No More Learning

Certainly vain-glory helpeth to perpetuate
a man's memory; and virtue was never so beholding to human nature, as
it received his due at the second hand. Neither had the fame of Cicero,
Seneca, Plinius Secundus, borne her age so well, if it had not been
joined with some vanity in themselves; like unto varnish, that makes
ceilings not only shine but last. But all this while, when I speak of
vain-glory, I mean not of that property, that Tacitus doth attribute
to Mucianus; Omnium quae dixerat feceratque arte quadam ostentator: for
that proceeds not of vanity, but of natural magnanimity and discretion;
and in some persons, is not only comely, but gracious. For excusations,
cessions, modesty itself well governed, are but arts of ostentation.
And amongst those arts, there is none better than that which Plinius
Secundus speaketh of, which is to be liberal of praise and commendation
to others, in that, wherein a man's self hath any perfection. For saith
Pliny, very wittily, In commending another, you do yourself right; for
he that you commend, is either superior to you in that you commend, or
inferior. If he be inferior, if he be to be commended, you much more;
if he be superior, if he be not to be commended, you much less. Glorious
men are the scorn of wise men, the admiration of fools, the idols of
parasites, and the slaves of their own vaunts.




Of Honor And Reputation


THE winning of honor, is but the revealing of a man's virtue and worth,
without disadvantage. For some in their actions, do woo and effect honor
and reputation, which sort of men, are commonly much talked of, but
inwardly little admired. And some, contrariwise, darken their virtue in
the show of it; so as they be undervalued in opinion. If a man perform
that, which hath not been attempted before; or attempted and given
over; or hath been achieved, but not with so good circumstance; he shall
purchase more honor, than by effecting a matter of greater difficulty or
virtue, wherein he is but a follower. If a man so temper his actions,
as in some one of them he doth content every faction, or combination
of people, the music will be the fuller. A man is an ill husband of his
honor, that entereth into any action, the failing wherein may disgrace
him, more than the carrying of it through, can honor him. Honor that
is gained and broken upon another, hath the quickest reflection, like
diamonds cut with facets. And therefore, let a man contend to excel any
competitors of his in honor, in outshooting them, if he can, in their
own bow. Discreet followers and servants, help much to reputation. Omnis
fama a domesticis emanat. Envy, which is the canker of honor, is best
extinguished by declaring a man's self in his ends, rather to seek
merit than fame; and by attributing a man's successes, rather to divine
Providence and felicity, than to his own virtue or policy.

The true marshalling of the degrees of sovereign honor, are these:
In the first place are conditores imperiorum, founders of states and
commonwealths; such as were Romulus, Cyrus, Caesar, Ottoman, Ismael.
In the second place are legislatores, lawgivers; which are also called
second founders, or perpetui principes, because they govern by their
ordinances after they are gone; such were Lycurgus, Solon, Justinian,
Eadgar, Alphonsus of Castile, the Wise, that made the Siete Partidas.
In the third place are liberatores, or salvatores, such as compound the
long miseries of civil wars, or deliver their countries from servitude
of strangers or tyrants; as Augustus Caesar, Vespasianus, Aurelianus,
Theodoricus, King Henry the Seventh of England, King Henry the Fourth of
France. In the fourth place are propagatores or propugnatores imperii;
such as in honorable wars enlarge their territories, or make noble
defence against invaders. And in the last place are patres patriae;
which reign justly, and make the times good wherein they live. Both
which last kinds need no examples, they are in such number. Degrees
of honor, in subjects, are, first participes curarum, those upon whom,
princes do discharge the greatest weight of their affairs; their right
hands, as we call them. The next are duces belli, great leaders in war;
such as are princes' lieutenants, and do them notable services in
the wars. The third are gratiosi, favorites; such as exceed not this
scantling, to be solace to the sovereign, and harmless to the people.
And the fourth, negotiis pares; such as have great places under princes,
and execute their places, with sufficiency. There is an honor, likewise,
which may be ranked amongst the greatest, which happeneth rarely; that
is, of such as sacrifice themselves to death or danger for the good of
their country; as was M. Regulus, and the two Decii.




Of Judicature


JUDGES ought to remember, that their office is jus dicere, and not jus
dare; to interpret law, and not to make law, or give law. Else will
it be like the authority, claimed by the Church of Rome, which under
pretext of exposition of Scripture, doth not stick to add and alter; and
to pronounce that which they do not find; and by show of antiquity, to
introduce novelty. Judges ought to be more learned, than witty, more
reverend, than plausible, and more advised, than confident. Above all
things, integrity is their portion and proper virtue. Cursed (saith the
law) is he that removeth the landmark. The mislayer of a mere-stone is
to blame. But it is the unjust judge, that is the capital remover of
landmarks, when he defineth amiss, of lands and property. One foul
sentence doth more hurt, than many foul examples. For these do but
corrupt the stream, the other corrupteth the fountain. So with Solomon,
Fons turbatus, et vena corrupta, est justus cadens in causa sua coram
adversario. The office of judges may have reference unto the parties
that use, unto the advocates that plead, unto the clerks and ministers
of justice underneath them, and to the sovereign or state above them.

First, for the causes or parties that sue. There be (saith the
Scripture) that turn judgment, into wormwood; and surely there be also,
that turn it into vinegar; for injustice maketh it bitter, and delays
make it sour. The principal duty of a judge, is to suppress force and
fraud; whereof force is the more pernicious, when it is open, and fraud,
when it is close and disguised. Add thereto contentious suits, which
ought to be spewed out, as the surfeit of courts. A judge ought to
prepare his way to a just sentence, as God useth to prepare his way, by
raising valleys and taking down hills: so when there appeareth on
either side an high hand, violent prosecution, cunning advantages taken,
combination, power, great counsel, then is the virtue of a judge seen,
to make inequality equal; that he may plant his judgment as upon an even
ground. Qui fortiter emungit, elicit sanguinem; and where the wine-press
is hard wrought, it yields a harsh wine, that tastes of the grape-stone.
Judges must beware of hard constructions, and strained inferences; for
there is no worse torture, than the torture of laws. Specially in case
of laws penal, they ought to have care, that that which was meant for
terror, be not turned into rigor; and that they bring not upon the
people, that shower whereof the Scripture speaketh, Pluet super eos
laqueos; for penal laws pressed, are a shower of snares upon the people.
Therefore let penal laws, if they have been sleepers of long, or if they
be grown unfit for the present time, be by wise judges confined in the
execution: Judicis officium est, ut res, ita tempora rerum, etc. In
causes of life and death, judges ought (as far as the law permitteth)
in justice to remember mercy; and to cast a severe eye upon the example,
but a merciful eye upon the person.

