No More Learning

And thus much of the first disease or distemper of learning.

(5) The second which followeth is in nature worse than the former: for as
substance of matter is better than beauty of words, so contrariwise vain
matter is worse than vain words: wherein it seemeth the reprehension of
St. Paul was not only proper for those times, but prophetical for the
times following; and not only respective to divinity, but extensive to
all knowledge: _Devita profanas vocum novitates_, _et oppositiones falsi
nominis scientiæ_. For he assigneth two marks and badges of suspected
and falsified science: the one, the novelty and strangeness of terms; the
other, the strictness of positions, which of necessity doth induce
oppositions, and so questions and altercations. Surely, like as many
substances in nature which are solid do putrefy and corrupt into
worms;—so it is the property of good and sound knowledge to putrefy and
dissolve into a number of subtle, idle, unwholesome, and (as I may term
them) vermiculate questions, which have indeed a kind of quickness and
life of spirit, but no soundness of matter or goodness of quality. This
kind of degenerate learning did chiefly reign amongst the schoolmen, who
having sharp and strong wits, and abundance of leisure, and small variety
of reading, but their wits being shut up in the cells of a few authors
(chiefly Aristotle their dictator) as their persons were shut up in the
cells of monasteries and colleges, and knowing little history, either of
nature or time, did out of no great quantity of matter and infinite
agitation of wit spin out unto us those laborious webs of learning which
are extant in their books. For the wit and mind of man, if it work upon
matter, which is the contemplation of the creatures of God, worketh
according to the stuff and is limited thereby; but if it work upon
itself, as the spider worketh his web, then it is endless, and brings
forth indeed cobwebs of learning, admirable for the fineness of thread
and work, but of no substance or profit.

(6) This same unprofitable subtility or curiosity is of two sorts: either
in the subject itself that they handle, when it is a fruitless
speculation or controversy (whereof there are no small number both in
divinity and philosophy), or in the manner or method of handling of a
knowledge, which amongst them was this—upon every particular position or
assertion to frame objections, and to those objections, solutions; which
solutions were for the most part not confutations, but distinctions:
whereas indeed the strength of all sciences is, as the strength of the
old man’s faggot, in the bond. For the harmony of a science, supporting
each part the other, is and ought to be the true and brief confutation
and suppression of all the smaller sort of objections. But, on the other
side, if you take out every axiom, as the sticks of the faggot, one by
one, you may quarrel with them and bend them and break them at your
pleasure: so that, as was said of Seneca, _Verborum minutiis rerum
frangit pondera_, so a man may truly say of the schoolmen, _Quæstionum
minutiis scientiarum frangunt soliditatem_. For were it not better for a
man in fair room to set up one great light, or branching candlestick of
lights, than to go about with a small watch-candle into every corner?
And such is their method, that rests not so much upon evidence of truth
proved by arguments, authorities, similitudes, examples, as upon
particular confutations and solutions of every scruple, cavillation, and
objection; breeding for the most part one question as fast as it solveth
another; even as in the former resemblance, when you carry the light into
one corner, you darken the rest; so that the fable and fiction of Scylla
seemeth to be a lively image of this kind of philosophy or knowledge;
which was transformed into a comely virgin for the upper parts; but then
_Candida succinctam latrantibus inguina monstris_: so the generalities of
the schoolmen are for a while good and proportionable; but then when you
descend into their distinctions and decisions, instead of a fruitful womb
for the use and benefit of man’s life, they end in monstrous altercations
and barking questions. So as it is not possible but this quality of
knowledge must fall under popular contempt, the people being apt to
contemn truths upon occasion of controversies and altercations, and to
think they are all out of their way which never meet; and when they see
such digladiation about subtleties, and matters of no use or moment, they
easily fall upon that judgment of Dionysius of Syracusa, _Verba ista sunt
senum otiosorum_.

(7) Notwithstanding, certain it is that if those schoolmen to their great
thirst of truth and unwearied travail of wit had joined variety and
universality of reading and contemplation, they had proved excellent
lights, to the great advancement of all learning and knowledge; but as
they are, they are great undertakers indeed, and fierce with dark
keeping. But as in the inquiry of the divine truth, their pride inclined
to leave the oracle of God’s word, and to vanish in the mixture of their
own inventions; so in the inquisition of nature, they ever left the
oracle of God’s works, and adored the deceiving and deformed images which
the unequal mirror of their own minds, or a few received authors or
principles, did represent unto them. And thus much for the second
disease of learning.

(8) For the third vice or disease of learning, which concerneth deceit or
untruth, it is of all the rest the foulest; as that which doth destroy
the essential form of knowledge, which is nothing but a representation of
truth: for the truth of being and the truth of knowing are one, differing
no more than the direct beam and the beam reflected. This vice therefore
brancheth itself into two sorts; delight in deceiving and aptness to be
deceived; imposture and credulity; which, although they appear to be of a
diverse nature, the one seeming to proceed of cunning and the other of
simplicity, yet certainly they do for the most part concur: for, as the
verse noteth—

“Percontatorem fugito, nam garrulus idem est,”

an inquisitive man is a prattler; so upon the like reason a credulous man
is a deceiver: as we see it in fame, that he that will easily believe
rumours will as easily augment rumours and add somewhat to them of his
own; which Tacitus wisely noteth, when he saith, _Fingunt simul
creduntque_: so great an affinity hath fiction and belief.

(9) This facility of credit and accepting or admitting things weakly
authorised or warranted is of two kinds according to the subject: for it
is either a belief of history, or, as the lawyers speak, matter of fact;
or else of matter of art and opinion. As to the former, we see the
experience and inconvenience of this error in ecclesiastical history;
which hath too easily received and registered reports and narrations of
miracles wrought by martyrs, hermits, or monks of the desert, and other
holy men, and their relics, shrines, chapels and images: which though
they had a passage for a time by the ignorance of the people, the
superstitious simplicity of some and the politic toleration of others
holding them but as divine poesies, yet after a period of time, when the
mist began to clear up, they grew to be esteemed but as old wives’
fables, impostures of the clergy, illusions of spirits, and badges of
Antichrist, to the great scandal and detriment of religion.

(10) So in natural history, we see there hath not been that choice and
judgment used as ought to have been; as may appear in the writings of
Plinius, Cardanus, Albertus, and divers of the Arabians, being fraught
with much fabulous matter, a great part not only untried, but notoriously
untrue, to the great derogation of the credit of natural philosophy with
the grave and sober kind of wits: wherein the wisdom and integrity of
Aristotle is worthy to be observed, that, having made so diligent and
exquisite a history of living creatures, hath mingled it sparingly with
any vain or feigned matter; and yet on the other side hath cast all
prodigious narrations, which he thought worthy the recording, into one
book, excellently discerning that matter of manifest truth, such
whereupon observation and rule was to be built, was not to be mingled or
weakened with matter of doubtful credit; and yet again, that rarities and
reports that seem uncredible are not to be suppressed or denied to the
memory of men.

(11) And as for the facility of credit which is yielded to arts and
opinions, it is likewise of two kinds; either when too much belief is
attributed to the arts themselves, or to certain authors in any art. The
sciences themselves, which have had better intelligence and confederacy
with the imagination of man than with his reason, are three in number:
astrology, natural magic, and alchemy; of which sciences, nevertheless,
the ends or pretences are noble. For astrology pretendeth to discover
that correspondence or concatenation which is between the superior globe
and the inferior; natural magic pretendeth to call and reduce natural
philosophy from variety of speculations to the magnitude of works; and
alchemy pretendeth to make separation of all the unlike parts of bodies
which in mixtures of natures are incorporate. But the derivations and
prosecutions to these ends, both in the theories and in the practices,
are full of error and vanity; which the great professors themselves have
sought to veil over and conceal by enigmatical writings, and referring
themselves to auricular traditions and such other devices, to save the
credit of impostures. And yet surely to alchemy this right is due, that
it may be compared to the husbandman whereof Æsop makes the fable; that,
when he died, told his sons that he had left unto them gold buried
underground in his vineyard; and they digged over all the ground, and
gold they found none; but by reason of their stirring and digging the
mould about the roots of their vines, they had a great vintage the year
following: so assuredly the search and stir to make gold hath brought to
light a great number of good and fruitful inventions and experiments, as
well for the disclosing of nature as for the use of man’s life.

