided), are 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, hic 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 so
it pleaseth Machiavel to say, “That if Cæsar had been
overthrown, he would have 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 moralities themselves (some kinds of them), lest
they make men too precise, arrogant, incompatible; as Cicero
saith of Cato, In Marco Catone hæc bona quæ
videmus divina et egregia, ipsius scitote esse
propria; quæ nonunquam requirimus ea 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.
(14) 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 at some times 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 de 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 a
handmaid to religion.
(15) 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 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 indeed is like
the work of nature; whereas the other course is like the work of
the hand. For as when a carver makes an image, he shapes
only that part whereupon he worketh; as if he be upon the face,
that part which shall be the body is but a rude stone still, till
such times as he comes to it. But contrariwise when nature
makes a flower or living creature, she formeth rudiments of all
the parts at one time. So in obtaining virtue by habit,
while a man practiseth temperance, he doth not profit much to
fortitude, nor the like but when he dedicateth 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 disposition 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 are these: Immanitati autem consentaneum est opponere
eam, quæ supra humanitatem est, heroicam sive
divinam virtutem; and a little after, Nam ut feræ
neque vitium neque virtus est, swic neque Dei: sed
hic quidem status altius quiddam virtute est, ille aluid
quiddam a vitio. And therefore we may see what
celsitude of honour Plinius Secundus attributeth to Trajan in his
funeral oration, where he said, “That men needed to make no
other prayers to the gods, but that they would continue 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 state 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
comprehendeth and fasteneth all virtues together. And as it
is elegantly said by Menander of vain love, which is but a false
imitation of divine love, Amor melior Sophista lœvo ad
humanam vitam—that love teacheth a man to carry himself
better than the sophist or preceptor; which he calleth
left-handed, because, with all his rules and preceptions, 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, further, as Xenophon observed truly, that all
other affections, though they raise the mind, yet they do it by
distorting and uncomeliness 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 excellences, though
they advance nature, yet they are subject to excess. Only
charity admitteth no excess. For so we see, 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; Eritis
sicut Dii, scientes bonum et malum: but by aspiring to
a similitude of God in goodness or love, neither man nor angel
ever transgressed, or shall transgress. For unto that
imitation we are called: Diligite inimicos vestros,
benefacite eis qui oderunt vos, et orate pro
persequentibus et calumniantibus vos, ut sitis filii
Patris vestri qui in cœlis est, qui solem suum oriri
facit super bonos et malos, et pluit super justos et
injustos. So in the first platform of the divine nature
itself, the heathen religion speaketh thus, Optimus
Maximus: and the sacred Scriptures thus, Miscericordia
ejus super omnia opera ejus.
(16) Wherefore I do conclude this part of moral knowledge,
concerning the culture and regiment of the mind; wherein if any
man, considering the arts 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 matter 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 geminæ somni portæ: quarum
altera fertur
Cornea, qua veris facilis datur exitus umbris:
Altera candenti perfecta nitens elephanto,
Sed falsa ad cœlum 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.
(17) But we have now concluded that general part of human
philosophy, which contemplateth man segregate, and as he
consisteth of body and spirit. Wherein we may further note,
that there seemeth 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, tendeth 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
stupid, but to retain pleasure; confined rather in the subject of
it, than in the strength and vigour of it.
XXIII. (1) Civil knowledge is conversant about a subject which
of all others is most immersed in matter, and hardliest reduced
to axiom. Nevertheless, as Cato the Censor said,
“That the Romans were like sheep, for that a man were
better drive a flock of them, than one of them; for in a flock,
if you could get but some few go right, the rest would
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
requireth only an external goodness; for that as to society
sufficeth. 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, Sed adhuc
poulus 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; but the resolution of
particular persons is more suddenly subverted. These
respects do somewhat qualify the extreme difficulty of civil
knowledge.
(2) This knowledge hath three parts, according to the three
summary actions of society; which are conversation, negotiation,
and government. For man seeketh in society comfort, use,
and protection; and they be three wisdoms of divers natures which
do often sever—wisdom of the behaviour, wisdom of business,
and wisdom of state.
