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Title: The Advancement of Learning

Author: Francis Bacon

Editor: Henry Morley

Release date: April 1, 2004 [eBook #5500]
Most recently updated: April 12, 2021

Language: English

Other information and formats: www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/5500

Credits: Transcribed from the 1893 Cassell & Company edition by
David Price, email ccx074@pglaf.org and Richard Tonsing

*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE
ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING ***

Transcribed from the 1893 Cassell & Company edition by David Price,
email ccx074@pglaf.org
Transcriber’s note: Changed “considering that the most barbarous, rude, and
unlearned times have been most subject to tumults, seditious, and changes”
to “considering that the most barbarous, rude, and unlearned times have
been most subject to tumults, seditions, and changes”.
CASSELL’S NATIONAL LIBRARY.

THE
Advancement
OF
Learning.

BY
FRANCIS BACON.

CASSELL & COMPANY, Limited:
LONDON, PARIS & MELBOURNE.

1893.

INTRODUCTION.

“The Tvvoo Bookes of Francis Bacon. Of the proficience and aduancement
of Learning, divine and humane. To the King. At London. Printed for
Henrie Tomes, and are to be sould at his shop at Graies Inne Gate in
Holborne. 1605.” That was the original title-page of the book now in the
reader’s hand—a living book that led the way to a new world of thought. It
was the book in which Bacon, early in the reign of James the First, prepared
the way for a full setting forth of his New Organon, or instrument of
knowledge.
The Organon of Aristotle was a set of treatises in which Aristotle had
written the doctrine of propositions. Study of these treatises was a chief
occupation of young men when they passed from school to college, and
proceeded from Grammar to Logic, the second of the Seven Sciences.
Francis Bacon as a youth of sixteen, at Trinity College, Cambridge, felt the
unfruitfulness of this method of search after truth. He was the son of Sir
Nicholas Bacon, Queen Elizabeth’s Lord Keeper, and was born at York
House, in the Strand, on the 22nd of January, 1561. His mother was the
Lord Keeper’s second wife, one of two sisters, of whom the other married
Sir William Cecil, afterwards Lord Burleigh. Sir Nicholas Bacon had six
children by his former marriage, and by his second wife two sons, Antony
and Francis, of whom Antony was about two years the elder. The family
home was at York Place, and at Gorhambury, near St. Albans, from which
town, in its ancient and its modern style, Bacon afterwards took his titles of
Verulam and St. Albans.
Antony and Francis Bacon went together to Trinity College, Cambridge,
when Antony was fourteen years old and Francis twelve. Francis remained
at Cambridge only until his sixteenth year; and Dr. Rawley, his chaplain in
after-years, reports of him that “whilst he was commorant in the University,
about sixteen years of age (as his lordship hath been pleased to impart unto

myself), he first fell into dislike of the philosophy of Aristotle; not for the
worthlessness of the author, to whom he would ascribe all high attributes,
but for the unfruitfulness of the way, being a philosophy (as his lordship
used to say) only strong for disputatious and contentions, but barren of the
production of works for the benefit of the life of man; in which mind he
continued to his dying day.” Bacon was sent as a youth of sixteen to Paris
with the ambassador Sir Amyas Paulet, to begin his training for the public
service; but his father’s death, in February, 1579, before he had completed
the provision he was making for his youngest children, obliged him to
return to London, and, at the age of eighteen, to settle down at Gray’s Inn to
the study of law as a profession. He was admitted to the outer bar in June,
1582, and about that time, at the age of twenty-one, wrote a sketch of his
conception of a New Organon that should lead man to more fruitful
knowledge, in a little Latin tract, which he called “Temporis Partus
Maximus” (“The Greatest Birth of Time”).
In November, 1584, Bacon took his seat in the House of Commons as
member for Melcombe Regis, in Dorsetshire. In October, 1586, he sat for
Taunton. He was member afterwards for Liverpool; and he was one of
those who petitioned for the speedy execution of Mary Queen of Scots. In
October, 1589, he obtained the reversion of the office of Clerk of the
Council in the Star Chamber, which was worth £1,600 or £2,000 a year; but
for the succession to this office he had to wait until 1608. It had not yet
fallen to him when he wrote his “Two Books of the Advancement of
Learning.” In the Parliament that met in February, 1593, Bacon sat as
member for Middlesex. He raised difficulties of procedure in the way of
the grant of a treble subsidy, by just objection to the joining of the Lords
with the Commons in a money grant, and a desire to extend the time
allowed for payment from three years to six; it was, in fact, extended to four
years. The Queen was offended. Francis Bacon and his brother Antony had
attached themselves to the young Earl of Essex, who was their friend and
patron. The office of Attorney-General became vacant. Essex asked the
Queen to appoint Francis Bacon. The Queen gave the office to Sir Edward
Coke, who was already Solicitor-General, and by nine years Bacon’s senior.
The office of Solicitor-General thus became vacant, and that was sought for
Francis Bacon. The Queen, after delay and hesitation, gave it, in
November, 1595, to Serjeant Fleming. The Earl of Essex consoled his

friend by giving him “a piece of land”—Twickenham Park—which Bacon
afterwards sold for £1,800—equal, say, to £12,000 in present buying
power. In 1597 Bacon was returned to Parliament as member for Ipswich,
and in that year he was hoping to marry the rich widow of Sir William
Hatton, Essex helping; but the lady married, in the next year, Sir Edward
Coke. It was in 1597 that Bacon published the First Edition of his Essays.
That was a little book containing only ten essays in English, with twelve
“Meditationes Sacræ,” which were essays in Latin on religious subjects.
From 1597 onward to the end of his life, Bacon’s Essays were subject to
continuous addition and revision. The author’s Second Edition, in which
the number of the Essays was increased from ten to thirty-eight, did not
appear until November or December, 1612, seven years later than these two
books on the “Advancement of Learning;” and the final edition of the
Essays, in which their number was increased from thirty-eight to fifty-eight,
appeared only in 1625; and Bacon died on the 9th of April, 1626. The
edition of the Essays published in 1597, under Elizabeth, marked only the
beginning of a course of thought that afterwards flowed in one stream with
his teachings in philosophy.
In February, 1601, there was the rebellion of Essex. Francis Bacon had
separated himself from his patron after giving him advice that was
disregarded. Bacon, now Queen’s Counsel, not only appeared against his
old friend, but with excess of zeal, by which, perhaps, he hoped to win back
the Queen’s favour, he twice obtruded violent attacks upon Essex when he
was not called upon to speak. On the 25th of February, 1601, Essex was
beheaded. The genius of Bacon was next employed to justify that act by “A
Declaration of the Practices and Treasons attempted and committed by
Robert late Earle of Essex and his Complices.” But James of Scotland, on
whose behalf Essex had intervened, came to the throne by the death of
Elizabeth on the 24th of March, 1603. Bacon was among the crowd of men
who were made knights by James I., and he had to justify himself under the
new order of things by writing “Sir Francis Bacon his Apologie in certain
Imputations concerning the late Earle of Essex.” He was returned to the
first Parliament of James I. by Ipswich and St. Albans, and he was
confirmed in his office of King’s Counsel in August, 1604; but he was not
appointed to the office of Solicitor-General when it became vacant in that
year.

That was the position of Francis Bacon in 1605, when he published this
work, where in his First Book he pointed out the discredits of learning from
human defects of the learned, and emptiness of many of the studies chosen,
or the way of dealing with them. This came, he said, especially by the
mistaking or misplacing of the last or furthest end of knowledge, as if there
were sought in it “a couch whereupon to rest a searching and restless spirit;
or a terrace for a wandering and variable mind to walk up and down with a
fair prospect; or a tower of state for a proud mind to raise itself upon; or a
fort or commanding ground for strife and contention; or a shop for profit or
sale; and not a rich storehouse for the glory of the Creator and the relief of
man’s estate.” The rest of the First Book was given to an argument upon
the Dignity of Learning; and the Second Book, on the Advancement of
Learning, is, as Bacon himself described it, “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.”
Bacon makes, by a sort of exhaustive analysis, a ground-plan of all subjects
of study, as an intellectual map, helping the right inquirer in his search for
the right path. The right path is that by which he has the best chance of
adding to the stock of knowledge in the world something worth labouring
for; and the true worth is in labour for “the glory of the Creator and the
relief of man’s estate.”
H. M.

THE
FIRST BOOK OF FRANCIS BACON;
OF THE PROFICIENCE AND
ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING,
DIVINE AND HUMAN.

To the King.
There were under the law, excellent King, both daily sacrifices and freewill
offerings; the one proceeding upon ordinary observance, the other upon a
devout cheerfulness: in like manner there belongeth to kings from their
servants both tribute of duty and presents of affection. In the former of
these I hope I shall not live to be wanting, according to my most humble
duty and the good pleasure of your Majesty’s employments: for the latter, I
thought it more respective to make choice of some oblation which might
rather refer to the propriety and excellency of your individual person, than
to the business of your crown and state.
Wherefore, representing your Majesty many times unto my mind, and
beholding you not with the inquisitive eye of presumption, to discover that
which the Scripture telleth me is inscrutable, but with the observant eye of
duty and admiration, leaving aside the other parts of your virtue and
fortune, I have been touched—yea, and possessed—with an extreme
wonder at those your virtues and faculties, which the philosophers call
intellectual; the largeness of your capacity, the faithfulness of your memory,
the swiftness of your apprehension, the penetration of your judgment, and
the facility and order of your elocution: and I have often thought that of all
the persons living that I have known, your Majesty were the best instance to
make a man of Plato’s opinion, that all knowledge is but remembrance, and
that the mind of man by Nature knoweth all things, and hath but her own

native and original notions (which by the strangeness and darkness of this
tabernacle of the body are sequestered) again revived and restored: such a
light of Nature I have observed in your Majesty, and such a readiness to
take flame and blaze from the least occasion presented, or the least spark of
another’s knowledge delivered. And as the Scripture saith of the wisest
king, “That his heart was as the sands of the sea;” which, though it be one
of the largest bodies, yet it consisteth of the smallest and finest portions; so
hath God given your Majesty a composition of understanding admirable,
being able to compass and comprehend the greatest matters, and
nevertheless to touch and apprehend the least; whereas it should seem an
impossibility in Nature for the same instrument to make itself fit for great
and small works. And for your gift of speech, I call to mind what Cornelius
Tacitus saith of Augustus Cæsar: Augusto profluens, et quæ principem
deceret, eloquentia fuit. For if we note it well, speech that is uttered with
labour and difficulty, or speech that savoureth of the affectation of art and
precepts, or speech that is framed after the imitation of some pattern of
eloquence, though never so excellent; all this hath somewhat servile, and
holding of the subject. But your Majesty’s manner of speech is, indeed,
prince-like, flowing as from a fountain, and yet streaming and branching
itself into Nature’s order, full of facility and felicity, imitating none, and
inimitable by any. And as in your civil estate there appeareth to be an
emulation and contention of your Majesty’s virtue with your fortune; a
virtuous disposition with a fortunate regiment; a virtuous expectation (when
time was) of your greater fortune, with a prosperous possession thereof in
the due time; a virtuous observation of the laws of marriage, with most
blessed and happy fruit of marriage; a virtuous and most Christian desire of
peace, with a fortunate inclination in your neighbour princes thereunto: so
likewise in these intellectual matters there seemeth to be no less contention
between the excellency of your Majesty’s gifts of Nature and the
universality and perfection of your learning. For I am well assured that this
which I shall say is no amplification at all, but a positive and measured
truth; which is, that there hath not been since Christ’s time any king or
temporal monarch which hath been so learned in all literature and erudition,
divine and human. For let a man seriously and diligently revolve and
peruse the succession of the Emperors of Rome, of which Cæsar the
Dictator (who lived some years before Christ) and Marcus Antoninus were
the best learned, and so descend to the Emperors of Græcia, or of the West,

and then to the lines of France, Spain, England, Scotland, and the rest, and
he shall find this judgment is truly made. For it seemeth much in a king if,
by the compendious extractions of other men’s wits and labours, he can take
hold of any superficial ornaments and shows of learning, or if he
countenance and prefer learning and learned men; but to drink, indeed, of
the true fountains of learning—nay, to have such a fountain of learning in
himself, in a king, and in a king born—is almost a miracle. And the more,
because there is met in your Majesty a rare conjunction, as well of divine
and sacred literature as of profane and human; so as your Majesty standeth
invested of that triplicity, which in great veneration was ascribed to the
ancient Hermes: the power and fortune of a king, the knowledge and
illumination of a priest, and the learning and universality of a philosopher.
This propriety inherent and individual attribute in your Majesty deserveth to
be expressed not only in the fame and admiration of the present time, nor in
the history or tradition of the ages succeeding, but also in some solid work,
fixed memorial, and immortal monument, bearing a character or signature
both of the power of a king and the difference and perfection of such a king.
Therefore I did conclude with myself that I could not make unto your
Majesty a better oblation than of some treatise tending to that end, whereof
the sum will consist of these two parts: the former concerning the
excellency of learning and knowledge, and the excellency of the merit and
true glory in the augmentation and propagation thereof; the latter, what the
particular acts and works are which have been embraced and undertaken for
the advancement of learning; and again, what defects and undervalues I find
in such particular acts: to the end that though I cannot positively or
affirmatively advise your Majesty, or propound unto you framed particulars,
yet I may excite your princely cogitations to visit the excellent treasure of
your own mind, and thence to extract particulars for this purpose agreeable
to your magnanimity and wisdom.
I. (1) In the entrance to the former of these—to clear the way and, as it
were, to make silence, to have the true testimonies concerning the dignity of
learning to be better heard, without the interruption of tacit objections—I
think good to deliver it from the discredits and disgraces which it hath
received, all from ignorance, but ignorance severally disguised; appearing
sometimes in the zeal and jealousy of divines, sometimes in the severity and

