This book is due at the WALTER R. DAVIS LIBRARY on 
 the last date stamped under “Date Due.” If not on hold it 
 may be renewed by bringing it to the library. 
 
 nuF E RET. 
 
 DUE - 
 
 DATE RET 
 
 DUE 
 
 APR R 
 
 s fn A 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 iSSSS APS, 
 
 urn 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 fiuv 3 0 2 
 
 fm 
 
 
 
 VjfcL 0 
 
 W Iw» 1 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 ENDOWED BY THE 
 
 DIALECTIC AND PHILANTHROPIC 
 
 SOCIETIES 
 
 
 
 B115 1 * 
 
 1825 
 
 
 v.15 
 
THE UNIVERSITY OF 
 NORTH CAROLINA 
 LIBRARY 
 
 PRESENTED BY THE 
 WILLIAM A. WHITAKER 
 FOUNDATION 
 

 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 » 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

 Bus*/ 
 
 i$JS 
 
 THE WORKS 
 
 OF 
 
 y. /S' 
 
 FRANCIS BACON. 
 
 4 
 
 aoiU CfiamtUor of (ffiitgl.iMfj. 
 
 A NEW EDITION : 
 
 4 
 
 BY 
 
 BASIL MONTAGU, ESQ. 
 
 TRANSLATIONS OF THE NOVUM ORGANUM ; 
 THOUGHTS ON THE NATURE OF THINGS ; 
 &C. &C. 
 
 LONDON: 
 
 WILLIAM PICKERING. 
 
 MDCCCXXXIV. 
 
n 
 
 I 
 
 ■ - - . . 
 
 ♦ : , 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 ! 
 
 ; 1 
 
 ' ; 
 
 ‘ - 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 <] •• • • - / 
 
 * 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 : ‘ 
 
 
 
 
 
 - 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
THIS VOLUME CONTAINS THE FOLLOWING 
 
 TRANSLATIONS. 
 
 I. Translation into English. 
 
 Patre 
 
 1. The Theory of the Firmament. ] 
 
 2. Thoughts concerning the Interpretation of Nature 16 
 
 3. The Fable of Cupid. 44 
 
 4. Inquiry respecting Light . 82 
 
 5. Aphorisms respecting the Helps of the Mind .... 87 
 
 6. The Interpretation of Nature. 89 
 
 7. Phenomena of the Universe. 122 
 
 8. The Intellectual Globe. 150 
 
 9. The Ebb and Flow of the Sea. 192 
 
 10. The Alphabet of Nature. 207 
 
 11. Catalogue of Bodies attractive and not attractive . 21 i 
 
 12. Ornamentse Rationale. 213 
 
 13. Inquisition of the Conversion of Bodies. 215 
 
 14. Translation of Latin Letters. 217 
 
 15. Of the Interpretation of Nature. 220 
 
 16. The Masculine Birth of Time . 223 
 
 17. History of Sound. 225 
 
 II. Translation into Latin. 
 
 The Essays. 251 
 
 Index . 381 
 
 VOL. XV. 
 
 b 
 

 
NEC TANTO CERES LABORE, UT IN FABULIS EST, LIBERAM FERTUR QUAE¬ 
 SIVISSE FILIAM, QUANTO EGO HANC T8 Ka\u LSeaV, VELUTI PULCHER¬ 
 RIMAM QUANDAM IMAGINEM, PER OMNES RERUM FORMAS ET FACIES: 
 
 (TToWai yap fxoptpai tu>v Aaip.ovicov ) dies noctesque indagare 
 
 SOLEO, ET QUASI CERTIS QUIBUSDAM VESTIGIIS DUCENTEM SECTOR. 
 UNDE FIT, UT QUI, SPRETIS QUaE VULGUS PRAVA RERUM aESTIMATIONE 
 OPINATUR, ID SENTIRE ET LOQUI ET ESSE AUDET; QUOD SUMMA PER 
 OMNE aEVUM SAPIENTIA OPTIMUM ESSE DOCUIT, ILLI ME PROTINUS, 
 SICUBI REPERIAM, NECESSITATE QUADAM ADJUNGAM. QUOD SI EGO SIVE 
 NATURA, SIVE MEO FATO ITA SUM COMPARATUS, UT NULLA CONTENTIONE, 
 ET LABORIBUS MEIS AD TALE DECUS ET FASTIGIUM LAUDIS IPSE VALEAM 
 EMERGERE; TAMEN QUO MINUS QUI EAM GLORIAM ASSECUTI SUNT, AUT 
 EO FELICITER ASPIRANT, ILLOS SEMPER COLAM, ET SUSPICIAM, NEC DII 
 PUTO, NEC HOMINES PROHIBUERINT. 
 
 THIS LIFE OF FRANCIS BACON IS INSCRIBED TO 
 THE REVEREND AND LEARNED MARTIN DAVY, D. D. MASTER OK 
 CAIUS COLLEGE,—HENRY B1CKERSTETH,—CLEMENT T. SWANSTON, 
 —GEORGE TUTHILL,— AND TO THE MEMORY OF SAMUEL ROMILLY. 
 
 R. M. 
 
 VOL. XV 
 
 a 
 

 
 . 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 About thirty years ago I read in the Will of Lord 
 Bacon—“ For my burial, I desire it may be in St. 
 Michael’s Church, St. Albans : there was my mother 
 buried, and it is the parish church of my mansion- 
 house of Gorhambury, and it is the only Christian 
 church within the walls of Old Verulam. For my 
 name and memory, I leave it to men’s charitable 
 speeches, to foreign nations and the next ages.” 
 
 This passage, not to be seen till he was at rest 
 from his labours, impressed me with a feeling of his 
 consciousness of ill usage, and a conviction that the 
 time would arrive when justice would be done to his 
 memory. Sir Philip Sydney says, “ I never read 
 the old song of Percy and Douglas, without feeling 
 my heart stirred as by the sound of a trumpetand 
 assuredly this voice from the grave was not heard 
 by me with less emotion. 
 
 The words were cautiously selected, with the 
 knowledge which he, above all men, possessed of 
 their force and pregnant meaning, and of their certain 
 
8 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 influence, sooner or later, upon the community, (a) 
 They spoke to me as loudly of a sense of injury, and 
 of a reliance upon the justice of future ages, as the 
 opening of the Novum Organum speaks with the 
 consciousness of power : (b) 
 
 FRANCISCUS DE VERULAMIO 
 SIC COGITAVIT. 
 
 There was also something to me truly affecting in 
 the disclosure of tender natural feeling in the short 
 sentence referring to his mother, which, spanning a 
 whole life between the cradle and the grave, seemed 
 to record nothing else worthy of a tribute of affection. 
 
 Thus impressed I resolved to discover the real 
 merits of the case. 
 
 I found that the subject had always been involved 
 in some mystery. Archbishop Tennison, the admirer 
 of Lord Bacon, and the friend of Dr. Rawley, his 
 domestic chaplain, thus mentions it in the Baconiana : 
 “ His lordship owned it under his hand, (c) that he 
 was frail, and did partake of the abuses of the times; 
 and surely he was a partaker of their severities also. 
 The great cause of his suffering is to some a secret. 
 I leave them to find it out by his words to King 
 
 (a) In a former will (see Baconiana, p. 203) there is the same 
 wish expressed, not in such polished terms. The sentence is, 
 “ For my name and memory, I leave it to foreign nations and to 
 mine own countrymen, after some time be passed over.” 
 
 ( b ) Francis of Verulam thought thus. 
 
 (c) In his letter to King James, March 25, 1620, in the 
 Cabala. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 9 
 
 James :(a) ‘ I wish that as I am the first, so I may 
 be the last of sacrifices in your times :’ and when, 
 from private appetite, it is resolved that a creature 
 shall be sacrificed, it is easy to pick up sticks enough 
 from any thicket whither it hath strayed, to make a 
 fire to offer it with.” 
 
 Dr. Rawley, (b) did not, as it seems, think it proper 
 to be more explicit, because he judged “ some papers 
 touching matters of estate, to tread too near to the 
 heels of truth and to the times of the persons con¬ 
 cerned.” 
 
 Having read this intimation in the Baconiana, I 
 procured, with some difficulty, a copy of the tract 
 that contains the words to which Archbishop Tennison 
 alludes. It is Bushel’s Abridgment of the Lord 
 Chancellor’s philosophical theory, (c) This work, 
 written by Bushel more than forty years after his 
 master’s death, abounding with constant expressions 
 of affection and respect, states that, during a recess 
 of parliament, the King sent for the Chancellor, and 
 ordered him not to resist the charges, as resistance 
 would be injurious to the King and to Buckingham, (d) 
 Upon examining the journals of the House of Lords, 
 
 I found that this interview between the King and 
 the Chancellor was recorded. 
 
 Having made this progress, I was informed that 
 there were many of Lord Bacon’s letters in the 
 
 (a) See Mr. Bushel’s extract, p. 19. 
 
 (b) Baconiana, page 81. 
 
 (c) See note G G G. 
 
 ( d) See page cccxliv. 
 
10 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Lambeth Library. I immediately applied to the 
 Archbishop of Canterbury for permission to read and 
 take extracts from them. With this application his 
 Grace, with his usual courtesy and kindness, most 
 readily complied. 
 
 In one of the letters there is the following passage 
 in Greek characters: 
 
 O (j) /Liy 0(j)(psvg, (pap (3e it <ppop pe to tray, Sar veviap 
 Kopvig J Ktvavpa KoXvpf3ag l (3 vt i ioiXX oay OaT i 
 
 ave yooS coappavT (pop I Oey (vepe vot 6e yptciTEGT o^^cvScpc 
 iv IcrpaeX vttov coy op Oe coaXX <peXX. ( d ) 
 
 In another letter he says, “ And for the briberies 
 and gifts wherewith I am charged, when the books 
 of hearts shall be opened, I hope I shall not be found 
 to have the troubled fountain of a corrupt heart, in a 
 depraved habit of taking rewards to pervert justice; 
 howsoever I may be frail, and partake of the abuses 
 of the times.” (b) 
 
 From this ambiguity by a man so capable of 
 expressing himself clearly, and whose favourite maxim 
 was, “ Do not inflate plain things into marvels, but 
 reduce marvels to plain things,” I was confirmed in 
 the opinion which I had formed. I, therefore, pro¬ 
 ceeded to collect the evidence. 
 
 After great deliberation I arranged all the mate¬ 
 rials ; and, from the chance that I might not live to 
 
 (a) Decyphered it is as follows: Of my offence, far be it 
 from me to say, dat veniam corvis ; vexat censura Columbas: 
 but I will say that I have good warrant for: they were not the 
 greatest offenders in Israel upon whom the wall fell. 
 
 ( b) Letter to the King, May 25, 1620. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 11 
 
 complete the work, I some years since prepared that 
 part which relates to the charge against him, and 
 entrusted it to a friend, that, in the event of my 
 death, my researches might not be lost. 
 
 The life is now submitted to public consideration. 
 
 I cannot conclude without returning my grateful 
 acknowledgments to the many friends to whom I 
 am much indebted :—particularly to Archdeacon 
 Wrangham, with the feeling of more than forty 
 years’ uninterrupted friendship;—to my intelligent 
 friend, B. Hey wood Bright, for his important 
 co-operation and valuable communication from the 
 Tanner Manuscripts;—to my dear friend, William 
 Wood, for his encouragement during the progress of 
 the work, and for his admirable translation of the 
 Novum Organum. How impossible is it for me to 
 express my obligations to the sweet taste of her to 
 whom I am indebted for every blessing of my life! 
 
 I am well aware of the many faults with which 
 the work abounds, and particularly of the occasional 
 repetitions. I must trust to the lenient sentence of 
 my reader, after he has been informed that it was not 
 pursued in the undisturbed quiet of literary leisure, 
 but in the few hours which could be rescued from 
 arduous professional duties; not carefully composed 
 by a student in his pensive citadel, but by a daily 
 “ delver in the laborious mine of the law,” where 
 the vexed printer frequently waited till the impatient 
 client was dispatched ; and that, to publish it as it is, 
 I have been compelled to forego many advantages; 
 to relinquish many of the enjoyments of social life, 
 and to sacrifice not only the society, but even the 
 
12 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 correspondence of friends very dear to me. I ask, 
 and I am sure I shall not ask in vain, for their 
 forgiveness. One friend the grave has closed over, 
 who cheered me in my task when I was weary, and 
 better able, from his rich and comprehensive mind, 
 to detect errors than any man, was always more 
 happy to encourage and to commend. Wise as the 
 serpent, gall-less as the dove, pious and pure of 
 heart, tender, affectionate and forgiving, this and more 
 than this I can say, after the trial of forty years, was 
 my friend and instructor, Samuel Taylor Coleridge. 
 
 I am now to quit for ever a work upon which I 
 have so long and so happily been engaged. I must 
 separate from my companion, my familiar friend, 
 with whom, for more than thirty years, I have taken 
 sweet counsel. With a deep feeling of humility I 
 think of the conclusion of my labours ; but I think 
 of it with that satisfaction ever attendant upon the 
 hope of being an instrument of good. “ Power to 
 do good is the true and lawful end of aspiring. Merit 
 and good works is the end of man’s motion, and 
 conscience of the same is the accomplishment of 
 man’s rest; for, if man can be a partaker of God’s 
 theatre, he will be a partaker of God’s rest .’' (a) 
 
 I please myself with the hope that I may induce 
 some young man, who, at his entrance into life, is 
 anxious to do justice to his powers, to enjoy that 
 “ suavissima vita indies sentire se jieri meliorem ,” to 
 look into the works of our illustrious countryman. 
 I venture also to hope that, in these times of inquiry, 
 
 (a) Essay on Great Place. 
 
PREFACE. 
 
 13 
 
 the works of this philosopher may, without inter¬ 
 fering with academical studies, be deemed deserving 
 the consideration of our universities, framed, as they 
 so wisely are, for the diffusion of the knowledge of 
 our predecessors. Perhaps some opulent member of 
 the university, when considering how he may extend 
 to future times the blessings which he has enjoyed in 
 his pilgrimage, may think that in the University of 
 Cambridge, a Verulamian Professorship might be 
 productive of good :—but these expectations may be 
 the illusions of a lover; and it is not given to man to 
 love and to be wise.—There are, however, pleasures 
 of which nothing can bereave me; the consciousness 
 that I have endeavoured to render some assistance to 
 science and to the profession, the noble intellectual 
 profession of which I am a member. How deeply, how 
 gratefully do I feel; with what a lofty spirit and 
 sweet content do I think of the constant kindness of 
 my many, many friends. 
 
 And now, for the last time, I use the words of 
 Lord Bacon, “ Being at some pause, looking back 
 into that I have passed through, this writing seemeth 
 to me, ‘ si nunquam fallit imago,’ as far as a man 
 can judge of his own work, not much better than the 
 noise or sound which musicians make while they are 
 tuning their instruments, which is nothing pleasant 
 to hear, but yet is a cause why the music is sweeter 
 afterwards: so have 1 been content to tune the 
 instruments of the muses, that they may play that 
 have better hands.” 
 
 To posterity and distant ages Bacon bequeathed 
 his good name, and posterity and distant ages will 
 
14 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 do him ample justice. Wisdom herself has suffered 
 in his disgrace, but year after year brings to light 
 proof of the arts that worked Bacon’s downfall, and 
 covered his character with obloquy. He will find 
 some future historian who, assisted by the patient 
 labours of the present editor, with all his zeal and 
 ten-fold his ability; with power equal to the work 
 and leisure to pursue it, will dig the statue from the 
 rubbish which may yet deface it; and, obliterating 
 one by one the paltry libels scrawled upon its base, 
 will place it, to the honour of true science, in a 
 temple worthy of his greatness. 
 
 B. MONTAGU. 
 
 November 17, 1834. 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 ^act I. 
 
 FROM THE BIRTH OF BACON TO THE DEATH OF 
 QUEEN ELIZABETH. 
 
 Chapter I. 
 
 From the Birth of Bacon to the Death of his 
 Father. 
 
 His Birth. The University. New Atlantis. Paris. 
 
 Death of his Father. Return to England. 
 
 Chapter II. 
 
 From the Death of his Father till he engaged 
 in active life.xix 
 
 His admission at Gray’s Inn. His occupations. 
 
 Cljapttr ill. 
 
 From his entrance into active life till the 
 Death of Elizabeth.xxv 
 
 Parties at court. Member for Middlesex. In his first 
 speech recommends improvement of the law. Justitia 
 Universalis. Speech as to the subsidies, which offends 
 the Queen. His dignified conduct. Ben Jonson’s des¬ 
 cription of him as a speaker. Exertions to be Solicitor 
 General. Applies to the Lord Keeper, Lord Burleigh, 
 
 Sir Robert Cecil. Essex’s exertions. Fleming ap¬ 
 pointed. Essex gives him an estate at Twickenham. 
 
16 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 Returns to Twickenham. Invents barometer and other 
 instruments. Resumes his professional labours. Em¬ 
 ployed by the Queen. Effort to secure a vacancy. M. A. 
 of Cambridge. Work on Elements of the law. Essex 
 appointed to command in Spain. The Essays. Sacred 
 Meditations. Colours of Good and Evil. Proposal of 
 marriage to Lady Hatton. Reading on Statute of Uses. 
 Essex solicits command in Ireland. Interruption of inti¬ 
 macy between Bacon and Essex. Bacon dissuades 
 Essex from accepting the command. Essex appointed 
 Lord Lieutenant. His rash conduct. Intercession by 
 Bacon with the Queen. Return of Essex. His impri¬ 
 sonment. Bacon’s friendship. Private investigation in 
 Star Chamber. Bacon’s objection to this. Apology for 
 Essex. Public proceeding against Essex. Bacon coun¬ 
 sel against Essex. Reasons for this. Trial of Essex. 
 His application to the Queen after the trial. Obloquy 
 of Bacon. Imprudent conduct of partizans of Essex. 
 Bacon’s exertions with the Queen for Essex. Writes 
 letters for him. Impropriety of this. Essex liberated. 
 Monopoly of Sweet Wines. Essex’s violence. Bacon’s 
 interview with the Queen. Treason of Essex. Bacon’s 
 difficult situation. Trial of Essex. His Execution. 
 Account of his treason. Death of the Queen. Bacon’s 
 praise of the Queen. 
 
 II. 
 
 FROM THE DEATH OF ELIZABETH TO THE 
 DEATH OF BACON. 
 
 Cljapter I. 
 
 From the accession of James till the publica¬ 
 tion of the Wisdom of the Ancients . . . xcviii 
 
 Bacon’s prospects. Approach of the King. Parliament. 
 
 Visit to Eton. Letter to Saville. Education. Great- 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 17 
 
 ness of Britain. Extent of Territory. Compactness. 
 Martial valour. Riches. His parliamentary exertions. 
 Advancement of Learning. Decision. Dedication. 
 Objections from Divines. Politicians. Errors of learned 
 men. Study of Words. Government. Posthumous 
 fame. Analysis of science of Man. Exertions in active 
 life. Ireland. Scotland. Church Reform. Church 
 Controversies. Edification of the Church. Solicitor 
 General. Cogitata et Visa. Wisdom of the Ancients. 
 
 Chapter n. 
 
 From the publication of the Wisdom of the 
 Ancients to the publication of the Novum 
 Organum . 
 
 Marshalsea. Charter House. Death of the Prince. 
 Essays. Prosecution of Lord Sanquhar. Confession 
 of Faith. Attorney General. Parliament of 1614. 
 Duelling. Undertakers. Benevolences. St. John. 
 Peacham. Consulting the Judges. Owen. Villiers. 
 Political advice to Villiers. Overbury. Somerset. 
 Disputes between King’s Bench and Chancery. Privy 
 Counsellor. Resignation and Death of Lord Brackley. 
 Lord Keeper. His pecuniary loss. Presents to the 
 Monarch and Officers of State. To the Lord Keeper. 
 To Judges. Abolition in France of the Epices. King’s 
 journey to Scotland. Takes his seat in Chancery. His 
 address. Jurisdiction. Patents. Delays. Expense. 
 Spanish match. Marriage of Sir John Villiers. Finance. 
 Civil List. Lord Chancellor. Wrenham. Dulwich. 
 Dutch merchants. Lord Suffolk. Buckingham receives 
 £20,000 for the place of Lord Treasurer. Bacon’s 
 judicial exertions. Buckingham’s interference. Slander 
 of Wraynham. Presents in the case of Egerton and 
 Egerton. In Aubrey and Bronker. From Grocers and 
 Apothecaries. Hody and Hody. Lord Clifford threatens 
 
 cli 
 
18 
 
 CONTENTS. 
 
 to assassinate the Chancellor. Law Reporters. Ordi¬ 
 nances in Chancery. Judges, character of. Gardens, 
 Bacon’s delight in. Lincoln’s Inn Fields. Gorhambury. 
 His philosophical house. Alienation Office. York 
 House. His sixtieth birth-day. Ben Jonson’s poem. 
 
 Cljaptec ill. 
 
 From the publication of the Novum Organum 
 to his retirement from active life .... 
 
 Resolution to publish Novum Organum. Literate 
 Experience. Division of Instauratio Magna. Division 
 of the Sciences. Novum Organum. Our powers. 
 Defects of the Senses. Division of Idols. Idols of the 
 Tribe: of the Market: of the Den: of the Theatre. 
 Destruction of Idols. Our motives for acquiring know¬ 
 ledge. Obstacles to acquiring knowledge. Want of 
 time. Want of means. Right road. Formation of 
 opinion. Affirmative table. Negative table. Table of 
 comparisons. Table of results. Instances, solitary, 
 travelling, journeying, constituent, patent, maxima, 
 frontier, singular, divorced, deviating, crucial. Diffe¬ 
 rences. Parliamentary proceedings. Charge of bribery. 
 Decision against donors. Presents advised by counsel. 
 Custom of receiving presents. Error of judging of 
 past by present times. Presents made by men of emi¬ 
 nence. Presents of furniture. Presents customary. No 
 influence on judgment. Particular charges. Fears of 
 the King and Buckingham. Advice of Williams. Inter¬ 
 view with the King. Meeting of Parliament. King’s 
 speech. Letter to the Lords. Letter to the King. 
 Sentence. His silence. Letter from the Tower. Letter 
 to the King. Lambeth Library. His will. Silence of 
 friends. Tennison. Bushel. Williams, Lord Keeper. 
 
 cclx 
 
CONTENTS. 
 
 19 
 
 Chapter IV. 
 
 From his Fall to his Death .... ccclxxviii 
 
 Imprisonment of Bacon. Liberation. Release of 
 fine. History of Henry VII. Greatness of states. 
 Familiar illustrations. His piety. Eton College. De 
 Augmentis. History of Life and Death. Importance of 
 knowledge of the body. Consumption. Vital spirit. 
 
 All bodies have a spirit. Flight. Death. Importance of 
 science of Animal Spirit. Bacon’s works after his retire¬ 
 ment. Gondomar. D’Effiat. Sir Julius Ceesar. Selden. 
 
 Ben Jonson. Meautys. Bacon’s pardon. Death of 
 James. Decline of Bacon’s health. Apothegms. Psalms. 
 Confession of Faith. Prayers. Student’s prayer. 
 Author’s prayer. Chancellor’s prayer. Prayers in the 
 Instauration—in the De Augmentis —in the Novum 
 Organum —in the Instauratio, third part—in the Minor 
 publications. Paradoxes. Letters. Scepticism, nature 
 of. Rawley’s statement. Bacon’s will. Cause of Bacon’s 
 death. Bacon’s last letter. Opening of Bacon’s will. 
 Funeral. Monument. Meautys. Bacon’s temperament. 
 Bacon’s person. His mind. Extent of views. Senses. 
 Imagination. Understanding. Temporary inability to 
 acquire knowledge. Particular studies. Memory, 
 Composition. Causes of Bacon’s entering active life. 
 Bacon’s entrance into active life. His motive for reform. 
 Reformer. Bacon as a Lawyer—Judge — Patron — 
 Statesman. Reform as Statesman and Lawyer—as 
 Statesman. Reform of law. His private life. Conver¬ 
 sation. Wit. Religious. Conclusion. 
 
THE 
 
 THEORY OF THE'FIRMAMENT. 
 
 But as so many foiling inconveniences are found to 
 spring up on all sides, it should be deemed satisfactory 
 if any thing can be avouched less revolting. 
 
 Let us, therefore, construct a scheme of the universe, 
 according to that measure of history hitherto known to us, 
 reserving for our future judgment all new lights, after 
 history, and through history, our philosophy, by induction, 
 may have reached a maturer age. But we will, in the 
 outset, premise some points that have reference to the 
 matter composing the heavenly bodies, whence their mo¬ 
 tion and formation may be better understood; afterwards 
 setting forth our thoughts and ideas of that motion itself, 
 the chief subject under discussion. 
 
 Nature then, in the separating of matter, seems to have 
 drawn an impassable bar between the rare and dense, and to 
 have assigned the globe of the earth to the order of the 
 dense; but every thing, from the very surface of the earth, 
 and its waters, to the utmost extremity of the firmament, to 
 that of the rar a or volatile, as it were, to twin classes of first 
 principles, n . indeed of equal but of suitable portions. 
 Nor indeed Goes either the water clinging to the clouds, or 
 the wind pent up in the earth, disarrange this natural and 
 appropriate position of things: but this difference, be¬ 
 tween rare or volatile, and dense or tangible, is entirely 
 primordial or essential, and is what the system-of the uni¬ 
 verse chiefly has recourse to. It proceeds from a state 
 of things the most simple possible—this is from the abun¬ 
 dance and scarceness of mat' ”, in proportion to its exten¬ 
 sion. What belong to the Older of subtile or volatile, as 
 
 VOL. xv. B 
 
2 
 
 THEORY OF THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 found here among us, (we are speaking of those bodies 
 that are simple and perfect, not of such as are compounded 
 and imperfectly mixed,) are clearly those two bodies, air 
 and flame. But these are to be propounded as bodies 
 utterly heterogeneous, not, as is commonly supposed, that 
 flame is nothing else than air set on fire. To these cor¬ 
 respond, in the higher regions, the setherial and sidereal 
 nature, as, in the inferior, water and oil, and in the still 
 deeper parts, mercury and sulphur, and generally crude 
 and fat bodies, or, in other words, bodies that have a 
 repugnance to, and such as are susceptible of, flame; (for 
 salts are of a compounded nature, consisting of crude 
 and at the same time also of inflammable parts). It is 
 now to be seen by what compact these two great families * 
 of things, air and flame, shall have occupied by far the 
 greater part of the universe, and what are those parts they 
 hold in the system. In air nearest to the earth, flame 
 lives but a momentary life, and utterly perishes. But 
 after the air has begun to be more depurate from the 
 effluviae of the earth and well rarified, the nature of 
 flame through various* adventures explores its way, and 
 tries to take its station in the air, and after a time ac¬ 
 quires some duration, not from succession, as with us, 
 but in identity; f which takes place for a time in some of 
 the feebler comets, which are in a manner of an inter¬ 
 mediate nature between a successive and a fixed flame; the 
 flamy nature however is not fixed or established, before its 
 arrival at the body of the moon. There the flame lays 
 down its extingnishable part, and protects itself on all 
 sides, but yet it is a flame, weak without vigour, and 
 having little of radiation of that kind; that is, neither 
 vivid from its own nature, nor much excited by a contrary 
 one; neither is it sincere, but, from its composition with an 
 etherial substance, such as is there met with, it is stained 
 and mixed up. And in the region of Mercury flame has 
 not very plentifully established itself, since, by the accu¬ 
 mulation of its whole amount, it is able to form only a 
 small planet, and that withal labouring and struggling, like 
 an ignis fatuus, with a great and highly disturbed diversity 
 
 * Per varios casus, per tot discrimina rerum, Virg. iEn. iii. 208. ‘ Per 
 
 varios casus tentat et experitur/ may be translated ‘ after various adventurous 
 efforts tries/ or, ‘ adventurous through many casualties tries/ 
 t Identitus : quaevis actio repetita. 
 
THEORY OF THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 3 
 
 of fluctuating motions, and not bearing to be separated but 
 for a small distance from the guardian protection of the 
 sun. Moreover, after we arrive at the region of Venus, 
 the flamy nature begins to gain strength and to wax 
 brighter, and to be collected into a globe of a tolerable 
 size; nevertheless she also is the handmaid of the sun, 
 and shudders with an abhorrence of any greater recession 
 from him. But in the region of the sun, flame is set, as it 
 were, on a throne, the mean being among the flames of 
 the planets, for there it is stronger and more glittering 
 than the flames of the fixed stars, on account of the 
 greater restraining # influence shed all around, and the 
 closest possible union. But flame in the region of Mars is 
 observed to be likewise powerful, denoting by its splendor 
 the sun’s vicinity, yet existing of its own proper virtue, 
 and admitting of a separation from the sun to the extent 
 of the whole diameter of the firmament. In the region of 
 Jupiter, however, flame, laying aside, in a gradual man¬ 
 ner, this emulation, appears more serene and clear, not so 
 much from its proper nature, (as the planet Venus, she being 
 more sparkling,) but from being less moved and excited by 
 the nature spread around him;f in which region it is 
 probable that takes place, which Galileo devised, to wit, 
 that the firmament there begins to be studded with stars, 
 although from their minuteness invisible. But again, in 
 the region of Saturn the nature of flame seems to become 
 somewhat languid and faint, as being both farther removed 
 from an alliance with the sun, and exhausted by the neigh¬ 
 bouring constellated firmament. Lastly, a flamy and 
 sidereal nature having overpowered the eetherial nature, 
 gives a constellated firmament composed of an setherial 
 and sidereal nature, as the globe of the earth is of con¬ 
 tinent and waters scattered up and down on this side and 
 that side, the estherial substance being however overruled, 
 subdued, and assimilated, so as to thoroughly endure and 
 become subservient to the sidereal. Wherefore, from the 
 earth to the summit of the firmament are found three 
 
 * Antiperistasin: 7T£pi^a(ng signifies, generally, ‘circumstance:’ but in 
 Athen. 1. 5. it also denotes ‘ circuitus ’ : at fit rrjg Trspi^acreiog Srvpcu tov 
 dpi9fi.bv tiKocri ovacn , portae, quae in circuitu erant, viginti, &c.; therefore the 
 illustrious author may mean by ‘ antiperistasis ’ the attractive influence of the 
 sun opposed to, and which detains [cohibet] the planets in their orbits. 
 
 t Or, “ from the nature spread around him being less,” &c. according as 
 irritata and exasperata are taken in the nominative or ablative case. 
 
4 
 
 THEORY OF T1IE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 genera of regions, and, as it were, three stages, as relate 
 to the region in which flame is extinguished, the region in 
 which flame disperses itself; moreover, to quibble about 
 contiguity and continuity in soft and flowing bodies, would 
 be an utter vulgarism. Nevertheless that point should be 
 understood, namely, that nature is accustomed to advance 
 to spaces by gradual steps, then, of a sudden, by leaps, 
 and to alternate this sort of process, otherwise no fabric 
 could be formed did she always proceed by insensible de¬ 
 grees; for what a jump as respects the expansion of matter 
 is there from water to air, even ever so dense or clouded, 
 and yet these bodies, so different in their nature, are joined 
 together in position and superficies without any medium or 
 interposing distance: nor is it a less leap as to a substan¬ 
 tial nature, from the region of the air to the region of the 
 moon; in like manner, a prodigious one from the firma¬ 
 ment. Wherefore if any one shall have taken for con¬ 
 tinuous and contiguous, not from the manner of their 
 annexation, but from the diversity of the bodies con¬ 
 nected, those three regions we have spoken of, they can 
 only be held for contiguous in their limits. 
 
 But now it is time to notice, in a clear and explicit 
 manner, the amount and nature of what this our theory, 
 relating to the substance matters of a system, may estab¬ 
 lish, as also of what it may give the negative to, in order 
 that it may be maintained or overthrown. It denies that 
 vulgar opinion, that flame is air ignited, by affirming that 
 those two bodies, air and flame, are clearly heterogeneous, 
 like water and oil, sulphur and mercury. It negatives 
 that vacuum coacervatum held by Gilbert, to obtain among 
 the scattered spheres, but affirms that the spaces are filled 
 either with aerial or a flamy nature. It denies that the 
 moon is an aqueous, or a dense, or a solid body, but affirms 
 that it is of a flamy nature, though it be gentle withal and 
 weak, being indeed the first rudiment and the last sedi¬ 
 ment of ccelestial flame; since flame, (according to its 
 density), no less than air and liquids, admits of innu¬ 
 merable degrees. It establishes that flame, justly and 
 freely posited, becomes fixed and subsists, no less than air 
 and water; nor is it a momentary thing, and only suc¬ 
 cessive in its bulk, by renewal and feeding, as is the case 
 here witli us. It maintains that flame has a natural ten¬ 
 dency to go and collect itself into globes, after the manner 
 of an earthy nature, but not at all like air and water, 
 
THEORY OF THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 which are gathered together in orbs and the interstices of 
 globes, but never into perfect globes. It avers that the 
 same flamy nature in the proper place, (that is) in the 
 constellated firmament, is dispersed in infinite round 
 atoms, but yet in such sort that that twofold principle 
 of pure air and constellation be not put off, nor yet flame 
 extended to the heaven of heavens. It affirms that stars 
 are real flames, but that the actions of flame in the heavens 
 should in no wise be wrested into a comparison with the 
 actions of flame with us, most of which operate by ca¬ 
 sualty. It affirms that the ether interspersed among 
 stars, and the stars themselves, have respective relations 
 to air and flame, but sublimated and rectified. And thus 
 with respect to the substance of the constitution or system 
 of the universe, some such ideas as these have suggested 
 themselves to our mind. 
 
 We must now speak of the motions of the heavenly 
 bodies, on account of which we have adduced these pre¬ 
 mises. It appears reasonable to suppose that rest is not 
 excluded from nature as to any whole (for we are not 
 now discoursing of small parts). This (waiving logical 
 and mathematical subtleties) is mainly evident from the 
 fact, that the inciting causes, and the velocities of the 
 heavenly motions, gradually slacken themselves, as tending 
 to ultimate cessation, and because that even the heavenly 
 bodies partake of rest, hard by the poles, and because, 
 if immobility be excluded the system, it is dissolved and 
 dissipated. But, if there be a certain accumulation and 
 mass of matter of an immoveable nature, there seems no 
 further room to doubt that it is the globe of the earth ; for 
 a dense and close cementing of matter disposes toward 
 a languid and reluctant motion; as, on the contrary, a 
 loose unfolding of it towards a brisk and ready one. And 
 not without reason did Telesius, (who revived the phi¬ 
 losophy and discussions of Parmenides in a treatise on 
 the principle of cold), introduce into nature, not indeed a 
 co-essentiality and coupling (which was his wish), bat, 
 however, an affinity and agreement, to wit, on one side, of 
 hot, shining, rare, and immoveable, and, on the opposite 
 part, of cold, dark, dense, and immoveable, by placing 
 the site of the first harmony in the heavens, of the second 
 on the earth. But, if rest and immobility be conceded, 
 it seems fit that we also suppose a motion without limit and 
 to the uttermost moveable, especially in natures opposed to 
 
6 
 
 THEORY OF THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 each other. This motion is commonly rotatory, such as 
 is generally found in the heavenly bodies; for motion in 
 a circle has no termination, and seems to flow from a 
 natural desire of the body, which moves, only that it 
 may move, and follow itself, and seek its own embraces, 
 and excite its nature, and enjoy it, and exercise itself in 
 its proper operation; whereas a motion in a right line 
 may seem a finite journeying, and a movement to a boun¬ 
 dary of cessation or rest, and that it may attain some¬ 
 thing, and then quietly lay down its motion. Wherefore 
 respecting that rotatory motion, which motion is true and 
 perennial, and commonly supposed peculiar to the heavenly 
 bodies, we must inquire how it equips itself in the outset, 
 and by what rate of conduct it incites and checks itself, 
 and what the nature may be of those influences which 
 really act upon it. In our progress of unfolding these 
 things, we will refer to computations and tables, that 
 beautiful mathematical dogma (that all motions are res¬ 
 trained to circles, perfect, or eccentric, or concentric), and 
 that high flown dictum (that the earth is, in respect of the 
 firmament, like a point of no magnitude), and many more 
 feigned discoveries of astronomers. But first we will 
 divide the heavenly motions: some are cosmici , others 
 aci invicem . Those we call cosmici , which the heavenly 
 bodies acquire from the consent not only of the heavens 
 but of the universe: those ad invicem , in which some 
 heavenly bodies depend on others: and this is a true 
 and necessary division. On the supposition, then, of the 
 earth standing still (for that at present appears to us the 
 truer hypothesis), it is manifest that the heavens are car¬ 
 ried round by a diurnal motion, the measure of which 
 motion is the space of twenty-four hours, or thereabouts; 
 and, consequently, the revolution is from east to west, 
 upon certain points, (which they call poles,) south and 
 north: moreover the heavens are not whirled round move- 
 able poles, nor, back again, are the points different from 
 those stated; and this motion verily seems in harmony 
 with universal nature, and therefore sole, except as far as 
 it admits both of decrements and declinations; accord¬ 
 ing to which decrements and declinations this motion 
 shoots through every thing moveable, and pervades all 
 space, from the constellated firmament even to the very 
 bowels and inmost recesses of the earth; not by any 
 snatched or harassing course, but by perpetual consent; 
 
THEORY OF THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 7 
 
 and that motion in the constellated firmament is perfect 
 and entire, as well as to a just measure of time, as by a 
 lull restoration of place; but, inasmuch as that motion* 
 recedes from the summit of the heavens, insomuch does 
 it become more imperfect, with reference to its slowness as 
 well as its aberration from a circular motion. And, first, 
 we must speak distinctly of that slowness. We affirm, 
 that the diurnal motion of Saturn is too slow to carry it 
 round, and restore it to the same point in twenty-four 
 hours; but that the starry firmament is carried on quicker, 
 and outstrips Saturn by such an excess, as, in as many 
 days as complete thirty years, would agree with a whole 
 circuit of the heavens. The same is to be said of the rest 
 of the planets, according to the difference of the periodic 
 time of each planet; so that the diurnal motion of the 
 starry firmament (in that same period, without any regard 
 to the magnitude of the circle) is nearly by one hour 
 swifter, than the diurnal motion of the moon; for, if the 
 moon could complete its revolution in twenty-four days, 
 then that excess would be one whole hour; wherefore 
 that much talked of motion, in an opposite and contrary 
 direction from west to east, which is attributed as pecu¬ 
 liar to the planets, is not true, but only apparent, from the 
 outstripping of the starry firmament toward the west, and 
 the leaving behind of the planets toward the east, which 
 being granted, it is evident that the velocity of that cos- 
 mical motion, by an unperturbed law of nature, as it des¬ 
 cends, decreases, so that the nearer each planet approaches 
 the earth, the slower it moves; whereas the received opi¬ 
 nion overthrows and turns upside down that law; and by 
 attributing a motion of their own to the planets, falls into 
 the absurdity, that the planets, the nearer they are to the 
 earth (which is, naturally, the place of rest), in that ratio 
 have their celerity increased; which astronomers, in the 
 most trifling and unsuccessful manner, attempt to excuse, 
 by a relaxation of the force of the primum mobile. But 
 if it seem to any one a matter of wonder, that, in spaces 
 so vast as interpose between the starry firmament and the 
 moon, that motion should gradually decrease by portions 
 so small, by less, to wit, than one hour, which is the 
 twenty-fourth part of the diurnal motion ; it subsides when 
 we consider that each planet, the nearer it is to the earth, 
 completes lesser circles, revolving in a shorter circuit; so 
 that, the decrement of the size of the circle being added to the 
 
8 
 
 THEORY OF TUE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 decrement of the periodic time, that motion is perceived to 
 decrease in a marked manner. Up to this time we have 
 spoken of the velocity, absolutely and apart, as if the planets, 
 placed, for example, in the plane of the equator, or of any of 
 its parallels, were simply overtaken by the starry firmament, 
 and by one another, but yet in that selfsame circle; for 
 this would be a mere leaving behind without any respect to 
 obliquity. But it is manifest, that the planets not only 
 hasten on their course with unequal relative speed, but 
 do not return to the same point of a circle, but decline 
 towards the south and the north, the limits of which 
 declination are the tropics; which declination has produced 
 a circle oblique to us, and its different polarity; after the 
 same manner, that that inequality of velocity has caused 
 the motion of an opposite action. Nor really is there 
 need of this figment in the nature of things, since by 
 introducing spiral lines (the thing that comes nearest to 
 sense and fact) the matter in dispute may be settled, 
 and those points be safe and sound. Besides (which is 
 the sum and substance of the matter) these spirals are 
 nothing else than deviations from a perfectly circular mo¬ 
 tion, which the planets cannot bear; for in proportion as 
 the substances degenerate in purity and expansion, so also 
 do their motions. But it happens, that as in point of cele¬ 
 rity the higher planets are carried on quicker, and the 
 inferior slower; so, also, that the superior planets form 
 spires that approximate # and more nearly resemble cir¬ 
 cles, but the inferior curves more disjoined and eccentric; 
 for, by descending more and more, there is a perpetual 
 departure both from that prime state of velocity and that 
 perfect circular motion, by a law of nature no where 
 interrupted. In this however the planets agree, (as bodies 
 retaining much of a common nature, though in other 
 respects differing,) that they have the same limits of decli¬ 
 nation. For neither doth Saturn return within the tropics, 
 nor does the moon stray beyond the tropics (and yet we 
 must not dismiss from our consideration what has been 
 handed down and remarked by some upon the wanderings 
 of the planet Venus), but all the planets, whether superior 
 
 * Propiores, if not misprinted for propriores, must respect the foci of the 
 ellipses; which explains “disjunctas: ” but, if the illustrious author did write 
 propiores, why did he afterwards tautologize by saying “ quaque circulos propius 
 referant ? ” 
 
THEORY OF THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 9 
 
 or inferior, after their arrival at the tropics, turn themselves, 
 and recommence a course back again, weary of a lesser 
 spiral range, such as they would have to undergo, if they 
 did approach nearer the Poles; and dreading that loss of 
 motion as destructive of their nature. For howsoever it 
 may be, in the starry firmament, both the stars near the 
 poles, and those 'about the equinoctial, preserve their ranks 
 and positions, reduced into order, one by another, with 
 steadfastness and consummate uniformity; nevertheless the 
 planets seem to be of that mixed nature, that they admit 
 not willingly an ampler circuit, nor bear at all a shorter. 
 Furthermore, these doctrines concerning the heavenly mo¬ 
 tions seem to us somewhat preferable to forced and opposite 
 motions, and of a different polarity of the Zodiac, and an 
 inverted order of velocity, and such like, which in no way 
 agree with the nature of things, though they may in a 
 manner accord with calculations. Neither have eminent 
 astronomers been blind to these matters, but, wrapped up 
 in their craft, and reveries of perfect circles, catching at 
 subtleties and the evil results of a fashionable philosophy, 
 they have disdained to follow nature. Truly, however, is 
 that despotic decretal against nature of wise men more mis¬ 
 chievous, than the very simplicity and utter credulity of 
 the uninformed, when any one, for instance, looks with 
 scorn at truth, because it is manifest. And yet huge is 
 that evil, and most widely extended, that the human intel¬ 
 lect, whenever it finds itself unequal to subjects, has a pre¬ 
 dilection to soar above them. 
 
 But now we must inquire whether that one and sim¬ 
 ple motion in a circle, and in a spiral curve, from east 
 to west, upon certain south and north poles, cease and ter¬ 
 minate with the heavens, or it also be conveyed down to 
 things beneath. For it would not be ingenuous in us to 
 feign here in this nether region such aphorism as they sup¬ 
 pose with respect to the heavens. Wherefore, if in these 
 regions be also found that motion, it will appear that, even 
 in the heavens, it is of like kind, according to a nature 
 common or cosmical, with that we experience. In the first 
 place then it is plainly evident, that it is not confined to the 
 limits of the heavens. But the demonstrations and proofs of 
 this matter we have fully laid down in our anticipation res¬ 
 pecting the flowing and ebbing of the sea; therefore, to that 
 we refer; and this being supposed and taken for granted, 
 we will proceed to the rest of the heavenly motions. But 
 
10 
 
 THEORY OF THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 these we have said are not cosmical, bat reciprocal. There 
 are four kinds of motions visible in the heavens, besides that 
 which we have called cosmical, which is a diurnal motion in 
 curves within the tropics. For either the stars are raised 
 higher, and again depressed lower, as they may be farther 
 from and nearer to the earth ; or they bend and wind them¬ 
 selves through the latitude of the Zodiac, by running out 
 more to the south, or more to the north, and by traversing 
 what they call the dragons ; # or they vary from an incited 
 and also an acquisitive motion T (for we join together these 
 two), advancing sometimes quicker, sometimes slower, 
 sometimes progressively, sometimes retrogressively, some¬ 
 times even stopping and staying; or at a certain distance 
 from the sun, they are more or less bound together and 
 drawn round each other. We will recount the causes and 
 natures of these only, generally touching the heads of each; 
 for our present undertaking requires that to be done in this 
 place. But in order to this, and to secure beforehand, as 
 well as to open the way, we must frankly declare our sen¬ 
 timents upon some of the maxims of philosophers, as also 
 upon certain hypotheses of astronomers, as well as their 
 observations during several ages, out of which materials 
 they built up their mysteries; all which things appear to 
 us to be Rill of error and confusion. Wherefore there are 
 axioms, or rather certain conceits, which, received by phi¬ 
 losophers, and transferred to astronomy, and unfortunately 
 being credited, have corrupted the science. Our rejection 
 of them will be simple, as well as our judgment upon them; 
 for it is not suitable to waste precious time on silly refuta¬ 
 tions. The first of these is, that all things above the moon 
 inclusively are incorruptible; and in no degree or form 
 whatever do they undergo new beginnings or changes; of 
 which it has been said elsewhere, that it is a fond and silly 
 saying. Indeed, from this source proceeds that prodigious 
 evil, that, on the appearance of every irregularity astro- 
 
 * The twelve signs of the Zodiac, I presume ; so called, because most of them 
 resemble some living creature ; thus Eurip. in Oreste has ApaKovrwdtjg, “dra¬ 
 conibus, seu anguibus plenus;” or it may mean the two Nodes, which comes to 
 the same thing, represented by the head and the tail of the Dragon ; for the as¬ 
 cending Node and Dragon’s head have the same character to denote each (££) ; 
 so likewise the descending Node and Dragon’s tail (£$). 
 
 t Consecution, used by Newton ; does it mean “ picked up on its revolution,” 
 or an orderly accompanying, «See.; a relative motion; or a train of consequential 
 motion, incitatio referring to original ? 
 
THEORY OF THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 11 
 
 nomers shape new and, as they suppose, corrected theories, 
 and adapt causes eternal and invariable to things more fre¬ 
 quently, as it were, fortuitous. 
 
 The second is that those turbulent actions of compres¬ 
 sion, expansion, resistence, and yielding, which seem to be 
 produced by a certain softness and hardness of bodies, 
 taken for elementary qualities, are not compatible with the 
 heavens, which is doubtless of the fifth and least elemen¬ 
 tary essence. But this assertion is a presumptuous and 
 arbitrary reprobation of things and sense. For wheresoever 
 any body in nature is in a state of rest, there also is a reluc¬ 
 tance to change, and that in proportion to the size of the 
 body. But wherever are natural bodies, and a local motion, 
 there will take place either repulsion, or a yielding, or a 
 resolution of motion; # for those things which have been 
 named compactness, looseness of parts, resistance, a giving 
 way, with many others, are what matter universally under¬ 
 goes every where. Yet, however, from this source have 
 come down to us all that multiplicity of orbits capriciously 
 jumbled together, which, nevertheless, they are pleased to 
 say are so distinctly interlineated, and which move and 
 turn within each other so evenly and glibly, that, notwith¬ 
 standing their intricacy, there is no entangling or vibration ; 
 all which are visionary and a palpable mockery of facts. 
 
 A third is, that to each individual body appertains a 
 peculiar and appropriate motion; and if more motions are 
 observable, all, except one, are extrinsic, and derived from 
 some other moving body. Nothing falser than this can be 
 conceived, since all bodies, from the manifold consent of 
 things, are endued with even many motions, some denoting 
 their nature, others waxing weaker and weaker, others even 
 lying hid until they be drawn forth; but there are no 
 special or proper motions of things, except the exact mea¬ 
 sures and ratios of common motions. And hence again 
 has been presented to us that primum mobile severed and 
 made distinct, and heavens on heavens, and newfangled 
 mansions contained in them, that they may suffice for the 
 performances of so many different motions. 
 
 * Sectio means, classically, a confiscation of goods, division of spoil, &c. so, 
 possibly, here it may mean dissipation of motion ; if the illustrious author uses it 
 here for secutio (a sequor) then it means an “ orderly following” (consequentia 
 t7raKo\ov0t/(H£) ; but such a word in such a sense is utterly unclassical. 
 
12 
 
 THEORY OF THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 The fourth is, that all heavenly motions are distributed 
 through perfect circles; which is a very cumbrous doctrine, 
 and has produced to us those monsters of eccentric curves 
 and epicycles; whereas, however, had they consulted nature, 
 a regulated and uniform motion belongs to a perfect circle; 
 but a motion, regulated indeed, but of different forms, such 
 as is found in many of the heavenly bodies, is the property 
 of other lines; and with good reason Gilbert ridicules these, 
 because it is not likely that nature should have formed 
 wheels, which, for example, contain one or two miles in 
 circumference, in order that a ball of a finger’s breadth 
 should be sustained: for of so little magnitude does the 
 body of a planet appear to be, compared with those circles 
 round which they pretend it is to be carried. 
 
 The fifth is, that stars are parts of their sphere, as if 
 fixed therein by a nail. But this is most clearly a reverie 
 of those who deal in mathematics, not in nature, and are 
 so stupidly intent on the motion of bodies, that they en¬ 
 tirely forget their substances. For that fastening is a par¬ 
 ticular disposition of compact and consistent things, which 
 have firm cohesions, because of the pressures of the parts. 
 But it is utterly to be unlooked for, if it be applied to soft 
 or liquid substances. 
 
 The sixth is that a star is a denser part of its sphere of 
 action; for the stars are not only not parts, but neither are 
 they denser; for they are not homogeneous with ether, and 
 that in degree only, but they are entirely heterogeneous, 
 and differ in substance; and, besides, that substance, as to 
 density, is rarer, and more expanded than an ethereal one. 
 Over and above these there are many other conceits of 
 equal whimsicality; but these shall suffice for the subject 
 now under discussion. Again, these observations have 
 been made on the fanciful dicta of philosophy respecting 
 the heavens. But as to what respects the hypotheses of 
 astronomers, the refutation of them is generally without 
 any use; for neither are they asserted for truths, nor is 
 it impossible that, although they may vary and be con¬ 
 tradictory in themselves, the phenomena should equally 
 be preserved and harmonize. Therefore, if you please, 
 between astronomy and philosophy, as if linked together 
 by an expedient and legitimate bond, be so circumspect a 
 mediator, that, on the one hand, astronomy may have her 
 previous hypotheses, which are best adapted to .expedite 
 calculations; on the other, philosophy, such as approach 
 nearest to the truth of nature; and so that the hypotheses 
 
THEORY OF THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 13 
 
 of astronomy may not prejudice the truth of a thing, and 
 that the decisions of philosophy may be such as may easily 
 be explained with regard to the phenomena of astronomy. 
 And so much for hypotheses. 
 
 Now as to astronomical observations, which are assidu¬ 
 ously accumulated, and continually are pouring down like 
 water from the sky, I have a great wish to admonish men 
 on that head; lest, haply, that be true of them, which 
 is so elegantly fabled of the fly in iEsop, that sitting 
 on the harness of a chariot, contending for victory at the 
 Olympic games, cried out, “ see what dust I excite !” Just 
 so, any petty observation, vacillating, at one time, in the 
 instrument, at this, in the eye, and at that, in a calculation, 
 and which possibly may be a reality, on account of some 
 true change in the heavens, calls into existence new firma¬ 
 ments, new spheres, and new circles. And we do not make 
 these remarks in order that any relaxation in the taking of 
 observations or the study of history should take place, both 
 which we are of opinion should by all means be stimulated 
 and intently prosecuted; but only that, in rejecting or 
 changing hypotheses, the highest prudence and a mature 
 gravity of judgment be displayed. 
 
 Wherefore, having now laid open the road as to the 
 motions themselves, we will say a few words also as to 
 their nature. We have already said, then, that there are 
 four kinds of motions of the higher order in the heavens: 
 an ascending and descending motion through the whole 
 expanse of the heavens; a motion, to the breadth of the 
 Zodiac, stretching out towards south and north: a mo¬ 
 tion in the course of the Zodiac, quick, slow, progressive, 
 retrograde, stable; and the motion of elongation from the 
 sun. And let not any one object, that that second motion 
 of the breadth of the Zodiac or of the signs* thereof may 
 be referred to that great cosmical motion, since there is 
 an inclination by turns towards the south and the north; 
 which as well as the curves themselves from one tropic 
 to the other are alike, except that the latter motion is 
 merely curvilinear, but the former hath also many turn¬ 
 ings, and lies inmost at much less distances.f For neither 
 hath this point escaped our consideration. But assuredly 
 the constant and perpetual motion of the sun in the ecliptic, 
 considered apart from all latitude and exclusively of the 
 
 * See note on “ dracones, ” page 10. 
 t “ Te sinuoso in pectore fixi.” — Pers. 5, 27. 
 
14 
 
 THEORY OF THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 signs of the Zodiac, which same sun does yet communicate 
 with the rest of the planets, as to their paths within the 
 tropics, does not allow us to entertain this opinion. Where¬ 
 fore we must seek for different sources of this and of the 
 other three motions. And these are the points, with regard 
 to the heavenly motions, which appear to us to be fraught 
 with a less degree of inconvenience. But we must see 
 what they may be found to deny, and what to affirm. They 
 deny that the earth revolves. They deny that there are in 
 the heavens two motions from the east to different points 
 of the west; and they affirm one, that outstrips and conse¬ 
 quently leaves behind others. They deny any oblique circle 
 and its different polarity, and they affirm spiral curves. 
 They deny a primum mobile separated and forced asunder; 
 and they affirm a cosmical consent, as it were the common 
 bond of the system. They affirm that a diurnal motion is 
 found not in the sky or heavens, but in the air, in waters, 
 even in what are placed on the superficies of the earth, as 
 far as relates to their turning round. They affirm that 
 that close following and cosmical rolling in fluids is their 
 whirling tendency to become consistent, till at length they 
 reach a state of perfect rest. They deny that the stars are 
 fixed like knots in a board. They deny that eccentric 
 circles, epicycles, and such like crafty devices are realities. 
 They affirm that a magnetic motion, or one having a power 
 to collect matter together, is in full vigour in the stars, by 
 which fire elicits fire, and elevates it. They affirm that, in 
 the firmament of the planets, the bodies of the planets move 
 and revolve quicker than the rest of the heavens in which 
 they are placed, which certainly revolves, but slower. They 
 affirm from that inequality the waves, the undulations, the 
 flowings and ebbings of the ethereal atmosphere of the 
 planets; and from them that various motions are drawn 
 forth. They affirm a necessity in the planets of revolving 
 quicker or slower, according as they may be placed higher 
 or lower in the heavens, and that from the consent of the 
 universe. But at the same time they affirm the languor, 
 resulting from an incitement in their course beyond what 
 nature has prescribed, in the planets both of the greater 
 and lesser orbit. They affirm the following after the sun, 
 from the defective nature of weaker flames, of Venus and 
 Mercury; since even the moving stars, the attendants of 
 Jupiter, have been discovered by Galilmus. But these are 
 matters of which we, standing as it were in the threshold 
 
THEORY OF THE FIRMAMENT. 
 
 15 
 
 of natural history, and of philosophy, take a prospective 
 view—subjects which, probably, the inquirer will be better 
 qualified to prove, in proportion to the depth of his re¬ 
 searches into natural history. But again, however, do we 
 enter our protest against this fetter of intellect. In these, 
 as in other matters, we are sure of the correctness of our 
 career, though we be not so persuaded as to the station we 
 are entitled to hold in it. But we have mentioned these 
 topics during our intellectual journey lest any one should 
 suppose, that from a wavering judgment, or a destitution of 
 talent to maintain the position, we had a preference for 
 advocating negative questions. 
 
 Wherefore we will retain, as the heavenly natures are 
 wont to do (since our treatise is of them), a dignified con¬ 
 stancy. 
 
iG 
 
 THOUGHTS AND OBSERVATIONS 
 
 OF 
 
 FRANCIS BACON, OF VERULAM, 
 
 CONCERNING THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE, OR 
 THE INVENTION OF THINGS AND OF WORKS. 
 
 Francis Bacon thought in this manner. The knowledge 
 whereof mankind is now possessed does not extend to cer¬ 
 tainty and magnitude of works. Physicians pronounce 
 many diseases incurable, and often make mistakes, and fail 
 in the treatment of the rest. Alchymists wax old and die 
 in the embraces of hope. The works of magicians are 
 transitory and barren. The mechanical arts take but little 
 light from philosophy, and do but spin on slowly the little 
 threads of their own experience. Chance is, without doubt, 
 a beneficial discoverer of inventions ; but one that scatters 
 her favours among men in distant ages and periods. So 
 he saw well, that the inventions of man, which we possess, 
 must be counted very imperfect and immature; and that, 
 in the present state of the sciences, are not now to be ex¬ 
 pected, except in a great length of time; and that those 
 which human industry has hitherto produced cannot be 
 ascribed to philosophy. 
 
 He thought also, that in this narrowness of man’s power, 
 that is most deplorable at present, and ominous for the 
 future; that men, contrary to their real interest, strive to 
 rescue ignorance from shame, and to satisfy themselves in 
 this poverty. For the physician, besides the cautels of 
 practice (in which there are no small means of defending 
 the credit of his art), calls in what is, as it were, a general 
 cautel of art, by turning into a reproach upon nature the 
 weakness of his art; and, what art does not reach, that he 
 discharges from art upon nature, as an impossibility; 
 neither can art be condemned, when itself judges. That 
 philosophy also, out of which the knowledge of physic, 
 which now is in use, is hewn, itself receives and cherishes 
 certain positions and opinions, which, if they be well 
 weighed, induce this persuasion, that nothing arduous or 
 powerful in nature is to be expected from art, and the hand 
 of man. Hence that opinion, that “ the heat of the sun or 
 star, and the heat of a fire differ in kind and that other, 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 17 
 
 that u composition is the work of man, but mixture is the 
 work of nature alone ” and the like; which, if they be 
 carefully examined, all tend to an envious circumscription 
 of human power, and a voluntary and artificial despair, 
 which rejects not only the auguriesof hope, but the chances 
 of experiment, and cuts away all the incitements and nerves 
 of industry; while they are solicitous, only, that their art 
 be thought perfect, and labour for a most worthless vain¬ 
 glory; namely, to have it believed that all is impossible 
 that is not already found. But the Alchymist, to relieve 
 his art, throws the blame on his own errors, accusing him¬ 
 self, either of not fully understanding the terms of the art 
 and its authors, which makes him attend to the whispers 
 of tradition and oral evidence; or else of failing in the true 
 proportions, and scruples, and moments of practice ; which 
 makes him renew infinitely his trials, under what he sup¬ 
 poses more favourable prospects. And, meantime, when 
 in the mazy labyrinth of experiment, he lights upon certain 
 inventions, either new in appearance or of some utility, 
 he feeds his mind with such foretastes, and displays and 
 magnifies them above their value, and supplies the rest in 
 hopes. The magician, when he finds something, as he 
 conceives, above nature effected, and is convinced that a 
 breach is once made in nature, gives his imagination wings, 
 and scarcely allows that the matter admits of degrees of 
 greater or less ; wherefore he assures himself of arriving at 
 the highest power; not seeing that they are but subjects of 
 a certain and almost definite kind, wherein magic and 
 superstition, in all ages and countries, have had power and 
 played. The mechanical person, if he chances to add a 
 higher finish or more elegant ornament to previous inven¬ 
 tions, or to compound, and bring together into one, separate 
 observations ; or to couple things more commodiously and 
 naturally with their use ; or to produce the work in greater 
 or less mass and volume than has usually been the case; 
 ranks himself at length among inventors. So he saw well, 
 that men came to sneer at the invention of new things 
 and arts as a vain attempt, and not to be relied on; or to 
 believe that important inventions are indeed extant, but 
 confined among a few, in the strictest silence and mystery; 
 or else that they descend to account those little industries 
 and additions, inventions. All which turns to the averting 
 of men’s minds from just and constant labour, and from the 
 working of inventions, noble and worthy of the human 
 race. 
 
 VOL. xv. 
 
 c 
 
18 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 He thought also, when men did set before themselves the 
 variety and exquisite perfection of works supplied for human 
 life by the mechanical arts; they are apt rather to admire 
 the provisions of man, than to apprehend his want; not 
 considering that the original observations of man and ope¬ 
 rations of nature, which are, as it were, the breath and life 
 of all that variety, are not many nor deeply fetched; and 
 that the rest belongs to man’s patience, and the subtle and 
 ruled motion of his hand or instruments; and that in this 
 the shop is very like the library, which exhibits such a 
 variety of books, in which, if one carefully examine, he will 
 find nothing but infinite iterations of the same thing, varied 
 in the form and mode of treatment, but preoccupied in in¬ 
 vention. So he saw plainly, that opinion of abundance 
 was one of the causes of want; and that both works and 
 doctrines appear many, but are, when examined, few. 
 
 He thought also that those doctrines which we have, are 
 presented with a kind of ambition and pretension, and 
 come before us dressed up and in form, as if each art were 
 in every branch perfect and finished. For it is reduced 
 into such methods and divisions, as seem to embrace and 
 include all treatises that can possibly bear on that subject. 
 And however weakly the parts are filled, and destitute of 
 any living seeds of things; yet they carry the show and 
 reason of a total; and it is brought to this, that a few 
 writings of some received authors, yet not the best chosen, 
 go for the very art in its perfection. Whereas the earliest 
 searches for truth in better faith, and with more fortunate 
 event, used to throw into aphorisms or sentences short, 
 scattered, and unconfined by method, the knowledge which 
 it was their object to gather from the consideration of things, 
 and to store up for use; which, as they showed simple 
 representations of things discovered, and evident spaces and 
 vacancies for things not discovered, were less fallacious; 
 and invited men’s talents and thoughts alike to criticism 
 and invention. But now sciences are exhibited in such 
 forms, as to claim belief, not solicit judgment, and check 
 with a sullen authority the generous springings of inven¬ 
 tion : so that every succession and devolution of philosophy 
 bears the character of master and disciple, not of inventor 
 and continuer; whence it necessarily follows that sciences 
 continue in their own steps, and never stir from their ground. 
 This has been done for many ages, so that what is positive 
 is fixed, and that which is question is kept question, and 
 remains wholly in the same state. And, therefore, he saw 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 19 
 
 plainly, that columns against proceeding further are firmly 
 and, as it were, fatally pitched ; and that it is no marvel, 
 that that is not obtained, for which men feel neither hope 
 nor desire. 
 
 He thought also, that what is said of men’s despondency 
 or self-conceit, as far as concern's most of the pursuers of 
 science, is too deeply fetched, for far the greater part is 
 otherwise occupied. They seek knowledge either for de¬ 
 light and satisfaction, or for profit and professional emolu¬ 
 ment, or for support and ornament of the reputation: and 
 if these are proposed as the ends of sciences, so far will 
 men be from wishing that the mass of knowledge receive 
 an increase, that, in that stock which is at hand, they will 
 seek no more than what they can turn to use in the matter 
 before them. And if any one among so many seeks know¬ 
 ledge with an honest zeal and for its own sake, yet he will 
 be found to hunt rather after variety than truth. And if 
 he be a severer inquisitor of truth, yet that very truth will 
 be such as will rather explain more subtly things already 
 uttered, than kindle any new light. And if his heart is so 
 large, that he propounds to himself further discovery, he 
 will doubtless be most taken with that light which dis¬ 
 plays in the distance specious contemplations, not that 
 which shows important works and inventions close at hand. 
 So he saw plainly that we return to this point, that it is by 
 no means wonderful that the course is not finished, when 
 men turn aside to these lesser matters: and much more 
 when, as far as he can see, the mark itself has never been 
 set up and fixed for any man. But the mark is no other, 
 than that mankind be continually enriched with new works 
 and powers. 
 
 He thought also, that among these difficulties of the 
 sciences, the case of natural philosophy has been the 
 hardest of all: inasmuch as it has had but a trifling share 
 of men’s labour, has been readily deserted, and never cul¬ 
 tivated and matured in any high degree. For since the 
 Christian faith has grown up and been received, the 
 greatest number of wits have been employed upon divinity, 
 and in this subject the highest rewards have been offered 
 to men’s studies, and aids of every kind most plentifully 
 supplied. And before-time, likewise, the greatest part of 
 the labours of philosophers was consumed in moral philo¬ 
 sophy, which was almost in the place of divinity to the 
 heathens. And in both times a great part of the best wits 
 betook themselves to public business, especially in the time 
 
20 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 of the greatness of the Romans, who by reason of their 
 large empire needed the service of the most. But the time 
 among the Grecians, in which natural‘philosophy seemed 
 most to flourish, was but a short space, and that also 
 abused and thrown away in disputing, and affecting new 
 opinions. But from that time to this, no one can be 
 named, who has made it his business to cultivate natural 
 philosophy, and consumed his life in its pursuit; so that 
 this science has not for ages possessed any whole man, 
 unless perchance one may instance some monk studying in 
 a cloister, or some gentleman in the country, and that will 
 be found very rare. But it has become a kind of passage 
 and bridge to other arts, and this venerable mother of the 
 sciences is turned into their handmaid, and made to serve 
 physic and practical mathematics, or to season a little, 
 young and unripe wits, like a kind of priming, that they 
 may take a second wash in a kindlier and better manner. 
 So he saw plainly, that, from the small number, and hurry, 
 and rawness of its followers, natural philosophy is left 
 destitute. And soon after, he saw also that this had a 
 very great influence on the general state of knowledge: 
 for all the arts and sciences, when torn up from this root, 
 may perhaps be polished and moulded to use, but will 
 grow no further. 
 
 He thought also, how prejudicial and every way hard an 
 adversary natural philosophy has in superstition and the 
 immoderate and blind zeal of religion. For he found that 
 some of the Grecians who first propounded the natural 
 causes of thunder and storm, to men unused to such specu¬ 
 lations, were condemned, on that ground, for impiety: and 
 that the cosmographers, who, by most certain proofs, which 
 no man in his senses would now dispute, asserted the 
 spherical figure of the earth, and consequently the exist¬ 
 ence of Antipodes; were not much better treated, but in¬ 
 cluded in the same sentence, not indeed affecting life, but 
 character, on the accusation of some of the ancient fathers 
 of the Christian church. And the case of natural history 
 is now much worse, in regard of the boldness of the school¬ 
 men and their dependencies, who having, as far as they 
 can, reduced divinity into method, and given it the form of 
 an art; have attempted moreover to incorporate the con¬ 
 tentions and turbulent philosophy of Aristotle into the body 
 of their religion. And it has the same tendency that, in 
 our time, no opinions or arguments are found to have more 
 success, than those which celebrate with great pomp and 
 
» 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 21 
 
 solemnity the union, as if it were a lawful one, between di¬ 
 vinity and philosophy, that is faith and sense; and while 
 they tickle men’s minds with an agreeable variety, are 
 meantime making an unhallowed conjunction of divine and 
 human matters. And, truly, if one observes carefully, as 
 great danger threatens natural philosophy from this kind 
 of hollow and ill assorted league, as from avowed hostility. 
 For, in a treaty and confederation of this nature, only the 
 received maxims of philosophy are included; but every 
 thing of advancement or improvement is most rigorously 
 and obstinately shut out. In fine, with respect to augmenta¬ 
 tions, and what may be called the new shores and tracts of 
 philosophy, all from the side of religion is full of grovelling 
 suspicion, and impotent disdain. Thus some in their sim¬ 
 plicity fear that any deeper inquisition into nature may 
 penetrate perchance beyond the allowed and sanctioned 
 limit of sobriety, improperly applying what is said of the 
 secrets of God, many of which remain closed under the 
 divine signet, to the secrets of nature which are guarded by 
 no interdict. Others, with greater cunning, conceive that 
 if men are ignorant of second causes, each particular may 
 be more easily referred to the wand of the deity, which they 
 think is of the highest interest to religion; though this is 
 no other than seeking to flatter God with a lie. Others 
 tremble for the precedent, lest the shifting and changes of 
 philosophy end with attacking religion. Others, lastly, 
 seem in fear that, in the inquisition of nature, something- 
 may be found to shake religion. Both which opinions savour 
 of a sort of incredulity and worldly policy, but the last 
 cannot even be brought into doubt or question without im¬ 
 piety! From which it was sufficiently clear, that in opinions 
 of this kind there is much weakness, and not a little envy 
 and bitterness. For natural philosophy is, next to the di¬ 
 vine word, the most certain remedy of superstition, and the 
 most wholesome food of faith ; and is, therefore, rightly 
 considered the truest and loveliest handmaid of religion; 
 the one displaying the will of God, the other his power. 
 So that he was not wrong who said : “ Ye do err, not 
 knowing the Scriptures, nor the power of God,” joining in 
 an intimate union, information of his will, and meditation 
 on his power. But, though this is most certain, it still re¬ 
 mains among the most effectual hindrances to natural 
 philosophy, that all which is pronounced by blind zeal and 
 superstition is considered out of the reach of dispute. 
 
 He thought also, that, in the orders and customs of 
 
22 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 schools, colleges, and such conventual bodies, all is found 
 to be adverse to the further progress of the sciences. For 
 much the greater part are professors, and in the receipt of 
 emoluments. And the lectures and exercises are so arranged 
 that nothing out of the common routine can easily arise in 
 any one’s mind. But if a man chance to use the liberty of 
 inquiry and judgment, he will soon find himself left in a great 
 solitude. And if ever he can bear this, he will yet find 
 that, in achieving his fortune, this industry and magnani¬ 
 mity will be much hindrance to him. For in places of this 
 kind men’s studies are almost confined to the writings of 
 certain authors; from which, if any one disagrees, or pro¬ 
 pounds matter of argument, he is immediately set down as 
 a turbulent person and an innovator. Though, if one judge 
 fairly, there is a great difference between the govern¬ 
 ment of civil affairs and the arts; for the danger is not 
 alike of new light, and of new notion. It is true that in 
 civil affairs change, though for the better, is suspected from 
 fear of disorder ; since governments rest on authority, con¬ 
 sent, credit, opinion, not on demonstration and truth in ab¬ 
 stract. But in the arts and sciences, as in mines, all sides 
 should resound with new works and further progress. And 
 it is so in right reason. But in real life, he saw that the 
 government and administration of the knowledge, which 
 is in use, presses cruelly, and checks the increase and growth 
 of science. 
 
 He thought also, that, even in the opinion and common 
 feeling of men, much appears on all sides that denies a fair 
 opening to the increase of knowledge. For most men, un¬ 
 just to the present times, hang upon antiquity, and believe 
 that if we, who now live had had the office of first attempt¬ 
 ing what was sought for and discovered by the ancients, 
 we should not have come up to their works by a great 
 space. And in like manner they believe that if a man even 
 now, relying upon his own powers, attempt to begin anew 
 an inquisition, the end will be, that he will either come to 
 the very conclusion that was approved of by antiquity; 
 or else to some one, which, having been long ago decided 
 upon and rejected by antiquity, deservedly fell into oblivion. 
 Others, altogether slighting the powers of human nature 
 at both periods, ancient and modern, fall into a fanciful and 
 superstitious belief that the elements of the sciences ema¬ 
 nated from spiritual beings, and that new inventions in the 
 same manner may receive assistance from their authority 
 and concurrence. Others of more sober and chastened 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 23 
 
 imagination, but greater diffidence, openly despair of any 
 increase of knowledge, from reflecting on the obscurity of 
 nature, the shortness of life, the uncertainty of the senses, 
 the weakness of the judgment, and the difficulties and un¬ 
 bounded variety of experiments. So that such swelling 
 hopes, as promise more than we now have, are the offspring 
 of a weak and unripened mind, and will no doubt have 
 their beginning in exultation, their middle course in diffi¬ 
 culty, and their end in confusion; and there is as little 
 hope of the reward as of the accomplishment; for know¬ 
 ledges evidently breed and expand in great and excellent 
 wits, but the estimation and price of them is in the multi¬ 
 tude, or in the inclinations of princes and great persons 
 meanly learned. So that the projection of sciences and the 
 judgment upon them are not in the same; whence it comes 
 that those inventions only succeed which are accommo¬ 
 dated to popular reason and common sense; as happened 
 in the case of Democritus’ theory of atoms, which being a 
 little too remote was treated with ridicule. Hence sublime 
 views of nature, which, almost like religion, must'enter the 
 senses of men with difficulty, may be now and then con¬ 
 ceived, but (unless proved and recommended by evident 
 and exceeding utility, which hitherto has not been the case) 
 are generally in a short time blown and extinguished by 
 the winds of common opinions; so that time, like a river, 
 is wont to bring down to us what is light and blown up, 
 while it sinks and drowns that which is solid and grave. 
 So he saw well that the hindrances of an improved state 
 of the sciences were, not only external and adventitious, 
 but innate also and drawn from our very senses. 
 
 Moreover, he thought that the vagueness and irregular 
 form of words mocks the understanding and, as it were, 
 attacks it; for words are like coins which represent the 
 image and authority of the people; for they always com¬ 
 pound and classify according to popular notions and ac¬ 
 ceptation which are for the most part erroneous and very 
 confused ; so that even infants in learning to speak, are 
 compelled to suck in and swallow a pernicious system of 
 error. And though the wise and learned endeavour by 
 various contrivances to deliver themselves from this bon¬ 
 dage, by making new words which is harsh, and by insert¬ 
 ing definitions which is troublesome, they cannot, with all 
 their strength, throw off the yoke; so that innumerable con¬ 
 troversies, even in the most acute discussions, are raised 
 about words, and, what is much worse, that depraved 
 
24 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 coinage of words reflects its rays and impressions into the 
 mind itself, and is thus not only a hindrance in discourse, 
 but injurious also to the judgment and understanding. So 
 he saw well, that, among the internal causes of error, he 
 must place this as one serious and pernicious import. 
 
 He thought also that, beside the usual difficulties of the 
 sciences and knowledge, natural philosophy, particularly 
 the active and operative, had its peculiar drawbacks and 
 impediments. For it has been notably hurt and discre¬ 
 dited by some of its professors, light and vain men, who, 
 partly from credulity, partly from craft, have loaded the 
 human race with promises, offering prolongation of life, 
 delay of infirmity, relief from pain, supply of natural de¬ 
 fects, deceptions of the senses, the binding or inciting of 
 the affections, illuminations of the mental powers, ecsta- 
 cies, transmuting of substances, unlimited multiplication 
 of motions, impressions on the air and changes of it, 
 divination of future events, representations of distant oc- 
 currences^, revelation of mysteries, and many other things. 
 Now, in considering these liberal givers, we shall not be 
 far wrong if we pass a judgment like this: that there is 
 as much difference in philosophy, between their triflings 
 and the true* arts, as there is in history between the 
 wars of Julius Ceesar or Alexander, and those of Amadis 
 de Gaul or Arthur of Britain. For it is evident that 
 those renowned generals achieved more in reality than 
 the other shadowy heroes are pretended to have done, but 
 by means and ways of action not at all fabulous or super¬ 
 natural. So that it is not just to deny credit to true his¬ 
 tory, because it is sometimes wounded and injured by 
 fabulous stories. For Ixion of a cloud begat the Centaurs, 
 yet still, of the real Juno, Jove begat Hebe and Vulcan, that 
 is the lovely and divine virtues of nature and art. But 
 though this is true, and it shows great ignorance to be 
 incredulous without distinction; yet he saw well that the 
 access to truth was formerly shut up, or at least narrowed 
 by fables of this kind, and that the ignominy of vanity 
 even now abates all greatness of mind. 
 
 He thought also that there is found in the mind of man 
 a certain affection, naturally bred and fortified by some 
 men’s opinion and doctrine, which has checked and pre¬ 
 vented the true proceeding of natural philosophy, that is 
 the active and operative kind. This is a rotten and perni¬ 
 cious idea or estimation, that the majesty of man’s mind 
 suffers diminution if it be long and deeply conversant with 
 experiences and particulars subject to sense, and bound in 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 25 
 
 matter: especially as such things usually appear laborious 
 to search, ignoble to meditate, harsh to deliver, illiberal to 
 practise, infinite in number, and contemptible in their mi¬ 
 nuteness ; and, though such qualities as these no ways 
 accommodate to the glory of the arts. And this opinion or 
 state of mind received much strength from another wild and 
 unfounded opinion, which held that truth is innate in the 
 mind of man, and not introduced from without, and that 
 the senses rather excite than inform the understanding. 
 Neither has this error, and (to describe it truly) delusion 
 of mind, been any ways corrected by those who have given 
 to sense the due, that is, the first place. Nay more, even 
 these by their example and practice, deserting altogether 
 natural history and actual experience, rested only upon 
 agitation of wit, and grovelled without ceasing among the 
 darkest idols of the understanding, under the specious name 
 of contemplation and reason. So he saw well that this 
 rejection and divorce of particulars has thrown the human 
 family into total disorder. 
 
 He thought also, that we should not make our conjecture 
 from the hindrances we meet with; only, since it is possible 
 that the fortune of mankind may overcome these difficul¬ 
 ties and burst the barriers. Hence we must consider and 
 examine closely the nature of that philosophy which is 
 received, and whatever other, from ancient times, has been 
 cast upon our shores, like the spars of a sunken vessel. 
 And he found that the natural philosophy which we have 
 from the Greeks is to be accounted a kind of childhood of 
 science; and that its properties are those which belong to 
 boys, that is, it is forward to chatter, but immature and un¬ 
 qualified for generation. 
 
 Aristotle, by common consent the chief of that philo¬ 
 sophy, without ever meddling with the observation of 
 nature, has been unprofitably employed on stale opinions, 
 and on their comparison, opposition, and reduction. Nor 
 is it reasonable to hope for any thing solid from one 
 who has made up the world itself of categories. For 
 it is of little concern whether we lay down that matter, 
 form and privation, or substance, quality, and relation, are 
 the real principles: but we had best pass by those contro¬ 
 versies ; for it would be inconsistent to set about a formal 
 confutation, when we neither agree about the principles, 
 nor the modes of demonstration • and again, to lash with 
 ridicule one who has obtained an authority almost dictato¬ 
 rial in philosophy, would have more levity than suits the 
 dignity of the subject, and be moreover arrogant. He has 
 
26 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 certainly corrupted natural philosophy with logical subtle¬ 
 ties, which were his own creation, as he himself too loudly 
 boasts. 
 
 But to leave him, Plato was, without doubt, a man of 
 loftier genius, and one who aimed also at the knowledge 
 of forms, and used induction universally, not for princi¬ 
 ples only; but with reasoning futile on both sides, since 
 he pursued and accepted vague inductions and abstract 
 forms. And if we consider with attention the writings and 
 habits of this philosopher, we shall find that he took no 
 great interest in natural philosophy, at least so far only as 
 to vindicate his own name and character as a philosopher, 
 or give by its intermixture a certain majesty to his moral 
 and political doctrines. And he adulterated nature as much 
 with theology, as Aristotle with logic; and, to say the 
 truth, approached as near to the province of the poet as the 
 other to that of the sophist. Now we can draw the doc¬ 
 trines of these two from the very fountain head, their works 
 having survived. 
 
 There is a different estimate to be made of the rest, 
 namely, Pythagoras, Empedocles, Heraclitus, Anaxagoras, 
 Democritus, Parmenis, Zenophanes, and others; because 
 we have received their opinions by means of intermediate 
 writers only, and by tradition, and scattered fragments ; 
 so that we must use closer inquisition, with greater scruple 
 of judgment, to make up for the disadvantage of their 
 circumstances. But yet he has been most ddigent and 
 watchful to catch every whisper about these opinions, so 
 as to extract whatever can be found referring to them, 
 where they are confuted by Aristotle, or cited by Plato 
 or Cicero; or in Plutarch's budget, or Laertius' lives, or 
 Lucretius’ poem; or any other scattered hint or mention : 
 and he has examined them with impartiality and careful 
 judgment. And, first, there is no doubt that, if their 
 opinions were in their own works, they would have greater 
 weight; for the strength of theories lies in a nice and 
 mutual harmony of the parts, and a certain unbroken 
 demonstration; and they are therefore weakened when 
 uttered in fragments : wherefore he did not make his judg¬ 
 ment of them lightly. 
 
 He found also, among so many opinions, a number of 
 remarks made with some care with regard to the obser¬ 
 vation of nature, and the assigning of causes: and, as 
 commonly happens, some have been more successful than 
 others in different branches. The discoveries and opi¬ 
 nions of Pythagoras alone (though his doctrine of num- 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 27 
 
 bers imply something physical) are mostly of that kind, 
 which lead rather to the founding of some religious order, 
 than to the opening of a school in philosophy; which 
 the event proved: for this philosophy had more weight 
 in the heresy of the Manichseans, and the superstition 
 of Mahomet, than among men of science. The rest how¬ 
 ever were certainly natural philosophers; and there are 
 some of them who have dived into nature much deeper 
 and more acutely than Aristotle. But he busied himself, 
 like the Ottomans, in destroying his brothers; and suc¬ 
 ceeded in it to his wish. Now he had the same opinion of 
 Aristotle as of the other Greek philosophers, namely, that 
 such systems and theories were, like the different .argu¬ 
 ments of dramatic pieces, moulded into a certain keeping 
 with nature, some with more nicety, others more negligently 
 and roughly ; and that, as belongs to fiction, they appeared 
 more trim and symmetrical than real accounts. Nor could 
 the wanderings and searchings of the human mind rest or 
 limit themselves in those theories which were uttered and 
 published. For, had not the customs and affections of 
 men, and the pursuits of business, been adverse and blight¬ 
 ing to novelties of this kind, even in matters of contempla¬ 
 tion, many other sects would doubtless have been formed 
 in natural philosophy. For, as it is in astronomy with 
 those who decide that the earth moves in a circle, and those 
 who explain it by elliptical and epicyclic motion, that their 
 systems to account for appearances in the heavens, are 
 alike pleadings for a side, and amount not to conviction, 
 nay, even the calculations of the tables answer with each : 
 in the same way it would be much easier to devise various 
 theories in natural philosophy, all widely differing with one 
 another, and yet each consistent with itself, and using un¬ 
 fairly the suffrage of popular zeal, which in questions of 
 this kind often guides the judgment, and drawing it over 
 to opposite sides. 
 
 There has indeed been no want of men who in this 
 age and the last have meditated new systems of natural 
 philosophy. For within our recollection Telesio has ap¬ 
 peared on the stage, and exhibited a new plot, not so 
 well rewarded with applause, as the probability of its ar¬ 
 guments merited: and Fracastoro, not long since, though 
 he did not set up a new sect, yet was staunch in using 
 liberty of judgment and inquiry: Cardan too was as bold 
 but less steady. Very lately also, our countryman Gilbert, 
 after most laboriously examining the nature of the magnet 
 with great sagacity and perseverance, and with a host and 
 
28 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 almost a multitude of experiments, began forthwith to de¬ 
 sign a new school in natural philosophy; and was not ter¬ 
 rified by the ridiculed name of Zenophanes, whose opinion 
 he inclined to. These then, and all who are or shall be 
 like them, must be ranked in the band of ancients, for there 
 is the same character in them all: thus they were men who 
 gave their opinions on few matters, and trifled with nature 
 without making such a close union with her as to beget 
 either certainty of contemplation or useful works. 
 
 It is a truth that out of so many schools of philosophy, 
 laboriously cultivated through such a length of years, not 
 one experiment can be cited, which has a view to the im¬ 
 provement or aggrandizement of the state of man, and can 
 be pointed to with truth as the gifts of such speculations. 
 On the contrary, indeed, Aristotle’s device of the four ele¬ 
 ments, which he rather gave currency to than invented 
 (and which being greedily caught up by physicians, drew 
 after it the systems of the four complexions, the four hu¬ 
 mours, and the four primary qualities), like some malig¬ 
 nant and unlucky star, caused extraordinary barrenness in 
 medicine, besides many mechanical arts; men all the while 
 allowing themselves to be satisfied with conceits and me¬ 
 thodized nothings of this kind, and carry no further. Mean¬ 
 time a multitude of questions and controversies clamoured 
 and fluttered on all sides round these philosophies, so that 
 they seem represented to the life in the fable of Scylla, who 
 had the upper part and countenance of a virgin, while her 
 womb was girt and crowded with barking monsters. In like 
 manner have those doctrines something specious at first sight, 
 but when we approach the generative part, to produce fruits, 
 nothing is to be found but strife and restless disputing, 
 which are in the room of bearing. 
 
 At the same time it must be remembered, that the reasons 
 for rejecting these systems assail the opinions only, not the 
 understandings or industry of their authors. For, in pro¬ 
 portion to a man’s wit and zeal, does he, if he desert the 
 light and observation of nature and the evidence of parti¬ 
 culars, plunge himself and become involved in the darkest 
 and most intricate recesses, and, as it were, dens of phan¬ 
 tasies and idols. Again, the general plans of the philoso¬ 
 phies are not attached with the purpose of approving the 
 detailed application of minor causes, which are commonly 
 given and inquired into in the works of philosophers of 
 this kind: on the contrary, these are no better than the 
 other, not only because they depend upon them, but also 
 because they display no severity of inquisition, and lead us 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 29 
 
 to matters not unknown, but almost at our feet, in which 
 the mind acquiesces lightly, and is satisfied, but by no 
 means penetrating into the interior of nature. And they 
 have always this fault, which is alike in all, that they con¬ 
 nect together experiments and known effects in a kind of 
 system, and, as it were, with a net, made to the just 
 measure of what'is known; but never exhibit any cause 
 or canon, which may mark out new and formerly unknown 
 effects and experiments. 
 
 Having thus traversed these outskirts of philosophy, cast¬ 
 ing his eyes on every side, he turned them to the depths of 
 antiquity, as to a kind of clouded and dim region. And he 
 saw that if he chose to deal unfairly, there would be no 
 difficulty in persuading men, that with the ancient sages, 
 long before the Grecian times, natural science flourished 
 with greater vigour, but perhaps in greater silence: and 
 that it were, therefore, more dignified to refer to them those 
 discoveries which are now made: as new men are used to 
 dp, who connect with themselves the nobility of some an¬ 
 cient stem by the rumours of genealogy and conjecture. 
 But, relying on the evidence of facts, he rejected every 
 form of imposture; and, whatever might be his opinion 
 about those times, thought that it had no more relation 
 to the matter in hand whether our discoveries were known 
 to the ancients, and in the revolution of things have sunk 
 and risen again; than it should be any concern, whether 
 the New World be that island Atlantis, and so known to 
 the ancients, or was first discovered by us. For inventions 
 are to be sought in the light of nature, not traced in the 
 shades of antiquity. Meanwhile some may remark that 
 he has passed over the art or philosophy of chymistry; 
 which he has done from respect, being unwilling to class it 
 with those philosophies which are entirely barren of works, 
 since it has displayed and given many noble discoveries. 
 Indeed this art accords with the fable of the old man, who 
 bequeathed his sons a treasure buried in his vineyard with¬ 
 out showing them where, whereby they set themselves with 
 diligence to dig the vineyard, and did not find the treasure, 
 but, by their husbandry, the vintage was made more abun¬ 
 dant. In like mannrn* the sons of chymistry, while they 
 are busy seeking the hidden gold, whether real or not, have 
 by turning over and trying, brought much profit and con¬ 
 venience to mankind. Yet their inventions issued in no 
 other or better way than the birth and advancement of me¬ 
 chanical arts, that is by mere experience. For their philo¬ 
 sophy and speculation are unsound, and harsher than those 
 
30 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 fabulous philosophies of which we have been speaking. 
 For though the three principles was no useless discovery, 
 but partly bordering on fact: yet, for the most part, prac¬ 
 tised in a few experiments of distillation, they referred every 
 thing in philosophy to separation and liberation, unmindful 
 of true alteration. But the structure of that opinion, on 
 which as a foundation their philosophy rests, that there are 
 four matrices or elements in which the seeds and forms of 
 matter complete their fruits, and that these are quadriform 
 according to the different elements, so that nothing is found 
 in sky, air, water, or earth, which has not in the three re¬ 
 maining ones something parallel and corresponding: this 
 fantastic arrangement of matter will certainly scarce have a 
 place in the dreams of the skilful observer of nature. Not 
 unlike this are the harmonies of things believed in by the 
 followers of natural magic, who explain every thing by 
 sympathy and antipathy, and, by the most idle and un¬ 
 founded conjectures, affix to things miraculous virtues and 
 powers. Yet he treats them gently, because among so 
 many fables -they have yet produced some works, though 
 commonly of that kind which are rather novel and sur¬ 
 prising than fit for profit and utility. But even novelty has 
 often the advantage of agitating somewhat the intricate 
 folds of nature, and assisting with light at least, if not with 
 deed. So he saw that, neither in the opinions of the 
 Greeks or the moderns, nor in the traditions of alchymy or 
 natural magic, could any thing be found leading to the in¬ 
 crease of human means. Wherefore all these should either 
 be thrown into oblivion, or given up to the pursuit of the 
 multitude, while the true sons of knowledge turn their 
 course elsewhere. 
 
