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THE HARVARD CLASSICS

The Five-Foot Shelf of Books

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THE HARVARD CLASSICS
EDITED BY CHARLES W. ELIOT, LL.D.

Essays, Civil and Moral

AND

The New Atlantis
By Francis Bacon

Areopagitica

AND

Tractate on Education
By John Milton

Religio Medici
By Sir Thomas Browne

W//A Introductions and Notes
Wo/ume 3

P. F. Collier & Son Corporation

NEW YORK

Copyright, 1909
By p. F. Collier & Son

manuractusxd in v. s. a.

CONTENTS

PACE

Essays or Counsels — Civil and Moral -7

I. Of Truth 7

II. Of Death 9

III. Of Unity in Religion "

IV. Of Revenge I5

V. Of Adversity i6

VI. Of Simulation and Dissimulation 17

VII. Of Parents and Children 19

VIII. Of Marriage and Single Life 21

IX. Of Envy M

X. Of Love 26

XI. Of Great Place 28

XII. Of Boldness 31

XIII. Of Goodness and Goodness of Nature 32

XIV. Of Nobility 34

XV. Of Seditions and Troubles 3^

XVI. Of Atheism 4^

XVII. Of Superstition 45

XVIII. Of Travel 4^

XIX. Of Empire 48

XX. Of Counsel 5^

XXI. Of Delays 56

XXII. Of Cunning 57

XXIII. Of Wisdom for a Man's Self 60

XXIV. Of Innovations 61

XXV. Of Dispatch 62

XXVI. Of Seeming Wise 64

XXVII. Of Friendship 65

XXVIII. Of Expense 72

XXIX. Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms and Esutes 73

XXX. Of Regiment of Health 81

XXXI. Of Suspicion 82

XXXII. Of Discourse 83

XXXIII. Of Plantations 85

XXXIV. Of Riches 87

XXXV. Of Prophecies 90

2 CONTENTS

PACE

XXXVI. Of Ambition 93

XXXVII. Of Masques and Triumphs 95

XXXVIII. Of Nature in Men 96

XXXIX. Of Custom and Education 98

XL. Of Fortune 99

XLI. Of Usury loi

XLII. Of Youth and Age 104

XLIII. Of Beauty 106

XLIV. Of Deformity 107

XLV. Of Building 108

XLVI. Of Gardens 112

XL VII. Of Negotiating 117

XLVIII. Of Followers and Friends 119

XLIX. Of Suitors 120

L. Of Studies 122

LI. Of Faction 123

LI I. Of Ceremonies and Respects 124

LIII. Of Praise 126

LIV. Of Vain-glory 127

LV. Of Honor and Reputation 129

LVI. Of Judicature 130

LVII. Of Anger i34

LVIII. Of Vicissitude of Things 136

LIX. Of Fame 140

The New Atlantis i45

Areopacitica 183

Order of the Long Parliament for the Regulating of Printing,

14 June, 1643 185

A Speech for the Liberty of Unlicensed Printing 189

Milton's Tractate on Education 233

Relicio Medici 249

The First Part 253

The Second Part 3'°

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Francis Bacon, son of Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Keeper of the Great
Seal to Queen Elizabeth, was born in London on January 22, 1561. He
entered Trinity College, Cambridge, at the age of twelve, and in 1576
he interrupted the law studies he had begun in that year, to go to France
in the train of the English Ambassador, Sir Amyas Paulet. He was
called home in 1579 by the death of his father; and, having been left
with but a small income, he resumed the study of law, and became a
barrister in 1582. Two years later he entered the House of Commons,
and began to take an active part in politics.

From an early age Bacon had been interested in science, and it was
in the pursuit of scientific truth that his heart lay. He conceived, how-
ever, that for the achievement of the great results at which he aimed,
money and prestige were necessary; and he worked hard for both. He
was a candidate for several offices of state during Elizabeth's reign, but
gained no substantial promotion, and was often in hard straits for
money. He received aid from influential patrons, notably the E^rl of
Essex; and his desertion of this nobleman, with the part he took in his
prosecution for treason, is regarded as one of the chief blots on his
personal record.

Shordy after the accession of James I, Bacon was knighted; in 1606 he
married the daughter of an alderman; and in the following year he
received the appointment of Solicitor-General, the first important step
in the career which culminated in the Lord Chancellorship in 1618. In
the latter year he was raised to the peerage as Baron Verulam, and in
1 621 he became Viscount St. Albans. He was now at the summit of his
public career; but within four months the crash came, and he was con-
victed of bribery, and sentenced by the House of Lords to the loss of
all his offices, to imprisonment, and to the payment of a large fine. He
died in retirement on April 9, 1626, leaving no children.

Bacon's most important writings in science and philosophy are parts
of a vast work which he left unfinished, his "Magna Instauratio." The
first part of this, the "De Augmentis," is an enlargement in Latin of his
book on "The Advancement of Learning," in which he takes account of
the progress in human knowledge to his own day. The second part is
the famous "Novum Organum," or "New Instrument"; a description of
the method of induction based on observation and experiment, by which
he believed future progress was to be made. The later parts consist

4 INTRODUCTORY NOTE

chiefly of fragmentary collections of natural phenomena, and tentative
suggestions of the philosophy which was to result from the application of
his method to the facts of the physical world.

Bacon's own experiments are of slight scientific value, nor was he very
familiar with some of the most important discoveries of his own day;
but the fundamental principles laid down by him form the foundation of
modern scientific method.

Bacon's writings are by no means confined to the field of natural
philosophy. He wrote a notable "History of Henry VII"; many pam-
phlets on current {wlitical topics; "The New Atlantis," an unfinished ac-
count of an ideal state; "The Wisdom of the Ancients," a series of
interpretations of classical myths in an allegorical sense; legal "Maxims";
and much else.

But by far his most popular work is his "Essays," published in three
editions in his lifetime, the first containing ten essays, in 1597; the
second, with thirty-eight, in 1612; and the third, as here printed, in
1625. These richly condensed utterances on men and affairs show in the
field of conduct something of the same stress on the useful and the
expedient as appears in his scientific work. But it is unjust to regard the
"Essays" as representing Bacon's ideal of conduct. They are rather a
collection of shrewd observations as to how, in fact, men do get on in
life; human nature, not as it ought to be, but as it is. Sometimes, but
by no means always, they consider certain kinds of behavior from a moral
standpoint; oftener they are frankly pieces of worldly wisdom; again,
they show Bacon's ideas of state policy; still again, as in the essay "Of
Gardens," they show us his private enthusiasms. They cover an im-
mense variety of topics; they are written in a clear, concise, at times
almost epigrammatic, style; they are packed with matter; and now, as
when he wrote them, they, to use his own words of them, "come home to
men's business and bosoms."

THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY

To the Right Honorable my very good Lx). the Duke of Buckingham
his Grace, Lx). High Admiral of England.

Excellent Lo.

Solomon says, A good name is as a precious ointment; and I assure
myself, such will your Grace's name be with posterity. For your fortune
and merit both have been eminent. And you have planted things that
are like to last. 1 do now publish my Essays; which, of all my other
works, have been most current; for that, as it seems, they come home
to men's business and bosoms. I have enlarged them both in number
and weight; so that they are indeed a new work. I thought it therefore
agreeable to my affection and obligation to your Grace, to prefix your
name before them, both in English and in Latin. For I do conceive that
the Latin volume of them (being in the universal language) may last
as long as books last. My Instauration I dedicated to the King; my
History of Henry the Seventh (which I have now also translated into
Latin), and my portions of Natural History, to the Prince; and these I
dedicate to your Grace; being of the best fruits that by the good increase
which God gives to my pen and labors I could yield. God lead your
Grace by the hand.

Your Grace's most obliged and

faithful servant,

Fr. St. Alban.

ESSAYS OR COUNSELS
CIVIL AND MORAL

I

OF TRUTH

Y T'T'HAT is truth? said jesting Pilate, and would not stay for
l/gy an answer. Certainly there be that delight in giddiness,
F r and count it a bondage to fix a belief; affecting' free-will
in thinking, as well as in acting. And though the sects of philoso-
phers, of that kind^ be gone, yet there remain certain discoursing'
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 diffi-
culty 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 schooP of the Grecians examineth 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 advan-
tage, as with the merchant; but for the lie's sake. But I cannot tell;
this same truth is a naked and open day-light, that doth not show the
masks and mummeries and triumphs of the world, half so stately and
daintily as candle-lights. Truth may jjerhaps 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 mix-
ture 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 number of men poor shrunken things,
full of melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves?

' Loving. ' The Skeptics. ' Latin, windy and rambling.
* Restricts. ' Lucian.

8 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

One of the fathers, in great severity, called poesy vinum damonum
[devils'-wine], because it filleth the imagination; 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, which is the love-making or wooing of it, the knowledge of
truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is
the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature. The first
creature of God, in the works of the days, was the light of the sense;
the last was the light of reason; 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 inspireth light into the face of his
chosen. The poet* that beautified the sect' that was otherwise in-
ferior to the rest, saith yet excellendy well: // is a 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 adven-
tures thereof below: but no pleasure is comparable to the standing
upon the vantage ground of truth (a hill not to be commanded, and
where the air is always clear and serene), and to see the errors and
wanderings and mists and tempests in the vale below; so always
that this prospect be with pity, and not with swelling or pride. Cer-
tainly, it is heaven upon earth, to have a man's mind move in charity,
rest in providence, and turn upon the f)oles of truth.

To pass from theological and philosophical truth to the truth of
civil business; it will be acknowledged even by those that practise it
not, that clear and round dealing is the honor of man's nature; and
that mixture of falsehood is like alloy in coin 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 dis-

* Lucretius. ^ Epicureans.

OF DEATH 9

grace and such an odious charge. Saith he, // ;'/ be well weighed, to
say that a man lieth, is as much to say, as that he is brave towards
God and a coward towards men. For a lie faces God, and shrinks
from man. Surely the wickedness of falsehood and breach 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.

II

OF DEATH

Men fear death, as children fear to go in the dark; and as that
natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other. Cer-
tainly, 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 some-
times mixture of vanity and of superstition. You shall read in some
of the friars' books of mortification, that a man should think with
himself what the pain is if he have but his finger's end pressed or
tortured, and thereby imagine what the pains of death are, when
the whole body is corrupted and dissolved; when many times death
passeth with less pain than the torture of a limb; for the most vital
parts are not the quickest of sense. And by him that spake' only
as a philosopher and natural man, it was well said, Pompa mortis
magis tenet, quam mors ipsa [It is the accompaniments of death
that are frightful rather than death itself]. Groans and convulsions,
and a discolored face, and friends weeping, and blacks,* and obse-
quies, and the like, show death terrible. It is worthy the observing,
that there is no passion in the mind of man so weak, but it mates'
and masters the fear of death; and therefore death is no such terrible
enemy when a man hath so many attendants about him that can win
the combat of him. Revenge triumphs over death; love slights it;
honor aspireth to it; grief flieth to it; fear pre-occupateth* it; nay,
we read,' after Otho the emperor had slain himself, pity (which is

' Seneca. ' Mourning garments. ' Conquers.
* Anticipates. ' In Plutarch's "Lives."

10 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

the tenderest of affections) provoked many to die, out of mere com-
passion to their sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers. Nay,
Seneca adds niceness' and satiety: Cogita quamdiu eadem feceris;
mori velle, non tantum fortis aut miser, sed etiam jastidiosus potest
[Think how long thou hast done the same thing; not only a valiant
man or a miserable man, but also a fastidious man is able to wish
for death]. 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 approaches of death make; for they appear to be
the same men till the last instant. Augustus Caesar died in a compli-
ment; Livia, conjugii nostri memor, vive et vale [Farewell, Li via;
and forget not the days of our marriage]. Tiberius in dissimulation;
as Tacitus saith of him, Jam Tiberium vires et corpus, non dissimu-
latio, deserehant [His powers of body were gone, but his power of
dissimulation still remained]. Vespasian in a jest, sitting upon the
stool; Vt puto detis fio [As I think, I am becoming a god]. Galba
with a sentence; Feri, si ex re sit poptili Romani [Strike, if it be for
the good of Rome]; holding forth his neck. Septimius Severus in
despatch; Adeste si quid mihi restat agendum [Be at hand, if there
is anything more for me to do]. 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 vitce ex-
tremum inter munera ponat natures [who accounts the close of life
as one of the benefits of nature]. It is as natural to die as to be born;
and to a litde infant, perhaps, the one is as painful as the other. He
that dies in an earnest pursuit, is like one that is wounded in hot
blood; who, for the time, scarce feels the hurt; and therefore a mind
fixed and bent upon somewhat that is good doth avert the dolers of
death. But, above all, believe it, the sweetest canticle is, Nunc
dimittis [Now lettest thou . . . depart]; when a man hath obtained
worthy ends and expectations. Death hath this also; that it openeth
the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy. Extinctus amabitur
idem [The same man that was envied while he lived, shall be loved
when he is gone].

'Fastidiousness. ^JuveoaL

OF UNITY IN RELIGION II

III

OF Vttm IN RELIGION

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

The fruits of unity (next unto the well pleasing of God, which is
all in all) are two: the one towards those that are without the
church, the other towards those that are within. For the former; it
is certain that heresies and schisms are of all others the greatest
scandals; yea, more than corruption of manners. For as in the natu-
ral body a wound or solution of continuity is worse than a corrupt
humor; 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 therefore, whensoever it cometh to that pass, that one
saith Ecce in deserto [Lo! in the desert], another saith Ecce in pene-
trcdibus^ [Lo! in the sanctuary); that is, when some men seek
Christ in the conventicles of heretics, and others in an outward face
of a church, that voice had need continually to sound in men's ears,
Nolite exire} — Go not out. The doctor of the Gentiles^ (the pro-
priety of whose vocation drew him to have a special care of those
without) saith, // an heathen come in, and hear you spea\ 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
* Matthew xxiv. 36. * St. Paul.

12 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

matter, but yet it expresseth well the deformity. There is a master
of scoflSng,' that in his catalogue of books of a feigned library sets
down this title of a book, The Morris-Dance of Heretics. For indeed
every sect of them hath a diverse posture or cringe by themselves,
which cannot but move derision in worldlings and depraved poli-
tics,* 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 peace of the church distilleth into peace of conscience;
and it turneth the labors of writing and reading of controversies
into treaties' of mortification and devotion.

Concerning the bounds of unity; the true placing of them im-
porteth exceedingly. There appear to be two extremes. For to cer-
tain zealants' all speech of pacification is odious. Is it peace, Jehu?
What hast thou to do with peace? turn thee behind tneJ Peace is
not the matter, but following and party. Contrariwise, certain Lao-
diceans and lukewarm persons think they may acconunodate 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 Savior 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 re-
ligion were truly discerned and distinguished from points not merely
of faith, but of opinion, order, or good intention. This is a thing may
seem to many a matter trivial,' and done already. But if it were
done less partially, it would be embraced more generally.

Of this I may give only this advice, according to my small model.
Men ought to take heed of rending God's church by two kinds of
controversies. The one is, when the matter of the point controverted
is too small and light, not worth the heat and strife about it, kindled
only by contradiction. For as it is noted by one of the fathers,
Christ's coat indeed had no seam, but the church's vesture was of
divers colors; whereupon he saith. In veste varietas sit, scissura non

* Rabelais. * Politicians. 'Treatises. 'Zealots. ^3 Kiogs ix. l8, 19.
* Ingenious. * Commonplace.

OF UNITY IN RELIGION I3

/!>" [Let there be variety in the garment, but let there be no divi-
sion]; 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 under-
standing shall sometimes hear ignorant men differ, and know well
within himself that those which so differ mean one thing, and yet
they themselves would never agree. And if it come so to pass in that
distance of judgment which is between man and man, shall we not
think that God above, that knows the heart, doth not discern that
frail men in some of their contradictions intend the same thing; and
accepteth of both? The nature of such controversies is excellently
expressed by St. Paul in the warning and precept that he giveth con-
cerning the same, Devita profanas vocum novitates, et oppositiones
falsi nominis scientia [Avoid profane novelties of terms, and op-
positions of science falsely so called]. Men create opp)ositions which
are not; and put them into new terms so fixed, as whereas the mean-
ing ought to govern the term, the term in effect governeth the mean-
ing. 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 false-
hood, in such things, are like the iron and clay in the toes of Neb-
uchadnezzar's image; they may cleave, but they will not incorpo-
rate.

Concerning the means of procuring unity; men must beware, that
in the procuring or muniting'^ of religious unity they do not dis-
solve and deface the laws of charity and of human society. There
be two swords amongst Christians, the spiritual and temporal; and
both have their due office and place in the maintenance of religion.
But we may not take up the third sword, which is Mahomet's
sword, or like unto it; that is, to propagate religion by wars or by
sanguinary persecutions to force consciences; except it be in cases of
overt scandal, blasphemy, or intermixture of practice" against the
state; much less to nourish seditions; to authorize conspiracies and
rebellions; to put the sword into the people's hands; and the like;
•*St. Augustine. "Entangled. "Fortifying. "Plotting.

14 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

tending to the subversion of all government, which is the ordinance
of God. For this is but to dash the first table'* against the second;
and so to consider men as Christians, as we forget that they are
men. Lucretius the poet, when he beheld the act of Agamemnon,
that could endure the sacrificing of his own daughter, exclaimed:

"Tantum Religio potuit suadere malorum"

[To such ill artions Religion could persuade a man]. What would
he have said, if he had known of the massacre in France," or the
{xjwder treason of England ? He would have been seven times more
Epicure and atheist than he was. For as the temporal sword is to
be drawn with great circumspection in cases of religion; so it is a
thing monstrous to put it into the hands of the common people.
Let that be left unto the Anabaptists, and other furies. It was great
blasphemy when the devil said, / will ascend and be like the High-
est; but it is greater blasphemy to personate God, and bring him in
saying, / will descend, and be li^e the prince of darkness: and what is
better, to make the cause of religion to descend to the cruel and
execrable actions of murthering princes, butchery of jjeople, and sub-
version of states and governments? Surely this is to bring down the
Holy Ghost, instead of the likeness of a dove, in the shape of a
vulture or raven; and set out of the bark of a Christian church a flag
of a bark of pirates and assassins. Therefore it is most necessary
that the church by doctrine and decree, princes by their sword, and
all learnings, both Christian and moral, as by their Mercury rod,"
do damn and send to hell for ever those facts" and opinions tending
to the support of the same; as hath been already in good part done.
Surely in counsels concerning religion, that counsel of the apostle"
would be prefixed, Ira hominis non implet justitiam Dei [The wrath
of man worketh not the righteousness of God]. And it was a notable
observation of a wise father, and no less ingenuously confessed; that
those which held and persuaded pressure of consciences, were com-
monly interested therein themselves for their own ends.

'*Of the commandments. Exodus xxxii. 15, 16; xxxiv. 1-5, 29. '*On St.

Bartholomew's Day, 1 572. " With which Mercury summoned souls to the

other world. " Deeds. " St. ]ames.

OF REVENGE I5

IV

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
putteth the law out of office. Certainly, in taking revenge, a man is
but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior; for
it is a prince's part to pardon. And Solomon, I am sure, saith. It is
the glory of a man to pass by an offence. That which is past is gone,
and irrevocable; and wise men have enough to do with things pres-
ent 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 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 before hand, and it is two for
one. Some, when they take revenge, are desirous the party should
know whence it cometh. This is the more generous. For the delight
seemeth to be not so much in doing the hurt as in making the party
repent. But 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 unpardon-
able; You shall read (saith he) that we are commanded to forgive
our enemies; but you never read that we are commanded to forgive
our friends. But yet the spirit of Job was in a better tune: Shall we
(saith he) take good at God's hands, and not be content to take evil
also? And so of friends in a proportion. This is certain, that a man
that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green, which other-
wise would heal and do well. Public revenges are for the most part
fortunate; as that for the death of Caesar; for the death of Pertinax;
for the death of Henry the Third of France; and many more. But

1 6 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

in private revenges it is not so. Nay rather, vindictive persons live
the life of witches; who, as they are mischievous, so end they infor-
tunate.

V

OF ADVERSITY

It was a high speech of Seneca (after the manner of the Stoics),
that the good things which belong to prosperity are to be wished;
but the good things that belong to adversity are to be admired. Bona
rerum secundarum optabilia; adversarum mirabilia. Certainly if
miracles be the command over nature, they appear most in adversity.
It is yet a higher speech of his than the other (much too high for a
heathen), // 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 better in poesy, where
transcendences are more allowed. And the poets indeed have
been busy with it; for it is in effect the thing which 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 hu-
man 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; ad-
versity is the blessing of the New; which carrieth the greater bene-
diction, 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 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 melan-
choly work upon a lightsome ground: judge therefore of the
' In moderation. ' Dark-colored.

OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION I7

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.

VI

OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION

DissiMin,ATiON 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 politics that are the
great dissemblers.

Tacitus saith, Lit/ia sorted well with the arts of her husband and
dissimulation of her son; attributing arts or policy to Augustus, and
dissimulation to Tiberius. And again, when Mucianus encourageth
Vespasian to take arms against Vitellius, he saith, We rise not
against the piercing judgment of Augustus, nor the extreme caution
or closeness of Tiberius. These properties, of arts or policy and dis-
simulation or closeness, are indeed habits and faculties several, and
to be distinguished. For if a man have that f)enetration of judg-
ment as he can discern 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 judgment, then
it is left to him generally to be close, and a dissembler. For where
a man cannot choose or vary in particulars, there it is good to take
the safest and wariest way in general; like the going softly by one
that cannot well see. Certainly the ablest men that ever were have
had all an openness and frankness of dealing; and a name of cer-
tainty and veracity; but then they were like horses well managed;'
for they could tell passing well when to stop or turn; and at such
times when they thought the case indeed required dissimulation, if
then they used it, it came to pass that the former opinion spread
abroad of their good faith and clearness of dealing made them almost
invisible.

• Display. * Trained.

l8 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

There be three degrees of this hiding and veihng of a man's self.
The first, closeness, reservation, and secrecy; when a man leaveth
himself without observation, or without hold to be taken, what he
is. The second, dissimulation, in the negative; when a man lets fall
signs and arguments, that he is not that he is. And the third, simu-
lation, in the affirmative; 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 con-
fessor. 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
knowledge of many things in that kind; while men rather discharge
their minds than impart their minds. In few words, mysteries are
due to secrecy. Besides (to say truth) nakedness is uncomely, as well
in mind as body; and it addeth no small reverence to men's manners
and actions, if they be not altogether open. As for talkers and futile'
persons, they are commonly vain and credulous withal. For he that
talketh what he knoweth, will also talk what he knoweth not.
Therefore set it down, that an 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 foUoweth 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 sjjeech.
As for equivocations, or oraculous speeches, they cannot hold out
long. So that no man can be secret, except he give himself a litde
scope of dissimulation; which is, as it were, but the skirts or train
of secrecy. ^ Babbling. ' Line*, expression.

OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN ip

But for the third degree, which is simulation and false profes-
sion; 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 false-
ness or fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some main faults, which
because a man must needs disguise, it maketh him practise simula-
tion in other things, lest his hand should be out of ure/

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

VII

OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN

The joys of parents are secret; and so are their griefs and fears.
They cannot utter the one; nor they will not utter the other. Chil-

* Practise. ' Rather. ' Straight ' Combination of qualities, temperament.

20 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

dren sweeten labors; but they make misfortunes more bitter. They
increase the cares of life; but they mitigate the remembrance of
death. The perpetuity by generation is common to beasts; but mem-
ory, merit, and noble works are proper to men. And surely a man
shall see the noblest works and foundations have proceeded from
childless men; which have sought to express the images of their
minds, where those of their bodies have failed. So the care of pos-
terity 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 continuance not only of their kind but of
their work; and so both children and creatures.

The difference in affection of parents towards their several chil-
dren is many times unequal; and sometimes unworthy; especially
in the mother; as Solomon saith, A wise son rejoiceth the father, but
an ungracious son shames the mother. A man shall see, where there
is a house full of children, one or two of the eldest respected, and
the youngest made wantons;' but in the midst some that are as it
were forgotten, who many times nevertheless prove the best. The
illiberality of parents in allowance towards their children is an harm-
ful 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 therefore the proof is best, when men keep
their authority towards their children, but not their purse. Men
have a foolish manner (both parents and schoolmasters and serv-
ants) in creating and breeding an emulation between brothers dur-
ing childhood, which many times sorteth' to discord when they
are men, and disturbeth families. The Italians make little differ-
ence between children and nephews or near kinsfolks; 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; in-
somuch that we see a nephew sometimes resembleth an uncle or a
kinsman more than his own parent; as the blood happens. Let par-
ents choose betimes the vocations and courses they mean their chil-
dren should take; for then they are most flexible; and let them not
too much apply themselves to the disposition of their children, as
thinking they will take best to that which they have most mind to.

' Spoiled. ' Associate. ' Turns out.

OF MARRIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE 21

It is true, that if the affection or aptness of the children be extraor-
dinary, then it is good not to cross it; but generally the precept is
good, optimum elige, suave et facile illud jaciet consuetudo [choose
the best — custom will make it pleasant and easy]. 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 children hath given hostages to fortune;
for they are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mis-
chief. Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit for the public,
have proceeded from the unmarried or childless men; which both in
affection and means have married and endowed the public. Yet it
were great reason that those that have children should have great-
est care of future times; unto which they know they must transmit
their dearest pledges. Some there are, who though they lead a sin-
gle life, yet their thoughts do end with themselves, and account fu-
ture 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 perhaps 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 sub-
jects; for they are light to run away; and almost all fugitives are
of that condition. A single life doth well with churchmen; for
charity will hardly water the ground where it must first fill a pool.
It is indifferent for judges and magistrates; for if they be facile and
corrupt, you shall have a servant five times worse than a wife. For
soldiers, I find the generals commonly in their hortatives put men in
mind of their wives and children; and I think the despising of mar-
' Not their affair. ^ Capricious.

22 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

riage amongst the Turks maketh the vulgar soldier more base. Cer-
tainly wife and children are a kind of discipline of humanity; and
single men, though they may be many times more charitable, be-
cause their means are less exhaust, yet, on the other side, they are
more cruel and hardhearted (good to make severe inquisitors), be-
cause their tenderness is not so oft called upon. Grave natures, led
by custom, and therefore constant, are commonly loving husbands,
as was said of Ulysses, vetulam suam preetulit immortalitati [he pre-
ferred his old wife to immortality]. Chaste women are often proud
and froward, as presuming upon the merit of their chastity. It is
one of the best bonds both of chastity and obedience in the wife, if
she 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 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 husband's kindness when it comes; or that the wives take
a pride in their patience. But this never fails, if the bad husbands
were of their own 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 fasci-
nate or bewitch, but love and envy. They both have vehement
wishes; they frame themselves readily into imaginations and sug-
gestions; and they come easily into the eye, especially upon the
presence of the objects; which are the points that conduce to fasci-
nation, if any such thing there be. We see likewise the Scripture
calleth envy an evil eye; and the astrologers call the evil influences
of the stars evil aspects; so that still there seemeth to be acknowl-
edged, 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
' Pretext. * Thales. ' Darting out.

OF ENVY 23

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 unworthy 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 envieth virtue in others.
For men's minds will either feed upon their own good or upon
others' evil; and who wanteth the one will prey upon the other; and
whoso is out of hope to attain to another's virtue, will seek to come
at even hand by depressing another's fortune.

A man that is busy and inquisitive is commonly envious. For to
know 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 envy is a gadding passion, and walketh the streets,
and doth not keep home: Non est curiosus, quin idem sit malevolus
[There is no curious man but has some malevolence to quicken his
curiosity].

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

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

The same is the case of men that rise after calamities and mis-
fortunes. For they are as men fallen out with the times; and think
other men's harms a redemption of their own sufferings.

They that desire to excel in too many matters, out of levity and

24 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

vain glory, are ever envious. For they cannot want work; it being
impossible but many in some one of those things should surpass
them. Which was the character of Adrian the Emperor; that mor-
tally envied poets and painters and artificers, in works wherein he
had a vein to excel.

Lastly, near kinsfolks, and fellows in office, and those that have
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 re-
doubleth 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 no body to look on. Thus much for those
that are apt to envy.

Concerning those that are more or less subject to envy: First,
persons of eminent virtue, when they are advanced, are less envied.
For their fortune seemeth but due unto them; and no man envieth
the payment of a debt, but rewards and liberality rather. Again, envy
is ever joined with the comparing of a man's self; and where there
is no comparison, no envy; and therefore kings are not envied but
by kings. 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 seem-
eth but right done to their birth. Besides, there seemeth not 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 [at a bound].

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

' Runneth into. ' Travails, labors.

OF ENVY 25

politic persons/ in their greatness, are ever bemoaning themselves,
what a life they lead; chanting a quanta patimur [how great things
do we suffer!]. Not that they feel it so, but only to abate the 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 in-
creaseth envy more than an unnecessary and ambitious engrossing of
business. And nothing doth extinguish envy more than for a great
person to preserve all other inferior officers in their full rights and
pre-eminences of their places. For by that means there be so many
screens between him and envy.

Above all, those are most subject to envy, which carry the great-
ness of their fortunes in an insolent and proud manner; being never
well but while they are showing how great they are, either by out-
ward f)omp, or by triumphing over all opjxisition or competition;
whereas wise men will rather do sacrifice to envy, in suffering them-
selves 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 vain glory) doth draw less envy than if it
be in a more crafty and cunning fashion. For in that course a man
doth but disavow fortune; and seemeth to be conscious of his own
want in worth; and doth but teach others to envy him.

Lastly, to conclude this part; as we said in the beginning that the
act of envy had somewhat in it of witchcraft, so there is no other
cure of envy but the cure of witchcraft; and that is, to remove the
lot^ (as they call it) and to lay it upon another. For which purpose,
the wiser sort of great persons bring in ever upon the stage somebody
upon whom to derive' the envy that would come upon themselves;
sometimes u{X)n ministers and servants; sometimes upon colleagues
and associates; and the like; and for that turn there are never want-
ing 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 within bounds.
* Politicians. ' Spell. • Divert.

26 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

This envy, being in the Latin word invidia, goeth in the modern
languages by the name of discontentment; 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, 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 envy be general in a manner
upon all the ministers of an estate; then the envy (though hidden)
is truly upon the state itself. And so much of public envy or dis-
contentment, and the difference thereof from private envy, which
was handled in the first place.

We will add this in general, touching the affection of envy; that
of all other affections it is the most importune and continual. For of
other affections there is occasion given but now and then; and there-
fore it was well said, Invidia jestos dies non agit [Envy keeps no
holidays] : for it is ever working upon some or other. And it is also
noted that love and envy do make a man pine, which other affec-
tions 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 cometh to pass, that
envy worketh subtilly, and in the dark, and to the prejudice of good
things, such as is the wheat.

X

OF LOVE

The stage is more beholding to love, than the life of man. For
as to the stage, love is ever matter of comedies, and now and then of

' Praiseworthy.

OF LOVE 27

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 Appius
Claudius, the decemvir and lawgiver; whereof the former was indeed
a voluptuous man, and inordinate; but the latter was an austere and
wise man: and therefore it seems (though rarely) that love can find
entrance not only into an open heart, but also into a heart well
fortified, if watch be not well kept. It is a poor saying of Epicurus,
Satis magnum alter alteri theatrum sumus [Each is to another a
theatre large enough]; as if man, made for the contemplation of
heaven and all noble objects, should do nothing but kneel before a
litde idol, and make himself a subject, though not of the mouth (as
beasts are), yet of the eye; which was given him for higher purposes.
It is a strange thing to note the excess of this passion, and how it
braves the nature and value of things, by this; that the speaking
in a perpetual hyperbole is comely in nothing but in love. Neither
is it merely in the phrase; for whereas it hath been well said that
the arch-flatterer, with whom all the pjetty flatterers have intelligence,
is a man's self; certainly the lover is more. For there was never
proud man thought so absurdly well of himself as the lover doth of
the person loved; and therefore it was well said. That it is impossible
to love and to be wise. Neither doth this weakness appear to others
only, and not to the party loved; but to the loved most of all, except
the love be reciproque.' For it is a true rule, that love is ever rewarded
either with the reciproque or with an inward and secret contempt.
By how much the more men ought to beware of this passion, which
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 esteem-
eth too much of amorous affection quitteth both riches and wisdom.
This passion hath his floods in very times of weakness; which are
great prosperity and great adversity; though this latter hath been less

'Mutual.

28 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 no ways be true to their own ends. I know not how,
but martial men are given to love : I think it is but as they are given
to wine; for perils commonly ask to be paid in pleasures. There is
in man's nature a secret inclination and motion towards love of
others, which if it be not spent upon some one or a few, doth natu-
rally spread itself towards many, and maketh men become humane
and charitable; as it is seen sometime in friars. Nuptial love maketh
mankind; friendly love perfecteth it; but wanton love corrupteth
and embaseth it.

XI

OF GREAT PLACE

Men in great place are thrice servants: servants of the sovereign
or state; servants of fame; and servants of business. So as they have
no freedom; neither in their persons, nor in their actions, nor in
their times. It is a strange desire, to seek power and to lose liberty:
or to seek pxjwer 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 down-
fall, or at least an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing. Cum non
sis qui fueris, non esse cur velis vivere [When a man feels that he
is no longer what he was, he has no reason to live longer]. Nay,
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 themselves happy; for if they judge by their own feeling,
they cannot find it; but if they think with themselves what other men
think of them, and that other men would fain be as they are, then
' Its own place. ' Interfere.

OF GREAT PLACE 29

they are happy as it were by report; when perhaps they find the con-
trary within. For they are the first that find their own griefs, though
they be the last that find their own faults. Certainly men in great
fortunes are strangers to 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 incubat, qui notus nimis omnibus, ignotus
moritur sibi [It is a sad fate for a man to die too well known to every-
body else, and still unknown to himself]. 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 litde better than
good dreams, except they be put in act; and that cannot be without
power and place, as the vantage and commanding ground. Merit
and good works is the end of man's motion; and conscience of
the same is the accomplishment of man's rest. For if a man can be
partaker of God's theatre,' he shall likewise be partaker of God's
rest. Et convcrsiis Deus, ut aspiceret opera quce fecerunt manus suae,
vidit quod omnia essent bona nimis [And God turned to look upon
the works which his hands had made, and saw that all were very
good] ; and then the sabbath. 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 thy-
self strictly whether thou didst not best at first. Neglect not also the
examples of those that have carried themselves ill in the same place;
not to set off thyself by taxing' their memory, but to direct thyself what
to avoid. Reform therefore, without bravery* or scandal of former
times and persons; but yet set it down to thyself as well to create
good precedents as to follow them. Reduce things to the first institu-
tion, and observe wherein and how they have degenerate; but yet
ask counsel of both times; of the ancient time, what is best; and of
the latter time, what is fittest. Seek to make thy course regular, that
men may know beforehand what they may expect; but be not too
positive and peremptory; and express thyself well when thou digress-
est from thy rule. Preserve the right of thy place; but stir not
questions of jurisdiction; and rather assume thy right in silence and
' what God taw. ' Complete body. ' Censurmg. * Boastfulness.

3© THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

de facto [from the fact], 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 vices of authority are chiefly four: delays,
corruption, roughness, and facility.' For delays: give easy access;
keep times appointed; go through with that which is in hand, and
interlace not business but of necessity. For corruption: do not only
bind thine own hands or thy servants' hands from taking, but bind
the hands of suitors also from offering. For integrity used doth the
one; but integrity professed, and with a manifest detestation of brib-
ery, doth the other. And avoid not only the fault, but the suspicion.
Whosoever is found variable, and changeth manifesdy without mani-
fest cause, giveth suspicion 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 discon-
tent: severity breedeth fear, but roughness breedeth hate. Even re-
proofs 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; jar
such a man will transgress for a piece of bread. 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 f A man whom every body would have
thought fit for empire if he had not been emperor], saith Tacitus of
Galba; but of Vespasian he saith. Solus imperantium, Vespasianus
mutatus in melius [He was the only emperor whom the possession
of power changed for the better]; though the one was meant of
sufficiency, the other of manners and affection. It is an assured sign
of a worthy and generous spirit, whom honor amends. For honor
* Being easily led. • Do secretly. ' Secret. * Considerations.

OF BOLDNESS 3 1

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 am-
bition is violent, in authority settled and calm. All rising to great
place is by a winding stair; and if there be factions, it is good to side
a man's self whilst he is in the rising, and to balance himself when
he is placed. Use the memory of thy predecessor fairly and tenderly;
for if thou dost not, it is a debt will sure be paid when thou art
gone. If thou have colleagues, respect them, and rather call them
when they look not for it, than exclude them when they have reason
to look to be called. Be not too sensible or too remembering of thy
place in conversation and private answers to suitors; but let it rather
be said, When he sits in place he is another man.

XII

OF 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 of men's minds is taken are most
potent. Wonderful like is the case of boldness in civil business: what
first? boldness; what second and third? boldness. And yet bold-
ness is a child of ignorance and baseness, far inferior to other parts.
But nevertheless it doth fascinate and bind hand and foot those
that are either shallow in judgment or weak in courage, which are
the greatest part; yea and prevaileth with wise men at weak times.
Therefore we see it hath done wonders in popular states; but with
senates and princes less; and more ever upon the first entrance of
bold persons into action than soon after; for boldness is an ill keeper

32 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

of promise. Surely as there are mountebanks' for the natural body, so
are there mountebanks for the politic body; men that undertake great
cures, and perhaps have been lucky in two or three experiments, but
want the grounds of science, and therefore cannot hold out. Nay, you
shall see a bold fellow many times do Mahomet's miracle. Mahomet
made the people believe that he would call an hill to him, and from
the top of it offer up 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, // the hill will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to
the hill. So these men, when they have promised great matters and
failed most shamefully, yet (if they have the perfection of boldness)
they will but slight it over, and make a turn, and no more ado. Cer-
tainly to men of great judgment, bold persons are a sport to behold;
nay and to the vulgar also, boldness has somewhat of the ridiculous.
For if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you not but great
boldness is seldom without some absurdity. Especially it is a sport
to see, when a bold fellow is out of countenance; for that puts his
face into a most shrunken and wooden posture; as needs it must; for
in bashfulness the spirits do a little go and come; but with bold men,
upon like occasion, they stand at a stay; like a stale at chess, where
it is no mate, but yet the game cannot stir. But this last were fitter
for a satire than for a serious observation. This is well to be weighed;
that boldness is ever blind; for it seeth not dangers and inconveni-
ences. Therefore it is ill in counsel, good in execution; so that the
right use of bold persons is, that they never command in chief, but
be seconds, and under the direction of others. For in counsel it is
good to see dangers; and in execution not to see them, except they
be very great.

xm

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 human-
ity (as it is used) is a litde too light to express it. Goodness I call

' Quacks.

OF GOODNESS AND GOODNESS OF NATURE 33

the habit, and goodness of nature the incUnation. This of all vir-
tues and dignities of the mind is the greatest; being the character of
the Deity: and without it man is a busy, mischievous, wretched thing;
no better than a kind of vermin. Goodness answers to the theological
virtue charity, and admits no excess, but error. The desire of power
in excess caused the angels to fall; the desire of knowledge in excess
caused man to fall: but in charity there is no excess; neither can
angel nor man come in danger by it. The inclination to goodness is
imprinted deeply in the nature of man; insomuch that if it issue not
towards men, it will take unto other living creatures; as it is seen
in the Turks, a cruel people, who nevertheless are kind to beasts,
and give alms to dogs and birds; insomuch as Busbechius reporteth,
a Christian boy in Constantinople had like to have been stoned for
gagging in a waggishness a long-billed fowl. Errors indeed in this
virtue of goodness or charity may be committed. The Italians have
an ungracious proverb, Tanto buon che vol niente [So good, that
he is good for nothing]. And one of the doctors of Italy, Nicholas
Machiavel, had the confidence to put in writing, almost in plain
terms. That the Christian faith had git/en up good men in prey to
those that are tyrannical and unjust. Which he spake, because indeed
there was never law or sect or opinion did so much magnify good-
ness as the Christian religion doth. Therefore, to avoid the scandal
and the danger both, it is good to take knowledge of the errors of
an habit so excellent. Seek the good of other men, but be not in
bondage to their faces or fancies; for that is but facility or softness;
which taketh an honest mind prisoner. Neither give thou ^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 mal{eth his sun to shine upon the just and un-
just; 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 neighbors but the por-
traiture. 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

34 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 others. The lighter sort of malignity turneth but to a crossness,
or frowardness, or aptness to oppose, or difficilness,' or the like; but
the deeper sort to envy and mere mischief. Such men in other men's
calamities are, as it were, in season, and are ever on the loading part:
not so good as the dogs that licked Lazarus' sores; but like flies
that are still buzzing upon any thing that is raw; misanthropi [haters
of men], that make it their practice to bring men to the bough,^ and
yet 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, 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 thank-
ful 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 anathema* from Christ for the salvation of his
brethren, it shows much of a divine nature, and a kind of con-
formity with Christ himself,

XIV

OF NOBILITY

We will speak of nobility first as a portion of an estate,' then as
a condition of particular persons. A monarchy where there is no
'Moroseoess. 'To hang themselves. 'Accused. ^ State.

OF NOBILITY 35

nobility at all is ever a pure and absolute tyranny; as that of the
Turks. For nobility attempers sovereignty, and draws the eyes of the
people somewhat aside from the line royal. But for democracies,
they need it not; and they are commonly more quiet and less sub-
ject to sedition, than where there are stirps^ of nobles. For men'j
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 di-
versity of religion and of cantons. For utility is their bond, and not
respects.' The united provinces of the Low Countries in their gov-
ernment 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 majesty to a monarch, but dimin-
isheth power; and putteth life and spirit into the people, but presseth
their fortune. It is well when nobles are not too great for sovereignty
nor for justice; and yet maintained in that height, as the insolency
of inferiors may be broken upon them before it come on too fast
upon the majesty of kings. A numerous nobility causeth poverty
and inconvenience in a state; for it is a surcharge* of expense; and
besides, it being of necessity that many of the nobility fall in time
to be weak in fortune, it maketh a kind of disproportion between
honor and means.

As for nobility in particular persons; it is a reverend thing to see
an ancient casde 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 commonly
abateth industry; and he that is not industrious, envicth him that is.
Besides, noble persons cannot go much higher; and he that standeth
at a stay when others rise, can hardly avoid motions of envy. On
the other side, nobility extinguisheth the passive envy from others
^ Families. ' Consiticrations of rank. * Excess. ' Able.

36 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

towards them; because they are in possession of honor. Certainly,
kings that have able men of their nobility shall find ease in employ-
ing them, and a better slide into their business; for people naturally
bend to them, as born in some sort to command.

XV

OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES

Shepherds of people had need know the calendars' 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 caccos instare tumultus

Sscjje monet, fraudesque et operta tumescere bcUa.

[Of troubles imminent and treasons dark

Thence warning comes, and wars in secret gathering. Vtrgil'\

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

lUam Terra parens, ira irritata deorum,

Extremam (ut perhibent) Coeo Enceladoque sororem

Progenuit.

[Her, Parent Earth, furious with the anger of the gods, brought
forth, the youngest sister (as they affirm) of Coeus and Enceladus.]
As if fames^ were the relics of seditions past; but they are no less
indeed the preludes of seditions to come. Howsoever he noteth it
right, that seditious tumults and seditious fames differ no more but
as brother and sister, masculine and feminine; especially if it come
to that, that the best actions of a state, and the most plausible, and
which ought to give greatest contentment, are taken in ill sense, and
traduced: for that shows the envy great, as Tacitus saith; conflata
' Weather predictions. ' Rumors.

OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES 37

magna int/idia, seu bene seu male gesta premunt [when dislike pre-
vails against the government, good actions and bad offend alike].
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 Tacitus
speaketh of, is to be held suspected: Erant in officio, sed tamen qui
mallent mandata imperantium interpretari quam exequi [Ready to
serve, and yet more disposed to construe commands than execute
them]; disputing, excusing, cavilling upon mandates and directions,
is a kind of shaking off the yoke, and assay of disobedience;
especially if in those disputings they which are for the direc-
tion speak fearfully and tenderly, and those that are against it
audaciously.

Also, as Machiavel 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 accessory to a cause, and that
there be other bands that tie faster than the band of sovereignty,
kings begin to be put almost out of possession.

Also, when discords, and quarrels, and factions are carried openly
and audaciously, it is a sign the reverence of government is lost. For
the motions of the greatest persons in a government ought to be as
the motions of the planets under primum mobile;^ (according to the
old opinion), which is, that every of them is carried swiftly by the
highest motion, and softly in their own motion. And therefore,
when great ones in their own particular motion move violently, and,
as Tacitus expresseth it well, liberius quam ut imperantium me-
minissent [unrestrained by reverence for the government], it is a
sign the orbs are out of frame. For reverence is that wherewith

*In the old astronomy, the primum mobile (first moving) was the outer sphere,
whose motion from east to west dominated the motions of the inner spheres of the
planets.

38 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

princes are girt from God; who threateneth the dissolving thereof;
Solvam cingula regum [I will unbind the girdles of kings].

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 foUoweth); and let us speak first of the mate-
rials 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,

Hint usura vorax, rapidumque in tempore fcenus,
Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum.

[Hence estates eaten up by usurious rates of interest, and interest
greedy of time, hence credit shaken, and war a gain to many.]

This same multis utile bellum is an assured and infallible sign of
a state disposed to seditions and troubles. And if this poverty and
broken estate in the better sort be joined with a want and necessity
in the mean people, the danger is imminent and great. For the rebel-
lions 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 inflame. And let no prince measure
the danger of them by this, whether they be just or unjust: for that
were to imagine people to be too reasonable; who do often spurn
at their own good: nor yet by this, whether the griefs whereupon
they rise be in fact great or small: for they are the most dangerous
discontentments where the fear is greater than the feeling. Dolendi
modus, timendi non item [Suffering has its limit, but fears are end-
less]. Besides, in great oppressions, the same things that provoke the

* From hunger.

OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES 39

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 over divers times, yet may fall at last; and, as the Spanish prov-
erb noteth well. The cord breal^eth at the last by the weakest pull.

The causes and motives of seditions are, innovation in religion;
taxes; alteration of laws and customs; breaking of privileges; gen-
eral oppression; advancement of unworthy persons; strangers;
dearths; disbanded soldiers; factions grown desperate; and whatso-
ever, 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 manufactures; the
banishing of idleness; the repressing of waste and excess by sumptu-
ary' laws; the improvement and husbanding of the soil; the regulat-
ing of prices of things vendible; the moderating of taxes and trib-
utes; and the like. Generally, it is to be foreseen' that the population
of a kingdom (especially if it be not mown down by wars) do not
exceed the stock of the kingdom which should maintain them.
Neither is the population to be reckoned only by number; for a
smaller number that spend more and earn less do wear out an
estate sooner than a greater number that live lower and gather more.
Therefore the multiplying of nobility and other degrees of quality
in an over proportion to the common people doth speedily bring a
state to necessity; and so doth likewise an overgrown clergy; for
they bring nothing to the stock; and in like manner, when more
are bred scholars than preferments can take off.

It is likewise to be remembered, that forasmuch as the increase of

* Confound. • Free from care. ' Against extravagance.
* Guarded against beforehand.

40 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

any estate must be upon the foreigner (for whatsoever is somewhere
gotten is somewhere lost), there be but three things which one nation
selleth unto another; the commodity as nature yielded it; the manu-
facture; and the vecture, or carriage. So that if these three wheels
go, wealth will flow as in a spring tide. And it cometh many times
to pass, that materiam superabit opus; that the work and carriage is
more worth than the material, and enricheth a state more; as is
notably seen in the Low-Countrymen, who have the best mines
above ground in the world.

Above all things, good policy is to be used that the 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 suppress-
ing or at least keeping a strait hand upon the devouring trades of
usury, ingrossing' great pasturages, and the like.

For removing discontentments, or at least the danger of them;
there is in every state (as we know) two portions of subjects; the
noblesse and the commonalty. When one of these is discontent,
the danger is not great; for common people are of slow motion,
if they be not excited by the greater sort; and the greater sort are
of small strength, except the multitude be apt and ready to move of
themselves. Then is the danger, when the greater sort do but 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 hundred hands, to come in to his
aid. An emblem, no doubt, to show how safe it is for monarchs to
make sure of the good will of common people. To give moderate
liberty for griefs and discontentments to evaporate (so it be without
too great insolency or bravery), is a safe way. For he that turneth
the humors back, and maketh the wound bleed inwards, endanger-
eth malign ulcers and pernicious imposthumations.'"

The part of Epimetheus" mought well become Prometheus" in

the case of discontentments: for there is not a better provision against

them. Epimetheus, when griefs and evils flew abroad, at last shut

the lid, and kept hope in the bottom of the vessel. Certainly, the

'"Cornering." •• Abscesses. ** Afterthought. "Forethought.

OF SEDITIONS A>fD TROUBLES 4 1

politic and artificial nourishing and entertaining of hopes, and carry-
ing men from hopes to hopes, is one of the best antidotes against
the poison of discontentments. And it is a certain sign of a wise
government and proceeding, when it can hold men's hearts by
hopes, when it cannot by satisfaction; and when it can handle things
in such manner, as no evil shall appear so peremptory but that it
hath some outlet of hope; which is the less hard to do, because both
particular persons and factions are apt enough to flatter themselves,
or at least to brave that which they believe not.

Also the foresight and prevention, that there be no likely or fit
head whereunto discontented persons may resort, and under whom
they may join, is a known, but an excellent point of caution. I under-
stand a fit head to be one that hath greatness and reputation; that
hath confidence with the discontented party, and upon whom they
turn their eyes; and that is thought discontented in his own 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
divide 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.

I have noted that some witty and sharp speeches which have fallen
from princes have given fire to seditions. Caesar did himself infinite
hurt in that sjieech, Sylla nescivit literas, non potuit dictare [Sylla
was no scholar, he could not dictate]; for it did utterly cut off that
hof)e 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 [that he did not buy his soldiers, but
levied them]; 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 [If I live, the Roman empire shall have
no more need of soldiers] ; a speech of great despair for the soldiers.
And many the like. Surely princes had need, in tender matters and

u Qiftj of money.

42 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 intentions. For as for large discourses, they are flat
things, and not so much noted.

Lastly, let princes, against all events, not be without some great
person, one or rather more, of military 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 fuit, ut pessimum
f acinus auderent pauci, plttres vellent, omnes paterentur [A few were
in a humor to attempt mischief, more to desire, all to allow it]. But
let such military persons be assured, and well reputed of, rather than
factious and popular; holding also good correspondence with the
other great men in the state; or else the remedy is worse than the
disease.

XVI

OF ATHEISM

I HAD rather believe all the fables in the Legend,' and the Talmud,'
and the Alcoran,' than that this universal frame is without a mind.
And therefore God never wrought miracle to convince* atheism,
because his ordinary works convince it. It is true, that a little philos-
ophy inclineth man's mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy
bringeth men's minds about to religion. For while the mind of man
looketh upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them,
and go no further; but when it beholdeth the chain of them, con-
federate 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

' "The Golden Legend," a 13th century collection of sainti' lives.
• The body of Jewish traditional law. ' "The Koran," the sacred book of the
Mohammedans. * Refute.

OF ATHEISM 43

beauty without a divine marshal. The Scripture saith, The fool hath
said in his heart, there is no God; it is not said, The fool hath thought
in his heart; so as he rather saith it by rote to himself, as that he
would have, than that he can thoroughly believe it, or be 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 themselves, and would be glad to be strengthened by
the consent of others. Nay more, you shall have atheists strive to
get disciples, as it fareth with other sects. And, which is most of
all, you shall have of them that will suffer for atheism, and not re-
cant; whereas if they did truly think that there were no such thing
as God, why should they trouble themselves? Epicurus is charged
that he did but dissemble for his credit's sake, when he affirmed there
were blessed natures, but such as enjoyed themselves without hav-
ing respect to the government of the world. Wherein they say he did
temporize; though in secret he thought there was no God. But cer-
tainly he is traduced; for his words are noble and divine: Non deos
vulgi negare profanum; sed vulgi opiniones diis applicare profanum
[There is no profanity in refusing to believe in the gods of the
people: the profanity is in believing of the gods what the people
believe of them]. Plato could have said no more. And although he
had the confidence to deny the administration, he had not the power
to deny the nature. The Indians of the West have names for their
particular gods, though they have no name for God: as if the
heathens should have had the names Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, etc. but
not the word Deus; which shows that even those barbarous people
have the notion, though they have not the latitude and extent of it.
So that against atheists the very savages take part with the very
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 athe-
ists. But the great atheists indeed are hypocrites; which are ever
handling holy things, but without feeling; so as they must needs be

' Profiteth.

44 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

cauterized in the end. The causes of atheism are: divisions in
rehgion, 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 poptdus ut sacerdos
[One cannot now say the priest is as the people, for the truth is that
the people are not so bad as the priest]. A third is, custom of profane
scoffing in holy matters; which doth by little and little deface the
reverence of religion. And lastly, learned times, specially with peace
and prosperity; for troubles and adversities do more bow men's
minds to religion. They that deny a God destroy 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 example of a dog, and mark what a generosity and cour-
age he will put on when he finds himself maintained by a man; who
to him is instead of a God, or melior natura [better nature]; which
courage is manifesdy such as that creature, without that confidence
of a better nature than his own, could never attain. So man, when he
resteth and assureth himself upon divine protection and favor,
gathered a force and faith which human nature in itself could not
obtain. Therefore, as atheism is in all respects hateful, so in this,
that it depriveth human nature of the means to exalt itself above
human frailty. As it is in particular persons, so it is in nations.
Never was there such a state for magnanimity as Rome. Of this
state hear what Cicero saith: Quam volumus licet, patres conscripti,
nos amemus, tamen nee numero Hispanos, nee robore Gallos, nee
ealliditate Pcenos, nee artibus Grcecos, nee denique hoc ipso hujus
gentis et terrce domestico natii/oque sensu Italos ipsos et Latinos; sed
pietate, ac religione, atque hac una sapientia, quod deorum immor-
talium numine omnia regi gubernarique perspeximus, omnes gentes
nationesque superavimus [Pride ourselves as we may upon our coun-
try, yet are we not in number superior to the Spaniards, nor in
strength to the Gauls, nor in cunning to the Carthaginians, not to
the Greeks in arts, nor to the Italians and Latins themselves in the
homely and native sense which belongs to this nation and land; it
is in piety only and religion, and the wisdom of regarding the provi-

OF SUPERSTITION 45

dence of the immortal gods as that which rules and governs all
things, that we have surpassed all nations and f>eoples].

XVII

OF SUPERSTITION

It were better to have no opinion of God at all, than such an
opinion as is unworthy of him. For the one is unbelief, the other is
contumely; and certainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity.
Plutarch saith well to that purpose: Surely (saith he) I had rather a
great deal men should say there was no such man at all as 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 supersti-
tion 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 Caesar) were
civil' times. But superstition hath been the confusion of many states,
and bringeth in a new primum mobile^ that ravisheth all the spheres
of government. The master of superstition is the people; and in
all sujjerstition wise men follow fools; and arguments are fitted to
practice, in a reversed order. It was gravely said by some of the prel-
ates in the Council of Trent, where the doctrine of the Schoolmen
bare great sway, that the Schoolmen were like astronomers, which
did feign eccentrics and epicycles^ and such engines* of orbs, to sav^
the phenomena; though 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 cere-

' Peaceful. * See Essay xv., n. 3.

• According to the Ptolemaic astronomy, the planets moved in circles called epicy-
cles, the centers of which also moved in circles called eccentrics, because their centers
were outside the earth. * Machinery. ^ Account for.

46 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

monies; excess of outward and pharisaical holiness; over-great rev-
erence of traditions, which cannot but load the church; the strata-
gems of prelates for their own ambition and lucre; the favoring too
much of good intentions, which openeth the gate to conceits and
novelties; the taking an aim at divine matters by human, which
cannot but breed mixture of imaginations; and, lasdy, barbarous
times, especially joined with calamities and disasters. Superstition,
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 corrupteth
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 superstition
formerly received; therefore care would be had that (as it fareth in ill
purgings) the good be not taken away with the bad; which com-
monly is done when the people is the reformer.

XVIII

OF TRAVEL

Travel, in the younger sort, is a part of education; in the elder,
a part of experience. He that travelleth into a country before he hath
some entrance into the language, goeth to school, and not to 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
yieldeth. For else young men shall go hooded, and look abroad litde.
It is a strange thing, that in sea voyages, where there is nothing to
be seen but sky and sea, men should make diaries; but in land-travel,
wherein so much is to be observed, for the most part they omit it;
as if chance were fitter to be registered than observation. Let diaries
therefore be brought in use. The things to be seen and observed are:
the courts of princes, especially when they give audience to ambas-

' Approve.

OF TRAVEL 47

sadors; the courts of Justice, while they sit and hear causes; and so of
consistories ecclesiastic; the churches and monasteries, with the
monuments which are therein extant; the walls and fortifications of
cities and towns, and so the havens and 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; ware-
houses; exercises of horsemanship, fencing, training of soldiers, and
the like; comedies, such whereunto the better sort of persons do
resort; treasuries of jewels and robes; cabinets and rarities; and, to
conclude, whatsoever is memorable in the places where they go.
After all which the tutors or servants ought to make diligent inquiry.
As for triumphs, masks, feasts, weddings, funerals, capital execu-
tions, and such shows, men need not to be put in mind of them; yet
are they not to be neglected. If you will have a young man to put
his travel into a little room, and in short time to gather much, this
you must do. First, as was said, he must have some entrance into the
language before he 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 lodging from one end and part of
the town to another; which is a great adamant' of acquaintance. Let
him sequester himself from the company of his countrymen, and diet
in such places where there is good company of the nation where he
travelleth. Let him, upon his removes from one place to another,
procure recommendation to some person of quality residing in the
place 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
' Map. ' Loadstone.

48 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

abroad; that he may be able to tell how the life agreeth with the fame.
For quarrels, they are with care and discretion to be avoided. They
are commonly for mistresses, healths, place, and words. And let a
man beware how he keepeth company with choleric and quarrelsome
persons; for they will engage him into their own quarrels. When a
traveller returneth home, let him not leave the countries where he
hath travelled altogether behind him; but maintain a correspondence
by letters with those of his acquaintance which are of most worth.
And let his travel appear rather in his discourse than 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 minds
more languishing; and have many representations of {jerils 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; some-
times ufKjn erecting of an order; sometimes u{X)n 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, Com modus for playing at fence, Cara-
calla 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

OF EMPIRE 49

forward infinitely, but that they must have some check or arrest in
their fortunes, turn in their latter years to be superstitious and
melancholy; as did Alexander the Great; Diocletian; and in our
memory, Charles the Fifth; and others: for he that is used to go
forward, and findeth a stop, falleth out of his own favor, 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 temjjer 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 instruc-
tion. 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 certain it is that nothing destroyeth author-
ity 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 mis-
chiefs when they are near, than solid and grounded courses to keep
them aloof. But this is but to try masteries with fortune. And let
men beware how they neglect and suffer matter of trouble to be
prepared; for no man can forbid the spark, nor tell whence it may
come. The difficulties in princes' business are many and great; but
the greatest difficulty is often in their own mind. For it is common
with princes (saith Tacitus) to will contradictories, Sunt plerumque
regum voluntates vehementes, et inter se contrarice [Their desires are
commonly vehement and incompatible one with another]. 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 chil-
dren, their prelares or clergy, their nobles, their second-nobles or
gentlemen, their merchants, their commons, and their men of war;
and from all these arise dangers, if care and circumspection be not
used.

First for their 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

' Proportion. ' Absurd mistake.

50 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

ever grow so (by increase of territory, by embracing of trade, by
approaches, or the like), as they become more able to annoy them
than they were. And this is generally the work of standing counsels
to foresee and to hinder it. During that triumvirate of kings, King
Henry the Eighth of England, Francis the First King of France,
and Charles the Fifth Emperor, there was such a watch kept, that
none of the three could win a palm of ground, but the other two
would straightways balance it, either by confederation, or, if need
were, by a war; and would not in any wise take up f)eace at interest.
And the like was done by that league (which Guicciardini saith was
the security of Italy) made between Ferdinando King of Naples,
Lorenzius Medici, 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 precedent injury or provocation. For there is no question but a
just fear of an imminent danger, though there be no blow given, is
a lawful cause of a war.

For their wives; there are cruel examples of them. Livia is in-
famed for the poisoning of her husband; Roxalana, Solyman's wife,
was the destruction of that renowned prince Sultan Mustapha, and
otherwise troubled his house and succession; Edward the Second of
England his queen had the principal hand in the deposing and
murther of her husband. This kind of danger is then to be feared
chiefly, when the wives have plots for the raising of their own chil-
dren; or else that they be advoutresses.*

For their children; the tragedies likewise of dangers from them
have been many. And generally, the entering of fathers into sus-
picion of their children hath been ever unfortunate. The destruction
of Mustapha (that we named before) was so fatal to Solyman's line,
as the succession of the Turks from Solyman until this day is sus-
pected to be untrue, and of strange blood; for that Selymus the Sec-
ond was thought to be suppositious. The destruction of Crispus, a
young prince of rare towardness, by Constantinus the Great, his
father, was in like manner fatal to his house; for both Constantinus
and Constance, his sons died violent deaths; and Constantius, his
other son, did little better; who died indeed of sickness, but after

' Adulteresses.

OF EMPIRE 51

that Julianus had taken arms against him. The destruction of
Demetrius, son to Philip the Second of Macedon, turned upon the
father, who died of repentance. And many Hke examples there
are; but few or none where the fathers had good by such distrust;
except it were where the sons were up in ojjen 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, Archbishops of Canterbury; who with their croziers 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 any thing 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
diflficulties and troubles; for the nobility, though they continued loyal
unto him, yet did they not co-operate with him in his business. So
that in effect he was fain to do all things himself.

For their second-nobles; there is not much danger from them,
being a body dispersed. They may sometimes discourse high, but
that doth little hurt; besides, they are a counterpoise to the higher
nobility, that they grow 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 litde. Taxes and imposts upon them do seldom good to the

king's revenue; for that that he wins in the hundred he leeseth' in

the shire; the particular rates being increased, but the total bulk of

trading rather decreased.

* The "gate-vein," which Bacoa regarded as distributing nourishment to the body.

'Loseth.

52 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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

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

Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil times;
and which have much veneration, but no rest. All precepts concern-
ing kings are in effect comprehended in those two remembrances:
memento quod es homo; and memento quod es Deus, or vice Dei
[Remember that you are a man; and remember that you are a God,
or God's lieutenant]; 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 commit the
whole: by how much the more they are obliged to all faith and
integrity. The wisest princes need not think it any diminution to
their greatness, or derogation to their sufficiency, to rely upon coun-
sel. God himself is not without, but hath made it one of the great
names of his blessed Son: The Counsellor. Solomon hath pro-
nounced that in counsel is stability. Things will have their first or
second agitation: if they be not tossed upon the arguments of coun-
sel, they will be tossed upon the waves of fortune; and be full of
inconstancy, doing and undoing, like the reeling of a drunken man.
Solomon's son found the force of counsel, as his father saw the
necessity of it. For the beloved kingdom of God was first rent and
broken by ill counsel; upon which counsel there are set for our in-
struction the two marks whereby bad counsel is for ever best dis-
' Bodyguard of the Sultan. ^ Bodyguard of the Roman emperors.

OF COUNSEL 53

cerned; 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 other in that which follow-
eth, which was thus: They say, after Jupiter was married to Metis,
she conceived by him and was with child, but Jupiter suffered her
not to stay till she brought forth, but 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 counsel of state. That first they ought
to refer matters unto them, which is the first begetting or impregna-
tion; 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 counsel to go through with the resolution
and direction, as if it depended on them; but take the matter back
into their own hands, and make it appear to the world that the
decrees and final directions (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 counsel, 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 themselves. Thirdly, the danger of
being unfaithfully counselled, and more for the good of them that
counsel than of him that is counselled. For which inconveniences,
the doctrine of Italy, and practice of France, in some kings' times,
hath introduced cabinet^ counsels; a remedy worse than the disease.

As to secrecy; princes are not bound to communicate all matters
with all counsellors; but may extract and select. Neither is it neces-
sary that he that consulteth what he should do, should declare what
he will do. But let princes beware that the unsecreting of their affairs
comes not from themselves. And as for cabinet counsels, it may be

'Secret

54 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

their motto, plenus rimarum sum [I am full of leaks]: 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 counsels unpros-
perous; 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 be wise men, and especially true
and trusty to the king's ends; as it was with King Henry the Sev-
enth 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 counsel; neither was there ever prince bereaved of his
dependences by his counsel; 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 [he will not
find faith on the earth] is meant of the nature of times, and not of
all particular persons. There be that are in nature faithful, and
sincere, and plain, and direct; not crafty and involved; let princes,
above all, draw to themselves such natures. Besides, counsellors are
not commonly so united, but that one counsellor keepeth sentinel
over another; so that if any 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 suos.
[It is the greatest virtue of a prince to know his own.] And on the
other side, counsellors should not be too speculative* into their sov-
ereign's p)erson. 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 feed his humor. It is of singular use
to princes if they take the opinions of their counsel both separately
' Babbling. ' Helped. * Inquisitive.

