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N V< Ul 
 
 BACON'S ESSAYS 
 
 AND 
 
 WISDOM OF THE A]N^OIEK"TS 
 
 WITH A BIOGRAPHICAL NOTICE BY A. SPIERS 
 
 PREFACE BY B. MONTAGU, AND NOTES 
 
 BY DIFFERENT WRITERS 
 
 BOSTON 
 LITTLE, BROWN, AND COMPACT 
 
 1884 
 
 l^ 
 
V 
 
 Copyright, 18S4, 
 By Little, Beown, and Company. 
 
 ©nt&etsUg IBress: 
 John Wilson and Son, Cambridge, 
 
ADVERTISEMENT. 
 
 In preparing the present volume for the press, use 
 has been freely made of several publications which have 
 recentl}' appeared in England. The Biographical Notice 
 of the author is taken from an edition of the Essaj^s, by 
 A. Spiers, Ph. D. To this has been added the Preface 
 to Pickering's edition of the Essays and Wisdom of the 
 Ancients, by Basil Montagu, Esq. Parker's edition, by 
 Thomas Markb}^ M. A., has furnished the arrangement 
 of the Table prefixed to the Essa3^s, and also "the 
 references to the most important quotations." The 
 Notes, including the translations of the Latin, are 
 chiefly copied from Bohn's edition, prepared by Joseph 
 Devey, M. A. We have given the modern translation 
 of the Wisdom of the Ancients contained in Bohn's 
 edition, in preference to that "done by Sir Arthur 
 Gorges," although the last mentioned has a claim upon 
 regard, as having been made by a contemporary of Lord 
 Bacon, and published in his lifetime. Its language is 
 in the style of English current in the author's age, and 
 for this reason may resemble more nearly what the pliil- 
 osopher himself would have used, had he composed the 
 work in his own tongue instead of Latin. 
 
I 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 Preface by B. Montagu, Esq xi 
 
 Introductory Notice of the Life and Writings of Bacon, by 
 
 A. Spiers, Ph. D 1 
 
 ESSAYS; OR, COUNSELS CIVIL AND MORAL. 
 
 NO. 
 
 
 
 
 
 1. 
 
 Of Truth . . . 
 
 1625; 
 
 
 57 
 
 2. 
 
 Of Death . . . 
 
 1612; 
 
 enlarged 1625 ... . 
 
 62 
 
 3. 
 
 Of Unity in Relig- 
 
 
 Of Religion 1612 ; rewrit- 
 
 
 
 ion 
 
 
 ten 1625 
 
 65 
 
 4. 
 
 Of Revenge . . . 
 
 1625; 
 
 
 73 
 
 5. 
 
 Of Adversity . . 
 
 1625; 
 
 
 75 
 
 6. 
 
 Of Simulation and 
 
 
 
 
 
 Dissimulation 
 
 1625; 
 
 
 78 
 
 7. 
 
 Of Parents and 
 
 
 
 
 
 Children . . . 
 
 1612; 
 
 enlarged 1625 . . . . 
 
 82 
 
 8. 
 
 Of Marriage and 
 
 
 
 
 
 Single Life . . 
 
 1612; 
 
 slightly enlarged 1625 . . 
 
 84 
 
 9. 
 
 Of Envy. . . . 
 
 1625; 
 
 
 
 87 
 
 10. 
 
 Of Love .... 
 
 1612; 
 
 rewritten 1625 . . . . 
 
 95 
 
 IL 
 
 Of Great Place . 
 
 1612 ; 
 
 slightly enlarged 1625 
 
 98 
 
 12. 
 1 ^^• 
 
 Of Boldness . . 
 Of Goodness, and 
 
 1625; 
 
 
 103 
 
 
 
 
 Goodness of Na- 
 
 
 
 
 1 
 
 ture 
 
 1612; 
 
 enlarged 1625 . . . . 
 
 105 
 
 14. 
 
 Of Nobility . . . 
 
 1612; 
 
 rewritten 1625 . . . . 
 
 110 
 
 15. 
 
 Of Seditious and 
 
 
 
 
 
 Troubles . . . 
 
 1625; 
 
 
 113 
 
VI 
 
 16. 
 
 Of Atheism . . . 
 
 17. 
 
 Of Superstition . 
 
 18. 
 
 Of Travel . . . 
 
 19. 
 
 Of Empire . . . 
 
 20. 
 
 Of Counsels . . 
 
 21. 
 
 Of Delays . . . 
 
 22. 
 
 Of Cunning . . . 
 
 23. 
 
 Of Wisdom for a 
 
 
 Man's Self . . 
 
 24. 
 
 Of Innovations 
 
 25. 
 
 Of Dispatch . . 
 
 26. 
 
 Of Seeming Wise , 
 
 27. 
 
 Of Friendship . . 
 
 28. 
 
 Of Expense . . 
 
 29. 
 
 Of the true Great- 
 
 
 ness of Kingdoms 
 
 
 and Estates . . 
 
 30. 
 
 Of Regimen of 
 
 
 Health . . . 
 
 31. 
 
 Of Suspicion . . 
 
 32. 
 
 Of Discourse . . 
 
 33. 
 
 Of Plantations . . 
 
 34. 
 
 Of Riches . . . 
 
 35. 
 
 Of Propliecies . . 
 
 36. 
 
 Of Ambition . . 
 
 37. 
 
 Of Masques and 
 
 
 Triumplis . . . 
 
 38. 
 
 Of Nature in Men 
 
 39. 
 
 Of Custom and Ed- 
 
 
 ucation . . . 
 
 40. 
 
 Of Fortune . . . 
 
 41. 
 
 Of Usury . . . 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 PAGE 
 
 1612 ; slightly enlarged 1625 . 124 
 
 1612; " " " . . 130 
 
 1625; 132 
 
 1612; much enlarged 1625 . . 135 
 
 1612 ; enlarged 1625 .... 143 
 
 1625; 151 
 
 1612 ; rewritten 1625 ... 153 
 
 1612 ; enlarged 1625 .... 159 
 
 1625; 161 
 
 1612; 163 
 
 1612; 166 
 
 1612 ; rewritten 1625 .... 168 
 1597 ; enlarged 1612 ; and again 
 
 1625 179 
 
 1612; enlarged 1625 .... 181 
 
 1597 ; enlarged 1612 ; again 
 
 1625 195 
 
 1625; 197 
 
 1597; slightly enlarged 1612; 
 
 again 1625 .... 199 
 
 1625; 202 
 
 1612; much enlarged 1625 . . 207 
 
 1625; 212 
 
 1612; enlarged 1625 .... 217 
 
 1625; 218 
 
 1612; enlarged 1625 .... 223 
 
 1612; " " . . . . 225 
 
 1612 ; slightly enlarged 1625 . 228 
 
 1625; . . ". 231 
 
CONTENTS. vii 
 
 NO. 
 
 42. Of Youth and Age 1612 ; slightly enlarged 1625 . 237 
 
 43. Of Beauty . . . 1612; " " " • • 240 
 
 44. Of Deformity . . 1612 ; somewhat altered 1625 . 241 
 
 45. Of Building . . 1625; 243 
 
 46. Of Gardens. . . 1625; 249 
 
 47. Of Negotiating . 1597; enlarged 1612; very 
 
 slightly altered 1625 . 259 
 
 48. Of Followers and 
 
 Friends . . . 1597 ; slightly enlarged 1625 . 261 
 
 49. Of Suitors . . . 1597 ; enlarged 1625 . ... 264 
 
 50. Of Studies . . . 1597; '* « . . . . 266 
 
 51. Of Faction . . . 1597; much enlarged 1625 . . 269 
 
 52. Of Ceremonies and 
 
 Respects . . . 1597 ; enlarged 1625 .... 271 
 
 53. Of Praise . . . 1612; " " . . . . 273 
 
 54. Of Vainglory . . 1612; 276 
 
 ^5 5 . Of Honor and Bep- 
 
 utation . . . 1597; omitted 1612; repub- 
 
 Hshed 1625 .... 279 
 
 56. Of Judicature . . 1612; 282 
 
 57. Of Anger . . . 1625; 289 
 
 • 58. Of the Vicissitude 
 
 of Things . . . 1625; 292 
 
 APPENDIX TO ESSAYS. 
 
 1. Fragment of an Essay of Fame 301 
 
 2. Of a King ^^•^ 
 
 3. An Essay on Death 307 
 
 THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS ; A SERIES OF 
 MYTHOLOGICAL FABLES. 
 
 Preface ^1'' 
 
 1. Cassandra, or Divination. Explained of too free and 
 
 unseasonable Advice 323 
 
 2. Typhon, or a Bebel. Explained of Rebellion ... 324 
 
viii CONTENTS. 
 
 NO. PAGE 
 
 3. The Cyclops, or the Ministers of Terror. Explained 
 
 of base Court Officers 327 
 
 4. Narcissus, or Self-Love 329 
 
 5. The River Styx, or Leagues. Explained of Necessity, 
 
 in the Oaths or Solemn Leagues of Princes . . . 331 
 
 6. Pan, or Nature. Explained of Natural Philosophy . 333 
 
 7. Perseus, or War. Explained of the Preparation and 
 
 Conduct necessary to War 343 
 
 8. Endymion, or a Eavorite. Explained of Court Eavor- 
 
 ites 348 
 
 9. The Sister of the Giants, or Eame. Explained of 
 
 Public Detraction 350 
 
 10. Acteon and Pentheus, or a Curious Man. Explained 
 
 of Curiosity, or Prying into the Secrets of Princes 
 
 and Divine Mysteries 351 
 
 11. Orpheus, or Philosophy. Explained of Natural and 
 
 Moral Philosophy 353 
 
 12. Coelum, or Beginnings. Explained of the Creation, 
 
 or Origin of all Things 357 
 
 13. Proteus, or Matter. Explained of Matter and its 
 
 Changes 360 
 
 14. Meranon, or a Youth too forward. Explained of the 
 
 fatal Precipitancy of Youth 363 
 
 15. Tythonus, or Satiety. Explained of Predominant 
 
 Passions 364 
 
 16. Juno's Suitor, or Baseness. Explained of Submission 
 
 and Abjection 365 
 
 17. Cupid, or an Atom. Explained of the Corpuscular 
 
 Philosophy 366 
 
 18. Diomed, or Zeal. Explained of Persecution, or Zeal 
 
 for Religion 371 
 
 19. Daedalus, or Mechanical Skill. Explained of Arts and 
 
 Artists in Kingdoms and States 374 
 
 20. Ericthouius, or Imposture. Explained of the improper 
 
 Use of Eorce in Natural Philosophy 378 
 
CONTENTS. IX 
 
 NO. PAGE 
 
 21. Deucalion, or Restitution. Explained of a useful Hint 
 
 in Natural Philosophy 379 
 
 22. Nemesis, or the Vicissitude of Things. Explained of 
 
 the Reverses of Fortune 380 
 
 23. Achelous, or Battle. Explained of War by Invasion . 383 
 
 24. Dionysus, or Bacchus. Explained of the Passions . 384 
 
 25. Atalanta and Hippomenes, or Gain. Explained of the 
 
 Contest betwixt Art and Nature 389 
 
 26. Prometheus, or the State of Man. Explained of an 
 
 Overruling Providence, and of Human Nature . . 391 
 
 27. Icarus and Scylla and Cliarybdis, or the Middle Way. 
 
 Explained of Mediocrity in Natural and Moral 
 Philosophy 407 
 
 28. Sphinx, or Science. Explained of the Sciences . . 409 
 
 29. Proserpine, or Spirit. Explained of the Spirit in- 
 
 cluded in Natural Bodies 413 
 
 30. Metis, or Counsel. Explained of Princes and their 
 
 Council 419 
 
 31. The Sirens, or Pleasures. Explained of Men's Pas- 
 
 sion for Pleasures 420 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 In the early part of the year 1597, Lord Bacon's first 
 publication appeared. It is a small 12mo. volume, en- 
 titled ''Essayes, Religious Meditations, Places of Per- 
 swasion and Disswasion." It is dedicated 
 
 " To M. Anthony Bacon, his deare Brother. 
 
 " Loniiig and beloned Brother, I doe nowe like some that 
 have an Orcharde ill Neighbored, that gather their Fruit be- 
 fore it is ripe, to preuent stealing. These Fragments of my 
 Conceites were going to print, To labour the stale of them 
 had bin troublesome, and subiect to interpretation; to let them 
 passe had beene to aduenture the wrong they mought receiue 
 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 as they passed long agoe from my 
 Pen. without any further disgrace, then the weaknesse of the 
 Author. And as I did euer hold, there mought be as great 
 a vanitie in retiring and withdrawing mens conceites (except 
 they bee of some nature) from the World, as in obtruding 
 them : So in these particulars I haue played myself the In- 
 quisitor, and find nothing to my vnderstanding in them con- 
 trarie or infectious to the state of Religion, or Manners, but 
 rather (as I suppose) medecinable. Only I disliked now to 
 put them out, because they will be like the late new Halfe- 
 
xii PREFACE. 
 
 pence, which, though tlie Siluer were good, yet the Peeces 
 were small. But since they would not stay with their Mas- 
 ter, but would needes trauaile abroade, I haue preferred them 
 to you that are next my selfe, Dedicating them, such as they 
 are, to our Loue, in the depth whereof (I assure you) I some- 
 times wish your Infirmities translated vppon my selfe, that 
 her Maiestie mought haue the Seruice of so actiue and able 
 a Mind, and I mought be with excuse confined to these Con- 
 templations and Studies for which I am fittest, so commend 
 I you to the Preseruation of the Diuine Maiestie : From my 
 Chamber at Graies Inne, this 30 of Januarie, 1597. Your 
 entire Louing Brother, Fran. Bacon." 
 
 The Essays, which are ten in number, abound with 
 condensed thought and practical wisdom, neatly, pressly, 
 and weightil}' stated, and, like all his early works, are 
 simple, without imager}-. The^' are written in his favor- 
 ite style of aphorisms, although each essa}- is apparently 
 a continued work, and without that love of antithesis 
 and false glitter to which truth and justness of thought 
 are frequentl}' sacrificed b}' the writers of maxims. 
 
 A second edition, Mnth a translation of the Medita- 
 Hones Sacrw^ was published in the next year ; and 
 another edition enlarged in 1612, when he was solicitor- 
 general, containing thirty-eight essaj's ; and one still 
 more enlarged in 1625, containing fifty-eight essa3'S, the 
 year before his death. 
 
 The Essa3^s in the subsequent editions are much aug- 
 mented, according to his own words: "I always alter 
 when I add, so that nothing is finished till all is fin- 
 ished," and they are adorned by happy and familiar 
 illustration, as in the essa}^ of Wisdom for a Man's 
 Self, which concludes, in the edition of 1625, with the 
 
PREFACE. xiii 
 
 following extract, not to be found in the previous edi- 
 tion : " Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches 
 thereof, a depraved thing. It is the wisdom of rats, 
 that will be sure to leave a house somewhat before it 
 fall. It is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out the 
 badger, who digged and made room for him. It is the 
 wisdom of crocodiles, that shed tears when the}' would 
 devour. But that which is specially to be noted is, 
 that those which (as Cicero sa3's of Pompey) are Sui 
 Amantes sine Hivali ai'e many times unfortunate. And 
 whereas the}' have all their time sacrificed to themselves, 
 they become in the end themselves sacrifices to the in- 
 constanc}^ of Fortune, whose wings they thought, by 
 their self wisdom, to have pinioned." 
 
 So in the essay upon Adversity, on which he had 
 deepl}' reflected before the edition of 1625, when it first 
 appeared, he sa^'S : " Tlie virtue of prosperity is tem- 
 perance ; the virtue of adversit}' is fortitude ; which in 
 morals is the more heroical virtue. Prosperity is the 
 blessing of the Old Testament ; adversity is the bless- 
 mg of the New, which carrieth the great benediction, 
 and the clearer revelation of God's favor. Yet, even 
 in the Old Testament, if you listen to David's harp, 
 3'ou shall hear as man}' heai*se-like airs as carols ; and 
 the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath labored more in 
 describing the afflictions of Job than the felicities of 
 Solomon. Prosperity is not without many fears and 
 distastes, and adversity is not without comforts and 
 hopes. We see in needle- works and embroideries, it 
 IS more pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad and 
 solemn ground than to have a dark and melancholy 
 work upon a lightsome ground ; judge, therefore, of the 
 
xiv PREFACE. 
 
 pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the eye. Cer- 
 tainl}', virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when 
 the^^ are incensed, or crushed ; for prosperity doth best 
 discover vice, but adversitj^ doth best discover virtue." 
 
 The Essa3's were immediate!}' translated into French 
 and Italian, and into Latin, by some of his friends, 
 amongst whom were Hacket, Bishop of Lichfield, and 
 his constant, affectionate friend, Ben Jonson. 
 
 His own estimate of the value of this work is thus 
 stated in his letter to the Bishop of Winchester : "As 
 for m}^ Essaj's, and some other particulars of that na- 
 ture, I count them but as the recreations of m}^ other 
 studies, and in that manner purpose to continue them ; 
 though I am not ignorant that these kind of writings 
 would, with less pains and assiduity', perhaps yield more 
 lustre and reputation to my name than the others I have 
 in hand." 
 
 Although it was not likel}' that such lustre and repu- 
 tation would dazzle him, the admirer of Phocion, who, 
 when applauded, turned to one of his friends, and asked, 
 " What have I said amiss? " although popular judgment 
 was not likeh^ to mislead him who concludes his obser- 
 vations upon ^ he objections to learning and the advan- 
 tages of knowledge by sa3ing : " Nevertheless, I do not 
 pretend, and I know it will be impossible for me, by 
 an}' pleading of mine, to reverse the judgment either of 
 uEsop's cock, that preferred the barleycorn before the 
 gem ; or of Midas, that being chosen judge between 
 Apollo, president of the Muses, and Pan, god of the 
 flocks, judged for plent}' ; or of Paris, that judged for 
 beauty and love against wisdom and power. For these 
 things continue as they have been ; but so will that also 
 
PREFACE. XV 
 
 continue whereupon learning hath ever relied and which 
 faileth not, Justificata est sapientia a filiis suis : " 
 3'et he seems to have undervalued this little work, which 
 for two centuries has been favorabl}' received by every 
 lover of knowledge and of beaut}", and is now so well 
 appreciated that a celebrated professor of our own times 
 trul}^ saj's : ' ' The small volume to which he has given 
 the title of ' Essa3's,' the best known and the most popu- 
 iar of all his works, is one of those where the supe- 
 riority of his genius appears to the greatest advantage, 
 the novelty and depth of his reflections often receiving 
 a strong relief from the triteness of the subject. It may 
 be read from beginning to end in a few hours ; and 3'et 
 after the twentieth perusal one seldom fails to remark 
 in it something overlooked before. This, indeed, is a 
 characteristic of all Bacon's writings, and is only to be 
 accounted for by the inexhaustible aliment they furnish 
 to our own thoughts and the S3'mpathetic activit}' they 
 impart to our torpid faculties." 
 
 During his life six or more editions, which seem to 
 have been pirated, were published ; and after his death, 
 two spurious essays, "Of Death," and " Of a King," 
 the onl3' authentic posthumous essa3^ being the Frag- 
 ment of an Essay on Fame, which was published b3' his 
 friend and chaplain, Dr. Rawle3'. 
 
 This edition is a transcript of the edition of 1625, with 
 the posthumous essa3's. In the life of Bacon ^ there is a 
 minute account of the different editions of the Essays 
 and of their contents. 
 
 They may shortly be stated as follows : — 
 
 ^ By B. Montagu. Appendix, note 3, I. 
 b 
 
xvi PEEFACE. 
 
 First edition, 1597, genuine. 
 
 There are two copies of this edition in the university 
 library at Cambridge ; and tliere is Archbishop San- 
 croft's cop3' in Emanuel Library ; there is a copy in the 
 Bodleian, and I have a copy. 
 
 Second edition, 1598, genuine. 
 
 Third edition, 1606, pirated. 
 
 Fourth edition, entitled " The Essaies of Sir Francis 
 Bacon, Knight, the Kings Solliciter Generall. Imprinted 
 at London by lohn Beale, 1612," genuine. It was the 
 intention of Sir Francis to have dedicated this edition to 
 Henry, Prince of Wales ; but he was prevented by the 
 death of the prince on the 6th of November in that year. 
 This appears b}" the following letter : — 
 
 To the Host High and Excellent Prince, Henry, Prince of 
 Wales, DuJce of Cornwall, and Earl of Chester. 
 
 It may please your Highness : Having divided my life into 
 the contemplative and active part, I am desirous to give his 
 Majesty and your Highness of the fruits of both, simple though 
 they be. To write just treatises, requireth leisure in the writer 
 and leisure in the reader, and therefore are not so fit, neither 
 in regard of your Higlmess's princely affairs nor in regard of 
 my continual service ; which is the cause that hath made me 
 choose to write certain brief notes, set down rather significantly 
 than curiously, which I have called Essays. The word is late, 
 but the thing is ancient ; for Seneca's Epistles to Lucilius, if 
 you mark them well, are but Essays ; that is, dispersed medi- 
 tations though conveyed in the form of epistles. These labors 
 of mine, I know, cannot be worthy of your Highness, for what 
 can be worthy of you f But my hope is, they may be as grains 
 of salt, that will rather give you an appetite than ofi'end you 
 with satiety. And although they handle those things wlierein 
 
PREFACE. xvii 
 
 both men's lives and their persons are most conversant ; yet 
 what T have attained I know not ; but I have endeavored to 
 make them not vulgar, but of a nature whereof a man shall 
 find much in experience and little in books; so as they are 
 neither repetitions nor fancies. But, however, I shall most 
 humbly desire your Highness to accept them in gracious part, 
 and to conceive, that if I cannot rest but must show my duti- 
 ful and devoted affection to your Highness in these things 
 which proceed from myself, I shall be much more ready to 
 do it in performance of any of your princely commandments. 
 And so wishing your Highness all princely felicity, I rest your 
 Highness's most humble servant, 
 1612. Fr. Bacon. 
 
 It was dedicated as follows : — 
 
 To my loving Brother , Sir John Constable, Knt. 
 
 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 : 
 which, if I myselfe shall not suffer to be lost, it seemeth the 
 World will not ; by tlie often printing of the former. Miss- 
 ing my Brother, I found you next ; in respect of bond both of 
 neare Alliance, and of straight Friendship and Societie, and 
 particularly of communication in Studies. Wherein I must 
 acknowledge my selfe beholding to you. For as my Businesse 
 found rest in my Contemplations, so my Contemplations ever 
 found rest in your loving Conference and Judgment. So wish- 
 ing you all good, I remaine your louing Brother and Friend, 
 
 FiiA. Bacon. 
 
 Fifth edition, 1612, pirated. Sixth edition, 1613, pi- 
 rated. Seventh edition, 1624, pirated. Eighth edition, 
 1624, pirated. Ninth edition, entitled, "The Essayes 
 or Covnsels, Civill and Morall, of Francis Lo. Vervlam, 
 
xviii PKEFACE. 
 
 Viscovnt St. Alban. Newl}' enlarged. London, Printed 
 by lohn Haviland for Hanna Barret and Richard Whita- 
 ker, and are to be sold at the Signe of the King's Head 
 in Paul's Churchyard." 1625, genuine. 
 
 This edition is a small quarto of 340 pages ; it clearly 
 was published b}^ Lord Bacon ; and in the next 3'ear, 
 1626, Lord Bacon died. The Dedication is as follows, 
 to the Duke of Buckingham : — 
 
 To the Bight Honorable my very good Lo. the Duke of Buck- 
 ingham his Grace, Lo. High Admirall of England. 
 
 Excellent Lo. : — Salomon sales, A good Name is as 
 a precious Oyiitment ; and I assure myselfe, such M^il your 
 Grace's Name bee, with Posteritie. For your Fortune and 
 Merit both, haue beene eminent. And you haue planted things 
 that are like to last. I doe now publish my Essayes ; which, 
 of all my other Workes, have beene most cun-ant : for that, as 
 it seemes, they come home to Mens Businesse and Bosomes. I 
 haue enlarged them both in number and weight, so that they 
 are indeed a new Work. I thought it therefore agreeable to 
 my Affection, and Obligation to your Grace, to prefix your 
 Name before them, both in English and in Latine. For I 
 doe conceiue, that the Latine Volume of them (being in the 
 vniuersal language) may last as long as Bookes last. My 
 Instauration I dedicated to the King : my Historic of Henry 
 the Seventh (which I haue now also translated into Latine), 
 and my Portions of Naturall History, to the Prince : and these 
 I dedicate to your Grace : being of the best Fruits, that by 
 the good encrease which God gives to my pen and labours, 
 I could yeeld. God leade your Grace by the Hand. Your 
 Graces most obliged and faithfull Seruant. 
 
 Fk. St. Alban. 
 
PREFACE. xix 
 
 Of this edition, Lord Bacon sent a cop}^ to the Mar- 
 quis Fiat, with the following letter : ^ — 
 
 ^' Monsieur l'Ambassadeur mon Filz : Voyant que 
 vostre Excellence foict et traite Manages, non seulemeiit entre 
 les Princes d'Angleterre et de France, niais aussi entre les 
 langues (puis que faictes traduire mon Liure de I'Advance- 
 ment des Sciences en Francois) i'ai bien voulu vous envoyer 
 mon Liure dernierement imprime que i'avois pourveu pour 
 vous, mais i'estois en douhte, de le vous envoyer, pour ce 
 qu'il estoit escrit en Anglois. Mais a' ccst'heure pour la raison 
 susdicte ie le vous envoye. C'est un Recompilement de mes 
 Essays Morales et Civiles; mais tellement enlargies et en- 
 richies, tant de nombre que de poix, que c'est de fait un ouvre 
 nouveau. Ie vous baise les mains, et reste vostre tres affec- 
 tion ee Ami, et tres humble Serviteur. 
 
 THE SAME IN ENGLISH. 
 
 My Lord Ambassador, my Son : Seeing that your Ex- 
 cellency makes and treats of Marriages, not only betwixt the 
 Princes of France and England, but also betwixt their lan- 
 guages (for you have caused my book of the Advancement of 
 Learning to be translated into French), I was much inclined 
 to make you a present of the last book which I published, and 
 which I had in readiness for you. I was sometimes in doubt 
 whether I ought to have sent it to you, because it was writ- 
 ten in the English tongue. But now, for that very reason, I 
 send it to you. It is a recompilement of my Essays Moral 
 and Civil ; but in such manner enlarged and enriched both in 
 number and weight, that it is in effect a new work. I kiss 
 your hands, and remain your most affectionate friend and most 
 humble servant, &c. 
 
 Of the translation of the Essaj's into Latin, Bacon 
 speaks in the following letter: — 
 
 1 Baconiana, 201. 
 
XX PREFACE. 
 
 " To Mr. Tobie Mathew : It is true my labors are now 
 most set to have those works which I had formerly published, 
 as that of Advancement of Learning, that of Henry VII., that 
 of the Essays, being retractate and made more perfect, well 
 translated into Latin by the help of some good pens which for- 
 sake me not. For these modern languages will, at one time 
 or other, play the bankrupt with books ; and since I have 
 lost much time with this age, I would be glad, as God shall 
 give me leave, to recover it with posterity. For the Essay 
 of Friendship, while I took your speech of it for a cursory 
 request, I took my promise for a compliment. But since you 
 call for it, I shall perform it." 
 
 In his letter to Father Fulgentio, giving some account 
 of his writings, he saj's : — 
 
 '* The Novum Organum should immediately follow ; but my 
 moral and political writings step in between as being more 
 finished. These are, the History of King Henry VII., and the 
 small book, which, in your language, you have called Saggi 
 31oral% but I give it a graver title, that of Sermones Fideles, 
 or Interiora Beriim, and these Essays will not only be enlarged 
 in number, but still more in substance." 
 
 The nature of the Latin edition, and of the Essays in 
 general, is thus stated b}" Archbishop Tenison : — 
 
 " The Essays, or Counsels Civil and Moral, though a by- 
 work also, do yet make up a book of greater weight by far 
 than the Apothegms ; and coming home to men's business 
 and bosoms, his lordship entertained this persuasion concern- 
 ing them, that the Latin volume might last as long as books 
 should last. His lordship wrote them in the English tongue, 
 and enlarged them as occasion served, and at last added to 
 them the Colors of Good and Evil, which are likewise found 
 in his book De Augmentis. The Latin translation of them was 
 
PREFACE. xxi 
 
 a work performed by divers hands : by those of Dr. Haeket 
 (late Bishop of Lichfield), Mr. Benjamin Jonson (the learned 
 and judicious poet,) and some others, whose names I once 
 heard from Dr. Rawley, but I cannot now recall them. To 
 this Latin edition he gave the title of Sermones Fideles, after 
 the manner of the Jews, who called the words Adagies, or 
 Observations of the Wise, Faithful Sayings ; that is, credible 
 propositions worthy of firm assent and ready acceptance. And 
 (as I think), he alluded more particularly, in this title, to a 
 passage in Ecclesiastes, where the preacher saith, tnat he 
 sought to find out Verba Delectabilia (as Tremellius render- 
 eth the Hebrew), pleasant words ] (that is, perhaps, his Book 
 of Canticles;) and Verba Fidelia (as the same Tremellius), 
 Faithful Sayings ; meaning, it may be, his collection of Prov- 
 erbs. In the next verse, he calls them Words of the Wise, 
 and so many goads and nails given ab eodem pastore, from the 
 same shepherd [of the flock of Israel"]. 
 
 In the year 1638, Rawley published, in folio, a 
 volume containing, amongst other works, /Sermones 
 Fideles^ ab ipso Honoratissimo Auctore, prceterquam 
 in paucis^ Latinitate donati. In his address to the 
 reader, he says : — 
 
 Accedunt, quas prius Delibationes Civiles et Morales inscrip- 
 serat ; Quas etiam in Linguas plurimas Modernas translatas 
 esse novit ; sed eas posted, et Numero, et Pondere, auxit ; In 
 tantum, ut veluti Opus Novum videri possint ; Quas mutato 
 TituJo, Sermones Fideles, sive Interiora Rerum, inscribi pla- 
 cuit. The title-page and dedication are annexed : Sermones 
 Fideles sive Interiora Rerum. Per Franciscum Baconuyn Bare* 
 ronem de Vervlamio, Vice-Comitem Sancti Albani. Londini 
 Excusum typis Edwardi Griffin. Prostant ad Insignia Megia 
 in Coemeterio D. PauU, apud Eichardum Whitakerum, 1638. 
 
xxii PREFACE. 
 
 Illustri et Excellenti Domino Georgia Duci Buckinghmnice, 
 Summo Anglice Adinirallio. 
 
 Honoratissime Bomine, Salomon inquit, Nomen honiim est 
 instar Vnguenti fragrantis et pretiosi ; Neque dubito, quin tale 
 futurum sit Nomen tuum apud Posteros. Etenim et For- 
 tuna, et Merita tua, prsecelluerunt. Et videris ea plantasse, 
 quae sint duratura. In lucein jam edere mihi visum est Deliha- 
 tiones meas, quae ex omnibus meis Operibus fuerunt acceptis- 
 simse : Quia forsitan videntur, prse cseteris, Hominum Negotia 
 stringere, et in sinus fluere. Eas autem auxi, et Numero, et 
 Pondere ; In tantum, ut plane Opus Novum sint. Consenta- 
 neum igitur duxi, Affectui, et Obligation! mese, erga lUustris- 
 simam Dominationem tuam, ut Nomen tuum illis prsefigam, 
 tam in Editione Anglicd, quam Latind. Etenim, in bona 
 spe sum, Volumen earum in Latinam {Linguam scilicet uni- 
 versalem), versum, posse durare, qnamdiu Libi'i et Literce 
 durent. Instaurationem meam Begi dicavi : Historiam Begni 
 Henrici Septimi (quam etiam in Latinum verti et Poitiones 
 meas Naturalis Histories, Principi) : Has autem Delihationes 
 Illustrissimce Dominationi tuse dico, Cum sint, ex Fructibus 
 optimis, quos Gratia divina Calami mei laboribus indulgeute, 
 exhibere potui. Deus illustrissimam Dominationem tuam mauu 
 ducat, niustrissimce Dominationis tuse Servus Devinctissimus 
 et Fidelis. Fr. S. Alban. 
 
 In the 3-ear 1618, the Essa3-s, together with the Wis- 
 dom of the Ancients, was translated into Italian, and 
 dedicated to Cosmo de 3Iedici, by Tobie Mathew ; and 
 in the following 3'ear the Essaj's were translated into 
 French by Sir Arthur Gorges, and printed in London. 
 
PREFACE. xxiii 
 
 WISDOM OF THE ATs^CIENTS. 
 
 In the 3'ear 1609, as a relaxation from abstruse specu- 
 lations, he published in Latin his interesting little work, 
 De Sapientia Veterum. 
 
 This tract seems, in former times, to have been much 
 valued. The fables, abounding with a union of deep 
 thought and poetic beaut}', are thirtj'-one in number, 
 of which a part of The Sirens, or Pleasures, ma}' be 
 selected as a specimen. 
 
 In this fable he explains the common but erroneous 
 supposition that knowledge and the conformit}^ of the 
 will, knowing and acting, are convertible terms. Of 
 this error, he, in his essaj- of Custom and Education, 
 admonishes his readers, by saying: "Men's thoughts 
 are much according to their inclination ; their discourse 
 and speeches according to their learning and infused 
 opinions, but their deeds are after as they have been 
 accustomed ; ^sop's Damsel, transformed from a cat 
 to a woman, sat very demurely at the board-end till a 
 mouse ran before her," In the fable of the Sirens he 
 exhibits the same truth, saying: "The habitation of 
 the Sirens was in certain pleasant islands, from whence, 
 as soon as out of their watchtower the}^ discovered an}' 
 ships approaching, with their sweet tunes they would 
 first entice and stay them, and, having them in their 
 power, would destro}" them ; and, so great were the mis- 
 chiefs the}" did, that these isles of the Sirens, even as 
 far off as man can ken them, appeared all over white 
 with the bones of unburied carcasses ; by which it is 
 signified that albeit the examples of aflSictions be mani- 
 
xxiv PEEFACE. 
 
 fest and eminent, yet they do not sufficiently deter us 
 from the wicked enticements of pleasure." 
 
 The following is the account of the different editions 
 of this work : The first was published in 1609. In Feb- 
 ruary 27, 1610, Lord Bacon wrote to Mr. Mathew, upon 
 sending his book De Sapientia VeteruTn : — 
 
 " Mr. Mathew : I do very heartily thank you for your let- 
 ter of the 24th of August, from Salamanca j and in recom- 
 pense therefore I send you a httle work of mine that hath 
 begun to pass the world. They tell me my Latin is turned 
 into silver, and become current : had you been here, you should 
 have been my inquisitor before it came forth ; but, I think, the 
 greatest inquisitor in Spain will aUow it. But one thing you 
 must pardon me if I make no haste to beheve, that the world 
 should be grown to such an ecstasy as to reject truth in philoso- 
 phy, because the author dissenteth in religion ; no more than 
 they do by Aristotle or Averroes. My great work goeth for- 
 ward J and after my manner, I alter even when I add ; so that 
 nothing is finished till all be finished. This I have written in 
 the midst of a term and parliament ; thinking no time so pos- 
 sessed, but that I should talk of these matters with so good 
 and dear a friend. And so with my wonted wishes I leave 
 you to God's goodness. 
 
 "From Gray's Inn, Feb. 27, 1610." 
 
 And in his letter to Father Fulgentio, giving some 
 account of his writings, he says : " My Essaj^s will not 
 onl3"be enlarged in number, but still more in substance. 
 Along with them goes the little piece De Sapientia 
 Veterum.'' 
 
 In the Advancement of Learning he saj'S : — 
 
 *' There remaiueth yet anotlier use of poesy parabolical, 
 opposite to that which we last mentioned ; for that tendeth 
 
PREFACE. XXV 
 
 to demonstrate and illustrate that which is taught or deliv- 
 ered, and this other to retire and obscure it ; that is, when the 
 secrets and mysteries of religion, policy, or philosophy are in- 
 volved in fables or parables. Of this in divine poesy we see 
 the use is authorized. In heathen poesy we see the exposition 
 of fables doth fall out sometimes with great felicity ; as in the 
 fable that the giants being overthrown in their war against 
 the gods, the earth, their mother, in revenge thereof brought 
 forth Fame, — 
 
 Illam Terra parens, ird irritata Deorum, 
 Extremam, ut perhihent, Coeo Enceladoque sororem 
 Progenuit^ 
 
 expounded, that when princes and monarchs have suppressed 
 actual and open rebels, then the malignity of the people, which 
 is the mother of rebellion, doth bring forth libels and slanders, 
 and taxations of the State, which is of the same kind with 
 rebellion, but more feminine. So in the fable, that the rest 
 of the gods having conspired to bind Jupiter, Pallas called 
 Briareus, with his hundred hands, to his aid ; expounded, that 
 monarchies need not fear any curbing of their absoluteness by 
 mighty subjects, as long as by wisdom they keep the hearts 
 of the people, who will be sure to come in on their side. So 
 in the fable, that Achilles was brought up under Chiron, the 
 centaur, who was part a man and part a beast, expounded 
 ingeniously, but corruptly by Machiavel, that it belongeth to 
 the education and discipline of princes to know as well how 
 to play the part of the lion in violence, and the fox in guile, 
 as of the man in virtue and justice. Nevertheless, in many 
 the like encounters, I do rather think that the fable was first, 
 and the exposition then devised, than that the moral was 
 first, and thereupon the fable framed. For I find it was an 
 ancient vanity in Chrysippus, that troubled himself with great 
 contention to fasten the assertions of the stoics upon the fic- 
 tions of the ancient poets ; but yet that all the fables and 
 fictions of the poets were but pleasure, and not figure, I 
 
xxvi PREFACE. 
 
 interpose no opinion. Surely, of those poets which are now 
 extant, even Homer himself (notwithstanding he was made a 
 kind of Scripture by the latter schools of the Grecians), yet I 
 should without any difficulty pronounce that his fables had no 
 such inwardness in his own meaning; but what they might 
 have upon a more original tradition, is not easy to affirm ; for 
 he was not the inventor of many of them." 
 
 In the treatise J)e Aiigmentis the same sentiments 
 will be found, with a slight alteration in the expres- 
 sions. He saj's : — 
 
 '' There is another use of parabolical poesy opposite to the 
 former, which tendeth to the folding up of those things, the 
 dignity whereof deserves to be retired and distinguished, as 
 with a drawn curtain; that is, when the secrets and mysteries 
 of religion, policy, and philosophy are veiled and invested with 
 fables and parables. But whether there be any mystical sense 
 couched under the ancient fables of the poets, may admit some 
 doubt ; and, indeed, for our part, we incline to this opinion, 
 as to think that there was an infused mystery in many of the 
 ancient fables of the poets. Neither doth it move us that these 
 matters are left commonly to school-boys and grammarians, 
 and so are embased, that we should therefore make a slight 
 judgment upon them, but contrariwise, because it is clear that 
 the A^Titings which recite those fables, of all the writings of 
 men, next to sacred writ, are the most ancient; and that the 
 fables themselves are far more ancient than they (being they 
 are alleged by those writers, not as excogitated by them, but 
 as credited and recepted before) seem to be, like a thin rarefied 
 air, which, from the traditions of more ancient nations, fell into 
 the flutes of the Grecians." 
 
 Of this tract, Archbishop Tenison, in his Baconiana^ 
 says : — 
 
PREFACE. xxvii 
 
 " In the seventh place, I may reckon his book De Sapientia 
 Veterum, written by him in Latin, and set forth a second time 
 with enhirgement; and transhited into EngUsh by Sir Ailhur 
 Gorges ; a book in which the sages of former times are ren- 
 dered more wise than it may be they were, by so dexterous an 
 interpreter of their fables. It is this book which Mr. Sandys 
 means, in those words which he hath put before his notes on the 
 Metamorphosis of Ovid. ' Of modern writers, I have received 
 the greatest light from Geraldus, Pontanus, Ficinus, Vives, 
 Comes, Scaliger, Sabiuus, Pierius, and the crown of the lat- 
 ter, the Viscount of St. Albans.^ 
 
 '^ It is true, the design of this book was instruction in natu- 
 ral and civil matters, either couched by the ancients under 
 those fictions, or rather made to seem to be so by his lord- 
 ship's wit, in the opening and applying of them. But because 
 the first ground of it is poetical story, therefore, let it have this 
 place till a fitter be found for it." 
 
 The author of Bacon's Life, in the BiograpMa Britan- 
 
 nica^ says : — 
 
 '^ That he might relieve himself a little from the severity of 
 these studies, and, as it were, amuse himself with erecting a 
 magnificent pavilion, while his great palace of philosophy was 
 building, he composed and sent abroad, in 1610, his celebrated 
 treatise of the Wisdom of the Ancients, in which he showed 
 that none had studied them more closely, was better acquainted 
 with their beauties, or had pierced deeper into their meaning. 
 There have been very few books published, either in this or 
 any other nation, which either deserved or met with more gen- 
 eral applause than this, and scarce any that are like to retain 
 it longer, for in this performance Sir Francis Bacon gave a 
 singular proof of his capacity to please all parties in literature, 
 as in his political conduct he stood fair with all the parties 
 in the nation. The admirers of antiquity were charmed with 
 this discourse, w^iich seems expressly calculated to justify their 
 
xxviii PREFACE. 
 
 admiration; and, on tlie other hand, their opposites were no 
 less pleased with a piece from which they thought they could 
 demonstrate that the sagacity of a modern genius had found 
 out much better meanings for the ancients than ever were 
 meant by them." 
 
 And Mallet, in his Life of Bacon, sa3'S : — 
 
 ^^In IGIO he published another treatise, entitled, Of the 
 Wisdom of the Ancients. This work bears the same stamp 
 of an original and inventive genius with his other perform- 
 ances. Resolving not to tread in the steps of those who had 
 gone before him, men, according to his own expression, not 
 learned beyond certain commonplaces, he strikes out a new 
 tract for himself, and enters into the most secret recesses of 
 this wild and shadowy region, so as to appear new on a known 
 and beaten subject. Upon the whole, if we cannot bring our- 
 selves readily to believe that there is all the physical, moral, 
 and political meaning veiled under those fables of antiquity, 
 which he has discovered in them, we must own that it required 
 no common penetration to be mistaken with so great an appear- 
 ance of probability on his side. Though it still remains doubt- 
 ful whether the ancients were so knowing as he attempts to 
 show they were, the variety and depth of his own knowledge 
 are, in that very attempt, unquestionable." 
 
 In the year 1619 this tract was translated by Sir 
 Arthur Gorges. Prefixed to the work are two letters ; 
 the one to the Earl of Salisbur}', the other to the Uni- 
 versity of Cambridge, which Gorges omits, and dedi- 
 cates his translation to the high and illustrious princess 
 the Lady EUzabeth of Great Britain, Duchess of Ba^dare, 
 Countess Palatine of Rheine, and chief electress of the 
 empire. 
 
 This translation, it should be noted, was published 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 XXIX 
 
 during the life of Lord Bacon by a great admirer of his 
 works. 
 
 The editions of this work with which I am acquainted 
 are : — 
 
 Year. 
 
 Language. 
 
 Printer. 
 
 Place. 
 
 Size. 
 
 1609 
 
 Latin, 
 
 R. Barker, 
 
 London, 
 
 12mo. 
 
 1617 
 
 (( 
 
 J. Bill, 
 
 (« 
 
 (( 
 
 1618 
 
 Italian, 
 
 G. Bill, 
 
 « 
 
 (< 
 
 1619 
 
 English, 
 
 J. Bill, 
 
 (( 
 
 tt 
 
 1620 
 
 « 
 
 " 
 
 (( 
 
 ii 
 
 1633 
 
 Latin, 
 
 F. Maire, 
 
 Lug. Bat., 
 
 ft 
 
 1634 
 
 " 
 
 F. Kingston, 
 
 London, 
 
 K 
 
 1638 
 
 (C 
 
 E. Griffin, 
 
 t< 
 
 Folio. 
 
 1691 
 
 (( 
 
 H. Wetstein, 
 
 Amsterdam, 
 
 12mo. 
 
 1804 
 
 French, 
 
 H. Frantin, 
 
 Dijon, 
 
 8vo. 
 
NOTICE 
 
 OF 
 
 FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 Francis Bacon, the subject of the following 
 memoir, was the youngest son of highly remarkable 
 parents. His father, Sir Nicholas Bacon, was an 
 eminent lawyer, and for twenty years Keeper of the 
 Seals and Privy Counsellor to Queen Elizabeth. Sir 
 Nicholas was styled by Camden sacris conciliis cilte- 
 rum columen; he was the author of some unpub- 
 lished discourses on law and politics, and of a 
 commentary on the minor prophets. He discharged 
 the duties of his high office with exemplary pro- 
 priety and wisdom ; he j)reserved through life the 
 integrity of a good man, and the moderation and 
 simplicity of a great one. He had inscribed over 
 the entrance of his hall, at Gorhambury, the motto, 
 mediocria firma ; and when the Queen, in a progress, 
 paid him a visit there, she remarked to him that his 
 house was too small for him. " Madam," answered 
 the Lord Keeper, "my house is well, but it is you 
 
2 NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON. 
 
 that have made me too great for my house." This 
 anecdote has been preserved by his son/ who, had 
 he as carefully retained the lesson of practical wis- 
 dom it contained, might have avoided the misfor- 
 tunes and sorrows of his checkered life. 
 
 Bacon's mother, Anne Cooke, was the daughter 
 of Sir Anthony Cooke, tutor to King Edward the 
 Sixth ; like the young ladies of her time, like Lady 
 Jane Grey, like Queen Elizabeth, she received an 
 excellent classical education ; her sister. Lady Bur- 
 leigh, was pronounced by Roger Ascham, Queen 
 Elizabeth's preceptor, to be, with the exception of 
 Lady Jane Grey, the best Greek scholar among the 
 young women of England.^ Anne Cooke, the future 
 Lady Bacon, corresponded in Greek with Bishop 
 Jewel, and translated from the Latin this divine's 
 Apologia ; a task which she performed so well that 
 it is said the good prelate could not discover an 
 inaccuracy or suggest an alteration. She also trans- 
 lated from the Italian a volume of sermons on fate 
 and freewill, written by Bernardo Ochino, an Italian 
 reformer. Francis Bacon, the youngest of five sons, 
 
 ^ Bacon's Apophthegms. 
 
 2 It is not surprising that ladies then received an education 
 rare in our own times. It should be remembered that in the 
 sixteenth century Latin was the language of courts and schools, 
 of diplomacy, politics, and theology ; it was the universal lan- 
 guage, and there was then no literature in the modern tongues, 
 except the Italian ; indeed all knowledge, ancient and modern, 
 was conveyed to the world in the language of the ancients. The 
 great productions of Athens and Rome were the intellectual all of 
 our ancestors down to the middle of the sixteenth century. 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 3 
 
 inheritsd the classical learning and taste of both his 
 parents. 
 
 He was born at York House, in the Strand, Lon- 
 don, on the 22d of January, 1560-61. His health, 
 when he was a boy, was delicate ; a circumstance 
 which may perhaps account for his early love of 
 sedentary pursuits, and probably the early gravity 
 of his demeanor. Queen Elizabeth, he tells us, 
 took particular dfelight in "trying him with ques- 
 tions," when he was quite a child, and was so much 
 pleased with the sense and manliness of his answers 
 that she used jocularly to call him " her young Lord 
 Keeper of the Seals." Bacon himself relates that 
 while he was a boy, the Queen once asked him his 
 age ; the precocious courtier readily replied that he 
 " was just two years younger than her happy reign." 
 He is said, also, when very young, to have stolen 
 away from his playfellows in order to investigate 
 the cause of a singular echo in St. James's Fields, 
 which attracted his attention. 
 
 Until the age of thirteen he remained under the 
 tuition of his accomplished mother, aided by a pri- 
 vate tutor only ; under their care he attained the 
 elements of the classics, that education preliminary 
 to the studies of the University. At thirteen he 
 was sent to Trinity College, Cambridge, where his 
 father had been educated. Here he studied dili- 
 gently the great models of antiquity, mathematics, 
 and philosophy, worshipped, however, but indevoutly 
 at the shrine of Aristotle, whom, according to Raw- 
 
4 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 ley, his chaplain and biographer, he already derided 
 " for the unfniitfulness of the way, — being only 
 strong for disputation, but barren of the production 
 of works for the life of man." He remained three 
 years at this seat of learning, without, however, 
 taking a degree at his departure. 
 
 When he was but sixteen years old he began his 
 travels, the indispensable end of every finished edu- 
 cation in England. He repaired 'to Paris, where he 
 resided some time under the care of Sir Amyas Paulet, 
 the English minister at the court of France. 
 
 Here he invented an ingenious method of writing 
 in cipher ; an art which he probably cultivated with 
 a view to a diplomatic career. 
 
 He visited several of the provinces of France and 
 of the towns of Italy. Italy was then the country 
 in which human knowledge in all its branches was 
 most successfully cultivated. It is related by Signer 
 Cancellieri that Bacon, when at Rome, presented 
 himself as a candidate to the Academy of the Lincei, 
 and was not admitted.^ He remained on the conti- 
 nent for three years, until his father's death, in 1580. 
 The melancholy event, which bereft him of his 
 parent, at the age of nineteen, was fatal to his pros- 
 pects. His father had intended to purchase an es- 
 tate for his youngest son, as he had done for his 
 other sons; but he dying before this intention was 
 
 1 Prospetto delle Memoric aneddotc dei Lincei da F. Cancellieri. 
 Koma, 1823. This fact is quoted by Monsieur Cousin, in a note to 
 his Fragments dc Philosophic CarUsicnne. 
 
NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON. 5 
 
 realized, the money was equally divided between 
 all the children; so that Francis inherited but one 
 fifth of that fortune intended for him alone. He 
 was the only one of the sons that was left unprovided 
 for. He had now "to study to live," instead of 
 " living to study." He wished, to use his own lan- 
 guage, "to become a true pioneer in that mine of 
 truth which lies so deep." He applied to the gov- 
 ernment for a provision which his father's interest 
 would easily have secured him, and by which he 
 might dispense with a profession. The Queen must 
 have looked with favor upon the son of a minister, 
 who had served her faithfully for twenty long years, 
 and upon a young man whom, when he was a child, 
 she had caressed, she had distinguished by the appel- 
 lation of her "young Lord Keeper." But Francis 
 Bacon was abandoned, and perhaps opposed by the 
 colleague and nearest friend of his father, the brother- 
 in-law of his mother, his maternal uncle. Lord Bur- 
 leigh, then Prime Minister, who feared for his son 
 the rivalry of his all-talented nephew. It is a trick 
 common to envy and detraction, to convert a man's 
 very qualities into their concomitant defects ; and 
 because Bacon was a great thinker, he was repre- 
 sented as unfit for the active duties of business, as 
 " a man rather of show than of depth," as " a specu- 
 lative man, indulging himself in philosophical rever- 
 ies, and calculated more to perplex than to promote 
 public business." ^ Thus was the future ornament 
 
 1 Sir Robert Cecil. 
 
6 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 of his country and of mankind sacrificed to Robert, 
 afterwards Sir Robert Cecil, Earl of Salisbury, of 
 whose history fame has learned but little, save the 
 execution of Essex and Mary Queen of Scots, the 
 name, and this petty act of mean jealousy of his 
 father ! In the disposal of patronage and place, acts 
 and even motives of this species are not so unfre- 
 quent as the world would appear to imagine. In 
 all ages, it is to be feared, many and great, as in 
 Shakspeare's time, are, 
 
 the spurns 
 That patient merit of th' unworthy takes. 
 
 It is, however, but justice to the morals of Lord 
 Burleigh, to add that he was insensible to literary 
 merit ; he thought a hundred pounds too great a 
 reward to be given to Sj^enser for what he termed 
 "an old song," for so he denominated the Faery 
 Queen, 
 
 Bacon then selected the law as his profession; 
 and in 1 580 he was entered of Gray's Inn ; ^ he 
 resisted the temptations of his companions and 
 friends, (for his company was much courted), and 
 diligently pursued the study he had chosen ; but he 
 did not at this time entirely lose sight of his philo- 
 sophical speculations, for he then published his Tem- 
 imris partus maximus, or The Greatest Birth of Time, 
 This work, notwithstanding its pompous title, was 
 unnoticed or rather fell stillborn from the press ; the 
 
 1 Gray's Inn is one of the four Inns or companies for the study 
 of law. 
 
NOTICE OF FKANCTS BACON. 7 
 
 sole trace of it is found in one of his letters to Father 
 Fulgentio. 
 
 In 1586, he was called to the bar; his practice 
 there appears to have been limited, although not 
 without success ; for the Queen and the Court are 
 said to have gone to hear him when he was engaged 
 in any celebrated cause. He was, at this period of 
 his life, frequently admitted to the Queen's presence 
 and conversation. He was appointed her Majesty's 
 Counsel Extraordinary,^ but he had no salary and 
 small fees. 
 
 In 1592, his uncle, the Lord Treasurer, procured 
 for him the reversion of the registrarship of the Star 
 Chamber, worth sixteen hundred pounds (forty thou- 
 sand francs) a year; but the office did not become 
 vacant till twenty years after, so that, as Bacon 
 justly observes, ''it might mend his prospects, but 
 did not fill his barns." 
 
 A parliament was summoned in 1593, and Bacon 
 was returned to tlie House of Commons, for the 
 County of Middlesex ; he distinguished himself here 
 as a speaker. ''The fear of every man who heard 
 him," says his contemporary, Ben Jonson, "was 
 lest he should make an end." He made, however, 
 on one occasion a speech which much displeased 
 t!ie Queen and Court. Elizabeth directed the Lord 
 
 1 King's or Queen's Counsel are barristers that plead for the 
 government ; they receive fees but no salary ; the first were 
 appointed in the reign of Charles II. Queen's Counsel extraordi- 
 nary was a title peculiar to Bacon, granted, as the patent specially 
 states, honoris causa. 
 
8 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 Keeper to intimate to him that he must expect 
 neither favor nor promotion ; the repentant courtier 
 replied in writing, that "her MajcvSty's favor was 
 dearer to him than his life." ^ 
 
 In the following year the situation of Solicitor- 
 General 2 became vacant. Bacon ardently aspired to 
 it. He applied successively to Lord Burleigh, his 
 uncle, to Lord Puckering, his father's successor, to 
 the Earl of Essex, their rival, and finally to the Queen 
 herself, accompanying his letters, as was the custom 
 of the times, with a present, a jewel.^ But once 
 more he saw mediocrity preferred, and himself rejected. 
 A Serjeant Fleming was appointed her Majesty's 
 Solicitor-General. Bacon, overwhelmed by this dis- 
 appointment, wished to retire from public life, and to 
 reside abroad. " I hoped," said he in a letter to Sir 
 Robert Cecil, " her Majesty would not be offended 
 that, not able to endure the sun, I fled into the shade." 
 
 The Earl of Essex, whose mind, says Mr. Ma- 
 caulay, " naturally disposed to admiration of all that 
 
 1 Letter to Lord Burleigh. 
 
 2 The Solicitor-General is a law-officer inferior in rank to the 
 Attorney-General, with whom he is associated in the manage- 
 ment of the law business of the crown. He pleads also for pri- 
 vate individuals, but not against government. He has a small 
 salary, but very considerable fees. The salary in Bacon's time 
 was but seventy pounds. 
 
 ^ Bacon was, like other courtiers, in the habit of presenting 
 the Queen with a New Year's gift. On one occasion, it was a 
 white satin petticoat embroidered with snakes and fruitage, as 
 emblems of wisdom and beauty. The donors varied in rank from 
 the Lord Keeper down to the dust-man. 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 9 
 
 is great and beautiful, was fascinated by the genius 
 and the accomplishments of Bacon," ^ had exerted 
 every effort in Bacon's behalf; to use his own lan- 
 guage, he "spent all his power, might, authority, 
 and amity ; " he now sought to indemnify him, and, 
 with royal munificence, presented him with an estate 
 of the value of nearly two thousand pounds, a sum 
 worth perhaps four or five times the amount in the 
 money of our days. If anything could enhance the 
 benefaction, it was the delicacy with which it was 
 conferred, or, as Bacon himself expresses it, "with 
 so kind and noble circumstances as the manner was 
 worth more than the matter." 
 
 Bacon published his Essays in 1597 ; he considered 
 them but as the " recreations of his other, studies." 
 The idea of them was probably first suggested by 
 Montaigne's Essais, but there is little resemblance 
 between the two works beyond the titles. The 
 first edition contained but ten Essays, which were 
 shorter than they now are. The work was reprinted 
 in 1598, with little or no variation; again in 1606; 
 and in 1612 there was a fourth edition, etc. How- 
 ever, he afterwards, he says, "enlarged it both in 
 number and Aveight ; " but it did not assume its 
 present form until the ninth edition, in 1625, that 
 is, twenty-eight years after its first publication, and 
 one year before the death of the author. It ap- 
 peared under the new title of The Essaies or Covn- 
 sels Civill and Morally of Francis Lo, Vervlarrij 
 
 1 Essays. 
 
10 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 Viscovnt St. Alban. Newly enlarged. This is not 
 followed by the Religious Meditations, Places of 
 Perswasion and Disswasion, seene and alloived. The 
 Essays were soon translated into Italian with the title 
 of Saggi Morali del Signore Francesco Bacono, Cav- 
 agliero Inglese, Gran Cancelliero d' Inghilterra. 
 This translation was dedicated to Cosmo de Medici, 
 Grand Duke of Tuscany ; and was reprinted in Lon- 
 don in 1618. Of the three Essays added after 
 Bacon's decease, two of them, Of a King and Of 
 Death, are not genuine ; the Fragment of an Essay 
 on Fame alone is Bacon's. 
 
 In this same year (1597) he again took his seat 
 in Parliament. He soon made ample amends for 
 his opposition speech in the previous session ; but 
 this time he gained the favor of the Court with- 
 out forfeiting his popularity in the House of 
 Commons. 
 
 He now thought of strengthening his interest, or 
 increasing his fortune, by a matrimonial connection ; 
 and he sought the hand of a rich w^dow, Lady 
 Hatton, his second cousin ; but here he was again 
 doomed to disappointment ; a preference was given 
 to his old rival, the Attorney-General, Sir Edward 
 Coke, notwithstanding the " seven objections to 
 him — his six children and himself." But although 
 Bacon was perhaps unaware of it, the rejection of 
 his suit was one of the happiest events of his life ; 
 for the eccentric manners and violent temper of the 
 lady rendered her a torment to all around her, and 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 11 
 
 probably most of all to her husband. In reality, 
 as has been wittily observed, the lady was doubly 
 kind to him ; '^ she rejected him, and she accepted 
 his enemy." 
 
 Another mortification awaited him at this period. 
 A relentless creditor, a usurer, had him arrested for 
 a debt of three hundred pounds, and he was con- 
 veyed to a spunging-house, where he was confined 
 for a few days, until arrangements could be made 
 to satisfy the claim or the claimant. 
 
 We now arrive at a painfully sad point in the life 
 of Bacon ; a dark foul spot, which should be hidden 
 forever, did not history, like the magistrate of Egypt 
 that interrogated the dead, demand that the truth, 
 the whole truth, should be told. 
 
 We have seen that between Bacon and the Earl 
 of Essex, all was disinterested afiection on the part 
 of the latter; the Earl employed his good offices 
 for him, exerted heart and soul to insure his success 
 as Solicitor-General, and, on Bacon's failure, con- 
 ferred on him a princely favor, a gift of no ordinary 
 value. 
 
 When Essex's fortunes declined, and the Earl fell 
 into disgrace. Bacon endeavored to mediate between 
 the Queen and her favorite. The case became hope- 
 less. Essex left his command in Ireland without 
 leave, was ordered in confinement, and after a long 
 imprisonment and trial before the Privy Council, he 
 was liberated. Irritated by the refusal of a favor 
 he solicited, he was betrayed into reflections on the 
 
12 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 Queen's age and person, which were never to be 
 forgiven, and he engaged in a conspiracy to seize 
 on the Queen, and to settle a new plan of govern- 
 ment. On the failure of this attempt, he was ar- 
 rested, committed to the Tower, and brought to trial 
 for high treason before the House of Peers. During 
 his long captivity, who does not expect to see Bacon, 
 his friend, a frequent visitor in his cell ? Before 
 the two tribunals, can we fail to meet Bacon, his 
 counsel, at his side? We trace Bacon at Court, 
 where, he assures us, after Elizabeth's death, that 
 he endeavored to appease and reconcile the Queen ; 
 but the place was too distant from the prison : for 
 he never visited there his fallen friend. 
 
 At the first trial, Bacon did indeed make his ap- 
 pearance, but as " her Majesty's Counsel extraordi- 
 nary," not for the defence, but for the prosecution 
 of the prisoner. But he may be expected at least 
 to have treated him leniently? He admits he did 
 not, on account, as he tells us, of the *^ superior 
 duty he owed to the Queen's fame and honor in a 
 public proceeding." But hitherto, the Earls liberty 
 alone had been endangered ; now, his life is at stake. 
 Do not the manifold favors, the munificent benefac- 
 tions all arise in the generous mind of Bacon ? Does 
 he not waive all thought of interest and promotion 
 and worldly honor to devote himself wholly to the 
 sacred task of sa\ang his patron, benefactor, and 
 friend? Her Majesty's Counsel extraordinary ap- 
 peared in the place of the Solicitor-General, to reply 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 13 
 
 to Essex's defence ; he compared the accused first 
 to Cain, then to Pisistratus. The Earl made a 
 pathetic appeal to his judges; Bacon showed he 
 had not answered his objections, and compared him 
 to the Duke of Guise, the most odious comparison 
 he could have instituted. Essex was condemned ; 
 the Queen wavered in her resolution to execute 
 him; his friend's intercession might perhaps have 
 been able to save Essex from an ignominious death. 
 Did Bacon, in his turn, " spend all his power, might, 
 and amity?" The Queen's Counsel extraordinary 
 might have oftended his sovereign by his importu- 
 nity, and have been forgotten in the impending 
 vacancy of the office of Solicitor- General ! Essex 
 died on the scaffold. But the execution rendered 
 the Queen unpopular, and she was received with 
 mournful silence when she appeared in public. She 
 ordered a pamphlet to be written to justify the exe- 
 cution ; she made choice of Bacon as the writer; 
 the courtier did not decline the task, but published 
 A Declaration of the Practices and Treasons at- 
 tempted and committed by Robert, late Earle of Es- 
 sex and his Complices, against her Maiestie and her 
 Kingdoms. This faithless friend, to use the lan- 
 guage of Macaulay, ^' exerted his professional talents 
 to shed the Earl's blood, and his literary talents to 
 blacken the Earl's memory." 
 
 The memory of Essex suffered but little from the 
 attack of the pamphlet ; the base pamphleteer's mem- 
 ory is blackened forever, and to his fair name of "the 
 
14 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 wisest, brightest," has been appended the " meanest 
 of mankind." But let us cast a pall over this act, 
 this moral murder, perpetrated by the now degraded 
 orator, degraded philosopher, the now most degraded 
 of men. 
 
 Elizabeth died in 1601 ; and before the arrival 
 of James, in England, Bacon wrote him a pedantic 
 letter, probably to gratify the taste of the pedant 
 king; but he did not forget in it, "his late dear 
 sovereign ]Mistress — a princess happy in all things, 
 but most happy — in such a successor." 
 
 Bacon solicited the honor of knighthood, a dis- 
 tinction much lavished at this period. At the King's 
 coronation, he knelt down in company with above 
 three hundred gentlemen ; but " he rose Sir Fran- 
 cis." He sought the hand of a rich alderman's 
 daughter. Miss Barnham, who consented to become 
 Lady Bacon. 
 
 The Earl of Southampton, Shakspeare's generous 
 patron and friend, who had been convicted of high 
 treason in the late reign, now received the King's 
 pardon. This called to all men's minds the fate of 
 the unhappy Earl of Essex, and of his odiously un- 
 grateful accuser ; the latter unadvisedly published 
 the Sir Francis Bacon, his Apologie in certaine 
 imputations concerning the late Earle of Essex ; a 
 defence which, in the estimation of one of his bio- 
 graphers, Lord Campbell, has injured him more with 
 posterity than all the attacks of his enemies. 
 
 In the new Parliament, he represented the borough 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 15 
 
 of Ipswich ; he spoke frequently, and obtained the 
 good graces of the King by the support he gave 
 to James's favorite plan of a union of England and 
 Scotland; a measure by no means palatable to the 
 King's new subjects. 
 
 The object of all his hopes, the price, perhaps, 
 of his conduct to Essex, seemed in 1606 to be within 
 his reach ; but he was once more to be disappointed. 
 His old enemy. Sir Edward Coke, prevented the 
 vacancy. The following year, however, after long 
 and humiliating solicitation, he attained the office to 
 which he had so long aspired, and was appointed 
 Solicitor-General to the Crown. 
 
 Official advancement was now the object nearest 
 his heart, and he longed to be Attorney-General.^ 
 
 In 1613, by a master stroke of policy, he created 
 a vacancy for himself as Attorney-General, and man- 
 aged at the same time to disserve his old enemy, 
 Coke, by getting him preferred in rank, but at the 
 expense of considerable pecuniary loss. 
 
 After his new appointment, he was reelected to 
 his seat in the House of Commons; he had gained 
 
 1 The Attorney-General is the public prosecutor on behalf of the 
 Crown, where the state is actually and not nominally the prose- 
 cutor. He pleads also as a barrister in private causes, provided 
 they are not against the government. As he receives a fee for 
 every case in which the government is concerned, his emoluments 
 are considerable ; but he has no salary. His official position 
 secures to him the best practice at the bar. The salary was, in 
 Bacon's time, but 8U. 6s. 8cL per annum; but the situation yielded 
 him six thousand pounds yearly. 
 
16 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 so much popularity there, that the House admitted 
 him, althougli it resolved to exclude future Attor- 
 neys-General ; a resolution rescinded by later Par- 
 liaments. 
 
 The Attorney-General, as may be supposed, did 
 not lack zeal in his master's service and for his 
 master's prerogative. One case, in particular, was 
 atrocious. An aged clergyman, named Peacham, 
 was prosecuted for high treason for a sermon which 
 he had neither preached nor published ; the unfortu- 
 nate old man was apprehended, put to the torture 
 in presence of the Attorney-General, and as the latter 
 himself tells us, was examined "before torture, be- 
 tween torture, and after torture," although Bacon 
 must have been fully aware that the laws of Eng- 
 land did not sanction torture to extort confession. 
 Bacon tampered with the judges, and obtained a 
 conviction ; but the government durst not carry the 
 sentence into execution. Peacham languished in 
 prison till the ensuing year, when Providence res- 
 cued him from the hands of human justice. 
 
 In 1616, Bacon was offered the formal promise 
 of the Chancellorship, or an actual appointment as 
 Privy Councillor ; he was too prudent not to prefer 
 an appointment to a promise, and he was accord- 
 ingly nominated to the functions of member of the 
 Privy Council. His present leisure enabled him to 
 prosecute vigorously his Novum Organum, but he 
 turned aside to occupy himself with a proposition 
 for the amendment of the laws of England, on which 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 17 
 
 Lord Campbell, assuredly the most competent of 
 judges, passes a high encomium. 
 
 At length, in 1617, Sir Francis Bacon attained 
 the end of the ambition of his life, he became Lord 
 Keeper of the Seals, with the functions, though not 
 the title, of Lord High Chancellor of England. His 
 promotion to this dignity gave general satisfaction ; 
 his own university, Cambridge, congratulated him ; 
 Oxford imitated the example ; the world expected 
 a perfect judge, formed from his own model in his 
 Essay of Judicature. He took his seat in the Court 
 of Chancery with the utmost pomp and parade. 
 
 The Lord Keeper now endeavored to "feed fat 
 the ancient grudge" he bore Coke. He deprived 
 him of the office of Chief Justice, and erased his 
 name from the list of privy councillors. Coke im- 
 agined a plan of raising his falling fortunes; he 
 projected a marriage between his daughter by his 
 second wife, a very rich heiress, and Sir John Vil- 
 liers, the brother of Buckingham, the King's favorite. 
 Bacon was alarmed, wrote to the King, and used 
 expressions of disparagement towards the favorite, 
 his new patron, to whom he was indebted for the 
 Seals he held. The King and his minion were 
 equally indignant ; and they did not conceal from 
 him their resentment. On the return of the court. 
 Bacon hastened to the residence of Buckingham ; 
 being denied admittance, he waited two whole days 
 in the ante-chamber with the Great Seal of England 
 in his hand. When at length he obtained access, 
 
 2 
 
18 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 the Lord Keeper threw himself and the Great Seal 
 on the ground, kissed the favorite's feet, and vowed 
 never to rise till he was forgiven ! It must after 
 this have been difficult indeed for him to rise aorain 
 in the world's esteem or his own. 
 
 Bacon was made to purchase at a dear price his 
 reinstatement in the good graces of Buckingham. 
 The favorite constantly wrote to the judge in behalf 
 of one of the parties, and in the end, says Lord 
 Campbell, intimated that he was to dictate the de- 
 cree. !N'or did Bacon once remonstrate against this 
 unwarrantable interference on the part of the man 
 to whom he had himself recommended "by no means 
 to interpose himself, either by word or letter in any 
 cause depending on any court of justice. " The Lord 
 Keeper received soon after, in 1618, the reward of 
 his ''many faithful services" by the higher title of 
 Lord High Chancellor of England, and by the peer- 
 age with the name of Baron of Verulam. 
 
 The new ^Minister of Justice lent himself with his 
 wonted complaisance to a most outrageous act of 
 injustice, which Macaulay stigmatizes as a " das- 
 tardly murder," that of the execution of Sir Walter 
 Raleigh, under a sentence pronounced sixteen years 
 before; Sir Walter having been in the interval in- 
 vested with the high command of Admiral of the 
 fleet. Such an act it was the imperative duty of 
 the first magistrate of the realm not to promote, but 
 to resist to the full extent of his power; and the 
 Chancellor alone could issue the warrant for the 
 execution ! 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 19 
 
 In 1620, he published what is usually considered 
 his greatest work, his Novum Orgawum (New In- 
 strument or Method), which forms the second part 
 of the Instauratio Magna (Great Restoration of the 
 Sciences). This work had occupied Bacon's leisure 
 for nearly thirty years. Such was the care he be- 
 stowed on it, that Rawley, his chaplain and biogra- 
 pher, states that he had seen about twelve autograph 
 copies of it, corrected and improved until it assumed 
 the shape in which it appeared. Previous to the 
 publication of the Novum Organum, says the illus- 
 trious Sir John Herschel, "natural philosophy, in 
 any legitimate and extensive sense of the word, could 
 hardly be said to exist." ^ 
 
 It cannot be expected that a work destined com- 
 pletely to change the state of science, we had almost 
 said of nature, should not be assailed by that preju- 
 dice which is ever ready to raise its loud but unmean- 
 ing voice against whatever is new, how great or good 
 soever it may be. Bacon's doctrine was accused of 
 being calculated to produce " dangerous revolutions," 
 to "subvert governments and the authority of re- 
 ligion." Some called on the present age and pos- 
 terity to rise high in their resentment against "the 
 Bacon-faced generation," for so were the experiment- 
 alists termed. The old cry of irreligion, nay, even 
 of atheism, was raised against the man who had 
 said : " I would rather believe all the fables in the 
 Legend, and the Talmud, and the Alcoran, than that 
 
 1 Preliminary Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy. 
 
20 NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON. 
 
 this universal frame is without a mind." ^ But Bacon 
 had to encounter the prejudices even of the learned. 
 Cuffe, the Earl of Essex's secretary, a man celebrated 
 for his attainments, said of the Instauratio Magna, 
 " a fool could not have written such a book, and a 
 wise man would not." King James said, it was 
 "like the peace of God, that surpasseth all under- 
 standing." And even Harvey, the discoverer of the 
 circulation of the blood, said to Aubrey : " Bacon is 
 no great philosopher; he writes philosophy like a 
 Lord Chancellor." Rawley, his secretary and his 
 biographer, laments, some years after his friend's 
 death, that " his fame is greater and sounds louder 
 in foreign parts abroad than at home in his own 
 nation ; thereby verifying that divine sentence : A 
 prophet is not without honor, save in his own coun- 
 try and in his own house." Bacon was for some 
 time without honor " in his own country and in his 
 own house." But truth on this, as on all other 
 occasions, triumphs in the end. Bacon's assailants 
 are forgotten ; Bacon will be remembered with grati- 
 tude and veneration forever. 
 
 He was again, in 1621, promoted in the peerage 
 to be Viscount Saint-Albans ; his patent particularly 
 celebrating his "integrity in the administration of 
 justice." 
 
 In this same year the Parliament assembled. The 
 House of Commons first voted the subsidies de- 
 manded by the Crown, and next proceeded, as was 
 
 1 Essay xvi. 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 21 
 
 usual in those times, to the redress of grievances. 
 A committee of the House was appointed to inquire 
 into "the abuses of Courts of Justice." A report 
 of this committee charged the Lord Chancellor with 
 corruption, and specified two cases ; in the first of 
 which Aubrey, a suitor in his court, stated that he 
 had presented the Lord Chancellor with a hundred 
 pounds; and Egerton, another suitor in his court, 
 with four hundred pounds in addition to a former 
 piece of plate of the value of fifty pounds ; in both 
 cases decisions had been given against the parties 
 whose presents had been received. (Lord Campbell 
 asserts that in the case of Egerton both parties had 
 made the Chancellor presents.)^ His enemies, it is 
 said, estimated his illicit gains at a hundred thou- 
 sand pounds ; a statement which, it is more than 
 probable, is greatly exaggerated.^ " I never had," 
 said Bacon in his defence, " bribe or reward in my 
 eye or thought when I pronounced sentence or 
 order." This is an acknowledgment of the fact, 
 and perhaps an aggravation of the offence. He 
 
 1 Decisions being given against the parties is no proof of un- 
 corruptness ; it is always the party who loses his suit that com- 
 plains ; the gainer receives the price of his bribe, and is silent. 
 
 2 The exactions of his servants appear to have been very great ; 
 their indulgence in every kind of extravagance, and the lavish 
 proCuseness of his own expenses, were the principal causes of his 
 ruin. Mallet relates that one day, during the investigation into 
 his conduct, the Chancellor passed through a room where several 
 of his servants were sitting ; as they arose from tlieir seats to greet 
 him, "Sit down, my masters," exclaimed he, " your rise hath been 
 my fall." 
 
22 NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 
 
 then addressed ^' an humble submission " to the 
 House, a kind of general admission, in which he 
 invoked as a plea of excuse vitia temporis. 
 
 How widely different from this is his own lan- 
 guage ! It is fair justice to appeal from the judge 
 to the tribunal of the philosopher and moralist ; it 
 is appealing from Philip drunk to Philip sober; 
 unhappily it is likewise 
 
 to have the engineer 
 Hoist with his own petar. 
 
 He says, in his Essay of Great Place : " For cor- 
 ruption : do not only bind thine own hands, or thy 
 servant's hands from taking, but bind the hands of 
 suitors from offering. For integrity used doth the 
 one ; but integrity professed, and with a manifest 
 detestation of bribery, doth the other; and avoid 
 not only the fault, but the suspicion." ^ He says 
 again, in the same Essay: "Set it down to thyself, 
 as well to create good precedents as to follow 
 them." 
 