arrogancy of politics, and sometimes in the errors and imperfections of
learned men themselves.
(2) I hear the former sort say that knowledge is of those things which are to
be accepted of with great limitation and caution; that the aspiring to
overmuch knowledge was the original temptation and sin whereupon
ensued the fall of man; that knowledge hath in it somewhat of the serpent,
and, therefore, where it entereth into a man it makes him swell; Scientia
inflat; that Solomon gives a censure, “That there is no end of making books,
and that much reading is weariness of the flesh;” and again in another place,
“That in spacious knowledge there is much contristation, and that he that
increaseth knowledge increaseth anxiety;” that Saint Paul gives a caveat,
“That we be not spoiled through vain philosophy;” that experience
demonstrates how learned men have been arch-heretics, how learned times
have been inclined to atheism, and how the contemplation of second causes
doth derogate from our dependence upon God, who is the first cause.
(3) To discover, then, the ignorance and error of this opinion, and the
misunderstanding in the grounds thereof, it may well appear these men do
not observe or consider that it was not the pure knowledge of Nature and
universality, a knowledge by the light whereof man did give names unto
other creatures in Paradise as they were brought before him according unto
their proprieties, which gave the occasion to the fall; but it was the proud
knowledge of good and evil, with an intent in man to give law unto himself,
and to depend no more upon God’s commandments, which was the form of
the temptation. Neither is it any quantity of knowledge, how great soever,
that can make the mind of man to swell; for nothing can fill, much less
extend the soul of man, but God and the contemplation of God; and,
therefore, Solomon, speaking of the two principal senses of inquisition, the
eye and the ear, affirmeth that the eye is never satisfied with seeing, nor the
ear with hearing; and if there be no fulness, then is the continent greater
than the content: so of knowledge itself and the mind of man, whereto the
senses are but reporters, he defineth likewise in these words, placed after
that calendar or ephemerides which he maketh of the diversities of times
and seasons for all actions and purposes, and concludeth thus: “God hath
made all things beautiful, or decent, in the true return of their seasons. Also
He hath placed the world in man’s heart, yet cannot man find out the work
which God worketh from the beginning to the end”—declaring not

obscurely that God hath framed the mind of man as a mirror or glass,
capable of the image of the universal world, and joyful to receive the
impression thereof, as the eye joyeth to receive light; and not only delighted
in beholding the variety of things and vicissitude of times, but raised also to
find out and discern the ordinances and decrees which throughout all those
changes are infallibly observed. And although he doth insinuate that the
supreme or summary law of Nature (which he calleth “the work which God
worketh from the beginning to the end”) is not possible to be found out by
man, yet that doth not derogate from the capacity of the mind; but may be
referred to the impediments, as of shortness of life, ill conjunction of
labours, ill tradition of knowledge over from hand to hand, and many other
inconveniences, whereunto the condition of man is subject. For that
nothing parcel of the world is denied to man’s inquiry and invention, he
doth in another place rule over, when he saith, “The spirit of man is as the
lamp of God, wherewith He searcheth the inwardness of all secrets.” If,
then, such be the capacity and receipt of the mind of man, it is manifest that
there is no danger at all in the proportion or quantity of knowledge, how
large soever, lest it should make it swell or out-compass itself; no, but it is
merely the quality of knowledge, which, be it in quantity more or less, if it
be taken without the true corrective thereof, hath in it some nature of venom
or malignity, and some effects of that venom, which is ventosity or
swelling. This corrective spice, the mixture whereof maketh knowledge so
sovereign, is charity, which the Apostle immediately addeth to the former
clause; for so he saith, “Knowledge bloweth up, but charity buildeth up;”
not unlike unto that which he deilvereth in another place: “If I spake,” saith
he, “with the tongues of men and angels, and had not charity, it were but as
a tinkling cymbal.” Not but that it is an excellent thing to speak with the
tongues of men and angels, but because, if it be severed from charity, and
not referred to the good of men and mankind, it hath rather a sounding and
unworthy glory than a meriting and substantial virtue. And as for that
censure of Solomon concerning the excess of writing and reading books,
and the anxiety of spirit which redoundeth from knowledge, and that
admonition of St. Paul, “That we be not seduced by vain philosophy,” let
those places be rightly understood; and they do, indeed, excellently set forth
the true bounds and limitations whereby human knowledge is confined and
circumscribed, and yet without any such contracting or coarctation, but that
it may comprehend all the universal nature of things; for these limitations

are three: the first, “That we do not so place our felicity in knowledge, as
we forget our mortality;” the second, “That we make application of our
knowledge, to give ourselves repose and contentment, and not distaste or
repining;” the third, “That we do not presume by the contemplation of
Nature to attain to the mysteries of God.” For as touching the first of these,
Solomon doth excellently expound himself in another place of the same
book, where he saith: “I saw well that knowledge recedeth as far from
ignorance as light doth from darkness; and that the wise man’s eyes keep
watch in his head, whereas this fool roundeth about in darkness: but withal I
learned that the same mortality involveth them both.” And for the second,
certain it is there is no vexation or anxiety of mind which resulteth from
knowledge otherwise than merely by accident; for all knowledge and
wonder (which is the seed of knowledge) is an impression of pleasure in
itself; but when men fall to framing conclusions out of their knowledge,
applying it to their particular, and ministering to themselves thereby weak
fears or vast desires, there groweth that carefulness and trouble of mind
which is spoken of; for then knowledge is no more Lumen siccum, whereof
Heraclitus the profound said, Lumen siccum optima anima; but it becometh
Lumen madidum, or maceratum, being steeped and infused in the humours
of the affections. And as for the third point, it deserveth to be a little stood
upon, and not to be lightly passed over; for if any man shall think by view
and inquiry into these sensible and material things to attain that light,
whereby he may reveal unto himself the nature or will of God, then, indeed,
is he spoiled by vain philosophy; for the contemplation of God’s creatures
and works produceth (having regard to the works and creatures themselves)
knowledge, but having regard to God no perfect knowledge, but wonder,
which is broken knowledge. And, therefore, it was most aptly said by one
of Plato’s school, “That the sense of man carrieth a resemblance with the
sun, which (as we see) openeth and revealeth all the terrestrial globe; but
then, again, it obscureth and concealeth the stars and celestial globe: so doth
the sense discover natural things, but it darkeneth and shutteth up divine.”
And hence it is true that it hath proceeded, that divers great learned men
have been heretical, whilst they have sought to fly up to the secrets of the
Deity by this waxen wings of the senses. And as for the conceit that too
much knowledge should incline a man to atheism, and that the ignorance of
second causes should make a more devout dependence upon God, which is
the first cause; first, it is good to ask the question which Job asked of his

friends: “Will you lie for God, as one man will lie for another, to gratify
him?” For certain it is that God worketh nothing in Nature but by second
causes; and if they would have it otherwise believed, it is mere imposture,
as it were in favour towards God, and nothing else but to offer to the Author
of truth the unclean sacrifice of a lie. But further, it is an assured truth, and
a conclusion of experience, that a little or superficial knowledge of
philosophy may incline the mind of men to atheism, but a further
proceeding therein doth bring the mind back again to religion. For in the
entrance of philosophy, when the second causes, which are next unto the
senses, do offer themselves to the mind of man, if it dwell and stay there it
may induce some oblivion of the highest cause; but when a man passeth on
further and seeth the dependence of causes and the works of Providence;
then, according to the allegory of the poets, he will easily believe that the
highest link of Nature’s chain must needs he tied to the foot of Jupiter’s
chair. To conclude, therefore, let no man upon a weak conceit of sobriety or
an ill-applied moderation think or maintain that a man can search too far, or
be too well studied in the book of God’s word, or in the book of God’s
works, divinity or philosophy; but rather let men endeavour an endless
progress or proficience in both; only let men beware that they apply both to
charity, and not to swelling; to use, and not to ostentation; and again, that
they do not unwisely mingle or confound these learnings together.
II. (1) And as for the disgraces which learning receiveth from politics, they
be of this nature: that learning doth soften men’s minds, and makes them
more unapt for the honour and exercise of arms; that it doth mar and pervert
men’s dispositions for matter of government and policy, in making them too
curious and irresolute by variety of reading, or too peremptory or positive
by strictness of rules and axioms, or too immoderate and overweening by
reason of the greatness of examples, or too incompatible and differing from
the times by reason of the dissimilitude of examples; or at least, that it doth
divert men’s travails from action and business, and bringeth them to a love
of leisure and privateness; and that it doth bring into states a relaxation of
discipline, whilst every man is more ready to argue than to obey and
execute. Out of this conceit Cato, surnamed the Censor, one of the wisest
men indeed that ever lived, when Carneades the philosopher came in
embassage to Rome, and that the young men of Rome began to flock about
him, being allured with the sweetness and majesty of his eloquence and

learning, gave counsel in open senate that they should give him his despatch
with all speed, lest he should infect and enchant the minds and affections of
the youth, and at unawares bring in an alteration of the manners and
customs of the state. Out of the same conceit or humour did Virgil, turning
his pen to the advantage of his country and the disadvantage of his own
profession, make a kind of separation between policy and government, and
between arts and sciences, in the verses so much renowned, attributing and
challenging the one to the Romans, and leaving and yielding the other to the
Grecians: Tu regere imperio popules, Romane, memento, Hæ tibi erunt
artes, &c. So likewise we see that Anytus, the accuser of Socrates, laid it as
an article of charge and accusation against him, that he did, with the variety
and power of his discourses and disputatious, withdraw young men from
due reverence to the laws and customs of their country, and that he did
profess a dangerous and pernicious science, which was to make the worse
matter seem the better, and to suppress truth by force of eloquence and
speech.
(2) But these and the like imputations have rather a countenance of gravity
than any ground of justice: for experience doth warrant that, both in persons
and in times, there hath been a meeting and concurrence in learning and
arms, flourishing and excelling in the same men and the same ages. For as
‘for men, there cannot be a better nor the hike instance as of that pair,
Alexander the Great and Julius Cæsar, the Dictator; whereof the one was
Aristotle’s scholar in philosophy, and the other was Cicero’s rival in
eloquence; or if any man had rather call for scholars that were great
generals, than generals that were great scholars, let him take Epaminondas
the Theban, or Xenophon the Athenian; whereof the one was the first that
abated the power of Sparta, and the other was the first that made way to the
overthrow of the monarchy of Persia. And this concurrence is yet more
visible in times than in persons, by how much an age is greater object than a
man. For both in Egypt, Assyria, Persia, Græcia, and Rome, the same times
that are most renowned for arms are, likewise, most admired for learning,
so that the greatest authors and philosophers, and the greatest captains and
governors, have lived in the same ages. Neither can it otherwise he: for as
in man the ripeness of strength of the body and mind cometh much about an
age, save that the strength of the body cometh somewhat the more early, so

in states, arms and learning, whereof the one correspondeth to the body, the
other to the soul of man, have a concurrence or near sequence in times.
(3) And for matter of policy and government, that learning, should rather
hurt, than enable thereunto, is a thing very improbable; we see it is
accounted an error to commit a natural body to empiric physicians, which
commonly have a few pleasing receipts whereupon they are confident and
adventurous, but know neither the causes of diseases, nor the complexions
of patients, nor peril of accidents, nor the true method of cures; we see it is
a like error to rely upon advocates or lawyers which are only men of
practice, and not grounded in their books, who are many times easily
surprised when matter falleth out besides their experience, to the prejudice
of the causes they handle: so by like reason it cannot be but a matter of
doubtful consequence if states be managed by empiric statesmen, not well
mingled with men grounded in learning. But contrariwise, it is almost
without instance contradictory that ever any government was disastrous that
was in the hands of learned governors. For howsoever it hath been ordinary
with politic men to extenuate and disable learned men by the names of
pedantes; yet in the records of time it appeareth in many particulars that the
governments of princes in minority (notwithstanding the infinite
disadvantage of that kind of state)—have nevertheless excelled the
government of princes of mature age, even for that reason which they seek
to traduce, which is that by that occasion the state hath been in the hands of
pedantes: for so was the state of Rome for the first five years, which are so
much magnified, during the minority of Nero, in the hands of Seneca, a
pedenti; so it was again, for ten years’ space or more, during the minority of
Gordianus the younger, with great applause and contentation in the hands of
Misitheus, a pedanti: so was it before that, in the minority of Alexander
Severus, in like happiness, in hands not much unlike, by reason of the rule
of the women, who were aided by the teachers and preceptors. Nay, let a
man look into the government of the Bishops of Rome, as by name, into the
government of Pius Quintus and Sextus Quintus in our times, who were
both at their entrance esteemed but as pedantical friars, and he shall find
that such Popes do greater things, and proceed upon truer principles of
state, than those which have ascended to the papacy from an education and
breeding in affairs of state and courts of princes; for although men bred in
learning are perhaps to seek in points of convenience and accommodating

for the present, which the Italians call ragioni di stato, whereof the same
Pius Quintus could not hear spoken with patience, terming them inventions
against religion and the moral virtues; yet on the other side, to recompense
that, they are perfect in those same plain grounds of religion, justice,
honour, and moral virtue, which if they be well and watchfully pursued,
there will be seldom use of those other, no more than of physic in a sound
or well-dieted body. Neither can the experience of one man’s life furnish
examples and precedents for the event of one man’s life. For as it
happeneth sometimes that the grandchild, or other descendant, resembleth
the ancestor more than the son; so many times occurrences of present times
may sort better with ancient examples than with those of the later or
immediate times; and lastly, the wit of one man can no more countervail
learning than one man’s means can hold way with a common purse.
(4) And as for those particular seducements or indispositions of the mind
for policy and government, which learning is pretended to insinuate; if it be
granted that any such thing be, it must be remembered withal that learning
ministereth in every of them greater strength of medicine or remedy than it
offereth cause of indisposition or infirmity. For if by a secret operation it
make men perplexed and irresolute, on the other side by plain precept it
teacheth them when and upon what ground to resolve; yea, and how to
carry things in suspense, without prejudice, till they resolve. If it make men
positive and regular, it teacheth them what things are in their nature
demonstrative, and what are conjectural, and as well the use of distinctions
and exceptions, as the latitude of principles and rules. If it mislead by
disproportion or dissimilitude of examples, it teacheth men the force of
circumstances, the errors of comparisons, and all the cautions of
application; so that in all these it doth rectify more effectually than it can
pervert. And these medicines it conveyeth into men’s minds much more
forcibly by the quickness and penetration of examples. For let a man look
into the errors of Clement VII., so lively described by Guicciardini, who
served under him, or into the errors of Cicero, painted out by his own pencil
in his Epistles to Atticus, and he will fly apace from being irresolute. Let
him look into the errors of Phocion, and he will beware how he be obstinate
or inflexible. Let him but read the fable of Ixion, and it will hold him from
being vaporous or imaginative. Let him look into the errors of Cato II., and

