Class BACON'S ESSAYS ANNOTATIONS By RICHARD WHATELY, D.D. ^ Notes ant) a ©lossari'al Eutici By franklin FISKE HEARD :/■•>, '^. ^■■■J^ ^o,yr~'-r%<-. ■ -■ BOSTON LEE AND SHEPARD 1868 b rV ^ Entered according to Act of Congress, in the year 18G7, by LEE AND SHEPARD, in the Clerk's OfBce of the District Court for the District of Massaclmsetts cambkidge: press of john wilson and son. Crescit occulto velut arbor aevo FA:\rA Baconis. HoR. Carm. I. 12, 45. *' Those two incomparable men, the Prince of Poets and the Prince of Philosopliers, who made the Elizabethan age a more glorious and important era in the history of the human mind than the age of Pericles, of Augustus, or of Leo." — Lord Macaulay. Essay on Burleigh and His Times Works, V. 61], ed. Trevelyan. (.. FRANCIS BACON. Born 22 Jan. LOGO- 61 Matriculated at Trinity CoUcige, Cambridge . . . . 10 June lo73 . Admitted at Gray's Inn 21 Nov. 1576 First sat in the House of Commons as Member for Melcombe 1584 ; flighted by James 1 23 July 1603 'iang's Counsel 25 Aug. 1604 )olicitor General 25 June 1607 Utorney General 27 Oct. 1G13 ?rivy Councillor 9 June 1616 Lord Keeper 3 March 1616 - 17 Lord High Chancellor 4 Jan. 1618-19 Baron Verulam Jnly 1619 Viscount St. Albans 27 Jan. 1620-21 Sentenced by the House of Lords 3 May 1621 Died ' 9 April 1626 PKEFACE TO THIS EDITION. FT is remarkable that as " the golden meditations which Lord Bacon called Essays " were the ear- |/ |iest of his publications, so the revision and augmen- tation of them was his latest literary labor. The first edition was printed early in 1597; the last which \ Baeon gave to the world was published in 1625, the viar before his death. ^ I Among the innumerable editions of the Essays that have been published, there are only four w^hich, as authorities for the text, have any original or independent value ; namely those published by Lord Bacon himself in 1597, in 1612, and in 1625; and the Latin version ])ublished by Dr. Rawley in 1638. The rest are merely reprints of one or other of these. The edition of 1597 contained ten Essays, together with the " Meditation es Sacrte," and the " Colours of (rood and Evil." That of 1612, a small volume in 1 The first edition published in this country was printed by William Bradford ill 1688, and was the earliest volume issuj\ lated ten copies of the edition of 162-5, " which, though bearing the same da;, are all different from each other in points of no great importance." And . . the Appendix to the Notes he adds ; " The cause of these differences it is not difficult to cohjecture. Corrections were made while the sheets were be- ing printed off, and the corrected and uncorrected sheets were bound up in'is criminately. In this way the number of different copies might be multipl:. f; to any extent. Instances occur in which a sheet appears in three differeu; stages: one with two errata on one page, a second with one of the errata corrected, and a third with both corrected." See also Mr. Spedding's noti- Bacon's Works, VI. 517. PREFACE. IX aken his merits on trust to judge for themselves ; !( the great body of readers have, during several gen- •a ions, acknowledged that the man who has treated .vi\,h such consummate ability questions with which they •ri) familiar may well be sup])osr'd to deserve all th wise bestowed on him by tuiso who have sat in hi acr school."^ In 1849 Archbishop Whately wrote : " I am shioned enough to admire Bacon, whose remark ken in and assented to by persons of ordinary iy, and seem nothing very profound ; but when a omes to reflect and observe, and his faculties enlai lie then sees more in them than he did at fii'st, a ' \ore still as he advances further ; his admiration %con's profundity increasing as he himself gro^ /itellectually. Bacon's wisdom m like the seven-lea^ > ts, which would iit the giant or the dwarf, exc that the dwari cannot take the same stride 1." 2 5acon was not mistaken in his own estimation of Essays. In his Dedicarion of the edition of 1625 says, " I do now publish my Essays, which of all other works have been most current. For that, • seems, they come home to men's business and boso hiive enlarged them both in number and wei«-ht • 1 "His books will ever survive; in the reading whereof modest men . ■l"d . T y V"? '"' ^"'^'^™" ^'^^'"^^"-^« - -'^^' they do n^u, ■ and a.s behevm. the fault in their own eyes ..d not in the object."_FoT ' •'"'•'^A //„to-y ( ic -,G) V. 493, ed. Oxford 1345. ^ Life and Correspondence (London 1866) II. 15t. X . PREFACE. that they are indeed a new work. I thou^lit it fore agreeable to my affection and obligation, to j )u. Grace, to prefix your name before them, both in Eng isj md in Latin. For I do conceive that the Latin volura ^them (being in the universal language) may last a- mg as books last." The letter to Dr. Andrews, Bishop of Winchester, catoj-y to " An Advertisement touching an Holy ' (1622) contains the fullest account of Bacou'e IS as a writer which we have from his own pcu. Tites : "As for my Essays, and some other particvi- i of that nature, I count them but as the recreation my other studies, and in that sort purpose to continiic 3m ; though I am not ignorant that those kind of citings would with less pains and embracement (per • )s) yield more lustre and reputation unto my name^J n those other which I have in hand. But I account use that a man should seek of the publishing of his 1 writings before his death to be but an untimely cipation of that which is proper to follow a man, not go along with him." )f the translation of the Essays into Latin, Bacon ; speaks in a letter to Mr. Toby Matthew, written .xrently about the end of June 1623: "It Is true labours are now most set to have .those Works Ich I have formerly published, as that of ' Advance- int of Learning,' that of ' Henry VH.,' tlxat of the ssays,' being retractate and made more perfect, well aslated into Latin by the help of some good pen clJ forsake me not. For these modern languar , at one time or other, play the bankrupt with book I PREFACE. XI •id since i have lost much time with this age, I would / ) 2. glad, as God shall give me leave, to recover it with isteritv." " The essayist does not usually appear early in the ]d iicerary history of a country," wrote a charming essay- ■^ ist: ^ -'he comes naturally after the poet and the chron- i/ icier. His habit of mind is leisurely ; he does not ■ write from any special stress of passionate impulse ; he does not create material so much as he comments upon material already existing. It is essential for him ;it books should have been written, and that they :ould at least to some extent, have been read and i'-est(«i. He is usually full of allusions and refer- 'ces, an- 1 these his reader must be able to follow and iilerstand. And in this literary walk, as in most ;'iers, the giants came first. Montaigne and Bacon vere our earliest essayists, and as yet they are our best. \\\\ point of style, these Essays are different from any Idling that could now be produced. Not only is the ■thinking different : the manner of setting forth the think- {\^ is different also. We despair of reaching the thought, vc despair equally of reaching the language. We can ore bring back their turns of sentence than we can back their tournaments. Montaigne, in his serious >. has a curiously rich and intricate eloquence ; and ii's sentence bends beneath the weight of his ht. like a branch beneath the weight of its fruit. 1 The late Alexanrler Smith. XU PREFACE. Bacon seems to have written his Essays with Shake- speare's pen. Jle writes like one on whom presses the weight of affairs, and he approaches a subject always on its serious side. He does not play with it fantastically. He lives among great ideas, as with great nobles, with whom he dare not be too familiar. In the ione of his mind there is ever something imperial. AVhen he writes on building, he speaks of a palace, with spacious en- trances and courts and banqueting-halls : when he writes on gardens, he speaks of alleys and mounts, waste places and fountains, of a garden ' which is indeed prince-like.' To read over his table of contents is like reading over a roll of peers' names. We have them as they stand, — Essays treating ' Of Great ]i< • . . ' Of Boldness,' ' Of Goodness, and Goodness of Ni . ' Of Nobility,' ' Of Seditions and Troubles,' ' Of . ^ ism,' ' Of Superstition,' ' Of Travel,' ' Of Empire. Counsel,' — a book plainly to lie in the closets of s men and princes, and designed to nurture the ni natures." In writing the Notes, I have made free use o late Mr. Singer s and Mr. Wright's elegant editioi the Essays, and of the great Ellis, Spedding, and I I edition of Bacon's Works, London 1857-1859, pr ! and noted with exquisite taste and profound learniii Boston, June 18G7. PREFACE. TTAYING been accustomed to write down, from time to -^ time, such observations as occurred to me on several of Bacon's Essays, and also to make references to passages in various books which relate to the same subjects, I have been induced to lay the whole before the Public in an edition of these Essays, And in this I have availed myself of 'the assistance of a friend, who, besides offering several valuable suggestions, kindly undertook the task of revising and arrang- ing the loose notes I had written down, and adding, in foot- notes, explanations of obsolete words and phrases. These notes are calculated, I think, to throw light on the language no*-' nly of Bacon's Essays, but also of our Authorized Version of the Scriptures, which belongs to the same Age. TJiere are, in that language, besides some few words that are now wholly obsolete, many times more (as is remarked in the 'Annotations' on Essay XXIY.), which are now as commonly in use as ever, but with a change in their meaning, which makes them far more likely to mislead than those quite obsolete. In order to guard against the imputation of presumption in venturino; to make additions to what Bacon lias said on several subjects, it is necessary to call attention to the circumstance that the word ESSAY has been considerably changed in its application since the days of Bacon. By an Essay was origi- nally meant — according to the obvious and natural sense of the word — a sliglit sketch, to be filled up by the reader; brief hints, designed to be followed out; loose thoughts on some subjects, thrown out without much regularity, but sufficient to suggest furtlier inquiries and reflections. Any more elaborate? regular, and finished composition, such as, in our days, o^en bears the title of an Essay, our ancestors called a treatise^ trac- tate, dis-seriution, or discourse. But the more unpretending title rjvI'TA-OB. • Essay' lias in great measure superseded those others which vvere tbrnierlj in use, and more strictly appropriate. I have adverted to i his circumstance because it ought to he | remembered, that an Essay, in the original and strict sense of \i the woi-d, — an Essay sucli as Bacon's, and also Montaigne's, — was designed to be suggestive of further i-emarks and rellectic*ns, and, in short, to set the reader a-tliinki7ig on the subject. It consisted of observations loosely thrown out, as in conversaMon ; and inviting, as in conversation, the observations of others on the subject. With an Essay, in the modern sense of the word, it is not so. If the reader of what was designed to be a regular and complete treatise on some subject (and which would have been so entitled by our forefathers) nuikes additional remarks on 'hat subject, he may be undei'siood to imply that thei'e is a deficiency and impeifection — a something locmimg — in the woi'k before him ; whereas, lo suggest such further remarks — to give outlines that the reader shall till up for himself — is the vei"3' object of an Essa}', projjeily so called — such as tlK)se of Bacon. A commentary to explain or correct, few writings need less: but they admit of, and call for, expansion and de- velopment. They are gold ingots, not needing to be gilt or polished, but requiring to be hammered out in order to display their full value. lie is, throughout, and especially in his Essays, one of the most suggestive authors that ever wrote. And it is remarkable that, compi-essed and pithy as the Essays are, and consisting chieriy of brief hints, he has elsewhere condensed into a still smaller compass the matter of most of them. In his Rhetoric he has drawn up what he calls ' Antitheta,' or common-places, 'locos,' i.e.^ pros and- C07is, — opposite sentiments and reasons, on various points, most of them the same that are discussed in the Essays. It is a compendious and clear mode of bringing before the mind the most important points in any question, to ])lace in parallel cohn^ns, as Bacon has done, whatever can be plausibly urged, fairly or unfairly, on oi)posite sides ; and then you are in the condition of a judge who has to decide some cause after PREFACE. XV having heard all the pleadings. I have accordingly appended to most of the Essays some of Bacon's ' Antitheta' on the same subjects. (Several of tliese 'Antitheta' were either adopted hy Bacou from proverbial use, or have (through him) become Proverbs.* And, accordingly, I i)relixed a brief remark (which 1 liere in- sert) to the selection from Bacon's 'Antitheta' a})pended to the Ekmtnis of Rhetoric. For, all the writers on the subject that I have met with (several of them learned, ingenious, and enter- taining) have almost entirely overlooked what appears to me the real character, and pi-oi)er othce, oi Proverls. 'Consideiing that Proverbs have been current in all ages and countries, it is a curious circumstance that so much ditfer- ence of opinion should exist as to the utility, and as to the design of them. Some are accustomed to speak as if Proverbs coniained a sort of concentrated essence of the wisdom of all Ages, which will enable any one to judge and act aright on every emei-gency. Others, on the contrary, represent them as fit only to furnish occasionally a motto for a book, a theme for a school-boy's exercise, or a copy for children learning to write. ' To me, both these opinions appear erroneous. 'That Proverbs ai-e not generally regarded, by those who us^ them, as, necessarily, propositions of universal and acknowl edged truth, like mathematical axioms, is plain tVoin the circumstance that many of those most in use are — like these common-i)laces of l^'AQ,im— opposed to each other; as, e. g.^ 'Take care of the pence, and tlie pounds will take care of theip- selves;' to ' Be not penny-wise and pound-foolish;' and again, 'The more haste, the worse speed;' or, 'Wait awhile, that we ' Tliere is appended to Prof. Sullivnii's Spell'mg-hook mperxeded, a collection (•which is also piihli.^hed separate) ofViiovERBS for Copn-liiies. with sii^vt explnnfa- iions annexed, for the use of young people. As a cliild can haidly fail to learn by heart, without effort or design, words which he has written, over and over, as ail exercise in penmanship, if these words contain something worth remembering this is so much clear gain. XVI PREFACE. may make an end the sooner;' to 'Take time by the forelock,' or, 'Time and tide for no man bide,' etc. 'It seems, I think, to be practically understood, that a Prov- erb is merely a compendious exp^'ession of soiTie pi'incii)le, which will usually be, in diiferent cases, and with or without certain modifications, true or false, a])plicable or inap})licable. When, then, a Proverb is introduced, the si)eaker usually em- ploys it as a Major-premise^ and is undei'stood to iniply, as a Minor^ that the principle thus referred to is applicable in the existing case. And what is gained by the employment of the Proverb, is, that his judgment, and his reason for it, are con- veyed — tlirough the use of a well-known form of expression, cleai'Iy, and at the same time in an incomparably shorter space^ than if he had had to explain his meaning in expressions framed for the occasion. And the brevity thus obtained is often still further increased by suppressing the full statement even of the very Proverb itself, if a very common one, and mei'elv alludinrj to it in a woi-d or two. 'Proverbs, accordingly, are somewhat analogous to those medical Formulas which, being in frequent use, are kept ready- made-up in the chemists' shops, and which often save the franiing of a distinct Prescription. And the usefulness of this brevity will not be thought, by any one w^ell conversant with Reasoning, to consist merely in the saving of breath, paper, or time. Brevitj^, when it does not cause obscurity, conduces much to the opposite effect, and causes the meaning to be far more cleai'ly apprehended than it v.ould have been in a longer expression. More than half the cases, probably, in which men either misapprehend what is said, or confuse one question with another, or are misled by any fallacy, are traceable, in great measure, to a \vant of suf- ficient conciseness of expression.' Perhaps it may be thought by some to be a supei'fluous task to say anything at all concerning a work which has been in most people's hands for about two centuries and a-half, and" PK)i:FACE. XVU has, in tliat time, rather gained than lost in popnlarit3^ But there are some qualities in Bacon's writings to which it is important to direct, from time to time, especial attention, on account of a tendency often showing itself, and not least at the present day, to regard with excessive admiration writers of a completely opposite character; those of a mystical, dim, half- iiitelliy-ible kind of affected grandeur.* ' It is well known what a reproach to our climate is the prevalence of fogs, and how much more of risk and of incon- venience results from that mixture of light and obscurity than from the darkness of night. But let any one imagine to himself, if he can, a mist so resplendent with gay prismatic colours, that men should forget its inconveniences in their admiration of its beauty, and that a kind of nebular taste should prevail, for preferring that gorgeous dimness to vulgar daylight; nothing short of this could afford a parallel to the mischief done to the public mind by some late writers both in England and America ; — a sort of ' Children of the Mist,' who bring forward their speculations — often very silly, and not seldom very mischievous — under cover of the twilight. They have accustomed their disciples to admire as a style sublimely pliiiosophical, what may best be described as a certain haze of words imperfectly understood, through which some seemingly origina^ ideas, scarcely distinguishable in their outlines, loorriy as it M ere, on the view, in a kind of dusky magnificence, that greatly exaggerates their real dimensions.' In the October number of the Edinburgh Review^ 1851, (p. 613,) the reviewer, though evidently disposed to regard with some favour a style of dim and mystical sublimity, remarks, tjiat ' a strange notion, which many have adopted of late years, is, that a poem cannot be profound unless it is, in whole or in part, ' The passages that follow are chiefly extracted from No. 29 of the Cautions for the Times ; of which I may be permitted to say, — as it was not written by myself — that a more admirable composition, both in matter and style, I neyer met with B XVlll PKEFACE. obscure ; the people like their prophets to foam and speak riddles.' But the reviewer need not have confined his remark to poetry ; a similar taste prevails in reference to prose wiiters also. 'I have ventured,' sajs the late Bishop Copleston (in a letter published in the Memoir of him by his nephew), ' to give the whole class the appellation of the ' maglc-lcmthorn school,'' for their writings liave the startling effect of that toy ; children delight in it, and grown people soon get tired of it.' The passages here subjoined, from modern works in some repute, may serve as specimens (and a multitude of such might have been added) of the kind of style alluded to: — ' In truth, then, the idea (call it that of day or that of night) is threefold, not twofold : — day, night, and their relation. Day is the thesis, night the antithesis, their relation the mesothesis of the triad, — for triad it is, and not a mere pair or diiad, aficr all. It is the same with all the other couples cited above, and with all couples, for every idea is a trini- tarian. Positive pole, negative one, and that middle terra wherein they are made one ; sun, planet, their relation ; solar atom, planetary one, their conjunction, and so forth. The terra of relation betwixt the opposites in these ideal pairs is some- times called the point of indifference, the mesoteric po'nt, the mid-point. This mid-point is to be seen standing betwixt its right and left fellow-elements in every dictionary ; for example, men, man, women ; or adjectively, male, human, female. 'So God created man in His own image : in the image of God created lie him ; male and female created H'^ them." ' Now, this threefold constitution of ideas is universal. As all things seem to go in pairs to sense, and to the understand- ing, so all are seen in threes by reason. This law of antinomy is no limited, no planetary law, nor yet peculiarly human ; it is cosmical, all-embracing, ideal, divine. Not only is it impossible for man to think beauty without simultaneously thinking de- formity and their point of indifference, justice without injustice PREFACE. XIX iind theirs, unity without multiplicity and theirs, but those several theses (beauty, justice, unity, namely) cannot be thought without these their antitheses, and without the respectiv^e middle terms of the pairs. As the eye of common-sense cannot have an inside without an outside, nor a solar orb without a planetary orbicle (inasmuch as it ceases to be solar the instant it is stript of its })lanet), so the eye of reason cannot see an inside wiihout seeing an outside, and also their connexion as the inside and the outside of one and the same thing, nor a sun wiihout his planet and their synthesis in a solar system. In short, three-in-one is the law of all thought and of all things. Nothing has been created, nothing can be thought, except upon the principle of three-in-one. Three-in-one is the deei)est-lying cypher of the universe.' * Again : ' Tiie ' relativity' of human knowledge, i. e., the meta- physical limitation of it, implies, we are told, the relation of a subject knowing to an object known. And what is known must be qualitative! (/ known, inasmuch as we must conceive every object of which we are conscious, in the relation of a quality depending upon a substance. Moreover, this qualita- tively known object must he protended, or conceived as existing in time, and extended, or regarded as existing in space ; while its qualities are intensive, or conceivable under degree. The thinkable, even when compelled by analj'sis to make the nearest approach that is possible to a negation of intelligibility, thus implies j?7ignomourne, glides The Derby Dilly, carrying three insides.' XX PREFACE. Again: 'Thus to the ancient, well-known logic, wliich we might call the logic of identity, and which has for its axiom, ^ thing can never he the contrary of that which it is^ Ilegel opposes his own logic, according to which '■'Everything is at once that which it is, and the contrary of that which it is.'' By means of this he advances a priori ^ lie proposes a thesis, from which he draws a new synthesis, not directly (which might be impossihle), but indirectly, by means of an antithesis.^ Again : 'It [Religion] is a mountain air; it is the embalmer of tlie world. It is myrrh, and storax, and chlorine, and rose- mary. It makes tlie &ky and the hills sublime ; and the silent song of the stars is it Always the seer is a sayer. Somehow his dream is told, somehow he publishes it with solemn joy, sometimes with pencil on canvas, sometimes with chisel on stone; sometimes in towers and aisles of granite, his BOid's worship is builded Man is the wonder- maker, lie is seen amid miracles. The stationariness of re- ligion ; the assumption that the age of inspiration is past, that the Bible is closed ; the fear of degrading the character of Jesus by representing Him as a man, indicate witli sufficient clear- ness the falsehood of our theology. It is the office of a true teacher to show us that God is, not was — that He speaketh, not spoke. The true Christianity — a faith like Christ's in the infinitude of Man — is lost. None believeth in the soul of Man, but only in some man or person old and departed! In how many churches, and by how many prophets, tell me, is Man made sensible that he is an infinite soul ; that the earth and heavens are passing into his mind ; and that he is dnnking for ever the soul of God ! ' The very word Miracle, as pronounced by christian Chui-ches, gives a false impression ; it is a monster; it is not one with the blovving clover and the falling rain. , . . Man's life is a miracle, and all that man doth. ... A true conversion, a true Christ, is now, as always, to be made by the reception of beautiful sentiments. . . . The gift of God to the soul is not a vaunting, TKEFACE. XXI ovei'powering, excluding sanctity, but a sweet natural goodness like thine and mine, and tiiat thus invites thine and mine to be, and to grow." Now, without presuming to insinuate that sucli passages as these convey no dii?tinct meaning to any reader, or to the wi'iter, it may safely be mainiained that to above ninet}^- iiine hundredths — inchiding, probably, nuin}^ who admire them as jtrotbundly wise — they ai'e very dindj-, if at all, inielligii)le. If the writei'S of them Mere called on to ex])lain their meaning, as Ml'. Bayes is, in 21ie RelLearsal, they might j)erhaps confess as frankly as he does, that the object was mei*ely 'to elevate and surprise.' Some knowledge of a portion of human nature was certainly possessed by that teacher of Rhetoric mentioned by Quintilian, whose constant admonition to his ])upils was [aKoriooi^ ' darken, darken !' as the readiest mode of gaining admiration. (3ue nuxy often hear some writers of the ' magic-lantliorn school' s})oken of as possessing M'onderful j^czwr, even by those who regret that this power is not better employed. 'It is pity,' we sometimes hear it said, 'tliat such and such an author does not express in simple, intelligible, unaffected English such ad- mirable matter as his.' They little think that it is the strange- ness and obscurity of the style that make the power displayed seem far greater than it is; and that much of what they now admire as originality and profound wisdom, would appear, if translated into common language, to be mere common-place ' It is worth observing that tliis writer, as well as very many others of the same stamp, professes to be a believer in wliat he chuses to call C'lirixtiaiiitji ; and would, of course, not scruple to take theoatli (so strenuously niaitilained by some, as a safcLjiiarJ to tlie ciiristian reiiji;ioii) ' on the true faitli of a Christian,' though he is furtlicr removed from what is coniinoul}- meant by ' Christianity,' tlian a Jew or a Mussulman. And it should be remoinl)ered that this case is far different from that (wilii wliich it is sometimes confounded) of hypoeritical profession, lie who uses tlie word ' Christian ' avowedli/ in a sense quite ditferent from tlie established one, is to t)e censured indeed for an unwarrantable abuse of language, but is not guilty of deception. XXll PREFACE. matte)'. Many a work of this description may remind one of the supposed ancient shield which had been found by the antiquary Martinus Scriblerus, and whicli he highly prized, in- crusted as it was with venerable rust. lie mused on the splen- did appearance it must have had in its bi'ight newness ; till, one day, an over-sedulous house-maid having scoured off the rust, it turned out to be merely an old pot-lid. ' ' It is chiefly in such foggy forms that the raeta])h3'sic3 and theology of Germany, for instance, are exercising a greater influence every day on popular literature. It has been zeal- ously instilled into the minds of many, that Gernumy has something far more profound to su])i)ly than anything hithei'to extant in our native literature ; though what that pi'otbund something is, seems not to be well undei'stood by its admirers. They ai-e, most of them, willing to take it for granted, with an implicit faith, that what seems such /,!«;'<:? thinking, must be very accurate and orii^-inal thinking also. What is abstruse and re- condite they suppose must be abstruse and recondite wisdom; though, ])erhaps, it is what, if stated in plain English, they would throw aside as partly trifling truisms, and partly stark folly. ' It is a remai'k which I have heard highly applauded, that a clear idea is generally a little idea ; for there are not a few pei'sons who estimate the depth of thought as an unskilful eye would estimate the depth of water. Muddy water is apt to be su})posed to be deeper than it is, because you cannot see to the bottom ; very clear water, on the contrary, will always seem less deep than it is, both from the well-known law of refrac'.ion, and also because it is so thoroughly penetrated by the sight. Men fancy that an idea must have been always obvious to every one, when they And it so plainly presented to the mind that every one can easily take it in. An explaiuUion that is perfectly clear, satisfactory, and simple, often causes the unreflecting to forget that they had needed any explanation at This passage is from the Cautions for the Times, No. 29. PKEFACE. XXlll all. And truths that are, in practice, frequently overlooked, they will deride as ' vapid truisms' if very jplainly set forth, and will wonder that any one should think it worth while to notice them,' Accordingly, if there should be two treatises on some science, one of them twice as long as the other, but containing nothing of much importance that is not to be found in the other (except some positions that are decidedly untenable), but in a style much more difinse, and less simple and perspicuous, with a tone of lofty pretension and scornful ari'ogance, many persons will consider this latter as far the more profound and philo- sophical work, and the other as containing merely ' beggarly elements,' fit only for the vulgar. ' Now, Bacon is a striking instance of a genius who could think so profoundly, and at the same time so clearly, that an ordinary man understands I'eadily some of his wisest sayings, and, perhaps, thinks them so self-evident as hardly to need mention. But, on re-consideration and repeated meditation, you perceive more and more what extensive and important application one of his maxims will have, and how often it has been overlooked : and on returning to it again and again, fresh views of its importance will continually open on you. One of his sayings will be like some of the heavenly bodies that are visible to the naked eye, but in which you see con- tinually more and more, the better the telescope you apply to them. 'The 'dark sayings,' on the contrary, of some admired writers, may be compared to a fog-bank at sea, which the navigator at first glance takes for a chain of majestic mountains, but which, when approached closely, or when viewed through a good glass, proves to be a mere mass of unsubstantial vapours,' A large proportion of Bacon's woi'ks has been in great measure superseded, chiefly through the influence exerted by those works themselves ; for, the more satisfactory and eflfectual XXIV PREFACE. is the refutation of some prevailing errors, and the establish- ment of some philosophical principles that had been overlooked, the less need is there to resort, for popular use, to the argu- ments by which this has been effected. They ai'e like the tieuches and batteries by which a besieged town has been assailed, and which are abandoned as soon as the capture has been accomplished. ' I have been labouring,' says some Avriter who had been engaged in a task of this kind (and Bacon might have said the same) — ' 1 have been labouring to I'ender myself useless.' Great part, accordingly, of what were the most important of Bacon's works are now resorted to chiefly as a matter of curious and in:eresling si)Cculation to the studious few, while the effect of them is practically felt by numy who never read, or perhaps even heard of them. But his Essays retain their popularity, as relating chiefly to the concerns of every-day life, and which, as he himself ex- pi'esses it, 'come home to men's business and bosoms.' 'In the Pure and in the Physical Sciences,' says an able ■vriiter in the Edlnhuryh Review^'' 'each generation inherits the conquests made by its predecessoi's. No mathematician has to redemonstrate the pi'oblems of Euclid ; no physiologist has to susain a controversy as to the circulation of the blood; no astronomer is met by a denial of the principle of gravi- tation. But in the Mond Sciences the ground seems never to be incontestably won ; and this is peculiarly the case with respect to the sciences which are subsidiary to the arts of administration and legislation. Opinions prevail, and are acted on. The evils which appear to result from their prac- tical application lead to inquiry. Their erroneousness is proved by philosophers, is acknowledged by the educated Public, and at length is admitted even by statesmen. The policy founded on the refuted error is relaxed, and the evils which it inflicted, 60 far as they are capable of remedy, are removed or mitigated. ' See Edinburgh Review, July 1843, No. 157. TREFACE. XXV After a time, new theorists arise, wlio are seduced or impelled hy some moral or intellectual detect or error to reassert the exploded doctrine. Tliej have become entangled b}^ some logical fallacy, or deceived hy some inaccurate or incomplete assnm})tion of facts, or think that they see the means of ac(piir- iiig reputation, or of promoting iheir iuterests, or of gratifving their political or their })i-ivate resentments, by attacking tlie altered policy. All popular errors are plausible ; indeed, if they were not so, they would not be popular. The plausibility to which the revived doctrine owed its original currency, makes it accej)table to those to whom the subject is new ; and even among those to whom it is familiar, probably ninety-nine out of every hundred are accustomed to take their oj)inions on such matters on trust. They hear with sui'prise that what they su])posed to be settled is questioned, and often avoid the trouble of inquiring by endeavouring to believe that the truth is not to be ascertained. And thus the cause has again to be pleaded, before judges, some of whom are prejudiced, and others will not readly attend to reasoning founded on premises which they thiidi unsusceptible of proof. To treat fully of the design and character of Bacon's greater woi-ks, and of the mistakes — which are not few or nnimportant — tiiat prevail respecting them, would be altogether nnsuited to this Work. But it may be worth while to introduce two brief remarks on the sul)ject. (i.) The prevailing fault among philosophers in Bacon's time and long before, was hasty, careless, and scanty observation, and the want of copious and patient experiment. On supposed facts not carefully ascertained, and often on mere baseless con- jecture, they proceeded to reason, often very closely and inge- niously ; forgetting that no architectural skill in a superstructure will give it greater firmness than the foundation on which it rests ; and thus they of course failed of arriving at true con- clusions ; for, the most accurate reasoning is of no avail, if XXYl PREFACE. you have not well-established facts and principles to start from. Bacon laboured zealously and powerfully to recall philoso- phers IVoni the study of fanciful systems, based on crude conjec- tures, or on imperfect knowledge, to the careful and judicious investigation, or, as he called it, ' interrogation' and ' intei'preta- tion of nature;' the collecting and properly arranging of well- ascertained facts. And the maxims which he laid down and enforced for the conduct of philosophical in(piiry, are universally admitted to have at least greatly contributed to the vast progress which physical science has been making since his time. But though Bacon dwelt on the importance of setting out from an accurate knowledge of facts, and on the absurdity of attempting to substitute the reasoning-process for an investi- gation of nature, it would be a great mistake to innigine that he meant to disparage the reason ing-pi"ocess, or to substitute for skill and correctness in that, a mere accumulated knowledge of a multitude of facts. And any one would be far indeed from being a follower of Bacon, who sliould despise logical ac- curacy, and ti-ust to what is often called experience ; meaning, by that, an extensive but crude and undigested observation. For, as books, though indispensably necessary lor a student, ai"e of no use to one who has not learned to read, though he dis- tinctly sees black marks on white paper, so is all expei'ience and acquaintance with facts, unprofitable to one wliosc mind has not been trained to read rightly the volume of nature, and of hu- man transactions, spread before him. When complaints are made — often not altogether without reason — of the prevailing ignorance of facts, on such or such eubjects, it will often be found that the parties censured, though possessing less knowledge than is desirable, yet possess more than they know what to do with. Their deficiency in arranging and aj^plying their knowledge, in combining facts, and correctly deducing, and rightly employing, general principles, will be perhaps greater than their ignorance of facts. Now, to attempt PKEFACE. XXVll remedying tliis defect by impcarting to them additional knowl- edge, — to confer the advantage of wider experience on those who have not skill in profiting by experience, — is to attempt enlarging the prospect of a short-sighted man by bringing him to tlie top of a hill. Since he could not, on the plain, see dis- tinctly the objects before him, the wider horizon from the hill- top is utterly lost on him. In the tale oi Sandford and Merton^ where the two boys are described as amusing themselves with building a hovel, they lay poles horizontally on the top, and cover them with straw, so as to make a flat roof; of course the rain comes through; and Master Merton proposes then to lay on more straw. But Sand- ford, the more intelligent boy, remarks, that as long as the roof is flat, the rain must sooner or later soak through ; and that the I'emedy is, to alter the building, and form the roof Bl<,)piiig. Now, the idea of enlightening incorrect reasoners by additional knowledge, is an error analogous to that of the flat roof; of course knowledge is necessarj' ; so is straw to thatch the roof; but no quantity of materials will be a substitute for understanding how to build. But the unwise and incautious are alwaj's prone to rush from an error on one side into an opposite error. And a reaction accordingly took place from the abuse of reasoning to the un- due neglect of it, and from the fault of not sufhcientlj'^ observing facts, to that of trusting to a mere accumulation of ill-arranged knowledge. It is as if men had formerly spent vain labour in thrashing over and over again the same straw, and winnowing the same chaff, and then their successors had resolved to discard those processes altogether, and to bring home and use wheat and weeds, sti-aw, chafl*, and grain, just as they grew, and with- out any preparation at all.' If Bacon had lived in the present day, I am convinced he would have made his chief complaint against unmethodized * Lectures 07i Political Economy, lect. ix. XXVlll PREFACE, inquiry, and careless and illogical reasoning ; certainly lie would not have conii)Iained of Dialectics as corrupting philosophy. To guai'd now against the evils prevalent in his time, would be to fortify a town against battering-rams instead of against cannon. (2.) The other remark I would make on Bacon's greater works is, that he does not rank higli as a 'Natural -philosopher.' His genius lay another way ; not in the direct pursuit of Phy- sical Science, but in discerning and correcting the errors of philosophers, and laying down the principles on which they ought to proceed. According to Iloi-ace's illustration, his ottice was not that of the razoi', but the hone, 'acutum reddei'e qufe ferrum valet, exsors ipsa secandi.' The poet Cowley accordingly has beautifully compared Bacon to Moses, ' Wlio did upon the very border stand Of that fair promised land ;* who had brought the Israelites out of Egypt, and led them thi'ough the wilderness, to the entrance into the 'land flowing with milk and hone}',' which he was allowed to view from the hill-top, but not himself to enter. It requii'es the master-mind of a great general to form the plan of a campaign, and to direct aright the movements of great bodies of troops: but the greatest general may perhaps fall far short of many a private soldier in the use of the musket or the sword. But Bacon, though far from being without a taste for the pui'suits of physical science, had an actual inaptitude for it, as might be shewn by many examples. The discovery of Coper- nicus and Galileo, for instance, which had attracted attention before and in his own time, he appears to have rejected or disregarded. But one of the most remarkable specimens of his inaptitude for practically carrying out his own principles in matters con- nected with Physical Science, is his speculation concerning the PREFACE. XXIX well-known plant called misselto. He notices the i^ojinlar belief of his own time, that it is a true plant, propagated by -its berries, which are dropi)ed by birds on the bonglis of other trees; a fact alluded to in a Latin proverb applicable to those wdio create future dangers for themselves; for, the ancient Komans prepared birdlime for catching birds from the misselto thus propagated. Now this account of the plant, which has long since been universally admitted. Bacon rejects as a vulgar error, and insists on it that misselto is not a true plant, but an excrescence from the tree it grows on ! Nothing can be con- ceived more remote from the si)ii'it of the Baconian ])hilosophy that thus to substitute a random conjecture for careful investi- gation ; and that, too, when there actually did exist a i)revailiiig belief, and it was obviously the first step to incpiire whether this were or were not well-founded. Tile matter itself, indeed, is of little importance ; but it indicates, no less than if it were of the greatest, a deticiency in the ai)plication of his own principles. For, one who takes deliberate aim at some object, and misses it, is proved to be a bad inarksman, whether the object itself be insignificant or not. ( But rarely, if ever, do we find any such failures in Bacon's speculations on human character and conduct. It was there that his strength lay; and in that department of philosophy it may safely be said that he had few to equal, and none to excel him. In several instances I have treated of subjects respecting which erroneous opinions are current; and I have, in other works, sometimes assigned this as a reason for touching on those subjects. Hence, it has been inferred by more than one critic, that I must be at variance with the generality of mankind in most of my opinions ; or, at least, must wish to apjjcar so, for the sake of claiming credit for originality. Butthei'e seems no good ground for such an inference. A man might, conceiv- ably, agree with the generality on nineteen points out of twenty, and yet might see reason, when j^ichlishin^ is in question, to XXX FKEFACE. treat of the one point, and say little or nothing of the nineteen. For it is evidently more important to clear up difticiilties, and correct mistakes, than merely to remind men of what they knew before, and prove to them what they already believe. He may be convinced that the sun is brighter than the moon, and that three and two make five, without seeing any need to proclaim to the world his conviction. There is no necessity to write a hooJv to prove that liberty is preferable to slavery, and that in- temperance is noxious to health. But when errors are afloat on any important question, and especially when they are plausi- bly defended, the work of refuting them, and of maintaining truths that have been overlooked, is surely more serviceable to the Public than the inculcation and repetition of what all men admit. I have inserted in the ' Annotations,' extracts from several works of various authors, including some of my own. If I had, instead of this, merely given references, this would have been to expect every reader either to be perfectly familiar with all the works referred to, or at least to have them at hand, and to take the trouble to look out and peruse each passage. This is what I could not reasonably calculate on. And I had seen lament- able instances of an author's being imperfectly understood, and sometimes grievously misunderstood, by many of his readers who were not so familiar as he had expected them to be, with his previous works, and with others which had been alluded to, but not cited. Cavillers, however — persons of the description noticed in the 'Annotations' on Essay XLVII. — will be likely to complain of the reprinting of passages from other books. And if the opposite course had been adopted, of merely giving reference to them, the same cavillers would probably have complained that the reader of this volume was expected to sit down to the study of it with ten or twelve other volumes on the table before him, and to look out each of the passages referred to. Again, if an author, in making an extract from some work of his own, gives PREFACE. XXXI a reference to it, tlie caviller will represent liim as seeking to puff his own productions; if he omit to give the reference, the same caviller will charge him with seeking to pass off' as new what had been published before. And again, a reader of this character, if he meet with a statement of something ho was already convinced of, will dei'ide it as a truism not worth mentioning; while anything that is new to him he will censure as an extravagant paradox. For 'you must think this, look jou, that the worm will do his kind." I chose, then, rather to incur the blame of the fault — if it be one — of encumbering the volume with two or three addi- tional sheets, which, to some readers, may be superfluous, than to run the risk of misleading, or needlessly offending, many others, by omitting, and merely referi'ing to, something essential to the argument, whicli they might not have seen, or might not dis- tinctly remember. The passages thus selected are, of course, but a few out of many in which the subjects of these Essays have been treated of. I have inserted those that seem most to the pui'pose, without expecting that all persons should agree in approving the selections made. But any one who thinks that some passages from other writers contain better illustrations than those here given, has only to edit the Essays himself with such extracts as be prefers. To the present edition some fifty pages of additions have been made. * Antony and Cleopatra, Act v. THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE ESSAYS. Under the date 5 Feb. 1596 the following entry occurs in the books of the Stationers' Company. " Hiifrey Hooper. En- tred for his copie under thandes of Mr Fr^ Bacon Mr D Stanhope Mr Barlowe and Mr Warden Dawson a booke inti- tuled Essaies Religious meditations, places of perswasion and diswasion by Mr Fr. Bacon." This was the first edition of Bacon's Essays. They were published in a small 8vo. volume, of which the full title is as follows : " Essayes. Religious Meditations. Places of perswasiou and disswasion. Scene and allowed. At London, Printed for Humfrey Hooper, and are to be sold at the blacke Beare in Chauncery Lane. 1597." The dedication to Antony Bacon occupies three pages. Tlien follow the table of Contents and the Essays, ten in number ; 1. Of studie. 2. Of discourse. 3. Of Ceremonies and re- spects. 4. Of foUawers and friends. 5. Sutors. 6. Of expence. 7. Of Regiment of health, 8. Of Honour and reputation. 9. Of Faction. 10. Of Negociating. The Essays occupy thirteen folios, and are followed by the " Meditationes Sacrse," or Religious Meditations, in Latin, consisting of 15 1 From Mr. W. Aldis Wright's edition, 1865. c XXXIV THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE ESSAYS. folios besides the title, and these by " The Coolers of Good and eiiill," which are the " places of perswasion and disswa- sion " already mentioned. The numbering of the folios in the last two is consecutive, 32 in all. This volume was dedicated by Bacon to his brother Anthony in the following Epistle. The Epistle Dedicatorie To M. Antliony Bacon his deare Brother. Louing and beloued Brother, I doe nowe like some that haue an Orcharde ill neighbored, that gather their fruit before it is ripe, to preuent stealing. These fragments of my con- ceites were going to print ; To labour the stale of them had bin troublesome, and subiect to interpretation ; to let them passe had beene to adueture the wrong they mought receive by vntrue Coppies, or by some garnishment, which it mought please any that should set them forth to bestow vpon them. Therefore I helde it best discreation to publish them my selfe as they passed long agoe from my pen, without any further disgrace then the woaknesse of the Author. And as I did euer hold, there mought be as great a vanitie in retiring and withdrawing mens concaites (except they bee of some nature) from the world, as in obtruding them: So in these particulars I haue played my selfe the Inquisitor, and find nothing to my vnderstanding in them contrarie or infectious to the state of Religion, or manners, but rather (as I suppose) medicinable. Only I disliked now to put them out because they will bee like the late new halfe-pence^, which though the Siluer were good, yet the peeces were small. But since they would not stay with their Master, but would needes trauaile abroade, I haue 1 Coined for the first time in 1582-3, and used without interruption till 1601. See Folkes, Table of English Silver Coins, p. 57, ed. 1745. d THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE ESSAYS. XXXV prafcrred tlicm to you that are next my selfe, Dedicating them, such as they are, to our loue, in the depth whereof (I assure you) I sometimes wish your infirmities translated vppon my selfe, that her Maiestie mought haue the seruice of so actiue and able a mind, & I mought be with excuse confined to these contemplations & Studies for which I am fittest, so commend I you to the preseruation of the divine Maieslic. From my Cliamber at Graies Inne this 30. of lanuarie. 1597. Your entire Louing brother. Fran. Bacon. The date of this letter, if not a printer's error, is evidently intended to be 1596-7, according to the then reckoning of the civil year, Avhicli began on the 25th of March. We have the entry at Stationers' Hall on Feb. 5 ; a memorandum on the title page of the copy in the British Museum that it was sold on the 7th of Feb., 39 Eliz. (i.e. 1596-7) ; and a letter of Anthony Bacon's to the Earl of Essex, written on the 8th of Feb. 1596, which appears to have accompanied a presenta- tion copy of the Essays. There are MSS. of this edition in the British Museum (Lansd. MSS. 775), and the Cambridge Univ. Lib. (Nn. 4. 5). A fragment containing the essays ' Of Faction ' and ' Of Negotiatinge ' is in the Harleian col- lection (no. 6797). In 1598 a second edition was published by Humfrey Hooper, also in small 8vo, differing from the first in having the Meditations in English, and the table of Contents of the Essays at the back of the title page. A pirated edition was printed for John Jaggard in 1606, and in 1612 he was preparing another reprint, when the second author's edition appeared. In consequence of this, Jaggard cancelled the last two leaves of quire G, and in their place substituted " the second part of Essaies," which contains all the additional Essays not printed in the edition of 1597. On the I. Miority of a MS. list by Malone Mr Singer men- XXXVl THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE ESSAYS. tions an edition in 1604, but I have found no other trace of it. During the summer of the year 1612 Bacon liimself had prepared and printed, in a small 8vo. volume of 241 pages, a second edition of the Essays by themselves, in which the original ten, with the exceptiou of that " Of Honour and repu- tation," were altered and enlarged, and twenty-nine new Essays added. The title of this second edition is ; " The Essaies of S"^ Francis Bacon Knight, the Kings Solliciter Generall, Imprinted at London by lohn Beale, 1612." It was entered at Stationers' Hall on the 12tli of October, as follows. " W"' Hall, John Beale. Entred for their copy under the handes of my Lo: Bysshopp of London & the Wardens A booke called The Essayes of S"" Fr^ Bacon knight the Ks SoUicitor gan'all." It was Bacon's intention to have dedicated it to Prince Henry, and the dedication was actually written, but in consequence of the Prince's death on the 6th of November, it was addressed instead to his brother in law Sir John Constable. ^ A copy of the dedication to Prince Henry exists in the British Museum (Birch MSS. 4259, fol. 155), and is written on a single leaf which appears on exami- nation to have belonged to an imperfect MS. of the Essays, preserved among the Harleian MSS. (no. 5103), which Mr Spedding describes as " a volume undoubtedly authentic ; for it contains interlineations in Bacon's own hand ; and tran- scribed some time between 1607, when Bacon became Solici- tor-general, and 1612, when he brought out a new edition of the Essays with further additions and alterations. It is unluckil}'' not quite perfect; one leaf at least, if not more, having been lost at the beginning ; though otherwise in excel- lent preservation. " The title page, which remains, bears the following inscrip- tion, very handsomely written in the old English character, ^ Sir John Constable married Dorothy Barnham the sister of ^ ' .y Bacon. THE BIBLIOGUAPHY OF THE ESSAYS. XXXVll with flourislied capitals : The writings of Sr Francis Bacon Knt. the Kinge's SuUicitor Generall : in 3Ioralitie, Policie, and StHtorie.''^ Bacon's Works, VI. 535. The Essays in this MS. are thirty-four in number, and include two, " Of Honour and Reputation " and " Of Seditions and Troubles," which are not contained in the edition of lol2, while in the printed edition six new Essays were added, " Of Religion," " Of Cunning," " Of Lone," " Of Judicature," " Of vaine glory," and " Of greatnes of Ivingdomes." The dedica- tion to Prince Henry was as follows : " To the most higli and excellent Prince Henry, Prince of Wales, D : of Cornwall and Earle of Chester Yt may jdease your H. Having devided my life into the contemplative and active parte, I am desirous to giue his j\I, and yo"" H. of the fruite of both, simple thoughe they be. To write iust Treatises reqiiir- eth leasure in the Writer, and leasure in the Reader, and therefore are not so fitt, neither in regarde of yo*" H : princely affaires, nor in regard of my continuall service, w*^*^ is the cause, that hath made me choose to write certaine brief notes, sett dowr.e rather sigiiilicantlye, then curiously, w*"*^ 1 have called ESSAIES. The word is late, but the thing is auncient. For Senacaes Epistles to Lucilius, yf one marke them well, are but Ussaies, — That is dispersed Meditacons, thoughe con- veyed in the forme of Ejiistles. Theis labors of myne I know cainiot be worthie of yo'" H: for what can be worthic of you. But my hope is, they may be as grayues of salte, that will rather give you an appetite, then offend you with satiety. And althoughe they handle those things wherein both mens Lives and theire ])cnt; ri^ most conversant yet (What I have attained, I icnowe not) but I have endeavoured to make thera not vr.igar ; but off' nature, whereof a man shall find much in experience, litle in bookcs ; so as they are neither repeticons XXXviii THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE ESSAYS. nor fansies. But howsoever, I shall most humbly dcsier yo' H : to accept them in gratious part, and so contrive that if I cannot rest, but must shewe my dutiful!, and devoted affec- tion to yo'^' H: in theis things w'='^ proceed from my self, I shalbe much more ready to doe it, in performance of yo"" princely commaundmente ; And so wishing yo"" H : all princely felicitye I rest. Yo'" II : most humble Servant." The dedication to Sir John Constable is more simple and natural. " To my loving brother, S"" lohn Constable Knight. My last Essaies I dedicated to my deare brother Master Anthony Bacon, who is with God. Looking amongst my papers this vacation, I found others of the same Nature: whicli if I my selfe shall not suffer to be lost, it secmeth the World will not ; by the often printing of the former. Missing my Brother, I found you next ; in respect of bond of neare alliance, and of straight friendship and societie, and particu- larly of communication in studies. Wherein I must acknowl- edge my selfe beholding to you. For as my businesse found rest in my contemplations ; so my contemplations euer found rest in your louing conference and iudgement. So wishing you all good, I remaine Your louing brother and friend, Fra. Bacon." The Table of Contents givei i u.-.!. . forty Essays but the last two were not printed. 1. Of Religion. 2. Of Death. " 3. Of Goodnes and goodnes of na*..r''. -1. Of Cunning. 5. Of Marriage and single life. '•. "f rnrents and Children. 7. THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE ESSAYS. XXX^ Of Nobilitie. 8. Of Great place. 9. Of Empire. 10. Of Coimsell. 11. Of Dispatch. 12. Of Loufc. 13. Of Friend- sliippe. 14. Of Atheisme. 15. Of Superstition. 16. Of Wis- dorae for a Mans selfe. 17. Of Regnment of Health. 18. Of Expences. 19. Of Discourse. 20. Of Seeming wise. 21. Of Riches. 22. Of AmbitioQr^ 23. Of Young men and age. 24. Of Beautie. 25. Of Deformitie. 26. Of nature in Men. 27. Of Custome and Education. 28. Of Fortune., 29. Of Studies. 30. Of Ceremonies and respects. 31. Of Sutors. 32. Of Followers. 33. Of Negociating. 34. Of Faction. 35. Of Praise. 36. Of Judicature. 37. Of vaine glory. 38. Of greatnes of Kingdomes: 39. Of the publike. 40. Of Warre and peace. The second edition must have been published between the 6th of November, the date of Prince Henry's death, and the 17th of Dec. 1612 when Chamberlain wrote the letter which is quoted in the note to Essay XLIV. In 1613 Jaggard published a reprint of this edition, also in small 8vo, containing the omitted Essay " Of Honour and Rep- utation," the Religious Meditations, and the Colours of Good and Evil ; and in the same year another reprint was issued by the same publisher with a new title page and the printer's errors of the former corrected. Copies of both these impres- sions are in the Cambridge University Library, to which they were presented, with a large collection of Bacon's works, by Basil Montagu. The latter is noted in Montagu's Catalogue as having Bacon's autograph, but the fly leaf containing it has been torn out, apparently since it has been in the Library. In 1614 another edition appeared, printed at Edinburgh for A. Hart. Malone mentions an edition in 1618, in the dedication to which, he says, Bacon " speaks of several editions having been tlien printed." Prior's Life of Malone, p. 424. If the date be correct, which there is reason to doubt, this could only have been a reprint of the edition of 1612. In Reed's Cata- Xl THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE ESSAYS. logiie (no. 1683) a copy is mentioned with the date 1619, and another (no. 1772) a qnarto with the date 1622. Mr Singer says, bnt without giving his authority, " there were, it seems, editions in 1622, 1623, and 1624 in 4to." I have been unable to hiid any of these. la 1624 was published a reprint of Jaggard's pirated edition of 1618, by Elizabeth Jaggard, probably his widow. All the above mentioned are in small 8vo. The third and last author's edition was published in small 4to in 1625, the year before Bacon's death. The number of Essays was increased to fifty-eight, of which twenty were new, and the rest altered or enlarged. The entry at Stationers' Hall is dated the ISth of Marcli, 1624. " Mr Whiteacre. Hanna Barrett. Entered for their cojjie under tlie handcs of the lo. B. of London and Mr Lownes Warden. The Essayes & coun- sell morrall and civill of Francis lo. Verulam Vicount St Albon." A copy in the Cambridge University Library (xvii. 36, 14) was presented l)y Bacon to Sir John Finch on the 30th of March 1625. It was therefore evidently published some time in the latter part of March 1624-5. The three editions of 1597, 1612, and 1625 are the only ones which possess any authority, the rest apparently having been issued without the author's -supervision or sanction. But in 1618 an Italian translation of the second edition was publislied by John Beale, which was made with Bacon's knowledge, if not at his request. The autlior of the translation is not known. Mi'. Singer conjectured tliat it was Father Fulgentio, but Mr. Spedding shews clearly, by an extract from the preface of Andrea Cioli, who brought out a revised reprint at Florence in 1619, that the translation was not the work of an Italian, but of some foreigner, in all probability of an English- man. Tlie volume in whicli it is contained is a small 8vo, entitled, " Saggi Morali del Signore Francesco Bacono, Cavag- liero Inglese, Gran Cancellicro d'lnghilteri-a. Con vn'altro suo Trattato della Sapienza degli Antichi. Tradotti in Ital- THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE ESSAYS. xH iano. In Londra. Apprcsso di Giovanni Billio. 1G18." The Saggi Morali occupy 102 pages, and are thirty-cijiht in num- ber ; the two Essays ' Of Religion ' and - Of Superstition ' being omitted, and their place supplied by those ' Of Honour and Reputation,' and ' Of Seditions and Troubles,' the latter of which had not as yet appeared in English. The dedication to Cosmo, Grand Duke of Tuscany, Avas written by Mr Tobie Matthew, Bacon's intimate friend, but throws no light upon the authorship of the translation. He merely says that he found the two works in the possession of Sir William Cav- endish, who presented them to him with the Author's per- mission. That the translation was ])ubli>shed witii Bacon's sanction is evident from the fact that the Essay "• Of Seditions and Trou!)les," which then existed only in MS., was included in the volume, and that a portion of the dedicatory letter to Prince Henry was incor])orated in Matthew's preface. The passage " To write iust Treatises . . . fansies " is translated nearly word for word, the change of person being of course observed. Of this Italian translation, according to Mr. Singer, there were two editions bearing the same date, but differing in the titles of some of the Essays. As I have seen but one, I subjoin his description. He says, "In one of the copies now before me the Essays contain 102 pages, the Wisdom of the Ancients 105 pages, and a list of Errata is appended to each. In the other copy the Essays comprise 112 pages, the last of which is blank ; the Wisdom of the Ancients 126 pages only, and there is no list of Errata. Beside the changes in the titles of the Essays, there are also some in the titles of the chapters in the Wisdom of the Ancients ; and it is probable that the text of the version is also revised, but I have not collated it." The French translation published in 1619 was by Sir Arthur Gorges. But the only translation to which any importance can be attached, as having in a great measure the impress of Bacon's authority, is the Latin. From the dedication of the third Xlii THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OP THE ESSAYS. edition it is evident that, at the time it was written, Bacon had in course of preparation a Latin translation of the Essays, which it appears to have been his intention to liave published immediately, probably as part of the volume of which we find the entry in tlie books of Stationers' Hall, on the 4th of April, 1625, but whicli he did not live to bring out. The entry is as follows : " Mrs Griffin. Jo. Havilond. Entred for their coppie under the hands of Docf Wilson and Mathewes Lownes warden A booke called Operum Francisci Baronis Verulami Vice Comitis Sancti Aibani by S"" Fran: Bacon." This was proba])ly intended to be the second volume of his works, the De Angmcntls being the first, and to have contained what were afterwards published by his chaplain. Dr. Rawley, in 1638, under tlie title Operum Moralium ei Civilium Tomus. Among these were the Essays in their Latin dress : " Ser- mones fideles, sive interiora reruni. Per Franciscum Baconura Baronem de Verulamio, Vice-Comitem Sancti Aibani." The question tlien arises, by whom was the translation made ? Internal evidence is sufficient to shew that it was the work of several hands, but it is impossible from this alone to assign to each liis work. Arclibishop Tenison, in his Baconiana (pp. 60, 61, ed. 1679) says of the Essays : " The Latine Translation of them was a Work performed by divers Hands ; by those of Doctor Hacket (late Bishop of Lichfield) Mr. Benjamin Johnson (the learned and judicious Poet) and some others, whose Names I once heard from Dr. Rawley; but I cannot now I'ccal them. To this Latine Edition, he gave the Title of Sermones Fideles, after the manner of the Jetvs, who call'd the words Adagies, or Observations of the Wise, Faithful Sayings; that is, credible Propositions worthy of firm Assent, and ready Acceptance. And (as I tliink) he alluded more particularly, in this Title, to a passage in Ecelesiastes,^ where the Preacher saitli that he sought to find out Verba Delectahilia, (as Trcr 1 Eccles. xii. 10, 11. THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE ESSAYS. xliii mellius rendreth the Hebrew') pleasant Words, (that is, per- haps, his Book of Canticles) ; and Verba Fidelia (as the same Tremsllius) Faithful Sayings ; meaning, it may be, his Collec- tion of Proverbs. In the next Verse, he calls them Words of the Wise, and so many Goads and Nails given Ab eodem Pas- tore, from tlie same Shepherd [of the Flock of Israel]." The next direct testimony is that of Aubrey. Speaking of Hobbes of Malmesbury, and his intimacy with Bacon, he says ; " Mr. Tho. Hobbes (Malmesburiensis) was beloved by his Lop. who was wont to have him walke with him in his delicate groves, when he did meditate: and when a notion darted into his mind, Mr. Hobbes was presently to write it downe, and his Lqp. was wont to say that he did it better than any one els about him ; for that many times, when he read their notes he scarce under- stood what they writt, because they understood it not clearly themselves." Letters, II. 222, 3. Again ; " He assisted his Lordship in translating severall of his essayes into Latin, one I well remember is that. Of the Greatness of Cities : the rest I have forgott" II. p. 602. In another passage Aubrey is still more precise : " He told me that he was employed in trans- lating part of the Essayes, viz. three of them, one whereof was that of the Grcatnesse of Cities, the other two I have now forgott " II. p. 234. The Essay here called " Of the Grcat- nesse of Cities " is no doubt that which stands as Essay XXIX. " Of the true Greatnessc of Kingdomes and Estates," and which first appeared in Latin in the De Augmentis. It is certainly one of the best translated of all, and arguing from internal evidence, based on a comparison of it with the rest, I should be inclined to set down as the other two, which Hobbes translated but which Aubrey had forgotten, the Essays " Of Simulation and Dissimulation," and " Of Innovations." This of course is a mere conjecture, but it seems a reasonable one. Who translated the others it is impossible to say. Among the Maloniana, in Prior's Life of 3Ialone (p. 424, ed. 18G0), we fiiid the following. " It is not commonly known that tiie trans- xliv THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OP THE ESSAYS. lation of Bacon's Essays into Latin, which was published in 1619, was done by the famous John Selden ; but this is proved decisively by a letter from N. N. (John Selden N.) to Camden (See Camden. Upistol, 4to. 1691, p. 278). In the Creneral Diet, and several other books, this translation is ascribed to Bishop Hacket and Ben Jonson." The letter to which Ma- lone alludes is anonymous, and the writer says that he had translated Bacon's Essays into Latin, after the correctest copy published in Italian. The original is among the Cotton M8S. Julius C. 5, and is evidently a transcript in some hand not Seidell's. In the heading as it stands in the printed volume, " N. N. Clarissimo Viro Gulielmo Camdeno suo," N. N. (i. e. non nomhiato') is added by tlie editor, who was certainly not aware that Selden was the writer. What authority Malone had for speaking so positively upon the point I have been unable to discover. There is nothing contrary to probability in the supposition that Selden may have translated the Essays in 1619, but tliere is nothing to shew that his translation was ever published, as Malone asserts. It certainly is not indi- cated in the letter itself, of which the following is the passage in question. " Joannes Sarisburiensis e nostris pene solus est, qui rimatus arcana Ethices et Philologice puriora, monimen- tum reliquit mentis Philosophicae in libris de migis Curialium ; nuperrime vcro magnus ille Franciscus Baconus in tentamen- tis suis Ethico-politicis, quae ex Anglico sermone ad correc- tissimum, Italice editum, exemplar, in Latinum transtuli." The date of the letter is " Londini xiv Julii Anglorum CIO. DC. XIX." There is one allusion in it which favours the supposition that it may have been Selden's. " Propterea si sapientise et scientiarum in Britannia nondum coelitus edocta lineamenta cnucleatius exposuero in Historiis meis, qualia apud priscos cum Druydes, tum Saxones (pareiites nostros) ea extitisse comperero, baud perperam ego aut inutiliter bonas lioras trivisse judicer, utpote quae ad bonam mentem suo more fecerint." This may refer to his Analecta Anglo-Britannica, THE BIBLIOGRAPHY OF THE ESSAYS. xlv and the Notes to Drayton's Polyolbion ; but upon such evi- dence it is impossible to decide. There are strong indications of Bacon's supervision in the translation of the Essays " Of Plantations," " Of Building," and " Of Gardens," in which there are alterations and addi- tions which none but the author himself would have ventured to make. In the other Essays the deviations from the English are not so remarkable, though even in these there are varia- tions which are worthy of notice. COISTTEKTS. ESSAT I. Of Truth 1625; II. Of Death.' .... 1612; ni. Of Unity in Religion . . . IV. Of Revenge . _ . . . 1625 ; "^ V. Of Adversity . . . 1625 ; ^ VI. Of Simulation and Dis- simulation .... 1625 ; VII. OfParents and Children 1612; VIII. Of Marriage and Single Life 1612; ^ rX. Of Envy 1625 ; ^ X. Of Love 1612; XL Of Great Place .' . . 1612; 'XII. Of Boldness . . . 1625; XIII. Of Goodness, and Good- ness of Nature . . 1612; XIV. Of Nobility .... 1612 ; XV. Of Seditious and Trou- bles . . . / . -(- XVL Of Atheism^ v. , XVII. Of Superstition XVIII. Of Travel- . . . XIX. Of Empire . . . XX. Of Counsel . . . . XXI. Of Delays .... 1625 S-XXII. Of Cunning. . . . 1612 XXIII. Of Wisdom for a Man's Self 1612; 1625 1612 1612 1625 1612 1612 enlarged 1625 Of Religion, 1612 ; rewrit- ten 1625 enlarged 1625 . . . slightly enlarged 1625 rewritten 1625 . . . slightly enlarged 1625 enlarged 1625 rewritten 1625 slightly enlarged 1625 much enlarged 1625 enlarged 1625 . . rewritten 1625 enlarged 1625 Paqib 1 14 20 52 60 71 ^1 85 90 100 104 123 126 134 139 155 169 194 200 209 218 224 239 xlviii CONTENTS. Essay XXIV. XXV. XXVI. •/ XXVII. >xxvni. XXIX. XXX. -^ XXXI. xxxn. XXXIII. XXXIV. XXXV. XXXVI. XXXVII. XXXVIII. XXXIX. ' XL. XLI. XLII. XLIII. XLIV. XLV.- XLVI. XLVII. XLVIII. V XLIX. X L. LI. LII. LIII. LIV. LV. Of Innovations Of Dispatch . . Of Seeming AVise Of Friendship'. Of Expense . . 1625; 1612; 1612; 1612; lo<)7; rewritten 1625 enlarged 1612; and again 1625 Of the True Great- ness of Kingdoms and Estates . . 1612; Of Regimen of Health 1597 ; enlarged 1625 enlai'ged 1612; and again 1625 Of Suspicion . . 1625; Of Discourse . . . 15U7 ; Of Plantations . . 1625; Of Riches V . . 1612; Of Prophecies . . 1625 ; Of Ambition . . 1612; Of Masques and Tri- umphs .... 1625 ; Of Nature in Men 1612; Of Custom and Edu- cation .... 1612 Of Fortune. . . 1625 Of Usury . . . 1625 Of Youth and Age 1612 Of Beauty . . . 1612 Of Deformity . . 1612 Of Building . . 1625 Of Gardens . . 1625 Of Negotiating . 1597 slightly enlarged 1612; and again 1625 much enlarged 1625 . enlarjred 1625 enlarged 1625 slightly enlarged 1625 slightly enlarged 1625 somewhat altered 1625 Of Followers Friends . Of Suitors . Of Studies . . and 1597; 1597; 1597; 1597; and Of Faction . . Of Ceremonies Respects . . . 1597 ; Of Praise . . . 1612; Of Vainglory . . 1612; Of Honor and Rep- utation . . . 1597 ; enlarged 1612 ; very slightly altered 1625 ..'... slightly enlarged 1625 . . enlarged 1625 slightly enlarged 1612 ; and again 1625 much enlarged 1625 . . . Page 246 267 273 280 298 305 324 330 344 353 366 377 384 388 392 397 411 416 423 433 435 437 442 451 465 469 472 512 oral dominion, and to enforce his claim by resistless power. lie tries to make Him proclaim Himself a King; and when Jesus does this, but adds that his kingdom is not of this world, still Pilate catches at the word, and says, 'Art thou a king, then?' Jesus then proceeds to designate tij/tc should be his subjects: 'Everj'- one that is of the Truth heareth my words: as much as to say, 'I claim a kingdom not over the Israelite by race; not overall whom I can subjugate by force, or who will submit to me through fear or interest ; but over the votaries of truth., — those who are 'of the truth,' ' — those who are willing to receive what- ever shall be proved true, and to follow wherever that shall lead. And Pilate is at a loss to see wduit this has to do with his inquiry. 'I am asking you about your claims to empire, and you tell me about truth ; what has truth to do with the question ?' Most readers overlook the drift of our Lord's answer, and mterpret the w^ords as a mere assertion (which every teacher makes) of the truth of what He taught ; as if He had said, ' Every one that heareth my words is of the Truth.' Essay i.] Annotations. 5 And commentators usually' satisfy .themselves with such an iiiter})rel:ation as makes the expression intell'ujihle in itself, without considering how far it \% pertinent. A mere assertion of the truth of his teaching wouhl not have been at all relevant to the inquiry made. But wliat lie did say was evidenlly a description of the persons who were to be the subjects of the kingdom tliat 'is not of tliis \V(»rhl.' Much to the same effect is his declaration that those who should be his disciples indeed should 'know the Truth,' and ihe 'Trmli should make them free;' and that 'if any man will do' [is willing to do] 'the will of the Falher, he shall know of the doctrine.' Men were not to become his disciples in conse- quence of their knowing and perceiving the truth of what lie taught, but in consequ'cnce of their having sufficient candour to receive the evidence which his mii-acles afforded, and being so thort)ughly 'of the Truth' as to give themselves up to follow wherever that should lead, in opposition to any })rejudices or inclinations of their own ; and then knowledge of the truth was to be their reward. There is not necessarily any moral virtue in receiving ti'uth; for it may happen that our interest, or our wishes, are in the same dii'ection; or it nuiy be forced upon us by evidence as irresistible as that of a mathematical deinons;ration. The virtue consists in being a sincere votary of Truth ; — what our Lord calls being 'of the Truth,' — rejecting 'the hidden things of dishonesty,' and carefully guarding against every undue bias. Every one wishes to have Truth 07i his side ^ but it is not every one that sincerely wishes to be on the side of Truth. ' TIw inqalnj of truth, which is the love-maldng or wooing of itJ'^ This love-nu\king or wooing of Truth implies that first step towards attaining the establishment of the habit of a steady tlioroMgh-going. adherence to it in all philosophic, and espe- cially religious, inquiry — the strong conviction of its value. To tins must be united a distrust of ourselves. IN^en miss truth more often from their indifference about it than from intellec- tuul incapacity. A well-known statesman is reported to have said that ' no gentleman would ever change his religion.' And 'Tlie chief part of wluit fnUows'is taken from the Essay on Truth (2d Series). 6 Of Truth. [EEssav.' an author of some note, a professed Protestant Christian, has been liearcl to dechire that he thouglit verj^ ill of any one who did so ; ' unless it were,' he said, 'one man in a million, — some pei'son of surpassing genius.' And this sentiment (which im- plies a total indilference to truth and falsehood) has been cited with approbation. Some men, again, from supposing themselves to have found ti'utli, take for granted that it was for truth they were seeking. But if we either care not to be lovers of Truth, or take for granted that we are such, without taking any pains to acquire the habit, it is not likely that we ever shall acquire it. Many objections have been urged against the veiy effort to cultivate such a habit. One is, that we cannot be i-equired to make Truth our main object, but hapjjiness j that our ultimate end is not the mere knowledge of what is true., but the attain- ment of what is good to ourselves and to others. But this, when urged as an objection to/i he maxim, that Truth should be sought for its own sake/is evidently founded on a mistake as to its meaning. It is evident, in the lii'st place, that it does not mean the pursuit of all truth on all subjects. It would be ridiculous for a single individual to aim at universal knowledge, or even at the knowledge of all that is within the reach of the human faculties and worthy of human study. The question is respecting the pursuit of truth in each subject on wdiicli each person desires to mahe up his mind and form an opinion. And secondly, the purport of the maxim that in these points truth should be our object, is, that not mere barren knowledge with- out practice — trulh witliout finy ulterior end, should be sought, but that truth should be sought and followed confidently, not in each instance, only so far as we percevm it to be expedient, and from motives of policy, but with a full conviction both that it is, in the end, always expedient, with a view to the attain- ment of ulterior objects (no permanent advantage being attain- able by departing from it), and also, that, even if some end, otherwise advantageous, could be promoted by such a departure, that alone would constitute it an evil ; — that truth, in short, is in itself, independently of its results, preferable to error; that honesty claims a preference to deceit, even without taking into account its being the best policy. Another objection, if it can be so called, is that a jierfoctly candid and unbiassed state of mind — a habit of judging in each V^c.^"^ Essay i.] Annotations. 7 case entirely according to the evidence — is unattainaljle. But tlic same may be said of every other virtue : a perfect reguh'' tion of any one of the human passions is probably not more attainable than perfect candour ; but we are not therefore to give a loose to the passions: we are not to relax our efforts for the attainment of any virtue on the ground that, after all, we shall fall short of perfection. Ano;her objection which has been urged is, that it is not even desirable, were it possible, to bring the mind into a state of perfectly unbiassed indifference, so as to weigh the evidence in each case with complete imj)artiality. This objection arises, I conceive, from an indistinct and confused notion of the sense of the terms employed. A candid and unbiassed state of mind, which is sometimes called wifZ?yi^r^wc«, or impartiality, ^. e., of the j^idyment., does not imply an indifference of the will — an absence of all wish on either side, but merely an absence of all influence of the wishes in forming our decision, — all leaning of the judg- ment on the side of ii\clination, — alj perversion of the evidence, in consequence. That w^e should wish to find truth on one side rather than the other, is in many cases not only unavoidable, but commendable ; but to think that true which we wish, with- out impartially weighing the evidence on both sides, is undeni- ably a folly, though a very common one. If a mode of effectual and speedy cure be proposed to a sick man, he cannot but wish that the result of his inquiries concerning it may be a well- grounded conviction of the safety and efficacy of the remedy prescribed. It would be no mark of w^isdom to be indifferent to the restoration of health ; but if his-wislies should lead him (as is frequently the case) to put implicit confidence in the remedy without any just grounds for it, he would deservedly be taxed with folly. In like manner (to take the instance above alluded to), a good man will indeed wish to find the evidence of the Christian religion satisfactory, but will weigh the evidence the more care- fully, on account of the importance of the question. But indifference of the will and indifference of X\\e judgment are two very distinct things that are often confounded. A conclusion may safely be adopted, though in accordance witli inclination, provided it be not founded upon it. No doubt the judgment is often biassed by the inclinations; but it is possible, •8 Of Truth. [Essay i. aand it sliould be our endeavour, to guard against this bias. ^^And bj the way, it is utterly a mistake to suppose that the bias is always in favour of the conclusion wished for ; it is often in the contrary direction. There is in some minds an unrea- sonable doubt in cases where their wishes are strong — a morbid distrust of evidence which they are especially anxious to lind conclusive. The proverbial expression of 'too good news to be true' bears witness to the existence of this feeling. Each of us probably has a nature leaning towards one or the other (often towards both, at different times) of these infirmities; — the over- estimate or under-estimate of the reasons in favour of a conclu- sion we earnestly desire to find true. Our aim should be, not to fly from one extreme to the other, but to avoid both, and to give a verdict according to the evidence, preserving the indiffe- rence of the judgment even when the will cannot.^ and indeed sliould not, be indifferent. There are persons, again, who, in supposed compliance with the precept, ' Lean not to thine own understanding,' regard it as a duty to sujjpress all exercise of the intellectual powers, in every case where the feelings are at variance with the conclu- sions of reason. They deem it right to 'consult the heart more than the head;' that is, to surrender themselves, advisedly, to the bias of any prejudice that may happen to be present; thus deliberately, and on principle, burying in the earth the talent entrusted to them, and hiding under a bushel the candle that God has lighted up in the soul. But it is not necessary to dwell on such a case, both because it is not, I trust, a common one, and also because those who are so disposed are clearly beyond the reach of argument, since they think it wrong to listen to it. It is not intended to recommend presumptuous inquiries into things beyond the reach of our faculties, — attempts to be wise above what is written, — or groundless confidence in the cer- tainty of our conclusions ; but unless reason be employed in ascertaining what doctrines are revealed, humility cannot be exercised in accpiiescing in them ; and there is surely at least as much presumption in measuring everything by our own feelings, fancies, and prejudices, as by our own reasoning-s. Such voluntary humiliation is a prostration, not of ourselves before God, but of one part of ourselves before another part, Essay i.] Annotations. 9 and resembles the idolatiy of the Isi'aelites in the wikleriicss : 'The people d/'q)j)ed tJieiiiselves of their golden ornaments, and cast them into the tire, and there came ont this calf.' Wo ought to remember that the disciples were led by the dictates of a sountl nndei'dandiny to say, ' JS"o man can do these mii'acles that thou (loest, except God be wiih him ;' and thence lo believe, and trust, and obey Jesus impliciily ; but that Peter was led by his heart (that is, his inclinations and prejudices) to say, ' Be it far from thee, Lord ! there shall no such thing happen unto thee.' It is to be remembered also that the intellectual powers are sometimes pressed into the service, as it were, of the feelings, and that a man may be thus misled, in a great measure, through Lis own ingenuity. ' Depend on it,' said a shrewd observer, when inquired of, what was to be expected from a certain man who had been appointed to some high oiiice, and of whose intelligence he thought more favourably than of his uprightness, — ' depend on it, lie will never take any step that is bad, vv^ithout having a very good reason to give for it.' Now it is common to Avarn men — and they are generally ready enough to take the warning — against being thus misled by the ingemiity oi another j but a person of more than ordinary learning and ability needs to be carefully on his guard against being misled by his own. Tliough conscious, })erhaps, of his own power to dress up spe- ciously a bad cause, or an extravagant and lanciful theoi-y, he is conscious also of a corresponding power to distinguish sound reasoning from sophistry. But this will not avail to protect him from convincing himself by ingenious sophistry of his own, if he has allowed himself to adopt some conclusion which pleases his imagination, or favours some passion or self-interest. His own superior intelligence will then be, as I have said, pressed into the service of his inclinations. It is, indeed, no feeble blow that will suffice to destroy a giant ; but if a giant resolves to commit suicide, it is a giant that deals the blow. When, however, we have made up our minds as to the im- portance of seeking in every case for truth with an unprejudiced mind, the greatest difficulty still remains ; which arises from the confidence we are apt to feel that we have already done this, and have sought for truth with success. For every one must of course be convinced of the truth of his own opinion, if it be 10 Of Truth. [Essay i. properly called Ids opinion ; and yet the variety of men's opinions furnishes a proof how many must be mistaken. If any one, then, would guard against mistake, as far as his intel* lectnal faculties will allow, he must make it the jii'st question in each, 'Is this true?' It is not enougli to believe what you maintain; yon mnst maintain what you believe, and maintain it hecause yon believe it ; and that, on the most careful and impartial view of the evidence on both sides. For any one ]miy bring himself to believe almost anything that he is inclined to believe, and thinks it becoming or expedient to nuxintain. Some persons, accordingly, who describe themselves — in one sense, correctly — as ''fuUoio'mg the dictates of conscience,' are doing so only in the same sense in which a person who is driving in a carriage may be said io follow his horses, which go in whatever direction he guides them. It is in a determination to ' obey the truth.' and to follow wherever she may lead, that the genuine love of truth consists; and this can be realized in practice only hj postjxming all other questions to that which ought ever to come foremost — ' What is the truth V If this question be asked only in the second place, it is likely to receive a very different answer from what it would if it had been asked in the first place. The minds of most men are preoccujned by some feeling or other whicli influences their judgment (either on the side of truth or of error, as it may happen) and enlists their learning and ability on the side, whatever it may be, which they are predisposed to adopt. I shall merely enumerate a few of the most common of these feelings that present obstacles to the })ursuit or jn'opaga- tion of truth: — Aversion to donht — desire of a supposed happy medium — the love of system — the dread of the cliaracter of in- consistency — the love of novelty — the dread of innovatiou — undue deference to human authority — the love of approbation, and the dread of censure — regard to seeming expediency. The greatest of all these obstacles to the habit of following truth is the last mentioned — the tendency to look, in the first instance, to the expedient. It is this principle that influences men to the reservation, or to the (so-called) development, but real depravation, of truth ; and that leads to pious frauds in one or other of the two classes into which they naturally fall, of positive and negative— -the one, the introduction and propagation Essay i.] Annotations. 11 of what is false ; the other, the mere toleration of it. lie who propagates a delusion, and he who connives at it when already existing, both alike tamper with truth. We must neither lead nor leave men to mistake falsehood for truth. Not to unde- ceive, is to deceive. The giving, or not correcting, false reasons for right conclusions — false grounds for right belief — false prin-- ciples for right practice ; the holding forth or fostering false consolations, false encouragements, and false sanctions, or con- niving at their being held forth or believed, are all pious frauds. This springs from, and it will foster and increase, a want of veneration for truth ; it is an affront put on ' the S})irit of Truth :' it is a hiring of the idolatrous Syrians to light the battles of the Lord God of Israel. And it is on this ground that we should adhere to the most scrupulous fairness of state- ment and argument. lie who believes that sophistry will always in the end prove injurious to the cause supported by it, is probably right in that belief; but if it be for that reason that he abstains from it, — if he avoid fallacy, wholly or partly, through fear of detection., — it is plain he is no sincere votary of truth. It may be added that numy who would never bring them- selves to say anythijig positively false, yet need to be warned against the falsehood of sui)pression or extenuation ; — against the unfairness of giving what is called a one-sided rej)resen- tation. Among writers (whether of argumentative works or of lictions), oven such as are far from wlioll}' unscrupulous, there are many who seem to think it allowable and right to set forth all the good that is on one side, and all the evil on the other. They compare together, and decide on, the gardens of A and of B, after having culled from the one a nosegay of the choicest flowers, and from the other all the weeds they could spy. And those who object to this, are often regarded as trinnncrs, or lukewarm, or inconsistent. But to such as deal evenhanded justice to both sides, and lay down Scylla and Charybdis in the same chart, — to them, and, generally speak- ing, to them only, it is given to find that the fair coui'se, which they have pursued hecause it is the fair course, is also, in the long run, the most expedient. On the same principle, we are bound never to countenance any erroneous O])iniou, however seemingly beneficial in its re- sults — never to connive at any salutary delusion (as it may ap- 12 Of Truth. [Essay i. pear), but to open the eyes (when opportunity offers, and in proportion as it offers) of ihose we are instrucling-, to any mis- take they may labour under, lliough it may be one which leads them ultimately to a true result, and to one of which they .- might otherwise fail. Tlie temptation to depart fiom this prin- ci})le is sometimes excessively strong, because it will oflen be tlie case that men will be in some danger, in parting wi;h a long-admitted error, of abandoning, at the same time, some truih they have been accustomed to connect \vi;h it. Accord- ingly, censures have been passed on the endeavours to enligh'.en the adherents of some erroneous Chui'ches, on the ground that many of them thence become atheists, and numy, the wildest of fanatics. That this should have been in some instances the case is highly probable; it is a natural result of the jK'i'nicii^us effects on the mind of any system of blind, uninquiring ac(pii- escence ; such a system is an Evil Spirit, which we nnist expect will cruelly rend and nningle the patient as it comes out of liim, and will leave him half dead at its departure. There will often be, and oftener api)ear to be, danger in removing a mis- take ; the danger that those who have been long Ub-ed to act rightly on erroneous principles may fail of the desired conclu- sions when undeceived. In such cases it requires a thorough love of truth, and a tirni reliance on divine support, to adhere steadily to the straight course. If we give way to a dread t)f danger from the inculcation of any truth, ph_ysical, moral, or \ religious, we manifest a want of faith in God's power, or in his \ nil to maintain his own cause. There may be danger attend- ai. ' on every truth, since there is none that may not be per- Vprced by some, or that may not give offence to others; but, in tlie case of anything which plaiidy ai)pears to be truth, every da\iger nmst be braved. We nnist nuiintain the truth as we have received it, and trust to Ilim who is ' the Truth' to prosper and\defend it. That we shall indeed best further his cause by fearless per- sevei'ance in an open and straight course I am firmly persuaded ; but it is not only when we perceive the mischiefs of falsehood and disguise, and the beneficial tendency of fairness and can- dour, that we are to be followers of truth ; the trial of our faith is when we cannot perceive this ; and the part of a lover of Truth is to follow her at all seeming hazards, after the example of Jissay i.] Annotations. 13 Him who ' came into the world that he should hear witness to the Trutli.' This straightforward course nuxy nor, indeed, obtain ' the praise of men.' Courage, liberaliiy, activity, and other good qualities, are offen highly prized by those who do not possess them in any great degree; but the zealous, thorough- going lov'C of truth is not very much admired or liked, or indeed understood, except by those who possess it. But Truth, as Bacon says, 'only doth judge itself,' and, 'howsoever these things are in men's depraved j udgments and affections, it teacheth that the inquiry of Truth, which is the love-making or wooing of it — the knowledge of Trutli, whicli is the presence of it — and the belief of Truth, which is the enjoying of it — is the sovereign good of human nature.'. ' There is no vice that doth so cove?' a man with shame, as to he found false and perjidlous.'' This holds good when falsehood is practised solely for a man's private advantage : but, in a zealous and able partisan, falsehood in the cause of the party will often be pardoned, and even jus'itied. We have lived to see the system called '^^/i^- nakism,^ '' douhle-doctrine,^ or '■economy,'' — that is, saying some- thing quite ditferent from what is inwardly believed,' not only practised, but openly avowed and vindicated, and those who practise it held up as models of pre-eminent holiness, not only by those of their own party, but by others also. A\^hen men Avho have repeatedly brought forwai'd, publicly.^ heavy charges against a certain Church, afterwards open^^ declai-e that those cliarges were what they knew, at the time., to be quite undeserved, they are manifestly proclaiming their own insincerity. Perhaps they did believe — and perhaps they believe still — that those charges are jnst^ and if so, their present disavowal is a falsehood. But if, as they now profess, the charges are what they believed to be calumnious falsehoods, uttered because the same things had heen said hij some eminent divines, and because they were '' necessary for our i^osition^ then, tliey confess themselves ' false and perfidious ;' and yet they are not ' covered with shame.' ' See an excellent discourse oa ' Reserve,' by Arclidcacon "West. See also Cautions for the Times, Ko. xiil M ESSAY II. OF DEATH. /■ EIST fear death as children fear to go into the dark ; and as 'that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other. Certainly, the contemplation of death, as the wages of sin, and passage to another world, is holy and reli- gious ; but the fear of it, as a tribute due unto nature, is weak. Yet in religious meditations there is sometimes mixture of vanity and of superstition. You shall read in some of the friars' books of mortification, that a man should think with himself what the pain is, if he have but his finger's end pressed, or tortured, and thereby imagine what the pains of death are when the whole body is corrupted and dissolved; when many times death passeth with less pain than the torture of a limb — for the most vital parts are not the quickest of sense : and by him that spake only as a philosopher and natural man, it was well said, ' Pompa mortis magis tei'ret quam mors ipsa." Groans, and convulsions, and a discoloured face, and friends weeping, and blacks, and obsequies, and the like, show death terrible. It is worthy the observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man so weak, but it mates" and masters the fear of death ; and therefore death is no such terrible enemy when a man hath so many attendants about him that can win the combat of him. Revenge triumphs over death : love slights it ; honour aspireth to it ; grief flieth to it ; fear pre-occupateth^ it ; nay, we read, after Otlio the emperor had slain himself, pity (which is the tenderest of affections) pro- ' The pomp of death is more terrible than death itself.' Probably suggested by a letter of Seneca to Lucilius, 24. " Mate. To subdue ; vanqnixh ; overpower. ' The Frenchmen he hath so mated. And their courage abated, That they are but half men.' — Skelton. ' My sense she has mated.' — Shakespere. So to give check-mate. ' Preoccupate. To anticipate. ' To provide so tenderly by preoccupation, As no spider may suck poison out of a rose.' — Garnet Essay ii.] Of Death ' 15 voked' many to die out of mere compassion to tlieir sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers. Nay, Seneca adds, niceness and satiety : f Cogita quamdiu eadem feceris ; niori velle, nontan- tum fortis, aut miser, sed etiam fastidiosus potest.'5 \ ' ^ man would die, though he were neither valiant nor miserable, only upon a weariness to do the same thing so oft over and over^) It is no less worthy to observe, how little alteration in good spirits the approaches of death make ; for they appear to be the same men till the last instant. Augustus Caesar died in a compli- ment: 'Livia, conjugii nostri memor vive, et vale.'^ Tilierius in dissimulation, as Tacitus saith of him, ' Jam Tiberium vires et corpus, non dissimulatio, deserebant :'"* Yespasian in a jest sitting upon the stool, 'Ut puto Deus fio:' Galba with a sentence, 'Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani,'^ holding forth his neck: Septimus Severus in dispatch, 'Adeste, si quid mihi restat agendum,^ and tlie like. Certainly the Stoics bestowed too much cost upon death, and by their great preparations made it appear more fearful. Bettei', saith he, 'qui iinem viti^ ex- tremum inter munera ponat naturae.'^ It is as natural to die as to be born ; and to a little infant, perhaps, the one is as painful as the other. lie that dies in an earnest pursuit is like one that is wounded in hot blood ; who, for the time, scarce feels the hurt ; and therefore a mind fixed and bent upon some- what that is good, doth avert the dolours^ of death: but, above all, believe it, the sweetest canticle is, 'Nunc dimittis," when a man 'hath obtained worthy ends and expectations. Death hath this also, tjiat it openeth the gate to good fame, and extin- guisheth envy : ' Extinctus anuibitur idem.'^" ' Provoke. To exite ; to move (to exertion or feeling of any kind, not as now, merely to anger). ' Your zeal hath provoked very many.' — 2 Cor. ix. 2. " Ad Lncil. 77. ' ' Livia mindful of our wedlock, live, and forewell.' — Suetonius, Aug. Vit. c. 100. * His powers and bodily strength had abandoned Tiberius, but not his dissimu- lation.' — Aniial. vi. 50. * ' Strike, if it be for the benefit of the Roman people.' — ^Tacit. Hist. i. 41. * ' Hasten, if anything remains for me to do.' — Bio Can. 76, ad fin. ' ' lie who accounts the close of life among the boons of nature.'-Juv. i>at. x. 357. * Dolours. Pains. 'He drew the d/dours from the wounded part.' — Pope's Homer. * 'Now lettest thou thy servant depart." — Luke il 29. " The same man shall be beloved when dead. 16 Of Death. [Essay ii. ANTITIIETA ON DEATH, Pro. Contra. 'Non invoniasinterhiimanos affectum ' Prfestat ad omnia, etiam ad virtu- tarn piisilluin, qui si iutendatur paulo tern, curriculum longum, quam breve, velieinentius, noil moi'tismetum superet. ^ Jn all thinrjH, even in virtue, a long ' Tliere is no liuman pansion so tveak race is more conducive to success than a and contemptible, that it mai/ not easily short one.' be so heiffhtened as to overcome the fear of death.' ' Absque spatiis vitse majoribus, nee perficere datur, nee perdiseere, nee pcenitere. ' It is onhj ill a lonr/ life, that time is afforded us to complete a>iythinff, to learn anything thoroughly, or to reform oneself ANNOTATIONS. ' There is no passio7i in the mhid of man so weak hut it mates and masters the fear of death.'' Of all the instances that can be given of recklessness of life, there is none that comes near that of the workmen employed in what is called <:Z/'j/-pointing ; the grinding of needles and of table-forks. The fine steel-dust which they breathe brings on a painful disease of which they are almost sure to die before forty. And yet not only are men tempted by high wages to engage in this employment, but they resist to the utmost all the con- trivances devised for diminishing the danger ; through fear that this would cause more workmen to ofier themselves, and thus lower wages ! The case of sailors, soldiers, miners, and others who engage in hazardous employments, is nothing in comparison of this ; because people of a sanguine temper hope to escape the dangers. But the dry-pointers have to encounter, not the risk, but the certainty., of an early and painful death. The thing would seem incredible, if it were not so fully attested. All this proves that avarice overcomes the fear of death. And so may vanity : M'itness the many women who wear tight dresses, and will even employ washes for the complexion which they know to be highly dan- gerous and even destructive to their health. Essay ii.] Annotations. 