OF COUNSEL 55

and together. For private opinion is more free; but opinion before
others is more reverent. In private, men are more bold in their own
humors; and in consort, men are more obnoxious" to others' humors;
therefore it is good to take both; and of the inferior sort rather in
private, to preserve freedom; of the greater rather in consort, to
preserve respect. It is in vain for princes to take counsel concerning
matters, if they take no counsel likewise concerning persons; for all
matters are as dead images; and the life of the execution of affairs
resteth in the good choice of persons. Neither is it enough to consult
concerning persons secundum genera [according to classes], as in an
idea, or mathematical description, what the kind and character of
the person should be; for the greatest errors are committed, and the
most judgment is shown, in the choice of individuals. It was truly
said, optimi consiliarii mortui [the best counsellors are the dead]:
books will speak plain when counsellors blanch.^ Therefore it is
good to be conversant in them, especially the books of such as them-
selves have been actors upon the stage.

The counsels 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 counsel. It were better that in causes of
weight, the matter were propounded one day and not spoken to
till the next day; in node consilium [night is the season for counsel].
So was it done in the Commission of Union between England and
Scodand; 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 [do this]. In choice of committees for ripening
business for the counsel, 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 wars, for suits, for some provinces; for where there be
divers particular counsels and but one counsel 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 counsels
out of their particular professions (as lawyers, seamen, mintmen,
and the like) be first heard before committees; and then, as occasion
' Subservient • Flatter. ^ Impartial.

56 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

serves, before the counsel. And let them not come in multitudes, or
in a tribunitious manner;' for that is to clamor counsels, not to in-
form 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
other form there is more use of the counsellors' opinions that sit
lower. A king, when he presides in counsel, let him beware how
he opens his own inclination too much in that which he propound-
eth; for else counsellors will but lake the wind of him, and instead
of giving free counsel, sing him a song of placebo* [I shall please].

XXI

OF DELAYS

Fortune is like the market; where many times, if you can stay
a little, the price will fall. And again, it is sometimes like Sibylla's
offer; which at first 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 locl{s in front, and no hold ta\en; 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 approaches; for if a man watch too long, it is odds he will
fall asleep. On the other side, to be deceived with too long shadows
(as some have been when the moon was low and shone on their
enemies' back), and so to shoot off before the time; or to teach
dangers to come on, by over early buckling towards them; is another
extreme. The ripeness or unripeness of the occasion (as we said)
must ever be well weighed; and generally it is good to commit the
beginnings of all great actions to Argus with his hundred eyes, and
the ends to Briareus with his hundred hands; first to watch, and then
to speed. For the helmet of Pluto, which maketh the^JitJC JUaxj'

'As demagogues. ^flattery. ^ Politkiia.

OF CUNNING 57

go invisible, is secrecy in the counsel and celerity in the execution.
For when things are once come to the execution, there is no secrecy
comparable to celerity; like the motion of a bullet in the air, which
flieth so swift as it outruns the eye.

XXII

OF CUNNING

We take cunning for a sinister or crooked wisdom. And cer-
tainly there is a 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 f)ersons, 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 con-
stitution 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 ambos nudos
ad ignotos, et videbis [Send them both naked to those they know
not, and you will see], doth scarce hold for them. And because these
cunning men are like haberdashers of small wares, it is not amiss to
set forth their shop.

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

Another is, that when you have anything to obtain of present
despatch, 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 mought^ the less
mind the bills.

' Bowling-alley. ' Might.

58 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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

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 anything 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 countenance
than you are wont; to the end to give occasion for the party to ask
what the matter is of the change? As Nehemias 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, relating to
Claudius the marriage of Messalina and Silius.

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

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

I knew another that, when he came to have sfseech, he would pass
over that that he intended most; and go forth, and come back again,
and speak of it as of 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 desirous to utter.

It is a point of cunning, to let fall those words in a man's own
name, which he would have another man learn and use, and there-
upon take advantage. I knew two that were competitors for the

' Questioned.

OF CUNNING 59

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 dis-
coursed with divers of his friends, that he had no reason to desire
to be secretary in the declination of a monarchy, The first man took
hold of it, and found means it was told the Queen; who hearing
of a declination of 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 negatives; as to say. This I do not; as Tigel-
linus did towards Burrhus, Se non diversas spes, sed incolumitatem
imperatoris simpliciter spectare [That he had not several hopes to
rest on, but looked simply to the safety of the Emperor.]

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.

It is strange how long some men will lie in wait to speak some-
what 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 sur-
prise 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

* Relations. * Desire. ' Gate or cake.

^St. Paul's Cathedral, then a fashionable promenade.

6o THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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

But certainly some there are that know the resorts and falls' of
business, that cannot sink into the main of it; like a house that
hath convenient stairs and entries, but never a fair room. There-
fore you shall see them find out pretty looses' in the conclusion, but
are no ways able to examine or debate matters. And yet commonly
they take advantage of their inability, and would be thought wits
of direction.'" Some build rather upon the abusing of others, and
(as we now say) putting tric/^^s upon them, than upon soundness
of their own proceedings. But Solomon saith, Prudens advertit ad
gressus suos; stultus divertit ad dolos [The wise taketh heed to his
steps; the fool turneth aside to deceits.]

XXIII

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 certainly men that are great lovers of
themselves waste the public. Divide with reason between self-love
and society; and be so true to thyself, as thou be not false to others;
specially to thy king and country. It is a poor centre of a man's
actions, himself. It is right earth.* For that only stands fast upon
his own centre; whereas all things that have affinity with the heavens
move upon the centre of another, which they benefit. The referring
of all to a man's self is more tolerable in a sovereign prince; because
themselves are not only themselves but their good and evil is at the
peril of the public fortune. But it is a desperate evil in a servant
to a prince, or a citizen in a republic. For whatsoever affairs pass such
a man's hands, he crooketh them to his own ends; which must
needs be often eccentric to' the ends of his master or state. There-
fore let princes, or states, choose such servants as have not this

' Entrances and exits. ' Shots. '" Clever at directing others. ' Mischievous.
' Precisely like the earth. Bacon here is thinking of the old astronomy, according
to which all the heavenly bodies moved round the earth.
' Have a different center from.

OF INNOVATIONS 6l

mark; except they mean their service should be made but the acces-
sory. That which maketh the effect more pernicious is that all pro-
portion is lost. It were disproportion enough for the servant's good
to be preferred before the master's; but yet it is a greater extreme,
when a little good of the servant shall carry things against a great
good of the master's. And yet that is the case of bad officers, treas-
urers, ambassadors, generals, and other false and corrupt servants;
which set a bias* upon their bowl, of their own petty ends and
envies, to the overthrow of their 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 an house on fire, and it
were but to roast their eggs; and yet these men many times hold
credit with their masters, because their study is but to please them
and profit themselves; and for either respect they will abandon the
good of their affairs.

Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches thereof, a depraved
thing. It is the wisdom of rats, that will be sure to leave a house
somewhat before it fall. It is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out
the badger, who digged and made room for him. It is the wisdom of
crocodiles, that shed tears when they would devour. But that which
is specially to be noted is, that those which (as Cicero says of
Pompey) are sui amantes, sine rivali [lovers of themselves without a
rival] 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 fortune, whose wings they sought by
their self-wisdom to have pinioned.

XXIV

OF INNOVATIONS

As the births of living creatures at first are ill-shapen, so are all
innovations, which are the births of time. Yet notwithstanding,
as those that first bring honor into their family are commonly more

*A weight let into one side, to make the bowl describe a curve. 'Scale.

62 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

worthy than most that succeed, so the first precedent (if it be good)
is seldom attained by imitation. For ill, to man's nature as it stands
perverted, hath a natural motion, strongest in continuance; but good,
as a forced motion, strongest at first. Surely every medicine is an
innovation; and he that will not apply new remedies must expect
new evils; for time is the greatest innovator; and if time of course'
alter things to the worse, and wisdom and counsel shall not alter
them to the better, what shall be the end? It is true, that what is
settled by custom, though it be not good, yet at least it is fit; and those
things which have long gone together are as it were confederate
within themselves; whereas new things piece not so well; but though
they help by their utility, yet they trouble by their inconformity.
Besides, they are like strangers; more admired and less 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 inno-
vations would follow the example of time itself; which indeed in-
novateth greatly, but quiedy, by degrees scarce to be perceived. For
otherwise, whatsoever is new is unlooked 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 the Scripture saith, that we make a stand upon the ancient
way, and then loof(_ about us, and discover what is the straight and
right way, and so to wall^ in it.

XXV

OF DISPATCH

Affected' dispatch is one of the most dangerous things to busi-
ness that can be. It is like that which the physicians call predigestion,
' By its course. ' Stubborn. ' Impairs. ' Excessively desired.

OF DISPATCH 63

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 advancement 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 business, 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. 1 knew a wise man
that had it for a by-word, when he saw men hasten to a conclusion,
Stay a little, that we may ma/^e an end the sooner.

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

Give good hearing to those that give the first information in
business; and rather direct them in the beginning than interrupt
them in the continuance of their speeches; for he that is put out of
his own order will go forward and backward, and 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 mod-
erator is more troublesome than the actor.

Iterations are commonly loss of time. But there is no such gain
of time as to iterate often the state of the question; for it chaseth
away many a frivolous speech as it is coming forth. Long and
curious' speeches are as fit for dispatch, as a robe or mande with a
long train is for race. Prefaces and passages,* and excusations, and
other speeches of reference to the person, are great wastes of time;
and though they seem to proceed of modesty, they are bravery.'
Yet beware of being too material' when there is an impediment
or obstruction in men's wills; for pre-occupation of mind ever

* Only apparently finished. ' Elaborate. ' Transitions. ' Showing oR.
' Coming too soon to the point.

64 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

requireth preface of speech; like a fomentation to make the unguent
enter.

Above all things, order, and distribution, and singling out of parts,
is the life of dispatch; so as the distribution be not too subtle: for
he that doth not divide will never enter well into business; and he
that divideth too much will never come out of it clearly. To choose
time is to save time; and an unseasonable motion is but beating the
air. There be three parts of business; the preparation, the debate or
examination, and the perfection. Whereof, if you look for 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 indefinite; as ashes are more generative than dust.

XXVI

OF SEEMING WISE

It hath been an opinion that the French are wiser than they seem,
and the Spaniards seem wiser than they are. But howsoever it be
between nations, certainly it is so between man and man. For as
the Apostle' saith of godliness. Having a show of godliness, but
denying the power thereof; so certainly there are in point of wisdom
and sufficiency, that do nothing or little very solemnly: magna
conatu nugas [with great effort, trifles]. It is ridiculous thing and
fit for a satire to persons of judgment, to see what shifts these
formalists have, and what prospectives^ to make superficies [a sur-
face] to seem body that hath depth, and bulk. Some are so close
and reserved, as they will not show their wares but by a dark light;
and seem always to keep back somewhat; and when they know
within themselves they speak of that they do not well know, would
nevertheless seem to others to know of that which they may not
well speak. Some help themselves with countenance and gesture,
and are wise by signs; as Cicero saith of Piso, that when he answered
him, he fetched one of his brows up to his forehead, and bent the
'St. Paul. ^Stereoscopes.

OF FRIENDSHIP 65

Other down to his chin; Respondes, altera ad frontem sublato, altera
ad mentum depresso supercilio, crudelitatem tibi nan placere [You
answer, with one eyebrow lifted to the forehead and the other low-
ered to the chin, that cruelty does not please you]. 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 imf)ertinent' or curious;' and so would have their
ignorance seem judgment. Some are never without a difference,
and commonly by amusing men with a subtility, blanch' the matter;
of whom A. Gellius saith, Hominem delirum,qui verborum minu-
tiis rerum jrangit pondera [A foolish man, that with verbal points
and niceties breaks up the mass of matter]. Of which kind also,
Plato in his Protagoras bringeth in Prodius in scorn, and maketh
him make a speech that consisteth of distinctions from the begin-
ning 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, 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 employ-
ment; for certainly you were better uke for business a man some-
what absurd' than over-formal.

XXVII

OF FRIENDSHIP

It had been hard for him that spake' it to have put more truth
and untruth together in few words, than in that speech. Whatso-
ever is delighted in solitude is either a u/ild beast or a god. For it
is most true that a natural and secret hatred and aversation towards

' Carry it off. * Assume what they can not prove. ' Irrelevant.

' Uselessly elaborate. ' Evade. • Secretly bankrupt. • Rough. ' Aristotle.

66 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 soltitude, but out
of a love and desire to sequester a man's self for a higher conversa-
tion:^ such as is found to have been falsely and feignedly in some
of the heathen; as Epimenides the Candian, Numa the Roman,
Empedodes 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 extend-
eth. 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
[A great town is a great solitude]; 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 beast, and
not from humanity.

A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and discharge of the
fulness and swellings of the heart, 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, flowers 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 whatso-
ever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or
confession.

It is a strange thing to observe how high a rate great kings and
monarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship whereof we speak:
so great, as they purchase it many times at the hazard of their own
safety and greatness. For princes, in regard of the distance of their
fortune from that of their subjects and servants, cannot gather this
' Intercourse. ' Sarsaparilla.

OF FRIENDSHIP 67

fruit, except (to make themselves capable thereof) they raise some
persons to be as it were companions and almost equals to themselves,
which many times sorteth to inconvenience. The modern languages
give unto such persons the name of favorites, or privadoes; as if it
were matter of grace, or conversation. But the Roman name attain-
eth the true use and cause thereof, naming them participes curarum
[partners of cares]; for it is that which tieth the knot. And we see
plainly that this hath been done, not by weak and passionate princes
only, but by the wisest and most politic that ever reigned; who have
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 Pompey (after sur-
named the Great) to that height, that Pompey vaunted himself for
Sylla's over-match. For when he had carried the consulship for a
friend of his, against the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a litde
resent thereat, and began to speak great, Pompey turned upon him
again, and in effect bade him be quiet; jor 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 Czsar
would have discharged the senate, in regard of some ill presages,
and specially a dream of Calpurnia; this man lifted him gendy by
the arm out of his chair, telling him he hojjed 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 ver-
batim in one of Cicero's Philippics, calleth him venerea, witch; as
if he had enchanted Caesar. Augustus raised Agrippa (though of
mean birth) to that height, as when he consulted with Marcenas
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 Cxsar, Sejanus had ascended to that height, as they
two were termed and reckoned as a pair of friends. Tiberius in a

68 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

letter to him saith, Hccc pro amicitid nostrd non occultavi [These
things, as our friendship required, I have not concealed from you];
and the whole senate dedicated an altar to Friendship, as to a god-
dess, 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: 7 love the
man so well, as I wish he may over-live me. Now if these princes
had been as a Trajan or a Marcus Aurelius, a man might have
thought that this had proceeded of an abundant goodness of nature;
but being men so wise, of such strength and severity of mind, and
so extreme lovers of themselves, as all these were, it proveth most
plainly that they found their own felicity (though as great as ever
happened to mortal men) but as an half piece,* except they mought
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 observeth of his first
master, Duke Charles the Hardy; namely, that he would communi-
cate 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 under-
standing. Surely Comineus mought have made the same judgment
also, if it had pleased him, of his second master, Lewis the Eleventh,
whose closeness was indeed his tormentor. The parable' of Pythag-
oras is dark, but true; Cor ne edito; Eat not the heart. Certainly, if
a man would give it a hard phrase, those that want friends to open
themselves unto are cannibals of their own hearts. But one thing is
most admirable (wherewith I will conclude this first fruit of 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

* Coin cut in two. * Sccretiveness. • Proverb.

OF FRIENDSHIP 69

upon a man's mind, of like virtue as the alchemists use to attribute
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 alchemists, there is a manifest image of this in the ordinary
course of nature. For in bodies, union strengthened and cherisheth
any natural action; and on the other side weakeneth and dulleth any
violent impression: and even so it is of minds.

The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sovereign for the
understanding, as the first is for the affections. For friendship
maketh indeed a fair day in the affections, from storm and tem-
pests; but it maketh daylight in the understanding, out of darkness
and confusion of thoughts. Neither is this to be understood only
of faithful counsel, which a man receiveth from his friend; but
before you come to that, certain it is that whosoever hath his mind
fraught with many thoughts, his wits and understanding do clarify
and break up, in the communicating and discoursing with another;
he tosseth his thoughts more easily; he marshalleth them more
orderly; he seeth how they look when they are turned into words:
finally, he waxeth wiser than himself; and that more by an hour's
discourse than by a day's meditation. It was well said by Themis-
tocles to the king of Persia, That speech was li]{e cloth of Arras,
opened and put abroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in figured
whereas in thoughts they lie but as in pac/^s. Neither is this second
fruit of friendship, in opening the understanding, 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 bring-
eth 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 statua 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 observa-
tion; which is faithful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus saith well
in one of his enigmas. Dry light is ever the best. And certain it is,
that the light that a man receiveth by counsel from another is drier

' The "philosopher's stone." ' Fully displayed. * Suppressed.

70 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

and purer than that which cometh from his own understanding 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 concerning 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, sometime, too piercing and corrosive.
Reading good books of morality is a little flat and dead. Observ-
ing our faults in others is sometimes improper for our case. But
the best receipt (best, I say, to work, and best to take) is the admoni-
tion 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 dam-
age both of their fame and fortune: for, as St. James saith, they are
as men that loo){ 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 than a looker-on; or that a man in anger is as wise as he that
hath said over the four and twenty letters; or that a musket may be
shot off as well upon the arm as upon a rest; and such other fond and
high imaginations, to think himself all in all. But when all is done,
the help of good counsel is that which setteth business straight. And
if any man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be by pieces;
asking counsel in one business of one man, and in another business
of another man; it is well (that is to say, better perhaps than if he
asked none at all); but he runneth two dangers: one, that he shall
not be faithfully counselled; for it is a rare thing, except it be from
a fjerfect 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

OF FRIENDSHIP 7I

unacquainted with your body; and therefore may put you in way
for a present cure, but overthroweth your health in some other kind;
and so cure the disease and kill the patient. But a friend that is
wholly acquainted with a man's estate will beware, by furthering
any present business, how he dasheth upon other inconvenience.
And therefore rest not upon scattered counsels; they will rather dis-
tract and mislead, than settle and direct.

After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace in the affections,
and support of the judgment), foUoweth the last fruit; which is like
the pomegranate, full of many kernels; 1 mean aid and bearing a
part in all actions and occasions. Here the best way to represent to
life the manifold use of friendship is to cast and see how many things
there are which a man cannot do himself; and then it will appear
that it was a sparing speech of the ancients, to say, that a friend is
another himself; for that a friend is far more than himself. Men
have their time, and die many times in desire of some things which
they principally take to heart; the bestowing" of a child, the finish-
ing of a work, or the like. If a man have a true friend, he may rest
almost secure that the care of those things will continue after him.
So that a man hath, as it were, two lives in his desires. A man hath
a body, and that body is confined to a place; but where friendship is,
all offices of life are as it were granted to him and his deputy. For
he may exercise them by his friend. How many things are there
which a man cannot, with any face or comeliness, say or do himself?
A man can scarce allege his own merits with modesty, much less
extol them; a man cannot sometimes brook to supplicate or beg; and
a number of the like. But all these things are graceful in a friend's
mouth, which are blushing in a man's own. So again, a man's per-
son 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 enumer-
ate 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.

'"Settling in life.

72 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

XXVIII

OF EXPENSE

Riches are for spending, and spending for honor and good actions.
Therefore extraordinary expense must be Umited by the worth of
the occasion; for voluntary undoing may be as well for a man's
country as for the kingdom of heaven. But ordinary expense ought
to be limited by a man's estate; and governed with such regard, as
it be within his compass; and not subject to deceit and abuse' of
servants; and ordered to the best show, that the bills may be less
than the estimation abroad. Certainly, if a man will keep but of even
hand, his ordinary expenses ought to be but to the half of his receipts;
and if he think to wax rich, but to the third part. It is no baseness
for the greatest to descend and look into their own estate. Some for-
bear it, not upon negligence alone, but doubting to bring themselves
into melancholy, in respect they shall find it broken.' But wounds
cannot be cured without searching. He that cannot look into his own
estate at all, had need both choose well those whom he employeth,
and change them often; for new are more timorous and less subde.
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 ex-
penses of all kinds will hardly be preserved from decay. In clear-
ing of a man's estate, he may as well hurt himself in being too sud-
den, 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 cus-
toms: 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 com-
monly it is less dishonorable to abridge petty charges, than to stoop
to petty gettings. A man ought warily to begin charges which once
begun will continue; but in matters that return not he may be more
magnificent.

' Cheating. ' Bankrupt.

OF THE TRUE GREATNESS OF KINGDOMS 73

XXIX

OF THE TRUE GREATNESS OF KINGDOMS 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
maf^e a small town a great city. These words (holpen a little with
a metaphor) may express two differing abilities in those that deal
in business of estate. For if a true survey be taken of counsellors
and statesmen, there may be found (though rarely) those which
can make a small state great, and yet cannot fiddle; as on the other
side, there will be found a great many that can fiddle very cun-
ningly, 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 flourish-
ing estate to ruin and decay. And certainly those degenerate arts
and shifts, whereby many counsellors and governors gain both
favor with their masters and estimation with the vulgar, deserve
no better name than fiddling; being things rather pleasing for the
time, and graceful to themselves only, than tending to the weal and
advancement of the state which they serve. There are also (no
doubt) counsellors and governors which may be held sufficient
(negotiis pares [equals in business]), 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
over-measuring their forces, they leese' themselves in vain enter-
prises; 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 num-
ber and greatness of cities and towns by cards' and maps. But yet

' Lose. ' Charts.

74 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

there is not any thing amongst civil affairs more subject to error
than the right valuation and true judgment concerning the power
and forces of an estate. The kingdom of heaven is compared, not
to any great kernel or nut, but to a grain of mustard-seed: 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
monarchies.

Walled towns, stored arsenals and armories, goodly races of horse,
chariots of war, elephants, ordnance, artillery, and the like; all this
is but a sheep in a lion's skin, except the breed and disposition of
the people be stout and warlike. Nay, number (itself) in armies
importeth not much, where the people 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 astonish the commanders in Alexander's
army; who came to him therefore, and wished him to set upon
them by night; but he answered. He would not pilfer the victory.
And the defeat was easy. When Tigranes the Armenian, being en-
camped upon a hill with four hundred thousand men, discovered
the army of the Romans, being not above fourteen thousand, march-
ing towards him, he made himself merry with it, and said. Yonder
men are too many for an embassage, 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 trivi-
ally' said), where the sinews of men's arms, in base and effeminate
people, are failing. For Solon said well to Croesus (when in ostenta-
tion he showed him his gold). Sir, if any other come that hath better
iron than you, he will be master of all this gold. Therefore let any
prince or state think soberly of his forces, except his militia of natives
be of good and valiant soldiers. And let princes, on the other side,
that have subjects of martial disposition, know their own strength;

' Conunooly.

OF THE TRUE GREATNESS OF KINGDOMS 75

unless they be otherwise wanting unto themselves. As for merce-
nary forces (which is the help in this case), all examples show that
whatsoever estate or prince doth rest upon them, he may spread
his feathers for a time, but he will mew them soon after.

The blessing of Judah and Issachar will never meet; that the
same people or nation should be both the lion's whelp and the ass
between burthens; 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
gendemen do multiply too fast. For that maketh the common sub-
ject grow to be a p)easant 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 staddles* too thick, you shall never have
clean underwood, but shrubs and bushes. So in countries, if the
gentlemen be too many, the commons will be base; and you will
bring it to that, that not the hundred poll* will be fit for an helmet;
especially as to the infantry, which is the nerve' of an army; and so
there will be great population and little strength. This which I
speak of hath been nowhere better seen than by comparing of Eng-
land and France; whereof England, though far less in territory and
population, hath been (nevertheless) an over-match; in regard the
middle people of England make good soldiers, which the peasants
of France do not. And herein the device of king Henry the Seventh
(whereof I have spoken largely in the History of his Life) was pro-
found and admirable; in making farms and houses of husbandry of
a standard; that is, maintained with such a proportion of land unto
them, as may breed a subject to live in convenient plenty and no
servile condition; and to keep the plough in the hands of the owners,
* Young trees left standing. ^ Hundredth head. ' Sinew.

y6 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

and not mere hirelings. And thus indeed you shall attain to Virgil's
character which he gives to ancient Italy:

Terra potens armis atque ubere glebac.

[A land powerful in arms and in productiveness of soil.] Neither
is that state (which, for any thing I know, is almost peculiar to
England, and hardly to be found anywhere else, except it be per-
haps in Poland) to be passed over; I mean the state of free servants
and attendants upon noblemen and gentlemen; which are no ways
inferior unto the yeomanry for arms. And therefore out of all
question, the splendor and magnificence and great retinues and
hospitality of noblemen and gentlemen, received into custom, doth
much conduce unto martial greatness. Whereas, contrariwise, the
close and reserved living of noblemen and gentlemen causeth a
penury of military forces.

By all means it is to be procured, that the trunk of Nebuchadnez-
zar'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 gov-
ern. Therefore all states that are liberal of naturalization towards
strangers are fit for empire. For to think that an handful of people
can, with the greatest courage and policy in the world, embrace too
large extent of dominion, it may hold for a time, but it will fail
suddenly. The Spartans were a nice' people in point of naturaliza-
tion; whereby, while they kept their compass, they stood firm; but
when they did spread, and their boughs were becomen too great
for their stem, they became a windfall upon the sudden. Never any
state was in this point so open to receive strangers into their body
as were the Romans. Therefore it sorted with them accordingly;
for they grew to the greatest monarchy. Their manner was to
grant naturalization (which they called jus civitatis [the right of
citizenship]), and to grant it in the highest degree; that is, not only
jus commercii [the right to commercial trade], jus connubii [the
right to intermarry], jus hcereditatis [the right of inheritance]; but
also jus suffragii [the right of suffrage], and jus honorum [the right
of holding office]. And this not to singular persons alone, but like-
' Daniel iv. lo. 'Particular.

OF THE TRUE GREATNESS OF KINGDOMS 77

wise 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 indifferently all nations in their militia of ordinary soldiers;
yea and sometimes in their highest commands. Nay it seemeth at
this instant they are sensible of this want of natives; as by the Prag-
matical 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 contrariety to a military disposition. And generally,
all warlike people are a litde idle and love danger better than travail.
Neither must they be too much broken of it, if they shall be pre-
served 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 greater part, by the Christian law. That which cometh
nearest to it is to leave those arts chiefly to strangers (which for that
purpose are the more easily to be received), and to contain the
principal bulk of the vulgar natives within those three kinds, — tillers
of the ground; free servants; and handicraftsmen of strong and
manly arts, as smiths, masons, carpenters, etc.; not reckoning pro-
fessed soldiers.

But above all, for empire and greatness, it importeth most, that a
nation do profess arms as their principal honor, study, and occupa-
tion. For the things which we formerly have spoken of are but
habilitations towards arms; and what is habilitation without inten-
tion and act? Romulus, after his death (as they report or feign), sent

•a decree "which gave ceruin privileges to persons who married, and further
immunities to those who had six children."

78 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

a present to the Romans, that above all they should intend'" arms;
and then they should prove the greatest empire of the world. The
fabric of the state of Sparta was wholly (though not wisely) framed
and composed to that scope and end. The Persians and Macedonians
had it for a flash. The Gauls, Germans, Goths, Saxons, Normans,
and others, had it for a time. The Turks have it at this day, though
in great declination. Of Christian Europe, they that have it are, in
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 greatness fall into their mouths. And
on the other side, it is a most certain oracle of time, that those states
that continue long in that profession (as the Romans and Turks
principally have done) do wonders. And those that have professed
arms but for an age, have notwithstanding commonly attained that
greatness in that age which maintained them long after, when their
profession and exercise of arms hath grown to decay.

Incident to this {xjint is, for a state to have those laws or customs
which may reach forth unto them just occasions (as may be pre-
tended) of war. For there is that justice imprinted in the nature of
men, that they enter not uf)on wars (whereof so many calamities do
ensue) but upon some, at the least specious, grounds and quarrels.
The Turk hath at hand, for cause of war, the propagation of his
law or sect; a 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 pre-
tend to greatness have this; that they be sensible of" wrongs, either
up)on borderers, merchants, or pwlitic ministers; and that they sit not
too long upon a provocation. Secondly, let them be prest'* and
ready to give aids and succors to their confederates; as it ever was
with the Romans; insomuch, as if the confederate had leagues de-
fensive with divers other states, and, upon invasion offered, did
implore their aids severally, yet the Romans would ever be the fore-
most, and leave it to none other to have the honor. As for the wars
which were anciendy made on the behalf of a kind of party, or
*' Pay aRendon to. " Sensitive to. " Prepared.

OF THE TRUE GREATNESS OF KINGDOMS 79

tacit conformity of estate, I do not see how they may be well justi-
fied: as when the Romans made a war for the liberty of Grecia; or
when the Lacedaemonians and Athenians made wars to set up or
pull down democracies and oligarchies; or when wars were made by
foreigners, under the pretence of justice or protection, to deliver the
subjects of others from tyranny and oppression; and the like. Let it
suiSce, that no estate expect to be great, that is not awake upon any
just occasion of arming.

No body can be healthful without exercise, neither natural body
nor politic; and certainly to a kingdom or estate, a just and honor-
able war is the true exercise. A civil war, indeed, is like the heat of
a fever; but a foreign war is like the heat of exercise, and serveth
to keep the body in health; for in a slothful peace, both courages
will effeminate and manners corrupt. Hut 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 six score years.

To be master of the sea is an abridgment" of a monarchy. Cicero,
writing to Atticus of Pomp)ey his preparation against Ca'sar, saith.
Consilium Pompeii plane Themistocleum est; putat enim, qui mari
potitur, eum rerum potiri [Pompey is going upon the policy of
Themistocles; thinking that he who commands the sea commands
all]. And, without doubt, Pompey had tired out Cxsar, if upon
vain confidence he had not left that way. We see the great effects
of battles by sea. The battle of Actium decided the empire of the
world. The battle of Lepanto 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 much is certain, that he that commands the
sea is at great liberty, and may take as much and as little of the war
as he will. Whereas those that be strongest by land are many times
nevertheless in great straits. Surely, at this day, with us of Europe,
" "A moQarchy in miniature."

8o THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 accessory 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 reflected 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 soldiers; and some remem-
brance perhaps upon the scutcheon; and some hospitals for maimed
soldiers; and such like things. But in ancient times, the trophies
erected upon the place of the victory; the funeral laudatives and
monuments for those that died in the wars; the crowns and garlands
personal; the style of emperor, which the great kings of the world
after borrowed; the triumphs of the generals upon their return; the
great donatives and largesses uf)on 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 per-
haps 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 them-
selves and their sons, for such wars as they did achieve in person; and
left only, for wars achieved by subjects, some triumphal garments
and ensigns to the general.

To conclude: no man can by care taking (as the Scripture saith)
add a cubit to his stature, in this little model of a man's body; but
in the great frame of kingdoms and commonwealths, it is in the
power of princes or estates to add amplitude and greatness to their
kingdoms; 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 commonly not
observed, but left to uke their chance.

OF REGIMENT OF HEALTH 8l

XXX

OF REGIMENT 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, / 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 coming on of years, and
think not to do the same things still; for age will not be defied.
Beware of sudden change in any great point of diet, and if necessity
inforce 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
litde; but so, as if thou dost find any 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 in-
wards; subtle and knotty inquisitions; joys and exhilarations in
excess; sadness not communicated. Entertain hopes; mirth rather
than joy; variety of delights, rather than surfeit of them; wonder
and admiration, and therefore novelties; studies that fill the mind
with splendid and illustrious objects, as histories, fables, and con-
templations 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 commend rather some diet for certain seasons, than fre-
quent use of physic, except it be grown into a custom. For those
diets alter the body more and trouble it less. Despise no new acci-
dent in your body, but ask opinion of it. In sickness, respect health
principally; and in health, action. For those that put their bodies

82 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

to endure in health, may in most sicknesses, which are not very
sharp, be cured only with diet and tendering.' Celsus could never
have spoken it as a physician, had he not been a wise man withal,
when he giveth it for one of the great precepts of health and lasting,
that a man do vary and interchange contraries, but with an inclina-
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 cher-
ished, 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 suffi-
ciently 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 SUSPICION

Suspicions amongst thoughts are like bats amongst birds, they
ever fly by twilight. Certainly they are to be repressed, or at least
well guarded: for they cloud the mind; they leese' friends; and
they check with business, whereby business cannot go on currently
and constantly. They dispose kings to tyranny, husbands to jealousy,
wise men to irresolution and melancholy. They are defects, not
in the heart, but in the brain; for they take place in the stoutest'
natures; as in the example of Henry the Seventh of England. There
was not a more suspicious man, nor a more stout. And in such a
composition they do small hurt. For commonly they are not ad-
mitted, 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
' Nursing. ^ Ability. ' Lose. * Bravest. ' Suppressed.

OF DISCOURSE 83

think they will have their own ends, and be truer to themselves than
to them? Therefore there is no better way to moderate suspicions,
than to account upon such suspicions as true and yet to bridle them
as false. For so far a man ought to make use of suspicions, as to
provide, as if that should be true that he suspects, yet it may do him
no hurt. Suspicions that the mind of itself gathers are but buzzes; but
suspicions that are artificially nourished, and put into men's heads by
the tales and whisperings of others, have stings. Certainly, the best
mean to clear the way in this same wood of suspicions is frankly
to communicate them with the party that he suspects; for thereby
he shall be sure to know more of the truth of them than he did
before; and withal shall make that party more circumspect not to
give further cause of suspicion. But this would not be done to men
of base natures; for they, if they find themselves once susp)ected, will
never be true. The Italian says, Sospetto licentia fede;* as if suspicion
did give a passport to faith; but it ought rather to kindle it to
discharge itself.

XXXII

OF DISCOURSE

Some in their discourse desire rather commendation of wit, in
being able to hold all arguments, than of judgment, in discerning
what is true; as if it were a praise to know what might be said, and
not what should be thought. Some have certain common places
and themes wherein they 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 discourse and speech of conversation, to
vary and intermingle sf)eech 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,

* I. e., suspicion justifies breaking faith. ' Guide the discussion.

' Tire with oTcrdriving,

84 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 somewhat that is piquant, and to
the quick. That is a vein which would be bridled:

Parte, puer, stimulis, et fortius utere loris.

[Spare, boy, the whip and tighter hold the reins.] 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 espe-
cially if he apply his questions to the skill of the persons whom he
asketh; for he shall give them occasion to please themselves in speak-
ing, and himself shall continually gather knowledge. But let his
questions not be troublesome; for that is fit for a poser.' And let
him be sure to leave other men their turns to speak. Nay, if there
be any that would reign and take up all the time, let him find means
to take them off, and to bring others on; as musicians use to do with
those that dance too long galliards. If you dissemble sometimes your
knowledge of that you are thought to know, you shall be thought
another time to know that you know not. Speech of a man's self
ought to be seldom, and well chosen. I knew one was wont to
say in scorn. He must needs be a wise man, he speaks so much of
himself: and there is but one case wherein a man may commend
himself with good grace; and that is in commending virtue in
another; especially if it be such a virtue whereunto himself pre-
tendeth. 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, / 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 good words or in good order. A good
' Examiner. * Personal, touching a sore spot. ' Scornful jest.

OF PLANTATIONS 85

continued speech, without a good speech of interlocution, shows
slowness: and a good reply or second speech, without 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 cir-
cumstances ere one come to the matter, is wearisome; to use none at
all, is blunt.

XXXIII

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 plantation 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. Planting of
countries is like planting of woods; for you must make account to
leese' almost twenty years' profit, and expect your recompense in
the end. For the principal thing that hath been the destruction of
most plantations, hath been the base and hasty drawing of profit in
the first years. It is true, speedy profit is not to be neglected, as far
as 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, laborers, smiths, carpenters,
joiners, fishermen, fowlers, with some few apothecaries, surgeons,
cooks, and bakers. In a country of plantation, first look about what
kind of victual the country yields of itself to hand; as chestnuts,
walnuts, pineapples, 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 Hierusalem,
' Colonies. ' Lose. ' Send word.

86 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 rice likewise cometh a great increase, and it is a kind of meat.
Above all, there ought to be brought store of biscuit, oat-meal, flour,
meal, and the like, in the beginning, till bread may be had. For
beasts, or birds, take chiefly such as are least subject to diseases, and
multiply fastest; as swine, goats, cocks, hens, turkeys, geese, house-
doves, and the like. The victual in plantations ought to be expended
almost as in a besieged town; that is, with certain allowance. And
let the main part of the ground employed to gardens or corn, be to a
common stock; and to be laid in, and stored up, and then delivered
out in proportion; besides some spots of ground that any particular
person will manure for his own private. Consider likewise what
commodities the soil where the plantation is doth naturally yield,
that they may some way help to defray the charge of the plantation
(so it be not, as was said, to the untimely prejudice of the main
business), as it hath fared with tobacco in Virginia. Wood com-
monly 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. Growing
silk likewise, if any be, is a likely commodity. Pitch and tar, where
store of firs and pines are, will not fail. So drugs and sweet woods,
where 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 let them have
commission to exercise martial laws, with some limitation. And
above all, let men make that profit of being in the wilderness, as
they have God always, and his service, before their eyes. Let not
the government of the plantation depend up)on too many counsel-
lors and undertakers in the country that planteth, but upon a tem-
perate number; and let those be rather noblemen and gendemen,
than merchants; for they look ever to the present gain. Let there be
* Fine. ' Drudge.

OF RICHES 87

freedom from custom,* till the plantation be of strength; and not
only freedom from custom, but freedom to carry their commodities
where they may make their best of them, except there be some
special cause of caution. Cram not in f)eople, by sending too fast
company after company; but rather barken how they waste, and
send supplies propwrtionably; but so as the number may live well in
the plantation, and not by surcharge' be in penury. It hath been a
great endangering to the health of some plantations, that they have
built along the sea and rivers, in marish and unwholesome grounds.
Therefore, though you begin there, to avoid carriage and other like
discommodities, yet build still rather upwards from the streams than
along. It concerneth likewise the health of the plantation that they
have good store of salt with them, that they may use it in their
victuals, when it shall be necessary. If you plant where savages are,
do not only entertain them with trifles and gingles, but use them
justly and graciously, with sufficient guard nevertheless; and do
not win their 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 see a better condition than their own, and
commend it when they return. When the plantation grows to
strength, then it is time to plant with women as well as with men;
that the plantation may spread into generations, and not be ever
pieced from without. It is the sinfuUest thing in the world to for-
sake or destitute a plantation once in forwardness; for besides the
dishonor, it is the guiltiness of blood of many commiserable' persons.

XXXIV

OF RICHES

I CANXOT call 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 hinder-
eth the march; yea, and the care of it sometimes loseth or disturb-
eth 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
' Duties on imports and exports. ' Overloading. ' Deserving pity.

88 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

but the sight of it with his eyes? The personal fruition in any man
cannot reach to feel great riches: there is a custody of them; or a
power of dole and donative of them; or a fame of them; but no
solid use to the owner. Do you not see what feigned prices are set
upon little stones and rarities? and what works of ostentation are
undertaken, because there might seem to be some use of great riches?
But then you will say, they may be of use to buy men out of dangers
or troubles. As Solomon saith. Riches are as a strong hold, in the
imagination of the rich man. But this is excellendy expressed, 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, distribute
cheerfully, and leave contentedly. Yet have no abstract nor friarly
contempt of them. But distinguish, as Cicero saith well of Rabirius
Posthumus, In studio rei amplificandee apparebat, non avaritite
pradam, sed instrumentum bonitati quceri [In seeking to increase
his estate it was apparent that he sought not a prey for avarice to
feed on, but an instrument for goodness to work with]. Harken
also to Solomon, and beware of hasty gathering of riches; Qui
jestinat ad divitias, non erit insons [ He that maketh haste to be rich
shall not be innocent]. 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
mought be applied likewise to Pluto, taking him for the devil. For
when riches come from the devil (as by fraud and oppression and
unjust means), they come upon speed. The ways to enrich are many,
and most of them foul. Parsimony is one of the best, and yet is
not innocent; for it withholdeth men from works of liberality and
charity. The improvement of the ground is the most natural obtain-
ing of riches; for it is our great mother's blessing, the earth's; but
it is slow. And yet where men of great wealth do stoop to husbandry,
it multiplieth riches exceedingly. I knew a nobleman in England,
that had the greatest audits' of any man in my time; a great grazier,

' Revenues.

OF RICHES 89

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 litde riches, and very easily to
great riches. For when a man's stock is come to that, that he can
expect the prime of markets, and overcome those bargains which for
their greatness are few men's money, and be partner in the industries
of younger men, he cannot but increase mainly. The gains of ordi-
nary trades and vocations are honest; and furthered by two things
chiefly: by diligence, and by a good name for good and fair deal-
ing. But the gains of bargains are of a more doubtful nature; when
men shall wait upon* others' necessity, broke' by servants and instru-
ments to draw them on, put off others cunningly that would be better
chapmen,* 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 sudors
vultus alieni [in the sweat of another man's face]; and besides, doth
plough upon Sundays. But yet certain though it be, it hath flaws;
for that the scriveners and brokers do value' unsound men to serve
their own turn. The fortune in being the first in an invention or in
a privilege doth cause sometimes a wonderful overgrowth in riches;
as it was with the first sugar man in the Canaries. Therefore if a
man can play the true logician, to have as well judgment as inven-
tion, he may do great matters; especially if the times be fit. He
that resteth upon gains certain shall hardly grow to great riches; and
he that puts all upon adventures doth oftentimes break and come
to poverty : it is good therefore to guard adventures with certainties,
that may uphold losses. Monopolies, and coemption of wares for
re-sale, where they are not restrained, are great means to enrich;
especially if the party have intelligence what things are like to come
into request, and so store himself beforehand. Riches gotten by

* Watch for. * Deal. * Traders. * Represent as sound.
• Buying up.

90 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 ex-
ecutorships (as Tacitus saith of Seneca, testamenta et orbos tamquam
indagine capi [he took testaments and wardships as with a net]),
it is yet worse; by how much men submit themselves to meaner per-
sons 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 judgment. Likewise glorious' gifts and foundations are
like sacrifices without salt; and but the painted sepulchres of alms,
which soon will putrefy and corrupt inwardly. Therefore measure
not thine advancements by quantity, but frame them by measure:
and defer not charities till death; for, certainly, if a man weigh it
rightly, he that doth so is rather liberal of another man's than of
his own.

XXXV

OF PROPHECIES

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

At domus .(Eneac cunctis dominabitur oris,
Et nati natorum, et qui nascentur ab illis.

[ But the house of ^neas shall reign in all lands, and his children's
children, and their generations.] A prophecy, as it seems, of the
Roman empire. Seneca the tragedian hath these verses:

7 Latin, though it have a certain dignity. ' Showy. ' Witch of Endor.

OF PROPHECIES 9I

Venient annis

Sxcula seris, quibus Oceanus
Vincula rerum laxet, et ingens
Pateat Tellus, Tiphysque novos
Detegat orbes; nee sit terris
Ultima Thule

[There shall come a time when the bands of ocean shall be loosened,
and the vast earth shall be laid open; another Tiphys shall disclose
new worlds, and lands shall be seen beyond Thule] : a prophecy of
the discovery of America. The 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 [Thou shall see me again
at Philippi]. Tiberius said to Galba, T« quoque, Galba, degustabis
imperitim [Thou likewise, Galba, shall taste of empire]. In Ves-
pasian'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 Savior; yet Tacitus 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 England said of Henry the Sev-
enth, 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 calcu-
lated, under a false name; and the astrologer gave a judgment, that
he should be killed in a duel; at which the Queen laughed, think-
ing her husband to be above challenges and duels: but he was slain
upon a course at tilt, the splinters of the staff of Montgomery going
in at his beaver.^ The trivial' prophecy, which I heard when I was
' The movable face part of a helmet ' Common.

92 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

a child, and Queen Elizabeth was in the flower of her years, was.

When hempe is spun
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 verified only
in the change of the name; for that the King's style* is now no more
of England, but of Britain. There was also another prophecy, before
the year of '88, which I do not well understand.

There shall be seen upon a day,
Between the Baugh 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 shall you have none.

It was generally conceived to be meant of the Spanish fleet that
came in '88: for that the king of Spain's surname, as they say, is
Norway. The prediction of Regiomontanus,

Octogesimus octavus mirabilis annus
[The eighty-eighth, a year of wonders], was thought likewise ac-
complished 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, 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 the
like kind; especially if you include dreams, and predictions of astrol-
ogy. But I have set down these few only of certain credit, for
example. My judgment 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

* Title.

OF AMBITION 93

they miss; as they do generally also of dreams. The second is, that
probable conjectures, or obscure traditions, many times turn them-
selves 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 sub-
ject to demonstration, that the globe of the earth had great parts
beyond the Adantic, which mought be probably conceived not to be
all sea: and adding thereto the tradition in Plato's Timacus, and his
Adanticus, it mought 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 an humor* that maketh men
active, earnest, full of alacrity, and stirring, if it be not stopped. But
if it be stopped, and cannot have his way, it becometh adust,' and
thereby malign and venomous. So ambitious men, if they find the
way open for their rising, and still get forward, they are rather busy
than dangerous; but if they be checked in their desires, they become
secredy discontent, and look upon men and matters with an evil
eye, and are best pleased when things go backward; which is the
worst property in a servant of a prince or state. Therefore it is good
for princes, if they use ambitious men, to handle it so as they be
still progressive and not retrograde; which because it cannot be
without inconvenience, it is good not to use such natures at all. For
if they rise not with their service, they will take order to make their
service fall with them. 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 service dispenseth with the rest; and to take a soldier without

• Infer. ■ According to the old physiology, the body contained four humors — blood,
phlegm, choler (red bile), melancholy (black bile) — the varying combination of which
determined the individual temperament. ' Scorched, overheated.

94 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 lie 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 sub-
ject 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 against ambitious great-ones. For when the way of pleasur-
ing 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 ambitious
men. As for the having of them obnoxious' to ruin; if they be of
fearful natures, it may do well; but if they be stout and daring, it
may precipitate their designs, and prove dangerous. As for the
pulling of them down, if the affairs require it, and that it may not
be done with safety suddenly, the only way is the interchange con-
tinually 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 harm-
ful, the ambition to prevail in great things, than that other, to
appear in every thing; for that breeds confusion, and mars business.
But yet it is less dangerous to have an ambitious man stirring in
business, than great in dependences. 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 van-
tage ground to do good; the approach to kings and principal per-
sons; and the raising of a man's own fortunes. He that hath the
' With the eyelids sewed together. * Accustom. ' Liable. ' Maze.

OF MASQUES AND TRIUMPHS 95

best of these intentions, when he aspireth, is an honest man; and
that prince that can discern of these intentions in another that aspir-
eth, 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 observa-
tions. But yet, since princes will have such things, it is better they
should be graced with elegancy than daubed with cost. Dancing
to song is a thing of great state and pleasure. I understand it, that
the song be in quire, placed aloft, and accompanied with some
broken music;' and the ditty fitted to the device. Acting in song,
especially in dialogues, hath an extreme good grace; I say acting, not
dancing (for that is a mean and vulgar thing); and the voices of
the dialogue would be strong and manly (a base and a tenor; no
treble); and the ditty high and tragical; not nice or dainty. Several
quires, placed one over against another, and taking the voice by
catches, anthem-wise, give great pleasure. Turning dances into
figure is a childish curiosity. And generally let it be noted, that
those things which I here set down are such as do naturally take the
sense, and not respect petty wonderments. 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 perfecdy
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 candle-light are white, carnation, and
'Ostentation. 'Part music, for different itutniments.

96 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

a kind of sea-water-green; and oes,' 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 long; they have been commonly of fools,
satyrs, baboons, wild-men, antics,' beasts, sprites, witches, Ethiops,
pigmies, turquets,* nymphs, rustics, Cupids, statuas moving, and the
like. As for angels, it is not comical enough to put them in anti-
masques; and anything that is hideous, as devils, giants, is on the
other side as unfit. But chiefly, let the music of them be recreative,
and with some strange changes. Some sweet odors suddenly com-
ing 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 challengers make their entry; especially
if they be drawn with strange beasts: as lions, bears, camels, and
the like; or in the devices of their entrance; or in the bravery of
their liveries; or in the goodly furniture of their horses and armor.
But enough of these toys.

XXXVIII

OF NATURE IN MEN

Nature is often hidden; sometimes overcome; seldom extin-
guished. Force maketh nature more violent 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
^ Round spangles. ' Clowns. * Turkish dwarfs. ' Reaction.

OF NATURE IN MEN 97

dancers do with thick shoes. For it breeds great perfection, if the
practice be harder than the use. Where nature is mighty, and there-
fore 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 discontinue altogether. But if a man have
the fortitude and resolution to enfranchise himself at once, that is
the best:

Optimus ille antmi vindex Izdentia pectus
Vincula qui rupit, dedoluitque semel.

[Wouldst thou be free? The chains that gall thy breast
With one strong effort burst, and be at rest.]

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 "ice. Let not a man force a habit upon
himself with a perpetual ccoiinuance, out with some intermission.
For both the pause reinforceth the new onset; and if a man that is
not perfect be ever in practice, he shall as well practise his errors as
his abilities, and induce one habit of both; and there is no means
to help this but by seasonable intermissions. But let not a man trust
his victory over his nature too far; for nature will lay buried a great
time, and yet revive upon the occasion or temptation. Like as it
was with ^sop's damsel, turned from a cat to a woman, who sat
very demurely at the board's end, till a mouse ran before her. There-
fore let a man either avoid the occasion altogether; or put himself
often to it, that he may be litde moved with it. A man's nature
is best perceived in privateness, for there is no affectation; in passion,
for that putteth 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 vocations; otherwise they may say,
multutn incola fuit anima mea [my soul hath been long a so-
journer]; 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

98 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

no care for any set times; for his thoughts will fly to it of them-
selves; so as the spaces of other business or studies will suffice. A
man's nature runs either to herbs or weeds; therefore let him season
ably water the one, and destroy the other.

XXXIX

OF CUSTOM AND EDUCATION

Men's thoughts are much according to their inclination; their
discourse and sjjeeches according to their learning and infused opin-
ions; but their deeds are after as they have been accustomed. And
therefore, as Machiavel well noteth (though in an evil-favored in-
stance), there is no trusting to the force of nature nor to the bravery
of words, except it be corroborate' by custom. His instance is, that
for the achieving of a desperate conspiracy, a man should not rest
upon the fierceness of any man's nature, or his resolute undertak-
ings; but take such an one as hath had his hands formerly in blood.
But Machiavel knew not of a Friar Clement, nor a Kavillac, nor a
Jaureguy, nor a Baltazar Gerard; yet his rule holdeth still that na-
ture, nor the engagement of words, are not so forcible as custom.
Only superstition 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 predominancy 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 they
were dead images, and engines moved only by the wheels of cus-
tom. We see also the reign or tyranny of custom, what it is. The
Indians (I mean the sect of their wise men) lay themselves quiedy
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 queching.* I remember, in the
beginning of Queen Elizabeth's time of England, an Irish rebel
condemned, put up a petition to the deputy that he might be
' Strengthened. ^ Based on a vow. ' Equally powerful. * Flinching.

OF FORTUNE 99

hanged in a withe, and not in an halter; because it bad 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. Many examples may be put of the force of custom,
both upon mind and body. Therefore, since custom is the princi-
pal magistrate of man's life, let men by all means endeavor to ob-
tain good customs. Certainly custom is most {perfect when it be-
ginneth in young years: this we call education; which is, in effect,
but an early custom. So we see, in languages the tongue is more
pliant to all expressions and sounds, the joints are more supple to
all feats of activity and motions, in youth than afterwards. For it
is true that late learners cannot so well take the ply; except it be
in some minds that have not suffered themselves to fix, but have
kept themselves open and prepared to receive continual amend-
ment, which is exceeding rare. But if the force of custom simple
and separate be great, the force of custom copulate and conjoined
and collegiate is far greater. For there example teacheth, company
comforteth, emulation quickeneth, glory raiseth: so as in such places
the force of custom is in his exaltation.* Certainly the great multi-
plication of virtues upon human nature resteth upon societies well
ordained and disciplined. For commonwealths and good govern-
ments do nourish virtue grown, but do not much mend the seeds.
But the misery is, that the most effectual means are now applied to
the ends least to be desired.

XL

OF FORTIWE

It cannot be denied, but outward accidents conduce much to for-
tune; favor, opportunity, death of others, occasion fitting virtue.
But chiefly, the mould of a man's fortune is in his own hands.
Faber quisque jortuncc suce [Every one is the architect of his own
fortune], 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

' At its height.

100 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

comederit non fit draco [A serpent must have eaten another serpent
before he can become a dragon]. Overt and apparent virtues bring
forth praise; but there be secret and hidden virtues that bring
forth fortune; certain deUveries of a man's self, which have no
name. The Spanish name, desemboUura [facility in expression],
partly expresseth them; when there be not stonds' nor restiveness in
a man's nature; but that the wheels of his mind keep way with the
wheels of his fortune. For so Livy (after he had described Cato
Major in these words. In illo viro tantum robur corporis et animi
fuit, ut quocutique loco natus esset, jortunam sibi facturus videretur
[Such was his strength of body and mind, that wherever he had
been born he could have made himself a fortune]) falleth upon
that, that he had versatile ingenium [a wit that could turn well].
Therefore if a man look sharply and attentively, he shall see For-
tune: for though she be blind, yet she is not invisible. The way of
fortune is like the Milken 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 litde and scarce discerned vir-
tues, or rather faculties and customs, that make men fortunate.
The Italians note some of them, such as a man would litde think.
When they speak of one that cannot do amiss, they will throw in
into his other conditions, that he hath Poco di matto [a little out of
his senses]. And certainly there be not two more fortunate proper-
ties, than to have a little of the fool, and not too much of the
honest. Therefore extreme lovers of their country or masters were
never fortunate, neither can they be. For when a man placeth his
thoughts without himself, he goeth not his own way. An hasty for-
tune maketh an enterpriser and remover (the French hath it bet-
ter, entreprenant, or remuant); but the exercised fortune maketh
the able man. Fortune is to be honored and respected, and it be
but for her daughters. Confidence and Reputation. For those two
Felicity breedeth; the first within a man's self, the latter in others
towards him. All wise men, to decline the envy of their own vir-
tues, use to ascribe them to Providence and Fortune; for so they
may the better assume them : and, besides, it is greatness in a man to
be the care of the higher powers. So Caesar said to the pilot in the

'Stop*.

OF USURY lOI

tempest, Ccrsarem portas, et jortunam ejus [You carry Czsar and
his fortune]. So Sylla chose the name of Felix [the Fortunate], and
not of Magnus [the Great J. And it hath been noted, that those who
ascribe openly too much to their own wisdom and policy end in-
fortunate. It is written that Timotheus the Athenian, after he had,
in the account he gave to the state of his government, often inter-
laced this speech, and in this Fortune had no part, never prospered
in anything he undertook afterwards. Certainly there be, whose
fortunes are like Homer's verses, that have a slide and easiness
more than the verses of other poets; as Plutarch saith of Timoleon's
fortune, in respect of that of Agesilaus or Epaminondas. And that
this should be, no doubt it is much in a man's self.

XLI

OF USURY

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

Ignavum fucos pecus a prarscpibus arcent.
[They drive away the drones, a slothful race, from the hives.] That
the usurer breaketh the first law that was made for mankind after
the fall, which was, in sudore vultus tui comedes panem tuum;
not, in sudore vultus alieni [in the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat
bread — not in the sweat of another's face]. 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 [a thing al-
lowed by reason of the hardness of men's hearts]; for since there
must be borrowing and lending, and men are so hard of heart as
they will not lend freely, usury must be 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

' Interest, oot necessarily excessive. ' The color the Jews used to be required to wear.

' Revealing.

102 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 mer-
chants. For were it not for this lazy trade of usury, money would
not lie still, but would in great part be employed upon merchandiz-
ing; 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 merchandizing. The fourth, that it bring-
eth 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 employment of money is chiefly
either merchandizing or purchasing; and usury waylays both. The
sixth, that it doth dull and damp all industries, improvements, 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 how-
soever usury in some respect hindereth merchandizing, 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 interest; so as if
the usurer either call in or keep back his money, there will ensue
presently a great stand of trade. The second is, that were it not for
this easy borrowing upon interest, men's necessities would draw
upon them a most sudden undoing; in that they would be forced
to sell their means (be it lands or goods) far under foot;' and so,
whereas usury doth but gnaw upon them, bad markets would swal-
low 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 remem-
ber a cruel moneyed man in the country, that would say. The devil
^ Essay xix. n. 4. ' Below the real value.

OF USURY 103

take this usury, it keep 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 con-
ceive the number of inconveniences that will ensue, if borrowing
be cramped. Therefore to speak of the abolishing of usury is idle.
All states have ever had it, in one kind or rate, or other. So as
that opinion must be sent to Utopia.'

To speak now of the reformation and reiglement' of usury; how
the discommodities of it may be best avoided, and the commodities
retained. It appears by the balance of commodities and discom-
modities 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 common borrower, but the merchant will be to seek for
money. And it is to be noted, that the trade of merchandize, being
the most 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
merchandizing. First, therefore, let usury in general be reduced to
five in the hundred; and let that rate be proclaimed to be free and
current; and let the state shut itself out to take any penalty for the
same. This will preserve borrowing from any general stop or dry-
ness. This will ease infinite borrowers in the country. This will, in
good part, raise the price of land, because land purchased at sixteen
years' purchase will yield six in the hundred, and somewhat more;
whereas this rate of interest yields but five. This by like reason will
encourage and edge industrious and profitable improvements; be-
cause many will rather venture in that kind than take five in
the hundred, especially having been used to greater profit. Sec-
ondly, let there be certain persons licensed to lend to known
merchants upon usury at a higher rate; and let it be with the cau-
* Sir Thomas More's imaKinaiy ideal commonwealth. ' Regulation.

104 "T**^ ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

tions following. Let the rate be, even with the merchant himself,
somewhat more easy than that he used formerly to pay; for by that
means all borrowers shall have some ease by this reformation, be
he merchant, or whosoever. Let it be no bank or common stock,
but every man be master of his own money. Not that I altogether
mislike banks, but they will hardly be brooked, in regard of certain
suspicions. Let the state be answered some small matter for the
license, and the rest left to the lender; for if the abatement be but
small, it will no whit discourage the lender. For he, for example,
that took before ten or nine in the hundred, will sooner descend
to eight in the hundred than give over his trade of usury, and go
from certain gains to gains of hazard. Let these licensed lenders be
in number indefinite, but restrained to certain principal cities and
towns of merchandizing; for then they will be hardly able to 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 lend his
moneys far off, nor put them into unknown hands.

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

XLII

OF YOUTH AND AGE

A MAN that is young in years may be old in hours, if he have lost
no 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 perturbations are not ripe for
action till they have passed the meridian of their years; as it was
with Julius Cxsar and Septimius Severus. Of the latter of whom it
is said, Juventutem egit erroribus, imo furoribus, plenam [He passed
a youth full of errors, yea of madnesses]. And yet he was the ablest
emperor, almost, of all the list. But reposed natures may do well in

OF YOUTH AND AGE I05

youth. As it is seen in Augustus Gesar, 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 projects than for settled business. For the experi-
ence of age, in things that fall within the compass of it, directeth
them; but in new things, abuseth' them. The errors of young men
are the ruin of business; but the errors of aged men amount but to
this, that more might have been done, or sooner. Young men, in
the conduct and manage of actions, embrace more than they can
hold; stir more than they can quiet; fly to the end, without con-
sideration of the means and degrees; pursue some few principles
which they have chanced upon absurdly; care not to* innovate,
which draws unknown inconveniences; use extreme remedies at
first; and that which 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 employments of both; for that will be good
for the present, because the virtues of either age may correct the de-
fects of both; and good for succession, that young men may be
learners, while men in age are actors; and, lastly, good for extern
accidents, because authority foUoweth old men, and favor and popu-
larity youth. But for the moral part, perhaps youth will have the
pre-eminence, as age hath for the politic. A certain rabbin, upon
the text, your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall
dream dreams, inferreth that young men are admitted nearer to
God than old, because vision is a clearer revelation than a dream.
And certainly, the more a man drinketh of the world, the more it
intoxicateth; and age doth profit rather in the powers of under-
standing, 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 britde wits, the edge whereof is soon
turned; such as was Hermogenes the rhetorician, whose books are

'Deceiveth. *Are reckless in innovating, 'Badly trained.
* Completion.

I06 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

exceeding subtle; who afterwards waxed stupid. A second sort is
of those that have some natural dispositions which have better grace
in youth than in age; such as is a fluent and luxuriant speech; which
becomes youth well, but not age: so TuUy saith of Hortensius,
Idem tnanebat, neque idem decebat [ He continued the same, when
the same was not becoming]. The third is of such as take too high
a strain at the Hrst, and are magnanimous more than tract of years
can uphold. As was Scipio Africanus, of whom Livy saith in effect,
Ultima primis cedebant [His last actions were not equal to his first].

XLIII

OF BEAUTY

Virtue is like a rich stone, best plain set; and surely virtue is best
in a body that is comely, though not of delicate features; and that
hath rather dignity of presence than beauty of aspect. Neither is it
almost seen, that very beautiful persons are otherwise of great vir-
tue; as if nature were rather busy not to err, than in labor to pro-
duce excellency. And therefore they prove accomplished, but not
of great spirit; and study rather behavior than virtue. But this
holds not always: for Augustus Cisar, 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. 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
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
' Feature. * Becoming.

OF DEFORMITY I07

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 principal part of beauty is in decent
motion, certainly it is no marvel though persons in years seem many
times more amiable; pulchrorum autumnus pulcher [beautiful per-
sons have a beautiful autumn]; for no youth can be comely but by
pardon,' and considering the youth as to make up the comeliness.
Beauty is as summer fruits, which are easy to corrupt, and cannot
last; and for the most part it makes a dissolute youth, and an age
a little out of countenance; but yet certainly again, if it light well,
it maketh virtue shine, and vices blush.

XLIV

OF DEFORMITY

Deformed persons are commonly even with nature; for as nature
hath done ill by them, so do they by nature; being for the most part
(as the Scripture saith) void of natural affection; and so they have
their revenge of nature. Certainly there is a consent' between the
body and the mind; and where nature erreth in the one, she ven-
tureth in the other. Ubi peccat in una, periclitatur in altera. 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 inclina-
tion are sometimes obscured by the sun of discipline and virtue.
Therefore it is good to consider of deformity, not as a sign, which
is more deceivable; but as a cause, which seldom faileth of the effect.
Whosoever hath anything fixed in his person that doth induce con-
tempt, 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 in-
dustry, and especially of this kind, to watch and observe the weak-
ness of others, that they may have somewhat to repay. Again, in
their superiors, it quencheth jealousy towards them, as persons that
they think they may at pleasure despise: and it layeth their competitors
* Making special allowance. ' Agreement.

I08 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

and emulators asleep; as never believing they should be in possi-
bility of advancement, till they see them in possession. So that upon
the matter,* in a great wit, deformity is an advantage to rising.
Kings in ancient times (and at this present in some countries) were
wont to put great trust in eunuchs; because they that are envious
towards all are more obnoxious' and officious towards one. But yet
their trust towards them hath rather been as to good spials* and
good whisperers, than good magistrates and officers. And much like
is the reason of deformed persons. Still the ground is, they will, if
they be of spirit, seek to free themselves from scorn; which must
be either by virtue or malice; and therefore let it not be marvelled if
sometimes they prove excellent persons; as was Agesilaus, Zanger the
son of Solyman, Msop, Gasca, President of Peru; and Socrates may
go likewise amongst them; with others.

XLV

OF BUILDING

Houses are built to live in, and not to look on; therefore let use
be preferred before uniformity, except where both may be had.
Leave the goodly fabrics of houses, for beauty only, to the en-
chanted 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 un-
wholesome; but likewise where the air is unequal; as you shall see
many fine seats set upon a knap' of ground, environed with higher
hills round about it; whereby the heat of the sun is pent in, and the
wind gathereth as in troughs; so as you shall have, and that sud-
denly, 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 markets; and, if you will consult with Momus,' ill neighbors. I
speak not of many more; want of water; want of wood, shade, and
shelter; want of fruitfulness, and mixture of grounds of several na-
tures; want of prospect; want of level grounds; want of places at
some near distance for sports of hunting, hawking, and races; too
* On the whole. 'Subservient. * Spies. 'Knoll. *The God of fault-finding.