he will never be one of the Antipodes, to tread opposite to the present
world.
(5) And for the conceit that learning should dispose men to leisure and
privateness, and make men slothful: it were a strange thing if that which
accustometh the mind to a perpetual motion and agitation should induce
slothfulness, whereas, contrariwise, it may be truly affirmed that no kind of
men love business for itself but those that are learned; for other persons
love it for profit, as a hireling that loves the work for the wages; or for
honour, as because it beareth them up in the eyes of men, and refresheth
their reputation, which otherwise would wear; or because it putteth them in
mind of their fortune, and giveth them occasion to pleasure and displeasure;
or because it exerciseth some faculty wherein they take pride, and so
entertaineth them in good-humour and pleasing conceits towards
themselves; or because it advanceth any other their ends. So that as it is
said of untrue valours, that some men’s valours are in the eyes of them that
look on, so such men’s industries are in the eyes of others, or, at least, in
regard of their own designments; only learned men love business as an
action according to nature, as agreeable to health of mind as exercise is to
health of body, taking pleasure in the action itself, and not in the purchase,
so that of all men they are the most indefatigable, if it be towards any
business which can hold or detain their mind.
(6) And if any man be laborious in reading and study, and yet idle in
business and action, it groweth from some weakness of body or softness of
spirit, such as Seneca speaketh of: Quidam tam sunt umbratiles, ut putent in
turbido esse quicquid in luce est; and not of learning: well may it be that
such a point of a man’s nature may make him give himself to learning, but
it is not learning that breedeth any such point in his nature.
(7) And that learning should take up too much time or leisure: I answer, the
most active or busy man that hath been or can be, hath (no question) many
vacant times of leisure while he expecteth the tides and returns of business
(except he be either tedious and of no despatch, or lightly and unworthily
ambitious to meddle in things that may be better done by others), and then
the question is but how those spaces and times of leisure shall be filled and
spent; whether in pleasure or in studies; as was well answered by
Demosthenes to his adversary Æschines, that was a man given to pleasure,

and told him “That his orations did smell of the lamp.” “Indeed,” said
Demosthenes, “there is a great difference between the things that you and I
do by lamp-light.” So as no man need doubt that learning will expel
business, but rather it will keep and defend the possession of the mind
against idleness and pleasure, which otherwise at unawares may enter to the
prejudice of both.
(8) Again, for that other conceit that learning should undermine the
reverence of laws and government, it is assuredly a mere depravation and
calumny, without all shadow of truth. For to say that a blind custom of
obedience should be a surer obligation than duty taught and understood, it is
to affirm that a blind man may tread surer by a guide than a seeing man can
by a light. And it is without all controversy that learning doth make the
minds of men gentle, generous, manageable, and pliant to government;
whereas ignorance makes them churlish, thwart, and mutinous: and the
evidence of time doth clear this assertion, considering that the most
barbarous, rude, and unlearned times have been most subject to tumults,
seditions, and changes.
(9) And as to the judgment of Cato the Censor, he was well punished for his
blasphemy against learning, in the same kind wherein he offended; for
when he was past threescore years old, he was taken with an extreme desire
to go to school again, and to learn the Greek tongue, to the end to peruse the
Greek authors; which doth well demonstrate that his former censure of the
Grecian learning was rather an affected gravity, than according to the
inward sense of his own opinion. And as for Virgil’s verses, though it
pleased him to brave the world in taking to the Romans the art of empire,
and leaving to others the arts of subjects, yet so much is manifest—that the
Romans never ascended to that height of empire till the time they had
ascended to the height of other arts. For in the time of the two first Cæsars,
which had the art of government in greatest perfection, there lived the best
poet, Virgilius Maro; the best historiographer, Titus Livius; the best
antiquary, Marcus Varro; and the best or second orator, Marcus Cicero, that
to the memory of man are known. As for the accusation of Socrates, the
time must be remembered when it was prosecuted; which was under the
Thirty Tyrants, the most base, bloody, and envious persons that have
governed; which revolution of state was no sooner over but Socrates, whom
they had made a person criminal, was made a person heroical, and his

memory accumulate with honours divine and human; and those discourses
of his which were then termed corrupting of manners, were after
acknowledged for sovereign medicines of the mind and manners, and so
have been received ever since till this day. Let this, therefore, serve for
answer to politiques, which in their humorous severity, or in their feigned
gravity, have presumed to throw imputations upon learning; which
redargution nevertheless (save that we know not whether our labours may
extend to other ages) were not needful for the present, in regard of the love
and reverence towards learning which the example and countenance of two
so learned princes, Queen Elizabeth and your Majesty, being as Castor and
Pollux, lucida sidera, stars of excellent light and most benign influence,
hath wrought in all men of place and authority in our nation.
III. (1) Now therefore we come to that third sort of discredit or diminution
of credit that groweth unto learning from learned men themselves, which
commonly cleaveth fastest: it is either from their fortune, or from their
manners, or from the nature of their studies. For the first, it is not in their
power; and the second is accidental; the third only is proper to be handled:
but because we are not in hand with true measure, but with popular
estimation and conceit, it is not amiss to speak somewhat of the two
former. The derogations therefore which grow to learning from the fortune
or condition of learned men, are either in respect of scarcity of means, or in
respect of privateness of life and meanness of employments.
(2) Concerning want, and that it is the case of learned men usually to begin
with little, and not to grow rich so fast as other men, by reason they convert
not their labours chiefly to lucre and increase, it were good to leave the
commonplace in commendation of povery to some friar to handle, to whom
much was attributed by Machiavel in this point when he said, “That the
kingdom of the clergy had been long before at an end, if the reputation and
reverence towards the poverty of friars had not borne out the scandal of the
superfluities and excesses of bishops and prelates.” So a man might say
that the felicity and delicacy of princes and great persons had long since
turned to rudeness and barbarism, if the poverty of learning had not kept up
civility and honour of life; but without any such advantages, it is worthy the
observation what a reverent and honoured thing poverty of fortune was for
some ages in the Roman state, which nevertheless was a state without
paradoxes. For we see what Titus Livius saith in his introduction: Cæterum

aut me amor negotii suscepti fallit aut nulla unquam respublica nec major,
nec sanctior, nec bonis exemplis ditior fuit; nec in quam tam sero avaritia
luxuriaque immigraverint; nec ubi tantus ac tam diu paupertati ac
parsimoniæ honos fuerit. We see likewise, after that the state of Rome was
not itself, but did degenerate, how that person that took upon him to be
counsellor to Julius Cæsar after his victory where to begin his restoration of
the state, maketh it of all points the most summary to take away the
estimation of wealth: Verum hæc et omnia mala pariter cum honore
pecuniæ desinent; si neque magistratus, neque alia vulgo cupienda, venalia
erunt. To conclude this point: as it was truly said that Paupertas est virtutis
fortuna, though sometimes it come from vice, so it may be fitly said that,
though some times it may proceed from misgovernment and accident.
Surely Solomon hath pronounced it both in censure, Qui festinat ad divitias
non erit insons; and in precept, “Buy the truth, and sell it not; and so of
wisdom and knowledge;” judging that means were to be spent upon
learning, and not learning to be applied to means. And as for the
privateness or obscureness (as it may be in vulgar estimation accounted) of
life of contemplative men, it is a theme so common to extol a private life,
not taxed with sensuality and sloth, in comparison and to the disadvantage
of a civil life, for safety, liberty, pleasure, and dignity, or at least freedom
from indignity, as no man handleth it but handleth it well; such a
consonancy it hath to men’s conceits in the expressing, and to men’s
consents in the allowing. This only I will add, that learned men forgotten in
states and not living in the eyes of men, are like the images of Cassius and
Brutus in the funeral of Junia, of which, not being represented as many
others were, Tacitus saith, Eo ipso præfulgebant quod non visebantur.
(3) And for meanness of employment, that which is most traduced to
contempt is that the government of youth is commonly allotted to them;
which age, because it is the age of least authority, it is transferred to the
disesteeming of those employments wherein youth is conversant, and which
are conversant about youth. But how unjust this traducement is (if you will
reduce things from popularity of opinion to measure of reason) may appear
in that we see men are more curious what they put into a new vessel than
into a vessel seasoned; and what mould they lay about a young plant than
about a plant corroborate; so as this weakest terms and times of all things
use to have the best applications and helps. And will you hearken to the

Hebrew rabbins? “Your young men shall see visions, and your old men
shall dream dreams:” say they, youth is the worthier age, for that visions are
nearer apparitions of God than dreams? And let it be noted that howsoever
the condition of life of pedantes hath been scorned upon theatres, as the ape
of tyranny; and that the modern looseness or negligence hath taken no due
regard to the choice of schoolmasters and tutors; yet the ancient wisdom of
the best times did always make a just complaint, that states were too busy
with their laws and too negligent in point of education: which excellent part
of ancient discipline hath been in some sort revived of late times by the
colleges of the Jesuits; of whom, although in regard of their superstition I
may say, Quo meliores, eo deteriores; yet in regard of this, and some other
points concerning human learning and moral matters, I may say, as
Agesilaus said to his enemy Pharnabazus, Talis quum sis, utunam noster
esses. And that much touching the discredits drawn from the fortunes of
learned men.
(4) As touching the manners of learned men, it is a thing personal and
individual: and no doubt there be amongst them, as in other professions, of
all temperatures: but yet so as it is not without truth which is said, that
Abeunt studua in mores, studies have an influence and operation upon the
manners of those that are conversant in them.
(5) But upon an attentive and indifferent review, I for my part cannot find
any disgrace to learning can proceed from the manners of learned men; not
inherent to them as they are learned; except it be a fault (which was the
supposed fault of Demosthenes, Cicero, Cato II., Seneca, and many more)
that because the times they read of are commonly better than the times they
live in, and the duties taught better than the duties practised, they contend
sometimes too far to bring things to perfection, and to reduce the corruption
of manners to honesty of precepts or examples of too great height. And yet
hereof they have caveats enough in their own walks. For Solon, when he
was asked whether he had given his citizens the best laws, answered wisely,
“Yea, of such as they would receive:” and Plato, finding that his own heart
could not agree with the corrupt manners of his country, refused to bear
place or office, saying, “That a man’s country was to be used as his parents
were, that is, with humble persuasions, and not with contestations.” And
Cæsar’s counsellor put in the same caveat, Non ad vetera instituta revocans
quæ jampridem corruptis moribus ludibrio sunt; and Cicero noteth this

error directly in Cato II. when he writes to his friend Atticus, Cato optime
sentit, sed nocet interdum reipublicæ; loquitur enim tanquam in republicâ
Platonis, non tanquam in fæce Romuli. And the same Cicero doth excuse
and expound the philosophers for going too far and being too exact in their
prescripts when he saith, Isti ipse præceptores virtutis et magistri videntur
fines officiorum paulo longius quam natura vellet protulisse, ut cum ad
ultimum animo contendissemus, ibi tamen, ubi oportet, consisteremus: and
yet himself might have said, Monitis sum minor ipse meis; for it was his
own fault, though not in so extreme a degree.
(6) Another fault likewise much of this kind hath been incident to learned
men, which is, that they have esteemed the preservation, good, and honour
of their countries or masters before their own fortunes or safeties. For so
saith Demosthenes unto the Athenians: “If it please you to note it, my
counsels unto you are not such whereby I should grow great amongst you,
and you become little amongst the Grecians; but they be of that nature as
they are sometimes not good for me to give, but are always good for you to
follow.” And so Seneca, after he had consecrated that Quinquennium
Neronis to the eternal glory of learned governors, held on his honest and
loyal course of good and free counsel after his master grew extremely
corrupt in his government. Neither can this point otherwise be, for learning
endueth men’s minds with a true sense of the frailty of their persons, the
casualty of their fortunes, and the dignity of their soul and vocation, so that
it is impossible for them to esteem that any greatness of their own fortune
can be a true or worthy end of their being and ordainment, and therefore are
desirous to give their account to God, and so likewise to their masters under
God (as kings and the states that they serve) in those words, Ecce tibi
lucrefeci, and not Ecce mihi lucrefeci; whereas the corrupter sort of mere
politiques, that have not their thoughts established by learning in the love
and apprehension of duty, nor never look abroad into universality, do refer
all things to themselves, and thrust themselves into the centre of the world,
as if all lines should meet in them and their fortunes, never caring in all
tempests what becomes of the ship of state, so they may save themselves in
the cockboat of their own fortune; whereas men that feel the weight of duty
and know the limits of self-love use to make good their places and duties,
though with peril; and if they stand in seditious and violent alterations, it is
rather the reverence which many times both adverse parts do give to