(3) 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, Nec vultu destrue 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 habere
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 see Atticus, before the first
interview between Cæsar 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 conversation; the true model
whereof seemeth to me well expressed by Livy, though not meant
for this purpose: Ne aut arrogans videar, aut
obnoxius; quorum alterum est àlienæ
libertatis obliti, alterum suæ: 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 scenam in
vitam transferre—to act a man’s life? But
although it proceed not to that extreme, yet it consumeth time,
and employeth the mind too much. And therefore as we use to
advise young students from company keeping, by saying, Amici
fures temporis: 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, almost everything becometh; 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 decency,
which is time and season. For as Solomon saith, Qui
respicit ad ventos, non seminat; et qui respicit ad
nubes, non metet: 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.
(4) The wisdom touching negotiation or business hath not been
hitherto collected into writing, to the great derogation of
learning and the professors 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 are 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 of long experience
without learning, and outshoot them in their own bow.
(5) 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 were professors; for Cicero reporteth, that it was then in
use for senators that had name and opinion for general wise men,
as Coruncanius, Curius, Lælius, 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 causes, arising out of a universal insight
into the affairs of the world; which is used indeed upon
particular causes propounded, but is gathered by general
observation of causes 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 substance 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
Scriptures testify that his heart was as the sands of the sea,
encompassing the world and all worldly matters, we see, I say,
not a few profound and excellent cautions, precepts, positions,
extending to much variety of occasions; whereupon we will stay a
while, offering to consideration some number of examples.
(6) Sed et cunctis sermonibus qui dicuntur ne accommodes
aurem tuam, ne forte audias servum tuum maledicentem
tibi. Here is commended the provident stay of inquiry
of that which we would be loth to find: as it was judged great
wisdom in Pompeius Magnus that he burned Sertorius’ papers
unperused.
Vir sapiens, si cum stulto contenderit, sive
irascatur, sive rideat, non inveniet
requiem. Here is described the great disadvantage which
a wise man hath in undertaking a lighter person than himself;
which is such an engagement 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, postea
sentiet eum contumacem. Here is signified, that if a
man begin too high a pitch in his favours, it doth commonly end
in unkindness and unthankfulness.
Vidisti virum velocem in opere suo? coram regibus
stabit, nec erit 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 viventes qui ambulant sub sole, cum
adolescente secundo qui consurgit pro eo. Here is
expressed that which was noted by Sylla first, and after him by
Tiberius. Plures adorant solem orientem quam occidentem
vel meridianum.
Si spiritus potestatem habentis ascenderit super te,
locum tuum ne demiseris; quia curatio faciet cessare
peccata maxima. Here caution is given, that upon
displeasure, retiring is of all courses the unfittest; for a man
leaveth things at worst, and depriveth himself of means to make
them better.
Erat civitas parva, et pauci in ea viri:
venit contra eam rex magnus, et vallavit eam,
instruxitque munitones per gyrum, et perfecta est
obsidio; inventusque est in ea vir pauper et sapiens,
et liberavit eam per sapientiam suam; et nullus
deinceps recordatus est huminis illius pauperis. Here
the corruption of states is set forth, that esteem not virtue or
merit longer than they have use of it.
Millis responsio frangit iram. Here is noted that
silence or rough answer exasperateth; but an answer present and
temperate pacifieth.
Iter pigrorum quasi sepes spinarum. Here is
lively represented how laborious sloth proveth in the end; for
when things are deferred till the last instant, and nothing
prepared beforehand, every step findeth a briar or impediment,
which catcheth or stoppeth.
Melior est finis orationis quam principium. Here
is taxed the vanity of formal speakers, that study more about
prefaces and inducements, than upon the conclusions and issues of
speech.
Qui cognoscit in judicio faciem, non bene facit;
iste et pro buccella panis deseret veritatem. 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 pauperes simils est imbri
vehementi, in quo paratur fames. Here is
expressed the extremity of necessitous extortions, figured in the
ancient fable of the full and the hungry horseleech.
Fons turbatus pede, et vena corrupta, est
justus cadens 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 patre et a matre, et dicit
hoc non esse peccatum, particeps 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
turneth it from injury to impiety.
Noli esse amicus homini iracundo, nec 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 domum suam, possidebit
ventum. Here is noted, that in domestical separations
and breaches men do promise to themselves quieting of their mind
and contentment; but still they are deceived of their
expectation, and it turneth to wind.