OF BUILDING IO9

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 everything dear; where a man hath a
great living laid together, and where he is scanted: all which, as it
is impossible perhaps to find together, so it is good to know
them, and think of them, that a man may take as many as he
can; and if he have several dwellings, that he sort them so, that
what he wanteth in the one he may find in the other. Lucullus an-
swered 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 for summer, but how do you in winter? Lucullus
answered. Why, do you not thinf^^ me as wise as some jowl 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 it is spoken
of in the book of Hester, 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 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

' Lat., no commodity or convenience, which gives better sense.
* Intercepts. ' Wings running back from the front.

no THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 statuas 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. And so 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 three sides of it,
of a far lower building than the front. And in all the four corners of
that court fair staircases, cast into turrets, on the outside, and not
within the row of buildings themselves. But those towers 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 col-
ored windows of several works. On the household side, chambers
of presence' and ordinary entertainments, with some bed<hambers;
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 fore-
noon and afternoon. Cast' it also, that you may have rooms both
for summer and winter; shady for summer, and warm for winter.
You shall have sometimes fair houses so full of glass that one cannot
tell where to become to be out of the sun or cold. For inbowed win-
dows, I hold them of good use (in cities, indeed, upright do better,

* The center pillar, or, when "open," the well, of a winding stair.
' Reception-rooms. ' Plan.

OF BUILDING III

in respect of the uniformity towards the street) ; for they be pretty
retiring places for conference; and besides, they keep both the wind
and sun off; for that which would strike almost through the room
doth scarce pass the window. But let them be but few, four in the
court, on the sides only.

Beyond this court, let there be an inward court, of the same
square and height; which is to be environed with the garden on all
sides; and in the inside, cloistered on all sides, upon decent and
beautiful arches, as high as the first story. On the under story,
towards the garden, let it be turned to a grotto, or place of shade,
or estivation.* And only have op)ening and windows towards the
garden; and be level upon the floor, no whit sunken under ground,
to avoid all dampishness. And let there be a fountain, or some fair
work of statuas 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, bed<hamber, ante<amera,
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 cupola in
the midst; and all other elegancy that may be thought upon. In
the upper gallery too, I wish that there may be, if the place will
yield it, some fountains running in divers places from the wall, with
some fine avoidances." And thus much for the model of the palace;
save that you must have, before you come to the front, three courts.
A green court plain, with a wall about 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 enclosed with a naked wall, but enclosed
with terraces, leaded aloft, and fairly garnished, on the three sides;
and cloistered on the inside, with pillars, and not with arches be-

•For summer use. '" Retiring-room.

"Secret outlets.

112 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

low. As for offices, let them stand at distance, with some low gal-
leries, to pass from them to the palace itself.

XLVI

OF GARDENS

God Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed 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 handi-
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 gardening 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; pine-apple-trees;' fir-trees;
rosemary; lavender; periwinkle, the white, the purple, and the blue;
germander; flags; orange-trees; lemon-trees; and myrdes, if they be
stoved;* and sweet marjoram, warm set. There foUoweth, for the lat-
ter part of January and February, the mezereon-tree, which then
blossoms; crocus vernus,' both the yellow and the grey; primroses;
anemones; the early tulippa; hyacinthus orientalis; chamai'ris; fritel-
laria.* For March, there come violets, specially the single blue, which
are the earliest; the yellow daffodil; the daisy; the almond-tree in
blossom; the peach-tree in blossom; the cornelian-tree in blossom;
sweet-briar. In April follow the double white violet; the wall-flower;
the stock-gilliflower; the cowslip; flower-delices, and lilies of all
natures; rosemary-flowers; the tulippa; the double peony; the pale
daffodil; the French honeysuckle; the cherry-tree in blossom; the
damson and plum-trees in blossom; the white thorn in leaf; the
lilac-tree. In May and June come pinks of all sorts, specially the
blush-pink; roses of all kinds, except the musk, which comes later;
honeysuckles; strawberries; bugloss; columbine; the French mari-
gold, flos Africanus; cherry-tree in fruit; ribes;' figs in fruit; rasps;

• Pine trees. The cones were called pineapples. ' Kept in a hothouse.
' Spring crocus. * A kind of lily. ' Currants or gooseberries.

OF GARDENS II3

vine-flowers; lavender in flowers; the sweet satyrian, with the white
flower; herba muscaria;' Hlium convallium;' the apple-tree in blos-
som. In July come gilliflowers of all varieties; musk-roses; the lime-
tree in blossom; early pears and plums in fruit; jennetings,' codlins.*
In August come plums of all sorts in fruit; pears; apricocks; ber-
berries; filberds; musk-melons; monks-hoods, of all colors. In Sep-
tember come grapes; apples; poppies of all colors; peaches; melo-
cotones;' nectarines; cornelians; wardens;'" quinces. In October
and the beginning of November come services; medlars; bullaces;"
roses cut or removed to come late; holly-hocks; and such like. These
particulars are for the climate of London; but my meaning is per-
ceived, that you may have ver perpetuum [perpetual spring], as the
place affords.

And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where
it comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand,
therefore nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be
the flowers and plants that do best perfume the air. Roses, damask
and red, are fast flowers'^ of their smells; so that you may walk by
a whole row of 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, specially
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, which [yield] a most excel-
lent cordial 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-briar. Then wall-flowers, which are very
delightful to be set under a parlor or lower chamber window. Then
pinks and gilliflowers," especially the matted pink and clove gilli-
flower. 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 delight-
fully, not passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed,

* Grape-hyacinth. ^ Lily of the valley. * Kinds of apples. * A kind of peach.

'"Large baking pears. "A sort of plum. "Not yielding odor freely.

" August 24. '* A kind of grass. " Carnations.

114 "^^^ ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

are three; that is, burnet, wild-thyme, and watermints. Therefore
you are to set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you
walk or tread.

For gardens (speaking of those which are indeed prince-like, as
we have done of buildings), the contents ought not well to be under
thirty acres of ground; and to be divided into three parts; a green in
the entrance; a heath or desert in the going forth; and the main
garden in the midst; besides alleys on both sides. And I like well
that four acres of ground be assigned to the green; six to the heath;
four and four to either side; and twelve to the main garden. The
green hath two pleasures: the one, because nothing is more pleasant
to the eye than green grass kept finely shorn; the other, because it
will give you a fair alley in the midst, by which you may go in front
upon a stately hedge, which is to enclose 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 which
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 carpenter's
work, of some ten foot high, and six foot broad; and the spaces
between of the same dimension 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 every
arch, a little turret, with a belly, enough to receive a cage of birds:
and over every space between the arches some other little figure,
with broad plates of round 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 under-
stand, that this square of the garden should not be the whole breadth
of the ground, but to leave on either side ground enough for diver-
sity 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 GARDENS II5

of this great enclosure; not at the hither end, for letting" your pros-
pect 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 busy, or full of work. Wherein I, for
my part, do not like images cut out in juniper or other garden stuff;
they be for children. Little low hedges, round, like welts, with some
pretty pyramids, I like well; and in some places, fair columns upon
frames of carpenter's work. I would also have the alleys spacious and
fair. You may have closer alleys upon the side grounds, but none in
the main garden. I wish also, in the very middle, a fair mount,
with three ascents, and alleys, enough for four to walk 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 refreshment; 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 without fish, or slime, or mud. For
the first, the ornaments of images gilt, or of marble, which are in use,
do well: but the main matter is so to convey the water, as it never
stay, either in the bowls or in the cistern; that the water be never
by rest discolored, 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 ourselves: as, that the bottom be finely paved,
and with images; the sides likewise; and withal embellished with
colored glass, and such things of lustre; encompassed also with fine
rails of low statuas. But the main point is the same which we men-
tioned in the former kind of fountain; which is, that the water be in

" Hindering.

Il6 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

perpetual motion, fed by a water higher than the pool, and deliv-
ered into it by fair spouts, and then discharged away under ground
by some equality of bores, that it stay litde. 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-briar and
honeysuckle, and some wild vine amongst; and the ground set with
violets, strawberries, and primroses. For these are sweet, and pros-
per 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 mole-hills
(such as are in wild heaths), to be set, some with wild thyme; some
with pinks; some with germander, that gives a good flower to the
eye; some with periwinkle; some with violets; some with straw-
berries; some with cowslips; some with daisies; some with red roses;
some with lilium convallium; some with sweet-williams red; some
with bear's-foot: and the like low flowers, being withal sweet and
sighdy. Part of which heaps are to be with standards of little bushes
pricked" upon their top, and part without. The standards to be
roses; juniper; holly; berberries (but here and there, because of the
smell of their blossom); red currants; gooseberries; rosemary; bays;
sweet-briar; and such like. But these standards to be kept with cut-
ting, 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, be-
cause of going wet. In many of these alleys, likewise, you are to set
fruit-trees of all sorts; as well upon the walls as in ranges. And this
would be 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.

" Planted. " Rob.

OF NEGOTIATING II 7

At the end of both the side grounds, I would have a mount of some
pretty height, leaving the wall of the enclosure breast high, to look
abroad into the fields.

For the main garden, I do not deny but there should be some
fair alleys ranged on both sides, with fruit-trees; and some pretty
tufts of fruit-trees, and 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 nesding, and that
no foulness appear in the floor of the aviary. So I have made a plat-
form" of a princely garden, pardy by precept, pardy 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 to-
gether; and sometimes add statuas and such things for state and
magnificence, but nothing to the true pleasure of a garden.

XLVII

OF NEGOTIATING

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

"Plan.

Il8 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

direction how far to go; and generally, where a man will reserve to
himself liberty either to disavow or to expound. In choice of in-
struments, it is better to choose men of a plainer sort, that are like
to do that that is committed to them, and to report back again faith-
fully the success, than those that are cunning to contrive out of
other men's business somewhat to grace themselves, and will help
the matter in report for satisfaction' sake. Use also such persons as
affect' the business wherein they are employed; for that quickeneth
much; and such as are fit for the matter; as bold men for expostula-
tion, fair-spoken men for persuasion, crafty men for inquiry and
observation, froward^ and absurd' men for business that doth not
well bear out* itself. Use also such as have been lucky, and prevailed
before in things wherein you have 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 or first performance is all; which a man
cannot reasonably demand, except either the nature of the thing be
such, which must go before; or else a man can persuade the other
party that he shall still need him in some other thing; or else that
he be counted the honester man. All practice' is to discover,' or to
work.' Men discover themselves in trust, in passion, at unawares,
and of necessity, when they would have somewhat done and can-
not 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. 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.

' Like. ' Stubborn. ' Stupid. * Justify. * Scheming. ' Reveal.
^Manage, make use of.

OF FOLLOWERS AND FRIENDS II9

XLVIII

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. Factious followers are worse to be liked, which follow not
upon affection to him with whom they range themselves, but uf)on
discontentment conceived against some other; whereupon commonly
ensueth that ill intelligence' that we many times see between great
personages. Likewise glorious' followers, who make themselves as
trump)ets of the commendation of those they follow, are full of incon-
venience; 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 followers likewise which are dangerous, being indeed
espials;' which inquire the secrets of the house, and bear tales of
them to others. Yet such men, many times, are in great favor; for
they are officious, and commonly exchange tales. The following by
certain estates of men, answerable to that which a great person him-
self 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 following is to be followed as one
that apprehendeth to advance virtue and desert in all sorts of per-
sons. And yet, where there is no eminent odds in sufficiency, it is
better to take with the more passable,' than with the more able. And
besides, to speak truth, in base times active men are of more use
than virtuous. It is true that in 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 thank-
ful, and the rest more officious: because all is of favor. It is good
discretion not to make too much of any man at the first; because
' Understanding. ' Boastful. ' Spies. * Proper. '^ Mediocre.

120 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

one cannot hold out that proportion. To be governed (as we call it)
by one is not safe; for it shows softness, and gives a freedom to scan-
dal and disreputation; for those that would not censure or speak ill
of a man immediately will talk more boldly of those that are so great
with them, and thereby wound their honor. Yet to be distracted with
many is worse; for it makes men to be of the last impression, and
full of change. To take advice of some few friends is ever honorable;
for lool{ers-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 was wont to be magnified. That
that is, is between superior and inferior, whose fortunes may com-
prehend the one the other.

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 hof)es. Some take hold of suits only for an occa-
sion to cross some other; or to make' an information whereof they
could not otherwise have apt pretext; without care what become 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 competitor. Surely there is in some sort
a right in every suit; either a right in equity, if it be a suit of con-
troversy;* 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 countenance to compound* the matter than to carry it.' If affec-

' Get. * Law-suit. ' For some favor or office. * Compromise.

'Get an unjust decision.

OF SUITORS 121

tion lead a man to favor the less worthy in desert, let him do it
without depraving or disabling' 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 ref)orting the success' barely, and in challenging no more thanks
than one hath deserved, is grown not only honorable but also gra-
cious. In suits of favor, the first coming ought to take little place:
so far forth consideration may be had of his trust, that if intelligence
of the matter could not otherwise have been had but by him, advan-
tage be not taken of the note, but the party left to his other means;
and in 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 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 ceqtium jeras
[Ask more than is reasonable, that you may get no less] 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.

• Decrying or disparaging. ^ Deceits.

'Outcome.

122 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

OF STUDIES

Studies serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their
chief use for delight is in privateness and retiring; for ornament,
is in discourse; and for ability, is in the judgment and disposition
of business. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of par-
ticulars, one by one; but the general 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
proyning,' 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 dis-
tilled books are like common distilled waters, flashy^ things. Read-
ing maketh a full man; conference a ready man; and writing an
exact man. And therefore, if a man write litde, 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 [Studies pass
into and influence manners]. Nay, there is no stond or impediment
1 Fnuuo^, cultivating. ' Insipid.

OF FACTION 123

in the wit but may be wrought out by fit studies; like as diseases
of the body may have appropriate exercises. BowHng is good for
the stone and reins;' shooting for the lungs and breast; gentle walk-
ing 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 demonstra-
tions, if his wit be called away never so little, he must begin again.
If his wit be not apt to distinguish or find differences, let him study
the Schoolmen; for they are cymini sectores [splitters of hairs]. If
he be not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one thing to prove
and illustrate another, let him study the lawyers' cases. So every
defect of the mind may have a special receipt.

LI

OF FACTION

Many have an opinion not wise, that for a prince to govern his
estate, or for a great jjerson to govern his proceedings, according to
the respect of factions, is a principal part of policy; whereas contrari-
wise, the chiefest wisdom is either in ordering those things which
are general, and wherein men of several factions do nevertheless
agree; or in dealing with correspondence to particular persons, one
by one. But I say not that the considerations of factions is to be neg-
lected. 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 moder-
ately, as he be a man of the one faction which is most passable with
the other, commonly giveth best way. The lower and weaker fac-
tion is the firmer in conjunction; and it is often seen that a few that
are stiff do tire out a greater number that are more moderate. 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 Optimates [Aristocrats]) held out awhile against
the faction of Pompey and Caesar; but when the senate's authority
was pulled down, Caesar and Pompey soon after brake. The faction
or party of Antonius and Octavianus Caesar against Brutus and

' Kidocys.

124 "^^^ ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

Cassius held out likewise for a time; but when Brutus and Cassius
were overthrown, then soon after Antonius and Octavianus brake
and subdivided. These examples are of wars, but the same holdeth
in private factions. And therefore those that are seconds in factions
do many times, when the faction 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 con-
trary faction to that by which they enter: thinking belike that they
have the first sure, and now are ready for a new purchase. The
traitor in faction lighdy goeth away with it;' for when matters have
stuck long in balancing, the winning of some one man casteth them,
and he getteth all the thanks. The even carriage between two fac-
tions proceedeth not always of moderation, but of a trueness to a
man's self, with end to make use of both. Certainly in Italy they
hold it a little suspect in popes, when they have often in their mouth
Padre commune [common father]: and take it to be a sign of one
that meaneth to refer all to the greatness of his own house. Kings
had need beware how they side themselves, and make themselves as
of a faction or party; for leagues within the state are ever pernicious
to monarchies: for they raise an obligation paramount to obligation
of sovereignty, and make the king tanquam unus ex nobis [like one
of ourselves]; as was to be seen in the League of France. When
factions are carried too high and too violently, it is a sign of weak-
ness 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 quiedy carried by
the higher motion of primum mobile}

OF CEREMONIES AND RESPECTS

He that is only real had need have exceeding great parts of vir-
tue; as the stone had need to be rich that is set without foil.' But if

' Gets an advantage. * See Essay xv. n. 3.

' Gold or silver leaf behind a precious stone to add luster.

OF CEREMONIES AND RESPECTS 125

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
mal{e heavy purses; for light gains come thick, whereas great come
but now and then. So it is true that small matters win great com-
mendation, because they are continually in use and in note: whereas
the occasion of any great virtue cometh but on festivals. Therefore
it doth much add to a man's reputation, and is (as Queen Isabella
said) lif^e 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 natural and unaffected. Some men's behavior is like
a verse, wherein every syllable is measured; how can a man compre-
hend great matters, that breaketh his mind too much to small ob-
servations? Not to use ceremonies at all is to teach others not to
use them again; and so diminisheth respect to himself; especially they
be not to be omitted to strangers and formal natures; but the dwell-
ing 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 imprint-
ing* passages amongst compliments, which is of singular use, if a
man can hit upon it. Amongst a man's peers a man shall be sure of
familiarity; and 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 litde to be familiar. He that is too much in anything, 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 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 reason. Men had need beware
how they be too perfect in compliments; for be they never so suffi-
cient otherwise, their enviers will be sure to give them that attribute,
to the disadvantage of their greater virtues. It is loss also in business
to be too full of respects, or to be curious in observing times and

' Impressive.

126 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

opportunities. Solomon saith, He that considereth the wind shall not
sow. and he that look^th 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.

Lm

OF PRAISE

Praise is the reflection of virtue; but it is as the glass or body
which giveth the reflection. If it be from the common people, it is
commonly false and naught; and rather followeth vain persons
than virtuous. For the common people understand not many excel-
lent virtues. The lowest virtues draw praise from them; the middle
virtues work in them astonishment or admiration; but of the high-
est virtues they have no sense of perceiving at all. But shows, and
species virtutibus similes [qualities resembling virtues], serve best
with them. Certainly fame is like a river, that beareth up things
light and swoln, and drowns things weighty and solid. But if per-
sons of quality and judgment concur,' then it is (as the Scripture
saith) nomen bonum instar unguenti fragrantis [a good name like
unto a sweet ointment]. 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
jusdy 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, spreta
conscientia [in disdain of conscience]. Some praises come of good
wishes and respects, which is a form due in civility to kings and
great persons, laudando prcecipere [to teach in praising], when by
telling men what they are, they represent to them what they should
'Excessively precise. 'Agree (in praising).

OF VAIN-GLORY \T]

be. Some men are praised maliciously to their hurt, thereby to stir
envy and jealousy towards them: pessimum genus inimicorum lau-
dantium [the worst kind of enemies are they that praise]; insomuch
as it was a proverb amongst the Grecians, that he that was praised
to his hurt should have a push^ rise upon his nose; as we say, that a
blister will rise upon one's tongue that tells a lie. Certainly mod-
erate 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 irritate contradiction, and pro-
cure 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 with a kind of magnanimity. The cardi-
nals of Rome, which are theologues, and friars, and Schoolmen,
have a phrase of notable contempt and scorn towards civil business:
for they call all temporal business of wars, embassages, judicature,
and other employments, sbirrerie, which is under-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 inter-
lace, / spea/(^ li^e a fool; but sf)eaking of his calling, he saith, tnag-
nificabo apostolatum meum [I will magnify my mission].

LIV

OF VAIN-GLORY

It was prettily devised of iEsop, The fly sat upon the axle-tree of
the chariot wheel, and said. What a dust do I raise! So are there
some vain f)ersons, that whatsoever goeth alone or moveth upon
greater means, if they have never so litde hand in it, they think
it is they that carry it. They that are glorious must needs be fac-
tious; 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 French prov-
erb, Beaucoup de bruit, peu de fruit; Much bruit, little fruit. Yet

' Pimple.

128 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 yEtolians, 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 some-
times 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 militar commanders and soldiers,
vain-glory is an essential point; for as iron sharpens iron, so by glory'
one courage sharpeneth another. In cases of great enterprise upon
charge and adventure,* a composition of glorious natures doth put
life into business; and those that are of solid and sober natures have
more of the ballast than of the sail. In fame of learning, the flight
will be slow without some feathers of ostentation. Qui de contem-
nenda gloria libros scribiint, nomen, suum inscribunt [They that
write books on the worthlessness of glory, take care to put their
names on the title page]. Socrates, Aristotle, Galen, were men full
of ostentation. Certainly vain-glory help)eth to perpetuate a man's
memory; and virtue was never so beholding to human nature, as
it received his 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 vain-glory, I mean not of that property that Tacitus doth
attribute to Mucianus; Omnium quce dixerat jeceratque arte quadam
ostentator [A man that had a kind of art of setting forth to advan-
tage all that he had said or done]: for that proceeds not of vanity,
but of natural magnanimity and discretion; and in some persons is
not only comely, but gracious. For excusations, cessions, modesty
itself well governed, are but arts of ostentation. And amongst those
arts there is none better than that which Plinius Secundus speaketh
of, which is to be liberal of praise and commendation to others, in
' Boasting. ' Cost and risk.

OF HONOR AND REPUTATION 1 29

that wherein a man's self hath any perfection. For saith Pliny very
wittily, In commending another you do yourself right; for he that
you commend is either superior to you in that you commend, or
inferior. If he be inferior, if he be to be commended, you much
more; if he be superior, if he be not to be commended, you much less.
Glorious men are the scorn of wise men, the admiration of fools, the
idols of parasites, and the slaves of their own vaunts.

LV

OF HONOR AND REPUTATION

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
effect 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 perform that which hath not been attempted be-
fore; or attempted and given over; or hath been achieved, but not
with so good circumstance; he shall purchase more honor, than by
effecting a matter of greater difficulty or virtue, wherein he is but a
follower. If a man so temper his actions, as in some one of them
he doth 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 com-
petitors 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 [All fame proceeds from serv-
ants]. 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 Providence
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
conditores imperiorum, founders of states and commonwealths; such
' Manager. ' Made to shine by competition.

130 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

as were Romulus, Cyrus, Caesar, Ottoman, Ismael. In the second
place are legislatores, lawgivers; which are also called second found-
ers or perpetui principes [perpetual rulers], because they govern by
their ordinances after they are gone; such were Lycurgus, Solon,
Justinian, Eadgar, Alphonsus of Castile, the Wise, that made the
Sicte Partida/ [Seven Parts]. In the third place are liberatores, or
salvatores [saviors], such as compound the long miseries of civil
wars, or deliver their countries from servitude of strangers or ty-
rants; as Augustus Caesar, Vespasianus, Aurelianus, Theodoricus,
King Henry the Seventh of England, King Henry the Fourth of
France. In the fourth place are propagatores or propugnatores im-
perii [champions of the empire]; such as in honorable wars enlarge
their territories, or make noble defence against invaders. And in
the last place are patres patrice [fathers of their country]; 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 [participants in
cares], those uf)on whom princes do discharge the greatest weight
of their affairs; their right hands, as we call them. The next are
duces belli, great leaders [in war]; such as are princes' lieutenants,
and do them notable services in the wars. The third are gratiosi,
favorites; such as exceed not this scanding,* to be solace to the sov-
ereign, and harmless to the people. And the fourth, negotiis pares
[equals in business]; 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 happeneth 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.

LVI

OF JUDICATURE

JuixiEs 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 Scripture doth not stick to add and alter;

' The Spanish code of laws. * Measure.

OF JUDICATURE I3I

and to pronounce that which they do not find; and by show o£
antiquity to introduce novehy. Judges ought to 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 removeth the landmari{.
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
corrupteth the fountain. So saith Solomon, Fons turbatus, et vena
corrupta, est Justus cadens in causa sua coram adversaria [A right-
eous man falling down before the wicked is as a troubled fountain
or a corrupt spring]. The office of judges may have reference unto
the parties that sue, unto the advocates that plead, unto the clerks
and ministers of justice underneath them, and to the sovereign or
state above them.

First, for the causes or parties that sue. There be (saith the Scrip-
ture) 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 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 an high hand, violent prosecution, cunning
advantages taken, combination, p)ower, great counsel, then is the
virtue of a judge seen, to make inequality equal; that he may plant
his judgment as upon an even ground. Qui fortiter emungit, elicit
sanguinem [Violent wringing makes the nose bleed]; 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. Specially 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 Scrip-

' Boundary stone.

132 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

ture speaketh, Pluet super eos laqueos [He will rain snares upon
them] ; 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 wise judges confined
in the execution: Judicis officium est, ut res, ita tempera rerum, etc.
[A judge must have regard to the time as well as to the matter]. 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 merciful eye upon the person.

Secondly, for the advocates and counsel that plead. Patience and
gravity of hearing is an essential part of justice; and an 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 prevent 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 recapitu-
late, 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 bold-
ness of advocates should prevail with judges; whereas they should
imitate God, in whose seat they sit; who represseth the presumptu-
ous, and giveth grace to the modest. But it is more strange, that
judges should have noted favorites; which cannot but cause multi-
plication 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,

* Bandy words.

OF JUDICATURE 1 33

on the other side, let not the judge meet the cause half way, nor
give occasion for the party to say his counsel or proofs were not heard.

Thirdly, for that that concerns clerks and ministers. The place
of justice is an hallowed place; and therefore not only the bench,
but the foot-pace' and precincts and purprise* thereof, ought to be
preserved without scandal and corruption. For certainly grapes (as
the Scripture saith) will not be gathered of thorns or thistles; neither
can justice yield her fruit with sweetness amongst the briars and
brambles of catching and polling' clerks and ministers. The attend-
ance of courts is subject to four bad instruments. First, certain per-
sons that are sowers of suits; which make the court swell, and the
country pine. The second sort is of those that engage courts in quar-
rels of jurisdiction, and are not truly amici curicc, but parasiti curia
[not friends but parasites of the court], 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 proceeding, 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 sovereign and estate.
Judges ought above all to remember the conclusion of the Roman
Twelve Tables; Saltis populi suprema lex [The supreme law of all
is the weal of the people]; and to know that laws, except they be in
order to that end, are but things captious, and oracles not well in-
spired. Therefore it is an happy thing in a state when kings and
states do often consult with judges; and again when judges do often
consult with the king and state: the one, when there is matter of
law intervenient in business of state; the other, when there is some
consideration of state intervenient in matter of law. For many times
the things deduced' to judgment may be meum and tttum [mine
' Lobby. * Enclosure. * Extorting fees. ' Brought into court.

134 "^^^ ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

and thine], when the reason^ and consequence thereof may trench to*
point of estate: I call matter of estate, not only the parts of sov-
ereignty, but whatsoever introduceth any great alteration or danger-
ous precedent; or concerneth 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 circumspxjct that they do not
check or opfwse any points of sovereignty. Let not judges also be
ignorant of their own right, as to think there is not left to them, as
a principal part of their office, a wise use and application of laws.
For they may remember what the apostle saith of a greater law than
theirs; Nos scimus quia lex bona est. modo quis ea utatur legitime
[We know that the law is good, if a man use it lawfully].

LVII

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 inclina-
tion and habit to be angry may be attempered and calmed. Sec-
ondly, 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 meditate and ruminate
well upon the effects of anger, how it troubles man's life. And the
best time to do this is to look back upon anger when the fit is
thoroughly over. Seneca saith well. That anger is like ruin, which
breads itself upon that it jails. The Scripture exhorteth us to possess
our souls in patience. Whosoever is out of patience, is out of possev
sion of his soul. Men must not turn bees;

. . . animasque in vulnere ponunt
[that put their lives in the sting].

' Principle. • Touch. • Boast.

OF ANGER 135

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 ingenious in picking out circumstances
of contempt, they do kindle their anger much. Lastly, opinion of the
touch of a man's reputation doth multiply and sharpen anger.
Wherein the remedy is, that a man should have, as Consalvo was
wont to say, telam honoris crassiorem fan honor of a stouter web].
But in all refrainings of anger, it is the best remedy to win time;
and to make a man's self believe, that the opportunity of his revenge
is not yet come, but that he foresees a time for it; and so to still him-
self in the meantime, and reserve it.

To contain anger from mischief, though it take hold of a man,
there be two things whereof you must have special caution. The
one, of extreme bitterness of words, especially if they be aculeate*
and proper;' for cummunia maledicta [common revilings] are noth-
ing 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 howso-
ever you show bitterness, do not act anything that is not revocable.

For raising and appeasing anger in another; it is done chiefly by
choosing of times, when men are frowardest and worst disposed, to
incense them. Again, by gathering (as was touched before) all that
you can find out to aggravate the contempt. And the two remedies
are by the contraries. The former to take good times, when first
' Stinging. * Personal.

136 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

to relate to a man an angry business; for the first impression is much;
and the other is, to sever, as much as may be, the construction of the
injury from the point of contempt; imputing it to misunderstand-
ing, fear, passion, or what you will.

LVIII

OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS

Solomon saith. There is no new thing upon the earth. So that as
Plato had an imagination. That all l{nowledge was but remem-
brance; so Solomon 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, // // were not for two things that are constant {the one is, that
the fixed stars ever stand a lil{e distance one from another, and never
come nearer, together, nor go further asunder; the other, that the
diurnal motion perpetually \eepeth time), no individual would last
one moment. Certain it is, that the matter is in a perpetual flux,
and never at a stay. The great winding-sheets, that bury all things
in oblivion, are two; deluges and earthquakes. As for conflagra-
tions and great droughts, they do not merely dispeople and 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 remnant of people
which hap to be reserved, are commonly ignorant and mountainous
people, that can give no account of the time past; so that the oblivion
is all one as if none had been left. If you consider well of the people
of the West Indies, it is very probable 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 concern-
ing the island of Atlantis, that it was swallowed by an earthquat^e),
but rather that it was desolated by a particular deluge. For earth-
quakes are seldom in those parts. But on the other side, they have

OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS I37

such pouring rivers, as the rivers of Asia and Africk 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 generation of men were in such a particular deluge saved. As for
the observation that Machiavel hath, that the jealousy of sects doth
much extinguish the memory of things; traducing Gregory the
Great, that he did what in him lay to extinguish all heathen an-
tiquities; 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 of mutations in the superior globe* are no fit mat-
ter for this present argument. It may be, Plato's great year,' if the
world should last so long, would have some effect; not in renewing
the state of like individuals (for that is the fume of those that con-
ceive the celestial bodies have more accurate influences upon these
things below than indeed they have), but in gross. Comets, out of
question, have likewise pwwer and effect over the gross and mass of
things; but they are rather gazed upon, and waited upon in their
journey, than wisely observed in their effects; specially in their re-
spective effects; that is, what kind of comet, for magnitude, color,
version of the beams, placing in the reign 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 weathers comes about
again; as great frosts, great wet, great droughts, warm winters, sum-
mers 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 roc^; the rest are tossed upon the waves
of time. To speak, therefore, of the causes of new sects; and to give

' The Pope who succeeded Gregory the Great. ' The heavens.

' When the great cycle of all the heavenly motions shall be completed.

138 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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 licence to pleasures and a voluptuous life. For as for specu-
lative heresies (such as were in ancient times the Arians, and now
the Arminians), though they work mightily upon men's wits, yet
they do not produce any great alterations in states; except it be by
the help of civil occasions. There be three manner of plantations of
new sects. By the power of signs and miracles; by the eloquence and
wisdom of speech and persuasion; and by the sword. For martyr-
doms, I reckon them amongst miracles; because they seem to exceed
the strength of human nature: and I may do the like of superlative
and admirable holiness of life. Surely there is no better way to stop
the rising of new sects and schisms than to reform abuses; to com-
pound the smaller differences; to proceed mildly, and not with
sanguinary persecutions; and rather to take off the principal authors
by winning and advancing them, than to enrage them by violence
and bitterness.

The changes and 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-Grecia, 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

* Fear.

OF VICISSITUDE OF THINGS I39

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 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 courages warmest.

Upon the breaking and shivering of a great state and empire, you
may be sure to have wars. For great empires, while they stand, do
enervate and destroy the forces of the natives which they have sub-
dued, resting upon their own protecting forces; and then when they
fail also, all goes to ruin, and they become a prey. So was it in the
decay of the Roman empire; and likewise in the empire of Almaigne,
after Charles the Great, every bird taking a feather; and were not
unlike to 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 over-
flow. As it hath been seen in the states of Rome, Turkey, Spain, and
others. Look when the world hath fewest barbarous peoples, 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 sustentation, it is of necessity that once in an age or two
they discharge a portion of their people upon other nations; which
the ancient northern people were wont to do by lot; casting lots what
part should stay at home, and what should seek their fortunes.
When a warlike state grows soft and effeminate, they may be sure
of a war. For 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 Oxidrakes 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

140 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

in China above two thousand years. The conditions of weapons,
and their improvement, are; First, the fetching afar off; for that out-
runs the danger; as it is seen in ordnance and muskets. Secondly,
the strength of the percussion; wherein Ukewise ordnance do exceed
all arietations' and ancient inventions. The third is, the commodious
use of them; as that they may serve in all weathers; that the carriage
may be light and manageable; and the like.

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

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 merchandize. Learn-
ing hath his infancy, when it is but beginning and almost childish;
then his youth, when it is luxuriant and juvenile; then his strength
of years, when it is solid and reduced;' and lasdy, his 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.

LIX

OF fame'

A Fragment

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 feathers she hath, so many eyes she hath underneath;
so many tongues; so many voices; she pricks up so many ears.

* Battering-rams. • Battalions. ^ Brought within bounds. * History.
' Fame is used here in the two tenses of reputation and rumor.

OF FAME 141

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 passeth all the rest is: They do recount that the
Earth, mother of the giants that made war against Jupiter and were
by him destroyed, thereupon in an anger brought forth Fame. For
certain it is that rebels, figured by the giants, and seditious fames
and libels 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 somewhat worth. But we are infected with the style of
the poets. To speak now in a sad and serious manner: There is not
in all the politics a place less handled and more worthy to be handled
than this of fame. We will therefore speak of these points: What
are false fames; and what are true fames; and how they may be best
discerned; how fames may be sown and raised; how they may be
spread and multiplied; and how they may be checked and laid dead.
And other things concerning the nature of fame. Fame is of that
force, as there is scarcely any great action wherein it hath not a great
part; especially in the war. Mucianus undid Vitellius by a fame
that he scattered: that Vitellius had in purpose to remove the legions
of Syria into Germany and the legions of Germany into Syria;
whereupon the legions of Syria were infinitely inflamed. Julius
Cjesar took Pompey unprovided and laid asleep his industry and
preparations by a fame that he cunningly gave out: Caesar's own
soldiers loved him not, and being wearied with the wars and laden
with the spoils of Gaul, would forsake him as soon as he came into
Italy. Livia settled all things for the succession of her son Tiberius
by continual giving out that her husband Augustus was upon recov-
ery and amendment. And it is an usual thing with the pashas to con-
ceal the death of the Great Turk from the janizaries' and men of
war, to save the sacking of Constantinople and other towns, as their
manner is. Themistocles made Xerxes, king of Persia, post apace
out of Grecia by giving out that the Grecians had a purpose to
'The Sultan's bodyguard.

142 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON

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; because a man meeteth with them
everywhere. Therefore let all wise governors have as great a watch
and care over fames as they have of the actions and designs them-
selves.

[The essay was not finished.]

THE NEW ATLANTIS

BY

SIR FRANQS BACON

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Bacon's literary executor, Dr. Rawley, published "The New Atlantis"
in 1627, the year after the author's death. It seems to have been written
about 1623, during that period of literary activity which followed Bacon's
political fall. None of Bacon's writings gives in short space so vivid a
picture of his tastes and aspirations as this fragment of the plan of an
ideal commonwealth. The generosity and enlightenment, the dignity
and splendor, the piety and public spirit, of the inhabitants of Bensalem
represent the ideal qualities which Bacon the statesman desired rather
than hoped to see characteristic of his own country; and in Solomon's
House we have Bacon the scientist indulging without restriction his
prophetic vision of the future of human knowledge. No reader ac-
quainted in any degree with the processes and results of modern scien-
tific inquiry can fail to be struck by the numerous approximations made
by Bacon's imagination to the actual achievements of modern times. The
plan and organi2:ation of his great college lay down the main lines of
the modern research university; and both in pure and applied science he
anticipates a strikingly large number of recent inventions and dis-
coveries. In still another way is "The New Adantis" typical of Bacon's
attitude. In spite of the enthusiastic and broad-minded schemes he laid
down for the pursuit of truth. Bacon always had an eye to utility. The
advancement of science which he sought was conceived by him as a
means to a practical end — the increase of man's control over nature, and
the comfort and convenience of humanity. For pure metaphysics, or any
form of abstract thinking that yielded no "fruit," he had litde interest;
and this leaning to the useful is shown in the practical applications of
the discoveries made by the scholars of Solomon's House. Nor does the
interest of the work stop here. It contains much, both in its political
and in its scientific ideals, that we have as yet by no means achieved, but
which contain valuable elements of suggestion and stimulus for the
future.

THE NEW ATLANTIS

WE SAILED from Peru, (where we had continued by the
space of one whole year,) for China and Japan, by the
South Sea; taking with us victuals for twelve months;
and had good winds from the east, though soft and weak, for five
months space, and more. But then the wind came about, and settled
in the west for many days, so as we could make little or no way, and
were sometimes in purpose to turn back. But then again there
arose strong and great winds from the south, with a point east,
which carried us up (for all that we could do), towards the north;
by which time our victuals failed us, though we had made good
spare of them. So that finding ourselves, in the midst of the greatest
wilderness of waters in the world, without victuals, we gave our-
selves for lost men and prepared for death. Yet we did lift up our
hearts and voices to God above, who showeth his wonders in the
deep, beseeching him of his mercy, that as in the beginning he dis-
covered the face of the deep, and brought forth dry land, so he would
now discover land to us, that we might not perish.

And it came to pass that the next day about evening, we saw
within a kenning' before us, towards the north, as it were thick
clouds, which did put us in some hope of land; knowing how that
part of the South Sea was utterly unknown; and might have islands,
or continents, that hitherto were not come to light. Wherefore we
bent our course thither, where we saw the appearance of land, all
that night; and in the dawning of the next day, we might plainly
discern that it was a land; flat to our sight, and full of boscage;'
which made it show the more dark. And artei an hour and a half's
sailing, we entered into a good haven, being the port of a fair city;
not great indeed, but well built, and that gave a pleasant view from
the sea: and we thinking every minute long, till we were on land,
came close to the shore, and offered to land. But straightways we
saw divers of the people, with bastons' in their hands (as it were)
' Within sight. * Woods. ' Staves.
145

146 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

forbidding us to land; yet without any cries of fierceness, but only
as warning us off, by signs that they made. Whereupon being not a
little discomforted,* we were advising with ourselves, what we
should do.

During which time, there made forth to us a small boat, with
about eight persons in it; whereof one of them had in his hand a
tipstaff of a yellow cane, tipped at both ends with blue, who came
aboard our ship, without any show of distrust at all. And when he
saw one of our number, present himself somewhat before the rest,
he drew forth a little scroll of parchment (somewhat yellower than
our parchment, and shining like the leaves of writing tables, but
otherwise soft and flexible,) and delivered it to our foremost man.
In which scroll were written in ancient Hebrew, and in ancient
Greek, and in good Latin of the school,' and in Spanish, these words:
Land ye not, none of you; and provide to be gone, from this coast,
within sixteen days, except you have further time given you. Mean-
while, if you want fresh water or victuals, or help for your sicl{,
or that your ship needeth repairs, write down your wants, and
you shall have that, which belongeth to mercy. This scroll was
signed with a stamp of cherubim's wings, not spread, but hang-
ing downwards; and by them a cross. This being delivered,
the officer returned, and left only a servant with us to receive our
answer.

Consulting hereupon amongst ourselves, we were much perplexed.
The denial of landing and hasty warning us away troubled us much;
on the other side, to find that the people had languages, and were so
full of humanity, did comfort us not a little. And above all, the
sign of the cross to that instrument was to us a great rejoicing, and
as it were a certain presage of good. Our answer was in the Span-
ish tongue; That for our ship, it was well; for we had rather met
with calms and contrary winds than any tempests. For our sicl{,
they were many, and in very ill case; so that if they were not per-
mitted to land, they ran danger of their lives. Our other wants we
set down in particular; adding. That we had some little store of
merchandise, which if it pleased them to deal for, it might supply our
wants, without being chargeable unto them. We offered some re-
* Discouraged. ' Academic, as opposed to popular, Latin.

THE NEW ATLANTIS I47

ward in pistolets' unto the servant, and a piece of crimson velvet
to be presented to the officer; but the servant took them not, nor
would scarce look upon them; and so left us, and went back in
another little boat, which was sent for him.

About three hours after we had dispatched our answer, there
came towards us a f)erson (as it seemed) of place. He had on him
a gown with wide sleeves, of a kind of water chamolet,' of an excel-
lent azure colour, far more glossy than ours; his under apparel was
green; and so was his hat, being in the form of a turban, daintily
made, and not so huge as the Turkish turbans; and the locks of his
hair came down below the brims of it. A reverend man was he to
behold. He came in a boat, gilt in some part of it, with four persons
more only in that boat; and was followed by another boat, wherein
were some twenty. When he was come within a flightshot' of our
ship, signs were made to us, that we should send forth some to meet
him upon the water; which we presently did in our ship-boat, send-
ing the principal man amongst us save one, and four of our number
with him.

When we were come within six yards of their boat, they called
to us to stay, and not to approach farther; which we did. And there-
upon the man, whom I before described, stood up, and with a loud
voice, in Spanish, asked, "Are ye Christians?" We answered, "We
were;" fearing the less, because of the cross we had seen in the sub-
scription. At which answer the said person lifted up his right hand
towards Heaven, and drew it sofdy to his mouth (which is the
gesture they use, when they thank God;) and then said: "If ye will
swear (all of you) by the merits of the Saviour, that ye are no pirates,
nor have shed blood, lawfully, nor unlawfully within forty days
past, you may have licence to come on land." We said, "We were
all ready to take that oath." Whereupon one of those that were
with him, being (as it seemed) a notary, made an entry of this act.
Which done, another of the attendants of the great person which
was with him in the same boat, after his Lord had spoken a little
to him, said aloud: "My Lord would have you know, that it is not
of pride, or greatness, that he cometh not aboard your ship; but for

' Pistoles, Spanish gold coins. ' Camlet with a wavy surface.
' A flight was a light arrow.

148 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

that in your answer you declare that you have many sick amongst
you, he was warned by the Conservator of Heahh of the city that
he should keep a distance." We bowed ourselves towards him, and
answered, "We were his humble servants; and accounted for great
honour, and singular humanity towards us, that which was already
done; but hoped well, that the nature of the sickness of our men
was not infectious." So he returned; and a while after came the
Notary to us aboard our ship; holding in his hand a fruit of that
country, like an orange, but of color between orange-tawney and
scarlet; which cast a most excellent odour. He used it (as it seemeth)
for a preservative against infection. He gave us our oath; "By the
name of Jesus, and his merits:" and after told us, that the next day,
by six of the Clock, in the Morning, we should be sent to, and
brought to the Strangers' House, (so he called it,) where we should
be accommodated of things, both for our whole, and for our sick. So
he left us; and when we offered him some pistolets, he smiling said,
"He must not be twice paid for one labour:" meaning (as I take it)
that he had salary sufficient of the State for his service. For (as I after
learned) they call an officer that taketh rewards, twice paid.

The next morning early, there came to us the same officer that
came to us at first with his cane, and told us, "He came to con-
duct us to the Strangers' House; and that he had prevented' the
hour, because'" we might have the whole day before us, for our
business. For," he said, "if you will follow my advice, there shall
first go with me some few of you, and see the place, and how it may
be made convenient for you; and then you may send for your sick,
and the rest of your number, which ye will bring on land." We
thanked him, and said, "That this care, which he took of desolate
strangers, God would reward." And so six of us went on land with
him: and when we were on land, he went before us, and turned to
us, and said, "He was but our servant, and our guide." He led us
through three fair streets; and all the way we went, there were
gathered some people on both sides, standing in a row; but in so
civil a fashion, as if it had been, not to wonder at us, but to welcome
us: and divers of them, as we passed by them, put their arms a litde
abroad;" which is their gesture, when they did bid any welcome.
'Come before. '"In order that. " Stretched out.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 1 49

The Strangers' House is a fair and spacious house, built of brick,
of somewhat a bluer colour than our brick; and with handsome
windows, some of glass, some of a kind of cambric oiled. He brought
us first into a fair parlour above stairs, and then asked us, "What
number of p)ersons we were? And how many sick?" We answered,
"We were in all, (sick and whole,) one and fifty persons, whereof
our sick were seventeen." He desired us to have patience a litde, and
to stay till he came back to us; which was about an hour after; and
then he led us to see the chambers which were provided for us,
being in number nineteen : they having cast" it (as it seemeth) that
four of those chambers, which were better than the rest, might re-
ceive four of the principal men of our company; and lodge them
alone by themselves; and the other fifteen chambers were to lodge
us two and two together. The chambers were handsome and cheer-
ful chambers, and furnished civilly." Then he led us to a long
gallery, like a dorture," where he showed us all along the one
side (for the other side was but wall and window), seventeen cells,
very neat ones, having partitions of cedar wood. Which gallery and
cells, being in all forty, (many more than we needed,) were in-
stituted as an infirmary for sick persons. And he told us withal,
that as any of our sick waxed well, he might be removed from his
cell, to a chamber; for which purpose there were set forth ten spare
chambers, besides the number we spake of before. This done, he
brought us back to the parlour, and lifting up his cane a litde, (as
they do when they give any charge or command) said to us, "Ye
are to know, that the custom of the land requireth, that after this
day and to-morrow, (which we give you for removing of your
people from your ship,) you are to keep within doors for three days.
But let it not trouble you, nor do not think yourselves restrained,
but rather left to your rest and ease. You shall want nothing, and
there are six of our people appointed to attend you, for any busi-
ness you may have abroad." We gave him thanks, with all affection
and respect, and said, "God surely is manifested in this land." We
offered him also twenty pistolets; but he smiled, and only said;
"What? twice paid!" And so he left us.

Soon after our dinner was served in; which was right good
" Planned. " Respectably. '* Dormitory.

150 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

viands, both for bread and meat; better than any collegiate diet,
that I have known in Europe. We had also drink of three sorts,
all wholesome and good; wine of the grape; a drink of grain, such
as is with us our ale, but more clear: And a kind of cider made of a
fruit of that country; a wonderful pleasing and refreshing drink.
Besides, there were brought in to us, great store of those scarlet
oranges, for our sick; which (they said) were an assured remedy
for sickness taken at sea. There was given us also, a box of small
gray, or whitish pills, which they wished our sick should take, one
of the pills, every night before sleep; which (they said) would hasten
their recovery.

The next day, after that our trouble of carriage and removing of
our men and goods out of our ship, was somewhat settled and quiet,
I thought good to call our company together; and when they were
assembled, said unto them; "My dear friends, let us know ourselves,
and how it standeth with us. We are men cast on land, as Jonas
was, out of the whale's belly, when we were as buried in the deep:
and now we are on land, we are but between death and life; for we
are beyond, both the old world, and the new; and whether ever we
shall see Europe, God only knoweth. It is a kind of miracle hath
brought us hither: and it must be little less, that shall bring us hence.
Therefore in regard of our deliverance past, and our danger pres-
ent, and to come, let us look up to God, and every man reform his
own ways. Besides we are come here amongst a Christian jjeople,
full of piety and humanity: let us not bring that confusion of face
upon ourselves, as to show our vices, or unworthiness before them.
Yet there is more. For they have by commandment, (though in
form of courtesy) cloistered us within these walls, for three days:
who knoweth, whether it be not, to take some taste of our man-
ners and conditions?" and if they find them bad, to banish us
straight ways; if good, to give us further time. For these men that
they have given us for attendance, may withal have an eye upon us.
Therefore for God's love, and as we love the weal of our souls and
bodies, let us so behave ourselves, as we may be at peace with God,
and may find grace in the eyes of this people." Our company with
one voice thanked me for my good admonition, and promised me

'^ Dispositions.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 151

to live soberly and civilly, and without giving any the least occasion
of offence. So we spent our three days joyfully, and without care,
in expectation what would be done with us, when they were expired.
During which time, we had every hour joy of the amendment of
our sick; who thought themselves cast into some divine pool of
healing; they mended so kindly," and so fast.

The morrow after our three days were past, there came to us a
new man, that we had not seen before, clothed in blue as the former
was, save that his turban was white, with a small red cross on the
top. He had also a tippet of fine linen. At his coming in, he did
bend to us a little, and put his arms abroad. We of our parts saluted
him in a very lowly and submissive manner; as looking that from
him, we should receive sentence of life, or death: he desired to
speak with some few of us: whereupon six of us only staid, and the
rest avoided" the room. He said, "I am by office governor of this
House of Strangers, and by vocation I am a Christian priest: and
therefore am come to you to offer you my service, both as strangers
and chiefly as Christians. Some things I may tell you, which I think
you will not be unwilling to hear. The State hath given you license
to stay on land, for the space of six weeks; and let it not trouble
you, if your occasions ask further time, for the law in this point is
not precise; and I do not doubt, but my self shall be able, to obtain
for you such further time, as may be convenient. Ye shall also
understand, that the Strangers' House is at this time rich, and much
aforehand; for it hath laid up revenue these thirty-seven years; for
so long it is since any stranger arrived in this part: and therefore
take ye no care; the State will defray" you all the time you stay;
neither shall you stay one day the less for that. As for any mer-
chandise ye have brought, ye shall be well used, and have your re-
turn, either in merchandise, or in gold and silver: for to us it is all
one. And if you have any other request to make, hide it not. For
ye shall find we will not make your countenance to fall by the an-
swer ye shall receive. Only this I must tell you, that none of you
must go above a karan" (that is with them a mile and an half)
"from the walls of the city, without especial leave."

We answered, after we had looked awhile one upon another,
'• Naturally. " Left. '* Pay expenses.

152 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

admiring" this gracious and parent-like usage; "That we could not
tell what to say: for we wanted words to express our thanks; and his
noble free offers left us nothing to ask. It seemed to us, that we had
before us a picture of our salvation in Heaven; for we that were
a while since in the jaws of death, were now brought into a place,
where we found nothing but consolations. For the commandment
laid upon us, we would not fail to obey it, though it was impossible
but our hearts should be enflamed to tread further upon this happy
and holy ground." We added; "That our tongues should first
cleave to the roofs of our mouths, ere we should forget, either his
reverend person, or this whole nation, in our prayers." We also
most humbly besought him, to accept of us as his true servants, by
as just a right as ever men on earth were bounden; laying and
presenting, both our persons, and all we had, at his feet. He said;
"He was a priest, and looked for a priest's reward; which was our
brotherly love, and the good of our souls and bodies." So he went
from us, not without tears of tenderness in his eyes; and left us
also confused with joy and kindness, saying amongst ourselves;
"That we were come into a land of angels, which did appear to us
daily, and present us with comforts, which we thought not of, much
less expected."

The next day about ten of the clock, the Governor came to us
again, and after salutations, said familiarly; "That he was come to
visit us;" and called for a chair, and sat him down: and we, being
some ten of us, (the rest were of the meaner sort, or else gone
abroad,) sat down with him. And when we were set, he began
thus: "We of this island of Bensalem," (for so they call it in their
language,) "have this; that by means of our solitary situation; and
of the laws of secrecy, which we have for our travellers, and our
rare admission of strangers; we know well most part of the habit-
able world, and are ourselves unknown. Therefore because he that
knoweth least is fittest to ask questions, it is more reason, for the en-
tertainment of the time, that ye ask me questions, than that I ask you."

We answered; "That we humbly thanked him that he would
give us leave so to do: and that we conceived by the taste we had
already, that there was no worldly thing on earth, more worthy to

"Wondering at.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 1 53

be known than the state of that happy land. But above all," (we
said,) "since that we were met from the several ends of the world,
and hoped assuredly that we should meet one day in the kingdom
of Heaven, (for that we were both parts Christians,) we desired to
know, (in respect that land was so remote, and so divided by vast
and unknown seas, from the land where our Saviour walked on
earth,) who was the apostle of that nation, and how it was converted
to the faith?" It appeared in his face that he took great content-
ment in this our question: he said; "Ye knit my heart to you, by
asking this question in the first place; for it sheweth that you first
see\ the /{ingJom of heaven; and I shall gladly, and briefly, satisfy
your demand.

"About twenty years after the ascension of our Saviour, it came
to pass, that there was seen by the people of Renfusa, (a city upon
the eastern coast of our island,) within night, (the night was cloudy,
and calm,) as it might be some mile into the sea, a great pillar of
light; not sharp, but in form of a column, or cylinder, rising from
the sea a great way up towards heaven; and on the top of it was seen
a large cross of light, more bright and resplendent than the body
of the pillar. Upon which so strange a spectacle, the p)eople of the
city gathered apace together upon the sands, to wonder; and so
after put themselves into a number of small boats, to go nearer to
this marvellous sight. But when the boats were come within
(about) sixty yards of the pillar, they found themselves all bound,
and could go no further; yet so as they might move to go about,
but might not approach nearer: so as the boats stood all as in a
theatre, beholding this light as an heavenly sign. It so fell out, that
there was in one of the boats one of the wise men, of the society of
Salomon's House; which house, or college (my good brethren) is
the very eye of this kingdom; who having awhile attentively and
devoudy viewed and contemplated this pillar and cross, fell down
upon his face; and then raised himself upon his knees, and lifting
up his hands to heaven, made his prayers in this manner.

" 'LORD God of heaven and earth, thou hast vouchsafed of thy grace
to those of our order, to know thy works of Creation, and the secrets of
them: and to discern (as far as appertaineth to the generations of men)
between divine miracles, works of nature, works of art, and im{x>stures

154 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

and illusions of all sorts. I do here acknowledge and testify before this
people, that the thing which we now see before our eyes is thy Finger
and a true Miracle. And forasmuch as we learn in our books that thou
never workest miracles, but to a divine and excellent end, (for the laws
of nature are thine own laws, and thou exceedest them not but upon
great cause,) we most humbly beseech thee to prosper this great sign,
and to give us the interpretation and use of it in mercy; which thou dost
in some part secredy promise by sending it unto us.*

"When he had made his prayer, he presently found the boat he
was in, moveable and unbound; whereas all the rest remained still
fast; and taking that for an assurance of leave to approach, he
caused the boat to be softly and with silence rowed towards the
pillar. But ere he came near it, the pillar and cross of light brake
up, and cast itself abroad, as it were, into a firmament of many
stars; which also vanished soon after, and there was nothing left
to be seen, but a small ark, or chest of cedar, dry, and not wet at all
with water, though it swarr.. And in the fore-end of it, which was
towards him, grew a small green branch of palm; and when the
wise man had taken it, with all reverence, into his boat, it opened
of itself, and there were found in it a Book and a Letter; both writ-
ten in fine parchment, and wrapped in sindons^" of linen. The Book
contained all the canonical books of the Old and New Testament,
according as you have them; (for we know well what the churches
with you receive) ; and the Apocalypse itself, and some other books
of the New Testament, which were not at that time written, were
nevertheless in the Book. And for the Letter, it was in these words:

" 'I Bartholomew, a servant of the Highest, and Apostle of Jesus Christ,
was warned by an angel that appeareth to me, in a vision of glory, that
I should commit this ark to the floods of the sea. Therefore I do testify
and declare unto that people where God shall ordain this ark to come
to land, that in the same day is come unto them salvation and peace and
good-will, from the Father, and from the Lord Jesus.'

"There was also in both these writings, as well the Book, as
the Letter, wrought a great miracle, conform" to that of the Apos-
tles, in the original Gift of Tongues. For there being at that time in
this land Hebrews, Persians, and Indians, besides the natives, every
20 Pieces. " Similar.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 1 55

one read upon the Book, and Letter, as if they had been written in his
own language. And thus was this land saved from infidelity (as
the remainder of the old world was from water) by an ark, through
the apostolical and miraculous evangelism of Saint Bartholomew."
And here he paused, and a messenger came, and called him from
us. So this was all that passed in that conference.

The next day, the same governor came again to us, immediately
after dinner, and excused himself, saying: "That the day before he
was called from us, somewhat abruptly, but now he would make us
amends, and spend time with us if we held his company and con-
ference agreeable." We answered, "That we held it so agreeable
and pleasing to us, as we forgot both dangers past and fears to come,
for the time we hear him speak; and that we thought an hour spent
with him, was worth years of our former life." He bowed himself a
little to us, and after we were set again, he said; "Well, the ques-
tions are on your part."

One of our number said, after a little pause; that there was a
matter, we were no less desirous to know, than fearful to ask, lest
we might presume too far. But encouraged by his rare humanity
towards us, (that could scarce think ourselves strangers, being his
vowed and professed servants,) we would take the hardiness to
propound it: humbly beseeching him, if he thought it not fit to be
answered, that he would pardon it, though he rejected it. We said;
"We well observed those his words, which he formerly spake, that
this happy island, where we now stood, was known to few, and yet
knew most of the nations of the world; which we found to be true,
considering they had the languages of Europe, and knew much of
our state and business; and yet we in Europe, (notwithstanding all
the remote discoveries and navigations of this last age), never heard
of the least inkling or glimpse of this island. This we found won-
derful strange; for that all nations have inter-knowledge one of
another, either by voyage into foreign parts, or by strangers that
come to them: and though the traveller into a foreign country, doth
commonly know more by the eye, than he that stayeth at home can
by relation of the traveller; yet both ways suffice to make a mutual
knowledge, in some degree, on both parts. But for this island, we
never heard tell of any ship of theirs that had been seen to arrive

156 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

upon any shore of Europe; nor of either the East or West Indies;
nor yet of any ship of any other part of the world, that had made
return from them. And yet the marvel rested not in this. For the
situation of it (as his lordship said) in the secret conclave" of such
a vast sea might cause it. But then, that they should have knowledge
of the languages, books, affairs, of those that lie such a distance
from them, it was a thing we could not tell what to make of; for
that it seemed to us a condition'* and propriety" of divine powers
and beings, to be hidden and unseen to others, and yet to have
others open and as in a light to them."

At this speech the Governor gave a gracious smile, and said;
"That we did well to ask pardon for this question we now asked:
for that it imported, as if we thought this land, a land of magicians,
that sent forth spirits of the air into all parts, to bring them news
and intelligence of other countries." It was answered by us all, in
all possible humbleness, but yet with a countenance taking knowl-
edge, that we knew that he spake it but merrily, "That we were apt
enough to think there was somewhat supernatural in this island;
but yet rather as angelical than magical. But to let his lordship know
truly what it was that made us tender and doubtful to ask this
question, it was not any such conceit," but because we remembered,
he had given a touch" in his former sf)eech, that this land had laws
of secrecy touching strangers." To this he said; "You remember it
aright and therefore in that I shall say to you, I must reserve some
particulars, which it is not lawful for me to reveal; but there will
be enough left, to give you satisfaction.

"You shall understand (that which perhaps you will scarce think
credible) that about three thousand years ago, or somewhat more,
the navigation of the world, (especially for remote voyages,) was
greater than at this day. Do not think with yourselves, that I know
not how much it is increased with you, within these six-score years:
I know it well: and yet I say greater then than now; whether it
was, that the example of the ark, that saved the remnant of men
from the universal deluge, gave men confidence to adventure upon
the waters; or what it was; but such is the truth. The Phoenicians,
and especially the Tyrians, had great fleets. So had the Cartha-
" Private room. "Property. "Quality. ^•idea. ''Hint.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 157

ginians their colony, which is yet further west. Toward the east
the shipping of Egypt and of Palestina was Hkewise great. China
also, and the great Atlantis, (that you call America,) which have
now but junks and canoes, abounded then in tall ships. This island,
(as appeareth by faithful registers of those times,) had then fifteen
hundred strong ships, of great content. Of all this, there is with
you sparing memory, or none; but we have large knowledge
thereof.

"At that time, this land was known and frequented by the ships
and vessels of all the nations before named. And (as it cometh to
pass) they had many times men of other countries, that were no
sailors, that came with them; as Persians, Chaldeans, Arabians; so
as almost all nations of might and fame resorted hither; of whom
we have some stirps," and little tribes with us at this day. And for
our own ships, they went sundry voyages, as well to your straits,
which you call the Pillars of Hercules, as to other parts in the At-
lantic and Mediterrane Seas; as to Paguin, (which is the same with
Cambaline,") and Quinzy, upon the Oriental Seas, as far as to the
borders of the East Tartary.

"At the same time, and an age after, or more, the inhabitants of
the great Adantis did flourish. For though the narration and de-
scription, which is made by a great man"" with you; that the de-
scendants of Neptune planted" there; and of the magnificent temple,
palace, city, and hill; and the manifold streams of goodly navigable
rivers, (which as so many chains environed the same site and tem-
ple); and the several degrees of ascent, whereby men did climb
up to the same, as if it had been a scala caeli^^ be all poetical and
fabulous: yet so much is true, that the said country of Adantis, as
well that of Peru, then called Coya, as that of Mexico, then named
Tyrambel, were mighty and proud kingdoms in arms, shipping and
riches: so mighty, as at one time (or at least within the space of ten
years) they both made two great expeditions; they of Tyrambel
through the Atlantic to the Mediterrane Sea; and they of Coya
through the South Sea upon this our island: and for the former of
these, which was into Europe, the same author amongst you (as it

"Families. "Cambalu, Pekin. "Plato, in the "Critias." "Settled,
u Ladder to heaven.

158 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

seemeth) had some relation from the Egyptian priest whom he
cited. For assuredly such a thing there was. But whether it were
the ancient Athenians that had the glory of the repulse and re-
sistance of those forces, I can say nothing: but certain it is, there
never came back either ship or man from that voyage. Neither
had the other voyage of those of Coya upon us had better fortune,
if they had not met with enemies of greater clemency. For the
king of this island, (by name Altabin,) a wise man and a great
warrior, knowing well both his own strength and that of his ene-
mies, handled the matter so, as he cut off their land-forces from
their ships; and entoiled" both their navy and their camp with a
greater power than theirs, both by sea and land: and compelled
them to render themselves without striking stroke: and after they
were at his mercy, contenting himself only with their oath that
they should no more bear arms against him, dismissed them all in
safety.

"But the divine revenge overtook not long after those proud en-
terprises. For within less than the space of one hundred years, the
great Adantis was utterly lost and destroyed: not by a great earth-
quake, as your man saith; (for that whole tract is little subject to
earthquakes;) but by a particular" deluge or inundation; those
countries having, at this day, far greater rivers and far higher moun-
tains to pour down waters, than any part of the old world. But it
is true that the same inundation was not deep; not past forty foot,
in most places, from the ground; so that although it destroyed man
and beast generally, yet some few wild inhabitants of the wood
escaped. Birds also were saved by flying to the high trees and woods.
For as for men, although they had buildings in many places, higher
than the depth of the water, yet that inundation, though it were
shallow, had a long continuance; whereby they of the vale that
were not drowned, perished for want of food and other things neces-
sary.

"So as marvel you not at the thin population of America, nor at

the rudeness and ignorance of the people; for you must account

your inhabitants of America as a young people; younger a thousand

years, at the least, than the rest of the world: for that there was so

** Ensnared. " Partial.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 1 59

much time between the universal flood and their particular inun-
dation. For the poor remnant of human seed, which remained in
their mountains, peopled the country again slowly, by little and lit-
tle; and being simple and savage people, (not like Noah and his
sons, which was the chief family of the earth,) they were not able
to leave letters, arts, and civility'^ to their posterity; and having like-
wise in their mountainous habitations been used (in respect of the
extreme cold of those regions) to clothe themselves with the skins
of tigers, bears, and great hairy goats, that they have io those parts;
when after they came down into the valley, and found the intoler-
able heats which are there, and knew no means of lighter apparel,
they were forced to begin the custom of going naked, which con-
tinueth at this day. Only they take great pride and delight in the
feathers of birds; and this also they took from those their ancestors
of the mountains, who were invited unto it by the infinite flights of
birds that came up to the high grounds, while the waters stood
below. So you see, by this main accident of time, we lost our traffic
with the Americans, with whom of all others, in regard they lay
nearest to us, we had most commerce.

"As for the other parts of the world, it is most manifest that in
the ages following (whether it were in resjject of wars, or by a
natural revolution of time,) navigation did every where greatly
decay; and specially far voyages (the rather by the use of galleys,
and such vessels as could hardly brook the ocean,) were altogether
left and omitted. So then, that part of intercourse which could be
from other nations to sail to us, you see how it hath long since
ceased; except it were by some rare accident, as this of yours. But
now of the cessation of that other part of intercourse, which might
be by our sailing to other nations, I must yield you some other
cause. For I cannot say (if I shall say truly,) but our shipping, for
number, strength, mariners, pilots, and all things that appertain to
navigation, is as great as ever; and therefore why we should sit at
home, I shall now give you an account by itself: and it will draw
nearer to give you satisfaction to your principal question.