honesty, than any versatile advantage of their own carriage. But for this
point of tender sense and fast obligation of duty which learning doth endue
the mind withal, howsoever fortune may tax it, and many in the depth of
their corrupt principles may despise it, yet it will receive an open
allowance, and therefore needs the less disproof or excuse.
(7) Another fault incident commonly to learned men, which may be more
properly defended than truly denied, is that they fail sometimes in applying
themselves to particular persons, which want of exact application ariseth
from two causes—the one, because the largeness of their mind can hardly
confine itself to dwell in the exquisite observation or examination of the
nature and customs of one person, for it is a speech for a lover, and not for a
wise man, Satis magnum alter alteri theatrum sumus. Nevertheless I shall
yield that he that cannot contract the sight of his mind as well as disperse
and dilate it, wanteth a great faculty. But there is a second cause, which is
no inability, but a rejection upon choice and judgment. For the honest and
just bounds of observation by one person upon another extend no further
but to understand him sufficiently, whereby not to give him offence, or
whereby to be able to give him faithful counsel, or whereby to stand upon
reasonable guard and caution in respect of a man’s self. But to be
speculative into another man to the end to know how to work him, or wind
him, or govern him, proceedeth from a heart that is double and cloven, and
not entire and ingenuous; which as in friendship it is want of integrity, so
towards princes or superiors is want of duty. For the custom of the Levant,
which is that subjects do forbear to gaze or fix their eyes upon princes, is in
the outward ceremony barbarous, but the moral is good; for men ought not,
by cunning and bent observations, to pierce and penetrate into the hearts of
kings, which the Scripture hath declared to be inscrutable.
(8) There is yet another fault (with which I will conclude this part) which is
often noted in learned men, that they do many times fail to observe decency
and discretion in their behaviour and carriage, and commit errors in small
and ordinary points of action, so as the vulgar sort of capacities do make a
judgment of them in greater matters by that which they find wanting in
them in smaller. But this consequence doth oft deceive men, for which I do
refer them over to that which was said by Themistocles, arrogantly and
uncivilly being applied to himself out of his own mouth, but, being applied
to the general state of this question, pertinently and justly, when, being

invited to touch a lute, he said, “He could not fiddle, but he could make a
small town a great state.” So no doubt many may be well seen in the
passages of government and policy which are to seek in little and punctual
occasions. I refer them also to that which Plato said of his master Socrates,
whom he compared to the gallipots of apothecaries, which on the outside
had apes and owls and antiques, but contained within sovereign and
precious liquors and confections; acknowledging that, to an external report,
he was not without superficial levities and deformities, but was inwardly
replenished with excellent virtues and powers. And so much touching the
point of manners of learned men.
(9) But in the meantime I have no purpose to give allowance to some
conditions and courses base and unworthy, wherein divers professors of
learning have wronged themselves and gone too far; such as were those
trencher philosophers which in the later age of the Roman state were
usually in the houses of great persons, being little better than solemn
parasites, of which kind, Lucian maketh a merry description of the
philosopher that the great lady took to ride with her in her coach, and would
needs have him carry her little dog, which he doing officiously and yet
uncomely, the page scoffed and said, “That he doubted the philosopher of a
Stoic would turn to be a Cynic.” But, above all the rest, this gross and
palpable flattery whereunto many not unlearned have abased and abused
their wits and pens, turning (as Du Bartas saith) Hecuba into Helena, and
Faustina into Lucretia, hath most diminished the price and estimation of
learning. Neither is the modern dedication of books and writings, as to
patrons, to be commended, for that books (such as are worthy the name of
books) ought to have no patrons but truth and reason. And the ancient
custom was to dedicate them only to private and equal friends, or to entitle
the books with their names; or if to kings and great persons, it was to some
such as the argument of the book was fit and proper for; but these and the
like courses may deserve rather reprehension than defence.
(10) Not that I can tax or condemn the morigeration or application of
learned men to men in fortune. For the answer was good that Diogenes
made to one that asked him in mockery, “How it came to pass that
philosophers were the followers of rich men, and not rich men of
philosophers?” He answered soberly, and yet sharply, “Because the one
sort knew what they had need of, and the other did not.” And of the like

nature was the answer which Aristippus made, when having a petition to
Dionysius, and no ear given to him, he fell down at his feet, whereupon
Dionysius stayed and gave him the hearing, and granted it; and afterwards
some person, tender on the behalf of philosophy, reproved Aristippus that
he would offer the profession of philosophy such an indignity as for a
private suit to fall at a tyrant’s feet; but he answered, “It was not his fault,
but it was the fault of Dionysius, that had his ears in his feet.” Neither was
it accounted weakness, but discretion, in him that would not dispute his best
with Adrianus Cæsar, excusing himself, “That it was reason to yield to him
that commanded thirty legions.” These and the like, applications, and
stooping to points of necessity and convenience, cannot be disallowed; for
though they may have some outward baseness, yet in a judgment truly made
they are to be accounted submissions to the occasion and not to the person.
IV. (1) Now I proceed to those errors and vanities which have intervened
amongst the studies themselves of the learned, which is that which is
principal and proper to the present argument; wherein my purpose is not to
make a justification of the errors, but by a censure and separation of the
errors to make a justification of that which is good and sound, and to deliver
that from the aspersion of the other. For we see that it is the manner of men
to scandalise and deprave that which retaineth the state and virtue, by taking
advantage upon that which is corrupt and degenerate, as the heathens in the
primitive Church used to blemish and taint the Christians with the faults
and corruptions of heretics. But nevertheless I have no meaning at this time
to make any exact animadversion of the errors and impediments in matters
of learning, which are more secret and remote from vulgar opinion, but only
to speak unto such as do fall under or near unto a popular observation.
(2) There be therefore chiefly three vanities in studies, whereby learning
hath been most traduced. For those things we do esteem vain which are
either false or frivolous, those which either have no truth or no use; and
those persons we esteem vain which are either credulous or curious; and
curiosity is either in matter or words: so that in reason as well as in
experience there fall out to be these three distempers (as I may term them)
of learning—the first, fantastical learning; the second, contentious learning;
and the last, delicate learning; vain imaginations, vain altercations, and vain
affectations; and with the last I will begin. Martin Luther, conducted, no
doubt, by a higher Providence, but in discourse of reason, finding what a

province he had undertaken against the Bishop of Rome and the degenerate
traditions of the Church, and finding his own solitude, being in nowise
aided by the opinions of his own time, was enforced to awake all antiquity,
and to call former times to his succours to make a party against the present
time. So that the ancient authors, both in divinity and in humanity, which
had long time slept in libraries, began generally to be read and revolved.
This, by consequence, did draw on a necessity of a more exquisite travail in
the languages original, wherein those authors did write, for the better
understanding of those authors, and the better advantage of pressing and
applying their words. And thereof grew, again, a delight in their manner of
style and phrase, and an admiration of that kind of writing, which was much
furthered and precipitated by the enmity and opposition that the
propounders of those primitive but seeming new opinions had against the
schoolmen, who were generally of the contrary part, and whose writings
were altogether in a differing style and form; taking liberty to coin and
frame new terms of art to express their own sense, and to avoid circuit of
speech, without regard to the pureness, pleasantness, and (as I may call it)
lawfulness of the phrase or word. And again, because the great labour then
was with the people (of whom the Pharisees were wont to say, Execrabilis
ista turba, quæ non novit legem), for the winning and persuading of them,
there grew of necessity in chief price and request eloquence and variety of
discourse, as the fittest and forciblest access into the capacity of the vulgar
sort; so that these four causes concurring—the admiration of ancient
authors, the hate of the schoolmen, the exact study of languages, and the
efficacy of preaching—did bring in an affectionate study of eloquence and
copy of speech, which then began to flourish. This grew speedily to an
excess; for men began to hunt more after words than matter—more after the
choiceness of the phrase, and the round and clean composition of the
sentence, and the sweet falling of the clauses, and the varying and
illustration of their works with tropes and figures, than after the weight of
matter, worth of subject, soundness of argument, life of invention, or depth
of judgment. Then grew the flowing and watery vein of Osorius, the
Portugal bishop, to be in price. Then did Sturmius spend such infinite and
curious pains upon Cicero the Orator and Hermogenes the Rhetorician,
besides his own books of Periods and Imitation, and the like. Then did Car
of Cambridge and Ascham with their lectures and writings almost deify
Cicero and Demosthenes, and allure all young men that were studious unto

that delicate and polished kind of learning. Then did Erasmus take occasion
to make the scoffing echo, Decem annos consuumpsi in legendo Cicerone;
and the echo answered in Greek, One, Asine. Then grew the learning of the
schoolmen to be utterly despised as barbarous. In sum, the whole
inclination and bent of those times was rather towards copy than weight.
(3) Here therefore [is] the first distemper of learning, when men study
words and not matter; whereof, though I have represented an example of
late times, yet it hath been and will be secundum majus et minus in all time.
And how is it possible but this should have an operation to discredit
learning, even with vulgar capacities, when they see learned men’s works
like the first letter of a patent or limited book, which though it hath large
flourishes, yet it is but a letter? It seems to me that Pygmalion’s frenzy is a
good emblem or portraiture of this vanity; for words are but the images of
matter, and except they have life of reason and invention, to fall in love
with them is all one as to fall in love with a picture.
(4) But yet notwithstanding it is a thing not hastily to be condemned, to
clothe and adorn the obscurity even of philosophy itself with sensible and
plausible elocution. For hereof we have great examples in Xenophon,
Cicero, Seneca, Plutarch, and of Plato also in some degree; and hereof
likewise there is great use, for surely, to the severe inquisition of truth and
the deep progress into philosophy, it is some hindrance because it is too
early satisfactory to the mind of man, and quencheth the desire of further
search before we come to a just period. But then if a man be to have any
use of such knowledge in civil occasions, of conference, counsel,
persuasion, discourse, or the like, then shall he find it prepared to his hands
in those authors which write in that manner. But the excess of this is so
justly contemptible, that as Hercules, when he saw the image of Adonis,
Venus’ minion, in a temple, said in disdain, Nil sacri es; so there is none of
Hercules’ followers in learning—that is, the more severe and laborious sort
of inquirers into truth—but will despise those delicacies and affectations, as
indeed capable of no divineness. And thus much of the first disease or
distemper of learning.
(5) The second which followeth is in nature worse than the former: for as
substance of matter is better than beauty of words, so contrariwise vain
matter is worse than vain words: wherein it seemeth the reprehension of St.

Paul was not only proper for those times, but prophetical for the times
following; and not only respective to divinity, but extensive to all
knowledge: Devita profanas vocum novitates, et oppositiones falsi nominis
scientiæ. For he assigneth two marks and badges of suspected and falsified
science: the one, the novelty and strangeness of terms; the other, the
strictness of positions, which of necessity doth induce oppositions, and so
questions and altercations. Surely, like as many substances in nature which
are solid do putrefy and corrupt into worms;—so it is the property of good
and sound knowledge to putrefy and dissolve into a number of subtle, idle,
unwholesome, and (as I may term them) vermiculate questions, which have
indeed a kind of quickness and life of spirit, but no soundness of matter or
goodness of quality. This kind of degenerate learning did chiefly reign
amongst the schoolmen, who having sharp and strong wits, and abundance
of leisure, and small variety of reading, but their wits being shut up in the
cells of a few authors (chiefly Aristotle their dictator) as their persons were
shut up in the cells of monasteries and colleges, and knowing little history,
either of nature or time, did out of no great quantity of matter and infinite
agitation of wit spin out unto us those laborious webs of learning which are
extant in their books. For the wit and mind of man, if it work upon matter,
which is the contemplation of the creatures of God, worketh according to
the stuff and is limited thereby; but if it work upon itself, as the spider
worketh his web, then it is endless, and brings forth indeed cobwebs of
learning, admirable for the fineness of thread and work, but of no substance
or profit.
(6) This same unprofitable subtility or curiosity is of two sorts: either in the
subject itself that they handle, when it is a fruitless speculation or
controversy (whereof there are no small number both in divinity and
philosophy), or in the manner or method of handling of a knowledge, which
amongst them was this—upon every particular position or assertion to
frame objections, and to those objections, solutions; which solutions were
for the most part not confutations, but distinctions: whereas indeed the
strength of all sciences is, as the strength of the old man’s faggot, in the
bond. For the harmony of a science, supporting each part the other, is and
ought to be the true and brief confutation and suppression of all the smaller
sort of objections. But, on the other side, if you take out every axiom, as
the sticks of the faggot, one by one, you may quarrel with them and bend

them and break them at your pleasure: so that, as was said of Seneca,
Verborum minutiis rerum frangit pondera, so a man may truly say of the
schoolmen, Quæstionum minutiis scientiarum frangunt soliditatem. For
were it not better for a man in fair room to set up one great light, or
branching candlestick of lights, than to go about with a small watch-candle
into every corner? And such is their method, that rests not so much upon
evidence of truth proved by arguments, authorities, similitudes, examples,
as upon particular confutations and solutions of every scruple, cavillation,
and objection; breeding for the most part one question as fast as it solveth
another; even as in the former resemblance, when you carry the light into
one corner, you darken the rest; so that the fable and fiction of Scylla
seemeth to be a lively image of this kind of philosophy or knowledge;
which was transformed into a comely virgin for the upper parts; but then
Candida succinctam latrantibus inguina monstris: so the generalities of the
schoolmen are for a while good and proportionable; but then when you
descend into their distinctions and decisions, instead of a fruitful womb for
the use and benefit of man’s life, they end in monstrous altercations and
barking questions. So as it is not possible but this quality of knowledge
must fall under popular contempt, the people being apt to contemn truths
upon occasion of controversies and altercations, and to think they are all out
of their way which never meet; and when they see such digladiation about
subtleties, and matters of no use or moment, they easily fall upon that
judgment of Dionysius of Syracusa, Verba ista sunt senum otiosorum.
(7) Notwithstanding, certain it is that if those schoolmen to their great thirst
of truth and unwearied travail of wit had joined variety and universality of
reading and contemplation, they had proved excellent lights, to the great
advancement of all learning and knowledge; but as they are, they are great
undertakers indeed, and fierce with dark keeping. But as in the inquiry of
the divine truth, their pride inclined to leave the oracle of God’s word, and
to vanish in the mixture of their own inventions; so in the inquisition of
nature, they ever left the oracle of God’s works, and adored the deceiving
and deformed images which the unequal mirror of their own minds, or a
few received authors or principles, did represent unto them. And thus much
for the second disease of learning.
(8) For the third vice or disease of learning, which concerneth deceit or
untruth, it is of all the rest the foulest; as that which doth destroy the

essential form of knowledge, which is nothing but a representation of truth:
for the truth of being and the truth of knowing are one, differing no more
than the direct beam and the beam reflected. This vice therefore brancheth
itself into two sorts; delight in deceiving and aptness to be deceived;
imposture and credulity; which, although they appear to be of a diverse
nature, the one seeming to proceed of cunning and the other of simplicity,
yet certainly they do for the most part concur: for, as the verse noteth—