17 ' Certainly the contemjplation of death., as the wages of sin and the passage to another world., is holy and religious." It is wlien considered as the passage to anotlier world that the conteinphition of death becomes holy and religious ; — that is, calculated to promote a state of preparedness for our setting out on this great voyage, — our departure from this world to enter the other. It is manifest that those who are engrossed with the things that pertain to this life alone ; who are devoted to worldly pleasure, to worldly gain, honour, or power, are cer- tainly not pi-eparing themselves for the passage into another : while it is equally manifest that the change of heart, of desires, wishes, tastes, thoughts, dispositions, which constitutes a meet- ness for entrance into a happy, holy, heavenly state, — the hope of which can indeed ' mate and master the fear of death,' — must take place here on earth ; not after death. Tliere is a remarkable phenomenon connected with insect life which has often occurred to my mind while meditating on the subject of preparedness for a future state, as presenting a curious analogy. Most persons know that every hutterfly (the Greek name for which, it is remarkable, is the same that signifies also the Soid., — Psyche) comes from a grub or caterpillar ; in the language of naturalists called a larva. The last name (which signifies lite- rally a masJi) was introduced by Linnaeus, because the cater- pillar is a kind of outward covering, or disguise, of the future butterfly within. For, it has been ascertained by curious micro- scopic examination, that a distinct butterfly, only undeveloped and not full-grown, is contained within the body of the cater- pillar ; that this latter has its own organs of digestion, respira- tion, &c., suitable to its larva-life, quite distinct from, and independent of, the future butterfly which it encloses. When the proper period arrives, and the life of the insect, in this its first stage, is to close, it becomes what is called a pupa, enclosed in a chrysalis or cocoon (often composed of silk ; as is that of the silkworm which supplies us that important article,) and lies torpid for a time within this natural cofiin, from which it issues, at the proper period, as a perfect butterfly. But sometimes this process is marred. There is a nuineroua 2 18 Of Death. [Essay ii. tribe of insects well known to naturalists, called Ichneumon- flies ; which in their larva-state ^v% parasitical j that is, inhal)it, and feed on, other larvae. The ichneumon-fly, being provided with a long sharp sting, which is in fact an ovi/positor (egg- layer,) pierces with this the body of a caterpillar in several places, and deposits her eggs, which are there hatched, and feed, as grubs (larvse) on the inward parts of their victim, A most wonderful circumstance connected with this process is, that a caterpillar which has been thus attacked goes on feeding, and apparently thriving quite as well, during the whole of its larva-life, as those that have escaped. For, by a wonderful provision of instinct, the ichneumon-grubs within do not injure any of the organs of the larva, but feed only on the future butterfly enclosed within it. And consecpiently, it is hardly possible to distinguish a catei'jDillar which has these enemies within it from those that are untouched. — But when the period arrives for the close of the larva-life, the diiference appears. You may often observe the common cabbage-caterpillars retir- ing, to undergo their change, into some sheltered spot, — sucli as the walls of a summer-house ; and some of them — those that have escaped the parasites, — assuming the i^upa-state, from which they emerge, butterflies. Of the unfortunate caterpillar that has been preyed upon, nothing remains but an empty skin. The hidden butterfly has been secretly consumed. ISTow is there not something analogous to this wonderful phenomenon, in the condition of some of our race % — may not a man have a kind of secret enemy within his own bosom, destroying his soul, — Psyche., — though without interfering with his well-being during the present stage of his existence ; and whose presence may never be detected till the time arrives when the last great change should take place ? '•Death hath this also, that it openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy.'' Bacon might have added, that the generosity extended to the departed is sometimes carried rather to an extreme. To abstain from censure of them is fair enough. But to make an ostentatious parade of the supposed admirable qualities of persons who attracted no notice in their life-time, and again (which is much more common,) to publish laudatory biographies Essay ii.] Annotations. 19 (to say notlihig of raising subscriptions for monumental testi- monials) of persons who did attract notice in a disreputable way, and respecting whom it would have been the kindest thing to let them be forgotten, — this is surely going a little too far. But private friends and partizans are tempted to pursue this course by the confidence that no one will come forward to con- tradict them : according to the lines of Swift, — . ' De mortals nil nisi bomim ; ' When scoundrels die, let all bemoan 'em.' Then, again, there are some who bestow eulogisms that are really just on persons whom they had always been accustomed to revile, calumniate, thwart, and persecute on every occasion ; and this they seem to regard as establishing their own character for eminent generosity. Nor are they usually mistaken in their calculation ; for if not absolutely commended for their magnanimous moderation, they usually escape, at least, the well-deserved reproach for not having done justice, during his life, to the object of their posthumous praises, — for having been occupied in opposing and insulting one who — by their own showing — deserved quite contrary treatment. It may fairly be suspected that the one circumstance respect- ing him which they secretly dwell on with the most satisfaction, though they do not mention it, is that he is dead; and that they delight in bestowing their posthumous honours on him, chiefly because they are jposthumous ; according to the concluding couplet in the Yerses on the Death of Dean Swift : — ' And since you dread no further lashes, Methinks you may forgive his ashes.' But the Public is wonderfully tolerant of any persons who will but, in any way, speak favourably of the dead, even when by so doing they pronounce their own condemnation. Sometimes, however, the opposite fault is committed. Strong party feeling will lead zealous partizans to misrepresent the con- duct and character of the deceased, or to ignore (according to the modern phrase) some of the most remarkable things done by him.' But then they generally put in for the praise of generosity by eulogizing some very insignificant acts, and thus ' damn with foint praise.' * See an instance of this alluded to in the Remains of Bishop Copleston. pp. 89-03. ESSAY III. OF UNITY IN RELIGION. "D ELIGION being the chief bond of human society, it is a -*-*^ liappy thing when itself is well contained within the true bond of unity. The quarrels and divisions about religion were evils unknown to the heathen. The reason was, because the j^ligion of the heathen consisted rather in rites and ceremonies than in any constant belief ; for you may imagine what kind of faith theirs was, when the chief doctors^ and fathers of their church were the poets. But the true God hath this attribute, that He is a jealous God;^ and therefore his worship and reli- gion will endure no mixture nor partner. We shall therefore speak a few words concerning the unity of the Church ; what are the fruits thereof ; what the bonds ; and what the means. The fruits of unity (next unto the well-pleasing of God, which is all in all) are two ; the one towards those that are without the Church, the other towards those that are within. For the former, it is certain that heresies and schisms are of all others the greatest scandals, yea, more than corruption of manners ; for as in the natural body a wound or solution of continuity' is worse than a corrupt humour, so in the spiritual : so that nothing doth so much keep men out of the Church, and drive men out of the Church, as breach of unity; and, there- fore, whensoever it cometli to that j)ass that one saith, 'Ecco in deserto,'* another saith, ' Ecce in penetralibus," — that is, when some men seek Christ in the conventicles of heretics, and others in an outward face of a church, that voice had need continually to sound in men's ears, 'Nolite exire.'® The Doctor of the Gentiles (the propriety'' of whose vocation^ drew him to * Doctors. Teachers. ' Sitting in tlie midst of the doctors.' — Luke ii. 46. ' Exodus XX. 5. ^ Solution of continuity. The destruction of the texture, or cohesion of the parts of an animal hodi/. ' The solid parts may be contracted by dissolving their con- tinuity.' — Arbuihnot. * 'Lo! in the desert.' ^ 'Lo! in the sanctuary.' — Matt. xxiv. 26. * ' Go not out.' ' Propriety. Peculiar quality ; property. " Vocation. Callinri ; state of life and duties of the embraced profession. ' Tliat every member of thy holy Church in his vocation and ministry.' — Collect for Good Friday Essay iii.] Of Unity in Religion. 21 have a special care of those without) saith, ' If a heathen come in, and hear you speak with several tongues, will he not say that you are niad?'^ and, certainly, it is little better, when atheists and profane persons do hear of so many discordant and contrary opinions in religion, it doth avert^ them from the Church, and maketh them ' to sit down in the chair of the scorners.' It is but a li(]:ht thine: to be vouched in so serious a matter, but yet it expresseth well the deformity ; there is a master of scothng, that in his catalogue of books of a feigned library, sets down this title of a book. The Morris-Dance of Heretics ;^ for, indeed, every sect of them hath a diverse'' pos- ture, or cringe,^ by themselves, which cannot but move derision in worldlings and depraved politics,^ Vi^ho are apt to contemn holy things. As for the fruit towards those that are within, it is peace, which containeth infinite blessings; it establisheth faith; it kindleth charity ; the outward peace of the Church distilleth into peace of conscience, and it turneth the labours of writing and reading controversies into treatises of mortification''' and devotion. Concerning the bonds of unity, the true placing- of them importetli^ exceedingly. There appear to be two extremes ; for to certain zealots all speech of pacification is odious. 'Is it peace, Jehu V ' What hast thou to do with peace ? turn thee ' 1 Cor. xiv. 23. ^ Avert. To repel ; to turn aivat/. ' Even cut themselves off from all opportu- nities of jiroselyting others by oncrtmy them from their company.' — Venn. ' Rabelais. Pantae/. ii. 7. * Diverse. Different. ' Four great beasts came up fi'om the sea, diverse one from another.' — Daniel vii. 3. * Cringe. A bow. Seldom used as a substantive. ' Far from me Be fawning ci'inge, and folse dissembling looks.' — Phillipn. ' He is the new court-god, and well applyes AVith sacrifice of knees, of crooks, and cringe.' — Ben Jonxon. * Politics. Politicianx. ' That which time severs and politics do for earthly advantages, we will do for spiritual.' — Bishop Hall. * Mortification. Tlie subduing of sinful propensities. (Our modern use never occurs in Scripture, where the word always means ' to put to death.' ' You see no real mortification, or self-denial, or eminent charity in the common lives of Christians.' — Lawe. * Import. To be of loeight or consequence. ' What else more serious Importeth thee to know — this hdAi-s.^-Shakespere. 22 Of Laity in Religion. [Essay iii. beliind me." Peace is not the matter, but following and party. Contrariwise, certain Laodiceans and lukewarm persons think they may accommodate^ points of religion by middle ways, and taking part of both, and witty^ reconcilements, as if thej'^ would make an arbitrement^ between God and man. Both these extremes are to be avoided ; which will be done if the league of Christians, penned by our Saviour Himself, were in the two cross clauses thereof soundly and plainly expounded : ' He that is not with us is against us ;' and again, ' He that is not against us is with us ;' that is, if the points fundamental, and of substance in religion, were truly discerned and distinguished from points not merely^ of faith, but of opinion, order, or good intention. This is a thing may seem to many a matter trivial, and done already ; but if it were done less partially, it would be embraced more generally. Of this I may give only this advice, according to my small model. Men ought to take heed of rending God's Church by two kinds of controversies ; the one is, when the matter of the point controverted is too small and light, nor worth the heat and strife about it, kindled only by contradiction ; for, as it is noted by one of the fathers, Christ's coat indeed had no seam, but the Church's vesture was of divers colours ; whereupon he saith, ' In veste varietas sit, scissura non sit,"'^they be two things, unity, and uniformity ; the other is, when the matter of the point controverted is great, but it is driven to an over-great subtilty and obscurity, so that it becometh a thing rather ingenious than substantial. A man that is of judgment and understanding shall sometimes hear ignorant men differ, and know well within himself, that those which so differ mean one thing, and yet they themselves would never agree ; and if it come so to pass in that distance of judgment which is between man and man, shall we * 1 Kings ix. 13. " Accommodate. To reconcile what seems inconsistent. ' Part know how to accommodate St. James and St. Paul better than some late reconcilers.' — Norris. ^ W^itty. Inr/enious ; inventive. ' The deep-revolving witft/ Buckingham.' — Shakespere. * Arbitremeut. Final decision ; judgment. ' We of the offending side Must keep aloof from strict arbitrements.' — Shakespere. ^ Merely. Absolutely ; purehj ; unreservedly, (from the Latin merus.') ' We are merely cheated of our lives by drunkards.' — Shakespere. * ' Let there be variety in the robe, but let there be no rent.' Essay iii.] Of Unity in Religion. 23 not till" Ilk that God above, tliat knows tlie heart, doth not discern that frail men, in some of their contradictions, intend the same thing and accepteth' of both? The nature of such", controversies is excellently expressed by St. Paul, in the warn- ing and precept that he giveth concerning the same, ' Devita profanas vocum novitates et oppositiones falsi nominis scientise.'^ Men create oppositions which are not, and put them into new terms so fixed ; as^ whereas the meaning ought to govern the term, the term in eflect governeth the meaning. There be also two false peaces, or unities : the one, when the peace is grounded but upon an implicit ignorance ; for all colours will agree in the dark : the other, when it is pieced up upon a direct admission of contraries in fundamental points ; for truth and falsehood in such things are like the iron and clay in the toes of Nebuchadnezzar's image" — they may cleave but they will not incorporate. Concerning the means of procuring unity, men must beware, that, in the procuring or muniting* of religious unity, they do not dissolve and deface the laws of charity and of human society. There be two swoi'ds amongst Christians, the spiritual and the temporal, and both have their due otfice and place in the maintenance of religion ; but we may not take up the third sword, which is Mahomet's sword, or like unto it — that is, to proj)agate religion by wars, or by sanguinary persecutions to force consciences — except it be in cases of overt scandal, blas- phemy, or intermixture of practice against the state ; much less to nourish seditions ; to authorise consj^iracies and rebellions ; to put the sword into the people's hands, and the like, tending to the subversion of all government, which is the ordinance of ' Accept of. To approve; receive favoicrabh/. 'I will appease him with the present that goeth before me, . . . peradventure he will acce]>t of me.' — Gen. xxxii. * ' Avoid profane and vain babblings^aud oppositions of science falsely so called.' 1 2hn. vi. 20. ' That {denoting conacquence). ' The mariners were so conq\iered by the storm as they thought it best with stricken sails to yield to be governed by it.' — Sidney * Daniel ii. 33. ' Muniting. The defending, fortifying. ' By protracting of tyme, King Henry might fortify and "nicnite all dangerous places and passages.' — Hall. ' All that fight against her and her munitions.' — Jeremiah xxix. 7. * The arm our soldier. Our steed the leg, the tongue our trumpeter, With other muniments and petty helps.' — Shakespere, 24 Of Unity in Meligion. [Essay iii. God ; for this is but to dash the first table against the second ; and so to consider men as Christians, as' we forget that they are men. Lncretins the poet, when he beheld tlie act of Aga- memnon, that could endure the sacrificing of his own daughter, exclaimed : 'Tantum religio potiiit suadere malorum.'^ What would he have said, if he liad known of the massacre in France, or the powder treason of England ? He would have been seven times more epicure^ and atheist than he was ; for as the temporal sword is to be drawn with great circumspection in cases of religion, so it is a thing monstrous to put it into the hands of the common people ; let that be left to the anabaptists and other furies. It was great blasphemy when the devil said, ' I will ascend and be like the Highest ;^ but it is greater blasphemy to personate God, and bring Him in saying, ' I will descend and be like the prince of darkness :' and what is it better, to make the cause of religion to descend to the cruel and execrable actions of murdering princes, butchery of people, and subversion of states and governments ? Surely this is to bring down the Holy Ghost, instead of the likeness of a dove, in the shape of a vulture or raven ; and to set out of the bark of a christian church, a flag of a bark of pirates and assassins : therefore it is most necessary that the Church, by doctrine and decree, princes by their sword, and all learning, both christian and moral, as by their mercury rod to damn and send to hell for ever, those facts and opinions tending to the support of the same, as hath been already in good ])art done. Surely in councils concerning religion, that counsel of the apostle should be prefixed, 'Ira hominis non implet justitiam Dei;'* and it was a notable observation of a wise father, and no less in- genuously confessed, that those which held and persuaded® pressure of consciences, were commonly interested therein themselves for their own ends. • ' As. That. See page 23. ^ ' So many evils could religion induce.' — Lucret. i. 95. ^ Epicure. Epicurean; a follower of Epicurun. 'Here he describeth the fury of the Epicures, which is the highest and deepest mischief of all ; even to eon- tempne the very God.' ^ Isaiah xiv. 14. '' ' The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God.' — James i. 20. " Persuade. To inculcate. 'To children afraid of vain images, we persno/de confidence by making them handle and look near such things.' — Bishop Taylor. Essay iii.] Annotations. 25 ANNOTATIONS. ' It is a haj)py thing when Heligion is well contained within the true hand of unity ^^ It is, therefore, very important to have a clear notion of the nature of the christian unity spoken of in the Scriptures, and to understand in what this 'true bond of unity' consists, so often alhided to and earnestly dwelt on by our Sacred Writers. The unity they speak of does not mean agreement in doctrine^ nor yet concord and mutual good will ; though these are strongly insisted on by the apostles. Nor, again, does it mean that all Christians belong, or ought to belong, to some one society on earth. This is what the apostles never aimed at, and what never was actually the state of things, from the time that the christian religion extended beyond the city of Jerusalem. The Church is undoubtedly one^ and so is the human race one / but not as a society or community, for, as such, it is only 07ie wdien considered as to its future existence.^ The teaching of Scripture clearly is, that believers on earth are part of a great society (church or congregation), of which the Head is in heaven, and of which many of the members only 'live unto God,' or exist in his counsels, — some having long since departed, and some being not yet born. The universal Church of Christ may therefore be said to be ONE in reference to HIM, its supreme Head in heaven i but it is not one community on earth. And even so the human race is one in respect of the One Creator and Governor i but this does not make it one family or one state. And though all men are bound to live in 2)eace, and to be kindly disposed towards every fellow creature, and all bound to agree in thinking and doing whatever is right, yet they are not at all bound to live under one single govermnent, extending over the whole world. Nor, again, are all nations bound to have the same form of government, regal or republican, &c. That is a matter left to their discretion. But all are bound to do their best to promote the great ohjeets for which all government is instituted, — good order, justice, and public prosperity. ' Great part of what follows is extracted from a Charge of some j'ears hack. '■' See Bisliop Hind's History of the Origin of Christianity/. 26 Of Unity in Religion. [Essay iii. And even so the Apostles founded eliristian churches, all based on .the same principles, all sharing common privileges, — • 'One Lord, one faith, one baptism,' — and all having the same object in view, but all quite independent of each other. And while, by the inspiration of Him who knew wdiat was in Man, they delineated those christian principles which Man could not have devised for himself, each Church has been left, by the same divine foresight, to make the application of those prin- ciples in its symbols, its forms of worship, and its ecclesiastical regulations ; and, while steering its course by the chart and compass which his holy Word supplies, to regulate for itself the sails and rudder, according to the winds and currents it may meet with. JSTow, I have little doubt that the sort of variation resulting from this independence and freedom, so far from breaking the bond, is the best preservative of it. A number of neighbouring families, living in j)erfect unity, will be thrown into discord as soon as you compel them to form one family, and to observe in things intrinsically indifferent, the same rules. One, for instance, likes early hours, and another late ; one likes the win- dows open, and another shut ; and thus, by being brought too close together, they are driven into ill-will, by one being per- petually forced to give way to another. Of this character were the disputations which arose (though they subsequently assumed a diflPerent character) about church music, the posture of the communicants, the colours of a minister's dress, the time of keeping Easter, &c. Tliis independence of each Church is not to be confounded with the error of leaving too much to individual discretion of the minister or members of each Church. To have absolutely no terms of communion at all, — no tests of the fitness of any one to be received as a member, or a minister of each Church respectively, — would be to renounce entirely the character of a christian Church ; since of such a body it is plain that a Jew, a Polytheist, or an Atheist might, quite as consistently as a (yhristian, be a member, or even a governor. %nd though the Scriptures, and the Scriptures only, are to be appealed to for a decision on questions of doctrine, yet to have (as some have wildly proposed) no test of communion but the very words of Scripture, would be scarcely less extravagant than having no Essay iii.] Annotations. ' 27 test at all, since there is no one professing Christianity who does not maintain that his sentiments are in accordance with the true meaning of Scripture, however absurd or pernicious these sentiments may really be. For it is notorious that Scripture itself is at least as liable as human formularies (and indeed more so) to have forced interpretations put on its language. Accordingly, there is no Christian community which does not, in some way or other, apply some other test besides the very words of Scripture. Some Churches, indeed, do not reduce any such test to writing, or express it in any Jixed form, so as to enable every one to know beforehand precisely how much he will l)e recpiired to bind himself to. But, never- theless, these Churches do apply a test, and very often a much more stringent, elaborate, and minute test than our Liturgy and Articles. In such communities, the candidate pastor of a congregation is not, to be sure, called on to subscribe in writing a definite confession of faith, drawn up by learned and pious persons after mature deliberation, and publicly set forth by common authority, — but he is called upon to converse with the leading members of the congregation, and satisfy them as to the soundness of his views ; not, of course, by merely repeating texts of Scripture — which a man of any views might do, and do honestly ; but by explaining the sense in which he understands the Scriptures. Thus, instead of subscribing the Thirty-nine Articles, he subscribes the sentiments of the leading members — for the time being — of that particular congregation over which he is to be placed as teacher.^ And thus it is that tests of some kind or other, written or unwritten (that is, transmitted by oral ta-adition), fixed for the M'hole Body, or variable, according to the discretion of par- ticular governors, are and must be, used in every Christian Church. This is doing no more than is evidently allowaljle and exj)edient. But it is quite otherwise when any Church, by an unwarrantable assumption, requires all who would claim ' CautioyiK for the Times, page 451. I have known, accordingly, a minister of a continental Protestant Church strongly object to all subscriptions to Articles, say- ing, that a man should only be called on to profess his belief in Jesus Christ; and yet, a few minutes afterwards, denouncing as a 'Rationalist' another Protestant minister. 28 Of Unity in Religion. [Essay iii. the christian name to assent to her doctrines and conform to her worship, whether they approve of tliem or not, — to renounce all exercise of their own judgment, and to profess belief in what- ever the Church has received or may hereafter receive. ' The religion of the heathen consisted rather in rites and cere- monies than i)i any constant religious belief. . . . £ut the true God hath this attribute,^ c&c. Bacon here notices the characteristic that distinguishes the Christian religion from the reli£::ion of the heathen. The reli- gion of tlie heathen not only was not true, but was not even supported as true ; it not only deserved no belief, but it demanded none. The very pretension to truth — the very demand of faith — were characteristic distinctions of Christianity. It is Truth resting on evidence, and requiring belief in it, on tlie ground of its truth. The first object, therefore, of the adherents of such a religion must be that Truth which its divine Author pointed out as defining the very nature of his kingdom, of his objects, and of his claims. 'For this cause came I into the world, that I might bear witness unto the truth. Every one that is of the truth heareth my voice.'^ And if Ti'uth could be universally attained. Unity would be attained also, since Truth is one. On the other hand, Unity may conceivably be attained by agreement in error ; so that while by the universal adoption of a right faith, unity would be secured, incidentally, the attain- ment of unity Avould be no security for truth. It is in relation to the paramount claim of truth that the view we have given of the real meaning of Church Unity in Scripture is of so much importance ; for the mistake of repre- senting it as consisting in having one community on earth, to which all Christians belong, or ought to belong, and to whose government all are bound to submit, has led to truth being made the secondary, and not the paramount, object. What the Romanist means by renouncing ' j^rivate judgment' and adhering to the decisions of the Church is, substantially, what many Protestants express by saying, ' We make trutJi the first and paramount object, and the others, unity.'' The two expressions, when rightly understood, denote the same ; but ^ John xviiL 3*7. Essay iii.] Annotations. 29 they each require some explanation to prevent their being- understood incorrectly, and even unfairly. A Roman Catholic does exercise private judgment, once for all, if (not through carelessness, but on earnest and solemn deliberation) he resolves to place himself completely under the guidance of that Church (as represented by his priest) which he j^idges to have been divinely appointed for that purpose. And in so doing he considers himself, not as manifesting indifference about truth, but as taking the way by which he will attain either complete and universal religious truth, or at least a greater amount of it than could have been attained otherwise. To speak of such a person as indifferent about truth, would be not only uncharitable, but also as unreasonable as to suj)pose a man indifferent about his health, or about his jDroperty, because, distrusting his own judgment on points of medicine or of law, he places himself under the direction of those whom he has judged to be the most trustworthy physician and lawyer. On the other hand, a Protestant, in advocating private judg- ment, does not, as some have represented, necessarily maintain that every man should set himself to study and interpret for himself the Scriptures (which, Ave should recollect, are written in the Hebrew and Greek languages), without seeking or acceptmg aid from any instructors, whether under the title of translators (for a translator, who claims no inspiration, is, mani- festly, a human instructor of the people as to the sense of Scripture), or whether called commentators, preachers, or by whatever other name. Indeed, considering the multitude of tracts, commentaries, expositions, and discourses of various forms, that have been put forth and assiduously circulated by Protestants of all denominations, for the avowed purpose (be it well or ill executed) of giving religious instruction, it is really strange that such an interpretation as I have alluded to should ever have been put on the phrase 'private judgment.' For, to advert to a parallel case of daily occurrence, all would recom- menil a student of mathematics, for instance, or of any branch of natural philosophy, to seek the aid of a well-qualified pro- fessor or tutor. And yet he would be thought to have studied in vain, if he should ever think of taking on trust any mathe- matical or physical truth on the M^ord of his instructors. It is. on the contrary, their part to teach him, how — by demonstration or by experiment — to verify each point for himself. 30 Of Unity in Religion. [Essay iii. Od tlie other liand, the adherents of a Church claiming to be infalKble on all essential points, and who, consequently, profess to renounce private judgment, these (besides thatj as has been just said, they cannot but judge for themselves as to one point — that very claim itself) have also room for the exercise of judgment, and often do exercise it, on questions as to what points are essential, and for which, consequently, infallible rectitude is insured. Thus the Jansenists, when certain doctrines were pronounced heretical by the Court of Rome, which con- demned Jansenius for maintaining them, admitted, as in duty bound, the decision that they were heretical, but denied that they were implied in Jansenius's writings ; and of this latter point the Pope, they said, was no more qualiiied or authorised to decide than any other man. And we should be greatly mistaken if we were to assume that all who have opposed what we are accustomed to call ' the Reformation' were satisfied that there was nothing in their Church that needed reform, or were necessarily indifferent about the removal of abuses. We know that, on the contrary, many of them pointed out and complained of, and studied to have remedied, sundry corruptions that had crept into their Church, and wliich were, in nuiny instances, sanctioned by its highest authorities. Sincere, one must suppose, and strong, must have been the conviction of several who both did and suiiered much in labour- ing after such remedy. And it would be absurd, as well as uncharitable, to take for granted that Erasmus, for instance, and, still more, Pascal, and all the Jansenists, were withheld merely by personal fear, or other personal motives, from revolt- ing against the Church of Rome. But they conceived, no doubt, that what they considered Church-Unity was to be pre- served at any cost ; that a separation from what they regarded as the Catholic (or Universal) Church, was a greater evil than all others combined. If, without loss of unity, they could suc- ceed in removing any of those other evils, for such a reform they would gladly labour. But, if not, to Unity anything and everything was to be sacrificed. Such seems to have been the sentiment of a Roman Catholic priest, apparently a man of great simplicity of character, who, about three or four years ago, had interviews, at his own desire, Essay iii.] Annotations. 31 M'itli several of our bishops. He spoke very strongly of the unseemiiigly and lamentable spectacle (and who could not but ao^ree with him in thinkino; it?) of disunion and contention among Christ's professed followers ; and he dwelt much upon tlie duty of earnestly praying and striving for unity. In reference to this point, it was thought heedful to remind him, that two parties, while apparently agreeing in their prayers and endeavours for unity, might possibly mean by it different things; the one understanding by it the submission of all Christians to the government of one single ecclesiastical com- munity on earth ; the other, merely mutual kindness and agree- nieut in faith. Several passages of Scripture were pointed out to him, tending to prove that the churches founded by the Apostles were all quite independent of each other, or of any one central Body. To one among the many passages which go to prove this, I directed his especial attention; that in which Paul's final interview (as he believed it) with the elders of Miletus and Ephesus is recorded {Acts xx.). Foreseeing the dangers to which they would be exposed, even from false teach- ers amongst themselves, and of which he had been earnestly warning them for three years, it is inconceivable that he should not have directed them to Peter or his successors at Rome or elsewhere, if he had known of any central supreme Church, pro- vided as an infallible guide, to whose decisions they might Bafely refer when doubts or disputes should arise. It follows therefore inevitably that he knew of none. But all Christians were exhorted to 'keep the unity of the spirit in the bond of peace.' Such unity, lie was reminded (for he w^as formerly a minister of our Church), is the subject of a special petition in our Prayer for all Conditions of Men ^ and in several others. It was remarked to him, that Truth had a paramount claim to be the first object; and that since Truth is one, all who reach Truth will reach Unity ; but that men may, and often do, gain Unity without Truth. He was reminded, moreover, that agreement among Chris- tians, though an object we should wish for, and endeavour by all allowable means to promote, must, after all, depend on others as much as on ourselves ; and our endeavour may be com- pletely defeated through their fault : whereas truth is a benefit — and a benefit of the first importance — to those who receive it 32 Of Unity in Religion. [Essay iii. themselves, even tliongli they should have to lament its rejection by many others. And it was pointed out to him, that to pray and strive for truth ; and to be ever open to conviction, does not (as he seemed to imagine) imply a wavering faith, and an anticipation of change. Wiien any one prints from moveaUe types^ this does not iniply that he has committed, or that he suspects, typogra- phical errors, any more than if he had employed an engraved plate. Tlie types are not moveable in the sense of being loose and liable to casual change. He may be challenging all the world to point out an error, showing that any can be corrected if tliey do detect one ; though, perhaps, he is fully convinced that there are none. He was, in conclusion, reminded that 'no man can serve two masters;' not because they are necessarily opposed^ but because they are not necessarily combined, and cases may arise in which the one must give way to the other. There is no necessary opposition even between ' God and Mammon,' if by ' Mammon' ^e understand worldly prosperity. For it will commonly happen that a man will thrive the better in the world from the honesty, frugality, and temperance which he may be practising from higher motives. And there is not even anything necessarily wrong in aiming at temporal advantages. But whoever is resolved on obtaining wealth in one way or another (' si possis, recte ; si non, quocunque modo, rem') will occasionally be led to violate duty ; and he, again, who is fully bent on 'seekino; first the kingdom of God and his riirhteous- ness,' will sometimes find himself called on to incur temporal losses. And so it is with the occasionally rival claims of Truth, and of Unity, or of any two objects which may possibly be, in some instance, opposed. We must make up our minds which is, in that case, to give way. One must be the supreme, — must be the ' master.' ' Either he will love th^ one and hate the other.' This seems to refer to cases in wdiicli a radical opposition between the two does exist : ' or else he will cleave to the one, and despise (^. e. disregard and neglect) the other.' This latter seems to be the description of those cases in which there is no such necessary opposition ; only, that cases will sometimes arise, in which the one or the other must be disregarded. Essay iii.] Annotations. 33 ' When Atheists and x>rofane persons do hear of so many and con- trary opinions in religion, it doth avert them from the Church.^ One may meet with persons, not a few, who represent reh- gious differences as, properly speaking, designed by tlie Most lligh, and acceptable to Him. (See the extract from the tragedy of Tamerlane in the Annotations on Essay XVI.) Thns, in a very popular children's book (and such books often make an impression which is, unconsciously, retained through life), there is a short tale of a father exhibiting to his son the diversities of worship among Christians of different denominations, and afterwards their uniting to aid a distressed neighbour. The one, he tells the child, is ' a thing in which men are born to differ ; and the other, one in which they are born to agree.' ^Noav it is true that persons of different persuasions nuiy, and often do, agree in practising the duties of humanity. But that they do not often differ, and differ vqry widely, not only in their natural conduct, but in their j)rinciples of conduct, is notoriously untrue. The writer of the tale must have over- looked (or else meant his readers to overlook) the cruel abomi- nations of Paganism, ancient and modern, — the human sacri- fices offered by some Pagans — the widow-burning and other atrocities of the Hindus ; and (to come to the case of j)ro- fessed Christians) the 'holy wars' against the Huguenots and the Yaudois, the Inquisition, and all the other instances of persecution practised as a point of christian duty. Certainly, in whatever sense it is true that men are ' born to differ' in religion, in the same sense it is true that they are ' born to differ' in their moral practice as enjoined by their religion. Somewhat to the same purpose writes the author of an able article in the Edinhui'gh lieviev), and also of an article on this volume, in the North British (Aug. 1857, p. 6), with whom I partly agree and partly not. This writer maintains (1) that all, or nearly all, the divisions that have existed among Christians relate to points of a pro- foundly mysterious, and 2)urely sjjeculative character. (2.) That on these points the language of Scripture is so obscure or ambiguous, that we must infer the Author of the revelation to have designed that it should receive different 3 34 Of Unity in Religion. [Essay iii. interpretations ; while, on all matters of practical morality, the language is too plain to admit of doubt or dilFerence of opinion. (3.) That the dissent and schisms arising from diversity of interpretations of Scripture are on the whole beneficial ; because, the union of great masses of men in one conmiunity does not tend to their improvement, but the contrary. (4.) Tliat the inexpediency of persecution may be demon- strated by an argument of universal application, — one to which a Mahometan or a Pagan must ,yield, as well as a Roman Catholic or a Protestant; namely, the impossibility of demon- strating that what is persecuted is really error. With all this, as I have said, I partly concur, and partly not. (I.) It is very true, and is a truth which I have most ear- nestly dwelt on in many publications, that what \^ jpraotical in the christian revelation is clearly, and fully, and frequently set forth ; and that, on matters more of a speculative character, we find in Scripture only slight and obscure hints.* But nevertheless it cannot be admitted that no passages of a practical character have been variously interpreted ; or that all, or nearly all, or all the most important, of the differences that have divided Cliristians, relate to questions purely specu- lative. Take, as one instance, that very early and very wide- spread heresy of the Gnostics ; most of whom were rank Antinomians, teaching that they, as ' knowing the Gospel' — (whence their name), — were exempt from all moral duty, and would be accounted righteous by imputation, without ' doing righteousness.' ^ These, John in his Epistles manifestly had in view ; and no doubt Peter also, when he speaks of those who ' wi-est the Scriptures,' especially Paul's Epistles, ' to their own destruc- tion.' They, doubtless, as well as tlieir successors (for, under various names Antinomians have always arisen from time to time down to this day),^ interpreted in their own way Paul's doctrine that we 'are justified by faith, without the works of the law.' Considering how earnestly that Apostle dwells on the necessity of 'denying ungodliness and worldly lusts, and living soberly and righteously,' it may seem very strange that * This circumstance is pointed out as characteristic of our religion, in the Essay (1st Series) on the 'Practical Cliavacter of Revelation,' and also in the Lectures on ' A Future State.' " See Johyi, Epis. i. 'See Cautions for the Times, No. 26. Essay iii.] Annotations. 35 his language slionld have been thus ' wrested ;' and tliat he should have been thought to be speaking of himself individually, in his then state, as being ' carnal, sold under sin,' when he had just before been congratulating his hearers on being ' made free from sin,' and just after, speaks of his walking 'not after the flesh, but after the spirit.' ' But the fact, however strange, cannot be denied. And it is as to the matter oi fact that the question now is. For if it be said that such and such passages are not ' susceptible of various interpretations' according to reasonable princijples^ this is what most of the contending parties will be disposed to say, each, of the texts they appeal to. They usually maintain, that to a fair and intellUjent judge they do not admit of an}' interpretation but that which they themselves adopt. We can only reply, that, in point o^fact, they have been variously interpreted. It is probable, indeed, that, in very many instances, the various interpretations of Scriptnre have been not the cause, but the effect of men's differences ; and that, having framed certain theories according to their own inclinations or fancies, they have then sought to force Scripture into a support of these. But still the fact remains, that men have differed in their interpretations of Scripture, on the most important practical questions. Again, those Anabaptists who taught community of goods, and who were thus striking at the root of all civil society, made their appeal to Scripture.^ So also do those who teach the doctrine of complete non-resistance ; the consequence of which, if adopted by any one nation, would be to give up the peace- able as a prey to their unscrupulous neighbonrs. And so again do those who advocate vows of celibacy.' Again, the Scripture exhortations to ' unity' have been inter- preted by some as requiring all Christians to live nnder a single ecclesiastical government ; and the passages relating to the Church,* and to the powers conferred on the Apostles, as obliging us to renounce all private judgment, and submit implicitly to whatever is decreed by the (snpposed) Catholic Church. Now this is most emphatically a practical question, * Rrnn. viii. ' AcU iv., xix., M(dt. xxiv., and Mark x. 21. ^ Mail. xLx. 12, and ^ Cor. vii. * Mail. xvi. 18. and xviii. 17. 36 Of Unity in Heligion. [Essay iii. since it involves, not this or that particuhir point of pi'actice, but an indefinite number. Those who adopt the above inter- pretations must be prepared to acquiesce, at the bidding of their ecclesiastical rulers, in any the most gross superstitions and the most revolting moral corruptious, however disapproved by their own judgment, rather than exclude themselves (as they think) altogether from the Gospel-covenant. And the difference between Christians as to this point, which for so many ages has divided so many millions, may be considered as not only the most important of all the divisions that have ever existed, but even greater than all the rest put together. It cannot, therefore, be admitted that the practical precepts of Scripture have never admitted of various interpretations; or that the questions of doctrine on which Chi'istians have been opposed are of a purely speculative character. The difference, again, between the Christians and the unbe- lieving Jews, which is, emphatically, on a practical point, turns on the interpretations of the Scripture-prophecies ; which the Jews of old (as at this day also) interpreted as relating to a Messiah who should be a great temporal prince and deliverer. And it was on that ground that they put to death the Lord Jesus as a blasphemous impostor. Indeed, a modern writer (speaking, we may presume, in better irony, and meaning a scoff at Cliristians) represents that murder as ' no criine^ because by the sacrifice of Christ mankind were redeemed. However clear to us may be the prophecies of a suffering Messiah, it cannot be said, looking to the fact^ that ' they admit of no differences of interpretation.' And it is conceivable that they might have been so expressed as to force all men into the reception of Jesus ; if, at least, there had been also such ' signs from Heaven' as they looked for ; — if, that is. He had been seen descending from the clouds, accompanied by Moses and Elias, in the splendour which He displayed to three Apostles at the Transfiguration ; and if He had always appeared surround- ed by a supernatural light (called a GLOKY)as painters are accustom- ed to represent Him, and as He appeared to John the Baptist. But as it is, ' because they knew Him not, nor yet the voices of the prophets, which are read every Sabbath day, they fulfilled them in condemning Him.' ' * Ads xiii. 27. Essay iii.] Annotations. 37 (II.) I most fully admit that, in things confessedly beyond human reason, we ought to acquiesce in the scanty and obscure intimations given us in Revelation ; not presuming to frame, on such points, explanations of what Scripture has left unexplained ; nor (much less) to condemn, as unhappily has so often been done, our fellow-Christians who may reject those explanations ; and. on such grounds to create hostile separatiou. But it is surely rash to pronounce that such separations were, properly speaking, designed ^ or, on any point, to draw infer- ences as to the Divine Will from conjectures of our own, based on the events that naturally take place. For, in a certain sense, it may be said that whatever happens must be according to the Will of the Most High, since He does not interpose to prevent it. But ' in our doings' (as is expressed in the 17th Article) ' that W^ill of God is to be followed which is expressly declared in Scripture.' ' It must needs be,' says our Lord. ' that offences come ; but woe unto that man by whom the offence cometli.' And Paul, who tells his converts, that ' there must be heresies, that they who are approved nuiy be made manifest,' bids them, neverthe- less, 'reject a man that is an heretic' As for the analogy of a prince or master who, the reviewer says, always endeavours to give unmistakable directions, Bishop Butler has touched it very well when he says,' 'The reason why a prince would give his directions in this plain manner is, that he absolutely desires such an external action should be dune^ without concerning himself with the motive or principle on which it is done : i. e.^ he regards only the external event, or the thing's being done^ and not at all the doing it, or the action. Whereas, the whole of morality and religion consisting merely in action itself, there is no sort of parallel between the cases. But if the prince be supposed to regard only the action, — i. ^., only to desire to exercise, or in any way prove, the understanding or loyalty of a servant, he would not always give his orders in such a plain manner.' But as for the question why a state of trial does exist — why earth is not heaven — why any evil is permitted in the universe, — Bi!>hop Butler had too much sense and modesty to attempt any solution. * Analorjij, part ii. chap. vi. p. 24'7, Fitzgerald's edition. SS Of Unity in Iteligion. [Essay iii, (III.) I fully concur with the reviewer in disapproving of the union of vast masses of mankind under one government, eccle- siastical or civil. And in some instances, where men were so wedded to the erroneous view above alluded to, of the character of Christian ' unity,' as to think that the combining of all Christians in a single community on earth is a thing to be aimed at, their doctrinal disagreements, which prevented this, may have incidentally proved a benefit. But it is a mistake to suppose that there is no alternative but such a comljlnation^ or else, hostile separation and opposition. Considering, indeed, how many religious Bodies of Dissenters there are among us, and that all Protestants are dissenters from the Church of Rome — revolted subjects who have renounced their subjection, — it is not, perhaps, to be wondered that the two ideas, of independent distinctness., and of disagreement, which have no necessary connexion, should have become associated in men's minds.' But the Apostles, who certainly did not encourage diversities of doctrine, founded numerous distinct Churches, several even in the same province ; which, though not at all at variance, were not placed under any common authority on earth, except that of the individual Apostle who founded them. And in the earliest ages the christian Churches were reckoned by hundreds. It was in later times, and very gradually, that the claims of Rome, and of Constantinople, to universal supremacy, were admitted. And in the present day, the American Episcopalian Church is kept apart from our own, not by difference of doctrine, but simply by being American. The Churches of Sweden and of Denmark, again, and of some other Protestant States, are not, I believe, at all at variance with each other, though not subject to any common government. (IV.) I am as fully convinced as the reviewer that no unin- spired man can justly pretend to infallible certainty as to what opinions are erroneous. But (1) no argument drawn from man's fallibility can at all avail to repress persecution, except \vith those who achioiuledge fallibility. And it is M^ell known that Churches comprising a majority of the christian world do lay claim to an unerring certainty in matters of doctrine. So ' I have treated fully of tins point iu the Lessons on Religiow Worship. lessou X. Essay iii.] Annotations. 39 that, with them, the argument which it is alleged all must admit, would have no force at all. To tell a Roman Catholic to admit tliat his Church can liave no certainty as to what is or is not an error, would be simply telling him to cease to he a Roman Catholic. It', however, all that is meant is that, however certain we may be, ourselves, we cannot always demonstrate to others — to the very persons in error — that their opinions ai'e wrong, the persecutor would answer that since he cannot convince them, he must be content to make sure, in some Avay, whether by their death, banishment, incarceration, or otherwise, that they shall be efiectnally prevented irowi jjrojxigatlng their errors. But (2) even if a ruler admits himself to be not completely infallible, still the above argument will not preclude persecu- tion. As I observed in a former work,' ' In protesting against the claim of the civil magistrate to prescribe to his subjects what shall be their religious faith, I have confined myself to the consideration that such a decision is heyond the jpromnce of a secular ruler ; instead of dilating, as some writers have done, on the impossibility of having any ruler whose judgment shall be infalliUe. That infallibility cannot be justly claimed by uninspired Man, is indeed very true, but nothing to the present purpose. A man may claim — as the Apostles did — infallibility in matters of faith, without thinking it allowable to enforce conformity by secular coercion ; and, again, on the other hand, he may think it right to employ that coercion, without thinking himself infallible. In fact, all legislators do this in respect of temporal concerns ; such as confessedly come within the pro- vince of human legislation. Much as we have heard of religious infallibility, no one, I conceive, ever pretended to universal legislative infallibility. And yet every legislature enforces obedience, under penalties, to the laws it enacts in civil and criminal transactions ; not on the ground of their supposing themselves exempt iVom error of judgment ; but because they are bound to legislate — though conscious of being fallible — • according to the best of their judgment; and to enforce obe- dience to each law till they shall see cause to repeal it. What should hinder them, if relio^ion be one of the things coming ' Essays on the Banrjers to Christian Faith, essay v. g 11. Third edition. 40 Of Unity in Religion. [Essay iii. within their province, from enforcing (on the same principle) conformity to their enactments respecting that? A hiwgiver sees the expediency of a uniform rule, with regard, suppose, to weights and measures, or to the descent of property ; he frames, witliout any pretensions to infallibility, the hest rule he can think of; or, perhaps, merely a rule which he thinks as good as any other ; and enforces unif(»rm compliance with it : this being a matter confessedly within his province. Now if reli- gion be so too, he may feel himself called on to enforce uni- formity in that also ; not believing himself infallible either in nuitters of faith or in matters of expediency ; but holding himself bound, in each case alike, to frame such enactments as are in his judgment advisable, and to enforce compliance with them ; as King James in his prefatory proclamation respecting the Thirty-nine Articles, announces his determination to allow of ' no departure from them whatever.' I do not conceive that he thought himself gifted with infallibility ; but that he saw an advantage in religious uniformity, and therefore held himself authorized and bound to enforce it by the power of the secular magistrate. The whole question therefore turns, not on any claim to infallibility, but on the extent of the province of the civil magistrate, and of the applicability of legal coercion, or of exclusion from civil rights.' — [pp. 157, 8.] And it may be added that (as I have elsewhere remarked) ' a ruler who believed in no religion, as probably was the case with many of the ancient heathen lawgivers, might yet, like them, think the established religion a useful thing to keep the vulgar in awe, and might, on grounds of expediency, enforce conformity. ' It is certain, that heresies and schisms are, of all others, the greatest scandals.'' ' Nothing doth so much keep men ont of the Church, and drive 711671 out of the Church, as Jji'each of unity.'' If proof of the truth of Bacon's remark were needed, it might be found in the fact, that ainong the more immediate causes of the stationary, or even receding, condition of the Reformation, for nearly three centuries, — a condition so strangely ' See Essay i. On the Kingdom of Christ. Essay iii.] Annotations. 41 at variance with the anticipations excited in both friends and toes by its iirst rapid advance, — the one which has been most freqnently remarked upon is the contentions among Protestants, who, soon after tlie first outbreak of the revoU from Rome, began to expend the chief part of their eiiergies in contests with each other J and often sliowed more zeal, and even fiercer hostility, against rival-Protestants, than against the systems and the principles which they agreed in condemning. The adherents of the Church of Rome, on the contrary, are ready to waive all internal dift'erences, and unite actively, as against a common enemy, in opposing the Greek Church, and all denominations of Protestants. They are like a disciplined army under a single supreme leader; in which, whatever jealousies and dissensions may exist among the individual oflicers and soldiers, eveiy one is at his post whenever the trumpet gives the call to arms, and the whole act as one man against the hostile army. Pro- testants, on the contrary, labour under the disadvantages which are well known in military history, of an allied army — a lu)st of confederates, — who are often found to forget the common cause, and desert, or even oppose one another. Hence, it is continually urged against the Reformed Churches, 'See what comes of allowing private judgment in religion. Protestants, who profess to sacrifice everything to truth, do not, after all, attain it, for if they did, they would all (as has been just observed) be agreed. Tlie exercise of their private judg- ment does but expose them to the disadvantages of divisions, without, after all, securing to them an infallible certainty of attaining truth ; while those who submit to the decisions of one supreme central authority, have at least the advantage of being united against every common adversary.' And this advantage certainly does exist, and ought not to be denied, or kept out of sight. The principle is indeed sound, of making truth, as embraced on sincere conviction, the first object, and unity a secondary one ; and if Man were a less im- perfect Being than he is, all who adhered to that principle would, as has been said, be agreed and united ; and truth and rectitude would have their natural advantages over their op})0- sites. But as it is, what we generally find, is truth mixed with human error, and genuine religion tainted with an alloy of human weaknesses and prejudices. And this it is that gives a certain degree of advantage to any system — whether in itself 42 Of Unity in Religion. [Essaj iii. ti'iie or false — ^wliicli makes union, and submission to a supreme authority on earth, the first point. If you exhort men to seek truth., and to embrace what, on deliberate examination, they are convinced is truth, they may follow this advice, and yet— rconsidering what Man is — may be expected to arrive at diiferent conclusions. But if you exhort them to agree, and with that view, to make a compromise, — each consenting (like the Roman Triumvirs of old, who sacrificed to each otlier's enmity their respective friends) to proscribe some of their own convictions, — then, if they follow this advice, the end sought will be accomplished. But surely the advantages, great as they are, of union, are too dearly purchased at such a price ; since, besides the possi- bility that men may be united in what is erroneous and wrong in itself, there is this additional evil — and this should be re- membered above all, — that whatever absolute truth there may be in what is assented to on such a principle, it is not truth to those who assent to it not on conviction, but for union's sake. And what is in itself right to be done, is wrong to him who does it without the approbation of his own judgment, at the bidding of others, and with a view to their co-operation. On the other hand, the unity — whether among all Christians, or any portion of them — which is the result of their all holding the same truth, — this unity is not the less jJerfect from its being incidental, and not the primary object aimed at, and to which all else was to be sacrificed. But those who have only inci- dentally adhered to what is in itself perfectly right, may be themselves wrong ; even to a greater degree than those who may have fallen into error on some points, but who are on the whole sincere votaries of truth. Another disadvantage that is to be weighed against the ad- vantages of an unity based on implicit submission to a certain supreme authority, is that the adlierents of such a system are deprived of the character of witnesses. When a man professes, and we are unable to disprove the sincerity of the profession, that he has been, on examination, convinced of the truth of a certain doctrine, he is a witness to the force of the reasons wdiich have convinced him. But those who take the contrary course give, in reality, no testimony at all, except to the fact that they have received so and so fi'om Essay iii.] Annotations. 48 their guide. They are like copies of some printed document (whether many or few, makes no dilference), struck off from the same types, and which consequently can have no more weight as evidence, than one. So also, the shops supply us with a])und- ance of busts and prints of some eminent man, ' all striking likenesses of each other.' If there were but a hundred persons in all the world who professed to have fully convinced themselves, independently of each other's authority, of the truth of a certain conclusion, and these were men of no more than ordinary ability, their declara- tion would have incalculably more weight than that of a liun- di*ed millions, even though they were the most sagacious and learned men that ever existed, maintaining the opposite con- clusion, but having previously resolved to forego all exercise of their own judgment, and to receive implicitly what is dictated to them. For, the testimony (to use a simple and obvious illustration) of even a small number of eye-witnesses of any transaction, even though possessing no extraordinary powers of vision, would outweigh that of countless millions who should have resolved to close their eyes, and to receive and retail the report they heard from a single individual. So important in giving weight to testimony, is the absence of ' all concert, or suspicion of concert, that probably one of the causes which induced the Apostles, under the guidance of the Holy Spirit, to found several distinct and independent Churches, instead of a single community under one government on earth, was, the increased assurance thus afforded of the doctrines and of the Canon of Scripture received by all. For, it was not — as Bome have imagined — any General Council or Synod of the Universal Church, that determined what books and Avhat doc- trines should be received. No one of the early General Coun- cils did more than declare what had been already received by the spontaneous decision of each of many distinct Churches, — which had thus borne, long before, their independent testimony to the books and the doctrines of Christ's inspired servants. So well is all this understood by crafty controversialists, that ihey usually endeavour to represent all who chance to agree in maintaining what they would oppose, as belonging to some School, Party, or Association of some kind, and in some way eorahined, and acting in concert ; and this when there is no proof, or shadow of proof, of any such combination, except co- 44: Of Unity in Religion, [Essay iii. incidence of opinion. They are represented (to serve a purpose) as discijples of sucli and such a 1 eader. But ' there are three senses in which men are sometimes called ' disciples' of any other person: (1.) incorrectly, from their simply maintaining something that he maintains, without any profession or proof of its being derived from him. Thus, Augustine was a predesti- narian, and so was Mahomet ; yet no one supposes that the one derived his belief from the other. It is very common, however, to say of anotlier, that he is an Arian, Athanasian, Socinian, &c., which tends to mislead, unless it is admitted, or can be proved, that he learnt his opinions from this or that master. (2.) When certain persons avow that they have adopted the views of another, not however on his authority, but from holding them to be agreeable to reason or to Scripture ; as the Platonic, and most other philosophical sects ; the Lutherans, Zuinglians, &c. (3.) When, like the disciples of Jesus, and, as it is said, of the Pythagoreans, and the adlierents of certain Churches, they profess to receive their system, on tJie authority of their master or Church; to acquiesce in. an ' ipse-dixit ;' or, to receive all that the Church receives. These three senses should be carefully kept distinct." One of the earliest of the assailants of Bishop Hampden's Banvpton Lectures (a writer who afterwards seceded openly to Rome) distinctly asserted that Dr. II., Dr. Arnold, Dr. Hinds, Mr. Blanco White, and Archbishop Whately were ' united in the closest bonds of private friendship, as well as of agreement in doc- trine.' Whether this was a J^noivn falsehood, or a mere random as- sertion, thrown out without any knowledge at all about the matter, one cannot decide. But the fact is, that Dr. Arnold never luxd any close intinuxcy with Dr. Hampden ; and with Dr. Hinds, and Mr. B. AVhite, — he had not so much as a visiting acquaintance! ]^ow though the alleged 'private friendship'— had it existed — would have been nothing in itself blameable, one may easily see the purpose of the fabrication. That purpose evidently was, to impair in some degree the independent testimony of the persons mentioned, as to the points wherein they coincided, by insinuating that they had conspired together to found some kind of school or party ; and that, in furtherance of such a ' Eden's Thcol. Diet., Art. ' Disciples.' Essay iii.] Annotations. 45 plan, they might possibly have been biassed in their several judgments, or have made something of a compromise. How very probable such a result is, was strikingly shown, shortly after, by the formation of the 'Tract-party.' Of the persons who (deliberately and avowedly) combined for the pur- pose of advocating certain principles, some — as they themselves subsequently declared — disapproved of much that was put forth in several of the Tracts for the Times, yet thought it best to suppress their disapprobation, and to continue to favour the publication, till the advocacy of unsound views had reached an alarming height. The ingenuity displayed in many of those Tracts has given currency to doctrines in themselves open to easy refutation ; and the high character for learning of some of the writers, doubtless contributed to their success ; but their being known to have combined together (' conspired^ is the term used by one of themselves) for the propagation of certain doctrines agreed upon, took off just so much of the weight of their authority. And when ministers of the Church of England, and Mora- vians, and Lutherans, Presbyterians, Methodists, and Con- gregationalists, &c., are, all and each, without any concert, teach- ing to their respective congregations certain fundamental Chris- tian doctrines, this their concurrence furnishes a strong presumption in favour of those doctrines. Of these religious communities, some coincide on all fundamental points, while others, unhappily, are, on many important points, opposed to each other : but as long as they are independent of each other, their spontaneous coincidence, where they do coincide, gives great weight to their testimony. But if they formally combine together (in an Association, Alliance, Party, or whatever else it may be called), and pledge themselves to each other to pro- pagate these doctrines, the presumption is proportionably weakened. It is very strange, that some persons not deficient, generally, in good sense, should fail to perceive the consequences of thus setting up what is in reality, thongh not in name, a new Church. Besides that, under a specious appearance of promoting union among Christians, it tends to foster ^«Vunion and dissension in each Church, between those who do, and who do not, enrol thempelves as members — ^besides this, the force of the spon- taneous and independent testimony of members of distinct 46 Of Unity in Itellgion. [Essay iii. Clnirclies, is, in great measure, destroyed, by the unwise means used for strengthening it. It is important tliat we should be fully aware, not only of the advantages which undoubtedly are obtained by this kind of union, but also of its disadv^antages ; for neither belong exclu- sively to any particular Church, or other community, but to every kind of party, association, alliance, or by whatever other name it may be called, in which there is an express or under- stood obligation on the members to give up, or to suppress, their own convictions, and submit to the decisions of the leader or leaders under wdiom they are to act. This principle of sacrificing truth to unity, creeps in gradually. The sacrifice ^r«^ demanded, in such cases, is, in general, not a great one. Men are led on, step by step, from silence as to some mistake, to connivance at fallacies, and thence to suppres- sion, and then to misrepresentation, of truth ; and ultimately to the support of known falsehood. It is scarcely necessary to say that I do not advocate the opposite extreme, — the too common practice of exaggerating differences, or setting down all who do not comj^letely concur in all our views as 'infidels,' as ' altogether heterodox,' &c. The right maxim is one that w^e may borrow from Shakespere : 'Nothing extenuate, nor set down aught in malice.' But it is worth remarking, that what niay be called the two opposite extremes, in this matter, are generally found together. For it is the tendency of party-spirit to pardon anything in those wdio heartily support the party, and nothing in those who do not. ' Men ought to take heed of rending God''s Church hy two hinds of controversies.'' Controversy, though always an evil in itself, is sometimes a ne- cessary evil. To give up any thing worth contending about, in order to jDrevent hurtful contentions, is, for the sake of extirpating noxious weeds, to condemn the field to perpetual sterility. Yet, if the principle that it is an evil only to be incurred when necessary for the sake of some important good, were acted upon, the two classes of controversies mentioned by Bacon would certainly be excluded. Tlie first, controversy on subjects too deep and mysterious, is indeed calculated to gender strife. For, in a case where correct knowledge is impossible to any V . Essay iii.] Annotations. 4^ and where all are, in fact, in the wrong, there is but little likelihood of agreement ; like men who should rashly venture to explore a strange land in utter darkness, they will be scattered into a thousand devious paths. The second class of subjects that would be excluded by this principle, are those which relate to matters too minute and trifling. For it should be remembered that not only does every question that can be raised lead to ditferences of opinion, disputes, and parties, but also that the violence of the dispute, and the zeal and bigoted spirit of the party, are not at all proportioned to the im- portance of the matter at issue. The smallest spark, if thrown among very combustible substances, may raise a formidable conflagration. Witness the long and acrimonious disputes which distracted the Church concerning the proper time for the observance of Easter, and concerning the use of leavened or unleavened bread at the Lord's Supper. "VVe of the present day, viewing these controversies from a distance, with the eye of sober reason, and perceiving of how little consequence the points of dispute are in themselves, provided they be so fixed as to produce a decent uniformity, at least among the members of each Church, can hardly bring ourselves to believe that the most important doctrines of the Gospel were never made the subject of more eager contentions than such trifles as these : and that for these the peace and unity of the Churcli were violated, and Christian charity too often utterly destroyed. But we should not forget that human nature is still the same as it ever was ; and that though the controversies of one age may often ap23ear ridiculous in another, the disposition to contend about trifles may remain unchanged. Not only, however, should we avoid the risk of causing needless strife by the discussion of such questions as are in tJismselves trifling, but those also are to be regarded as to us insignificant, which, however curious, sublime, and interesting, can lead to no practical result, and have no tendency to make us better Christians, but are merely matters of sjjeculative curiosity. Paul is frequent and earnest in his exhortations to his converts to confine themselves to such studies as tend to the edification of the Church, — the increase of the fruits of the Spirit, — the conversion of infldels, — and the propagation of the essential doctrines of the Gospel. And these doctrines are all of a practical tendency. While all the systems framed by 48 Of Unity in Religion. [Essay iii. human superstition, entliusiasm, and imposture, whether Pagan, Eomish, or Mahometan, abound, as miglit be expected, in mytho- logical fables and marvellous legends, it is one of the most remarkable characteristics of the true religion, that it reveals nothing that is not practically important for us to know with a view to our salvation. Our religion, as might no less be expected of one which comes not from Man, but from God, reveals to us, not the philosophy of the human mind in itself, nor yet the philosophy of the divine Nature in itself, but (that which is properly religion) the relation and connection of the two Beings ; — what God is to us, — what He has done, and will do for us, — and what we are to be and to do, in regard to Him. Bacon, doubtless, does not mean to preclude all thought or mention of any subject connected with religion, whose practical utility we are unable to point out. On the contrary, he else- where urges us to pursue truth, without always requiring to perceive its practical application. But all controversy, and everything that is likely, under existing circumstances, to lead to controversy, on such points, must be carefully avoided. When once a flame is kindled, we cannot tell how far it may extend. And since, though we may be alloived, we cannot be hound in duty to discuss speculative points of theology, the blame of occasioning needless dissension must lie with those who so discuss them as to incur a risk that hostile parties may arise out of their speculations. ' Men create oppositions which are not, and jput tJiem into new terms so fixed, as whereas the meaning ought to govern the term, the term in effect governeth the meaning.'' So important are words in influencing our thoughts, and so common is the error of overlooking their importance, that we cannot give too much heed to this caution of Bacon as to our use of language in religious discussion. The rules most im- portant to be observed are, first, to be aware of the amhiguity of words, and watchful against being misled by it ; since the same word not only may, but often must, be used to express different meanings ; and so common a source of dissension is the mistake hence arising of the meaning of others, that the word misunderstanding h applied to disagreements in general; secondly (since, on the other hand, the sam^e meaning may be Essay iii.] Annotations. 49 expressed bj different words), to guard against attacliing too great importance to the nse of any particular term : and lastly, to avoid, as much as possible, introducing or keeping up the use of any peculiar set of words and phrases, any ' fixed terms,' as Bacon calls them, as the badge of a party. A neglect of this last rule, it is obvious, must greatly pro- mote causeless divisions and all the evils of party-spirit. Any system appears the more distinct from all others, when provided with a distinct, regular, technical phraseology, like a corporate body, Avith its coat of arms and motto. By this means, over and above all the real differences of opinion which exist, a fresh cause of opposition and separation is introduced among those who would perhaps be found, if their respective statements were candidly explained, to have in their tenets no real ground of disunion. Nor will the consequences of such divisions be as trifling as their causes ; for when parties are once firmly estab- lished and arrayed against each other, their opposition will usually increase ; and the difiJ'erences between them, which were originally little more than imaginary, may in time become serious and important. Experience would seem to teach us that the technical terms which were introduced professedly for the purpose of putting down heresies as they arose, did but serve rather to multiply heresies. This, at least, is certain, that as scientific theories and technical phraseology gained currency, party animosity raged the more violently. Those who, having magnified into serious evils by injudicious opposi- tion, heresies in themselves insignificant, appealed to the nuig- nitude of those evils to prove that their opposition was called for : like unskilful physicians, who, when by violent remedies they have aggravated a trifling disease into a dangerous one, urge the vif)lence of the symptoms which they themselves have produced, in justification of their practice. They employed that violence in the cause of what they hcUeved to be divine truth, which Jesus Himself and hi^ Apostles expressly forbade in the cause of what they knew to be divine truth. ' The servant of the Lord,' says Paul, ' must not strive, but be gentle unto all m.en, in meekness instructing them that oppose themselves, if God, perad venture, will give them repentance to the acknowl- edging of the truth." 4 • 2 Tim. xi. 25. 50 Of Unity in Religion. . [Essay iii. On tlie wliole, there is nothing that more tends to deprave the moral sense than Party, because it supphes that symjKithy for which Man has a natural craving. To any one unconnected with Party, the temptations of personal interest or gratification are in some degree checked by the disapprobation of those around him. But a partizan finds himself surrounded by persons most of whom, though perhaps not unscrupulous in their private caj^acity, are prepared to keej) him in countenance in much that is unjustifiable, — to overlook or excuse almost anything in a zealous and efficient partizan, — and even to ap- plaud what in another they would condemn, so it does but pro- mote some party-object. For, Party corrupts the conscience, by making almost all virtues flow, as it were, in its own channel. Zeal for truth becomes, gradually, zeal for the watchword — the shibboleth — of the party ; justice, mercy, benevolence, are all limited to the members of that party, and are censured if ex- tended to those of the opposite party, or (which is usually even more detested) those of no party. Candour is made to consist in putting the best construction on all that comes from one side, and the worst on all that does not. Whatever is wrong, in any member of the party, is either boldly denied, in the face of all evidence, or vindicated, or passed over in silence ; and whatever is, or can be brought to appear, wrong on the opposite side, is readily credited, and brought forward, and exaggerated. The principles of conduct originally the noblest, disinterested self-devotion, courage, and active zeal. Party perverts to its own purposes ; veracity, submissive humility, charity — in short, every christian virtue, — it enlists in its cause, and confines within its own limits ; and the conscience becomes gradually so corrupted that it becomes a guide to evil instead of good. The ' light that is in us becomes darkness.'^ ' We tnay not take up 3fahomet'S swoi'd, or like unto it / that is^ to lyropagate religion hy wars, or hy sanguinary persecutions to force consciences^ Although Bacon thus protests against the ' forcing of men's consciences,' yet I am not quite sure, whether he fully embraced the principle that all secular coercion, small or great, in what ' See 'Annotations' on Essay xxxix. Essay iii.] Annotations. 51 regards religions ftiitli, is contrary to the spirit of Cliristianity ; and that a man's religion, as long as he conducts himself as a peaceable and good citizen, does not fall within the province of the civil magistrate. Bacon speaks with just horror of '- saii- guinary persecutions.' IS^ow, any laws that can be properly called ' sanguinary' — any undue severity — should be deprecated in all matters whatever ; as if, for example, the penalty of death should be denounced for stealing a pin. But if religious truth does properly tall within the province of the civil magistrate, — if it be the office of government to provide for the good of the subjects, universally, including that of their souls, the rulers can have no more right to tolerate heresy, than theft or murder. They may plead that the propagation of false doctrine — that is, what is contrary to what they hold to be true, — is the worst kind of robbery, and is a murder of the soul. On that supposi- tion, therefore, the degree of severity of the penalty denounced against religious oifences, whether it shall be death, or exile, or fine, or imprisonment, or any other, becomes a mere political question, just as in the case of the penalties for other crimes.' But if, on the contrary, we are to understand and comply with, in the simple and obvious sense, our Lord's injunction to ' render to Cajsar the things that are Caesar's, and to God the things that are God's ; ' and his declaration that his ' kingdom is not of this world ; ' and if we are to believe his Apostles sincere in renouncing, on behalf of themselves and their fol- lowers, all design of propagating their faith by secular force, or of monopolizing for Christians as such, or for any particular denomination of Christians, secular power and political rights, then, all penalties and privations, great or small, inilicted on purely religious grounds, must be ecpially of the character of persecution (though all are not equally severe persecution), and all alike unchristian. Persecution, in short, is not wrong hecause it is cruel, but it is cruel because it is wrong. ' Tlie following is an extract from a Protestant book, published a few years ago: — ' The magistrate who restrains, coerces, or punishes one who is propagating a true religion, opposes himself to God, and is a persecutor ; but the magistrate who restrains, coerces, or punishes one who is propagating a false religion, obeys the command of God, and is not a persecutor.' This is a doctrine which every persecutor in the world would fully admit. ESSAY IV. OF EEVENGE. "P EYENGE is a kind of wild justice which the more Man's ■^^ nature runs to, the more ought law to weed it out : for as for the first wrong, it does but oifeiid the law ; but the revenge of that w^rong putteth the law out of office. ' I Certainly, in taking revenge a man is but even with his enemy, but in passing it over he is superior ; for it is a prince's part to pardon : and Solomon, I am sure, saith, ' It is the glory of a man to pass by an offence." That which is past is gone and irrecoverable, and wise men have enough to do with things present and to come ; therefore they do but trifle with themselves, that labour in past matters. There is no man doth a wrong for the wrong's sake, but thereby to purchase himself profit, or pleasure, or honour, or the like ; therefore why should I be angry with a man for loving himself better than me ? And if any man should do wrong, merely out of ill-nature, why, yet it is but like the thorn or brier, which prick and scratch, because they can do no other. Tlie most tolerable sort of revenge is for those wrongs which there is no law to remedy : but then, let a man take heed the revenge be such as there is no law to punish ; else a man's enemy is still beforehand, and it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge, are desij^us the party should know whence it cometh : this is the more generous ; for the delight seemeth to be not so much in doing the hurt, as in making the party repent : but bas^rand crafty cowards are like the arrow that fiieth in the dark, Cosmus, Duke of Florence, had a desperate saying against perfidious or neglecting^ friends, as if those wrongs were un- pardonable. 'You shall read,' saith he, 'that we are com- manded to forgive our enemies, but you never read that we are commanded to forgive our friends.' But yet the spirit of Job^ was in a better tune : ' Shall we,' saith he, ' take good at God's hands, and not be content to take evil also V and so of friends in a proportion. This is certain, that a man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would * P/o?;e}'Js xix. 11. ^Neglecting. Neglectful; negligent. ' JbS ii. 10. KR Essay iv.] Annotatiojis. ^^ heal and do well. Public revenges are for the most part fortu- nate ; as that for the death of Caesar ; for the death of Fertinax ; for the death of Hemy III. of France ; and many more. But in private revenges it is not so ; nay, rather vindictive persons live the life of witches, who, as they are mischievous, so end they unfortunate. ANTITHETA ON REVENGE. Peo. Contra. ' Vindicta prirata, justitia agi-estis. ' Qui iiijuriam fecit, priiicipium malo 'Private revenge is wild justice.' dedit: qui reddidit, modum abstulit. ' He who has committed an injury has ' Qui vim rependit, legem tautum 7nade a beginning of evil ; he who re- violat, non homiiiem. turns it, has takeri aioay all limit from ' He who returns violence for violence, it.' offends against the law only — not against the individual: 'Vindicta, quo magis naturalis, eo magis coercenda. 'Utilis metus ultionis privatse; nam ' The more natural revenge is toman, leges niraium s?epe dormiunt. the more it should he repressed.' ' Private vengeance inspires a salu- tary fear, as the laws too often slum- ' Qui facile iujuriam reddit, is fortasse Igyn tempore, non voluntate posterior erat. 'He u'ho is ready in returning an in- jury, has, perhaps, been anticipated by his enemy only in time.' ANNOTATIONS. ^/Sofne, when they tctke revenge., are desirous the party should hnow whence it cometh. It is certainly, as Bacon remarks, ' more generous' — or less t«?-gencrous — to desire that the party receiving the punishment should ' know whence it cometh.' Aristotle distinguishes opy?/ — ('Resentment' or 'Anger') from Utaog — 'Hatred,' (and when active, ' Malice') — by this. The one who hates, he says, wishes the object of his hatred to suffer, or to be destroyed, no matter by whom ; while resentment craves that he should know from whom, and/or what, he suffers. And he instances Ulysses in the Odyssey., who was not satisfied with the vengeance he had ' See, in Guy Mannering, Plej-dell's remark, that if you have not a regular chimney for the smoke, it will find its way through the whole house. 54- Of Revenge. [Essay iv. taken, under a feigned name, on the Cyclops, till lie had told him who he really was. So Shakespere makes Macduflf, in his eager desire of ven- geance on Macbeth, say, ' If thou be slain, and with no sivord of mine, My wife's and children's ghosts will haunt me still.' ^ Tn taking revenge, a man is hut even with his enemy '^ hut in jpassing it over, he is superior,'' c&g. Bacon, in speaking of the duty, and of the difficulty, of for- giving injuries, might have remarked that some of the things hardest to forgive are not what any one would consider injuries {i. e., wrongs) at all. Many would reprobate the use, in such a case, of the word forgive. And the word ought not to be insisted on ; though that most intelligent woman. Miss Elizabeth Smith, says (in her commonplace-book, from which posthumous extracts were pub- lished) that ' a woman has need of extraordinary gentleness and modesty to he forgiven for possessing suj^erior ability and learn- ing.' She would probably have found this true even now, to a certain degree ; though less than in her time. But not to insist on a word, say, instead of ' forgive,' that it is hard to 'judge fairly of and to 'feel kindly towards.' (1.) One who adheres to the views which were yours, and which you have changed. This was, doubtless, one of the Apostle Paul's trials. But in his case, the miracle he had ex- perienced, and the powers conferred on himself, could leave no douM on his mind. But the trial is much harder when you hear arguments used against you which you had yourself for- merly employed, and which you cannot now refute ; and when you rest on reasons which you had formerly shown to be futile, and which do not qiiite satisfy you now ; and when you know that you are suspected, and half-suspect yourself, of being in some way biassed. Then it is that you esi3ecially need some one to keep you in counteitance ; and are tempted to be angry with those who will not, however they may abstain from reproaching you with apostasy. Of course there is a trial on the opposite side also ; but it is far less severe. For, a change implies error, first or last ; and this is galling to one's self-esteem. The one who had adhered Essay iv.] Annotations. 55 to Lis system, sect, or opinion, may hug himself on his (so-called) ' consistency ;' and may congratulate himself — inwardly, if not openly, — on the thought that at least he may be quite right all through ; whereas the other must have been wrong somewhere. ' I stand,' he may say to himself, ' where he was ; I think as he thought, and do what he did ; he cannot at any rate tax me with liekleness ; nor can he blame anything in me which he M'as not himself guilty of.' All this is as soothing to the one party, as the thought of it is irritating to the other. (:i.) One who has proved right in the advice and warning he gave you, and which yon rejected. 'I bear you no ill will, Lizzy' (says Mr. Bennet, in Miss Austen's Pride and Prejudice)^ ' for being justified in the warn- ing you gave me. Considering how things have turned out, I think this shows some magnanimity.' (3.) One who has carried off some prize from you ; whether the woman you were in love with, or some honour, or situation, — especially if he has attained with little exertion what you had been striving hard for, without success. This is noticed by Aristotle {Phetoric^ Book ii.) as one great ground of envy {(pdovog). (4.) One who has succeeded in some undertaking whose failure you had predicted : such as the railroad over Chat Moss, which most of the engineers pronounced impossible : or the Duke of Bridgewater's aqueduct, which was derided as a castle in the air. Again, with some minds of a baser nature, there is a diffi- culty, proverbially, in forgiving those whom one is conscious of having injured: and, again, those (especially if equals or infe- riors) who have done very great and important services, beyond what can ever receive an adequate return. Eochefoucault even says that ' to inost men it is less dangerous to do hurt than to do them too much good.' But then it was his system to look on the dark side only of mankind. Tacitus also, who is not very unlike him in this respect, says that ' benefits are acceptable as far as it appears they may be repaid ; but that when they far exceed this, hatred takes the place of gratitude.' It is only, however, as has been said, the Ijasest natures to whom any of these last-mentioned trials can occur, as trials. 56 Of Revenge. [Essay iv. In all these and some other such eases, there is evidently no injury j and some will, as has been just said, protest against the use of the word 'forgive,' when there is no wrong to be forgiven. Then avoid the word, if you will ; only do not go on to ima- gine that you have no need to keep down, with a strong effort^ just the same kind of feelings that you would have had if there had been an injury. If you take for granted that no care is needed to repress such feelings, inasmuch as they would be so manifestly unreasonable, the probable result will be, that you will not repress but indulge them. You will not, indeed, acknowledge to yourself the real ground (as you do in the case of an actual injury) of your resentful feelings ; but you will deceive yourself by finding out some otlier ground, real or ima- ginary. ' It is not that the man adheres to his original views, but that he is an uncharitable bigot :' ' It is not that I grudge him his success, but that he is too much puffed up with it :' ' It is not that I myself was seeking the situation, but that he is unfit for it ;' &c. He who cultivates, in the right way, the habit of forgiving injuries, will acquire it. But if you content yourself with this, and do not cultivate a habit of candour in such cases as those above alluded to, you will be deficient in that ; for it does not grow wild in the soil of the human heart. And the unreasonable- ness and injustice of the feelings which will grow wild there, is a reason not why you should neglect to extirpate them, but why you should be the more ashamed of not doing so. It is worth mentioning, that your judgment of any one's character who has done anything wrong, ought to be exactly the same, whether the wrong was done to you or to any one else. Any one by whom you have yourself been robbed or assaulted, is neither more nor less a robber or a ruffian, than if he had so injured some otlier person, a stranger to you. This is evident; yet there is great need to remind people of it; for, as the very lowest minds of all regard with far the most disapprobation any wrong from which they them- selves suffer, so, those a few steps, and only a few, above them, in their dread of sucli manifest injustice, think they cannot bend the twig too far the contrary way, and are foi regarding (in theory, at least, if not in practice) wrongs to oneself as no wrongs at all. Such a person will reckon it a point of heroic generosity to let loose on society a rogue who Essay iv.] Annotations. 57 has cheated him, and to leave uncensiired and unexposed a liar by whom he has been belied ; and the like in other cases. And if you refuse favour and countenance. to those unworthy of it, whose misconduct has at all affected you, he will at once attri- bute this to personal vindictive feelings ; as if there could be no such thing as esteem and disesteem. One may even see tales, composed by persons not wanting in intelligence, and *admired by many of what are called the educated classes, in which the virtue held up for admiration and imitation consists in selecting as a bosom friend, and a guide, and a model of excellence, one who had been guilty of manifest and gross injustice ; because the party had suffered personally from that injustice. It is thus that ' fools mistake reverse of wrong for right.' The charity of some persons consists in proceeding on the sup- position that to believe in the existence of an injury is to cherish implacable resentment ; and that it is impossible to forgive, except when there is nothing to be forgiven. It is obvious that these notions render nugatory the Gospel-precepts. "Why should we be called upon to render good for evil, if we are bound always to explain away that evil, and call it good ? Where there is manifestly just ground for complaint, we should accustom ourselves to say, ' That man owes me a hundred pence !' thus at once estimating the debt at its just amount, and recalling to our mind the parable of him who rigorously enforced his own claims, when he had been forgiven ten thou- sand talents. Tliere is a whole class of what may be called secondary vul- gar errors, — errors produced by a kind of re-action from those of people who are the very lowest of all, in point of intellect, or of moral sentiment, — errors which those fall into who are a few, and but a very few, steps higher. Any one who ventures a remark on the above error, -will be not unlikely to hear as a reply, ' Oh, but most men are far Tiiiore disposed to judge too severely than too favourably of one who has injured themselves or their friends.' And this is true ; but it is nothing to the purpose, unless we lay down as a principle, tliat when one fault is more prevalent than another, the latter need not be shunned at all. ' Of two evils, chuse the less,' is a just maxim, then, and then only, when there is no other alter- 58 Of Revenge. [Essay iv. native, — when we Tnust take tlie one or the other : but it is mere folly to incur either, when it is in our power to avoid hoth. Those who speak of 'a- fault on the right side,' should be reminded that though a greater error is worse than a less, there is no right side in error. And in the present case, it is plain our aim should be to judge of each man's conduct y^i/'Zy and impartially, and on the same principles, whether we ourselves, or a stranger, be the party concerned. It may be added, that though the error of unduly glossing over misconduct when the injury has been done to oneself, is far less common than the opposite, among the mass of mankind, who have but little thought of justice and generosity, it is the error to which those are more liable who belong to a superior class, — those of a less coarse and vulgar mind ; and who, if thej need admonition less, are more likely to prolit by it, because they are striving to act on a right principle. The Patriarch Joseph, for instance, whose generous forgiveness of his brethren is justly admired, went into a faulty extreme when he told them (Gen. xlv. 5) 'not to be angry with themselves,' inasunich as God had over-ruled for good the crime they had committed. If they were thence induced to feel no sorrow and shame he had not done them any real benefit. And a person of the disposition alluded to, will be liable to analogous en-ors in other matters also. For instance, he will perhaps show too little deference,— for fear of showing too much — for the judgment of those he highly esteems; and will do injustice to a friend, in some cause he has to decide, through over-dread of partiality. And perhaps he will under-rate the evidence for a religion he wishes to believe, from dread of an undue bias in its favour.' An actual case has been known of a person most of whose relatives were accustomed to speak of him much less favour- ably than they really thought ; not from want of good-will, but from dread of being thought partial. And the impression thus produced was such as might have been expected. It was sup- posed — very naturally — that they were giving the most favour- able picture they could, when the contrary was the fact. What ought to have been taken at a premium, was taken at a See Elements of Logic, app. i., article Indifference. Essay iv.] Annotations. 59 discount, and vice versa: so that they damaged unfairly the reputation of one to whom they wished welL It may be thought superfluous to warn any one against an excess of self-distrust. But in truth, there is the more danger of this, from the very circumstance that men are not usually warned against it, and fancy themselves cpiite safe from it. We should remember, — besides all other distrust, — to distrust our own self-distrust. ESSAY V. OF ADVERSITY. "TT was a liigli speecli of Seneca (after the manner of the -*- Stoics), that the 'good things which belong to prosperity are to be wished, but the good things that belong to adversity are to be admired'^' Bona rerum secundarum optabilia, adver- sarmn niirabilia.'- -^Certainly, if miracles be the command over natm'e, they appear most in adversitv- It is yet a higher speech of his than the other (much too higli for a heathen), 'It is true greatness to have in one the frailty of a man, and the security of a God' — ' Yere magnum habere fragilitatem hominis, securitatem Dei.'