Secondly, for the advocates and counsel that plead. Patience and gravity
of hearing, is an essential part of justice; and an overspeaking judge
is no well-tuned cymbal. It is no grace to a judge, first to find that,
which he might have heard in due time from the bar; or to show quickness
of conceit, in cutting off evidence or counsel too short; or to prevent
information by questions, though pertinent. The parts of a judge
in hearing, are four: to direct the evidence; to moderate length,
repetition, or impertinency of speech; to recapitulate, select, and
collate the material points, of that which hath been said; and to
give the rule or sentence. Whatsoever is above these is too much; and
proceedeth either of glory, and willingness to speak, or of impatience
to hear, or of shortness of memory, or of want of a staid and equal
attention. It is a strange thing to see, that the boldness of advocates
should prevail with judges; whereas they should imitate God, in whose
seat they sit; who represseth the presumptuous, and giveth grace to the
modest. But it is more strange, that judges should have noted favorites;
which cannot but cause multiplication of fees, and suspicion of by-ways.
There is due from the judge to the advocate, some commendation and
gracing, where causes are well handled and fair pleaded; especially
towards the side which obtaineth not; for that upholds in the client,
the reputation of his counsel, and beats down in him the conceit of
his cause. There is likewise due to the public, a civil reprehension of
advocates, where there appeareth cunning counsel, gross neglect, slight
information, indiscreet pressing, or an overbold defence. And let not
the counsel at the bar, chop with the judge, nor wind himself into the
handling of the cause anew, after the judge hath declared his sentence;
but, on the other side, let not the judge meet the cause half way, nor
give occasion to the party, to say his counsel or proofs were not heard.

Thirdly, for that that concerns clerks and ministers. The place of
justice is an hallowed place; and therefore not only the bench, but the
foot-place; and precincts and purprise thereof, ought to be preserved
without scandal and corruption. For certainly grapes (as the Scripture
saith) will not be gathered of thorns or thistles; neither can justice
yield her fruit with sweetness, amongst the briars and brambles of
catching and polling clerks, and ministers. The attendance of courts, is
subject to four bad instruments. First, certain persons that are sowers
of suits; which make the court swell, and the country pine. The second
sort is of those, that engage courts in quarrels of jurisdiction, and
are not truly amici curiae, but parasiti curiae, in puffing a court up
beyond her bounds, for their own scraps and advantage. The third sort,
is of those that may be accounted the left hands of courts; persons that
are full of nimble and sinister tricks and shifts, whereby they pervert
the plain and direct courses of courts, and bring justice into oblique
lines and labyrinths. And the fourth, is the poller and exacter of fees;
which justifies the common resemblance of the courts of justice, to the
bush whereunto, while the sheep flies for defence in weather, he is sure
to lose part of his fleece. On the other side, an ancient clerk, skilful
in precedents, wary in proceeding, and understanding in the business of
the court, is an excellent finger of a court; and doth many times point
the way to the judge himself.

Fourthly, for that which may concern the sovereign and estate. Judges
ought above all to remember the conclusion of the Roman Twelve Tables;
Salus populi suprema lex; and to know that laws, except they be in order
to that end, are but things captious, and oracles not well inspired.
Therefore it is an happy thing in a state, when kings and states do
often consult with judges; and again, when judges do often consult with
the king and state: the one, when there is matter of law, intervenient
in business of state; the other, when there is some consideration of
state, intervenient in matter of law. For many times the things deduced
to judgment may be meum and tuum, when the reason and consequence
thereof may trench to point of estate: I call matter of estate, not
only the parts of sovereignty, but whatsoever introduceth any great
alteration, or dangerous precedent; or concerneth manifestly any great
portion of people. And let no man weakly conceive, that just laws
and true policy have any antipathy; for they are like the spirits and
sinews, that one moves with the other. Let judges also remember, that
Solomon's throne was supported by lions on both sides: let them be
lions, but yet lions under the throne; being circumspect that they do
not check or oppose any points of sovereignty. Let not judges also be
ignorant of their own right, as to think there is not left to them, as a
principal part of their office, a wise use and application of laws. For
they may remember, what the apostle saith of a greater law than theirs;
Nos scimus quia lex bona est, modo quis ea utatur legitime.




Of Anger


TO SEEK to extinguish anger utterly, is but a bravery of the Stoics. We
have better oracles: Be angry, but sin not. Let not the sun go down
upon your anger. Anger must be limited and confined, both in race and
in time. We will first speak how the natural inclination and habit to be
angry, may be attempted and calmed. Secondly, how the particular motions
of anger may be repressed, or at least refrained from doing mischief.
Thirdly, how to raise anger, or appease anger in another.

For the first; there is no other way but to meditate, and ruminate well
upon the effects of anger, how it troubles man's life. And the best time
to do this, is to look back upon anger, when the fit is thoroughly over.
Seneca saith well, That anger is like ruin, which breaks itself upon
that it falls. The Scripture exhorteth us to possess our souls in
patience. Whosoever is out of patience, is out of possession of his
soul. Men must not turn bees;


. . . animasque in vulnere ponunt.


Anger is certainly a kind of baseness; as it appears well in the
weakness of those subjects in whom it reigns; children, women, old
folks, sick folks. Only men must beware, that they carry their anger
rather with scorn, than with fear; so that they may seem rather to be
above the injury, than below it; which is a thing easily done, if a man
will give law to himself in it.

For the second point; the causes and motives of anger, are chiefly
three. First, to be too sensible of hurt; for no man is angry, that
feels not himself hurt; and therefore tender and delicate persons must
needs be oft angry; they have so many things to trouble them, which more
robust natures have little sense of. The next is, the apprehension and
construction of the injury offered, to be, in the circumstances thereof,
full of contempt: for contempt is that, which putteth an edge upon
anger, as much or more than the hurt itself. And therefore, when men are
ingenious in picking out circumstances of contempt, they do kindle their
anger much. Lastly, opinion of the touch of a man's reputation, doth
multiply and sharpen anger. Wherein the remedy is, that a man should
have, as Consalvo was wont to say, telam honoris crassiorem. But in all
refrainings of anger, it is the best remedy to win time; and to make a
man's self believe, that the opportunity of his revenge is not yet
come, but that he foresees a time for it; and so to still himself in the
meantime, and reserve it.

