No More Learning

15. The removing of all the defects formerly enumerate, except the last,
and of the active part also of the last (which is the designation of
writers), are _opera basilica_; towards which the endeavours of a private
man may be but as an image in a crossway, that may point at the way, but
cannot go it. But the inducing part of the latter (which is the survey
of learning) may be set forward by private travail. Wherefore I will now
attempt to make a general and faithful perambulation of learning, with an
inquiry what parts thereof lie fresh and waste, and not improved and
converted by the industry of man, to the end that such a plot made and
recorded to memory may both minister light to any public designation,
and, also serve to excite voluntary endeavours. Wherein, nevertheless,
my purpose is at this time to note only omissions and deficiences, and
not to make any redargution of errors or incomplete prosecutions. For it
is one thing to set forth what ground lieth unmanured, and another thing
to correct ill husbandry in that which is manured.

In the handling and undertaking of which work I am not ignorant what it
is that I do now move and attempt, nor insensible of mine own weakness to
sustain my purpose. But my hope is, that if my extreme love to learning
carry me too far, I may obtain the excuse of affection; for that “It is
not granted to man to love and to be wise. ” But I know well I can use no
other liberty of judgment than I must leave to others; and I for my part
shall be indifferently glad either to perform myself, or accept from
another, that duty of humanity—_Nam qui erranti comiter monstrat viam_,
&c. I do foresee likewise that of those things which I shall enter and
register as deficiences and omissions, many will conceive and censure
that some of them are already done and extant; others to be but
curiosities, and things of no great use; and others to be of too great
difficulty, and almost impossibility to be compassed and effected. But
for the two first, I refer myself to the particulars. For the last,
touching impossibility, I take it those things are to be held possible
which may be done by some person, though not by every one; and which may
be done by many, though not by any one; and which may be done in the
succession of ages, though not within the hourglass of one man’s life;
and which may be done by public designation, though not by private
endeavour. But, notwithstanding, if any man will take to himself rather
that of Solomon, “_Dicit piger_, _Leo est in via_,” than that of Virgil,
“_Possunt quia posse videntur_,” I shall be content that my labours be
esteemed but as the better sort of wishes; for as it asketh some
knowledge to demand a question not impertinent, so it requireth some
sense to make a wish not absurd.

I. (1) The parts of human learning have reference to the three parts of
man’s understanding, which is the seat of learning: history to his
memory, poesy to his imagination, and philosophy to his reason. Divine
learning receiveth the same distribution; for, the spirit of man is the
same, though the revelation of oracle and sense be diverse. So as
theology consisteth also of history of the Church; of parables, which is
divine poesy; and of holy doctrine or precept. For as for that part
which seemeth supernumerary, which is prophecy, it is but divine history,
which hath that prerogative over human, as the narration may be before
the fact as well as after.

(2) History is natural, civil, ecclesiastical, and literary; whereof the
first three I allow as extant, the fourth I note as deficient. For no
man hath propounded to himself the general state of learning to be
described and represented from age to age, as many have done the works of
Nature, and the state, civil and ecclesiastical; without which the
history of the world seemeth to me to be as the statue of Polyphemus with
his eye out, that part being wanting which doth most show the spirit and
life of the person. And yet I am not ignorant that in divers particular
sciences, as of the jurisconsults, the mathematicians, the rhetoricians,
the philosophers, there are set down some small memorials of the schools,
authors, and books; and so likewise some barren relations touching the
invention of arts or usages. But a just story of learning, containing
the antiquities and originals of knowledges and their sects, their
inventions, their traditions, their diverse administrations and
managings, their flourishings, their oppositions, decays, depressions,
oblivions, removes, with the causes and occasions of them, and all other
events concerning learning, throughout the ages of the world, I may truly
affirm to be wanting; the use and end of which work I do not so much
design for curiosity or satisfaction of those that are the lovers of
learning, but chiefly for a more serious and grave purpose, which is this
in few words, that it will make learned men wise in the use and
administration of learning. For it is not Saint Augustine’s nor Saint
Ambrose’s works that will make so wise a divine as ecclesiastical history
thoroughly read and observed, and the same reason is of learning.

(3) History of Nature is of three sorts; of Nature in course, of Nature
erring or varying, and of Nature altered or wrought; that is, history of
creatures, history of marvels, and history of arts. The first of these
no doubt is extant, and that in good perfection; the two latter are
bandied so weakly and unprofitably as I am moved to note them as
deficient. For I find no sufficient or competent collection of the works
of Nature which have a digression and deflexion from the ordinary course
of generations, productions, and motions; whether they be singularities
of place and region, or the strange events of time and chance, or the
effects of yet unknown properties, or the instances of exception to
general kinds. It is true I find a number of books of fabulous
experiments and secrets, and frivolous impostures for pleasure and
strangeness; but a substantial and severe collection of the heteroclites
or irregulars of Nature, well examined and described, I find not,
specially not with due rejection of fables and popular errors. For as
things now are, if an untruth in Nature be once on foot, what by reason
of the neglect of examination, and countenance of antiquity, and what by
reason of the use of the opinion in similitudes and ornaments of speech,
it is never called down.

(4) The use of this work, honoured with a precedent in Aristotle, is
nothing less than to give contentment to the appetite of curious and vain
wits, as the manner of Mirabilaries is to do; but for two reasons, both
of great weight: the one to correct the partiality of axioms and
opinions, which are commonly framed only upon common and familiar
examples; the other because from the wonders of Nature is the nearest
intelligence and passage towards the wonders of art, for it is no more
but by following and, as it were, hounding Nature in her wanderings, to
be able to lead her afterwards to the same place again. Neither am I of
opinion, in this history of marvels, that superstitious narrations of
sorceries, witchcrafts, dreams, divinations, and the like, where there is
an assurance and clear evidence of the fact, be altogether excluded. For
it is not yet known in what cases and how far effects attributed to
superstition do participate of natural causes; and, therefore, howsoever
the practice of such things is to be condemned, yet from the speculation
and consideration of them light may be taken, not only for the discerning
of the offences, but for the further disclosing of Nature. Neither ought
a man to make scruple of entering into these things for inquisition of
truth, as your Majesty hath showed in your own example, who, with the two
clear eyes of religion and natural philosophy, have looked deeply and
wisely into these shadows, and yet proved yourself to be of the nature of
the sun, which passeth through pollutions and itself remains as pure as
before. But this I hold fit, that these narrations, which have mixture
with superstition, be sorted by themselves, and not to be mingled with
the narrations which are merely and sincerely natural. But as for the
narrations touching the prodigies and miracles of religions, they are
either not true or not natural; and, therefore, impertinent for the story
of Nature.

(5) For history of Nature, wrought or mechanical, I find some collections
made of agriculture, and likewise of manual arts; but commonly with a
rejection of experiments familiar and vulgar; for it is esteemed a kind
of dishonour unto learning to descend to inquiry or meditation upon
matters mechanical, except they be such as may be thought secrets,
rarities, and special subtleties; which humour of vain and supercilious
arrogancy is justly derided in Plato, where he brings in Hippias, a
vaunting sophist, disputing with Socrates, a true and unfeigned
inquisitor of truth; where, the subject being touching beauty, Socrates,
after his wandering manner of inductions, put first an example of a fair
virgin, and then of a fair horse, and then of a fair pot well glazed,
whereat Hippias was offended, and said, “More than for courtesy’s sake,
he did think much to dispute with any that did allege such base and
sordid instances. ” Whereunto Socrates answereth, “You have reason, and
it becomes you well, being a man so trim in your vestments,” &c. , and so
goeth on in an irony. But the truth is, they be not the highest
instances that give the securest information, as may be well expressed in
the tale so common of the philosopher that, while he gazed upwards to the
stars, fell into the water; for if he had looked down he might have seen
the stars in the water, but looking aloft he could not see the water in
the stars. So it cometh often to pass that mean and small things
discover great, better than great can discover the small; and therefore
Aristotle noteth well, “That the nature of everything is best seen in his
smallest portions. ” And for that cause he inquireth the nature of a
commonwealth, first in a family, and the simple conjugations of man and
wife, parent and child, master and servant, which are in every cottage.
Even so likewise the nature of this great city of the world, and the
policy thereof, must be first sought in mean concordances and small
portions. So we see how that secret of Nature, of the turning of iron
touched with the loadstone towards the north, was found out in needles of
iron, not in bars of iron.

(6) But if my judgment be of any weight, the use of history mechanical is
of all others the most radical and fundamental towards natural
philosophy; such natural philosophy as shall not vanish in the fume of
subtle, sublime, or delectable speculation, but such as shall be
operative to the endowment and benefit of man’s life. For it will not
only minister and suggest for the present many ingenious practices in all
trades, by a connection and transferring of the observations of one art
to the use of another, when the experiences of several mysteries shall
fall under the consideration of one man’s mind; but further, it will give
a more true and real illumination concerning causes and axioms than is
hitherto attained. For like as a man’s disposition is never well known
till he be crossed, nor Proteus ever changed shapes till he was
straitened and held fast; so the passages and variations of nature cannot
appear so fully in the liberty of nature as in the trials and vexations
of art.

II. (1) For civil history, it is of three kinds; not unfitly to be
compared with the three kinds of pictures or images. For of pictures or
images we see some are unfinished, some are perfect, and some are
defaced. So of histories we may find three kinds: memorials, perfect
histories, and antiquities; for memorials are history unfinished, or the
first or rough drafts of history; and antiquities are history defaced, or
some remnants of history which have casually escaped the shipwreck of
time.