"There reigned in this land, about nineteen hundred years ago, a
king, whose memory of all others we most adore; not superstitiously,

" Civilization.

l60 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

but as a divine instrument, though a mortal man; his name was
Solamona: and we esteem him as the lawgiver of our nation. This
king had a large heart, inscrutable for good; and was wholly bent
to make his kingdom and people happy. He therefore, taking into
consideration how sufficient and substantive" this land was to main-
tain itself without any aid (at all) of the foreigner; being five thou-
sand six hundred miles in circuit, and of rare fertility of soil in the
greatest part thereof; and finding also the shipping of this country
might be plentifully set on work, both by fishing and by transporta-
tions from port to port, and likewise by sailing unto some small
islands that are not far from us, and are under the crown and laws
of this state; and recalling into his memory the happy and flour-
ishing estate wherein this land then was; so as it might be a thou-
sand ways altered to the worse, but scarce any one way to the bet-
ter; though nothing wanted to his noble and heroical intentions,
but only (as far as human foresight might reach) to give perpe-
tuity to that which was in his time so happily established. Therefore
amongst his other fundamental laws of this kingdom, he did ordain
the interdicts and prohibitions which we have touching entrance of
strangers; which at that time (though it was after the calamity of
America) was frequent; doubting" novelties, and commixture of
manners. It is true, the like law against the admission of strangers
without licence is an ancient law in the kingdom of China, and yet
continued in use. But there it is a poor thing; and hath made them
a curious, ignorant, fearful, foolish nation. But our lawgiver made
his law of another temper. For first, he hath preserved all points of
humanity, in taking order and making provision for the relief of
strangers distressed; whereof you have tasted."

At which speech (as reason was) we all rose up and bowed our-
selves. He went on.

"That king also, still desiring to join humanity and policy to-
gether; and thinking it against humanity, to detain strangers here
against their wills, and against policy that they should return and
discover their knowledge of this estate, he took this course: he did
ordain that of the strangers that should be permitted to land, as
many (at all times) might depart as would; but as many as would
" Self-sufficing. " Fearing.

THE NEW ATLANTIS l6l

Stay should have very good conditions and means to live from the
state. Wherein he saw so far, that now in so many ages since the
prohibition, we have memory not of one ship that ever returned,
and but of thirteen persons only, at several times, that chose to re-
turn in our bottoms. What those few that returned may have re-
ported abroad I know not. But you must think, whatsoever they
have said could be taken where they came but for a dream. Now for
our travelling from hence into parts abroad, our Lawgiver thought
fit altogether to restrain it. So is it not in China. For the Chinese
sail where they will or can; which sheweth that their law of keeping
out strangers is a law of pusillanimity and fear. But this restraint
of ours hath one only exception, which is admirable; preserving the
good which cometh by communicating with strangers, and avoiding
the hurt; and I will now open it to you. And here I shall seem a
litde to digress, but you will by and by find it pertinent.

"Ye shall understand (my dear friends) that amongst the excellent
acts of that king, one above all hath the pre-eminence. It was the
erection and institution of an Order or Society, which we call Salo-
mon's House; the noblest foundation (as we think) that ever was
upon the earth; and the lanthorn of this kingdom. It is dedicated
to the study of the works and creatures of God. Some think it bear-
eth the founder's name a little corrupted, as if it should be Sola-
mona's House. But the records write it as it is spoken. So as I take
it to be denominate of the king of the Hebrews, which is famous
with you, and no stranger to us. For we have some parts of his
works, which with you are lost; namely, that natural history, which
he wrote, of all plants, from the cedar of JJbanus to the moss that
groweth out of the wall, and of all things that have life and motion.
This maketh me think that our king, finding himself to sym-
bolize" in many things with that king of the Hebrews (which lived
many years before him), honored him with the tide of this founda-
tion. And I am rather induced to be of this opinion, for that I find in
ancient records this Order or Society is sometimes called Salomon's
House, and sometimes the College of the Six Days Works; whereby
I am satisfied that our excellent king had learned from the Hebrews
that God had created the world and all that therein is within six
" Named after. " Agree.

1 62 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

days: and therefore he instituting that House for the finding out of
the true nature of all things, (whereby God might have the more
glory in the workmanship of them, and men the more fruit in the
use of them), did give it also that second name.

"But now to come to our present purpose. When the king had for-
bidden to all his people navigation into any part that was not under
his crown, he made nevertheless this ordinance; that every twelve
years there should be set forth, out of this kingdom two ships, ap-
pointed to several voyages; That in either of these ships there should
be a mission of three of the Fellows or Brethren of Salomon's House;
whose errand was only to give us knowledge of the affairs and state
of those countries to which they were designed, and especially of
the sciences, arts, manufactures, and inventions of all the world;
and withal to bring unto us books, instruments, and patterns in every
kind: That the ships, after they had landed the brethren, should re-
turn; and that the brethren should stay abroad till the new mis-
sion. These ships are not otherwise fraught, than with store of
victuals, and good quantity of treasure to remain with the brethren,
for the buying of such things and rewarding of such persons as they
should think fit. Now for me to tell you how the vulgar sort of
mariners are contained*" from being discovered at land; and how
they that must be put on shore for any time, color themselves under
the names of other nations; and to what places these voyages have
been designed; and what places of rendezvous are appointed for the
new missions; and the like circumstances of the practique; I may
not do it: neither is it much to your desire. But thus you see we
maintain a trade not for gold, silver, or jewels; nor for silks; nor
for spices; nor any other commodity of matter; but only for God's
first creature, which was Light: to have light (I say) of the growth
of" all parts of the world."

And when he had said this, he was silent; and so were we all.
For indeed we were all astonished to hear so strange things so
probably told. And he, perceiving that we were willing to say
somewhat but had it not ready in great courtesy took us off, and
descended to ask us questions of our voyage and fortunes and in the
end concluded, that we might do well to think with ourselves what
^^ Prevented. *' Produced in.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 1 63

time of stay we would demand of the state; and bade us not to
scant ourselves; for he would procure such time as we desired.
Whereupon we all rose up, and presented ourselves" to kiss the
skirt of his tippet; but he would not suffer us; and so took his leave.
But when it came once amongst our people that the state used to
offer conditions to strangers that would stay, we had work enough
to get any of our men to look to our ship; and to keep them
from going presently to the governor to crave conditions. But with
much ado we refrained them, till we might agree what course
to take.

We took ourselves now for free men, seeing there was no danger
of our utter perdition; and lived most joyfully, going abroad and
seeing what was to be seen in the city and places adjacent within
our tedder; and obtaining acquaintance with many of the city, not
of the meanest quality; at whose hands we found such humanity,
and such a freedom and desire to take strangers as it were into their
bosom, as was enough to make us forget all that was dear to us
in our own countries: and continually we met with many things
right worthy of observation and relation: as indeed, if there be a
mirror in the world worthy to hold men's eyes, it is that country.

One day there were two of our company bidden to a Feast of
the Family, as they call it. A most natural, pious, and reverend
custom it is, shewing that nation to be compounded of all good-
ness. This is the manner if it. It is granted to any man that shall
live to see thirty persons descended of his body alive together, and
all above three years old, to make this feast which is done at the
cost of the state. The Father of the Family, whom they call the
Tirsan, two days before the feast, taketh to him three of such
friends as he liketh to choose; and is assisted" also by the governor
of the city or place where the feast is celebrated; and all the persons
of the family, of both sexes, are siimmoned to attend him. These
two days the Tirsan sitteth in consultation concerning the good
estate of the family. There, if there be any discord or suits be-
tween any of the family, they are compounded and appeased. There,
if any of the family be distressed or decayed, order is taken for their
relief and competent means to live. There, if any be subject to vice,
« Offered. *' Attended.

164 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

or take ill courses, they are reproved and censured. So likewise
direction is given touching marriages, and the courses of life, which
any of them should take, with divers other the like orders and ad-
vices. The governor assisteth, to the end to put in execution by his
public authority the decrees and orders of the Tirsan, if they should
be disobeyed; though that seldom needeth; such reverence and
obedience they give to the order of nature. The Tirsan doth also
then ever choose one man from among his sons, to live in house
with him; who is called ever after the Son of the Vine. The reason
will hereafter appear.

On the feast day, the father or Tirsan cometh forth after divine
service into a large room where the feast is celebrated; which room
hath an half-pace" at the upper end. Against the wall, in the mid-
dle of the half-pace, is a chair placed for him, with a table and car-
pet before it. Over the chair is a state," made round or oval, and it
is of ivy; an ivy somewhat whiter than ours, like the leaf of a silver
asp," but more shining; for it is green all winter. And the state
is curiously wrought with silver and silk of divers colors, broiding"
or binding in the ivy; and is ever of the work of some of the daugh-
ters of the family; and veiled over at the top with a fine net of
silk and silver. But the substance of it is true ivy; whereof, after it
is taken down, the friends of the family are desirous to have some
leaf or sprig to keep.

The Tirsan cometh forth with all his generation or linage, the
males before him, and the females following him; and if there be
a mother from whose body the whole linage is descended, there is
a traverse** placed in a loft above on the right hand of the chair,
with a privy** door, and a carved window of glass, leaded with
gold and blue; where she sitteth, but is not seen. When the Tirsan
is come forth, he sitteth down in the chair; and all the linage place
themselves against the wall, both at his back and upon the return"
of the half-pace, in order of their years without difference of sex;
and stand upon their feet. When he is set; the room being always
full of company, but well kept and without disorder; after some
pause, there cometh in from the lower end of the room, a taratan

** Dais, platform. ** Canopy. *• Aspen. *' Interlacing. ** Curtain.
" Private. '» Side.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 1 65

(which is as much as an herald) and on either side o£ him two
young lads; whereof one carrieth a scroll of their shining yellow
parchment; and the other a cluster of grapes of gold, with a long foot
or stalk. The herald and children are clothed with mantles of sea-
water green satin; but the herald's mantle is streamed" with gold,
and hath a train.

Then the herald with three curtesies, or rather inclinations, com-
eth up as far as the half-pace; and there first taketh into his hand
the scroll. This scroll is the king's charter, containing gifts of reve-
new, and many privileges, exemptions, and points of honour, granted
to the Father of the Family; and is ever styled and directed. To
such an one our well beloved friend and creditor: which is a tide
profjer only to this case. For they say the king is debtor to no
man, but for propagation of his subjects. The seal set to the king's
charter is the king's image, imbossed or moulded in gold; and
though such charters be expedited'' of course, and as of right, yet
they are varied by discretion, according to the number and dignity
of the family. This charter the herald readeth aloud; and while it
is read, the father or Tirsan standeth up supported by two of his
sons, such as he chooseth. Then the herald mounteth the half-pace
and delivereth the charter into his hand: and with that there is an
acclamation by all that are present in their language, which is thus
much: Happy are the people of Bensalem.

Then the herald taketh into his hand from the other child the
cluster of grapes, which is of gold, both the stalk and the grapes.
But the grapes are daintily enamelled; and if the males of the fam-
ily be the greater number, the grapes are enamelled purple, with a
little sun set on the top; if the females, then they are enamelled
into a greenish yellow, with a crescent on the top. The grapes are
in number as many as there are descendants of the family. This
golden cluster the herald delivereth also to the Tirsan; who pres-
ently delivereth it over to that son that he had formerly chosen to
be in house with him: who beareth it before his father as an ensign
of honour when he goeth in public, ever after; and is thereupon
called the Son of the Vine.

After the ceremony endeth the father or Tirsan retireth; and
" Watered. " Issued.

l66 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

after some time cometh forth again to dinner, where he sitteth alone
under the state, as before; and none of his descendants sit with
him, of what degree or dignity soever, except he hap to be of Salo-
mon's House. He is served only by his own children, such as are
male; who perform unto him all service of the table upon the knee;
and the women only stand about him, leaning against the wall. The
room below the half-pace hath tables on the sides for the guests that
are bidden; who are served with great and comely order; and
towards the end of dinner (which in the greatest feasts with them
lasteth never above an hour and an half) there is an hymn sung, va-
ried according to the invention of him that composeth it (for they
have excellent posy) but the subject of it is (always) the praises of
Adam and Noah and Abraham; whereof the former two peopled
the world, and the last was the Father of the Faithful: concluding
ever with a thanksgiving for the nativity of our Saviour, in whose
birth the births of all are only blessed.

Dinner being done, the Tirsan retireth again; and having with-
drawn himself alone into a place, where he makes some private
prayers, he cometh forth the third time, to give the blessing with all
his descendants, who stand about him as at the first. Then he call-
eth them forth by one and by one, by name, as he pleaseth, though
seldom the order of age be inverted. The person that is called (the
table being before removed) kneeleth down before the chair, and
the father layeth his hand upon his head, or her head, and giveth the
blessing in these words: Son of Bensalem, (or daughter of Bensa-
lem,) thy father saith it: the man by whom thou hast breath and
life speaketh the word: the blessing of the everlasting Father, the
Prince of Peace, and the Holy Dove, be upon thee, and make the
days of thy pilgrimage good and many. This he saith to every
of them; and that done, if there be any of his sons of eminent merit
and virtue, (so they be not above two,) he calleth for them again;
and saith, laying his arm over their shoulders, they standing; Sons,
it is well ye are born, give God the praise, and persevere to the end.
And withall delivereth to either of them a jewel, made in the figure**
of an ear of wheat, which they ever after wear in the front of their
turban or hat. This done, they fall to music and dances, and other

" Shane.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 1 67

recreations, after their manner, for the rest of the day. This is the
full order of that feast.

By that time six or seven days were spent, I was fallen into
straight acquaintance with a merchant of that city, whose name was
Joabin. He was a Jew and circumcised: for they have some few
stirps" of Jews yet remaining among them, whom they leave to
their own religion. Which they may the better do, because they are
of a far differing disposition from the Jews in other parts. For
whereas they hate the name of Christ; and have a secret inbred
rancour against the people among whom they live: these (contrari-
wise) give unto our Saviour many high attributes, and love the
nation of Bensalem extremely. Surely this man of whom I speak
would ever acknowledge that Christ was born of a virgin and that
he was more than a man; and he would tell how God made him
ruler of the seraphims which guard his throne; and they call him
also the Mill{en Way, and the Eliah of the Messiah; and many other
high names; which though they be inferior to his divine majesty,
yet they are far from the language of other Jews.

And for the country of Bensalem, this man would make no end
of commending it; being desirous, by tradition among the Jews
there, to have it believed that the people thereof were of the genera-
tions of Abraham, by another son, whom they call Nachoran; and
that Moses by a secret Cabala ordained the Laws of Bensalem
which they now use; and that when the Messiah should come, and
sit in his throne at Hierusalem, the king of Bensalem should sit at
his feet, whereas other kings should keep a great distance. But yet
setting aside these Jewish dreams, the man was a wise man, and
learned, and of great policy, and excellently seen in the laws and
customs of that nation.

Amongst other discourses, one day I told him I was much affected
with the relation I had, from some of the company, of their custom,
in holding the Feast of the Family; for that (methought) I had
never heard of a solemnity wherein nature did so much preside.
And because propagation of families proceedeth from the nuptial
copulation, I desired to know of him what laws and customs they
had concerning marriage; and whether they kept marriage well

" Families, stocks.

1 68 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

and whether they were tied to one wife; for that where population
is so much affected," and such as with them it seemed to be, there
is commonly permission of plurality of wives.

To this he said, "You have reason for to commend that excellent
institution of the Feast of the Family. And indeed we have ex-
perience that those families that are partakers of the blessing of that
feast do flourish and prosper ever after in an extraordinary manner.
But hear me now, and 1 will tell you what I know. You shall under-
stand that there is not under the heavens so chaste a nation as this
of Bensalem; nor so free from all pollution or foulness. It is the
virgin of the world. I remember I have read in one of your Euro-
pean books, of an holy hermit amongst you that desired to see the
Spirit of Fornication; and there appeared to him a litde foul ugly
iEthiop. But if he had desired to see the Spirit of Chastity of Ben-
salem, it would have appeared to him in the likeness of a fair beauti-
ful Cherubin. For there is nothing amongst mortal men more fair
and admirable, than the chaste minds of this people. Know there-
fore, that with them there are no stews, no dissolute houses, no
courtesans, nor anything of that kind. Nay they wonder (with de-
testation) at you in Europe, which permit such things. They say
ye have put marriage out of office: for marriage is ordained a rem-
edy for unlawful concupiscence; and natural concupiscence seemeth
as a spur to marriage. But when men have at hand a remedy more
agreeable to their corrupt will, marriage is almost cxpulsed. And
therefore there are with you seen infinite men that marry not, but
chuse rather a libertine and impure single life, than to be yoked
in marriage; and many that do marry, marry late, when the prime
and strength of their years is past. And when they do marry, what
is marriage to them but a very bargain; wherein is sought alliance,
or portion, or reputation, with some desire (almost indifferent) of
issue; and not the faithful nuptial union of man and wife, that was
first instituted. Neither is it possible that those that have cast away
so basely so much of their strength, should greatly esteem children,
(being of the same matter,) as chaste men do. So likewise during
marriage, is the case much amended, as it ought to be if those things
were tolerated only for necessity? No, but they remain still as a

" Desired.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 1 69

very affront to marriage. The haunting of those dissolute places, or
resort to courtesans, are no more punished in married men than in
bachelors. And the depraved custom of change, and the delight in
meretricious embracements, (where sin is turned into art,) maketh
marriage a dull thing, and a kind of imposition or tax. They hear
you defend these things, as done to avoid greater evils; as advou-
tries," deflowering of virgins, unnatural lust, and the like. But
they say this is a preposterous wisdom; and they call it Lot's offer,
who to save his guests from abusing, offered his daughters: nay
they say farther that there is litde gained in this; for that the same
vices and apf)etites do still remain and abound; unlawful lust being
like a furnace, that if you stop the flames altogether, it will quench;
but if you give it any vent, it will rage. As for masculine love, they
have no touch of it; and yet there are not so faithful and inviolate
friendships in the world again as are there; and to speak generally,
(as I said before,) I have not read of any such chastity, in any
people as theirs. And their usual saying is. That whosoever is un-
chaste cannot reverence himself; and they say. That the reverence
of a man's self, is, next religion, the chief est bridle of all vices."

And when he had said this, the good Jew paused a litde; where-
upon I, far more willing to hear him speak on than to speak myself,
yet thinking it decent that upon his pause of speech I should not be
altogether silent, said only this; "That I would say to him, as the
widow of Sarepta said to Elias; that he was come to bring to mem-
ory our sins; and that I confess the righteousness of Bensalem was
greater than the righteousness of Europe." At which sf)eech he
bowed his head, and went on in this manner:

"They have also many wise and excellent laws touching marriage.
They allow no polygamy. They have ordained that none do inter-
marry or contract, until a month be past from their first interview.
Marriage without consent of parents they do not make void, but
they mulct" it in the inheritors: for the children of such marriages
are not admitted to inherit above a third part of their parents' in-
heritance. I have read in a book of one of your men," of a Feigned
Commonwealth, where the married couple are permitted, before
they contract, to see one another naked. This they dislike; for they
^ Adulteries. ^ Penalize. " More's Utopia.

I/O A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

think it a scorn to give a refusal after so familiar knowledge: but
because of many hidden defects in men and women's bodies, they
have a more civil way; for they have near every town a couple of
pools, (which they call Adam and Eve's pools,) where it is per-
mitted to one of the friends of the men, and another of the friends
of the woman, to see them severally bathe naked."

And as we were thus in conference, there came one that seemed
to be a messenger, in a rich huke," that spake with the Jew: where
upon he turned to me and said; "You will pardon me, for I am
commanded away in haste." The next morning he came to me
again, joyful as it seemed, and said; "There is word come to the
Governor of the city, that one of the Fathers of Salomon's House
will be here this day seven-night: we have seen none of them this
dozen years. His coming is in state; but the cause of his coming is
secret. I will provide you and your fellows of a good standing to
see his entry." I thanked him, and told him, I was most glad of
the news.

The day being come, he made his entry. He was a man of middle
stature and age, comely of person, and had an aspect as if he pitied
men. He was clothed in a robe of fine black cloth, with wide sleeves
and a cape. His under garment was of excellent white linen down
to the foot, girt with a girdle of the same; and a sindon or tippet of
the same about his neck. He had gloves, that were curious,** and set
with stone; and shoes of peach-coloured velvet. His neck was bare
to the shoulders. His hat was like a helmet, or Spanish montera;"
and his locks curled below it decendy: they were of colour brown.
His beard was cut round, and of the same colour with his hair,
somewhat lighter. He was carried in a rich chariot, without wheels,
litter-wise; with two horses at either end, richly trapped in blue
velvet embroidered; and two footmen on each side in the like at-
tire. The chariot was all of cedar, gilt, and adorned with crystal;
save that the fore-end had panels of sapphires, set in borders of
gold; and the hinder-end the like of emeralds of the Peru colour.
There was also a sun of gold, radiant, upon the top, in the midst;
and on the top before, a small cherub of gold, with wings dis-

" A cape with a hood. •* Of elaborate design. " A cap
with a round crown and flaps.

THE NEW ATLANTIS I7I

played." The chariot was covered with cloth of gold tissued upon
blue. He had before him fifty attendants, young men all, in white
satin loose coats to the mid leg; and stockings of white silk; and
shoes of blue velvet; and hats of blue velvet; with fine plumes of
diverse colours, set round like hat-bands. Next before the chariot,
went two men, bare-headed, in linen garments down the foot,
girt, and shoes of blue velvet; who carried, the one a crosier, the
other a pastoral staff like a sheep-hook; neither of them of metal,
but the crosier of balm-wood,'^ the pastoral staff of cedar. Horse-
men he had none, neither before nor behind his chariot: as it
seemeth, to avoid all tumult and trouble. Behind his chariot went
all the officers and principals of the companies of the city. He sat
alone, upon cushions of a kind of excellent plush, blue; and under
his foot curious carf)ets of silk of diverse colours, like the Persian,
but far finer. He held up his bare hand as he went, as blessing
the people, but in silence. The street was wonderfully well kept:
so that there was never any army had their men stand in better
battle-array than the people stood. The windows likewise were
not crowded, but everyone stood in them as if they had been
placed.

When the shew was past, the Jew said to me; "I shall not be able
to attend you as I would, in regard of some charge the city hath
laid upon me, for the entertaining of this great person." Three days
after the Jew came to me again, and said; "Ye are happy men; for
the Father of Salomon's House taketh knowledge of your being
here, and commanded me to tell you that he will admit all your
company to his presence, and have private conference with one of
you, that ye shall choose: and for this hath appointed the next day
after to-morrow. And because he meaneth to give you his blessing,
he hath appointed it in the forenoon.

We came at our day and hour, and I was chosen by my fellows
for the private access. We found him in a fair chamber, richly
hanged, and carpeted under foot, without any degrees " to the state."
He was set upon a low Throne richly adorned, and a rich cloth of
state " over his head, of blue satin embroidered. He was alone, save
that he had two pages of honour, on either hand one, finely attired
"Spread. "Balsam. ** Steps. *' Throne. "Canopy.

172 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

in white. His undergarments were the like that we saw him wear in
the chariot; but instead of his gown, he had on him a mantle with
a cape, of the same fine black, fastened about him. When we came
in, as we were taught, we bowed low at our first entrance; and
when we were come near his chair, he stood up, holding forth his
hand ungloved, and in posture of blessing; and we every one of us
stooped down, and kissed the hem of his tippet. That done, the rest
departed, and I remained. Then he warned " the pages forth of the
room, and caused me to sit down beside him, and spake to me thus
in the Spanish tongue.

"God bless thee, my son; I will give thee the greatest jewel I have.
For I will impart unto thee, for the love of God and men, a relation
of the true state of Salomon's House. Son, to make you know the
true state of Salomon's House, I will keep this order. First, I will
set forth unto you the end of our foundation. Secondly, the prepara-
tions and instruments we have for our works. Thirdly, the several
employments and functions whereto our fellows are assigned. And
fourthly, the ordinances and rites which we observe.

"The end of our foundation is the knowledge of causes, and secret
motions of things; and the enlarging of the bounds of human
empire, to the effecting of all things possible.

"The Preparations and Instruments are these. We have large and
deep caves of several depths: the deepest are sunk six hundred fath-
om: and some of them are digged and made under great hills and
mountains: so that if you reckon together the depth of the hill and
the depth of the cave, they are (some of them) above three miles
deep. For we find, that the depth of a hill, and the depth of a cave
from the flat, is the same thing; both remote alike, from the sun
and heaven's beams, and from the open air. These caves we call the
Lower Region; and we use them for all coagulations, indurations,
refrigerations, and conservations" of bodies. We use them likewise
for the imitation of natural mines; and the producing also of new
artificial metals, by compositions and materials which we use, and
lay there for many years. We use them also sometimes, (which may
seem strange,) for curing of some diseases, and for prolongation of
life in some hermits that choose to live there, well accommodated

" Ordered. ^ Experiments in ttiickening, hardening, freezing, and preserving.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 1 73

of all things necessary, and indeed live very long; by whom also we
learn many things.

"We have burials in several earths, where we put diverse cements,
as the Chineses do their porcellain. But we have them in greater
variety, and some of them more fine. We have also great variety
of composts," and soils, for the making of the earth fruitful.

"We have high towers; the highest about half a mile in height;
and some of them likewise set upon high mountains; so that the
vantage of the hill with the tower is in the highest of them three
miles at least. And these places we call the Upper Region; account-
ing the air between the high places and the low, as a Middle Region.
We use these towers, according to their several heights, and situa-
tions, for insolation,™ refrigeration, conservation; and for the view of
divers meteors; as winds, rain, snow, hail; and some of the fiery
meteors also. And upon them, in some places, are dwellings of her-
mits, whom we visit sometimes, and instruct what to observe.

"We have great lakes, both salt, and fresh; whereof we have use
for the fish and fowl. We use them also for burials of some natural
bodies: for we find a difference in things buried in earth or in air
below the earth, and things buried in water. We have also pools,
of which some do strain fresh water out of salt; and others by art do
turn fresh water into salt. We have also some rocks in the midst of
the sea, and some bays upon the shore for some works, wherein is
required the air and vapor of the sea. We have likewise violent
streams and cataracts, which serve us for many motions:" and like-
wise engines " for multiplying and enforcing of winds, to set also on
going diverse motions.

"We have also a number of artificial wells and fountains, made
in imitation of the natural sources and baths; as tincted upon'^
vitriol, sulphur, steel, brass, lead, nitre, and other minerals. And
again we have little wells for infusions of many things, where the
waters take the virtue quicker and better, than in vessels or basins.
And amongst them we have a water which we call Water of Para-
dise, being, by that we do to it made very sovereign for health, and
prolongation of life.

'* Manures. '" Exposing to the action of the Min. " Machines.
" Tinctured with.

174 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

"We have also great and spacious houses where we imitate and
demonstrate meteors; as snow, hail, rain, some artificial rains of
bodies and not of water, thunders, lightnings; also generations of
bodies in air; as frogs, flies, and divers others.

"We have also certain chambers, which we call Chambers of
Health, where we qualify the air as we think good and proper for
the cure of divers diseases, and preservation of health.

"We have also fair and large baths, of several mixtures, for the
cure of diseases, and the restoring of man's body from arefaction: ''
and others for the confirming of it in strength of sinewes, vital parts,
and the very juice and substance of the body.

"We have also large and various orchards and gardens; wherein
we do not so much respect beauty, as variety of ground and soil,
proper for divers trees and herbs: and some very spacious, where
trees and berries are set whereof we make divers kinds of drinks,
besides the vineyards. In these we practise likewise all conclusions'*
of grafting, and inoculating" as well of wild-trees as fruit-trees,
which produceth many effects. And we make (by art) in the same
orchards and gardens, trees and flowers to come earlier or later than
their seasons; and to come up and bear more speedily than by their
natural course they do. We make them also by art greater much
than their nature; and their fruit greater and sweeter and of differ-
ing taste, smell, colour, and figure, from their nature. And many of
them we so order, as they become of medicinal use.

"We have also means to make divers plants rise by mixtures of
earths without seeds; and likewise to make divers new plants, dif-
fering from the vulgar; and to make one tree or plant turn into
another.

"We have also parks and enclosures of all sorts of beasts and
birds which we use not only for view or rareness, but likewise for
dissections and trials; that thereby we may take light what may be
wrought upon the body of man. Wherein we find many strange
effects; as continuing life in them, though divers parts, which you
account vital, be perished and taken forth; resuscitating of some that
seem dead in appearance; and the like. We try also all poisons
and other medicines upon them, as well of chirurgery,'^ as physic.
" Dr>ing up. '* Experiments. '^ Budding. '• Surgery.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 175

By art likewise, we make them greater or taller than their kind " is;
and contrariwise dwarf them, and stay their growth: we make them
more fruitful and bearing than their kind is; and contrariwise bar-
ren and not generative. Also we make them differ in colour, shape,
activity, many ways. We find means to make commixtures and
copulations of different kinds; which have produced many new
kinds, and them not barren, as the general opinion is. We make
a number of kinds of serpents, worms, flies, fishes, of putrefaction;
whereof some are advanced (in effect) to be perfect creatures, like
beasts or birds; and have sexes, and do propagate. Neither do we
this by chance, but we know beforehand, of what matter and com-
mixture what kind of those creatures will arise.

"We have also particular pwols, where we make trials upon fishes,
as we have said before of beasts and birds.

"We have also places for breed and generation of those kinds of
worms and flies which are of special use; such as are with you your
silk-worms and bees.

"I will not hold you long with recounting of our brew-houses,
bake-houses, and kitchens, where are made divers drinks, breads,
and meats, rare and of special efTects. Wines we have of grapes;
and drinks of other juice of fruits, of grains, and of roots; and of
mixtures with honey, sugar, manna, and fruits dried, and decocted; "
Also of the tears or woundings of trees; and of the pulp of canes.
And these drinks are of several ages, some to the age or last of forty
years. We have drinks also brewed with several herbs, and roots,
and spices; yea with several fleshes, and white-meats; whereof some
of the drinks are such, as they are in effect meat and drink both:
so that divers, especially in age, do desire to live with them, with
little or no meat or bread. And above all, we strive to have drink
of extreme thin parts, to insinuate " into the body, and yet without
all biting, sharpness, or fretting; insomuch as some of them put upon
the back of your hand will, with a little stay,*" pass through to the
palm, and yet taste mild to the mouth. We have also waters which
we ripen in that fashion, as they become nourishing; so that they
are indeed excellent drink; and many will use no other. Breads
we have of several grains, roots, and kernels; yea and some of flesh
'' Species. " Boiled down. " Creep or wind. •" Delay.

176 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

and fish dried; with divers kinds of leavenings and seasonings: so
that some do extremely move appetites; some do nourish so, as
divers do live of them, without any other meat; who live very long.
So for meats, we have some of them so beaten and made tender and
mortified," yet without all corrupting, as a weak heat of the stom-
ach will turn them into good chylus; " as well as a strong heat would
meat otherwise prepared. We have some meats also and breads
and drinks, which taken by men enable them to fast long after; and
some other, that used make the very flesh of men's bodies sensibly"
more hard and tough and their strength far greater than otherwise it
would be.

"We have dispensatories, or shops of medicines. Wherein you
may easily think, if we have such variety of plants and living crea-
tures more than you have in Eurof)e, (for we know what you have,)
the simples, drugs, and ingredients of medicines, must likewise be
in so much the greater variety. We have them likewise of divers
ages, and long fermentations. And for their preparations, we have
not only all manner of exquisite distillations and separations, and
especially by gentle heats and percolations through divers strainers,
yea and substances; but also exact forms" of composition, whereby
they incorporate almost, as they were natural simples.

"We have also divers mechanical arts, which you have not; and
stuffs made by them; as papers, linen, silks, tissues; dainty works of
feathers of wonderful lustre; excellent dies, and many others; and
shops likewise, as well for such as are not brought into vulgar use
amongst us as for those that are. For you must know that of the
things before recited, many of them are grown into use throughout
the kingdom; but yet, if they did flow from our invention, we have
of them also for patterns and principals."

"We have also furnaces of great diversities, and that keep great
diversity of heats; fierce and quick; strong and constant; soft and
mild; blown, quiet; dry, moist; and the like. But above all, we
have heats, in imitation of the Sun's and heavenly bodies' heats, that
pass divers inequalities, and (as it were) orbs," progresses, and
returns, whereby we produce admirable effects. Besides, we have

" Made tender. *2 Chyle. " Perceptibly to the touch. " Formulas.
« Models. " Orbits.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 1 77

heats of dungs; and of bellies and maws of living creatures, and of
their bloods and bodies; and of hays and herbs laid up moist; of
lime unquenched; and such like. Instruments also which generate
heat only by motion. And farther, places for strong insolations; "
and again, places under the earth, which by nature, or art, yield
heat. These divers heats we use, as the nature of the operation,
which we intend, requireth.

"We have also perspective-houses," where we make demonstra-
tions of all lights and radiations; and of all colours: and out of
things uncoloured and transparent, we can represent unto you all
several colours; not in rain-bows, (as it is in gems, and prisms,) but
of themselves single. We represent also all multiplications*' of light,
which we carry to great distance, and make so sharp as to discern
small pfjints and lines. Also all colourations of light; all delusions
and deceits of the sight, in figures, magnitudes, motions, colours:
all demonstrations of shadows. We find also divers means, yet un-
known to you, of producing of light originally'" from divers bodies.
We procure means of seeing objects afar off; as in the heaven and
remote places; and represent things near as afar off; and things
afar off as near; making feigned distances. We have also helps for
the sight, far above spectacles and glasses in use. We have also
glasses and means to see small and minute bodies perfecdy and
distinctly; as the shapes and colours of small flies and worms, grains
and flaws in gems, which cannot otherwise be seen, observations in
urine and blood not otherwise to be seen. We make artificial rain-
bows, halo's, and circles about light. We represent also all manner
of reflexions, refractions, and multiplications" of visual beams of
objects.

"We have also precious stones of all kinds, many of them of great
beauty, and to you unknown; crystals likewise; and glasses of divers
kinds: and amongst them some of metals vitrificated," and other
materials besides those of which you make glass. Also a number
of fossils, and imperfect minerals, which you have not. Likewise
loadstones of prodigious virtue; and other rare stones, both natural
and artificial.

•' Exposure to the sun. " Places for optical experiments. "Intensifications.
"" Spontaneously. " Turned into glass.

178 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

"We have also sound-houses, where we practise and demonstrate
all sounds, and their generation. We have harmonies which you
have not, of quarter-sounds, and lesser slides'^ of sounds. Divers in-
struments of music likewise to you unknown, some sweeter than
any you have, together with bells and rings that are dainty and
sweet. We represent small sounds as great and deep; likewise great
sounds extenuate" and sharp; we make divers trembUngs and war-
blings of sounds, which in their original °* are entire. We represent
and imitate all articulate sounds and letters, and the voices and notes
of beasts and birds. We have certain helps which set to the ear do
further the hearing greatly. We have also divers strange and arti-
ficial echoes, reflecting the voice many times, and as it were tossing
it: and some that give back the voice louder than it came, some
shriller, and some deeper; yea, some rendering the voice differing
in the letters or articulate sound from that they receive. We have
also means to convey sounds in trunks and pipes, in strange lines
and distances.

"We have also perfume-houses; wherewith we join also practices of
taste. We multiply smells, which may seem strange. We imitate
smells, making all smells to breathe out of other mixtures than
those that give them. We make divers imitations of taste likewise,
so that they will deceive any man's taste. And in this house we con-
tain'" also a confiture-house; where we make all sweet-meats, dry
and moist; and divers pleasant wines, milks, broths, and sallets; in
far greater variety than you have.

"We have also engine-houses, where are prepared engines and in-
struments for all sorts of motions. There we imitate and practise to
make swifter motions than any you have, either out of your muskets
or any engine that you have: and to make them and multiply them
more easily, and with small force, by wheels and other means: and
to make them stronger and more violent than yours are; exceeding
your greatest cannons and basilisks.'* We represent also ordnance
and instruments of war, and engines of all kinds: and likewise new
mixtures and compositions of gun-powder, wild-fires burning in
water, and unquenchable. Also fire-works of all variety both for
pleasure and use. We imitate also flights of birds; we have some
'^ Fine shades. " Thin. ** Origin. '^ Include. •• A kind of cannon.

THE NEW ATLANTIS 1 79

degrees of flying in the air. We have ships and boats for going
under water, and brooking" of seas; also swimming-girdles and
supporters. We have divers curious clocks, and other like motions
of return: and some perpetual motions. We imitate also motions of
living creatures, by images, of men, beasts, birds, fishes, and ser-
pents. We have also a great number of other various motions,
strange for equality, fineness, and subtilty.

"We have also a mathematical house, where are represented all
instruments, as well of geometry as astronomy, exquisitely made.

"We have also houses of deceits of the senses; where we repre-
sent all manner of feats of juggling, false apparitions, impostures,
and illusions; and their fallacies.'* And surely you will easily be-
lieve that we that have so many things truly natural which induce
admiration,'* could in a world of particulars deceive the senses, if
we would disguise those things and labour to make them seem more
miraculous. But we do hate all impostures, and lies; insomuch as
we have severely forbidden it to all our fellows, under pain of igno-
miny and fines, that they do not shew any natural work or thing,
adorned or swelling; but only pure as it is, and without all affecta-
tion of strangeness.

"These are (my son) the riches of Salomon's House.

"For the several employments and offices of our fellows; we have
twelve that sail into foreign countries, under the names of other
nations, (for our own we conceal); who bring us the books, and
abstracts, and patterns of experiments of all other parts. These we
call Merchants of Light.

"We have three that collect the experiments which are in all
books. These we call Depredators.'""

"We have three that collect the experiments of all mechanical
arts; and also of liberal sciences; and also of practices which are
not brought into arts. These we call Mystery-men.'°'

"We have three that try new experiments, such as themselves
think good. These we call Pioners or Miners.

"We have three that draw the experiments of the former four into

" Withstanding. " Exposures. •* Wonder. ""• Pillagers.
'»' Craftsmen.

l80 A FABLE OF FRANCIS BACON

titles and tables, to give the better light for the drawing of observa-
tions and axioms out of them. These we call Compilers.

"We have three that bend themselves, looking into the experi-
ments of their fellows, and cast about how to draw out of them
things of use and practise for man's life, and knowledge, as well for
works as for plain demonstration of causes, means of natural divina-
tions, and the easy and clear discovery of the virtues and parts of
bodies. These we call Dowry-men '" or Benefactors.

"Then after divers meetings and consults of our whole number,
to consider of the former labours and collections, we have three that
take care, out of them, to direct new experiments, of a higher light,
more penetrating into nature than the former. These we call Lamps.

"We have three others that do execute the experiments so directed,
and report them. These we call Inoculators.

"Lastly, we have three that raise the former discoveries by experi-
ments into greater observations, axioms, and aphorisms. These we
call Interpreters of Nature.

"We have also, as you must think, novices and apprentices, that
the succession of the former employed men do not fail; besides, a
great number of servants and attendants, men and women. And
this we do also: we have consultations, which of the inventions and
experiences which we have discovered shall be published, and which
not: and take all an oath of secrecy, for the concealing of those which
we think fit to keep secret : though some of those we do reveal some-
times to the state and some not.

"For our ordinances and rites: we have two very long and fair
galleries: in one of these we place patterns and samples of all man-
ner of the more rare and excellent inventions: in the other we place
the statuas of all principal inventors. There we have the statua of
your Columbus, that discovered the West Indies: also the inventor
of ships: your monk that was the inventor of ordnance and of
gunpowder: the inventor of music: the inventor of letters: the inven-
tor of printing: the inventor of observations of astronomy: the in-
ventor of works in metal: the inventor of glass: the inventor of silk
of the worm: the inventor of wine: the inventor of corn and bread:

"" Endowment men.

THE NEW ATLANTIS l8l

the inventor of sugars: and all these, by more certain tradition than
you have. Then have we divers inventors of our own, of excellent
works; which since you have not seen, it were too long to make de-
scriptions of them; and besides, in the right understanding of those
descriptions you might easily err. For upon every invention of
value, we erect a statua to the inventor, and give him a liberal and
honourable reward. These statuas are some of brass; some of mar-
ble and touch-stone; '"' some of cedar and other special woods gilt
and adorned; some of iron; some of silver; some of gold.

"We have certain hymns and services, which we say daily, of
Lord and thanks to God for his marvellous works: and forms of
prayers, imploring his aid and blessing for the illumination of our
labours, and the turning of them into good and holy uses.

"Lastly, we have circuits or visits of divers principal cities of the
kingdom; where, as it cometh to pass, we do publish such new
profitable inventions as we think good. And we do also declare
natural divinations of diseases, plagues, swarms of hurtful crea-
tures, scarcity, tempests, earthquakes, great inundations, comets,
temperature of the year, and divers other things; and we give coun-
sel thereupon, what the people shall do for the prevention and rem-
edy of them."

And when he had said this, he stood up; and I, as I had been
taught, kneeled down, and he laid his right hand upon my head,
and said; "God bless thee, my son; and God bless this relation,
which I have made. I give thee leave to publish it for the good of
other nations; for we here are in God's bosom, a land unknown."
And so he left me; having assigned a value of about two thousand
ducats, for a bounty to me and my fellows. For they give great
largesses where they come upon all occasions.

[The rest was not perfected.]

"* A variety of jasper.

AREOPAGITICA

A SPEECH

PO« THE UBERTY OF UNLICENSED PRINTING TO THE
PARLIAMENT OF ENGLAND

BY
JOHN MILTON

TiXivdtpor i'intiyo, it rit 0i\ti riXci
\/rTfa6i' Ti fioOXtvfi* th iiiaov tfiptiw, txuv.

£t7^, rl Toinuv laiv iiraiTtpoi' r6Xei ;

Euripkl. Hicetid.

Thij is true IJherly when free horn men
Having to advise the piihlic may speak, free.
Which he who can, and will, deserv's high praise.
Who neither can nor will, may hold his peace;
What can he /lister in a Slate than this?

Euripid. Hicetid.

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

The name of Milton's speech on the freedom of the press was imitated
from that of the "Logos Areopagiticos" of the Athenian orator Isocrates
(436-338 B.C.), which was also a speech meant to be read, not heard.
The oration of Isocrates aimed at re-estabUshing the old democracy of
Athens by restoring the Court of the Areopagus, whence the work de-
rived its title.

During the ascendency of Laud in the Church of England, his instru-
ment, the Court of the Star-Chambcr, had reenacted, more oppressively
than ever, some of the restrictions imposed during the reign of Elizabeth
on the printing of books. These restrictions disappeared with the
abolition of the Star-Chamber in 1641, but very soon the Presbyterian
majority in the Long Parliament began to pass orders framed with a
view to enable them to suppress publications voicing the political and
religious views of their opponents. Finally the Order of June, 1643,
reproduced here, roused Milton to protest, and he issued his famous
plea for unlicensed printing in the following year. As will be seen from
the speech itself, he did his best to conciliate the Parliament by making
cordial acknowledgment of its services to the cause of liberty, and he
sought to persuade them to reverse their action by pointing out its in-
consistency with these services. But it does not appear that it produced
any immediate effect. While the Independents under Cromwell had the
upper hand, the licensing laws were, indeed, very slackly enforced; but
with the Restoration came the reenactment of most of the provisions of
the Star-Chamber Decree. After being renewed several times for terms
of years, they finally were allowed to lapse in 1694, and later attempts
to renew them were unsuccessful.

But the importance of Milton's pamphlet is not to be measured by its
effect on the political situation which was its immediate occasion. In
his enthusiasm for liberty, the master passion of his life, he rose far above
the politics of the hour; and the "Areopagitica" holds its supremacy
among his prose writings by virtue of its apf>eal to fundamental prin-
ciples, and its triumphant assertion of the faith that all that truth needs
to assure its victory over error is a fair field and no favor.

ORDER

OF THE LONG PARLIAMENT
for the regulating of printing, i4 junc, 1643

being the occasion of
Milton's akeopacitica

Whereas divers good Orders have bin lately made by both Houses
of Parliament, for suppressing the great late abuses and frequent
disorders in Printing many, false forged, scandalous, seditious, li-
bellous, and unlicensed Papers, Pamphlets, and Books to the great
defamation of Religion and government. Which orders (notwith-
standing the diligence of the Company of Stationers, to put them
in full execution) have taken little or no effect: By reason the bill
in preparation, for redresse of the said disorders, hath hitherto bin
retarded through the present distractions, and very many, aswell
Stationers and Printers, as others of sundry other professions not
free of the Stationers Company, have taken upon them to set up
sundry private Printing Presses in corners, and to print, vend, pub-
lish and disperse Books, pamphlets and papers, in such multitudes,
that no industry could be sufficient to discover or bring to pun-
ishment, all the severall abounding delinquents; And by reason
that divers of the Stationers Company and others being Delinquents
(contrary to former orders and the constant custome used among the
said Company) have taken liberty to Print, Vend, and publish, the
most profitable vendible Copies of Books, belonging to the Com-
pany and other Stationers, especially of such Agents as are imployed
in putting the said Orders in Execution, and that by way of revenge
for giveing information against them to the Houses for their De-
linquences in Printing, to the great prejudice of the said Company
of Stationers and Agents, and to their discouragement in this publik
service.

It is therefore Ordered by the Lords and Commons in Parliament,
That no Order or Declaration of both, or either House of Parlia-

i8s

1 86 A SPEECH

ment shall be printed by any, but by order of one or both the said
Houses: Nor other Book, Pamphlet, paper, nor part of any such
Book, Pamphlet, or paper, shall from henceforth be printed, bound,
stitched or put to sale by any person or persons whatsoever, unlesse
the same be first approved of and licensed under the hands of such
person or persons as both, or either of the said Houses shall appoint
for the licensing of the same, and entred in the Register Book of
the Company of Stationers, according to Ancient custom, and the
Printer thereof to put his name thereto. And that no person or per-
sons shall hereafter print, or cause to be reprinted any Book or
Books, or part of Book, or Books heretofore allowed of and granted
to the said Company of Stationers for their relief and maintenance
of their poore, without the licence or consent of the Master, War-
dens and Assistants of the said Company; Nor any Book or Books
lawfully licenced and entred in the Register of the said Company for
any particular member thereof, without the licence and consent of
the owner or owners thereof. Nor yet import any such Book or
Books, or part of Book or Books formerly Printed here, from beyond
the Seas, upon paine of forfeiting the same to the Owner, or Owners
of the Copies of the said Books, and such further punishment as
shall be thought fit.

And the Master and Wardens of the said Company, the Gentle-
man Usher of the House of Peers, the Sergeant of the Commons
House and their deputies, together with the persons formerly ap-
pointed by the Committee of the House of Commons for Examina-
tions, are hereby Authorized and required, from time to time, to
make diligent search in all places, where they shall think meete, for
all unlicensed Printing Presses, and all Presses any way imployed in
the printing of scandalous or unlicensed Papers, Pamphlets, Books,
or any Copies of Books belonging to the said Company, or any
member thereof, without their approbation and consents, and to
seize and carry away such Printing Presses Letters, together with
the Nut, Spindle, and other materialls of every such irregular Printer,
which they find so misimployed, unto the Common Hall of the
said Company, there to be defaced and made unserviceable accord-
ing to Ancient Custom; And likewise to make diligent search in all
suspected Printing-houses, Ware-houses, Shops and other places for

ORDER OF THE LONG PARLIAMENT 1 87

such scandalous and unlicensed Books, paf)ers, Pamphlets, and all
other Books, not entred, nor signed with the Printers name as afore-
said, being printed, or reprinted by such as have no lawfull interest
in them, or any way contrary to this Order, and the same to seize
and carry away to the said common hall, there to remain till both or
either House of Parliament shall dispose thereof. And likewise to
apprehend all Authors, Printers, and other persons whatsoever im-
ployed in compiling, printing, stitching, binding, publishing and
dispersing of the said scandalous, unlicensed, and unwarrantable
paf)ers, books and pamphlets as aforesaid, and all those who shall
resist the said Parties in searching after them, and to bring them
afore either of the Houses or the Committee of Examinations, that
so they may receive such further punishments, as their Offences
shall demerit, and not to be released untill they have given satis-
faction to the Parties imployed in their apprehension for their paines
and charges, and given sufficient caution not to offend in like sort
for the future. And all Justices of the Peace, Captaines, Constables
and other officers, are hereby ordered and required to be aiding, and
assisting to the foresaid persons in the due execution of all, and
singular the premisses and in the apprehension of all Offenders
against the same. And in case of opposition to break open the
Doores and Locks.

And it further ordered, that this Order be forthwith Printed and
Published, to the end that notice may be taken thereof, and all Con-
temners of it left inexcusable.

AREOPAGITICA

A SPEECH

FOR THE LIBERTY OF UNLICENSED PRINTING

THEY who to States and Governors of the Commonwealth
direct their speech, High Court of Parhament, or wanting
such access in a private condition, write that which they
foresee may advance the pubHc good; I suppose them as at the
beginning of no mean endeavor, not a litde altered' and moved
inwardly in their minds: Some with doubt of what will be the
success,' others with fear of what will be the censure,' some with
hope, others with confidence of what they have to speak. And me
perhaps each of these dispositions, as the subject was whereon I en-
tered, may have at other times variously affected; and likely might
in these foremost expressions now also disclose which of them
swayed most, but that the very attempt of this address thus made,
and the thought of whom it hath recourse to, hath got the power
within me to a passion,* far more welcome than incidental' to a
preface. Which though I stay not to confess ere any ask, I shall be
blameless, if it be no other, than the joy and gratulation which it
brings to all who wish and promote their country's liberty; whereof
this whole discourse proposed will be a certain testimony, if not a
trophy. For this is not the liberty which we can hope, that no
grievance ever should arise in the commonwealth, that let no man
in this world exp)ect; but when complaints are freely heard, deeply
considered, and speedily reformed, then is the utmost bound of civil
liberty attained, that wise men look for. To which if I now manifest
by the very sound of this which I shall utter, that we are already
in good part arrived, and yet from such a steep disadvantage of
tyranny and superstition grounded into our principles as was beyond
the manhood of a Roman recovery,' it will be attributed first, as is

' Troubled. ' IssuR • Judgment. * Enthusiasm. ' Appropriate.

•/. e., after the decline of the empire.

189

190 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

most due, to the strong assistance o£ God our deliverer, next to your
faithful guidance and undaunted wisdom, Lords and Commons
of England. Neither is it in God's esteem the diminution of his
glory, when honorable things are spoken of good men and worthy
magistrates; which if I now first should begin to do, after so fair a
progress of your laudable deeds, and such a long obligement upon
the whole realm to your indefatigable virtues, I might be justly
reckoned among the tardiest, and the unwillingest of them that
praise ye. Nevertheless there being three principal things, without
which all praising is but courtship' and flattery; first, when that only
is praised which is solidly worth praise: next, when greatest likeli-
hoods are brought that such things are truly and really in those per-
sons to whom they are ascribed, the other, when he who praises, by
showing that such his actual persuasion is of whom he writes, can
demonstrate that he flatters not: the former two of these I have
heretofore endeavored, rescuing the employment from him who
went about to impair your merits with a trivial and malignant
Encomium^ the latter as belonging chiefly to mine own acquittal,
that whom I so extolled I did not flatter, hath been reserved oip-
portunely to this occasion. For he who freely magnifies what hath
been nobly done, and fears not to declare as freely what might be
done better, gives you the best covenant of his fidelity; and that
his loyalest affection and his hope waits on your proceedings. His
highest praising is not flattery, and his plainest advice is a kind of
praising; for though I should affirm and hold by argument, that it
would fare better with truth, with learning, and the commonwealth,
if one of your published orders which I should name, were called
in, yet at the same time it could not but much redound to the luster
of your mild and equal government, when as private persons are
hereby animated to think ye better pleased with public advice,
than other statists' have been delighted heretofore with public flat-
tery. And men will then see what difference there is between the
magnanimity of a triennial parliament, and that jealous haughti-
ness of prelates and cabin counselors that usurped of late, when as
they shall observe ye in the midst of your victories and successes

' Courciership. 'Bishop Hall had damned the Parliament with faint praise.

9 c»^.»,«»»

AREOPAGITICA I9I

more gently brooking written exceptions against a voted order, than
other courts, which had produced nothing worth memory but the
weak ostentation of weakh, would have endured the least signified
dislike at any sudden proclamation. If I should thus far presume
upon the meek demeanor of your civil and gentle greatness. Lords
and Commons, as what your published order hath directly said,
that to gainsay, I might defend myself with ease, if any should
accuse me of being new or insolent, did they but know how much
better I find you esteem it to imitate the old and elegant humanity
of Greece, than the barbaric pride of a Hunnish and Norwegian
stateliness. And out of those ages, to whose polite wisdom and
letters we owe that we are not yet Goths and Jutlandcrs, I could
name him'" who from his private house wrote that discourse to the
parliament of Athens, that f)ersuades them to change the form of
Democracy which was then established. Such honor was done in
those days to men who professed the study of wisdom and elo-
quence, not only in their own country, but in other lands, that cities
and seigniories heard them gladly, and with great respect, if they
had ought in public to admonish the state. Thus did Dion Prusteus
a stranger and a private orator counsel the Rhodians against a for-
mer edict: and I abound with other like examples, which to set
here would be superfluous. But if from the industry of a life wholly
dedicated to studious labors, and those natural endowments happily
not the worst for two and fifty degrees of northern latitude, so
much must be derogated," as to count me not equal to any of those
who had this privilege, I would obtain to be thought not so infe-
rior, as yourselves are superior to the most of them who received
their counsel: and how far you excel them, be assured. Lords and
Commons, there can no greater testimony appear, than when your
prudent spirit acknowledges and obeys the voice of reason from
what quarter soever it be heard speaking; and renders ye as willing
to repeal any act of your own setting forth, as any set forth by your
predecessors.

If ye be thus resolved, as it were injury to think ye were not, I
know not what should withhold me from presenting ye with a fit
instance wherein to show both that love of truth which ye emi-

'"Isocratcs. "Subtracted.

192 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

nently profess, and that uprightness of your judgment which is not
wont to be partial to yourselves; by judging over again that order
which ye have ordained to regulate printing. That no book^, pam-
phlet, or paper shall be hencejorth printed, unless the same be first
approved and licensed by such, or at least one of such as shall be
thereto appointed. For that part which preserves justly every man's
copy" to himself, or provides for the poor, I touch not, only wish
they be not made pretenses to abuse and persecute honest and pain-
ful men, who offend not in either of these particulars. But that
other clause of licensing books, which we thought had died with his
brother quadragesimal^ and matrimonial^ when the prelates ex-
pired, I shall now attend with such a homily, as shall lay before
you, first the inventors of it to be those whom you will be loath to
own; next what is to be thought in general of reading, what ever
sort the books be; and that this order avails nothing to the suppress-
ing of scandalous, seditious, and libelous books, which were mainly
intended to be suppressed. Last, that it will be primely to the dis-
couragement of all learning, and the stop of truth, not only by the
disexercising and blunting our abilities in what we know already,
but by hindering and cropping the discovery that might be yet
further made both in religious and civil wisdom.

I deny not, but that it is of greatest concernment in the church
and commonwealth, to have a vigilant eye how books demean
themselves as well as men; and thereafter to confine, imprison, and
do sharpest justice on them as malefactors: for books are not abso-
lutely dead things, but do contain a potency of life in them to be
as active as that soul was whose progeny they are; nay they do pre-
serve as in a vial the purest efficacy and extraction of that living
intellect that bred them. 1 know they are as lively, and as vigorously
productive, as those fabulous dragons teeth; and being sown up
and down, may chance to spring up armed men. And yet on the
other hand unless wariness be used, as good almost kill a man as
kill a good book; who kills a man kills a reasonable creature, God's
image; but he who destroys a good book, kills reason itself, kills
the image of God, as it were in the eye. Many a man lives a burden

>* Copyright. "Regulations of the Episcopal Church relating to Lent and

Marriage.

AREOPAGITICA 193

to the earth; but a good book is the precious life-blood of a master
spirit, imbalmed and treasured up on purpose to a life beyond life.
It is true, no age can restore a life, whereof perhaps there is no
great loss; and revolutions of ages do not oft recover the loss of a
rejected truth, for the want of which whole nations fare the worse.
We should be wary therefore what persecution we raise against the
living labors of public men, how we spill" that seasoned life of
man preserved and stored up in books; since we see a kind of homi-
cide may be thus committed, sometimes a martyrdom, and if it
extend to the whole impression, a kind of massacre, whereof the
execution ends not in the slaying of an elemental" life, but strikes
at that ethereal and fifth essence," the breath of reason itself, slays
an immortality rather than a life. But lest I should be condemned
of introducing license, while I oppose licensing, I refuse not the
pains to be so much historical, as will serve to show what has been
done by ancient and famous commonwealths, against this disorder,
till the very time that this project of licensing crept out of the In-
quisition, was caught up by our prelates, and hath caught some of
our presbyters.

In Athens where books and wits were ever busier than in any
other part of Greece, I find but only two sorts of writings which the
magistrate cared to take notice of; those either blasphemous and
atheistical, or libelous. Thus the books of Protagoras were by the
judges of Areopagus commanded to be burnt, and himself banished
the territory for a discourse begun with his confessing not to know
whether there tvere gods, or whether not: And against defaming, it
was decreed that none should be traduced by name, as was the
manner of Vetus Comaedia" whereby we may guess how they cen-
sured libeling: And this course was quick enough, as Cicero writes,
to quell both the desperate wits of other atheists, and the open way
of defaming, as the event showed. Of other sects and opinions
though tending to voluptuousness, and the denying of divine provi-
dence they took no heed. Therefore we do not read that either Epi-
curus, or that libertine school of Cyrene, or what the Cynic impu-
dence uttered, was ever questioned by the laws. Neither is it re-

•* Destroy. " Material. " Spiritual element. " The old Attic comedy, e. g.,
of Amtophanes.

194 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

corded that the writings of those old comedians were suppressed,
though the acting of them were forbidden; and that Plato com-
mended the reading of Aristophanes the loosest of them all, to his
royal scholar Dionysius, is commonly known, and may be excused,
if holy Chrysostome, as is reported, nighdy studied so much the
same author and had the art to cleanse a scurrilous vehemence into
the style of a rousing sermon. That other leading city of Greece,
Lacedcemon, considering that Lycurgus their law-giver was so ad-
dicted to elegant learning, as to have been the first that brought out
of Ionia the scattered works of Homer, and sent the poet Thales
from Crete to prepare and mollify the Spartan surliness with his
smooth songs and odes, the better to plant among them law and
civility, it is to be wondered how museless" and unboogish they
were, minding naught but the feats of war. There needed no li-
censing of books among them for they disliked all, but their own
Laconic Apothegms, and took a slight occasion to chase Archilochus
out of their city, perhaps for composing in a higher strain than their
own soldierly ballads and roundelays could reach to: Or if it were
for his broad verses, they were not therein so cautious, but they
were as dissolute in their promiscuous conversing," whence Euripi-
des affirms in Andromache, that their women were all unchaste.
Thus much may give us light after what sort books were prohibited
among the Greeks. The Romans also for many ages trained up
only to a military roughness, resembling most of the Lacedamonian
guise, knew of learning little but what their twelve tables, and the
Pontific college with their Augurs and Flamins taught them in re-
ligion and law, so unacquainted with other learning, that when
Carneades and Critolaus, with the Stoic Diogenes coming ambassa-
dors to Rome, took thereby occasion to give the city a taste of their
philosophy, they were suspected for seducers by no less a man than
Cato the censor, who moved it in the senate to dismiss them speed-
ily, and to banish all such Attic babblers out of Italy. But Scipio
and others of the noblest senators withstood him and his old Sabine
austerity; honored and admired the men; and the censor himself
at last in his old age fell to the study of that whereof before he
was so scrupulous. And yet at the same time Ncevius and Plautus
" Inartistic. '• Intercourse.

AREOPAGITICA 195

the first Latin comedians had filled the city with all the borrowed
scenes of Menander and Philemon. Then began to be considered
there also what was to be done to libelous books and authors; for
Nxvius was quickly cast into prison for his unbridled pen, and
released by the Tribunes upon his recantation: We read also that
libels were burned, and the makers punished by Augustus. The like
severity no doubt was used if aught were impiously written against
their esteemed gpds. Except in these two points, how the world
went in books, the magistrate kept no reckoning. And therefore
Lucretius without impeachment versifies his epicurism to Mem-
mius, and had the honor to be set forth the second time by Cicero
so great a father of the commonwealth; although himself disputes
against that opinion in his own writings. Nor was the satirical
sharpness, or naked plainness of Lucilius, or Catullus, or Flaccus,
by any order prohibited. And for matters of state, the story of
Titius Livius, though it extolled that part which Pompey held, was
not therefore suppressed by Octavius Ctesar of the other faction.
But that Naso was by him banished in his old age, for the wanton
poems of his youth, was but a mere covert of state over some secret
cause: and besides, the books were neither banished nor called in.
From hence we shall meet with little else but tyranny in the Roman
empire, that we may not marvel, if not so often bad, as good books
were silenced. I shall therefore deem to have been large enough in
producing what among the ancients was punishable to write, save
only which, all other arguments were free to treat on.

By this time the emperors were become Christians, whose disci-
pline in this point I do not find to have been more severe than
what was formerly in practise. The books of those whom they took
to be grand heretics were examined, refuted, and condemned in the
general counsels; and not till then were prohibited, or burned by
authority of the emperor. As for the writings of heathen authors,
unless they were plain invectives against Christianity, as those of
Porphyrius and Proclus, they met with no inderdict that can be
cited, till about the year 400, in a Carthaginian council, wherein
bishops themselves were forbidden to read the books of Gentiles,
but heresies they might read: while others long before them on the
contrary scrupled more the books of heretics, than of Gentiles. And

196 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

that the primitive councils and bishops were wont only to declare
what books were not commendable, passing no further, but leaving
it to each one's conscience to read or to lay by, till after the year
800 is observed already by Padre Paolo the great unmasker of the
Trentine Council. After which time the Popes of Rome engrossing
what they pleased of political rule into their own hands, extended
their dominion over men's eyes, as they had before over their judg-
ments, burning and prohibiting to be read, what they fancied not;
yet sparing in their censures, and the books not many which they
so dealt with: till Martin V by his bull not only prohibited,
but was the first that excommunicated the reading of heretical
books; for about that time Wyclif and Huss growing terrible, were
they who first drove the papal court to a stricter policy of prohibit-
ing. Which course Leo X, and his successors followed, until the
Council of Trent, and the Spanish inquisition engendering together
brought forth, or perfected those catalogues, and expurging indexes
that rake through the entrails of many an old good author, with a
violation worse than any could be offered to his tomb. Nor did
they stay in matters heretical, but any subject that was not to their
palate, they either condemned in a prohibition, or had it straight
into the new purgatory of an index. To fill up the measure of en-
croachment, their last invention was to ordain that no book, pam-
phlet, or paper should be printed (as if St. Peter had bequeathed them
the keys of the press also out of Paradise) unless it were approved
and licensed under the hands of two or three glutton friars. For
example:

Let the Chancellor Cini be pleased to see if in this present work
be contained ought that may withstand'" the printing.

Vincent Rabatta, Vicar of Florence.

I have seen this present work, and find nothing athwart the
Catholic faith and good manners: in witness whereof I have given,
etc

Nicolo Cini, Chancellor of Florence.

*» Forbid.

AREOPAGITICA I97

Attending the precedent relation, it is allowed that this present
work of Davanzati may be printed,

Vincent Rabbatta, etc.

It may be printed, July 15.

Friar Simon Mompei d' Amelia,
Chancellor of the holy office in Florence.

Sure they have a conceit, if he of the bottomless pit had not long
since broke prison, that this quadruple exorcism would bar him
down. I fear their next design will be to get into their custody
the licensing of that which they say Claudius intended, but went
not through with. Vouchsafe to see another of their forms the
Roman stamp:

Imprimaturs^ if it seem good to the reverend master of the holy
palace,

Belcastro, Vicegerent.

Imprimatur, Friar Nicolo Rodolphi, Master of the holy palace.

Sometimes five Imprimaturs are seen together dialogue-wise in
the Piatza of one title-page, complimenting and ducking each to
other with their shaven reverences, whether the author, who stands
by in perplexity at the foot of his epistle, shall to the press or to
the sponge. These are the pretty responsories, these are the dear
antiphonies that so bewitched of late our prelates, and their chap-
lains with the goodly echo they made; and besotted us to the gay
imitation of the lordly Imprimatur, one from Lambeth house,^' an-
other from the West end of Pauls,"" so apishly Romanizing, that
the word of command still was set down in Latin; as if the learned
grammatical pen that wrote it, would cast no ink without Latin;
or perhaps, as they thought, because no vulgar tongue was worthy
to express the pure conceit of an Imprimatur; but rather, as I hope,
for that our English, the language of men ever famous, and fore-
most in the achievements of liberty, will not easily find servile
letters enough to spell such a dictatorie" presumption English. And
thus ye have the inventors and the original of book-licensing ripped
up, and drawn as lineally as any pedigree. We have it not, that can

" Let it be primed (Latin). '^ Residence of the Archbishop of Canterbur)'.
" Where the Bishop of London formerly lived. " Dictatorial.