To contain anger from mischief, though it take hold of a man, there be
two things, whereof you must have special caution. The one, of extreme
bitterness of words, especially if they be aculeate and proper; for
cummunia maledicta are nothing so much; and again, that in anger a man
reveal no secrets; for that, makes him not fit for society. The other,
that you do not peremptorily break off, in any business, in a fit of
anger; but howsoever you show bitterness, do not act anything, that is
not revocable.

For raising and appeasing anger in another; it is done chiefly by
choosing of times, when men are frowardest and worst disposed, to
incense them. Again, by gathering (as was touched before) all that you
can find out, to aggravate the contempt. And the two remedies are by the
contraries. The former to take good times, when first to relate to a man
an angry business; for the first impression is much; and the other is,
to sever, as much as may be, the construction of the injury from the
point of contempt; imputing it to misunderstanding, fear, passion, or
what you will.




Of Vicissitude Of Things


SOLOMON saith, There is no new thing upon the earth. So that as Plato
had an imagination, That all knowledge was but remembrance; so Solomon
giveth his sentence, That all novelty is but oblivion. Whereby you may
see, that the river of Lethe runneth as well above ground as below.
There is an abstruse astrologer that saith, If it were not for two
things that are constant (the one is, that the fixed stars ever stand a
like distance one from another, and never come nearer together, nor go
further asunder; the other, that the diurnal motion perpetually keepeth
time), no individual would last one moment. Certain it is, that
the matter is in a perpetual flux, and never at a stay. The great
winding-sheets, that bury all things in oblivion, are two; deluges
and earthquakes. As for conflagrations and great droughts, they do not
merely dispeople and destroy. Phaeton's car went but a day. And the
three years' drought in the time of Elias, was but particular, and left
people alive. As for the great burnings by lightnings, which are
often in the West Indies, they are but narrow. But in the other two
destructions, by deluge and earthquake, it is further to be noted, that
the remnant of people which hap to be reserved, are commonly ignorant
and mountainous people, that can give no account of the time past; so
that the oblivion is all one, as if none had been left. If you consider
well of the people of the West Indies, it is very probable that they are
a newer or a younger people, than the people of the Old World. And it is
much more likely, that the destruction that hath heretofore been there,
was not by earthquakes (as the Egyptian priest told Solon concerning the
island of Atlantis, that it was swallowed by an earthquake), but rather
that it was desolated by a particular deluge. For earthquakes are seldom
in those parts. But on the other side, they have such pouring rivers, as
the rivers of Asia and Africk and Europe, are but brooks to them.
Their Andes, likewise, or mountains, are far higher than those with us;
whereby it seems, that the remnants of generation of men, were in such
a particular deluge saved. As for the observation that Machiavel hath,
that the jealousy of sects, doth much extinguish the memory of things;
traducing Gregory the Great, that he did what in him lay, to extinguish
all heathen antiquities; I do not find that those zeals do any great
effects, nor last long; as it appeared in the succession of Sabinian,
who did revive the former antiquities.

The vicissitude of mutations in the superior globe, are no fit matter
for this present argument. It may be, Plato's great year, if the world
should last so long, would have some effect; not in renewing the state
of like individuals (for that is the fume of those, that conceive the
celestial bodies have more accurate influences upon these things below,
than indeed they have), but in gross. Comets, out of question, have
likewise power and effect, over the gross and mass of things; but they
are rather gazed upon, and waited upon in their journey, than wisely
observed in their effects; specially in, their respective effects; that
is, what kind of comet, for magnitude, color, version of the beams,
placing in the reign of heaven, or lasting, produceth what kind of
effects.

There is a toy which I have heard, and I would not have it given over,
but waited upon a little. They say it is observed in the Low Countries
(I know not in what part) that every five and thirty years, the same
kind and suit of years and weathers come about again; as great frosts,
great wet, great droughts, warm winters, summers with little heat, and
the like; and they call it the Prime. It is a thing I do the rather
mention, because, computing backwards, I have found some concurrence.

But to leave these points of nature, and to come to men. The greatest
vicissitude of things amongst men, is the vicissitude of sects and
religions. For those orbs rule in men's minds most. The true religion
is built upon the rock; the rest are tossed, upon the waves of time. To
speak, therefore, of the causes of new sects; and to give some counsel
concerning them, as far as the weakness of human judgment can give stay,
to so great revolutions. When the religion formerly received, is rent
by discords; and when the holiness of the professors of religion, is
decayed and full of scandal; and withal the times be stupid, ignorant,
and barbarous; you may doubt the springing up of a new sect; if then
also, there should arise any extravagant and strange spirit, to make
himself author thereof. All which points held, when Mahomet published
his law. If a new sect have not two properties, fear it not; for it will
not spread. The one is the supplanting, or the opposing, of authority
established; for nothing is more popular than that. The other is
the giving license to pleasures, and a voluptuous life. For as for
speculative heresies (such as were in ancient times the Arians, and now
the Arminians), though they work mightily upon men's wits, yet they do
not produce any great alterations in states; except it be by the help of
civil occasions. There be three manner of plantations of new sects. By
the power of signs and miracles; by the eloquence, and wisdom, of speech
and persuasion; and by the sword. For martyrdoms, I reckon them amongst
miracles; because they seem to exceed the strength of human nature: and
I may do the like, of superlative and admirable holiness of life. Surely
there is no better way, to stop the rising of new sects and schisms,
than to reform abuses; to compound the smaller differences; to proceed
mildly, and not with sanguinary persecutions; and rather to take off the
principal authors by winning and advancing them, than to enrage them by
violence and bitterness.

The changes and vicissitude in wars are many; but chiefly in three
things; in the seats or stages of the war; in the weapons; and in the
manner of the conduct. Wars, in ancient time, seemed more to move from
east to west; for the Persians, Assyrians, Arabians, Tartars (which
were the invaders) were all eastern people. It is true, the Gauls
were western; but we read but of two incursions of theirs: the one
to Gallo-Grecia, the other to Rome. But east and west have no certain
points of heaven; and no more have the wars, either from the east or
west, any certainty of observation. But north and south are fixed; and
it hath seldom or never been seen that the far southern people have
invaded the northern, but contrariwise. Whereby it is manifest that the
northern tract of the world, is in nature the more martial region: be it
in respect of the stars of that hemisphere; or of the great continents
that are upon the north, whereas the south part, for aught that is
known, is almost all sea; or (which is most apparent) of the cold of
the northern parts, which is that which, without aid of discipline, doth
make the bodies hardest, and the courages warmest.