(12) And as for the overmuch credit that hath been given unto authors in
sciences, in making them dictators, that their words should stand, and
not consuls, to give advice; the damage is infinite that sciences have
received thereby, as the principal cause that hath kept them low at a
stay without growth or advancement. For hence it hath come, that in arts
mechanical the first deviser comes shortest, and time addeth and
perfecteth; but in sciences the first author goeth furthest, and time
leeseth and corrupteth. So we see artillery, sailing, printing, and the
like, were grossly managed at the first, and by time accommodated and
refined; but contrariwise, the philosophies and sciences of Aristotle,
Plato, Democritus, Hippocrates, Euclides, Archimedes, of most vigour at
the first, and by time degenerate and imbased: whereof the reason is no
other, but that in the former many wits and industries have contributed
in one; and in the latter many wits and industries have been spent about
the wit of some one, whom many times they have rather depraved than
illustrated; for, as water will not ascend higher than the level of the
first spring-head from whence it descendeth, so knowledge derived from
Aristotle, and exempted from liberty of examination, will not rise again
higher than the knowledge of Aristotle. And, therefore, although the
position be good, _Oportet discentem credere_, yet it must be coupled
with this, _Oportet edoctum judicare_; for disciples do owe unto masters
only a temporary belief and a suspension of their own judgment till they
be fully instructed, and not an absolute resignation or perpetual
captivity; and therefore, to conclude this point, I will say no more, but
so let great authors have their due, as time, which is the author of
authors, be not deprived of his due—which is, further and further to
discover truth. Thus have I gone over these three diseases of learning;
besides the which there are some other rather peccant humours than formed
diseases, which, nevertheless, are not so secret and intrinsic, but that
they fall under a popular observation and traducement, and, therefore,
are not to be passed over.

V. (1) The first of these is the extreme affecting of two extremities:
the one antiquity, the other novelty; wherein it seemeth the children of
time do take after the nature and malice of the father. For as he
devoureth his children, so one of them seeketh to devour and suppress the
other; while antiquity envieth there should be new additions, and novelty
cannot be content to add but it must deface; surely the advice of the
prophet is the true direction in this matter, _State super vias
antiquas_, _et videte quænam sit via recta et bona et ambulate in ea_.
Antiquity deserveth that reverence, that men should make a stand
thereupon and discover what is the best way; but when the discovery is
well taken, then to make progression. And to speak truly, _Antiquitas
sæculi juventus mundi_. These times are the ancient times, when the
world is ancient, and not those which we account ancient _ordine
retrogrado_, by a computation backward from ourselves.

(2) Another error induced by the former is a distrust that anything
should be now to be found out, which the world should have missed and
passed over so long time: as if the same objection were to be made to
time that Lucian maketh to Jupiter and other the heathen gods; of which
he wondereth that they begot so many children in old time, and begot none
in his time; and asketh whether they were become septuagenary, or whether
the law _Papia_, made against old men’s marriages, had restrained them.
So it seemeth men doubt lest time is become past children and generation;
wherein contrariwise we see commonly the levity and unconstancy of men’s
judgments, which, till a matter be done, wonder that it can be done; and
as soon as it is done, wonder again that it was no sooner done: as we see
in the expedition of Alexander into Asia, which at first was prejudged as
a vast and impossible enterprise; and yet afterwards it pleaseth Livy to
make no more of it than this, _Nil aliud quàm bene ausus vana
contemnere_. And the same happened to Columbus in the western
navigation. But in intellectual matters it is much more common, as may
be seen in most of the propositions of Euclid; which till they be
demonstrate, they seem strange to our assent; but being demonstrate, our
mind accepteth of them by a kind of relation (as the lawyers speak), as
if we had known them before.

(3) Another error, that hath also some affinity with the former, is a
conceit that of former opinions or sects after variety and examination
the best hath still prevailed and suppressed the rest; so as if a man
should begin the labour of a new search, he were but like to light upon
somewhat formerly rejected, and by rejection brought into oblivion; as if
the multitude, or the wisest for the multitude’s sake, were not ready to
give passage rather to that which is popular and superficial than to that
which is substantial and profound for the truth is, that time seemeth to
be of the nature of a river or stream, which carrieth down to us that
which is light and blown up, and sinketh and drowneth that which is
weighty and solid.

(4) Another error, of a diverse nature from all the former, is the
over-early and peremptory reduction of knowledge into arts and methods;
from which time commonly sciences receive small or no augmentation. But
as young men, when they knit and shape perfectly, do seldom grow to a
further stature, so knowledge, while it is in aphorisms and observations,
it is in growth; but when it once is comprehended in exact methods, it
may, perchance, be further polished, and illustrate and accommodated for
use and practice, but it increaseth no more in bulk and substance.

(5) Another error which doth succeed that which we last mentioned is,
that after the distribution of particular arts and sciences, men have
abandoned universality, or _philosophia prima_, which cannot but cease
and stop all progression. For no perfect discovery can be made upon a
flat or a level; neither is it possible to discover the more remote and
deeper parts of any science if you stand but upon the level of the same
science, and ascend not to a higher science.

(6) Another error hath proceeded from too great a reverence, and a kind
of adoration of the mind and understanding of man; by means whereof, men
have withdrawn themselves too much from the contemplation of nature, and
the observations of experience, and have tumbled up and down in their own
reason and conceits. Upon these intellectualists, which are
notwithstanding commonly taken for the most sublime and divine
philosophers, Heraclitus gave a just censure, saying:—“Men sought truth
in their own little worlds, and not in the great and common world;” for
they disdain to spell, and so by degrees to read in the volume of God’s
works; and contrariwise by continual meditation and agitation of wit do
urge and, as it were, invocate their own spirits to divine and give
oracles unto them, whereby they are deservedly deluded.

(7) Another error that hath some connection with this latter is, that men
have used to infect their meditations, opinions, and doctrines with some
conceits which they have most admired, or some sciences which they have
most applied, and given all things else a tincture according to them,
utterly untrue and improper. So hath Plato intermingled his philosophy
with theology, and Aristotle with logic; and the second school of Plato,
Proclus and the rest, with the mathematics; for these were the arts which
had a kind of primogeniture with them severally. So have the alchemists
made a philosophy out of a few experiments of the furnace; and Gilbertus
our countryman hath made a philosophy out of the observations of a
loadstone. So Cicero, when reciting the several opinions of the nature
of the soul, he found a musician that held the soul was but a harmony,
saith pleasantly, _Hic ab arte sua non recessit_, _&c. _ But of these
conceits Aristotle speaketh seriously and wisely when he saith, _Qui
respiciunt ad pauca de facili pronunciant_.

(8) Another error is an impatience of doubt, and haste to assertion
without due and mature suspension of judgment. For the two ways of
contemplation are not unlike the two ways of action commonly spoken of by
the ancients: the one plain and smooth in the beginning, and in the end
impassable; the other rough and troublesome in the entrance, but after a
while fair and even. So it is in contemplation: if a man will begin with
certainties, he shall end in doubts; but if he will be content to begin
with doubts, he shall end in certainties.

(9) Another error is in the manner of the tradition and delivery of
knowledge, which is for the most part magistral and peremptory, and not
ingenuous and faithful; in a sort as may be soonest believed, and not
easiest examined. It is true, that in compendious treatises for practice
that form is not to be disallowed; but in the true handling of knowledge
men ought not to fall either on the one side into the vein of Velleius
the Epicurean, _Nil tam metuens quam ne dubitare aliqua de revideretur_:
nor, on the other side, into Socrates, his ironical doubting of all
things; but to propound things sincerely with more or less asseveration,
as they stand in a man’s own judgment proved more or less.

(10) Other errors there are in the scope that men propound to themselves,
whereunto they bend their endeavours; for, whereas the more constant and
devote kind of professors of any science ought to propound to themselves
to make some additions to their science, they convert their labours to
aspire to certain second prizes: as to be a profound interpreter or
commentor, to be a sharp champion or defender, to be a methodical
compounder or abridger, and so the patrimony of knowledge cometh to be
sometimes improved, but seldom augmented.

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

“Declinat cursus, aurumque volubile tollit. ” {39}

Neither is my meaning, as was spoken of Socrates, to call philosophy down
from heaven to converse upon the earth—that is, to leave natural
philosophy aside, and to apply knowledge only to manners and policy. But
as both heaven and earth do conspire and contribute to the use and
benefit of man, so the end ought to be, from both philosophies to
separate and reject vain speculations, and whatsoever is empty and void,
and to preserve and augment whatsoever is solid and fruitful; that
knowledge may not be as a courtesan, for pleasure and vanity only, or as
a bond-woman, to acquire and gain to her master’s use; but as a spouse,
for generation, fruit, and comfort.