Filius sapiens lætificat patrem: filius vero
stultus mæstitia est matri suæ. 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, quærit amicitiam;
sed qui altero sermone repetit, separat
fæderatos. Here caution is given, that
reconcilement is better managed by an amnesty, and passing over
that which is past, than by apologies and excuses.
In omni opere bono erit abundantia; ubi autem verba
sunt plurima, ibi frequenter egestas. Here is
noted, that words and discourse aboundeth most where there is
idleness and want.
Primus in sua causa justus: sed venit altera
pars, et inquiret in eum. Here is observed, that
in all causes the first tale possesseth much; in sort, that the
prejudice thereby wrought will be hardly removed, except some
abuse or falsity in the information be detected.
Verba bilinguis quasi simplicia, et ipsa perveniunt
ad interiora ventris. Here is distinguished, that
flattery and insinuation, which seemeth set and artificial,
sinketh not far; but that entereth deep which hath show of
nature, liberty, and simplicity.
Qui erudit derisorem, ipse sibi injuriam facit;
et qui arguit impium, sibi maculam generat.
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 sapienti 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 prospicientium,
sic corda hominum manifesta sunt prudentibus. 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 proceedeth that application,
“Qui sapit, innumeris moribus aptus
erit.”
(7) Thus have I stayed 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 others; but taking
them as instructions for life, they might have received large
discourse, if I would have broken them and illustrated them by
deducements and examples.
(8) 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 the form of writing which of all others is fittest for
this variable argument of negotiation and occasions is that which
Machiavel chose wisely and aptly for government; namely,
discourse 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 seemeth at first, but of substance.
For when the example is the ground, being set down in a 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
alleged 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.
(9) 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 histories of lives is the most
popular 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.
(10) But yet there is another part of this part, which
differeth as much from that whereof we have spoken as
sapere and sibi sapere, 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 pol sapiens
(saith the comical poet) fingit fortunam sibi; and it grew
to an adage, Faber quisque fortunæ propriæ;
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.
(11) This conceit or position, if it be too much declared and
professed, hath been thought a thing impolitic and unlucky, as
was observed in Timotheus the Athenian, who, having done many
great services to the state 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
is too high and too arrogant, savouring of that which Ezekiel
saith of Pharaoh, Dicis, Fluvius est neus et ego feci
memet ipsum; or of that which another prophet speaketh, that
men offer sacrifices to their nets and snares; and that which the
poet expresseth,
“Dextra mihi Deus, et telum quod missile
libro,
Nunc adsint!”
For these confidences were ever unhallowed, and unblessed;
and, therefore, those that were great politiques indeed ever
ascribed their successes to their felicity and not to their skill
or virtue. For so Sylla surnamed himself Felix, not
Magnus. So Cæsar said to the master of the ship,
Cæsarem portas et fortunam ejus.
(12) But yet, nevertheless, these positions, Faber quisque
fortunæ suæ: Sapiens dominabitur astris:
Invia virtuti null est via, and the like, being taken and
used as spurs to industry, and not as stirrups to insolency,
rather for resolution than for the presumption or outward
declaration, have been ever thought sound and good; and are no
question imprinted in the greatest minds, who are so sensible of
this opinion as they can scarce contain it within. As we
see in Augustus Cæsar (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 plaudite, as if he were
conscious 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.
(13) 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 see the difficulty: for fortune
layeth as heavy impositions as virtue; and it is as hard and
severe a thing to be a true politique, 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.
(14) 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 advantages, and whereby they chiefly stand, so again their
weaknesses and disadvantages, and where they lie most open and
obnoxious, their friends, factions, dependences; and again their
opposites, enviers, competitors, their moods and times, Sola
viri molles aditus et tempora noras; their principles, rules,
and observations, and the like: and this not only of persons but
of actions; what are on foot from time 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 without it also the knowledge of persons
is very erroneous: for men change with the actions; and whilst
they are in pursuit they are one, and when they return to their
nature they are another. These informations of particulars,
touching persons and actions, are as the minor propositions in
every active syllogism; for no excellency of observations (which
are as the major propositions) can suffice to ground a
conclusion, if there be error and mistaking in the minors.