Upon the breaking and shivering of a great state and empire, you may be
sure to have wars. For great empires, while they stand, do enervate and
destroy the forces of the natives which they have subdued, resting upon
their own protecting forces; and then when they fail also, all goes
to ruin, and they become a prey. So was it in the decay of the Roman
empire; and likewise in the empire of Almaigne, after Charles the Great,
every bird taking a feather; and were not unlike to befall to Spain,
if it should break. The great accessions and unions of kingdoms, do
likewise stir up wars; for when a state grows to an over-power, it is
like a great flood, that will be sure to overflow. As it hath been seen
in the states of Rome, Turkey, Spain, and others. Look when the world
hath fewest barbarous peoples, but such as commonly will not marry or
generate, except they know means to live (as it is almost everywhere at
this day, except Tartary), there is no danger of inundations of people;
but when there be great shoals of people, which go on to populate,
without foreseeing means of life and sustentation, it is of necessity
that once in an age or two, they discharge a portion of their people
upon other nations; which the ancient northern people were wont to do
by lot; casting lots what part should stay at home, and what should seek
their fortunes. When a warlike state grows soft and effeminate, they may
be sure of a war. For commonly such states are grown rich in the time
of their degenerating; and so the prey inviteth, and their decay in
valor, encourageth a war.

As for the weapons, it hardly falleth under rule and observation: yet
we see even they, have returns and vicissitudes. For certain it is, that
ordnance was known in the city of the Oxidrakes in India; and was that,
which the Macedonians called thunder and lightning, and magic. And it
is well known that the use of ordnance, hath been in China above two
thousand years. The conditions of weapons, and their improvement, are;
First, the fetching afar off; for that outruns the danger; as it is
seen in ordnance and muskets. Secondly, the strength of the percussion;
wherein likewise ordnance do exceed all arietations and ancient
inventions. The third is, the commodious use of them; as that they may
serve in all weathers; that the carriage may be light and manageable;
and the like.

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

In the youth of a state, arms do flourish; in the middle age of a state,
learning; and then both of them together for a time; in the declining
age of a state, mechanical arts and merchandize. Learning hath his
infancy, when it is but beginning and almost childish; then his youth,
when it is luxuriant and juvenile; then his strength of years, when it
is solid and reduced; and lastly, his old age, when it waxeth dry and
exhaust. But it is not good to look too long upon these turning wheels
of vicissitude, lest we become giddy. As for the philology of them, that
is but a circle of tales, and therefore not fit for this writing.




Of Fame


THE poets make Fame a monster. They describe her in part finely and
elegantly, and in part gravely and sententiously. They say, look how
many feathers she hath, so many eyes she hath underneath; so many
tongues; so many voices; she pricks up so many ears.

This is a flourish. There follow excellent parables; as that, she
gathereth strength in going; that she goeth upon the ground, and yet
hideth her head in the clouds; that in the daytime she sitteth in a
watch tower, and flieth most by night; that she mingleth things done,
with things not done; and that she is a terror to great cities. But that
which passeth all the rest is: They do recount that the Earth, mother
of the giants that made war against Jupiter, and were by him destroyed,
thereupon in an anger brought forth Fame. For certain it is, that
rebels, figured by the giants, and seditious fames and libels, are but
brothers and sisters, masculine and feminine. But now, if a man can tame
this monster, and bring her to feed at the hand, and govern her, and
with her fly other ravening fowl and kill them, it is somewhat worth.
But we are infected with the style of the poets. To speak now in a sad
and serious manner: There is not, in all the politics, a place less
handled and more worthy to be handled, than this of fame. We will
therefore speak of these points: What are false fames; and what are true
fames; and how they may be best discerned; how fames may be sown, and
raised; how they may be spread, and multiplied; and how they may be
checked, and laid dead. And other things concerning the nature of fame.
Fame is of that force, as there is scarcely any great action, wherein it
hath not a great part; especially in the war. Mucianus undid Vitellius,
by a fame that he scattered, that Vitellius had in purpose to remove the
legions of Syria into Germany, and the legions of Germany into Syria;
whereupon the legions of Syria were infinitely inflamed. Julius Caesar
took Pompey unprovided, and laid asleep his industry and preparations,
by a fame that he cunningly gave out: Caesar's own soldiers loved him
not, and being wearied with the wars, and laden with the spoils of Gaul,
would forsake him, as soon as he came into Italy. Livia settled all
things for the succession of her son Tiberius, by continual giving out,
that her husband Augustus was upon recovery and amendment, and it is an
usual thing with the pashas, to conceal the death of the Great Turk from
the janizaries and men of war, to save the sacking of Constantinople
and other towns, as their manner is. Themistocles made Xerxes, king of
Persia, post apace out of Grecia, by giving out, that the Grecians had
a purpose to break his bridge of ships, which he had made athwart
Hellespont. There be a thousand such like examples; and the more they
are, the less they need to be repeated; because a man meeteth with them
everywhere. Therefore let all wise governors have as great a watch and
care over fames, as they have of the actions and designs themselves.





NOVUM ORGANUM


BY
LORD BACON


EDITED BY JOSEPH DEVEY, M. A.


[Illustration: Publisher’s logo]


NEW YORK
P. F. COLLIER & SON
MCMII
22




SCIENCE




NOVUM ORGANUM

OR

TRUE SUGGESTIONS FOR THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE




PREFACE


They who have presumed to dogmatize on nature, as on some well
investigated subject, either from self-conceit or arrogance, and in the
professorial style, have inflicted the greatest injury on philosophy
and learning. For they have tended to stifle and interrupt inquiry
exactly in proportion as they have prevailed in bringing others to
their opinion: and their own activity has not counterbalanced the
mischief they have occasioned by corrupting and destroying that of
others.
They again who have entered upon a contrary course, and
asserted that nothing whatever can be known, whether they have fallen
into this opinion from their hatred of the ancient sophists, or from
the hesitation of their minds, or from an exuberance of learning, have
certainly adduced reasons for it which are by no means contemptible.
They have not, however, derived their opinion from true sources,
and, hurried on by their zeal and some affectation, have certainly
exceeded due moderation. But the more ancient Greeks (whose writings
have perished), held a more prudent mean, between the arrogance of
dogmatism, and the despair of scepticism; and though too frequently
intermingling complaints and indignation at the difficulty of inquiry,
and the obscurity of things, and champing, as it were, the bit, have
still persisted in pressing their point, and pursuing their intercourse
with nature; thinking, as it seems, that the better method was not to
dispute upon the very point of the possibility of anything being known,
but to put it to the test of experience. Yet they themselves, by only
employing the power of the understanding, have not adopted a fixed
rule, but have laid their whole stress upon intense meditation, and a
continual exercise and perpetual agitation of the mind.