 He thought also that the modes of demonstration should 
 be reviewed ; for demonstrations, by a certain influence are 
 philosophy; and, in proportion as they are just or faulty, 
 complete or imperfect, doctrines will probably ensue from 
 them. But he found that the demonstrations which are in 
 use are neither full nor certain. Yet we should not blame 
 the senses, as some have done. For the errors of the senses 
 in particulars have no great effect on the sum of the sciences; 
 not more at least than may be corrected by the rightly in¬ 
 formed mind. But that the mind itself, if it rely on nature 
 without art and discipline, is unequal to the matter and 
 below it, may be pronounced boldly. For it is neither so 
 capacious as to admit and arrange the infinite variety of 
 particulars necessary for information, nor so free and un- 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 31 
 
 biassed as to receive true and natural impressions without 
 some warp and colouring. Nay, it is very certain both 
 that the human mind is generally like an uneven mirror, 
 which receives and reflects the rays of objects according to 
 the angle of each facet, and not on a plain surface; and also 
 that every one, from his education, pursuits, and constitu¬ 
 tion, is haunted with a kind of misleading power, and, as it 
 were, familiar spirit, which mocks and disturbs the mind 
 with various and fantastic devices. Yet we must not, 
 therefore, fall into the opinion of incapability. For it is 
 evident, that by no steadiness of hand or skill of eye, how¬ 
 ever exquisite, could an exact straight line or circle be 
 described; yet, on applying a ruler or turning the com¬ 
 passes, the matter is easy. Again, in mechanical crafts the 
 naked hand of man can work but little, yet with the aid and 
 means of instruments it conquers alike the vastest and most 
 minute. It follows then that we must fly to art, and must 
 look to demonstration, which is governed by art. And sen¬ 
 tence may be given in a few words on the syllogism which 
 is Aristotle’s oracle. It is, doubtless, a useful instrument 
 and aid to the understanding in sciences, which are founded 
 in human opinion, as the moral and political; but inferior and 
 incompetent to the subtlety and obscurity of natural processes. 
 For the syllogism certainly consists of propositions and the 
 proposition of words, and words are the evidences and signs 
 of ideas or conceptions of the mind. So that if the ideas 
 themselves, which are the souls of words, are vague, incom¬ 
 plete, and not sufficiently defined (which is for the most 
 part the case in nature), the whole sinks. Induction remains 
 the last and only refuge and aid for matter; nor are our 
 hopes placed in it undeservedly, since it can collect labo¬ 
 rious works, and the certain evidence of facts, and lay them 
 before the mind. But its name only is known, its power 
 and use has hitherto lain hid. For induction must be 
 judged of thus; in its use and form men have erred doubly. 
 First, that impatient of delay and searching round for short 
 cuts, and hastening to fix some things as certain, round 
 which as poles discussions might turn, they have only ap¬ 
 plied it to the general principles of sciences, lightly hoping 
 to work all within by syllogistic deduction. Secondly, that 
 having examined the syllogism accurately, but this demon¬ 
 stration hastily and carelessly, they have devised its form 
 very simple and indeed puerile, to proceed by enumeration 
 alone, and thus conclude precariously, not necessarily. No 
 one, therefore, can wonder if he, with this opinion on de- 
 
32 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 monstratioris, does not agree on natural philosophy with 
 others, either ancient or modern. For it cannot be (to 
 speak jestingly), that the drinkers of water and wine should 
 feel alike. For they swallow a raw fluid, either flowing 
 spontaneously from the mind or pumped up with some 
 labour; but he drinks a liquor prepared from innumerable 
 grapes mature and in season, plucked and heaped up in 
 bunches, afterwards squeezed in the winepress, purified in 
 the vat, and clarified ; which will bear time, and at the 
 same time is corrected of all intoxicating quality, by neither 
 giving nor leaving any room for the vapours of the fancy. 
 So he saw that the philosophies of which we have spoken 
 should be rejected, not only for their barrenness of works, 
 but for the weakness and fallaciousness of their demonstra¬ 
 tions also, since they are not only removed from nature, but 
 deserted and betrayed by the very auxiliaries they have 
 raised. 
 
 He thought also, that we should make a separate review 
 of the modes of invention in use, if there be any. But in 
 this quarter not so much misleading and devious paths, as 
 solitude and vacancy, are found, which strike the mind 
 with a kind of stupor. It has not been the object or desire 
 of any man to guide the force of human wit and under¬ 
 standing to the invention and improvement of arts and 
 sciences, and hew a road thither; but the whole has been 
 and is left to the dimness of tradition, the steps and fury 
 of arguments, or the waves and turnings of chance and 
 experiment. Hence, it was not without reason, that, in 
 the temples of the Egyptians, who (as was the custom of 
 antiquity) used to deify inventors, so many images of 
 brutes were found; since animals without the light of 
 reason have been, almost as much as men, the discoverers 
 of nature’s operations, nor have men in this matter made 
 much use of their prerogative. We must however examine 
 what is done. And first of the simple and untaught mode 
 of invention which is common with men, it is no other than 
 that he who girds and prepares himself for an invention, 
 first inquires and learns what others have said on the 
 subject, then adds his own reflection. But for a man to 
 commit himself to the guidance of others, or to intreat and 
 almost invoke his own spirit to give him oracles, is a pro¬ 
 ceeding without ground. Next follows the invention in 
 use with logicians, which has only a nominal connexion 
 with the matter in hand. For it is not of principles and 
 axioms, of which arts consist, but only of what seems 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 33 
 
 agreeable to them. For logic, with a well known response, 
 drives the curious and importunate, and lovers of business 
 to yield their faith, and as it were allegiance to some art. 
 There remains simple experience which, if unforeseen, is 
 called chance, if sought, experiment. And this is no more 
 than, as they say, the faggot unbound. Nay more, they 
 who are assiduously employed in opening and bringing to 
 light some nature or work, by a long and desultory course 
 of experiments, are either fixed in amazement, or run round 
 in giddiness, sometimes eager, at others confused; and 
 always find matter for further inquiry. Nor can it well be 
 otherwise. For it is an aimless and very foolish specula¬ 
 tion, to search for the nature of a thing in itself: for the 
 same nature is hidden in some, in others open, and as it 
 were palpable; and causes admiration in the latter, in the 
 former not even attention. Thus that quality of bodies 
 which resists separation, seems a very subtle thing, and 
 ingenious in bubbles of water, which for this purpose throw 
 themselves into thin films in the form of a hemisphere. 
 The same quality is little marked in stone or wood, but 
 goes under the name of solid. Wherefore he saw that a 
 certain ill fortune rather than ignorance is to be imputed to 
 men, since they have been drawn from the appointed path 
 by mischance or temptations, but, within its bounds, have 
 not shown themselves wanting in energy. 
 
 He thought also, that some limit must be set to despon¬ 
 dency, or at least to complaint: and that it must rather 
 be considered whether we are to stop altogether, and use 
 what we have already; or to make trial and devise some¬ 
 thing by which the matter may proceed better. And first, 
 it is right to mark the excellency and value of the end and 
 purpose, that in a dry matter and difficult attempt there 
 may be a greater supply of industry. And he remembered 
 that in ancient times, the affection and zeal of men exceed¬ 
 ing moderation, divine honours were paid to inventors. 
 But those who had deserved well in civil affairs, as the 
 founders of cities and empires, legislators, deliverers of 
 their countries from long standing evils, dethroners of 
 tyrants, and the like, reached not beyond the rank of 
 heroes. Nor has this distinction in old time been made 
 without reason, seeing that the gifts of the former fell upon 
 the whole human race, those of the latter upon limited dis¬ 
 tricts and patches of society : the former too pour bless¬ 
 ings on human life without violence or uproar, while the 
 latter are not commonly introduced but with struggle and 
 
 VOL. xv. D 
 
34 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 tumult. Now if the utility of any single invention so 
 moved men, that they accounted more than man him who 
 could include the whole human race in some solitary bene¬ 
 fit, that invention is certainly much more exalted, which 
 by a kind of mastery contains within itself all particular 
 inventions, and delivers the mind from bondage, and opens 
 it a road, that under sure and unerring guidance it may 
 penetrate to whatever can be of novelty and further ad- * 
 vancement. For as in the early ages, when sailors steered 
 their course only by observations of the heavenly bodies, 
 they coasted along the shores*of the'old continent, or ven¬ 
 tured across some small internal seas : but it was necessary 
 that the use of the compass should be known, as a more 
 certain guide of the passage, before the ocean could be 
 crossed and the tracts of the new world discovered: in 
 like manner, all that has been hitherto invented in human 
 arts and sciences might have been found out by instinct, 
 experience, observation, meditation, being more obvious 
 to sense: but before we may stretch across to the more 
 distant and secret regions of nature, it is a necessary pro¬ 
 vision, that some better and more perfect application and 
 management of the human mind be found out. Wherefore 
 such an invention as this would be, without doubt, a most 
 noble and truly masculine offspring of time. 
 
 Again in the Holy Scripture he saw that Solomon the king, 
 while in the pride of his power, his riches, his magnificent 
 works, his guards, his household, his exact distribution and 
 arrangement of slaves and domestics, his fleet moreover, the 
 renown of his name, and the greatest honour from men: 
 thought none of these his true glory, but said, that “ the 
 glory of ‘ God is to conceal a thing, but the glory of the 
 king is to find it out,” as if the divine nature took delight 
 in the innocent and playful sport of children, who hide 
 themselves that they may be found out; and from his 
 indulgence and graciousness to men, chose the human soul 
 his playfellow. And the glory of inventions is that they 
 raise human nature, without hurting any one (as civil 
 affairs commonly do), and do not press or sting a man’s 
 conscience, but bestow on all rewards and blessings with¬ 
 out the sacrifice, or injury, or sorrow of one. For the 
 nature of light is pure and harmless, it may be perverted in 
 its use, but not polluted in itself. 
 
 Again, taking note of the purposes and ambitions of men, 
 he observed three kinds of ambition, if it be allowed to give 
 that name to one of them : the first is of those who struggle 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 fiercely to increase their sway in their own country; and 
 this is common and mean. The second of those who strive 
 to extend the sway of their country over other nations; 
 which has doubtless more dignity, but not less selfishness. 
 The third is of those who essay to create and extend the 
 sway and empire of man himself or the human race over 
 the universe of matter; which is clearly wiser and nobler 
 than the others. Now the empire of man consists in know¬ 
 ledge alone, for his power is what he knows, nor can any 
 force burst the chain of natural causes; for nature is only 
 to be conquered by obeying. 
 
 He thought also and inquired what account should be 
 made of the value and efficacy of inventions, whether simple 
 and unmixed, or joined with their favours and benefits. And 
 in no case is this consideration more plainly suggested, than 
 in those three inventions, which were unknown to the an¬ 
 cients, and whose birth among us was obscure and noise¬ 
 less; printing, gunpowder, and the compass. For these three, 
 though a small number, and not remote in invention, have 
 changed the face of things, and the condition of the world : 
 the first in literature, the second in war, the third in naviga¬ 
 tion : and hence have flowed infinite mutations in the state 
 of things, apparent to careful observers; so that no em¬ 
 pire, sect, or star, seems to have had a stronger influence, 
 and, as it were, ascendant over human affairs than those 
 mechanical works. As to their worth, it may be best 
 descried if any one will reflect what a gulf there is between 
 man’s life in the most polished country of Europe, and the 
 rudest and most savage region of the New Indies: so 
 great, that man may fairly be said to be a god to man, not 
 only by reason of assistance and benefit, but from com¬ 
 paring their conditions. And this is not the effect of soil, 
 or climate, or constitution, but of arts. But the new world 
 of science and the new world of geography do not agree in 
 the old being more refined than the new: on the contrary 
 it is certain that the additions to arts must show them¬ 
 selves greatly superior to those we have, so as not only to 
 bend nature gently, but to conquer and enslave it, and 
 shake it to its foundation: for it almost always happens 
 that what is easy of discovery is infirm of work; since the 
 roots of things of potent virtue are covered deeply. But if 
 to any one given to the love and worship of contemplation, 
 this frequent and honourable mention of works sounds 
 somewhat harsh and offensive, let him be assured that he 
 thwarts his natural wishes; for in nature works are not 
 
36 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 only benefits to life, but pledges of truth. And, as it is 
 most justly required in religion that a man should show 
 his faith by works, it is right also in natural philosophy 
 that knowledge should be proved by its works in like 
 manner. For truth is rather shown and proved by the 
 evidence of works than by argument, or even sense. Hence 
 there is one and the same means of improving man’s con¬ 
 dition and his mind. So he saw that what has been said 
 of the dignity of the end we aim at and design, is not 
 strengthened, but really diminished by words. 
 
 He thought also, that what has been said of the excel¬ 
 lence of the end may appear accommodated to his wishes. 
 We must therefore inquire carefully what hope shines on 
 us, and on what side it appears: and we must be on our 
 guard that love of what is excellent and beautiful do not 
 make us lose or relax the rigour of our judgment. For it 
 is meet to bestow on this matter legal caution, which dis¬ 
 trusts on principle, and takes the least favourable view- of 
 human concerns. The lighter whisperings of hope must 
 therefore be rejected, but those which seem to have some 
 stability, discussed. And in taking a view of his pros¬ 
 pects, it occurred to him, first, that what we are treating 
 of, by reason of the eminent nature of good, is manifestly 
 , from God; and that in the works of God the smallest 
 beginnings lead to their end. He had hope also from the 
 nature of time: for truth is by universal consent the 
 daughter of time. It is a mark therefore of utter weak¬ 
 ness and narrowness of mind to attribute infinite effects to 
 authors, but to withhold its due from Time, the author of 
 authors and of all authority. Nor had he hope only in the 
 common right of time, but also in the superiority of our 
 own age. For the opinion of antiquity which men hold is 
 a hasty one, and not even agreeing with the name. For 
 the old age or more advanced period of the world is pro¬ 
 perly to be called antiquity. And in truth, as we expect a 
 greater acquaintance with affairs and more mature judg¬ 
 ment, in an old man than in a youth, by reason of his 
 experience, and his having seen and heard and thought 
 more; it is reasonable that in like manner we should hope 
 from our own age (if it knew its own strength, and would 
 essay and apply it) more than from former times, being a 
 more advanced age of the world, and enriched to fulness 
 with numberless experiments and observations. Nor must 
 we think it little that, in those distant voyages and travels 
 which have been frequent in our time, much has been dis- 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 37 
 
 covered in nature which is capable of shedding new light 
 on philosophy. Nay, it is dishonourable to men, if in our 
 age the regions of the material world, that is, the earth, the 
 ocean, and the heavenly bodies, are discovered and dis¬ 
 played to a vast extent, but the boundaries of the intellec¬ 
 tual world are sfill fixed within the narrow space and 
 knowledge of the ancients. Even the state of Europe at 
 present in a political respect is not averse. England is 
 raised, France at peace, Spain worn out, Italy and Ger¬ 
 many in a state of» inaction : so that from the power of the 
 greatest kings being balanced, and the condition of the 
 first rate nations shaken, affairs lean to peace, which is 
 like clear and mild weather for the sciences. Nor is the 
 present state of letters itself unfavourable ; nay, it enjoys a 
 certain facility both from the art of printing unknown to 
 ancient times, by means of which the inventions and 
 thoughts of individuals glance from side to side like light¬ 
 ning : and also by reason of religious controversies, from 
 weariness of which perchance men have been able to turn 
 their minds more readily to the contemplation of the power, 
 the wisdom, and the goodness of God in his works. But 
 if any one is moved by the consent and continuance en¬ 
 joyed by the opinions of the ancients, he will find if he 
 looks more carefully into the matter very few leaders, and 
 the rest followers only and a crowd; men, that is to say, 
 who have stepped from ignorance into prejudice, and have 
 never met in true consent, which must be after the use 
 of judgment. And on proper reflection, the length of time 
 itself shrinks into a narrow shred. For of the five and 
 twenty centuries with which the memory of man is ac¬ 
 quainted, scarce five can be marked out which have been 
 useful and productive in the increase of knowledge, and 
 even they have been for the most part planted and cul¬ 
 tivated with other knowledges, and not that of nature. 
 For there are reckoned three periods and revolutions of 
 opinions, one with the Greeks, another with the Romans, 
 the last with the western nations of Europe; the remaining 
 time of the world has been taken up with wars and other 
 pursuits, and, as far as regards the growth of knowledge, 
 is a barren wilderness. 
 
 He thought thus then about time. From the power 
 and nature of chance also he augured thus. Chance in¬ 
 deed has been, without doubt, the author of many inven¬ 
 tions, occasion being taken from the nature of things. Did 
 then the Promethens of New India differ from the European 
 
38 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 in the discovery of fire, because the former have no supply of 
 flints ? In those things, therefore, which are at hand chance 
 gives inventions in plenty; in those which are removed from 
 common use, she travails and brings forth more sparingly, 
 but yet in all ages. For no cause can be seen why chance 
 should be thought to have grown old and past the time of 
 bearing. He thought, therefore, that if many discoveries 
 chance to men without seeking, and w T hile otherwise em¬ 
 ployed, no one can doubt that if the same men were to 
 search, and by rule and order, not by fits and starts, many 
 more things must be discovered. For though it may happen 
 in one or two cases that some one may by chance hit upon 
 what has escaped him before when straining all his powers 
 in the inquiry, yet, without doubt, the contrary will appear 
 in the long run. For chance works thinly, and slowly, and 
 irregularly; but art constantly, and rapidly, and con¬ 
 nectedly. From those inventions also, which are already 
 brought to light, he thought it might be truly conjectured 
 about those which are yet hidden. But some of them are of 
 that kind that, before their discovery, surmises of them would 
 not readily come into any one’s mind. For men commonly 
 guess at new things by a likeness to old ones, and by ideas 
 learned of them, which is a very vain way of thinking, since 
 those things that are sought from the fountain-head do not 
 flow through the common channels. Thus, if some one, 
 before the invention of fire-arms, had described them by 
 their effects, and had said that a discovery was just made 
 by means of which walls and the strongest fortifications 
 might be battered and beaten down from a great distance, 
 men would certainly reason much and variously about mul¬ 
 tiplying the powers of casting engines and machinery, by 
 weights, wheels, and the like; but the idea of a fiery wind 
 could scarcely occur, as what they had never seen an in¬ 
 stance of, except perchance in an earthquake or thunder¬ 
 storm which they had neglected as not imitable. In like 
 manner if, before the invention of silken thread, some one 
 had spoken thus: that there was a certain kind of thread 
 useful for dress and furniture, which much excelled linen 
 and woollen thread in fineness and, notwithstanding, strength, 
 and moreover gloss and softness; men would immediately 
 begin to think of some vegetable silk, or the delicate part 
 of some animal’s hair, or the feathers and down of birds, but 
 would never guess the fabric of a worm, and that too in such 
 plenty and every year. And if any one had dropped a hint 
 about worms, he would certainly have been ridiculed for 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 3 ( J 
 
 dreaming of some new works of spiders. And hence, for 
 the most part, those things which are still hidden in the 
 womb of nature have this same property that they escape 
 and elude the imaginations and reasonings of men. So lie 
 thought if it check any one’s hope of new inventions, that, 
 by inference from those before us, he counts them either 
 impossible or unlikely, he should know that he is not 
 competent, even to wish fitly and usefully. 
 
 But again he thought that there are other things among 
 those discovered of a different and almost contrary nature 
 which lead us to think that mankind may pass by and 
 neglect great inventions lying close at their feet. For 
 although the invention of gunpowder, and silk, and the 
 compass, and sugar, and the like, seem to depend upon 
 certain properties of matter and nature; the art of print¬ 
 ing has certainly nothing which was not plain, and almost 
 obvious, and gathered from what was already known. But 
 in this race of invention the human mind is commonly so 
 unlucky and awkward, that in some things it first despairs, 
 and shortly after despises itself; and at first it seems in¬ 
 credible that any such thing could be invented, but after 
 it is invented, again it appears incredible that it could have 
 escaped men so long. And this leads him to hope that 
 there yet remains a great mass of inventions which might be 
 gained, not only from uncovering new properties, but also 
 from transferring and applying those already known. 
 
 He accepted also as happy omens what he observed in the 
 mechanical arts and their success, especially when compared 
 with philosophy. For the mechanical arts, as if enjoying 
 a certain vital air, grow and perfect themselves daily; 
 while philosophy, like a statue, is adored and celebrated, 
 but moves not. The former also are seen rude and com¬ 
 monly without proportion and cumbrous in the hands of 
 their first authors; but afterwards get new strength and 
 aptness. The latter is in its greatest vigour with its first 
 author, and afterwards declines. And the real cause of this 
 different success is that in the mechanical arts, the wits of 
 many meet together in one; but in philosophy the wits of 
 all are spoiled by one. For after they have surrendered 
 themselves they give no increase, but are employed in the 
 servile office of dressing and attending one. Wherefore 
 every philosophy, torn up from the roots of experience from 
 which it first sprung and grew, becomes dead matter. And 
 roused by this thought he observed also, that the means of 
 arts and sciences are, by universal consent, empirical or 
 
40 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 rational, that is, philosophical; but he has not yet seen 
 these well put together and united. For the empirical, like 
 the ant, only collects and uses; the rational, like the spider, 
 spins from itself. But the practice of the bee is midway, 
 which draws materials from the flowers of both garden and 
 held, but transmutes and digests them by a faculty of its 
 own. Nor is the work of true philosophy different, which 
 stores up the matter supplied by natural history and me¬ 
 chanical experiments, not raw in the memory, but changed 
 and prepared in the understanding. And he is aware that 
 there are some of the empirical who wish not to be held as 
 merely empirical, and of the reasoners who aim at seeming 
 industrious and plain in practice. But these have been and 
 are the artifices of a few, aiming at the character of each 
 excelling in his own sect; though, in reality, there has al¬ 
 ways been a division and almost antipathy between these 
 faculties. So he thought there was hope of excellent 
 effects from a close and confirmed union of them. 
 
 He saw also with pleasure that he found an infinite expense 
 of wit, time, and means, which men employ in matters and 
 pursuits that, rightly considered, are useless; while if a small 
 part of them were turned to what is sound and useful, it might 
 conquer every difficulty. Nor is there any reason to fear 
 the multitude of particulars, since the phenomena of the 
 arts are but a handful to the reasonings of the mind when 
 disunited and distracted from the evidence of things. Now 
 all this that has been said has its effect in producing hope; 
 but, above all, the most certain hope is from the errors of 
 the time past. And (as some one said of the maladmi¬ 
 nistration of civil government) that may be the best for 
 the future, which is the worst on looking to the past; for if 
 such errors cease (and giving warning is the first step to¬ 
 wards it), there would be a very great change in things. 
 But if men had passed through the course of so many years, 
 without being able to make any progress, no hope could 
 remain. For then it would be clear that the difficulty was 
 in the matter and subject (which are out of our power), not 
 in the instrument (which is within it), that is in the things 
 and their obscurity, not in the human mind and its work¬ 
 ing. But now it appears that the way is not stopped up 
 by any block or barrier, but turns from the path of men: 
 it does, therefore, cause in some measure the fear of soli¬ 
 tude, but threatens nothing more. In fine he determined 
 that, if even a much weaker and less sensible air breathed 
 from that new continent, it should yet be attempted. For 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 41 
 
 there is not the same danger in not trying a thing and not 
 succeeding in it; since, in the former case, the loss of a 
 great benefit, in the latter, of a little human labour is con¬ 
 cerned. In truth, both from what has and has not been 
 said, he saw well that there was sufficient hope, not only 
 for a diligent man to make trial, but also for a prudent and 
 sober one to give credit. 
 
 He thought also, that, when the desire is kindled, and 
 the hope formed, we must look to the means of perform¬ 
 ance. This is then what appeared to him generally in that 
 matter; and he thought fit to enclose and embrace it in 
 naked and open sentences. 
 
 He saw that things must be done entirely otherwise than 
 they are now; and therefore that the disproving of the 
 past is a kind of oracle for what is to come. 
 
 He thought that theories, and opinions, and common 
 notions, as far as can be obtained from the stiffness and 
 firmness of the mind, should be entirely done away with; 
 and that the understanding should begin anew plainly 
 and fairly with particulars ; since there is no other entrance 
 open to the kingdom of nature than to the kingdom of 
 heaven, into which no one may enter except in the form of 
 a little child. 
 
 He thought that a body and mass of particulars both 
 from their number, kind, and certainty or subtilty suffi¬ 
 cient for information, might be collected and stored up, 
 both from natural history and mechanical experiments, 
 the latter especially because nature displays herself more 
 fully when she is held and pressed by art than at her 
 own liberty. He thought that this mass should be reduced 
 and digested into tables and regular order, that the under¬ 
 standing may be able to act upon it and perform its office; 
 since even the divine word did not work upon a mass of 
 things without order. 
 
 He thought that we must not suddenly pass from the 
 particulars digested into tables, to the inquisition after 
 new particulars (which is nevertheless itself a useful thing, 
 and, like a kind of learned experience), but that we 
 should first proceed to general and large comprehensions, 
 and so far indulge the natural bent of the understanding. 
 But at the same time he saw that the natural but vicious 
 motion and impulse of the mind to jump from particu¬ 
 lars to high and general comprehensions (such as what 
 are called the first principles of arts and things), and to 
 get at the rest by descending through the middle ones, 
 
42 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 must be altogether checked; but the nearest comprehen¬ 
 sions must be first drawn out and discovered, and then the 
 middle ones, and we must climb the true ladder by repeated 
 steps. For the paths of thought and understanding almost 
 agree with that twofold way in morals, sung by the ancients; 
 for one road, smooth at the entrance, leads to pathless wilds, 
 the other, steep and difficult at first, ends in level road. 
 
 He thought that such a form of induction should be 
 introduced as should conclude generally from certain in¬ 
 stances, so that it can be proved that there cannot be 
 found a contradictory instance, lest by chance we pro¬ 
 nounce from fewer than are adequate, and from those which 
 are at our feet; and (as one of the ancients said) seek know¬ 
 ledge in our private worlds, and not in the public one. He 
 saw that that comprehension only should be approved of 
 and received, which was not made and fitted to the measure 
 of the particulars from which it was derived, but which 
 was rather more ample and lax, and supported' its ampli¬ 
 tude and laxity by the designation of new particulars as a 
 sort of suretyship, lest we should stop at what is already 
 known, or perchance in too wide an embrace catch shadows 
 and abstract forms. He saw that many things beside these 
 should be invented to work notably, not so much to the 
 perfecting of the matter, as to the shortening of the labour, 
 and to the speeding of men’s harvest from it. And whe¬ 
 ther all this be rightly thought or otherwise, we must, if 
 need be, appeal from the opinions, and stand by the effects. 
 
 He thought also that what he is treating of is rather 
 performance than opinion, and that it lays the foundations 
 not of any sect or school, but of immense utility and en¬ 
 largement. Wherefore thought must be taken not only 
 about accomplishing the matter, but about communicating 
 and transmitting it, which is of equal consequence. 'But 
 he found that men minister to their love of fame and pomp 
 by sometimes publishing, sometimes concealing the know¬ 
 ledge of things which they think they have got; and that 
 they who propose what is least solid are, more than others, 
 used to barter what they offer in an obscure and doubtful 
 light, that they may more easily swell the sails of their 
 vanity. But he thought that he was handling a subject 
 which it were unbecoming to defile with any ambition or 
 affectation; but yet that he must needs descend to the 
 recollection (unless indeed he were very inexperienced in 
 affairs and minds, and would begin his journey without 
 any search) that inveterate errors like the ravings of the 
 
I 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 43 
 
 lunatic, must be subdued by art and contrivance, and are 
 aggravated by violence and opposition. We must, there¬ 
 fore, use prudence, and humour them (as far as we can 
 with simplicity and candour), that contradictions may be 
 extinguished before they are inflamed. For this object he 
 is preparing a work on nature, which may destroy errors 
 with the least harshness, and enter the senses of mankind 
 without violence; which would be easier from his not 
 bearing himself as a leader, but bringing and scattering 
 light from nature herself, so that there may be no future 
 need of a leader. But as time meanwhile glides away, and 
 he has been more engaged in business than he wished; it 
 seems a long work; especially when he considers the un¬ 
 certainty of life, and pants to lay up something in safety. 
 It therefore seemed to him that something simpler might 
 be proposed which, though not uttered to the many, might 
 perchance at least be sufficient to preserve so salutary a 
 matter from abortion. And after considering the matter, 
 and weighing it long and attentively, it seemed to him the 
 best way that tables of invention, or formulae of just inqui¬ 
 sition, that is, a mass of particulars, arranged for the work 
 of the understanding, should be offered in some subjects, 
 by way of an exemplar and almost visible description of 
 the work. For nothing can be found to place in a clearer 
 light the right road or the wanderings of error; or show 
 more plainly that what is offered is but words: nor which 
 would be more carefully avoided by the man who either 
 mistrusted his scheme, or desired it to be caught at and 
 celebrated above its deserts. But, if it is not allowed him 
 to complete his designs, as there are nevertheless human 
 minds of a strong and lofty character, it may be that, even 
 without more assistance, taking the hint from what is 
 offered, they may be able to look for and master the rest of 
 themselves. For he is almost of opinion (as some one said) 
 that this will be enough for the wise, though even more 
 would not be for the dull. But he saw that it would be 
 too abrupt to begin his teaching with the tables themselves ; 
 and therefore that he should say something suitable by way 
 of preface, which he thinks he has now done, and that ail 
 which has been hitherto said leads only thither. Lastly, 
 he saw that, if any good be found in what has been or shall 
 be said, it should be dedicated as the fat of the sacrifice to 
 God, and to men in God’s similitude, who procure the good 
 of mankind by true affection and benevolence. 
 
 ♦ 
 
 G. W. 
 
OF THE 
 
 PRINCIPLES AND ORIGINS OF NATURE, 
 
 ACCORDING TO THE FABLES OF CUPID AND HEAVEN *. OR, THE PHI¬ 
 LOSOPHY OF PARMENIDES, TELESIUS, AND PARTICULARLY OF 
 DEMOCRITUS, AS EXHIBITED IN THE FABLE CONCERNING CUPID. 
 
 The fables of the ancients respecting Cupid or Love 
 cannot be made to agree in one and the same person. 
 They indeed profess to speak of two Cupids of two dif¬ 
 ferent periods, the one the most ancient of the gods, the 
 other of a much later era. At present we will treat of the 
 ancient Cupid. They relate that this Cupid was the most 
 ancient of the gods, and therefore of all things, excepting 
 chaos, which is said to have been coeval with him. This 
 Cupid had no parent, but being united to heaven, was the 
 father of the gods and of all things. Some indeed would 
 derive him from an egg over which Night brooded. Dif¬ 
 ferent attributes are ascribed to him, so that he is repre¬ 
 sented as a boy blind, naked, winged, and armed with 
 darts. His chief and especial influence is over the uniting 
 of bodies. To him were given the keys of the earth, the 
 sea, and the sky. Another and younger Cupid is also cele¬ 
 brated in fable, the son of Venus. To him are ascribed 
 the attributes of the ancient Cupid, besides many peculiar 
 to himself. This fable, with the sequel respecting heaven, 
 seems to embrace in a concise parable the doctrine of the 
 elements of things and of the origin of the world, and to 
 agree with that of Democritus, except that it appears 
 somewhat closer, more reasonable, and clearer. For the 
 observations of that confessedly acute and accurate philo¬ 
 sopher nevertheless were of a too diffusive nature, and did 
 not seem to keep their proper limit, and to confine and 
 support themselves sufficiently. And indeed these dogmas, 
 which lie veiled in the parable, although better regulated, 
 are yet of such a nature as to appear to have come from 
 the mind left to itself, and not uniformly and gradually 
 assisted by experience; for this seems to have been the 
 common fault of antiquity. But it must first be remarked, 
 that the opinions brought forward in this part of my trea- 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 45 
 
 tise were the conclusions and productions of unassisted 
 reason, and rested on perception alone, the failing and im¬ 
 perfect oracles of which are deservedly rejected, now that 
 the higher and more certain light of the Divine Word has 
 shone upon men. That chaos therefore which was coeval 
 with Cupid signified the confused and disordered mass or 
 collection of matter. But matter itself with its power and 
 nature, in a word, the elements of things were shadowed 
 out in Cupid himself. He is introduced without a parent, 
 that is, without a cause: for cause is as it were the parent 
 of effect; and in tropical discourse nothing is therefore 
 more usual than for the parent to stand for cause, and the 
 offspring for effect. But there cannot be in nature (for we 
 always except God) any cause of the first matter and of its 
 proper influence and action, for there is nothing prior in 
 time to the first matter. Therefore there is no efficient nor 
 any thing more known to nature; there is therefore neither 
 genus nor form. Wherefore whatever primitive matter is, 
 together with its influence and action, it is sui generis, and 
 admits of no definition drawn from perception, and is to be 
 taken just as it is found, and not to be judged of from any 
 preconceived idea. For the mode of it, if it is given to us 
 to know it, cannot be judged of by means of its cause, 
 seeing that it is, next to God, the cause of causes, itself 
 without a cause. For there is a certain real limit of causes 
 in nature, and it would argue levity and inexperience in a 
 philosopher to require or imagine a cause for the last and 
 positive power and law of nature, as much as it would not 
 to demand a cause in those that are subordinate. 
 
 On this account the ancients have fabled Cupid to be 
 without a parent, that is, without a cause. And they did 
 so not without design. Nay, perhaps there is not any thing 
 more important; for nothing has more corrupted philosophy 
 than the seeking after the parents of Cupid; I mean, that 
 philosophers have not received and embraced the elements 
 of things as they are found in nature, as a certain fixed 
 and positive doctrine, and as it were by an experimental 
 trust in them; but have rather deduced them from the 
 laws of words, and from dialectics and slight mathematical 
 conclusions and common notions and similar wanderings 
 of the mind beyond the bounds of nature. This therefore 
 must be constantly in the philosopher’s thoughts, that 
 Cupid is without parents, lest perchance his understanding 
 turn aside to empty questions; because in universal per¬ 
 ceptions of this kind the human mind becomes diffusive, 
 and departs from the right use of itself and of its objects, 
 
4 G 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 and, whilst it tends toward things more distant, falls back 
 upon those that are nearer. For when, through its own 
 limited capacity, it is accustomed to be most affected by 
 those things which occur familiarly to it, and which can 
 enter and strike the mind suddenly ; it comes to pass that 
 when it stretches itself toward those things which, accord¬ 
 ing to experience, are for the most part universal, and 
 nevertheless is unwilling to rest satisfied, then, as if desi¬ 
 rous of something more within the reach of its know¬ 
 ledge, it turns itself to those things which have most 
 effected or allured it, and imagines them to be more causa¬ 
 tive and palpable than those universals. Therefore it has 
 been now laid down that the first essence of things, or 
 Cupid, is without a cause. 
 
 We have now to inquire into the mode of this thing which 
 is uncaused: and the mode of it is likewise very obscure, 
 which indeed the fable elegantly hints in Cupid being 
 hatched beneath the brooding wing of night. So at least 
 the Inspired Philosopher saith, “ God hath made all things 
 beautiful in their seasons: He hath also set the world in their 
 heart, yet so that no man can find out the work that God 
 maketh from the beginning unto the end.” For the great 
 law of essence and nature which cuts and runs through the 
 vicissitudes of things (which law seems to be described in the 
 compass of the words “ the work which God wrought from the 
 beginning even to the end”), the power lodged by God in 
 the primitive particles, from the multiplication of which the 
 whole variety of things might spring forth and be composed, 
 may indeed just strike, but cannot enter deeply the mind 
 of man. But that saying concerning the egg of night is 
 very aptly referred to those proofs by means of which our 
 Cupid is brought to light. For those proofs which are 
 concluded by means of affirmatives, seem to be the offspring 
 of light,- those which are concluded by means of negatives 
 and exclusions, may be called the offspring of darkness 
 and night: and Cupid is in truth the egg sprung from 
 night; for all the knowledge we can gather respecting him 
 comes by the way of negatives and exclusions. But a 
 proof gathered by exclusions has still some degree of igno¬ 
 rance in it, and is a kind of night as to that which is in¬ 
 cluded in it: whence Democritus admirably remarked that 
 the atoms or seeds and their properties were like nothing 
 that falls under the observation of sense, and held them to 
 be of a dark and secret nature. He therefore pronounced 
 of them, “ They are neither like fire, nor any other thing, the 
 body of which is perceptible by sense, or open to the touch.” 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 47 
 
 And again he says of their nature, “ but it is requisite the 
 elements in the work of creation should put forth a secret 
 and dark nature, lest any contrariousand opposing principle 
 arise.” Therefore atoms are neither like sparks of fire nor 
 drops of water, nor bubbles of air, nor grains of sand, nor the 
 minute particles of spirit or ether. Nor is the power and form 
 of them a something heavy or light, or hot or cold, or dense 
 or rare, or hard or soft, as are found in larger bodies, since 
 those powers and the rest of that order are compounded 
 and wrought together. And in like manner the natural 
 motion of an atom is neither that motion of descent which 
 is called natural, nor a motion opposed to that force, nor a 
 motion of expansion and contraction, nor of impulsion and 
 connexion, nor the rotatory motion of the heavenly bodies, 
 nor any other of the greater motions simply. But notwith¬ 
 standing this, in the body of an atom are the elements of 
 all bodies, and in the nature of an atom the beginning of 
 all motions and natural properties. But yet in this very 
 point, namely, the motion of an atom as compared with the 
 motion of greater substances, the philosophy of the parable 
 appears to differ from that of Democritus. For he is not 
 only opposed to the parable, but inconsistent if not contra¬ 
 dictory in his more copious assertions on this head. For 
 he should have ascribed an heterogeneous motion to an 
 atom not less than an heterogeneous body and power. But 
 he out of the motions of greater substances, has chosen 
 two, to ascribe them as primitive motions to atoms, namely, 
 the descent of heavy and the ascent of light bodies, 
 (which he explained by the striking or the percussion of 
 the more heavy, in forcing upwards the less heavy, bo¬ 
 dies). But the parable all along preserves the hetero¬ 
 geneous, and exclusive nature it ascribes to atoms, as well 
 in speaking of its motion as of its substance. But the 
 parable further intimates that this exclusion has its limit, 
 for night does not brood over the egg for ever: and it is 
 certainly proper to the Deity, that in our inquiry into his 
 nature by means of the senses exclusions should not ter¬ 
 minate in affirmatives. And there is another reason for 
 this, namely, that after the due exclusions and negations 
 ! something should be affirmed and settled, and that the egg 
 should be produced as it were by a seasonable and mature 
 incubation; not only that the egg should be brought forth 
 by night, but also that the person of Cupid should be de¬ 
 livered of the egg : that is, that not only should an obscure 
 notion upon this subject be originated, but one that is 
 distinct. Thus much upon demonstrations, as far as they 
 
48 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 can be given, upon the first matter, and I think in accord¬ 
 ance with the parable. 
 
 We come now to Cupid himself, the primitive matter 
 and its properties, involved in so great darkness; and let 
 us see what light the parable can throw upon it. And 
 here 1 am aware that opinions of this sort the most in¬ 
 credible have entered men’s mind. Certainly was this 
 danger incurred here by the philosophy of Democritus 
 itself upon atoms, which from its seeming acuteness and 
 profundity, and for its remoteness from common notions 
 was childishly entertained by the vulgar, but unsettled 
 and nearly overthrown by the arguments of other philo¬ 
 sophies which came nearer the vulgar comprehension: and 
 yet he was the admiration of his age, and was styled 
 Pentathlus for his multifarious erudition, and was deemed 
 by universal consent the greatest of natural philosophers, 
 and obtained the name of a wise map. Nor could even 
 the opposition of Aristotle (who like the Ottomans could 
 not feel firm upon his throne until he had murdered his 
 brother philosophers; and who was solicitous, as appears 
 from his own words, that posterity should not doubt his 
 dogmas) effect by his violence, nor the majesty of Plato 
 effect by reverence the demolition of this philosophy of 
 Democritus. But whilst the dicta of Aristotle and Plato 
 were celebrated with applause and professorial ostentation 
 in the schools, the philosophy of Democritus was in great 
 repute amongst the wiser sort, and those who more closely 
 gave themselves to the depths and silence of contemplation. 
 It kept its ground and was approved in the era of Roman 
 letters; for Cicero every where makes mention of him with 
 perfect approbation; and soon after we read the panegyric 
 of the poet, who appears to echo after the manner of the 
 poets the sentiment of his times, whose wisdom shows that 
 in a land of dulness and beneath a Boeotian sky, the greatest 
 and the most illustrious men can spring; up. (Juv. Sat. 
 10. v. 48.) 
 
 Neither Aristotle therefore nor Plato, but Genseric, 
 Attila, and the barbarians were the ruin of this philosophy. 
 For then, after that human learning had suffered ship¬ 
 wreck, those records of the Aristotelian and Platonic phi¬ 
 losophy as being lighter and more inflated matter, were 
 preserved and came down to our times, whilst the more 
 solid sank and went into oblivion. I cannot but consider, 
 on the other hand, the philosophy of Democritus w r orthy 
 of being rescued from neglect, especially since it agrees in 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 49 
 
 most things with the authority of antiquity. In the first 
 place then, Cupid is described as a certain person, and to 
 him are attributed infancy, wings, arrows, and other attri¬ 
 butes, concerning which we will afterward speak sepa¬ 
 rately. But this we assume in the meanwhile, that the 
 ancients laid down the primitive matter (such as can be 
 the origin of things) with a form and properties, not ab¬ 
 stract, potential and informal. And certainly that matter 
 which is stripped and passive seems altogether an inven¬ 
 tion of the human mind, and to have sprung thence, for 
 those things are mostly present to the human understand¬ 
 ing which it most imbibes, and with which itself is most 
 moved. Hence it is that forms as they are called seem to 
 exist more than either matter or action, because the one is 
 hid, the other glides before us; the one is not so strongly 
 impressed, the other constantly inheres. But forms on 
 the other hand are deemed evident and lasting, so that the 
 primitive and common matter seems as it were an acces¬ 
 sory, and to be in the place of a support to them; but 
 every sort of action only an emanation from the form, and 
 forms therefore to be in every respect worthy of the higher 
 rank. And hence also seems to be derived the kingdom of 
 forms and ideas in essences, by the addition of a kind of 
 phantastic matter. Some things moreover have grown out 
 of this superstition; (from want of judgment having, as 
 might have been expected, followed this error) abstract 
 ideas and their powers have been introduced; with such 
 confidence and authority that this troop of dreamers had 
 nearly overpowered the more sober class of thinkers. But 
 these follies have for the most part disappeared, although 
 one person in our age, with more daring than advantage, 
 made it his endeavour to raise and prop them up when 
 they were of themselves on the decline. I think however 
 that it can to an unprejudiced person be easily shown 
 how, contrary to reason, abstract matter was made into an 
 element. It arose thus ; men supposed that forms endued 
 with action subsisted by themselves, but none thought that 
 matter thus subsisted by itself; not even those who con¬ 
 sidered it an element; and it seemed unreasonable and 
 contrary to the nature of an inquiry upon the elements of 
 things to make entities out of mere imaginations. And it 
 is not our object to search how we can most conveniently 
 conceive of the nature of entities or distinguish them, but 
 what are in truth the first and simplest possible of all enti¬ 
 ties, from which all others are derived. But the first ones 
 VOL. xv. E 
 
50 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 ought no less to possess a real existence than those which 
 flow from it; rather more. For it has its own peculiar 
 essence, and from it come all the rest. But the assertions 
 that have been made respecting abstract matter are as 
 absurd as it would be to say that the universe and nature 
 were made out of categories and such dialectic notions, as 
 out of elements. For the difference is by no means im¬ 
 portant between asserting that the world sprang from mat¬ 
 ter and form and privation, and asserting that it arose out 
 of substance and the contrary qualities. But almost all 
 the ancients, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, Anaximenes, Hera¬ 
 clitus, Democritus, though disagreeing in other respects 
 upon the prime matter, joined in this, that they held an 
 active matter with a form, both arranging its own form and 
 having within itself the principle of motion. Nor can any 
 one think otherwise without leaving experience altogether. 
 All these then submitted their mind to nature. But Plato 
 subjected the world to his contemplations, and Aristotle his 
 contemplations to terms: for the studies of men were at 
 that time verging toward logomachies and disputations, 
 and leaving the severer investigation of truth. Wherefore 
 dogmas of this nature are rather to be condemned in the 
 mass than refuted in detail. For they come not from a 
 desire of knowledge, but of much speaking: and that 
 abstract matter is not the matter of the universe, but matter 
 for disputation. For a true philosopher will dissect not 
 sever nature (for they who will not dissect, must pull her 
 asunder), and the prime matter is to be laid down joined 
 with the primitive form, as also with the first principle of 
 motion, as it is found. For the abstraction of motion has 
 also given rise to innumerable devices concerning spirits, 
 life, and the like, as if there were not laid a sufficient 
 ground for them through matter and form, but they de¬ 
 pended on their own peculiar elements. But these three 
 are not to be separated, but only distinguished, and matter 
 is to be so treated (whatever it be) in regard of its adorn¬ 
 ment, appendages, and form, as that all kind of influence, 
 essence, action, and natural motion may appear to be its 
 emanation and consequence. Nor need we fear that from 
 this that inquiry should stagnate, or that variety which we 
 perceive should become incapable of explanation, as will 
 be shown hereafter. And that the first matter is pos¬ 
 sessed of form the parable teaches in making Cupid a 
 definite person. Yet so that matter in the mass was at 
 first without form: for chaos is without form, Cupid is a 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 51 
 
 person. And this perfectly agrees with Holy Scripture. 
 For it is not written that God created in the beginning 
 the matter of chaos, but the heavens and the earth. 
 
 There is also subjoined a description of the state of 
 things as it was before the work of the days, in which dis¬ 
 tinct mention is made of the heaven and earth, which are 
 the names of forms, but yet that the mass according to the 
 whole was without form. But Cupid is introduced into the 
 parable personified, yet so as that he is naked. Therefore, 
 after those who speak of matter as abstract, they err next 
 (though in a contrary way), who speak of matter as not un¬ 
 clothed. And on this topic I have inserted some remarks, 
 in treating upon what kind of proofs are suited to the sub¬ 
 ject of the first matter, and upon the heterogeneous nature 
 of the first matter. But the proper place for this subject, 
 upon which we shall now enter. We will examine, there¬ 
 fore, who of those who attributed the origin of things to 
 matter endowed with form, held a native and bare form of 
 matter, and who, on the other hand, a form spread over it 
 and shapen. There are, in all, four sects of those who have 
 hazarded opinions on this subject.—The first is of those 
 who maintain one element of things, but set up a diversity 
 of entities in the unfixed and distributable nature of the same 
 element.—The second is of those who maintain an element 
 one in substance, and that fixed and invariable, but derive 
 a diversity of entities through the various magnitudes, 
 figures, and positions of this kind of element.—The third 
 is of those who maintain more elements, and a diversity of 
 entities on the ground of their temperament and commixture. 
 The fourth, of those who lay down an infinite or, at least, 
 very numerous body of elements of things, but with their 
 species and forms; and these have no need of inventing some¬ 
 thing to lead things to a various principle, seeing they already 
 separate nature from a primitive element. Among these only 
 the second sect seems to me to set forth Cupid as he is, 
 native and unclothed. The first introduces him as veiled, 
 the third with a coat, the fourth with a cloak and mask. 
 
 For the better explication of the parable, I will make 
 a few remarks on each. In the first place, then, of those 
 who have laid down but one first element, I find none 
 who affirm that of the earth. The nature of the earth in¬ 
 deed was against it; quiet, and senseless, and inactive, but 
 yielding to the influence of the heavens, of fire, and other 
 things; so that none thought of asserting this of the earth. 
 Yet the wisdom of the ancients assigned to the earth the 
 
52 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 next place after chaos, making it first the parent, then the 
 bride of the heaven, from which union proceed all things. 
 But we are not to suppose from this, that the ancients ever 
 thought of the earth as the principle of essence, but as the 
 element or rather origin of the system. We, therefore, 
 leave this subject to the parable on heaven that follows; 
 where we will inquire into the origin of things, which in¬ 
 quiry comes after that of their elements. 
 
 Thales made water the prime element.' For he saw that 
 matter was mostly disposed in moisture, and that in water. 
 But he deemed that it was right to make that the element 
 of things in which the virtues and powers of entities, espe¬ 
 cially the elements of generations and renovations, were 
 mostly found. He remarked that the generating of animals 
 was by moisture, and that the seeds and kernels of plants, 
 as long as they vegetated and were not dried up, were moist 
 and tender. He remarked that metals melted and flowed, 
 and were, as it were, the thickened juices of the earth, or 
 rather a kind of mineral Waters. He remarked that the 
 earth itself was enriched and renewed by showers or the 
 irrigation of rivers ; and that the earth and loam seemed 
 nothing but the dregs and sediments of water; but that 
 the air was very evidently the expiration and expansion of 
 water, and that fire was not conceived of itself, nor altoge¬ 
 ther continued, or was kept alive of itself, but from and 
 through moisture; and, moreover, that that fat of moisture, 
 in which the fire and flame are supported and live, appeared 
 a kind of maturity and concoction oFwater; and that a 
 body and mass of water was spread through the whole as 
 a common fuel; that the sea surrounded the land; that 
 there was a very vast and subterraneous force of sweet 
 waters, whence come springs and rivers which, like veins, 
 carry the waters through both the face and bowels of 
 the earth ; and that in the heights above were immense 
 congregations of vapours and waters, and, as it were, ano¬ 
 ther universe of waters, for the reparation and renovation 
 of the waters below, and of the sea. He, moreover, thought 
 that those waters and vapours fed the heavenly fires, for that 
 those worlds could not subsist without some nourishment, 
 and that this was the only nourishment that they could 
 possess. He remarked that the figure of water, as seen in 
 drops or particles of water, was that of the universe, round 
 and spherical, and that the undulation of water was apparent 
 even in air and fire; lastly, that the motion of water was 
 suited to its nature, neither too slow nor too quick, and of 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 53 
 
 all generations the most numerous was the generation of 
 fishes and water-animals. But Anaximenes chose air for 
 the one sole element. For if bulk is to come into consi¬ 
 deration in treating upon the elements of things, air seems 
 by far the most bulky, and to occupy the greatest space. 
 For unless a separate vacuum be given, or the superstition 
 of the heterogeneous nature of the heavenly and sublunary 
 bodies be resorted to, whatever is extended from the globe 
 of the earth to the furthest region of the heavenly expanse, 
 and is neither star nor meteor, seems to be filled with aerial 
 substance. And the abode of this earthly globe is thought 
 to be as a point in comparison of the circuit of the heavens. 
 But in the ether itself, how very small a portion is be¬ 
 sprinkled with stars, when in the nearer spheres they are 
 seen single, in the last, although there is a great number of 
 them, yet, considering the interstellar spaces, but a small 
 part of space seems to be occupied by stars; so that they 
 all appear to swim in one immense sea of ether. Nor is 
 that part of ether and spirit inconsiderable, which has its 
 seat and settlement in the waters and the hollow places of 
 the earth, whence the waters receive their tides. They are, 
 moreover, extended, and swell; but not only has the earth its 
 porousness, but also its tremors and agitations, evident signs 
 of wind and air pent up within it. But if a middle nature 
 is proper to elements, in order to the being susceptible of so 
 great a variety, that is certainly found in air. For air is, as 
 it were, the common bond of things, not only because it is 
 every where close at hand, and takes the place of other 
 things, and possesses itself of void spaces, but so much the 
 more from its appearing to have a middle and a diaphorous 
 nature. For this is that body which receives and conveys 
 light, darkness, and the tints of all colours and shades; 
 which, by its admirably nice motion, discriminates the im¬ 
 pressions and notes of harmonic and, what is by far more 
 remarkable, of articulate sounds, which enters without con¬ 
 fusing the differences of scents, not only those general ones 
 of pure and foetid, of dull, acute, and the like, but also the 
 peculiar and specific, as of the rose or the violet; which 
 accommodates itself equally to those remarkable and very 
 powerful qualities of hot and cold, also of wet and dry, in 
 which aqueous vapours, dense fogs, spirits of salts, fumes 
 of metals fly suspended in the height; lastly, in which the 
 rays of light and the closer agreements and variances of 
 things move and make a noise ; so that the air is, as it were, 
 a second chaos, in which so many seeds of things move, 
 
54 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 wander, try their powers, and are tried. Lastly, if you con¬ 
 sider its genial and vivifying power, which conducts you to 
 the elements of things and manifests them, they seem to be 
 also the more excellent parts of the air, so that the words 
 air, spirit, and life, are often used as if they were synony¬ 
 mous. And, with reason, since some degree of respiration 
 seems the inseparable companion of life a little more 
 advanced (excepting those little beginnings of life in em¬ 
 bryos and in eggs), so that fishes are suffocated by the 
 congealing of water. Also fire itself, unless kept alive by 
 the surrounding body of air, is extinguished, and seems 
 only worn out air irritated and inflamed; as water, on the 
 other hand, can appear to be the conjunction and reception 
 of air. Nor is there any necessity to maintain that the 
 earth constantly exhales the air, nor that it passes through 
 water into the form of air. But Heraclitus, who was more 
 acute, but not so much to be relied upon, held fire to be 
 the element of things. For it was not a middle nature, 
 which is wont to be extremely uncertain and corruptible, 
 but the highest and most perfect nature, wdiich is a consi¬ 
 derable bound, as it were, to corruption and change, which 
 Heraclitus sought for instituting the origin of things. Now 
 he saw that the greatest variety and perturbation of things 
 was found in solid and consistent bodies. For such bodies 
 can be organic and, as it were, a kind of machines, which 
 acquire innumerable variations according to their shape, as 
 the bodies of animals and plants. Even among these, such as 
 are not organic upon a closer inspection, are found to be very 
 dissimilar. For how great is the dissimilarity between those 
 very parts of animals which are called similar? the brain, 
 the chrystalline humour, the white of the eye, the bones, 
 membranes, cartilages, nerves, veins, flesh, fat, marrow, 
 blood, sperm, breath, chyle, and the rest; also between the 
 parts of vegetables, roots,barks, stalks, leaves, flowers, seeds, 
 and the like? But fossils are not certainly organic, but yet 
 are variously mixed together in one kind, and show’ mutually 
 a very great variety. Wherefore that base of the diversity 
 of entities, so vast, so broad, so extended, in which so vast 
 an apparatus of things is manifested and is constantly pre¬ 
 sent, seems to be fixed in a solid and constant nature. 
 But the power of formation seems plainly to desert the 
 bodies of liquids. For there is not found in all nature one 
 animal or plant in a body of mere fluid. That infinite 
 variety of form therefore is cut off and taken away from 
 the nature of liquid. No small variety however does 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 OO 
 
 remain, as is clear in the so great variety of fusibles, juices, 
 distilled bodies, and the like. But in aerial and pneumatic 
 bodies a much greater variety is enclosed, and there seems 
 drawn over them a somewhat promiscuous similitude of 
 things. That influence indeed of colours and tastes, by 
 which liquids are in some instances distinguished, ceases 
 indeed altogether here; but that of scents and of some other 
 properties remains yet, so as that they pass through, are 
 confused, and do not inhere ; so that on the whole variety 
 disappears in proportion as we approach the nature of 
 fire. But after we are come to the nature of fire, and that 
 rectified and purer, every organ, every peculiar property, 
 every dissimilarity is put off, and nature seems to coalesce 
 as it were in a pyramidal point, and to have reached the 
 limit of its own proper action. Heraclitus called therefore 
 the kindling of fire peace, because it made nature one; but 
 generation war, because it made it manifold. In order 
 therefore to explain by some means the manner in which 
 things ebbed and flowed as a stream, from variety to sim¬ 
 plicity and from simplicity to variety, he supposed fire was 
 condensed and then rarified, yet so as that that rarifying 
 toward the nature of fire should be the direct and pro¬ 
 gressive action of nature; but the densation as it were a 
 receding from and leaving of nature. He thought that 
 both took place by fate and at certain periods, (according 
 to the sum), so that there would be at some time or other a 
 conflagration of the world, which is now moved in its orbit, 
 and then a renovation, and so on successively for ever. 
 But he held a diverse order of incension and extinction, if 
 any one is w 7 ell versed in that slight remain of information 
 concerning him and his opinions which hath descended to 
 our time. But in the scale of incension he in no way dif¬ 
 fered from the usual and well known opinion, that the 
 progress of rarification and extenuation was from earth to 
 water, from water to air, from air to fire: but he did not 
 hold the same return, but plainly inverted the order. For 
 he asserted that fire brought out earth through extinction 
 as a kind of dregs and soot of fire ; that they next con¬ 
 ceived and collected moisture, whence came the flowing 
 forth of water, which again emitted and breathed out air, 
 so that a sudden not a gradual change is made from fire to 
 water. And these or better notions did those conceive 
 who asserted one element of things, looking upon nature 
 simply not for the sake of strife. And they are indeed to 
 be praised, because they ascribed but one vest to Cupid, 
 
56 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 that which approaches nearest to bareness, and as it were 
 a veil of the thinnest and lightest kind. But by the vest 
 of Cupid I mean a certain form attributed to primary mat¬ 
 ter, which is asserted to be substantially homogeneous 
 with the form of some one of the secondary entities. It 
 will be easy to prove that the assertions we have recited 
 respecting water, air, fire, are groundless, and here we can 
 take them by the genus, and not severally by the species, 
 into consideration. In the first place then the ancients did 
 not inquire with accuracy into the nature of elements, but 
 only made it their object to find out the chief virtues of 
 those bodies that were clearly under the senses, and those 
 virtues they supposed were the elements of things, through 
 a seeming not a real and true superiority of nature. For 
 they thought that such a nature was worthy of being said 
 to be solely that which it appeared: but every thing else 
 they held to be the nature itself, though by no means 
 according with the appearance ; so that they seen! to have 
 spoken metaphorically or to have been under some fasci¬ 
 nation, since the more powerful impression drew the re¬ 
 maining properties after it. But a true philosopher would 
 look with equal attention to all the circumstances, and 
 would consider those to be the elements of things which 
 agreed with the very least and fewest and the most soli¬ 
 tary of entities, and not only with the greatest, most 
 numerous, and most prolific. For although we men are 
 most struck by those entities which mostly meet our sight, 
 the bosom of nature is open to them all. But if they hold 
 that their opinion of an element, not on account of supe¬ 
 riority of nature but simply, they seem indeed to fall into 
 the adoption of a harsher figure; since the thing is plainly 
 made equivocal, and their assertion cannot be predicated 
 either of natural fire, air, or water, but of a certain phan- 
 tastical and notional fire (and so of the rest), which retains 
 the name without the definition of fire. They seem too 
 forced into the same difficulties with those who assert 
 abstract matter. For as they introduce an entire, so do 
 these a partial, potential, and phantastic matter. For they 
 lay down matter in one respect (as, that is, their supposed 
 element) with form and action; in other respects only 
 potential. Nor is any thing gained by this kind of sole 
 principle more than by the supposition of abstract matter, 
 unless it be deemed an advantage that it is entertainable 
 by the comprehension of man, in which human contem¬ 
 plation is more fixed and acquiesces, and through which 
 the notion of the element itself is made somewhat fuller, 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 57 
 
 but as to every other circumstance more difficult and ab¬ 
 struse. But predicaments did not rule then, so as that 
 this element of abstract nature might lie hid under the 
 protecting tutelage of the predicament of the substance. 
 No one dared therefore to feign a kind of matter entirely 
 phantastic, but decided upon a principle according to per¬ 
 ception, a certain true ens; but yet (proceeding in this 
 respect too far) the mode of its distribution phantastic. 
 For they find nothing, nay, they do not feign any thing by 
 which, by an appetite or incitement, or in any way, me¬ 
 thod, or guidance, this their element may degenerate from 
 itself and again return to itself. But when throughout 
 the universe there appears so great an army of contrary 
 powers, density, rarity, heat, cold, light, darkness, anima¬ 
 tion, inanimation, and of many others which contend with 
 each other and fall into privation or nothingness, to sup¬ 
 pose that all these flow from one and the same fount of a 
 material nature, and yet not to point out any way in which 
 this can take place, is the part of a mind overcome by dis¬ 
 traction, and seems a departure from the spirit of true 
 inquiry. For if the thing were clearly made out by sense 
 it were to be borne with, though the mode of it were 
 involved in obscurity; again, if by the strength of reason 
 any suitable and credible mode could be searched out, one 
 might learn perhaps from appearances; but our assent is 
 by no means to be demanded to the existence of entities, 
 neither evident to the senses nor admitting of any probable 
 elucidation from reason. Besides, if there were but one 
 element of things, there ought to be seen in all things 
 some signs of it, and certain more excellent parts, and a 
 certain preeminent quality in their nature. It ought 
 moreover to be in open sight, that it might the more easily 
 be accessible to all things, and might diffuse itself through¬ 
 out its orbit. But none of these things can be made out 
 from their dogmas. For the earth, which is cut off from 
 the honour of being deemed an element, appears to receive 
 and cherish natures opposite to these three principal, see¬ 
 ing that to the mobility and lucid nature of fire it opposes 
 the natures of rest and darkness; to the tenuity and soft¬ 
 ness of air, in like manner, the natures of density and 
 hardness; and to the humidity and yieldingness of water, 
 a nature dry, stubborn, and rough, and the earth occupies 
 a middle rank, the rest being denied this claim. Moreover 
 if it were the only principle of things, it ought to have 
 a natural fitness equal to both the generation and dissolu¬ 
 tion of things. For it as much belongs to the nature of an 
 
58 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 element that things should be dissolved into it as that they 
 should be produced out of it. But this is not the case: 
 but of those bodies air and fire seem quite incapacitated 
 from administering any generating material, and only to 
 be adapted to the receiving of bodies resolved into them. 
 But, on the other hand, water is very favourable and con¬ 
 ducive to generation, but with respect to resolution or 
 restoration of bodies the reverse; as would be easily per¬ 
 ceptible, if showers cease a little while. Nay, putrefac¬ 
 tion itself by no means reduces things to pure and raw 
 water. But this was by far their greatest error, that they 
 made an element of that which is corruptible and mortal. 
 This they do, when they introduce an element which lays 
 down and leaves its own nature in its compounds. For 
 “ whatever by undergoing change departs from its proper 
 limits, this change is forthwith the death of that thing 
 which it was before/’ But we shall need to take this into 
 our account more when we have come to the proper place 
 for considering the third sect, which held more elements 
 than one, which sect has at once more strength and more 
 prejudice. We will therefore treat of these opinions seve¬ 
 rally and not in the mass. 
 
 Of those, then, who asserted a plurality of elements we 
 will place by themselves such as make them also infinite. 
 For the consideration of infinity pertains to the parable of 
 the heaven. But of the ancients Parmenides held two 
 principles, the fire and the earth, or heaven and earth. 
 For he asserted that the sun and stars were true fire, 
 pure and limpid, not degenerate as our fire, which, like 
 Vulcan after his fall, is the worse for its transmission. 
 These opinions were brought up again in our age by Tele- 
 sius, who was deeply versed in the peripatetic system (if, 
 indeed, there can be said to be system in it), which yet he 
 turned against itself; but unhappy in the stating of propo¬ 
 sitions, and more able to pull down than to build up. There 
 are indeed but very slight and sparing memorials left us of 
 the conceptions of Parmenides. But we see the founda¬ 
 tions of a similar opinion obviously laid in Plutarch, “ De 
 primo frigido,” which seems to be taken from an ancient 
 work then in being, but now lost. For they contain not a 
 few opinions more acute and solid than the authors gene¬ 
 rally were; and by these Telesius seems to have been roused 
 both to catch them up with earnestness, and to pursue them 
 with vigour, in his commentaries on the nature of things. 
 These are the dogmas of this sect: that the first forms and 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 59 
 
 first entities are active, and that so the first substances also, 
 cold and heat; that these nevertheless exist incorporeally, 
 but that there is subjoined to them a passive and poten¬ 
 tial matter, which has a corporeal magnitude, and is equally 
 susceptive of either nature, itself at the same time void of 
 all action: that light is the budding forth of heat, but of 
 heat scattered, which, being multiplied by coition, is made 
 firm and sensible; that darkness is, in like manner, the 
 destitution and commingling of nature radiating from cold ; 
 that rarity and density are the textures, and, as it were, 
 the webs of heat and cold ; but that heat and cold produce 
 and manufacture them, as it were, cold by condensing and 
 thickening the work, heat by widening and extending it: 
 that from such kind of textures is put into bodies a dispo¬ 
 sition of their parts toward motion, either suitable to motion 
 or somewhat averse to it, in the thinner bodies prompt and 
 naturally fitted to motion, in the denser inclining to torpor 
 and averse to it: that heat therefore excites and effects 
 motion through a rarified space, and that cold represses 
 and stops motion through a dense space: wherefore say 
 they there are four coessential natures and conjoined, and 
 those twofold, preserving that order mutually which I have 
 mentioned (for heat and cold are the sources, the others are 
 emanations), yet that, nevertheless, they are ever concomi¬ 
 tant and inseparable : that those four natures are heat, 
 light, rarity, and motion : that again, there are four opposed 
 to these ; cold, darkness, denseness, and immobility: that 
 the seats and regions of the first conjugation is in the hea¬ 
 ven, the stars, and especially in the sun; for that the heaven 
 from its surpassing and pure heat, and from its matter 
 mostly extended, is the hottest, most clear, and most rare, 
 and highly inclined to motion; that the earth, on the other 
 hand, owing to its pure and unbroken cold, and from its 
 matter being mostly contracted, was the most cold, dark, 
 and dense, utterly motionless, and altogether unsuited by 
 nature to motion; but that the heights of heaven preserve 
 their nature entire and unhurt, admitting some diversity 
 among themselves, but altogether removed from the vio¬ 
 lence and attack of a contrary : that there is the same con¬ 
 sistency through the lower parts of the earth, that only the 
 extreme parts where there is a nearness and meeting of the 
 contraries is uneasy, and suffers opposition from the mutual 
 quarter; that so the heaven is in its whole mass and sub¬ 
 stance full of heat, and entirely free from every contrary 
 nature, but unequally, being in some parts more, in others 
 
60 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 less heated: that the body of the stars is more intensely 
 hot, the interstellary space less so: and, moreover, that 
 some stars are more endued with heat than others, and are 
 of a more vivid and darting kind of fire; yet so as that the 
 contrary nature of cold, or any degree of it, never pene¬ 
 trates thither; for that the body of the stars receive a 
 diversity, but not a contrariety of nature : and that no judg¬ 
 ment can be formed from common fire of the heat or fire of 
 the heavenly bodies, which is pure, and in its natural state; 
 that our fire is indeed remote from its own natural place, 
 tremulous, surrounded with contrary influences, of a low 
 nature, requiring, as it were, nourishment for its very ex¬ 
 istence, and wandering about, but that being placed in the 
 heavens, disjoined from the impetus of any contrary force, 
 it kept its own place, was preserved out of its own power, 
 and out of that of similar influences, and preserved its own 
 proper course of action in freedom and unmolested. Also 
 that the whole heaven was full of light, though not in the 
 same proportion throughout. For since of the stars that 
 are known and can be reckoned up, some which can only 
 be seen when the heavens are unclouded, and since there 
 are in the galaxy clusters of little stars which by their 
 union give forth a white appearance but do not seem dis¬ 
 tinct bodies of light, none can doubt that there are very 
 many stars invisible to us, and that so the whole of the 
 heaven is one body endowed with light, though not with 
 light so strong and darting, nor with rays so deep and con¬ 
 densed as to pass beyond such vast distances, and to reach 
 our sight. And he held that the whole heaven was of a 
 thin and subtle substance, and that there was nothing in 
 it that was crowded together, nothing forcedly compact, 
 but that in this region matter was more expanded, in that 
 less. Lastly, that the motion of the heaven was such as 
 most suited a moveable body, conversive or rotatory, for 
 the circular motion is without a bound, and that for its 
 own sake, as it were, this motion is in a right line, to a 
 limit, and to some object, and as if for the purpose of at¬ 
 taining rest. That, therefore, the whole heaven was borne 
 along by a circular motion, and that no part of it was 
 without this motion, but that, nevertheless, as in the heat, 
 light, and subtlety of the heavenly nature there exists 
 inequality, so it is also seen in the motion of the heavens, 
 and the more clearly since it admits more of human obser¬ 
 vation, and can even be measured. 
 
 But that orbicular motion can differ both in its speed and 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 Gi 
 
 in its course; in speed so as to be either quicker or slower, in 
 its course so as to be in a perfect circle, or to have somewhat 
 of a spiral direction, and not to restore itself plainly to the 
 same bound (for a spiral line is compounded of a right line 
 and a circle), and that so the heaven is subject to variety of 
 speed, and to deflection from recovery of itself, or to a 
 spiral course. For both the fixed stars and the planets are 
 of unequal speed, and the planets evidently turn from tropic 
 to tropic, and the higher the heavenly bodies are, the greater 
 speed they acquire and the nearer compass. For if the 
 phenomena are taken simply, and as they appear, and there 
 be laid down one diurnal motion in the heavens, simple 
 and natural, and that mathematical beauty of reducing 
 motions to perfect circles be rejected, and spiral lines re¬ 
 ceived, and those contrarieties of motions in consecutive 
 order from east to west which they call the motion of the 
 primum mobile, and again from west to east, which they 
 call the planetary motion, are reduced to one, by still keep¬ 
 ing the difference of the time in the return through over 
 haste, and through leaving of the course to the difference 
 as to the smoothness of the zodiac through the windings, 
 it is plain that it will take place which I have said: for 
 instance, that the moon, which is the lowest of the planets, 
 will go the most slowly in a curve the least deep, and 
 most expanded. And there may seem to this sect to be 
 (on account of the distance from the opposite side) a firm 
 and constant kind of nature of this portion of the heaven. 
 But Telesius does not clearly lay down whether he pre¬ 
 served the ancient bounds so as to conceive that whatever 
 was situated above the moon was the same with the moon 
 itself, or whether he thought that an opposing power as¬ 
 cended higher. But he held a portion of the earth (which 
 is the seat of an opposite nature) to be in the same way 
 quite of an unmixed and solid nature, and impenetrable 
 by heavenly influences. But he considered that there was 
 no reason for inquiring into the nature of that portion, only 
 that it was endowed with these four natures, cold, darkness, 
 density, and rest, and those perfect, and no way impaired. 
 But he assigns to the generation of things the part of the 
 earth toward its surface as a kind of bark or incrustation, 
 | and that all the entities which have come to our knowledge 
 in any way, even the heaviest, hardest, and the lowest down, 
 metals, stones, the sea are produced from the earth, subdued 
 in some part by the heat of the heaven, and which has 
 already conceived somewhat of heat, radiation, tenuity, and 
 
 
62 
 
 FABLE OF CUPTD. 
 
 mobility, and which partakes of a middle nature between 
 the sun and the pure earth. It is requisite, therefore, that 
 that pure earth be placed lower than the bottom of the sea, 
 than minerals, and every thing that is generated : and 
 that from that pure earth, even to the moon, or perhaps 
 higher, there be placed a certain middle nature, proceeding 
 from the temperaments and refractions of the heaven and 
 earth. But having sufficiently fortified the interior of 
 both kingdoms, he proceeds to the march and to the war. 
 For in the space within the outermost region of heaven and 
 the innermost of earth, is all kind of tumult, and conflict, 
 and horror; as it is with empires, the borders of which are 
 infested with incursions whilst the interior provinces enjoy 
 . profound peace. That so these natures with their concre¬ 
 tions have the power of incessantly generating and multi¬ 
 plying themselves, and of pouring themselves on every side, 
 and of occupying the whole bulk of nature, and of mutually 
 opposing and invading each other, and of casting one the 
 other from their proper seats, and of establishing them¬ 
 selves in them; that they also have the power of another 
 nature and its actions, both those that are proper to per¬ 
 ception and apprehension, and that from this kind of 
 perception they have the power of moving and adjusting 
 themselves; and that from this conflict is deduced the 
 whole variety of all entities, actions, and influences. But 
 it seems elsewhere to have ascribed to it, though rather by 
 the way and hesitatingly, somewhat of the property of 
 matter; first, that it should not admit of increase or dimi¬ 
 nution through forms and active entities, but should be 
 made up of one whole: then, that the motion of gravity or 
 descent should be referred to it. He moreover inserts 
 something on the blackness of matter: but that he does 
 plainly; that heat and cold by the same force and power 
 remit their strength in extended matter, expand it in con¬ 
 tracted, since they do not fill their own measure but that 
 of matter. But Telesius devises a method by which to 
 explain the rise of so various a fecundity of entities out of 
 this discord. And first he has regard to the earth, though 
 the inferior element, and shows why it is that it has not 
 been and never will be absorbed and destroyed by the sun. 
 The chief reason he makes to be the immense distance of 
 the earth from the fixed stars, sufficiently great from the 
 sun itself, and such as it should be, well proportioned in 
 measure. Secondly, the declination of the sun’s rays 
 from the perpendicular respect being had to the different 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 63 
 
 parts of the earth, that for instance the sun should never 
 be vertically above the greater part of the earth, or the 
 falling of his rays perpendicular; so that it can never 
 occupy the whole globe of the earth with any very powerful 
 body of heat. Thirdly, the obliquity of the sun’s motion in 
 its passage through the zodiac, respect being had to the same 
 parts of the earth whence the heat of the sun, in whatever 
 power it is, is not incessantly increased, but returns by 
 greater intervals. Fourthly, the celerity of the sun in 
 respect of his diurnal motion which accomplishes so great 
 a course in so small a space of time, whence arises a less 
 delay of heat, nor is there any moment of time in which 
 the heat may settle. Fifthly, the continuation of series of 
 bodies between the sun and the earth ; so that the sun does 
 not send forth an unbroken power of heat through a 
 vacuum, but passing through so many resisting bodies, 
 and having to do and to contend with each, is weakened 
 over this immense space; and so much the more, since the 
 further it proceeds and the weaker it becomes, so much 
 the more increase of resistance does it find in the bodies, 
 and most of all after arriving at the surface of the earth, 
 where there seems not only a resistance, but even some 
 degree of repulsion. And he thus lays down his theory on 
 the process of change. That there is as it were a deadly 
 and interminable war, and that those contrary natures do 
 not come together by any compact, nor by a third, except¬ 
 ing primitive matter. That either nature therefore naturally 
 seeks the destruction of the other, and the putting into 
 matter itself and our nature only, so that it is the object 
 of each (as he repeatedly and very plainly saith) to effect a 
 change of the other, of the sun, the change of the earth 
 into the sun; and of the earth, the change of the sun into 
 the earth; and that the regularity and justly proportioned 
 motions -of all things present no obstacle to this theory; 
 nor that every action has in its due course it& beginning, 
 its progress, its increase, its diminution, and its rest: that 
 nevertheless not any of these happen through the laws of 
 order, but entirely through want of restraint and order; 
 
 | for that the whole difference whether of excess or inferiority 
 I in influence and action is not occasioned by the direction 
 of the effort of the motion itself (which begets a whole), but 
 from the force and curb of the opposite nature. That the 
 diversity, multiplicity, and even perplexity of operation is 
 owing altogether to one of these three; the power of heat, 
 the arrangement of the matter, or the mode of its reduction; 
 
 I 
 
04 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 which three have nevertheless an inherent and mutual con¬ 
 nexion and causality. That heat itself differs in power, 
 quantity, speed, mean, and succession: that succession 
 itself is varied in most bodies by tendency to approach or 
 recede, whether by greater or less effort, by sudden motion, 
 by gradual, or by return or repetition through greater and 
 less intervals, and by changes of this kind. That calorics 
 are therefore of a vast diversity in their nature and power, 
 according to their purity and impurity, respect being had to 
 their first source, the sun. Nor does heat cherish every kind 
 of heat: but after they differ mutually a good number of 
 degrees, they mutually destroy themselves not less than 
 cold natures, and assume their peculiar powers of action, 
 and are opposed to the acts the one of the other; so that 
 Telesius makes the less with respect to the much greater 
 caloric natures to hold the place as it were of traitors and 
 conspirators with the cold against them. And so that 
 vivid heat, which is in fire and darts, utterly destroys that 
 slight heat which seems to glide secretly in water; and in 
 like manner the preternatural heat of putrid humors suf¬ 
 focates and extinguishes natural heat: but that there is a 
 great difference as to the fulness of a body of heat, is too 
 plain to need explanation. For one or two coals of fire do 
 not throw out such a warmth as many do together; and 
 that the effect of the fulness of heat is remarkably shown 
 in the multiplication of the sun's heat through the reflection 
 of his rays; for the number of his rays is doubled through 
 simple reflection, multiplied though various. But to the 
 quantity or copiousness of heat there should be ascribed or 
 added also its union, which is best seen by the obliquity 
 and perpendicular of rays, with which the nearer the direct 
 and reflex ray meets, and toward the acuter angles, the 
 greater degree of heat it sends forth in proportion. Nay 
 even the Sun himself, when amongst those greater and 
 more potent fires of the fixed stars, the Serpent, the Bog- 
 star, Spica, emit greater heat. But that the delay of 
 heat is evidently an operation of the greatest moment, 
 since all the influences of nature have respect to times, 
 so as that some time is required to the putting its in¬ 
 fluences into action, and a considerable time to the giving 
 them strength. That so the delay of heat turns equal heat 
 into progressive and unequal, because the antecedent and 
 subsequent heat is joined at the same time; that that is 
 apparent in the autumnal heats because they are perceived 
 to be more ardent in the solstitial heats, and in the after- 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 65 
 
 noons of summer because they are found to be more ardent 
 in the middays of those seasons; also, that in colder 
 regions the feebleness of the heat is sometimes compen¬ 
 sated by the delay and length of the summer days; but 
 that the power and efficacy of the mean is remarkable in 
 the conveyance of heat. For that hence the temperature 
 of the seasons is very various, so that the atmosphere is 
 found, by an inconstancy that is discoverable, to be some¬ 
 times cold in summer days, sometimes moist in winter 
 days, the sun in the mean while preserving his legitimate 
 course and ordinary distance; that the corn and vine are 
 more changed by the south winds and a stormy sky; and 
 that the whole position and emission of the atmosphere, at 
 one time pestilential and morbid, at another genial and 
 healthful, according to the various revolutions of the year, 
 has its rise from this, namely, from the varying of the 
 medium of the air, which gathers its diverse disposition 
 from the very vicissitude and alteration of the seasons, 
 perhaps in a long series. But that as there is a multifold 
 ratio, so is there a very great virtue of the succession of 
 heat, and of the order in which heat follows heat. For 
 that the sun could not send out so numerous and prolific 
 a generation, unless the configuration of the body of the 
 sun moving toward the earth, and the parts of the earth, 
 were a partaker of the very great inequality and variation; 
 for the sun is moved both in a circle and rapidly, and 
 obliquely, and recalls itself, so as to be both absent and 
 present, both nearer and more remote, and more perpen¬ 
 dicular and more oblique, and returning swifter and slower, 
 so as that the heat emanating from the sun is never 
 the same, nor ever recovers itself in a little while (except¬ 
 ing under the tropics); so that so great a variation of the 
 power generating admirably agrees with this so great varia¬ 
 tion in that which is generated. To which can be added 
 the very diverse nature of the medium or vehicle. That 
 the other circumstances asserted of the inequality and 
 degrees of heat alone, can be referred to the vicissitudes 
 and varieties of succession in different heats. That Aris¬ 
 totle therefore rightly attributed the generation and corrup¬ 
 tion of things to the oblique path of the sun, making that 
 as it were their efficient cause, if he had not indeed cor¬ 
 rupted the truth he discovered, through his unbounded 
 rage for uttering decisions and of making himself the law¬ 
 giver of nature, and of adapting and of settling all things 
 so as To make them harmonize with his dogmas. For that 
 VOL. xv. F 
 
66 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 he ought to have assigned generation and corruption (which 
 is never entirely privative, but is productive of a second 
 generation) to the inequality of the sun’s heat, according 
 to the whole that is of the approaching and receding of 
 the sun jointly, not the generation to the approaching, 
 the corruption to the receding separately, which he did, 
 blunderingly and following the vulgar error. But if any 
 should think it strange that the generation of things is 
 attributed to the sun, when it is asserted that the sun is 
 fire, but fire generates nothing, this, saith he, is a ground¬ 
 less objection: for that which is asserted respecting a 
 heterogeneous nature of the heats of the sun and of fire, is 
 a mere phantasy. For that the operations are infinite in 
 which the action of the sun and the action of fire come 
 together, as in the ripening of fruits, the conservation of 
 tender plants, and of those which are used to a clement 
 temperature; in cold regions, in the hatching of eggs, the 
 restoration of waters to their clearness (for we join the 
 solar and animal heat), in the resuscitation of frozen ani- 
 malculse, in the calling of them up, and of vapours and the 
 like. But nevertheless that our fire is a bad imitator, and 
 does not well imitate the actions of the sun or come near 
 them, since the sun’s heat hath three properties, which 
 common fire can but poorly imitate under any circum¬ 
 stances. First, that from its distance it is less and more 
 bland in its very degree; but that this of a kind imitable 
 in some way; for such a measure of heat is rather un¬ 
 known than unattainable. Secondly, that in flowing and 
 increasing through so many and such media it borrows and 
 obtains a considerable degree of generative influence; but 
 chiefly because it is increased, lessened, advances or re¬ 
 tires with so regular an inequality, but never succeeds to 
 itself capriciously or with haste. Which two last proper¬ 
 ties are almost inimitable by fire, though the thing may be 
 accomplished by very considerate and laborious measures. 
 Such are the assertions of Telesius on the diversity of 
 heats. 
 