(15) That this knowledge is possible, Solomon is our surety,
who saith, Consilium in corde viri tanquam aqua profunda;
sed vir prudens exhauriet illud. And although the
knowledge itself falleth not under precept because it is of
individuals, yet the instructions for the obtaining of it
may.
(16) We will begin, therefore, with this 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, Fronti nulla fides, which is
meant of a general outward behaviour, and not of the private and
subtle motions and labours of the countenance and gesture; which,
as Q. Cicero elegantly saith, is Animi janua, “the
gate of the mind.” None more close than Tiberius, and
yet Tacitus saith of Gallus, Etenim vultu 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 speciem adornatis verbis,
quam ut penitus sentire crederetur; but of Drusus thus:
Paucioribus sed intentior, et fida oratione; and in
another place, speaking of his character of speech when he did
anything that was gracious and popular, he saith, “That in
other things he was velut eluctantium verborum;” but
then again, solutius loquebatur quando subveniret.
So that there is no such artificer of dissimulation, nor no such
commanded countenance (vultus jussus), 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.
(17) 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 præstruit ut
majore emolumento fallat; and the Italian thinketh himself
upon the point to be bought and sold, when he is better used than
he was wont to be without manifest cause. For small
favours, they do but lull men to sleep, both as to caution and as
to industry; and are, as Demosthenes calleth them, Alimenta
socordiæ. 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 ejus præfecturas
et tribunatus largitur: wherein, under pretence to strengthen
him, he did desolate him, and won from him his dependents.
(18) 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 hæc raram occulti pectoris vocem
elicuere: correptamque Græco versu admonuit,
ideo lædi quia non regnaret. And, therefore,
the poet doth elegantly call passions tortures that urge men to
confess their secrets:—
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 weakness, they open themselves; specially if they be put to
it with a counter-dissimulation, according to the proverb of
Spain, Di mentira, y sacar as verdad: “Tell a
lie and find a truth.”
(19) As for the knowing of men which is at second hand from
reports: men’s weaknesses 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: Verior fama e domesticis emanat.
(20) But the soundest disclosing and expounding of men is by
their natures and ends, wherein the weakest sort of men are best
interpreted 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 lidger; 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
are: the Italian proverb being elegant, and for the most part
true:—
“Di danari, di senno, e di fede,
C’è ne manco che non credi.”
“There is commonly less money, less wisdom, and less
good faith than men do account upon.”
(21) But princes, upon a far other reason, are best
interpreted by their 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 maketh their hearts more inscrutable. Neither is it
sufficient 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 outstripped by
Petronius Turpilianus in Nero’s humours of pleasures,
metus ejus rimatur, he wrought upon Nero’s fears,
whereby he broke the other’s neck.
(22) But to all this part of inquiry the most compendious way
resteth in three things; the first, to have general acquaintance
and inwardness with those which have general acquaintance and
look most into the world; and specially 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-intelligenced 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 inviteth and 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 answereth to all the rest. But, above all
things, caution must be taken that men have a good stay and hold
of themselves, and that this much knowing do not draw on much
meddling; for nothing is more unfortunate than light and rash
intermeddling in many matters. So that this variety of
knowledge tendeth 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.
(23) The second precept concerning this knowledge is, for men
to take good information touching their own person, 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.
(24) 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.
(25) 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 differing and dissonant, then in the
whole course of their life to be 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 Cæsar lived ever in men’s eyes, which
Tacitus observeth, alia Tiberio morum via.
(26) 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.
(27) 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 Cæsar Julius did, who at first was an
orator or pleader; but when he saw the excellency of Cicero,
Hortensius, 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 towards a
civil and popular greatness, and transferred his designs to a
martial greatness.
(28) Fourthly, in the choice of their friends and dependents,
to proceed according to the composition of their own nature; as
we may see in Cæsar, all whose friends and followers were
men active and effectual, but not solemn, or of reputation.
(29) 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 seemeth 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.