(12) Thus have I described and opened, as by a kind of dissection, those
peccant humours (the principal of them) which have not only given
impediment to the proficience of learning, but have given also occasion
to the traducement thereof: wherein, if I have been too plain, it must be
remembered, _fidelia vulnera amantis_, _sed dolosa oscula malignantis_.
This I think I have gained, that I ought to be the better believed in
that which I shall say pertaining to commendation; because I have
proceeded so freely in that which concerneth censure. And yet I have no
purpose to enter into a laudative of learning, or to make a hymn to the
Muses (though I am of opinion that it is long since their rites were duly
celebrated), but my intent is, without varnish or amplification justly to
weigh the dignity of knowledge in the balance with other things, and to
take the true value thereof by testimonies and arguments, divine and
human.

VI. (1) First, therefore, let us seek the dignity of knowledge in the
archetype or first platform, which is in the attributes and acts of God,
as far as they are revealed to man and may be observed with sobriety;
wherein we may not seek it by the name of learning, for all learning is
knowledge acquired, and all knowledge in God is original, and therefore
we must look for it by another name, that of wisdom or sapience, as the
Scriptures call it.

(2) It is so, then, that in the work of the creation we see a double
emanation of virtue from God; the one referring more properly to power,
the other to wisdom; the one expressed in making the subsistence of the
matter, and the other in disposing the beauty of the form. This being
supposed, it is to be observed that for anything which appeareth in the
history of the creation, the confused mass and matter of heaven and earth
was made in a moment, and the order and disposition of that chaos or mass
was the work of six days; such a note of difference it pleased God to put
upon the works of power, and the works of wisdom; wherewith concurreth,
that in the former it is not set down that God said, “Let there be heaven
and earth,” as it is set down of the works following; but actually, that
God made heaven and earth: the one carrying the style of a manufacture,
and the other of a law, decree, or counsel.

(3) To proceed, to that which is next in order from God, to spirits: we
find, as far as credit is to be given to the celestial hierarchy of that
supposed Dionysius, the senator of Athens, the first place or degree is
given to the angels of love, which are termed seraphim; the second to the
angels of light, which are termed cherubim; and the third, and so
following places, to thrones, principalities, and the rest, which are all
angels of power and ministry; so as this angels of knowledge and
illumination are placed before the angels of office and domination.

(4) To descend from spirits and intellectual forms to sensible and
material forms, we read the first form that was created was light, which
hath a relation and correspondence in nature and corporal things to
knowledge in spirits and incorporal things.

(5) So in the distribution of days we see the day wherein God did rest
and contemplate His own works was blessed above all the days wherein He
did effect and accomplish them.

(6) After the creation was finished, it is set down unto us that man was
placed in the garden to work therein; which work, so appointed to him,
could be no other than work of contemplation; that is, when the end of
work is but for exercise and experiment, not for necessity; for there
being then no reluctation of the creature, nor sweat of the brow, man’s
employment must of consequence have been matter of delight in the
experiment, and not matter of labour for the use. Again, the first acts
which man performed in Paradise consisted of the two summary parts of
knowledge; the view of creatures, and the imposition of names. As for
the knowledge which induced the fall, it was, as was touched before, not
the natural knowledge of creatures, but the moral knowledge of good and
evil; wherein the supposition was, that God’s commandments or
prohibitions were not the originals of good and evil, but that they had
other beginnings, which man aspired to know, to the end to make a total
defection from God and to depend wholly upon himself.

(7) To pass on: in the first event or occurrence after the fall of man,
we see (as the Scriptures have infinite mysteries, not violating at all
the truth of this story or letter) an image of the two estates, the
contemplative state and the active state, figured in the two persons of
Abel and Cain, and in the two simplest and most primitive trades of life;
that of the shepherd (who, by reason of his leisure, rest in a place, and
lying in view of heaven, is a lively image of a contemplative life), and
that of the husbandman, where we see again the favour and election of God
went to the shepherd, and not to the tiller of the ground.

(8) So in the age before the flood, the holy records within those few
memorials which are there entered and registered have vouchsafed to
mention and honour the name of the inventors and authors of music and
works in metal. In the age after the flood, the first great judgment of
God upon the ambition of man was the confusion of tongues; whereby the
open trade and intercourse of learning and knowledge was chiefly
imbarred.

(9) To descend to Moses the lawgiver, and God’s first pen: he is adorned
by the Scriptures with this addition and commendation, “That he was seen
in all the learning of the Egyptians,” which nation we know was one of
the most ancient schools of the world: for so Plato brings in the
Egyptian priest saying unto Solon, “You Grecians are ever children; you
have no knowledge of antiquity, nor antiquity of knowledge. ” Take a view
of the ceremonial law of Moses; you shall find, besides the prefiguration
of Christ, the badge or difference of the people of God, the exercise and
impression of obedience, and other divine uses and fruits thereof, that
some of the most learned Rabbins have travailed profitably and profoundly
to observe, some of them a natural, some of them a moral sense, or
reduction of many of the ceremonies and ordinances. As in the law of the
leprosy, where it is said, “If the whiteness have overspread the flesh,
the patient may pass abroad for clean; but if there be any whole flesh
remaining, he is to be shut up for unclean;” one of them noteth a
principle of nature, that putrefaction is more contagious before maturity
than after; and another noteth a position of moral philosophy, that men
abandoned to vice do not so much corrupt manners, as those that are half
good and half evil. So in this and very many other places in that law,
there is to be found, besides the theological sense, much aspersion of
philosophy.

(10) So likewise in that excellent hook of Job, if it be revolved with
diligence, it will be found pregnant and swelling with natural
philosophy; as for example, cosmography, and the roundness of the world,
_Qui extendit aquilonem super vacuum_, _et appendit terram super
nihilum_; wherein the pensileness of the earth, the pole of the north,
and the finiteness or convexity of heaven are manifestly touched. So
again, matter of astronomy: _Spiritus ejus ornavit cælos_, _et
obstetricante manu ejus eductus est Coluber tortuoses_. And in another
place, _Nunquid conjungere valebis micantes stellas Pleiadas_, _aut gyrum
Arcturi poteris dissipare_? Where the fixing of the stars, ever standing
at equal distance, is with great elegancy noted. And in another place,
_Qui facit Arcturum_, _et Oriona_, _et Hyadas_, _et interiora Austri_;
where again he takes knowledge of the depression of the southern pole,
calling it the secrets of the south, because the southern stars were in
that climate unseen. Matter of generation: _Annon sicut lac mulsisti
me_, _et sicut caseum coagulasti me_? &c. Matter of minerals: _Habet
argentum venarum suarum principia_; _et auro locus est in quo conflatur_,
_ferrum de terra tollitur_, _et lapis solutus calore in æs vertitur_; and
so forwards in that chapter.

(11) So likewise in the person of Solomon the king, we see the gift or
endowment of wisdom and learning, both in Solomon’s petition and in God’s
assent thereunto, preferred before all other terrene and temporal
felicity. By virtue of which grant or donative of God Solomon became
enabled not only to write those excellent parables or aphorisms
concerning divine and moral philosophy, but also to compile a natural
history of all verdure, from the cedar upon the mountain to the moss upon
the wall (which is but a rudiment between putrefaction and an herb), and
also of all things that breathe or move. Nay, the same Solomon the king,
although he excelled in the glory of treasure and magnificent buildings,
of shipping and navigation, of service and attendance, of fame and
renown, and the like, yet he maketh no claim to any of those glories, but
only to the glory of inquisition of truth; for so he saith expressly,
“The glory of God is to conceal a thing, but the glory of the king is to
find it out;” as if, according to the innocent play of children, the
Divine Majesty took delight to hide His works, to the end to have them
found out; and as if kings could not obtain a greater honour than to be
God’s playfellows in that game; considering the great commandment of wits
and means, whereby nothing needeth to be hidden from them.

(12) Neither did the dispensation of God vary in the times after our
Saviour came into the world; for our Saviour himself did first show His
power to subdue ignorance, by His conference with the priests and doctors
of the law, before He showed His power to subdue nature by His miracles.
And the coming of this Holy Spirit was chiefly figured and expressed in
the similitude and gift of tongues, which are but _vehicula scientiæ_.

(13) So in the election of those instruments, which it pleased God to use
for the plantation of the faith, notwithstanding that at the first He did
employ persons altogether unlearned, otherwise than by inspiration, more
evidently to declare His immediate working, and to abase all human wisdom
or knowledge; yet nevertheless that counsel of His was no sooner
performed, but in the next vicissitude and succession He did send His
divine truth into the world, waited on with other learnings, as with
servants or handmaids: for so we see St. Paul, who was only learned
amongst the Apostles, had his pen most used in the Scriptures of the New
Testament.

