No More Learning

(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. For herein the invention of one of the late poets is
proper, and doth well enrich the ancient fiction. For he feigneth that
at the end of the thread or web of every man’s life there was a little
medal containing the person’s name, and that Time waited upon the shears,
and as soon as the thread was cut caught the medals, and carried them to
the river of Lathe; and about the bank there were many birds flying up
and down, that would get the medals and carry them in their beak a little
while, and then let them fall into the river. Only there were a few
swans, which if they got a name would carry it to a temple where it was
consecrate. And although many men, more mortal in their affections than
in their bodies, do esteem desire of name and memory but as a vanity and
ventosity,

“Animi nil magnæ laudis egentes;”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Splendet tremulo sub lumine pontus. ”

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

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

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

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

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

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

So,

“Felix doctrinæ prædo. ”

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

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

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

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

Fire is the cause of induration, but respective to clay; fire is the
cause of colliquation, but respective to wax. But fire is no constant
cause either of induration or colliquation; so then the physical causes
are but the efficient and the matter. Physic hath three parts, whereof
two respect nature united or collected, the third contemplateth nature
diffused or distributed. Nature is collected either into one entire
total, or else into the same principles or seeds. So as the first
doctrine is touching the contexture or configuration of things, as _de
mundo_, _de universitate rerum_. The second is the doctrine concerning
the principles or originals of things. The third is the doctrine
concerning all variety and particularity of things; whether it be of the
differing substances, or their differing qualities and natures; whereof
there needeth no enumeration, this part being but as a gloss or
paraphrase that attendeth upon the text of natural history.