(30) Next to the well understanding and discerning of a
man’s self, there followeth the well opening and revealing
a man’s self; wherein we see 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
politique of his time, Omnium quæ dixerat feceratque
arte quadam ostentator, which requireth indeed some art, lest
it turn tedious and arrogant; but yet so, as ostentation (though
it be to the first degree of vanity) seemeth to me rather a vice
in manners than in policy; for as it is said, Audacter
calumniare, semper aliquid hæret; so, except it
be in a ridiculous degree of deformity, Audacter te
vendita, semper aluquid hæret. 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 ingenious fashion; or at times when
it is mixed with some peril and unsafety (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 insolency; it
doth greatly add to reputation: and surely not a few solid
natures, that want this ventosity and cannot sail in the height
of the winds, are not without some prejudice and disadvantage by
their moderation.
(31) 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 embased under the just price,
which is done 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 induceth 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 insuetus rebus majoribus videaris, si hæc te res
parva sicuti magna delectat.
(32) But the covering of defects is of no less importance than
the valuing 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,
“Sæpe latet vitium proximitate
boni,”
and therefore whatsoever want a man hath, he must see that he
pretend 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 are but
industries and dissimulations. For confidence, it is the
last but the surest remedy—namely, to depress and seem to
despise whatsoever a man cannot attain; observing the good
principle of the merchants, who endeavour 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 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 dulceness, goodness, and facility of nature; but show some
sparkles of liberty, spirit, and edge. Which kind of
fortified carriage, with a ready rescussing of a man’s self
from scorns, is sometimes of necessity imposed upon men by
somewhat in their person or fortune; but it ever succeedeth with
good felicity.
(33) 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 manebat, neque idem decebat—men
are where they were, when occasions turn: and therefore to Cato,
whom Livy maketh such an architect of fortune, he addeth that he
had versatile ingenium. And thereof it cometh 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 vicious and enwrapped, 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 noted wisely how
Fabius Maximus would have been temporising 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
penetration in their judgment, that they do not discern when
things have a period, but come in too late after the occasion; as
Demosthenes compareth 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 lothness to lose labours passed, and a conceit
that they can bring about occasions to their ply; and yet in the
end, when they see 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 restiveness of mind proceedeth, it is a thing most
prejudicial; and nothing is more politic than to make the wheels
of our mind concentric and voluble with the wheels of
fortune.
(34) Another precept of this knowledge, which hath some
affinity with that we last spoke of, but with difference, is that
which is well expressed, Fatis accede deisque, 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 actions that which is most
passable: for this will preserve men from foil, not occupy them
too much about one matter, win opinion of moderation, please the
most, and make a show of a perpetual felicity in all they
undertake: which cannot but mightily increase reputation.
(35) 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 uttereth in high terms: Et
quemadmodum receptum est, ut exercitum ducat
imperator, sic et a cordatis viris res ipsæ
ducendæ; ut quæipsis videntur, ea
gerantur, et non ipsi eventus 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.
(36) 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
menées, when men set things in work without opening
themselves at all), be sometimes both prosperous and admirable;
yet many times dissimulatio errores parit, qui
dissimulatorem ipsum illaqueant. And therefore we see
the greatest politiques 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 Cæsar,
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
Cæsar) non recusat, sed quodammodo postulat,
ut (ut est) sic appelletur tyrannus.
So we may see in a letter of Cicero to Atticus, that Augustus
Cæsar, 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 Cæsar’s that was
erected in the 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
Cæsar’s designs: so tedious, casual, and unfortunate
are these deep dissimulations: whereof it seemeth Tacitus made
this judgment, 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 simulatione filii bene compostia: for surely
the continual habit of dissimulation is but a weak and sluggish
cunning, and not greatly politic.
(37) 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 are 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
comparison, 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 are 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 Cæsar saith in a
despising manner of Cato the second, when he describeth how
laborious and indefatigable he was to no great purpose,
Hæc omnia magno studio agebat. So in most
things men are ready to abuse themselves in thinking the greatest
means to be best, when it should be the fittest.
(38) 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 removal of the impediments of the mind will
sooner clear the passages of fortune than the obtaining fortune
will remove the impediments of the mind. In the second
place I set down wealth and means; which I know most men would
have placed first, because of the general use which it beareth
towards all variety of occasions. But that opinion I may
condemn with like reason as Machiavel 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 Crœsus 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 are the
sinews of fortune, but it is the sinews and steel of men’s
minds, wit, courage, audacity, resolution, temper, industry, and
the like. In the third place I set down reputation, because
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 when they should intend their beginnings, and do not take
things in order of time as they come on, but marshal them
according to greatness and not according to instance; not
observing the good precept, Quod nunc instat agamus.