^ This would have done better in poesy,^ where transcendencies^ are more allowed ; and the poets, indeed have been busy with it — for it is in eifect the thing which is figured in that strange fiction of the ancient poets, which seemeth not to be without mystery;^ nay, and to have some approach to the state of a Christian, 'that Hercules, when he went to unbind Prometheus (by whom human nature is re- presented), sailed the length of the great ocean in an earthen pot or pitcher, lively describing cliristian resolution, that saileth in the frail bark of the flesh through the waves of the world.^ But to speak in a mean," the virtue of prosperity is temper- ance, the virtue of adversity is fortitude, which in morals is the more heroical virtue. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament, adversity is the blessing of the ISTew, which carrieth the greater benediction, and the clearer revelation of God's •' Sen. Ad Lucil. 66. ^ Seu. Ad Lucil. 53. ' Poesy. Poetry — ' Musick and Poesy To quicken yon.' — Shakespere. * Transcendencies. Flir/hts; sowi7iys. ' Mystery. A secret tneaninci ; an emblem. ' Important truths still let your fables hold, And moral mysteries with art enfold. — Granville. » Apollod. Beor. Orig. 11. 7 Mean. Medium. ' Temperance, with golden square, Betwixt them both can measure out a mean.' — Shakespere. Essay v.] Annotations. 61 favour. Yet even in the Old Testament, if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as many hearse-like airs as carols ; and the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath laboured more in de- scribing^ the afflictions of Job than the felicities^ of Solomon. Prosperity is not without many fears and distastes ; and adver- sity is not without comforts and hopes. We see in needleworks and embroideries, it is more pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad- and solemn ground, than to have a dark and melancholy work upon a lightsome ground : judge, therefore, of the pleas- ure of the heart by the pleasure of the eye. Certainly virtue is like precious odours, most fragrant when they are incensed,' or crushed ; for prosperity doth best discover vice, but adver- sity doth best discover virtue. ANNOTATIONS. Some kinds of adversity are chiefly of the character of trials and others of discipline. But Bacon does not advert to this ditference, nor say anything at all about the distinction between discipline and trial ; which are quite different in themselves, but often confounded together. By ' discipline' is to be understood, anything — whether of the character of adversity or not — that has a direct tendency to produce improvement^ or to create some qualification that did not exist before ; and by trial, anything that tends to ascer- tain what improvement has been made, or what qualities exist. Both effects may be produced at once ; but what we speak of is, the proper character of trial, as such, and of discipline, as such. A college tutor, for instance, seeks to mahe his pupils good scholars ; an examiner, to ascertain how far each candidate is such. It may so happen that the tutor may be enabled to ' Felicities (rarely used in the plui-al). ' The felicities of her wonderful reigru' — Atterbury. ' Sad. Bark-coloured. ' I met him accidentally in London, in sarf-coloured clothes, far from being costly.' — Walton's Lives. ^ Incensed. Set on fire ; hirneoL (>'^ Of Adversity. [Essay v. form a judgment of the proficiency of the pnpils ; and tliat a candidate may learn something from the examiner. But what is essential in each case, is incidental in the other. For no one would say that a course of lectures was a failure, if the pupils were well instructed, though the teacher might not have ascer- tained their proficiency; or that an examination had not an- Bwered its purpose, if the qualifications of the candidates were proved, thougli they might have learnt nothing from it. A corresponding distinction holds good in a great many other things: for instai.et', what is called '^ jpmving a gun,' that is, loading it up to the muzzle and firing it — does not at all tend to increase its strength, but only proves that it is strong. Proj)er hammering and tempering of the metal, on the other hand, tends to 7nake it strong. Tliese two things are, as has just been said, very likely to be confounded together : (1) because very often they are actually combined I as e. g.^ well-conducted exercise of the body, both displays, and promotes, strength and agility. The same holds good in the case of music, and various other pursuits, and in none more than in virtuous practice. (2) Because from discipline and from trial, and anything analogous to these, we may often draw the same inference, though by different reasonings : e. g., if you know that a gun- barrel has gone through such and such processes, under a skil- ful metallurgist, you conclude a priori that it will be a strong one ; and again you draw the same inference from knowing that it has been '■proved.'' This latter is an argument from a sign, the other from cause to effect.' So also, if you know that a man has been under a good tutor, this enables you to form an « priori conjecture, that he is a scholar ; and by a different kind of argument, you infer the same from his having passed an examination. Great evils may arise from mistaking the one of these things for the other. For instance, children's lives have been sacrificed by the attempt to make them hardy by exposing them to cold, and wet, and hardship. Those that have been so exposed are (as many of them as survive) hardy ; because their having gone through \i proms that they were of a strong constitution, though ' Rhetoric, Part I. Chap. IL Essay v.] Annotations. it did not make tliem so. The ' proving' of a gun is the cause, not of its heiug strong, but of oi^r knowing it to be strong. And it is wonderful how prevalent in all subjects is the ten- dency to confound these two things together : e.g., Balak says to Balaam, ' I wot that he whom thou blessest is blessed, and he whom thou cursest is cursed.' And this must have been true, if Balaam was a true prophet ; but the mistake was, to suppose that his curse or blessing brought on these results, when, in truth, it brought only the knowledge of the divine designs and sentences. Different kinds of adversity (and also of prosperity, for both are equally trials, though it is only adversity that is usually called such) difier in this respect from each other, some being more of the character of discipline, and others of trial. Generally speaking, a small degree of persecution and oj3- pression is more of a discipline for humanity than very great and long-continued. It is everywhere observed that a liberated slave is apt to make a merciless master, and that boys who have been cruelly fagged at school are cruel faggers. Sterne introduces a tender-hearted negro girl, of whom it is remarked that ' she had suffered oppression, and had learnt mercy,' as if this was a natural consequence. It would have been more true to have said, ' Although she had suflered much oppres- sion,' &c. Most of the early Reformers were intolerant. Most bitter was the persecution, in the Low Countries, of the Arminians by the Calvinists, who had very recently been delivered from perse- cution themselves.* And a people who have been so long and so severely persecuted as the Vaudois, and yet retain, as they do, a mild and tolerant character, give strong evidence of the domination of a real christian principle. The celebrated ' Pilgrim Fathers,' who fled from the tyranny of Laud and his abettors, to America, and are described as having ' sought only freedom to worship God,'' had no notion of allowing the same freedom to others, but enacted and enforced the most severe penalties against all who differed from ' See, in Mr. Macaulay's Histor;/, a case of most atrocious cruelty perpetrated by Presbyterians who had witnessed cruel persecution of themselves or their fathers. Vol. iv. p. 781. Of Adversity. [Essay v. them, and compelled the ever-venerated Roger Williams, the y great champion of toleration, to fly from them to Rhode Island,/ where he founded a colony on his own truly Christian system. One of the principal founders of the New England colony remonstrated with these persecutors, saying (in a letter given in a late number of the Edinhuryh Reviertjof ' Reverend and dear sirs, whom I unfeignedly love and respect, it doth not a little grieve my spirit to hear what sad things are reported daily of your tyranny and persecution in New England, as that you fine, whip, and imprison men for their consciences. First, you compel such to come into your assemblies as you know will not join you in your worship ; and when they show their dislike thereof, or witness against it, then you stir up your magistrates to punish them, for such, as you conceive, their public aflronts. Truly, friends, this your practice of com23elling any, in matters of worship, to that whereof they are not fully persuaded, is to make them sin ; for so the Apostle {Romans xiv. 23) tells us ; and many are made hypocrites thereby, conforming in their outward acts for fear of punishment. We pray for you, and wish you prosperity every way ; hoping the Lord would have given you so much light and love there, that you might have been eyes to God's people here, and not to practise those courses in a wilderness which you went so far to prevent.' They replied, ' Better be hypocrites than profane persons. Hypocrites give God part of his due — the outward man ; but the j^rofane person giveth God neither outward nor inward man. You know not if you think we came into this wilderness to practise those courses which we fled from in England. We believe there is a vast difference between men's inventions and God's institu- tions : we fled from men's inventions, to which we else should have been compelled ; we compel none to men's inventions.' About the same time Williams sent a warm remonstrance to his old friend and governor, Endicott, against these violent proceedings. The Massachusetts theocracy could not complain that none showed them their error : they did not persevere in the system of persecution without having its wrongfulness fully pointed out. 'Had Bunyan,' says the Reviewer,^ 'opened his conventicle • Oct. 1855, p. 564. « Page 510. Essay v.] Annotations. 65 in Boston, he would have been banished, if not whipped ; had Lord Baltimore appeared there, he would have been liable to perpetual imprisonment. It' Penn had escaped with either of his ears, the more pertinacious Fox would, doubtless, have ended by mounting the gallows with Marmaduke Stephenson or William Leddra. Yet the authors of these extremities would have had no admissible pretext. They were not instigated by the dread of similar pei-secution, or by the impulse to retaliate. There was no hierarchy to invite them to the plains of Ar- mageddon ; there was no Agag to hew^ in pieces, or kings and nobles to bind with links of iron. They persecuted sponta- neously, deliberately, and securely. Or rather, it might be said, they were cruel under difficulties. They trod the grapes of their wine-press in a city of refuge, and converted their Zoar into a house of Egyptian bondage ; and, in this respect, we conceive they are without a parallel in history.' On the other hand, a short or occasional oppression is a good discipline for teaching any one not very ill disj)0sed to feel for others. Mr. Macaulay beautifully illustrates tliis from the tale of the Fisherman and the Genie, in the Ai'obian Nights. ' The genie had at first vowed that he would confer wonderful gifts on any one who should release him from the casket in which he Avas imprisoned ; and during a second period he had vowed a still more splendid reward. But being still disappointed, he next vowed to grant no other favour to his liberator than to chuse what death he should suffer. Even thus, a people who have been enslaved and oppressed for some years are most grateful to their liberators ; but those who are set free after very long slavery are not unlikely to tear their liberators to pieces.' Sickness is a kind of adversity which is both a trial and a discipline ; but much more of a discipline when short, and of a trial when very long. The kindness of friends during sickness is calculated, when it is newly called forth, to touch the heart, and call forth gratitude ; but the confirmed invalid is in danger of becoming absorbed in self, and of taking all kinds of care and of sacrifice as a matter of course. Banger of death is another kind of adversity which has both characters ; but it is much more of a wholesome discipline 5 66 Of Adversity. [Essay v. when the clanger is from a storm, or from any other external cause than from sickness. The well-known proverb, ' The Devil was sick, &c.,' shows how generally it has been observed that people, when they recover, forget the resolution formed during sickness. One reason of the diiference — and perhaps the chief — is, that it is so much easier to recall exactly the sensations felt when in perfect health and yet in imminent danger, and to act over agam, as it were, in imagination, the whole scene, than to recall fully, when in health, the state of mind during some sick- ness, which itself so much affects the mind along with the body. But it is quite possible either to improve, or to fail to improve, either kind of affliction. And, universally, it is to be observed that, though in other matters there may be trials which are nptliing hut trials, and have no tendency to improve the subject tried, but merely to test it (as in the case of the proving of a gun alluded to above), this can never be the case in what relates to moral conduct. Every kind of trial, if well endured, tends to fortify the good principle. There are, indeed, many things which are more likely to hurt than to improve the moral character ; and to such trials voe should he unjustifiable in exj)0si7ig ourselves or others unnecessarily. But these, if any one does go through them well, do not inerely prove the moral principle to be good, but will have had the eifect of still further fortifying it. And the converse, unhappily, holds good also. Every kind of improving process — religious study, good example, or what- ever else, — if it does not leave you the better, will leave you the worse. Let no one flatter himself that anytliing external will m/ike him wise or virtuous, without his taking pains to leai'n wisdom or virtue from it. And if any one says of any afflic- tion, 'No doubt it is all sent for my good,' he should be reminded to ask himself whether he is seeking to get any good out of it. ' Sweet,' says the poet, ' are the uses of adversity ;' but this is for those only who take care to make a good use of it. Most carefully should we avoid the error which some parents, not (otherwise) deficient in good sense, commit, of im- posing gratuitous restrictions and privations, and purposely inflicting needless disappointments, for the purpose of inuring Essay v.] Annotations. (57 children to the pains and troubles they will meet with in after- life. Yes, be assured they ivill meet with quite enough^ in every portion of life, including childhood, without your strewing their paths with thorns of your own providing. And often enough will you have to limit their amusements for the sake of needful study, to restrain their appetites for the sake of health, to chastise them for faults, and in various ways to inflict pain or privations for the sake of avoiding some greater evils. Let this always be explained to them whenever it is possible to do 60 ; and endeavour in all cases to make them look on the parent as never the voluntary giver of anything but good. To any hardships which they are convinced you inflict reluctantly, and to those which occur through the dispensations of the All-Wise, they will more easily be trained to submit with a good grace, than to any gratuitous sufferings devised for them by fallible men. To raise hopes on purpose to produce disappointment, to give provocation merely to exercise the temper, and, in short, to inflict pain of any kind merely as a training for patience and fortitude — this is a kind of discipline which Man should not presume to attempt. If such trials prove a discipline not so much of cheerful fortitude as of resentful aversion and suspicious distrust of the parent as a capricious tyrant, you will have only yourself to thank for this result. ' Since the end of suffering, as a moral discipline,' says an excellent writer in the Edhiburcjh Review (January, 1847), on the Life of Pascal, ' is only to enable us at last to bear unclouded happiness, what guarantee can we now have of its beneficial effect on us, except by partial experiments of our capacity of recollecting and practising the lessons of adversity in intervals of prosperity? It is true that there is no more perilous ordeal through which Man can pass — no greater curse which can be imposed on him, as he is at present constituted — than that of being condemned to walk his lifelong in the sunlight of unshaded prosperity. His eyes ache with that too untempered brilliance — ^lie is apt to be smitten with a moral coup de soleil. But it as little follows that no sunshine is good for us. He who made us, and who tutors us, alone knows what is the exact measure of light and shade, sun and cloud, storm and calm, frost and heat, which will best tend to mature those flowers which arc the 68 Of Adversity. [Essay v. object of this celestial husbandly; and which, when transplanted into the paradise of God, are to bloom there for ever in amaranthine loveliness. JSTor can it be without presumption that we essay to interfere with these processes ; our highest wisdom is to fall in with them. And certain it is that every man will hud by exjDerience that he has enough to do to bear with patience and fortitude the real afflictions with which God may visit him, without venturing to fill up the intervals in which He has left him ease, and even invites him to gladness, by a self-imposed and artificial sorrow. Nay, if his mind be well constituted, he will feel that the learning how to apply, in hours of happiness, the lessons which he has learned in the school of sorrow, is not one of the least difficult lessons which sorrow has to teach him ; not to mention that the grateful reception of God's gifts is as true a part of duty — and even a more neglected part of it — than a patient submission to his chastisemente. ' It is at our peril, then, that we seek to interfere with the discipline which is provided for us. He who acts as if God had mistaken the proportions in which prosperity and adversity should be allotted tons — and seeks by hair shirts, prolonged abstinence, and self-imposed penance, to render more perfect the discipline of suffering, — only enfeebles instead of invigorating his piety ; and resembles one of those hypochondriacal patients — the plague and torment of physicians — who having sought advice, and being supposed to follow it, are found not only taking their physician's well-judged prescriptions, but secretly dosing them- selves in the intervals with some quackish nostrum. Thus it was even with a Pascal — and we cannot see that the exj)eriment was attended in his case with any better efifects.' ' Prosperity is the Messing of the Old Testament / Adversity is the hlessing of the New^ The distinguishing characteristic of the Old Covenant, of the Mosaic Law, was that it was enforced by a system of temjporal rewards and judgments., administered according to an extra- ordinary [miraculous] providence. The Israelites were promised, as the reward of obedience, long life, and health, and plentiful harvests, and victory over their enemies. And the punishments Essay v.] Annotations. 69 threatened for disobedience were pestilence, famine, defeat, and all kinds of temporal calamity. These were the rewards and punishments that formed the sanction of the Mosaic Law. .But the Xew Covenant, the Gospel, held out as its sanction rewards and punishments in the next world, and those only. The former kingdom of God was a kingdom of this world. The Lord Jesus, on the contrary, declared that the new kingdom of God, llis kingdom, ' was not of this world.' And so far from promising worldly prosperity to his followers as a* reward of their obedience to Him, He prepared them for sulFering and death in his cause, even such as he endured Himself; and pro- nounced them ' blessed when men should hate and j^ersecute' them in his cause, saying, 'great is your reward in Heaven.' The disciples were indeed taught, and through them all Christians in every age are taught, that the painful trials sent to them were among the ' things that work together for good (that is, spiritual and eternal good) to them that love God;' and that they ought not to think it ' strange concerning the fiery trial which w^as to try them, as though some strange thing happened unto them,' but to look to the examjjle of the Lord Jesus, and 'rejoice in Him always.' Under the Christian dispensation, therefore, chastisement is for a very diiferent purpose from retribution ; the allotment of good and evil, according to the character of each man (which is pro|)er]y retribution), is reserved for the next world. The Apostle Paul poin<^s out as one of the cJiaracteristics of the Gospel, that in it God has ' commanded all men everywhere to repent, inas- much as He has xiPPOINTED A DAY in which he will judge the world in righteousness,' The novelty and peculiarity of this announcement consisted, not in declaring the Deity to be the judge of the world (for this the Jews knew, and most of the Pagans believed), but in declaring that He had appointed a day for that judgment, before Christ's tribunal in the n£xt world. They were thenceforth to look for a retribution, not, as before with the Jews, regular, and with other nations occasionally, but prepared for all men ac- cording to the character of each ; not, as before, immediate in the present life, but in the life to come. It is true that some men, who are nearly strangers to such a habit, may be for a time more alarmed by the denunciation 70 Of Adversity. [Essay v. of immediate temporal judgments for tlieir sins, than by any considerations relative to ' the things which are not seen and which are eternal.' And when such denunciations rest not on uncertain predictions, but on an undeniable and notorious con- nexion of cause with effect, — as, for instance, of intemperance with disease, or of prodigality witli penury — a salutary ahirm may be created in some who are unmoved by higher considera- tions. But such an alarm should be regarded merely as a first step ; — as a scaffolding which is to be succeeded by a building of better foundation. For, the effect thus pi'oduced, if we trust to that alone, is much less likely to be lasting, or while it lasts to be salutary, because temporal alarm does not tend to make men spiritually-minded, and any reformation of mannei's it may have produced, will not have been founded on christian prin- ciples. A man is not more acceptable in the sight of God than before, though more likely to attain the temporal objects he aims at, if he is acting on no higher motive than the goods and evils of the present world can supply. ' Yerily I say unto you, they have their reward.' But to look for temporal retribution, is surely inconsistent with the profession of a religion whose Founder was persecuted and crucified, and whose first preachers were exposed to ' hunger, and thirst, and cold, and nakedness,' and every kind of hardship, and were ' made the offscouring of all things ;' so that they declared that ' if in this life only they liad hope in Christ, they were of all men most miserable.' We sliould consider, too, that those very sufferings were a stumbling-block to the unbelieving Jews ; not merely from their being unwilling to expose them- selves to the like, according to the forewarnings of Jesus, such as, ' In this world ye shall have tribulation ;' but still more from their regarding these sufferings as a mark of divine displeasure^ and consequently a proof that Jesus could not have come from God. Because He was ' a man of sorrows and acquainted with grief,' they ' did esteem Him stricken, SMITTEN OF GOD, and afflicted,' and they ' hid their face from Him.' And it should be remembered, that the Jeivs, who had been 1)rought up under a dispensation sanctioned by temporal rewards and punishments, were less inexcusable in tliis their error, than those Christians who presume to measure the divine favour and disfavour by temporal events. ESSAY VI. OF SIMULATION* AND DIS- SIMULATION. "pvISSIMULATION is but a faint kind of policy, or wisdom -■-^ — for it asketli a strong wit and a strong heart to know when to tell truth, and to do it — therefore it is the weaker sort of politicians that are the greatest dissemblers. Tacitus saith, ' Li via sorted^ well with the arts of her husband, and dissimulation of her son,'^ attributing arts or policy to Augustus, and dissimulation to Tiberius ; and again, when Mucianus encourageth Yespasian to take arms against Yitellius, he saith, ' We rise not against the piercing judgment of Augustus nor the extreme caution or closeness of Tiberius.'^ These pro- perties of arts or policy, and dissimulation or closeness, are indeed habits and faculties several,^ and to be distinguished ; for if a man have that penetration of judgment as® he can discern what things are to be laid open, and what to be seci'eted, and what to be showed at half-lights, and to whom and when (which indeed are arts of state, and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them), to him a habit of dissimulation is a hindrance and a poorness. But if a man cannot obtain to' that judgment, then it is left to him generally to be close, and a dissembler; for where a man cannot choose or vary in particulars, there it is good to take the safest and wariest way in general, like the going softly by one that cannot well see. Certainly the ablest men that ever were, have had all an openness and frankness of dealing, and a name of certainty and veracity ; but then they were like horses well managed, for they could tell passing well when to stop to turn, and at such times when they thought the 'Simulation. The pretending that to he ichich is not. 'The feigning to he what one is not by gesture, action, or behaviour, is called simulation.' — South. 'Sort. To fit ; suit. ' It sorts well with you fierceness.' — Shakespere. * Tacit Annal. v. 1. * Tacit. Hist. u. 16. * Several. Different ; distinct. ' Four several armies to the field are led. Which, high in equal hopes, four princes lead.' — Dryden. ' As. That. See page 23. ^ Obtain to. Attain to. 72 Of Simulation and Dissimulation. [Essay vi. case indeed required dissimulation, if then tliey used it, it came to pass that the former opinion, spread abroad, of their good faith and clearness of dealing, made them almost invisible. There be three des-rees of this hidino' and veiling: of a man's self : the first, closeness, reservation, and secrecy, — when a man leaveth himself without observation, or without liold to be taken, what he is ; the second, dissimulation in the negative, — when a man lets fall signs and arguments that he is not that he is ; and the third, simulation in the affirmative, — when a man indus- triously and expressly feigns and pretends to be that' he is not. For the first of these, secrecy, it is indeed the virtue of a confessor ; and assuredly the secret man heareth many con- fessions, for who will open himself to a blab or a blabber? But if a man be thought secret, it inviteth discovery, as the more close air sucketh in the more open; and as in confessing, the revealing is not for worldly use, but for the ease of a man's heart ; so secret men come to the knowledge of many things in that kind, while men rather discharge their minds than impart their minds. In few words, mysteries are due to secrecy. Besides (to say truth) nakedness is uncomely, as well in mind as in body ; and it addeth no small reverence to men's manners and actions, if they be not altogether open. As for talkers, and futile^ persons they are commonly vain and credulous withal;- for he that talketh what he knoweth, will also talk what he knoweth not, therefore set it down, that a habit of secrecy is both politic and moral ; and in this part it is good that a man's face give his tongue leave to speak ; for the dis- covery of a man's self, by the tracts^ of his countenance, is a great weakness and betraying, by how much it is many times more marked and believed than a man's words. For the second, which is dissimulation, it folloAveth many times upon secrecy, by a necessity ; so that he that will be secret, must be a dissembler in some degree, — for men are too ^ Tliat. Wliat; that icJtich. 'To do always that is righteous in tliy siglit.' — English Liturcjy. '^ Futile. Talkative; loquacious. 'The parable (Prov. xxix. 2), it seems, especially corrects not the futility of vaine persons which easily utter as well what may be spoken as what should be secreted ; not garrulity whereby they fill others, even to a surfeit; but the governinent of speech.' — On Learning. By G. Watts. ^ Tracts. Traits (traicts) ; features. i Essay vi.] Of Simulation and Dissimiilation. 73 ciuining to suffer a man to keep an indilferent' carriage between both, and to be secret, withont swaying tlie balance on eitlier side. They will so beset a man with questions, and draw hiui on, and pick it out of him, that, without an absurd silence, he must show an inclination one way ; or if he do not, they will gather as much by his silence as by his speech. As for e(piivo- cations, or oraculous- speeches, they cannot hold out long ; so that no man can be secret, except he give himself a little scope of dissimulation, which is, as it were, but the skirts or train of secrecy. But for the third degree, which is simulation and false pro- fession, that I hold more culpable, and less politic, except it be in great and rare matters ; and, therefore, a general custom of simulation (which is this last degree) is a vice rising either of a natural falseness, or fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some main faults, which, because a man must needs disguise, it maketli him practise simulation in other things, lest his hand should be out of use. The advantages of simulation and dissimnlation are three— - first, to lay asleep opj^osition, and to surprise ; for where a man's intentions are published, it is an alarm to call up all that are against them ; the second is, to reserve to a man's self a fair retreat ; for if a man engage himself by a manifest declara- tion, he must go through, or take a fall : the third is, the better to discover the mind of another ; for to him that opens himself, men will hardly show themselves averse, but will (fair^) let him go on, and turn their freedom of speech to freedom of tliought ; and therefore it is a good shrewd proverb of the Spaniard, 'Tell a lie and find a troth,' as if there were no way of discovery but l)y simulation. Tliere be also three disadvantages to set it even : the first, that simulation and dissimulation commonly carry with them a show of fearfulness, wdiich, in any business, doth spoil the feathers of round^ %i"g ^^P to the mark ; the second, ' Indifferent. Impartial. ' That they may truly and indifferenthj minister justice.' — Prayer for the (jhurch Milita.nt. * Oraculous. Oracular. ' He spoke oraculoua and sly ; He'd neither grant the question nor deny.' — King. " Fair (adverb). Contplaimntly. 'Thus /air tliey parted till the morrow's dawn.' — Dryden. ^ Round. Direct. ' Let her be round with him.' — JSkakespere. 74 Of Simulation and Dissimulation. [Essay vi. that it piizzletli and perplexeth the conceits' of many, that perhaps would otherwise co-operate with him, and makes a man walk almost alone to his own ends; the third, and greatest, is, that it depriveth a man of one of the most principal instruments for action, which is trust and belief. The best composition and temperature'^ is, to have openness in fame and opinion ; secrecy in habit ; dissimulation in seasonable use ; and a power to feign, if there be no remedy. ANTITHETA ON SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION. Pro. Contra. ' Diesimnlatio^ compendiaria sapien- ' QiiiLus artes civiles supra captum tia. ingenii sunt, iis dissimulatio pro pru- ' Tlie art of concealing is a .short cut dentia erit. to the most important part of practical ' Those whose minds cannot grasp wisdotn.' political sagacity, substittite dissimula- tion for prudence.' ' Sepes consiliorum dissimulatio. ' Concealment is the hedge of our ' Qui dissiniulat, praecipuo ad agen- designs.' dum instrumento se pi-ivat — i. e., fide. 'He who practises concealment de- ' Qui indissimulanter omnia agit, jeque ^^.-^^^ /^ .,„,^;^. ^y ^ „,^,^ i,nportmd in- decipit ; nam plurimi, aut non capiunt, ,^,.„,„,„^ ^y action-namely, confidence.' aut non credunt. 'He who acts in all things openly ' Dissimulatio dissimulationeminvitat. does not deceive the less ; for most ' Dissimulation invites dissinndation.' persons either do not understand, or do not believe him.' ANNOTATIONS. ' Of Simulation^ It is a pity that our language has lost the word ' simulation ;' so that we are forced to make ' dissimulation' serve for both senses. ' Id quod abest, simulat, dissiniulat quod adest.'' ' The ablest inen have all had an openness and franhiess^^ &c. Tliere is much truth in Bacon's remark in the Antitheta, that those whose whole conduct is open and undisguised deceive * Conceits. Conceptions — as: ' You have a noble and a true conceit Of godlike amity.' — Shakespere. ' Temperature. Constit%ition. ' Memory depends upon the temperature of the brain.' — Watts. * Simulates that which is not; dissimulates that which is Essay vi.] Annotations. 75 people not the less, because the generality either do not under- stand them, or do not believe them. And this is practically the case when those you have to deal with are of a crafty cha- racter. They expend great ingenuity in guessing what it is you mean, or what you design to do, and the only thing that never occurs to them is just what you have said. It is to be observed, however, that some persons, who are not really frank and open characters, appear such from their want of delicacy and of refined moral taste. They speak openly of things pertaining to themselves (such as most people would suppress), not from incapacity for disguise, or from meaning to make a confidant of you, but from absence of shame. And such a person may be capable of much artifice when it suits his purpose. It is well, therefore, that the inexperienced should be warned against mistaking shamelessness for sincerity of character. Those who are habitually very reserved, and (as Miss Edge- worth expresses it in one of her tales), ' think that in general it is best not to mention things,' will usually meet with fewer tangible failures than the more communicative, unless these lat- ter possess an unusual share of sagacity ; but the latter will (unless excessively imprudent) have a greater amount of success, on the whole, by gaining many advantages which the others will have missed. ' They will so teset a man with questions? Tliere is, as Bacon observes, a great difficulty in dealing with such persons ; for a true answer to their impertinent questions might do great mischief; and to refuse an answer would be understood as the same thing. ' Pray, do you know the author of that article ? Is it your friend Mr. So-and-so V or, ' Is it ti-ue that your friend Such-a-one has had heavy losses, and is likely to become insolvent V or, ' Is he concealed in such-and- such a place ?' &c. If you reply, ' I do not chuse to ansAver,' this will be considered as ecpiivalent to an answer in the aflir- mative. It is told of Dean Swift, that when some one he had lampooned came and asked him whether he was the writer of those verses, he replied, that long ago he had consulted an experienced 76 Of Simulation and Dissimulation. [Essay vi. lawyer what was best to be done when some scoundrel who had been shown np in a satire asked him whether he were the au- thor ; and that the lawyer advised him always, whether he had written it or not, to deny the authorship, — and, accordingly,' said he, ' I now tell you that I am not the author.' Some similar kind of rebuhe is, perhaps, the best answer to give. A well-known author once received a letter from a peer with whom lie was slightly accpiainted, asking him whether he was the author of a certain article in the Edinburgh Review. He replied that he never made communications of that kind, except to intimate friends, selected by himself for the jjurj^ose, when he saw fit. His refusal to answer, however, pointed him out — which, as it happened, he did not care for — as the author. But a case might occur, in which the revelation of the authorship might involve a friend in some serious difficulties. In any such case, he might have answered something in this style : 'I have received a letter purporting to be from your lordship, but the matter of it induces me to suspect that it is a forgery by some mischievous trickster. The writer asks whether I am the author of a certain article. It is a sort of cpiestion which no one has a right to ask ; and I think, therefore, that every one is bomid to discourage such inquiries by answering them — whether one is or is not the author — with a rebuke for asking imj)ertinent questions about private matters. I say ' private," because, if an article be libellous or seditious, the law is open, and any one may proceed against the publisher, and compel him either to give up the author, or to bear the penalty. If, again, it contains false statements, these, coming from an anonymous pen, may be simply contradicted. And if the arguments be unsound, the obvious course is to refute them. But who wrote it, is a question of idle or of mischievous curi- osity, as it relates to the private concerns of an individual. ' If I were to ask your lordship, 'Do you spend your income? or layby? or outrun? Do you and your lady ever have an altercation ? Was she your first love ? or were you attaclied to some one else before ?' If I were to ask such questions, your lordship's answer would probably be, to desire the footman to show me out. Now, the present inquiry I regard as no less unjustifiable, and relating to private concerns: and, therefore, I Essay vi.] Annotations. 77 think every one bound, when so questioned, always, whether he is the author or not, to meet the inquiry with a rebuke. 'Hoping that my conjecture is right, of the letter's being a forgery, I remain,' &c. Li any case, however, in which a refusal to answer does not convey any information, the best way, perhaps, of meeting im- pertinent inquiries, is by saying, ' Can you keep a secret ?' and when the other answers, that he can, you may reply, ' Well, so can I.' ' Openiiess in fame and ojniiion.'^ ' Everybody (says one of Miss Edgeworth's characters) says that my mother is the most artful woman in the world : and / sliould think so, if everybody did not say it ; for if she was, you know, nobody would ever iind it out.' There is certainly no point in which the maxim is more applicable, that 'it is a matter of Art to conceal the Art,' ' The power to feign when there is no remedy.^ This power is certainly a dangerous one to possess, because one will be tempted to say, again and again, and on slighter and slighter occasions, ' Now, there is no remedy ; there is nothing for it but to feign :' that is, perhaps, thei'e is no other mode of effecting the object you have in view. Certainly it is a nobler thing to have the ijoioer and not to use it, than to abstain from feigning, through incapacity. But there are few cases, and to most people none, in which it is justifiable. It is indeed quite allowable for a general to deceive ^the enemy by stratagems (so called from that very circumstance), because where no confidence is reposed, none can be violated. And again it is a kind of war that is carried on between police- men and thieves. In dealing with madmen, again, there is no more fraud in deceiving them than in angling for trout with an artificial fly ; because you are not really dealing with fellow Tnen. For, though an insane patient considered as to his own proper self, apart from his malady, is, of course, entitled to justice and kindness, he is, in his present state, what is usually (and not incorrectly) called 'one heside himself — ^not hiinself ' — ' out of his mind ;' and is regarded as not responsible for his acts, on the very ground that they are not properly his own acts, but those of an irrational being. WA 78 Of Simulation and Disshnulation. [Essay vi. But with the exception of such cases, feigning cannot be justified. A pleader is greatly exposed to temptations to this practice. He has indeed a right to urge all that can be fairly said in his client's favour, and to expose any flaws in the opposite evidence. But it will often serve his cause, to protest solemnly his own sincere conviction, when he feels none ; to tax with falsehood the opposed witnesses, when there is no ground for it ; and to bring forward fallacious arguments, and mis-statements of facts. [See the Essay on Judicature.'] And perhaps he salves his conscience by the consideration that no one is bound to believe liira ; though it is evident he says what he does say, in the Jiope of being believed. How little there is in the world of a really scrupulous re- verence for truth, one may see but too many proofs every day. The sentiment expressed by an author of some repute (noticed in the Annotations on Essay I.), implies not only an utter dis- regard for truth, in what pertains to religion, but also a convic- tion (founded probably on some knowledge of the world) that the open avowal of this was not likely to do him any discredit. We see journalists, again, admitted — so they do but write ably — to be guides of public opinion, even when it is manifest and nolorious that they have no principle but that of writing what will sell best, and are ready to pander to any pojjular prejudice, and to contradict to-day what they said yesterday, without the least regard for truth and justice, or for the public welfare, or even for decent consistency, when gain is in prospect. And we may see men admired not only as eminently j)ious, but as sincere, who have openly professed and vindicated the system of ' reserve,' (or ' economy,') that is, the concealment of their own real sentiments, and the deliberate suppression of portions of God's revealed truth ; which are to be kept back, it seems, from the mass of mankind. But then, what these men do teach, is, we are told, the truth, though not the whole truth : as if the omission of one portion did not materially aftect, in practice, the character of the rest.^ It has been 1 The reader is referred to Archdeacon West's Discourse on Reserve ; to the Charge on Instruction in the Scriptures (1857,) sec. 7, and to that useful and important work, the Index to the Tracts for the Times. Essay vi.] Annotations. 79 remarked that in a marble statue, every particle remains in exactly the same position in which it existed in the block ; the sculptor has merely removed the other portions, and thus dis- covered the statue. Yet he is generally considered to have made a graven image. Then again, these same Divines have found a mode of inter- preting ' in a non-natural sense,' the Articles and other formu- laries of the Church to which they profess adherence ; holding it allowable to take words in any sense they can be brought to bear, in open disregard of the sense in wliich the writers de- signed and knew them to be understood.' And the same principle is sometimes acted on by persons of quite a different school. These have been known, for instance, to maintain that our Lord's declaration, ' My kingdom is not of this world,' may be interpreted as relating to the then-jyresent time only, and does not imply that his kingdom — though ' not of this world,' then, was not to become such, hereafter ! lie however must have known that his words could not have been so understood I else He would have \iQQ\\ pleading guilty to the charge brought against Him. For, the very design imputed to Him and his followers, and which they always disavowed, was that of designing hereafter to subvert existing governments, and monopolize temporal power. If therefore they had cherished such a design, while they expressed themselves ambi- guously, so as to be understood to disclaim it, then, most fairly miffht the most fraudulent of the Jesuits call themselves ' com- panions of Jesus !' It is really painful to be compelled to impute disingenuous- ness to persons who manifest much religious zeal. But when men are found using such arguments, and maintaining such principles, on some points, as, on others, they reprobate ; — setting up, for instance, to serve a purpose, a tradition more recent by several centuries^ than any of the Romish ones which they deride, — it is impossible to give them credit for sincerity in the means resorted to, however sincere may be their belief in the goodness of their end. * See Tract XC, reprinted by Messrs. Hope, London. " See Thoughts on the Sabbath. 80 Of Shnulation and Dissimulation. [Essay vi ' Dissimulation is hut a faint kind of policy.'' What Bacon says of the inexpediency of all insincere proceed- ings is very true. Nothing but the right can ever be the expe- dient, since that can never be true expediency which would sacritice a greater good to a less, — -Tor what shall it profit a man, if he shall gain the whole world, and lose his own soul?' It will be found that all frauds, like the ' wall daubed with un- tempered mortar,' with which men think to buttress up an ed- ifice, tend to the decay of that which they ar» devised to sup- port. This ti-uth, however, will never be steadily acted on by those who have no moral detestation of falsehood. It is not given to those who do not prize straightforwardness for its own sake to perceive that it is the wisest course. The maxim that 'honesty is the best policy' is one which, perhaps, no one ever is habitually guided by in practice. An honest man is always before it, and a knave is generally 'behind it. He does not find out, till too late, ' Wliat a tangled web we weave AVhen first we practise to deceive.' No one, in fact, is capable of fully appreciating the ultimate expediency of a devoted adherence to Truth, save the divine Being, who is ' the Truth ;' because He alone comprehends the whole of the vast and imperfectly-revealed scheme of Provi- dence, and alone can see the inmost recesses of the human heart, and alone can foresee and judge of the remotest conse- quences of human actions. A \ ESSAY VII. OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN. THE joys of parents are secret, and so are their griefs and fears ; tliey cannot utter the one, nor they will not* utter tlie other. Children sweeten labours, but they make misfor- tunes more bitter ; they increase the cares of life, but they mitigate the remembrance of death. The perpetuity by genera- tion is common to beasts ; but memory, merit, and noble works, are proper to men — and surely a man shall see the noblest works and foundations have proceeded from childless men, which have sought to exJ3ress the images of their minds, where those of their bodies have failed-j-so the care of posterity is most in them that have no posterity, j They that are the first raisers of their houses are most indulgent towards their chil- dren, beholding them as the continuance, not only of their kind, but of their work ; and so both children and creatures. The ditference in affection of parents towards their several children is many times unequal, and sometimes unworthy, especially in tlu3 mother; as Solomon saith, 'A wise son re- joiceth the father, but an ungracious son shames the mother.""^ A man shall see, where there is a house full of children, one or two of the eldest respected, and the youngest made wantons ; but in the midst some that are as it were forgotten, who, many times, nevertheless, prove the best. The illiberality of parents, in allowance towards their children, is a harmfuP error, and makes them base, acquaints them with shifts, makes them sort^ with mean company, and makes them surfeit more when they come to plenty ; and therefore the proof is best when men keep their autliority towards their children, but not their purse. Men have a foolish manner (both parents, and schoolmasters, and ser- vants), in creating and breeding an emulation between brothers ' Nor they -will not. Nor will they. ^ Proverh>' x J. ' Harmful. Pernicious. ' Sleepy poppies harmful harvests yield.' — Dryden. * Sort. To asuociate with; to consai't. 'Metals sm-t and herd with ofher metals in the earth.' — Woodward. 6 82 Of Parents and Children. [Essay vii. during childhood, which many times sorteth' to discord when they are men, and disturbeth families. Tlie Itahans make little difterence between children and nephews, or near kinsfolk ; but so they be of the lump they care not, though they pass not through their own body — and, to say truth, in nature it is much a like matter ; insomuch that we see a nephew some- times resembleth' an uncle, or a kinsman, more than his own parents, as the blood happens. Let parents chuse betimes the vocations and courses they mean their children should take, for then they are most flexible ; and let them not too much apply themselves to the disposition of their children, as think- ing they will take best to that which they have most mind to. It is true, that if the affection,^ or aptness, of the children be extraordinary, then it is good not to cross it ; but generally the precept is good, ' Optimum elige, suave et facile illud faciet con- suetudo." Younger brothers are commonly fortunate, but sel- dom or never where the elder are disinherited. ANNOTATIONS. ^ Let parents chuse 'betimes the vocations and courses they mean their children shoidd take. . . . And let them not too much apply themselves to the dispositions of their children.^ It is only in very rare and extreme cases, that Bacon allows the inclination of children to be followed in the choice of a profession. But he surely makes too little allowance (and, perhaps, the majority of parents do so) for the great diversity of natural faculties. It is not only such marvellous geniuses as occur but in five out of a million, that will succeed in one course far better than in any other. Numbers of men who would never attain any extraordinary eminence in anything, * Sort. To issue in (from sortir). ' All my pains is sorted to no proof.' — Shahespere. * Affection. Strong inclination to. ' All the precepts of Christianity command us to temper our affections towards all things below.' — Temple. * ' Chuse the hest, and custom will render it agreeable and easy.* Essay vii.] Annotations. 83 are yet so constituted as to make a very respectable figure in the department that is suited for them, and to fall below medio- crity in a different one. Tlie world has been compared by some to a board covered with holes of many various shapes, and pegs fitted for each, but which are scattered about at random, so that it is a mere chance whether a peg falls into the hole that fits it, A. P). was the son of a schoolmaster who had a great love of literature. The son had a perfect hatred of it, and was a mere dunce at his book. Yarious attempts were made, which proved perfe(it failures, to train him to some of what are called the learned professions ; and he was, to all ajDpearance, turning out what they call a 'ne'er-do-weel.' As a last resource he was sent out to a new colony. There he was in his element ; for, when at school, though dull at learning and soon forgetting what he had read, he never saw a horse or a carriage, once, that he did not always recognise ; and he really understood all that belonged to each. In the colony he became one of the most thriving settlers ; skilful in making roads, erecting mills, drain- ing, cattle-breeding, &c., and was advanced to a situation of trust in the colony. And it is worth remarking that he became a very steady and w^ell-conducted man, having been before the reverse. For it adds greatly to a young man's temptations to fall into habits of idleness and dissii3ation, if he is occupied in some pursuit in which he despairs of success, and for which he has a strong disinclination. C. D., again, was at a university, and was below the average in all academical pursuits ; but he was the greatest mechanical genius in the university, not excepting the professors. He never examined any machine, however complex, that he could not with his own hands construct a model of it, and sometimes with improvements. He would have made a first-rate engineer ; but family arrangements caused him to take Orders. He was a diligent and conscientious clergyman, but a dull and common- place one ; except that, in repairing, and altering, and fitting ujD his parsonage and his church, he was unrivalled. In this sense no one could be more ed'tfying. When, however, a youth is supposed to have, and believes himself to have, a great turn for such and such a profession, you should make sm*e that he understands what the profession la, 84: Of Parents and Children. [Essay vii. and has faculties for what it really does require, A youth, e. g.^ who is anxious to enter the Navy, and tliinks only of sailing about to various countries, having an occasional brush with an enemy, and leading altogether a jolly life, without any notion of the study, and toils, and privations he will have to go through, should have his views corrected. E. F. was thought by his friends to have made this mistake ; and when, at his earnest entreaty, he was sent to sea, they secretly begged the captain to make his life as unpleasant as possible, being anxious to sicken him. He was accordingly snubbed, and rated, and set to the most laborious duties, and never commended or encouraged. But he bore all, and did all, with unflinching patience and diligence. At last the captain revealed the whole to liim, saying, ' I can carry on this disguise ■ no longer ; you are the finest young man I ever had under me, and I have long admired your conduct while I pretended to scold you.' But perhaps part of his good conduct may have sprung from the cause which Bacon alludes to in the last sentence of his Essay on Marriage. G. H., who had, as a youth, a vehement longing to go to sea, was positively interdicted by his father. Hence, though possessing very good abilities, and not without aspirations after excellence, he never could be brought to settle down steadily to anything, but broke off from every j^romising pursuit that he was successively engaged in, in pursuit of some phantom. It is observable that a parent who is unselfish, and who is never thinking of personal inconvenience, but always of the children's advantage, will be likely to make them selfish ; for she will let that too plainly appear, so as to fill the child with an idea that everything is to give way to him, and that his concerns are an ultimate end. Nay, the very pains taken with him in strictly controlling him, lieightens his idea of his own vast importance : whereas a parent who is selfish will be sure to accustom the child to sacrifice his own convenience, and to understand that he is of much less imj)ortance than the parent. This, by the way, is only one of many cases in which selfishness is caught from those who have least of it. J ESSAY VIII. OF MARRIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE. TTE that liatli wife and cliildren liatli given hostages to -^-^ fortune ; for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit for the pubHc, have proceeded from the unmarried or chiklless men, which, both in aifection and means, have married and endowed the public. Yet it were great reason that those that have children should have greatest care of future times, unto which they know they must transmit their dearest pledges. Some there are, who, though they lead a single life, yet their thoughts do end with themselves, and account future times impertinencies ;' nay, there are some other that account wife and children but as bills of charges :^ nay, more, there are some foolish rich covetous men that take a pride in having no children, because they may be thought so much the richer ; for, perhaps, they have heard some talk, 'Such a one is a great rich man,' and another except to it, 'Yea, but he hath a great charge of children,' as if it were an (abatement to his riches. But the most ordinary cause of a single life is ^ liberty, especially in certain self-pleasing and humorous' minds, which are so sensible of every restraint, as* they will go near to think their girdles and garters to be bonds and shackles. Unmarried men are best friends, best masters, best servants, but not always best subjects. * Impertinencies. Thingx ivholly irrelevant ; thingn of little or no importavc.e. ' matter and impertinence mixed, Reason and madness.' — S/iakexpere. ' There are many subtle impertinences learut in schools.' — Watts. * Charges. Coat ; expense. ' I'll be at charges for a looking-glass, And entf rtain a score or two of tailors.' — Shakespere. Humorous. Governed by one'-f oivn fancy or predominant inclination. ' I am known to be a humorous patrician.' — Shakespere. ' He that would learn to pass a just sentence upon men and tilings, must beware of a fanciful temper, and a hianorous conduct in affairs.' — Watts. ' Or self-conceited, play the humorous Platonist.' — Drayton. * As. That. See page 23. 86 Of Marriage and Single Life. [Essay viiL for they are light to run away, and abnost all fugitives are of that condition. A single life doth well with churchmen, for charity will hardly water the ground where it must first fill a pool. It is indifferent for judges and magistrates ; for if they be facile and corrupt, you shall have a servant five times worse than a wife. For soldiers, I find the generals commonly, in their hortatives, put men in mind of their wives and children : and I think the despising of marriage among the Turks maketh the vulgar soldier more base. Certainly wife and children are a kind of discipline of humanity : and single men, though they be many times more charitable, because their means are less exhaust,' yet, on the other side, they are more cruel and hard- hearted (good to make severe incpiisitors), because their tender- ness is not so oft called upon. Grave natures, led by custom, and therefore constant, are commonly loving husbands, as was said of Ulysses, ' Vetulam suam praetulit immortalitati." Chaste women are often proud and froward, as presuming upon the merit of their chastity. It is one of the best bonds, both of chastity and obedience, in the wife, if she thinks her husband wise, which she will never do if she find him jealous. Wives are young men's mistresses, companions for middle age, and old men's nurses, so as a man may have a quarreP to marry when he will ; but yet he was reputed one of the wise men that made answer to the question when a man should marry — ' A young man not yet, an elder man not at all.'^ It is often seen that bad husbands have very good wives ; whether it be that it raiseth the price of their husband's kindness when it comes, or that the wives take a pride in their patience ; but this never fails, if the bad husbands were of their own chusing, against their friends' consent : for then they will be sure to make good their own folly. \ [ * Exhaust. Exhausted. ' The wealth Of the Canaries was exhaust the health Of his good Majesty to celebrate.' — Hahington. * ' He preferred his old woman to immortality.' — Plat. Gryll. 1. ^ Quarrel. A reason ; a plea. (Perhaps from Quare, wherefore, used in law in a plea in trespass.) Or perhaps this oldest use of it for reason or plea, is the original meaning of querela, retained in querulous — putting forth a pitiful plea. ' He thought he had a good quarrel to attack him.' — Holinshed, ■• Thales. Vid. Biog. Laert. i. 26. Essay vnii.] Annotations. 87 ANTITHETA ON WIFE AND CHILDREN. Pro. Contra. ' Charitas reipublicse incipit a familia. ' Qui uxorem duxit, et liberos susce- ' 11)6 love of country has its rixe in pit, obsides fortunffi dedit. family affection.^ ' He that has a wife and children has given hostages to fortune.' ' Uxor et liberi disciplina quajdam humaiiitatis ; at cfelibes tetrici et severi. ' Brutorum eternitas soboles ; virorum ' A wife and children are a sort of fama, merita, et instituta. training in courtesy and kindliness; 'The perpetuation of brutes is off- while single men, on the other hand, are spring ; but that of man is their glory, hard and severe.' their deserts, and their institutions.' ' Cselibatus et orbitas ad nil aliud ' CEconomicse rationes piibiicas ple- conferunt, quam ad fiigam. runqiie evertunt. ' Celibacy and absence of kindred are ' Family considerations often overthrow a qualification only for flight.' public ones' ANNOTATIONS. It is remarkable that Bacon does not at all advert to the notion of the superior holiness of a single life, or to the enforced celibacy of the Roman Catholic clergy. It is hardly necessary to remark — much less to prove — that, even supposing there were some spiritual advantage in celibacy, it ought to be completely voluntary from day to day, and not to be enforced by a lite-long vow or rule. For in this case, even though a person should not repent of such a vow, no one can be sure that there is not such repentance. Supposing that even a large majority of priests, and monks, and nuns, have no desire to marry, every one of them may not unreasonably be suspected of such a desire, and no one of them, consequently, can be secure against the most odious suspicions. It has been alleged, in reply to this, that the like reasoning would apply to the case of the marriage contract., since no one can be sure that a married couple may not repent of their union. To the most rightminded persons, the answer would at once occur, that thei'e is a wide difference between any merely human institution, and one that has an express divine sanction : ' what God hath joined together, let not Man put asunder.' This distinction, however, would not be recognised by those who put the decrees of a (supposed) infallible Church on a level with Scripture. But even these may perceive that the permanence of the marriage-tie 88 Of Marriage and Single Life. [Essay viii. is necessary for the due care of offspring — for the comfort of married life itself — and for the morality and welfare of society. And that there is no such necessity for the enforced celibacy of the clergy, is proved, not only by the experience of all Churches except that of Rome, but by the admission of tliat very Cliurch itself; since it .dispenses with the rule in favour of the clergy of the Eastern Churches. No doubt there are many Roman-Catholic clergymen (as there are Protestant) who sincerely prefer celibacy. But, in the one case we have a ground of assurance of this, which is wanting in the other. No one can be sure, because no proof can be given, that a vow of perpetual celibacy may not, some time or other, be a matter of regret. But he who continues to live single while continuing to have a free choice, gives a fair evidence of a continued preference for that life.' Accordingly, many of the most intelligent of the Roman- Catholic laity are very desirous of having the law of celibacy removed. It is not reckoned an article of the fViith, but merely a matter of discipline. And accordingly," those of the Greek and Armenian Churches who have consented to acknowledge Rom- ish supremacy, have been allowed to retain their own practice as to this matter ; the Armenian Church allowing the marriage of their priests, and the Greek Church req^mring the parish priests to be married. When this was urged by an intelligent Roman-Catholic * It is worth observing, by the way, that if any one slioiild maintain tliat en- forced celibacy of the clergy is essential to such an unrestricted intercourse as is, on religious grounds, desirable between the pastor and the females of his fiock, and should allege that a clergyman to whom marriage is permitted could not have any confidential communication with tliem, for fear of exciting rumours of some matrimonial designs — if any one should maintain this, he would hardly be thought serious. He would be answered — if, indeed, he were considered worth an answer — that the reasonable inference is the very opposite. Any groundless rumours of a tender attachment between parties who were free to marry, would be put an end to by their not marrying. But if their marriage were prohibited by law, it would be necessary to avoid any such intimacy as might possibly lead to the existence, or to the suspicion, of that sort of attachment which would naturally lead to matrimony. But it is remarkable that many persons to whom all this is quite clear, yet use, in a precisely parallel case, the very same kind of reasoning which, in this case, they would deride. — See Remains of Bishop Copies- ton, p. 42. Essay viii.] Annotations. 89 layman, to the late Arclibisliop Murray, he replied that but few Armenian priests do avail themselves of tlieir privilege. This, answered the other, is a strong reason on my side; for the advantage which you think thei'e is in an unniai'i'ied priesthood, is secured in a great majority of instances, with the veiy great additional advantage that their celibacy is there undei'stood to be conipletely voluntary. But doubtless the Romish hierarchy have been much in- fluenced by the consideration which Bacon mentions, that 'single men are the best servants.' It was wished to keep the clergy, who are the employed servants of the Roman Church, as distinct as possible from the Body of the people. In the Greek Church, though every parish priest must be a married man, the bishops never are, being always taken from among the monks. The result of this is (1.) that the parish priests, since they cannot rise any higher, are regarded as an inferior order of men ; and, according to the testimony of all travellers, are a very low set. And (2.) the bishop who has to govern, through the medium of the priests, all the jDarishes of his diocese, is necessarily a person destitute of all experience. It is as if the command of a fleet were given (as is sometimes done by the Russians) to a military officer. A parish priest in the Greek Church, if his Avife dies, is per- manently suspended. For none can officiate who is not married ; and he is not allowed to marry again. It is thus they interpret, as some Protestant divines also have done (besides Doctor Primrose), the rule that he is to be 'the husband of one wife.' The rule is manifestly and confessedly of doubtful inter- pretation ; some understanding it of a prohibition merely of polygamy ; and others, as relating merely to conjugal fidelity. This last has more to be said in its favour than would appear from our translation, on account of the double mcaninir in the original of Vwr], and also of Kvqp, in Greek, and Vir in Latin. It has been urged agains.t this interpretation, that such a rule would have been superfluous ; but surely the same might be said against the rule that the deacon should be ' no striker,' and ' not given to much wine.' ESSAY IX. OF ENVY. THERE be none of the affections whicli have been noted to fascinate or bewitch, bnt love and envy ; they both have vehement wishes, they frame themselves readily into imagina- tions and suggestions, and they come easily into the eye, espe- cially upon the presence of the objects, which are the points that conduce to fascination, if any such thing there be. We see, likewise, the Scripture calleth envy an evil eye, and the astrologers call the evil influences of the stars evil aspects, so that still there seemeth to be acknowledged, in the act of envy, an ejaculation' or irradiation of the eye ; nay, some have been so curious^ as to note, that the times when the stroke or per- cussion of an envious eye doth most hurt, are when the party envied is beheld in glory or triumph, for that sets an edge upon envy ; and, besides, at such times, the spirits of the person envied do come forth most into the outward parts, and so meet the blow. But, leaving these curiosities^ (though not unworthy to be thoiiglit on in tit place), we will handle'' what persons are aj)t to envy others ; what persons are most subject to be envied themselves ; and what is the difl:erence between public and private envy. A man that hath no virtue in himself ever envieth virtue in others — for men's minds will either feed u23on their own good, or upon other's evil ; and who^ wanteth the one will prey upon * Ejaculation. 77/e act of throiving or darting out. 'Wliieli brief prayers of our Saviour (Matt. xxvi. 3i)) are properly such as we call ejaculation an elegant similitude from the shooting or throwing out a dart or arrow.' — South. ' Its active rays ejaculated thence, Irradiate all the wide circumference.' — Blachnore. 'Curious. Subtle; miiintely inquiring ; accurate ; precise. ' Both these senses embrace their objects with a more curious discrimination.' — Holden. ' Having in- quired of the cnriousest and most observing makers of such tools.' — Boyle. ' For curious I caimot be with you.' — Shakespere. Ingenious. ' To devise curious works.' — Exodus xxxv. 32. * Curiosities. Niceties. ' Equalities are so weighed, that curiosity in neither can make choice of cither's moietj'.' — Shakespere. * Handle. To treat ; to discuss. ' He left nothing fitting for the purpose Untouched or slightly handled in discourse.' — Shakespere. ^ Who. He who. ' Who talks much, must talk in vain.' — Gay. i Essay ix.] Of Envy. 91 the other ; and whoso* is out of hope to attain another's virtue, will seek to come at even hand, by depressing another's fortune. A man that is busy and inquisitive is commonly envious; for to know much of other men's matters cannot be because all that ado'' may concern his own estate ; therefore it must needs be that he taketh a kind of play-pleasure in looking upon the fortunes of others; neither can he that mindeth but his own business lind much matter for envy ; for envy is a gadding patision, and walketh the streets, and doth not keep home : ' Non est curiosus, quin idem sit malevolus.'^ Men of noble birth are noted to be envious towards new '01 when they rise : for the distance is altered ; and it is like 1 1 .;ceit of the eye, that when others come on they think theni- Bt Ives go back. Boformed persons and eunuchs, and old men and bastards, are envious ; for he that cannot possibly mend his own case, will do what he can to impair another's ; except these defects ^■' jlit upon a very brave and heroical nature, which thinketh to iie his natural wants part of his honour ; in that it should be ! ' , ' That an eunuch, or a lame man, did such great matters ;' • •cting* the honour of a miracle: as it was in Karses the nich, and Agesilaus and Tamerlane, that were lame men. The same is the case of men who rise after calamities and misfortunes ; for they are as men fallen out with the times, and think other men's harms a redemption of their own sufferings. They that desire to excel in too many matters, out of levity and vain glory, are ever envious, for they cannot want w^ork — it being impossible but many, in some one of those things, should surpass them ; which was the character of Adrian the emperor,^ that mortally envied poets and painters, and artificers in works wherein he had a vein" to excel. Lastly, near kinsfolks and fellows in office, and those that Whoso. Wlioever. ' Whow ofFereth praise glorifieth me.' — Ps. 1. 23. ^ Ado. Biixtle — really the infinitive mood of a verb equivalent to the ex pression ' to do.' — Used in the plural adoes in the old Scottish Acts of Parliament — Rev. H. Cotton. ' Let's follow, to see the end of this ado.' ' Much Ado about Nothing.' — Shakexpere. * 'There is none curious that is not also malevolent.' — Cf. Plut. de Curios. 1. * AfTecling. See page 1. ^ Spartian. Vit. Adrian. 15. ® Humour ; fancy. ' Thou troublest me ; I am not in the vein' — Bhakexpere.' 92 Of Envy. [Essay ix. are bred together, are more apt to envy tlieir equals when they are raised ; for it doth upbraid unto them their own fortunes, and pointeth at them, and cometh oftener into their remem- brance, and incurreth' hkewise more into the note of others ; and envy ever redoubleth from speech and famp. Cain's envy was the more vile and malignant towards his brother Abel, because, when his sacrilice was better accepted, there was nobody to look on. Tlius muclr for those that are apt to envy. Concerning those that are more or less subject to envy. First, persons of eminent virtue, when they are advanced, are less envied, for their fortune seemeth but due unto them ; and no man envieth the payment of a debt, but rewards and liberality rather. Again, envy is ever joined with the comparing of a man's self ; and where there is no comparison, no envy — and therefore kings are not envied but by kings. Nevertlieless, it is to be noted, that unworthy persons are most envied at tlieir first coming in, and afterwards overcome it better ; whereas, contrary wise,'' persons of worth and merit are most envied when their fortune continueth long ; for by that time, though their virtue be the ' same, yet it hath not the same lustre, for fresh men grow up to darken it. Persons of noble blood are less envied in their rising, for it seemeth but right done to their birth : besides, there seemeth not much added to tlieir fortune ; and envy is as the sunbeams, that beat hotter upon a bank, or steep rising ground, than upon a flat; and, for the same reason, those that are advanced by degrees are less envied than those that are advanced suddenly, and ' per saltum." Those that have joined with their honour great travels, cares, or perils, are less subject to envy ; for men think tha^t tliey earn their honours hardly, and pity them sometimes, and pity ever healeth envy ; wherefore you shall observe, that the more deep and sober sort of politic persons, in their greatness, are ever bemoaning themselves what a life they lead, chanting a ' quanta patimur ;'* not that they feel it so, but only to abate ' Incur. To press on. ' The mind of man is helped or hindered in its opera- tions according to the different quality of external objects that incur into the senses.' — Soutli. "Contrariwise. On the contrary. *' At a bound.' * ' How much we suffer 1' Essay ix.] Of Envy. yy the edge of envy: but this is to be understood of business that' is laid upon men, and not sucli as they call unto themselves : foi' nothing increaseth envy more than an unnecessary and ambitious engrossing of business — and nothing doth extinguish envy more than for a great person to preserve all other inferior officers in their full rights and pre-eminences of their places ; for, by that means, there be so many screens between him and envy. Above all, those are most subject to envy which carry the greatness of their fortunes in an insolent and proud manner — being never well but while they are showing how great they are, either by outward pomp, or by triumphing over all opposi- tion or competition : whereas wise men will rather do sacrifice to envy, in suffering themselves, sometimes of j^urpose, to be crossed and overborne in things that do not much concern them. Notwithstanding, so much is true, that the carriage of greatness in a plain and open manner (so it be without arrogancy^ and vain-glory), doth draw less envy than if it be in a more crafty and cunning fashion ; for in that course a man doth but disavow fortune, and seemeth to be conscious of his own want in worth, and doth but teach others to envy him. Lastly, to conclude this part, as we said in the beginning that the act of envy had somewhat in it of witchcraft, so there is no other cure of envy but the cure of witchcraft ; and that is, to remove the lot (as they call it), and to lay it upon another ; for which purpose, the wiser sort of great persons bring in ever upon the stage somebody upon whom to derive^ the envy that would come upon themselves ; sometimes upon ministers and servants, sometimes upon colleagues and associates, and the like ; and, for that turn, there are never wanting some persons of violent and undertaking'' natures, who, so they may have power and business, will take it at any cost. Now, to speak of public envy. There is yet some good in * Of. Bji. Of purpose ; by design ; intentionally. ' They do of right belong to you, — Tillotson. * Arrogancy. Arrogance. ' Let not arroga7icy come out of your mouth.'— 1 Samuel xi. ^ Derive. To divert, to turn the course of. ' Company abates the torrent of a common odium by deriving it into many channels.' — South. * Undertaking. Enterprising. ' Men of renown, that is, of undertaking and adventurous natures.' — Sir Walter Raleigh. 94 Of Envy. [Essay ix. public envy, whereas in private there is none ; for public envy is as an ostracism, that eclipsetli men when they grow too great ; and therefore it is a bridle also to great ones to keep within bounds. This envy, being in the Latin word 'invidia,' goeth in the modern languages by the name of discontentment, of wliich we shall speak in handling sedition. It is a disease in a State like to infection ; for as infection spreadeth upon that which is sound, and tainteth it, so, when envy is gotten once into a State, it traduceth even the best actions thereof, and turneth them into an ill odour; and therefore there is little won by intermingling of plausible^ actions; for that doth argue but a weakness and fear of envy, which hurteth so much the more ; as It is likewise usual in infections, which, if you fear them, you call them upon you. This public envy seemeth to bear chiefly upon principal officers or ministers, rather than upon kings and States them- selves. But this is a sure rule, that if the envy upon the minister be great, when the cause of it in him is small, or if the envy be general in a manner upon all the ministers of an estate, then the envy (though hidden) is truly upon the State itself. And so much of public envy or discontentment, and the difference thereof from private envy, which was handled in the first place. We will add this in general, touching the affection of envy, that of all other affections it is the most importune'^ and con- tinual ; for of other affections there is occasion given but now and then ; and therefore it was well said, ' Invidia festos dies non agit," for it is ever working upon some or other. And it is also noted, that love and envy do make a man pine, which other affections do not, because they are not so continual. It is also the vilest affection, and the most depraved ; for which cause it is the proper attribute of the Devil, who is called ' The ' Plausible. Deserving to meet with applause. ' I hope they will plans receive our attempt.' — Brown. ' Importune. Importunate ; troublesome from frequency. ' More shall thy penitent sighs, his endless mercy please Than their importune suits which dreame that words God's wrath appease.'— Surrey * ' Envy keeps no holidays.' Essay ix.] Annotations. 9f envious man, that sowetli tares amongst tlie wheat by night ;' as it always cometh to pass, that envy worketh subtilely, and in the dark, and to the prejudice of good things, such as is the wheat. ANTITHETA ON ENYY. Pro. Contra. ' Invidia in rebuspublicis, tanquam * Nemo virtnti invidiam reconcilia- salubris ostracismus. verit prteter mortem. 'In public affairs, envy acts the part ' Notlnng can reconcile envy to virtue of a wholesome ostracism.' but death.' ' Invidia virtutes laboribus exercet. ut Juno Hereiilem. ' Envy acts totvards the virtues as Juno did towards Hercules; slie con- • demns them to toilsome labours' ^ ANNOTATIONS. ' There seeineth to he acknowledged.^ in the act of envy, an ejaculation or irradiation of the eye.'' There is a curious passage on tliis subject in a very able article in the Worth British Review (Aug. 1857), which I will take the liberty of citing. ' We once, in Cairo, conversed on this superstition with an intelligent Cairene, who described it as the great curse of his country. ' ' Does the mischievous influence of the evil eye,' we asked, ' depend on the will of the person whose glance does the miscliief?' ' ' Not altogether,' he answered. ' An intention to harm may render more virulent the poison of the glance ; but envy, or the desire to appropriate a thing, or even excessive admiration, may render it hurtful without the consciousness, or even against the will, of the offender. It injures most the thing that it first hits. Hence the bits of red cloth that are stock about the dresses of women, and about the trappings of camels and horses, and the large spots of lamp-black which you may see on the foreheads of childi-en. They are a sort of conductors. It is hoped that they will attract the glance, and exhaust its venom.' 96 Of Envy. [Essaj ix. ' ' A fine house, fine furniture, a fine camel, and a fine horse, are all enjoyed with fear and trembling, lest they sliould excite envy and bring misfortune. A butcher would be afraid to expose fine meat, lest the evil eye of passers-by, who might covet it, should taint it, and make it spoil, or become unwhole- some.' ' ' Children are supposed to be peculiarly the objects of desire and admiration. When they are suftered to go abi-oad, they are intentionally dirty and ill-dressed ; but generally they are kept at home, without air or exercise, but safe from admiration. This occasions a remarkable difference between the infant mor- tality in Europe and in Egypt. In Enrope it is the children of the rich who live ; in Egypt, it is the children of the poor. The children of the poor cannot be confined. 'They live in the fields. As soon as you quit the city, you see in every clover field a gronp, of which the centre is a tethered buffalo, and round it are the children of its owner, with their provision of bread and water, sent thither at sum-ise and to remain there till sunset, baskino- in the sun, and breathing the air from the desert. The Fellah children enter their hovels only to sleep, and that only in the winter. In summer, their days and nights are passed in the open air ; and, notwithstanding their dirt and their bad food, they grow up healthy and vigorous. The childi-en of the rich, confined by the fear of the evil eye to the ' hareem'. are puny creatures, of whom not a fourth part reaches adoles- cence. Achmed Pasha Tahir, one of the governors of Cairo nnder Mehemet Ali, had 280 children ; only six survived him. Mehemet Ali himself had 87 ; only ten were living at his death.' ' ' I believe,' he added, ' that at the bottom of this superstition is an enormous prevalence of envy among the lower Egyptians. You see it in all their fictions. Half of the stories told in the coffee-shops by the professional story-tellers, of which the Arabian Nights are a specimen, tui-n on malevolence. Malevo- lence, not atti'ibuted, as it would be in European fiction, to some insult or injury inflicted by the person who is its object, but to mere envy : envy of wealth, or of the other means of enjoyment, honourably acquired and liberally used.' ' (Pages 10-11.) In Adam Smith's Theory of 3 f oral Sentiments^ the following Essay ix.] Annotations. 97 admiraLle remarks are made on the envy that attends a sudden rise : — 'The man who, by some sudden revohition of fortune, is hfted up ail at once into a condition of life greatly above what he had formerly lived in, may be assured that the congratula- tions of his best friends are not all of them perfectly sincere. An upstart, though of the greatest merit, is generally disagree- able, and a sentiment of envy commonly prevents us from heartily sympathizing with his joy. If he has any judgment, he is sensible of this, and instead of appearing to be elated with his good fortune, he endeavours, as much as he can, to smother his joy, and keep down that elevation of mind with which his new circumstances naturally inspire him. He affects the same plainness of dress, and the same modesty of behaviour, which became him in his former station. He redoubles his attention to his old friends, and endeavours more than ever to be humble, assiduous, and complaisant. And this is the behaviour which in his situation we must approve of; because, we expect, it seems, that he should have more sympathy with our envy and aversion to his happiness, than we have with his happiness. It is seldom that with all this he succeeds. We suspect the sincerity of his humility, and he grows weary of this constraint. In a little time, therefore, he generally leaves all his old friends behind him, some of the meanest of them excepted, who may, perhaps, condescend to become his dependents : nor does he alwaj's accpiire any new ones ; the pride of his new connections is as much affronted at finding him their equal, as that of his old ones had been by his becoming their superior : and it requires the most obstinate and persevering modesty to atone for this mortitication to either. He generally grows weary too soon, and is provoked, by the sullen and suspicious pride of the one, and by the saucy contempt of the other, to treat the first with neglect, and the second with petulance, till at last he grows habitually insolent, and forfeits the esteem of all. If the chief part of human happiness arises from the consciousness of being beloved, as I believe it does, those sudden changes of fortune seldom contribute much to happiness. He is happiest who advances more gradually to greatness ; whom the Public destines to every step of liis preferment long before he arrives at it ; in whom, upon that account, when it comes, it can excite no ex- 7 98 Of Envy. [Essay ix. travagant joy, and witli regard to whom it cannot reasonably create either any jealonsy in those he overtakes, or any Q^vf^^ in those he leaves behind." ''Persons of eminent mrtue^ when they are advanced, are less envied.'' Bacon might have remarked that, in one respect a rise by merit exposes a man to more envy than that by personal favour, through family connection, private friendship, &c. For in this latter case, the system itself of preferring private considerations to public, is chiefly blamed, but the individual thus advanced is regarded much in the same way as one who is horn to an estate or a title. But when any one is advanced on the score of desert and qualifications, the system is approved, but the individual is more envied, because his advancement is felt as an affront to all who think themselves or their own friends more worthy. ' It is cpiite right to advance men of great merit ; but by this rule, it is I, or my friend So-and-so that should have been preferred.' When, on the other hand, a bishop or a minister appoints his own son or private friend to some office, every one else is left free to think ' If it had gone by merit, I should have been the man.' When an}^ person of really eminent virtue becomes the object of envy, the clamour and abuse by which he is assailed, is but the sign and accompaniment of his success in doing service to the Public. And if he is a truly wise man, he will take no more notice of it than the moon does of the howling of the dogs. Her only answer to them is ' to shine on.' ' This public envy seemeth to hear chiefly ujpon principal officers or ministers., rather than upon kings. ^ This is a very just remark, and it miglit have suggested an excellent argument (touched on in the Lessons on the British Constitution^) in favour of hereditary Royalty. It is surely a good thing that there should be some feeling of loyalty unalloyed * Adam Smith's TJieory of Moral Sentiments, chap. v. ^ See Introductory Lessov t on the British Constitution, lesson i. Essay ix.] Annotations. 99 by envy, towards something in tlie Government. And this feeling concentrates itself among ns, iijion the Sovereign. But in a pure Republic, the abstract idea of the State — the Common- wealth itself — is too vague for the vulgar mind to take hold of with any loyal affection. The President, and every one of the public officers, has been raised from the ranks ; and the very circumstance of their having been so raised on the score of supposed fitness, makes them (as was observed above) the more obnoxious to envy, because their elevation is felt as an affront to their rivals. An hereditary Sovereign, on the other hand, if believed to possess personal merit, is regarded as a Godsend ; but he does not hold his place by that tenure. In Aristotle's Rhetoric, there is a Dissertation on Envy, Emulation, and Indignation (Nemesis), well worthy of Bacon ; who certainly was carried away into an undue neglect and dis- paragement of Aristotle by the absurd idolatry of which he had been made the object. ' Conculcatur enim cupide nimis ante metutum.' ESSAY X. OF LOVE. nnilE stage is more beholding' to love than the life of Man ; -*- for as to the stage, love is even matter of comedies, and now and then of tragedies ; but in life it doth much mischief, sometimes like a syren, sometimes like a fury. You may observe, that amongst all the great and worthy persons (whereof the memory remaiueth, either ancient or recent), there is not one that hath been transported to the mad degree of love ; which shows that great spirits and great business do keep out this weak passion. You must except, nevertheless, Marcus Antonius, the half-partner of the empire of Home, and Appius Claudius, the decemvir and lawgiver ; whereof the former was indeed a voluptuous man, and inordinate, but the latter was an austere and wise man : and therefore it seems (though rarely,) that love can find entrance, not only into an open heart, but also into a heart well fortified, if watch be not well kept. It is a poor saying of Epicurus, ' Satis magnum alter alteri theatrum sumus," — as if Man, made for the contemplation of heaven, and all noble objects, should do nothing but kneel before a little idol, and make himself a subject, though not of the mouth (as beasts are), yet of the eye, which was given him for higher purposes. It is a strange thing to note the excess of this passion, and how it braves the nature and value of things by this, that the speaking in a perpetual hyperbole is comely in nothing but in love; neither is it merely in the phrase; for whereas it hath been well said, ' That the arch flatterer, with whom all the petty flatterers have intelligence, is a man's self :' certainly tlie lover is more ; for there was never a proud man thought so absurdly well of himself as the lover doth of the person loved; and therefore it was well said, ' That it is impossible to love and be wise." Neither doth this weakness appear to others only, and not to the party loved, but to the loved most of all, except the ^ Beholding. Beholden. ' Thanks, lovely Virgins, now might we but know To whom we had been beholdtcn for this love.' — Ford. * ' We are a sufficiently great spectacle to each other.' ' ' Amare et sapere vix Deo conceditur' — Pub. Syr. Setit. 15, % 2i Essay xi.] Annotatio7is. ljAV'**^^Cr^w'^y not how it is related to that wliicli tliey desire to attain : wlien tliey have ascended, their former station is at too great a distance to be surveyed accurately, and the reciprocal influences cannot be understood, because one side is removed beyond the reach of observation.' (Page 329.) ' After a time set hefore thee thine own example.^ 'Tlicre is a strong temptation to sacrifice the consciousness of individuality for the sympathy of the multitude. Tlie peril of being seduced from our proper orbit is not less great, when we seek to join, than when we try to avoid others. There are those who are willing to err w^ith Plato, and there are those who are unwilling to go right with Epicurus. A cause is not necessarily good because some good men have favoured it, nor necessarily bad because bad men have supported it ; yet we all know that many well-meaning men voted against the abolition of the slave-trade, because it was advocated by some partisans of the French Revolution ' ' It might at first sight appear that the absurdities of party, so obvious to every thinking man, would render the adoption of a right course a matter of no very great diificulty ; indeed, an aphorism is already provided for our guidance, which apparently is as simple and easy as the rule of party itself: ' Steer clear of both parties ; hold the middle course.' But simple and sound as the maxim may appear, its validity will be greatly weakened by a close examination. Both parties are not absolutely wrong; each is partially wrong and partially right : to keep always equi- distant from both is to keep away from the truths as well as from the falsehoods, and to expose yourself to the chance, or rather to the certainty, of being influenced by each in turn. ' It is impossible for a man to realize the fable of Moham- med's cofiin, and remain for ever balanced between equipollent attractions, but he may oscillate like a pendulum between the two extremes. In such a case, he will yield to both parties, be duped by both, and be despised by all. The truly independent course is to act as if party had no existence ; to follow that which is wisest and best in itself, irrespective of the side wliich makes the loudest claim to the monopoly of goodness. No doubt, such a course will often approach, or rather be ap- 110*- ', • •* * ^ Of Great Place. [Essay xi. proacbed by, the orbit of one party at one time, and the other at another, just as each of them chances to come the nearer to what is really right. JS^ay more, as each party does possess some truth mingled with its falsehoods, it is perfectly possible to be identified with one of two bigoted and opposed parties on some special question, and to be similarly identified with the other party on a difierent question 'These coincidences may be called \\\q, Nodes of the difi'erent orbits ; and when they occur, the proper movements are most subject to disturbing influences. The attraction of party varies inversely as the square of the distance ; when you are brought near a powerful and organized mass, there is a strong tempta- tion to pass over the intervening space. (Pages 46-48.) ' The demand on a great man's liberality is greatly increased if he holds himself aloof from party ; for this offence forgiveness can only be purchased by a very lavish system of disbursements; and after all, he must be prepared to find, that every shilling bestowed by party-men is equivalent to his jiound It is not necessary to dilate on the merits of prudent economy, but assuredly nowliere is such a virtue more indispensably required than when demands on expenditure are regulated, not by realities, but by imaginations. 'Great as is the evil of having your expenditure of money and time measured by the imaginations of persons, who do not trouble themselves to investigate realities, the evil is fearfully aggravated by the diversity of objects to which each set of imaginings refers. Those who surround you seem to act literally on Swift's advice to servants, each of whom is recommended to do his best in his own particular department, to spend the whole of his master's property. Thus it is with your money and time ; ever}^ person seems to expect that both should be bestowed on his favourite project to their extreme amount, and no one is disposed to take into account that there are other claims and demands which should not be abridged in their fair proportioiis. There will be a combination to entrap you into a practical exemplification of ' the sophism of composition ; men will say, you can aflibrd ' this, that, or the other expense : forgetting that all together will ruin you.' (Page 84.) Essay xi.] AnnotaUons. . Ill ' Reform, therefore, without hravery or scandal of former times and persons ^ hut yet set it down to thyself as well to create good jprecedents as to follow them.'' ' To warn a public man (says the author of The Bishoj)) of ordinary sense, against innovation, is just as idle as to warn him against taking physic : he will have recourse to neither one nor the otlier, unless forced by necessity. The thing to be feared in both cases is, that he will delay the application of alteratives until the disease can only be cured by violent remedies. One of the finest mills in our manufacturing districts is also one of the oldest ; the machinery in it has always kept abreast with the progress of modern invention, but it has never been closed a single day for the purpose of renovation or repair. I asked its proprietor the explanation of so remarkable a phe- nomenon ; he gave it in one sentence, ' I am always altering, but never changing.' Men sometimes deal with institutions as Sir John Cutler did with his stockings ; they darn them with worsted until, from silken, they are changed into woollen, while the stupid owners persist in asserting their continued identity. The cry of ' inno^-ation' belongs exclusively to the Duncery ; but reluctance to change is a feeling shared with them by sensible people. ' Among the many fallacies of the day that pass unquestioned, there is none more general nor more fallacious than that inno- vation is popular; the truth is, that a judicious innovator is likely to be, at least for a time, the most unpopular man in the universe : he will be hated by those who are satisfied with old evils ; lie will be disliked by the timid and the lazy, who dread the peril and the trouble of change ; and he will receive little favour from those most conscious of the evil, because his re- medies will not act as a charm, and remove in an instant the accumulated ills of centuries 'Some persons are not aware of the fact, that in all men the love of ease is far superior to the love of change ; in the serious concerns of life, novelty is never desired for its own sake ; then, habit becomes a second nature, and it is only the positive pres- sure of evil that can drive us to alteration. We do find men occasionally rash and insatiable in changing ; but this is only r^ 1-12 Of Great Place. [Essay xi. from their being impatient under the sense of real evils, and in error as to remedies. The violent vicissitudes of the first French Revolution were not the result of a mad love of experi- ments ; they were produced by the national bankrnptcy of France, and the starving condition of the people of Paris. An ignorant man suffering under painful disease will try the pre- scription of every mountebank, and without waiting to see how one quack medicine operates, will have recourse to another. A fevered nation, like a feverish patient, turns from side to side — not through love of change, but because, while the disease con- tinues, any fixed posture must be painful. The physician who superintends his condition knoAvs that his restlessness and im- patience are symptoms of the disease: it would be well if those who superintend our political and ecclesiastical state, while they justly regard discontents and disturbances as evils in them- selves, would also look upon them as certain signs that there is something wrong somewhere.' (Pages 315-318.) ^Embrace and invite helps and advices toucJiing the execution of thy office.^ ' The dread of unworthy imputations of undue influence may often drive a worthy man into a perilous course. The fear of being deemed an imitator is scarcely less dangerous than that of being supposed to be led. We frequently see those who re- gard the course of a wise and good man with mingled aft'ection and veneration, influenced by his example for the worse rather than for the better, by indulging their ruling passion for origin- ality, and by their abhorrence of being regarded as followers and imitators. To avoid coincidences becomes the great labour of their lives, and they take every opportunity of ostentatiously declaring the originality and independence of their course. Nay, they will not only declare their originality, but they will seek to make or find opportunities of exhibiting it, though the course they adopt in consequence may be contrary to their own secret judgment, A man who yields to this w^eakness, which is far more rife than the world generally believes, is the slave of any one who chuses to work upon his foible. The only thing requisite to make him commit any conceivable folly, is to dare him to depart from his friend's counsel or example. Miss Essay xi.] Annotations. 113 Edgeworth, in lier Juvenile Tales, has admirably illustrated the consequeuce of yielding to such fears ; Tarlton in vain strove to persuade the weak Lovett to break bounds by appeals to his courage, but when he hinted that his refusal would be attributed to his dependence on the strong-minded Hardy, the poor boy sprang over the wall with nervous alacrity. Tliis dread of imitation often leads to the neglect of valuable suggestions which might be derived from the tactics and example of adversaries. ' Fas est et ab lioste doceri,' is a maxim more frequently quoted than acted on, and yet its wisdom is con- firmed by every day's experience. A casual remark made long ago to me by your Lordship contains the rationale of the whole matter — ' It is ignorance, and not knowledge, that rejects instruction; it is weakness, and not strength, that refuses co-operation.' ' (Page 77.) 