198 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

be heard of, from any ancient state, or polity, or church, nor by any
statute left us by our ancestors, elder or later; nor from the modern
custom of any reformed city, or church abroad; but from the most
Antichristian Council" and the most tyrannous inquisition that
ever inquired. Till then books were ever as freely admitted into
the world as any other birth; the issue of the brain was no more
stifled than the issue of the womb : no envious Juno sat cross-legged^'
over the nativity of any man's intellectual offspring; but if it proved
a monster, who denies, but that it was justly burned, or sunk in the
sea. But that a book in worse condition than a peccant soul, should
be to stand before a jury ere it be borne to the world, and undergo
yet in darkness the judgment of Radamanth and his colleagues,"
ere it can pass the ferry backward into light, was never heard before,
till that mysterious iniquity^ provoked and troubled at the first
entrance of reformation, sought out new limbos and new hells,
wherein they might include our books also within the number of
their damned. And this was the rare morsel so officiously snatched
up, and so ill-favoredly imitated by our inquisiturient™ bishops, and
the attendant minorites*" their chaplains. That ye like not now
these most certain authors of this licensing order, and that all sinis-
ter intention was far distant from your thoughts, when ye were
importuned the passing it, all men who know the integrity of your
actions, and how ye honor truth, will clear ye readily.

But some will say, what though the inventors were bad, the
thing for all that may be good? It may so: yet if that thing be no
such deep invention, but obvious, and easy for any man to light on,
and yet best and wisest commonwealths through all ages, and occa-
sions have forborne to use it, and falsest seducers, and oppressors of
men were the first who took it up, and to no other purpose but to
obstruct and hinder the first approach of Reformation; I am of
those who believe, it will be a harder alchemy than Lullius^^ ever
knew, to sublimate"^ any good use out of such an invention. Yet
this only is what I request to gain from this reason, that it may
be held a dangerous and suspicious fruit, as certainly it deserves
for the tree that bore it, until I can dissect one by one the proper-

" Council of Trent. ^ As at the birth of Hercules. ^' The judges in Hades.

** The Church of Rome. '* Desirous of becoming inquisitors. ** Franciscan

friars. "Raymond Lully, a scientist of the 13th century. ''Extract.

AREOPAGITICA 1 99

ties it has. But I have first to finish as was propounded, what is to
be thought in general of reading books, whatever sort they be,
and whether be more the benefit, or the harm that thence pro-
ceeds?

Not to insist upon the examples of Moses, Daniel and Paul, who
were skilful in all the learning of the Egyptians, Chaldeans, and
Greeks, which could not probably be without reading their books
of all sorts in Paul especially, who thought it no defilement to insert
into holy Scripture, the sentences of three Greek poets, and one of
them a tragedian, the question was, notwithstanding sometimes con-
troverted among the primitive doctors, but with great odds on that
side which affirmed it both lawful and profitable, as was then evi-
dently perceived, when Julian the Apostate, and subtlest enemy of
our faith, made a decree forbidding Christians the study of heathen
learning: for, said he, they wound us with our own weapons, and
with our own arts and sciences they overcome us. And indeed the
Christians were put so to their shifts by this crafty means, and so
much in danger to decline into all ignorance, that the two Apollinarii
were fain as a man may say, to coin all the seven liberal sciences out
of the Bible, reducing it into divers forms or orations, poems, di-
alogues, even to the calculating of a new Christian grammar. But
saith the historian Socrates, the providence of God provided better
than the industry of Apollinarius and his son, by taking away that
illiterate law with the life of him who devised it. So great an injury
they then held it to be deprived of Hellenic learning; and thought
it a jjersecution more undermining, and secretly decaying the church
than the open cruelty of Decius or Dioclesian. And perhaps it was
the same politic drift that the devil whipped St. Jerome in a lenten
dream, for reading Cicero; or else it was a phantasm bred by the
fever which had then seis'd" him. For had an angel been his dis-
cipliner, unless it were for dwelling too much upon Ciceronian-
isms, and had chastised the reading, not the vanity, it had been
plainly partial; first to correct him for grave Cicero, and not for
scurril Plautus whom he confesses to have been reading not long
before; next to correct him only, and let so many more ancient
Fathers wax old in those pleasant and florid studies without the

"Possessed.

200 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

lash of such a tutoring apparition; insomuch that Basil teaches how
some good use may be made of Margitcs a sportful poem, not now
extant, written by Homer; and why not then of Morgante an Italian
romance much to the same purpose. But if it be agreed we shall be
tried by visions, there is a vision recorded by Eusebius far ancienter
than this tale of Jerome to the nun Eustochium, and besides has
nothing of a fever in it. Dionysius Alexandrinus was about the year
240, a person of great name in the Church for piety and learning,
who had wont to avail himself much against heretics by being
conversant in their books; until a certain presbyter laid it scrupu-
lously to his conscience how he durst venture himself among those
defiling volumes. The worthy man loath to give offense fell into
a new debate with himself what was to be thought; when suddenly
a vision sent from God, it is his own episde that so avers it, con-
firmed him in these words: read any books what ever come to thy
hands, for thou art sufficient both to judge aright, and to examine
each matter. To this revelation he assented the sooner, as he confesses,
because it was answerable to" that of the Apostle to the Thessa-
lonians, prove" all things, hold fast that which is good. And he
might have added another remarkable saying of the same author;
to the pure all things are pure, not only meats and drinks, but all
kind of knowledge whether of good or evil ; the knowledge can not
defile, nor consequently the books, if the will and conscience be not
defiled. For books are as meats and viands are, some of good, some
of evil substance; and yet God in that unapocryphal vision, said
without exception rise Peter, kill and eat, leaving the choice to each
man's discretion. Wholesome meats to a vitiated stomach differ litde
or nothing from unwholesome; and best books to a naughty mind
are not unappliable to occasions of evil. Bad meats will scarce breed
good nourishment in the healthiest concoction: but herein the differ-
ence is of bad books, that they to a discreet and judicious reader
serve in many respects to discover, to confute, to forewarn, and to
illustrate. Whereof what better witness can ye expect I should pro-
duce, than one of your own now sitting in Parliament, the chief of
learned men reputed in this land, Mr. Selden, whose volume of
natural and national laws proves, not only by great authorities

"Consistent with. "Test.

AREOPAGITICA 201

brought together, but by exquisite** reasons and theorems almost
mathematically demonstrative, that all opinions, yea errors, known,
read, and collated, are of main service and assistance toward the
speedy attainment of what is truest. I conceive therefore, that when
God did enlarge the universal diet of man's body, saving ever the
rules of temperance, he then also, as before, left arbitrary the dieting
and repasting of our minds; as wherein every mature man might
have to exercise his own leading capacity. How great a virtue is
temperance, how much of moment through the whole life of man?
yet God commits the managing so great a trust, without particular
law or prescription, wholly to the demeanor of every grown man.
And therefore when he himself tabled" the Jews from heaven, that
omer which was every man's daily portion of manna, is computed
to have been more than might have well sufficed the heartiest feeder
thrice as many meals. For those actions which enter into a man,
rather than issue out of him, and therefore defile not, God uses not
to captivate under a perpetual childhood of prescription, but trusts
him with the gift of reason to be his own chooser; there were but
little work left for preaching, if law and compulsion [should] grow
so fast upon those things which heretofore were governed only by
exhortation. Solomon informs us that much reading is a weariness
to the flesh; but neither he, nor other inspired author, tells us that
such or such reading is unlawful: yet certainly had God thought
good to limit us herein, it had been much more expedient to have
told us what was unlawful, than what was wearisome. As for the
burning of those Ephesian books by St. Paul's converts, it is replied
the books were magic, the Syriac so renders them. It was a private
act, a voluntary act, and leaves us to a voluntary imitation: the men
in remorse burned those books which were their own; the Magis-
trate by this example is not appointed: these men practised the books,
another might perhaps have read them in some sort usefully. Good
and evil we know in the field of this world grow up together almost
inseparably; and the knowledge of good is so involved and inter-
woven with the knowledge of evil, and in so many cunning re-
semblances hardly to be discerned, that those confused seeds which
were imposed on Psyche as an incessant labor to cull out, and sort

" Carefully sought out. " Fed.

202 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

asunder, were not more intermixed. It was from out of the rind of
one apple tasted, that the knowledge of good and evil as two twins
cleaving together leaped forth into the world. And perhaps this is
that doom which Adam fell into of knowing good and evil, that is
to say of knowing good by evil. As therefore the state of man now
is; what wisdom can there be to choose, what continence to forbear
without the knowledge of evil? He that can apprehend and con-
sider vice with all her baits and seeming pleasures, and yet abstain,
and yet distinguish, and yet prefer that which is truly better, he is
the true warfaring Christian. I can not praise a fugitive and cloistered
virtue, unexercised and unbreathed, that never sallies out and sees
her adversary, but slinks out of the race, where that immortal gar-
land is to be run for, not without dust and heat. Assuredly we bring
not innocence into the world, we bring impurity much rather: that
which purifies us is trial, and trial is by what is contrary. That vir-
tue therefore which is but a youngling in the contemplation of evil,
and knows not the utmost that vice promises to her followers, and
rejects it, is but a blank virtue, not a pure; her whiteness is but an
excrementaP whiteness; which was the reason why our sage and
serious poet Spenser, whom I dare be known to think a better teacher
than Scotus or Aquinas, describing true temperance under the person
of Guion, brings him in with his palmer through the cave of Mam-
mon, and the bower of earthly bliss that he might see and know,
and yet abstain. Since therefore the knowledge and survey of vice
is in this world so necessary to the constituting of human virtue, and
the scanning of error to the confirmation of truth, how can we more
safely, and with less danger scout into the regions of sin and falsity
than by reading all manner of tracts, and hearing all manner of
reason? And this is the benefit which may be had of books pro-
miscuously read. But of the harm that may result hence three kinds
are usually reckoned. First, is feared the infection that may spread;
but then all human learning and controversy in religious points must
remove out of the world, yea the Bible itself; for that ofttimes relates
blasphemy not nicely,'' it describes the carnal sense of wicked men
not unelegantly," it brings in holiest men passionately murmuring
against Providence through all the arguments of Epicurus: in other
" External. ^ Fastidiously. *" Not without elaboration.

AREOPAGITICA 203

great disputes it answers dubiously and darkly to the common
reader: and ask a Talmudist what ails the modesty of his marginal
keri/' that Moses and all the Prophets can not persuade him to pro-
nounce the textual chetiv." For these causes we all know the Bible
itself put by the Papist into the first rank of prohibited books. The
ancientest Fathers must be next removed, as Clement of Alexandria,
and that Eitsebian book of evangelic preparation, transmitting our
ears through a hoard of heathenish obscenities to receive the Gospel.
Who finds not that Irenceus, Epiphanius, Jerome, and others dis-
cover more heresies than they well confute, and that oft for heresy
which is the truer opinion. Nor boots it to say for these, and all the
heathen writers of greatest infection, if it must be thought so, with
whom is bound up the life of human learning, that they wrote in an
unknown tongue, so long as we are sure those languages are known
as well to the worst of men, who are both most able, and most dili-
gent to instil the poison they suck, first into the courts of princes,
acquainting them with the choicest delights, and criticisms of sin.
As perhaps did that Petronius whom Nero called his Arbiter, the
master of his revels; and that notorious ribald of Arezzo," dreaded,
and yet dear to the Italian courtiers. I name not him" for posterity's
sake, whom Harry the Eighth, named in merriment his vicar of
hell. By which compendious way all the contagion that foreign
books can infuse, will find a passage to the people far easier and
shorter than an Indian voyage, though it could be sailed either by
the north of Cataio^ eastward, or of Canada westward, while our
Spanish licensing gags the English press never so severely. But on
the other side that infection which is from books of controversy in
religion, is more doubtful and dangerous to the learned, than to the
ignorant; and yet those books must be permitted untouched by the
licenser. It will be hard to instance where any ignorant man hath
been ever seduced by Papistical book in English, unless it were
commended and expounded to him by some of that clergy: and
indeed all such tracts whether false or true are as the Prophecy of
Isaiah was to the Eunuch, not to be understood without a guide.
But of our priests and doctors how many have been corrupted by

*' Comment. ^'Tcxt. *'Aretino. *• Probably the poet Skelton.
« Cathay, in Tartary.

204 ^ SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

studying the comments of Jesuits and Sorbonnists,** and how fast
they could transfuse that corruption into the people, our experience
is both late and sad. It is not forgot, since the acute and distinct"
Arminius was perverted merely by the perusing of a nameless dis-
course written at Delft, which at first he took in hand to confute.
Seeing therefore that those books, and those in great abundance
which are likeliest to taint both life and doctrine, can not be sup-
pressed without the fall of learning, and of all ability in disputation,
and that these books of either sort are most and soonest catching to
the learned, from whom to the common people whatever is heretical
or dissolute may quickly be conveyed, and that evil manners are as
perfectly learned without books a thousand other ways which can
not be stopped, and evil doctrine not with books can propagate,
except a teacher guide, which he might also do without writing, and
so beyond prohibiting, I am not able to unfold, how this cautelous"
enterprise of licensing can be exempted from the number of vain and
impossible attempts. And he who were pleasantly disposed, could
not well avoid to liken it to the exploit of that gallant man who
thought to pound up the crows by shutting his park gate. Besides
another inconvenience, if learned men be the first receivers out of
books and dispreaders both of vice and error, how shall the licensers
themselves be confided in, unless we can confer upon them, or they
assume to themselves above all others in the land, the grace of in-
fallibility, and uncorruptedness? And again if it be true, that a wise
man like a good refiner can gather gold out of the drossiest volume,
and that a fool will be a fool with the best book, yea or without
book, there is no reason that we should deprive a wise man of any
advantage to his wisdom, while we seek to restrain from a fool
that which being restrained will be no hindrance to his folly. For
if there should be so much exactness always used to keep that from
him which is unfit for his reading, we should in judgment of Aris-
totle not only, but of Solomon, and of our Saviour, not vouchsafe
him good precepts, and by consequence not willingly admit him to
good books, as being certain that a wise man will make better use
of an idle pamphlet, than a fool will do of sacred Scripture. It is next

* From the theological college of the Sorbonne, in Paris. " Clear-thinking.
** Tricky, deceptive.

AREOPAGITICA 205

alleged we must not expose ourselves to temptations without neces-
sity, and next to that, not employ our time in vain things. To both
these objections one answer will serve, out of the grounds already
laid, that to all men such books are not temptations, nor vanities;
but useful drugs and materials wherewith to temper and compose
effective and strong medicines, which man's life can not want/' The
rest, as children and childish men, who have not the art to qualify
and prepare these working minerals, well may be exhorted to for-
bear, but hindered forcibly they can not be by all the licensing that
sainted inquisition could ever yet contrive; which is what I promised
to deliver next, that this order of licensing conduces nothing to the
end for which it was framed: and hath almost prevented*" me by
being clear already while thus much hath been explaining. See the
ingenuity" of truth, who when she gets a free and willing hand,
opens herself faster, than the pace of method and discourse can over-
take her. It was the task which I began with, to show that no na-
tion, or well instituted state, if they valued books at all, did ever
use this way of licensing; and it might be answered, that this is a
piece of prudence lately discovered, to which I return, that as it was
a thing slight and obvious to think on, for if it had been difficult
to find out, there wanted not among them long since, who suggested
such a course; which they not following, leave us a pattern of their
judgment, that it was not the not knowing, but the not approving,
which was the cause of their not using it. Plato, a man of high
authority indeed, but least of all for his Commonwealth, in the book
of his laws, which no city ever received, fed his fancy with making
many edicts to his airy" burgomasters, which they who otherwise
admire him, wish had been rather buried and excused in the genial
cups of an academic night-sitting. By which laws he seems to toler-
ate no kind of learning, but by unalterable decree, consisting most of
practical traditions, to the attainment whereof a library of smaller
bulk than his own dialogues would be abundant. And there also
enacts that no poet should so much as read to any private man, what
he had written, until the judges and lawkeepers had seen it, and
allowed it: but that Plato meant this law peculiarly to that Com-
monwealth which he had imagined, and to no other, is evident.
*• Do without. ** Anticipated. " Ingenuousness, frankness. '' Imaginary.

206 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

Why was he not else a law-giver to himself, but a transgressor, and
to be expelled by his own magistrates, both for the wanton epigrams
and dialogues which he made, and his perpetual reading of Sophron
Mimus, and Aristophanes, books of grossest infamy, and also for
commending the latter of them though he were the malicious libeller
of his chief friends," to be read by the tyrant Dionysius, who had
litde need of such trash to spend his time on? But that he knew
this licensing of poems had reference and dependence to many other
provisos there set down in his fancied republic, which in this world
could have no place: and so neither he himself, nor any magistrate,
or city ever imitated that course, which taken apart from those other
collateral injunctions must needs be vain and fruitless. For if they
fell upon" one kind of strictness, unless their care were equal to
regulate all other things of like aptness to corrupt the mind, that
single endeavor they knew would be but a fond labor; to shut and
fortify one gate against corruption, and be necessitated to leave
others round about wide open. If we think to regulate printing,
thereby to rectify manners, we must regulate all recreations and
pastimes, all that is delightful to man. No music must be heard,
no song be set or sung, but what is grave and Doric. There must
be licensing dancers, that no gesture, motion, or department be
taught our youth but what by their allowance shall be thought
honest; for such Plato was provided of; it will ask more than the
work of twenty licensers to examine all the lutes, the violins, and
the guitars in every house; they must not be suffered to pratde as
they do, but must be licensed what they may say. And who shall
silence all the airs and madrigals, that whisper softness in chambers?
The windows also, and the balconies must be thought on, there are
shrewd" books, with dangerous frontispieces set to sale; who shall
prohibit them, shall twenty licensers? The villages also must have
their visitors to inquire what lectures the bagpipe and the rebbeck"
reads even to the balladry, and the gamut of every municipal fiddler,
for these are the countryman's Arcadia^^ and his Monte Mayors"
Next, what more national corruption, for which England hears ill"
abroad, then household gluttony; who shall be the rectors" of our

*• E. g., of Socrates. '* Adopted vigorously. " Wicked. " Fiddle. " Popular
novels of the 15th century. *• Is ill-spoken of. *• Governors.

AREOPAGITICA 10']

daily rioting? and what shall be done to inhibit the multitudes that
frequent those houses where drunkenness is sold and harbored? Our
garments also should be referred to the licensing of some more sober
work-masters to see them cut into a less wanton garb. Who shall
regulate all the mixed conversation*" of our youth, male and female
together, as is the fashion of this country, who shall still appwint
what shall be discoursed, what presumed, and no further? Lasdy,
who shall forbid and separate all idle resort, all evil company ? These
things will be, and must be; but how they shall be less hurtful, how
less enticing, herein consists the grave and governing wisdom of a
State. To sequester out of the world into Atlantic and Utopian
polities," which never can be drawn into use, will not mend our
condition; but to ordain wisely as in this world of evil, in the midst ,
whereof God hath placed us unavoidably. Nor is it Plato's licensing
of books will do this, which necessarily pulls along with it so many
other kinds of licensing, as will make us all both ridiculous and
weary, and yet frustrate; but those unwritten, or at least unconstrain-
ing laws of virtuous education, religious and civil nurture, which
Plato there mentions, as the bonds and ligaments of the Common-
wealth, the pillars and the sustainers of every written statute; these
they be which will bear chief sway in such matters as these, when
all licensing will be easily eluded. Impunity and remissness, for
certain are the bane of a Commonwealth, but here the great art lies
to discern in what the law is to bid restraint and punishment, and
in what things persuasion only is to work. If every action which is
good, or evil in man at rif)e years, were to be under pittance, and
prescription, and compulsion, what were virtue but a name, what
praise could be then due to well-doing, what grammercy'^ to be
sober, just, or continent? many there be that complain of divine
providence for suffering Adam to transgress, foolish tongues! when
God gave him reason, he gave him freedom to choose, for reason is
but choosing; he had been else a mere artificial Adam, such an Adam
as he is in the motions." We ourselves esteem not of that obedience,
or love, or gift, which is of force; God therefore left him free, set
before him a provoking object, ever almost in his eyes herein con-

•• Intercourse. " /. e., into imaKUiary commonwealths, like Bacon's "New Atlantis"
and More's "Utopia." •* Great thanks. " Puppet shows.

208 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

sisted his merit, herein the right of his reward, the praise of his
abstinence. Wherefore did he create passions within us, pleasures
round about us, but that these rightly tempered are the very ingredi-
ents of virtue? They are not skilful considerers of human things,
who imagine to remove sin by removing the matter of sin; for, be-
sides that it is a huge heap increasing under the very act of dimin-
ishing though some part of it may for a time be withdrawn from
some persons, it can not frorr. all, in such a universal thing as books
are; and when this is done, yet the sin remains entire. Though ye
take from a covetous man all his treasure he has yet one jewel left,
ye can not bereave him of his covetousness. Banish all objects of
lust, shut up all youth into the severest discipline that can be exer-
cised in any hermitage, ye can not make them chaste, that came not
thither so; such great care and wisdom is required to the right man-
aging of this point. Suppose we could expel sin by this means; look
how much we thus expel of sin, so much we expel of virtue: for the
matter of them both is the same; remove that, and ye remove them
both alike. This justifies the high providence of God, who though
he command us temperance, justice, continence, yet pours out before
us even to a profuseness all desirable things, and gives us minds that
can wander beyond all limit and satiety. Why should we then effect
a rigor contrary to the manner of God and of nature, by abridging or
scanting those means, which books freely permitted are, both to
the trial of virtue, and the exercise of truth. It would be better done
to learn that the law must needs be frivolous which goes to restrain
things, uncertainly and yet equally working to good, and to evil.
And werfi I the chooser, a dram of well-doing should be preferred
before many times as much the forcible hindrance of evil-doing. For
God sure esteems the growth and completing of one virtuous person,
more than the restraint of ten vicious. And albeit whatever thing
we hear or see, sitting, walking, traveling, or conversing may be fitly
called our book, and is of the same effect that writings are, yet grant
the thing to be prohibited were only books, it appears that this order
hitherto is far insufficient to the end which it intends. Do we not
see, not once or oftener, but weekly that continued court-libel"
against the Parliament and city, printed, as the wet sheets can wit-
""Mercurius Aulicus," a royalist journal.

AREOPAGITICA 20g

ness, and dispersed among us for all that licensing can do? yet this
is the prime service a man would think, wherein this order should
give proof of itself. If it were executed, you'll say. But certain, if
execution be remiss or blindfold now, and in this particular, what,
will it be hereafter, and in other books. If then the order shall not
be vain and frustrate, behold a new labor. Lords and Commons, ye
must repeal and proscribe all scandalous and unlicensed books al-
ready printed and divulged": after ye have drawn them up into a
list, that all may know which are condemned, and which not; and
ordain that no foreign books be delivered out of custody, till they
have been read over. This office will require the whole time of not
a few overseers, and those no vulgar" men. There be also books
which are partly useful and excellent, partly culpable and pernicious;
this work will ask as many more officials to make expurgations and
expunctions," that the commonwealth of learning be not damnified."
In fine, when the multitude of books increase upon their hands, ye
must be fain to catalogue all those printers who are found frequently
offending, and forbid the importation of their whole suspected
typography. In a word, that this order may be exact, and not defi-
cient, ye must reform it perfectly according to the model of Trent**
and Seville^" which I know ye abhor to do. Yet though ye should
condescend to this, which God forbid, the order still would be but
fruidess and defective to that end whereto ye meant it. If to pre-
vent sects and schisms, who is so unread or so uncatechised in story,
that hath not heard of many sects refusing books as a hindrance, and
preserving their doctrine unmixed for many ages, only by unwritten
traditions. The Christian faith, for that was once a schism, is not
unknown to have spread all over Asia, ere any Gospel or Epistle was
seen in writing. If the amendment of manners be aimed at, look into
Italy and Spain, whether those places be one scruple the better, the
more honest, the wiser, the chaster, since all the inquisitional rigor
that hath been executed upon books.

Another reason, whereby to make it plain that this order will miss
the end it seeks, consider by the quality which ought to be in every
licenser. It can not be denied but that he who is made judge to sit

" Published. •* Ordinary. •' Omissions. " Injured. " Council of Trent.
""^ Headquarters of the Spanish Inquisition.

210 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

upon the birth, or death of books whether they may be wafted into
this world, or not, had need to be a man above the common measure,
both studious, learned, and judicious; there may be else no mean
mistakes in the censure of what is passable or not; which is also no
mean injury. If he be of such worth as behooves him, there can
not be a more tedious and unpleasing journey-work, a greater loss
of times levied upon his head, than to be made the perpetual reader
of unchosen books and pamphlets, ofttimes huge volumes. There is
no book that is acceptable unless at certain seasons; but to be en-
joined the reading of that at all times, and in a hand scarce legible,
whereof three pages would not down at any time in the fairest
print, is an imposition which I can not believe how he that values
time, and his own studies, or is but of a sensible nostril should be
able to endure. In this one thing I crave leave of the present licensers
to be pardoned for so thinking: who doubtless took this office up,
looking on it through their obedience to the Parliament, whose com-
mand perhaps made all things seem easy and unlaborious to them;
but that this short trial hath wearied them out already, their own ex-
pressions and excuses to them who make so many journeys to solicit
their license, are testimony enough. Seeing therefore those who now
possess the employment, by all evident signs with themselves well rid
of it, and that no man of worth, none that is not a plain unthrift of his
own hours is ever likely to succeed them, except he mean to put him-
self to the salary of a press-corrector, we may easily foresee what kind
of licensers we are to expect hereafter, either ignorant, imperious,
and remiss, or basely pecuniary. This is what I had to show wherein
this order can not conduce to that end, whereof it bears the inten-
tion.

I lastly proceeded from the no good it can do, to the manifest hurt
it causes, in being first the greatest discouragement and affront that
can be offered to learning and to learned men. It was the complaint
and lamentation of prelates, upon every least breath of a motion to
remove pluralities," and distribute more eqimlly church revenues,
that then all learning would be forever dashed and discouraged. But
as for that opinion, I never found cause to think that the tenth part

^' The holding of several livings by one clerg)'man had been a chief cause of
complaint against the Episcopal Church.

AREOPAGITICA 211

o£ learning stood or fell with the clergy: nor could I ever but hold it
for a sordid and unworthy speech of any churchman who had a com-
petency left him. If therefore ye be loath to dishearten utterly and
discontent, not the mercenary crew of false pretenders to learning,
but the free and ingenuous sort of such as evidently were born to
study, and love learning for itself, not for lucre, or any other end,
but the service of God and of truth, and perhaps that lasting fame
and perpetuity of praise which God and good men have consented
shall be the reward of those whose published labors advance the good
of mankind, then know, that so far to distrust the judgment and the
honesty of one who hath but a common repute in learning, and
never yet offended, as not to count him fit to print his mind without
a tutor and examiner, lest he should drop a schism, or something
of corruption, is the greatest displeasure and indignity to a free and
knowing spirit that can be put upon him. What advantage is it to
be a man over it is to be a boy at school, if we have only escaped the
ferular," to come under the fescu" of an Imprimatur? if serious and
elaborate writings, as if they were no more than the theme of a gram-
mar lad under his pedagogue must not be uttered" without the
cursory eyes of a temporizing and extemporizing licenser. He who
is not trusted with his own actions, his drift not being known to be
evil, and standing to the hazard of law and penalty, has no great
argument to think himself reputed in the commonwealth wherein
he was born, for other than a fool or a foreigner. When a man writes
to the world, he summons up all his reason, and deliberation to assist
him; he searches, meditates, is industrious, and likely consults and
confers with his judicious friends; after all which done he takes him-
self to be informed in what he writes, as well as any that wrote
before him; if in this the most consummate act of his fidelity and
ripeness, no years, no industry, no former proof of his abilities can
bring him to that state of maturity, as not to be still mistrusted and
suspected, unless he carry all his considerate diligence, all his mid-
night watchings, and expense of Palladiari'* oil, to the hasty view of
an unleisured licenser, perhaps much his younger, perhaps far his
inferior in judgment, perhaps one who never knew the labor of
book-writing, and if he be not repulsed, or slighted, must appear in
^ Rod. " Published. '* From Pallas, goddess of learning.

212 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

print like a puny" with his guardian, and his censor's hand on the
back of his title to be his bail and surety, that he is no idiot, or
seducer, it can not be but a dishonor and derogation to the author,
to the book, to the privilege and dignity of learning. And what if the
author shall be one so copious of fancy, as to have many things well
worth the adding, come into his mind after licensing, while the book
is yet under the press, which not seldom happens to the best and
most diligent writers; and that perhaps a dozen times in one book.
The printer dares not go beyond his licensed copy; so often then must
the author trudge to his leave-giver, that those his new insertions may
be viewed; and many a jaunt will be made, ere that licenser, for it
must be the same man, can either be found, or found at leisure;
meanwhile either the press must stand still, which is no small dam-
age, or the author lose his most accurate thoughts, and send the book
forth worse than he had made it, which to a diligent writer is the
greatest melancholy and vexation that can befall. And how can a
man teach with authority, which is the life of teaching, how can he
be a doctor in his book as he ought to be, or else had better be silent,
whenas all he teaches, all he delivers, is but under the tuition, under
the correction of his patriarchal licenser to blot or alter what pre-
cisely accords not with the hidebound humor which he calls his
judgment? When every acute reader upon the first sight of a pe-
dantic license, will be ready with these like words to ding" the book
a quoit's distance from him: "I hate a pupil teacher, I endure not an
instructor that comes to me under the wardship of an overseeing fist,
I know nothing of the licenser, but that I have his own hand here
for his arrogance; who shall warrant me his judgment?" "The
State, sir," replies the Stationer, but has a quick return: "The State
shall be my governors, but not my critics; they may be mistaken in
the choice of a licenser, as easily as this licenser may be mistaken in
an author: this is some common stuff;" and he might add from Sir
Francis Bacon, That such authorized books are but the language
of the times. For though a licenser should happen to be judicious
more than ordinarily, which will be a great jeopardy of the next
succession, yet his very office, and his commission enjoins him to let
pass nothing but what is vulgarly received already. Nay, which is
" Minor. " Throw violently.

AREOPAGITICA 213

more lamentable, if the work of any deceased author, thougK never
so famous in his lifetime, and even to this day, come to other hands
for license to be printed, or reprinted, if there be found in his book
one sentence of a venturous edge, uttered in the height of zeal, and
who knows whether it might not be the dictate of a divine spirit, yet
not suiting with every low decrepit humor of their own, though it
were Knox himself, the reformer of a kingdom that spake it, they will
not pardon him their dash:" the sense of that great man shall to all
posterity be lost, for the fearfulness, or the presumptuous rashness of
a perfunctory licenser. And to what an author this violence hath
been lately done, and in what book of greatest consequence to be
faithfully published, I could now instance, but shall forbear till a
more convenient season. Yet if these things be not resented seriously
and timely by them who have the remedy in their power, but that
such iron molds" as these shall have authority to gnaw out the
choicest periods of the most exquisite books, and to commit such a
treacherous fraud against the orphan remainders of worthiest men
after death, the more sorrow will belong to that hapless race of men,
whose misfortune it is to have understanding. Henceforth let no
man care to learn, or care to be more than worldly wise; for certainly
in higher matters to be ignorant and slothful, to be a common stead-
fast dunce will be the only pleasant life, and only in request.

And as it is a particular disesteem of every knowing person alive,
and most injurious to the written labors and monuments of the dead,
so to me it seems an undervaluing and vilifying" of the whole
nation. I can not set so light by all the invention, the art, the wit,
the grave and solid judgment which is in England, as that it can be
comprehended in any twenty capacities how good soever, much less
that it should not pass except their superintendence be over it, ex-
cept it be sifted and strained with their strainers, that it should be
uncurrent without their manual stamp. Truth and understanding
are not such wares as to be monopolized and traded in by tickets "°
and statutes, and standards. We must not think to make a staple
commodity of all the knowledge in the land, to mark and license it
like our broadcloth, and our wool packs. What is it but a servitude
like that imposed by the Philistines, not to be allowed the sharpen-
" Dare to blot it out. " Rust. " Cheapening. "> Receipts.

214 ^ SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

ing of our own axes and coulters, but we must repair from all quar-
ters to twenty licensing forges. Had any one written and diviJged
erroneous things and scandalous to honest life, misusing and for-
feiting the esteem had of his reason among men, if after convic-
tion this only censure were adjudged him, that he should never
henceforth write, but what were first examined by an appointed
officer, whose hand should be annexed to pass his credit for him,
that now he might be safely read, it could not be apprehended less
than a disgraceful punishment. Whence to include the whole na-
tion, and those that never yet thus offended, under such a diffident"
and suspectful prohibition, may plainly be understood what a dis-
paragement it is. So much the more, when as debtors and delin-
quents may walk abroad without a keeper, but unoffensive books
must not stir forth without a visible jailer in their title. Nor is it
to the common people less than a reproach; for if we be so jealous
over*^ them, as that we dare not trust them with an English pamph-
let, what do we but censure them for a giddy, vicious, and un-
grounded f)eople; in such a sick and weak estate of faith and discre-
tion, as to be able to take nothing down but through the pipe of a
licenser. That this is care or love of them, we can not pretend,
whenas in those popish places where the laity are most hated and
despised the same strictness is used over them. Wisdom we can not
call it, because it stops but one breach of license, nor that neither;
whenas those corruptions which it seeks to prevent, break in faster
at other doors which can not be shut.

And in conclusion it reflects to the disrepute of our ministers also,
of whose labors we should hope better, and of the proficiency which
their flock reaps by them, than that after all this light of the Gospel
which is, and is to be, and all this continual preaching, they should
be still frequented with such an unprincipled, unedified, and laick"
rabble, as that the whiff of every new pamphlet should stagger them
out of their catechism, and Christian walking. This may have much
reason to discourage the ministers when such a low conceit is had
of all their exhortations, and the benefiting of their hearers, as that
they are not thought fit to be turned loose to three sheets of paper
without a licenser, that all the sermons, all the lectures preached,
" Distrustin);. '^ Suspect. " Ignorant.

AREOPAGITICA 21 5

printed, vented in such numbers, and such volumes, as have now
well-nigh made all other books unsalable, should not be armor
enough against one single enchiridion^* without the castle St.
Angela'^ of an Imprimatur.

And lest some should persuade ye, Lord and Commons, that these
arguments of learned men's discouragement at this your order, are
mere flourishes, and not real, I could recount what I have seen and
heard in other countries, where this kind of inquisition tyrannizes;
when I have sat among their learned men, for that honor I had,
and been counted happy to be born in such a place of Philosophic
freedom, as they supjxjsed England was, while themselves did
nothing but bemoan the servile condition into which learning
amongst them was brought; that this was it which had damped the
glory of Italian wits; that nothing had been there written now these
many years but flattery and fustian. There it was that I found and
visited the famous Galileo grown old, a prisoner to the Inquisition,
for thinking in astronomy, otherwise than the Franciscan and Domi-
nican licensers thought. And though I knew that England then was
groaning loudest under the prelatical yoke, nevertheless I took it
as a pledge of future happiness, that other nations were so persuaded
of her liberty. Yet was it beyond my hope that those worthies were
then breathing in her air, who should be her leaders to such a deliv-
erance, as shall never be forgotten by any revolution of time that
this world hath to finish. When that was once begun, it was as little
in my fear, that what words of complaint I heard among learned
men of other parts uttered against the Inquisition, the same I should
hear by as learned men at home uttered in time of Parliament
against an order of licensing; and that so generally, that when I dis-
closed myself a companion of their discontent, I might say, if with-
out envy, that he" whom an honest queestorship had endeared to the
Sicilians, was not more by them importuned against Verres, than the
favorable opinion which I had among many who honor ye, and are
known and respected by ye, loaded me with entreaties and persua-
sions, that I would not despair to lay together that which just reason
should bring into my mind, toward the removel of an undeserved

** A pun on the two meanings of dagger and hand-book.
" The Pope's fortress. " Cicero.

2l6 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

thraldom upon learning. That this is not therefore the disburden-
ing of a particular fancy, but the common grievance of all those who
had prepared their minds and studies above the vulgar pitch to ad-
vance truth in others, and from others to entertain it, thus much may
satisfy. And in their name I shall for neither friend nor foe conceal
what the general murmur is; that if it come to inquisitioning again,
and licensing, and that we are so timorous of ourselves, and so sus-
picious of all men, as to fear each book, and the shaking of every
leaf, before we know what the contents are, if some who but of late
were little better than silenced from preaching, shall come now to
silence us from reading, except what they please, it can not be guessed
what is intended by some but a second tyranny over learning: and
will soon put it out of controversy that bishops and presbyters are
the same to us both name and thing. That those evils of prelacy
which before from five or six and twenty sees were distributively
charged upon the whole people, will now light wholly upon learn-
ing, is not obscure to us: whereas now the pastor of a small unlearned
parish, on the sudden shall be exalted archbishop over a large diocese
of books, and yet not remove, but keep his other cure too, a mystical
pluralist. He who but of late cried down the sole ordination of every
novice bachelor of art, and denied sole jurisdiction over the simplest
parishioner, shall now at home in his private chair assume both these
over worthiest and most excellent books and ablest authors that write
them. This is not, ye covenants and protestations that we have made,
this is not to put down prelacy, this is but to chop" an episcopacy,
this is but to translate the palace Metropolitan from one kind of
dominion into another, this is but an old canonical sleight" of
commuting our penance." To startle thus betimes at a mere un-
licensed pamphlet will after a while be afraid of every conventicle,"
and a while after will make a conventicle of every Christian meet-
ing. But I am certain that a state governed by the rules of justice
and fortitude, or a church built and founded upon the rock of faith
and true knowledge, can not be so pusillanimous. While things are
yet not constituted in religion, that freedom of writing should be re-

" Exchange. " Trick allowed by the canon law.
** Exchanging one kind of penance for another. *<* Non-conformist assembly.

AREOPAGITICA 217

Strained by a discipline imitated from the prelates, and learned by
them from the Inquisition to shut us up all again into the breast of
a licenser, must needs give cause of doubt and discouragement to all
learned and religious men.

Who can not but discern the fineness of this politic drift, and who
are the contrivers; that while bishops were to be baited" down, then
all presses might be open; it was the people's birthright and privilege
in time of Parliament, it was the breaking forth of light. But now the
bishops abrogated and voided out" of the church, as if our Reforma-
tion sought no more, but to make room for others into their seats
under another name, the episcopal arts begin to bud again, the cruse
of truth must run no more oil, liberty of printing must be enthralled
again under a prelatical commission of twenty, the privilege of the
people nullified, and which is worse, the freedom of learning must
groan again and to her old fetters; all this the Parliament yet sit-
ting. Although their own late arguments and defenses against the
prelates might remember them that this obstructing violence meets
for the most part with an event utterly opposite to the end which it
drives at: instead of suppressing sects and schisms, it raises them and
invests them with a reputation: "The punishing of wits enhances
their authority," saith the Viscount St. Albans, "and a forbidden
writing is thought to be a certain spar\ of truth that flies up in the
faces of them tvho seek, to tread it out." This order therefore may
prove a nursing mother to sects, but I shall easily show how it will
be a step-dame to truth: and first by disenabling us to the mainte-
nance of what is known already.

Well knows he who uses to consider, that our faith and knowl-
edge thrives by exercise, as well as our limbs and complexion."
Truth is compared in Scripture to a streaming fountain; if her
waters flow not in a perpetual progression, they sicken into a muddy
pool of conformity and tradition. A man may be a heretic in the
truth; and if he believe things only because his pastor says so, or
the Assembly so determines, without knowing other reason, though
his belief be true, yet the very truth he holds, becomes his heresy.
There is not any burden that some would gladder post off to another,
"Worried (as by dogs). •'Abolished. •'Constitution.

2l8 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

than the charge and care of their religion. There be, who knows not
that there be of Protestants and professors" who live and die in as
errant and implicit" faith, as any lay Papist or Loretto." A wealthy
man addicted to his pleasure and to his profits, finds religion to be
a traffic so entangled, and of so many piddling" accounts, that of all
mysteries" he can not skill** to keep a stock going upon that trade.
What should he do? fain he would have the name to be religious,
fain he would bear up with his neighbors in that. What does he
therefore, but resolves to give over toiling, and to find himself out
some factor,"" to whose care and credit he may commit the whole
managing of his religious affairs; some divine of note and estima-
tion that must be. To him he adheres, resigns the whole warehouse
of his religion, with all the locks and keys into his custody; and in-
deed makes the very person of that man his religion; esteems his
associating with him a sufficient evidence and commendatory of his
own piety. So that a man may say his religion is now no more
within himself, but is become an individual"" movable, and goes
and comes near him, according as that good man frequents the house.
He entertains him, gives him gifts, feasts him, lodges him; his
religion comes home at night, prays, is liberally supped, and sumptu-
ously laid to sleep, rises, is saluted, and after the malmsey,'" or some
well spiced bruage,"" and better breakfasted than he whose morning
appetite would have gladly fed on green figs between Bethany and
Jerusalem, his religion walks abroad at eight, and leaves his kind
entertainer in the shop trading all day without his religion.

Another sort there be who when they hear that all things shall be
ordered, all things regulated and settled; nothing written but what
passes through the custom-house of certain publicans"** that have the
tunaging and the poundaging'"' of all free spoken truth, will
straight give themselves up into your hands, make them and cut
them out what religion ye please; there be delights, there be recre-
ations and jolly pastimes that will fetch the day about from sun to
sun, and rock the tedious year as in a delightful dream. What"*

** Puritans. " Taken on trust. " A famous place of pilRrimage in central
Italy. "Petty. "Trades. »» Manage. >«> Agent. '"'Separable.
"" The morning draft of wine. "" Ale, or other drink. '"* Tax-collectors.
*" A r^ereoce to the illegal tax levied by Charles I. "* Why.

AREOPAGITICA 219

need they torture their heads with that which others have taken so
strictly, and so unaherably into their own purveying? These are the
fruits which a dull ease and cessation of our knowledge will bring
forth among the people. How goodly, and how to be wished were
such an obedient unanimity as this, what a fine conformity would it
starch us all into? Doubdess a staunch and solid piece of framework,
as any January could freeze together.

Nor much better will be the consequence even among the clergy
themselves; it is no new thing never heard of before, for a parochial
minister, who has his reward, and is at his Hercules pillars"" in a
warm benefice, to be easily inclinable, if he have nothing else that
may rouse up his studies, to finish his circuit'"* in an English con-
cordance and a topic folio/"^ the gatherings and savings of a sober
graduateship, a Harmony"" and a Catena,"^ treading the constant
round of certain common doctrinal heads, attended with their uses,
motives, marks and means, out of which as out of an alphabet or sol
fa by forming and transforming, joining and disjoining variously
a little book-craft, and two hours meditation might furnish him un-
speakably to the performance of more than a weekly charge of ser-
moning: not to reckon up the infinite helps of interlinearies,'" brevi-
aries,'" synopses,'^* and other loitering gear."* But as for the multi-
tude of sermons ready printed and piled up, on every text that is
not difficult, our London trading St. Thomas in his vestry, and add
to boot St. Martin and St. Hugh, have not within their hallowed
limits more vendible ware of all sorts ready made:'" so that penury
he never need fear of pulpit provision, having where so plenteously
to refresh his magazine. But if his rear and flanks be not impaled,"*
if his back door be not secured by the rigid licenser, but that a bold
book may now and then issue forth, and give the assault to some
of his old collections in their trenches, it will concern him then to
keep waking, to stand in watch, to set good guards and sentinels
about his received opinions, to walk the round and counter-round

'"^ Limit of his ambition, as the Straits of Gibraltar were the limits of the ancient
world. ""/. e., of studies. ""Commonplace book. ""E. g., of the Gospels.
■"Chain or list of authorities. "^Translations. "' Abrid);ments. "* Lazy
man's apparatus. "' "/. e., our largest and busiest marts are as well stocked with
(crmons as with any other ware whatever." — Hales. "' Palisaded.

220 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

with his fellow inspectors, fearing lest any of his flock be seduced,
who also then would be better instructed, better exercised and dis-
ciplined. And God send that the fear of this diligence which must
then be used, do not make us affect the laziness of a licensing church.

For if we be sure we are in the right, and do not hold the truth
guiltily, which becomes not, if we ourselves condemn not our own
weak and frivolous teaching, and the people for an untaught and
irreligious gadding rout, what can be more fair, than when a man
judicious, learned, and of a conscience, for aught we know, as good
as theirs that taught us what we know, shall not privily from house
to house, which is more dangerous, but openly by writing publish to
the world what his opinion is, what his reasons, and wherefore that
which is now thought can not be sound. Christ urged it as where-
with to justify himself, that he preached in public; yet writing is
more public than preaching; and more easy to refutation, if need be,
there being so many whose business and profession merely it is, to
be the champions of truth; which if they neglect, what can be
imputed but their sloth, or inability?

Thus much we are hindered and disinured'" by this course of
licensing toward the true knowledge of what we seem to know. For
how much it hurts and hinders the licensers themselves in the calling
of their ministry, more than any secular employment, if they will
discharge that office as they ought, so that of necessity they must
neglect either the one duty or the other, I insist not, because it is a
particular, but leave it to their own conscience, how they will decide
it there.

There is yet behind of what I purposed to lay open, the incredible
loss, and detriment that this plot of licensing puts us to, more than
if some enemy at sea should stop up all our havens and ports, and
creeks, it hinders and retards the importation of our richest mer-
chandise, truth; nay it was first established and put into practise by
antichristian malice and mystery'" on set purpose to extinguish, if
it were possible, the light of Reformation, and to settle falsehood;
litde differing from that policy wherewith the Turk upholds his
Alcoran, by the prohibition of printing. 'Tis not denied, but gladly
confessed, we are to send our thanks and vows to heaven, louder
'"Put out of practise. '"Trickery.

AREOPAGITICA 221

than most of nations, for that great measure of truth which we enjoy,
especially in those main points between us and the pope, with his ap-
purtenances the prelates: but he who thinks we are to pitch our tent
here, and have attained the utmost prospect of reformation, that the
mortal glass wherein we contemplate, can show us, till we come to
beatific vision, that man by this very opinion declares, that he is yet
far short of truth.

Truth indeed came once into the world with her divine master,
and was a perfect shape most glorious to look on: but when he
ascended, and his apostles after him were laid asleep, then straight
arose a wicked race of deceivers, who as that story goes of the Egyp-
tian Typhon with his conspirators, how they dealt with the good
Osiris, took the virgin Truth, hewed her lovely form into a thou-
sand pieces, and scattered them to the four winds. From that time
ever since, the sad friends of Truth, such as dare appear, imitating
the careful search that Isis made for the mangled body of Osiris,
went up and down gathering up limb by limb still as they could find
them. We have not yet found them all. Lords and Commons, nor
ever shall do, till her Master's second coming; he shall bring together
every joint and member, and shall mold them into an immortal
feature of loveliness and perfection. Suffer not these licensing pro-
hibitions to stand at every place of opportunity forbidding and dis-
turbing them that continue seeking, that continue to do our obse-
quies to the torn body of our martyred saint. We boast our light;
but if we look not wisely on the sun itself, it smites us into darkness.
Who can discern those planets that are oft Combust,"^ and those
stars of brightest magnitude that rise and set with the sun, until
the opposite motion of their orbs bring them to such a place in the
firmament, where they may be seen evening or morning. The light
which we have gained, was given us, not to be ever staring on, but
by it to discover onward things more remote from our knowledge.
It is not the unfrocking of a priest, the unmitering of a bishop, and
the removing him from off the Presbyterian shoulders that will make
us a happy nation, no, if other things as great in the church, and in
the rule of life both economical and political be not looked into and
reformed, we have looked so long upon the blaze that Zuinglius and
"» Within iVi' oi the sun.

222 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

Calvin hath beaconed up to us, that we are stark blind. There be
who perpetually complain of schisms and sects, and make it such a
calamity that any man dissents from their maxims. 'Tis their own
pride and ignorance which causes the disturbing, who neither will
hear with meekness, nor can convince, yet all must be suppressed
which is not found in their Syntagma."" They are the troublers,
they are the dividers of unity, who neglect and permit not others to
unite those dissevered pieces which are yet wanting to the body of
Truth. To be still searching what we know not, by what we know,
still closing up truth to truth as we find it (for all her body is homo-
geneal"^ and proportional) this is the golden rule in theology as
well as in arithmetic, and makes up the best harmony in a church;
not the forced and outward union of cold, and neutral, and inwardly
divided minds.

Lords and Commons of England, consider what nation it is
whereof ye are, and whereof ye are the governors: a nation not slow
and dull, but of a quick, ingenious, and piercing spirit, acute to in-
vent, subtle and sinewy to discourse, not beneath the reach of any
point the highest that human capacity can soar to. Therefore the
studies of learning in her deepest sciences have been so ancient, and so
eminent among us, that writers of good antiquity, and ablest judg-
ment have been persuaded that even the school of Pythagoras, and
the Persian wisdom took beginning from the old philosophy of this
island. And that wise and civil'^' Roman, Julius Agricola, who gov-
erned once here for Ccesar, preferred the natural wits of Britain,
before the labored studies of the French. Nor is it for nothing that
the grave and frugal Transilvanian sends out yearly from as far as
the mountainous borders of Russia, and beyond the Hercynian'"
wilderness, not their youth, but their staid men, to learn our lan-
guage, and our theologic arts. Yet that which is above all this, the
favor and the love of heaven we have great argument to think in a
peculiar manner propitious and propending'" toward us. Why else
was this nation chosen before any other, that out of her as out of
Sion should be proclaimed and sounded forth the first tidings and
trumpet of Reformation to all Europe. And had it not been the

'^'' Summary of doctrine. '" All made up of truth. "' Cultivated.
123 Used of the German forests. '** Inclining.

AREOPAGITICA 223

obstinate perverseness of our prelates against the divine and ad-
mirable spirit of Wyclif, to suppress him as a schismatic and inno-
vator, perhaps neither the Bohemian Huss and Jerome, no nor the
name of Luther, or of Calvin had been ever known: the glory of
reforming all our neighbors had been completely ours. But now,
as our obdurate clergy have with violence demeaned'" the matter,
we are become hitherto the latest and the backwardest scholars, of
whom God offered to have made us the teachers. Now once again
by all concurrence of signs, and by the general instinct of holy and
devout men, as they daily and solemnly express their thoughts, God
is decreeing to begin some new and great f)eriod in his Church,
even to the reforming of Reformation itself: what does he then but
reveal Himself to his servants, and as his manner is, first to his Eng-
lishmen; I say as his manner is, first to us, though we mark not the
method of his counsels, and are unworthy. Behold now this vast
city; a city of refuge, the mansion house of liberty, encompassed
and surrounded with his protection; the shop of war hath not there
more anvils and hammers waking, to fashion out the plates and in-
struments of armed justice in defense of beleaguered truth, than
there be pens and heads there, sitting by their studious lamps,
musing, searching, revolving new notions and ideas wherewith to
present, as with their homage and their fealty the approaching
Reformation: others as fast reading, trying all things, assenting to
the force of reason and convincement. What could a man require
more from a nation so pliant and so prone to seek after knowledge.
What wants there to such a towardly and pregnant soil, but wise and
faithful laborers, to make a knowing people, a nation of prophets,
of sages, and of worthies. We reckon more than five months yet to
harvest; there need not be five weeks, had we but eyes to lift up,
the fields are white already. Where there is much desire to learn,
there of necessity will be much arguing, much writing, many opin-
ions; for opinion in good men is but knowledge in the making.
Under these fantastic'" terrors of sect and schism, we wrong the
earnest and zealous thirst after knowledge and understanding which
God hath stirred up in this city. What some lament of, we rather
should rejoice at, should rather praise this pious forwardness among
'" Conducted. '" Imaginary.

224 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

men, to reassume the ill deputed care of their religion into their
own hands again. A little generous prudence, a little forbearance of
one another, and some grain of charity might win all these diligences
to join, and unite in one general and brotherly search after truth;
could we but forego this prelatical tradition of crowding free con-
sciences and Christian liberties into canons and precepts of men. I
doubt not, if some great and worthy stranger should come among
us, wise to discern the mold and temper of a people, and how to gov-
ern it, observing the high hopes and aims, the diligent alacrity of
our extended'" thoughts and reasonings in the persuance of truth
and freedom, but that he would cry out as Pyrrhus did, admiring the
Roman docility and courage, if such were my Epirots, I would not
despair the greatest design that could be attempted to make a church
or kingdom happy. Yet these are the men cried out against for
schismatics and sectarians; as if, while the temple of the Lord was
building, some cutting, some squaring the marble, others hewing the
cedars, there should be a sort of irrational men who could not con-
sider there must be many schisms and many dissections made in the
quarry and in the timber, ere the house of God can be built. And
when every stone is laid artfully together, it can not be united into
a continuity, it can but be contiguous in this world; neither can every
piece of the building be of one form; nay rather the perfection con-
sists in this, that out of many moderate varieties and brotherly dis-
similitudes that are not vastly disproportional arises the goodly and
the graceful symmetry that commends the whole pile and structure.
Let us therefore be more considerate builders, more wise in spiritual
architecture, when great reformation is expected. For now the time
seems come, wherein Moses the great prophet may sit in heaven
rejoicing to see that memorable and glorious wish of his fulfilled,
when not only our seventy elders, but all the Lord's people are be-
come prophets. No marvel then though some men, and some good
men too perhaps, but young in goodness, as Joshua then was, envy
them. They fret, and out of their own weakness are in agony, lest
those divisions and subdivisions will undo us. The adversary again
applauds, and waits the hour, when they have branched themselves
out, saith he, small enough into parties and partitions, than will be

'" Advanced.

AREOPAGITICA 225

our time. Fool! he sees not the firm root, out of which we all grow,
though into branches: nor will beware until he sees our small divided
maniples'" cutting through at every angle of his ill united and un-
wieldy brigade. And that we are to hope better of all these supposed
sects and schisms, and that we shall not need that solicitude honest
perhaps though over timorous of them that vex in his behalf, but
shall laugh in the end, at those malicious applauders of our differ-
ences, I have these reasons to persuade me.

First when a city shall be as it were besieged and blocked about,
her navigable river infested, inroads and incursions round, defiance
and batde oft rumored to be marching up even to her walls, and
suburb trenches, that then the people, or the greater part, more than
at other times, wholly taken up with the study of highest and most
important matters to be reformed, should be disputing, reasoning,
reading, inventing, discoursing, even to a rarity,"* and admiration,
things not before discoursed or written of, argues first a singular
good will, contentedness and confidence in your prudent foresight,
and safe government. Lords and Commons; and from thence de-
rives itself"" to a gallant bravery and well grounded contempt of
their enemies, as if there were no small number of as great spirits
among us, as his was, who when Rome was nigh besieged by Han-
nibal being in the city, bought that piece of ground at no cheap rate,
whereon Hannibal himself encamped his own regiment. Next it is
a lively and cheerful presage of our happy success and victory. For
as in a body, when the blood is fresh, the spirits pure and vigorous,
not only to vital, but to rational faculties, and those in the acutest,
and the pertest'" operations of wit and subdety, it argues in what
good plight and constitution the body is, so when the cheerfulness
of the people is so sprightly up, as that it has, not only wherewith
to guard well its own freedom and safety, but to spare, and to bestow
upon the solidest and sublimest points of controversy, and new in-
vention, it betoken us not degenerated, nor drooping to a fatal
decay, but casting off the old and wrinkled skin of corruption to
oudive these pangs and wax young again, entering the glorious ways
of truth and prosperous virtue destined to become great and honor-
able in these latter ages. Methinks I see in my mind a noble and
•*• Companies. '*• Rare degree. '*> Flows on. '" Sprightliest.

226 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

puissant nation rousing herself like a strong man after sleep, and
shaking her invincible locks: Methinks I see her as an eagle muing'"
her mighty youth, and kindling her undazzled eyes at the full mid-
day beam; purging and unsealing her long abused sight at the
fountain itself of heavenly radiance, while the whole noise'" of
timorous and flocking birds, with those also that love the twilight,
flutter about, amazed at what she means, and in their envious gabble
would prognosticate a year of sects and schisms.

What should ye do then, should ye suppress all this flowery crop
of knowledge and new light sprung up and yet springing daily in
this city, should ye set an oligarchy of twenty ingrossers'" over it,
to bring a famine upon our minds again, when we shall know noth-
ing but what is measured to us by their bushel? Believe it. Lords
and Commons, they who counsel ye to such a suppressing, do as
good as bid ye suppress yourselves; and I will soon show how. If
it be desired to know the immediate cause of all this free writing
and free speaking, there can not be assigned a truer than your own
mild, and free, and human government: it is the liberty. Lords and
Commons, which your own valorous and happy counsels have pur-
chased us, liberty which is the nurse of all great wits; this is that
which hath rarified and enlightened our spirits like the influence of
heaven; this is that which hath enfranchised, enlarged and lifted up
our apprehensions degrees above themselves. Ye can not make us
now less capable, less knowing, less eagerly pursuing of the truth, un-
less ye first make yourselves, that made us so, less the lovers,
less the founders of our true liberty. We can grow ignorant again,
brutish, formal, and slavish, as ye found us; but ye then must first
become that which ye can not be, oppressive, arbitrary, and tyran-
nous, as they were from whom ye have freed us. That our hearts
are now more capacious, our thoughts more erected to the search
and expectation of great and exact things, is the issue of your own
virtue propagated in us; ye can not suppress that unless ye reinforce
an abrogated and merciless law, that fathers may despatch at will
their own children. And who shall then stick closest to ye, and ex-
cite others? not he who takes up arms for cote and conduct,'" and his

'^Renewing (by moulting). '** Noisy band. '"Monopolists.
*"/. e., to resist illegal taxation for clothing and conveying troops.

AREOPAGITICA 227

four nobles of Danegelt.'" Although I dispraise not the defense of
just immunities, yet love my peace better, if that were all. Give me
the liberty to know, to utter, and to argue freely according to
conscience, above all liberties.

What would be best advised then, if it be found so hurtful and
so unequal to suppress opinions for the newness, or the unsuitable-
ness to a customary acceptance, will not be my task to say; I only
shall repeat what I have learned from one of your own honorable
number, a right noble and pious lord, who had he not sacrificed his
life and fortunes to the church and commonwealth, we had not
now missed and bewailed a worthy and undoubted patron of this
argument. Ye know him I am sure; yet I for honor's sake, and may it
be eternal to him, shall name him, the Lord Brook,. He writing of
episcopacy, and by the way treating of sects and schisms, left ye his
vote, or rather now the last words of his dying charge, which I
know will ever be of dear and honored regard with ye, so full of
meekness and breathing charity, that next to his last testament, who
bequeathed love and peace to his disciples, I can not call to mind
where I have read or heard words more mild and peaceful. He
there exhorts us to hear with patience and humility those, however
they be miscalled, that desire to live purely, in such a use of God's
ordinances, as the best guidance of their conscience gives them, and
to tolerate them, though in some disconformity to ourselves. The
book itself will tell us more at large being published to the world,
and dedicated to the Parliament by him who both for his life and
for his death deserves, that what advice he left be not laid by with-
out perusal.

And now the time in special is, by privilege to write and speak
what may help to the further discussion of matters in agitation.
The temple of Janus with his two controversial faces might now
not unsignificantly be set open.'" And though all the winds of doc-
trine were let loose to play upon the earth, so truth be in the field,
we do injuriously by licensing and prohibiting to misdoubt her
strength. Let her and falsehood grapple; who ever knew truth put
to the worse, in a free and open encounter. Her confuting is the

'"/. e., ship-money. The references here are to those who took up arms in the
civil war rather than submit to the illegal taxes of Charles I.
'" Indicating a time of war.

228 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

best and surest suppressing. He who hears what praying there is
for light and clearer knowledge to be sent down among us, would
think of other matters to be constituted beyond the discipline of
Geneva,'" framed and fabricated already to our hands. Yet when
the new light which we beg for shines in upon us, there be who
envy, and oppose, if it come not first in at their casements. What a
collusion is this, whenas we are exhorted by the wise man to use
diligence, to see\ for wisdom as for hidden treasures early and late,
that another order shall enjoin us to know nothing but by statute.
When a man hath been laboring the hardest labor in the deep mines
of knowledge, hath furnished out his findings in all their equipage,
drawn forth his reasons as it were a battle ranged, scattered and de-
feated all objections in his way, calls out his adversary into the plain,
offers him the advantage of wind and sun, if he please; only that
he may try the matter by dint of argument, for his opponents then
to skulk, to lay ambushments, to keep a narrow bridge of licensing
where the challenger should pass, though it be valor enough in
soldiership, is but weakness and cowardice in the wars of truth.
For who knows not that truth is strong next to the Almighty; she
needs no policies, no stratagems, no licensings to make her victori-
ous, those are the shifts and the defenses that error uses against her
power: give her but room, and do not bind her when she sleeps, for
then she speaks not true, as the old Proteus did, who spake oracles
only when he was caught and bound, but then rather she turns
herself into all shapes, except her own, and perhaps tunes her voice
according to the time, as Micaiah did before Ahab, until she be
adjured into her own likeness. Yet is it not impossible that she may
have more shapes than one. What else is all that rank of things
indifferent, wherein truth may be on this side, or on the other,
without being unlike herself. What but a vain shadow else is the
abolition of those ordinances, that handwriting nailed to the cross,
what great purchase is this Christian liberty which Paul so often
boasts of. His doctrine is, that he who eats or eats not, regards a
day, or regards it not, may do either to the Lord. How many other
things might be tolerated in peace, and left to conscience, had we
but charity, and were it not the chief stronghold of our hypocrisy

"• The Presbyterian system.

AREOPAGITICA 229

to be ever judging one another. I fear yet this iron yoke of outward
conformity hath left a slavish print upon our necks; the ghost of a
linen decency"' yet haunts us. We stumble and are impatient at
the least dividing of one visible congregation from another, though
it be not in fundamentals; and through our forwardness to suppress,
and our backwardness to recover any enthralled piece of truth out of
the grip of custom, we care not to keep truth separated from truth,
which is the fiercest rent and disunion of all. We do not see that
while we still affect by all means a rigid external formality, we may
as soon fall again into a gross conforming stupidity, a stark and dead
congealment of wood and hay and stubble forced and frozen to-
gether, which is more to the sudden degenerating of a church than
many subdic/totomies^*" of petty schisms. Not that I can think well
of every light separation, or that all in a church is to be expected gold
and silver and precious stones: it is not possible for man to sever the
wheat from the tares, the good fish from the other fry; that must be
the angels' ministry at the end of mortal things. Yet if all can not be
of one mind, as who looks they should be? this doubtless is more
wholesome, more prudent, and more Christian that many be tol-
erated, rather than all compelled. I mean not tolerated popery, and
open superstition, which as it extirpates all religions and civil su-
premacies, so itself should be extirpated, provided first that all
charitable and compassionate means be used to win and regain the
weak and misled: that also which is impious or evil absolutely either
against faith or manners no law can possibly permit, that intends
not to unlaw itself: but those neighboring differences, or rather
indifferences, are what I speak of, whether in some point of doc-
trine or of discipline, which though they may be many, yet need
not interrupt the unity of spirit, if we could but find among us the
bond of peace. In the meanwhile if any one would write, and bring
his helpful hand to the slow-moving reformation we labor under, if
truth have spoken to him before others, or but seemed at least to
speak, who hath so be-Jesuited'" us that we should trouble that man
with asking license to do so worthy a deed? and not consider this,
that if it come to prohibiting, there is not aught more likely to be
prohibited than truth itself; whose first appearance to our eyes
•*»Pric$dy vestments. ""Subdivisions. **iMade Jesuits oL

230 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

bleared and dimmed with prejudice and custom, is more unsighdy
and unplausible than many errors, even as the person is of many a
great man sUght and contemptible to see to. And what do they tell
us vainly of new opinions, when this very opinion of theirs, that
none must be heard, but whom they like, is the worst and newest
opinion of all others; and is the chief cause why sects and schisms
do so much abound, and true knowledge is kept at distance from
us; besides yet a greater danger which is in it. For when God shakes
a kingdom with strong and healthful commotions to a general
reforming, 'tis not untrue that many sectarians and false teachers
are then busiest in seducing; but yet more true it is, that God then
raises to his own work men of rare abilities, and more than common
industry, not only to look back and revise what hath been taught
heretofore, but to gain further and go on, some new enlightened
steps in the discovery of truth. For such is the order of God's en-
lightening his church, to dispense and deal out by degrees his beam,
so as our earthly eyes may best sustain it. Neither is God appointed
and confined, where and out of what place these his chosen shall be
first heard to speak; for he sees not as man sees, chooses not as man
chooses, lest we should devote ourselves again to set places, and
assemblies, and outward callings of men; planting our faith one
while in the old convocation house,'" and another while in the
chaf)el at Westminster;'** when all the faith and religion that shall
be there canonized,'" is not sufficient without plain convincement,
and the charity of patient instruction to supple the least bruise of
conscience, to edify the meanest Christian, who desires to walk in
the spirit, and not in the letter of human trust, for all the number
of voices that can be there made, no though Harry the Seventh
himself there, with all his liege tombs'*' about him, should lend
them voices from the dead, to swell their number. And if the men
be erroneous who appear to be the leading schismatics, what with-
holds us but our sloth, our self-will, and distrust in the right cause,
that we do not give them gentle meetings and gentle dismissions,
that we debate not and examine the matter thoroughly with liberal
and frequent audience; if not for their sakes, yet for our own? see-
ing no man who hath tasted learning, but will confess the many ways

•** where the Episcopal clergy met to legislate. '*' Where the Presbyterian divines
drew up their Confession. '** Put into canons or rules.
'** In Westminster Abbey.