 But the allegation that it was a custom of the 
 times requires examination. It was a custom of 
 the times in reality to make presents to superiors. 
 Queen Elizabeth received them as New Year's gifts 
 from functionaries of all ranks, from her prime min- 
 ister down to Charles Smith, the dust-man (see note 
 1, page 7), and this custom probably continued under 
 her successor, and may have been applied to other 
 high functionaries, but it does not appear to have 
 
 1 Essay xi. 
 
NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 23 
 
 been in legitimate use in the courts of judicature. 
 Coke, himself Chief Justice, was Bacon's principal 
 accuser; and, although an enemy, he has been said 
 to have conducted himself with moderation and pro- 
 priety on this occasion only. Lord Campbell, Chief 
 Justice of the Court of Queen's Bench, and author 
 of the Lives of the Chancellors and Chief Justices of 
 England^ repels the plea, as inadmissible. It cannot 
 be denied that if Bacon extended the practice to the 
 courts of justice, he has heaped coals of fire on 
 his head; for applied to his own case personally it 
 would be sufficiently odious ; but what odium would 
 not that man deserve who should systematize, nay, 
 legitimize a practice that must inevitably poison the 
 stream of justice at its fountain-head ! What execra- 
 tion could be too great, if that man were the most 
 intelligent, the wisest of his century, one of the most 
 dignified in rank in the land, clad in spotless ermine, 
 the emblem of purity, in short, the Minister of Justice ! 
 The Lords resolved that Bacon should be called 
 upon to put in a particular answer to each of the 
 special charges preferred against him. The formal 
 articles with proofs in support were communicated 
 to him. The House received the "confession and 
 humble submission of me, the Lord Chancellor." 
 In this document, Bacon acknowledges himself to 
 be guilty of corruption ; and in reply to each special 
 charge admits in every instance the receipt of money 
 or valuable things from the suitors in his court ; but 
 alleging in some cases that it was after judgment, 
 
24 NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 
 
 or as New Year's gifts, a custom of the times, or for 
 prior services. A committee of nine temporal and 
 three spiritual lords was appointed to ascertain 
 whether it was he who had subscribed this docu- 
 ment. The committee repaired to his residence, 
 were received in the hall where he had been accus- 
 tomed to sit as judge, and merely asked him if the 
 signature affixed to the paper they exhibited to him 
 was his. He passionately exclaimed: "My lords, 
 it is my act, my hand, my heart. I beseech your 
 lordships to be merciful to a broken reed." The 
 committee withdrew, overwhelmed with grief at the 
 sight of such greatness so fallen. 
 
 Four commissioners dispatched by the King de- 
 manded the Great Seal of the Chancellor, confined 
 to his bed by sickness and sorrow and want of sus- 
 tenance; for he refused to take any food. He hid 
 his face in his hand, and delivered up that Great 
 Seal for the attainment of which he "had sullied 
 his integrity, had resigned his independence, had 
 violated the most sacred obligations of friendship 
 and gratitude, had flattered the worthless, had per- 
 secuted the innocent, had tampered with judges, 
 had tortured prisoners, had plundered suitors, had 
 wasted on paltry intrigues all the powers of the 
 most exquisitely constructed intellect that has ever 
 been bestowed on any of the children of men." ^ 
 
 All this he did to be Lord High Chancellor of 
 England ; and, had he not been the unworthy min- 
 
 1 Macaulay's Essays. 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 25 
 
 ister of James, he might have been, to use the 
 beautiful language of Hallam, "the high-priest of 
 nature." 
 
 On the 3d of May, he was unanimously declared 
 to be guilty, and he was sentenced to a fine of forty 
 thousand pounds, to be imprisoned in the Tower 
 during the King's pleasure, to be incapable of hold- 
 ing any public office, and of sitting in Parliament 
 or of coming within the verge of the court. ^ Such 
 was the sentence pronounced on the man whom 
 three months before the King delighted to honor for 
 " his integrity in the administration of justice." 
 
 The fatal verdict affected his health so materially 
 that the judgment could not receive immediate exe- 
 cution; he could not be conveyed to the Tower 
 until the 31st of May; the following day he was 
 liberated. He repaired to the house of Sir John 
 Vaughan, who held a situation in the prince's house- 
 hold.2 He wished to retire to his own residence at 
 York House; but this was refused. He was or- 
 dered to proceed to his seat at Gorhambury, whence 
 he was not to remove, and where he remained, though 
 very reluctantly, till the ensuing spring. 
 
 The heavy fine was remitted. But as he had 
 
 1 He was not, as has been erroneously supposed, stripped of his 
 titles of nobility ; this was proposed ; but it was negatived by the 
 majority formed by means of the bishops, 
 
 2 The Prince of Wales, afterwards Charles the First, was before 
 he ascended the throne the patron of Bacon, who said of him in 
 his will, '* my most gracious sovereign, who ever when he was prince 
 was my patron." 
 
26 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 lived in great pomp, he had economized naught from 
 his legitimate or ill-gotten gains. As he was now 
 insolvent, a pension of twelve hundred pounds a year 
 was bestowed on him ; from his estate and other 
 revenues he derived thirteen hundred pounds per 
 annum more. On the l/th of October, his remain- 
 ing penalties were remitted. It cannot but strike 
 the reader as a most remarkable circumstance that, 
 ^vithin eighteen months of the condemnation, all the 
 penalties were successively remitted. Would this 
 induce the belief that he was but the scape-goat of 
 the court, that the condemnation was purely polit- 
 ical ? It is, we believe, to be explained ostensibly 
 by the advanced age of Bacon, but really by the 
 circumstance that the King's favorite, Buckingham, 
 was an accomplice. 
 
 Bacon discovered, alas ! when it was too late, that 
 the talent God had given him he had " misspent in 
 things for which he was least fit ; " or as Thomson 
 has beautifully expressed it : ^ — 
 
 Hapless in his choice, 
 Unfit to stand the civil storm of state, 
 And through the smooth barbarity of courts. 
 With firm, but pliant virtue, forward still 
 To urge his course ; him for the studious shade 
 Kind Nature form'd ; deep, comprehensive, clear, 
 Exact, and elegant ; in one rich soul, 
 Plato, the Stagyrite and Tully join'd. 
 The great deliverer he ! 
 
 It is gratifying to turn from the melancholy scenes 
 exhibited by the political life of Bacon, to behold him 
 
 1 The Seasons. 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 27 
 
 in his study in the deep search of truth ; no contrast 
 is more striking than that between the chancellor 
 and the philosopher, or, as Macaulay has well termed 
 it, ^' Bacon seeking for truth, and Bacon seeking for 
 the Seals — Bacon in speculation, and Bacon in ac- 
 tion." From amidst clouds and darkness we emerge 
 into the full blaze and splendor of midday light. 
 
 We now find Bacon wholly devoting himself to 
 the pursuits for which nature adapted him, and from 
 which no extent of occupation could entirely detach 
 him. The author redeemed the man; in the phi- 
 losopher and the poet there was no weakness, no 
 corruption. 
 
 Nothing is here for tears ; nothing to wail 
 
 Or knock the breast ; no weakness, no contempt, 
 
 Dispraise or blame, nothing bnt well and fair. 
 
 Here the writer yielded not to vitia temporis ; 
 but combated them with might and main, with heart 
 and soul. 
 
 In 1623, he published the Life of Henrij VI L 
 In a letter addressed to the Queen of Bohemia with 
 a copy, he says pathetically : "'Time was I had 
 honor without leisure, and now I have leisure with- 
 out honor." But his honor without leisure had 
 precipitated him into " bottomless perdition ; " his 
 leisure without honor retrieved his name, and raised 
 him again to an unattainable height. 
 
 In the following year, he printed his Latin trans- 
 lation of the Advancement of Learning, under the 
 title of De Dignitate et Augmentis Scientiarum, 
 
28 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 This was not, however, a mere translation ; for 
 he made in it omissions and alterations ; and ap- 
 pears to have added about one third new matter; 
 in short, he remodelled it. His work, replete with 
 poetry and beautiful imagery, was received with 
 applause throughout Europe. It was reprinted in 
 France in 1624, one year after its appearance in 
 England. It was immediately translated into French 
 and Italian, and was published in Holland, the 
 great book-mart of that time, in 1645, 1650, and 
 1662. 
 
 In 1624, he solicited of the King a remission of 
 the sentence, to the end, says he, " that blot of igno- 
 miny may be removed from me and from my mem- 
 ory with posterity." The King granted him a 
 full pardon. But he never more took his seat in 
 the House of Lords. When the new Parliament 
 met, after the accession of Charles the First, age, 
 infirmity, and tardy wisdom had extinguished the 
 ambition of Baron Verulam, Viscount St. Albans. 
 When the writ of summons to the Parliament reached 
 him, he exclaimed : " I have done with such vani- 
 ties ! " 
 
 But the philosopher pursued his labor of love. 
 He published new editions of his writings, and trans- 
 lated them into Latin, from the mistaken notion that 
 in that language alone could they be rescued from 
 oblivion. His crabbed latinity is now read but by 
 few, or even may be said to be nearly forgotten ; 
 while his noble, majestic English is read over the 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 29 
 
 whole British empire, on which the sun never sets, 
 is studied and admired throughout the old world 
 and the new, and it will be so by generations still 
 unborn; it will descend to posterity in company 
 with his contemporary, Shakspeare (whose name 
 he never mentions), and will endure as long as the 
 great and glorious language itself ; indeed, as he fore- 
 told of his Essays, it ^' will live as long as books last." 
 
 In the translation of liis works into Latin, he was 
 assisted by Rawley, his future biographer, and his 
 two friends, Ben Jonson, the poet, and Hobbes, the 
 philosopher. 
 
 He wrote for his " own recreation," amongst very 
 serious studies, a Collection of Apophthegms, New 
 and Old, said to have been dictated in one rainy 
 day, but probably the result of several " rainy days." 
 This contains many excellent jocular anecdotes, and 
 has been, perhaps, with too much indulgence, pro- 
 nounced by Macaulay to be the best jest-book in the 
 world. 
 
 He commenced a Digest of the Laws of England, 
 but he soon discontinued it, because it was " a work 
 of assistance, and that which he could not master by 
 his own forces and pen." James the First had not 
 sufficient elevation of mind to afford him the means 
 of securing the assistance he required. 
 
 He wrote his will with his own hand on the 19th 
 of December, 1625. He directs that he shall be 
 interred in St. Michael's Church, near St. Albans: 
 " There was my mother buried, and it is the parish 
 
30 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 church of my mansion-house at Gorhambury 
 
 For my name and memory, I leave it to men's 
 charitable speeches, and to foreign nations, and the 
 next ages." This supreme act of filial piety towards 
 his gifted mother is affecting. Let no "uncharita- 
 ble " word be uttered over his last solemn behest ; 
 foreign nations and all ages will not refuse a tribute 
 of homage to his genius ! Gassendi presents an 
 analysis of his labors, and pays a tribute of admira- 
 tion to their author ; Descartes has mentioned him 
 with encomium ; Malebranche quotes him as an au- 
 thority ; Puffendorff expressed admiration of him ; 
 the University of Oxford presented to him, after his 
 fall, an address, in which he is termed "a mighty 
 Hercules, who had by his own hand greatly ad- 
 vanced those pillars in the learned world which by 
 the rest of the woi-ld were supposed immovable." 
 Leibnitz ascribed to him the re\dval of true philo- 
 sophy ; Newton had studied him so closely that he 
 adopted even his phraseology ; Voltaire and D'x\lem- 
 bert have rendered him popular in France. The 
 modern philosophers of all Europe regard him rever- 
 entially as the father of experimental philosophy. 
 
 He attempted at this late period of his life a met- 
 rical translation into English of the Psalms of 
 David ; although his prose is full of poetry, his verse 
 has but little of the divine art. 
 
 He again declined to take his seat as a peer in 
 Charles's second Parliament ; but the last stage of 
 his life displayed more dignity and real greatness 
 
NOTICE OF PEANCIS BACON. 31 
 
 than the " prido, pomp, and circumstance " of his 
 high offices and honors. The public of England 
 and of "foreign nations" forgot the necessity of 
 " charitable speeches " and anticipated '^ the next 
 ages." The most distinguished foreigners repaired 
 to Gray's Inn to pay their respects to him. The 
 Marquis d'Effiat, who brought over to England the 
 Princess Henrietta Maria, the wife of Charles the 
 First, went to see him. Bacon, confined to his bed, 
 but unwilling to decline the visit, received him with 
 the curtains drawn. " You resemble the angels," 
 said the French minister to him, " we hear those 
 beings continually talked of; we believe them supe- 
 rior to mankind ; and we never have the consolation 
 to see them." 
 
 But in ill health and infirmity he continued his 
 studies and experiments ; as it occurred to him that 
 snow might preserve animal substances from putre- 
 faction as well as salt, he tried the experiment, and 
 stuffed a fowl with snow with his own hands. 
 " The great apostle of experimental philosophy was 
 destined to become its martyr ; " he took cold. From 
 his bed he dictated a letter to the Earl of Arundel, 
 to whose house he had been conveyed. " I was 
 likely to have had the fortune of Caius Plinius the 
 Elder, who lost his life by trying an experiment 
 about the burning of the Mount Vesuvius. For I 
 was also desirous to try an experiment or two touch- 
 ing the conservation and induration of bodies. As 
 for the experiment itself, it succeeded excellently 
 
32 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 well." He had, indeed, the fortune of Pliny the 
 Elder; for he never recovered from the effects of 
 his cold, which brought on fever and a complaint of 
 the chest ; and he expired on the 9th of xApril, 1626, 
 in the sixty-sixth year of his age. Thus died, a vic- 
 tim to his devotion to science, Francis Bacon, whose 
 noble death is an expiation of the errors of his life, 
 and who was, as has been justly observed, notwith- 
 standing all his faults, one of the greatest ornaments 
 and benefactors of the human race. 
 
 No account has been preserved of his funeral ; 
 but probably it was private. Sir Thomas Meautys, 
 his faithful secretary, erected at his own expense a 
 monument to Bacon's memory. Bacon is represented 
 sitting, reclining on his hand, and absorbed in medi- 
 tation. The effigy bears the inscription : sic sedebat. 
 
 The singular fact ought not to be omitted, that 
 notwithstanding the immense sums that had been 
 received by him, legitimately or otherwise, he died 
 insolvent. The fault of his life had been that he 
 never adapted his expenses to his income ; perhaps 
 even he never calculated them. To what irretrieva- 
 ble ruin did not this lead him? To disgrace and 
 dishonor, in the midst of his career ; to insolvency 
 at its end. His love of worldly grandeur was un- 
 controllable, or at least uncontrolled. "The virtue 
 of prosperity is temperance," says he himself; but 
 this virtue he did not possess. His stately bark 
 rode proudly over the waves, unmindful of the 
 rocks ; on' one of these, alas ! it split and foundered. 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 33 
 
 Bacon wms very prepossessing in his person ; he 
 was in stature above the middle size ; his forehead 
 was broad and high, of an intellectual appearance ; 
 his eye was lively and expressive ; and his counte- 
 nance bore early the marks of deep thought. 
 
 It miofht be mentioned here with instruction to 
 the reader, that few men were more impressed than 
 Bacon with the value of time, the most precious 
 element of life. He assiduously employed the small- 
 est portions of it ; considering justly that the days, 
 the hours, nay minutes of existence require the great- 
 est care at our hands ; the weeks, months, and years 
 have been wisely said to take care of themselves. 
 His chaplain, Rawley, remarks : " Nullum momentum 
 aut temporis segmentum perire et intercidere passus 
 est,'' he suffered no moment nor fragment of time to 
 pass away unprofitably. It is this circumstance that 
 explains to us the great things he accomplished even 
 in the most busy part of his life. 
 
 The whole of Bacon's biography has been admira- 
 bly recapitulated by Lord Campbell ^ in the following 
 paragraph : — ■ 
 
 *'We have seen him taught his alphabet by his mother; 
 patted on the head by Queen Ehzabeth; mocking the wor- 
 shippers of Aristotle at Cambridge; catching the first glimpses 
 of his great discoveries, and yet uncertain whether the light 
 was from heaven; associating with the learned and the gay 
 at the court of France; devoting himself to Bracton^ and 
 
 1 Lives of the Lord Chancellors and Keepers of the Great Seal of 
 England. 
 
 2 Bracton is one of the earliest writers of English law. He 
 
 3 
 
34 NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 
 
 the Year Books in Gray's Inn; throwing aoide the musty 
 folios of the law to write a moral Essay, to make an experi- 
 ment in natural philosophy, or to detect the fallacies w^hicli 
 had hitherto obstructed the progress of useful truth ; contented 
 for a time with taking ''all knowledge for his province;" 
 roused from these speculations hy the stings of vulgar ambi- 
 tion; plying all the arts of flattery to gain official advance- 
 ment by royal and courtly favor ; entering the House of 
 Commons, and displaying powers of oratory of which he had 
 been unconscious ; being seduced by the love of popular ap- 
 plause, for a brief space becoming a patriot ; making amends, 
 by defending all the worst excesses of prerogative ; publishing 
 to the world lucubrations on morals, which show the nicest 
 perception of what is honorable and beautiful as well as pru- 
 dent, in the conduct of life ; yet the son of a Lord Keeper, the 
 nephew of the prime minister, a Queen's counsel, with the first 
 practice at the bar, arrested for debt, and languishing in a 
 spunging-house ; tired with vain solicitations to his own kin- 
 dred for promotion, joining the party of their opponent, and 
 after experiencing the most generous kindness from the young 
 and chivalrous head of it, assisting to bring him to the scaf- 
 fold, and to blacken his memory ; seeking, by a mercenary 
 marriage to repair his broken fortunes ; on the accession of a 
 new sovereign oflfering up the most servile adulation to a 
 pedant whom he utterly despised ; infinitely gratified by being 
 permitted to kneel down, with three hundred others, to receive 
 the honor of knighthood; truckling to a worthless favorite 
 with the most slavish subserviency that he might be appointed 
 a law-officer of the Crown ; then giving the most admirable 
 advice for the compilation and emendation of the laws of 
 England, and helping to inflict torture on a poor parson whom 
 he wished to hang as a traitor for writing an unpublished and 
 
 flourished in the thirteenth century. The title of his work is De 
 Lccjihus et Consuetudinibus Anglice, first printed in 1569. 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 35 
 
 unpreached sermon; attracting the notice of all Europe by 
 his philosophical works, which established a new era in tlie 
 mode of investigating the phenomena both of matter and 
 mind ; basely intriguing m the meanwhile for further promo- 
 tion, and writing secret letters to his sovereign to disparage his 
 rivals ; riding proudly between the Lord High Treasurer and 
 Lord Privy Seal, preceded by his mace-bearer and purse- 
 bearer, and followed by a long line of nobles and judges, to 
 be installed in the office of Lord High Chancellor ; by and by, 
 settling with his servants the account of the bribes they had 
 received for him; a little embarrassed by being obliged, out 
 of decency, the case being so clear, to decide against the party 
 whose money he had pocketed, but stitling the misgivings of 
 conscience by the splendor and flattery which he now com- 
 manded ; struck to the earth by the discovery of his comip- 
 tion ; taking to his bed, and refusing sustenance ; confessing 
 the truth of the charges brought against him, and abjectly 
 imploring mercy; nobly rallying from his disgrace, and en- 
 gaging in new literary undertakings, which have added to the 
 splendor of his name; still exhibiting a touch of his ancient 
 vanity, and, in the midst of pecuniary embarrassment, refusing 
 to ' be stripijed of his feathers ; ' i inspired, nevertheless, with 
 all his youthful zeal for science, in conducting his last experi- 
 ment of 'stuffing a fowl with snow to preserve it,^ which 
 succeeded ' excellently \vell,' but brought him to his grave ; 
 and, as the closing act of a life so checkered, making his will, 
 whereby, conscious of the shame he had incurred among his 
 contemporaries, but impressed with a swelling conviction of 
 what he had achieved for mankind, he bequeathed his ' name 
 and memory to men's charitable speeches, to foreign nations, 
 and the next ages.' " 
 
 After this brilliant recapitulation of the principal 
 facts of Bacon's eventful hie, there remains the 
 
 1 The woods on his estate of Gorhambury. 
 
36 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 difficult task of examining his character as a writer 
 and philosopher; and then of presenting some ob- 
 servations on his principal works. As these sub- 
 jects have occupied the attention of the master minds 
 and most elegant writers of England, we shall un- 
 hesitatingly present the reader with the opinions 
 of these, the most competent judges in each special 
 department. 
 
 But first, let the philosopher speak for himself. 
 
 The end and aim of the writings of Bacou are 
 best described by himself, as these descriptions may 
 be gleaned fi*om his various works. He taught, to 
 use his own language, the means, not of the " ampli- 
 fication of the power of one man over his country, 
 nor of the amplification of the power of that coun- 
 try over other nations ; but the amplification of the 
 power and kingdom of mankind over the world." ^ 
 " A restitution of man to the sovereignty of nature." ^ 
 ^^ The enlarging the bounds of human empire to the 
 effecting of all things possible."^ From the enlarge- 
 ment of reason, he did not separate the grow^th of 
 virtue ; for lie thought that " truth and goodness 
 were one, difi'ering but as the seal and the print, 
 for truth prints goodness."* 
 
 The art which Bacon taught, has been well said 
 to be ^'the art of inventing arts." 
 
 The great qualities of his mind, as they are exhi- 
 bited in his works, have been well portrayed by the 
 
 1 Of the Interpretation of Nature. - Ibid. 
 
 3 New Atlantis. * Advancement of Learning. 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 37 
 
 pen of Sir James Mackintosh. We subjoin the 
 opinion of this elegant v^riter in his own words : 
 
 ''It is easy to describe his traiiscendaut merit in general 
 terms of commendation : for some of his great quaUties lie- 
 on the surface of his writings. But that in which he most 
 excelled all other men, was in the range and compass of his 
 intellectual view — the power of contemplating many and 
 distant objects together, without indistinctness or confusion — 
 which he himself has called the discursive or comprehensive 
 understanding. This wide-ranging intellect was illuminated 
 by the brightest Fancy that ever contented itself with the 
 office of only ministering to Reason : and from this singular 
 relation of the two grand faculties of man, it has resulted, 
 that his philosophy, though illustrated still more than adorned 
 by the utmost splendor of imagery, continues still subject to 
 the undivided supremacy of intellect. In the midst of all 
 the prodigality of an imagination which, had it been inde- 
 pendent, would have been poetical, his opinions remained 
 severely rational. 
 
 ''It is not so easy to conceive, or at least to describe, other 
 equally essential elements of his greatness, and conditions of 
 his success. He is probably a single instance of a mind 
 which, in philosophizing, alvA^ays reaches the point of eleva- 
 tion whence the whole prospect is commanded, w^ithout ever 
 rising to such a distance as to lose a distinct perception of 
 every part of it." ^ 
 
 Mr. Macaulay speaks of the following peculiarity 
 of Bacon's understanding : ^ — 
 
 " With great minuteness of observation he had an ampli- 
 tude of comprehension such as has never yet been vouch- 
 safed to any other human being. The small fine mind of 
 La Bruyere had not a more delicate tact than the large iutel- 
 
 1 Edinburgh Eeview. 2 Essays. 
 
38 NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 
 
 lect of Bacon. The '^ Essays" contain abundant proofs that 
 no nice feature of character, no peculiarity in the ordering 
 of a house, a garden, or a court-masque, could escape the 
 notice of one whose mind was capable of taking in the whole 
 world of knowledge. His understanding resembled the tent 
 which the fairy Paribanou gave to prince Ahmed. Fold it, 
 and it seemed a toy for the hand of the lady. Spread it, 
 and the armies of powerful sultans might repose beneath its 
 shade. 
 
 '' In keenness of observation he has been equalled, though, 
 perhaps, never surpassed. But the largeness of his mind 
 M^as all his own. The glance with which he surveyed the 
 intellectual universe, resembled that which the archangel, 
 from the golden threshold of heaven, darted down into the 
 new creation. 
 
 *' Koimd he surveyed and well might, where he stood 
 So high above the circling canopy 
 Of night's extended shade — from eastern point 
 Of Libra, to the fleecy star which bears 
 Andromeda far off Atlantic seas 
 Beyond the horizon." 
 
 Bacon's philosophy is, to use an expression of his 
 own, " the servant and interpreter of nature ; " he 
 cultivated it in the leisure left him by the assiduous 
 study and practice of the law and by the willing 
 duties of a courtier; it was rather the recreation 
 than the business of his life; "my business," said 
 he, " found rest in my contemplations ; " but his very 
 recreations rendered him, according to Leibnitz, the 
 father of experimental philosophy, and, according 
 to all, the originator of all its results, of all later 
 discoveries in chemistry and the arts, in short, of 
 all modern science and its applications. 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 39 
 
 Mr. Macaulay is of opinion that the two leading 
 principles of his philosophy are iitUlty and progress ; 
 that the ethics of his inductive method are to do 
 good, to do more and more good, to mankind. 
 
 Lord Campbell believes that a most perfect body of 
 ethics might be made out from the writings of Bacon. 
 
 The origin of his pliilosophy was the conviction 
 with which he was impressed of the insufficiency of 
 that of the ancients, or rather of that of Aristotle, 
 which reigned with almost undisputed sway through- 
 out Europe. He reverenced antiquity for its great 
 works, its great men ; but not because of its ancient- 
 ness; he deemed its decrees worthy of reverential 
 consideration, but did not think they admitted of no 
 appeal; he was not a bigot to antiquity or a con- 
 temner of modern times. He happily combated 
 that undue and blind submission to the authority of 
 ancient times for the mere reason that they are 
 older than our own, alleging truly that '^ antiquitas 
 SECULi JUTENTUS MUNDi, that our times are the 
 ancient times, when the world is ancient, and not 
 those which we account ancient, ordine retrogradoy 
 by a computation backward from ourselves." ^ 
 
 Throwing off, then, all allegiance to antiquity, he 
 appealed directly from Aristotle to nature, from 
 reasoning to experiment. 
 
 But let us invoke the testimony of an eminent 
 philosopher, Sir John Herschel: — 
 
 1 Advancement of Learnincf. 
 
40 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 ''B}' the discoveries of Copernicus, Kepler, and Galileo, 
 the errors of the Aristotelian philost»phy were effectually over- 
 turned on a plain appeal to the facts of nature ; hut it re- 
 mained to show, on broad and general principles, how and 
 why Aristotle was in the wrong ; to set in evidence the pecu- 
 liar weakness of his method of philosophizing, and to substi- 
 tute in its place a stronger and better. This important task 
 was executed by Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, who will 
 theref(M-e justly be looked upon in all future ages as the great 
 reformer of philosophy, though his own actual contributions 
 to the stock of physical truths were small, and his ideas of 
 particular points strongly tinctured with mistakes and errors, 
 which were the fault rather of the general want of physical 
 information of the age than of any narrowness of view on 
 his own part ; of this he was fully aware. It has been at- 
 tempted by some to lessen the merit of this great achieve- 
 ment, by showing that the inductive method had been 
 practised in many instances, both ancient and modern, by the 
 mere instinct of mankind; but it is not the introduction of in- 
 ductive reasoning, as a new and hitherto untried process, which 
 characterizes the Baconian philosophy, but his keen percep- 
 tion, and his broad and sjjirit-stirring, almost enthusiastic, 
 announcement of its paramount importance, as the alpha and 
 omega of science, as the grand and only chain for the linking 
 together of physical truths, and the eventual key to every dis- 
 covery and every application. Those who Avould deny him his 
 just glory on such grounds would refuse to Jenner or to Howard 
 their civic crowns, because a few farmers in a remote province 
 had, time out of mind, been acquainted with vaccination, or 
 philanthropists, in all ages, had occasionally visited the pris- 
 oner in his dungeon." 
 
 ''It is to our immortal countryman Bacon," says he, again, 
 " that we owe the broad announcement of this grand and 
 fertile principle; and the development of the idea, that the 
 whole of natural philosophy consists entirely of a series of 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 41 
 
 inductive generalizations, commencing with tlie most circum- 
 stantially stated particulars, and carried up to universal laws, 
 or axioms, which comprehend in their statements every sub- 
 ordinate degree of generality and of a corresponding series 
 of inverted reasoning from generals to particulars, by which 
 these axioms are traced hack into their remotest conse- 
 quences, and all particular propositions deduced from them, 
 as well those by whose immediate consideration we rose to 
 their discovery, as those of which we had no previous knowl- 
 edge. . . . 
 
 '' It would seem that a union of two qualities almost oppo- 
 site to each other — a going fortli of the thoughts in two 
 directions, and a sudden transfer of ideas from a remote sta- 
 tion in one to an equally distant one in the other — is required 
 to start the first idea of applying science. Among the Greeks, 
 this point was attained by Archimedes, but attained too late, 
 on the eve of that great eclipse of science which was destined 
 to continue for nearly eighteen centuries, till Galileo in Italy, 
 and Bacon in England, at (mce dispelled the darkness; the 
 one, by his inventions and discoveries ] the other, by the irre- 
 sistible force of his arguments and eloquence." ^ 
 
 His style is copious, comprehensive, and smooth ; 
 it does not flow with the softness of the purling rill, 
 but rather with the strength, fulness, and swelling of 
 a majestic river, and the rude harmony of the moun- 
 tain stream. His images are replete with poetry and 
 thought ; they always illustrate his subject. Hallam 
 is of opinion that the modern writer that comes near- 
 est to him is Burke. '^ He had," said Addison, " the 
 sound, distinct, comprehensive knowledge of Aris- 
 totle, with all the beautiful lights, graces, and embel- 
 
 1 Preliminary Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy. 
 
42 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 lishments of Cicero. One does not know which to 
 admire most in his writings, the strength of reason, 
 force of style, or brightness of imagination."^ 
 
 Bacon improved so much the melody, elegance, and 
 force of English prose, that we may apply to him 
 what was said of Augustus with regard to Rome : 
 lateritiam invenit, marmoream reliqidt ; he found it 
 brick, and he left it marble. Mr. Hallam's opinion 
 differs somewhat from this ; it is as follows : — 
 
 ''The style of Bacon has an idiosyncrasy wliich we might 
 expect from his genius. It can rarely indeed happen, and 
 only in men of secondary talents, that the language they use 
 is not, by its very choice and collocation, as well as its mean- 
 ing, the representative of an individuality that distinguishes 
 their turn of thought. Bacon is elaborate, sententious, often 
 witty, often metaphorical ; nothing could be spared ; his anal- 
 ogies are generally striking and novel ; his style is clear, pre- 
 cise, forcible ; yet there is some degree of stiffness about it, 
 and in mere language he is inferior to Ealeigh.'' ^ 
 
 It is a most remarkable characteristic of Bacon, 
 and one in which Burke resembled him, that his 
 imagination grew stronger with his increasing years, 
 and his style richer and softer. ^' The fruit came 
 first," says Mr. ^lacaulay, '' and remained till the 
 last ; tlie blossoms did not appear till late. In elo- 
 quence, in sweetness and variety of expression, and 
 in richness of illustration, his later writings are far 
 
 1 Tattler, No. 267. 
 
 2 Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the fifteenth, six- 
 teenth, and seventeenth centuries. 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 43 
 
 superior to those of his youth." His earliest Essays 
 have as much truth and cogent reasoning as his 
 latest; but these are far superior in grace and beauty. 
 A most striking illustration of this is afforded by one 
 of the last Essays, added a year before Bacon's death, 
 that of Adversity (Essay V.), than which naught can 
 be more graceful and beautiful. 
 
 The account of Bacon's works will necessarily be 
 very succinct, and, we fear, imperfect. We shall, 
 however, for each of them, call in the aid of the 
 most competent judges, whose award public opinion 
 will not reverse. 
 
 ESSAYS. 
 
 Bacon published his Essays in 1597. They were, 
 in the estimation of Mr. Hallam, the first in time 
 and in excellence of English writings on moral pru- 
 dence. Of the fifty-eight Essays, of which the work 
 is now composed, ten only appeared in the first 
 edition. But to these were added Religious Medi- 
 tations, Places of Perswasion and Dlsswasion, Seene 
 and alloived ; many of which were afterwards embod- 
 ied in the Essays. These Essays were : I. Of Studie; 
 2. Of Discourse ; 3. Of Ceremonies and Respects ; 4. 
 Of Followers and Friends ; 5. Of Sutors ; 6. Of Ex- 
 pence ; 7. Of Regiment of Health ; 8. Of Honor and 
 Reputation; 9. Of Faction; 10. Of ]N'egociating. In 
 the edition of 1612, " The Essaies of S"^ Francis Ba^ 
 con Knight, the King's Atturny Generall," were 
 increased to forty-one. 
 
44 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 The new Essays added are : I. Of Religion ; 2. Of 
 Death ; 3. Of Goodnesse, and Goodnesse of Nature ; 
 4. Of Cunning ; 5. Of Marriage and Single Life ; 6. Of 
 Parents and Children ; 7. Of ^''obility ; 8. Of Great 
 Place; 9. Of Empire; 10. Of Counsell ; 11. Of Dis- 
 patch; 12. Of Love; 13. Of Friendship; 14. Of 
 Atheism; 15. Of Superstition; 16. Of Wisedome 
 for a Man's selfe; 20. Of seeming wise; 21. Of 
 Riches ; 22. Of Ambition ; 23. Of Young Men and 
 Age ; 24. Of Beauty ; 25. Of Deformity ; 26. Of Na- 
 ture in Men ; 27. Of Custom and Education ; 28. 
 Of Fortune ; 35. Of Praise ; 36. Of Judicature ; 37. 
 of Vaine-Glory ; 38. Of Greatnesse of Kingdomes ; 
 39. Of the Publique ; 40. Of Warre and Peace. 
 
 These forty- one Essays were afterwards again aug- 
 mented to fifty-eight, with the new title of The Es- 
 saies or Covnsels, Civill and Morall ; they were 
 likcAvise improved by corrections, additions, and illus- 
 trations. By the peculiarity of Bacon, already no- 
 ticed, the later Essays rise in beauty and interest. 
 
 Bacon considered his Essays but as " the recreations 
 of his other studies." He has entitled them, in the 
 Latin translation, Sermones fideles, sive Interiora re- 
 rum. The idea of them, as has been already men- 
 tioned, Was suggested by those of Montaigne ; but 
 there is but little resemblance between the two pro- 
 ductions. Montaigne is natural, ingenuous, sportive. 
 Bacon's " Essays or Counsels, civil and moral,^^ " the 
 fragments of his conceits," as he styles them, are all 
 study, art, and gravity ; but the reflections in them 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 45 
 
 are true and profound. Montaigne confessedly 
 painted himself, declared tliat he was the matter 
 of his own book/ while with Bacon the man was 
 merged in the author and the philosopher, who pro- 
 pounded like Seneca, and somewhat in Seneca's style, 
 the maxims of practical wisdom, that, to use Bacon's 
 own language, '^come home to men's business and 
 bosoms," and clothed them in a garb, new, elegant, 
 and rich, hitherto unknown in England. But our 
 author, if we may judge by the matter and even 
 manner of his Essays, may have had in view, not 
 so much IMontaigne's Essais as Seneca's Letters to 
 LuciUus. The Essay of Death is obviously founded 
 on Seneca's Epistles on this subject. That he was 
 well acquainted with Seneca's Letters, is incontro- 
 vertible. He alludes to them thus in the dedication 
 to Prince Henry, in 1612 : " The word (Essays)," says 
 he, " is late, but the thing is ancient ; for Seneca's 
 Epistles to Lucilius, if you mark them well, are but 
 Essays, that is, dispersed meditations, though con- 
 veyed in tlie form of epistles." Bacon justly foretold 
 of his Essays that they " would live as long as books 
 last." 
 
 1 Montaigne says, in his author's address to the reader : — 
 " le veulx qu'oii m'y vcoye en ma fa<^on simple, naturellc ct ordi- 
 naire, sans estudc et artifice ; car c'est moi que je peinds." He says 
 again elsewhere : " le nay jias pliLS faict man livre, que mon livre 
 m'a faict; livre consuhstantiel a son aucteur, d'une occupation 
 propre, membre de ma vie, non d'une occiipation et fi.n tierce et 
 cstrangiere, comme touts aultres livres." (Livre ii. ch. xviii.) 
 
46 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 The following is the opinion of Dugald Stewart, 
 himself an eminent philosopher and elegant writer : 
 
 ''His Essays are the best known and most popular of all 
 his works. It is also one of those where the superiority of 
 his genius appears to the greatest advantage; the novelty 
 and depth of his reflections often receiving a strong relief from 
 triteness of the subject. It may be read from beginning to 
 end in a few hours ; and yet, after the twentieth perusal, one 
 seldom foils to remark in it something unobserved before. 
 This, indeed, is a characteristic of all Bacon's writings, and 
 only to be accounted for by the inexhaustible aliment they 
 furnish to our own thoughts, and the sympathetic activity 
 they impart to our torpid faculties." ^ 
 
 The reader will, perhaps, be rather gratified than 
 wearied with another appreciation of this valuable 
 production of our young moralist of twenty-six. It 
 is of no incompetent judge, — Mr. Hallam. 
 
 " The transcendent strength of Bacon's mind is visible in 
 the whole tenor of these Essays, unequal as they must be 
 from the very nature of such compositions. They are deeper 
 and more discriminating than any earlier, or almost any later 
 work in the English language, full of recondite observation, 
 long matured and carefully sifted. It is true that we might 
 wish for more vivacity and ease; Bacon, who had much wit, 
 had little gayety ; his Essays are consequently stiff and grave 
 where the subject might have been touched with a lively 
 hand ; thus it is in those on Gardens and on Building. The 
 sentences have sometimes too apophthegmatic a form and 
 want coherence ; the historical instances, though far less fre- 
 quent than with Montaigne, have a little the look of pedantry 
 to our eyes. But it is from this condensation, from this 
 
 1 Introduction to the Encycloptedia. 
 
NOTICE OF FKANCIS BACON. 47 
 
 gravity, that the work derives its peculiar impressiveness. 
 Few books are more quoted, and what is not always the case 
 with such books, we may add that few are more generally 
 read. In this respect they lead the van of our prose litera- 
 ture ; for no gentleman is ashamed of owning that he has not 
 read the Elizabethan writers; but it would be somewhat 
 derogatory to a man of the slightest claim to polite letters, 
 were he unacquainted with the Essays of Bacon. It is, 
 indeed, little worth while to read this or any other book for 
 reputation sake ; but very few in our language so well repay 
 the pains, or afford more nourishment to the thoughts. They 
 might be judiciously introduced, with a small number more, 
 into a sound method of education, one that should make 
 wisdom, rather than mere knowledge, its object, and might 
 become a text-book of examination in our schools."^ 
 
 ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING. 
 
 The Advancement of Learnhig was published m 
 1605. It has usually been considered that the whole 
 of Bacon's philosophy is contained in this work, ex- 
 cepting, however, the second book of the Novum Or- 
 ganiim. Of the Advancement of Learning he made 
 a Latin translation, under the title of De Dignitate 
 et Aiigmentis Scientiarum, which, however, contains 
 about one third of new matter and some slight inter- 
 polations ; a few omissions have been remarked 
 in it. 
 
 The Advancement of Learning is, as it were, 
 to use his own language, " a small globe of the 
 
 1 Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the fifteenth, 
 sixteenth, and seventeenth centuries. 
 
48 NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 
 
 intellectual world, as truly and faithfully as I could 
 discover with a note and description of those facts 
 which seem to me not constantly occupate or not 
 well converted by the labor of man. In which, if 
 I have in any point receded from that which is 
 commonly received, it hath been with a purpose of 
 proceeding in melins and not in aliud, a mind of 
 amendment and proficience, and not of change and 
 difference. For I could not be true and constant 
 to the argument I handle, if I were not willing to 
 go beyond others, but yet not more willing than to 
 have others go beyond me." 
 
 The Advancement of Learning is divided into 
 two parts ; the former of which is intended to re- 
 move prejudices against the search after truth, by 
 pointing out the causes which obstruct it ; in the 
 second, learning is divided into history, poetry, and 
 philosophy, according to the faculties of the mind 
 from which they emanate — memory, imagination, 
 and reason. Our author states the deficiencies he 
 observes in each. 
 
 All the peculiar qualities of his style are fully 
 developed in this noble monument of genius, one 
 of the finest in English, or perhaps any other lan- 
 guage ; it is full of deep thought, keen observation, 
 rich imagery, Attic wit, and apt illustration. Dugald 
 Stewart and Hallam have both expressed their just 
 admiration of the short paragraph on poesy; but, 
 with all due deference, we must consider that the 
 beautiful passage on the dignity and excellency of 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 49 
 
 knowledge is surpassed by none. Can aught excel 
 the noble comparison of the ship ? The reader shall 
 judge for himself. 
 
 '^ If the invention of the ship was thought so noble, which 
 carrieth riches and commodities from place to place, and conso- 
 ciateth the most remote regions in participation of their fruits ; 
 how much more are letters to be magnified, which, as ships, 
 pass through the vast seas of time, and mtike ages so distant 
 to participate of the wisdom, illuminations, and inventions, 
 the one of the other ? " 
 
 DE SAPIENTIA VETERUM. 
 
 The Wisdom of the Ancients, or rather, De sapi- 
 entia t^eterum (for it was written in Latin), is a short 
 treatise on the mythology of the ancients, by which 
 Bacon endeavors to discover and to show the physi- 
 cal, moral, and political meanings it concealed. If 
 the reader is not convinced that the ancients under- 
 stood by these fables all that Bacon discovers in 
 them, he must at least admit the probability of it, 
 and be impressed with the penetration of the author 
 and the variety and depth of his knowledge. 
 
 INSTAURATIO MAGNA. 
 
 The Instauratio Magna was published in 1620, 
 while Bacon was still chancellor. 
 
 In his dedication of it to James the First, in 1620, 
 in which he says he has been engaged in it nearly 
 thirty years, he pathetically remarks : " The reason 
 
 4 
 
50 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 why I have published it now, specially being im- 
 perfect, is, to speak plainly, because I number my 
 days, and would have it saved." His country and 
 the world participate in the opinion of the philoso- 
 pher, and would have deemed its loss one of the 
 greatest to mankind. 
 
 Such was the care with which it was composed, 
 that Bacon transcribed it twelve times with his own 
 hand. 
 
 It is divided into six parts. The first entitled 
 Partitiones Scientiarum, or the divisions of knowl- 
 edge possessed by mankind, in which the author 
 has noted the deficiencies and imperfections of each. 
 This he had already accomplished by his Advance- 
 ment of Learning, 
 
 Part 2 is the Novum Organum Scientiarum, or 
 new method of studying the sciences, a name proba^ 
 bly suggested by Aristotle's Organon (treatises on 
 Logic). He intended it to be "the science of a 
 better and more perfect use of reason in the inves- 
 tigation of things and of the true end of understand- 
 ing." This has been generally denominated the 
 inductive method, i. e. the experimental method, 
 from the j)rinciple of induction, or bringing together 
 facts and drawing from them general principles or 
 truths, by which the author proposes the advance- 
 ment of all kinds of knowledge. In this consists 
 preeminently the philosophy of Bacon. Not rea- 
 soning upon conjecture on the laws and properties 
 of nature, but, as Bacon quaintly terms it, "asking 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 51 
 
 questions of nature," that is, making experiments, 
 laboriously collecting facts first, and, after a suffi- 
 cient number has been brought together, then form- 
 ing systems or theories founded on them. 
 
 But this work is rather the summary of a more 
 extensive one he designed, the aphorisms of it being 
 rather, according to Hallam, "the heads or theses 
 of chapters." But some of these principles are of 
 paramount importance. An instance may be afforded 
 of this, extracted from the " Interpretation of N'ature, 
 and Man's dominion over it." It is the very first sen- 
 tence in the Novum Organum. " Man, the servant 
 and interpreter of nature, can only understand and 
 act in proportion as he observes and contemplates 
 the order of nature ; more, he can neither know nor 
 do." This, as has justly been observed, is undoubt- 
 edly the foundation of all our real knowledge. 
 
 The Novum Organum is so important, that we 
 deem it desirable to present some more detailed 
 accounts of it. 
 
 The body of the work is divided into two parts ; 
 the former of which is intended to serve as an 
 introduction to the other, a preparation of the mind 
 for receiving the doctrine. 
 
 Bacon begins by endeavoring to remove the pre- 
 judices and to obtain fair attention to his doctrine. 
 He compares philosoph}? to " a vast pyramid, which 
 ought to have the history of nature for its basis ; " 
 he likens those who strive to erect by the force 
 of abstract speculation to the giants of old, who, 
 
52 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 according to the poets, endeavored to throw Mount 
 Ossa upon Pelion, and Olympus upon Ossa. The 
 method of ^' anticipating nature," he denounces " as 
 rash, hasty, and unphilosophical ; " whereas, ^' in- 
 terpretations of nature, or real truths arrived at by 
 deduction, cannot so suddenly arrest the mind ; and 
 when the conclusion actually arrives, it may so 
 oppose prejudice, and appear so paradoxical as to 
 be in danger of not being received, notwithstanding 
 the evidence that supports it, like mysteries of faith." 
 
 Bacon first attacks the " Idols of the Mind," i. e. 
 the great sources of prejudice, then the different 
 false philosophical theories ; he afterwards proceeds 
 to show what are the characteristics of false sys- 
 tems, the causes of error in philosophy, and lastly 
 the grounds of hope regarding the advancement of 
 science. 
 
 He now aspires, to use his own language, " only 
 to sow the seeds of pure truth for posterity, and 
 not to be wanting in his assistance to the first 
 beginning of great undertakings." '^ Let the hu- 
 man race," says he further, "regain their dominion 
 over nature, which belongs to them by the bounty 
 of their Maker, and right reason and sound religion 
 will direct the use." 
 
 The second part of the Novum Organum may be 
 divided into three sections. The first is on the 
 discovery of forms, i. e. causes in nature. The 
 second section is composed of tables illustrative of 
 the inductive method, and the third and last is 
 
NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 53 
 
 styled the doctrine of instances, i. e. facts regarding 
 the discovery of causes. 
 
 Part the third of the Tnstauratio Magna was 
 to be a Natural History, as he termed it, or rather 
 a history of natural substances, in which the art of 
 man had been employed, which would have been 
 a history of universal nature. 
 
 Part 4, to be called S^ala intellectus, or Intellec- 
 tual Ladder, was intended to be, to use his own 
 words, "types and models which place before our 
 eyes the entire process of the mind in the discovery 
 of truth, selecting various and remarkable instances." 
 
 He had designed in the fifth part to give speci- 
 mens of the new philosophy ; a few fragments only 
 of this have been published. It was to be ^' the frag- 
 ment of interest till the principal could be raised." 
 
 The sixth and last part was " to display a perfect 
 system of philosophy deduced and confirmed by a 
 legitimate, sober, and exact inquiry according to the 
 method he had laid down and invented." "To 
 perfect this last part," says Bacon, "is above our 
 powers and beyond our hopes. ' 
 
 Let us return, however, for a moment to the 
 commencement, to remark that he concludes the 
 introduction by an eloquent prayer that his exer- 
 tions may be rendered effectual to the attainment 
 of truth and happiness. But he feels his own in- 
 ability, for "his days are numbered," to conduct 
 mankind to the hoped for goal. It was given to 
 him to point out the road to the promised land ; but, 
 
54 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 like Moses, after having descried it from afar, it 
 was denied him to enter the land to which he had 
 led the way. 
 
 LIFE OF HENRY VH. 
 
 The Life of Henry VIL, published in 1622, is, in 
 the opinion of Hallam, 'Hhe first instance in om- 
 language of the application of philosophy to rea- 
 soning on public events in the manner of the an- 
 cients and the Italians. Praise upon Henry is too 
 largely bestowed ; but it was in the nature of Bacon 
 to admire too much a crafty and selfish policy ; and 
 he thought also, no doubt, that so near an ancestor 
 of his own sovereign should not be treated with 
 severe impartiality." ^ 
 
 LETTERS. 
 
 His Letters published in his works are numerous ; 
 they are written in a stiff, ungraceful, formal style ; 
 but still, they frequently bear the impress of the 
 wTiter's greatness and genius. Fragments of them 
 have been frequently quoted in the course of this 
 notice ; they have, perhaps, best served to exhibit 
 more fully the man in all the relations of his public 
 and private life. 
 
 MISCELLANEOUS PAPERS. 
 
 Amongst his miscellaneous papers there was found 
 after his death a remarkable prayer, which Addison 
 
 1 Introduction to the Literature of Europe in the 15th, 16th, and 
 I7th centuries. 
 
NOTICE OF FEANCIS BACON. 55 
 
 deemed sufficiently beautiful to be published in the 
 Tatler^ for Christmas, 1710. We extract a pas- 
 sage or two, that may serve to illustrate Bacon's 
 position or his character. 
 
 '^ I have, though in a despised weed, procured the good of 
 all men. If any have been my enemies, I thought not of 
 them, neither hath the sun almost set upon my displeasure ; 
 hut I have been as a dove, free from superfluity of malicions- 
 ness." 
 
 '' Just are thy judgments upon me for my sins, which are 
 more in number than the sands of the sea, but have no pro- 
 portion to thy mercies ; for what are the sands of the sea f 
 Earth, heaven, and all these are nothing to thy mercies." 
 
 Addison observes of this prayer, that for elevation 
 of thought and greatness of expression, " it seems — 
 rather the devotion of an angel than a man." 
 
 In taking leave of the life and the works of the 
 greatest of philosophers, and alas ! the least of men, 
 we have endeavored to present a succinct but faithful 
 narrative — " his glory not extenuated wherein he 
 was Avorthy, nor his offences enforced, for which he 
 suffered" merited obloquy with his own contempo- 
 raries and all posterity. Our endeavor has been 
 
 Verba animi proferre et vitam impendere vero. 
 
 But his failings, great as they were, are forgotten 
 through his transcendent merit ; his faults injured 
 but few, and in his own time alone ; his genius has 
 benefited all mankind. The new direction he gave to 
 philosophy was the indirect cause of all the modern 
 
 1 No. 267. 
 
56 NOTICE OF FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 conquests of science over matter, or, as it were^ 
 over nature. What it has already accomplished, 
 and may yet effect for the whole human race, is 
 incalculable. Macaulay, the historian of England, 
 has been likewise the eloquent narrator of the pro- 
 gress, that owes its origin to the genius of Francis 
 Bacon. 
 
 " Ask a follower of Bacon," says Macaulay, '' what the 
 new philosophy, as it was called in the time of Charles the 
 Second, has efiected for mankind, and his answer is ready : 
 * It hath lengthened life ; it has mitigated pain ; it has extin- 
 guished diseases ; it has increased the fertility of the soil : 
 it has given new securities to the mariner; it has furnished 
 new arms to the wanior ; it has sjjanned great rivers and 
 estuaries with bridges of form unknown to our fathers ; it 
 has guided the thunderbolt innocuously from heaven to earth ; 
 it has liglited up the night witli the splendor of the day ; it 
 has extended the range of the human vision ; it has multiplied 
 the power of the human muscle ; it has accelerated motion ; it 
 has annihilated distance ; it has facilitated intercourse, corres- 
 pondence, all friendly offices, all dispatch of business ; it has 
 enabled man to descend to the depths of the sea, to soar into 
 the air, to penetrate securely into the noxious recesses of the 
 earth, to traverse the land on cars which whirl along without 
 horses, and the ocean in ships which sail against the wind. 
 These are but a part of its fruits, and of its first-fruits. For 
 it is a philosophy which never rests, which has never attained, 
 which is never perfect. Its law is progress. A point M^hich 
 yesterday was invisible is its goal to-day, and will be its 
 starting-post to-morrow.' " ^ 
 
 1 Essays. 
 
E S SAYS. 
 
 I. — OF TRUTH. 
 
 What is truth ? said jesting Pilate ; ^ and would 
 not stay for an answer. Certainly, there be that 
 delight in giddiness ; and count it a bondage to fix 
 a belief; affecting freewill in thinking as well as 
 in acting. And though the sects of philosophers of 
 that kind be gone, yet there remain certain dis- 
 coursing wits which are of the same veins, though 
 there be not so much blood in them as was in those 
 of the ancients. But it is not only the difficulty 
 and labor which men take in finding out of truth : 
 nor again, that, when it is found, it imposeth upon 
 men's thoughts, that doth bring lies in favor ; but 
 a natural though corrupt love of the lie itself. 
 One of the later schools^ of the Grecians examin- 
 
 1 He refers to the following passage in the Gospel of St. John, 
 xviii. 38: "Pilate saith unto him, What is truth? And when 
 he had said this, he went out again unto the Jews, and saith 
 unto them, I find in him no fault at all." 
 
 2 He probably refers to the "New Academy," a sect of Greek 
 philosophers, one of whose moot questions was, "What is 
 truth ? " Upon which they came to the unsatisfactory conclu- 
 sion, that mankind has no criterion by which to form a judg- 
 ment. 
 
58 ESSAYS. 
 
 eth the matter, and is at a stand to think what 
 should be in it that men should love lies ; where 
 neither they make for pleasure, as with poets ; nor 
 for advantage, as with the merchant, but for the 
 lie's sake. But I cannot tell ; this same truth is a 
 naked and open daylight, that doth not show the 
 masks, and mummeries, and triumphs of the world, 
 half so stately and daintily as candle-lights. Truth 
 may perhaps come to the price of a pearl, that 
 showeth best by day, but it will not rise to the 
 price of a diamond or carbuncle, that showeth best 
 in varied lights. A mixture of a lie doth ever add 
 pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that if there were 
 taken out of men's minds vain opinions, flattering 
 hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one would, 
 and the like, but it would leave the minds of a num- 
 ber of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy 
 and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves? 
 One of the fathers,^ in great severity, called poesy 
 " vinum dsemonum," ^ because it filleth the imagina- 
 tion, and yet it is but with the shadow of a lie. 
 But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, 
 but the lie that sinketh in, and settleth in it, that 
 doth the hurt, such as we spake of before. But 
 howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved 
 judgments and affections, yet truth, which only doth 
 judge itself, teacheth that the inquiry of truth, 
 
 1 Perhaps he was thinking of St. Angustine. — See Aiig. Con- 
 fess, i. 25, 26. 
 
 ^ "The wine of evil spirits." 
 
OF TRUTH. 59 
 
 which is the love-making, or wooing of it, tlie knowl- 
 edge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the 
 belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the 
 sovereign good of human nature. The first creature 
 of God, in tlie works of the days, was the light of 
 the sense ; ^ the last was the light of reason ; ^ and 
 his sabbath work, ever since, is the illumination of 
 his Spirit. First, he breathed light upon the face 
 of the matter, or chaos ; then he breathed light into 
 the face of man ; and still he breatheth and inspir- 
 eth light into the face of his chosen. The poet ^ 
 that beautified the sect,^ that was otherwise inferior 
 to the rest, saith yet excellently well : " It is a 
 
 1 Genesis i. 3: "And God said, Let there be light, and there 
 was light." 
 
 2 At the moment -when " The Lord God formed man out of 
 the dust of the ground, and breathed into his nostrils the breath 
 of life ; and man became a living soul." — Genesis ii. 7. 
 
 2 Lucretius, the Roman poet and Epicurean philosopher, is 
 alluded to. — Lucrct. ii. init. Comp. Adv. of Learning, i, 8, 5. 
 
 * He refers to the sect which followed the doctrines of Epicu- 
 rus. The life of Epicurus himself was pure and abstemious in 
 the extreme. One of his leading tenets was, that the aim of all 
 speculation should be to enable men to judge with certainty 
 what course is to be chosen, in order to secure health of body 
 and tranquillity of mind. The adoption, however, of the term 
 " pleasure," as denoting this object, has at all periods subjected 
 the Epicurean system to great reproach; whicli, in fact, is due 
 rather to the conduct of many who, for their own purposes, have 
 taken shelter under the system in name only, than to the tenets 
 themselves, which did not inculcate libertinism. Epicurus 
 admitted the existence of the Gods, but he deprived them of 
 the characteristics of Divinity, either as creators or preservers 
 of the world. 
 
60 ESSAYS. 
 
 pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to see ships 
 tossed upon the sea ; a pleasure to stand in the 
 window of a castle, and to see a battle, and the 
 adventures thereof below ; but no pleasure is com- 
 parable to the standing upon the vantage-ground 
 of truth" (a hill not to be commanded, and where 
 the air is always clear and serene), " and to see the 
 errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in 
 the vale below ; " ^ so always that this prospect be 
 with pity, and not with swelling or pride. Certainly 
 it is heaven upon earth, to have a man's mind move 
 in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the 
 poles of truth. 
 
 To pass from theological and philosophical truth 
 to the truth of civil business; it will be acknowl- 
 edged, even by those that practise it not, that clear 
 and round dealing is the honor of man's nature, 
 and that mixture of falsehood is like alloy in coin 
 
 1 Lord Bacon has either translated this passage of Lucretius 
 from memory or has purposely paraphrased it. The following 
 is the literal translation of the original: "'Tis a pleasant thing, 
 from the shore, to behold the dangers of another upon the mighty 
 ocean, when the winds are lashing the main ; not because it is a 
 grateful pleasure for any one to be in misery, but because it is 
 a pleasant thing to see those misfortunes from which 5'ou your- 
 self are free : 'tis also a pleasant thing to behold the mighty 
 contests of warfare, arrayed upon the plains, without a share in 
 the danger ; but nothing is there more delightful than to occupy 
 the elevated temples of the wise, well foitified by tranquil learn- 
 ing, whence you may be able to look down upon others, and see 
 them straying in every direction, and wandering in search of the 
 path of life." 
 
OF TRUTH. 61 
 
 of gold and silver, which may make the metal 
 work the better, but it embaseth it. For these 
 winding and crooked courses are the goings of the 
 serpent ; which goeth basely upon the belly, and 
 not upon the feet. There is no vice that doth so 
 cover a man with shame, as to be found false and 
 perfidious ; and therefore Montaigne ^ saith prettily, 
 when he inquired the reason why the word of the 
 lie should be such a disgrace, and such an odious 
 charge : saith he, " If it be well weighed, to say 
 that a man lieth, is as much as to say that he is 
 brave towards God and a coward towards men. 
 For a lie faces God, and shrinks from man ; " sure- 
 ly, the wickedness of falsehood and l^reach of faith 
 cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in that it 
 shall be the last peal to call the judgments of God 
 upon the generations of men : it being foretold, 
 that, when " Christ cometh," he shall not " find 
 faith upon the earth." ^ 
 
 1 Michael de Montaigne, the celebrated French Essayist. His 
 Essays embrace a variety of topics, which are treated in a 
 sprightly and entertaining manner, and are replete with remarks 
 indicative of strong native good sense. He died in 1592. The fol- 
 lowing quotation is from the second book of the Essays, c. 18 : " Ly- 
 ing is a disgraceful vice, and one that Plutarch, an ancient writer, 
 paints in most disgraceful colors, when he says that it is ' affording 
 testimony that one first despises God, and then fears men ; ' it is 
 not possible more happily to describe its horrible, disgusting, and 
 abandoned nature ; for, can we imagine anything more vile than 
 to be cowards with regard to men, and brave with regard to God ? " 
 
 2 St. Luke xviii. 8 : "Nevertheless, when the Son of man com- 
 eth, shall he find faith upon the earth ?" 
 
62 ESSAYS. 
 
 II. —OF DEATH.1 
 
 Men fear death as children fear to go in the dark ; 
 and as that natural fear in children is increased with 
 tales, so is the other. Certainly, the contemplation 
 of death, as the wages of sin, and passage to another 
 world, is holy and religious ; but the fear of it, as 
 a tribute due unto nature, is weak. Yet in religious 
 meditations there is sometimes mixture of vanity and 
 of superstition. You shall read in some of the friars' 
 books of mortification, that a man should think with 
 himself, what the pain is, if he have but his finger's 
 end pressed or tortured ; and thereby imagine what 
 the pains of death are, when the whole body is cor- 
 rupted 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 terret, 
 quam mors ipsa."^ Groans and convulsions, and a 
 discolored face, and friends weeping, and blacks ^ 
 and obsequies, and the like, show death terrible. 
 It is worthy the observing, that there is no passion 
 
 1 A portion of this Essay is borrowed from the writings of 
 Seneca. See his Letters to Litciliiis, B. iv. Ep. 24 and 82. 
 
 2 ** The array of the death-bed has more terrors than death 
 itself." This quotation is from Seneca. 
 
 ^ He probably alludes to the custom of hanging the room in 
 black where the body of the deceased lay, a practice much more 
 usual in Bacon's time than at the present day. 
 
OF DEATH. 63 
 
 ill tlie mind of man so weak, but it mates and mas- 
 ters the fear of death ; and therefore death is no 
 such terrible enemy when a man hath so many at- 
 tendants about him that can win the combat of him. 
 Revenge triumphs over death ; love slights it ; honor 
 aspireth to it ; grief flieth to it ; fear preoccupateth 
 it; nay, we read, after Otho the emperor had slain 
 himself, pity (which is the tenderest of affections), 
 provoked many to die out of mere compassion to 
 their sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers.^ 
 Nay, Seneca ^ adds niceness and satiety : " Cogita 
 quamdiu eadem feceris ; mori velle, non tan turn for- 
 tis, aut miser, sed etiam fastidiosus potest."^ A 
 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 ap- 
 proaches of death make : for they appear to be the 
 same men till the last instant. Augustus Csesar 
 died in a compliment : " Livia, conjugii nostri mem or, 
 vive et vale." * Tiberius in dissimulation, as Tacitus 
 saith of him, "Jam Tiberium vires et corpus, non 
 dissimulatio, deserebaut : "^ Vespasian in a jest, sitting 
 
 1 Tacit, Hist. ii. 49. 
 
 2 Ad Lucil. 77. 
 
 3 "Reflect how often you do the same things; a man may 
 wish to die, not only because either he is brave or wretched, but 
 even because he is surfeited with life." 
 
 * "Livia, mindful of our union, live on, and fare thee well." — 
 Suet. Aug. Fit. c. 100. 
 
 ^ "His bodily strength and vitality were now forsaking Tibe- 
 rius, but not his duplicity." — Ann. vi. 50. 
 
64 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 dis- 
 patch, '' Adeste, si quid mihi restat agendum," * and 
 the like. Certainly, the Stoics ^ bestowed too much 
 cost upon death, and by their great preparations 
 made it appear more fearful. Better, saith he, " qui 
 finem vitae extremum inter munera ponit 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. 
 He that dies in an earnest pursuit, is like one that 
 
 1 This was said as a reproof to liis flatterers, and in spirit is 
 not unlike the rebuke administered by Canute to his retinue. — 
 Suet. Vespas. Vit. c. 23. 
 
 2 " I am become a Divinity, I suppose." 
 
 3 " If it be for the advantage of the Roman people, strike." — 
 Tac. Hist. i. 41. 
 
 4 *'If aught remains to be done by me, dispatch. — Dio Cass. 
 76, ad Jin. 
 
 5 These were the followers of Zeno, a philosopher of Citium, 
 in Cyprus, who founded the Stoic school, or "School of the 
 Portico," at Athens. The basis of his doctrines was the duty of 
 making virtue the object of all our researches. According to 
 him, the pleasures of the mind were preferable to those of the 
 body, and his disciples were taught to view with indiff'erence 
 health or sickness, riches or poverty, pain or pleasure. 
 
 6 "Who reckons the close of his life among the boons of 
 nature." Lord Bacon here quotes from memory ; the passage 
 is in the tenth Satire of Juvenal, and runs thus : — 
 
 "Fortem posce animum, mortis terrore carentem. 
 Qui spatium vitae extremum inter munera ponat 
 Naturae " — 
 
 " Pray for strong resolve, void of the fear of death, that reckons 
 the closing period of life among the boons of nature." 
 
OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 65 
 
 is wounded in hot blood, who, for the time, scarce 
 feels the hurt ; and therefore a mind fixed and bent 
 upon somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolors 
 of death; but, above all, believe it, the sweetest 
 canticle is " Nunc dimittis," ^ when a man hath ob- 
 tained worthy ends and expectations. Death hath 
 this also, that it openeth the gate to good fame, and 
 extinguisheth envy : " Extinetus amabitur idem." ^ 
 
 III.— OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 
 
 Religion being the chief band of human society, 
 it is a happy thing when itself is well contained 
 within the true band of unity. The quarrels and 
 divisions about religion were evils unknown to the 
 heathen. The reason was, because the religion of 
 the heathen consisted rather in rites and ceremo- 
 nies, than in any constant belief; for you may im- 
 agine what kind of faith theirs was, when the chief 
 doctors and fathers of their church were the poets. 
 
 1 He alludes to the song of Simeon, to whom the Holy Ghost 
 had revealed, "that he should not see death before he had seen 
 the Lord's Christ." When he beheld the infant Jesus in the 
 temple, he took the child in his arms and burst forth into a song 
 of thanksgiving, commencing, " Lord, now lettest thou thy ser- 
 vant depart in peace, according to thy word, for mine eyes have 
 seen thy salvation." — St. Luke ii. 29. 
 
 2 "When dead, the same person shall be beloved. " — i7or. Ep. 
 IL 1, 14. 
 
 5 
 
66 ESSAYS. 
 
 But the true God hath this attribute, that he is a 
 jealous God ; and therefore his worship and religion 
 will endure no mixture nor partner. We shall there- 
 fore speak a few words concerning the unity of the 
 church; what are the fruits thereof; what the 
 bounds; and what the means. 
 
 The fruits of unity (next mito the well-pleasing 
 of God, which is all in all), are two; the one to- 
 wards 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 hu- 
 mor, 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 cometh to that pass that one 
 saith, "Ecce 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 con- 
 tinually to sound in men's ears, " nolite exire," " go 
 not out." The doctor of tlie Gentiles (the propriety 
 of whose vocation drew him to have a special care 
 of those without) saith : '^ If a heathen ^ come 
 
 1 "Behold, he is in the desert." — St. Matthew xxiv. 26. 
 
 2 "Behold, he is in the secret chambers." — lb. 
 
 3 He alludes to 1 Corinthians xiv. 23 : **If, therefore, the whole 
 church be come together into one place, and all s^jeak with 
 
OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 67 
 
 in, and hear you speak with several tongues, will 
 he not say that you are mad ? " and, certainly, it 
 is little better : when atheists and profane persons 
 do hear of so many discordant and contrary opinions 
 in religion, it doth avert them from the church, and 
 maketh them "to sit down in the chair of the 
 scorners." ^ It is but a light thing to be vouched 
 in so serious a matter, but yet it expresseth well the 
 deformity. There is a master of scoffing, that, in 
 his catalogue of books of a feigned library, sets down 
 this title of a book, "The Morris-Dance ^ of Here- 
 tics ; " for, indeed, every sect of them hath a diverse 
 posture, or cringe, by themselves, which cannot but 
 move derision in worldlings and depraved politicians, 
 who 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 
 
 tongues, and there come in those that are unlearned, or unbelievers, 
 will they not say that ye are mad ? " 
 
 1 Psalm i. 1 : " Blessed is the man that walketh not in the 
 counsel of the ungodly, nor standeth in the way of sinners, nor 
 sitteth in the seat of the scornful." 
 
 2 This dance, which was originally called the Morisco dance 
 is supposed to have been derived from the Moors of Spain ; the 
 dancers in earlier times blackening their faces to resemble Moors. 
 It was probably a corruption of the ancient Pyrrhic dance, which 
 was performed by men in armor, and which is mentioned as still 
 existing in Greece, in Byron's " Song of the Greek Captive :" — 
 
 *' You have the Pyrrhic dance as yet." 
 
 Attitude and gesture formed one of the characteristics of the dance. 
 It is still practised in some parts of England. — Rabelais, Pantag. 
 ii. 7. 
 
68 ESSAYS. 
 
 peace of the chiircli distilleth into peace of con- 
 science, and it turneth the labors of writing and 
 reading of controversies into treatises of mortifica- 
 tion and devotion. 
 
 Concerning the bounds of unity, the true placing 
 of them importeth exceedingly. There appear to 
 be two extremes; for to certain zealots all speech 
 of pacification is odious. "Is it peace, Jehu?" — 
 " What hast thou to do with peace ? turn thee be- 
 hind 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 they would 
 make an arbitrament 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, 
 
 1 2 Kings ix. 18. 
 
 2 He alludes to the words in Revelation, c. iii. v. 14, 15, 16: 
 " And unto the angel of the church of the Laodiceans write : These 
 things saith the Amen, the faithful and true Witness, the begin- 
 ning of the creation of God ; I know thy works, that thou art 
 neither cold nor hot. — I will spue thee out of my mouth. " Lao- 
 dicea was a city of Asia Minor. St. Paul established the church 
 there which is here referred to. 
 
 3 St. Matthew xii. 30. 
 
OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 69 
 
 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 rend- 
 ing God's church by two kinds of controversies ; the 
 one is, when the matter of the point controverted 
 is too small and light, not worth the heat and strife 
 about it, kindled only by contradiction; for, as it 
 is noted by one of the fathers, " Christ's coat indeed 
 had no seam, but the church's vesture was of divers 
 colors ; " 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 some- 
 times hear ignorant men differ, and know well within 
 himself, that those which so differ mean one thing, 
 and yet they themselves would never agree ; and if 
 it come so to pass in that distance of judgment, 
 which is between man and man, shall we not think 
 that God above, that knows the heart, doth not dis- 
 cern that frail men, in some of their contradictions, 
 
 1 "In the garment there may be many colors, but let there be 
 no rendinir of it." 
 
70 ESSAYS. 
 
 intend the same thing, and accepteth of both ? The 
 nature of such controversies is excellently expressed 
 by St. Paul, in the warning and precept that he 
 giveth concerning the same : " Devita profanas vo- 
 cum 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 effect govern- 
 eth the meaning. There be also two false peaces, or 
 unities ; the one, when the peace is grounded but 
 upon an implicit ignorance ; for all colors 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 Nebuchad- 
 nezzar's image ; ^ they may cleave, but they will not 
 incorporate. 
 
 Concerning the means of procuring unity, men 
 must beware that, in the procuring or muniting of 
 religious unity, they do not dissolve and deface the 
 laws of charity and of human society. There be 
 two swords amongst Christians, the spiritual and 
 temporal, and both have their due office and place 
 in the maintenance of religion ; but we may noi; 
 take up the third sword, which is Mahomet's sword,^ 
 
 1 " Avoid profane and vain babblings, and oppositions of science, 
 falsely so called." — 1 Tim. vi. 20. 
 
 2 He alludes to the dream of Nebuchadnezzar, significant of the 
 limited duration of his kingdom. — See Daniel ii. 33, 41. 
 
 3 Mahomet proselytized by giving to the nations which he con- 
 quered, the option of the Koran or the sword. 
 
OF UNITY IN RELIGION. 71 
 
 or like unto it ; that is, to propagate religion by- 
 wars, or, by sanguinary persecutions, to force con- 
 sciences ; except it be in cases of overt scandal, 
 blasphemy, or intermixture of practice against the 
 state ; much less to nourish seditions, to authorize 
 conspiracies and rebellions, to put the sword into 
 the people's hands, and the like, tending to the sub- 
 version of all government, which is the ordinance of 
 God ; for this is but to dash the first table against 
 the second, and so to consider men as Christians, as 
 we forget that they are men. Lucretius the poet, 
 when he beheld the act of Agamemnon, that could 
 endure the sacrificing of his own daughter, ex- 
 claimed ; — 
 
 *' Tan turn religio potuit suadere malorura." ^ 
 
 What would he have said, if he had known of 
 the massacre in France,^ or the powder treason of 
 England ? ^ He would have been seven times more 
 epicure and atheist than he was ; for as the tempo- 
 
 1 " To deeds so dreadful could religion prompt." The poet refers 
 to the sacrifice by Agamemnon, the Grecian leader, of his daughter 
 Iphigenia, with the -view of appeasing the wrath of Diana. — 
 Lucrct. i. 95. 
 
 2 He alludes to the massacre of the Huguenots, or Protestants, 
 in France, which took place on St. Bartholomew's day, August 
 24, 1572, by the order of Charles IX. and his mother, Catherine 
 de Medici. On this occasion about 60,000 persons perished, 
 including the Admiral De Coligny, one of the most virtuous 
 men that France possessed, and the main stay of the Protestant 
 cause. 
 
 3 More generally known as *' The Gunpowder Plot." 
 
72 ESSAYS. 
 
 ral 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 unto 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 exe- 
 crable actions of murdering princes, butchery of 
 people, and subversion of states and governments? 
 Surely, this is to bring down the Holy Ghost, in- 
 stead of the likeness of a dove, in the shape of a 
 vulture or raven ; and to set out of the bark of a 
 Christian church a flag of a bark of pirates and 
 assassins; therefore, it is most necessary that the 
 church by doctrine and decree, princes by their 
 sword, and all learnings, both Christian and moral, 
 as by their ^lercury rod,^ do damn and send to hell 
 forever those facts and opinions tending to the sup- 
 port of the same, as hath been already in good 
 part done. Surely, in counsels concerning religion, 
 that counsel of the apostle would be prefixed : " Ira 
 hominis non implet justitiam Dei ; " ^ and it was 
 
 1 Isa. xiv. 14. 
 
 2 Allusion is made to the ** caducens," with which Mercury, 
 the messenger of the Gods, summoned the souls of the departed 
 to the infernal regions. 
 
 3 " The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God." 
 — James i. 20. 
 
OF REVENGE. 73 
 
 a notable observation of a wise father, and no 
 less ingenuously confessed, that those which held 
 and persuaded pressure of consciences, wxre com- 
 monly interested therein themselves for their own 
 ends. 
 
 iy._OF REVENGE. 
 
 Revenge 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 doth but 
 offend the law, but the revenge of that wrong, put- 
 teth the law out of office. Certainly, in taking 
 revenge, a man is but even with his enemy, but in 
 passing it over, he is superior; for it is a prince's 
 part to pardon; and Solomon, I am sure, saith, '' It 
 is the glory of a man to pass by an offence." That 
 which is past is gone and irrevocable, and wise men 
 have enough to do with things present and to come ; 
 therefore they do but trifle with themselves that 
 labor in past matters. There is no man doth a 
 wrong for the wrong's sake, but thereby to purchase 
 himself profit, or pleasure, or honor, 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 briar, which prick and 
 scratch, because they can do no other. The most 
 tolerable sort of revenge is for those wrongs which 
 
74 ESSAYS. 
 
 there is no law to remedy ; but then, let a man take 
 heed the revenge be such as there is no law to 
 punish, else a man's enemy is still beforehand, and 
 it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge, 
 are desirous the party should know whence it com- 
 eth. This is the more generous ; for the delight 
 seemeth to be not so much in doing the hurt as 
 in making the party repent; but base and crafty 
 cowards are like the arrow that flieth in the dark. 
 Cosmus, Duke of Florence,^ had a desperate saying 
 against perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those 
 wrongs were unpardonable. " You shall read," saith 
 he, " that we are commanded to forgive our enemies ; 
 but you never read that we are commanded to for- 
 give 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 ? " ^ and so of friends in a proportion. This is 
 certain, that a man that studieth revenge keeps his 
 own wounds green, which otherwise would heal 
 and do well. Public revenges^ are for the most 
 part fortunate ; as that for the death of Caesar ; * 
 
 1 He alludes to Cosmo de Medici, or Cosmo I., chief of the Re- 
 public of Florence, the encourager of literature and the fine arts. 
 
 2 Job ii. 10. — "Shall we receive good at the hand of God, and 
 shall we not receive evil ? " 
 
 ^ By "public revenges," he means punishment awarded by the 
 state with the sanction of the laws. 
 
 * He alludes to the retribution dealt by Augustus and Anthony 
 to the murderers of Julius Csesar. It is related by ancient his- 
 torians, as a singular fact, that not one of them died a natural 
 death. 
 
OF ADVERSITY. 75 
 
 for the death of Pertinax ; for the death of Henry 
 the Third 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. 
 
 v. — OF ADVERSITY. 
 
 It was a high speech of Seneca (after the man- 
 ner 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, adversarum 
 mirabilia.") ^ Certainly, if miracles be the com- 
 mand over nature, they appear most in adversity. 
 It is yet a higher speech of his than the other 
 (much too high for a heathen), " It is true greatness 
 to have in one the frailty of a man, and the security 
 of a God." ("Vere magnum habere fragilitatem 
 hominis securitatem Dei.") ^ This would have done 
 
 ^ Henry III, of France was assassinated in 1599, by Jacques 
 Clement, a Jacobin monk, in the frenzy of fanaticism. Although 
 Clement justly suffered punishment, the end of this bloodthirsty 
 and bigoted tyrant may be justly deemed a retribution dealt by 
 the hand of an offended Providence ; so truly does the Poet 
 
 say : — 
 
 "neque enim lex aequior ulla 
 Quani necis artifices arte perire sua." 
 