(2) Memorials, or preparatory history, are of two sorts; whereof the one
may be termed commentaries, and the other registers. Commentaries are
they which set down a continuance of the naked events and actions,
without the motives or designs, the counsels, the speeches, the pretexts,
the occasions, and other passages of action. For this is the true nature
of a commentary (though Cæsar, in modesty mixed with greatness, did for
his pleasure apply the name of a commentary to the best history of the
world). Registers are collections of public acts, as decrees of council,
judicial proceedings, declarations and letters of estate, orations, and
the like, without a perfect continuance or contexture of the thread of
the narration.

(3) Antiquities, or remnants of history, are, as was said, _tanquam
tabula naufragii_: when industrious persons, by an exact and scrupulous
diligence and observation, out of monuments, names, words, proverbs,
traditions, private records and evidences, fragments of stories, passages
of books that concern not story, and the like, do save and recover
somewhat from the deluge of time.

(4) In these kinds of unperfect histories I do assign no deficience, for
they are _tanquam imperfecte mista_; and therefore any deficience in them
is but their nature. As for the corruptions and moths of history, which
are epitomes, the use of them deserveth to be banished, as all men of
sound judgment have confessed, as those that have fretted and corroded
the sound bodies of many excellent histories, and wrought them into base
and unprofitable dregs.

(5) History, which may be called just and perfect history, is of three
kinds, according to the object which it propoundeth, or pretendeth to
represent: for it either representeth a time, or a person, or an action.
The first we call chronicles, the second lives, and the third narrations
or relations. Of these, although the first be the most complete and
absolute kind of history, and hath most estimation and glory, yet the
second excelleth it in profit and use, and the third in verity and
sincerity. For history of times representeth the magnitude of actions,
and the public faces and deportments of persons, and passeth over in
silence the smaller passages and motions of men and matters. But such
being the workmanship of God, as He doth hang the greatest weight upon
the smallest wires, _maxima è minimis_, _suspendens_, it comes therefore
to pass, that such histories do rather set forth the pomp of business
than the true and inward resorts thereof. But lives, if they be well
written, propounding to themselves a person to represent, in whom
actions, both greater and smaller, public and private, have a commixture,
must of necessity contain a more true, native, and lively representation.
So again narrations and relations of actions, as the war of Peloponnesus,
the expedition of Cyrus Minor, the conspiracy of Catiline, cannot but be
more purely and exactly true than histories of times, because they may
choose an argument comprehensible within the notice and instructions of
the writer: whereas he that undertaketh the story of a time, specially of
any length, cannot but meet with many blanks and spaces, which he must be
forced to fill up out of his own wit and conjecture.

(6) For the history of times, I mean of civil history, the providence of
God hath made the distribution. For it hath pleased God to ordain and
illustrate two exemplar states of the world for arms, learning, moral
virtue, policy, and laws; the state of Græcia and the state of Rome; the
histories whereof occupying the middle part of time, have more ancient to
them histories which may by one common name be termed the antiquities of
the world; and after them, histories which may be likewise called by the
name of modern history.

(7) Now to speak of the deficiences. As to the heathen antiquities of
the world it is in vain to note them for deficient. Deficient they are
no doubt, consisting most of fables and fragments; but the deficience
cannot be holpen; for antiquity is like fame, _caput inter nubila
condit_, her head is muffled from our sight. For the history of the
exemplar states, it is extant in good perfection. Not but I could wish
there were a perfect course of history for Græcia, from Theseus to
Philopœmen (what time the affairs of Græcia drowned and extinguished in
the affairs of Rome), and for Rome from Romulus to Justinianus, who may
be truly said to be _ultimus Romanorum_. In which sequences of story the
text of Thucydides and Xenophon in the one, and the texts of Livius,
Polybius, Sallustius, Cæsar, Appianus, Tacitus, Herodianus in the other,
to be kept entire, without any diminution at all, and only to be supplied
and continued. But this is a matter of magnificence, rather to be
commended than required; and we speak now of parts of learning
supplemental, and not of supererogation.

(8) But for modern histories, whereof there are some few very worthy, but
the greater part beneath mediocrity, leaving the care of foreign stories
to foreign states, because I will not be _curiosus in aliena republica_,
I cannot fail to represent to your Majesty the unworthiness of the
history of England in the main continuance thereof, and the partiality
and obliquity of that of Scotland in the latest and largest author that I
have seen: supposing that it would be honour for your Majesty, and a work
very memorable, if this island of Great Britain, as it is now joined in
monarchy for the ages to come, so were joined in one history for the
times passed, after the manner of the sacred history, which draweth down
the story of the ten tribes and of the two tribes as twins together. And
if it shall seem that the greatness of this work may make it less exactly
performed, there is an excellent period of a much smaller compass of
time, as to the story of England; that is to say, from the uniting of the
Roses to the uniting of the kingdoms; a portion of time wherein, to my
understanding, there hath been the rarest varieties that in like number
of successions of any hereditary monarchy hath been known. For it
beginneth with the mixed adoption of a crown by arms and title; an entry
by battle, an establishment by marriage; and therefore times answerable,
like waters after a tempest, full of working and swelling, though without
extremity of storm; but well passed through by the wisdom of the pilot,
being one of the most sufficient kings of all the number. Then followeth
the reign of a king, whose actions, howsoever conducted, had much
intermixture with the affairs of Europe, balancing and inclining them
variably; in whose time also began that great alteration in the state
ecclesiastical, an action which seldom cometh upon the stage. Then the
reign of a minor; then an offer of a usurpation (though it was but as
_febris ephemera_). Then the reign of a queen matched with a foreigner;
then of a queen that lived solitary and unmarried, and yet her government
so masculine, as it had greater impression and operation upon the states
abroad than it any ways received from thence. And now last, this most
happy and glorious event, that this island of Britain, divided from all
the world, should be united in itself, and that oracle of rest given to
ÆNeas, _antiquam exquirite matrem_, should now be performed and fulfilled
upon the nations of England and Scotland, being now reunited in the
ancient mother name of Britain, as a full period of all instability and
peregrinations. So that as it cometh to pass in massive bodies, that
they have certain trepidations and waverings before they fix and settle,
so it seemeth that by the providence of God this monarchy, before it was
to settle in your majesty and your generations (in which I hope it is now
established for ever), it had these prelusive changes and varieties.

(9) For lives, I do find strange that these times have so little esteemed
the virtues of the times, as that the writings of lives should be no more
frequent. For although there be not many sovereign princes or absolute
commanders, and that states are most collected into monarchies, yet are
there many worthy personages that deserve better than dispersed report or
barren eulogies. For herein the invention of one of the late poets is
proper, and doth well enrich the ancient fiction. For he feigneth that
at the end of the thread or web of every man’s life there was a little
medal containing the person’s name, and that Time waited upon the shears,
and as soon as the thread was cut caught the medals, and carried them to
the river of Lathe; and about the bank there were many birds flying up
and down, that would get the medals and carry them in their beak a little
while, and then let them fall into the river. Only there were a few
swans, which if they got a name would carry it to a temple where it was
consecrate. And although many men, more mortal in their affections than
in their bodies, do esteem desire of name and memory but as a vanity and
ventosity,

“Animi nil magnæ laudis egentes;”

which opinion cometh from that root, _Non prius laudes contempsimus_,
_quam laudanda facere desivimus_: yet that will not alter Solomon’s
judgment, _Memoria justi cum laudibus_, _at impiorum nomen putrescet_:
the one flourisheth, the other either consumeth to present oblivion, or
turneth to an ill odour. And therefore in that style or addition, which
is and hath been long well received and brought in use, _felicis
memoriæ_, _piæ memoriæ_, _bonæ memoriæ_, we do acknowledge that which
Cicero saith, borrowing it from Demosthenes, that _bona fama propria
possessio defunctorum_; which possession I cannot but note that in our
times it lieth much waste, and that therein there is a deficience.

(10) For narrations and relations of particular actions, there were also
to be wished a greater diligence therein; for there is no great action
but hath some good pen which attends it. And because it is an ability
not common to write a good history, as may well appear by the small
number of them; yet if particularity of actions memorable were but
tolerably reported as they pass, the compiling of a complete history of
times might be the better expected, when a writer should arise that were
fit for it: for the collection of such relations might be as a nursery
garden, whereby to plant a fair and stately garden when time should
serve.

(11) There is yet another partition of history which Cornelius Tacitus
maketh, which is not to be forgotten, specially with that application
which he accoupleth it withal, annals and journals: appropriating to the
former matters of estate, and to the latter acts and accidents of a
meaner nature. For giving but a touch of certain magnificent buildings,
he addeth, _Cum ex dignitate populi Romani repertum sit_, _res illustres
annalibus_, _talia diurnis urbis actis mandare_. So as there is a kind
of contemplative heraldry, as well as civil. And as nothing doth
derogate from the dignity of a state more than confusion of degrees, so
it doth not a little imbase the authority of a history to intermingle
matters of triumph, or matters of ceremony, or matters of novelty, with
matters of state. But the use of a journal hath not only been in the
history of time, but likewise in the history of persons, and chiefly of
actions; for princes in ancient time had, upon point of honour and policy
both, journals kept, what passed day by day. For we see the chronicle
which was read before Ahasuerus, when he could not take rest, contained
matter of affairs, indeed, but such as had passed in his own time and
very lately before. But the journal of Alexander’s house expressed every
small particularity, even concerning his person and court; and it is yet
a use well received in enterprises memorable, as expeditions of war,
navigations, and the like, to keep diaries of that which passeth
continually.