'In bestowing office, and in selecting instruments, a man anxious to do his duty must take into account both the kind and degree of fitness in the candidates. Of the degrees of intel- ligence the world is a very incompetent judge, and of the dilfer- ences in kind, it knows little or nothing. With the vulgar everything is good, bad, or middling ; and if three persons are worthy and intelligent men, you will find that the preference you show to any one of them is considered to be the result of mere caprice. For instance, you know that the clerical requi- sites for an agricultural parish are difterent from those necessary in a manufacturing district, and that both are dissimilar to the qualifications for a chaplaincy to a collegiate institution, or for a prebendal stall. Your choice will be guided by these con- siderations ; but, beyond doubt, you will find very few wlio can appreciate or even understand such motives. . . . Now, this want of discriminating power and knowledge in the spec- tators of your career, will by no means induce them to suspend the exercise of their fallacious judgment: on the contrary, opinions will be pronounced most positively by those who are most wanting in opportunity to discover, and in capacity to estimate, your motives. But the erroneous judgments of others must not lead you to be suspicious of your own ; the value of the tree will be finally known by its fruits, — it would be folly to neglect its training, or to grub it up, because people ignorant of the adaptation of soil to growth, tell you that another tree 114 Of Great Place. [Essay xi. in the same place would be more useful or more ornamental. You know botli the soil and the plant — the vast majority of your censurers will know nothing of the one and marvellously little of the other.' (Page 174.) ' When thou chnngest thine ojnnion or course^ jprofess it jj^lamly, and declare it, together with the reasons that moved thee to change.'' Considerino; that the course Bacon here recommends is not only the most ingenuous and dignified, but also the most pru- dent with a view to men's approbation, it is wonderful how often this maxim is violated. Many persons will rather back out of an opinion or course of conduct, by the most awkward shifts, than frankly acknowledge a change of mind. They seem to dread nothing so much as a suspicion of what they call ' inconsistency ;' that is, owning oneself to be wiser to-day than yesterday. It has been pointed out in the Elements of Rhetoric,^ that tliere is no inconsistency (though the term is often improperly so applied) in a change of opinion, provided it be frankly avowed ; since this is what any sensible man, conscious of being fallible, holds himself always ready for, if good reasons can be shown. Indeed, any one who, while not claiming infallibility, yet resolves never to alter his opinion, is, in that, manifestly inconsistent. For, real inconsistency is the holding — either expressly or impliedly — two opposite opinions at the same time j as, for instance, proclaiming the natural right of all men to freedom, and yet maintaining a system of slavery ; or condemn- ing disingenuous conduct in one party, which, in the opposite party, you vindicate ; or confessing yourself fallible, and yet resolving to be immutable. It is remarkable that a change is sometimes falsely imputed to a man in high office, or otherwise influential, as a device of party-craft, or to cover a change in the way of treating him. When some Party has been vainly trying to hunt down (as the phrase is) by calumny and vexatious opposition, one who refuses to join them, and they find that their assaults instead of prevail- * Part ii. chaji. iii. sec. 5. Essay xi.] Annotations. 115 ing, rather recoil on themselves, or perhaps that he may be a useful help to them in some object, the most crafty of them will some times give out that he has changed, and is converted, — or in a fair way to be converted — to their Party : — that he lias 'modified his views,' and is becoming (suppose) ' Conserva- tive,' or 'Liberal,' or ' Orthodox,' or 'Evangelical,' (fee, as the case may be. Thus they escape the shame (as the vulgar ac- count it) of frankly owning that they were wrong in their fomner persecution. And, moreover, they perhaps hope actually to win him to their Party ; or, at least, to persuade the multi- tude that they have done so ; and thus enlist at least the influ- ence of his name in their cause. ' A servant or a favourite^ if he he inward^ and no other ajyparent cause of esteem^ is commonly thought hut a hy-way to close corrujytlon. ' If the relations you form with your subordinates, particu- larly those whose position brings them into frequent and imme- diate contact with you, be founded on intellectual sympathies, and common views of great principles, eflbrts will be made to sow discord between you, by representing him as the juggler, and you as the puppet. In this case calumny disguises its im- putation by flattery, and compliments your heart at the expense of your head. ' He is,' the maligners will say, ' a very worthy, well-meaning man, but he sees only with A. B.'s eyes, and acts only on A. B.'s suggestions ; he is a very good and clever man, but he thinks by proxy.' ' If you are a student, — if you have acquired any reputation for scholarship or literature, — but, above all, if you have ever been an author, this imputation will be circulated and credited ; for one of the most bitter pieces of revenge which readers take on writers, is to receive implicitly the aphorism of the block- heads, that studious habits produce an inaptitude for the busi- ness of active life. ' The imputation of being led is not very pleasant, but it may very safely be despised ; in the long run men will learn to judge of your actions from their nature, and not from their supposed origin. But the nature of this calumny deserves to be more closely investigated, because there is nothing more 116 Of Great Place. [Essay xi. injurious to public men than tlie jealousy of subordinate strength which it is designed to produce. The cases are, indeed, very rare, of an upright, sensible man being led either by a knave or a fool ; but there are countless examples of a weak man be- ing led by a weaker, or a low-principled man by a downright rogue. Now, in most of these cases, it will be found that the subjugation arose from trusting to the impossibility of being led by one of obviously inferior strength. Cunning is the wisdom of weakness, and those who chiise the weak for their instruments, expose themselves to its arts.' (Pages 68-70.) And here it is to be observed that it is (as Dr. Taylor hints in the passage above) a common artifice of those who wish to disparage some person of too high character to be assailed openly, to profess great esteem and veneration for him, but to lament liis being ' in bad hands ;' — misled by evil counsellors, Mdio make him think and do whatever they will. This is just the manifesto put foi'th by most rebels ; who honour, forsooth, their king, but rise in arms to drive away his bad advisers. Now though a little hoy may be on the whole a promising child, — notwithstanding that he may have been seduced or bullied into something wrong, by naughty seniors, a man^ and one in high station, if he really does allow himself to be led blindfold by weak or wicked men, is evidently good-for-nothing. And such therefore must be the opinion really entertained of a person to whom this is imputed, how much soever of esteem and venera- tion may be professed. ''As forfaGility., it is worse than 'bribery.'' ' It is scarcely necessary to dwell on the necessity of caution in bestowing confidence ; it is the highest favour in your power to confer, and deliberation enhances an act of kindness just as much as it ao-o-ravates an act of malice. ' Favours which seem to be dispensed upon an impulse, with an unthinking facility, are received like the liberalities of a spendthrift, and men thank God for them.' It is of more importance to observe that even a greater degree of caution is necessary in suspending or with- drawing confidence ; gross indeed should be the treachery, and unquestionable the proofs, that would justify such a course. The world generally will blame your original choice ; your discarded Essay xi.] Annotations. 117 adherent will be lowered iu his own esteem, and consequently will thus far have made a sad progress in moral degradation ; and your own mind will not escape scatheless ; for greater proneness to suspicion will of necessity develope itself in your character. Most of all is caution required in restoring confi- dence ; constitutional changes are wrought in every moral principle during its period of suspended animation ; though the falling-out of lovers he proverbially the renewal of love, it is questionable whether the suspended confidence of friends is ever wholly effaced in its influences. Had Csesar recovered from the stab which Brutus gave him, he might, with his usual clemency, have pardoned the crime ; but he would not have been the Csesar I take him for, if he did not ever after adopt the precaution of wearing armour when he was in company with Brutus. The hatred of an enemy is bad enough, but no earthly passion equals in its intensity the hatred of a friend.' (Page 72.) ' Tliere are people who believe that the voice of censure should never be heard in an interview, and that you have no right to rebuke presumption, check interference, or make men conscious of their weakness. You are to aflect a humility, by which you tacitly confess yourself destitute of moral judgment. But you must remember that,'in interviews connected with your official station, you appear for the most part as an adjudicator; an appeal is made to you, as holding the balance of justice, and also as a wielder of its sword. ' A righteous humility,' says the author of the Statesman, 'will teach a man never to pass a sen- tence in a spirit of exultation : a righteous courage will teach him never to withhold it from fear of being disliked. Popu- larity is commonly obtained by a dereliction of the duties of censure, under a pretext of humility.' (Page 256.) ' There is great danger of praise from men in high place being identified with promise, and compliment tortured into grounds of hope, — not always hope of promotion, but hope of influencing promotion. Your approbation warmly expressed will be deemed to have a value beyond the mere expression of your opinion, and though you expressly guard against expecta- tions, you will nevertheless raise them. A late chancellor, to whom more books were sent and dedicated than he could possibly read if his life was prolonged to antediluvian duration, 118 Of Great Place. [Essay xi. by the complimentary answers lie sent to the authors, gathered round him a host of expectants, and produced a mass of suffering which would scarcely be credited save by those who were per- sonally acquainted with it. Kindness and cordiality of manner are scarcely less pleasing to the feelings than express compli- ment, and they are the more safe for both parties, since they afford no foundation for building up expectations ; a species of architecture sufficiently notorious for the weakness of the foun- dations that support an enormous superstructure.' (Page 163.) ' Severity hreedeth fear? 'It may be doubted whetlier it is politic, where a man has wholly lost your esteem, and has no chance of regaining it, to let him know that his doom is fixed irrevocably. The hope of recovering his j^lace in your estimation may be a serviceable check on his conduct ; and if he supposes you to be merely angry wuth him (a mistake commonly made by vulgar minds), he may hope and try to pacify you by an altered course, trusting that in time you will forget all. In sucli a case you need not do or say anything deceitful ; you have only to leave him in his error. On the other hand, if he finds that you have no resent- ment, but that your feeling is confirmed disesteem, and that the absence of all anger is the very consequence of such a feeling- - for you cannot be angry where you do not mean to trust again — he may turn out a mischievous hater. ' On the whole, however, the frank, open-hearted course is the more politic in the long run. If you use towards all whom you really esteem, a language which in time wnll come to be fully understood by all, from its being never used except where you really esteem, then, and then only, you will deserve and obtain the full reliance of the worthy. They will feel certain that they possess your esteem, and that if they do anything by which it may be forfeited, it will be lost for ever. '- To establish such a belief is the best means of preserving the peace and purity of your circle, and it is worth while risking some enmity to effect so desirable an object. ' It must, however, be observed that it is equally politic and christian-like to avoid breaking with anybody ; wdiile you pur- chase no man's forbearance by false hopes of his regaining youi Essay xi.] Annotations. 119 esteem, you must not drive liim into hostility througli fear of your doinp; him a mischief. The rule of Spartan warfare is not inapplicable to the conduct of a christian statesman ; never give way to an assailing enemy, — never pursue a flying foe further than is necessary to secure the victory. Let it be always understood that it is safe to yield to you, and 3'ou will re- move the worst element of resistance, despair of pardon.' (Pages T2-T0.) ^Be not too remeinlering of thy place in conversation and private answers to suitors.'' Tliere may, however, be an error on the opposite side. — ' Men are often called atfable and no way proud,' says Dr. Cooke Taylor in the work already quoted, 'who really exhibit a vulgar sort of pride in taking liberties, and talking to their inferiors with a kind of condescending familiarity which is gratifying to mean minds, but which to every person of delicacy, is the most odious form of insolence. If you wish to be familiar with an inferior, let him rather feel that you have raised him to your own level than that you have lowered yourself to his. You may see the propriety of this aphorism unfortunately manifested in books written by clever men for the use of tlie humble classes, and for children. Many of these are rejected as offen- sive, because the writers deem it necessary to show that they are gomg d.own to a low level of understanding ; their familiarity becomes sheer vulgarity, and their affected simplicity is puzzle- headed obscurity. The condescension of some great people is like the ' letting down' in such authors ; they render themselves more ridiculous than Hercules at the court of Omphale, for they assume the distaff without discarding the club and lion's skin. It is also very unfair ; for those who go to admire the sjiinning, or to be amused at its incongruity, are exposed to the danger of getting an awkward knock from the club.' (Page 180.) ' Certainly, men in great fortunes are strangers to themselves, amd while they are in the p>uzzle of husiness they have no ti7ne to tend their health either of body or mind.'' The following passage from ' The Bishoj?' bears upon this en- 120 Of Great Place. [Essay xi. grossment in public business : — ' Tliere are two opposite errors into which many public men have fallen; on the one hand, allowing family concerns to intermingle with public business, on the other, sacrificing to then- station all the enjoyments of private life. The former interference is rare ; it is so obviously a source of perplexity and annoyance, that it soon works its own cure ; but the latter 'grows by what it feeds upon.' Unless you habitually court the privacy of the domestic circle, you will find that you are losing that intimate acquaintance with those who compose it which is its chief charm, and the source of all its advantage. In your family alone can there be that intercourse of heart with heart which falls like refreshing dew on the soul when it is withered and parched by the heats of business and the intense selfishness which you must hourly meet in public life. Unless your affections are sheltered in that sanctuary, they cannot long resist the blighting influence of a constant re]u-ession of their development, and a compulsory substitution of calculation in their stead. Domestic privacy is necessary, not only to your happiness, but even to your efiiciency ; it gives the rest necessary to your active powers of judgment and discrimi- nation ; it keeps unclosed those well-springs of the heart whose flow is necessary to float onwards the determination of the head. It is not enough that the indulgence of these aifections should fill up the casual cliinks of your time ; they must have their allotted portion of it, with which nothing but urgent necessity should be allowed to interfere. These things are the aliments of his greatness ; they preserve within him that image of moral beauty which constant intercourse with the public world — that is, the world with its worse side outwards — is too likely to efface. ' If om* clergy had been permitted to marry,' said an intelligent Romanist, ' we never should have had inquisitors.' ' (Page 327.) ' A jplace sJioweth the man : and it sJioweth some to the hetter^ and some to the worse.'' Bacon here quotes a Greek proverb, and a very just one. Some persons of great promise, when raised to high oflice, either are puffed up with self-sufficiency, or daunted by the ' high winds that blow on high hills,' or in some way or other dis- Essay xi.] Annotations. 121 appoint expectiition. And others, again, show talents and courage, and other qualifications, when these are called forth by high office, beyond what any one gave them credit for before, and beyond what they suspected to be in themselves. It is unhappily very difficult to judge how a man will conduct himself in a high office, till the trial has been made. It must not, however, be forgotten that renown and commendation will, as in other cases, be indiscriminate. By those whose nearness, or easiness of access, enables them to form an accurate judgment, many a public man will be found neither so detestable nor so admirable as perhaps he is thought by opposite parties. This truth is well expressed in the fable of ' The Clouds." ' Two cliildren once, at eventide, Thus prattled by their parents' side: — * See, mother, see that stormy cloud ! What can its inky bosom shroud ? It looks so black, I do declare I shudder quite to see it there.' * And father, fiither, now behold Those others, all of pink and gold ! How beautiful and briglit their hue I I wish that I were up there too : For, if they look so fine from here. What must they be when one is near 1' ' Children,' the smiling sire replied, ' I've climbed a mountain's lofty side, Where, lifted 'mid the clouds awhile, Distance no longer could beguile : And closer seen, I needs must say That all the clouds are merely grey ; Differing in sliade from one another, But each in colour like his brother. Those clouds you see of gold and pink. To others look as black as ink ; And that same cloud, so black to you, To some may wear a golden hue. E'en so, my children, they whom fate Has planted iu a low estate, Viewing their rulers from afar. Admire what prodigies they are. O ! what a tyrant ! dreadful doom ! His crimes have wrapped our land in gloom I ' See Fourth Book of the Lessons f&r the Use of National ScJwols, page 49, 122 Of Great Place. [Essay xi. A tyrant ! nay, a hero thifs. The glorious source of all our bliss ! But they who haunt the magic sphere, Beholding then its inmates near, Know that the men, by some adored, By others flouted and al)horred. Nor sink so low, nor rise so high. As seems it to the vulgar eye. The man his party deems a hero, His foes, a Judas, or a Nero — Patriot of superhuman worth. Or vilest wretch that cumbers earth. Derives his bright or murky hues From distant and from party views ; Seen close, nor black nor gold are they, But every one a sober grey.' ' ESSAY XIL OF BOLDNESS. IT is a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worthy a wise man's consideration : question was asked of Demosthenes,' what Avas the chief part of an orator? He answered, action: what next ? action : what next again ? action. He said it that knew it best, and had by nature himself no advantage in that he commended. A strange tiling, that that part of an orator which is but superficial, and rather the virtue of a player, should be placed so high above those other noble parts, of invention, elo- cution, and the rest ; nay, almost alone, as if it were all in all. But the reason is j)lain. There is in human nature generally more of the fool than of the wise ; and therefore those faculties by which the foolish part of men's minds is taken, are most potent. Wonderful like is the case of boldness in civil busi- ness ; what first ? boldness : what second and third ? boldness. And yet boldness is a child of ignorance and baseness, far infe- rior to other parts : but, nevertheless, it doth fascinate, and bind lumd and foot those that are either shallow in judgment or weak in courage, which are the greatest part, yea, and prevaileth with wise men at weak times ; therefore we see it hatli done wonders in popular States, but with senates and princes less — and more, ever upon the first entrance of bold persons into action, than soon after ; for boldness is an ill keeper of promise. Surely, as there are mountebanks for the natural body, so there are mountebanks for the politic'' Body — men that undertake great cures, and perhaps have been lucky in two or three ex- periments, but want the grounds of science, and therefore cannot hold out. Nay, you shall see a bold fellow many times do Mahomet's miracle. Mahomet made the people believe that he would call a hill to him, and from tlie top of it offer up his prayers for the observers of his law. The people assembled ; Mahomet called the hill to come to him again and again ; and when the hill stood still, he was never a whit 'abashed, but • Plut. Vit. Demosth. 17, 18. "^ Politic. Political; civil. ' Whit. TJie leant degree ; the smallest particle. ' Not a whit behind the v^ery chiefest Apostles.' — 2 Car. xi. 5. 124 Of Boldness. [Essay xii. said, ' If the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the hill.' So these men, when they have promised great matters, and failed most shamefully, yet, if they have the per- fection of boldness, they will but slight it over,' and make a turn, and no more ado.^ Certainly, to men of great judgment, bold persons are sport to behold — nay, and to the vulgar also boldness hath somewhat of the ridiculous : for, if absurdity bo the subject of laughter, doubt you not that great boldness is seldom without some absurdity : especially it is a sport to see when a bold fellow is out of countenance, for that puts his face into a most shrunken and wooden posture, as needs it must — for in bashfulness the spirits do a little go and come — but with bold men, upon like occasion, they stand at a stay ;' like a stale at chess, where it is no mate, but yet the game cannot stir ; but this last were fitter for a satire than for a serious observation. This is well to be weighed, that boldness is ever blind, for it seeth not dangers and inconveniences : therefore it is ill in counsel, good in execution ; so that the right use of bold persons is, that they never command in chief, but be seconds, and under the direction of others ; for in counsel it is good to see dangers, and in execution not to see them, except they be very great. ANNOTATIONS. ^Boldness is a child of ignorance and haseness far inferior to otlier jparts^ Bacon seems to have had that over-estimate of those who are called the ' prudent' M'liich is rather common. One cause of the supposed superiority of wisdom often attributed to the over-cautious, reserved, non-confiding, non-enterprising charac- ' Slight over. To treat carelexxly. ' His deatli, and your deliverance, Were themes that ought not to be slighted over. — Bryden. * Ado. ' Much ado about nothing.' — Shakespere. ^ (Stay. Stand; cessation of progression. ' Never to decay Until his revolution was at stay.' — Milton. Essay xii.] Annotations. 125 ters, as compared witli the more open, free-spoken, active, and daring, is the tendency to over-rate the amount of what is distinctly known. The bold and enterprising are likely to meet with a greater number of tangible failures than the over- cautious ; and yet if you take a hundred average men of each description, you will find that the bold have had, on the whole, a more successful career. But the failures — that is, the non- success — of the over-cautious, cannot be so distinctly traced. Such a man only misses the advantages — often very great — which boldness and free-speaking might have gained. He who always goes on foot will never meet with a fall from a horse, or be stopped on a journey by a restive horse ; but he who rides, though exposed to these accidents, will, in the end, have accom- plished more journeys than the other. He who lets his land lie tallow, will have incurred no losses from bad harvests; but he will not have made so much of his land as if he had ven- tured to encounter such risks. The kind of boldness which is most to be deprecated — or at least as much so as the boldness of ignorance — is daring, un- accompanied by firmness and steadiness of endurance. Such was that which Tacitus attributes to the Gauls and Britons: ' Eadem in deposcendis periculis audacia ; eadem in detrectandis, ubi advenerint, formido." This character seems to belong to those who have — in phrenological language — IIo_pe, and Coiiir hativeness, large, and Firmness small. ' The same daring in rushing into dangers, cand the same timidity in shrinking from tliem when tliey come. ESSAY XIII. OF GOODNESS, AND GOODNESS OF NATURE. I TAKE goodness in tins sense, — the affecting' of the weal of men, which is that the Grecian, call Philanthropia ; and the word humanity, as it is nsed, is a little too light to express it. Goodness, I call the habit, and goodness of nature the inclination. This, of all virtues and dignities of the mind, is the greatest, being the character of the Deity ; and without it, man is a busy, mischievous, wretched thing, no better than a kind of vermin. Goodness answers to the theological virtue, Charity, and admits no excess but error. The desire of power in excess caused the angels to fall — the desire of knowledge in excess caused Man to fall ; but in charity there is no excess, neither can angel or Man come in danger by it. Tlie inclina- tion to goodness is imprinted deeply in the nature of Man ; iusomuch, that if it issue not towards men, it will take unto other living creatures ; as it is seen in the Turks, a cruel people, who, nevertheless, are kind to beasts, give alms to dogs and birds ; insomuch as Busbechius'' reporteth a christian boy in Constantinople had liked to have been stoned for gagging in a waggishness, a long-billed fowl. Errors, indeed, in this virtue, in goodness or charity, may be committed. The Italians have of it an ungracious proverb, 'Tanto buon die val niente," and one of the doctors of Italy, Nicholas Machiavel, had the confidence to put in writing, almost in plain terms, 'That the christian faith had given up good men in prey to those who are tyrannical and unjust:' which he spake, because, indeed, there was never law, or sect, or opinion, did so much magnify goodness as the christian religion doth ; therefore, to avoid the scandal and the danger both, it is good to take knowledge* of the errors of a habit so excellent. Seek the good of other man, but be not in ' Affecting. TJie being desirous of ; aiming at. See page 1. '^ Busbecliius. A learned Fleming of the 16tli century, in his Travels in the East. ' ' So good that he is good for nothing.' * Take knowledge of. Talce cognizance of. ' Tliey took knowledge o/"them, that they had been with Jesus.' — Acts iv. 13. Essay xiii.] Of Goodness, and Goodness of ligature. 127 bondage to tlieir faces or fancies; for tliat is but facility or softness, which taketh an honest mind prisoner. Neither give thou ^sop's cock a gem, who would be better pleased and happier if he had a barley-corn. The example of God teacheth the lesson truly : ' He sendeth his rain, and maketh his sun to shine upon the just and the unjust ;' but he doth not rain wealth nor shine honour and virtues upon men equally : common benefits are to be communicated with all, but peculiar benefits with choice. And beware how in making the jDortraiture thou breakest the pattern ; for divinity maketh the love of ourselves the pattern — the love of our neighbours but the j^ortraiture : 'Sell all thou hast, and give it to the poor, and follow me;' but sell not all thou hast, except thou come and follow me — that is, except thou have a vocation^ wherein thou mayest do as much goojl with little means as with great — for otherwise, in feeding the streams thou driest the fountain. ]N^either is there only a habit of goodness directed by right reason ; but there is in some men, even in nature, a disposi- tion towards it, as, on the other side, there is a natural malignity ; for there be that in their nature do not aifect the good of others. Tlie lighter sort of malignity turneth but to a crossness, or frowardness, or aptness to oppose, or difiicileness,'^ or the like ; but the deeper sort to envy, and mere mischief. Such men, in other men's calamities, are, as it were, in season, and are ever on the loading' jDart — not so good as the dogs that licked Lazarus' sores, but like flies that are still buzzing upon anything that is raw — misanthropi [men-haters], that make it their practice to bring men to the bough, and yet never have a tree for the purpose in their gardens, as Timon" had : such dispositions are the very errors of human nature, and yet they are the fittest timber to make great polities'^ of — like to knee-timber,' that is good for ships that are ordained to be tossed, but not for building houses that shall stand firm. ' Vocation. See page 20. * Difficileness. Difficully to be permaded. ' The Cardinal, finding the Pope difficile'in granting the dispensation.' — Bacon, Henry VII. ' Loading. Loaden ; burdened. * See an account of Timon in Phitarch's Life of Hare Antony. * Politics. Politicians. See page 21. Knee-timber. A timber cut in the shape of the knee whe7i bent. 128 Of Goodness^ and Goodness of Nature. [Essay xiii. The parts and signs of goodness are manj. If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world, and that his heart is no island cut off" from other lands, but a continent that joins to them, — if he be compas- sionate towards the afflictions of others, it shows that his heart is like the noble tree that is wounded itself when it gives the balm, — if he easily pardons and remits offences, it shows that his mind is planted above injuries, so that he cannot be shot, • — if he be thankful for small benefits, it shows that he weighs men's minds, and not their trash ; but, above all, if he have St. Paul's perfection, that he would wish to be an anathema from Christ,' for the salvation of his brethren, it shows much of a divine natm-e, and a kind of conformity with Christ himself. ANNOTATIONS. ' Goodness admits no excess, hut erreyr? Bacon is speaking of what is now called benevolence and beneficence ; and Ids remark is very just, that it admits of no excess in quantity, though it may be misdirected and erroneous. For if your liberality be such as to reduce your family to poverty, or — like the killing of the hen that laid the golden eggs — such as to put it out of your power hereafter to be liberal at all ; or if it be bestowed on the undeserving ; this is rather to be accomited an unwise and misdirected benevolence than an excess of it in quantity. And we have here a remark- able instance of the necessity of keeping the wliole character and conduct, even our most amiable propensities, under the control of right principle guided by reason ; and of taking pains to understand the subject relating to each duty you are called on to perform. For there is perhaps no one quality that can produce a greater amount of mischief than may be done by thoughtless good-nature. For instance, if any one out of tenderness of heart and reluctance to punish or to discard the crimijial and worthless, lets loose on society, or advances to important offices,miscliievous characters, he will have conferred * Romans ix. 3. Essay xiii.] Annotations. 129 a doubtful benefit on a few, and done incalculable hurt to thousands. So also, to take one of the commonest and most obvious cases, that of charity to the poor, — a man of great wealth, by freely relieving all idle vagabonds, might go far towards ruining the industry, and the morality, and the pros- perity, of a whole nation. ' For there can be no doubt that careless, indiscriminate alms-giving does far more harm than good ; since it encourages idleness and improvidence, and also imposture. If you give freely to ragged and filthy street beggars, you are in fact hiring people to dress themselves in filthy rags, and go about begging with fictitious tales of distress. If, on the contrary, you carefully inquire for, and relieve, honest and industrious persons who have fallen into distress tln-ough unavoidable misfortune, you are not only doing good to those objects, but also holding out an encouragement generally to honest industry. ' You may, however, meet with persons who say, ' as long as it is my intention to relieve real distress, my charity is equally virtuous, though the tale told me may be a false one. The impostor alone is to be blamed who told it me ; I acted ou what he said ; and if that is untrue, the fault is his, and not mine.' ' Now this is a fair plea, if any one is deceived after making careful inquiry : but if he has not taken the trouble to do this, regarding it as no concern of his, you might ask him how he would act and judge in a case where he is thoroughly in earnest — that is, where his own interest is concerned. Suppose he employed a steward or other agent, to buy for him a house, or a horse, or any other article, and this agent paid an exorbitant price for what was really worth little or nothing, giving just the same kind of excuse for allowing his employer to be thus cheated ; saying, ' I made no careful inquiries, but took the seller'' s word / and his being a liar and a cheat, is his fault, and not mine ;' the employer would doubtless reply, ' The seller indeed is to be condemned for cheating ; but so are you, for your carelessness of my interests. His being greatly in fault does not clear you / and your merely intending to do what was right, is no excuse for your not taking pains to gain right in- formation.' ' Now on such a principle we ought to act in our charities : 9 130 Of Goodness^ and Goodness of Nature. [Essay xiii regarding ourselves as stewards of all that Providence has bestowed, and as bound to expend it in the best way possible, and not shelter our own faulty negligence under the misconduct of another,'' It is now generally acknowledged that relief afibrded to want, as mere want, tends to increase that want; while the relief afforded to the sick, the infirm, and the disabled, has plainly no tendency to multiply its own objects. Now it is remarkable, that the Lord Jesus employed his miraculous power in healing the sick continually., but in feeding the hungry only twice ; while the power of multijjlying food which he then manifested, as well as his directing the disciples to take care and gather up the fragments that remained that nothing might be lost, served to mark that the abstaining from any like procedure on other occasions was deliberate design. Li this, besides other objects, our Lord had probably in view to aiFord us some instruction, from his example, as to the mode of our charity. Certain it is, that the reasons for this distinction are now, and ever must be, the same as at that time. Now to those engaged in that im- portant and inexhaustible subject of inquiry, the internal evi- dences of Christianity, it will be interesting to observe here, one of the instances in wdiich the super-human wisdom of Jesus fore- stalled the discovery of an important principle, often overlooked, not only by the generality of men, but by the most experienced statesmen and the ablest philosophers, even in these later ages of extended human knowledge, and development of mental power. ' It is good to take knowledge of the errors of a hah it so excellent.^ As there are errors in its direction, so there are mistakes concerning its nature. For instance, some persons have a cer- tain nervous horror at the sight of bodily pain, or death, or blood, wdiicli they and others mistake for benevolence ; which may or may not accompany it. Phrenologists have been derided for attributing large destructiveness (which, however, is not inconsistent with large benevolence, though more prominently remarkable when not so combined) to a person who had never killed anything but a flea, or to one who could not bear to ' See Introductory Lessons on Morals, Lesson xvi. p, 1 39. Essay xiii.] Annotations. 131 cnisli a wasp or fly that was keeping him awake all uight ; as it" they had meant ' the organ of killing.' And yet such a person would, according to their own accounts of their own system, bear out their sentence, if he was harsh in admonishing or rebuking, bitter in resentment, trampling without pity on the feelings and the claims of others, &c. AVe should not confound together physical delicacy of nerves, and extreme tenderness of heart and benevolence and gentle- ness of character. It is also important to guard against mis- taking for good nature, what is properly good humour — a cheer- ful flow of spirits, and easy temper not readily annoyed, which is compatible with great selfishness. It is curious to observe how people who are always thinking of their own pleasure or interest, will often, if possessing con- siderable ability, make others give way to them, and obtain everything they seek, except liajpjjyiness. For, like a spoiled child, who at length cries for the moon, they are always dissa- tisfied. And the benevolent, who are always thinking of others, and sacrificing their own personal gratifications, are usually the liappiest of mankind. There is this great advantage also, that the benevolent have over the selfish, as they grow old: the latter, seeking only their c^vn advantage, cannot escape the painful feeling that any benefit they procure for themselves can last but a short time ; but one who has been always seeking the good of others, has his interest kept up to the last, because he of course wishes tWit good may befal them after he is gone. ' The Turks, a C7mel peojyle, are nevertheless Yind to leasts.'' In the article formerly mentioned, in the I^orth Uritish Meview (Aug. 1S57), occurs a curious confirmation of Bacon's remai-k. And I will accordingly take the liberty of extracting the passage. 'The European cares nothing for brute life. He destroys the lower animals without scruple, whenever it suits his con- venience, his pleasure, or his caprice. He shoots his favourite horse and his favourite dog as soon as they become too old for service. The Mussulman preserves the lives of the lower ani- mals solicitously. Though he considers the dog impure, and never makes a friend of him, he thinks it sinful to kill him, and 132 Of Goodness^ and Ooodness of Nature. [Essay xiii allows the neighbourhood and even the streets of his towns to be invested by packs of masterless brutes, which you would get rid of in London in one day. The beggar does not venture to destroy his vermin : he puts thein tenderly on the groinid, to be swept up into the clothes of the next passer-by. There are hospitals in Cairo for superannuated cats, where they are fed at the public expense. ' But to human life he is utterly indifferent. He extinguishes it with much less scruple than that with which you shoot a horse past his work. Abbas, the late Viceroy, when a boy, had his pastry-cook bastinadoed to death. Melieraet Ali mildly reprov- ed him for it, as you would correct a child for killing a butter- fly. He explained to his little grandson that such things ought not to be done without a motive.' Bacon here slightly hints at a truth most important to be kept in mind, that a considerable endowment of natural bene- volence is not incompatible with cruelty ; and that, consequently, we must neither infer absence of all benevolence from such conduct as wou.ld be called ferocious, or ' ill-natured,' nor again calculate, from the existence of a certain amount of good nature, on a man's never doing anything cruel. When Thurtell, the murderer, was executed, there was shout of derision raised against the phrenologists for saying that his organ of henevolence was large. But they replied, that there was also large destructweness^ and a moral deficiency^ which would account for a man goaded to rage (by having beei cheated of almost all he had by the man he killed) committing that act. It is a remarkable confirmation of their view, that gentleman who visited the prison where Thurtell was confinedl (shortly after the execution) found the jailors, &c., full of pityj and affection for him. They said he was a kind, good-heartedi fellow, so obliging and friendly, that they had never had a pri-j soner whom they so much regretted. And such seems to havej been his general character, when not influenced at once by tliej desire of revenge and of gain. Again, there shall be, perhaps, a man of considerable bene- volence, but so fond of a joke that he will not be restrained bjj any tenderness for the feelings of others — Essay xiii.] Annotations. 133 ' Dum modo risum ' Excutiat sibi non hie cuiquam parcit amico.'* And lie may be, perhaps, also so sensitive himself as to be enraged at any censure or ridicule directed against himself; and also so envious as to be very spiteful against those whom he finds in any way advanced beyond him. Yet this same man may, perhaps, be very kind to his friends and his poor neigh- bours, as long as they are not rivals and do not at all aftront him, nor aftbrd any food for his insatiable love of ridicule. A benevolent dlsjyosUion is, no doubt, a great Jielj) towards a course of uniform practical benevolence ; but let no one trust to it, when there are other strong propensities, and no firm good principle. * So he can but have his joke, he will spare no friend, V ESSAY XIV. OF NOBILITY. TTTE will speak of nobility first as a portion of an estate,' * * then as a condition of particular persons. A monarchy where there is no nobility at all, is ever a pure and absolute tyranny, as that of the Turks ; for nobility attempers sovereignty, and draws the eyes of the people somewhat aside from the line royal ; but for democracies, they need it not, and they are com- monly more quiet, and less subject to sedition than where there are stirps^ of nobles — ^for men's eyes are upon the business, and not upon the persons; or, if upon the persons, it is for the business' sake, as fittest, and not for flags and pedigree. We see the Switzers last well, notwithstanding their diversity of religion and of cantons ; for utility is their bond, and not respects.' The United Provinces of the Low Countries in their government excel ; for where there is an equality, the consulta- tions are more indiflerent,'' and the payments au i tributes more cheerful. A great and potent nobility addetli majesty to a monarch, but diminisheth power ; and putteth life and spirit into the people, but presseth their fortune. It is well when nobles are not too great for sovereignty, nor for justice ; and yet maintained in that height, as the insolency'^ of inferiors may be broken upon them before it come on too fast upon the majesty of kings. A numerous nobility causeth poverty and inconvenience in a State, for it is a surcharge of expense : and besides, it being of necessity that many of the nobility fall in time to be weak in fortune, it maketh a kind of disj^roportion between honour and means. As for nobility in particular persons, it is a reverend thing to see an ancient castle or building not in decay, or to see a fair timber tree sound and perfect ; how much more to behold an ancient noble family, which hath stood against the waves * Estate. State ; a political body ; a commonwealth. 'The estate is green and yet ungoverned.' — Shakespere. ' Stirps. Race ; family. ' Sundry nations got footing on that land, of the which there yet remain divers great families and stirps.' — Spenser. ' Respects. Personal considerations. See page 106. * Indifferent. Impartial. See page 73. ' Insolency. Insolence. ' The insolencies of traitorB, and the violences of rebels.' — Bishop Taylor. Essay xiv.] Of NobiUiy. .135 and weathers of time ! for new nobility is but the act of power, but ancient nobility is the act of time. Those that are first raised to nobility, are commonly more virtuous, but less inno- cent, than their descendants — for there is rarely any rising but by a commixture of good and evil arts, — but it is reason' the memory of their virtues remain to their posterity, and their faults die with themselves, Nobility of birth commonly a])ateth industry ; and he that is not industrious, envieth him that is : besides, noble persons cannot go much higher ; and he that standeth at a stay^ when others rise, can hardly avoid motions' of envy. On the other side, nobility extinguisheth the passive envy from others towards them, because they are in possession of honour. Certainly, kings that have able men of their nobility, shall find ease in employing them, and a better slide into their business ; for people naturally bend to them as born in some sort to command. ANTITHETA ON NOBILITY. Pro. * * * * ' Nobilitas laurea, qua tempus homines coronat. ' High birth is the wreath with which men are crowned by time.' ' Antiquitatem etiam in monumentis veneramur : quanto niagis in vivis ? ' We reverence antiquity even in life- less moniunents ; how much more in liv- ing ones.'!' * * * * ' Nobilitas virtuteni invidiffi subducit, gratis tradit. ' Nobilltij withdraws virtue from envy, and commends it to f avow.' Contra. ' Raro ex virtute nobilitas : rarius ex nobilitate virtus. ' liability has seldom sprung from virtue : virtue still more rarely from nobility.' 'Nobiles majorum deprecatione, ad veniam, sajpius utuntur, quam suffraga- tione, ad honores. ' Persons of high birth oftener resort to their ancestors as a means of escaping punishment than as a recommendation to high posts' 'Tanta solet esse industria liominum novorum, ut nobiles pi-aj illis tanquani statute videantur. 'Such is the activity of upstarts that men of high birth seem statues in coin- pariso7i.' 'Nobiles in stadio respectant uimis ssepe ; quod mali cursoris est. ' In running their race, men of birth look back too often, which is the mark of a bad runner.' 'Reason. Reasonable ; right. See page 104. ' Stay. Check ; cessation of progress. See page 124. 'Motions. Liternal action ; feelings ; impulses. 'The motions of sin, which were by the law.' — Eomaus vil 5. 136 Of NoUUty. [Essay xiv. ANNOTATIONS. * We will speak of nobility first as apoiiion of an estate.^ In reference to nobility as an institution, it is important to remark how great a difference it makes whether the Order of nobles shall include — as in Germany and most other countries — all the descendants of noble families, or, as in ours, only the eldest; the rest sinking down into commoners. The former system is very bad, dividing society into distinct castes, almost like those of the Hindus. Ou7' system, through the numerous younger branches of noble families, shades off, as it were, the distinction between noble and not-noble, and keeps up the con- tinuity of the whole frame. ' As for nobility in jparticular jpersons^ In reference to nobility in individuals, nothing was ever better said than by Bishop Warburton — as is reported — in the House of Lords, on the occasion of some angry dispute which had arisen, between a peer of noble family and one of a new creation. He said that, 'high birth was a thing which he never knew any one disparage, except those who had it not ; and he never knew any one make a boast of it wdio had anything else to be proud of.' This is worthy of a place among Bacon's ''Pros and Consul though standing half-w\ay between the two : ' Nobi- litatem nemo contemnit, nisi qui abest; nemo jactitat, nisi cui nihil aliud est quo glorietur.' It is curious to observe, however, that a man of high family will often look down on an upstart who is exactly such a person in point of merit and achievements as the very founder of his own family ; — the one from whom his nobility is derived : as if it were more creditable to be the remote descendant of an eminent man, than to be that veiy man oneself. It is also a remarkable circumstance that noble birth is re- garded very much according to the etymology of the word, from ' nosco :' for, a man's descent from any one who was much Essay xiv.] Annotations, 137 Tcnown, is mucli more thought of than the moral worth of his ancestors. And it is curions that a person of so exceptionable a character, that no one would like to have had him for 'A father. may confer a kind of dignity on his great-great-great-grand children. An instance has been known of persons, who were the descendants of a celebrated and prominent character in the Civil War, and who was one of the Regicides, being themselves zealous royalists, and professing to be ashamed of their ancestor. And it is likely that if he were now living, they would renounce all intercourse with him. Yet it may be doubted whether they would not feel mortified if any one should prove to them tliat they had been under a mistake, and that they were in leality descended from another person, a respectable but obscure indi- vidual, not at all akin to the celebrated regicide. It was a remark by a celebrated man, himself a gentleman born, but with nothing of nobility, that the difference between a man with a long line of noble ancestors, and an upstart, is that 'the one knows for certain, what the other only conjectures as highly probable, that several of his forefathers deserved hanging.' Yet it is certain, though strange, that generally speaking, the supi^osed upstart would rather have this very thing a certainty — provided there were some great and cele- brated exploit in question — than left to conjecture. If he were to discover that he could trace up his descent distinctly to a man, who had deserved hanging, for robbing — not a tra- veller of his purse, but a king of his emjDire, or a neighbouring State of a province, — he would be likely to make no secret of it, and even to be better pleased, inwardly, than if he had made out a long line of ancestors who had been veiy honest farmers. Tlie happiest lot for a man, as far as birth is concerned, is that it should be such as to give him hut little occasion ever to thinh much about it', which will be the case, if it be neither too high nor too low for his existing situation. Those who have sunk much below, or risen much above, what suits their birth, are apt to be uneasy, and consequently touchy. The one feels ashamed of his situation; the other of his ancestors and otlier relatives. A nobleman's or gentleman's son, or grandson, feels degraded by waiting at table, or behind a counter ; and a member of a liberal profession is apt to be ashamed of his father's having done so ; and both are apt to take ofience readily, 138 Of Nobility. [Essay xiv. unless they are of a truly magnanimous character. It was remarked by a celebrated person, a man of a gentleman's family, and himself a gentleman by station, 'I have often thought that if I had risen like A. B., from the very lowest of the people, by my own honourable exertions, I should have rather felt proud of so great a feat, than like him, sore and touchy ; but I suppose I must be mistaken ; for I observe that the far greater part of those who are so cii'cumstanced, have just the opposite feeling.' The characters, however, of true inward nobility are ashamed of nothing but base conduct, and are not ready to take offence at supposed affronts ; because they keep clear of whatever desemes contempt, and consider what is undeserved as beneath their notice. ESSAY XV. OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. OHEPIIERDS of people had need know the calendars of '^ tempests in State, which are commonly greatest when things grow to equality, as natural tempests about the equinoctia ;' and as there are certain hollow blasts of wind and secret swellings of seas before a tempest, so are there in States : — ' Ille etiam cameos instare tumultus Sffipe monet, fraudesque et ojierta tumescere bella.'' Libels and licentious discourses against the State, when they are frequent and open ; and in like sort, false news often running up and down to the disadvantage of the State, and hastily em- braced, are amongst the signs of troubles. Virgil, giving the pedigree of fame, saitli, she was sister to the giants : — ' Illam terra parens, ira irritata deorum, Extremara (ut perliibent) Ca3o Enceladoque sororem Progenuit." As if ftimes* were the relics of seditions past ; but they are no less indeed the preludes of seditions to come. Howsoever, he noted it right, that seditious tumults and seditious fames differ no more but as brother and sister, masculine and feminine — especially if it come to that, that the best actions of a State, and the most plausible^ and which ought to give greatest contentment, are taken m ill sense, and traduced ; for that shows the envy great, as Tacitus saith, ' Conflata magna invidia, sen bene, sen nude, gesta premunt." Neither doth it follow, that because these fames are a sign of troubles, that the sup- pressing of them with too much severity should be a remedy of troubles; for the despising of them many times checks ' Equinoctia. Equinoxes. " ' He often warns of dark fast-coming tumults, hidden fraud, and open warfare, swelling proud.' — Virgil, Gewg. i. 465. ' Virg. En. iv. 179. ' Enraged against the Gods, revengeful Earth Produced her, last of the Titanian birth.' — Dryckn. * Fames. Reports ; fumours. ' The /a?»e thereof was heard in Pharaoh's house, sajnng, Joseph's brethren are come.' — Genesis xlv. 16. * Plausible. Laudable; deserving of applause. See page 94. * ' Great envy being excited, they condemn acts, whether good or bad.' (Quoted probably from memory.) — Tac. Hist. i. 7. 140 Of Seditions and Troubles. [Essay xv. them best, and the going about .to stop them doth but make a wonder long-Kved.' Also that land of obedience, which Tacitus speaketh of, is to be held suspected : ' Errant in officio, sed tamen qui mallent mandata imperantium interpretari, quam exequi ;'^ disputing, excusing, cavilling upon mandates and directions, is a kind of shaking otf the yoke, and assay' of dis- obedience : especially if in those disputings they which are for the direction speak fearfully and tenderly, and those that are against it, audaciously. Also, as Machiavel noteth well, when princes, that ought to he common* parents, make themselves as a party, and lean to a side, that is, as a boat that is overthrown by uneven weight on the one side — as was well seen in the time of Henry III. of France ; for, first himself entered league for the extirpation of the Protestants, and presently after the same league was turned upon himself; for when the authority of princes is made but an accessory to a cause, and that there be other bands that tie faster than the band of sovereignty, kings begin to be put almost out of possession. Also, when discords, and quarrels, and factions, are carried openly and audaciously ; it is a sign the reverence of govern- ment is lost; for the motions of the greatest persons in a government ought to be as the motions of the planets under primuni mobile^ (according to the old opinion,) which is, that every of them° is carried swiftly by the highest motion, and softly in their own motion ; and, therefore, when great ones in their own particular motion move violently, and, as Tacitus ex- presseth it well, 'Liberius quam ut imperantium meminissent" ' There is a law in our Statute Book against ' Slanderous Reports and Tales to cause Discord between King and People.' — Anno 5 Edward I., Westvibister Primer, c. xxxi. ' '"Thej' were in attendance on their duties, yet preferred putting their own con- struction on the commands of their rulers to executing them.' — Tacit. HiHt. i. 39. ' Assay. T}ie first attempt, or taste, by way of trial. ' For well he weened that so glorious bait Would tempt his guest to make thereof assay.' — Spenser. * Common. Serving for all. ' The Book of Co?A!/MOJi Praj'er. ^ Primum mobile, in the astronomical language of Bacon's time, meant a body drawing all others into its own sphere. * Every of them. Uach of them ; every one of them. 'And it came to pass in every of them.' — Apocrypha, 2 Esdras iii. 10. ' ' More freely than is consistent with remembering the rulers.' Essay xv.J Of Seditions and Troubles, 141 — it is a sign the orbs are out of frame. , for reverence is that whereAnth princes are girt from God, who threatenetli the dis- solving thereof ; ' Solvam cinguhi regnm." So when any of the four pillars of government are mainly shaken, or weakened (which are religion, justice, counsel, and treasure,) men had need to pray for fair weather. But let us pass from this part of predictions (concerning which, neverthe- less, more light may be taken from that which followeth,) and let us speak first of the materials of seditions, then of the motives of them, and thirdly of the remedies. Concerning the materials of seditions, it is a thing well to be considered — for the sm-est way to prevent seditions (if the times do bear it,) is to take away the matter of them ; for if there be fuel prepared, it is hard to tell whence the spark shall come that shall set it on tire. Tlie matter of seditions is of two kinds, much poverty, and much discontentment. It is certain, so many overthrown estates, so many votes for troubles. Lucan notetli well the state of Rome before the civil war : — • ' Hinc usiira vorax, rapidumque in tempore foenus, Hiuc concussa fides, ct multis utile bellum.'^ This same 'multis utile bellum,' is an assured and infallible sign of a State disposed to seditions and troubles ; and if this poverty and broken estate^ in the better sort be joined with a want and necessity in the mean people, the danger is imminent and great — for the rebellions of the belly are the worst. As for discontentments, they are in the politic body like to humours in the natural, which are apt to gather a preternatural heat, and to inflame ; and let no prince measure the danger of them by this, whether they be just or unjust — for that were to imagine people to be too reasonable, who do often spurn at their own good, — nor yet by this, whether the grietV whereupon they rise be in fact great or small ; for they are the most dangerous dis- contentments, where the fear is greater than the feeling : ' ' I will loose the bond of kings.' — Job xii. 18. "^ ' Hence usury voracious, and eager for the time of interest ; hence broken faith, and war become useful to many.' — Lucan, Phars. i. 181. ^ Estate. Condition ; circumntances. ' All who are any ways afflicted or dis- tressed in mind, body, or estate.' — English Liturgy {Prayer for all Conditions of Men.) * Griefs. Grievances. 'The king hath sent to know the nature of yonr griefs.' — Shakespere. 142 Of Seditions and TrouUes. [Essay xv. ' Dolendi modus, timendi non item" — besides, in great oppres- sions, the same things that provoke the patience do witlial mate" the courage ; but in fears it is not so — neither let any prince or State, be secure concerning discontentments, because they have been often, or have been long, and yet no peril hath ensued — for as it is true that every vapour or fume^ doth not turn into a storm, so it is nevertheless true, that storms, though they blow over divers times, yet may fall at last ; and, as the Spanish proverb noteth well, ' The cord breaketh at the last by the weakest pull.' The causes and motives of seditions are, innovations in reli- gion, taxes, alteration of laws and customs, breaking of privi- leges, general oppression, advancement of unworthy persons, strangers, deaths, disbanded soldiers, factions grown desperate ; and whatsoever in oif ending people joineth and knitteth them in a common cause. For the remedies, there may be some general preservatives, whereof we will speak : as for the just cure, it must answer to the particular disease, and so be left to counsel rather than rule. The first remedy or prevention, is to remove, by all means possible, that material cause of sedition whereof we speak, which is, want and poverty in the estate ;' to which purpose serveth the opening and well-balancing of trade ; the cherishing of manufactures ; the banishing of idleness ; the repressing of waste and excess by sumptuary laws ; the improvement and husbanding of the soil ; the i-egulating of prices of things ven- dible ; the moderating of taxes and tributes ; and the like. Generally, it is to be foreseen that the population of a kingdom (especially if it be not mown down by wars), do not exceed the stock of the kino-dom which should maintain them : neither is the population to be reckoned only by number, for a smaller number, that spend more and earn less, do wear out an estate sooner than a greater number that live low and gather jnore : therefore the multiplying of nobility, and other degrees of quality,^ in an over-proportion to the common people, doth ' There is a limit to the suffering, but none to the apprehension. ^ Mate. To subdue ; to quell. See page 15. ' Fume. An exhalation. 'That memory, the -warden of the brain, shall be a fume! — ShaTcespere, * Estate. State. See page 134. * Quality. Persons of superior rank. ' I will appear at the masquerade dressed Essay xv.] Of Seditions and Troubles. 143 speedily bring a State to necessity; and so dotli likewise an overgrown clergy, for they bring nothing to the stock ; and in like manner, when more are bred scholars than preferments can take oft'. It is likewise to be remembered, that, forasmuch as the in- crease of any estate must be npon the foreigner (for whatsoever is somewdiere gotten, is somewhere lost), there be but three things which one nation selleth unto another — the commodity as nature yicldeth it, the manufacture, and the vecture, or car- riage : so that, if these three wheels go, wealth will flow as in a spring tide. And it cometli many times to pass, that ' mate- riam superabit opus' — that ' the work and carriage is worth more than the material,' and enricheth a State more ; as is notably seen in the Low Countrymen, who have the best mines above ground in the world. Above all things, good policy is to be used, that the treasures and monies in a state be not gathered into few hands, for otherwise, a State may have a great stock, and yet starve ; and money is like muck, not good except it be spread. This is done chiefly by suppressing, or, at the least, keeping a strait hand upon the devouring trades of usury, engrossing' great pasturages and the like. For removing discontentments, or, at least, the danger of them, there is in every State (as we know), two portions of subjects, the nobles and the commonalty. When one of these is discontent, the danger is not great ; for common people are of slow^ motion, if they be not excited by the greater sort ; and the greater sort are of small strength, except the multitude be apt and ready to move of themselves : then is the danger, when the greater sort do but w^ait for the troubling of the w^aters in my feather, that the quality may see how pretty they will look iu their travel- ling habits.' — Addison. The common people still speak of the upper classes as ' the quality.' It is to be observed that almost all our titles of respect are terms denoting qnalities. ' Her Majesty,' ' his Highness,' ' his Excellency,' ' his Grace,' ' the Most Noble', ' the Honourable,' ' his Honour,' ' his Worship.' ' Engrossing. Forestalling. ' Engrossing was also described to be the getting into one's possession, or buying up large quantities of any kind of victuals, with intent to sell them again.' — Blackstone. ' What should ye do, then, should ye suppress all this ilowery crop of knowledge, and new light sprung up ? Should ye set an oligarchy of twenty engrossers over it, to bring a famine upon our minds ?' — Milton 144 Of Seditions and Troubles. [Essay xv, amongst tlie meaner, that tlien they may declare themselves. The poets feign that the rest of the gods would have bound Jupiter, which he hearing of, by the counsel of Pallas, sent for Briareus, with his hundred hands, to come in to his aid' — an emblem, no doubt, to show how safe it is for monarchs to make sure of the - good-will of common people. To give moderate liberty for griefs and discontentments to evaporate (so it be without too great insolency or bravery"), is a safe way ; for he that turnetli the humours back, and maketh the wound bleed inwards, endangereth malign ulcers and per- nicious imposthumations. The part of Epimetheus might well become Prometheus, in the case of discontentments ; for there is not a better provision against them. Epimetheus, when griefs and evils flew abroad, at last shut the lid, and kept hope in the bottom of the vessel. Certainly, the politic and artificial nourishing and entertaining of hopes, and carrying men from hopes to hopes, is one of the best antidotes against the poison of discontentments ; and it is a certain sign of a wise government and proceeding, when it can hold men's hearts by hopes, when it cannot by satisfaction ; and when it can handle things in such manner as no evil shall appear so peremptory but that it hath some outlet of hope : which is the less hard to do, because both particular persons and factions are apt enough to flatter themselves, or, at least, to brave' that which they believe not. Also the foresight and prevention, that there be no likely opj fit head whereupon discontented persons may resort, and under whom they may join, is a known, but an excellent point of caution. I understand a fit head to be one that hath greatness and reputation, that hath confidence with the discontented party, and upon whom they turn their eyes, and that is thought dis- contented in his own particular ; which kind of persons are either to be won and reconciled to the State, and that is a fast and true manner, or to be fronted with some other of the same party that may oppose them, and so divide the reputation. Generally, the dividing and breaking of all factions and com- binations that are adverse to the State, and setting them at i » Horn. 11. i. 398. » Bravery. See page 105. ^ Brave. To boast of. Essay xv.] Of Seditions and Troiibles. l-io distance/ or, at least, distrust among themselves, is not one of the worst remedies ; for it is a desperate case, if those that hold Math the proceeding of the State be full of discord and faction, and those that are against it be entire and united. I have noted, that some witty and sharp speeches, which have fallen from princes, have given fire to seditions. Caesar did himself infinite hurt in that speech, ' Sylla nescivit literas, non potuit dictare ;"^ for it did utterly cut oli* that hope which men had entertained, that he would at one time or other give over his dictatorship. Galba undid himself by that speech, ' Legi a se militem, non emi ;" for it put the soldiers out of hope of the donative. Probus, likewise, by that speech, ' Si vixero, non opus erit amplius Romano imperio militibus ;'* a speech of great despair for the soldiers ; and many tha like. Surely princes had need, in tender matter and ticklish times, <"■> beware what they say, especially in these short speeches, which fly abroad like darts, and are thought to be shot out of their secret intentions ; for, as for large discourses, they are flat things, and not so much noted. Lastly, let princes, against all events, not be without some great person, one or rather more, of military valour, near unto them, for the repressing of seditions in their beginnings ; for, without that, there useth to be more trepidation in court upon the first breaking out of trouble than were fit : and the State runneth the danger of tliat which Tacitus saitli — ' Atque is habitus animorum fuit, ut pessimum facinus auderent pauci, plures vellent, omnes paterentur ;" but let such military jjer- sons be assured" and well reputed of, rather than factious and ' Distance. Enmity. ' Banquo was yonr enemy, So is lie mine ; and in such bloody distance. That every minute of his being thrusts Against my near'st of life.' — Shakespere. 'Sylla was ignorant of letters, and could not dictate.' (Tliis pun is attributed to Cfcsar by Suetonius.) — Vit. C. Jid. Ccs. 77, 1. * ' rie levied soldiers, and did not buy them.' — Tac. Hist. i. 5. * ' If I live, the Roman Empire will need no more soldiers.' — Flav. Ves. Vit. Proh. 20. * 'And such was the state of their minds, that the worst villany a few dared, more approved of it, and all tolerated it.' — Hist. i. 28. " Assured. Not to be doubted ; trnst-u'oyth;/. ' It is an assured experience, tliat flint laid at the root of a tree will make it prosper.' — Bacon's Natural History, 10 146 Of Seditions and Trouhles. [Essay xv. popular — holding also good correspondence witli the other great men in the State, or else the remedy is worse than the disease. ANNOTATIONS. *" Neitlier let any prince or State he secure concerning discontent- ments, hecause they have heen often, or have heen long, and yet no jyeril hath ensued ' Men underrate the danger of any evil that has been escaped. An evil is not necessarily unreal, because it has been often feared v.^'thout just cause. The wolf does sometimes enter in, and make havoc of the flock, though there have been many false alarms. The consequence of feeling too secure, and not being prepared, may be most disastrous when the emergency does arise. The existence of the power to meet the emergency is not the less important because the occasions for the exercise of it may be very few. If any one should be so wearied with the monotonous ' All's well' of the nightly guardians of a camp, hour after hour, and night after night, as to conclude that their service was superfluous, and, accordingly, to dismiss them, how much real danger, and how much unnecessary apprehension, would be the result. ' Let no prince measure the danger of discontentments l>y this whether the griefs whe7'eupon tJiey rise he great or small ' The importance of this caution with regard to 'small griefs' will not be denied by any one who has observed the odd limitations of power in those who seem despotic, and yet cannot do what seem little things. E. g., when the Komans took posses- sion of Egypt, the people submitted, without the least resistance, to have their lives and property at the mercy of a foreign nation ; but one of the Roman soldiers happening to kill a cat in the streets of Alexandria, they rose on him and tore him limb from limb ; and the excitement was so violent, that the Essay xv.] Annotations. l-iT generals overlooked the outrage for fear of insurrection! — Claudius Csesar tried to introduce a letter which was wanting in the Eoman Alphabet — the consonant Y as distinct from U, — • they having but one character for both. He ordered that j (an F reversed) should be that character. It appears on some inscriptions in his time ; but he could not establish it, though he could KILL or plunder his suhjects at pleasure. So can the Emperor of Russia ; but he cannot change the style. It would displace the days of saints whom his people worship, and it would produce a formidable insurrection ! Other instances of this strange kind of anomaly might doubtless be produced. ' The causes and motives of seditions are . . , .' Amono;st the causes of sedition Bacon has not noticed what is, perhaps, the source of the most dangerous kinds of sedition, the keeping of a certain portion of the population in a state of helotism, — as subjects without being citizens, or only imperfectly and partially citizens. For men will better submit to an un- distinguishing despotism that bears down all classes alike, than to an invidious distinction drawn between privileged and sub- ject classes. On this point I will take the liberty of citing a passage from a former work : — ' The exclusion from the rights of citizenship of all except a certain favoured class — which was the system of the Grecian and other ancient republics — has been vindicated by their example, and recommended for general adoption, by some writers, who have proposed to make sameness of religion cor- respond in modern States to the sameness of race among the ancients, — to substitute for their hereditary citizenship the pro- fession of Christianity in one and the name National Church. ' But attentive and candid reflection will show that this would be the worst possible imitation of one of the worst of the Pagan institutions ; that it would be not only still more unwise than the unwise example proposed, but also even more opposite to the spirit of the Christian religion than to the maxims of ^ound policy. 'Of the system itself, under various modifications, and of its effects, under a variety of circumstances, we find abundant 148 Of Seditions and Troubles. [Essay xv. records tlironglioiit a large portion of history, ancient and modern; from that of the Israehtes when sojourners in Egypt, down to that of the Turkish Empire and its Greek and other christian subjects. And in those celebrated ancient republics of which we have such copious accounts in the classic writers, it is well known that a man's being born of free parents within the territory of a certain State, had nothing to do with confer- ring civil rights ; while his contributing towards the expenses of its government, was rather considered as the badge of an alien,' the imposing of a tax on tlie citizens being mentioned by Cicero^ as something calamitous and disgraceful, and not to be thought of but in some extraordinary emergency. 'Nor were the proportionate nxmibers at all taken into account. In Attica, the metoeci or sojourners appear to have constituted about a third of the free population ; but the helots in Lacedsemon, and the subjects of the Carthaginian and Koman Republics, outnumbered the citizens, in the proportion probably of five, and sometimes of ten or twenty to one. Nor again were alien families considered as such in reference to a more recent settlement in the territory ; on the contrary, they were often the ancient occupiers of the soil, who had been subdued by another race ; as the Siculi (from whom Sicily derived its name,) by the Siceliots or Greek colonists. 'The system in rpiestion has been explained and justified on the ground that distinctions of race implied important religious and moral differences ; such that the admixture of men thus differing in the main points of human life, would have tended, unless one race had a complete ascendancy, to confuse all no- tions of right and wrong. And the principle, accordingly, of 1 the ancient republics, — which has been thence commended as] wise and good — has been rejjresented as that of making agree- ment in religion and morals the test of citizenship. ' Tliat this however was not, at least in many instances, even] the professed principle, is undeniable. The Lacedsemoniansj reduced to helotism the Messenians, who were of Doric race,! like themselves ; while it appears from the best authorities, that] the kings of those very Lacedtemonians were of a different race] from the people, being not of Dorian, but of Achaian extrac- ' Matt. xvii. 25. "" Be Off. b. 11, ch. xxi. Essay xv.] Annotations. 149 tion.' Tliere could not have been therefore, at least universally, any such total incompatibility between the moral institutions and principles of the diiferent races. The vindication, there- fore, of the system utterly fails, even on the very grounds assumed by its advocates. 'If, however, in any instance such an incompatibility did exist, or (what is far more probable) such a mutual dislike and jealousy, originating in a narrow spirit of clanship — as to render apparently hopeless the complete amalgamation of tw^o tribes as fellow-citizens on equal terms, the wisest — the only wise — course would have been an entire separation. "Whether the one tribe migrated in a mass to settle elsewhere, or the terri- tory were divided between the two, so as to form distinct inde- pendent States, — in either mode, it w^ould have been better for both parties, than that one should remain tributary subjects of the other. Even the expulsion of the Moors and Jews fi'om Spain, was not, I am convinced, so great an evil, as it would have been to retain them as a degraded and tributary class ; like the Greek subjects of the Turkish empire. 'For, if there be any one truth which the deductions ot reason alone, independent of liistory, would lead us to antici- pate, and which again history alone would establish indepen- dently of antecedent reasoning, it is this : that a whole class of men })laced permanently under the ascendancy of another as subjects, without the rights of citizens, must be a source, at the best, of weakness, and generally of danger, to the State. They cannot well be expected, and have rarely been found, to evince much hearty patriotic feeling towards a community in which tlicirneiglibours looked down on them as an inferior and perma- nently degraded species. While kept in brutish ignorance, poverty, and weakness, they are likely to feel — like the ass in the fable — inditferent wdiose panniers they bear. If they in- crease in power, wealth, and mental development, they are likely to be ever on the watch for an opportunity of shaking off a degrading yoke. Even a complete general despotism, weigh- hig down all classes without exception, is, in general, far more It is very remarlcaLle that this fact has been adverted to, and prominently set forth by an author wlio, in the very mme ivork, maintains tlie impossibility of different raees beins; amalg'amated together in the same community. He appears to have quite forgotten that he had completely disproved his own theory. 150 Of Seditions and Troubles. [Essay xv. readily borne, than invidious distinctions drawn between a favoured and a depressed race of subjects ; for men feel an insult more than a mischief done to them ;^ and feel no insult so much as one daily and hourly inflicted by their immediate neighbours. A Persian subject of the Great King had probably no greater share of civil rights than a helot ; but he was likely to be less galled by his depression, from being surrounded by those who, though some of them possessed power and dignity, as com- pared with himself, yet were equally destitute of civil rights, and abject slaves, in common with him, of the one great despot. ' It is notorious, accordingly, how much Sparta was weakened and endangered by the helots, always ready to avail themselves of any public disaster as an occasion for revolt. The frightful expedient was resorted to of thinning their numbers from time to time by an organized system of massacre ; yet, though a great part of the territory held by Lacedcemon was left a desert," security could not be purchased, even at this price. ' We find Hannibal, again, maintaining himself for sixteen years in Italy against the Komans ; and though scantily sup- plied from Carthage, recruiting his ranks, and maintaining his positions, by the aid of Roman subjects. Indeed, almost every page of history teaches the same lesson, and jjroclaims in every diti'erent form, ' Hoav long shall these men be a snare unto us ? Let the people go, that they may serve their God : knowest thou not yet that Egypt is destroyed?" ' The remnant of these nations which thou shalt not drive out, shall be pricks in thine eyes, and thorns in thy side.'* ' But beside the other causes which have always operated to perpetuate, in spite of experience, so impolitic a system, the difficulty of changing it, when once established, is one of the greatest. The false step is one which it is peculiarly diificuU to retrace. Men long debarred from civil rights, almost always become ill fitted to enjoy them. The brutalizing eftects of oppression, which cannot immediately be done away by its removal, at once furnish a pretext for justifying it, and make relief hazardous. Kind and liberal treatment, if very cautiously ' 'AihKovfievoc, (Jf loLKev, ol uvOpunot, [xaTJiOV opyii^ovTai, ?/ fSia^ufxevoL.— Thiccyd. b. i. § 77. * IVuicyd. b. iv. ^ Exodus x. 7. * Numbers xxxiiL 55. Essaj XV.] Amiotatioiis. 151 and j iidiciously bestowed, will gradually and slowly advance inen towards the condition of being worthy of such treatment ; but treat men as aliens or enemies — as slaves, as cliildren,or as brutes, and the J will sjKedily and coinpletely jnstii'j your conduct." ' 7o which ])UT])os& {the removing of sedition) sermth the rejjressing of waste and excess hy suinptuary laws .... the regidating of prices of things vendible ' Bacon here falls into the error which always prevails in the earlier stages of civilization, and wdiicli accordingly was more prevalent in his age than in ours — that of over-governing. It may be reckoned a kind of puerility : for you will generally find young persons prone to it, and also those legislators who lived in the younger (i. e. the earlier) ages of the world. They naturally wish to enforce by law everything that they consider to be good, and forcibly to prevent men from doing anything that is unadvisable. And the amount of mischief is incal- culable that has been caused by this meddlesome kind of legislation. For not only have such legislators been, as often as not, mistaken, as to what really is beneficial or hurtful, but also wdien they have been right in their judgment on that point, they have often done more harm than good by attempting to enforce by law what had better be left to each man's own discretion. As an example of the first kind of error, may be taken the many efiForts made by the legislators of various countries to restrict foreign commerce, on the supposition that it would be advantageous to supply all our wants ourselves, and that we must be losers by purchasing anything from abroad. If a weaver were to spend half his time in attempting to make shoes and furniture for himself, or a shoemaker to neglect his trade while endeavouring to raise corn for his own consumption, they would be guilty of. no greater folly than has often been, and in many instances still is, forced on many nations by their governments ; which have endeavoured to withdraw from agri- ' JEssm/ on soint of the Dangers to the Cliristian Faith. 2nd edition, note F, pp. 212-217. 152 Of Seditions and Troiibles. [Essay xv. culture to manufactures a people possessing abundance of fer- tile land, or avIio have forced tliem to the home cultivation of such articles as their soil and climate are not suited to, and thus compelled tliem to supply themselves with an inferior com- modity at a greater cost. On the other hand, there is no doubt that early hours are healthful, and that men ought not to squander their money on luxurious feasts and costly dress, unsuited to their means ; but when governments thereupon undertook to prescribe the liours at which men should go to rest, requiring them to put out their lights at the sound of the curfew-bell, and enacted sumptuary laws as to the garments they were to wear, and the dishes of meat they were to have at their tables, this meddling kind of legislation was always found excessively galling, and moreover entirely ineifectual ; since men's dislike to such laws always produced contrivances for evading the spirit of them. Bacon, however, was far from always seeing his way rightly in these questions ; which is certainly not to be wondered at, considering that we, who live three centuries later, have only just emerged from thiclv darkness into twilight, and are far from having yet completely thrown off those erroneous notions of our forefathers. The regulating of prices by law still existed, in the memory of most of us, with respect to bread — and the error of legislating against engrossing of commodities has only very lately been exploded. Many restrictions, of various kinds, have been maintained by persons who probably would not themselves have introduced them, but who have an over-dread of innovation ; urging that the burden of proof lies on those who advocate any change ; the 'preswnjption being on the side of leaving things unaltered. And as a general rule this is true. But in the case of any restriction^ the presumption is the other way. For since no restriction is a good in itself, the burden of proof lies on those who would either introduce or continue it. ' Whatsoever is somewhere gotten is somewhere losf This error — and it is a very hurtful one — was not exploded till long after Bacon's time. The following extract from the Annual Register for 1779, (Appendix, p. 114,) may serve to Essay xv.] Amiotations. 153 sliow what absurd notions on political economy were afloat even in the memory of persons now living. The extract is from a 'Plan by Dr. Franklin and Mr. Dairy mple for beuctiting distant Countries.' ^ Fair covitnerce is, wdiere equal values are exchanged for equal, the expense of transport included. Thus, if it costs A in England as much labour and charge to raise a bushel of wheat, as it costs B in France to produce four gallons of wane, then are four gallons of wine the fair exchange for a bushel of wheat, A and B meeting at half distance with their commodities to make the exchange. The advantage of this fair commerce is, that each party increases the number of his enjoyments, having, instead of wdieat alone, or wine alone, the use of both wheat and wine. 'Where the labour and expense of producing both com- modities are known to both parties, bargains will generally be fair and equal. Where they are known to one party only, bargains will often be unequal, — knowledge taking its advan- tage of ignorance. ' Thus, he that carries a thousand bushels of wheat abroad to sell, may not probably obtain so great a profit thereon as if he had first turned the wheat into manufactures, by subsisting therewith the workmen while producing those manufactures. Since there are many expediting and facilitating methods of working, not generally known ; and strangers to the manu- factures, though they know pretty well the expense of raising wheat, are unacquainted with those short methods of working, and thence being apt to suppose more labour employed in the manufactures than there really is, are more easily imposed on in their value, and induced to allow more for them than they are honestly worth. Thus, the advantage of having manufac- tures in a country, does not consist, as is commonly supposed, in their highly advancing the value of rough materials of which they are formed: since though six pennyworths of flax may be worth tw^enty shillings when worked into lace, yet the very cause of its being worth twenty shillings is, that, besides the flax, it has cost nineteen shillings and sixpence in subsistence to the manufacturer. But the advantao;e of manufactures is, that under their shape provisions may be more easily carried to a foreign market ; and by their means our traders may more easily cheat strangers. Few, where it is not made, are judges of the value of lace. The importer may demand foi-ty, and 15 J: __ Of Sed'dio)is and Trouhles. [Essay xv. perhaps get tliirty shillings, for that which cost him hut twenty. Finally, there seem to he but three ways for a nation to acquire wealth. The first is by war^ as the Romans did, in plundering their conquered neighbours. This is robbery. The second by commerce^ which is generally cheating. The third is by agriculture., the only honest way., wherein man receives a real increase of the seed sown in the ground, in a kind of con- tinual miracle wrought by the hand of God in his favour, as a reward for his innocent life and his virtuous industry,' The reader will observe that in this disquisition, labour is made the sole measure of value, without any regard to the questions, whose labour? or how directed? and, with what residts f On this principle, therefore, if a Raphael takes only as much time and trouble in making a fine picture, as a shoe- maker in making a j)air of boots, he is a cheat if he receives more for his picture than the other for the boots ! And if it costs the same labour to produce a cask of ordinary Cape-wine, and one of Constantia, they ought in justice to sell for the same price ! Thus, our notions of morality, as well as of political economy, are thrown into disorder. Yet such nonsense as this passed current in the days of our fathers. And it is only in our own days that people have been permitted to buy food where they could get it cheapest. ' There useth to he more trepidation in court ujpon the first breaking out of troubles than were fit . . . .' To expect to tranquillize and benefit a country by gratifying its agitators, would be like the practice of the superstitious of old with their sympathetic powders and ointments ; who, instead of applying medicaments to the wound, contented themselves with salving the sword which had inflicted it. Since the days of Dane-gelt downwards, nay, since the world was created, nothing but evil has resulted from concessions made to intimi- dation. ESSAY XVI. OF ATHEISM, I HAD rather believe all the fables in the Legend, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that this universal frame is without a mind ; and, therefore, God never wrought miracles to- convmie atlieism, because his ordmary works convmce it. It is true, that a little philosophy inclineth Man's mind to atheism, but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion ; for while the mind of Man looketh upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them, and go no farther ; but when it beholdeth the chain of them confederate, and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity ; nay, even that school which is most accused of atheism, doth most demonstrate religion ; tliat is, the school of Leucippus, and Democritus, and Epicurus — for it is a thousand times more credible, that four mutable elements and one immutable fifth essence, duly and eternally placed, need no God, than that an army of infinite small portions, or seeds unplaced, should have produced this order and beauty without a divine marshal. The Scripture saith, ' The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God ;'^ it is not said, ' The fool hath thought in his heart ; so as^ he rather saith it by rote to himself, as tiiat^ he would liave, than that he can thorouglily believe it, or be persuaded of it ; for none deny there is a God, but those for whom it maketli^ that there were no God, It appeareth in nothing more that atlieism is ratlier in the lip than in the heart of Man, thi^n by this, tliat atheists will ever be talking of that their opinion, as if they fainted in it themselves, and would be glad to be strengthened by the consent°^of others ; nay, more, you shall have atheists strive to get disciples, as it fareth with other sects ; and, which is most of all, you shall have them that will suffer for atheism, and ' Convince. Convict ; prove guiltri. ' To convince all that are ungodly among them of all their ungodly deeds.' — Epistle of Jude. " Pmlm xiv. 1. ' As. TJiat. See page 23. * That. What. See page 12. * For whom it maketh. To whom it would be advantagemis. 'Consent. Agreement in opinion. ' Socrates, by the consent of all excellent writers that followed him, was approved to be the wisest man of all Greece.' — Sir J. Elyot. 156 Of Atheism. [Essay xvi. not recant: whereas, if tliey did truly tbink that there were no such thing as God, why should they trouble themselves? ■ Epicurus is charged, that he did but dissemble for his credit's sake, when he affirmed there were blest natures, but such as enjoy themselves without having respect to the government of the world, wherein they say he did temporize, though in secret he thought there was no God ; but certainly he is tra- duced, for his words are noble and divine; 'Non deos vulgi negare profanum : sed vulgi opiniones, diis applicare profanum," Plato could have said no more ; and although he had the confidence" to deny the administration, he had not the power to deny the nature. The Indians of the West have names for their particular gods, though they have no name for God ; as if the heathens should have had the names Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, &c., but not the word Deus: which shows, that even those bar- barous people have the notion, though they have not the lati- tude and extent of it ; so that against atheists the very savages take part with the very subtilest philosophers. The contem- plative atheist is rare — a Diagoras, a Bion, a Lucian, perhaps, and some others : and yet they seem to be more than they are, for that all that impugn a received religion, or superstition, are, by the adverse part, branded with tlie name of atheists ; but the great atheists indeed are hypocrites, which are ever han'dling holy things, but without feeling, so as they must needs be cau- terized in the end. The causes of atheism Jire, divisions in religion if there be many ; for any one main division addetli zeal to botli sides, but many divisions introduce atheism : another is, scandal of priests, when it is come to that which St. Bernard saith, 'Non est jam dicere, ut populus, sic sacerdos ; quia nee sic populus, ut sacerdos." A third is, a custom of profane scoffing in holy matters, which doth by little and little deface the reverence of religion : and lastly, learned times, especially with peace and prosperity ; for troubles and adversities do more bow men's minds to religion. They that deny a God destroy a man's ' 'It is not profane to deny the gods of the common people, but it is profone to apply to the gods the notions of the common people.' — Biog. Laert. x. 123. ^ Confidence. Boldness. ^ ' It is not now to be said, As the people, so the priest; because the people are not such as the priests are.' Essay x^ i.] Annotations. 157 nobility, for certainly Man is of kin to the beasts by liis body ; and if lie be not of kin to God "by his spirit, he is a base and ignoble creature. It destroys likewise magnanimity, and the raising human nature ; for take an example of a dog, and mark what a generosity and courage he will put on when he finds himself maintained by a man, who to him is instead of a God, or tnelior naturcC — "svliich courage is manifestly such as that creature, without that confidence^ of a better nature than his own, could never attain. So man, when he resteth and assureth himself upon divine protection and favour, gathereth a force and faith which human nature in itself could not obtain ; therefore, as atheism is in all respects hateful, so in this, that it depriveth human nature of the means to exalt itself above human frailty. As it is in particular persons, so it is in nations : — never was there such a state for magnanimity as Rome. Of this state hear what Cicero saith : ' Quam volumus, licet, patres conscript!, nos amenus, tamen nee numero Hispanos, nee robore Gallos, nee calliditate Poenos, nee artibus Grsecos, nee denique hoc ipso hujus gentis et terrse domestico nativoque sensu Italos ipsos et Latinos ; sed pietate, ac religione, atque hac una sapientia, quod deorum immortalium numine omnia regi, gubernarique per- speximus, omnes gentes nationesque superavimus." ANNOTATIONS. * Ihadrather believe all thefaMes in the Legend^ andthe Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that this tmiversal frame is tvithoict a mind.'' It is evident from this, that Bacon had seized the just view respecting credulity / seeing plainly that ' to 6?^sbelieve is to ' A better nature. ^ Confidence. Firm belief. ' Society is built upon trust, and trust upon co7iJi- dence of one another's integrity.' — South. ' ' Let us be as partial to ourselves as we will, Conscript Fathers, yet we have not surpassed the Spaniards in number, nor the Gauls in strength, nor the Cartha- ginians in cunning, nor the Greeks in the arts, nor, lastly, the Latins and Italians of this nation and land, in natural intelligence about home-matters; but we have excelled all nations and people in piety and religion, and in this one wisdom of fully recognising that all things are ordered and governed by the power of the immortal gods.' — Cic. De Har. Eesp. 9. 158 Of Atheism. [Essay xvi. believe.' If one man believes that there is a God, and another that there is no God, whichever holds the less reasonable of these two opinions is chargeable with crednlity. For, the only way to avoid credulity and incrednlity — the two necessarily going together — ^is to listen to, and yield to, the best evidence, and to believe and disbelieve on good grounds. And however imperfectly and indistinctly we may under- stand the attributes of God — of the Eternal Being who made and who governs all things — the ' mind of this universal frame,' the proof of the existence of a Being possessed of them is most clear and full ; being, in fact, the very same evi- dence on which w^e believe in the existence of one another. How do we know that men exist ? (that is, not merely Beings having a certain visible bodily form — for that is not what we chiefly imply by the w^ord Man, — but rational agents, such as we call- men). Surely not by the immediate evidence of our senses, (since mind is not an object of sight), but by observing the things ])erformed — the manifest result of rational contrivance. If w^e land in a strange country, doubting whether it be in- habited, as soon as we find, for instance, a boat, or a house, we are as perfectly certain that a man has been there, as if he had appeared before our eyes. Yet the atheist believes that ' this universal frame is without a mind ;' that it was the produc- tion of chance ; that the particles of matter of which the world consists, moved about at random, and accidentally fell into the shape it now bears. Surely the atheist has little reason to make a boast of his ' incredulity,' while believing anything so strange and absurd as that ' an army of infinitely small portions or seeds unplaced, should have produced this order and beauty without a divine marshal.' In that phenomenon in language, that both in the Greek and Latin, nouns of the neuter gender, denoting things, invariably had the nominative and the accusative the same, or rather, had an accusative only, employed as a nominative when required, — may there not be traced an indistinct consciousness of the persuasion that a mere thing is not capable of being an agent, which a person only can really be ; and that the possession of power, strictly so called, by physical causes,' is not conceivable, or their capacity to maintain, any more than to produce at first, the system of the Universe ? — whose continued existence, as Essay xvi. Annotations. 159 \rell as its origin, seems to depend on the continued operation of the great Creator. May there not be in this an admission that the hiws of nature presuppose an agent, and are incapable of being tlie cause of their own observance ? ' Epicurus is charged .^ that he did hut dissemble for his credifs saTce^ when lie ojjirmed there were Messed natures wherein they say he did hut tem'porize, though in secret he thought there was no God. Bid certainly he is traduced^ It is remarkable that Bacon, like many others very con- versant with ancient Mythology, failed to perceive that the pagan nations were in reality atheists. They mistake altogether the real character of the pagan religions.' Tliey imagine that all men, in every age and country, had always designed to worship one Supreme God, the Maker of all things f and that the error of the Pagans consisted merely in the false accounts they gave of Him, and in their worshipping other inferior gods besides. But this is altogether a mistake. Bacon was, in this, misled by words, as so many have been, — the very delusion he so earnestly warns men against. The j)agans used the word ' God ;' but in a different sense from us. For by the word God, we understand an Eternal Being, who made and who governs all things. And if any one should deny that there is any such Being, we should say that he was an atheist ; even though he might believe that there do exist Beings superior to Man, such * See Lessons on Religious Worship, L. ii. " See Pope's Universal Prayer : — 'Father of all, in every age, In every clime adored ; By saint, by savage, and by sage, Jehovali, Jove, or Lord.' See also Howe's Tragedy of Tainerlane, Act 3, So. ii: — ' Look round how Providence bestows alike Sunshine and rain to bless tlie fruitful year. On different nations, all of different faitlis; And (tlio' by several names and titles worshipp'd) Heaven takes the various tribute of their praise ; Since all agree to own, at least to mean, One -best, one greatest, onlj' Lord of all. Thus when he viewed the many forms of Nature He said that all was good, and bless'd the fair variety. ICO Of Atheism. [Essay xvi. as the Fairies and Genii, in whom the uneducated in many parts of Europe still believe. Accordingly, the apostle Paul {Ephes. ii. 12) expi-essly calls the ancient Pagans atheists {ddeoi)^ though he well knew that they worshipped certain su23posed superior Beings which they called gods. But he says in the Epistle to tlie Romans that ' they worshipped the creatui-e more than' (that is, instead of) the Creator.' And at Lystra {^Acts xiv. 15), when the people were going to do sacrifice to him and Barnabas, mistaking them for two of their gods, he told them to ' turn from those vanities, to serve the living God who made heaven and earth!' This is what is declared in the first sentence of the BooJi of Genesis. And so far were the ancient Pagans from believing that ' in the beginning Grod made the heavens and the earth,' that, on the contrary, the heavens, and the earth, and the sea, and many other natural objects, were among the very gods they adored. They did, indeed, believe such extravagant fables as Bacon alludes to, and which he declares to be less incredible than that ' this miiversal frame is without a mind ;' and yet, they did also believe that it is without a mind ; that is, without what he evidently means by ' a mind' — an eternal, intelligent Maker and Ruler. Most men would understand by ' an atheist' one who disbelieves the existence of any such personal agent; though believing (as every one must) that there is some kind of cause for everything that takes place. It may be added, that, as the pagan-worship has been gene- rally of evil Beings," so, the religions have been usually of a corresponding character. We read of the ancient Canaanites that ' every abomiruition which the Lord hateth, have these nations done, unto their gods! And among the Hindus, the foulest impurities, and the most revolting cruelties, are not merely permitted by their religion, but are a part of their worship. Yet one may hear it said, not unfrequently, that ' any religion is better than none.' And a celebrated writer, in an article in a Beview (afterwards published by himself), deriding the attempt to convert the Hindus, represents their religion as being (though absurd) on the whole beneficial ; ' Ilapu Tov KTioavra. See Lesso7is on Religious Worship, L. ii. Essay xvi.] Annotations. 