 2 Sen. Ad Lucil. Q6. 3 jbid. 53. 
 
76 ESSAYS. 
 
 better in poesy, where transcendencies are more 
 allowed, and the poets, indeed, have been busy with 
 it ; for it is, in effect, the thing which is figured in that 
 strange fiction of the ancient poets,^ which 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 represented), sailed the length of 
 the great ocean in an earthen pot or pitcher," lively 
 describing Christian 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 temperance, 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 New, which carrieth 
 the greater benediction, and the clearer revelation 
 of God's favor. 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 
 
 1 Stesicliorus, Apollodorus, and others. Lord Bacon makes a 
 similar reference to this myth in his treatise "On the Wisdom of 
 the Ancients." "It is added with great elegance, to console and 
 strengthen the minds of men, that this mighty hero (Hercules) 
 sailed in a cup or ' urceus,' in order that they may not too much 
 fear and allege the naiTowness of their nature and its frailty ; 
 as if it were not capable of such fortitude and constancy ; of which 
 very thing Seneca argued well, when he said, ' It is a great thing 
 to have at the same time the frailty of a man, and the security 
 of a God. ' " 
 
 2 Funereal airs. It must be remembered that many of the 
 Psalms of David were written by him when persecuted by Saul, 
 
OF ADVERSITY. 77 
 
 Holy Ghost hath labored more in describing the 
 afflictions of Job than the felicities of Solomon. 
 Prosperity is not without many fears and distastes ; 
 and adversity 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 pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the 
 eye. Certainly, virtue is like precious odors, most 
 fragrant when they are incensed, or crushed; for 
 prosperity doth best discover vice, but adversity 
 doth best discover virtue.^ 
 
 as also in the tribulation caused by the wicked conduct of his 
 son Absalom. Some of them, too, though called "The Psalms of 
 David," were really composed by the Jews in their captivity at 
 Babylon ; as, for instance, the 137th Psalm, which so beautifully 
 commences, " By the waters of Babylon there we sat down." 
 One of them is supposed to be the composition of Moses. 
 
 1 This fine passage, beginning at "Prosperity is the blessing," 
 which was not published till 1625, twenty-eight years after the 
 first Essays, has been quoted by Macaulay, with considerable 
 justice, as a proof that the writer's fancy did not decay with the 
 advance of old age, and that his style in his later years became 
 richer and softer. The learned critic contrasts this passage with 
 the terse style of the Essay of Studies (Essay 50), which was 
 published in 1597. 
 
78 ESSAYS. 
 
 VI. — OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION. 
 
 Dissimulation is but a faint kind of policy, or 
 wisdom ; for it asketh 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 great dissemblers. 
 
 Tacitus saith, " Livia sorted well with the arts of 
 her husband, and dissimulation of her son ; ^ attri- 
 buting arts or policy to Augustus, and dissimulation 
 to Tiberius : " and again, when ^lucianus encour- 
 ageth Vespasian to take arms against Vitellius, he 
 saith, "We rise not against the piercing judgment 
 of Augustus, nor the extreme caution or closeness 
 of Tiberius." ^ These properties 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 dis- 
 cern what things are to be laid open, and what to 
 be secreted, and what to be showed at half-lights, and 
 to whom and when (which indeed are arts of state, 
 and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them), to 
 him a habit of dissimulation is a hinderance and a 
 poorness. But if a man cannot obtain to that judg- 
 ment, 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 
 
 1 Tac. Ann. v. 1. ^ Xac. Hist. ii. 76. 
 
OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION. 79 
 
 that cannot well see. Certainly, the ablest men that 
 ever were, have had all an openness and frankness 
 of dealing, and a name of certainty and veracity : 
 but then they were like horses well managed, for 
 they could tell passing well when to stop or turn ; 
 and at such times, when they thought tlie case indeed 
 required dissimulation, if then they used it, it came 
 to pass that the former opinion spread abroad, of 
 their good faith and clearness of dealing, made them 
 almost invisible. 
 
 There be three degrees of this hiding and veiling 
 of a man's self: the first, closeness, reservation, and 
 secrecy ; when a man leaveth himself without obser- 
 vation, or without hold to be taken, what he is : 
 the second, dissimulation in the negative ; when a 
 man lets fall signs and arguments, that he is not 
 that he is : and the third, simulation in the affirma- 
 tive ; when a man industriously 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 confessions ; for who will open himself 
 to a blab or a babbler? But if a man be thought 
 secret, it inviteth discovery, as the more close air 
 sucketh in the more open; and, as in confession, 
 the revealing is not for worldly use, but for the ease 
 of a man's heart, so secret men come to the knowl- 
 edge 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 
 
80 ESSAYS. 
 
 (to say truth), nakedness is uncomely, as well in 
 mind as body ; and it addetli 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 discovery 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 followeth 
 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 cunning to suffer a man to 
 keep an indifferent carriage between both, and to 
 be secret, without swaying the balance on either side. 
 They will so beset a man with questions, and draw 
 him on, and pick it out of him, that without an 
 absurd silence, he must show an inclination one 
 way ; or if he do not, they will gather as much by 
 his silence as by his speech. As for equivocations, 
 or oraculous si)eeches, 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 
 
 1 A word now unused, signifying the " traits," or '* features." 
 
OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION. 81 
 
 false profession, that I hold more culpable, and less 
 politic, except it be in great and rare matters ; and, 
 therefore, a general custom of simulation (which is 
 this last degree) is a vice rising either of a natural 
 falseness, or fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some 
 main faults ; which because a man must needs dis- 
 guise, it maketh him practise simulation in other 
 thino^s, lest his hand should be out of use. 
 
 The advantages of simulation and dissimulation 
 are three : first, to lay asleep opposition, and to sur- 
 prise ; for, where a man's intentions are published, 
 it is an alarum 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 adverse ; but will (fair) let him go on, 
 and turn their freedom of speech to freedom of 
 thought ; and therefore it is a good shrewd proverb 
 of the Spaniard, " Tell a lie, and find a troth ; " ^ 
 as if there were no way of discovery but by simu- 
 lation. There be also three disadvantages to set it 
 even ; the first, that simulation and dissimulation 
 commonly carry with them a show of fearfulness, 
 which, in any business, doth spoil the feathers of 
 round flying up to the mark ; the second, that it 
 puzzleth and perplexeth the conceits of many, that, 
 perhaps, would otherwise cooperate with him, and 
 
 1 A truth. —A, L. II. xxiii, 14. 
 6 
 
82 ESSAYS. . 
 
 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 opin- 
 ion, secrecy in habit, dissimulation in seasonable use^ 
 and a power to feign if there be no remedy. 
 
 YIL — OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 
 
 The joys of parents are secret, and so are their 
 griefs and fears ; they cannot utter the one, nor they 
 will not utter the other. Children sweeten labors, 
 but they make misfortunes more bitter ; they in- 
 crease the cares of life, but they mitigate the re- 
 membrance of death. The perpetuity by generation 
 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 pro- 
 ceeded from childless men, which have sought to 
 express the images of their minds where those of 
 their bodies have failed ; so the care of posterity is 
 most in them that have no posterity. They that are 
 the first raisers of their houses are most indulgent 
 towards their children, beholding them as the con- 
 tinuance, not only of their kind, but of their work ; 
 and so both children and creatures. 
 
 The difference in affection of parents towards their 
 several children is many times unequal, and some- 
 
OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN. 83 
 
 times unworthy, especially in the mother ; as Solo- 
 mon saith, "A wise son rejoiceth the father, but 
 an ungracious son shames the mother."^ A man 
 shall see, where there is a house fall 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 al- 
 lowance towards their children, is a harmful error, 
 makes them base, acquaints them with shifts, makes 
 them sort with mean company, and makes them 
 surfeit more when they come to plenty ; and, there- 
 fore, the proofs is best when men keep their au- 
 thority towards their children, but not their purse. 
 Men have a foolish manner (both parents, and 
 schoolmasters, and servants), in creating and breed- 
 ing an emulation between brothers during childhood, 
 which many times sorteth^ to discord when they 
 are men, and disturbeth families,^ The Italians 
 
 1 Proverbs x. 1 : "A wise son maketh a glad father, but a 
 foolish son is the heaviness of his mother." 
 ^ Petted — spoiled. 
 
 3 This word seems here to mean "a plan," or "method," as 
 proved by its results. . J ^i 
 
 4 Ends in. "4 
 
 ^ There is considerable justice in this remark. Children should 
 be taught to do what is right for its own sake, and because it is 
 their duty to do so, and not that they may have the selfish 
 gratification of obtaining the reward which their companions have 
 failed to secure, and of being led to think themselves superior to 
 their companions. "When launched upon the world, emulation 
 will be quite sufficiently forced upon them by stern necessity. 
 
84 ESSAYS. 
 
 make little difference 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 sometimes 
 resembleth an uncle or a kinsman more than his 
 own parent, as the blood happens. Let parents 
 choose betimes the vocations and courses they mean 
 their children should take, for then they are most 
 flexible ; and let them not too much apply them- 
 selves to the disposition of their children, as thinking 
 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, " Opti- 
 mum elige, suave et facile illud fiiciet consuetudo." ^ 
 — Younger brothers are commonly fortunate, but 
 seldom or never where the elder are disinherited. 
 
 VIII. — OF MARRIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE. 
 
 He that hath wife and c^^ijdren hath given hos- 
 tages to fortune ; for they are impediments to great 
 enterprises, either of virtue or mischief. Certainly 
 the best works, and of greatest merit for the public, 
 have proceeded from the unmarried or childless men, 
 
 1 "Select that course of life which is the most advantageous ; 
 habit will soon render it pleasant and easily endured." 
 
OF MARKIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE. 85 
 
 which, both in affection 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 impertinences ; 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, per- 
 haps they have heard some talk, '^Such an 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, 
 for they are light to run away, and almost all fugi- 
 tives 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 indiffer- 
 ent for judges and magistrates ; for if they be facile 
 
 1 His meaning is, that if clergymen have the expenses of a 
 family to support, they will hardly find means for the exercise 
 of henevolence toward their parishioners. 
 
86 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 amongst 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 inquisitors), because their tenderness is not 
 so oft called upon. Grave natures, led by custom, 
 and therefore constant, are commonly loving hus- 
 bands, as was said of Ulysses, " Yetulam suam prae- 
 tulit 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 chas- 
 tity and obedience, in the wife, if she think her 
 husband wise, which she will never do if she find 
 him jealous. Wives are young men's mistresses, 
 companions for middle 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 
 
 1 " He preferred his aged wife Penelope to immortality." This 
 was when Ulysses was entreated by the goddess Calypso to give 
 up all thoughts of returning to Ithaca, and to remain with her 
 in the enjoyment of immortality. — Plut. Gryll. 1. 
 
 2 " May have a pretext," or " excuse." 
 
OF ENVY. 87 
 
 man not at all." ^ It is often seen that bad hus- 
 bands have very good wives ; whether it be that it 
 raiseth the price of their husbands' 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 choosing, against their friends' 
 consent, for then they will be sure to make good 
 their own folly. 
 
 IX. — OF ENVY. 
 
 There be none of the affections which have been 
 noted to fascinate or bewitch, but love and envy. 
 They both have vehement wishes ; they frame them- 
 selves readily into imaginations and suggestions, and 
 they come easily into the eye, especially upon the 
 presence of the objects which are the points that 
 conduce to fascination, if any such thing there be. 
 We see, likewise, the Scripture calleth envy an evil 
 eye ; ^ and the astrologers call the evil influences of 
 
 1 Thales, Vide Diog. Laert. i. 26. 
 
 2 So prevalent in ancient times was the notion of the injurions 
 effects of the eye of envy, that, in common parlance, the Romans 
 generally used the word " prerfiscini" — " v^'ithout risk of enchant- 
 ment," or ''fascination," when they spoke in high terms of them- 
 selves. They supposed that they thereby averted the effects of 
 enchantment produced by the evil eye of any envious person who 
 might at that moment possibly be looking upon them. Lord 
 Bacon probably here alludes to St. Mark vii. 21, 22: "Out ot 
 the heart of men proceedeth — deceit, lasciviousness, an evil eye." 
 Solomon also speaks of the evil eye, Prov. xxiii. 6, and xxviii. 22. 
 
88 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 
 percussion of an envious eye doth most hurt, are, 
 when the party envied is beheld in glory or triumph, 
 for that sets an edge upon envy ; and besides, at 
 such times, the spirits of the person envied do come 
 forth most into the outward parts, and so meet the 
 blow. 
 
 But, leaving these curiosities (though not un- 
 worthy to be thought on in fit place), we will handle 
 what persons are apt to envy others ; what persons 
 are most subject to be envied themselves ; and what 
 is the difference between public and private envy. 
 
 A man that hath no virtue in himself, ever envi- 
 eth Adrtue in others ; for men's minds will either 
 feed upon their own good, or upon others' evil ; and 
 who wanteth the one will prey upon the other ; and 
 whoso is out of hope to attain to another's virtue, 
 will seek to come at even hand ^ by depressing 
 another's fortune. 
 
 A man that is busy and inquisitive, is commonly 
 envious ; for to know 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 find much matter for envy ; for 
 
 1 To be even with him. 
 
OF ENVY. 89 
 
 envy is a gadding passion, 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 to- 
 wards new men when they rise, for the distance is 
 altered; and it is like a deceit of the eye, that 
 when others come on they think themselves go back. 
 
 Deformed persons and eunuchs, and old men and 
 bastards, are envious; for he tliat cannot possibly 
 mend his own case, will do what he can to impair 
 another's; except these defects light upon a very 
 brave and heroical nature, which thinketh to make 
 his natural wants part of his honor; in that it 
 should be said, ''That a eunuch, or a lame man, 
 did such great matters," affecting the honor of a 
 miracle ; as it was in Narses ^ the eunuch, and Ages- 
 ilaus and Tamerlane,^ that were lame men. 
 
 1 "There is no person a busybody, but what he is ill-natured 
 too." This passage is from the Stichus of Plautus. 
 
 ^ Narses superseded Belisarius in the command of the armies 
 of Italy, by the orders of the Emperor Justinian. He defeated 
 Totila, the king of the Goths (who had taken Rome), in a decisive 
 engagement, in which the latter was slain. He governed Italy with 
 consummate ability for thirteen years, when he was ungratefully 
 recalled by Justin the Second, the successor of Justinian. 
 
 3 Tamerlane, or Timour, was a native of Samarcand, of which 
 territory he was elected emperor. He overran Persia, Georgia, 
 Hindostan, and captured Bajazet, the valiant Sultan of the Turks, 
 at the battle of Angora, 1402, whom he is said to have inclosed 
 in a cage of iron. His conquests extended from the Irtish and 
 Volga to the Persian Gulf, and from the Ganges to the Grecian 
 Archipelago. While preparing for the invasion of China, he died, 
 in the 70th year of his age, A. D. 1405. He was tall and corpulent 
 
90 ESSAYS. 
 
 The same is the case of men that rise after calami- 
 ties and misfortunes ; for they are as men fallen out 
 with the times, and think other men's harms a re- 
 demption of their own sufferings. 
 
 They that desire to excel in too many matters, out 
 of levity and vainglory, are ever envious, for they 
 cannot want work ; it being impossible but many, in 
 some one of those things, should surpass them ; 
 which was the character of Adrian the emperor, that 
 mortally envied poets and painters, and artificers in 
 works, wherein he had a vein to excel.^ 
 
 Lastly, near kinsfolk and fellows in office, and 
 those that have been bred together, are more apt 
 to envy their equals when they are raised; for it 
 doth upbraid unto them their own fortunes, and 
 pointeth at them, and cometh oftener into their 
 remembrance, and incurreth likewise more into the 
 note ^ of others ; and envy ever redoubleth from 
 speech and fame. Cain's envy was the more vile 
 and malignant towards his brother Abel, because 
 when his sacrifice was better accepted, there was 
 nobody to look on. Thus much for those that are 
 apt to en\7. 
 
 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 
 
 in person, but was maimed in one hand, and lame on the right 
 side. 
 
 ^ Spartian Vit. Adrian, 15. 
 
 2 Comes under the observation. 
 
OF ENVY. 91 
 
 the payment of a debt, but rewards and liberality 
 rather. Again, envy is ever joined with the com- 
 paring of a man's self; and where there is no 
 comparison, no envy ; and therefore kings are not 
 envied but by kings. Nevertheless, it is to be noted, 
 that unworthy persons are most envied at their 
 first coming in, and afterwards overcome it better ; 
 whereas, contrariwise, persons of worth and merit 
 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 that 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 so much added to their 
 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 honor great 
 travels, cares, or perils, are less subject to envy; for 
 men think that they earn their honors 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 
 
 1 "By a leap," i. e. over the heads of others. 
 
 2 " How vast the evils we endure." 
 
92 ESSAYS. 
 
 it so, but only to abate tlie edge of envy ; but this 
 is to be understood of business that is laid upon 
 men, and not such as they call unto themselves ; 
 for nothing increaseth envy more than an unneces- 
 sary and ambitious engrossing of business ; and noth- 
 ing doth extinguish envy more than for a great 
 person to preserve all other inferior officers in their 
 full rights and preeminences of their places; for, 
 by that means, there be so many screens between 
 him and envy. 
 
 Above all, those are most subject to en^^, 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 out- 
 ward pomp, or by triumphing over all opposition 
 or competition. Whereas wise men will rather do 
 sacrifice to envy, in suffering themselves, sometimes 
 of purpose, to be crossed and overborne in things 
 that do not much concern them. Notwithstanding, 
 so much is true, that the carriage of greatness in a 
 plain and open manner (so it be without arrogancy 
 and vainglory), 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 seem- 
 eth 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 
 
OF ENVY. 93 
 
 the lot (as thej call it), and to lay it upon another ; 
 for which purpose, tlie wiser sort of great persons 
 bring in ever upon the stage somebody upon whom 
 to derive the envy that would come upon them- 
 selves ; 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 public envy, whereas in private there is 
 none ; for public envy is as an ostracism,^ that 
 eclipseth men when they grow too great ; and there- 
 fore it is a bridle also to great ones, to keep them 
 with in bounds. 
 
 This envy, being in the Latin word invidia,^ goeth 
 in the modern languages by the name of discontent- 
 ment, of which 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 odor; and therefore there 
 is little won by intermingling of plausible actions; 
 for that doth argue but a weakness and fear of envy, 
 
 1 He probably alludes to the custom of the Athenians, who 
 frequently ostracized or banished by vote their jmblic men, lest 
 they should become too powerful. 
 
 2 From in and video, — "to look upon;" with reference to 
 the so-called "evil eye" of the envious. 
 
94 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 beat chiefly upon 
 principal officers or ministers, rather than upon 
 kings and estates themselves. But this is a sure 
 rule, that if the envy upon the minister be great, 
 when the cause of it in him is small ; or if the en\^ 
 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 affec- 
 tion of envy, that, of all other affections, it is the 
 most importune and continual ; for of other affec- 
 tions there is occasion given but now and then ; 
 and therefore it was well said, " Invidia festos dies 
 non agit : " ^ for it is ever Avorking 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 envious man, that soweth tares 
 amongst the wheat by night ; " ^ as it always Com- 
 eth to pass that envy worketh subtilely, and in the 
 dark, and to the prejudice of good things, such as 
 is the wheat. 
 
 1 "Envy keeps no holidays." 2 gee St. Matthew xiii. 25. 
 
OF LOVE. 95 
 
 X, — OF LOVE. 
 
 The stage is more beholding^ to love than the 
 life of man ; for as to the stage, love is ever matter 
 of comedies, and now and then of tragedies ; but in 
 life it doth much mischief, sometimes like a Siren, 
 sometimes like a Fury. You may observe, that, 
 amongst all the great and worthy persons (whereof 
 the memory remaineth, either ancient or recent), 
 there is not one that hath been transported to the 
 mad degree of love, which shows that great spirits 
 and great business do keep out this weak passion. 
 You must except, nevertheless, Marcus Antonius, 
 the half partner of the empire of Rome, and Ap- 
 pius Claudius,'^ the decemvir and lawgiver ; whereof 
 the former was indeed a voluptuous man, and inor- 
 dinate, 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, 
 
 1 Beholden. 
 
 2 He iniquitoiisly attempted to obtain possession of the person 
 of Virginia, who was killed by lier father Virginius, to prevent 
 her from falling a victim to his lust. This circumstance caused 
 the fall of the Decemviri at Rome, who had been employed in 
 framing the code of laws afterwards known as **The Laws of the 
 Twelve Tables." They narrowly escaped being burned alive by 
 the infuriated populace. 
 
 3 "We are a sufficient theme for contemplation, the one for 
 
96 ESSAYS. 
 
 made for the contemplation of heaven and all noble 
 objects, should do nothing but kneel before a little 
 idol, and make himself subject, though not of the 
 mouth (as beasts are) yet of the eye, which was 
 given him for higher purposes. It is a strange 
 thing to note the excess of this passion, and how it 
 braves the 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, the 
 lover is more ; for there was never proud man 
 thought so absurdly well of himself as the lover 
 doth of the person loved ; and therefore it was well 
 said, " That it is impossible to love and to be wise." ^ 
 Neither doth this weakness appear to others only, 
 and not to the party loved, but to the loved most of 
 all, except the love be reciprocal ; for it is a true 
 rule, that love is ever rewarded, either with the 
 
 the other." — Sen. Upist. Mor. 1. 7. (A. L. 1. iii. 6.) Pope seems, 
 notwithstanding this censure of Bacon, to have been of the same 
 opinion with Epicurus : — 
 
 "Know then thyself, presume not God to scan, 
 The proper study for mankind is man." 
 
 Essay on Man., Ep. ii. 1. 2. 
 
 Indeed, Lord Bacon seems to have misunderstood the saying of 
 Epicurus, who did not mean to recommend man as the sole 
 object of the bodily vision, but as the proper theme for mental 
 contemplation. 
 
 1 Amare et sapere vix Deo conceditur. — Pub. Syr. Sent. 15. 
 (A. L. ii. prooe. 10.) 
 
OF LOVE. 97 
 
 reciprocal, or mth an inward and secret contempt ; 
 by how much the more men ought to beware of this 
 passion, which loseth not only other things, but 
 itself. As for the other losses, the poet's relation ^ 
 doth well figure them : " That he that preferred 
 Helena, quitted the gifts of Juno and Pallas ; " for 
 whosoever esteemeth too much of amorous affec- 
 tion, quitteth both riches and wisdom. This passion 
 hath his floods in the very times of weakness, which 
 are, great prosperity and great adversity, though 
 this latter hath been less observed; both which 
 times kindle love, and make it more fervent, and 
 therefore show it to be the child of folly. They do 
 best who, if they cannot but admit love, yet make 
 it keep quarter, and sever it wholly from their 
 serious affairs and actions of life ; for if it check 
 once with business, it troubleth men's fortunes, and 
 maketh men that they can nowise be true to their 
 own ends. I know not how, but martial men are 
 given to love ; I think it is, but as they arc given 
 to wine, for perils commonly ask to be paid in 
 pleasures. There is in man's nature a secret incli- 
 nation and motion towards love of others, which, if 
 it be not spent upon some one or a few, doth natu- 
 rally spread itself towards many, and maketh men 
 become humane and charitable, as it is seen some- 
 times in friars. Nuptial love maketh mankind, 
 friendly love perfecteth it, but wanton love cor- 
 rupteth and embaseth it. 
 
 1 He refers liere to the judgment of Paris, mentioned by Ovid 
 in his Epistles, of the Heroines. 
 
 7 
 
98 ESSAYS. 
 
 XL — OF GREAT PLACE.i 
 
 Men in great place are thrice servants — servants 
 of the sovereign or state, servants of fame, and ser- 
 vants of business ; so as they have no freedom, 
 neither in their persons, nor in their actions, nor 
 in their times. It is a strange desire to seek power 
 and to lose liberty; or to seek power over others, 
 and to lose power over a man's self. The rising 
 unto place is laborious, and by pains men come to 
 greater pains ; and it is sometimes base, and by 
 indignities men come to dignities. The standing is 
 slippery, and the regress is either a downfall, or at 
 least an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing : " Cum 
 non sis qui fueris, non esse cur velis vivere."^ Kay, 
 retire men cannot when they would, neither will 
 they when it were reason ; but are impatient of 
 privateness even in age and sickness, which require 
 the shadow; like old townsmen, that will be still 
 sitting at their street door, though thereby they 
 offer age to scorn. Certainly, great persons had 
 need to borrow other men's opinions to think them- 
 selves happy ; for if they judge by their own feeling, 
 they cannot find it; but if they think with them- 
 selves what other men think of them, and that 
 other men would fain be as they are, then they are 
 
 1 Montaigne has treated this subject before Bacon, under the 
 title of Dc Vincommodite de la Grandeur (B. iii. ch. vii.)- 
 
 2 "Since you are not what you were, there is no reason why you 
 should wish to live." 
 
OF GREAT PLACE. 99 
 
 happy as it were by report, when, perhaps, they find 
 the contrary withhi ; for they are the first that find 
 their own griefs, though they be the last that find 
 their own faults. Certainly, men in great fortunes 
 are strangers to themselves, and while they are in 
 the puzzle of business, they have no time to tend 
 their health either of body or mind. 
 
 "Illi mors gravis inciibat, 
 Qui notus iiimis omnibus, 
 Ignotus moritur." ^ 
 
 In place, there is license to do good and evil, 
 whereof the latter is a curse ; for in evil, the best 
 condition is not to will, the second not to can. But 
 power to do good is the true and lawful end of 
 aspiring; for good thoughts, though God accept 
 them, yet towards men are little better than good 
 dreams, except they be put in act ; and that can- 
 not be without power and place, as the vantage 
 and commanding ground. Merit and good works 
 are the end of man's motion, and conscience of the 
 same is the accomplishment of man's rest ; for if a 
 man can be partaker of God's theatre, he shall like- 
 wise be partaker of God's rest. ^' Et conversus Deus, 
 ut aspiceret opera, quae fecerunt manus suae, vidit 
 quod omnia essent bona nimis ; " ^ and then the 
 
 Sabbath. 
 
 I 
 
 1 ** Death presses heavily upon him, who, well known to all 
 others, dies unknown to himself." — Sen. Thijest. ii. 401. 
 
 2 *' And God turned to behold the works which his hands had 
 made, and he saw that everything was very good." — See Gen. i. 31. 
 
100 ESSAYS. 
 
 In the discharge of thy place, set before thee the 
 best examples ; for imitation is a globe of precepts, 
 and after a time set before thee thine own example ; 
 and examine thyself strictly whether thou didst not 
 best at first. Neglect not also the examples of those 
 that have carried themselves ill in the same place ; 
 not to set off thyself by taxing their memory, but 
 to direct thyself what to avoid. Reform, therefore, 
 without bravery or scandal of former times and per- 
 sons ; but yet set it down to thyself, as well to create 
 good precedents as to follow them. Reduce things 
 to the first institution, and observe wherein and how 
 they have degenerated ; but yet ask counsel of both 
 times — of the ancient time what is best, and of the 
 latter time what is fittest. Seek to make thy course 
 regular, that men may know beforehand what they 
 may expect ; but be not too positive and peremp- 
 tory, and express thyself well when thou digressest 
 from thy rule. Preserve the right of thy place, but 
 stir not questions of jurisdiction ; and rather assume 
 thy right in silence, and de facto,^ than voice it with 
 claims and challenges. Preserve likewise the rights 
 of inferior places ; and think it more honor to direct 
 in chief than to be busy in all. Embrace and invite 
 helps and advices touching the execution of thy 
 place ; and do not drive away such as bring thee 
 information, as meddlers, but accept of them in good 
 part. The \ices of authority are chiefly four: de- 
 lays, corruption, roughness, and facility. For delays, 
 
 1 "As a matter of course." 
 
OF GREAT PLACE. 101 
 
 give easy access, keep times appointed, go through 
 with that which is in hand, and interlace not busi- 
 ness but of necessity. For corruption, do not only 
 bind thine own hands or thy servant's hands from 
 taking, but bind the hands of suitors also from offer- 
 ing; for integrity used doth the one, but integrity 
 professed, and with a manifest detestation of bribery, 
 doth the other ; and avoid not only the fault, but the 
 suspicion. Whosoever is found variable, and chang- 
 eth manifestly without manifest cause, giveth sus- 
 picion of corruption ; therefore, always when thou 
 changest thine opinion or course, profess it plainly, 
 and declare it, together with the reasons that move 
 thee to change, and do not think to steal it. A 
 servant or a favorite, if he be inward, and no other 
 apparent cause of esteem, is commonly thought but 
 a by-way to close corruption. For roughness, it is 
 a needless cause of discontent : severity breedeth 
 fear, but roughness breedeth hate. Even reproofs 
 from authority ought to be grave, and not taunting. 
 As for facility,^ it is worse than bribery, for bribes 
 come but now and then ; but if importunity or idle 
 respects ^ lead a man, he shall never be without ; as 
 Solomon saith, " To respect persons is not good ; for 
 such a man will transgress for a piece of bread." ^ 
 
 1 Too great easiness of access, 
 
 2 Predilections that are undeserved. 
 
 2 Proverbs xxviii. 21. The whole passage stands thus in our 
 version : "He that niaketh haste to be rich shall not be innocent. 
 To have respect of persons is not good ; for, for a piece of bread, 
 that man will transgress." 
 
102 ESSAYS. 
 
 It is most true that was anciently spoken : " A 
 place showeth the man ; and it showeth some to the 
 better, and some to the worse : " " Omnium consensu 
 capax imperii, nisi imperasset," ^ saith Tacitus of 
 Galba ; but of Vespasian he saith, " Solus impe- 
 rantium, Vespasianus mutatus in melius ; " ^ though 
 the one was meant of sufficiency, the other of man- 
 ners and affection. It is an assured sign of a worthy 
 and generous spirit, whom honor amends ; for honor 
 is, or should be, the place of virtue ; and as in nature 
 things move violently to their place, and calmly in 
 their place, so virtue in ambition is ^dolent, in 
 authority settled and calm. All rising to great place 
 is by a winding stair ; and if there be factions, it is 
 good to side a man's self whilst he is in the rising, 
 and to balance himself when he is placed. Use the 
 memory of thy predecessor fairly and tenderly ; for 
 if thou dost not, it is a debt will sure be paid when 
 thou art gone. If thou have colleagues, respect 
 them ; and rather call them when they look not for 
 it, than exclude them when they have reason to look 
 to be called. Be not too sensible or too remember- 
 ing of thy place in conversation and private answers 
 to suitors ; but let it rather be said, " When he sits 
 in place, he is another man." 
 
 1 ** By the consent of all lie was fit to govern, if he had not 
 governed." 
 
 2 "Of the emperors, Vespasian alone changed for the better 
 after his accession.'" — Tac. Hist. i. 49, 50 (A. L. ii. xxii. 5). 
 
OF BOLDNESS. 103 
 
 XII. — OF BOLDNESS. 
 
 It is a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worthy 
 a wise man's consideration. Question was asked of 
 Demosthenes, what was the chief part of an orator ? 
 He answered, Action. What next ? — Action. What 
 next again? — Action.^ He said it that knew it 
 best, and had, by nature, himself no advantage in 
 that he commended. A strange thing, that that part 
 of an orator which is but superficial, and rather the 
 virtue of a player, should be placed so high above 
 those other noble parts of invention, elocution, and 
 the rest ; nay, almost alone, as if it were all in all. 
 But the reason is plain. There is in human nature 
 generally more of the fool than of the wise ; and 
 therefore, those faculties by which the foolish part 
 oi men's minds is taken are most potent. Wonder- 
 ful like is the case of boldness in civil business. 
 What first ? — Boldness : what second and third ? — 
 Boldness. And yet boldness is a child of ignorance 
 and baseness, far inferior to other parts ; but, never- 
 theless, it doth fascinate, and bind hand and foot 
 those that are either shallow in judgment or weak 
 in courage, which are the greatest part, yea, and 
 prevaileth with wise man at weak times ; therefore, 
 we see it hath done w^onders in popular states, but 
 with senates and princes less, and more, ever upon 
 the first entrance of bold persons into action than 
 
 1 Plut. vit. Demosth. 17. IS. 
 
104 ESSAYS. 
 
 soon after ; for boldness is an ill keeper of promise. 
 Surely, as there are mountebanks for the natural 
 body, so are there niountebanks for the politic body ; 
 men that undertake great cures, and perhaps have 
 been lucky in two or three experiments, but want 
 the grounds of science, and therefore cannot hold 
 out ; nay, you shall see a bold fellow many times do 
 Mahomet's miracle. Mahomet made the people 
 believe that he would call a hill to him, and from 
 the 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 said, " If the hill will not come to Mahomet, 
 JNIahomet will go to the hill." So these men, when 
 they have promised great matters and failed most 
 shamefully, yet, if they have the ] erfection of boldness, 
 they ^\dll but slight it over, and make a turn, and no 
 more ado. Certainly, to men of great judgment, 
 bold persons are a sport to behold ; nay, and to the 
 \Tilgar also boldness hath somewhat of the ridiculous ; 
 for if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you 
 not but great boldness is seldom without some ab- 
 surdity ; 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 stk ; but this 
 
OF GOODNESS, ETC. 105 
 
 last were fitter for a satire than for a serious obser- 
 vation. This is well to be weighed, that boldness 
 is ever blind, for it seeth not dangers and incon- 
 veniences ; therefore, it is ill in counsel, good in exe- 
 cution ; 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. 
 
 XIII. — OF GOODNESS, AND GOODNESS OF 
 NATURE. 
 
 I TAKE goodness in this sense, the affecting of 
 the weal of men, which is that the Grecians call 
 philanthropia ; and the word humanity, as it is 
 used, is a little too light to express it. Goodness I 
 call the habit, and goodness of nature the inclina- 
 tion. 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 
 
 1 It is not improbable that this passage suggested Pope's beauti- 
 ful lines in the Essay on Man, Ep. i. 125-28. 
 
 " Pride still is aiming at the blest abodes, 
 Men would be angels, angels would be gods. 
 Aspiring to be gods, if angels fell, 
 Aspiring to be angels, men rebel." 
 
106 ESSAYS. 
 
 in excess caused man to fall ; but in charity there 
 is no excess, neither can angel or man come in 
 danger by it. The inclination to goodness is im- 
 printed deeply in the nature of man, insomuch that 
 if it issue not towards men, it will take unto other 
 living creatures ; as it is seen in the Turks, a cruel 
 people, who nevertheless are kind to beasts, and 
 give alms to dogs and birds ; insomuch, as Busbe- 
 chius ^ reporteth, a Christian boy in Constantinople 
 had like to have been stoned for gagging in a wag- 
 gishness a long-billed fowl.^ Errors, indeed, in this 
 
 1 Auger Gisleii Biisbec, or Busbequius, a learned traveller, 
 born at Comines, in Flanders, in 1522. He was employed by 
 the Emperor Ferdinand as ambassador to the Sultan Solyman 
 II. He was afterwards ambassador to France, where he died, in 
 1592. His '• Letters " relative to his travels in the East, which 
 are written in Latin, contain much interesting information. They 
 were the pocket companion of Gibbon, and are highly praised 
 by him. 
 
 2 In this instance the stork or crane was probably protected, 
 not on the abstract grounds mentioned in the text, but for reasons 
 of state policy and gratitude combined. In Eastern climates 
 the cranes and dogs are far more efficacious than human agency in 
 removing filth and oflfld, and thereby diminishing the chances of 
 pestilence. Superstition, also, may have formed another motive, 
 as we learn from a letter written from Adrianople, by Lady Mon- 
 tagu, in 1718, that storks were "held there in a sort of religious 
 reverence, because they are supposed to make every winter tlie 
 pilgrimage to Mecca. To say truth, they are the happiest subjects 
 under the Turkish government, and are so sensible of their privi- 
 leges, that they walk the streets without fear, and generally build 
 their nests in the lower parts of the houses. Happy are those 
 whose houses are so distinguished, as the vulgar Turks are per- 
 fectly persuaded that they will not be that year attacked either 
 
OF GOODNESS, ETC. 107 
 
 virtue, of goodness or charity, may be committed. 
 The Itahans have an ungracious proverb : " Tanto 
 buon che val niente ; " " So good, that he is good 
 for nothing ; " and one of the doctors of Italy, Nicho- 
 las 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 that are tyran- 
 nical and unjust ; "^ which he spake, because, indeed, 
 there was never law, or sect, or opinion did so much 
 magnify goodness as the Christian religion doth ; 
 therefore, to avoid the scandal and the danger both, 
 it is good to take knowledge of the errors of a habit 
 so excellent. Seek the good of other men, but be 
 not in bondage to their faces or fancies ; for that is 
 but facility or softness, which taketh an honest mind 
 
 by live or pestilence." Storks are still protected, by municipal law, 
 in Holland, and roam unmolested about the market-places. 
 
 1 Nicolo Machiavelli, a Florentine statesman. Rewrote "Dis- 
 courses on the first Decade of I.ivy," which were conspicuous for 
 their liberality of sentiment, and just and profound reflections. 
 This work was succeeded by his famous treatise, "II Principe," 
 " The Prince ; " his patron, Csesar Borgia, being the model of the 
 perfect prince there described by him. The whole scope of this 
 work is directed to one object — the maintenance of power, however 
 acquired. Though its precepts are no doubt based upon the actual 
 practice of the Italian politicians of that day, it has been suggested 
 by some writers that the work was a covert exposure of the deform- 
 ity of the shocking maxims that it professes to inculcate. The 
 question of his motives has been much discussed, and is still con- 
 sidered open. The word " Machiavellism " has, however, been 
 adopted to denote all that is deformed, insincere, and perfidious in 
 politics. He died in great poverty, in the year 1527. 
 
 2 Vide Disc. Sop. Liv. ii. 2. . 
 
108 ESSAYS. 
 
 prisoner. Neither give thou ^sop's cock a gem, 
 who would be better pleased and happier if he had 
 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 honor and 
 virtues upon men equally ; common benefits are to 
 be communicate with all, but peculiar benefits with 
 choice. And beware how, in making the portraiture, 
 thou breakest the pattern; for divinity maketh the 
 love of ourselves the pattern, the love of our neigh- 
 bors but the portraiture : '' Sell all thou hast, and 
 give it to the poor, and follow me ; " ^ but sell not all 
 thou hast, except thou come and follow me ; that is, 
 except thou have a vocation wherein thou mayest do 
 as much good with little means as with great ; for 
 otherwise, in feeding the streams thou driest the 
 fountain. Neither is there only a habit of goodness 
 directed by right reason, but there is in some men, 
 even in nature, a disposition towards it ; as, on the 
 other side, there is a natural malignity, for there 
 be that in their nature do not affect the good of 
 
 1 St. Matthew v. 45. "For lie maketh his sun rise on the 
 evil and on the good, and sendeth rain on the just and on the 
 unjust." 
 
 2 This is a portion of our Saviour's reply to the rich man who 
 asked him what he should do to inherit eternal life : " Then Jesus 
 beholding him, loved him, and said unto him, One thing thou 
 lackest : go thy way, sell whatsoever thou hast, and give to the 
 poor, and thou shalt have treasure in heaven ; and come, take up 
 the cross, and follow me." — St. Mark x. 21. 
 
OF GOODNESS, ETC. 109 
 
 others. The lighter sort of malignity turneth but 
 to a crossness, or frowardness, or aptness to oppose, 
 or difficileness, or the like ; but the deeper sort to 
 envy, and mere mischief. Such men in other men's 
 calamities arc, as it were, in season, and are ever 
 on the loading part ; not so good as the dogs that 
 licked Lazarus's sores,^ but like flies that are still 
 buzzing upon any thing that is raw ; misanthropi, 
 that make it their practice to bring men to the 
 bough, and yet have never a tree for the purpose 
 in their gardens, as Timon ^ had. Such dispositions 
 are the very errors of human nature, and yet they 
 are the fittest timber to make great politics 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. The parts and signs of good- 
 ness are many. If a man be gracious and courteous 
 to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world, 
 
 A See St. Luke xvi. 21. 
 
 a Tiinon of Athens, as lie is generally called (being so styled by 
 Shakspeare in the play which he has founded on his story), was 
 siirnamed the "Misanthrope," from the hatred which he bore to 
 his fellow-men. He was attached to Apemantus, another Athenian 
 of similar character to himself, and he professed to esteem Alci- 
 biades, because he foresaw that he would one day bring ruin on 
 his country. Going to the public assembly on one occasion, he 
 mounted the rostrum, and stated that he had a fig-tree, on which 
 many worthy citizens had ended their days by the halter ; that he 
 was going to cut it down for the purpose of building on the spot, 
 and therefore reconmiended all such as were inclined, to avail 
 themselves of it before it was too late. 
 
 3 A piece of timber that has grown crooked, and has been so 
 cut that the trunk and branch form an angle. 
 
110 ESSAYS. 
 
 and that his heart is no island cut off from other 
 lands, but a continent that joins to them; if he be 
 compassionate 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 salva- 
 tion of his brethren, it shows much of a divine nature, 
 and a kind of conformity with Christ himself. 
 
 XIV. — OF NOBILITY. 
 
 We Avill 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 
 
 1 He probably here refers to the myrrh- tree. Incision is the 
 method usually adopted for extracting the resinous juices of trees ; 
 as in the India-rubber and gutta-percha trees. 
 
 2 "A votive," and, in the present instance, a "vicarious offer- 
 ing." He alludes to the words of St. Paul in his Second Epistle 
 to Timothy ii. 10: "Therefore I endure all things for the elect's 
 sake, that they may also obtain the salvation which is in Christ 
 Jesus with eternal glory." 
 
OF NOBILITY. HI 
 
 eyes of the people somewhat aside from the line 
 royal : but for democracies they need it not ; and 
 they are commonly more quiet and less subject to 
 sedition than where there are stirps of nobles ; for 
 men's eyes are upon the business, and not upon the 
 persons ; or if upon the persons, it is for the business 
 sake, as fittest, and not for flags and pedigree. We 
 see the Switzers last well, notwithstanding their 
 diversity of religion and of cantons ; for utility is 
 their bond, and not respects.^ The United Provinces 
 of tlie Low Countries ^ in their government excel ; 
 for where there is an equality the consultations are 
 more indifferent, and the payments and tributes more 
 cheerful. A great and potent nobility addeth ma- 
 jesty to a monarch, but diminisheth power, and put- 
 teth 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 sur- 
 charge 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 disproportion between 
 honor and means. 
 
 ^ Consideration of, or predilection for, particular persons. 
 
 4 The Low Countries had then recently emancipated themselves 
 from the galling yoke of Spain. They were called the Seven United 
 Proviuces oi the Nethciiands. 
 
112 ESSAYS. 
 
 As for nobility in particular persons, it is a rever- 
 end 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 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 innocent than their descendants ; 
 for there is rarely any rising but by a commixture 
 of good and evil arts ; but it is reason the memory 
 of their virtues remain to their posterity, and their 
 faults die with themselves. Nobility of birth com- 
 monly abateth industry, and he that is not indus- 
 trious, 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 other* towards them, because they 
 are in possession of honor. Certainly, kings that 
 have able men of their nobility shall find ease in 
 employing them, and a better slide into their busi- 
 ness ; for people naturally bend to them, as born 
 in some sort to command. 
 
 1 This passage may at first sight appear somewhat contradic- 
 toiy ; but he means to sa}^ that those who are first ennobled will 
 commonly be found more conspicuous for the prominence of their 
 qualities, both good and bad. 
 
 2 Consistent with reason and justice. 
 
OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 113 
 
 XV. — OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 
 
 Shepherds of people had need know the cal- 
 endars of tempests in state, which are commonly 
 greatest when things grow to equality; as natural 
 tempests are greatest 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 csecos instare tumultus 
 Ssepe monet, fraudesque et operta tumescere bella." 2 
 
 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 disad- 
 vantage of the state, and hastily embraced, are 
 amongst the signs of troubles. Virgil, giving the 
 pedigree of Fame, saith she was sister to the 
 giants : — 
 
 ** Illam Terra parens, ira irritata Deorum, 
 Extremam (iit perhibent) Coeo Enceladoque sororem 
 Progenuit." ^ 
 
 As if fames were the relics of seditions past; 
 but they are no less indeed the preludes of sedi- 
 tions to come. Howsoever, he noteth it right, that 
 
 1 The periods of the Equinoxes. 
 
 2 "He often warns, too, that secret revolt is impending, that 
 treachery and open warfare are ready to hurst forth," — Virg. 
 Georg. i. 465. 
 
 ^ ** Mother Earth, exasperated at the wrath of the Deities, pro- 
 duced her, as they tell, a last birth, a sister to the giants Cceus, 
 and Enceladus." — Virg. ^n. iv. 179. 
 
 8 
 
114 ESSAYS. 
 
 seditious tumults and seditious fames differ no more 
 but as brother and sister, masculine and feminine; 
 especially if it come to that, that the best actions of 
 a state, and the most plausible, and which ought to 
 give greatest contentment, are taken in ill sense, 
 and traduced; for that shows the envy great, as 
 Tacitus saith, "Conflate magn^ invidiS., sen bene, 
 sen male, gesta premunt." ^ Neither doth it follow, 
 that because these fames are a sign of troubles, that 
 the suppressing of them with too much severity 
 should be a remedy of troubles; for the despising 
 of them many times checks them best, and the 
 going about to stop them doth but make a wonder 
 long-lived. Also that kind of obedience, which Taci- 
 tus speaketh of, is to be held suspected : " Erant 
 in officio, sed tamen qui mallent imperantium man- 
 data interpretari, quam exsequi ; " ^ disputing, ex- 
 cusing, cavilling upon mandates and directions, is 
 a kind of shaking off the yoke, and assay of dis- 
 obedience ; especially if, in those disputings, they 
 which are for the direction speak fearfully and ten- 
 derly, and those that are against it audaciously. 
 
 1 " Great public odium once excited, his deeds, whether good 
 or whether bad, cause his downfalL"' Bacon has here quoted 
 incorrectly, probably froin niemoryc The words of Tacitus are 
 {Hist. B. i. C. 7),: " Inviso semel principe, seu bene, seu male, 
 facta premunt," — "The ruler once detested, his actions, whether 
 good or whether bad, cause his downfall." 
 
 2 " They attended to their duties ; but still, as preferring rather 
 to discuss the commands of their rulers, than to obey them." — 
 Tac. Hist. ii. 39. 
 
OF SEDITIONS AND TEOUBLES. 115 
 
 Also, as Macliiavel noteth well, when princes, 
 that ought to be common parents, make themselves 
 as a party, and lean to a side ; it is as a boat that 
 is overthrown by uneven weight on the one side, 
 as was well seen in the time of Henry the Third of 
 France ; for first himself entered league ^ for the 
 extirpation of the Protestants, and presently after 
 the same league was turned upon himself; for when 
 the authority of princes is made but an accessary to 
 a cause, and 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 government is lost ; for the motions of 
 the greatest persons in a government ought to be as 
 the motions of the planets under " primum mobile," ^ 
 according to the old opinion, which is, that every of 
 them is carried swiftly by the highest motion, and 
 softly in their own motion ; and therefore, when 
 great ones in their own particular motion move 
 violently, and as Tacitus expresseth it well, " liberius 
 
 1 He alludes to the bad policy of Henry the Third of France, 
 who espoused the part of "The League," which was formed by 
 the Duke of Guise and other Catholics for the extirpation of the 
 Protestant faith. When too late he discovered his error, and 
 finding his own authority entirely superseded, he caused the 
 Duke of Guise and the Cardinal De Lorraine, his brother, to 
 be assassinated. 
 
 2 "The primary motive power." He alludes to an imaginary 
 centre of gravitation, or central body, which was supposed to set 
 all the other heavenly bodies in motion. 
 
116 ESSAYS. 
 
 quam ut imperantium meminissent/' ^ it is a sign the 
 orbs are out of frame ; for reverence is that where- 
 with princes are girt from God, who threateneth the 
 dissolving thereof : " Solvam cingula regum." ^ 
 
 So when any of the four pillars of government 
 are mainly shaken or weakened (which are religion, 
 justice, counsel, and treasure), men had need to pray 
 for fair weather. But let us pass from this part 
 of predictions (concerning which, nevertheless, more 
 light may be taken from that which followeth), and 
 let us speak first of the materials of seditions ; then 
 of the motives of them ; and thirdly of the remedies. 
 
 Concerning the materials of seditions, it is a thing 
 well to be considered, for the surest way to prevent 
 seditions (if the times do bear it), is to take away 
 the matter of them ; for if there be fuel prepared, 
 it is hard to tell whence the spark shall come that 
 shall set it on fire. The matter of seditions is of 
 two kinds, much poverty and much discontentment. 
 It is certain, so many overthrown estates, so many 
 votes for troubles. Lucan noteth well the state of 
 Rome before the civil war : — 
 
 *' Hinc usura vorax, rapidumque in tempore fceims, 
 Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum." ^ 
 
 1 " Too freely to remember their own rulers." 
 
 2 "I will unloose the girdles of kings." He probably alludes 
 here to the first verse of the 45th chapter of Isaiah : " Thus saith 
 the Lord to his anointed, to Cyrus, whose right hand I have holden, 
 to subdue nations before him ; and I will loose the loins of kings, 
 to open before him the two-leaved gates." 
 
 3 *' Hence devouring usury, and interest accumulating in lapse 
 
 W, 
 
OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 117 
 
 This same ^' niiiltis 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 neces- 
 sity 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 humors in the natural, which 
 are apt to gather a preternatural heat and to in- 
 flame ; and let no prince measure the danger of 
 them by this, whether they be just or unjust; for 
 that were to imagine people to be too reasonable, 
 who do often spurn at their own good ; nor yet by 
 this, whether the griefs whereupon they rise be in 
 fact great or small ; for they are the most danger- 
 ous discontentments where the fear is greater than 
 the feeling : " Dolendi modus, timendi non item." ^ 
 Besides, in great oppressions, the same things that 
 provoke the patience, do withal 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 
 vapor or fume doth not turn into a storm, so it is 
 nevertheless true that storms, though they blow 
 
 of time ; hence shaken credit, and warfare, profitable to the many." 
 — Lucan, Phars. 1. 181. 
 
 1 " Warfare profitable to the many." 
 
 2 " To grief there is a limit, not so to fear." 
 2 "Check," or *' daunt." 
 
118 ESSAYS. 
 
 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, innova- 
 tion in religion, taxes, alteration of laws and cus- 
 toms, breaking of privileges, general oppression, ad- 
 vancement of unworthy persons, strangers, dearths, 
 disbanded soldiers, factions grown desperate, and 
 whatsoever in offending 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 spake, which is, want and poverty in 
 the estate ; ^ to which purpose serveth the opening 
 and well-balancing of trade ; the cherishing of manu- 
 factures ; the banishing of idleness ; the repressing 
 of waste and excess by sumptuary laws ; ^ the im- 
 provement and husbanding of the soil ; the regu- 
 lating of prices of things vendible ; the moderating 
 of taxes and tributes, and the like. Generally, it is 
 
 ^ This is similar to the proverb now in common use : " 'T is the 
 last feather that breaks the back of the camel." 
 
 2 The state. 
 
 3 Though sumptuary laws are probably just in theory, they have 
 been found impracticable in any other than infant states. Their 
 principle, however, is certainly recognized in such countries as 
 by statutory enactment discountenance gaming. Those who are 
 
OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 119 
 
 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 kingdom which should main- 
 tain them ; neither is the population to be reck- 
 oned only by number ; for a smaller number, that 
 spend more and earn less, do wear out an estate 
 sooner than a greater number that live lower and 
 gather more. Therefore the multiplying of nobility 
 and other degrees of quality, in an over-proportion 
 to the common people, doth speedily bring a state 
 to necessity ; and so doth likewise an overgrown 
 clergy, for they bring nothing to the stock ; ^ and 
 in like manner, when more are bred scholars than 
 preferments can take off. 
 
 It is likewise to be remembered, that, forasmuch 
 as the increase of any estate must be upon the for- 
 eigner ^ (for whatsoever is somewhere gotten is some- 
 where lost), there be but three things which one 
 nation selleth unto another ; the commodity, as 
 nature yieldeth it ; the manufacture ; and the vec- 
 ture, oi carriage ; so that, if these three wheels go, 
 wealth will flow as in a spring tide. And it cometh 
 many times to pass, that, " materiam superabit 
 
 opposed to such laws upon principle, would do well to look into 
 Bernard Mandeville's "Fable of the Bees," or "Private Vices 
 Public Benefits." The Romans had numerous sumptuary laws, 
 and in the Middle Ages there were many enactments in this 
 country against excess of expenditure upon wearing apparel and 
 the pleasures of the table, 
 
 1 He means that they do not add to the capital of the country. 
 
 2 At the expense of foreign countries. 
 
120 ESSAYS. 
 
 opus," ^ that the work and carriage is more worth 
 than the material, and enricheth a state more ; as 
 is notably seen in the Low Countr^^men, who have 
 the best mines ^ above ground in the world. 
 
 Above all things, good policy is to be used, that 
 the treasure and moneys in a state be not gathered 
 into few hands ; for, otherwise, a state may have a 
 great stock, and yet starve. And money is like 
 muck,^ not good except it be spread. This is done 
 chiefly by suppressing, or, at the least, keeping a 
 strait hand upon the devouring trades of usury, en- 
 grossing ^ 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 them- 
 selves ; then is the danger, when the greater sort 
 
 1 "The workmanship will surpass the material." — Ovid, Met. 
 B. 11. 1. 5. 
 
 2 He alludes to the manufactures of the Low Countries. 
 8 Like manure. 
 
 * Sometimes printed engrossing, great pasturages. By engross- 
 ing, is meant the trade of engrossers — men who buy up all that 
 can be got of a pai'ticular commodity, then raise the price. By 
 great pasturages is meant turning corn land into pasture. Of 
 this practice great complaints had been made for near a century 
 before Bacon's time, and a law passed to prevent it. — See Lord 
 Herbert of Cherhury's History of Henry VIII. 
 
OF SEDITIONS AND TEOUBLES. 121 
 
 do but wait for the troubling of the waters amongst 
 the meaner, that then 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 hun- 
 dred hands, to come in to his aid ; an emblem, no 
 doubt, to show how safe it is for monarch s to make 
 sure of the good-will of common people. 
 
 To give moderate liberty for griefs and discon- 
 tentments to evaporate (so it be without too great 
 insolency or bravery), is a safe way ; for he that 
 turneth the humors 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. Epi- 
 metheus, 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 nourish- 
 
 ^ The myth of Pandora's box, which is here referred to, is 
 related in the Works and Days of Hesiod. Epimetheus was 
 the personification of " Afterthought," while his brother Prome- 
 theus represented "Forethought," or prudence. It was not 
 Epimetheus that opened the box, but Pandora — "All-gift," 
 wdiom, contrary to the advice of his brother, he had received at 
 the hands of Mercury, and had made his wife. In their house 
 stood a closed jar, which they were forbidden to open. Till her 
 arrival, this had been kept untouched ; but her curiosity prompt- 
 ing her to open the lid, all the evils hitherto unknown to man 
 Hew out and spread over the earth, and she only shut it down 
 in time to prevent the escape of Hope. 
 
122 ESSAYS. 
 
 ing and entertaicing 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 fac- 
 tions 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 or fit head whereunto discontented persons 
 may resort, and under whom they may join, is a 
 knowm but an excellent point of caution. I under- 
 stand a fit head to be one that hath greatness and 
 reputation, that hath confidence with the discon- 
 tented party, and upon wdiom they turn their eyes, 
 and that is thought discontented in his own par- 
 ticular : which kind of persons are either to be won 
 and reconciled to the state, and that in a fast and 
 true manner ; or to be fronted with some other of 
 the same party that may oppose them, and so di- 
 vide the reputation. Generally, the dividing and 
 breaking of all factions and combinations that are 
 adverse to the state, and setting them at distance, 
 or, at least, distrust amongst themselves, is not one 
 of the worst remedies ; for it is a desperate case, if 
 those that hold with the proceeding of the state be 
 full of discord and faction, and those that are against 
 it be entire and united. 
 
OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES. 123 
 
 I have noted, that some witty and sharp speeches, 
 which have fallen from princes, have given fire to 
 seditions. Csesar did himself infinite hurt in that 
 speech — " Sylla nescivit literas, non potuit die- 
 tare , " ^ for it did utterly cut off that hope which 
 men had entertained, that he would, at one time or 
 other, give over his dictatorship. Galba undid himself 
 by that speech, " Legi a se militem, non emi ; " ^ for it 
 put the soldiers out of hope of the donative. Probus, 
 likewise, by that speech, " Si vixero, non opus erit 
 amplius Romano imperio militibus ; " ^ a speech of 
 great despair for the soldiers, and many the like. 
 Surely princes had need, in tender matters and 
 ticklish times, to beware what they say, especially 
 in these short speeches, which fly abroad like darts, 
 and are thought to be shot out of their secret in- 
 tentions ; for as for large discourses, they are flat 
 things, and not so much noted. 
 
 1 "Sylla (lid not know his letters, and so he could not dictate." 
 This saying is attributed Ly Suetonius to Julius Csesar. It is a 
 play on the Latin verb dictare^ which means either "to dictate," 
 or "to act the part of Dictator," according to the context. As 
 this saying was presumed to be a reflection on Sylla's ignorance, 
 and to imply that by reason thereof he was unable to maintain 
 his power, it was concluded by the Roman people that Coesar, 
 who was an elegant scholar, feeling himself subject to no such 
 inability, did not intend speedily to yield the reins of power. — 
 Suet. Fit. C. Jul. Cces. 77, i. and Cf. A. L. i. vii. 12. 
 
 2 " That soldiers were levied by him, not bought." — Tac. Hist. 
 i. 5. 
 
 ^ " If I live, there shall no longer be need of soldiers in the 
 Roman empire." — Flav. Fojj. Fit. Prob. 20. 
 
124 ESSAYS. 
 
 Lastly, let princes, against all events, not be 
 without some great person, one or rather more, of 
 military valor, near unto them, for the repressing of 
 seditions in their beginnings ; for without that, there 
 useth to be more trepidation in court upon the first 
 breaking out of troubles than were fit, and the state 
 runneth the danger of that which Tacitus saith : 
 " Atque is habitus animorum fait, ut pessimum 
 facinus auderent pauci, plures vellent, omnes pater- 
 entur : " ^ but let such military persons be assured, 
 and well reputed of, rather than factious and popu- 
 lar ; holding also good correspondence with the other 
 great men in the state, or else the remedy is worse 
 than the disease. 
 
 XVI. — OF ATHEISM. 
 
 I HAD rather believe all the fables in the legends,^ 
 and the Talmud,^ and the Alcoran, than that this 
 universal frame is without a mind; and, therefore, 
 God never wrought miracle to convince atheism, 
 
 1 "And such was the state of feeling, that a few dared to per- 
 petrate the worst of crimes ; more wished to do so ; all submitted 
 to it." —Hist. i. 28. 
 
 2 He probably alludes to the legends or miraculous stories of 
 the saints ; such as walking with their heads off, preaching to the 
 fishes, sailing over the sea on a cloak, &c. &c. 
 
 ' This is a book that contains the Jewish traditions, and the 
 rabbinical explanations of the law. It is replete with wonderful 
 narratives. 
 
OF ATHEISM. 125 
 
 because his ordinary works convince 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 some- 
 times rest in them, and go no further ; 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: that 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 
 
 1 This passage not improbably contains the germ of Pope's 
 famous lines : — 
 
 "A little learning is a dangerous thing ; 
 Drink deep, or taste not the Pierian spring." 
 
 2 A philosopher of Abdera ; the first who taught the system of 
 atoms, which was afterwards more fully developed by Democritus 
 and Ei)icurus. 
 
 3 He was a disciple of the last-named philosopher, and held 
 the same principles ; he also denied the existence of the soul 
 after death. He is considered to have been the parent of experi- 
 mental philosophy, and was the first to teach, what is now con- 
 firmed by science, that the Milky Way is an accumulation of 
 stars. 
 
 4 Spirit. 
 
126 ESSAYS. 
 
 God ; " ^ it is not said, " The fool hath thought in his 
 heart ; " so as he rather saith it by rote to himself, 
 as that he would have, than that he can thoroughly 
 believe it, or be persuaded of it ; for none deny there 
 is a God, but those for whom it maketh ^ that there 
 were no God. It appeareth in nothing more, that 
 atheism is rather in the lip than in the heart of man, 
 than by this, that atheists will ever be talking of that 
 their opinion, as if they fainted in it within them- 
 selves, 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 of them 
 that will suffer for atheism, and not recant ; whereas, 
 if they did truly think that there were no such thing 
 as God, why should they trouble themselves ? Epi- 
 curus is charged, that he did but dissemble for his 
 credit's sake, when he affirmed there were blessed 
 natures, but such as enjoyed themselves without 
 having respect to the government of the world. 
 Wherein they say he did temporize, though in secret 
 he thought there was no God ; but certainly he is 
 traduced, for his words are noble and divine : " Non 
 Deos vulgi negare profanum ; sed vulgi opiniones 
 Diis applicare profanum."^ Plato could have said 
 
 ^ Psalm xiv. 1, and liii. 1. i 
 
 2 To whose (seeming) advantage it is ; the wish being father 
 to the thought. 
 
 3 "It is not profane to deny the existence of the deities of the 
 vulgar ; but, to apply to the divinities the received notions of the 
 vulgar, is profane." — Diog. Laert. x. 123. 
 
OF ATHEISM. 127 
 
 no more ; and, altliough he bad 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 latitude and extent of it ; so that against 
 atheists the very savages take part with the very 
 subtlest philosophers. The contemplative 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 the name of atheists. But the great atheists 
 indeed are hypocrites, which are ever handling holy 
 things, but without feeling, so as they must needs be 
 
 1 He alludes to the native tribes of tlie continent of America and 
 the West Indies. 
 
 2 He was an Athenian philosopher, who, from the greatest 
 superstition, became an avowed atheist. He was proscribed by 
 the Areiopagus for speaking against the gods with ridicule and 
 contempt, and is supposed to have died at Corinth. 
 
 ^ A Greek philosopher, a disciple of Theodorus the atheist, to 
 whose opinions he adhered. His life was said to have been profli- 
 gate, and his death superstitious. 
 
 * Lucian ridiculed the follies and pretensions of some of the 
 ancient philosophers ; but though the freedom of his style was 
 such as to cause him to be censured for impiety, he hardly de- 
 serves the stigma of atheism here cast upon him by the learned 
 author. 
 
128 ESSAYS. 
 
 cauterized in the end. The causes of atheism are: 
 divisions in religion, if they be many ; for any one 
 main division addeth zeal to both 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, 
 custom of profane scoifing in holy matters, which 
 doth by little and little deface the reverence of 
 religion : and lastly, learned times, specially 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 nobility, for certainly 
 man is of kin to the beasts by his body ; and if he 
 be not of kin to God by his spirit, he is a base and 
 ignoble creature. It destroys likewise magnanimity, 
 and the raising of human nature ; for, take an ex- 
 ample of a dog, and mark what a generosity and 
 courage he will put on when he finds himself main- 
 tained by a man, who, to him, is instead of a God, 
 or " melior natura ; " ^ which courage is manifestly 
 such as that creature, without that confidence of a 
 better nature than his own, could never attain. So 
 
 1 " It is not for us now to say, ' Like priest like people,' for 
 the people are not even so had as the priest." St. Bernard, abbot 
 of Clairvaux, preached the second Cnisade against the Saracens, 
 and was unsparing in his censures of the sins then prevalent 
 among the Christian priesthood. His writings are voluminous, 
 and by some he has been considered as the latest of the fathers 
 of the Church. 
 
 2 "A superior nature." 
 
OF ATHEISM. 129 
 
 man, when he resteth and assureth himself upon 
 divine protection and favor, 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 par- 
 ticular 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 conscripti, nos amemus, 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 
 h^c unsi sapienti^, quod Deorum immortalium nu- 
 mine omnia regi, gubernarique perspeximus, omnes 
 gentes, nationesque superavimus." ^ 
 
 1 "We may admire ourselves, conscript fathers, as much as 
 we please ; still, neither by numbers did we vanquish the Span- 
 iards, nor by bodily strength the Gauls, nor by cunning the Car- 
 thaginians, nor through the arts the Greeks, nor, in fine, by the 
 inborn and native good sense of this our nation, and this our 
 race and soil, the Italians and Latins themselves ; but through 
 our devotion and our religious feeling, and this, the sole true 
 wisdom, the having perceived that all things are regulated and 
 governed by the providence of the immortal Gods, have we subdued 
 all races and nations." — Cic. de. Rarus. Resyon. 9. 
 
130 ESSAYS. 
 
 XVII. — OF SUPERSTITIOK 
 
 It were better to have no opinion of God at all, 
 than such an opinion as is unworthy of him ; for 
 the one is unbelief, the other is contumely/ and cer- 
 tainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity. 
 Plutarch saith well to that purpose : " Surely," saith 
 he, ''I had rather a great deal men should say there 
 was no such man at all as Plutarch, than that they 
 should say that there was one Plutarch that would 
 eat his children ^ as soon as they were born," as 
 the poets speak of Saturn ; and, as the contumely 
 is greater towards God, so the danger is greater 
 towards men. Atheism leaves a man to sense, to 
 philosophy, to natural piety, to laws, to reputation, 
 all which may be guides to an outward moral virtue, 
 though religion were not ; but superstition dismounts 
 all these, and erecteth an absolute monarchy in the 
 minds of men. Therefore atheism did never perturb 
 states ; for it makes men wary of themselves, as 
 looking no further, and we see the times inclined 
 to atheism (as the time of Augustus Ca3sar) were 
 civil times ; but superstition hath been the confusion 
 
 1 The justice of this position is, perhaps, somewhat doubtful. 
 The superstitious man must have some scruples, while he who 
 believes not in a God (if there is such a person), needs have none. 
 
 2 Time was personified in Saturn, and by this story was meant 
 its tendency to destroy whatever it has brought into existence. — 
 Plut. de Superstit. x. 
 
OF SUPERSTITION. 131 
 
 of many states, and bringeth in a new primum mo- 
 bile,^ that ravisheth all the spheres of government. 
 The master of superstition is the people, and in all 
 superstition wise men follow fools ; and arguments 
 are fitted to practice in a reversed order. It was 
 gravely said by some of the prelates in the Council 
 of Trent,^ where the doctrine of the schoolmen 
 bare great sway, that the schoolmen were like as- 
 tronomers, which did feign eccentrics ^ and epicyles,* 
 and such engines of orbs to save^ the phenomena, 
 tliough they knew there were no such things; and, 
 in like manner, that the schoolmen had framed a 
 number of subtle and intricate axioms and theorems, 
 to save the practice of the Church. The causes of 
 superstition are, pleasing and sensual rites and cer- 
 emonies ; excess of outward and pharisaical holiness ; 
 over-great reverence of traditions, which cannot but 
 load the Church ; the stratagems of prelates for 
 their own ambition and lucre ; the favoring too much 
 of good intentions, which openeth the gate to con- 
 ceits and novelties ; the taking an aim at divine 
 matters by human, which cannot but breed mixture 
 
 1 The primary motive power. 
 
 2 This Council commenced in 1545, and lasted eighteen years. 
 It was convened for the purpose of opposing the rising spirit of 
 Protestantism, and of discussiug and settling the disputed points 
 of the Catholic faith. 
 
 ^ Irregular or anomalous movements. 
 
 4 An epicycle is a smaller circle, whose centre is in the circum- 
 ference of a greater one. 
 ^ To account for. 
 
132 ESSAYS. 
 
 of imaginations ; and, lastly, barbarous times, espe- 
 cially joined with calamities and disasters. Supersti- 
 tion, without a veil, is a deformed thing ; for, as it 
 addeth deformity to an ape to be so like a man, 
 so the similitude of superstition to religion makes 
 it the more deformed ; and as wholesome meat cor- 
 rupteth to little worms, so good forms and orders 
 corrupt into a number of petty observances. There 
 is a superstition in avoiding superstition, when men 
 think to do best if they go furthest from the super- 
 stition formerly received ; therefore care would 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. 
 
 XVIII. — OF TRAVEL. 
 
 Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of educa- 
 tion ; in the elder, a part of experience. He that 
 travelleth into a country before he hath some en- 
 trance into the language, goeth to school, and not to 
 travel. That young men travel under some tutor 
 or grave servant, I allow well, so that he be such a 
 one that hath the language, and hath been in the 
 country before ; whereby he may be able to tell 
 them what things are worthy to be seen in the 
 country where they go, what acquaintances they 
 are to seek, what exercises or discipline the place 
 
OF TRAVEL. 133 
 
 jieldeth; 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 
 f-kj 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, there- 
 fore, be brought in use. The things to be seen and 
 observed are, the courts of princes, especially when 
 they give audience to ambassadors ; the courts of 
 justice, while they sit and hear causes; and so of 
 consistories^ ecclesiastic; the churches and monas- 
 teries, with the monuments which are therein ex- 
 tant ; the walls and fortifications of cities and towns ; 
 and so the havens and harbors, antiquities and ruins, 
 libraries, colleges, disputations, and lectures, where 
 any are ; shipping and navies ; houses and gardens 
 of state and pleasure, near great cities; armories, 
 arsenals, magazines, exchanges, burses, warehouses, 
 exercises of horsemanship, fencing, training of sol- 
 diers, 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 triumphs, masks, 
 feasts, weddings, funerals, capital executions, and 
 such shows, men need not to be put in mind of 
 them ; yet they are not to be neglected. If you 
 
 ^ Synods, or councils. 
 
134 ESSAYS. 
 
 will have a young man to put his travel into a little 
 room, and in short time to gather much, this you 
 must do : first, as was said, he must have some 
 entrance into the language before he goeth; then 
 he must have such a servant, or tutor, as knoweth 
 the country, as was likewise said; let him carry 
 with him also some card or book, describing the 
 country where he 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 deserveth, but not long ; nay, when he 
 stayeth in one city or town, let him change his lodg- 
 ing 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 country- 
 men, 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, pro- 
 cure recommendation to some person of quality 
 residing in the place whither he removeth, that he 
 may use his favor in those 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 employed 
 men^ of ambassadors, for so in travelling in one 
 country he shall suck the experience of many; let 
 him also see and visit eminent persons in all kinds 
 which are of great name abroad, that he may be 
 
 1 At the present day called attaches. 
 
OF EMPIRE. 135 
 
 able to tell how the life agreeth with tlie fame. 
 For quarrels, they are with care and discretion 
 to be avoided; they are commonly for mistresses, 
 healths,^ place, and words ; and let a man beware 
 how he keepeth company with choleric and quarrel- 
 some persons, for they will engage him into their 
 own quarrels. When a traveller return eth home, 
 let him not leave the countries where he hath trav- 
 elled altogether behind him, but maintain a cor- 
 respondence by letters with those of his acquaintance 
 which are of most worth ; and let his travel appear 
 rather in his 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. 
 
 XIX. — OF EMPIRE. 
 
 It is a miserable state of mind to have few things 
 to desire, and many things to fear ; and yet that 
 commonly is the case of kings, who, being, at the 
 highest, want matter of desire,^ which makes their 
 
 1 He probably means the refusing to join on the occasion of 
 drinking healths when taking wine. 
 
 2 Soraethinff to create excitement. 
 
136 ESSAYS. 
 
 minds more languishing ; and have many repre- 
 sentations of perils and shadows, which makes 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 playing 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 
 
 ^ ** The heart of kings is unsearchable." — Prov. v. 3. 
 
 2 Commodus fought naked in public as a gladiator, and prided 
 himself on his skill as a swordsman. 
 
 3 Making a stop at, or dwelling too long upon. 
 
OF EMPIRE. 137 
 
 Alexander the Great, Diocletian,^ and, in our mem- 
 ory, Charles the Fifth,^ and others; for he that is 
 used to go forward, and findeth a stop, falleth out 
 of his own favoi', 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 to interchange them. 
 The answer of Apollonius to Vespasian is full of 
 excellent instruction. Vespasian asked him, ^' What 
 was Nero's overthrow ? " He answered, " Nero 
 could touch and tune the harp well ; but in govern- 
 ment sometimes he used to wind the pins too high, 
 sometimes to let them down too low." ^ And cer- 
 tain it is, that nothing destroyeth authority so much 
 as the unequal and untimely interchange of power 
 pressed too far, and relaxed too much. 
 
 This is true, that the wisdom of all these latter 
 times in princes' affairs is rather fine deliveries, and 
 shiftings of dangers and mischiefs, when they are 
 near, than solid and grounded courses to keep them 
 aloof; but this is but to try masteries with fortune, 
 and let men beware how they neglect and suffer 
 matter of trouble to be prepared. For no man can 
 forbid the spark, nor tell whence it may come. 
 
 1 After a prosperous reign of twenty-one years, Diocletian abdi- 
 cated the tlirone, and retired to a private station. 
 
 2 After having reigned thirty-five years, he abdicated the thrones 
 of Spain and Germany, and passed the last two years of his life in 
 retirement at St. Just, a convent in Estreraadura. 
 
 3 Philost. vit. Apoll. Tyan. v. 28. 
 
138 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 contrariee ; " ^ 
 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 neighbors, their 
 wives, their children, their prelates or clergy, their 
 nobles, their second nobles or gentlemen, their mer- 
 chants, their commons, and their men of war; and 
 from all these arise dangers, if care and circum- 
 spection be not used. 
 
 First, for their neighbors, 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 neighbors do 
 overgrow so (by increase of territory, by embracing 
 of trade, by approaches, or the like), as they be- 
 come more able to annoy them than they were ; and 
 this is generally the work of standing counsels to 
 foresee and to hinder it. During that triumvirate 
 of kings. King Henry the Eighth of England, Fran- 
 cis the First, King of France,^ and Charles the 
 Fifth, Emperor, there was such a watch kept that 
 
 1 "The desires of monarchs are generally impetuous and conflict- 
 ing among themselves. " — Quoted rightly, A. L. ii. xxii. 5, from 
 Ballust (B. J. 113). 
 
 2 He was especially the rival of the Emperor Charles tlie Fifth, 
 and was one of the most distinguished sovereigns that ever ruled 
 over France. 
 
OF EMPIEE. 139 
 
 none of the three could win a palm of ground, but 
 the other two would straightways balance it, cither 
 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 Guic- 
 ciardini^ saith was the security of Italy) made 
 between Ferdinando, King of Naples, Lorenzius 
 Medicis, and Ludovicus Sforza, potentates, the one 
 of Florence, the other of Milan. Neither is the 
 opinion of some of the schoolmen to be received, 
 that a war cannot justly be made, but upon a prece- 
 dent injury or provocation ; for there is no question, 
 but a just fear of an imminent danger, though there 
 be no blow given, is a lawful cause of a w^ar. 
 
 For their wives, there are cruel examples of them. 
 Livia is infamed^ for the poisoning of her husband; 
 Roxolana, Solyman's wife,^ was the destruction of 
 
 1 An eminent historian of Florence. His great work, which 
 is here alluded to, is, " The History of Italy during his own 
 Time," which is considered one of the most valuable productions 
 of that age. 
 
 2 Spoken badly of. Livia was said to have hastened the death 
 of Augustus, to prepare the accession of her son Tiberius to the 
 throne. 
 
 3 Solyman the Magnificent was one of the most celebrated of 
 the Ottoman monarchs. He took the Isle of Ehodes from the 
 Knights of St. John. He also subdued Moldavia, Wallachia, 
 and the greatest part of Hungary, and took from the Persians 
 Georgia and Bagdad. He died A. D. 1566. His wife Roxolana 
 (who was originally a slave called Rosa or Hazathya), with the 
 Pasha Rustan, conspired against the life of his son Mustapha, and 
 by their instigation this distinguished prince was strangled in his 
 father's presence. 
 