(12) I cannot likewise be ignorant of a form of writing which some grave
and wise men have used, containing a scattered history of those actions
which they have thought worthy of memory, with politic discourse and
observation thereupon: not incorporate into the history, but separately,
and as the more principal in their intention; which kind of ruminated
history I think more fit to place amongst books of policy, whereof we
shall hereafter speak, than amongst books of history. For it is the true
office of history to represent the events themselves together with the
counsels, and to leave the observations and conclusions thereupon to the
liberty and faculty of every man’s judgment. But mixtures are things
irregular, whereof no man can define.

(13) So also is there another kind of history manifoldly mixed, and that
is history of cosmography: being compounded of natural history, in
respect of the regions themselves; of history civil, in respect of the
habitations, regiments, and manners of the people; and the mathematics,
in respect of the climates and configurations towards the heavens: which
part of learning of all others in this latter time hath obtained most
proficience. For it may be truly affirmed to the honour of these times,
and in a virtuous emulation with antiquity, that this great building of
the world had never through-lights made in it, till the age of us and our
fathers. For although they had knowledge of the antipodes,

“Nosque ubi primus equis Oriens afflavit anhelis,
Illic sera rubens accendit lumina Vesper,”

yet that might be by demonstration, and not in fact; and if by travel, it
requireth the voyage but of half the globe. But to circle the earth, as
the heavenly bodies do, was not done nor enterprised till these later
times: and therefore these times may justly bear in their word, not only
_plus ultra_, in precedence of the ancient _non ultra_, and _imitabile
fulmen_, in precedence of the ancient _non imitabile fulmen_,

“Demens qui nimbos et non imitabile fulmen,” &c.

but likewise _imitabile cælum_; in respect of the many memorable voyages
after the manner of heaven about the globe of the earth.

(14) And this proficience in navigation and discoveries may plant also an
expectation of the further proficience and augmentation of all sciences;
because it may seem they are ordained by God to be coevals, that is, to
meet in one age. For so the prophet Daniel speaking of the latter times
foretelleth, _Plurimi pertransibunt_, _et multiplex erit scientia_: as if
the openness and through-passage of the world and the increase of
knowledge were appointed to be in the same ages; as we see it is already
performed in great part: the learning of these later times not much
giving place to the former two periods or returns of learning, the one of
the Grecians, the other of the Romans.

III. (1) History ecclesiastical receiveth the same divisions with history
civil: but further in the propriety thereof may be divided into the
history of the Church, by a general name; history of prophecy; and
history of providence. The first describeth the times of the militant
Church, whether it be fluctuant, as the ark of Noah, or movable, as the
ark in the wilderness, or at rest, as the ark in the Temple: that is, the
state of the Church in persecution, in remove, and in peace. This part I
ought in no sort to note as deficient; only I would that the virtue and
sincerity of it were according to the mass and quantity. But I am not
now in hand with censures, but with omissions.

(2) The second, which is history of prophecy, consisteth of two
relatives—the prophecy and the accomplishment; and, therefore, the nature
of such a work ought to be, that every prophecy of the Scripture be
sorted with the event fulfilling the same throughout the ages of the
world, both for the better confirmation of faith and for the better
illumination of the Church touching those parts of prophecies which are
yet unfulfilled: allowing, nevertheless, that latitude which is agreeable
and familiar unto divine prophecies, being of the nature of their Author,
with whom a thousand years are but as one day, and therefore are not
fulfilled punctually at once, but have springing and germinant
accomplishment throughout many ages, though the height or fulness of them
may refer to some one age. This is a work which I find deficient, but is
to be done with wisdom, sobriety, and reverence, or not at all.

(3) The third, which is history of Providence, containeth that excellent
correspondence which is between God’s revealed will and His secret will;
which though it be so obscure, as for the most part it is not legible to
the natural man—no, nor many times to those that behold it from the
tabernacle—yet, at some times it pleaseth God, for our better
establishment and the confuting of those which are as without God in the
world, to write it in such text and capital letters, that, as the prophet
saith, “He that runneth by may read it”—that is, mere sensual persons,
which hasten by God’s judgments, and never bend or fix their cogitations
upon them, are nevertheless in their passage and race urged to discern
it. Such are the notable events and examples of God’s judgments,
chastisements, deliverances, and blessings; and this is a work which has
passed through the labour of many, and therefore I cannot present as
omitted.

(4) There are also other parts of learning which are appendices to
history. For all the exterior proceedings of man consist of words and
deeds, whereof history doth properly receive and retain in memory the
deeds; and if words, yet but as inducements and passages to deeds; so are
there other books and writings which are appropriate to the custody and
receipt of words only, which likewise are of three sorts—orations,
letters, and brief speeches or sayings. Orations are pleadings, speeches
of counsel, laudatives, invectives, apologies, reprehensions, orations of
formality or ceremony, and the like. Letters are according to all the
variety of occasions, advertisements, advises, directions, propositions,
petitions, commendatory, expostulatory, satisfactory, of compliment, of
pleasure, of discourse, and all other passages of action. And such as
are written from wise men, are of all the words of man, in my judgment,
the best; for they are more natural than orations and public speeches,
and more advised than conferences or present speeches. So again letters
of affairs from such as manage them, or are privy to them, are of all
others the best instructions for history, and to a diligent reader the
best histories in themselves. For apophthegms, it is a great loss of
that book of Cæsar’s; for as his history, and those few letters of his
which we have, and those apophthegms which were of his own, excel all
men’s else, so I suppose would his collection of apophthegms have done;
for as for those which are collected by others, either I have no taste in
such matters or else their choice hath not been happy. But upon these
three kinds of writings I do not insist, because I have no deficiences to
propound concerning them.

(5) Thus much therefore concerning history, which is that part of
learning which answereth to one of the cells, domiciles, or offices of
the mind of man, which is that of the memory.

IV. (1) Poesy is a part of learning in measure of words, for the most
part restrained, but in all other points extremely licensed, and doth
truly refer to the imagination; which, being not tied to the laws of
matter, may at pleasure join that which nature hath severed, and sever
that which nature hath joined, and so make unlawful matches and divorces
of things—_Pictoribus atque poetis_, &c. It is taken in two senses in
respect of words or matter. In the first sense, it is but a character of
style, and belongeth to arts of speech, and is not pertinent for the
present. In the latter, it is—as hath been said—one of the principal
portions of learning, and is nothing else but feigned history, which may
be styled as well in prose as in verse.

(2) The use of this feigned history hath been to give some shadow of
satisfaction to the mind of man in those points wherein the nature of
things doth deny it, the world being in proportion inferior to the soul;
by reason whereof there is, agreeable to the spirit of man, a more ample
greatness, a more exact goodness, and a more absolute variety, than can
be found in the nature of things. Therefore, because the acts or events
of true history have not that magnitude which satisfieth the mind of man,
poesy feigneth acts and events greater and more heroical. Because true
history propoundeth the successes and issues of actions not so agreeable
to the merits of virtue and vice, therefore poesy feigns them more just
in retribution, and more according to revealed Providence. Because true
history representeth actions and events more ordinary and less
interchanged, therefore poesy endueth them with more rareness and more
unexpected and alternative variations. So as it appeareth that poesy
serveth and conferreth to magnanimity, morality and to delectation. And
therefore, it was ever thought to have some participation of divineness,
because it doth raise and erect the mind, by submitting the shows of
things to the desires of the mind; whereas reason doth buckle and bow the
mind unto the nature of things. And we see that by these insinuations
and congruities with man’s nature and pleasure, joined also with the
agreement and consort it hath with music, it hath had access and
estimation in rude times and barbarous regions, where other learning
stood excluded.

(3) The division of poesy which is aptest in the propriety thereof
(besides those divisions which are common unto it with history, as
feigned chronicles, feigned lives, and the appendices of history, as
feigned epistles, feigned orations, and the rest) is into poesy
narrative, representative, and allusive. The narrative is a mere
imitation of history, with the excesses before remembered, choosing for
subjects commonly wars and love, rarely state, and sometimes pleasure or
mirth. Representative is as a visible history, and is an image of
actions as if they were present, as history is of actions in nature as
they are (that is) past. Allusive, or parabolical, is a narration
applied only to express some special purpose or conceit; which latter
kind of parabolical wisdom was much more in use in the ancient times, as
by the fables of Æsop, and the brief sentences of the seven, and the use
of hieroglyphics may appear. And the cause was (for that it was then of
necessity to express any point of reason which was more sharp or subtle
than the vulgar in that manner) because men in those times wanted both
variety of examples and subtlety of conceit. And as hieroglyphics were
before letters, so parables were before arguments; and nevertheless now
and at all times they do retain much life and rigour, because reason
cannot be so sensible nor examples so fit.