(14) So again we find that many of the ancient bishops and fathers of the
Church were excellently read and studied in all the learning of this
heathen; insomuch that the edict of the Emperor Julianus (whereby it was
interdicted unto Christians to be admitted into schools, lectures, or
exercises of learning) was esteemed and accounted a more pernicious
engine and machination against the Christian Faith than were all the
sanguinary prosecutions of his predecessors; neither could the emulation
and jealousy of Gregory, the first of that name, Bishop of Rome, ever
obtain the opinion of piety or devotion; but contrariwise received the
censure of humour, malignity, and pusillanimity, even amongst holy men;
in that he designed to obliterate and extinguish the memory of heathen
antiquity and authors. But contrariwise it was the Christian Church,
which, amidst the inundations of the Scythians on the one side from the
north-west, and the Saracens from the east, did preserve in the sacred
lap and bosom thereof the precious relics even of heathen learning, which
otherwise had been extinguished, as if no such thing had ever been.

(15) And we see before our eyes, that in the age of ourselves and our
fathers, when it pleased God to call the Church of Rome to account for
their degenerate manners and ceremonies, and sundry doctrines obnoxious
and framed to uphold the same abuses; at one and the same time it was
ordained by the Divine Providence that there should attend withal a
renovation and new spring of all other knowledges. And on the other side
we see the Jesuits, who partly in themselves, and partly by the emulation
and provocation of their example, have much quickened and strengthened
the state of learning; we see (I say) what notable service and reparation
they have done to the Roman see.

(16) Wherefore, to conclude this part, let it be observed, that there be
two principal duties and services, besides ornament and illustration,
which philosophy and human learning do perform to faith and religion.
The one, because they are an effectual inducement to the exaltation of
the glory of God. For as the Psalms and other Scriptures do often invite
us to consider and magnify the great and wonderful works of God, so if we
should rest only in the contemplation of the exterior of them as they
first offer themselves to our senses, we should do a like injury unto the
majesty of God, as if we should judge or construe of the store of some
excellent jeweller by that only which is set out toward the street in his
shop. The other, because they minister a singular help and preservative
against unbelief and error. For our Saviour saith, “You err, not knowing
the Scriptures, nor the power of God;” laying before us two books or
volumes to study, if we will be secured from error: first the Scriptures,
revealing the will of God, and then the creatures expressing His power;
whereof the latter is a key unto the former: not only opening our
understanding to conceive the true sense of the Scriptures by the general
notions of reason and rules of speech, but chiefly opening our belief, in
drawing us into a due meditation of the omnipotency of God, which is
chiefly signed and engraven upon His works. Thus much therefore for
divine testimony and evidence concerning the true dignity and value of
learning.

VII. (1) As for human proofs, it is so large a field, as in a discourse
of this nature and brevity it is fit rather to use choice of those things
which we shall produce, than to embrace the variety of them. First,
therefore, in the degrees of human honour amongst the heathen, it was the
highest to obtain to a veneration and adoration as a God. This unto the
Christians is as the forbidden fruit. But we speak now separately of
human testimony, according to which—that which the Grecians call
_apotheosis_, and the Latins _relatio inter divos_—was the supreme honour
which man could attribute unto man, specially when it was given, not by a
formal decree or act of state (as it was used among the Roman Emperors),
but by an inward assent and belief. Which honour, being so high, had
also a degree or middle term; for there were reckoned above human
honours, honours heroical and divine: in the attribution and distribution
of which honours we see antiquity made this difference; that whereas
founders and uniters of states and cities, lawgivers, extirpers of
tyrants, fathers of the people, and other eminent persons in civil merit,
were honoured but with the titles of worthies or demigods, such as were
Hercules, Theseus, Minus, Romulus, and the like; on the other side, such
as were inventors and authors of new arts, endowments, and commodities
towards man’s life, were ever consecrated amongst the gods themselves, as
was Ceres, Bacchus, Mercurius, Apollo, and others. And justly; for the
merit of the former is confined within the circle of an age or a nation,
and is like fruitful showers, which though they be profitable and good,
yet serve but for that season, and for a latitude of ground where they
fall; but the other is, indeed, like the benefits of heaven, which are
permanent and universal. The former again is mixed with strife and
perturbation, but the latter hath the true character of Divine Presence,
coming in _aura leni_, without noise or agitation.

(2) Neither is certainly that other merit of learning, in repressing the
inconveniences which grow from man to man, much inferior to the former,
of relieving the necessities which arise from nature, which merit was
lively set forth by the ancients in that feigned relation of Orpheus’
theatre, where all beasts and birds assembled, and, forgetting their
several appetites—some of prey, some of game, some of quarrel—stood all
sociably together listening unto the airs and accords of the harp, the
sound whereof no sooner ceased, or was drowned by some louder noise, but
every beast returned to his own nature; wherein is aptly described the
nature and condition of men, who are full of savage and unreclaimed
desires, of profit, of lust, of revenge; which as long as they give ear
to precepts, to laws, to religion, sweetly touched with eloquence and
persuasion of books, of sermons, of harangues, so long is society and
peace maintained; but if these instruments be silent, or that sedition
and tumult make them not audible, all things dissolve into anarchy and
confusion.

(3) But this appeareth more manifestly when kings themselves, or persons
of authority under them, or other governors in commonwealths and popular
estates, are endued with learning. For although he might be thought
partial to his own profession that said “Then should people and estates
be happy when either kings were philosophers, or philosophers kings;” yet
so much is verified by experience, that under learned princes and
governors there have been ever the best times: for howsoever kings may
have their imperfections in their passions and customs, yet, if they be
illuminate by learning, they have those notions of religion, policy, and
morality, which do preserve them and refrain them from all ruinous and
peremptory errors and excesses, whispering evermore in their ears, when
counsellors and servants stand mute and silent. And senators or
counsellors, likewise, which be learned, to proceed upon more safe and
substantial principles, than counsellors which are only men of
experience; the one sort keeping dangers afar off, whereas the other
discover them not till they come near hand, and then trust to the agility
of their wit to ward or avoid them.

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

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

(5) Trajan, who succeeded, was for his person not learned; but if we will
hearken to the speech of our Saviour, that saith, “He that receiveth a
prophet in the name of a prophet shall have a prophet’s reward,” he
deserveth to be placed amongst the most learned princes; for there was
not a greater admirer of learning or benefactor of learning, a founder of
famous libraries, a perpetual advancer of learned men to office, and
familiar converser with learned professors and preceptors who were noted
to have then most credit in court. On the other side how much Trajan’s
virtue and government was admired and renowned, surely no testimony of
grave and faithful history doth more lively set forth than that legend
tale of Gregorius Magnum, Bishop of Rome, who was noted for the extreme
envy he bare towards all heathen excellency; and yet he is reported, out
of the love and estimation of Trajan’s moral virtues, to have made unto
God passionate and fervent prayers for the delivery of his soul out of
hell, and to have obtained it, with a caveat that he should make no more
such petitions. In this prince’s time also the persecutions against the
Christians received intermission upon the certificate of Plinius
Secundus, a man of excellent learning and by Trajan advanced.

(6) Adrian, his successor, was the most curious man that lived, and the
most universal inquirer: insomuch as it was noted for an error in his
mind that he desired to comprehend all things, and not to reserve himself
for the worthiest things, falling into the like humour that was long
before noted in Philip of Macedon, who, when he would needs overrule and
put down an excellent musician in an argument touching music, was well
answered by him again—“God forbid, sir,” saith he, “that your fortune
should be so bad as to know these things better than I. ” It pleased God
likewise to use the curiosity of this emperor as an inducement to the
peace of His Church in those days; for having Christ in veneration, not
as a God or Saviour, but as a wonder or novelty, and having his picture
in his gallery matched with Apollonius (with whom in his vain imagination
he thought its had some conformity), yet it served the turn to allay the
bitter hatred of those times against the Christian name, so as the Church
had peace during his time. And for his government civil, although he did
not attain to that of Trajan’s in glory of arms or perfection of justice,
yet in deserving of the weal of the subject he did exceed him. For
Trajan erected many famous monuments and buildings, insomuch as
Constantine the Great in emulation was wont to call him _Parietaria_,
“wall-flower,” because his name was upon so many walls; but his buildings
and works were more of glory and triumph than use and necessity. But
Adrian spent his whole reign, which was peaceable, in a perambulation or
survey of the Roman Empire, giving order and making assignation where he
went for re-edifying of cities, towns, and forts decayed, and for cutting
of rivers and streams, and for making bridges and passages, and for
policing of cities and commonalties with new ordinances and
constitutions, and granting new franchises and incorporations; so that
his whole time was a very restoration of all the lapses and decays of
former times.