140 ESSAYS. 
 
 that renowned prince, Sultan Mustapha, and other- 
 wise troubled his house and succession ; Edward the 
 Second 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 dan- 
 gers from them have been many ; and generally the 
 entering of fathers into suspicion of their children 
 hath been ever unfortunate. The destruction of 
 Mustapha (that w^e 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 the Second 
 w^as thought to be sui:>posititious.^ The destruction 
 of Crispus, a young prince of rare towardness, by 
 Constantinus the Great, his father, was in like man- 
 ner fatal to his house ; for both Constantinus and 
 Constance, his sons, died violent deaths ; and Con- 
 stantius, 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 the Second of Macedon, turned upon 
 
 1 The infamous Isabella of Anjou. 
 
 2 Adulteresses. 
 
 3 He, however, distinguished himself by taking Cyprus from 
 the Venetians in the year 1571. 
 
 * He was falsely accused by his brother Perseus of attempting to 
 dethrone his father, on which he was put to death by the order of 
 Philip, B. C. 180. 
 
OF EMPIRE. 141 
 
 the father, who died of repentance. And many like 
 examples there are; bnt few or none where the 
 fathers had good by such distrust, except it were 
 where the sons were up in open arms against them ; 
 as was Selymus the First against Bajazet, and the 
 three sons of Henry the Second, King of England. 
 
 For their prelates, when they are proud and great, 
 there is also danger from them; as it was in the 
 times of Anselmus ^ and Thomas Becket, Archbish- 
 ops of Canterbury, who, with their crosiers, did 
 almost try it with the king's sword ; and yet they 
 had to deal with stout and haughty kings ; William 
 Rufus, Henry the First, and Henry the Second. 
 The danger is not from that state, but where it hath 
 a dependence of foreign authority; or where the 
 churchmen come in and are elected, not by the 
 collation of the King, or particular patrons, but by 
 the people. 
 
 For their nobles, to keep them at a distance it is 
 not amiss ; but to depress them may make a king 
 more absolute, but less safe, and less able to perform 
 anything that he desires. I have noted it in my 
 History of King Henry the Seventh of England, 
 who depressed his nobility, whereupon it came to 
 pass that his times were full of difficulties and 
 
 1 Anselm was Archbishop of Canterbury in the time of William 
 Rufus and Henry the First. Though his private life was pious 
 and exemplary, through his rigid assertion of the rights of the 
 clergy he was continually embroiled with his sovereign, Thomas 
 a Becket pursued a similar course, but with still greater violence. 
 
142 ESSAYS. 
 
 troubles; for the nobility, though they continued 
 loyal unto him, yet did they not cooperate with 
 him in his business ; so that, in effect, he was fain 
 to do all things himself. 
 
 For their second nobles, there is not much danger 
 from them, being a body dispersed. They may 
 sometimes discourse high, but that doth little hurt ; 
 besides, they are a counterpoise to the higher nobil- 
 ity, that they grow not too potent ; and, lastly, 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 
 hundred ^ 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 relig- 
 ion, or their customs, or means of life. 
 
 For their men of war, it is a dangerous state 
 
 1 The great vessel that conveys the blood to the liver, after it 
 has been enriched by the absorption of nutriment from the intes- 
 tines. 
 
 2 This is an expression similar to our proverb, " Penny- wise 
 and pound-foolish." 
 
 3 A subdivision of the shire. 
 
OF COUNSEL. 143 
 
 where they live and remain in a body, and are used 
 to donatives ; whereof we see examples in the Jani- 
 zaries ^ and Praetorian bands of Rome ; but train- 
 ings of men, and arming them in several places, 
 and under several commanders, and without dona- 
 tives, are things of defence and no danger. 
 
 Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause 
 good or evil times ; and which have much venera- 
 tion, but no rest. All precepts concerning kings 
 are in effect comprehended in those two remem- 
 brances, " Memento quod es homo ; '^ and " Me- 
 mento quod es Deus," ^ or " vice Dei ; " ^ the one 
 bridleth their power and the other their will. 
 
 XX. — OF COUNSEL. 
 
 The greatest trust between man and man is the 
 trust of giving counsel ; for in other confidences 
 men commit the parts of life, their lands, their goods, 
 their children, their credit, some particular affair ; 
 but to such as they make their counsellors they 
 com^mit the whole ; by how much the more they 
 
 1 The Janizaries were the body-guards of the Turkish sultans, 
 and enacted the same disgraceful part in making and unmaking 
 monarchs, as the mercenary Prfetorian guards of the Roman 
 Empire. 
 
 2 " Remember that thou art a man." 
 8 "Remember that thou art a God." 
 ^ ** The representative of God." 
 
144 ESSAYS. 
 
 are obliged to all faith and integrity. The wisest 
 princes need not think it any diminution to their 
 greatness, or derogation to their sufficiency to rely 
 upon counsel. God himself is not without, but hath 
 made it one of the great names of his blessed Son, 
 " The Counsellor." ^ Solomon hath pronounced that, 
 " in counsel is stability." ^ Things will have their 
 first or second agitation : if they be not tossed upon 
 the arguments of counsel, they will be tossed upon 
 the waves of fortune, and be full of inconstancy, 
 doing and undoing, like the reeling of a drunken 
 man. Solomon's son ^ found the force of counsel, 
 as his father saw the necessity of it ; for tlie 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 
 forever best discerned, that it was young counsel for 
 the persons, and violent counsel for the matter. 
 
 The ancient times do set forth in figure both the 
 incorporation and inseparable conjunction of counsel 
 with kings, and the wise and politic use of counsel 
 by kings ; the one, in that they say Jupiter did 
 marry Metis, which signifieth counsel ; whereby they 
 intend that sovereignty is married to counsel ; the 
 
 1 Isaiah ix. 6 : " His name shall be called, Wonderful, Coun- 
 sellor, The mighty God, The everlasting Father, The Prince of 
 Peace." 
 
 2 Prov. XX. 18: "Every purpose is established by counsel: 
 and with good advice make war," 
 
 3 The wicked Kehoboam, from whom the ten tribes of Israel 
 revolted, and elected Jeroboam their king. — See 1 Kings xii. 
 
OF COUNSEL. 145 
 
 other in that which followeth, which was thus : they 
 say, after Jupiter was married to Metis, she con- 
 ceived by him and was with child; but Jupiter 
 suffered her not to stay till she brought forth, but 
 eat her up ; whereby he became himself with child, 
 and was delivered of Pallas armed, out of his head.^ 
 Which monstrous fable containeth a secret of empire, 
 how kings are to make use of their council of state ; 
 that first, they ought to refer matters unto them, 
 which is the first begetting or impregnation; but 
 when they are elaborate, moulded, and shaped in 
 the womb of their counsel, and grow ripe and ready 
 to be brought forth, that then they suffer not their 
 council to go through with the resolution and di- 
 rection, as if it depended on them ; but take the mat- 
 ter back into their own hands, and make it appear 
 to the world, that the decrees and final directions 
 (which, 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 speak of the inconveniences of coun- 
 sel, and of the remedies. The inconveniences that 
 have been noted in calling and using counsel are 
 three : first, the revealing of affairs, whereby they 
 become less secret ; secondly, the weakening of the 
 authority of princes, as if they were less of them- 
 selves; thirdly, the danger of being unfaithfully 
 
 1 Hesiod, Theog. 886. 
 10 
 
146 ESSAYS. 
 
 counselled, and more for the good of them that 
 counsel than of him that is counselled ; for which 
 inconveniences, the doctrine of Italy, and practice of 
 France, in some kings' times, hath introduced cabinet 
 councils ; a remedy worse than the disease.^ 
 
 As to secrecy, princes are not bound to commu- 
 nicate 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 them- 
 selves ; and, as for cabinet councils, it may be their 
 motto, " Plenus rimarum sum : " ^ one futile person, 
 that maketh it his glory to tell, will do more hurt 
 than many that know it their duty to conceal. It 
 is true, there be some affairs which require extreme 
 secrecy, which will hardly go beyond one or two 
 persons besides the king. Neither are those coun- 
 sels unprosperous ; for, besides the secrecy, they 
 commonly go on constantly in one spirit of direction 
 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 to be 
 wise men, and especially true and trusty to the 
 king's ends; as it was with King Henry the 
 
 1 The political world has not been convinced of the truth of 
 this doctrine of Lord Bacon ; as cabinet councils are now held 
 probably by every sovereign in Europe. 
 
 2 " I am full of outlets." — Ter. Eun. I. ii. 25. 
 
 8 That is, without a comx)licated machinery of government. 
 
OF COUNSEL. 147 
 
 Seventh of England, who, in his greatest business, 
 imparted himself to none, except it were to 
 Morton^ and Fox.^ 
 
 For weakening of authority, the fable ^ 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 
 fidem super terram," ^ is meant of the nature of 
 times,^ and not of all particular persons. There be 
 
 1 Master of the Rolls and Privy Councillor under Henry VI., 
 to whose cause he faithfully adhered. Edward IV. promoted 
 him to the See of Ely, and made him Lord Chancellor, He was 
 elevated to the See of Canterbury by Henry VII., and in 1493 
 received the Cardinal's hat. 
 
 2 Privy Councillor and Keeper of the Privy Seal to Henry VII., 
 and, after enjoying several bishoprics in succession, translated 
 to the See of Winchester. He was an able statesman, and highly 
 valued by Henry VII. On the accession of Henry VIII. his 
 political influence was counteracted by Wolsey ; on which he 
 retired to his diocese, and devoted the rest of his life to acts of 
 piety and munificence. 
 
 3 Before mentioned, relative to Jupiter and Metis. 
 ^ Remedied. 
 
 ^ "He shall not find faith upon the earth." Lord Bacon 
 probably alludes to the words of our Saviour, St. Luke xviii. 8 : 
 "When the Son of man cometh, shall he find faith upon the 
 earth ? " 
 
 ^ He means to say, that this remark was only applicable to a 
 
148 ESSAYS. 
 
 that are in nature faithful and sincere, and plain 
 and direct, not crafty and involved: let princes, 
 above all, draw to themselves such natures. Be- 
 sides, counsellors are not commonly so united, but 
 that one counsellor keepeth sentinel over another ; 
 so that if any do 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 : — 
 
 " Principis est virtus maxima nosse siios." ^ 
 
 And on the other side, counsellors should not be too 
 speculative into their sovereign's person. The true 
 composition of a counsellor is, rather to be skilful 
 in their master's business than in his nature ; ^ for 
 then he is like to advise him, and not to feed his 
 humor. It is of singular use to princes, if they 
 take the opinions of their council both separately 
 and together; for private opinion is more free, but 
 opinion before others is more reverend. In private, 
 men are more bold in their own humors; and in 
 consort, men are more obnoxious^ to others' hu- 
 mors ; 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 re- 
 spect. It is in vain for princes to take counsel 
 
 particular time, namely, the coming of Christ. The period of 
 the destruction of Jerusalem was probably referred to. 
 
 1 " 'T is the especial virtue of a prince to know his own men." 
 
 2 In his disposition, or inclination. 
 
 3 Liable to opposition from. 
 
OF COUNSEL. 149 
 
 concerning matters, if they take no counsel like- 
 wise concerning persons ; for all matters are as dead 
 images; and the life of the execution of affairs 
 resteth in the good choice of persons. Neither 
 is it enough to consult concerning persons, "secun- 
 dum genera," ^ as in an idea or mathematical de- 
 scription, what the kind and character of the person 
 should be; for the greatest errors are committed, 
 and the most judgment is shown, in the choice of 
 individuals. It was truly said, "Optimi consiliarii 
 mortui : " ^ " books will speak plain when coun- 
 sellors blanch ; " ^ therefore it is good to be con- 
 versant in them, specially the books of such as 
 themselves have been actors upon the stage. 
 
 The councils at this day in most places are but 
 familiar meetings, where matters are rather talked 
 on than debated ; and they run too swift to the 
 order or act of council. It were better that in 
 causes of weight, the matter were propounded one 
 day and not spoken to till the next day ; " In nocte 
 consilium ; " * so was it done in the commission of 
 
 1 "According to classes," or, as we vulgarly say, "in the 
 lump." Lord Bacon means that princes are not, as a matter of 
 course, to take counsellors merely on the presumption of talent, 
 from their rank and station ; but that, on the contrary, they are 
 to select such as are tried men, and with regard to whom there 
 can be no mistake. 
 
 2 "The best counsellors are the dead." 
 2 "Are afraid " to open their mouths. 
 
 * "Night-time for counsel." — ii/ vvkt\ ^ovK-fj. Gaisf. Par. 
 Or. B. 359. 
 
150 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 ripen- 
 inof business for the council, it is better to choose 
 indifferent persons, than to make an indifferency 
 by putting in those that are strong on both sides. 
 I commend, also, standing commissions ; as for trade, 
 for treasure, for war, for suits, for some provinces; 
 for where there be divers particular councils, and 
 but one council of estate (as it is in Spain), they 
 are in effect 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 first heard before committees ; and then, 
 as occasion serves, before the council ; and let them 
 not come in multitudes, or in a tribunitious ^ man- 
 ner ; for that is to clamor 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 effect, sway all the business; but in the 
 
 1 On the accession of James the Sixth of Scotland to the 
 throne of England in 1603. 
 
 2 A phrase much in use with the Eomans, signifying, "to 
 attend to the business in hand." 
 
 3 A tribunitial or declamatory manner. 
 
OF DELAYS. 151 
 
 otlier form there is more use of the counsellors' 
 opinions that sit lower. A king, when he presides 
 in council, let him beware how he opens his own 
 inclination too much in that which he propoundeth ; 
 for else counsellors will but take the wind of him, 
 and, instead of giving free counsel, will sing him a 
 song of " placebo." ^ 
 
 XXL — OF DELAYS. 
 
 Fortune is like the market, where, many times, 
 if you can stay a little, the price will fall ; and again, 
 it is sometimes like Sibylla's ofFer,^ which at first 
 
 1 " I '11 follow the bent of your humor." 
 
 2 The Sibyl alluded to here is the Curaseau, the most cele- 
 brated, who offered the Sibylline Books for sale to Tarquin the 
 Proud. 
 
 **At this time, an unknown woman appeared at court, loaded 
 with nine volumes, which she offered to sell, but at a very con- 
 siderable price. Tarquin refusing to give it, she withdrew and 
 burnt three of the nine. Some time after she returned to court, 
 and demanded the same price for the remaining six. This made 
 her looked upon as a mad woman, and she was driven away with 
 scorn. Nevertheless, having burnt the half of what were left, she 
 came a third time, and demanded for the remaining three the 
 same price which she had asked for the whole nine. The novelty 
 of such a proceeding, made Tarquin curious to have the books 
 examined. They were put, therefore, into the hands of the augurs, 
 who, finding them to be the oracles of the Sybil of Cumce, declared 
 them to be an invaluable treasure. Upon this the woman was paid 
 the sum she demanded, and she soon after disappeared, having first 
 exhorted the Romans to preserve her books with care." — Hookcs 
 Roman History. 
 
152 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 beginnings and onsets 
 of things. Dangers are no more light, if they once 
 seem light; 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 ap- 
 proaches ; for if a man watch too long, it is odds 
 he will fall asleep. On the other side, to be de- 
 ceived with too long shadows (as some have been 
 when the moon was low, and shone on their enemies' 
 back), and so to shoot off before the time ; or to 
 teach dangers to come on by over early buckling 
 towards them, is another extreme. The ripeness or 
 unripeness of the occasion (as we said) must ever be 
 well weighed ; and generally it is good to commit the 
 beginnings of all great actions to Argus with his hun- 
 dred eyes, and the ends to Briareus with his hundred 
 hands, first to watch and then to speed; for the 
 helmet of Pluto,^ which maketh the politic man go 
 invisible, is secrecy in the council, and celerity in 
 
 1 Bald head. He alludes to the common saying: "Take time 
 hy the forelock," 
 
 2 Phaed. viii. 3 Hom. II. v. 845. 
 
OF CUNNING. 153 
 
 the execution ; for wlien things are once come to 
 the execution, there is no secrecy comparable to 
 celerity ; like the motion of a bullet in the air, 
 which flieth so swift as it outruns the eye. 
 
 XXII. — OF CUNXING. 
 
 We take cunning for a sinister, or crooked wis- 
 dom ; and, certainly, there is great difference between 
 a cunning man and a wise man, not only in point of 
 honesty, but in point of ability. There be that can 
 pack the cards,^ and yet cannot play well ; so there 
 are some that are good in canvasses and factions, 
 that are otherwise weak men. Again, it is one 
 thing to understand persons, and another thing to 
 understand matters ; for many are perfect in men's 
 humors that are not greatly capable of the real part 
 of business, which is the constitution of one that 
 hath studied men more than books. Such men are 
 fitter for practice than for counsel, and they are 
 good but in their own alley. Turn them to new 
 men, and they have lost their aim ; so as the old 
 rule, to know a fool from a wise man, "Mitte am- 
 bos nudos ad ignotos, et videbis," ^ doth scarce hold 
 
 1 Packing the cards is an admirable illustration of the author's 
 meaning. It is a cheating exploit, by which knaves, who, per- 
 haps, are inferior players, insure to themselves the certainty of 
 good hands. 
 
 2 "Send them both naked among strangers, and then you will 
 
154 ESSAYS. 
 
 for them ; and, because these cunning men are like 
 haberdashers ^ of small wares, it is not amiss to set 
 forth their shop. 
 
 It is a point of cunning to wait upon ^ him with 
 whom you speak with your eye, as the Jesuits give 
 it in precept ; for there be many wise men that have 
 secret hearts and transparent countenances ; yet this 
 would be done with a demure abasing of your eye 
 sometimes, as the Jesuits also do use. 
 
 Another is, that when you have any thing to obtain 
 of present dispatch, you entertain and amuse the 
 party with whom you deal with some other discourse, 
 that he be not too much awake to make objections. 
 I knew a counsellor and secretary that never came 
 to Queen Elizabeth of England, with bills to sign, 
 but he would always first put her into some discourse 
 of estate,^ that she might the less mind the bills. 
 
 The like surprise may be made by moving things * 
 when the party is in haste, and cannot stay to con- 
 sider advisedly of that is moved. 
 
 If a man would cross a business that he doubts 
 some other would handsomely and effectually move, 
 let him pretend to wish it well, and move it himself, 
 in such sort as may foil it. 
 
 1 This word is used here in its primitive sense of ''retail deal- 
 ers." It is said to have been derived from a custom of the Flem- 
 ings, who first settled in this country in the fourteenth century, 
 stopping the passengers as they passed their shops, and saying to 
 them, "Haber das, herr?"— "Will you take this, sir?" The 
 word is now generally used as synonymous with linen-draper. 
 
 2 To watch. 
 
 3 State. * Discussing matters. 
 
OF CUNNING. 155 
 
 The breaking off in the midst of that one was 
 about to say, as if he took himself up, breeds a 
 greater appetite in him with whom you confer to 
 know more. 
 
 And because it works better when any thing 
 seemeth to be gotten from you by question than if 
 you offer it of yourself, you may lay a bait for a 
 question, by showing another visage and counte- 
 nance than you are wont ; to the end, to give occa. 
 sion for the party to ask what the matter is of the 
 change, as Nehemiah^ did : " And I had not, before 
 that time, been sad before the king." 
 
 In things that are tender and unpleasing, it is 
 good to break the ice by some whose words are of 
 less weight, and to reserve the more weighty voice 
 to come in as by chance, so that he may be asked 
 the question upon the other's speech; as Narcissus 
 did, in relathig to Claudius the marriage ^ of Messa- 
 lina and Silius. 
 
 In things that a man would not be seen in himself, 
 it is a point of cunning to borrow the name of the 
 
 1 He refers to the occasion when Nehemiah, on presenting the 
 wine, as cup-bearer to King Artaxerxes, appeared sorrowful, and, 
 on being asked the reason of it, entreated the king to allow Jeru- 
 salem to be rebuilt. — Nehemiah ii. 1. 
 
 2 This can hardly be called a marriage, as, at the time of the 
 intrigue, Messalina was the wife of Claudius ; but she forced Cains 
 Silius, of whom she was deeply enamored, to divorce his own wife, 
 that she herself might enjoy his society. The intrigue was dis- 
 closed to Claudius by Narcissus, who was his freedman, and the 
 pander to his infamous vices ; on which Silius was put to death. 
 Vide Tac. Ann. xi. 29, seq. 
 
156 ESSAYS. 
 
 world ; as to say, " The world says," or " There is a 
 speech abroad." 
 
 I knew one, tliat when he wrote a letter, he would 
 put that which was most material in a postscript, as 
 if it had been a by-matter. 
 
 I knew another, that when he came to have 
 speech,^ he would pass over that that he intended 
 most ; and go forth and come back again, and speak 
 of it as a thing that he had almost forgot. 
 
 Some procure themselves to be surprised at such 
 times as it is like the party that they work upon will 
 suddenly come upon them, and to be found with a 
 letter in their hand, or doing somewhat which they 
 are not accustomed, to the end they may be apposed 
 of'^ those things which of themselves they are de- 
 sirous to utter. 
 
 It is a point of cunning to let fall those words 
 in a man's own name, which he would have another 
 man learn and use, and thereupon take advantage. 
 I knew two that were competitors for the secretary's 
 place in Queen Elizabeth's time, and yet kept good 
 quarter ^ between themselves, and would confer one 
 with another upon the business ; and the one of 
 them said, that to be a secretary in the declination 
 of a monarchy was a ticklish thing, and that he did 
 not affect it ; * the other straight caught up those 
 words, and discoursed with divers of his friends, that 
 he had no reason to desire to be secretary in the 
 
 1 To speak in his turn. 2 gg questioned upon. 
 
 ^ Kept on good terms. * Desire it. 
 
OF CUNNING. 157 
 
 declination of a monarchy. The first man took hold 
 of it, and found means it was told the queen, who, 
 hearing of a declination of a monarchy, took it so ill, 
 as she would never after hear of the other's suit. 
 
 There is a cunning, which we in England call 
 " the turning of the cat in the pan ; " which is, 
 when that which a man says to another, he lays it 
 as if another had said it to him ; and, to say truth, 
 it is not easy, when such a matter passed between 
 two, to make it appear from which of them it first 
 moved and began. 
 
 It is a way that some men have, to glance and 
 dart at others by justifying themselves by nega- 
 tives ; as to say, " This I do not ; " as Tigellinus 
 did towards Burrhus : " Se non diversas spes, sed 
 incolumitatem imperatoris simpliciter spectare." ^ 
 
 Some have in readiness so many tales and stories, 
 as there is nothing they would insinuate, but they 
 can wrap it into a tale ; ^ which serveth both to 
 keep themselves more in guard, and to make others 
 carry it with more pleasure. 
 
 It is a good point of cunning for a man to shape 
 the answer he would have in his own words and 
 propositions; for it makes the other party stick the 
 less. 
 
 1 **That he did not have various hopes in view, hut solely the 
 safety of the emperor." Tigellinus was the profligate minister 
 of Nero, and Africanus Burrhus was the chief of the Praetorian 
 Guards. — Tac. Ann. xiv. 57. 
 
 2 As Nathan did, when he reproved David for his criminality 
 with Bathsheba. — 2 Samuel xii. 
 
158 ESSAYS. 
 
 It is strange how long some men will lie in wait 
 to speak somewhat they desire to say ; and how far 
 about they will fetch/ and how many other matters 
 they will beat over to come near it. It is a thing 
 of great patience, but yet of much use. 
 
 A sudden, bold, and unexpected question doth 
 many times surprise a man, and lay him open. Like 
 to him, that, having changed his name, and walking 
 in Paul's,^ another suddenly came behind him and 
 called him by his true name, whereat straightways 
 he looked back. 
 
 But these small wares and petty points of cun- 
 ning are infinite, and it were a good deed to make 
 a list of them ; for that nothing doth more hurt in a 
 state than that cunning men pass for wise. 
 
 But certainly, some there are that know the re- 
 sorts^ and falls ^ of business that cannot sink into 
 the main of it ; ^ like a house that hath convenient 
 stairs and entries, but never a fair room. There- 
 fore you shall see them find out pretty looses^ in 
 the conclusion, but are noways able to examine or 
 debate matters j and yet commonly they take ad- 
 vantage of their inability, and would be thought 
 wits of direction. Some build rather upon the 
 
 1 Use indirect stratagems. 
 
 2 He alludes to the old Cathedral of St. Paul, in London, Avhich, 
 in the sixteenth centur}*, was a common lounge for idlers. 
 
 ^ Movements, or sj)rings. 
 * Chances, or vicissitudes. 
 fi Enter deeply into. 
 ^ Faults, or weak points. 
 
OF WISDOM FOR A MAN'S SELF. 159 
 
 abusing of others, and (as we now say) putting 
 tricks upon them, than upon soundness of their own 
 proceedings ; but Solomon saith : " Prudens advertit 
 ad gressus suos ; stultus divertit ad dolos." ^ 
 
 XXIIL— OF WISDOM FOR A MAN'S SELF. 
 
 An ant is a wise creature for itself, but it is a 
 shrewd '^ thing in an orchard or garden ; and cer- 
 tainly, 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 others, specially to thy king and coun- 
 try. It is a poor centre of a man's actions, himself. 
 It is right earth ; for that only stands fast upon his 
 own centre ; ^ whereas all things that have affinity 
 with the heavens, move upon the centre of another, 
 which they benefit. The referring of all to a man's 
 self is more tolerable in a sovereign prince, because 
 themselves 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 
 
 1 " The wise man gives heed to his own footsteps ; the fool tum- 
 eth aside to tlie snare." No doubt he here alludes to Ecclesiastes 
 xiv. 2, whicli passage is thus rendered in our version : "The wise 
 man's eyes are in his head ; but the fool walketh in darkness." 
 
 '^ Mischievous. 
 
 ^ It must be remembered that Bacon was not a fororer of the 
 Copernican system. 
 
160 ESSAYS. 
 
 a citizen in a republic ; for whatsoever affairs pass 
 such a man's hands, he crooketh them to his own 
 ends, w^hich must needs be often eccentric to the 
 ends of his master or state. Therefore, let princes 
 or states choose such servants as have not this mark ; 
 except they mean their service should be made but 
 the accessary. That which maketh the effect more 
 pernicious is, that all proportion is lost. It were 
 disproportion enough for the servant's good to be 
 preferred before the master's; but yet it is a greater 
 extreme, when a little good of the servant shall carry 
 things against a great good of the master. And 
 yet that is the case of bad officers, treasurers, am- 
 bassadors, generals, and other false and corrupt 
 servants ; which set a bias upon their bowl, of their 
 own petty ends and envies, to the overthrow of 
 their 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 fire, 
 an it were but to roast their eggs ; and yet these 
 men many times hold credit with their masters, 
 because their study is but to please them, and profit 
 themselves ; and for either respect they will abandon 
 the good of their affairs. 
 
 Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches 
 thereof, a depraved thing. It is the "svisdom of rats, 
 that will be sure to leave a house somewhat before 
 
OF INNOVATIONS. 161 
 
 it fall ; it is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out 
 the badger who digged and made room for him ; it 
 is the wisdom of crocodiles, that shed tears when 
 they would devour. 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 
 times sacrificed to themselves, they become in the 
 end themselves sacrifices to the inconstancy of for- 
 tune, whose wings they thought by their self-wisdom 
 to have pinioned. 
 
 XXIV. — OF INXOVATIONS. 
 
 As the births of living creatures at first are ill- 
 shapen, so are all innovations, which are the births 
 of time ; yet, notwithstanding, as those that first 
 bring honor into their family are commonly more 
 worthy than most that succeed, so the first prece- 
 dent (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 2 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, 
 
 1 "Lovers of themselves without a rival." — Ad. Qu. Fr. iii. 8. 
 ^ Remedy. 
 
162 ESSAYS. 
 
 alter things to the worse, and wisdom and counsel 
 shall not alter them to the better, what shall be 
 the end ? It is true, that what is settled by custom, 
 though it be not good, yet, at least, it is fit; and 
 those things which have long gone together, are, 
 as it were, confederate within themselves ; ^ whereas 
 new things piece not so well ; but, though they help 
 by their utility, yet they trouble by their in confor- 
 mity ; besides, they are like strangers, more admired 
 and less favored. 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 un- 
 looked for, and ever it mends some and pairs ^ other ; 
 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 experiments in states, except the necessity 
 be urgent, or the utility evident ; and well to beware 
 that it be the reformation that draweth on the 
 change, and not the desire of change that pretendeth 
 the reformation ; and lastly, that the novelty, though 
 it be not rejected, yet be held for a suspect,^ and, as 
 
 1 Adapted to each other. 2 Injures or impairs. 
 
 3 A thing suspected. 
 
OF DISPATCH. 163 
 
 the Scripture saith, "That we make a stand upon 
 the ancient way, and then look about us, and dis- 
 cover what is the straight and right way, and so 
 to walk in it.^ 
 
 XXV. — OF DISPATCH. 
 
 Affected dispatch is one of the most dangerous 
 things to business that can be ; it is like that which 
 the physicians call predigestion, or hasty digestion, 
 which is sure to fill the body full of crudities, and 
 secret seeds of diseases. Therefore, measure not 
 dispatch by the times 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, the 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 busi- 
 ness, because they may seem men of dispatch ; but 
 it is one thing to abbreviate by contracting,^ another 
 by cutting off; and business so handled at several 
 sittings, or meetings, goeth commonly backward and 
 forward in an unsteady manner. I knew a wise 
 
 1 He probably alludes to Jeremiah vi. 16: "Thus saith the 
 Lord, Stand ye in the ways, and see, and ask for the old paths, 
 where is the good way, and walk therein, and ye shall find rest 
 for your souls." 
 
 2 That is, by means of good management. 
 
164 ESSAYS. 
 
 man ^ that had it for a byword, when he saw men 
 hasten to a conclusion, " Sta}^ 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 Span- 
 iards have been noted to be of small dispatch : '' ]Mi 
 venga la muerte de Spagna ; " " Let my death come 
 from Spain ; " for then it will be sure to be long 
 in coming. 
 
 Give good hearing to those that give the first 
 information in business, and rather direct them in 
 the beginning, than interrupt them in the continu- 
 ance of their speeches ; for he that is put out of 
 his own order w^ill go forward and backward, and 
 be more tedious while he waits upon his memory, 
 than 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 gain of time as to iterate often the state 
 of the question ; for it chaseth away many a frivo- 
 lous speech as it is coming forth. Long and cu- 
 rious speeches are as fit for dispatch as a robe, or 
 mantle, with a long train, is for a race. Prefaces, 
 and passages,^ and excusations,^ and other speeches 
 
 1 It is supposed that he here alludes to Sir Amyas Paulet, a very- 
 able statesman, and the ambassador of Queen Elizabeth to the 
 court of France. 
 
 2 Quotations. ^ Apologies. 
 
OF DISPATCH. 165 
 
 of reference to the person, are great wastes of time ; 
 and tliough 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 preoccupation of mind ^ ever re- 
 quiretli preface of speech, like a fomentation to make 
 the unguent enter. 
 
 Above all things, order and distribution, and sin- 
 gling out of parts, is the life of dispatch, so as the 
 distribution be not too subtile ; for he that doth not 
 divide will never enter well into business ; and he 
 that divideth too much will never come out of it 
 clearly. To choose time is to save time; and an 
 unseasonable motion is but beating the air. There 
 be three parts of business, — the preparation ; the 
 debate, or examination ; and the perfection. Where- 
 of, 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 direction than an in- 
 definite, as ashes are more generative than dust. 
 
 1 Boasting. 2 Prejudice. 
 
166 ESSAYS. 
 
 XXVI. — OF SEEMING WISE. 
 
 It hath been an opinion, that the French are 
 wiser than they seem, and the Spaniards seem wiser 
 than they are ; but howsoever it be between na- 
 tions, certainly it is so between man and man ; for, 
 as the apostle saith of godliness, " Having a show 
 of godliness, but denying the power thereof, " ^ so 
 certainly there are, in points of wisdom and suffi- 
 ciency, that do nothing, or little very solemnly, — 
 " magno conatu nugas." ^ It is a ridiculous thing, 
 and fit for a satire to persons of judgment, to see 
 what shifts these formalists have, and what pro- 
 spectives to make superficies to seem body, that hath 
 depth and bulk. Some are so close and reserved, 
 as they will not show their wares but by a dark 
 light, and seem always to keep back somewhat ; 
 and when they know within themselves they speak 
 of that they do not well know, would nevertheless 
 seem to others to know of that which they may 
 not well speak. Some help themselves with coun- 
 tenance and gesture, and are wise by signs ; as 
 Cicero saith of Piso, that when he answered him, he 
 fetched one of his brows up to his forehead, and 
 bent the other down to his chin : " Respondes, altero 
 ad frontem sublato, altero ad mentum depresso 
 
 1 2 Tim. iii. 5. 
 
 2 "Trifles ^ith great effort." 
 
OF SEEMING WISE. 167 
 
 supercilio ; criiclelitatem tibi iion placere." ^ Some 
 think to bear it by speaking a great word, and being 
 peremptory ; and go on, and take by admittance that 
 which they cannot make good. Some, whatsoever 
 is beyond their reach, will seem to despise or make 
 light of it as impertinent or curious, and so would 
 have their ignorance seem judgment. Some are 
 never Avithout a difference, and commonly by amus- 
 ing men with a subtilty, blanch the matter ; of whom 
 A. Gellius saith, "Hominem delirum, qui verborum 
 minutiis rerum frangit pondera."^ Of which kind 
 also Plato, in his Protagoras, bringeth in Prodicus 
 in scorn, and maketh him make a speech that con- 
 sisteth of distinctions from the beginning to the end.^ 
 Generally such men, in all deliberations, find ease 
 to be^ of the negative side, and affect a credit to 
 object and foretell difficulties ; for when propositions 
 are denied, there is an end of them, but if they be 
 allowed, it requireth a new work ; which false point 
 of wisdom is the bane of business. To conclude, 
 there is no decaying merchant, or inward beggar,^ 
 
 1 "With one brow raised to your forehead, the other bent 
 downward to your chin, you answer that cruelty delights you 
 not." — In Pis. 6. 
 
 2 "A foolish man, who fritters away the weight of matters by 
 finespun trifling on words." — Vide Quint, x. 1. 
 
 3 Plat. Protag. i. 337. 
 
 * Find it easier to make difficulties and objections than to 
 originate. 
 
 5 One really in insolvent circumstances, though to the world 
 he does not appear so. 
 
168 ESSAYS. 
 
 hath so many tricks to uphold the credit of their 
 wealth, as these empty persons have to maintain 
 the credit of their sufficiency. Seeming wise men 
 may make shift to get opinion, but let no man 
 choose them for employment ; for certainly, you 
 were better take for business a man somewhat 
 absurd than over-formal. 
 
 XXYIL — OF FRIENDSHIP. 
 
 It had been hard for him that spake it, to have 
 put more truth and untruth together in few words 
 than in that speech : " Whosoever is delighted in 
 solitude, is either a wild beast or a god : " ^ for it is 
 most true, that a natural and secret hatred and 
 aversion towards society in any man hath somewhat 
 of the savage beast ; but it is most untrue, that it 
 should have any character at all of the divine nature, 
 except it proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, 
 but out of a love and desire to sequester a man's self 
 for a higher conversation ; such as is found to have 
 been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathen ; 
 as Epimenides,^ the Candian ; Numa, the Roman ; 
 
 1 He here quotes from a passage in the Politica of Aristotle, 
 book i. **He who is unable to mingle in society, or who requires 
 nothing, by reason of sufficing for himself, is no part of the state, 
 so that he is either a wild beast or a divinity." 
 
 2 Epimenides, a poet of Crete (of which Candia is the modern 
 name), is said by Pliny to have fallen into a sleep which lasted 
 
OF FRIENDSHIP. 169 
 
 Empedocles, the Sicilian ; and Apollonius, of Tyana ; 
 and truly and really in divers of the ancient hermits 
 and holy fathers of the church. But little do men 
 perceive what solitude is, and how far it extendeth ; 
 for a crowd is not company, and faces are but a 
 gallery of pictures, and talk but a tinkling cymbal, 
 where there is no love. The Latin adage meeteth 
 with it a little : '' Magna civitas, magna solitudo : " ^ 
 because in a great town friends are scattered, so that 
 there is not that fellowship, for the most part, which 
 is in less neighborhoods : but we may go further, 
 and affirm most truly, that it is a mere and miserable 
 solitude to want true friends, without which the 
 world is but a wilderness; and even in this sense 
 also of solitude, whosoever in the frame of his nature 
 and affections is unfit for friendship, he taketh it of 
 the beasts, and not from humanity. 
 
 A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and dis- 
 charge of the fulness and swellings of the heart, 
 
 57 years. He was also said to have lived 299 years. Numa 
 pretended that he was instructed in the art of legislation by the 
 divine nymph Egeria, who dwelt in the Arician grove. Emped- 
 oeles, the Sicilian philosopher, declared himself to be immortal, 
 and to be able to cure all evils. He is said by some to have 
 retired from society that his death might not be known, and to 
 have thrown himself into the crater of INIount ^tna. Apollonius 
 of Tyana, the Pythagorean philosopher, pretended to miraculous 
 powers, and after his death a temple was erected to him at that 
 place. His life is recorded by Philostratus; and some persons, 
 among whom are Hierocles, Dr. More, in his Mystery of Godliness, 
 and recently Strauss, have not hesitated to compare his miracles 
 with those of our Saviour. 
 
 1 " A great city, a great desert." 
 
170 ESSAYS. 
 
 which passions of all kinds do cause and induce. 
 We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are 
 the most dangerous in the body, and it is not much 
 otherwise in the mind. You may take sarza ^ to 
 open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flower of 
 sulphur for the lungs, castoreum ^ for the brain, but 
 no receipt openeth the heart but a true friend, to 
 whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, 
 suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the 
 heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or 
 confession. 
 
 It is a strange thing to observe how high a rate 
 great kings and monarchs do set upon this fruit of 
 friendship whereof we speak ; so great, as they pur- 
 chase 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 ser- 
 vants, cannot gather this fruit, except (to make them- 
 selves capable thereof) they raise some persons to be 
 as it were companions, and almost equals to them- 
 selves, which many times sorteth to inconvenience. 
 The modern languages give unto such persons the 
 name of favorites, or privadoes, as if it were matter 
 of grace or conversation ; but the Roman name at- 
 taineth the true use and cause thereof, naming them 
 " participes curarum ; " ^ for it is that which tietli 
 the knot. And we see plainly that this hath been 
 
 1 Sarsaparilla. 
 
 2 A liquid matter of a pungent smell, extracted from a portion of 
 the body of the beaver. 
 
 ^ " Partakers of cares." 
 
OF FRIENDSHIP. 171 
 
 done, not by weak and passionate princes only, but 
 by the wisest and most politic that ever reigned, who 
 have oftentimes 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. 
 
 L. Sylla, when he commanded Rome, raised Pom- 
 pey (after surnamed the Great) to that height, that 
 Pompey vaunted himself for Sylla's overmatch ; for 
 when he had carried the consulship for a friend of 
 his, against the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a 
 little resent thereat, and began to speak great, Pom- 
 pey 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 that interest, as he set him 
 down in his testament for heir in remainder after his 
 nephew ; and this was the man that had power with 
 him to draw him forth to his death ; for when Csesar 
 would have discharged the senate, in regard of some 
 ill presages, and specially a dream of Cali)hurnia, 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 dreamt a better dream ; ^ and it 
 seemeth his favor was so great, as Antonius, in a 
 letter which is recited verbatim in one of Cicero's 
 
 1 Plutarch {Fit. Pomp. 19) relates that Pompey said this upon 
 Sylla's refusal to give him a triumph. 
 
 2 Plut. Vit. J. Cses. 64. 
 
172 ESSAYS. 
 
 Philippics, calleth him venefica, "witch," as if he 
 had enchanted Caesar.^ Augustus raised Agrippa 
 (thougli of mean birth) to that height, as, when he 
 consulted with Mgecenas 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 Csesar, Se- 
 janus had ascended to that height, as they two were 
 termed and reckoned as a pair of friends. Tiberius, 
 in a letter to him, saith, " Hsec 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 Septimius Severus 
 and Plautianus ; for he forced his eldest son to 
 marry the daughter of Plautianus, and would often 
 maintain Plautianus in doing affronts to his son ; 
 and did write, also, in a letter to the senate, by these 
 words : " I love the man so well, as I wish he may 
 over-live me." ^ Now, if these princes had been as a 
 Trajan, or a INIarcus 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 
 
 1 Cic. Philip, xiii. 11. 
 
 2 " These things, hy reason of our friendship, I have not con- 
 cealed /ro?n you.'' — Vide Tac. Ann. iv. 40. 
 
 3 Dio Cass. Ixxv. 
 
 * Such infamous men as Tiberius and Sejanus hardly deserve this 
 commendation. 
 
OF FRIENDSHIP. 173 
 
 of themselves, as all these were, it proveth most 
 plainly that they found their own felicity (though as 
 great as ever happened to mortal men) but as an 
 half-piece, except they might have a friend to make 
 it entire ; and yet, which is more, they were princes 
 that had wives, sons, nephews ; and yet all these 
 could not supply the comfort of friendship. 
 
 It is not to be forgotten what Comineus ^ observ- 
 eth of his first master, Duke Charles the Hardy ,2 
 namely, that he would communicate his secrets with 
 none, and, least of all, those secrets which troubled 
 him most. Whereupon he goeth on, and saith, that 
 towards his latter time, that closeness did impair 
 and a little perish his understanding. Surely, Comi- 
 neus might have made the same judgment, also, if 
 it had pleased him, of his second master, Louis the 
 Eleventh, whose closeness was indeed his tormentor. 
 The parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true : " Cor 
 ne edito,' " eat not the heart." ^ Certainly, if a 
 
 1 Philip de Comines. 
 
 2 Charles the Bold, Duke of Burgundy, the valiant antagonist 
 of Louis XI. of France. De Comines spent his early years at 
 his court, but afterwards passed into the service of Louis XL 
 This monarch was notorious for his cruelty, treachery, and dis- 
 simulation, and had all the bad qualities of his contemporary, Ed- 
 ward IV. of England, without any of his redeeming virtues. 
 
 3 Pythagoras went still further than this, as he forbade his 
 disciples to eat flesh of any kind whatever. See the interesting 
 speech which Ovid attributes to him in the fifteenth book of the 
 Metamorphoses. Sir Thomas Browne, in his Pseudoxia [Browne s 
 Works, Bohn's Antiq, ed. vol. i. p. 27, et scq.), gives some curious 
 explanations of the doctrines of this philosojiher. — Flut. de Educat. 
 Puer. 17. 
 
174 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 friend- 
 ship), which is, that this communicating of a man's 
 self to his friend works two contrary effects, for it 
 redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves ; 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, in truth, of operation upon a man's 
 mind of like virtue as the alchemists used to attrib- 
 ute to their stone for man's body, that it worketh all 
 contrary effects, but still to the good and benefit of 
 nature. But yet, without praying in aid of al- 
 chemists, 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, wep^keneth and dulieth any 
 violent impression ; and even so it is of minds. 
 
 The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sov- 
 ereign for the understanding, as the first is for the 
 affections; for friendship maketh indeed a fair day 
 in the affections from storm and tempests, but it 
 maketh daylight in the understanding, out of dark- 
 ness and confusion of thoughts. Neither is this to 
 be understood only of faithful counsel, which a man 
 receiveth from his friend ; but before you come 
 to that, certain it is, that whosoever hath his 
 mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits and 
 
OF FRIENDSHIP. I75 
 
 understanding do clarify and break up in the commu- 
 nicating and discoursing with another ; he tosscth 
 his thoughts more easily ; he marshalleth them more 
 orderly ; he seeth how they look when they are 
 turned into words ; finally, he waxeth wiser than 
 himself ; and that more by an hour's discourse than 
 by a day's meditation. It was well said by The- 
 mistocles 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 under- 
 standing, restrained 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 thoughts 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 suffer his thoughts to pass in 
 smother. 
 
 Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship 
 complete, that other point which lieth more open, 
 and falleth within vulgar observation ; which is 
 faithful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus saith 
 well, in one of his enigmas, " Dry light is ever the 
 best ; " 2 and certain it is, that the light that a man 
 
 1 Tapestry. Speaking hypercritically, Lord Bacon commits an 
 anachronism here, as Arras did not manufacture tapestry till the 
 middle ages. 
 
 2 Plut. Vit. Themist. 28. 
 6 Ap. Stob. Serm. v. 120. 
 
176 ESSAYS. 
 
 receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and 
 purer than that which cometh from his own under- 
 standing and judgment, which is ever infused and 
 drenched in his affections and customs. So, as there 
 is as much difference between the counsel that a 
 friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there 
 is between the counsel of a friend and of a flatterer ; 
 for there is no such flatterer as is a man's self, and 
 there is no such remedy against flattery of a man's 
 self, as the liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two 
 sorts, — the one concerning manners, the other con- 
 cerning 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 sometimes too piercing and 
 corrosive ; reading good books of morality is a little 
 flat and dead ; observing our faults in others is 
 sometimes improper for our case ; but the best re- 
 ceipt (best, I. say, to work, and best to take), is the 
 admonition of a friend. It is a strange thing to 
 behold what gross errors and extreme absurdities 
 many (especially of the greater sort) do commit 
 for want of a friend to tell them of them, to the 
 great damage both of their fame and fortune ; for, 
 as St. James saith, they are as men "that look 
 sometimes into a glass, and presently forget their 
 own shape and favor." ^ 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 
 
 1 James i. 23. 
 
OF FRIENDSHIP. I77 
 
 than a looker-on ; or, that a man in anger is as wise 
 as he that has said over the four and twenty let- 
 ters ; ^ or, that a musket may be shot off as w^ell 
 upon the arm as uj^on a rest ; ^ and such other fond 
 and high imaginations, to think himself all in all ; 
 but when all is done, the help of good counsel is 
 that which setteth business straight. And if any 
 man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be 
 by pieces, asking counsel in one business of one 
 man, and in another business of another man ; it is 
 well (that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he 
 asked none at all) ; but he runneth two dangers, — 
 one, that he shall not be faithfully counselled ; for 
 it is a rare thing, except it be from a perfect and 
 entire friend, to have counsel given, but such as 
 shall be bowed and crooked to some ends which he 
 hath that giveth it ; the other, that he shall have 
 counsel given, hurtful and unsafe (though with good 
 meaning), and mixed partly of mischief, and partly 
 of remedy ; even as if you would call a physician, 
 that is thought good for the cure of the disease you 
 complain of, but is unacquainted with your body ; 
 and, therefore, may put you in a way for a present 
 cure, but overthroweth your health in some other 
 kind, and so cure the disease and kill the patient. 
 
 1 He alludes to the recommendation which moralists have often 
 given, that a i3erson in anger should go through the alphabet to 
 himself, before he allows himself to speak. 
 
 2 In his day, the musket was fixed upon a stand, called the 
 "rest," much as the gingals or matchlocks are used in the East at 
 the present da3^ 
 
 12 
 
178 ESSAYS. 
 
 But a friend, that is wholly acquainted with a 
 man's estate, will beware, by furthering any present 
 business, how he dasheth upon other inconvenience ; 
 and, therefore, rest not upon scattered counsels ; 
 they will rather distract and mislead, than settle 
 and direct. 
 
 After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace 
 in the affections, and support of the judgment), 
 followeth the last fruit, which is like the pomegran- 
 ate, 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 friend- 
 ship, 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 bestowing 
 of a child, the finishing of a work, or the like. If 
 a man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure 
 that the care of those things will continue after him ; 
 so that a man hath, as it were, two lives in his de- 
 sires. A man hath a body, and that body is con- 
 fined 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. Ho^v 
 many things are there, which a man cannot, with 
 any face or comeliness, say or do himself? A man 
 can scarce allege his own merits with modesty. 
 
OF EXPENSE. 179 
 
 much less extol them; a man cannot sometimes 
 brook to supplicate, or beg, and a number of the 
 like ; but all those things 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 
 which 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; I have given the rule, where a man 
 cannot fitly play his own part. If he have not a 
 friend, he may quit the stage. 
 
 xxviiL— OF expe:n^se. 
 
 Riches are for spending, and spending for honor 
 and good actions ; therefore, extraordinary expense 
 must be limited by the worth of the occasion ; for 
 voluntary undoing may be as well for a man's coun- 
 try 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 com- 
 pass, 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 
 
180 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 to bring them- 
 selves into melancholy, in respect they shall find it 
 broken ; but wounds cannot be cured without search- 
 ing. He that cannot look into his own estate at 
 all, had need both choose well those whom he em- 
 ployeth, and change them often ; for new are more 
 timorous, and less subtle. He that can look into 
 his estate but seldom, it behooveth 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. In 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 will revert to his 
 customs ; but he that cleareth by degrees induceth 
 a habit of frugality, and gaineth as well upon his 
 mind as upon his estate. Certainly, who hath a 
 state to repair, may not despise small things ; and, 
 commonly, it is less dishonorable to abridge petty 
 
 1 From debts and incumbrances. 
 
OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 181 
 
 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. 
 
 XXIX. — OF THE TRUE GREATNESS OF KING- 
 DOMS AND ESTATES. 
 
 The speech of Themistocles, the Athenian, which 
 was haughty and arrogant, in taking so much to 
 himself, had been a grave and wise observation and 
 censure, applied at large to others. Desired at a 
 feast to touch a lute, he said, '' He could not fiddle, 
 but yet he could make a small town a great city." ^ 
 These words (holpen a little with a metaphor) may 
 express two different 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 gov- 
 ernors gain both favor with their masters and 
 
 1 Plut. Vit. Themist. ad init. 
 
182 ESSAYS. 
 
 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. There are also (no doubt) counsellors 
 and governors which may be held sufficient, " nego- 
 tiis pares," ^ able to manage affairs, and to keep 
 them from precipices and manifest inconveniences; 
 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 argument 
 fit for great and mighty princes to have in their 
 hand ; to the end, that neither by overmeasuring 
 their forces, they lose themselves in vain enterprises : 
 nor, on the other side, by undervaluing them, they 
 descend to fearful and pusillanimous counsels. 
 
 The greatness of an estate, in bulk and territory, 
 doth fall under measure ; and the greatness of 
 finances and revenue doth fall under 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 anything 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 
 
 1 « 
 
 Equal to business.* 
 
OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 183 
 
 a grain of mustard-seed ; ^ which 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 apt to be the foundations of great mon- 
 archies. 
 
 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 is 
 of weak courage ; for, as Virgil saith, " It never 
 troubles a wolf how many the sheep be."^ The 
 army of the Persians in the plains of Arbela was 
 such a vast sea of people, as it did somewhat as- 
 tonish the commanders in Alexander's army, who 
 came to him, therefore, and wished him to set upon 
 them by night ; but he answered, ^' He would not 
 pilfer the victory;" and the defeat was easy.^ — 
 When Tigranes,* the Armenian, being encamped 
 
 1 He alludes to the following passage, St. Matthew xiii. 31 : 
 *' Another parable put he forth unto them, saying. The kingdom 
 of heaven is like to a grain of mustard-seed, which a man took and 
 sowed in his field ; wliich indeed is the least of all seeds ; but when 
 it is grown, it is the greatest among herbs, and becometh a tree, 
 so that the birds of the air come and lodge in the branches thereof." 
 
 2 Virg. Eel. vii. 51. ^ vide. A. L. i. vii. 11. 
 
 4 He was vanquished by Lucullus, and finally submitted to 
 Pompey. — Plut. Vit. LuculL 27. 
 
184 ESSAYS. 
 
 upon a hill with four hundred thousand men, dis- 
 covered the army of the Romans, being not above 
 fourteen thousand, marching towards him, he made 
 himself merry with it, and said, " Yonder men are 
 too many for an ambassage, and too few for a fight ; " 
 but before the sun set, he found them enow to give 
 him the chase with infinite slaughter. Many are 
 the examples of the great odds between number and 
 courage; so that a man may truly make a judgment, 
 that the principal point of greatness in any state is 
 to have a race of military men. Neither is money 
 the sinews of war (as it is trivially said), where the 
 sinews of men's arms, in base and effeminate people, 
 are failing: for Solon said well to Croesus (when 
 in ostentation he showed him his gold), " Sir, if any 
 other come that hath better iron than you, he will 
 be master of all this gold." Therefore, let any prince 
 or state, think soberly of his forces, except his mil- 
 itia of natives be of good and valiant soldiers ; and 
 let princes, on the other side, that have subjects of 
 martial disposition, know their own strength, unless 
 they be otherwise 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 blesshig of Judah and Issachar^ will never 
 
 1 He alludes to the prophetic words of Jacob on his death-hed, 
 Gen. xlix, 9, 14, 15 : '-Judah is a lion's whelp; ... he stooped 
 down, he couched as a lion, and as an old lion. . . . Issachar is 
 
OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 185 
 
 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 conclude, that no people overcharged 
 with tribute is fit for empire. 
 
 Let states that aim at greatness take heed how 
 their nobility and gentlemen do multiply too fast ; 
 for that maketh the common subject grow to be a 
 peasant and base swain, driven out of heart, and, 
 in effect, but the gentleman's laborer. Even as you 
 may see in coppice woods ; if you leave your stad- 
 dles^ too thick, you shall never have clean under- 
 wood, but shrubs and bushes. So in countries, if 
 the gentlemen be too many, the commons will be 
 base ; and you will bring it to that, that not the 
 
 a strong ass couching down between two burdens : And lie saw 
 that rest was good, and the land that it was pleasant ; and bowed 
 his shoulder to bear, and became a servant unto tribute." 
 
 1 Sums of money voluntarily contributed by the people for the 
 use of the sovereign. 
 
 2 Younff trees. 
 
186 ESSAYS. 
 
 hundred poll will be fit for a helmet, especially as 
 to the infantry, which is the nerve of an army ; 
 and so there will be great population and little 
 strength. This which I speak of, hath been nowhere 
 better seen than by comparing of England and 
 France ; whereof England, though far less in terri- 
 tory and population, hath been, nevertheless, an 
 overmatch ; in regard, the middle people of Eng- 
 land make good soldiers, which the peasants of 
 France do not. And herein the device of King 
 Henry the Seventh (whereof I have spoken largely 
 in the history of his life) was profound and admira- 
 ble ; in making farms and houses of husbandry of 
 a standard, that is, maintained with such a propor- 
 tion 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 an- 
 cient Italy: — 
 
 " Terra potens armis atque ubere glebse." ^ 
 
 Neither is that state (which, for anything I know, 
 is almost peculiar to England, and hardly to be 
 found anywhere else, except it be, perhaps, in Po- 
 land), to be passed over; I mean the state of free 
 servants and attendants upon noblemen and gentle- 
 men, which are noways inferior unto the yeomanry 
 
 1 "A land strong in arms and in the richness of the soil." — 
 Virg. ^n. i. 535. 
 
OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 187 
 
 for arms; and, therefore, out of all question, the 
 splendor and magnificence, and great retinues, and 
 hospitality of noblemen and gentlemen received into 
 custom, do much conduce unto martial greatness; 
 whereas, contrariwise, the close and reserved living 
 of noblemen and gentlemen causeth a penury of 
 military forces. 
 
 By all means, it is to be procured that the trunk 
 of Nebuchadnezzar's tree of monarchy ^ be great 
 enough to bear the branches and the boughs ; that 
 is, that the natural subjects of the crown, or state, 
 bear a sufficient proportion to the stranger subjects 
 that they govern. Therefore, all states that are 
 liberal of naturalization towards strangers are fit for 
 empire ; for to think that a 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 ; where- 
 by, while they kept their compass, they stood firm ; 
 but when they did spread, and their boughs were 
 becoming too great for their stem, they became a 
 windfall upon the sudden. Never any state was, 
 
 1 He alludes to the dream of Nebuchadnezzar, which is men- 
 tioned Daniel iv. 10 ; "I saw, and behold a tree in the midst of 
 the earth, and the height thereof Avas great. The tree grew, and 
 was strong, and the height thereof reached unto heaven, and the 
 sight thereof to the end of all the earth : the leaves thereof were 
 fair, and tlie fruit thereof much, and in it was meat for all ; the 
 beasts of the field had shadow under it, and the fowls of the 
 heaven dwelt in the boughs thereof, and all flesh was fed of it." 
 
188 ESSAYS. 
 
 ill 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 naturali- 
 zation (which they called "jus civitatis "),^ and to 
 grant it in the highest degree, that is, not only 
 "jus commercii,"^ "jus coimubii,"^ "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 body of a tree, far above Rome and Sparta at 
 the first; and, besides, though they have not had 
 that usage to naturalize liberally, yet they have 
 that which is next to it • that is, to employ, almost 
 
 1 "Right of citizenship." ^ "Eight of trading." 
 
 3 " Right of intermarriage." * " Right of inheritance." 
 
 ^ "Right of suffrage." ^ "Right of honors." 
 
 "^ Long since the time of Lord Bacon, as soon as these colonies 
 
 had arrived at a certain state of maturity, they at different periods 
 
 revolted from the mother country. 
 
OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 189 
 
 indifFerentlj, all nations in their militia of ordinary 
 soldiers; yea, and sometimes in their highest com- 
 mands; nay, it seemeth at this instant they are 
 sensible of this want of natives, as by the pragmat- 
 ical sanction,^ now published, appeareth. 
 
 It is certain that sedentary and within-door arts, 
 and delicate manufactures (that require rather the 
 finger than the arm), have in their nature a contra- 
 riety 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 of it, if they shall be preserved in vigor. 
 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 handicrafts- 
 men of strong and manly arts ; as smiths, masons, 
 carpenters, &c., not reckoning professed soldiers. 
 
 But, above all, for empire and greatness, it im- 
 porteth most, that a nation do profess arms as their 
 principal honor, study, and occupation ; for the 
 
 1 The laws and ordinances promulgated by the sovereigns of 
 Spain were so called. The term was derived from the Byzantine 
 empire. 
 
190 ESSAYS. 
 
 things which we formerly have spoken of are but 
 habilitations ^ towards arms ; and what is habilita- 
 tion without intention and act ? Romulus, after his 
 death (as they report or feign), sent a present to 
 the Romans, that, above all, they should intend^ 
 arms, and then they should prove the greatest em- 
 pire of the world. The fabric of the state of Sparta 
 was wholly (though not wisely) framed and com- 
 posed to that scope and end ; the Persians and 
 Macedonians had it for a flash ; ^ the Gauls, Ger- 
 mans, 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 effect only the Spaniards ; but it is so 
 plain, that every man profiteth 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 profession and exercise of arms had grown to 
 decay.^ 
 
 Incident to this point is, for a state to have those 
 
 1 Qualifications. 2 Attend to. 
 
 " For a short or transitory period. 
 
OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 191 
 
 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 
 baud, for cause of war, the propagation of his law 
 or sect, a quarrel that he may always command. 
 The Romans, though they esteemed the extending 
 the limits of their empire to be great honor to 
 their generals when it was done, yet they never 
 rested upon that alone to begin a war. First, 
 therefore, let nations that pretend to greatness have 
 this, that they 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 pressed,^ and ready to give aids and 
 succors to their confederates, as it ever was with 
 the Romans ; insomuch, as if the confederate had 
 leagues defensive with divers other states, and, upon 
 invasion offered, did implore their aids severally, 
 yet the Romans would ever be the foremost, and 
 leave it to none other to have the honor. As for 
 the wars, which were anciently made on the behalf 
 of a kind of party, or tacit conformity of estate, I 
 do not see how they may be well justified : as when 
 the Romans made a war for the liberty of Grsecia ; 
 or, when the Lacedaemonians and Athenians made 
 wars to set up or pull down democracies and oligar- 
 
 1 Be in a hurry. 
 
192 ESSAYS. 
 
 chies ; or when wars were made by foreigners, under 
 the pretence of justice or protection, to deliver the 
 subjects of others from tyranny and oppression, and 
 the like. Let it suffice, that no estate expect to be 
 great, that is not awake upon any just occasion of 
 arming. 
 
 Nobody can be healthful without exercise, neither 
 natural body nor politic; and, certainly, to a king- 
 dom, or estate, a just and honorable war is the true 
 exercise. A civil war, indeed, is like the heat of a 
 fever; but a foreign war is like the heat of exer- 
 cise, and serveth to keep the body in health ; for, 
 in a slothful peace, both courages will effeminate 
 and manners corrupt. But, howsoever it be for 
 happiness, without all question for greatness, it 
 maketh to be still, for the most part, in arms ; and 
 the strength of a veteran army (though it be a 
 chargeable business) always on foot, is that which 
 commonly giveth the law, or, at least, the reputation 
 amongst all neighbor states, as may well be seen in 
 Spain,^ which hath had, in one part or other, a 
 veteran army, almost continually, now by the space 
 of sixscore years. 
 
 To be master of the sea is an abridgment of a 
 monarchy. Cicero, writing to Atticus, of Pompey's 
 preparation against Csesar, saith, " Consilium Pom- 
 peii plane Themistocleum est ; putat enim, qui marl 
 
 1 It was its immense armaments that in a great measure con- 
 sumed the vitals of Spain. 
 
OF KINGDOMS AND ESTATES. 193 
 
 potitur, eum rerum potiri ; ^ and, without doubt, 
 Pompej had tired out Caesar, if upon vain confi- 
 dence he had not left that way. We see the great 
 effects of battles by sea. The battle of Actium 
 decided the empire of the Avorld : the battle of Le- 
 panto arrested the greatness of the Turk. There 
 be many examples where sea-fights have been final 
 to the war ; but this is when princes, or states, have 
 set up their rest upon the battles. But thus mucli 
 is certain, that he that commands the sea is at great 
 liberty, 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 
 Indies seems, in great part, but an accessary to the 
 command of the seas. 
 
 The wars of latter ages seem to be made in the 
 dark, in respect of the glory and honor which re- 
 flected upon men from the wars in ancient time. 
 There be now, for martial encouragement, some de- 
 grees and orders of chivalry, which, nevertheless, 
 are conferred promiscuously upon soldiers and no 
 
 1 *' Pompey's plan is clearly that of Themistocles ; for he be- 
 lieves that whoever is master of the sea will obtain the supreme 
 power." — Ad Alt. x. 8. 
 
 13 
 
194 ESSAYS. 
 
 soldiers ; and some remembrance, perhaps, upon the 
 escutcheon, and some hospitals for maimed soldiers, 
 and such like things ; but in ancient times, the tro- 
 phies erected upon the place of the victory ; the 
 funeral laudatives,^ and monuments for those that 
 died in the wars ; the crowns and garlands per- 
 sonal; the style of emperor which the great kings 
 of the world after borrowed ; the triumphs of the 
 generals upon their return ; th€ 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 contained 
 three things : honor to the general, riches to the 
 treasury out of the spoils, and donatives to the army. 
 But that honor, 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 
 triumphs to themselves and their sons, for such wars 
 as they did achieve in person, and left only for wars 
 achieved by subjects, some triumphal garments and 
 ensigns to the general. 
 
 To conclude. No man can by care-taking (as the 
 Scripture saith) " add a cubit to his stature," ^ 
 in this little model of a man's body ; but in the 
 great frame of kingdoms and commonwealths, it is 
 
 1 Encomiums. 
 
 2 St. Matthew vi. 27; St. Luke xii. 25. 
 
OF EEGIMEN OF HEALTH. 195 
 
 in the power of princes, or estates, to add amplitude 
 and greatness to their kingdom ; for, by introducing 
 such ordinances, constitutions, and customs, as we 
 have now touched, they may sow greatness to their 
 posterity and succession : but these things are com- 
 monly not observed, but left to take their chance. 
 
 XXX. — OF REGIMElSr OF HEALTH. 
 
 There is a wisdom in this beyond the rules of 
 physic. A man's own observation, what he finds 
 good of, and what he finds hurt of, is the best physic 
 to preserve health ; but it is a safer conclusion to 
 say, "This agreeth not well with me, therefore I 
 will not continue it ; " than this, " I find no offence 
 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 com- 
 ing 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 any 
 thing thou shalt judge hurtful, to discontinue it by 
 little and little; but so, as if thou dost find any 
 
 1 The effects of which must be felt in old age. 
 
196 ESSAYS. 
 
 inconvenience by the change, thou come back to it 
 again ; for it is hard to distinguish that which is 
 generally held good and wholesome, from that which 
 is good particularly,^ and fit for thine own body. To 
 be free-minded and cheerfully disposed at hours of 
 meat, and .of sleep, and of exercise, is one of the 
 best precepts of long lasting. As for the passions 
 and studies of the mind, avoid envy, anxious fears, 
 anger fretting inwards, subtle and knotty inquisi- 
 tions, joys, and exhilarations in excess, sadness not 
 communicated. Entertain hopes, mirth rather than 
 joy, variety of delights, rather than surfeit of them ; 
 wonder and admiration, and therefore novelties ; 
 studies that fill the mind with splendid and illustri- 
 ous objects, as histories, fables, and contemplations 
 of nature. If you fly physic in health altogether, it 
 will be too strange for your body when you shall 
 need it; if you make it too familiar, it will work no 
 extraordinary effect when sickness cometh. I com- 
 mend rather some diet, for certain seasons, than 
 frequent use of physic, except it be grown into a 
 custom ; for those diets alter the body more, and 
 trouble it less. Despise no new accident^ in your 
 body, but ask opinion^ of it. In sickness, respect 
 health principally ; and in health, action ; for those 
 that put their bodies to endure in health, may, in 
 most sicknesses which are not very sharp, be cured 
 
 1 Of benefit in your individual case. 
 
 2 Any striking change in the constitution. 
 
 3 Take medical advice. 
 
OF SUSPICION. 197 
 
 only with diet and tendering. Celsus could never 
 have spoken it as a physician, had he not been a 
 wise man w^ithal, when he giveth it for one of the 
 great precepts of health and lasting, that a man do 
 vary and interchange contraries, but with an inclinar- 
 tion to the more benign extreme. Use fasting and 
 full eating, but rather full eating ; ^ watching and 
 sleep, but rather sleep; sitting and exercise, but 
 rather exercise, and the like ; so shall nature be 
 cherished, and yet taught masteries.^ Physicians are 
 some of them so pleasing and conformable to the 
 humor of the patient, as they press not the true cure 
 of the disease ; and some other 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. 
 
 XXXI. — OF SUSPICIOK 
 
 Suspicions amongst thoughts 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 
 
 1 Incline rather to fully satisfying your hunger. 
 
 2 Celsus de Med. i. 1. 
 
198 ESSAYS. 
 
 check with business, whereby business cannot go 
 on currently and constantly. They dispose kings to 
 tyranny, husbands to jealousy, wise men to irresolu- 
 tion and melancholy. They are defects, not in the 
 heart but in the brain ; for they take place in the 
 stoutest natures, as in the example of Henry the 
 Seventh of England. There was not a more suspi- 
 cious man, nor a more stout, and in such a composi- 
 tion 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 sus- 
 picions as true, and yet to bridle them as false : ^ for 
 so far a man ought to make use of suspicions as to 
 provide, as if that should be 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 suspicions, is frankly to communicate 
 
 1 To hope the best, but be fully prepared for the worst. 
 
OF DISCOURSE. 199 
 
 them with the party that he suspects : for thereby he 
 shall be sure to know more of the truth of them than 
 he did before ; and, withal, shall make that party 
 more circumspect, not to give further cause of sus- 
 picion. But tliis w^ould not be done to men of base 
 natures ; for they, if they find themselves once sus- 
 pected, will never be true. The Italian says, " Sos- 
 petto licentia fede ; " ^ as if suspicion did give a 
 passport to faith ; but it ought rather to kindle it to 
 discharge itself. 
 
 XXXIL — OF DISCOURSE. 
 
 Some in their discourse desire rather commenda- 
 tion of wit, in being able to hold all arguments,^ than 
 of judgment, in discerning what is true ; as if it were 
 a praise to know what might be said and not what 
 should be thought. Some have certain common- 
 places and themes, wherein they are good, and want 
 variety ; which kind of poverty is for the most part 
 tedious, and, when it is once perceived, ridiculous. 
 The honorablest part of talk is to give the occasion,^ 
 and again to moderate and pass to somewhat else ; 
 for then a man leads the dance. It is good in dis- 
 course, and speech of conversation, to vary and 
 
 1 •' Suspicion is the passport to faith." 
 
 2 A censure of this nature has been applied by some to Dr. 
 Johnson, and possibly with some reason. 
 
 3 To start the subject. 
 
200 ESSAYS. 
 
 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 
 any thing 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 pity ; yet there be some that think their 
 wits have been asleep, except they dart out some- 
 what that is piquant, and to the quick ; that is a 
 vein which would be bridled : ^ — • 
 
 " Parce, puer, stimulis, et fortius utere loris." ^ 
 
 And, generally, men ought to find the difference 
 between saltness 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 ques- 
 tions to the skill of the persons whom he asketh : 
 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 to 
 leave other men their turns to speak ; nay, if there 
 be any that would reign and take up all the time, 
 
 1 Requires to be bridled. 
 
 2 He quotes here from Ovid: "Boy, spare tlie whip, and 
 tightly grasp the reins." — Met. ii. 127. 
 
 3 One who tests or examines. 
 
OP DISCOURSE. 201 
 
 let him find means to take them off, and to bring 
 others on, as musicians used to do with those that 
 dance too long galliards.^ If you dissemble some- 
 times your knowledge of that you are thought to 
 know, you shall be thought, another time, to know 
 that you know not. Speech of a man's self ought 
 to be seldom, and well chosen. I knew one was 
 wont to say in scorn, " He must needs be a wise 
 man, he speaks so much of himself;" and there is 
 but one case wherein a man may commend himself 
 with good grace, and that is in commending virtue 
 in another, especially if it be such a virtue 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 ? " 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 agreeably to 
 him with whom we deal, is more than to speak in 
 
 1 The galliard was a liglit active dance, much in fashion in the 
 time of Queen Elizabeth. 
 
 2 Hits at, or remarks intended to be applied to, particular 
 individuals. 
 
 3 A slight or insult. 
 
 ^ A sarcastic remark. 
 
202 ESSAYS. 
 
 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, with- 
 out a good settled speech, showeth shallowness and 
 weakness. As we see in beasts, that those that are 
 weakest in the course, are yet nimblest in the turn ; 
 as it is betwixt the greyhound and the hare. To use 
 too many circumstances, ere one come to the matter, 
 is wearisome ; to use none at all, is blunt. 
 
 XXXIII. — OF PLANTATIONS.! 
 
 Plantations are amongst ancient, primitive, and 
 heroical works. When the world was young, it 
 begat more children ; but now it is old, it begets 
 fewer ; for I may justly account new plantations to 
 be the children of former kingdoms. I like a plan- 
 tation in a pure soil ; that is, where people are not 
 displanted,^ to the end to plant in others ; for else 
 it is rather an extirpation than a plantation. Plant- 
 ing 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 
 
 1 The old term for coloines. 
 
 2 He perhaps alludes covertly to the conduct of the Spaniards 
 iu extirpating the aboriginal inhabitants of the "West India Islands, 
 against which the venerable Las Casas so eloquently but vainly 
 X^rotested. 
 
OF PLANTATIONS. 203 
 
 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 may 
 stand with the good of the plantation, but no further. 
 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 plantation ; for they will ever live 
 like rogues, and not fall to work ; but be lazy, and 
 do mischief, and spend victuals, and be quickly 
 weary, and then certify over to their country to the 
 discredit of the plantation. The people wherewith 
 you plant ought to be gardeners, ploughmen, labor- 
 ers, smiths, carpenters, joiners, fishermen, fowlers, 
 with some few apothecaries, surgeons, cooks, and 
 bakers. In a country of plantations, first look about 
 what kind of victual the country yields of itself to 
 hand ; as chestnuts, walnuts, pine-apples, olives, 
 dates, plums, cherries, wild honey, and the like, 
 and make use of them. Then consider what victual, 
 or esculent things there are, which grow speedily, 
 and within the year ; as parsnips, carrots, turnips, 
 onions, radish, artichokes of Jerusalem, maize, and 
 the like. For wheat, barley, and oats, they ask too 
 much labor ; but with pease and beans you may 
 begin, both because they ask less labor, and because 
 they serve for meat as well as for bread ; and of 
 
 1 Of course, this censure would not apply to what is primarily 
 and essentially a convict colony ; the object of which is to drain 
 the mother country of its impure superfluities. 
 
204 ESSAYS. 
 
 rice, likewise, cometh a great increase, and it is a 
 kind of meat. Above all, there ought to be brought 
 store of biscuit, oatmeal, flour, meal, and the like, in 
 the beginning, till bread may be had. For beasts, 
 or birds, take chiefly such as are least subject to 
 diseases, and multiply fastest ; as swine, goats, cocks, 
 hens, turkeys, geese, house-doves, and the like. The 
 victual in plantations ought to be expended almost 
 as in a besieged town, that is, with certain allowance ; 
 and let the main part of the ground employed to gar- 
 dens or corn, be to a common stock ; and to be laid 
 in, and stored up, and then delivered out in propor- 
 tion ; besides some spots of ground that any par- 
 ticular person will manure for his own private use. 
 Consider, likewise, what commodities the soil where 
 the plantation is doth naturally yield, that they may 
 some way help to defray the charge of the planta^ 
 tion ; so it be not, as was said, to the untimely 
 prejudice of the main business, as it hath fared with 
 tobacco in Virginia.^ Wood commonly aboundeth 
 but too much ; and therefore timber is fit to be one. 
 If there be iron ore, and streams whereupon to set 
 the mills, iron is a brave commodity where wood 
 aboundeth. Making of bay-salt, if the climate be 
 proper for it, would be put in experience ; grow- 
 ing silk, likewise, if any be, is a likely commodity ; 
 pitch and tar, where store of firs and pines are, will 
 
 1 Times have much changed since this was penned, tobacco is 
 now the staple commodity, and the source of " the main business" 
 of Virginia. 
 
OF PLANTATIONS. 205 
 
 not fail ; so drugs and sweet woods, where they are, 
 cannot but yield great profit; soap-ashes, likewise, 
 and other things that may be thought of ; but moil ^ 
 not too much under ground, for the hope of mines 
 is very uncertain, and useth to make the planters 
 lazy in other things. For government, let it be in 
 the hands of one, assisted with some counsel ; and 
 lot them have commission to exercise martial laws, 
 with some limitation ; and, above all, let men make 
 that profit of being in the wilderness, as they have 
 God always, and his service, before their eyes. Let 
 not the government of the plantation depend upon 
 too many counsellors and undertakers in the country 
 that planteth, but upon a temperate number ; and 
 let those be rather noblemen and gentlemen, than 
 mercliants, for they look ever to the present gain. 
 Let there be freedoms from custom, till the planta^ 
 tion be of strength; and not only freedom from 
 custom, but freedom to carry their commodities 
 where they may make theu- best of them, except 
 there be some special cause of caution. Cram not 
 in people, by sending too fast company after com- 
 pany; but rather hearken how they waste, and 
 send supplies proportionably ; but so as the num- 
 ber may live well in the plantation, and not by 
 surcharge be in penury. It hath been a great en- 
 dangering to the health of some plantations, that 
 thay have built along the sea and rivers, in marish^ 
 
 1 To labor hard. 
 
 2 Marshy ; from the French marais, a marsh. 
 
206 ESSAYS. 
 
 and unwholesome grounds; therefore, though you 
 begin there, to avoid carriage and other like dis- 
 commodities, yet build still rather upwards from 
 the streams than along. It concerneth, likewise, 
 the health of the plantation, that they have good 
 store of salt with them, that they may use it in tlieir 
 victuals when it shall be necessary. If you plant 
 where savages are, do not only entertain them with 
 trifles and gingles,^ but use them justly and gra- 
 ciously, with sufficient guard, nevertheless ; and do 
 not win their favor by helping them to invade their 
 enemies, but for their defence it is not amiss ; and 
 send oft of them over to the country that plants, 
 that they may sec 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 planta- 
 tion 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 dishonor, it is the 
 guiltiness of blood of many commiserable persons. 
 