(4) But there remaineth yet another use of poesy parabolical, opposite to
that which we last mentioned; for that tendeth to demonstrate and
illustrate that which is taught or delivered, and this other to retire
and obscure it—that is, when the secrets and mysteries of religion,
policy, or philosophy, are involved in fables or parables. Of this in
divine poesy we see the use is authorised. In heathen poesy we see the
exposition of fables doth fall out sometimes with great felicity: as in
the fable that the giants being overthrown in their war against the gods,
the earth their mother in revenge thereof brought forth Fame:

“Illam terra parens, ira irritat Deorum,
Extremam, ut perhibent, Cœo Enceladoque soroem,
Progenuit. ”

Expounded that when princes and monarchs have suppressed actual and open
rebels, then the malignity of people (which is the mother of rebellion)
doth bring forth libels and slanders, and taxations of the states, which
is of the same kind with rebellion but more feminine. So in the fable
that the rest of the gods having conspired to bind Jupiter, Pallas called
Briareus with his hundred hands to his aid: expounded that monarchies
need not fear any curbing of their absoluteness by mighty subjects, as
long as by wisdom they keep the hearts of the people, who will be sure to
come in on their side. So in the fable that Achilles was brought up
under Chiron, the centaur, who was part a man and part a beast, expounded
ingeniously but corruptly by Machiavel, that it belongeth to the
education and discipline of princes to know as well how to play the part
of a lion in violence, and the fox in guile, as of the man in virtue and
justice. Nevertheless, in many the like encounters, I do rather think
that the fable was first, and the exposition devised, than that the moral
was first, and thereupon the fable framed; for I find it was an ancient
vanity in Chrysippus, that troubled himself with great contention to
fasten the assertions of the Stoics upon the fictions of the ancient
poets; but yet that all the fables and fictions of the poets were but
pleasure and not figure, I interpose no opinion. Surely of these poets
which are now extant, even Homer himself (notwithstanding he was made a
kind of scripture by the later schools of the Grecians), yet I should
without any difficulty pronounce that his fables had no such inwardness
in his own meaning. But what they might have upon a more original
tradition is not easy to affirm, for he was not the inventor of many of
them.

(5) In this third part of learning, which is poesy, I can report no
deficience; for being as a plant that cometh of the lust of the earth,
without a formal seed, it hath sprung up and spread abroad more than any
other kind. But to ascribe unto it that which is due, for the expressing
of affections, passions, corruptions, and customs, we are beholding to
poets more than to the philosophers’ works; and for wit and eloquence,
not much less than to orators’ harangues. But it is not good to stay too
long in the theatre. Let us now pass on to the judicial place or palace
of the mind, which we are to approach and view with more reverence and
attention.

V. (1) The knowledge of man is as the waters, some descending from above,
and some springing from beneath: the one informed by the light of nature,
the other inspired by divine revelation. The light of nature consisteth
in the notions of the mind and the reports of the senses; for as for
knowledge which man receiveth by teaching, it is cumulative and not
original, as in a water that besides his own spring-head is fed with
other springs and streams. So then, according to these two differing
illuminations or originals, knowledge is first of all divided into
divinity and philosophy.

(2) In philosophy the contemplations of man do either penetrate unto God,
or are circumferred to nature, or are reflected or reverted upon himself.
Out of which several inquiries there do arise three knowledges—divine
philosophy, natural philosophy, and human philosophy or humanity. For
all things are marked and stamped with this triple character—the power of
God, the difference of nature and the use of man. But because the
distributions and partitions of knowledge are not like several lines that
meet in one angle, and so touch but in a point, but are like branches of
a tree that meet in a stem, which hath a dimension and quantity of
entireness and continuance before it come to discontinue and break itself
into arms and boughs; therefore it is good, before we enter into the
former distribution, to erect and constitute one universal science, by
the name of _philosophia prima_, primitive or summary philosophy, as the
main and common way, before we come where the ways part and divide
themselves; which science whether I should report as deficient or no, I
stand doubtful. For I find a certain rhapsody of natural theology, and
of divers parts of logic; and of that part of natural philosophy which
concerneth the principles, and of that other part of natural philosophy
which concerneth the soul or spirit—all these strangely commixed and
confused; but being examined, it seemeth to me rather a depredation of
other sciences, advanced and exalted unto some height of terms, than
anything solid or substantive of itself. Nevertheless I cannot be
ignorant of the distinction which is current, that the same things are
handled but in several respects. As for example, that logic considereth
of many things as they are in notion, and this philosophy as they are in
nature—the one in appearance, the other in existence; but I find this
difference better made than pursued. For if they had considered
quantity, similitude, diversity, and the rest of those extern characters
of things, as philosophers, and in nature, their inquiries must of force
have been of a far other kind than they are. For doth any of them, in
handling quantity, speak of the force of union, how and how far it
multiplieth virtue? Doth any give the reason why some things in nature
are so common, and in so great mass, and others so rare, and in so small
quantity? Doth any, in handling similitude and diversity, assign the
cause why iron should not move to iron, which is more like, but move to
the loadstone, which is less like? Why in all diversities of things
there should be certain participles in nature which are almost ambiguous
to which kind they should be referred? But there is a mere and deep
silence touching the nature and operation of those common adjuncts of
things, as in nature; and only a resuming and repeating of the force and
use of them in speech or argument. Therefore, because in a writing of
this nature I avoid all subtlety, my meaning touching this original or
universal philosophy is thus, in a plain and gross description by
negative: “That it be a receptacle for all such profitable observations
and axioms as fall not within the compass of any of the special parts of
philosophy or sciences, but are more common and of a higher stage. ”

(3) Now that there are many of that kind need not be doubted. For
example: Is not the rule, _Si inœqualibus æqualia addas_, _omnia erunt
inæqualia_, an axiom as well of justice as of the mathematics? and is
there not a true coincidence between commutative and distributive
justice, and arithmetical and geometrical proportion? Is not that other
rule, _Quæ in eodem tertio conveniunt_, _et inter se conveniunt_, a rule
taken from the mathematics, but so potent in logic as all syllogisms are
built upon it? Is not the observation, _Omnia mutantur_, _nil interit_,
a contemplation in philosophy thus, that the _quantum_ of nature is
eternal? in natural theology thus, that it requireth the same omnipotency
to make somewhat nothing, which at the first made nothing somewhat?
according to the Scripture, _Didici quod omnia opera_, _quœ fecit Deus_,
_perseverent in perpetuum_; _non possumus eis quicquam addere nec
auferre_. Is not the ground, which Machiavel wisely and largely
discourseth concerning governments, that the way to establish and
preserve them is to reduce them _ad principia_—a rule in religion and
nature, as well as in civil administration? Was not the Persian magic a
reduction or correspondence of the principles and architectures of nature
to the rules and policy of governments? Is not the precept of a
musician, to fall from a discord or harsh accord upon a concord or sweet
accord, alike true in affection? Is not the trope of music, to avoid or
slide from the close or cadence, common with the trope of rhetoric of
deceiving expectation? Is not the delight of the quavering upon a stop
in music the same with the playing of light upon the water?

“Splendet tremulo sub lumine pontus. ”

Are not the organs of the senses of one kind with the organs of
reflection, the eye with a glass, the ear with a cave or strait,
determined and bounded? Neither are these only similitudes, as men of
narrow observation may conceive them to be, but the same footsteps of
nature, treading or printing upon several subjects or matters. This
science therefore (as I understand it) I may justly report as deficient;
for I see sometimes the profounder sort of wits, in handling some
particular argument, will now and then draw a bucket of water out of this
well for their present use; but the spring-head thereof seemeth to me not
to have been visited, being of so excellent use both for the disclosing
of nature and the abridgment of art.

VI. (1) This science being therefore first placed as a common parent like
unto Berecynthia, which had so much heavenly issue, _omnes cœlicolas_,
_omnes supera alta tenetes_; we may return to the former distribution of
the three philosophies—divine, natural, and human. And as concerning
divine philosophy or natural theology, it is that knowledge or rudiment
of knowledge concerning God which may be obtained by the contemplation of
His creatures; which knowledge may be truly termed divine in respect of
the object, and natural in respect of the light. The bounds of this
knowledge are, that it sufficeth to convince atheism, but not to inform
religion; and therefore there was never miracle wrought by God to convert
an atheist, because the light of nature might have led him to confess a
God; but miracles have been wrought to convert idolaters and the
superstitious, because no light of nature extendeth to declare the will
and true worship of God. For as all works do show forth the power and
skill of the workman, and not his image, so it is of the works of God,
which do show the omnipotency and wisdom of the Maker, but not His image.
And therefore therein the heathen opinion differeth from the sacred
truth: for they supposed the world to be the image of God, and man to be
an extract or compendious image of the world; but the Scriptures never
vouchsafe to attribute to the world that honour, as to be the image of
God, but only _the work of His hands_; neither do they speak of any other
image of God but man. Wherefore by the contemplation of nature to induce
and enforce the acknowledgment of God, and to demonstrate His power,
providence, and goodness, is an excellent argument, and hath been
excellently handled by divers, but on the other side, out of the
contemplation of nature, or ground of human knowledges, to induce any
verity or persuasion concerning the points of faith, is in my judgment
not safe; _Da fidei quæ fidei sunt_. For the heathen themselves conclude
as much in that excellent and divine fable of the golden chain, “That men
and gods were not able to draw Jupiter down to the earth; but,
contrariwise, Jupiter was able to draw them up to heaven. ” So as we
ought not to attempt to draw down or submit the mysteries of God to our
reason, but contrariwise to raise and advance our reason to the divine
truth. So as in this part of knowledge, touching divine philosophy, I am
so far from noting any deficience, as I rather note an excess; whereunto
I have digressed because of the extreme prejudice which both religion and
philosophy hath received and may receive by being commixed together; as
that which undoubtedly will make an heretical religion, and an imaginary
and fabulous philosophy.

(2) Otherwise it is of the nature of angels and spirits, which is an
appendix of theology, both divine and natural, and is neither inscrutable
nor interdicted.
For although the Scripture saith, “Let no man deceive
you in sublime discourse touching the worship of angels, pressing into
that he knoweth not,” &c. , yet notwithstanding if you observe well that
precept, it may appear thereby that there be two things only
forbidden—adoration of them, and opinion fantastical of them, either to
extol them further than appertaineth to the degree of a creature, or to
extol a man’s knowledge of them further than he hath ground. But the
sober and grounded inquiry, which may arise out of the passages of Holy
Scriptures, or out of the gradations of nature, is not restrained. So of
degenerate and revolted spirits, the conversing with them or the
employment of them is prohibited, much more any veneration towards them;
but the contemplation or science of their nature, their power, their
illusions, either by Scripture or reason, is a part of spiritual wisdom.
For so the apostle saith, “We are not ignorant of his stratagems. ” And
it is no more unlawful to inquire the nature of evil spirits, than to
inquire the force of poisons in nature, or the nature of sin and vice in
morality. But this part touching angels and spirits I cannot note as
deficient, for many have occupied themselves in it; I may rather
challenge it, in many of the writers thereof, as fabulous and
fantastical.