(39) Another precept of this knowledge is not to embrace any
matters which do occupy too great a quantity of time, but to have
that sounding in a man’s ears, Sed 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 fortune, otherwise than in their ordinary
way, because they want time to learn particulars, to wait
occasions, and to devise plots.
(40) 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 principally 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 urgeth for the present;
and therefore men must be perfect in that rule, Hæc
oportet facere, et illa non imittere.
(41) 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?”
(42) Another precept of this knowledge is that ancient precept
of Bias, construed not to any point of perfidiousness, but to
caution and moderation, Et ama tanquam inimicus futurus et odi
tanquam amaturus. For it utterly betrayeth all utility
for men to embark themselves too far into unfortunate
friendships, troublesome spleens, and childish and humorous
envies or emulations.
(43) 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 more hardly made than a beginning. It
must be likewise conceived, that in these points which I mention
and set down, they are far from complete tractates of them, but
only as small pieces for patterns. And lastly, no man I
suppose will think that I mean fortunes are not obtained without
all this ado; for I know they come tumbling into some men’s
laps; and a number obtain good fortunes by diligence in a plain
way, little intermeddling, and keeping themselves from gross
errors.
(44) But as Cicero, when he setteth 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.
(45) 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 called Bonæ Artes. As for evil
arts, if a man would set down for himself that 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 straits,” which the
Italians call seminar spine, to sow thorns: or that other
principle, contained in the verse which Cicero citeth, Cadant
amici, dummodo inimici intercidant, 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 incendium, id non aqua sed
ruina restinguam: 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 dispensations 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.
(46) 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:
“Quæ vobis, quæ digna, viri pro
laudibus istis
Præmia 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, “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
tribute which we owe to God of our time; who (we see) demandeth 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 affigit humo
divinæ particulam auræ. And if any man
flatter himself that he will employ his fortune well, though he
should obtain it ill, as was said concerning Augustus
Cæsar, and after of Septimius Severus, “That either
they should never 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 compensations and satisfactions are good to be used,
but never good to be purposed. 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 V., in his instructions to the king his son,
“That fortune hath somewhat of the nature of a woman, that
if she he too much wooed she is the farther off.” 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 quærite. For divinity
saith, Primum quærite regnum Dei, et ista omnia
adjicientur vobis: and philosophy saith, Primum
quærite bona animi; cætera aut aderunt,
aut non oberunt. And although the human foundation
hath somewhat of the sands, as we see in M. Brutus, when he broke
forth into that speech,
“Te colui (Virtus) ut rem; ast tu nomen
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.
(47) 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 are obscure and invisible:
“Totamque infusa per
artus
Mens agitat molem, et magno se corpore miscet.”
Such is the description of governments. We see the
government of God over the world is hidden, insomuch as it
seemeth to participate of much irregularity and confusion.
The government of the soul in moving 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 offence of futility, as in
Sisyphus and Tantalus. But this was meant of particulars:
nevertheless even unto the general rules and discourses of policy
and government there is due a reverent and reserved handling.
(48) But contrariwise in the governors towards the governed,
all things ought as far as the frailty of man permitteth to be
manifest and revealed. For so it is expressed in the
Scriptures touching the government of God, that this globe, which
seemeth to us a dark and shady body, is in the view of God as
crystal: Et in conspectu sedis tanquam mare vitreum simile
crystallo. So unto princes and states, and specially
towards wise senates and councils, the natures and dispositions
of the people, 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 their station where they
keep sentinel, in great part clear and transparent.
Wherefore, considering that I write to a king that 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.”
(49) Notwithstanding, for the more public part of government,
which is laws, I think good to note only one deficiency; which
is, that all those which have written of laws have written either
as philosophers or as lawyers, and none as statesmen. As
for the philosophers, they make imaginary laws for imaginary
commonwealths, and their discourses are 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 are
in nature certain fountains of justice whence all civil laws are
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 uncertainty
of law; by what means laws may be made apt and easy to be
executed, and what are the impediments and remedies in the
execution of laws; what influence laws touching private right of
meum and tuum 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 are to be pruned and reformed from
time to time, and what is the best means to keep them from being
too vast in volume, or too full of multiplicity and 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 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 purpose (if God give me
leave), having begun a work of this nature in aphorisms, to
propound it hereafter, noting it in the meantime for
deficient.