 1 Gewgaws, or spangles. 
 
OF RICHES. 207 
 
 XXXIV. — OF RICHES. 
 
 I CANNOT Ctall riches better than the baggage of 
 virtue ; the Roman word is better, '' impedimenta ; " 
 for as the baggage is to an army, so is riches to virtue ; 
 it cannot be spared nor left behind, but it hindereth 
 the march ; yea, and the care of it sometimes loseth 
 or disturbeth the victory. Of great riches there is 
 no real use, except it be in the distribution ; the rest 
 is but conceit. So saith Solomon : *' Where much is, 
 there are many to consume it; and what hath the 
 owner, but the sight of it with his eyes?"i The 
 personal fruition in any man cannot reach to feel 
 great riches : there is a custody of them, or a power 
 of dole and donative of them, or a fame of them, but 
 no solid use to the owner. Do you not see what 
 feigned prices are set upon little stones and rarities ? 
 and what works of ostentation are undertaken, be- 
 cause there might seem to be some use of great 
 riches ? But then you will say, they may be of use 
 to buy men out of dangers or troubles ; as Solomon 
 saith : " Riches are as a strong-hold in the imagina- 
 tion of the rich man ; " ^ but this is excellently ex- 
 
 1 He alludes to Ecclesiastes v. 11, the words of which are some- 
 what varied in our version: *'When goods increase, they are in- 
 creased that eat them ; and what good is there to the owners thereof, 
 saving the beholding of them with their eyes ? " 
 
 2 ««The rich man's wealth is his strong city. " — Prowr&s x. 15 ; 
 xviii. 11. 
 
208 ESSAYS. 
 
 pressed, that it is in imagination, and not always in 
 fact ; for, certainly, great riches have sold more men 
 than they have bought out. Seek not proud riches, 
 but such as thou mayest get justly, use soberly, dis- 
 tribute cheerfully, and leave contentedly ; yet have 
 no abstract nor friarly contempt of them, but distin- 
 guish, as Cicero saith well of Rabirius Posthumus : 
 " In studio rei amplificandeD apparebat, non ava- 
 ritiae prsedam, sed instrumentum bonitati quseri." ^ 
 Hearken also to Solomon, and beware of hasty 
 gathering of riches : " Qui festinat ad divitias, non 
 erit insons."^ The poets feign, that when Plutus 
 (which is riches) is sent from Jupiter, he limps, 
 and goes slowly; but when he is sent from Pluto, 
 he runs, and is swift of foot ; meaning, that riches 
 gotten by good means and just labor pace slowly.; 
 but when they come by the death of others^ (as by 
 the course of inheritance, testaments, and the like), 
 they come tumbling upon a man. But it might be 
 applied likewise to Pluto, taking him for the devil ; 
 for when riches come from the devil (as by fraud 
 and oppression, and unjust means), they come upon 
 speed. The ways to enrich are many, and most of 
 
 1 "In his anxiety to increase his fortune, it was evident that 
 not the gratification of avarice was sought, but the meanc of doing 
 good." 
 
 2 "He who hastens to riches will not be without guilt." In 
 our version the words are: "He that niaketh haste to be rich 
 shall not be innocent." — Proverbs xxviii. 22. 
 
 2 Pluto being the king of the infernal regions, or place of de- 
 parted spirits. 
 
OF RICHES. 209 
 
 them foul : parsimony is one of the best, and yet 
 is not innocent ; for it withholdeth men from works 
 of liberality and charity. The improvement of the 
 ground is the most natural obtaining of riches; for 
 it is our great mother's blessing, the earth's, but it 
 is slow; and yet, where men of great wealth do 
 stoop to husbandry, it multiplieth riches exceed- 
 ingly. I knew a nobleman, in England, that had 
 the greatest audits ^ of any man in my time, a great 
 grazier, a great sheep-master, a great timber-man, 
 a great collier, a great corn-master, a great lead- 
 man, and so of iron, and a number of the like 
 points of husbandry ; so as the earth seemed a sea 
 to him in respect of the perpetual importation. It 
 was truly observed by one, "That himself came 
 very hardly to a little riches, and very easily to 
 great riches ; " for when a man's stock is come to 
 that, that he can expect the prime of markets,^ and 
 overcome those bargains, which for their greatness 
 are few men's money, and be partner in the indus- 
 tries of younger men, he cannot but increase mainly. 
 The gains of ordinary trades and vocations are 
 honest, and furthered by two things, chiefly: by 
 diligence, and by a good name for good and fair 
 dealing; but the gains of bargains are of a more 
 doubtful nature, when men shall wait upon others' 
 necessity : broke by servants and instruments to 
 draw them on ; put off" others cunningly that would 
 
 ^ Rent-roll, or account taken of Income. 
 2 Wait till prices have risen. 
 14 
 
210 ESSAYS. 
 
 be better cbapmen ; and the like practices, which 
 are crafty and naught. As for the chopping of 
 bargains, when a man buys not to hold, but to sell 
 over again, that commonly grindeth double, both 
 upon the seller and upon the buyer. Sharings do 
 greatly enrich, if the hands be well chosen that are 
 trusted. Usury is the certainest means of gain, 
 though one of the worst ; as that whereby a man 
 doth eat his bread, " in sudore vidtiis alieni ; " ^ 
 and, besides, doth plough upon Sundays; but yet 
 certain though it be, it hath flaws, for that the scriv- 
 eners and brokers do value unsound men to serve 
 their own turn. The fortune, in being the first in 
 an invention, or in a pri\^lege, doth cause some- 
 times a wonderful overgrowth in riches, as it was 
 with the first sugar-man ^ in the Canaries; there- 
 fore, if a man can play the true logician, to have as 
 Avell judgment as invention, he may do great mat- 
 ters, especially if the times be fit. He that resteth 
 upon gains certain, shall hardly grow to great riches ; 
 and he that puts all upon adventures, doth often- 
 times break and come to poverty ; it is good, there- 
 fore, to guard adventures with certainties that may 
 uphold losses. Monopolies, and coemption of wares 
 for resale, where they are not restrained, are great 
 means to enrich; especially if the party have intel- 
 ligence what things are like to come into request, 
 
 1 "In the sweat of another's brow." He alludes to the words 
 of Genesis iii. 19 : "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread." 
 
 2 Planter of sugar-canes. 
 
OF KICHES. 211 
 
 and so store himself beforehand. Riches gotten by 
 service, though it be of the best rise, yet when they 
 are gotten by flattery, feeding humors, and other 
 servile conditions, they may be placed amongst the 
 worst. As for fishing for testaments and execu- 
 torships (as Tacitus saith of Seneca, ''Testamenta 
 et orbos tanquam indagine capi"),^ it is yet worse, 
 by how much men submit themselves to meaner 
 persons than in service. Believe not much them 
 that seem to despise riches, for they despise them 
 that despair of them; and none worse when they 
 come to them. Be not penny-wise; riches have 
 wings, and sometimes they fly away of themselves, 
 sometimes they must be set flying to bring in more. 
 Men leave their riches either to their kindred, or 
 to the public ; and moderate portions prosper best 
 in both. A great state left to an heir, is as a lure 
 to all the birds of prey round about to seize on him, 
 if he be not the better stablished in years and judg- 
 ment ; likewise, glorious gifts and foundations are 
 like sacrifices without salt, and but the painted 
 sepulchres of alms, which soon will putrefy and cor- 
 rupt inwardly. Therefore, measure not thine ad- 
 vancements by quantity, but frame them by measure, 
 and defer not charities till death; for, certainly, 
 if a man weigh it rightly, he that doth so is rather 
 liberal of another man's than of his own. 
 
 1 "Wills and childless persons were caught hy Mni, as though 
 with a hunting-net." — Tacit. Ann. xiii. 42. 
 
212 ESSAYS. 
 
 XXXV. — OF PROPHECIES. 
 
 I MEAN not to speak of divine prophecies, nor of 
 heathen oracles, nor of natural predictions ; but only 
 of prophecies that have been of certain memory, and 
 from hidden causes. Saith the Pythonissa^ to Saul, 
 "To-morrow thou and thy sons shall be with me." 
 Virgil hath these verses from Homer : — 
 
 "Hie domus ^Enese cnnctis dorainabitur oris, 
 Et nati natorum, et qui nascentur ab illis." ^ 
 
 A prophecy, as it seems, of the Roman empire. 
 Seneca the tragedian hath these verses: — 
 
 '* Venient annis 
 Ssecula seris, quibus Oceanus 
 Vincula rerum laxet, et ingens 
 Pateat Tellus, Tiphysque novos 
 Detegat orbes ; nee sit terris 
 Ultima Thule." 3 
 
 A prophecy of the discovery of America. The 
 
 1 *' Pythoness," used in the sense of witeh. He alludes to the 
 witch of Endor, and the words in Samuel xxviii. 19. He is, how- 
 ever, mistaken in attributing these words to the witch : it was the 
 spirit of Samuel that said, "To-morrow shalt thou and thy sons 
 be with me." 
 
 2 "But the house of ^neas shall reign over every shore, both 
 his children's children, and those who shall spring from them." — 
 ^n. iii. 97. 
 
 8 "After the lapse of years, ages will come in which Ocean 
 shall relax his chains around the world, and a vast continent shall 
 appear, and Tiphys shall explore new regions, and Thule shall be 
 no longer the utmost verge of earth." ~ Sen. Med. ii. 375. 
 
OF PROPHECIES. 213 
 
 daughter of Polycrates ^ dreamed that Jupiter bathed 
 her father, and Apollo anointed him ; and it came to 
 pass that he was crucified in an open place, where 
 the sun made his body run with sweat, and the rain 
 washed it. Philip of Macedon dreamed he sealed 
 up his wife's belly, whereby he did expound it, 
 that his wife should be barren ; but Aristander the 
 soothsayer told him his wife was with child, because 
 men do not use to seal vessels that are empty.^ A 
 phantasm that appeared to M. Brutus in his tent, 
 said to him, " Philippis iterum me videbis." ^ Tibe- 
 rius said to Galba, " Tu quoque, Galba, degustabis 
 imperium." ^ In Vespasian's time, there went a 
 prophecy in the East, that those that should come 
 forth of Judea, should reign over the world; which, 
 though it may be was meant of our Saviour, yet Ta- 
 citus expounds it of Vespasian.^ Domitian dreamed, 
 the night before he was slain, that a golden head 
 was growing out of the nape of his neck ; ^ and, 
 indeed, the succession that followed him, for many 
 years, made golden times. Henry the Sixth of Eng- 
 
 1 He was king of Samos, and was treacherously put to death by 
 Orcetes, the governor of Magnesia, in Asia Minor. His daughter, 
 in consequence of her dream, attempted to dissuade him from 
 visiting Orcetes, but in vain. — Herod, iii. 124. 
 
 2 Plut. Vit. Alex. 2. 
 
 8 "Thou shalt see me again at Philippi." — Appian Bell. Civ. 
 iv. 134. 
 
 * ** Thou, also, Galba, shalt taste of empire." — Suet. Vit. 
 Gall. 4. 
 
 6 Hist. V. 13. 
 
 « Suet. vit. Domit. 23. 
 
214 ESSAYS. 
 
 land said of Henry the Seventh, when he was a lad, 
 and gave him water, "This is the lad that shall enjoy 
 the crown for which we strive." When I was in 
 France, I heard from one Dr. Pena, that the queen 
 mother,^ who was given to curious arts, caused the 
 king her husband's nativity to be calculated under a 
 false name; and the astrologer gave a judgment, 
 that he should be killed in a duel; at which the 
 queen laughed, thinking her husband to be above 
 challenges and duels ; but he was slain upon a course 
 at tilt, the splinters of the staif of Montgomery 
 going in at his beaver. The trivial prophecy which 
 I heard when I was a child, and Queen Elizabeth 
 was in the flower of her years, was, 
 
 *' When hempe is spunne, 
 England 's done ; " 
 
 whereby it was generally conceived, that after the 
 princes had reigned which had the principal letters 
 of that word hempe (which were Henry, Edward, 
 Mary, Philip, and Elizabeth), England should come 
 to utter confusion ; which, thanks be to God, is veri- 
 fied only in the change of the name ; for that the 
 king's style is now no more of England, but of 
 Britain.^ There was also another prophecy before 
 the year of eighty-eight, which I do not well under- 
 stand. 
 
 1 Catherine de Medicis, the wife of Henry II. of France, who 
 died from a wound accidentally received in a tournament. 
 
 2 James I. beingr the first monarch of Great Britain. 
 
OF PROPHECIES. 215 
 
 ** There shall be seen upon a day, 
 Between tlie Baugli and the May, 
 The black fleet of Norway. 
 When that that is come and gone, 
 England build houses of lime and stone, 
 For after wars you shall have none." 
 
 It was generally conceived to be meant of the Span- 
 isli fleet that came in eighty-eight ; for that the king 
 of Spain's surname, as they say, is Norway. The 
 prediction of Regiomontanus, 
 
 *' Octogesimus octavus mirabilis annus," ^ 
 
 was thought likewise accomplished in the sending 
 of that great fleet, being the greatest in strength, 
 though not in number, of all that ever swam upon 
 the sea. As for Cleon's dream ,2 I think it was a 
 jest ; it was, that he was devoured of a long dragon ; 
 and it was expounded of a maker of sausages, that 
 troubled him exceedingly. There are numbers of 
 
 1 "The eighty-eighth will be a wondrous year." 
 
 2 " Aristophanes, in his Comedy of the Knights, satirizes Cleon, 
 the Athenian demagogue. He introduces a declaration of the 
 oracle, that the Eagle of hides (by whom Cleon was meant, his 
 father having been a tanner), should be conquered by a serpent, 
 which Demosthenes, one of the characters in the play, expounds 
 as meaning a maker of sausages. How Lord Bacon could for a 
 moment doubt that this was a mere jest, it is difficult to conjec- 
 ture. The following is a literal translation of a portion of the 
 passage from The Knights {1. 197) : "But when a leather eagle 
 with crooked talons shall have seized with its jaws a serpent, a 
 stupid creature, a drinker of blood, then the tan-pickle of the 
 Paphlagonians is destroyed ; but upon the sellers of sausages 
 the deity bestows great glory, unless they choose rather to sell 
 sausages." 
 
216 ESSAYS. 
 
 the like kind, especially if you include dreams, and 
 predictions of astrology ; but I have set down these 
 few only of certain credit, for example. My judg- 
 ment is, that they ought all to be despised, and ought 
 to serve but for winter talk by the fireside ; though, 
 when I say despised, I mean it as for belief; for 
 otherwise, the spreading or publishing of them is in 
 no sort to be despised, for they have done much 
 mischief; and I see many severe laws made to 
 suppress them. That that hath given them grace, 
 and some credit, consisteth in three things. First, 
 that men mark when they hit, and never mark 
 when they miss ; ^ as they do, generally, also of 
 dreams. The second is, that probable conjectures, 
 or obscure traditions, many times turn themselves 
 into prophecies; while the nature of man, which 
 coveteth divination, thinks it no peril to foretell 
 that which indeed they do but collect, as that of 
 Seneca's verse ; for so much was then subject to 
 demonstration, that the globe of the earth had great 
 parts beyond the Atlantic, which might be probably 
 conceived not to be all sea ; and adding thereto the 
 tradition in Plato's Timseus, and his Atlanticus,^ it 
 
 1 This is a very just remark. So-called strange coincidences, 
 and wonderful dreams that are verified, when the point is con- 
 sidered, are really not at all marvellous. We never hear of the 
 999 dreams that are not verified, but the thousandth that hap- 
 pens to precede its fulfilment is blazoned by unthinking people 
 as a marvel. It would be a much more wonderful thing if dreams 
 were not occasionally verified. 
 
 2 Under this name he alludes to the Critias of Plato, in which 
 an imaginary "terra incognita" is discoursed of under the name 
 
OF AMBITION. 217 
 
 might encourage one to turn it to a prediction. 
 The third and last (which is the great one), is, that 
 almost all of them, being infinite in number, have 
 been impostures, and, by idle and crafty brains, 
 merely contrived and feigned, after the event past. 
 
 XXXVI. — OF AMBITION. 
 
 Ambition is like choler, which is a humor that 
 maketh men active, earnest, full of alacrity, and 
 stirring, if it be not stopped ; but if it be stopped, 
 and cannot have its way, it becometh adust,^ and 
 thereby malign and venomous. So ambitious men, 
 if they find the way open for their rising, and still 
 get forward, they are rather busy than dangerous ; 
 but if they be checked in their desires, they be- 
 come secretly discontent, and look upon men and 
 matters with an evil eye, and are best pleased 
 when things go backward ; which is the worst prop- 
 erty in a servant of a prince or state. Therefore, 
 it is good for princes, if they use ambitious men, to 
 handle it so, as they be still progressive, and not 
 retrograde ; which, because it cannot be without 
 inconvenience, it is good not to use such natures 
 
 of the "New Atlantis." It lias been conjectured from this by- 
 some, that Plato really did believe in the existence of a continent 
 on the other side of the globe. 
 1 Hot and fiery. 
 
218 ESSAYS. 
 
 at all ; for if they rise not with their service, they 
 will take order to make their service fall with them. 
 But since we have said, it were good not to use men 
 of ambitious natures, except it be upon necessity, it 
 is fit we speak in what cases they are of necessity. 
 Good commanders in the wars must be taken, be 
 they never so ambitious ; for the use of their ser- 
 vice dispenseth with the rest ; and to take a soldier 
 without ambition, is to pull off his spurs. There 
 is also great use of ambitious men in being screens 
 to princes in matters of danger and envy; for no 
 man will take that part, except he be like a seeled ^ 
 dove, that mounts and mounts, because he cannot 
 see about him. There is use, also, of ambitious 
 men, in pulling down the greatness of any subject 
 that overtops ; as Tiberius used Macro ^ in the 
 pulling down of Sejanus. Since, therefore, they 
 must be used in such cases, there resteth to speak 
 how they are to be bridled, that they may be less 
 dangerous. There is less danger of them if they 
 be of mean birth, than if they be noble ;. and if 
 they be rather harsh of nature, than gracious and 
 popular ; and if they be rather new raised, than 
 grown cunning and fortified in their greatness. It 
 is counted by some a weakness in princes to have 
 favorites ; but it is, of all others, the best remedy 
 
 1 With the eyes closed or blindfolded. 
 
 2 He was a favorite of Tiberius, to whose murder by Nero he 
 was said to have been an accessary. He afterwards prostituted his 
 own wife to Caligula, by whom he was eventually put to death. 
 
OF AMBITION. 219 
 
 against ambitious great ones ; for when the way of 
 pleasuring and displeasuring lieth by the favorite, 
 it is impossible any other should be over-great. 
 Another means to curb them, is, to balance them by 
 others as proud as they ; but then there must be 
 some middle counsellors, to keep things steady, for 
 without that ballast, the ship will roll too much. 
 At the least, a prince may animate and inure some 
 meaner persons to be, as it were, scourges to ambi- 
 tious men. As for the having of them obnoxious 
 to 1 ruin, if they be of fearful natures, it may do 
 well ; but if they be stout and daring, it may pre- 
 cipitate their designs, and prove dangerous. As for 
 the pulling of them down, if the affairs require it, 
 and that it may not be done with safety suddenly, 
 the only way is, the interchange continually of 
 favors and disgraces, whereby they may not know 
 what to expect, and be, as it were, in a wood. Of 
 ambitions, it is less harmful the ambition to prevail 
 in great things, than that other to appear in every 
 thing ; for that breeds confusion, and mars busi- 
 ness ; but yet, it is less danger to have an ambitious 
 man stirring in business, than great in dependen- 
 cies. He that seeketh to be eminent amongst able 
 men, hath a great task, but that is ever good for 
 the public ; but he that plots to be the only figure 
 amongst ciphers, is the decay of a whole age. 
 Honor hath three things in it : the vantage-ground 
 to do good ; the approach to kings and principal 
 
 1 Liable to. 
 
220 ESSAYS. 
 
 persons; and the raising of a man's own fortunes. 
 He that hath the best of these intentions, when he 
 aspireth, is an honest man ; and that prince that 
 can discern of these intentions in another that as- 
 pireth, is a wise prince. Generally, let princes and 
 states choose such ministers as are more sensible of 
 duty than of rising, and such as love business rather 
 upon conscience than upon bravery ; and let them 
 discern a busy nature from a willing mind. 
 
 XXXVII. — OF MASQUES AND TRIUMPHS. 
 
 These things are but toys to come amongst such 
 serious observations ; but yet, since princes will 
 have such things, it is better they should be graced 
 with elegancy, than daubed with cost. Dancing to 
 song is a thing of great state and pleasure. I un- 
 derstand it that the song be in choir, placed aloft, 
 and accompanied with some broken music, and the 
 ditty fitted to the device. Acting in song, especially 
 in dialogues, hath an extreme good grace ; I say 
 acting, not dancing (for that is a mean and vulgar 
 thing) ; and the voices of the dialogue would be 
 strong and manly (a base and a tenor, no treble), 
 and the ditty high and tragical, not nice or dainty. 
 Several choirs, placed one over against another, and 
 taking the voices by catches anthem-wise, give great 
 pleasure. Turning dances into figure is a childish 
 
OF MASQUES AND TRIUMPHS. 221 
 
 curiosity ; and, generally, let it be noted, that those 
 thinsrs which I here set down are such as do natu- 
 rally take the sense, and not respect petty wonder- 
 ments. It is true, the alterations of scenes, so it be 
 quietly and without noise, are things of great beauty 
 and pleasure : for they feed and relieve the eye 
 before it be full of the same object. Let the scenes 
 abound with light, specially colored and varied ; 
 and let the masquers, or any other that are to come 
 down from the scene, have some motions upon the 
 scene itself before their coming down ; for it draws 
 the eye strangely, and makes it with, great pleasure 
 to desire to see that it cannot perfectly discern. Let 
 the songs be loud and cheerful, and not chirpings 
 or pulings ; ^ let the music, likewise, be sharp and 
 loud, and well placed. The colors that show best 
 by candlelight, are white, carnation, and a kind of 
 sea-water green ; and ouches,^ or spangs,^ as they 
 are of no great cost, so they are of most glory. As 
 for rich embroidery, it is lost and not discerned. 
 Let the suits of the masquers be graceful, and such 
 as become the person when the vizors are off; not 
 after examples of known attires, Turks, soldiers, 
 mariners, and the like. Let anti-masques* not be 
 
 1 Chirpings like the noise of young birds. 
 
 2 Jewels or necklaces. 
 
 3 Spangles, or O's of gold or silver. Beckmann says that these 
 were invented in the beginning of the seventeenth century. See 
 Beckmann's Hist, of Inventions (Bohn's Stand. Lib.), vol. i. 
 p. 424. 
 
 * Or antic-masques. These were ridiculous interludes dividing 
 
222 ESSAYS. 
 
 long; they have been commonly of fools^ satyrs, 
 baboons, wild men, antics, beasts, sprites, witches, 
 Ethiopes, pigmies, turquets,-^ nymphs, rustics, Cu- 
 pids, statues moving, and the like. As for angels, 
 it is not comical enough to put them in anti-masques ; 
 and any thing that is hideous, as devils, giants, is, 
 on the other side, as unfit ; but, chiefly, let the mu- 
 sic of them be recreative, and with some strange 
 changes. Some sweet odors suddenly coming forth, 
 without any drops falling, are, in such a company 
 as there is steam and heat, things of great pleasure 
 and refreshment. Double masques, one of men, 
 another of ladies, addeth state and variety ; but all 
 is nothing, except the room be kept clear and neat. 
 
 For justs, and tourneys, and barriers, the glories 
 of them are chiefly in the chariots, wherein the chal- 
 lengers make their entry ; especially if they be drawn 
 with strange beasts, as lions, bears, camels, and the 
 like ; or in the devices of their entrance, or in the 
 bravery of their liveries, or in the goodly furniture of 
 their horses and armor. But enough of these toys. 
 
 the acts of the more serious masque. These were performed by- 
 hired actors, while the masque was played by ladies and gen- 
 tlemen. The rule was, the characters were to be neither serious 
 nor hideous. The "Comus" of Milton is an admirable specimen 
 of a masque. 
 1 Turks. 
 
OF NATURE IN MEN. 223 
 
 XXXVIIL — OF NATURE IN MEN. 
 
 Nature is often hidden, sometimes overcome, sel- 
 dom extinguished. Force maketh nature more vio- 
 lent in the return; doctrine and discourse maketh 
 nature less importune, but custom only doth alter 
 and subdue nature. He that seeketh victory over 
 his nature, let him not set himself too great nor too 
 small tasks ; for the first will make him dejected by 
 often failings, and the second will make him a small 
 proceeder, though by often prevailings. And at the 
 first, let him practise with helps, as swimmers do 
 with bladders, or rushes ; but, after a time, let him 
 practise with disadvantages, as dancers do with thick 
 shoes ; for it breeds great perfection, if the practice 
 be harder than the use. Where nature is mighty, 
 and therefore the victory hard, the degrees had need 
 be, first, to stay and arrest nature in time ; like to 
 him that would say over the four and twenty letters 
 when he was angry ; then to go less in quantity : as 
 if one should, in forbearing wine, come from drinking 
 healths to a draught at a meal ; and, lastly, to dis- 
 continue altogether ; but if a man have the fortitude 
 and resolution to enfranchise himself at once, that is 
 the best : — 
 
 *' Optimus ille animi vindex Isedentia pectus 
 Vincula qui nipit, dedoluitque semel." i 
 
 1 '• He is the best asserter of the liberty of his mind, who bursts 
 the chains that gall his breast, and at the same moment ceases to 
 grieve." — This quotation is from Ovid's Remedy of Love, 293. 
 
224 ESSAYS. 
 
 Neither is the ancient rule amiss, to bend nature as 
 a wand to a contrary extreme, whereby to set it 
 right ; understanding it where the contrary extreme 
 is no \nce. Let not a man force a habit upon him- 
 self ^vith a perpetual continuance, but with some 
 intermission, for both the pause reinforceth the new 
 onset ; and if a man that is not perfect be ever in 
 practice, he shall as well practise his errors as his 
 abilities, and induce one habit of both ; and there is 
 no means to help this but by seasonable intermis- 
 sions. But let not a n^an trust his victory over his 
 nature too far ; for nature will lie buried a great 
 time, and yet revive upon the occasion or tempta- 
 tion ; like as it was with yEsop's damsel, turned 
 from a cat to a woman, who sat very demurely at the 
 board's end till a mouse ran before her. Therefore, 
 let a man either avoid the occasion altogether, or put 
 himself often to it, that he may be little moved with 
 it. A man's nature is best perceived in privateness, 
 for there is no affectation ; in passion, for that put- 
 teth a man out of his precepts ; and in a new case 
 or experiment, for there custom leaveth him. They 
 are happy men whose natures sort with their voca- 
 tions; otherwise they may say, ^^Multum incola fuit 
 anima mea," ^ when they converse in those things 
 they do not affect. In studies, whatsoever a man 
 commandeth upon himself, let him set hours for it : 
 but whatsoever is agreeable to his nature, let him 
 take no care for any set times ; for his thoughts will 
 
 1 ** My soul has long been a sojourner." 
 
OF CUSTOM AND EDUCATION. 225 
 
 fly to it of themselves, so as the spaces of other busi- 
 ness or studies will suffice. A man's nature runs 
 cither to herbs or weeds ; therefore, let him seasona- 
 bly water the one, and destroy the other. 
 
 XXXIX.— OF CUSTOM AND EDUCATIOK 
 
 Men's thoughts are much according to their incli- 
 nation ; ^ their discourse and speeches according to 
 their learning and infused opinions ; but their deeds 
 are, after, as they have been accustomed ; and, there- 
 fore, as Machiavel well noteth (though in an evil- 
 favored instance), there is no trusting to the force of 
 nature, nor to the bravery of words, except it be cor- 
 roborate by custom.*^ His instance is, that, for the 
 achieving of a desperate conspiracy, a man should 
 not rest upon the fierceness of any man's nature, or 
 his resolute undertakings, but take such a one as 
 hath had his hands formerly in blood ; but Machiavel 
 knew not of a Friar Clement,^ nor a Ravaillac,* nor a 
 
 1 **The wish is father to the thought," is a proverbial saying 
 of similar meaning, 
 
 2 Vide Disc. Sop. Liv. iii. 6. 
 
 ^ Jaccpies Clement, a Dominican friar, who assassinated Henry 
 III. of France, in 1589. The sombre fanatic was but twenty-five 
 year of age ; and he had announced the intention of killing with 
 his own hands the great enemy of his faith. He was instigated by 
 the Leaguers, and particularly by the Duchess of ]\Iontpensier, the 
 sister of the Duke of Guise. 
 
 * He murdered Henry IV. of France, in 1610. 
 15 
 
226 ESSAYS. 
 
 Jaureguy/ nor a Baltazar Gerard ; ^ yet his rule 
 holdeth still, that nature, nor the engagement of 
 words, are not so forcible as custom. Only super- 
 stition is now so well advanced, that men of the first 
 blood are as firm as butchers by occupation ; and 
 votary ^ resolution is made equipollent to custom, 
 even in matter of blood. In other things, the pre- 
 dominancy of custom is everywhere visible, insomuch 
 as a man would wonder to hear men profess, protest, 
 engage, give great words, and then do just as they 
 have done before, as if tliey were dead images and 
 engines, moved only by the wheels of custom. "We 
 see, also, the reign or tyranny of custom, what it is. 
 The Indians ^ (I mean the sect of their wise men) 
 lay themselves quietly upon a stack of wood, and so 
 sacrifice themselves by fire ; nay, the wives strive to 
 be burned with the corpses of their husbands. The 
 lads of Sparta, of ancient time, were wont to be 
 scourged upon the altar of Diana, without so much 
 as quecking.^ I remember, in the beginning of 
 Queen Elizabeth's time of England, an Irish rebel 
 condemned, put up a petition to the deputy that he 
 
 1 Philip II. of Spain having, in 1582, set a price upon the head 
 of William of Nassau, Prince of Orange, the leader of the Prot- 
 estants, Jaureguy attempted to assassinate him, and severely 
 wounded him. 
 
 ^ He assassinated William of Nassau, in 15S4. It is supposed 
 that this fanatic meditated the crime for six years. 
 
 ^ A resolution prompted by a vow of devotion to a particular 
 principle or creed. 
 
 * He alludes to the Hindoos, and the ceremony of Suttee, en- 
 couraged by the Brahmins. 
 
 5 Flinching. — Vide Cic. Tuscul. Disp. ii. 14. 
 
OF CUSTOM AND EDUCATION. 227 
 
 might be hanged in a withe, and not in a halter, 
 because it had been so used with former rebels. 
 There be monks in Russia for penance, that will sit 
 a whole night in a vessel of water, till they be 
 engaged with hard ice. ^lany examples may be put 
 of the force of custom, both upon mind and body ; 
 therefore, since custom is the principal magistrate of 
 man's life, let men, by all means, endeavor to obtain 
 good customs. Certainly, custom is most perfect 
 when it beginneth in young years : this we call edu- 
 cation, which is, in effect, but an early custom. So 
 we see, in languages, the tongue is more pliant to all 
 expressions and sounds, the joints are more supple to 
 all feats of activity and motions in youth, than after- 
 wards ; for it is true, that late learners cannot so 
 well take the ply, except it be in some minds that 
 have not suffered themselves to fix, but have kept 
 themselves open and prepared to receive continual 
 amendment, which is exceeding rare. But if the 
 force of custom, simple and separate, be great, the 
 force of custom, copulate and conjoined and colleg- 
 iate, is far greater ; for there example teacheth, 
 company comforteth, emulation quickeneth, glory 
 raiseth ; so as in such places the force of custom is 
 in his exaltation. Certainly, the great multiplication 
 of virtues upon human nature resteth upon societies 
 well ordained and disciplined ; for commonwealths 
 and good governments do nourish virtue grown, but 
 do not much mend the seeds ; but the misery is, that 
 the most effectual means are now applied to the ends 
 least to be desired. 
 
228 ESSAYS. 
 
 XL. — OF FORTUNE. 
 
 It cannot be denied, but outward accidents con- 
 duce much to fortune ; favor, opportunity, death of 
 others, occasion fitting virtue ; but, chiefly, the mould 
 of a man's fortune is in his own hands : " Faber 
 quisque fortunae suae," ^ saith the poet ; and the most 
 frequent of external causes, is that the folly of one 
 man is the fortune of another ; for no man prospers 
 so suddenly as by others' errors. "Serpens nisi 
 serpentem comederit non fit draco." ^ Overt and 
 apparent virtues bring forth praise : but there be 
 secret and hidden virtues that bring forth fortune ; 
 certain deliveries of a man's self, which have no 
 name. The Spanish name, " disemboltura," ^ partly 
 expresseth them, when there be not stonds* nor 
 restiveness in a man's nature, but that the wheels 
 
 1 "Every man is the architect of his own fortune." Sallust, 
 in his letters "De Republica Ordinanda," attributes these words 
 to Appius Claudius Csecus, a Roman poet whose works are now 
 lost. Lord Bacon, in the Latin translation of his Essays, which 
 was made under his supervision, rendered the word "poet" 
 "comicus ;" by whom he probably meant Plautus, who has this 
 line in his " Trinummus " (Act ii, sc. 2) : " Nam sapiens quidem 
 pol ipsus fingit fortunam sibi," which has the same meaning, 
 though in somewhat different terms. 
 
 2 "A serpent, unless it has devoured a serpent, does not become 
 a dragon." 
 
 ^ Or " desenvoltura," implying readiness to adapt one's self to 
 circumstances. 
 
 * Impediments, causes for hesitation. 
 
OF FORTUNE. 229 
 
 of his mind keep way with the wheels of his for- 
 tune; for so Livy (after he had described Cato 
 Major in these words, " In illo viro, tantum robur 
 corporis et animi fuit, ut quocunque loco natus esset, 
 fortunam sibi facturus videretur,") ^ falleth upon that, 
 that he had '* versatile ingenium : " ^ therefore, if a 
 man look sharply and attentively, he shall see For- 
 tune ; for though she be blind, yet she is not in- 
 visible. The way of Fortune is like the milky way 
 in the sky ; which is a meeting, or knot, of a number 
 of small stars, not seen asunder, but giving light 
 together ; so are there a number of little and scarce 
 discerned virtues, or rather faculties and customs, 
 that make men fortunate. The Italians note some 
 of them, such as a man would little think. When 
 they speak of one that cannot do amiss, they will 
 throw in into his other conditions, that he hath 
 " Poco di matto ; " ^ and, certainly, there be not two 
 more fortunate properties, than to have a little of 
 the fool, and not too much of the honest; there- 
 fore, extreme lovers of their country, or masters, 
 were never fortunate ; neither can they be, for when 
 a man place th his thoughts without himself, he goeth 
 not his own way. A hasty fortune maketh an enter- 
 priser and remover (the French hath it better, 
 " entreprenant," or " remnant ") ; but the exercised 
 
 ^ ** In that man there was such great strength of body and mind, 
 that, in whatever station he had been born, he seemed as though 
 he should make his fortune." 
 
 2 **A versatile genius." ^ "A little of the fool." 
 
230 ESSAYS. 
 
 fortune maketh the able man. Fortune is to be 
 honored and respected, and it be but for her daugh- 
 ters, Confidence and Reputation ; for those two Fe- 
 licity breedeth; the first within a man's self, the 
 latter in others towards him. All wise men, to 
 decline the envy of their own virtues, use to ascribe 
 them to Providence and Fortune ; for so they may 
 the better assume them ; and, besides, it is great- 
 ness in a man to be the care of the higher powers. 
 So Csesar said to the pilot in the tempest, " Ceesarem 
 portas, et fortunam ejus." ^ So Sylla chose the 
 name of " Felix," ^ and not of "Magnus;"^ and it 
 hath been noted, that those who ascribe openly too 
 much to their own wisdom and policy, end unfortu- 
 nate. It is written, that Timotheus * the Athenian, 
 after he had, in the account he gave to the state of 
 his government, often interlaced his speech, "and 
 in this Fortune had no part," never prospered in any 
 thing he undertook afterwards. Certainly there be, 
 whose fortunes are like Homer's verses, that have 
 a slide ^ and easiness more than the verses of other 
 poets ; as Plutarch saith of Timoleon's fortune in re- 
 spect of that of Agesilaus or Epaminondas ; and that 
 this should be, no doubt it is much in a man's self. 
 
 1 " Thou carriest Caesar and his fortunes." — Plut. Tit. Ccels. 38. 
 
 2 *' The Fortunate." He attributed his success to the inter- 
 vention of Hercules, to whom he paid especial veneration. 
 
 3 "The Great." — P/m^. Syll. 34. 
 
 4 A successful Athenian general, the son of Conon, and the 
 friend of Plato. 
 
 s Fluency, or smoothness. 
 
OF USURY. 231 
 
 XLL — OF USURY.i 
 
 Many have made witty invectives against usury. 
 They say that it is pity the devil should have God's 
 part, which is the tithe ; that the usurer is the great 
 est Sabbath-breaker, because his plough goeth every 
 Sunday; that the usurer is the drone that Virgil 
 speaketh of: — 
 
 ** Ignavum fucos peons a prsesepibus arcent ; " 2 
 
 that the usurer breaketh the first law that was made 
 for mankind after the fall, which was, "in sudore 
 vultus tui comedes paneni tuum ; " ^ not, '' in sudore 
 vultds alieni ; " * that usurers should have orange- 
 tawny ^ bonnets, because they do Judaize ; that it is 
 against nature for money to beget money, and the 
 like. I say this only, that usury is a " concessum 
 propter duritiem cordis ; " ^ for, since there must be 
 borrowing and lending, and men are so hard of 
 heart as they will not lend freely, usury must be 
 
 1 Lord Bacon seems to use the word in the general sense of 
 "lending money upon interest." 
 
 2 *' Drive from their hives the drones, a lazy race." — Georgics, 
 h. iv. 168. 
 
 3 "In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat thy bread." — Gen. 
 iii. 19. 
 
 * "In the sweat of the face of another." 
 
 5 In the middle ages the Jews were compelled, by legal enact- 
 ment, to wear peculiar dresses and colors ; one of these was orange. 
 
 ^ *' A concession by reason of hardness of heart." He alludes 
 to the words in St. Matthew xix. 8. 
 
232 ESSAYS. 
 
 permitted. Some others have made suspicious and 
 cunning propositions of banks, discovery of men's 
 estates, and other inventions ; but few have spoken 
 of usury usefully. It is good to set before us the 
 incommodities and commodities of usury, that the 
 good may be either weighed out, or culled out ; and 
 warily to provide, that, while we make forth to that 
 which is better, we meet not with that which is 
 worse. 
 
 The discommodities of usury are, first, that it 
 makes fewer merchants; for were it not for this 
 lazy trade of usury, money would not lie still, but 
 would, in great part, be employed upon merchan- 
 dising, which is the ^' vena porta " ^ of wealth in a 
 state. The second, that it makes poor merchants ; 
 for as a farmer cannot husband his ground so well 
 if he sit at a great rent, so the merchant cannot 
 drive his trade so well if he sit^ at great usury. 
 The third is incident to the other two ; and that is, 
 the decay of customs of kings, or states, which ebb 
 or flow with merchandising. The fourth, that it 
 bringeth the treasure of a realm or state into a few 
 hands ; for the usurer being at certainties, and others 
 at uncertainties, at the end of the game most of the 
 money will be in the box ; and ever a state flourish- 
 eth when wealth is more equally spread. The fifth, 
 that it beats down the price of land ; for the em- 
 ployment of money is chiefly either merchandising 
 or purchasing, and usury waylays both. The sixth, 
 
 1 See note to Essay xix. 2 Hold. 
 
OF USURY. 233 
 
 that it doth dull and damp all industries, improve- 
 ments, and new inventions, wherein money would 
 be stirring, if it were not for this slug. The last, 
 that it is the canker and ruin of many men's estates, 
 which, in process of time, breeds a public poverty. 
 On the other side, the commodities of usury are, 
 first, that, howsoever usury in some respect hindereth 
 merchandising, yet in some other it advanceth it ; 
 for it is certain that the greatest part of trade is 
 driven by young merchants upon borrowing at in- 
 terest; so as if the usurer either call in, or keep 
 back his money, there will ensue presently a great 
 stand of trade. The second is, that, were it not for 
 this easy borrowing upon interest, men's necessities 
 would draw upon them a most sudden undoing, in 
 that they would be forced to sell their means (be it 
 lands or goods), far under foot ; and so, whereas 
 usury doth but gnaw upon them, bad markets would 
 swallow them quite up. As for mortgaging or 
 pawning, it will little mend the matter; for either 
 men will not take pawns without use, or, if they do, 
 they will look precisely for the forfeiture. I re- 
 member a cruel moneyed man in the country, that 
 would say, " The devil take this usury, it keeps us 
 from forfeitures of mortgages and bonds." The 
 third and last is, that it is a vanity to conceive that 
 there would be ordinary borrowing without profit; 
 and it is impossible to conceive the number of 
 inconveniences that will ensue, if borrowing be 
 cramped. Therefore, to speak of the abolishing of 
 
234 • ESSAYS. 
 
 usury is idle ; all states have ever had it in one kind 
 or rate, or other; so as that opinion must be sent 
 to Utopia.^ 
 
 To speak now of the reformation and reglement^ 
 of usury, how the discommodities of it may be best 
 avoided, and the commodities retained. It appears, 
 by the balance of commodities and discommodities 
 of usury, two things are to be reconciled ; the one, 
 that the tooth of usury be grinded, that it bite not 
 too much ; the other, that there be left open a means 
 to invite moneyed men to lend to the merchants, 
 for the continuing and quickening of trade. This 
 cannot be done, except you introduce two several 
 sorts of usury, a less and a greater ; for if you 
 reduce usury to one low rate, it will ease the com- 
 mon borrower, but the merchant will be to seek for 
 money; and it is to be noted that the trade of 
 merchandise being the most lucrative, may bear 
 usury at a good rate ; other contracts not so. 
 
 To serve both intentions, the way would be briefly 
 thus : that there be two rates of usury ; the one 
 free and general for all ; the other under license 
 only to certain persons, and in certain places of 
 merchandising. First, therefore, let usury in gen- 
 eral be reduced to five in the hundred, and let that 
 rate be proclaimed to be free and current; and let 
 the state shut itself out to take any penalty for the 
 
 1 The imaginary country described in Sir Thomas More's politi- 
 cal romance of that name. 
 
 2 Regulation. 
 
OF USURY. 235 
 
 same. This will preserve borrowing from any gen- 
 eral stop or dryness ; this will ease infinite borrow- 
 ers in the country ; this will, in good part, raise the 
 price of land, because land purchased at sixteen 
 years' purchase will yield six in the hundred, and 
 somewhat more, whereas this rate of interest yields 
 but five. This, by like reason, will encourage and 
 edge industrious and profitable improvements, be- 
 cause many will rather venture in that kind, than 
 take five in the hundred, especially having been 
 used to greater profit. Secondly, let there be cer- 
 tain persons licensed to lend to known merchants 
 upon usury, at a higher rate, and let it be with the 
 cautions following : Let the rate be, even with the 
 merchant himself, somewhat more easy than that he 
 used formerly to pay; for, by that means, all bor- 
 rowers shall have some ease by this reformation, 
 be he merchant, or whosoever ; let it be no bank or 
 common stock, but every man be master of his own 
 money; not that I altogether mislike banks, but 
 they will hardly be brooked, in regard of certain 
 suspicions. Let the state be answered ^ some small 
 matter for the license, and the rest left to the lender ; 
 for if the abatement be but small, it will no whit dis- 
 courage the lender ; for he, for example, that took be- 
 fore ten or nine in the hundred, will sooner descend 
 to eight in the hundred, than give over his trade of 
 usury, and go from certain gains to gains of hazard. 
 Let these licensed lenders be in number indefinite, 
 
 ^ Be paid. 
 
236 ESSAYS. 
 
 but restrained to certain principal cities and towns 
 of merchandising ; for then they will be hardly able 
 to color other men's moneys in the country, so as 
 the license of nine will not suck away the current 
 rate of five ; for no man will send his moneys far 
 off, nor put them into unknown hands. 
 
 If it be objected, that this doth in a sort author- 
 ize usury, which before was in some places but 
 permissive ; the answer is, that it is better to miti- 
 gate usury by declaration, than to suffer it to rage 
 by connivance.^ 
 
 1 Our author was one of the earliest writers who treated the 
 question of the interest of money with the enlightened views of 
 a statesman and an economist. The taking of interest was con- 
 sidered, in his time, immoral. 
 
 Laws on this matter are extremely ancient. Moses forbids the 
 Jews to require interest of each other. "Thou shalt not lend 
 upon usury to thy brother ; usury of money, usury of victuals, 
 usury of any thing that is lent upon usury : 
 
 "Unto a stranger thou mayest lend upon usury; but unto thy 
 brother thou shalt not lend upon usury."- — Deut. xxiii. 19, 20. 
 
 Among the Greeks, the rate of interest was settled by agree- 
 ment between the borrower and the lender, without any inter- 
 ference of the law. The customary rate varied from ten to thirty- 
 three and one third per cent. 
 
 The Romans enacted laws againvSt usurious interest ; but their 
 legal interest, admitted by the law of the Twelve Tables, was, 
 according to some, twelve per cent., or, to others, one twelfth of 
 the capital, i. e. eight and one third per cent. Justinian reduced 
 it to six per cent. 
 
 In England, the legal rate of interest was, in Henry the Eighth's 
 reign, ten per cent. It was reduced, in 1624, to eight per cent. 
 It was further diminished, in 1672, to six per cent. And defini- 
 tively, in 1713, fixed at five per cent., the ordinary rate of interest 
 
OF YOUTH AND AGE. 237 
 
 XLII. — OF YOUTH AND AGE. 
 
 A MAN that is young in years may be old in 
 hours, if he have lost no time ; but that happeneth 
 rarely. Generally, youth is like the first cogitations, 
 not so wise as the second; for there is a youth in 
 thoughts as well as in ages ; and yet the invention 
 of young men is more lively than that of old, and 
 imaginations stream into their minds better, and, as 
 it were, more divinely. Natures that have much 
 heat, and great and violent desires and perturba- 
 tions, are not ripe for action till they have passed 
 the meridian of their years: as it was with Julius 
 Csesar and Septimius Severus ; of the latter of whom 
 it is said, " Juventutem egit erroribus, imo furoribus 
 plenam;"! and yet he was the ablest emperor, 
 almost, of all the list ; but reposed natures may do 
 well in youth, as it is seen in Augustus Caesar, 
 Cosmus Duke of Florence, Gaston de Foix/ and 
 others. On the other side, heat and vivacity in age 
 is an excellent composition for business. Young 
 men are fitter to invent than to judge, fitter for 
 execution than for counsel, and fitter for new pro- 
 
 throughout Europe. In France, the rates of interest have been 
 nearly similar at the same periods. 
 
 1 "He passed his youth full of errors, of madness even." — 
 Spartian. Vit. Sev. 
 
 2 He was nephew of Louis the Twelfth of France, and com- 
 manded the French armies in Italy against the Spaniards. After 
 a brilliant career, he was killed at the battle of Kavenna, in 1512. 
 
238 ESSAYS. 
 
 jects than for settled business; for the experience 
 of age, in things that fall within the compass of it, 
 directeth them; but in new things abuseth them. 
 The errors of young men are the ruin of business ; 
 but the errors of aged men amount but to this, that 
 more might have been done, or sooner. 
 
 Young men, in the conduct and manage of ac- 
 tions, embrace more than they can hold, stir more 
 than they can quiet ; fly to the end, without consid- 
 eration of the means and degrees ; pursue some few 
 principles which they have chanced upon absurdly ; 
 care not to innovate, which draws unknown incon- 
 veniences ; use extreme remedies at first ; and that, 
 which doubleth all errors, will not acknowledge 
 or retract them, like an unready horse, that will 
 neither stop nor turn. Men of age object too much, 
 consult too long, adventure too little, repent too 
 soon, and seldom drive business home to the full 
 period, but content themselves with a mediocrity of 
 success. Certainly, it is good to compound employ- 
 ments of both ; for that will be good for the pres- 
 ent, because the virtues of either age may correct 
 the defects of both ; and good for succession, that 
 young men may be learners, while men in age are 
 actors ; and, lastly, good for externe accidents, be- 
 cause authority foUoweth old men, and favor and 
 popularity youth; but, for the moral part, perhaps, 
 youth will have the preeminence, as age hath for 
 the politic. A certain rabbin, upon the text, " Your 
 young men shall see visions, and your old men shall 
 
OF YOUTH AND AGE. 239 
 
 dream dreams,"-^ iiiferretli that young men are ad- 
 mitted nearer to God than old, because vision is a 
 clearer revelation than a dream ; and, certainly, 
 the more a man drinketh of the world, the more it 
 intoxicateth ; and age doth profit rather in the pow- 
 ers of understanding, than in the virtues of the 
 will and affections. There be some have an over- 
 early ripeness in their years, which fadeth betimes ; 
 these are, first, such as have brittle wits, the edge 
 whereof is soon turned ; such as was Hermogenes ^ 
 the rhetorician, whose books are exceedingly subtle ; 
 who afterwards waxed stupid. A second sort is of 
 those that have some natural dispositions, which 
 have better grace in youth than in ago ; such as is 
 a fluent and luxuriant speech, which becomes youth 
 well, but not age ; so Tully saith of Hortensius : 
 " Idem manebat, neque idem decebat." ^ The third 
 is of such as take too high a strain at the first, and 
 are magnanimous more than tract of years can up- 
 hold ; as was Scipio Africanus, of whom lAvj saith, 
 in efiect, " Ultima primis cedebant." * 
 
 1 Joel ii. 28, quoted Acts ii. 17. 
 
 2 He lived in the second century after Christ, and is said to 
 have lost his memory at the age of twenty-five. 
 
 ^ ** He remained the same, but with the advance of years was 
 not so becoming." — Cic. Brut. 95. 
 
 * "The close was unequal to the beginning." This quotation 
 is not correct; the words are: " Memorabilior prima pars vit?e 
 quam postrema fuit," — "The first part of his life was more dis- 
 tinguished than the latter." — Livi/ xxxviii. ch. 63. 
 
240 ESSAYS. 
 
 XLIIL — OF BEAUTY. 
 
 Virtue is like a rich stone, best plain set; and 
 surely virtue is best in a body that is comely, though 
 not of delicate features, and that hath rather dig- 
 nity of presence than beauty of aspect ; neither is it 
 always most seen, that very beautiful persons are other- 
 wise of great virtue ; as if nature were rather busy 
 not to err, than in labor to produce excellency ; and 
 therefore they prove accomplished, but not of great 
 spirit, and study rather behavior than virtue. But 
 this holds not always; for Augustus Csesar, Titus 
 Vespasianus, Philip le Bel of France, Edward the 
 Fourth of England,^ Alcibiades of Athens, Ismael 
 the Sophy of Persia, were all high and great spirits, 
 and yet the most beautiful men of their times. In 
 beauty, that of favor is more than that of color ; and 
 that of decent and gracious motion, more than that 
 of favor.2 That is the best part of beauty, which a 
 picture cannot express ; no, nor the first sight of the 
 life. There is no excellent beauty that hath not 
 some strangeness in the proportion. A man cannot 
 tell whether Apelles, or Albert Durer, were the more 
 trifler ; whereof the one would make a personage by 
 
 1 By tlie context, lie would seem to consider "■ great spirit " 
 and "virtue" as convertible terms. Edward IV., however, has 
 no claim to be considered as a virtuous or magnanimous man, 
 though he possessed great physical courage. 
 
 2 Features. 
 
OF DEFORMITY. 241 
 
 geometrical proportions ; the other, by taking the 
 best parts out of divers faces to make one excellent. 
 Such personages, I think, would please nobody but 
 the painter that made them : not but I think a 
 painter may make a better face than ever was ; but 
 he must do it by a kind of felicity (as a musician 
 that maketh an excellent air in music), and not by 
 rule. A man shall see faces, that, if you examine 
 them part by part, you shall find never a good, and 
 yet altogether do well. If it be true that the prin- 
 cipal part of beauty is in decent motion, certainly it 
 is no marvel, though persons in years seem many 
 times more amiable ; " Pulchrorum autumnus pul- 
 cher ; " ^ for no youth can be comely but by pardon ,2 
 and considering the youth as to make up the comeli- 
 ness. Beauty is as summer fruits, which are easy 
 to corrupt, and cannot last ; and, for the most part, 
 it makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of 
 countenance ; but yet certainly again, if it light well, 
 it maketh virtues shine, and vices blush. 
 
 XLIV. — OF DEFORMITY. 
 
 Deformed persons are commonly even with na- 
 ture ; for, as nature hath done ill by them, so do they 
 by nature, being for the most part (as the Scripture 
 
 1 •* The autumn of the beautiful is beautiful." 
 
 2 By making allowances. 
 
 16 
 
242 ESSAYS. 
 
 saith) " void of natural affection ; " ^ and so they 
 have their revenge of nature. Certainly, there is a 
 consent between the body and the mind, and where 
 nature erreth in the one, she ventureth in the other : 
 " Ubi peccat in uno, periclitatur in altero." '^ But 
 because there is in man an election, touching the 
 frame of his mind, and a necessity in the frame of his 
 body, the stars of natural inclination are sometimes 
 obscured by the sun of discipline and virtue ; there- 
 fore, it is good to consider of deformity, not as a sign 
 which is more deceivable, but as a cause which sel- 
 dom faileth of the effect. Whosoever hath any thing 
 fixed in his person that doth induce contempt, hath 
 also a perpetual spur in himself to rescue and deliver 
 himself from scorn ; therefore, all deformed persons 
 are extreme bold ; first, as in their own defence, as 
 being exposed to scorn, but, in process of time, by a 
 general habit. Also, it stirreth in them industry, 
 and especially of this kind, to watch and observe the 
 weakness of others, that they may have somewhat to 
 repay. Again, in their superiors, it quencheth jeal- 
 ousy towards them, as persons that they think they 
 may at pleasure despise ; and it layeth their competi- 
 tors and emulators asleep, as never believing they 
 should be in possibility of advancement till they see 
 them in possession ; so that upon the matter, in a 
 great wit, deformity is an advantage to rising. Kings 
 in ancient times (and at this present in some coun- 
 
 1 Rom. i. 31; 2 Tim. iii. 3. 
 
 - " "Where she errs in the one, she ventures in the other." 
 
 i 
 
OF BUILDING. 243 
 
 tries) were wont to put great trust in eunuchs, 
 because they that are envious towards all are more 
 obnoxious and officious towards one ; but yet their 
 trust towards them hath rather been as to good 
 spials/ and good whisperers, than good magistrates 
 and officers ; and much like is the reason of deformed 
 persons. Still the ground is, they will, if they be 
 of spirit, seek to free themselves from scorn, which 
 must be either by virtue or malice ; and, therefore, 
 let it not be marvelled, if sometimes they prove ex- 
 cellent persons ; as was Agesilaiis, Zanger, the son 
 of Solyman,^ ^sop, Gasca president of Peru; and 
 Socrates may go likewise amongst them, with others. 
 
 XLV.— OF BUILDING. 
 
 Houses are built to live in, and not to look on, 
 therefore, let use be preferred before uniformity, ex- 
 cept where both may be had. Leave the goodly 
 fabrics of houses, for beauty only, to the enchanted 
 palaces of the poets, who build them with small 
 cost. He that builds a fair house upon an ill seat,^ 
 committeth himself to prison; neither do I reckon 
 it an ill seat only where the air is unwholesome, but 
 likewise where the air is unequal. As you shall 
 see many fine seats set upon a knap^ of ground 
 
 1 Spies. 2 Solynian the Magnificent, Sultan of the Turks. 
 
 8 Site. * Knoll. 
 
244 ESSAYS. 
 
 environed with higher hills round about it, whereby 
 the heat of the sun is pent in, and the wind gather- 
 eth as in troughs ; so as you shall have, and that 
 suddenly, as great diversity of heat and cold as if 
 you dwelt in several places. Neither is it ill air 
 only that maketh an ill seat ; but ill ways, ill mar- 
 kets, and, if you will consult with Momus,^ ill neigh- 
 bors. I speak not of many more : want of water, 
 want of wood, shade, and shelter, want of fruitful- 
 ness, and mixture of grounds of several natures ; 
 want of prospect, want of level grounds, want of 
 places at some near distance for sports of hunting, 
 hawking, and races ; too near the sea, too remote ; 
 having the commodity of navigable rivers, or the 
 discommodity of their overflowing ; too far off from 
 great cities, which may hinder business ; or too near 
 them, which lurcheth^ all provisions, and maketh 
 every thing dear ; where a man hath a great living 
 laid together, and where he is scanted ; all which, as 
 it is impossible perhaps to find together, so it is good 
 to know them, and think of them, that a man may 
 take as many as he can ; and if he have several 
 dwellings, that he sort them so, that what he want- 
 eth in the one he may find in the other. Lucul- 
 lus answered Pompey well, who, when he saw his 
 stately galleries and rooms so large and lightsome, in 
 one of his houses, said, " Surely, an excellent place 
 
 1 Have a liking for cheerful society. Momus being the god of 
 mirth. 
 
 2 Eats up. 
 
OF BUILDING. 245 
 
 for summer, but how do you do in winter ? " Lucul- 
 lus answered, " Why, do you not think me as wise 
 as some fowls are, that ever change their abode 
 towards the winter ? " ^ 
 
 To pass from the seat to the house itself, we will 
 do as Cicero doth in the orator's art, who writes 
 books De Oratore, and a book he entitles Orator; 
 whereof the former delivers the precepts of the art, 
 and the latter the perfection. We will therefore 
 describe a princely palace, making a brief model 
 thereof; for it is strange to see, now in Europe, 
 such huge buildings as the Vatican and Escurial,^ 
 and some others be, and yet scarce a very fair room 
 in them. 
 
 First, therefore, I say, you cannot have a perfect 
 palace, except you have two several sides; a side 
 for the banquet, as is spoken of in the book of Es- 
 ther,^ and a side for the household ; the one for 
 feasts and triumphs, and the other for dwelling. I 
 understand both these sides to be not only returns, 
 but parts of the front, and to be uniform without, 
 though severally partitioned within; and to be on 
 both sides of a great and stately tower in the midst 
 of the front, that, as it were, joineth them together 
 on either hand. I would have, on the side of the 
 
 1 Plut. Vit. Lucull. 39. 
 
 2 A vast edifice, about twenty miles from Madrid, founded by 
 Philip II. 
 
 2 Esth. i. 5 ; "The King made a feast unto all the people that 
 were present in Shushan the palace, both unto great and small, 
 seven days, in the court of the garden of the king's palace." 
 
246 ESSAYS. 
 
 banquet in front, one only goodly room above stairs, 
 of some forty foot high ; and under it a room for a 
 dressing or preparing place, at times of triumphs. 
 On the other side, which is the household side, I 
 wish it divided at the first into a hall and a chapel, 
 (with a partition between), both of good state and 
 bigness ; and those not to go all the length, but to 
 have at the further end a winter and a summer 
 parlor, both fair ; and under these rooms a fair and 
 large cellar sunk under ground ; and likewise some 
 privy kitchens, with butteries, and pantries, and the 
 like. As for the tower, I would have it two stories, 
 of eighteen foot high apiece above the two wings ; 
 and a goodly leads upon the top, railed, with statues 
 interposed; and the same tower to be divided into 
 rooms, as shall be thought fit. The stairs likewise 
 to the upper rooms, let them be upon a fair open 
 newel,^ and finely railed in with images of wood 
 cast into a brass color, and a very fair landing-place 
 at the top. But this to be, if you do not point any 
 of the lower rooms for a dining-place of servants ; 
 for, otherwise, you shall have the servants' dinner 
 after your own ; for the steam of it will come up as 
 in a tunnel.2 ^jj^ g^ much for the front; only I 
 understand the height of the first stairs to be sixteen 
 foot, which is the height of the lower room. 
 
 Beyond this front is there to be a fair court, but 
 
 1 The cylinder formed by the small end of the steps of winding 
 stairs. 
 
 2 The funnel of a chimney. 
 
OF BUILDING. 247 
 
 three sides of it of a far lower building than the front ; 
 and in all the four corners of that court fair stair- 
 cases, cast into turrets on the outside, and not within 
 the row of buildings themselves ; but those towers 
 are not to be of the height of the front, but rather 
 proportionable to the lower building. Let the court 
 not be paved, for that striketh up a great heat in 
 summer, and much cold in winter ; but only some 
 side alleys with a cross, and the quarters to graze, 
 being kept shorn, but not too near shorn. The 
 row of return on the banquet side, let it be all 
 stately galleries ; in which galleries let there be 
 three or five fine cupolas in the length of it, placed 
 at equal distance, and fine colored windows of 
 several works ; on the household side, chambers of 
 presence and ordinary entertainments, with some 
 bedchambers ; and let all three sides be a double 
 house, without thorough lights on the sides, that 
 you may have rooms from the sun, both for forenoon 
 and afternoon. Cast it, also, that you may have 
 rooms both for summer and winter ; shady for sum- 
 mer, and warm for winter. You shall have some- 
 times fair houses so full of glass, that one cannot 
 tell where to become^ to be out of the sun or 
 cold. For imbowed^ windows, I hold them of 
 good use; (in cities, indeed, upright ^ do better, in 
 respect of the uniformity towards the street;) for 
 they be pretty retiring places for conference; and, 
 
 ^ "Where to go. 2 Bow, or bay, windows. 
 
 3 Flush with the wall. 
 
248 ESSAYS. 
 
 besides, they keep both the wind and sun off; for 
 that which would strike almost through the room 
 doth scarce pass the window : but let them be but 
 few, four in the court, on the sides only. 
 
 Beyond this court, let there be an inward court, 
 of the same square and height, which is to be envi- 
 roned with the garden on all sides ; and in the 
 inside, cloistered on all sides upon decent and 
 beautiful arches, as high as the first story; on the 
 under story towards the garden, let it be turned 
 to grotto, or place of shade, or estivation ; and only 
 have opening and windows towards the garden, and 
 be level upon the floor, no whit sunk under ground 
 to avoid all dampishness; and let there be a foun- 
 tain, or some fair work of statues in the midst of 
 this court., and to be paved as the other court was. 
 These buildings to be for privy lodgings on both 
 sides, and the end for privy galleries; whereof you 
 must foresee that one of them be for an infirmary, 
 if the prince or any special person should be sick, 
 with chambers, bedchamber, " anticamera," ^ and 
 "recamera,"^ joining to it; this upon the second 
 story. Upon the ground story, a fair gallery, open, 
 upon pillars ; and upon the third story, likewise, 
 an open gallery upon pillars, to take the prospect 
 and freshness of the garden. At both corners of 
 the further side, by way of return, let there be 
 two delicate or rich cabinets, daintily paved, richly 
 hanged, glazed with crystalline glass, and a rich 
 
 1 Antechamber. 2 Withdrawing-room. 
 
OF GARDENS. 249 
 
 cupola in the midst, and all other elegancy that can 
 be thought upon. In the upper gallery, too, I wish 
 that there may be, if the place will yield it, some 
 fountains running in divers places from the wall, 
 with some fine avoidances.^ And thus much for 
 the model of the palace, save that you must have, 
 before you come to the front, three courts : a green 
 court plain, with a wall about it ; a second court of 
 the same, but more garnished with little turrets, or 
 rather embellishments, upon the wall ; and a third 
 court, to make a square with the front, but not to be 
 built, nor yet inclosed with a naked wall, but in- 
 closed with terraces leaded aloft, and fairly gar- 
 nished on the three sides, and cloistered on the 
 inside with pillars, and not with arches below. As 
 for offices, let them stand at distance, with some low 
 galleries to pass from them to the palace itself. 
 
 XLVL — OF GARDENS. 
 
 God Almighty first planted a garden; and, in- 
 deed, it is the purest of human pleasures ; it is the 
 greatest refreshment to the spirits of man ; without 
 which buildings and palaces are but gross handy- 
 works ; and a man shall ever see, that, when ages 
 grow to civility and elegancy, men come to build 
 stately, sooner than to garden finely ; as if garden- 
 
 ^ Watercourses. 
 
250 ESSAYS. 
 
 ing were the greater perfection. I do hold it, in 
 the royal ordering of gardens, there ought to be 
 gardens for all the months in the year, in which, 
 severally, things of beauty may be then in season. 
 For December, and January, and the latter part of 
 November, you must take such things as are green 
 all winter: holly, ivy, bays, juniper, cypress-trees, 
 yew, pineapple-trees ; ^ fir-trees, rosemary, lavender ; 
 periwinkle, the white, the purple, and the blue ; 
 germander, flags, orange-trees, lemon-trees, and myr- 
 tles, if they be stoved;^ and sweet marjoram, warm 
 set. There followeth, for the latter part of January 
 and February, the mezereon-tree, which then blossoms ; 
 crocus vernus, both the yellow and the gray ; prim- 
 roses, anemones, the early tulip, the hyacinthus 
 orientalis, chamairis fritellaria. For March, there 
 come violets, especially the single blue, which are 
 the earliest ; the yellow daffodil, the daisy, the 
 almond-tree in blossom, the peach-tree in blossom, 
 the cornelian-tree in blossom, sweet-brier. In April, 
 follow the double white violet, the wall-flower, the 
 stock-gillyflower, the cowslip, flower-de-luces, and 
 lilies of all natures ; rosemary flowers, the tulip, the 
 double peony, the pale daffodil, the French honey- 
 suckle, the cherry-tree in blossom, the damascene^ 
 and plum-trees in blossom, the white thorn in 
 leaf, the lilac-tree. In May and June come pinks 
 of all sorts, especially the blush-pink; roses of all 
 
 1 Pine trees. ^ Kept warm in a greenhouse. 
 
 8 The damson, or plum of Damascus. 
 
OF GARDENS. 251 
 
 kinds, except the musk, which comes later; honey- 
 suckles, strawberries, bugloss, columbine, the French 
 marigold, flos Africanus, cherry-tree in fruit, ribes,^ 
 figs in fruit, rasps, vine-flowers, lavender in flowers, 
 the sweet satyrian, with the white flower; herba 
 muscaria, lilium convallium, the apple-tree in blos- 
 som. In July come gillyflowers of all varieties, 
 musk-roses, the lime-tree in blossom, early pears, and 
 plums in fruit, genitings,^ codlins. In August come 
 plums of all sorts in fruit, pears, apricots, barberries, 
 filberts, musk-melons, monks-hoods, of all colors. In 
 September come grapes, apples, poppies of all colors, 
 peaches, melocotones,^ nectarines, cornelians,* war- 
 dens/ quinces. In October, and the beginning of 
 November, come services, medlars, bullaces, roses cut 
 or removed to come late, hollyoaks, and such like. 
 These particulars are for the climate of London ; 
 but my meaning is perceived, that you may have 
 "ver perpetuum,"^ as the place affords. 
 
 And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter 
 in the air (where it comes and goes, like the war- 
 bling of music), than in the hand, therefore nothing 
 is more fit for that delight, than to know what be 
 
 1 Currants. 
 
 2 An apple that is gathered very esivly. 
 
 ^ A kind of qmnce, so called from "cotoueum," or "cydonium," 
 the Latin name of the quince. 
 
 * The fruit of the cornel-tree. 
 
 ^ The warden was a large pear, so called from its keeping well. 
 Warden-pie was formerly much esteemed in this country. 
 
 ^ Perpetual spring. 
 
252 ESSAYS. 
 
 the flowers and plants that do best perfume the 
 air. Roses, damask and red, are fast flowers^ of 
 their smell, so that you may walk by a whole row 
 of them, and find nothing of their sweetness; yea, 
 though it be in a morning's dew. Bays, likewise, 
 yield no smell as they grow, rosemary little, nor 
 sweet marjoram ; that which, above all others, yields 
 the sweetest smell in the air, is the violet, especially 
 the white double violet, which comes twice a year, 
 about the middle of April, and about Bartholomew- 
 tide. Next to that is the musk-rose ; then the 
 strawberry leaves dying, with a most excellent cor- 
 dial smell ; then the flower of the vines, it is a little 
 dust like the dust of a bent,^ which grows upon the 
 cluster in the first coming forth ; then sweet-brier, 
 then wall-flowers, which are very delightful to be 
 set under a parlor or lower chamber window ; then 
 pinks and gillyflowers, specially the matted pink and 
 clove gillyflower ; then the flowers of the lime-tree ; 
 then the honeysuckles, so they be somewhat afar 
 off". Of bean-flowers^ I speak not, because they 
 are field-flowers ; but those which perfume the air 
 most delightfully, not passed by as the rest, but 
 being trodden upon and crushed, are three ; that is, 
 burnet, wild thyme, and water-mints ; therefore you 
 are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure 
 when you walk or tread. 
 
 1 Flowers that do not send forth their smell at any distance. 
 
 2 A species of grass of the genus argostis. 
 ^ The blossoms of the bean. 
 
OF GAKDENS. 253 
 
 For gardens (speaking of those which are indeed 
 prince-like, as we have done of buildings), the con- 
 tents ought not well to be under thirty acres of 
 ground, and to be divided into three parts ; a green 
 in the entrance, a heath, or desert, in the going forth, 
 and the main garden in the midst, besides alleys on 
 both sides ; and I like well that four acres of ground 
 be assigned to the green, six to the heath, four and 
 four to either side, and twelve to the main garden. 
 The green hath two pleasures : the one, because 
 nothing is more pleasant to the eye than green 
 grass kept finely shorn ; the other, because it will 
 give you a fair alley iu the midst, by which you 
 may go in front upon a stately hedge, which is to 
 inclose the garden. But because the alley will be 
 long, and in great heat of the year, or day, you 
 ought not to buy the shade in the garden by going 
 in the sun through the green ; therefore you are, 
 of either side the green, to plant a covert alley, 
 upon carpenter's work, about twelve foot in height, 
 by w^hich you may go in shade into the garden. 
 As for the making of knots or figures, with divers 
 colored earths, that they may lie under the windows 
 of the house on that side which the garden stands, 
 they be but toys ; you may see as good sights many 
 times in tarts. The garden is best to be square, 
 encompassed on all the four sides with a stately 
 arched hedge : the arches to be upon pillars of car- 
 penter's work, of some ten foot high, and six foot 
 broad, and the spaces between of the same dimen- 
 
254 ESSAYS. 
 
 sion with the breadth of the arch. Over the arches 
 let there be an entire hedge of some four foot high, 
 framed also upon carpenter's work ; and upon the 
 upper hedge, over eveiy arch a little turret, with a 
 belly enough to receive a cage of birds ; and over 
 every space between the arches some other little 
 figure, with broad plates of round colored glass gilt, 
 for the sun to play upon ; but this hedge I intend 
 to be raised upon a bank, not steep, but gently 
 slope, of some six foot, set all with flowers. Also, 
 I understand that this square of the garden should 
 not be the whole breadth of the ground, but to leave 
 on either side ground enough for diversity of side 
 alleys, unto which the two covert alleys of the green 
 may deliver you ; ^ but there must be no alleys with 
 hedges at either end of this great inclosure ; not at 
 the hither end, for letting ^ your prospect upon this 
 fair hedge from the green ; nor at the further end for 
 letting your prospect from the hedge through the 
 arches upon the heath. 
 
 For the ordering of the ground within the great 
 hedge, I leave it to variety of device ; advising, 
 nevertheless, that whatsoever form you cast it into 
 first, it be not too bushy, or full of work ; wherein 
 I, for my part, do not like images cut out in juni- 
 per or other garden stuff"; they be for children. 
 Little low hedges, round like welts, with some 
 pretty pyramids, I like well; and in some places 
 fair columns, upon frames of carpenter's work. I 
 
 ^ Bring or lead you. 2 Impeding. 
 
OF GARDENS. 255 
 
 would also have the alleys spacious and fair. You 
 may have closer alleys upon the side grounds, but 
 none in the main garden. I wish, also, in the very 
 middle, a fair mount, with three ascents and alleys, 
 enough for four to walk abreast; which I would 
 have to be perfect circles, without any bulwarks or 
 embossments ; and the whole mount to be thirty 
 foot high, and some fine banqueting-house, with some 
 chimneys neatly cast, and without too much glass. 
 
 For fountains, they are a great beauty and re- 
 freshment ; but pools mar all, and make the garden 
 unwholesome, and full of flies and frogs. Fountains 
 I intend to be of two natures ; the one that sprin- 
 kleth or spouteth water ; the other, a fair receipt of 
 water, of some thirty or forty foot square, but with- 
 out fish, or slime, or mud. For the first, the orna- 
 ments of images, gilt or of marble, which are in 
 use, do well; but the main matter is so to convey 
 the water, as it never stay, either in the bowls or in 
 the cistern ; that the water be never by rest dis- 
 colored, green, or red, or the like, or gather any 
 mossiness or putrefaction ; besides that, it is to be 
 cleansed every day by the hand ; also, some steps 
 up to it, and some fine pavement about it, doth well. 
 As for the other kind of fountain, which we may 
 call a bathing-pool, it may admit much curiosity 
 and beauty, wherewith we will not trouble our- 
 selves : as, that the bottom be finely paved, and 
 with images ; the sides likewise ; and, withal, em- 
 bellished with colored glass, and such things of 
 
256 ESSAYS. 
 
 lustre ; encompassed, also, with fine rails of low 
 statues. But the main point is the same that we 
 mentioned in the former kind of fountain ; which 
 is, that tlie water be in perpetual motion, fed by a 
 water higher than the pool, and delivered into it by 
 fair spouts, and then discharged away under ground, 
 by some equality of bores, that it stay little ; and 
 for fine devices, of arching water ^ without spilling, 
 and making it rise in several forms (of feathers, 
 drinking-glasses, canopies, and the like), they be 
 pretty things to look on, but nothing to health and 
 sweetness. 
 
 For the heath, which was the third part of our 
 plot, I wish it to be framed as much as may be to 
 a natural wildness. Trees I would have none in it, 
 but some thickets made only of sweet-brier and 
 honeysuckle, and some wild vine amongst ; and the 
 ground set with violets, strawberries, and primroses ; 
 for these are sweet, and prosper in the shade, and 
 these to be in the heath here and there, not in any 
 order. I like also little heaps, in the nature of 
 molehills (such as are in wild heaths), to be set, 
 some with wild thyme, some with pinks, some with 
 germander, that gives a good flower to the eye ; 
 some with periwinkle, some with violets, some with 
 strawberries, some with cowslips, some with daisies, 
 some with red roses, some with lilium convallium,^ 
 
 1 Causing tlie water to fall in a perfect arch, without any spray- 
 escaping from the jet. 
 
 2 Lilies of the valley. 
 
OF GARDENS. 25? 
 
 some with sweet-williams red, some Avith bear's- 
 foot, and the like low flowers, being withal sweet 
 and sightly ; part of which heaps to be with stand- 
 ards of little bushes pricked upon their top, and 
 part without ; the standards to be roses, juniper, 
 holly, barberries (but here and there, because of 
 the smell of their blossom), red currants, gooseber- 
 ries, rosemary, bays, sweetbrier, and such like; but 
 these standards to be kept with cutting, that they 
 grow not out of course. 
 
 For the side grounds, you are to fill them with 
 variety of alleys, private, to give a full shade ; some 
 of them wheresoever the sun be. You are to frame 
 some of them likewise for shelter, that when the 
 wind blows sharp, you may walk as in a gallery : 
 and those alleys must be likewise hedged at both 
 ends, to keep out the wind ; and these closer alleys 
 must be ever finely gravelled, and no grass, because 
 of going wet. In many of these alleys, likewise, you 
 are to set fruit-trees of all sorts, as well upon the 
 walls as in ranges ; ^ and this should be generally 
 observed, that the borders wherein you plant your 
 fruit-trees be fair, and large, and low, and not steep ; 
 and set with fine flowers, but thin and sparingly, 
 lest they deceive ^ the trees. At the end of both the 
 side grounds I would have a mount of some pretty 
 height, leaving the wall of the inclosure breast high, 
 to look abroad into the fields. 
 