VII. (1) Leaving therefore divine philosophy or natural theology (not
divinity or inspired theology, which we reserve for the last of all as
the haven and sabbath of all man’s contemplations) we will now proceed to
natural philosophy. If then it be true that Democritus said, “That the
truth of nature lieth hid in certain deep mines and caves;” and if it be
true likewise that the alchemists do so much inculcate, that Vulcan is a
second nature, and imitateth that dexterously and compendiously, which
nature worketh by ambages and length of time, it were good to divide
natural philosophy into the mine and the furnace, and to make two
professions or occupations of natural philosophers—some to be pioneers
and some smiths; some to dig, and some to refine and hammer. And surely
I do best allow of a division of that kind, though in more familiar and
scholastical terms: namely, that these be the two parts of natural
philosophy—the inquisition of causes, and the production of effects;
speculative and operative; natural science, and natural prudence. For as
in civil matters there is a wisdom of discourse, and a wisdom of
direction; so is it in natural. And here I will make a request, that for
the latter (or at least for a part thereof) I may revive and reintegrate
the misapplied and abused name of natural magic, which in the true sense
is but natural wisdom, or natural prudence; taken according to the
ancient acception, purged from vanity and superstition. Now although it
be true, and I know it well, that there is an intercourse between causes
and effects, so as both these knowledges, speculative and operative, have
a great connection between themselves; yet because all true and fruitful
natural philosophy hath a double scale or ladder, ascendent and
descendent, ascending from experiments to the invention of causes, and
descending from causes to the invention of new experiments; therefore I
judge it most requisite that these two parts be severally considered and
handled.

(2) Natural science or theory is divided into physic and metaphysic;
wherein I desire it may be conceived that I use the word metaphysic in a
differing sense from that that is received. And in like manner, I doubt
not but it will easily appear to men of judgment, that in this and other
particulars, wheresoever my conception and notion may differ from the
ancient, yet I am studious to keep the ancient terms. For hoping well to
deliver myself from mistaking, by the order and perspicuous expressing of
that I do propound, I am otherwise zealous and affectionate to recede as
little from antiquity, either in terms or opinions, as may stand with
truth and the proficience of knowledge. And herein I cannot a little
marvel at the philosopher Aristotle, that did proceed in such a spirit of
difference and contradiction towards all antiquity; undertaking not only
to frame new words of science at pleasure, but to confound and extinguish
all ancient wisdom; insomuch as he never nameth or mentioneth an ancient
author or opinion, but to confute and reprove; wherein for glory, and
drawing followers and disciples, he took the right course. For certainly
there cometh to pass, and hath place in human truth, that which was noted
and pronounced in the highest truth:—_Veni in nomine partis_, _nec
recipits me_; _si quis venerit in nomine suo eum recipietis_. But in
this divine aphorism (considering to whom it was applied, namely, to
antichrist, the highest deceiver), we may discern well that the coming in
a man’s own name, without regard of antiquity or paternity, is no good
sign of truth, although it be joined with the fortune and success of an
_eum recipietis_. But for this excellent person Aristotle, I will think
of him that he learned that humour of his scholar, with whom it seemeth
he did emulate; the one to conquer all opinions, as the other to conquer
all nations. Wherein, nevertheless, it may be, he may at some men’s
hands, that are of a bitter disposition, get a like title as his scholar
did:—

“Felix terrarum prædo, non utile mundo
Editus exemplum, &c. ”

So,

“Felix doctrinæ prædo. ”

But to me, on the other side, that do desire as much as lieth in my pen
to ground a sociable intercourse between antiquity and proficience, it
seemeth best to keep way with antiquity _usque ad aras_; and, therefore,
to retain the ancient terms, though I sometimes alter the uses and
definitions, according to the moderate proceeding in civil government;
where, although there be some alteration, yet that holdeth which Tacitus
wisely noteth, _eadem magistratuum vocabula_.

(3) To return, therefore, to the use and acception of the term metaphysic
as I do now understand the word; it appeareth, by that which hath been
already said, that I intend _philosophia prima_, summary philosophy and
metaphysic, which heretofore have been confounded as one, to be two
distinct things. For the one I have made as a parent or common ancestor
to all knowledge; and the other I have now brought in as a branch or
descendant of natural science. It appeareth likewise that I have
assigned to summary philosophy the common principles and axioms which are
promiscuous and indifferent to several sciences; I have assigned unto it
likewise the inquiry touching the operation or the relative and adventive
characters of essences, as quantity, similitude, diversity, possibility,
and the rest, with this distinction and provision; that they be handled
as they have efficacy in nature, and not logically. It appeareth
likewise that natural theology, which heretofore hath been handled
confusedly with metaphysic, I have enclosed and bounded by itself. It is
therefore now a question what is left remaining for metaphysic; wherein I
may without prejudice preserve thus much of the conceit of antiquity,
that physic should contemplate that which is inherent in matter, and
therefore transitory; and metaphysic that which is abstracted and fixed.
And again, that physic should handle that which supposeth in nature only
a being and moving; and metaphysic should handle that which supposeth
further in nature a reason, understanding, and platform. But the
difference, perspicuously expressed, is most familiar and sensible. For
as we divided natural philosophy in general into the inquiry of causes
and productions of effects, so that part which concerneth the inquiry of
causes we do subdivide according to the received and sound division of
causes. The one part, which is physic, inquireth and handleth the
material and efficient causes; and the other, which is metaphysic,
handleth the formal and final causes.

(4) Physic (taking it according to the derivation, and not according to
our idiom for medicine) is situate in a middle term or distance between
natural history and metaphysic. For natural history describeth the
variety of things; physic the causes, but variable or respective causes;
and metaphysic the fixed and constant causes.

“Limus ut hic durescit, et hæc ut cera liquescit,
Uno eodemque igni. ”

Fire is the cause of induration, but respective to clay; fire is the
cause of colliquation, but respective to wax. But fire is no constant
cause either of induration or colliquation; so then the physical causes
are but the efficient and the matter. Physic hath three parts, whereof
two respect nature united or collected, the third contemplateth nature
diffused or distributed. Nature is collected either into one entire
total, or else into the same principles or seeds. So as the first
doctrine is touching the contexture or configuration of things, as _de
mundo_, _de universitate rerum_. The second is the doctrine concerning
the principles or originals of things. The third is the doctrine
concerning all variety and particularity of things; whether it be of the
differing substances, or their differing qualities and natures; whereof
there needeth no enumeration, this part being but as a gloss or
paraphrase that attendeth upon the text of natural history. Of these
three I cannot report any as deficient. In what truth or perfection they
are handled, I make not now any judgment; but they are parts of knowledge
not deserted by the labour of man.

(5) For metaphysic, we have assigned unto it the inquiry of formal and
final causes; which assignation, as to the former of them, may seem to be
nugatory and void, because of the received and inveterate opinion, that
the inquisition of man is not competent to find out essential forms or
true differences; of which opinion we will take this hold, that the
invention of forms is of all other parts of knowledge the worthiest to be
sought, if it be possible to be found. As for the possibility, they are
ill discoverers that think there is no land, when they can see nothing
but sea. But it is manifest that Plato, in his opinion of ideas, as one
that had a wit of elevation situate as upon a cliff, did descry that
forms were the true object of knowledge; but lost the real fruit of his
opinion, by considering of forms as absolutely abstracted from matter,
and not confined and determined by matter; and so turning his opinion
upon theology, wherewith all his natural philosophy is infected. But if
any man shall keep a continual watchful and severe eye upon action,
operation, and the use of knowledge, he may advise and take notice what
are the forms, the disclosures whereof are fruitful and important to the
state of man. For as to the forms of substances (man only except, of
whom it is said, _Formavit hominem de limo terræ_, _et spiravit in faciem
ejus spiraculum vitæ_, and not as of all other creatures, _Producant
aquæ_, _producat terra_), the forms of substances I say (as they are now
by compounding and transplanting multiplied) are so perplexed, as they
are not to be inquired; no more than it were either possible or to
purpose to seek in gross the forms of those sounds which make words,
which by composition and transposition of letters are infinite. But, on
the other side, to inquire the form of those sounds or voices which make
simple letters is easily comprehensible; and being known induceth and
manifesteth the forms of all words, which consist and are compounded of
them. In the same manner to inquire the form of a lion, of an oak, of
gold; nay, of water, of air, is a vain pursuit; but to inquire the forms
of sense, of voluntary motion, of vegetation, of colours, of gravity and
levity, of density, of tenuity, of heat, of cold, and all other natures
and qualities, which, like an alphabet, are not many, and of which the
essences (upheld by matter) of all creatures do consist; to inquire, I
say, the true forms of these, is that part of metaphysic which we now
define of. Not but that physic doth make inquiry and take consideration
of the same natures; but how? Only as to the material and efficient
causes of them, and not as to the forms. For example, if the cause of
whiteness in snow or froth be inquired, and it be rendered thus, that the
subtle intermixture of air and water is the cause, it is well rendered;
but, nevertheless, is this the form of whiteness? No; but it is the
efficient, which is ever but _vehiculum formæ_. This part of metaphysic
I do not find laboured and performed; whereat I marvel not; because I
hold it not possible to be invented by that course of invention which
hath been used; in regard that men (which is the root of all error) have
made too untimely a departure, and too remote a recess from particulars.