Our method, though difficult in its operation, is easily explained.
It consists in determining the degrees of certainty, while we, as it
were, restore the senses to their former rank, but generally reject
that operation of the mind which follows close upon the senses, and
open and establish a new and certain course for the mind from the first
actual perceptions of the senses themselves. This, no doubt, was the
view taken by those who have assigned so much to logic; showing clearly
thereby that they sought some support for the mind, and suspected its
natural and spontaneous mode of action. But this is now employed too
late as a remedy, when all is clearly lost, and after the mind, by
the daily habit and intercourse of life, has come prepossessed with
corrupted doctrines, and filled with the vainest idols. The art of
logic therefore being (as we have mentioned), too late a precaution,[1]
and in no way remedying the matter, has tended more to confirm errors,
than to disclose truth. Our only remaining hope and salvation is to
begin the whole labor of the mind again; not leaving it to itself,
but directing it perpetually from the very first, and attaining our
end as it were by mechanical aid. If men, for instance, had attempted
mechanical labors with their hands alone, and without the power and aid
of instruments, as they have not hesitated to carry on the labors of
their understanding with the unaided efforts of their mind, they would
have been able to move and overcome but little, though they had exerted
their utmost and united powers. And just to pause awhile on this
comparison, and look into it as a mirror; let us ask, if any obelisk of
a remarkable size were perchance required to be moved, for the purpose
of gracing a triumph or any similar pageant, and men were to attempt it
with their bare hands, would not any sober spectator avow it to be an
act of the greatest madness? And if they should increase the number of
workmen, and imagine that they could thus succeed, would he not think
so still more? But if they chose to make a selection, and to remove
the weak, and only employ the strong and vigorous, thinking by this
means, at any rate, to achieve their object, would he not say that they
were more fondly deranged? Nay, if not content with this, they were
to determine on consulting the athletic art, and were to give orders
for all to appear with their hands, arms, and muscles regularly oiled
and prepared, would he not exclaim that they were taking pains to rave
by method and design? Yet men are hurried on with the same senseless
energy and useless combination in intellectual matters, as long as
they expect great results either from the number and agreement, or the
excellence and acuteness of their wits; or even strengthen their minds
with logic, which may be considered as an athletic preparation, but yet
do not desist (if we rightly consider the matter) from applying their
own understandings merely with all this zeal and effort. While nothing
is more clear, than that in every great work executed by the hand of
man without machines or implements, it is impossible for the strength
of individuals to be increased, or for that of the multitude to combine.

Having premised so much, we lay down two points on which we would
admonish mankind, lest they should fail to see or to observe them. The
first of these is, that it is our good fortune (as we consider it), for
the sake of extinguishing and removing contradiction and irritation of
mind, to leave the honor and reverence due to the ancients untouched
and undiminished, so that we can perform our intended work, and yet
enjoy the benefit of our respectful moderation. For if we should
profess to offer something better than the ancients, and yet should
pursue the same course as they have done, we could never, by any
artifice, contrive to avoid the imputation of having engaged in a
contest or rivalry as to our respective wits, excellences, or talents;
which, though neither inadmissible nor new (for why should we not blame
and point out anything that is imperfectly discovered or laid down by
them, of our own right, a right common to all? ), yet however just and
allowable, would perhaps be scarcely an equal match, on account of
the disproportion of our strength. But since our present plan leads
up to open an entirely different course to the understanding, and one
unattempted and unknown to them, the case is altered. There is an end
to party zeal, and we only take upon ourselves the character of a
guide, which requires a moderate share of authority and good fortune,
rather than talents and excellence. The first admonition relates to
persons, the next to things.

We make no attempt to disturb the system of philosophy that now
prevails, or any other which may or will exist, either more correct or
more complete. For we deny not that the received system of philosophy,
and others of a similar nature, encourage discussion, embellish
harangues, are employed, and are of service in the duties of the
professor, and the affairs of civil life. Nay, we openly express and
declare that the philosophy we offer will not be very useful in such
respects. It is not obvious, nor to be understood in a cursory view,
nor does it flatter the mind in its preconceived notions, nor will
it descend to the level of the generality of mankind unless by its
advantages and effects.

Let there exist then (and may it be of advantage to both), two sources,
and two distributions of learning, and in like manner two tribes, and
as it were kindred families of contemplators or philosophers, without
any hostility or alienation between them; but rather allied and united
by mutual assistance. Let there be in short one method of cultivating
the sciences, and another of discovering them. And as for those who
prefer and more readily receive the former, on account of their haste
or from motives arising from their ordinary life, or because they
are unable from weakness of mind to comprehend and embrace the other
(which must necessarily be the case with by far the greater number),
let us wish that they may prosper as they desire in their undertaking,
and attain what they pursue. But if any individual desire, and is
anxious not merely to adhere to, and make use of present discoveries,
but to penetrate still further, and not to overcome his adversaries
in disputes, but nature by labor, not in short to give elegant and
specious opinions, but to know to a certainty and demonstration, let
him, as a true son of science (if such be his wish), join with us; that
when he has left the antechambers of nature trodden by the multitude,
an entrance may at last be discovered to her inner apartments. And
in order to be better understood, and to render our meaning more
familiar by assigning determinate names, we have accustomed ourselves
to call the one method the anticipation of the mind, and the other the
interpretation of nature.

We have still one request left. We have at least reflected and taken
pains in order to render our propositions not only true, but of easy
and familiar access to men’s minds, however wonderfully prepossessed
and limited. Yet it is but just that we should obtain this favor from
mankind (especially in so great a restoration of learning and the
sciences), that whosoever may be desirous of forming any determination
upon an opinion of this our work either from his own perceptions, or
the crowd of authorities, or the forms of demonstrations, he will not
expect to be able to do so in a cursory manner, and while attending
to other matters; but in order to have a thorough knowledge of the
subject, will himself by degrees attempt the course which we describe
and maintain; will be accustomed to the subtilty of things which is
manifested by experience; and will correct the depraved and deeply
rooted habits of his mind by a seasonable, and, as it were, just
hesitation: and then, finally (if he will), use his judgment when he
has begun to be master of himself.