AREOPAGITICA 23 1

of profiting by those who not contented with stale receipts are able
to manage, and set forth new positions to the world. And were
they but as the dust and cinders of our feet, so long as in that notion
they may serve to polish and brighten the armor of truth, even for
that respect they were not utterly to be cast away. But if they be of
those whom God hath fitted for the special use of these times with
eminent and ample gifts, and those perhaps neither among the
priests, nor among the Pharisees, and we in the haste of a precipitant
zeal shall make no distinction, but resolve to stop their mouths,
because we fear they come with new and dangerous opinions, as we
commonly forejudge them ere we understand them, no less than
woe to us, while thinking thus to defend the gospel, we are found
the persecutors.

There have been not a few since the beginning of this Parliament,
both of the presbytery and others who by their unlicensed books to
the contempt of an Imprimatur first broke that triple ice clung about
our hearts, and taught the people to see day: I hope that none of
those were the persuaders to renew upon us this bondage which they
themselves have wrought so much good by condemning. But if
neither the check that Moses gave to young Joshua, nor the counter-
mand which our Saviour gave to young ]ohn, who was so ready to
prohibit those whom he thought unlicensed, be not enough to ad-
monish our elders how unacceptable to God their testy mood of
prohibiting is, if neither their own remembrance what evil hath
abounded in the church by this let''" of licensing, and what good they
themselves have begun by transgressing it, be not enough, but that
they will persuade, and execute the most Dominican part of the
Inquisition over us, and are already with one foot in the stirrup so
active at suppressing, it would be no unequal distribution in the first
place, to suppress the suppressors themselves; whom the change of
their condition hath puffed up, more than their late experience of
harder times hath made wise.

And as for regulating the press, let no man think to have the
honor of advising ye better than yourselves have done in that order
published next before this, that no book be printed, unless the
printer's and the author's name, or at least the printer's be regis-
tered. Those which otherwise come forth, if they be found mis-

'*• Hindrance.

232 A SPEECH OF JOHN MILTON

chievous and libelous, the fire and the executioner will be the time-
liest and the most effectual remedy, that man's prevention can use.
For this authentic Spanish policy of licensing books, if I have said
aught will prove the most unlicensed book itself within a short
while; and was the immediate image of a star-chamber decree to
that purpose made in those very times when that court did the rest
of those her pious works, for which she is now fallen from the stars
with Lucifer. Whereby you may guess what kind of state prudence,
what love of the people, what care of religion, or good manners there
was at the contriving although with singular hypocrisy it pretended
to bind books to their good behavior. And how it got the upper hand
of your precedent order so well constituted before, if we may bdieve
those men whose profession gives them cause to inquire most, it
may be doubted there was in it the fraud of some old patentees and
monopolizers in the trade of book-selling; who under pretence of
the poor in their company not to be defrauded, and the just retaining
of each man his several copy, which God forbid should be gainsaid,
brought divers glozing colors'" to the house, which were indeed
but colors, and serving to no end except it be to exercise a superi-
ority over their neighbors, men who do not therefore labor in an
honest profession to which learning is indebted, that they should be
made other men's vassals. Another end is thought was aimed at by
some of them in procuring by petition this order, that having power
in their hands, malignant'*" books might the easier escape abroad,
as the event shows. But of these sophisms and elenchs of mer-
chandise I skill not:'" This I know, that errors in a good govern-
ment and in a bad are equally almost incident;'" for what magistrate
may not be misinformed, and much the sooner, if liberty of printing
be reduced into the power of a few, but to redress willingly and
speedily what hath been erred, and in highest authority to esteem a
plain advertisement more than others have done a sumptuous bribe,
is a virtue (honored Lords and Commons), answerable to'" your
highest actions, and whereof none can participate but greatest and
wisest men.

'*' Plausible pretexts. '** Royalist. "'I have no knowlcdRe of these tricks of
trade and the exposure of them. "* Liable to occur. '" Consistent with.

MILTON'S
TRACTATE ON EDUCATION

FROM THE EDITION OF 1673

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Mr. Samuel Hartlib, to whom the following letter was addressed,
was the son of a Polish merchant of German descent and an English
mother. He lived in London during a large part of his life, and was
actively interested in a vast number of educational and philanthropic
schemes. It appears from the "Tractate" itself that he had requested
Milton to put into writing some of the ideas on the education of a
gendeman which they had from time to time touched on in conversation;
and the present treatise is the result.

Beginning with the definition of a "complete and generous education"
as one "which fits a man to perform justly, skilfully, and magnan-
imously all the offices, both public and private, of peace and war,"
Milton proceeds to lay down a program which is likely to startle the
modern reader. The stress on Latin and Greek at the beginning is easily
accounted for by the fact that in Milton's day these tongues were the
only keys to the storehouse of learning; but the casual way in which
Chaldean and Syrian are added to Hebrew seems to indicate that the
author tended to overestimate the ease with which the ordinary youth
acquires languages. But the mark of the system here expounded is that
language is to be merely a means, not an end; that things and not words
constitute the elements of education. Thus the Greek and Latin authors
prescribed are chosen for the value of their subject matter, and provision
is made for a comprehensive knowledge of the science of the time, as
well as for training in religion and morals. The suggestions made for
exercise have the same practical and utilitarian tendency, fencing, wres-
tling, and horsemanship being prescribed with a view to soldiership. Nor
are the arts neglected, for p>c>etry and music are given their place both as
recreation and as influences on character.

This is indeed, as Milton confesses, "not a bow for every man to
shoot in"; but as an ideal it is rich in both stimulus and practical
suggestion.

OF EDUCATION

To Master Samuel Hartlib.
Mr. Hartlib,

I AM long since persuaded, that to say, or do aught worth mem-
ory and imitation, no purpose or respect' should sooner move
us, than simply the love of God, and of mankind. Neverthe-
less to write now the reforming of education, though it be one of
the greatest and noblest designs that can be thought on, and for the
want whereof this nation perishes, I had not yet at this time been
induced, but by your earnest entreaties, and serious conjurements;'
as having my mind for the present half diverted in the pursuance of
some other assertions,' the knowledge and the use of which, can not
but be a great furtherance both to the enlargement of truth, and
honest living, with much more peace. Nor should the laws of any
private friendship have prevailed with me to divide thus, or trans-
pose* my former thoughts, but that I see those aims, those actions
which have won you with me the esteem' of a person sent hither by
some good providence from a far country to be the occasion and
the incitement of great good to this island. And, as I hear, you have
obtained the same repute with men of most approved wisdom, and
some of highest authority among us. Not to mention the learned
correspondence which you hold in foreign parts, and the extraordi-
nary pains and diligence which you have used in this matter both
here, and beyond the seas; either by the definite will of God so
ruling, or the peculiar sway of nature, which also is God's working.
Neither can I think that so reputed, and so valued as you are, you
would to the forfeit of your own discerning ability, impose upon
me am unfit and over-ponderous argument, but that the satisfaction
which you profess to have received from those incidental discourses

' Consideration. ' Appeals. ' As, e. g., unlicensed printing aind divorce.
* Chan^. ' Rcpuution.

236 TRACTATE OF JOHN MILTON

which we have wandered into, hath pressed and almost constrained
you into a persuasion, that what you require from me in this point,
I neither ought, nor can in conscience defer beyond this time both
of so much need at once, and so much opportunity to try what God
hath determined. I will not resist therefore, whatever it is either
of divine, or human obligement that you lay upon me; but will
forthwith set down in writing, as you request me, that voluntary
Idea, which hath long in silence presented itself to me, of a better
education, in extent and comprehension far more large, and yet of
time far shorter, and of attainment far more certain, than hath been
yet in practise.

Brief I shall endeavor to be; for that which I have to say, assuredly
this nation hath extreme need should be done sooner than spoken.
To tell you therefore what I have benefited herein among old re-
nowned authors, I shall spare; and to search what many modern
Januas' and Didactic^ more than ever I shall read, have projected,
my inclination leads me not. But if you can accept of these few
observations which have flowered off, and are, as it were, the bur-
nishing' of many studious and contemplative years altogether spent
in the search of religious and civil knowledge, and such as pleased
you so well in the relating, I here give you them to dispose of.

The end then of learning is to repair the ruins of our first parents
by regaining to know God aright, and out of that knowledge to love
him, to imitate him, to be like him, as we may the nearest by pos-
sessing our souls of true virtue, which being united to the heavenly
grace of faith makes up the highest perfection. But because our
understanding can not in this body found itself but on sensible*
things, nor arrive so clearly to the knowledge of God and things
invisible, as by orderly conning over the visible and inferior creature,
the same method is necessarily to be followed in all discreet teach-
ing. And seeing every nation affords not experience and tradition
enough for all kind of learning, therefore we are chiefly taught the
languages of those people who have at any time been most indus-
trious after wisdom; so that language is but the instrument convey-
ing to us things useful to be known. And though a linguist should

• Works on education by John Amos Comenius, a great educational reformer and
a friend of Hartlib's.

^ Fragments rubbed off in polishing. * Perceived by the senses.

OF EDUCATION 237

pride himself to have all the tongues that Babel cleft the world into,
yet if he have not studied the solid things in them as well as the
words and lexicons, he were nothing so much to be esteemed a
learned man, as any yoeman or tradesman competently wise in his
mother dialect only. Hence appear the many mistakes which have
made learning generally so unpleasing and so unsuccessful; first we
do amiss to spend seven or eight years merely in scraping together
so much miserable Latin and Greek, as might be learned other wise
easily and delightfully in one year. And that which casts our pro-
ficiency therein so much behind, is our time lost partly in too oft
idle vacancies' given both to schools and universities, partly in a
preposterous'" exaction, forcing the empty wits of children to com-
pose themes, verses and orations, which are the acts of ripest judg-
ment and the final work of a head filled by long reading and observ-
ing, with elegant maxims, and copious invention. These are not
matters to be wrung from poor striplings, like blood out of the nose,
or the plucking of untimely fruit: besides the ill habit which they
get of wretched barbarizing against the Latin and Greek idiom, with
their untutored Anglicisms, odious to be read, yet not to be avoided
without a well continued and judicious conversing" among pure
authors digested, which they scarce taste, whereas, if after some
preparatory grounds of speech by their certain forms got into mem-
ory, they were led to the praxis" thereof in some chosen short books
lessoned throughly to them, they might then forthwith proceed to
learn the substance of good things, and arts in due order, which
would bring the whole language quickly into their power. This I
take to be the most rational and most profitable way of learning
languages, and whereby we may best hope to give account to God
of our youth spent herein: and for the usual method of teaching arts,
I deem it to be an old error of universities not yet well recovered
from the scholastic grossness of barbarous ages, that instead of
beginning with arts most easy, and those be such as are most obvious
to the sense, they present their young unmatriculated novices at first
coming with the most intellective" abstractions of logic and meta-
physics; so that they having but newly left those grammatic flats

•Holidays. ">Lit., in inverted order. "Familiar intercourse.
"Practical application. "Intellectual.

238 TRACTATE OF JOHN MILTON

and shallows where they stuck unreasonably to learn a few words
with lamentable construction, and now on the sudden transported
under another climate to be tossed and turmoiled with their unbal-
lasted wits in fathomless and unquiet deeps of controversy, do for
the most part grow into hatred and contempt of learning, mocked
and deluded all this while with ragged notions and babblements,
while they expected worthy and delightful knowledge; till poverty
or youthful years call them importunately their several ways, and
hasten them with the sway'* of friends either to a;i ambitious and
mercenary, or ignorantly zealous divinity; some allured to the trade
of law, grounding their purposes not on the prudent and heavenly
contemplation of justice and equity which was never taught them,
but on the promising and pleasing thoughts of litigious terms, fat
contentions and flowing fees; others betake them to State affairs,
with souls so unprincipled in virtue and true generous breeding, that
flattery, and court shifts" and tyrannous aphorisms appear to them
the highest points of wisdom; instilling their barren hearts with a
conscientious slavery," if, as I rather think, it be not feigned. Others
lastly of a more delicious and airy spirit," retire themselves knowing
no better, to the enjoyments of ease and luxury, living out their days
in feast and jollity; which indeed is the wisest and the safest course
of all these, unless they were with more integrity undertaken. And
these are the fruits of misspending our prime youth at the schools
and universities as we do, either in learning mere words or such
things chiefly, as were better unlearned.

I shall detain you no longer in the demonstration of what we
should not do, but straight condua ye to a hill side where I will
point ye out the right path of a virtuous and noble education; labori-
ous indeed at the first ascent, but else so smooth, so green, so full
of goodly prospect, and melodious sounds on every side, that the harp
of Orpheui* was not more charming. I doubt not but ye shall have
more ado to drive our dullest and laziest youth, our stocks and stubs
from the infinite desire of such a happy nurture, than we have not to
hale and drag our choicest and hopefulest wits to that asinine feast
of sowthistles and brambles which is commonly set before them, as

'* Influence. '* Tricks. "A slavery which they try to believe conscientious.
" Delicate and spiritual nature. '' Which charmed even trees and stones.

OF EDUCATION 239

all the food and entertainment of their tenderest and most docible'*
age. I call therefore a complete and generous education that which
fits a man to perform justly, skilfully and magnanimously all the
offices both private and public, of peace and war. And how all this
may be done between twelve, and one and twenty, less time than
is now bestowed in pure trifling at grammar and sophistry, is to be
thus ordered.

First to find out a spacious house and ground about it fit for an
academy, and big enough to lodge a hundred and fifty persons,
whereof twenty or thereabout may be attendants, all under the gov-
ernment of one, who shall be thought of desert sufficient, and ability
either to do all, or wisely to direct, and oversee it done. This place
should be at once both school and university, not heeding a remove
to any other house of scholarship, except it be some peculiar College
of Law, or Physic, where they mean to be practitioners; but as for
those general studies which take up all our time from Lilly^ to the
commencing,*' as they term it. Master of Art, it should be absolute.
After this pattern, as many Edifices may be converted to this use,
as shall be needful in every city throughout this land, which would
tend much to the increase of learning and civility everywhere. This
number, less or more thus collected, to the convenience of a foot
company, or interchangeably two troops of cavalry, should divide
their day's work into three parts, as it lies orderly. Their studies,
their exercise, and their diet.

For the studies, first they should begin with the chief and neces-
sary rules of some good grammar, either that now used, or any
better: and while this is doing, their speech is to be fashioned to a
distinct and clear pronunciation, as near as may be to the Italian.
esfjecially in the vowels. For we Englishmen being far northerly, do
not open our mouths in the cold air, wide enough to grace a southern
tongue; but are observed by all other nations to speak exceeding close
and inward: So that to smatter Latin with an English mouth, is as
ill a hearing as Law-French. Next to make them expert in the use-
fulest points of grammar, and withal to season" them, and win them
early to the love of virtue and true labor, ere any flattering seduce-
ment, or vain principle seize them wandering, some easy and delight-

" Docile. "Lilly's "Latin Primer." "Graduation. "Imbue.

240 TRACTATE OF JOHN MILTON

ful book of education would be read to them; whereof the Greeks
have store, as Cebes^ Plutarch^* and other Socratic discourses. But
in Latin we have none of classic authority extant, except the two or
three first books of Quintilian," and some select pieces elsewhere.
But here the main skill and groundwork will be, to temper" them
such lectures and explanations upon every opportunity as may lead
and draw them in willing obedience, inflamed with the study of
learning, and the admiration of virtue; stirred up with high hopes of
living to be brave men, and worthy patriots, dear to God, and
famous to all ages. That they may despise and scorn all their child-
ish, and ill-taught qualities, to delight in manly, and liberal exer-
cises: which he who hath the art, and proper eloquence to catch them
with, what with mild and effectual persuasions, and what with the
intimation of some fear, if need be, but chiefly by his own example,
might in a short space gain them to an incredible diligence and cour-
age: infusing into their young breasts such an ingenuous and noble
ardor, as would not fail to make many of them renowned and
matchless men. At the same time, some other hour of the day, might
be taught them the rules of arithmetic, and soon after the elements
of geometry even playing, as the old manner was. After evening
repast, till bed-time their thoughts will be best taken up in the easy
grounds of religion, and the story of Scripture. The next step would
be to the authors on agriculture, Cato, Varro, and Columella, for the
matter is most easy, and if the language be difficult, so much the
better, it is not a difficulty above their years. And here will be an
occasion of inciting and enabling them hereafter to improve the
tillage of their country, to recover the bad soil, and to remedy the
waste that is made of good; for this was one of Hercules' praises.
Ere half these authors be read (which will soon be with plying"
hard, and daily) they can not choose but be masters of any ordi-
nary prose." So that it will be then seasonable for them to learn
in any modern author, the use of the globes, and all the maps; first
with the old names, and then with the new: or they might be then
capable to read any compendious method of natural philosophy.

** A disciple of Socrates, to whom was ascribed a book on the cultivation of virtue.

"Author of the famous "Lives." He lived about 100 a.d. "The Latin
rhetorician, b. 42 aj). ^ Adept. " Applying themselves. " /. e., Latin prose.

OF EDUCATION 24 1

And at the same time might be entering into the Greek tongue,
after the same manner as was before prescribed in the Latin: where-
by the difficuhies of grammar being soon overcome, all the historical
physiology of Aristotle and Theophrastus" are open before them,
and as I may say, under contribution. The like access will be to
Vitruvius^ to Seneca's natural questions," to Mela,^ Celsus,"
Pliny^ or Solinus^ And having thus passed the principles of
arithmetic, geometry, astronomy, and geography with a general
compact of physics, they may descend in mathematics to the instru-
mental science of trigonometry and from thence to fortification,
architecture, engineering, or navigation. And in natural philosophy
they may proceed leisurely from the history of meteors, minerals,
plants and living creatures as far as anatomy. Then also in course
might be read to them out of some not tedious writer the institution
of physic; that they may know the tempers,™ the humors,'' the
seasons, and how to manage a crudity;" which he who can wisely
and timely do, is not only a great physician to himself, and to his
friends, but also may at some time or other, save an army by this
frugal and expenseless means only; and not let the healthy and stout
bodies of young men rot away under him for want of this disci-
pline; which is a great pity, and no less a shame to the commander.
To set forward all these proceedings in nature and mathematics,
what hinders, but that they may procure, as often as shall be need-
ful, the helpful experiences of hunters, fowlers, fishermen, shep-
herds, gardeners, apothecaries; and in the other sciences, architects,
engineers, mariners, anatomists; who doubtless would be ready some
for reward, and some to favor such a hopeful seminary. And this
will give them such a real tincture of natural knowledge, as they
shall never forget, but daily augment with delight. Then also those
poets which are now counted most hard, will be both facile and
pleasant, Orpheus, Hesiod, Theocritus, Aratus, Nicander, Oppian,
Dionysius, and in Latin Lucretius, Manilius, and the rural part of
Virgil.

" A pupil of Aristotle's. *• On architecture. " On physics. " On geography.
" On medicine. •* On natural history. " An abridgement of Pliny.
"The temperament was supposed to be due to the predominance of one of the
four humors in the body. " Indigestion.

242 TRACTATE OF JOHN MILTON

By this time, years and good general precepts will have furnished
them more distinctly with that act of reason which in ethics is
called proairesis^ that they may with some judgment contemplate
upon moral good and evil. Then will be required a sf)ecial reenforce-
ment of constant and sound indoctrinating to set them right and
firm, instructing them more amply in the knowledge of virtue and
the hatred of vice: while their young and pliant affections are led
through all the moral works of Plato, Xenophon, Cicero, Plutarch,
Laertius^ and those Locrian remnants;*" but still to be reduced*' in
their nightward studies wherewith they close the day's work, under
the determinate*^ sentence of David or Solomon, or the evanges**
and apostolic scriptures. Being perfect in the knowledge of per-
sonal duty, they may then begin the study of economics. And either
now, or before this, they may have easily learned at any odd hour
the Italian tongue. And soon after, but with wariness and good
antidote, it would be wholesome enough to let them taste some
choice comedies, Greek, Latin, or Italian: Those tragedies also that
treat of household matters, as Trachinia:,** Alcestis*^ and the like.
The next remove must be to the study of politics; to know the
beginning, end, and reasons of political societies; that they may not
in a dangerous fit of the commonwealth be such poor, shaken, un-
certain reeds, of such a tottering conscience, as many of our great
counselors have lately shown themselves, but steadfast pillars of the
state. After this they are to dive into the ground of law and legal
justice; delivered first, and with best warrant by Moses; and as far
as human prudence can be trusted, in those extolled remains of
Grecian lawgivers, Lycurgus, Solon, Zaleucus, Charondas^ and
thence to all the Roman edicts and tables with their Justinian; and
so down to the Saxon and common laws of England, and the stat-
utes. Sundays also and every evening may be now understand-
ingly spent in the highest matters of theology, and church history
ancient and modern: and ere this time the Hebrew tongue at a set
hour might have been gained, that the Scriptures may be now read
in their own original; whereto it would be no impossibility to add

" The choice between good and evil. " Diogenes Lacrtius, who wrote a history
of philosophy. *" Ascribed to Timxus. *' Brought back. " Authoritative.

*' Gospels. ** By Sophocles. *^ By Euripides. *° Lawgivers respectively to
Sparta, Athens, the Locrians in southern luly, and certain cities in Sicily.

OF EDUCATION 243

the Chaldey" and the Syrian*^ dialect. When all these employments
are well conquered, then will the choice histories, heroic poems, and
Attic tragedies of stateliest and most regal argument, with all the
famous political orations offer themselves; which if they were not
only read; but some of them got by memory, and solemnly pro-
nounced with right accent, and grace, as might be taught, would
endow them even with the spirit and vigor of Demosthenes, or
Cicero, Euripides, or Sophocles. And now lastly will be the time to
read with them those organic" arts which enable men to discourse
and write perspicuously, elegandy, and according to the fitted style
of lofty, mean or lowly. Logic therefore so much as is useful, is to
be referred to this due place with all her well couched^" heads and
topics, until to be time to open her contracted palm into a graceful
and ornate rhetoric taught out of the rule of Plato, Aristotle, Phale-
reus, Cicero, Hermogenes, Longinus. To which poetry would be
made subsequent, or indeed rather precedent, as being less subtle
and fine, but more simple, sensuous and passionate. I mean not
here the prosody of a verse, which they could not have hit on before
among the rudiments of grammar; but that sublime art which in
Aristotle's Poetics, in Horace, and the Italian commentaries of
Castehetro, Tasso, Mazzoni, and others, teaches what the laws are
of a true epic poem, what of a dramatic, what of a lyric, what de-
corum is, which is the grand masterpiece to observe. This would
make them soon perceive what despicable creatures our common
rimers and playwriters be, and show them, what religious, what
glorious and magnificent use might be made of poetry both in di-
vine and human things. From hence and not till now will be the
right season of forming them to be able writers and composers in
every excellent matter, when they shall be thus fraught with an uni-
versal insight into things. Or whether they be to speak in Parlia-
ment or council, honor and attention would be waiting on their
lips. There would then also appear in pulpits other visages, other
gestures, and stuff otherwise wrought than what we now sit under,
ofttimes to as great a trial of our patience as any other that they
preach to us. These are the studies wherein our noble and our gentle

*' Chaldean, a language akin to Hebrew. ^ Aramaic, the language of Palestine
in the time of Christ. *' Practical. ^ Arranged.

244 TRACTATE OF JOHN MILTON

youth ought to bestow their time in a disciplinary way from twdve
to one and twenty; unless they rely more upon their ancestors dead,
than upon themselves living. In which methodical course it is so
supposed they must proceed by the steady pace of learning onward,
as at convenient times for memories' sake to retire back into the
middle ward,'' and sometimes into the rear of what they have been
taught, until they have confirmed, and solidly united the whole
body of their perfected knowledge, like the last embattling of a
Roman legion. Now will be worth the seeing what exercises and
recreations may best agree, and become these studies.

Their Exercise.

The course of study hitherto briefly described, is, what I can guess
by reading, likest to those ancient and famous schools of Pythagoras,
Plato, Isocrates, Aristotle and such others, out of which were bred
up such a number of renowned philosophers, orators, historians,
poets and princes all over Greece, Italy, and Asia, besides the flour-
ishing studies of Cyrene and Alexandria. But herein it shall exceed
them, and supply a defect as great as that which Plato noted in the
commonwealth of Sparta, whereas that city trained up their youth
most for war, and these in their Academies and Lycceum, all for
the gown," this institution of breeding which I here delineate, shall
be equally good both for p)eace and war. Therefore about an hour
and a half ere they eat at noon should be allowed them for exercise
and due rest afterward: but the time for this may be enlarged at
pleasure, according as their rising in the morning shall be early.
The exercise which I commend first, is the exact use of their weapon,
to guard and to strike safely with edge, or point; this will keep
them healthy, nimble, strong, and well in breath, is also the likeliest
means to make them grow large and tall, and to inspire them with
a gallant and fearless courage, which being tempered with season-
able lectures and precepts to them of true fortitude and patience,
will turn into a native and heroic valor, and make them hate the
cowardice of doing wrong. They must be also practised in all the
locks and grips of wrestling, wherein Englishmen were wont to
excel, as need may often be in fight to tug or grapple, and to close.

"Center. "Civil life.

OF EDUCATION 245

And this perhaps will be enough, wherein to prove and heat their
single strength. The interim of unsweating** themselves regularly,
and convenient rest before meat may both with profit and delight
be taken up in recreating and composing their travailed" spirits with
the solemn and divine harmonies of music heard or learned; either
while the skilful organist plies his grave and fancied descant, in
lofty fugues, or the whole symphony with artful and unimaginable
touches adorn and grace the well studied chords of some choice
composer, sometimes the lute, or soft organ stop waiting on elegant
voices either to religious, martial, or civil ditties; which if wise men
and prophets be not extremely out," have a great power over dis-
positions and manners, to smooth and make them gentle from rustic
harshness and distempered passions. The like also would not be
unexpedient after meat to assist and cherish Nature in her first
concoction," and send their minds back to study in good tune and
satisfaction. Where having followed it closer under vigilant eyes till
about two hours before supper, they are by a sudden alarum or
watchword, to be called out to their military motions, under sky or
covert, according to the season, as was the Roman wont: first on
foot, then as their age permits, on horseback, to all the art of cav-
alry; that having in sport, but with much exactness, and daily mus-
ter, served out the rudiments of their soldiership in all the skill of
embatding, marching, encamping, fortifying, besieging and batter-
ing, with all the helps of ancient and modern stratagems, tactics
and warlike maxims, they may as it were out of a long war come
forth renowned and perfect commanders in the service of their
country. They would not then, if they were trusted with fair and
hopeful armies, suffer them for want of just and wise discipline to
shed away from about them like sick feathers, though they never
so oft supplied: they would not suffer their empty and unrecruit-
able" colonels of twenty men in a company to quaff out," or con-
vey," into secret hoards, the wages of a delusive list, and a miserable
remnant: yet in the meanwhile to be overmastered with a score
or two of drunkards, the only soldiery left about them, or else to
comply with all rapines and violences. No certainly, if they knew

" Cooling off. ^ Tired with exercise. " Mistaken. ** Digestion.

*' Unable to enlist recruits. " Spend in drinking. '• Steal.

246 TRACTATE OF JOHN MILTON

aught of that knowledge that belongs to good men or good gover-
nors, they would not suffer these things. But to return to our own
institute, besides these constant exercises at home, there is another
opportunity of gaining experience to be won from pleasure itself
abroad; in those vernal seasons of the year, when the air is calm
and pleasant, it were an injury and suUenness against nature not to
go out, and see her riches, and partake in her rejoicing with heaven
and earth. I should not therefore be a persuader to them of studying
much then, after two or three years that they have well laid their
grounds, but to ride out in companies with prudent and staid guides,
to all the quarters of the land: learning and observing all places of
strength, all commodities"" of building and of soil, for towns and
tillage, harbors and ports for trade. Sometimes taking sea as far as
to our navy, to learn there also what they can in the practical knowl-
edge of sailing and of sea-fight. These ways would try all their pe-
culiar gifts of nature, and if there were any secret excellence among
them, would fetch it out, and give it fair opportunities to advance
itself by, which could not but mightily redound to the good of this
nation, and bring into fashion again those old admired virtues and
excellencies, with far more advantage now in this purity of Christian
knowledge. Nor shall we then need the monsieurs of Paris, to take
our hopeful youth into their slight" and prodigal custodies and send
them over back again transformed into mimics, apes, and kick-
shaws. But if they desire to see other countries at three or four
and twenty years of age, not to learn principles but to enlarge ex-
perience, and make wise observation, they will by that time be such
as shall deserve the regard and honor of all men where they pass
and the society and friendship of those in all places who are best
and most eminent. And perhaps then other nations will be glad to
visit us for their breeding, or else to imitate us in their own country.
Now lastly for their diet there can not be much to say, save only
that it would be best in the same house; for much time else would
be lost abroad, and many ill habits got; and that it should be plain,
healthful, and moderate I suppose is out of controversy. Thus Mr.
Hartlib, you have a general view in writing, as your desire was, of
that which at several times I had discoursed with you concerning

'" Advantages. •' Evil.

OF EDUCATION 247

the best and noblest way of education; not beginning as some have
done from the cradle, which yet might be worth many considera-
tions, if brevity had not been my scope, many other circumstances
also I could have mentioned, but this to such as have the worth in
them to make trial, for light and direction may be enough. Only
I believe that this is not a bow for every man to shoot in that counts
himself a teacher; but will require sinews almost equal to those
which Homer gave Ulysses, yet I am withal persuaded that it may
prove much more easy in the assay,'^ than it now seems at distance,
and much more illustrious: howbeit not more difficult than I im-
agine, and that imagination presents me with nothing but very
happy and very possible according to best wishes; if God have so
decreed, and this age have spirit and capacity enough to apprehend.

•' Anempt.

RELIGIO MEDICI

BY

SIR THOMAS BROW>fE

INTRODUCTORY NOTE

Sir Thomas Browne was born in London on October 19, 1605, edu-
cated at Winchester and Oxford, and trained for the practise of medicine.
After traveling on the Continent he finally settled as a physician in
Norwich, and enjoyed a distinguished professional reputation. Later he
became equally famous as a scholar and antiquary, and was knighted
by Charles II on the occasion of the King's visit to Norwich in 1671.
In 1641 he married, and he was survived by four of his ten children.
He died on his seventy-seventh birthday.

His "Religio Medici" seems to have been written about 1635, without
being intended for publication. In 1642, however, two surreptitious
editions appeared, and he was induced by the inaccuracies of these to
issue an authorized edition in 1643. Since that time between thirty and
forty editions have appeared, and the work has been translated into
Latin, Dutch, French, German, and Italian. Of his other works the most
famous are "Pseudodoxia Epidemica, or Enquiries into Vulgar Errors"
(1646), a treatise of vast learning and much entertainment; "Hydrio-
taphia, or Urn Burial," a discourse on burial customs, which closes with
a chapter on death and immortality, the majestic eloquence of which
places Browne in the first rank of writers of English prose; and "The
Garden of Cyrus," a fantastic account of horticulture from the Garden
of Eden down to the time of Cyrus, King of Persia, with much dis-
cussion on the mystical significations of the number five. His miscel-
laneous writings cover a great variety of subjects, religious, scientific,
and antiquarian.

The "Religio Medici" is an excellent typical example of the author's
style. At once obscured and enriched by his individual and sometimes
far-fetched vocabulary, his full and sonorous periods remain the delight
of readers with an ear for the cadences of English prose. The matter of
the book also reveals a personality of great charm and humor, a mind
at once surprisingly acute and surprisingly credulous, and a character
of an exalted nobility.

TO THE READER

Certainly that man were greedy of Life, who should desire to live
when ail the world were at an end; and he must needs be very impatient,
who would repine at death in the society of all things that sufler under it.
Had not almost every man suflered by the Press, or were not the tyranny
thereof become universal, I had not wanted reason for complaint: but in
times wherein I have lived to behold the highest perversion of that ex-
cellent invention, the name of his Majesty defamed, the Honour of
Parliament depraved, the Writings of both depravedly, anticijjatively,
counterfeidy imprinted; complaints may seem ridiculous in private per-
sons; and men of my condition may be as incapable of affronts, as hope-
less of their reparations. And truely, had not the duty I owe unto the
importunity of friends, and the allegiance I must ever acknowledge unto
truth, prevailed with me, the inactivity of my disposition might have
made these suflerings continual, and time, that brings other things to
light, should have satisfied me in the remedy of its oblivion. But because
things evidently false are not onely printed, but many things of truth
most falsly set forth, in this latter I could not but think my self engaged:
for, though we have no fwwer to redress the former, yet in the other the
reparation being within our selves, I have at present represented unto
the world a full and intended Copy of that Piece, which was most im-
perfecdy and surreptitiously published before.

This, I confess, about seven years past, with some others of affinity
thereto, for my private exercise and satisfaction, I had at leisurable hours
composed; which being communicated unto one, it became common
unto many, and was by Transcription successively corrupted, untill it
arrived in a most depraved Copy at the Press. He that shall peruse that
work, and shall take notice of sundry particularities and personal ex-
pressions therein, will easily discern the intention was not publick; and,
being a private Exercise directed to my self, what is delivered therein,
was rather a memorial unto me, than an Example or Rule unto any
other; and therefore, if there be any singularity therein correspondent
unto the private conceptions of any man, it doth not advantage them;
or if dissentaneous' thereunto, it no way overthrows them. It was penned
in such a place, and with such disadvantage, that, (I protest,) from the
first setting of pen unto pa(>er, I had not the assistance of any good Book
whereby to promote my invention or relieve my memory; and there-

'Not in accordance.
as I

252 TO THE READER

fore there might be many real lapses therein, which others might take
notice of, and more that I suspected my self. It was set down many years
past, and was the sense of my conceptions at that time, not an immutable
Law unto my advancing judgement at all times; and therefore there
might be many things therein plausible unto my passed apprehension,
which are not agreeable unto my present self. There are many things
delivered Rhetorically, many expressions therein meerly Tropical, and as
they best illustrate my intention; and therefore also there are many
things to be taken in a soft and flexible sense, and not to be called unto
the rigid test of Reason. Lasdy, all that is contained therein is in sub-
mission unto maturer discernments; and, as I have declared, shall no
further father them than the best and learned judgments shall authorize
them: under favour of which considerations I have made its secrecy
publick, and committed the truth thereof to every Ingenuous Reader.

THO. BROWNE.

RELIGIO MEDICI

THE FIRST PART

FOR my Religion, though there be several Circumstances that
might perswade the World I have none at all, (as the general
scandal of my Profession,' the natural course of my Studies,
the indifferency of my Behaviour and Discourse in matters of Re-
ligion, neither violently Defending one, nor with that common ar-
dour and contention Opposing another;) yet, in despight hereof, I
dare without usurpation assume the honourable Stile of a Christian.
Not that I meerly owe this Title to the Font, my Education, or the
clime wherein I was born, (as being bred up either to confirm those
Principles my Parents instilled into my unwary Understanding, or
by a general consent proceed in the Religion of my Country;) but
having in my riper years and confirmed Judgment seen and exam-
ined all, I find my self obliged by the Principles of Grace, and the
Law of mine own Reason, to embrace no other Name but this.
Neither doth herein my zeal so far make me forget the general
Charity I owe unto Humanity, as rather to hate than pity Turks,
Infidels, and (what is worse,) Jews; rather contenting my self to
enjoy that happy Stile, than maligning those who refuse so glorious
a Title.

II. But, because the Name of a Christian is become too general
to express our Faith, (there being a Geography of Religions as well
as Lands, and every Clime distinguished not only by their Laws and
Limits, but circumscribed by their Doctrines and Rules of Faith;)
to be particular, I am of that Reformed new-cast Religion, wherein
I dislike nothing but the Name; of the same belief our Saviour
taught, the Apostles disseminated, the Fathers authorized, and the
Martyrs confirmed; but by the sinister ends of Princes, the ambi-
tion and avarice of Prelates, and the fatal corruption of times, so
* Cf. the saying, "Among three physicians, two atheists."
»53

254 THOMAS BROWNE

decayed, impaired, and fallen from its native Beauty, that it required
the careful and charitable hands of these times to restore it to its
primitive Integrity. Now the accidental occasion whereupon, the
slender means whereby, the low and abject condition of the Person*
by whom so good a work was set on foot, which in our Adver-
saries beget contempt and scorn, fills me with wonder, and is the
very same Objection the insolent Pagans first cast at Christ and
His Disciples.

III. Yet have I not so shaken hands with those desperate Reso-
lutions,* (who had rather venture at large their decayed bottom, than
bring her in to be new trimm'd in the Dock; who had rather pro-
miscuously retain all, than abridge any, and obstinately be what
they are, than what they have been,) as to stand in Diameter' and
Swords point with them. We have reformed from them, not against
them; for (omitting those Improperations' and Terms of Scurrility
betwixt us, which only difference our Affections, and not our
Cause,) there is between us one common Name and Appellation,
one Faith and necessary body of Principles common to us both;
and therefore I am not scrupulous to converse and live with them, to
enter their Churches in defect of ours, and either pray with them,
or for them. I could never perceive any rational Consequence from
those many Texts which prohibit the Children of Israel to pollute
themselves with the Temples of the Heathens; we being all Chris-
tians, and not divided by such detested impieties as might prophane
our Prayers, or the place wherein we make them; or that a resolved
Conscience may not adore her Creator any where, espjecially in
places devoted to His Service; where, if their Devotions offend Him,
mine may please Him; if theirs prophane it, mine may hallow it.
Holy-water and Crucifix (dangerous to common people,) deceive
not my judgment, nor abuse my devotion at all. I am, I confess,
naturally inclined to that which misguided Zeal terms Superstition.
My common conversation' I do acknowledge austere, my behaviour
full of rigour, sometimes not without morosity; yet at my Devotion
I love to use the civility of my knee, my hat, and hand, with all
those outward and sensible motions which may express or promote

' Probably Luther is meant. * Persons who have resolved. ' Direct oppositioa.
' Taunts. ' Manner of life.

RELIGIO MEDICI 255

my invisible Devotion. I should violate my own arm rather than
a Church; nor willingly deface the name of Saint or Martyr. At the
sight of a Cross or Crucifix I can dispense with my hat, but scarce
with the thought or memory of my Saviour. I cannot laugh at,
but rather pity, the fruitless journeys of Pilgrims, or contemn the
miserable condition of Fryars; for, though misplaced in Circum-
stances, there is something in it of Devotion. I could never hear the
Ave-Mary Bell without an elevation; or think it a sufficient war-
rant, because they erred in one circumstance, for me to err in all,
that is, in silence and dumb contempt. Whilst, therefore, they
directed their Devotions to Her, I offered mine to God, and rectified
the Errors of their Prayers by rightly ordering mine own. At a
solemn Procession I have wept abundantly, while my consorts, blind
with opposition and prejudice, have fallen into an excess of scorn
and laughter. There are, questionless, both in Greek, Roman, and
African Churches, Solemnities and Ceremonies, whereof the wiser
Zeals do make a Christian use, and stand condemned by us, not as
evil in themselves, but as allurements and baits of superstition to
those vulgar heads that look asquint on the face of Truth, and those
unstable Judgments that cannot consist in the narrow point and
centre of Virtue without a reel or stagger to the Circumference.

IV. As there were many Reformers, so likewise many Reforma-
tions; every Country proceeding in a particular way and method,
according as their national Interest, together with their Constitution
and Clime, inclined them; some angrily, and with extremity; others
calmly, and with mediocrity; not rending, but easily dividing the
community, and leaving an honest possibility of a reconciliation;
which though peaceable Spirits do desire, and may conceive that
revolution of time and the mercies of God may effect, yet that
judgment that shall consider the present antipathies between the
two extreams, their contrarieties in condition, affection, and opin-
ion, may with the same hopes expect an union in the Poles of
Heaven.

V. But (to difference my self nearer, and draw into a lesser Cir-
cle,) there is no Church whose every part so squares unto my Con-
science; whose Articles, Constitutions, and Customs seem so conso-
nant unto reason, and as it were framed to my particular Devotion,

256 THOMAS BROWNE

as this whereof I hold my Belief, the Church of England; to whose
Faith I am a sworn Subject, and therefore in a double Obligation
subscribe unto her Articles, and endeavour to observe her Consti-
tutions. Whatsoever is beyond, as points indifferent, I observe ac-
cording to the rules of my private reason, or the humor and fashion
of my Devotion; neither believing this, because Luther affirmed it,
or disproving that, because Calvin hath disavouched it. I condemn
not all things in the Council of Trent, nor approve all in the Synod
of Dort. In brief, where the Scripture is silent, the Church is my
Text; where that speaks, 'tis but my Comment: where there is a
joynt silence of both, I borrow not the rules of my Religion from
Rome or Geneva, but the dictates of my own reason. It is an un-
just scandal of our adversaries, and a gross errour in our selves, to
compute the Nativity of our Religion from Henry the Eighth, who,
though he rejected the Pope, refus'd not the faith of Rome, and
effected no more than what his own Predecessors desired and as-
sayed in Ages past, and was conceived the State of Venice would
have attempted in our days. It is as uncharitable a point in us to
fall upon those popular scurrilities and opprobrious scoffs of the
Bishop of Rome, to whom, as a temporal Prince, we owe the duty
of good language. I confess there is cause of passion between us:
by his sentence I stand excommunicated; Heretic/^ is the best lan-
guage he affords me; yet can no ear witness I ever returned him the
name of Antichrist, Man of Sin, or Whore of Babylon. It is the
method of Charity to suffer without reaction: those usual Satyrs
and invectives of the Pulpit may perchance produce a good effect on
the vulgar, whose ears are opener to Rhetorick than Logick; yet
do they in no wise confirm the faith of wiser Believers, who know
that a good cause needs not to be patron'd by passion, but can sus-
tain itself upon a temperate dispute.

VI. I could never divide myself from any man upon the differ-
ence of an opinion, or be angry with his judgment for not agreeing
with me in that from which perhaps within a few days I should
dissent my self. I have no Genius to disputes in Religion, and have
often thought it wisdom to decline them, especially upon a disad-
vantage, or when the cause of Truth might suffer in the weakness
of my patronage. Where we desire to be informed, 'tis good to

RELIGIO MEDICI 257

contest with men above our selves; but to confirm and establish our
opinions, 'tis best to argue with judgments below our own, that the
frequent spoils and Victories over their reasons may settle in our-
selves an esteem and confirmed Opinion of our own. Every man is
not a proper Champion for Truth, nor fit to take up the Gauntlet
in the cause of Verity: many from the ignorance of these Maximes,
and an inconsiderate Zeal unto Truth, have too rashly charged the
Troops of Error, and remain as Trophies unto the enemies of
Truth. A man may be in as just possession of Truth as of a City,
and yet be forced to surrender; 'tis therefore far better to enjoy her
with peace, than to hazzard her on a battle. If, therefore, there rise
any doubts in my way, I do forget them, or at least defer them till
my better setled judgement and more manly reason be able to
resolve them; for I perceive every man's own reason is his best
CEdipus, and will, upon a reasonable truce, find a way to loose those
bonds wherewith the subtleties of error have enchained our more
flexible and tender judgements. In Philosophy, where Truth seems
double-fac'd, there is no man more Paradoxical than my self: but
in Divinity I love to keep the Road; and, though not in an implicite,
yet an humble faith, follow the great wheel of the Church, by which
I move, not reserving any proper Poles or motion from the Epicycle'
of my own brain. By this means I leave no gap for Heresies,
Schismes, or Errors, of which at present I hope I shall not injure
Truth to say I have no taint or tincture. I must confess my greener
studies have been polluted with two or three; not any begotten in
the latter Centuries, but old and obsolete, such as could never have
been revived, but by such extravagant and irregular heads as mine:
for indeed Heresies perish not with their Authors, but, like the
river Arethusa, though they lose their currents in one place, they
rise up again in another. One General Council is not able to ex-
tirpate one single Heresie: it may be cancell'd for the present; but
revolution of time, and the like aspects from Heaven, will restore it,
when it will flourish till it be condemned again. For as though there
were a Metempsuchosis, and the soul of one man passed into an-
other. Opinions do find, after certain Revolutions, men and minds
like those that first begat them. To see our selves again, we need
' Astronomy, a smaller circle whose center describes a larger.

258 THOMAS BROWNE

not look for Plato's year:' every man is not only himself; there
hath been many Diogenes, and as many Timons, though but few of
that name: men are liv'd over again, the world is now as it was in
Ages past; there was none then, but there hath been some one since
that parallels him, and is, as it were, his revived self.

VII. Now the first of mine was that of the Arabians, That the
Souls of men perished with their Bodies, but should yet be raised
again at the last day. Not that I did absolutely conceive a mortality
of the Soul; but if that were, (which Faith, not Philosophy, hath yet
throughly disproved,) and that both entred the grave together, yet
I held the same conceit thereof that we all do of the body, that it
should rise again. Surely it is but the merits of our unworthy
Natures, if we sleep in darkness until the last Alarum. A serious
reflex upon my own unworthiness did make me backward from
challenging this prerogative of my Soul: so that I might enjoy my
Saviour at the last, I could with patience be nothing almost unto
Eternity.

The second was that of Origen, That God would not persist in
His vengeance for ever, but after a definite time of His wrath. He
would release the damned Souls from torture. Which error I fell
into upon a serious contemplation of the great Attribute of God,
His Mercy; and did a little cherish it in my self, because I found
therein no malice, and a ready weight to sway me from the other
extream of despair, whereunto Melancholy and Contemplative Na-
tures are too easily disposed.

A third there is, which I did never positively maintain or prac-
tise, but have often wished it had been consonant to Truth, and not
offensive to my Religion, and that is, the Prayer for the Dead;
whereunto I was indin'd from some charitable inducements,
whereby I could scarce contain my Prayers for a friend at the ringing
of a Bell, or behold his Corps without an Orison for his Soul. 'Twas
a good way, methought, to be remembered by posterity, and far more
noble than an History.

These opinions I never maintained with pertinacy, or endeav-
oured to enveagle any mans belief unto mine, nor so much as ever

*A period of thousands of years, at the end of which all things should return
to their former state.

RELIGIO MEDICI 259

revealed or disputed them with my dearest friends; by which means
I neither propagated them in others, nor confirmed them in my
self; but suffering them to flame upon their own substance, without
addition of new fuel, they went out insensibly of themselves. There-
fore these Opinions, though condemned by lawful Councels, were
not Heresies in me, but bare Errors, and single Lapses of my under-
standing, without a joynt depravity of my will. Those have not
onely depraved understandings, but diseased affections, which can-
not enjoy a singularity without an Heresie, or be the Author of an
Opinion without they be of a Sect also. This was the villany of the
first Schism of Lucifer, who was not content to err alone, but drew
into his Faction many Legions of Spirits; and upon this experience
he tempted only Eve, as well understanding the Communicable
nature of Sin, and that to deceive but one, was tacitely and upon
consequence to delude them both.

VIII. That Heresies should arise, we have the Prophesie of
Christ; but that old ones should be abolished, we hold no predic-
tion. That there must be Heresies, is true, not only in our Church,
but also in any other: even in doctrines heretical, there will be
sup)er-heresies; and Arians not only divided from their Church, but
also among themselves. For heads that are disposed unto Schism
and complexionally propense'" to innovation, are naturally indisposed
for a community, nor will be ever confined unto the order or cccon-
omy of one body; and therefore, when they separate from others,
they knit but loosely among themselves; nor contented with a gen-
eral breach or dichotomy with their Church do subdivide and mince
themselves almost into Atoms. 'Tis true, that men of singular parts
and humours have not been free from singular opinions and con-
ceits in all Ages; retaining something, not only beside the opinion of
his own Church or any other, but also any particular Author; which,
notwithstanding, a sober Judgment may do without offence or
heresie; for there is yet, after all the Decrees of Councils and the
niceties of the Schools, many things untouch'd, unimagin'd, wherein
the liberty of an honest reason may play and expatiate with security,
and far without the circle of an Heresie.

IX. As for those wingy Mysteries in Divinity, and airy subtleties

'"Inclined by temperament.

26o THOMAS BROWNE

in Religion, which have unhing'd the brains of better heads, they
never stretched the Pia Mater^^ of mine. Methinks there be not im-
possibilities enough in Religion for an active faith; the deepest Mys-
teries ours contains have not only been illustrated, but maintained, by
Syllogism and the rule of Reason. I love to lose my self in a mys-
tery, to pursue my Reason to an O altitudol Tis my solitary recrea-
tion to pose my apprehension with those involved ^Enigmas and
riddles of the Trinity, with Incarnation, and Resurrection. I can
answer all the Objections of Satan and my rebellious reason with
that odd resolution I learned of Tertullian, Certum est, quia im-
possibile est. I desire to exercise my faith in the difficultest point;
for to credit ordinary and visible objects is not faith, but perswasion.
Some believe the better for seeing Christ's Sepulchre; and, when
they have seen the Red Sea, doubt not of the Miracle. Now, con-
trarily, I bless my self and am thankful that I lived not in the days
of Miracles, that I never saw Christ nor His Disciples. I would
not have been one of those Israelites that pass'd the Red Sea, nor one
of Christ's patients on whom He wrought His wonders; then had
my faith been thrust upon me, nor should I enjoy that greater bless-
ing pronounced to all that believe and saw not. Tis an easie and
necessary belief, to credit what our eye and sense hath examined. I
believe He was dead, and buried, and rose again; and desire to see
Him in His glory, rather than to contemplate Him in His Cenotaphe
or Sepulchre. Nor is this much to believe; as we have reason, we owe
this faith unto History: they only had the advantage of a bold and
noble Faith, who lived before His coming, who upon obscure proph-
esies and mystical Types could raise a belief, and expect apparent
impossibilities.

X. Tis true, there is an edge in all firm belief, and with an easie
Metaphor we may say, the Sword of Faith; but in these obscurities
I rather use it in the adjunct the Apostle gives it, a Bucl^ler; under
which I conceive a wary combatant may lye invulnerable. Since I
was of understanding to know we knew nothing, my reason hath
been more pliable to the will of Faith; I am now content to under-
stand a mystery without a rigid definition, in an easier and Pla-
i' A membrane surrounding the brain.

RELIGIO MEDICI 261

tonick description. That allegorical description of Hermes" pleaseth
me beyond all the Metaphysical definitions of Divines. Where I
cannot satisfy my reason, I love to humour my fancy: I had as live
you tell me that anima est angelus hominis, est Corpus Dei, [the
soul is man's angel, God's body] as Entelechia;" — Lux est umbra
Dei, [Light is God's shadow] as actus perspicui.'* Where there is
an obscurity too deep for our Reason, 'tis good to sit down with a
description, {periphrasis, or adumbration; for by acquainting our
Reason how unable it is to display the visible and obvious effects of
Nature, it becomes more humble and submissive unto the subtle-
ties of Faith; and thus I teach my haggard" and unreclaimed Reason
to stoop unto the lure of Faith. I believe there was already a tree
whose fruit our unhappy Parents tasted, though, in the same Chap-
ter when God forbids it, 'tis positively said, the plants of the field
were not yet grown, for God had not caus'd it to rain upon the
earth. I believe that the Serpent, (if we shall literally understand
it,) from his proper form and figure, made his motion on his belly
before the curse. I find the tryal of the Pucellage and virginity of
Women, which God ordained the Jews, is very fallible. Experience
and History informs me, that not onely many particular Women,
but likewise whole Nations, have escaped the curse of Childbirth,
which God seems to pronounce upon the whole Sex. Yet I do be-
lieve that all this is true, which indeed my Reason would perswade
me to be false; and this I think is no vulgar part of Faith, to believe
a thing not only above but contrary to Reason, and against the
Arguments of our proper Senses.
XI. In my solitary and retired imagination

(neque enim cum porticus aut me
Lectulus accepit, desum mihi,)

[for when porch or bed has received me, I do not lose myself]

I remember I am not alone, and therefore forget not to contemplate
Him and His Attributes Who is ever with me, especially those two

•The description alluded to, "God is a sphere whose center is everywhere and
circumference nowhere," is said not to be found in the books which pass under the
name of the fabulous Hermes Trismcgistus. " Aristotle's word for "actual being."
'^Tbe active force of the clear. '' Intracuble: used of a hawk.

262 THOMAS BROWNE

mighty ones, His Wisdom and Eternity. With the one I recreate,
with the other I confound, my understanding; for who can speak of
Eternity without a solcEcism, or think thereof without an Extasie?
Time we may comprehend; 'tis but five days elder then our selves,
and hath the same Horoscope with the World; but to retire so far
back as to apprehend a beginning, to give such an infinite start
forwards as to conceive an end, in an essence that we affirm hath
neither the one nor the other, it puts my Reason to St. Paul's Sanc-
tuary." My Philosophy dares not say the Angels can do it.
God hath not made a Creature that can comprehend Him; 'tis a
privilege of His own nature. I am that I am, was His own defini-
tion unto Moses; and 'twas a short one, to confound mortality, that
durst question God, or ask Him what He was. Indeed, He onely is;
all others have and shall be. But in Eternity there is no distinction
of Tenses; and therefore that terrible term Predestination, which
hath troubled so many weak heads to conceive, and the wisest to
explain, is in respect to God no prescious" determination of our Es-
tates to come, but a definitive blast of His Will already fulfilled, and
at the instant that He first decreed it; for to His Eternity, which is
indivisible and all together, the last Trump is already sounded, the
reprobates in the flame, and the blessed in Abraham's bosome. St.
Peter speaks modestly," when he saith, a thousand years to God are
but as one day; for, to speak like a Philosopher, those continued in-
stances of time which flow into a thousand years, make not to Him
one moment: what to us is to come, to His Eternity is present. His
whole duration being but one permanent point, without Sucession,
Parts, Flux, or Division.

XII. There is no Attribute that adds more difficulty to the mys-
tery of the Trinity, where, though in a relative way of Father and
Son, we must deny a priority. I wonder how Aristotle could con-
ceive the World eternal, or how he could make good two Eternities.
His similitude of a Triangle comprehended in a square doth some-
what illustrate the Trinity of our Souls, and that the Triple Unity
of God; for there is in us not three, but a Trinity of Souls; because
there is in us, if not three distinct Souls, yet differing faculties, that

" This has been taken as a reference to Rom. zL 33, but the exact meaning is
uncertain. " Foreknowing. '^ Moderately.

RELIGIO MEDICI 263

can and do subsist apart in different Subjects, and yet in us are so
united as to make but one Soul and substance.

If one Soul were so perfect as to inform three distinct Bodies,
that were a petty Trinity: conceive the distinct number of three, not
divided nor separated by the intellect, but actually comprehended
in its Unity, and that is a perfect Trinity. I have often admired the
mystical way of Pythagoras, and the secret Magick of numbers. Be-
ware of Philosophy, is a precept not to be received in too large a
sense; for in this Mass of Nature there is a set of things that carry
in their Front (though not in Capital Letters, yet in Stenography
and short Characters,) something of Divinity, which to wiser Rea-
sons serve as Luminaries in the Abyss of Knowledge, and to judi-
cious beliefs as Scales" and Roundles™ to mount the Pinacles and
highest pieces of Divinity. The severe Schools shall never laugh me
out of the Philosophy of Hermes, that this visible World is but a
Picture of the invisible, wherein, as in a Pourtraict, things are not
truely, but in equivocal shapes, and as they counterfeit some more
real substance in that invisible fabrick.

XIII. That other Attribute wherewith I recreate my devotion, is
His Wisdom, in which I am happy; and for the contemplation of
this only, do not repent me that I was bred in the way of Study: the
advantage I have of the vulgar, with the content and happiness I
conceive therein, is an ample recompence for all my endeavours,
in what part of knowledge soever. Wisdom is His most beauteous
Attribute; no man can attain unto it, yet Solomon pleased God
when he desired it. He is wise, because He knows all things; and
He knoweth all things, because He made them all: but His great-
est knowledge is in comprehending that He made not, that is. Him-
self. And this is also the greatest knowledge in man. For this do
I honour my own profession, and embrace the Counsel even of the
Devil himself: had he read such a Lecture in Paradise as he did at
Delphos,^' we had better known our selves, nor had we stood in
fear to know him. I know He is wise in all, wonderful in what we
conceive, but far more in what we comprehend not; for we behold
Him but asquint, upon reflex or shadow; our understanding is

" Ladders. ^ Steps of a ladder. " "Know thyself." This, like other ancient
oracles, Browne ascribes to the Devil.

264 THOMAS BROWNE

dimmer than Moses Eye; we are ignorant of the back-parts or lower
side of His Divinity; therefore to prie into the maze of His Coun-
sels is not only folly in man, but presumption even in Angels. Like
us, they are His Servants, not His Senators; He holds no Counsel,
but that mystical one of the Trinity, wherein, though there be three
Persons, there is but one mind that decrees without contradiction.
Nor needs He any: His actions are not begot with deliberation,
His Wisdom naturally knows what's best; His intellect stands ready
fraught with the superlative and purest Ideas of goodness; consulta-
tion and election, which are two motions in us, make but one in
Him, His actions springing from His power at the first touch of
His will. These are Contemplations metaphysical: my humble
speculations have another Method, and are content to trace and dis-
cover those expressions He hath left in His Creatures, and the ob-
vious effects of Nature. There is no danger to profound" these
mysteries, no sanctum sanctorum in Philosophy. The World was
made to be inhabited by Beasts, but studied and contemplated by
Man : 'tis the Debt of our Reason we owe unto God, and the homage
we pay for not being Beasts. Without this, the World is still as
though it had not been, or as it was before the sixth day, when as
yet there was not a Creature that could conceive or say there was
a World. The Wisdom of God receives small honour from those
vulgar Heads that rudely stare about, and with a gross rusticity
admire His works: those highly magnifie Him, whose judicious
inquiry into His Acts, and deliberate research into His Creatures,
return the duty of a devout and learned admiration. Therefore,

Search while thou wilt, and let thy Reason go.
To ransome Truth, even to th* Abyss below;
Rally the scattered Causes; and that line.
Which Nature twists, be able to untwine.
It is thy Makers will, for unto none
But unto Reason can He e're be known.
The Devils do know Thee, but those damned Meteors
Build not Thy Glory, but confound Thy Creatures.
Teach my indeavours so Thy works to read,
That learning them in Thee, I may proceed.
Give Thou my reason that instructive flight,
'* Plunge into.

RELIGIO MEDICI 265

Whose weary wings may on Thy hands still light.

Teach me to soar aloft, yet ever so,

When neer the Sun, to stoop again below.

Thus shall my humble Feathers safely hover,

And, though near Earth, more than the Heavens discover.

And then at last, when homeward I shall drive.

Rich with the Spoils of Nature, to my Hive,

There will I sit like that industrious Flie,

Buzzing Thy praises, which shall never die.

Till Death abrupts them, and succeeding Glory

Bid me go on in a more lasting story.

And this is almost all wherein an humble Creature may en-
deavour to requite and some way to retribute" unto his Creator:
for if not he that saith, "Lord, Lord," but he that doth the will of
his Father, shall be saved; certainly our wills must be our perform-
ances, and our intents make out our Actions; otherwise our pious
labours shall find anxiety in our Graves, and our best endeavours
not hope, but fear, a resurrection.

XIV. There is but one first cause, and four second causes of all
things. Some are without efficient, as God; others without matter,
as Angels; some without form, as the first matter: but every Essence,
created or uncreated, hath its final cause, and some positive end both
of its Essence and Operation. This is the cause I grop)e after in the
works of Nature; on this hangs the Providence of God. To raise so
beauteous a structure as the World and the Creatures thereof, was
but His Art; but their sundry and divided operations, with their
predestinated ends, are from the Treasure of His Wisdom. In the
causes, nature, and affections" of the Eclipses of the Sun and Moon,
there is most excellent speculation; but to profound" farther, and to
contemplate a reason why His Providence hath so disposed and
ordered their motions in that vast circle as to conjoyn and obscure
each other, is a sweeter piece of Reason, and a diviner point of Phi-
losophy. Therefore sometimes, and in some things, there appears to
me as much Divinity in Galen his books De Usti Partium, as in
Suarez Metaphysicks. Had Aristotle been as curious in the enquiry
of this cause as he was of the other, he had not left behind him an
imperfect piece of Philosophy, but an absolute tract of Divinity.
** Plunffe into. *' Render back. ^* Influences.

266 THOMAS BROWNE

XV. Natura nihil agit jrustra, [Nature does nothing in vain]
is the only indisputed Axiome in Philosophy. There are no Gro-
tesques in Nature; not anything framed to fill up empty Cantons,"
and unnecessary spaces. In the most imperfect Creatures, and such
as were not preserved in the Ark, but, having their Seeds and Prin-
ciples in the womb of Nature, are every where, where the power of
the Sun is, in these is the Wisdom of His hand discovered. Out of
this rank Solomon chose the object of his admiration. Indeed what
Reason may not go to School to the Wisdom of Bees, Ants, and
Spiders? what wise hand teacheth them to do what Reason cannot
teach us? Ruder heads stand amazed at those prodigious pieces of
Nature, Whales, Elephants, Dromidaries and Camels; these, I con-
fess, are the Colossus and majestick pieces of her hand: but in these
narrow Engines there is more curious Mathematicks; and the civil-
ity of these little Citizens more neatly sets forth Wisdom of their
Maker. Who admires not Regio-Montanus^° his Fly beyond his
Eagle, or wonders not more at the operation of two Souls^' in those
little Bodies, than but one in the Trunk of a Cedar? I could never
content my contemplations with those general pieces of wonder, the
Flux and Reflux of the Sea, the increase of Nile, the conversion of
the Needle to the North; and have studied to match and parallel
those in the more obvious and neglected pieces of Nature, which
without further travel I can do in the Cosmography of myself.
We carry with us the wonders we seek without us: there is all
Africa and her prodigies in us; we are that bold and adventur-
ous piece of Nature, which he that studies wisely learns in a com-
pendium what others labour at in a divided piece and endless
volume.

XVI. Thus there are two Books from whence I collect my Di-
vinity; besides that written one of God, another of His servant Na-
ture, that universal and publick Manuscript, that lies expans'd unto
the Eyes of all: those that never saw Him in the one, have discovered
Him in the other. This was the Scripture and Theology of the
Heathens: the natural motion of the Sun made them more admire
Him than its supernatural station did the Children of Israel; the

''Corners. "John Miiller of Konigsbcrg (1636-75), who made an automatic
iron fly on a wooden eagle. ^' The sensitive and the vegetative.

RELIGIO MEDICI 267

ordinary effects of Nature wrought more admiration in them than
in the other all His Miracles. Surely the Heathens knew better how
to joyn and read these mystical Letters than we Christians, who cast
a more careless Eye on these common Hieroglyphicks, and disdain
to suck Divinity from the flowers of Nature. Nor do I so forget God
as to adore the name of Nature; which I define not, with the
Schools, to be the principle of motion and rest, but that streight and
regular line, that settled and constant course the Wisdom of God
hath ordained the actions of His creatures, according to their several
kinds. To make a revolution every day is the Nature of the Sun,
because of that necessary course which God hath ordained it, from
which it cannot swerve but by a faculty from that voice which first
did give it motion. Now this course of Nature God seldome alters
or perverts, but, like an excellent Artist, hath so contrived His
work, that with the self same instrument, without a new creation,
He may effect His obscurest designs. Thus He sweetneth the Water
with a Wood,^ preserveth the Creatures in the Ark, which the blast
of His mouth might have as easily created; for God is like a skilful
Geometrician, who, when more easily and with one stroak of his
Compass he might describe or divide a right line, had yet rather do
this in a circle or longer way, according to the constituted and fore-
laid principles of his Art. Yet this rule of His He doth sometimes
pervert, to acquaint the World with His Prerogative, lest the ar-
rogancy of our reason should question His power, and conclude He
could not. And thus I call the effects of Nature the works of God,
Whose hand and instrument she only is; and therefore to ascribe His
actions unto her, is to devolve the honour of the principal agent
upon the instrument; which if with reason we may do, then let our
hammers rise up and boast they have built our houses, and our pens
receive the honour of our writings. I hold there is a general beauty
in the works of God, and therefore no deformity in any kind or
species of creature whatsoever. I cannot tell by what Logick we call
a Toad, a Bear, or an Elephant ugly; they being created in those
outward shapes and figures which best express the actions of their
inward forms, and having past that general Visitation" of God,
Who saw that all that He had made was good, that is, conformable
'•Exod. XV. 25. '' Inspection, Gen. i. 31.

268 THOMAS BROWNE

to His Will, which abhors deformity, and is the rule of order and
beauty. There is no deformity but in Monstrosity; wherein, not-
withstanding, there is a kind of Beauty; Nature so ingeniously con-
triving the irregular parts, as they become sometimes more remark-
able than the principal Fabrick. To speak yet more narrowly, there
was never any thing ugly or mis-shapen, but the Chaos; wherein,
notwithstanding, (to speak strictly,) there was no deformity, because
no form; nor was it yet impregnant by the voice of God. Now
Nature is not at variance with Art, nor Art with Nature, they being
both servants of His Providence. Art is the perfection of Nature.
Were the World now as it was the sixth day, there were yet a
Chaos. Nature hath made one World, and Art another. In brief,
all things are artificial; for Nature is the Art of God.