(6) But the use of this part of metaphysic, which I report as deficient,
is of the rest the most excellent in two respects: the one, because it is
the duty and virtue of all knowledge to abridge the infinity of
individual experience, as much as the conception of truth will permit,
and to remedy the complaint of _vita brevis_, _ars longa_; which is
performed by uniting the notions and conceptions of sciences. For
knowledges are as pyramids, whereof history is the basis. So of natural
philosophy, the basis is natural history; the stage next the basis is
physic; the stage next the vertical point is metaphysic. As for the
vertical point, _opus quod operatur Deus à principio usque ad finem_, the
summary law of nature, we know not whether man’s inquiry can attain unto
it. But these three be the true stages of knowledge, and are to them
that are depraved no better than the giants’ hills:—

“Ter sunt conati imponere Pelio Ossam,
Scilicet atque Ossæ frondsum involvere Olympum. ”

But to those which refer all things to the glory of God, they are as the
three acclamations, _Sante_, _sancte_, _sancte_! holy in the description
or dilatation of His works; holy in the connection or concatenation of
them; and holy in the union of them in a perpetual and uniform law. And,
therefore, the speculation was excellent in Parmenides and Plato,
although but a speculation in them, that all things by scale did ascend
to unity. So then always that knowledge is worthiest which is charged
with least multiplicity, which appeareth to be metaphysic; as that which
considereth the simple forms or differences of things, which are few in
number, and the degrees and co-ordinations whereof make all this variety.
The second respect, which valueth and commendeth this part of metaphysic,
is that it doth enfranchise the power of man unto the greatest liberty
and possibility of works and effects. For physic carrieth men in narrow
and restrained ways, subject to many accidents and impediments, imitating
the ordinary flexuous courses of nature. But _latæ undique sunt
sapientibus viæ_; to sapience (which was anciently defined to be _rerum
divinarum et humanarum scientia_) there is ever a choice of means. For
physical causes give light to new invention in _simili materia_. But
whosoever knoweth any form, knoweth the utmost possibility of
superinducing that nature upon any variety of matter; and so is less
restrained in operation, either to the basis of the matter, or the
condition of the efficient; which kind of knowledge Solomon likewise,
though in a more divine sense, elegantly describeth: _non arctabuntur
gressus tui_, _et currens non habebis offendiculum_. The ways of
sapience are not much liable either to particularity or chance.

(7) The second part of metaphysic is the inquiry of final causes, which I
am moved to report not as omitted, but as misplaced. And yet if it were
but a fault in order, I would not speak of it; for order is matter of
illustration, but pertaineth not to the substance of sciences. But this
misplacing hath caused a deficience, or at least a great improficience in
the sciences themselves. For the handling of final causes, mixed with
the rest in physical inquiries, hath intercepted the severe and diligent
inquiry of all real and physical causes, and given men the occasion to
stay upon these satisfactory and specious causes, to the great arrest and
prejudice of further discovery. For this I find done not only by Plato,
who ever anchoreth upon that shore, but by Aristotle, Galen, and others
which do usually likewise fall upon these flats of discoursing causes.
For to say that “the hairs of the eyelids are for a quickset and fence
about the sight;” or that “the firmness of the skins and hides of living
creatures is to defend them from the extremities of heat or cold;” or
that “the bones are for the columns or beams, whereupon the frames of the
bodies of living creatures are built;” or that “the leaves of trees are
for protecting of the fruit;” or that “the clouds are for watering of the
earth;” or that “the solidness of the earth is for the station and
mansion of living creatures;” and the like, is well inquired and
collected in metaphysic, but in physic they are impertinent. Nay, they
are, indeed, but _remoras_ and hindrances to stay and slug the ship from
further sailing; and have brought this to pass, that the search of the
physical causes hath been neglected and passed in silence. And,
therefore, the natural philosophy of Democritus and some others, who did
not suppose a mind or reason in the frame of things, but attributed the
form thereof able to maintain itself to infinite essays or proofs of
Nature, which they term fortune, seemeth to me (as far as I can judge by
the recital and fragments which remain unto us) in particularities of
physical causes more real and better inquired than that of Aristotle and
Plato; whereof both intermingled final causes, the one as a part of
theology, and the other as a part of logic, which were the favourite
studies respectively of both those persons; not because those final
causes are not true and worthy to be inquired, being kept within their
own province, but because their excursions into the limits of physical
causes hath bred a vastness and solitude in that tract. For otherwise,
keeping their precincts and borders, men are extremely deceived if they
think there is an enmity or repugnancy at all between them. For the
cause rendered, that “the hairs about the eyelids are for the safeguard
of the sight,” doth not impugn the cause rendered, that “pilosity is
incident to orifices of moisture—_muscosi fontes_, &c. ” Nor the cause
rendered, that “the firmness of hides is for the armour of the body
against extremities of heat or cold,” doth not impugn the cause rendered,
that “contraction of pores is incident to the outwardest parts, in regard
of their adjacence to foreign or unlike bodies;” and so of the rest, both
causes being true and compatible, the one declaring an intention, the
other a consequence only. Neither doth this call in question or derogate
from Divine Providence, but highly confirm and exalt it. For as in civil
actions he is the greater and deeper politique that can make other men
the instruments of his will and ends, and yet never acquaint them with
his purpose, so as they shall do it and yet not know what they do, than
he that imparteth his meaning to those he employeth; so is the wisdom of
God more admirable, when Nature intendeth one thing and Providence
draweth forth another, than if He had communicated to particular
creatures and motions the characters and impressions of His Providence.
And thus much for metaphysic; the latter part whereof I allow as extant,
but wish it confined to his proper place.

VIII. (1) Nevertheless, there remaineth yet another part of natural
philosophy, which is commonly made a principal part, and holdeth rank
with physic special and metaphysic, which is mathematic; but I think it
more agreeable to the nature of things, and to the light of order, to
place it as a branch of metaphysic. For the subject of it being
quantity, not quantity indefinite, which is but a relative, and belongeth
to _philosophia prima_ (as hath been said), but quantity determined or
proportionable, it appeareth to be one of the essential forms of things,
as that that is causative in Nature of a number of effects; insomuch as
we see in the schools both of Democritus and of Pythagoras that the one
did ascribe figure to the first seeds of things, and the other did
suppose numbers to be the principles and originals of things. And it is
true also that of all other forms (as we understand forms) it is the most
abstracted and separable from matter, and therefore most proper to
metaphysic; which hath likewise been the cause why it hath been better
laboured and inquired than any of the other forms, which are more
immersed in matter. For it being the nature of the mind of man (to the
extreme prejudice of knowledge) to delight in the spacious liberty of
generalities, as in a champaign region, and not in the inclosures of
particularity, the mathematics of all other knowledge were the goodliest
fields to satisfy that appetite. But for the placing of this science, it
is not much material: only we have endeavoured in these our partitions to
observe a kind of perspective, that one part may cast light upon another.

(2) The mathematics are either pure or mixed. To the pure mathematics
are those sciences belonging which handle quantity determinate, merely
severed from any axioms of natural philosophy; and these are two,
geometry and arithmetic, the one handling quantity continued, and the
other dissevered. Mixed hath for subject some axioms or parts of natural
philosophy, and considereth quantity determined, as it is auxiliary and
incident unto them. For many parts of Nature can neither be invented
with sufficient subtlety, nor demonstrated with sufficient perspicuity,
nor accommodated unto use with sufficient dexterity, without the aid and
intervening of the mathematics, of which sort are perspective, music,
astronomy, cosmography, architecture, engineery, and divers others. In
the mathematics I can report no deficience, except it be that men do not
sufficiently understand this excellent use of the pure mathematics, in
that they do remedy and cure many defects in the wit and faculties
intellectual. For if the wit be too dull, they sharpen it; if too
wandering, they fix it; if too inherent in the sense, they abstract it.
So that as tennis is a game of no use in itself, but of great use in
respect it maketh a quick eye and a body ready to put itself into all
postures, so in the mathematics that use which is collateral and
intervenient is no less worthy than that which is principal and intended.
And as for the mixed mathematics, I may only make this prediction, that
there cannot fail to be more kinds of them as Nature grows further
disclosed. Thus much of natural science, or the part of Nature
speculative.