 But he scarcely takes any notice of the contrary principle 
 of cold and of its distribution; except perhaps what will 
 be now said in the second place on the disposition of matter, 
 might seem to him to suffice upon this head, which, never¬ 
 theless, he ought not to have supposed, since it was not 
 his mind to make cold by any means the privation of heat, 
 but as an active principle its rival and competitor. But 
 his dissertations on the arrangement of matter go to show 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 67 
 
 how matter is affected by heat, subdued or changed by it, 
 the subject of cold being entirely overlooked. But I will 
 add what he could, on his principles, have said respecting 
 this subject, for it is my desire to go through, and with im¬ 
 partiality, the theories and suppositions of all the philoso¬ 
 phers. He could have said that the seat of cold, being- 
 fixed and unmoved, most admirably agreed with the mobile 
 and versatile structure of heat, as the anvil to the hammer. 
 For if both principles were possessed of variation and 
 change, they would doubtless produce contrary and momen- 
 taneous entities. That the immense regions of heat (that is 
 the heavens), moreover, were in some degree compensated by 
 the compact nature of the globe of the earth and circumjacent 
 bodies, since not the space but the quantity of matter in the 
 space is taken into the account, but that the nature of 
 cold, its powers and proportions need but few words, since 
 experience does not furnish us with any certain deductions 
 respecting it. We have, therefore, our common fire, the 
 representative, as it were, of the sun, to show to us the 
 nature of heat. But there is no substitution of the cold of the 
 earth, within man’s reach, for the trying experiments with. 
 For that those hardenings and congealings of snow which, in 
 winter and in cold regions, breathe themselves out into air 
 from the globe and circuit of the earth, are plainly warmths 
 and baths, owing to the nature of the first cold shut up in 
 the bowels of the earth; so that the cold, which is in the 
 power and under the perception of men, is something like 
 as if they had no other heat than that which emanates from 
 the sun in summer, and in warm regions; which, if com¬ 
 pared with the fire of a heated furnace, may be deemed 
 refreshing coolness. But I shall take up less time upon 
 those things that are pretended on this subject. We will 
 inquire, therefore, in order into the nature of what Telesius 
 has asserted respecting the arrangement of matter upon 
 which heat acts ; the power of which is such as to advance, 
 impede, or change the action itself of heat. The ratio of 
 this is fourfold. The first difference is taken from the pre- 
 inexistent heat or nonpreinexistent heat; the second from 
 the abundance or the scarcity of the matter; the third 
 from the degrees of the reduction; the fourth from the 
 closing or opening of the body reduced. As for the first, 
 Telesius supposes in all entities known to us, that there 
 exists a certain latent heat, though not subject to the touch, 
 which heat is joined with a new or overspreading heat; 
 moreover, that itself is excited and inflamed by the same 
 
G8 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 adventitious heat to the performing its acts even in its pro¬ 
 per measure. He esteems it a considerable proof of this, 
 that there is no one entity, neither metal, stone, water, nor 
 air, which does not acquire warmth by touch, and also by 
 the application of fire or of a warm body. Which would 
 not surely be the case, unless there were a preinexistent 
 heat of a certain latent preparation for a new and manifest 
 heat. That even that excess or diminution, or facility and 
 slowness, which are found in the conceiving of heat in en¬ 
 tities, agrees with the measure of the preinexistent heat; 
 that the air grows warm by a small heat, and such as is 
 quite imperceptible in an aqueous body; also that water is 
 more easily endued with warmth than a stone, or metal, or 
 glass. For that any of these, as a metal or a stone, should 
 appear to acquire warmth sooner than water, that is, only 
 on the surface, not within the body, because consistent 
 bodies are less communicable in their parts than liquids. 
 That, therefore, the outermost parts of a metal are sooner 
 warmed than those of water, the whole bulk later. The 
 second difference is made to depend upon the coacervation 
 and extension of matter. If it be dense, the strength of the 
 heat is more united, and through the union increased and 
 made more intense; if on the other hand it be looser, the 
 strength is more dispersed, and through the dispersion 
 weakened. That the heat, therefore, of unknown metals is 
 more powerful than of boiling water, nay, than of flame it¬ 
 self, unless that the flame would, from its subtle nature, 
 pierce more. For that the flame of coals or of fuel, unless 
 roused by wind, so as through motion to penetrate more 
 easily, is not very violent; nay, that some flames (as of 
 spirit of wine, especially if inflamed, and in a small quan¬ 
 tity and dispersed) is of so mild a heat, as to be endurable 
 by the hand. The third difference, which is taken from the 
 reduction of matter, is manifold; for he makes seven de¬ 
 grees of reduction, of which the first is milder, which is the 
 arrangement of matter, showing the body in some degree 
 yielding to greater violence, and especially susceptible of 
 extension, in fine flexible or ductile. The second is soft¬ 
 ness, when there is no need of greater force, but the body 
 yields even by a light impulsion and to the touch, or the 
 hand itself, without any apparent resistance. The third is 
 viscosity or tenacity, which is in a high degree the prin¬ 
 ciple of fluidity. For a viscous body seems to begin to 
 flow and go on at the contact and embrace of another body, 
 and not to come to an end of itself, although it does not 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 69 
 
 flow willingly and of itself ; for the fluid easily follows it¬ 
 self, but is more viscous with respect to another body. 
 The fourth is the fluid itself, when the body partaking of 
 the interior spirit is in willing motion and follows itself, and 
 is not easily bounded or brought to a stand. The fifth is 
 vapour, when a body is attenuated till it becomes intangible, 
 which yields, flows, undulates, and becomes tremulous, 
 with a greater agility and mobility. The sixth is breath¬ 
 ing, which is a certain vapour more concocted, and ma¬ 
 tured, and subdued, so as to be capable of receiving the 
 nature of fire. The seventh is the air itself, but Telesius 
 contends that the air is endued with a native heat, and that 
 considerable and very powerful, for that in the coldest 
 regions the air is never congealed or condensed: and that 
 another proof of this is, that all air that is confined and 
 separated from the main body of air, and left to itself, evi¬ 
 dently collects heat, as in wool and fibrous substancesand 
 that the air in confined situations is found to suffocate 
 respiration, which is the consequence of its heat ; and that 
 this arises from the confined air beginning to exert its own 
 nature, since the air out of doors, and under the open sky, 
 is cooled by the cold which the globe of the earth is con¬ 
 stantly emitting and exhaling: and also that our common 
 air hath a certain celestial property, since it in some degree 
 partakes of light; which appears from the power of those 
 animals which can see in the night and in dark places. 
 And such, according to Telesius, is the order of the arrange¬ 
 ment of matter, in the means, to wit, since the extremes, 
 although on one side hard bodies, and on the other fire 
 itself, are not reckoned as the limits of the means. But be¬ 
 sides these simple degrees, he searches out a great diversity 
 in the arrangement of matter according to the similarity or 
 dissimilarity of the body, since portions of mattercompounded 
 and united in one body can be referred equally either to one 
 of the beforementioned degrees, or unequally to different. 
 For that a very great difference follows thence in the opera¬ 
 tion of heat. And that so a fourth difference is necessarily 
 brought in from the nature and even position of a body upon 
 which heat acts, whether close or porous and open. For 
 when heat operates in an open and exposed situation, it 
 does so in order and severally, by attenuating and at the 
 same time by drawing out and separating. But when in a 
 confined and compact body, it operates in the mass, not 
 putting out any heat, but by the new and the old heat 
 uniting and conspiring, whence it follows that it causes 
 
70 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 more powerful, intrinsic, and subtle alterations and reduc¬ 
 tions. But more will be said on this subject when we come 
 to treat of the method of reduction. But in the meanwhile 
 Telesius is fully occupied, and is strangely put to it to ac¬ 
 count for the method of the divorce and separation of their 
 primary connatural qualities, heat, light, tenuity, and mo¬ 
 bility, and the four opposite qualities, as they happen to be 
 in bodies: since some bodies are found to be warm or ad¬ 
 mirably prepared to receive warmth, and yet to be at the 
 same time dense, motionless, and dark; others are found 
 to be subtle, mobile, lucid, or white, and yet cold; and so 
 of the rest, one certain quality to wit existing in some 
 things, whilst the remaining qualities are not in accordance 
 with it; but others participate in two of these natures, but 
 are without other two, by a very singular exchange and 
 intercourse. And this part Telesius does not skilfully ma¬ 
 nage, but carries himself like his opponents; who making 
 their conjectures before their experiments, when they come 
 to the particular subjects themselves, abuse their talents 
 and their subjects, and wretchedly pervert both, and are 
 yet admirably dexterous and successful (if you believe their 
 own words), in whatever way they explain themselves. 
 But he concludes the subject in despair, intimating that 
 although the quantity and copiousness of heat and the 
 arrangement of the matter can be marked out in a vague 
 manner and in the mass, that yet their accurate and exact 
 proportions and their distinct measures are out of the reach 
 of human inquiry: yet so that (by what manner is placed 
 among the things that cannot be settled) the diversity of 
 the disposition of matter can be better known than the 
 strength and degrees of heat, and that yet in these very 
 things is placed (if any where) the highest point of human 
 knowledge and power. But after a plain acknowledgment 
 of despair, he still goes further than mere wishes and 
 prayers for more certainty. For so he said; “ What heat 
 moreover or quantity, that is, what strength of heat, and 
 what quantity of it, that is which turns, and how it turns 
 the earth, and those things that are entities into such 
 bodies as itself, is not to be inquired into, since we have 
 no means of coming to this knowledge. For on what 
 principle shall it be allowed us to distribute the strength 
 of heat, and heat itself as it were into degrees, or to per¬ 
 ceive clearly the copiousness and quantity of matter which 
 is endowed with it, and to assign a certain quantity, dis¬ 
 position, and certain actions of matter to certain and deter- 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 71 
 
 minate powers and copiousness of heat, or, on the contrary, 
 to assign a fixed and certain copiousness of heat to a certain 
 quantity and certain actions of matter : Oh, that this might 
 be obtained by those who have both time and intellect at 
 command adequate to this investigation, and who could, 
 in the possession of the most perfect tranquillity search 
 into nature; that mankind might not only become then 
 masters of every kind of knowledge, but almost of every 
 kind of power. This, indeed, is said with more honesty 
 than is found in his opponents, who, if they cannot attain 
 their objects, affirm that their attainment is impossible from 
 the nature of the art or object itself, so that no art can be 
 condemned, since itself is both pleader and judge. There 
 remains that which was the third, namely, the method of 
 reduction. This Telesius dispatches by a threefold sen¬ 
 tence. The first is that which we noticed by the way 
 before, that no symbolization is understood (as in the doc¬ 
 trine of the Peripatetics) through which substances, by an 
 agreement, as it were, are nourished, and act in unison: 
 for that all generation, and every effect in a natural body 
 is the result of victory and predominance, not of agreement 
 or treaty. This, indeed, is no new T dogma, since Aristotle 
 remarked it in the doctrine of Empedocles; for that Empe¬ 
 docles, indeed, though he maintains contention and amity 
 to be the efficient principles of things, yet in his explica¬ 
 tions of causes generally makes use of their contention, and 
 seems to forget their amity. The second is that heat by its 
 own proper action constantly changes a substance into 
 moisture, and that dryness by no means coalesces with 
 heat, nor moisture with cold; for that to attenuate and to 
 moisten is the same, and that what is extremely thin is also 
 extremely moist; if through humid be understood that 
 which very easily yields, is divided into parts, again reco¬ 
 vers itself and is with difficulty limited or made to settle. 
 All which are more the properties of fire than of air, which 
 is for the most part moist, according to the Peripatetics; 
 and that so heat continually draws, feeds upon, extends, 
 inserts, and generates humidity; that cold, on the contrary, 
 acts altogether on dryness, concretion, and hardness; where 
 Aristotle deems him deficient in acuteness, and inconsistent, 
 and impatient of the decisions of experience, in joining heat 
 with dryness. For that the drying of substances by heat 
 is accidental merely ; namely, in a dissimilar body, and 
 that is composed of some parts more thick, of others more 
 thin, by drawing out, and (by means of attenuation) giving 
 
72 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 vent to the thinner part, till the thicker part is forced 
 thence, and compresses itself more; which thicker part, 
 nevertheless, if a rather violent heat comes, flows also of 
 itself, as is evident in bricks: for, in the first place, heat, 
 not so fervent, makes the loam into bricks on the thinner 
 part having evaporated; but a more powerful heat even dis¬ 
 solves that bricky substance into glass. And these two 
 dogmata can be considered as the answers to errors; the 
 third plainly affirms, and not only so, but clearly distin¬ 
 guishes the method of reduction. This is twofold, either 
 by rejection or conversion : and one or other of these modes 
 is brought out into act, according to the power of the heat, 
 and the arrangement of matter. But two canons belong to 
 this subject. The one is, that when heat and cold concur in 
 vast bulk, and as it were with any even force, an ejection fol¬ 
 lows# For entities, like armies, are moved from their place 
 and thrust forward. But when it takes place in a less 
 quantity, then a conversion follows: for the entities are 
 destroyed, and lose rather their nature than their place. 
 There is a remarkable exemplification of this in the higher 
 regions of the air, which, although they come nearer to the 
 celestial heat, are yet found colder than the confines of the 
 earth. For in those regions, after arriving nearer to the 
 seat of the prime heat, the heat, collecting itself, at once 
 casts down, and thrusts ofl^ and hinders from approach the 
 whole power of the cold which had ascended. He saith 
 that the same thing, moreover, may happen, that there 
 may be through the depths of the earth greater heats than 
 on the surface; to wit, after the approach to the seat of 
 the prime cold, which rousing itself throws off the heat 
 with great force, and avoids it, and returns into its own 
 nature. The second canon is that in an open body ejec¬ 
 tion in a close conversion follows. He asserts that this is 
 notably instanced in closed vessels, where the emission of 
 an attenuated body (which we commonly call spirit) being 
 restrained, begets deep and intrinsical alterations and fer¬ 
 mentations in bodies; but that this takes place in like man¬ 
 ner when a body, from its parts being compacted, is to 
 itself like a closed vessel. Such are the opinions of Tele- 
 sius, and, perhaps, of Parmenides, on the elements of 
 things, excepting that Telesius added, of his own accord, 
 Hyle , through his being led astray by the Peripatetic 
 notions. 
 
 And the opinions of Telesius might indeed have an air 
 of probability if man were taken out of nature together 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 73 
 
 with the mechanical arts which try matter, and if we 
 simply looked to the fabric of the world. For it is a kind 
 of pastoral philosophy, which tranquilly and as it were at 
 ease contemplates the world. For, indeed, he is not amiss 
 in laying down the mundane system, but miserably fails 
 upon the subject of the elements. And there is, indeed, in 
 his system itself a great failure, in its being supposed 
 capable of an eternal nature, the idea of a chaos and the 
 mutations of the universal scheme of things being alto¬ 
 gether omitted. For that philosophy, whether of Telesius 
 or of the Peripatetics, or any other which so prepares and 
 furnishes its system as not to derive it from chaos, is 
 evidently of slight foundation, and altogether conceived 
 from the narrowness of human imagination. For so in 
 entire accordance w T ith sense doth the philosopher assert 
 the eternity of matter, and deny that of the world (as the 
 world appears to us), which was the opinion of the wisest 
 ancients, and to which opinion Democritus seems to have 
 approached. And this is also the testimony of scripture; 
 but with this great difference, that the scriptures derive 
 the origin of matter from God, the philosophers from itself. 
 For w r e gather from our faith three dogmas on this point ; 
 first, that matter was formed from nothing; secondly, that 
 the production of the system was through the word of 
 omnipotence, and not that matter endued itself wdth form 
 and of itself came forth from chaos; thirdly, that before 
 the fall that form was the best of those which matter (such 
 as it was created) could take : but to none of these dogmas 
 could these philosophical theories ascend. For they shudder 
 at the thoughts of a creation from nothing, and deem that 
 this form of things was produced after many windings and 
 attempts of matter, nor are they troubled as to conceiving 
 of the most excellent kind of system, since theirs is 
 asserted to be liable to decline and to change. We must 
 then rest upon the decisions of faith and upon its supports. 
 But perhaps we need not inquire whether that created 
 matter, after a long course of ages, from the power at first 
 put into it could gather and change itself into that most 
 excellent form (which, leaving these windings, it did imme¬ 
 diately at the command of the divine word). For the 
 representation of time and the formation of a substance are 
 equally miraculous effects of the same omnipotence. But 
 the divine nature seems to have designed glorifying itself 
 equally in either emanation : first, by omnipotently working 
 upon ens and matter by creating substance from nothing; 
 
74 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 secondly, upon motion and time, by anticipating the order 
 of nature and accelerating the process of substance. But 
 these pertain to the parable of heaven, where we will discuss 
 more fully what we are now just intimating: and so we go 
 on to the elements of Telesius. And here I wish it had been 
 universally and at once agreed upon not to fetch entities 
 out of nonentities and elements out of nonelements, and 
 so to fall into manifest contradiction. But an abstract 
 element is not an ens; again, a mortal entity is not an 
 element; so that a necessity plainly invincible drives men 
 (if they would be consistent) to the idea of an atom, which 
 is a true ens, having matter, form, dimension, place, an¬ 
 titype, appetite, motion, and emanation. It at the same 
 time remains unshaken and eternal during the dissolution 
 of all natural bodies. For since there are so many and 
 various corruptions taking place in greater bodies, it is re¬ 
 quisite that what remains as the centre immutable, should 
 either be a somewhat potential or very small. But it is 
 not potential, for the first potential cannot be like the rest 
 which are potential, which are one thing in act, another 
 thing in power. But it is requisite that it should be plainly 
 abstract, since it refuses all act and contains all power. 
 And so it remains that this immutable should be of the 
 smallest size; unless perchance some one will assert that 
 no elements exist, but that one thing serves for elements 
 to another, that the law and order of mutation are things 
 constant and eternal, that the essence itself is inconstant 
 and mutable. And it would indeed be better plainly to 
 make an assertion of this sort, than in laying down some 
 eternal principle to fall into the still greater absurdity of 
 making that principle a phantastic one. For that first 
 method seems to have some design and end, that things 
 should be changed into the world, but this, none, which for 
 entities adopts mere notions and mental abstractions. And 
 yet the impossibility of this being the case I shall hereafter 
 show. Yet his Hyle pleased Telesius, which he transferred 
 from a later age after the birth of Parmenides’ philosophy. 
 But Telesius instituted an evidently unaccountable and 
 unequal contest between his elements in action, whether 
 you consider their forces or their kind of war. For, as to 
 their forces, the earth is alone, but the heaven has a great 
 army; the earth is as a little speck, the heaven hath its 
 immense regions. Nor can it relieve this difficulty that the 
 earth and its connaturals are asserted to be of the most 
 compact matter, and the heaven and etherial substances on 
 
the other hand, of the most expanded. For although this 
 indeed is a very essential difference, yet it will by no means 
 equalize the forces even with so great an intermediate 
 space. But the strength of the opinion of Telesius turns 
 chiefly upon this, if an equal portion as it were of Ilyle 
 (according to the quantum, not according to the expansion) 
 be assigned to both acting elements, so that the things can 
 last, and the system be made and established. For who¬ 
 ever will think with Telesius on other points, and will 
 receive the surpassing power of Ilyle, especially in so great 
 an excess, in one principle compared with another, will in¬ 
 volve himself in an inextricable difficulty. In the dialogue, 
 therefore, of Plutarch, “ De facie in orbe lunae/' this con¬ 
 sideration is very wisely proposed, that it is improbable 
 .that nature in the dispersion of matter shut up the pro¬ 
 perties of a compact body into the sole globe of the earth, 
 when there were in the mean time so many revolving- 
 bodies in the heavens. Yet Gilbertus indulged to such 
 excess in this imagination as to assert that not only the 
 earth and the moon but many other solid and opaque globes 
 were scattered amongst the bodies of light through the 
 expanse of heaven. Nay, the Peripatetics themselves, after 
 they had made the heavens eternal through their own con¬ 
 dition, and things sublunary by succession and renovation, 
 did not imagine that they had sufficiently guarded their 
 tenet till they assigned to the elements as it were equal 
 portions of matter. For this is that which they fable 
 concerning that tenfold portion by which the surrounding 
 element is superior to the inner element. But I do not 
 bring these things forward, because none of them are to my 
 mind, but to show that it is perfectly improbable and 
 unnatural to maintain with Telesius that the earth is a 
 principle acting in contrariety to the heavens. And the 
 difficulty will be greatly increased if besides the quantum 
 itself we consider the unequal influence and action of the 
 heaven and the earth. For the condition of contest must 
 be lost altogether, if the attack of the hostile weapons be 
 borne by the one side, but do not reach the other, but fall 
 first. But it is plain that the power of the sun is projected 
 toward the earth, but none can promise that the influence 
 of the earth ever reaches the sun. For of all the influences 
 of nature, the influence of light and shade is conveyed to 
 the greatest distance and is circumfused with the greatest 
 space or orbit. But the shade of the earth is bounded on 
 this side the sun, whilst the light of the sun, if the earth 
 
76 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 were transparent, could beat across the globe of the earth. 
 Heat and cold, in particular (of which we are now treating),, 
 are never found to overcome so great a space in the con¬ 
 veyance of their influence, as light and shade. Therefore, 
 if the shade of the earth does not reach the sun, much less 
 is it in accordance with this to suppose that the cold of the 
 earth travels thither. If indeed the sun and heat acted 
 upon certain mediate bodies, whether the influence of a 
 contrary principle could not ascend, or by any means 
 hinder their action, it is requisite that the sun and heat 
 should occupy whatever are the nearest bodies to them, and 
 then should join also the more remote, so that in time the 
 conflagration of Heraclitus should take place by the solar 
 and celestial” nature gradually descending, and making a 
 nearer approach to the earth and its confines. Nor does 
 this well harmonize, that that power of imparting and 
 multiplying its own nature and of turning other things 
 into itself, which Telesius attributes to the elements, should 
 not operate on similar equally or more than opposite bodies ; 
 so that the heaven ought already to be lit up and the stars 
 to be engaged in mutual conflict. But, to come nearer the 
 point, those four demonstrations ought to be set forth, 
 which even singly, much more conjointly, can evidently 
 subvert the philosophy of Telesius respecting the elements. 
 Of these, the first is that there are found in things some 
 actions and effects, even of things the most potent and 
 the most widely diffused, which cannot by any means be 
 referred to heat and cold. The second is, that there are 
 found some natures of which heat and cold are the conse¬ 
 quences and effects, and that not through the excitation of 
 preinexistent heat, or through the application of heat ap¬ 
 proximating to them, but through those things by which 
 heat and cold are infused and generated in their first esse. 
 The ground of an element, therefore, fails in either side in 
 them, both because there is a something not from them, and 
 because themselves are from something. The third is, that 
 even those which derive their origin from heat and cold 
 (which certainly are very many), yet proceed from them as 
 from an efficient and organs, not as from their proper and 
 nearest source. Fourthly, that that conjugation of the four 
 connaturals is altogether blended and confused. There¬ 
 fore I will speak of these singly. But some may think the 
 time misspent in so minute an examination of the philosophy 
 of Telesius, a philosopher of no great popularity or celebrity. 
 But the fastidiousness of such objectors I dismiss. I have 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 77 
 
 a favourable opinion of Telesius, and recognize in him a 
 lover of truth, a profitable servant of science, a reformer of 
 some tenets, and the first indeed of the moderns. Nor have 
 I to do with him so much as Telesius as in his character 
 of restorer of the philosophy of Parmenides, and as such 
 he is entitled to great regard. But my chief reason for so 
 largely discussing this part of our subject is, that in Tele¬ 
 sius, who is the first who meets our view, we find occasion 
 to consider very many subjects which can be transferred, 
 as replies to following sects (of whom we shall hereafter 
 speak) to avoid repetition. For there are fibres of errors 
 (though of different kinds) wonderfully complicated, which 
 can yet in many instances be cut aw T ay by one answer. 
 But as we began to say, we must see what kind of influ¬ 
 ences and actions are found in things which cannot by 
 , any concord of things or violence of ingenuity be referred 
 to heat and cold. We must assume then, in the first 
 place, what is granted by Telesius, that the sum of matter 
 remains eternally the same without increase or ditninution. 
 This property, by which matter preserves and sustains 
 itself, he transmits as passive, and as it were pertaining 
 more to the measure of quantity than to form and action, 
 as if there were no need of reckoning it to heat or cold, 
 which are considered the sources of acting forms only and 
 influences, for that matter is not simply but altogether des¬ 
 titute of active influence. And these assertions flow from 
 an incredible error, unless the miracle be removed by its 
 having been an inveterate and general opinion. For there 
 is scarcely any error similar than that a person should not 
 deem the active influence that virtue infused into matter, 
 (through which it is kept from decay, so that the very 
 least portion of matter is not buried in the whole bulk of 
 the world, nor destroyed by the power of all the active 
 influences, or in any way annihilated, and can be reduced 
 to order; nay, can occupy a portion of space and preserve 
 resistance with impenetrable dimension, and itself by turns 
 be capable of some action, and not forsake itself). When, 
 on the contrary, it is by far the most potent of all in¬ 
 fluences, and evidently insuperable and as it were a mere 
 fate and necessity. Yet this virtue Telesius does not 
 attempt to refer to heat or cold. And rightly so: for nei¬ 
 ther do fire or numbness and congelation add or detract 
 any thing from it nor have any power over it, when it yet 
 meanwhile flourishes in the sun, at the centre of the earth 
 and every where. But he seems to fail, in that he recog- 
 
78 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 nizes a certain and defined bulk of matter, is blind to that 
 influence which should defend itself and preserve itself in 
 its several parts, and (as it were be clouded in the darkest 
 shades of the Peripatetics) puts that in the place of an 
 accessory, when it is mainly the principal, poising its own 
 body, removing another, solid and adamantine in itself, 
 and whence emanate by an inviolable authority the de¬ 
 crees of the possible and the impossible. In the same 
 manner the vulgar school puerilely catches at it with an 
 easy grasp of words, imagining that the j udgment is satis¬ 
 fied by making a canon of the impossibility of two bodies 
 occupying the same space, but does not take into actual and 
 full consideration that influence and the measure of which 
 we speak ; overlooking how much depends upon it and 
 how great a light would thence be thrown upon science. 
 But to our point, that influence, whatever is its nature, is 
 not comprehended in the elements of Telesius. We must 
 now pass to that influence itself, which is as it were the 
 antistrophe to this former, that namely which preserves 
 the connexion of matter. For as matter will not suffer 
 itself to be overwhelmed and perish by matter, so neither 
 can it be separated from matter. And yet it is very 
 doubtful whether this law of nature is equally peremptory 
 with that other. 
 
 But Telesius like Democritus supposed a vacuum heaped 
 together and unbounded, that each ens singly might lay 
 down its contiguous ens, and sometimes desert it involun¬ 
 tarily and with difficulty (as they say), but with a greater 
 and a subdued violence, and he endeavoured to demon¬ 
 strate this by sundry experiments, adducing especially 
 those things which are cited here and there for the deny¬ 
 ing and refuting of a vacuum, and drawing out and en¬ 
 larging these in such a manner as that the ens may appear 
 to keep that contiguity by being placed in a certain light 
 necessity; but that if they were very much agitated they 
 would admit a vacuum; as in water-hourglasses, in which 
 if there be rather a small aperture through which the water 
 can descend, they will want a spiracle for the water to 
 descend; but if a larger foramen even without a spiracle, 
 the water being incumbent with a greater bulk on the 
 foramen, and in no way impeding the vacuum above, is 
 carried downwards. So in bellows, in which if you com¬ 
 press and shut them so that there be left no place for the 
 air to glide in, and you afterward elevate and expand them, 
 if the skin of the bellows be slight and weak, it will break, 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 79 
 
 not. so if very thick and firm; and other experiments in 
 like manner. But these experiments are neither exactly 
 proved, nor are they quite satisfactory, nor conclusive on 
 the question, and though Telesius thinks he adds to dis¬ 
 coveries by means of them, and endeavours after a more 
 subtle discernment of what others have seen but confusedly, 
 yet he does not come off equal to his subject, nor educe a 
 true conclusion, but fails in the means : the misfortune 
 indeed of Telesius and the Peripatetics, who in looking 
 into experiments are like owls, not through the inefficiency 
 of their faculties, but through the cataracts of opinions and 
 impatience of fixed and full contemplation. But the very 
 difficult question how far a vacuum is to be admitted, and 
 with respect to what spaces there can be a coition or sepa¬ 
 ration of seeds, and what there is on this head that is 
 peremptory and invariable, I leave to my dissertation on 
 the vacuum. Nor does it relate much to my present pur¬ 
 pose whether nature utterly abhors a vacuum, or (as Tele¬ 
 sius imagines himself to speak more accurately) entities 
 delight in mutual contact. This we hold to be plain that 
 whether it be avoidance of a vacuum or inclination to con¬ 
 tact does not in any degree depend on heat and cold, nor 
 does Telesius assert that it doth, nor can it be so ascribed 
 from any appearance in the things themselves: since mat¬ 
 ter moved from its place attracts doubtless other matter, 
 whether that be hot or cold, liquid or dry, hard or soft, 
 friendlv or adverse, so that a warm would sooner attract the 
 coldest body to come to it, than suffer itself to be disjoined 
 from and deserted by every kind of body. For the bond of 
 matter is stronger than the aversion of heat and cold: and the 
 sequacity of matter has no respect to the diversity of special 
 forms; and so this influence of connexion is by no means 
 from those elements of heat and cold. The two influences 
 that are mutually opposite follow, which conferred (as may 
 be seen) this rule of elements upon heat and cold, but by 
 a right badly explicated. I mean those influences through 
 which entities open and rarify themselves, dilate and ex¬ 
 pand so as to occupy a greater space, and dispose them¬ 
 selves into a more extensive orbit; or, other hand, shut up 
 and condense themselves, so as to retire from the space 
 they occupied and betake themselves to a narrower sphere. 
 We must show, therefore, how far that influence hath its 
 rise in heat and cold, and how far it dwells apart, and has 
 a separate nature from that other influence. And that is 
 certainly true, which Telesius affirms, that rarity and den¬ 
 sity are, as it were, the peculiar works of heat and cold; 
 
80 
 
 FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 for the most essential requisite, in respect of these, is that 
 the bodies should occupy a greater and a less space ; but 
 yet these dogmas are received rather confusedly: for 
 bodies seem sometimes to migrate from one natural site to 
 another, and to transfer themselves, and that freely and, as 
 it were, willingly, and changing their forms; but sometimes 
 they seem only driven from their natural site, and to return 
 to their accustomed site, their old form remaining the same. 
 And that progressive influence entering on a new site is 
 commonly determined by heat and cold: but that other 
 restorative influence is not so. For water expands itself 
 into vapour and air, oil likewise, and fat substances, into 
 steam and flame, by the power of heat, and, if they have 
 completely transmigrated, do not return. Nay even the air 
 itself is dilated and extended by heat. But if the migration 
 shall have been half full after the departure of heat, it 
 easily falls back into itself; so as that there are also some 
 properties of heat and cold in the restorative influence itself. 
 But those which, without any intervening heat or violence, 
 are extended and divided, even without any addition of cold 
 or subtraction of heat, most readily are returned to their 
 former sites when the force ceases, as in the blowing of a 
 glass egg, and in the emptying of bellows. But that is far 
 more evident in solid and dense bodies. For if cloth, or a 
 string of an instrument be stretched, when the force is taken 
 away, they leap back with great swiftness, and the same is 
 the nature of compression. For the air, drawn together 
 and confined with some violence, breaks forth with a consi¬ 
 derable effort, and so the whole of that mechanical motion 
 by which a hard is struck by a hard body, which is com¬ 
 monly called the motion of force, through which solid bodies 
 are discharged, and fly through the air or water, is nothing 
 else than the contending of the parts of the discharged 
 body to free themselves from compression. And yet here 
 are no traces of heat and cold. Nor can any one take oc¬ 
 casion from Telesius to say, that a certain portion of heat 
 and cold is assigned to each natural site, according to a 
 fixed analogy. And that it can thus happen, that though 
 there be no additional heat or cold, yet if the space of the 
 body of matter be extended or contracted, the thing would 
 return to the same state, because more or less matter is laid 
 on the space than is in proportion to the heat or cold. But 
 these assertions, though not absolutely absurd, seem, never¬ 
 theless, like the imaginations of men unwilling to go from 
 their first opinions, and who do not follow reality and 
 nature. For if heat and cold be added to bodies thus ex- 
 
FABLE OF CUPID. 
 
 81 
 
 tended or compressed, and that in a greater degree accords 
 with the body itself, as if the stretched cloth be warmed at 
 the fire, it will not in any way make up for the thing, or 
 extinguish the impetus of recovery. We have then made 
 it plain that the influence of changing site does not depend, 
 in a remarkable degree, upon heat and cold, when yet this 
 is that very influence which assigns the greatest power to 
 these principles. Those two influences follow which are 
 universally recognised, through which bodies seek masses 
 or greater congregations of things connatural with them, in 
 observing of which, as of other subjects, men either trifle 
 or err. For the vulgar school thinks it sufficient to have 
 distinguished the natural from the forced motion, and to 
 give out that heavy bodies are, by a natural motion, borne 
 downward; light, upward. But these speculations are of 
 very little help to philosophy. For their “ nature,” “ art,” 
 “ force,” are only terms of terms and trifles. They should 
 refer this motion not only to nature, but should seek in this 
 very motion the particular and proper bias and inclination 
 of the natural body. For there are many other natural 
 motions, according to very different passive natures of 
 things from these. The subject therefore is to be laid down 
 according to these differences. Nay those very motions 
 which they call violent, are more truly natural than that 
 which they call natural; if that be more according to 
 nature which is more powerful, or even which is more of 
 a universal kind. For that motion of ascent and descent 
 is not very potent, nor even universal, but as it were pro¬ 
 vincial, and for certain regions, and even yielding and sub¬ 
 jected to other motions. Their saying that heavy bodies 
 are borne downward, light, upward, is no more than saying 
 that heavy are heavy, light, light bodies. For what is so 
 predicated is assumed from the very force of the term in 
 the subject. But if by heavy they mean dense, by light, 
 rare, they do not advance the subject, only they lead it 
 back rather to the adjunct and concomitant, than to the 
 cause. But they who so explain the bias of heavy bodies 
 as to assert that they are borne to the earth’s centre, and 
 light to the circumference and circuit of heaven, as to their 
 proper destinations, certainly advance something, and hint 
 at a cause, but yet with much inconsideration. For places 
 are not influences, nor is a body affected but by a body, 
 and every incitation of a body which seems to be seat 
 itself, affects and endeavours a configuration toward another 
 body, not collocation or simple site. A. T. B. 
 
 VOL. XV. 
 
 G 
 
TOPICS OF INQUIRY CONCERNING LIGHT 
 AND THE MATTER OF LIGHT. 
 
 i. Presence Tables. 
 
 We have first to note which are the substances, of whatever 
 kind, that generate light; as stars, fiery meteors, flame, 
 wood, metals, and other burning bodies, sugar in scraping 
 or breaking it, the glowworm, the dews of salt water when 
 it is agitated or scattered, the eyes of certain animals, some 
 sorts of rotten wood, large quantities of snow; perhaps the 
 air itself may possess a weak light adapted to the vision of 
 the animals which see by night; iron and tin, when put into 
 aqua fortis to be dissolved, boil, and without any fire pro¬ 
 duce intense heat, but whether or not they give out any 
 light demands inquiry; the oil of lamps sparkles in very 
 cold weather; a kind of faint light is sometimes observed 
 in a clear night around a horse that is sweating; around 
 the hair of certain persons, there is seen, though rarely, 
 also a faint light, like a lambent flamule, as occurred to 
 Lucius Martius in Spain; there was lately found an apron 
 of a certain woman which was said to shine, yet only when 
 rubbed ; but it had been dyed in green, of which dye alum 
 is an ingredient, and it rustled somewhat when shining. 
 Whether alum shines or not when scraped or broken is 
 matter of inquiry; but, I suppose, it requires more violent 
 breaking, because it is firmer than sugar. In like manner, 
 some stockings shine whilst you are pulling them off, 
 whether from sweat or the dye of alum. 
 
 ii. Absence Tables. 
 
 We must also observe which are the substances that give 
 no light, yet have much similitude to such as do produce 
 it. Boiling water does not give light; air though unusually 
 heated does not give light; mirrors and diamonds, which 
 so strikingly reflect light, give no light of their own. 
 
 In this kind of instances we have also to consider dili¬ 
 gently the instances migratory, namely, when light, as if 
 
TOPICS OF INQUIRY, ETC. 
 
 83 
 
 transient, is present, and when absent. A burning coal 
 gives light, but loses it instantly when strongly compressed ; 
 the crystalline humour of the glowworm, after the worm’s 
 death, even when broken and divided into parts, retains 
 light for a short time, which however soon after fades 
 away. 
 
 hi. Table of Degrees. 
 
 We must remark which sorts of light are more intense 
 and vibrating, which less: the flame of wood produces a 
 strong light; the flame of spirit of wine, a weaker; the 
 flame of coals when fully kindled, a very dim and scarcely 
 visible light. 
 
 iv. Colours of Light. 
 
 We have to consider the colours of light, what fliey are, 
 what not: some stars are white, others glittering, some red, 
 some lead-coloured; the common sorts of flame are gene¬ 
 rally croceous, and among these the coruscations from the 
 sky, and the sparks from flint, tend most to whiteness; the 
 flame of sulphur is ceruleous and beautiful; but in some 
 substances are purple flames. No green flames are ob¬ 
 served : what most inclines to greenness, is that of the glow¬ 
 worm. Neither are there any crimson flames discovered: 
 heated iron is red, but if heated somewhat more intensely, 
 it becomes as it were white. 
 
 v. Refections of Light. 
 
 We have to observe what bodies reflect light: as mirrors, 
 water, polished metals, the moon, precious stones. All 
 liquid bodies and such as have very equal smooth surfaces 
 are somewhat bright: but brightness is a certain small 
 degree of light. 
 
 We have to remark attentively, whether or not the light 
 of one lucid body can be reflected by another lucid body; 
 as if you took heated iron and opposed it to the sun’s rays. 
 For the reflections of light are reflected on, yet becoming 
 gradually feebler, from mirror to mirror. 
 
 vi. Multiplication of Light. 
 
 The multiplication of light must next be considered : as 
 by mirrors, perspectives, and the like, by which light may 
 be sharpened and thrown to a distance, or also rendered 
 subtler and softer for distinguishing visible objects ; as you 
 
84 
 
 TOPICS OF INQUIRY 
 
 may see among painters who use a phial filled with water 
 beside their candle. 
 
 Whether all bodies of any considerable size do not reflect 
 light, must also be considered. For light, as may be be¬ 
 lieved, either goes through or is reflected: from which 
 cause the moon, though it be an opaque body, may yet 
 reflect light by reason of its magnitude. 
 
 We must ascertain too whether or not the aggregation of 
 lucid bodies multiplies light. And in regard to bodies 
 equally lucid there is no doubt of this: but it remains for 
 inquiry whether or not a light, which is evidently overcome 
 and rendered of itself invisible by a greater light, doth not 
 yet add some light. Whatsoever is bright also contributes 
 somewhat of light, for an apartment is much lighter when 
 hung with silk than with cloth. Light is also multiplied 
 by refraction; for gems when cut into angles, and glass 
 when broken, shine much more than if they were smooth. 
 
 vii. Modes of destroying Light. 
 
 The modes of destroying light must also be remarked : 
 as by the exuperance of greater light, and by dense and 
 opaque mediums. The sun’s rays certainly, falling on the 
 flame of a fire, make the flame seem like a kind of whiter 
 smoke. 
 
 vin. Operations or Effects of Light. 
 
 We have to consider the operations or effects of light, 
 which, it seems, are few, and possess little power of changing 
 bodies, especially solids. Light above all things generates 
 itself, other qualities sparingly. Light doth certainly in 
 some measure attenuate the air, is grateful to the spirits of 
 animals, and exhilerates them; it excites the slumbering 
 rays of all colours and visible things, for every colour is 
 the broken image of light. 
 
 ix. Continuance of Light. 
 
 The continuance of light must be investigated; which, 
 as it appears, is momentary. For light doth not illuminate 
 an apartment more when it hath continued there for many 
 hours, than for any single moment; which is not so in 
 respect of heat, &c.; for the first portion of heat remains, 
 and a new one is added to it. Yet twilight is by some 
 thought to arise from the traces of the sun. 
 
CONCERNING LIGHT. 
 
 85 
 
 x. Ways and Progress of Light. 
 
 We have attentively to consider the ways and progress 
 of light. Light is shed around on all sides ; but it remains 
 for inquiry whether it at the same time ascends a little, or 
 is equally shed around upwards and downwards. The 
 light itself generates light every where around it; so that 
 when the body of light, on interposing a screen, is not dis¬ 
 cerned, yet the light itself illuminates every thing around, 
 except the objects which fall within the shadow of the 
 screen: these, however, receive some light from the light 
 which is thrown around; for any thing within the shadow 
 of the screen can be discerned much better than if no light 
 at all were present. Thus the visible body of any lucid 
 object, and the light itself, seem to be things different. 
 Light doth not penetrate bodies which are fibrous and of 
 unequal structure; but yet is not impeded by the solid 
 hardness of a substance, as you shall see in glass and the 
 like. Thus the straight line and the pores which are not 
 transverse, alone seem to transmit light. The best con¬ 
 ductor of light is air, which conveys light the better the 
 purer it is. It remains for inquiry whether or not light is 
 carried through the body of the air. Sounds certainly we see 
 carried by winds, so that they may be heard farther when 
 going with the wind than against it. But it remains for 
 inquiry whether or not any thing of the kind takes place 
 with light. 
 
 xi. Transparency of lucid Bodies. 
 
 We must alsoy inquire respecting the transparency of 
 lucid bodies. The wick of a candle is seen within the 
 flame; but through larger flames objects reach not the 
 sight. But again, all transparency is lost on heating any 
 body, as may be seen in glass, which is no longer trans¬ 
 parent when heated. The substance of air is transparent, 
 also of water; yet these two transparent substances when 
 mixed, as in snow or foam, are no longer transparent, but 
 acquire a certain light of their own. 
 
 xii. Cognations and Hostilities of Light. 
 
 The cognations, and also the hostilities of light must be 
 investigated. Light, as far as regards its production, has 
 most of all cognation with three things, heat, tenuity, and 
 motion. We must, therefore, consider the marriages and 
 divorces of these three with light, also the degrees of these 
 same marriages and divorces. The flame of spirit of wine 
 
 
86 
 
 TOPICS OF INQUIRY 
 
 or of an ignis fatuus, has a much feebler heat than red-hot 
 iron, but a stronger light. Glowworms, and the dews of 
 salt water, and many of the things which we mentioned, 
 throw out light, yet are not hot to the touch. Also burn¬ 
 ing metals are not subtle bodies, but yet they have an 
 ardent heat. But, on the other hand, air is one of the 
 subtlest bodies, yet it is void of light; again, this same air, 
 and also winds, though rapid in motion, afford no light. 
 But, on the other hand, burning metals do not lay aside 
 their sluggish motion, nevertheless vibrate light. 
 
 But in the cognations of light, which have no relation 
 to its production, but only to its progression, nothing is so 
 much allied to it as sound. To the sympathies and disa¬ 
 greements of the two we must therefore strictly direct our 
 attention. 
 
 In the following they agree: both light and sound are 
 diffused around on all sides. Light and sound are con¬ 
 veyed through very large spaces; but light more swiftly, 
 as we see in cannons, where the light is sooner discerned 
 than the sound is heard, although the flame follows after. 
 Both light and sound undergo the subtlest distinctions ; 
 as sounds in words articulate, and light in the images of 
 all visible objects. Light and sound produce or generate 
 almost nothing, except in the senses and spirits of animals. 
 Light and sound are easily generated, and soon fade away. 
 For there is no cause why any one should conceive that 
 the sound, which continues for some time after a bell or 
 chord has been struck, is produced at the moment of per¬ 
 cussion ; because, if you touch the bell or chord, the sound 
 instantly ceases, from which it is evident, that the continu¬ 
 ance of the sound is created by succession. One light is 
 destroyed by a greater, as one sound by a greater, 8tc. But 
 light and sound differ, in that light, as observed, is more 
 rapid than sound, and goes Over larger spaces: whether or 
 not light is conveyed in the body of the air, in the same 
 manner as sound, is uncertain: light proceeds in straight 
 lines only, but sound in crooked lines, and in all directions. 
 For where any thing is discerned in the shadow of a screen, 
 there is no cause to think that the light penetrates the 
 screen, but only that it illuminates the air around, which 
 from its nearness doth also somewhat illustrate the air 
 behind the screen. But a sound excited on one side of a 
 wall is heard on the other side not much weaker. Sound 
 also is heard within the septa of solid bodies, though fainter, 
 as in the case of sounds within bloodstones; or when bodies 
 
CONCERNING LIGHT. 
 
 87 
 
 are struck under water. But light is not at all visible in 
 a solid opaque body which is close on all sides. 
 
 Light penetrates deeper than sound, as at the bottom of 
 waters. Every sound is produced in the motion and mani¬ 
 fest collision of bodies : not so light. 
 
 But hostilities,of light, or privations, if any like the term 
 better, occur not. However, as is exceedingly probable, 
 the torpor of bodies, in their parts, is very inimical to light. 
 For almost nothing gives light that is not in its own nature 
 remarkably mobile, or excited by heat, or motion, or vital 
 spirit. 
 
 Yet I always mean, that not only other instances remain 
 to be investigated (for these few we have adduced only by 
 way of example), but also that new topical articles, as the 
 nature of things requires, may be added. 
 
 FRANCIS BACON’S APHORISMS 
 
 AND ADVICES CONCERNING THE HELPS OF THE MIND AND 
 THE KINDLING OF NATURAL LIGHT. 
 
 \ 
 
 Man, the servant and interpreter of nature, does and un¬ 
 derstands as much as he has actually or mentally observed 
 of the order of nature: he neither knows nor can do more. 
 
 The naked hand of man, however strong and constant, 
 suffices for but few operations, and those easy ; the same, 
 by help of instruments, performs many and obstinate ope¬ 
 rations : so is it also with the mind. 
 
 The instruments of the hand excite or direct motion: 
 and the instruments of the mind prompt or caution the in¬ 
 tellect. 
 
 On a given basis of matter to impose any nature, within 
 the limits of possibility, is the intention of human power. 
 In like manner, to know the causes of a given effect, in 
 whatever subject, is the intention of human knowledge: 
 which intentions coincide. For that which is in contem¬ 
 plation as a cause, is in operation as a medium. 
 
 The knowledge of him who knows the cause of any na¬ 
 ture, as of whiteness or of heat, in certain subjects only, is 
 imperfect. And the power of him, who can induce an 
 effect upon certain substances only of such as are suscep¬ 
 tible, is likewise imperfect. 
 
88 
 
 APHORISMS. 
 
 He who knows the causes of any nature in some subjects 
 only, knows the efficient or materiate cause, which causes 
 are inconstant, and nothing else but vehicles and causes 
 conveying form. But he who comprehends the unity of 
 nature in the most dissimilar substances, knows the form 
 of things. 
 
 He who knows the efficient and materiate causes, com¬ 
 poses or divides things previously invented, or transfers 
 and produces them ; also in matter somewhat similar, he 
 attaineth unto new inventions; the more deeply fixed limits 
 of things he moveth not. 
 
 He who knows the forms, discloses and educes things 
 which have not hitherto been done, such as neither the 
 vicissitudes of nature, nor the diligence of experience might 
 ever have brought into action, or as might not have entered 
 into man’s thoughts. 
 
 The same is the way and the perfection of truth and of 
 power: this, namely, to discover the forms of things, from 
 the knowledge of which followeth true contemplation and 
 free operation. 
 
 The discovery of forms which proceeds by the exclusion 
 or rejection of natures is simple and one. For all natures, 
 which are absent in a given present nature, or present in a 
 given absent nature, pertain not to form; and, after com¬ 
 plete rejection or negation, the form and affirmation remains. 
 If you inquire, for example, into the form of heat, and find 
 water hot, yet not lucid, reject light: if you find air thin, 
 yet not hot, reject tenuity. This is short to say, but it is 
 reached by a long circuit. 
 
 The contemplative and the operative utterance of words 
 differ not in reality. For when you say, light belongs not 
 to the form of heat, it is the same as if you were to say, in 
 producing heat it is not necessary to produce light also. 
 
 (The rest were not finished.) 
 
 Nor do these proceed under our authority. Thou, O Fa¬ 
 ther, turning to the works which thy hands made, saw that 
 all things were very good; but man, turning to the works 
 which his hands made, saw that all was vanity and vexa¬ 
 tion of spirit. Therefore, if we have laboured amid thy 
 works, thou wilt make us partakers of thy gratulation and 
 of thy sabbath. We humbly entreat that this disposition 
 may abide in us; and that by our hands the human family 
 may be endowed with new alms from thee. These we com¬ 
 mend to thy eternal love, through our Jesus, thy Christ, 
 God with us. j. A. C. 
 
 \ 
 
89 
 
 OF THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 XII. SENTENCES. 
 
 Of the condition of Man . 
 
 ]. Man, the servant and interpreter of nature, does and 
 understands as much, as he shall really or mentally observe 
 of the order of nature, himself meanwhile inclosed around 
 by the laws of nature. 
 
 2. The limit, therefore, of human power and knowledge, 
 is in the faculties with which man is endowed by nature 
 for moving and perceiving, as well as in the state of pre¬ 
 sent things. For beyond these bases, those instruments 
 avail not. 
 
 3. These faculties, though of themselves weak and inept, 
 are yet capable, when properly and regularly managed, of 
 setting before the judgment and use things most remote 
 from sense and action, and of overcoming greater difficulty 
 of works and obscurity of knowledge, than any one hath 
 yet learned to wish. 
 
 4. Truth is one, interpretation one; but sense is oblique, 
 the mind alien, the matter urgent; yet the work itself of 
 interpretation is devious rather than difficult. 
 
 Of the Impediments of Interpretation. 
 
 5. Whoever, unable to doubt, and eager to affirjn, shall 
 establish principles proved (as he believes), conceded, and 
 manifest, and, according to the unmoved truth of these, 
 shall reject or receive others as repugnant or favourable ; 
 he shall exchange things for words, reason for insanity, the 
 world for a fable, and shall be incapable of interpreting. 
 
 6. He who hath not mixed, confounded, and reduced into 
 a mass, all distinction of things, which appears in the com¬ 
 monly established species, and the names imposed, shall not 
 see the unity of nature, nor the legitimate lines of things, 
 and shall not be able to interpret. 
 
 7. He who hath not first, and before all, intimately ex¬ 
 plored the movements of the human mind, and therein most 
 
90 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 accurately distinguished the course of knowledge and the 
 seats of error, shall find all things masked and, as it were, 
 enchanted, and, till he undo the charm, shall be unable to 
 interpret. 
 
 8. He who is occupied in inquiring into the causes of 
 things obvious and compound, as flame, dreams, fever, and 
 doth not betake himself to simple natures; first, to those 
 which are popularly esteemed such; next, to those which 
 by art are reduced and, as it were, sublimed to truer sim¬ 
 plicity, he shall perhaps, if in the rest he err not, add to in¬ 
 ventions some things not to be contemned, and next to in¬ 
 ventions. But he shall effect nothing against the greater 
 secularities of things, nor shall he be named an inter¬ 
 preter. 
 
 Of the Qualities of the Interpreter . 
 
 9. Let him who comes to interpret thus prepare and 
 qualify himself; let him not be a follower of novelty, nor 
 of custom or antiquity; neither let him embrace the license 
 of contradicting or the servitude of authority. Let him 
 not be hasty to affirm or unrestrained in doubting, but let 
 him produce every thing marked with a certain degree of 
 probation. Let hope be the cause of labour to him not of 
 idleness. Let him estimate things not by their rareness, 
 difficulty, or credit, but by their real importance. Let him 
 manage his private affairs under a mask, yet with some 
 regard for the provisions of things. Let him prudently 
 observe the first entrances of errors into truths, and of 
 truths into errors, nothing contemning or admiring. Let 
 him know the advantages of his nature; and let him 
 humour the nature of others, for no man is angry with the 
 stone that is striking him. Let him as it were with one 
 eye scan the natures of things; with the other, the uses of 
 mankind. Of words let him distinctly know the mixed 
 nature, which especially partakes of advantage and of in¬ 
 convenience. Let him determine that with inventions the 
 art of inventing grows. Also let him not be vain in con¬ 
 cealing or in setting forth the knowledge which he hath 
 obtained, but ingenuous and prudent, and let him com¬ 
 mend his inventions, not ambitiously or spitefully, but first 
 in a manner most vivid and fresh, that is, most fortified 
 against the injuries of time, and most powerful for the 
 propagation of science, then least c apable of begetting 
 errors, and, above all, such as mayprocure him a legiti¬ 
 mate reader. 
 
IX TE RPRETA TION O F X A '1'U RE. 
 
 91 
 
 Of the Duty of the Interpreter. 
 
 10. Thus qualified and prepared let the interpreter pro¬ 
 ceed in this way. He will consider the condition of man, 
 and remove the impediments of interpretation ; then, girded 
 up for his work, he will prepare a history and regular series 
 of tables, at the same time appointing their uses, coordina¬ 
 tions, occurrences, and appendages. He will exhibit the 
 solitude of things and their resemblance of each other. 
 He will also make a selection of things, and those which 
 are most primitive or instant, that is, conduce especially to 
 the invention of other things, or to human wants, he will 
 place first in order. He will also observe the preeminences 
 of instances, which can do much to shorten his work. 
 And thus furnished, he will at length maturely and hap¬ 
 pily undertake and complete, rearrangements and new 
 tables, and the interpretation itself now easy and following 
 spontaneously, nay, almost as if snatched away from the 
 mind. Which when he shall have accomplished, he will 
 immediately perceive and number, in their pure and native 
 light, the true, eternal, and simplest motions of nature, 
 from the ordinate and well adjusted progress of which 
 arises all this infinite variety, both of the present and of all 
 ages. And meanwhile from the beginning of his work he 
 will not fail to receive constantly, as interest, for human 
 affairs many things and unknown. But from hence again, 
 altogether directing himself to and intent upon the uses of 
 mankind, and the present state of things, he will, in di¬ 
 verse ways, dispose and arrange the whole for action. To 
 natures the most secret he will assign others explanatory, 
 and to the most absent others superinductory. And then 
 at last, like a second nature, he will institute generalities, 
 the errors of which may be accounted monsters, yet also 
 saving to himself the prerogative of his art. 
 
 Of the Provision of Things. 
 
 11. But thou receivest these things with languid hope 
 and zeal, my son, and wonderest, if there remains such 
 store of works most fruitful and altogether unknown, that 
 they have not before this time, or now suddenly, been dis¬ 
 covered ; at the same time thou inquirest what they are by 
 name, and promisest to thyself immortality, or freedom 
 from pain, or transporting pleasure. But thou bestowest 
 liberally upon thyself, my son, and wilt hunt after hope 
 from knowledge, as from ignorance thou didst begin to 
 
92 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 hunt despair. Is it also by art that the work must be 
 adopted. Yet, as far as may be, I shall satisfy thy doubt, 
 and obey thee. That these things are suddenly known, 
 my son, is no wonder. Knowledge is of quick, time of 
 tardy birth. Also the noble things which were invented 
 before these, were not by the light of former knowledge 
 gradually invented, but by chance (as they say) abun¬ 
 dantly. But in things mechanical there is a certain exten¬ 
 sion of what is already invented, which yet deserves not 
 the name of new invention. The way is not long, my son, 
 but ambiguous. Yet when I say that these things have 
 not come to view before this time, hast thou ascertained, 
 how much was known to all antiquity, or in all countries, 
 or even to single individuals. But I almost agree with 
 thee, my son, and will lead thee higher by the hand. 
 Thou doubtest not but that if men had never existed, 
 many of the things which are made by art (as they say) 
 would have been wanting, as marble statues, clothes. But 
 now, and men have not they too their motions which they 
 obey? Truly, my son, more subtle, and more difficult to 
 comprehend by knowledge, yet equally certain. Indeed, 
 you will say, men obey their will. I hear, but this is 
 nothing. Such a cause as fortune is in the universe, such 
 is the will in man. If any thing therefore is produced yet 
 not without man, and lies also beyond the ways of man, is 
 it not equal to nothing ? Man lights upon certain inven¬ 
 tions which as it were present themselves, others he attains 
 to by foreseeing the end and knowing the means. The 
 knowledge of the means however he derives from things 
 obvious. In which number then shall be placed those 
 inventions which from things obvious receive neither ob¬ 
 vious effect nor method and light of operation? Such 
 works are called Epistemides, or daughters of science, 
 which do not otherwise come into action than by know¬ 
 ledge and pure interpretation, seeing they contain nothing 
 obvious. But between these and the obvious how many 
 degrees thinkest thou are numbered ? Receive, my son, 
 and seal. 
 
 12. In the last place, my son, I counsel thee, as is espe¬ 
 cially necessary, with an enlightened and sober mind to 
 distinguish the interpretation of things divine and things 
 natural, and not to suffer these in any way to be mingled 
 together. Errors enough there are in this kind. Nothing 
 is learnt here unless by the similitudes of things to each 
 other: which, though they seem most dissimilar, do yet 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 93 
 
 contain a genuine similitude known to the interpreter. 
 But God is as similar to thee and without a figure. Where¬ 
 fore expect from hence no sufficient light for the knowledge 
 of him. Give faith to what is of faith. 
 
 'CHAPTER FIRST. 
 
 Legitimate Mode of delivering. 
 
 I perceive, my son, that many in bringing forward, or on 
 the other hand in concealing the knowledge of things 
 which they conceive themselves to have attained, do noways 
 conduct themselves according to their credit and duty. 
 With equal detriment, though perhaps less blame, do those 
 also offend who, though of excellent qualifications, are yet 
 imprudent, and possess no art or precepts concerning the 
 several modes of propounding things. Yet need we not 
 make complaint regarding this malignity or ignorance in 
 the teachers of knowledge. If indeed through the unskil¬ 
 fulness of teaching they were to destroy the importance of 
 things, one might be angry not without cause; but we 
 ought to consider that the importunity of teaching doth 
 even by right belong to the impertinences of things. But 
 far different from these, when I am going to impart to thee, 
 not the fictions of ingenuity, nor the shadows of words or 
 the devotion mingled therewith, nor certain popular obser¬ 
 vations, or certain noble experiments trimmed up into the 
 fables of theory, but in truth to bind and make over unto 
 thee nature with her offspring; does the argument I have 
 before me seem worthy of being polluted by the ambition 
 or ignorance or faultmess of any sort with which it is 
 treated ? May I be such, my son, and may I so extend to 
 its given limits the narrowness never enough lamented of 
 man’s empire over the universe (which of things human is 
 my sole wish), that most faithfully and from the deepest 
 providence of my mind, and the well explored state of 
 things and of minds, I may deliver these to thee in the 
 most legitimate mode of all. But now which (thou wilt 
 say) is that legitimate mode? Dismiss all art and circum¬ 
 stance, exhibit the matter naked to us, that we may be 
 enabled to use our judgment. And would that you were 
 in a condition, dearest son, to admit of this being done. 
 Thinkest thou, that, when all the accesses and motions of 
 all minds are besieged and obstructed by the obscurest 
 idols deeply rooted and branded in, the sincere and po- 
 
94 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 lished areas present themselves in the true and native rays 
 of things ? A new method must be entered upon, by which 
 we may glide into minds the most obstructed. For as the 
 delirium of phrenetics is subdued by art and ingenuity, 
 but by force and contention raised to fury; so in this uni¬ 
 versal insanity we must use moderation. What ? Are 
 these conditions trifling which pertain to the legitimate 
 mode of communicating knowledge ? Do they seem to 
 thee so free and easy, that the method is innocent, that it 
 affords no handle or occasion for error ? that it has a cer¬ 
 tain inherent and innate power of conciliating belief and 
 repelling the injuries of time, so that knowledge thus 
 delivered, like a plant full of life’s freshness, may spread 
 daily and grow to maturity ? that it will set apart for 
 itself, and as it were adopt, a legitimate reader ? And 
 whether I shall have accomplished all this or not, I appeal 
 to future time. 
 
 CHAPTER SECOND. 
 
 But plainly I dissemble not, my son, that in some way I 
 must remove those philosophasters, fuller of fables than the 
 very poets, the ravishers of minds, falsifiers of things; and 
 much more also, their satellites and parasites, that profes¬ 
 sorial and money-gaming crowd: who dictates the song, 
 that I may devote them to oblivion ? For what silence can 
 there be for truth, when they are thus clamorous with their 
 brutish and inarticulate reasons ? But perhaps it were safer 
 to condemn them by name, lest, while they flourish with 
 such authority, if not named they may seem to be excepted, 
 or lest any might conceive, seeing such severe and mortal 
 hatred at work amongst them, and such contentions, that 
 I were sent to these battles of larves and shadows to oive 
 assistance to the other side. Let us then summon Aristotle, 
 worst of sophists, crazed with useless subtlety, base laugh¬ 
 ing stock of w r ords. At a time when the human mind, 
 carried by some chance as by favourable weather to some¬ 
 what of truth, did rest, he ventured to lay the severest 
 shackles on the mind, and to compose a kind of art of in¬ 
 sanity, and to bind us to words. Nay, also, out of his 
 bosom have been produced and nourished those most cun¬ 
 ning prattlers, who, when they had turned away from all 
 perambulation of this earth, and from all light of things 
 and of history, exhibited to us, chiefly from the exceeding 
 ductile materials of his precepts and positions, and from 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 95 
 
 the unquiet agitation of their own ingenuity, the manifold 
 sweepings of the schools. But this their dictator is so much 
 the more to blame than they, since even when engaged in 
 the evident things of history, he brought back the darkest 
 idols of some subterranean den ; and erected even upon the 
 history itself of particular things certain works as of spiders, 
 which he wished to seem causes, whereas they are utterly 
 without strength or value. Such also in our times hath 
 Geronimo Cardano constructed, both at variance with things 
 and with himself. Yet augur not, my son, that while I 
 entertain this opinion against Aristotle, I have conspired 
 with his rebel, a certain Pierre Ramus. No commerce 
 have I with this nest of ignorance, most pernicious moth of 
 letters, who twists and presses things with the chains of 
 his method and compendium, till the things indeed, if any 
 there be, escape altogether and leap out; but he himself 
 grasps the arid and most deserted trifles. And Aquinas, 
 indeed, with Scotus and his fellows, contrived a variety of 
 things, even when their subjects w r ere non-entities ; but this 
 man hath, even on subjects having real existence, produced 
 the vacuity of non-entity. And although he is such a man, 
 yet doth he impudently talk of uses to mankind, so that 
 even when compared with the sophists he seems to prevari¬ 
 cate. But let us dismiss these. And now let Plato be sum¬ 
 moned, that polite caviller, tumid poet, insane theologian. 
 And surely when thou wast filing and putting together 
 I know not what philosophic rumours, and simulating 
 knowledge by dissembling it, and tempting and loosening 
 men’s minds with vague inductions, thou mightest either 
 have ministered discourses to the feasts of literate and 
 polite men, or also grace and love to ordinary discourses. 
 But when thou didst counterfeit truth, which is as it were 
 the indigenous inhabitant of the human mind, migrating 
 from nowhere else, and didst turn aside our minds, which 
 are never sufficiently applied and brought back to history 
 and to things themselves, and teach them to enter into 
 themselves, and under the name of contemplation to wallow 
 amid their blind and most confused idols, thou didst then 
 commit a capital offence. And afterwards, with scarcely 
 less naughtiness, didst thou introduce an apotheosis of 
 folly, and dare to defend with religion thy meanest cogita¬ 
 tions. For it is a slighter evil that thou hast been the 
 parent of philologers, and that under thy guidance, and the 
 auspices of thy manifold genius, ensnared and satisfied with 
 fame and the popular and smooth jucundi ty of the know- 
 
9 G 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 ledge of things, they did corrupt the severer investigation 
 of truth. Among these were Marcus Cicero, and Anneeus 
 Seneca, and Plutarch of Chaeronea, and many others 
 nowise equal to these. Let us now proceed to physicians. 
 I see Galen, a man of the narrowest mind, a forsaker of 
 experience, and a most vain pretender. Art not thou he, 
 Galen, who took away even the infamy of ignorance and 
 indolence in physicians, and put them in safety, the most 
 sluggish definer of their art and duty ? who, by declaring 
 so many disorders to be incurable, proscribest so many of 
 the sick, cutting off their hope and the industry of physi¬ 
 cians. O, dogstar! O, pestilence ! Eagerly seizing and 
 displaying thy fiction of mixture, the prerogative of nature, 
 and thy sedition between the heat of stars and of fire, de¬ 
 ceitfully reducest human power to order, and seekest to 
 defend for ever thy ignorance by despair. Thou art un¬ 
 worthy to be longer detained. Thou mayest also take 
 away with thee thy fellows and confederates the Arabians, 
 the framers of dispensatories, who, in theories as madly as 
 the rest, did, more copiously indeed, from the supinest 
 conjectures, compound the promises rather than the aids 
 of vulgar medicines. Take also thy companions the care¬ 
 less crowd of moderns. Ho ! Nomenclator, call them. But 
 he replies, they are unworthy of having their names pre¬ 
 served by him. As, however, I recognise certain grades 
 among triflers of this kind, the worst and most absurd sort 
 are those who in method and accurate discussion compre¬ 
 hend universal art, and are usually applauded for their 
 elocution and arrangement,- such is Fernelius. Those do 
 less harm, who display a greater variety and propriety of 
 observations, though diluted with and immersed in the 
 most foolish pretences; as Arnold us de Villa Nova, and 
 others the like sort. I perceive, on the other side, the 
 cohort of chymists, among whom Paracelsus boasts himself 
 above the rest; who by his audacity merits separate cor¬ 
 rection. What oracles of Bacchus dost thou pour out in 
 thy new meteorics, thou rival of Epicurus? Yet he, as if 
 asleep, or doing something else, did in this matter as it 
 were commit his opinions to fate. Thou, more foolish than 
 any fate art ready to swear to the words of the absurdest 
 falsehood. But let us see thy other works. What mutual 
 imitations of the fruits of thy elements ? what correspon¬ 
 dencies; what parallels dreamest thou, O fanatical joiner 
 of idols ! for thou hast made man indeed a pantomime. 
 Yet how notable are those interpunctions, thy species 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 97 
 
 namely, by which thou hast broken the unity of nature. 
 Wherefore I can better endure Galen weighing his elements, 
 than thee adorning thy dreams. For the occult properties 
 of things excite him, but thee the common and promis¬ 
 cuous qualities. Meanwhile, unhappy we, that dwell amid 
 such odious impertinences! But how eagerly this most 
 skilful impostor inculcates the triad of principles, a fiction 
 not altogether useless, and somewhat allied to things ! Hear 
 still graver charges ! By mingling things divine with things 
 natural, profane with sacred, heresies with fables, thou 
 hast polluted (O sacrilegious impostor !) truth, both human 
 and religious. The light of nature (whose most sacred 
 name thou so often usurpest with impure mouth) thou hast 
 not hid, like the sophists, but extinguished. They were 
 the deserters of experience, thou the betrayer. Subjecting 
 by rule the crude and masked evidence of things to con¬ 
 templation, and seeking the Proteuses of substances accord¬ 
 ing to the computations of motions, thou hast endeavoured 
 to corrupt the fountains of knowledge, and to strip the 
 human mind; and thou hast increased with new and adsci- 
 titious windings and tediousness of experiments, those to 
 which the Sophists were averse, and the Empiricks unequal; 
 so far art thou from having followed or known the repre¬ 
 sentation of experience. And also the boastings of the Magi 
 thou hast every where done thy utmost to amplify, forcing 
 the most importunate cogitations by hope, and hope by pro¬ 
 mises, at once the contriver and the work of imposture. 
 Among thy followers, Paracelsus, I envy thee none but 
 Petrus Severinus, a man not deserving to spend his life 
 amid such impertinences. Surely thou art much indebted 
 to him, Paracelsus, because he rendered the things which 
 thou (O adopted of asses) used to bray, harmonious and 
 pleasant, by a certain melody and modulation, and most 
 agreeable diversity of words, converting the odiousness of 
 falsehoods into the delights of fable. Yet I pardon thee, 
 Severinus, if, weary of the learning of sophists, which is not 
 only fruitless, but professedly courteth despair, thou sought- 
 est other supports for our decaying affairs. And when those 
 I pretensions of Paracelsus presented themselves, commended 
 by the proclamations of ostentation, and the subterfuges of 
 obscurity, and the affinities of religion, and other adorn¬ 
 ments, thou didst surrender thyself with a certain impulse 
 of indignation to these, not fountains of things but openings 
 of hope. Thou wouldst have acted rightly and in order, if 
 from the maxims of ingenuity thou hadst turned to the de¬ 
 vo L. XV. H 
 
 
98 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 crees of nature, which would have held out to thee not only- 
 art short, but also life long. And now, having passed sen¬ 
 tence against Paracelsus, I perceive the rest of the chymists 
 fixed in astonishment. They immediately acknowledge his 
 decrees, which he himself promulgated rather than estab¬ 
 lished, and fortified by arrogance (plainly not after the 
 ancient discipline), instead of caution ; when, indeed, these 
 men, reconciled to each by much reciprocation of lying, 
 every where hold forth abundant hope, and wandering 
 through the by-ways indeed of experience, do at times, by 
 chance, not conduct, hit upon some things useful. Yet in 
 their theories they (as disciples of the furnace) have not 
 withdrawn from their art. But, as that wanton youth, 
 when he discovered a boat upon the shore, sought to build 
 a ship ; so these coalmen, from a few experiments of distil¬ 
 lations, have attempted to erect a philosophy, which is 
 everywhere obnoxious to those most absurd idols of separa¬ 
 tions and liberations. Yet I count them not all alike; for 
 as much as there is a useful sort of them, who, not very 
 solicitous about theories, do by a kind of mechanic subtlety 
 lay hold of the extensions of things ; such is Bacon. There 
 is a base and detestable sort, who everywhere seek applause 
 for their theories, by religion, hope, imposture, wooing, and 
 supplicating for it; such is Isaac Hollandus, and by far 
 the greater part of the rabble of chymists. And now let 
 us summon Hippocrates, the creature of antiquity and the 
 seller of years, to whose authority, when both Galen and 
 Paracelsus with much zeal strive to betake themselves, as 
 to the shadow of the ass, who bursts not into laughter? 
 And truly this man seems to cling to experience with per¬ 
 petual steadfast looking, yet with eyes not moving and in¬ 
 quiring, but stupid and enfeebled. Afterwards, his sight 
 recovering somewhat from the stupor, he receives certain 
 idols, not indeed those huge idols of theories, but the more 
 elegant which encompass the superficies of history; on 
 swallowing which swelling, and half a sophist, and (after 
 the manner of his age) sheltered by brevity, he at length 
 (as these two think) sets forth his oracles, of which they 
 ' seek to be esteemed the interpreters; while in reality he 
 does nothing but either deliver certain sophistications in 
 sentences abrupt and suspended, thus withdrawing them 
 from confutation; or invest with stateliness the observations 
 of rustics. And nearest (as is commonly believed) to his 
 precepts, which are not so unsound as useless, approaches 
 Cornelius Celsus, but a more intense sophist, and more 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 ( Ji) 
 
 bound to history modified, sprinkling the same moral 
 moderation upon the progress of knowledge, and ampu¬ 
 tating the extremes of error, not rooting out the principles. 
 And regarding these, what we have said is most true. 
 But I now hear thee, my son, inquiring whether perhaps, 
 as is done, they have not sought after the worst parts, espe¬ 
 cially as the state of knowledge is always almost demo¬ 
 cratic ? Hath not time, like a river, brought down to us 
 the light and inflated, and sunk the solid and weighty ; 
 What of those ancient inquirers after truth, Heraclitus, 
 Democritus, Pythagoras, Anaxagoras, Empedocles, and 
 others, known by the writings of others, not by their own ? 
 Lastly, what deem you of the silence and the secrets of 
 antiquity ? My son, (that I may answer these inquiries, as 
 is usual with me, for thy benefit), I recognize a few frag¬ 
 ments of antiquity (of books found I speak not), yet these 
 as specimens rather of the diligence and ingenuity than 
 the knowledge of their authors. But if I hint that those 
 searchings of conjectures respecting things, which with 
 their footsteps have fled away, are laborious; and that for 
 me, studying the utility of mankind for time coming, it 
 were unfitting to turn back to the philology of antiquity, 
 I know sufficiently that in thy modesty thou wouldst 
 acquiesce. Nevertheless that thou mayest perceive what two- 
 faced prophets things present are, and how they bring before 
 us things both past and future, I have resolved to gratify thee 
 with tables of both times (which may comprise not only the 
 courses and flowings of knowledge, but also other provisions 
 of things). And do not augur what this may be (before 
 seeing it), for the true anticipation of this matter falls not to 
 thee, and if it come not to thy hand, seek it not. For in this 
 matter, my son, I shall gratify some of you, and conciliate 
 the minds of the more delicate. Knowledge indeed is to 
 be sought from the light of nature, not recovered from the 
 obscurity of antiquity. Nor is it of importance what may 
 have been done; we have only to see what can be done. 
 If a kingdom, subdued by arms and victorious war, were 
 delivered to thee, wouldst thou frame questions whether or 
 not thy ancestors had possessed it, and solicit the rumours 
 of genealogies ? So much for the recesses of antiquity. 
 But concerning those leaders of sects, whom thou hast 
 named, and many more of like sort, it is easy to decide. 
 Variety is proper to error, unity to truth. And unless the 
 politics and provisions of the times had been adverse to the 
 peregrinations of such minds, many other regions of error 
 
100 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 would have been wandered over. For an immense ocean 
 encompasses the island of truth; and men have still to 
 endure new damages and scatterings from the winds of 
 idols. Nay, even two or three days ago Bernardinus Tele- 
 sius mounted the stage, and enacted a new play, neither 
 frequent in applause, nor elegant in argument. Dost thou 
 not observe, my son, that the contrivers both of eccentrics 
 and of epicycles, and the charioteers of the earth, delight in 
 the impartial and ambiguous advocation of phenomena? 
 It is exactly so in universal theories. For as if any one, 
 knowing only the use of his vernacular tongue, (attend, my 
 son, for this is very similar), undertake to write an un¬ 
 known speech, in which, observing some few words ap¬ 
 proaching in sound and letters to those of his own lan¬ 
 guage, he immediately and confidently assumes them to be 
 of the same signification (though more frequently far 
 removed from it); then, by collating these together, with 
 much labour of ingenuity but also much liberty, he divines 
 the remaining sense of the oration; altogether such also 
 are those interpreters of nature found to be. For each 
 bringing his idols (I speak not now of those of the stage, 
 but especially of the market and of the den), like diverse 
 vernacular tongues, to history, immediately seizes the 
 things which sound somewhat alike; from the symmetry 
 of these the rest are interpreted. And now it is time, my 
 son, for us to recover and purge ourselves, seeing we have 
 been handling (though with purpose of importing) things 
 so profane and polluted. But against all these I have said 
 less than their guilt deserved. Yet perhaps thou com- 
 prehendest not this censure. For be assured, my son, the 
 judgment I have pronounced against them is nothing less 
 than contumely. For I have not conducted myself like 
 Velleius with Cicero, a declaimer and philologist cursorily 
 touching opinions, and rather casting them away than des¬ 
 troying them; or like Agrippa the modern, in speech of 
 that kind not to be named indeed, but a trivial buffoon, 
 distorting every thing and holding it out to ridicule (un¬ 
 happy me who in defect of men am forced to compare my¬ 
 self with brutes !). But on looking back afterwards thou 
 wilt discern, under the veil of reproach, wondrous airs of 
 accusations, with singular art contracted and reduced 
 almost to single words, and with keenest glance directed and 
 brandished against the very ulcers themselves of offence. 
 And when they mighthave been much mingled and entangled 
 together in their crimes and guilt, I have by their most pecu- 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 101 
 
 liar marks, but those capital, condemned them singly. For 
 the human mind, my son, puffed up with the incursions 
 and observations of things, contrives and educes very 
 various species of error. But Aristotle is as a taller plant 
 of one species, so also Plato, and others besides. Yet thou 
 requirest particular confutations. Verily it were a great 
 sin against the golden fortune of mankind, the pledge of 
 empire, for me to turn aside to the pursuit of most fleeting 
 shadows. One bright and radiant light of truth, my son, 
 must be placed in the midst, which may illuminate the 
 whole, and in a moment dispel all errors. Certain feeble 
 and pale lamps are not to be carried round to the several 
 corners and holes of errors and falsehoods. Wherefore, 
 my son, detest what you were .seeking; for it is very pro¬ 
 fane. But now I hear thee asking: Is all that the whole 
 of these have asserted altogether false and vain ? Truly, 
 my son, this is unhappiness and that prodigious, not igno¬ 
 rance. For no man does not at times hit upon something 
 true. When Heraclitus remarked, that knowledge is to be 
 sought by men in private worlds, not in the common world, 
 I perceive that he sacrificed well at the entrance of philo¬ 
 sophy. Democritus, I think, did not unhappily philoso¬ 
 phize, when attributing immense variety and infinite suc¬ 
 cession to nature, he set himself against almost all other 
 philosophers, the slaves of custom, and given over to secu¬ 
 larises, and by this opposition bringing both errors into 
 collision, destroyed both, and opened some way for truth 
 between the extremes. The numbers of Pythagoras I set 
 down as also of good omen. Dindamus the Indian I com¬ 
 mend, for having called custom antiphysis. And to Epi¬ 
 curus disputing against the explication of causes (as they 
 speak) by intentions and ends, though childishly and phi- 
 lologically, I nevertheless not unwillingly listen. Pyrrho 
 also and the vacillating academics, talking from the skiff, 
 and conducting themselves against idols like certain mo¬ 
 rose lovers (who are always reproaching their loves, but 
 never desert them), I use for the sake of the mind and of 
 hilarity. Nor without cause : for idols drive others straight 
 forwards, but these in a circle, which is pleasanter. Lastly, 
 I should wish to have Paracelsus and Severinus for criers, 
 when with such clamours they convoke men to the sugges¬ 
 tion of experience. What then ? Are they possessed of 
 truth? Nothing less. And, my son, some proverbs of 
 rustics are apposite to truth. If the sow with her snout 
 should happen to imprint the letter A upon the ground; 
 
102 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 wouldst those therefore imagine that she could write out a 
 whole tragedy as one letter ? Of a far different sort is the 
 truth revealed from the analogy of knowledge, and the 
 truth from the section of an idol. The former is constant 
 and indefinitely germinous, the latter discordant and soli¬ 
 tary. Which happens also in works. Gunpowder, if it 
 had been invented by conduct, not chance (as they speak) 
 and accident, would not have come forth solitary, but with 
 great frequence of noble inventions (which fall under the 
 same meridian). So also the rest both works and princi¬ 
 ples. Wherefore I admonish thee, if perhaps any idol of 
 any of these hath in any point determined my truth, that 
 is, the truth of things, not to think more highly of them, 
 or less of me, since it is sufficiently apparent from their 
 ignorance of the rest, that those things themselves they 
 have not said from the analogy of knowledge. But thou 
 still urgest, my son: would you therefore order all their 
 writings to be converted into wrappings for incense and 
 perfumes ? That I should not have said. For there remains 
 yet a short while some use of them, slight and narrow, and 
 far different from that which they were destined for, and 
 now usurp, but still some. Add to this that there are 
 many other writings obscurer in fame, but more excellent 
 in use. The morals of Aristotle and of Plato many admire ; 
 yet Tacitus breathes more living observations of manners. 
 But at length in the proper place I shall say, what utility 
 can be derived from writings, and which are superior in 
 utility to the rest, and which smallest part of them are 
 gifts of those things which contribute to the interpretation 
 of nature. Lastly, my son, I hear thee inquiring: dost 
 thou suffice thyself in place of all these? I shall reply, 
 and that not dissemblingly, but from my inmost sense. I, 
 dearest son, will confirm to thee a sacred, chaste, and legi¬ 
 timate marriage with things themselves. From which in¬ 
 tercourse (above all wishes of marriage songs) thou shalt 
 beget a most blessed progeny of heroes, who shall subdue 
 the infinite necessities of man, more fatal than all giants, 
 and monsters, and tyrants; and for your affairs procure a 
 placid and festal security and plenteousness. But were I, 
 my son, to commit thee to the giddy intricacies of experi¬ 
 ence with a mind unpurged of idols, verily thou wouldst 
 soon desire a leader. Yet by my simple precepts without 
 the knowledge of things, thou canst not, however much 
 thou mayest wish it, divest thyself of idols. In tables, 
 unless you erase what has before been written, you can 
 write nothing else. But in the mind, on the contrary, un- 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 103 
 
 less you incribe something else, you cannot erase what has 
 before been written. And although this may be done, 
 although thou mayest put off the idols of friendship, yet 
 indeed, being uninitiated, there is danger that thou mayest 
 be overwhelmed by the idols of the way. Thou hast too 
 much accustomed thyself to a leader. At Rome, tyranny 
 being once established, the oath in the name of the Roman 
 senate and people was ever afterwards vain. Confide and 
 give thyself to me, my son, that I may restore thee to 
 thyself. 
 
 OF THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 Accounting myself born for the use of mankind, and 
 judging the case of the commonweal to be one of those 
 things which are of public right, and like water or air lie 
 open to all; I sought what might be of most advantage to 
 men, and deliberated what I was most fitted for by nature. 
 I discovered that nothing is of such estimation towards the 
 human race, as the invention and earnest of new things 
 and arts, by which man’s life is adorned. For I perceive 
 that, even in old times among rude men, the inventors and 
 teachers of tiling's rude were consecrated and chosen into 
 the number of the gods; and I noted that the deeds of 
 heroes who built cities, or were legislators, or exercised 
 just authority, or subdued unjust dominations, were cir¬ 
 cumscribed by the narrowness of places and times. But 
 the invention of things, though it be a matter of less pomp, 
 I esteemed more adapted for universality and eternity. 
 Yet above all, if any bring forth no particular invention, 
 though of much utility, but kindleth a light in nature, 
 which from the very beginning illuminates the regions of 
 things, which lie contiguous to things already invented, 
 afterwards being elevated lays open and brings to view all 
 the abstrusest things; he seems to me a propagator of the 
 empire of man over the universe, a defender of liberty, a 
 conqueror of necessities. But I found myself constructed 
 more for the contemplations of truth than for aught else, 
 as having a mind sufficiently mobile for recognizing (what 
 is most of all) the similitude of things, and sufficiently 
 fixed and intent for observing the subtleties of differences, 
 and possessing love of investigation, patience in doubting, 
 pleasure in meditating, delay in asserting, facility in return¬ 
 ing to wisdom, and neither affecting novelty, nor admiring 
 antiquity, and hating all imposture. Wherefore I judged 
 my nature to have a kind of familiarity and relationship 
 
104 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 with truth. Yet seeing by rank and education I was 
 trained to civil affairs, and, like a youth, sometimes stag¬ 
 gered in my opinions, and conceived I owed my country 
 something peculiar, and not equally pertaining to all other 
 parts, and hoped, if I obtained any honourable degree in 
 the commonwealth to perform with greater help of inge¬ 
 nuity and industry what I had intended; I both learnt 
 civil arts, and with all ingenuousness and due modesty, 
 commended myself to my friends who had some power. 
 And in addition to this, because those things of whatever 
 kind penetrate not beyond the condition and culture of this 
 life, the hope occurred that I, born in no very prosperous 
 state of religion, might, if called to civil offices, contribute 
 somewhat to the safety of souls. But when my zeal was 
 imputed to ambition, and my age was matured, and my 
 disordered health also admonished me of my unhappy 
 slowness, and I next considered that I nowise fulfilled my 
 duty, while I was neglecting that by which I could through 
 myself benefit men, and applying myself to the things 
 which depended upon the will of another, I altogether 
 weaned myself from those thoughts, and wholly betook 
 myself to this work, according to my former principle. 
 Nor is my resolution diminished, by foreseeing in the state 
 of these times, a sort of declination and ruin of the learning 
 which is now in use; for although I dread not the incur¬ 
 sions of barbarians (unless, perhaps, the empire of Spain 
 should strengthen itself, and oppress and debilitate others 
 by arms, itself by the burden), yet from civil wars (which, 
 on account of certain manners not long ago introduced, 
 seem to me about to visit many countries), and the malig¬ 
 nity of sects, and from those compendiary artifices and cau¬ 
 tions which have crept into the place of learning, no less a 
 tempest seems to impend over letters and science. Nor 
 can the shop of the typographer suffice for those evils. 
 And that unwarlike learning, which is nourished by ease, 
 and flourishes by praise and reward, which sustains not 
 the vehemency of opinion, and is the sport of artifices and 
 impostures, is overcome by the impediments which I have 
 mentioned. Far different is the nature of the knowledge 
 whose dignity is fortified by utility and operation. And 
 from the injuries of time I am almost secure; but for the 
 inj uries of men I am not concerned. For should any say 
 that I savour things too high, I reply simply, in civil affairs 
 there is place for modesty, in contemplations for truth. 
 But if any one require works immediately, I say, without 
 any imposture, that I, a man not old, frail in health, in- 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 105 
 
 volved in civil studies, coming to the obscurest of all sub¬ 
 jects without guide or light, have done enough, if I have 
 constructed the machine itself and the fabric, though I 
 may not have employed or moved it. And with the same 
 candour, I profess that the legitimate interpretation of na¬ 
 ture, in the first ascent before arriving at a certain degree 
 of generals, should be kept pure and separate from all 
 application to works. Moreover, I know that all those who 
 have in some measure committed themselves to the waters 
 of experience, seeing they were infirm of purpose, or desirous 
 of ostentation, have at the entrance unreasonably sought 
 pledges of works, and have thence been confounded and 
 shipwrecked. But if any requires at least particular pro¬ 
 mises, let him know that by that knowledge, which is now 
 in use, men are not skilled enough even for wishing. But, 
 what is of less moment, should any of the politicians, whose 
 custom it is from personal calculations to estimate every 
 thing, or from examples of like endeavours to form conjec¬ 
 ture, presume to interpose his judgment in a matter of this 
 sort, I would have told that ancient saying, “ claudus in 
 via, cursorem extra viam antevertit,” and not to think 
 about examples, since the matter is without example. But 
 the method of publishing these things is, to have such of 
 them as tend to seize the correspondences of dispositions, 
 and purge the areas of minds, given out to the vulgar and 
 talked of; to have the rest handed down with selection 
 and judgment. Nor am I ignorant that it is a common 
 and trite artifice of impostors to keep apart from the vulgar 
 certain things which are nothing better than the imperti¬ 
 nences they set forth to the vulgar. But without any im¬ 
 posture, from sound providence, I foresee that this formula 
 of interpretation, and the inventions made by it, will be 
 more vigorous and secure when contained within legitimate 
 and chosen devices. Yet I undertake these things at the 
 risk of others. For none of those things which depend 
 upon externals concerns me: nor do 1 hunt after fame, or, 
 like the heretics, take delight in establishing a sect; and to 
 receive any private emolument from so great an undertak¬ 
 ing, I hold to be both ridiculous and base. Sufficient for 
 me is the consciousness of desert, and the very accomplish¬ 
 ment itself of things, which even fortune cannot withstand. 
 
 J. A. C. 
 
106 
 
 TRUE HINTS ON THE INTERPRETATION 
 
 OF NATURE. 
 
 The First Part of this Tract forms the Preface to the 
 Novum Organum , Vol. IX. p. 185—190, translated hy 
 Mr. Wood, Vol. XIV. p. 27—30. 
 
 OUTLINE AND ARGUMENT OF THE SECOND PART OF THE 
 
 IN STAUR ATION. 
 
 Keeping then in view our plan, we shall exhibit the whole 
 subject perspicuously, and with orderly distribution of the 
 parts. Wherefore let us now unfold the design and ar¬ 
 rangement of this second part. We devote this part to the 
 doctrine of a better and more perfect use of reason than 
 hath heretofore been known or promulgated to men, with 
 purpose (as far as the terms of this mortal state permit) to 
 aggrandize and enlarge the human intellect with power to 
 conquer and interpret the mystery of nature. To the inter¬ 
 pretation itself we have dedicated three books, the third, the 
 fourth, and the fifth ; for the sixth, which consists of anti¬ 
 cipations drawn from the ordinary use of reason, it is to 
 be taken only as temporary and provisional, and when in 
 time it shall have begun to acquire solidity, and to be ve¬ 
 rified by the methods of legitimate reason, it is shifted, and 
 as it were migrates of itself into the sixth. 
 
 But to this second book is apportioned the intellect 
 itself, its treatment and regulation, and the entire system 
 of preparation and training leading to the right conduct of 
 the understanding. And although the term logic or dia¬ 
 lectics, by reason of the depravations of the art, sounds 
 repulsive in our ears, yet to lead men as it were so far by 
 the hand in their wonted tracks, we acknowledge the art 
 which we profess to be of the nature of logic,—so far as logic, 
 (the common logic I mean), supplies aids and constructs de¬ 
 fences for the intellect. Yet ours differs from the received 
 logic, besides other points of opposition, principally in three ; 
 namely, its mode of entering on inquiry, its order of de¬ 
 monstration, and its end and office. It goes deeper to find 
 
INTERPRETATION OE NATURE. 
 
 107 
 
 a foundation and basis for inquiry, by subjecting to inves¬ 
 tigation what the received logic admits as it were on the 
 credit of others, and in a blind submission to authority, 
 principles, primary notions, and the informations of the 
 senses; and it reverses downright its order of demonstra¬ 
 tion, by making propositions and axioms, in an unbroken 
 line, ascend and mount on a ladder of elevation, from re¬ 
 corded facts and particular experiments to generic verities, 
 not by darting without a pause to principles and the higher 
 generalizations, and from them deducing and inferring in¬ 
 termediate truths. Again, the end of this our scheme of 
 science is, that things and works, not reasonings and spe¬ 
 culative probabilities, may be invented and brought to the 
 test. 
 
 Such then is the scope of the second book. Let us now, 
 in like manner, set forth its arrangement. As in the gene¬ 
 ration of light it is requisite that the body which is to 
 receive the rays be made smooth and clean, and then 
 planted in a position or conversion duly adapted to the illu¬ 
 mination, before the light itself is introduced, even so we 
 must proceed now. For lirst the area of the mind must be 
 levelled out and cleared of those things which have hitherto 
 encumbered it; next, there must be a turning of the mind 
 well and fittingly to the objects which are presented ; lastly, 
 information must be exhibited to the mind thus prepared 
 for its reception. 
 
 Now the extirpating part is threefold, according to 
 the three several classes of idols which beset the mind. 
 For such idols are either adoptive, and that in two ways, 
 having; invaded and established themselves in the mind 
 from the systems and sects of philosophy, or from an abuse 
 of the laws and methods of demonstration; or secondly, 
 they are such as are inseparable from and indigenous in 
 the essence of the mind. For as an uneven and ill cut 
 mirror distorts the true rays of things according to its own 
 incurvation of surface; so, too, the mind, subjected to the 
 impression of objects through the senses, in performing its 
 operations, interchanges and mixes up its own nature with 
 that of its objects, so as it may not be implicitly trusted. 
 
 Wherefore the first task imposed upon us is to disperse 
 utterly, and to expatriate all that army of theories which 
 has figured in so many well fought combats. To this we 
 add a second, the emancipation of the mind from the slavery 
 imposed on it by perverted laws of demonstration; which 
 is followed by a third, namely, to master the seductive bias 
 
108 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 of the mind itself, and either to extirpate its native idols, 
 or if they cannot be rooted up, so to point them out and 
 thoroughly comprehend them, that deviations may be recti¬ 
 fied. For it would be futile, and perhaps pernicious, merely 
 to overturn and explode errors in philosophy, if from the 
 incorrigible grain of the mind a new off-shoot of errors, per¬ 
 haps even degenerated from their predecessors, should 
 sprout; and not till all hope is precluded, of perfecting 
 philosophy or enlarging its empire by the exercise of or¬ 
 dinary reason, and by the helps and aids of the received 
 logic, ought we to abandon and discard them; lest haply 
 we do not thereby banish, but only change our errors. 
 Wherefore that part of the book which we term the des¬ 
 troying, consists of a threefold argument of redargution 
 or exposure; redargution of the philosophies ; redargution 
 of the demonstrations; and redargution of human reason in 
 its natural course. 
 
 And it does not escape us, that without so immense a 
 revolution, no small accretion to science might result from 
 our labours, and celebrity be attainable by a smoother path. 
 Nevertheless, being uncertain when the same views may 
 enter the mind of any other man, we have determined to 
 make a full and free profession of our creed. 
 