FOOTNOTE

[1] Because it was idle to draw a logical conclusion from false
principles, error being propagated as much by false premises, which
logic does not pretend to examine, as by illegitimate inference. Hence,
as Bacon says further on, men being easily led to confound legitimate
inference with truth, were confirmed in their errors by the very
subtilty of their genius. --_Ed. _




APHORISMS--BOOK I

ON THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE AND THE EMPIRE OF MAN


I. Man, as the minister and interpreter of nature, does and understands
as much as his observations on the order of nature, either with regard
to things or the mind, permit him, and neither knows nor is capable of
more.

II. The unassisted hand and the understanding left to itself possess
but little power. Effects are produced by the means of instruments and
helps, which the understanding requires no less than the hand; and as
instruments either promote or regulate the motion of the hand, so those
that are applied to the mind prompt or protect the understanding.

III. Knowledge and human power are synonymous, since the ignorance
of the cause frustrates the effect; for nature is only subdued by
submission, and that which in contemplative philosophy corresponds with
the cause in practical science becomes the rule.

IV. Man while operating can only apply or withdraw natural bodies;
nature internally performs the rest.

V. Those who become practically versed in nature are, the mechanic, the
mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the _magician_,[2] but
all (as matters now stand) with faint efforts and meagre success.

VI. It would be madness and inconsistency to suppose that things which
have never yet been performed can be performed without employing some
hitherto untried means.

VII. The creations of the mind and hand appear very numerous, if we
judge by books and manufactures; but all that variety consists of
an excessive refinement, and of deductions from a few well known
matters--_not of a number of axioms_. [3]

VIII. Even the effects already discovered are due to chance and
experiment rather than to the sciences; for our present sciences are
nothing more than peculiar arrangements of matters already discovered,
and not methods for discovery or plans for new operations.

IX. The sole cause and root of almost every defect in the sciences is
this, that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human
mind, we do not search for its real helps.

X. The subtilty of nature is far beyond that of sense or of the
understanding: so that the specious meditations, speculations, and
theories of mankind are but a kind of insanity, only there is no one to
stand by and observe it.

XI. As the present sciences are useless for the discovery of effects,
so the present system of logic[4] is useless for the discovery of the
sciences.

XII. The present system of logic rather assists in confirming and
rendering inveterate the errors founded on vulgar notions than in
searching after truth, and is therefore more hurtful than useful.

XIII. The syllogism is not applied to the principles of the sciences,
and is of no avail in intermediate axioms,[5] as being very unequal to
the subtilty of nature. It forces assent, therefore, and not things.

XIV. The syllogism consists of propositions; propositions of words;
words are the signs of notions. If, therefore, the notions (which form
the basis of the whole) be confused and carelessly abstracted from
things, there is no solidity in the superstructure. Our only hope,
then, is in genuine induction.

XV. We have no sound notions either in logic or physics; substance,
quality, action, passion, and existence are not clear notions; much
less weight, levity, density, tenuity, moisture, dryness, generation,
corruption, attraction, repulsion, element, matter, form, and the
like. They are all fantastical and ill-defined.

XVI. The notions of less abstract natures, as man, dog, dove, and the
immediate perceptions of sense, as heat, cold, white, black, do not
deceive us materially, yet even these are sometimes confused by the
mutability of matter and the intermixture of things. All the rest which
men have hitherto employed are errors, and improperly abstracted and
deduced from things.

XVII. There is the same degree of licentiousness and error in forming
axioms as in abstracting notions, and that in the first principles,
which depend on common induction; still more is this the case in axioms
and inferior propositions derived from syllogisms.

XVIII. The present discoveries in science are such as lie immediately
beneath the surface of common notions. It is necessary, however, to
penetrate the more secret and remote parts of nature, in order to
abstract both notions and axioms from things by a more certain and
guarded method.

XIX. There are and can exist but two ways of investigating and
discovering truth. The one hurries on rapidly from the senses and
particulars to the most general axioms, and from them, as principles
and their supposed indisputable truth, derives and discovers the
intermediate axioms. This is the way now in use. The other constructs
its axioms from the senses and particulars, by ascending continually
and gradually, till it finally arrives at the most general axioms,
which is the true but unattempted way.

XX. The understanding when left to itself proceeds by the same way as
that which it would have adopted under the guidance of logic, namely,
the first; for the mind is fond of starting off to generalities, that
it may avoid labor, and after dwelling a little on a subject is
fatigued by experiment. But those evils are augmented by logic, for the
sake of the ostentation of dispute.

XXI. The understanding, when left to itself in a man of a steady,
patient, and reflecting disposition (especially when unimpeded by
received doctrines), makes some attempt in the right way, but with
little effect, since the understanding, undirected and unassisted,
is unequal to and unfit for the task of vanquishing the obscurity of
things.

XXII. Each of these two ways begins from the senses and particulars,
and ends in the greatest generalities. But they are immeasurably
different; for the one merely touches cursorily the limits of
experiment and particulars, while the other runs duly and regularly
through them--the one from the very outset lays down some abstract and
useless generalities, the other gradually rises to those principles
which are really the most common in nature. [6]

XXIII. There is no small difference between the idols of the human mind
and the ideas of the Divine mind--that is to say, between certain idle
dogmas and the real stamp and impression of created objects, as they
are found in nature.

XXIV. Axioms determined upon in argument can never assist in the
discovery of new effects; for the subtilty of nature is vastly superior
to that of argument. But axioms properly and regularly abstracted from
particulars easily point out and define new particulars, and therefore
impart activity to the sciences.

XXV. The axioms now in use are derived from a scanty handful, as it
were, of experience, and a few particulars of frequent occurrence,
whence they are of much the same dimensions or extent as their origin.
And if any neglected or unknown instance occurs, the axiom is saved by
some frivolous distinction, when it would be more consistent with truth
to amend it.

XXVI. We are wont, for the sake of distinction, to call that human
reasoning which we apply to nature the anticipation of nature (as being
rash and premature), and that which is properly deduced from things the
interpretation of nature.

XXVII. Anticipations are sufficiently powerful in producing unanimity,
for if men were all to become even uniformly mad, they might agree
tolerably well with each other.

XXVIII. Anticipations again, will be assented to much more readily
than interpretations, because being deduced from a few instances, and
these principally of familiar occurrence, they immediately hit the
understanding and satisfy the imagination; while, on the contrary,
interpretations, being deduced from various subjects, and these widely
dispersed, cannot suddenly strike the understanding, so that in common
estimation they must appear difficult and discordant, and almost like
the mysteries of faith.