“Percontatorem fugito, nam garrulus idem est,”

an inquisitive man is a prattler; so upon the like reason a credulous man is a
deceiver: as we see it in fame, that he that will easily believe rumours will
as easily augment rumours and add somewhat to them of his own; which
Tacitus wisely noteth, when he saith, Fingunt simul creduntque: so great an
affinity hath fiction and belief.
(9) This facility of credit and accepting or admitting things weakly
authorised or warranted is of two kinds according to the subject: for it is
either a belief of history, or, as the lawyers speak, matter of fact; or else of
matter of art and opinion. As to the former, we see the experience and
inconvenience of this error in ecclesiastical history; which hath too easily
received and registered reports and narrations of miracles wrought by
martyrs, hermits, or monks of the desert, and other holy men, and their
relics, shrines, chapels and images: which though they had a passage for a
time by the ignorance of the people, the superstitious simplicity of some
and the politic toleration of others holding them but as divine poesies, yet
after a period of time, when the mist began to clear up, they grew to be
esteemed but as old wives’ fables, impostures of the clergy, illusions of
spirits, and badges of Antichrist, to the great scandal and detriment of
religion.
(10) So in natural history, we see there hath not been that choice and
judgment used as ought to have been; as may appear in the writings of
Plinius, Cardanus, Albertus, and divers of the Arabians, being fraught with
much fabulous matter, a great part not only untried, but notoriously untrue,
to the great derogation of the credit of natural philosophy with the grave
and sober kind of wits: wherein the wisdom and integrity of Aristotle is
worthy to be observed, that, having made so diligent and exquisite a history

of living creatures, hath mingled it sparingly with any vain or feigned
matter; and yet on the other side hath cast all prodigious narrations, which
he thought worthy the recording, into one book, excellently discerning that
matter of manifest truth, such whereupon observation and rule was to be
built, was not to be mingled or weakened with matter of doubtful credit;
and yet again, that rarities and reports that seem uncredible are not to be
suppressed or denied to the memory of men.
(11) And as for the facility of credit which is yielded to arts and opinions, it
is likewise of two kinds; either when too much belief is attributed to the arts
themselves, or to certain authors in any art. The sciences themselves, which
have had better intelligence and confederacy with the imagination of man
than with his reason, are three in number: astrology, natural magic, and
alchemy; of which sciences, nevertheless, the ends or pretences are noble.
For astrology pretendeth to discover that correspondence or concatenation
which is between the superior globe and the inferior; natural magic
pretendeth to call and reduce natural philosophy from variety of
speculations to the magnitude of works; and alchemy pretendeth to make
separation of all the unlike parts of bodies which in mixtures of natures are
incorporate. But the derivations and prosecutions to these ends, both in the
theories and in the practices, are full of error and vanity; which the great
professors themselves have sought to veil over and conceal by enigmatical
writings, and referring themselves to auricular traditions and such other
devices, to save the credit of impostures. And yet surely to alchemy this
right is due, that it may be compared to the husbandman whereof Æsop
makes the fable; that, when he died, told his sons that he had left unto them
gold buried underground in his vineyard; and they digged over all the
ground, and gold they found none; but by reason of their stirring and
digging the mould about the roots of their vines, they had a great vintage
the year following: so assuredly the search and stir to make gold hath
brought to light a great number of good and fruitful inventions and
experiments, as well for the disclosing of nature as for the use of man’s life.
(12) And as for the overmuch credit that hath been given unto authors in
sciences, in making them dictators, that their words should stand, and not
consuls, to give advice; the damage is infinite that sciences have received
thereby, as the principal cause that hath kept them low at a stay without
growth or advancement. For hence it hath come, that in arts mechanical the

first deviser comes shortest, and time addeth and perfecteth; but in sciences
the first author goeth furthest, and time leeseth and corrupteth. So we see
artillery, sailing, printing, and the like, were grossly managed at the first,
and by time accommodated and refined; but contrariwise, the philosophies
and sciences of Aristotle, Plato, Democritus, Hippocrates, Euclides,
Archimedes, of most vigour at the first, and by time degenerate and
imbased: whereof the reason is no other, but that in the former many wits
and industries have contributed in one; and in the latter many wits and
industries have been spent about the wit of some one, whom many times
they have rather depraved than illustrated; for, as water will not ascend
higher than the level of the first spring-head from whence it descendeth, so
knowledge derived from Aristotle, and exempted from liberty of
examination, will not rise again higher than the knowledge of Aristotle.
And, therefore, although the position be good, Oportet discentem credere,
yet it must be coupled with this, Oportet edoctum judicare; for disciples do
owe unto masters only a temporary belief and a suspension of their own
judgment till they be fully instructed, and not an absolute resignation or
perpetual captivity; and therefore, to conclude this point, I will say no more,
but so let great authors have their due, as time, which is the author of
authors, be not deprived of his due—which is, further and further to
discover truth. Thus have I gone over these three diseases of learning;
besides the which there are some other rather peccant humours than formed
diseases, which, nevertheless, are not so secret and intrinsic, but that they
fall under a popular observation and traducement, and, therefore, are not to
be passed over.
V. (1) The first of these is the extreme affecting of two extremities: the one
antiquity, the other novelty; wherein it seemeth the children of time do take
after the nature and malice of the father. For as he devoureth his children,
so one of them seeketh to devour and suppress the other; while antiquity
envieth there should be new additions, and novelty cannot be content to add
but it must deface; surely the advice of the prophet is the true direction in
this matter, State super vias antiquas, et videte quænam sit via recta et bona
et ambulate in ea. Antiquity deserveth that reverence, that men should
make a stand thereupon and discover what is the best way; but when the
discovery is well taken, then to make progression. And to speak truly,
Antiquitas sæculi juventus mundi. These times are the ancient times, when

the world is ancient, and not those which we account ancient ordine
retrogrado, by a computation backward from ourselves.
(2) Another error induced by the former is a distrust that anything should be
now to be found out, which the world should have missed and passed over
so long time: as if the same objection were to be made to time that Lucian
maketh to Jupiter and other the heathen gods; of which he wondereth that
they begot so many children in old time, and begot none in his time; and
asketh whether they were become septuagenary, or whether the law Papia,
made against old men’s marriages, had restrained them. So it seemeth men
doubt lest time is become past children and generation; wherein
contrariwise we see commonly the levity and unconstancy of men’s
judgments, which, till a matter be done, wonder that it can be done; and as
soon as it is done, wonder again that it was no sooner done: as we see in the
expedition of Alexander into Asia, which at first was prejudged as a vast
and impossible enterprise; and yet afterwards it pleaseth Livy to make no
more of it than this, Nil aliud quàm bene ausus vana contemnere. And the
same happened to Columbus in the western navigation. But in intellectual
matters it is much more common, as may be seen in most of the
propositions of Euclid; which till they be demonstrate, they seem strange to
our assent; but being demonstrate, our mind accepteth of them by a kind of
relation (as the lawyers speak), as if we had known them before.
(3) Another error, that hath also some affinity with the former, is a conceit
that of former opinions or sects after variety and examination the best hath
still prevailed and suppressed the rest; so as if a man should begin the
labour of a new search, he were but like to light upon somewhat formerly
rejected, and by rejection brought into oblivion; as if the multitude, or the
wisest for the multitude’s sake, were not ready to give passage rather to that
which is popular and superficial than to that which is substantial and
profound for the truth is, that time seemeth to be of the nature of a river or
stream, which carrieth down to us that which is light and blown up, and
sinketh and drowneth that which is weighty and solid.
(4) Another error, of a diverse nature from all the former, is the over-early
and peremptory reduction of knowledge into arts and methods; from which
time commonly sciences receive small or no augmentation. But as young
men, when they knit and shape perfectly, do seldom grow to a further

stature, so knowledge, while it is in aphorisms and observations, it is in
growth; but when it once is comprehended in exact methods, it may,
perchance, be further polished, and illustrate and accommodated for use and
practice, but it increaseth no more in bulk and substance.
(5) Another error which doth succeed that which we last mentioned is, that
after the distribution of particular arts and sciences, men have abandoned
universality, or philosophia prima, which cannot but cease and stop all
progression. For no perfect discovery can be made upon a flat or a level;
neither is it possible to discover the more remote and deeper parts of any
science if you stand but upon the level of the same science, and ascend not
to a higher science.
(6) Another error hath proceeded from too great a reverence, and a kind of
adoration of the mind and understanding of man; by means whereof, men
have withdrawn themselves too much from the contemplation of nature, and
the observations of experience, and have tumbled up and down in their own
reason and conceits. Upon these intellectualists, which are notwithstanding
commonly taken for the most sublime and divine philosophers, Heraclitus
gave a just censure, saying:—“Men sought truth in their own little worlds,
and not in the great and common world;” for they disdain to spell, and so by
degrees to read in the volume of God’s works; and contrariwise by
continual meditation and agitation of wit do urge and, as it were, invocate
their own spirits to divine and give oracles unto them, whereby they are
deservedly deluded.
(7) Another error that hath some connection with this latter is, that men
have used to infect their meditations, opinions, and doctrines with some
conceits which they have most admired, or some sciences which they have
most applied, and given all things else a tincture according to them, utterly
untrue and improper. So hath Plato intermingled his philosophy with
theology, and Aristotle with logic; and the second school of Plato, Proclus
and the rest, with the mathematics; for these were the arts which had a kind
of primogeniture with them severally. So have the alchemists made a
philosophy out of a few experiments of the furnace; and Gilbertus our
countryman hath made a philosophy out of the observations of a loadstone.
So Cicero, when reciting the several opinions of the nature of the soul, he
found a musician that held the soul was but a harmony, saith pleasantly, Hic

ab arte sua non recessit, &c. But of these conceits Aristotle speaketh
seriously and wisely when he saith, Qui respiciunt ad pauca de facili
pronunciant.
(8) Another error is an impatience of doubt, and haste to assertion without
due and mature suspension of judgment. For the two ways of contemplation
are not unlike the two ways of action commonly spoken of by the ancients:
the one plain and smooth in the beginning, and in the end impassable; the
other rough and troublesome in the entrance, but after a while fair and
even. So it is in contemplation: if a man will begin with certainties, he shall
end in doubts; but if he will be content to begin with doubts, he shall end in
certainties.
(9) Another error is in the manner of the tradition and delivery of
knowledge, which is for the most part magistral and peremptory, and not
ingenuous and faithful; in a sort as may be soonest believed, and not easiest
examined. It is true, that in compendious treatises for practice that form is
not to be disallowed; but in the true handling of knowledge men ought not
to fall either on the one side into the vein of Velleius the Epicurean, Nil tam
metuens quam ne dubitare aliqua de revideretur: nor, on the other side, into
Socrates, his ironical doubting of all things; but to propound things
sincerely with more or less asseveration, as they stand in a man’s own
judgment proved more or less.
(10) Other errors there are in the scope that men propound to themselves,
whereunto they bend their endeavours; for, whereas the more constant and
devote kind of professors of any science ought to propound to themselves to
make some additions to their science, they convert their labours to aspire to
certain second prizes: as to be a profound interpreter or commentor, to be a
sharp champion or defender, to be a methodical compounder or abridger,
and so the patrimony of knowledge cometh to be sometimes improved, but
seldom augmented.
(11) But the greatest error of all the rest is the mistaking or misplacing of
the last or furthest end of knowledge. For men have entered into a desire of
learning and knowledge, sometimes upon a natural curiosity and inquisitive
appetite; sometimes to entertain their minds with variety and delight;
sometimes for ornament and reputation; and sometimes to enable them to

victory of wit and contradiction; and most times for lucre and profession;
and seldom sincerely to give a true account of their gift of reason to the
benefit and use of men: as if there were sought in knowledge a couch
whereupon to rest a searching and restless spirit; or a terrace for a
wandering and variable mind to walk up and down with a fair prospect; or a
tower of state, for a proud mind to raise itself upon; or a fort or
commanding ground, for strife and contention; or a shop, for profit or sale;
and not a rich storehouse for the glory of the Creator and the relief of man’s
estate. But this is that which will indeed dignify and exalt knowledge, if
contemplation and action may be more nearly and straitly conjoined and
united together than they have been: a conjunction like unto that of the two
highest planets, Saturn, the planet of rest and contemplation; and Jupiter,
the planet of civil society and action, howbeit, I do not mean, when I speak
of use and action, that end before-mentioned of the applying of knowledge
to lucre and profession; for I am not ignorant how much that diverteth and
interrupteth the prosecution and advancement of knowledge, like unto the
golden ball thrown before Atalanta, which, while she goeth aside and
stoopeth to take up, the race is hindered,

“Declinat cursus, aurumque volubile tollit.” [39]

Neither is my meaning, as was spoken of Socrates, to call philosophy down
from heaven to converse upon the earth—that is, to leave natural
philosophy aside, and to apply knowledge only to manners and policy. But
as both heaven and earth do conspire and contribute to the use and benefit
of man, so the end ought to be, from both philosophies to separate and
reject vain speculations, and whatsoever is empty and void, and to preserve
and augment whatsoever is solid and fruitful; that knowledge may not be as
a courtesan, for pleasure and vanity only, or as a bond-woman, to acquire
and gain to her master’s use; but as a spouse, for generation, fruit, and
comfort.
(12) Thus have I described and opened, as by a kind of dissection, those
peccant humours (the principal of them) which have not only given
impediment to the proficience of learning, but have given also occasion to
the traducement thereof: wherein, if I have been too plain, it must be
remembered, fidelia vulnera amantis, sed dolosa oscula malignantis. This I
think I have gained, that I ought to be the better believed in that which I

shall say pertaining to commendation; because I have proceeded so freely in
that which concerneth censure. And yet I have no purpose to enter into a
laudative of learning, or to make a hymn to the Muses (though I am of
opinion that it is long since their rites were duly celebrated), but my intent
is, without varnish or amplification justly to weigh the dignity of
knowledge in the balance with other things, and to take the true value
thereof by testimonies and arguments, divine and human.
VI. (1) First, therefore, let us seek the dignity of knowledge in the archetype
or first platform, which is in the attributes and acts of God, as far as they are
revealed to man and may be observed with sobriety; wherein we may not
seek it by the name of learning, for all learning is knowledge acquired, and
all knowledge in God is original, and therefore we must look for it by
another name, that of wisdom or sapience, as the Scriptures call it.
(2) It is so, then, that in the work of the creation we see a double emanation
of virtue from God; the one referring more properly to power, the other to
wisdom; the one expressed in making the subsistence of the matter, and the
other in disposing the beauty of the form. This being supposed, it is to be
observed that for anything which appeareth in the history of the creation,
the confused mass and matter of heaven and earth was made in a moment,
and the order and disposition of that chaos or mass was the work of six
days; such a note of difference it pleased God to put upon the works of
power, and the works of wisdom; wherewith concurreth, that in the former
it is not set down that God said, “Let there be heaven and earth,” as it is set
down of the works following; but actually, that God made heaven and earth:
the one carrying the style of a manufacture, and the other of a law, decree,
or counsel.
(3) To proceed, to that which is next in order from God, to spirits: we find,
as far as credit is to be given to the celestial hierarchy of that supposed
Dionysius, the senator of Athens, the first place or degree is given to the
angels of love, which are termed seraphim; the second to the angels of light,
which are termed cherubim; and the third, and so following places, to
thrones, principalities, and the rest, which are all angels of power and
ministry; so as this angels of knowledge and illumination are placed before
the angels of office and domination.