101 because 'it is Letter that a man should look for rcAvard or punishment from a deity with a liundred arms, than that he should look for none at all.' But he forgot to take into ac- count the question, 'rewarded or punished for wuat ?' The hundred-armed deity makes it an unpardonable sin to put into the mouth a cartridge greased with beef-fat, but a mei'iloi-ious act to slaughter, with circumstances of unspeakable horror, men, women, and cliildren, of Christians ! ' A custom of jyrofane scoffing in holy matters.^ Li reference to ' the profane scoffing in holy matters,' it is to be observed that jests on sacred subjects are, when men are so disposed, the most easily produced of any ; because the contrast betw-een the dignilied and a low image, exhibited in combination (in which the wdiole force of the ludicrous consists,) is, in this case, the most striking. It is commonly said, that there is no wit in profane jests ; but it would be hard to frame any definition of wit that should exclude them. It would be more correct to say (and I really believe that is what is really meant) that the practice displays no gYQ&i j)owers of wit because the subject matter renders it so particularly easy ; and that (for the very same reason) it affords the least gratification (apart from all higher considerations) to judges of good taste ; since a great part of the pleasure afforded by wit results from 2^ ])erce])tion of skill displayed and difficulty surmounted. We have said, apart from all higher considerations; for surely there is something very shocking to a well-disposed mind in such jests, as those, for instance, so frecpiently heard, in con- nexion with Satan and. his agency. Suppose a rational Being — an inhabitant of some other planet — could visit this, our earth, and witness the gaiety of heart with wdiich Satan, and his agents, and his victims, and the dreadful doom reserved for them, and everything relating to the subject, are, by many persons, talked of and laughed at, and resorted to as a source of amusement ; what inference would he be likely to draw ? Doubtless he would, at first, conclude that no one believed anything of all this, but that we regarded the whole as a string of fables, like the heathen mythology, or the nursery tales of fairies and enchanters, which ai'e told to amuse children. But when he came to learn that these things are not only true^ but 11 162 Of Atheism. [Essay xvi. are actually believed by tlie far greater part of those who, nevertheless, treat them as a subject of mirth, what would he think of us then? He would surely regard this as a most astounding proof of the great art, and of the great influence of that Evil Being who can have so far blinded men's under- standings, and so depraved their moral sentiments, and so hardened their hearts, as to lead them, not merely to regard with careless apathy their spiritual enemy, and the dangers they are exposed to from him, and the final ruin of his victims, but even to find amusement in a subject of such surpassing horror, and to introduce allusions to it by way of a jest! Surely, generally speaking, right-minded persons are accustomed to regard wickedness and misery as most unfit subjects for jesting. They would be shocked at any one who should find amusement in the ravages and slaughter perpetrated by a licentious soldiery in a conquered country; or in the lingering tortures inflicted . by wild Indians on their prisoners ; or in the burning of heretics under the Inquisition, Nay, the very Inquisitors themselves, who have thought it their duty to practise such cruelties, would have been ashamed to be thought so brutal as to regard the suficrings of their victims as a subject of mirth. And any one who should treat as a jest the crimes and cruelties of the French Revolution, would generally be deemed more depraved than even the perpetrators themselves. It is, however, to be observed, that we are not to be offended as if sacred matters were laughed at, when some folly that has \)QQ\\ forced into connexion with them is exposed. When things really ridiculous are mixed -up with religion, who is to be blamed ? Not he who shows that they are ridiculous, and no parts of religion, but those who disfigure truth by blending falsehood with it. It is true, indeed, that to attack even error in religion with mere ridicule is no wise act ; because good things may be ridiculed as well as bad. But it surely cannot be our duty to abstain from showing plainly that absurd things are absurd, merely because people cannot help smiling at them. A tree is not injured by being cleared of moss and lichens ; nor truth, by having folly or sophistry torn away from around it. It is a good plan, with a young person of a character to be much affected by ludicrous and absurd representations, to show him plainly, by examples, that there is nothing which may Essay xvi.] Annotations. 163 not be so represented ; lie will hardly need to be told tliat everything is not a mere joke : and he may thus be secured from falling into a contempt of those particular things which he may at any time happen to find so treated ; and, instead of being led by ' profane scoffing on holy matters into atheism,' as Bacon supposes, he will be apt to pause and ' reflect that it may be as well to try over again, with serious candour, every- thing which has been hastily given up as fit only for ridicule, and to abandon the system of scoffing altogether ; looking at everything on the right side as well as on the wrong, and. trying how any system will look, standing upright, as well as topsy-turvy. ' The causes of atheism are ' Among the causes of atheism. Bacon has omitted one noticed by him as one of the causes of superstition, and yet it is not less a source of infidelity — 'the taking an aim at divine matters by human, which cannot but breed mixture of imaginations.' Now, in human nature there is no more powerful principle than a craving far infallibility in religious matters. To examine and re-examine, — to reason and reflect, — to hesitate, and to decide wuth caution, — to be always open to evidence, — and to acknowl- edge that, after all, we are liable to error; — all this is, on many accounts, una cceptable to the human mind, — ^both to its diffidence and to its pride, — to its indolence, — its dread of anxious cares, — and to its love of self-satisfied and confident repose. And hence there is a strong prejudice in favour of any system which promises to put an end to the work of inquiring, at once and for ever, and to relieve us from all embarrassing doubt and uncomfortable distrust. Consequently this craving for infallibi- lity predisposes men towards the pretensions, either of a supposed unerring Church, or of those who claim or who promise imme- diate inspiration. And this promise of infallible guidance, not only meets Man's wishes, but his conjectures also. When we give the reins to our own feelings and fancies, such a provision appears as probable as it is desirable. If antecedently to the distinct announcement of any particular revelation, men were asked what kind of revelation they would wish to obtain, and again, what kind of revelation they would think it the most 164: Of Atheism. [Essay xvi. reasonable ^w^jprobdble that God should hestow, they would be likely to answer hoth questions by saying, 'Such a revelation as should provide some infallible guide on earth, readily accessible to QN(^r^ man ; so that no one could possibly be in doubt, on any point, as to what he was required to believe and to do; but ehould be placed, as it were, on a kind of plain high road, which he would only have to follow steadily, without taking any care to look around him ; or, rather, in some kind of vehicle on such a road, in which he would be safely carried to his journey's end, even though asleep, provided he never quitted that vehicle. For,' a man might say, ' if a book is put into my hands containing a divine revelation, and in which are passages that may be differently understood by different persons, — even by those of learning and ability, — even by men pro- fessing each to have earnestly prayed for spiritual guidance • owards the right interpretation thereof, — and if, moreover, this Dook contains, in respect of some points of belief and of con- duct, no directions at all, — then there is a manifest necessity that I should be provided with an infallible interpreter of this book, who shall be always at hand to be consulted, and ready to teach me, without the possibility of mistake, the right meaning of every passage, and to supply all deficiencies and omissions in the book itself. For, otherwise, this revelation is, to me^ no revelation at all. Though the book itself be perfectly free from all admixture of error, — though all that it asserts be true, and all its directions right, still it is no guide for me, unless I have an infallible certainty, on each point, what its assertions and directions are. It is in vain to tell me that the pole-star is always fixed in the north ; I cannot steer my course by it when it is obscured by clouds, so that I cannot be certain where that star is. I need a compass to steer by, which I can consult at all times. There is, therefore, a manifest necessity for an infallible and universally accessible interpreter on earth, as an indispensable accompaniment — and indeed essential part — of any divine revelation.' Such would be the reasonings, and such the feelings, of a man left to himself to consider what sort of revelation from Heaven would be the most acceptable, and also the most j9ro- hable, — the most adapted to meet his wishes and his wants. And thus are men predisposed, both by their feelings and their i Essay xvi.] Annotations. 165 antecedent conjectures, towards the admission of such preten- sions as have been above alhided to. And it may be added, that any one who is thus induced to give himself up implicitly to the guidance of such a supposed infallible authority, without presuming thenceforth to exercise his own judgment on any point relative to religion, or to think foi- himself at all on such matters, — such a one will be likely to regard this procedure as the very perfection of pious humility., — as a most reverent obsei'vance of the rule of ' lean not to thine own understanding ;' though in reality it is the very error of improperly leaning to our own understanding. For, to resolve to believe that God must have dealt with mankind just in the way that loe could whh as tiie most desirable, and in the way that to us seems the most probahle, — this is, in fact, to set iij) ourselves as his judges. It is to dictate to Him, in the spirit of Naanian, who thought that the prophet would recover him by a touch ; and who chose to be healed by the waters of Abana and Pliarpar, the rivers of Damascus, which he deemed better than all the waters of Israel. But anything that falls in at once with men's wishes, and with their conjectures, and which also presents itself to them in the guise of a virtuous huinility, — this they are often found readily and firmly to believe, not only without evidence, but against all evidence. And thus it is in the present case. The principle that every revelation from Heaven necessarily requires, as an indispensable accompaniment, an infallible interpreter always at hand, — this ])rinciple clings so strongly to the minds of many men, that they are even found still to maintain it after they have ceased to believe in any revelation at all, or even in the existence of a God. There can be no doubt of the fact, that very great numbers of men are to be found, — they are much more nuujerous in some parts of the Continent than among us ; men not deficient in intelligence, nor altogether strangers to reflection, who, while they, for the most part conform externally to the prevailing religion, are inwardly utter \mbelievers in Christianity ; yet still hold to the princijDle, — which, in fact, has had the chief share in midcing them uidjelievers, — that the idea of a divine keve- LATiox implies that of a universally accessible, infallible iNTEKi'KKTER ; and that the one without the other is an absur- dity and contradiction. 166 Of Atheism. [Essay xvi. And tliis principle it is that lias mainly contributed to make these men unbelievers. For, when a tolerably intelligent and reflective man' has fully satisfied himself that in point of fact no such provision has been made, — that no infallible and uni- versally accessible interpreter does exist on earth (and this is a conclusion which even the very words of Paul, in his discourse at Miletus {Acts xx.) would be alone fully sufficient to establish) — when he has satisfied himself of the non-existenoe of this interpreter, yet still adheres to the principle of its supposed necessity^ the consequence is inevitable, that he will at once reject all belief of Christianity. The ideas of a revelation, and of an unerring interpreter, being, in his mind, inseparably conjoined, the overthrow of the one belief cannot but carry the other along with it. Such a person, therefore, will be apt to think it not worth while to examine the reasons in favour of any other form of Christianity, not pretending to furnish- an infallible interpreter. This — which, he is fully convinced, is essential to a Revelation from Heaven — is, by some Churches, claimed^ but not established, while the rest do not even claim it. The pretensions of the one he has listened to, and delibe- rately rejected; those of the other he regards as not even wc»rth listening to. The system, then, of reasoning from our own conjectures as to the necessity of the Most High doing so and so, tends to lead a man to proceed from the rejection of his own form of Christianity to a rejection of revelation altogether. But does it stop here ? Does not the same system lead naturally to Atheism also ? Experience shows that that consequence, which reason might have anticipated, does often actually take place. He who gives the reins to his own conjectures as to what is necessary, and thence draws his conclusions, will be likely to find a necessity for such divine interference in the aflairs of the world as does not in fact take place. He will deem it no less than necessary, that an omnipotent and all-wise and beneficent Being should interfere to rescue the oppressed from the oppressor, — the cori'upted from the corruptor, — -to deliver men from such tenqj Nations to evil as it is morally impossible they should withstand; — -and, in short, to banish evil from the universe. And, since this is not done, he draws the inference that there Essay xvi.] Annotations. 167 cannot possibly be a God, and that to believe otherwise is a gross absnrdity. Such a belief lie may, indeed, consider as useful for keeping up a wholesome awe in the minds of the vulgar ; and for their sakes he may outwardly profess Christianity also ; even as the heathen philosophers of old endeavoured to keep up the popular superstitions ; but a real belief he will regard as something impossible to an intelligent and reflective mind. It is not meant that all, or the greater part, of those who maintain the principle here spoken of, are Atheists. We all know how common it is for men to fail of carrying out some principle (whether good or bad) which they have adopted ; — how common, to maintain the premises, and not perceive the con- clusion to which they lead. But the tendency of the principle itself is what is here' pointed out: and the danger is anything but imaginary, of its leading, in fact, as it does naturally and consistently, to Atheism as its ultimate result. But surely, the Atheist is not hereby excused. To reject or undervalue the revelation God has bestowed, urging that it is no revelation to us^ or an insufficient one, because unerring certainty is not bestowed also, — because we are required to exercise patient diligence, and watchfulness, and candour, and humble self-distrust, — this would be as unreasonable as to dis- parage and reject the bountiful gift of eye-sight, because men's eyes have sometimes deceived them — ^because men have mis- taken a picture for the object imitated, or a mirage of the desert for a lake ; and have fancied they had the evidence of sight for the sun's motion ; and to infer from all this that we ought to blindfold ourselves, and be led henceforth by some guide who pretends to be himself not liable to such deceptions. Let no one fear that by forbearing to forestall the judgment of the last day, — by not presuming to dictate to the Most High, and boldly to pronounce in what way He must have im- parted a revelation to Man, — by renouncing all pretensions to infallibility, M'hether an immediate and personal, or a derived infallibility, — by owulng themselves to be neither impeccable nor infallible (both claims are alike groundless), and by con- senting to undergo those trials of vigilance and of patience which God has appointed for them, — let them not fear that by this they will forfeit all cheerful hope of final salvation, — all 168 Of Atheism. [Essay xvi. 'joy and peace in believing.' The reverse of all this is the reality. "While such Christians as have songht rather ior peace^ — for mental tranquillity and satisfaction, — than for truth, will often fail both of truth and peace, those of the opposite dis- position are more likely to attain both from their gracious Master. He has taught us to ' take heed that we be not deceived,' and to ' Beware of false prophets ;' and He has promised us His own peace and heavenly comfort. He has bid us watch and pray ; He has taught us, through His blessed Apostle, to ' take heed to ourselves,' and to ' work out our salvation with fear and trembling ;' and He has declared, through the same Apostle, that ' He worketh in us ;' He has bid us rejoice in hope ; He has promised that He ' will not suffer us to be tempted above what we are able to bear ;' and he has taught us to look forward to the time when we shall no longer ' see as by means of a mirror, darkly, but face to face ;' — when we shall know ' not in part, but even as we are known ;' — when faith shall be succeeded by certainty, and hope be ripened into enjoyment. His precepts and his promises go together. His support and comfort are given to those who seek for them in the way He has Himself appointed. ESSAY XVII. OF SUPERSTITION. IT were better to have no opinion of God at all, than such an opinion as is unworthy of Him; for the one is nnbelief, the other is contumely : and certainly superstition is the repj;oach of the Deity. Plutarch saith well to that purpose : ' Surely,' saith he, ' I had rather a great deal, men should say there was ^ h^'^ no such a man at all as Plutarch, than that they should say there was one Plutarch, that would eat his children as soon as. f\ they were born ;" as the poets speak of Saturn : and as the contumely is greater towards God, so the djiiiger is greater towards men. Atheism leaves a man to sense, to philosophy, to natural piety, to laws, to reputation — all which may bo guides to an outward moral virtue, though religion w^ere not, — -, > ^ ' but superstition dismounts all these, and erecteth an absolute monarchy in the minds of men ; therefore atheism did never perUirb" States; for it makes men wary of themselves, as look- ing no further ; and we see the tiines inclined to atheism, as the time of Augustus Caesar, were civiP times ; but superstition hath been the confusion of many States, and bringelh in a new primum mobile* that ravisheth all the spheres of government. ITie master of superstition' is the people, and in all superstition wise men follow fools ; and arguments are fitted to practice in a reversed order. It was gravely said, by some of the prelates in the Council of Trent, where the doctrine of the schoolmen bare great~sway, that the schoolmen were like astronomers, which did fei^n ejicentrics and epicycles, and such engines of orbs, to save the phenomena, though they knew there were no such things ; and, in like manner, that the schoolmen had framed a number of subtile and intricate axioms and theorems, to sa,ve the practice of the Church. ' Plut. De Superstit. x. ' Perturb. 7'o disturb. ' They are content to suffer the penalties annexed, rather than pcrhirb the public peace.' — King Charles I. ^ Civil. Orderly ; trangnil; civilized. 'For rudest minds by harmony were caught. And civil life was by the Muses taught.' — Roscommon, * Primum mobile. See page 140. 170 Of Superstitio7i. [Essay xvii. The causes of superstition are pleasing and sensual' rites and ceremonies ; excess of outward and pliarisaical holiness ; over- great reverence of traditions, which cannot but load the Church ; the stratagems of prelates for their own ambition and lucre ; the favouring too much of good intentions, which openeth the gate to conceits and novelties ;. the taking an aim at divine matters by human, which cannot but breed inixture of iniaginatio.ns ; and, lastly, barbarous times, especially joined with ca,lamities and dis- asters. Superstition, without a veil, is a deformed thing; for as :• ' it addetli deformity to an ape to be so like a man, so the shnili- tude oFsuperstition to religion makes it the more deformed ; and as wholesome meat corrupteth to little worms, so good forms and orders, corrupt into a number o f pet ty observances. There is a ^ 9 superstition in avoiding superstition, when men think to do A best if they go farthest from the superstition formerly receivecl; therefore care woukP be had that (as it fareth in ill purgings) the good be not taken away with the bad, which commonly is done when the people is the reformer. ANTITHETA ON SUPERSTITION. Pro. Contra. * Qui zelo peccant, non probandi, sed ' Ut siniire, similitudo cum homine, tamen amandi sunt. defonnitatem addit ; ita superstitioni, ' TJioxe who go wrong from, excess of similitudo cum religione. zeal, cawiot indeed be approved, but must ' As an ape is the more hideous forr its nevertheless be loved.' resemblance to a man, so is superstition * * * * from its resemblance to religion.' ' Prsestat nullam habere de diis opi- nionem, quam contumeliosam. ' It is better to have no opinion at all of tlie gods, than a degrading one.' ANNOTATIONS. Some use the word superstition to denote any belief which they hold to be absurd, if those who hold it can give no ex- planation of it. For example, some fancy that the hair will not ffrow well if it be cut in the wane of the moon. But such ' Sensual Affecting the senses. ' Would. Should. i Essay xvii.] Annotations. 171 a notion, tliongli it may be a groundless fancy, is not to be called in the strict sense, a superstition, unless it be connected with some sort of religious reverence for some supposed super- human agent. Neither is superstition (as it has been deilned by a popular though superficial writer) ' an excess of religion' (at least in the ordinary sense of the word excess), as if any one could have too much of true religion, but any misdirection of religious feeling; manifested either in showing religious venera- tion or regard to objects which deserve none ; that is, properly speaking, the worship of false gods ; or, in the assignment of such a degree, or such a kind of religious veneration to any ob- ject, as that object, though worthy of some reverence, does not deserve ; or in the worship of the true God through the medium of improper rites and ceremonies. It was the unsparing suppression of both those kinds of superstition which constituted the distinguished and peculiar merit of tluxt upriglit and zealous prince, Hezekiah. He was not s^^H^^ke many other kings, with putting down that Uta^^^^^^^Brstition which involves the breach of the first Col^MBPBBit — the setting up of false gods ; but was equally decisive in his reprobation of the other branch also — the worship of the true God by the medium of prohibited emblems, and with unauthorized and superstitious rites. Of these two kinds of superstition, the latter is continually liable, in practice, to slide into the former by such insensible degrees, that it is often hard to decide, in particular cases, where the breach of the second Commandment ends, and that of the first begins. The distinction is not, however, for that reason useless; perhaps it is even the more useful on that very account, and was for that reason preserved, in those two Commandments, of which the second serves as a kind of outwork to the first, to guard against all gi-adual approaches to a violation of it — to keep men at a distance from infringing the majesty of ' the jealous God.' Minds strongly predisposed to superstition, may be compared to heavy bodies just balanced on the verge of a precipice. The slightest touch will send them over, and then, the greatest exertion that can be made may be insuflicient to arrest their taU. L72 Of Superstition. [Essay xvii. ' The one is U7ibelief, the other is contximely ; and certainly sujyerstition is the reproach of the Deity.'' Bacon might have said that both are iinbehef ; for, he who rashly gives heed to superstitions dehisions, errs not from excess of faith., but from want of faith ; since what is true in his behef, he receives not hecause it is true^ — but because it agrees with some prejudice or fancy of his own ; and he is right when he is right, only by chance. Having violated the spirit of the first Commandment, by regarding what is hunuin with the veneration due to that only which is divine, his worship, even of the true God, becomes an abomination. ' lie has set up idols in his heart, and the Lord, the jealous God, will set His face against that man.' And in reference to this contumely of God, it is a circum- stance very remarkable, that, in many instances at least, super- stition not only does not promote true religion, but even tends to generate profaneness. In proof of the strange mixture of superstition and profaneness that leads to the jokes and sallies of wit that are frequently heard among the Spanish peasantry, even in respect to the very objects of superstitious reverence, I can cite the testimony of an eminently competent witness. The like strange mixture is found in other Koman Catholic, and also in Pagan countries, particularly among the Hindoos, who are described as habitually reviling their gods in the grossest terms, on the occasion of any untoward event. And in our own country nothing is so common a theme of profane jests among the vulgar of all ranks as the Devil ; a large pro- portion of the superstition that exists being connected more or less with the agency of Evil Spirits. This curious anomaly may perhaps be, in a great measure at least, accounted for, from the consideration, that as supersti- tion imposes a yoke rather of fear than of love, her votaries are glad to take revenge, as it were, when galled by this yoke, and to indemnify themselves in some degree both for the irksome- ness of their restraints and tasks, and also for the degradation (some sense of which is always excited by a consciousness of slavish dread), by taking liberties whenever they dare., either in the way of insult or of playfulness, with the objects of their dread. Essay xvii.] Annotations. 173 But how conies it that they ever do dare, as we see is the fact, to take these liberties ? This will perhaps be explained by its being a characteristic of snperstition to enjoin, and to attribnte efficacy to, the mere performance of some specific outward acts, — the use of some material object, without any loyal, aftectionate devotion of heart being required to accompany such acts, and to pervade the whole life as a ruling motive. Hence, the rigid observance of the precise directions given, leaves the votary secure, at ease in conscience, and at liberty, as well as in a disposition, to indulge in profaneness. In like manner a patient, who dares not refuse to swallow a nauseous dose, and to confine himself to a strict regimen, yet who is both vexed, and somewhat ashamed, at submitting to the annoyance, will sometimes take his revenge as it were, by abusive ridicule of the medical attendant and his drugs ; knowing that this will not, so long as he does but take the medicines, diminish their efficacy. Superstitious observances are a kind of distasteful or disgusting remedy, which, however, is to operate if it be but swallowed, and on which accordingly the votary sometimes ventures gladly to revenge himself. Thus does superstition generate profaneness. ^ As tJie contumely is greater towards God, so the danger is greater towards men.'' It is somewhat strange that it should be necessary to remark on the enormity — the' noxious character — of all superstition. Tlie mischiefs of superstition are, I conceive, much underrated. It is by many regarded, not as any sin, but as a mere harmless folly, at the worst ; — as, in some instances, an amiable weak- ness, or even a salutary delusion. Its votaries are pitied, as in some cases subjected to needless and painful restraints, and undergoing groundless terrors ; — sometimes they are ridi- culed as enslaved to absurd and puerile observances : but whether pitied or laughed at, superstitious Christians are often regarded as likely — at least as not the less likely on account of their superstition, — to have secured the essentials of religion : — as believing and practising what is needful towards salvation, and as only carrying their faith and their practice, unneces- 174 Of Superstition. [Essay xvii. sarilj and unreasonably, to the jDoint of weak credulity and foolish scrupulosity. This view of the subject has a strong tendency to confirm the superstitious, and even to add to their number. They feel that if there is any doubt, they are surely on the safb side. ' Supposing I am in error on this or that point' (a man may say), ' I am merely doing something super- fluous ; at the worst I suffer some temporary inconvenience, and perhaps have to encounter some ridicule ; but if the error be on the other side, I risk my salvation by embracing it ; my present course therefore is evidently the safest — I am, after all, on the safe side.' — As if there were any safe side but the side of truth ; and as if it could be safe to manifest distrust of a skilful physician by combining with his medicines all the nostrums of all the ignorant pi'actitioners in the neighbourhood. ' How far the superstition of any individual may be ex- cusable or blameable in the sight of God, can be pronounced by Him alone, who alone is able to estimate each man's strength or weakness, his opportunities of gaining knowledge, and his employment or neglect of those opportunities. ' But the same may be said of every other oft'ence, as well as of those in question. Of superstition itself in all its various forms and degrees, I cannot think otherwise than that it is not merely a folly to be ridiculed, but a mischief to be dreaded ; and that its tendency is, in most cases, as far as it extends, destructive of true piety. ' The disposition to reverence some superliuman Power, and in some way or other to endeavour to recommend ourselves to the favour of that Power, is (more or less in ditferent individuals) a natural and original sentiment of the human mind. The great Enemy of Man finds it easier in most cases to misdirect, than to eradicate this. If an exercise for this religious senti- ment can be provided — if this natural craving after divine worship (if I may so speak) can be satisfied — by the practice of superstitious ceremonies, true piety will be much more easily extinguished ; the conscience will on this point have been set at rest ; God's place in the heart will, as it were, have been pre-occupied by an idol ; and that genuine i-eligion which consists in a devotedness of the aftections to God, operating on the improvement of the moral character, will be more effectually shut out, from the religious feelings of our natui-e having found Essay xvii.] Annotations. 175 another vent, and exhausted themselves on vanities of man's devising." Too religious, in the proper sense of the word, we cannot be. We cannot have the religious sentiments and principles too strong, or too deeply fixed, if only they have a right object. We cannot love God too warmly — or honour Him too highly — or strive to serve Him too earnestly — or trust Him too impli- citly ; because our duty is to love Him ' with all our heart, and all our soul, and all our mind, and all our strength.'' But too religious, in another sense, we may, and are very apt to be ; — that is, we are very apt to make for ourselves too many objects of religious feeling. JSTow, Almighty God has revealed Himself as the proper object of religion — as the one only Power on whom we are to feel ourselves continually dependent for all things, and the one only Beiug whose tavour we are continually to seek. And, lest we should complain that an Infinite Being is an object too remote and incomprehensible for our minds to dwell upon, He has manifested himself in his Son, the man Jesus Christ, whose history and character are largely described to us in the gospels ; so that, to love, fear, honour, and serve Jesus Christ, is to love, fear, honour, and serve Almighty God ; Jesus Christ being ' one with the Father,' and ' all the fulness of the Godhead ' dwelling in Him. But as long as our characters are not lihe God's, and we are unwilling to have them made like his, we are naturally averse to being brought thus into immediate contact with Him ; and we shrink from holding (as it were) direct converse, or ' walking with' God — from making Him the object towards which our thoughts and aff'ections directly turn, and the person to whom we come straight in our prayers, and in whose control and presence we feel ourselves at all times. Hence, men wisli to put between themselves and God some other less perfect Beings, with whom they can be more familiar, and who (they hope) will 'let them off' more easily, when they sin, than He would. Now, indulging this disposition is not merely adding to true religion, but destroying, or going near to destroy it. For, when * Errors of Romanism, 3rd edition, Essay i, § 3, pp. 34-37. 176 Of Superstition. [Essay xvii. we liave once made for ourselves such objects of religious feel- ings, they are objects so much more suited to our corrupt nature than God is, that we soon begin to let Him dro^) out of our minds entirely, whilst the inferior Powers engross all our sei'ious worship. Thus the heathens, who began with adding the wor- ship of other deities to that of the Supreme, ended with ceasing to woi-ship the Supreme at all. Nor does it make so much difference, as one might at first suppose, whether we think of such inferior Beings as lords, having a direct control over us (as the Pagans commonly did), or as only injiuenGing the Supreme through their fa\'our with Him ; as the Greeks and Eoman- catholics commonly profess to think of the glorified saints ; because he, from whom I expect happiness or misery, becomes the uppermost object in my mind, whether he give or only pro- cnire it. If an agent has such influence with the landlord, that the agent's friends are sure of favour, and his foes are sure of hard treatment, it is the agent, and not the landlord, that the tenants will most think about; though all his power comes really from the landlord. Hence we may see the danger of this kind of superstition, by wdiich the heart which should be God's \s> forestalled., as it were, by other objects. '"Atheism did never perturh States.'' It may perhaps be inferred fi-om this remark that Bacon entertained an opinion, held by some, that persons indifferent about all religions are the most likely to be tolerant of all, and to be averse to persecution and coercion. But this is a mis- taken notion. Many persons, indeed, perhaps most, are tole- rant or intolerant according to their respective tempers, and not according to tliQiv principles. But as far as principles are con- cerned, certainl}^ the latitudinarian is the more likely to be intolerant, and the sincerely conscientious tolerant. A man who is careless about religious sincerity may clearly see and appreciate the political convenience of religious uniformity., and if he has no religious scruples of his own, he will not be the more likely to be tender of the religious scruples of others : if he is ready himself to profess what he does not believe, he will see no reason why others should not do the same. ' Mr. Brydone mentions in his Travels the case of an English- Essay xvii.] Annotations. 177 man who attended mass at a cliurcli in Naples tliroiigh curio- sity (wliieli I am far from justifying), and on the elevation of the Host, remained standing, -while those around knelt : for this he was reproved by a gentleman near him, as a violation of the rules of delicacy and good breeding, in thus shocking the feelings of the congregation : he answered that he did not believe in the real presence; No more do /, 5^V,' was the reply ; 'and yet you see Ihieel.'' ' Now, Avithout attempting to vindicate the conduct of the Englishman (who was under no compulsion to be present at a service in which he scrupled to join), it may be remarked that the Neapolitan, or Mr. Brydone, would probably have been disposed, if entrustcid with the government of any country, to comjyel every one's compliance, in all points, with whatever the feelings of the people required ; not only to kneel before the Host, but to attend in processions the image of St. Januarius, &c., if their omitting it would be likely to give offence. The plea of conscientious scruple they would not have understood. ' I do not believe so and so,' would have been met by the ready answer, ' No more do I; and yet I hieel.''^ ' As the Protestant is often inclined to look no further than to Romanism for the origin of persecution, so is the Inhdel to regard Christianity as the chief cause of it. But both are mistaken. I am convinced that atheists, should they ever become the predominant party, would persecute religion. For it is to human nature M'e must trace both this and many other of those evils which each man is usually disposed to attribute to the particular system he is opposed to ; and nearly the same causes, which generate especial hostility towards those who differ in faith from ourselves, would be found to exist for the atheists. They would feel themselves to be regarded by the Christians, not indeed as weak and credulous, but as perverse and profane : their confidence again in their own persuasion would be as likely to be shaken by the Christian, as the Chris- tian's by them : all the human passions, in short, and all the views of political expediency, which have ever tempted the Christian to persecute, would have a corresponding operation with them. * Kingdom of Christ, Essay i. § 13, page 59, 4th edition. 12 ^^^ Of Superstition. [Essay xvii ' ]^ot that I conceive most of tliem to have, themselves, any Buspicion of this, or to be insincere in their professed abhorrence of persecution. As no one wishes to persecute, so, they probably do not anticipate (under the above-mentioned supposition) such a state of things as would seem to call for coercive measures. They imagine, probably, that when they had deprived christian ministers of endowments, had publicly proclaimed the falsity of the christian faith, and had taken measures for promoting education, and circulating books calculated to enlighten the people, the whole system of religious belief would gradually, but speedily, die away, and be regarded in the same light with tales of fairies. Such, doubtless, was the notion of some, whom I have known to express regret that Buonaparte did not employ the power he possessed in conferring so great a benefit on society as he might have done, 'by abolishing Christianity.' They were thinking, probably, of no more active measures than the withholding of the support and countenance of govern- ment. ' In such expectations, every one who believes in Christianity must feel confident that they would be deceived. At first, indeed, appearances probably would be such as to promise favourably to their views. For, most of those who profess Christianity merely for fashion's sake, or in compliance with the laws of their country, would soon fall away ; and would be followed by many of such as wanted firmness to support ridi- cule, or the disfavour of those in power. But after a time the progress of irreligion would be found to have come to a stand. When the jilants ' on the stony ground' had been all scorched up, those ' on the good soil' would be found still flourishing. Sincere Christians would remain firm ; and some probably would be roused to exert themselves even with increased zeal ; and some apostates would be reclaimed. Complaints would then be raised, that christian preachers decried, as profane and mischievous, the works put forth by authority ; and that they represented the rulers as aliens from God, and men whose example should be shunned. Those indeed who had imbibed the true spirit of the Gospel, would not fail to inculcate, after the example of the Apostles, the duty of loyal submission, even tc unchristian magistrates ; but it is not unlikely that some Essay xvii.] Annotations. 17 9 would even take a contrary course, and would thus help to bring the imputation of sedition on christian preaching universally. 'The rabble again, would be likely occasionally to assail with tumultuous insult and outrage, the Christians ; who would in consequence be represented by their enemies as occasioning these tumults ; especially if, as is likely, some among them did not submit patiently to such usage, or even partly provoked it by indiscretion. And however free the generality of the Chris- tians might be from any just suspicion of a design to resort to lawless violence in the cause of their religion, still it would be evident that a revival and renewed diffusion of Christianity, sucli as they were furthering, must, after it should reach a certain point, endanger the continuance of power in the hands then wielding it ; and that such a change of rulers would put a stop to the plans which had been commenced for the ameliora- tion of society. Representing then, and regarding Christianity as the great obstacle to improvement, as the fruitful source of civil dissensions, and as involving disaffection to the then existing government, they would see a necessity for actively interfering, with a view (not indeed like religions persecutors, to the salvation of souls, but) to the secular welfare of their 6ul)jects, and the security and prosperity of the civil com- munity. Tliey would feel themselves accordingly (to say nothing of any angry passions that miglit intrude) bound in duty to prohibit the books, the preaching, and the assemblies of Chris- tians. The Christians would then, in violation of the law, circulate Bibles clandestinely, and hold their assemblies in cellars, and on sequestered heaths. Coercion would of course become necessary to repress these (as they would then be) illegal acts. And next but I need not proceed any further ; for I find I have been giving almost an exact descrip- tion of the state of things wlien the christian Churches were spreading in the midst of Heathenism. And yet I have only been following up the conjectures, which no one (believing in Christianity,) could fail to form, who was but tolerably acquainted with human nature. For ' such transactions,' says the great historian of Greece, ' take place, and always wull take place (though varied in form, and in degree of violence, by circum- 180 Of Swperstition. [Essay xvii. stances), as long as Jiuman nature remains the same.' ' Never can we be secured from the recurrence of the like, hut by the implantation of some principle which is able to purify, to reno- vate, to convert that nature ; in short, to ' create the new MAN."* Christianity, often as its name has been blazoned on the banners of the persecutor — Christianity, truly undei-stood, as represented in the writings of its founders, and honestly applied, furnishes a preventive — the ovi[j permaneoitly Q&QdvisI preventive, — of the spirit of persecution. For, as with fraudu- lent, so it is also with coercive, measures, employed in matters pertaining to religion: we must not expect that the generality will be so far-sighted, as always to perceive their ultimate inex- pediency in each particular case that may occur ; they will be tempted to regard the peculiar circumstances of this or that emergency as constituting an exception to the general rule, and calling for a departm-e from the general principle. Whereas the plainest Christian, when he has once ascertained, as he easily may, if he Jionestly consult the Scriptures, what the will of God is, in this point, will walk boldly forward in the path of his duty, though he may not see at every turn whither it is leading him ; and with full faith in the divine wisdom, will be ready, in pious confidence, to leave events in the hands of Providence.' ' ' The master of s^tperstition is the peojole? Bacon has here shown that he perceived what is too fre- quently overlooked — the real origin of priestcraft. I take leave to quote again from the Errors of Romanisin. ' We are accus- tomed to hear much of priestcraft — of the subtle arts of designing men, who imposed on the simplicity of an ignorant people, and persuaded them to believe that they, the priests, alone understood the nature of the Deity — the proper mode in which to propitiate Him — and the mysterious doctrines to which the others were to give their implicit assent ; and the poor deluded people are represented as prevailed on against their better judgment, by the sophistry, and promises, and threats of these crafty impostors, to make them the keepers of their con- 'Thucyd. B. iii. c. 82. « Eph. iv. 24. ' Essay on ' Persecution,' 3rd series. Essay xvii.] Annotations. 181 Bciences — their mediators, and substitutes in tlie service of God, and their despotic spiritual rulers. ' Tliere is midoubtedly much truth in such a representation ; but it leaves on the mind an erroneous impression, because it is (at the utmost) only half the truth. 'If, indeed, in any country, priests had been Beings of a diflerent species — or a distinct caste, as in some of the Pagan nations where the priesthood is hereditary; — if this race had been distinguished from the people by intellectual superiority and moral depravity, and if the people had been sincerely de- sirous of knowing, and serving, and obeying God for themselves, but had been persuaded by these demons in human form that this was impossible, and that the laity must trust them to perform what was requisite, in tlieir stead, and submit implicitly to their guidance, — '.hen, indeed, there would be ground for regarding priestcraft as altogether the work of the priests, and in no degree of the people. But we should remember, that in every age and country (even where they were, as the Romish priests were not, a distinct caste,) priests must have been mere men, of like passions with their brethren ; and though some- times they might have, on the whole, a considerable intellectual superiority, yet it must always have been impossible to delude men into the reception of such gross absurdities, if they had not found in them a readiness — nay, a craving — for delusion. The rejily which is recorded of a Romish priest, i^, (not in the sight of God indeed, but) as fai" as regards any complaint on the part of the laity, a satisfactory defence ; when taxed wuth some of the monstrous impostures of his Church, his answer was 'The people wish to be deceived ; and let them be deceived." Such, indeed, was the case of Aaron, and similar the defence he ofl'ered, for making the Israelites an image, at their desire. Let it not be forgotten, that the^V'^^ recorded instance of departure from ])urity of worship, as established by the revelation to the Israelites, w'as forced on the priest by \\\q j)^02)U. 'The truth is, mankind have an innate propensity, as to other errors, so, to that of endeavouring to serve God by proxy ; — to commit to some distinct Order of men the care of their religious concerns, in the same manner as they confide the care ' Populus vult decipi, et decijiiatui'.' 182 Of Superstition. [Essay xvii. of their bodily liealtli to the physician, and of their legal transactions to the lawyer; deeming it sufficient to follow implicitly their directions, without attempting themselves to become acquainted with the mysteries of medicine or of law. For, Man, except when unusually depraved, retains enough of the image of his Maker, to have a natural reverence for reli- gion, and a desire that God should be worshipj)ed ; but, through the corruption of his nature, his heart is (except when divinely purified) too much alienated from God to take delight in serving Him. Hence the disposition men have ever shown, to substitute the devotion of the priest for their own ; to leave the duties of piety in his hands, and to let .him serve God in their stead. This disposition is not so much the consequence, as itself the origin of j)riestcraft. The Eomisli hierarchy did but take advantage from time to time of this natural propensity, by ingrafting successively on its system such practices and points of doctrine as favoured it, and which were naturally converted into a source of j)rofit and influence to the priesthood. Hence sjDrung — among other instances of what Bacon calls ' the strata- gems of prelates for their own ambition and lucre,' — the gradual transformation of the Christian minister — the Presbyter — into the sacrificing priest, the Hiercus (in Latin, 'sacerdos,' as the Romanists call theii's) of the Jewish and Pagan religions. Hence sprung the doctrine of the necessity of Confession to a priest, and of the efficacy of the Penance he enjoins, and of the Absolution he bestows. These corruptions crept in one by one ; originating for the most part wath an ignorant and depraved peoj^le, but connived at, cherished, consecrated, and successively established, by a debased and worldly-minded Ministry ; and modified by them just so far as might best favour the views of their secular ambition. The system thus gradually com^Jacted, was not — like Mahometism — the deliberate contrivance of a designing impostor. Mahomet did indeed most artfully accom- modate his system to Man's liature, but did not wait for the gradual and spontaneous operajions of human nature to produce it. He reared at once the standard of proselytism, and im- posed on his followers a code of doctrines and laws ready framed for their reception. The tree which he planted did indeed find a congenial soil ; mut he planted it at once witli its trunk full formed and its branches displayed. The Romish Essay xvii.] Annotations. 183 system, on tlie contrary, rose insensibly, like a young plant from the seed, making a progress scarcely perceptible from year to year, till at length it had iixed its roots deeply in the soil, and spread its baneful shade far around. ' Infecunda quidem, sed Iseta et fortia surguut, Qiiippe Solo natura subest ;' it was the natural ofispring of man's frail and corrupt character, and it needed no sedulous culture. It had its source in human passions, not checked and regulated by those who ought to have been ministers of the Gospel, but who, on the contrary, were ever ready to indulge and encourage men's weakness and wickedness, provided they could turn it to their own advantage. Tlie good seed ' fell among thorns ;' which being fostered by those who should have been occupied in rooting them out, not only ' sprang up with it,' but finally choked and overpowered it. ' In all superstition wise men follow fools / and arguments are fitted to practice in a reverse order? ' It is a mistake, and a very common, and practically not unimportant one, to conclude that the origin of each tenet or practice is to be found in those arguments or texts wdiich are urged in support of it ; — that they furnish the cause, on the removal of which the effects wall cease of course ; and that when once those reasonings are exploded, and those texts rightly explained, all danger is at an end, of falling into similar errors. ' The fact is, that in a great number of instances, and by no means exclusively in questions connected with religion, the erroneous belief or practice has arisen first, and the theory has been devised afterwards for its support. Into whatever opinions or conduct men are led by any human propensities, they seek to defend and justify these by the best arguments they can frame : and then, assigning (as they often do in perfect sincerity) these arguments as the cause of their adopting such notions, they misdirect the course of our inquiry ; and thus the chance (however small it may be at any rate) of rectifying their errors is diminished. For if these be in reality traceable to some deep-seated principle of our nature, as soon as ever one false foundation on which they have been placed is removed, another will be substituted ; as soon as one theory is proved untenable, 184 Of Superstition. [Essay xvii. a new one will be devised in its place. And in the mean time, we ourselves are apt to be lulled into a false security against errors whose real origin is to be sought in the universal pro- pensities of human nature. ' Not only Romanism, but almost every system of supersti- tion, in order to be rightly understood, should be (if I may so speak) read backwards. To take an instance, in illustration of what has been said, from the mythological system of the ancients : if we inquire why the rites of sepulture were regarded by them as of such vast importance, we are told that, according to their system of religious belief, the souls of those whose bodies were unburied were doomed to wander disconsolate on the banks of the river Styx. Such a tenet, supposing it previously established, was undoubtedly well calculated to pro- duce or increase the feeling in question ; but is it not much the more probable supposition, that the natural anxiety about our mortal remains, which has been felt in every Age and Country, and which many partake of who are at a loss to explain and justify it, drove them to imagine and adopt the theory which gave a rational appearance to feelings and practices already existing ? ' And the same principle will apply to the greater part of the Romish errors ; the cause assigned for each of them will in general be found to be in reality its effect, — the arguments by whicli it is supported, to have gained currency from men's par- tiality for the conclusion. It is thus that we must explain what is at first sight so great a paradox : the vast difference of effect apparently produced in minds of no contemptible powers, by the same arguments, — the frequent inefficacy of the most cogent reasonings, — and the hearty satisfaction with which the most futile are often listened to and adopted. ISTothing is in general easier than to convince one who is prepared and desirous to be convinced ; or to gain any one's full approbation of arguments tending to a conclusion he has already adopted ; or to refute triumphantly in his eyes any objections brought against what he is unwilling to doubt. An argument which shall have made one convert, or even settled one really doubt- ing mind, though it is not of course necessarily a sound argu- ment, will have accomplished more than one which receives the Essay xvii.] Annotations. 185 unhesitating assent and loud applause of thousands who had already embraced, or were predisposed to embrace, the con- clusion." ' It is of great practical importance to trace, as far as we are able, each error to its real source. For instance, if we sup- pose the doctrine of Transubstantiation to have in fact arisen from the misinterpretation of the text, we shall expect to renu)ve the error by showing reasons why the passage should be under- stood ditferently: — a very reasonable expectation, where the doctrine Jias s^jrung from the 'iiiisinterpretation^hxA cpiite olher- wise where, as in this case, the misinterpretation has sjprung froin the doctrine. And that it has so sprung, besides the inti-insic improbability of men being led by the words in question to believe in Transubstantiation, we have the additional proof tliat the passage was before the eyes of the whole Christian world for ten centuries before the doctrine was thought of. 'Another exemplification of this principle may be fouiul in the origin of the belief in Komish supremacy and infallibility. This indeed had been gradually established before it was dis- tinctly claimed. Men did not submit to the authority, because they were convinced it was of divine origin, and inlallible ; but on the contrary, they were convinced of this, because tliey were disposed and accustomed so to submit. The tendency ' to teach for doctrines the commandments of men,' and to accpiiesce in such teaching, is not the eflect, but the cause, of their being taken for the commandments of God.'^ ' The causes of superstition are — -pleasing and sensual rites and ceremonies ' ' Tlie attributing of some sacred efficacy to the performance of an otdward act, or the presence of some material object^ without any inward devotion of the heart being required to ac- company it, is one of the most prevailing characteristics of super- stition. It is at least found, more or less in most species of it. The tendency to disjoin religious observances (that is, what are intended to be such), from heartfelt and practical religion, is one of the most besetting evils of our corrupt nature. Now, no one ^Errors of Romanism, 3rd edition, Essay IV. § 2, p. 18G-189. "^ Ibid. pp. 192, 193. 186 Of Superstition. [Essay xvii. can fail to perceive how opposite this is to true piety. Empty forms not only supersede piety by standing in its place, but gradually alter the habits of the mind, and render it unlit for the exercise of genuine pious sentiment. Even the natural food of religion (if I may so speak) is thus converted into its poison. Our very prayers, for example, and our perusal of the holy Scriptures, become superstitious, in proportion as any one expects them to operate as a charm — attributing efhcacy to the mere words, while his feelings and thoughts are not occupied in what he is doing.' ''Every religious ceremony or exercise, however well calcu- lated, in itself, to improve the heart, is liable, as I have said, thus to degenerate into a mere form, and consequently to become superstitious : but in proportion as the outward obser- vances are the more complex and operose, and the more unmean- ing or unintelligible, the more danger is there of superstitiously attaching a sort of magical efficacy to the bare outward act, independent of mental devotion. If, for example, even our prayers are liable, without constant watchfulness, to become a superstitious form, by our ' honouring God with our lips, while our heart is far from ELim,' this result is almost unavoidable when the prayers are recited in an unknown tongue, and with a prescribed number of ' vain repetitions,' crossings, and telling of beads. And men of a timorous mind, having once taken up a wrong notion of what religion consists in, seek a refuge from doubt and anxiety, a substitute for inward piety, and, too often, a compensation for an evil life, in an endless multiplication of superstitious observances ; — of pilgrimages, sprinklings with holy water, veneration of relics, and the like. And hence the enormous accumulation of superstitions, which, in the course of many centuries, gradually arose in the Ilomish and Greek Churches.' But were there no such thing in existence as a corrupt church, we are not to suppose that we are safe from supersti- tion. There are a great many things which cannot be dis- pensed, that, though not superstitious in themselves, may be abused into occasions of superstition. Such are the sacraments ; prayer, jjublic and private ; instructions from the ministers of See Essays, (2nd series,) Essay X., on Self-deniaL Essay xvii.] Annotatiofis. 187 the word ; buildings and days set apart, either wholly or partly, for these purposes. ' In a word — where anything, not in itself moral or religions, is connected with religion, superstition fastens upon that, because it is ' worldly,' and lets the rest go. Thus, when God's justice is described in Scripture as vengeance, to show us that it pursues the offender as sternly as a revengeful man would pursue his enemy, superstition fastens on the thought of God's thirsting for revenge^ and regards sin only as an offence which provokes in God a desire of inflicting pain on somebody. Again when water, or bread and wine, are made signs of the power of the Holy Spirit, or of Christ's body and blood sacrificed for us, superstition fastens on the water, or the bread and wine, as if they were the things themselves. When a place must be set apart for divine worship, superstition fancies that God dwells in that ])lace^ rather than in the hearts of the worshippers. When pictures or images of holy persons are set before us, superstition fastens on the image as if it were the reality. When rites and ceremonies are used to express our devotion, sujjerstition makes them our devotion. When prayers have to be said, superstition makes the saying them, prayer. When good books are to be perused, superetition makes the perusal edification. When works are to be done from a good motive, superstition makes the outward action the good works. When sufferings for righteousness' sake are commended, superstition takes the suffering for merit ; and so in many other instances. It seizes ever on the outward — on that which is not moral ; on tliat which strikes the senses or the imagination — and fastens there ; while true religion, on the contrary, calls on us to ' lift up our heart' from the earthly to the heavenly, and use the out ward as a help to the ' inward.' " ' Too great reverence of traditions, over-loading the Church.^ It is extraordinary the readiness with which many persons acquiesce in tradition, and rest satisfied with an appeal to a standard in all respects so vague and uncertain. For, besides the uncertainty of traditions which are received in the Church of Eome, there is an additional uncertaintv to each individual ' Cautions for the Times, No. V. p. 81. 188 Of Sujperstition. [Essay xvii. Roman Catholic, wliat are so received. If a man when told, ' Such is the tradition of the Church,' should ask, ' how did you learn that?' It will be found, by pushing such inquiries, that the priest learnt it from a book, which Tejports that somethiug has been reported by one of the ancient fathers as having been reported to him as believed by those wdio had heard it reported that the Apostles taught it. So that, to found faith on an appeal to such tradition, is to base it on the report of a report of a report of a report. And, therefore, the discussions one sometimes meets with, as to the ' credibility of traditions, generally, are as idle as Hume's respecting the credit due to testimony. One might as well inquire, ' What degree ol regard should be paid to books V As common sense would dictate in reply, ' What book V us also ' TF/^os-e testimony ? — wJicd tradition?' As each ]3articular testimony, and each particular book, just so should each alleged tradition be examined on its own merits. 'Tradition is not the inteipreter of Scripture^ but Scripture is the interpreter of tradition. It is foolish to say that tradition is to be held to, rather than Scripture, 'because tradition was before Scripture ; since the Scriptures (that is, written records) were used on purpose, after traditions had been tried, to guard against the uncertainties of mere tradition. Scripture is the test ; and yet many defend oral tradition on the ground that we have the Scrij^tures themselves by tradition. Would they think that, because they could trust most servants to deliver a letter, however long or important, therefore they could trust them to deliver its contents in a message by word of mouth ? Take a familiar case. A footman brings you a letter from a friend, upon whose word you can perfectly rely, giving an account of something that has happened to himself, and the exact account of which yon are greatly concerned to know^ While you are reading and answering the letter, the footman goes into the kitchen, and there gives your cook an account of the same thing ; which, he says, he overheard the upper servants at home talking over, as related to them by the valet, who said he had it from your friend's son's own lips. The cook relates the story to your groom, and he, in turn, tells you. Would you judge of that story by the letter, or the letter by the story ?" Cautions for the Times, 1st. edition, No. XL pp. 20, 21. Essay xvii.] Annotatio?is. 189 Well might Bacon speak of the ' over-loading' by tradition, for it does over-load, Mdiether — according to the pretended dis- tinction — it be made co-ordinate with, or subordinate to, Scrip- ture. To make these countless traditions the substitute for Scripture by oftering them to the people as proofs of doctrine, is something like ottering to pay a large bill of exchange in farthings, which you know, it would be intolerably troublesome to count or carry. And tradition when made subordinate to, and dependent on. Scripture, is made so much in the same way that some parasite plants are dependent on the trees that support them. The parasite at first clings to, and rests on, the tree, which it gradually overspreads with its own foliage, till by little and little, it weakens and completely smothers it. ' Miratnrque novas froudes, et non sua poma.' But, with regard to this distinction attempted to be set up between co-ordinate and subordinate tradition, it is to be observed, that, ' if any human comment or interpretation is to be received implicitly and without appeal, it is placed prac- tically, as far as relates to everything except a mere question of di(/7iity, on a level with Scripture. Among the Parliamenta- rians at the time of the Civil War, there were many — at first a great majority — who professed to obey the King's commands, as not-ijied to tftem^ hy Parlia7nent, and levied forces in the King's name, against his person. If any one admitted Parliament to be the sole and authoritative interpreter and expounder of the regal commands, and this without any check from any other power, it is plain that he virtually admitted the sovereignty of that Parliament, just as much as if he had recognized their formal deposition of the King," ' The taJdng aim at divine matters hy human.'' The desire of prying into mysteries relative to the invisible world, but wliich have no connection with practice, is a charac- teristic of human natm*e, and to it may by traced the immense mass of presumptuous speculations about things unrevealcd, respecting God and his designs, and his decrees, ' secret to us,''^ as well as all the idle legends of various kinds respecting wonder- * Kingdom of Christ, 4th edition, Essay II. § 26, p. 216. ^ See Htli Article. 190 Of Superstition. [Essay xvii. working saints, &c. The sanction afforded to these by persons who did not themselves believe them, sprang from a dishonest pursuit of the expedient rather than the true ; but it is probable that the far greater part of such idle tales had not their origin in any deep and politic contrivance, but in men's natural passion for what is marvellous, and readiness to cater for that passion in each other; ■ — in the universal fondness of the human mind for speculative knowledge respecting things curious and things hidden, rather than (what alone tlie Scriptures supply) practical knowledge resj^ecting things which have a reference to our wants. It was thus the simplicity of the Gospel was corrupted by 'mixture of imaginations.' When the illumination from Heaven — the rays of revelation — failed to shed the full light men desired, they brought to the dial-plate the lamp of human philosophy. ' Men tJmik to do hest if they go furtliest from the superstition formerly receimcl ', therefore care would he had tJmt the good he not taken away with the had.'' Tliere is a natm'al tendency to ' mistake reverse of right for wrong.' It is not enough, therefore, to act upon the trite familiar rule of guarding especially against the error which on each occasion, or in each place, you find men especially liable to ; but you must remember, at the same time, this other caution, not less important and far more likely to be overlooked — to guard against a tendency to a reaction — against the prone- ness to rush from one extreme into the opposite. One cause of this is, that a painful and odious association is sometimes formed in men's minds with anything at all connected with that from which they have suffered much ; and thus they are led to reject the good and the evil together. This is figured in the Tale of a Tuh, by Jack's eagerness to be ' as unlike that rogue Peter as possible ;' and he accordingly tears off the tail of his coat, and flings it away, because it had been overlaid with lace. ' Since almost every erroneous system contains truth blended with falsehood, hence its tendency usually is, first, to recommend the falsehood on account of the truth combined with it, and afterwards, to bring the truth into contempt or odium on ac- count of the intermixture of falsehood. Essay xvii.] Annotations. 191 ' In no point is the record of past times more instructive to those capable of learning from other experience than their own, than in what relates to the history of reactions. 'It has been often remarked by geographers that a river flowing through a level country of soft alluvial soil never keeps a straight course, but winds regularly to and fro, in the form of the letter S many times repeated. And a geographer, on looking at the course of any stream as marked on a map, can at once tell whether it flows along a plain (like the river Meander which has given its name to such windings) or through a rocky and hilly couijtry. It is found, indeed, that if a straight channel be cut for any stream in a plain consisting of tolerably soft soil, it never w^ill long continue straight, unless artiflcially kept so, but becomes crooked, and increases its windings more and more every year. The cause is, that any little wearing away of the bank in the softest part of the soil, on one side, occasions a set of the stream against this hollow, which increases it, and at the same time drives the water aslant against the opposite bank a little lower dow^n. This w^ears away that bank also ; and thus the stream is again driven against a part of the first bank, still lower ; and so on, till by the w^earing away of the banks at these points on each side, and the deposit of mud (gradually becoming dry land) in the comparatively still water between them, the course of the stream becomes sinuous, and its windino;s increase more and more. ' And even thus, in human affairs, we find alternate move- ments, in nearly opposite directions, taking place from time to time, and generally bearing some proportion to each other in respect of the violence of each ; even as the highest flood-tide is succeeded by the lowest ebb. * "VVe flnd — ^in the case of political affairs, — that the most servile submission to privileged classes, and the grossest abuses of power by these, have been the precursors of the wildest ebullitions of popular fury, — of the overthrow indiscriminately of ancient institutions, good and bad, — and of the most turbulent democracy ; generally proportioned, in its extravagance and violence, to the degree of previous oppression and previous degradation. And again, w^e find that whenever men have become heartily wearied of licentious anarchy, their eagerness has been proportionably great to embrace the opposite extreme 192 Of Superstition. [Essay xvii. of ]-igorous despotism ; like sliij^wrecked mariners clinging to a bare and rno-o-ed rock as a ret'uo-e from the waves. ' And when we look to the history of religious clianges, the prospect is similar. Tlie formalism, the superstition, and the priestcraft which prevailed for so many ages throughout Chris- tendom, led, in many instances, by a natural reaction, to the wildest irregularities of fanaticism or profaneness. We find antinomian licentiousness in some instances the successor of the pretended merit of what were called ' good works ;' in others, the rejection altogether of the Christian Sacraments succeeding the superstitious abuse of them ; the legitimate claims of every visible Church utterly disowned by the descendants of those who had groaned under a spiritual tyranny ; pretensions to individual personal inspiration setVip by those who had revolted from that tyranny ; and in short, every variety of extravagance that was most contrasted with the excesses and abuses that had before prevailed.' i Sucli are the lessons which Reason and wide Experience would teach to those who ' have ears to hear,' and which the wisest men in various ages have laboured, and generally laboured in vain, to inculcate. For all Reason, all Experience, and the authority of all the wise, are too often powerless when opposed to excited party-spirit. We cannot, then, be too much on our guard against re- actions, lest we rush from one fault into another contrary fault. We should remember also that all admixture of truth witli error has a double danger : some admit both together ; others reject both. And hence, nothing is harmless that is mistaken either for a truth or for a virtue. In no point, we may be assured, is our spiritual enemy more vigilant. He is ever ready not merely to tempt us with the unmixed poison of known sin, but to corrupt even our food, and to taint even our medicine with the venom of his falsehood. For religion is the medicine of the soul ; it is the designed and appropriate preventive and remedy for the evils of our nature. The subtle Tempter well knows that no other allurements to sin would be of much avail, if +his medicine were assiduously applied, and applied in unadulterated purity ; and he knows that superstition is the specific poison which may be the most Essay xvii.] Annotations. easily blended with true religion, and wliicli will the most com- pletely destroy its ethcacy. It is for us then to take heed that the ' light which is in us be not darkness ;' that our religion be kept pure from the noxious admixture of superstition ; and it is for us to observe the errors of others with a view to our own correction, and to our own preservation, instead of contemplating ' the mote that is in our brother's eye, while we behold not the beam that is in our own eye.' Our conscience, if we carefully regulate, and diligently consult it, will be ready, after we have seen and con- demned (which is no hard task) the faults of our neighbour, to furnish us (where there is need) with that salutary admonition which the self-blinded King of Israel received from the mouth of the Prophet, ' Thou art the man.' 13 ESSAY XVIII. OF TRAVEL. npRAVEL, in the younger sort, is a part of education ; in -*- the elder, a part of experience. He that travelleth into a country before he hath some entrance into the language, goeth to school, and not to ti'avel. That young men travel under some tutor, or grave servant, I allow' well ; so that he he such a one that hath the language, and hath been in the country before ; whereby he may be able to tell tliem what things are worthy to be seen in the country where they go, what acquaint- ances they are to seek, what exercises or discipline the place yieldeth ; for else young men shall go hooded, and look abroad little. It is a strange thing that, in sea voyages, where there is nothing to be seen but sky and sea, men should make diaries ; but in land-travel, wherein so much is to be observed, for the most part they omit it — as if chance were fitter to be registered than observation : let diaries, therefore, be brought in use. The things to be seen and observed are the courts of princes, espe- cially when they give audience to ambassadors ; the courts of justice, while they sit and hear causes; and so of consistories ecclesiastic ; the churches and monasteries, with the monuments which are therein extant; the walls and fortifications of cities and towns ; and so the havens and harbours, antiquities and ruins, libraries, colleges, disputations and lectures, where any are ; shipping and navies ; houses and gardens of state and pleasure near great cities ; armories, arsenals, magazines, ex- changes, burses,^ warehouses, exercises of horsemanship, fencing, training of soldiers, and the like : comedies, such whereunto the better sort of persons do resort; treasuries of jewels and robes ; cabinets and rarities ; and, to conclude, whatsoever is memorable in the places where they go — after all which, the tutors or servants ought to make diligent inquiry. As for ' Allow. Approve. ' The Lord alloweth the righteous.' — Psalms. " Burse. Exchange ; bourse. (So called from the sign of a purse being anciently set over the jslaces where merchants met.) ' Fraternities and companies I approve of, such as merchants' burses' — Burton. Essay xviii.] Of Travel. 195 triuinphs,' masks, leasts, weddings, funerals, capital executions, and such shows, men need not be put in mind of them ; yet they are not to be neglected. If you will have a young man to put his travel into a little room, and in short time to gather much, this you must do : first, as was said, he must hav'e some entrance into the language before he goeth ; then he must have such a servant, or tutor, as knoweth the country, as was like- wise said ; let him carry with him also some card, or book, describing the country where he travelleth, which will be a good key to his inquiry ; let him keep also a diary; let him not stay long in one city or town, more or less as the place de- serveth, but not long ; nay, when he stayeth in one city or town, let him change his lodging from one end and part of the town to another, which is a great adamant'^ of acquaintance ; let him sequester himself from the company of his countrymen, and diet in such places where there is good company of the nation where he travelleth ; let him, upon his removes from one place to another, procure recommendation to some person of quality residing in the place whitlier he removeth, that he may use his favour in tliose things he desireth to see or know ; thus he may abridge his travel with much profit. As for the acquaintance which is to be sought in travel, that which is most of all profitable, is, acquaintance with the secretaries, and emploj^ed men of ambassadors ; for so in travelling in one country he shall suck the experience of many. Let him also see and visit eminent persons in all kinds, which are of great name abroad, that he may be able to tell how the life agreeth with the fame ; for quarrels, they are with care and discretion to be avoided — they are com- monly for mistresses, healths, place, and words : and let a man beware how he keepeth company with choleric and quarrelsome persons, for they will engage him into^ their own quarrels. When a traveller returneth home, let him not leave the coun- tries where he hath travelled altogether behind him, but main- ' Triumphs. Public shows of any kind. ' Hold those justs and triumphs.' — Shakespere. * Adamant, For loadstone. ' You drew me, you hard-hearted adamant.' — Shakespere. ' Into. In. ' How much more may education induce by custom good habits into a reasonable creature.' — Locke. 196 Of Travel. [Essay xviii. tain a correspondence by letters with those of his acquaintance which are of most worth ; and let his travel appear ralher in liig discourse, than in his apparel or gesture; and in his discourse let him be rather advised in his answers, than forward to tell stories : and let it appear that he doth not change his country manners for those of foreign parts, but only prick in some flowers of that' he hath learned abroad into the customs of his own country. ANNOTATIONS. ' Travel in the younger sort is a part of education ^ in the elder a iKirt of experience!! The well-known tale for young people, in the Evenings at Home., of 'Eyes and no Eyes,' might be applied to many travellers of opposite habits. But there are, moreover, not a few who may be said to be ' o/ie-eyed' travellers ; who see a great deal of some particular class of objects, and are blind to all others. One, for example, will have merely the eye of a landscape painter ; another, of a geologist, or a botanist ; another, of a politician ; jind so on. And the way in which some men's views are in tliis way limited, is sometimes very whimsical. For instance — A. B. was- a man of superior intelligence and extensive reading, especially in ancient history, which was his favourite study. lie travelled on the Continent, and especially in Italy, with an eager desire to verify the localities of celebrated battles and other transac- tions recorded by the Greek and Roman historians : and he suc- ceeded admirably in fixing on the exact spot of almost every feat performed by Hannibal. And when these researches, in each place, were completed, he hurried away without having, or seeking, any intercourse with any of the people now inhabiting Italy, or thinking it worth while to make any inquiries as to their character and social condition ; having set out with the 'That. Mliat ; tliat which. See page 72. Essay xviii.] Annotatlmis. 197 conviction tliat they were, and ever mnst be, quite nnwortliy of notice ; and having, of course, left Italy with the same opinion on that point, with which he entered it, knowing as much of its inhabitants as of those in the interior of Africa ; only, with the difference that, concerning the latter, he was aware of his own ignorance, and had formed no opinion at all. And travellers, who do seek for knowledge on any point, are to be warned against hasty induction and rash generalization, and consequent presumptuous conclusions. For instance, a lady who had passed six weeks in Jamaica, in the house of a friend, whom she described as eminently benevolent, and remarh- dhly kind to his slaves, spoke with scorn of any one who had heeii in the West Indies, and who doubted whether slaves were always well treated. And Goldsmith, who had travelled on the Continent, decided that the higher classes were better off in republics, but the lower classes in absolute monarchies. Had he lived a few years longer he might have seen the French populace, goaded to madness by their intense misery under the monarchy, rushing into that awful Revolution. During the short reign of Louis the Eighteenth, at his first restoration, a letter was recei\'ed (by a person Avho afterwards regretted not having kept it as a curious document) from the nejihew of one of our then ministers, saying that all the tra- vellers from France with whom he had convei'sed agreed in the conviction that the Bourbon Government was firmly fixed, and was daily gaining strength. The letter was dated on the very day that B^jonaparte was sailing from Elba ! And in a few days after, the Bourbons Avere expelled without a struggle. Those travellers must surely have belonged to the class of the one-eyed. It often happens that a man seeks, and obtains, much in- tercourse with the people of the country in which he travels, but falls in with only one jparticular set^ whom he takes for representatives of the whole nation. Accordingly, to Bacon's admonition about procuring letters of introduction, we should add a caution as to the point of ''from whomf or e^se the tra- veller may be consigned, as it were, to persons of some particular party, who will foriuard him to others, of their own j^arty, in the next city, and so on through the chief part of Euro]ie. And two persons who may have been thus treated, by those of 198 Of Traml. [Essay xviii. opposite parties, may perliaps return from corresponding tours with as opposite impressions of the people of the countries they have visited, as the knights in the fable, of whom one had seen only the silver side of the sliield, and the other only the golden. Both will perhaps record quite faithfully all they have seen and heard ; and one will have reported a certain nation as full of misery and complaint, and ripe for revolt, when the other has found them prosperous, sanguine, and enthusiastically loyal. In the days when travelling by post-chaise was common, there were usually certain lines of inns on all the principal roads ; a series of good, and a series of inferior ones, each in connexion all the way along ; so that if you once got into the worse line, you could not easily get out of it to the journey's end. The ' White Hart' of one town would di^ive you — almost literally — to the ' White Lion' of the next ; and so on, all the way ; so that of two travellers by post from London to Exeter or York, the one w^ould have had nothing but bad horses, bad dinners, and bad beds, and the other, very good. This is analo- gous to what befalls a traveller in any new country, with respect to the impressions he receives, if he falls into the hands of a party. They consign him, as it were, to those allied with them, and pass him on, from one to another, all in the same con- nexion, each showing him and telling him, just what suits the party, and concealing from him everything else. This is nowhere more the case than in Ireland ; from a tour in which two travellers will sometimes return, each faithfully reporting what he has seen and heard, and having been told perhaps nothing more than the truth on any point, but only one side of the truth ; and the impressions received will be perhaps quite opposite. The Irish jaunting-car, in which the passengers sit back to back, is a sort of type of what befalls many tourists in Ireland. Each sees a great deal, and reports faithfully what he has seen, one on one side of the road, and the other on the other. One will have seen all that is green, and the other, all that is orange. It often, indeed, happens that men place themselves know- ingly and wilfully in the hands of a party. But sometimes they are, from one cause or another, deluded into it, when they have no such thought. This sometimes takes place through the Essay xviii.] Annotations. 109 ambiguity of words. For instance, if tlie designation by wliicli, in some parts of tlie Continent, Protestants are usually known, as distinguished from Romanists, happens to be with us the title denoting a certain ^arty in a Protestant Church, a foreign Protestant, coming among, us, or holding intercourse with us, is likely to throw himself into the arms of that party whom, from the natne, he supposes to comprise all who agree with him in religion. ESSAY XIX. OF EMPIHE. TT is a miserable state of mind to have few things to desire, -*- and many things to fear ; and yet that commonly is the case with kings, who being at the highest, want matter of desire, which makes their minds more languishing, and have many representations of perils and shadows, which make their minds the less clear : and this is one reason also of that effect which the Scripture speaketh of, ' That the king's heart is inscrutable ;" for multitude of jealousies, and lack of some predominant desire, that should marshal and put in order all the rest, maketh any man's heart hard to find or sound. Hence it comes likewise, that princes many times make themselves desires, and set their hearts upon toys ; sometimes upon a building ; sometimes upon erecting of an Order ; sometimes upon the advancing of a person ; sometimes upon obtaining excellency in some art, or feat of the hand — as Nero for playing on the harp ; Domitian for certainty of the hand with the arrow ; Commodus for play- ing at fence ; Caracalla for driving chariots ; and the like. This seemeth incredible unto those that know not the principle, that the mind of man is more cheered and refreshed by profiting in small things, than by standing at a stay'' in great. We see also that kings that have been fortunate conquerors in their first years, it being not possible for them to go forward infinitely, but that they must have some check or arrest in their fortunes, turn in their latter years to be superstitious and melancholy ; as did Alexander the Great, Dioclesian, and in our memory Charles V., and others ; for he that is used to go forward, and findeth a stop, falleth out of his own favour, and is not the thing he was. To speak now of the true temper' of empire, it is a thing rare and hard to keep, for both temper and distemper consist of contraries ; but it is one thing to mingle contraries, another ^ Prov. XXV. 3. ' Stand at a stay. To stand still ; not to advance. ' Affairs of state seemed rather to stand at a stay than to advance or decline.' — Hayward. ' Temper. Due balance of qualities. ' Health itself is but a kind of temper, gotten and preserved by a convenient mixture of contrarieties.' — Arbnthnot. ' Between two blades, wliich bears the better temper ?' — Shakespere, Essay xix.] Of Emj^re. 201 to interchange them. The answer of Apolloniiis to Yespasian is full of excellent instruction. Vespasian asked him, ' What was Nero's overthrow V He answered, ' Nero could touch and tune the harp well, but in government sometimes he used to wind the pins too high, sometimes to let them down too low ;" and certain it is, that nothing destroyeth authority so much as the unequal and untimely interchange, of power pressed too far, and relaxed too much.^,' Tliis is true, that the wisdom of all these latter times in princes' aiiairs, is rather line deliveries, and shiftings of dangers and mischiefs, when they are near, than solid and grounded courses to keep them aloof; but this is but to try masteries with for- tune ; and let men beware how they neglect and suffer matter of trouble to be prepared ; for no man can forbid the spark, nor tell whence it may come. The difficulties in princes' business are many and great, but the greatest difficulty is often in their own mind ; for it is common with princes (saith Tacitus) to will contradictories : ' Sunt plerumque regum voluntates vehementes, et inter se contrariae.'* For it is the solecism of power to think to command the end, and yet not to endure the mean.' Kings have to deal with their neighbours, their wives, their children, their prelates or clergy, their nobles, their second nobles or gentlemen, their merchants, their commons, and their men of war ;* and from all these arise dangers, if care and cir- cumspection be not used. First, for their neighbours, there can no general rule be given (the occasions are so variable), save one which ever holdeth — which is, that princes do keep due sentinel, that none of their neighbours do overgrow so (by increase of territory, by embracing of trade, by approaches, or the like,) as^ they become moi-e able to annoy them than they were ; and this is generally the work of standing councils to foresee and to hinder it. During that triumvirate of kings. King Heniy VIII. of England, * Pliilost. V,it. Apoll. Tyan. v. 28. " The will of kings is, for the most part, vehement and inconsistent.' — Sallust, B. J. 113. (Not Tacitus.) " Mean. Means. 'The virtuous conversation of Christians was a meari to work the conversion of the heathen to Christ.' — Hooker. * Men of war (now only applied to ships.) Warriws ; soldiers. 'And Saul set him over the ineii of war.' — 1 Sa7)i, xviii, 5. ' As. 77(aL See page 23. 202 Of Errvpire. [Essay xix. Francis L, king of France, and Charles Y., emperor, tliere was such a watch kept that none of the three could win a palm' of ground, but the other two would straightways* balance it, either by confederation, or, if need were, by a war, and would not in any wise take up peace at interest ; and the like was done by that league (which Guicciardine saith was the security of Italy,) made between Ferdinando, king of Naples, Lorenzius Medices, and Ludovicus Sforsa, potentates, the one of Florence, the other of Milan. Neither is the opinion of some of the schoolmen to be received, that a war cannot justly be made, but upon a pre- cedent^ iiiji^y 01' provocation ; for there is no question but a just fear of an imminent danger, though there be no blow given, is a lawful cause of war. For their wives, there are cruel examples of them. Livia is infamed* for the poisoning of her husband ; Koxolana, Soly- man's wife, was the destruction of that renowned prince. Sultan Mustapha, and otherwise troubled his house and succession ; Edward 11. of England's queen had the principal hand in the deposing and murder of her husband. This kind of danger is then to be feared chiefly when the wives have plots for the raising of their own children, or else that they be advoutresses.* For their children, the tragedies likewise of dangers from them have been many ; and generally the entering of the fathers into suspicion of their children hath been ever unfor- tunate. The destruction of Mustapha (that we named before) was so fatal to Solyman's line, as the succession of the Turks from Solyman until this day is suspected to be untrue, and of strange blood, for that Selymus II. was thought to be supposi- ' Palm. Hand's breadth. ' Thepalm, or hand's breadth, is a twenty-fourth part of the stature.' — Holder. * Straightways. Immediately. ' Like to a ship that having 'scap'd a tempest, Is straightway claim'd and boarded with a pirate.' — Shakespere. ' Precedent. Preceding. ' Do it at once, Or thy precedent services are all But accidents unpurposed.' — Shakeftpere. * Infaraed. Infamous. ' Whosoever for any offence be infamed, by their ears hang rings of gold.' — Sir T. More. * Advoutress. Adulteress. (So called from breach of the marriage-vow.) ' In advoutry God's commandments break.' — Song, 1550. Essay xix.] Of Emjnre. 203 titious. The destruction of Crispus, a young prince of rare towardness/ by Constantinns the Great, his father, was in like manner fatal to his house, for both Constantinus and Constance, his sons, died violent deaths ; and Constantius, his other son, did little better, who died indeed of sickness, but after that Julianus had taken arms against him. The destruction of Demetrius, son to Philip II. of Macedon, tiirned upon the father, who died of repentance : and many like examples there are, but few or none where the fathers had good by such dis- trust, except it were where the sons were in open arms against them, as was Selymus I. against Bajazet, and the three sons of Henry II., king of England. For their prelates, when they are proud and great, there is also danger from them ; as it w^as in the times of Anselmus and Thomas Beckett, archbishops of Canterbury, who, with their crosiers, did almost try it with the king's sword ; and yet they had to deal with stout and haughty kings — William Kufus, Henry I., and Henry II. The danger is not from that estate,'^ but where it hath a dependence of foreign authority, or where the churchmen come in and are elected, not by the collation of the king, or particular patrons, but by the people. For their nobles, to keep them at a distance, it is not amiss ; but to depress them may make a king more absolute, but less safe, and less able to perform anything that he desires. I have noted it in my history of King Henry VII. of England, who depressed his nobility, whereupon it came to pass, that his times were full of difficulties and troubles ; for the nobility, though they continued loyal unto him, yet did they not co-operate with him in his business — so that in eifect he was fain' to do all things himself. For their second nobles, there is not much danger from them, being a body dispersed : they may sometimes discourse high but that doth little hurt ; besides, they are a counterpoise to the higher nobility, that they grow not too potent ; and, lastly, * Towardness. Docility. ' He proved in his youth a personage of great toward- ness, and such as no small hope of him was conceived.' — Holinshed. ^ Estate. Order of rnen. ' All the estate of the elders.' — Acts x.\ii. 5. 'Fain. Compelled; constrained. 'Whosoever will hear, he shall find God; whosoever will study to know, shall be x(\?,o fain to believe.' — Hooker. ' I was fain to forswear it.' — Shakespere. 204 Of Empire. [Essay xix, being the most immediate in authority with the common people, they do best temper popular commotions. For their merchants, they are vena porta^ and if they flourish not, a kingdom may have good limbs, but will have empty veins, and nourish little. Taxes and imposts upon them do seldom good to the king's revenue, for that which he wins in the hun- dred' he loseth in the shire : the particular rates being increased, but the total bulk of trading rather decreased. For their commons, there is little danger from them, except it be where they have great and potent heads, or where you meddle with the point of religion, or their customs, or means of life. For their men of war, it is a dangerous state where they live and remain in a Body, and are used to donatives, whereof we see examples in the janizaries and pretorian bands of Rome ; but trainings of men, and arming them in several places, and under several commanders, and without donatives, are things of de- fence, and no danger. Princes ai'e like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil times ; and which have much veneration, but no rest. All precepts concerning kings are in effect comprehended in those two remembrances :^ ' Memento quod es homo,' and ' Memento quod es Deus,' or ' vice Dei' — the one bridleth their power, and the other their will. ANTITHETA ON EMPIRE. Pro. Contra. ' Felicitate frui, magnum bonum est ; 'Quam miserum, liabere nil fere, eed earn et aliis impertiri posse, adhuc quod appetas ; infinita, quse Tnetuas. majus. ' Horn wretched is he who has hardly ' To enjoy happiness is a great good ; anything to hope, and many tilings to hut to be able to confer it also on others fear.' is a greater still.' ' ' Tlie great vein of the body.' * Hundred. A division of a county. 'Lands taken from the enemy were divided into centuries or hundreds, and distributed amongst the soldiers.' — . Arbicthnot. * ' Remember that thou art man,' and ' Remember that thou art God — or God's vice-srerent.' Essay xix.] Annotations. 205 ANNOTATIONS. Some pei'soiis, pretending to superior acnteness, are accns- tonied to represent the Sovereign, under the British Const itu- tioii, as a mere cypher, — a kind of puppet, moving as the strings are jiulled, and possessing the sembhmce of power without any real power. The Sovereign, tliey say, though called ' Supi'eme,' can. do nothing without his Ministers, who are virtually elected by the people, since no Minister can hold otfice for more than a very short time, without a majority in the House of Com- mons ; the members of which aie dependent on the will of their constituents. The only difference, therefore, they say, between our Government and that of the United States, is that they elect their Pi-emier (under the title of President) once in four years, and we, as often as we think fit. Tliis, by the way, would of itself constitute a difference of no small importance. For, every one would see that there would be a great difference between two steam-engines, one, ]ir«>vided (as is the actual practice) with a safety-valm which is foi'ced open tohenever the pressure exceeds a certain degree, and not otherwise, and the other having only a vent-hole opened at certain fixed times, always opened at those times, and always closed during the intervals. But this difference, though veiy important, is far from being the sole, or the principal one. When, indeed, it hapi)ens that tlie ])ublic will is nearly unanimous — that the whole, or nearly the whole, nation are bent on some point of policy, or on the ap- pointment or the exclusion of a certain Ministry, a compliance with tjieir will is unavoidable. But in all cases (and these are the more numerous) in which there is a division in the poi)ular will, and the opponents and supporters of certain measures or men are nearly equal, the Sovereign has, as it were, the casting voice, and can decide freely on the one side or on tjie other. Not only when there is a perfect equality of strength between two asi)irants to office, can the Sovereign chuse whichever he will; but he can even bring into office a!id retain in office a Ministry which, if the question had been put to the vote in a popular 206 Of Empire. [Essay xix. election, would have been in a minority, though a very large minority. There have been in the United States several elections of President, in which the candidates were so nearly equal, that no one can doubt that if the Americans had had the same con- stitution as ours, the Sovereign might have fixed on either as Premier. !Now, this is undoubtedly a matter of practical im- portance ; and whether it be thought a good or an evil that our Sovereign should have such a power, that he does possess it, and that it is no trifle, is evident. If, therefore, our Sovereign is to be accounted a cyj)her^ it must be, not in the sense in which that metaphor is ordinarily applied, but in a stricter sense. A cypher, — a mere round 0, — stands for nothing by itself ' but adds tenfold to whatever figures are placed before it. And even so, our Sovereign, if standing alone, and at variance in his political views with all his subjects, or nearly all of them, is powerless; but as a sup- porter of this or of that person, party, or measui-e, that may be favoured by a considerable portion of his subjects, he may give the preponderance to either. 5 is less than 6 ; but 50, i. e. 5 with a cypher added, is more. And after all, the same kind of check (in a minor degree, and in a less convenient form) on the power of the Sovereign must exist even under a despotism. No despot can long govern com- pletely against the will of nearly all those of his subjects — whetlier the People or the Army — who possess the physical force. A Dey in Barbary must have some — and these not in- considerable in number — to execute his commands. He may, however, go on misgoverning longer than a constitutional king could do ; and the check comes at last, not in the shape of a remonstrance, on which he might amend, but of a bowstring or a dagger. On the whole, the degree, and the kind of regal power, and of check to that power, existing under our constitution, are what the most judicious will perceive to be the best adapted to give steadiness to an administration, and to moderate the vio- lence of political agitations in the most effectual way that is consistent with the liberty we enjoy. ' We combine the advan- tages of diff'erent foi-ms by having a king holding the office of i Essaj xix.] Annotations. 