XXIX. In sciences founded on opinions and dogmas, it is right to make
use of anticipations and logic if you wish to force assent rather than
things.

XXX. If all the capacities of all ages should unite and combine and
transmit their labors, no great progress will be made in learning
by anticipations, because the radical errors, and those which occur
in the first process of the mind, are not cured by the excellence of
subsequent means and remedies.

XXXI. It is in vain to expect any great progress in the sciences by the
superinducing or ingrafting new matters upon old. An instauration must
be made from the very foundations, if we do not wish to revolve forever
in a circle, making only some slight and contemptible progress.

XXXII. The ancient authors and all others are left in undisputed
possession of their honors; for we enter into no comparison of capacity
or talent, but of method, and assume the part of a guide rather than of
a critic.

XXXIII. To speak plainly, no correct judgment can be formed either of
our method or its discoveries by those anticipations which are now in
common use; for it is not to be required of us to submit ourselves to
the judgment of the very method we ourselves arraign.

XXXIV. Nor is it an easy matter to deliver and explain our sentiments;
for those things which are in themselves new can yet be only understood
from some analogy to what is old.

XXXV. Alexander Borgia[7] said of the expedition of the French into
Italy that they came with chalk in their hands to mark up their
lodgings, and not with weapons to force their passage. Even so do we
wish our philosophy to make its way quietly into those minds that are
fit for it, and of good capacity; for we have no need of contention
where we differ in first principles, and in our very notions, and even
in our forms of demonstration.

XXXVI. We have but one simple method of delivering our sentiments,
namely, we must bring men to particulars and their regular series and
order, and they must for a while renounce their notions, and begin to
form an acquaintance with things.

XXXVII. Our method and that of the sceptics[8] agree in some respects
at first setting out, but differ most widely, and are completely
opposed to each other in their conclusion; for they roundly assert that
nothing can be known; we, that but a small part of nature can be known,
by the present method; their next step, however, is to destroy the
authority of the senses and understanding, while we invent and supply
them with assistance.

XXXVIII. The idols and false notions which have already preoccupied the
human understanding, and are deeply rooted in it, not only so beset
men’s minds that they become difficult of access, but even when access
is obtained will again meet and trouble us in the instauration of the
sciences, unless mankind when forewarned guard themselves with all
possible care against them.

XXXIX. Four species of idols beset the human mind,[9] to which (for
distinction’s sake) we have assigned names, calling the first Idols of
the Tribe, the second Idols of the Den, the third Idols of the Market,
the fourth Idols of the Theatre.

XL. The formation of notions and axioms on the foundation of true
induction is the only fitting remedy by which we can ward off and expel
these idols. It is, however, of great service to point them out; for
the doctrine of idols bears the same relation to the interpretation of
nature as that of the confutation of sophisms does to common logic. [10]

XLI. The idols of the tribe are inherent in human nature and the very
tribe or race of man; for man’s sense is falsely asserted to be the
standard of things; on the contrary, all the perceptions both of the
senses and the mind bear reference to man and not to the universe,
and the human mind resembles those uneven mirrors which impart their
own properties to different objects, from which rays are emitted and
distort and disfigure them. [11]

XLII. The idols of the den are those of each individual; for everybody
(in addition to the errors common to the race of man) has his own
individual den or cavern, which intercepts and corrupts the light of
nature, either from his own peculiar and singular disposition, or from
his education and intercourse with others, or from his reading, and
the authority acquired by those whom he reverences and admires, or
from the different impressions produced on the mind, as it happens to
be preoccupied and predisposed, or equable and tranquil, and the like;
so that the spirit of man (according to its several dispositions), is
variable, confused, and as it were actuated by chance; and Heraclitus
said well that men search for knowledge in lesser worlds, and not in
the greater or common world.

XLIII. There are also idols formed by the reciprocal intercourse and
society of man with man, which we call idols of the market, from the
commerce and association of men with each other; for men converse by
means of language, but words are formed at the will of the generality,
and there arises from a bad and unapt formation of words a wonderful
obstruction to the mind. Nor can the definitions and explanations with
which learned men are wont to guard and protect themselves in some
instances afford a complete remedy--words still manifestly force the
understanding, throw everything into confusion, and lead mankind into
vain and innumerable controversies and fallacies.

XLIV. Lastly, there are idols which have crept into men’s minds from
the various dogmas of peculiar systems of philosophy, and also from the
perverted rules of demonstration, and these we denominate idols of the
theatre: for we regard all the systems of philosophy hitherto received
or imagined, as so many plays brought out and performed, creating
fictitious and theatrical worlds. Nor do we speak only of the present
systems, or of the philosophy and sects of the ancients, since numerous
other plays of a similar nature can be still composed and made to agree
with each other, the causes of the most opposite errors being generally
the same. Nor, again, do we allude merely to general systems, but also
to many elements and axioms of sciences which have become inveterate by
tradition, implicit credence, and neglect. We must, however, discuss
each species of idols more fully and distinctly in order to guard the
human understanding against them.

XLV. The human understanding, from its peculiar nature, easily supposes
a greater degree of order and equality in things than it really finds;
and although many things in nature be _sui generis_ and most irregular,
will yet invent parallels and conjugates and relatives, where no
such thing is. Hence the fiction, that all celestial bodies move in
perfect circles, thus rejecting entirely spiral and serpentine lines
(except as explanatory terms). [12] Hence also the element of fire
is introduced with its peculiar orbit,[13] to keep square with those
other three which are objects of our senses. The relative rarity of the
elements (as they are called) is arbitrarily made to vary in tenfold
progression, with many other dreams of the like nature. [14] Nor is this
folly confined to theories, but it is to be met with even in simple
notions.

XLVI. The human understanding, when any proposition has been once
laid down (either from general admission and belief, or from the
pleasure it affords), forces everything else to add fresh support and
confirmation; and although most cogent and abundant instances may
exist to the contrary, yet either does not observe or despises them,
or gets rid of and rejects them by some distinction, with violent
and injurious prejudice, rather than sacrifice the authority of its
first conclusions. It was well answered by him[15] who was shown in a
temple the votive tablets suspended by such as had escaped the peril of
shipwreck, and was pressed as to whether he would then recognize the
power of the gods, by an inquiry, But where are the portraits of those
who have perished in spite of their vows? All superstition is much
the same, whether it be that of astrology, dreams, omens, retributive
judgment, or the like, in all of which the deluded believers observe
events which are fulfilled, but neglect and pass over their failure,
though it be much more common. But this evil insinuates itself still
more craftily in philosophy and the sciences, in which a settled maxim
vitiates and governs every other circumstance, though the latter be
much more worthy of confidence. Besides, even in the absence of that
eagerness and want of thought (which we have mentioned), it is the
peculiar and perpetual error of the human understanding to be more
moved and excited by affirmatives than negatives, whereas it ought duly
and regularly to be impartial; nay, in establishing any true axiom the
negative instance is the most powerful.