 For the main garden, I do not deny but there 
 
 1 Tn rows. 2 Insidiously subtract nourishment from. 
 
 17 
 
258 ESSAYS. 
 
 should be some fair alleys ranged on both sides with 
 fruit-trees, and some pretty tufts of fruit-trees and 
 arbors with seats, set in some decent order ; but 
 these to be by no means set too thick, but to leave 
 the main garden so as it be not close, but the air 
 open and free. For as for shade, I would have you 
 rest upon the alleys of the side grounds, there to 
 walk, if you be disposed, in the heat of the year or 
 day ; but to make account ^ that the main garden is 
 for the more temperate parts of the year, and in the 
 heat of summer for the morning and the evening or 
 overcast days. 
 
 For aviaries, I like them not, except they be of 
 that largeness as they may be turfed, and have living 
 plants and bushes set in them ; that the birds may 
 have more scope and natural nestling, and that no 
 foulness appear in the floor of the aviary. So I 
 have made a platform of a princely garden, partly by 
 precept, partly by drawing ; not a model, but some 
 general lines of it ; and in this I have spared for no 
 cost. But it is nothing for great princes, that, for 
 the most part, taking advice with workmen, with no 
 less cost set their things together, and sometimes add 
 statues and such things for state and magnificence, 
 but nothing to the true pleasure of a garden. 
 
 1 To consider or expect. 
 
OF NEGOTIATINa. 259 
 
 XLYIL — OF NEGOTIATING. 
 
 It is generally better to deal by speech than by 
 letter ; and by the mediation of a third, than by a 
 man's self. Letters are good, when a man would 
 draw an answer by letter back again ; or when it 
 may serve for a man's justification afterwards to 
 produce his own letter, or where it may be danger 
 to be interrupted or heard by pieces. To deal in 
 person is good, when a man's face breedeth regard, 
 as commonly with inferiors ; or in tender cases, 
 where a man's eye upon the countenance of him with 
 whom he speaketh, may give him a direction how far 
 to go ; and, generally, where a man will resei^ve to 
 himself liberty, either to disavow or to expound. In 
 choice of instruments, it is better to choose men of 
 a plainer sort, that are like to do that that is com- 
 mitted to them, and to report back again faithfully 
 the success, than those that are cunning to contrive 
 out of other men's business somewhat to grace them- 
 selves, and will help the matter in report, for satis- 
 faction sake. Use also such persons as affect ^ the 
 business wherein they are employed, for that quick- 
 eneth much ; and such as are fit for the matter, 
 as bold men for expostulation, fairspoken men for 
 persuasion, crafty men for inquiry and observation, 
 fro ward and absurd men for business that doth not 
 
 1 Love, are pleased with. 
 
260 ESSAYS. 
 
 well bear out itself. Use also such as have been 
 lucky and prevailed before in things wherein you 
 have employed them ; for that breeds confidence, 
 and they will strive to maintain their prescription. 
 It is better to sound a person with whom one deals 
 afar off, than to fall upon the point at first, except 
 you mean to surprise him by some short question. 
 It is better dealing with men in appetite,^ than with 
 those that are where they would be. If a man deal 
 with another upon conditions, the start of first per- 
 formance is all ; which a man cannot reasonably 
 demand, except either the nature of the thing be 
 such, which must go before ; or else a man can per- 
 suade the other party, that he shall still need him in 
 some other thing; or else that he be counted the 
 honester man. All practice is to discover, or to 
 work. Men discover themselves in trust, in passion, 
 at unawares ; and, of necessity, when they would 
 have somewhat done, and cannot find an apt pretext. 
 If you would work any man, you must either know 
 his nature and fashions, and so lead him ; or his 
 ends, and so persuade him ; or his weakness and 
 disadvantages, and so awe him ; or those that have 
 interest in him, and so govern him. In dealing with 
 cunning persons, we must ever consider their ends, 
 to interpret their speeches ; and it is good to say 
 little to them, and that which they least look for. 
 
 1 It is more advantageous to deal with men whose desires are 
 not yet satisfied, than with those who have gained all they have 
 wished for, and are likely to be proof against inducements. 
 
OF FOLLOWERS AND FRIENDS. 261 
 
 In all negotiations of difficulty, a man may not look 
 to sow and reap at once ; but must prepare business, 
 and so ripen it by degrees. 
 
 XLVIIL — OF FOLLOWERS AND FRIENDS. 
 
 Costly followers are not to be liked, lest, while 
 a man maketh his train longer, he make his wings 
 shorter. I reckon to be costly, not them alone 
 which charge the purse, but which are wearisome 
 and importune in suits. Ordinary followers ought 
 to challenge no higher conditions than countenance, 
 recommendation, and protection from wrongs. Fac- 
 tious followers are worse to be liked, which fol- 
 low not upon affection to him with whoni they 
 range themselves, but upon discontentment con- 
 ceived against some other; whereupon commonly 
 ensueth that ill intelligence, that we many times see 
 between great personages. Likewise glorious^ fol- 
 lowers, who make themselves as trumpets of the 
 commendations of those they follow, are full of in- 
 convenience, for they taint business through want 
 of secrecy ; and they export honor from a man, and 
 make him a return in envy. There is a kind of fol- 
 lowers, likewise, which are dangerous, being indeed 
 espials ; which inquire the secrets of the house, and 
 
 1 In the sense of the Latin "gloriosus," "boastful," " brag- 
 
262 ESSAYS. 
 
 bear tales of them to others ; yet such men, many 
 times, are in great favor, for they are officious, and 
 commonly exchange tales. The following, by cer- 
 tain estates^ of men, answerable to that which a 
 great person himself professeth (as of soldiers to 
 him that hath been employed in the wars, and the 
 like), hath ever been a thing civil and well taken 
 even in monarchies, so it be without too much pomp 
 or popularity. But the most honorable kind of fol- 
 lowing, is to be followed as one that apprehendetli 
 to advance virtue and desert in all sorts of persons ; 
 and yet, where there is no eminent odds in suffi- 
 ciency, it is better to take with the more passable, 
 than with the more able ; and, besides, to speak 
 truth in base times, active men are of more use than 
 virtuous. It is true, that, in government, it is good 
 to use men of one rank equally ; for to countenance 
 some extraordinarily, is to make them insolent, and 
 the rest discontent, because they may claim a due : 
 but, contrariwise, in favor, to use men with much 
 difference and election is good: for it maketh the 
 persons preferred more thankful, and the rest more 
 officious, because all is of favor. It is good discre- 
 tion not to make too much of any man at the first, 
 because one cannot hold out that proportion. To be 
 governed, as we call it, by one, is not safe, for it 
 shows softness,'^ and gives a freedom to scandal and 
 disreputation ; for those that would not censure, or 
 
 1 Professions or classes. 
 
 2 Weakness, or indecision of character. 
 
OF FOLLOWERS AND FRIENDS. 263 
 
 speak ill of a man immediately, will talk more boldly 
 of those that are so great with them, and thereby 
 wound their honor ; yet to be distracted with many 
 is worse, for it makes men to be of the last impres- 
 sion, and full of change. To take advice of some 
 few friends is ever honorable ; for lookers-on many 
 times see more than gamesters, and the vale best 
 discovereth the hill. There is little friendship in the 
 world, and least of all between equals, which w^as 
 wont 1 to be magnified. That that is, is between 
 superior and inferior,^ whose fortunes may compre- 
 hend the one the other. 
 
 1 He probably alludes to the ancient stories of the friendship of 
 Orestes and Pylades, Theseus and Pirithoils, Damon and Pythias, 
 and others, and the maxims of the ancient philosophers. Aristotle 
 considers that equality in circumstances and station is one requisite 
 of friendship. Seneca and Quintus Curtius express the same opin- 
 ion. It seems hardly probable that Lord Bacon reflected deeply 
 when he penned this passage, for between equals, jealousy, the 
 most insidious of all the enemies of friendship, has the least chance 
 of originating. Dr. Johnson says: " Friendship is seldom lasting 
 but between equals, or where the superiority on one side is reduced 
 by some equivalent advantage on the other. Benefits which cannot 
 be repaid, and obligations which cannot be discharged, are not 
 commonly found to increase aff'ection; they excite gratitude indeed, 
 and heighten veneration, but commonly take away that easy free- 
 dom and familiarity of intercourse, without which, though there 
 may be fidelity, and zeal, and admiration, there cannot be friend- 
 ship." — The Eambler, No. 64. 
 
 ^ In such a case, gratitude and admiration exist on the one hand, 
 esteem and confidence on the other. 
 
264 ESSAYS. 
 
 XLIX.~OF SUITORS. 
 
 Many ill matters and projects are undertaken; 
 and private suits do putrefy the public good. Many 
 good matters are undertaken with bad minds ; I 
 mean not only corrupt minds, but crafty minds, that 
 intend not performance. Some embrace suits, which 
 never mean to deal effectually in them ; but if they 
 see there may be life in the matter, by some other 
 mean they will be content to win a thank, or take a 
 second reward, or, at least, to make use, in the 
 mean time, of the suitor's hopes. Some take hold 
 of suits only for an occasion to cross some other, 
 or to make an information, whereof they could not 
 otherwise have apt pretext, without care what be- 
 come of the suit when that turn is served ; or, 
 generally, to make other men's business a kind of 
 entertainment to bring in their own : nay, some 
 undertake suits with a full purpose to let them 
 fall, to the end to gratify the adverse party, or com- 
 petitor. Surely, there is in some sort a right in 
 every suit ; either a right of equity, if it be a suit 
 of controversy, or a right of desert, if it be a suit 
 of petition. If affection lead a man to favor the 
 wrong side in justice, let him rather use his coun- 
 tenance to compound the matter than to carry it. 
 If affection lead a man to favor the less worthy in 
 desert, let him do it without depraving ^ or disabling 
 
 1 Lowering, or humiliating. 
 
OF SUITORS. 265 
 
 the better deserver. In suits which a man doth not 
 well understand, it is good to refer them to some 
 friend of trust and judgment, that may report whether 
 he may deal in them with honor ; but let him choose 
 well his referendaries/ for else he may be led by 
 the nose. Suitors are so distasted ^ with delays and 
 abuses, that plain dealing in denying to deal in suits 
 at first, and reporting the success barely,^ and in 
 challenging no more thanks than one hath deserved, 
 is grown not only honorable, but also gracious. In 
 suits of favor, the first cominoj ouj^ht to take little 
 place f so far forth ^ consideration may be had of 
 his trust, that if intelligence of the matter could 
 not otherwise have been had but by him, advantage 
 be not taken ^f the note,** but the party left to his 
 other means, and in some sort recompensed for his 
 discovery. To be ignorant of the value of a suit is 
 simplicity ; as well as to be ignorant of the right 
 thereof, is want of conscience. Secrecy in suits is a 
 great mean of obtaining ; for voicing them to be in 
 forwardness may discourage some kind of suitors, but 
 doth quicken and awake others. But timing of the 
 suit is the principal ; timing, I say, not only in respect 
 of the person that should grant it, but in respect of 
 those which are like to cross it. Let a man, in the 
 
 1 Referees. 2 Disgusted. 
 
 ^ Giving no false color to the degree of success which has at- 
 tended the prosecution of the suit. 
 * To have little effect. 
 5 To this extent. ^ Qf the information. 
 
266 ESSAYS. 
 
 choice of his mean, rather choose the fittest mean, 
 than the greatest mean ; and rather them that deal 
 in certain things, than those that are general. The 
 reparation of a denial is sometimes equal to the first 
 grant, if a man show himself neither dejected nor 
 discontented. " Iniquum petas, ut sequum feras," ^ 
 is a good rule, where a man hath strength of favor ; 
 but otherwise a man were better rise in his suit ; 
 for he that would have ventured at first to have 
 lost the suitor, will not, in the conclusion, lose both 
 the suitor and his own former favor. Nothing is 
 thought so easy a request to a great person as his 
 letter: and yet if it be not in a good cause, it is 
 so much out of his reputation. There are no worse 
 instruments than these general contrivers of suits ; 
 for they are but a kind of poison and infection to 
 public proceedings. 
 
 OF STUDIES.2 
 
 Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for 
 ability. Their chief use for delight, is in private- 
 ness and retiring ; for ornament, is in discourse ; 
 and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition 
 of business ; for expert men can execute, and per- 
 
 1 "Ask what is exorbitant, that you may obtain what is mod- 
 erate." 
 
 2 This formed the first essay in the earliest edition of the work. 
 
OF STUDIES. 267 
 
 haps judge of particulars one by one ; but the gen- 
 eral counsels, and the plots and marshalling of 
 affairs, come best from those that are learned. To 
 spend too much time in studies, is sloth ; to use 
 them too much for ornament, is affectation ; to make 
 judgment wholly by their rules, is the humor of a 
 scholar. They perfect nature, and are perfected 
 by experience ; for natural abilities are like natural 
 plants, that need pruning by study; and studies 
 themselves do give forth directions too much at 
 large, except they be bounded in by experience. 
 Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire 
 them, and wise men use them ; for they teach not 
 their own use ; but that is a wisdom without them 
 and above them, won by observation. Read not to 
 contradict and confute, nor to believe and take for 
 granted, nor to find talk and discourse, but to weigh 
 and consider. Some books are to be tasted, others 
 to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and 
 digested ; that is, some books are to be read only 
 in parts ; others to be read, but not curiously ; ^ 
 and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence 
 and attention. Some books also may be read by 
 deputy, and extracts made of them by others ; but 
 that would be only in the less important arguments 
 and the meaner sort of books ; else distilled books 
 are, like common distilled waters, flashy ^ things. 
 Reading maketh a full man ; conference a ready 
 man ; and writing an exact man ; and, therefore, if 
 
 1 Attentively. ^ Vapid ; without taste or spirit. 
 
268 ESSAYS. 
 
 a man write little, he had need have a great memory; 
 if he confer little, he had need have a present wit ; 
 and if he read little, he had need have much cunning, 
 to seem to know that he doth not. Histories make 
 men wise ; poets, witty ; the mathematics, subtile ; 
 natural philosophy, deep ; moral, grave ; logic and 
 rhetoric, able to contend: "Abeunt studia in mores ;"i 
 nay, there is no stand or impediment in the wit, but 
 may be wrought out by fit studies. Like as diseases 
 of the body may have appropriate exercises, bowling 
 is good for the stone and reins, shooting for the lungs 
 and breast, gentle walking for the stomach, riding 
 for the head and the like ; so, if a man's wit be 
 wandering, let him study the mathematics ; for in 
 demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so 
 little, he must begin again ; if his wit be not apt 
 to distinguish or find difference, let him study the 
 schoolmen, for they are " Cymini sectores." ^ If he 
 be not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one 
 thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study 
 the lawyers' cases ; so every defect of the mind may 
 have a special receipt. 
 
 1 "Studies become habits." 
 
 2 "Splitters of cummin-seeds;" or, as we now say, "splitters 
 of straws," or "hairs." Butler says of Hudibras : — 
 
 "He could distinguish and divide 
 A hair *twixt south and southwest side." 
 
OF FACTION. 269 
 
 LI. — OF FACTION. 
 
 Many have an opinion not wise, that for a prince ' 
 to govern his estate, or for a great person to govern 
 his proceedings, according to the respect of factions, 
 is a principal part of policy ; whereas, contrariwise, 
 the chiefest wisdom is, either in ordering those 
 things which are general, and wherein men of sev- 
 eral factions do nevertheless agree, or in dealing 
 with correspondence to particular persons, one by 
 one; but I say not, that the consideration of fac- 
 tions is to be neglected. Mean men in their rising 
 must adhere ; but great men, that have strength in 
 themselves, were better to maintain themselves in- 
 different and neutral; yet, even in beginners, to 
 adhere so moderately, as he be a man of the one 
 faction, Avhich is most passable Avith the other, com- 
 monly giveth best way. The lower and weaker 
 faction is the firmer in conjunction ; and it is often 
 seen, that a few that are stiff, do tire out a great 
 number that are more moderate. When one of the 
 factions is extinguished, the remaining subdivideth ; 
 as the faction between LucuUus and the rest of the 
 nobles of the senate (which they called " opti- 
 mates"), held out a while against the faction of 
 Pompey and Csesar; but when the senate's au- 
 thority was pulled down, Csesar and Pompey soon 
 after brake. The faction or party of Antonius and 
 
270 ESSAYS. 
 
 Octavianus Caesar, against Brutus and Cassius, held 
 out likewise for a time ; but when Brutus and Cas- 
 sius were overthrown, then soon after Antonius 
 and Octavianus brake and subdivided. These ex- 
 amples are of wars, but the same holdeth in private 
 factions ; and, therefore, those that are seconds in fac- 
 tions do many times, when the faction subdivideth, 
 prove principals ; but many times also they prove 
 ciphers, and cashiered, for many a man's strength is 
 in opposition ; and when that faileth, he groweth 
 out of use. It is commonly seen, that men once 
 placed, take in with the contrary faction to that by 
 which they enter; thinking, belike, that they have 
 the first sure, and now are ready for a new pur- 
 chase. The traitor in faction lightly goeth away 
 with it; for when matters have stuck long in bal- 
 ancing, the winning of some one man casteth them,^ 
 and he getteth all the thanks. The even carriage 
 between two factions procecdetli not always of mod- 
 eration, but of a trueness to a man's self, with end to 
 make use of both. Certainly, in Italy, they hold it a 
 little suspect in popes, when they have often in their 
 mouth, " Padre commune ; " ^ and take it to be a 
 sign of one that meaneth to refer all to the great- 
 ness of his own house. Kings had need beware 
 how they side themselves, and make themselves as 
 of a faction or party ; for leagues within the state 
 are ever pernicious to monarchies ; for they raise an 
 obligation paramount to obligation of sovereignty, 
 
 1 Causes one side to preponderate. ^ << The common father." 
 
OF CEREMONIES AND RESPECTS. 271 
 
 and make the king " tanquam unus ex nobis," ^ as 
 was to be seen in the League of France. When 
 factions are carried too high and too violently, it is 
 a sign of weakness in princes, and much to the 
 prejudice both of their authority and business. The 
 motions of factions under kings, ought to be like the 
 motions (as the astronomers speak) of the inferior 
 orbs, which may have their proper motions, but yet 
 still are quietly carried by the higher motion of 
 ^^ primum mobile." ^ 
 
 LII._OF CEREMONIES AND RESPECTS. 
 
 He that is only real, had need have exceeding 
 great parts of virtue ; as the stone had need to be 
 rich that is set without foil ; but if a man mark it 
 well, it is in praise and commendation of men, as 
 it is in gettings and gains ; for the proverb is true, 
 that "Light gains make heavy purses;" for light 
 gains come thick, whereas great come but now and 
 then. So it is true, that small matters win great 
 commendation, because they are continually in use 
 and in note ; whereas the occasion of any great 
 virtue cometh but on festivals ; therefore it doth 
 
 1 "As one of ns." Henry the Third of France, favoring the 
 league formed by the Duke of Guise and Cardinal De Lorraine 
 against the Protestants, soon found that, through the adoption 
 of that policy, he had forfeited the respect of his subjects. 
 
 2 See a note to Essay 15. 
 
272 ESSAYS. 
 
 much add to a man's reputation, and is (as Queen 
 Isabella ^ said) like perpetual letters commendatory, 
 to have good forms. To attain them, it almost 
 sufficeth not to despise them ; for so shall a man 
 observe them in others ; and let him trust himself 
 with the rest ; for if he labor too much to express 
 them, he shall lose their grace, which is to be natu- 
 ral and unaffected. Some men's behavior is like a 
 verse, wherein every syllable is measured ; how can 
 a man comprehend great matters, that breaketh his 
 mind too much to small observations ? Not to use 
 ceremonies at all, is to teach others not to use them 
 again, and so diminisheth respect to himself; es- 
 pecially they be not to be omitted to strangers and 
 formal natures ; but the dwelling upon them, and 
 exalting them above the moon, is not only tedious, 
 but doth diminish the faith and credit of him that 
 speaks ; and, certainly, there is a kind of conveying 
 of effectual and imprinting passages amongst com- 
 pliments, which is of singular use, if a man can hit 
 upon it. Amongst a man's peers, a man shall be 
 sure of familiarity, and, therefore, it is good a little 
 to keep state ; amongst a man's inferiors, one shall 
 be sure of reverence, and therefore it is good a little 
 to be familiar. He that is too much in any thing, 
 so that he giveth another occasion of satiety, maketh 
 himself cheap. To apply one's self to others, is 
 good, so it be with demonstration that a man doth 
 
 1 Of Castile. She was the wife of Ferdinand of Arragon, and 
 was the patroness of Columbus. 
 
OF PRAISE. 273 
 
 it upon regard, and not upon facility. It is a good 
 precept, generally in seconding another, yet to add 
 somewhat of one's own ; as, if you will grant his 
 opinion, let it be with some distinction ; if you will 
 follow his motion, let it be with condition ; if you 
 allow his counsel, let it be with alleging further rea- 
 son. Men had need beware how they be too perfect 
 in compliments ; for be they never so sufficient oth- 
 erwise, their enviers mil be sure to give them that 
 attribute to the disadvantage of their greater vir- 
 tues. It is loss, also, in business, to be too full of 
 respects, or to be too curious in observing times and 
 opportunities. Solomon saith, ^' He that consider- 
 eth the wind shall not sow, and he that looketh to 
 the clouds shall not reap." ^ A wise man will make 
 more opportunities than he finds. Men's behavior 
 should be like their apparel, not too strait or point 
 device,^ but free for exercise or motion. 
 
 LIII. — OF PRAISE, 
 
 Praise is the reflection of virtue ; but it is glass, 
 or body, which giveth the reflection. If it be from 
 the common people, it is commonly false and naught, 
 
 1 The words in our version are: " He that observeth the wind 
 shall not sow, and he that regardeth the clouds shall not reap. — 
 Ecclesiastes xi. 1. 
 
 2 Exact in the extreme. Point-de-vice was originally the 
 name of a kind of lace of very fine pattern. 
 
 18 
 
274 ESSAYS. 
 
 and rather followeth vain persons than virtuous ; for 
 the common people understand not many excellent 
 virtues. The lowest virtues draw praise from them, 
 the middle virtues work in them astonishment or 
 admiration, but of the highest virtues they have no 
 sense or perceiving at all; but shows and "species 
 virtutibus similes," ^ serve best with them. Cer- 
 tainly, fame is like a river, that beareth up things 
 light and swollen, and drowns things weighty and 
 solid ; but if persons of quality and judgment con- 
 cur, then it is (as the Scripture saith), *'Nomen 
 bonum instar unguenti fragrantis : " ^ it filleth all 
 round about, and will not easily away ; for the odors 
 of ointments are more durable than those of flowers. 
 There be so many false points of praise, that a man 
 may justly hold it a suspect. Some praises proceed 
 merely of flattery ; and if he be an ordinary flatterer, 
 he will have certain common attributes, which may 
 serve every man ; if he be a cunning flatterer, he 
 will follow the arch-flatterer, which is a man's self, 
 and wherein a man thinketh best of himself, therein 
 the flatterer will uphold him most. But if he be an 
 impudent flatterer, look wherein a man is conscious 
 to himself that he is most defective, and is most out 
 of countenance in himself, that will the flatterer entitle 
 him to, perforce, "spretaconscientia."^ Some praises 
 
 1 "Appearances resembling virtues." 
 
 2 "A good name is like sweet-smelling ointment." The words 
 in our version are, "A good name is better than precious ointment. 
 — Ecchsiastes vii. 1. 
 
 2 "Disregarding Ids own conscience." 
 
OF PRAISE. 275 
 
 come of good wishes and respects, which is a form 
 due in civility to kings and great persons, ^^ laudando 
 prsecipere ; " ^ when, by telling men what they are, 
 they represent to them what they should be ; some 
 men are praised maliciously to their hurt, thereby 
 to stir envy and jealousy towards them : " Pessi- 
 mum genus inimicorum laudantium ; " ^ insomuch 
 as it was a proverb amongst the Grecians, that 
 " he that was praised to his hurt, should have a 
 push ^ rise upon his nose ; " as we say that a blister 
 will rise upon one's tongue that tells a lie ; cer- 
 tainly, moderate praise, used with opportunity, and 
 not vulgar, is that which doth the good. Solomon 
 saith : " He that praiseth his friend aloud, rising 
 early, it shall be to him no better than a curse."* 
 Too much magnifying of man or matter doth irri- 
 tate contradiction, and procure envy and scorn. 
 To praise a man's self cannot be decent, except it 
 be in rare cases ; but to praise a man's office ^ or 
 profession, he may do it with good grace, and w^th 
 a kind of magnanimity. The cardinals of Rome, 
 which are theologues,^ and friars, and schoolmen, 
 
 ^ "To instruct under the form of praise." 
 
 2 *'The worst kind of enemies are those who flatter." 
 
 3 A pimple filled with "pus,"or "purulent matter." The word 
 is still used in the east of England. 
 
 4 The words in our version are : " He that blesseth his friend 
 with a loud voice, rising early in the morning, it shall be counted 
 a curse to him." — Proverbs xxvii. 14. 
 
 s In other words, to shoAV what we call an esprit de corps. 
 6 Theologians. 
 
276 ESSAYS. 
 
 have a phrase of notable contempt and scorn towards 
 civil business ; for they call all temporal business of 
 wars, embassages, judicature, and other employments, 
 sbirrerie, which is under-sherifFries, as if they were 
 but matters for under-sheriffs and catchpoles ; though 
 many times those under-sheriffries do more good than 
 their high speculations. St. Paul, when he boasts 
 of himself, he doth oft interlace, " I speak like a 
 fool : " ^ but speaking of his calling, he saith, " Mag- 
 nificabo apostolatum meum."^ 
 
 LIV. — OF VAINGLORY. 
 
 It was prettily devised of ^Esop, the fly sat upon 
 the axle-tree of the chariot-wheel, and said, "What 
 a dust do I raise ! " So are there some vain persons, 
 that, whatsoever goeth alone, or moveth upon greater 
 means, if they have never so little hand in it, they 
 think it is they that carry it. They that are glorious, 
 must needs be factious ; for all bravery ^ stands upon 
 comparisons. They must needs be violent, to make 
 good their own vaunts ; neither can they be secret, 
 and therefore not effectual ; but, according to the 
 
 1 2 Cor. xi. 23. 
 
 2 "I will magnify my apostleship. " He alludes to the words 
 in Romans xi. 13 : "Inasmuch as I am the apostle of the Gentiles, 
 I magnify mine office." 
 
 ^ Vaunting, or boasting. 
 
OF VAINGLORY. 277 
 
 French proverb, '^ Beaucoup de bruit, peu de fruit ; " 
 — " much bruit,^ little fruit." Yet, certainly, there 
 is use of this quality in civil affairs : where there is 
 an opinion ^ and fame to be created, either of virtue 
 or greatness, these men are good trumpeters. Again, 
 as Titus Livius noteth, in the case of Antiochus and 
 the JEtolians,^ there are sometimes great effects of 
 cross lies ; as if a man that negotiates between two 
 princes, to draw them to join in a war against the 
 third, doth extol the forces of either of them above 
 measure, the one to the other; and sometimes he 
 that deals between man and man, raiseth his own 
 credit with both, by pretending greater interest than 
 he hath in either; and in these, and the like 
 kinds, it often falls out, that somewhat is produced 
 of nothing; for lies are sufficient to breed opinion, 
 and opinion brings on substance. In military com- 
 manders and soldiers, vainglory is an essential point ; 
 for as iron sharpens iron, so by glory one courage 
 sharpeneth another. In cases of great enterprise 
 upon charge^ and adventure, a composition of glo- 
 rious natures doth put life into business ; and those 
 that are of solid and sober natures, have more of the 
 ballast than of the sail. In fame of learning, the 
 flight will be slow without some feathers of osten- 
 tation : " Qui de contemnend^ gloria libros scribunt, 
 
 1 Noise. We have a corresponding proverb: "Great cry and 
 little wool." 
 
 2 A high or good opinion. 3 Vide Liv. xxxvii. 48. 
 * By express command. 
 
278 ESSAYS. 
 
 nomen suum inscribunt." ^ Socrates, Aristotle, Galen, 
 were men full of ostentation : certainly, vainglory 
 helpeth to perpetuate a man's memory ; and virtue 
 vras never so beholden to human nature, as it received 
 its due at the second hand. Neither had the fame 
 of Cicero, Seneca, Plinius Secundus,^ borne her age 
 so well if it had not been joined with some vanity 
 in themselves ; like unto varnish, that makes ceilings 
 not only shine, but last. But all this while, when I 
 speak of vainglory, I mean not of that property 
 that Tacitus doth attribute to Mucianus, " Omnium, 
 qu8D dixerat feceratque, arte quadam ostentator ; " ^ 
 for that^ proceeds not of vanity, but of natural 
 magnanimity and discretion ; and, in some persons, 
 is not only comely, but gracious ; for excusations,^ 
 cessions,^ modesty itself, well governed, are but arts 
 of ostentation ; and amongst those arts there is none 
 better than that which Plinius Secundus speaketh 
 
 1 "Those who write books on despising glory, set their names 
 in the title-page." He quotes from Cicero's "Tusculanse Dis- 
 putationes," b. i. c. 15, whose words are; "Quid nostri philoso- 
 phi ? Nonne in his libris ipsis, quos scribunt de contemnenda 
 gloria, sua nomina inscribunt." — "What do our philosophers do? 
 Do they not, in those very books which they write on despising 
 glory, set their names in the title-page?" 
 
 2 Pliny the Younger, the nephew of the elder Pliny, the natu- 
 ralist. 
 
 3 "One who set off every thing he said and did with a certain 
 skill." Mucianus was an intriguing general in the times of Otho 
 and Vitellius. — Hist. xi. 80. 
 
 * Namely, the property of which he was speaking, and not that 
 mentioned by Tacitus. 
 
 ^ Apologies. 6 Concessions. 
 
OF HONOR AND EEPUTATION. 279 
 
 of, which is to be liberal of praise and commenda- 
 tion to others, in that wherein a man's self hath any 
 perfection. For, saith Pliny, very wittily, " In com- 
 mending another, you do yourself right ; " ^ for he 
 that you commend is either superior to you in that 
 you commend, or inferior : if he be inferior, if he be 
 to be commended, you much more ; if he be superior, 
 if he be not to be commended, you much less." 
 Glorious 2 men are the scorn of wise men, the 
 admiration of fools, the idols of parasites, and the 
 slaves of their own vaunts. 
 
 LV. — OF HONOR AND REPUTATIOK 
 
 The winning of honor is but the revealing of a 
 man's virtue and worth without disadvantage ; for 
 some in their actions do woo and affect honor and 
 reputation ; which sort of men are commonly much 
 talked of, but inwardly little admired; and some, 
 contrariwise, darken their virtue in the show of it, so 
 as they be undervalued in opinion. If a man per- 
 form that which hath not been attempted before, 
 or attempted and given over, or hath been achieved, 
 but not with so good circumstance, he shall purchase 
 more honor than by affecting a matter of greater 
 difficulty or virtue, wherein he is but a follower. 
 If a man so temper his actions, as in some one of 
 
 1 Plin. Epist. vi. 17. ^ Boastful. 
 
280 ESSAYS. 
 
 them he doth content every faction or combination 
 of people, the music will be the fuller. A man is 
 an ill husband of his honor that entereth into any 
 action, the failing wherein may disgrace him more 
 than the carrying of it through can honor him. 
 Honor that is gained and broken upon another 
 hath the quickest reflection, like diamonds cut with 
 facets ; and therefore let a man contend to excel any 
 competitors of his in honor, in outshooting them, if 
 he can, in their own bow. Discreet followers and 
 servants help much to reputation : " Omnis fama a 
 domesticis emanat." ^ Envy, which is the canker of 
 honor, is best extinguished by declaring a man's self 
 in his ends, rather to seek merit than fame ; and by 
 attributing a man's successes rather to Divine provi- 
 dence and felicity, than to his own virtue or policy. 
 The true marshalling of the degrees of sovereign 
 honor are these. In the first place are ^' condi- 
 tores imperiorum," '^ founders of states and common- 
 wealths ; such as were Romulus, Cyrus, Csesar, Otto- 
 man,^ Ismael : in the second place are " legislatores," 
 lawgivers, which are also called second founders, or 
 " perpetui principes," * because they govern by their 
 
 1 " All fame emanates from servants." — Q. Cic. de Petit. Consul, 
 V. 17. 
 
 2 "Founders of empires." 
 
 3 He alludes to Ottoman, or Othman I., the founder of the 
 dynasty now reigning at Constantinople. From him, the Turkish 
 empire received the appellation of " Othoman," or "Ottoman" 
 Porte. 
 
 * "Perpetual rulers." 
 
OF HONOR AND REPUTATION. 281 
 
 ordinances after they are gone ; such were Lycurgus, 
 Solon, Justinian, Edgar/ Alphonsus of Castile, the 
 Wise, that made the " Siete Partidas : " ^ in the 
 third place are " liberatores," or ^^ salvatores," ^ such 
 as compound the long miseries of civil wars, or 
 deliver their countries from servitude of strangers or 
 tyrants, as Augustus Caesar, Vespasianus, Aurelia- 
 nus, Theodoricus, King Henry the Seventh of Eng- 
 land, King Henry the Fourth of France: in the 
 fourth place are " propagatores," or " propugnatores 
 imperii,"^ such as in honorable wars enlarge their 
 territories, or make noble defence against invaders : 
 and, in the last place are " patres patrige," ^ which 
 reign justly, and make the times good wherein they 
 live ; both which last kinds need no examples, they 
 are in such number. Degrees of honor in subjects 
 are, first, '' participes curarum,'*^ those upon whom 
 
 ^ Surnamed the Peaceful, who ascended the throne of England 
 A. D. 959. He was eminent as a legislator, and a rigid assertor 
 of justice. Hume considers his reign " one of the most fortunate 
 that we meet with in the ancient English history." 
 
 2 These were a general collection of the Spanish laws, made 
 by Alphonso X. of Castile, arranged under their proper titles. 
 The work was commenced by Don Ferdinand his father, to put 
 an end to the contradictory decisions in the Castilian courts of 
 justice. It was divided into seven parts, whence its name "Siete 
 Partidas." It did not, however, become the law of Castile till 
 nearly eighty years after. 
 
 3 ** Deliverers," or "preservers." 
 
 * " Extenders," or "defenders of the empire." 
 ^ " Fathers of their country." 
 ^ " Participators in cares." 
 
282 ESSAYS. 
 
 princes do discharge the greatest weight of their 
 affairs, their right hands, as we call them ; the next 
 are " duces belli," ^ great leaders, such as are princes' 
 lieutenants, and do them notable services in the 
 wars ; the third are " gratiosi," favorites, such as 
 exceed not this scantling,^ to be solace to the sove- 
 reign, and harmless to the people; and the fourth, 
 " negotiis pares," ^ such as have great places under 
 princes, and execute their places with sufficiency. 
 There is an honor, likewise, which may be ranked 
 amongst the greatest, which happen eth rarely ; that 
 is, of such as sacrifice themselves to death or danger 
 for the good of their country ; as was M. Regulus, 
 and the two Decii. 
 
 LVL — OF JUDICATURE. 
 
 Judges ought to remember that their office is 
 "jus dicere,"* and not "jus dare ; " ^ to interpret 
 law, and not to make law, or give law ; else will it 
 be like the authority claimed by the Church of 
 Rome, which, under pretext of exposition of Scrip- 
 ture, doth not stick to add and alter, and to pro- 
 nounce that which they do not find, and, by show 
 of antiquity, to introduce novelty. Judges ought to 
 
 1 ** Leaders in war." 2 Proportion, dimensions. 
 
 3 •* Equal to their duties." ^ " To expound the law." 
 
 5 " To make the law. " 
 
OF JUDICATURE. 283 
 
 be more learned than witty, more reverend than 
 plausible, and more advised than confident. Above 
 all things, integrity is their portion and proper 
 virtue. " Cursed (saith the law) ^ is he that remov- 
 eth the landmark." The mislayer of a mere stone 
 is to blame ; but it is the unjust judge that is the 
 capital remover of landmarks, when he defineth 
 amiss of lands and property. One foul sentence 
 doth more hurt than many foul examples ; for 
 these do but corrupt the stream, the other corrupt- 
 eth the fountain : so saith Solomon, " Fons turba- 
 tus et vena corrupta est Justus cadens in caus^ su§, 
 coram adversario." ^ The office of judges may have 
 reference unto the parties that sue, unto the advo- 
 cates that plead, unto the clerks and ministers of 
 justice underneath them, and to the sovereign or 
 state above them. 
 
 First, for the causes or parties that sue. " There 
 be (saith the Scripture) that turn judgment into 
 wormwood ; " ^ and surely there be, also, that turn 
 it into vinegar ; for injustice maketh it bitter, and 
 delays make it sour. The principal duty of a judge 
 is to suppress force and fraud ; whereof force is the 
 more pernicious when it is open, and fraud when it 
 
 1 The Mosaic law. He alludes to Deuteronomy xxvii. 17. 
 *' Cursed he he that removeth his neighbor's landmark." 
 
 2 " A righteous man falling down before the wicked is as a 
 troubled fountain and a corrupt spring." — Proverbs xxv. 26. 
 
 3 "Ye who turn judgment to wormwood, and leave off righteous- 
 ness in the earth." — Amos v. 7. 
 
284 ESSAYS. 
 
 is close and disguised. Add thereto contentious 
 suits, which ought to be spewed out, as the surfeit 
 of courts. A judge ought to prepare his way to a 
 just sentence, as God useth to prepare his way, by 
 raising valleys and taking down hills ; so when there 
 appeareth on either side a high hand, violent pro- 
 secution, cunning advantages taken, combination, 
 power, great counsel, then is the virtue of a judge 
 seen to make inequality equal, that he may plant 
 his judgment as upon an even ground. " Qui for- 
 titer emungit, elicit sanguinem ; " ^ and where the 
 wine-press is hard wrought, it yields a harsh wine, 
 that tastes of the grape-stone. Judges must beware 
 of hard constructions and strained inferences ; for 
 there is no worse torture than the torture of laws. 
 Especially in case of laws penal, they ought to have 
 care that that which was meant for terror be not 
 turned into rigor ; and that they bring not upon the 
 people that shower whereof the Scripture speaketh, 
 ^^ Pluet super eos laqueos ; " ^ for penal laws pressed,^ 
 are a shower of snares upon the people. Therefore 
 let penal laws, if they have been sleepers of long, or 
 if they be grown unfit for the present time, be by 
 
 1 " He who wrings the nose strongly brings blood." Proverbs 
 XXX. 33: "Surely, the churning of milk bringeth forth butter, and 
 the wringing of the nose bringeth forth blood; so the forcing of 
 wrath bringeth forth strife." 
 
 2 <« jje will rain snares upon them." Psalm xi. 6: "Upon the 
 wicked he shall rain snares, lire, and brimstone, and an horrible 
 tempest." 
 
 3 Strained. 
 
OF JUDICATURE. 285 
 
 wise judges confined in the execution: "Judicis 
 officium est, ut res, ita tempora rerum," &c.^ In 
 causes of life and death, judges ought (as far as the 
 law permitteth) in justice to remember mercy, and 
 to cast a severe eye upon the example, but a merci- 
 ful eye upon the person. 
 
 Secondly, for the advocates and counsel that plead. 
 Patience ^ and gravity of hearing is an essential part 
 of justice, and an overspeaking judge is no well- 
 tuned cymbal. It is no grace to a judge first to 
 find that which he might have heard in due time 
 from the bar; or to show quickness of conceit in 
 cutting off evidence or counsel too short, or to pre- 
 vent information by questions, though pertinent. 
 The parts of a judge in hearing are four : to direct 
 the evidence ; to moderate length, repetition, or 
 impertinency of speech ; to recapitulate, select, and 
 collate the material points of that which hath been 
 said ; and to give the rule or sentence. Whatsoever 
 is above these is too much, and proceedeth either of 
 glory, and willingness to speak, or of impatience to 
 hear, or of shortness of memory, or of want of a 
 staid and equal attention. It is a strange thing to 
 see that the boldness of advocates should prevail 
 with judges ; whereas, they should imitate God in 
 whose seat they sit, who represseth the presump- 
 
 1 " It is the duty of ca judge to consider not only the facts, but 
 the circumstances of the case."— Ovid. Trist. I. i. 37. 
 
 '^ Pliny the Younger, Ep. B. 6, E. 2, has the observation: 
 " Patientiam . . . quae pars magna justiti^e est;" "Patience, 
 which is a great part of justice." 
 
286 ESSAYS. 
 
 tuous, and giveth grace to the modest ; but it is more 
 strange, that judges should have noted favorites, 
 which cannot but cause multiplication of fees, and 
 suspicion of by-ways. There is due from the judge 
 to the advocate some commendation and gracing, 
 where causes are well handled and fair pleaded, 
 especially towards the side which obtaineth not ; ^ 
 for that upholds in the client the reputation of his 
 counsel, and beats down in him the conceit^ of his 
 cause. There is likewise due to the public a civil 
 reprehension of advocates, where there appeareth 
 cunning counsel, gross neglect, slight information, 
 indiscreet pressing, or an over-bold defence ; and 
 let not the counsel at the bar chop ^ with the judge, 
 nor wind himself into the handling of the cause 
 anew after the judge hath declared his sentence; 
 but, on the other side, let not the judge meet the 
 cause half-way, nor give occasion to the party to say, 
 his counsel or proofs were not heard. * 
 
 Thirdly, for that that concerns clerks and minis- 
 ters. The place of justice is a hallowed place ; and, 
 therefore, not only the bench, but the foot-pace 
 and precincts, and purprise thereof, ought to be 
 preserved without scandal and corruption ; for, cer- 
 tainly, ^' Grapes (as the Scripture saith) will not be 
 gathered of thorns or thistles ; " ^ neither can justice 
 
 1 Is not successful. 
 
 2 Makes him to feel less confident of the goodness of his cause. 
 
 3 Altercate, or bandy words with the judge. 
 
 * ♦* Do men gather grapes of thorns, or figs of thistles ! " — St. 
 Matthew vii. 16. 
 
OF JUDICATURE. 287 
 
 yield her fruit with sweetness amongst the briers 
 and brambles of catching and polling ^ clerks and 
 ministers. The attendance of courts is subject to 
 four bad instruments : first, certain persons that are 
 sowers of suits, which make the court swell, and the 
 country pine : the second sort is of those that engage 
 courts in quarrels of jurisdiction, and are not truly 
 ^^amici curiae," ^ but *' parasiti curiae," ^ in puffing a 
 court up beyond her bounds for their own scraps 
 and advantage : the third sort is of those that may 
 be accounted the left hands of courts ; persons that 
 are full of nimble and sinister tricks and shifts, 
 whereby they pervert the plain and direct courses 
 of courts, and bring justice into oblique lines and 
 labyrinths : and the fourth is the poller and exacter 
 of fees ; which justifies the common resemblance of 
 the courts of justice to the bush, whereunto while 
 the sheep flies for defence in weather, he is sure 
 to lose part of his fleece. On the other side, an 
 ancient clerk, skilful in precedents, wary in pro- 
 ceeding, and understanding in the business of the 
 court, is an excellent finger of a court, and doth 
 many times point the way to the judge himself. 
 
 Fourthly, for that which may concern the sover- 
 eign and estate. Judges ought, above all, to re- 
 member the conclusion of the Roman Twelve Ta- 
 bles,* " Salus populi suprema lex ; " ^ and to know 
 
 1 Plundering. 2 "Friends of the court." 
 
 8 "Parasites," or ** flatterers of the court." 
 
 * Which were compiled by the decemvirs. 
 
 s "The safety of the people is the supreme law." 
 
288 ESSAYS. 
 
 that laws, except they be in order to that end, are 
 but thmgs captious, and oracles not well inspired; 
 therefore it is a happy thing in a state, when kings 
 and states do often consult with judges ; and again, 
 when judges do often consult with the king and 
 state : the one, when there is matter of law inter- 
 venient in business of state; the other, when there 
 is some consideration of state intervenient in matter 
 of law ; for many times the things deduced to judg- 
 ment may be " meum " ^ and " tuum," ^ when the 
 reason and consequence thereof may trench to point 
 of estate. I call matter of estate, not only the parts 
 of sovereignty, but whatsoever introduceth any great 
 alteration, or dangerous precedent, or concern eth 
 manifestly any great portion of people ; and let no 
 man weakly conceive, that just laws and true policy 
 have any antipathy, for they are like the spirits and 
 sinews, that one moves with the other. Let judges 
 also remember, that Solomon's throne was supported 
 by lions ^ on both sides ; let them be lions, but yet 
 lions under the throne, being circumspect that they 
 do not check or oppose any points of sovereignty. 
 Let not judges also be so ignorant of their own right, 
 as to think there is not left to them, as a principal 
 
 1 "Mine." 
 
 2 '♦ Yours." 
 
 3 He alludes to 1 Kings x. 19, 30 : "The throne had six steps, 
 and the top of the throne was round behind ; and tliere were stays 
 on either side on the place of the seat, and two lions stood beside 
 the stays. And twelve lions stood there on the one side and on the 
 other upon the six steps." The same verses are repeated in 1 
 Chronicles ix. 18, 19. 
 
OF ANGER. 289 
 
 part of their office, a wise use and application of 
 laws ; for they may remember what the apostle saith 
 of a greater law than theirs : " Nos scimus quia lex 
 bona est, modo quis e§, utatur legitime." ^ 
 
 LVIL — OF ANGER. 
 
 To seek to extinguish anger utterly is but a 
 bravery ^ of the Stoics. We have better oracles : 
 " Be angry, but sin not ; let not the sun go down 
 upon your anger." ^ Anger must be limited and 
 confined, both in race and in time. We will first 
 speak how the natural inclination and habit, *Ho 
 be angry," may be attempered and calmed ; secondly, 
 how the particular motions of anger may be repressed, 
 or, at least, refrained from doing mischief; thirdly, 
 how to raise anger, or appease anger in another. 
 
 For the first, there is no other way but to medi- 
 tate and ruminate well upon the effects of anger, 
 how it troubles man's life ; and the best time to do 
 this is, to look back upon anger when the fit is 
 thoroughly over. Seneca saith well, "that anger 
 is like ruin, which breaks itself upon that it falls." * 
 
 1 ** We know that the law is good, if a man use it lawfully." — 
 1 Timothy i. 8. 
 
 2 A boast. 
 
 8 In our version it is thus rendered : ** Be ye angry, and sin not ; 
 let not the sun go down upon your wrath." — Epkesians iv. 26. 
 4 Sen. De Ira i. 1. 
 
 19 
 
290 ESSAYS. 
 
 The Scripture exhorteth us " to possess our souls in 
 patience ;" ^ whosoever is out of patience, is out of 
 possession of his soul. Men must not turn bees : — 
 
 " animasque in viilnere ponunt."^ 
 
 Anger is certainly a kind of baseness ; as it appears 
 well in the weakness of those subjects in whom it 
 reigns, children, women, old folks, sick folks. Only 
 men must beware that they carry their anger rather 
 with scorn than with fear ; so that they may seem 
 rather to be above the injury than below it ; which 
 is a thing easily done, if a man will give law to 
 himself in it. 
 
 For the second point, the causes and motives of 
 anger are chiefly three. First, to be too sensible of 
 hurt, for no man is angry that feels not himself hurt ; 
 and therefore tender and delicate persons must needs 
 be oft angry, they have so many things to trouble 
 them, which more robust natures have little sense 
 of: the next is, the apprehension and construction 
 of the injury offered, to be, in the circumstances 
 thereof, full of contempt ; for contempt is that which 
 putteth an edge upon anger, as much, or more, than 
 the hurt itself ; and therefore, when men are ingen- 
 ious in picking out circumstances of contempt, they 
 do kindle their anger much : lastly, opinion of the 
 touch 2 of a man's reputation doth multiply and 
 
 ^ ** In your patience possess ye your souls." — LuTce xvi. 19. 
 
 2 "And leave their lives in the wound." The quotation is from 
 Virgil's Georgics, iv. 238. 
 
 3 Susceptibility upon. 
 
OF ANGER. 291 
 
 sharpen anger ; wherein the remedy is, that a man 
 should have, as Gonsalvo was wont to say, ^' Telam 
 honoris crassiorem." ^ But in all refrainings of 
 anger, it is the best remedy to win time, and to 
 make a man's self believe that the opportunity of 
 liis revenge is not yet come ; but that he foresees 
 a time for it, and so to still himself in the mean 
 time, and reserve it. 
 
 To contain anger from mischief, though it take 
 hold of a man, there be two things whereof you 
 must have special caution : the one, of extreme bit- 
 terness of words, especially if they be aculeate and 
 proper,^ for " communia maledicta " ^ are nothing so 
 much; and, again, that in anger a man reveal no 
 secrets, for that makes him not fit for society : the 
 other, that you do not peremptorily break off in any 
 business in a fit of anger ; but, howsoever you show 
 bitterness, do not act any thing that is not re- 
 vocable. 
 
 For raising and appeasing anger in another, it is 
 done chiefly by choosing of times when men are 
 frowardest and worst disposed to incense them; 
 again, by gathering (as was touched before) all that 
 you can find out to aggravate the contempt : and 
 the two remedies are by the contraries ; the former 
 to take good times, when first to relate to a man an 
 angry business, for the first impression is much ; 
 
 1 ** A thicker covering forhis honor." 
 
 2 Pointed and peculiarly appropriate to the party attacked. 
 8 "Ordinary abuse." 
 
292 ESSAYS. 
 
 and the other is, to sever, as much as may be, 
 the construction of the injury from the point of 
 contempt ; imputing it to misunderstanding, fear, 
 passion, or what you will. 
 
 LYIIL — OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 
 
 Solomon saith, ^* There is no new thing upon 
 the earth ; " ^ so that as Plato ^ had an imagination 
 that all knowledge was but remembrance, so Solo- 
 mon giveth his sentence, '*That all novelty is but 
 oblivion ; " ^ whereby you may see, that the river of 
 Lethe runneth as well above ground as below. 
 There is an abstruse astrologer that saith, if it were 
 not for two things that are constant (the one is, 
 that the fixed stars ever stand at like distance one 
 from another, and never come nearer together, nor 
 go further asunder ; the other, that the diurnal 
 motion perpetually keepeth time), no individual 
 would last one moment ; certain it is, that the mat- 
 ter is in a perpetual flux, and never at a stay. The 
 
 1 " The thing that hath been, it is that which shall be ; and that 
 which is done, is that which shall be done ; and there is no new 
 thing under the sun. Is there any thing whereof it may be said, 
 See, this is new ? It hath been already of old time, which was 
 before us." — Ecclesiastes i. 9, 10. 
 
 2 In his Phsedo. 
 
 8 " There is no remembrance of former things : neither shall 
 there be any remembrance of things that are to come, with those 
 that shall come hereafter." — Ecclesiastes i. 11. 
 
OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 293 
 
 great winding-sheets that bury all things in obliv- 
 ion, are two, — deluges and earthquakes. As for 
 conflagrations and great droughts, they do not 
 merely dispeople, but destroy. Phaeton's car went 
 but a day ; and the three years' drought in the time 
 of Elias,^ was but particular,^ and left people alive. 
 As for the great burnings by lightnings, which are 
 often in the West Indies,^ they are but narrow ; * 
 but in the other two destructions, by deluge and 
 earthquake, it is further to be noted, that the rem- 
 nant of people which happen to be reserved, are 
 commonly ignorant and mountainous people, that 
 can give no account of the time past; so that the 
 oblivion is all one, as if none had been left. If 
 you consider well of the people of the West Indies, 
 it is very probable that they are a newer, or a 
 younger people than the people of the old world; 
 and it is much more likely that the destruction that 
 hath heretofore been there, was not by earthquakes, 
 (as the Egyptian priest told Solon, concerning the 
 
 1 "And Elijah the Tishbite, who was of the inhabitants of 
 Gilead, said unto Ahab, As the Lord God of Israel liveth, before 
 whom I stand, there shall not be dew nor rain these years, but 
 according to my word." — 1 Kings xvii. 1. " And it came to pass 
 after many days, that the word of the Lord came to Elijah in the 
 third year, saying, Go, show thyself unto Ahab ; and I will send 
 rain upon the earth." — 1 Kings XNiii. 1. 
 
 2 Confined to a limited space. 
 
 * The whole of the continent of America then discovered is 
 included under this name. 
 
 * Limited. 
 
294 ESSAYS. 
 
 Island of Atlantis.^ that it was swallowed by an 
 earthquake), but rather that it was desolated by a 
 particular deluge, for earthquakes are seldom in 
 those parts ; but, on the other side, they have such 
 pouring rivers, as the rivers of Asia, and Africa, 
 and Europe, are but brooks to them. Their Andes, 
 likewise, or mountains, are far higher than those 
 with us ; whereby it seems, that the remnants of 
 generations of men were in such a particular deluge 
 saved. As for the observation that Machiavel hath, 
 that the jealousy of sects doth much extinguish 
 the memory of things,^ traducing Gregory the Great, 
 that he did what in him lay to extinguish all 
 heathen antiquities, I do not find that those zeals 
 do any great effects, nor last long ; as it appeared 
 in the succession of Sabinian,^ who did revive the 
 former antiquities. 
 
 The vicissitude, or mutations, in the superior 
 globe, are no fit matter for this present argument. 
 It may be, Plato's great year,^ if the world should 
 last so long, would have some effect, not in renew- 
 
 1 Fide Plat. Tim. iii. 24, seq. 
 
 ^ Mach. Disc. Sop. Liv. ii. 2. 
 
 3 Sabinianiis of Volaterra was elected Bishop of Rome on tlie 
 death of Gregory the Great, A. D. 604. He was of an avaricious 
 disposition, and thereby incurred the popular hatred. He died 
 in eighteen months after his election. 
 
 * This Cicero speaks of as "the great year of the mathema- 
 ticians." "On the Nature of the Gods," B. 4, ch. 20. By some 
 it was supposed to occur after a period of 12,954 years, while, 
 according to others, it was of 25,920 years' duration. — Plat. Tim. 
 iii. 38, seq. 
 
OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 295 
 
 ing the state of like individuals (for that is the 
 fume ^ of those that conceive the celestial bodies 
 have more accurate influences upon these things 
 below, than indeed they have), but in gross. Com- 
 ets, out of question, have likewise power and effect 
 over the gross and mass of things ; but they are 
 rather gazed, and waited upon^ in their journey, 
 than wisely observed in their effects, especially in 
 their respective effects ; that is, what kind of comet 
 for magnitude, color, version of the beams, placing 
 in the region of heaven, or lasting, produceth what 
 kind of effects. 
 
 There is a toy,^ which I have heard, and I would 
 not have it given over, but waited upon a little. 
 They say it is observed in the Low Countries (I 
 know not in what part), that every five and thirty 
 years the same kind and suit of years and weather 
 comes about again ; as great frosts, great wet, great 
 droughts, warm winters, summers with little heat, 
 and the like ; and they call it the prime. It is a 
 thing I do the rather mention, because, computing 
 backwards, I have found some concurrence. 
 
 But to leave these points of nature, and to come 
 to men. The greatest vicissitude of things amongst 
 men, is the vicissitude of sects and religions; for 
 those orbs rule in men's minds most. The true 
 religion is built upon the rock ; the rest are tossed 
 upon the waves of time. To speak, therefore, of 
 
 1 Conceit. 2 Observed. 
 
 3 A curious fancy or odd conceit. 
 
296 ESSAYS. 
 
 the causes of new sects, and to give some counsel 
 concerning them, as far as the weakness of human 
 judgment can give stay to so great revolutions. 
 
 When the religion formerly received is rent by 
 discords, and when the holiness of the professors of 
 religion is decayed and full of scandal, and, withal, 
 the times be stupid, ignorant, and barbarous, you 
 may doubt the springing up of a new sect ; if then, 
 also, there should arise any extravagant and strange 
 spirit to make himself author thereof; all which 
 points held when Mahomet published his law. If a 
 new sect have not two properties, fear it not, for it 
 will not spread. The one is the supplanting or the 
 opposing of authority established, for nothing is more 
 popular than that; the other is, the giving license 
 to pleasures and a voluptuous life ; for as for 
 speculative heresies (such as were in ancient times 
 the Arians, and now the Arminians),^ though they 
 work mightily upon men's wits, yet they do not 
 produce any great alterations in states, except it be 
 by the help of civil occasions. There be three 
 manner of plantations of new sects : by the power 
 of signs and miracles ; by the eloquence and 'W'isdom 
 of speech and persuasion ; and by the sword. For 
 martyrdoms, I reckon them amongst miracles, be- 
 cause they seem to exceed the strength of human 
 
 1 The followers of Arminius, or James Harmensen, a celebrated 
 divine of the 16th and 17th centuries. Though called a heresy by- 
 Bacon, his opinions have been for two centuries, and still are, held 
 by a large portion of the Church of England. 
 
OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 297 
 
 nature ; and I may do the like of superlative and 
 admirable holiness of life. Surely, there is no better 
 way to stop the rising of new sects and schisms, 
 than to reform abuses ; to compound the smaller 
 differences ; to proceed mildly, and not with sangui- 
 nary persecutions ; and rather to take off the prin- 
 cipal authors, by winning and advancing them, than 
 to enrage them by violence and bitterness. 
 
 The changes and vicissitude in wars are many, 
 but chiefly in three things : in the seats or stages of 
 the war, in the weapons, and in the manner of the 
 conduct. Wars, in ancient time, seemed more to 
 move from east to west ; for the Persians, Assyrians, 
 Arabians, Tartars (which were the invaders), were 
 all eastern people. It is true the Gauls were 
 western ; but we read but of two incursions of 
 theirs, the one to Gallo-Grsecia, the other to Rome : 
 but east and west have no certain points of heaven ; 
 and no more have the wars, either from the east or 
 west, any certainty of observation ; but north and 
 south are fixed ; and it hath seldom or never been 
 seen that the far southern people have invaded the 
 northern, but contrariwise : whereby it is manifest 
 that the northern tract of the world is in nature 
 the more martial region, be it in respect of the stars 
 of that hemisphere,^ or of the great continents that 
 are upon the north; whereas, the south part, for 
 aught that is known, is almost all sea; or (which 
 
 1 A belief in astrology, or at least the influence of the stars was 
 almost universal in the time of Bacon. 
 
298 ESSAYS. 
 
 is most apparent) of the cold of the northern parts, 
 which is that which, without aid of discipline, doth 
 make the bodies hardest, and the courage warmest. 
 Upon the breaking and shivering of a great state 
 and empire, you may be sure to have wars ; for 
 great empires, while they stand, do enervate and 
 destroy the forces of the natives which they have 
 subdued, resting upon their own protecting forces ; 
 and then, when they fail also, all goes to ruin, and 
 they become a prey. So was it in the decay of the 
 Roman empire, and likewise in the empire of Al- 
 maigne,^ after Charles the Great,^ every bird taking 
 a feather, and were not unlike to befall to Spain, if 
 it should break. The great accessions and unions 
 of kingdoms do likewise stir up wars ; for when a 
 state grows to an over-power, it is like a great flood, 
 that will be sure to overflow, as it hath been seen 
 in the states of Rome, Turkey, Spain, and others. 
 Look when the world hath fewest barbarous people, 
 but such as commonly will not marry or generate, 
 except they know means to live (as it is almost 
 everywhere at this day, except Tartary), there is no 
 danger of inundations of people ; but when there be 
 great shoals of people, which go on to populate, 
 without foreseeing means of life and sustenation, 
 it is of necessity that once in an age or two they 
 discharge a portion of their people upon other na- 
 tions, which the ancient northern people were wont 
 to do by lot ; casting lots what part should stay at 
 
 1 Germany. 2 Charlemagne. 
 
OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS. 299 
 
 home, and what should seek their fortunes. When 
 a warlike state grows soft and effeminate, thej may 
 be sure of a war, for commonly such states are grown 
 rich in the time of their degenerating; and so the 
 prey inviteth, and their decay in valor encourageth 
 a war. 
 
 As for the weapons, it hardly falleth under rule 
 and observation, yet we see even they have returns 
 and vicissitudes ; for certain it is that ordnance was 
 known in the city of the Oxidraces, in India, and 
 was that which the Macedonians^ called thunder 
 and lightning, and magic ; and it is well known 
 that the use of ordnance hath been in China above 
 two thousand years. The conditions of weapons, 
 and their improvements are, first, the fetching ^ afar 
 off, for that outruns the danger, as it is seen in 
 ordnance and muskets ; secondly, the strength of 
 the percussion, wherein, likewise, ordnance do ex- 
 ceed all arietations,^ and ancient inventions ; the 
 third is, the commodious use of them, as that they 
 may serve in all weathers, that the carriage may be 
 light and manageable, and the like. 
 
 For the conduct of the war: at the first, men 
 rested extremely upon number; they did put the 
 wars likewise upon main force and valor, pointing 
 days for pitched fields, and so trying it out upon 
 an even match; and they were more ignorant in 
 
 1 When led thither by Alexander the Great. 
 
 2 Striking. 
 
 3 ^Application of the "aries," or battering-ram. 
 
300 ESSAYS. 
 
 ranging and arraying their battles. After they 
 grew to rest upon number, rather competent than 
 vast, they grew to advantages of place, cunning 
 diversions, and the like, and they grew more skilful 
 in the ordering of their battles. 
 
 In the youth of a state, arms do flourish ; in the 
 middle age of a state, learning; and then both of 
 them together for a time ; in the declining age of a 
 state, mechanical arts and merchandise. Learning 
 hath its infancy when it is but beginning, and 
 almost childish ; then its youth, when it is luxuriant 
 and juvenile ; then its strength of years, when it is 
 solid and reduced ; and, lastly, its old age, when it 
 waxeth dry and exhaust. But it is not good to look 
 too long upon these turning wheels of vicissitude, 
 lest we become giddy ; as for the philology of them, 
 that is but a circle of tales, and therefore not fit for 
 this writing. 
 
 ^^ 
 
APPENDIX TO ESSAYS. 
 
 I. — A FRAGMENT OF AN ESSAY OF FAME.^ 
 
 The poets make fame a monster; they describe 
 her in part finely and elegantly, and in part gravely 
 and sententiously ; they say, Look, how many feath- 
 ers she hath, so many eyes she hath underneath, so 
 many tongues, so many voices, she pricks up so 
 many ears ! 
 
 This is a flourish : there follow excellent parables ; 
 as that she gathereth strength in going; that she 
 goeth upon the ground, and yet hideth her head in 
 the clouds ; that in the daytime she sitteth in a 
 watch-tower, and flieth most by night; that she 
 mingleth things done with things not done ; and that 
 she is a terror to great cities ; but that which pass- 
 eth all the rest is, they do recount that the Earth, 
 mother of the giants that made war against Jupiter, 
 and were by him destroyed, thereupon in anger 
 brought forth Fame ; for certain it is, that rebels, 
 figured by the giants, and seditious fames and libels, 
 
 1 This fragment was found among Lord Bacon's papers, and 
 published by Dr. Rawley in his Resuscitatio. 
 
302 ESSAYS. 
 
 are but brothers and sisters, masculine and feminine. 
 But now, if a man can tame this monster, and bring 
 her to feed at the hand and govern her, and with 
 her fly other ravening fowl, and kill them, it is some- 
 what worth ; but we are infected with the style of 
 the poets. To speak now in a sad and ser?ous 
 manner, there is not in all the politics a place less 
 handled, and more worthy to be handled, than this 
 of fame. We will, therefore, speak of these points. 
 What are false fames, and what are true fames, 
 and how they may be best discerned ; how fames 
 may be sown and raised ; how they may be spread 
 and multiplied ; and how they may be checked and 
 lay dead; and other things concerning the nature 
 of fame. Fame is of that force, as there is scarcely 
 any great action wherein it hath not a great part, 
 especially in the war. Mucianus undid Vitellius by 
 a fame that he scattered, that Vitellius had in pur- 
 pose to remove the legions of Syria into Germany, 
 and the legions of Germany into Syria; whereupon 
 the legions of Syria were infinitely inflamed.^ Julius 
 Csesar took Pompey unprovided, and laid asleep his 
 industry and preparations by a fame that he cun- 
 ningly gave out, how Csesar's own soldiers loved him 
 not ; and being wearied with the wars, and laden 
 with the spoils of Gaul, would forsake him as soon 
 as he came into Italy.^ Livia settled all things for 
 the succession of her son Tiberius, by continually 
 giving out that her husband Augustus was upon 
 
 1 Tac. Hist. ii. 80. ^ Cses. de Bell. Civ. i. 6. 
 
OF A KING. 303 
 
 recovery and amendment;^ and it is a usual thing 
 with the bashaws to conceal the death of the Grand 
 Turk from the janizaries and men of war, to save the 
 sacking of Constantinople, and other towns, as their 
 manner is. Themistocles made Xerxes, king of 
 Persia, post apace out of Grsecia, by giving out that 
 the Grecians had a purpose to break his bridge of 
 ships which he had made athwart Hellespont.^ 
 There be a thousand such like examples, and the 
 more they are, the less they need to be repeated, be- 
 cause a man meeteth with them everywhere ; there- 
 fore, let all wise governors have as great a watch 
 and care over fames, as they have of the actions and 
 designs themselves. 
 
 II. — OF A KING. 
 
 1. A KING is a mortal God on earth, unto whom 
 the living God hath lent his own name as a great 
 honor; but withal told him, he should die like a 
 man, lest he should be proud and flatter himself, 
 that God hath, with his name, imparted unto him 
 his nature also. 
 
 2. Of all kind of men, God is the least beholden 
 unto them ; for he doth most for them, and they do, 
 ordinarily, least for him. 
 
 1 Tac. Ann. i. 5. 2 yy^, Herod, viii. 108, 109. 
 
304 ESSAYS. 
 
 3. A king that would not feel his crown too heavy 
 for him, must wear it every day ; but if he think it 
 too light, he knoweth not of what metal it is made. 
 
 4. He must make religion the rule of govern- 
 ment, and not to balance the scale ; for he that cast- 
 eth in religion only to make the scales even, his own 
 weight is contained in those characters : '' Mene, 
 mene, tekel, upharsin : He is found too light, his 
 kingdom shall be taken from him." 
 
 5. And that king that holds not religion the best 
 reason of state, is void of all piety and justice, the 
 supporters of a king. 
 
 6. He must be able to give counsel himself, but 
 not rely thereupon ; for though happy events justify 
 their counsels, yet it is better that the evil event of 
 good advice be rather imputed to a subject than a 
 sovereign. 
 
 7. He is a fountain of honor, which should not 
 run with a waste-pipe, lest the courtiers sell the 
 water, and then, as Papists say of their holy wells, 
 it loses the virtue. 
 
 8. He is the life of the law, not only as he is Lex 
 loquens himself, but because he animateth the dead 
 letter, making it active towards all his subjects 
 prwmio et poena. 
 
 9. A wise king must do less in altering his laws 
 than he may ; for new government is ever dangerous. 
 It being true in the body politic, as in the corporal, 
 that omnis subita immutatio est periculosa ; and 
 though it be for the better, yet it is not without 
 
OF A KING. 305 
 
 a fearful apprehension ; for he that changeth the 
 fundamental laws of a kingdom, thinketh there is 
 no good title to a crown, but by conquest. 
 
 iO. A king that setteth to sale seats of justice, 
 oppresseth the people; for he teacheth his judges 
 to sell justice ; and pretio imrata pretio venditur 
 justitia. 
 
 11. Bounty and magnificence are virtues very 
 regal, but a prodigal king is nearer a tyrant than a 
 parsimonious ; for store at home draweth not his 
 contemplations abroad, but want supplieth itself of 
 what is next, and many times the next way. A 
 king therein must be wise, and know what he may 
 justly do. 
 
 12. That king which is not feared, is not loved; 
 and he that is well seen in his craft, must as well 
 study to be feared as loved ; yet not loved for fear, 
 but feared for love. 
 
 13. Therefore, as he must always resemble Him 
 whose great name he beareth, and that as in mani- 
 festing the sweet influence of his mercy on the severe 
 stroke of his justice sometimes, so in this not to 
 suffer a man of death to live ; for, besides that the 
 land doth mourn, the restraint of justice towards 
 sin doth more retard the affection of love, than the 
 extent of mercy doth inflame it ; and sure, where 
 love is [ill] bestowed, fear is quite lost. 
 
 14. His greatest enemies are his flatterers; for 
 though they ever speak on his side, yet their words 
 still make against him. 
 
 20 
 
306 ESSAYS. 
 
 15. The love which a king oweth to a weal public 
 should not be overstrained to any one particular; 
 yet that his more especial favor do reflect upon 
 some worthy ones, is somewhat necessary, because 
 there are few of that capacity. 
 
 16. He must have a special care of five things, 
 if he would not have his crown to be but to him 
 infelix felicitas. 
 
 First, that simulata sanctitas be not in the church ; 
 for that is duplex iniquitas. 
 
 Secondly, that inutilis cequitas sit not in the chan- 
 cery ; for that is inepta misericordia. 
 
 Thirdly, that utilis iniquitas keep not the ex- 
 chequer; for that is crudele latrocinium. 
 
 Fourthly, that fidelis temeritas be not his general ; 
 for that will bring but seram pcEnitentiam. 
 
 Fifthly, that infidelis prudentia be not his secre- 
 tary ; for that is anguis sub viridi herhd. 
 
 To conclude : as he is of the greatest power, so 
 he is subject to the greatest cares, made the servant 
 of his people, or else he were without a calling at all. 
 
 He, then, that honoreth him not is next an atheist, 
 wanting the fear of God in his heart. 
 
ON DEATH. 307 
 
 III. ^ ON DEATH. 
 
 1. I HAVE often thought upon death, and I find 
 it the least of all evils. All that which is past is as 
 a dream ; and he that hopes or depends upon time 
 coming, dreams waking. So much of our life as 
 we have discovered is already dead ; and all those 
 hours which we share, even from the breasts of our 
 mothers, until we return to our grandmother the 
 earth, are part of our dying days, whereof even 
 this is one, and those that succeed are of the same 
 nature, for we die daily ; and, as others have given 
 place to us, so we must, in the end, give way to 
 others. 
 
 2. Physicians, in the name of death, include all 
 sorrow, anguish, disease, calamity, or whatsoever 
 can fall in the life of man, either grievous or un- 
 welcome. But these things are familiar unto us, 
 and we suffer them every hour; therefore we die 
 daily, and I am older since I affirmed it. 
 
 3. I know many wise men that fear to die, for 
 the change is bitter, and flesh would refuse to prove 
 it; besides, the expectation brings terror, and that 
 exceeds the evil. But I do not believe that any 
 man fears to be dead, but only the stroke of death ; 
 and such are my hopes, that if Heaven be pleased, 
 and nature renew but my lease for twenty-one years 
 more without asking longer days, I shall be strong 
 
oiunidi to aokiiowloiliro Avitliout nu>\iniin<;*, that I 
 was boirottcn mortal. Virtuo walks not in tho liigh- 
 way, thouiih she i^-o per dlia : this is strength and 
 tho Mood to virtno. to contonni thiniirs that bo do- 
 sired, and to iiodoot that which is iVarod. 
 
 4. AVhy should man bo in lovo with his fottors, 
 thonirh of £:o\d i Art thou drownod in soourity? 
 Thou I say tluni art portootly doad. For though 
 thou miwost, yet thy soul is buried within thoo, and 
 thy good angol either forsakes his guard, or sloops. 
 There is nothing under heaven, saving a true friend 
 (who cannot be counted within tho nund^er of niov- 
 ftbles\ unto which my heart doth loan. And this 
 dear freedom hath begotten me this peace, that I 
 mourn not for that end which must be, nor spend 
 one wish to have one minute added to the uncertain 
 date of my years. It was no mean apprehension 
 of Lucian. who says of Monippus, that in his travels 
 through hell, he know not the kings of the earth 
 from other men but only by their louder cryings 
 and tears, which were fostered in them through the 
 remorseful memory of tho good days they had seen, 
 and the fruitful havings whicli they so unwillingly 
 loft behind them. He that was well seated, looked 
 back at his portion, and was loath to forsake his 
 farm ; and others, either minding marriages, pleasures, 
 profit, or proferment, desired to be excused from 
 deaths banquet. They had made an appointment 
 with earth, looking at the blessings, not the hand 
 that enlarged them, forgetting how unclothodly they 
 
ON DEATH, 309 
 
 carrie hither, or with what naked omarrifrnt^ they 
 were arrayed. 
 
 o. But were we H^;rv'antH of the preoept given, 
 and o^.^»er\'c^■i of the heathen.^ nile, Mcjo/'Mo ffif/n,^ 
 and not hecf)me beni^^hted with this seeming felic- 
 ity, we should enjoy it as men prepared to lo«e, 
 and not wind up our thoughts ujXiU so jxrriiihing a 
 fortune. He that i.s not slackly strong ^ai< the 
 fiervantri of pleai*ure^, how can he be found unready 
 to quit the vail and false \Tsage of his perfection? 
 Tlie soul having shaken off her flesh, doth then set 
 up for herself, and contemning things that are 
 under, shows what finger hath enforced her: for the 
 souls of idiots are of the same piece with thf/se of 
 statesmen, but now and then nature is at a fault, 
 and this good guest of ours takes soil in an imper- 
 fect brxly, and so is slackened from showing her 
 wonders, like an excellent musician, which cannot 
 utter himself upon a defective instrument. 
 
 6. But see how I am s^ver\'ed, and lose my 
 course, touching at the soul that doth least hold 
 action with death, who hath the surest property in 
 this frail act ; his style is the end of all flesh, and 
 the beginning of incorruption. 
 
 This ruler of monuments leads men, for the most 
 part, out of this world with their heels forward, in 
 token that he is contrary to life, which being ob- 
 tained, sends men headlong into this wretched thea- 
 tre, where, being arrive<l, their first language is that 
 of mourning. Xor, in my own thoughts, can I com- 
 
310 ESSAYS. 
 
 pare men more fitly to any thing than to the Indian 
 fig-tree, which, being ripened to his full height, is 
 said to decline his branches down to the earth, 
 whereof she conceives again, and they become roots 
 in their own stock. 
 
 So man, having derived his being from the earth, 
 first lives the life of a tree, drawing his nourish- 
 ment as a plant, and made ripe for death, he tends 
 downwards, and is sown again in his mother the 
 earth, where he perisheth not, but expects a quick- 
 ening. 
 
 7. So we see death exempts not a man from be- 
 ing, but only presents an alteration ; yet there are 
 some men (I think) that stand otherwise persuaded. 
 Death finds not a worse friend than an alderman, 
 to whose door I never knew him welcome ; but he 
 is an importunate guest, and will not be said nay. 
 
 And though they themselves shall afiirm that 
 they are not within, yet the answer will not be 
 taken ; and that which heightens their fear is, that 
 they know they are in danger to forfeit their flesh, 
 but are not wise of the payment-day, which sickly 
 uncertainty is the occasion that (for the most part) 
 they step out of this world unfurnished for their 
 general account, and, being all unprovided, desire 
 yet to hold their gravity, preparing their souls to 
 answer in scarlet. 
 
 Thus I gather, that death is unagreeable to most 
 citizens, because they commonly die intestate; this 
 being a rule, that when their will is made, they 
 
ON DEATH. 311 
 
 think themselves nearer a grave than before. Now 
 they, out of the wisdom of thousands, think to scare 
 destiny, from which there is no appeal, by not mak- 
 ing a will, or to live longer by protestation of their 
 unwillingness to die. They are, for the most part, 
 well made in this world (accounting their treasure 
 by legions, as men do devils). Their fortune looks 
 towards them, and they are willing to anchor at it, 
 and desire (if it be possible) to put the evil day far 
 off from them, and to adjourn their ungrateful and 
 killing period. 
 