207 highest digiiitv, which no one of a different family can aspire to, and remaining Jixed, under all changes of Ministei's and Parliaments, and yet restrained by Parliament from oppressing his subjects, or disregarding their wishes. ' No good king will feel himself lowered in point of dignity by snch restraints; but the contrary. For as it is a nobler of- fice to have the command of even a small number of men than a lai'ge herd of cattle, so it is more honourable to be the ruler of a free People than the absolute master of a multitude of slaves. ' And moreover, in an absolute monarchy, a wise and worthy king, who had laboured hard for the welfare of his People, would be grieved at the thought that some of his successors, who might be foolish and tyrannical, would undo all the good he had been doing. ' It should be remembered, too, that a certain degree of resti-aint on the power of a Puler is the best safeguard against the danger of a Revolutioii^ M-liich might destroy his power altogether ; as the experience of what has often taken place in Europe, and other quarters of the world, plainly shows. ' This is set forth in the following fable : — ( " Once on a time a paper kite Was mounted to a wondrous height, Where, giddy with its elevation, It thus expressed self-admiration : 'See how yon crowds of gazing people Admire my flight above the steeple ; How would they wonder if they knew All that a kite like me can do ? Were I but free, I'd take a flight. And pierce the clouds beyond their sight; But ah ! like a poor pris'ner bound. My string confines me near the ground ; I'd brave the eagle's tow'ring wing. Might I but fly without a string.' It tugged and pull'd, while thus it spoke, To break the string — at last it broke ; Depriv'd at once of all its stay, In vain it try'd to soar away ; Unable its own weight to bear. It flutter'd downward in the air; Unable its own course to guide. The winds soon plung'd it in the tide. 208 Of Empire [Essay xix. Ah ! foolish kite, thou hndst no -wing; How couldst thou fly without a string ? Sovereigns, who wisli to cast aweiy Wholesome restraints upon jour sway. Be taught in time, that moderation Will best secure your lofty station. Who soars uncheck'd may find too late A sudden downfall is his fate.' 'There are many persons now living who can remember the ifcime when ahnost all the countries of Europe, except our own, were under absolute governments. Since then, most of those countries have passed through, at least, one or two, and some of them six or seven, violent and bloody revolutions ; and none of them, even yet, have settled under a constitution which even the people of those States themselves would think better than ours, if as good.' ' ^ This passage is from Lessons on the British Constitution, L. ii. § 2. ESSAY XX. OF COUNSEL. T^HE greatest trust between man and man, is the trust of -■- giving counsel ; for in other conlidences men commit the parts of life, their lands, their goods, their chikb-en, their credit, some particular affair ; but to such as they make their counsellors they commit the whole — by how much the more they are obliged to all faith and integrity. The wisest princes need not think it any diminution to their greatness, or deroga- tion to their sufficiency, to rely upon counsel. God himself is not without, but hath made it one of the great names of the blessed Son, the 'Counsellor." Solomon hath pronounced that 'in counsel is stability.'^ Things will have their first or second agitation ; if they be not tossed upon the arguments of counsel, they will be tossed upon the waves of fortune, and be full of inconstanc}^, doing and undoing, like the reeling of a druuken man. Solomon's son found the force of counsel, as his father saw the necessity of it : for the beloved kingdom of God was first rent and broken by ill counsel — upon which counsel there are set for our instruction the two marks whereby bad counsel is for ever best discerned, that it was young counsel for the persons, and violent counsel for the matter. The ancient times do set forth in figure both the incor})ora- tion and inseparable conjunction of counsel with Kings, and the wise and politic use of counsel by Kings ; the one, in tliat they say Jupiter did marry Metis, which signifieth counsel, whereby they intend that sovereignty is married to counsel ; the other in that which followeth, which was thus : — they say, after Jupiter was married to Metis, she conceived by him and was with child, but Jupiter suffered her not to stay till she brought forth, but ate her up, Avhereby he became himself with child, and was delivered of Pallas armed out of his head.' Which monstrous fable containeth a secret of empire how kings are to make use of their counsel of state — that first, they ought to refer matters unto them, which is the first begetting or impreg- nation : but when they are elaborate, moulded, and shaped in ' Isaiah ix 6. " Prov. xx. 18. * Hesiod. Tlicog. 886. 14 210 Of Counsel. [Essay xx. the womb of tlieir council, and grow ripe and ready to be brought forth, that then they sutfer not their council to go through with the resolution' and direction, as if it depended on them, but take the matter back into their own hands, and make it appear to the world, that the decrees and final directions (whicli, because they come forth with prudence and power, are resembled to Pallas armed) proceeded from themselves, and not only from their authority, but (the more to add reputation to themselves) from their head and device. Let us now sjieak of the inconveniences of counsel, and of the remedies. The inconveniences that have been noted in calling and using counsel, are three : — ^first the re- vealing of affairs, whereby they become less secret ; secondly, the weakening of the authority of princes, as if they were less of themselves ; thirdly, the danger of being unfaith- fully counselled, and more for the good of them that counsel, than of him that is counselled — for which inconveniences, the doctrine of Italy, and practice of France, in some kings' times, had introduced cabinet councils — a remedy worse than the disease. As to secrecy, princes are not bound to communicate all matters with all counsellors, but may extract and select — neither is it necessary, that he that consulteth what he should do, should declare what he will do ; but let princes beware that the unsecreting'' of their affairs comes not from themselves : and as for cabinet councils, it may be their motto, 'Plenus rimarura Bum." One futile" person, that maketh it his glory to tell, will do more hurt than many that know it their duty to conceal. It is true there be some affairs which require extreme seci'ecy, which will hardly go beyond one or two persons besides the king — neither are those counsels unprosj)erous, — for, besides the * Kesolution. Final decision. ' r the progress of this business. Ere a determinate renolution, Tlie bishojis did require a respite.' — Shakespere. ' Unsecreting. The disclosing ; the diinilging. Shakespere has the adjective nnsecret:' ' Why have I blabbed ? Who should be true to us When we are so unseeret to ourselves ?' — Shakespere. 3 'Full of chinks am I.'— Ter. Eun. 1. 11, 25. * Futile. Talkative. See page 72. Essay xx.] Of Counsel. 211 secrecy, they commonly go on constantly in one spirit of direc- tion without distraction ; but then it must be a prudent king, such as is able to grind with a hand-mill — and those inward' counsellors had need also be wise men, and especially true and trusty to the king's ends, as it was with King Henry VII, of England, who in his greatest business imparted himself to none, except it were to Morton and Fox. For weakness of authority the fable showeth the remedy- nay, the majesty of kings is rather exalted than diminished when they are in the chair of council, — neither was there ever prince bereaved of his dependencies by his council, except where there hath been either an over-greatness in one counsellor, or an over-strict combination in divers,^ which are things soon found and holpen.^ For the last inconvenience, that men will counsel with an eye to themselves ; certainly, ' Non inveniet lidem super tei"- ram,''' is meant of the nature of times, and not of all particular persons. There be that are in nature faithful and sincere, and plain and direct, not crafty and involved — let princes, above all, draw to themselves such natures. Besides, counsellors are not commonly so united but that one counsellor keepeth sentinel over another ; so that if any counsel out of faction or private ends, it commonly comes to the king's ear : but the best remedy is, if princes know their counsellors, as well as their counsellors know them : — ' Prineipis est virtus maxima misse suos.'^ And on the other side, counsellors should not be too specula- tive into their sovereign's person. The true composition of a counsellor is, rather to be skilful in his master's business than in his nature ; for then he is like to advise him, and not to feed his humour. It is of singular use to princes if they take the opinions of their council both separately and together ; for pri- vate opinion is more free, but opinion before others is more reverend. In private, men are more bold in their own humoure, ■ Inward. Intimate. ' All my inward friends abhorred me.' — Job. xLv. 19. ' Divers. Several ; sundry. 'Divers new opinions, divei-se and dangerous.' — Shakespere. * Holpen. Helped. ' They shall be holpcn with a little help.' — Dan. xL 34. * 'He will not find faith upon the eartii.' — Luke xviii. 18. * 'The greatest virtue of a prince is to know his man.' 212 Of Counsel. [Essay xx. and, in consort/ men are more obnoxious to others' humours, therefore it is good to take both — and of the inferior sort, rather in private to preserve freedom, — of the greater, rather in consort to preserve respect. It is in vain for princes to take counsel concerning matters, if they take no counsel likewise concerning persons — ^for all matters are as dead images, and the life of the execution of affairs resteth in the good choice of ])ersons ; neither is it enough to consult concerning persons, 'secundum genera,'^ as in an idea of mathematical description, what the kind and character of the person should be ; for the greatest errors are committed, and the most judgment is shown, in the choice of individuals. It was truly said, ' Optimi con- siliarii mortui" — 'Books will speak plain when counsellors blanch,' therefore it is good to be conversant in them, specially the books of such as themselves have been the actors upon the stage. The councils at this day in most places are but familiar meetings, where matters are rather talked on than debated; and they run too swift to the order or act of council. It were better that, in causes of weight, the matter were propounded one day, and not spoken to till next day, ' in nocte consilium ;'* so was it done in the commission of union between England and Scotland, which was a grave and orderly assembly. I commend set days for petitions ; for both it gives the suitors more certainty for their attendance and it frees the meetings for matters of estate,^ that they may ' hoc agere.'" In choice of committees for ripening business for the council, it is better to chuse indifferent' persons, than to make an indiffcrency by putting in those that are strong on both sides. I commend also standing commissions ; as for trade, for treasure, for war, ' Consort. Assemhly ; council. ' In one consort there sat, Cruel Revenge, and rancorous Despite, Disloyal Treason, and heart-burning Hate.' — Spenser. * According to their kinds. ' ' The dead are the best counsellors. * In niglit is counsel. " Matters of estate. Public Affairs. ' I hear her talk of matters of estate, and the Senate.' — Ben Jonson. * Do this one thing. ' Indifferent. Neutral ; not inclined to one side more than another. ' Cato knows neither of them. Indifferent in his choice to sleep or die.' — Addison. I J Essay xx.] Annotations. 213 for suits, for some jDrovinces ; for where there be divers par- ticuhir councils, and but one council of estate (as it is in Spain,) they are, in efiect, no more than standing commissions, save' that they have greater authority. Let such as are to inform councils out of their particular professions (as lawyers, seamen, mintmen,^ and the like,) be iirst heard before committees, and then, as occasion serves, before the council ; and let them not come in multitudes, or in a tribunitious manner, for that is to clamour' councils, not to inform them. A long table and a square table, or seats about the walls, seem things of form, but are things of substance ; for at a long table, a few at the upper end, in elfect, sway all the business ; but in the other form there is more use of the counsellors' opinions that sit lower. A king, when he presides in council, let him beware how he opens his own inclination too much in that which he pro- poundeth ; for else counsellors will but take the wind of him, and instead of giving free counsel, will sing him a song of ' placebo.' ANNOTATIONS. ' It is heiter to chuse indifferent persons, than to malce an in- differency hy putting in tJwse that are strong on hoth sides.'' Bacon is here speaking of committees ; but there is, in refe- rence to all legislative assemblies a very general apprehension of a complete preponderance of some extreme party ; which arises, T conceive, from not taking into account the influence which, in every assembly, and every society, is ahvays exercised (except in some few cases of very extraordinary excitement, * Save. Except ' Of the Jews five times received I forty stripes, save one.' — 2 Cm: xi. '^ jMintman. Skilled in coinage. 'He that thinketh Spain to be some e;reat overmatch for this estate, is no good mintman, but takes greatness of kingdoms according to their bulk and currency, and not after their inti-insic value.' — Bacon's War with Spain. ' Clamour. To stun with noise. (Rarely used as an active verb.) ' Clamour your tongues.' — Shakespere. 214 Of Counsel. [Essay xx. and almost of temporary disorganization) by those who are in a minority. On this subject I take leave to extract a passage from The Kingdom of Christ.^ ' It might appear at first sight — and such is usually the ex- pectation of a child of ordinary intelligence, and of all those who are deficient in an intelligent study of history, or observa- tion of what is passing in the world — that whatever party might in any meeting or in any community, obtain a inajority, or in whatever other way, a superiority., would be certain to carry out their own principles to the utmost, with a total dis- regard of all the rest ; so that in a senate for instance, con- sisting, suppose, of 100 members, a majority, whether of 51 to 49, or of 70 to 30, or of 95 to 5, would proceed in all respects as if the others had no existence : and that no mutual con- cessions or compromises could take place except between parties exactly balanced. In like manner a person wholly ignorant of Mechanics might suppose that a body acted on by several unequal forces in different directions would obey altogether the strongest, and would move in the direction of that ; instead of moving, as w^e know it ordinarily does, in a direction not coin- ciding with any one of them. 'And experience shows that in human afl:airs as well as in Mechanics, such expectations are not well founded. If no tolerably wise and good measures were ever carried except in an assembly where there was a complete predominance of men sufficiently enlightened and public-spirited to have a decided preference for those measures above all others, the world would, I conceive, be much worse governed than it really is. 'No doubt, the larger the proportion of judicious and pat- riotic individuals, the better for the community; but it seems to be the appointment of Providence that the prejudices, and passions, and interests of different men should be so various as not only to keep one another somewhat in check, but often to bring about, or greatly help to bring about, m,ixed results, often far preferable to anything devised or aimed at by any of the parties. ' The British Constitution, for instance, no intelligent reader ' Kingdom of Christ. 4th edition, Appendix to Efsay ii. note 0, pp. 348, 349, 351, 352. Essay xx.] Annotations. 215 of history would regard as wholly or chiefly the work of men fully sensible of the advantages of a government so mixed and bahmced. It was in great measure the result of the efforts, partially neutralizing each other, of men who leaned, more or less, some of them towards pure Monarchy, and others towards Republicanism. And again, though no one can doubt how great an advance (it is as yet only an advance) of the principle of religious toleration^ and of making a final appeal to Scriptare alone^ is due to the Reformation, yet the Reformers were slow in embracing these principles. They were at first nearly as much disposed as their opponents to force their own interpreta- tions of Scripture on every one, and to call in the magistrate to suppress heresy by force. But not being able to agree among themselves whose interpretation of Scripture should be received as authoritative, and wJio should be entrusted with the sword that was to extirpate heresy, compromises and mutual concessions gradually led more and more to the practical adoption of principles whose theoretical truth and justice is, even yet, not universally perceived. ' And similar instances may be found in every part of history. Without entering into a detailed examination of the particular mode in which, on each occasion, a superior party is influenced by those opposed to them — either from reluctance to drive them to desperation, or otherwise, — certain it is, that, looking only to the results, — the practical working of any government, — in the long run, and in the general course of measures, — we do find something corresponding to the composition of forces in Me- chanics ; and we find oftener than not, that the course actually pursued is better (however faulty) than could have been cal- culated from the character of the greater part of those who administer the government. The wisest and most moderate, even when they form but a small minority, are often enabled amidst the confiict of those in opposite extremes, to bring about decisions, less wise and just indeed than they themselves would have desired, but far better than those of either of the extreme parties. ' Of course we are not to expect the same exact uniformity of efi'ects in human aff'airs as in Mechanics. It is not meant that each decision of every Assembly or Body of men will necessarily be the precise 'resultant' (as it is called in Natural Philosophy) 216 Of Coimsel. [Essay xx. of the several forces operating, — the various parties existing in the Assembly. Some one or two votes will occasionally be passed, by a majority — perhaps by no very large majority, — in Utter defiance of the sentiments of the rest. But in the long run — in any course of enactments or proceedings, — some degree of influence will seldom fail to be exercised by those who are in a minority. This influence, again, will not always correspond, in kind, and in degree, with what takes place in Mechanics. For instance, in the material world, the impulses whicli keep a body motionless must be exactly opposite^ and exactly halaneed ; but in human affairs, it will often happen that there may be a considerable majority in favour of taking some step, or making some enactment, yet a disagi-eement as to some details will give a preponderance to a smaller party who are against any such stej). When the majority, for example, of a garrison are dis- posed to make an attack on the besiegers, but are not agreed as to the time and mode of it, the decision may be on the side of a minority who deem it better to remain on the defensive. Accordingly, it is matter of common remark that a ' Council of War' rarely ends in a resolution to flght a battle. ' The results of this cause are sometimes evil, and sometimes — ^perhaps more frequently — good. Many troublesome and per- nicious restrictions and enactments, as well as some beneficial ones, are in this way prevented. 'And again the delay and discussion which ensue when powerful parties are at all nearly balanced, afiord an opening for arguments : and this, on the whole, and in the long I'un, gives an advantage (more or less, according to the state of intellectual culture and civilization) to the most M'ise and moderate, — in short, to those (even though but a small portion, numerically, of the assembly) who have the best arguments on their side. Some, in each of the opposed parties, may thus be influenced by reason, who would not have waited to listen to reason, but for the check they receive from each other. And thus it will sometimes happen that a result may ensue even better than could have been calculated from the mere mechanical computation of the acting forces.' The above views are the more important, because any one who does not embrace them, will be likely, on contemplating any wise institution or enactment of former times^ to be thrown Essay xx.] Annotations. Ill into indolent despondency, if he find, as he often will, that the majority of those around as do not seem to come up to the standard which those institutions and enactments appear to him to imply. He takes for granted that the whole, or the chief part, of the members of those assemblies, &c., in which 8uch and such measures were carried, must have been men of a corresponding degree of good sense, and moderation, and public spirit : and perceiving (as he thinks) that an assembly of such men could not now be found, he concludes that wisdom and goodness (in governments at least) must have died with our ancestors ; or at least that no good is at jyresent to be hoped from any government. And yet perhaps the truth will be that the greater part of the very assemblies wdiose measures he is admiring may have consisted of men of several parties, each of which would, 'if left entirely to itself have made a much woi-se decision than the one actually adopted ; and that one may have been such, as, though not actually to coincide with, yet most nearly to approach to the opinions of the wisest and best members of the assembly, though those may have been but a small minority. And it may be therefore, that he may have around him the materials of an assembly not at all inferior in probity or intelligence to that which he is contemplating with despairing admiration. ^ A Mng^ wJien he presides in council ' It is remarkable how a change of very great importance in our system of government was brought about by pure accident. The custom of the king's being present in a cabinet council of his ministers, which was the obvious, and had always been the usual state of things, was put an end to when the Hanoverian princes came to the throne, from their ignorance of the English language. The advantage thence resulting of ministers laying before the sovereig-n the result of their full and free delibera- tions — an advantage not at all originally contemplated, — caused the custom to be continued, and so established that it is most tmhkely it should ever be changed. ESSAY XXI. OF DELAYS. TT^ORTUNE is like the market, where, many times, if you can ■^ stay a little, the price will fall ; and again, it is sometimes like Sibylla's' offer, which at first offereth the commodity at full, then consumeth part and part, and still holdeth up the price ; for occasion (as it is in the common verse) turneth a bald noddle after she hath presented her locks in front, and no hold taken ; or, at least, turneth the handle of the bottle first to be received, and after the belly,'^ which is hard to clasp.' There is surely no greater wisdom than well to time the begin- nings and onsets of things. Dangers are no more light, if they once seem liglit ; and more dangers have deceived men than forced them : nay, it were better to meet some dangers half way, though they come nothing near, than to keep too long a watch upon their approaches ; for if a man watch too long, it is odds he will fall asleep. On the other side, to be deceived with too long shadows (as some have been when the moon was low, and shone on their enemies' backs), and so to shoot off before the time, or to teach dangers to come on, by over-early buckling' towards them, is anotlier extreme. The ripeness or unripeness of the occasion (as we said) must ever be well weighed ; and generally it is good to commit the beginnings of all great actions to Argus with his hundred eyes, and the ends to Briareus with his hundred hands — first to watch, and then to speed ; for the helmet of Pluto," which maketli the politic man go invisible, is secrecy in the counsel, and celerity in the execution ; for when things are once come to the execution, there is no secrecy comparable to celeritj^ — like the motion of a bullet in the air, which flieth so swift as it outruns the eye. ' Sibylla. The Sibyl. ' Belly. That protuberance or cavity of anything resembling the human belly. * An Irish harp hath the concave, or belly, at the end of the strings.' — Bacon, Nat. Hist. ^ Phted. viii. * Buckle. To go ; to hasten towards. ' Soon he buckled to the field.' — Spenser: ^ Homer, R y. 845. Essay xxi.J Annotations. 219 ANTITHETA ON DELAYS. Pko. Contra. 'Fortuna multa festinanti vendit, ' Oceasio, instar Sibyllse, miiuiit obla- quibus morantem donat. turn, pretiuni aiiget. ' Fortune often sells to the hasty ' Opportmiiti/, like the Sibi/l, dimi- what she gives to those who wait.' nishes her offering, and increases her price, at each visit.' ' Celeritas, Orci galea. ' Speed is the helmet of Pluto.' AISnSTOTATIONS. This matter of ' Delays' is most emphatically one in which, as Sir Roger de Coverley might have decided, much may be said on both sides. The rules which Bacon does give are very good ; but, as it has been well observed, ' genius begins where rules end,' and there is no matter wherein rules can go a less way, or wherein there is more call for what may be called practical genius : that is, a far-sighted sagacity, as to the probable results of taking or not taking a certain step, and a delicate tact in judging of the peculiar circumstances of each case. It is important to keep in mind that in some cases, where (as Bacon has expressed it) ' not to decide is to decide,' a delay may amount to a wrong decision ; and in otlier cases may at least produce serious evil. Thus, there was once a very learned and acute Lord Chancellor, none of whose decisions, I believe, were ever reversed, but who very often decided, virtually, against hoth parties, by delaying his decision till both were beggared by law-expenses, and broken down in mind and body by anxious care. And he delayed tilling up livings for two or three years, or more, to the great detriment of the j)arish, and sometimes with heavy loss of the revenue of the benefice. The greater part of men are bigots to one or the other of the opposite systems, — of delay, or of expedition ; always for acting either on the maxim of ' never put off till to-morrow what can be done to-day,' or, on the opposite one, which is said to have been in the mouth of Talleyrand, ' never do to-day what can be done to-morrow.' But still worse are those mock-wise men who mingle the 220 Of Delays. [Essay xxi. two systems together, and are slow and quick just in the same degree that a really wise man is ; only, in the wrong places : who make tlieir decisions hastily, and are slow in the execution ; begin in a hurry, and are dilatory in proceeding ; who unmask their battery hastily, and then think of loading their guns; who cut their coi-n green, (according to the French proverbial ex- pression of 'mauger son ble en herbe,') and let their fruit hang to ripen till it has been blown down by the winds and is rotting on the ground. ' The ripeoiess or wnrijpeness of the occasion must ever he well weighed.'' It is a common phrase with the undiscriminating advocates of delay, that 'The World is not yet r//>e for such and such a measure.' But they usually forget to inquire ' Is it rijjenlng f When, and how, is it likely to hecome ripe 1 or, Are men's un'nds to ripen like winter pears, merely by laying them by, and let- ting them alone V 'Time,' as Bishop Coj)leston has remarked, (i?t'?«cm^ie tlie doctors.' — Bishop Hall. (The office of ' Foreign Apposer' exists to this day in the Court of Exchequer.) ' Quarter. Amity, concord. ' Friends, all but now. In quarter.' — Shakespere. ' Declination. Decay. 'Hope waits upon the flow'ry prime; And summer though it be less gay, Yet is not look'd on as a time Of declination or decay.' — Waller. * Affect. Aim at; endeavour after. See page 1. 'Divers. 'Several; more tliaji one.' Divers friends thought it strange.' — Boyle. " As. That. See page 23. '' Cat' in the pan. Pan-cake. (Gate — cake — pan-cake). Usually turned by a dexterous toss of the cook. A pan-cake is, in Northamptonshire, still called a pan-caoint of ability.'' Whatever a man may be, intellectnally, he labonrs nnder this disadvantage if he is of low moral principle, that he knows only the weak and bad parts of human nature, and not the better. It was remarked by an intelligent Koman Catholic that the Confessional trains the priest to a knowledge not of human nature, but of mental nosology. ' It may therefore qualify them,' he said, ' for the treatment of a depraved, but not of a pure mind.' Now, what the Confessional is to the priest, that, a knave's own heart is to him. He can form no notion of a nobler nature than his own. He is like the goats in Robinson Crusoe's island, who saw clearly everything helow them, but very imperfectly what was above them, so that Robinson Crusoe could never get at them from the valleys, but when he came upon them from the hill-top, took them quite by surprise. Miss Edgeworth describes such a person as one who divides all mankind into rogues and fools, and w'hen he meets with an honest man of good sense, does not know what to make of him. Nothing, it is said, more puzzled Buonaparte. He would oifer a man money ', if that failed, he would talk oi glory, or promise him rank and power : but if all these temptations failed, he set him down for an idiot, or a half-mad dreamer. Conscience was a thing he could not understand. Other things, then, being equal, an honest man has this advantage over a knave, that he understands more of human nature : for he kn(»ws that one honest man exists, and concludes that there must be more ; and 230 Of Cunning. -^^^ [Essay xxii he also knows, if he is not a meiy simpleton, mat there are some who are knavish ; but the kna^^_£aji-BeWom be brought to believe in the existence of an honest man. The honest man may be deceived in particular persons, but the knave is sure to be deceived whenever he comes across an honest man wlio is not a mere fool. There are some writers of fiction whose productions have latelj^ (1854) obtained considerable reputation, who have given sjDirited and just representations of particular characters, but an unnatural picture of society as a whole, from omitting (what they appear to have no notion of) all characters of good sense combined with good principle. They seem to have formed no idea of any, but what one may call evrjOstg and Kaaorjdeig ; — simpletons and crafty knaves ; together with some who com- bined portions of each ; profligacy with silliness. But all their worthy people are represented as weak, and all those of superior intelligence as morally detestable. One of these writers was, in conversation, reprobating as unjust the censure passed on slavery, and maintaining that any ill-usage of a slave was as i-are in America, as a hump-back or a club-foot among us ;— quite an exception. If so, the Americans must be a curious contrast to all that his fictions represent ; for in them, all of superior intelligence, and most of those of no superior intelligence, are just the persons who would make the most tyrannical slave- masters ; being not only utterly unprincipled, but utterly hard- hearted, and strangers to all human feelings ! The sort of advantage which those of high moral principle possess, in the knowledge of mankind, is analogous to that which Man possesses over the brute. Man is an animal, as well as the brute ; but he is something more. He has, and therefore can understand, most of their appetites and propensi- ties : but he has also faculties which they want, and of which they can form no notion. Even so, the bodily apjietites, and the desire of gain, and other propensities, are common to the most elevated and the most degraded of mankind; but the latter are deficient in the higher qualifications which the others possess; and can, accordingly, so little understand them, that as Bacon remarks, 'of the highest virtues, the vulgar have no perception.' (Supremarum sensus nullus.) Essay xxii.] ■ Annotations. 231 ^ These small wares a7id petty points of cunning are mfinite. . . .' To tliese small wares, enumerated by Bacon, might be added a very hackneyed trick, which yet is wonderfully successful, — to atfect a delicacy about mentioning particulars, and hint at what you could bring forward, only you do not wish to give oflence. 'We could give many cases to prove that such and such a medical system is all a delusion, and a piece of quackery ; but we abstain, through tenderness for individuals, from bring- ing names before the Public' ' I have observed many things — which, however, I will not particularize — which convince me that Mr. Such-a-one is unfit for his office ; and others have made the same remark; but I do not like to bring them forward,' &c. &c. Thus an unarmed man keeps the unthinking in awe, by assuring them that he has a pair of loaded pistols in his pocket, though he is loth to produce them. The following trick is supposed (for no certain knowledge could be, or ever can be, obtained) to have been successfully practised in a transaction which occurred in the memory of persons now living: — A person whose conduct was about to undergo an investigation which it could not well stand, commu- nicated to one who was likely to be called on as a witness, all the details — a complete fabrication — of some atrocious mis- conduct: and when tlie witness narrated the convei-sation, utterly denied the whole, and easily proved that the things described could not possibly have occurred. The result was, a universal acquittal, and a belief that all the accusations were the result of an atrocious conspiracy. But those who best knew the characters of the parties, were convinced that the witness had spoken nothing but the truth as to the alleged con- versation, and had been tricked by the accused party, who had invented a false accusation in order to defeat a true one. One not very uncommon device of some cunning people is an affectation of extreme simplicity ; which often has the eli'ect, for the time at least, of throwing the company off their guard. And their plan is to affect a hasty, blunt, and what the French call ' brusque' manner. The simple are apt to conclude that be who is not smooth and cautious must be honest, and what thev 232 Of Canning. [Essay xxii. call ' a rough diamond ;' in reality, a rough diamond — all but the diamond. Thus Hastings says of Richard III. : — 'I think there's ne'er a man in Christendom Can lesser hide his love or hate than he ; For by his face straight you shall know his heart.' Another device is, an affectation of extreme modesty. It is a well-known and common art of the orator to extol the inge- nuity and eloquence of an opponent, that the effect of what he says may be attributed rather to his ability than to the strength of his cause, and that the hearers may even be led to feel a dis- trust and dread of him. We commonly find a barrister — especially when he has a weak cause — complimenting his ' learned brother' on the skill with wliich he has pleaded. But in other cases besides those of public orations, an ex- cessive distrust of superior ability is a kind of fallacy by which weak men often mislead themselves, and cunning ones seek to mislead others. When you have offered strong and unanswer- able reasons in favor of some conclusion, or some line of con- duct, a person of exquisite modest humility will perhaps reply, ' Of course I am not so presumptuous as to attempt to argue with you; I know well your superior ability and learning ; I have no doubt you could easily defeat me in any discussion ; but you must allow me to retain my own opinion.' Thus, if you are supposed to be an able reasoner, all the reasons you can ofler are, on that ground, to go for nothing ! The discount at which all j'ou can say is to be taken, amounts to a hundred per cent, or more. You must submit to what is called in Cliess a stale-mate. Sometimes indeed, even when there is no matter in immediate dispute, a man of reputed ability will be altogether shunned by some persons, just as cautious people (according to Dean Swift's illustration) keep out of the way of a gun, which 7nay gi> off, they know not how, and do mischief. A late eminent writer once sought the acquaintance of a clergyman who was a very near neighbour, merely as such, and not with a view to any controversial discussion ; and the other declined all intercourse ; alleging that he was fully convinced his neighbour was heretical, but so far his superior in learning and ability that he could not presume to engage in any dis- cussion with him, and was afraid of some impression being made on himself. And in another instance, a man refused to Essay xxii.J xinnotations. 233 tlie end of liis life to hold any interconrse witli one nearly con- nected with him, as 'believing him to be a man who could ^//'ove anything.^ He did not allege any abuse of this supposed power ; but took for granted that whoever has the power to do evil will be sure to use it. Thucydides records (B. 8) tlie prejudice entertained b}^ the Athenians against one of their most eminent citizens, Antiphnn, to whom they were unwilling to allow a hearing, because iliey had so high an opinion of his abilities that they thonght him likely to make a skilful defence. And so they paid him the undesirable compliment of condemning him unheard. Of course, if we have any good reason for suspecting a man's uprightness, or candour, we should be the more on our guard against him in proportion to his ability. And, universally, it would be rash for the unlearned to take for granted that they are bound to yield at once to every argument and objection urged by a learned and skilful controversialist, unless they can find an immediate answer. They should take time to consider, and should seek some champion on the opposite side, able to supply their deficiency. But it surely cannot be right that any one should be altogether denied a hearing, merely on the ground of his possessing superior intelligence. It is, no doubt, a com- pendious mode of getting rid of strong and unanswerable rea- sons, to make them go for nothing^ merely because urged by an able man. But this spurious modesty is, in truth, a fallacy by which (as has been above said) the weak impose on themselves, and the crafty, on others. All Fallacies are pieces of cunning, when used designedly. For by a fallacy is commonly understood any unsound mode of arguing, which appears to demand our conviction, and to be decisive of the question in hand, when in fairness it is not. And many are the contrivances which the sophist, who brings forward the fallacy, deliberately uses to withdraw our attention (his art closely resembling the juggler's) from the quarter where it lies.* ' See Elements of Logic, B. iii., ' On Fallacies.' It may be as well to mention here that one of the Fallacies there treated of (§ 18, last paragraph) having lately been — much to my surprise — brought forward and elaborately defended, I have thought it needful to print a short postscript, giving a somewhat fuller description of it than I liad before thought neticssary. The fallacy in question consists in confounding together two different questions; 234 Of Cunning. . [Essay xxii. Mucli iiio-enious artifice is often used to evade the odium of urging a man to do something you wish him to do, or of dissuad- ing, or preventing him from doing what you wish him not to do, or of refusing to grant something you are asked for, &c. The story, which has become proverbial, of ' pray don't nail his ears to the pump,' is a type of one class of these manoeuvres ; where you suggest something, or hold out a temptation, under the pretext of dissuading. When an illustrious personage was doubting about coming to England, being ofl:ered by government an ample pension for staying abroad, and threatened with a trial (in case of refusal) for alleged misconduct, one of the advisers of the party, wishing for troubled waters, in hopes of catching some fish, said, ' I entreat and implore you to accept the oli'er, if you are at all conscious that any of the accusations against you are well- founded. By all means stay abroad, unless you are quite sure of being able to establish your innocence.' This, of course, produced the effect he designed; since it made a consent to remain absent amount to a coiifession of guilt. Again, the granting of some permission, coupled with some condition which you know cannot or will not be fulfilled, is practically a prohibition. It is said that a gentleman, who was desirous to distribute Bibles among his poor neighbours, found them willing and desirous to receive them, if permitted by their clergy. He accordingly applied to their bishop ; who applauded his liberality, and expressed his hearty concurrence ; only recpiiring that each person should come and ask his permission, which he promised never to refuse, except for some special reason. The gentleman, however, found, to his surprise, that no one of his poor neigh- bours went to ask this permission. And at length he was told the cause ; viz., that if any man of humble station waits on the bishop, it is understood that this is to obtain absolution for Bome heinous sin, beyond what ihe, priest has power to pardon ; and thus his character is for ever blasted. Thus the bishop (1) 'Wliether a certain conclusion is established by this particular arr/uinent;' and (2) 'Whether the conclusion is true.' The subject is more fully discussed in the Articles on ' Cumulative Evidence' in the ' United Church Journal' for August and for October. 1856. Essay xxii.J Annotations. 235 was enabled to say tliat he had never refused any man per- mission to obtain a Bible ! Again, a gentleman residing in Brittany, wished, it is said, to distribute Bibles among the people, and found he had to apply to the Authorities for a licence, which the law of France requires, in order to prevent the hawking of seditious publica- tions. The official applied to did not like broadly to refuse, but granted a licence for the distribution of French Bibles ; which are quite unintelligible to the poor Bretons. What \vas wanted was, of course, a licence to distribute Bibles in their own tongue^ which is a dialect of Welsh. But this could not be obtained. He had granted a licence for the sale of Bibles, and that was enough ! ' Even so the stork in the fable was welcome to as much soup as she could pick up with her bill, and the wolf to as much mince-meat as he could get out of a narrow-necked bottle. Again, a person who had the control of a certain public hall, was asked for the use of it for a meeting of a society established in express opposition to an institution he was connected with. He might, on that ground, very faii-ly have refused permission, or have frankly retracted it, on consideration, if hastily and inconsiderately granted. But he readily granted the use of the hall ; and then afterwards inserted the condition that none of the speakers were to say anything against his institution ; and as this was, of course, the principal topic designed to be dwelt on, the condition was refused, and the permission withdrawn. He could no more go straight to any object, than a hare in going from her form to her pasture. A skilful sophist will avoid a direct assertion of what he means unduly to assume ; because that might direct the reader's attention to the consideration of tlie question, whether it b(5 true or not ; since that which is indisputable does not need so often to be asserted. It succeeds better, therefore, to allude to the proposition, as something curious and remarkable : just as the Royal Society were imposed on by being asked to account for the fact that a vessel of water received no addition to is * I do not vouch for the correctness of the above two anecdotes, but merely for having heard them, and have no reason to think them improbable. 236 Of Canning. [Essay xxiL weight bj a live fish being put into it. "While they were seeking for the cause., they forgot to ascertain the fact ; and thus ad- mitted, without suspicion, a mere fiction. So also, an eminent Scotch writer, instead of asserting that the ' advocates of logic have been worsted and driven from the field in every controvei'sy,' (an assertion which, if made, would have been the more readily ascertained to be perfectly groundless) merely observes, that ' it is a circumstance not a little remarkable.^ ' The7X he that can pack the cards, and yet cannot play well.'' Those whom Bacon here so well describes, are men of a clear and quick sight, but short-sighted. They are ingenious in particulars, but cannot take a comprehensive view of a whole. Such a man may make a good captain, but a bad general. He may be clever at surprising a piquet, but would fail in the management of a great army 'and the conduct of a campaign. He is like a chess-player who takes several pawns, but is check- mated. One who is clever, but not wise — skilful in the details of any transaction, but erroneous in his whole system of conduct — re- sembles a clock whose minute-hand is in good order, but the hour-hand loose; so that while it measures accurately small portions of time, it is, on the whole, perhaps several hours wrong. Goldsmith introduces, in The Vicar of Wakefield, a clever rogue, despising a plain straight-forward farmer, whom he generally contrives to cheat once a year ; yet he confesses that, in spite of this, the farmer went on thriving, while he was always poor. Indeed, it is a remarkable circumstance in reference tc cunning persons, that they are often deficient, not only in com-l prehensive far-sighted wisdom, but even in prudent, cautioi circumspection. There was a man of this description, who delighted in taking in every one he had to deal with, and was most ingenious anc successful in doing so. And yet his own estate, which was very large one, he managed very ill ; and he bequeathed it absoj lutely to his widow, whom he might have known to be in under standing a mere child, and who accordingly became the prej of fortune-hunters. Essay xxii.] Annotations. 237 Kumerons are the cases in which the cunning arc grossly taken in by the cunning. Liars are often credulous. Many travellers have given curious accounts of the subtilty of the North American Indians, in stealing upon their enemies 80 as to take them by surprise : how they creep silently through the bushes, and carefully cover up their footmarks, &c. But these writers take no notice of the most curious circumstance of all, which is, that the enemies they thus surprise are usually Indians of the same race — men accustomed to practise just the same arts themselves. The ingenuity and caution of these people is called forth, and admirably displayed, on the occasion of their setting out on a- warlike expedition ; but they have no settled habit of even ordinary prudence. When not roused to the exertion of their faculties by some pressing emergency, they are thoughtless and careless, and liable to be surprised, in their turn. To fortify their ^^dllages, so as to make a sur];)i-ise impos- sible, or to keep up a regular patrol of sentries to watch for the approach of an enemy, has never occurred to them ! A savage is often a cunning, but never a wise, or even a prudent Being. And even so, among us, many who are skilful in playing tricks on others are often tricked themselves. Sometimes, indeed, the more crafty of two knaves will take in the other by calculating on his knavery, and thus knowing how to bait his hook. For instance, there is a story told of a merchant who applied to the Agent of an insurance-otiice to eifect a Pollicy' on a ship. Immediately after, he heard of the loss of his ship ; and suspecting that perhaps (as was the fact) the insurance might not be completed, he wrote oif to the Agent desiring him not to proceed with the business, for that ' Ae had heard of that ship.' The Agent, taking for granted that he had heard of its safety., hurried to the office, completed the business, and then wrote to the merchant by return of post, expressing his concern that the countermand had arrived a few hours too late, and that the insurance had been effected. Thus the mer- chant obtained his payment, because he could prove that he bad written toforhid the insurance. ' This is the right spelling of the word ; ■whiih is evidently a contraction of pollicititm, a promise, and has no connexion with politics. 238 Of Cunning. [Essay xxii. It may be added that the cunning are often deceived by those who have no snch intention. "When a pLain, straightforward man declares plainly his real motives or designs, they set them- Belves to guess what these are, and hit on every possible solution but the right, taking for granted that he cannot mean what he says. Bacon's remark on this we have already given in the ' Antitheta on Simulation and Dissimulation.' ' He who acts in all things openly does not deceive the less ; for most persons either do not understand, or do not believe him.' '' Nothing doth more hurt in a State than that cunning men pass for wise.'' Churchill thus describes the cunning man : — ' With that low cunning which in fools supplies. And amply too, the place of being wise. Which nature, kind, indulgent parent, gave To qualify the blockhead for a knave ; With that smooth falsehood whose appearance charms, And Reason of its wholesome doubt disarms. Which to the lowest depths of guile descends, By vilest means pursues the vilest ends ; Wears friendship's mask for purposes of spite, Fawns in the day, and butchers in the night." It is indeed an unfortunate thing for the public that the cunning pass for wise, — that those whom Bacon compares to ' a house with convenient stairs and entry, but never a fair room' should be the men who (accordingly) are the most likely to rise to high office. The art of gaining power, and that of xising it well, are too often found in different persons. ' The Rosciad, 1. 117. ESSAY XXIII. OF WISDOM F^ A MAN'S SELF. A]Sr ant is a wise creature for itself, but it is a slirewd' thing in an orchard or garden ; and certainly men that are great lovers of themselves waste^ the public. Divide with reason between self-love and society ; and be so true to thyself as thou be not false to othei'S, especially to thy king and country. It is a poor centre of a man's actions, himself. It is right earth ; for that only stands fast upon his own centre; whereas all things that have affinity with the heavens move upon the centre of another, which they benefit. Tlie referring of all to a man's self is more tolerable in a sovereign prince, because themselves are not only themselves, but their good and evil is at the peril of the public fortune : but it is a desperate evil in a servant to a prince, or a citizen in a republic ; for whatsoever aifiiirs pass such a man's hands, he crooketh' them to his own ends, which must needs be often eccentric, to the ends of his master or State : therefore, let princes or States chuse such servants as have not this mark, except they mean their service should be made but the accessary. That which maketh the effect more pernicious is, that all proportion is lost. It were disproportion enough for the servant's good to be preferred before the master's ; but yet it is a greater extreme, when a little good of the servant shall carry things against the great good of the master's : and jet that is the case of bad officers, treasurers, ambassadors, generals, and other false and corrupt servants, which set a bias* upon their bowl, of their own petty ends and envies, to the overthrow of * Shrewd. Mischievous. ' Do my Lord of Cantei-bury A xhrevid turn, and he is your friend for ever.' — Shakespere. ^ Waste. To lay waste ; to desolate. ' Peace to corrupt, no less than war to waste.' — Milton. ' Crook. To pervert. ' St. Augustine sayetlb liimself that images be of more force to crooke an unhappye soule than to teach and instruct him.' — Hoinilies — ' Sermon against Idolatry.' * Bias. A weight lodged on 07ie side of the bowl, which turns it from the straight li7ie. ' Madam, we'll play at bowls, — 'Twill make me think the world is full of rubs. And that my fortune runs against the bias.' — Shahcspere- 240 Of Wisdom for a Mail's Self [Essay xxiii. their master's great and important affairs. And for the most part, the good such servants receive is after the model of their own fortune, but the hurt they sell for that good is after the model of their master's fortune. And certainly it is the nature of extreme self-lovers, as' they will set a house on iire and^ it were but to roast their eggs ; and yet these men many times hold credit with their masters, because their study is but to please them, and profit themselves ; and for either respect' they will abandon the good of their aflairs. Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches thereof, a depraved thing : it is the wisdom of rats, that will be sure to leave a house some time before its fall : it is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out the badger, who digged and made room for him : it is the wisdom of crocodiles, that shed tears when they would devour. But that which is specially to be noted is, that those which (as Cicero says of Pompey) are 'sui amantes sine rivali'^ are many times unfortunate ; and whereas they have all their time sacrificed to themselves, they become in the end themselves sacrifices to the inconstancy of fortune, whose wings they thought by their self-wisdom to have pinioned. ANNOTATIONS. ^ An ant is a shrewd thing in a garden.'' Tliis was probably the established notion in Bacon's time, as it is with some, perhaps, now. People seeing plants in a sickly state covered with ants, attributed the mischief to them ; the fact being that the ants do them neither harm nor good, but are occupied in sucking the secretion of the aphides which swarm on diseased plants, and are partly the cause, partly the effect of disease. If he had carefully watched the ants, he As. Tliat. See page 23. And. If. ' An' it like you.' — Shakespere. ' Respect. Consideration. ' Til eve's the respect Tliat makes calamity of so long life.' — Shakespere. 'Lovers of themselves without a rival.' — Cic. ad. Q. F. Ill, 8. Essaj xxiii.] Annotations. ' 241 would Lave seen them suckiDg the aphides, and the aphides sucking the pUiut. But Bacon, though he had a great fanc}' for making observa- tions and experiments in every branch ol natural philosophy and natural history, was remarkably unskilful in that depart- ment. His observations were slight and i-naccurate, and his reasonings from them very rash. It is true we ought not to measure a man of those days by the standard of the present, when science has — partly through Bacon's means — made such advances. But he was below (in this point) what might have been attained, and was attained, in his own day. Copernicus' theory was not unknown in his day ; yet he seems to have thought lightly of it. Also Gilbert the Magnetist he did not duly appreciate. And most remarkable of all, perhaps, is his error — noticed in the preface — respecting the mistletoe ; a trifling matter in itself: but the casting up of a sum is a test of one's arithmetic, whether the items be farthings or pounds. Unlike Bacon, Socrates greatly discouraged all branches of natural philosojjhy. According to Xenophon, he derided those who inquired concerning the motions of the heavenly bodies, the tides, the atmosphere, &c., asking whether they expected to be able to control these things ? or whether, again, they had so completely mastered all that related to human affairs, of which Man does possess the control, that they might afford to devote themselves to speculations remote from j)ractice ? That nature can be controlled, by obeying (and only by obey- ing) her laws (' Naturae non imperatur, nisi parendo,') the maxim which Bacon so earnestly dwells on, and which furnishes the proper answer — though well worthy of that earnestness, — is what all mankind — even savages — ^have always in some degree acted on. For he who sows his corn at the season when he has observed that fertilizing rains may be expected, and so that by the time it approaches maturity the season of sunshine may be expected, does virtually command rain and sun. And the mariner commands the winds and tides, who so times his voyage, from observation, as to be likely to meet with favourable winds and tides. And so in an infinite number of other cases. 16 242 Of Wisdom for a Mmih Self. [Essay xxiii. Divide with reason hetween self-love and society ', and he so true to thyself as thou he not false to others. '^ The difference "between self-love and selfishness has been well explained by Aristotle, though he has not accounted for the use of the word (ptXavna. It is clear that selfishness exists only in reference to others, and could have no place in one who lived alone on a desert island, though he might have of course every degree of self-love ; for selfishness is not an excess of self-love, and consists not in an over-desire of happiness, but in placing your happiness in something which interferes with, or leaves you regai'dless of, that of others.* Nor are we to suppose that selfishness and want of feeling are either the same or insepa- rable. For, on the one hand, I have known such as have had very little feeling, but felt for others as much nearly as for themselves, and were, therefore, far from selfish ; and, on the other hand, some, of very acute feelings, feel for no one but themselves, and, indeed, are sometimes amongst the most cruel. Under this head of the ' dividing between self-love and society' may be placed a distinction made by Bishop Copleston^ between two things which he says are occasionally confounded by Locke, as well as most other writers on education. 'Two things,' he remarks, ' ought to be kept perfectly distinct — viz., that mode of education which would be most beneficial, as a system, to society at large, with that which would contribute most to the advantage and prosperity of an individual. Now, the peculiar Interest of the individual is not always the same, is seldom precisely the same, is even frequently at variance, with the interest of the public. And he who serves the one most faithfully always forgets, and often injures, the other. Tlie latter is that alone which deserves the attention of a philosopher ; the former — individual interest — is narrow, selfish, and mercenary. It is the mode of education which would fit for a specific employment, or contribute most to individual advantage and prosperity, on which the world are most eager to mform themselves ; but the persons, who instruct them, how- ever they may deserve the thanks and esteem of those whom they benefit, do no service to mankind. There are but so many ' See Lessonn on Morals, L. xvi. § 3. ' Memoir of Bishop Copleston, p. 307. Eshaj xxiii.J Annotations. 243 good places in the theatre of life ; and he who puts us in the way of procuring one of them does to us indeed a great favour, but none to the whole assembly.' He adds a little after, ' A wide space is left to the discretion of the individual, where the claims of the community are either not pressing or wholly silent.' Another point in which the advantage of the individual is quite distinct from that of the public, I have touched upon in a Lecture on the Professions,' from which I take the liberty of adding an extract. 'It is worth remarking that there is one point wherein some branches of the Law differ from others, and agree with some professions of a totally different class. Sujjerior ability and professional sl'ill, in a Judge or a Conveyancer, are, if combined with integrity, a jpuhlic benelit. They confer a service on certain individuals, not at the expense of any others: and the death or retirement of a man thus qualified, is a loss to the community. And the same may be said of a physician, a manufacturer, a navigator, &c., of extraordinary ability. A pleader, on the contrary, of powers far above the average, is not, as such, serviceable to the Public. He obtains wealth and credit for himself and his family ; but any special advantage accruing from his superior ability, to those v.'lio chance to be his clients, is just so much loss to those he chances to be opposed to : and which party is, on each occasion, in the right, must be regarded as an even chance. His death, therefore, would be no loss to the Public ; only, to those parti- cular persons who might have benefited by his siiperior abilities, at their opponents' expense. It is not that advocates generally, are not useful to the Public. They are even necessary. But extraordinary ability in an advocate, is an advantage only to himself and his friends. To the Public, the most desirable thing is, that pleaders should be as equally matched as possible ; so that neither John Doe nor Richard Roe should have any advan- tage independent of the goodness of his cause.'' Extraordinary ' Reprinted in the Elcmentx. of Rhetoric. ^ On this it has been remarked by an intelligent writer, that, when there are two very superior pleaders in existence, the death of one of them would be a national loss. And this would hold good, if the two were always engaged on op- posite niilcK. But that is so far from being necessarily, or usually, the case; that, on llu- conti'ary, it is a common practice for a l^arty who has engaged a very em- 244 Of Wisdom- for a Ilmi's Sef. [Essay xxiii. ability in an advocate may indeed raise him to great wealth, or to a seat on the bencli, or in the senate ; and he may nse these advantages — as many illustrious examples show, greatly to the public benefit. But then, it is not as an advocate, directly, but as a rich man, as a judge, or as a senator, that he thus benefits his country.' Bad officers, treasurers, amhassadors, generals, and other false and comijpt servants, set a Mas upon their howl, of their own petty ends and envies, to the overthrow of their 7naster''s great and important affairs^ It seems not to have occurred to Bacon that the mischief he so well describes could take place except from the selfish wisdom of persons entrusted with' some .employment, and sacri- ficing the interest of their employer to their own. But in truth, the greatest amount of evils of this class — that is, the sacrifice of public good to individual jDrofit, — has arisen from the favour claimed by, and shown to, certain classes of men, in no oflicial situation, who have persuaded the nation (and, doubtless, sometimes themselves also), that their own interest was that of the State. Both the Spaniards and the English prohibited their colonies from trading with any but the mother country ; and also from manufacturing for themselves ; though the colonists were fellow-citizens, and were virtually taxed for the profit, not of the State, but of certain manutacturers and mer- chants. For, if they had found the goods produced in thel mother-country to be cheaper and better than they could make for themselves, or buy elsewhere, they would have supplied themselves with these of tlieir own accord, without need of pro- hibiting laws ; but whenever this was not the case — that is, whenever there was any occasion for such a law, — it is plain] they were paying an exti^a price, or buying inferior articles, for the profit of the manufacturers at home. Yet this never seemed to strike even the Americans themselves, or theii' advocates, at the time when the revolt broke out. It was only avowed taxa- inent barrister to plead for him, to give also to another eminent barrister a re taininsj-fee (it might be called a 7-e.straini7ig-{ee), without expecting him to takd any part iu the pleading, but merely to jirevent his being engaged by the opposite party. Essay xxiii.] Annoiatloiu. 245 tion for the benefit of the government at home (which had laid out something for them) that they complained of. And this did not arise from comparative indifference to the welfare of our colonial fellow-subjects ; for the like sort of policy has been long pursued at home. We imported timber of inferior quality from Canada, when better was to be had at a tenth part of the distance, lest saw-mills in Canada, and timber- ships engaged in that trade, should suffer a diminution of profit ; though the total value of them all put together did not probably equal the annual loss sustained by the Public. And we pro- hibited the refining of sugar in the sugar colonies, and chose to hnport it in the most bulky and most perishable form, for the benefit of a few English sugar-bakers ; whose total profits did not probably amount to as many shillings as the nation lost pounds. And the land-owners maintained, till very lately, a monopoly against the bread-consumers, which amounted virtually to a tax on every loaf, for the sake of keeping up rents. ' Other selfishness,' says Mr. Senior, in his Lectures on Politi- cal Economy, ' may be as intense, but none is so unblushing, because none so much tolerated, as that of a monopolist claiming a vested interest in a public injury.' But, doubtless, many of these claimants persuaded tJiemselves, as well as the nation, that they were promoting the jpuhlic good. ESSAY XXIV. OF INUsTOVATIONS. AS the births of living creatures at first are ill-shapen, so are all innovations, which are the births of time : yet, notwith- standing, as those that first bring liononr into their family are commonly more worthy than most that succeed, so the first precedent (if it be good) is seldom attained by imitation : for ill, to man's nature as it stands perverted, hath a natural motion, strongest in continuance ; but good, as a forced motion, strongest at first. Surely every medicine is an innovation, and he that will not apply new remedies must expect new evils : for time is the greatest innovator ; and if time of course alters things to' the worse, and wisdom and counsel shall not alter them to the better, what shall be the end ? It is true that what is settled by custom, though it be not good, yet at least it is fit ; and those things which have long gone together, are, as it were, confederate with themselves ; whereas new things piece not so well ; but, though they help by their utility, yet they trouble by their inconformity f besides, they are like strangers, more admired, and less favoured. All this is true, if time stood still ; which, contrariwise, moveth so round,^ that a froward retention of custom is as turbulent a thing as an innovation ; and they that reverence too much old times, are but a scorn to the new. It were good, therefore, that men in their innovations, would follow the example of time itself, which indeed innovateth greatly, but quietly, and by degrees scarce to be perceived ; for otherwise, whatsoever is new is unlooked for — and ever it mends some, and pairs* others ; and he that is holpen takes it for a fortune, and thanks the time ; and he that is hurt, for a wrong, and imputeth it to the author. It is good also not to try ex- ' To. For. ' Marks and points out each man of us to slaughter.' — Ben Jbnson. ^ Inconformity. Incongruity ; discordance. ^ Round. Rapid. ' Sir Roger heard them on a round trot.' — Addison. * Pair. To impair. ' ' No faith so fast,' quoth he, ' but flesh does paire'. ' Flesh may impaire,' quoth she ' hut reason can repaire.' ' — Spenser. 'Wliat profiteth it to a man if he wynne all the world, and do peyringc to his soul ?' — Wickliff 's Translation of Mark viii. Essay xxiv.J Of Innovations. 247 periments in States, except the necessity be urgent, or tlie utility evident; and well to beware, that it be the refornialiun that draweth on the change, and not the desire of change that pre- tendeth' the reformation: and lastly, that the novelty, though it be not rejected, yet be held for a suspect f and, as the Scripture saith, 'That we make a stand upon the ancient way, and then look about us, and discover w^hat is the straight and right way, and so to walk in it." ANTITHETA ON Pro. ' Omnis medicina innov.itio. ' Every medicame7it is an iyinovation.' ' Qui nova reraedia fugit, nova mala operitur. ' He who shuns new remedies must ex- pect new evils' ' Novatoi' maximus tempus : qiiidni igitur tempus imitemur ? ' Time is the (freat innovator ; why then not imitate Time f ' Morosa morum retentio, res tnrbu- lenta est aique ac novitas. ' A stnbhorn adherence to old practices breeds tuninlts no less than novelty.' ' Cum per se res mutentur in deterius, si eoiisilio in melius non mutentur, quis finis erit mali ? ' Since thinr/s spontaneously chanye for the worse, if they be not by design chaiiycd for the batter, evils must accu- mulate without end.' INNOVATIONS. Contra. ' Nullus auctor placet, prreter tempus. ' One bows willingly to no authority btit Time.' 'Nulla novitas absque injuria; nam pra?sentia convellit. ' Every novelty does smne hurt, for it unsettles what is established.' ' Quaj usu obtinuere, si non bona, at saltern apta inter se sunt. ' 7'hinys that are settled by long use, if not absolutely good, at least ft well together.' ' Quis.novator tempus imitatur, quod novationes ita insinuat, utsensus fallant? ' Shmv lite the innovator who ^iiiiiates Time, that slides in changes ituper- ceptibly.' ' Quod pra;ter speni evenit, cui pro- dest, minus acceptum ; cui obest mngis molestum. ' What happens unexpectedly is, for that reason, less welcome to him ivhom it profits, and more galling to him whom it hurts.' ' Pretend. To put fm'ioard or exhibit as a cover. ' Lest that heavenly form, pretended To hellish falsehood, snare them.' — Milton. ' Suspect Something suspicious. ' If the king ends the dift'erence, and takes away the suspect.' — Suckling. ^ Compare Jer. vi. 16. 248 Of Innovations. [Essay xxiv. ANNOTATIONS. ' Time is the greatest innovator.'' "When Bacon speaks of time as an 'innovator,' he might have remarked, by the way — what of course he well knew — that though this is an allowable and convenient form of expres- sion, it is not literally correct. Bishop Copleston, in the remark already referred to in the notes on ' Delays,' terms the regarding time as an agent one of the commonest errors ; for ' in reality time does notliing and is nothing. We use it,' he goes on to say, ' as a compendious expression for all those causes which act slowly and imperceptibly. But, unless some positive cause is in action, no change takes place in the lapse of one thousand years ; as, for instance, in a drop of water enclosed in a cavity of silex. The most intelligent writers are not free from this illusion. For instance, Simond, in his Switzerland., speaking of a mountain-scene, says — ' The quarry from which the mate- rials of the bridge came, is jnst above your head, and the miners are still at work : air, water, frost, weight, and time.^ Thus, too, those politicians who object to any positive enactments atfecting the Constitution, and who talk of the gentle operation of time, and of our Constitution itself being the work of time, forget that it is human agency all along which is the efficient cause. Time does nothing.' Thus far Bishop Coj^leston.' But we are so much influenced by our own use of language, that, though no one can doubt, when the question is put before him, that effects are produced not hy time, but m time, w^e are accustomed to represent Time as armed with a scythe, and mowing down all before him. ' I^ew things are lihe strangers, more admired, and less favoured^ Bacon has omitted to notice, in reference to this point, what nevertheless is well worth remarking as a curious circumstance, that there are in most languages proverbial sayings respecting it, apparently opposed to each other ; as for instance, that men ' Remains of Bishop Copleston. Essay xxiv.] Annotations. 249 are attached to what they have been used to ; that nse is a second nature ; that they fondly clhig to the institutions and practices they have been accustomed to, and can luirdly be pre- vailed on to change them even for better; and then, again, on the other side, that men have a natural craving for novelty ; that unvarying sameness is tiresome ; that some variety — some change, even for the worse, is agreeably refreshing, ifec. The truth is, that in all the serious and important affairs of life men are attached to what they have been used to ; in matters of ornament they covet novelty ; in all systems and institutions — in all the ordinary business of life — in all funda- mentals — they cling to what is the established course ; in matters of detail — in what lies, as it were, on the surface — they seek variety. Man may, in reference to this point, be com})ared to a tree, whose stem and main branches stand year after year, but whose leaves and flowers are fresh every season. In most countries people like change in the fashions of their dress and furniture; in almost all, they like new music, new poems, and novels (so called in reference to this taste), pictures, flowers, games, &c., but they are wedded to what is established in laws, institutions, systems, and in all that relates to the nuiin business of life. This distinction is one which it may often be of great impor- tance to keep in mind. For instance, the ancient Romans and other Pagans seldom objected to the addition of a new god to their list ; and it is said that some of them actually did propose to enrol Jesus among the number. This was cpiite consonant to the genius of their mythological system. But the overthrow of the whole system itself, and the substitution of a fundamen- tally different religion, was a thing they at first regarded with alarm and horror; all their feelings were enlisted against such a radical change. So also in the unreformed Chui-ches. The enrolment from time to time of a new saint in the calender, or the ju-omulgation of a new dogma, are acceptable novelties. But those who would abolisli all saint-worship, and restore Christianity to its primitive pui-ity, are denounced as heretical innovatoi's. Any one, therefoi'e, who should inuigine that the Gospel may have been originally received with some degree of favour on account of its being new, because, forsooth, men like novelties, and that, therefore, sometliing shoi't of the most overpowering miraculous proofs miglit have sufficed for its in- 250 Of Innovations. [Essay xxlv. trodnction and spread, — such a person mnst have entirely over- Looked the distinction between tlie kinds of things in which men do or do not favour what is new. And the Hke hokls good in all departments of life. New medicines, for instance, come into vogue from time to time, with or without good reason ; but a fundamentally new si/ste7n of medicine, whether right or wrong, is snre to have the strongest j>rejudices enlisted against it. If when the celebrated Harvey discovered the circnlation of the blood, he had, on the ground that people often readil}^ introduced some new medicine, calcu- hited on a favourable reception, or even a fair hearing, for his doctrine, which went to establish a fundamental revolution, he vrould soon have been undeceived by the vehement and general opposition with which he was encountered. And it was the physicians of the highest standing that most opposed Harvey. It was the most experienced navigators that opposed Columbus' views. It was those most conversant with the management of the Post-office that were the last to a})prove of the plan of the uniform penny-postage. For, the greater any one's experience and skill in his own department, and the more he is entitled to the deference which is proverbially due to each man in his own province [' peritis credendum est in arte sua'] the more likely, indeed, he will be to be a good judge of im- provements in details, or even to introduce them himself; but the more unlikely to give a fair hearing to any prop<:)sed radical change. An experienced stage-coachman is likely to be a good judge of all that relates to turnpike-roads and coach-horses ; but you should not consult him about railroads and steam-cari'iages. Again, every one knows how slowly and with what difficulty farmers are prevailed on to adopt owj new system of husbandly, even when the faults of an old established usage, and the ad- vantage of a change, can be made evident to the senses. An anecdote' is told of a gentleman who, in riding through the deep and shady Devonshire lanes, became entangled in the intricacies of their numberless windings ; and not being able to obtain a sufficiently wide view of the country to know where- abouts he was, trotted briskly on, in the confident hope that he should at length come to some house whose inhabitants would direct him, or to some more open spot from which he could take a survey of the different roads, and observe whither they What follows is extracted from tlie London Review of 1829. Essay xxiv.] Annotations. 2.31 led. After proceeding a long time in this manner, lie was snr- prised to find a perfect uniformity in the country through which he passed, and to meet with no human being, nor come in sight of any habitation. He was, however, encouraged by observing, as he advanced, the prints of horses' feet, which indicated tluit he was in no unfrequented track : these became continually more and more numerous the further he went, so as to afford him a still increasino- assurance of his beino- in the inniiediate neighbourhood of some great road or populous village ; and he accordingly paid the less anxious attention to the bearings of tl]^ country, from being confident that he was in the right way. But still he saw neither house nor human creature; and, at length the recurrence of the same objects by the roadside opened his eyes to the fact, that all this time, misled by the multitude of the turnings, he had been riding in a circle ; and that the footmarks, the sight of which had. so cheered him, were those of his own horse y their number, of course, increasing with every circuit he took. Had he not fortunately nuide this dis- covery, perhaps he might have been riding there now. The truth of the tale (and we can assure our readers that we at least did not invent it) does not make it the less useful by way of apologue : and the moral we would deduce from it is, that in many parts of the conduct of life, and not least in government and legislation, men are liable to follow the truck of their ownfootstej.)s^ — to set themselves an example, — and to flatter themselves that they are going right, from their con- formity to their own jn'ecedent. It is commonly and truly said, when any neiv and untried measure is proposed, that we cannot fully estimate the inc(ui- veniences it may lead to in practice; but we are convinced this is even still more the case with any system which has long heen m operation. The evils to which it may contribute, and the obstacles it may present to the attainment of any good, are partly overlooked, or lightly regarded, on account of their familiarity, partly attributed to such other causes as perhaps really do co-operate in producing the same eftects, and I'aidvcd along with the unavoidable alloys of lunnan happiness, — the inconveniences from which no human policy can entirely exempt us. In some remote and unimproved districts, if you complain of the streets of a town being dirty and dark, as those of London were for many ages, the inhabitants tell you that the nights are cloud V -md the weather rainy : as for their streets, they are just 252 Of Inncyvations. [Essay xxiv. such as they have long 1)6671 j and the expedient of paving and lighting has occurred to nobody. The ancient Eonians had, probably, no idea that a civilized community could exist without slaves, lliat the same work can be done much better and cheaper by freemen, and that their odious system contained the seeds of the destruction of their empire, were truths which, familiarized as they were to the then existing state of society, they were not likely to suspect. ' If you allow of no i)lunder- ing, said an astonished Mahratta chief to some English officers, ' how is it possible for you to maintain such fine armies as you bring into the field?' He and his ancestors, time out of mind, had doubtless been following tlwir own footsteps in the esta- blished routine ; and had accordingly never dreamed that pillage is inexpedient as a source of revenue, or even one that can possibly be dispensed with. ' That is the way it is always done. Sir ;' or ' We always do so and so ;' are the answers generally returned by the vulgar to an inquiry as to the reason of any practice. Recent experiment, indeed, may bring to light and often exaggerate the defects of a new system ; but long fami- liarity blinds us to those very defects.' And among the obstacles those have to encounter who are advocating any kind of novelty, this is one : that every instance of failure in the application of any new system is sure to be, by most people, attributed to the system itself ^ while in the case of an old and established system, any failure is either reckoned a mere unavoidable accident, or is attributed to the individual. If, for. instance, some crop turns out ill, under an established system of agriculture, this failure is attributed either to the weather, or else to unskilfulness in the individual farmer ; but if it takes place under a new system of husbandry, it will usually be taken as a decisive proof that the system itself is wrong. So again, if a patient dies, under the routine-system of Medicine, blame is laid, if there be any, on the individual practitioner : but if a patient die who has been treated accord- ing to some new system, this is likely to be taken as conclusive against the system itself. And so, in other cases. One practical oonsfequence of the attachment of men to what they have long been used to is, that it is a great point gained, London Review, 1829, Essay xxiv.] Amiotatlons. 253 when there does exist need for a change, to have brought about some change, even though little or nothing of improvement, because we may look forward with cheering hope to a remedy of the remedy — a removal of the newly introduced evils, — as a change far more easily to be brought about tluin the first change. Alterations in any building are easily made 'wJuIe the mortar is loet. ' So it is in legislation and in all human affairs. While the most inconvenient and absurd laws are suffered to remain michanged for successive generations, hardly an act is passed that any defects in it are not met by ' acts to ameud' it, in the next and in succeeding sessions. ' Tliose who remember the Uuiversity of Oxford at the com- mencement of this century, when, in iact, it hardly deserved the name of an university, — who remember with what difficulty, and after what long delay, the first statute for degree-examina- tions was introduced — how jjalpable were the defects of that statute, and how imperfectly it worked, — and, lastly, how easily, in comparison, these defects were, one by one, remedied, and suc- cessive improvements from time to time introduced, — such per- sons must have profited little by experience, if they deprecate the application of any remedy to any existing law or institution that is in itself evil, for fear the remedy should not be such, in the first essay, as to meet their wishes." ' A froward retention of custom is as tivrhulent as an innovar tion ; and they that reverence old times too much are hut a scorn to the new.^ To avoid the two opposite evils — the liability to sudden and violent changes, and the adherence to established usage, when inconvenient or mischievous, — to give the requisite stability to governments and other institutions, without shutting the door against improvement, — this is a problem which both ancient and modern legislators have not well succeeded in solving. Some, like the ancient Modes and Persians, and like Lycurgus, have attempted to prohibit all change ; but those who constantly appeal to the wisdom of their ancestors as a sufficient reason for perpetuating everything these have established, forget two * See Kingdom of Christ, Appendix to Essay ii. note 0, page 355, 4th edition. 254 Of Innovations. [Essay xxiv. tilings : first, that tliey cannot hope for ever to persuade all successive generations of men that there was once one genera- tion of such infallible wisdom as to be entitled to control all their descendants for ever ; which is to make the earth, in fact, the possession not of the living, but of the dead ; and, secondly, that even supposing our ancestors gifted with such infallibility, many cases must arise in which it may be reasonably doubted whether they themselves would not have advocated, if living, changes called for by altered circumstances. For instance, those who denoted the southern quarter from nieridics (noon) would not have been so foolish as to retain that language had they gone to live in a hemisphere where the sun at noon is in the north. But, as Dr. Cooke Taylor remarks in TJce Bishoj): ' An antiquated form, however perverted from its original pur- pose, gratifies the lazy in their love of ease ; it saves them the trouble of exchanging their old onunipsimus for the new suinp- simus : and new the sumpsimus must appear, though it be a restoration ; it averts the mortification of confessing error, which is always so abhorrent to the self-satisfied stupidity of those who grow old without gaining experience.' ' Vel quia nil rectum, nisi quod jilacuit sibi, ducunt; Yel quia turpe putant parcre minuribus, et quae luiberbi didicere, senes perdenda fatori.' It is to be observed, however, that in almost every depart- ment of life, the evil that has very long existed will often be less clearly perceived, and less complained of, than in proj^ortion to the actual extent of the evil. ' If you look to any department of government, or to any parish or diocese, that has long been left to the management of apathetic or inefficient persons, you will usually find that there are few or no complaints; because complaints having long since been found vain, will have long since ceased to be made. There wall be no great arrears of business undone, and of applications unanswered ; because business will not have been brought be- fore those who it is known will not transact it; nor applications made, to wliich i. _ answer can be hoped for. Abuses, and defects, and evils of various kinds, which ought to have been prevented or remedied, men will have learned to submit to as to visitations of Providence ; having been left without redress till they have at length forgotten that any redress is due, or is possible : and Essay xxiv.J Annotations. 255 this stagnation will have come to be regarded as the natural state of things. 'Hence, it will often happen that in a parish for instance, where for a long time very little has been done, it will appear at first sight as if there were in fact very little to do : the spiritual wants of members of the Church not appearing to be unattended to, because many persons will have ceased to be members of the Church, and many others will be unconscious that they have any spiritual wants. 'And in a Church, accordingly, that has been long without an efhcient government, the want of such government wiM often be very inadequately perceived, from its not even occm-nng to men to consider whether the enormous increase of dissent, of internal discord, and of indifference to the Church, are evils which it comes within tlie province of a government in any degree to prevent or mitigate.' With those who maintain that the present is not the hest time, — on account of the violence of contending parties — for the restoration of a Church-government, I so far agree, that I am convinced it would have been much hetter to have taken the step several years ago ; before the excitement caused by one of those parties had arisen; and yet better, some years earlier still, when the removal of religious disabilities first left the Church destitute of any legislature consisting exclusively of its own members : and that, again, a still earlier period would have been prelerable, when considerable attention was for a time attracted to a work on the subject, by a person, then, and now, holding the otfice of Archdeacon. ' But it is far from being sufficient, — as seems to be the notion of some persons — to show that the present is not the fittest cojiceivahle occasion for taking a certain step. Besides this, it is requisite to show, — not merely that a better occasion may be inmgined^ — or that a better occasion is past; — that the Sibylline Books might have been purchased cheaper soms time ago I — but that a more suitable occasion is likely to arise here- after : and how soon / and also, that the mischiet' which may be going on during the interval will be more than compensated by * This, and another passage in this note, are extracted from Tlioughts on Church-government 256 Of Innovations. [Essay xxiv. the superior suitableness of that future occasion ; in short, that it will have been worth waiting for. And in addition to all this, it is requisite to show also the probability that when this goldeu opportunity shall arise, men will be more disposed to take ad- vantage of it than they have heretofore appeared to be ; — that they will not again fall into apathetic security and fondness for indefinite procrastination. ' This last point is as needful to be estabhshed as any ; for it is remarkable that those who deprecate taking any ste^just now, in these times of extraordinary excitement, did not, on those former occasions, come forward to propose taking advantage of a comparatively calmer state of things. They neither made any call, nor responded to the call made by others. ' And indeed all experience seems to show — comparing the apathy on tlie subject which was so general at those periods, with the altered state of feeling now existing, — that a great and pressing emergency, and nothing else^ will induce men to take any step in this matter ; and that a period of dissension and perplexing difficulty, is, though not, in itself, the most suitable occasion for such a step, yet — constituted as human nature is — the best, because the only occasion on which one can hope that it will be taken. A season of famine may have been, in some respects, a bad occasion for altering the corn-laws ; but expe- rience showed that nothing less would suffice. ' When the valley of Martigny, in Switzerland, was threatened (a good many years ago) with a frightful deluge from the bursting of a lake formed by a glacier which had dammed uj) a river, the inhabitants were for some time not sufficiently alarmed to take steps for averting the danger, by cutting channels to let off the water. They cannot, therefore, be said to have chosen tJie best time for commencing their operations ; for had they begun earlier, — as soon as ever the dam was formed — the work would have been much easiei*, and probably all damage would have been prevented. As it was, they had to encounter much difficulty, and, after all, were but partially successful : for the undrained portion of the lake did at length burst the barrier, and considerable damage ensued ; perhaps a fourth part of what would have taken place had things been left to themselves. But they were wise in not deferring their operations yet longer, in the hope that matters would mend spontaneously, when they Essay xxiv.] Annotations. 257 saw that the evil was daily inci'easing. And after having miti- gated in a great degree the calamity tliat did ensue, they took measures to provide against the like in future. ' Still, however, we must expect to be told by many, that, sooner or later, matters will come right spontaneously, if left untouched ;— that, in time, tliough we cannot tell how soon, a period of extraordinary excitement is sure to be succeeded by one of comparative calm. In the meantime it is forgotten at what cost such spontaneous restoration of tranquillity is usually purchased — how much the tire will have consumed before it shall liave burnt out of itself. The case is very similar to what takes place in the natural body: the anguish of acute inflam- mation, when left to itself, is succeeded by the calm of a morti- fication: a limb is amputated, or drops ofi" ; and the body — but no longer the whole body — is restored to a temporary ease, at tlie expense of a mutilation. Who can say that a large propor- tion of those who are now irrecoverably alienated from the Church, might not have been at this moment sound members of it, had timely steps been taken, not by any departure from the principles of our Reformers, but by following more closely the track they marked out for us V It is true, that whatever is established and already existing has a presumption on its side ; that is, the burden of proof lies on those who propose a change. No one is called on to bring reasons against any alteration, till some reasons have been ofiTeredybr it. But the deference which is thus claimed for old laws and institutions is sometimes extended (through the ambi- guity of language — the use of ' old' for ' ancient')' to wliat are called ' the good old times ;' as if the world had formerly been older, instead of younger, than it is now. But it is manifest that the advantage possessed by old 7nen — that of long expe- rience — must belong to the present age more than to any preceding. Is there not, then, some reason for the ridicule which Bacon speaks of, as attaching to those 'who too much reverence old times?' To say that no changes shall take place is to talk idly. We miglit as well pretend to control the motions of the earth. To resolve that none shall take place except what are undesigned and accidental, is to resolve that though a clock ,^ ^ See ^/eweji^s o/'Zor^Jc, Appendix. 258 Of Imwvations. [Essay xxiv. may gain or lose indefinitely, at least we will take care that it Bliall never be regulated. 'If time' (to nse Bacon's warning words) 'alters things to the worse, and wisdom and counsel shall not alter them to the better, what shall be the end V ^It were good that men, m their innovatiotis, would follow the example of Time itself, which indeed innovcdeth greatly^ hid quietly and hy degrees scarce to he perceived.'' There is no more striking instance of the silent and im- perceptible changes brought about by what is called ' Time,' than that of a language becoming dead. To point out the precise period at which Greek or Latin ceased to be a living language, would be as impossible as to say when a man becomes old. And much confusion of thought and many important practical results arise from not attending to this. For example, man}^ persons have never reflected on the circumstance that one of the earliest translations of the Scriptures into a vernacular tongue was made by the Church of Rome. The Latin Vulgate was so called from its being in the vulgar, i. e. the popular language then spoken in Italy and the neighbouring countries ; and that version was evidently made on purpose that the Scrip- tures might be intelligibly read by, or read to, the mass of the people. But gradually and imperceptibly Latin was superseded by the languages derived from it — Italian, Spanish, and French, — while the Scriptures were still left in Latin ; and when it was proposed to translate them into modern tongues, this was regarded as a perilous innovation, though it is plain that the real innovation was that which had taken place in'iperce2:)tibly, since the very object proposed by the Vulgate-version was, that the Scriptures might not be left in an unknown tongue. Yet we meet with many among the fiercest declaimers against the Church of Rome, who earnestly deprecate any the slightest changes in our authorized version, and cannot endure even t he gradual substitution of other words for such as have become obsolete, for fear of ' unsettling men's minds.' It never occurs to them that it was this very dread that kept the Scrip- tures in the Latin tongue, when that gradually became a dead language. It has been suggested in a popular Periodical that if the Essay xxiv,] Annotations. 259 mass of the People had been habitual readers of the Yulgate, Latiu might have never heeome a dead language. No doubt, if printing had been in use in those days, and the People generally had had as ready access to cheap Bibles as now, this would have retarded and moditied the change of the lan- guage. But the case which is adduced as parallel is very far from being such : namely, the stability given to our language by the use of our English version. For, it ought not to have been forgotten that our country was not, like Italy — subju- gated and overrun (subsequently to the translation of the Bible) by numerous tribes speaking a different language. As it is, there can indeed be no doubt that our Authorized Yer- sion, and our Prayer-book (and, in a minor degree, Shakespere and Bacon) have contributed to give some fixedness to our lan- guage : but after all, the changes that have actually taken place in it are greater than perhaps some persons would at first sight suspect. For, though the words in our Bible and Prayer-book which have become wholly obsolete, are but few, the number is many times greater, of words which though still in connnon use, have greatly changed their meaning : such as ' conversation,' 'convenient,' 'carriage,' (Acts, xxi. 15) 'jirevent,' 'reason- able,' ' lively,' ' incomprehensible,' those most important words 'shall' and 'will,' and many others.' And words which have thus changed their meaning are, of course, much more likely to perplex and bewilder the reader, than those entirely out of use. These latter only leave him in darkness ; the others mis- lead him by a false light. Universally, the removal at once of the accumulated effects gradually produced in a very long time, is apt to strike the vulgar as a novelty, when, in truth, it is only a restoration of things to their original state.' For example, suppose a clock to lose only one minute and a few seconds in the week, and to be left uncorrected for a year; it will then have lost a whole hour ; and any one who then sets it right, will appear to the ignorant to have suddenly robbed them of that amount of time. ' See Bisliop Hinds on the AiUhorixed Vcrxion, and also a most useful littlf Vocabulari/ of Ohsoleie Words in our version, by the Ilev. Mr. Booker. * See Cautions for the Times, iS'o. 2 260 Of Innovations. [Essay xxiv. This case is precisely analogous to that of the change of style. Tliere was, in what is called the Julian Calendar (tliat fixed by Julius Caesar), a minute error, which made eveiy fourth year a trifle too long ; in the course of centuries the error amounted to eleven days, and when, about a century ago, we rectilied this (as had been done in Roman Catholic countries a century earlier), this mode of reckoning was called ' the 7ie:W style.' The Russians, who still use what is called the ' old style,' ai"e now not eleven, but twelve days wrong ; that is, they are one day further from the original position of the days of the month, as iixed in the time of Julius Cassar : and this they call adhering to the Julian Calendar. So, also, to reject the religious practices and doctrines that have crept in by little and little since the days of the Apostles, and thus to restore Christianity to what it was under them^ appears to the unthinking to be forsaking the old religion and bringing in a new.' It is to be observed that hurtful changes are often attributed to harndess ones ; and apprehensions are entertained that a chaiige., however small, is necessarily a dangerous thing, as tending to jpn'oduce extensive and hurtful innovations. Many instances may be found of small alterations being folloiced by great and mischievous ones (' Post hoc ; ergo propter hoc') ; but I doubt whether all history can fui-nish an instance of the greater innovation having been, properly speaking, caused by the lesser. Of course, the first change will always pi'ecede the second ; and many mischievous innovations have taken place ; but these may often be explained by the too long postponement of the requisite changes ; by the neglect of the homely old proverb — 'A tile in time saves nine.' A house may stand for ages if some very small repairs and alterations are promptly made from time to time as they are needed ; whereas if decay is suffered to go on unheeded, it may become necessary to pull down and rebuild the whole house. The longer any needful reform is delayed, the greater and the more difficult, and the more sudden, and the more dangerous and unsettling, it will ' Bishop Hind's views, in his work on The Three Temples, have been censured (as he himself had anticipated) as novel ; though so familiar to the Apostles as to have tinged all their language ; as in their use of the word ' edify,' &c. Essay xxiv.] Annotations. 