(7) Antoninus Pius, who succeeded him, was a prince excellently learned,
and had the patient and subtle wit of a schoolman, insomuch as in common
speech (which leaves no virtue untaxed) he was called _Cymini Sector_, a
carver or a divider of cummin seed, which is one of the least seeds.
Such a patience he had and settled spirit to enter into the least and
most exact differences of causes, a fruit no doubt of the exceeding
tranquillity and serenity of his mind, which being no ways charged or
encumbered, either with fears, remorses, or scruples, but having been
noted for a man of the purest goodness, without all fiction or
affectation, that hath reigned or lived, made his mind continually
present and entire. He likewise approached a degree nearer unto
Christianity, and became, as Agrippa said unto St. Paul, “half a
Christian,” holding their religion and law in good opinion, and not only
ceasing persecution, but giving way to the advancement of Christians.

(5) There succeeded him the first _Divi fratres_, the two adoptive
brethren—Lucius Commodus Verus, son to Ælius Verus, who delighted much in
the softer kind of learning, and was wont to call the poet Martial his
Virgil; and Marcus Aurelius Antoninus: whereof the latter, who obscured
his colleague and survived him long, was named the “Philosopher,” who, as
he excelled all the rest in learning, so he excelled them likewise in
perfection of all royal virtues; insomuch as Julianus the emperor, in his
book entitled _Cærsares_, being as a pasquil or satire to deride all his
predecessors, feigned that they were all invited to a banquet of the
gods, and Silenus the jester sat at the nether end of the table and
bestowed a scoff on everyone as they came in; but when Marcus Philosophus
came in, Silenus was gravelled and out of countenance, not knowing where
to carp at him, save at the last he gave a glance at his patience towards
his wife. And the virtue of this prince, continued with that of his
predecessor, made the name of Antoninus so sacred in the world, that
though it were extremely dishonoured in Commodus, Caracalla, and
Heliogabalus, who all bare the name, yet, when Alexander Severus refused
the name because he was a stranger to the family, the Senate with one
acclamation said, _Quomodo Augustus_, _sic et Antoninus_. In such renown
and veneration was the name of these two princes in those days, that they
would have had it as a perpetual addition in all the emperors’ style. In
this emperor’s time also the Church for the most part was in peace; so as
in this sequence of six princes we do see the blessed effects of learning
in sovereignty, painted forth in the greatest table of the world.

(9) But for a tablet or picture of smaller volume (not presuming to speak
of your Majesty that liveth), in my judgment the most excellent is that
of Queen Elizabeth, your immediate predecessor in this part of Britain; a
prince that, if Plutarch were now alive to write lives by parallels,
would trouble him, I think, to find for her a parallel amongst women.
This lady was endued with learning in her sex singular, and rare even
amongst masculine princes—whether we speak of learning, of language, or
of science, modern or ancient, divinity or humanity—and unto the very
last year of her life she accustomed to appoint set hours for reading,
scarcely any young student in a university more daily or more duly. As
for her government, I assure myself (I shall not exceed if I do affirm)
that this part of the island never had forty-five years of better tines,
and yet not through the calmness of the season, but through the wisdom of
her regiment. For if there be considered, of the one side, the truth of
religion established, the constant peace and security, the good
administration of justice, the temperate use of the prerogative, not
slackened, nor much strained; the flourishing state of learning, sortable
to so excellent a patroness; the convenient estate of wealth and means,
both of crown and subject; the habit of obedience, and the moderation of
discontents; and there be considered, on the other side, the differences
of religion, the troubles of neighbour countries, the ambition of Spain,
and opposition of Rome, and then that she was solitary and of herself;
these things, I say, considered, as I could not have chosen an instance
so recent and so proper, so I suppose I could not have chosen one more
remarkable or eminent to the purpose now in hand, which is concerning the
conjunction of learning in the prince with felicity in the people.

(10) Neither hath learning an influence and operation only upon civil
merit and moral virtue, and the arts or temperature of peace and
peaceable government; but likewise it hath no less power and efficacy in
enablement towards martial and military virtue and prowess, as may be
notably represented in the examples of Alexander the Great and Cæsar the
Dictator (mentioned before, but now in fit place to be resumed), of whose
virtues and acts in war there needs no note or recital, having been the
wonders of time in that kind; but of their affections towards learning
and perfections in learning it is pertinent to say somewhat.

(11) Alexander was bred and taught under Aristotle, the great
philosopher, who dedicated divers of his books of philosophy unto him; he
was attended with Callisthenes and divers other learned persons, that
followed him in camp, throughout his journeys and conquests. What price
and estimation he had learning in doth notably appear in these three
particulars: first, in the envy he used to express that he bare towards
Achilles, in this, that he had so good a trumpet of his praises as
Homer’s verses; secondly, in the judgment or solution he gave touching
that precious cabinet of Darius, which was found among his jewels
(whereof question was made what thing was worthy to be put into it, and
he gave his opinion for Homer’s works); thirdly, in his letter to
Aristotle, after he had set forth his books of nature, wherein he
expostulateth with him for publishing the secrets or mysteries of
philosophy; and gave him to understand that himself esteemed it more to
excel other men in learning and knowledge than in power and empire. And
what use he had of learning doth appear, or rather shine, in all his
speeches and answers, being full of science and use of science, and that
in all variety.

(12) And herein again it may seem a thing scholastical, and somewhat idle
to recite things that every man knoweth; but yet, since the argument I
handle leadeth me thereunto, I am glad that men shall perceive I am as
willing to flatter (if they will so call it) an Alexander, or a Cæsar, or
an Antoninus, that are dead many hundred years since, as any that now
liveth; for it is the displaying of the glory of learning in sovereignty
that I propound to myself, and not a humour of declaiming in any man’s
praises. Observe, then, the speech he used of Diogenes, and see if it
tend not to the true state of one of the greatest questions of moral
philosophy: whether the enjoying of outward things, or the contemning of
them, be the greatest happiness; for when he saw Diogenes so perfectly
contented with so little, he said to those that mocked at his condition,
“were I not Alexander, I would wish to be Diogenes. ” But Seneca
inverteth it, and saith, “_Plus erat_, _quod hic nollet accipere_, _quàm
quod ille posset dare_. ” There were more things which Diogenes would
have refused than those were which Alexander could have given or enjoyed.

(13) Observe, again, that speech which was usual with him,—“That he felt
his mortality chiefly in two things, sleep and lust;” and see if it were
not a speech extracted out of the depth of natural philosophy, and liker
to have come out of the mouth of Aristotle or Democritus than from
Alexander.

(14) See, again, that speech of humanity and poesy, when, upon the
bleeding of his wounds, he called unto him one of his flatterers, that
was wont to ascribe to him divine honour, and said, “Look, this is very
blood; this is not such a liquor as Homer speaketh of, which ran from
Venus’ hand when it was pierced by Diomedes. ”

(15) See likewise his readiness in reprehension of logic in the speech he
used to Cassander, upon a complaint that was made against his father
Antipater; for when Alexander happened to say, “Do you think these men
would have come from so far to complain except they had just cause of
grief? ” and Cassander answered, “Yea, that was the matter, because they
thought they should not be disproved;” said Alexander, laughing, “See the
subtleties of Aristotle, to take a matter both ways, _pro et contra_,
&c. ”

(16) But note, again, how well he could use the same art which he
reprehended to serve his own humour: when bearing a secret grudge to
Callisthenes, because he was against the new ceremony of his adoration,
feasting one night where the same Callisthenes was at the table, it was
moved by some after supper, for entertainment sake, that Callisthenes,
who was an eloquent man, might speak of some theme or purpose at his own
choice; which Callisthenes did, choosing the praise of the Macedonian
nation for his discourse, and performing the same with so good manner as
the hearers were much ravished; whereupon Alexander, nothing pleased,
said, “It was easy to be eloquent upon so good a subject; but,” saith he,
“turn your style, and let us hear what you can say against us;” which
Callisthenes presently undertook, and did with that sting and life that
Alexander interrupted him, and said, “The goodness of the cause made him
eloquent before, and despite made him eloquent then again. ”

(17) Consider further, for tropes of rhetoric, that excellent use of a
metaphor or translation, wherewith he taxeth Antipater, who was an
imperious and tyrannous governor; for when one of Antipater’s friends
commended him to Alexander for his moderation, that he did not degenerate
as his other lieutenants did into the Persian pride, in uses of purple,
but kept the ancient habit of Macedon, of black. “True,” saith
Alexander; “but Antipater is all purple within. ” Or that other, when
Parmenio came to him in the plain of Arbela and showed him the
innumerable multitude of his enemies, specially as they appeared by the
infinite number of lights as it had been a new firmament of stars, and
thereupon advised him to assail them by night; whereupon he answered,
“That he would not steal the victory. ”

(18) For matter of policy, weigh that significant distinction, so much in
all ages embraced, that he made between his two friends Hephæstion and
Craterus, when he said, “That the one loved Alexander, and the other
loved the king:” describing the principal difference of princes’ best
servants, that some in affection love their person, and other in duty
love their crown.