 After having levelled the area of the mind, it follows in 
 order, that we must place the mind in an advantageous 
 position, and, as it were, in a kindly exposure to the rays 
 of what we propound. For since, in a matter of novelty, 
 not merely the violent preoccupation of old opinion, but 
 also a false preconception or conjectural picture of that 
 which is offered, disposes to prejudice, we must also apply 
 a remedy to this disorder, and the mind must not only be 
 disencumbered but prepared. That preparation is nothing 
 more than to have true opinions of that which we allege 
 imparted provisionally only, as it were, and by way of loan, 
 previous to a thorough knowledge of the thing itself. Now 
 this mainly depends on shutting out and holding in abey¬ 
 ance those foul and malign suspicions, which we may easily 
 augur, will from the prejudices now in vogue, as from the 
 contagion of an epidemic fanatical gloom, seize upon men’s 
 minds ; wherefore it behoves us to see, as Lucretius hath it, 
 
 “ Ne qua 
 
 Occurrat facies inimica atque omnia turbet.” 
 
 First then, if any one think that the secrets of nature 
 remain shut up, as it were, with the seal of God, and by 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 109 
 
 some divine mandate interdicted to human wisdom, we shall 
 address ourselves to remove this weak and jealous notion, 
 and, relying on simple truth, shall bring the inquiry to this 
 issue, not only to silence the howl of superstition, but to 
 draw religion herself to our side. Again, if the idea should 
 occur to any one, that great and scrupulous delay in expe¬ 
 riments, and the tossing about, so to speak, on a sea of matter 
 and particular facts, which we impose on men, must needs 
 plunge the mind into a very Tartarus of confusion, and cast 
 it down from the serenity and coolness of contemplative 
 wisdom, as from a far diviner state,—we shall show and 
 establish, as we trust, for ever, (not without putting to the 
 blush the whole of that school which hesitates not to con¬ 
 cede divine, honours to fantastic reveries utterly bereft of 
 solidity), the difference that prevails between the ideas of 
 the divine and the idols of the human mind. Those also 
 to whom, absorbed in the love of meditation, our frequent 
 mention of works sounds harsh, uncouth, and mechanical, 
 shall be instructed how much they war against the attain¬ 
 ment of their own object of desire, since exact clearness of 
 contemplation, and the invention of works its underplatform, 
 depend upon and are brought to perfection by the same 
 means. If any one should still hold out, conceiving of this 
 absolute regeneration of science from its elements, as a 
 thing interminable, vast, and infinite, we shall demonstrate 
 that, on the contrary, it ought to be regarded as a true 
 boundary and a circumscribing line, marking off the region 
 of error and waste land; and we shall make it manifest, that 
 a just and full inquisition of particulars, without attempting 
 to embrace individuals, gradations, and vermiculate diffe¬ 
 rences (which is enough for the purposes of science); and 
 then notions and truths, raised from and upon the former, 
 in just method, form something infinitely more defined, 
 tangible, and intelligible, sure of itself, and clear both in 
 what hath been done, and what remains to be accomplished, 
 than floating systems and abstract subtleties, of which there 
 is indeed no end, but a ceaseless gyration, whirl, and chaos. 
 And though some sober censor (as he may think himself), 
 applying to this subject that diffidence of consequences 
 which becomes civil prudence, should consider what we 
 now say to be like men’s vain aspirations,—an indulgence 
 only of wild hope,—and that in truth nothing else will 
 follow from this remodelled state of philosophy, than that 
 new doctrines, perhaps, are substituted, but the resources 
 of mankind not at all augmented,—such a one we shall, as 
 
110 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 we conceive, induce to admit, that we are doing any thing 
 but founding a system or a sect, that our institution differs 
 wholly and generically from all that have hitherto been at¬ 
 tempted in philosophy and the sciences,—and that there is 
 the surest promise of a harvest of works, if men will only 
 not forestal the same by hastening to cut the first worthless 
 vegetation of muscus and weeds, and grasping with a 
 childish passion and vain precipitation at the first pledges 
 of works. And in handling the points we have enumerated, 
 enough, we think, shall have been done to guard against 
 that species of prejudice which is inspired by false and illi¬ 
 beral notions of the thing propounded ; and therewithal we 
 judge that our second part, which we call the preparatory, 
 is complete;—after every adverse gust from religion, from 
 theoretical speculation, and from civil wisdom, with its 
 handmaids, distrust, phlegmatic coldness, and the like, 
 shall have sunk and died away. 
 
 Yet to form a preparation in all respects perfect, it seems 
 still to be wanting, that we remove the stagnation of mind, 
 which is generated by the utter novelty of our plan. This 
 unfriendly torpor is only dispelled by the explanation of 
 its causes; for it is the knowledge of its causes alone that 
 solves the prodigy, and puts an end to the stupor of asto¬ 
 nishment. Wherefore we shall here note all those perverse 
 and troublesome obstacles by which true science hath been 
 checked and retarded, so that it is not at all astonishing 
 that men should have been so long involved, and toiled on, 
 in the meshes of error. 
 
 And in this part of the subject one thing will felicitously 
 come in, as a solid reason for hope, namely, that although 
 the true interpretation of nature, wherein we toil, be justly 
 held most difficult, yet by far the greatest part of that 
 difficulty depends upon what lies within our own power 
 and admits of correction, not on things placed beyond our 
 sphere of capacity; I mean in the mind, not in things, or 
 in the senses. 
 
 Now if any one deem that scrupulous care with which we 
 strive to prepare men’s minds is uncalled for,—that it is of 
 the nature of parade, and got up for purposes of display, 
 and should therefore desire to see denuded of all circum¬ 
 locution and the scaffolding of preliminaries, a simple state¬ 
 ment; assuredly such an insinuation, were it founded in 
 truth, would come well recommended to us. Would that it 
 were as easy for us to conquer difficulties and obstructions, 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 Ill 
 
 as to cast away idle pomp and false elaboration. But this 
 we would have men believe, that it is not without due 
 exploration of the route, that we pursue our path in such a 
 desert, especially having in hand such a theme, as it were 
 monstrous to lose by incompetent handling, and to leave 
 exposed, as by an unnatural mother. Wherefore, duly 
 meditating and contemplating the state both of nature 
 and of mind, we find the avenues to men’s understandings 
 harder of access than to things themselves, and the labour 
 of communicating not much lighter than of excogitating ; 
 and, therefore, which is almost a new feature in the in¬ 
 tellectual world, we obey the humour of the time, and 
 play the nurse, both with our own thoughts and those of 
 others. For every hollow idol is dethroned by skill, in¬ 
 sinuation, and regular approaches; whereas by violence, 
 by opposition, and by irregular and abrupt attacks, it is 
 exasperated into energy. Nor does this take place only 
 because men, enslaved by admiration of certain authors, or 
 bloated with self-sufficiency, or reluctant from some habit, 
 will not exert their candour. Even were any one willing 
 in the utmost degree to exact of himself impartiality as a 
 duty, and to forswear as it were every prejudice, it does 
 not follow that we are to repose unlimited confidence in the 
 award of a mind so disposed. For no man by mere energy 
 of will commands his intellect, the spirits of the philosophers 
 (as it is written of the prophets) are not subject to the 
 philosophers. Wherefore it is not the honesty, candour, or 
 openness to conviction of other men, which we are to confide 
 in for support, but our own care, address, and conciliation. 
 
 In which respect no small difficulty is further created to 
 us from our own character, having laid it down as an in¬ 
 violable law evermore to hold fast our integrity and in¬ 
 genuousness, and not to seek an entrance for truth through 
 hollow ways, but so to regulate our compliance as by no 
 subtle deception, by no imposture or ought that resembles 
 imposture, but only by the light of order and the skilful 
 grafting of new shoots upon the healthier part of the old, 
 to hope for the attainment of our desires. Wherefore we 
 return to this assertion, that the labour consumed by us in 
 paving the way, so far from being superfluous, is truly too 
 little for difficulties so considerable. 
 
 Leaving, therefore, the preparatory part, we now come to 
 the informing, and shall exhibit a simple and bare outline 
 of that art which we intend. 
 
112 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 The things which make for the perfecting of the intellect 
 in the interpretation of nature, may be divided into three 
 ministrations to the same, ministration to sense, ministration 
 to memory, and ministration to reason. In ministration to 
 the senses we shall make exposition of three things, first, 
 how a good notion is collected and elicited, and how the 
 testimony of sense, which is ever according to the analogy 
 of man, may be reduced and rectified to the analogy of the 
 universe. For we do not attach much weight to the imme¬ 
 diate perceptions of sense, except only in so far as it 
 manifests motion or change in its objects. Secondly, we 
 shall show how those things which baffle the sense, either 
 by intangibility of the entire substance, or by minuteness 
 of parts, or by remoteness of place, or by slowness or celerity 
 of motion, or by habitual familiarity of the object, or other¬ 
 wise, may be brought under the jurisdiction of sense, and 
 placed at its bar; and, furthermore, in cases where they 
 cannot be produced, what is then to be done; and how such 
 deficiency may be filled up by skilful noting of gradations, 
 or by informations as to inanimate bodies derived from the 
 analogy of corresponding sentient ones, or by other modes 
 and substitutions. In the last place, we shall speak of a 
 Natural History, and the method of performing experiments; 
 what that Natural History is, which will serve as a founda¬ 
 tion for philosophy; and again what method of experiment¬ 
 ing, in the want of such natural history, must be resorted 
 to; wherein we shall also interweave some observations as 
 to calling forth and arresting the attention. For there are 
 many things both in natural history and in experiments, 
 present to knowledge, absent to use, because the apprehen¬ 
 sive faculty hath been feebly drawn forth to note them. 
 
 Ministration to the senses is comprehended in three 
 particulars. The senses are to be furnished with materials, 
 with helps where they fail, and helps where they err. To the 
 materials of the senses are appropriated history and experi¬ 
 ments, to their short-comings fit substitutions, to their 
 declination rules of correction. 
 
 Ministration to memory hath this for its function; out 
 of the mass of particular facts, and the accumulation of 
 facts forming natural history general, it extracts a history 
 particular, and arranges it in such order, that the judgment 
 can forthwith act, and do its office. For it befits us pru¬ 
 dently to calculate the powers of the mind, and not to hope 
 that they can expatiate at large over the infinity of nature. 
 For it is manifest that the memory is defective and incom- 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 113 
 
 petent when it attempts to embrace the endless variety of 
 things, and, no less, that in the choosing out of such as 
 bear on some defined field of inquiry, it is unpractised and 
 unprepared. Now, as regards the former malady, the 
 mode of curing it is easy. It is performed by one remedial 
 rule, which is that no investigation or invention be enter¬ 
 tained which is not drawn from a written statement of 
 results. For it were the same for one confident in the 
 strength of memory to try to grasp the whole interpretation 
 of nature on a given subject, as to endeavour to seize and 
 perform by rote the problems of astronomy. Besides it is 
 sufficiently apparent how small is the province we allot to 
 mere memory or discourse of reason, seeing we do not 
 authenticate discovery, even when detailed in writing, save 
 by digested tables. To the latter defect, therefore, we must 
 devote more attention. And, doubtless, after the subject 
 has been measured off and defined for inquiry, and stands 
 clear and unencumbered out of the mass of things, the 
 ministration to memory seems to consist of three operations 
 or offices. First, we shall show what those things are 
 which, in regard to the subject given or propounded seem, 
 on glancing over its history of facts, the proper points for 
 inquiry, which forms a kind of argument or topic. Secondly, 
 in what order these ought to be marshalled, and digested 
 in regular tables. Nevertheless, we expect not that the 
 true vein of the subject, being of the analogy of the universe, 
 can be discovered at the outset of the inquiry, so that the 
 division might follow from it, but only the apparent one, so 
 as to suggest some sort of partition of the subject. For 
 truth shall sooner emerge from falsehood than from disorder, 
 and reason more easily rectify the division, than penetrate 
 the unsubdued mass. Then, in the third place, we shall 
 show in what method and at what time the inquisition is 
 to be recommenced, and the charts or tables preceding to 
 be brought forward to new charts, and how often the in- 
 quisition is to be repeated. For we intend the first series 
 of charts or results to form as it were moveable axes, and 
 to constitute only the verifying part of the inquisition; 
 for we have no hope of the mind’s ever pursuing and se¬ 
 curing its rightful dominion over nature, unless by repeated 
 action. The ministration, therefore, to memory consists as 
 we have said in three doctrines, of the topics of discovery, 
 of the reduction into tables, and of the method of fully 
 establishing the inquiry. 
 
 Ministration to reason remains, to which the two former 
 
 VOL. XV. I 
 
114 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 parts are only ancillary. For by them there is no building 
 up of axioms, but only the production of simple notions 
 with an orderly narration of facts, verified, indeed, by the 
 first ministration, and so exhibited by the second, as to be, 
 so to speak, placed at our disposal. Now that ministration to 
 reason claims to be most highly approved, which shall best 
 enable reason to perform its office and secure its end. The 
 office of reason is in its nature one, in its end and use 
 double. For the end of man is either to know and con¬ 
 template, or to act and execute. Wherefore the design of 
 human knowledge is to know the causes of a given effect 
 or quality in any object of thought. And again the design 
 of human agency is, upon a given basis of matter, to build or 
 superinduce any effect or quality within the limits of pos¬ 
 sibility. And these designs, on a close examination and 
 just estimate, are seen to coincide. For that which in con¬ 
 templation stands for a cause, in operation stands for a 
 mean, or instrument; since we know by causes and operate 
 by means. And doubtless if all the means which are 
 required, to what operations soever, were supplied to man’s 
 hand at pleasure, there would be no especial use in treating 
 of the two disjunctively. But since man’s operation is tied 
 up within much narrower circumscription than his know¬ 
 ledge, because of the innumerable necessities and limitations 
 of the individual, so that for the operative part there is 
 often demanded not so much a wisdom all-comprehensive 
 and free to range over possibility, as a j udgment sagacious 
 and expert in selecting from what is immediately before us; 
 it is consistent with this, to consider these things as more - 
 happily treated of apart. Wherefore we shall also make 
 like division of the ministration to reason, according as the 
 ministration is to reason active or contemplative. 
 
 As respects the contemplative part, to say it in a word, 
 all evidently turns on one point. And that is no other 
 than this, that a true axiom be established, or the same be 
 made conjunctive with other axioms, for this is gaining 
 a portion of the solid of truth, whereas a simple notion 
 isolated, is so to speak but its surface. Now such axiom is 
 not elicited or formed, save by the legitimate and appro¬ 
 priate forms of induction, which analyses and divides expe¬ 
 rience, and by proper limitations and rejections comes to 
 necessary conclusions. Now the popular induction (from 
 which the proofs of principles themselves are attempted) is 
 but a puerile toy, concluding at random, and perpetually 
 in risk of being exploded by contradictory instances: inso- 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 115 
 
 much that the dialecticians seem never once to have thought 
 of the subject in earnest, turning from it in a sort of dis¬ 
 dain, and hurrying on to other things. Meantime this is 
 manifest, that the conclusions which are attained by any 
 species of induction are at once both discovered and 
 attested, and do not depend on axioms and middle truths, 
 but stand on their own weight of evidence, and require no 
 extrinsic proof. Much more then is it necessary that those 
 axioms which are raised according; to the true form of in- 
 duction, should be of self-contained proof, surer and more 
 solid than what are termed principles themselves; and this 
 kind of induction is what we have been wont to term the 
 formula of interpretation. Therefore it is, that we desire to 
 be careful and luminous, in exposition, above all other 
 topics, of the construction of the axiom and the formula of 
 interpretation. There remain, however, subservient to this 
 end, three things of paramount importance, without explica¬ 
 tion of which, the rule of inquisition, though potent in the 
 effect, may be regarded as operose in the application. These 
 are the continuing , varying , and contracting of the inquiry, 
 so that nothing may be left in the art either half-done, or 
 inconsistent, or too much lengthened out for the shortness 
 of man’s life. We shall therefore show in the first place 
 the use of axioms (supposing them discovered by the for¬ 
 mula,) for inquiring into and raising others higher and 
 more general, so that by a succession of firm and un¬ 
 broken steps in the ladder of ascent, we may arrive at 
 the unity of nature. In this part, however, we shall add 
 the mode of examining and attesting these higher axioms 
 by the experimental results first obtained, lest we again 
 fall down to conjectures, probabilities, and idol-systems. 
 And this is the method which we term the continuing of 
 
 O 
 
 the inquiry. 
 
 The varying of the inquisition accommodates itself to 
 the different nature, either of the causes to ascertain which 
 the inquiry is set on foot, or of the things or subjects 
 about which the inquiry is occupied. Therefore discard¬ 
 ing final causes, which have hitherto utterly vitiated natu¬ 
 ral philosophy, we shall commence with an inquiry, on the 
 plan of varying and adaptation, into forms, a branch which 
 has hitherto been abandoned as hopeless and not unrea¬ 
 sonably. For no one can be so privileged either in his 
 powers of mind or in his good fortune, as to detect the 
 form of any thing by means of presumptive conjectures 
 and scholastic logic. Then follow the divers sorts of mat- 
 
116 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 ter and of efficients. Now when we use the terms matter 
 and efficients, we do not point to ultimate efficients, or to 
 matter taken generically (such as are discussed in the dis¬ 
 putations of the schools), but to proximate efficients and 
 preparations of matter. Lest men should labour in these, 
 however, by a vain repetition and refining of experiments, 
 we shall in this part introduce the doctrine of discovering 
 latent processes. Now we give the name of latent process 
 to a certain series and gradation of changes, formed by the 
 action of an efficient and the motion of parts in matter 
 subjected to that action. The varying of the inquiry as it 
 respects its subjects is derived from two states of things, 
 either from their elementary or compound character, (for 
 there is one modification of the inquiry adapted to things 
 simple, another to things compound, or decomposed, or 
 ambiguous), or from the copiousness or poverty of the 
 natural history which may have been collected to advance 
 the inquiry. For when the history is rich in facts the 
 progress of the inquisition is prompt; when limited, it is 
 labour in shackles, and demands manifold assiduity and 
 skill. So then by handling the points we have now re¬ 
 counted, we shall have, as it seems to us, sufficiently dis¬ 
 cussed the varying of the inquiry. 
 
 There remains the contracting of the inquiry, so as not 
 only to demonstrate and make patent a way in places path¬ 
 less before, but a short cut in that way, and as it were a 
 straight line of progression, which shall go direct through 
 circuitous and perplexed routes. Now this (like every 
 other kind of abridging) consists mainly in the selection 
 of things. And we shall find that there are in things 
 two prerogatives, so to speak, of sovereign efficacy in 
 abridging investigation, the prerogative of the instance, 
 and the prerogative of that which is inquired into. Where¬ 
 fore we shall point out in the first place what those in¬ 
 stances or experiments are, which are privileged above the 
 rest to give forth light, so that a few of them afford as 
 much weight as a multitude of others. For this both 
 saves accumulation of the history and the toil of beating 
 about indefinitely. We shall then expound what are the 
 subjects of inquisition, from which the investigation ought 
 to borrow its prelibation of omens, as those which being 
 first disposed of, carry, as it were, a torch before their suc¬ 
 cessors, either by reason of their own consummate cer¬ 
 tainty, or generic quality, or from their being indispensable 
 to mechanical trials. And here we close the ministration 
 to reason regarded in its character of contemplative. 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 117 
 
 The doctrine of the active part of reason and its minis¬ 
 tration, we shall comprehend in three directions, first pre¬ 
 mising two admonitions to open an entrance into the 
 minds of men. The first of these is, that in the inquiry, 
 proceeding according to the formula laid down, the active 
 part of reason should have a perpetual intercommunion 
 with the contemplative. For the nature of things con¬ 
 strains that the propositions and axioms inferred and 
 trained down to particular and practical uses, by process 
 of reasoning, should yield only a sort of guesses exceed¬ 
 ingly obscure and imperfect. Whereas an axiom drawn 
 from particulars to new and corresponding ones, leads on 
 investigation in a broad and indestructible path. The 
 other premonition is this, that we remember that, in the 
 active branch of the inquiry, the business is to be accom¬ 
 plished by means of the ladder of descent, the use of which 
 we waived in the contemplative. For every operation is 
 occupied about individual experiments whose place is at 
 the bottom of all. We must therefore descend the steps 
 that lie between general truths and these. Nor, again, is 
 it practicable to get at these by means of axioms taken 
 unconnectedly; for every practical operation, and the mode 
 of performing it, is at once suggested and effected by 
 applying a combination of isolated axioms. With these 
 preliminaries then, we come to our threefold exposition 
 of the doctrine of active interpretation. The first part 
 propounds a defined and appropriate method of inquiry, in 
 which not the cause or governing axiom, but the effecting 
 of any operation is the object in view, and is submitted to 
 examination. The second shows the way of making gene¬ 
 ral tables with a special view to practice, in which may be 
 much more easily and readily found all sorts of sugges¬ 
 tions and indications of works. The third subjoins a mode 
 of ascertaining and striking out new practical uses, an in¬ 
 complete mode no doubt, and yet not without utility, which 
 travels from one experiment to another, without deducing 
 of axioms. For as from axiom to axiom, so from experi¬ 
 ment to experiment, there is presented and opened up a 
 passage to discovery, narrow indeed and slippery, yet not 
 to be wholly passed over in silence. And here we con¬ 
 clude the ministration to practice being the last in the 
 order of distribution. This then is a plain and succinct 
 abstract of the second book. 
 
 These things being unfolded, we trust to have well con¬ 
 structed and furnished withal, the marriage chamber of 
 mind and the universe, the divine goodness not disdaining 
 
118 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 to be bridemaid. Let it then be the votive part of the 
 nuptial hymn, that from their union may rise and descend 
 a progeny of helps to man’s life, a line, so to speak, of 
 heroes to conquer and command the wants and the mise¬ 
 ries of humanity. 
 
 At the conclusion we shall add some remarks on the 
 combination and the succession of scientific efforts. For 
 then, and not till then, shall men know their own strength, 
 not when multitudes devote themselves as now to the same 
 tasks, but when some shall appropriate what is neglected 
 by the rest. Nor truly have we abandoned hope of after¬ 
 times, that there shall rise up men to advance to a nobler 
 state a work commencing from such slender beginnings. 
 For it is borne in upon our mind, that what is now done, 
 from the supreme importance of the good it contains to 
 man, is manifestly of God. And in His workings, every 
 the most insignificant germ of the future is pregnant with 
 results. 
 
 Now in the redarguti on of the received philosophies 
 which we intend, we scarcely know whither at first to turn 
 ourselves, since the avenue to confutation of the same, 
 which was to others open, is to us inhibited. And besides, 
 so many and so vast are the troops of error which present 
 themselves, that we must overthrow and dislodge them, 
 not in close detail but in mass : and if we would draw near 
 unto them, and try conclusions, hand to hand, with each of 
 them individually, it were in vain: the rule of all reason¬ 
 ing being set aside, differing as we do from them in our 
 principles, and repudiating as w 7 e do the very forms and 
 authority of their proofs and demonstrations. And if 
 (which seems to be the only thing left for us to do) we 
 attempted to infer and derive from experience the truths 
 we maintain, we are only turning back to the starting- 
 point. And forgetting what we have discoursed of the 
 preparing of men’s minds, we are found going directly the 
 opposite way: and falling all at once and prematurely on 
 nature ;* to which we have pronounced it absolutely neces¬ 
 sary that we open up and pave a way, because of the obdu¬ 
 rate prejudices and impediments of the minds of men. 
 Nevertheless we shall not be wanting to ourselves, but shall 
 try to confront them, and prove our strength, in manner 
 accommodated to our design, both by producing certain 
 tokens from which an estimate may be formed of these 
 philosophies, and meanwhile noting among the philoso¬ 
 phies themselves, so as to shake their authority, certain 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 119 
 
 prodigies of perversion, and laughing-stocks to intelligence, 
 which they furnish. 
 
 Yet it escapes us not that the mass of such errors is 
 too much consolidated to be at once overthrown; espe¬ 
 cially as among learned men, it is no unusual or unheard of 
 arrogance, wilfully to reject opinions which they cannot 
 shake. Nor shall we offer aught too light or low for the 
 grandeur of the interest which is at stake, nor in this sort 
 of redargution attempt to make converts to our creed, 
 hoping only meantime to conciliate patience and candour, 
 and that only in minds of a more commanding and de¬ 
 cisive order. For no one can betake himself to us, fresh 
 from the habitual and unceasing companionship of such 
 errors, with such openness and greatness of mind, as not 
 to retain some bias to his impressions and opinions in favour 
 of inveterate and established systems. You cannot in¬ 
 scribe fresh characters on the writing-tablet without ex¬ 
 punging the former ones; but, in the mind, you will 
 scarcely obliterate the first drawn characters, save by in¬ 
 scribing others. 
 
 This bias, as we think, ought to be counteracted, and 
 these our statements have this scope, (we speak it without 
 reserve), to lead men willing, not to drag them reluctant. 
 All forcing, (as we from the first professed), we would 
 banish: and as Borgia jestingly noted of the invasion of 
 Italy by Charles the Eighth, that the French had come 
 with chalk in their hands to mark the public-houses, not 
 arms to force their way through the land; so we too anti¬ 
 cipate a like pacific tone and result of our discoveries, 
 namely, that they shall segregate minds of large capacity 
 from the crowd, and into these shall make their way, 
 rather than be obnoxious to men of opposite opinions. 
 
 But in this part of our subject, in which we now treat of 
 the redargution of the vulgar philosophies, our task hath 
 been happily lightened by a timely and extraordinary cir¬ 
 cumstance. For while meditating these points, there came 
 to me a certain friend, then returning from France, of whom, 
 after due courtesy done, I inquired much, as he (in the 
 wont of intimate friends) of me, in regard of our various 
 affairs. u But how do you employ,” said he at length, 
 “ those intervals which are unoccupied with public busi¬ 
 ness, or at least wherein its bustle abates.” “ A question 
 in good time,” I answered; “ lest you should suppose I do 
 nothing at all in such hours, I must tell you, I now medi¬ 
 tate a renovation of philosophy, which shall embrace no- 
 
120 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 thing airy or abstract, and which shall advance the interests 
 of mankind.” “ A noble undertaking, doubtless,” said 
 he; “ but whom have you for associates in this work ?” 
 “ None at all,” was my reply; “ I have not even a person 
 with whom I can converse without reserve on such subjects, 
 none at least in whose converse I can explain myself, and 
 whet my purpose.” “ A hard fate,” he said, “ yet know,” 
 he immediately added, “ that others have also at heart such 
 subjects.” Whereupon I exclaimed with joy, “ Precious 
 raindrop of hope, that hast at last sprinkled my thirsty 
 spirit, and recalled me to life. Why I met not long ago a 
 certain evil-eyed old fortune-telling woman, who muttering 
 I know not what, prophesied that my offspring should die 
 in the desert.” “ Would you,” said he, “that I mention 
 a circumstance relating to such matters, which I met with 
 myself in France.” “ Most willingly,” I replied, “ and shall 
 be grateful besides.” 
 
 He then related that he had, while at Paris, been invifed 
 and introduced by a friend of his to an assembly of per¬ 
 sonages, “ such,” said he, “ as you too would have loved 
 to see. No occurrence of my life was ever more delightful 
 than that introduction. There were about fifty present, 
 none young, but all mature of years, and of whom each in 
 his aspect wore a stamp of dignity and of honour.” He 
 related, that among them he recognized men who had held 
 offices of state, others senators of the realm, divers eminent 
 ecclesiastics, and some generally of all the notable classes 
 of the body politic. And when he entered at first, he found 
 them occupied with easy converse one with another, yet 
 they were ranged on seats placed with some formality of 
 order, and sate as if expecting some one’s coming. 
 
 Not long after there came to them a personage of an 
 aspect, as he thought, mild and exceedingly placid, yet the 
 comportment of his features was as of one that pitied men. 
 And, when they all stood up to receive him, he looked around, 
 and said with a smile; “ I could never have conceived, 
 now that I recognize your features, one after another, that 
 the idle hour of all of you should have fallen upon the same 
 nook of time, and I cannot enough admire how it hath so 
 occurred.” Whereupon one of the assembly made answer, 
 that it was he himself that had occasioned that leisure, 
 seeing that what they expected to reap from him, they 
 regarded as preferable to all business. “ I perceive,” he an¬ 
 swered, “ that the whole waste of the time here consumed, in 
 which each of you, if apart, might have benefited many, is 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 121 
 
 to be charged to my account. If this be so, I must see, in 
 good sooth, that I detain you not over long.” With these 
 words he sate down, not on an elevated seat or academic 
 chair, but on a level with the rest, and discoursed to the 
 assembly, somewhat to the following effect. For my in¬ 
 formant said, that he tried as he might to catch up the ad¬ 
 dress, but while going over his remembrances of it with the 
 friend who had introduced him, they seemed far short of 
 what had then been spoken. He then produced a specimen 
 of the speech which he had taken down, and which he had 
 then about him. 
 
 “ My sons, ye are doubtless but men and mortal, yet 
 will ye not so much repine at the terms of your being, if ye 
 sufficiently remember your nature. God the creator of the 
 world and of you, has endowed you with souls to contain 
 that world, and yet remain unfilled and unsatisfied. Where¬ 
 fore he has claimed your faith for himself, but the world 
 he hath submitted to your sense; and hath decreed that 
 the oracles of both should not be clear, but ambiguous, so 
 as profitably to exercise you, and to balance the excellency 
 of the things discovered. Now as regards truths divine 
 my hope of you is good: but as concerns things human I 
 am in fear for you, lest you be involved in a train of endless 
 errors. For I consider, that you are intimately persuaded 
 of one thing, namely, that you now enjoy a flourishing 
 and auspicious state of science. I on the other hand ad¬ 
 monish you, not to regard the copiousness or utility of the 
 knowledge you possess, as if you had been exalted to some 
 pinnacle of superiority, or had satisfied your aspirations, 
 or completed your labours. Revolve the matter thus : 
 
 “If you take to task the whole of that huge congeries of 
 writings wherewith the sciences are so puffed out and over¬ 
 grown, and mark them with a strict and sifting scrutiny, 
 you shall every where note infinite repetitions of the same 
 thing, diversified in words, arrangement, examples, and 
 illustrations, yet in the sum and weight and real effect of 
 things all anticipated, and manifestly only repetitions, so as 
 there is at once poverty and parade, arrogance and miser¬ 
 ablejejuneness. And if I may be allowed a colloquial ease 
 and pleasantry on this subject, this learning of yours very 
 much resembles the well known supper of the host of 
 Chalcis, who being asked whence he had such store of 
 different hunter’s fare: answered that all his dishes were 
 of the flesh of a tame boar. For you will not deny that 
 the whole of that seeming copiousness is nothing but frag- 
 
122 
 
 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 ments of the philosophy of the Greeks, and that not reared, 
 to continue the metaphor, in the woods and wilds of nature, 
 but styed up in the schools and scholastic cells like the 
 domesticated animal. For if you give up the Greeks, and 
 a few Greeks too, what (I pray you) have the Romans or 
 Arabs, which doth not emanate from, and fall back into, 
 the systems of Aristotle, Plato, Hippocrates, Galen, Euclid, 
 and Ptolemy ? Thus you see your entire hopes and fortunes 
 wrapt up in the weak brains and limited souls of about 
 half a dozen mortals. Yet it was not for this that God 
 implanted in you reasonable souls, that you should obse¬ 
 quiously give up to human beings that part of you which 
 he vindicates for himself,—implicit faith due only to the 
 things of God. Nor hath he allotted to you the firm 
 and vivid informations of the senses, to contemplate the 
 works of a few men, but his own works, his heaven and 
 earth, celebrating the while his glory in your hearts, and 
 while you lift up a hymn to your Great Author, admitting, 
 if you will, these mortals, (and wherefore should you refuse), 
 to a place beside you in the worshipping quire.” 
 
 W. G. G. 
 
 THE PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE; 
 
 OR, 
 
 NATURAL HISTORY 
 
 FOR THE BASIS OF NATURAL PHILOSOPHY. 
 
 PREFACE. 
 
 Upon my taking into consideration the errors that prevail 
 with respect to the true grounds of forming theories and 
 conducting experiments, I felt it my duty myself to remedy 
 these evils, to the best of my ability. There cannot indeed 
 be any thing more meritorious than to lead men to throw 
 off the masks of authorities and their blind admiration of 
 experiments, and to enter into a nearer communion with 
 things themselves and a thorough investigation of them. 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 123 
 
 For so our knowledge of them will be at once deep and 
 secure, and will be moreover at hand, and the sources of 
 utility will be multiplied. But the first principles of this 
 design must be derived from the knowledge of nature. For 
 all the philosophy of the Greeks, with all their different 
 sects, and, indeed, whatever other philosophy may be men¬ 
 tioned, appears to have been built upon too narrow a basis 
 and on an insufficient acquaintance with nature. For 
 taking up some few things from experience and from tra¬ 
 dition, and that sometimes without accurate examination, 
 they placed the rest in meditation and in the exercise of 
 their ingenuity; relying too much upon dialectics: but the 
 chymists and the whole class of mechanics and empirics, 
 if they conducted their observations and philosophy with 
 more boldness, being accustomed to an accurate nicety in 
 some things, bend all others by the most singular methods 
 to them; and give out opinions the most monstrous and 
 unnatural. For the one class, out of many things take but 
 little, the other out of but little take much into the body of 
 their philosophy; and to speak the truth, the method of 
 either class is unsound, and will not hold. But the know¬ 
 ledge of nature which has been hitherto collected, however 
 copious it may at first sight appear, is really meagre and 
 unprofitable. Neither is it of that kind for which we are 
 inquiring. Nor is it yet cleared of fable and absurdity, 
 but runs out into antiquity and philology, and relations 
 of things unconnected with it, neglecting and rejecting 
 what is solid, but laboriously curious upon trifles. * But the 
 worst of this kind of copiousness is this, that it embraces 
 the investigation of natural objects, and yet for the most 
 part declines the study of things mechanical. And these 
 are the very things which by far excel the others in the 
 searching out the secrets of nature, for nature being of 
 itself vast and diffuse, dissipates the mind and confounds 
 it by its variety. But in mechanical operations the judg¬ 
 ment is collected and the designs and workings of nature 
 are discerned, and not the effects only. And besides, all 
 the subtlety of mechanics stops short of the object which 
 we seek. For the person thus employed being intent upon 
 his work and object, neither raises his mind nor stretches 
 forth his hand to other things, and which perchance avail 
 more to the investigation of nature. There is need, there¬ 
 fore, of greater care and choice kinds of examination and 
 even of expense, and moreover of the greatest patience. 
 For this hath rendered every thing in the department of 
 experiment useless, that men have from the beginning 
 
124 
 
 PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 sought out experiments for the sake of gain and not of 
 knowledge, and have been intent upon bringing out 
 something magnificent, not upon revealing the oracles of 
 nature, which is the work of works, and comprehends all 
 power in itself. And this evil hath been occasioned by the 
 fastidious curiosity of men, in generally turning their at¬ 
 tention to the secrets and rarities of nature, and in expending 
 all their research upon these, passing over experiments 
 and ordinary observations with contempt. And they seem 
 to have been determined to this choice either from the 
 pursuit of applause, or from having fallen into this error, 
 that the office of philosophy is as much to trace the cause 
 of ordinary occurrences and the remoter causes of those 
 causes, as it is to harmonize extraordinary with ordinary 
 events. But the caus&of this universal complaint respect¬ 
 ing natural history is chiefly this, that men have not merely 
 erred in their mode of proceeding but in their design. For 
 that natural history which now exists seems to have been 
 composed either on account of the profitableness of experi¬ 
 ments or the pleasure of details, and to have been made for 
 its own sake, and not to serve as the elements and as it 
 were to be the nurse of philosophy and the sciences. It is 
 therefore my design, as far as lies in my power, to supply 
 this deficiency. For I have long since made up my opinion 
 as to the province of abstract philosophies: it is my in¬ 
 tention also to adhere to the methods of true and good 
 induction, in which are contained all things; and, as it were, 
 by the h£lp of instruments or by a clue to a labyrinth, to 
 assist as much as possible the power of the human under¬ 
 standing, of itself inadequate and very unequal to the 
 attainment of the sciences. And I am at the same time 
 aware that if I would include in that restoration of the 
 sciences, which I have in contemplation, any greater scope, 
 
 I might indeed reap the greater honour. 
 
 But since it has pleased God to give me a mind that can 
 learn to yield to circumstances, and out of a sense of real 
 desert and confidence of success to reject with readiness 
 what is only plausible, I have taken upon myself that part 
 of the work which would probably have been passed over 
 by others altogether, or would not have been treated in 
 accordance with my design. And there are two admonitions 
 which I would give on this head, as at other times, so 
 especially now, in proceeding to this very thing: first, that 
 we should dismiss that notion, which though so thoroughly 
 false and destructive, easily takes possession of the mind, 
 that the investigation of particular objects is an infinite 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 125 
 
 and endless task: when the truth rather is, that there is 
 no bound to mere opinions and disputes, but that those 
 fantasies are condemned to perpetual error and endless 
 uncertainty: but that those particular objects and the 
 informations of sense (taking out individuals and degrees 
 of things, which suffices for the investigation of truth) 
 certainly admit of comprehension, and that neither too 
 wide and extensive, nor too difficult and adventurous. And 
 secondly, that men frequently bear the object in mind, and 
 that when they fall upon the consideration of very many 
 of the most ordinary, small, and apparently trivial and even 
 low subjects, and which, as Aristotle says, seem to require 
 a previous apology, they will not think that I am trifling, 
 or taking down the dignity of the human mind. For these 
 things are not sought out or described for their own sakes, 
 but no other way is open to the human understanding, nor 
 any other method left of pursuing this work; since we are 
 attempting an object of unrivalled importance and most 
 worthy of the human mind, to kindle in this our age through 
 means offered and applied by the Deity himself, the pure 
 light of nature, the name indeed the boast of men, the 
 thing itself entirely unknown. Nor do I dissemble my 
 opinion that that preposterous subtlety of arguments and 
 imaginations in the time of which the subtlety and truth 
 of the first information or true induction was either passed 
 ever or ill set on foot, can never effect a restoration though 
 all the genius of past ages should unite in the design; but 
 that nature like fortune has her hair only upon her fore¬ 
 head. It remains, therefore, that the work be entirely 
 recommenced, and that with greater helps, and laying 
 aside the heats of opinion, an entrance be opened into the 
 kingdom of philosophy and of the sciences (in which all 
 the wealth of man is stored, for nature is overcome only 
 by yielding) in the same manner as into the kingdom of 
 heaven, into which we cannot enter but as little children. 
 But the profit of this work, that plebeian and promiscuous 
 advantage derived from experiments themselves, we do not 
 altogether condemn, since it can doubtless marry desirable 
 suggestions to the observation and invention of men accord¬ 
 ing to their various arts and talents. But we deem it 
 extremely small in comparison of that entrance into human 
 knowledge and power, which through the divine mercy, we 
 look for. And of that mercy we again desire, that it may 
 see fit to enrich anew the human family through our 
 hands. 
 
 The nature of things is either free as in species, or con- 
 
126 
 
 PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 fused as in monsters, or straightened as in the experiments 
 of the arts; but it acts in whatever class are worthy of 
 commemoration. But the history of species which at pre¬ 
 sent exists, as of animals, metals, and fossils, is tumid and 
 impertinent; the history of prodigies vain and grounded 
 upon slight reports; the history of experiments imperfect, 
 tried by parts, treated negligently, and made entirely with 
 a view to action and not philosophy. It is, therefore, my 
 design to contract the history of species, to examine and 
 revise the history of prodigies, and to put forth my prin¬ 
 cipal labours upon experiments mechanical and artificial, 
 and upon the subjection of nature to the hand of man. 
 For what are the sports and wantonings, as it were, of na¬ 
 ture to us? that is those trifling differences of species 
 according to their forms, which are of no service to our 
 pursuits, and with which natural history nevertheless teems. 
 The knowledge of things wonderful is indeed pleasant to 
 us, if freed from the fabulous, but on what account does it 
 afford us pleasure ? not from any delight that is in admira¬ 
 tion itself, but because it frequently intimates to art its 
 office, that from the knowledge of nature it may lead it 
 whither it sometimes preceded it by its own unassisted 
 power. To artificial experiments we entirely attribute the 
 first place in kindling the light of nature, not so much be¬ 
 cause they are highly useful of themselves, but because 
 they are the most faithful interpreters of natural occur¬ 
 rences. Would any one, for instance, have so clearly ex¬ 
 plained the nature of lightning or of the rainbow, before the 
 reason of both was demonstrated, of the one through the 
 instruments of war, of the other through the artificial re¬ 
 semblances of the rainbow on the wall. But if they are 
 faithful interpreters of causes, they will also be certain and 
 successful signs of their effects and operations. And I shall 
 not depart from this threefold division of my history to 
 treat each subject separately, but shall mix the kinds them¬ 
 selves natural with artificial, ordinary with extraordinary, 
 and keeping close to every subject in proportion to its 
 utility. 
 
 It is usual to begin with the phenomena of the air. 
 But in strict adherence to my object, I should prefer those 
 phenomena which constitute and produce a more common 
 nature of which both globes partake. We will begin, 
 therefore, with the history of bodies according to that dis¬ 
 tinction which appears the simplest, that is, the quantity 
 or paucity of matter contained and extended within the 
 same space or the same boundaries. For as no axiom in 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 127 
 
 nature is more certain than that twofold one, that out of 
 nothing nothing comes, and that there is not anything which 
 can be reduced to nothing, but that the quantum itself of 
 nature, or the universal sum of matter, is ever the same, 
 admitting neither of increase nor of diminution ; so it is not 
 less certain, although it has not been so clearly remarked or 
 asserted (whatever men may pretend respecting the power 
 of matter being equally proportioned to its forms), that out 
 of that quantum of matter more or less is contained tinder 
 the same dimensions of space, according to the difference of 
 the bodies by which they are occupied, of which some are 
 very evidently found to be more compact, others more ex¬ 
 tended or diffused. For a vessel or a cavity filled with 
 water and air cannot receive the same portion of matter, 
 but the one more and the other less. If, therefore, any one 
 were to assert that from an equal quantity of air an equal 
 quantity of water could be produced, it would be the same 
 with asserting that something could be produced out of 
 nothing. For that must, of course, be supplied out of no¬ 
 thing which is supposed to be wanting in matter. Again, 
 if it were asserted that an equal quantity of water could be 
 turned into the same quantity of air, it would be the same 
 with asserting that something could be reduced to nothing. 
 For the superfluous matter must, of course, have vanished 
 into nothing. And I do not doubt that this will admit of 
 calculation imperceptible in some respects, but definite and 
 certain, and known to nature. As, if one were to say, that 
 a body of gold compared with a body of spirit of wine were 
 a collection of matter exceeding in a ratio of twenty to one, 
 or thereabout, he would speak the truth. In setting forth, 
 therefore, that history which I have spoken of, respecting 
 the quantity and paucity of matter, and the union and ex¬ 
 pansion of matter, from which those notions of density 
 and rarity (if rightly considered) have their rise, I shall 
 preserve this order; in the first place, to give an account of 
 the relative proportions of different bodies (as of gold, 
 water, oil, fire), and having examined the ratios of different 
 bodies, I will afterwards treat of thefetirings and excursions 
 of the same body, with calculations or proportions. For 
 the same body, without accession or subtraction, or with 
 the smallest possible degree of either, from various impulses 
 both external and internal is able to gather itself into a 
 greater and lesser sphere. For sometimes the body endea¬ 
 vours to return to its former sphere, and sometimes evidently 
 exceeds it. In the first place then, I will enumerate the 
 courses, differences, and proportions of any natural body 
 
’128 
 
 PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 (in relation to its extent), comparing them with its inter¬ 
 stices or pores, that is, its pulverizations, calcinations, vitri¬ 
 fications, dissolutions, distillations, vapours, exhalations, 
 and inflammations. In the next place, I shall lay down 
 the actions and motions themselves, the extent and bounds 
 of the contraction and dilatation, and when the bodies 
 return to themselves, and when they exceed according to 
 the measure of their extent; but I shall note particularly 
 the efficients and means through which this kind of con¬ 
 tractions and dilatations of bodies follow, and, in the 
 meantime, shall subjoin by the way, the powers and ac¬ 
 tions which accrue to bodies from such compressions and 
 dilatations. 
 
 And as I well know how difficult it is in the present 
 state of the mind to acquire a familiarity with nature now 
 from the very elements, I shall add my own observations, 
 in order to excite the attention and raise the thoughts of 
 others. But with respect to demonstration, whether as to 
 the discovery of the density and rarity of bodies, I have no 
 doubt that, with respect to thick and palpable bodies, the 
 motion of gravity, as it is called, can be assumed as the 
 best as well as readiest proof; for the gravity of a body 
 will be in proportion to its compactness. But after we 
 have come to the class of ethereal and spiritual substances, 
 then indeed we have no measure or rule whereby to go, and 
 shall need another method of investigation. But we will 
 begin with gold, the heaviest of all bodies within our know¬ 
 ledge (for philosophy is not yet so matured as that we 
 ought to venture an opinion respecting the bowels of the 
 earth), and embraces the greatest quantity of matter in the 
 smallest space; and we shall apply the ratios of other 
 bodies to the sphere of this; intimating, however, that here 
 we scarcely touch upon the history of weights, except as 
 far as it may throw light upon the demonstrating of the 
 dimensions of bodies. But as our design is not to publish 
 conjectures, but to discover and gain knowledge, and this 
 appears to lie in the examination and proof of the first ex¬ 
 periments, I have determined in every very subtle experi¬ 
 ment to subjoin the mode of experiment I have made use 
 of, that after it is clearly ascertained how each thing by 
 itself appears to me, men may see how far they may rest 
 satisfied, and what further remains to be done, whether in the 
 correction of errors which may still cleave to the work, or in 
 the calling forth and employing of more accurate modes of 
 proof. And I will for my own part diligently and sincerely 
 intimate those subjects which appear to me to be less satis- 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE 
 
 129 
 
 factorily explored, and to lie as it were nearer and more 
 open to error. Lastly, I will add my own observations, as 
 I before said, so that whilst every part of philosophy is pre¬ 
 served entire, I may yet even by the way turn the face itself 
 of natural history toward philosophy. It will be my care 
 also to remark whatever those things are, whether experi¬ 
 ments or observations which occur and intervene beside the 
 scope of our inquiry, and pertain to other denominations, 
 that the investigation may be kept distinct. 
 
 A TABLE OF THE CONJUNCTION AND EXPANSION OF MATTER THROUGH 
 SPACE IN TANGIBLE BODIES, WITH A CALCULATION OF THEIR 
 RATIOS IN DIFFERENT BODIES. 
 
 That occupy the same space, or are equally extended. 
 
 An oz. or dwt. gr. 
 
 
 An oz. or dwt. 
 
 gr. 
 
 
 Of pure gold 
 
 20 0 
 
 1 
 
 Of agate 
 
 1 
 
 5 
 
 41 
 
 quicksilver 
 
 19 9 
 
 2 
 
 new onion in the 
 
 
 
 
 lead 
 
 12 h 
 
 3 
 
 lump, or fresh 
 
 1 
 
 5 
 
 42 
 
 silver 
 
 10 21 
 
 4 
 
 camphire 
 
 1 
 
 4 
 
 43 
 
 tin-glass 
 
 10 13 
 
 5 
 
 fresh dry fig-root 
 
 1 
 
 4 
 
 44 
 
 copper 
 
 9 8 
 
 6 
 
 ebony 
 
 1 
 
 3* 
 
 45 
 
 chalciform gold 
 
 9 5 
 
 7 
 
 seeds of sweet fen¬ 
 
 
 
 
 steel 
 
 8 10 
 
 8 
 
 nel 
 
 1 
 
 
 46 
 
 brass 
 
 8 9 
 
 9 
 
 clear amber 
 
 1 
 
 3 
 
 47 
 
 iron 
 
 8 6 
 
 10 
 
 vinegar 
 
 1 
 
 34 
 
 48 
 
 tin 
 
 7 22 
 
 11 
 
 verjuice of sour 
 
 
 
 
 the loadstone 
 
 5 12 
 
 12 
 
 apples 
 
 1 
 
 3 
 
 49 
 
 the touchstone 
 
 3 1 
 
 13 
 
 of water 
 
 1 
 
 3 a little under. 
 
 50 
 
 marble 
 
 2 22| 
 
 14 
 
 urine 
 
 1 
 
 3 
 
 51 
 
 flint 
 
 2 22^ 
 
 15 
 
 oil of date-leaves 
 
 1 
 
 3 a little uuder. 
 
 52 
 
 glass 
 
 2 20£ 
 
 16 
 
 claret 
 
 1 
 
 2| 
 
 53 
 
 chrystal 
 
 2 18 
 
 17 
 
 white sugar 
 
 1 
 
 2 4 
 
 54 
 
 alabaster 
 
 2 12 
 
 18 
 
 red wax 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 55 
 
 rock-salt 
 
 2 10 
 
 19 
 
 china-root 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 56 
 
 common loam 
 
 2 8* 
 
 20 
 
 substance of raw 
 
 
 
 
 white loam 
 
 2 5J 
 
 21 
 
 winter pear 
 
 1 
 
 2 
 
 57 
 
 nitre 
 
 2 5 
 
 22 
 
 distilled vinegar 
 
 1 
 
 1 
 
 58 
 
 ox bones 
 
 2 5 
 
 23 
 
 distilled rosewater 1 
 
 1 
 
 59 
 
 powdered marga 
 
 - 
 
 
 ashes 
 
 1 
 
 04 
 
 60 
 
 rites 
 
 2 2 
 
 24 
 
 benjamin 
 
 1 
 
 0 
 
 61 
 
 sulphur 
 
 2 2 
 
 25 
 
 myrrh 
 
 1 
 
 0 
 
 62 
 
 common earth 
 
 2 li 
 
 26 
 
 butter 
 
 1 
 
 0 
 
 63 
 
 white vitriol 
 
 1 22 
 
 27 
 
 fat 
 
 1 
 
 0 
 
 64 
 
 ivory 
 
 1 21£ 
 
 28 
 
 oil of sweet al¬ 
 
 
 
 
 alum 
 
 1 21 
 
 29 
 
 monds 
 
 0 
 
 231 
 
 
 oil of vitriol 
 
 1 21 
 
 30 
 
 oil extracted from 
 
 
 
 white sand 
 
 1 20 
 
 31 
 
 green mace 
 
 0 
 
 231 
 
 
 chalk 
 
 1 18£ 
 
 32 
 
 herb sweet mar¬ 
 
 
 
 
 oil of sulphur 
 
 1 18 
 
 33 
 
 joram 
 
 0 
 
 22 
 
 
 common salt 
 
 1 10 
 
 34 
 
 petroleum 
 
 0 
 
 23 
 
 
 lignum vitae 
 
 1 10 
 
 35 
 
 flower of rose 
 
 0 
 
 22 
 
 
 sheep’s flesh 
 
 1 10 
 
 36 
 
 spirit of wine 
 
 0 
 
 22 
 
 
 aqua fortis 
 
 1 7 
 
 37 
 
 oak 
 
 0 
 
 19* 
 
 
 ox’s horn 
 
 1 6 
 
 38 
 
 soot 
 
 0 
 
 17 
 
 
 Indian balsam 
 
 1 6 
 
 39 
 
 fir 
 
 0 
 
 15 
 
 
 red sandal woot 
 
 1 5 
 
 40 
 
 
 
 
 
 VOL: XV. K 
 
130 
 
 PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 THE MODE OF EXPERIMENT UPON THE ABOVE TABLE. 
 
 Let the weights which I have used be understood to be of 
 the same kind and computation with those of goldsmiths, 
 a pound being twelve ounces, and an ounce twenty penny¬ 
 weights, a pennyweight twenty-four grains. I have chosen 
 gold as a standard of the ratios of other bodies, according to 
 the measure of its extension, not so much because it is the 
 heaviest of bodies, as because it is the most unique. For 
 other bodies which, in some degree, partake of inconstancy, 
 even after they have been tried by fire, retain a diversity of 
 weight and dimension; but pure gold appears to be en¬ 
 tirely free from this property, and to be the same in all cir¬ 
 cumstances. The experiment adopted in this case was 
 this: I made an ounce of pure gold into the form of a 
 cube; I then prepared a small square vessel to receive that 
 body of gold, and to agree with it exactly, except that it 
 was a little too high; yet so as that there might be marked, 
 by a distinct line, a space within the vessel in which the 
 gold cube might ascend. I did that for the sake of fluids, 
 that, when any fluid was to be put into the same vessel, it 
 might not flow over, but, by this method, be more conve¬ 
 niently preserved in an accurate measure. I had, at the 
 same time, another vessel made in size and weight equal 
 with the former, that in a like vessel the ratio of the con¬ 
 tents of the body might appear by itself. Then I had 
 made cubes of the same magnitude or dimensions in all 
 those materials specified in the table, which were capable 
 of division. But the fluids I made use of at the time, by 
 filling the vessel until the fluid ascended to the place that 
 was marked; and the powders in the same manner; but 
 those as closely pressed as possible; but this with an espe¬ 
 cial view to their lying even and not suffering injury. The 
 proof, therefore, was no other than that one of the vessels 
 being empty, should be put with an ounce in one scale, 
 another of the vessels in another, with a body in the lump, 
 and the ratio of the weight be taken; so that in the pro¬ 
 portion of its diminution would the dimensions of the same 
 body be increased. For example, when a cube of gold 
 gives one ounce, but one of fat a pennyweight, it is clear 
 that the extension of the body of gold, compared with the 
 extension of the body of fat, has a twentieth ratio. It was 
 desirable also, that the mode should be noted down of the 
 measure which comprehended an ounce of gold; it was 
 that of a pint of wine, according to English measure, a 
 fraction a little less than two hundred and sixty-nine. The 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 131 
 
 proof was this, I marked the weight of the water which was 
 in the vessel, under the line aforesaid, and then the weight 
 of water contained in a pint, and collected the ratios of the 
 measures from those of the weights. 
 
 CAUTIONS. 
 
 Observe whether, perchance, a closer contraction of the 
 body from the united force produce a greater ratio of weight 
 than is in proportion to the matter, whether or not this be 
 the case, will appear from the peculiar history of the weight. 
 If it should be so, the calculation is certainly erroneous, 
 and the more bodies are extended so much the more of 
 matter they possess, than is in proportion to the calculation 
 of weight and measure which depends upon it. 
 
 The smallness of the vessel which I made use of, and the 
 form of it, although very convenient for the receiving of the 
 beforementioned cubes, was not equally suitable for the 
 taking of the ratios with the strictest accuracy. For it 
 could not well receive particles beneath a half or a quarter 
 of a grain, and that square surface, in a small and imper¬ 
 ceptible ascent or altitude, was capable of attracting a 
 remarkable difference in the weight contrary to what it is 
 in vessels rising to a point. 
 
 3. There is no doubt, that very many bodies noted in the 
 table receive more or less within their species, according to 
 weight and dimension. For waters, wines, and the like, 
 differ from one another in gravity. Therefore, as it respects 
 the minutest calculation, the thing itself receives some mo¬ 
 dification ; neither can the individuals, upon which our 
 experiment falls, decide with exactness the nature of the 
 species, nor perhaps agree minutely with experiments made 
 on others. 
 
 4. I have set down in the above table those bodies which 
 could conveniently fill the space or measure, each with its 
 body in the lump, and could, as it were, be assimilated, and 
 from the ratios of the weight, of which a judgment might 
 be formed respecting the collection of matter. Three kinds 
 of bodies, therefore, could not be brought into our compu¬ 
 tation ; first, those which would not satisfy cubical dimen¬ 
 sion, such as leaves, flowers, fibres, membranes; 2dly, bo¬ 
 dies with unequal pores and cavities, as sponges, fleeces, 
 and cork; 3dly, pneumatic bodies are without weight. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 The collection of matter in those tangible bodies, which 
 have come under my observation, is within the ratios of 
 
132 PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 twenty-one parts or thereabout. The collection of matter 
 is found most compact in gold, and most expanded in spirits 
 of wine (we speak of bodies which are whole, and not 
 porous). For spirit of wine occupies a space twenty 
 times, and that repeated, of the space which gold does, ac¬ 
 cording to the ratios of one ounce to twenty-two grains. 
 For of those twenty-one parts, of which some are more 
 compact than others ; metals occupy thirteen parts, for tin, 
 the lightest of metals, is almost eight pennyweights, thir¬ 
 teen, that is to say, below that of gold. For all this kind 
 of variety, leaving metals, is confined within those eight 
 remaining parts, and again, that remarkable variety which, 
 by beginning inclusively from stones, is extended to those 
 other subjects, is confined within three parts only, or but 
 little more. For the touchstone, the heaviest of stones 
 (excepting the loadstone), preponderates by little more than 
 three pennyweights. But spirit of wine, the limit of levity 
 in compact bodies, is lighter by little less than one penny¬ 
 weight. A great gap presents itself from gold and quick¬ 
 silver to lead, namely, from twenty pennyweights and a 
 little under, to less than twelve. And although great me¬ 
 tallic bodies abound in variety, I am not inclined to suppose 
 that there are any intermediate bodies, excepting, perhaps, 
 the elements of quicksilver. From lead there is a gradual 
 ascent to iron and tin. Again, there appears a great hiatus 
 between metals and stones, namely, from eight to three 
 pennyweights: for such, or about such, is the distance from 
 tin to the touchstone. Only between these comes the 
 loadstone,and almost on a par, and this is a metallic stone; 
 and probably other fossils may be found of imperfect mix¬ 
 ture, and of a nature compounded between stone and metal. 
 From stones, indeed, to the other bodies there is a gradual 
 variation. 
 
 But we little doubt that, as to vegetables and also in the 
 parts of animals, they show themselves more than other 
 bodies, although of sufficiently equal texture, which surpass 
 spirit of wine in lightness. For even the wood of the oak, 
 which is firm and solid, is lighter than spirit of wine, and 
 the wood of the fir much more. And very many flowers 
 and leaves, and membranes and fibres, as the skins of ser¬ 
 pents, the wings of insects, and the like, would doubtless 
 approach the lesser ratios of weights (if they were capable 
 of cubic dimension), and much more artificial substances, 
 as tinder, the leaves of roses after distillation, and the like. 
 
 We generally find as to the parts of animals some bodies 
 more compact than in plants. For bones and skins are 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 133 
 
 more compact than woods and leaves; for we must correct 
 that proneness which the human mind entertains toward 
 conjecturing that bodies are hard and consistent, in pro¬ 
 portion to their compactness and solidity, but that fluids 
 are naturally less contracted. For a collection of matter 
 is not less in fluids than in solids, but rather more. 
 Gold, by a certain softness which it possesses, verges to a 
 fluid state, and, when liquefied, is not extended, but is con¬ 
 tained within its former place. And quicksilver flows of 
 itself, and lead easily flows, iron with difficulty, of which 
 the one is a very heavy, the other a very light body. But 
 this is especially to be noted, that metals which are frangi¬ 
 ble (fluids to wit), far exceed stones in weight. 
 
 It is very remarkable of gold and quicksilver, which are 
 so much heavier than other metals, that they are found 
 sometimes in grains and small particles, as if perfect by 
 nature and commonly pure, which happens to no other 
 metals, which must unite and be purified by fire, whereas 
 these two, the conjunction of which is by far the greatest 
 and the strictest, is natural and without the aid of fire. 
 
 In the investigation of the nature of metals and stones, 
 some inquiry should be made respecting those metals which 
 are found lower than others and are deeper in the earth, as 
 to whether there is any certain rule and standing experi¬ 
 ment on this head. But here we must take into the con¬ 
 sideration the region in which the mines or quarries are 
 found, whether it be higher ground or whether lower. And 
 in the same manner as to stones and diamonds that are 
 chrystals, whether the stony nature penetrate the earth so 
 deeply as the metallic, or rather attaches only to the sur¬ 
 face, which appears the more probable supposition. 
 
 Sulphur, commonly deemed the father of metals, though 
 generally not so by the learned, or sulphur transferred to a 
 kind of natural and not common sulphur, has a collection 
 of matter inferior to every kind of metal and even to stones 
 and the stronger earths, by two pennyweights and two 
 grains ; and yet (if other circumstances concur) if mixed 
 up with mercury, on account of the admirable gravity of 
 this latter, it could give the weights of all metals according 
 to the ratio of the temperament, except the weight of gold. 
 
 The efficient of conjunction in bodies is not always con¬ 
 sidered in respect to their accumulation. For glass, which 
 joins by means of a fierce and powerful fire, outweighs 
 chrystal, which is its original nature, and is extracted with¬ 
 out fire or apparent heat; for as to ice being a solid, that is 
 a popular error, and chrystal itself is much heavier than 
 
134 
 
 PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 ice, which is plainly kept together by cold, and yet it floats 
 upon the water. 
 
 The mixture of liquors does not depend upon or arise 
 from the ratios of their weights only, since the spirit of 
 wine is not mixed with distilled oil of almonds, but (what 
 would not appear probable) floats upon oil as oil upon 
 water; and yet (as may be seen from the table) is only 
 lighter by a grain and a half. But at the same time spirit 
 of wine is by far more easily mixed with the spirit of water, 
 though heavier; and as water itself is more easily mixed 
 with oil of vitriol than with oil of olives; and yet oil of 
 vitriol is heavier than water by eighteen grains, but oil of 
 olives lighter by four. But this is not to be received with¬ 
 out a particular consideration of the weight in bodies pro¬ 
 portioned according to the mixture. For we see that wine 
 floats upon water, if the agitation is represt or there is a per¬ 
 turbation of the descent or first state ; as when into a vessel 
 in which water is contained you pour wine, but with a piece 
 of bread or cloth intervening, which would break the power 
 itself of the first condition. And the same takes place in 
 water poured upon oil of vitriol with this design. And 
 what is more; although wine be first poured in and after¬ 
 ward water (upon the bread or cloth as aforesaid), it finds 
 its own place, and passes through the wine and settles 
 . itself. 
 
 CONTINUATION OF THE HISTORY OF THE CONJUNCTION 
 
 AND EXPANSION OF MATTER IN THE SAME BODY. 
 
 I deem that our investigation into the ratios of powders 
 will be attended with greater utility if we compare them 
 with the bodies themselves, in their complete state, and do 
 not consider them simply by themselves. For by this 
 means a judgment may be formed respecting the difference 
 of the bodies and concerning those connexions and chains 
 of their perfect nature which are the closest. But in the 
 ratios of powders, we understand powders as comprest as 
 possible. For this conduces to their evenness, and does not 
 suffer accident. Mercury in the lump has in that experi¬ 
 mental measure on which the table proceeds, 19 dwt. and 
 9 gr., but sublimated in powder, 3 dwt. and 22 gr. 
 
 Lead in the lump, 12 dwt. lj gr. but in white lead, in 
 powder, 4 dwt. 8| gr. 
 
 Steel in the lump 8 dwt. 10 gr., but in prepared powder 
 (such as is used in medicines), 2 dwt. 9 gr. 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 135 
 
 Chrystal in the lump, 2 dwt. 18 gr., in powder, 1 dwt. 
 20 gr. 
 
 Red sandal in the lump, 1 dwt. gr., in powder, 
 16§ gr. 
 
 The wood of the oak in the lump, 19 J gr., in ashes, 1 dwt. 
 2 gr. 
 
 But that the ratios of powder prest and not prest may be 
 the better understood, and that according to the difference 
 of the bodies, I have taken the weight of roses in powder, 
 since it could not be taken into the table in the lump: that 
 gave in powder not prest, 7 gr., in powder prest, 22 gr., but 
 at the same time in the wood of the tried red sandal, red 
 sandal in powder not prest, 10 gr., prest, 16 J, so that powder 
 of rose is much lighter than that of sandal if not prest, 
 heavier if prest. I have also taken, as a supplement to the 
 former table, the ratios of powder in some examples from 
 flowers, herbs, and seeds (for the dimension of roots could 
 not be cubic), for an example of the rest in their own 
 species; and I find that the powder of rose-flower, as afore¬ 
 said, gives 22 gr., of sweet marjoram, 23, of sweet fennel, 
 1 dwt. 3J gr. I have taken also in powders the weight of 
 other bodies which could not have been taken into the table, 
 as of white sand. This gave 1 dwt. 20 gr.; of common salt, 
 1 dwt. 10 gr.; of sugar, 1 dwt. 2J gr.; of myrrh, 1 dwt.; 
 of benjamin, 1 dwt. In this same table you may see 
 that sulphur, in the lump, yields 2 dwt. 2 gr., in chymic 
 oil, 1 dwt. 18 gr.; but vitriol in the body, 1 dwt. 22 gr., in 
 oil, 1 dwt. 21 gr.: wine in the body, 1 dwt. 2 gr., and dis¬ 
 tilled 22 gr.: vinegar in the body, 1 dwt. 2 gr., distilled, 
 1 gr. 1 dwt. 
 
 CAUTIONS. 
 
 When we speak of weight in the body, and in the powder, 
 we do not understand it of the same individual, but of the 
 body and powder of the same species contained within the 
 same tabular measure. 
 
 For if the wood of the oak be taken and at the same time 
 the wood in the individual be reduced to ashes; it both 
 loses a great part of its weight, and the ashes do not by a 
 considerable proportion fill the measure of the wood. 
 
 The method of pulverization has considerable influence 
 with respect to the opening or expanding the body. For 
 there is one ratio of powder which is produced by simple 
 bruising or filing, another of that which is produced by 
 distillation as of sublimate; another of that which is pro- 
 
136 
 
 PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 duced by turning it, as it were, into rust by means of aqua? 
 fortes, and consumptions; another of that which is pro¬ 
 duced through fire, as cinders, calx. When these therefore 
 are under consideration, they will not admit in any way of 
 comparison. 
 
 It is not my design to dwell longer on each particular 
 subject than is requisite in order to my present under¬ 
 taking ; I cannot, however, refrain from intimating by the 
 way such others as would facilitate it though not absolutely 
 demanded in this place: especially I would propose that a 
 table should be made of bodies with their pores, with each 
 body with its powders, calcinations, vitrifications, dissolu¬ 
 tions, and distillations. 
 
 We leave to the proper history of weights the history of 
 the variation of weights in individuals, that is, of the same 
 body in the lump and in powders, as of water in snow or 
 ice, and the same dissolved, of an egg raw and prepared 
 for food, of a fowl alive and dead. 
 
 OBSERVATIONS. 
 
 In more compact bodies the compactness of the parts is 
 much closer than to admit of being equalled by any position 
 or pressure of its powders. And in proportion to the gravity 
 and solidity of bodies is the difference between the whole 
 bodies and their pores, as the ratio of quicksilver in a state 
 of nature to quicksilver sublimated in powder is fivefold 
 or more; the ratios of steel and lead do not ascend to four¬ 
 fold ; the ratios of chrystal and sandal do not ascend to 
 twofold. 
 
 In lighter and porous bodies there is perhaps a looser 
 position of the parts in the bodies in their whole state than 
 in their compressed powders, as in dry rose-leaves. And 
 in bodies of this kind there exists a greater difference be¬ 
 tween their powders prest and not prest. 
 
 The parts of powders can so sustain themselves that 
 powder not prest will fill a measure thrice that of powder 
 prest. 
 
 Metallic bodies, as sulphur or vitriol, turned into their 
 oils, retain their weight to a remarkable degree. There is 
 not, indeed, a great difference between the oils and the 
 bodies themselves. Doubtless by distillation they are at¬ 
 tenuated and lose in weight: but this is the case with wine 
 in a double degree to what it is with vinegar. 
 
 The pore in sublimated powder, as compared with that 
 in the body in its natural state, is worthy of notice from 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 137 
 
 this circumstance, that although so great (for it is as I have 
 said fivefold), and that not in a transient, as in the vapours 
 of quicksilver, but in a consistent body, it returns without 
 difficulty to its former orbit. 
 
 CONTINUATION'OF THE HISTORY OF THE CONJUNCTION 
 
 AND EXPANSION OF MATTER THROUGH SPACE IN THE 
 
 SAME BODY. 
 
 Animals in swimming depress the water with their hands 
 or feet; that being depressed, rises above its natural con¬ 
 sistency, and bears up the body rising upon it. But skilful 
 swimmers can so balance themselves upon the water, as to 
 keep themselves up for a time without moving their arms or 
 legs; nay, to walk upright and on the water, and perforin 
 other feats of agility. 
 
 Waterfowls, indeed, are webfooted, and so can conve¬ 
 niently depress the water with the membranes of their feet; 
 but can swim better in deep water. 
 
 Birds in flying beat and condense the air with their 
 wings, but the air, (as was said of water) restoring itself 
 to its own consistency, carries the bird. And birds also 
 sometimes cut their path with expanded wings but retained 
 in one position, or now and then striking their wings a 
 little and then returning to their gliding motion. And 
 there is an analogy between winged animals, whether 
 feathered or not. For flies and all creatures of that kind 
 have their membranes of wings with which they beat the 
 air. But the weakness of their wings is made up by the 
 lightness of their bodies. Winged creatures are more easily 
 borne up aloft, especially those which have broader wings, 
 as the swallow, though their motion is not so swift. And 
 all birds which are of considerable magnitude have more 
 difficulty in the first stage of their flight, in elevating them¬ 
 selves from the earth, since the air is of course not so 
 deep. 
 
 CAUTION. 
 
 The motion of condensation in water, or air, or the like, 
 is manifestly through striking or moving upon it. The 
 parts of air or water, the farther they are from the first 
 stroke or impulse, the weaker they are struck, and the 
 slower they give way; but as they are nearer, so much the 
 more forcibly and quickly; whence it necessarily happens 
 that the anterior air, which flies with more rapidity, comes 
 up to the posterior air, which is slower in its course, and so 
 they come together. But since a greater condensation than 
 
138 
 
 PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 is natural results from their conjunction, the bodies of water 
 or air leap back and return, in order to open and loose 
 themselves. 
 
 HISTORY. 
 
 The face of water and of every fluid is uneven after 
 agitation and perturbation, and that by an inequality move- 
 able and successive, till the water regains its proper con¬ 
 sistency and is freed from the pressure: as in the waves of 
 the sea and of rivers, even after the winds have calmed, 
 and in all disturbed water. 
 
 The same kind of inequality is evidently in the winds 
 also, which roll themselves together in the same manner as 
 the waves: neither do they return to tranquillity imme¬ 
 diately on the cessation of the first impetus, except that in 
 the undulation of the air, the motion of gravity, which in 
 water is joined with the motion of liberation from pressure, 
 does not intervene. 
 
 A stone thrown sidelong on the water (as boys do in 
 play) leaps off and repeatedly falls and is struck again by 
 the water. Swimmers when from an eminence they leap 
 headlong into the water, guard against dividing it through 
 the joining of their thighs. Lastly; water struck by the 
 hand or by the body with power, beats like a ferula or any 
 rather hard body, and causes pain. And in skiffs and keels 
 of vessels which are guided by the force of oars, the water 
 pushed forward and borne down by the oars behind the 
 rowers forces the skiff forward, and makes it move on its 
 way, and bound onward as a boat is moved off from the 
 shore by the waterman’s pole. For the water, gathering itself 
 behind the stern of the vessel and urging it into a contrary 
 direction, is not the principal cause of this, which never¬ 
 theless arises from the pressure relaxing itself. 
 
 Air, in avoiding compression, imitates and puts forth all 
 the actions of a solid body; as we may see in the winds, 
 which direct the courses of ships, overthrow houses and 
 trees, and prostrate them to the ground. 
 
 The stroke that is given from a sling, hollow and long, 
 so as to help the compression of the air, is owing to the 
 same cause. 
 
 Boys in imitation of cannon scoop out the wood of the 
 alder tree and stop up each end of a squirt with bits of the 
 root of the fleur de luce, or of paper rolled up, and then 
 shoot off the little ball by means of a wooden pin, but before 
 that touches it, the further ball is sent off with an audible 
 force by the power of the air shut up in the squirt. 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 139 
 
 Air forcibly condensed becomes colder and seems to ap¬ 
 proach nearer the nature of water, as when we raise the wind 
 with a fan, we perceive the air with a hurried motion by 
 pressing forward, beating back again, or as when by draw¬ 
 ing our lips together, the breath becomes cold, or as may 
 be seen in bellows. 
 
 And when in the open air, you will find that it is much 
 cooler when the wind is blowing than when the air is per¬ 
 fectly calm. 
 
 In the generation of sounds air condensed imitates the 
 nature of a solid body, for as between two solid bodies 
 sound is produced by percussion, so a sound is produced 
 between a solid body and air condensed, and again between 
 two opposite bodies of condensed air. For with respect to 
 the chords in musical instruments it is plain that the sound 
 is not emitted by touch, or by the percussion between the 
 finger or the bow, but between the chord and the air. 
 
 For a chord when it rebounds, and that with celerity 
 from its being stretched, first condenses the air, and then 
 strikes it. Instruments also put into sound by the breath, 
 on account of the very weak motion of the breath compared 
 with that of a stringed instrument, are of necessity made 
 hollow to assist the compression of the air, which is also 
 considered an assistance in stringed instruments. 
 
 Water pent up makes a way for itself with a powerful im¬ 
 petus, and diffuses itself on all sides, in order to obtain its 
 natural latitude, as under the arches of bridges. In the same 
 manner also wind narrowed and condensed bursts forth with 
 violence. Whirlpools produce whirlpools, for since the 
 natural relaxation is impeded, each part sustains an equal 
 pressure. 
 
 Water emitted on a sudden with force from a confined 
 space, reflects the resemblance of a continuous body, as of 
 a thread or rod, or branch of a tree, and becomes straight, 
 afterward bends, then divides itself, and disperses itself 
 into a circle into drops, as in little pipes, or syringes, and 
 gutters. 
 
 There is a kind of pool not uncommon in ponds, espe¬ 
 cially after hay has been mown, or rather seen from that 
 circumstance. The hurricane sometimes raises a quantity 
 of hay in the air, and carries it along for a time together and 
 not scattered, until after it has been borne to a considerable 
 height, the hay disperses itself and forms, as it were, a 
 canopy. 
 
 A wooden platter, empty and turned downwards, and 
 placed evenly on the surface of the water, and afterward 
 
140 
 
 PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 put under the water, bears with it down to the bottom of 
 the vessel the air before contained in the platter; but if, 
 with the like equilibrium, it be again taken out of the 
 water, you will find the air to have conveyed itself into not 
 much less space than it before filled. This will appear 
 from the colouring of the lip of the platter at the place 
 whither the water had ascended, and from which the air 
 received itself within. 
 
 In a bed-room, if a window be left open when the wind 
 blows, if there be no other vent, it is not very much felt 
 (unless it be violent), since it is not received by the body of 
 wind which had filled the room, and was somewhat con¬ 
 densed by the first gentle wind, and afterward does not 
 admit of condensation; but as soon as a vent is given, it is 
 then manifestly perceived. 
 
 For the more comfortable continuance of workmen under 
 water, it has been thought that a large hollow vessel might 
 be constructed of metal, or of some other kind of material, 
 to be let down to the bottom of the water; that it might be 
 sustained by a tripod, with the feet affixed to the brim of 
 the vessel, and the feet to be a little less than the human 
 stature. The vessel was let down into a great depth, with 
 all the air it contained, in the same manner as was described 
 in the case of the platter, and was set upon its feet, and 
 stood just by the spot where the work was to be carried on. 
 But the divers, who were the workmen, when they wanted 
 respiration put their heads into the hollow of the vessel, 
 and having taken a supply of air, returned to their work. 
 And I myself in a bath made my servant put his head into 
 a basin under the water depressed with air, and he so re¬ 
 mained for half the quarter of an hour, until he felt that 
 the air, warmed by his breath, brought on a feeling of suf¬ 
 focation. 
 
 To try by the bladder whether air readily admits of some 
 small contraction would be a fallacious experiment. For 
 when the bladder is filled with wind, the air is condensed 
 by the wind itself, so that the air within the bladder is more 
 dense than common air, and therefore may be expected to 
 be less adapted to a new condensation. But in the usual 
 experiment of the wooden plate forced down beneath the 
 water, you may see that the water, entering from the ex¬ 
 treme part of the vessel, has occupied some space, and that 
 the air has occasioned a defalcation of the same space. 
 
 But in order more clearly to illustrate the proportion, I 
 placed a small globular, or other solid body, and that would 
 sink, at the bottom of the vessel, above which the plate 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 141 
 
 was to be placed; then I placed above that another plate 
 metallic and not wooden, that could stand of itself at the 
 bottom of the vessel. But if that body be small in size, 
 when it is received into the hollow of the plate, it forces the 
 air together, and does not expel it ; but if of greater magni¬ 
 tude than to admit of the easy yielding of the air, the air 
 impatient of this greater pressure, somewhat lifts up the 
 plate, and ascends in bubbles. 
 
 And I had a hollow leaden globe made, the sides of it 
 sufficiently firm to bear the force of a mallet or of a press: 
 and this globe, being struck at either pole with mallets, 
 approached nearer and nearer to a planisphere. And it 
 yielded more readily under the first contusions, afterward 
 less so, according to the measure of the condensation ,* so 
 that at the last the mallets were of but little service, and 
 there was need of pressing, and that with some violence. 
 But I enjoined, that, after the pressing, a few days should 
 be suffered to elapse, but this has no relation to our present 
 design, but looks another way. 
 
 Air, by a powerful exsuction into closed vessels, is ex¬ 
 tended or dilated, so that part of the air being removed, the 
 remainder nevertheless fills the same measure as the whole 
 had filled ; and yet so as to endeavour, as much as possible, 
 to restore itself and to get rid of that extension. You may 
 perceive this in eggs, which contain scented water, and are 
 broken in play, so that they imbue the air with their scent. 
 The way to try it is to let all the food that is in the egg be 
 drained, then let a person confine, by a powerful exsuction, 
 the air itself which has found its way in, and immediately 
 on exsuction bore a hole with the finger, place the egg thus 
 closed under the water, and then take away your finger. 
 But the air turned aside by this tension, and endeavouring 
 to recover its place, draws the water, and enters till that 
 portion of air regains its former consistency. 
 
 I have tried the same experiment with a glass (or philoso¬ 
 pher’s) |egg, and find that the water received is about an 
 eighth part of the capacity; so much was the air extended 
 by exsuction. But this depends upon the greater or less 
 violence of the exsuction. But toward the end of the exsuc¬ 
 tion, it drew with it the brim of the vessel itself. I moreover 
 made use of a new experiment, namely, after exsuction to stop 
 up the hole with wax, and let the egg remain so sealed up for 
 a whole day. I did this to try whether that day would lessen 
 the inclination of the air, as is the case in consistent bodies, 
 in twigs, bars of iron, and the like, the motions of which, 
 to recover themselves from tension, become feebler through 
 
142 
 
 PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 delay; but I find that the effect remains in this instance 
 the same; the egg continues to draw, and with the same 
 force, the same quantity of water as if it had been forth¬ 
 with put in after exsuction: so that when the hole was 
 opened out of the water, it drew in new air with an audible 
 sound, but the effect of further delay I did not try. 
 
 If bellows are suddenly raised and opened, and no breath¬ 
 ing place is given, they break; for since so great a quantity 
 of air, as can fill the inside, rising suddenly from a level to 
 a height cannot be drawn through the narrow strait of the 
 beak of the bellows, and the air which is already within it 
 cannot be extended over such a space, the bellows must 
 break. 
 
 history. 
 
 If w r ater be in a just quantity put into a glass, and the 
 water’s ascent be marked, and a common cinder cleaned 
 through a sieve be put into the water and settle in it, you 
 will see the space occupied by the cinder at the bottom 
 ascend higher by one-fourth than the body of water had 
 ascended on the surface from the place before marked ; and 
 hence it is plain, that the water mixed with the cinder either 
 changes its orbit and contracts itself, or that it receives the 
 cinder within the hollow part of the water, since it by no 
 means expands itself in proportion to the cinder received. 
 But if you try this in the very lightest and thinnest sand 
 (but not calcined or reduced by fire), you will find that the 
 water rises at the surface according as the sand does at the 
 bottom. I think also that many infusions load the water, 
 and that it cannot extend according to the bulk of the 
 body received ; but I pass by the experiment on this subject. 
 
 • CAUTION. 
 
 I do not confound the motion of succession, which is 
 called motion, to avoid the supposition of a vacuum, with 
 the motion of reception from extension. For these two 
 motions are in time and effect conjoined, but differ in their 
 proportion to each other, as will appear in the proper his¬ 
 tory of the motion of.succession. 
 
 Air received through breathing becomes in a little while 
 vapour, so as to cover a lookingglass with a kind of steam, 
 or in winter time so as to be congealed about the beard. 
 But that dew, as it were, upon the bright blade of a sword, 
 or on a diamond, vanishes like a little cloud, so that the 
 polished body seems to purify itself. 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 143 
 
 The mode of the process of water in the expansion and 
 contraction which take place in the body of it through the 
 medium of fire is thus. Water acted upon by. moderate 
 heat emits a little and clear vapour, before any other change 
 is seen within the body of it; the heat then continuing and 
 increasing, the body yet remaining whole, it does not rise 
 nor foam, as it were, in small bubbles, but ascending through 
 greater ones, dissolves itself into copious vapour, but the 
 water soon flies off, and is consumed. And that vapour, if 
 it is not impeded, mingles with the air, being at first visi¬ 
 ble, and even after it has vanished from sight, perceptible, 
 either by sending forth a scent, or by moistening and 
 softening the air at the touch or at breathing. And at 
 length it hides itself, and is lost in that sea of air. But if 
 first a solid body meet it (and so much the more if it be 
 equal to it and polished), the vapour gently enters into it¬ 
 self, and is returned into the water either by the exclusion 
 or ejection of the air, which was before mixed with the va¬ 
 pour. And that whole process is manifest, as well in the 
 decoction of water as in distillation. But we moreover see 
 vapours which are emitted from the earth, if they have not 
 been thoroughly subdued and scattered by the heat of the 
 sun, nor from the coldness of the air equally commingled with 
 that body of air, although they do not meet a solid body, yet 
 returned into water from the very cold and destitution of 
 heat, so that in evening dew it takes place earlier, in showers 
 later. I have, therefore, upon patient and diligent inquiry 
 set down that the expansion of air, if it be compared with 
 water, amounts to a ratio of one hundred and twenty fold 
 or thereabout. 
 
 HISTORY OF THE EXTENSION OF MATTER IN 
 
 PNEUMATICS. 
 
 I have taken a glass phial which could perhaps hold one 
 ounce; I made choice of so small a vessel as for two reasons 
 particularly suited to the experiment, first, that it might 
 sooner bring on the boiling with less heat, lest the bladder, 
 which was to be put above the phial, should be burnt and 
 dried up by an intenser heat: secondly, that it might 
 receive a less portion of air in that part which was not to 
 be filled with water: since I was aware that the air itself 
 received extension through fire. I determined, therefore, 
 of making use of but a little air, that that extension might 
 not disturb the ratios of the water. The phial was not 
 
144 
 
 PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 straight necked without any lip, (for then the vapour of 
 the water would distil more rapidly, and the dew would 
 glide down that part of the bladder which was joined to 
 the neck of the phial) but with the neck at first straightened 
 a little, and then returned as it were with the lip. This 
 vessel I half filled with water, (supposing that this would 
 hasten the boiling) and took the weight of the water with 
 the phial itself by sand put in the scale of a balance. Then 
 I took the bladder which might contain about half a pint, 
 taking care that it should be neither old nor dry and given 
 to resist more from dryness, but new and rather soft. 1 then 
 tried the soundness of the bladder by blowing, to be certain 
 that there were no holes in it, and then emptied all the air 
 out of it as much as possible. I also first of all applied oil 
 to the outside of the bladder, and made it take the oil by 
 rubbing it in. This I did to make the bladder closer and to 
 stop up the pores (if there might chance to be any) with 
 the oil. I fastened the bladder securely about the mouth 
 of the phial, the mouth of the phial being received into the 
 mouth of the bladder; this was done with a string waxed 
 a little that it might adhere better and tie more closely. 
 But this is made better by clay made out of meal and the 
 white of an egg, and bound with black paper and well dried, 
 as I myself have found. At last I placed the phial over 
 burning coals on a little hearth. The water soon after 
 began to boil, and by degress to inflate every part of the 
 bladder, till it seemed as though it would break. I imme¬ 
 diately removed the glass from the fire and placed it upon 
 the carpet, lest the glass should be broken by the cold, and 
 instantly I made a little hole at the top of the bladder with 
 a needle, lest on the vapour being restored to water at the 
 ceasing of the heat, should fall back and confound the 
 ratios. But afterward I took away the bladder itself with the 
 string, and cleared it from the clay, if any had been used, 
 and then weighed the remaining wate* with the phials 
 again. And I found that about the weight of two penny¬ 
 weights had been consumed. And I saw that whatever of 
 the body had filled the bladder when it was full of wind, 
 was made and produced from that which had been lost from 
 the water. The matter, therefore, when it was contracted 
 in the body of the water, filled as much space as two penny¬ 
 weights of the body of water filled: but the same matter 
 expanded in a body of vapour filled half a pint. I there¬ 
 fore set down the ratios according to the dimension ex¬ 
 pressed in the table: a vapour of water can bear a ratio of 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 145 
 
 eighty fold to a body of water. The bladder filled with 
 wind in the manner I have mentioned, if no breathing place 
 be given, but it be removed whole from the fire, imme¬ 
 diately decreases from the inflation and subsides and is 
 contracted. The vapour whilst the bladder swells, being 
 emitted from the hole, had another kind of vapour distinct 
 from the common one of water more thin, clear, and up¬ 
 right, and not so soon mingling itself with the air. 
 
 CAUTIONS. 
 
 We must not suppose that if there were a greater con¬ 
 sumption of water, a greater bladder could be filled in 
 proportion. I tried this and found that it would not 
 answer, but the inflation that follows upon it does not take 
 place gradually but altogether. This I attribute partly to 
 the inflaming of the bladder which was made harder and 
 would not yield so easily, and was perhaps more porous (but 
 this might be corrected by a moist heat as by the balneum 
 Mariae) ; but still more to f this, that the vapour being in¬ 
 creased through the constant succession, inclines to recover 
 itself and condenses itself. The vapour, therefore, which 
 is received into the bladder is not to be compared to those 
 which are received into stoves, because these latter mutually 
 following and urging each other, thicken, but those expand 
 themselves at will from the soft and yielding nature of the 
 bladder, especially at the beginning (as I said), before the 
 copiousness of the vapour brings on its recovery. 
 
 The expansion of the vapour of water is not to be judged 
 entirely from the appearance of the vapour which flies offinto 
 the air; for that vapour being immediately mixed with the air 
 borrows by far the greatest dimension of its mixed body from 
 the air, and does not remain in its own size. And so it is am¬ 
 plified to the bulk of the air into which it is received, as a little 
 red wine or any other coloured fluid which imparts a colour 
 to a great quantity of water. The exact ratios in so minute 
 a case cannot be obtained without laborious and unprofit¬ 
 able research, and are very slightly connected with our 
 present design. It is enough that from this experiment it 
 is plain that the ratio of vapour to water is not twofold, 
 nor tenfold, nor fortyfold, nor again a thousandfold, two 
 hundredfold, &c. For the limits, not degrees of natures, 
 are the subjects of our investigation. If, therefore, any 
 one, by any accident or slight variation in the mode of his 
 experiment, whether from the shape of the glass he makes 
 use of, or the hardness or softness of the bladder, or the 
 
 VOL. XV. L 
 
14G PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 » 
 
 degree of heat does not fall upon the ratio of eighty fold, 
 the consequence is immaterial. For I suppose that there 
 are none so ignorant as to imagine that pneumatic and 
 volatile vapours, which fly off from heavy bodies, lie hid in 
 the pores of the same bodies, and are not of the same matter 
 with the ponderous body, but are separated from the pon¬ 
 derous part when the water is, as it were, entirely consumed, 
 and evaporates into nothing. A live coal, if placed in 
 the scale of a balance and left till it becomes a cinder, will 
 be found to be much lighter. Metals themselves are 
 changed in a wonderful degree in weight by the evolu¬ 
 tions of their smoke. The same matter, therefore, is tan¬ 
 gible and has weight, and is yet pneumatic, and can be 
 divested of weight. 
 