261 be. And then, perhaps, those who had caused this delay by their pertinacious resistance to any change at all, will point to these evils — evils brought on by themselves — in justilicatiou of their conduct. If they would have allowed a few broken slates on the roof to be at once replaced by new ones, the timbers would not have rotted, nor the walls, in consequence, leaned, nor would the house have thence needed to be demolished and rebuilt. Most wise, therefore, is Bacon's admonition, to copy the great innovator Time, by vigilantly watching for, and promptly counteracting, the first small insidious approaches of decay, and introducing gradually, from time to time, such small improve- ments (individually small, but collectively great) as there may be room for, and which will prevent the necessity of violent and sweeping reformations. ' It is good not to try experiments in States, except the necessity he urgent, or the utility evident / and well to heware, that it he the reformation that draweth on the change, and not tJie desire of change that pretendeth the reformation.'' It has been above remarked that most men have no desire for change, as change, in what concerns the serious business of life. True it is, that great and sudden and violent clianges do take place — that ancient instituti(»ns have been recklessly overlhrown — tliat sanguinary revolutions have taken place in cpu'ck succession, and that new schemes, often the most wild and exti'avagant, both in civil and religious matters, have been again and again introduced. We need not seek far to find countries that liave had, within the memory of persons now living, not less than nine or ten perfectly distinct systems of Government. But no changes of this kind ever originate in the mere love of cJmnge for its own sake. Never do men adopt a new form of govennnent, or a new system of religion, merely from that delight in variety which leads them to seek new amusements, or to alter the fashion of their dress. They seek changes in what relates to serious matters of fundamental importance, only throngh the pressure of severe suffering, or of some vehement want, or, at least, from the perception of some great evil or deficiency. Widely as the vulgar are often mistaken as to the 262 Of Innovations. [Essay xxiv. causes of any distress, or as to the remedies to be songlit, tlie distress itsell' is real, when they aim at any great revuhition. If an infant beats its nurse, although its acts are as irrational as those of a mad dog, you may be assured that it is really in pain. And when men are sufltering from a famine or ]ies;ilence, though it is absurd for them to seek to obtain relief by esta- blishing a new kind of senate or parliament, or by sealing up a dictator, or by slaughtering all peojjle of property, still the evil itself is real, and is keenly felt ; and it is tJud., and not a mere love of change, for change sake, that drives them to take the most irrational steps. And when evils are really occasioned by absurd and op- pressive laws and tyrannical govermnents, it is riglit and rational to aim at a change, though the changes which an infuriated populace does bring about will usually be bolh ir- rational and wrong — will overthrow the good along with tlie evil, and will be pregnant with worse evils than they seek to remedy. The ancient despotism of France, detestable as it was, did not cause more miseiy in a century than the Reign of Terror did in a year. And, universally, the longer and the more grievously any people have been oppressed, the more violent and extravagant w^ill be the reaction. And the people will often be in the condition of King Lear, going to and fro between his daughters, and deprived tirst of half his attendants, then of half the remainder, then of all. Hence, though it is true that innovations in important matters are never sought through mere love of change for its own sake, but for relief from some evil, the danger is not the less, of rash and ill-advised innovations ; because evils, greater or less, and more or less of imperfection, always do exist in all human institutions administered by fallible men. And what is more, there is seldom any kind of evil that does not admit of a complete and effectual remedy, if we are careless about introducing some different, and, perhaps, greater evil in its place. It is seldom very difficult to dam up a stream that incommodes us ; only we should remember that it will then force for itself a new channel, or else spread out into an unwholesome marsh. The evils of contested elections, the bribery, the intimidation, and the deception which they often Essay xxiv.] Annotations. 263 give rise to, are undeniable ; and they would be completely cured by suppressing the Plouse of Commons altogether, or making the seats in it hereditary ; but we should not be gainers by the exchange. There are evils belonging specifically to a pure monarchy, and to an oligarchy, and to a democracy, and to a mixed government : and a change in the form of govern- ment would always remedy one class of evils, and introduce another. And under all governments, civil and ecclesiastical, there are evils arising from the occasional incapacity or mis- conduct of those to whom power is entrusted ; evils which might be at once remedied by introducing the far greater evil of anarchy, and leaving every man to ' do as is right in his own eyes.' There are inconveniences, again, from being governed by fixed laws, which must always bear hard on some particular cases ; but we should be no gainers by leaving every judge to act like a Turkish cadi, entirely at his own discretion. And the like holds good in all departments of life. There are careless and inefiicient clergymen : abolish endowments, and resort to what is called ' the voluntary system,' and you will have no inactive ministers : only, ' preaching' will, as Paley observes, ' become a mode of begging :' and a Minister whose flock consists of persons all engaged in some one bad practice, such as smugglers, rebels, slave-dealers, or wreckers, will find that he is a man hired to keep their conscience quiet in a wrong course. This also may be cured by prohibiting the ministers receiving any contributions : only, this will confine the ministry to men of fortune. And so of the rest. One of the greatest evils produced by the thorough-going Reformer is that the alarinfi which he excites is the great strengthener of the ultra-conservative principle. ' See what we shall come to if we listen to these lovers of change !' This is one of the infinite number of cases in which evils are brought on by their contraries : in short, by a re-action. The mass of mankind rush eagerly into whatever extrems happens to be the fashion of the day ; like planks floating to and fro with the tides. Those a few degrees above them see and try to avoid an error, but take no precautions against a contrary extreme. ' Dum vitant stulti vitia in contraria 264 Of Innovations. [Essay xxiv. ciiiTunt.' Tliey are like a mariner sailing and rowing with all his might as far as possible against a flood-tide, and never thinking that an ebb is to come. A wuse man always antici- pates re-actions, and takes his measures accordingly. But I have already dwelt upon this point in the remarks on ' Super- stition.' It should be remembered, then, that though pure conser- vatism is a folly, and though it is true that men do not covet innovation, as such, with equal blindness, still there is as much folly, and as much danger, in a blindly reformatory principle. For though men do not seek a change except when they perceive some evil, inconvenience, or imperfection, the thorough-going Reformer always will find some — not unreal — ground of com- plaint, in the working of every institution. ' Erunt vitia donee homines.' And if the house is to be pulled down and rebuilt till we have got one that is perfect, and, moreover, that every one will think such, we shall be as constantly in brick and mortar as if we did delight in pulling down for its own sake. And we should remember, also, that ' custom will often blind one to the good as well as to the evil effects of any long- established system. The agues engendered by a marsh (like that ancient one which bore the name and surrounded the city of Camarina,) and wdiich have so long been common as to be little regarded, may not be its only eflects : it may be also a defence against an enemy. The Camarinseans having drained the swamp, their city became healthy, but was soon after besieged and taken. The preventive effects, indeed, whether good or evil, of any long-established system are hardly ever duly appreciated. But though no law or system, whether actually existing or proposed, can be expected to be unexcep- tionable, or should have its defects pointed out without any notice of corresponding advantages, it is most important to examine every measure, whether new or old, and to try it on its intrinsic merits ; always guarding against the tendency to acquiesce without inquiry in the necessity of any exist- ing practice. In short, we should, on the one hand, not venture rashly on untrodden paths without a careful survey of the country, and, on the other hand, to be on our guard Essay xxiv.] Annotations. 265 against following, in confident security, the track of our own footsteps." The two kinds of absurdity here adverted to may be coni])ared respectively to the acts of two kinds of irrational animals, a moth, and a horse. The moth rushes into a flame, and is burned: and the horse obstinately stands still in a stable that is on tire, and is burned likewise. One may often meet with persons of opposite dispositions, though equally unwise, who are accordingly prone respectively to these opposite errors : the one partaking more of the character of the moth, and the other of the horse. This comparison, I may add, suggests a jiractical rule. The only way to lead a horse out of a burning stable, is to put on him his accustomed gear ; the saddle and biidle, if a saddle-horse, or the collar, if a draught-horse ; and then, by the force of association, he will submit to be led out. So also, a man of the disposition alluded to, will the more readily coa)[)ly with a suggestion, if put into the form, as far as may be, of his accustomed practice. He may be led. if put into his usual gear. The opposite course to this is taken by not a few, who liave a passion to be accounted original. They exaggerate the nov- elty of anything they propose, and put whatever they say into the most paradoxical form, as if on purpose to make people stare. Tliey must be always broaching something that is new; or at least, as the phi-ase is, putting ' old things in a new light.' But if your object be to instruct, convince, or persuade, rather than to astonish, you will find it quite as often advisable \.o put new things in an old light. Bacon's maxim, therefore, is most wise, 'to make a stand upon the ancient way, and look about us to discover what is the hest way ;' neither changing at once anything that is established, merely because of some evils actually existing, without con- sidering whether we can substitute something that is on the whole better; nor, again, steadily rejecting every plan or system that can be proposed, till one can be found that is open to no objections at all. For nothing framed or devised by the wit of Man ever was, or can be, perfect ; and therefore to condemn ' See Appendix E. to Lectures on Political Economy, page 225. 266 Of Innovations. [Essay xxiv. and reject every tiling that is imperfect, and lias some evils attending on it, is a folly which may lead equally — and indeed often has led — to each of two op]>osite absurdities : either an obstinate adherence to what is established, however bad, because nothing absolutely unexceptionable can be substituted ; or again, a perpetual succession of revolutions till we can esiablish — which is totally impossible — some system completely faultless, or so framed as to keep itself in good order. To conceive such a system, whether actually existing or ideal, is to be beset by tlie same chimerical hope in human afiairs that has misled so many speculators in mechanics, — the vain expectation of attain- ing the j?e?'pet2cal motion. This essay of Bacon's is one of the most instructive and most generally useful, ' coming home,' as he himself expresses it, ' to men's business and bosoms.' For though few men are likely to be called on to take part in the reformation of any public institutions, yet there is no one of us but what ought to engage in the important work of self-reformation. And according to the well-known proverb, ' If each M^ould sweep before his own door, we should have a clean street.' Some may have more, and some less, of dust and other nuisances to sweep away ; some of one kind and some of another. But those who have the least to do, have something to do ; and they should feel it an encouragement to do it, that they can so easily remedy the beginnings of small evils before they have accumulated into a great one. Begin reforming, therefore, at once: proceed in reforming steadily and cautiously, and go on reforming for ever. ESSAY XXV. OF DISPATCH. A FFECTED dispatch is one of the most dangerous things to I -^^ business that can be : it is like that which the physicians jcall predigestion, or hasty digestion, which is sure to till the body full of crudities, and secret seeds of diseases ; therefore, measure not dispatch by the time of sitting, but by the advance- ment of the business : and as in races it is not the large stride, or high lift, that makes the speed, so in business, tlie keeping close to the matter, and not taking of it too much at once, procureth dispatch. It is the care of some, only to come off speedily for the time, or to contrive some false periods of business, because' they may seem men of dis])atch : but it is one thing to abbreviate by contracting, another by cutting off; and business so handled at several sittings or meetings goeth com- monly backward and forward in an unsteady manner. I knew a wise man that had it for a by-word, when he saw men hasten to a conclusion, ' Stay a little, that we may make an end the sooner." On the other side, true dispatch is a rich thing ; for time is the measure of business, as money is of wares ; and business is bought at a dear hand where there is small dispatch. The Spartans and Spaniards have been noted to be of small dispatch : ' Mi venga la muerte de Spagna," for then it will be sure to be long in coming. Give good hearing to those that give the first information in business ; and rather direct them in the beginning than inter- rupt them in the continuance of their speeches ; for he that is put out of his own order will go forward and backward, and be more tedious while he waits upon his memory, tlian he could have been if he had gone on in his own course. But sometimes it is seen that the moderator is more troublesome than the actor. Iterations' are commonly loss of time ; but there is no such 'Because. That; in order that 'The multitude rebuked them, iecajwe they should hold their peace.' — 2Iatt. xx. 31. ' Sir Amyas Paulet. ^ ' May my death come from Spain.' * Iteration. Repetition. ' What means this iteration, woman ?' — Shakespere, 268 Of Dispatch. [Essay xxv. gain of time as to iterate often the state of the question ; for it chaseth away many a frivolous speech as it is coming forth. Long and curious speeches are as fit for dispatch as a robe or mantle with a long train is for a race. Prelaces, and passages,' and excusations/ and other speeches of reference to the person, are great wastes of time; and though they seem to proceed of modesty, they are bravery/ Yet beware of being too material* when there is any impediment or obstruction in men's wills ; for pre-occupation of mind ever requireth preface of speech, like a fomentation to make the unguent enter. Above all things, order and distribution, and singling out of parts, is the life of dispatch, so as the distribution be not too subtle ; for he that doth not divide will never enter well into business, and he that divideth too much will never come out of it clearly. To cliuse time is to save time ; and an unseason- able motion is but beating the air. There be three parts of business — the preparation, the debate, or examination, and the perfection, — whereof, if you look for dispatch, let the middle only be the work of many, and the first and last the work of few. The proceeding upon somewhat conceived in writing doth for the most part facilitate dispatch ; for though it should be wholly rejected, yet that negative is more pregnant of di- rection than an indefinite, as ashes are more generative than dust. ' Passages. Introductory approaches. ' And with his pointed dart Explores the nearest passage to her lieart.' * Excusations. Excuses ; apologies. ' The punishment of his excusations.' — Brown. ^ Of. From. ' I have received of tlie Lord that which I also delivered unto you.' — 1 Cor. xi. 23. 'A blow whose violence grew not of fury, not o/" strength; or o/" strength pro- ceeding of iuvy.' — Sidney. * Bravery. Boaf!ti7ig. ' For a bravery upon this occasion of power they crowned their new king in Dublin.' — Bacon. ^ Material. Full of matter. 'A material fool.' — Shakespere. ' His speech even charmed his cares, So order'd, so material.' — Chapman's version of the 24 Aristotle, Eth., B. 8. ''Aversation towards. Aversio7i to. 'There is such a general aversation in human nature towards contempt, that there is scarcely any thing more exasperating.' — Government of the Tonc/ite. ' Except. Unless. ' Except a man be born again, he cannot see the kingdom of God.' — John iii. 8. * Conversation. Course of life. ' What manner of persons ought we to be in all holy conversation and godliness.' — 2 Pet. iil * ' A great city, a great solitude.' * Mere. Absolute. See ' Merely,' page 22. ' Humanity. Humati nature. ' Look to thyself; reach not beyond humanity. — Sir Philip Sidney. Essay xxvii.] Of FriendsJuj). 281 tlie fulness of the heart, which passions of all kinds do cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings and suti'ocuiions are the most dangerous in the body ; and it is not much other- wise in the mind: you may take sarza' to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flower of sulpliur for the lungs, casloreum for the brain ; but no receipt 0]3enetli the heart but a true friend, to whom you may impart griefs, joys, feai'sr, hopes, sus- picions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the heart to oj)press it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession. J> It is a strange thing to observe how high a rate great kings and mouarchs do set uj)on this fruit of friendship whereof we speak, — so great, as'^ they purchase it many times at the hazard of their own safety and greatness : for princes, in regard of the distance of their fortune from that of their subjects and servants, cannot gather this fruit, except, to make themselves capable thereof, they raise some persons to be as it were companions, and almost equals to themselves, which many times sorteth' to inconvenience. The modern languages give unto such persons the name of favourites, or privadoes, — as if it were matter of grace or conversation ; but the Roman luime attaineth the true use and cause thereof, naming them ' participes curarum ;'■* for it is that which tieth the knot : and we see plainly that this hath been done, not by weak and passionate princes only, but by the wisest and most politic that ever reigned, who have often- times joined to themselves some of their servants, whom both themselves have called friends, and allowed others likewise to call them in the same manner, using the word which is received between private men. i—/L. Sylla, when he commanded Kome, raised Pompey, after stirnamed The Great, to that height that Pompey vaunted him- self for Sylla's over-match ; for when he had carried the consul- ship for a friend of his, against the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a little resent thereat, and began to speak great, Pompey turned upon him again, and in effect bade him be quiet ; for that more men adored the sun rising than the sun setting.^ With Julius Caesar, Decimus Brutus had obtained ' Sarza. Sarsaparilla. ' Sarza is both a tree and an herb.' — Ainsworth. ^ As. That. See page 23. ' Sorteth. To result ; to issne in. ' Sort how it will, I shall have gold for all.' — Sliakeapere. ■* Participators in our cares. ^ Plut. Vit. Pomp. 1 9, 282 Of Friendship. [Essay xxvii. that interest, as lie set liim down in liis testament for heir iL re- mainder after his nephew ; and this was the man that had power with him to draw him forth to his death ; for when Csesar would have discharged the senate, in regard of some ill presages, and especially a dream of Calpnrnia, this man lifted him gently by the arm out of his chair, telling him he hoped he would not dismiss the senate till his wife had dreamed a better dream ;' and it seemed his favour was so great, as Antonius, in a letter, which is recited verbatim in one of Cicero's Philippics, called him ''venefica^ witch, — as if he had enchanted Caesar.^- Augustus raised Agrippa, though of mean birth, to that height, as,^ wlien he consulted with Maecenas about the marriage of his daughter Julia, Maecenas took the liberty to tell him, that he must either marry his daughter to Agrippa, or take away his life, — there was no third way, he had made him so great. With Tiberius Caesar, Sejanus had ascended to that height as they two were termed and reckoned as a pair of friends* Tiberius, in a letter to him, saith, ' Haec pro amicitia nostra non occultavi ;'* and the whole senate dedicated an altar to Friendship, as to a goddess, in respect of the great dearness^ of friendship between them two. The like, or more, was between Septimus Severus and Plautianus ; for he forced his eldest son to marry the daughter of Plautianus, and w^ould often maintain Plautianus in doing affronts to his son ; and did write also, in a letter to the Benate, by these words,"^ ' I love the man so well, as I M^ish he may over-live' me.' Now if these princes had been as a Trajan, or a Marcus Aurelius, a man might have thought that this had proceeded of* an abundant goodness of nature : but being men so wise, of such strength and severity of mind, and so extreme lovers of themselves, as all these were, it proveth, most plainly, that they found their own felicity, though as great as ever hap- pened to mortal men, but as a half piece, except they might have a friend to make it entire ; and yet, which" is more, they ' Plut. Vit. J. Ccest. 64. 9 Cic. P/(^7^jt). xiii. 11. 'As. That. See page 23. * ' On account of our friendship, I have not concealed these things.' — Tacit. Ann. iv. 40. ^ Dearuess. Foiidness. ' He must profess all the dearness and friendsliip.' — South. * ^ion Cass. Ixxv. ' Overlive. Survive. ' Musidorus, who showed a mind not to overlive Prorus, prevailed.' — Sir P. Sidney. * 0£ From. See page 268. » Wliich. Wliat— Chaucer. Essay xxvii.] Of FHt,iidsliip. 283 were princes that luid A\ives, sons, nephews, yet all these could not supply the comfort of fricjidship. ' It is not to be forgotten what Comineus observeth of his first master, Duke Charles the Hardy — namely, that he would connnunicate' his secrets with none; and, least of all, those secrets which troubled him most. Whereupon he goetli on, and saith, that towards his latter time, that closeness did impair and a little perish^ his understanding. Surely Comineus might have made the same judgment also, if it had pleased him, of his second master, Louis XI., whose closeness was indeed his tormentor. Tlie parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true, ' Cor ne edito' — eat not the heart." Certainly, if a man would give it a hard phrase, those that want friends to open themselves unto, are cannibals of their own hearts ; but one thing is most admirable (wherewith I will conclude this first fruit of friendship), which is, that this communicating of a man's self to his fnend, works two contrary eftects, for it redonbleth joys, and cutteth griefs in lialfs ; for there is no man that imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more, and no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the less. So that it is, m truth, of operation upon a man's mind of like virtue as the alcliymists use to attribute to their stone for man's body, that it worketh all contrary eftects, but still to the good and benefit of nature. But yet, without praying in aid* of alchymists, there is a manifest image of this in the ordinary course of nature ; for. in bodies, union strengtheneth and cherisheth any natural action, and, on the other side, weaken eth and dulleth any violent im- pression — and even so is it of ^ minds. * Communicate with. Communicate to ; impart to. ' He communicated those tlioughts only with the Lord Digbj'.' — Clarendon. - Perish. To cause to decay ; to destroy. ' Thy flinty heart, more hard tlian they, Might in thy palace perish, Margaret.' — Shakespere. ^ Plutarch, Be Educat. Puer. 17. * Pray in aid. To be an advocate for. (A term in la-w for calling in one tc help who has interest in a cause.) 'You shall find A conqueror that -will pray in aid for kindness, When he for grace is kneeled to.' — Shakespere. " Of. With regard to. 'This quarrel is not now o/'fame and tribute, But for your own republick.' — Ben Jonson. 28J: Of Friendship. [Essay xxvii. '- The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sovereign for the understanding, as the first is for the atfections ; for friend- Bhip maketh indeed a fair day in the affections from s:orni and tempests, but it maketh daylight in the understanding, out of darkness and confusion of thoughts. Neither is tliis to be understood only of faitliful counsel, which a man receiveth from his friend ; but before you come to that, certain it is, that who- soever' hath his mind fraught with inany thoughts, his wits and midei'standing do clarify and break up, in the communicating and discoursing with another ; he tosseth his thoughts more easily — he marshalleth them more orderly — he seeth how they look when they are turned into words — finally, he waxeth^ wiser than liimself ; and that more by an hour's discourse than by a day's meditation. It was well said by Themistocles to the king of Persia, ' That speech was like cloth of Arras, opened and put abroad" — whereby the imagery doth appear in figure, whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs. Neither is this second fruit of friendship, in opening the understanding, re- strained^ only to such friends as are able to give a man counsel (they indeed are best), but even without that a man learneth of himself, and bringeth his own ihoughts to light, and whetteth his wits as against a stone, which itself cuts not. In a word, a man were^ better relate himself to a statue or picture than to Bufix3r his thouglits to pass in smother.'^ Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship complete, that other point which lieth more open, and falleth within ' ^Vlio5oever. Whoever. ' Who-ioerer liatli Christ for his friend shall he sure of counsel ; and wlioxoever is his own friend will be sure to obey it.' — South. "^ Wax. To (J row ; to become. ' j^ature, crescent, does not grow alone In thews and bulk ; but as this temple waxes, The inward service of the mind and soul Grows Avide withal.' — Shakcxpere. = Plut. Vit. Themint. 28. ^ Restraimni. Limited; confined; restricted. ' Upon what ground can a man promise himself a future repentance who cannot promise himself a futurity ; whose life is so rentrained to the present that it cannot secure to itself the reversion of the very next moment.' — South. ^ Were. Had. ' I were best not call.' — Shake.ipere. * Smother (not used as a noun). A .state of being stijfed. 'Then must I from the smoke into the smother ; From tyrant duke unto a tyrant brother.' — Skakespere. Essay xxvii.] Of Fiiendshij). 285 vulgar* observation — which is faithful counsel from a fi'iend. Ileraclitus saith well, in one of his enio-nias, ' Dry lio-ht is ever the best;'' and certain it is, that the light that a man receiveth by counsel from another is drier and purer than that which Cometh from his own understanding and judgment, which is ever infused and drenched in his alfections and customs. So as there is as much difference between the counsel that a friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend and of a flatterer ; for there is no such flatterer as is a man's self, and there is no such remedy against flattery of a man's self as the liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two sorts ; the one concerning manners, the other concern- ing business : for the first, the best preservative to keep the mind in health is the faithful admonition of a friend. The calling of a man's self to a strict account is a medicine sonie- times too piercing and corrosive; reading good books of morality is a little flat and dead ; observing our faults in others is some- times improper for our case ; but the best receipt (best, I say, to work, and best to take) is the admonition of a friend. It is a strange thing to behold what gross errors and extreme absur- dities many (especially of the greater sort) do commit, for want of a frielid to tell them of them, to the great damage both of their fame and fortune : for, as St. James' saith, they are as men 'that look sometimes into a glass, and presently forget their own shape and favour.''' As for business, a man may think, if he will, that two eyes see no more than one ; or, that a gamester seeth always more than a looker-on : or, that a man in anger is as wise as he that liatli said over the fouv-and-twenty letters ; or, that a musket may be shot off" as well upon the arm as upon a rest: and such other fond^ and high imaginations, to think himself all in all : but when all is done, the help of good counsel is that which setteth business straight ; and if any man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be by pieces ; ' Vulgar. Common ; general ; public. ' Most Biire, and vulgar ; every one hears that.' — Shakexpere. 'Ap. Stop. Serm. v. 120. ^ James i. 23. ' Favour. Coimtenance. ' I have surely seen him ; \\\?, favour is familiar to me ' Fond. Foolish ; silly ; xoeak. ' 'Tis, fond to wail inevitable strokes, As 'tis to laugh at them.' — Shakcspere. 286 Of Friendship. [Essay xxvii. asking counsel in one business of one man, and in another business of another man ; it is as well (that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he asked none at all), but he runneth two dangers ; one, that he shall not be iaithfuUy counselled — for it is a rare thing, except it be from a perfect and entire friend, to have counsel given, but such as shall be bowed and crooked' to some ends which he hath that giveth it ; the other, that lie shall have counsel given, hurtful and unsafe (though M-itli good meaning) and mixed partly of mischief and partly of remedy — even as if you would call a physician, that is thought good for the cure of the disease you complain of, but is unacquainted with your body, — and therefore, may put you in a way for present cure, but overthroweth your health m some other kind, and so cure the disease, and kill the patient : but a friend, that is wholly acquainted with a man's estate,^ will beware, by farther- ing any present business, how he daS'heth upon other incon- venience, — and, therefore, rest not upon scattered counsels, for they wdll rather distract and mislead than settle and direct. After these two noble fruits of triendship (peace in the affec- tions and support of the judgment), folio weth the last fruit, which is, like the pomegranate, full of many kernels — I mean, aid and bearing a part in all actions and occasions. Here, the best way to represent to life the manifold use of friendship, is to cast and see how many things there are which a man cannot do himself ; and then it will appear that it was a sparing speech of the ancients, to say, ' that a friend is another himself,' for that a friend is far more than himself. Men have their time, and die many times in desire of some things which they principally take to heart ; the bestow^ing of a child, the finishing of a work, or the like. If a man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure that the care of those things will continue after him ; 60 that a man hath, as it were, two lives in his desires. A man hath a body, and that body is confined to a place ; but where friendship is, all offices of life are, as it were, granted to him and his deputy ; for he may exercise them by his friend. How many things are there which a man cannot, with any * Crook. To pervert. See page 239. * Estate. State ; co7idition ; circumstances. ' His letter there Will show you his estate.' — Shakespere. Essay xxvii.] Annotations. 287 face or comeliness say or do himself? A man can scarce allege his own merits with modesty, much less extol them ; a man cannot sometimes brook to sn])plicate or beg, and a nnmber of the like : but all these tilings are graceful in a friend's mouth, which are blushing in a man's own. So, again, a man's person hath many proper' relations M^hicli he cannot put off. A man cannot speak to his son but as a father; to his wife but as a husband : to his enemy but upon terms : whereas a friend may speak as the case requires, and not as it sorteth^ with the person. But to enumerate these things were endless : 1 have given the rule, where a man cannot fitly play his own part ; if he have not a friend, he may quit the stage. ANTITHETA ON FRIENDSHIP. Pro. Contra. • Pessiraa solitudo, non veras habere ' Qui amicitias arctas copulat, novas amicitias. necessitates sibi imponit. ' 2'he worst solitude is to have no real ' He who forms dose friendships, im- Jriendships.' poses on himself new duties.' ' Digna malse fidei ultio, amieitiis 'Animiimbecilli est, partirifortunam. privari. ' Jt is the mark of a feeble mind to 'To be deprived of friends is aft go shares in one' s fortune with anothei:' reward of faithlessness.' ANNOTATIONS. * It had heen hard for him that spahe it to have put more tmth and untruth together in few words than in that speech^ — ' ^Yhosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild heast or a god.'' Aristotle had been so unduly and absurdly worshipped before Bacon's time, that it was not inexcusable to be carried away by the ebb-tide, and unduly to disparage him. But, in truth, Aristotle (for it is of him Bacon is speaking) was quite right in saying * Proper. Peculiar. ' Faults proper to himself.' — ShaJcespere. 'Sort. To suit ; to ft. 'For different styles, with different subjects sort. As sevei-al garbs with country, town, and court.' — Pope. 288 Of Fnendsliij). [Essay xxvii. that to Man, such as man is, friendship is indispensable to hap- piness ; and that one who has no need, and feels no need of it, must be either much aljove human nature, or much below it/ Aristotle does not presume to say that no Being can exist so exalted as to be wholly independent of all other Beings, and to require no sympathy, nor admit of it ; but that such a Being must be a widely different Being from Man. ''It is most nntvue^ that it should have any character at all of dimne nature!! Well might Bacon doubt, or deny, that incapacity for friend- ship could assimilate Man to the divine nature. We do not find that true Christians — those whom Peter describes as 'par- takers of a divine nature through the great and precious promises given unto them'" — become less and less capable of friendship in proportion as they, in any measure, attain to that resemblance to their divine Master, which is yet to be their perfection and their happiness when they shall see Him as He is f and after which they are now, here below, continually striving. We do not find that, as they increase in universal charity, particular friendships are swallowed up in it, or that any progress to higher and more exalted christian attainment makes a partial regard towards one good man more than another, unworthy of them, and too narrow a feeling for them to entertain. Far from it, indeed : it is generally observed, on the contrary, that the best Christians, and the fullest, both of hrotherly love towards all ' who are of the household offaith^ and of universal tenderness and benevolence towards all their fellow-creatures, are also the warmest and steadiest in their friendships. Nor have we any reason to believe that in the future state of blessedness and glory, when the saint is indeed made perfect, any part of his perfection will consist in being no longer capable of special individual friendship. There are many per- sons, however, who believe that it will be so ; and this is one of the many points in which views of the eternal state of the heirs ^ "0 61 fifj dvvufievog koivuveIv t} fZTjdiv 6e6/ievog 6/,' avrupKeiav, ovdiv fiepoc noleuc (^are f] drjplov r/ Otoc-' — Arist. Politics, Book i. Bacon probably quoted from a Latin translation: ' Homo solitarius, aut Deus aut bestia.' * 2 Pet. L 4. M John iii. 2. Essay xxvii.] Annotations. 289 of salvation are rendered more uninteresting to our feelingfj; i^nd consequently, more uninviting, than there is any ne^.d to make them. Many suppose that when we have attaiiied to that eternal state, the more concentrated and limited aflection will be lost in brotherhood with that ' multitude which no man can number, redeemed out of every nation, and kindred, and people.' But if we find, as we do fiml, that private friendship does not interfere with christian bro lierhood, nor with universal bene- volence on earth, why should it do so in heaven ? But ' we have no more decisive proof than this :' no one can sup- pose that a Christian in his glorified state will be inore exalted than his great Master while here on earth ; from Him we must ever remain at an immeasurable distance : we hope, indeed, to be free from the sufterings of our blessed Lord in his state of humiliation here below ; but never to equal his perfections. Yet He was not incapable of friendship. He certainly loved, indeed, all mankind, more than any other man ever did ; since (as Paul says) ' while we were yet enemies, Pie died for us ;' He loved especially the disciples who constantly followed Him ; but even among the Apostles, He distinguished one as more peculiarly and privately Mv^ friend — John was the disciple whom Jesus loved.'' Can we then ever be too highly exalted to be capable of friendship ? 'I am convinced, on the contrary, that the extension and perfection of friendship will constitute great part of the future happiness of the blest. Many have lived in various and distant ages and countries, perfectly adapted (I mean not merely in their being generally estimable, but in the agreement of their tastes, and suitableness of dispositions) for friendship with each other, but who, of course, could never meet in this world. Many a one selects, when he is reading history, — a truly-pious Christian, most especially in reading sacred history, — some one or two favourite characters, with whom he feels that a personal acquaintance would have been peculiarly delightful to him. Why should not such a desire be realized in a future state ? A wnsh to see and personally know, for example, the Apostle Paul, or John, is the most likely to arise in the noblest and purest mind ; * From A View of the Scripture Revelations of a Future State. 19 290 Of FriendsJiip. [Essay xxviL I BJiOuld be sorry to tliink siicli a wish absurd and presump- tuoLS, or ]iulikely to be gratified. The highest enjoyment, doubtless, to the blest, will be the personal knowledge of their divine and beloved Master ; yet I cannot but think that some part of their happiness will consist in an intimate knowledge of the greatest of his j^.lowers al^o : and of those of them in par- ticular whose pecuhar qualities are, to each, the most peculiarly attractive. ' In this world, again, our friendships are limited not only to those who live in the same age and country, but to a small portion even of those who are not unknown to us, and whom we know to be estimable and amiable, and who, we feel, might have been among our dearest friends. Our command of time and leisure to cultivate friendships, imposes a limit to their extent ; they are bounded rather by the occupation of our thoughts, than of our affections. And the removal of such im- pediments in a better world, seems to me a most desirable, and a most probable change. 'I see no reason, again, why those who have 'been dearest friends on earth, should not, when admitted to that happy state, continue to be so, with full knowledge and recollection of their former friendship. If a man is still to continue (as there is every reason to suppose) a social Being, and capable of friend- ship, it seems contrary to all probability that he should cast off or forget his former friends, who are partakers with him of the like exaltation. He will, indeed, be greatly changed from what he was on earth, and unfitted perhaps for friendship with such a Being as one of us is now ; but his friend will have under- gone (by supposition) a corresponding change.' And as we have seen those who have been loving playfellows in childliood, growj up, if they grow up with good, and with like, dispositions, intc still closer friendship in riper years, so also it is probable that when this our state of childJwod shall be perfected, in the maturity of a better world, the like attachment will continue 1 * The same thought is beautifully expressed by one of the most excellent of sacred poets, — the author of The Christian Year : — ' That so, before the Judgment-seat, Though changed and glorified each face. Not unremember'd we may meet, For endless ages to embrace.' Essay xxvii.] Annotations. 291 between tliose companions who have trod together the christian path to Glory, and have ' taken sweet counsel together, and walked in the house of God as friends.' A change to indiffe- rence towards those who have fixed their hearts on the same objects with ourselves during this earthly pilgrimage, and have given and received mutual aid during their course, is a change as little, I trust, to be exj^ected, as it is to be desired. It certainly is not such a change as the Scriptures teach us to prepare for. ' And a belief that, under such circumstances, our earthly attachments will remain, is as beneficial as it is reasonable. It is likely very greatly to infiuence our choice of friends ; which surely is no small matter. A sincere Christian would not indeed be, at any rate, utterly careless whether those were sincere Christians also, with whom he connected himself : but his care is likely to be much greater, if he hopes, that, provided he t^hall have selected such as are treading the same path, and if he shall have studied to promote their eternal welfare, he shall meet again, never to part more, those to wdiom his heart is most engaged here below. The hope also of rejoining in a better state, the friend whom he sees advancing towards that state, is an additional sj)ur to his own virtuous exertions. Everything which can make heaven appear more desirable, is a help towards his progress in christian excellence ; and as one of the greatest of earthly enjoyments to the best and most exalted Christian, is to witness the happiness of a friend, so, one of the brightest of liis hopes will be, that of exulting in the most pertect happiness of those most dear to him. ' As for the grief, which a man may be supposed to feel, for the loss — the total and final loss — of some who may have been dear to him on earth, as well as of vast multitudes, I fear, of his fellow-creatures, I have only this to remark : that a wise and good man in this life, though he never ceases to use his endeavours to reclaim the wicked, and to diminish every kind of evil and suffering, yet, in cases where it is clear that no good can be done by him, strives, as far as possible (though often without much success), to withdraw his thoughts from evil which he cannot lessen, but which still, in spite of his efforts, will often cloud his mind. We cannot at pleasure draw off" our thoughts entirely from painful subjects which it is in vain to meditate 292 Of Friendship. [Essay xxvii. about. The power to do this completely, when we will, would be a great increase of happiness ; and this power, therefore, it is reasonable to suppose the blessed will possess in the world to come — that they will occupy their minds entirely with the thoughts of things agreeable, and in which their exertions can be of service ; and will be able, by an effort of the will, com- pletely to banish and exclude every idea that might alloy their happiness.' ^A desire to sequester a rnavi^s self for a higher conversation such as is found really and truly in divers of the ancient hermits a/nd holy fathers of the Church.'' Bacon here seems to agree in that commendation of a monastic life which is sometimes lieard even now from Pro- testants. On this subject I take leave to quote a passage from the Cautions for the Times. 'The monks are represented by Eoman-Catholic writers as all pious men, who, bent upon the cultivation of a religious temper of mind, withdrew from the world for that purpose ; as if the business and duties of this world were not the very discipline which God has appointed for cultivating real righteousness in us. And then, the learning, peace, and piety of the monas- teries is strongly contrasted with the ignorance and irreligion and perpetual wars, of the dark and troublous times, which are commonly called ' the middle ages,' in such a manner that even Protestants are sometimes led to think and say that, at least in former times, andybr those times, the monasteries were commendable institutions. But they forget that it was the very system of which these were a part, which made the world so dark and unquiet ; and then, like the ivy which has reduced a fine building to a shattered ruin, they held together the fragments of that ruin. ' Of course, if you teach men that holiness can be only, or can be best attained by withdrawing from the world into a cloister, all those who are bent on living a holy life will withdraw from the world; and they will, in so withdrawing, take from the world that which should reform it — the benefit of their teaching, and the encouragement of their example. One after another all those most promising men, who should have been, each in Essay xxvii.] Annotations. 293 the place wliere Providence had set him, ' the light of the world,' and ' the salt of the earth,' will leave the station to which God had called them, and seclude themselves within the walls of a monastery ; and then, in proportion as the influence of good men is removed more and more, society will become every day worse and worse. The business and pleasures of the world will be looked upon as necessarily sinful, and those who mix in them as necessarily unholy ; and the thought of using them as a discipline in godliness, and learning how to ' use this world without abusing it,' will be lost out of men's minds ; till at last, by the working of such a system, all appearance of piety will really be confined to the monasteries, and the common state of society, and the ordinary course of life, will be tainted with impurity, and distm-bed by violence, and the world will seem again, as it did in heathen times, to ' lie in wickedness.' When the SALT is thus drawn away from the mass, and collected to particular spots, the remainder is left to putrefy. ' Let us illustrate this by an example. Some, even English- men, who have visited Slave-States, are satisfied at being told that the slaves are far better off and more civilized there than in their own barbarian countries ; which is, probably, for the most part true. But why liave the African countries continued so long in gross barbarism ? They have long had intercourse with Europeans, who might have taught them to raise sugar and cotton, ifcc, at home, for tlie European markets, and in other ways might have civilized them. And it cannot be said that they are incapable of learning ; since free negroes in various countries, though they have the disadvantage of being a de- graded caste, are yet (however inferior to us) far advanced beyond the savage tribes of Africa. ' But it is the very slave-trade itself that has kept them bar- barians, by encouraging wars for the purpose of taking captives to be sold as slaves, and the villanous practices of kidnapping, and trading in each other's happiness and liberties. It is the very system itself, which men seek to excuse by pointing out the comfortable state of slaves when they are caught and sold, that, to a great extent, produces, and must, if persisted in, per- petuate, the barbarous condition with which this comparative comfort is contrasted. The whole of these African tribes miijht, under a better system, have enjoyed in freedom, far, very far, 294: Of Frienclshvp. [Essay xxvii greater comfort in their native land, than that which some of them now possess, as shxves, in a foreign land. 'So, also, in the case of the monasteries. Those who shnt themselves np there might have exercised a mnch better and more rational piety (like the Apostles and first Christians) out of them, and in the world ; and if they had lived amongst their fellow-men, wonld have helped to raise the whole tone of society around them. And it was just the same evil system which buried some good men (like lamps iu sepulchres) in the cells of monasteries, and made the general mass of society outside the wails of those establishments so bad, that it seemed to excuse their withdi'awal from it. ' It is to be acknowledged, indeed, that some monks some- times did some good for the rest of the world. They were often engaged in education, attendance on the poor, copying of manuscripts, agriculture, &c., and all these were really useful occupations. It is not to these things we object, when we object to monasteries; for with monasteries these have no necessary connection. 'Let associations be formed foe a good object, when need- ful ; instead of first forming an association as an end in itself, and then looking out for something for it to do ; else, that something, being a secondary matter, will sometimes be ill done, or neglected, and sometimes will be what had better be left undone.' * There is as much difference 'between the counsel that a friend giveth, and that a man glveth Mmself^ as there is between the counsel of a friend and of a flatterer. For there is no such flatterer as a man^s self I have already remarked, in tiie notes on ' Truth,' that men are in danger of exercising on themselves, when under the influence of some passion, a most pernicious oratorical power, by plead- ing the cause, as it were, each, before himself, of that passion. Suppose it anger, for instance, that he is feeling ; he is naturally disposed to dwell on, and amplify the aggravating circumstances of the supposed provocation, so as to make out a good case for himself. This of course tends to Jieighten his resentment, and Essay xxvii.] Annotations. 295 to satisfy him that he ' doth well to be angry ;' or perhaps to persuade him that he is not angry, but is a model of patience under intolerable wrongs. And the like takes place, if it be sellish cupidity, unjust partiality, party-spirit, or any other passion that may be operating. For, universally, men are but too apt to take more pains in justifying their propensities, than it would cost to control them. But besides the danger of self- deceit, when under the immediate influence of a passion, many a man deceives himself as to what really are his own natural tendencies. For instance, one who is somewhat inclined to the love of money may fancy himself remarkably liberal ; because every act of liberality will have^cost him such an effort, that he will think much of it, as a most heroic sacrifice. A man, again, who has much self-esteem, may fancy himself peculiarly modest and humble, because he will view, as it were, through a magnifying-glass any act of condescension, and will seem to himself to be lowering his own just pretensions, when he is taking upon himself less than he tliinks he has a fair claim to, though, in reality, more than is right. And so in other cases. Now, as the advice of a good physician may be of use in helping us to undei-stand our own bodily constitution, so a judicious friend, a wise and candid counsellor, may perform a like service in the important point of self-knowledge, and help to guard us against this kind of self-deceit. According to the Hindoo law, the penalty denounced against a breach of con- jugal fidelity is remitted only in case of the inducement to its commission having been the present of an eUpJiant, — this being considered a douceur too magnificent for any one to be expected to refuse. Now, in Europe, though an actual elephant is not the very thing that offers the strongest temptation, there is in most people's conscience something analogous to it ; and diffe- rent things are ' elephants' to different people. Happy is that man who has a faithful friend to remind him to be on the look- out for, and to help him to discover, his ' elephant.' * Observing our faults in others is sometimes improper for our case.'' It will always be improper for our case unless we make the right use of such observation, — which is, so to estimate the 296 Of Friendship. [Essay xxvii. temptations of others that we may the better understand our own. 'How is it men, when they in judgment sit On the same faults, now censure, now acquit? 'Tis not that they are to the error blind, But that a different object fills the mind. Judging of others, we can see too well Their grievous fall ; but not, how grieved they fell : Judging ourselves, we to our minds recall. Not how we fell, but how we grieved to fall.' — Crabbe, Tales of the Hall. But though ten thousand of the greatest faults in others are, to us, of less consequence than one small fault in ourselves, yet self-approval is so much more agreeable to us than self- examination, — which, as Bacon says, ' is a medicine sometimes too piercing and corrosive,' — that we are more ready to examine our neighbours than ourselves, and to rest satisfied with finding, or fancying, that we are better than they ; forgetting that, even if it really is so, hetter does not always imply good i and that pur course of duty is not like a race which is won by him who runs, however slowly, if the rest are still slower. It is this forgetfulness that causes bad examples to do much the greatest amount of evil among those who do not follow them. For, among the four kinds of bad examples that do us harm — namely, those we imitate — those we proudly exult over — those which drive us into an opposite extreme — and those which lower our standard., — this last is the most hurtful. For one who is corrupted by becoming as bad as a bad example, there are ten that are debased by being content with being better. But though this observing of faults in another is thus ' some- . times improper for our case' — and though, at any time, to dwell on the faults of another is wrong, — ^yet in the case of a friend, though not of a stranger, we are perhaps ready to fall into the opposite error, of overlooking them altogether, or of defending them. Now, it is absolutely necessary to perceive and acknowl- edge them : for, if we think ourselves bound to vindicate them in our friend, we shall not be very likely to condemn them in ourselves. Self-love, will, most likely, demand fair play, and urge that what is right in our friend is not wrong in us ; and we shall have been perverting our own principles of morality ; thus turning the friendship that might yield such ' fair fruit' into a baneful poison-tree. ^ssay xxvii.] A^motations. 297 ^he tu)o Tidblefndts of friendship {peace in the affections, and supjport of the judgment) follow the last fruit, which is, like tlie jyomegranate, full of many hernels . . . .' ' The manifold use of friendship^ One of these manifold uses of friendship is, the advantage, not noticed by Bacon, to be derived from a very, very discreet and pure-minded friend; that you may trust him to conceal from you some things which you had better not know. There are cases m which there is an advantage in knowing, and an advantage in not knowing; and the two cannot of course be combined, except by the thing being known to your other seh" — your ' alter ipse,' — and kept back from you. For instance, a man may have done something amiss ; your friend may say to him, ' I have not told my friend of this, and will not, provided you take care to discontinue the practice — to rectify what is done wrong, — to keep clear of any repetition, etc., as the case may be.' And he will be more encouraged to do so if he knows that your estimation of him is not as yet im- paired. And yet such a person has need to be carefully looked after ; which of com'se yom* friend will take care to do. And there are other cases also in which such a concealment will be advantageous. But of course one who can be so trusted must be, as has been said, one of consummate wisdom and integrity. It may be worth noticing as a curious circumstance, when persons past forty before they were at all acquainted, form together a very close intimacy of friendship. For grafts of old wood to take, there must be a wonderful congeniality between the trees. ESSAY XXVIII. OF EXPENSE. RICHES are for spending, and spending for honour and good actions — therefore extraordinary expense must be limited by the worth of the occasion : for voluntary undoing' mayite as well for a man's country as for the kingdom of heaven; but ordinary expense ought to be limited by a man's estate, and governed with such regard as^ it be within his compass ; and not subject to deceit and abuse of servants ; and ordered to the best show, that the bills may be less than the estimation abroad. Certainly, if a man will keep but of even hand, his ordinary expenses ought to be but to the half of his receipts ; and if he think to wax' rich, but to the third part. It is no baseness for the greatest to descend and look into their own estate. Some forbear it, not upon negligence alone, but, doubting* ta bring themselves into melancholy, in respect^ they shall find it broken : but wounds cannot be cured without searching. He that cannot look into his own estate at all had need both chuse well those whom he employ eth, and change them often; for new are more timorous and less subtle. He that can look into his estate but seldom, it behoveth him to turn all to certainties. A man had need, if he be plentiful in some kind of expense, to be as saving again in some other : as, if he be plentiful in diet, to be saving in apparel ; if he be plentiful in the hall, to be saving in the stable, and the like ; for he that is plentiful in expenses of all kinds, will hardly be preserved from decay. Li clearing of a man's estate, he may as well hurt himself in being too sudden as in letting it run on too long, for hasty selling is commonly as disadvantageable" as interest. Besides, he that clears at once will relapse, for, finding himself out of straits, he ' Undoing. Euin. ' He that ventures to be a surety for another, ventures un- doing for his sake.' — South. ^ As. That. See page 23. 'Wax. To grow; to become. See page 284. * Doubt. To fear. ' I do2ibt there's deep resentment in his mind.* — Otway. * In respect. In case. * Disadvantageable. JDisadvantageotis. ' The said court had given a very ais- advantageable relation of three great farms.' — Addison. I Essay xxviii.] Annotations. 299 will I'evert to liis customs ; but he that cleareth by degrees induceth a habit of frugality, aud gaineth as well upon his mind as upon his estate. Certainly, who^ hath a state to repair may not despise small things : and, commonly, it is less dis- honourable to abridge petty charges than to stoop to petty gettings^ A man ought warily to begin charges which, once begun, will continue ; but in matters that return not he may be more magnificent. ANNOTATIONS. ' Riches are for sjpending / and spending for honour.^ For those who are above the poorest classes, the heaviest, or some of the heaviest expenses are, as Bacon expresses it, ' for honour' — i. e. for the display of wealth. We do not, indeed, commonly speak of ' display of wealth' except when the wealth and the display of it are something unusually great. We speak rather of 'living in a decent or in a handsome style.' But this does certainly imply the purchase of many articles which we provide ourselves with 'because they are costly j — which are pro- vided in order to be observed, and observed as costly ; or, which comes to the same thing, because the absence of them would be observed as denoting shabbiness. For instance, a silver watch, or a gilt one, is as liseful as a gold one ; and beech or chei-ry- tree makes as useful furniture as mahogany or rose-wood. And as for the mere gratification to the eye, of the superior beauty of these latter, this is, to persons of moderate means, no sufficient set-off against the difterence of cost. Moreover, a bunch of wild flowei's, or a necklace of crab's-eye-seeds, &c., are as pretty to look at, and as becoming, as jewels or coral ; and if these latter were to become equally cheap, some other kind of deco- ration would be sought for, and prized on account of its known costliness. For, though people censure any one for making a display beyond his station, if he falls below it in what are considered ' Who. He who. See page 90. 800 Of Expense. [Essay xxviii. the decencies of liis station, lie is considered as either absurdly peniii'ious or else very poor. And why, it may be asked, should any one be at all ashamed of this latter, — supposing his poverty is not the result of any mis- conduct ? The answer is, that though poverty is not accounted by any pei'sons of sense disgraceful^ the exposure of it is felt to be a thing indecent : and though, accordingly, a right-minded man does not seek to make a secret of it, he does not like to ex- pose it, any more than he would to go without clothes. The Greeks and Romans had no distinct expressions for the 'disgraceful' and the 'indecent:' 'turpe' and aioxpov served to express both. And some of the ancient philosophers, especially the Cynics (see Cic. de Of.) founded paradoxes on this ambi- guity, and thus bewildered their hearers and themselves. For it is a great disadvantage not to have (as our language has) dis- tinct expressions for things really different. Tliere are several things, by the way besides those just attended to, which are of the character of, not disgraceful, but indecent : that is, of the existence of which we are not ashamed, but which we should be ashamed to obtrude on any one's notice : e. g. self-love, which is the deliberate desire for one's own happiness ; and regard for the good opinion of others. These are not — when not carried to excess — vices, and con- sequently are not disgraceful. Any vice a man wishes to be thought not to have j but no one pretends or wishes to be thought wholly destitute of all regard for his own welfare or for the good opinion of his fellow-creatures. But a man of sense and delicacy keeps these in the background, and, as it were, clothes them, because they become oflfensive when pro- minently displayed. And so it is with poverty. A man of sense is not ashamed of it, or of deliberately confessing it ; but he keeps the marks of it out of sight. These observations a person was making to a friend, who strenuously controverted his views, and could not, or would not, perceive the distinction above pointed out. ' I, for my part,' said he, ' am poor, and I feel no shame at all at its being known. Why, this coat that I now have on, I have had turned, because I could not well afford a new one ; and I care not who knows it.' He did not perceive that he had established the Essay xxviii.] Annotations. 301 very point he was controverting ; for if there had been, in liis view, nothing indecent in the disphiy of poverty, he would have worn the coat without turning. He might have had it scoured if needful ; but though clean, it would still have looked thread- bare ; and he did not like to make this display of poverty. ' Ordina/ry expense ought to he limited hy a man's estate.^ It is of course a great folly — and a very common one, — for a man to impoverish himself by a showy expenditure beyond his means. And it is a minor folly for him — without out- running — to make a display beyond his station, and to waste money on show such as was not expected of him, when he might, obviously, have found many better uses for it ; but when to chuse the time as to each point, would of course be no easy matter. Perhaps it may be laid down in reference to what may be called ornamental expense — anything that is not so strictly re- quired as a decency, that you would be censured and ridiculed for being without it, — that you should have such articles only as you can afford, not only to buy, but to replace / supposing them of a perishable nature. For, the ' honour,' as Bacon calls it, of any disj^lay of wealth, consists, surely, in not only having such and such articles, but having them without uneasiness ; — without any very anxious care about them. If you have a very fine set of china-ware, and are in a continual apprehension of its being broken, you had better, in point of respectability as well as of comfort, have been content with plain "Worcester. If a lady is in a perpetual fever lest some costly veil or gown should be soiled or torn, this indicates that she would have done better to wear a less costly di-ess. Tliere is something in what is said by little Sandford in the ' Tale,' who preferred a horn cup to one of silver, ' because it never made him uneasy.' Of course it is not meant that a man should not live in a house such as he could not afford with perfect ease to rebuild if it were burnt down ; or that he ought to be thus prepared to meet with other such extraordinary calamities. But he should be prepared to meet each kind of accident that each kind of article respectively is commonly liable to : e. g. glass and porce- lain to be broken, trinkets to be dropped and lost, horses to be 302 Of Expense. [Essay xxviii. lamed, &c. If you cannot face the ordinary and average amount of accidents witli respect to any such article, or if it is a matter of anxious care and uneasiness, you are better without it. For this anxious care and uneasiness proves that the ex-^ pense is a great one to you. You may indeed conceal this anxious care, and show, externally, a feigned composure andj indifierence. But then you are undergoing all this uneasiness,] — and also all this labour to hide this uneasiness, — for the sake of appearing richer than you are. But to one who has no wish ■ of this kind, the proper measure is, with a view to respectability, as well as peace of mind, not what expenses he can afford, but what he can habitually afford ^i\\\ow.i feeling them a grievous care. Of course higher motives come in, when one considers the good that may be done, to our friends and to the poor, by curtailing showy expenditure. It is wonderful how some people fail to perceive what an] absurd and ridiculous figure a man makes who is continually] bemoaning the narrowness of his means, and setting forth the| hardship of his case in not having a better income, wdiile he is sitting in a room full of inlaid tables, splendid inkstands anc boxes, and other costly gewgaws, which it is no discredit at aUI to be without, and which are thought desirable chiefly as aj display of wealth. ' It is no hasenessfor the greatest to descend and look into their own estate.^ It is worth remarking, as a curious circumstance, and the] reverse of what many would expect, that the expenses called for by a real or imagined necessity, of those, who have large in- comes, are greater in proportion than those of persons with.! slender means ; and that consequently a larger proportion of | what are called the rich, are in embarrassed circumstances, than I of the poorer. This is often overlooked, because the absolute\ nuinher of those with large incomes is so much less, that, of] course, the absolute number of persons under pecuniary difficul- ties in the poorer classes must fonn a very great majority. But] if you look to the proportions, it is quite the reverse. Take the] numbers of persons of each amount of income, divided into] classes, from £100 per annum up to £100,000 per annum, and] Essay xxviii.] Annotations. 303 jon will find the per centage of those who are under peenniary ditficulties continually augmenting as you go upwards. And when you come to sovereign States, whose revenue is reckoned by millions, you will hardly find one that is not deeply involved in debt ! Sp that it would appear that the larger the income, the harder it is to live within it. Bacon himself afibrds a most deplorable instance of this. With a very large income, he was involved by his extravagance in such pecuniary difiiculties as drove him to practice shameful corruptions^ "When men of great revenues, whether civil or ecclesiastical, live in the splendour and sensuality of Sardanapalus, they are apt to plead that this is expected of them ; which may be, perhaps, sometimes true, in the sense that such conduct is anticij)ated as probable ^ not true, as implying that it is re- quired or approved. I have elsewhere' reinarked upon this ambiguity in the word ' expect :' but it is worth noticing as sometimes leading, in conjunction with other causes, to a prac- tical bad eflect upon this point of expenses as well as upon many others. It is sometimes used in the sense of ' anticipate,' 'calculate on,' &c, {kXml^o)\ in short, 'consider as probable^ sometimes for ' require or demand as reasonable,' — consider as right' (afiw). Thus, I may fairly ' expect' (dfiw) that one who has received kindness from me, should protect me in distress ; yet I may have reason to expect {8Xm^eiv) that he will not. 'England expects every man to do his duty;' but it would be chimerical to expect, that is, anticipate, a universal per- formance of duty. What may reasonably be expected (in one sense of the word), must be precisely the practice of the majority : since it is the majority of instances that constitutes probability: what may reasonably be expected (in the other sense), is something much beyond the practice of the generality : as long, at least, as it shall be true, that ' narrow is the way that leadeth to life, and few there be that find it.' Elements of Logic, Appendix. 304: Of Expense. Essay xxviii. ' Se that is plentiful in expenses of all hinds will hardly he preserved from decay.'' Obviously true as this is, yet it is apparently completely over- looked by the imprudent spendthrift, who, finding that he is able to afford this, or that, or the other, expense, forgets that all of them together will ruin him language, is called the ' Fallacy of Composition.' This is what, in logical ESSAY XXIX. OF THE TRUE GREATNESS OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES.^ THE speech of Themistocles, the Athenian, which was hanglit j and arrogant, in taking so much to himself, had been a grave and wise observation and censure, applied at large to others. Desired at a feast to touch a lute, lie said, ' he could not fiddle, but yet he could make a small town a great city." These words (holpen' a little with a metaphor) may express two differing abilities in those that deal in business of estate ; for, if a true survey be taken of counsellors and statesmen, there may be found (though rarely) those which can make a small state great, and yet cannot fiddle, — as, on the other side, there will be found a great many that can fiddle very cunningly,* but yet are so far from being able to make a small State great, as* their gift lieth the other way — to bring a great and flourishing estate to ruin and decay. And, certainly, those degenerate arts and shifts, whereby many counsellors and governors gain both favour with their masters and estimation with the vulgar, deserve no better name than fiddling, being things rather pleasing for the time, and graceful to themselves only, than tending to the weal and advancement of the State which they serve. Tliere are also (no doubt) counsellors and governors which may be held suflicient, negotiis pares [able to manage aflairs,] and to keep them from precipices and manifest incon- veniences, which, nevertheless, are far from the ability to raise and amplify an estate in power, means, and fortune. But be the workmen what they may be, let us speak of the work — that is, the true greatness of kingdoms and estates, and the means thereof. An argmnent* fit for great and mighty princes to ' Estates. States. See page 134. " Plut. Vit. Themist. ad. init * Holpen. See page 211. * Cunningly. Skilfully. ' And many bard that to the trembling chord Can tune their timely voices cummigly.' — Spensei'. » As. That. See page 23. * Argument. Subject. 'Sad task! j^t argument Not less, but more, heroic than the wrath Of stern Achilles.' — Milton, 20 306 Of the True Oreatness of Kingdoms, c&c. [Essay xxix. have in tlieir hand ; to the end that neither by over-measuring their forces, they lose themselves in vain enterprises ; nor, on the other side, by undervaluing them, they descend to fearful and pusillanimous counsels. The greatness of an estate, in bulk and territory, doth fall under measure ; and the greatness of finances and i*e venue doth fall under computation. The population may appear by musters, and the number and greatness of cities and towns by cards and maps ; but yet there is not any thing, amongst civil affairs, more subject to error, than the right valuation and true judgment concerning the power and forces of an estate. The kingdom of heaven is compared, not to any great kernel, or nut, but to a grain of mustard-seed ;' wdiich is one of the least grains, but hath in it a property and spirit hastily to get up and spread. So are there States great in territory, and yet not apt to enlarge or command : and some that have but a small dimension of stem, and yet are apt^ to be the foundation of great monarchies. Walled towns, stored arsenals and armories, goodly races of horse, chariots of war, elephants, ordnance, artillery, and the like — all this is but a sheep in a lion's skin, except the breed and disposition of the people be stout and warlike. Nay, number (itself) in armies importeth^ not much, where the people are of weak courage ; for, as Virgil saith, ' It never troubles the wolf how many the sheep be.'* The army of the Persians, in the plains of Arbela, was siich a vast sea of people, as it did somewhat astonish the commanders in Alexander's army, who came to him, therefore, and wished him to set uj^on^ them by night; but he answered, 'He would not pilfer the. victory'^ — and the defeat was easy. Wlien Tigranes, the Ar- menian, being encamped upon a hill with four hundred thousand men, discovered the army of the Komans, being not above fom'teen thousand, marching towards him, he made himself men-y with it, and said, 'Yonder men are too many for an ' Ifatt. xiii. 31. " Apt. Qualified for ; adapted to. ' All that were strong and apt for war.'— 2 Kings. ^ Import. To be of importance. See page 21. * YirgU, Ed. vii. 51. * A. L. I. vii. 11. Essay xxix.] Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms^ &c. 307 ambassage/ and too few for a fight ;' but before the sunset, he found them enow'' to give him the chase withiniinite slaughter.' Many are the examples of the great odds between number and courage ; so that a man may truly make a judgment, that the principal point of greatness, in any State, is to have a race of military men. ^Neither is money the sinews of war (as it .is tri- vially said), where the sinews of men's arms in base and efiemi- nate people are failing; for Solon said well to Croesus (when in ostentation he showed him his gold), ' Sir, if any other come that hath better iron than you, he will be master of all this gold." Therefore, let any prince, or State, think soberly^ of his forces, except his militia of natives be of good and valiant soldiers ; and let princes, on the other side, that have subjects of martial dis- position, know their own strength, unless they be otlierwise wanting unto themselves. As for mercenary forces (which is the help in this case), all examples show that, whatsoever estate or prince doth rest upon them, he may spread his feathers for a time, but he will mew them soon after. The blessing of Judas and Issachar^ will never meet ; that the same people, or nation should be both the lion's whelp, and the ass between burdens, — neither will it be, that a people overlaid with taxes, should ever become valiant and martial. It is true, that taxes, levied by consent of the estate, do abate men's courage less, as it hath been seen notably^ in the excises of the Low Countries, and, in some degree, in the subsidies of England ; for, you must note, that we speak now of the heart, and not of the purse — so that although the same tribute and tax, laid ,by consent, or by imposing, be all one to the purse, yet it works diversely' upon the courage. So that you may * Ambassage. Embassy. ' He sendeth an ambassage, and desireth conditions of peace.' — Luke xiv. 32. "Enow. Old phiral of enowih. ' Man hath selfish foes enoxo besides, That day and night for liis desti'uction -wait.' — 3filion. ' Pint. Vii. Lnculli, 27. ^ Soberly. Moderately. ' Not to think of himself more highly than he ought to think, but to think soberly, — Roonaiis xii. 3. " Gen. xlLx. 9, 14. " Notably. In a remarkable manner. (From the adjective notable.) ' He is a most notable coward.' — Shakespere. ' Diversely. Differently. (From diverse.) See page 21. 308 Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms, <&g. [Essay xxix. conclude, that no people overcharged with tribute is tit for empire. Let States, that aim at greatness, take heed how their nobi- lity and gentlemen do multiply too fast ; for that maketh the common subject grow to be a peasant and base swain, driven out of heart, and, in effect, but a gentleman's labourer. Even as you may see in coppice woods, if you leave your straddles too thick, you shall never have clean underwood, but shrubs and bushes ; so in countries, if the gentlemen be too many, the commons will be base — and you will bring it to that, that not the hundreth poll will be fit for an helmet, especially as to the infantry, which is the nerve of an army, — and so there will be great population and little strength. This which I speak of hath been no where better seen than by comparing of England and France ; whereof England, though far less in territory and population, hath been, nevertheless, an overmatch : in regard' the middle people of England make good soldiers, which the peasants of France do not : herein the device of King Henry VII. (whereof I have spoken largely in the history of his life) was profound and admirable, in making farms and houses of hus- bandry of a standard, that is, maintained with such a proportion of land unto them, as may breed a subject to live in convenient plenty, and no servile condition; and to keep the plough in the hands of the owners, and not mere hirelings ; and thus indeed you shall attain to Virgil's character, which he gives to ancient Italy : — ' Terra potens armis atque iibere glebfe."' Neither is the estate^ (which for anything I know, is almost peculiar to England, and hardly to be found anywhere else, except it be, perhaps, in Poland) to be passed over — I mean the state of free servants and attendants upon noblemen and gentle- men, which are no ways inferior unto the yeomanry for arms : and therefore, out of all question, the splendour and magnifi- cence and great retinues, the hospitality of noblemen and gentlemen received into custom, do much conduce unto martial ' In regard. For the reason that; on account of. ' Change was thought neces- sary in regard of the injury the Church had received.' — Hooker. "■ Virg. uiJneid' i. 335 : — ' For deeds of arras and fertile soil renown'd.' ^Estate. Order of men, See page 134. Essay xxix.] Of the True Ch^eatness of Kingdoms^ c&c. 309 greatness — whereas, contrariwise, the close and reserved living of noblemen and gentlemen causeth a pennry of military forces. By all means it is to be procured,' that the trunk of Nebu- chadnezzar's tree of monarchy'' be great enough to bear the branches and the boughs ; that is, that the natural subjects of the crown, or State, bear a sufficient proportion to the strange subjects that they govern. Therefore all States that are liberal of naturalization towards strangers are fit for empire ; for to think that an handful of people can, with the greatest courage and policy in the world, embrace too large extent of dominion, it may hold for a time, but it will fail suddenly. The Spartans were a nice' people in point of naturalization ; whereby, wdiile they kept their compass, they stood firm, but when they did spread, and their boughs were become too great for their stem, they became a windfall upon the sudden. Never any State was, in this point, so open to receive strangers into their Body as were the Romans ; therefore it sorted^ with them accordingly, for they grew to the greatest monarchy. Their manner was to grant naturalization (which they called 'jus civitatis") — and to grant it in the highest degree, that is, not only 'jus commercii, jus connubii, jus hsereditatis,' but also 'jus suffragii' and 'jus honorum ;'°and this not to singular' persons alone, but likewise to whole families — ^yea, to cities, and sometimes to nations. Add to this, their custom of plantation of colonies, whereby the Roman plant was removed into the soil of other nations ; and, putting both constitutions together, you will say, that it was not the Romans that spread upon the world, but it was the world that spread upon the Romans — and that was the sure way of greatness. I have marvelled sometimes at Spain, how they clasp and contain so large dominions with so few natural Spaniards : but sure the whole compass of Spain is a very great * Procured. Contrived; cored for. ' Proceed, Salimis, to procure my fall.' — SJiakespere. ' Dan. iv. 10, seq. ^ Nice. Difficult. * Sort. To succeed; to happen. ' And if it sort not well.' — Shakespere. ' Tlie right of citizenship. " The right of traffic, the right of marriage, the right of inheritance, the right of voting, and the right of bearing offices. ^ Singular. Sinr/le. ' That which represents one determinate thing is called a singular idea ' — Watts, 810 Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms, <&c. [Essay xxix body of a tree, far above Rome and Sparta at the first ; and, besides, thougli they have not had that usage to naturalize liberally, yet they have that which is next to it — that is, to em- ploy, almost indifferently, all nations in their militia of ordinary soldiers, yea, and sometimes in their highest commands ; nay, it seemeth at this instant, they are sensible of this want of na- tives, as by the Pragmatical Sanction, now published, aj^peareth. It is certain, that sedentary and within-door arts, and delicate manufactures (that require rather the finger than the arm), have in their nature a contrariety to a military disposition ; and generally all warlike people are a little idle, and love danger better than travail' — neither must they be too much broken off it, if they shall be preserved in vigour : therefore it was great advantage in the ancient states of Sparta, Athens, Rome, and others, that they had the use of slaves, which commonly did rid^ those manufactures ; but that is abolished, in greatest part, by the christian law. That which cometh nearest to it is, to leave those arts chiefly to strangers (which, for that purpose, are the more easily to be received), and to contain the principal bulk of the vulgar natives within those three kinds — tillers of the ground, free servants, and handicraftsmen of strong and manly arts, as smiths, masons, carpenters, &c., not reckoning professed soldiers. But, above all, for emjiire and greatness, it importeth' most, that a nation do profess arms as their principal honour, study, and occupation ; for the things which we have formerly spoken of are but habilitations' towards arms ; and what is habilitation without intention and act ? Romulus, after his death (as they report, or feign), sent a present' to the Romans, that above all they should intend' arms, and then they should prove the * Travail. Toil; labour. 'As every thing of price, so this doth require travail.' — Hooker. '' Rid. To dispatch. ' We'll thither straight ; for willingness rids way.' — Shakespere. * Import. To be of importance. See page 21. * Habilitation. Qualification. 5 Present. A mandate. ' Be it known to all men by these presents' — Shakespere. 6 Intend. To pay attention to. ' Go, therefore, mighty Powers ! intend at home, While here shall be our home what best may ease The present misery.' — Milton. Essay xxix.] Of the True Cheatness of Kingdoms., &g. oil greatest empire of the world. The fabric of the State of Sparta was wholly (though not wisely) framed and composed to that scope and end : the Persians and Macedonians had it for a flash ; the Gauls, Germans, Goths, Saxons, Normans, and others, had it for a time ; the Turks have it at this day, though in great declination. Of christian Europe, they that have it are, in efi'ect, only the Spaniards ; but it is so plain, that every man proliteth in that he most intendeth, that it needeth not to be stood upon ; it is enough to point at it — that no nation which doth not directly profess arms, may look to have great- ness fall into their mouths : and, on the other side, it is a most certain oracle of time, that those States that continue long in that profession (as the Romans and Turks principally have done), do wonders ; and those that have professed arms but for an age have, notwithstanding, commonly attained that greatness in that age which maintained them long after, when their pro- fession and exercise of arms hath grown to decay. Incident to this point is for a State to have those laws or customs which may reach forth unto them just occasions (as may be pretended') of war ; for there is that justice imprinted in the nature of men, that they enter not upon wars (whereof so many calamities do ensue), but upon some, at the least specious, grounds and quarrels. The Turk hath at hand, for cause of war, the propagation of his law or sect, a quarreP that he may always command. The Romans, though they esteemed the extending the limits of their empire to be great honour to their generals when it was done, yet they never rested upon that alone to begin a war. First, therefore, let nations that pretend to greatness have this, that the}^ be sensible of wrongs, either upon borderers, merchants, or politic ministers ; and that they sit not too long upon a provocation : secondly, let them be prest' and ready to give aids and succours to their confederates, as it ever was with the Romans ; insomuch, as if the confede- rates had leagues defensive with divers other States, and, upon * Pretend. To put forward. ' And his left foot pretends.' — Dryden. ^ Quarrel. Reason ; ground for any action. See page 86. * Prest. Eager; quick. ' Each mind is prest, and open every ear. To hear new tidings.' — Fairfax. "They pour'd^ces% into the hall.' — Old Ballad, 1727. 312 Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms, <&g. [Essay xxix. invasion oifered, did implore their aids severally, yet the Komans would ever be the foremost, and leave it to none other to have the honour. As for the wars, which were anciently made on the behalf of a kind of party, or tacit conformity of state, I do not see how they may be well justified ; as when the Romans made a war for the liberty of Grsecia,' or when the Lacedaemonians and Athenians made w^ar to set up or pull down democracies and oligarchies ; or when wars were made by foreigners, under the pretence of justice or protection, to deliver the subjects of others from tyranny and oppression, and the like. Let it suffice, that no estate expect to be great, that is not awake upon any just occasion of arming. No body can be healthful without exercise, neither natural body nor politic; and certainly to a kingdom or estate, a just and honourable war is the true exercise. A civil war, indeed, is like the heat of a fever : but a foreign war is like the heat ol exercise, and serveth to keep the body in health ; for in a slothful peace, both courages will efieminate," and manners corrupt : but howsoever it be for happiness, without all question for greatness, it maketh to be still for the most part in ai-nis : and the strength of a veteran army (though it be a chargeable business), always on foot, is that which commonly giveth the law, or, at least, the reputation amongst all neighbour States, as may be well seen in Spain ; which hath had, in one part or other, a veteran army almost continually, now by' the space of six-score years. To be master of the sea* is an abridgment of a monarchy, Cicero, writing to Atticus of Pompey's preparation against Caesar, saitli, ' Concilium Pompeii plane Themistocleum est ; putat enim, qui mari potitur, eum rerum potiri ;' and without doubt, Pompey had tired out Caesar, if upon vain confidence he had not left that way. We see the great efi'ects of battles by sea : the battle of Actium decided the empire of the world ; the battle of Lepanto arrested the greatness of the Turk. Tliere be many examples ' Grsecia. Greece. 'And the rough goat is the King of G-recia' — Dan. viii. 21. * Effeminate. To become effem'inate or weak. ' In a slothful prince, courage will effeminate.' — Pope. ^ By. During. 'By the space of three years I ceased not to warn every one, night and day, with tears.' — Actn xx. 31. * 'Pompey's plan is plainly from Themistoeles ; for he judges that whoever becomes master of the sea is master of all things.' — Ad. Attic, x. 8. i i Essay xxix.] Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms^ c&c. 313 where sea-fights have been final to the war ; hut this is when princes, or States, have set up their rest upon the battles ; but thus much is certain, that he that commands the sea is at great Hberty, and may take as much and as little of the war as he will ; whereas those that be strongest by land are many times, nevertheless, in great straits. Surely, at this day, with us of Europe, the vantage' of strength at sea (which is one of the principal dowries of this kingdom of Great Britain) is great ; both because most of the kingdoms of Europe are not merely' inland, but girt with the sea most part of their compass, and because the wealth of both Lidies seems, in great part, but an accessory to the command of the seas. The wars of later ages seem to be made in the dark, in respect of the glory and honour which reflected upon men from the wars in ancient time. There be now, for martial encourage- ment, some degrees and orders of chivalry, which, nevertheless, are conferred promiscuously upon soldiers and no soldiers, and some remembrance perhaps upon the escutcheon, and some hos- pitals for maimed soldiers, and such like things ; but in ancient times, the trophies erected upon the place of the victory, the funeral laudatives^ and monuments for those that died in the wars, the crowns and garlands personal, the style of emperor, which the great kings of the world after borrowed, the triumphs of the generals upon their return, the great donatives and largesses upon the disbanding of the armies, were things able to inflame all men's courages; but, above all, that of the triumph amongst the Romans was not pageants, or gaudery,'* but one of the wisest and noblest institutions that ever was : for it con- tained three things, honour to the general, riches to the treasury out of the spoils, and donatives to the army : but that honour, perhaps, were not fit for monarchies, except it be in the person of the monarch himself, or his sons ; as it came to pass in the times of the Roman emperors, who did impropriate^ the actual ' Vantage. Advantage. ' Yet you have all the vantage of her wrong.' — Shakespere. " Merely. Completely. ' Laudatives. Panegyrics. ' The first was a laudative of monarchy.' — Bacon h Speech. * Gaudery. Ostentations finery. ' The utmost gaudery of youth.' — South. * Impropriate. Appropriate. ' A supercilious tyranny, impropriating the Spirit of God to themselves.' — Milton. 314 Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms, c&g. [Essay xxix. triiimplis to themselves and tlieir sons, for such wars as they did achieve in person, and left only for wars achieved by subjects some triumphal garments and ensigns to the general. To conclude. No man can by care-taking (as the Scripture saith) ' add a cubit to his stature,' in this little model of a man's body ; but in the great frame of kingdoms and commonwealths, it is in the power of princes, or estates, to add amplitude and greatness to their kingdoms ; for by introducing such ordinances, constitutions, and customs, as we have now touched,' they may BOW greatness to their postei'ity and succession. But these things are commonly not observed, but left to take their chance. ANNOTATIONS. ' All states that are liberal of naturalization towards strangei-s are fit for empire.'' What Bacon says of naturalization is most true, and important, and not enough attended to. But he attributes more liberality in this point to the Romans than is their due. He seems to have forgotten their ' Social War,' brought on entirely by tlieir refusal to admit their subjects to civil rights. It is remarkable that, under the kings, and again under the emperors, there was the most of this liberality, and under the Republic, the least. This is quite natural : when it is the citizens that govern, they naturally feel jealous of others being admitted to an equality with them ; but the sovereign has no reason to wish that one class or portion of his subjects should have an in- vidious advantage over another. There is an exception to this in cases where religious fanaticism comes in ; as is to be seen in the Turkish empire, where christian subjects have always been kept as a kind of Helots. On the ruinous results of keeping a portion of the people in Buch a state, I have already dwelt in the notes to the Essay on ' Seditions and Trovibles.' A somewhat similar disadvantage in respect of advancement * Touch. To treat slightly. ' If the antiquaries have touched it, they have ■ immediately quitted it.' — Addison. I Essay xxix.] Annotations. 315 in virtue, at least, would attend any community wliose institu- tions were such as tended to arm against the laws large bodies of such persons, as were not, in the outset, destitute of all moral principle, but whose mode of life was a fit training to make them become so. Such are poachers and smugglers. An excessive multiplication of the latter class is produced by the enactment of laws, whose object is, not revenue, but the exclusion of foreign productions for the supposed benefit of domestic industry. Whatever may be thought of the expediency of those laws with a view to national wealth, all must agree that the extension of smuggling must produce the most demo- ralizing eflfects. ^Howsoever it he for happiness, without all question, for great- ness, it maketh to he still for the niostjpart in arms.'' It is consolatory to think that no one would now venture to write, as Bacon does, about wars of aggrandizement. But it was the doctrine of his day; and of times not only much earlier, but also much later than his ; for the same sentiments are to be found in authors near two centuries after Bacon. True it is, we are still bad enough in practice ; but the theory must come first ; and we may hope the practice will t\)now in time. It is certain that the folly as well as the wickedness of wars of aggrandizement is much better understood, and more freely acknowledged, than even fifty years back. And to the shame of Christians, it must be admitted that the more correct discernment of the costliness and consequent inexpediency of even a successful war of conquest — which are every day becom- ing better understood — operates more in making men j)ause before they enter into a war, than motives of Inimanity. The much-agitated questions as to the allowableness of defen- sive war, need not be here discussed. The reader is referred to the Lessons on Mw^als (L. 14, § 5), where it is pointed out that those who hold the principle of complete non-resistance, can- not consistently resort to the law to enforce payment of a debt, or to obtain protection of any kind ; since it is manifest tliat the law rests ultimately on the appeal to physical force. As to the general question concerning the right of self- defence, it would evidently become a merely speculative one, 316 Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms, c&c. [Essay xxix. and not at all practical, if all States and all individuals, would abstain from aggression; since, then there would be no outrages to repel. But as it is, every State, and every individual, that does abstain from all aggression, is so much gained to the cause of humanity. If, however, the principle of no7i-7'es{stance were adopted by some States, and not by all, this would give up the peaceable to be subjugated by an ambitious and unscrupulous neighbour And, moreover, they would not even enjoy peace after alb For, the conqueror would doubtless seek to recruit his armies for fresh conquests, from the subjugated nations. And though the adults might steadily refuse to fight for hira, and prefer torture or death, he w^ould probably take the finest of their male children to be trained in military seminaries ; as was foi-merly done by the Turks to their christian subjects ; whose children formed the original corps of Janissaries : so that the non-resist- ing people would have to see tw^o or three hundred thousand of their finest youths serving in the wars of an ambitious con- queror. It is important to observe that whatever can be urged in vin- dication of bearing arms, is applicable only to the case of a man serving his own country ; not, of one who enlists in a foreign army ; however just — for them — may be the war they are en- gaged in. This practice, though countenanced, unhappily by some persons who are accounted respectable, is surely quite un- justifiable on christian principles. If one who has deliberately gone about to take the lives of men with whom his country was not at war, should be tried — as there seems good reason he should be, — for murder, he could not fairly plead the sanction or command o^ foreign rulers, who had no right over him, and under wliom he has placed himself hy his own voluntary act, for the express purpose of fighting their battles. What used to mislead men, and still misleads not a few as to the costliness of w^ar, and the check it gives to national pros- perity is, that they see the expenditure go to our own fellow- subjects. We pay a great deal, it is true, out of the public purse, to soldiers ; but then it is our soldiers, the Queen's subjects, that get it. Powder, and guns, and ships of war, cost a great deal ; but this cost is a gain to the manufacturers of powder and guns, &c. And thus people brought themselves to fancy that the country altogether did not sustain any loss at Essay xxix.] Annotations. 317 all. This very doctrine is distinctly maintained by Coleridge, in his periodical, The Friend, within the present century. He censures very strongly some who had bewailed a ' few millions' of war expenditure, and who had pointed out how many roads might have been made, and fens drained, and other beneficial works accomplished with this money. Coleridge contends against this that the country had not lost it at all, since it was all spent on our own people ; and he parallels it with such cases as that of a man losing money at cards to his own wife, or transferring it from one pocket to another. He was extremely fond of discussing what are really questions of political economy (though the iiame of it he disliked) and in which he almost always went wrong. Of course, if a heavy expenditure is incurred in armaments, when necessary for the defence of our just rights, this is not to be accounted a waste, any more than the cost of bolts and locks to keep out thieves. But the argument of Coleridge does not at all look to any such necessity, but would equally hold good if the money had been expended in gunpowder to be exploded in fire-works, or in paying soldiers for amusing us with sham fights, or for playing cricket. For, in that case also, the ex- penditure would have gone to our own people equally. The fallacy consists in not perceiving that though the labour of the gunpowder-makers, soldiers, &c., is not unproductive to thein, inasmuch as they are paid for it, it is unproductive to us, as it leaves no valuable results. If gunpowder is employed in blasting rocks, so as to open a rich vein of ore or coal, or to make a useful road, the manufacturer gets his payment for it j ust the same as if it had been made into fire-works ; but then, the mine, or the road, will remain as an article of wealth to him who has so employed it. After having paid for the powder he will still be richer than he was before ; wdiereas, if he had employed it for fire-works, he would have been so much the poorer, since it would have left no results. When, however, war-expenditure does result in the conquest of some territory, and this territory brings in some tribute, or other profit beyond the cost of conquering it and keeping it in subjection — which is not often the case, — then, it must be admitted — waiving all considerations of justice and humanity — that something has been gained. But the revenue thus wrested 818 Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms^ <&c. [Essay xxix. from a subjugated countiy must evidently impoverisli the one party as much (at least) as it enriches the other. The people of the conquered territory have to pay for heing ill gonerned ', and their increase in prosperity is checked ; while the greater part of what is taken from them goes to pay the garrisons that keep them in submission. On the other hand, the revenue derived from other lands by commerce, enriches hotli parties ; since the exchange of a cargo of hardware, for instance, for a cargo of silks, implies that the one who parts with the silk for the hardware finds the latter the more valuable to him; and vice versa. And thus both advance in prosperity. From all the extensive provinces which the Romans held under their sway, the English, without holding them in subjec- tion at all, derive many times the revenue that the Romans did ; since our commerce with them has caused them to advance and to go on still advancing in prosperity. If the Czar had spent half what he has spent in encroaching on his neighbours, in making roads, and draining marshes, and in other ways improving his own soil, he would have had nnich more of the true ' greatness of empire,' and a greatness far less likely to be overthrown by other States. For, as a general rule, States are not exempt from the influences of the same causes which, in the affairs of individuals, produce good or bad success. Tliat the general tendency of each particular virtue and vice in individuals is, to produce corresponding worldly advantages and disadvantages, is a doctrine which, in a specu- lative point of view at least, few would be disposed to contro- vert. And though this general rule admits of such numerous exceptions, that a right-minded and considerate man would not venture, in the case of any individual, to infer, that his success in life had precisely corresponded with his deserts, or decidedly to promise, for example, prosperity to the honest, frugal, and industrious, and denounce certain ruin to the profligate ; yet he would not feel the less convinced of the certainty of the general rule, — that such conduct wnll, for the most part, be attended with such consequences. Thus, though we are not to believe that regular temporal rewards and punishments are dispensed under the moral government of God to nations, yet the general rule by which temperance, and integrity, and industry tend, in < Essay xxix.] Annotations. 