XLVII. The human understanding is most excited by that which strikes
and enters the mind at once and suddenly, and by which the imagination
is immediately filled and inflated. It then begins almost imperceptibly
to conceive and suppose that everything is similar to the few objects
which have taken possession of the mind, while it is very slow and
unfit for the transition to the remote and heterogeneous instances by
which axioms are tried as by fire, unless the office be imposed upon it
by severe regulations and a powerful authority.

XLVIII. The human understanding is active and cannot halt or rest, but
even, though without effect, still presses forward. Thus we cannot
conceive of any end or external boundary of the world, and it seems
necessarily to occur to us that there must be something beyond. Nor can
we imagine how eternity has flowed on down to the present day, since
the usually received distinction of an infinity, a parte ante and a
parte post,[16] cannot hold good; for it would thence follow that one
infinity is greater than another, and also that infinity is wasting
away and tending to an end. There is the same difficulty in considering
the infinite divisibility of lines, arising from the weakness of our
minds, which weakness interferes to still greater disadvantage with the
discovery of causes; for although the greatest generalities in nature
must be positive, just as they are found, and in fact not causable,
yet the human understanding, incapable of resting, seeks for something
more intelligible. Thus, however, while aiming at further progress, it
falls back to what is actually less advanced, namely, final causes;
for they are clearly more allied to man’s own nature, than the system
of the universe, and from this source they have wonderfully corrupted
philosophy. But he would be an unskilful and shallow philosopher who
should seek for causes in the greatest generalities, and not be
anxious to discover them in subordinate objects.

XLIX. The human understanding resembles not a dry light, but admits
a tincture of the will[17] and passions, which generate their own
system accordingly; for man always believes more readily that which
he prefers. He, therefore, rejects difficulties for want of patience
in investigation; sobriety, because it limits his hope; the depths of
nature, from superstition; the light of experiment, from arrogance
and pride, lest his mind should appear to be occupied with common
and varying objects; paradoxes, from a fear of the opinion of the
vulgar; in short, his feelings imbue and corrupt his understanding in
innumerable and sometimes imperceptible ways.

L. But by far the greatest impediment and aberration of the human
understanding proceeds from the dulness, incompetence, and errors
of the senses; since whatever strikes the senses preponderates over
everything, however superior, which does not immediately strike them.
Hence contemplation mostly ceases with sight, and a very scanty, or
perhaps no regard is paid to invisible objects. The entire operation,
therefore, of spirits inclosed in tangible bodies[18] is concealed,
and escapes us. All that more delicate change of formation in the
parts of coarser substances (vulgarly called alteration, but in fact
a change of position in the smallest particles) is equally unknown;
and yet, unless the two matters we have mentioned be explored and
brought to light, no great effect can be produced in nature. Again,
the very nature of common air, and all bodies of less density (of
which there are many) is almost unknown; for the senses are weak and
erring, nor can instruments be of great use in extending their sphere
or acuteness--all the better interpretations of nature are worked out
by instances, and fit and apt experiments, where the senses only judge
of the experiment, the experiment of nature and the thing itself.

LI. The human understanding is, by its own nature, prone to
abstraction, and supposes that which is fluctuating to be fixed. But
it is better to dissect than abstract nature: such was the method
employed by the school of Democritus,[19] which made greater progress
in penetrating nature than the rest. It is best to consider matter, its
conformation, and the changes of that conformation, its own action,[20]
and the law of this action or motion; for forms are a mere fiction
of the human mind, unless you will call the laws of action by that
name. [21]

LII. Such are the idols of the tribe, which arise either from the
uniformity of the constitution of man’s spirit, or its prejudices, or
its limited faculties or restless agitation, or from the interference
of the passions, or the incompetence of the senses, or the mode of
their impressions.

LIII. The idols of the den derive their origin from the peculiar nature
of each individual’s mind and body, and also from education, habit, and
accident; and although they be various and manifold, yet we will treat
of some that require the greatest caution, and exert the greatest power
in polluting the understanding.

LIV. Some men become attached to particular sciences and
contemplations, either from supposing themselves the authors and
inventors of them, or from having bestowed the greatest pains upon
such subjects, and thus become most habituated to them. [22] If men of
this description apply themselves to philosophy and contemplations of
a universal nature, they wrest and corrupt them by their preconceived
fancies, of which Aristotle affords us a single instance, who made
his natural philosophy completely subservient to his logic, and thus
rendered it little more than useless and disputatious. The chemists,
again, have formed a fanciful philosophy with the most confined views,
from a few experiments of the furnace. Gilbert,[23] too, having
employed himself most assiduously in the consideration of the magnet,
immediately established a system of philosophy to coincide with his
favorite pursuit.

LV. The greatest and, perhaps, radical distinction between different
men’s dispositions for philosophy and the sciences is this, that
some are more vigorous and active in observing the differences of
things, others in observing their resemblances; for a steady and acute
disposition can fix its thoughts, and dwell upon and adhere to a point,
through all the refinements of differences, but those that are sublime
and discursive recognize and compare even the most delicate and general
resemblances; each of them readily falls into excess, by catching
either at nice distinctions or shadows of resemblance.

LVI. Some dispositions evince an unbounded admiration of antiquity,
others eagerly embrace novelty, and but few can preserve the just
medium, so as neither to tear up what the ancients have correctly laid
down, nor to despise the just innovations of the moderns. But this
is very prejudicial to the sciences and philosophy, and instead of a
correct judgment we have but the factions of the ancients and moderns.
Truth is not to be sought in the good fortune of any particular
conjuncture of time, which is uncertain, but in the light of nature
and experience, which is eternal. Such factions, therefore, are to be
abjured, and the understanding must not allow them to hurry it on to
assent.

LVII. The contemplation of nature and of bodies in their individual
form distracts and weakens the understanding; but the contemplation
of nature and of bodies in their general composition and formation
stupefies and relaxes it.