 O 
 
 HISTORY. 
 
 The mode of the process of oil is this. If oil be poured 
 into a common glass phial and placed upon the fire, it will 
 boil much more slowly, and will require a greater heat than 
 water. And at first some drops and small grains appear 
 scattered through the body of the oil, ascending with a 
 creaking sound: the bubbles in the mean time do not play 
 on the surface, as is the case with water, nor does the body 
 rise whole, and in general no steam flies off, but a little 
 afterward the whole body is inflated and dilated in a 
 remarkable proportion, as if rising in a twofold degree. 
 Then, indeed, a very copious and dense steam arises: if a 
 fire be applied to the steam, even a good way above the 
 mouth of the phial, the steam forthwith produces a flame, 
 and descends immediately to the mouth of the phial, and 
 there fixes itself and continues burning. But if the oil is 
 heated to a greater degree, the steam burning to the last, 
 out of the phial, without any flame or ignited body being 
 applied, completely inflames itself, and takes the expansion 
 of the flame. 
 
 CAUTION. 
 
 See that the mouth of the phial is rather narrow, that the 
 phial may confine the fumes, lest by their largely and im¬ 
 mediately mixing with the air, they lose their inflammable 
 nature. 
 
 HISTORY. 
 
 The method of process of spirit of wine is this : it is ex¬ 
 cited by much less heat, and brings itself to expand sooner 
 and more than water. It boils up with great bubbles without 
 froth, and even with the raising of its whole body, but the 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 147 
 
 vapour, whilst it is collected, will on the application of fire 
 produce fire, at a good distance from the mouth of the glass, 
 not so bright (but at least as compact) as oil, but thin and 
 scant of a blue colour and almost transparent. But being 
 inflamed it is borne to the mouth of the glass, where is a 
 supply of more copious fuel, as it is also with oil. But if 
 the vapour is inflamed in the part verging a little obliquely 
 from the mouth of the phial, the inflammation becomes 
 pensile in the air, undulating or winding after the appear¬ 
 ance of vapour, and would doubtless attend it longer if the 
 vapour remained together and did not confound itself with 
 the air. And the body itself of spirit of wine, if no remark¬ 
 able vapour goes before, the fire being applied to it and 
 kept to it a little while is changed into the flame, and it 
 expands with so much the greater ease and swiftness, as 
 the spirit is more widely diffused and occupies a less alti¬ 
 tude. But if the spirit of wine is put in the hollow of the 
 palm of the hand, and a lighted candle between the fingers 
 is placed near the palm of the hand (as boys are wont to 
 play with powder of resin), and the spirit is gently moved 
 forward, and straight forward, not upward ; the body itself 
 burns in the air, and when burning sometimes descends in 
 a right direction, sometimes unfolds a little cloud flying in 
 the air, which nevertheless verges itself to descent; some¬ 
 times when set on fire it cleaves burning, to the roof or 
 sides, or floor of the room, and gradually becomes extinct. 
 
 Vinegar, verjuice, wine, milk, and other simple liquors 
 (I speak of vegetable and animal substances, for of minerals 
 I will treat by themselves), have their modes of expansion, 
 and some remarkable differences attending them, which it 
 would be out of place here to enumerate: but they are in 
 those natures which we have remarked in the processes of 
 water, oil, and spirit of wine; namely, in the degree of heat; 
 and mode of expansion, which is threefold, either in the 
 whole body or in froth, or in rather large bubbles; for fat 
 bodies, of unripe juice, as generally ascend in greater bub¬ 
 bles, of dried sap, as vinegar, in less. A collection of spirit 
 moreover differs in its site. For in the boiling of wine, the 
 bubbles begin to collect themselves about the middle, in 
 vinegar about the sides: and it is the same in ripe and 
 strong wine, and again in vapid or stale, when they are 
 infused. But all liquors, even oil itself, before they begin 
 to boil cast up a few and thin half bubbles about the sides 
 of the vessel. And all liquors boil and are consumed 
 quicker in a small than in a great quantity. 
 
148 
 
 PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 CAUTION. 
 
 I consider that compounded liquors are not proper to 
 the history of the expansion and union of matter through 
 the medium of fire, because they disturb and confuse the 
 ratios of simple expansion and coition by their separations 
 and mixtures. I leave them, therefore, for the proper his¬ 
 tory of the separation and mixture of matter. 
 
 HISTORY. 
 
 Spirit of wine put in an experiment with that elastic 
 cap (which I described when speaking of water) obtains 
 this sort of expansion. I find that a weight of six penny¬ 
 weights consumed and dissolved into vapour filled and 
 fully inflated a great bladder which could contain eight 
 pints; which bladder was greater by sixteen times than 
 that which I used in the case of water, which received 
 only half a pint. But in the experiment of the water, 
 there was a consumption of the weight of only two penny¬ 
 weights, which is only the third part of six pennyweights. 
 The ratios being thus calculated, the expansion of the 
 vapour of spirit of wine bears a fivefold ratio and more to 
 the expansion of the vapour of water. And that very great 
 expansion did not keep the body, on the removal of the 
 vessel from the fire, from hastening to recover itself, the 
 bladder forthwith becoming red and remarkably contracted. 
 And from this experiment I began to estimate the expan¬ 
 sion of the body of flame on probable though not indis¬ 
 putable conjecture. For since the vapour of spirit of wine 
 is so inflammable, and approaches so near the nature of 
 fire, I considered that the ratios of spirit of wine compared 
 with fire agreed with the ratios of the vapour of water 
 compared with air. For we may suppose that the ratios of 
 perfect and fixed bodies (as of air and fire) are in harmony 
 with those of the elements or imperfect and moving bodies 
 (as of vapours). And it will follow from this that fire 
 exceeds air by five degrees in the rarity or expansion of 
 matter. For such is the excess of their respective vapours 
 as was before said. For the fire itself may bear the ratio 
 of one and a half to the proper vapour, not the impure 
 but the highly prepared vapour; as I have laid it down 
 also that air can have the same ratio to the vapour of water 
 highly prepared. And these experiments do not disagree 
 materially with what we may frequently observe. For if 
 you blow out a lighted wax candle, and mark the dimen- 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. ] 49 
 
 sion of the smoky thread which ascends, (in the lowest 
 part before it is dispersed), and place the candle near the 
 fire, and again look at that portion of the fire which first 
 reaches it, you will not imagine that it exceeds more than 
 double the magnitude of the smoke. If you mark with 
 accuracy the dimension of gunpowder, or for greater cer¬ 
 tainty measure it in a little box, and again take the dimen¬ 
 sion of its flame after it has been lit, you will readily grant 
 that the flame exceeds the body (as far as it can be told at 
 first sight) a thousand degrees. And from what has been 
 before laid down, there should be a considerable proportion 
 of fire according to the nitre. But this I will explain more 
 perfectly in my observations upon this history. We very 
 clearly see that air itself is expanded and contracted from 
 heat and cold in those bodies of wind which physicians 
 use for attraction. For these warmed over the fire, and 
 then applied immediately to the body, draw the skin, the 
 air contracting itself and gradually recovering itself. And 
 this it does of itself, although the hemp may not have been 
 put on and heated, which is used to produce a more power¬ 
 ful attraction. Moreover, if a cold sponge be applied out¬ 
 side over the blister the air contracts itself so much the 
 more by virtue of the cold, and the attraction becomes 
 more determined. 
 
 1 have put a silver saltcellar of the usual bell-tower 
 form, in a bath or goblet filled with water, bearing the air 
 deprest with itself to the bottom of the vessel. I then put 
 two or three live coals in the little hollow space in which 
 the salt is placed when applied to its ordinary use, and 
 raised a flame by blowing. Very soon after, the air, rari- 
 fied by the heat, and impatient of its former orbit, lifted up 
 the bottom of the saltcellar on one side, and ascended in 
 bubbles. Hero describes an altar so constructed as that if 
 you laid a holocaust upon it and set it on fire, suddenly 
 water would fall to extinguish the fire. This might be 
 accomplished by air being received under the altar in a 
 hollow space closed up, and with no other way of exit 
 (when the air was extended by the fire) but where it might 
 force out the water prepared for this purpose, in the chan¬ 
 nel. There were lately in this country some Hollanders 
 who had invented a musical instrument, which on being- 
 struck by the rays of the sun gave out a certain harmony. 
 This was very probably owing to the extension of the 
 heated air which could produce the motion of the in¬ 
 strument, since it is certain that air acted upon by the 
 
PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 150 
 
 contact of the very slightest heat, immediately begets ex¬ 
 pansion. 
 
 But in order to come at a more accurate knowledge of 
 the expansion of the air let into that elastic bladder, I took 
 an empty glass (I mean, filled only with air) and placed 
 upon the bladder the cap of which I before treated. 
 But when the phial was placed over the fire, the air ex¬ 
 tended itself more quickly and with less heat than water 
 or spirit of wine, but with not a very ample expansion. 
 For it bore this proportion. If the bladder held less by 
 six ounces than the phial itself, the air completely filled 
 and inflated it; it did not ascend easily on greater expan¬ 
 sion ; and no visible body proceeded out of it, after making 
 a little hole in the top of the bladder, until it was inflated. 
 
 A. T. R. 
 
 DESCRIPTION OF THE INTELLECTUAL GLOBE. 
 
 CHAPTER I. 
 
 Division general of Human Learning into History, Poesy, 
 Philosophy, according to the three Faculties of the Mind, 
 Memory, Imagination, Reason; showing that the same 
 Division holds also in matters Theological; since the Ves¬ 
 sel, namely Human Intellect, is the same, though the 
 matter contained, and the mode of its entrance, be dif¬ 
 ferent. 
 
 We adopt that division of human learning which is cor¬ 
 relative to the three faculties of the intellect. We there¬ 
 fore set down its parts as three, History, Poesy, Philo¬ 
 sophy :—history has reference to memory, poesy to imagi¬ 
 nation, philosophy to reason. By poesy in this place we 
 mean nothing else but feigned history. History is, properly, 
 the history of individual facts, the impressions of which 
 are the earliest and most ancient guests of the human 
 mind, and as it were the primitive matter of the sciences. 
 To deal with these individuals and that matter forms the 
 mind’s habitual employment, and occasionally, its amuse¬ 
 ment. For all science is the labour and handicraft of the 
 mind; poetry can only be considered its recreation. In 
 philosophy the mind is enslaved to things, in poesy it is let 
 
INTELLECTUAL GLOBE. 
 
 151 
 
 loose from the bondage of things, and breaks forth inimita¬ 
 bly, and creates at will. And any one may easily compre¬ 
 hend that this is so, who shall seek the source of things 
 intellectual even on the simplest principles, and with the 
 most crass apprehension. For the images of things indi¬ 
 vidual are admitted into the sense and fixed in the memory. 
 They pass into the memory as it were whole, in the same 
 manner as they present themselves. These the mind recals 
 and retraces; and, which is its proper business, puts toge¬ 
 ther and decomposes their parts. Now individuals seve¬ 
 rally have something in common one with another, and 
 again something diverse and complex. Composition and 
 division takes place either at the will of the mind itself, or 
 agreeably to what is found in nature. If it is done at the 
 mere volition of the mind, and such parts of things are 
 arbitrarily applied, so as to form a certain likeness of some 
 individual, it is the work of imagination; which, restrained 
 by no law or necessity of nature or of matter, can unite 
 things which in nature are most discordant, and divide 
 those which never exist in separation, so as however this 
 is still confined to such original parts of the individuals. 
 For there is no imagination, not even a dream, of objects 
 which have not in some shape presented themselves to the 
 senses. Again, if the same sections of objects be joined or 
 divided according to the real evidence of things, and as 
 they actually present themselves in nature, or at least as 
 they are observed to present themselves according to the 
 general apprehension of mankind, this is the office of 
 reason; and all such adjustment is ascribed to reason. 
 
 Whence it clearly appears that from these three sources 
 there arise the three several streams of history, poesy, 
 and philosophy, and that there cannot be other or more 
 branches than these. For under the name of philosophy 
 we comprehend all the arts and sciences, and whatever in 
 short can, from the presentment of the several objects of 
 nature, be by the mind collected and arranged into general 
 notions. Nor do we think that there is occasion, in consi¬ 
 deration of the extent of the subject, for any other division 
 of learning than that which we have stated above. For 
 though the responses of a divine oracle and of the senses 
 are different, no doubt, both in the matter and the mode by 
 which it finds access to the mind; yet the spirit of man 
 which receives both is one and the same, just as different 
 liquors passing through different apertures are received 
 into one and the same vessel. Wherefore we assert that 
 
INTELLECTUAL GLOBE. 
 
 i 52 
 
 history itself either consists of sacred history, or of divine 
 precepts and doctrines, which are, so to speak, an every¬ 
 day philosophy. And that part which seems to fall with¬ 
 out this division, prophecy, is itself a species of history, 
 with the prerogative of deity stamped upon it of making 
 all times one duration, so that the narrative may anticipate 
 the fact; thus also the mode of promulgating vaticination 
 by vision, or the heavenly doctrines by parables, partakes 
 of the nature of poetry. 
 
 CHAP. II. 
 
 A partition of History into Natural and Civil, Ecclesiasti¬ 
 cal f , Literary, arid Particular, included in Civil History. 
 A division of Natural History into the History of Gene¬ 
 rations, Prater- gener at ions, and Arts; according to the 
 three states of Nature, 
 ing, and constrained. 
 
 History is either natural or civil. In natural history we 
 recount the events and doings of nature; in civil, of men. 
 Things divine no doubt have a conspicuous share in both, 
 but chiefly in human, so as to constitute a branch of their 
 own in history, which we are accustomed to call sacred or 
 ecclesiastical. We shall therefore assign that branch to 
 the province of civil history: and we shall first speak of 
 natural history. There is extant no natural history of 
 things individual. Not that we would lay down the false 
 position that history ought to be engrossed with describing 
 individuals, which are limited in time and place. For in 
 that view it is proper there should be none; since, however, 
 there is a general resemblance of natural objects, so that if 
 you know one you know all, it were superfluous and inter¬ 
 minable to speak of individuals. Thus if in any case that 
 indistinguishable general resemblance be wanting, natural 
 history admits individuals those, that is, of which there is 
 not a number or family. For a history of the sun, the 
 moon, the earth, and the like, which are unique in their 
 species, is most properly written, and no less of those 
 which conspicuously vary from their species and are mon¬ 
 strous; since the description and the knowledge of the 
 species neither sufficiently nor competently supplies the 
 want of it. Wherefore natural history does not exclude 
 these two classes of individuals, but is in by far the largest 
 
 arnely, Nature m course, vary- 
 
INTELLECTUAL GLOBE. 
 
 153 
 
 part of it, as we have already stated, employed about spe¬ 
 cies. But we attempt a partition of natural history, de¬ 
 rived from the tendency and condition of nature herself, 
 which is found placed in three several states, and subject 
 as it were to three modes of government. For nature is 
 either free, spontaneously diffusing and developing itself in 
 its wonted course, that is, when nature depends upon itself, 
 in no way obstructed and subdued, as in the heavens, ani¬ 
 mals, plants, and all the natural productions; or again, it 
 is evidently torn down and precipitated from its proper 
 state by the pravity and erratic tendency of obdurate and 
 resisting matter, or by violence of obstacles, as is the case 
 in the care of monsters and unnatural productions; or, 
 finally, it is coerced by the art and industry of man, 
 fashioned, altered, and as it were made anew, as in things 
 artificial. For in things artificial nature seems as it were 
 new made, and there is seen a new face of things, or second 
 universe. Wherefore natural history of either the liberty 
 of nature or its errors into bonds. Now if it be unpleasing 
 to any one that the arts should be called the bonds of 
 nature, since they are rather to be considered its deliverers 
 and champions, since they make nature in some instances 
 mistress of her object, by reducing obstacles into her order. 
 We regard little such delicacies and elegancies of lan¬ 
 guage. We only mean to signify this, that nature, by 
 means of arts, is placed by compulsion under a necessity of 
 doing that which without arts would not have been done, 
 whether that be denominated force and bonds, or assistance, 
 and consummating skill. We shall therefore divide natu¬ 
 ral history into the history of generations, the history of 
 preter-generations, and the history of arts, which we are 
 accustomed to call mechanical and experimental history. 
 And we willingly place the history of arts among the spe¬ 
 cies of natural history, because these has obtained a now 
 inveterate mode of speaking and notion, as if art were 
 something different from nature, so that things artificial 
 ought to be discriminated from things natural, as if wholly 
 and generically different; whence arises this evil, that most 
 writers of natural history think they have accomplished 
 their task if they have achieved a history of animals, 
 plants, or minerals, omitting the experiments of mechanics, 
 which are of by far the greatest consequence to philosophy; 
 and there has insinuated itself into mens’ minds a still 
 subtler error, namely this, that art is conceived to be a 
 sort of addition to nature, the proper effect of which is 
 
] 54 
 
 INTELLECTU A L GLOBE. 
 
 to perfect what nature has begun, or to correct her where 
 she has deviated ; but by no means to work radical changes 
 in her, and shake her at the roots, which has been a source 
 of great despondency in the attempts of men. Whereas, 
 on the contrary, that ought to be sunk deep that things 
 artificial do not differ from natural in form or essence but 
 in efficients only; that in reality man has no power over 
 nature, except that of motion, namely, to apply or to remove 
 natural bodies; but nature performs all the rest within 
 herself. Wherefore when there is granted a proper appli¬ 
 cation or removal of natural bodies, men and art can do 
 all; when not granted, nothing. Again, provided that 
 due admission and removal takes place in order to some 
 effect, it matters not whether it be done by man or by art, 
 or by nature without man. Nor is the one more potent 
 than the other; so if any one by sprinkling water create 
 the apparition of a rainbow upon a wall, he does not find 
 nature less obedient than when the same takes place in the 
 air on humid clouds. Again, when gold is found pure in 
 veins, where nature has performed exactly the same office 
 to herself, as if pure gold were extracted by means of the 
 smelting pot and ministry of man. Sometimes, too, a 
 ministry of this kind is, by the laws of the universe, com¬ 
 mitted to other animals. For honey is not the less an 
 artificial production, which is produced through the medium 
 of the industry of the bee, than sugar which is produced 
 by that of man; and in manna, which is a similar compo¬ 
 sition, nature is content with her own chymistry. Since 
 then nature is one and the same thing, and its power all 
 pervading and never at war with itself, these three things 
 ought to be understood as equally subordinate only to 
 nature; the course of nature, the eccentricity of nature, 
 and art or man added to the universe, and therefore it is 
 fitting that all these things should be interwoven in one 
 continuous series of narrations, which Caius Pliny in a 
 great manner attempted, who embraced natural history 
 with a comprehensiveness of plan suitable to its dignity, 
 but having embraced it, treated it most meagerly. Let this 
 then be the first division of natural history. 
 
 
INTELLECTUAL GLOBE. 
 
 155 
 
 CHAP. III. 
 
 A Partition of Natural History according to its use and end, 
 showing that by far the noblest end of Natural History 
 is its Ministration in the first instance to found Philoso¬ 
 phy ; and that such a History—a History modelled in 
 order to such end , is wanted. 
 
 But Natural History, threefold in its subject (as we have 
 stated), is twofold in its use. For it is employed either for 
 the purpose of furnishing knowledge of those facts which 
 are recorded by the history, or as the primitive matter of 
 philosophy. But if the noblest end of natural history is 
 this, that it is so to speak the stuff and Hyle of a just and 
 legitimate induction, and draws enough from the sense to 
 instruct the intellect. For that other sort of history, which 
 either delights by the charm of the narration, or pleases by 
 its subserviency to immediate experiments, and which is in 
 request either in respect of such pleasure or such profit, is 
 of a cast inferior, and in its nature meaner, in comparison 
 with that of which it is the nature and the quality to serve 
 as an appropriate preparation to found philosophy. For 
 that is the true natural history which is established as an 
 immoveable and eternal foundation for true and practical 
 philosophy; which affords the first genial kindling to the 
 pure light of nature, wherein all phantasms vanish; and of 
 which the genius, neglected and unappeased by fit offer¬ 
 ings, has, in an evil hour, sent among us those legions of 
 spectres and worlds of shadows, which we see hovering over 
 all the expanse of the philosophies,—along with great and 
 lamentable dearth of useful works. Now we assert and 
 explicitly testify, that a natural history, such as it ought to 
 be in order to this end, is not possessed, but ought to be 
 placed among histories wanting. And let not either the 
 great names of the ancients, or the great tomes of the mo¬ 
 derns, startle the mental vision of any one; and let him not 
 think that our complaint is the less just. We are well 
 aware, that there is extant a natural history, voluminous in 
 its bulk, entertaining from its variety, often interesting, 
 elaborate even to scrupulosity. But if one shall extract 
 from it accounts derived from fable and antiquity, the quo¬ 
 tations and testimonies of authors, the empty questions 
 and * controversies, and, finally, that part of it which is 
 
156 
 
 INTELLECTUAL GLOBE. 
 
 mere words and rhetorical ornament (which is better adapted 
 to disquisition and the talk of literary nights than to estab¬ 
 lish philosophy), this great appearance of substance sub¬ 
 sides to nothing. Thus there seems to have been desiderated 
 and collected by some men, in this instance, rather a The¬ 
 saurus for the allusions of eloquence, than a solid and 
 authentic narrative of facts. Besides it seems to no great 
 purpose to recount or know the wonderful varieties of 
 flowers of the iris or the tulip, of shells, or dogs, or hawks. 
 For these are nothing but the sport or wantonness of na¬ 
 ture, and approach nearly the nature of individuals. By 
 which means men acquire exquisite minuteness of know¬ 
 ledge in the objects, but meager and even useless informa¬ 
 tion as respects the purposes, of science. Yet these are the 
 things of which the common natural history makes such 
 an ostentatious display. Now though natural history has, 
 on the one hand, degenerated into foreign, and, on the 
 other, indulged in superfluous inquiries, yet assuredly great 
 and valuable parts of it have either been entirely passed 
 over, or carelessly and lightly handled. And in the whole 
 scope of its investigations and its accumulations, it is not 
 by any means found adapted and qualified to attain the 
 end of which we speak, namely, to found philosophy. This 
 will appear best in its particular branches, and by a com¬ 
 parison of that history, whose descriptions we shall pre¬ 
 sently submit to the eyes of man, with that which now ob¬ 
 tains. 
 
 CHAP. IV. 
 
 The Treatise begins by stating what the History wanted 
 ought to be; namely, a Natural History, as a foundation 
 for Philosophy. To unfold this more clearly, there is first 
 exhibited a Scheme of the History of Generations. Of this 
 the Parts are set down as five : The first, the History of the 
 Heavenly Bodies ; the second, of Meteors; the third, of Barth 
 and Sea; the fourth, of the greater Colleges of things, 
 that is of Elements or Masses; the fifth of the smaller 
 Colleges or Species. The History of primitive Virtues is 
 reserved, till the Exposition of the first Division, namely, 
 of Generations, P reter- generations, and Arts, is completed. 
 
 As w 7 e think it concerns our honour not to leave to others 
 the execution of the history which we desire, but to impose 
 it as a task upon ourselves, since in proportion as the sub- 
 
INTELLECTUAL GLOBE. 
 
 157 
 
 ject may seem open to the labour of all, in the same pro¬ 
 portion, there is greater risk of their deviating from the 
 design, and we have therefore distinguished it as forming 
 the third part of our history; yet faithfully observe our 
 purpose of explaining and exhibiting what hath been neg¬ 
 lected, and place some part of science in security, should 
 we be cut off by any of the accidents, of humanity; we have 
 thought it good to add now and in this place, our senti-' 
 ments and counsels respecting this subject. We set down 
 of the history of generations, or nature at large, five divi¬ 
 sions. These are the history of the ether, the history of 
 meteors and of the regions of the air as they are called; for 
 the lower track circumambient to the earth’s surface, and to 
 the bodies which are placed in it, we refer to the history of 
 meteors. Thirdly, there follows the history of the earth and 
 sea, which conjointly compose one globe. And so far 
 nature is divided according to place, and the things occu¬ 
 pying those places. The other two parts discriminate sub¬ 
 stances, or rather masses of substances. For homogeneous 
 substances are usually collected in larger or smaller masses, 
 which we have been wont to name larger and smaller col¬ 
 leges of things, and they have the same relation as in 
 human polity a tribe and family. Therefore we place the 
 fourth in order, the history of the elements or larger col¬ 
 leges ; fifthly and lastly, the history of species or smaller 
 colleges. We mean elements to be taken in this sense, not 
 that they should be understood as the principles of things, 
 but as larger masses of connatural substances. That larger 
 size happens by reason of the manageable, simple, obvious, 
 and perfected texture of the matter; whereas species are 
 furnished by nature sparingly, because of the dissimilarity, 
 and in most instances, the organic structure of the texture. 
 Now 7 of the history of those properties which may be re¬ 
 garded as the cardinal and catholic virtues of nature, den¬ 
 sity, rarity, levity, gravity, heat, cold, consistency, fluidity, 
 similarity, dissimilarity, specific, organic, and the like, 
 along with the motions contributing to them, as of antitype, 
 connexion, coition, expansion, and the rest of such proper¬ 
 ties and motions (the history of which we would have col¬ 
 lected and complete before we come to the point, where the 
 intellect is to work upon them), and of the mode of pre¬ 
 paring that history; we shall discourse after finishing the 
 explanation of the three divisions, generation, prseter-gene- 
 ration, and arts. For we have not comprehended that 
 among the three divisions, since it is not properly a history, 
 
158 
 
 INTELLECTUAL GLOBE. 
 
 but something between history and philosophy, a sort of 
 middle term. At present we shall speak and give our coun¬ 
 sels respecting the history of the heavenly bodies, and then 
 of the others. 
 
 CHAP. V 
 
 Resumes the consideration of the History of the Heavenly 
 Bodies , showing what it ought to he in kind , and that the 
 legitimate ordering of the History ought to turn upon 
 three kinds of Precepts , namely , concerning the End of 
 such History , the Matter, and Mode of conducting it. 
 
 We would have the history of the celestial bodies simple, 
 not vitiated by arbitrary dogmas, but, as it were, suspended 
 out of the reach of the forcible grappling and presumption 
 of theories, only embracing phenomena raw and detached, 
 which had grown up so to speak blended with such dogmas; 
 finally, such a history as may set forth narratives of facts 
 exactly in the same manner as if nothing had been fixed 
 by the arts of astronomy and astrology, but only as if expe¬ 
 riments and observations had been diligently collected and 
 perspicuously described. In which kind of history we find 
 nothing; hitherto done to accord with our wish. Caius 
 Pliny attempted only something of the kind in a cursory 
 and inexact style; but a valuable history might be ex¬ 
 tracted and dug from the mine of Ptolemy and Copernicus, 
 and the more informed teachers of astronomy, by exhaust¬ 
 ing all the experiments, and adding the observations of the 
 moderns. And if it should appear to any one surprising, 
 that we should throw back again what had been secured, 
 enlarged, and rectified, to its primitive barbarism, and the 
 simplicity of its crude observations, we answer thus; with 
 none of the ostentation of the earlier inventors, we attempt 
 a far nobler work, for we think not of calculations and pre¬ 
 dictions, but of philosophy—such, we mean, as shall in¬ 
 struct the human mind, not only with respect to the motion 
 of the higher bodies and its periods, but concerning their sub¬ 
 stance, their various qualities, their power and influence, ac¬ 
 cording to methods natural and admitting of no uncertainty, 
 free from the superstition and childishness of tradition; and 
 again, as respects their motion itself, to discover and unfold 
 not what is reconcileable to known phenomena, but what 
 is found on penetrating deep into nature, and is true in act 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HIS TORY. 
 
 159 
 
 and in reality. And any one may easily observe both that 
 those who have supposed that the earth revolves on its axis, 
 and those, on the other hand, who have held it to be the 
 centre of motion, the ancient formation, depend on a nearly 
 balanced and doubtful advocacy of phenomena. Moreover, 
 the advocate in our day of the new formation, who makes 
 the sun the centre of the second motion, as the earth of the 
 first, while the planets, in their respective orbits, seem to 
 join in a dance round the sun, which some of the ancients 
 suspected in the case of Mercury and Venus,—had he pur¬ 
 sued his thoughts to their result, seems to have had it in 
 his power certainly to bring the question to a fair settle¬ 
 ment. Nor, indeed, have we any doubt that other hypo¬ 
 theses of such formations, may be invented by ingenious 
 and acute thinkers. Nor are those who promulgate such 
 theories much delighted, because what they propose is true, 
 but only because it is a convenient hypothesis for form¬ 
 ing calculations and astronomical tables. But our method 
 has a widely different object. For we seek not accom¬ 
 modations which may be various, but truth, which is one. 
 To attain this, a genuine history of phenomena would 
 open a way; one tainted with theory would obstruct it. 
 Nor shall we here omit, that we, as the result of such 
 a history of the heavenly bodies, made and accumulated 
 according to our rules, indulge not only the hope of a dis¬ 
 covery of the truth with reference to the heavenly bodies, 
 but still more of such discovery in the observation of 
 the affections and appetencies of matter in either world. 
 For that supposed discrepancy between the celestial and 
 sublunary bodies appears to us a figment at once drivelling 
 and presumptuous, since it is most indubitable that a variety 
 of effects, such as expansion, contraction, impression, retro¬ 
 cession, assimilation, union, and the like, have their seat 
 not merely among us, but in the highest part of heaven, 
 and in the entrails of the earth. Other and more faithful 
 interpreters than these there are none whom we can call in 
 and consult, to assist human intellect in penetrating the 
 depths of the earth, which are invisible, and the height of 
 heaven, which is generally seen under optical illusion. 
 Wherefore the ancients excellently devised of Proteus that 
 he was of many shapes, and also noted as the prince of all 
 diviners, knowing the past, the future, and the mysteries of 
 the present. For he who knows the catholic appetencies 
 of matter, and knows by them what is possible, cannot be 
 ignorant what is, and what will be, found true of things taken 
 
 i 
 
160 
 
 INTELLECTUAL GLOBE. 
 
 within them. Wherefore we repose great hope and confi¬ 
 dence in the methods of physics for advancing the science 
 of astronomy, meaning by physical inquiries, not those 
 which are commonly thought so, but only the doctrine 
 regarding those tendencies of matter which no diversity of 
 regions or position can detach or dissever from it. Nor 
 would we, therefore, (to return to our theme), wish any labour 
 to be spared, which could be employed in statements and 
 observations of the heavenly bodies. For in proportion as 
 there is a richer fund of appearances of this sort, in the same 
 proportion will the whole subject be more easily mastered, 
 and have more solidity. Of which, before we say any thing 
 further, we have reason assuredly to congratulate the world, 
 both on the labour of mechanicians, and the diligence and 
 accuracy of certain learned men, that they have of late at¬ 
 tempted so to speak, to establish by means of optical instru¬ 
 ments, as by means of trading vessels and passage-boats, to 
 open up an intercourse with the heavenly bodies. And 
 this undertaking we regard as both in its end and endeavour 
 something noble and worthy of mankind. And such men 
 are so much the more deserving of praise, both in their 
 attempt and their basis of belief, because they have ho¬ 
 nestly and distinctly planted before them the facts for exa¬ 
 mination as they severally present themselves. It remains 
 only that they have perseverance united with great severity 
 of judgment, that they change their instruments, that they 
 increase the amount of evidence, that they subject to ex¬ 
 periments each phenomenon, and frequently, and in a 
 variety of ways; finally, that they both place before them¬ 
 selves and lay open to others, whatever may be objected in 
 favour of the contrary conclusion, and that they do not 
 disdain to notice even the most minute incongruity, lest 
 that should happen to them which happened to Democritus 
 and his old woman about the figs of exquisite flavour, 
 namely, to find the old wife wiser than the philosopher; 
 and lest some silly and ridiculous mistake should lie at 
 the bottom of a high and soaring theory. Having pre¬ 
 mised these remarks on the general subject, let us proceed 
 to a more detailed statement of our astronomical history, 
 in order that we may show both what, and what kind of 
 facts, ought to be inquired into in regard to the heavenly 
 bodies. First then we shall propose the questions of natu¬ 
 ral philosophy, or at least some of them, and those of 
 greatest moment to the use of man. Next after these we 
 shall mention those uses to mankind which may probably 
 
ASTRONOM1C AL IIISTORY . 
 
 1G1 
 
 be derived from the contemplation of the heavenly bodies : 
 both of these as showing the design of the history: that 
 those whose task it shall be to compile a history of the 
 heavenly bodies may know what they do, and may have 
 these questions, along with the works and practical effects 
 to arise from them, in their minds’ eye and contemplation. 
 Whence they may build up and prepare a history such 
 as shall be adapted for the decision of questions of this 
 sort, and for furnishing such fruits and advantages to man¬ 
 kind. We mean questions of that kind which are appli¬ 
 cable to the doings of nature, not their causes. For that 
 is the proper province of history. We shall then perspi¬ 
 cuously state in what the history of the heavenly bodies 
 consists ; what are its parts ; what things are to be learned 
 or examined; what experiments are to be set on foot and 
 performed ; what observations are to be used and weighed ; 
 thus proposing, so to speak, certain inductive topics or 
 articles of examination respecting the heavenly bodies. 
 Lastly, we shall state something not only concerning what 
 ought properly to be inquired into, but concerning this,— 
 how, when the inquiries are completed, they ought to be 
 meditated, and exhibited, and reduced to writing; lest the 
 diligence employed in the first part of the inquiry should 
 be lost in what succeeds; or, which is worse, lest the ad¬ 
 vances subsequently made should proceed upon feeble and 
 fallacious foundations. Finally, we shall state both with 
 what object, and what, and how, inquiry ought to be made 
 respecting the heavenly bodies. 
 
 CHAP. VI. 
 
 That Philosophical Questions about the Heavenly Bodies, 
 even though they go beyond the commori ideas, and be 
 somewhat difficult, ought to be canvassed. A nd there are 
 proposed Jive questions about the System itself: whether it 
 be a System ? and, supposing it to be so, what is its Centre, 
 what is its Depth, what is its Connection, and what its 
 Distribution of Parts ? 
 
 And now, doubtless, we shall be considered by some as 
 disinterring the ashes of old questions, long, as it were, 
 consigned to the dust of the grave; nay, as evoking their 
 very ghosts, and urging them with fresh interrogatories of 
 our own. But since the philosophy, hitherto in vogue, 
 
 VOL. XV. M 
 
162 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 respecting the heavenly bodies, has no solidity; and since 
 this has been always laid down by us as a sacred and in¬ 
 variable rule, that all must abide the new award of a legiti¬ 
 mate induction; and since, if perchance some questions are 
 left behind us untouched, so much the less industry and 
 pains will be exerted in collecting the facts upon them, in 
 consequence of its appearing superfluous to inquire into 
 points on which no question has ever been moved : we hold 
 it necessary to take in hand all questions which the uni¬ 
 verse may any where offer to our consideration. Besides, 
 in proportion as we are less assured of our ability to deter¬ 
 mine questions by the method we pursue, so much the 
 more confidently do we entertain them. For we see how 
 all must end. 
 
 The first question, then, is, whether there be a system, 
 that is, whether the world, or universal frame of things, be 
 a spherical' whole, possessing a centre ? or rather, whether 
 the single globes of the earth and stars are placed in dis- 
 . persion, and each attached, as it were, by its own root, 
 without a common middle point or centre ? The school of 
 Democritus and Epicurus, it is true, made a boast that their 
 authors had u broken down the walls of the world.” Yet 
 that, certainly, is not a consequence of the tenets maintained 
 by them. For Democritus having laid down his notion of 
 matter, or seminal atoms, infinite in number, limited in 
 their properties and powers,—atoms in agitation, and from 
 eternity unfixed in any possible structure or position, was 
 not led, in virtue of that opinion, to maintain the exist¬ 
 ence of a number of worlds, distinguished by variety of 
 form, subject to birth and dissolution, some better con¬ 
 structed, some more loosely coherent, also of embryo worlds, 
 and agglomerations formed between world and world. 
 But, were all this assumed, it hinders not that the por¬ 
 tion of matter which has been assigned to the structure of 
 this our world, lying, as it does, under our own observa¬ 
 tion, should possess a spherical figure. For, necessarily, 
 each of those worlds must have taken some configuration. 
 For allowing that in infinity there can be no central point, 
 yet in the parts of that infinity there may exist a spherical 
 figure, no less in a world, than in a mortar. Democritus, how¬ 
 ever, excelled only as an analyser of the world: in dealing 
 with its aggregates and totality, he was inferior even to or¬ 
 dinary philosophers. The opinion of which we are now to 
 speak, which really destroyed and exploded the notion of a 
 system, was that of Heraclides of Pontus, Ecphantus and 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 103 
 
 Nicetas of Syracuse, and particularly of Philolaus, also in 
 our age of Gilbertus, and all, (except Galileo), who have held 
 that the earth is a planet, moves, and is, as it were, one of the 
 stars. And this idea has solidity thus far, that the planets 
 and single stars, and the countless number which from their 
 distance baffle our vision, and others also unseen by us, from 
 their being not of a luminous but opaque nature, each in its 
 respective orbit and primary tour through that illimitable 
 expanse which we behold, whether of vacant space or of 
 some subtler and almost indiscernible substance, are dis¬ 
 persed and lie about like islands in a vast ocean, and 
 revolve not upon a common centre, but each upon that of 
 its respective orbit, some absolutely, others with some 
 progressive motion of their own centre. There is one 
 very great difficulty in their opinion, namely, that they 
 altogether banish rest , or an immoveable point from na¬ 
 ture. Now it seems that, as there are in nature re¬ 
 volving bodies which are borne along in interminable and 
 ceaseless motion, so, on the contrary, there ought to be 
 some body which is quiescent; between which we place 
 the intermediate nature of those which are carried in a 
 straight-lined path, since motion in a straight line is suit¬ 
 able to fragments of spheres, and things exiled, so to speak, 
 from their natural seats, which move towards orbs homo¬ 
 geneous with themselves, in order that, united with these, 
 they may either be rotatory or quiescent. But of this ques¬ 
 tion, whether there be a system, a conclusion will be obtained 
 by means of those which relate to and determine the motion 
 of the earth, whether the earth revolve or be at rest, and 
 to the matter of the stars, whether it be solid or igneous ? 
 For if the earth stands still, and the heavens perform a 
 diurnal revolution, undoubtedly it is a system; but if the 
 earth be rotatory, it is nevertheless not absolutely proved 
 that it is not a system, because we may still fix another 
 centre of the system, such as the sun, or something else. 
 Again, if the orb of the earth alone is crass and solid, it 
 seems as if the matter of the universe was agglomerated and 
 condensed into that centre: but if the moon and other planets 
 are found to be also composed of crass and solid matter, 
 it seems that dense bodies do not unite in any centre, but 
 lie dispersedly, and so to speak, at random. Finally, if in 
 the interstellar spaces we place a vacuum coacervatum, then 
 the several orbs should seem to have round them, first, 
 the envelope of certain subtle effluvia, and then the va¬ 
 cuum. But if these spaces are a 'plenum, there should 
 
164 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 seem to be a union of the denser in the centre, and an ex¬ 
 pulsion of the rarer substances, to the circumference. Now 
 it contributes materially to science to know the connexions 
 of questions with one another, because under some of them 
 there is found history or inductive matter to furnish their 
 solution, under others none. 
 
 But granting a system, next comes our second question, 
 What is the centre of the system ? For if to any of the 
 orbs ought to be assigned the central place, there appear 
 first to be two orbs which present the character of a middle 
 point or centre—the earth and the sun. In favour of the 
 earth there are our senses, and immemorial opinion, and 
 most of all this circumstance, that as dense bodies contract 
 into a narrow, and rare are diffused over a wide space, 
 and the area of every circle contracts towards its centre, 
 it seems to follow of necessity that the contracted part 
 should be placed at the centre of the world, as the appro¬ 
 priate, and, as it were, the only place for dense bodies. For 
 the sun again this reason makes, that to a body whose 
 functions in the system are greatest and most potent, that 
 place ought to be assigned from which it can best act 
 upon, and diffuse its influence over the entire system. To 
 this we may add that the sun evidently has as his satellites 
 Venus and Mercury, and, in the opinion of Tycho, also the 
 rest of the planets; so that the sun plainly appears to pos¬ 
 sess the nature, and to perform, in some instances, the office 
 of a centre. Therefore we are brought so much nearer 
 the determination that it is the centre of the universe, which 
 was the assertion of Copernicus. But in the system of 
 Copernicus there are many and great difficulties : first, there 
 is something revolting to belief, in encumbering the earth 
 with three motions, in detaching the sun from the group of 
 planets with which it has so many common properties, 
 in introducing so much immobility into the system of 
 nature, (particularly by making the stars and sun immove¬ 
 able, the bodies most luminous and sparkling of any), in 
 wishing to fasten, as it were, the moon to the epicycle 
 of the earth, and in some other assumptions which he 
 makes;—savouring of the character of a man who thinks 
 nothing of inventing any figment at the expense of na¬ 
 ture, provided the bowls of haphazard roll well. But if 
 we are to ascribe motion to the earth, it seems more consis¬ 
 tent to banish the idea of a system, and of various globes 
 conceived to be distributed over space, according to the idea 
 of those whom we have already mentioned, than to estab- 
 

 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 165 
 
 lish such a system with the sun for its centre. And the 
 consent of later ages and of antiquity has rather anticipated 
 and sanctioned that idea than not. For the supposition of 
 the earth’s motion is not new, but, as we have already said, 
 echoed from the ancients; but that of the sun being the 
 centre of the world, and immoveably fixed, is entirely new, 
 (if we except the supposed mention of it in an ill translated 
 verse) and was first promulgated by Copernicus. 
 
 A third question follows with respect to the depth of the 
 system, not that any exact measure of it can be taken, but 
 that it may be set down for certain: whether the starry 
 heaven is, so to speak, one region, or as it is commonly 
 expressed, orb, or whether the stars which are denominated 
 fixed, are higher than the others, in a sort of abysmal pro¬ 
 found ? For it cannot be that they are of equal height, if 
 we understand this strictly; for the stars are undoubtedly 
 not arranged as in a plane, having a certain measureable 
 size on a superficies, like spots or embedded gems, but 
 are entire globes, large, and lying deep in the profound. 
 Wherefore when they are found of such disproportionate 
 magnitude, it is by all means requisite that some of them 
 should come out more than others, either upwards or down¬ 
 wards; nor can it be that either in the upper or lower part 
 of them, they are joined in one continuous layer. Were 
 this true of certain portions of the stars, it would be rash to 
 assert it of them in their aggregate, that the stars are not 
 higher placed the one than the other; but even though 
 this were true, still we can affirm a defined and very per¬ 
 ceptible depth or thickness of that region which is called 
 the sphere or starry heaven, containing such projecting 
 points and varieties of altitude; for we see, from the apo¬ 
 gees and perigees of the planets, that there belongs to their 
 several heavens a certain distinguishable depth through 
 which they mount and descend. But that question only 
 regards this point,—whether there are stars one above 
 another as planet above planet, and, as it were, in different 
 orbits ? And that again is in like manner collateral to the 
 other question, regarding the motion or condition of the 
 earth. For if the stars revolve with a diurnal motion about 
 the earth, since they are all carried with the like celerity, 
 and as it were with the one impulse; and since it is 
 plainly apparent that each of the planets, as it varies in 
 height or lowness of position, so it also varies in rapidity 
 or slowness of motion;—it is probable that stars, equal in 
 the swiftness of their revolution, are placed in one region of 
 
166 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 ether, of which although the thickness or depth may be 
 supposed considerable, still it is not so great as to create 
 a difference in their incitation or celerity, but only such, 
 that through the whole of each region respectively, all the 
 bodies revolve simultaneously as if fastened with the chain 
 of one common essence, or, at least with such discrepancy 
 as, by reason of the distance, is not brought within our 
 vision. Now, if the earth moves, the stars may either 
 stand still (as Copernicus thought), or, which is far more 
 probable, and was suggested by Gilbertus, they may re¬ 
 volve each in its place, round its own centre, without any 
 motion of that centre, (as the earth does, if you divide its 
 diurnal motion from those two supposed motions which 
 Copernicus has superadded to it). For whichever of these 
 is the fact, it hinders not that there may be stars ranged 
 one above another, till they escape our vision. 
 
 The fourth question relates to the cohesion of the sys¬ 
 tem, or to the substance connecting it. As to the na¬ 
 ture and essential properties of that body or thing which 
 is thought to be pure ether, and is interfused between 
 the stars, we shall presently inquire. We shall now speak 
 only of the principle of cohesion in the system. There are 
 three modes of viewing this. For we must either grant a va¬ 
 cuum, or a substance whose parts are in contact, or lastly, in 
 continuity. Our first inquiry is, whether there is an extent of 
 absolute vacuity or a vacuum coacervatum in the interstellar 
 space, which Gilbertus ably maintained, and which several 
 of the ancients appear to countenance, who supposed that 
 the various orbs were scattered about without any regular 
 system, especially those who declared the bodies of the 
 stars to be compact masses. Such an opinion amounts to 
 this, that all the globes, as well the stars as the earth, con¬ 
 sist of solid and dense matter. That they are enveloped, 
 next their surface, with a certain description of bodies, 
 which are so far homogeneous to their respective globes, 
 but nevertheless more thin, feeble, and attenuated, and 
 which are nothing but effluvia or emanations from the globes 
 themselves, such as are vapours and exhalations, and air 
 itself, if compared with earth. That these effluvia reach 
 to a distance not considerable round each several globe, 
 and that the rest of the interval between the globes, which 
 is incomparably the largest part, is a void. Which opinion 
 we may be prepared to adopt by the fact, that the bodies 
 of the stars are visible from such a prodigious distance. 
 For were the whole of that space full, especially of bodies 
 
 - 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 167 
 
 extremely unequal in their degrees of density and rarity, 
 so great would be the refraction of their rays that they could 
 not be propagated to our vision, which, if by far the greatest 
 portion of this space were unoccupied, it is consistent to 
 believe they might be. And, indeed, this question seems 
 to depend, in a great measure, on the question which we 
 shall immediately bring forward respecting the substance 
 of the stars, whether it be dense, or subtle, or expanded? 
 For if their substance be solid, it should certainly seem as 
 if nature were only occupied and in action about these 
 globes, and their boundaries, and had neglected, and as 
 it were left fallow, the interposed spaces. Wherefore it 
 is not improbable that the globes are, towards their cen¬ 
 tres, more compact, towards their surface more lax, in their 
 circumambient substances and effluvia grow less substan¬ 
 tial still, and finally terminate in a vacuum. On the other 
 hand, if the essence of the stars is subtle and igneous, it 
 will be manifest that the nature of rare is not merely pri¬ 
 vative, but of itself a powerful and primary element, not 
 less than the nature of solid, and that it exists in force or 
 prevails in the stars, in ether, and in the atmosphere, so 
 that there is need of the hypothesis of a vacuum coacer¬ 
 vatum. That question, too, about a vacuum in the inter¬ 
 stellar fields will depend upon another connected with the 
 great principles of nature: whether we must admit a vacuum 
 at all ? And this not without modifying it by a distinction : 
 for it is one thing to deny a vacuum absolutely, and another 
 to deny a vacuum coacervatum. For much more solid 
 reasons may be alleged for a vacuum intermistum being in¬ 
 terposed to keep bodies in a certain degree of laxity, than for 
 maintaining a vacuum coacervatum (or large vacant spaces). 
 And not only was that ingenious man, and great mechanician 
 Hero sensible of this, but also Democritus and Leucippus, 
 the inventors of the theory of a vacuum, which Aristotle 
 attempts to attack and overthrow by certain logical subtle¬ 
 ties. These two most acute and famous philosophers admit 
 a vacuum intermistum in such a manner as to exclude a 
 vacuum coacervatum. For according to the opinion of De¬ 
 mocritus every vacuum is so limited and circumscribed as 
 not to admit of the separation or disruption of bodies beyond 
 certain limits, no more than it does of their contraction and 
 consolidation. Though in what has been preserved of the 
 writings of Democritus, this is no where propounded expli¬ 
 citly, yet he seems to say this, that bodies, as well as spaces, 
 are infinite, that otherwise (that is, if there were in fact 
 
1G8 
 
 A STRO NO MIC A L HI STO IIY. 
 
 infinite space and finite bodies), bodies would never cohere : 
 therefore on account of coinfinity of matter and space a 
 vacuum is necessarily compressed into certain limits; which 
 seems to have been his opinion, truly and accurately un¬ 
 derstood ; in other words, that certain limits must be set 
 to the developement or expansion of bodies through the 
 permeating vacuum; not granting a vacuum apart, or space 
 unreplenished with body. But if there cannot be admitted 
 in the system, a vacuum of the nature of a solution of con¬ 
 tinuity, yet seeing there is found in the parts or portions of 
 the system so extreme a diversity of bodies that they seem 
 to be of different races and countries, there arises a second 
 question which relates to the connection of the system; it 
 is this, w hether pure ether be one entire or unbroken stream, 
 or whether it consist of a variety of contiguous parts ? Now 
 it is no part of our character to subtilize about words: but 
 by a contiguous body we understand one which lies upon, 
 without being amalgamated with, another body. Nor again 
 do we mean some impenetrable or hard superstratum, such 
 as the astronomers in general mean, but one such as fluids 
 exhibit, in the instance of water floating on the top of 
 quicksilver; oil, of the water; air, of the oil. For no one 
 can doubt that in the immense expanse of ether there are 
 immense differences in rarity and density, and in many 
 other properties: but granting either, that is a plenum or 
 vacuum, this may equally be the fact. For it is sufficiently 
 certain that not even in the sea itself, the water at the top 
 and at the bottom is of the same consistency and taste; 
 and, in the air, there is extreme difference between the air 
 contiguous to the earth, and the upper air, and yet it is 
 one entire and unbroken liquid body. The question is 
 therefore brought to this point: whether the differences in 
 the tract of pure air, as it were, insinuate themselves in 
 a continuous stream of imperceptible gradations, or are 
 distributed and arranged into defined and conspicuous 
 limits, where bodies are joined in their locality, which could 
 not be amalgamated, even as among us air lies on water. 
 For to one who considers the matter simply, the whole 
 of that clear and limpid substance in which the globes 
 of the earth and sun are suspended and float, and which, 
 being interposed between those globes, by its quantity 
 and the space which it occupies, exceeds the dimension of 
 the globes, so to speak, innumerable times,—is a thing 
 undivided and perfectly united within itself. But to one 
 who looks into nature more correctly, this will plainly 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 169 
 
 appear, that nature is wont to make her way from one 
 locality to another, now by steps, anon abruptly byjeaps, 
 and then reverses the progression. Otherwise, if any one 
 really looks into the case, there could be no structure, no 
 organized figure, did nature always proceed by impercep¬ 
 tible degrees. Wherefore this process by gradations may 
 be fitly placed in the intervals between worlds, but not in 
 a world, to the organization of which it is required that 
 things much dissimilar should be severed the one from the 
 other, and yet brought into close contiguity. Thus it is 
 that the air embraces and is in contact with the earth and 
 waters, a body widely different, and yet placed in proxi¬ 
 mity, not in the order of, first, earth, then vapour or fog, 
 then pure air, but air at once without an intermediate body. 
 And in the air and ether two substances we usually join 
 with one another, the most conspicuous and thorough di¬ 
 versity of all may be observed, from their quality being 
 more or less susceptible of a starry nature. There appear 
 therefore to be three regions most distinctly lying between 
 the earth and the highest point of heaven: that is, the 
 region of the air, the region of the planetary heaven, and 
 the region of the starry heaven. Now in the lowest region 
 the substance of the stars is not found, it exists in the 
 middle in the form of conglobation into certain orbs, but in 
 the highest heaven it is dispersed into numberless globes, 
 so that in its highest region it seems to migrate, as it were, 
 into the pure empyreum. Meantime, that must not be for¬ 
 gotten, which we mentioned a little before, that nature is 
 accustomed to alternate fine gradations and distinct tran¬ 
 sits in her processes, so that the confines of the first com¬ 
 municate with the second, and of the second with the third. 
 For in the upper air, after the air has begun to be purified 
 from the effluvia of the earth, and refined by the vici¬ 
 nity of the heavenly bodies, flame searches out its way 
 and struggles into form; as we see in the lower kind of 
 comets, which are of an intermediate nature between the 
 steady and an evanescent sidereal nature. And again, the 
 part of heaven near the sun appears to grow stellescent, 
 and to pass into a starry essence. For those maculae 
 which are discoverable, by a faithful and careful observa¬ 
 tion of the sun, are a sort of germ or rudiments of starry 
 matter; and in the heaven about Jupiter there are also 
 visible complete and perfect stars, though, from their mi¬ 
 nuteness, invisible without the help of telescopes. And 
 again, in the upper parts of the starry heaven, from num- 
 
170 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 berless scintillae in the ether between the fixed stars, (for 
 which other sufficiently unmeaning reasons are given), the 
 starry essence seems to be more diffused and spread out 
 continuously. But of these points we shall say more in 
 discussing those questions, which we presently propose to 
 consider, respecting the substance of the stars and the 
 interstellar ether. For what we now say relates only to 
 questions respecting the connexion of the system. 
 
 A fifth question remains concerning the distribution of 
 the parts of the system, or the order of the heavenly bodies. 
 And granting that there is not a system but only scattered 
 globes, or granting that there is a system the centre of 
 which is the sun, or even allowing the astronomers to go 
 in quest of some new system, still there remains equally 
 this inquiry: What planet is nearer or more distant from 
 any other planet ? and in like manner what planet is at 
 a greater or less distance from the earth, or even from 
 the sun? Now if the system of the ancients is admitted, 
 there seems no reason why we should attach great import¬ 
 ance to any new inquiry concerning the four higher hea¬ 
 vens, namely, those of the fixed stars, of Saturn, Jupiter, 
 and Mars. For their position and order are testified by the 
 suffrage of all antiquity, and by the absence of any contra¬ 
 dictory phenomenon; their modes of revolving also, whence 
 is derived our principal evidence of the relative heights of 
 the heavenly bodies, are adapted to this structure, and no 
 where interfere with it. But as to the Sun, Venus, Mer¬ 
 cury, and the Moon, even on the principles of the old sys¬ 
 tem, there was some doubt among the ancients; and among 
 the moderns it is still a question, with respect to Venus 
 and Mercury, which planet is higher than the other ? For 
 in favour of the superior height of Venus this reason offers 
 itself, that it moves somewhat more slowly; and of Mer¬ 
 cury, that it is fixed at a nearer distance from the sun, 
 whence one should naturally maintain that it ought to be 
 placed next the sun in height. But, as to the moon, no one 
 ever had any doubt that its place was next the earth, 
 though there was a difference of opinion with regard to its 
 approaches to the sun. Nor ought one question relating 
 to the arrangement of the system to escape a serious in¬ 
 quirer into the subject, which is this, whether the planets 
 alternately pass over and pass below one another ? which 
 seems to be authenticated in the case of Venus by ela¬ 
 borate demonstrations of the fact that it is found sometimes 
 placed below the sun, sometimes above it. And doubtless 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 171 
 
 also this is an apt question: whether the deflection of the 
 lower planet does not cut the orbit of the higher planet, and 
 enter within its periphery ? 
 
 There remains our last question concerning the colloca¬ 
 tion of parts in the system, that is, whether there be several 
 and different centres in the system, and several choral 
 bands, so to speak, moving around them; especially since 
 the earth is affirmed to be the centre of primary motion; 
 since the sun (in the opinion of Tycho) is the centre of secon¬ 
 dary motion; and even Jupiter is made, by Galileo, the 
 centre of the inferior and lately discovered motion of certain 
 satellites. 
 
 These then are the questions which it seems fitting to 
 propose with respect to the celestial system: namely, whe¬ 
 ther there is a system, and what is its depth, what its con¬ 
 nexion, and what is the order of distributing its parts. 
 As to the outermost parts of heaven, and what has been 
 termed the empyrean heaven, we enter into no theories or 
 inquiries. Therefore what can be known of it can be 
 learned only from inference, not at all by induction. For 
 such inquisition, therefore, there will both be a fitting time, 
 and a specific plan and mode. 
 
 As respects the heaven of heavens and pure space, we 
 are bound entirely to stand by, and submit to, revelation. 
 For as to what has been said by the Platonic school, and 
 lately by Patricius, (in order, forsooth, to exalt themselves 
 to a diviner height in philosophy), and said not without 
 gross and visionary extravagance, the ravings, as it were, 
 of a disordered mind;—in short, advanced with extreme 
 audacity and no result, like the acones and other dreams 
 of Valentine, these we regard as mere figments. For we 
 are not tamely to submit to the apotheosis of folly, like that 
 of the Emperor Claudius. It is worse than all other evils 
 —the very pestilence and death of intellect—to attach re¬ 
 verence to its chimeras. 
 
172 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 CHAP. VII. 
 
 The following are Questions relating to the Substance of 
 the Heavenly Bodies; viz. What Species of Substance is 
 that of the Heavenly Bodies generally, compared to Sub¬ 
 lunary Bodies;—the Substance of the interstellar Ether 
 compared to the Body of a Star;—the Substance of the 
 Stars themselves compared to one another, and compared 
 to our Fire, arid in its proper Essence;—and what Species 
 of Substance is that of the Galaxy, and of the opake 
 Maculce visible in the Antarctic Hemisphere ? Then the 
 First Query is set forth, Whether there is a diversity of 
 Substance between Bodies celestial and sublunary, and in 
 what it consists ? 
 
 Having finished our inquiries respecting the system, we 
 must now proceed to those which regard the substance, of 
 the heavenly bodies; for it is the substance of the heavenly 
 bodies, and the courses of their motion, that philosophy 
 chiefly seeks to know. Astronomy investigates their real 
 motion itself and its properties—both astronomy and phi¬ 
 losophy their influence and effect. 
 
 Care ought to be taken, however, accurately to distin¬ 
 guish between astronomy and philosophy: astronomy pre¬ 
 ferring those hypotheses which are most convenient for 
 shortening the method of calculation; but philosophy 
 those which most approximate to the truth of nature:— 
 further, that, on the one hand, the hypotheses of astro¬ 
 nomy do not in any way prejudge truth; and on the other, 
 the positions of philosophy be such as are perfectly tenable 
 upon the phenomena of astronomy. Whereas, on the con¬ 
 trary, the fact now is, that the figments of astronomy have 
 insinuated themselves into philosophy, and perverted it; 
 and the theories of philosophers about the heavenly bodies 
 are reconcileable only to themselves, and in a great measure 
 abandon astronomy, contemplating in general the system 
 of the heavens, but by no means accommodating them¬ 
 selves to particular phenomena and their causes. Thus 
 while either science, such as we now have them, is a thing 
 superficial and perfunctory, the foot must be planted more 
 vigorously by far on this foundation—that these two 
 sciences, which, by reason of the contracted speculations 
 of men, and the practice of academic teachers, have been 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 173 
 
 habitually disconnected for so many ages, are one and the 
 same thing, and concrete in one body of science. 
 
 Therefore we propose it as our first question, Whether 
 or not there is a diversity between the substance of the 
 heavenly bodies and that of this lower orb ? For the pre¬ 
 mature and dogmatical doctrine of Aristotle has created 
 for us only an imaginary heaven, formed of a certain fifth 
 essence without change and also without heat. And 
 waiving for the present any discussion respecting the four 
 elements which this quintessence takes for granted, it was 
 certainly a piece of great temerity to annihilate all affinity 
 between the elementary substances as they are called, and 
 the heavenly bodies; when two of the elements, namely 
 air and fire, agree so well with the star and the ether; but 
 it was the custom of that great man to abuse his genius, 
 create work for himself, and prefer the obscure. N ot, how¬ 
 ever, that there is any doubt that the regions situated 
 above and beneath the moon, along with the bodies com¬ 
 prehended within the same limits and space, differ in many 
 important particulars. Nor again is this more certain than 
 that in the bodies of each region there exist many tenden¬ 
 cies, affections, and motions common to both ; so that, 
 preserving unbroken the unity of nature, we ought rather 
 to discriminate than to pluck them forcibly asunder. And 
 as regards one part of the supposed discrepancy, namely, 
 that the celestial bodies are imagined to be eternal, the 
 sublunary perishable, that doctrine seems to be a fallacy 
 either way, as neither that eternity which they fancy is 
 true of heaven, nor that mutability of earth. Indeed to 
 one who justly weighs the matter, a judgment ought by no 
 means to be formed from those things which are visible to 
 us, since none of the objects which meet the human eye 
 are dug or cast up from a greater depth than about three 
 miles at most, which is as nothing compared to the dia¬ 
 meter of the earth. Therefore nothing hinders that the 
 interior part of the earth may be endowed with a like eter¬ 
 nity to heaven itself. For if the earth were subject to 
 changes in its womb, it is impossible that the results of 
 those changes should not produce greater calamities on the 
 surface of it which we tread, than we see taking place. 
 For of those changes which present themselves conspicu¬ 
 ously to us here in the direction of the surface of the 
 earth, there is generally some visible and apparent cause 
 acting from above, such as tempests, rains, heat, and the 
 like; so that the earth of itself, and of its own virtue, 
 
174 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 seems to furnish the cause of almost none of its changes. 
 If it is conceded, (which indeed is not improbable), that 
 the earth itself too, and not heavenly bodies only, acts 
 upon the fields of air, either by an efflux of cold, or by 
 emitting winds, or some other similar modes, still all that 
 variety is ascribed only to some portions of the earth in 
 immediate contact with the air itself, in which none will 
 deny there exists a multitude of changes and vicissitudes. 
 But it must be fully admitted that, of the phenomena of 
 the earth, earthquake enters the deepest by far into its 
 bowels; and, which are of the same class, gushes of 
 water, volcanoes, fissures and convulsions of the earth and 
 the like, which notwithstanding do not seem to rise from a 
 great depth, since most of them generally affect but a cer¬ 
 tain limited portion of the earth’s surface. In proportion 
 as an earthquake affects a larger space on the earth’s sur¬ 
 face, in the same proportion we are to infer that its roots 
 and source enter deep into the mass of the earth ; and the 
 contrary, in proportion as it is less extensive. But if any 
 one should allege that there sometimes happen earthquakes 
 which shake large and extensive tracks of country,—no 
 doubt it is so. Yet these rarely occur, and are among the 
 number of the greater calamities of the species, and may 
 therefore be compared to the higher order of comets, which 
 are also of rare occurrence. For we do not now discuss 
 whether eternity absolutely may be affirmed of the earth, 
 but would make it appear, as we stated at the commence¬ 
 ment, that with reference to constancy and mutation there 
 is no great difference between heaven and earth. We do 
 not consider it worth while to contend for the eternity of 
 the earth from the modes of its motion. For it were 
 superfluous to argue eternity from the properties of motion, 
 since, if a circular motion is without a limit, so is rest: eter¬ 
 nity may equally be predicable of the coherency of com¬ 
 pact and large masses of homogeneous substance, as of the 
 rotation of rarer bodies; the parts detached from either 
 flying off in right lines. 
 
 This also may be assumed in reasoning upon the point, 
 that the internal parts of the earth are not more exposed 
 to decay than heaven itself; because something generally 
 perishes of that body wherein something can be repaired. 
 Now when showers, and substances which are precipitated 
 from the air, and which renew the upper surface of the 
 earth, in no way find a passage into the interior parts of 
 the earth, which nevertheless remain fixed by their own 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 175 
 
 i 
 
 gravity and magnitude, it follows of necessity that nothing 
 is substracted, since there is nothing added to succeed it. 
 Finally, that changeableness which we discover in the 
 outmost portion of the earth seems itself to be only acci¬ 
 dental. For that slight crust of the earth, which appears 
 only to dip a few miles downwards, (within which limits 
 are contained those admirable laboratories and workshops 
 of plants and minerals), would by no means afford so 
 great a variety, much less of such beautiful and high- 
 wrought productions, unless that part of the earth was 
 exposed to action, and ceaseless vellication, from the bodies 
 above. Now if any one think that the warmth and action 
 of the sun and heavenly bodies can transverberate the 
 thickness of the whole earth, such a man may be justly 
 regarded as a superstitious and phrenetic dreamer, since it 
 is clearly seen with how small an impediment they may be 
 refracted and kept out. Thus far of the indissolubility of 
 the earth. Let us now inquire of the changeableness of the 
 heavenly bodies. 
 
 First then, we are not to use this mode of reasoning, 
 namely, that mutations do not take place in heaven, be¬ 
 cause they do not come within our own observation. For 
 remoteness of distance, excess or want of light, and fine¬ 
 ness or minuteness of substance, equally baffle vision : 
 thus, if the eye were placed in the orb of the moon, it 
 could not discern those changes which take place amongst 
 us here on the surface of the earth, such as inundations, 
 earthquakes, structures, or huge masses, which at so great 
 a distance are not equal to the size of a gnat. 1 
 
 Nor should any one from the circumstance of the inter¬ 
 stellar air of heaven being transparent, and the stars on a 
 clear night appearing of the same number and form, pro¬ 
 nounce too readily, that the entire body of the ether is 
 diaphanous, firm, and immutable. For the atmosphere 
 itself is subject to endless varieties of heat, cold, scents, 
 and every sort of amalgamation with subtler vapours, yet 
 does not therefore lose its pellucid quality: so in like 
 manner we are not to trust to that feature and aspect of 
 heaven. For if those huge masses of clouds which occa¬ 
 sionally cover the heavens, and take from our sight the 
 sun and stars, on account of their nearness to our point of 
 vision, were suspended in the upper part of the atmos¬ 
 phere, they would by no means change the appearance 
 of a serene sky: for neither could they be seen themselves 
 on account of the distance, nor cause any obscuration of 
 
176 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY'. 
 
 the stars, on account of the smallness of their size, com¬ 
 pared to the magnitude of the stars. Besides the body of 
 the moon itself, except in the part in which it receives 
 light, does not alter the appearance of the sky, so that 
 were that light annihilated, so large a body would entirely 
 escape our view. But, on the contrary, it is clearly appa¬ 
 rent from those bulky bodies, which by their mass and 
 magnitude overcome the effect of distance, and on account 
 of their luminous or sparkling substance forcibly strike 
 our view, that surprising changes and anomalies happen in 
 the heaven. And that is perceived in the higher order of 
 comets, I mean those which assume the appearance of a 
 star without the coma , and which are not only proved by 
 the doctrine of parallaxes to be placed above the moon, 
 but bear a certain and unchangeable relation of position to 
 the fixed stars, and retain their stations without being 
 erratic; of such our age has seen more than one, first in 
 Cassiopaea, and afterwards not long ago in Ophiuchus. 
 And as to this kind of regularity, which is seen in such 
 comets arising from their following the motion of some 
 star (which was the opinion of Aristotle, who asserted that 
 there wac a like relation of a comet to the motion of a par¬ 
 ticular star, and of the galaxy to that of the stars col¬ 
 lectively, both positions being false), that has now been 
 long exploded, not without a stigma on the genius of Aris¬ 
 totle, who in his airy speculations had the presumption to 
 invent such things. Nor in fact does this change in the 
 heavenly bodies with respect to such new stars, obtain only 
 in those stars which appear to be of a vanishing nature, 
 but also of those which remain in their place. For in 
 the instance of the new star of Hipparchus, of the ap¬ 
 pearance of which mention is made among the ancients, 
 there is none made of its disappearance; a new star has 
 lately become visible in the breast of Cygnus, which has 
 now continued for twelve entire years, exceeding the dura¬ 
 tion of a comet, which it has been held to be, by a consider¬ 
 able period, and not yet lessened in disk, or threatening to 
 disappear. Nor again, is it properly and invariably true, 
 that the old stars are not subject to change, but only the 
 stars of later Epiphany, in which it is not to be wondered 
 if change takes place, since their very production and 
 commencement is not immemorial. For passing over that 
 fable of the Arcadians with respect to the first appearance 
 of the moon, in which they boast that they are of greater 
 antiquity than that planet, there are not wanting in history 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 177 
 
 sufficiently authenticated facts on the subject, as when 
 the sun three several times,—without the occurrence of an 
 eclipse, or the intervention of clouds, appeared in a clear 
 and serene sky, changed in appearance for many days, 
 and yet not affected in the same way each time, being 
 once of slender light, and twice of a ferruginous colour. 
 For these phenomena took place in the year 790, during 
 seventeen days, and in the time of Justinian during half a 
 year; and after the death of Julius Caesar, during several 
 days. To that obscuration we have still extant that noted 
 testimony in Virgil:— 
 
 Ille etiam extincto miseratus Caesare Romam 
 
 Cum caput obscura nitidum ferrugine texit, 
 
 Impiaque eternam timuerunt saecula noctem. 
 
 And the statement of Varro, a most skilful antiquarian, to 
 be found in Augustine respecting the planet Venus, to this 
 effect, that in the reign of Ogyges it changed its colour, 
 size, and figure, might well have been doubted, had not a 
 similar fact occurred again, signalised by much observa¬ 
 tion in our own days, in the year 1578. For then, too, 
 during a whole year, a memorable change took place in 
 the planet Venus, which was seen of unusual size and 
 brilliancy, exceeding in redness even the planet Mars, and 
 more than once changed its figure, becoming sometimes 
 triangular, sometimes square, and sometimes circular, so 
 that even its very body and substance seemed to be affected. 
 Again, that star among the old stars, placed in the hip 
 of Canicula, which Aristotle says he himself saw, having 
 some coma, which he particularly noted, vibrating when 
 he looked at it intently, appears to be since then changed 
 and to be divested of its hair, since no trace of that appear¬ 
 ance is found on it in our day. Add to these facts that 
 many alterations of the celestial bodies, particularly of the 
 smaller, from neglecting to make observations, easily escape 
 notice, and are lost to us. Now it will readily occur to a 
 sciolist to ascribe such appearances to exhalations and the 
 constitution of the medium of vision; but these alterations, 
 which are found to affect such a body continuously and 
 equally for a considerable time, and to accompany it in its 
 revolutions, ought to be placed altogether to the account 
 of the star itself, or at least something in the ether con¬ 
 tiguous to it, not in the lower tracks of the air; of which 
 we may assume this as a strong argument, that such changes 
 rarely occur, and at long distances of years, but those 
 which take place in the atmosphere by the interposition 
 
 VOL. XV. N 
 
178 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 of vapours more frequently. And if any one forms a judg¬ 
 ment from the regularity of the heavenly bodies, and the 
 equability of the motion itself, that the heaven is immutable, 
 and should set down the exactness of their periods and re¬ 
 newals as a distinct mark of their eternity,—seeing con¬ 
 stancy of motion seems scarcely compatible with a perish¬ 
 able substance,—he ought to advert a little more attentively 
 to this, that such a periodical reappearance, as if in a 
 cycle, at stated intervals, may be even found among our¬ 
 selves in several things, particularly in the tides of the 
 ocean; besides, smaller variations which may obtain among 
 the heavenly bodies, their dates and renewals, escape our 
 vision, and baffle our calculations. Nor ought the revolu¬ 
 tion of the heavenly bodies in a circle to be taken as a 
 better proof of their eternity, because, forsooth, there is no 
 end to impulsion in a circle, and an immortality of motion 
 is agreeable to an immortality of substance. For even the 
 secondary comets, which have their place lower than the 
 moon, perform revolutions, and that from a property of 
 their own; unless we are to give credit to the figment of 
 their being attached to stars. For if we will argue the 
 eternity of the heavenly bodies from their circular motion, 
 that ought to be referred to the entire system of the heavens, 
 not to its parts; for the atmosphere, the sea, and the land, 
 are eternal in the totality, perishable in the parts. Besides, 
 on the contrary, we ought not to presume the motion of 
 the heavenly bodies from their revolving motion, because 
 that very motion is not a perfect one, nor renewing itself 
 absolutely in an exact and pure circle, but with declina¬ 
 tions, eccentricities, and ellipses. Moreover, if any one 
 should retort upon us the observation we made respecting 
 the earth, in stating that those changes which occurred in 
 it were accidental not substantial, and arose from the ac¬ 
 tion upon it of the heavenly bodies, and should assert that 
 the relation of heaven is directly contrary, since the heaven 
 can in no way be reciprocally influenced by the earth, and 
 any efflux from the earth falls short of the sphere of the 
 heavenly bodies; so that it is probable that heaven, placed 
 aloof from all action adverse to its durability, is susceptible 
 of eternity of duration, since it is not at all agitated or in¬ 
 fringed upon by an antagonist substance; this seems an 
 objection not to be despised. For we are not likely per¬ 
 sons to defer to the childish notion of Thales, who con¬ 
 ceived that the heavenly bodies absorbed the exhalations 
 raised by the earth and sea, and were therewith fed 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 179 
 
 and repaired; (since these exhalations generally fall in a 
 like quantity as they have mounted, and are by no means 
 enough to refresh both the earth and the spheres of heaven, 
 nor by possibility extend to such a height); yet notwith¬ 
 standing, though the gross evaporations of the earth stop 
 far short of heaven, if the earth be the “ primum frigi¬ 
 dum” (principle of cold), according to the doctrine of 
 Parmenides and Telesius, it would not be easy or safe for 
 any one to affirm to what height this force, the antago¬ 
 nist and rival of that of heaven, penetrates by a gradual 
 and successive approximation; especially as these sub¬ 
 stances imbibe and propagate to a great distance the na¬ 
 ture and effects of heat and cold. Yet granting that 
 heaven is not affected by earth, that is no objection why 
 the heavenly bodies should not mutually suffer action and 
 change one from another; the sun for instance from the 
 stars, the stars from the sun, the planets from both, all 
 from the interposed ether, particularly that circumambient 
 to the several spheres. Besides, the opinion of the eternity 
 of heaven appears to have derived great force from that 
 mechanism and fabric of heaven, which the astronomers 
 have busied themselves to very little purpose to invent. 
 For they seem to have taken infinite trouble to guard 
 against the opinion that the heavenly bodies suffer any 
 influence but the effect of mere rotation, being in other 
 respects unchangeable and imperturbable. They have 
 therefore nailed up, as it were, the stars in their orbits. 
 And in their several deflections, elevations, depressions, 
 and windings, they have detected as many perfect circles 
 of the just diameter, elaborately paring and smoothing 
 both the convex and concave side- of these circles, so that 
 there is found in them no projection or abruptness; but 
 the one being received within the other, and, by reason of 
 its smoothness of curve, placed in exactly the proper con¬ 
 tiguity, yet so as to slide easily into one, move serenely 
 and kindly; which immortal system of impulses easily 
 precludes all agitation and disturbance, the precursors of 
 dissolution. For, doubtless, if bodies so great as are the 
 starry orbs while cutting the ether, do not always con¬ 
 tinually describe the same paths in its expanse, but pass 
 through regions and tracks far removed from one another, 
 sometimes ascending the upper fields of space, sometimes 
 descending towards the earth, sometimes directing them¬ 
 selves to the south, sometimes to the north, there is immi¬ 
 nent dan^r that numerous impressions, shocks, reactions, 
 
180 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 and recoils, should take place in these bodies, and that 
 from these should arise the condensations and rarefac¬ 
 tions of substance which prognosticate and breed produc¬ 
 tions and alterations. But since from physical considera¬ 
 tions, and, moreover, from the phenomena themselves, it 
 will hold that this latter position is the truth, and that the 
 former fictions of astronomers, if any one looks at them 
 soberly, in reality mock nature, and are found empty of 
 facts : it is consistent that the notion,—their concomitant, 
 —of the eternity of the heavenly bodies, should incur the 
 same censure. And if any one should make religion an 
 objection, we would have him thus answered; that it was 
 the boast of the heathens to attach eternity only to the 
 heaven and the sun, but that sacred scripture ascribes it 
 equally to heaven and earth. For there we read not only 
 that “ the sun and the moon bear faithful witness in 
 heaven; ” but that all “ generations come and pass away, 
 but the earth remaineth for ever.” And we find the fleet¬ 
 ing and perishable nature of both coupled in one and the 
 same oracle; “ heaven and earth shall pass away, but my 
 word shall not pass away.” Then if any should insist, 
 that nevertheless it cannot be denied, but that on the sur¬ 
 face of the earth, and the contiguous parts, innumerable 
 changes take place,—not in heaven; we meet the objection 
 thus : that we do not make them equal in all respects; and 
 yet, if we take the upper and lower regions of the air, as 
 they are called, to be the surface or exterior coat of heaven ; 
 even as we regard that space among ourselves, within 
 which animals, plants, and minerals are contained, as the 
 surface or outer garment of earth, there too we find nume¬ 
 rous and manifold productions. Wherefore it seems as if 
 all collision and disturbance took place only on the frontiers 
 of heaven and earth, as is frequently the case in matters 
 civil, when the inland provinces of two neighbouring coun¬ 
 tries enjoy continued peace, and are only thrown into com¬ 
 motion by the more rare and formidable kinds of war. 
 
 And with respect to that other part of the supposed 
 heterogeny of the heavenly bodies, as maintained by Aris¬ 
 totle, that they are not subject to heat, lest perchance the 
 conflagration dreaded by Heraclitus might be the result, 
 but that they are warmed, per accidens , by the friction and 
 diverberation of the air; we do not understand what this 
 straggler from experience means, contradicting too, as he 
 does, the sense of antiquity on the subject. But it is no¬ 
 thing wonderful to find that man*' divorcing any given sub- 
 
 * Aristotle. 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 181 
 
 ject from experience, and presently turning away in a sort 
 of scorn from nature,—at once pusillanimous and audacious. 
 Of that however we shall presently speak, when we come 
 to the question, “ whether the stars are real fires ,” and more 
 largely and correctly in our counsels respecting the History 
 of Virtues, where we shall discourse of the sources, and 
 cradles of heat and cold, as yet unknown to and untouched 
 by man. Thus we have stated the question with respect 
 to the heterogeny of the heavenly bodies. For though, 
 perhaps, the case demands that we should condemn, with¬ 
 out postponing the conviction, the doctrine of Aristotle, it 
 is not consistent with our purpose. 
 
 Another question proposed was, what that substance 
 is contained in the interstellar spaces ? These are either a 
 void as Gilbertus conceived; or filled with a substance, 
 which is to the stars what air is to flame, the hypothesis 
 most closely approaching the experience of our senses; or 
 filled with a substance essentially the same with that of 
 the stars themselves, luminous, and to a certain degree em¬ 
 pyrean, but of a secondary order, being of a light not so 
 brilliant and coruscating, which seems to be meant by the 
 received opinion that a star is the denser part of its own 
 sphere. For there can be no objection to conceiving it a 
 bright transparent medium, for conveying stronger light. 
 Telesius has acutely observed, that common air contains 
 within itself a certain quantity of light, using this argu¬ 
 ment, that there are certain animals which see by night, 
 whose visual organs are adapted to receive and kindly 
 entertain this weak sort of light. For it is a less credible 
 supposition that a visual act takes place without any light, 
 or from the internal illuminating power of the spirit. And 
 even flame itself is seen diaphanous, to such a degree as 
 to give out the form of opaque substances, as is seen in 
 the wick of candles, much more to be the vehicle for the 
 form of more intense light. For the flame of tallow or 
 wax is more lustrous, and, if we may use the expression, 
 more igneous; but the flame of spirits of wine is more 
 opaque, and as it were more aeriform, so that the flame is 
 not inspissated. And I also made an experiment on this 
 subject, which was done by taking a wax candle and 
 raising it in a sconce, (using a metal one for the purpose of 
 protecting the body of the candle from the flame, which 
 was to be circumfused), and placing the sconce in a goblet 
 in which was a small quantity of spirits of wine, and first 
 lighting the candle, and then igniting the spirits of wine; 
 
182 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 when you might clearly see the radiating and white light 
 of the candle in the midst of the flame of the spirits of 
 wine, which was weak, and approaching to a mere pellucid 
 medium. And in like manner there are often seen in 
 the heavens luminous belts, affording a distinctly visible 
 light of their own, vividly illuminating the darkness of 
 the night, through the substance of which, however, the 
 stars are plainly discernible. And that difference between 
 a star, and the interstellar air is not justly described by 
 the terms rare and dense, that is by the star being denser, 
 the ether rarer. For generally here among us flame is 
 a body subtler than the air, I mean more expanded, and 
 having in it less matter for the space it occupies, which 
 may probably obtain also in the heavenly bodies. It is 
 a gross mistake, if they really suppose the star to be a 
 part of a sphere in which it is fastened, as it were, by a 
 nail, and the ether a vehicle in which it is carried. For 
 either the body of the star cuts the ether, or the ether 
 itself is carried round in the same rotation. This notion, 
 then, is a mere invention, like that fabric of orbs upon 
 orbs which they describe. For if they revolve otherwise 
 than simultaneously, it is still necessary that the star cut 
 the ether. For that supposed arrangement of adjacent 
 orb, so that the concave of the outer falls in with the 
 convex of the interior orbit, yet on account of the curve 
 of both, the one does not interfere with the other in its 
 revolutions, though differing from its own, has no founda¬ 
 tion in fact; since the body of the ether is unbroken, just 
 as that of the air is: and yet because of the great varieties 
 found in each, their various regions are most properly dis¬ 
 criminated for the purpose of instruction. Wherefore the 
 sixth question, according to this our explanation of it, is a 
 fit subject for inquiry. 
 
 Then follows another question, and not an easy one, with 
 respect to the substance of the stars themselves. We first 
 inquire whether there be other globes or masses of solid 
 and impacted matter besides the earth itself? For the 
 theory is proposed without any extravagance, in our trea¬ 
 tise De Facie in Orbe Luna , that it is not probable, that in 
 the distribution of matter, nature had bound up whatever 
 solid matter there was in the globe of the earth, since there 
 is such a host of other orbs of a sublimated and expanded 
 matter. And Gilbertus carried this theory so extra¬ 
 vagantly far, (in which however he had several precursors, 
 or rather guides among the ancients), as to assert not only 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 183 
 
 that the earth, but various other globes, solid and opaque, 
 were dispersed through the expanse of heaven among the 
 luminous globes. And his opinion did not stop here, but 
 he thought that the latter, namely, the sun, and the most 
 resplendent and brightest stars were composed of a certain 
 solid and, though more shining, equilibrate matter; con¬ 
 founding primitive light with the matter of light, which is 
 supposed to be its image, (for he thought our sea too 
 darted forth light to a certain measureable distance); but 
 Gilbertus admitted the existence of no conglobation, except 
 of crass matter, of which the finer and thinner substances, 
 its envelope, are only effluvia, and lost parts, and to 
 them succeeds a vacuum. Yet the idea respecting the 
 moon, that it is of solid matter, might strike the most 
 accurate and sober-minded inquirer into nature. For it is 
 a refractor, not a vehicle of light, and is, so to speak, devoid 
 of light of its own, and full of vicissitude, all which are 
 properties of solid bodies. For we see the ether itself, and 
 the atmosphere, which are thin bodies, receive, but by no 
 means reverberate the light of the sun, which the moon does. 
 For such is the force of the sun’s rays as to traverse and 
 pierce through clouds of the greatest density, which are of 
 aqueous matter, but through the moon never. But in 
 certain eclipses of the moon there is still visible a light, 
 though an obscure one, in the new and full moon, none, 
 except of the part illuminated by the sun. Moreover foul 
 and feculent flames, of which kind of substance Empe¬ 
 docles supposed the moon to consist, are no doubt subject 
 to change, but thin inequalities are not fixed in a part, but 
 generally moving. Whereas the spots in the moon are 
 thought to be stationary. To this we add that those spots 
 are discovered by the telescope to have their partial minute 
 inequalities, so that we now find a variety of figures in the 
 moon; and that Selenography , a map of the moon pro¬ 
 jected by Gilbertus, we have lived to see executed by the 
 labours of Galileo and others. And if we can suppose the 
 moon composed of some solid substance analogous to earth, 
 or a sort of sediment of heaven, (for some such notions 
 have been mooted), we must consider again, whether it be 
 in this respect solitary. For, in the conjunction of Mercury 
 with the sun, there is sometimes visible a spot or partial 
 eclipse. But those dusky spots which are discovered in the 
 Antarctic hemisphere, and are fixed in position, the same as 
 the galaxy, inspire still greater doubts as to opaque orbs, 
 even in the higher regions of the heavens. For in respect 
 
184 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 that it is alleged as the cause of such appearances, that the 
 heaven is in those places thin, and, so to speak, porous, that 
 is less probable, because a visible diminution and loss of 
 substance could by no means strike our senses from so 
 great a distance, since the rest also of the body of the ether 
 is invisible, and not discernible, except by a comparison 
 with the bodies of the stars. It were perhaps a more pro¬ 
 bable conjecture to consider them as dark spaces occa¬ 
 sioned by want of light ; because in that part of heaven 
 there are found fewer stars, just as they are found 
 thicker about the galaxy, so that the one place presents 
 a continuity of light, the other of shade. For in the 
 Antarctic hemisphere the heavenly fires appear to be 
 more distinctly presented than in ours, there being larger 
 stars, though fewer, and wider interstellar spaces. The 
 statements, too, with respect to these spots are scarcely 
 worthy of entire credit, at least no such great pains have 
 been taken in observing, as to authorise us as yet to infer 
 consequences from the observations made. What more 
 affects the present question is, that there may be opaque 
 globes dispersed through ether, which to us are quite im¬ 
 perceptible. For the moon, also, in its first quarter, so far 
 as it is irradiated by the sun, is indeed visible,—in its horns, 
 that is, and the thin rim its circular outline,—but, at full, not 
 at all,—being lost in the general aspect of the rest of ether: 
 and those small wandering satellites discovered by Galileo, 
 if we are to believe the account about Jupiter, are drowned 
 to our view in the ocean of ether like small and indiscer¬ 
 nible islands; and so those small stars, the combination of 
 which forms the milky way, were they placed dispersedly, 
 each by itself, and not grouped into a body, would cer¬ 
 tainly escape our vision, even as many others do, which 
 sparkle out on clear nights, particularly during winter; so 
 too the nebulous, stars, or perforations in the crib are now, 
 by the telescope, distinctly counted; and with the help of 
 the same instrument a certain obscuration of spots, shade, 
 and irregularity is visible in the fountain of light itself, I 
 mean the sun. And if nothing else did, assuredly that 
 gradation in respect of light, descending and reaching from 
 the most brilliant bodies to the most dim and dark, leads 
 to the inference and belief that there are orbs wholly opaque. 
 For there seem to be fewer degrees of approximation be¬ 
 tween a nebulous and opaque, than between a bright and 
 a nebulous star. Again, man’s vision is manifestly cheated 
 and confined. For whatever lies dispersed in the heaven, 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 185 
 
 and has not a conspicuous magnitude, and an intense, 
 strong light, escapes the eye, and makes no difference in 
 the face of heaven. Nor let it strike doubt into the mind 
 of any less informed inquirer, if the question suggests it¬ 
 self, whether globes of consolidated matter can remain pen¬ 
 sile ? For the earth itself floats pensile in the midst of its 
 circumambient air, the softest of substances, and huge 
 volumes of watery clouds and magazines of hail are long 
 suspended in the fields of air, and are rather precipitated 
 than spontaneously descend, before they begin to be affected 
 by the earth’s contiguity. Wherefore Gilbertus has very 
 well noted that heavy bodies, when carried to long distances 
 from the earth, are gradually divested of their motion to¬ 
 wards the objects beneath, arising from no other propen¬ 
 sion of bodies, than that of uniting and conglomerating to 
 the earth (which is a collection of homogeneous substances), 
 and of which the influence terminates with its own sphere. 
 For as to what is asserted of a motion to the earth’s centre, 
 that would be a sort of potent nothing dragging to itself 
 such large masses; whereas body cannot be affected except 
 by body. Wherefore let this inquiry concerning solid and 
 opaque globes, although it appear new, and to common appre¬ 
 hension difficult, be entertained; and let another be asso¬ 
 ciated with it, the old and undecided one, which of the 
 stars give forth a light original and from themselves, and 
 which from the illumination of the sun; the one class ap¬ 
 pearing to be connatural to the sun, and the other to the 
 moon. 
 