(50) 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 nonhos quæsitum munus in usus;
it was not made for the countries which it governeth.
Hereof I cease to speak because I will not intermingle matter of
action with matter of general learning.
XXIV. Thus have I concluded this portion of learning
touching civil knowledge; and with civil knowledge have concluded
human philosophy; and with human philosophy, philosophy in
general. And being now at some pause, looking back into
that I have passed through, this writing seemeth 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 instruments, 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 instruments
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
travails of ancient writers; the art of printing, which
communicateth books to men of all fortunes; the openness of the
world by navigation, which hath disclosed 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 Græcia did, 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 phœnix may call whole volleys 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 Grecian 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 enterprise, 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 shall
please himself or others in the reprehension of them, they shall
make that ancient and patient request, Verbera, sed
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 further 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.
XXV. (1) The 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 reluctation in our will, so we are to believe
His word, though we find a reluctation in our reason. For
if we believe only that which is agreeable 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 discredited 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.
(2) Howbeit (if we will truly consider of 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 authorised than
itself and so suffereth from the worthier agent. Otherwise
it is of the state of man glorified; for then faith shall cease,
and we shall know as we are known.
(3) 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,
Cæli enarrant gloriam Dei; but it is not written,
Cæli enarrant voluntatem Dei: but of that it is
said, Ad legem et testimonium: si non fecerint secundum
verbum istud, &c. 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, Nec vox
hominem sonat: it is a voice beyond the light of
nature. So we see 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 remittit, invida jura negant. So said
Dendamis the Indian unto Alexander’s messengers, that he
had heard somewhat of Pythagoras, and some other of the wise men
of Græcia, and that he held them for excellent men: but
that they had a fault, which was that they had in too great
reverence and veneration a thing they called law and
manners. So it must be confessed that a great part of the
law moral is of that perfection whereunto 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: the one, that
which springeth from reason, sense, induction, argument,
according to the laws of heaven and earth; 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 not to be attained but by inspiration
and revelation from God.
(4) 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
specially 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 agent; and
the religion of Mahomet on the other side interdicteth 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.
(5) 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 themselves; 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 a 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 are examinable by induction, though not
by a medium or syllogism; and besides, those principles or first
positions have no discordance with that reason which draweth 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
advantage to win the game is artificial and rational. So in
human laws there be many grounds and maxims 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.
(6) Here therefore I note this deficiency, 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 pretext 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 senex? The other sort into the error
of the disciples, which were scandalised at a show of
contradiction, Quid est hoc quod dicit nobis?
Modicum et non videbitis me; et iterum,
modicum, et videbitis me, &c.
(7) 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 see
that many controversies do merely pertain to that which is either
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 style of that great doctor of the
Gentiles, would be carried thus, ego, non dominus;
and again, secundum consilium meum, in opinions and
counsels, and not in positions and oppositions. But men are
now over-ready to usurp the style, non ego, sed
dominus; 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.”
(8) 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 consisteth of three branches: the limits of the
information, the sufficiency of the information, 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 noted as deficient. Unto the
sufficiency of the information belong two considerations: what
points of religion are fundamental, and what perfective, being
matter of further building and perfection upon one and the same
foundation; and again, how the gradations of light according to
the dispensation of times are material to the sufficiency of
belief.
(9) Here again I may rather give it in advice than note it as
deficient, that the points fundamental, and the points of further
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 likely 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 see 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 seam, 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 ear, 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 mere aliens and disincorporate from
the Church of God.
(10) For the obtaining of the information, it resteth 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 excelleth 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 in 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.
(11) In this men have sought three things, a summary brevity,
a compacted 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 commonplaces and titles, which
grow to be more vast than the original writings, whence the sum
was at first extracted. So we see 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 the modern
doctors of the civil law exceed those of the ancient
jurisconsults, of which Tribonian 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 more base in substance.