(3) For natural prudence, or the part operative of natural philosophy, we
will divide it into three parts—experimental, philosophical, and magical;
which three parts active have a correspondence and analogy with the three
parts speculative, natural history, physic, and metaphysic. For many
operations have been invented, sometimes by a casual incidence and
occurrence, sometimes by a purposed experiment; and of those which have
been found by an intentional experiment, some have been found out by
varying or extending the same experiment, some by transferring and
compounding divers experiments the one into the other, which kind of
invention an empiric may manage. Again, by the knowledge of physical
causes there cannot fail to follow many indications and designations of
new particulars, if men in their speculation will keep one eye upon use
and practice. But these are but coastings along the shore, _premendo
littus iniquum_; for it seemeth to me there can hardly be discovered any
radical or fundamental alterations and innovations in Nature, either by
the fortune and essays of experiments, or by the light and direction of
physical causes. If, therefore, we have reported metaphysic deficient,
it must follow that we do the like of natural magic, which hath relation
thereunto. For as for the natural magic whereof now there is mention in
books, containing certain credulous and superstitious conceits and
observations of sympathies and antipathies, and hidden proprieties, and
some frivolous experiments, strange rather by disguisement than in
themselves, it is as far differing in truth of Nature from such a
knowledge as we require as the story of King Arthur of Britain, or Hugh
of Bourdeaux, differs from Cæsar’s Commentaries in truth of story; for it
is manifest that Cæsar did greater things _de vero_ than those imaginary
heroes were feigned to do. But he did them not in that fabulous manner.
Of this kind of learning the fable of Ixion was a figure, who designed to
enjoy Juno, the goddess of power, and instead of her had copulation with
a cloud, of which mixture were begotten centaurs and chimeras. So
whosoever shall entertain high and vaporous imaginations, instead of a
laborious and sober inquiry of truth, shall beget hopes and beliefs of
strange and impossible shapes. And, therefore, we may note in these
sciences which hold so much of imagination and belief, as this degenerate
natural magic, alchemy, astrology, and the like, that in their
propositions the description of the means is ever more monstrous than the
pretence or end. For it is a thing more probable that he that knoweth
well the natures of weight, of colour, of pliant and fragile in respect
of the hammer, of volatile and fixed in respect of the fire, and the
rest, may superinduce upon some metal the nature and form of gold by such
mechanic as longeth to the production of the natures afore rehearsed,
than that some grains of the medicine projected should in a few moments
of time turn a sea of quicksilver or other material into gold. So it is
more probable that he that knoweth the nature of arefaction, the nature
of assimilation of nourishment to the thing nourished, the manner of
increase and clearing of spirits, the manner of the depredations which
spirits make upon the humours and solid parts, shall by ambages of diets,
bathings, anointings, medicines, motions, and the like, prolong life, or
restore some degree of youth or vivacity, than that it can be done with
the use of a few drops or scruples of a liquor or receipt. To conclude,
therefore, the true natural magic, which is that great liberty and
latitude of operation which dependeth upon the knowledge of forms, I may
report deficient, as the relative thereof is. To which part, if we be
serious and incline not to vanities and plausible discourse, besides the
deriving and deducing the operations themselves from metaphysic, there
are pertinent two points of much purpose, the one by way of preparation,
the other by way of caution. The first is, that there be made a
calendar, resembling an inventory of the estate of man, containing all
the inventions (being the works or fruits of Nature or art) which are now
extant, and whereof man is already possessed; out of which doth naturally
result a note what things are yet held impossible, or not invented, which
calendar will be the more artificial and serviceable if to every reputed
impossibility you add what thing is extant which cometh the nearest in
degree to that impossibility; to the end that by these optatives and
potentials man’s inquiry may be the more awake in deducing direction of
works from the speculation of causes. And secondly, that these
experiments be not only esteemed which have an immediate and present use,
but those principally which are of most universal consequence for
invention of other experiments, and those which give most light to the
invention of causes; for the invention of the mariner’s needle, which
giveth the direction, is of no less benefit for navigation than the
invention of the sails which give the motion.

(4) Thus have I passed through natural philosophy and the deficiences
thereof; wherein if I have differed from the ancient and received
doctrines, and thereby shall move contradiction, for my part, as I affect
not to dissent, so I purpose not to contend. If it be truth,

“Non canimus surdis, respondent omnia sylvæ,”

the voice of Nature will consent, whether the voice of man do or no. And
as Alexander Borgia was wont to say of the expedition of the French for
Naples, that they came with chalk in their hands to mark up their
lodgings, and not with weapons to fight; so I like better that entry of
truth which cometh peaceably with chalk to mark up those minds which are
capable to lodge and harbour it, than that which cometh with pugnacity
and contention.

(5) But there remaineth a division of natural philosophy according to the
report of the inquiry, and nothing concerning the matter or subject: and
that is positive and considerative, when the inquiry reporteth either an
assertion or a doubt. These doubts or _non liquets_ are of two sorts,
particular and total. For the first, we see a good example thereof in
Aristotle’s Problems which deserved to have had a better continuance; but
so nevertheless as there is one point whereof warning is to be given and
taken. The registering of doubts hath two excellent uses: the one, that
it saveth philosophy from errors and falsehoods; when that which is not
fully appearing is not collected into assertion, whereby error might draw
error, but reserved in doubt; the other, that the entry of doubts are as
so many suckers or sponges to draw use of knowledge; insomuch as that
which if doubts had not preceded, a man should never have advised, but
passed it over without note, by the suggestion and solicitation of doubts
is made to be attended and applied. But both these commodities do
scarcely countervail and inconvenience, which will intrude itself if it
be not debarred; which is, that when a doubt is once received, men labour
rather how to keep it a doubt still, than how to solve it, and
accordingly bend their wits. Of this we see the familiar example in
lawyers and scholars, both which, if they have once admitted a doubt, it
goeth ever after authorised for a doubt. But that use of wit and
knowledge is to be allowed, which laboureth to make doubtful things
certain, and not those which labour to make certain things doubtful.
Therefore these calendars of doubts I commend as excellent things; so
that there he this caution used, that when they be thoroughly sifted and
brought to resolution, they be from thenceforth omitted, discarded, and
not continued to cherish and encourage men in doubting. To which
calendar of doubts or problems I advise be annexed another calendar, as
much or more material which is a calendar of popular errors: I mean
chiefly in natural history, such as pass in speech and conceit, and are
nevertheless apparently detected and convicted of untruth, that man’s
knowledge be not weakened nor embased by such dross and vanity. As for
the doubts or _non liquets_ general or in total, I understand those
differences of opinions touching the principles of nature, and the
fundamental points of the same, which have caused the diversity of sects,
schools, and philosophies, as that of Empedocles, Pythagoras, Democritus,
Parmenides, and the rest. For although Aristotle, as though he had been
of the race of the Ottomans, thought he could not reign except the first
thing he did he killed all his brethren; yet to those that seek truth and
not magistrality, it cannot but seem a matter of great profit, to see
before them the several opinions touching the foundations of nature. Not
for any exact truth that can be expected in those theories; for as the
same phenomena in astronomy are satisfied by this received astronomy of
the diurnal motion, and the proper motions of the planets, with their
eccentrics and epicycles, and likewise by the theory of Copernicus, who
supposed the earth to move, and the calculations are indifferently
agreeable to both, so the ordinary face and view of experience is many
times satisfied by several theories and philosophies; whereas to find the
real truth requireth another manner of severity and attention. For as
Aristotle saith, that children at the first will call every woman mother,
but afterward they come to distinguish according to truth, so experience,
if it be in childhood, will call every philosophy mother, but when it
cometh to ripeness it will discern the true mother. So as in the
meantime it is good to see the several glosses and opinions upon Nature,
whereof it may be everyone in some one point hath seen clearer than his
fellows, therefore I wish some collection to be made painfully and
understandingly _de antiquis philosophiis_, out of all the possible light
which remaineth to us of them: which kind of work I find deficient. But
here I must give warning, that it be done distinctly and severedly; the
philosophies of everyone throughout by themselves, and not by titles
packed and faggoted up together, as hath been done by Plutarch. For it
is the harmony of a philosophy in itself, which giveth it light and
credence; whereas if it be singled and broken, it will seem more foreign
and dissonant. For as when I read in Tacitus the actions of Nero or
Claudius, with circumstances of times, inducements, and occasions, I find
them not so strange; but when I read them in Suetonius Tranquillus,
gathered into titles and bundles and not in order of time, they seem more
monstrous and incredible: so is it of any philosophy reported entire, and
dismembered by articles. Neither do I exclude opinions of latter times
to be likewise represented in this calendar of sects of philosophy, as
that of Theophrastus Paracelsus, eloquently reduced into an harmony by
the pen of Severinus the Dane; and that of Tilesius, and his scholar
Donius, being as a pastoral philosophy, full of sense, but of no great
depth; and that of Fracastorius, who, though he pretended not to make any
new philosophy, yet did use the absoluteness of his own sense upon the
old; and that of Gilbertus our countryman, who revived, with some
alterations and demonstrations, the opinions of Xenophanes; and any other
worthy to be admitted.

(6) Thus have we now dealt with two of the three beams of man’s
knowledge; that is _radius directus_, which is referred to nature,
_radius refractus_, which is referred to God, and cannot report truly
because of the inequality of the medium. There resteth _radius
reflexus_, whereby man beholdeth and contemplateth himself.

IX. (1) We come therefore now to that knowledge whereunto the ancient
oracle directeth us, which is the knowledge of ourselves; which deserveth
the more accurate handling, by how much it toucheth us more nearly. This
knowledge, as it is the end and term of natural philosophy in the
intention of man, so notwithstanding it is but a portion of natural
philosophy in the continent of Nature. And generally let this be a rule,
that all partitions of knowledges be accepted rather for lines and veins
than for sections and separations; and that the continuance and
entireness of knowledge be preserved. For the contrary hereof hath made
particular sciences to become barren, shallow, and erroneous, while they
have not been nourished and maintained from the common fountain. So we
see Cicero, the orator, complained of Socrates and his school, that he
was the first that separated philosophy and rhetoric; whereupon rhetoric
became an empty and verbal art. So we may see that the opinion of
Copernicus, touching the rotation of the earth, which astronomy itself
cannot correct, because it is not repugnant to any of the _phenomena_,
yet natural philosophy may correct. So we see also that the science of
medicine if it be destituted and forsaken by natural philosophy, it is
not much better than an empirical practice. With this reservation,
therefore, we proceed to human philosophy or humanity, which hath two
parts: the one considereth man segregate or distributively, the other
congregate or in society; so as human philosophy is either simple and
particular, or conjugate and civil. Humanity particular consisteth of
the same parts whereof man consisteth: that is, of knowledges which
respect the body, and of knowledges that respect the mind. But before we
distribute so far, it is good to constitute. For I do take the
consideration in general, and at large, of human nature to be fit to be
emancipate and made a knowledge by itself, not so much in regard of those
delightful and elegant discourses which have been made of the dignity of
man, of his miseries, of his state and life, and the like adjuncts of his
common and undivided nature; but chiefly in regard of the knowledge
concerning the sympathies and concordances between the mind and body,
which being mixed cannot be properly assigned to the sciences of either.