 Finally, we understand all investigation concerning the 
 difference of substance among the stars relatively to one 
 another, a multifarious subject, as it seems,—since some 
 are red, some leaden, some white, some manifestly always 
 brilliant, others nebulous,—to refer to our seventh query. 
 It is another question, whether the stars are real fires, 
 which question notwithstanding requires a degree of con¬ 
 sideration rightly to comprehend it. For it is one thing to 
 say, that the stars are real fires, and another that the stars, 
 supposing them to be real fires, exercise all the properties 
 and perform all the effects of common fire. Not that we 
 are, therefore, to have recourse to the idea of an abstract 
 and imaginary fire retaining the name of fire, but rejecting 
 its properties. For our fire, if placed in ether in such a 
 quantity, as the quantity composing a star, would perform 
 different operations from those which are observed on 
 earth; since things acquire far different properties, both 
 
186 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 from their quantity, and their position or collocation. For 
 the bulkier masses, that is the homogeneous bodies, which 
 are combined in a body of such quantity as to have analogy 
 to the whole of the universe, acquire cosmical properties, 
 which are no where found in their parts. For the ocean, 
 which is the greatest collection of water, ebbs and flows, 
 but marshes and lakes not at all. So in like manner the 
 whole earth remains pendent, a portion of the earth falls. 
 And the position of a body is of great importance, both in 
 its bulkier and smaller portions, on account of the proximity 
 or contiguity of bodies friendly and hostile. Much more, 
 then, must a diversity of action obtain between our fire and 
 that of the stars, because it differs from it not only in the 
 quantity and composition, but also in some degree in sub¬ 
 stance. For the fire of the stars is pure, uncompounded, 
 and native: whereas ours is degenerate, crippled by its fall 
 like Vulcan precipitated to earth. For if one observe it, 
 we have fire among us as if out of its place, flickering, sur¬ 
 rounded with its contraries, poor, and, as it were, begging 
 the alms of nourishment to preserve it, and hastening to 
 disappear. But in heaven fire exists in its true state, dis¬ 
 severed from the encroachment of its contrary, and per¬ 
 forming freely, and without disturbance, its appropriate 
 actions. Therefore it was not at all necessary for Patricius, 
 in order to save the pyramidal form of flame as found 
 among us, to insinuate that the higher part of a star might 
 be pyramidal, though the other part, which is visible to us, 
 be globular. For the pyramidal form of fire is incidental 
 to it from the pressure and confinement of the air. There¬ 
 fore, in flame, the base is fuller, the apex pointed, but in 
 smoke the lower part narrow, the top broadened, and like 
 an inverted pyramid: because air expands to smoke, but 
 compresses fire. It is, therefore, consistent that flame 
 among us should be pyramidal, in heaven globose. In like 
 manner flame among us is a shortlived body, in ether steady 
 and lasting. But even among us flame would remain and 
 subsist in its own form, were it not destroyed by the sur¬ 
 rounding substances, which is very apparent in the larger 
 sort of flames. For every portion of flame placed in the 
 midst of flame perishes not, but remains unextinguished, 
 the same in quantity, and rapidly ascending heavenwards; 
 but on the sides the pressure takes effect, and from them 
 begins the process of extinction. One way of demonstrat¬ 
 ing this fact, I mean the interior flame remaining in a 
 spherical figure, and the exterior gradually vanishing and 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 187 
 
 forming a pyramid, is by an experiment of two flames of 
 different colours. There may also be very great difference 
 between the heat of flame in the heavenly bodies and in 
 ours. For the celestial flame expands freely and serenely, 
 as if in its own medium, ours, as if pent up in another, 
 blazes and rages. For all fire hedged about and impri¬ 
 soned becomes fiercer. In fact the rays of the fires of 
 heaven themselves, after reaching denser and more impene¬ 
 trable bodies, lose their mild quality and become more 
 scorching. Wherefore Aristotle ought not to have appre¬ 
 hended Heraclitus’s conflagration for his sphere, even al¬ 
 though he had determined that the stars were real fires. 
 This question then may also be entertained subject to this 
 explanation. 
 
 Another question follows, Whether the stars are kept 
 alive by due sustentation ? and also, whether they are in¬ 
 creased, lessened, generated, extinguished ? and in fact 
 one of the ancients supposed, from some vulgar observa¬ 
 tion, that the stars were nourished as fire is, and fed upon 
 the waters, the sea, and the moisture of the earth, and were 
 sustained by their evaporations and exhalations, a notion 
 which seems unworthy to supply matter for any inquiry. 
 For such vapours fall far on this side the height of the 
 stars. Nor is there such a quantity of them as to supply 
 the waters and the land by rains and dews, and besides 
 suffice for repairing so many and so great heavenly orbs, 
 especially as it is evident that the earth and ocean have 
 not suffered diminution in the quantity of liquid for many 
 ages, so that it seems a necessary conclusion that as much 
 is replaced as is absorbed. Nor is the mode of supply so suit¬ 
 able for the heavenly bodies as it is for our fire. For where 
 something perishes and is subtracted, there too something 
 is taken up and assimilated. This species of assimila¬ 
 tion resembles the tartarizations of salts, and derives its 
 source from the contiguity all round it of opposite or dissi¬ 
 milar substances. But in the consubstantial and interior 
 body of the stars nothing of the kind happens, no more 
 than in the bowels of the earth, but they preserve their 
 substance by the law of identity, not assimilation. But 
 with respect to the exterior surface of the starry bodies the 
 question is properly enough proposed ; whether they re¬ 
 main in one and the same state, or steal from and even 
 taint the surrounding ether ? And in this sense we may 
 inquire also respecting the aliment of the stars. 
 
 But it is proper here to subjoin the question with respect 
 
188 
 
 ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 to the increase and lessening of the stars as bodies, though 
 the phenomena which may occasion uncertainty on the 
 subject are very few. 
 
 For first of all, no instance, or any analogous facts in 
 human experience favour the inquiry; since our globe of 
 earth and water does not seem subject in its mass to any 
 conspicuous augmentation or diminution, but preserves its 
 bulk and quantity. But, it may be said, the stars appear 
 to our view sometimes of larger, sometimes of smaller size. 
 This is true, but that larger or smaller dimension of a star 
 is ascribable either to its proximity or remoteness; or in their 
 apogees and perigees, in the case of the planets; or to the 
 constitution of the medium of vision. So far as this arises 
 from the constitution of the medium, it is easily discrimi¬ 
 nated, because that changes not the appearance of one star 
 in particular, but of all equally: as happens on winter nights 
 in a keen frost, when the stars appear of increased magni¬ 
 tude, because the vapours of the earth both mount in less 
 quantity and are dissipated more powerfully, and the whole 
 body of the atmosphere is to a certain degree condensed, 
 and approaches an aqueous or chrystalline character, which 
 exhibits objects in increased dimension. But if it were 
 some particular intervention of vapours between our vision 
 and some given star, magnifying the appearance of the 
 star (which we frequently and plainly see happening in the 
 case of the sun, and moon, and other heavenly bodies), 
 that appearance can neither impose upon us in itself, nor 
 does the star follow and move with the body of the vapour, 
 but is quickly extricated from it, and resumes its usual 
 appearance. But though these things are so, yet since 
 both formerly, in ancient times, and now also in our own 
 age, a great change, much noted and celebrated, has taken 
 place in the star Venus, in its magnitude, colour, and even 
 figure; and since a change which always and regularly 
 attends a given star, and is seen to move about with its 
 body, ought to be considered as necessarily existing in the 
 star itself, and not in the medium of vision; and since, 
 in consequence of the neglect of observations, many re¬ 
 markable phenomena, which take place in heaven arep>assed 
 by unheeded) and are lost to us :—we think it right to enter¬ 
 tain this second branch of our question. 
 
 Of the same kind is another part of our inquiry, whether, 
 during the long lapse of ages, stars are produced and de¬ 
 composed ? not but that the multitude of facts which invite 
 this question is more copious and sufficient, than on that 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 189 
 
 of their increase, though they be only of one kind. For as 
 respects the ancient stars, no one in the memory of all ages 
 has remarked the rise of any of them (except what the 
 ancient Arcadians fabled about the moon), and none of 
 them has been missed: whereas, with respect to those 
 which are regarded as comets, but of a stellar form and 
 motion, and in fact as new stars, we have both witnessed, 
 and learned from the ancients, their appearances, and dis¬ 
 appearances : while to some they seemed, in the latter, to 
 waste away; to others, to be taken up (as if they had de¬ 
 scended towards us in their circuits, and afterwards returned 
 to the higher regions); to others, to be gradually rarified 
 and dissipated in ether. But the whole of our inquiry 
 respecting the new stars we refer to that place in which 
 we speak of comets. 
 
 Another question remains, that with respect to the ga¬ 
 laxy, whether the galaxy be a collection of the smallest of 
 the stars, or a combined body and region of the ether of 
 an intermediate substance between that of the ether and 
 the stars. For that theory about exhalations has itself 
 now long exhaled, not without fixing a brand on Aristotle’s 
 genius, who had the audacity to put forth such a figment, 
 fastening upon a thing so invariable and fixed an evanes¬ 
 cent and fluctuating character. But an end of this ques¬ 
 tion as proposed by us seems to be easily attainable, if we 
 are to give credit to the accounts of Galileo, who has ar¬ 
 ranged that confused luminous appearance into numbered 
 and mapped constellations. For that the galaxy does not 
 prevent the visibility of those stars which are found within 
 its limits, is not enough to settle the question, nor to incline 
 the matter either way. It only refutes, perhaps, the notion 
 that the galaxy is placed lower than the part of ether con¬ 
 taining the stars; for if this were the case, and the conti¬ 
 nuous body had also some depth of itself, it is consistent 
 with reason to suppose that our vision would be prevented. 
 And if it were placed at the same altitude as the stars 
 which are visible in it, there is no reason why stars should 
 not be scattered about in the galaxy itself, not less than in 
 the rest of the ether. Thus we have treated of this ques¬ 
 tion. These six questions then refer to the substance of 
 the heavenly bodies; what, namely, is the substance of 
 heaven in general, what of the interstellar air, what of the 
 galaxy, and what of the stars themselves, whether com¬ 
 pared with one another, or with our fire, or with their own 
 essence ? 
 

 
 190 _ ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 
 
 
 But with respect to the number, magnitude, configura¬ 
 tion, and remoteness of the stars, with the exception of the 
 phenomena and historical inquiries, of which we shall 
 speak by and by, the problems which philosophy offers are 
 generally simple. With respect to their number, too, there 
 follows another question: whether that be the true number 
 of the stars which is visible, and which has been set down 
 and described by the labours of Hipparchus, and comprised 
 within the plan.of the celestial globe. For it is but a barren 
 reason which is assigned for the incalculable number of 
 stars, usually hid, and as it were imperceptible, which are com¬ 
 monly seen in winter, particularly in clear nights, namely, 
 that these appearances are not smaller stars, but emanations, 
 scintillm, and as it were darts emitted by known stars; 
 besides, there has been a new enumeration of the host of 
 heaven by Galileo, not only in that cohort which is dis¬ 
 tinguished by the name of the milky way, but also amidst 
 the stations and system of the planets. Now stars become 
 imperceptible either on account of the minuteness of their 
 size, or their opacity (the term tenuity we do not much 
 approve of, since pure flame is a body of the most subtle 
 tenuity), or on account of their remoteness and distance. 
 The question with respect to the superflux of stars, created 
 by the production of new ones, we refer to the part which 
 treats of comets. 
 
 As regards the magnitude of the stars, the visible mag¬ 
 nitude belongs to the general phenomena, the real to the 
 philosophical inquiry comprehended only in our twelfth 
 problem: What are the real dimensions of each star, 
 either discovered by measurement, or, if not, by compari¬ 
 son ? for it is easier to discover and demonstrate that the 
 globe of the moon is less than the globe of earth, than that 
 the globe of the moon is a mile round. We must then use 
 all trial and exertion to ascertain their exact dimensions; 
 if these cannot be had, we must make use of their com¬ 
 parative. 
 
 Now the magnitudes of the stars are either taken and 
 inferred from their eclipses and obscurations, or from the 
 bounds to which they extend their light, and the other 
 properties which each of these bodies, in proportion to 
 their magnitude, emit and propagate; or, lastly, by the 
 harmony of the universe, which confines and limits, by a 
 certain necessity, the parts of the homogeneous bodies. 
 For we must not rest upon the accounts given by astrono¬ 
 mers of the bare magnitude of the stars, (though they have 
 
ASTRONOMICAL HISTORY. 
 
 191 
 
 laboured in that attempt, seemingly with great and exact 
 minuteness, yet in reality with no little license and teme¬ 
 rity) ; but must seek, if any present themselves, proofs and 
 evidence more to be trusted to and more genuine. Now 
 the magnitude and distance of the stars reciprocally indi¬ 
 cate each other by the methods of optics: the roots of 
 which science, however, ought to be a little shaken. 
 
 The question of the true magnitude of the stars is the 
 twelfth in our enumeration: there follows another respect¬ 
 ing the form, whether they be globes, that is, masses of 
 matter of a solid round figure? Now there are apparently 
 three figures of the stars ; spherical and comose as the sun; 
 spherical and angular, as the stars, (the coma and angles 
 relate here only to aspect, the spherical form only to sub¬ 
 stance); spherical only, as the moon. For no star looks 
 oblong, or triangular, or square, or of any other figure than 
 the above. And it appears to be the order of nature that 
 the larger accumulations of things, for their own preserva¬ 
 tion and a truer union of parts, impact themselves into 
 globes. 
 
 The fourteenth question relates to distance: What is 
 the true distance of any star in the abyss of heaven ? For 
 the distances of the planets, both relatively to one another 
 and to the fixed stars, are consequent upon, or determined 
 by* their motions in the path they describe through the 
 heavens. But as we have said above concerning the mag¬ 
 nitude of the stars, if an exact and directly measured mag¬ 
 nitude cannot be had, we must have recourse to their com¬ 
 parative magnitudes :•—we give the same precept as to 
 their distance, that if the distance cannot be accurately 
 taken, (for instance, from the earth to Saturn and to Jupi¬ 
 ter), yet let it be set down at least as certain, that Saturn 
 is of greater altitude than Jupiter. For the system of the 
 heavens interiorly, that is, the common arrangement of the 
 planets with reference to their heights, is not unchallenged, 
 nor were the opinions that now obtain formerly believed. 
 There is even now a controversy respecting Mercury and 
 Venus, which of them is higher. The distances are found 
 either by their parallaxes, or their eclipses, or their modes 
 of motion, or the differences of their visible magnitude. 
 Other helps must also be obtained for this inquiry, which 
 man’s industry will suggest. The question, also, with re¬ 
 gard to the thickness or depth of the spheres, is connected 
 with these distances. 
 
 W. G. G. 
 
192 
 
 OF THE EBB AND FLOW OF THE SEA. 
 
 The investigation of the causes of the ebb and flow of the 
 sea, attempted by the ancients and then neglected, resumed 
 by the moderns, but rather frittered away than vigorously 
 agitated in a variety of opinions, is generally with a hasty 
 anticipation, directed to the moon, because of certain cor¬ 
 respondences between that motion, and the motion of that 
 orb. But to a careful inquirer certain traces of the truth 
 are apparent, which may lead to surer conclusions. Where¬ 
 fore, to proceed without confusion, we must first dis¬ 
 tinguish the motions of the sea, which, though thought¬ 
 lessly enough multiplied by some, are in reality found to 
 be only five; of these one alone is eccentric, the rest 
 regular. We may mention first the wandering and various 
 motions of what are called currents: the second is the 
 great six-hours motion of the sea, by which the waters 
 alternately advance to the shore, and retire twice a day, 
 not with exact precision, but with a variation, constituting 
 monthly periods. The third is the monthly motion itself, 
 which is nothing but a cycle of the diurnal motion periodi¬ 
 cally recurring: the fourth is the half monthly motion, 
 formed by the increase of the tides at new and full moon, 
 more than at half moon : the fifth is the motion, once in 
 six months, by which, at the equinoxes, the tides are in¬ 
 creased in a more marked and signal manner. 
 
 It is the second, the great six-hours or diurnal motion, 
 which we propose for the present as the principal subject 
 and aim of our discourse, treating of the others only in¬ 
 cidentally and so far as they contribute to the explanation 
 of that motion. 
 
 First then, as relates to the motion of currents, there is 
 no doubt that to form it the waters are either confined by 
 narrow passages, or liberated by open spaces, or hasten as 
 with relaxed rein, down declivities, or rush against and 
 ascend elevations, or glide along a smooth level bottom, or 
 are ruffled by furrows and irregularities in the channel, or 
 fall into other currents, or mix with them and become sub¬ 
 ject to the same influences, or are affected by the annual or 
 
EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 193 
 
 trade winds, which return at regular periods of the year. 
 That in consequence of these and similar causes, they 
 vary their states of flow and eddy, both as relates to 
 extending and widening the motion itself, and to the velo¬ 
 city and measure of the motion; and thus produce what 
 we term currents. Thus in the seas the depth of the basin 
 or channel, the occurrence of whirlpools or submarine 
 rocks, the curvature of the shore, gulfs, bays, the various 
 position of islands, and the like, have great effect, acting 
 powerfully on the waters, their paths, and agitations in all 
 possible directions, eastward and westward, and in like 
 manner northward and southward; wherever, in fact, such 
 obstacles, open spaces, and declivities exist in their res¬ 
 pective formations. Let us then set aside this particu¬ 
 lar, and, so to speak, casual motion of the waters, lest 
 it should introduce confusion in the inquisition which we 
 now pursue. For no one can raise and support a denial 
 of the statement which we are presently to make, concern¬ 
 ing the natural and catholic motions of the seas, by 
 opposing to it this motion of the currents, as not at all 
 consistent with our positions. For the currents are mere 
 compressions of the water, or extrications of it from com¬ 
 pression : and are, as we have said, partial, and relative to 
 the local form of the land or water, or the action of the 
 winds. And what we have said is the more necessary to 
 be recollected and carefully noted, because that universal 
 movement of the ocean of which we now treat is so gentle 
 and slight, as to be entirely overcome by the impulse of 
 the currents, to fall into their order, and to give way, be 
 agitated, and mastered by their violence. That this is 
 the case is manifest particularly from this fact, that the 
 motion of ebb and flow, simply, is not perceptible in mid 
 sea, especially in seas broad and vast, but only at the 
 shores. It is therefore not at all surprising that, as inferior 
 in force, it disappears, and is as it were annihilated amidst 
 the currents; except that where the currents are favourable, 
 it lends them some aid and impetuosity, and on the con¬ 
 trary where they are adverse considerably restrains them. 
 Waiving then the motion of the currents, we proceed to the 
 four regular motions; that in the six hours, in the month, 
 in the half month, and in six months, of which the sex- 
 horary motion alone seems to produce and develope the 
 ordinary tide, the monthly to determine that motion and 
 define its renewal; the half monthly and half yearly to in¬ 
 crease and strengthen it. For the ebb and flow which cover 
 VOL. xv. o 
 
194 
 
 EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 and quit again a certain extent of shore, both vary at various 
 hours, and according to the momentum and quantity of 
 the water; whence these three other motions are rendered 
 more perceptible. 
 
 We must therefore contemplate, singly and specifically, 
 as we purposed, the motion of ebb and flow. And first 
 it is necessary to grant that this motion, the subject of 
 inquiry, is one of these two: either the motion of an 
 elevation and depression , or the motion of a progression of 
 the waters. The motion of elevation and depression we 
 understand to be such as is found in boiling water, mount¬ 
 ing and subsiding alternately in a caldron: the motion of 
 progression to be such as is observed in water carried in a 
 basin, which quitting the one side, is projected to the oppo¬ 
 site. Now that the motion we treat of is not of the former 
 sort, is in the first place suggested by this fact, that in dif¬ 
 ferent parts of the world the tides vary according to the 
 times, so that in certain places there are floods and accu¬ 
 mulations of the mass of waters, in others at the same 
 hours ebbs and diminutions. Now the waters, if they did 
 not travel from place to place, but rose ebullient from 
 the bottom, ought to rise every where at once, and to 
 subside together. For we see those two other 'motions, 
 the monthly and half monthly, in full movement and 
 operation, at the same periods throughout the globe. For 
 the waves increase at the equinoxes in all parts, not in 
 certain places under the equator, or in others under the 
 tropics : and the same is true of the half monthly motion. 
 For every where over the world, the waters are elevated at 
 new moon and full moon, no where at half moon. The 
 waters therefore are manifestly raised, and again depressed 
 in these two motions, and like the heavenly bodies have 
 their apogees and perigees. But in the ebb and flow of 
 the sea, which we now discuss, the contrary takes place, an 
 unequivocal sign of progressive motion. Besides ere we 
 set down the flow of the sea as an elevation of the waters, 
 we ought to consider a little more carefully how that ele¬ 
 vation can take place. For the swelling must either be 
 produced by an augmentation of the mass of waters, or 
 from an extension or rarefaction of fluid in that mass, or 
 from simple elevation of the mass or body. The third sup¬ 
 position we must dismiss entirely. For if the water united 
 in the same body were lifted up, a vacuum would neces¬ 
 sarily be left between the earth and the under face of the 
 water, there being no body ready to succeed and supply 
 
EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 195 
 
 its place. If there were a fresh quantity of water added, 
 it must be by flowing and eruption from the earth. If 
 there were dilatation only, this must take place either by 
 solution into greater rarity, or by a tendency to approach 
 another body, which as it were evokes the waters, attracts 
 them, and lifts them to greater elevation. And, doubtless, 
 that state of the waters, whether considered as ebullition, 
 or rarefaction, or harmony with some one or other of the 
 heavenly bodies, cannot seem incredible, that is to a moderate 
 extent, and on the supposition of the lapse of considerable 
 time, in which such swellings and accretions may gather 
 and accumulate. Therefore the difference observable be¬ 
 tween the ordinary, and the half monthly tide, or the most 
 copious of all, the half yearly one, in which the addition to 
 the mass of waters, is not equal to the difference between 
 ordinary ebb and flow, and has besides a large interval of 
 time insensibly to form, may, on the hypothesis of eleva¬ 
 tion and depression , be consistently explained. But that 
 so great a mass of water should burst forth as to ex¬ 
 plain that difference which is found between the ebb and 
 flow, and that this should take place with such extreme 
 rapidity, namely, twice a day, as if the earth, according to 
 the fantastic notion of Apollonius, performed respiration, 
 and breathed waters every six hours, and then again in¬ 
 haled them, is very hard to believe. And let no man be 
 misled by the unimportant fact that in some places wells 
 are said to have a simultaneous motion with the ebb and 
 flow of the sea, whence one might conjecture, that waters 
 inclosed in the entrails of the earth boil up in like manner, 
 in which case that swelling of the waters cannot be attri¬ 
 buted to a progressive motion. For the answer is an easy 
 one, that the flow of the sea by its encroachment may per¬ 
 forate and gorge many hollow and loose places of the earth, 
 turn the course of subterraneous waters, or cause a rever¬ 
 beration of the inclosed air, which by a continued series of 
 impulsions may raise the water in this sort of wells. Ac¬ 
 cordingly this does not take place in all wells, nor even in 
 many, which ought to be the case if the entire mass of 
 waters had a property of periodically boiling up, and a 
 harmony with the tide. But on the contrary, this rarely 
 happens, so as to be regarded almost as a miracle, because 
 in fact such apertures and spiracles as reach from wells to 
 the sea, without circuity or impediment, are very rarely 
 found ; nor is it unimportant to mention, what some relate, 
 that in deep pits situated not far from the sea, the air be- 
 
196 
 
 EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 comes thick and suffocating at the time of ebb, from which 
 it may seem manifest, not that the waters boil up, (for 
 none are seen to do so), but that the air is reverberated. 
 No doubt there is another objection, not despicable but of 
 great weight, every way deserving of an answer, one which 
 has been the subject of careful observation, and that not 
 incidentally, but a thing specially and of purpose inquired 
 into and discovered, namely, that the waters at the opposite 
 shores of Europe and of Florida ebb at the same hours 
 from both shores, and do not quit the shore of Europe 
 when they roll to the shore of Florida, like water (as we 
 have said before) agitated in a basin, but are manifestly 
 raised and depressed at either shore at once. But a clear 
 solution of this objection will be seen in the observations 
 which shall presently be made about the path and pro¬ 
 gression of the ocean; the substance, however, is this; 
 that the waters, setting out in their course from the Indian 
 ocean, and obstructed by the remora of the continents of 
 the old and new world, are impelled along the Atlantic 
 from south to north; so that it is no wonder if they are 
 driven against either shore equally at the same time, as 
 waters are wont to be, which are propelled from the sea 
 into estuaries and up the channels of rivers, evidently 
 showing that the motion of the sea is progressive as respects 
 the rivers, and yet that it at once inundates both shores*. 
 Notwithstanding, according to our custom we freely con¬ 
 fess, and would have men observe and remember, that if it 
 is found in experience that the tide advances at the same 
 time on the coast of China and Peru, as on that of Europe 
 and Florida, this our opinion, that ebb and flow is a pro¬ 
 gressive motion of the sea, must be repudiated. 
 
 For if the flow of the sea takes place at the same time 
 at the opposite shores, as well of the Pacific or Southern 
 Ocean as of the Atlantic Ocean, there are not in the uni¬ 
 verse any shores remaining, at which a corresponding ebb, 
 at the same time, might afford a satisfactory solution of 
 the objection. But we propose with confidence of a trial 
 of this by experiment, to whose test we submit our cause: 
 for we are clearly of opinion, that were the general result 
 of a trial of this fact through the world known to us, this 
 compact of nature would be found effected on sufficiently 
 reciprocal conditions, namely, that at any given hour as 
 much reflux took place in some parts of the world as flow 
 in others. Therefore, from what we have stated, this mo¬ 
 tion of ebb and flow may be affirmed progressive. 
 
EBB AND FLOW., 
 
 197 
 
 Now follows the inquiry, from what cause and what 
 combination of things this motion of ebb and flow arises 
 and is presented to view. For all the great movements 
 (if these be regular and perpetual) are not isolated, or (to 
 use here an expression of the astronomers) ferine, but have 
 something in nature with which they move harmoniously. 
 Therefore those motions, as well the half monthly one of 
 increase as the monthly of reparation, appear to accord 
 with the motion of the moon; and again the half monthly, 
 or equinoctial, with the motion of the sun; also the eleva¬ 
 tions and depressions of the water, with the approximation 
 and revolution in the orbits of the heavenly bodies. Not¬ 
 withstanding, it will not immediately follow from this, and 
 we would have men note the observation, that those things 
 which agree in their periods and curriculum of time, or 
 even in their mode of relation, are of a nature subjected 
 the one to the other, and stand respectively as cause and 
 effect. Thus we do not go so far as to affirm, that the mo¬ 
 tions of the sun ought to be set down as the causes of the 
 inferior motions which are analogous to them; or that the 
 sun and moon (as is commonly said) have dominion over 
 these motions of the sea, although such notions are easily 
 insinuated into our minds from veneration of the heavenly 
 bodies; but in that very half monthly motion, if it be 
 rightly noted, it were a new and surprising kind of subjec¬ 
 tion to influence, that the tides at new and at full moon 
 should be affected in the same manner, when the moon 
 is affected in contrary ways; and many other things might 
 be instanced, destroying similar fancies of this sort of 
 dominant influence, and leading to this inference that those 
 correspondencies arise from the catholic affections of mat¬ 
 ter, from the primary concatenation of causes, and con¬ 
 nexion of things; not as if such were governed the one 
 by the other, but both flowed from the same sources and 
 from joint causes. Notwithstanding this, however, it 
 remains true, as we have said, that nature delights in 
 harmony, and scarcely admits of any thing isolated or soli¬ 
 tary. We must therefore look, in treating of the sexhorary 
 ebb and flow of the sea, with what other motions it is 
 found to agree and harmonize. And first we must in- 
 j quire with respect to the moon, in what manner that mo¬ 
 tion blends relations or natures with the moon. But this 
 we do not see prevail except in the monthly repairing of 
 the moon, for the periodical course of six hours has no 
 affinity with the monthly course; nor again are the tides 
 
198 
 
 EBJB AND FLOW. 
 
 found to follow any affections of the moon. For whether 
 the moon be crescent or waning, whether she be under the 
 earth or above the earth, whether her elevation above the 
 horizon be higher or lower, whether her position be in the 
 zenith or elsewhere, in none of these relations do the ebb 
 and flow of the tide correspond with her. 
 
 Therefore, leaving the moon, let us inquire concerning 
 other correspondencies; and from all the motions of the 
 heavenly bodies, it is certain that the diurnal motion is the 
 shortest, and is accomplished in the least period of time, 
 that is, in the space of twenty-four hours. It is therefore 
 in harmony with this, that the motion of which we inquire, 
 which is yet three times shorter than the diurnal one, 
 should be referred immediately to that motion which is the 
 shortest of the heavenly ones. But this notion has no 
 great weight with us in this matter. Another hypothesis 
 has more influence with us, that this motion is so distri¬ 
 buted that though the motion of the waters is slower by 
 innumerable degrees, still it is referable to a common 
 measure. For the space of six hours is a quarter of the 
 diurnal motion, which space (as we said) is found in that 
 motion of the sea with a difference coinciding with the 
 measure of the moon’s motion. Whereupon this belief 
 sinks deep into our mind, and looks as it were an oracular 
 truth, that this motion is of the same kind with the diurnal 
 motion. With this, therefore, as a basis, we shall proceed 
 to a thorough inquiry: and we think that the whole sub¬ 
 ject is exhausted in three points of investigation. 
 
 The first is, whether that diurnal motion is confined 
 within the regions of heaven, or descends, and penetrates 
 to the lower parts ? The second is, whether the seas move 
 regularly from east to west as the heaven does ? The third, 
 whence and how that six hours’ motion of the tides takes 
 place which coincides with a quarter of the diurnal motion, 
 with a difference falling in with the measure of the moon’s 
 motion. Now, as relates to the first inquiry, we think that 
 the motion of rotation, or of turning from east to west, is 
 not properly a motion merely of the heavenly bodies, but 
 manifestly of the universe, and a primary motion in all the 
 great fluids, found to prevail from the highest part of 
 heaven to the lowest part of the waters, in direction the 
 same in all, in impulse, that is, in rapidity and slowness, 
 widely different; in such wise, however, that in an order 
 not in the least confused, the rapidity is diminished in pro¬ 
 portion as the bodies approach the globe of the earth. 
 
EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 199 
 
 Now this, it seems, may be taken as a probable reason for 
 supposing that that motion is not limited to the heavens; 
 because it prevails and is in force through so great a depth 
 of heaven as lies between the starry heaven and the moon, 
 (a space much more extensive than that between the moon 
 and the earth), with a regular diminution; so that it is 
 probable that nature does not at any point abruptly break 
 off a harmonious motion of this kind, diffused through such 
 vast spheres and gradually lessening. And that this is 
 so in the heavenly bodies is evinced by two inconsistencies, 
 which follow from the opposite hypothesis. For since 
 the planets visibly perform a diurnal motion, unless we are 
 to suppose that motion natural and self-moved in all the 
 planets, we must unavoidably have recourse for an expla¬ 
 nation either to the supposition of the primum mobile, 
 which is evidently opposed to nature; or to the rotation of 
 the earth, which is a notion extravagant enough, if we look 
 to the methods of nature. Therefore the motion exists in 
 the heavenly bodies. And, quitting heaven, that motion is 
 most distinctly visible in the inferior comets; which, though 
 lower than the orb of the moon, evidently move from east 
 to west. For though they have their solitary and eccen¬ 
 tric motions, yet in performing them they for a time have 
 a common movement, and are borne along with the motion 
 of the ether, and with the same conversion: but in the 
 tropics they are not generally so confined, nor move in the 
 regular course, but sometimes straggle towards the poles, 
 yet nevertheless pursue their rotatory motion from east to 
 west. And thus this motion, though it suffers great dimi¬ 
 nution, since the nearer it descends towards earth the con¬ 
 version is performed in smaller circles, and more slowly, 
 still remains powerful, so as to traverse great distances 
 in a short time. For these comets are carried round the 
 whole circumference, both of the earth and the lower at¬ 
 mosphere, in the space of twenty-four hours, with an ex¬ 
 cess of one or two hours more. But after, by a continued 
 descent, it has reached these regions upon which the earth 
 acts, this motion, not only by the communication of the 
 earth’s nature and influence, which represses and lowers 
 circular motion, but also by a substantial immission of the 
 particles of its matter, by means of vapours and gross ex¬ 
 halations, becomes infinitely relaxed, and almost falls off, 
 yet it is not therefore wholly annihilated or ceases, but 
 remains feeble and verging to imperceptible. For mariners 
 now begin to confess that between the tropics, where, in 
 
200 
 
 EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 the open sea, the motion of the air is best perceived; and 
 where the air itself, as well as heaven, revolves in a larger 
 circle, and therefore more rapidly, that a perennial and 
 gentle breeze blows from east to west, insomuch that those 
 who wish to use the south west wind often seek and avail 
 themselves of it outside the tropics. Consequently this 
 motion is not extinguished, but becomes languid and ob¬ 
 scure, so as to be scarcely perceptible outside the tropics. 
 Yet even outside the tropics, in our own part of the globe, 
 Europe, at sea, in serene and peaceful weather, there is ob¬ 
 served a certain wind, which is of the same species; we 
 may even conjecture that what we experience here in Eu¬ 
 rope, where the east wind is sharp and dry, and, on the 
 contrary, the south west winds are cherishing and humid, 
 does not depend merely on the circumstance that the one 
 blows from a continent, the other from the ocean, but on 
 this, that the breath of the east wind, since it is in the 
 same train with the proper motion of the air, accelerates 
 and heightens that motion, and therefore disperses and 
 rarifies the air; but that of the west wind, which is in the 
 contrary direction to the motion of the air, makes it re¬ 
 bound upon itself, and become inspissated. Nor ought 
 this to be neglected, which is admitted into the number of 
 common observations, that the clouds which are in motion 
 in the upper part of the air generally move from east to 
 west; while the winds about the earth’s surface generally 
 blow at the same time the contrary way. And if they do 
 not this always, the reason is this; that there are some 
 times opposite winds, some acting on the high, others on 
 the lowest, exhalations. Now those blowing on high, if 
 they be adverse, confound the real motion of the air. It is 
 sufficiently clear, then, that the motion is not confined 
 within the limits of heaven. 
 
 Then follows in order the second inquisition : Whether 
 the waters move regularly from east to west. Now when 
 we speak of waters, we mean those accumulations or masses 
 of waters which are such large portions of nature as to 
 have a relation of harmony to the fabric and system of the 
 universe. And we are fully of opinion that the same motion 
 is natural to, and inherent in, the body of waters, but is 
 slower than in the air; though, on account of the grossness 
 of the body, it is more palpable and manifest. Of this we 
 shall content ourselves with three selected from many ex¬ 
 perimental proofs, but these weighty and marked ones, 
 which prove that this is so. 
 
EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 201 
 
 The first is that there is found a manifest motion and- 
 flow of waters from the Indian ocean, even to the Atlantic, 
 and that more swift and strong towards the Straits of Ma¬ 
 gellan, when an outlet is opened to them westwards ; and 
 a great current also on the other side of the world from the 
 northern ocean to the British sea. And these currents of 
 waters manifestly roll from east to west; in which fact we 
 must note in the first place, that in those two places alone 
 the seas find thoroughfares, and can describe in flowing a 
 complete circle : whereas, on the contrary, at the central 
 regions of the globe, by the two ramparts of the old and 
 new world, they are thrown olf and driven (as it were into 
 the estuaries of rivers) into the basins of the Atlantic and 
 Pacific, the two oceans extending between the south and 
 north, and open to the motion of a current from east to west. 
 So that the true course of the waters is most safely inferred 
 from the extremities of the globe, as we have stated, where 
 they meet with no impediment, but sweep round in full 
 circuit. And the first experiment is thus, the second is the 
 following. 
 
 Let us suppose that the tide takes place at the mouth of 
 the Straits of Gibraltar at any given hour: it is certain that 
 the tide sets in at Cape St. Vincent later in the day than 
 at the mouth of the Straits,—at Cape Finisterre later than 
 at Cape St.Vincent,—at King’s Island later than at Cape 
 Finisterre, — at the Island Heek later than at King’s 
 Island,—at the entrance of the English channel later 
 than at Heek,—at the shore of Normandy later than at 
 the entrance of the channel. Thus far in regular order : 
 but at Graveling, as if by an entire inversion of the order, 
 and that with a great leap as it were, at the same hour, 
 with a velocity like that which it has at the mouth of the 
 Straits of Gibraltar. This second observation we apply to, 
 and compare with, the first. For we think, as has already 
 | been said, that in the Indian and northern oceans the true 
 currents of the waters, that is from the east to the west, are 
 open and unimpeded, but in the channels of the Atlantic 
 and southern oceans imprisoned and crossing, and rever¬ 
 berated by the interposition of lands, which extend both 
 ways longitudinally from south to north ; and no where 
 but toward their extremities afford a free canal to the waters. 
 But that strong direction of the waters, which is caused by 
 the Indian ocean towards the north, and in the opposite 
 direction from the north sea towards the south, differ infi¬ 
 nitely in the extent of sea, affected on account of the diffe- 
 
202 
 
 EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 rent force and quantity of waters. But that this should 
 take place is unavoidable. For the two great islands of 
 the old and new world have the same figures, and are so 
 stretched out as to broaden to the north, and taper to the 
 south. The seas, therefore, on the contrary towards the 
 south occupy a vast space, but to the north a small one, at the 
 back of Asia, Africa, and America; consequently that great 
 mass of waters which is discharged from the Indian ocean, 
 and is refracted into the Atlantic, is capable of forcing or pro¬ 
 pelling the course of the waters in a continued movement 
 nearly to the British sea, which is a part of the line described 
 northwards. But that much smaller portion of the waters 
 which issues from the north sea, and which has also a free 
 passage westwards at the back of America, is not strong 
 enough to turn the course of the waters southwards, except 
 towards that point which we mentioned, namely, about the 
 British sea. Now, in these opposite currents, there must 
 be some goal where they meet and contend, and where 
 within short space the order of advance is suddenly changed, 
 as we have said occurs about Graveling—the focus of the 
 currents from the Indian and northern oceans, and that a 
 certain ocean stream is formed by opposite currents on the 
 coast of Holland has been noted by numbers, not only from 
 the inversion of the hour of the tide, which we have stated, 
 but also from the peculiar visible effect. Now if this is so, 
 we return to the position, that it must needs be that in pro¬ 
 portion, as the parts and shores of the Atlantic extend 
 southwards and approach the Indian sea, in the same pro¬ 
 portion the tide is prior, and early in the order of approach, 
 and in proportion as you go northwards (as far as their 
 common goal), where they are forced back by the antagonist 
 stream of the northern ocean, they are backward and 
 late. Now that this is the case, the observation of the 
 progression from the Straits of Gibraltar to the British sea 
 manifestly proves. Wherefore we think that the tide about 
 the shores of Africa is at an earlier hour than that of the 
 Straits of Gibraltar, and in reversed order the tide about 
 Norway earlier than the tide about Sweden—but this we 
 have not ascertained by experiment or testimony. 
 
 A third experiment is the following: The seas confined 
 by land on one side, which we call bays, if they stretch out 
 with any inclination from east to west, which is in the 
 same line of impetus with the true motion of the waters, 
 have heavy and powerful tides; but if in the opposite 
 direction, weak and scarcely perceptible. For the Red 
 
EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 203 
 
 Sea hath a considerable tide; and the Persian Gulf, with 
 a yet more entire westward direction, a still stronger. 
 But the Mediterranean, the greatest of all gulfs, and its 
 parts the Tuscan, Pontic, and Propontic Seas, and in like 
 manner the Baltic, all which tend eastward, are almost 
 destitute of tide, or have only languid ones. But this 
 difference is most conspicuous in certain parts of the 
 Mediterranean which so long as they tend eastwards or 
 turn towards the north, as in the Tuscan Sea and the 
 others we have mentioned, are pacific and without much 
 tide. But after getting a westerly direction, which takes 
 place in the Adriatic, it acquires a remarkably large tide. 
 To which we may also add this, that in the Mediterranean 
 the slight reflux which is found begins from the ocean, the 
 flow from the opposite direction, so that the water follows 
 rather a course from the east than the natural refluence of 
 the ocean. The three instances only we shall use for the 
 present, in reference to this second inquiry. 
 
 There may be added to these another species of proof 
 agreeing with those already advanced, but of a more diffi¬ 
 cult nature: it is this, that an argument may be sought for 
 proof of this motion from east to west, not only from the 
 consenting motion of the heavens of which we have already 
 spoken,—where this motion is, as it were, in full flower 
 and strength,—but also from the earth when it seems wholly 
 to cease: so that it is really a direction of the universe, and 
 pervades all things from the zenith to the interior parts of 
 the earth. Now we apprehend that this conversion takes 
 place from east to west (as in reality it is found to do), 
 upon the south and north poles. And Gilbertus has, with 
 great care and accuracy, accomplished for us this discovery, 
 that the whole earth and nature, so far as we call it terres¬ 
 trial, have an inclination or polarity, not softened down, but 
 rigid and, as Gilbertus himself calls it, robust, latent, but 
 betraying itself in many nice experiments towards the north 
 and south. And this observation we thus modify and cor¬ 
 rect, that this ought to be asserted only of the exterior for¬ 
 mation about the surface of the earth, and ought not to be 
 extended to the bowels of the earth, for that the earth is a 
 magnet was at one time conceived,-—a light imagination,— 
 for it cannot be that the inward parts of the earth resemble 
 any substance which the eye of man hath seen; since all 
 the substances among which we live are loosened, subdued, 
 or broken up by the sun and heavenly bodies, so that they 
 cannot possibly agree with those which have had their seat 
 
204 
 
 EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 in a place where the influence of the heavenly bodies does 
 not penetrate;—but, which is our present subject, the more 
 superficial crusts or formations of the earth appear to agree 
 with the conversions of the sun, air, and waters, as far as 
 solid and fixed bodies can agree with liquid and fluid, 
 that is, not that they move towards the poles, but are 
 pointed and turned towards the poles. For since every 
 revolving sphere, which has fixed poles, participates of the 
 nature of moveable and fixed; after, by its consistency or 
 self-determining nature, the rotatory force is bound up, 
 still the force and tendency to direct itself remains, is aug¬ 
 mented and gathered into one; so that direction and ver- 
 ticity to the poles in hard bodies is the same with the 
 revolution on their poles in fluids. 
 
 The third inquiry remains. Whence and how arises that 
 reciprocal action of the tides, once in six hours, which 
 coincides with a quarter of the diurnal motion, with that 
 difference to which we have adverted. To understand this, 
 let us suppose that the whole globe was covered with water, 
 as in the general deluge; we conceive the waters as form¬ 
 ing a complete and unbroken globe, would always roll in a 
 progression from east to west each day to a certain extent: 
 not certainly a great space, on account of the remission 
 and debilitation of that motion as it approaches the earth; 
 seeing the waters were no where obstructed or confined. 
 Let us suppose again, that the whole land was an island, 
 and that it extended longitudinally between south and north, 
 which conformation and position most restrain and ob¬ 
 struct the motion from east to west; we think that the 
 waters would keep on in their direct and natural course for 
 a certain time, but, reverberated by the shores of that island, 
 would roll back in equal intervals, that there would be, 
 therefore, only one influx of the sea a day, and in like 
 manner only one reflux, and that to each of these about 
 twelve hours would be apportioned. And let us now sup¬ 
 pose what is true and matter of fact, that the land is divided 
 into two islands, those, namely, of the new and old world; 
 for Australia, by its position, does not much alter the effect, 
 as neither does Greenland nor Nova Zembla, and that 
 these two islands extend through nearly three zones of the 
 world, between which two oceans, the Atlantic and Southern, 
 flow, and these nowhere find a thoroughfare, except towards 
 the Poles; we think it necessarily follows, that these two 
 ramparts impart and communicate the character of double 
 
 reaction to the entire mass of waters. Whence arises that 
 
 / 
 
EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 205 
 
 motion in the quarter of a day,-—-so that the waters being 
 cooped in on both sides, the ebb and flow of the sea would 
 become visible twice a day, since there is a double advance 
 and also a double recoil. Now if these two islands were 
 extended through the waters like cylinders or columns, of 
 equal dimensions, and with rectilinear shores, that mo¬ 
 tion might be easily perceptible, and might be pointed out to 
 any one, which now seems to be perplexed and obscured by 
 so great a variety of position of land and sea. For it is not 
 difficult to form some conjecture what degree of velocity it 
 is proper to ascribe to that motion of the waters, and what 
 distances it may describe in one day. For if there be 
 selected, in order to form a judgment of this matter, some 
 of those coasts which are less mountainous or low lying, 
 and which are contiguous to the open sea, and then the 
 measure of the space of the globe interjacent between the 
 extreme points of the flux and reflux, and that space be 
 quadrupled on account of the four movements of the tide 
 each day, and that number again doubled on account of the 
 tides at the opposite shores of the same ocean; and to this 
 number there be something added over and above on ac- 
 count of the height of the shores which always rise to a 
 certain elevation above the channel of the sea; that calcu¬ 
 lation will give the space which this sphere of water, were it 
 free from obstruction, and moving in progression round the 
 enveloped globe of earth, would describe in one day, which 
 certainly would not be great. 
 
 Now, with respect to that difference which coincides 
 with the measure of the moon’s motion, and forms the 
 period of a lunar month; we think that the explanation is 
 this, that the period of six hours is not the exact measure 
 of this reaction, just as the diurnal motion of any of the 
 planets is not accomplished in twenty-four hours precisely, 
 and least of all that of the moon. Wherefore the measure 
 of the ebb and flow of the tide is not a quarter of the 
 motion of the fixed stars, which is twenty-four hours, but 
 a quarter of the diurnal motion of the moon. 
 
 DIRECTIONS. 
 
 Let it be inquired, whether the hour of the tide on the 
 coast of Africa be before the hour of tide about the Straits 
 of Gibraltar. Let it be inquired whether the hour of the 
 tide about Norway is before the hour of the tide about 
 Sweden, and that, in like manner, before the hour of the 
 tide at Graveling? 
 
 O 
 
206 
 
 EBB AND FLOW. 
 
 Let it be inquired, whether the hour of the tide on the 
 coast of Brazil be before the hour of the tide on the coast 
 of New Spain and Florida? 
 
 Let it be inquired, whether the hour of the tide at the 
 shores of China is not found nearly the same with the hour 
 of tide on the coast of Peru, and with the hour of reflux 
 on the coast of Africa and Florida? 
 
 Let it be inquired, how far the hour of tide on the coast 
 of Peru differs from the hour of tide at the coast of New 
 Spain; and particularly what are the differences of the hour 
 of tide at either shore of the Isthmus of Darien, in America ; 
 again, how far the hour of tide on the coast of Peru corres¬ 
 ponds with the hour of tide on the coast of China ? 
 
 Let it be inquired respecting the largeness of the tides 
 on different coasts, not merely respecting their periods or 
 hours. For although the largeness of tides is generally 
 caused by the depressions of the shores, yet notwithstand¬ 
 ing they are closely connected with the true principle of the 
 motion of the sea, according as it is favourable or adverse. 
 
 Let inquiry be made with respect to the Caspian sea, 
 which is formed by considerable bodies of water locked up 
 without any outlet, into the ocean, if they are subject to 
 ebb and flow, and what? our conjecture being that the 
 waters of the Caspian Sea may have one tide a day, not 
 two, and such that the eastern shores of it are deserted by 
 the sea, while the western are overflowed. 
 
 And let inquiry be made, whether the increase of the 
 tide at new and full moons and at the equinoxes, takes 
 place at the same time in different parts of the world (and 
 when we say at the same time, we do not mean at the same 
 hour, for the hours vary, according to the rapidity of the 
 waters’ motion towards the shores as w£ have said), but in 
 the same day. 
 
 Limits. The inquiry is not extended to a full explana¬ 
 tion of the harmony of the monthly motion of the sea with 
 the moon’s motion, whether that takes place from a subor¬ 
 dinate or a joint cause. 
 
 Relations. The present inquiry is connected with the 
 inquiry whether the earth revolves with the diurnal motion 
 of the heavens. For if the tide is, so to speak, the last 
 stage of the gradual diminution of the diurnal motion, it 
 will follow that the globe of the earth is immoveable, or at 
 least that its motion is slower by far than that of the waters. 
 
 W. G. G. 
 
 i 
 
207 
 
 TRANSLATION OF THE ABECEDARIUM NATURE, 
 BY ARCHBISHOP TENNISON. 
 
 PUBLISHED IN THE BACONIANA, 1679. 
 
 THE SAME IN ENGLISH BY THE PUBLISHER. 
 
 A Fragment of a Book written by the Ford Vendam , and 
 entituled, The Alphabet of Nature. 
 
 Seeing so many things are produced by the earth and 
 waters; so many things pass through the air, and are re¬ 
 ceived by it; so many things are changed and dissolved 
 by fire; other inquisitions would be less perspicuous, 
 unless the nature of those masses which so often occur, 
 were well known and explained. To these we add inqui¬ 
 sitions concerning celestial bodies, and meteors, seeing 
 they are some of greater masses, and of the number of 
 Catholic bodies.* 
 
 Greater Masses. 
 
 The sixty-seventh inquisition. The threefold Tau, or 
 concerning the earth. 
 
 The sixty-eighth inquisition. The threefold Upsilon, 
 or concerning the water. 
 
 The sixty-ninth inquisition. The threefold Phi, or con¬ 
 cerning the air. 
 
 The seventieth inquisition. The threefold Chi, or con¬ 
 cerning the fire. 
 
 The seventy-first inquisition. The threefold Psi, or 
 concerning celestial bodies. 
 
 The seventy-second inquisition. The threefold Omega, 
 or concerning meteors. 
 
 Conditions of Entities. 
 
 There yet remain, as subjects of our inquiry, in our al¬ 
 phabet, the conditions of beings, which seem, as it were, 
 transcendentals, and such as touch very little of the body 
 of nature. Yet by that manner of inquisition which we 
 use, they will considerably illustrate the other objects. 
 
 * See the distribution, in 1. 2. c. 3. de Augm. Scient, p. 234, 135, 136. 
 Ed. Lugd. Bat. 1. 3, c. 4, p. 231. And c. 4. Globi Intellect, p. 88, 89. 
 
208 
 
 ALPHABET OF NATURE. 
 
 First; therefore seeing (as Democritus excellently ob¬ 
 served) the nature of things is in the plenty of matter, and 
 variety of individuals large, and (as he affirmeth) infinite; 
 but in its coitions and species so finite, that it may seem 
 narrow and poor; seeing so few species are found, either in 
 actual being or impossibility, that they scarce make up a 
 muster of a thousand; and seeing negatives subjoined to 
 affirmatives, conduce much to the information of the un¬ 
 derstanding : it is tit that an inquisition be made concern¬ 
 ing being, and not being. That is the seventy-third in 
 order, and reckoned the fourfold Alpha. 
 
 Conditions of beings. The fourfold Alpha; or, concern¬ 
 ing being, and not being. 
 
 Now possible and impossible, are nothing else but condi¬ 
 tions potential to being, or not potential to being. Of 
 this the seventy-fourth inquisition consists, and is accounted 
 the fourfold Beta. 
 
 Conditions of beings. The fourfold Beta; or concerning 
 possible and impossible. 
 
 Also, much, little; rare, ordinary; are conditions poten¬ 
 tial to being in quantity. Of them let the seventy-fifth 
 inquisition consist, and be accounted the fourfold Gamma. 
 
 Conditions of beings. The fourfold Gamma; or, con¬ 
 cerning much and little. 
 
 Durable and transitory, eternal and momentary, are po¬ 
 tential to being in duration. Of these let the seventy-sixth 
 inquisition consist, and be called the fourfold Delta. 
 
 Conditions of beings. The fourfold Delta; or, concern¬ 
 ing durable and transitory. 
 
 Natural and monstrous, are potential to being, either by 
 the course of nature, or by its deviations from it. Of these 
 let the seventy-seventh inquisition consist, which is ac¬ 
 counted the fourfold Epsilon. 
 
 Conditions of beings. The fourfold Epsilon ; or, concern¬ 
 ing what is natural or monstrous. 
 
 Natural and artificial, are potential to being, either with 
 or without the operation of man. Of these let the seventy- 
 eighth inquisition consist, and be accounted the fourfold 
 Zeta, 
 
 Conditions of beings. The fourfold Zeta; or, of that 
 which is natural and artificial. 
 
 We have not subjoined examples in the explication of 
 the order of this our alphabet: for the inquisitions them¬ 
 selves contain the whole array of examples. 
 
 It is by no means intended, that the titles, according to 
 
209 
 
 ALPHABET OF NATURE. 
 
 which the order of this alphabet is disposed, should have 
 so much authority given to them, as to be taken for true 
 and fixed partitions of things. That were to profess we 
 already knew the things after which we inquire; for no 
 man does truly dispose of things into their several classes, 
 who does not beforehand very well understand the nature 
 of them. It is sufficient, if these titles be conveniently 
 adapted to the order of inquiry; the thing which is at 
 present designed. 
 
 The Rule , or Form of the Alphabet. 
 
 After this manner we compose and dispose our alphabet. 
 
 We begin solely with history and experiments. These 
 if they exhibit an enumeration and series of particular 
 things, are disposed into tables; otherwise they are taken 
 separately, and by themselves. 
 
 But seeing we are often at a loss for history and experi¬ 
 ments, especially such as are luciferous, or instructive, 
 and, as we call them, instances of the cross; # by which 
 the understanding might be helped in the knowledge of 
 the true causes of things: we propose the task of making 
 new experiments. These may serve as an history in de¬ 
 sign. For what else is to be done by us who are but 
 breaking the ice ? 
 
 For the mode of any more abstruse experiment, we ex¬ 
 plain it, lest any mistake arise about it; and to the intent 
 also that we may excite others to excogitate better me¬ 
 thods. 
 
 Also we interspect certain admonitions and cautions 
 concerning such fallacies of things, and errors in invention, 
 as we meet with in our way. 
 
 We subjoin our observations upon history and expe¬ 
 riments, that the interpretation of nature may be the more 
 in readiness and at hand. 
 
 Likewise we lay down canons (but not such as are fixed 
 and determined) and axioms which are, as it were, in 
 embryo: Such as offer themselves to us in the quality of 
 inquirers, and not of judges. Such canons and axioms 
 are profitable, though they appear not yet manifest, and 
 upon all accounts true. 
 
 * See Nov. Organ. 1. 2. Aph. 36. 
 
 P 
 
 VOL. XV. 
 
210 
 
 ALPHABET OF NATURE. 
 
 Lastly ; we meditate sometimes certain Essays of inter¬ 
 pretation, though such as are low and of small advance, 
 and by no means to be honoured (in our opinion) with the 
 very name of interpretation. 
 
 For what need have we of arrogance or imposture, seeing 
 we have so often professed, that we have not such a supply 
 of history and experiments as is needful; and that without 
 these, the interpretation of nature cannot be brought to per¬ 
 fection. Wherefore it is enough for us, if we are not want¬ 
 ing to the beginning of things. 
 
 Now for the sake of perspicuity and order, we prepare 
 our way by avenues, which are a kind of prefaces to our 
 inquisitions. Likewise we interpose bonds of connexion, 
 that our inquisitions may not seem abrupt and disjointed. 
 
 Also we suggest for use some hints of practice. Fur¬ 
 thermore, we propose wishes of such things as are hitherto 
 only desired and not had, together with those things which 
 border on them, for the exciting the industry of man’s 
 mind. 
 
 Neither are we ignorant, that those inquisitions are 
 sometimes mutually entangled; so that some things of 
 which we inquire, even the same things belong to several 
 titles. But we will observe such measure, that (as far as 
 may be) we may shun both the nauseousness of repetition, 
 and the trouble of rejection, submitting notwithstanding to 
 either of these, when in an argument so obscure, there is 
 necessity of so doing, in order to the more intelligible 
 teaching of it. 
 
 This is the form and rule of our alphabet. 
 
 May God, the creator, preserver, and renewer of the uni¬ 
 verse, protect and govern this work, both in its ascent to 
 his glory, and in its descent to the good of mankind, for the 
 sake of his mercy and good will to men, through his only 
 Son, Immanuel, God with us. 
 
211 
 
 TRANSLATION OF CATALOGUE OF BODIES, 
 
 ATTRACTIVE AND NOT ATTRACTIVE. 
 
 BY ARCHBISHOP TENNISON. 
 
 PUBLISHED IN THE BACONIAN A, 1678 . 
 
 If there be made a turn-pin of any metal, after the fashion 
 of a magnetic needle, and amber be applied to one end of 
 it, after having been gently rubbed, the pin will turn. 
 
 Amber heated by the fire, be it warmish, hot, or set on 
 fire, it does not draw. 
 
 A little bar of iron red hot, flame, a lighted candle, a hot 
 coal, put nigh sheaves (or straws) or turn-pins (or compass 
 needles) do not draw. 
 
 Amber, in a greater mass, if it be polite, draws, though 
 not rubbed: in a lesser quantity, and in a less polite mass, 
 it draws not without rubbing. 
 
 Crystal, lapis specularis, glass, and other such electric 
 bodies, if burnt, or scorched, draw not. 
 
 Pitch, the softer rosin, benjoin, asphaltum, camphire, 
 galbanum, ammoniac, storax, assa, these draw not at all 
 when the air is hot: but when it is cooler, they draw r 
 weakly, and so that we can just perceive them to do so. 
 
 Reeking air, blown up amber, &c. from the mouth, or 
 from a moister atmosphere ; choaketh the attractive virtue. 
 
 If a paper, or a piece of linen, be put between amber and 
 chaff, there is no motion, or attraction made. 
 
 Amber, or other electrics, warmed by the sun-beams, 
 have not their attractive virtue so awakened, as by rub¬ 
 bing. 
 
 Amber rubbed, and exposed to the beams of the sun, re¬ 
 tains its attractive force the longer; and does not so soon 
 lose it, as it would do in the shadow. 
 
 Heat derived from a burning-olass to amber, &c. does 
 not help its attraction. 
 
 Sulphur, and hard wax, set on fire, do not draw. 
 
 i 
 
212 
 
 CATALOGUE OF EODIES. 
 
 Amber, when immediately after rubbing, it is applied to 
 a shiver, or a compass needle, draws best of all. 
 
 The electric virtue is as vigorous, for a time, in its reten¬ 
 tion, as it was in its first attraction. 
 
 Flame (amber being put within the sphere of its activity) 
 is not drawn by it. 
 
 A drop of water, amber being applied towards it, is 
 drawn into a cone. 
 
 If electric bodies be rubbed too hard, their attraction is 
 thereby hindered. 
 
 - Those bodies, which in a clear sky do scarce draw, in a 
 thick air move not at all. 
 
 Water put upon amber choaketh its attractive force, 
 though it draweth the water itself. 
 
 Fat # so encompassing amber, that it toucheth it, takes 
 away its attraction ; but being so put betwixt it and the 
 object to be drawn, as not to touch it, it doth not take it 
 away. 
 
 Oil put upon amber, hinders not its motion: neither 
 doth amber, rubbed with the finger moistened with oil, 
 lose its attractive virtue. 
 
 Amber, jeats, and the like, do more strongly excite, and 
 longer retain the objects they draw, although the rubbing 
 be but little. But diamonds, chrystal, glass, ought to be 
 rubbed longer, that they may appear hot, ere they be used 
 for attraction. 
 
 Flames nigh to amber, though the distance be very small, 
 are not drawn by it. 
 
 Amber, &c. draw the smoke of a lamp newly extin¬ 
 guished. 
 
 Amber draws smoke more strongly when it comes forth, 
 and is more gross; and more weakly, when it ascends and 
 becomes thinner. 
 
 A body drawn by electric bodies, is not manifestly al¬ 
 tered, but only leans itself upon them. 
 
 * For by Sarea, I suppose, he meaneth Sarcia. 
 
218 
 
 TRANSLATION OF ORNAMENTA RATIONALIA. 
 
 A supply (by the publisher) of certain weighty and elegant sentences, some 
 made, others collected, by the Lord Bacon; and by him put under the 
 abovesaid title; and at present not to be found. 
 
 A Collection of Sentences out of the Mimi of Publius ; 
 Englished by the Publisher . 
 
 1. Aleator, quanto in arte est melior, tantd est nequior. 
 A gamester, the greater master he is in his art, the worse 
 
 man he is. 
 
 2. Arcum, intensio frangit; animum, remissio. 
 
 Much bending breaks the bow; much unbending, the 
 mind. 
 
 3. Bis vincit, qui se vincit in victoria. 
 
 He conquers twice, who upon victory overcomes himself. 
 
 4. Cum vitia prosint, peccat, qui recte facit. 
 
 If vices were upon the whole matter profitable, the vir¬ 
 tuous man would be the sinner. 
 
 5. Bene dormit, qui non sentit, quod male dormiat. 
 
 He sleeps well, who feels not that he sleeps ill. 
 
 6. Deliberare utilia, mora est tutissima. 
 
 To deliberate about useful things, is the safest delay. 
 
 7. Dolor decrescit, ubi quo crescat non habet. 
 
 The flood of grief decreaseth, when it can swell no higher. 
 
 8. Etiam innocentes cogit mentiri dolor. 
 
 Pain makes even the innocent man a liar. 
 
 9. Etiam celeritas in desiderio, mora est. 
 
 Even in desire, swiftness itself is delay. 
 
 10. Etiam capillus unus habet umbram suam. 
 
 The smallest hair casts a shadow. 
 
 11. Fidem qui perdit, quo se servat in reliquum? 
 
 He that has lost his faith, what has he left to live on ? 
 
 12. Formosa facies muta commendatio est. 
 
 A beautiful face is a silent commendation. 
 
 13. Fortuna nimium quem fovet, stultum facit. 
 
 Fortune makes him a fool, whom she makes her darling. 
 
 14. Fortuna obesse nulli contenta est semel. 
 
 Fortune is not content to do a man but one ill turn. 
 
214 
 
 ORNAMENTA RATIONALIA. 
 
 15. Facit gratum fortuna, quam nemo videt. 
 
 The fortune which nobody sees, makes a man happy and 
 unenvied. 
 
 16. Heu ! quam miserum est ab illo laedi, de quo non 
 possis queri. 
 
 O ! what a miserable thing it is to be hurt by such a 
 one of whom it is in vain to complain. 
 
 17. Homo toties moritur quoties amittit suos. 
 
 A man dies as often as he loses his friends. 
 
 18. Haeredis fletus, sub persona risus est. 
 
 The tears of an heir are laughter under a vizard. 
 
 19. Jucundum nihil est, nisi quod reficit varietas. 
 Nothing is pleasant, to which variety does not give a 
 
 relish. 
 
 20. Invidiam ferre, aut fortis, aut fcelix potest. 
 
 He may bear envy, who is either courageous or happy. 
 
 21. In malis sperare bonum, nisi innocens, nemo potest. 
 None but a virtuous man can hope well in ill circum¬ 
 stances. 
 
 22. In vindicando, criminosa est celeritas. 
 
 In taking revenge, the very haste we make is criminal. 
 
 23. In calamitoso risus etiam injuria est. 
 
 When men are in calamity, if we do but laugh we offend. 
 
 24. Improbe Neptunum accusat, qui iterum Naufragium 
 facit. 
 
 He accuseth Neptune unjustly, who makes shipwreck a 
 second time. 
 
 25. Multis minatur, qui uni facit injuriam. 
 
 He that injures one, threatens a hundred. 
 
 26. Mora omnis ingrata est, sed facit sapientiam. 
 
 All delay is ungrateful, but we are not wise without it. 
 
 27. Mori est foelicis antequam mortem invocet. 
 
 Happy he who dies ere he calls for death to take him 
 
 away. 
 
 28. Malus ubi bonum se simulat, tunc est pessimus. 
 
 An ill man is always ill; but he is then worst of all when 
 
 he pretends to be a saint. 
 
 29. Magno cum periculo custoditur, quod multis placet. 
 Lock and key will scarce keep that secure, which pleases 
 
 every body. 
 
 30. Male vivunt qui se semper victuros putant. 
 
 They think ill who think of living always. 
 
 31. Male secum agit aeger, medicum qui haeredem facit. 
 That sick man does ill for himself, who makes his phy¬ 
 sician his heir. 
 
 
 
 
 
ORNAMENTA RATIONALIA. 
 
 215 
 
 32. Multis timere debet, quem multi timent. 
 
 He of whom many are afraid, ought himself to fear 
 many. 
 
 33. Nulla tam bona est fortuna, de qua nil possis queri. 
 
 There is no fortune so good but it bates an ace. 
 
 34. Pars beneficii est, quod petitur, si bene neges» 
 
 It is part of the gift, if you deny genteelly what is asked 
 of you. 
 
 35. Timidus vocat se cautum, parcum sordidus. 
 
 The coward calls himself a wary man, and the miser says 
 he is frugal. 
 
 36. O vita! misero longa, felici brevis. 
 
 INQUISITION OF THE CONVERSIONS 
 
 OF BODIES. 
 
 TRANSLATED BY A. BLAIR, ESQ. 1830. 
 
 Inquisition of the Conversions , Transmutations, Multiplica¬ 
 tions, and Productions of Bodies . 
 
 Earth, by fire, is converted into bricks, which are of the 
 nature of stones, and which we use for building, like stones. 
 So with tiles. 
 
 Naphtha, which was that bituminous cement, wherewith 
 the walls of Babylon were built, by time acquires exceed¬ 
 ingly great hardness and firmness, equal to stone. 
 
 In clayey lands, where are pebbles and gravel, you shall 
 find huge stones, concreted of pebbles and gravel, with 
 stony matter interposed, as hard, or truly harder, than the 
 pebbles themselves. 
 
 There are certain springs of water, wherein if you im* 
 merse wood, it shall be turned into the nature of stone; so 
 as that the part sunk in the water shall become stone, the 
 part above the water shall remain wood. 
 
 The viscous matter about the kidneys and bladder, in the 
 human body, is converted into a pebble or stony matter. 
 A stone, also, is often found in the gall-bladder; and some*- 
 times, but this is most rare, in the vena porta. 
 
216 
 
 INQUISITION OF BODIES. 
 
 Quaere, how much time is required, that the matter of 
 earth, in stone-quarries, may be converted into the stony 
 nature ? 
 
 Water, as there is reason to think, is changed into 
 crystal; which may be seen in many caverns, where the 
 crystal hangs in drops. 
 
 You may have an experiment of wood, or the stalks of 
 plants, buried in quicksilver, whether they will harden, and, 
 as it were, petrify, or no. 
 
 Report has much prevailed of a stone, bred in the head 
 of an old and great toad. 
 
 It is related, that a certain nobleman, digging in the bed 
 of his pool, found an egg turned into stone, the white and 
 yolk retaining their proper colour; but the shell brightly 
 sparkling, like a diamond exquisitely cut in faces. 
 
 Make experiment of some bodies, let down near to the 
 bottom of a well, as wood, or other softer substances; but 
 let them not touch the water, lest they rot. 
 
 They say that the white of an egg, through long insola¬ 
 tion, or exposure in the sunbeams, has contracted the hard¬ 
 ness of a stone. 
 
 Mud, in water, is converted in the shells of fishes, as in 
 muscles,—(the fish) which are found in pools of fresh-water, 
 that flow not, and are covered with moss. But the sub¬ 
 stance of those shells is exceedingly delicate, clear, and 
 glistening. 
 
217 
 
 TRANSLATION OF THE LATIN LETTERS, 
 
 CONTAINED IN VOL. XI. FROM PAGE 480, TO PAGE 491, ARE 
 
 AS FOLLOW :- 
 
 Latin. 
 
 English. 
 
 VOL.VIII. . xvii 
 
 XI. 
 
 . 480 
 . 482 
 . 484 
 . 484 
 . 485 
 . 485 
 
 Vol. XI. . . 489 
 . . XII. . . 191 
 
 .200 
 
 ........ 202 
 
 ........ 202 
 
 .208 
 
 .203 
 
 To the Count Gondomar, Ambassador from the 
 
 Court of Spain. 
 
 Most illustrious Lord Ambassador, 
 
 Your lordship’s love to me, both in its warmth and 
 purity hath, I am well assured, been ever equal and unal¬ 
 terable in prosperity as in adversity; in which regard I 
 offer you the thanks so worthily and justly claimed. Now 
 that at once my age, my fortunes, and my genius, to which 
 I have hitherto done but scanty justice, call me from the 
 stage of active life, I shall devote myself to letters, instruct 
 the actors on it and serve posterity. In such a course I 
 shall, perhaps, find honour. And I shall thus pass my 
 life as within the verge of a better. 
 
 God preserve your Lordship in safety and prosperity, 
 
 Your Servant, 
 
 Fr. St. Alban. 
 
 June 6th, 1621. 
 
 To Count Gondomar. 
 
 Most Illustrious and Excellent Lord, 
 
 I see and acknowledge the divine providence in raising 
 up for me under my utter desertion, such a friend sent as 
 it were from heaven, who involved in such great concerns, 
 
218 TRANSLATION OF THE LATIN LETTERS. 
 
 and with time so very limited, has yet taken an interest in 
 my fortunes, and has effected that for me, which other 
 friends either dared not attempt or could not have ob¬ 
 tained. 
 
 Your lordship will enjoy the suitable and lasting fruit of 
 such dealing in your own noble character, so prone to all 
 the offices of sympathy and honour. Nor will this per¬ 
 haps be the least among your good deeds, that by your as¬ 
 sistance and favour you have raised and strengthened me 
 once one among the living, and who shall not altogether 
 die to posterity. What return can I make ? I shall at 
 . least ever be yours, if not in useful service, at least in 
 heart and good wishes. The fire of my love for you will 
 remain quick under the ashes of my fortune; wherefore, I 
 most humbly greet you, bid you farewell, wish you all 
 prosperity, call heaven to witness my gratitude, promise all 
 faithful observance. 
 
 To the Most Illustrious and Excellent Lord 
 Didacus Sarmiento de Acuna Count Gon- 
 domar , Ambassador Extraordinary of the 
 King of Spain to England. 
 
 To Count Gondomar, then in Spain. 
 
 Most Illustrious Count, 
 
 Many things inspire me with confidence, and even with 
 cheerful alacrity, in addressing you at this time on the 
 subject of my fortunes, and entreating your friendly offices. 
 First, and principally that since so close an alliance be¬ 
 tween our sovereigns may now be regarded as definitively 
 arranged, you are become so much the more powerful ad¬ 
 vocate; and I shrink not now from owing all my fortunes to 
 so great a man, though not my own countryman, and from 
 professing the obligation. Secondly, Since that promise 
 of indulgencies which your lordship while in this country 
 obtained for me, has not been succeeded by repulses, nor 
 on the other hand been completely fulfilled, it would seem 
 from this as if the divine providence intended that the 
 work of rescuing me from my misery was to be yours in its 
 end, as in its beginning. Thirdly, because those two 
 stars which have ever been propitious to me, the greater 
 and the less are now shining in your city, and thus by the 
 assisting and benignant rays of your friendship, they may 
 acquire an influence on my fortunes, which shall restore 
 
TRANSLATION OF THE LATIN LETTERS. 219 
 
 me to a place in the scale of favour, not unbefitting my 
 former elevation. Fourthly, because I learn from the let¬ 
 ters you have lately written to my intimate friend, Sir 
 Toby Matthew, that you cherish a lively and warm remem¬ 
 brance of me, which has neither been overwhelmed nor ex- 
 tinguished, under the weight of those high and sublime 
 interests which rest on your lordship. Lastly, too, there 
 is this circumstance that since by the friendship of the ex¬ 
 cellent lord Marquis, I have been admitted to see and 
 converse with my king, I feel as if I were once more esta¬ 
 blished in favour. The king did not speak to me as a 
 guilty man, but as a man thrown down by a tempest; and 
 withal in his address to me he acknowledged at great 
 length, and, as it seemed, with singular tenderness, my 
 steady and invariable course of industry and integrity. 
 Whence the greater hope springs up within me, that by 
 the continuance of my sovereign’s regard, and the ex¬ 
 tinction of odium by the lapse of time, your Excellency’s 
 efforts for me will not be made in vain. Meanwhile I 
 have neither sunk into indolence, nor impertinently mixed 
 myself with affairs, but I live and am absorbed in labours 
 not at all derogatory to the honours I have borne, and 
 which shall perhaps leave no unpleasing memory of my 
 name to posterity. I hope therefore that I am no un¬ 
 worthy object, on which to display and signalize at once 
 the influence of your power and friendship ; so that it 
 shall be apparent, that you have no less control over the 
 fortunes of a private man, than over public measures. 
 May God preserve your Excellency, and crown you with 
 all happiness. 
 
 Indorsed —My Lord St. Albans first Letter to Gondomar 
 into Spain. 
 
 March 28th, 1623. 
 
OF THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 
 Accounting myself bora for the use of mankind, and 
 judging the case of the common weal to be one of those 
 things which are of public right, and like water or air lie 
 open to all; I sought what might be of most advantage to 
 men, and deliberated what I was most fitted for by nature. 
 I discovered that nothing is of such estimation towards 
 the human race, as the invention and earnest of new things 
 and arts, by which man’s life is adorned. For I perceive 
 that, even in old times among rude men, the inventors and 
 teachers of things rude were consecrated and chosen into 
 the number of the gods, and I noted that the deeds of 
 heroes who built cities, or were legislators, or exercised 
 just authority, or subdued unjust dominations, were cir¬ 
 cumscribed by the narrownesses of places and times. But 
 the invention of things, though it be a matter of less pomp, 
 I esteemed more adapted for universality and eternity. 
 Yet above all, if any bring forth no particular invention, 
 though of much utility, but kindleth a light in nature, 
 which from the very beginning illuminates the regions of 
 things, which lie contiguous to things already invented, 
 afterwards being elevated, lays open and brings to view all 
 the abstrusest things, he seems to me a propagator of the 
 empire of man over the universe, a defender of liberty, a 
 conqueror of necessities. But I found myself constructed 
 more for the contemplations of truth than for aught else, 
 as having a mind sufficiently mobile for recognizing (what 
 is most of all) the similitude of things, and sufficiently 
 fixed and intent for observing the subtleties of differences, 
 and possessing love of investigation, patience in doubting, 
 pleasure in meditating, delay in asserting, facility in re¬ 
 turning to wisdom, and neither affecting novelty, nor 
 admiring antiquity, and hating all imposture. Wherefore 
 I judged my nature to have a kind of familiarity and rela¬ 
 tionship with truth. Yet seeing by rank and education 
 I was trained to civil affairs, and, like a youth, sometimes 
 staggered in my opinions, and conceived I owed my country 
 something peculiar and not equally pertaining to all other 
 parts, and hoped, if I obtained any honourable degree in 
 
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 221 
 
 the commonwealth, to perform with greater help of inge¬ 
 nuity and industry what I had intended, I both learnt 
 civil arts, and with all ingenuousness and due modesty 
 commended myself to my friends who had some power. 
 And in addition to this, because those things of whatever 
 kind penetrate not beyond the condition and culture of this 
 life, the hope occurred that I, born in no very prosperous 
 state of religion, might, if called to civil offices, contribute 
 somewhat to the safety of souls. But when my zeal was 
 imputed to ambition, and my age was matured, and my 
 disordered health also admonished me of my unhappy 
 slowness, and I next considered that I nowise fulfilled my 
 duty, while I was neglecting that by which I could through 
 myself benefit men, and applying myself to the things 
 which depended upon the will of another, I altogether 
 weaned myself from those thoughts, and wholly betook 
 myself to this work according to my former principle. Nor 
 is my resolution diminished, by foreseeing the state of 
 these times, a sort of declination and ruin of the learning 
 which is now in use; for although I dread not the incur¬ 
 sions of barbarians (unless perhaps the empire of Spain 
 should strengthen itself, and oppress and debilitate others 
 by arms, itself by the burden), yet from civil wars (which 
 on account of certain manners, not long ago introduced, 
 seem to me about to visit many countries), and the malig¬ 
 nity of sects, and from these com pend iary artifices and 
 cautions which here crept into the place of learning, no 
 less a tempest seems to impend over letters and science. 
 Nor can the shop of the typographer suffice for these 
 evils. And that unwarlike learnino;, which is nourished 
 by ease, and flourishes by praise and reward, which sus¬ 
 tains not the vehemency of opinion, and is the sport of 
 artifices and impostures, is overcome by the impediments 
 which I have mentioned. Far different is the nature of 
 the knowledge, whose dignity is fortified by utility and 
 operation. And from the injuries of time I am almost 
 secure; but for the injuries of men I am not concerned. 
 For should any say that I savour things too high, I reply 
 simply, in civil affairs there is place for modesty, in con¬ 
 templations for truth. But if any one require works im¬ 
 mediately, I say, without any imposture, that I, a man not 
 old, frail in health, involved in civil studies, coming to the 
 obscurest of all subjects without guide or light, have done 
 enough, if I have constructed the machine itself and the 
 fabric, though I may not have employed or moved it. 
 
222 INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 And with the same candour, I profess that the legitimate 
 interpretation of nature, in the first ascent before arriving 
 at a certain degree of generals, should be kept pure and 
 separate from all application to works. Moreover, I know 
 that all those who have in some measure committed them¬ 
 selves to the waters of experience, seeing they were infirm 
 of purpose, or desirous of ostentation, have at the entrance 
 unreasonably sought pledges of works, and have thence 
 been confounded and shipwrecked. But if any requires 
 at least particular promises, let him know that by that 
 knowledge which is now in use, men are not skilled enough 
 even for wishing. But, what is of less moment, should 
 any of the politicians whose custom it is from personal 
 calculations to estimate every thing, or from examples of 
 like endeavours to form conjecture, presume to interpose 
 his judgment in a matter of this sort, I would have told 
 that ancient saying, “ claudus in via, cursorem extra viam 
 antevertit,” and not to think about examples since the 
 matter is without example. But the method of publishing 
 these things is, to have such of them as tend to seize the 
 correspondencies of dispositions, and purge the areas of 
 minds given out to the vulgar and talked of; to have the 
 rest handed down with selection and judgment. Nor am 
 I ignorant that it is a common and trite artifice of impos¬ 
 tors, to keep apart from the vulgar certain things which 
 are nothing better than the impertinencies they set forth 
 to the vulgar. But without any imposture from sound 
 providence, I foresee that this formula of interpretation, 
 and the inventions made by it, will be more vigorous and 
 secure when contained within legitimate and chosen de¬ 
 vices. Yet I undertake these things at the risk of others. 
 For none of those things which depend upon externals 
 concern me. Nor do I hunt after fame, or, like the 
 heretics, take delight in establishing a sect; and, to receive 
 any private emolument from so great an undertaking, I 
 hold to be both ridiculous and base. Sufficient for me is 
 the consciousness of desert, and the very accomplishment 
 itself of things, which even fortune cannot withstand. 
 
 W. G. G, 
 
223 
 
 THE MASCULINE BIRTH OF TIME; 
 
 OR, THE GREAT 1NSTAURATION OF MAN’S DOMINION 
 
 OVER THE UNIVERSE. 
 
 To God the Father, God the Word, God the Holy Ghost, 
 I address my most humble and ardent prayers, that mind¬ 
 ful of the miseries of man, and of this pilgrimage of life, of 
 which the days are few and evil, they would open up yet 
 new sources of refreshment from the fountains of good, for 
 the alleviation of our sorrows ; and also, that things divine 
 may not in this be prejudiced by things human, nor from 
 the opening up of the passages of sense, and the kindling 
 of greater natural light, any infidelity or darkness may 
 arise in our minds towards the mysteries of God: but 
 rather that, by the understanding cleansed and purified 
 from fantastic and vain ideas, yet wholly submissive and 
 subjected to the divine oracles, those things which are of 
 faith may be rendered to faith. W. G. G. 
 
 TRANSLATION OF THE MASCULINE BIRTH OF TIME. 
 
 OR, THREE BOOKS CONCERNING 
 THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE. 
 
 1. The Purification and Application of the Mind. 
 
 2. The Light of Nature, or Method of Interpretation. 
 
 3. Nature illuminated, or the Truth of Things. 
 
 C. I. Legitimate Mode of Statement. 
 
 I find, my son, that men in showing forth, and no less in 
 concealing the knowledge which they think they have ac¬ 
 quired, have not acted in a spirit of good faith and of duty. 
 No less mischievous, though perhaps less shameful, is the 
 error of those, who, with good intentions but little wisdom, 
 are ignorant of the art and rules proper for setting forth 
 their several subjects. We do not intend, however, to 
 begin a complaint of either this perversity or ignorance in 
 the expounders of knowledge. Had they, by unskilful 
 
224 
 
 MASCULINE BIRTH OF TIME. 
 
 teaching, broken down the weight of the subjects taught, 
 it might, no doubt, have been matter of just indignation. 
 But in teaching inaptitude, it was natural to expect absur¬ 
 dity. I, however, far different from such instructors, intend 
 to impart to you not fictions of imagination or shadows of 
 words, not a mixture of religion, not certain common-place 
 observations, or certain well known experiments adjusted 
 to conformity with fanciful theories, but to bind and place 
 at your command nature with her offspring about her; and 
 can this be supposed a theme fit to be debased by preten¬ 
 sion or unskilfulness, or other defective treatment. So 
 may I exist, my son, and so may I extend the now de¬ 
 plorably narrow limits of man’s dominion over the universe 
 to the permitted boundaries (which is the only object of 
 my prayers among human things), as I shall disclose to 
 you these things with the fullest conviction, with the 
 deepest forecast of my mind, and after the profoundest 
 research into the present state of knowledge, in the method 
 of all others the most legitimate. “ And what,” you will 
 say, “ is this legitimate method ? Have done with artifice 
 and circumlocution; show me the naked truth of your 
 design, that I may be able to form a judgment for myself.” 
 I would, my dearest son, that matters were in such a state 
 with you as to render this possible. Do you suppose that 
 when all the entrances and passages to the minds of all 
 men are infested and obstructed with the darkest idols, 
 and these deep seated and burnt in, as it were, into their 
 substance, that clear and smooth spaces can be found for 
 receiving the true and natural rays of objects ? A new 
 process must be instituted, by which to insinuate ourselves 
 into minds so entirely obstructed. For as the delusions of 
 the insane are removed by art and ingenuity, but aggra¬ 
 vated by violence and opposition, so must we adapt our¬ 
 selves here to the universal insanity. What? do even 
 those less difficult requisites pertaining to the legitimate 
 method of delivering knowledge, appear to you such light 
 and easy matters? That it be ingenuous, that is, afford 
 no handle or occasion for error; that it have a certain native 
 and inseparable quality, both to conciliate belief, and repel 
 the injuries of time, so that the knowledge so delivered, 
 like a vigorous and healthy plant, may daily shoot and 
 thrive; that it appear to place itself in, and adapt itself to 
 the situation of its proper and reasonable reader. Whether 
 I shall show in the sequel all these qualities or not, I 
 appeal to futurity. W. G. G. 
 
THE HISTORY AND FIRST INQUISITION OF 
 SOUND AND HEARING, 
 
 AND TOUCHING THE FORM OF SOUND, AND THE SECRET 
 PROCESS OF SOUND; OR THE WOOD OF 
 SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 Of the generation of sound, and the first percussion. 
 
 Of the lasting of sound, and of the perishing and extinc¬ 
 tion of sounds. 
 
 Of the confusion and perturbation of sounds. 
 
 Of the accessory aids and impediments of sounds. 
 
 Of the stay of sound, and the diversity of mediums. 
 
 Of the penetration of sounds. 
 
 Of the carriage of sounds, and their direction or spread¬ 
 ing, and of the area which sound fills, together and 
 severally. 
 
 Of the variety of the bodies, which yield sound; and 
 the instruments; and of the species of sounds which occur. 
 
 Of the multiplication, majoration, diminution, and frac¬ 
 tion of sounds. 
 
 Of the repercussion of sounds, and echo. 
 
 Of the consent and dissents of audibles and visibles, and 
 of other, so called, spiritual species. 
 
 Of the quickness of the generation and extinction of 
 sound, and the time in which they are effected. 
 
 Of the affinity or non-affinity which sound hath with 
 the motion, local and perceptible, of the air in which it is 
 carried. 
 
 Of the communication of the air percussed and elided, 
 with the ambient air, and bodies, or their spirits. 
 
 Of the forming or articulation of sound. 
 
 Of the very impression of sounds upon the sense. 
 
 Of the organ of hearing, and its disposition and indis¬ 
 position, helps, and hindrances. 
 
 The inquiry into sound and hearing I have thought well 
 forthwith to set on foot; for it advantageth the under- 
 
 VOL. xv. Q 
 
f 
 
 226 OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 standing, and, as it were, makes matter of its health, that 
 the contemplations of the spiritual species, as they call 
 them, and of operations at distance, be mixed with the 
 contemplation of those things, which work by communi¬ 
 cation only of the substance to the touch. Again, the 
 observations concerning sounds have brought forth to us 
 the art of music. But it is customary, and as it were 
 invariable, when trials and observations have grown into 
 art, that the mathematic and practic is pursued, the physic 
 is left. Moreover, optic fareth some whit better; for not 
 only the art of painting and beauty and symmetry are 
 propounded unto optic, but the contemplation of all visibles ; 
 but unto music, only musical tones. Therefore we do in¬ 
 quire of sounds. 
 
 OF THE GENERATION OF SOUND, AND THE FIRST 
 
 PERCUSSION. 
 
 The collision, or elision, as they speak, meaning thereby 
 some section or cutting of the air, which they will have to 
 be the cause of sound, imports neither the form, nor the 
 secret process of sound, but is a term of ignorance and 
 superficial contemplation. 
 
 Sound is diffused and moves with so small an impulse 
 in its generation; also so far, and that in round, not much 
 depending on the first direction; withal so smoothly, with¬ 
 out any evident motion, found either by flame, or by 
 feathers and straws, or in any other manner; that it seems 
 altogether hard that the form of sound should be any 
 cutting, or local and perceptible motion of the air, how¬ 
 soever this may hold the part of the efficient. 
 
 For that sound is so suddenly generated, and straight¬ 
 way dies, it seems necessary that either its generation do a 
 little thrust the air from its nature, and its perishing restore 
 it, as in the compressions of waters, whereas a body cast 
 into the water makes many circles in the waters, that come 
 of the water at first compressed, afterward restoring itself 
 into its proper consistence and dimension (which we have 
 used to call the motion of liberty); or that, contrariwise, 
 the generation of sound be an impression pleasant and 
 kindly, that winneth upon the air, and whereunto the air 
 freely stir re th itself, and that its extinction be from some 
 enmity, which suffers not the air longer to enjoy that agi¬ 
 tation and impression; as in the generation of the very 
 body of flame, wherein the generation of the flame appears 
 
OF SOUND AND HEARING. 227 
 
 to be made with alacrity, but by the air and other environing 
 adversaries presently to be destroyed. 
 
 The whistling, which is made by the mouth without use 
 of a whistle, may be effected by sucking in of the breath 
 toward the inner parts of the mouth, not only by expelling 
 of the breath outwards; and clearly all sucking of the air 
 inwards gives a sound, which seems exceeding worthy of 
 remark: because the sound is generated against the per¬ 
 ceptible motion of the air, so as the first impulsion of the 
 air appears plainly to be the remote efficient and no part 
 of the form of sound. 
 
 In like manner, if there be an egg of glass taken, and 
 the air through a small hole forcibly sucked out; then the 
 hole stopped with wax, and it be laid by for a time; if 
 afterwards the wax be removed from the hole, you shall 
 hear plainly the hissing of the air entering into the egg, 
 being drawn to wit by the inner air, after forcible rarefac¬ 
 tion, restoring itself. So as in this trial also, sound is 
 generated contrarily to the perceptible motion of the air. 
 