 No, these are not the men which have bespoken 
 death, or whose looks are assured to entertain a 
 thought of him. 
 
 8. Death arrives gracious only to such as sit in 
 darkness, or lie heavy burdened with grief and irons ; 
 to the poor Christian, that sits bound in the galley ; 
 to despairful widows, pensive prisoners, and deposed 
 kings ; to them whose fortune runs back, and whose 
 spirits mutiny : unto such, death is a redeemer, and 
 the grave a place for retiredness and rest. 
 
 These wait upon the shore of death, and waft unto 
 him to draw near, wishing above all others to see 
 his star, that they might be led to his place ; wooing 
 the remorseless sisters to wind down the watch of 
 their life, and to break them off before the hour. 
 
 9. But death is a doleful messenger to a usurer, 
 and fate untimely cuts their thread ; for it is never 
 mentioned by him, but when rumors of war and 
 civil tumults put him in mind thereof. 
 
312 ESSAYS. 
 
 And when many hands are armed, and the peace 
 of a city in disorder, and the foot of the common 
 soldiers sounds an alarm on his stairs, then perhaps 
 such a one (broken in thoughts of his moneys abroad, 
 and cursing the monuments of coin which are in 
 his house) can be content to think of death, and 
 (being hasty of perdition) will perhaps hang himself, 
 lest his throat should be cut ; provided that he may 
 do it in his study, surrounded with wealth, to which 
 his eye sends a faint and languishing salute, even 
 upon the turning off; remembering always, that he 
 have time and liberty, by writing, to depute himself 
 as his own heir. 
 
 For that is a great peace to his end, and recon- 
 ciles him wonderfully upon the point. 
 
 10. Herein we all dally with ourselves, and are 
 without proof of necessity. I am not of those, that 
 dare promise to pine away myself in vainglory, and 
 I hold such to be but feat boldness, and them that 
 dare commit it, to be vain. Yet, for my part, I 
 think nature should do me great wrong, if I should 
 be so long in dying, as I was in being born. 
 
 To speak truth, no man knows the lists of his 
 own patience, nor can divine how able he shall be 
 in his sufferings, till the storm come (the perfectest 
 virtue being tried in action); but I would (out of a 
 care to do the best business well) ever keep a guard, 
 and stand upon keeping faith and a good conscience. 
 
 11. And if wishes might find place, I would die 
 together, and not my mind often, and my body once ; 
 
ON DEATH. 313 
 
 that is, I would prepare for the messengers of death, 
 sickness, and affliction, and not wait long, or be 
 attempted by the violence of pain. 
 
 Herein I do not profess myself a Stoic, to hold 
 grief no evil, but opinion, and a thing indifferent. 
 
 But I consent with Csesar, that the suddenest 
 passage is easiest, and there is nothing more awak- 
 ens our resolve and readiness to die than the qui- 
 eted conscience, strengthened with opinion that w^e 
 shall be w^ell spoken of upon earth by those that 
 are just, and of the family of virtue ; the opposite 
 whereof is a fury to man, and makes even life 
 unsweet. 
 
 Therefore, what is more heavy than evil fame 
 deserved? Or, likewise, who can see worse days, 
 than he that, yet living, doth follow at the funerals 
 of his own reputation? 
 
 I have laid up many hopes, that I am privileged 
 from that kind of mourning, and could wish the like 
 peace to all those with whom I wage love. 
 
 12. I might say much of the commodities that 
 death can sell a man ; but, briefly, death is a friend 
 of ours, and he that is not ready to entertain him, 
 is not at home. Whilst I am, my ambition is not 
 to foreflow the tide ; I have but so to make my 
 interest of it as I may account for it ; I w^ould wish 
 nothing but what might better my days, nor desire 
 any greater place than the front of good opinion. 
 I make not love to the continuance of days, but to 
 the goodness of them; nor wish to die, but refer 
 
314 ESSAYS. 
 
 myself to my hour, which the great Dispenser of all 
 things hath appointed me; yet, as I am frail, and 
 suffered for the first fault, were it given me to 
 choose, I should not be earnest to see the evening 
 of my age ; that extremity, of itself, being a dis- 
 ease, and a mere return into infancy ; so that, if 
 perpetuity of life might be given me, I should think 
 what the Greek poet said ; " Such an age is a mor- 
 tal evil." And since I must needs be dead, I require 
 it may not be done before mine enemies, that I be not 
 stript before I be cold ; but before my friends. The 
 night is even now : but that name is lost ; it is not 
 now late, but early. Mine eyes begin to discharge 
 their watch, and compound with this fleshly weak- 
 ness for a time of perpetual rest ; and I shall pres- 
 ently be as happy for a few hours, as I had died 
 the first hour I was born. 
 
THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 The earliest antiquity lies buried in silence and ob- 
 livion, excepting the remains we have of it in sacred 
 writ. This silence was succeeded by poetical fables, 
 and these, at length, by the writings we now enjoy ; so 
 that the concealed and secret learning of the ancients 
 seems separated from the history and knowledge of 
 the following ages by a veil, or partition-wall of fables, 
 interposing between the things that are lost and those 
 that remain.^ 
 
 Many may imagine that I am here entering upon a 
 work of fancy, or amusement, and design to use a poet- 
 ical liberty, in explaining poetical fables. It is true, 
 fables, in general, are composed of ductile matter, that 
 may be drawn into great variety by a witty talent or an 
 inventive genius, and be delivered of plausible meanings 
 
 1 Varro distributes the ages of the world into three periods; 
 viz : the unknown, the fabulous, and the historical. Of the former, 
 we have no accounts hut in Scripture ; for the second, we must 
 consult the ancient poets, such as Hesiod, Homer, or those who 
 wrote still earlier, and then again come back to 0\T.d, who, in his 
 Metamorphoses, seems, in imitation perhaps of some ancient Greek 
 poet, to have intended a complete collection, or a kind of continued 
 and connected history of the fabulous age, especially with regard 
 to changes, revolutions, or transformations. 
 
318 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 which they never contamed. But this procedure has 
 already been carried to excess ; and great numbers, to 
 procure the sanction of antiquity to their own notions 
 and inventions, have miserably wrested and abused 
 the fables of the ancients. 
 
 Nor is this only a late or unfrequent practice, but of 
 ancient date and common even to this da}'. Thus 
 Chrj-sippus, like an interpreter of dreams, attributed 
 the opinions of the Stoics to the poets of old ; and the 
 chemists, at present, more childishly apply the poetical 
 transformations to their experiments of the furnace. 
 And though I have well weighed and considered all 
 this, and thoroughly seen into the levit}^ which the mind 
 indulges for allegories and allusions, yet I cannot but 
 retain a high value for the ancient mytholog3\ And, 
 certainly, it were yery injudicious to suffer the fondness 
 and licentiousness of a few to detract from the honor 
 of allegor}^ and parable in general. This would be 
 rash, and almost profane ; for, since religion delights in 
 such shadows and disguises, to abolish them were, in 
 a manner, to prohibit all intercourse betwixt things 
 divine and human. 
 
 Upon deliberate consideration, my judgment is, that 
 a concealed instruction and allegory was originally in- 
 tended in many of the ancient fables. This opinion 
 may, in some respect, be owing to the veneration I 
 have for antiquity, but more to observing that some 
 fables discover a great and evident similitude, relation, 
 and connection with the thing they signifj', as well in 
 the structure of the fable as in the propriety of the 
 names whereby the persons or actors are characterized ; 
 insomuch, that no one could positively deny a sense 
 
PEEFACE. 319 
 
 and meaning to be from the first intended, and pur- 
 posely shadowed out in them. For who can hear that 
 Fame, after the giants were destro3'ed, sprung up as 
 their posthumous sister, and not apply it to the clamor 
 of parties and the seditious rumors which commonly 
 Qy about for a time upon the quelling of insurrections ? 
 Or who can read how the giant T3^phon cut out and 
 carried away Jupiter's sinews — which Mercury after- 
 wards stole, and again restored to Jupiter — and not 
 presently observe that this allegory denotes strong and 
 powerful rebellions, which cut away from kings their 
 sinews, both of money and authority ; and that the way 
 to have them restored is by lenit}', affabilit}', and pru- 
 dent edicts, which soon reconcile, and, as it were, steal 
 upon the affections of the subject? Or who, upon 
 hearing that memorable expedition of the gods against 
 the giants, when the bra3'ing of Silenus's ass greatly 
 contributed in putting the giants to flight, does not 
 clearly conceive that this directly points at the mon- 
 strous enterprises of rebeUious subjects, which are fre- 
 quently frustrated and disappointed by vain fears and 
 empt}' rumors? 
 
 Again, the conformity and purport of the names is 
 frequentty manifest and self-evident. Thus Metis, the 
 wife of Jupiter, plainly signifies counsel ; Tj'phon, 
 swelling ; Pan, universalitj' ; Nemesis, revenge, &c. Nor 
 is it a wonder, if sometimes a piece of histor}^ or other 
 things are introduced, b\' way of ornament ; or, if the 
 times of the action are confounded ; or, if part of one 
 fable be tacked to another ; or, if the allegory be new 
 turned ; for all this must necessarilj^ happen, as the 
 fables were the inventions of men who lived in different 
 
320 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 ages, and had different views ; some of them being 
 ancient, others more modern ; some having an eye to 
 natural philosoph}', and others to moraUty or civil 
 policy. 
 
 It may pass for a further indication of a concealed 
 and secret meaning, that some of these fables are so 
 absurd and idle in their narration, as to show and pro- 
 claim an allegory, even afar off. A fable that carries 
 probability with it may be supposed invented for pleas- 
 ure, or in imitation of history ; but those that could 
 never be conceived or related in this way must surely 
 have a different use. For example, what a monstrous 
 fiction is this, that Jupiter should take Metis to wife, 
 and as soon as he found her pregnant eat her up, 
 whereb}^ he also conceived, and out of his head brought 
 forth Pallas armed. Certainly no mortal could, but 
 for the sake of the moral it couches, invent such an 
 absurd dream as this, so much out of the road of 
 thought ! 
 
 But the argument of most w^cight with me is this, 
 that man}- of these fables by no means appear to have 
 been invented by the persons who relate and divulge 
 them, whether Homer, Hesiod, or others ; for if I were 
 assured the}- first flowed from those later times and 
 authors that transmit them to us, I should never ex- 
 pect any thing singularly great or noble from such an 
 origin. But whoever attentivel}^ considers the thing, 
 will find that these fables are delivered down and 
 related by those writers, not as matters then first 
 invented and proposed, but as things received and em- 
 braced in earlier ages. Besides, as they are differently 
 related bj' writers nearly- of the same ages, it is easily 
 
PKEFACE. 321 
 
 perceived that the relators drew from the common 
 stock of ancient tradition, and varied but in point of 
 embellishment, which is their own. And this princi- 
 pall}^ raises m}' esteem of these fables, w^hich I receive, 
 not as the product of the age, or invention of the poets, 
 but as sacred relics, gentle whispers, and the breath of 
 better times, that from the traditions of more ancient 
 nations came, at length, into the flutes and trumpets 
 of the Greeks. But if any one shall, notwithstanding 
 this, contend that allegories are always adventitious, or 
 imposed upon the ancient fables, and no wa}" native or 
 genuinely contained in them, we might here leave him 
 undisturbed in that gravity of judgment he affects 
 (though we cannot help accounting it somewhat dull 
 and phlegmatic), and, if it were worth the trouble, 
 proceed to another kind of argument. 
 
 Men have proposed to answer two different and con- 
 trary ends by the use of parable ; for parables serve as 
 well to instruct or illustrate as to wrap up and envelop ; 
 so that though, for the present, we drop the concealed 
 use, and suppose the ancient fables to be vague, unde- 
 terminate things, formed for amusement, still, the other 
 use must remain, and can never be given up. And 
 every man, of any learning, must readih^ allow that 
 this method of instructing is grave, sober, or exceed- 
 ingly useful, and sometimes necessarj' in the sciences, 
 as it opens an easy and familiar passage to the human 
 understanding, in all new discoveries that are abstruse 
 and out of the road of vulgar ophiions. Hence, in the 
 first ages, when such inventions and conclusions of the 
 human reason as are now trite and common w^ere new 
 and little known, all things abounded with fables, para- 
 21 
 
322 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 bles, similes, comparisons, and allusions, which were 
 not intended to conceal, but to inform and teach, whilst 
 the minds of men continued rude and unpractised in 
 matters of subtilt}' and speculation, or even impatient, 
 and in a manner incapable of receiving such things as 
 did not fall directly under and strike the senses. For 
 as hierogl3'phics were in use before writing, so were 
 parables in use before arguments. And even to this 
 day, if any man would let new light in upon the human 
 understanding, and conquer prejudice, without raising 
 contests, animosities, opposition, or disturbance, he 
 must still go in the same path, and have recourse to 
 the like method of allegor}-, metaphor, and allusion. 
 
 To conclude, the knowledge of the early ages was 
 either great or happy ; great, if thej^ b}^ design made 
 this use of trope and figure ; happy, if, whilst they had 
 other views, the}' afforded matter and occasion to such 
 noble contemplations. Let either be the case, our 
 pains, perhaps, will not be misemployed, whether we 
 Illustrate antiquity or things themselves. 
 
 The like, indeed, has been attempted by others ; but, 
 to speak ingenuously, their great and voluminous labors 
 have almost destro3'ed the energy", the efficacy, and 
 grace of the thing ; whilst, being unskilled in nature, 
 and their learning no more than that of commonplace, 
 they have applied the sense of the parables to certain 
 general and vulgar matters, without reaching to their 
 real purport, genuine interpretation, and full depth. 
 For myself, therefore, I expect to appear new in these 
 common things, because, leaving untouched such as 
 are sufficient^ plain and open, I shall drive only at 
 those that are either deep or rich. 
 
THE WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 A SERIES OF MYTHOLOGICAL FABLES.^ 
 
 I. — CASSANDRA, OR DIVINATION. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF TOO FREE AND UNSEASONABLE ADVICE. 
 
 The poets relate, that Apollo, falling in love 
 with Cassandra, was still deluded and put off by 
 her, yet fed with hopes, till she had got from him 
 the gift of prophesy; and, having now obtained 
 her end, she flatly rejected his suit. Apollo, unable 
 to recall his rash gift, yet enraged to be outwitted 
 by a girl, annexed this penalty to it, that though 
 she should always prophesy true, she should never 
 be believed ; whence her divinations were always 
 slighted, even when she again and again predicted 
 the ruin of her country. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable seems invented to 
 express the insignificance of unseasonable advice. 
 For they who are conceited, stubborn, or intracta- 
 ble, and listen not to the instructions of Apollo, the 
 god of harmony, so as to learn and observe the 
 
 1 Most of these fables are contained in Ovid's Metamorphoses 
 and Fasti, and are fully explained in Bohn's Classical Library 
 translation. 
 
324 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 modulatioDS and measures of affairs, the sharps and 
 flats of discourse, the diiference between judicious 
 and vulgar ears, and the proper times of speech 
 and silence, let them be ever so intelligent, and ever 
 so frank of their advice, or their counsels ever so 
 good and just, yet all their endeavors, either of 
 persuasion or force, are of little significance, and 
 rather hasten the ruin of those they advise. But, 
 at last, when the calamitous event has made the 
 sufferers feel the effect of their neglect, they too 
 late reverence their advisers, as deep, foreseeing, 
 and faithful prophets. 
 
 Of this, we have a remarkable instance in Cato 
 of Utica, who discovered afar off, and long foretold, 
 the approaching ruin of his country, both in the 
 first conspiracy, and as it was prosecuted in the civil 
 war between Caesar and Pompey, yet did no good 
 the while, but rather hurt the commonwealth, and 
 hurried on its destruction, which Cicero wisely ob- 
 served in these words : ^^ Cato, indeed, judges excel- 
 lently, but prejudices the state ; for he speaks as in 
 the commonwealth of Plato, and not as in the dregs 
 of Romulus." 
 
 IL — TYPHON, OR A REBEL. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF REBELLION. 
 
 The fable runs, that Juno, enraged at Jupiter's 
 bringing forth Pallas without her assistance, inces- 
 santly solicited all the gods and goddesses, thai she 
 
TYPHON, OR A REBEL. 325 
 
 might produce without Jupiter ; and having by vio- 
 lence and importunity obtained the grant, she struck 
 the earth, and thence immediately sprung up Ty- 
 phon, a huge and dreadful monster, whom she com- 
 mitted to the nursing of a serpent. As soon as he 
 was grown up, this monster waged war on Jupiter, 
 and taking him prisoner, in the battle, carried him 
 away on his shoulders, into a remote and obscure 
 quarter; and there cutting out the sinews of his 
 hands and feet, he bore them off, leaving Jupiter 
 behind miserably maimed and mangled. 
 
 But Mercury afterwards stole these sinews from 
 Typhon, and restored them to Jupiter. Hence, re- 
 covering his strength, Jupiter again pursues the 
 monster; first wounds him with a stroke of his 
 thunder, when serpents arose from the blood of 
 the wound; and now the monster being dismayed, 
 and taking to flight, Jupiter next darted Mount 
 iEtna upon him, and crushed him with the weight. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable seems designed to 
 express the various fates of kings, and the turns 
 that rebellions sometimes take, in kingdoms. For 
 princes may be justly esteemed married to their 
 states, as Jupiter to Juno; but it sometimes hap- 
 pens, that, being depraved by long wielding of the 
 sceptre, and growing tyrannical, they would engross 
 all to themselves, and, slighting the counsel of their 
 senators and nobles, conceive by themselves ; that 
 is, govern according to their own arbitrary will and 
 
326 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 pleasure. This inflames the people, and makes them 
 endeavor to create and set up some head of their 
 own. Such designs are generally set on foot by the 
 secret motion and instigation of the peers and nobles, 
 under whose connivance the common sort are pre- 
 pared for rising; whence proceeds a swell in the 
 state, which is appositely denoted by the nursing 
 of Typhon. This growing posture of affairs is fed 
 by the natural depravity and malignant dispositions 
 of the vulgar, which to kings is an envenomed 
 serpent. And now the disaffected, uniting their 
 force, at length break out into open rebellion, which, 
 producing infinite mischiefs, both to prince and 
 people, is represented by the horrid and multiplied 
 deformity of Typhon, with his hundred heads, de- 
 noting the divided powers; his flaming mouths, 
 denoting fire and devastation; his girdles of snakes, 
 denoting sieges and destruction; his iron hands, 
 slaughter and cruelty; his eagle's talons, rapine 
 and plunder; his plumed body, perpetual rumors, 
 contradictory accounts, &c. And sometimes these 
 rebellions grow so high, that kings are obliged, as 
 if carried on the backs of the rebels, to quit the 
 throne, and retire to some remote and obscure part 
 of their dominions, with the loss of their sinews, 
 both of money and majesty. 
 
 But if now they prudently bear this reverse of 
 fortune, they may, in a short time, by the assistance 
 of Mercury, recover their sinews again ; that is, 
 by becoming moderate and affable; reconciling the 
 
THE CYCLOPS, OR MINISTERS OF TERROR. 327 
 
 minds and affections of the people to them, by gra- 
 cious speeches and prudent proclamations, which 
 will win over the subject cheerfully to aflbrd new 
 aids and supplies, and add fresh vigor to authority. 
 But prudent and wary princes here seldom incline to 
 try fortune by a war, yet do their utmost, by some 
 grand exploit, to crush the reputation of the rebels ; 
 and if the attempt succeeds, the rebels, conscious 
 of the wound received, and distrustful of their cause, 
 first betake themselves to broken and empty threats, 
 like the hissings of serpents ; and next, when matters 
 are grown desperate, to flight. And now, when 
 they thus begin to shrink, it is safe and seasonable 
 for kings to pursue them with their forces, and the 
 whole strength of the kingdom; thus effectually 
 quashing and suppressing them, as it were by the 
 weight of a mountain. 
 
 III.— THE CYCLOPS, OR THE MINISTERS 
 OF TERROR. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF BASE COURT OFFICERS. 
 
 It is related that the Cyclops, for their savage- 
 ness and cruelty, were by Jupiter first thrown into 
 Tartarus, and there condemned to perpetual impris- 
 onment; but that afterwards Tellus persuaded Ju- 
 piter it would be for his service to release them, 
 and employ them in forging thunderbolts. This 
 
328 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 he accordingly did ; and they, with unwearied pains 
 and diligence, hammered out his bolts, and other 
 instruments of terror, with a frightful and continual 
 din of the anvil. 
 
 It happened, long after, that Jupiter was dis- 
 pleased with ^sculapius, the son of Apollo, for 
 having, by the art of medicine, restored a dead man 
 to life; but concealing his indignation, because the 
 action in itself was pious and illustrious, he secretly 
 incensed the Cyclops against him, who, without 
 remorse, presently slew him with their thunderbolts : 
 in revenge whereof, Apollo, with Jupiter's conni- 
 vance, shot them all dead with his arrows. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable seems to point at 
 the behavior of princes, who, having cruel, bloody, 
 and oppressive ministers, first punish and displace 
 them ; but afterwards, by the advice of Tellus, that 
 is, some earthly-minded and ignoble person, employ 
 them again, to serve a turn, when there is occasion 
 for cruelty in execution, or severity in exaction ; 
 but these ministers being base in their nature, whet 
 by their former disgrace, and well aware of what is 
 expected from them, use double diligence in their 
 office ; till, proceeding unwarily, and over-eager to 
 gain favor, they sometimes, from the private nods, 
 and ambiguous orders of their prince, perform some 
 odious or execrable action : when princes, to decline 
 the envy themselves, and knowing they shall never 
 want such tools at their back, drop them, and give 
 
NARCISSUS, OR SELF-LOVE. 329 
 
 them up to the friends and followers of the injured 
 person ; thus exposing them, as sacrifices to revenge 
 and popular odium : whence, with great applause, 
 acclamations, and good wishes to the prince, these 
 miscreants at last meet with their desert. 
 
 lY. — NARCISSUS, OR SELF-LOVE. 
 
 Narcissus is said to have been extremely beautiful 
 and comely, but intolerably proud and disdainful ; so 
 that, pleased with himself, and scorning the world, 
 he led a solitary life in the woods ; hunting only 
 with a few followers, who were his professed admirers, 
 amongst whom the nymph Echo was his constant at- 
 tendant. In this method of life, it was once his fate 
 to approach a clear fountain, where he laid himself 
 down to rest, in the noonday heat ; when, beholding 
 his image in the water, he fell into such a rapture and 
 admiration of himself, that he could by no means be 
 got away, but remained continually fixed and gazing, 
 till at length he was turned into a flower, of his own 
 name, which appears early in the spring, and is con- 
 secrated to the infernal deities, Pluto, Proserpine, and 
 the Furies. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable seems to paint the be- 
 havior and fortune of those, who, for their beauty, or 
 other endowments, wherewith nature (without any 
 
330 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 industry of their own) has graced and adorned them, 
 are extravagantly fond of themselves : for men of such 
 a disposition generally affect retirement, and absence 
 from public affairs ; as a life of business must neces- 
 sarily subject them to many neglects and contempts, 
 which mio^ht disturb and ruffle their minds : whence 
 such persons commonly lead a solitary, private, and 
 shadowy life : see little company, and those only such 
 as highly admire and reverence them ; or, like an 
 echo, assent to all they say. 
 
 And they who are depraved, and rendered still 
 fonder of themselves by this custom, grow strangely 
 indolent, inactive, and perfectly stupid. The Narcis- 
 sus, a spring flower, is an elegant emblem of this 
 temper, which at first flourishes, and is talked of, 
 but, when ripe, frustrates the expectation conceived 
 of it. 
 
 And that this flower should be sacred to the infer- 
 nal powers, carries out the allusion still further ; be- 
 cause men of this humor are perfectly useless in all 
 respects : for whatever yields no fruit, but passes, and 
 is no more, like the way of a ship in the sea, was by 
 the ancients consecrated to the infernal shades and 
 powers. 
 
THE KIVER STYX, OR LEAGUES. 331 
 
 v. — THE RIYER STYX, OR LEAGUES. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF NECESSITY, IN THE OATHS OR SOLEMN 
 LEAGUES OF PRINCES. 
 
 The only solemn oath, by wliich the gods irrevoca- 
 bly obliged themselves, is a well known thing, and 
 makes a part of many ancient fables. To this oath 
 they did not invoke any celestial divinity, or divine 
 attribute^ but only called to witness the River Styx, 
 which, with many meanders, surrounds the infernal 
 court of Dis. For this form alone, and none but this, 
 was held inviolable and obligatory ; and the punish- 
 ment of falsifying it, was that dreaded one of being 
 excluded, for a certain number of years, the table of 
 the gods. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable seems invented to show 
 the nature of the compacts and confederacies of prin- 
 ces ; which, tliough ever so solemnly and religiously 
 sworn to, prove but little the more binding for it : 
 so that oaths, in this case, seem used rather for de- 
 corum, reputation, and ceremony, than for fidelity, 
 security, and effectuating. And though these oaths 
 were strengthened with the bonds of affinity, which 
 are the links and ties of nature, and again, by mutual 
 services and good offices, yet we see all this will gen- 
 erally give way to ambition, convenience, and the 
 thirst of power : the rather, because it is easy for 
 princes, under various specious pretences, to defend, 
 
332 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 disofuise, and conceal their ambitious desires and in- 
 sincerity, having no judge to call them to account. 
 There is, however, one true and proper confirmation 
 of their faith, though no celestial divinity, but that 
 great divinity of princes, Necessity ; or, the danger 
 of the state ; and the securing of advantage. 
 
 This necessity is elegantly represented by Styx, the 
 fatal river that can never be crossed back. And tliis 
 deity it v^^as, which Iphicrates the Athenian invoked 
 in making a league ; and because he roundly and 
 openly avows what most others studiously conceal, it 
 may be proper to give his own words. Observing 
 that the Lacedaemonians were inventing and propos- 
 ing a variety of securities, sanctions, and bonds of 
 alliance, he interrupted them thus : " There may, in- 
 deed, my friends, be one bond and means of security 
 between us ; and that is, for you to demonstrate you 
 have delivered into our hands, such things as that, if 
 you had the greatest desire to hurt us, you could not 
 be able." Therefore, if the power of offending be 
 taken away, or if, by a breach of compact, there be 
 danger of destruction or diminution to the state or trib- 
 ute, then it is that covenants will be ratified, and 
 confirmed, as it were by the Stygian oath, whilst 
 there remains an impending danger of being prohib- 
 ited and excluded the banquet of the gods ; by which 
 expression the ancients denoted the rights and pre- 
 rogatives, the affluence and the felicities, of empire 
 and dominion. 
 
PAN, OR NATUEE. 333 
 
 VL — PAN, OR NATURE. 1 
 
 EXPLAINED OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The ancients have, with great exactness, delineated 
 universal nature under the person of Pan. They 
 leave his origin doubtful ; some asserting him the son 
 of Mercury, and others the common offspring of all 
 Penelope's suitors. The latter supposition doubtless 
 occasioned some later rivals to entitle this ancient 
 fable Penelope ; a thing frequently practised when 
 the earlier relations are applied to more modern 
 characters and persons, though sometimes with great 
 absurdity and ignorance, as in the present case ; for 
 Pan was one of the ancientest gods, and long before 
 the time of Ulysses ; besides, Penelope was venerated 
 by antiquity for her matronal chastity. A third sort 
 will have him the issue of Jupiter and Hybris, that is, 
 Reproach. But whatever his origin was, the Desti- 
 nies are allowed his sisters. 
 
 He is described by antiquity, with pyramidal horns 
 reaching up to heaven, a rough and shaggy body, a 
 very long beard, of a biform figure, human above, half 
 brute below, ending in goat's feet. His arms, or en- 
 signs of power, are, a pipe in his left hand, composed 
 of seven reeds ; in his right a crook ; and he wore for 
 his mantle a leopard's skin. 
 
 His attributes and titles were the god of hunters, 
 
 1 Homer's Hymn to Pau. 
 
334 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 shepherds, and all the rural inhabitants ; president 
 of the mountains ; and, after Mercury, the next mes- 
 senger of the gods. He was also held the leader and 
 ruler of the Nymphs, who continually danced and 
 frisked about him, attended with the Satyrs and their 
 elders, the Sileni. He had also the power of striking 
 terrors, especially such as were vain and superstitious ; 
 whence they came to be called panic terrors. ^ 
 
 Few actions are recorded of him ; only a principal 
 one is, that he challenged Cupid at wrestling, and 
 was worsted. He also catched the giant Typhon 
 in a net, and held him fast. They relate further of 
 him, that when Ceres, grooving disconsolate for the 
 rape of Proserpine, hid herself, and all the gods 
 took the utmost pains to find her, by going out dif- 
 ferent ways for that purpose, Pan only had the good 
 fortune to meet her, as he was hunting, and discov- 
 ered her to the rest. He likewise had the assurance 
 to rival Apollo in music, and in the judgment of 
 Midas was preferred; but the judge had, though 
 with great privacy and secrecy, a pair of ass's ears 
 fastened on him for his sentence.^ 
 
 There is very little said of his amours ; which 
 may seem strange among such a multitude of gods, 
 so profusely amorous. He is only reported to have 
 been very fond of Echo, who was also esteemed 
 his wife ; and one nymph more, called Syrinx, with 
 the love of whom Cupid inflamed him for his in- 
 solent challenge ; so he is reported once to have 
 
 1 Cicero, Epistle to Atticus, 6. 2 Ovid, Metamorphoses, b. ii. 
 
PAN, OR NATURE. 335 
 
 solicited the moon to accompany him apart into the 
 deep woods. 
 
 Lastly, Pan had no descendant, which also is a 
 wonder, when the male gods were so extremely 
 prolific ; only he was the reputed father of a servant- 
 girl called lambe, who used to divert strangers with 
 her ridiculous prattling stories. 
 
 This fable is perhaps the noblest of all antiquity, 
 and pregnant with the mysteries and secrets ot 
 nature. Pan, as the name imports, represents the 
 universe, about whose origin there are two opinions, 
 viz : that it either sprung from Mercury, that is, 
 the divine word, according to the Scriptures and 
 philosophical divines, or from the confused seeds 
 of things. For they who allow only one beginning 
 of all things, either ascribe it to God, or, if they 
 suppose a material beginning, acknowledge it to be 
 various in its powers ; so that the whole dispute 
 comes to these points, viz : either that nature pro- 
 ceeds from Mercury, or from Penelope and all her 
 suitors." ^ 
 
 The third origin of Pan seems borrowed by the 
 Greeks from the Hebrew mysteries, either by means 
 of the Egyptians, or otherwise ; for it relates to the 
 
 1 This refers to the confused mixture of things, as sung by 
 Virgil : — 
 
 " Namque canebat uti magnum per inane coacta 
 Semina terrarumque animreque marisque fuissent ; 
 Et liquidi simul ignis ; ut his exordia primis 
 Omnia, et ipse tener mundi concreverit orbis." — 
 
 Ed. vi. 81. 
 
336 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 state of the world, not in its first creation, but as 
 made subject to death and corruption after the fall ; 
 and in this state it was and remains, the offspring 
 of God and Sin, or Jupiter and Reproach. And 
 therefore these three several accounts of Pan's birth 
 may seem true, if duly distinguished in respect of 
 things and times. For this Pan, or the universal 
 nature of things, which we \dew and contemplate, 
 had its origin from the divine word and confused 
 matter, first created by God himself, with the 
 subsequent introduction of sin, and, consequently, 
 corruption. 
 
 The Destinies, or the natures and fates of things, 
 are justly made Pan's sisters, as the chain of natu- 
 ral causes links together the rise, duration, and cor- 
 ruption ; the exaltation, degeneration, and workings ; 
 the processes, the effects, and changes, of all that 
 can any way happen to things. 
 
 Horns are given him, broad at the roots, but 
 narrow and sharp at the top, because the nature of 
 all things seems pyramidal ; for individuals are infi- 
 nite, but being collected into a variety of species, 
 they rise up into kinds, and these again ascend, and 
 are contracted into generals, till at length nature 
 may seem collected to a point. And no wonder if 
 Pan's horns reach to the heavens, since the sublim- 
 ities of nature, or abstract ideas, reach in a manner 
 to things divine ; for there is a short and ready 
 passage from metaphysics to natural theology. 
 
 Pan's body, or the body of nature, is, with great 
 
PAN, OR NATURE. 337 
 
 propriety and elegance, painted shaggy and hairy, 
 as representing the rays of things; for rays are as 
 the hair or fleece of nature, and more or less worn 
 by all bodies. This evidently appears in vision, 
 and in all effects and operations at a distance ; for 
 whatever operates thus, may be properly said to 
 emit rays.^ But particularly the beard of Pan is 
 exceeding long, because the rays of the celestial 
 bodies penetrate, and act to a prodigious distance, 
 and have descended into the interior of the earth, 
 so far as to change its surface ; and the sun himself, 
 when clouded on its upper part, appears to the eye 
 bearded. 
 
 Again, the body of nature is justly described 
 biform, because of the difference between its supe- 
 rior and inferior parts, as the former, for their 
 beauty, regularity of motion, and influence over the 
 earth, may be properly represented by the human 
 figure, and the latter, because of their disorder, ir- 
 regularity, and subjection to the celestial bodies, are 
 by the brutal. This biform figure also represents the 
 participation of one species with another ; for there 
 appear to be no simple natures, but all participate 
 or consist of two : thus, man has somewhat of the 
 brute, the brute somewhat of the plant, the plant 
 somewhat of the mineral ; so that all natural bodies 
 
 1 This is always supposed to be the case in vision, the mathe- 
 matical demonstrations in optics proceeding invariably upon the 
 assumption of this phenomenon. 
 
338 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 have really two faces, or consist of a superior and 
 an inferior species. 
 
 There lies a curious allegory in the making of 
 Pan goat-footed, on account of the motion of ascent 
 which the terrestrial bodies have towards the air 
 and heavens ; for the goat is a clambering creature, 
 that delights in climbing up rocks and precipices; 
 and in the same manner the matters destined to this 
 lower globe strongly affect to rise upwards, as ap- 
 pears from the clouds and meteors. 
 
 Pan's arms, or the ensigns he bears in his hands, 
 are of two kinds — the one an emblem of harmony, 
 the other of empire. His pipe, composed of seven 
 reeds, plainly denotes the consent and harmony, or 
 the concords and discords of things, produced by 
 the motion of the seven planets. His crook, also, 
 contains a fine representation of the ways of nature, 
 which are partly straight and partly crooked ; thus 
 the staiF, having an extraordinary bend towards the 
 top, denotes that the works of Divine Providence 
 are generally brought about by remote means, or in 
 a circuit, as if somewhat else were intended rather 
 than the effect produced, as in the sending of Joseph 
 into Egypt, &c. So likewise in human goverment, 
 they who sit at the helm, manage and wind the 
 people more successfully by pretext and oblique 
 courses, than they could by such as are direct and 
 straight ; so that, in effect, all sceptres are crooked 
 at the top. 
 
 Pan's mantle, or clothing, is with great ingenuity 
 
PAN, OR NATURE. 339 
 
 made of a leopard's skin, because of the spots it has ; 
 for in like manner the heavens are sprinkled with 
 stars, the sea with islands, the earth with flowers, 
 and almost each particular thing is variegated, or 
 wears a mottled coat. 
 
 The office of Pan could not be more livelily ex- 
 pressed than by making him the god of hunters ; for 
 every natural action, every motion and process, is no 
 other than a chase. Thus arts and sciences hunt out 
 their works, and human schemes and counsels their 
 several ends ; and all living creatures either hunt out 
 their aliment, pursue their prey, or seek their pleas- 
 ures, and this in a skilful and sagacious manner.^ 
 He is also styled the god of the rural inhabitants, be- 
 cause men in this situation live more according to 
 nature than they do in cities and courts, where nature 
 is so corrupted with effeminate arts, that the saying 
 of the poet may be verified : — 
 
 — pars minima est ipsa puella sui.^ 
 
 He is likewise particularly styled President of the 
 Mountains, because in mountains and lofty places 
 the nature of things lies more open and exposed to 
 the eye and the understanding. 
 
 In his being called the messenger of the gods, next 
 after Mercury, lies a divine allegory, as next after the 
 Word of God, the image of the world is the herald of 
 
 1 ** Torva lerena Inpura sequitur, lupus ipse capellam : 
 
 Florentem cytisura sequitur lasciva capella." 
 
 Firgil, Eel. ii. 63. 
 
 2 Ovid, Rem. Amoris, v. 343. Mart. Epist. 
 
340 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 the Divine power and wisdom, according to the ex- 
 pression of the Psalmist : " The heavens declare the 
 glory of God, and the firmament showeth his handi- 
 work." 1 
 
 Pan is delighted with the company of the Nymphs, 
 that is, the souls of all living creatures are the delight 
 of the world; and he is properly called their gov- 
 ernor, because each of them follows its own nature, 
 as a leader, and all dance about their own respective 
 rings, with infinite variety and never-ceasing motion. 
 And with these continually join the Satyrs and Sileni, 
 that is, youth and age ; for all things have a kind of 
 young, cheerful, and dancing time ; and again their 
 time of slowness, tottering, and creeping. And who- 
 ever, in a true light, considers the motions and en- 
 deavors of both these ages, like another Democritus, 
 will perhaps find them as odd and strange as the 
 gesticulations and antic motions of the Satyrs and 
 Sileni. 
 
 The power he had of striking terrors contains a 
 very sensible doctrine ; for nature has implanted fear 
 in all living creatures, as well to keep them from risk- 
 ing their lives, as to guard against injuries and vio- 
 lence ; and yet this nature or passion keeps not its 
 bounds, but with just and profitable fears always 
 mixes such as are vain and senseless ; so that all 
 things, if we could see their insides, would appear 
 full of panic terrors. Thus mankind, particularly the 
 vulgar, labor under a high degree of superstition, 
 
 1 Psalm xix. 1. 
 
PAN, OH NATURE. 341 
 
 which is nothing more than a panic-dread, that 
 principally reigns in unsettled and troublesome times. 
 
 The presumption of Pan in challenging Cupid to 
 the conflict denotes that matter has an appetite and 
 tendency to a dissolution of the world, and falling 
 back to its first chaos again, unless this depravity and 
 inclination were restrained and subdued by a more 
 powerful concord and agreement of things, properly 
 expressed by Love, or Cupid : it is therefore well for 
 mankind, and the state of all things, that Pan was 
 thrown and conquered in the struggle. 
 
 His catching and detaining Typhon in the net re- 
 ceives a similar explanation ; for whatever vast and 
 unusual swells, which the word typhon signifies, may 
 sometimes be raised in nature, as in the sea, the clouds, 
 the earth, or the like, yet nature catches, entangles, 
 and holds all such outrages and insurrections in her 
 inextricable net, wove, as it were, of adamant. 
 
 That part of the fable which attributes the discovery 
 of lost Ceres to Pan whilst he was hunting — a hap- 
 piness denied the other gods, though they diligently 
 and expressly sought her — contains an exceeding just 
 and prudent admonition ; viz : that we are not to ex- 
 pect the discovery of things useful in common life, as 
 that of corn, denoted by Ceres, from abstract philos- 
 ophies, as if these were the gods of the first order, — 
 no, not though we used our utmost endeavors this 
 way, — but only from Pan ; that is, a sagacious ex- 
 perience and general knowledge of nature, which is 
 often found, even by accident, to stumble upon such 
 
342 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 discoveries whilst the pursuit was directed another 
 way. 
 
 The event of his contending with Apollo in music 
 affords us a useful instruction, that may help to hum- 
 ble the human reason and judgment, which is too 
 apt to boast and glory in itself. There seem to be 
 two kinds of harmony, — the one of Divine provi- 
 dence, the other of human reason ; but the govern- 
 ment of the world, the administration of its affairs, 
 and the more secret Divine judgments, sound harsh 
 and dissonant to human ears or human judgment ; 
 and though this ignorance be justly rewarded with 
 asses' ears, yet they are put on and worn, not openly, 
 but with great secrecy ; nor is the deformity of the 
 thing seen or observed by the vulgar. 
 
 We must not find it strange if no amours are re- 
 lated of Pan besides his marriage with Echo ; for 
 nature enjoys itself, and in itself all other things. He 
 that loves, desires enjoyment, but in profusion there is 
 no room for desire ; and therefore Pan, remaining 
 content with himself, has no passion unless it be for 
 discourse, which is well shadowed out by Echo, or 
 talk, or, when it is more accurate, by Syrinx, or writ- 
 ing.^ But Echo makes a most excellent wife for Pan, 
 as being no other than genuine philosophy, whicli 
 faithfully repeats his words, or only transcribes ex- 
 actly as nature dictates; thus representing the true 
 image and reflection of the world without adding a 
 tittle. 
 
 1 Syrinx, signifying a reed, or the ancient pen. 
 
PERSEUS, OR WAR. 343 
 
 It tends, also, to the support and perfection of 
 Pan, or nature, to be without offspring ; for the world 
 generates in its parts, and not in the way of a whole, 
 as wanting a body external to itself wherewith to 
 generate. 
 
 Lastly, for the supposed or spurious prattling 
 dau2:hter of Pan, it is an excellent addition to the 
 fable, and aptly represents the talkative philosophies 
 that have at all times been stirring, and filled the 
 world with idle tales ; being ever barren, empty, and 
 servile, though sometimes indeed diverting and en- 
 tertaining, and sometimes again troublesome and 
 importunate. 
 
 VII. — PERSEUS,^ OR WAR. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF THE PREPARATION AND CONDUCT 
 NECESSARY TO WAR. 
 
 "The ftible relates, that Perseus was dispatched 
 from the east, by Pallas, to cut off Medusa's head, 
 who had committed great ravage upon the people of 
 the west ; for this Medusa was so dire a monster, as 
 to turn into stone all those who but looked upon her. 
 She was a Gorgon, and the only mortal one of the 
 three, the other two being invulnerable. Perseus, 
 therefore, preparing himself for this grand enter- 
 prise, had presents made him from three of the 
 
 1 Ovid, Metam. b. iv. 
 
344 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 gods : Mercury gave him wings for his heels ; Pluto, 
 a helmet ; and Pallas, a shield and a mirror. But, 
 though he was now so well equipped, he posted not 
 directly to Medusa, but first turned aside to the 
 Greae, who were half-sisters to the Gorgons. These 
 Grese were grayheaded, and like old women, from 
 their birth, having among them all three but one eye, 
 and one tooth, which, as they had occasion to go out, 
 they each wore by turns, and laid them down again 
 upon coming back. This eye and this tooth they 
 lent to Perseus, who now judging himself sufficiently 
 furnished, he, without further stop, flies swiftly 
 away to ^ledusa, and finds her asleej). But not 
 venturing his eyes, for fear she should wake, he 
 turned his head aside, and viewed her in Pallas's 
 mirror, and thus directing his stroke, cut off* her 
 head; when immediately, from the gushing blood, 
 there darted Pegasus mnged. Perseus now in- 
 serted Medusa's head into Pallas's shield, which 
 thence retained the faculty of astonishing and be- 
 numbing all who looked on it." 
 
 This fable seems invented to show the prudent 
 method of choosing, undertaking, and conducting a 
 war; and, accordingly, lays down three useful pre- 
 cepts about it, as if they were the precepts of Pallas. 
 
 The first is, that no prince should be over-solicit- 
 ous to subdue a neighboring nation ; for the method 
 of enlarging an empire is very different from that 
 of increasing an estate. Regard is justly had to 
 contiguity, or adjacency, in private lands and pos- 
 
PEESEUS, OR WAR. 345 
 
 sessions ; but in the extending of empire, the occa- 
 sion, the facility, and advantage of a war, are to be 
 regarded instead of vicinity. It is certain that the 
 Romans, at the time they stretched but little beyond 
 Liguria to the west, had by their arms subdued the 
 provinces as far as Mount Taurus to the east. And 
 thus Perseus readily undertook a very long expe- 
 dition, even from the east to the extremities of the 
 west. 
 
 The second precept is, that the cause of the war 
 be just and honorable; for this adds alacrity both 
 to the soldiers, and the people who find the supplies ; 
 procures aids, alliances, and numerous other con- 
 veniences. Now there is no cause of war more just 
 and laudable than the suppressing of tyranny ; by 
 which a people are dispirited, benumbed, or left 
 without life and vigor, as at the sight of IVIedusa. 
 
 Lastly, it is prudently added, that, as there were 
 three of the Gorgons, who represent war, Perseus 
 singled her out for this expedition that was mortal ; 
 which affords this precept, that such kind of wars 
 should be chose as may be brought to a conclusion 
 without pursuing vast and infinite hopes. 
 
 Again, Perseus's setting-out is extremely well 
 adapted to his undertaking, and in a manner com- 
 mands success ; he received dispatch from IVIercury, 
 secrecy from Pluto, and foresight from Pallas. It 
 also contains an excellent allegory, that the wings 
 given him by Mercury were for his heels, not for 
 his shoulders; because expedition is not so much 
 
346 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 required in the first preparations for war, as in the 
 subsequent matters, that administer to the first ; for 
 there is no error more frequent in war, than, after 
 brisk preparations, to halt for subsidiary forces and 
 effective supplies. 
 
 The allegory of Pluto's helmet, rendering men 
 invisible and secret, is sufficiently evident of itself ; 
 but the mystery of the shield and the mirror lies 
 deeper ; and denotes, that not only a prudent caution 
 must be had to defend, like the shield, but also such 
 an address and penetration as may discover the 
 strength, the motions, the counsels, and designs of 
 the enemy; like the mirror of Pallas. 
 
 But though Perseus may now seem extremely 
 well prepared, there still remains the most impor- 
 tant thing of all ; before he enters upon the war, he 
 must of necessity consult the Grese. These Grese 
 are treasons ; half, but degenerate sisters of the Gor- 
 gons; who are representatives of wars; for wars 
 are generous and noble ; but treasons base and vile. 
 The Grese are elegantly described as hoary-headed, 
 and like old women from their birth ; on account of 
 the perpetual cares, fears, and trepidations attend- 
 ing traitors. Their force, also, before it breaks out 
 into open revolt, consists either in an eye or a tooth ; 
 for all faction, alienated from a state, is both watch- 
 ful and biting; and this eye and tooth are, as it 
 were, common to all the disaffected ; because what- 
 ever they learn and know is transmitted from one 
 to another, as by the hands of faction. And for 
 
PERSEUS, OR WAR. 347 
 
 the tooth, they all bite with the same : and clamor 
 with one throat; so that each of them singly ex- 
 presses the multitude. 
 
 These Grese, therefore, must be prevailed upon 
 by Perseus to lend him their eye and their tooth ; 
 the eye to give him indications, and make discov- 
 eries ; the tooth for sowing rumors, raising envy, 
 and stirring up the minds of the people. And when 
 all these things are thus disposed and prepared, then 
 follows the action of the war. 
 
 He finds Medusa asleep ; for whoever undertakes 
 a war with prudence, generally falls upon the 
 enemy unprepared, and nearly in a state of security ; 
 and here is the occasion for Pallas's mirror: for it 
 is common enough, before the danger presents itself, 
 to see exactly into the state and posture of the 
 enemy ; but the principal use of the glass is, in the 
 very instant of danger, to discover the manner 
 thereof, and prevent consternation; which is the 
 thing intended by Perseus's turning his head aside, 
 and viewing the enemy in the glass. ^ 
 
 Two effects here follow the conquest: 1. The 
 darting forth of Pegasus ; which evidently denotes 
 fame, that flies abroad, proclaiming the victory far 
 and near. 2. The bearing of Medusa's head in the 
 shield, which is the greatest possible defence and 
 
 1 Thus it is the excellence of a general, early to discover what 
 turn the battle is likely to take ; and looking prudently behind, as 
 well as before, to pursue a victory so as not to be unprovided for a 
 retreat. 
 
348 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 safeguard ; for one grand and memorable enterprise, 
 happily accomplished, bridles all the motions and 
 attempts of the enemy, stupefies disafibction, and 
 quells commotions. 
 
 VIII.— END YMIO]^, OR A FAVORITE. 
 
 EXPLAINED OP COURT PAVORITES. 
 
 The goddess Luna is said to have fallen in love 
 'vvith the shepherd Endymion, and to have carried 
 on her amours with him in a new and singular man- 
 ner ; it being her custom, whilst he lay reposing in 
 his native cave, under Mount Latmus, to descend 
 frequently from her si)here, enjoy his company whilst 
 he slept, and then go up to heaven again. And all 
 this while, Endymion's fortune was no way prejudiced 
 by his unactive and sleepy life, the goddess causing 
 his flocks to thrive, and grow so exceeding numerous, 
 that none of the other shepherds could compare 
 with him. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable seems to describe the 
 tempers and dispositions of princes, who, being 
 thoughtful and suspicious, do not easily admit to 
 their privacies such men as are prying, curious, and 
 vigilant, or, as it were, sleepless ; but rather such 
 as are of an easy, obliging nature, and indulge them 
 in their pleasures, without seeking anything further ; 
 
ENDYMION, OR A FAVORITE. 349 
 
 but seeming ignorant, insensible, or, as it were, 
 lulled asleep before them.^ Princes usually treat 
 such persons familiarly; and quitting their throne, 
 like Luna, think they may, with safety, unbosom to 
 them. This temper was very remarkable in Tiberius, 
 a prince exceedingly difficult to please, and who had 
 no favorites but those that perfectly understood his 
 way, and, at the same time, obstinately dissembled 
 their knowledge, almost to a degree of stupidity. 
 
 The cave is not improperly mentioned in the 
 fable ; it being a common thing for the favorites of 
 a prince to have their pleasant retreats, whither to 
 invite him, by way of relaxation, though without 
 prejudice to their own fortunes; these favorites 
 usually making a good provision for themselves. 
 
 For though their prince should not, perhaps, pro- 
 mote them to dignities, yet, out of real affection, and 
 not only for convenience, they generally feel the 
 enriching influence of his bounty. 
 
 1 It may be remembered that the Athenian peasant voted for 
 the banishment of Aristides, because he was called the Just. 
 Shakspeare forcibly expresses the same thought : — 
 " Let me have men about me that are fat; 
 
 Sleek-headed men, and such as sleep o' nights : 
 
 Yond Cassius has a lean and hungry look; 
 
 He thinks too much : such men are dangerous. " 
 If Bacon had completed his intended work upon ** Sympathy and 
 Antipathy," the constant hatred evinced by ignorance of intellec- 
 tual superiority, originating sometimes in the painful feeling of 
 inferiority, sometimes in the fear of worldly injury would not 
 have escaped his notice. 
 
350 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 IX. — THE SISTER OF THE GIANTS, OE FAME. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF PUBLIC DETRACTION. 
 
 The poets relate, that the giants, produced from 
 the earth, made war upon Jupiter, and the other 
 gods, but were repulsed and conquered by thunder ; 
 whereat the earth, provoked, brought forth Fame, 
 the youngest sister of the giants, in revenge for the 
 death of her sons. 
 
 Explanation. — The meaning of the fable seems 
 to be this : the earth denotes the nature of the 
 vulgar, who are always swelling, and rising against 
 their rulers, and endeavoring at changes. This dis- 
 position, getting a fit opportunity, breeds rebels and 
 traitors, who, with impetuous rage, threaten and con- 
 trive the overthrow and destruction of princes. 
 
 And when brought under and subdued, the same 
 vile and restless nature of the people, impatient of 
 peace, produces rumors, detractions, slanders, libels, 
 &c., to blacken those in authority ; so that rebellious 
 actions and seditious rumors, differ not in origin and 
 stock, but only, as it were, in sex ; treasons and re- 
 bellions being the brothers, and scandal or detraction 
 the sister. 
 
ACTEON AND PENTHEUS. 351 
 
 X.— ACTEON AND PENTHEUS, OR A 
 CURIOUS MAN. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF CURIOSITY, OR PRYING INTO THE SECRETS 
 OF PRINCES AND DIVINE MYSTERIES. 
 
 The ancients afford us two examples for suppress- 
 ing the impertinent curiosity of mankind, in diving 
 into secrets, and imprudently longing and endeavoring 
 to discover them. The one of these is in the person 
 of Acteon, and the other in that of Pentheus. Acteon, 
 undesignedly chancing to see Diana naked, was turned 
 into a stag, and torn to pieces by his own hounds. 
 And Pentheus, desiring to pry into the hidden mys- 
 teries of Bacchus's sacrifice, and climbing a tree for 
 that purpose, was struck with a frenzy. This frenzy 
 of Pentheus caused him to see things double, particu- 
 larly the sun, and his own city, Thebes, so that 
 running homewards, and immediately espying another 
 Thebes, he runs towards that ; and thus continues in- 
 cessantly, tending first to the one, and then to the 
 other, without coming at either. 
 
 Explanation. — The first of these fables may re- 
 late to the secrets of princes, and the second to divine 
 mysteries. For they who are not intimate with a 
 prince, yet, against his will, have a knowledge of his 
 secrets, inevitably incur his displeasure ; and therefore, 
 being aware that they are singled out, and all oppor- 
 tunities watched against them, they lead the life of a 
 
352 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 stag, full of fears and suspicions. It likewise fre- 
 quently happens that their servants and domestics 
 accuse them, and plot ,their overthrow, in order to 
 procure favor with the prince ; for whenever the king 
 manifests his displeasure, the person it falls upon 
 must expect his servants to betray him, and worry 
 him down, as Acteon was worried by his own dogs. 
 
 The punishment of Pentheus is of another kind ; 
 for they who, unmindful of their mortal state, rashly 
 aspire to divine mysteries, by climbing the heights of 
 nature and philosophy, here represented by climbing 
 a tree, — their fate is perpetual inconstancy, perplex- 
 ity, and instability of judgment. For as there is one 
 light of nature, and another light that is divine, they 
 see, as it were, two suns. And as the actions of life, 
 and the determinations of the will, depend upon the 
 understanding, they are distracted as much in opinion 
 as in will; and therefore judge very inconsistently, or 
 contradictorily ; and see, as it were, Thebes double ; 
 for Thebes being the refuge and habitation of Pen- 
 theus, here denotes the ends of actions ; whence they 
 know not what course to take, but remaining unde- 
 termined and unresolved in their views and designs, 
 they are merely driven about by every sudden gust 
 and impulse of the mind. 
 
ORPHEUS, OR PHILOSOPHY. 353 
 
 XL — ORPHEUS, OR PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF NATURAL AND MORAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Introduction. — The fable of Orpheus, though 
 trite and common, has never been well interpreted, 
 and seems to hold out a picture of universal philos- 
 ophy ; for to this sense may be easily transferred what 
 is said of his being a wonderful and perfectly divine 
 person, skilled in all kinds of harmony, subduing and 
 drawing all things after him by sweet and gentle 
 methods and modulations. For the labors of Orpheus 
 exceed the labors of Hercules, both in power and dig- 
 nity, as the works of knowledge exceed the works of 
 strength. 
 
 Fable. — Orpheus having his beloved wife 
 snatched from him by sudden death, resolved upon 
 descending to the infernal regions, to try if, by the 
 power of his harp, he could reobtain her. And, in 
 effect, he so appeased and soothed the infernal powers 
 by the melody and sweetness of his harp and voice, 
 that they indulged him the liberty of taking her back, 
 on condition that she should follow him behind, and 
 he not turn to look upon her till they came into open 
 day ; but he, through the impatience of his care and 
 affection, and thinking himself almost past danger, 
 at length looked behind him, whereby the condition 
 was violated, and she again precipitated to Pluto's 
 
 23 
 
354 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 regions. From this time Orpheus grew pensive and 
 sad, a hater of the sex, and went into solitude, where, 
 by the same sweetness of his harp and voice, he first 
 drew the wild beasts of all sorts about him ; so that, 
 forgetting their natures, they were neither actuated 
 by revenge, cruelty, lust, hunger, or the desire of 
 prey, but stood gazing about him, in a tame and gen- 
 tle manner, listening attentively to his music. Nay, 
 so great was the power and efficacy of his harmony, 
 that it even caused the trees and stones to remove, 
 and place themselves in a regular manner about him. 
 When he had for a time, and with great admiration, 
 continued to do this, at length the Thracian women, 
 raised by the instigation of Bacchus, first blew a deep 
 and hoarse-sounding horn, in such an outrageous 
 manner, that it quite drowned the music of Orpheus. 
 And thus the power which, as the link of their society, 
 held all things in order, being dissolved, disturbance 
 reigned anew ; each creature returned to its own na- 
 ture, and pursued and preyed upon its fellow, as 
 before. The rocks and woods also started back to 
 their former places ; and even Orpheus himself was at 
 last torn to pieces by these female furies, and his 
 limbs scattered all over the desert. But, in sorrow 
 and revenge for his death, the River Helicon, sacred 
 to the Muses, hid its waters under ground, and rose 
 again in other places. 
 
 Explanation. — The fable receives this explana- 
 tion. The music of Orpheus is of two kinds ; one 
 
ORPHEUS, OR PHILOSOPHY. 355 
 
 that appeases the infernal powers, and the other that 
 draws together the wild beasts and trees. The former 
 properly relates to natural, and the hitter to moral 
 philosophy, or civil society. The reinstatement and 
 restoration of corruptible things is the noblest work 
 of natural philosophy ; and, in a less degree, the 
 preservation of bodies in their own state, or a preven- 
 tion of their dissolution and corruption. And if this 
 be possible, it can certainly be effected no other way 
 than by proper and exquisite attemperations of nature; 
 as it were by the harmony and fine touching of the 
 harp. But as this is a thing of exceeding great diffi- 
 culty, the end is seldom obtained ; and that, probably, 
 for no reason more than a curious and unseasonable 
 impatience and solicitude. 
 
 And, therefore, philosophy, being almost unequal 
 to the task, has cause to grow sad, and hence be- 
 takes itself to human affairs, insinuating into men's 
 minds the love of virtue, equity, and peace, by means 
 of eloquence and persuasion ; thus forming men into 
 societies ; bringing them under laws and regulations ; 
 and making them forget their unbridled passions 
 and affections, so long as they hearken to precepts 
 and submit to discipline. And thus they soon after 
 build themselves habitations, form cities, cultivate 
 lands, plant orchards, gardens, &c. So that they 
 may not improperly be said to remove and call the 
 trees and stones together. 
 
 And this regard to civil affairs is justly and reg- 
 ularly placed after diligent trial made for restoring 
 
356 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 the mortal body ; the attempt being frustrated in the 
 end — because the unavoidable necessity of death, 
 thus evidently laid before mankind, animates them 
 to seek a kind of eternity by works of perpetuity, 
 character, and fame. 
 
 It is also prudently added, that Orpheus was after- 
 wards averse to women and wedlock, because the 
 indulgence of the married state, and the natural 
 affections which men have for their children, often 
 prevent them from entering upon any grand, noble, 
 or meritorious enterprise for the public good; as 
 thinking it sufficient to obtain immortality by 
 their descendants, without endeavoring at great 
 actions. 
 
 And even the works of knowledge, though the 
 most excellent among human things, have their pe- 
 riods ; for after kingdoms and commonwealths have 
 flourished for a time, disturbances, seditions, and 
 wars, often arise, in the din whereof, first the laws 
 are silent, and not heard; and then men return to 
 their own depraved natures — whence cultivated 
 lands and cities soon become desolate and waste. 
 And if this disorder continues, learning and philos- 
 ophy is infallibly torn to pieces ; so that only some 
 scattered fragments thereof can afterwards be found 
 up and down, in a few places, like planks after a 
 shipwreck. And barbarous times succeeding, the 
 River Helicon dips under-ground ; that is, letters 
 are buried, till things having undergone their due 
 
CCELUM, OR BEGINNINGS. 357 
 
 course of changes, learning rises again, and shows 
 its head, though seldom in the same place, but in 
 some other nation.^ 
 
 XII. — CCELUM, OR BEGINNINGS. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF THE CREATION, OR ORIGIN OF ALL THINGS. 
 
 The poets relate, that Coelum was the most an- 
 cient of all the gods; that his parts of generation 
 were cut off by his son Saturn ; that Saturn had a 
 numerous offspring, but devoured all his sons, as 
 soon as they were born; that Jupiter at length 
 escaped the common fate ; and when grown up, 
 drove his father Saturn into Tartarus ; usurped the 
 kingdom ; cut off his father's genitals, with the same 
 knife wherewith Saturn had dismembered Coelum, 
 and throwing them into the sea, thence sprung 
 Venus. 
 
 Before Jupiter was well established in his empire, 
 two memorable wars were made upon him ; the 
 first by the Titans, in subduing of whom, Sol, the 
 only one of the Titans who favored Jupiter, per- 
 formed him singular service; the second by the 
 
 1 Thus we see that Orpheus denotes learning ; Emydice, things, 
 or the subject of learning ; Bacchus, and the Thracian women, men's 
 ungoverned passions and appetites, &c. And in the same manner 
 all the ancient fables might be familiarly illustrated, and brought 
 down to the capacities of children. 
 
358 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 giants, who being destroyed and subdued by the 
 thunder and arms of Jupiter, he now reigned secure. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable appears to be an 
 enigmatical account of the origin of all things, not 
 greatly differing from the philosophy afterwards em- 
 braced by Democritus, who expressly asserts the 
 eternity of matter, but denies the eternity of the world; 
 thereby approaching to the truth of sacred writ, 
 which makes chaos, or uninformed matter, to exist 
 before the six days' works. 
 
 The meaning of the fable seems to be this : Coelum 
 denotes the concave space, or vaulted roof that 
 incloses all matter, and Saturn the matter itself, 
 which cuts off all power of generation from his 
 father; as one and the same quantity of matter 
 remains invariable in nature, without addition or 
 diminution. But the agitations and struggling mo- 
 tions of matter, first produced certain imperfect and 
 ill-joined compositions of things, as it were so many 
 first rudiments, or essays of worlds ; till, in process 
 of time, there arose a fabric capable of preserving 
 its form and structure. Whence the first age was 
 shadowed out by the reign of Saturn ; who, on 
 account of the frequent dissolutions, and short dura- 
 tions of things, was said to devour his children. 
 And the second age was denoted by the reign of 
 Jupiter; who thrust, or drove those frequent and 
 transitory changes into Tartarus — a place expres- 
 sive of disorder. This place seems to be the middle 
 
CCELUM, OR BEGINNINGS. 359 
 
 space, between the lower heavens and the internal 
 parts of the earth, wherem disorder, imperfection, 
 mutation, mortality, destruction, and corruption, are 
 principally found. 
 
 Venus was not born during the former generation 
 of things, under the reign of Saturn ; for whilst 
 discord and jar had the upper hand of concord and 
 uniformity in the matter of the universe, a change 
 of the entire structure was necessary. And in this 
 manner things were generated and destroyed, before 
 Saturn was dismembered. But when this manner 
 of generation ceased, there immediately followed 
 another, brought about by Venus, or a perfect and 
 established harmony of things ; whereby changes 
 were wrought in the parts, whilst the universal fabric 
 remained entire and undisturbed. Saturn, however, 
 is said to be thrust out and dethroned, not killed, 
 and become extinct ; because, agreeably to the opinioai 
 of Democritus, the world might relapse into its old 
 confusion and disorder, which Lucretius hoped would 
 not happen in his time.^ 
 
 But now, when the world was compact, and held 
 together by its own bulk and energy, yet there was 
 no rest from the beginning ; for first, there followed 
 considerable motions and disturbances in the celestial 
 regions, though so regulated and moderated by the 
 power of the Sun, prevailing over the heavenly 
 bodies, as to continue the world in its state. After- 
 
 1 " Quod procul a nobis flectat Fortuna gubemans ; 
 Et ratio potius quam res persuadeat ipsa." 
 
360 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 wards there followed the like in the lower parts, by 
 inundations, storms, winds, general earthquakes, &c., 
 which, however, being subdued and kept under, there 
 ensued a more peaceable and lasting harmony, and 
 consent of things. 
 
 It may be said of this ftible, that it includes phi- 
 losophy; and again, that philosophy includes the 
 fable ; for we know, by faith, that all these things 
 are but the oracle of sense, long since ceased and 
 decayed; but the matter and fabric of the world 
 being justly attributed to a creator. 
 
 XIIL — PROTEUS, OR MATTER. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF MATTER AND ITS CHANGES. 
 
 Proteus, according to the poets, was Neptune's 
 herdsman ; an old man, and a most extraordinary 
 prophet, who understood things past and present, as 
 well as future; so that besides the business of divi- 
 nation, he was the revealer and interpreter of all 
 antiquity, and secrets of every kind. He lived in 
 a vast cave, where his custom was to tell over his 
 herd of searcalves at noon, and then to sleep. Wlio- 
 ever consulted him, had no other way of obtaining 
 an answer, but by binding him with manacles and 
 fetters ; when he, endeavoring to free himself, would 
 change into all kinds of shapes and miraculous forms ; 
 as of fire, water, wild beasts, &c. ; till at length he 
 resumed his own shape again. 
 
PROTEUS, OR MATTER. 361 
 
 Explanation. — This fable seems to point at 
 the secrets of nature, and the states of matter. For 
 the person of Proteus denotes matter, the oldest of 
 all things, after God himself;^ that resides, as in a 
 cave, under the vast concavity of the heavens. He 
 is represented as the servant of Neptune, because 
 the various operations and modifications of matter 
 are principally wrought in a fluid state. The herd, 
 or flock of Proteus, seems to be no other than the 
 several kinds of animals, plants, and minerals, in 
 which matter appears to diff'use and spend itself; 
 so that after having formed these several species, 
 and as it were finished its task, it seems to sleep and 
 repose, without otherwise attempting to produce 
 any new ones. And this is the moral of Proteus's 
 counting his herd, then going to sleep. 
 
 This is said to be done at noon, not in the morning 
 or evening ; by which is meant the time best fitted 
 and disposed for the production of species, from a 
 matter duly prepared, and made ready beforehand, 
 and now lying in a middle state, between its first 
 rudiments and decline ; which, we learn from sacred 
 history, was the case at the time of the creation ; 
 when, by the efficacy of the divine command, matter 
 directly came together, without any transformation 
 or intermediate changes, which it affects ; instantly 
 obeyed the order, and appeared in the form of 
 creatures. 
 
 And thus far the fable reaches of Proteus, and 
 
 1 Proteus properly signifies primary, oldest, or first. 
 
362 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 his flock, at liberty and unrestrained. For the uni- 
 verse, with the common structures, and fabrics of 
 the creatures, is the face of matter, not under con- 
 straint, or as the flock wrought upon and tortured 
 by human means. But if any skilful minister of 
 nature shall apply force to matter, and by design 
 torture and vex it, in order to its annihilation, it, 
 on the contrary, being brought under this necessity^ 
 changes and transforms itself into a strange variety 
 of shapes and appearances ; for nothing but the 
 power of the Creator can annihilate, or truly destroy 
 it; so that at length, running through the whole 
 circle of transformations, and completing its period, 
 it in some degree restores itself, if the force be con- 
 tinued. And that method of binding, torturing, or 
 detaining, will prove the most effectual and expedi- 
 tious, which makes use of manacles and fetters ; 
 that is, lays hold and works upon matter in tlie 
 extremest degrees. 
 
 The addition in the fable that makes Proteus a 
 prophet, who had the knowledge of things past, 
 present, and future, excellently agrees with the nature 
 of matter ; as he who knows the properties, the 
 changes, and the processes of matter, must, of neces- 
 sity, understand the eflects and sum of what it does, 
 has done, or can do, though his knowledge extends 
 not to all the parts and particulars thereof. 
 
MEMNON, OR A YOUTH TOO FORWARD. 363 
 
 XIV.— MEMNON, OR A YOUTH TOO 
 FORWARD. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF THE FATAL PRECIPITANCY OF YOUTH. 
 
 The poets made Memnon the son of Aurora, and 
 bring him to the Trojan war in beautiful armor, and 
 flushed with popular praise ; where, thirsting after 
 further glory, and rashly hurrying on to the greatest 
 enterprises, he engages the bravest warrior of all the 
 Greeks, Achilles, and falls by his hand in single com- 
 bat. Jupiter, in commiseration of his death, sent birds 
 to grace his funeral, that perpetually chanted certain 
 mournful and bewailing dirges. It is also reported, 
 that the rays of the rising sun, striking his statue, 
 used to give a lamenting sound. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable regards the unfor- 
 tunate end of those promising youths, who, like sons 
 of the morning, elate with empty hopes and glitter- 
 ing outsides, attempt things beyond their strength ; 
 challenge the bravest heroes ; provoke them to the 
 combat; and, proving unequal, die in their high 
 attempts. 
 
 The death of such youths seldom fails to meet with 
 infinite pity ; as no mortal calamity is more moving 
 and afflicting, than to see the flower of virtue cropped 
 before its time. Nay, the prime of life enjoyed to the 
 full, or even to a degree of envy, does not assauge or 
 moderate the grief occasioned by the untimely death 
 
364 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 of such hopeful youths ; but lamentations and bewail- 
 ings fly, like mournful birds, about their tombs, for a 
 long while after ; especially upon all fresh occasions, 
 new commotions, and the beginning of great actions, 
 the passionate desire of them is renewed, as by the 
 sun's morning rays. 
 
 XV.— TYTHONUS, OR SATIETY. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF PREDOMINANT PASSIONS. 
 
 It is elegantly fabled by Tythonus, that being ex- 
 ceedingly beloved by Aurora, she petitioned Jupiter 
 that he might prove immortal, thereby to secure her- 
 self the everlasting enjoyment of his company; but 
 through female inadvertence she forgot to add, that 
 he might never grow old ; so that, though he proved 
 immortal, he became miserably worn and consumed 
 with age, insomuch that Jupiter, out of pity, at length 
 transformed him to a grasshopper. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable seems to contain an 
 ingenious description of pleasure ; which at first, as 
 it were in the morning of the day, is so welcome, 
 that men pray to have it everlasting, but forget that 
 satiety and weariness of it will, like old age, overtake 
 them, though they think not of it ; so that at length, 
 when their appetite for pleasurable actions is gone, 
 their desires and afi*ections often continue; whence 
 
JUNO'S SUITOK, OK BASENESS. 365 
 
 we commonly find that aged persons delight them- 
 selves with the discourse and remembrance of the 
 things agreeable to them in their better days. This is 
 very remarkable in men of a loose, and men of a mili- 
 tary life ; the former whereof are always talking over 
 their amours, and the latter the exploits of their 
 youth ; like grasshoppers, that show their vigor only 
 by their chirping. 
 
 XYI. — JU:^^0'S SUITOR, OR BASENESS. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF SUBMISSION AND ABJECTION. 
 
 The poets tell us, that Jupiter, to carry on his love- 
 intrigues, assumed many different shapes ; as of a 
 bull, an eagle, a swan, a golden shower, &c. ; but 
 when he attempted Juno, he turned himself into the 
 most ignoble and ridiculous creature, — even that of 
 a wretched, wet, weather-beaten, affrighted, trembling 
 and half-starved cuckoo. 
 
 Explanation. — This is a wise fable, and drawn 
 from the very entrails of morality. The moral is, that 
 men should not be conceited of themselves, and 
 imagine that a discovery of their excellences will 
 always render them acceptable ; for this can only 
 succeed according to the nature and manners of the 
 person they court, or solicit; who, if he be a man not 
 of the same gifts and endowments, but altogether of 
 
366 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 a haughty and contemptuous behavior, here repre- 
 sented by the person of Juno, they must entirely drop 
 the character that carries the least show of worth or 
 gracefulness ; if they proceed upon any other footing, 
 it is downright folly ; nor is it sufficient to act the 
 deformity of obsequiousness, unless they really change 
 themselves, and become abject and contemptible in 
 their persons. 
 
 XYIL — CUPID, OR AN ATOM. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF THE CORPUSCULAR PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The particulars related by the poets of Cupid, or 
 Love, do not properly agree to the same person, yet 
 they differ only so far, that if the confusion of persons 
 be rejected, the correspondence may hold. They say, 
 that Love was the most ancient of all the gods, and 
 existed before every thing else, except Chaos, which 
 is held coeval therewith. But for Chaos, the ancients 
 never paid divine honors, nor gave the title of a god 
 thereto. Love is represented absolutely without pro- 
 genitor, excepting only that he is said to have pro- 
 ceeded from the egg of Nox ; but that himself begot 
 the gods, and all things else, on Chaos. His attri- 
 butes are four; viz: 1, perpetual infancy; 2, blind- 
 ness; 3, nakedness; and 4, archery. 
 
 There was also another Cupid, or Love, the 
 youngest son of the gods, born of Venus ; and upon 
 
CUPID, OR AN ATOM. 367 
 
 him tlxe attributes of the elder are transferred, with 
 some degree of correspondence. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable points at, and enters, 
 the cradle of nature. Love seems to be the appe- 
 tite, or incentive, of the primitive matter; or, to 
 speak more distinctly, the natural motion, or moving 
 principle, of the original corpuscles, or atoms; this 
 being the most ancient and only power that made 
 and wrought all things out of matter. It is abso- 
 lutely without parent, that is, without cause ; for 
 causes are as parents to effects; but this power or 
 efficacy could have no natural cause ; for, excepting 
 God, nothing was before it; and therefore it could 
 have no efficient in nature. And as nothing is more 
 inward with nature, it can neither be a genus nor a 
 form ; and therefore, whatever it is, it must be 
 somewhat positive, though inexpressible. And if it 
 were possible to conceive its modus and process, yet 
 it could not be known from its cause, as being, next 
 to God, the cause of causes, and itself without a 
 cause. And, perhaps, we are not to hope that the 
 modus of it should fall, or be comprehended, under 
 human inquiry. Whence it is properly feigned to 
 be the egg of N'ox, or laid in the dark. 
 
 The divine philosopher declares, that " God has 
 made every thing beautiful in its season ; and has 
 given over the world to our disputes and inquiries ; 
 but that man cannot find out the work which God 
 has wrought, from its beginning up to its end." 
 
368 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 Tims the summary or collective law of nature, or 
 the principle of love, impressed by God upon the 
 original particles of all things, so as to make them 
 attack each other and come together, by the repeti- 
 tion and multiplication whereof all the variety in the 
 universe is produced, can scarce possibly find full 
 admittance into the thoughts of men, though some 
 faint notion may be had thereof. The Greek philos- 
 ophy is subtile, and busied in discovering the ma- 
 terial principles of things, but negligent and languid 
 in discovering the principles of motion, in which 
 the energy and efficacy of every operation consists. 
 And here the Greek philosophers seem perfectly 
 blind and childish ; for the opinion of the Peripa- 
 tetics, as to the stimulus of matter, by privation, is 
 little more than words, or rather sound than signifi- 
 cation. And they who refer it to God, though they 
 do well therein, yet they do it by a start, and not by 
 proper degrees of assent ; for doubtless there is one 
 summary, or capital law, in which nature meets, 
 subordinate to God, viz: the law mentioned in the 
 passage above quoted from Solomon ; or the work 
 which God has wrought from its beginning to its end. 
 Democritus, who further considered this subject, 
 having first supposed an atom, or corpuscle, of some 
 dimension or figure, attributed thereto an appetite, 
 desire, or first motion simply, and another compar- 
 atively, imagining that all things properly tended to 
 the centre of the world ; those containing more mat- 
 ter falling faster to the centre, and thereby remov- 
 
CUPID, OR AN ATOM. 369 
 
 ing, and in the shock driving away, such as held 
 less. But this is a slender conceit, and regards too 
 few particulars ; for neither the revolutions of the 
 celestial bodies, nor the contractions and expansions 
 of things, can be reduced to this principle. And 
 for the opinion of Epicurus, as to the declination 
 and fortuitous agitation of atoms, this only brings 
 the matter back again to a trifle, and wraps it up in 
 ignorance and night. 
 
 Cupid is elegantly drawn a perpetual child ; for 
 compounds are larger things, and have their periods 
 of age ; but the first seeds or atoms of bodies are 
 small, and remain in a perpetual infant state. 
 
 He is again justly represented naked; as all 
 compounds may properly be said to be dressed and 
 clothed, or to assume a personage ; whence nothing 
 remains truly naked, but the original particles of 
 things. 
 