(12) 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
are built more strong in their 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, the 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 are your positions.
(13) 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 sapientiæ et scientiæ Dei! quam
incomprehensibilia sunt juducua ejus, et non
investigabiles viæ 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 deducement from them, to handle the main body and
substance of a knowledge is in all sciences prejudicial, and in
divinity dangerous.
(14) As to the interpretation of the Scriptures solute and at
large, there have been divers kinds introduced and devised; some
of them rather curious and unsafe than sober and warranted.
Notwithstanding, thus much must be confessed, that the
Scriptures, being given by inspiration 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 are—the mysteries of
the kingdom 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 first 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.”
(15) From the former two of these 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: Videmus nunc per speculum in
ænigmate, tunc autem facie ad faciem; wherein
nevertheless there seemeth 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 overthrow of the spirit of man. For in
the body there are three degrees of that we receive into
it—aliment, medicine, and poison; whereof aliment is that
which the nature of man can perfectly alter and overcome;
medicine is that which is partly converted by nature, and partly
converteth nature; and poison is that which worketh wholly upon
nature, without 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 endangereth a
dissolution of the mind and understanding.
(16) 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; scandalising 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 give honour to
the Scriptures, as they suppose, but much embase them. For
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 philosophy 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 lavers, whose place
was 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 ornament or illustration sake, borrowed from nature or
history according to vulgar conceit, as of a basilisk, a 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 a noli
akryn sapere, sed time.
(17) But the two latter points, known to God and unknown to
man, touching the secrets of the heart and the successions of
time, doth 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 to 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 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, contradictions, 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 distributively in clauses and words, infinite
springs and streams of doctrine to water the Church in every
part. And therefore as the literal sense is, as it were,
the main stream or river, so the moral sense chiefly, 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.
(18) In this part touching the exposition of the Scriptures, I
can report no deficiency; but by way of remembrance this I will
add. In perusing books of divinity I find many books of
controversies, and many of commonplaces and treatises, a mass of
positive divinity, as it is made an art: a number of sermons and
lectures, and many prolix commentaries 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 commonplaces,
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 nowise in derogation of
antiquity, but as in a good emulation between the vine and the
olive, that if the choice and best of those observations upon
texts of Scriptures which have been made dispersedly in sermons
within this your Majesty’s Island of Brittany by the space
of these forty years and more (leaving out the largeness of
exhortations and applications thereupon) had been set down in a
continuance, it had been the best work in divinity which had been
written since the Apostles’ times.
(19) 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 pureness of heart, so they might
have external honour and rites.
(20) But out of these two do result and issue four main
branches of 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 conservation 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 are
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.
(21) 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 style, into
negative and affirmative, prohibitions and commandments.
Sin, in the matter and subject thereof, is divided according to
the commandments; in the form thereof it referreth 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 either moveth to the right hand or to the left;
either to blind devotion or to profane and libertine
transgression; either in imposing restraint where God granteth
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 quickeneth both these
doctrines of faith and manners is the elevation and consent of
the heart; whereunto appertain books of exhortation, holy
meditation, Christian resolution, and the like.
(22) 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 spiritu et veritate, there
remaineth only vituli labiorum; although the use of holy
vows of thankfulness and retribution may be accounted also as
sealed petitions.
(23) And for the government of the Church, it consisteth of
the patrimony 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 other how they stand compatible and
agreeable to the civil estate.
(24) This matter of divinity is handled either in form of
instruction of 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 teacheth us that they are
all of a nature, when there is once a receding from the Word of
God; for so he saith, Quasi peccatum ariolandi est
repugnare, et quasi scelus idololatriæ nolle
acquiescere.
(25) These things I have passed over so briefly because I can
report no deficiency concerning them: for I can find no space or
ground that lieth vacant and unsown in the matter of divinity, so
diligent have men been either 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
occupate, 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 in
melius, and not in aliud; a mind of amendment and
proficiency, 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 preoccupate the liberty of men’s judgments by
confutations. For in anything which is well set down, I am
in good hope that if the first reading 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 challenge to
myself as mine own. The good, it any be, is due tanquam
adeps sacrificii, to be incensed to the honour, first of the
Divine Majesty, and next of your Majesty, to whom on earth I am
most bounden.