(19) Weigh also that excellent taxation of an error, ordinary with
counsellors of princes, that they counsel their masters according to the
model of their own mind and fortune, and not of their masters. When upon
Darius’ great offers Parmenio had said, “Surely I would accept these
offers were I as Alexander;” saith Alexander, “So would I were I as
Parmenio. ”

(20) Lastly, weigh that quick and acute reply which he made when he gave
so large gifts to his friends and servants, and was asked what he did
reserve for himself, and he answered, “Hope. ” Weigh, I say, whether he
had not cast up his account aright, because _hope_ must be the portion of
all that resolve upon great enterprises; for this was Cæsar’s portion
when he went first into Gaul, his estate being then utterly overthrown
with largesses. And this was likewise the portion of that noble prince,
howsoever transported with ambition, Henry Duke of Guise, of whom it was
usually said that he was the greatest usurer in France, because he had
turned all his estate into obligations.

(21) To conclude, therefore, as certain critics are used to say
hyperbolically, “That if all sciences were lost they might be found in
Virgil,” so certainly this may be said truly, there are the prints and
footsteps of learning in those few speeches which are reported of this
prince, the admiration of whom, when I consider him not as Alexander the
Great, but as Aristotle’s scholar, hath carried me too far.

(22) As for Julius Cæsar, the excellency of his learning needeth not to
be argued from his education, or his company, or his speeches; but in a
further degree doth declare itself in his writings and works: whereof
some are extant and permanent, and some unfortunately perished. For
first, we see there is left unto us that excellent history of his own
wars, which he entitled only a Commentary, wherein all succeeding times
have admired the solid weight of matter, and the real passages and lively
images of actions and persons, expressed in the greatest propriety of
words and perspicuity of narration that ever was; which that it was not
the effect of a natural gift, but of learning and precept, is well
witnessed by that work of his entitled _De Analogia_, being a grammatical
philosophy, wherein he did labour to make this same _Vox ad placitum_ to
become _Vox ad licitum_, and to reduce custom of speech to congruity of
speech; and took as it were the pictures of words from the life of
reason.

(23) So we receive from him, as a monument both of his power and
learning, the then reformed computation of the year; well expressing that
he took it to be as great a glory to himself to observe and know the law
of the heavens, as to give law to men upon the earth.

(24) So likewise in that book of his, _Anti-Cato_, it may easily appear
that he did aspire as well to victory of wit as victory of war:
undertaking therein a conflict against the greatest champion with the pen
that then lived, Cicero the orator.

(25) So, again, in his book of Apophthegms, which he collected, we see
that he esteemed it more honour to make himself but a pair of tables, to
take the wise and pithy words of others, than to have every word of his
own to be made an apophthegm or an oracle, as vain princes, by custom of
flattery, pretend to do. And yet if I should enumerate divers of his
speeches, as I did those of Alexander, they are truly such as Solomon
noteth, when he saith, _Verba sapientum tanquam aculei_, _et tanquam
clavi in altum defixi_: whereof I will only recite three, not so
delectable for elegancy, but admirable for vigour and efficacy.

(26) As first, it is reason he be thought a master of words, that could
with one word appease a mutiny in his army, which was thus: The Romans,
when their generals did speak to their army, did use the word _Milites_,
but when the magistrates spake to the people they did use the word
_Quirites_. The soldiers were in tumult, and seditiously prayed to be
cashiered; not that they so meant, but by expostulation thereof to draw
Cæsar to other conditions; wherein he being resolute not to give way,
after some silence, he began his speech, _Ego Quirites_, which did admit
them already cashiered—wherewith they were so surprised, crossed, and
confused, as they would not suffer him to go on in his speech, but
relinquished their demands, and made it their suit to be again called by
the name of _Milites_.

(27) The second speech was thus: Cæsar did extremely affect the name of
king; and some were set on as he passed by in popular acclamation to
salute him king. Whereupon, finding the cry weak and poor, he put it off
thus, in a kind of jest, as if they had mistaken his surname: _Non Rex
sum_, _sed Cæsar_; a speech that, if it be searched, the life and fulness
of it can scarce be expressed. For, first, it was a refusal of the name,
but yet not serious; again, it did signify an infinite confidence and
magnanimity, as if he presumed Cæsar was the greater title, as by his
worthiness it is come to pass till this day. But chiefly it was a speech
of great allurement toward his own purpose, as if the state did strive
with him but for a name, whereof mean families were vested; for _Rex_ was
a surname with the Romans, as well as _King_ is with us.

(28) The last speech which I will mention was used to Metellus, when
Cæsar, after war declared, did possess himself of this city of Rome; at
which time, entering into the inner treasury to take the money there
accumulate, Metellus, being tribune, forbade him. Whereto Cæsar said,
“That if he did not desist, he would lay him dead in the place. ” And
presently taking himself up, he added, “Young man, it is harder for me to
speak it than to do it—_Adolescens_, _durius est mihi hoc dicere quàm
facere_. ” A speech compounded of the greatest terror and greatest
clemency that could proceed out of the mouth of man.

(29) But to return and conclude with him, it is evident himself knew well
his own perfection in learning, and took it upon him, as appeared when
upon occasion that some spake what a strange resolution it was in Lucius
Sylla to resign his dictators, he, scoffing at him to his own advantage,
answered, “That Sylla could not skill of letters, and therefore knew not
how to dictate. ”

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

VIII. (1) To proceed now from imperial and military virtue to moral and
private virtue; first, it is an assured truth, which is contained in the
verses:—

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

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

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

(2) It were too long to go over the particular remedies which learning
doth minister to all the diseases of the mind: sometimes purging the ill
humours, sometimes opening the obstructions, sometimes helping digestion,
sometimes increasing appetite, sometimes healing the wounds and
exulcerations thereof, and the like; and, therefore, I will conclude with
that which hath _rationem totius_—which is, that it disposeth the
constitution of the mind not to be fixed or settled in the defects
thereof, but still to be capable and susceptible of growth and
reformation. For the unlearned man knows not what it is to descend into
himself, or to call himself to account, nor the pleasure of that
_suavissima vita_, _indies sentire se fieri meliorem_. The good parts he
hath he will learn to show to the full, and use them dexterously, but not
much to increase them. The faults he hath he will learn how to hide and
colour them, but not much to amend them; like an ill mower, that mows on
still, and never whets his scythe. Whereas with the learned man it fares
otherwise, that he doth ever intermix the correction and amendment of his
mind with the use and employment thereof. Nay, further, in general and
in sum, certain it is that _Veritas_ and _Bonitas_ differ but as the seal
and the print; for truth prints goodness, and they be the clouds of error
which descend in the storms of passions and perturbations.

(3) From moral virtue let us pass on to matter of power and commandment,
and consider whether in right reason there be any comparable with that
wherewith knowledge investeth and crowneth man’s nature. We see the
dignity of the commandment is according to the dignity of the commanded;
to have commandment over beasts as herdmen have, is a thing contemptible;
to have commandment over children as schoolmasters have, is a matter of
small honour; to have commandment over galley-slaves is a disparagement
rather than an honour. Neither is the commandment of tyrants much
better, over people which have put off the generosity of their minds;
and, therefore, it was ever holden that honours in free monarchies and
commonwealths had a sweetness more than in tyrannies, because the
commandment extendeth more over the wills of men, and not only over their
deeds and services. And therefore, when Virgil putteth himself forth to
attribute to Augustus Cæsar the best of human honours, he doth it in
these words:—

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

But yet the commandment of knowledge is yet higher than the commandment
over the will; for it is a commandment over the reason, belief, and
understanding of man, which is the highest part of the mind, and giveth
law to the will itself. For there is no power on earth which setteth up
a throne or chair of estate in the spirits and souls of men, and in their
cogitations, imaginations, opinions, and beliefs, but knowledge and
learning. And therefore we see the detestable and extreme pleasure that
arch-heretics, and false prophets, and impostors are transported with,
when they once find in themselves that they have a superiority in the
faith and conscience of men; so great as if they have once tasted of it,
it is seldom seen that any torture or persecution can make them
relinquish or abandon it. But as this is that which the author of the
Revelation calleth the depth or profoundness of Satan, so by argument of
contraries, the just and lawful sovereignty over men’s understanding, by
force of truth rightly interpreted, is that which approacheth nearest to
the similitude of the divine rule.