 The blindness of Cupid contains a deep allegory ; 
 for this same Cupid, Love, or appetite of the world, 
 seems to have very little foresight, but directs his 
 steps and motions conformably to what he finds next 
 him, as blind men do when they feel out their way ; 
 which renders the divine and overruling Providence 
 and foresight the more surprising ; as by a certain 
 steady law, it brings such a beautiful order and reg- 
 ularity of things out of what seems extremely casual, 
 void of design, and, as it were, really blind. 
 
 The last attribute of Cupid is archery, \iz : a 
 virtue or power operating at a distance ; for every 
 
 24 
 
370 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 thing that operates at a distance may seem, as it 
 were, to dart, or shoot with arrows. And whoever 
 allows of atoms and vacuity, necessarily supposes 
 that the virtue of atoms operates at a distance ; for 
 without this operation, no motion could be excited, 
 on -account of the vacuum interposing, but all things 
 would remain sluggish and unmoved. 
 
 As to the other Cupid, he is properly said to be 
 the youngest son of the gods, as his power could not 
 take place before the formation of species, or par- 
 ticular bodies. The description given us of him 
 transfers the allegory to morality, though he still 
 retains some resemblance with the ancient Cupid; 
 for as Venus universally excites the affection of as- 
 sociation, and the desire of procreation, her son 
 Cupid applies the affection to individuals ; so that 
 the general disposition proceeds from Venus, but the 
 more close sympathy from Cupid. The former de- 
 pends upon a near approximation of causes, but the 
 latter upon deeper, more necessitating and uncon- 
 trollable principles, as if they proceeded from the 
 ancient Cupid, on whom all exquisite sympathies 
 depend. 
 
DIOMED, OR ZEAL. 371 
 
 XVIIL — DIOMED, OR ZEAL. 
 
 EXPLAINED OP PERSECUTION, OR ZEAL FOR RELIGION. 
 
 DiOMED acquired great glory and honor at the 
 Trojan war, and was highly favored by Pallas, who 
 encouraged and excited him by no means to spare 
 Venus, if he should casually meet her in fight. He 
 followed the advice with too much eagerness and 
 intrepidity, and accordingly wounded that goddess 
 in her hand. This presumptuous action remained 
 unpunished for a time, and when the war was ended 
 lie returned with great glory and renown to his own 
 country, where, finding himself embroiled with do- 
 mestic affairs, he retired into Italy. Here also at 
 first he was well received and nobly entertained by 
 King Daunus, who, besides other gifts and honors, 
 erected statues for him over all his dominions. But 
 upon the first calamity that afflicted the people after 
 the stranger's arrival, Daunus immediately reflected 
 that he entertained a devoted person in his palace, 
 an enemy to the gods, and one who had sacrile- 
 giously wounded a goddess with his sword, whom it 
 was impious but to touch. To expiate, therefore, 
 his country's guilt, he, without regard to the laws of 
 hospitality, which were less regarded by him than 
 the laws of religion, directly slew his guest, and 
 commanded his statues and all his honors to be 
 razed and abolished. Nor was it safe for others to 
 
372 WISDOxAI OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 commiserate or bewail so cruel a destiny ; but even 
 his companions in arms, whilst they lamented the 
 death of their leader, and filled all places with their 
 complaints, were turned into a kind of swans, which 
 are said, at the approach of their own death, to chant 
 sweet melancholy dirges. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable intimates an extra- 
 ordinary and almost singular thing, for no hero be- 
 sides Diomed is recorded to have wounded any of 
 the gods. Doubtless we have here described the 
 nature and fate of a man who professedly makes 
 any divine worship or sect of religion, though, in it- 
 self vain and light, the only scope of his actions, and 
 resolves to propagate it by fire and sword. For 
 although the bloody dissensions and differences about 
 religion were unknown to the ancients, yet so copious 
 and diffusive was their knowledge, that what they 
 knew not by experience they comprehended in 
 thought and representation. Those, therefore, who 
 endeavor to reform or establish any sect of religion, 
 though vain, corrupt, and infamous (which is here 
 denoted under the person of Yenus), not by the force 
 of reason, learning, sanctity of manners, the weight 
 of arguments, and examples, but would spread 
 or extirpate it by persecution, pains, penalties, tor- 
 tures, fire, and sword, may, perhaps, be instigated 
 hereto by Pallas, that is, by a certain rigid, pruden- 
 tial consideration, and a severity of judgment, by the 
 vigor and efficacy whereof they see thoroughly into 
 
DIOMED, OR ZEAL. 373 
 
 the fallacies and fictions of the delusions of this kind : 
 
 and through aversion to depravity and a well-meant 
 zeal, tliese men usually for a time acquire great fame 
 and glory, and are by the vulgar, to whom no mod- 
 erate measures can be acceptable, extolled and al- 
 most adored, as the only patrons and protectors of 
 truth and religion, men of any other disposition 
 seeming, in comparison with these, to be lukewarm, 
 mean-spirited, and cowardly. This fame and felicity, 
 however, seldom endures to the end ; but all violence, 
 unless it escapes the reverses and changes of things 
 by untimely death, is commonly unprosperous in the 
 issTie; and if a change of affairs happens, and that 
 sect of religion which was persecuted and oppressed 
 gains strength and rises again, then the zeal and 
 warm endeavors of this sort of men are condemned, 
 their very name becomes odious, and all their honors 
 terminate in disgrace. 
 
 As to the point that Diomed should be slain by 
 his hospitable entertainer, this denotes that religious 
 dissensions may cause treachery, bloody animosities, 
 and deceit, even between the nearest friends. 
 
 That complaining or bewailing should not, in so 
 enormous a case, be permitted to friends affected by 
 the catastrophe without punishment, includes this 
 prudent admonition, that almost in all kinds of 
 wickedness and depravity men have still room left 
 for commiseration, so that they who hate the crime 
 may yet pity the person and bewail his calamity, 
 from a principle of humanity and good-nature ; and 
 
374 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 to forbid the overflowings and intercourses of pity 
 upon such occasions were the extremest of evils; 
 yet in the cause of religion and impiety the very 
 commiserations of men are noted and suspected. 
 On the other hand, the lamentations and complain- 
 ings of the followers and attendants of Diomed, that 
 is, of men of the same sect or persuasion, are usually 
 very sweet, agreeable, and moving, like the dying 
 notes of swans, or the birds of Diomed. This also 
 is a noble and remarkable part of the allegory, de- 
 noting that the last words of those who sufi'er for 
 the sake of religion strongly affect and sway men's 
 minds, and leave a lasting impression upon the sense 
 and memory. 
 
 XIX.— D.EDALUS, OR MECHANICAL SKILL. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF ARTS AND ARTISTS IN KINGDOMS AND 
 STATES. 
 
 The ancients have left us a description of mechan- 
 ical skill, industry, and curious arts converted to ill 
 uses, in the person of Daedalus, a most ingenious 
 but execrable artist. This Daedalus was banished 
 for the murder of his brother artist and rival, yet 
 found a kind reception in his banishment from the 
 kings and states where he came. He raised many 
 incomparable edifices to the honor of the gods, and 
 invented many new contrivances for the beautifying 
 
DiEDALUS, OR MECHANICAL SKILL. 375 
 
 and ennobling of cities and public places, but still he 
 was most famous for wicked inventions. Among 
 the rest, by his abominable industry and destructive 
 genius, he assisted in the fatal and infamous pro- 
 duction of the monster Minotaur, that devourer of 
 promising youths. And then, to cover one mischief 
 with another, and provide for the security of this 
 monster, he invented and built a labyrinth ; a work 
 infamous for its end and design, but admirable and 
 prodigious for art and workmanship. After this, 
 that he might not only be celebrated for wicked 
 inventions, but be sought after, as well for preven- 
 tion, as for instruments of mischief, he formed that 
 ingenious device of his clue, which led directly 
 through all the windings of the labyrinth. This 
 Daedalus was persecuted by Minos with the utmost 
 severity, diligence, and inquiry ; but he always found 
 refuge and means of escaping. Lastly, endeavor- 
 ing to teach his son Icarus the art of flying, the 
 novice, trusting too much to his wings, fell from his 
 towering flight, and was drowned in the sea. 
 
 Explanation. — The sense of the fable runs 
 thus. It first denotes envy, which is continually 
 upon the watch, and strangely prevails among ex- 
 cellent artificers ; for no kind of people are observed 
 to be more implacably and destructively envious to 
 one another than these. 
 
 In the next place, it observes an impolitic and 
 improvident kind of punishment inflicted upon 
 
376 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 Daedalus — that of banishment ; for good workmen 
 are gladly received everywhere, so that banishment 
 to an excellent artificer is scarce any punishment 
 at all ; whereas other conditions of life cannot easily 
 flourish from home. For the admiration of artists 
 is propagated and increased among foreigners and 
 strangers ; it being a principle in the minds of men 
 to slight and despise the mechanical operators of 
 their own nation. 
 
 The succeeding part of the fable is plain, con- 
 cerning the use of mechanic arts, whereto human 
 life stands greatly indebted, as receiving from this 
 treasury numerous particulars for the service of 
 religion, the ornament of civil society, and the whole 
 provision and apparatus of life ; but then the same 
 magazine supplies instruments of lust, cruelty, and 
 death. For, not to mention the arts of luxury and 
 debauchery, we plainly see how far the business of 
 exquisite poisons, guns, engines of war, and such 
 kind of destructive inventions, exceeds the cruelty 
 and barbarity of the Minotaur himself. 
 
 The addition of the labyrinth contains a beautiful 
 allegory, representing the nature of mechanic arts 
 in general ; for all ingenious and accurate mechan- 
 ical inventions may be conceived as a labyrinth, 
 which, by reason of their subtilty, intricacy, crossing, 
 and interfering with one another, and the apparent 
 resemblances they have among themselves, scarce 
 any power of the judgment can unravel and distin- 
 guish ; so that they are only to be understood and 
 traced by the clue of experience. 
 
D^DALUS, OR MECHANICAL SKILL. 377 
 
 It is no less prudently added, that he who invented 
 the windings of tho labyrinth, should also show the 
 use and management of the clue ; for mechanical 
 arts have an ambiguous or double use, and serve as 
 well to produce as to prevent mischief and destruc- 
 tion ; so that their virtue almost destroys or unwinds 
 itself. 
 
 UnlaAvful arts, and indeed frequently arts them- 
 selves, are persecuted by Minos, that is, by laws, 
 which prohibit and forbid their use among the 
 people ; but notwithstanding this, they are hid, con- 
 cealed, retained, and everywhere find reception and 
 skulking-places ; a thing well observed by Tacitus 
 of the astrologers and fortune-tellers of his time. 
 "These," says he, "are a kind of men that will 
 always be prohibited, and yet will always be retained 
 in our city." 
 
 But lastly, all unlawful and vain arts, of what 
 kind soever, lose their reputation in tract of time ; 
 grow contemptible and perish, through their over- 
 confidence, like Icarus; being commonly unable to 
 perform what they boasted. And to say the truth, 
 such arts are better suppressed by their own vain 
 pretensions, than checked or restrained by the bridle 
 of laws.^ 
 
 1 Bacon nowhere speaks with such freedom and perspicuity as 
 under the pretext of explaining these ancient fables; for which 
 reason they deserve to be the more read by such as desire to under- 
 stand the rest of his works. 
 
378 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 XX. — ERICTHONIUS, OR IMPOSTURE. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF THE IMPROPER USE OF FORCE IN NATURAL 
 PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The poets feign that Vulcan attempted the chas- 
 tity of Minerva, and impatient of refusal, had re- 
 course to force ; the consequence of which was the 
 birth of Ericthonius, whose body from the middle 
 upwards was comely and well-proportioned, but his 
 thighs and legs small, shrunk, and deformed, like an 
 eel. Conscious of this defect, he became the in- 
 ventor of chariots, so as to show the graceful, but 
 conceal the deformed part of his body. 
 
 Explanation. — This strange fable seems to 
 carry this meaning. Art is here represented under 
 the person of Vulcan, by reason of the various uses 
 it makes of fire ; and nature, under the person of 
 Minerva, by reason of the industry employed in her 
 works. Art, therefore, whenever it offers violence 
 to nature, in order to conquer, subdue, and bend her 
 to its purpose, by tortures and force of all kinds, 
 seldom obtains the end proposed; yet upon great 
 struggle and application, there proceed certain im- 
 perfect births, or lame abortive works, specious in 
 appearance, but weak and unstable in use ; which 
 are, nevertheless, with great pomp and deceitful 
 appearances, triumphantly carried about, and shown 
 by impostors. A procedure very familiar, and re- 
 
DEUCALION, OR RESTITUTION. 379 
 
 markable in chemical productions, and new mechan- 
 ical inventions ; especially when the inventors rather 
 hug their errors than improve upon them, and go on 
 struggling with nature, not courting her. 
 
 XXL — DEUCALION, OR RESTITUTION". 
 
 EXPLAINED OF A USEFUL HINT IN NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 The poets tell us, that the inhabitants of the old 
 world being totally destroyed by the universal deluge, 
 excepting Deucalion and Pyrrha, these two, desiring 
 with zealous and fervent devotion to restore mankind, 
 received this oracle for answer, that "they should 
 succeed by throwing their mother's bones behind 
 them." This at first cast them into great sorrow and 
 despair, because, as all things were levelled by the 
 deluge, it was in vain to seek their mother's tomb ; 
 but at length they understood the expression of the 
 oracle to signify the stones of the earth, which is 
 esteemed the mother of all things. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable seems to reveal a 
 secret of nature, and correct an error familiar to the 
 mind ; for men's ignorance leads them to expect the 
 renovation or restoration of things from their cor- 
 ruption and remains, as the phoenix is said to be 
 restored out of its ashes ; which is a very improper 
 procedure, because such kind of materials have 
 
380 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 finished their course, and are become absolutely unfit 
 to supply the first rudiments of the same things again ; 
 whence, in cases of renovation, recourse should be 
 had to more common principles. 
 
 XXII. — NEMESIS, OR THE VICISSITUDE 
 OF THINGS. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF THE REVERSES OF FORTUNE. 
 
 Nemesis is represented as a goddess venerated by 
 all, but feared by the powerful and the fortunate. 
 She is said to be the daughter of Nox and Oceanus. 
 
 She is drawn with wings, and a crown ; a javelin 
 of ash in her right hand ; a glass containing Ethio- 
 pians in her left; and riding upon a stag. 
 
 Explanation. — The fable receives this explana- 
 tion. The word Nemesis manifestly signifies revenge, 
 or retribution ; for the office of this goddess consisted 
 in interposing, like the Roman tribunes, vnth an " I 
 forbid it," in all courses of constant and perpetual 
 felicity, so as not only to chastise haughtiness, but 
 also to repay even innocent and moderate happiness 
 with adversity ; as if it were decreed, that none of 
 human race should be admitted to the banquet of the 
 gods, but for sport. And, indeed, to read over that 
 chapter of Pliny wherein he has collected the mis- 
 eries and misfortunes of Augustus Csesar, whom, of 
 all mankind, one would judge most fortunate, — as 
 
NEMESIS. 381 
 
 he had a certain vxt of using and enjoying prosperity, 
 with a mind no way tumid, light, effeminate, confused, 
 or melancholic, — one cannot but think this a very 
 great and powerful goddess, who could bring such a 
 victim to her altar.^ 
 
 The parents of this goddess were Oceanus and 
 Nox ; that is; the fluctuating change of things, and 
 the obscure and secret divine decrees. The changes 
 of things are aptly represented by the Ocean, on 
 account of its perpetual ebbing and flowing; and 
 secret providence is justly expressed by Night. 
 Even the heathens have observed this secret Nemesis 
 of the night, or the difference betwixt divine and 
 human judgment.^ 
 
 Wings are given to Nemesis, because of the sudden 
 and unforeseen changes of things ; for, from the ear- 
 liest account of time, it has been common for great 
 and prudent men to fall by the dangers they most 
 despised. Thus Cicero, when admonished by Brutus 
 of the infidelity and rancor of Octavius, coolly wrote 
 back : " I cannot, however, but be obliged to you, 
 Brutus, as I ought, for informing me, though of such 
 a trifle." ^ 
 
 Nemesis also has her crown, by reason of the 
 invidious and malignant nature of the vulgar, who 
 
 1 As she also brought the author liiinself. 
 
 2 " cadit Eipheus, justissimus unus, 
 
 Qui fuit ex Teucris, et servantissimus sequi : 
 Diis aliter visum." — JEncid, lib. ii. 
 
 3 Te autem mi Brute sicut debeo, amo, quod istud quicquid est 
 nugarum me scire voluisti. 
 
382 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 generally rejoice, triumph, and crown her, at the fall 
 of the fortunate and the powerful. And for the 
 javelin in her right hand, it has regard to those whom 
 she has actually struck and transfixed. But whoever 
 escapes her stroke, or feels not actual calamity or mis- 
 fortune, she affrights wdth a black and dismal sight in 
 her left hand ; for doubtless, mortals on the highest 
 pinnacle of felicity have a prospect of death, diseases, 
 calamities, perfidious friends, undermining enemies, 
 reverses of fortune, &c., represented by the Ethiopians 
 in her glass. Thus Virgil, with great elegance, 
 describing the battle of Actium, says of Cleopatra, 
 that "she did not yet perceive the two asps behind 
 her ; " ^ but soon after, which way soever she turned, 
 she saw whole troops of Ethiopians still before her. 
 
 Lastly, it is significantly added, that Nemesis rides 
 upon a stag, which is a very long-lived creature ; for 
 though perhaps some, by an untimely death in youth, 
 may prevent or escape this goddess, yet they who 
 enjoy a long flow of happiness and power, doubtless 
 become subject to her at length, and are brought to 
 yield. 
 
 ^ ** Eegina iu mediis patrio vocat agmina sistro ; 
 Necdum etiam geminos a tergo rospicit angues." 
 
 JEneid, viii. 696. 
 
ACHELOUS, OR BATTLE. 383 
 
 XXIII. — ACHELOUS, OR BATTLE. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF WAR BY INVASION. 
 
 The ancients relate, that Hercules and Achelous 
 being rivals in the courtship of Deianira, the matter 
 was contested by single combat ; when Achelous hav- 
 ing transformed himself, as he had power to do, into 
 various shapes, by way of trial ; at length, in the 
 form of a fierce wild bull, prepares himself for the 
 fight ; but Hercules still retains his human shape, 
 engages sharply with him, and in the issue broke off 
 one of the bull's horns ; and now Achelous, in great 
 pain and fright, to redeem his horn, presents Hercules 
 with the cornucopia. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable relates to military 
 expeditions and preparations ; for the preparation of 
 war on the defensive side, here denoted by Achelous, 
 appears in various shapes, whilst the invading side 
 has but one simple form, consisting either in an army, 
 or perhaps a fleet. But the country that expects the 
 invasion is employed infinite ways, in fortifying towns, 
 blockading passes, rivers, and ports, raising soldiers, 
 disposing garrisons, building and breaking down 
 bridges, procuring aids, securing provisions, arms, 
 ammunition, &c. So that there appears a new face 
 of things every day ; and at length, when the coun- 
 try is sufficiently fortified and prepared, it represents 
 to the life the form and threats of a fierce fighting 
 bull. 
 
384 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 On the other side, the invader presses on to the 
 fight, fearing to be distressed in an enemy's country. 
 And if after the battle he remains master of the field, 
 and has now broke, as it Avere, the horn of his enemy, 
 the besieged, of course, retire inglorious, affrighted, 
 and dismayed, to their stronghold, there endeavoring 
 to secure themselves, and repair their strength ; leav- 
 ing, at the same time, their country a prey to the 
 conqueror, which is well expressed by the Amalthean 
 horn, or cornucopia. 
 
 XXIV.— DIONYSUS, OR BACCHUS. i 
 
 EXPLAINED OF THE PASSIONS. 
 
 The fable runs, that Semele, Jupiter's mistress, 
 having bound him by an inviolable oath to grant her 
 an unknown request, desired he would embrace her 
 in the same form and manner he used to embrace 
 Juno ; and the promise being irrevocable, she was 
 burnt to death with lightning in the performance. 
 The embryo, however, was sewed up, and carried in 
 Jupiter's thigh till the complete time of its birth ; 
 but the burden thus rendering the father lame, and 
 causing him pain, the child was thence called Dio- 
 nysus. When born, he was committed, for some 
 years, to be nursed by Proserpina ; and when grown 
 up, appeared with so effeminate a face, that his sex 
 
 1 Ovid's Metamorphoses, b. iii., iv., and vi. ; and Fasti, iii. 767. 
 
DIONYSUS, OR BACCHUS. 385 
 
 seemed somewliat doubtful. He also died, and was 
 buried for a time, but afterwards revived. When a 
 youth, he first introduced the cultivation and dressing 
 of vines, the method of preparing wine, and taught 
 the use thereof ; whence becoming famous, he subdued 
 the world, even to the utmost bounds of the Indies. 
 He rode in a chariot drawn by tigers. There danced 
 about him certain deformed demons called Cobali, 
 &c. The Muses also joined in his train. He married 
 Ariadne, who was deserted by Theseus. The ivy 
 was sacred to him. He was also held the inventor 
 and institutor of religious rites and ceremonies, but 
 such as were wild, frantic, and full of corruption and 
 cruelty. He had also the power of striking men with 
 frenzies. Pentheus and Orpheus were torn to pieces 
 by the frantic women at his orgies; the first for 
 climbing a tree to behold their outrageous ceremonies, 
 and the other for the music of his harp. But the 
 acts of this god are much entangled and confounded 
 with those of Jupiter. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable seems to contain a 
 little system of morality, so that there is scarce any 
 better invention in all ethics. Under the history of 
 Bacchus, is drawn the nature of unlawful desire or 
 aftection, and disorder ; for the appetite and thirst of 
 apparent good is the mother of all unlawful desire, 
 though ever so destructive, and all unlawful desires 
 are conceived in unlawful wishes or requests, rashly 
 indulged or granted before they are well understood 
 25 
 
386 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 or considered, and when the affection begins to grow 
 warm, the mother of it (the nature of good) is de- 
 stroyed and burnt up by the heat. And whilst an 
 unlawful desire lies in the embryo, or unripened in 
 the mind, which is its father, and here represented 
 by Jupiter, it is cherished and concealed, especially in 
 the inferior part of the mind, corresponding to the 
 thigh of the body, where pain twitches and depresses 
 the mind so far as to render its resolutions and 
 actions imperfect and lame. And even after this 
 child of the mind is confirmed, and gains strength by 
 consent and habit, and comes forth into action, it 
 must still be nursed by Proserpina for a time ; that 
 is, it skulks and hides its head in a clandestine man- 
 ner, as it were under ground, till at length, when the 
 checks of shame and fear are removed, and the requi- 
 site boldness acquired, it either assumes the pretext 
 of some virtue, or openly despises infamy. And it is 
 justly observed, that every vehement passion appears 
 of a doubtful sex, as having the strength of a man at 
 first, but at last the impotence of a woman. It is 
 also excellently added, that Bacchus died and rose 
 again ; for the affections sometimes seem to die and 
 be no more; but there is no trusting them, even 
 though they were buried, being always apt and ready 
 to rise again whenever the occasion or object offers. 
 
 That Bacchus should be the inventor of wine, 
 carries a fine allegory with it ; for every affection is 
 cunning and subtle in discovering a proper matter to 
 nourish and feed it ; and of all things known to 
 
DIONYSUS, OR BACCHUS. 387 
 
 mortals, wine is the most powerful and effectual for 
 exciting and inflaming passions of all kinds, being, 
 indeed, like a common fuel to all. 
 
 It is again, with great elegance, observed of Bac- 
 chus, that he subdued provinces, and undertook 
 endless expeditions, for the affections never rest satis- 
 fied with what they enjoy, but with an endless and 
 insatiable appetite thirst after something further. 
 And tigers are prettily feigned to draw the chariot ; 
 for as soon as any affection shall, from going on foot, 
 be advanced to ride, it triumphs over reason, and 
 exerts its cruelty, fierceness, and strength against all 
 that oppose it. 
 
 It is also humorously imagined, that ridiculous 
 demons dance and frisk about this chariot ; for every 
 passion produces indecent, disorderly, interchangeable 
 and deformed motions in the eyes, countenance, and 
 gesture, so that the person under the impulse, 
 whether of anger, insult, love, &c., though to himself 
 he may seem grand, lofty, or obliging, yet in the eyes 
 of others appears mean, contemptible, or ridiculous. 
 
 The Muses also are found in the train of Bacchus, 
 for there is scarce any passion without its art, science, 
 or doctrine to court and flatter it ; but in this respect 
 the indulgence of men of genius has greatly detracted 
 from the majesty of the Muses, who ought to be the 
 leaders and conductors of human life, and not the 
 handmaids of the passions. 
 
 The allegory of Bacchus falling in love ^vith a 
 cast mistress, is extremely noble; for it is certain 
 
388 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 that the affections always court and covet what has 
 been rejected upon experience. And all those who 
 by serving and indulging their passions immensely 
 raise the value of enjoyment, should know, that 
 whatever they covet and pursue, whether riches, 
 pleasure, glory, learning, or anything else, they only 
 pursue those things that have been forsaken and 
 cast off with contempt by great numbers in all ages, 
 after possession and experience. 
 
 Nor is it without a mystery that the ivy was sa- 
 cred to Bacchus, and this for two reasons : first, 
 because ivy is an evergreen, or flourishes in the 
 winter; and secondly, because it winds and creeps 
 about so many things, as trees, walls, and buildings, 
 and raises itself above them. As to the first, every 
 passion grows fresh, strong, and vigorous by oppo- 
 sition and prohibition, as it were by a kind of con- 
 trast or antiperistasis, like the ivy in the winter. 
 And for the second, the predominant passion of the 
 mind throws itself, like the ivy, round all human 
 actions, entwines all our resolutions, and perpetually 
 adheres to, and mixes itself among, or even over- 
 tops them. 
 
 And no wonder that superstitious rites and cere- 
 monies are attributed to Bacchus, when almost every 
 ungovernable passion grows wanton and luxuriant 
 in corrupt religions ; nor again, that fury and frenzy 
 should be sent and dealt out by him, because every 
 passion is a short frenzy, and if it be vehement, 
 lasting, and take deep root, it terminates in mad- 
 
ATALANTA AND HIPPOMENES, OR GAIN. 389 
 
 ness. And lience the allegory of Pentheus and 
 Orpheus being torn to pieces is evident ; for every 
 headstrong passion is extremely bitter, severe, in- 
 veterate, and revengeful upon all curious inquiry, 
 wholesome admonition, free counsel, and persuasion. 
 Lastly ; the confusion between the persons of Ju- 
 piter and Bacchus will justly admit of an allegory, 
 because noble and meritorious actions may some- 
 times proceed from virtue, sound reason, and mag- 
 nanimity, and sometimes again from a concealed 
 passion and secret desire of ill, however they may 
 be extolled and praised, insomuch that it is not easy 
 to distinguish betwixt the acts of Bacchus and the 
 acts of Jupiter. 
 
 XXV.— ATALANTA AND HIPPOMENES, 
 OR GAIN. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF THE CONTEST BETWIXT ART AND NATURE. 
 
 Atalanta, who was exceedingly fleet, contended 
 with Hippomenes in the course, on condition that, 
 if Hippomenes won, he should espouse her, or for- 
 feit his life if he lost. The match was very un- 
 equal, for Atalanta had conquered numbers, to their 
 destruction. Hippomenes, therefore, had recourse 
 to stratagem. He procured three golden apples, 
 and purposely carried them with him ; they started ; 
 Atalanta outstripped him soon; then Hippomenes 
 bowled one of his apples before her, across the 
 
390 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 course, in order not only to make her stoop, but to 
 draw her out of the path. She, prompted by female 
 curiosity, and the beauty of the golden fruit, starts 
 from the course to take up the apple. Hippomenes, 
 in the mean time, holds on his way, and steps before 
 her ; but she, by her natural swiftness, soon fetches 
 up her lost ground, and leaves him again behind. 
 Hippomenes, however, by rightly timing his second 
 and third throw, at length won the race, not by his 
 swiftness, but his cunning. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable seems to contain a 
 noble allegory of the contest betwixt art and nature. 
 For art, here denoted by Atalanta, is much swifter, 
 or more expeditious in its operations than nature, 
 when all obstacles and impediments are removed, 
 and sooner arrives at its end. This appears almost 
 in every instance. Thus, fruit comes slowly from 
 the kernel, but soon by inoculation or incision ; clay, 
 left to itself, is a long time in acquiring a stony 
 hardness, but is presently burnt by fire into brick. 
 So again, in human life, nature is a long while in 
 alleviating and abolishing the remembrance of pain, 
 and assuaging the troubles of the mind ; but moral 
 philosophy, which is the* art of living, performs it 
 presently. Yet this prerogative and singidar effi- 
 cacy of art is stopped and retarded to the infinite 
 detriment of human life, by certain golden apples; 
 for there is no one science or art that constantly 
 holds on its true and proper course to the end, but 
 
PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 391 
 
 they are all continually stopping short, forsaking 
 the track, and turning aside to profit and conven- 
 ience, exactly like Atalanta.^ Whence it is no won- 
 der that art gets not the victory over nature, nor, 
 according to the condition of the contest, brings her 
 under subjection; but, on the contrary, remains 
 subject to her, as a wife to a husband.^ 
 
 XXVL — PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE 
 
 OF MAN. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF AN OVERRULING PROVIDENCE, AND OF 
 HUMAN NATURE. 
 
 The ancients relate that man was the work of 
 Prometheus, and formed of clay; only the artificer 
 mixed in with the mass, particles taken from diff'er- 
 ent animals. And being desirous to improve his 
 workmanship, and endow, as well as create, the 
 human race, he stole up to heaven with a bundle 
 of birch-rods, and kindling them at the chariot of 
 
 1 "Declinat cursus, aurumque volubile tollit." 
 
 2 The author, in all his physical works, proceeds upon this 
 foundation, that it is possible, and practicable, for art to obtain 
 the victory over nature ; that is, for human industry and power to 
 procure, by the means of proper knowledge, such things as are 
 necessary to render life as happy and commodious as its mortal 
 state will allow. For instance, that it is possible to lengthen the 
 present period of human life ; bring the winds under command : 
 and every way extend and enlarge the dominion or empire of man 
 over the works of nature. 
 
392 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 the Sun, thence brought down fire to the earth for 
 the service of men. 
 
 They add that, for this meritorious act, Prome- 
 theus was repayed with ingratitude by mankind, so 
 that, forming a conspiracy, they arraigned both him 
 and his invention before Jupiter. But the matter 
 was otherwise received than they imagined; for 
 the accusation proved extremely grateful to Jupiter 
 and the gods, insomuch that, delighted with the 
 action, they not only indulged mankind the use 
 of fire, but moreover conferred upon them a most 
 acceptable and desirable present, viz : perpetual 
 youth. 
 
 But men, foolishly overjoyed hereat, laid this 
 present of the gods upon an ass, who, in returning 
 back with it, being extremely thirsty, strayed to a 
 fountain. The serpent, who was guardian thereof, 
 would not suffer him to drink, but upon condition 
 of receiving the burden he carried, whatever it 
 should be. The silly ass complied, and thus the 
 perpetual renewal of youth was, for a drop of water, 
 transferred from men to the race of serpents. 
 
 Prometheus, not desisting from his unwarrant- 
 able practices, tliough now reconciled to mankind, 
 after they were thus tricked of their present, but 
 still continuing inveterate against Jupiter, had the 
 boldness to attempt deceit, even in a sacrifice, and 
 is said to have once oifered up two bulls to Jupiter, 
 but so as in the hide of one of them to wrap all the 
 flesh and fat of both, and stuffing out the other hide 
 
PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 393 
 
 only with the bones ; then, in a religious and devout 
 manner, gave Jupiter his choice of the two. Jupiter, 
 detesting this sly fraud and hypocrisy, but having 
 thus an opportunity of punishing the offender, pur- 
 posely chose the mock bull. 
 
 And now gi^'ing way to revenge, but finding he 
 could not chastise the insolence of Prometheus 
 without afflicting the human race (in the produc- 
 tion whereof Prometheus had strangely and in- 
 sufferably prided himself), he commanded Vulcan 
 to form a beautiful and graceful woman, to whom 
 every god presented a certain gift, whence she was 
 called Pandora. 1 They put into her hands an ele- 
 gant box, containing all sorts of miseries and mis- 
 fortunes ; but Hope was placed at the bottom of 
 it. With this box she first goes to Prometheus, to 
 try if she could prevail upon him to receive and 
 open it; but he being upon his guard, warily re- 
 fused the offer. Upon this refusal, she comes to 
 his brother Epimetheus, a man of a very different 
 temper, who rashly and inconsiderately opens the 
 box. When finding all kinds of miseries and mis- 
 fortunes issued out of it, he grew wise too late, and 
 with great hurry and struggle endeavored to clap 
 the cover on again ; but Avith all his endeavor could 
 scarce keep in Hope, which lay at the bottom. 
 
 Lastly, Jupiter arraigned Prometheus of many 
 heinous crimes; as that he formerly stole fire from 
 heaven; that he contemptuously and deceitfully 
 
 1 "All -gift." 
 
394 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 mocked him bj a sacrifice of bones ; that he de- 
 spised his present/ adding withal a new crime, that 
 he attempted to ravish Pallas; for all which, he 
 was sentenced to be bound in chains, and doomed 
 to perpetual torments. Accordingly, by Jupiter's 
 command, he was brought to Mount Caucasus, and 
 there fastened to a pillar, so firmly that he could no 
 way stir. A vulture or eagle stood by him, which 
 in the daytime gnawed and consumed his liver ; but 
 in the night the wasted parts were supplied again ; 
 whence matter for his pain was never wanting. 
 
 They relate, however, that his punishment had 
 an end; for Hercules sailing the ocean, in a cup, 
 or pitcher, presented him by the Sun, came at length 
 to Caucasus, shot the eagle with his arrows, and set 
 Prometheus free. In certain nations, also, there 
 were instituted particular games of the torch, to the 
 honor of Prometheus, in which they who ran for 
 the prize carried lighted torches ; and as any one 
 of these torches happened to go out, the bearer 
 withdrew himself, and gave way to the next ; and 
 that person was allowed to win the prize, who first 
 brought in his lighted torch to the goal. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable contains and enforces 
 many just and serious considerations ; some whereof 
 have been long since well observed, but some again 
 remain perfectly untouched. Prometheus clearly and 
 expressly signifies Providence; for of all the things 
 
 1 Viz : that by Pandora. 
 
PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 395 
 
 in nature, the formation and endowment of man was 
 singled out by the ancients, and esteemed the pe- 
 culiar work of Providence. The reason hereof 
 seems, 1. That the nature of man includes a mind 
 and understanding, which is the seat of Providence. 
 2. That it is harsh and incredible to suppose reason 
 and mind should be raised, and drawn out of sense- 
 less and irrational principles ; whence it becomes 
 almost inevitable, that providence is implanted in 
 the human mind in conformity with, and by the 
 direction and the design of the greater overruling 
 Providence. But, 3. The principal cause is this : 
 that man seems to be the thing in which the whole 
 world centres, with respect to final causes ; so that 
 if he were away, all other things would stray and 
 fluctuate, without end or intention, or become per- 
 fectly disjointed, and out of frame; for all things 
 are made subservient to man, and he receives use 
 and benefit from them all. Thus the revolutions, 
 places, and periods, of the celestial bodies, serve 
 him for distinguishing times and seasons, and for 
 dividing the world into different regions; the me- 
 teors afford him prognostications of the weather; 
 the winds sail our ships, drive our mills, and move 
 our machines ; and the vegetables and animals of 
 all kinds either afford us matter for houses and 
 habitations, clothing, food, physic ; or tend to 
 ease, or delight, to support, or refresh us so that 
 everything in nature seems not made for itself, but 
 for man. 
 
396 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 And it is not without reason added, that the mass 
 of matter whereof man was formed, should be mixed 
 up with particles taken from different animals, and 
 wrought in with the clay, because it is certain, that of 
 all things in the universe, man is the most com- 
 pounded and recompounded body ; so that the 
 ancients, not improperly, styled him a Microcosm, or 
 little world within himself. For although the chem- 
 ists have absurdly, and too literally, wrested and 
 perverted the elegance of the term microcosm, w^hilst 
 they pretend to find all kind of mineral and vegetable 
 matters, or something corresponding to them, in man, 
 yet it remains firm and unshaken, that the human 
 body is, of all substances, the most mixed and or- 
 ganical ; whence it has surprising powers and faculties; 
 for the powers of simple bodies are but few, though 
 certain and quick ; as being little broken, or weak- 
 ened, and not counterbalanced by mixture ; but ex- 
 cellence and quantity of energy reside in mixture and 
 composition. 
 
 Man, however, in his first origin, seems to be a 
 defenceless, naked creature, slow in assisting him- 
 self, and standing in need of numerous things. 
 Prometheus, therefore, hastened to the invention of 
 fire, which supplies and administers to nearly all 
 human uses and necessities, insomuch that, if the soul 
 may be called the form of forms, if the hand may be 
 called the instrument of instruments, fire may, as 
 properly, be called the assistant of assistants, or the 
 helper of helps ; for hence proceed numberless opera- 
 
I 
 
 PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 397 
 
 tions, hence all the meclianic arts, and hence infinite 
 assistances are atForded to the sciences themselves. 
 
 The manner wherein Prometheus stole this fire is 
 properly described from the nature of the thing ; he 
 being said to have done it by applying a rod of birch 
 to the chariot of the Sun ; for birch is used in strik- 
 ing and beating, which clearly denotes the generation 
 of fire to be from the violent percussions and col- 
 lisions of bodies; whereby the matters struck arc 
 subtilized, rarefied, put into motion, and so prei:)ared 
 to receive the heat of the celestial bodies ; whence 
 they, in a clandestine and secret manner, collect and 
 snatch fire, as it wxre by stealth, from the chariot of 
 the Sun. 
 
 The next is a remarkable part of the fable, which 
 represents that men, instead of gratitude and thanks, 
 fell into indignation and expostulation, accusing both 
 Prometheus and his fire to Jupiter, — and yet the 
 accusation proved highly pleasing to Jupiter ; so that 
 he, for this reason, crowned these benefits of man- 
 kind with a new bounty. Here it may seem strange 
 that the sin of ingratitude to a creator and benefactor, 
 a sin so heinous as to include almost all others, should 
 meet with approbation and reward. But the allegory 
 has another view, and denotes, that the accusation 
 and arraignment, both of human nature and human 
 art among mankind, proceeds from a most noble and 
 laudable temper of the mind, and tends to a very 
 good purpose ; whereas the contrary temper is odious 
 to the gods, and unbeneficial in itself. For they who 
 
398 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 break into extravagant praises of human nature, and 
 the arts in vogue, and who lay themselves out in 
 admiring the things they already possess, and will 
 needs have the sciences cultivated among them, to be 
 thought absolutely perfect and complete, in the first 
 place, show little regard to the divine nature, whilst 
 they extol their own inventions almost as high as his 
 perfection. In the next place, men of this temper 
 are unserviceable and prejudicial in life, whilst they 
 imagine themselves already got to the top of things, 
 and there rest, without further inquiry. On the con- 
 trary, they who arraign and accuse both nature and 
 art, and are always full of compaints against them, 
 not only preserve a more just and modest sense of 
 mind, but are also perpetually stirred up to fresh 
 industry and new discoveries. Is not, then, the 
 ignorance and fatality of mankind to be extremely 
 pitied, whilst they remain slaves to the arrogance of 
 a few of their own fellows, and are dotingly fond of 
 that scrap of Grecian knowledge, the Peripatetic 
 philosophy ; and this to such a degree, as not only to 
 think all accusation or arraignment thereof useless, but 
 even hold it suspect and dangerous ? Certainly the 
 procedure of Empedocles, though furious — but es- 
 pecially that of Democritus (who with great modesty 
 complained that all things were abstruse ; that we 
 know nothing ; that truth lies hid in deep pits ; that 
 falsehood is strangely joined and twisted along with 
 truth, &c.) — is to be preferred before the confident, 
 assuming, and dogmatical school of Aristotle. Man- 
 
PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 399 
 
 kind are, therefore, to be admonished, that the arraign- 
 ment of nature and of art is pleasing to the gods ; 
 and that a sharp and vehement accusation of Pro- 
 metheus, though a creator, a founder, and a master, 
 obtained new blessings and presents from the divine 
 bounty, and proved more sound and serviceable than 
 a diffusive harangue of praise and gratulation. And 
 let men be assured that the fond opinion that they 
 have already acquired enough, is a principal reason 
 why they have acquired so little. 
 
 That the perpetual flower of youth should be the 
 present wliich mankind received as a reward for their 
 accusation, carries this moral ; that the ancients seem 
 not to have despaired of discovering methods, and 
 remedies, for retarding old age, and prolonging the 
 period of human life ; but rather reckoned it among 
 those things which, through sloth and want of diligent 
 inquiry, perish and come to nothing, after having 
 been once undertaken, than among such as are ab- 
 solutely impossible, or placed beyond the reach of 
 the human power. For they signify and intimate 
 from the true use of fire, and the just and strenuous 
 accusation and conviction of the errors of art, that 
 the divine bounty is not wanting to men in such kind 
 of presents, but that men indeed are wanting to 
 themselves, and lay such an inestimable gift upon the 
 back of a slow-paced ass ; that is, upon the back of 
 the heavy, dull, lingering thing, experience; from 
 whose sluggish and tortoise-pace proceeds that ancient 
 complaint of the shortness of life, and the slow 
 
400 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 advancement of arts. And certainly it may well seem, 
 that the two faculties of reasoning and experience 
 are not hitherto properly joined and coupled together, 
 but to be still new gifts of the gods, separately laid, 
 the one upon the back of a light bird, or abstract 
 philosophy, and the other upon an ass, or slow-paced 
 practice and trial. And yet good hopes might be 
 conceived of this ass, if it were not for his thirst and 
 the accidents of the way. For we judge, that if any 
 one would constantly proceed, by a certain law and 
 method, in the road of experience, and not by the 
 way thirst after such experiments as make for profit 
 or ostentation, nor exchange his burden, or quit the 
 original design for the sake of these, he might be an 
 useful bearer of a new and accumulated divine bounty 
 to mankind. 
 
 That this gift of perpetual youth should pass from 
 men to serpents, seems added by way of ornament, and 
 illustration to the fable ; perhaps intimating, at the 
 same time, the shame it is for men, that they, with 
 their fire, and numerous arts, cannot procure to them- 
 selves those things which nature has bestowed upon 
 many other creatures. 
 
 The sudden reconciliation of Prometheus to man- 
 kind, after being disappointed of their hopes, contains 
 a prudent and useful admonition. It points out the 
 levity and temerity of men in new experiments, when, 
 not presently succeeding, or answering to expectation, 
 they precipitantly quit their new undertakings, hurry 
 back to their old ones, and grow reconciled thereto. 
 
PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 401 
 
 After the fable has described the state of man, 
 with regard to arts and intellectual matters, it passes 
 on to religion; for after the inventing and settling 
 of arts, follows the establishment of divine worship, 
 which hypocrisy presently enters into and corrupts. 
 So that by the two sacrifices we have elegantly 
 painted the person of a man truly religious, and of an 
 hypocrite. One of these sacrifices contained the fat, 
 or the portion of God, used for burning and incensing ; 
 thereby denoting affection and zeal, offered up to his 
 glory. It likewise contained the bowels, which are 
 expressive of charity, along with the good and useful 
 flesh. But the other contained nothing more than 
 dry bones, which nevertheless stuffed out the hide, so 
 as to make it resemble a fair, beautiful, and magnifi- 
 cent sacrifice ; hereby finely denoting the external 
 and empty rites and barren ceremonies, wherewith 
 men burden and stuff out the di^^ne worship, — things 
 rather intended for show and ostentation than con- 
 ducing to piety. Nor are mankind simply content 
 with this mock-worship of God, but also impose and 
 further it upon him, as if he had chosen and ordained 
 it. Certainly the prophet, in the person of God, has 
 a fine expostulation, as to this matter of choice : " Is 
 this the fasting which I have chosen, that a man 
 should afflict his soul for a day, and bow down his 
 head like a bulrush ? " 
 
 After thus touching the state of religion, the fable 
 next turns to manners, and the conditions of human 
 life. And though it be a very common, yet is it a 
 
 26 
 
402 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 just interpretation, that Pandora denotes the pleas- 
 ures and licentiousness which the cultivation and 
 luxury of the arts of civil life introduce, as it were, 
 by the instrumental efficacy of fire ; whence the works 
 of the voluptuary arts are properly attributed to Vul- 
 can, the God of Fire. And hence infinite miseries 
 and calamities have proceeded to the minds, the 
 bodies, and the fortunes of men, together with a late 
 repentance ; and this not in each man's particular, but 
 also in kingdoms and states ; for wars, and tumults, 
 and tyrannies, have all arisen from this same fountain, 
 or box of Pandora. 
 
 It is worth observing, how beautifully and elegantly 
 the fable has drawn two reigning characters in hu- 
 man life, and given two examples, or tablatures of 
 them, under the persons of Prometheus and Epime- 
 theus. The followers of Epimetheus are improvident, 
 see not far before them, and prefer such things as 
 are agreeable for the present; whence they are op- 
 pressed with numerous straits, difficulties, and calam- 
 ities, with which they almost continually struggle ; 
 but in the mean time gratify their own temper, and, 
 for want of a better knowledge of things, feed their 
 minds with many vain hopes ; and as with so many 
 pleasing dreams, delight themselves, and sweeten 
 the miseries of life. 
 
 But the followers of Prometheus are the prudent, 
 wary men, that look into futurity, and cautiously 
 guard against, prevent, and undermine many calami- 
 ties and misfortunes. But this watchful, provident 
 
PROMETHEUS, ORTHE STATE OF MAN. 403 
 
 temper, is attended wdth a deprivation of numerous 
 pleasures, and the loss of various delights, whilst 
 such men debar themselves the use even of innocent 
 things, and what is still worse, rack and torture 
 themselves with cares, fears, and disquiets ; being 
 bound fast to the pillar of necessity, and tormented 
 with numberless thoughts (which for their swiftness 
 are well compared to an eagle), that continually 
 wound, tear, and gnaw their liver or mind, unless, 
 perhaps, tliey find some small remission by intervals, 
 or as it were at nights ; but then new anxieties, 
 dreads, and fears, soon return again, as it were in 
 the morning. And, therefore, very few men, of 
 either temper, have secured to themselves the ad- 
 vantages of providence, and kept clear of disquiets, 
 troubles, and misfortunes. 
 
 Nor indeed can any man obtain this end without 
 the assistance of Hercules ; that is, of such fortitude 
 and constancy of mind as stands prepared against 
 every event, and remains indifferent to every change ; 
 looking forward without being daunted, enjoying the 
 good without disdain, and enduring the bad without 
 impatience. And it must be observed, that even 
 Prometheus had not the power to free himself, but 
 owxd his deliverance to another ; for no natural in- 
 bred force and fortitude could prove equal to such a 
 task. The power of releasing him came from the 
 utmost confines of the ocean, and from the sun; 
 that is, from Apollo, or knowledge ; and again, from 
 a due consideration of the uncertainty, instability, 
 
404 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 and fluctuating state of human life, which is aptly 
 represented by sailing the ocean. Accordingly, 
 Virgil has prudently joined these two together, ac- 
 counting him happy who knows the causes of things, 
 and has conquered all his fears, apprehensions, and 
 superstitions.^ 
 
 It is added, with great elegance, for supporting 
 and confirming the human mind, that the great hero 
 who thus delivered him sailed the ocean in a cup, 
 or pitcher, to prevent fear, or complaint; as if, 
 through the narrowness of our nature, or a too great 
 fragility thereof, we were absolutely incapable of 
 that fortitude and constancy to which Seneca finely 
 alludes, when he says : " It is a noble thing, at once 
 to participate in the frailty of man and the security 
 of a god." 
 
 We have hitherto, that we might not break the 
 connection of things, designedly omitted the last 
 crime of Prometheus — that of attempting the chas- 
 tity of Minerva — which heinous offence it doubtless 
 was, that caused the punishment of having his liver 
 gnawed by the vulture. The meaning seems to be 
 this, — that when men are pufl'ed up with arts 
 and knowledge, they often try to subdue even the 
 divine wisdom and bring it under the dominion of 
 sense and reason, whence inevitably follows a per- 
 
 1 " Felix qui potuit rerum cognoscere causas, 
 Quique metus omnes et inexorabile fatum 
 Subjecit pedibus, strepitumque Acherontis avari." 
 
 Georg. ii. 490. 
 
PROMETHEUS, OR THE STATE OF MAN. 405 
 
 petual and restless rending and tearing of the mind. 
 A sober and humble distinction must, therefore, be 
 made betwixt divine and human things, and betwixt 
 the oracles of sense and faith, unless mankind had 
 rather choose an heretical religion, and a fictitious 
 and romantic philosophy.^ 
 
 The last particular in the fable is the Games of 
 the Torch, instituted to Prometheus, which again 
 relates to arts and sciences, as well as the inven- 
 tion of fire, for the commemoration and celebration 
 whereof these games were held. And here we have 
 an extremely prudent admonition, directing us to ex- 
 pect the perfectien of the sciences from succession, 
 and not from the swiftness and abilities of any single 
 person; for he who is fleetest and strongest in the 
 course may perhaps be less fit to keep his torch 
 alight, since there is danger of its going out from too 
 rapid as well as from too slow a motion.^ But this 
 kind of contest, with the torch, seems to have been 
 long dropped and neglected ; the sciences appearing 
 to have flourished principally in their first authors, 
 as Aristotle, Galen, Euclid, Ptolemy, &c. ; whilst 
 
 ^ De Augmentis Scientiarum, sec. xxviii. and supplem. xv. 
 
 2 An allusion which, in Plato's writings, is applied to the rapid 
 succession of generations, through which the continuity of human 
 life is maintained from age to age ; and which are perpetually- 
 transferring from hand to hand the concerns and duties of this 
 fleeting scene. Vevv(bvT€S re koI €KTp^<povTe^ iraiSai, Kd&awep XafiirdSa 
 Tov piov irapadiooi'Tes aXXots e^ dXXuv — Plato, Leg. b. vi. Lucre- 
 tius also has the same metaphor : — 
 
 "Et quasi cursores vital lampada tradunt." 
 
406 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 their successors have done very little, or scarce made 
 any attempts. But it were highly to be wished 
 that these games might be renewed, to the honor 
 of Prometheus, or human nature, and that they 
 might excite contest, emulation, and laudable en- 
 deavors, and the design meet with such success as 
 not to hang tottering, tremulous, and hazarded, upon 
 the torch of any single person. INIankind, therefore, 
 should be admonished to rouse themselves, and try 
 and exert their own strength and chance, and not 
 place all their dependence upon a few men, whose 
 abilities and capacities, perhaps, are not greater than 
 their own. 
 
 These are the particulars which appear to us 
 shadowed out by this trite and vulgar fable, though 
 without denying that there may be contained in it 
 several intimations that have a surprising corre- 
 spondence with the Christian mysteries. In partic- 
 ular, the voyage of Hercules, made in a pitcher, to 
 release Prometheus, bears an allusion to the word 
 of God, coming in the frail vessel of the flesh to 
 redeem mankind. But we indulge ourselves no such 
 liberties as these, for fear of using strange fire at 
 the altar of the Lord. 
 
ICARUS, Oil THE MIDDLE WAY. 407 
 
 XXVIL — ICARUS AND SCYLLA AND CHA- 
 RYBDIS, OR THE MIDDLE WAY. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF MEDIOCRITY IN NATURAL AND MORAL 
 PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 Mediocrity, or the holding a middle course, has 
 been highly extolled in morality, but little in matters 
 of science, though no less useful and proper here ; 
 whilst in politics it is held suspected, and ought to 
 be employed with judgment. The ancients described 
 mediocrity in manners by the course prescribed to 
 Icarus ; and in matters of the understanding by the 
 steering betwixt Scylla and Charybdis, on account 
 of the great difficulty and danger in passing those 
 straits. 
 
 Icarus, being to fly across the sea, was ordered 
 by his father neither to soar too high nor fly too low, 
 for, as his wings were fastened together with wax, 
 there was danger of its melting by the sun's heat in 
 too high a flight, and of its becoming less tenacious 
 by the moisture if he kept too near the vapor of 
 the sea. But he, with a juvenile confidence, soared 
 aloft, and fell down headlong. 
 
 Explanation. — The fable is vulgar, and easily 
 interpreted ; for the path of virtue lies straight be- 
 tween excess on the one side, and defect on the 
 other. And no wonder that excess should prove 
 
408 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 the bane of Icarus, exulting in juvenile strength and 
 vigor; for excess is the natural vice of youth, as 
 defect is that of old age ; and if a man must perish 
 by either, Icarus chose the better of the two; for 
 all defects are justly esteemed more depraved than 
 excesses. There is some magnanimity in excess, 
 that, like a bird, claims kindred with the heavens ; 
 but defect is a reptile, that basely crawls upon the 
 earth. It was excellently said by Heraclitus : " A 
 dry light makes the best soul ; " for if the soul con- 
 tracts moisture from the earth, it perfectly degener- 
 ates and sinks. On the other hand, moderation 
 must be observed, to prevent this fine light from 
 burning, by its too great subtility and dryness. But 
 these observations are common. 
 
 In matters of the understanding, it requires great 
 skill and a particular felicity to steer clear of Scylla 
 and Charybdis. If the ship strikes upon Scylla, it 
 is dashed in pieces against the rocks ; if upon 
 Charybdis, it is swallowed outright. This allegory 
 is pregnant with matter ; but we shall only observe 
 the force of it lies here, that a mean be observed in 
 every doctrine and science, and in the rules and 
 axioms thereof, between the rocks of distinctions 
 and the whirlpools of universalities : for these two 
 are the bane and shipwreck of fine geniuses and arts. 
 
SPHINX, OR SCIENCE. 409 
 
 XXVIIL — SPHINX, OR SCIENCE. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF THE SCIENCES. 
 
 They relate that Sphinx was a monster, vari- 
 ously formed, having the face and voice of a virgin, 
 the wings of a bird, and the talons of a griffin. She 
 resided on the top of a mountain, near the city 
 Thebes, and also beset the highways. Her manner 
 was to lie in ambush and seize the travellers, and 
 having them in her power, to propose to them cer- 
 tain dark and perplexed riddles, which it was thought 
 she received from the ]Muses, and if her wretched 
 captives could not solve and interpret these riddles, 
 she, with great cruelty, fell upon them, in their hesi- 
 tation and confusion, and tore them to pieces. This 
 IDlague having reigned a long time, the Thebans at 
 length offered their kingdom to the man who could 
 interpret her riddles, there being no other way to 
 subdue her. CEdipus, a penetrating and prudent 
 man, though lame in his feet, excited by so great a 
 reward, accepted the condition, and with a good as- 
 surance of mind, cheerfully presented himself before 
 the monster, who directly asked him : '' What crea- 
 ture that was, which, being born four-footed, after- 
 wards became two-footed, then three-footed, and lastly 
 four-footed again ? " (Edipus, with presence of mind, 
 replied it was man, who, upon his first birth and in- 
 fant state, crawled upon all fours in endeavoring to 
 
410 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 walk ; but not long after went upright upon his two 
 natural feet ; again, in old age walked three-footed, 
 with a stick ; and at last, growing decrepit, lay four- 
 footed confined to his bed ; and having by this exact 
 solution obtained the victory, he slew the monster, 
 and, laying the carcass upon an ass, led her away in 
 triumph ; and upon this he was, according to the 
 agreement, made king of Thebes, 
 
 Explanation. — This is an elegant, instructive 
 fable, and seems invented to represent science, espe- 
 cially as joined with practice. For science may, with- 
 out absurdity, be called a monster, being strangely 
 gazed at and admired by the ignorant and unskilful. 
 Her figure and form is various, by reason of the vast 
 variety of subjects that science considers ; her voice 
 and countenance are represented female, by reason of 
 her gay appearance and volubility of speech ; wings 
 are added, because the sciences and their inventions 
 run and fly about in a moment, for knowledge like light 
 communicated from one torch to another, is presently 
 caught and copiously diffused; sharp and hooked talons 
 are elegantly attributed to her, because the axioms 
 and arguments of science enter the mind, lay hold of it, 
 fix it down, and keep it from moving or slipping away. 
 This the sacred philosopher observed, when he said : 
 " The words of the wise are like goads or nails driven 
 far in." ^ Again, all science seems placed on high, as 
 it were on the tops of mountains that are hard to 
 
 1 Eccles. xii. 11. 
 
SPHINX, OK SCIENCE. 411 
 
 climb ; for science is justly imagined a sublime and 
 lofty thing, looking down upon ignorance from an 
 eminence, and at the same time taking an extensive 
 view on all sides, as is usual on the tops of mountains. 
 Science is said to beset the highways, because through 
 all the journey and peregrination of human life there 
 is matter and occasion offered of contemplation. 
 
 Sphinx is said to propose various difficult questions 
 and riddles to men, which she received from the 
 Muses ; and these questions, so long as they remain 
 with the Muses, may very well be unaccompanied 
 with severity, for while there is no other end of con- 
 templation and inquiry but that of knowledge alone, 
 the understanding is not oppressed, or driven to straits 
 and difficulties, but expatiates and ranges at large, 
 and even receives a degree of pleasure from doubt and 
 variety; but after the Muses have given over their 
 riddles to Sphinx, that is, to practice, which urges 
 and impels to action, choice, and determination, then 
 it is that they become torturing, severe, and trying, 
 and, unless solved and interpreted, strangely perplex 
 and harass the human mind, rend it every way, and 
 perfectly tear it to pieces. All the riddles of Sphinx, 
 therefore, have two conditions annexed, viz : dilacera- 
 tion to those who do not solve them, and empire to 
 those that do. For he who understands the thing 
 proposed, obtains his end, and every artificer rules 
 over his work. ^ 
 
 1 This is what the author so frequently inculcates in the Novum 
 Organum, viz : that knowledge and power are reciprocal ; so that 
 
412 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 Sphinx has no more than two kmds of riddles, one 
 relating to the nature of things, the other to the na- 
 ture of man ; and correspondent to these, the prizes 
 of the solution are two kinds of empire, — the empire 
 over nature, and the empire over man. For the true and 
 ultimate end of natural philosophy is dominion over 
 natural things, natural bodies, remedies, macliines, 
 and numberless other particulars, though the schools, 
 contented with what spontaneously offers, and swollen 
 with their own discourses, neglect, and in a manner 
 despise, both things and works. 
 
 But the riddle proposed to (Edipus, the solution 
 whereof acquired him the Theban kingdom, regarded 
 the nature of man ; for he who has thoroughly looked 
 into and examined human nature, may in a manner 
 command his own fortune, and seems born to acquire 
 dominion and rule. Accordingly, Virgil properly 
 makes the arts of government to be the arts of the 
 Romans. ^ It was, therefore, extremely apposite in 
 Augustus Caesar to use the image of Sphinx in his 
 signet, whether this happened by accident or by 
 design ; for he of all men was deeply versed in pol- 
 itics, and through the course of his life very happily 
 solved abundance of new riddles with regard to the 
 nature of man ; and unless he had done this with 
 great dexterity and ready address, he would frequently 
 
 to improve in knowledge is to improve in the power of commanding 
 nature, by introducing new arts, and producing works and effects. 
 1 " Tu regere imperio populos, Romane, memento : 
 Hffi tibi erunt artes." 
 
 JEneid, vi. 851. 
 
PROSERPINE, OR SPIRIT. 413 
 
 have been involved in imminent danger, if not 
 destruction. 
 
 It is with the utmost elegance added in the fable, 
 that when Sphinx was conquered, her carcass was 
 laid upon an ass ; for there is nothing so subtile and 
 abstruse, but after being once made plain, intelligible, 
 and common, it may be received by the slowest 
 capacity. 
 
 We must not omit that Sphinx was conquered by 
 a lame man, and impotent in his feet; for men 
 usually make too much haste to the solution of 
 Sphinx's riddles ; whence it happens, that she pre- 
 vailing, their minds are rather racked and torn by 
 disputes, than invested with command by works and 
 effects. 
 
 XXIX. — PROSERPINE, OR SPIRIT. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF THE SPIRIT INCLUDED IN NATURAL BODIES. 
 
 They tell us, Pluto having, upon that memorable 
 division of empire among the gods, received the in- 
 fernal regions for his share, despaired of winning any 
 one of the goddesses in marriage by an obsequious 
 courtship, and therefore through necessity resolved 
 upon a rape. Having watched his opportunity, he 
 suddenly seized upon Proserpine, a most beautiful 
 virgin, the daughter of Ceres, as she was gathering 
 narcissus flowers in the meads of Sicily, and hurrying 
 
414 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 her to his chariot, carried her with him to the sub- 
 terraueal regions, where she was treated with the 
 highest reverence, and styled the Lady of Dis. But 
 Ceres, missing her only daughter, whom she extremely 
 loved, grew pensive and anxious beyond measure, and 
 takinor a li":hted torch in her hand, wandered the 
 world over in quest of her daughter, — but all to no 
 purpose, till, suspecting she might be carried to the 
 infernal regions, she, with great lamentation and 
 abundance of tears, importuned Jupiter to restore her ; 
 and with much ado prevailed so far as to recover and 
 bring her away, if she had tasted nothing there. This 
 proved a hard condition upon the mother, for Proser- 
 pine was found to have eaten three kernels of a 
 pomegranate. Ceres, however, desisted not, but fell 
 to her entreaties and lamentations afresh, insomuch 
 that at last it was indulged her that Proserpine should 
 divide the year betwixt her husband and her mother, 
 and live six months with the one and as many with 
 the other. After this, ITheseus and Perithous, with 
 uncommon audacity, attempted to force Proserpine 
 away from Pluto's bed, but happening to grow tired 
 in their journey, and resting themselves upon a stone 
 in the realms below, they could never rise from it 
 again, but remain sitting there forever. Proserpine, 
 therefore, still continued queen of the lower regions, 
 in honor of whom there was also added this grand 
 privilege, that though it had never been permitted any 
 one to return after having once descended thither, a 
 particular exception was made, that he who brought a 
 
PKOSERPINE, OR SPIRIT. 415 
 
 golden bough as a present to Proserpine, might on 
 that condition descend and return. This was an only 
 bough that grew in a large dark grove, not from a 
 tree of its own, but like the mistletoe from another, 
 and when plucked away a fresh one always shot out 
 in its stead. 
 
 ExPLAXATiox. — This fable seems to regard nat- 
 ural philosophy, and searches deep into that rich and 
 fruitful virtue and supply in subterraneous bodies, 
 from whence all the things upon the earth's surface 
 spring, and into which they again relapse and return. 
 By Proserpine, the ancients denoted that ethereal 
 spirit shut up and detained within the earth, here 
 represented by Pluto, — the spirit being separated 
 from the superior globe, according to the expression 
 of the poet. ^ This spirit is conceived as ravished, or 
 snatched up by the earth, because it can in no way 
 be detained, when it has time and opportunity to fly 
 off, but is only wrought together and fixed by sudden 
 intermixture and connninution, in the same manner as 
 if one should endeavor to mix air with water, which 
 cannot otherwise be done than by a quick and rapid 
 agitation, that joins them together in froth whilst the 
 air is thus caught up by the water. And it is ele- 
 gantly added, that Proserpine was ravished whilst she 
 gathered narcissus flowers, which have their name 
 from numbedness or stupefaction ; for the spirit we 
 
 1 ** Sive recens telliis, seJuctaque nuper ab alta 
 
 ^there, cognati retinebat semina coeli." — Metavi. i. 80. 
 
416 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 speak of is in the fittest disposition to be embraced by 
 terrestrial matter when it begins to coagulate, or grow 
 torpid as it w^ere. 
 
 It is an honor justly attributed to Proserpine, and 
 not to any other wife of the gods, that of being the 
 lady or mistress of her husband, because this spirit 
 performs all its operations in the subterraneal regions, 
 whilst Pluto, or the earth, remains stupid, or as it 
 were ignorant of them. 
 
 The ether, or the efficacy of the heavenly bodies, 
 denoted by Ceres, endeavors with infinite diligence to 
 force out this spirit, and restore it to its pristine state. 
 And by the torch in the hand of Ceres, or the ether, 
 is doubtless meant the sun, which disperses light over 
 the whole globe of the earth, and if the thing were 
 possible, must have the greatest share in recovering 
 Proserpine, or reinstating the subterraneal spirit. 
 Yet Proserpine still continues and dwells below, after 
 the manner excellently described in the condition be- 
 twixt Jupiter and Ceres. For first, it is certain that 
 there are two ways of detaining the spirit, in solid and 
 terrestrial matter, — the one by condensation or ob- 
 struction, which is mere \iolence and imprisonment; 
 the other by administering a proper aliment, which is 
 spontaneous and free. For after the included spirit 
 begins to feed and nourish itself, it is not in a hurry 
 to fly off, but remains as it were fixed in its own 
 earth. And this is the moral of Proserpine's tasting 
 the pomegranate ; and were it not for this, she must 
 long ago have been carried up by Ceres, who with 
 
PROSERPINE, OR SPIRIT. 417 
 
 her torch wandered the world over, and so the earth 
 have been left without its spirit. For though the 
 spirit in metals and minerals may perhaps be, after a 
 particular manner, wrought in by the solidity of the 
 mass, yet the spirit of vegetables and animals has 
 open passages to escape at, unless it be willingly 
 detained, in the way of sipping and tasting them. 
 
 The second article of agreement, that of Proser- 
 pine's remaining six months with her mother and 
 six with her husband, is an elegant description of 
 the division of the year ; for the spirit diffused 
 through the earth lives above-ground in the vege- 
 table world during the summer months, but in the 
 winter returns under ground again. 
 
 The attempt of Theseus and Perithous to bring 
 Proserpine away, denotes that the more subtile 
 spirits, which descend in many bodies to the earth, 
 may frequently be unable to drink in, unite with 
 themselves, and carry off the subterraneous spirit, 
 but on the contrary be coagulated by it, and rise 
 no more, so as to increase the inhabitants and add 
 to the dominion of Proserpine.^ 
 
 The alchemists will be apt to fall in with our in- 
 terpretation of the golden bough, whether we will 
 or no, because they promise golden mountains, and 
 
 ^ Many philosophers have certain speculations to this piirpose. 
 Sir Isaac Newton, in particular, suspects that the earth receives 
 its vivifying spirit from the comets. And the philosophical 
 chemists, and astrologers have spun the thought into many fan- 
 tastical distinctions and varieties. — See Newton, Princip. lib. iii. 
 
 p. 473, &c. 
 
 27 
 
418 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 the restoration of natural bodies from their stone, 
 as from the gates of Pluto ; but we are well as- 
 sured that their theory had no just foundation, and 
 suspect they have no very encouraging or practical 
 proofs of its soundness. Leaving, therefore, their 
 conceits to themselves, we shall freely declare our 
 own sentiments upon this last part of the fable. 
 We are certain, from numerous figures and expres- 
 sions of the ancients, that they judged the conserva- 
 tion, and in some degree the renovation, of natural 
 bodies to be no desperate or impossible thing, but 
 rather abstruse and out of the common road than 
 wholly impracticable. And this seems to be their 
 opinion in the present case, as they have placed 
 this bough among an infinite number of shrubs, in 
 a spacious and thick wood. They supposed it of 
 gold, because gold is the emblem of duration. They 
 feigned it adventitious, not native, because such an 
 effect is to be expected from art, and not from any 
 medicine or any simple or mere natural way of 
 working. 
 
METIS, OR COUNSEL. 419 
 
 XXX. — METIS, OR COUNSEL. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF PRINCES AND THEIR COUNCIL. 
 
 The ancient poets relate that Jupiter took Metis 
 to wife, whose name plainly denotes counsel, and 
 that he, perceiving she was pregnant by him, would 
 by no means wait the time of her delivery, but di- 
 rectly devoured her; whence himself also became 
 pregnant, and was delivered in a wonderful manner ; 
 for he from his head or brain brought forth Pallas 
 armed. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable, which in its literal 
 sense appears monstrously absurd, seems to con- 
 tain a state secret, and shows with what art kings 
 usually carry themselves towards their council, in 
 order to preserve their o\\ti authority and majesty 
 not only inviolate, but so as to have it magnified 
 and heightened among the people. For kings 
 commonly link themselves, as it were, in a nuptial 
 bond to their council, and deliberate and communi- 
 cate with them after a prudent and laudable custom 
 upon matters of the greatest importance, at the 
 same time justly conceiving this no diminution of 
 their majesty ; but when the matter once ripens to 
 a decree or order, which is a kind of birth, the 
 king then suffers the council to go on no further, 
 
420 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 lest the act should seem to depend upon their pleas- 
 ure. Now, therefore, the king usually assumes to 
 himself whatever was wrought, elaborated, or formed, 
 as it were, in the womb of the council (unless it be 
 a matter of an invidious nature, which he is sure 
 to put from him), so that the decree and the execu- 
 tion shall seem to flow from himself.^ And as this de- 
 cree or execution proceeds with prudence and power, 
 so as to imply necessity, it is elegantly wrapped 
 up under the figure of Pallas armed. 
 
 Nor are kings content to have this seem the effect 
 of their own authority, free will, and uncontrollable 
 choice, unless they also take the whole honor to 
 themselves, and make the people imagine that all 
 good and wholesome decrees proceed entirely from 
 their own head, that is, their own sole prudence and 
 judgment. 
 
 XXXI. — THE SIRENS, OR PLEASURES. 
 
 EXPLAINED OF MEN's PASSION FOR PLEASURES. 
 
 Introduction. — The fable of the Sirens is, in 
 a vulgar sense, justly enough explained of the 
 pernicious incentives to pleasure ; but the .ancient 
 
 1 This policy strikingly characterized the conduct of Louis XIV., 
 who placed his generals under a particular injunction, to advertise 
 him of the success of any siege likely to be crowned with an im- 
 mediate triumph, that he might attend in person and appear to 
 take the town by a coup de main. 
 
THE SIRENS, OE PLEASURES. 421 
 
 mythology seems to us like a vintage ill-pressed and 
 trod ; for though something has been drawn from it, 
 yet all the more excellent parts remain behind in the 
 grapes that are untouched. 
 
 Fable. — The Sirens are said to be the daughters 
 of Achelous and Terpsichore, one of the Muses. In 
 their early days they had wings, but lost them upon 
 being conquered by the Muses, with whom they 
 rashly contended; and with the feathers of these 
 wings the Muses made themselves crowns, so that 
 from this time the Muses wore wings on their heads, 
 except only the mother to the Sirens. 
 
 These Sirens resided in certain pleasant islands, 
 and when, from their watch-tower, they saw any 
 ship approaching, they first detained the sailors by 
 their music, then, enticing them to shore, destroyed 
 them. 
 
 Their singing was not of one and the same kind, 
 but they adapted their tunes exactly to the nature 
 of each person, in order to captivate and secure him. 
 And so destructive had they been, that these islands 
 of the Sirens appeared, to a very great distance, 
 white with the bones of their unburied captives. 
 
 Two different remedies were invented to protect 
 persons against them, the one by Ulysses, the other 
 by Orpheus. Ulysses commanded his associates to 
 stop their ears close with wax ; and he, determining 
 to make the trial, and yet avoid the danger, ordered 
 himself to be tied fast to a mast of the ship, giving 
 
422 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 strict charge not to be unbound, even though him- 
 self should entreat it ; but Orpheus, without any 
 binding at all, escaped the danger, by loudly chant- 
 ing to his harp the praises of the gods, whereby he 
 drowned the voices of the Sirens. 
 
 Explanation. — This fable is of the moral kind, 
 and appears no less elegant than easy to interpret. 
 For pleasures proceed from plenty and affluence, 
 attended with activity or exultation of the mind.^ 
 Anciently their first incentives were quick, and 
 seized upon men as if they had been winged, but 
 learning and philosophy afterwards prevailing, had 
 at least the power to lay the mind under some re- 
 straint, and make it consider the issue of things, and 
 thus deprived pleasures of their wings. 
 
 This conquest redounded greatly to the honor and 
 ornament of the Muses; for after it appeared, by 
 the example of a few, that philosophy could intro- 
 duce a contempt of pleasures, it immediately seemed 
 to be a sublime thing that could raise and elevate 
 the soul, fixed in a manner down to the earth, and 
 thus render men's thoughts, which reside in the head, 
 winged as it were, or sublime. 
 
 Only the mother of the Sirens was not thus plumed 
 on the head, which doubtless denotes superficial 
 learning, invented and used for delight and levity; 
 
 1 The one denoted by the river Achelous, and the other by 
 Terpsichore, the muse that invented the cithara and delighted in 
 dancing. 
 
THE SIRENS, OR PLEASURES. 423 
 
 an eminent example whereof we have in Petronius, 
 who, after receiving sentence of death, still continued 
 his gay frothy humor, and as Tacitus observes, used 
 his learning to solace or divert himself, and instead 
 of such discourses as give firmness and constancy 
 of mind, read nothing but loose poems and verses.^ 
 Such learning as this seems to pluck the crowns 
 again from the Muses' heads, and restore them to 
 the Sirens. 
 
 The Sirens are said to inhabit certain islands, be- 
 cause pleasures generally seek retirement, and often 
 shun society. And for their songs, with the mani- 
 fold artifice and destructiveness thereof, this is too 
 obvious and common to need explanation. But 
 that particular of the bones stretching like white 
 cliffs along the shores, and appearing afar off, con- 
 tains a more subtile allegory, and denotes that the 
 examples of others' calamity and misfortunes, though 
 ever so manifest and apparent, have yet but little 
 force to deter the corrupt nature of man from 
 pleasures. 
 
 The allegory of the remedies against the Sirens 
 is not difficult, but very wise and noble ; it proposes, 
 
 1 "Vivamus, mea Lesbia, atque amenius ; 
 Rumoresque senum sevei'ioruin 
 Omnes unius estiraemus assis. " — Catull. Eleg. v. 
 
 And again — 
 
 "Jura senes norint, et quod sit fasque nefasque 
 Inquirant tristes ; leguraque examina sevvent." 
 
 Mctam. ix. 550. 
 
424 WISDOM OF THE ANCIENTS. 
 
 in effect, three remedies, as well against subtile as 
 violent mischiefs, two drawn from philosophy and 
 one from religion. 
 
 The first means of escaping is to resist the earli- 
 est temptation in the beginning, and diligently avoid 
 and cut off all occasions that may solicit or sway 
 the mind; and this is well represented by shutting 
 up the ears, a kind of remedy to be necessarily used 
 with mean and vulgar minds, such as the retinue of 
 Ulysses. 
 
 But nobler spirits may converse, even in the midst 
 of pleasures, if the mind be well guarded with 
 constancy and resolution. And thus some delight 
 to make a severe trial of their own virtue, and 
 thoroughly acquaint themselves with the folly and 
 madness of pleasures, without complying or being 
 wholly given up to them; which is what Solomon 
 professes of himself when he closes the account of 
 all the numerous pleasures he gave a loose to, with 
 this expression: "But wisdom still continued with 
 me." Such heroes in virtue may, therefore, remain 
 unmoved by the greatest incentives to pleasure, 
 and stop themselves on the very precipice of dan- 
 ger; if, according to the example of Ulysses, they 
 turn a deaf ear to pernicious counsel, and the 
 flatteries of their friends and companions, which 
 have the greatest power to shake and unsettle 
 the mind. 
 
 But the most excellent remedy, in every tempta- 
 tion, is that of Orpheus, who, by loudly chanting 
 
THE SIRENS, OR PLEASURES. 425 
 
 and resounding the praises of the gods, conlbiuukMl 
 the voices, and kept himself from hearing tlie music 
 of the Sirens ; for divine contemplations exceed the 
 pleasures of sense, not only in power but also in 
 sweetness. 
 
 University Press : John Wilson & Son. Cambridge. 
 

 
 
 
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