XVII. This is the ordinary and open way of His Providence,
which Art and Industry have in a good part discovered; whose
effects we may foretel without an Oracle: to foreshew these, is not
Prophesie, but Prognostication. There is another way, full of
Meanders and Labyrinths, whereof the Devil and Spirits have no
exact Ephemerides;" and that is a more particular and obscure
method of His Providence, directing the operations of individuals
and single Essences: this we call Fortune, that serpentine and crook-
ed line, whereby He draws those actions His Wisdom intends,
in a more unknown and secret way. This cryptick and involved
method of His Providence have I ever admired; nor can I relate
the History of my life, the occurrences of my days, the escapes of
dangers, and hits of chance, with a Bezo las Mano^^ to Fortune,
or a bare Gramercy to my good Stars. Abraham might have
thought the Ram in the thicket came thither by accident; humane**
reason would have said that meer chance conveyed Moses in the
Ark to the sight of Pharaoh's Daughter: what a Labyrinth is there
in the story of Joseph, able to convert a Stoick! Surely there are
in every man's Life certain rubs, doublings, and wrenches, which
pass a while under the effects of chance, but at the last, well exam-
ined, prove the meer hand of God. 'Twas not dumb chance, that,
to discover the Fougade or Powder-plot, contrived a miscarriage

** Tables of the daily state of the heavens, used as bases for prognostications.
*' Spanish, "I kiss hands," an acknowledgment of favor received. ^ Human.

RELIGIO MEDICI 269

in the Letter.** I like the Victory of '88 the better for that one oc-
currence, which our enemies imputed to our dishonour and the
partiahty of Fortune, to wit, the tempests and contrariety of Winds.
King Phihp did not detract from the Nation, when he said, he
sent his Armado to fight with men, and not to combate with the
Winds. Where there is a manifest disproportion between the powers
and forces of two several agents, upon a Maxime of reason we may
promise the Victory to the Superiour; but when unexpected acci-
dents slip in, and unthought of occurrences intervene, these must
proceed from a power that owes no obedience to those Axioms;
where, as in the writing upon the wall, we may behold the hand,
but see not the spring that moves it. The success of that petty
Province of Holland (of which the Grand Seignour" proudly said,
if they should trouble him as they did the Spaniard, he would send
his men with shovels and picl^-axes, and throw it into the Sea,) I
cannot altogether ascribe to the ingenuity and industry of the peo-
ple, but the mercy of God, that hath disposed them to such a thriv-
ing Genius; and to the will of His Providence, that disposeth her
favour to each Country in their pre-ordinate season. All cannot be
happy at once; for, because the glory of one State depends upon the
ruine of another, there is a revolution and vicissitude of their great-
ness, and must obey the swing of that wheel, not moved by Intelli-
gences, but by the hand of God, whereby all Estates arise to their
Zenith and Vertical points according to their predestinated periods.
For the lives, not only of men, but of Commonwealths, and the
whole World, run not upon an Helix^^ that still enlargeth, but on
a Circle, where, arriving to their Meridian, they decline in obscurity,
and fall under the Horizon again.

XVIII. These must not therefore be named the effects of Fortune,
but in a relative way, and as we term the works of Nature. It was
the ignorance of mans reason that begat this very name, and by a
careless term miscalled the Providence of God; for there is no lib-
erty for causes to operate in a loose and stragling way; nor any
effect whatsoever, but hath its warrant from some universal or su-
periour Cause. Tis not a ridiculous devotion to say a prayer before

" A miscarriaKC of the plot by means nf the letter to Lord Monteagle, by which
the plot waj discovered. ** The Sultan of Turkey. ** SpiraL

270 THOMAS BROWNE

a game at Tables; for even in sortilegie^ and matters ot greatest
uncertainty there is a setled and preordered course of effects. It is
we that are blind, not Fortune: because our Eye is too dim to dis-
cover the mystery of her effects, we foolishly paint her blind, and
hoodwink the Providence of the Almighty. I cannot justifie that
contemptible Proverb, That fools only are Fortunate, or that inso-
lent Paradox, That a wise man is out of the reach of Fortune;
much less those opprobrious epithets of Poets, Whore, Bawd, and
Strumpet. 'Tis, I confess, the common fate of men of singular gifts
of mind to be destitute of those of Fortune, which doth not any
way deject the Spirit of wiser judgements, who throughly under-
stand the justice of this proceeding; and being inriched with higher
donatives," cast a more careless eye on these vulgar parts of felicity.
It is a most unjust ambition to desire to engross the mercies of the
Almighty, not to be content with the goods of mind, without a
possession of those of body or Fortune; and it is an error worse
than heresie, to adore these complemental and circumstantial pieces
of felicity, and undervalue those perfections and essential points of
happiness wherein we resemble our Maker. To wiser desires it is
satisfaction enough to deserve, though not to enjoy, the favours
of Fortune: let Providence provide for Fools. TTis not partiality,
but equity in God, Who deals with us but as our natural Parents:
those that are able of Body and Mind He leaves to their deserts; to
those of weaker merits He imparts a larger portion, and pieces out
the defect of one by the excess of the other. Thus have we no
just quarrel with Nature for leaving us naked; or to envy the Horns,
Hoofs, Skins, and Furs of other Creatures, being provided with
Reason, that can supply them all. We need not labour with so many
Arguments to confute Judicial Astrology; for, if there be a truth
therein, it doth not injure Divinity. If to be born under Mercury
disposeth us to be witty, under Jupiter to be wealthy; I do not owe
a Knee unto these, but unto that merciful Hand that hath ordered
my indifferent and uncertain nativity unto such benevolous As-
pects. Those that hold that all things are governed by Fortune, had
not erred, had they not persisted" there. The Romans, that erected
a Temple to Fortune, acknowledged therein, though in a blinder
'•Drawing loB. "Gifts. " Stood still.

RELIGIO MEDICI 2/1

way, somewhat of Divinity; for, in a wise supputation," all things
begin and end in the Almighty. There is a nearer way to Heaven
than Homer's Chain;*" an easie Logic may conjoyn Heaven and
Earth in one Argument, and with less than a Sorites*^ resolve all
things into God. For though we christen effects by their most sensi-
ble" and nearest Causes, yet is God the true and infallible Cause of
all; whose concourse," though it be general, yet doth it subdivide
it self into the particular Actions of every thing, and is that Spirit,
by which each singular Essence not only subsists, but performs its
operation.

XIX. The bad construction and perverse comment on these pair
of second Causes, or visible hands of God, have perverted the De-
votion of many unto Atheism; who, forgetting the honest Advisoes"
of Faith, have listened unto the conspiracy of Passion and Reason.
I have therefore always endeavoured to compose those Feuds and
angry Dissentions between Affection, Faith, and Reason; for there
is in our Soul a kind of Triumvirate, or triple Government of three
Competitors, which distract the Peace of this our Commonwealth,
not less than did that other the State of Rome.

As Reason is a Rebel unto Faith, so Passion unto Reason: as the
propositions of Faith seem absurd unto Reason, so the Theorems of
Reason unto Passion, and both unto Faith. Yet a moderate and
peaceable discretion may so state and order the matter, that they
may be all Kings, and yet make but one Monarchy, every one exer-
cising his Soveraignty and Prerogative in a due time and place,
according to the restraint and limit of circumstance. There is, as
in Philosophy, so in Divinity, sturdy doubts and boisterous Objec-
tions, wherewith the unhappiness of our knowledge too nearly ac-
quainteth us. More of these no man hath known than myself, which
I confess I conquered, not in a martial posture, but on my Knees.
For our endeavours are not only to combat with doubts, but always
to dispute with the Devil. The villany of that Spirit takes a hint of
Infidelity from our Studies, and, by demonstrating a naturality in
one way, makes us mistrust a miracle in another. Thus, having
perused the Archidoxis*^ and read the secret Sympathies of things,

" Calculation. "Iliad viii. 19. *' A scries of syllogisms. ** Perceptible to
sense. ** Cooperation. ** Admonitions. " A work by Paracelsus.

272 THOMAS BROWNE

he would disswade my belief from the miracle of the Brazen Ser-
pent, make me conceit that Image worked by Sympathy, and was
but an itgyptian trick to cure their Diseases without a miracle.
Again, having seen some experiments of Bitumen, and having read
far more of Naphtha, he whispered to my curiosity the fire of the
Altar might be natural; and bid me mistrust a miracle in Elias,
when he entrenched the Altar round with Water; for that inflama-
ble substance yields not easily unto Water, but flames in the Arms
of its Antagonist. And thus would he inveagle my belief to think
the combustion of Sodom might be natural, and that there was an
Asphaltick and Bituminous nature in that Lake before the fire of
Gomorrah. I know that Manna is now plentifully gathered in
Calabria; and Josephus tells me, in his days it was as plentiful in
Arabia; the Devil therefore made the qucere. Where was then the
miracle in the days of Moses? the Israelites saw but that in his time,
the Natives of those Countries behold in ours. Thus the Devil
played at Chess with me, and yielding a Pawn, thought to gain a
Queen of me, taking advantage of my honest endeavours; and
whilst I laboured to raise the structure of my Reason, he strived to
undermine the edifice of my Faith.

XX. Neither had these or any other ever such advantage of me,
as to incline me to any point of Infidelity or desperate positions of
Atheism; for I have been these many years of opinion there was
never any. Those that held Religion was the difference of Man
from Beasts, have spoken probably, and proceed upon a principle
as inductive as the other. That doctrine of Epicurus, that denied
the Providence of God, was no Atheism, but a magnificent and high
strained conceit of His Majesty, which he deemed too sublime to
mind the trivial Actions of those inferior Creatures. That fatal
Necessity of the Stoicks is nothing but the immutable Law of His
Will. Those that heretofore denied the Divinity of the Holy
Ghost, have been condemned but as Hereticks; and those that now
deny our Saviour, (though more than Hereticks,) are not so much
as Atheists; for, though they deny two persons in the Trinity, they
hold, as we do, there is but one God.

That Villain and Secretary of Hell," that composed that mis-

*• Name unknown.

RELIGIO MEDICI 273

creant piece Of the Three Impostors, though divided from all
Religions, and was neither Jew, Turk, nor Christian, was not a
positive Atheist. I confess every Country hath its Machiavel, every
age its Lucian, whereof common Heads must not hear, nor more
advanced Judgments too rashly venture on: it is the Rhetorick of
Satan, and may pervert a loose or prejudicate belief.

XXI. I confess I have perused them all, and can discover nothing
that may startle a discreet belief; yet are there heads carried off with
the Wind and breath of such motives. I remember a Doctor in
Physick, of Italy, who could not perfectly believe the immortality of
the Soul, because Galen seemed to make a doubt thereof. With
another I was familiarly acquainted in France, a Divine, and a man
of singular parts, that on the same point was so plunged and grav-
elled with three lines of Seneca, that all our Antidotes, drawn from
both Scripture and Philosophy, could not expel the poyson of his
errour. There are a set of Heads, that can credit the relations of
Mariners, yet question the Testimonies of St. Paul; and peremptor-
ily maintain the traditions of ^lian or Pliny, yet in Histories of
Scripture raise Queries and Objections, believing no more than they
can parallel in humane" Authors. I confess there are in Scripture
Stories that do exceed the Fables of Poets, and to a captious Reader
sound like Garagantua or Bevis. Search all the Legends of times
past, and the fabulous conceits of these present, and 'twill be hard to
find one that deserves to carry the Buckler unto Sampson; yet is all
this of an easie possibility, if we conceive a Divine concourse," or
an influence but from the little Finger of the Almighty. It is im-
possible that either in the discourse of man, or in the infallible Voice
of God, to the weakness of our apprehensions, there should not
appear irregularities, contradictions, and antinomies:** my self could
shew a Catalogue of doubts, never yet imagined nor questioned, as
I know, which are not resolved at the first hearing; not fantastick
Queries or Objections of Air; for I cannot hear of Atoms in Divin-
ity. I can read the History of the Pigeon that was sent out of the
Ark, and returned no more, yet not question how she found out
her Mate that was left behind: that Lazarus was raised from the
dead, yet not demand where in the interim his Soul awaited; or
*' Human. ^Cooperation. "Contradictions of natural law.

274 THOMAS BROWNE

raise a Lawcase, whether his Heir might lawfully detain his inheri-
tance bequeathed unto him by his death, and he, though restored to
life, have no Plea or Title unto his former possessions. Whether
Eve was framed out of the left side of Adam, I dispute not; because
I stand not yet assured which is the right side of a man, or whether
there be any such distinction in Nature: that she was edified out
of the Rib of Adam I believe, yet raise no question who shall
arise with that Rib at the Resurrection. Whether Adam was an
Hermaphrodite, as the Rabbins contend upon the Letter of the
Text, because it is contrary to reason, there should be an Herma-
phrodite before there was a Woman, or a composition of two Na-
tures before there was a second composed. Likewise, whether the
World was created in Autumn, Summer, or the Spring, because it
was created in them all; for whatsoever Sign the Sun possesseth,
those four Seasons are actually existent. It is the nature of this
Luminary to distinguish the several Seasons of the year, all which it
makes at one time in the whole Earth, and successive in any part
thereof. There are a bundle of curiosities, not only in Philosophy,
but in Divinity, proposed and discussed by men of most supposed
abilities, which indeed are not worthy our vacant hours, much less
our serious Studies: Pieces only fit to be placed in Pantagruel's
Library, or bound up with Tartaretus De modo Cacandi!"

XXIL These are niceties that become not those that peruse
so serious a Mystery. There are others more generally questioned
and called to the Bar, yet methinks of an easie and possible
truth.

Tis ridiculous to put off or drown the general Flood of Noah in
that particular inundation of Deucalion. That there was a Deluge
once, seems not to me so great a Miracle, as that there is not one
always. How all the kinds of Creatures, not only in their own bulks,
but with a competency of food and sustenance, might be preserved
in one Ark, and within the extent of three hundred Cubits, to a
reason that rightly examines it will appear very feasible. There is
another secret, not contained in the Scripture, which is more hard
to comprehend, and put the honest Father*' to the refuge of a

**Tbe title of an imaginary book in the list fnvcn by Rabelais in his "Paotagniel."

" Sl Augustine.

RELIGIO MEDICI 275

Miracle; and that is, not only how the distinrt pieces of the World
and divided Islands, should be first planted by men, but inhabited
by Tigers, Panthers, and Bears. How America abounded with
Beasts of prey and noxious Animals, yet contained not in it that
necessary Creature, a Horse, is very strange. By what passage those,
not only Birds, but dangerous and unwelcome Beasts, came over;
how there be Creatures there, which are not found in this Triple
Continent; (all which must needs be strange unto us, that hold
but one Ark, and that the Creatures began their progress from the
Mountains of Ararat:) they who, to salve this, would make the
Deluge particular, proceed upon a principle that I can no way grant;
not only upon the negative of Holy Scriptures, but of mine own
Reason, whereby I can make it probable, that the World was as
well peopled in the time of Noah as in ours; and fifteen hundred
years to people the World, as full a time for them, as four thousand
years since have been to us.

There are other assertions and common Tencnts drawn from
Scripture, and generally believed as Scripture, whereunto, notwith-
standing, I would never betray the liberty of my Reason. 'Tis a
Postulate to me, that Methusalem was the longest liv'd of all the
Children of Adam; and no man will be able to prove it, when, from
the process of the Text, I can manifest it may be otherwise. That
Judas perished by hanging himself, there is no certainty in Scrip-
ture: though in one place it seems to affirm it, and by a doubtful
word hath given occasion to translate it; yet in another place, in a
more punctual description, it makes it improbable, and seems to
overthrow it. That our Fathers, after the Flood, erected the Tower
of Babel to preserve themselves against a second Deluge, is gener-
ally opinioned and believed; yet is there another intention of theirs
expressed in Scripture: besides, it is improbable from the circum-
stances of the place, that is, a plain in the Land of Shinar. These
are no points of Faith, and therefore may admit a free dispute.

There are yet others, and those familiarly concluded from the
text, wherein (under favour,) I see no consequence. The Church
of Rome confidently proves the opinion of Tutelary Angels from
that Answer, when Peter knockt at the Door, 'Tis not he, but his
Angel; that is (might some say,) his Messenger, or some body from

276 THOMAS BROWNE

him; for so the Original signifies, and is as Ukely to be the doubtful
Families meaning. This exposition I once suggested to a young
Divine, that answered upon this point; to which I remember the
Franciscan Opponent replyed no more, but That it was a new, and
no authenticl{ interpretation.

XXIII. These are but the conclusions and fallible discourses of
man upon the Word of God, for such I do believe the Holy Scrip-
tures: yet, were it of man, I could not chuse but say, it was the
singularest and superlative piece that hath been extant since the
Creation. Were I a Pagan, I should not refrain the Lecture" of
it; and cannot but commend the judgment of Ptolomy," and
thought not his Library compleat without it. The Alcoran of the
Turks (I speak without prejudice,) is an ill composed Piece, con-
taining in vain and ridiculous Errors in Philosophy, impossibilities,
fictions, and vanities beyond laughter, maintained by evident and
open Sophisms, the Policy of Ignorance, deposition of Universities,
and banishment of Learning, that hath gotten Foot by Arms and
violence: this without a blow hath disseminated it self through the
whole Earth. It is not unremarkable what Philo first observed, that
the Law of Moses continued two thousand years without the least
alteration; whereas, we see the Laws of other Common-weals do
alter with occasions; and even those that pretended their original
from some Divinity, to have vanished without trace or memory. I
believe, besides Zoroaster, there were divers that writ before Moses,
who, notwithstanding, have suffered the common fate of time.
Mens Works have an age like themselves; and though they out-live
their Authors, yet have they a stint" and period to their duration:
this only is a work too hard for the teeth of time, and cannot perish
but in the general Flames, when all things shall confess their Ashes.

XXIV. I have heard some with deep sighs lament the lost lines of
Cicero; others with as many groans deplore the combustion of the
Library of Alexandria: for my own part, I think there be too many in
the World, and could with patience behold the urn and ashes of
the Vatican, could I, with a few others, recover the perished leaves
of Solomon. I would not omit a copy of Enoch's Pillars," had they

'* Reading. " King of Egypt. *• Limit.

" Josephus says that the descendants of Seth erected two pillars on which all
human inventions so far made were engraved.

RELIGIO MEDICI 277

many nearer Authors than Josephus, or did not relish somewhat
of the Fable. Some men have written more than others have spoken;
Pineda" quotes more Authors in one work, than are necessary in
a whole World. Of those three great inventions" in Germany, there
are two which are not without their incommodities, and 'tis dis-
putable whether they exceed not their use and commodities. 'Tis
not a melancholy Utinam^ of my own, but the desires of better
heads, that there were a general Synod; not to unite the incompati-
ble difference of Religion, but for the benefit of learning, to reduce it
as it lay at first, in a few and solid Authors; and to condemn to the
fire those swarms and millions of Rhapsodies, begotten only to
distract and abuse the weaker judgements of Scholars, and to main-
tain the trade and mystery of Typographers.

XXV. I cannot but wonder with what exception the Samaritans
could confine their belief to the Pentateuch, or five Books of Moses.
I am ashamed at the Rabbinical Interpretation of the Jews upon
the Old Testament, as much as their defection from the New: and
truly it is beyond wonder, how that contemptible and degenerate
issue of Jacob, once so devoted to Ethnick'* Superstition, and so
easily seduced to the Idolatry of their Neighbours, should now in
such an obstinate and peremptory belief adhere unto their own
Doctrine, expect impossibilities, and, in the face and eye of the
Church, persist without the least hope of Conversion. This is a
vice in them, that were a vertue in us; for obstinacy in a bad Cause
is but constancy in a good. And herein I must accuse those of my
own Religion, for there is not any of such a fugitive Faith, such an
unstable belief, as a Christian; none that do so oft transform them-
selves, not unto several shapes of Christianity and of the same Spe-
cies, but unto more unnatural and contrary Forms of Jew and Ma-
hometan; that, from the name of Saviour, can condescend to the
bare term of Prophet; and, from an old belief that He is come, fall
to a new expectation of His coming. It is the promise of Christ
to make us all one Flock; but how and when this Union shall be,
is as obscure to me as the last day. Of those four Members of Re-
ligion" we hold a slender profxirtion. There are, I confess, some

** Juan de Pineda published his "Monarchia Ecdesiastica" in 1588.
" One MS. explains these as guns, printing, and the mariner's compass. " Latin,
would that! ''Gentile. '" Pagans, Mohammedans, Jews, and Christians.

278 THOMAS BROWNE

new additions, yet small to those which accrew to our Adversaries,
and those only drawn from the revolt of Pagans, men but of nega-
tive Impieties, and such as deny Christ, but because they never
heard of Him. But the Religion of the Jew is expresly against the
Christian, and the Mahometan against both. For the Turk, in the
bulk he now stands, he is beyond all hope of conversion; if he fall
asunder, there may be conceived hopes, but not without strong im-
probabilities. The Jew is obstinate in all fortunes; the persecution
of fifteen hundred years hath but confirmed them in their Errour:
they have already endured whatsoever may be inflicted, and have
suffered in a bad cause, even to the condemnation of their enemies.
Persecution is a bad and indirect way to plant Religion: it hath
been the unhappy method of angry Devotions," not only to confirm
honest Religion, but wicked Heresies, and extravagant Opinions.
It was the first stone and Basis of our Faith; none can more justly
boast of Persecutions, and glory in the number and valour of Mar-
tyrs. For, to speak properly, those are true and almost only exam-
ples of fortitude: those that are fetch'd from the field, or drawn
from the actions of the Camp, are not oft-times so truely precedents
of valour as audacity, and at the best attain but to some bastard
piece of fortitude. If we shall strictly examine the circumstances
and requisites which Aristode requires to true and perfect valour,
we shall find the name only in his Master, Alexander, and as litde
in that Roman Worthy, Julius Caesar; and if any in that easie and
active way have done so nobly as to deserve that name, yet in the
passive and more terrible piece these have surpassed, and in a more
heroical way may claim the honour of that Tide. 'Tis not in the
power of every honest Faith to proceed thus far, or pass to Heaven
through the flames. Every one hath it not in that full measure, nor
in so audacious and resolute a temper, as to endure those terrible
tests and trials; who, notwithstanding, in a peaceable way, do truely
adore their Saviour, and have (no doubt,) a Faith acceptable in the
eyes of God.

XXVI. Now, as all that dye in the War are not termed SouldUrs;
so neither can I properly term all those that suffer in matters of
Religion, Martyrs. The Council of Constance condemns John Huss

" Devotees.

RELIGIO MEDICI 279

for an Heretick; the Stories of his own Party stile him a Martyr:
he must needs offend the Divinity of both, that says he was neither
the one nor the other. There are many (questionless), canonized
on earth, that shall never be Saints in Heaven; and have their names
in Histories and Martyrologies, who in the eyes of God are not so
perfect Martyrs as was that wise Heathen, Socrates, that suffered
on a fundamental point of Religion, the unity of God. I have often
pitied the miserable Bishop" that suffered in the cause of Antipodes;
yet cannot chuse but accuse him of as much madness, for exposing
his living on such a trifle, as those of ignorance and folly, that con-
demned him. I think my conscience will not give me the lye, if I
say there are not many extant that in a noble way fear the face of
death less than myself; yet, from the moral duty I owe to the Com-
mandment of God, and the natural respects that I tender unto the
conservation of my essence and being, I would not perish upon a
Ceremony, Politick points, or indifferency: nor is my belief of that
untractible temper, as not to bow at their obstacles, or connive at
matters wherein there are not manifest impieties. The leaven, there-
fore, and ferment of all, not only civil but Religious actions, is Wis-
dom; without which, to commit our selves to the flames is Homi-
cide, and (I fear,) but to pass through one fire into another.

XXVII. That Miracles are ceased, I can neither prove, nor abso-
lutely deny, much less define the time and period of their cessa-
tion. That they survived Christ, is manifest upon the Record of
Scripture; that they out-lived the Apostles also, and were revived at
the Conversion of Nations many years after, we cannot deny, if we
shall not question those Writers whose testimonies we do not contro-
vert in points that make for our own opinions. Therefore that may
have some truth in it that is reported by the Jesuites of their Miracles
in the Indies; I could wish it were true, or had any other testimony
than their own Pens. They may easily believe those Miracles abroad,
who daily conceive a greater at home, the transmutation of those
visible elements into the Body and Blood of our Saviour. For the
conversion of Water into Wine, which He wrought in Cana, or,
what the Devil would have had Him done in the Wilderness, of

** Virgilius, Bishop of Salzburg in the 8th century, was said to have asserted the
existence of the Antipodes.

28o THOMAS BROWNE

Stones into Bread, compared to this, will scarce deserve the name
of a Miracle: though indeed, to speak properly, there is not one
Miracle greater than another, they being the extraordinary effects of
the Hand of God, to which all things are of an equal facility; and
to create the World, as easie as one single Creature. For this is also
a Miracle, not onely to produce effects against or above Nature, but
before Nature; and to create Nature, as great a Miracle as to con-
tradict or transcend her. We do too narrowly define the Power of
God, restraining it to our capacities. I hold that God can do all
things; how He should work contradictions, I do not understand,
yet dare not therefore deny. I cannot see why the Angel of God
should question Esdras to recal the time past, if it were beyond
His own power; or that God should pose mortality in that which
He was not able to perform Himself. I will not say God cannot,
but He will not, perform many things, which we plainly affirm He
cannot. This, I am sure, is the mannerliest proposition, wherein,
notwithstanding, I hold no Paradox; for, stricdy. His power is the
same with His will, and they both, with all the rest, do make but
one God.

XXVIII. Therefore that Miracles have been, I do believe; that
they may yet be wrought by the living, I do not deny; but have no
confidence in those which are fathered on the dead. And this hath
ever made me suspect the efficacy of reliques, to examine the bones,
question the habits and appurtenances of Saints, and even of Christ
Himself. I cannot conceive why the Cross that Helena found, and
whereon Christ Himself dyed, should have power to restore others
unto life. I excuse not Constantine from a fall off his Horse, or a
mischief from his enemies, upon the wearing those nails on his
bridle, which our Saviour bore upon the Cross in His Hands. I
compute among your Pia frattdes," nor many degrees before conse-
crated Swords and Roses, that which Baldwyn, King of Jerusalem,
returned the Genovese for their cost and pains in his War, to wit,
the ashes of John the Baptist. Those that hold the sanctity of their
Souls doth leave behind a tincture and sacred faculty on their bodies,
speak naturally of Miracles, and do not salve the doubt. Now one
reason I tender so little Devotion unto Reliques, is, I think, the

•* Pious frauds.

RELIGIO MEDICI 28 1

slender and doubtful respect I have always held unto Antiquities.
For that indeed which I admire, is far before Antiquity, that is.
Eternity; and that is, God Himself; Who, though He be styled the
Ancient of Days, cannot receive the adjunct of Antiquity; Who was
before the World, and shall be after it, yet is not older than it; for in
His years there is no Climacter;" His duration is Eternity, and far
more venerable than Antiquity.

XXIX. But above all things I wonder how the curiosity of wiser
heads could pass that great and indisputable Miracle, the cessation
of Oracles; and in what swoun their Reasons lay, to content them-
selves and sit down with such a far-fetch'd and ridiculous reason as
Plutarch alleadgeth for it. The Jews, that can believe the super-
natural Solstice of the Sun in the days of Joshua, have yet the im-
pudence to deny the Eclipse, which every Pagan confessed, at His
death: but for this, it is evident beyond all contradiction, the Devil
himself confessed it." Certainly it is not a warrantable curiosity, to
examine the verity of Scripture by the concordance of humane his-
tory, or to seek to confirm the Chronicle of Hester or Daniel, by
the authority of Megasthenes or Herodotus. I confess, I have had
an unhappy curiosity this way, till I laughed my self out of it with
a piece of Justine, where he delivers that the Children of Israel for
being scabbed were banished out of Egypt. And truely since I have
understood the occurrences of the World, and know in what coun-
terfeit shapes and deceitful vizards times present represent on the
stage things past, I do believe them little more then things to come.
Some have been of my opinion, and endeavoured to write the His-
tory of their own lives; wherein Moses hath outgone them all and
left not onely the story of his life, but (as some will have it,) of his
death also.

XXX. It is a riddle to me, how this story of Oracles hath not
worm'd out of the World that doubtful conceit of Spirits and
Witches; how so many learned heads should so far forget their
Metaphysicks, and destroy the ladder and scale of creatures, as to
question the existence of Spirits. For my part, I have ever believed,
and do now know, that there are Witches: they that doubt of these,

*• The point in a man's life when his powers begin to decay.
•* "In his oracle to Augustus." — T. B.

282 THOMAS BROWNE

do not onely deny them, but Spirits; and are obliquely and upon
consequence a sort not of Infidels, but Atheists. Those that to con-
fute their incredulity desire to see apparitions, shall questionless
never behold any, nor have the power to be so much as Witches;
the Devil hath them already in a heresie as capital as Witchcraft;
and to appear to them, were but to convert them. Of all the de-
lusions wherewith he deceives morality, there is not any that puz-
zleth me more than the Legerdemain of Changelings. I do not
credit those transformations of reasonable creatures into beasts, or
that the Devil hath a power to transpeciate" a man into a Horse,
who tempted Christ (as a trial of His Divinity,) to convert but
stones into bread. I could believe that Spirits use with man the act
of carnality, and that in both sexes; I conceive they may assume,
steal, or contrive a body, wherein there may be action enough to
content decrepit lust, or passion to satisfie more active veneries;"
yet, in both, without a possibility of generation: and therefore that
opinion that Antichrist should be born of the Tribe of Dan by
conjunction with the Divil, is ridiculous, and a conceit fitter for a
Rabbin than a Christian. I hold that the Devil doth really possess
some men, the spirit of Melancholy others, the spirit of Delusion
others; that, as the Devil is concealed and denyed by some, so God
and good Angels are pretended by others, whereof die late defec-
tion" of the Maid of Germany hath left a pregnant example.

XXXI. Again, I believe that all that use sorceries, incantations,
and spells, are not Witches, or, as we term them. Magicians. I
conceive there is a traditional Magick, not learned immediately
from the Devil, but at second hand from his Scholars, who, having
once the secret betrayed, are able, and do emperically practise with-
out his advice, they both proceeding upon the principles of Nature;
where actives, aptly conjoyned to disposed passives, will under any
Master produce their effects. Thus I think at first a great part of
Philosophy was Witchcraft; which, being afterward derived to one
another, proved but Philosophy, and was indeed no more but the
honest effects of Nature : what, invented by us, is Philosophy, learned
from him, is Magick. We do surely owe the discovery of many se-

"^ Transform. " Sexual desires.

^ MS. copies read "detection." The allusion hat not been explained.

RELIGIO MEDICI 283

crets to the discovery of good and bad Angels. I could never pass
that sentence of Paracelsus without an asterisk or annotation; As-
cendens constellatum multa revelat qticerentibus magnalia nattirce,
(i. e. opera Dei.)" [The ascending constellation reveals to inquirers
many of nature's great things.] I do think that many mysteries
ascribed to our own inventions have been the courteous revelations
of Spirits; (for those noble essences in Heaven bear a friendly re-
gard unto their fellow Natures on Earth;) and therefore believe
that those many prodigies and ominous prognosticks, which fore-
run the ruines of States, Princes, and private persons, are the chari-
table premonitions of good Angels, which more careless enquiries
term but the effects of chance and nature.

XXXII. Now, besides these particular and divided Spirits, there
may be (for ought I know,) an universal and common Spirit to
the whole World. It was the opinion of Plato, and it is yet of the
Hermetical Philosophers. If there be a common nature that imites
and tyes the scattered and divided individuals into one species, why
may there not be one that unites them all? However, I am sure
there is a common Spirit that plays within us, yet makes no part
of us; and that is, the Spirit of God, the fire and scintillation of that
noble and mighty Essence, which is the life and radical heat of
Spirits, and those essences that know not the vertue of the Sun; a
fire quite contrary to the fire of Hell. This is that gentle heat that
brooded on the waters, and in six days hatched the World; this is
that irradiation that dispels the mists of Hell, the clouds of horrour,
fear, sorrow, despair; and preserves the region of the mind in se-
renity. Whosoever feels not the warm gale and gentle ventilation
of this Spirit, though I feel his pulse, I dare not say he lives: for
truely, without this, to me there is no heat under the Tropick; nor
any light, though I dwelt in the body of the Sun.

As, when the labouring Sun hath wrought his track
Up to the top of lofty Cancers back.
The ycie Ocean cracks, the frozen pole
Thaws with the heat of the Celestial coale;
So, when Thy absent beams begin t' impart
Again a Solstice on my frozen heart,

•• "Thereby is meant our good angel appointed us from our nativity!" — T. B.

284 THOMAS BROWNE

My winter's ov'r, my dropping spirits sing.

And every part revives into a Spring.

But if Thy quickning beams a while decline,

And with their light bless not this Orb of mine,

A chilly frost surpriseth every member.

And in the midst of June I feel December.

O how this earthly temper doth debase

The noble Soul, in this her humble place;

Whose wingy nature ever doth aspire

To reach that place whence first it took its fire.

These flames I feel, which in my heart do dwell.

Are not Thy beams, but take their fire from Hell:

O quench them all, and let Thy Light divine

Be as the Sun to this poor Orb of mine;

And to Thy sacred Spirit convert those fires.

Whose earthly fumes choak my devout aspires.

XXXIII. Therefore for Spirits, I am so far from denying their
existence, that I could easily believe, that not onely whole Coun-
tries, but particular persons, have their Tutelary and Guardian
Angels. It is not a new opinion of the Church of Rome, but an
old one of Pythagoras and Plato; there is no heresie in it; and if
not manifestly defin'd in Scripture, yet is it an opinion of a good
and wholesome use in the course and actions of a mans life, and
would serve as an Hypothesis to salve many doubts, whereof com-
mon Philosophy aflordeth no solution. Now, if you demand my
opinion and Metaphysicks of their natures, I confess them very
shallow; most of them in a negative way, like that of God; or in a
comparative, between ourselves and fellow-creatures; for there is
in this Universe a Stair, or manifest Scale of creatures, rising not
disorderly, or in confusion, but with a comely method and propor-
tion. Between creatures of meer existence, and things of life, there
is a large disproportion of nature; between plants, and animals or
creatures of sense, a wider difference; between them and Man, a
far greater: and if the proportion hold one, between Man and
Angels there should be yet a greater. We do not comprehend their
natures, who retain the first definition of Porphyry, and distinguish
them from our selves by immortality; for before his Fall, 'tis thought,
Man also was Immortal; yet must we needs affirm that he had a
different essence from the Angels. Having therefore no certain

RELIGIO MEDICI 285

knowledge of their Natures, 'tis no bad method of the Schools, what-
soever perfection we find obscurely in our selves, in a more compleat
and absolute way to ascribe unto them. I believe they have an ex-
temporary knowledge, and upon the first motion of their reason
do what we cannot without study or deliberation; that they know
things by their forms, and define by specifical difference what we
describe by accidents and properties; and therefore probabilities to
us may be demonstrations unto them: that they have knowledge
not onely of the specifical, but numerical forms of individuals, and
understand by what reserved difference each single Hypostasis" (be-
sides the relation to its species,) becomes its numerical self: that,
as the Soul hath a power to move the body it informs, so there's a
faculty to move any, though inform none: ours upon restraint of
time, place, and distance; but that invisible hand that conveyed
Habakkuk to the Lyons Den," or Philip to Azotus," infringeth this
rule, and hath a secret conveyance, wherewith mortality is not ac-
quainted. If they have that intuitive knowledge, whereby as in re-
flexion they behold the thoughts of one another, I cannot peremp-
torily deny but they know a great part of ours. They that, to refute
the Invocation of Saints, have denied that they have any knowledge
of our affairs below, have proceeded too far, and must pardon my
opinion, till I can thoroughly answer that piece of Scripture, At
the conversion of a sinner the Angels in Heaven rejoyce. I cannot,
with those in that great Father," securely interpret the work of the
first day. Fiat lux, [Let there be light] to the creation of Angels;
though I confess, there is not any creature'* that hath so neer a
glympse of their nature as light in the Sun and Elements. We
stile it a bare accident; but, where it subsists alone, 'tis a spiritual
Substance, and may be an Angel: in brief, conceive light invisible,
and that is a Spirit.

XXXIV. These are certainly the Magisterial and masterpieces of
the Creator, the Flower, or (as we may say,) the best part of
nothing; actually existing, what we are but in hopes and probability.
We are onely that amphibious piece between a corporal and spiritual
Essence, that middle form that links those two together, and makes

™ Distinct substance. " Bel and the Dragon, 36. ^ Acts viii. 40.

'• The idea is found in both St. Chrysostom and St. Augustine. '* Created thing.

286 THOMAS BROWNE

good the Method of God and Nature, that jumps not from extreams,
but unites the incompatible distances by some middle and partici-
pating natures. That we are the breath and similitude of God, it
is indisputable, and upon record of Holy Scripture; but to call our-
selves a Microcosm, or little World, I thought it only a pleasant trope
of Rhetorick, till my neer judgement and second thoughts told me
there was a real truth therein. For first we are a rude mass, and
in the rank of creatures which onely are, and have a dull kind of
being, not yet priviledged with life, or preferred to sense or reason;
next we live the life of Plants, the life of Animals, the life of Men,
and at last the life of Spirits, running on in one mysterious nature
those five kinds of existences, which comprehend the creatures not
onely of the World, but of the Universe. Thus is Man that great
and true Amphibium, whose nature is disposed to live, not onely
like other creatures in divers elements, but in divided and distin-
guished worlds: for though there be but one to sense, there are two
to reason, the one visible, the other invisible; whereof Moses seems
to have left description, and of the other so obscurely, that some
parts thereof are yet in controversie. And truely, for the first chaf>-
ters of Genesis, I must confess a great deal of obscurity; though Di-
vines have to the pwwer of humane reason endeavoured to make all
go in a literal meaning, yet those allegorical interpretations are also
probable, and perhaps the mystical method of Moses bred up in the
Hieroglyphical Schools of the Egyptians.

XXXV. Now for that immaterial world, methinks we need not
wander so far as beyond the first moveable;" for even in this ma-
terial Fabrick the Spirits walk as freely exempt from the affection of
time, place, and motion, as beyond the extreamest circumference.
Do but extract from the corpulency of bodies, or resolve things be-
yond their first matter, and you discover the habitation of Angels,
which if I call the ubiquitary and omnipresent Essence of God, I
hope I shall not offend Divinity: for before the Creation of the
World God was really all things. For the Angels He created no
new World, or determinate mansion, and therefore they are every-
where where is His Essence, and do live at a distance even in Him-
self. That God made all things for Man, is in some sense true, yet
'^ Primum mobile, the tenth sphere of the old astronomy.

RELIGIO MEDICI 287

not so far as to subordinate the Creation of those purer Creatures
unto ours, though as ministring Spirits they do, and are wiUing to
fulfill the will of God in these lower and sublunary affairs of Man.
God made all things for Himself, and it is impossible He should
make them for any other end than His own Glory; it is all He
can receive, and all that is without Himself. For, honour being an
external adjunct, and in the honourer rather than in the person
honoured, it was necessary to make a Creature, from whom He
might receive this homage; and that is, in the other world. Angels,
in this, Man; which when we neglect, we forget the very end of
our Creation, and may justly provoke God, not onely to repent that
He hath made the World, but that He hath sworn He would not
destroy it. That there is but one World, is a conclusion of Faith:
Aristotle with all his Philosophy hath not been able to prove it,
and as weakly that the World was eternal. That dispute much
troubled the Pen of the ancient Philosophers, but Moses decided that
question, and all is salved with the new term of a Creation, that
is, a production of something out of nothing. And what is that?
whatsoever is opf)osite to something; or more exactly, that which
is truely contrary unto God: for He onely is, all others have an
existence with dependency, and are something but by a distinction.
And herein is Divinity conformant unto Philosophy, and genera-
tion not onely founded on contrarieties, but also creation; God, being
all things, is contrary unto nothing, out of which were made all
things, and so nothing became something, and Omneity informed
Nullity into an Essence.

XXXVI. The whole Creation is a mystery, and particularly that
of Man. At the blast of His mouth were the rest of the Creatures
made, and at His bare word they started out of nothing: but in the
frame of Man (as the Text describes it,) He played the sensible
operator, and seemed not so much to create, as make him. When
He had separated the materials of other creatures, there conse-
quently resulted a form and soul; but, having raised the walls of
Man, He was driven to a second and harder creation of a sub-
stance like Himself, an incorruptible and immortal Soul. For these
two affections'" we have the Philosophy and opinion of the Heath-

"' Qualities.

288 THOMAS BROWNE

ens, the flat afiirmative of Plato, and not a negative from Aristotle.
There is another scruple cast in by Divinity concerning its produc-
tion, much disputed in the Germane auditories, and with that in-
differency and equality of arguments, as leave the controversie un-
determined. I am not of Paracelsus mind, that boldly delivers a
receipt to make a man without conjunction;'^ yet cannot but won-
der at the multitude of heads that do deny traduction," having no
other argument to confirm their belief then that Rhetorical sen-
tence and Antimetathesis'^ of Augustine, Creando injunditur, in-
jundendo creatur. [By creating it is poured in, by pouring in it is
created.] Either opinion will consist well enough with Religion:
yet 1 should rather incline to this, did not one objection haunt me,
(not wrung from speculations and subtikies, but from common sense
and observation; not pickt from the leaves of any Author, but bred
amongst the weeds and tares of mine own brain;) and this is a
conclusion from the equivocal and monstrous productions in the
conjunction of Man with Beast: for if the Soul of man be not
transmitted and transfused in the seed of the Parents, why are not
those productions meerly beasts, but have also an impression and
tincture of reason in as high a measure as it can evidence it self
in those improper Organs? Nor, truely, can I peremptorily deny
that the Soul, in this her sublunary estate, is wholly and in all ac-
ceptions" inorganical; but that for the performance of her ordinary
actions there is required not onely a symmetry and proper disposi-
tion of Organs, but a Crasis" and temper correspondent to its opera-
tions: yet is not this mass of flesh and visible structure the instru-
ment and proper corps of the Soul, but rather of Sense, and <hat
the hand of Reason. In our study of Anatomy there is a mass of
mysterious Philosophy, and such as reduced the very Heathens to
Divinity: yet, amongst all those rare discoveries and curious pieces
I find in the Fabrick of Man, I do not so much content my self, as
in that I find not, there is no Organ or Instrument for the rational
Soul; for in the brain, which we term the seat of Reason, there is
not anything of moment more than I can discover in the crany"

^Sexual intercourse. ^'Derivation (of the soul from the parents).
^Tbe giving of two different meanings from two different artangemeiUs of the
same words. ^Acceptations. "Constitution. ^ Skull.

RELIGIO MEDICI 289

o£ a beast: and this is a sensible and no inconsiderable argument
of the inorganity of the Soul, at least in that sense we usually so
receive it. Thus we are men, and we know not how: there is some-
thing in us that can be without us, and will be after us; though it
is strange that it hath no history what it was before us, nor cannot
tell how it entred in us.

XXXVII. Now, for these walls of flesh, wherein the Soul doth
seem to be immured before the Resurrection, it is nothing but an
elemental composition, and a Fabrick that must fall to ashes. All
flesh is grass, is not onely metaphorically, but litterally, true; for
all those creatures we behold are but the herbs of the field, digested
into flesh in them, or more remotely carnified" in our selves. Nay
further, we are what we all abhor, Anthropophagi and Cannibals,
devourers not onely of men, but of our selves; and that not in an
allegory, but a positive truth: for all this mass of flesh which we be-
hold, came in at our mouths; this frame we look upon, hath been
upon our trenchers; in brief, we have devour'd our selves. I cannot
believe the wisdom of Pythagoras did ever positively, and in a lit-
eral sense, affirm his Metempsychosis, or impossible transmigration
of the Souls of men into beasts. Of all Metamorphoses or transmi-
grations, I believe only one, that is of Lots wife; for that of Ne-
buchodonosor proceeded not so far: in all others I conceive there is
no further verity than is contained in their implicite sense and
morality. I believe that the whole frame of a beast doth perish, and
is left in the same state after death as before it was materialled unto
life: that the Souls of men know neither contrary nor corruption;
that they subsist beyond the body, and outlive death by the privi-
ledge of their proper natures, and without a Miracle; that the Souls
of the faithful, as they leave Earth, take possession of Heaven: that
those apparitions and ghosts of departed persons are not the wan-
dring souls of men, but the unquiet walks of Devils, prompting and
suggesting us unto mischief, blood, and villany; instilling and steal-
ing into our hearts that the blessed Spirits are not at rest in their
graves, but wander soUicitous of the affairs of the World. But that
those phantasms appear often, and do frequent Ccemeteries, Charnel-

"Made flesh.

290 THOMAS BROWNE

houses, and Churches, it is because those are the dormitories of the
dead, where the Devil, Hke an insolent Champion, beholds with
pride the spoils and Trophies of his Victory over Adam.

XXXVIII. This is that dismal conquest we all deplore, that makes
us so often cry, O Adam, quid fecisti? [O Adam, what hast thou
done?] I thank God I have not those strait ligaments, or narrow
obligations to the World, as to dote on life, or be convulst and
tremble at the name of death. Not that I am insensible of the dread
and horrour thereof; or by raking into the bowels of the deceased,
continual sight of Anatomies, Skeletons, or Cadaverous reliques,
like Vespilloes,** or Grave-makers, I am become stupid, or have for-
got the apprehension of Mortality; but that, marshalling all the
horrours, and contemplating the extremities thereof, I find not any
thing therein able to daunt the courage of a man, much less a well-
resolved Christian; and therefore am not angry at the errour of our
first Parents, or unwilling to bear a part of this common fate, and
like the best of them to dye, that is, to cease to breathe, to take a
farewel of the elements, to be a kind of nothing for a moment, to
be within one instant of a Spirit. When I take a full view and
circle of my self without this reasonable moderator, and equal piece
of Justice, Death, I do conceive my self the miserablest person ex-
tant. Were there not another life that I hope for, all the vanities of
this World should not intreat a moments breath from me; could the
Devil work my belief to imagine I could never dye, I would not
outlive that very thought. I have so abject a conceit" of this com-
mon way of existence, this retaining to the Sun and Elements, I
cannot think this is to be a Man, or to live according to the dignity
of humanity. In exspectation of a better, I can with patience em-
brace this life, yet in my best meditations do often defie death; I
honour any man that contemns it, nor can I highly love any that
is afraid of it: this makes me naturally love a Souldier, and honour
those tattered and contemptible Regiments that will die at the com-
mand of a Sergeant. For a Pagan there may be some motives to be
in love with life; but for a Christian to be amazed at death, I see
not how he can escape this Dilemma, that he is too sensible of this
life, or hopeless of the life to come.

M Latin, corpse-bearers. *' Idea.

RELIGIO MEDICI 29 1

XXXIX- Some Divines count Adam thirty years old at his Crea-
tion, because they suppose him created in the perfect age and stat-
ure of man. And surely we are all out of the computation of our
age, and every man is some months elder than he bethinks him;
for we live, move, have a being, and are subject to the actions of
the elements, and the malice of diseases, in that other World, the
truest Microcosm, the Womb of our Mother. For besides that gen-
eral and common existence we are conceived to hold in our Chaos,
and whilst we sleep within the bosome of our causes, we enjoy a
being and life in three distinct worlds, wherein we receive most
manifest graduations. In that obscure World and Womb of our
Mother, our time is short, computed by the Moon, yet longer then
the days of many creatures that behold the Sun; our selves being
not yet without life, sense, and reason; though for the manifesta-
tion of its actions, it awaits the opportunity of objects, and seems to
live there but in its root and soul of vegetation. Entring afterwards
upon the scene of the World, we arise up and become another crea-
ture, performing the reasonable actions of man, and obscurely mani-
festing that part of Divinity in us; but not in complement" and per-
fection, till we have once more cast our secondine," that is, this
slough of flesh, and are delivered into the last World, that is, that
ineffable place of Paul, that proper ub?^ of Spirits. The smattering
I have of the Philosophers Stone (which is something more than
the perfect exaltation of gold,) hath taught me a great deal of Di-
vinity, and instructed my belief, how that immortal spirit and in-
corruptible substance of my Soul may lye obscure, and sleep a while
within this house of flesh. Those strange and mystical transmigra-
tions that I have observed in Silk-worms, turned my Philosophy into
Divinity. There is in these works of nature, which seem to puzzle
reason, something Divine, and hath more in it then the eye of a
common spectator doth discover.

XL. I am naturally bashful; nor hath conversation, age, or travel,
been able to effront'" or enhardcn me; yet I have one part of mod-
esty which I have seldom discovered in another, that is, (to speak
truely,) I am not so much afraid of death, as ashamed thereof. Tis

** Completeness. " After-birth. •* Dwelling-place.
^' Embolden.

292 THOMAS BROWNE

the very disgrace and ignominy of our natures, that in a moment
can so disfigure us, that our nearest friends, Wife, and Children,
stand afraid and start at us: the Birds and Beasts of the field, that
before in a natural fear obeyed us, forgetting all allegiance, begin
to prey upon us. This very conceit hath in a tempest disposed and
left me willing to be swallowed up in the abyss of waters, wherein
I had perished unseen, unpityed, without wondering eyes, tears of
pity, Lectures of mortality, and none had said.

Quantum mutatus ab illol
[How changed from that man!]

Not that I am ashamed of the Anatomy of my parts, or can accuse
Nature for playing the bungler in any part of me, or my own vitious
life for contracting any shameful disease upon me, whereby I might
not call my self as wholesome a morsel for the worms as any.

XLI. Some, upon the courage of a fruitful issue, wherein, as in
the truest Chronicle, they seem to oudive themselves, can with
greater patience away with death. This conceit and counterfeit sub-
sisting in our progenies seems to me a meer fallacy, unworthy the
desires of a man that can but conceive a thought of the next World;
who, in a nobler ambition, should desire to live in his substance
in Heaven, rather than his name and shadow in the earth. And
therefore at my death I mean to take a total adieu of the World,
not caring for a Monument, History or Epitaph, not so much as
the bare memory of my name to be found any where but in the uni-
versal Register of God. I am not yet so Cynical as to approve the
Testament of Diogenes,*" nor do I altogether allow that Rodotnori'
tado*^ of Lucan,

Ccclo tegitur, qui non habet umam.

He that unburied lies wants not his Herse,
For unto him a Tomb's the Universe.

but commend in my calmer judgement those ingenuous intentions

that desire to sleep by the urns of their Fathers, and strive to go

the neatest way unto corruption. I do not envy the temper of Crows

""Who willed his friend not to bury him, but to hang him up with a itiSc in
his hand to fright away the crowes." — T. B. '' Boastful utterance.

RELIGIO MEDICI 293

and Daws," nor the numerous and weary days of our Fathers before
the Flood. If there be any truth in Astrology, I may oudive a Ju-
bilee:'' as yet I have not seen one revolution of Saturn," nor hath
my pulse beat thirty years; and yet, excepting one, have seen the
Ashes and left under ground all the Kings of Europe; have been
contemporary to three Emperours, four Grand Signiours, and as
many Popes. Methinks I have outlived my self, and begin to be
weary of the Sun; I have shaken hands with delight, in my warm
blood and Canicular" days, I perceive I do anticipate the vices of
age; the World to me is but a dream or mock-show, and we all
therein but Pantalones and Anticks, to my severer contemplations.

XLII. It is not, I confess, an unlawful Prayer to desire to surpass
the days of our Saviour, or wish to outlive that age wherein He
thought fittest to dye; yet if (as Divinity affirms,) there shall be no
gray hairs in Heaven, but all shall rise in the perfect state of men,
we do but outlive those perfections in this World, to be recalled
unto them by a greater Miracle in the next, and run on here but
to be retrograde hereafter. Were there any hopes to outlive vice,
or a point to be super-annuated from sin, it were worthy our knees
to implore the days of Methuselah. But age doth not rectify, but
incurvate"* our natures, turning bad dispositions into worser habits,
and (like diseases,) brings on incurable vices; for every day as we
grow weaker in age, we grow stronger in sin, and the number of
our days doth but make our sins innumerable. The same vice com-
mitted at sixteen, is not the same, though it agree in all other cir-
cumstances, at forty, but swells and doubles from the circumstance
of our ages; wherein, besides the constant and inexcusable habit
of transgressing, the maturity of our judgement cuts off pretence
unto excuse or pardon. Every sin, the oftner it is committed, the
more it acquireth in the quality of evil; as it succeeds in time, so it
proceeds in degrees of badness; for as they proceed they ever mul-
tiply, and, like figures in Arithmetick, the last stands for more than
all that went before it. And though I think no man can live well
once, but he that could live twice, yet for my own part I would
not live over my hours past, or begin again the thread of my days:

*' These birds were supposed to live several times the length of human life.

" Fifty years. '* Thirty years.

*^ Dog-days: here, figuratively, for young manhood. '* Make crooked.

294 THOMAS BROWNE

not upon Cicero's ground, because I have lived them well, but for
fear I should live them worse. I find my growing Judgment daily
instruct me how to be better, but my untamed affections and con-
firmed vitiosity makes me daily do worse. I find in my confirmed
age the same sins I discovered in my youth; I committed many then,
because I was a Child; and because I commit them still, I am yet an
infant. Therefore I jjerceive a man may be twice a Child, before the
days of dotage; and stand in need of ^tsons Bath" before threescore.

XLIII. And truly there goes a great deal of providence to produce
a mans life unto threescore: there is more required than an able
temper for those years; though the radical humour" contain in it
sufficient oyl for seventy, yet I perceive in some it gives no light past
thirty: men assign not all the causes of long life, that write whole
Books thereof. They that found themselves on the radical balsome,"
or vital sulphur" of the parts, determine not why Abel lived not so
long as Adam. There is therefore a secret glome"" or bottom'"" of
our days: 'twas His wisdom to determine them, but His perpetual
and waking providence that fulfils and accomplisheth them; wherein
the spirits, ourselves, and all the creatures of God in a secret and dis-
puted way do execute His will. Let them not therefore complain of
immaturity that die about thirty; they fall but like the whole World,
whose solid and well<omposed substance must not expect the dura-
tion and period of its constitution: when all things are completed
in it, its age is accomplished; and the last and general fever may as
naturally destroy it before six thousand, as me before forty. There
is therefore some other hand that twines the thread of life than that
of Nature: we are not onely ignorant in Antipathies and occult
qualities; our ends are as obscure as our beginnings; the line of our
days is drawn by night, and the various effects therein by a pensil
that is invisible; wherein though we confess our ignorance, I am sure
we do not err if we say it is the hand of God.

XLIV. I am much taken with two verses of Lucan, since I have
been able not onely, as we do at School, to construe, but understand:

Victurosque Dei celant, ut vivere durent,
Felix esse mori}"^

" For restoring youth. " The moisture essential to vitality according to the old
physiology. "Supposed sources of longevity. ""Ball (o£ worsted). "" Lucan's
"Pharsalia," iv. 510.

RELIGIO MEDICI 295

We're all deluded, vainly searching ways
To make us happy by the length of days;
For cunningly to make 's protract this breath,
The Gods conceal the happiness of Death.

There be many excellent strains in that Poet, wherewith his Stoical
Genius hath liberally supplied him; and truely there are singular
pieces in the Philosophy of Zeno, and doctrine of the Stoicks, which
I perceive, delivered in a Pulpit, pass for current Divinity : yet herein
are they in extreams, that can allow a man to be his own Assassine,
and so highly extol the end and suicide of Cato. This is indeed not
to fear death, but yet to be afraid of life. It is a brave act of valour
to contemn death; but where life is more terrible than death, it is
then the truest valour to dare to live. And herein Religion hath
taught us a noble example; for all the valiant acts of Curtius,
Scevola, or Codrus, do not parallel or match that one of Job; and
sure there is no torture to the rack of a disease, nor any Ponyards in
death it self like those in the way or prologue to it.

Emori nolo, sed me esse mortuum nihil euro}"*
I would not die, but care not to be dead.

Were I of Cesar's Religion, I should be of his desires, and wish
rather to go off at one blow, then to be sawed in pieces by the grating
torture of a disease. Men that look no farther than their outsides,
think health an appurtenance unto life, and quarrel with their con-
stitutions for being sick; but I, that have examined the parts of man,
and know upon what tender filaments that Fabrick hangs, do wonder
that we are not always so; and, considering the thousand doors that
lead to death, do thank my God that we can die but once. 'Tis not
onely the mischief of diseases, and the villany of poysons, that make
an end of us; we vainly accuse the fury of Guns, and the new inven-
tions of death; it is in the power of every hand to destroy us, and
we are beholding unto every one we meet, he doth not kill us. There
is therefore but one comfort left, that, though it be in the power of
the weakest arm to take away life, it is not in the strongest to de-
prive us of death: God would not exempt Himself from that, the
misery of immortality in the flesh. He undertook not that was im-

""Quoted by Cicero, "Tusc. Quzst." i. 8, from Epicharmus.

296 THOMAS BROWNE

mortal. Certainly there is no happiness within this circle of flesh,
nor is it in the Opticks of these eyes to behold felicity. The first day
of our Jubilee is Death; the Devil hath therefore failed of his desires:
we are happier with death than we should have been without it:
there is no misery but in himself, where there is no end of misery;
and so indeed, in his own sense, the Stoick"" is in the right. He for-
gets that he can dye who complains of misery; we are in the power
of no calamity while death is in our own.

XLV. Now, besides this literal and positive kind of death, there
are others whereof Divines make mention, and those, I think, not
meerly Metaphorical, as mortification, dying unto sin and the World.
Therefore, I say, every man hath a double Horoscope, one of his
humanity, his birth; another of his Christianity, his baptism; and
from this do I compute or calculate my Nativity, not reckoning those
Horte combustce^'^ and odd days, or esteeming my self any thing,
before I was my Saviours, and inrolled in the Register of Christ.
Whosoever enjoys not this life, I count him but an apparition, though
he wear about him the sensible affections"" of flesh. In these moral
acceptions,"* the way to be immortal is to dye daily: nor can I
think I have the true Theory of death, when I contemplate a skull,
or behold a Skeleton, with those vulgar imaginations it casts upon
us; I have therefore enlarged that common Memento mori, [Re-
member you must die] into a more Christian memorandum, Me-
mento quatuor Novissima, [Remember the four last things] those
four inevitable points of us all, Death, Judgement, Heaven, and
Hell. Neither did the contemplations of the Heathens rest in their
graves, without a further thought of Rhadamanth,'"' or some judicial
proceeding after death, though in another way, and upon suggestion
of their natural reasons. I cannot but marvail from what Sibyl or
Oracle they stole the Prophesie of the Worlds destruction by fire, or
whence Lucan learned to say.

Communis mundo superest rogus, ossibus astra
Misturus."^

There yet remains to th' World one common Fire,
Wherein our bones with stars shall make one Pyre.

"" In holding that death is no evil.
'** Combust hours, "when the moon is in conjunction and obscured by the sun."
105 Qualities. "■• Acceputioiu. "" Judge in Hades. "* "Pharsalia" viL 814.

RELIGIO MEDICI 297

I believe the World grows near its end, yet is neither old nor decayed,
nor shall ever perish upon the ruines of its own Principles. As the
work of Creation was above Nature, so is its adversary, annihilation;
without which the World hath not its end, but its mutation. Now
what force should be able to consume it thus far, without the breath
of God, which is the truest consuming flame, my Philosophy cannot
inform me. Some believe there went not a minute to the Worlds
creation, nor shall there go to its destruction; those six days, so punc-
tually described, make not to them one moment, but rather seem to
manifest the method and Idea of the great work of the intellect of
God, than the manner how He proceeded in its operation. I cannot
dream that there should be at the last day any such Judicial pro-
ceeding, or calling to the Bar, as indeed the Scripture seems to imply,
and the literal Commentators do conceive: for unspeakable mysteries
in the Scriptures are often delivered in a vulgar and illustrative way;
and, being written unto man, are delivered, not as they truely are,
but as they may be understood; wherein, notwithstanding, the dif-
ferent interpretations according to different capacities may stand
firm with our devotion, nor be any way prejudicial to each single
edification.

XLVI. Now to determine the day and year of this inevitable time,
is not onely convincible"* and statute-madness,"" but also manifest
impiety. How shall we interpret Elias six thousand years,'" or
imagine the secret communicated to a Rabbi, which God hath de-
nyed unto His Angels? It had been an excellent Quaere"^ to have
posed the Devil of Delphos,"' and must needs have forced him to
some strange amphibology."* It hath not onely mocked the predic-
tions of sundry Astrologers in Ages past, but the prophesies of many
melancholy heads in these present; who, neither understanding
reasonably things past or present, pretend a knowledge of things to
come: heads ordained onely to manifest the incredible effects of
melancholy, and to fulfil old prophecies rather than be the authors
of new. In those days there shall come Wars and rumours of Wars,
to me seems no prophecy, but a constant truth, in all times verified
since it was pronounced. There shall be signs in the Moon and Stars;

""Capable of proof. ""Madness defined by law. "'The time of the exist-
ence of the world, according to a tradition ascribed to the school of Elijah in the
Talmud. "^Question. "' The oracle of Apollo. "* Ambiguity.

298 THOMAS BROWNE

how comes He then like a Thief in the night, when He gives an item
of His Coming? That common sign drawn from the revelation of
Antichrist, is as obscure as any: in our common compute He hath
been come these many years: but for my own part, (to speak freely,)
I am half of opinion that Antichrist is the Philosopher's stone in
Divinity, for the discovery and invention whereof, though there be
prescribed rules and probable inductions, yet hath hardly any man
attained the perfect discovery thereof. That general opinion that the
World grows near its end, hath possessed all ages past as nearly as
ours. I am afraid that the Souls that now depart, cannot escape
that lingring expostulation of the Saints under the Altar, Quousque,
DoMiNE? How long, O Lord? and groan in the expectation of
that great Jubilee.

XLVII. This is the day that must make good that great attribute
of God, His Justice; that must reconcile those unanswerable doubts
that torment the wisest understandings; and reduce those seeming
inequalities and respective distributions in this world, to an equality
and recompensive Justice in the next. This is that one day, that shall
include and comprehend all that went before it; wherein, as in the
last scene, all the Actors must enter, to compleat and make up the
Catastrophe of this great piece. This is the day whose memory hath
onely power to make us honest in the dark, and to be vertuous with-
out a witness.

Ipsa sui pretium virtus sibi,"*

that Vertue is her own reward, is but a cold principle, and not able
to maintain our variable resolutions in a constant and seded way of
goodness. I have practised that honest artifice of Seneca, and in my
retired and solitary imaginations, to detain me from the foulness
of vice, have fancied to my self the presence of my dear and worthi-
est friends, before whom I should lose my head, rather than be
vitious: yet herein I found that there was nought but moral honesty,
and this was not to be vertuous for His sake Who must reward us
at the last. I have tryed if I could reach that great resolution of his,
to be honest without a thought of Heaven or Hell: and indeed I
found, upon a natural inclination and inbred loyalty unto virtue,
'" CUudian. "Dc Mallii Thcod. Consul." v. i.

RELIGIO MEDICI 299

that I could serve her without a livery,'" yet not in that resolved
and venerable way, but that the frailty of my nature, upon an easie
temptation, might be induced to forget her. The life, therefore, and
spirit of all our actions is the resurrection, and a stable apprehension
that our ashes shall enjoy the fruit of our pious endeavours: with-
out this, all Religion is a Fallacy, and those impieties of Lucian,
Euripides, and Julian, are no blasphemies, but subde verities, and
Atheists have been the onely Philosophers.

XLVIII. How shall the dead arise, is no question of my Faith; to
believe only p)ossibilities, is not Faith, but meer Philosophy. Many
things are true in Divinity, which are neither inducible by reason,
nor confirmable by sense; and many things in Philosophy confirm-
able by sense, yet not inducible by reason. Thus it is impossible by
any solid or demonstrative reasons to perswade a man to believe the
conversion'" of the Needle to the North; though this be possible,
and true, and easily credible, upon a single experiment unto the sense.
I beheve that our estranged and divided ashes shall unite again; that
our separated dust, after so many Pilgrimages and transformations
into the parts of Minerals, Plants, Animals, Elements, shall at the
Voice of God return into their primitive shajjes, and joyn again to
make up their primary and predestinate forms. As at the Creation
there was a separation of that confused mass into its sjjecies; so at
the destruction thereof there shall be a separation into its distinct
individuals. As at the Creation of the World, all the distinct species
that we behold lay involved in one mass, till the fruitful Voice of
God separated this united multitude into its several species; so at the
last day, when those corrupted reliques shall be scattered in the Wil-
derness of forms, and seem to have forgot their projser habits, God
by a powerful Voice shall command them back into their proper
shapes, and call them out by their single individuals. Then shall
appear the fertility of Adam, and the magick of that sperm'" that
hath dilated into so many millions. I have often beheld as a miracle,
that artificial resurrection and revivification"* of Mercury, how being
mortified into a thousand shapes, it assumes again its own, and
returns into its numerical'" self. Let us speak naturally and like

"• Reward. "' Turning. '" Seed. '" Restoration to its own form.
•"•Individual.