(4) As for fortune and advancement, the beneficence of learning is not so
confined to give fortune only to states and commonwealths, as it doth not
likewise give fortune to particular persons. For it was well noted long
ago, that Homer hath given more men their livings, than either Sylla, or
Cæsar, or Augustus ever did, notwithstanding their great largesses and
donatives, and distributions of lands to so many legions. And no doubt
it is hard to say whether arms or learning have advanced greater numbers.
And in case of sovereignty we see, that if arms or descent have carried
away the kingdom, yet learning hath carried the priesthood, which ever
hath been in some competition with empire.

(5) Again, for the pleasure and delight of knowledge and learning, it far
surpasseth all other in nature. For, shall the pleasures of the
affections so exceed the pleasure of the sense, as much as the obtaining
of desire or victory exceedeth a song or a dinner? and must not of
consequence the pleasures of the intellect or understanding exceed the
pleasures of the affections? We see in all other pleasures there is
satiety, and after they be used, their verdure departeth, which showeth
well they be but deceits of pleasure, and not pleasures; and that it was
the novelty which pleased, and not the quality. And, therefore, we see
that voluptuous men turn friars, and ambitions princes turn melancholy.
But of knowledge there is no satiety, but satisfaction and appetite are
perpetually interchangeable; and, therefore, appeareth to be good in
itself simply, without fallacy or accident. Neither is that pleasure of
small efficacy and contentment to the mind of man, which the poet
Lucretius describeth elegantly:—

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

“It is a view of delight,” saith he, “to stand or walk upon the shore
side, and to see a ship tossed with tempest upon the sea; or to be in a
fortified tower, and to see two battles join upon a plain. But it is a
pleasure incomparable, for the mind of man to be settled, landed, and
fortified in the certainty of truth; and from thence to descry and behold
the errors, perturbations, labours, and wanderings up and down of other
men. ”

(6) Lastly, leaving the vulgar arguments, that by learning man excelleth
man in that wherein man excelleth beasts; that by learning man ascendeth
to the heavens and their motions, where in body he cannot come; and the
like: let us conclude with the dignity and excellency of knowledge and
learning in that whereunto man’s nature doth most aspire, which is
immortality, or continuance; for to this tendeth generation, and raising
of houses and families; to this tend buildings, foundations, and
monuments; to this tendeth the desire of memory, fame, and celebration;
and in effect the strength of all other human desires. We see then how
far the monuments of wit and learning are more durable than the monuments
of power or of the hands. For have not the verses of Homer continued
twenty-five hundred years, or more, without the loss of a syllable or
letter; during which the infinite palaces, temples, castles, cities, have
been decayed and demolished? It is not possible to have the true
pictures or statues of Cyrus, Alexander, Cæsar, no nor of the kings or
great personages of much later years; for the originals cannot last, and
the copies cannot but leese of the life and truth. But the images of
men’s wits and knowledges remain in books, exempted from the wrong of
time and capable of perpetual renovation. Neither are they fitly to be
called images, because they generate still, and cast their seeds in the
minds of others, provoking and causing infinite actions and opinions in
succeeding ages. So that if the invention of the ship was thought so
noble, which carrieth riches and commodities from place to place, and
consociateth the most remote regions in participation of their fruits,
how much more are letters to be magnified, which as ships pass through
the vast seas of time, and make ages so distant to participate of the
wisdom, illuminations, and inventions, the one of the other? Nay,
further, we see some of the philosophers which were least divine, and
most immersed in the senses, and denied generally the immortality of the
soul, yet came to this point, that whatsoever motions the spirit of man
could act and perform without the organs of the body, they thought might
remain after death, which were only those of the understanding and not of
the affection; so immortal and incorruptible a thing did knowledge seem
unto them to be. But we, that know by divine revelation that not only
the understanding but the affections purified, not only the spirit but
the body changed, shall be advanced to immortality, do disclaim in these
rudiments of the senses. But it must be remembered, both in this last
point, and so it may likewise be needful in other places, that in
probation of the dignity of knowledge or learning, I did in the beginning
separate divine testimony from human, which method I have pursued, and so
handled them both apart.

(7) Nevertheless I do not pretend, and I know it will be impossible for
me, by any pleading of mine, to reverse the judgment, either of Æsop’s
cock, that preferred the barleycorn before the gem; or of Midas, that
being chosen judge between Apollo, president of the Muses, and Pan, god
of the flocks, judged for plenty; or of Paris, that judged for beauty and
love against wisdom and power; or of Agrippina, _occidat matrem_, _modo
imperet_, that preferred empire with any condition never so detestable;
or of Ulysses, _qui vetulam prætulit immortalitati_, being a figure of
those which prefer custom and habit before all excellency, or of a number
of the like popular judgments. For these things must continue as they
have been; but so will that also continue whereupon learning hath ever
relied, and which faileth not: _Justificata est sapientia a filiis suis_.




THE SECOND BOOK.


_To the King_.

1. IT might seem to have more convenience, though it come often
otherwise to pass (excellent King), that those which are fruitful in
their generations, and have in themselves the foresight of immortality in
their descendants, should likewise be more careful of the good estate of
future times, unto which they know they must transmit and commend over
their dearest pledges. Queen Elizabeth was a sojourner in the world in
respect of her unmarried life, and was a blessing to her own times; and
yet so as the impression of her good government, besides her happy
memory, is not without some effect which doth survive her. But to your
Majesty, whom God hath already blessed with so much royal issue, worthy
to continue and represent you for ever, and whose youthful and fruitful
bed doth yet promise many the like renovations, it is proper and
agreeable to be conversant not only in the transitory parts of good
government, but in those acts also which are in their nature permanent
and perpetual. Amongst the which (if affection do not transport me)
there is not any more worthy than the further endowment of the world with
sound and fruitful knowledge. For why should a few received authors
stand up like Hercules’ columns, beyond which there should be no sailing
or discovering, since we have so bright and benign a star as your Majesty
to conduct and prosper us? To return therefore where we left, it
remaineth to consider of what kind those acts are which have been
undertaken and performed by kings and others for the increase and
advancement of learning, wherein I purpose to speak actively, without
digressing or dilating.

2. Let this ground therefore be laid, that all works are over common by
amplitude of reward, by soundness of direction, and by the conjunction of
labours. The first multiplieth endeavour, the second preventeth error,
and the third supplieth the frailty of man. But the principal of these
is direction, for _claudus in via antevertit cursorem extra viam_; and
Solomon excellently setteth it down, “If the iron be not sharp, it
requireth more strength, but wisdom is that which prevaileth,” signifying
that the invention or election of the mean is more effectual than any
enforcement or accumulation of endeavours. This I am induced to speak,
for that (not derogating from the noble intention of any that have been
deservers towards the state of learning), I do observe nevertheless that
their works and acts are rather matters of magnificence and memory than
of progression and proficience, and tend rather to augment the mass of
learning in the multitude of learned men than to rectify or raise the
sciences themselves.

3. The works or acts of merit towards learning are conversant about
three objects—the places of learning, the books of learning, and the
persons of the learned. For as water, whether it be the dew of heaven or
the springs of the earth, doth scatter and leese itself in the ground,
except it be collected into some receptacle where it may by union comfort
and sustain itself; and for that cause the industry of man hath made and
framed springheads, conduits, cisterns, and pools, which men have
accustomed likewise to beautify and adorn with accomplishments of
magnificence and state, as well as of use and necessity; so this
excellent liquor of knowledge, whether it descend from divine
inspiration, or spring from human sense, would soon perish and vanish to
oblivion, if it were not preserved in books, traditions, conferences, and
places appointed, as universities, colleges, and schools, for the receipt
and comforting of the same.

4. The works which concern the seats and places of learning are
four—foundations and buildings, endowments with revenues, endowments with
franchises and privileges, institutions and ordinances for government—all
tending to quietness and privateness of life, and discharge of cares and
troubles; much like the stations which Virgil prescribeth for the hiving
of bees:

“Principio sedes apibus statioque petenda,
Quo neque sit ventis aditus, &c. ”

5. The works touching books are two—first, libraries, which are as the
shrines where all the relics of the ancient saints, full of true virtue,
and that without delusion or imposture, are preserved and reposed;
secondly, new editions of authors, with more correct impressions, more
faithful translations, more profitable glosses, more diligent
annotations, and the like.