310 private life to promote each man's liealtli, and reputation, and prosperity, is applicable to nations also. Unprincipled agres- sion will usually provoke, sooner or later, a formidable retalia- tion ; and, on the other hand, moderation and good faith have manifestly a general tendency to promote peace and internal prosperity. And thus it is that religion, which produces tliese fruits of moderation and good faitli, has an indirect, as well as a direct, influence on national character. Its direct effects few will be disposed to deny, even of those wlio believe in no religion ; since, of several different form of superstitious error, supposing all religions to be such, one may at least be more compatible with moral improvement than another. But it has an indirect effect also, through its influence on national prosperity. To take, for instance, the point of which w^e have just been speaking : — War, the direct demoralizing effects of which are probably still greater than its impoverishing effect, would be wholly unknown, if Christianity were heartily and generally embraced ; and, even as it is, it has been much mitigated by that humanizing influ- ence. Slavery, too, equally demoralizing and impoverishing, would cease ; and if both Slavery and War were at an end, the wealth of nations w^ould increase, — but their civilization, in the most important points, would increase in a still greater ratio. That this ^progressive civilization, this advancement of man- kind, not merely as individuals, but as communities, — is the design of the Almighty Creator, seems evident from the }>rovi- sion made by his divine Wisdom for the progress of society. This provision is, I think, manifest in many portions of man's conduct as a member of society, in which is to be traced the operation of impulses which, while tending immediately to some certain end contemplated by the agent, and therefore rational, may yet, as far as respects another and quite different end he did not contemplate, be referred to a kind of instinct, or some- thing analogous to instinct, which leads him, while doing one thing by choice for his own benefit, to do another undesignedly, under the guidance of Providence, for the service of the community. But there is nothing in which this providential guidance is more liable to be overlooked — no case in which w^e are more apt to mistake for the wisdom of Man what is, in truth, the wisdom of God. 820 Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms^ (&c. [Essay xxix. In tlie results of instinct in brutes, we are sure, not only that, although the animals themselves are, in some sort, agents, they could not originally have designed the effects they pro- ' duced, but that even afterwards they have no notion of the combination by which these are brought about. But when human conduct tends to some desirable end, and the agents are competent to perceive that the end is desirable, and the means well adapted to it, they are apt to forget that, in the great majority of instances, those means were not devised, nor those ends proposed, by the persons themselves who are thus em- ployed. The workman, for instance, who is employed in casting printing-types, is usually thinking only of producing a connnodi- ty by the sale of which he may support himself; with reference to this ohject^ he is acting, not from any impulse that is at all of the character of instinct, but from a rational and deliberate choice : but he is also, in the very same act, contributing most powerfully to the diifusion of knowledge ; about which, perhaps, he has no anxiety or thought ; in reference to this latter object^ therefore, his procedure corresponds to those operations of various animals which we attribute to instinct ; since they^ doubtless, derive some immediate gratification from what they are doing. Indeed, in all departments connected with the ac- quisition and communication of knowledge, a similar procedure may be traced. The greater part of it is the gift, not of human, but of divine benevolence, which has implanted in Man a thirst after knowledge for its own sake, accompanied with a sort of instinctive desire, founded probably on sympathy, of communi- cating it to others as an ultimate end. This, and also the love of display, are no doubt inferior motives, and will be superseded by a higher principle, in proportion as the individual advances in moral excellence. These motives constitute, as it were, a kind of scafiolding, which should be taken down by little and little, as the perfect building advances, but which is of indis- pensable use till that is completed. It is to be feared, indeed, that Society would fare but ill if none did service to the Public, except in proportion as they possessed the rare moral and intellectual endowment of an enlightened public spirit. For, such a spirit, whether in thei form of patriotism, or that of philanthropy, implies not merelyl henevolent feelings stronger than, in fact, we commonly meet ^ Essay xxix.] Annotations. 321 with, but also powers of abstraction beyond what the mass of mankind can possess. As it is, many of the most important objects are accomplished by unconscious co-operation ; and that, with a certainty, completeness, and regularity, which probably the most diligent benevolence under the guidance of the greatest human wisdom, could never have attained. For instance, let any one propose to himself the problem of supplying with daily provisions the inhabitants of such a city as London — that ' province covered with houses.' Let any one consider this problem in all its bearings, reflecting on the enormous and fluctuating number of persons to be fed, — the immense quantity of the provisions to be furnished, and the variety of the supply (not, as for an army or garrison, compara- tively uniform) — the importance of a convenient distribution of them, and the necessity of husbanding them discreetly, lest a deficient supply, even for a single day, should produce distress, or a redundancy produce, from the perishable nature of many of them, a corresponding waste ; and then let him reflect on the anxious toil which such a task would impose on a Board of the most experienced and intelligent commissaries, who, after all, would be able to discharge their office but very inadequately. Yet this object is accomplished far better than it could be by any efibrt of human wisdom, through the agency of men who think each of nothing beyond his own innnediate interest — who are merely occupied in gaining a fair livelihood ; and with this end in view, without any comjjrehensive wisdom, or any need of it, they co-operate, unknowingly, in conducting a sys- tem which, we may safely say, no human wisdom directed to that end could have conducted so well — the system by which this enormous population is fed from day to day — and comljine unconsciously to employ the wisest means for etfecting an object, the vastness of which it would bewilder them even to contem- plate. I have said, ' no human wisdom ;' for wisdom there surely is in this adaptation of the means to the result actually produced. And admirable as are the marks of contrivance and design in the anatomical structure of the human body, and in the instincts of the brute creation, I know not whether it does not even still more excite our admiration of the beneficent wisdom of Pro- vidence, to contemplate, not corporeal particles, but rational, 21 322 Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms^ <&g. [Essay xxix. free agents, co-operating in systems no less manifestly indicating design, yet no design of theirs ; and though acted on, not by gravitation and impulse, like inert matter, but by motives addressed to the will, yet advancing as regularly, and as efltec- tually, the accomplishment of an object they never contemplated, as if they were the mere passive wheels of a machine. If one may, without presumption, speak of a more or less in reference to the works of Infinite Wisdom, I would say, that the branch of Natural Theology with which we are now concerned, presents to the reflective mind views even more striking than any other. The heavens do indeed 'declare the glory of God;' and the human body is 'fearfully and wonderfully made;' but Man, considered not merely as an organized Being, but as a rational agent, and as a member of society, is perhaps the most won- derfully contrived, and to us the most interesting, specimen of divine Wisdom that we have any knowledge of. lioXXa ra 6eiva}K* ovdev dvdpwrrov deivorephv tteXei. Now, it seems to me that, to this proof, that it is the design of almighty Providence that mankind should advance in civili- zation, may be added one drawn from the fact that, in proportion as the religion of the Bible is embraced, and men become subjects to the revealed law of God, civilization progresses. ' And here I would remark, that I do not profess to explain why, in so many particular instances, causes have been permitted to operate, more or less, towards the frustration of this general design, and the retardation, or even reversal, of the course of improvement. The difficulty in fact, is one which belongs, not to this alone, but to every branch of Natural Theology. In every part of the universe we see marks of wise and benevolent design ; and yet we see in many instances apparent frustrations of this design ; we see the productiveness of the earth inter- rupted by unfavourable seasons — the structure of the animal- frame enfeebled, and its functions impaired, by disease — and vast multitudes of living Beings exposed, from various causes,' to suffering, and to premature destruction. In the moral and political world, w^ars, and civil dissension — tyrannical govern- ments, unwise laws, and all evils of this class, correspond to the inundations — the droughts — ^the tornados, and the earth- quakes, of the natural world. We cannot give a satisfactory account of either ; — we cannot, in short, explain the great diffi- Essay xxix,] Annotations. 323 culty, which, in proportion as we reflect attentively, we shall more and more perceive to be the only difiiculty in theology, the existence of evil in the Universe. Yet how many, in almost every past age (and so it will be, I suppose, in all future ages), have shown a tendency towards such presumption as that of our first parents, in seeking to pass the limits appointed for' \\\q human faculties, and to 'be as Gods, KNOWING GOOD AND EVIL.' ' But two things we cam, accomplish ; which are very impor- tant, and which are probably all that our present faculties and extent of knowledge can attain to. One is, to perceive clearly that the difiiculty in question is of no unequal pressure, but bears equally heavy on Deism and on Christianity, and on the various difi'erent interpretations of the christian scheme ; and consequently can furnish no valid objection to any one scheme of religion in particular. Even atheism does not lessen our difiiculty ; it only alters the character of it. For as the believer in a God is at a loss to account for the existence of evil, the believer in no God is equally unable to account for the exis- tence of good ; or indeed of anything at all that bears marks of design. ' Another point which is attainable is, to perceive, amidst all the admixture of evil, and all the seeming disorder of conflicting agencies, a general tendency nevertheless towards the accom- plishment of wise and beneficent designs. 'As in contemplating an ebbing tide, we are sometimes in doubt, on a short inspection, whether the sea is really receding, because, from time to time, a wave will dash further up the shore than those which had preceded it, but, if we continue our observation long enough, we see plainly that the boundary of the land is on the whole advancing ; so here, by extending our view over many countries and through several ages, we may distinctly perceive the tendencies which would have escaped a more confined research.' ESSAY XXX. OF REGBIEN OF HEALTH. T^HERE is a wisdom in this beyond the rules of j)hysic : a -^ man's own observation, what he finds good of/ and what he finds hurt of, is the best physic to preserve heahh ; but it is a safer conchision to say, ' This agreeth not well with me, therefore I will not continue it,' than this, ' I find no ofience' of this, therefore I may use it :' for strength of nature in youth passeth over many excesses which are owing a man till his age. Discern of the coming on of years, and think not to do the same things still ; for age will not be defied. Beware of sudden change in any great point of diet, and if necessity enforce it, fit the rest to it ; for it is a secret, both in nature and state, that it is safer to change many things than one. Examine thy customs of diet, sleep, exercise, apparel, and the like, and try, in anything thou shalt judge hurtful, to discontinue it by little and little ; but so as^ if thou dost find any inconvenience by the change, thou come back to it again ; for it is hard to dis- tinguish that which is generally held good and wholesome, from that which is good particularly, and fit for thine own body. To be free-minded and cheerfully disposed at hours of meat* and sleep, and of exercise, is one of the best precepts of long lasting. As for the passions and studies of the mind, avoid envy, anxious fears, anger, fretting inwards, subtle and knotty inquisitions, joys and exhilarations in excess, sadness not com- municated. Entertain hopes, mirth rather than joy, variety of delights rather than surfeit of them ; wonder and admiration, and therefore novelties ; studies that fill the mind with splendid and illustrious objects, as histories, fables, and contemplations of nature. If you fly physic in health altogether, it will be too strange for your body when you shall need it ; if you make it ' Of. Fron. See page 283. /Offence. Hurt; damage. (Kow seldom applied to physical injury.) 'The pains of the touch are greater than the offences of other senses.' — Bacon. ' To do offence and scath in Christendom.' — Shakespere. » As. That. See page 23. * Meat. Food ; meals. ' As he sat at his meat, the music played sweet.' — Old Ballad. Essay xxx.] Annotations. 325 too familiar, it will work no extraordinary effect when sickness Cometh. I connnenc? rather some diet for certain seasons, than frequent use of physic, except it be grown into a custom ; for those diets alter the body more, and trouble it less. Despise no new accident in your body, but ask opinion of it. In sick- ness, respect" health principally, and in health, action ; for those that put their bodies to endure in health, may in most sick- nesses which are not very sharp, be cured only with diet and tendering. Celsus could never have spoken it as a physician, had he not been a wise man withal, wdien he giveth it for one of the great precepts of health and lasting, that a man do vary and interchange contraries, but with an inclination to the more benign extreme ; use fasting and full eating, but rather full eating ; watching and sleep, but rather sleep ; sitting and exer- cise, but rather exercise, and the like ; so shall nature be cherished and yet taught masteries. Physicians are some of them so pleasing and conformable to the humour of the patient, as^ they press not the true cure of the disease ; and some others are so regular in proceeding according to art for the disease, as they respect not sufficiently the condition of the patient. Take one of a middle temper, or, if it may not be found in one man, combine two of either* sort ; and forget not to call as well the best acquainted with your body, as the best reputed of for his faculty. ANNOTATIONS. It is remarkable that Bacon should have said nothing in this Essay, of early and late hours ; though it is a generally received opinion that early hours are conducive to longevity. There is a proverb that ' Early to bed, and early to nse, Makes a mau liealthy, and wealtlij', and wise.' ' Commend. To recmnmend. ' I commend unto you Phoebe, our sistei'.' — Romans xvi. 1. "Respect. Have regard to. 'In judgment seats, not man's qualities, but causes only ought to be respected.' — Kettleworth. ' As. Tliat. See page 23. * Either. Each. ' On either side of the river.' — Rev. xxii. 2. 326 Of Begim&n of Health. [Essay xxx. And this is the more remarkable as being the proverb of a nation whose hours are the latest of any. It is reported of some judge, that whenever a witness came before him of extraordinary age (as is often the case when evidence is required relative to some remote period) he always inquired into the man's habits of life ; and it is said that he found the greatest diiFerences between them (some temperate, and others free-livers ; some active, and some sedentary), except in the one point that they were all early risers. On the connection between early hours and longevity, the late Mr. Davison wittily remarked that this may be the mean- ing of the fabled marriage of Tithonus and Aurora. ' Longa Tithonum minuit senectus.' Some have said, that this matter admits of easy explanation. ' As men grow old they find them- selves tired early in the evening, and accordingly retire to rest ; and hence, in the morning, they find themselves wakeful, and rise.' Now, if it be stated as an ultimate fact., not to be ac- counted for, that those who have kept late hours in their youth, adopt, from inclination, early hours as they grow old, then this statement, whether true or felse (and it is one which would not be generally admitted), is at least intelligible. But if it be offered as an explanation, it seems like saying that the earth stands on an elephant, arid the elephant on a tortoise, and the tortoise again, on the earth. An old man rises early because he had gone to bed early : and he goes to bed early, because he had risen early ! Some, when dissuading you from going to bed late, will urge that it is bad to have too little sleep ; and when advising you not to lie a-bed late, wall urge that it is bad to have too much sleep ; not considering that early or late hours, if they do but correspond with themselves, as to the times of retiring and rising, have nothing to do with the quantity of sleep. For if one man goes to bed at ten, and rises at six, and another goes to bed at two in the morning, and rises at ten, each has the same number of hours in bed. K the one of these is (as is generally believed) more healthful than the other, it must be From some different cause. If the prevailing belief be correct, it would seem that there must be some mysterious connexion between the human frame, and the earth's rotation. And this is further indicated by that Essay xxx.] Annotations. 327 instinctive perception which most people have, in certain cases, of the rest-time. It is well known that any one who has been long- accustomed to rise at a certain hour, will usually Avake at that hour, tohatcver may have been the time of his going to bed. It might have been expected that one who had been used to a certain number of hours' sleep, would, if on some occasion lie retired to rest an hour or two earlier, or later, than usual, wake so much the earlier, or later, when he had had the ac- customed time of sleep. But the fact is generally otherwise. He will be likely to wake neither before nor after the accus- tomed hour. This, again, may be relied on as a fact : a student at one of the universities, finding that his health was suifering from hard study and late hours, took to rising at five and going to bed at ten, all the year round ; and found his health — though he read as hard as ever — manifestly improved. But he found himself unable to compose anything in the morning, though he could take in the sense of an author equally well. And having to write for a prize, he could not get his thoughts to flow till just about his usual bedtime. Thinking that this might have some- thing to do with the digestion, he took to dining two hours earlier, in the hopes that then eight o'clock would be to him the same as ten. But it made no difference. And after per- severing in vain attempts for some time, he altered his hours, and for one week, till he had finished his essay, sat up and wrote at night, and lay a-bed in the morning. He could revise and correct in the day-time what he had written ; but could not compose except at night. When his essay was finished, he re- turned to his early habits. Now this is a decisive answer to those who say 'it is all custom J you write better at night, because that is the time you have been accustomed to emj)loy for study ;' for here the custom was just the reverse. And equally vain is the expla- nation, that ' the night hours are q^uiet, and you are sure of having, no interruption.'' For this student was sure of being quite free from interruption from five o'clock till chapel-time at eight. And the streets were much Tnore still then than at midnight. And again : any explanation connected with day- light breaks down equally. For, as far as that is concerned, in the winter-time it makes no difl'erence whether you have three 828 Of Regimen of Health. [Essay xxx. hours more candle-light in the earlier part of the night or be- fore sunrise. There is a something that remains to be explained, and it is better to confess ignorance than to offer an explanation that explains nothing. One other circumstance connected with hours has not been hitherto accounted for — namely, the sudden cold which comes on just at the first jpeep of dawn. Some say the earth is gra- dually cooling after the sun has set, and consequently the cold must have reached its height just before the return of the sun. This theory sounds plausible to those who have had little or no personal experience of daybreak ; but it does not agree with the fact. The cold does not gradually increase during the night ; but the temperature grows alternately warmer and colder, according as the sky is clouded or clear. And all wlio have been accustomed to night-travelling must have often ex- perienced many such alternations in a single night. And they also find that the cold at day-break comes on very suddenly : so much so, that in spring and autumn it often happens that it catches the earth-worms, w^hich on mild nights lie out of their holes : and you may often see a whole grass-plat strewed with their frozen bodies in a frosty morning. If the cold had not come on liery suddenly, they would have had time to withdraw into their holes. And any one who is accustomed to go out before daylight will often, in the winter, find the roads full of liquid mud half- an-hour before dawn, and by sunrise as hard as a rock. Then those who had been in bed will often observe that ' it was a hard frost last night,' when in truth there had been no frost at all till day-break. Who can explain all these phenomena ? The subject is so curious, that the digression into which it has led, will, I trust, be pardoned, ' As for the passions and studies of the mind^ avoid . . . .' Of persons who have led a temperate life, those will have the best chance of longevity who have done hardly anything else I)ut live ; — what may be called the neuter verls — not active or passive, but only leing : who have had little to do, little to Essay xxx.] Annotations. 329 suffer ; but have led a life of quiet retirement, without exertion of body or mind, — avoiding all troublesome enterprise, and seeking only a comfortable obscurity. Such men, if of a pretty strong constitution, and if they escape any remarkable cala- mities, are likely to live long. But much affliction, or much exertion, and, still more, both combined, will be sure to tell upon the constitution — if not at once, yet at least as years advance. One who is of the character of an active or passive verb, or, still more, both combined, though he may be said to have lived long in everything but years, will rarely reach the age of the neuters. ESSAY XXXI. OF SUSPICION. SUSPICIONS amongst thoiiglits are like bats amongst birds, — they ever fly by twilight ; certainly they are to be repressed, or, at the least, well guarded, for they cloud the mind, they lose friends, and they check with' business, whereby business cannot go on currently'^ and constantly ; they dispose kings to tyranny, husbands to jealousy, wise men to irresolution and melancholy ; they are defects, not in the heart, but in the brain, for they take place in the stoutest natures, as in the example of Henry VII. of England. There was not a more suspicious man nor a more stout ; and in such a composition^ they do small hurt, for commonly they are not admitted but with examination whether they be likely or no ; but in fearful natures they gain ground too fast. There is nothing makes a man suspect much, more than to know little ; and, therefore, men should remedy suspicion by procuring to know more, and not to keep their suspicions in smother.* What would men have? — do they think those they employ and deal with are saints ? do they not think they will have their own ends, and be truer to themselves than to them ? therefore there is no better way to moderate suspicions, than to account upon such suspicions as true, and yet to bridle them as false ; for so far a man ought to make use of suspicions as to provide, as if that should be true that he suspects, yet it may do him no hurt. Suspicions that the mind of itself gathers, are but buzzes ; but suspicions that are artificially nourished, and put into men's heads by the tales and whisperings of others, have stings. Certainly, the best mean^ to clear the way in this same wood of suspicion, is frankly to communicate them with" the party that ' Check with. Interfere with. See page 101. ^ Currently. With continued progression. 'Time, as it currently goes on, establishes a custom.' — Hayward. ' Composition. Temperament 'A very proud or a very suspicious temper, falseness, or sensuality .... these are the ingredients in the composition of that man whom we call a scorner.' — Atterbnry. * Smother. A state of being stifled. See page 284. ^ Mean. Means. See page 201. ® Communicate with. Impart to. See page 283. Essay xxxi.] Annotations. 881 he suspects : for thereby he shall be sure to know more of the truth of them than he did before, and withal shall make that party more circumspect, not to give further cause of suspicion ; but this would* not be done to men of base natures, for they, if they iind themselves once suspected, will never be true. Tlie Italian says, ' Sospetto licencia fede ;'^ as if suspicion did give a passport to faith ; but it ought rather to kindle it to discharge itself. ANTITHETA ON SUSPICION. Pro. Contra. * * * * ' Suspicio fidem absolvit. 'Merito ejus fides suspeeta est, quam 'He who is suspected is not on his Buspicio labefacit. honour.' ' TJie fidelity which suspicion over- throws deserves to be suspected.' ANNOTATIONS. ' Suspicions amongst tlioughts are like hats amongst hirds, they ever fig hy twilight. "^ As there are dim-sighted persons, who live in a sort of per- petual twilight, so there are some who, having neither much clearness of head, nor a very elevated tone of morality, are perpetually haunted by suspicions of everybody and everything. Such a man attributes — judging in great measure from himself — interested and selfish motives to every one. Accordingly, having no great confidence in his own jDenetration, he gives no one credit for an open and straightforward character, and will always suspect some underhand dealings in every one, even when he is unable to perceive any motive for such conduct, and when the character of the party affords no ground for suspi- cion (' Ill-doers are ill-deemers').^ One, on the contrary, who has a fair share of intelligence, and is himself thoroughly up- * Would. Should. ' As for percolation, which belongeth to separation, trial would be made by clarifying, by a clarion of milk put into warm beer.' — Bacon's Nat. History. * Suspicion releases faith. ^ See Proverbs for Copy-lines. 832 Of Suspicion. [Essay xxxi. right, will be comparatively exempt from this torment. He knows, from consciousness, that there is one honest man in the world ; and he will consider it very improbable that there should be hut one. He will therefore look carefully to the general character and conduct of those he has to deal with ; suspecting those — and those only — who have given some indi- cations of a want of openness and sincerity, trusting those who have given proof of an opposite character, and keeping his judgment suspended as to those of whom he has not sufficient knowledge. Such a man has (as was observed in the note on the Essay on ' Cunning') a better knowledge of human nature than another just equal to him in experience and sagacit}^, whose tone of morality is low. For he knows that there are knaves in the world ; and he knows also that there are honest men ; while the other can hardly be brought to believe in the existence of thorough-going honesty. And the frank and simple-hearted will deal better, on the whole, than the suspicious, even with those who are not of the very highest moral character. For these, if they find that they have credit for speaking truth, when there is no good ground for suspecting the contrary, and that insidious designs are not imputed to them without reason, will feel that they have a character to keep up or to lose : and will be, as it were, put upon their honour. But these same persons, perhaps, if they find themselves always suspected, will feel like the foxes in one of Gay's fables, who, finding that they had an incurably bad name for stealing poultry, thought that they might as well go on with the practice, which would, at any rate, be imputed to them. A dean of a college, at one of our universities, told an under- graduate, who was startled and shocked at finding his word doubted, that he could not trust the young men for speaking truth, for that they regarded a lie to the dean as no lie. And, pro- bably, this was really the case with the majority of them. For when they found that a man's word was not believed by him, they had no scruple about saying to him what was untrue ; on the ground that where no confidence was reposed, none could be violated. And these same men, when the office of dean was held by another Fellow, of opposite character, who put them on Essay xxxi.] Annotations. 338 their honour, never thought (except a very few utterly worthless ones) of telling a falsehood to hhn. A person who once held offices of high importance, and of vast difficulty and delicacy, was enabled to say, after more than thirty years' experience, that though he had been obliged to employ many persons in confidential services, and to im- part to them some most momentous secrets, he had never once had his confidence betrayed, No one of them ever let out an important secret confided to him, or in any way betrayed the trust reposed in him. Of course, this person did not trust indiscriminately ; nor did he trust all to an equal extent. And he occasionally found men turn out worse than he had hoped : and often had plots and cabals formed against him, and had lies told to him. But he never was, jDroperly speaking, he- trayed. He always went on the principle of believing that some men are thoroughly honest, and some utterly dishonest, and some intermediate ; and thoroughly trusting, or thoroughly distrusting, where he saw good reasons for doing so ; and sus- pending his judgment respecting the rest : not putting himself in their power — ^yet not making them objects of suspicion with- out cause, — but letting them see that he hoped well of them, and considered the presumption to be on the side of innocence till guilt is proved. A man of an opposite character, who was long in a very high and important position, afforded matter for doubt and discussion among those who knew him, as to the opinion he entertained of mankind. Some thought that he had a very good, and some a very mean, estimate of men in general. And each were, in a certain sense, right. He seems to have regarded all men as . being what a person of truly elevated moral character would have called base and contemptible ; but he did not feel any such disapprobation or contempt for them, because he had no notion of anything better. He was a very good-humoured man, and far from a misanthrope ; and he could no more be said to dislike or despise men for being nothing superior to what he thought them to be, than we should be said to despise horses or dogs for being no more than brutes. He may be said, therefore, to have thought very favourably of mankind, as think- ing most men to be as virtuous as any man need be, or could be — and as doing nothing that he, or any one, need be ashamed 834 Of Suspicion. [Essay xxxi. of. And again, he may be said to have thought very uninYOMY- ably of mankind, inasmuch as he had no notion at all of a character of exalted virtue, and regarded any indication of pure and high principle as affectation and humbug, and always sus- pected every one of acting for such ends, and employing such means, as a really high-minded man would reject with disdain. Yet he was a very intelligent and acute man as far as regards the lower parts of human nature. His constant suspicion of inferior motives and underhand proceeding arose from the inordl twilight of his mind. In reference to such suspicions as relate rather to things than persons — the doubts which sometimes flutter about in the occa- sional twilight of the mind respecting the evidence for important and well-established conclusions, I will take the liberty of ex- tracting some admirable passages from the Edinhurgh Review for January, 1847, on ' The Genius of Pascal' : — ' Neither has the understanding the absolute dominion in the formation of our judgments, nor does she occupy an 'unshaken throne.' A seditious rabble of doubts, from time to time, rise to dispute her empire. Even where the mind, in its habitual states, is unconscious of any remaining doubt, — where it reposes in a vast preponderance of evidence in favour of this or that con- clusion, — there may yet be, from one or other of the disturbing causes adverted to, a momentary eclipse of that light in which the soul seemed to dwell; — a momentary vibration of that judg- ment wdiich we so often flattered ourselves w^as poised for ever. Yet this no more argues the want of habitual faith than the variations of the compass argue the severance of the connection between the magnet and the pole ; or, than the oscilla- tions of the ' rocking stone' argue that the solid mass can be heaved from its bed. A child may shake, but a giant cannot overturn it. ' And, as a matter of fact^ there are, we apprehend, very few who have not been conscious of sudden and almost unaccountable disturbances of the intellectual atmosphere, unaccountable even after the equilibrium has been restored, and the air has again become serene and tranquil. In these momentary fluctuations, whether arising from moral or physical causes, or from causes of both kinds — from nervous depression, or a fit of melancholy, or Essay xxxi.] Annotations. 335 an attack of pain, or harassing anxieties, or the loss of friends, or their misfortunes and calamities, or signal triumphs of base- ness, or signal discomfitures of virtue, or, above all, from con- scious neglect of duty — a man shall sometimes feel as if he had lost sight even of those primal truths on which he has been accustomed to gaze as on the stars of the firmament — bright, serene, and unchangeable ; even such truths as the existence of God, his paternal government of the world, and the divine origin of Christianity. 'In these moods, objections which he thought had long since been dead and buried, start again into sudden existence. They do more, like the escaped genius of the Arabian Nights, who rises from the little bottle in which he had been imprisoned, in the shape of a thin smoke, which finally assumes gigantic oui^ lines, and towers to the skies, these flimsy objections dilate into monstrous dimensions, and fill tlie whole sphere of mental vision. The arguments by which we have been accustomed to combat them seem to have vanished, or, if they appear at all, look diminished in force and vividness. If we may pursue the allu- sion we have just made, we even wonder how such mighty forms should ever have been compressed into so narrow a space. Bunyan tells us, that when his pilgrims, under the perturbation produced by previous terrible visions, turned the perspective glass towards the Celestial City from the Summits of the Delectable Moun- tains, their hands shook so that they could not steadily look through the instrument ; yet they thought they saw something like the gate, and also ' some of the glory of the place.' It is even so with many of the moods in which other ' pilgrims' attempt to gaze in the same direction ; a deep haze seems to have settled over the golden pinnacles and the ' gates of pearl :' they, for a moment, doubt whether what others declare they have seen, and what they flatter themselves they have seen them- selves, be anything else than a gorgeous vision in the clouds ; and ' faith' is no longer ' the substance of things hoped for,' and the evidence of ' things not seen,' ' And as there are probably few who have profoundly investi- gated the evidences of truth, who have not felt themselves for a moment at least, and sometimes for a yet longer space, as if on the verge of universal scepticism, and about to be driven forth, without star or compass, on a boundless ocean of doubt 336 Of Suspicion. [Essay xxxi. and perplexity, so these states of feeling are peculiarly apt to infest the highest order of minds. For if, on the one hand, \ these can best discern and estimate the evidence which proves , any truth, they, on the other, can see most clearly and feel ' most strongly the nature and extent of the objections which oppose it ; while they are, at the same time, just as liable as the vulgar to the disturbing influences already adverted to. This liability is of course doubled when its subject, as in the case of Pascal, labours under the disadvantage of a gloomy temperament. ' A circumstance which in these conflicts of mind often gives sceptical objections an undue advantage is, that the great truths which it is more especially apt to assail are generally the result of an accumulation of proof by induction, or are even dependent on quite separate trains of argument. Tlie mind, therefore, cannot comprehend them at a glance, and feel at once their integrated force, but must examine them in detail by successive acts of mind, — just as we take tlie measurement of magnitudes too vast to be seen at once in successive small portions. The existence of God, the moi'al government of the world, the divine origin of Christianity, are all truths of this stamp. Pascal, in one of his Pensees, refers to this infirmity of the logical faculties. He justly observes — 'To have a series J / of proofs incessantly before the mind is beyond our power.' ] D'en avoir toujours les preuves presentes, c'est trop d'afiaire. ' From the inability of the mind to retain in perpetuity, or to comprehend at a glance a long chain of evidence, or the total efiect of various lines of argument, Pascal truly observes that it is not sufiicient for the security of our convictions, and their due influence over our belief and practice, that we have proved them, once for all, by a process of reasoning : — they must be, if possible, tinctured and coloured by the imagination, informed and animated by feeling, and rendered vigorous and practical by habit. His words are w^ell worth wa-iting : — ' Reason acts slowly, and with so many views upon so many principles which it is necessary should be always present, that it is perpetually dropping asleep, and is lost, for want of having all its principles present to it. The afiections do not act thus ; they act instantaneously, and are always ready for action. It is necessary, therefore, to imbue our faith with feeling ; other- wise it will be always vacillating.' Esscay xxxi,] Annotations. 337 ' It will not, of course, be imagined that, in the observations we have now made, we are disposed to be the apologists of scepticism ; or even, so far as it is yielded to, of that transient doubt to which we affirm even the most powerful minds are not only liable, but liable in defiance of what are ordinarily their strong convictions. So far as such states of mind are involun- tary (and for an instant they oft-en are, till, in fact, the mind collects itself, and repels them), they are of course the object, not of blame, but of pity. So far as they are dependent upon fluctuations of feeling, or upon physical causes which we can at all modify or control, it is our duty to summon the mind to resist the assault, and reflect on the nature of that evidence which has so often appeared to us little less than demonstra- tive. ' We are not, then, the apologists of scepticism, or anything approaching it ; we are merely stating a psychological fact, for the proof of which we appeal to the recorded confessions of many great minds, and to the experience of those who have re- flected deeply enough on any large and difficult subject to know what can be said for or against it. ' The asserted fact is, that habitual belief of the sincerest and strongest character is sometimes checkered with transient fits of doubt and misgiving, and that even when there is no actual disbelief — no, not for a moment ; the mind may, in some of its moods, form a very diminished estimate of the evidence on which belief is founded, and grievously understate it accord- ingly. "We believe that both these states of mind were occa- sionall}^ experienced by Pascal — the latter, however, much more frequently than the former ; and hence, as we apprehend, are we to account for those passages in which he speaks of the evi- dence for the existence of a God, or for the truth of Christianity, as less conclusive than he ordinarily believed, or than he has at other times declared them. ' At such times, the clouds may be supposed to have hung low upon this lofty mind. 'So little inconsistent with a habit of intelligent faith are such transient invasions of doubt, or such diminished percep- tions of the evidence of truth, that it may even be said that it is only those who have in some measure experienced them, who can be said, in the highest sense, to believe at all. He wlio 22 338 • Of Suspicion. [Essay xxxi. has never had a doubt, who believes what he believes for reasons which he thinks as irrefragable (if that be possible) as those of a mathematical demonstration, ought not to be said so much to helieve as to know i his belief is to him knowledge, and his mind stands in the same relation to it, however erro- neous and absurd that belief may be. It is rather he who believes — not indeed without the exercise of his reason, but without the full satisfaction of his reason — with a knowledge and ap- preciation of formidable objections — it is this man who may most truly be said intelligently to believe." (Pages 213-217.) ' Wise men assuredly consider it as a most important element in the education of their own children, not indeed that they should be taught to believe what they are told without any reason (and if they have been properly trained, a just confidence in the assurances of their superiors in knowledge will on many subjects be reason sufficient), yet, upon evidence far less than demonstration ; indeed, upon evidence far less than they will be able to appreciate, when the lapse of a few brief years has transformed them from children into men. We certainly expect that they will believe many things as facts which as yet they cannot fully comprehend — nay, which they tell us are, in appear- ance, paradoxical ; and to rest satisfied with the assurance, that it is vain to attempt to explain the evidence until they get older and wiser. We are accustomed even to augur the worst results as to the future course and conduct of a youth who has not learned to exercise thus much of practical faith, and who flip- 1 The same thought is thus expressed in a short poem by Bp. Hinds : — 'And the Apostles said unto the Lord, Increase our faith.' — iw^exvii. 5. ' "Wliat ! gazing on your Saviour's face, And listening to his word, Dared you to ask for further grace, To credit all you heard? ' Yet so it is ; belief springs still In soils that nurture doubt ; And we must go to Ilim who will The baneful weed cast out. 'Did never thorns thy path beset? Beware — ^be not deceived ; He who has never doubted yet, Has never yet believed.' Essay xxxi.] Annotations. 331 [ pantlj, on the score of his not being able to compreliend them, rejects truths of whicli he yet has greater evidence, thougli not direct evidence, of their being truths, than he has f the con- trary. Now, 'if we have had earthly fathers, and have given them reverence,' after this fashion, and when we have become men have applauded our submission as appropriate to our con- dition of dependence, 'shall we not much rather be subject to the Father of Spirits, and live?' If, then, the present be a Bcene of moral education and discipline, it seems fit in itself that the evidence of the truths we believe should be checkered with difhculties and liable to objections, not strong enough to force assent, nor so obscure as to elude sincere investigation, ' God, according to the memorable aphorism of Pascal already cited, has afforded sufficient light to those whose object is to see, and left sufficient obscurity to perplex those who have no such wish. All that seems necessary or reasonable to expect, is, that as we are certainly not called npon to believe anything witJwut reason, nor without a jprejjonderance of reason, so the evidence shall be such as our faculties are capable of dealing with; and that the objections shall be only such as equally baffle us upon any other hypothesis, or are insoluble only because they transcend altogether the limits of the human understand- ing: wliich last circumstance can be no valid reason, apart from other grounds, either for accepting or rejecting a given dogma. ' Now, we contend, that it is in this equitable way that God has dealt with us as moral agents, in relation to all the great truths whicli lie at the basis of religion and morals ; and, we may add, in relation to the divine origin of Christianity. The evidence is all of such a nature as we are accustomed every day to deal with and to act npon ; while the objections are either such as reappear in every other theory, or tnrn on difficulties absolutely beyond the limits of the human faculties.' (Pages 21Y-218.) 'It is much the same with the evidences of Christianity. Whether a certain amount and complexity of testimony are likely to be false; whether it is likely that not one, but a number of men, would endure ignominy, persecution, and the last extremities of torture, in support of an unprofitable lie; 33 «340 Of Susj>icion. [Essay xxxi. y whether such an original fiction as Christianity — if it be fiction — J is likely to have been the production of Galilean peasants ; ^ whether anything so sublime was to be expected from fools, oi anything so holy from knaves ; whether illiterate fraud was likely to be equal to such a wonderful fabrication; wdiether infinite artifice may be expected from ignorance, or a perfectly natural and successful assumption of truth from impostm-e : — these, and a multitude of the like questions, are precisely of the same na- ture, however they may be decided, w4th those with which the historian and the advocate, judges and courts of law, are every day required to deal. On the other hand, whether miracles have ever been, or are ever likely to be, admitted in the administra- tion of the universe, is a question on which it would demand a far more comprehensive knowledge of that administration than we can possibly possess, to justify an d jpriori decision. That they are possible, is all that is required ; and that, no consistent theist can deny. Other difiiculties of Christianity, as Bishop Butler has so clearly shown, bafile us on every other hypothesis ; they meet us as much in the ' constitution of nature,' as in the pages of i-evelation ; and cannot consistently be pleaded against Christianity without being equally fatal to theism. ' There are two things, we will venture to say, at which the philosophers of some future age will stand equally astonished ; the one is, that any man should have been called upon to believe any mystery, whether of philosophy or religion, without a pre- ponderance of evidence of a nature which he can grasp, or on the mere ipse dixit of a fallible creature like himself ; the other. that where there is such evidence, man should reject a mystery, merely because it is one. ' This last, perhaps, will be regarded as the more astonishing of the two. That Man — who lives in a dwelling of clay, and looks out upon the illimitable universe through such tiny windows — who stands, as Pascal sublimely says, between 'two infinitudes' — who is absolutely surrounded by mysteries, which he over- looks, only because he is so familiar with them, — should doubt a proposition (otherwise well sustained) from its intrinsic difii- culty, does not seem very reasonable. But when we further reflect that that very mind which erects itself into a standard of all things, is, of all things, the most ignorant of that wdiich it ought to know best — itself, and finds there the most inscrutable Essay xxxi.] Annotations. .H41 of all mysteries, — when we reflect that when asked to declare what itself is, it is obliged to confess that it knows nothing about the matter — nothing either of its own essence or its mode of operation, — that it is sometimes inclined to think itself material, and sometimes immaterial — that it cannot quite come to a con- clusion whether the body really exists, or is a phantom, or in what way (if the body really exists) the intimate union between the two is maintained, — when we see it perplexed beyond expres- sion, even to conceive how these phenomena can be reconciled — proclaiming it to be an almost equal contradiction to suppose that matter can think, or the soul be material, or a connection maintained between two totally difierent substances, and yet admitting that one of these must be true, though it cannot satis- factorily determine which, — when we reflect on all this, surely we cannot but feel that the spectacle of so ignorant a Being refusing to believe a proposition, merely heoause it is above its comprehension, is, of all paradoxes, the most paradoxical, and of all absm-dities, the most ludicrous.' (Pages 219, 220.) ' There is nothing makes a man susjpect much,, more than to know little / and^i therefore,, men should remedy susjnoion hy irro- curing to know more.'' This is equally true of the suspicions that have reference to things as of persons. I extract a passage bearing upon this point, from the Cautions for the Times : — ' IMultitudes are haunted by the spectres, as it were, of vague surmises and indefinite suspicions, which continue thus to haunt them, just because they are vague and indefinite, — because the mind has never ventured to look them boldly in the face, and put them into a shape in which reason can examine them. ' Now, would it not be an act of great charity towards such persons to persuade them to cast away their unreasonable timidity, and scrutinize such objections, instead of trying to banish them by force ? For tliough, no doubt, some difficulties and objections will always remain tliat cannot be directly cleared up or answered, yet the vastly greatest number of seeming objections and difliculties can be satisfactorily removed by care- ful examination and increased knowledge; and the experience of this will lead us to be confident that, if we would propor- 342 Of Su8j)icion. [Essay xxxi. tionatelj enlarge our facilities and acquirements (which is -what we may hope for in a better world), the rest would vanish also. And, in the meanwhile, it is of great importance to know ex- actly what they are, lest our fancies should unduly magnify their number and weight ; and also in order to make us see that they are as nothing in comparison of the still greater difficulties on the opposite side, — namely, the objections which we should have to encounter, if we 7'ejected Christianity, ' Well, but,' it is said, ' though that course may be the best for well-read and skilful Divines, it is better not to notice objec- tions generally^ for fear of alarming and unsettling the minds of plain unlearned people, who had probably never heard of any- thing of the kind. Let them continue to read their Bible with- out being disturbed by any doubts or suspicions that might make them uneasy.' ' I^ow, if in some sea-chart for the use of mariners, the various rocks and shoals which a vessel has to pass in a certain voyage, were to be wholly omitted, and no notice taken of them, no doubt many persons might happen to make the voyage safely, and with a comfortable feeling of security, from not knowing at all of the existence of any such dangers. But suppose some one did strike on one of these rocks, from not knowing — though the makers of the chart did — of its existence, and consequently perished in a shipwreck which he might luive been taught to avoid, — on whose head would his blood lie ? ' And again, if several voyagers came to suspect, from vague rumours, that rocks and shoals (perhaps more formidable than i the real ones) did lie in their course, without any correct know- \ ledge where they lay, or how to keep clear of them, then, so far from enjoying freedom from apprehension, they would be ex- posed to increased alarm — and much of it needless alarm, — without being, after all, preserved from danger. ' And so it is in the present case. Yague hints that learned men have objected to such and such things, and have questioned this or that, often act like an inward slow-corroding canker in the minds of some who have never read or heard anything dis- tinct on the subject ; and who, for that very reason, are apt to imagine these objections, &c., to be much more formidable than they really are. For there are people of perverse mind, who, really possessing both learning and ingenuity, will employ these Essay xxxi.] Annotations. 8-i3 to dress up in a plausible form sometliing which is, in truth, per- fectly silly : and the degree to which this is sometimes done, is what no one can easily conceive without actual experience and examination. 'It is, therefore, often useful, in dealing even with the un- learned, to take notice of groundless and fanciful theories and interpretations, contained in books which probably most of them will never see, and which some of them perhaps will never even hear of; because many persons are a good deal influenced by reports, and obscure rumours, of the opinions of some supposed learned man, without knowing distinctly what they are ; and are likely to be made uneasy and distrustful by being assured that this or that has been disputed, and so and so maintained, by some person of superior knowledge and talents, who has pro- ceeded on ' rational' grounds ; when, perhaps, they, themselves are qualified by their own plain sense to perceive how ^'/'-rational these fanciful notions are, and to form a right judgment on the matters in question. ' Suppose you were startled in a dark night by something that looked like a spectre in a winding-sheet, — would not he who should bring a lantern, and show you that it was nothing but a white cloth hanging on a bush, give you far better encourage- ment than he who merely exhorted you to ' look another waj^, keep up yom- heart, whistle, and pass on V ' No avowedly anti-christian advocate is half so dangerous as those professed believers who deprecate and deride all study of evidence — all endeavour to ' prove all things, and hold fast that which is good,' and to be always 'ready to give a reason of the hope lluit is in us." ' See Elements of Logic, Appendix iii. ESSAY XXXII. OF DISCOURSE. SOME in their discourse desire rather commendation of wit, in being able to hold all arguments, than of judgment, in discerning what is true ; as if it w^ere a praise to know what might be said, and not what should be thought. Some have certain connnonplaces and themes, wherein they are good, and want variety; which kind of poverty is for the most part tedious, and, when it is once perceived, ridiculous. The honourablest part of the talk is to give the occasion ; and again to moderate and pass to somewhat else, for then a man leads the dance. It is good in discourse, and speech of conversation, to vary and intermingle speech of the present occasion with arguments, tales with reasons, asking of questions with telling of opinions, and jest with earnest; for it is a dull thing to tire, and as we say now, to jade' anything too far. As for jest, there be certain things which ought to be privileged from it — namely, religion, matters of state, great persons, any man's present business of importance, and any case that deserveth j^ity ; yet there be some that think their wits have been asleep, except, they dart out somewhat that is piquant, and to the quick — that is a vein which would be bridled : — 'Parce puer stimuli?, et fortius utere loris."^ And, generally, men ouglit to find the difference between salt- ness and bitterness. Certainly, he that hath a satirical vein, as he maketh others afraid of his wit, so he had need be afraid of others' memory. He that questioneth much shall learn much, and content much, but especially if he apply his questions to the skill of the persons whom he asketli, for he shall give them occasion to please themselves in speaking, and himself shall continually gather knowledge ; but let his questions not be troublesome, for that is fit for a poser ;^ and let him be sure * Jade, To over-ride or drive. '1 do not now fool myself to let imagination ^'a^Ze me.' — Sfiakespere. ' 'Boy, spare the spur, and more tightly hold the reins.' — Ovid, JM. ii. 12'7. * Poser. Examiner: (From pose, to interrogate closely.) ' She posed him, and sifted him to try whether he were the very Duke of York or not.' — Bacon's Henry VII. Es^aj xxxii.] Of Discourse. 345 to leave otlier men tlieir tiu'ns to speak — nay, if there l)e any that would reign and take up all the time, let him find means to take them off, and bring others on, as musicians use to do with those that dance too long galliards.' If you dissemble sometimes your knowledge of that" you are thouglit to know, you shall be thought, another time, to know that you know not. Speech of a man's self ouglit to be seldom, and well chosen. I knew one was wont to say in scorn, ' He must needs be a wise man, he speaks so much of himself, — and there is but one case wherein a man may commend himself with a good grace, and that is in commending virtue in another, especially if it be such a virtue whereunto himself pretendeth.^ Speech of touch* towards others should be sparingly used ; for discourse ought to be as a field, without coming home to any man. I knew two noblemen, of the west part of England, whereof the one was given to scoff, but kept ever royal cheer in his house ; the other would ask of those that had been at the other's table, ' Tell truly, was there never a flout^ or dry blow given V To which the guest would answer, 'Such and such a thing passed.' The lord would say, ' I thought he would mar a good dinner.' Discretion of speech is more than eloquence ; and to speak agreeablyUo him with whom we deal, is more than to speak in good words or in good order, A good continued speech, without a good speech of interlocution, shows slowness ; and a good reply, or second speech, without a good settled S2)eech, showeth shallowness and weakness. As we see in beasts, that those that are weakest in the course, are yet nimblest in the ' Galliard. A sprightly dance. ' Gay galliarda hei-e my love shall dance, Whilst I my foes goe fighte.' — Fair Rosamond. 'What is thy excellence in a galliard. Knight?' — Shakespere. ' Tliat. What; that ivhich. See page 72. ^ Pretend to. Lay claim to. ' Those countries that pretend to freedom.' — Sivift. * Touch. Partictdar application. ' Dr. Parker, in his sermon before them, touched them for their being so near that they went near to touch hhu for his life. — Hayivard. * Flout. Jeer ; taunt ; gibe. 'These doors are barred against a bitter font; Snarl if you please ; but you shall snarl without.' — Dryden. ' Full of comparisons and wounding Jlouts.' — Shakespere. ° Agreeably. Iti a manner suited. 3-i6 Of Discourse. [Essaj xxxii. turn ; as it is betwixt the greylioiind and tlie hare. To use too many circumstances' ere^ one come to the matter, is weari- some ; to use none at all, is blunt. ANNOTATIONS. Among the many just and admirable remarks in this essay on ' Discourse,' Bacon does not notice the distinction — which is an important one — between those who speak because they wish to say something^ and those who speak because they have some- thitig to say : that is, between those who are aiming at displaying their own knowledge or ability, and those who speak from ful- ness of matter, and are thinking only of the matter, and not of themselves and the opinion that will be formed of them. This latter. Bishop Butler calls (in reference to writings) ' a man's writing with simplicity and in earnest.' It is curious to observe how much more agreeable is even inferior conversation of this latter description, and how it is preferred by many, — they know not why — who are not accustomed to analyse their own feelings, or to inquire why they like or dislike. Something nearly coinciding with the above distinction, is that which some draw between an ' unconscious' and a ' conscious' manner ; only that the latter extends to i)ersons who are not courting applause, but anxiously guarding against censure. By a ' conscious' manner is meant, in short, a continual thought about oneself, and about what the company will think of us. The continual effort and watchful care on the part of the speaker, either to obtain approbation, or at least to avoid dis- approbation, always communicates itself in a certain degree, to the hearers. Some draw a distinction, again, akin to the above, between the desire to please, and the desire to give pleasure ; meaning by the former an anxiety to obtain for yourself the good opinion * Circumstances. Non-exsential particulars ; adjuncts. ■ ' This peroration, with such circwnstance.' — Shakespere. I "^ Ere. Befwe. ' The nobleman said unto liim, Sir, come down ere my child die.' — John iv. 49. Essay xxxii.] Annotations. 34^ of those joii converse with, and by the other, the wish to gratify them. Aristotle, again, draws the distinction between the Eiron and the Bomolochns, — that the former seems to throw out his wit for his own amusement, and the other for that of the company. It is this latter, however, that is really the ' conscious' speaker ; because he is evidently seeking to obtain credit as a wit by his diversion of the company. The word seems nearly to answer to what we call a '■wag.'' The other is letting out his good things merely from his own fulness. When that which has been called ' consciousness' is combined with great timidity, it constitutes what we call ' shyness ;' a thing disagreeable to others, and a most intense torture to the subject of it. Tliere are many (otherwise) sensible people who seek to cure a young person of that very common complaint, by exhorting him not to be shy, — telling him what an awkward appearance it has, — and that it prevents his doing himself justice, &c. All whicli is manifestly pouring oil on the fire to quencli it. For, the very cause of shyness is an over-anxiety as to wluit people are thinking of you ; a morbid attention to your own appearance. The course, therefore, that ought to be pursued is exactly the reverse. The sufterer should be exliorted to think as little as possible about himself, and the opinion formed of him, — to be assured that most of the company do not trouble their heads about liim, — and to harden him against any impertinent criticisms that may be supposed to be going on, — taking care only to do what is right, leaving others to think and say what they will. And the inore intensely occupied any one is with the subject- matter of what he is saying — the business itself that he is engaged in, — the less will his thoughts be turned on himself, and on what others think of him. A. was, as a youth, most distressingly bashful. When he was in Orders, he was staying at a friend's house, where there was also another clergyman, who was to preach, and who remarked to him how nervous he always felt in preaching in a strange church, — asking whether the other did not feel the same. Per- haps he expected to be complimented on his modesty ; but A. replied, ' I never allow myself to feel nervous in preaching ; 348 Of Discowse. [Essay xxxii. I dare not be tliinking of myself, and of the opinion formed of me, when I have such a momentous work in hand, as my Master's cause, and for the salvation of souls.' The other, a little taken by surprise, admitted that this was what a Christian minister ought to be occupied with ; ' but,' said he, ' he may be allowed, surely, to feel doubts as to his own qualification for so high and important an office.' 'True,' replied A., 'but the proper time for such doubts is hfore he takes Orders j after that, he should be thinking only of the work itself, and of striving to hecome more and more qualified for it.' As for the greater degree of nervousness [bashfulness] felt in addressing a large assembly than a few, I beg leave to extract a passage from my Elements of RhetoriG, in which I have endeavoured to account for this remarkable phenomenon, — for surely it must be considered as such, — that sr person who is able with facility to express his sentiments in private to a friend, in such language, and in such a manner, as would be perfectly suitable to a certain audience, yet finds it extremely difficult to address to that audience the very same words, in the same manner, and is, in many instances, either completely struck dumb, or greatly embarrassed when he attempts it, ' Most persons are so familicur with the fact, as hardly to have ever considered that it requires explanation : but attentive con- sideration shows it to be a very curious, as well as important one ; and of which no explanation, as far as I know, has been attempted. It cannot be from any superior deference which the speaker thinks it right to feel for the judgment of the hearers ; tor it will often happen that the single friend, to whom he is able to speak fluently, shall be one whose good opinion he more values, and whose "\visdom he is more disposed to look up to, than that of all the others together. The speaker may even feel that he himself has a decided and acknowledged superiority over every one of the audience ; and that he should not be the least abashed in addressing any two or three of them, separately ; yet, still, all of them, collectively, will often inspire him with a kind of dread. ' Closely allied in its causes with the phenomenon I am con- sidering, is that other cuinous fact, that the very same senti- ments, expressed in the same manner, will often have a far more powerful effect on a large audience than they would have Essay xxxii.] Annotations. 349 on any one or two of these very persons, separately. That is in a great degree true of all men, which was said of the Athenians, that they Avere like sheep, of which a flock is more easily driven than a single one. ' Another remarkable circumstance, connected with tlie fore- going, is the diflerence in respect of the style which is suitable, respectively, in addressing a multitude, and two or three even of the same persons. A much holder, as well as less accurate, kind of language is both allowable and advisable, in speaking to a considerable number ; as Aristotle has remarked,' in speak- ing of the GraphiG and Agonistic styles, — the former, suited to the closet, the latter, to public speaking before a large assem- bly. And he ingeniously compares them to the diiierent styles of painting : the greater the crowd, he says, the more distant is the view ; so that in scene-painting, for instance, coarser and bolder touches are required, and the nice finish, which would delight a close spectator, would be lost. He does not, however, account for the phenomena in question. 'The solution of them will be found by attention to a very curious and complex play of sympathies which takes place in a large assembly ; and (within certain limits), the more, in pro- portion to its numbers. First, it is to be observed that we are disposed to sympathize with any emotion M'liich we believe to exist in the mind of any one present ; and hence, if we are at the same time otherwise disposed to feel that emotion, such dis- position is in consequence heightened. In the next place, we not only ourselves feel this tendency, but we are sensible that others do the same ; and thus, we sympathize not only with the other emotions of the rest, but also with their sympathy towards us. Any emotion, accordingly, which we feel, is still further heightened by the knowledge that there are others present who not only feel the same, but feel it the more strongly in conse- quence of their sympathy with ourselves. Lastly, we are sen- sible that those around us sympathize not only with ourselves, but with each other also ; and as we enter into this heightened feeling of theirs likewise, the stimulus to our own minds is thereby still further increased. The case of the Ludicrous affords the most obvious illustra- ' Rhetoric, Book iii. 350 Of Discourse. [Essay xxxii. tion of tliese princij^les, from the circumstance that the eiFects produced are so open and palpable. If anything of this nature occurs, yon are disposed, by the character of the tiling itself, to laugh ; but much more, if any one else is known to be present whom you think likely to be diverted with it ; even though that other should not know of your presence ; but much more still, if he does know it ; because you are then aware that sympathy with your emotion heightens his : and most of all will the dis- position to laugh be increased, if many are present ; because each is then aware that they all sympathize with each other, as well as with himself. It is hardly necessary to mention the exact correspondence of the fact with the above explanation. So important, in this case, is the operation of the causes here noticed, that hardly any one ever laughs when he is quite alone ; or if he does, he will find on consideration, that it is from a con- ception of the presence of some companion whom he thinks likely to have been amused, had he been present, and to whom he thinks of describing, or repeating, what had diverted himself. Indeed, in other cases, as well as the one just instanced, almost every one is aware of the mfectious nature of any emotion, excited in a large assembly. It may be compared to the increase of sound by a number of echoes, or of light, by a number of mirrors ; or to the blaze of a heap of firebrands, each of which would speedily have gone out if kindled sepa- rately, but which, when thrown together, help to kindle each other. ' The application of what has been said to the case before us is sufficiently obvious. In addressing a large assembly, you know that each of them sympathizes both with your own anxiety to acquit yourself well, and also with the same feeling in the minds of the rest. You know also, that every slip you may be guilty of, that may tend to excite ridicule, pity, disgust, &c., makes the stronger impression on each of the hearers, from their mutual sympathy, and their consciousness of it. This augments your anxiety. Next, you know that each hearer, putting himself mentally in the speaker's place,' sympathizes with this aug- ' Hence it is that shy persons are, as is matter of common remark, the more distressed by this infinnity when in company with tliose who are subject to the same. Essay xxxii.] Annotations. 351 mented anxiety ; which is by this thought increased still further. And if you become at all embarrassed, the knowledge that there are so many to sympathize, not only with that embarrassment, but also with each other's feelings on the perception of it, heightens your confusion to the utmost. 'The same causes will account for a skilful orator's being able to rouse so much more easily, and more powerfully, the passions of a multitude: they inflame each other by mulual sympathy, and mutual consciousness of it. And hence it is that a bolder kind of language is suitable to such an audience : a passage which, in the closet, might, just at the first glance, tend to excite awe, compassion, indignation, or any other such emotion, but which would on a moment's cool reflection, apj^ear extravagant, may be very suitable for the Agonistic style ; be- cause, iefore that moment's reflection could take place in each hearer's mind, he would be aware that every one around him sympathized in that first emotion, which would thus beconne so much heightened as to preclude, in a great degree, the ingress of any counteracting sentiment. 'If one could suppose such a case as that of a speaker (liimself aware of the circumstance), addressing a multitude, each of whom believed himself to be the sole hearer, it is pro- bable that little or no embarrassment would be felt, and a much more sober, calm, and finished style of language would be adopted.' There are two kinds of orators, the distinction between whom might be thus illustrated. "When the moon shines brightly we are apt to say, ' How beautiful is this moo7i-light P but in the day-time, ' How beautiful are the trees, the fields, the moun- tains !' — and, in short, all the objects that are illuminated ; we never speak of the sun that makes them so. Just in the same way, the really greatest orator shines like the sun, making you think niuch of the things he is speaking of ; the second- best shines like the moon, making you think much of liiin and his eloquence. 352 Of Discourse. [Essay xxxii. ' To use too many circumsta/nces, ere you come to the matter, is wearisome.'' Bacon miglit have noticed some who never ' come to the matter.' How many a meandering discourse one hears, in which the speaker aims at nothing, and — hits it. ^ If you dissemble sometimes your knowledge of that you are thought to knoio, you shall he thought, another time, to know that you know not.'' This suggestion might have come in among the tricks enu- merated in the essay on ' Cunning.' ESSAY XXXIII. OF PLANTATIONS.' PLANTATIONS are amongst ancient, primitive, and lieroical works. When the world was yonng it begat more chil- dren, bnt now it is old, it begets fewer ; for I may justly account new plantations to be the children of former kingdoms. I like a plantation in a pure soil, that is, where people are not dis- planted" to the end to plant in others ; for else it is rather an extirpation than a plantation. Planting of countries is like planting of woods ; for you must make account to lose almost twenty years' profit, and expect your recompense in the end ; for the principal thing that hath been the destruction of most plantations, hath been the base and hasty drawing of profit in the first years. It is true, speedy profit is not to be neglected, as far as it may stand' with the good of the plantation, but no farther. It is a shameful and unblessed thing to take the scum of people and wicked condemned men, to be the people with whom you plant ; and not only so, but it spoileth the planta- tion ; for they will ever live like rogues, and not fall to work, but be lazy, and do mischief, and spend victuals, and be quickly weary, and then certify over to their country to the discredit of the plantation. The people wherewith you plant ought to be gardeners, ploughmen, labourers, smiths, carpenters, joiners, fishermen, fowlers, with some few apothecaries, surgeons, cooks, and bakers. Li a country of plantation, first look about what kind of victual the country yields of itself to hand ; as ches- nuts, walnuts, pine-apples, olives, dates, plums, cherries, wild honey, and the like, and make use of them. Then consider what victual or esculent things there are, which grow speedily, and within the year ; as parsneps, carrots, turnips, onions, ra- ' Plantations. Colonies. 'Towns here are few, either of the old or new jo/art- tations.' — Heylin. "^ Displant. ' Those French pirates that dhplanted us.' — Beanrnont and Fletcher ' Stand. To be consistent with. ' His faithful people, whatsoever they rightly ask, they shall receive, as for as may stand with the glory of God and their own everlasting good.' — Hooker. 23 354 Of Plantations. [Essay xxxiiL dish, articliokes of Jerusalem,' maize, and the like : for wheat, barley, and oats, they ask too much labour ; but with peas and beans you may begin, both because they ask less labour, and because they serve foi- meat as w^ell as for bread ; and of rice likewise cometh a great increase, and it is a kind of meat. Above all, there ought to be brought store of biscuit, oatmeal, flour, meal,^ and tlie like, in the beginning, till bread may be had. For beasts or birds, take chiefly such as are least subject to diseases, and multiply fastest : as swine, goats, cocks, hens, turkeys, geese, house-doves, and the like. The victual in plan- tations ought to be expended almost as in a besieged town, that is, with certain allowance ; and let the main part of the ground employed to' gardens or corn be to^ a common stock, and to be laid in, and stored up, and then delivered out in proportion ; besides some spots of ground that any particular person will manure for his own private.^ Consider likewise, wdiat commo- dities the soil where the plantation is doth naturally yield, that they may some way help to defray the charge of the plantation ; so it be not, as was said, to the untimely prejudice of the main business, as it hath fared with tobacco in Yirginia. Wood connnonly aboundeth but too much, and therefore tim- ber is flt to be one. If there be iron ore, and streams wdiere- upon to set the mills, iron is a brave^ commodity where wood aboundeth. Making of bay salt, if the climate be proper for it, would be put in experience ;' growing silk, likewise, if any be, is a likely commodity; pitch and tar, where store of firs and pines are, will not fail ; so drugs and sweet woods, where * Artichokes of Jerusalem. A well-known culinary plant, originally of Brazil ; the name Jerusalem being merely a corruption of the Italian Girasole — that ia Sun-flower, or Turu-sole. ' ' Flour' is still used in Suffolk to signify, exclusively, that which is finely sifted ; and ' meal' that which comes from the mill. * To. In. ' Still a greater difficulty upon translators rises from the peculiari- ties every language has to itself — Felton. * To. For. See page 246. 'The proper business of the understanding is not that which men always employ it to.' — Locke. ' Private. Particular une w benefit ; private object. ' Nor must I be unmindful of my private, For which I have called my brother and the tribunes, My kinsfolk, and my clients, to be near me.' — Ben Jonson. ' Brave. Excellent ; fine. ' A brave attendance.' — Shakespere. ' Experience. Experiment ; trial. ' As curious experiences did affirm.' — Ray. Essay xxxiii.] Of Plantations. 355 they are, cannot but yield great profit ; soap ashes likewise, and other things that may be thought of; but moir not too much under ground, for the hope of mines is very uncertain, and useth to make the planters lazy in other things. For govern- ment, let it be in the hands of one, assisted with some counsel, and let them have commission to exercise martial laws, with some limitation. And, above all, let men make that profit of being in the wilderness, as" they have God always, and his service before their eyes. Let not the government of the planta- tion depend upon too many counsellors and undertakers' in the country that planteth, but upon a temperate number ; and let those be rather noblemen and gentlemen, than merchants ; for they look ever to the present gain. Let there be freedoms from custom, till the plantation be of strength, and not only freedom from custom, but freedom to carry their commodities where they may make their best of them, except^ there be some special cause of caution. Cram not in people, by sending too fast, company after company, but rather hearken^ how they waste, and send supplies proportionably ; but so as the number may live well in the plantation, and not by surcharge be in penury. It hath been a great endangering to the health of some planta- tions, that they have built along the sea and rivers, in marish' and unwholesome grounds ; therefore, though you begin there, to avoid carriage and other like discommodities,' yet build still rather upwards from the stream, than along it. It concerneth likewise the health of the plantation that they have good store ' Moil. To toil ; to drudge. ' Now he must tnoil and drudge for one lie loathes.' — Dryden. * As. That. See page 23. ' Undertakers, Managers of affairx. ' Nay, if you be aa xmdertaker, I am for you.' — Shakespere. — (now confined to the managers of funerals.) * Except. Unless. See page 280. * Hearken. Watch ; observe. ' They do me too much injury, Tliat ever said I hearkened for your death.' — Shakespere. I mount the terrass, thence the town survey, And hearken What the fruitful sounds convey.' — Dryden. * Marish. Marshy ; sicampy. ' The fen and quagmire, so marish by kind, are to be drained.' — Tusser. ' Discommodities. Inconveniences. ' "We stand balancing the discommodities of two corrupt disciplines.' — Milton. 35 G Of Plantations. [Essay xxxiii. of salt with them, that thej may use it in their victuals when it shall be necessary. If you j)lant where savages are, do not only entertain them with trifles and gingles, but use them justly and graciously, with sufficient guard, nevertheless : and do not win their favour by helping them to invade their enemies, but for tlieir defence, it is not amiss ; and send oft* of them over to the country that plants, that they may see a better condition than their own, and commend it when they return. When the plantation grows to strength, then it is time to plant with women as well as with men, that the plantation may spread into generations, and not be ever pieced from without. It is the sinfullest thing in the world to forsake or destitute^ a plantation once in forwardness ; for, besides the dishonour, it is the guiltiness of blood of many commisserable^ persons. ANNOTATIONS. ^ It is a shaTneful a/nd unblessed thing to take the scum of people o/nd wicked condemned men^ to l>e the people with whom you plant.'' Yet two-and-a-half centuries after Bacon's time, the English government, in 023position to the remonstrances of the en- lightened and most emphatically experienced philanthropist — Howard, — established its penal colonies in Australia, and thus, in the language of Shakespere, ' began an impudent nation.' It is now above a quarter of a century since I began pointing out to the public the manifold mischiefs of such a system ; and with Bacon and Howard on my side, I persevered in braving all the obloquy and ridicule that were heaped on me. But successive ministries, of the most opposite political parties, i ' Oft. Often (chiefly used in poetry). ' Oft she rejects, but never once offends.' — Pope. * Destitute. To leave destitute. ' Suppose God thus destitute us, yet over- anxiety, or solicitude, or using of unlawful means, can never be able to secure lis.' — Hammond. ^ Commisserable. Worthy of compassion. ' This co»^m^sse>•a6^e person, Edward. — ^Bacon's Henry VII. Essay xxxiii.] Annotations. 30 < agreed in supporting what the most eminent political economist of the present day had described as a ' system begun in defiance of all reason, and persevered in defiance of all experience.' ''And not only so^ hut it sj)Oiletli the plantation.'' Bacon has not pointed out one particular disadvantage of this mode of colonization. The emancipists, as they are called — those who have come out as convicts, — are described, and that by some advocates of the system, as for the most part idle, unthrifty settlers ; and the currency, those born in the colony, are represented as generally pref ending a seafaring life', having the odious associations of crime and slavery connected with agri- cultural pursuits, — a feeling perfectly natural under such cir- cumstances, but the very last one we would wnsh to find in a colony. One of the results — ^not, I apprehend, originally con- templated when penal colonies w^ere established in ]S^ew South Wales by the English government, — is that these ' wicked con- demned men' have planted for themselves several volunteer- colonies ; escaping in small craft either to the South Sea Islands (in many of which, for a good while past, each native chief has for a prime-minister some choice graduate of the university of Newgate), or, more frequently, to some part of the coast of New Holland. Thus the land is certainly planted, but it is planted with the worst of weeds, according to the ingenious ex- periment suggested, in the Tempest, for Prospero's island : — ' Gonzalo. Had I plantation of this isle, my lord .... Antonio. He'd sow it with nettle seed.' This was one of the arguments put forward by me, in the hope of awakening the public mind to the real character and extent of the evil, in a pamphlet in the form of a lettei- addressed to Earl Grey, from which I give some extracts. ' The defenders of the system generally keep out of sight the inconsistency of professing to aim at the mutual benefit of the mother country and the colonies, on a plan which sets the two in direct opposition; and present, separately and alternately, the supposed advantage of 'getting rid' (as it is called) of criminals, and that of encouraging a growing colony, so as to withdraw the attention from the real incompatibility of the two. 358 Of Plantations. [Essay xxxiii. 'In other subjects, as well as in this, I have observed that two distinct objects may, by being dexterously presented, again and again in quick succession, to tlie mind of a cui'sory reader, be so associated together in his thoughts, as to be conceived capable, when in fact they are not, of being actually combined in practice. The fallacious belief thus induced bears a striking resemblance to the optical illusion effected by that ingenious and ]3hilosophical toy called the ' thaumatrope ;' in which two objects painted on opposite sides of a card, — for instance, a man, and a horse,^a bird, and a cage, — are by a quick rotatory motion, made to impress the eye in combination, so as to form one picture, of the man on the horse's back, — the bird in the cage, &c. As soon as the card is allowed to remain at rest, the figures, of course, appear as they really are, separate and on opposite sides. A mental illusion closely analogous to this is produced, when, by a rapid and repeated transition from one subject to another, alternately, the mind is deluded into an idea of the actual combination of things that are really incompatible. The chief part of the defence which various writers have ad- vanced in favour of the system of penal colonies consists, in truth, of a sort of intellectual thaumatrope. The prosperity of the colony, and the repression of crime are, by a sort of rapid whirl, presented to the mind as combined in one picture. A very moderate degree of calm and fixed attention soon shows that the two objects are painted on ojyjjosite sides of the card. ' In aid of this and the other modes of defence resorted to, a topic is introduced from time to time in various forms, which is equally calculated to meet all objections whatever on all sub- jects : — that no human system can be expected to be perfect ; that some partial inconvenience in one part or in another must be looked for ; and that no plan can be so well devised as not to require vigilant and judicious superintendence, to keep it in effectual operation, and to guard against the abuses to which it is liable, &c. &c. ' All this is very true, but does not in reality at all meet the present objections. Though we cannot build a house which shall never need repair, we may avoid such a misconstruction as shall cause it to fall down by its own weight. Though it be impossible to construct a time-piece which shall need no wind- ing up, and which shall go with j)erfect exactitude, we may j Essay xxxiii.] Annotations. 359 giiai'd against the error of making the wheels necessarily obstruct eacli other's motions. And though a plan of penal legislatit.»n, which shall unite all conceivable advantages and be liable to no abuses, be unattainable, it is at least something gained if we do but keep clear of a system which by its very constitution shall have a constant and radically inherent tendency to defeat our ^principal object. ' For, let any one but calmly reflect for a few moments on the position of a governor of one of our penal colonies, who has the problem proposed to him of accomplishing two distinct and in reality inconsistent objects : to legislate and govern in the best manner with a view to — 1st, the prosperity of the colony., and also, 2ndly, the suitable punishment of the convicts. It is well known that slave labour is the least profitable ; and can seldom be made profitable at all, but by the most careful, difficult, troublesome, and odious superintendence. The most obvious w^ay, therefore, of making the labour of the convicts as advantageous as possible to the colony, is to make them as unlike slaves as possible, — to place them under such regulations, and with such masters, as to ensure their obtaining not only ample supplies both of necessaries and comforts, but in all respects favourable and even indulgent treatment ; in short, to put tliem as much as possible in the comfortable situation \chich free lahourers enjoy, w^here labour is so valuable, as from the abun- dance of land, and the scarcity of hands, it must be, in a new settlement. ' And the masters themselves may be expected, for the most part, to perceive that their own interest (which is the only con- sideration they are expected to attend to) lies in the same direction. They will derive most profit from their servants, by keeping them as much as possible in a cheerful and contented state, even at the expense of connivance at many vices, and of 60 much indulgence as it would not, in this country, be worth any master's while to grant, when he might turn away an in- difierent servant and hire another. The master of the convict- servants would indeed be glad, for his own profit, to exact from them the utmost reasonable amount of labour, and to maintain them in a style of frugality equal to, or even beyond that of a o60 Of Plantations. [Essa}' xxxiii. labourer in England : but he will be sure to find that the attemj)t to accomplish this would defeat his own object; and he will be satisfied to realize such profit as is within reach. He will find that a labourer who does much less work than would be requisite, here, to earn the scantiest subsistence, and who yet is incom- parably better fed than the best English labourer, does yet (on account of the great value of labour) bring a considerable profit to his master ; though to employ such a labourer on such terius, would, in England, be a loss instead of a profit. It answers to him, therefore, to acquiesce in anything short of the most gross idleness and extravagance, for the sake of keeping his slave (for after all it is best to call things by their true names) in tolerably good humour, rather than resort to the troublesome expedient of coercion, which might be attended with risk to his person or property from an ill-disposed character, and at any rate would be likely to make such a servant sulky, perverse, and wilfully neglectful. ' To give some idea of the serious loss of time, as well as of the great trouble caused by being far removed from a magistrate alone, I need only state, that when a convict-ser- vant misconducts himself, the settler must either send the vaga- bond to the nearest magistrate, not improbably some thirty or forty miles distant, or he must overlook the offence." ' It may easily be conceived, therefore, what indulgent treat- ment most of the convicts are likely to receive, even from the more respectable class of settlers. As for the large proportion^ who are themselves very little diflerent in character, tastes, and habits, from their convict-servants, they may be expected usually to live (as the travellers w^ho have described the colony assure us they do) on terms of almost perfect equality with them, associating with them as boon-companions. But, to say nothing of these, the more respectable settlers will be led, by a regard for their own interest, to what is called the humane treatment of their servants ; that is, to endeavour to place all those in their employ who are not much worse than such as, in this country, few would think it worth while to employ at all, in a better situation than the most industrious labourers in England. ' Now, it is evident that the very reverse of this procedure is suitable for a house of correction^ — a place of punishment. And it is no less evident that a governor must be led both b}' his ' Excursions in New South Wales, by Lieutenant Breton. Essay xxxiii.] Annotations. . 361 feelings, — by liis regard for his own ease, — and by his wish for l^opidarity with all descriptions of persons around him, as well as by his regard for the prosperity of the colony, to sacrifice to ^Aa^ object the primary and most important one, — of making transportation, properly, a penalty. We can seldom ex])ec1 to find a governor (much less a succession of governors) willing, when the choice is proposed of two objects at variance with each other, to prefer the situation of keeper of a house of correction to that of a governor of a flourishing colony. The utmost we can expect is to find now and then one, crippling the measures of his predecessors and of his successors, by such efibrts to secure both objects as will be most likely to defeat both. But the in- dividual settlers, to whom is intrusted the chief part of the detail of the system, are not (like the governor) even called on by any requisition of duty, to pay any attention to the most important part of that system. They are not even required to think of anything but their own interest. The punishment and the reformation of convicts are only incidental results. It is trusted that the settler's regard for his own interest will make him exact hard labour and good conduct from the servants as- signed to him. But if indulgence is (as we have seen) likely to answer his purpose better than rigid discipline, he cannot even be upbraided with any breach of duty in resorting to it. ' Of the many extraordinaiy features in this most marvellous specimen of legislation, it is one of the most paradoxical, that it entrusts a most imj)ortant public service, in reference to the British nation, to men who are neither selected out of this nation on account of any supposed fitness to discharge it, nor even taught to consider that they have any public duty to perform. Even in the most negligently-governed communities, the keeper of a house of correction is alwa^^s, professedly at least, selected with some view to his integrity, discretion, firmness, and other qualifications ; and however ill the selection may be conducted, he is at least taught to consider himself intrusted, for the pul>lic benefit, with an oflice which it is his duty to discharge on public grounds. However imperfectly all this may be accomplished, few persons would deny that it is, and ought to be, at least, aimed at. But this is not the case in the land of ornithorkynclius 'paradoxus and of other paradoxes. There, each settler is, as far as his own household is concerned, the keeper of a house of 362 Of Plantations. [Essay xxxiii. correction. To him, so far, is intrusted the punishment and the reformation of criminals. But he is not even called upon to look to these objects, except as they may incidentally further his own interest. He is neither expected nor exhorted to regulate his treatment of convicts with a view to the diminu- tion of crime in the British Isles, but to the profits of his farm in Australia. 'It is true, the settler may sometimes be, like other men, actuated by other feelings besides a regard to profit : but these feelings are not likely to be those of public spirit. When the convict does suflPer hard usage, it is not much to be expected tliat this will be inflicted with a view to strike terror into often- ders in Great Brttain, or to e£Pect any other salutary end of punishment. His treatment is likely to depend not so much on the character of the crime for which he was condemned, as on the character of his master. Accordingly, Colonel Arthur (p. 3), in enlarging on the miseries to wdiicli a convict is sub- jected, makes prominent mention of this, that 'he is conveyed to a distant country, in the condition of a sla'De^ and assigned to an unknown master, whose disjyosition, temper, and even caprice., he must consult at every turn, and submit to every moment.' ' Colonel Arthur (p. 23) falls into an inaccuracy of language which tends to keep out of sight a most important practical distinction. He says: 'With regard to the fact that convicts are treated as slaves, any difficulty that can be raised upon it must hold good whenever penitentiary or prison disci] )line is inflicted.' If by a ' slave' be meant any one who is suhjt'cted to the control of another, this is true. But the word is not in general thus applied. It is not usual to speak of children as slaves to their schoolmasters, or to their parents ; or of prisoners being slaves of the jailer ; or soldiers of their officers. By slaves we generally understand, persons whom their master compels to work/br his own benefit. And in this sense Colonel Arthur himself (p. 2) applies the term (I think very properly) to the assigned convict-servants. ' It is observed by Homer, in the person of one of his cha- racters in the Odyssey, that ' a man loses half his virtue the day that he becomes a slave ;' he might have added with truth, that he is likely to lose more than half when he becomes a Essay xxxiii.] Annotations. '6^6 slave-master. And if tlie convict-servants and their masters have any virtue to lose, no system coiikl have been devised more effectual for divesting them of it. Even the regular official jailers, and governors of penitentiaries, are in danger of becom- ing brutalized, unless originally men of hrm good principle. And great wisdom in the contrivance of a penitentiary -system, and care in the conduct of it, are requisite, to prevent the hardening and debasing of the prisoners. But when both the superintendent and the convicts feel that they are held in bon- dage, and kept to work by him, not from any views of piihliG duty^ but avowedly for his individual advantage, nothing can be imagined more demoralizing to both parties. 'Among all the extravagances that are recorded of capricious and half-insane despots in times of ancient barbarism, I do not remember any instance mentioned, of any one of these having thought of so mischievously absurd a project as that of forming a new nation, consisting of criminals and executioners. 'But had such a tyrant existed, as should not only have devised such a plan, but should have insisted on his subjects believing, that a good moral eftect would result from the inti- mate association together, in idleness, of sevei-al hundreds of reprobates, of various degrees of guilt, during a voyage of four or five months, and their subsequent assignment as slaves to various masters, under such a system as that just alluded to, it w^ould have been doubted whether the mischievous insanity of wanton despotisiu could go a step beyond this. Another step however there is ; and this is, the pretence of thus benefitting and civilizing the Aborigines! Surely those who expect the men of our hemisphere to believe all this, must suppose us to entertain the ancient notion of the vulgar, that the Antipodes are people among whom every thing is reversed. The mode of civilization practised, is of a piece with the rest, ' They have, (says one of the writers on the Colony) been ^o