300 THOMAS BROWNE

Philosophers, the forms of aherable bodies in these sensible corrup-
tions perish not; nor, as we imagine, wholly quit their mansions,
but retire and contract themselves into their secret and unaccessible
parts, where they may best protect themselves from the action of
their Antagonist. A plant or vegetable consumed to ashes to a con-
templative and school-Philosopher seems utterly destroyed, and the
form to have taken his leave for ever; but to a sensible Artist the
forms are not perished, but withdrawn into their incombustible part,
where they lie secure from the action of that devouring element.
This is made good by experience, which can from the Ashes of a
Plant revive the plant, and from its cinders recall it into its stalk
and leaves again. What the Art of man can do in these inferiour
pieces, what blasphemy is it to affirm the finger of God cannot do in
these more perfect and sensible structures! This is that mystical Phi-
losophy, from whence no true Scholar becomes an Atheist, but from
the visible effects of nature grows up a real Divine, and beholds not
in a dream, as Ezekiel, but in an ocular and visible object, the types
of his resurrection.

XLIX. Now, the necessary Mansions of our restored selves are
those two contrary and incompatible places we call Heaven and Hell,
To define them, or strictly to determine what and where these are,
surpasseth my Divinity. That elegant'" Apostle,'" which seemed to
have a glimpse of Heaven, hath left but a negative description
thereof; which neither eye hath seen, nor ear hath heard, nor can
enter into the heart of man: he was translated out of himself to be-
hold it; but, being returned into himself, could not express it. St,
John's description by Emerals, Chrysolites, and precious Stones, is
too weak to express the material Heaven we behold. Briefly there-
fore, where the Soul hath the full measure and complement of happi-
ness; where the boundless appetite of that spirit remains compleady
satisfied, that it can neither desire addition nor alteration; that, I
think, is truly Heaven: and this can onely be in the injoyment of
that essence, whose infinite goodness is able to terminate the desires
of it self, and the unsatiable wishes of ours: wherever God will thus
manifest Himself, there is Heaven, though within the circle of this
sensible world. Thus the Soul of man may be in Heaven any where,

"' Perhaps for eloquent. "* St. Paul.

RELIGIO MEDICI 30I

even within the limits of his own proper body; and when it ceaseth
to live in the body, it may remain in its own soul, that is, its Creator:
and thus we may say that St. Paul, whether in the body, or out of the
body, was yet in Heaven. To place it in the Empyreal, or beyond
the tenth sphear, is to forget the world's destruction; for, when this
sensible world shall be destroyed, all shall then be here as it is now
there, an Empyreal Heaven, a quasi vacuity; when to ask where
Heaven is, is to demand where the Presence of God is, or where we
have the glory of that happy vision. Moses, that was bred up in all
the learning of the Egyptians, committed a gross absurdity in Phi-
losophy, when with these eyes of flesh he desired to see God, and
petitioned his Maker, that is, Truth it self, to a contradiction. Those
that imagine Heaven and Hell neighbours, and conceive a vicinity
between those two extreams, upon consequence of the Parable, where
Dives discoursed with Lazarus in Abraham's bosome, do too grosly
conceive of those glorified creatures, whose eyes shall easily out-see
the Sun, and behold without a perspective'" the extreamest dis-
tances: for if there shall be in our glorified eyes, the faculty of sight
and reception of objects, I could think the visible species there to be
in as unlimitable a way as now the intellectual. I grant that two
bodies placed beyond the tenth sphear, or in a vacuity, according to
Aristotle's Philosophy, could not behold each other, because there
wants a body or Medium to hand and transport the visible rays of
the object unto the sense; but when there shall be a general defect
of either Medium to convey, or light to prepare and dispose that
Medium, and yet a perfect vision, we must suspend the rules
of our Philosophy, and make all good by a more absolute piece of
opticks.

L. I cannot tell how to say that fire is the essence of Hell : I know
not what to make of Purgatory, or conceive a flame that can either
prey upon, or purifie the substance of a Soul. Those flames of Sul-
phur mention 'd in the Scriptures, I take not to be understood of this
present Hell, but of that to come, where fire shall make up the com-
plement of our tortures, and have a body or subject wherein to mani-
fest its tyranny. Some, who have had the honour to be textuary in
Divinity, are of opinion it shall be the same specifical fire with ours.

'^' Telescope.

302 THOMAS BROWNE

This is hard to conceive; yet can I make good how even that may
prey upon our bodies, and yet not consume us: for in this material
World there are bodies that persist invincible in the powerfullest
flames; and though by the action of fire they fall into ignition and
liquation, yet will they never suffer a destruction. I would gladly
know how Moses with an actual fire calcined or burnt the Golden
Calf unto powder: for that mystical metal of Gold, whose solary'"
and celestial nature I admire, exposed unto the violence of fire, grows
onely hot, and liquifies, but consumeth not; so, when the con-
sumable and volatile pieces of our bodies shall be refined into a more
impregnable and fixed temper like Gold, though they suffer from
the action of flames, they shall never f)erish, but lye immortal in the
arms of fire. And surely, if this frame must suffer onely by the action
of this element, there will many bodies escape; and not onely Heaven,
but Earth will not be at an end, but rather a beginning. For at pres-
ent it is not earth, but a composition of fire, water, earth, and air;
but at that time, spoiled of these ingredients, it shall appear in a sub-
stance more like it self, its ashes. Philosophers that opinioned the
worlds destruction by fire, did never dream of annihilation, which
is beyond the f)ower of sublunary causes; for the last and proper ac-
tion of that element is but vitrification, or a reduction of a body into
glass; and therefore some of our Chymicks facetiously affirm, that
at the last fire all shall be christallized and reverberated into glass,
which is the utmost action of that element. Nor need we fear this
term, annihilation, or wonder that God will destroy the works of His
Creation; for man subsisting, who is, and will then truely appear,
a Microcosm, the world cannot be said to be destroyed. For
the eyes of God, and perhaps also of our glorified selves, shall as
really behold and contemplate the World in its Epitome or con-
tracted essence, as now it doth at large and in its dilated substance.
In the seed of a Plant to the eyes of God, and to the understanding
of man, there exists, though in an invisible way, the perfect leaves,
flowers, and fruit thereof; for things that are in posse to the sense,
are actually existent to the understanding. Thus God beholds all
things. Who contemplates as fully His works in their Epitome, as
in their full volume; and beheld as amply the whole world in that

''* Solar. Astrology associated gold with the sun.

RELIGIO MEDICI 3O3

little compendium of the sixth day, as in the scattered and dilated
pieces of those five before.

LI. Men commonly set forth the torments of Hell by fire, and the
extremity of corporal afflictions, and describe Hell in the same
method that Mahomet doth Heaven. This indeed makes a noise,
and drums in popular ears: but if this be the terrible piece thereof,
it is not worthy to stand in diameter'" with Heaven, whose happi-
ness consists in that part that is best able to comprehend it, that
immortal essence, that translated divinity and colony of God, the
Soul. Surely, though we place Hell under Earth, the Devil's walk
and purlue is about it: men speak too popularly who place it in those
flaming mountains, which to grosser apprehensions represent Hell.
The heart of man is the place the Devils dwell in: I feel sometimes a
Hell within my self; Lucifer keeps his Court in my breast. Legion is
revived in me. There are as many Hells, as Anaxagoras conceited
worlds."* There was more than one Hell in Magdalene, when there
were seven Devils, for every Devil is an Hell unto himself; he holds
enough of torture in his own ubi, and needs not the misery of cir-
cumference to afflict him: and thus a distracted Conscience here, is
a shadow or introduction unto Hell hereafter. Who can but pity the
merciful intention of those hands that do destroy themselves? the
Devil, were it in his power, would do the like; which being impos-
sible, his miseries are endless, and he suffers most in that attribute
wherein he is impassible,'" his immortality.

LII. I thank God, and with joy I mention it, I was never afraid of
Hell, nor never grew pale at the description of that place. I have
so fixed my contemplations on Heaven, that I have almost forgot
the Idea of Hell, and am afraid rather to lose the Joys of the one,
than endure the misery of the other: to be deprived of them is a per-
fect Hell, and needs, methinks, no addition to compleat our afflic-
tions. That terrible term hath never detained me from sin, nor do I
owe any good action to the name thereof. I fear God, yet am not
afraid of Him: His Mercies make me ashamed of my sins, before
His Judgements afraid thereof. These are the forced and secondary
method of His wisdom, which He useth but as the last remedy, and

'" In opposition to. '^ /. r., an infinite number. The doctrine belongs to
Anaxarchus. '^' Exempt from decay.

304 THOMAS BROWNE

upon provocation; a course rather to deter the wicked, than incite
the virtuous to His worship. I can hardly think there was ever any
scared into Heaven; they go the fairest way to Heaven that would
serve God without a Hell; other Mercenaries, that crouch into Him
in fear of Hell, though they term themselves the servants, are indeed
but the slaves, of the Almighty.

LIII. And to be true, and speak my soul, when I survey the occur-
rences of my life, and call into account the Finger of God, I can
perceive nothing but an abyss and mass of mercies, either in gen-
eral to mankind, or in particular to my self. And (whether out of
the prejudice of my affection, or an inverting and partial conceit of
His mercies, I know not; but) those which others term crosses,
afflictions, judgements, misfortunes, to me, who inquire farther
into them then their visible effects, they both appear, and in event
have ever proved, the secret and dissembled favours of His affec-
tion. It is a singular piece of Wisdom to apprehend truly, and with-
out passion the Works of God, and so well to distinguish His Justice
from His Mercy, as not to miscall those noble Attributes: yet it is
likewise an honest piece of Logick, so to dispute and argue the pro-
ceedings of God, as to distinguish even His judgments into mercies.
For God is merciful unto all, because better to the worst than the best
deserve; and to say He punisheth none in this World, though it be a
Paradox, is no absurdity. To one that hath committed Murther, if
the Judge should only ordain a Fine, it were a madness to call this
a punishment, and to repine at the sentence, rather than admire the
clemency of the Judge. Thus, our offences being mortal, and deserv-
ing not only Death, but Damnation, if the goodness of God be con-
tent to traverse and pass them over with a loss, misfortune, or disease,
what frensie were it to term this a punishment, rather than an ex-
tremity of mercy, and to groan under the rod of His Judgements,
rather than admire the Scepter of His Mercies! Therefore to adore,
honour, and admire Him, is a debt of gratitude due from the obliga-
tion of our nature, states, and conditions; and with these thoughts.
He that knows them best, will not deny that I adore Him. That
I obtain Heaven, and the bUss thereof, is accidental, and not the
intended work of my devotion; it being a felicity I can neither
think to deserve, nor scarce in modesty to expect. For these two

RELIGIO MEDICI 305

ends of us all, either as rewards or punishments, are mercifully or-
dained and disproportionably disposed unto our actions; the one
being so far beyond our deserts, the other so infinitely below our
demerits.

LIV. There is no Salvation to those that believe not in Christ,
that is, say some, since His Nativity, and, as Divinity affirmeth,
before also; which makes me much apprehend'"* the ends of those
honest Worthies and Philosophers which dyed before His Incarna-
tion. It is hard to place those Souls in Hell, whose worthy lives do
teach us Virtue on Earth; methinks, amongst those many subdi-
visions of Hell, there might have been one Limbo left for these.
What a strange vision will it be to see their Poetical fictions con-
verted into Verities, and their imagined and fancied Furies into real
Devils! How strange to them will sound the History of Adam,
when they shall suffer for him they never heard of! when they who
derive their genealogy from the Gods, shall know they are the un-
happy issue of sinful man! It is an insolent part of reason, to contro-
vert the works of God, or question the Justice of His proceedings.
Could Humility teach others, as it hath instructed me, to contem-
plate the infinite and incomprehensible distance betwixt the Creator
and the Creature; or did we seriously perpend that one simile of St.
Paul, Shall the Vessel say to the Potter, "Why hast thou made me
thus?" it would prevent these arrogant disputes of reason; nor
would we argue the definitive sentence of God, either to Heaven or
Hell. Men that live according to the right rule and law of reason,
live but in their own kind, as beasts do in theirs; who jusdy obey
the prescript of their natures, and therefore cannot reasonably de-
mand a reward of their actions, as onely obeying the natural dic-
tates of their reason. It will, therefore, and must at last appear, that
all salvation is through Christ; which verity, I fear, these great
examples of virtue must confirm, and make it good how the perfect-
est actions of earth have no title or claim unto Heaven.

LV. Nor truely do I think the lives of these, or of any other,
were ever correspondent, or in all points conformable, unto their doc-
trines. It is evident that Aristotle transgressed the rule of his own
Ethicks. The Stoicks that condemn passion, and command a man
'^ Contemplate with £ear.

306 THOMAS BROWNE

to laugh in Phalaris"* his Bull, could not endure without a groan
a fit of the Stone or Colick. The Scepticks that affirmed they knew
nothing, even in that opinion confute themselves, and thought they
knew more than all the World beside. Diogenes I hold to be the
most vain-glorious man of his time, and more ambitious in refusing
all Honours, than Alexander in rejecting none. Vice and the Devil
put a Fallacy upon our Reasons, and, provoking us too hastily to run
from it, entangle and profound us deeper in it. The Duke of Venice,
that weds himself unto the Sea by a Ring of Gold, I will not argue
of prodigality, because it is a solemnity of good use and consequence
in the State; but the Philosopher that threw his money into the Sea
to avoid Avarice, was a notorious prodigal. There is no road or
ready way to virtue: it is not an easie point of art to disentangle our
selves from this riddle, or web of Sin. To perfect virtue, as to Relig-
ion, there is required a Panoplia, or compleat armour; that, whilst
we lye at close ward against one Vice, we lye not open to the venny'"
of another. And indeed wiser discretions that have the thred of
reason to conduct them, offend without pardon; whereas under-
heads may stumble without dishonour. There go so many circum-
stances to piece up one good action, that it is a lesson to be good, and
we are forced to be virtuous by the book. Again, the Practice of
men holds not an equal pace, yea, and often runs counter to their
Theory: we naturally know what is good, but naturally pursue what
is evil: the Rhetorick wherewith I perswade another, cannot per-
swade my self. There is a depraved appetite in us, that will with
patience hear the learned instructions of Reason, but yet perform no
farther than agrees to its own irregular humour. In brief, we all
are monsters, that is, a composition of Man and Beast, wherein we
must endeavor to be as the Poets fancy that wise man Chiron,'" that
is, to have the Region of Man above that of Beast, and Sense to
sit but at the feet of Reason. Lastly, I do desire with God that all,
but yet affirm with men that few, shall know Salvation; that the
bridge is narrow, the passage strait, unto life: yet those who do con-
fine the Church of God, either to particular Nations, Churches, or
Families, have made it far narrower than our Saviour ever meant it.

'^ A Sicilian t>Tant of the 6th century b. c, who sacrificed human beings in a
heated brazen bull. '^ Auault. "' The Cenuur.

RELIGIO MEDICI 307

LVI. The vulgarity of those judgements that wrap the Church of
God in Strabo's c/oa^,'" and restrain it unto Europe, seem to me as
bad Geographers as Alexander, who thought he had Conquer'd all
the World, when he had not subdued the half of any part thereof.
For we cannot deny the Church of God both in Asia and Africa, if
we do not forget the Peregrinations of the Aposdes, the deaths of the
Martyrs, the Sessions of many and (even in our reformed judge-
ment) lawful Councils, held in those parts in the minority and
nonage of ours. Nor must a few differences, more remarkable in the
eyes of man than perhaps in the judgement of God, excommunicate
from Heaven one another; much less those Christians who are in a
manner all Martyrs, maintaining their Faith in the noble way of
persecution, and serving God in the Fire, whereas we honour him
but in the Sunshine. 'Tis true we all hold there is a number of
Elect, and many to be saved; yet, take our Opinions together, and
from the confusion thereof there will be no such thing as salvation,
nor shall any one be saved. For first, the Church of Rome con-
demneth us, we likewise them; the Subreformists and Sectaries sen-
tence the Doctrine of our Church as damnable; the Atomist,'" or
Familist,"* reprobates all these; and all these, them again. Thus,
whilst the Mercies of God do promise us Heaven, our conceits and
opinions exclude us from that place. There must be, therefore, more
than one St. Peter: particular Churches and Sects usurp the gates of
Heaven, and turn the key against each other; and thus we go to
Heaven against each others wills, conceits, and opinions, and, with as
much uncharity as ignorance, do err, I fear, in points not only of
our own, but one anothers salvation.

LVII. I believe many are saved, who to man seem reprobated; and
many are reprobated, who, in the opinion and sentence of man, stand
elected. There will appear at the Last day strange and unexpected
examples both of His Justice and His Mercy; and therefore to de-
fine either, is folly in man, and insolency even in the Devils. Those
acute and subtil spirits, in all their sagacity, can hardly divine who
shall be saved; which if they could Prognostick, their labour were
at an end, nor need they compass the earth seel^ing whom they may

"^ Strabo compared the known world of his time to a cloak.

'" Apparently a sect of Browne's time.

"* One of the sect called "The Family of Love."

308 THOMAS BROWNE

devour. Those who, upon a rigid application of the Law, sentence
Solomon unto damnation, condemn not onely him, but themselves,
and the whole World: for, by the Letter and written Word of God,
we are without exception in the state of Death; but there is a pre-
rogative of God, and an arbitrary pleasure above the Letter of His
own Law, by which alone we can pretend unto Salvation, and
through which Solomon might be as easily saved as those who
condemn him.

LVIII. The number of those who pretend unto Salvation, and
those infinite swarms who think to pass through the eye of this
Needle, have much amazed me. That name and compellation of
little Flocf{, doth not comfort, but deject, my Devotion; especially
when I reflect upon mine own unworthiness, wherein, according to
my humble apprehensions, I am below them all. I believe there shall
never be an Anarchy in Heaven; but, as there are Hierarchies
amongst the Angels, so shall there be degrees of priority amongst
the Saints. Yet is it (I protest,) beyond my ambition to aspire unto
the first ranks; my desires onely are (and I shall be happy therein,)
to be but the last man, and bring up the Rere in Heaven.

LIX. Again, I am confident and fully perswaded, yet dare not
take my oath, of my Salvation. I am as it were sure, and do believe
without all doubt, that there is such a City as Constantinople; yet for
me to take my Oath thereon were a kind of Perjury, because I hold
no infallible warrant from my own sense to confirm me in the cer-
tainty thereof. And truly, though many pretend an absolute cer-
tainty of their Salvation, yet, when an humble Soul shall contem-
plate her own unworthiness, she shall meet with many doubts, and
suddenly find how litde we stand in need of the Precept of St. Paul,
Wor\ out your salvation with fear and trembling. That which is
the cause of my Election, I hold to be the cause of my Salvation,
which was the mercy and beneplacit'" of God, before I was, or the
foundation of the World. Before Abraham was, I am, is the saying
of Christ; yet is it true in some sense, if I say it of my self; for I
was not onely before my self, but Adam, that is, in the Idea of God,
and the decree of that Synod held from all Eternity. And in this
sense, I say, the World was before the Creation, and at an end

"^ Good pleasure.

RELIGIO MEDICI 309

before it had a beginning; and thus was I dead before I was alive:
though my grave be England, my dying place was Paradise: and
Eve miscarried of me before she conceiv'd of Cain.

LX. Insolent zeals,"* that do decry good Works and rely onely
upon Faith, take not away merit: for, depending upon the efScacy
of their Faith, they enforce the condition of God, and in a more
sophistical way do seem to challenge Heaven. It was decreed by
God, that only those that lapt in the water like Dogs, should have
the honour to destroy the Midianites; yet could none of those justly
challenge, or imagine he deserved, that honour thereupon. I do
not deny but that true Faith, and such as God requires, is not onely
a mark or token, but also a means, of our Salvation; but where to
find this, is as obscure to me as my last end. And if our Saviour
could object unto His own Disciples and Favourites, a Faith, that,
to the quantity of a grain of Mustard-seed, is able to remove Moun-
tains; surely, that which we boast of, is not any thing, or at the most,
but a remove from nothing. This is the Tenor of my belief; wherein
though there be many things singular, and to the humour of my
irregular self, yet, if they square not with maturer Judgements, I
disclaim them, and do no further father them, than the learned and
best judgements shall authorize them.

'" Zealots.

RELIGIO MEDICI

THE SECOND PART

NOW for that other Virtue of Charity, without which Faith
is a meer notion, and of no existence, I have ever endeav<
oured to nourish the merciful disposition and humane in-
clination I borrowed from my Parents, and regulate it to the written
and prescribed Laws of Charity. And if I hold the true Anatomy
of my self, I am delineated and naturally framed to such a piece of
virtue; for I am of a constitution so general, that it consorts and
sympathiseth with all things. I have no antipathy, or rather Idiosyn-
crasie, in dyet, humour, air, any thing. I wonder not at the French
for their dishes of Frogs, Snails and Toadstools, nor at the Jews for
Locusts and Grasshoppers; but being amongst them, make them my
common Viands, and I find they agree with my Stomach as well as
theirs. I could digest a Salad gathered in a Church-yard, as well as
in a Garden. I cannot start at the presence of a Serpent, Scorpion,
Lizard, or Salamander: at the sight of a Toad or Viper, I find in
me no desire to take up a stone to destroy them. I feel not in my
self those common Antipathies that I can discover in others: those
National repugnances do not touch me, nor do I behold with prej-
udice the French, Italian, Spaniard, or Dutch: but where I find
their actions in balance with my Country-men's, I honour, love, and
embrace them in the same degree. I was born in the eighth Climate,'
but seem for to be framed and constellated unto all. I am no Plant
that will not prosper out of a Garden. All places, all airs, make unto
me one Countrey; I am in England every where, and under any
Meridian. I have been shipwrackt, yet am not enemy with the Sea
or Winds; I can study, play, or sleep in a Tempest. In brief, I am
averse from nothing: my Conscience would give me the lye if I
should say I absolutely detest or hate any essence but the Devil; or
' Region of the earth's surface, used like our degrees of latitude.
310

RELIGIO MEDICI 3II

SO at least abhor any thing, but that we might come to composition.
If there be any among those common objects of hatred I do con-
temn and laugh at, it is that great enemy of Reason, Virtue and Reli-
gion, the Multitude: that numerous piece of monstrosity, which, taken
asunder, seem men, and the reasonable creatures of God; but, con-
fused together, make but one great beast, and a monstrosity more
prodigious than Hydra. It is no breach of Charity to call these Fools;
it is the style all holy Writers have afforded them, set down by Solo-
mon in Canonical Scripture, and a point of our Faith to believe so.
Neither in the name of Multitude do I onely include the base and
minor sort of people; there is a rabble even amongst the Gentry, a
sort of Plebeian heads, whose fancy moves with the same wheel as
these; men in the same Level with Mechanicks, though their for-
tunes do somewhat guild their infirmities, and their purses com-
pound for their follies. But as, in casting account, three or four men
together come short in account of one man placed by himself below
them; so neither are a troop of these ignorant Doradoe? of that true
esteem and value, as many a forlorn person, whose condition doth
place him below their feet. Let us speak like Politicians:' there is a
Nobility without Heraldry, a natural dignity, whereby one man is
ranked with another, another filed before him, according to the
quality of his Desert, and preheminence of his good parts. Though
the corruption of these times and the byas of present practice
wheel another way, thus it was in the first and primitive Common-
wealths, and is yet in the integrity and Cradle of well-order'd Polities,
till corruption gettcth ground; ruder desires labouring after that
which wiser considerations contemn, every one having a liberty to
amass and heap up riches, and they a licence or faculty to do or
purchase any thing.

II. This general and indifferent temper of mine doth more neerly
dispose me to this noble virtue. It is a happiness to be born and
framed unto virtue, and to grow up from the seeds of nature, rather
than the inoculation and forced graffs of education: yet if we are
directed only by our particular Natures, and regulate our inclina-
tions by no higher rule than that of our reasons, we are but Moralists;
Divinity will still call us Heathens. Therefore this great work of
' Spanish, the name of a fish: here=fools. ^ Statesmen.

312 THOMAS BROWNE

charity must have other motives, ends, and impulsions. I give no
alms only to satisfie the hunger of my Brother, but to fulfil and ac-
complish the Will and Command of my God: I draw not my purse
for his sake that demands it, but His That enjoy ned it: I relieve no
man upon the Rhetorick of his miseries, nor to content mine own
commiserating disposition; for this is still but moral charity, and an
act that oweth more to passion than reason. He that relieves another
upon the bare suggestion and bowels of pity, doth not this, so much
for his sake as for his own; for by compassion we make others
misery our own, and so, by relieving them, we relieve our selves also.
It is as erroneous a conceit to redress other Mens misfortunes upon
the common considerations of merciful natures, that it may be one
day our own case; for this is a sinister and politick kind of charity,
whereby we seem to bespeak the pities of men in the like occasions.
And truly I have observed that those professed Eleemosynaries,
though in a croud or multitude, do yet direct and place their peti-
tions on a few and selected persons: there is surely a Physiognomy,
which those experienced and Master Mendicants observe, whereby
they instantly discover a merciful aspect, and will single out a face
wherein they spy the signatures and marks of Mercy. For there are
mystically in our faces certain Characters which carry in them the
motto of our Souls, wherein he that cannot read A. B. C. may read
our natures. I hold moreover that there is a Phytognomy, or Physi-
ognomy, not only of Men, but of Plants and Vegetables; and in
every one of them some outward figures which hang as signs or
bushes* of their inward forms. The Finger of God hath left an In-
scription upon all His works, not graphical or composed of Letters,
but of their several forms, constitutions, parts, and operations, which,
apdy joyned together, do make one word that doth express their
natures. By these Letters God calls the Stars by their names; and by
this Alphabet Adam assigned to every creature a name peculiar to
its Nature. Now there are, besides these Characters in our Faces,
certain mystical figures in our Hands, which I dare not call meer
dashes, strokes J la volee, or at random, because delineated by a Pen-
cil that never works in vain; and hereof I take more particular notice,
because I carry that in mine own hand which I could never read
^Bushes were hung out as signs before tavern doors.

RELIGIO MEDICI 313

of nor discover in another. Aristotle, I confess, in his acute and singu-
lar Book of Physiognomy, hath made no mention of Chiromancy;
yet I beUeve the Egyptians, who were neerer addicted to those ab-
struse and mystical sciences, had a knowledge therein, to which those
vagabond and counterfeit Egyptians' did after pretend, and perhaps
retained a few corrupted orinciples, which sometimes might verifie
their prognosticks.

It is the common wonder of all men, how among so many millions
of faces, there should be none alike: now contrary, I wonder as
much how there should be any. He that shall consider how many
thousand several words have been carelessly and without study com-
posed out of twenty-four Letters; withal, how many hundred lines
there are to be drawn in the Fabrick of one Man, shall easily find
that this variety is necessary; and it will be very hard that they shall
so concur as to make one portract like another. Let a Painter care-
lesly limb out a million of Faces, and you shall find them all differ-
ent; yea, let him have his Copy before him, yet after all his art there
will remain a sensible distinction; for the pattern or example of
every thing is the perfectest in that kind, whereof we still come short,
though we transcend or go beyond it, because herein it is wide, and
agrees not in all points unto the copy. Nor doth the similitude of
Creatures disparage the variety of Nature, nor any way confound
the Works of God. For even in things alike there is diversity; and
those that do seem to accord do manifestly disagree. And thus is
man like God; for in the same things that we resemble Him, we are
utterly different from Him. There was never anything so like an-
other as in all points to concur: there will ever some reserved differ-
ence slip in, to prevent the identity; without which, two several
things would not be alike, but the same, which is impossible.

III. But to return from Philosophy to Charity: I hold not so
narrow a conceit of this virtue, as to conceive that to give Alms is
onely to be Charitable, or think a piece of Liberality can comprehend
the Total of Charity. Divinity hath wisely divided the act thereof
into many branches, and hath taught us in this narrow way many
paths unto goodness; as many ways as we may do good, so many
ways we may be charitable. There are infirmities not onely of Body,

* Gipsies.

314 THOMAS BROWNE

but of Soul, and Fortunes, which do require the merciful hand of our
abilities. I cannot contemn a man for ignorance, but behold him
with as much pity as I do Lazarus. It is no greater Charity to cloath
his body, than apparel the nakedness of his Soul. It is an honour-
able object to see the reasons of other men wear our Liveries, and
their borrowed understandings do homage to the bounty of ours:
it is the cheapest way of beneficence, and, like the natural charity of
the Sun, illuminates another without obscuring itself. To be reserved
and caitiff in this part of goodness, is the sordidest piece of covetous-
ness, and more contemptible than pecuniary Avarice. To this (as
calling my self a Scholar,) I am obliged by the duty of my condi-
tion: I make not therefore my head a grave, but a treasure, of knowl-
edge; I intend no Monopoly, but a community, in learning; I study
not for my own sake only, but for theirs that study not for them-
selves. I envy no man that knows more than my self, but pity them
that know less. I instruct no man as an exercise of my knowledge,
or with intent rather to nourish and keep it alive in mine own head
then beget and propagate it in his: and in the midst of all my endeav-
ours there is but one thought that dejects me, that my acquired
parts must perish with my self, nor can be Legacied among my hon-
oured Friends. I cannot fall out or contemn a man for an errour,
or conceive why a difference in Opinion should divide an affection;
for Controversies, Disputes, and Argumentations, both in Philos-
ophy and in Divinity, if they meet with discreet and peaceable na-
tures, do not infringe the Laws of Charity. In all disputes, so much
as there is of passion, so much there is of nothing to the purpose;
for then Reason, like a bad Hound, spends upon a false Scent, and
forsakes the question first started. And this is one reason why Con-
troversies are never determined; for, though they be amply proposed,
they are scarce at all handled, they do so swell with unnecessary
Digressions; and the Parenthesis on the party is often as large as the
main discourse upon the subject. The Foundations of Religion are
already established, and the Principles of Salvation subscribed unto
by all: there remains not many controversies worth a Passion; and
yet never any disputed without, not only in Divinity, but inferiour
Arts. What a /SaTpoxo/iuo/xaxia*' and hot skirmish is betwixt S. and

• Battle of the Frogs and Mice.

RELIGIO MEDICI 315

T. in Lucian!' How do Grammarians hack and slash for the Geni-
tive case in JupiterP How do they break their own pates to salve that
of Priscian!

Si joret in terris, rideret Democritus.

[If he were on earth, Democritus would laugh.]

Yea, even amongst wiser militants, how many wounds have beea
given, and credits slain, for the poor victory of an opinion or beg-
gerly conquest of a distinction! Scholars are men of Peace, they bear
no Arms, but their tongues are sharper than Actius his razor;' their
Pens carry farther, and give a louder report than Thunder: I had
rather stand the shock of a Basilisco," than the fury of a merciless
Pen. It is not meer Zeal to Learning, or Devotion to the Muses, that
wiser Princes Patron the Arts, and carry an indulgent aspect unto
Scholars; but a desire to have their names eternized by the
memory of their writings, and a fear of the revengeful Pen of suc-
ceeding ages; for these are the men, that, when they have played
their parts, and had their exits, must step out and give the moral of
their Scenes, and deliver unto Posterity an Inventory of their Virtues
and Vices. And surely there goes a great deal of Conscience to the
compiling of an History: there is no reproach" to the scandal of a
Story; it is such an authentick kind of falshood that with authority
belies our good names to all Nations and Posterity.

IV. There is another offence unto Charity, which no Author hath
ever written of, and few take notice of; and that's the reproach, not
of whole professions, mysteries, and conditions, but of whole Nations,
wherein by opprobrious Epithets we miscall each other, and by an
uncharitable Logick, from a disposition in a few, conclude a habit
in all.

Le mutin Anglois, et le bravache Escossois,

Et le fol Francois,
Le poultron Romain, le larron de Gascongne,
L'Espagnol superbe, et VAleman yvrongne.

[The stubborn Englishman, the swaggering Scot, the foolish French-
man, the coward Roman, the Gascon thief, the proud Spaniard, and the
drunken German.]

'In Lucian's "Judicium Vocalium," where the letter S accuses T of interference
with the other consonants. ' Whether Jupiteris or Jovis. • Which cut through
a whetstone. '"A kind of cannon. " Because it is believed.

3l6 THOMAS BROWNE

St. Paul, that calls the Cretians lyars}'^ doth it but indirectly, and
upon quotation of their own Poet." It is as bloody a thought in one
way, as Nero's" was in another; for by a word we wound a thou-
sand, and at one blow assassine the honour of a Nation. It is as
compleat a piece of madness to miscal and rave against the times, or
think to recal men to reason by a fit of passion. Democritus, that
thought to laugh the times into goodness, seems to me as deeply
Hypochondriack as Heraclitus, that bewailed them. It moves not
my spleen to behold the multitude in their proper humours, that is,
in their fits of folly and madness; as well understanding that wis-
dom is not prophan'd unto the World, and 'tis the priviledge of a
few to be Vertuous. They that endeavour to abolish Vice, destroy
also Virtue; for contraries, though they destroy one another, are yet
the life of one another. Thus Virtue (abolish vice,) is an Idea.
Again, the community" of sin doth not disparage goodness; for when
Vice gains upon the major part. Virtue, in whom it remains, be-
comes more excellent; and being lost in some, multiplies its good-
ness in others which remain untouched and persist intire in the
general inundation. I can therefore behold Vice without a Satyr,
content only with an admonition, or instructive reprehension; for
Noble Natures, and such as are capable of goodness, are railed into
vice, that might as easily be admonished into virtue; and we should
be all so far the Orators of goodness, as to protect her from the power
of Vice, and maintain the cause of injured truth. No man can justly
censure or condemn another, because indeed no man truly knows
another. This I perceive in my self; for I am in the dark to all the
world, and my nearest friends beheld me but in a cloud. Those that
know me but superficially, think less of me than I do of my self;
those of my neer acquaintance think more; God, Who truly knows
me, knows that I am nothing; for He only beholds me and all the
world. Who looks not on us through a derived ray, or a trajection'*
of a sensible species, but beholds the substance without the helps of
accidents, and the forms of things as we their operations. Further,
no man can judge another, because no man knows himself: for we

""Titus" L 12. " Epimenidcs.

'* Perhaps a confusion with Caligula, who wished that the whole Roman people
had one neck. *' Prevalence. " Emission.

RELIGIO MEDICI 317

censure others but as they disagree from that humour which we
fancy laudable in our selves, and commend others but for that
wherein they seem to quadrate" and consent with us. So that, in
conclusion, all is but that we all condemn. Self-love. 'Tis the gen-
eral complaint of these times, and perhaps of those past, that charity
grows cold; which I perceive most verified in those which most do
manifest the fires and flames of zeal; for it is a virtue that best
agrees with coldest natures, and such as are complexioned for hu-
mility. But how shall we expect Charity towards others, when we are
uncharitable to our selves? Charity begins at home, is the voice of
the World; yet is every man his greatest enemy, and, as it were,
his own Executioner. Non occides, [Thou shalt not kill] is the
Commandment of God, yet scarce observed by any man; for I per-
ceive every man is his own Atropos,^' and lends a hand to cut the
thred of his own days. Cain was not therefore the first Murtherer,
but Adam, who brought in death; whereof he beheld the practice
and example in his own son Abel, and saw that verified in the expe-
rience of another, which faith could not perswade him in the Theory
of himself.

V. There is, I think, no man that apprehends his own miseries less
than my self, and no man that so neerly apprehends anothers. I
could lose an arm without a tear, and with few groans, methinks;
be quartered into pieces; yet can I weep most seriously at a Play,
and receive with true passion the counterfeit grief of those known
and professed Impostures. It is a barbarous part of inhumanity to
add unto any afflicted parties misery, or indeavour to multiply in any
man a passion whose single nature is already above his patience.
This was the greatest affliction of Job, and those oblique expostula-
tions of his Friends a deeper injury than the down-right blows of the
Devil. It is not the tears of our own eyes only, but of our friends
also, that do exhaust the current of our sorrows; which, falling into
many streams, runs more peaceably, and is contented with a nar-
rower channel. It is an act within the power of charity, to translate
a passion out of one breast into another, and to divide a sorrow
almost out of it self; for an affliction, like a dimension, may be so
divided, as, if not indivisible, at least to become insensible. Now
^ Square. " The Fate who cuts the thread of life.

3l8 THOMAS BROWNE

with my friend I desire not to share or participate, but to engross,
his sorrows; that, by making them mine own, I may more easily
discuss them; for in mine own reason, and within my self, I can
command that which I cannot intreat without my self, and within
the circle of another. I have often thought those noble pairs and
examples of friendship not so truly Histories of what had been, as
fictions of what should be; but I now perceive nothing in them but
jx)ssibilities, nor anything in the Heroick examples of Damon and
Pythias, Achilles and Patroclus, which methinks upon some grounds
I could not perform within the narrow compass of my self. That a
man should lay down his life for his Friend, seems strange to vulgar
affections, and such as confine themselves within that Worldly
principle. Charity begins at home. For mine own part I could never
remember the relations that I held unto my self, nor the respect that
I owe unto my own nature, in the cause of God, my Country, and my
Friends. Next to these three, I do embrace my self. I confess I do
not observe that order that the Schools ordain our affections, to love
our Parents, Wives, Children, and then our Friends; for, excepting
the injunctions of Religion, I do not find in my self such a necessary
and indissoluble Sympathy to all those of my blood. 1 hope I do not
break the fifth Commandment, if I conceive I may love my friend
before the nearest of my blood, even those to whom I owe the
principles of life. I never yet cast a true affection on a woman; but
I have loved my friend as I do virtue, my soul, my God. From
hence me thinks I do conceive how God loves man, what happiness
there is in the love of God. Omitting all other, there are three most
mystical unions: i. two natures in one person; 2. three persons in one
nature; 3. one soul in two bodies; for though indeed they be really
divided, yet are they so united, as they seem but one, and make
rather a duality than two distinct souls.

VI, There are wonders in true affection: it is a body of Enigma's,
mysteries, and riddles; wherein two so become one, as they both
become two. I love my friend before my self, and yet methinks I
do not love him enough: some few months hence my multiplied
affection will make me believe I have not loved him at all. When I
am from him, I am dead till I be with him; when I am with him, I
am not satisfied, but would still be nearer him. United souls are

RELIGIO MEDICI 319

not satisfied with imbraces, but desire to be truly each other; which
being impossible, their desires are infinite, and must proceed with-
out a possibility of satisfaction. Another misery there is in affection,
that whom we truly love like our own selves, we forget their looks,
nor can our memory retain the Idea of their faces; and it is no won-
der, for they are our selves, and our affection makes their looks
our own. This noble affection falls not on vulgar and common con-
stitutions, but on such as are mark'd for virtue: he that can love his
friend with this noble ardour, will in a competent degree affect all.
Now, if we can bring our affections to look beyond the body, and
cast an eye upon the soul, we have found out the true object, not only
of friendship, but Charity; and the greatest happiness that we can
bequeath the soul, is that wherein we all do place our last felicity,
Salvation; which though it be not in our power to bestow, it is
in our charity and pious invocations to desire, if not procure and
further. I cannot contentedly frame a prayer for my self in particu-
lar, without a catalogue for my friends; nor request a happiness,
wherein my sociable disposition doth not desire the fellowship of my
neighbour. I never hear the Toll of a passing Bell, though in my
mirth, with out my prayers and best wishes for the departing spirit;
I cannot go to cure the body of my patient, but I forget my profes-
sion, and call unto God for his soul; I cannot see one say his prayers,
but, in stead of imitating him, I fall into a supplication for him,
who perhaps is no more to me than a common nature: and if God
hath vouchsafed an ear to my supplications, there are surely many
happy that never saw me, and enjoy the blessing of mine unknown
devotions. To pray for Enemies, that is, for their salvation, is no
harsh precept, but the practice of our daily and ordinary devotions. I
cannot believe the story of the Italian:'* our bad wishes and un-
charitable desires proceed no further than this life; it is the Devil,
and the uncharitable votes of Hell, that desire our misery in the
world to come.

VII. To do no injury, nor take none, was a principle, which to my
former years and impatient affections seemed to contain enough of
Morality; but my more seded years and Christian constitution have

"who killed hU eoemy after inducing him to blaspheme, that he might go to
beU.

320 THOMAS BROWNE

fallen upon severer resolutions. I can hold there is no such thing as
injury; that, if there be, there is no such injury as revenge, and no
such revenge as the contempt of an injury; that to hate another,
is to malign himself; that the truest way to love another, is to despise
our selves. I were unjust unto mine own Conscience, if I should say
I am at variance with any thing like my self. I find there are many
pieces in this one fabrick of man; this frame is raised upon a mass of
Antipathies. I am one methinks, but as the World; wherein not-
withstanding there are a swarm of distinct essences, and in them
another World of contrarieties; we carry private and domestic ene-
mies within, publick and more hostile adversaries without. The
Devil, that did but buffet St. Paul, plays methinks at sharp*" with me.
Let me be nothing, if within the compass of my self I do not find
the battail of Lepanto," Passion against Reason, Reason against
Faith, Faith against the Devil, and my Conscience against all. There
is another man within me, that's angry with me, rebukes, com-
mands, and dastards me. I have no Conscience of Marble to resist
the hammer of more heavy offences; nor yet so soft and waxen, as
to take the impression of each single peccadillo or scape of infirmity.
I am of a strange belief, that it is as easie to be forgiven some sins,
as to commit some others. For my Original sin, I hold it to be washed
away in my Baptism: for my actual transgressions, I compute and
reckon with God but from my last repentance. Sacrament, or general
absolution; and therefore am not terrified with the sins or madness
of my youth. I thank the goodness of God, I have no sins that want
a name; I am not singular in offences; my transgressions are Epi-
demical, and from the common breath of our corruption. For there
are certain tempers of body, which, matcht with an humorous de-
pravity of mind, do hatch and produce vitiosities, whose newness
and monstrosity of nature admits no name: this was the temper of
that Lecher that fell in love with a Statua, and the constitution of
Nero in his Spintrian" recreations. For the Heavens are not only
fruitful in new and unheard-of stars, the Earth in plants and animals,
but mens minds also in villany and vices. Now the dulness of my
reason, and the vulgarity" of my disposition, never prompted my

*• Rghts in earnest. " "Used for a deadly contest." ^ Obscene.

^' Commonplaceness.

RELIGIO MEDICI 321

invention, nor solicited my affection unto any of these; yet even
those common and quotidian infirmities that so necessarily attend
me, and do seem to be my very nature, have so dejected me, so
broken the estimation that I should have otherwise of my self, that
I repute my self the most abjectest piece of mortality. Divines pre-
scribe a fit of sorrow to repentance: there goes indignation, anger,
sorrow, hatred, into mine; passions of a contrary nature, which
neither seem to sute with this action, nor my proper constitution.
It is no breach of charity to our selves, to be at variance with our
Vices, nor to abhor that part of us which is an enemy to the ground
of charity, our God; wherein we do but imitate our great selves, the
world, whose divided Antipathies and contrary faces do yet carry a
charitable regard unto the whole, by their particular discords pre-
serving the common harmony, and keeping in fetters those powers,
whose rebellions, once Masters, might be the ruine of all.

VIII. I thank God, amongst those millions of Vices I do inherit
and hold from Adam, I have escaped one, and that a mortal enemy
to Charity, the first and father-sin, not onely of man, but of the
devil, Pride: a vice whose name is comprehended in a Monosyllable,
but in its nature not circumscribed with a World. I have escaped it
in a condition that can hardly avoid it. Those petty acquisitions
and reputed perfections that advance and elevate the conceits of
other men, add no feathers unto mine. I have seen a Grammarian
towr and plume himself over a single line in Horace, and shew
more pride in the construction of one Ode, than the Author in the
composure of the whole book. For my own part, besides the Jargon
and Patois of several Provinces, I understand no less than six Lan-
guages; yet I protest I have no higher conceit of my self, than had
our Fathers before the confusion of Babel, when there was but one
Language in the World, and none to boast himself either Linguist
or Critick. I have not onely seen several Countries, beheld the na-
ture of their Climes, the Chorography^* of their Provinces, Topog-
raphy of their Cities, but understood their several Laws, Customs,
and Policies; yet cannot all this perswade the dulness of my spirit
unto such an opinion of my self, as I behold in nimbler and con-
ceited heads, that never looked a degree beyond their Nests. I know

*^ Description.

322 THOMAS BROWNE

the names, and somewhat more, of all the constellations in my Hori-
zon; yet I have seen a prating Mariner, that could onely name the
pointers and the North Star, out-talk me, and conceit himself a whole
Sphere above me. I know most of the Plants of my Countrey, and
of those about me; yet methinks I do not know so many as when I
did but know a hundred, and had scarcely ever Simpled" further
than Cheap-side?* For, indeed, heads of capacity, and such as are not
full with a handful or easie measure of knowledge, think they know
nothing till they know all; which being impxissible, they fall upon
the opinion of Socrates, and only know they know not anything. I
cannot think that Homer pin'd away upon the riddle of the fisher-
men; or that Aristotle, who understood the uncertainty of knowl-
edge, and confessed so often the reason of man too weak for the
works of nature, did ever drown himself upon the flux and reflux
of Euripus. We do but learn to-day what our better advanced
judgements will unteach to morrow; and Aristotle doth but instruct
us, as Plato did him; that is, to confute himself. I have run through
all sorts, yet find no rest in any: though our first studies and junior
endeavours may style us Peripateticks, Stoicks, or Academicks; yet I
perceive the wisest heads prove, at last, almost all Scepticks, and
stand like Janus" in the field of knowledge. I have therefore one
common and authentick Philosophy I learned in the Schools,
whereby I discourse and satisfy the reason of other men; another
more reserved, and drawn from experience, whereby I content mine
own. Solomon, that complained of ignorance in the height of
knowledge, hath not only humbled my conceits, but discouraged my
endeavours. There is yet another conceit" that hath sometimes made
me shut my books, which tells me it is a vanity to waste our days
in the blind pursuit of knowledge; it is but attending a little longer,
and we shall enjoy that by instinct and infusion, which we endeav-
our at here by labour and inquisition. It is better to sit down in a
modest ignorance, and rest contented with the natural blessing of our
own reasons, than buy the uncertain knowledge of this life with
sweat and vexation, which Death gives every fool gratis, and is an
accessary of our glorification.

** Botanized. "A (jrcat herb market in the 17th century. "A Roman deity
whose statues had two faces looking in opposite directions. " Idea.

RELIGIO MEDICI 323

IX. I was never yet once, and commend their resolutions who
never marry twice: not that I disallow of second marriage; as neither,
in all cases, of Polygamy, which, considering some times, and the un-
equal number of both sexes, may be also necessary. The whole
•World was made for man, but the twelfth part of man for woman:
Man is the whole World, and the Breath of God; Woman the Rib
and crooked piece of man. I could be content that we might procre-
ate like trees, without conjunction, or that there were any way to
perpetuate the World without this trivial and vulgar way of union:
it is the foolishest act a wise man commits in all his life; nor is there
any thing that will more deject his cool'd imagination, when he shall
consider what an odd and unworthy piece of folly he hath committed.
I speak not in prejudice, nor am averse from that sweet Sex, but
naturally amorous of all that is beautiful. I can look a whole day
with delight upon a handsome Picture, though it be but of an
Horse. It is my temper, and I like it the better, to affect all harmony:
and sure there is musick even in the beauty, and the silent note
which Cupid strikes, far sweeter than the sound of an instrument.
For there is a musick where ever there is a harmony, order, or pro-
fxjrtion: and thus far we may maintain the music of the Sphears;
for those well-ordered motions, and regular paces, though they give
no sound unto the ear, yet to the understanding they strike a note
most full of harmony. Whatsoever is harmonically composed de-
lights in harmony; which makes me much distrust the symmetry of
those heads which declaim against all Church-Musick. For my self,
not only for my obedience, but my particular Genius, I do em-
brace it: for even that vulgar and Tavern-Musick, which makes one
man merry, another mad, strikes in me a deep fit of devotion, and a
profound contemplation of the First Composer. There is some-
thing in it of Divinity more than the ear discovers: it is an Hiero-
glyphical and shadowed lesson of the whole World, and creatures of
God; such a melody to the ear, as the whole World, well under-
stood, would afford the understanding. In brief, it is a sensible fit
of that harmony which intellectually sounds in the ears of God. I
will not say, with Plato, the soul is an harmony, but harmonical, and
hath its nearest sympathy unto Musick : thus some, whose temper of
body agrees, and humours the constitution of their souls, are born

324 THOMAS BROWNE

Poets, though indeed all are naturally inclined unto Rhythme.
This made Tacitus, in the very first line of his Story, fall upon a
verse; and Cicero, the worst of Poets, but declaiming for a Poet, falls
in the very first sentence upon a perfect Hexameter. I feel not in me
those sordid and unchristian desires of my profession; I do not
secredy implore and wish for Plagues, rejoyce at Famines, revolve
Ephemerides" and Almanacks in expectation of malignant As-
pects,*" fatal Conjunctions,'" and Eclipses.** I rejoyce not at unwhole-
some Springs, nor unseasonable Winters: my Prayer goes with the
Husbandman's; I desire every thing in its proper season, that neither
men nor the times be put out of temper. Let me be sick my self if
sometimes the malady of my patient be not a disease unto me. I
desire rather to cure his infirmities than my own necessities. Where
I do him no good, methinks it is scarce honest gain; though I confess,
'tis but the worthy salary of our well-intended endeavours. I am
not only ashamed, but heartily sorry, that, besides death, there are
diseases incurable: yet not for my own sake, or that they be beyond
my Art, but for the general cause and sake of humanity, whose
common cause I apprehend as mine own. And to speak more gen-
erally, those three Noble Professions which all civil Commonwealths
do honour, are raised upon the fall of Adam, and are not any way
exempt from their infirmities; there are not only diseases incurable
in Physick, but cases indissolvable in Laws, Vices incorrigible in
Divinity. If General Councils may err, I do not see why particular
Courts should be infallible; their perfectest rules are raised upon
the erroneous reasons of Man, and the Laws of one do but condemn
the rules of another; as Aristotle oft-times the opinions of his Prede-
cessours, because, though agreeable to reason, yet were not conso-
nant to his own rules, and the Logick of his proper Principles.
Again, (to speak nothing of the Sin against the Holy Ghost, whose
cure not onely but whose nature is unknown,) I can cure the Gout
or Stone in some, sooner than Divinity, Pride or Avarice in others.
I can cure Vices by Physick when they remain incurable by Divinity,
and shall obey my Pills when they contemn their precepts. I boast
nothing, but plainly say, we all labour against our own cure; for

** Tables showing the daily state of the heavens.
*<> Astronomical conditioiu supposed to presage disaster.

RELIGIO MEDICI 325

death is the cure of all diseases. There is no Catholicon or universal
remedy I know, but this; which, though nauseous to queasie stom-
achs, yet to prepared appetites is Nectar, and a pleasant potion of
immortality.

X. For my Conversation,*' it is like the Sun's, with all men, and
with a friendly aspect to good and bad. Methinks there is no man
bzd, and the worst, best; that is, while they are kept within the
circle of those qualities wherein they are good: there is no man's
mind of such discordant and jarring a temper, to which a tunable
disposition may not strike a harmony. Magna virtutes, nee minora
vitia [Great virtues, nor less vices]; it is the posie of the best natures,
and may be inverted on the worst; there are in the most depraved
and venemous dispositions, certain pieces that remain untoucht,
which by an Antiperistasii'^ become more excellent, or by the excel-
lency of their antipathies are able to preserve themselves from the
contagion of their enemy vices, and persist intire beyond the gen-
eral corruption. For it is also thus in nature: the greatest Balsomes
do lie enveloped in the bodies of most pxjwerful Corrosives." I say,
moreover, and I ground upon experience, that poisons contain
within themselves their own Antidote, and that which preserves
them from the venome of themselves, without which they were not
deleterious to others onely, but to themselves also. But it is the cor-
ruption that I fear within me, not the contagion of commerce'* with-
out me. 'Tis that unruly regiment'^ within me, that will destroy
me; 'tis I that do infect my self; the man without a NaveP yet lives
in me; I feel that original canker corrode and devour me; and there-
fore Defenda we Dios de me, "Lord deliver me from my self,"
is a part of my Letany, and the first voice of my retired imagina-
tions. There is no man alone, because every man is a Microcosm,
and carries the whole World about him. Nunquam minus solus
quam cum solus [Never less alone than when alone], though it be
the Apothegme of a wise man, is yet true in the mouth of a fool.
Indeed, though in a Wilderness, a man is never alone, not only be-
cause he is with himself and his own thoughts, but because he is
with the Devil, who ever consorts with our solitude, and is that

" Intercourse. •* Heightening by contrast. *^ Poisons. ** Intercourse.

•'Company of evil impulses. "Adam, as not being born of woman.

326 THOMAS BROWNE

unruly rebel that musters up those disordered motions which ac-
company our sequestred imaginations. And to speak more nar-
rowly, there is no such thing as solitude, nor any thing that can
be said to be alone and by itself, but God, Who is His own circle,
and can subsist by Himself; all others, besides their dissimilary and
Heterogeneous parts, which in a manner multiply their natures,
cannot subsist without the concourse" of God, and the society of
that hand which doth uphold their natures. In brief, there can be
nothing truly alone and by it self, which is not truly one; and such
is only God: all others do transcend an unity, and so by consequence
are many.

XI. Now for my life, it is a miracle of thirty years, which to relate,
were not a History, but a piece of Poetry, and would sound to com-
mon ears like a Fable. For the World, I count it not an Inn, but an
Hospital; and a place not to live, but to dye in. The world that I
regard is my self; it is the Microcosm of my own frame that 1 cast
mine eye on; for the other, I use it but like my Globe, and turn it
round sometimes for my recreation. Men that look upon my out-
side, perusing only my condition and Fortunes, do err in my Alti-
tude; for I am above Atlas his shoulders. The earth is a point not
only in respect of the Heavens above us, but of that heavenly and
celestial part within us: that mass of Flesh that circumscribes me,
limits not my mind: that surface that tells the Heavens it hath an
end, cannot persuade me I have any: I take my circle to be above
three hundred and sixty; though the number of the Ark" do measure
my body, it comprehendeth not my mind: whilst I study to find
how I am a Microcosm, or little World, I find my self something
more than the great. There is surely a piece of Divinity in us,
something that was before the Elements, and owes no homage unto
the Sun. Nature tells me I am the Image of God, as well as Scrip-
ture: he that understands not thus much, hath not his introduction
or first lesson, and is yet to begin the Alphabet of man. Let me not
injure the felicity of others, if I say I am as happy as any: Ruat
cerium, fiat voluntas Tua [Let Thy will be done, though the heav-
ens fall], salveth all; so that whatsoever happens, it is but what
our daily prayers desire. In brief, I am content; and what should
'^ Cooperation. ^ Here, circumference of a circle.

RELIGIO MEDICI 327

Providence add more? Surely this is it we call Happiness, and this
do I enjoy; with this I am happy in a dream, and as content to enjoy
a happiness in a fancy, as others in a more apparent truth and realty.
There is surely a neerer apprehension of any thing that delights
us in our dreams, than in our waked senses: without this I were
unhappy; for my awaked judgment discontents me, ever whisper-
ing unto me, that I am from my friend; but my friendly dreams in
the night requite me, and make me think I am within his arms. I
thank God for my happy dreams, as I do for my good rest; for there
is a satisfaction in them unto reasonable desires, and such as can be
content with a fit of happiness: and surely it is not a melancholy con-
ceit to think we are all asleep in this World, and that the conceits of
this life are as meer dreams to those of the next; as the Phantasms of
the night, to the conceits of the day. There is an equal delusion in
both, and the one doth but seem to be the embleme or picture of the
other: we are somewhat more than our selves in our sleeps, and
the slumber of the body seems to be but the waking of the soul. It
is the ligation'* of sense, but the liberty of reason; and our waking
conceptions do not match the Fancies of our sleeps. At my Nativity
my Ascendant was the watery sign of Scorpius; I was born in the
Planetary hour of Saturn, and I think I have a piece of that Leaden
Planet in me. I am no way facetious, nor disposed for the mirth and
galliardize" of company; yet in one dream I can compose a whole
Comedy, behold the action, apprehend the jests, and laugh my self
awake at the conceits thereof. Were my memory as faithful as my
reason is then fruitful, I would never study but in my dreams; and
this time also would I chuse for my devotions: but our grosser mem-
ories have then so little hold of our abstracted understandings, that
they forget the story, and can only relate to our awaked souls, a con-
fused and broken tale of that that hath passed. Aristode, who hath
written a singular Tract Of Sleep, hath not, methinks, throughly
defined it; nor yet Galen, though he seem to have corrected
it; for those Noctambuloes and night-walkers, though in their sleep,
do yet injoy the action of their senses. We must therefore say that
there is something in us that is not in the jurisdiction of Morpheus;
and that those abstracted and ecstatick souls do walk about in their
" Binding. ** Merriment.

328 THOMAS BROWhfE

own corps, as spirits with the bodies they assume, wherein they seem
to hear, see, and feel, though indeed the Organs are destitute of sense,
and their natures of those faculties that should inform them. Thus
it is observed, that men sometimes, upon the hour of their departure,
do speak and reason above themselves; for then the soul, beginning
to be freed from the ligaments of the body, begins to reason like her
self, and to discourse in a strain above mortality.

XII. We term sleep a death; and yet it is waking that kills us,
and destroys those spirits that are the house of life. Tis indeed a
part of life that best expresseth death; for every man truely lives,
so long as he acts his nature, or some way makes good the faculties
of himself. Themistodes, therefore, that slew his Soldier in his sleep,
was a merciful Executioner: 'tis a kind of punishment the mildness
of no laws hath invented: I wonder the fancy of Lucan and Seneca
did not discover it. It is that death by which we may be literally
said to dye daily; a death which Adam dyed before his mortality; a
death whereby we live a middle and moderating point between life
and death: in fine, so like death, I dare not trust it without my
prayers, and an half adieu unto the World, and take my farwel in a
Colloquy with God.

The night is come, like to the day,
Depart not Thou, great God, away.
Let not my sins, black as the night,
Eclipse the lustre of Thy light:
Keep still in my Horizon; for to me
The Sun makes not the day, but Thee.
Thou, Whose nature cannot sleep,
On my temples Gentry keep;
Guard me 'gainst those watchful foes.
Whose eyes are open while mine close.
Let no dreams my head infest.
But such as Jacob's temples blest.
While I do rest, my Soul advance;
Make my sleep a holy trance;
That I may, my rest being wrought.
Awake into some holy thought;
And with as active vigour run
My course, as doth the nimble Sun.
Sleep is a death; O make me try,
By sleeping, what it is to die;

RELIGIO MEDICI 329

And as gently lay my head
On my grave, as now my bed.
However I rest, great God, let me
Awake again at last with Thee;
And thus assur'd, behold I lie
Securely, or to awake or die.
These are my drowsie days; in vain
I do not wake to sleep again:
O come that hour, when I shall never
Sleep again, but wake for ever.

This is the Dormative" I take to bedward; I need no other Lauda-
num than this to make me sleep; after which I close mine eyes in
security, content to take my leave of the Sun, and sleep unto the
Resurrection.

XIII. The method I should use in distributive Justice,^' I often ob-
serve in commutative;" and keep a Geometrical proportion in both,
whereby becoming equable to others, I become unjust to my self,
and supererogate" in that common principle. Do unto others as thou
wouldst be done unto thy self, I was not born unto riches, neither
is it, I think, my Star to be wealthy; or, if it were, the freedom of
my mind, and frankness of my disposition, were able to contradict
and cross my fates: for to me, avarice seems not so much a vice, as
a deplorable piece of madness; to conceive ourselves pipkins, or be
perswaded that we are dead, is not so ridiculous, nor so many degrees
beyond the power of Hellebore," as this. The opinions of Theory,
and positions of men, are not so void of reason as their practised
conclusions. Some have held that Snow is black, that the earth
moves, that the Soul is air, fire, water; but all this is Philosophy, and
there is no delirium, if we do but sjieculate" the folly and indis-
putable dotage of avarice. To that subterraneous Idol and God of the
Earth I do confess I am an Atheist; I cannot perswade myself to
honour that the World adores; whatsoever virtue its prepared sub-
stance" may have within my body, it hath no influence nor opera-
tion without. I would not entertain a base design, or an action that

*' SlccpinR draft.

*^ Distribution of rewards and punishments according to the desert of each.
** The justice which is corrective in transactions between man and man, exercised
in arithmetical proportion. The distinction is made by Aristotle.

** Do more than is necessary. *^ Used as a remedy for madness. *• Consider.
*■' Gold was commonly used as a medicine.

330 THOMAS BROWNE

should call me villain, for the Indies; and for this only do I love
and honour my own soul, and have methinks two arms too few to
embrace myself. Aristotle is too severe, that will not allow us to be
truely liberal without wealth, and the bountiful hand of Fortune.
If this be true, I must confess I am charitable only in my liberal
intentions, and bountiful well-wishes; but if the example of the Mite
be not only an act of wonder, but an example of the noblest Charity,
surely f)oor men may also build Hospitals, and the rich alone have
not erected Cathedrals. I have a private method which others observe
not; I take the opportunity of my self to do good; I borrow occasion
of Charity from mine own necessities, and supply the wants of
others, when I am in most need my self: for it is an honest stratagem
to take advantage of our selves, and so to husband the acts of vertue,
that, where they are defective in one circumstance, they may repay
their want and multiply their goodness in another. I have not Peru**
in my desires, but a competence, and ability to perform those good
works to which He hath inclined my nature. He is rich, who hath
enough to be charitable; and it is hard to be so poor, that a noble
mind may not find a way to this piece of goodness. He that giveth to
the poor, lendeth to the Lord: there is more Rhetorick in that one
sentence, than in a Library of Sermons; and indeed, if those Sen-
tences were understood by the Reader, with the same Emphasis as
they are delivered by the Author, we needed not those Volumes of
instructions, but might be honest by an Epitome. Upon this motive
only I cannot behold a Beggar without relieving his Necessities with
my Purse, or his Soul with my Prayers; these scenical and accidental
differences between us, cannot make me forget that common and un-
toucht part of us both: there is under these Centoes*^ and miserable
outsides, these mutilate and semi-bodies, a soul of the same alloy
with our own, whose Genealogy is God as well as ours, and in as
fair a way to Salvation as our selves. Statists that labour to contrive
a Common-wealth without poverty, take away the object of charity,
not understanding only the Commonwealth of a Christian, but for-
getting the prophecie of Christ.^

XIV. Now, there is another part of charity, which is the Basis and

*' A symbol of vast wealth. *' Masses of patches.
" "The poor ye have always with ye."

RELIGIO MEDICI 33 1

Pillar of this, and that is the love of God, for Whom we love our
neighbour; for this I think charity, to love God for Himself, and
our neighbour for God. All that is truly amiable is God, or as it were
a divided piece of Him, that retains a reflex or shadow of Himself.
Nor is it strange that we should place affection on that which is
invisible: all that we truly love is thus; what we adore under affec-
tion of our senses, deserves not the honour of so pure a tide. Thus
we adore Virtue, though to the eyes of sense she be invisible: thus
that part of our noble friends that we love, is not that part that we
imbrace, but that insensible part that our arms cannot embrace.
God, being all goodness, can love nothing but Himself; He loves us
but for that part which is as it were Himself, and the traduction"
of His Holy Spirit. Let us call to assize the loves of our parents,
the affection of our wives and children, and they are all dumb shows
and dreams, without reality, truth, or constancy. For first there is a
strong bond of affection between us and our Parents; yet how easily
dissolved! We betake our selves to a woman, forget our mother in
a wife, and the womb that bare us, in that that shall bear our Image.
This woman blessing us with children, our affection leaves the level
it held before, and sinks from our bed unto our issue and picture of
Posterity, where affection holds no steady mansion. They, growing
up in years, desire our ends; or applying themselves to a woman, take
a lawful way to love another better than our selves. Thus I perceive
a man may be buried alive, and behold his grave in his own issue.
XV. I conclude therefore, and say, there is no happiness under
(or, as Copernicus will have it, above) the Sun, nor any Crambe'*
in that repeated verity and burthen of all the wisdom of Solomon,
All is vanity and vexation of Spirit. There is no felicity in that the
World adores. Aristotle, whilst he labours to refute the Idea's of
Plato, falls upon one himself; for his summum bonum is a Chimaera,
and there is no such thing as his Felicity. That wherein God Himself
is happy, the holy Angels are happy, in whose defect the Devils are
unhappy, that dare I call happiness: whatsoever conduceth unto this,
may with an easy Metaphor deserve that name; whatsoever else the
World terms Happiness, is to me a story out of Pliny, a tale of
Boccace or Malizspini, an apparition, or neat delusion, wherein there

" Derivative. '* "Tiresome repetition."

332 THOMAS BROWNE

is no more of Happiness than the name. Bless me in this life with
but peace of my Conscience, command of my affections, the love of
Thy self and my dearest friends, and I shall be happy enough to pity
CxsiT. These are, O Lord, the humble desires of my most reasonable
ambition, and all I dare call happiness on earth; wherein I set no
rule or limit to Thy Hand or Providence. Dispose of me according
to the wisdom of Thy pleasure: Thy will be done, though in my own
undoing.

FINIS

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