6. The works pertaining to the persons of learned men (besides the
advancement and countenancing of them in general) are two—the reward and
designation of readers in sciences already extant and invented; and the
reward and designation of writers and inquirers concerning any parts of
learning not sufficiently laboured and prosecuted.

7. These are summarily the works and acts wherein the merits of many
excellent princes and other worthy personages, have been conversant. As
for any particular commemorations, I call to mind what Cicero said when
he gave general thanks, _Difficile non aliquem_, _ingratum quenquam
præterire_. Let us rather, according to the Scriptures, look unto that
part of the race which is before us, than look back to that which is
already attained.

8. First, therefore, amongst so many great foundations of colleges in
Europe, I find strange that they are all dedicated to professions, and
none left free to arts and sciences at large. For if men judge that
learning should be referred to action, they judge well; but in this they
fall into the error described in the ancient fable, in which the other
parts of the body did suppose the stomach had been idle, because it
neither performed the office of motion, as the limbs do, nor of sense, as
the head doth; but yet notwithstanding it is the stomach that digesteth
and distributeth to all the rest. So if any man think philosophy and
universality to be idle studies, he doth not consider that all
professions are from thence served and supplied. And this I take to be a
great cause that hath hindered the progression of learning, because these
fundamental knowledges have been studied but in passage. For if you will
have a tree bear more fruit than it hath used to do, it is not anything
you can do to the boughs, but it is the stirring of the earth and putting
new mould about thee roots that must work it. Neither is it to be
forgotten, that this dedicating of foundations and dotations to
professory learning hath not only had a malign aspect and influence upon
the growth of sciences, but hath also been prejudicial to states, and
governments. For hence it proceedeth that princes find a solitude in
regard of able men to serve them in causes of estate, because there is no
education collegiate which is free, where such as were so disposed might
give themselves in histories, modern languages, books of policy and civil
discourse, and other the like enablements unto service of estate.

9. And because founders of colleges do plant, and founders of lectures
do water, it followeth well in order to speak of the defect which is in
public lectures; namely, in the smallness, and meanness of the salary or
reward which in most places is assigned unto them, whether they be
lectures of arts, or of professions. For it is necessary to the
progression of sciences that readers be of the most able and sufficient
men; as those which are ordained for generating and propagating of
sciences, and not for transitory use. This cannot be, except their
condition and endowment be such as may content the ablest man to
appropriate his whole labour and continue his whole age in that function
and attendance; and therefore must have a proportion answerable to that
mediocrity or competency of advancement, which may be expected from a
profession or the practice of a profession. So as, if you will have
sciences flourish, you must observe David’s military law, which was,
“That those which stayed with the carriage should have equal part with
those which were in the action;” else will the carriages be ill attended.
So readers in sciences are indeed the guardians of the stores and
provisions of sciences, whence men in active courses are furnished, and
therefore ought to have equal entertainment with them; otherwise if the
fathers in sciences be of the weakest sort or be ill maintained,

“Et patrum invalidi referent jejunia nati. ”

10. Another defect I note, wherein I shall need some alchemist to help
me, who call upon men to sell their books, and to build furnaces;
quitting and forsaking Minerva and the Muses as barren virgins, and
relying upon Vulcan. But certain it is, that unto the deep, fruitful,
and operative study of many sciences, specialty natural philosophy and
physic, books be not only the instrumentals; wherein also the beneficence
of men hath not been altogether wanting. For we see spheres, globes,
astrolabes, maps, and the like, have been provided as appurtenances to
astronomy and cosmography, as well as books. We see likewise that some
places instituted for physic have annexed the commodity of gardens for
simples of all sorts, and do likewise command the use of dead bodies for
anatomies. But these do respect but a few things. In general, there
will hardly be any main proficience in the disclosing of nature, except
there be some allowance for expenses about experiments; whether they be
experiments appertaining to Vulcanus or Dædalus, furnace or engine, or
any other kind. And therefore as secretaries and spials of princes and
states bring in bills for intelligence, so you must allow the spials and
intelligencers of nature to bring in their bills; or else you shall be
ill advertised.

11. And if Alexander made such a liberal assignation to Aristotle of
treasure for the allowance of hunters, fowlers, fishers, and the like,
that he might compile a history of nature, much better do they deserve it
that travail in arts of nature.

12. Another defect which I note is an intermission or neglect in those
which are governors in universities, of consultation, and in princes or
superior persons, of visitation: to enter into account and consideration,
whether the readings, exercises, and other customs appertaining unto
learning, anciently begun and since continued, be well instituted or no;
and thereupon to ground an amendment or reformation in that which shall
be found inconvenient. For it is one of your Majesty’s own most wise and
princely maxims, “That in all usages and precedents, the times be
considered wherein they first began; which if they were weak or ignorant,
it derogateth from the authority of the usage, and leaveth it for
suspect. ” And therefore inasmuch as most of the usages and orders of the
universities were derived from more obscure times, it is the more
requisite they be re-examined. In this kind I will give an instance or
two, for example sake, of things that are the most obvious and familiar.
The one is a matter, which though it be ancient and general, yet I hold
to be an error; which is, that scholars in universities come too soon and
too unripe to logic and rhetoric, arts fitter for graduates than children
and novices. For these two, rightly taken, are the gravest of sciences,
being the arts of arts; the one for judgment, the other for ornament.
And they be the rules and directions how to set forth and dispose matter:
and therefore for minds empty and unfraught with matter, and which have
not gathered that which Cicero calleth _sylva_ and _supellex_, stuff and
variety, to begin with those arts (as if one should learn to weigh, or to
measure, or to paint the wind) doth work but this effect, that the wisdom
of those arts, which is great and universal, is almost made contemptible,
and is degenerate into childish sophistry and ridiculous affectation.
And further, the untimely learning of them hath drawn on by consequence
the superficial and unprofitable teaching and writing of them, as fitteth
indeed to the capacity of children. Another is a lack I find in the
exercises used in the universities, which do snake too great a divorce
between invention and memory. For their speeches are either premeditate,
in _verbis conceptis_, where nothing is left to invention, or merely
extemporal, where little is left to memory. Whereas in life and action
there is least use of either of these, but rather of intermixtures of
premeditation and invention, notes and memory. So as the exercise
fitteth not the practice, nor the image the life; and it is ever a true
rule in exercises, that they be framed as near as may be to the life of
practice; for otherwise they do pervert the motions and faculties of the
mind, and not prepare them. The truth whereof is not obscure, when
scholars come to the practices of professions, or other actions of civil
life; which when they set into, this want is soon found by themselves,
and sooner by others. But this part, touching the amendment of the
institutions and orders of universities, I will conclude with the clause
of Cæsar’s letter to Oppius and Balbes, _Hoc quemadmodum fieri possit_,
_nonnulla mihi in mentem veniunt_, _et multa reperiri possunt_: _de iis
rebus rgo vos ut cogitationem suscipiatis_.

13. Another defect which I note ascendeth a little higher than the
precedent. For as the proficience of learning consisteth much in the
orders and institutions of universities in the same states and kingdoms,
so it would be yet more advanced, if there were more intelligence mutual
between the universities of Europe than now there is. We see there be
many orders and foundations, which though they be divided under several
sovereignties and territories, yet they take themselves to have a kind of
contract, fraternity, and correspondence one with the other, insomuch as
they have provincials and generals. And surely as nature createth
brotherhood in families, and arts mechanical contract brotherhoods in
communalties, and the anointment of God superinduceth a brotherhood in
kings and bishops, so in like manner there cannot but be a fraternity in
learning and illumination, relating to that paternity which is attributed
to God, who is called the Father of illuminations or lights.

14. The last defect which I will note is, that there hath not been, or
very rarely been, any public designation of writers or inquirers
concerning such parts of knowledge as may appear not to have been already
sufficiently laboured or undertaken; unto which point it is an inducement
to enter into a view and examination what parts of learning have been
prosecuted, and what omitted. For the opinion of plenty is amongst the
causes of want, and the great quantity of books maketh a show rather of
superfluity than lack; which surcharge nevertheless is not to be remedied
by making no more books, but by making more good books, which, as the
serpent of Moses, might devour the serpents of the enchanters.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

(9) For lives, I do find strange that these times have so little esteemed
the virtues of the times, as that the writings of lives should be no more
frequent. For although there be not many sovereign princes or absolute
commanders, and that states are most collected into monarchies, yet are
there many worthy personages that deserve better than dispersed report or
barren eulogies.