 In like manner, in the toy that is called a jew’s-harp, 
 holding the sides betwixt the teeth, the little tongue of 
 iron is drawn outwards and jarred, when it flies back 
 inwards against the air that is in the mouth, and thence is 
 a sound created. 
 
 And in these three trials it may not be doubted but that 
 sound is generated by the percussion of the air inwards 
 towards the mouth on the egg of glass. 
 
 Sound is generated by percussions. The percussion is 
 either of air against air, or of an hard body against the air, 
 or of an hard body against an hard body. 
 
 The instance of the percussion of air against air chiefly 
 prevails in the human voice, and in the voices of birds and 
 of other animals; next in musical wind instruments; also 
 in ordnance, greater and less, where the percussion that 
 gives the sound is generated chiefly by the percussion of 
 the confined air that issues from the mouth of the piece 
 against the outer air; for the bullet wherewith it is charged 
 makes not much to the noise. Neither is the percussion 
 of a soft body against a soft body only seen in the percus¬ 
 sion of air against air, but also of air against flame, as in 
 the raising of a flame with bellows; also flames amongst 
 themselves, when one drives another, yield a certain roaring; 
 but whether the air assist here may be further inquired. 
 Also, all flame that suddenly taketli, if it be of any great¬ 
 ness, makes a sound, rather as I think in displacing of the 
 
228 
 
 OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 air than of itself. Also in eruptions, there is percussion 
 made of the spirit breaking out against the air adjacent; 
 as in the cracklings made by dry leaves, or bay salt, and 
 many other things, when cast into the fire; and in thunder, 
 either by the spirit breaking out from the cloud, or wal¬ 
 lowing and tossed to and fro, as in the more hollow and 
 lengthened rolling of thunder; also we see in sport that a 
 fresh rose leaf gathered together so as it shall contain air, 
 and struck upon the back of the hand or upon the forehead, 
 cracks by eruption of the air. 
 
 Instances of the percussion of an hard body against the 
 air are seen in musical stringed instruments; in the whist¬ 
 ling of an arrow, as it flies through the air; in the beating 
 of the air, although it strike not any hard body; also, in 
 regals their sound is given by the air striking against water, 
 in the pipe they call the nightingale-pipe, which gives a 
 sound continually tumbling; in water agitated and restoring 
 itself again; and in the toys wherewith children please 
 themselves (they call them cocks) in imitating of the voices 
 of birds, likewise in other hydraulics. 
 
 Instances of the percussion of an hard body against an 
 hard body are found either simply, or with communication 
 of some air inclosed beside that air, which is cut or elided 
 between the hard bodies percussed; simply, as in all ham¬ 
 mering or knocking of hard bodies, with communication of 
 air penned in, as in bells and drums. 
 
 A stone cast forcibly into the water gives a sound; as 
 do the drops of rain falling upon the water, and no less 
 wave dashing against wave, in which there is percussion 
 betwixt an hard body and water. 
 
 It seemeth to be constant in the generation of all sound, 
 that there are certain parts of air, and that air is required 
 between the bodies percussed; which air, in the percussion 
 of an hard body against the air, and of an hard body 
 against an hard body, appears manifestly to be cut or 
 elided. I judge that flame should suffice for this in the 
 stead of air, as if in the midst of a great flame a bell should 
 be rung, or stones knocked together ; but in the percussion 
 of air against air this elision or separation appears more 
 dark, but the air seems only to be beaten and driven, and 
 that in a soft voice, very gently. But it seems, even in 
 this kind, to need that there be some elision of the air 
 percussed by the air percussing: for even in air moved by 
 a fan, the air from the side of the fan, and when air is 
 blown out of bellows, the blast of air from the mouth, 
 
OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 229 
 
 divides the other air. But concerning this kind of elision 
 of the air, which happens when the percussion of air 
 against air createth sound, as in the voice, let inquiry be 
 made further. 
 
 It is well doubted, whether the percussion that produces 
 sound, when the air is percussed by a string, or otherwise, 
 be from the beginning, when the string starting back per¬ 
 cusses the air, or a little after, the air to wit being com¬ 
 pressed by the first percussion, and thereafter acting the 
 part, as it were, of an hard body. 
 
 When sound is yielded by the percussion of air against 
 air, it is required that there be an imprisoning or penning 
 of the air in some concave, as in whistling by the mouth, 
 in pipes, in the viol, in the voice; which is divided, where 
 the air is penned in the hollow of the mouth or throat. In 
 the percussion of an hard body against air is required 
 hardness of the body and quick motion, and sometimes 
 communication with a concave, as in the cittern, lute, 
 beating of the air, &c.; but in the percussion of an hard 
 body against an hard body, the hollow, or the quick motion, 
 is less required. 
 
 There is a talk of a white gunpowder, which should give 
 percussion without noise. It is sure that nitre, which is 
 white, is of great force for expulsion, yet in such wise as 
 the speedy kindling doth much enhance both the percus¬ 
 sion and the noise; but the quick kindling is caused 
 specially by the coal of willows, which is black. There¬ 
 fore if a composition were made of sulphur and nitre, and 
 a modicum of camphor, it is like that the kindling would 
 be slower, and the percussion not so jarring and sharp; 
 whence much might be diminished of the sound, but with 
 loss too in the strength of the percussion. To be further 
 inquired. 
 
 OF THE LASTING OF SOUND, AND ITS PERISHING AND 
 
 EXTINCTION. 
 
 The lasting of the sound of a bell that is struck, or of a 
 string which seems to be prolonged, and gradually to fade, 
 comes not rightly of the first percussion, but the trembling 
 of the body percussed generates in the air continually new 
 sound. For if that trembling be checked, and the bell or 
 string stayed, the sound quickly dies; as in virginals, 
 where if the quill be dropped so that it touch the string 
 the sound ceases. 
 
230 
 
 OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 A bell hanging in the air gives a far louder and more 
 enduring sound if it be chimed upon with an hammer on 
 the outside, than if it stood fixed, and were in like manner 
 chimed upon with an hammer. And of the more enduring 
 sound the reason is rendered already, because it trembleth 
 longer. But that even the first sound in the hanging bell 
 is more resounding, in the standing less would be further 
 inquired. 
 
 Likewise a drinking cup of silver or of glass that is 
 fillipped, if it be left alone, gives a sound louder and more 
 lasting; but if the foot of the cup be steadied with the 
 other hand, a far duller, and of shorter stay. 
 
 The sound which is yielded in the viol or cittern is 
 plainly not made by the percussion between the finger, or 
 the quill, and the string, or between the finger, or the quill, 
 and the air, but by the finger impelling, and thereafter the 
 string flying back, and in that recoil percussing the air. 
 Therefore when the string is moved with a bow, not by the 
 finger, or a quill, the sound can be continued at pleasure, 
 through the roughness of the string of the bow, which is a 
 little smeared with rosin; whence it slides not on the 
 string, nor once strikes it, but holds and continually tor- 
 tureth it, out of which motion the sound is maintained. 
 
 It can be taken for an argument that sound is manifestly 
 some kind of local motion in the air, that it so suddenly 
 fails; because, in all cutting or impulsion of the air, the 
 air quite recovers and restores itself, which also water doth 
 through many circles, albeit not so speedily as the air. 
 
 OF THE CONFUSION AND PERTURBATION OF SOUNDS. 
 
 In the act of sight, visibles from one part impede not 
 visibles from other parts; but all the visibles which offer 
 themselves from every part, lands, waters, woods, the sun, 
 buildings, men, are at once represented to the eyes. But 
 if so many voices or sounds did at once issue from several 
 parts, the hearing should be plainly confounded, nor might 
 distinctly perceive them. 
 
 The greater sound confoundeth the less, that it should 
 not be heard; but spiritual species, as they speak of a 
 diverse kind from sound, confuse not sound, but altogether 
 and at once hang in the air, the one little or nothing 
 troubling the other; as light, or colour, heat and cold, 
 smells, magnetic virtues; all these together can hang in 
 the air, nor yet do greatly hinder or disturb sounds. 
 
 
 i 
 
 
OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 231 
 
 The cause wherefore many visibles are at once repre¬ 
 sented unto the eyes, the one not confounding the other, 
 would seem to be none other but this: that visibles are not 
 seen except in a right line, but sounds are heard even in a 
 line oblique, or arcuate. Therefore as many objects, in 
 the area of the sphere of sight, as are conveyed, there be 
 so many cones of beams, nor ever one cone doth coincide 
 with another; neither do the vertices of the cones meet in 
 the same point, because they are carried by right lines. 
 But sounds, which are carried by lines both right and 
 arcuate, can meet easily in one point, and so are confused. 
 The same seemeth to be the cause wherefore a more bright 
 colour drowns not a more dim colour; nevertheless a greater 
 light obscures and hides a weaker light, because light is 
 perceived in an arched line, like as sound. For although 
 the very flame of a candle be not seen except in a right 
 line, yet does the light that is every where spread round 
 attain to the sight in lines, arched in respect of the body of 
 the candle : the like is the case of the sun, or flame. Now 
 if it be objected that neither is light itself seen except in a 
 right line from air illuminated, it is true; but I think that 
 this as well happens to sound : for neither is sound heard 
 unless in right lines from some part of the sphere of sound, 
 whither the first pulsation arrives. But colour, which is 
 nothing other than the image unequally reflected of the 
 light, spreadeth around so weak species, that it little or 
 nothing tinges the air adjacent, unless where the colours 
 are conveyed in right lines between the object and the eye. 
 
 Let there be a trial made with a double recorder, in 
 which let there be two Apples, at each end one, so as they 
 may be played in unison : the hollow pipe being of a 
 double length, and continued in one, let two together play 
 the same tune at either end, and let it be noted whether the 
 sound be confused, or amplified, or dulled. 
 
 Let there be two hollow trunks taken, and joined toge¬ 
 ther crosswise, so as they shall open the one into the other, 
 in the place where they are joined; and let two speak into 
 the direct and transverse trunk, and let the ears of two be 
 in like manner applied to the opposite ends, and observe 
 whether the voices confuse one another. 
 
232 
 
 OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 OF THE ACCESSORY AIDS AND IMPEDIMENTS OF SOUND; 
 
 OF THE STAY OF SOUND; AND THE DIVERSITY OF 
 
 MEDIUMS. 
 
 I remember in a chamber in Cambridge that was some¬ 
 thing ruinous, that a pillar of iron was erected for a prop, 
 of the thickness perhaps of a thumb’s breadth and an half; 
 and that this pillar, being struck with a stick or otherwise, 
 made a little flat noise in the chamber wherein the pillar 
 stood, but in the chamber beneath a resounding boom. 
 
 To inquire, which bodies, and of what solidity and 
 thickness, altogether debar and shut out sound; as, also, 
 which more or less dull, although they intercept it not 
 wholly. For as yet is it not known which mediums inter¬ 
 posed be more propitious, which more adverse. Therefore 
 let there be trial made in gold, stone, glass, cloth, water, 
 oil, and of the thickness of each. Hereof is all need to 
 inquire further. 
 
 Air is the aptest, and, as it were, the sole medium of 
 sound. Again, the moister air (I judge) better conveyeth 
 sound than the drier; but in a fog what happeneth I 
 remember not. Also the night air better than by day; 
 but this can be ascribed to the silence. 
 
 Inquire touching the medium of flame, what its opera¬ 
 tion shall be in respect of sound; whether, to wit, a flame 
 of some thickness altogether stop and intercept sound, or 
 at least deaden it more than the air. This can be seen in 
 bonfires. 
 
 Also to inquire concerning the medium of air vehemently 
 agitated. For although wind carry sound, yet I deem that 
 any vehement wind doth somewhat trouble sound, so as it 
 shall be heard less far, even with the wind, than in still 
 weather, of which let there be more inquiry made. 
 
 To see what sound brass or iron, red hot, yields, struck 
 with a hammer, compared to that which it gives cold. 
 
 OF THE PENETRATION OF SOUNDS. 
 
 The a’etites, or eagle stone, hath like a kernel or yolk of 
 the stone, which being shaken makes a flat sound; so an 
 hawk’s bell [stopped], but a much clearer if there be a 
 chink. 
 
 Let inquiry be made of divers, if they hear at all under 
 water, especially that is of any deepness; and let this be 
 
OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 233 
 
 distinctly inquired, not only whether they hear any sound 
 at all from above, which is made in the air, but also, 
 whether they hear the percussion of the body of the water 
 within the water, where no air is. I have made this trial 
 m a bath ; a pail of a good size with the mouth turned 
 over was, in such wise, pressed evenly down, as it carried 
 the air fairly down with it, in its hollow, below the water, 
 to the depth of an hand breadth; and in this manner the 
 pail was held down with the hands, that it should not 
 overturn nor rise: then a diver put his head within the 
 pail, and did speak: his voice was heard, speaking; and 
 even his speech was articulately distinguished, but wonder¬ 
 fully shrill, and almost like a whistling, as the voice useth 
 to be heard in a play of puppets. 
 
 Let it be exactly inquired, so as it be clearly rendered 
 positive whether sound can be generated, except there be 
 air betwixt the percussing and the percussed body. As, if 
 two pebbles hanging by a string be let down into a basin 
 of water, or a river, and shaken, so as they shall strike 
 together in the midst of the water; or let an open pair of 
 tongs be thrust down into the water, and there knapped ; 
 and let it be noted whether they give a sound, and what. 
 I do suppose that divers, in swimming, make no noise 
 under the water; unless there may perchance be some, by 
 the succession of motion unto the surface of the water, and 
 the water thence striking the air. 
 
 There is no doubt but in bladders tied, and not quite 
 full, and shaken, there is a sound given, namely, of the 
 liquor contained in them, and no less a sound is given on 
 letting down a stone into water, when it strikes the bottom 
 of the vessel. But in the former trial air is intermingled; 
 in the second, the percussion of the bottom of the vessel 
 b .y the stone communicates with the air without the vessel. 
 But after the first percussion it needeth not that there be 
 air intermediate through the whole area of the sphere 
 deferent; for that is shewn by the trial of one speaking in 
 a pail under the water, where part of the deferent from the 
 water is not air, but the wood of the pail, and the water; 
 whence the sound is sharpened, and minished, and lost. 
 
 But because it is manifest that sound passes through 
 and penetrates hard bodies (as potters’ earth and glass); 
 and it is also most certain (although hitherto concealed 
 from men’s observation) that there is, in every tangible 
 body, some pneumatical part, besides the gross parts inter¬ 
 mixed, it is to be considered whether penetration of sound 
 
234 
 
 OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 of this kind come not thence, for that the pneumatical or 
 aerial parts of the tangible body communicate with the 
 outer air. 
 
 Take a vessel of silver, and another of wood, full of 
 water; take a pair of iron tongs, and knap them in the 
 water in the vessels, at the distance of a thumb’s breadth, 
 perhaps, or more, from the bottom : you shall hear the 
 sound of the tongs knapped in the vessel of silver much 
 more resounding than in the wooden one. Whereas if the 
 two vessels w r ere empty, and you knapped the tongs at the 
 same distance, there should be little difference or none. 
 Whence it appears, first, that where is no air that can be 
 elided, but only water, sound is given; next, that the sound 
 given by the percussion communicates better with the 
 vessel through water than through air. The mouth being 
 close shut, there is made a murmur (such as dumb persons 
 use to make) by the throat; if the nostrils likewise be fast 
 closed, no murmur can be made. Whence it appears, that 
 that sound by the throat is not effected, unless through 
 the opening which lies between the throat and the nostrils. 
 
 OF THE CARRIAGE OF SOUNDS, AND THEIR DIRECTION 
 
 OR SPREADING; AND OF THE AREA WHICH SOUND 
 
 FILLS, TOGETHER AND SEVERALLY. 
 
 All sound is diffused in a sphere from the place of the 
 percussion, and fills the whole area of this sphere to a 
 certain limit, upwards, downwards, sideways, and every 
 way. 
 
 Throughout this orb the sound is loudest close to the 
 stroke; thence, in the proportion of the distance, it grows 
 more faint, until it vanishes. The limits of this sphere 
 are extended some little by reason of the quickness of 
 hearing; yet is there something uttermost, whither, to the 
 most delicate sense, sound reaches not. 
 
 There is something, I think, in the direction of the first 
 impulsion; for, if a man should stand in an open pulpit in 
 the fields, and shout, the voice, I judge, should be further 
 heard forwards from the speaker than behind. So if ord¬ 
 nance, or an harquebuss be discharged, I judge that the 
 sound shall be further heard before the ordnance or harque¬ 
 buss than behind it. 
 
 Whether there be any thing in the ascension of sound 
 upwards, or in the descension of sound downwards, which 
 may further sound, or make it cease nearer, doth not 
 
OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 235 
 
 appear. The sound is indeed well heard, if one speak from 
 a high window or turret, by those who stand upon the 
 ground; and contrariwise, being uttered by those that 
 stand upon the ground from the window or turret, but by 
 whether more easily, or further off, let better inquiry be 
 made. 
 
 Pulpits are used for speaking in assemblies, and generals 
 did usually speak standing upon mounds of sods; yet is it 
 in no wise hence confirmed that sound easilier descends 
 than it rises, since the cause hereof may be the liberty of 
 the air in the higher place, not thronged or hindered, as 
 below amongst the crowd, but not the readier motion down¬ 
 wards. Therefore let not the contemplation stay in this 
 instance, but let a trial be made where other things are 
 equal. 
 
 The power of the sound is received whole in every part 
 of the air, not the whole in the whole air, unless where the 
 opening or passage is exceedingly straight. For if one stand 
 in any place utterly closed, so as the sound may not pene¬ 
 trate at all, and that in any part soever of a sphere of 
 sound, and there be a small opening made, the articulate 
 voice shall enter through that opening, and in fine through 
 as many openings as you shall chuse to make through the 
 whole round of the sphere of sound; so as it is manifest 
 that that whole articulation of sound is conveyed entire in 
 these minutest parts of the air, not less than if the air were 
 at large on every side. 
 
 It is, however, to be observed whether sound proceeding 
 from the greater pulsations of the air (such as are made by 
 the discharge of ordnance) become not more exile when 
 they enter by those small apertures; for it may be that the 
 subtilities of sound shall enter unconfused, but the whole 
 crash, or roar, not so well. 
 
 The rays of visible bodies do not strike the sense, unless 
 they be conveyed through the medium in straight lines, 
 and the interposition of any opaque, in a right line, inter¬ 
 cepts the sight, although every thing else be on all sides 
 wholly open. But sound, if there be a dilation or passage, 
 whether by arching over, or by inverted arching downwards, 
 or laterally, or even by winding, perishes not, but arrives. 
 Nevertheless, I judge that sound is more strongly carried 
 in straight lines, betwixt the pulsations and the ear, and 
 that by its archings and windings it is somewhat broken, 
 as if there be a wall betwixt the speaker and the hearer, I 
 think that the voice shall not be so well heard as if the 
 
23G 
 
 OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 wall were away. I judge too, that if the speaker or the 
 hearer be placed at a little distance from the wall, the voice 
 shall be better heard than nigh unto the wall, because the 
 arching so much the less departs from a right line. But 
 this also would be further inquired. 
 
 If the ear be laid to the one end of any tube or long 
 hollow trunk, and a voice speak softly at the other opening 
 of the tube, such a voice shall be heard, which, being as 
 softly spoken in the air at large, should not arrive, nor be 
 heard. Whence it is clear, that that confining of the air 
 helps to the conveying of the voice, without confusion. 
 
 It is also a common opinion, that, other things being 
 equal, the voice is better heard within doors than abroad ; 
 but whether the voice be better heard when the ear is out 
 of doors, and the voice within the house; or contrariwise, 
 when the voice is out of doors, and the ear within the 
 house, may be further inquired; albeit herein also the 
 opinion is received, that what is abroad is better heard 
 within doors, than what is within, abroad. 
 
 It is common to hearing and sight, and indeed, in a 
 certain measure, to the other senses, that the attention of 
 the perceiving mind, and express direction to perceiving, 
 helps somewhat to perceiving, as when one looks stead¬ 
 fastly, or (as they say) pricks his ears. 
 
 Sounds are not carried so far, articulate and distinct, 
 as their species, and a confused coil of them; for the hum 
 of voices can be heard where the articulate words them¬ 
 selves are not heard; and a confused tinkling of music, 
 when the harmony itself or tune is not heard. 
 
 Sound is preserved, at the best, in a hollow trunk. 
 Therefore let there be taken a hollow trunk of a good 
 length, and let it be put out from the window of a lower 
 chamber; let one speak by thrusting of his head out of 
 the window, at one end of the trunk, as softly as ever he 
 may; let another lay his ear to the other end of the trunk, 
 standing below upon the ground: let this be done in like¬ 
 wise reversely, by speaking from below, and laying to of 
 the ear above, and from this trial let a judgment be made, 
 whether the voice ascend or descend more easily, or even 
 alike. They deliver for certain, that there be some places 
 and buildings so vaulted, that if one stand in a certain 
 part of the chamber, and speak, he can be better heard at 
 some distance than near. 
 
 All harmony appeareth to sound somewhat fuller and 
 deeper at a little remoteness from the place of the sound 
 
OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 237 
 
 than near: so as something should seem to happen to 
 hearing about sound, like as happeneth to sight about 
 visible species, that some removal from the organ of the 
 sense furthereth the perception of the sense. But in 
 that opinion may be twofold error. First, because in the 
 act of sight there be, perhaps, beams required from the 
 object to the pupil, which there cannot be where the object 
 toucheth the pupil, which between the hearing and the 
 sound is not required. But much rather, because to seeing 
 is light needed. But an object touching the pupil inter¬ 
 cepts the light; whereas nothing of this kind befalls to 
 hearing. And in the second place, because to sight there 
 needeth not always a medium : forasmuch as, in the re¬ 
 moving of cataracts of the eyes, the little silver needle 
 wherewith the cataracts are removed, even when it moveth 
 upon the pupil within the coat of the eye, is excellently 
 seen. 
 
 In objects of sight, if the eye be placed in the dark, and 
 the object in the light, it shall do well; but if the object 
 be placed in the dark, and the eye in the light, you shall 
 not see. So if a thin veil or net work be cast over the 
 eyes, the object is well seen; if upon the object, it con¬ 
 founds sight. And albeit, that perhaps neither of these 
 agreeth to sound and hearing, yet may they advertise us 
 that trials be made, whether the ear set against the hollow 
 trunk, if the sound be made at a distance in the air at 
 large, or conversely, the sound be produced at the hollow 
 trunk, the ear being placed at a distance in the air at 
 large, favour more the perception of the sense. 
 
 OF THE VARIETY OF THE BODIES WHICH YIELD SOUND; 
 
 AND THE INSTRUMENTS; AND OF THE SPECIES OF 
 
 SOUNDS WHICH OCCUR. 
 
 The kinds of sounds appear to receive such a division : 
 loud, soft, sharp or treble, base; musical, unmusical; inte¬ 
 rior or whispering, exterior or sounding; simple, com¬ 
 pounded, original, reflected; so as they are divisions six. 
 
 The stronger the first pulsation shall be, and the dilation 
 the more free, and without let, the greater is the sound 
 given : the weaker the percussion, and more disturbed the 
 dilation, the less. 
 
 Treble sounds are carried as far, and perchance farther 
 than, base. Let this be better inquired. 
 
238 
 
 OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 Accordingly as the concave of a bell shall be greater, it 
 giveth a baser sound; the less, the more treble. 
 
 The bigger a string, the baser sound it shall yield; the 
 less, the more treble. 
 
 A string, the more tightly strained, the more treble 
 sound shall it yield; the looser, the baser: so as a little 
 bigger string more tightly strained and a less more slackly 
 shall give the same note. 
 
 In trumpets, in like wise, in flutes, horns, and recorders, 
 pipes, also in the mouth of a man whistling, the more 
 narrow and strait they are, they give the more treble 
 sound; the wider, or more open, the baser. 
 
 In flutes, the air, issuing by an hole nearer the breath, 
 yields a more treble sound; by one more distant, a baser: 
 so a little bigger flute by the nearer hole, and a smaller by 
 the more removed, may give the same note. 
 
 In some stringed instruments (as in the viol, citterns, 
 and the like) men have found a skill for the straining of 
 the strings, beyond the first straining, so as compressing 
 them with the fingers lower down or higher up, they strain 
 them to the alteration of the note. 
 
 If a drinking-cup of glass or silver be taken and fillipped, 
 if the water stand higher in the cup, and the cup be fuller, 
 it will give a more treble sound ; if lower, and the cup be 
 more empty, a baser. 
 
 In an hollow pipe, such as they use for shooting of birds, 
 if one whistle with the mouth, setting the mouth to one 
 end of the tube, the sound is dulled, truly, to the by¬ 
 stander; but if the ear be laid to the other end, it gives a 
 most sharp sound, so as it shall hardly be borne. 
 
 Let there be a trial made, with a trunk, in the part where 
 the ear is laid, narrow, in the part where the mouth is set, 
 wider, and conversely; whether the sound be rendered 
 more treble or baser, after the manner of mirrors, which 
 contract or enlarge the objects of sight. 
 
 OF THE MULTIPLICATION, MAJORATION, DIMINUTION, 
 AND FRACTION OF SOUND. 
 
 It would be seen in what, how, way, manner, sound can 
 be artificially magnified and multiplied. Mirrors do effect 
 both in sight. Now the sudden reflexion of sound seems 
 to turn to augmentation: for if the voice and echo be 
 yielded together, need is that the sound be not distin- 
 
OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 239 
 
 guished, but magnified. Therefore sounds upon rivers are 
 greater, the water resounding and blending itself with the 
 original sound. 
 
 1 have also noted that when a round-house is made in 
 water-conduits, ' then a long vault, and then a greater 
 chamber (such as is to be seen in the fields by Charing 
 Cross near London), if you cry at the window or slit of the 
 round-house, and one stand by the window of the greater 
 chamber, a far more fearful roaring is heard than by one 
 standing where the cry is made. 
 
 I bethink me that in the play of puppets, the speaking 
 is such as it is heard distinctly, but far sharper and more 
 exile than in the air at large; as happens in mirrors that 
 render letters far smaller than they are in the ordinary 
 medium: so as sound appears plainly possible by art to be 
 both amplified and rendered more exile. 
 
 Children hold the horn of a bent bow betwixt their teeth, 
 and with an arrow strike the string, whence is produced a 
 more resounding sound, and a far greater boom, than if the 
 bow were not held in the teeth; which they ascribe to the 
 consent which the bones of the teeth have with the bone of 
 hearing; since, conversely also, by a certain harsh sound 
 in the hearing, the teeth too be set on edge. 
 
 In like manner, let a lance touch the wood of the belly 
 of an harp, especially of the hole in it at the hollow end, 
 and be held with the teeth at the other end, and the harp 
 struck; the sound is made greater by taking hold with the 
 teeth, that is to say, to him that so taketh hold. 
 
 It is most assured (however unnoted) that the force, 
 which after the first percussion carries on balls, or arrows, 
 or darts, and the like, is situated in the minute parts of the 
 body discharged, and not in the air continually carrying it, 
 like a boat in the water. This being premised, it may be 
 considered whether sound might not be lessened in ord¬ 
 nance or an harquebuss, without much weakening of the 
 percussion, in this manner. Let there be an harquebuss 
 made with a barrel of a pretty strength, so as it break not 
 easily ; in the barrel let there be four or five holes made, 
 not like chinks, but round, about the middle of the barrel. 
 The percussion hath already gotten its force, excepting so 
 far as by reason of the length of the barrel it may be 
 increased ; but the percussion of the air at the mouth of 
 the harquebuss, which generates the sound, will be much 
 attenuated by the emission of sound through those holes in 
 
240 
 
 OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 the middle of the barrel, before that the air inclosed arrive 
 at the mouth of the harquebuss. Therefore it is probable 
 that the sound and boom shall by many parts be dimi¬ 
 nished. 
 
 OF THE REPERCUSSION OF SOUNDS AND ECHO. 
 
 The repercussion of sounds (which we call echo) can be 
 taken for an argument that sound is not a local motion of 
 the air; for if it were, the repercussion should be made in 
 manner conformable to the original, as happens in all cor¬ 
 poreal repercussions. But in sound, wherein such an exact 
 generation is required, as in the voice, which hath so many 
 organs, and in musical instruments, which be curiously 
 framed, the things which yield the repercussed sound have 
 nothing such, but are merely rude, having almost nothing 
 save this, that sound passes not through them. 
 
 OF THE CONSENTS AND DISSENTS OF AUDIBLES AND VISI¬ 
 BLES, AND OF OTHER SO CALLED SPIRITUAL SPECIES. 
 
 They agree in these: 
 
 Both are diffused in a spherical compass or orb, and fill 
 the whole area of that sphere, and are carried to very distant 
 spaces, and wax faint by degrees, according to the distance 
 of the object, then vanish. Both carry their figurations 
 and differences into minute portions of their orb, entire and 
 unconfused, so as they are perceived through small crannies 
 no otherwise than in an open place. 
 
 Both are of exceedingly sudden and swift generation and 
 dilation, and conversely they are extinguished, and perish 
 suddenly and quickly. 
 
 Both take and convey minute and exquisite differences, 
 as of colours, figures, motions, distances, in visibles; of 
 articulate voices, of musical tones, and of their swift changes 
 and trepidation, in audibles. 
 
 Both, in their virtue and force, appear neither to emit 
 any corporeal substance into their mediums or their orb, 
 nor even to give forth or provoke a local perceptible motion 
 in their mediums, but to convey certain spiritual species, 
 of which the nature and manner is unknown. 
 
 Both appear to be not generative of any other virtue or 
 quality beside their proper virtue, and so far to work, 
 being else barren. 
 
 Both in their proper action appear, as if corporeally, to 
 
OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 241 
 
 work three things. The first, that the stronger object 
 drowns and confounds the weaker; as the light of the 
 sun, the light of a candle, the report of ordnance, the 
 voice. The second, that the more excellent object destroys 
 the weaker sense; as the light of the sun, the eye, a violent 
 sound close at the ear, the hearing. The third, that both 
 are repercussed, as in mirrors and the echo. 
 
 Neither doth the object of the one confound or hinder 
 the object of the other; as light or colour, sound, or con¬ 
 trariwise. 
 
 Both affect the sense in animals, and that by objects in 
 greater or less degrees grateful or odious: but they affect 
 also after their own manner inanimates proportionate, and 
 having (as seemeth) a conformity with the organs of the 
 senses; as colours, a mirror, that is crystalline like the 
 eye; sounds, the places of reverberation, which seem, like¬ 
 wise, to resemble the bone and cavern of the ear. 
 
 Both work diversely, accordingly as they have their 
 mediums well or ill disposed. 
 
 To both the medium the most conducible and propitious 
 is the air. In both the stretching of the sense, and, as it 
 were, its erection to perceiving, availeth somewhat in more 
 nice objects. 
 
 They differ in these: 
 
 The species of visibles appear to be as if emissions of 
 beams from the visible body, almost like odours. But the 
 species of audibles appear more to partake of a local mo¬ 
 tion, like the percussions which are made in the air: that 
 whereas bodies for the most part work in two manners, by 
 communication of their nature, or by an impression or 
 signature of their motion, that diffusion in visibles appeareth 
 more to partake of the former manner; in audibles, of the 
 latter. 
 
 The dilation of sounds appears to be more evidently 
 carried by the air than of visibles. For I judge that a 
 vehement wind shall not so much hinder any visible afar 
 off, as a sound; I understand the wind blowing contrary. 
 
 It is a notable difference, whence also many less diffe¬ 
 rences flow, that visibles (original light excepted) are not 
 carried but by right lines, whilst sounds are carried by 
 arcuate lines. 
 
 Hence it happens, that visibles confound not one another, 
 that are represented together: sounds eontrarily. Hence 
 it happens, that the solidity of the substance seems not 
 
 VOL. xv. it 
 

 
 242 OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 greatly to hinder sight, provided only the positions of the 
 parts of the body be after a simple order and with straight 
 passages, as in glass, water, crystal, diamond; but a little 
 silk or linen cloth breaks the sight, though they be bodies 
 very thin and porous; but cloths of this kind little or 
 nothing hinder hearing, which those solids do exceedingly. 
 Hence it happens, that unto the reverberation of visibles a 
 small mirror suffices, or like transpicuous body, let it be 
 only placed in a right line, where the visibles pass; but 
 unto making of the reverberation of echo, it needeth also 
 to confine the sound from the side, because it is carried to 
 all sides. The visible object is further carried, in propor¬ 
 tion, than sound. 
 
 Visibles, too nearly approached to the eye, are not so 
 well seen as at some little distance, so as the beams may 
 meet in a more acute angle; but in hearing, the nearer the 
 better. But herein there may be twofold error. The first, 
 because to seeing there is required light; but if the object 
 be brought very near to the eye, this is shut out. For I 
 have heard of one trustworthy, which was cured of cata¬ 
 racts of the eyes, when the little silver needle moved over 
 the very pupil of his eye, and did touch it, he without any 
 medium (that silver needle being far narrower than the 
 pupil itself of the eye) saw perfectly the needle. The 
 second, that the cave of the ear is distinctly interposed 
 before the organ of hearing, so as being without, the sound 
 is altogether unable to touch the bone and membrane of 
 hearing. 
 
 The species of sight are more swiftly conveyed than 
 sounds, as appeareth in the flash and report of guns; also 
 in lightning and thunder, where the thunder is heard after 
 a while. 
 
 I conceive also that the species of sound do hang longer 
 in the air than visibles. For although neither do these 
 perish on the instant, as we see in a ring spinning, and 
 lute-strings fillipped, and in twilight and the like; yet I 
 deem that sounds, for that they are carried by the wind, 
 stay longer. 
 
 The beams of light being gathered, induce heat also, 
 which is an action diverse from the visible quality. In 
 like manner, if it be true that shouts have cast down birds 
 flying over, that is also an action exceedingly diverse from 
 the audible quality. 
 
 There seemeth not in visibles to be found an object as 
 odious, and noisome to the sense, as in audibles; but they 
 
OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 243 
 
 affect it more evenly; for things foul to sight rather offend 
 by moving of the fancy concerning foul things than of 
 themselves; but in audibles the grating of a saw that 
 is sharpened, and other like sounds, cause an horror; and 
 a discordant note in music is in straightways refused and 
 loathed. 
 
 It is not assured, that there is refraction in sounds, as in 
 beams. But doubtless sounds do rebound: but that is to 
 be ascribed to reflexion. For I do not think, if sounds 
 pass through diverse mediums, as air, cloth, wood, that 
 there be one place of the sound, where it is carried, another 
 where it is heard, which is the property of refraction; but 
 refraction seems to depend upon action, in right lines, 
 which pertains not to sound. 
 
 But contraction of sound, and its dilatation, according to 
 the disposition of the medium, happens undoubtedly, as in 
 the speaking of puppets, and under water: the sound is 
 contracted within that cell, which abroad is dispersed; as 
 by mirrors visibles are dilated and contracted. 
 
 A tremulous medium (as smoke in visibles) makes the 
 visible objects also to tremble; but in sounds nothing such 
 is yet found, unless perchance the rise and fall, by winds. 
 For the trembling in the nightingale-pipe is trembling of 
 the percussion, not of the medium. 
 
 Going from great light into the dark, or out of the dark 
 into light, the sight is some little confused; but whether 
 the like be after very loud noises, or a great silence, would 
 be inquired. 
 
 OF THE QUICKNESS OF THE GENERATION, AND EXTINC¬ 
 TION OF SOUND, AND THE TIME IN WHICH THEY ARE 
 
 EFFECTED. 
 
 All sound is exceeding quickly generated, and quickly 
 perishes. But the swiftness of its motion and of its diffe¬ 
 rences, appears a thing not so wonderful. For the motion 
 of the fingers upon a lute, or of the breath in the pipe or 
 flute, are found to be exceedingly swift: and the tongue 
 itself (no very exquisite organ) goes through as many mo¬ 
 tions as letters; but that sounds should not only be so 
 speedily generated but that they should also, by their 
 momentary force and impression, as it were, suddenly fill 
 so great space, is matter worthy of the highest admiration. 
 For instance, a man in the middle of a field speaking aloud 
 is heard for a quarter of a mile, in a round, and that in 
 
244 
 
 OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 articulate words, and these hanging in every little portion 
 of the air, and all in a space of time far less perhaps than 
 a minute. 
 
 To inquire of the space of time in which sound is con¬ 
 veyed. It can be found thus. Let a man stand in a steeple 
 by night; let another stand in the field, a mile off, per¬ 
 haps, or as far as the bell can be heard, and let him have 
 ready a torch lighted, but covered. Then let him in the 
 steeple strike the bell: then let the other, who stands in 
 the plain, as soon as he hears it, lift the torch : in this way, 
 by the space of time between the striking of the bell and 
 the seeing of the torch, shall he that stands in the steeple 
 discover the time of the motion of the sound. 
 
 In guns, the flame is seen sooner than the report is 
 heard, although the flame follow the discharging of the 
 ball; so as the flash issues later, but sooner strikes the 
 sense. Whence it is rightly gathered, that the beams 
 visible are more speedily diffused and arrive than the 
 species or impressions of sound. 
 
 OF THE AFFINITY, OR NON-AFFINITY, WHICH SOUND 
 
 HATH WITH THE MOTION, LOCAL AND PERCEPTIBLE, 
 
 OF THE AIR IN WHICH IT IS CARRIED. 
 
 Sound doth not appear manifestly and actually to shake 
 and trouble the air, as doth wind; but the motions of 
 sound appear to be effected by spiritual species; for thus 
 we must speak, until something more assured shall be 
 found. 
 
 So as I conceive that a very loud sound of one shouting, 
 at a little distance from the very motion of the breath, 
 shall scarcely stir any trembling aspen leaf, or straw, or 
 flame. 
 
 But in greater pulsations there is found a very bodily 
 and actual motion of the air; but whether that proceed 
 from the motion itself which generates sound, or from a 
 collateral cause, or some concomitants, appeareth not. 
 Thunder claps sometimes make glass windows to tremble, 
 and even walls: I think also that ordnance let off, or 
 explosions of mines do the same. 
 
 And I remember, if I mistake not, that there is at King’s 
 College, in Cambridge, a certain wooden building, in which 
 there hang bells, and that when the bells ring, it is 
 shaken. But whatsoever that hidden motion be, which is 
 
OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 245 
 
 sound, it appears that neither is it engendered without 
 perceptible motion in the first pulsation, and that again by 
 the perceptible motion of the air, it is carried or hindered. 
 
 A word quietly uttered, which at a distance perhaps of 
 thirty feet can be heard, will yet hardly stir the flame of a 
 candle, that is held within a foot of the mouth; whilst 
 blowing a little strongly with the mouth shall make the 
 flame to waver, at a much greater distance. 
 
 The sound of bells, and the like, comes louder, and goes 
 off more dully, as the wind blows towards the ear, or 
 against the sound. The same happens in a shout, which 
 being utttered against the wind, is not heard so far. 
 
 It is delivered, that through vast shouts of numbers 
 applauding and cries of rejoicing, the air has been so 
 broken or rarefied, that birds flying over have fallen down. 
 There runs an opinion that the noise of many bells ringing 
 in populous cities is good against thunder and pestilence. 
 
 Some places and buildings are certainly reported to be 
 so vaulted, that if one speak in them, and (as the report 
 hath it) against the wall, in one part of the building, his 
 words shall be better heard at some distance from the 
 voice than close at hand. 
 
 I have observed, sitting in a coach with one side of the 
 boot down, and the other up, that a beggar crying on the 
 closed side of the coach hath seemed to cry on the open 
 side; so as the voice was plainly repercussed, and went 
 round, or at the least, whilst it sounded on all sides, it 
 seemed to be heard on that side, on which it did best reach 
 the sense. 
 
 If a candle be held to the wind-hole of a drum, and the 
 drum be beat, the flame is shaken and extinguished. The 
 same happens in winding of a hunter’s horn, if the candle 
 be brought near the mouth of the horn, &c. 
 
 Even the exquisite differences which sound takes, and 
 carries them with it, shew that these delicate affections are 
 not continued local motions. For seals, in a matter fitly 
 prepared, make exquisite impressions ; so as in the genera¬ 
 tion of sound this same, perhaps, might happen. But the 
 dilation and continuance sort not, especially in liquids : but 
 those exquisite differences we understand of articulate 
 voices and musical tones. 
 
 But of this matter altogether ( videlicet , what relation 
 and correspondency sound has to the local motion of the 
 air) let inquiry be more diligently made; not by the way, 
 
246 OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 whether ? (which sort of question in matters of this kind 
 has ruined all) but by the way, how far ? and that not by 
 arguments discursive, but by opposite experiments and 
 crucial instances. 
 
 OF THE COMMUNICATION OF THE AIR PERCUSSED AND 
 
 ELIDED WITH THE AMBIENT AIR, AND BODIES, OR 
 
 THEIR SPIRITS. 
 
 In the striking of a bell, the sound given by chiming 
 upon the bell with an hammer on the outside, and by the 
 tongue within, is of the same tone. So that the sound 
 yielded by the chiming upon the outside, cannot be gene¬ 
 rated by the collision of the air, between the hammer and 
 the outside of the bell, since it is according to the concave 
 of the bell within. And if it were a flat plate of brass, and 
 not concave, the sound should, I think, be different. 
 
 If there be a rift in a bell, it gives a hoarse sound, not 
 pleasant or grateful. 
 
 It would be known how the thickness of the percussed 
 body may affect the sound, and how far forth: as if of the 
 same concave, one bell should be thicker, another thinner. 
 I have proved in a bell of gold, that it gave an excellent 
 sound, nothing worse, yea better, than a bell of silver or of 
 brass. But money of gold rings not so well as money of 
 silver. 
 
 Empty casks yield a deep and resounding sound, full 
 ones a dull and dead sound. But in the viol, and the lute, 
 and other such, although the first percussion be between 
 the string and the exterior air, yet that air straight com¬ 
 municates with the air in the belly, or concave of the viol 
 or lute. Wherefore in instruments of this kind is ever 
 some perforation made, that the outward air may commu¬ 
 nicate with the confined air, without which the sound 
 would be dull and dead. 
 
 Let there be a trial made of the nightingale-pipe, that it 
 be filled with oil, and not with water; and let it be noted, 
 how much softer or more obtuse the sound shall be. 
 
 When sound is created between the breath and the per¬ 
 cussed air, as in a pipe, or flute, it is yet so produced, as it 
 hath some communication with the body of the flute, or 
 pipe. For there is one sound produced in a trumpet of 
 wood, another in one of brass; another, I judge, if the 
 trumpet were lined within, or perhaps even covered, on the 
 outside, with silk or cloth: one perchance if the trumpet 
 
OF SOUND AND HEARING. 
 
 247 
 
 were wet, another if dry. I conceive, likewise, in virginals, 
 or the viol, if the board upon which the strings are strained 
 were of brass, or of silver, it should yield a somewhat 
 different sound. But of all these things let there be better 
 inquiry. 
 
 Further, in respect of the communication, it would be 
 inquired, what the diversity and inequality of bodies may 
 do ; as if three bells should be made to hang, the one 
 within the other, with some space of air interposed, and the 
 outer bell were chimed upon with an hammer, what sound 
 it should give, in respect of a single bell. 
 
 Let a bell be covered on the outside with cloth or silk, 
 and let it be noted, when the bell is struck by the tongue 
 within, what that covering shall do to the sound. 
 
 If there were in a viol a plate of brass, or of silver, 
 pierced with holes, in place of that of wood, it would be 
 seen what this shall do to the sound. 
 
 There are used in Denmark, and are even brought hither, 
 drums of brass, not of wood, less than those of wood, and 
 they give, I think, a louder sound. 
 
 The agitation of the air by great winds shall not, I 
 think, yield much sound, if woods, waves, buildings, or the 
 like be away; yet is it received that, before tempests, there 
 be some murmurings made, in woods, albeit to the sense 
 the blast be not yet perceived, nor do the leaves stir, (a) 
 
 (a) Three chapters are deficient, which there wanted leisure to completing. 
 

 
 
 
 
 ■ 1 ' " • • • 
 
 . . 
 
 i . ; - < ' 
 
 ! > 
 
 . 
 
 , ■ 
 
 - 
 
 . 
 
 
 
 ' 
 
 , 
 
 i 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
SERMONES FIDELES, 
 
 SIVE 
 
 INTERIORA RERUM. 
 
ILLUSTRI ET EXCELLENTI DOMINO 
 
 GEORGIO, DUCI BUCKINGHAMIiE, 
 
 SUMMO ANGLIC ADMIRALLIO. 
 
 HONORATISSIME DOMINE, 
 
 Solomon inquit, “Nomen bonum est instar unguenti fra¬ 
 grantis et pretiosi;” neque dubito quin tale futurum sit 
 nomen tuum apud posteros. Etenim et fortuna, et merita 
 tua, praecelluerunt. Et videris ea plantasse quae sint dura¬ 
 tura. In lucem jam edere mihi visum est delibationes 
 meas, quae ex omnibus meis operibus fuerunt acceptissimae : 
 quia forsitan videntur, prae caeteris, hominum negotia strin¬ 
 gere, et in sinus fluere. Eas autem auxi, et numero, et 
 pondere; in tantum, ut plane opus novum sint. Con¬ 
 sentaneum igitur duxi, affectui, et obligationi meae, erga 
 illustrissimam dominationem tuam, ut nomen tuum illis 
 praefigam, tam in editione Anglica, quam Latina. Etenim, 
 in bona spe sum, volumen earum in Latinam, (linguam 
 scilicet universalem,) versum, posse durare, quandiu libri et 
 literae durent. Instaurationem meam Regi dicavi: His¬ 
 toriam regni Henrici Septimi, (quam etiam in Latinum 
 verti,) et portiones meas Naturalis historiae, Principi: has 
 autem delibationes illustrissimae dominationi tuae dico; 
 cum sint, ex fructibus optimis, quos gratia divina calami 
 mei laboribus indulgente, exhibere potui. Deus illustris¬ 
 simam dominationem tuam manu ducat. 
 
 Illustrissimae dominationis tuae 
 
 Servus devinctissimus et fidelis, 
 
SERMONES FIDELES. 
 
 I. DE VERITATE. 
 
 “Quid est veritas?” inquit Pilatus derisor; nec praestolari 
 voluit responsum. Certe sunt, qui cogitationum vertigine 
 delectantur; ac pro servitute habent, fide fixa aut axio¬ 
 matis constantibus, constringi; liberii arbitrii usum in 
 cogitando, non minus quam in agendo, affectantes. Cujus- 
 modi quidem sectae philosophorum licet defecerint; super¬ 
 sunt tamen ingenia quaedam ventosa et discursantia, quibus 
 eaedem omnino venae, licet non pari, cum antiquis, copia 
 sanguinis repletae. Verum, nec difficultas sola, laborque 
 quem homines subeunt, in veritate invenienda; nec quae 
 ex ea inventa cogitationibus imponitur captivitas, men¬ 
 daciis favorem conciliat; sed ipsius mendacii naturalis 
 (utcunque corruptus,) amor. E recentiore Graecorum 
 schola quidam, rem ad examen vocans, haeret attonitus; 
 dum excogitare nequit, quorsum mortales amarent men¬ 
 dacium, ipsius mendacii causa; cum nec voluptati sit, ut 
 mendacia poetarum; nec utilitati, ut illa mercatorum. 
 Sed nescio quomodo, veritas ista, (utpote nuda et manifesta 
 lux diurna,) personatas hujus mundi fabulas, ineptiasque, 
 non tam magnifice et eleganter ostendit, quam taedae, 
 lucernaeque nocturnae. Ad unionis, forsan, valorem, per¬ 
 venire poterit veritas, quae per diem speciosissima apparet: 
 sed ad pretium adamantis, aut carbunculi, qui lumine 
 vario pulcherrime splendent, nunquam ascendet. Mix¬ 
 tura mendacii voluptatem semper auget. Ecquis dubitat, 
 si e mentibus hominum tollerentur opiniones vanae, spes 
 blandae, aestimationes rerum falsae, imaginationes ad libi¬ 
 tum, et id genus alia, quin multorum animi relinquerentur 
 dejecti, et marcidi, atrae bilis et languoris pleni, as sibimet 
 ipsis ingrati ac displicentes? Patrum unus, magna cum 
 
252 
 
 DE VERITATE. 
 
 severitate, poesin appellat, vinum dsemonum; eo quod 
 phantasiam vanis impleat; licet poesis mendacii tantum 
 umbra sit. Verumtamen, non est mendacium, mentem 
 pertransiens, quod officit; sed mendacium, quod a mente 
 imbibitur, nempe ejus generis, de quo ante diximus. Verum 
 utcunque in depravatis hominum judiciis, et affectibus, haec 
 ita se habeant; veritas tamen, (quae sola se judicat,) docet; 
 veritatis inquisitionem, quae eam, proci instar, demeretur ; 
 veritatis cognitionem, quae presentem eam sistit; et veri¬ 
 tatis receptionem cum assensu, quae est ipsius fruitio et 
 amplexus; summum esse humanae naturae bonum. 
 
 Prima, in operibus sex dierum, creatura Dei, fuit lux 
 sensus; postrema, lux rationis; quin et opus ejus, sab- 
 batho, quod deinceps perpetuo exercet, est Spiritus sui 
 illuminatio. Primo inspiravit lumen in faciem materiae, 
 vel molis indigestae; postea in faciem hominis; quin et 
 usque semper lucem inspirat in faciem electorum. Poeta, 
 qui sectam, alioqui caeteris inferiorem, ornavit, elegan¬ 
 tissime dixit; “ Suave est in litore stanti videre naves fluc¬ 
 tibus exagitatas; suave ad arcis fenestram stanti, praelium 
 commissum, ejusque varios eventus, inferius spectare; sed 
 nulla voluptas aequiparari potest huic ipsi, nempe ut quis 
 stet super clivum excelsum veritatis” (collem certe inac¬ 
 cessibilem, ubi aer semper liquidus est, et serenus) “ atque 
 inde errores, homines palantes, caligines, et tempestates, 
 in convalle subjacente, despiciatmodo prospectus iste 
 cum misericordia conjunctus sit, non cum tumore, aut 
 superbia. Et hoc ipsum est coelo in terris frui, quando 
 mens humana in charitate movetur, in providentia quiescit, 
 et supra polos veritatis circumfertur. 
 
 Jam vero, ut a theologica et philosophica veritate, ad 
 veritatem, aut potius veracitatem in civilibus negotiis, 
 transeamus; agnoscent vel ipsi, qui eam non exercent, 
 apertam, et minime fucatam, in negotiis gerendis, rationem, 
 prsecipuum esse humanse naturae decus: mixturam autem 
 falsi similem esse plumbeae materiae, quae efficit sane ut 
 facilius cudi possit metallum, sed ita ut interim vilius fiat. 
 Nam flexuosi isti, et obliqui motus, serpentum sunt: qui 
 super ventrem suum gradiuntur, non pedibus incedunt. 
 Non est vitium, quod tanto hominem pudore obruit, quam 
 si falsus vel perfidus inveniatur. Itaque acutissime Mon- 
 taneus, rationem scrutatus, cur mendacii vocabulum, pro 
 tanto haberetur opprobrio, et contumelia; Si res recte 
 perpendatur, (inquit,) qui dicit hominem mentiri, eadem 
 opera dicit, eum adversus Deum audacem esse, adversus 
 
DE VERITATE. 
 
 253 
 
 homines timidum. Mendax enim, Deo insultat, homini se 
 incurvat. Certe, quam flagitiosa res sit, falsitas, et per¬ 
 fidia, nullo modo exprimi potest melius, quam quod istis, 
 (quasi ultimis clamoribus,) devocabuntur judicia Dei in 
 genus humanum.» Praedictum enim est, Christum in ad¬ 
 ventu suo secundo, “ non reperturum fidem super terram.” 
 
 II. DE MORTE. 
 
 Metuunt homines mortem, ut pueri tenebras. Quem¬ 
 admodum autem, metus iste naturalis, in pueris augetur, 
 fabulosis quibusdam terriculamentis, ita et ille alter. Sane, 
 mortis meditatio, prout mors stipendium est peccati, et ad 
 aliam vitam transitus, pia est et salubris; metus vero ejus, 
 ut est naturae debitum, res est infirma, et inanis. Inest 
 tamen nonnunquam piis meditationibus, fermentum aliquod 
 vanitatis, necnon superstitionis. Praecipitur in libris non¬ 
 nullis religiosorum, qui tractant de mortificatione, ut reco¬ 
 gitet secum homo, quantus sit dolor, cum vel minimus 
 digiti articulus torqueatur; atque inde aestimet, quantus 
 sit in morte cruciatus, ubi totum corpus corrumpitur, et 
 dissolvitur. Cum tamen mors saepenumero transeat minore 
 cum dolore, quam sentitur in tortura membri. Partes 
 enim maxime vitales non sunt maxime sensitivae. Nec 
 abs re dictum fuit, ab illo, qui locutus est ut philosophus 
 tantummodo, et homo animalis; “ Pompa mortis magis 
 terret, quam mors ipsagemitus et singultus, membrorum 
 convulsiones, oris pallor, amici flentes, et atrata funera, 
 cum similibus, haec sunt quae mortem ostentant terribilem. 
 Observatione plane dignum est, nullam esse animi passio¬ 
 nem tam debilem, quin superet, et in ordinem redigat 
 timorem mortis. Ideoque mors, non est hostis adeo for¬ 
 midabilis, cum tam multos habeat homo circa se athletas, 
 qui in certamine illam vincant. Ultio de morte triumphat; 
 amor eam parvi facit; honor ambit; metus ignominiae 
 elegit; moeror ad eam confugit; metus anticipat. Imo 
 legimus, quod postquam Otho imperator seipsum inter¬ 
 fecisset, ipsa misericordia, (quae affectus est omnium tener¬ 
 rimus,) multos provocarit ad commoriendum, ex mera animi 
 compassione erga dominum suum, ut fidissimos asseclas. 
 Quin et addit Seneca fastidium, et satietatem: “ Cogita 
 quam diu eadem feceris; mori velle non tantum fortis, aut 
 miser, sed etiam fastidiosus potest.” Nec minus observatu 
 dignum est, quantillam mutationem in animo generoso et 
 
254 
 
 DE MORTE. 
 
 forti, appropinquans mors efficere valeat; eosdem enim 
 gerunt homines illi spiritus, usque ad extremum momentum. 
 Mortuus est Augustus Caesar, voce certe urbana: “ Livia, 
 conjugii nostri memor, vive, et vale.” Tiberius inter dissi¬ 
 mulandum ; ita enim de illo Tacitus; “ Jam Tiberium vires, 
 et corpus, non dissimulatio, deserebant.” Vespasianus cum 
 scommate; exonerans enim se super sella: Ut puto Deus 
 fio. Galba cum gnoma: “ Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani 
 protendens simul collum. Septimius Severus, inter expe¬ 
 dienda negotia: “ Adeste, si quid mihi restat agendum.’' 
 Pariter et alii. Certe Stoici, nimium insumpserunt operae 
 in solatia mortis: etenim grandi suo, contra eam, apparatu, 
 effecerunt, ut terribilior videretur. Rectius ille, “ qui finem 
 vitae extremum inter munera ponit naturae.” iEque enim 
 est naturale hominibus mori, ac nasci; atque infans forsan, 
 non minorem sentit dolorem ex hoc, quam ex illo. Qui 
 moritur inter prosequendum magnum aliquod desiderium, 
 ita se habet, ut vulneratus, sanguine adhuc fervente, qui 
 plagam vix sentit. Itaque mens, in aliquod bonum fixa et 
 intenta, a doloribus mortis se subducit. Verum enimvero, 
 super omnia, suavissimum canticorum est illud, “ Nunc di¬ 
 mittis;” cum quis fines suos, et exspectationes honestas, 
 assecutus fuerit. Hoc item in se habet mors, ut bonae 
 famae januam aperiat, et livorem extinguat: 
 
 Extinctus amabitur idem. 
 
 III. DE UNITATE ECCLESIAE. 
 
 Cum religio sit praecipuum humanae societatis vinculum, 
 par est, ut et ipsa, debitis verae unitatis et charitatis vinculis, 
 astringatur. Dissidia circa religionem, mala erant, ethnicis 
 incognita. Nec mirum, cum religio ethnicorum posita 
 esset potius in ritibus, et cultu Deorum externo, quam in 
 constanti aliqua confessione, et fide. Facile enim est con¬ 
 jicere, cujusmodi fuerit illorum fides, cum praecipui ecclesiae 
 ipsorum doctores et patres, fuerint poetae. Inter attributa 
 autem veri Dei ponitur, quod sit Deus zelotypus: itaque 
 cultus ejus non fert mixturam, nec consortium. Quam- 
 obrem pauca quaedam de unitate in ecclesia dicemus. 
 Scilicet, qui sint ejus fructus, qui limites, quibus denique 
 modis concilietur. 
 
 Unitatis fructus praecipui, (praeterquam quod Deo summ£ 
 placeat, id quod ante omnia poni debet,) sunt duo. Alter 
 
DE UNITATE ECCLESIA. 
 
 255 
 
 respicit eos, qui extra ecclesiam sunt; alter eos, qui intra. 
 Quod ad priorem attinet, certum est, longe maxima in 
 ecclesia scandala, esse hseresses, et schismata; ut quae 
 etiam corruptelas morum superent. Quemadmodum enim 
 in corpore naturali, vulnera, et solutio continuitatis, genere 
 pejora sunt, quam humores putridi; similis est corporis 
 spiritualis ratio. Adeo ut nihil reperiatur, quod aeque 
 homines, ab ingressu in ecclesiam absterreat, aut jam re¬ 
 ceptos expellat, ac unitatis violatio. Itaque temporibus 
 quibus illud increbrescit, ut alii dicant, “ Ecce in deserto;” 
 alii, “ Ecce in penetralibus;” hoc est, dum quidam Christum 
 quaerunt in haereticorum conciliabulis, quidam in facie 
 ecclesiae externa, opus est prorsus, ut illa vox aures homi¬ 
 num quasi perpetuo feriat; Nolite exire. Doctor ille gen¬ 
 tium, cujus vocatio et missio, propria et demandata, ei 
 imposuit, ut eorum, qui extra ecclesiam fuerant, curam 
 gereret, inquit, “ Si ingrediatur coetus vestros infidelis quis¬ 
 piam, aut idiota, et vos variis loquentes linguis audiat, 
 annon vos insanire praedicabit ?” Neque sane, multo melius 
 se habet, cum athei, et homines profani, tantas, in reli¬ 
 gione, lites, et opinionum dimicationes, intueantur. Si¬ 
 quidem haec res ab ecclesia illos avertit, et in cathedra 
 derisorum sedere facit. Levius quiddam videatur, quam 
 ut in tractatu tam serio citetur, deformitatem tamen rei 
 egregie depingit. Insignis quidam jocandi artifex, in cata¬ 
 logo librorum bibliothecae cujusdam fabulosae, inter caeteros, 
 cum hac inscriptione, librum ponit: “ Saltationes florales, 
 et gesticulationes haereticorum.” Nemo enim est ex iis, qui 
 non peculiarem quendam motum corporis ridiculum, et 
 gestus deformitatem, exhibeat: unde fieri non potest, quin 
 homines carnales, et politici degeneres, subsannent, qui 
 facile in contemptum rerum sacrarum feruntur. Quantum 
 ad fructus unitatis, qui ad eos, qui intra sunt, redundat, is, 
 uno verbo, pax est, quae innumeras benedictiones com¬ 
 plectitur. Etenim fidem stabilit, charitatem accendit; 
 quin et externa ecclesiae pax in pacem internam conscientiae 
 sensim distillat; laboresque scribentium, et legentium con¬ 
 troversias, vertit in tractatus pietatis, et mortificationis. 
 
 Quantum ad terminos et limites unitatis, vera procul, 
 dubio et justa eorum collocatio; magni prorsus est, ad 
 omnia in religione, momenti. Duo autem in iis statuendis 
 videntur fieri excessus. Hominibus enim zelo fervidis, 
 omnis pacificationis mentio est odiosa; u Numnam pax, 
 Jehu? Quid tibi cum pace? Vade post me.” Quasi pax 
 nihil esset ad rem, sed sectae et partes. Contra, quidam 
 
256 
 
 DE UNITATE ECCLESIAS. 
 
 tanquam Laodicenses, in causis religionis tepidi, putant 
 capita religionis, nexu se commodo, colligare posse, per vias 
 medias, et opiniones utrinque participantes, et reconcilia¬ 
 tiones ingeniosas; ac si pro arbitris se gerere vellent, inter 
 Deum et homines. Uterque excessus vitandus; quod fiet, 
 si foedus inter Christianos, ab ipso Servatore nostro, de¬ 
 scriptum, in clausulis illis, quae primo intuitu, inter se 
 opponi videntur, perspicuam et planam interpretationem 
 sortiatur. “ Qui non nobiscum est, contra nos est;” et 
 
 rursus, “ Qui contra nos non est, nobiscum est.” Hoc est, 
 si capita religionis, plane essentialia et fundamentalia, rite 
 discernantur et distinguantur, a capitibus, quae non sunt ex 
 fide, sed ex opinione probabili, et intentione sancta, propter 
 ordinem, et ecclesiae politiam, sancitae. Hoc vero plurimis 
 videri possit, triviale quiddam, in quo quis actum agat: 
 verum si hoc ipsum, minore partium studio, fieret, majore 
 etiam consensu reciperetur. In hac re consilii nonnihil 
 impertiri visum est, pro captus nostri tenuitate. Videndum 
 est, ne homines ecclesiam Dei lacerent, per duo contro¬ 
 versiarum genera. Primum est, cum controversiae materia 
 levior est, nec tanta contentione, quanta circa eam exci¬ 
 tatur, digna; contradictione sola inflammata. Quemad¬ 
 modum enim acute, et eleganter notatum est, ab uno ex 
 patribus; “ Tunica Christi inconsutilis fuit, at vestis ecclesiae 
 versicolor.” Unde praecipit; “ In veste varietas sit, scissura 
 non sit.” Differunt enim haud parum inter se, unitas, et 
 uniformitas. Secundum est, cum materia quidem contro¬ 
 versiae pondus habet, sed ad nimiam subtilitatem ac ob¬ 
 scuritatem redacta est: adeo ut ingeniosa quaedam res esse 
 videatur, potius quam solida. Videmus quandoque fieri, 
 ut quis doctus, et intelligens, homines imperitos, de aliqua 
 quaestione inter se litigantes, audiat; atque perspicue ad¬ 
 vertat, eos idem re ipsa sentire, et in unum convenire, 
 quibus tamen ipsis nunquam fuisset aliquis dissidendi finis. 
 Quod si hoc nonnunquam eveniat, in exigua illa judicii 
 disparitate, quae inter homines esse potest; annon credere 
 par est, Deum in coelis, qui corda scrutatur et novit, satis 
 perspicere, nos homines fragiles, in aliquibus, de quibus 
 controversiam movemus, idem revera sentire, et in ambobus 
 benigne complacere. Hujusmodi controversiarum natura, 
 et character, optime a D, Paulo exprimitur, in monito illo 
 ac praecepto, quod circa illud adhibet: “ Devita profanas 
 vocum novitates, et oppositiones falsi nominis scientiae.” 
 Creant sibi homines oppositiones, quae revera nullae sunt, 
 easque in nova vocabula effingunt, et cudunt; que tam 
 
DE UNITATE ECCLESIAS. 
 
 257 
 
 fixa sunt et invariabilia, ut ubi sensus vocabulum regere 
 debeat, vocabulum imperet sensui. Sunt etiam, ut con¬ 
 troversiarum, ita unitatis, species duae; quae adulterinae 
 censeri possunt. Altera, cum pax ignorantiae tantum im¬ 
 plicitae innititur.' Coloribus enim omnibus in tenebris 
 bene convenit. Altera, quae consuta est et sarcita, ex po¬ 
 sitionibus ex diametro inter se contrariis, in capitibus 
 nimirum fundamentalibus. Veritas enim et falsitas, similes 
 sunt ferro et luto in digitis pedum, imaginis, quam in 
 somnis vidit Nebuchadnezzar; adhaerere sane possunt, in¬ 
 corporari non possunt. 
 
 Jam quatenus ad modos, per quos conciliatur unitas, 
 cavendum est hominibus, ne dum unitatem religionis pro¬ 
 curent et muniant, leges charitatis, et societatis solvant, et 
 demoliantur. Inter Christianos duo tantum recipiuntur 
 gladii, spiritualis nempe, et temporalis. Uterque autem 
 suum habet locum, et suo perfungitur munere, in religione 
 Christiana propugnanda, et protegenda. Sed neutiquam 
 arripiendus est gladius tertius, qui est Mahumetis, aut illi 
 similis; hoc est, ut religionem bello propagemus, aut cru¬ 
 entis persecutionibus, vim conscientiis inferamus; exceptis 
 casibus scandali aperti, et insolentis; blasphemiae, aut 
 machinationis adversus statum civilem: ne dum ut fove¬ 
 antur seditiones, animentur conjurationes, et rebelliones, 
 gladius in manus populi transferatur, et similia; quae 
 omnia manifesto tendunt, ad majestatem imperii minu¬ 
 endam, et auctoritatem magistratuum labefactandam ; cum 
 tamen omnis legitima potestas sit a Deo ordinata. Hoc 
 enim nihil aliud est, quam alteram ex tabulis legis, in 
 alteram allidere; et in tantum homines ut Christianos 
 intueri, ut interim obliti videamur, quod sint homines. Lu¬ 
 cretius poeta, cum sibi ante oculos poneret, Agamemnonem, 
 filiam propriam immolantem, exclamat, 
 
 <l Tantum religio potuit suadere malorum.” 
 
 Quid tandem dixisset, si ei laniena Parisiensis, aut conju¬ 
 ratio pulveraria in Anglia, innotuisset ? Certe septies factus 
 esset magis Epicureus, et atheus, quam fuit. Nam quem¬ 
 admodum gladius temporalis, non temere, sed magno cum 
 judicio, in casu religionis, stringendus est; ita monstri 
 simile est, eum in manus populi tradi. Sibi habeant hoc 
 anabaptistae, et hujusmodi furiae. Certe, insignis fuit illa 
 blasphemia, cum diceret diabolus, “ Ascendam, et ero similis 
 Altissimo;” sed adhuc major blasphemia fuerit, si quis 
 Deum introducat dicentem: “ Descendam, et ero similis 
 
 VOL. xv. s 
 
258 
 
 DE UNITATE ECCLESIAE. 
 
 principi tenebrarum.” Quid autem hoc ab illo differt, si 
 causa religionis descendat, et praecipitetur, ad crudelia et 
 execrabilia scelera, principes trucidandi, in populorum vitas 
 grassandi, et imperia funditus evertendi? Videter quidem 
 hoc perinde esse, ac si quis descendentem faciat Spiritum 
 Sanctum, in specie, non columbae, sed vulturis, aut corvi; 
 aut ex navi ecclesiae erigeret vexillum piratarum, et assassi- 
 norum: quocirca, justum est, et id ipsum necessitas tem¬ 
 porum flagitat, ut ecclesia doctrina sua, et decretis suis; 
 principes gladio; omnesque literae seu religiosae sint, seu 
 morales, caduceo suo; in barathrum inferni damnent, et 
 detrudant in secula, hujusmodi facta, et doctrinas iis auc¬ 
 toritatem aliquam tribuentes; ut magna ex parte jam 
 pridem factum est. Certe optandum esset, ut in omnibus 
 circa religionem consiliis, ante oculos hominum praefige¬ 
 retur monitum illud apostoli: “ Ira hominis non implet jus¬ 
 titiam Dei.” Atque ut verum dicamus, optime, et pru¬ 
 dentissime observatum est, ab uno ex patribus, profundae 
 sapientiae viro, nec minus ingenue, et sincere, ab eodem 
 prolatum, et evulgatum: “ Eos, qui conscientias premi, 
 iisque vim inferri suadent, sub illo dogmate, cupiditates 
 suas subtexere, illamque rem sua interesse, putare.” 
 
 IV. DE VINDICTA. 
 
 Vindicta agrestis quaedam justitia est; quae quo magis 
 humana natura serpit, eo fortius legibus severis est evel¬ 
 lenda. Etenim injuria illata, legem tantummodo violat; 
 at reposita, legem auctoritate sua plane spoliat. Certe, in 
 vindicanda injuria, aequalem se quis inimico suo sistit; in 
 remittenda vero, superiorem: regium enim est, ignoscere. 
 Equidem memini dixisse Solomonem, “ Honori est homini 
 offensas praeterire.” Quod jam praeteriit, in integrum res¬ 
 titui non potest; at prudentes sat habent praesentia et 
 futura curare. Nugantur igitur, et se frustra conturbant, 
 qui praeteritarum rerum satagunt. Injuriam nemo, injuriae 
 ipsius causa, infert; verum, ut ex ea, lucri aliquid, aut 
 voluptatis, aut honoris, sibi conciliet: cur igitur cuipiam 
 succenseam, quod se potius quam me diligat? Quod si 
 quis ex malignitate mera sit injuriosus; quid tum? etiam 
 spina et rubus pungunt et lacerant, quia natura sua utun¬ 
 tur. Vindictae praecipue excusationem merentur, in iis 
 injuriis, de quibus lege cautum non est. At simul pros- 
 piciat quis, ut genus vindictae, ejusmodi sit, quod non sit 
 
DE VINDICIA. 
 
 259 
 
 legi obnoxium. Alias ipse sibi poenam conduplicat, inimicus 
 vero lucrum facit. Sunt, qui inter sumendam vindictam, 
 cupiunt, ut laesi intelligant, unde malum illud sibi ingruerit. 
 Nempe generosior est iste affectus: siquidem videntur illi, 
 non tam ipsa ultione delectari, quam ut laesum facti sui 
 poeniteat. At vili ingenio praediti, et malitiosi, instar sa¬ 
 gittarum sunt, quae per tenebras volant. Magnus dux 
 Florentiae Cosmus, acutissimum telum vibravit in amicos 
 perfidos, aut incuriosos. “ Legimus (inquit) et mandatum 
 habemus, ut inimicis nostris ignoscamus; at nuspiam legi¬ 
 tur, astringi nos, ad ignoscendum amicisverum Spiritus 
 Job loquitur meliora: “ Numnam (inquit) de manu Dei bona 
 accipiemus, neque mala itidem quandoque sustinebimus ?” 
 Quod etiam, aliquo modo, de amicis dici par est. Hoc cer¬ 
 tissimum est, hominem qui vindictae studet, sua vulnera 
 refricare, quae alias, sibi relicta, sanari et consolidari po¬ 
 tuissent. Ultiones publicae, maxima ex parte; prospere 
 cedunt: quales erant, propter caedem Caesaris, caedem Per¬ 
 tinacis, caedem Henrici quarti magni illius Galliae regis, et 
 aliorum complurium. At in vindictis privatis hoc minime 
 tenet. Quin potius, homines vindicativi vitam fere agunt 
 veneficarum, quae ut aliis sunt exitiabiles, ita ipsae ple- 
 runque exitum infaustum sortiuntur. 
 
 V. DE REBUS ADVERSIS. 
 
 Grande prorsus sonabat Seneca, more Stoicorum, cum 
 diceret: “ Bona rerum secundarum optabilia, adversarum 
 mirabilia.” Certe si miracalum recte ponatur illud, quod 
 naturam superat, cernuntur miracula, maxime in calami¬ 
 tatibus. At priorem illam sententiam magniloquentia supe¬ 
 rat, alterum ex ejus dictis; et excelsius quiddam est, quam 
 ethnico conveniat. “ Vere magnum habere fragilitatem 
 hominis, securitatem Dei.” Sane hoc dictum in poesi fuisset 
 tolerabilius, ubi transcendentia ista magis probantur. Ac 
 ut verum dicamus, poetae hoc intactum non reliquerunt. 
 Eadem enim fere res est, quae adumbratur, in portentoso 
 ilio poetarum antiquorum commento, quod mysterio vide¬ 
 tur non carere; imo et statum Christianum non obscure 
 referre; nimirum de Hercule; qui cum ad solvenda Pro¬ 
 methei vincula proficisceretur (in Prometheo autem figura 
 naturae humanae repraesentatur); oceani longitudinem in 
 poculo figulino emensus est; ubi ad vivum Christiana 
 constantia depingitur, quae in fragili carnis testa, per mundi 
 
260 
 
 DE REBUS ADVERSIS. 
 
 fluctus, undique circumfusos, navigat. Verum ut a grandi¬ 
 tate verborum, ad mediocritatem descendamus. Rerum 
 secundarum praecipua virtus est temperantia, adversarum, 
 fortitudo ; quae in moralibus reputatur pro virtute maxime 
 heroica. Quin et res prosperae, ad Veteris Testamenti 
 benedictiones, adversae, ad Novi beatitudines, pertinent: 
 quae, et reipsa majores sunt, et clariorem divini favoris 
 revelationem exhibent. Attamen etiam in Veteri Testa¬ 
 mento, si lyrae Davidis aures praebeas, plures invenias 
 threnos, quam exultationes: Spiritus autem sancti calamus, 
 diffusius tractavit, Jobi afflictiones, quam felicitatem Solo- 
 monis. Res prosperae non sine plurimis timoribus et 
 molestiis transeunt; adversae itidem suis solatiis, et spe 
 non vacant. Videmus certe in acupictis, melius placere, 
 cum imagines coloris lucidioris sunt, stamen autem telae, 
 coloris magis opaci, quam cum stamen ipsum splendidius 
 est, imagines autem tenebrosiores. Judicium igitur capi 
 potest, quid cordi magis volupe sit, ex eo quod oculos 
 magis delectat. Habet certe virtus simile quiddam odora¬ 
 mentis quibusdam pretiosis, quae fragrantissima sunt, aut 
 incensa, aut tusa. Nam fortuna prospera potissimum vitia 
 hominum indicat, adversa virtutes. 
 
 VI. DE DISSIMULATIONE ET SIMULATIONE. 
 
 Dissimulatio est artium civilium compendium quoddam, 
 et pars infirmior: etenim, et ingenium acre, et robur animi 
 constans ad hoc requiritur, ut quis sciat, quando verum 
 proferendum sit, atque id facere audeat. Itaque inter 
 inferiores politicos reponuntur, qui magni sunt simulatores. 
 
 Quod discrimen, bene apud Tacitum, Caesarem Augustum 
 inter, et Tiberium, adnotatum est. Etenim de Livia sic 
 ait: quod esset “ Cum artibus mariti, et simulatione filii, 
 bene composita. Artes imperii Augusto, simulationem 
 Tiberio” attribuens. Idem alibi hisce verbis, Mucianum 
 inducit, Vespasianum ad arma contra Vitellium sumenda 
 hortantem: Non adversus Augusti acerrimam mentem, nec 
 adversus Tiberii cautissimam senectutem, insurgimus. Quare 
 hae facultates, artium civilium, et simulationum, sunt prorsus 
 distinguendae. Esto igitur, ut sit felicis ita quisquam 
 acuminis, tantaeque perspicaciae, ut distinguere queat, quae 
 palam facienda, quae occultanda, quae tanquam in crepus¬ 
 culo producenda, temporum etiam et personarum ratione 
 pensitata (quae revera artes sunt politicae et civiles, ut 
 
DE DISSIMULATIONE ET SIMULATIONE. 261 
 
 Tacitus eas recte appellat,) huic dissimulatio impedimento 
 erit. Quod siquis, ad hunc judicii et discretionis gradum, 
 ascendere non valeat, ei relinquitur tanquam tutissimum, 
 ut sit tectus, et dissimulator. Ubi enim in singulis non 
 datur eligere, ibi in omnibus caute insistere tutissimum 
 est; caecutientibus enim lente movendum. Sane ubique 
 reperias homines rerum tractandarum peritissimos, omnes 
 fere candorem, ingenuitatem, et veracitatem, in negotiis 
 prae se tulisse: verum simul erant, tanquam equi, bene 
 docti et domiti, qui subito se sistere, et se vertere, norant. 
 Quod si necessitas quaedam ingruat, dissimulationem pro¬ 
 fundam postulans, tunc quidem opinio et fama de bona 
 fide et veracitate eorum, praeconcepta, eos reddit prorsus 
 invisibiles. 
 
 Consilia et mentem tegendi, aut velandi, gradus sunt 
 tres. Primus est, taciturnitas, cum quis sensus animi sui 
 premit, adeoque relinquit in aequilibrio, ut in quam partem 
 propendeat, nemo facile conjecerit. Secundus dissimulatio 
 in negativa, cum quis ex composito signa quaedam et 
 indicia jacit, se non eum esse, qui revera est. Tertius 
 simulatio in affirmativa, cum quis aperte fingit et praetexit, 
 se cum esse, qui revera non est. 
 
 Quantum ad primum horum, taciturnitatem scilicet; ea 
 est certe virtus confessoris. Atque profecto, vir taciturnus 
 multas audit confessiones ; quis enim garrulo, et loquaci, 
 pectus suum recludet? Quod si quis famam habeat viri 
 taciturni, facile aliorum animos reserabit; sicut aer clausus 
 apertum sugit: atque veluti delicta confiteri, non ad ali¬ 
 quem finem collimat, qui ad res civiles tendit, sed ad 
 conscientiam sublevandam: ita certe homines taciturni, ad 
 multarum rerum notitiam, simili de causa, perveniunt; dum 
 homines, non tam impertire, quam exonerare animum suum 
 cupiant. Ut paucis dicamus, mysteria silentibus debentur. 
 Praeterea, si verum loquamur, etiam in animo, aeque ac in 
 corpore, deformis et invenusta est nuditas: neque parvam 
 addit reverentiam, consiliis et factis hominum, si minus 
 pateant. At loquaces et futiles, etiam plerunque leves 
 sunt, et creduli. Qui enim eloquitur quae scit, effutiet 
 etiam quae nescit. Ponatur igitur pro certo, habitum taci¬ 
 turnitatis virtutem esse politicam et moralem. Sed et illud 
 addendum est, bonum esse homini, ut vultus suus linguae 
 officium non praeripiat. Nam, revelatio animi ex vultu, 
 aut gestu, magnus est defectus, et quaedam quasi proditio: 
 eo magis, quod saepenumero, plus notatur, et fidem facit, 
 quam verba. 
 
262 DE DISSIMULATIONE ET SIMULATIONE. 
 
 Quantum ad secundum, dissimulationem scilicet: ex 
 necessitate quadam illa taciturnitatem sequitur. Adeo ut 
 qui tectus esse vult, dissimulator aliquatenus vel nolens 
 evadat. Etenim astutiores sunt homines, quam ut pati¬ 
 antur aliquem in aequilibrio se continere absque aliqua in 
 alteram partem inclinationis suae declaratione. Ita quaes¬ 
 tionibus subtilibus eum obsidebunt, et allicient, et excutient, 
 ut, nisi obfirmato et absurdo silentio se quis muniat, necesse 
 ei fuerit, se nonnihil prodere: quinetiam si hoc non fecerit, 
 ex silentio ipso, aliquid conjecturae capient, non minus, quam 
 ex verbis. Quod vero ad aequivocationes, et oracula ver¬ 
 borum attinet, non poterunt illa diu valere. Ita ut nemo 
 tectus esse queat, nisi aliquem dissimulationis gradum sibi 
 indulgeat: quae nihil aliud est, quam silentii quaedam 
 appendix, aut limbus. 
 
 Quantum vero ad tertium gradum; nimirum simula¬ 
 tionem, et professionem falsam; illam magis vitiosam, et 
 minus politicam, duco; nisi forte dignus vindice nodus 
 inciderit. Itaque perpetua consuetudo simulandi, vitium 
 est, aut ex ingenii lubricitate quadam, vel timiditate, 
 ortum; aut etiam, ex animi constitutione, quae vitio aliquo 
 magno imbuta est: quod, quia occultare oportet, simula¬ 
 tionem etiam in aliis adhibere et exercere efficit, ne forte 
 habitus ipse intercidat. 
 
 Commoda simulationis et dissimulationis tria. Primum 
 est, quod oppositionem amoliatur, et homines imparatos 
 aggrediatur, ubi enim consilia cujuspiam evulgata fuerint, 
 adversarii, veluti tuba, excitantur. Secundum est, quod 
 in hominis potestate relinquit, ut pedem referat, et se 
 absque existimationis suae jactura de negotio subducat. 
 Si quis enim, se manifesta declaratione obstringit, is cuneis 
 quasi impactis includitur; aut pergendum est ei, aut tur¬ 
 piter desistendum. Tertium est, quod ad aliena consilia 
 detegenda viam aperiat. Etenim ei, qui sua consilia profert, 
 non facile quis se adversarium profiteatur; verum assenta¬ 
 bitur potius; et libertatem loquendi, in libertatem cogitandi, 
 vertet. Itaque habetur apud Hispanos satis malignum 
 adagium : “ Dic mendacium et veritatem erues.” Perinde 
 ac si simulatio clavis esset ad secreta reseranda. Tria 
 etiam sunt simulationis et dissimulationis incommoda, ut 
 ex sequo res compensetur. Primum, quod illa timiditatem 
 arguant: id quod omnibus negotiis, plumas vellit, ne per¬ 
 niciter ad metam advolent. Secundum, quod in ancipites 
 cogitationes animos complurium conjiciant, qui fortasse 
 alias cooperaturi fuissent, et studio suo rem promoturi; 
 
DE DISSIMULATIONE ET SIMULATIONE. 263 
 
 unde sine socia et amica opera ad fines suos solus quis 
 ambulet. Tertium est, (idque maximum,) quod praecipuo 
 ad actiones organo, hominem privet; nimirum fide. Opti¬ 
 mum fuerit temperamentum, si quis veracitatis famam 
 obtineat, taciturnitatis habitum, dissimulationis usum tem¬ 
 pestivum, et facultatem simulationis, ubi opus fuerit. 
 
 VII. DE PARENTIBUS ET LIBERIS. 
 
 Gaudia parentum occulta sunt; nec minus dolores eorum, 
 et metus. Illa certe verbis assequi nequeunt, hos autem 
 proferre nolunt. Certe liberi labores humanos suaviores, 
 verum infortunia amariora, reddunt. Curas vitae multi¬ 
 plicant, sed memoriam mortis mitigant. iEternitas sobolis 
 etiam brutis communis est; sed illa memoriae, meritorum, 
 et operum, propria est hominibus. Atque videre sane est, 
 opera nobilissima, et fundationes, ab orbis profecta; quibus 
 effigies animorum exhibere curae erat, cum corporis ima¬ 
 ginibus destituerentur. Adeo ut posteritati maxime stu¬ 
 deant, qui posteritate carent. Qui honores in familiam 
 suam primi introducunt, erga liberos indulgentissimi sunt: 
 intuentur siquidem eos, non tantum ut continuationem 
 speciei suae, sed ut rerum a se gestarum haeredes: ideoque 
 ut liberos et creaturas. 
 
 Gradus affectuum in parentibus erga liberos diversos, 
 saepe dispares sunt, aliquando iniqui: ac potissimum 
 in matre. Unde Solomon dicit: “Filius sapiens laetificat 
 patrem: filius vero stultus moestitiae est matri suae.” In 
 domo fcecunda, et liberorum plena, cernere quandoque est, 
 unum aut alterum ex senioribus pluris aestimari; atque ex 
 junioribus in deliciis esse: sed in medio fortasse aliquos 
 quasi oblivione transiri: qui nihilominus, haud raro, op¬ 
 timae indolis evadunt. Illiberalitas parentum erga liberos 
 suos error est plane noxius; nam eos reddit animo dege¬ 
 neres ; fallaciis deditos; ignobilium consortio se delec¬ 
 tantes : magisque ad luxum propensos, quando rerum 
 copiam adepti sint. Itaque optime succedit, quando 
 parentes suam, apud liberos, auctoritatem tuentur, cru¬ 
 menam laxant. Invaluit, tam apud parentes, quam paeda¬ 
 gogos et famulos, mos quidem ineptus, aemulationes inter 
 fratres serendi, et alendi, durante eorum pueritia; quae 
 saepenumero in discordias evadunt, post aetatem virilem, 
 et familias turbant. Itali non magnum ponunt discrimen, 
 inter liberos, et nepotes, aut cognatos; sed, modo sint e 
 
264 
 
 DE PARENTIBUS ET LIBERIS. 
 
 massa sanguinis, non multum pensi habent, utrum sint 
 corpore proprio editi, necne ? Atque si verum dicendum 
 sit, in natura non multum interest ; adeo ut saepe videamus, 
 nepotem avunculo magis similem, aut cognato, quam 
 parenti proprio, prout sanguis casu quodam derivatur. 
 Curent parentes, in tenera aetate filiorum suorum, cui vitae 
 generi illos destinent: tum enim maxime sunt flexibiles, 
 et cerei. Neque in bac electione respiciant nimis incli¬ 
 nationem filiorum ipsorum; quasi illud melius arrepturi 
 sint, ad quod maxime videntur propensi. Verum est, si 
 affectus, aut aptitudo puerorum, sit erga aliquod studium 
 insignis, non expedire, ut quis naturae, aut indoli repugnet: 
 sed, ut plurimum praeceptum illud sanum est: “ Optimum 
 elige, suave et facile illud faciet consuetudo.” Fratres 
 juniores plerunque sunt fortunae filii: sed raro, aut nun¬ 
 quam, prosperum sortiuntur exitum, quando exbaeredantur 
 seniores. 
 
 VIII. DE NUPTIIS ET CCELIBATU. 
 
 Qui uxorem duxit, et liberos suscepit, obsides fortunae 
 dedit; sunt enim magnorum conatuum impedimenta; sive 
 ad virtutem tendat quis, sive ad improbitatem: certe 
 praestantissima (ut alibi diximus) in usum reipublicae opera, 
 et merita, a viris profecta sunt, prole carentibus; qui tam 
 affectu, quam fortunis, rempublicam connubio sibi junxe¬ 
 runt, et dotarunt. Attamen rationi videatur magis consen¬ 
 taneum, ut qui liberos relinquunt, majorem futurorum 
 temporum curam gererent; ad quae satis norunt, cbarissima 
 illa sua pignora oportere transmitti. Sunt tamen, qui 
 licet, liberis careant, tamen memoriae suae incuriosi sunt, 
 et cogitationes vitae tantum curriculo terminant, et tempora 
 futura ut ad se nihil pertinentia, ducunt. Imo et alii 
 nonnulli, uxorem et liberos, tantum in rationibus expen¬ 
 sarum habent. Quinetiam reperiuntur aliqui fatui avari, 
 qui gloriantur fere se liberis carere, ut habeantur tanto 
 ditiores. Audiverunt scilicet aliquos dicentes, “ Talis 
 quispiam est ditissimusalios autem subinferentes, “ At 
 liberis compluribus oneratur:” quasi divitiarum hoc esset 
 decrementum. Verum coelibatus causa maxime frequens, 
 est libertas; praesertim, in quibusdam animis sibi compla¬ 
 centibus et phantasticis; qui omnis restrictionis sensum 
 nacti sunt tam acutum, ut cingula et periscelidas fere 
 habeant pro vinculis et compedibus. Viri coclibes optimi 
 
DE NUPTIIS ET CCELIBATU. 
 