(2) This knowledge hath two branches: for as all leagues and amities
consist of mutual intelligence and mutual offices, so this league of mind
and body hath these two parts: how the one discloseth the other, and how
the one worketh upon the other; discovery and impression. The former of
these hath begotten two arts, both of prediction or prenotion; whereof
the one is honoured with the inquiry of Aristotle, and the other of
Hippocrates. And although they have of later time been used to be
coupled with superstitions and fantastical arts, yet being purged and
restored to their true state, they have both of them a solid ground in
Nature, and a profitable use in life. The first is physiognomy, which
discovereth the disposition of the mind by the lineaments of the body.
The second is the exposition of natural dreams, which discovereth the
state of the body by the imaginations of the mind. In the former of
these I note a deficience. For Aristotle hath very ingeniously and
diligently handled the factures of the body, but not the gestures of the
body, which are no less comprehensible by art, and of greater use and
advantage. For the lineaments of the body do disclose the disposition
and inclination of the mind in general; but the motions of the
countenance and parts do not only so, but do further disclose the present
humour and state of the mind and will. For as your majesty saith most
aptly and elegantly, “As the tongue speaketh to the ear so the gesture
speaketh to the eye. ” And, therefore, a number of subtle persons, whose
eyes do dwell upon the faces and fashions of men, do well know the
advantage of this observation, as being most part of their ability;
neither can it be denied, but that it is a great discovery of
dissimulations, and a great direction in business.

(3) The latter branch, touching impression, hath not been collected into
art, but hath been handled dispersedly; and it hath the same relation or
_antistrophe_ that the former hath. For the consideration is
double—either how and how far the humours and affects of the body do
alter or work upon the mind, or, again, how and how far the passions or
apprehensions of the mind do alter or work upon the body. The former of
these hath been inquired and considered as a part and appendix of
medicine, but much more as a part of religion or superstition. For the
physician prescribeth cures of the mind in frenzies and melancholy
passions, and pretendeth also to exhibit medicines to exhilarate the
mind, to control the courage, to clarify the wits, to corroborate the
memory, and the like; but the scruples and superstitions of diet and
other regiment of the body in the sect of the Pythagoreans, in the heresy
of the Manichees, and in the law of Mahomet, do exceed. So likewise the
ordinances in the ceremonial law, interdicting the eating of the blood
and the fat, distinguishing between beasts clean and unclean for meat,
are many and strict; nay, the faith itself being clear and serene from
all clouds of ceremony, yet retaineth the use of fastlings, abstinences,
and other macerations and humiliations of the body, as things real, and
not figurative. The root and life of all which prescripts is (besides
the ceremony) the consideration of that dependency which the affections
of the mind are submitted unto upon the state and disposition of the
body. And if any man of weak judgment do conceive that this suffering of
the mind from the body doth either question the immortality, or derogate
from the sovereignty of the soul, he may be taught, in easy instances,
that the infant in the mother’s womb is compatible with the mother, and
yet separable; and the most absolute monarch is sometimes led by his
servants, and yet without subjection. As for the reciprocal knowledge,
which is the operation of the conceits and passions of the mind upon the
body, we see all wise physicians, in the prescriptions of their regiments
to their patients, do ever consider _accidentia animi_, as of great force
to further or hinder remedies or recoveries: and more specially it is an
inquiry of great depth and worth concerning imagination, how and how far
it altereth the body proper of the imaginant; for although it hath a
manifest power to hurt, it followeth not it hath the same degree of power
to help. No more than a man can conclude, that because there be
pestilent airs, able suddenly to kill a man in health, therefore there
should be sovereign airs, able suddenly to cure a man in sickness. But
the inquisition of this part is of great use, though it needeth, as
Socrates said, “a Delian diver,” being difficult and profound. But unto
all this knowledge _de communi vinculo_, of the concordances between the
mind and the body, that part of inquiry is most necessary which
considereth of the seats and domiciles which the several faculties of the
mind do take and occupate in the organs of the body; which knowledge hath
been attempted, and is controverted, and deserveth to be much better
inquired. For the opinion of Plato, who placed the understanding in the
brain, animosity (which he did unfitly call anger, having a greater
mixture with pride) in the heart, and concupiscence or sensuality in the
liver, deserveth not to be despised, but much less to be allowed. So,
then, we have constituted (as in our own wish and advice) the inquiry
touching human nature entire, as a just portion of knowledge to be
handled apart.

X. (1) The knowledge that concerneth man’s body is divided as the good of
man’s body is divided, unto which it referreth. The good of man’s body
is of four kinds—health, beauty, strength, and pleasure: so the
knowledges are medicine, or art of cure; art of decoration, which is
called cosmetic; art of activity, which is called athletic; and art
voluptuary, which Tacitus truly calleth _eruditus luxus_. This subject
of man’s body is, of all other things in nature, most susceptible of
remedy; but then that remedy is most susceptible of error; for the same
subtlety of the subject doth cause large possibility and easy failing,
and therefore the inquiry ought to be the more exact.

(2) To speak, therefore, of medicine, and to resume that we have said,
ascending a little higher: the ancient opinion that man was
_microcosmus_—an abstract or model of the world—hath been fantastically
strained by Paracelsus and the alchemists, as if there were to be found
in man’s body certain correspondences and parallels, which should have
respect to all varieties of things, as stars, planets, minerals, which
are extant in the great world. But thus much is evidently true, that of
all substances which nature hath produced, man’s body is the most
extremely compounded. For we see herbs and plants are nourished by earth
and water; beasts for the most part by herbs and fruits; man by the flesh
of beasts, birds, fishes, herbs, grains, fruits, water, and the manifold
alterations, dressings, and preparations of these several bodies before
they come to be his food and aliment. Add hereunto that beasts have a
more simple order of life, and less change of affections to work upon
their bodies, whereas man in his mansion, sleep, exercise, passions, hath
infinite variations: and it cannot be denied but that the body of man of
all other things is of the most compounded mass. The soul, on the other
side, is the simplest of substances, as is well expressed:

“Purumque reliquit
Æthereum sensum atque auraï simplicis ignem. ”

So that it is no marvel though the soul so placed enjoy no rest, if that
principle be true, that _Motus rerum est rapidus extra locum_, _placidus
in loco_. But to the purpose. This variable composition of man’s body
hath made it as an instrument easy to distemper; and, therefore, the
poets did well to conjoin music and medicine in Apollo, because the
office of medicine is but to tune this curious harp of man’s body and to
reduce it to harmony. So, then, the subject being so variable hath made
the art by consequent more conjectural; and the art being conjectural
hath made so much the more place to be left for imposture. For almost
all other arts and sciences are judged by acts or masterpieces, as I may
term them, and not by the successes and events. The lawyer is judged by
the virtue of his pleading, and not by the issue of the cause; this
master in this ship is judged by the directing his course aright, and not
by the fortune of the voyage; but the physician, and perhaps this
politique, hath no particular acts demonstrative of his ability, but is
judged most by the event, which is ever but as it is taken: for who can
tell, if a patient die or recover, or if a state be preserved or ruined,
whether it be art or accident? And therefore many times the impostor is
prized, and the man of virtue taxed. Nay, we see [the] weakness and
credulity of men is such, as they will often refer a mountebank or witch
before a learned physician. And therefore the poets were clear-sighted
in discerning this extreme folly when they made Æsculapius and Circe,
brother and sister, both children of the sun, as in the verses—

“Ipse repertorem medicinæ talis et artis
Fulmine Phœbigenam Stygias detrusit ad undas. ”

And again—

“Dives inaccessos ubi Solis filia lucos,” &c.

For in all times, in the opinion of the multitude, witches and old women
and impostors, have had a competition with physicians. And what
followeth? Even this, that physicians say to themselves, as Solomon
expresseth it upon a higher occasion, “If it befall to me as befalleth to
the fools, why should I labour to be more wise? ” And therefore I cannot
much blame physicians that they use commonly to intend some other art or
practice, which they fancy more than their profession; for you shall have
of them antiquaries, poets, humanists, statesmen, merchants, divines, and
in every of these better seen than in their profession; and no doubt upon
this ground that they find that mediocrity and excellency in their art
maketh no difference in profit or reputation towards their fortune: for
the weakness of patients, and sweetness of life, and nature of hope,
maketh men depend upon physicians with all their defects. But,
nevertheless, these things which we have spoken of are courses begotten
between a little occasion and a great deal of sloth and default; for if
we will excite and awake our observation, we shall see in familiar
instances what a predominant faculty the subtlety of spirit hath over the
variety of matter or form. Nothing more variable than faces and
countenances, yet men can bear in memory the infinite distinctions of
them; nay, a painter, with a few shells of colours, and the benefit of
his eye, and habit of his imagination, can imitate them all that ever
have been, are, or may be, if they were brought before him. Nothing more
variable than voices, yet men can likewise discern them personally: nay,
you shall have a _buffon_ or _pantomimus_ will express as many as he
pleaseth.