(4) To descend from spirits and intellectual forms to sensible and material
forms, we read the first form that was created was light, which hath a
relation and correspondence in nature and corporal things to knowledge in
spirits and incorporal things.
(5) So in the distribution of days we see the day wherein God did rest and
contemplate His own works was blessed above all the days wherein He did
effect and accomplish them.
(6) After the creation was finished, it is set down unto us that man was
placed in the garden to work therein; which work, so appointed to him,
could be no other than work of contemplation; that is, when the end of work
is but for exercise and experiment, not for necessity; for there being then no
reluctation of the creature, nor sweat of the brow, man’s employment must
of consequence have been matter of delight in the experiment, and not
matter of labour for the use. Again, the first acts which man performed in
Paradise consisted of the two summary parts of knowledge; the view of
creatures, and the imposition of names. As for the knowledge which
induced the fall, it was, as was touched before, not the natural knowledge of
creatures, but the moral knowledge of good and evil; wherein the
supposition was, that God’s commandments or prohibitions were not the
originals of good and evil, but that they had other beginnings, which man
aspired to know, to the end to make a total defection from God and to
depend wholly upon himself.
(7) To pass on: in the first event or occurrence after the fall of man, we see
(as the Scriptures have infinite mysteries, not violating at all the truth of this
story or letter) an image of the two estates, the contemplative state and the
active state, figured in the two persons of Abel and Cain, and in the two
simplest and most primitive trades of life; that of the shepherd (who, by
reason of his leisure, rest in a place, and lying in view of heaven, is a lively
image of a contemplative life), and that of the husbandman, where we see
again the favour and election of God went to the shepherd, and not to the
tiller of the ground.
(8) So in the age before the flood, the holy records within those few
memorials which are there entered and registered have vouchsafed to
mention and honour the name of the inventors and authors of music and

works in metal. In the age after the flood, the first great judgment of God
upon the ambition of man was the confusion of tongues; whereby the open
trade and intercourse of learning and knowledge was chiefly imbarred.
(9) To descend to Moses the lawgiver, and God’s first pen: he is adorned by
the Scriptures with this addition and commendation, “That he was seen in
all the learning of the Egyptians,” which nation we know was one of the
most ancient schools of the world: for so Plato brings in the Egyptian priest
saying unto Solon, “You Grecians are ever children; you have no
knowledge of antiquity, nor antiquity of knowledge.” Take a view of the
ceremonial law of Moses; you shall find, besides the prefiguration of Christ,
the badge or difference of the people of God, the exercise and impression of
obedience, and other divine uses and fruits thereof, that some of the most
learned Rabbins have travailed profitably and profoundly to observe, some
of them a natural, some of them a moral sense, or reduction of many of the
ceremonies and ordinances. As in the law of the leprosy, where it is said,
“If the whiteness have overspread the flesh, the patient may pass abroad for
clean; but if there be any whole flesh remaining, he is to be shut up for
unclean;” one of them noteth a principle of nature, that putrefaction is more
contagious before maturity than after; and another noteth a position of
moral philosophy, that men abandoned to vice do not so much corrupt
manners, as those that are half good and half evil. So in this and very many
other places in that law, there is to be found, besides the theological sense,
much aspersion of philosophy.
(10) So likewise in that excellent hook of Job, if it be revolved with
diligence, it will be found pregnant and swelling with natural philosophy; as
for example, cosmography, and the roundness of the world, Qui extendit
aquilonem super vacuum, et appendit terram super nihilum; wherein the
pensileness of the earth, the pole of the north, and the finiteness or
convexity of heaven are manifestly touched. So again, matter of astronomy:
Spiritus ejus ornavit cælos, et obstetricante manu ejus eductus est Coluber
tortuoses. And in another place, Nunquid conjungere valebis micantes
stellas Pleiadas, aut gyrum Arcturi poteris dissipare? Where the fixing of
the stars, ever standing at equal distance, is with great elegancy noted. And
in another place, Qui facit Arcturum, et Oriona, et Hyadas, et interiora
Austri; where again he takes knowledge of the depression of the southern
pole, calling it the secrets of the south, because the southern stars were in

that climate unseen. Matter of generation: Annon sicut lac mulsisti me, et
sicut caseum coagulasti me? &c. Matter of minerals: Habet argentum
venarum suarum principia; et auro locus est in quo conflatur, ferrum de
terra tollitur, et lapis solutus calore in æs vertitur; and so forwards in that
chapter.
(11) So likewise in the person of Solomon the king, we see the gift or
endowment of wisdom and learning, both in Solomon’s petition and in
God’s assent thereunto, preferred before all other terrene and temporal
felicity. By virtue of which grant or donative of God Solomon became
enabled not only to write those excellent parables or aphorisms concerning
divine and moral philosophy, but also to compile a natural history of all
verdure, from the cedar upon the mountain to the moss upon the wall
(which is but a rudiment between putrefaction and an herb), and also of all
things that breathe or move. Nay, the same Solomon the king, although he
excelled in the glory of treasure and magnificent buildings, of shipping and
navigation, of service and attendance, of fame and renown, and the like, yet
he maketh no claim to any of those glories, but only to the glory of
inquisition of truth; for so he saith expressly, “The glory of God is to
conceal a thing, but the glory of the king is to find it out;” as if, according to
the innocent play of children, the Divine Majesty took delight to hide His
works, to the end to have them found out; and as if kings could not obtain a
greater honour than to be God’s playfellows in that game; considering the
great commandment of wits and means, whereby nothing needeth to be
hidden from them.
(12) Neither did the dispensation of God vary in the times after our Saviour
came into the world; for our Saviour himself did first show His power to
subdue ignorance, by His conference with the priests and doctors of the law,
before He showed His power to subdue nature by His miracles. And the
coming of this Holy Spirit was chiefly figured and expressed in the
similitude and gift of tongues, which are but vehicula scientiæ.
(13) So in the election of those instruments, which it pleased God to use for
the plantation of the faith, notwithstanding that at the first He did employ
persons altogether unlearned, otherwise than by inspiration, more evidently
to declare His immediate working, and to abase all human wisdom or
knowledge; yet nevertheless that counsel of His was no sooner performed,

but in the next vicissitude and succession He did send His divine truth into
the world, waited on with other learnings, as with servants or handmaids:
for so we see St. Paul, who was only learned amongst the Apostles, had his
pen most used in the Scriptures of the New Testament.
(14) So again we find that many of the ancient bishops and fathers of the
Church were excellently read and studied in all the learning of this heathen;
insomuch that the edict of the Emperor Julianus (whereby it was interdicted
unto Christians to be admitted into schools, lectures, or exercises of
learning) was esteemed and accounted a more pernicious engine and
machination against the Christian Faith than were all the sanguinary
prosecutions of his predecessors; neither could the emulation and jealousy
of Gregory, the first of that name, Bishop of Rome, ever obtain the opinion
of piety or devotion; but contrariwise received the censure of humour,
malignity, and pusillanimity, even amongst holy men; in that he designed to
obliterate and extinguish the memory of heathen antiquity and authors. But
contrariwise it was the Christian Church, which, amidst the inundations of
the Scythians on the one side from the north-west, and the Saracens from
the east, did preserve in the sacred lap and bosom thereof the precious relics
even of heathen learning, which otherwise had been extinguished, as if no
such thing had ever been.
(15) And we see before our eyes, that in the age of ourselves and our
fathers, when it pleased God to call the Church of Rome to account for their
degenerate manners and ceremonies, and sundry doctrines obnoxious and
framed to uphold the same abuses; at one and the same time it was ordained
by the Divine Providence that there should attend withal a renovation and
new spring of all other knowledges. And on the other side we see the
Jesuits, who partly in themselves, and partly by the emulation and
provocation of their example, have much quickened and strengthened the
state of learning; we see (I say) what notable service and reparation they
have done to the Roman see.
(16) Wherefore, to conclude this part, let it be observed, that there be two
principal duties and services, besides ornament and illustration, which
philosophy and human learning do perform to faith and religion. The one,
because they are an effectual inducement to the exaltation of the glory of
God. For as the Psalms and other Scriptures do often invite us to consider

and magnify the great and wonderful works of God, so if we should rest
only in the contemplation of the exterior of them as they first offer
themselves to our senses, we should do a like injury unto the majesty of
God, as if we should judge or construe of the store of some excellent
jeweller by that only which is set out toward the street in his shop. The
other, because they minister a singular help and preservative against
unbelief and error. For our Saviour saith, “You err, not knowing the
Scriptures, nor the power of God;” laying before us two books or volumes
to study, if we will be secured from error: first the Scriptures, revealing the
will of God, and then the creatures expressing His power; whereof the latter
is a key unto the former: not only opening our understanding to conceive
the true sense of the Scriptures by the general notions of reason and rules of
speech, but chiefly opening our belief, in drawing us into a due meditation
of the omnipotency of God, which is chiefly signed and engraven upon His
works. Thus much therefore for divine testimony and evidence concerning
the true dignity and value of learning.
VII. (1) As for human proofs, it is so large a field, as in a discourse of this
nature and brevity it is fit rather to use choice of those things which we
shall produce, than to embrace the variety of them. First, therefore, in the
degrees of human honour amongst the heathen, it was the highest to obtain
to a veneration and adoration as a God. This unto the Christians is as the
forbidden fruit. But we speak now separately of human testimony,
according to which—that which the Grecians call apotheosis, and the Latins
relatio inter divos—was the supreme honour which man could attribute
unto man, specially when it was given, not by a formal decree or act of state
(as it was used among the Roman Emperors), but by an inward assent and
belief. Which honour, being so high, had also a degree or middle term; for
there were reckoned above human honours, honours heroical and divine: in
the attribution and distribution of which honours we see antiquity made this
difference; that whereas founders and uniters of states and cities, lawgivers,
extirpers of tyrants, fathers of the people, and other eminent persons in civil
merit, were honoured but with the titles of worthies or demigods, such as
were Hercules, Theseus, Minus, Romulus, and the like; on the other side,
such as were inventors and authors of new arts, endowments, and
commodities towards man’s life, were ever consecrated amongst the gods
themselves, as was Ceres, Bacchus, Mercurius, Apollo, and others. And

justly; for the merit of the former is confined within the circle of an age or a
nation, and is like fruitful showers, which though they be profitable and
good, yet serve but for that season, and for a latitude of ground where they
fall; but the other is, indeed, like the benefits of heaven, which are
permanent and universal. The former again is mixed with strife and
perturbation, but the latter hath the true character of Divine Presence,
coming in aura leni, without noise or agitation.
(2) Neither is certainly that other merit of learning, in repressing the
inconveniences which grow from man to man, much inferior to the former,
of relieving the necessities which arise from nature, which merit was lively
set forth by the ancients in that feigned relation of Orpheus’ theatre, where
all beasts and birds assembled, and, forgetting their several appetites—some
of prey, some of game, some of quarrel—stood all sociably together
listening unto the airs and accords of the harp, the sound whereof no sooner
ceased, or was drowned by some louder noise, but every beast returned to
his own nature; wherein is aptly described the nature and condition of men,
who are full of savage and unreclaimed desires, of profit, of lust, of
revenge; which as long as they give ear to precepts, to laws, to religion,
sweetly touched with eloquence and persuasion of books, of sermons, of
harangues, so long is society and peace maintained; but if these instruments
be silent, or that sedition and tumult make them not audible, all things
dissolve into anarchy and confusion.
(3) But this appeareth more manifestly when kings themselves, or persons
of authority under them, or other governors in commonwealths and popular
estates, are endued with learning. For although he might be thought partial
to his own profession that said “Then should people and estates be happy
when either kings were philosophers, or philosophers kings;” yet so much is
verified by experience, that under learned princes and governors there have
been ever the best times: for howsoever kings may have their imperfections
in their passions and customs, yet, if they be illuminate by learning, they
have those notions of religion, policy, and morality, which do preserve them
and refrain them from all ruinous and peremptory errors and excesses,
whispering evermore in their ears, when counsellors and servants stand
mute and silent. And senators or counsellors, likewise, which be learned, to
proceed upon more safe and substantial principles, than counsellors which
are only men of experience; the one sort keeping dangers afar off, whereas

the other discover them not till they come near hand, and then trust to the
agility of their wit to ward or avoid them.
(4) Which felicity of times under learned princes (to keep still the law of
brevity, by using the most eminent and selected examples) doth best appear
in the age which passed from the death of Domitianus the emperor until the
reign of Commodus; comprehending a succession of six princes, all
learned, or singular favourers and advancers of learning, which age for
temporal respects was the most happy and flourishing that ever the Roman
Empire (which then was a model of the world) enjoyed—a matter revealed
and prefigured unto Domitian in a dream the night before he was slain: for
he thought there was grown behind upon his shoulders a neck and a head of
gold, which came accordingly to pass in those golden times which
succeeded; of which princes we will make some commemoration; wherein,
although the matter will be vulgar, and may be thought fitter for a
declamation than agreeable to a treatise infolded as this is, yet, because it is
pertinent to the point in hand—Neque semper arcum tendit Apollo—and to
name them only were too naked and cursory, I will not omit it altogether.
The first was Nerva, the excellent temper of whose government is by a
glance in Cornelius Tacitus touched to the life: Postquam divus Nerva res
oluim insociabiles miscuisset, imperium et libertatem. And in token of his
learning, the last act of his short reign left to memory was a missive to his
adopted son, Trajan, proceeding upon some inward discontent at the
ingratitude of the times, comprehended in a verse of Homer’s—

“Telis, Phœbe, tuis, lacrymas ulciscere nostras.”

(5) Trajan, who succeeded, was for his person not learned; but if we will
hearken to the speech of our Saviour, that saith, “He that receiveth a prophet
in the name of a prophet shall have a prophet’s reward,” he deserveth to be
placed amongst the most learned princes; for there was not a greater
admirer of learning or benefactor of learning, a founder of famous libraries,
a perpetual advancer of learned men to office, and familiar converser with
learned professors and preceptors who were noted to have then most credit
in court. On the other side how much Trajan’s virtue and government was
admired and renowned, surely no testimony of grave and faithful history
doth more lively set forth than that legend tale of Gregorius Magnum,
Bishop of Rome, who was noted for the extreme envy he bare towards all

heathen excellency; and yet he is reported, out of the love and estimation of
Trajan’s moral virtues, to have made unto God passionate and fervent
prayers for the delivery of his soul out of hell, and to have obtained it, with
a caveat that he should make no more such petitions. In this prince’s time
also the persecutions against the Christians received intermission upon the
certificate of Plinius Secundus, a man of excellent learning and by Trajan
advanced.
(6) Adrian, his successor, was the most curious man that lived, and the most
universal inquirer: insomuch as it was noted for an error in his mind that he
desired to comprehend all things, and not to reserve himself for the
worthiest things, falling into the like humour that was long before noted in
Philip of Macedon, who, when he would needs overrule and put down an
excellent musician in an argument touching music, was well answered by
him again—“God forbid, sir,” saith he, “that your fortune should be so bad
as to know these things better than I.” It pleased God likewise to use the
curiosity of this emperor as an inducement to the peace of His Church in
those days; for having Christ in veneration, not as a God or Saviour, but as
a wonder or novelty, and having his picture in his gallery matched with
Apollonius (with whom in his vain imagination he thought its had some
conformity), yet it served the turn to allay the bitter hatred of those times
against the Christian name, so as the Church had peace during his time.
And for his government civil, although he did not attain to that of Trajan’s
in glory of arms or perfection of justice, yet in deserving of the weal of the
subject he did exceed him. For Trajan erected many famous monuments
and buildings, insomuch as Constantine the Great in emulation was wont to
call him Parietaria, “wall-flower,” because his name was upon so many
walls; but his buildings and works were more of glory and triumph than use
and necessity. But Adrian spent his whole reign, which was peaceable, in a
perambulation or survey of the Roman Empire, giving order and making
assignation where he went for re-edifying of cities, towns, and forts
decayed, and for cutting of rivers and streams, and for making bridges and
passages, and for policing of cities and commonalties with new ordinances
and constitutions, and granting new franchises and incorporations; so that
his whole time was a very restoration of all the lapses and decays of former
times.

(7) Antoninus Pius, who succeeded him, was a prince excellently learned,
and had the patient and subtle wit of a schoolman, insomuch as in common
speech (which leaves no virtue untaxed) he was called Cymini Sector, a
carver or a divider of cummin seed, which is one of the least seeds. Such a
patience he had and settled spirit to enter into the least and most exact
differences of causes, a fruit no doubt of the exceeding tranquillity and
serenity of his mind, which being no ways charged or encumbered, either
with fears, remorses, or scruples, but having been noted for a man of the
purest goodness, without all fiction or affectation, that hath reigned or lived,
made his mind continually present and entire. He likewise approached a
degree nearer unto Christianity, and became, as Agrippa said unto St. Paul,
“half a Christian,” holding their religion and law in good opinion, and not
only ceasing persecution, but giving way to the advancement of Christians.
(5) There succeeded him the first Divi fratres, the two adoptive brethren—
Lucius Commodus Verus, son to Ælius Verus, who delighted much in the
softer kind of learning, and was wont to call the poet Martial his Virgil; and
Marcus Aurelius Antoninus: whereof the latter, who obscured his colleague
and survived him long, was named the “Philosopher,” who, as he excelled
all the rest in learning, so he excelled them likewise in perfection of all
royal virtues; insomuch as Julianus the emperor, in his book entitled
Cærsares, being as a pasquil or satire to deride all his predecessors, feigned
that they were all invited to a banquet of the gods, and Silenus the jester sat
at the nether end of the table and bestowed a scoff on everyone as they
came in; but when Marcus Philosophus came in, Silenus was gravelled and
out of countenance, not knowing where to carp at him, save at the last he
gave a glance at his patience towards his wife. And the virtue of this prince,
continued with that of his predecessor, made the name of Antoninus so
sacred in the world, that though it were extremely dishonoured in
Commodus, Caracalla, and Heliogabalus, who all bare the name, yet, when
Alexander Severus refused the name because he was a stranger to the
family, the Senate with one acclamation said, Quomodo Augustus, sic et
Antoninus. In such renown and veneration was the name of these two
princes in those days, that they would have had it as a perpetual addition in
all the emperors’ style. In this emperor’s time also the Church for the most
part was in peace; so as in this sequence of six princes we do see the

blessed effects of learning in sovereignty, painted forth in the greatest table
of the world.
(9) But for a tablet or picture of smaller volume (not presuming to speak of
your Majesty that liveth), in my judgment the most excellent is that of
Queen Elizabeth, your immediate predecessor in this part of Britain; a
prince that, if Plutarch were now alive to write lives by parallels, would
trouble him, I think, to find for her a parallel amongst women. This lady
was endued with learning in her sex singular, and rare even amongst
masculine princes—whether we speak of learning, of language, or of
science, modern or ancient, divinity or humanity—and unto the very last
year of her life she accustomed to appoint set hours for reading, scarcely
any young student in a university more daily or more duly. As for her
government, I assure myself (I shall not exceed if I do affirm) that this part
of the island never had forty-five years of better tines, and yet not through
the calmness of the season, but through the wisdom of her regiment. For if
there be considered, of the one side, the truth of religion established, the
constant peace and security, the good administration of justice, the
temperate use of the prerogative, not slackened, nor much strained; the
flourishing state of learning, sortable to so excellent a patroness; the
convenient estate of wealth and means, both of crown and subject; the habit
of obedience, and the moderation of discontents; and there be considered,
on the other side, the differences of religion, the troubles of neighbour
countries, the ambition of Spain, and opposition of Rome, and then that she
was solitary and of herself; these things, I say, considered, as I could not
have chosen an instance so recent and so proper, so I suppose I could not
have chosen one more remarkable or eminent to the purpose now in hand,
which is concerning the conjunction of learning in the prince with felicity in
the people.
(10) Neither hath learning an influence and operation only upon civil merit
and moral virtue, and the arts or temperature of peace and peaceable
government; but likewise it hath no less power and efficacy in enablement
towards martial and military virtue and prowess, as may be notably
represented in the examples of Alexander the Great and Cæsar the Dictator
(mentioned before, but now in fit place to be resumed), of whose virtues
and acts in war there needs no note or recital, having been the wonders of

time in that kind; but of their affections towards learning and perfections in
learning it is pertinent to say somewhat.
(11) Alexander was bred and taught under Aristotle, the great philosopher,
who dedicated divers of his books of philosophy unto him; he was attended
with Callisthenes and divers other learned persons, that followed him in
camp, throughout his journeys and conquests. What price and estimation he
had learning in doth notably appear in these three particulars: first, in the
envy he used to express that he bare towards Achilles, in this, that he had so
good a trumpet of his praises as Homer’s verses; secondly, in the judgment
or solution he gave touching that precious cabinet of Darius, which was
found among his jewels (whereof question was made what thing was
worthy to be put into it, and he gave his opinion for Homer’s works);
thirdly, in his letter to Aristotle, after he had set forth his books of nature,
wherein he expostulateth with him for publishing the secrets or mysteries of
philosophy; and gave him to understand that himself esteemed it more to
excel other men in learning and knowledge than in power and empire. And
what use he had of learning doth appear, or rather shine, in all his speeches
and answers, being full of science and use of science, and that in all variety.
(12) And herein again it may seem a thing scholastical, and somewhat idle
to recite things that every man knoweth; but yet, since the argument I
handle leadeth me thereunto, I am glad that men shall perceive I am as
willing to flatter (if they will so call it) an Alexander, or a Cæsar, or an
Antoninus, that are dead many hundred years since, as any that now liveth;
for it is the displaying of the glory of learning in sovereignty that I
propound to myself, and not a humour of declaiming in any man’s praises.
Observe, then, the speech he used of Diogenes, and see if it tend not to the
true state of one of the greatest questions of moral philosophy: whether the
enjoying of outward things, or the contemning of them, be the greatest
happiness; for when he saw Diogenes so perfectly contented with so little,
he said to those that mocked at his condition, “were I not Alexander, I
would wish to be Diogenes.” But Seneca inverteth it, and saith, “Plus erat,
quod hic nollet accipere, quàm quod ille posset dare.” There were more
things which Diogenes would have refused than those were which
Alexander could have given or enjoyed.

(13) Observe, again, that speech which was usual with him,—“That he felt
his mortality chiefly in two things, sleep and lust;” and see if it were not a
speech extracted out of the depth of natural philosophy, and liker to have
come out of the mouth of Aristotle or Democritus than from Alexander.
(14) See, again, that speech of humanity and poesy, when, upon the
bleeding of his wounds, he called unto him one of his flatterers, that was
wont to ascribe to him divine honour, and said, “Look, this is very blood;
this is not such a liquor as Homer speaketh of, which ran from Venus’ hand
when it was pierced by Diomedes.”
(15) See likewise his readiness in reprehension of logic in the speech he
used to Cassander, upon a complaint that was made against his father
Antipater; for when Alexander happened to say, “Do you think these men
would have come from so far to complain except they had just cause of
grief?” and Cassander answered, “Yea, that was the matter, because they
thought they should not be disproved;” said Alexander, laughing, “See the
subtleties of Aristotle, to take a matter both ways, pro et contra, &c.”
(16) But note, again, how well he could use the same art which he
reprehended to serve his own humour: when bearing a secret grudge to
Callisthenes, because he was against the new ceremony of his adoration,
feasting one night where the same Callisthenes was at the table, it was
moved by some after supper, for entertainment sake, that Callisthenes, who
was an eloquent man, might speak of some theme or purpose at his own
choice; which Callisthenes did, choosing the praise of the Macedonian
nation for his discourse, and performing the same with so good manner as
the hearers were much ravished; whereupon Alexander, nothing pleased,
said, “It was easy to be eloquent upon so good a subject; but,” saith he,
“turn your style, and let us hear what you can say against us;” which
Callisthenes presently undertook, and did with that sting and life that
Alexander interrupted him, and said, “The goodness of the cause made him
eloquent before, and despite made him eloquent then again.”
(17) Consider further, for tropes of rhetoric, that excellent use of a metaphor
or translation, wherewith he taxeth Antipater, who was an imperious and
tyrannous governor; for when one of Antipater’s friends commended him to
Alexander for his moderation, that he did not degenerate as his other

lieutenants did into the Persian pride, in uses of purple, but kept the ancient
habit of Macedon, of black. “True,” saith Alexander; “but Antipater is all
purple within.” Or that other, when Parmenio came to him in the plain of
Arbela and showed him the innumerable multitude of his enemies, specially
as they appeared by the infinite number of lights as it had been a new
firmament of stars, and thereupon advised him to assail them by night;
whereupon he answered, “That he would not steal the victory.”
(18) For matter of policy, weigh that significant distinction, so much in all
ages embraced, that he made between his two friends Hephæstion and
Craterus, when he said, “That the one loved Alexander, and the other loved
the king:” describing the principal difference of princes’ best servants, that
some in affection love their person, and other in duty love their crown.
(19) Weigh also that excellent taxation of an error, ordinary with
counsellors of princes, that they counsel their masters according to the
model of their own mind and fortune, and not of their masters. When upon
Darius’ great offers Parmenio had said, “Surely I would accept these offers
were I as Alexander;” saith Alexander, “So would I were I as Parmenio.”
(20) Lastly, weigh that quick and acute reply which he made when he gave
so large gifts to his friends and servants, and was asked what he did reserve
for himself, and he answered, “Hope.” Weigh, I say, whether he had not
cast up his account aright, because hope must be the portion of all that
resolve upon great enterprises; for this was Cæsar’s portion when he went
first into Gaul, his estate being then utterly overthrown with largesses. And
this was likewise the portion of that noble prince, howsoever transported
with ambition, Henry Duke of Guise, of whom it was usually said that he
was the greatest usurer in France, because he had turned all his estate into
obligations.
(21) To conclude, therefore, as certain critics are used to say hyperbolically,
“That if all sciences were lost they might be found in Virgil,” so certainly
this may be said truly, there are the prints and footsteps of learning in those
few speeches which are reported of this prince, the admiration of whom,
when I consider him not as Alexander the Great, but as Aristotle’s scholar,
hath carried me too far.

(22) As for Julius Cæsar, the excellency of his learning needeth not to be
argued from his education, or his company, or his speeches; but in a further
degree doth declare itself in his writings and works: whereof some are
extant and permanent, and some unfortunately perished. For first, we see
there is left unto us that excellent history of his own wars, which he entitled
only a Commentary, wherein all succeeding times have admired the solid
weight of matter, and the real passages and lively images of actions and
persons, expressed in the greatest propriety of words and perspicuity of
narration that ever was; which that it was not the effect of a natural gift, but
of learning and precept, is well witnessed by that work of his entitled De
Analogia, being a grammatical philosophy, wherein he did labour to make
this same Vox ad placitum to become Vox ad licitum, and to reduce custom
of speech to congruity of speech; and took as it were the pictures of words
from the life of reason.
(23) So we receive from him, as a monument both of his power and
learning, the then reformed computation of the year; well expressing that he
took it to be as great a glory to himself to observe and know the law of the
heavens, as to give law to men upon the earth.
(24) So likewise in that book of his, Anti-Cato, it may easily appear that he
did aspire as well to victory of wit as victory of war: undertaking therein a
conflict against the greatest champion with the pen that then lived, Cicero
the orator.
(25) So, again, in his book of Apophthegms, which he collected, we see that
he esteemed it more honour to make himself but a pair of tables, to take the
wise and pithy words of others, than to have every word of his own to be
made an apophthegm or an oracle, as vain princes, by custom of flattery,
pretend to do. And yet if I should enumerate divers of his speeches, as I did
those of Alexander, they are truly such as Solomon noteth, when he saith,
Verba sapientum tanquam aculei, et tanquam clavi in altum defixi: whereof
I will only recite three, not so delectable for elegancy, but admirable for
vigour and efficacy.
(26) As first, it is reason he be thought a master of words, that could with
one word appease a mutiny in his army, which was thus: The Romans,
when their generals did speak to their army, did use the word Milites, but

when the magistrates spake to the people they did use the word Quirites.
The soldiers were in tumult, and seditiously prayed to be cashiered; not that
they so meant, but by expostulation thereof to draw Cæsar to other
conditions; wherein he being resolute not to give way, after some silence,
he began his speech, Ego Quirites, which did admit them already cashiered
—wherewith they were so surprised, crossed, and confused, as they would
not suffer him to go on in his speech, but relinquished their demands, and
made it their suit to be again called by the name of Milites.
(27) The second speech was thus: Cæsar did extremely affect the name of
king; and some were set on as he passed by in popular acclamation to salute
him king. Whereupon, finding the cry weak and poor, he put it off thus, in a
kind of jest, as if they had mistaken his surname: Non Rex sum, sed Cæsar;
a speech that, if it be searched, the life and fulness of it can scarce be
expressed. For, first, it was a refusal of the name, but yet not serious; again,
it did signify an infinite confidence and magnanimity, as if he presumed
Cæsar was the greater title, as by his worthiness it is come to pass till this
day. But chiefly it was a speech of great allurement toward his own
purpose, as if the state did strive with him but for a name, whereof mean
families were vested; for Rex was a surname with the Romans, as well as
King is with us.
(28) The last speech which I will mention was used to Metellus, when
Cæsar, after war declared, did possess himself of this city of Rome; at
which time, entering into the inner treasury to take the money there
accumulate, Metellus, being tribune, forbade him. Whereto Cæsar said,
“That if he did not desist, he would lay him dead in the place.” And
presently taking himself up, he added, “Young man, it is harder for me to
speak it than to do it—Adolescens, durius est mihi hoc dicere quàm
facere.” A speech compounded of the greatest terror and greatest clemency
that could proceed out of the mouth of man.
(29) But to return and conclude with him, it is evident himself knew well
his own perfection in learning, and took it upon him, as appeared when
upon occasion that some spake what a strange resolution it was in Lucius
Sylla to resign his dictators, he, scoffing at him to his own advantage,
answered, “That Sylla could not skill of letters, and therefore knew not how
to dictate.”

(30) And here it were fit to leave this point, touching the concurrence of
military virtue and learning (for what example should come with any grace
after those two of Alexander and Cæsar?), were it not in regard of the
rareness of circumstance, that I find in one other particular, as that which
did so suddenly pass from extreme scorn to extreme wonder: and it is of
Xenophon the philosopher, who went from Socrates’ school into Asia in the
expedition of Cyrus the younger against King Artaxerxes. This Xenophon
at that time was very young, and never had seen the wars before, neither
had any command in the army, but only followed the war as a voluntary, for
the love and conversation of Proxenus, his friend. He was present when
Falinus came in message from the great king to the Grecians, after that
Cyrus was slain in the field, and they, a handful of men, left to themselves
in the midst of the king’s territories, cut off from their country by many
navigable rivers and many hundred miles. The message imported that they
should deliver up their arms and submit themselves to the king’s mercy. To
which message, before answer was made, divers of the army conferred
familiarly with Falinus; and amongst the rest Xenophon happened to say,
“Why, Falinus, we have now but these two things left, our arms and our
virtue; and if we yield up our arms, how shall we make use of our virtue?”
Whereto Falinus, smiling on him, said, “If I be not deceived, young
gentleman, you are an Athenian, and I believe you study philosophy, and it
is pretty that you say; but you are much abused if you think your virtue can
withstand the king’s power.” Here was the scorn; the wonder followed:
which was that this young scholar or philosopher, after all the captains were
murdered in parley by treason, conducted those ten thousand foot, through
the heart of all the king’s high countries, from Babylon to Græcia in safety,
in despite of all the king’s forces, to the astonishment of the world, and the
encouragement of the Grecians in times succeeding to make invasion upon
the kings of Persia, as was after purposed by Jason the Thessalian,
attempted by Agesilaus the Spartan, and achieved by Alexander the
Macedonian, all upon the ground of the act of that young scholar.
VIII. (1) To proceed now from imperial and military virtue to moral and
private virtue; first, it is an assured truth, which is contained in the verses:
—

“Scilicet ingenuas didicisse fideliter artes
Emollit mores nec sinit esse feros.”

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

“Felix, qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas,
Quique metus omnes, et inexorabile fatum
Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari.”

(2) It were too long to go over the particular remedies which learning doth
minister to all the diseases of the mind: sometimes purging the ill humours,
sometimes opening the obstructions, sometimes helping digestion,
sometimes increasing appetite, sometimes healing the wounds and
exulcerations thereof, and the like; and, therefore, I will conclude with that
which hath rationem totius—which is, that it disposeth the constitution of
the mind not to be fixed or settled in the defects thereof, but still to be
capable and susceptible of growth and reformation. For the unlearned man
knows not what it is to descend into himself, or to call himself to account,
nor the pleasure of that suavissima vita, indies sentire se fieri meliorem.
The good parts he hath he will learn to show to the full, and use them
dexterously, but not much to increase them. The faults he hath he will learn
how to hide and colour them, but not much to amend them; like an ill
mower, that mows on still, and never whets his scythe. Whereas with the
learned man it fares otherwise, that he doth ever intermix the correction and
amendment of his mind with the use and employment thereof. Nay, further,
in general and in sum, certain it is that Veritas and Bonitas differ but as the
seal and the print; for truth prints goodness, and they be the clouds of error
which descend in the storms of passions and perturbations.
(3) From moral virtue let us pass on to matter of power and commandment,
and consider whether in right reason there be any comparable with that
wherewith knowledge investeth and crowneth man’s nature. We see the
dignity of the commandment is according to the dignity of the commanded;
to have commandment over beasts as herdmen have, is a thing
contemptible; to have commandment over children as schoolmasters have,
is a matter of small honour; to have commandment over galley-slaves is a
disparagement rather than an honour. Neither is the commandment of
tyrants much better, over people which have put off the generosity of their
minds; and, therefore, it was ever holden that honours in free monarchies
and commonwealths had a sweetness more than in tyrannies, because the
commandment extendeth more over the wills of men, and not only over
their deeds and services. And therefore, when Virgil putteth himself forth to
attribute to Augustus Cæsar the best of human honours, he doth it in these
words:—

“Victorque volentes
Per populos dat jura, viamque affectat Olympo.”

But yet the commandment of knowledge is yet higher than the
commandment over the will; for it is a commandment over the reason,
belief, and understanding of man, which is the highest part of the mind, and
giveth law to the will itself. For there is no power on earth which setteth up
a throne or chair of estate in the spirits and souls of men, and in their
cogitations, imaginations, opinions, and beliefs, but knowledge and
learning. And therefore we see the detestable and extreme pleasure that
arch-heretics, and false prophets, and impostors are transported with, when
they once find in themselves that they have a superiority in the faith and
conscience of men; so great as if they have once tasted of it, it is seldom
seen that any torture or persecution can make them relinquish or abandon
it. But as this is that which the author of the Revelation calleth the depth or
profoundness of Satan, so by argument of contraries, the just and lawful
sovereignty over men’s understanding, by force of truth rightly interpreted,
is that which approacheth nearest to the similitude of the divine rule.
(4) As for fortune and advancement, the beneficence of learning is not so
confined to give fortune only to states and commonwealths, as it doth not
likewise give fortune to particular persons. For it was well noted long ago,
that Homer hath given more men their livings, than either Sylla, or Cæsar,
or Augustus ever did, notwithstanding their great largesses and donatives,
and distributions of lands to so many legions. And no doubt it is hard to say
whether arms or learning have advanced greater numbers. And in case of
sovereignty we see, that if arms or descent have carried away the kingdom,
yet learning hath carried the priesthood, which ever hath been in some
competition with empire.
(5) Again, for the pleasure and delight of knowledge and learning, it far
surpasseth all other in nature. For, shall the pleasures of the affections so
exceed the pleasure of the sense, as much as the obtaining of desire or
victory exceedeth a song or a dinner? and must not of consequence the
pleasures of the intellect or understanding exceed the pleasures of the
affections? We see in all other pleasures there is satiety, and after they be
used, their verdure departeth, which showeth well they be but deceits of
pleasure, and not pleasures; and that it was the novelty which pleased, and
not the quality. And, therefore, we see that voluptuous men turn friars, and
ambitions princes turn melancholy. But of knowledge there is no satiety,
but satisfaction and appetite are perpetually interchangeable; and, therefore,

appeareth to be good in itself simply, without fallacy or accident. Neither is
that pleasure of small efficacy and contentment to the mind of man, which
the poet Lucretius describeth elegantly:—

“Suave mari magno, turbantibus æquora ventis, &c.”

“It is a view of delight,” saith he, “to stand or walk upon the shore side, and
to see a ship tossed with tempest upon the sea; or to be in a fortified tower,
and to see two battles join upon a plain. But it is a pleasure incomparable,
for the mind of man to be settled, landed, and fortified in the certainty of
truth; and from thence to descry and behold the errors, perturbations,
labours, and wanderings up and down of other men.”
(6) Lastly, leaving the vulgar arguments, that by learning man excelleth
man in that wherein man excelleth beasts; that by learning man ascendeth to
the heavens and their motions, where in body he cannot come; and the like:
let us conclude with the dignity and excellency of knowledge and learning
in that whereunto man’s nature doth most aspire, which is immortality, or
continuance; for to this tendeth generation, and raising of houses and
families; to this tend buildings, foundations, and monuments; to this tendeth
the desire of memory, fame, and celebration; and in effect the strength of all
other human desires. We see then how far the monuments of wit and
learning are more durable than the monuments of power or of the hands.
For have not the verses of Homer continued twenty-five hundred years, or
more, without the loss of a syllable or letter; during which the infinite
palaces, temples, castles, cities, have been decayed and demolished? It is
not possible to have the true pictures or statues of Cyrus, Alexander, Cæsar,
no nor of the kings or great personages of much later years; for the originals
cannot last, and the copies cannot but leese of the life and truth. But the
images of men’s wits and knowledges remain in books, exempted from the
wrong of time and capable of perpetual renovation. Neither are they fitly to
be called images, because they generate still, and cast their seeds in the
minds of others, provoking and causing infinite actions and opinions in
succeeding ages. So that if the invention of the ship was thought so noble,
which carrieth riches and commodities from place to place, and
consociateth the most remote regions in participation of their fruits, how
much more are letters to be magnified, which as ships pass through the vast
seas of time, and make ages so distant to participate of the wisdom,

illuminations, and inventions, the one of the other? Nay, further, we see
some of the philosophers which were least divine, and most immersed in
the senses, and denied generally the immortality of the soul, yet came to
this point, that whatsoever motions the spirit of man could act and perform
without the organs of the body, they thought might remain after death,
which were only those of the understanding and not of the affection; so
immortal and incorruptible a thing did knowledge seem unto them to be.
But we, that know by divine revelation that not only the understanding but
the affections purified, not only the spirit but the body changed, shall be
advanced to immortality, do disclaim in these rudiments of the senses. But
it must be remembered, both in this last point, and so it may likewise be
needful in other places, that in probation of the dignity of knowledge or
learning, I did in the beginning separate divine testimony from human,
which method I have pursued, and so handled them both apart.
(7) Nevertheless I do not pretend, and I know it will be impossible for me,
by any pleading of mine, to reverse the judgment, either of Æsop’s cock,
that preferred the barleycorn before the gem; or of Midas, that being chosen
judge between Apollo, president of the Muses, and Pan, god of the flocks,
judged for plenty; or of Paris, that judged for beauty and love against
wisdom and power; or of Agrippina, occidat matrem, modo imperet, that
preferred empire with any condition never so detestable; or of Ulysses, qui
vetulam prætulit immortalitati, being a figure of those which prefer custom
and habit before all excellency, or of a number of the like popular
judgments. For these things must continue as they have been; but so will
that also continue whereupon learning hath ever relied, and which faileth
not: Justificata est sapientia a filiis suis.

THE SECOND BOOK.

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,

“Felix doctrinæ prædo.”

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:—

“Vino torus et ira.”

And experience showeth there are few men so true to themselves and so
settled but that, sometimes upon heat, sometimes upon bravery, sometimes
upon kindness, sometimes upon trouble of mind and 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.

FOOTNOTES.

[39] Stoops in the rice and takes the speeding gold. Ovid. Metam, x. 667.

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