 265 
 
 sunt amici, optimi erga servos domini, servi etiam erga 
 dominos optimi; at non semper subditi optimi; sunt enim 
 ad fugam expediti; atque revera transfugae fere omnes 
 sunt ejus conditionis. Vita ccelebs ecclesiasticis bene 
 convenit: non enim facile quis irriget solum, si prius 
 stagni alicujus receptaculum interveniat. Judicibus et 
 magistratibus res est fere indifferens: si enim faciles sint, 
 et corruptelis dediti, servum aliquem videas uxore, multis 
 modis, ad hujusmodi lucra captanda, deteriorem. Quod 
 ad milites attinet, reperio certe duces, apud exercitus suos 
 concionantes, illis in memoriam redigere solere, charitates 
 uxorum et liberorum. Reperio etiam nuptiarum contemp¬ 
 tum apud Tureas milites vulgares reddere viliores. Sunt 
 certe porro, uxor et liberi, disciplina quaedam humanitatis ; 
 atquae coelibes, etsi saepenumero magis sint munifici et 
 charitativi, quia fortunae eorum minus exhauriantur; sunt 
 tamen, ex altera parte, magis crudeles, et sine visceribus 
 (idonei qui sint severi inquisitores) quia indulgentia et 
 teneritudo affectuum suorum non tam saepe evocatur, et 
 excitatur. Naturae graves, et consuetudine ductae, ideoque 
 constantes, sunt plerunque uxoriae: ut de Ulysse perhi¬ 
 betur: “ Vetulam suam praetulit immortalitati.” Mulieres 
 castae sunt plerunque superbae, et protervae, merito pudi¬ 
 citiae suae elatae. Inter vincula praestantissima castitatis, 
 et obsequii uxoris erga maritum, illud censeri debet, si 
 virum suum uxor prudentem putet; quod nunquam faciet, 
 si eum inveniat zelotypum. Uxores, juvenum dominae 
 sunt; mediae aetatis, sociae; senum, nutrices. Adeo ut 
 adsit ansa ad uxorem ducendam ; aetatibus singulis. Inter 
 sapientes tamen numeratus est ille, qui interrogatus : 
 “ Quod esset tempus opportunum nuptiarum?” respondit: 
 “ Juvenibus non adhuc, senibus non omnino.” Saepe fit, 
 ut mariti deteriores bonas habeant uxores: sive hoc fiat, 
 quod hoc modo pretium addatur mariti benevolentiae, per 
 vices; sive quod uxores in patientia sua glorientur. Hoc 
 autem nunquam fallit, si hujusmodi mariti, ab uxoribus 
 ipsis expetiti et electi fuerint, contra consensum amicorum : 
 tunc enim, animus iis semper adest, ut stultitiae suae poeni¬ 
 tere non videantur. 
 
266 
 
 IX. DE INVIDIA. 
 
 Ex affectibus nulli sunt, qui existimantur fascinare, praeter 
 amorem et invidiam. Uterque acria progignit desideria ; 
 uterque se perniciter efformat in phantasias, et sugges¬ 
 tiones ; atque uterque facile inscendit in oculos, (praecipue 
 quando objectum adest); quae omnia ad fascinationem 
 faciunt; si modo fascinatio aliqua sit. Videmus etiam, 
 Scripturam, invidiam, oculi mali nomine, insignire; atque 
 astrologos, malos astrorum influxus, malignos aspectus, 
 vocare. Ita ut, agnosci ab omnibus videatur, in invidia, 
 ejusque operatione, ejaculatio quaedam, et irradiatio ex 
 oculis. Quin et nonnulli, tam extiterunt curiosi, ut nota¬ 
 verint tempora, quibus ictus et percussio oculi invidi, 
 plurimum obest, tum preecipue esse, cum persona, in quam 
 invidia torquetur, spectatur in gloria et triumpho: etenim 
 hoc mucronem invidiae acuit; atque insuper illis tempori¬ 
 bus, spiritus personae invisae prodeunt maxime in exteriora, 
 unde ictui occurrunt. 
 
 Verum, missis istis rebus curiosis, (licet non indignis, 
 quae in considerationem veniant, sed loco idoneo,) tracta¬ 
 bimus haec tria; qui sint ad invidendum maxime proclives; 
 qui sint invidiae maxime obnoxii; et quae sit differentia 
 inter invidiam publicam et privatam. 
 
 Qui virtutis ipse expers est, invidet virtuti alterius. 
 Etenim animi hominum se pascunt et delectantur, aut 
 bono proprio, aut malo alieno; quique primo alimento 
 caret, satiabit se secundo; et qui nullo modo sperat se ad 
 virtutem alterius pervenire posse, ipse fortunam ejus liben¬ 
 ter deprimit, ut minor intercedat disparitas. 
 
 Vir curiosus, et se alienis rebus immiscens, ut plurimum, 
 invidus est. Etenim, de rebus alienis multum inquirere, 
 neutiquam eo spectare possit, quod operosa illa sedulitas 
 suis rebus conducat: itaque fieri non potest, quin hujus¬ 
 modi vir, scenicam quandam voluptatem capiat, aliorum 
 fortunas spectandi: neque, qui rebus propriis tantum in¬ 
 tentus est, segetem invidiae multam reperiet. Invidia 
 enim passio est cursitans, et plateas terit, nec domi se 
 continet: “ Non est curiosus, quin idem sit malevolus/’ 
 
 Viri natalibus nobiles, invidiae erga novos homines, notam 
 subeunt. Etenim mutatur intervallum. Et simile est hoc 
 deceptioni visus; cum res retrocedere videantur, aliis se 
 promoventibus. 
 
 Deformes, et ennuchi, et senes, et spurii, invidi sunt. 
 
DE INVIDIA. 
 
 267 
 
 Etenim qui conditionem suam, emendare nullo modo po¬ 
 test ; conditionem alterius pro viribus suis labefactabit. 
 Nisi forte hi defectus, in generosa et heroica ingenia, inci¬ 
 derint, quse defectus proprios naturales in honoris sui 
 incrementum vertere nitantur; scilicet, ut fama hoc arripiat, 
 eunuchum, aut claudum, tam magna perpetrasse; miraculi 
 nimirum honore affectato. Id quod evenit Narseti eunucho, 
 et Agesilao, atque Tamberlani, qui claudi fuerunt. 
 
 Eadem fere ratio est hominum, qui e calamitatibus re¬ 
 surgunt. Sunt enim plerunque temporibus infensi; atque 
 alienas calamitates, tanquam suarum molestiarum redemp¬ 
 tiones, gustant. 
 
 Qui in plurimis excellere contendunt, levitate, et gloria 
 vana moti, necesse est ut sint invidi. Ubique enim oc¬ 
 currunt objecta invidiae : cum fieri nequeat, quin aliqui in 
 tot rebus illos superent. Qui fuit character imperatoris 
 Adriani, qui poetas, et pictores, et opifices alios, in iis 
 scilicet operibus, quibus ipse praecellere gestiebat, capitali 
 quadam invidia prosequebatur. 
 
 Postremo propinqui, et collegae, et una educati, ad invi¬ 
 dendum aequalibus, cum evehuntur, proni sunt. Etenim, 
 exprobrat hoc illis fortunam propriam, eosque quasi digito 
 monstrat, et frequenter eorum memoriam vellicat; quine- 
 tiam in aliorum notam haec fortunae collatio magis incurrit. 
 Invidia autem, a fama et sermonibus, semper reflectitur, et 
 conduplicatur. Unde invidia Cainis erga fratrem Abelem 
 malignior fuit, quia cum sacrificium Abelis magis acceptum 
 Deo fuit, nemo inspexit. Atque haec de iis, qui ad invi¬ 
 dendum proclives sunt. 
 
 Quantum ad illos, qui invidiae, magis aut minus obnoxii 
 sunt; primo, iis, qui eminente virtute praediti sunt, minus 
 invidetur, cum promoventur: promotio enim eorum videtur 
 ex debito; debiti autem solutioni nemo invidet, sed largi¬ 
 tioni supra meritum. Atque etiam invidia non sine com¬ 
 paratione est; ubi autem nullus comparationis gradus, 
 nulla invidia; itaque regibus non invidetur, nisi a regibus. 
 Illud tamen observatione dignum est, personis indignis, 
 sub primum honoris sui ascensum, maxime invideri; postea 
 vero minus; ubi contra personae dignae, et meritis insignes, 
 invidiam tum demum experiuntur, postquam fortunae eorum 
 diutius duraverint. Etenim, licet virtus eorum eadem ma¬ 
 neat, tamen minus fit illustris: recentes enim oboriantur 
 homines, qui eam obscurant. 
 
 Nobiles genere minus invidiae expositi sunt, cum hono¬ 
 ribus cumulantur: etenim nihil aliud videtur, quam debitum 
 
268 
 
 DE INVIDIA. 
 
 majoribus suis repensum: praeterea, parum fortunae eorum 
 additum videtur; invidia autem, more radiorum solis, in 
 clivo ardentior est, quam in plano. Itaque eandem ob 
 causam, qui per gradus evehuntur, minorem subeunt invi¬ 
 diam, quam qui per saltum. 
 
 Qui cum honoribus suis conjunctos habent labores 
 magnos, curas, et pericula, invidia minus laborant. Etenim 
 existimant homines, eos, honores suos, caro pretio emere, 
 et misereri potius ipsorum nonnunquam incipiunt: miseri¬ 
 cordia autem semper fere sanat invidiam. Itaque notabis 
 plerunque, ex viris politicis, et honore fulgentibus, magis 
 sanos et sobrios, semper querimonias fundere, qualem vitam 
 traducunt: canentes illud, Quanta patimur! non quod ita 
 sentiant, sed quo invidiae aciem retundant. Verum hoc 
 intelligi debet, de negotiis, quae hujusmodi viris imponuntur, 
 non de iis quae ipsi ad se attrahunt. Nihil enim invidiam 
 magis suscitat, quam ambitiosum et immodicum negotiorum 
 monopolium: nihilque e converso, invidiam extinguit 
 magis, quam si quis in summis honoribus constitutus, aliis 
 officiariis inferioribus, nihil detrahat. Hoc enim modo, 
 quot illi ministri sunt, tot se tegit umbraculis ab invidia. 
 
 Super omnia, illi invidiam in se concitant maxime, qui 
 fortunarum suarum amplitudinem, insolenter et tumide 
 ostentant; nunquam sibi placentes, nisi dum potentiam 
 suam jactent, vel per pompam exteriorem, vel triumphando 
 de adversariis, aut competitoribus suis dejectis : ubi contra, 
 viri prudentes sacrificare quandoque invidiae ament, de 
 industria interdum permittentes se vinci, in rebus, quae 
 minus eis cordi sunt. Nihilominus, illud verum est, po¬ 
 tentiae ostentationem apertam, et indissimulatam, (modo 
 absit arrogantia et gloria inanis,) minore invidia laborare, 
 quam si callide et quasi furtim se notae subtrahat. Etenim, 
 hoc cum fit, nihil aliud facit quis, quam ut fortunam insi¬ 
 mulet, quasi ipse sibi esset conscius indignitatis suae; 
 unde alios ad sibi invidendum stimulat. 
 
 Postremo, ut huic parti finem imponamus; quemad¬ 
 modum in principio diximus, invidiae actum aliquid habere 
 in se ex veneficio; ita non alia est invidiae curatio, quam 
 quae solet esse veneficii, et incantationis: hoc est, sortis 
 translatio, (ut vocant,) et in alium remotio. Ad quem 
 finem, prudentiores ex honoratis, semper in scenam in¬ 
 troducunt aliquem, in quem invidiam, in se alias incur¬ 
 suram, derivent: quandoque in ministros et servos, quan¬ 
 doque in collegas et socios; aut in alios quosdam eam re¬ 
 jicientes. Neque, ad Iiulic usum, unquam desunt personae 
 
DE INVIDIA. 
 
 269 
 
 aliquae violentae et temerariae; quae, modo potentiam et 
 negotia agitent, ea quovis periculo mercari non dubitent. 
 
 Jam vero, ut de publica invidia loquamur. Ea saltem 
 aliquid in se habet boni, ubi in privata invidia nihil prorsus 
 inest boni. Publica enim invidia, instar salubris ostra- 
 cismi est, qui viros magnos, supra modum excrescentes, 
 coercet; unde etiam fraeno est viris praepotentibus, ne se 
 nimium efferant. 
 
 Haec invidia, quae mala contentatio, modernis linguis 
 appellatur, (et in titulo De seditionibus plenius tractabitur,) 
 est in regnis et rebuspublicis contagioni non absimilis. 
 Etenim sicut contagio in sanas partes serpit, easque cor¬ 
 rumpit; ita etiam, quando invidia statum occupaverit, vel 
 optima reipublicae mandata et instituta, in odium vertit, 
 et graveolentiam quandam. Itaque, parum proficitur inter¬ 
 miscendo actiones gratas et populares, odiosis; etenim hoc 
 ipsum imbecilitatem et invidiae metum arguit; quae tanto 
 magis nocet, ut sit etiam in contagionibus, quae, si tibi 
 ab iis metuas, facilius irruunt. 
 
 Ac publica ista invidia, magis in regum officiarios et 
 ministros involat, quam in reges ipsos. Attamen ecce 
 regulam quae vix fallit; si invidia, quae ministro incumbit, 
 sit magna, causa autem parva; aut si invidia quasi gene¬ 
 ralis sit, et omnes status ministros complectatur; tunc 
 invidia, (etsi occulto,) regem, aut statum ipsum, petit. 
 Atque haec dicta sint de publica invidia, aut contentatione 
 mala; atque de ejus differentia ab invidia privata, quam 
 priore loco tractavimus. 
 
 Addemus etiam, in genere, de affectu invidiae, hoc in¬ 
 super; eum inter omnes affectus esse maxime importunum, 
 et assiduum. Etenim, aliis affectibus excitandis subinde 
 praebetur occasio; recte autem dictum est, “ invidiam festos 
 dies non agere;” quia semper materiam se exercendi 
 reperit. Unde etiam observatum est, amorem et invidiam, 
 maciem hominibus inducere; id quod alii affectus non 
 faciunt, quoniam non continui sunt. Est etiam invidia 
 affectuum vilissimus et pravissimus: quam ob causum 
 proprium est attributum diaboli; qui dicitur “ Invidus 
 homo, qui zizanias inter triticum, noctu seminavit 
 quemadmodum etiam semper evenit, ut invidia callide, et 
 in tenebris operetur, ad praejudicium cujusvis rei optimae, 
 veluti tritici. 
 
270 
 
 X. DE AMORE. 
 
 Amori plus debet scena, quam vita. Etenim in scena, 
 amor semper comoediae praebet argumentum; quandoque 
 etiam et tragoediae; at in vita humana multum plerumque 
 affert nocumenti; nunc ut Sirenum aliqua, aliquando ut 
 Fruriarum. Observare licet, neminem ex viris magnis 
 et illustribus fuisse (quorum extat memoria, vel antiqua, 
 vel recens) qui adactus fuerit, ad insanum illum gradum 
 amoris. Unde constat, animos magnos, et negotia magna, 
 infirmam hanc passionem, non admittere. Excipere tamen 
 oportet Marcum Antonium, imperii Romani duumvirum; 
 et Appium Claudium, decemvirum, legislatorum inter 
 Romanos principem. Quorum prior fuit revera homo 
 luxuriosus, et voluptatibus deditus; alter autem vir fuit 
 prudens et austerus. Unde quivis perspiciat, amorem, 
 (quanquam rarius,) aditum reperire posse, non solum in cor 
 apertum, sed et bene munitum, si diligenti custodia non 
 asservetur. Abjectum quidem, et pusillanimum, est illud 
 Epicuri dictum: “ Satis magnum alter alteri theatrum 
 sumus:” quasi homo natus ad contemplationem coeli, et 
 coelestium, idolum adorans minutum, satageret, se sub¬ 
 mittendo, si non ori, ut bruta, oculo tamen, certe ad altiora 
 contemplanda dato. 
 
 Mira res videbitur, si passionis hujus excessum perpen¬ 
 damus, ac quomodo ipsi rerum naturae, et valori vero 
 insultet, vel hoc ipso, quod hyperbole perpetua nulli rei 
 conveniat, praeterquam amori. Neque haec hyperbole 
 solummodo in locutionis phrasi cernitur; cum enim veris¬ 
 sime dictum sit, adulatorum principem, quocum caeteri 
 adulatores minores conspirant, esse unumquemque sibi 
 ipsi; profecto amator aliquid amplius est. Nunquam 
 enim fuit quisquam ade.o superbus, qui seipsum tam 
 absurde magnifecerit, quam amator personam amatam. 
 Recte itaque receptum est illud diverbium: “ Amare, et 
 sapere, vix Deo conceditur.” Neque aliis tantummodo 
 manifesta est haec phrenesis, personae autem amatae 
 minime; sed et amatae potissimum, nisi amor sit reci¬ 
 procus. Certissimum enim est, amorem semper rependi, 
 aut amore mutuo, aut contemptu intrinseco et secreto. 
 Quo magis cavendum est hominibus, ab hac passione; quae 
 non solum alias res perdit, sed et seipsam. Quae alia 
 infert damna, belle illa exprimit poetarum fabula : “ eum 
 scilicet, qui Helenam praetulit, Junonis dona, et Palladis 
 
271 
 
 DE AMORE. 
 
 amisisse.” Quisquis enim amatoriis affectibus nimis in- 
 dulget, et divitiis et sapientiae nuncium remittit. Habet 
 haec passio aestus suos, in ipsis temporibus, quibus animus 
 maxime mollis est et infirmus; nimirum in rebus prosperis, 
 aut adversis: quanquam hoc posterius minus forsan obser¬ 
 vatum fuerit. Utraque enim tempestas amorem accendit, 
 redditque flagrantiorem; unde evincitur esse stultitiae 
 proles. Optime illi, qui si amores omnino nequeant ex¬ 
 trudere, eos tamen in ordinem redigunt; et a rebus seriis, 
 vitaeque negotiis, segregant. Si enim illis amor se im¬ 
 misceat, turbat omnia, hominesque eo compellit, ut fines 
 suos recta petere non possint. Quicquid in re sit, viri 
 militares amoribus dediti sunt; opinor, non aliter, quam 
 vino. Poscunt enim plerunque pericula compensationem 
 voluptariam. Inest ingenio humano, motus quidam arca¬ 
 nus, et tacita inclinatio, in amorem aliorum: qui si non 
 insumatur, in unum, vel paucos, naturaliter se diffundit in 
 plures; atque homines reddit humanos et charitativos : 
 quemadmodum videre licet nonnunquam in monachis. 
 Amor conjugalis genus humanum creat, amor socialis 
 perficit; amor vero lascivus inficit, et dehonestat. 
 
 XI. DE MAGISTRATIBUS ET DIGNITATIBUS. 
 
 Viri in magistratu collocati, ter servi: servi principis vel 
 politiae; servi famae ; et servi negotiorum. Adeo ut liber¬ 
 tate neutiquam fruantur ; nec in personis, nec in actionibus, 
 nec in temporibus suis. Mirum cupiditatis genus, potes¬ 
 tatem appetere, libertatem amittere: vel potestatem in 
 alios ambire, potestatem in seipsum exuere: ascensus ad 
 dignitates arduus est; et per labores pervenitur ad labores 
 majores: saepe quoque indignitatibus non vacat; atque 
 per indignitates pervenitur ad dignitates. Statio in digni¬ 
 tatibus res lubrica est; atque regressus, aut praecipitium 
 est, aut saltem eclipsis; quae et ipsa triste quiddam, et 
 melancholicum. “ Cum non sis qui fueris, non esse cur 
 velis vivere V 9 Imo nec regredi datur, etiamsi quis cupiat; 
 neque regredi volunt homines, cum ratio postulat ut id 
 facerent; verum impatientes manent vitae privatae, etiam 
 cum senectus aut infirmitas ingruit; quae umbram et otium 
 postulant, sicut oppidani senes, qui ante ostium sedere 
 volunt, licet se eo pacto derisui exponant. Sane, viris in 
 magistratibus positis, opus est, ut aliorum opiniones mutu¬ 
 entur, quo se ipsos beatos putent; nam si judicent ex sensu 
 
272 DE MAGISTRATIBUS ET DIGNITATIBUS. 
 
 proprio, nihil hujusmodi reperient; verum, quando secum 
 cogitent, quid alii de ipsis sentiant, et quam libenter alii 
 conditiones cum illis permutare vellent, tum demum beati 
 sunt, tanquam rumore tenus: cum intus fortasse con¬ 
 trarium experiantur. Siquidem dolores suos primi omnium 
 sentiunt, licet culpas suas omnium novissimi. Certe viri 
 potestatibus sublimes, ipsi sibi ignoti sunt; et dum nego¬ 
 tiis distrahuntur, tempore carent, quo sanitati, aut corporis, 
 aut animae suae, consulant: 
 
 “ Illi mors gravis incubat. 
 
 Qui, notus nimis omnibus, 
 
 Ignotus moritur sibi.” 
 
 In potestatibus, licentia magna datur, et boni, et mali: 
 quorum posterius pro maledictione habendum: in malis 
 enim, optima conditio est, nolle; proxima, non posse. 
 Certe potentia bene-merendi verus est et legitimus am¬ 
 bitionis finis. Etenim bene cogitare, licet Deo acceptum 
 sit, tamen versus homines non multo melius est, quam 
 bene somniare, nisi in actum producatur. Id autem fieri 
 non potest, sine munere aliquo publico et potestate; veluti 
 solo superiore et elevato. Merita et opera bona sunt veri 
 fines laborum hominis; atque eorundem conscientia per¬ 
 fectio humanse quietis. “ Et conversus Deus, ut aspiceret 
 opera, quae fecerunt manus suae, vidit quod omnia essent 
 bona nimis:” tum sequitur sabbatum. In munere tuo 
 perfungendo, propone tibi exempla optima; imitatio enim 
 globus est praeceptorum: et post tempus aliquod propone 
 tibi exemplum proprium; atque in teipsum stricte in¬ 
 quiras, num non melius inceperis, quam perstiteris: neque 
 rursus exempla eorum negligas, qui eodem munere praviter 
 functi sunt; non ut teipsum, eorum memoriam carpendo, 
 vendites; sed ut monearis, quid evitare debeas. Institue 
 igitur reformationem, sed absque elatione tui-ipsius, aut 
 scandalo priorum temporum et personarum; hoc tamen 
 tibi constitutum sit, exempla praeclara non minus intro¬ 
 ducere, quam imitari. Retrahe res ad primam earum 
 institutionem ; et circumspicias, in quibus, et quibus modis, 
 degeneraverint. Attamen utrunque tempus consulas; tum 
 antiquius, ut cognoscas quid optimum fuerit; tum recen¬ 
 tius, ut notes, quid fuerit aptissimum. Contende, ut quae 
 agis pro potestate, tanquam regulis quibusdam cohibean¬ 
 tur; ut hominibus tanquam digito monstres, quid illis 
 sit expectandum: neque tamen nimium sis pertinax, aut 
 peremptorius: atque semper cum a regula recesseris, quid 
 
DE MAGISTRATIBUS ET DIGNITATIBUS. 
 
 273 
 
 sit quod agas, diligenter expone. Muneris tui jura con¬ 
 stanter tueare; neque propterea lites de jurisdictione facile 
 move: atque ita te geras, ut potius jura tua assumas et 
 exerceas tacite, et de facto, quam ut quaestiones de iis 
 cum strepitu suscites et agites. Jura etiam inferiorum 
 munerum, tibi subordinatorum, defende, ac ne destitue. 
 Tibique majori honori ducas rerum summas praescribere, 
 quam in omnibus satagere. Amplectere, imo invita, qui 
 tibi adjumento sint et informationi, ad muneris tui exe- 
 cutionem; neque abige eos, qui operam suam ad hoc tibi 
 deferunt, tanquam se ingerentes; sed potius cum favore 
 eos allicias, et recipias. 
 
 Vitia in auctoritate utenda, et exercenda, sunt praecipue 
 quatuor. Mora nimia, corruptela, asperitas, et facilitas. 
 Quantum ad moras, faciles aditus praebe; tempora praesti¬ 
 tuta serva; inchoata quae sunt perfice; neque negotia 
 nova intermisce, nisi urgeat necessitas. Quantum ad cor¬ 
 ruptelas: non solum manus tui ipsius, et tuorum liga, ne 
 munera accipiantur; sed etiam manus supplicantium, ne 
 ea offerantur. Prius horum praestat certe integritas adhi¬ 
 bita ; verum ea ipsa praedicata, et ex professo, idque cum 
 detestatione corruptelarum, etiam posterius assequitur. 
 Neque tantum culpam, verum etiam suspicionem devita. 
 Quicunque mutabiles sunt, et manifesto alterantur absque 
 causa manifesta, injiciunt suspicionem de corruptelis. 
 Itaque perpetuo, cum ab opinione tua quam declarasti, 
 aut processu quem incepisti, deflectas, ingenue hoc ipsum 
 profitere; simul et causas quae te ad hoc commoverunt 
 sedulo declares et inculces; neque rem suffurari te posse 
 credas. Servus gratiosus, et apud dominum potens, si 
 non extet aliqua favoris causa manifesta, reputatur ple- 
 runque nihil aliud quam via obliqua ad corruptelas. 
 Quantum ad asperitatem; invidiam, et malevolentiam 
 parit illa, nihil inde metens: severitas siquidem metum 
 incutit, asperitas odium parit. Etiam reprehensiones de 
 loco superiore, graves esse debent, non contumeliosae. 
 Quantum ad facilitatem : ea corruptelis etiam deterior 
 est: corruptelae enim interdum et subinde tentantur; quod 
 si quis importunitati pateat, aut respectibus levioribus 
 ducatur, haec ei ubique aderint. Sicut ait Solomon : 
 “ Personas respicere non est bonum; talis enim offendet 
 pro buccella panis.” 
 
 Verissimum sane, quod a veteribus dictum est: u Ma¬ 
 gistratus virum indicat.” Alios autem indicat in melius, 
 alios in pejus : “ Omnium consensu capax imperii, nisi 
 
 VOL. XV. T 
 
274 DE MAGISTRATIBUS ET DIGNITATIBUS. 
 
 imperasset:” inquit Tacitus de Galba, contra de Vespa¬ 
 siano idem; “ Solus imperantium Vespasianus mutatus 
 in melius.” Licet alterum intelligat Tacitus de arte im¬ 
 peratoria, alterum de moribus et affectibus. Signum est 
 luculentissimum indolis generosae, si quis honoribus 
 emendetur. Est enim honor, aut saltem esse debet, locus 
 virtutis: atque quemadmodum in natura, corpora mo¬ 
 ventur rapide ad locum, placide in loco: ita virtus in 
 ambitu violentior est, in honore adepto sedatior. Ascensus 
 omnis ad dignitatum fastigium, incedit tanquam per 
 scalam graduum flexuosam; atque, si factiones valeant, 
 bonum fuerit, alteri parte adhaerere, dum quis honorem 
 scandat: at se ad aequilibrium reducere, postquam eundem 
 fuerit consecutus. Memoriam praedecessoris tui illaesam 
 conserva. Hoc si non feceris, debitum tibi hoc a suc¬ 
 cessore tuo rependetur. Collegas etiam amice tracta, et 
 potius advoca cum illud minime expectent, quam exclude 
 cum consentaneum fuerit eos advocari. Ne sis loci tui 
 nimis memor, aut crebram de eo mentionem facias, in 
 quotidianis sermonibus, aut conversatione privata; sed 
 potius praedicetur de te : “ Alius prorsus vir est, cum 
 sedet, et munus suum exercet.” 
 
 XII. DE AUDACIA. 
 
 In scholis tritum est dicterium, nec tamen sapientis 
 observatione indignum. Interrogatus olim Demosthenes, 
 quaenam prima oratoris virtus ? respondit, Actio. Quae 
 secunda? Actio. Quae tertia? itidem respondit, Actio. 
 Ipse dixit, qui rem optime noverat; nec tamen in eo, 
 quod laudabat, multum naturae debebat. Mira certe res, 
 illam oratoris partem, quae non ultra corticem penetrat; 
 et histrionis potius virtus censenda est, quam oratoris; 
 in locum tam sublimem, supra nobiliores illas partes, 
 inventionis, elocutionis, et caeterarum, extolli; imo quasi 
 omne tulisset punctum, pene solam praedicari. Sed in 
 promptu ratio est: inest enim naturae humanae, plerunque, 
 plus stulti, quam sapientis. Unde et facultates eae, quibus 
 capitur pars illa in animis mortalium stulta, sunt omnium 
 potentissimae. Huic mire convenit, et quasi parallela est, 
 audacia in negotiis civilibus. Quid in istis primum? 
 Audacia. Quid secundum? Quid tertium? Audacia. 
 Attamen utcunque ignorantiae, et sordidi ingenii, proles 
 est audacia; caeterisque civilis scientiae partibus longe 
 
DE AUDACIA. 
 
 275 
 
 impar. Sed nihilominus fascinat, et captivos ducit eos, 
 qui vel judicio infirmi sunt, vel animo timidiores: tales 
 autem sunt hominum pars maxima. Quin et sapientibus 
 ipsis, cum animis vacillent, vim injicit. Idcirco videmus 
 audacium, in democratiis, plurimum valuisse; apud sena¬ 
 tores vero, et principes, certe minus. Imo quando primo 
 rebus gerendis admoventur audaces; plus possunt, quam 
 postea: nam male pollicita praestat audacia. Sane quem¬ 
 admodum interveniunt agyrtae, qui corpori naturali mederi 
 profitentur; sic et corpori politico non desunt homines, 
 qui curiationes vel difficillimas suscipient; quibus forsan 
 in paucis aliquibus experimentis feliciter successit; sed 
 cum scientiae principia non gustarint, saepius excidunt. 
 Imo videre est nonnunquam hominem audacem, mira¬ 
 culum illud Mahometis edentem. Populo persuasit Ma- 
 hometes, se collem ad semet evocaturum; atque a summo 
 ejus jugo, preces pro legis suae cultoribus, oblaturum. 
 Populus magna frequentia convenit: collem, ut ad se 
 veniret, iterumque iterumque vocavit Mahometes; sed 
 cum collis immotus maneret, ille, (nihil omnino pudefactus,) 
 inquit: “ Si collis ad Mahometem accedere nolit, ad collem 
 ibit Mahometes.” Sic et istiusmodi homines, quando 
 ingentia quaedam in se susceperunt, turpissimeque in iis 
 defecerunt, tamen (si ad ipsum audaciae culmen pervene¬ 
 runt,) lusu rem excipient, et se vertent, et nihil aliud. 
 Hominibus profecto magno judicio praeditis, ludibrio sunt 
 audaces; imo et apud ipsum vulgus audacia aliquid habet 
 ridiculi. Nam si risus objectum sit absurditas, ne dubites, 
 quin magna audacia semper secum habeat aliquid ridiculi. 
 Neque fere jucundius est spectaculum, quam videre in 
 
 audace oris confusionem; vultum enim tunc nanciscitur 
 • 7 # 
 
 in se reductum, sed deformiter. Nec aliter fieri potest. 
 Nam in verecundantibus fluunt paulatim, refluuntque 
 spiritus; sed audaces, quando tale quidpiam illis con¬ 
 tingit, attoniti haerent; ut fit in schacciae ludo, quando 
 non vincitur collusor, sed torpet tantum motus. Atqui 
 hoc postremum, satirae aptius, quam seriae observationi. 
 Illud vero animadvertendum, audaciam semper caecam 
 esse. Discrimina enim et obstacula nulla videt: quare in 
 deliberando nocet, in exequendo juvat. Adeo ut, si 
 audaces tuto adhibere velis, summum iliis imperium non 
 deferas; secundae classi annumerentur, et ab aliis regantur. 
 Nam in consiliis capiendis, pericula ante oculos habere 
 bonum est; in executione autem, oculos claudere oportet, 
 nisi pericula valde magna fuerint. 
 
276 
 
 XIII. DE BONITATE, ET BONITATE NATIVA. 
 
 Bonitatem eo sensu accipio, ut sit affectus, qui hominum 
 commoda studeat, et bene velit: quam eandem Graeci 
 philanthropiam vocant. Humanitatis autem vocabulum, . 
 (prout vulgus ea utitur) levius aliquanto est, atque an¬ 
 gustius, quam ut vim ejus exprimat. Bonitatem scilicet 
 appello affectum, et habitum,* bonitatem autem nativam, 
 inclinationem. Bonitas vero inter omnes virtutes, atque 
 animi dignitates, facile primas obtinet; cum sit ipsius 
 divinae naturae adumbrata quaedam effigies, et character: 
 qua e rebus sublata, homo animalis nihil aliud fuerit, 
 quam res inquieta, scelesta, misera, imo species quaedam 
 noxiorum vermium. Bonitas moralis, virtuti illi theologicae, 
 charitati, respondet; neque excessum quidem capit, aber¬ 
 rationem autem patitur. Immodica potentiae cupiditas 
 angelos ccelo deturbavit; immodica scientiae cupiditas 
 hominem paradiso expulit: at in charitate non datur ex¬ 
 cessus, neque per eam aut angelus, aut homo, unquam 
 periculum subire possit. Inclinatio autem ad bonitatem, 
 altis defixa radicibus, naturae humanae insidet: quae si 
 benefaciendi materia, aut occasione, destituta, non inve¬ 
 niat, quo se exerceat in homines, deflectet certe in brutas 
 animantes. Quod in Tureis, gente utique saeva et fera, 
 videre est; qui nihilominus erga bruta animalia miseri¬ 
 cordes sunt, et eleemosynas canibus et avibus distribuunt. 
 Adeo ut, (referente Busbequio,) aurifex quidam Venetus, 
 Byzantii agens, vix furorem populi effugerit, quod avis 
 cujusdam, rostri oblongi, fauces, inserto baculo, diduxisset. 
 Neque tamen erroribus suis vacat bonitatis haec, et chari- 
 tatis, virtus. Nequam apud Italos jactatur proverbium: 
 
 “ Tanto buon, cheval niente.” Adeo bonus, ut ad nihil 
 bonus. Neque subverifus est Nicolaus Macciavellus, literis 
 concredere, idque disertis fere verbis: “ Fidem Chris¬ 
 tianam, homines probos et innocentes, in praedam tyran¬ 
 norum iniquitati dedisse.” Quod ideo pronunciavit, quia 
 nulla usquam lex, nulla secta aut opinio, tam in immensum 
 extulit bonitatem, quam religio Christiana. Quo melius 
 itaque, extra scandali, adeoque periculi ictum et minas, 
 tuti consistamus, operae pretium erit nosse errores, qui nos 
 a recto tam insignis habitus tramite, transversos agant. 
 Ita aliorum bono studeas, ne te illorum interea; aut vulti¬ 
 bus, aut voluntatibus, mancipio dedas. Illud enim facili¬ 
 tatis, atque mollitiei indicium est, quae honestam mentem 
 
 
 0 
 
DE BONITATE, ET BONITATE NATIVA. 277 
 
 in vincula captivam abducit. Neque projicias iEsopi gallo 
 gemmam, cui gratius et felicius cederet granum hordei. 
 Dei exemplum, in hac re, pro praecepto tibi sit. “ Ille 
 pluvia sua rigat, sole suo irradiat, justos juxta ac injustos 
 non tamen omnes ex sequo, aut opum imbre compluit, aut 
 • honorum, virtutum ve splendore, illustrat. Communia 
 quidem beneficia cuivis sunt communicanda: peculiaria 
 vero paucis, et cum delectu. Cave autem, ne dum effigiem 
 sculpas, archetypum destruas. Theologia quippe, amorem 
 nostri ipsius pro archetypo statuit, amorem proximi pro 
 imitamento. “ Vende omne quod habes, atque elargire 
 pauperibus, et sequere me.” At noli omne, quod habes, 
 vendere, nisi venias, et sequaris me : hoc est, nisi ejusmodi 
 vitse institutum ingrediaris, in quo, aeque ex parvis opibus, 
 ac ex magnis, poteris aliis benefacere. Secus, dum rivos 
 alis, fontem exhauris. Neque interea habitus tantum 
 bonitatis reperitur ad rectae rationis normam applicatus, 
 sed etiam in quibusdam hominibus reperitur indoles natu¬ 
 ralis ad eam propensa: uti e contra in aliis naturalis 
 quaedam malignitas. Sunt enim, qui ex ingenii proprii 
 instinctu aversentur aliorum bonum. Et levius quidem 
 malignitatis genus, in morositatem cedit, aut perversitatem, 
 aut praecipitem opponendi, et se in singulis difficilem 
 praebendi, libidinem, et similia: gravius tamen illud, 
 atque altius, ad invidiam producitur, meramque malitiam. 
 Hujusmodi homines in alienis calamitatibus fere florent, 
 easque semper aggravant: non digni certe, qui conferantur 
 canibus illis, qui Lazari delingebant ulcera; sed muscis, 
 quae cruda quaeque et excoriata infestant. Non paucos 
 reperias misanthropos, quibus volupe est deducere homines 
 ad suspendii ramum, neque tamen arborem habent in 
 hortis suis, qualem Timon habuit. Ingenia ita disposita, 
 non injuria vocare licet, humanae naturae vomicas, et car¬ 
 cinomata. Sunt tamen haec ligna accommodatissima, e 
 quibus fiant Mercurii politici: similia lignis incurvis, quae 
 bene navigiis exstruendis conveniunt, jactationi destinatis, 
 non autem aedibus, quae immotae manent. Partes autem, 
 et indicia bonitatis sunt plurima. Si quis se erga hospites 
 et peregrinos benignum humanumque praebeat, arguit se 
 mundi civem, sibique cor esse, non instar insulae, caeteris 
 terris avulsae, sed continentis, quae illis conjungitur: si 
 compatiatur afflictis, nobilitat sua praecordia, quae non 
 secus atque celebrata illa arbor, per sua vulnera, balsamum 
 exsudat. Si facilis offensas remiserit, et delictorum gra¬ 
 tiam fecerit, mentem indicat in alto positam esse, supra 
 
278 DE BONITATE, ET BONITATE NATIVA. 
 
 injuriarum jactum et tela. Si pro modicis beneficiis 
 gratum se exhibeat, argumento est, pluris se aestimare 
 hominum animos, quam sarcinas. Supra omnia, si su¬ 
 premum illum, sancti Pauli apostoli, perfectionis fastigium 
 sit consecutus, ut devoveat se, atque anathematizet a 
 Christo, propter salutem fratrum, indicio est, proxime 
 illum accedere ad naturam divinam, et quodammodo 
 Christo ipsi conformari. 
 
 XIV. DE NOBILITATE. 
 
 De nobilitate primum agamus, ut est portio reipublicse; 
 deinde ut est conditio hominum particularium. Monarchia, 
 in qua nulli prorsus nobiles, semper pura est et absoluta 
 tyrannis : cujusmodi est imperium Turcicum. Dignitatem 
 enim regalem diluit nobilitas, et vulgi oculos a prosapia 
 regia aliquantulum avocat. In democratia vero, proceres 
 interdum non desiderantur: imo status ille popularis 
 multo pacatior est, atque minus factionibus et turbis ob¬ 
 noxius, ubi non sunt stirpes nobilium: illic enim in res 
 ipsas oculi hominum conjiciuntur, non in personas; vel si 
 omnino in personas, id fit, tanquam in maxime idoneas 
 rebus gerendis, minime vero ut ratio habeatur insignium, 
 aut imaginum. Helvetiorum rempublicam satis florentem 
 videmus, licet religionis pagorumque diversitas obstare 
 videatur. Utilitas enim apud illos valet, non dignitas. 
 Illa gubernandi forma, qua confederatae Belgarum pro¬ 
 vinciae utuntur, certe eminet: ubi enim paritas admittitur, 
 ibi et consilia ineuntur aequabilius, et tributa penduntur 
 alacrius. Nobilium potentia et auctoritas in monarchia, 
 principi ipsi impertit splendorem, sed potestatem imminuit; 
 populi vero animos auget, fortunas illorum deprimit. 
 Bene se res habet, cum nobiles non sint potentiores, quam 
 aut imperii aut justitiae ratio postulat: in eo tamen digni¬ 
 tatis gradu sustineantur, ut insolentia popularis illorum 
 reverentia, tanquam obice, retundatur, antequam in regalem 
 majestatem se effundat. Bursus, numerosa nobilitas, quae 
 plerumque minus potens est, statum prorsus depauperat: 
 hinc enim profusae expensae: atque insuper, cum necesse 
 sit, tractu temporis, complures ex nobilibus indigos fieri, 
 sequitur divortium quoddam, sive malum temperamentum, 
 inter honores et pecunias. 
 
 Quod vero ad nobilitatem spectat in personis particu¬ 
 laribus: venerationem certe habet, videre castellum, aut 
 
DE NOBILITATE. 
 
 279 
 
 aedificium antiquum, quod nulla ruina invasit: aut etiam 
 annosam et proceram arborem solidam et integram: quanto 
 magis intueri antiquam nobilem prosapiam, a fluctibus 
 et procellis temporis, illeesam. Nobilitas enim nova regiae 
 potentiae opus est, antiqua vero temporis solius. Qui ad 
 nobilitatis fastigium primi evehuntur, virtutum claritudine 
 plerumque posteris eminent, sed innocentia minime. Ad 
 honores enim raro ascenditur, nisi per mixturam bonarum 
 et malarum artium. iEquum vero est, ut virtutum suarum 
 memoria, usque ad posteros permanet; vitiorum vero una 
 cum ipsis moriatur. Natalium splendor industriam ple- 
 runque minuit; atque qui minus est industrius, alienae 
 invidet diligentiae. Ad quod accedit, quod non datur, 
 quo possint ulterius nobiles promoveri. Qui vero in eodem 
 loco haeret, dum alii ascendunt, invidiae stimulis vix carebit. 
 Contra, nobilitas passivam invidiam omnino lenit; eo quod 
 nobiles in honorum possessione nati videntur. Sane reges, 
 quibus nobiles adsunt prudentes et capaces, negotia sua 
 mollius fluere sentient, si eos potissimum adhibeant: 
 etenim, erga hujusmodi proceres populus magis propendet, 
 utpote natos quodammodo ad imperandum. 
 
 XV. DE SEDITIONIBUS ET TURBIS. 
 
 Magni refert, ut pastores populi prognostica tempestatum 
 politicarum sciant; quse tunc maxime sunt, cum res ver¬ 
 gunt ad eequalitatem; non secus ac naturales tempestates 
 circa aequinoctia invalescunt. Quemadmodum autem, saepe 
 videre est flatus ventorum, cavos, et veluti a longinquo; 
 quin et similiter maris tumores occultos, ante procellam; 
 idem evenit ingruentibus procellis politicis. 
 
 “ Ille etiam caecos instare tumultus 
 Saepe monet, fraudesque, et operta tumescere bella.” 
 
 Famosi libelli, et licentiosi et mordaces sermones in status 
 scandalum, cum passim volitant, et increbrescunt: similiter 
 novarum rerum rumores mendaces, in regiminis dedecus, 
 undique jactati, et avide a populo excepti; sunt certe inter 
 prognostica seditionum. Quo stemmate deducta sit Fama 
 cum Virgilius depingeret, gigantum sororem eam esse 
 ponit. 
 
 Illam Terra parens, ira irritata Deorum, 
 
 Extremam (ut perhibent) Caeo Enceladoque sororem 
 Progenuit.” 
 
280 
 
 DE SEDITIONIBUS ET TURBIS. 
 
 Quasi famse fuissent seditionum praeteritarum reliquiae: 
 verum sunt illae non minus seditionum futurarum prae- 
 cursatrices. Recte tamen utcunque notatum est, inter 
 seditiosos tumultus, et seditiosos rumores, nil aliud fere 
 interesse, nisi qualis est discrepantia, inter fratrem et soro¬ 
 rem, masculum et foeminam. Praesertim si eo usque 
 ingravescat malum, ut actiones status laudatissimae, quae 
 merito plausum vulgi mererentur, et populi studia conciliare 
 deberent, in deteriorem partem traducantur et sugillentur: 
 hoc enim invidiae molem grandem demonstrat; ut recte 
 ait Tacitus: “ Conflata magna invidia, seu bene seu male 
 gesta premunt.” Neque propterea sequitur, quod quia 
 famae istae inter turbarum signa numerentur, ideo earum 
 suppressio severior remedium contra turbas praestare in- 
 telligeretur; nam ut plurimum contemptae facilius evanes¬ 
 cunt, et conatus sedulus eas coercendi nihil aliud fere 
 efficit, quam ut durent magis. 
 
 Item illud genus obsequii in exsequendis jussis, de quo 
 loquitor Tacitus, pro suspecto habendum: “ Erant in 
 officio, sed tamen qui mallent imperantium mandata inter¬ 
 pretari, quam exequi.” Mandata discutere, detractare, 
 cavillationibus eluere, quid aliud sunt, quam jugum 
 jactare, et inobedientiam tentare? presertim ubi in istis 
 disputationibus circa mandata, qui a parte mandatorum 
 stant, loquuntur timide et molliuscule; qui autem adver¬ 
 santur, audacius et contumacius. 
 
 Etiam (ut bene notat Macciavellus) cum principes, qui 
 se pro parentibus communibus gere deberent, factioni 
 alicui se adjungunt, idem fit, ac cum lembus, inclinatione 
 nimia in alterum latus, evertitur. Hoc temporibus Henrici 
 tertii Gallorum regis, confirmatum est. Ipse enim, a 
 principio, in ligam pro exstirpandis protestantibus se recipi 
 voluit: at paulo post, eadem liga contra ipsum regem 
 vertit. Cum enim auctoritas principis fit causte cujuspiam 
 tanquam accessoria, et fortior insurgit aliqua obligatio, 
 quam vinculum imperii, reges incipiunt de possessione 
 auctoritatis suse dejici. 
 
 Porro cum discordise, et duella, et factiones, palam et 
 audacter se ostentant, indicio est reverentiam erga prin¬ 
 cipem exui. Motus enim procerum debent esse sicut 
 motus planetarum, sub primo mobili, (juxta opinionem 
 receptam) qui rapide quidem circumferuntur secundum 
 motum primi mobilis, leniter autem renituntur in motu 
 proprio. Quare si viri primores et nobiles propriis motibus 
 violenter rapiantur, et (ut scite Tacitus) “ Liberius, quam 
 
DE SEDITIONIBUS ET TURBIS. 
 
 281 
 
 ut imperantium meminissent;” orbes perturbari mani¬ 
 festum est. Reverentia enim id ipsum est, quo reges a 
 Deo accinguntur, qui eam aliquando disrumpere mini¬ 
 tatur : “ Solvam cingula regum.” 
 
 Rursus, cum aliqua ex quatuor imperii columnis, con¬ 
 cutiatur aut labefactetur, (quae sunt, religio, justitia, con¬ 
 silium, opes,) tum serenitas precibus imploranda est. Sed 
 mittamus haec prognostica seditionum, (circa quae nihi¬ 
 lominus intervenient nonnulla, quae iis tractandis majorem 
 lucem praebere possint, in sequentibus,) et primo de materia 
 seditionum; postea de earum causis et flabellis; ultimo 
 de remediis nonnihil dicamus. 
 
 Materiam seditionum expendere res est consideratione 
 dignissima. Tutissima enim via seditiones evitandi, (si 
 tempora patiantur,) est, ut ipsam materiam e medio tol¬ 
 lamus. Si enim fomes flammae paratus sit, scintillae, quae 
 incendium facient, ex qua parte emicare possint, nemo 
 facile dixerit. Seditionum materia duplex est: magna 
 inopia, et praesentium rerum taedium. Certissimum est, 
 tot esse pro turbis vota quot sunt hominum res attritae, et 
 decoctae fortunae. Unde illa Lucani observatio de statu 
 imperii Romani, paulo ante bellum civile; 
 
 “ Hunc usura vorax, rapidumque in tempore foenus : 
 
 Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum.” 
 
 Hoc ipsum, “ Multis utile bellum,” certum est indicium 
 status ad commotiones et turbas dispositi. Tum si pri¬ 
 morum hominum indigentia, ac res accisae, cum summa 
 plebis inopia et paupertate conjungantur, periculum im¬ 
 minet grave. Rebelliones enim, quae a ventre ortum 
 habent, pessimae. Quantum vero ad alienationes ani¬ 
 morum, et taedium rerum praesentium; sunt certe illa, in 
 corpore civili, instar humorum maligniorum in corpore 
 naturali, qui ad calorem praeternaturalem colligendum, et 
 inflammationes, apti sunt. Nemo autem principum sui 
 periculi magnitudinem metiatur ex eo, quod justa sint 
 aut injusta illa, quae animos populi alienant: hoc enim 
 esset vulgus rationis nimium capax putare, qui suo saepe 
 recalcitrant commodo. Neque etiam ex hoc, quod grava¬ 
 mina, ex quibus invidia oritur, grandia sint aut exigua. 
 Malevolentiae enim ex omnibus istae periculosissimae sunt, 
 ubi plus timetur, quam sentitur. “ Dolendi modus, ti¬ 
 mendi non item.” Preterea, in maximis oppressionibus, 
 ea, quae patientiam initant, etiam animos frangunt: at in 
 timoribus dispar est ratio. Neque rursus princeps, aut 
 
f 
 
 
 282 DE SEDITIONIBUS ET TURBIS. 
 
 status, alienationem animorum, et invidiam grassantem 
 minus pendat, quod aut saepius aut diutius, illa fastidia 
 animorum aestuarunt, neque quicquam inde detrimenti 
 respublica cepit. Verum enim licet sit, quod non omnis 
 vapor in procellam desinat; ita vere dici potest, ex altera 
 parte, quod procellae, licet saepius pertranseant, tandem glo¬ 
 merantur et ruunt. Atque, secundum adagium illud His¬ 
 panicum, “ funiculus in fine, levissima tensione rumpitur.” 
 
 Causae seditionum hae sunt: in rebus religionis inno¬ 
 vatio ; tributa et census; legum et consuetudinum mutatio ; 
 immunitatum et privilegiorum violatio; oppressio univer¬ 
 salis ; indignorum ad honores et magistratus promotio; 
 alienigenae; caritas annonae; milites incuriose dimissi; 
 factiones factae desperatae; quicquid denique populum 
 offendit, simulque eos in causa communi unit, et conspirare 
 facit. 
 
 Quantum ad remedia. Praeservativa quaedam confuse, 
 et in genere, possunt assignari, de quibus disseremus; 
 curatio autem legitima morbo particulari aptari debet. 
 Itaque consiliis potius, quam praecepto, relinquenda. 
 
 Primum contra seditiones remedium, et prae ventio, haec 
 est; omni cum opera et diligentia causam illam seditionum 
 materialem, de qua diximus, amovere; paupertatem intel- 
 ligo civium, et inopiam. Cui inseruit commercii rationes 
 bene liberare, et bene librare; artifices et manu facturas 
 introducere, et fovere; desidiam et otium profligare; luxum 
 et profusionem sumptuariis legibus coercere; solum et 
 agros cultura lucrosissima subigere; rebus venalibus pretia 
 justa imponere; census et tributa moderari; et similia. 
 In genere praecavendum, ut incolarum multitudo (tem¬ 
 poribus scilicet Pacis, quando gladius nihil demetit,) regni 
 proventus, quibus ali possit non excedat. Neque incolarum 
 multitudo, utrum superflua sit, nec ne, capitum numero 
 solum censenda est. Sunto enim pauciores, qui multum 
 profundunt, et parum lucrantur, plus illi atterent statum, 
 quam multo plures, qui majore parsimonia degunt, pecu¬ 
 nias autem congerunt. Nobilium igitur, et eminentioris 
 dignitatis hominum, numerus auctus, magis quam pro 
 analogia plebeiorum, celeriter statum depauperat. Quod 
 etiam facit clerus numerosus: illi enim sorti reipublicae 
 nihil adunt. Idem quoque fit, cum plures in literis edu¬ 
 cantur, quam quibus victum suppeditare possint vocationes 
 civiles. 
 
 Neque praeteruendum est, quod cum omne publicae opu¬ 
 lentiae augmentum, ab exteris nationibus lucrifieri necesse 
 
DE SEDITIONIBUS ET TURBIS. 
 
 283 
 
 sit; (quicquid enim alicubi adjicitur, alibi detrahitur;) 
 tria tantum esse, quae gens genti vendit; materiam mer¬ 
 cium; manufacturam; et vecturam. Quae quidem tres 
 rotae, si recte progrediantur, aestus divitiarum erunt ube¬ 
 riores. Saepius autem contingit illud, de quo loquitur 
 poeta, “ Materiam superabit opus ;” nempe ut manufactura, 
 et vectura, materiae pretium excedat, et statum magis locu¬ 
 pletet. Manifesit sunt hujus Rei testes inferioris Ger¬ 
 maniae populus; qui quidem fodinas, non subterraneas 
 illas, sed supra terram prae omnibus gentibus habent 
 ditissimas. 
 
 Nihil autem prius debet esse aut consultius quam ut 
 videat magistratuum prudentia, ne pecuniarium thesauri 
 apud paucos recondantur. Aliter enim facile fuerit, rem- 
 publicam inter magnas opes fame perire. Nummus autem 
 instar fimi, non fructificat, nisi per terram dispergatur. 
 Hoc praecipue efficitur, supprimendo, aut saltem coercendo, 
 voragines illas, foenoris, monopoliorum, et latifundiorum in 
 pascua conversorum, et similium. 
 
 Quantum ad sedandas animorum offensiones, aut saltem 
 ad amolienda ea, quae ab iis proveniunt, pericula; duo 
 sunt, in omni statu, (ut notum est,) subditorum genera; 
 proceres et plebs. Quaevis harum partium sola, si infensa 
 sit, non magnum subest periculum. Tardi enim sunt 
 populi motus, nisi a nobilibus incitentur: nobiles autem 
 invalidi, nisi vulgus, sua sponte, ad motus aptum et praedis¬ 
 positum sit: tum periculum revera ingruit, cum potentiores 
 I expectent, dum aquae moveantur apud vulgus, ut ita demum 
 animos exulceratos prodere possint. Fingunt poetae, coeli¬ 
 colas Jovem ut vincirent conjurasse; quod ubi Jupiter 
 accepisset, Minervae consilio, Briareum centimanum accer- 
 sivit, ut in suppetias et veniret. Proculdubio hoc emblema 
 monarchas monet, quam tutum et salutare sit eis, plebis 
 studia conciliare et retinere. 
 
 Licentiam nonnullam, sed moderatam, animis gravate 
 affectis et malevolis indulgere, ut ebulliant eorum dolores, 
 et in fumos abeant, (modo insolentia absit, et audacia,) 
 utile sane est. Qui enim humores, ad interiores partes 
 retrovertit, et vulnus in viscera sanguinem refundere com¬ 
 pellit, ulcera mortifera, et exitiala apostemata, inducit. 
 
 Ad molliendos exacerbatos et malevolos animos, partes 
 Epimethei etiam ad Prometheum rite transferri possint. 
 Neque enim reperitur remedium utilius. Epimetheus, ubi 
 mala et aerumnas evolare sensisset, operculum vasi festinus 
 imposuit, et in imo dolii spem reservavit. Certe, politice 
 
284 
 
 DE SEDITIONIBUS ET TUEBIS. 
 
 et artificiose spem nutrire, et injicere, ac homines a spe 
 alia in aliam circumducere, ex fortissimis est, contra 
 venenum malevolentiae, antidotis. Neque certius est in¬ 
 dicium prudentis regiminis, et rerum administrations, 
 quam ubi homines spe continere possit, cum satisfaciendi 
 copia non datur; atque ubi res tam provide tractantur, ut 
 nullum malum ita peremptorie imminere videatur, quin 
 aliqua se ostendant spei rima ad evadendum: quod eo 
 minus difficile factu est, quia tam privatis hominibus, 
 quam factionibus, sibi ipsis adulari insitum est; aut saltem, 
 ostentare, in gloriam suam, quod non omnino credunt. 
 
 Trita sane est, sed praecellens periculorum, quae malevo¬ 
 lentiae minantur, cautio, ut praevideatur, ne sit caput aliquod, 
 ad quod populus infensus et exacerbatus confluere, et sub 
 cujus praesidio in corpus aliquod coire, possit. Caput ego 
 illum dico, et ducem idoneum, qui nobilitate et existi¬ 
 matione celebratur; quique apud malevolos acceptus est 
 et gratiosus, atque ad quem ora et oculos convertunt; 
 quique etiam ipse in rebus suis privatis censetur offensus. 
 Quod genus virorum, aut statui conciliandum est, idque 
 non perfunctorie, sed solide; aut per alium aliquem, ex 
 iisdem partibus retundendum; qui illi alteri se opponat, 
 atque gratiam popularem, in diversa trahat et secet. 
 
 Ubique hoc obtinet, quod factiosas potentias et coitiones, 
 quae contra gubernationem imperii frontem contrahunt, 
 inter se committere, aut saltem diffidentiam inter eas semi¬ 
 nare, remedium haud contemnendum sit. Etenim male 
 admodum agitur cum republica si illi, qui erga imperium 
 bene affecti sunt, discordiarum pleni existant; qui vero 
 infensi, et maligni, arcte conjungantur. 
 
 Ad notavi saepius ingeniosa et arguta dicteria, quae prin¬ 
 cipibus . improviso exciderunt, nonnunquam scintillas ad 
 seditiones injecisse. Exitiale sibi vulnus inflixit Caesar, 
 eo dicto; “ Sylla nescivit literas, dictare non potuit.” 
 Spem enim omnem illud verbulum praescidit, quam homines 
 imbiberant, aliquando eum dictaturam depositurum. Per¬ 
 didit seipsum Galba eo dicto; “ Legi a se militem, non 
 emi.” Inde enim milites de donativis desperarunt. Probus 
 item propter eam vocem interiit, “ Si vixero, non opus erit 
 amplius, Romano imperio militibus.” Etenim ob haec 
 verba milites animum desponderunt. Sunt et alia haud 
 pauca ejusdem generis. Interest sane principibus, in rebus 
 ambiguis, et temporibus anxiis, ut caveant quid dicant; 
 praesertim in concisis his sententiis, quae veluti spicula 
 volitant, et ex secreto pectoris eorum emissa putantur. 
 
DE SEDITIONIBUS ET TURBIS. 
 
 285 
 
 Longiores enim et productiores sermones obtusi sunt, et 
 minus notantur. 
 
 Postremo, in omnes eventus, habeant circa se principes, 
 personas nonnullas militia et fortitudine spectatas, ad 
 reprimendas seditiones, in primis motibus. Hoc enim si 
 desit, magis trepidari solet, in aulis principum, cum turbae 
 primo erumpunt, quam par esset. Et status eo genere 
 periculi laborat, quod Tacitus illis verbis innuit; “ Atque 
 is habitus animorum fuit, ut pessimum facinus auderent 
 pauci, plures vellent, omnes paterentur.” Isti autem mili¬ 
 tares viri, fidi omnino esse debent, et bonae existimationis, 
 potius quam factiosi, aut populares; et cum caeteris pro¬ 
 ceribus bene comparati. Aliter remedium morbo gravius. 
 
 XVI. DE ATHEISMO. 
 
 Minus durum est, credere portentosissimis fabulis Alco- 
 rani, Talmudi, aut Legendae, quam credere, huic universi¬ 
 tatis rerum fabricae, mentem non adesse. Itaque Deus 
 nunquam edidit miraculum, ad atheismum convincendum, 
 quoniam opera ejus ordinaria, huic rei sufficiunt. Verum 
 est tamen, parum philosophiae naturalis, homines inclinare 
 in atheismum; at altiorem scientiam, eos ad religionem 
 circumagere. Etenim intellectus humanus, dum causas 
 secundas intuetur sparsas, interdum iis acquiescere possit, 
 nec ulterius penetrare; verum cum tandem catenam earum, 
 connexarum inter se, et confoederatarum, contemplari 
 pergat, necesse habet confugere ad providentiam et dei¬ 
 tatem. Imo, et illa schola, quae praecipue accusatur 
 atheismi, si quis vere rem introspiciat, religionem demon¬ 
 strat clarissime: nempe schola Leucippi, Democriti, et 
 Epicuri. Etenim longe verisimilius est, quatuor elementa 
 mutabilia, et unam quintam essentiam immutabilem, recte 
 ab aeterno locata, opus Deo non habere; quam exercitum 
 atomorum et seminum infinitorum, sine ordine fortuito 
 vagantium, hunc rerum ordinem, et pulchritudinem, pro¬ 
 gignere potuisse, absque aedili quodam divino. Dicit 
 Scriptura, “ Dixit insipiens in corde suo, non est Deus:” 
 non dicit, “ Cogitavit insipiens in corde suoadeo ut, 
 magis intra se hoc asserat, tanquam rem quam lubens 
 optaret, quam quod penitus hoc credat, et sentiat. Nemo 
 enim Deos non esse credit, nisi cui Deos non esse expedit. 
 Nulla alia re sane magis convincitur Atheismum labiis 
 tantum insidere, cordi autem minime, quam hac, quod 
 
286 
 
 DE ATHEISMO. 
 
 athei opinionem suam saepe praedicent et defendant, ac si 
 ipsi sibi diffiderent, aliorumque consensu refocillari cu- 
 perent. Quinetiam, videas interdum Atheos sibi discipulos 
 comparare, ut aliae sectae faciunt; imo, quod monstri simile 
 est, quidam ex illis mortem et cruciatus subierunt, potius 
 quam opinionem suam retractare sustinerent: cum tamen, 
 si ex animo sentirent, nihil tale esse quale Deus, quid 
 tandem de ea re satagerent? Epicuro imponitur; eum 
 existimationis suae conservandae gratia, tenuisse, quod 
 existerent quidem beatae quaedam naturae, sed quae seipsis 
 fruerentur; neque mundi administrationi se immiscerent. 
 In qua opinione, aiunt eum, tempori obsecutum, cum revera 
 Deos esse non putaret. Verum, ut videtur, minus juste 
 arguitur: verba enim ejus egregia sunt et divina; “Non 
 deos vulgi negare profanum, sed vulgi opiniones diis appli¬ 
 care profanum.” Plato ipse melius dicere non potuit. 
 Unde videtur, licet audacia polleret ad divinam rerum 
 administrationem pernegandam, eam tamen ad naturam 
 eorum tollendam illi non suffecisse. Indi occidentales, 
 particularium Deorum suorum nomina praedicant; etsi 
 nomen nullum generale habeant, quod Deum significet : 
 exempli gratia, perinde ac ethnici nomina Jovis, Apollinis, 
 Martis, etc. in usu habuissent, voce autem, qua Deum 
 exprimerent, caruissent. Quod satis indicio est, populos 
 maxime barbaros notionem rei habere, licet latitudinem 
 ejus non comprehendant. Adeo ut contra atheistas, homines 
 maxime ferini, cum philosophorum subtilissimis, militent. 
 Atheista contemplativus, raro reperitur; Diagoras, quis, 
 Bion, et fortasse Lucianus, atque alii pauci; qui tamen 
 plures esse videntur quam sunt; quoniam omnibus, qui 
 religionem aliquam, aut superstitionem impugnant, a secta 
 adversa, solet inuri nomen et nota atheistarum. Sed magni 
 revera atheistae sunt hypocritae; qui sacra perpetuo trac¬ 
 tant, sed sine sensu. Adeo ut eos in fine cauterizatos 
 evadere, necesse sit. Causae atheismi sunt: divisiones 
 circa religionem, si plures fuerint; nam unica divisio, zelum 
 utriusque partis adauget, verum numerosae Atheismum 
 introducunt. Alia causa sunt, scandala sacerdotum; cum 
 eo res redeat, quo innuit S. Bernardus: “Non est jam 
 dicere, ut populos, sic sacerdos; quia nec sic populos, ut 
 sacerdos.” Tertia est, consuetudo profana ludendi et 
 jocandi in rebus sanctis, quae sensim reverentiam religionis 
 atterit. Postremo ponuntur secula erudita, praesertim cum 
 pace, et rebus prosperis conjuncta. Etenim, calamitates, 
 et adversa, animos hominum, ad religionem fortius flectunt. 
 
DE ATHEISMO. 
 
 287 
 
 Qui Deos negant, nobilitatem generis humani destruunt. 
 Nam certissimum est, hominem brutis cognatum esse, 
 quatenus ad corpus : quod si, quatenus ad animam, non 
 intercedat ei cognatio cum Deo, vilis est plane, et ignobilis 
 creatura. Destruunt quoque magnanimitatem, et hu- 
 manrn naturee exaltationem. Cape enim exemplum a cane, 
 et observa, quantos sibi assumat animal illud spiritus, et 
 quantam generositatem induat, cum se ab homine, (qui ei 
 vice est Dei, aut melioris naturse) impulsum perspiciat. 
 Quam fortitudinem liquido cernas tantam esse, quantam 
 creatura illa, absque fiducia melioris naturee, quam propriae, 
 aequare nullo modo possit. Similiter et homo, ubi inni¬ 
 titur, et spem collocat, in divina providentia et gratia, 
 fiduciam et vires colligit, quales humana natura, sibi 
 relicta nequiisset attingere. Quare, ut atheismus, in omni¬ 
 bus odium meretur, ita et in hoc, quod privet naturam 
 humanam facultate, se ultra fragilitatem humanam attol¬ 
 lendi. Quemadmodum fit, in personis individuis, similiter 
 fit et in nationibus. Magnanimitatem Romanam, nunquam 
 gens aliqua sequavit. Audi igitur, quid dicat Cicero. 
 “ Quam volumus, licet, patres conscripti, nos amemus, 
 tamen nec numero Hispanos, nec robore Gallos, nec calli¬ 
 ditate Psenos, nec artibus Greecos, nec denique hoc ipso 
 hujus gentis et terrae domestico nativoque sensu Italos 
 ipsos, et Latinos: sed pietate, ac religione, atque hac una 
 sapientia, quod Deorum immortalium numine omnia regi, 
 gubernarique perspeximus, omnes gentes, nationesque 
 superavimus.” 
 
 XVII. DE SUPERSTITIONE. 
 
 Prostat, nullam aut incertam, de Deo habere opinionem, 
 quam contumeliosam, et Deo indignam: alterum enim 
 infidelitatis est, alterum impietatis et opprobrii. Ac 
 superstitio certe divinitatis est dedecus. Plutarchus, non 
 abs re, inquit; “ Mallem sane multo, ut homines dicerent, 
 nunquam fuisse talem in rerum natura virum, qualis fere¬ 
 batur Plutarchus; quam ut dicerent, fuisse quendam 
 Plutarchum, qui liberos suos, recens natos, comedere et 
 devorare solitus erat; quod poetee de Saturno memorant.” 
 Quemadmodum autem contumelia superstitionis ingravescit 
 adversus Deum; ita et periculum majus ab illa incumbit 
 hominibus. Atheismus non prorsus convellit dictamina 
 sensus, non philosophiam, affectus naturales, leges, bonee 
 
288 
 
 DE SUPERSTITIONE. 
 
 famae desiderium; quae omnia, licet religio abesset, morali 
 cuidam virtuti externae conducere possunt: at superstitio 
 haec omnia dijicit, et tyrannidem absolutam, in animis 
 hominum exercet. Itaque atheismus, turbas in rebus- 
 publicis raro ciet: homines enim cautos reddit, et securi¬ 
 tati suae consulentes. Quin et videmus tempora ipsa, in 
 atheismum procliviora, (qualia fuerunt Augusti Caesaris,) 
 tranquilla fuisse. At superstitio, compluribus regnis et 
 rebuspublicis, ruinae fuit: introducit enim novum primum 
 mobile, quod omnes imperii sphaeras rapit. Magister 
 superstitionis populus; atque in omni superstitione, sapi¬ 
 entes stultis obsequuntur; atque argumenta practicae 
 succumbunt, ordine perverso. Gravis fuit ille sermo, quo- 
 rundam praelatorum in concilio Tridentino, in quo doctrina 
 theologorum scholasticorum, plurimum potuit; nimirum; 
 “ Scholasticos astronomis similes fuisse, qui eccentricos 
 circulos, et epicyclos, et hujusmodi orbium machinas finxe¬ 
 runt, quo phaenomena servarent, etsi satis scirent, nihil 
 tale revera existere:” eodem modo, etiam scholasticos com¬ 
 plura subtilia et perplexa axiomata et theoremata invenisse, 
 quo practicae ecclesiae caverent. Superstitionis causae sunt; 
 grati et sensuales ritus ac ceremoniae; externae et phari- 
 saicae sanctitatis excessus; traditionum major quam par 
 fuerit reverentia, quae ecclesiam non potest non onerare; 
 stratagemata praelatorum, quibus utuntur ad ambitionem 
 propriam, et lucrum; nimius intentionum bonarum favor, 
 qui novitatibus et I6eXodprjaKeiaig januam aperit; exem¬ 
 plorum importuna et inepta petitio ab humanis, quae in 
 divina transferantur, quae necessario parit fantasiarum 
 male cohaerentium mixturam; postremo tempora barbara, 
 cum calamitatibus et perturbationibus conjuncta. Super¬ 
 stitio, sine velo, deformis res est; etenim sicut simiae, 
 similitudo cum homine, deformitatem addit; ita. et super¬ 
 stitioni, similitudo cum religione. Et quemadmodum, cibi 
 salubres corrumpuntur in vermiculos; ita ritus et formulae 
 bonae et sanae, corrumpuntur in observantias pusillas et 
 superfluas. Quin et, non caret superstitione, quandoque 
 superstionis fuga; cum se tanto saniorem et puriorem viam 
 inire putent homines, quanto a superstionibus, prius re¬ 
 ceptis, longius deflexerint. Itaque curae esse debet, in 
 religione reformanda, (ut fit in corpore purgando) ne sana 
 cum corruptis simul evacuentur; quod fere fit, ubi refor¬ 
 matio regitur a populo. 
 
289 
 
 XVIII. DE PEREGRINATIONE IN PARTES EXTERAS. 
 
 Peregrinatio in partes exteras* in junioribus, pars 
 institutionis est ; 4 in senioribus, pars experientiae. Qui 
 proficiscitur in partes exteras antequam in lingua gentis, 
 quam adit, aliquos fecerit progressus, ad ludum gram¬ 
 maticum vadit, non ad peregrinandum. Ut adolescentes 
 peregrinentur sub tutore, aut servo aliquo experto probo; 
 modo talis sit, qui linguam calleat, quique regionem illam 
 ante adiverit; unde possit eos instruere; quae in illa 
 regione, ubi peregrinantur, digna spectatu et cognitu sint; 
 quae amicitiae et familiaritates contrahendae; quae denique 
 studia et disciplinae ibi vigeant. Aliter enim adolescentes 
 peregrinabuntur cucullati, et foras prospicient parum. 
 Mirabile certe est, in navigationibus, ubi nihil aspici datur 
 praeter coelum et pontum, conficere consuesse homines 
 diaria; verum in peregrinationibus per terram, in quibus tot 
 res occurrunt observandae, plerunque hoc omitti; ac si 
 fortuita magis in codicillos mererentur referri, quam quae 
 de industria observantur. Diaria igitur in usu sint. Res 
 spectandae et observandae sunt istae. Aulae principum; 
 praesertim cum legatos exteros admittunt: judicia et curiae, 
 cum causae perorantur; et similiter consistoria ecclesi¬ 
 astica : templa et monasteria, cum monumentis in illis 
 extantibus: moenia et munitiones urbium et oppidorum: 
 portus et sinus: antiquitates et ruinae: bibliothecae, col¬ 
 legia, disputationes, et praelectiones ubi habentur: nayes 
 et carinae: palatia, et horti magnifici et amoeni prope urbes 
 magnas: armaria: navalia: cellae et horrea publica: loci 
 excambii: bursae: cellae mercium; exercitia equitationum, 
 muneris gladiatorii, militum delectus et instructio, cum 
 similibus : comoediae, illae scilicet ad quas homines melioris 
 notae spectatum veniunt: thesauri monilium et vestium: 
 curiositates et raritates: denique quicquid in locis, quae 
 transeunt, sit celebre aut memorabile. De his omnibus, a 
 tutoribus, aut servis praedictis, diligenter inquirendum, 
 j Quantum ad triumphos, saltationes sub larva, convivia, 
 | nuptias, funera, supplicia capitalia, et hujusmodi specta¬ 
 cula, non opus est ut reducantur hominibus in memoriam; 
 attamen non sunt certe illa prorsus negligenda. Si tibi 
 cordi sit, fructum peregrinationis adolescentis in com¬ 
 pendium redigere, utque brevi spatio multum colligat, hoc 
 faciendum praecipio. Primo (ut dictum est) in lingua 
 aliquis profectus faciendus antequam proficiscatur. Tum 
 vol. xv. u 
 
290 DE PEREGRINATIONE IN PARTES EXTERAS. 
 
 adjungendus est, servus aliquis aut tutor, qui regionem 
 pernorit, ut et jam dictum est. Habeat etiam praesto 
 librum aliquem, aut chartam chorographicam, regionis 
 illius, ubi peregrinatur; quae instar clavis erit ad inqui¬ 
 rendum. Conficiat etiam diarium. Ne moretur longius, 
 in una urbe, aut oppido: plus certe aut minus, prout locus 
 meretur, sed minime diu. Imo, dum moratur in aliqua 
 civitate, aut oppido, mutet saepius hospitium, ex una parte 
 oppidi in alteram; nam et hoc certe magnes est attrahendi 
 familiaritates, et consuetudines hominum complurium. 
 Secludat se ut plurimum a consortio popularium suorum, 
 atque in iis locis victitet, ubi simul convivantur homines 
 melioris notae, ex natione ubi peregrinatur. Etiam cum 
 de loco in locum itineratur, paret sibi literas commenda¬ 
 torias, ad personam aliquam eminentiorem, degentem in 
 loco quo se transfert; ut ejus favore et opera utatur, in iis, 
 quae spectare aut cognoscere desiderat. Hoc modo pere¬ 
 grinationis utilitatem accelerare poterit. Quatenus ad 
 familiaritates et amicitias, quae inter peregrinandum adjun¬ 
 gendae sunt; utilissima omnium est illa secretariorum, et 
 ministrorum interiorum quibus legati utuntur: hoc enim 
 pacto, in una regione peregrinando, etiam plurium regionum 
 notitiam et experientiam, ad se attrahet, et suget. Visitet 
 etiam et adeat personas in unoquoque genere egregias, 
 quae magni apud exteros nominis sunt; ut possit notare 
 quomodo os, vultus, et corporis lineamenta et motus, 
 respondeant famae. Quantum ad rixas et simultates, cum 
 cura et diligentia sunt illae vitandae. Oboriuntur saepissime 
 circa amores, compotationes, praesidentiam, et verba contu¬ 
 meliosa. Et caveat imprimis quivis a consortio hominum 
 iracundorum, et qui facile inimicitias suscipiunt; illi enim 
 eum suis immiscebunt contentionibus: quando peregrinator 
 domum revertitur, nihilominus regiones, in quibus peregri¬ 
 natus est, non relinquat prorsus pone se: verum conservet, 
 et colat amicitiam eorum, cum quibus familiaritatem con¬ 
 traxit, (iis dico qui sunt ex dignioribus,) per literas. Et 
 peregrinatio sua potius manifestetur et appareat in ser¬ 
 monibus suis, quam in vestitu, aut gestu: etiam in ser¬ 
 monibus suis, potius meditetur quid sobrie respondeat, 
 quam ad narrationes facilis et pronus sit. Illud etiam 
 in eo sit conspicuum, quod mores patrios cum moribus 
 exteris, non commutaverit: sed potius quod consuetudines 
 patrias, iis quse peregre didicit, tanquam floribus, asper¬ 
 serit. 
 
291 
 
 XIX. DE IMPERIO. 
 
 Miser procul dubio est animi status, pauca habere quse 
 appetas, multa quae metuas: attamen hoc ipsum regibus 
 fere proprium est: qui in supremo gradu collocati, non 
 habent ad quod aspirent; id quod animos eorum reddit 
 languidiores: atque e contra habent phantasmata plurima 
 periculorum et umbrarum volitantium; id quod animos 
 eorum reddit minus serenos. Hinc etiam emanat et alter 
 ille effectus, quem Scriptura regibus tribuit; “ ut cor regis 
 sit inscrutabileetenim suspicionum multitudo, et absentia 
 affectus alicujus prsedominantis qui reliquis imperet, cu- 
 jusvis animum reddit exploratu difficilem. Hinc quoque 
 emanat et illud; quod reges ssepenumero desideria sibi 
 ipsis creent, atque ad nugas animum adjiciant: interdum 
 ad aedificia extruenda; interdum ad ordinem aliquem aut 
 collegium instituendum; interdum ad personam aliquam 
 evehendam; interdum ad artem aliquam mechanicam aut 
 manus excellentiam exercendam; ut Nero studuit pulsandae 
 cytharae, Domitianus sagittis colliniandis, Commodus gla¬ 
 diatoriae, Caracalla aurigationi. Hoc illis incredibile 
 videtur, qui axioma illud non norunt: Animum huma¬ 
 num, magis exhilarari et refici, progrediendo in rebus 
 parvis, quam consistendo in rebus grandibus. Videre 
 etiam est reges, qui sub imperii sui initiis, in victoriis et 
 provinciis subjugandis, maxime fcelices fuerunt; cum vix 
 possibile sit ut perpetuos progressus faciant, verum ut 
 fortunam suam aliquando adversam et retrogradam expe¬ 
 riantur ; sub fine superstitiosos et melancholicos evasisse: 
 uti contigit Alexandro Magno, Dioclesiano, ac nostra setate 
 Carolo quinto; et aliis. Qui enim progredi semper con¬ 
 suevit, et in obicem tandem impingitur, sui ipsius favore 
 excidit, neque amplius res est quse fuit. 
 
 Dicamus nunc de vera imperii temperatura; quam 
 servare, res ardua est, et rara. Etenim tam temperies, 
 quam intemperies, ex contrariis consistunt. Verum alia 
 res est, contraria miscere, alia alternare. Responsum 
 Apollonii, egregia prudentia plenum est. Interrogabat eum 
 Vespasianus; “ Quid Neroni ruinse fuisset V’ Respondit; 
 “ Nero cytharam perite pulsare, et accommodare noverat; 
 at in imperando, chordas interdum nimium distendebat, 
 interdum eas nimium relaxabat.” Atque certissimum est; 
 nihil auctoritatem seque destruere, ac insequalem, et quasi 
 
292 
 
 DE IMPERIO. 
 
 subsultoriam, atque intempestivam potentiae alternationem, 
 nunc rigidius intensae, nunc laxius remissae. 
 
 Veruntamen et hoc verum est, moderni temporis pru¬ 
 dentiam, circa principum negotia tractanda, in hoc potissi¬ 
 mum versari, ut conquirantur magis et aptentur remedia 
 et subterfugia malorum et periculorum, cum ingruerint; 
 quam ut prudentia solida et constanti, depellantur et sum- 
 moveantur, antequam impendeant. Verum hoc nihil aliud 
 est, quam in agone, cum fortuna, experiri. Caveant autem 
 homines, ne obdormiscant circa turbarum materias primas, 
 et inchoamenta. Nemo siquidem scintillam, incendium 
 parituram, prohibere potest; nec regiones metiri, unde 
 eruptura sit. In principum negotiis, interveniunt procul- 
 dubio, multae difficultates et impedimenta; at saepenumero 
 maxima impedimenta sunt, principum ipsorum affectus et 
 mores. Etenim principibus frequenter accidit, ut contra¬ 
 dictoria plane appetant; sicut recte Tacitus; u Sunt 
 plerunque regum voluntates vehementes, et inter se con¬ 
 trariae.” At potentiae nimiae soloecismus est, credere se 
 posse finem rei pro arbitrio assequi, neque tamen media 
 procurare. 
 
 Regibus intercedit negotium cum nationibus vicinis, 
 cum uxoribus propriis, cum liberis suis, cum praelatis et 
 clero, cum proceribus regni, cum nobilibus secundae classis 
 sive generosis, cum mercatoribus suis, cum plebe regni, 
 cum militibus suis. Atque a singulis horum impendent 
 pericula, nisi adhibeatur cura. 
 
 Quod ad vicinos attinet, praescribi non potest regula 
 aliqua certa cautionis, propter occasionum varietatem; 
 unica excepta; quae semper tenet. Ea est, ut principes 
 huic rei perpetuo invigilent, ne quis ex vicinis in tantum 
 excrescat; (vel novis territorii augmentis, vel commercium 
 ad se trahendo, vel propius accedendo, et similibus;) quo 
 majorem nanciscatur laedendi potestatem, quam antea 
 habuerat. Sane, durante triumviratu illo regum; (Henrico 
 octavo Anglo, Francisco primo Gallo, et Carolo quinto 
 Hispano;) ea yiguit inter ipsos diligentia, ut nemo trium 
 vel palmam terrae acquirere potuisset, quin reliqui duo 
 statim rem ad aequilibrium deducerent; neque pacem 
 fcenore redimere sustinerent. Idemque praestabat foedus 
 illud, (cui Guicciardinus securitatem Italiae attribuit,) 
 ictum inter Ferdinandum regem Neapolitanum; Lorenzium 
 de Medices, et Ludovicum Sforzam, principes; alterum 
 Florentiae, alterum Mediolani. Neque recipienda est 
 opinio, quorundam ex scholasticis; “ Bellum juste suscipi 
 
DE IMPERIO. 
 
 293 
 
 non posse, nisi ob injuriam, aut provocationem praece¬ 
 dentem.” Siquidem justus metus imminentis periculi, 
 etsi violentia aliqua non praecesserit, procul dubio Belli 
 causa est competens et legitima. 
 
 Quantum ad uxores; extant exempla ejus generis cru¬ 
 delia et atrocia. Livia infamis ob veneficium Augusti. 
 Roxolana, uxor Solymanni, perniciem intulit Mustaphae 
 celeberrimo illi principi; atque alias successionem, et 
 domum, mariti sui, perturbavit. Edwardi secundi regis 
 Angliae uxor, operam praebuit praecipuam, in mariti sui 
 de regno deturbatione, et nece. Hoc genus periculi maxime 
 timendum, cum reginae liberos ex priore marito susceperunt, 
 aut in adulterio degunt. 
 
 Quantum ad liberos; ab iis etiam ortae tragoediae plu¬ 
 rimae. Atque generaliter, suspiciones arreptae a patribus, 
 in filios suos, infaustae extiterunt. Mustaphae (quem 
 antea nominavimus) caedes, stirpi Solymanni adeo fatalis 
 fuit, ut successio sultanorum, usque in hodiernum diem, 
 pro suspecto habeatur, velut sanguinis ementiti, quia 
 Selymus secundus putabatur supposititius. Caedes etiam 
 Crispi, principis summae spei, inflicta per patrem suum 
 Constantinum Magnum, similiter ejus familiae fatalis fuit ; 
 siquidem, tam Constantinus, quam Constans, filii ejus, 
 violenta morte perierunt ; et Constantius, qui ex filiis ejus 
 superstes fuit, decessit sane ex morbo, sed non nisi cum 
 Julianus contra eum arma cepisset. Caedes similiter De¬ 
 metrii, Philippi secundi Macedonis filii, vertit se in patrem, 
 qui mortuus est ex moerore et poenitentia. Complura sunt 
 ejusmodi exempla: verum pauca, aut nulla, ubi patres 
 aliquid boni, ex hujusmodi diffidentiis, perceperunt; prae¬ 
 terquam cum filii bellum aperte patribus intulerunt; ut 
 fecit Selymus primus adversus Bajazetem patrem suum; 
 et tres filii Henrici secundi, regis Angliae. 
 
 Quantum ad praelatos; ab illis etiam, si potentes fuerint 
 et superbi, periculum ingruit. Ut contigit temporibus 
 Anselmi, et Thomae Becketti, archi-episcoporum Can- 
 tuariae; quorum baculi pastorales cum regis gladio concer¬ 
 tarunt; licet res illis fuerit, cum regibus animosis et 
 fastuosis; Guilielmo Rufo, Henrico primo, et Henrico 
 secundo. At periculum hujusmodi, a praelatis, non est 
 magnopere pertimescendum, nisi ubi clerus ab auctoritate 
 et jurisdictione principatus externi pendet; aut etiam ubi 
 ecclesiastici eliguntur a populo; non autem a rege, vel 
 patronis ecclesiarum. 
 
 Quantum ad proceres; sunt illi certe cohibendi, et tan- 
 
294 
 
 DE IMPERIO. 
 
 quam in justa distantia a solio regali continendi; verum 
 depressio ipsorum, poterit regem fortasse ipsum magis 
 absolutum reddere, sed interim minus tutum; et minus 
 efficacem ad ea quae cupit perficienda. Hoc notavi, in 
 historia mea regni Henrici septimi, qui nobiles suos per¬ 
 petuo deprimebat: unde factum, ut tempora ejus difficul¬ 
 tatibus et turbis plena essent. Nobiles enim, etsi in fide 
 et officio, versus eum manserint, attamen minime cum eo 
 cooperabantur in negotiis suis; ita ut ipse fere omnia solus 
 sustineret. 
 
 Quatenus ad nobiles secundae classis; parum periculi 
 ,ab illis manare potest, cum sint corpus dispersum. Pote- 
 rint illi quidem nonnunquam grandia loqui, sed non 
 multum nocere. Quinimo fovendi sunt, tanquam qui 
 potentiam nobilitatis superioris optime temperent, ne im¬ 
 modice excrescat: atque rursus cum populi gubernacula 
 immediate tractent, motus populares optime compescunt. 
 
 Quod ad mercatores; sunt illi instar venae portae: qui 
 nisi floruerint, potest quidem regnum aliquod, artus habere 
 robustos, sed venas vacuas, et habitum corporis macrum. 
 Vectigalia et portoria immodica, raro regis reditus adau¬ 
 gent. Etenim quod in partibus lucretur, in summa deper¬ 
 dit ; commercii quanto diminuto. 
 
 Quantum ad plebem; ab iis raro creatur periculum, nisi 
 habeant ductores potentes et populares; aut si introducas 
 mutationem in religione ; vel in consuetudinibus antiquis; 
 vel in gravaminibus tributorum; vel in aliis quae victum 
 eorum decurtant. 
 
 Quantum denique ad milites; periculosissima res est, si 
 in corpus unum cogantur, vel exercitus, vel praesidiorum; 
 et donativis insuescant. Cujus clarissima cernimus exem¬ 
 pla, in janizariis et praetorianis. Verum militum con¬ 
 scriptio, et ad arma tractanda instructio, et in locis diversis, 
 et sub diversis ducibus, et sine donativis; res sunt utiles, 
 et salubres, et sine periculo. 
 
 Principes corporibus coelestibus similes : quae tempora 
 felicia, aut infelicia, in fluxu suo producunt; quaeque 
 veneratione multa gaudent, requie nulla. Omnia circa 
 reges praecepta, duobus illis monitis clauduntur; “ Memento 
 quod es homo;” et, u Memento quod es Deus, seu Vice- 
 dei:” quorum alterum pertinet ad potestatem eorum coer¬ 
 cendam, alterum ad voluntatem regendam. 
 
295 
 
 XX. DE CONSILIO. 
 
 Summa quae intercedit inter homines fides, est illa con¬ 
 silium impertiendi. Etenim in alio quovis fidei genere, 
 partes tantum vitae aliis commendamus; terras, bona, 
 liberos, existimationem, et alia negotia particularia; verum 
 iis quos nobis consiliarios adhibemus, omnia mandamus. 
 Quanto magis, qui partes consiliariorum praestant, ad 
 omnem integritatem et sinceritatem astringuntur ? principes 
 vel prudentissimi, nullo modo in diminutionem auctoritatis 
 accipiant, si consilio virorum selectorum utantur. Quin et 
 Deus ipse consilio non vacat; sed inter nomina magna 
 Filii sui benedicti ponit; ut consiliarius vocetur. Solo- 
 monis certe pronunciatum tale: “ In consilio stabilitas.” 
 Res humanae procul dubio, aut primam, aut secundam 
 agitationem subibunt: si minus consultationum argumentis 
 jactentur, certe fluctibus fortunae jactabuntur ; plenaeque 
 evadent, inconstantiae, et mutationum, modo texendae, modo 
 retexendae, instar vacillationum hominis ebrii. Sane filius 
 Solomonis vim consilii expertus est, quemadmodum pater 
 ejus necessitatem et usum vidit. Etenim regnum Deo 
 dilectum, primo laceratum et fractum est, consilio pravo. 
 Cui quidem consilio inustae sunt, ut nobis sint documento, 
 notae illae duae, per quas consilia prava, in perpetuum, 
 dignoscantur; una, quod fuerit consilium juvenile quoad 
 personas; altera, quod fuerit violentum quoad subjectum. 
 
 Sapientia veterum in parabola adumbravit, tam unionem 
 et insolubilem conjunctionem consilii cum regibus; quam 
 prudentem et politicum usum ejusdem per reges adhi¬ 
 bendum. Alterum in eo, quod Jovem narrant Metim, (quae 
 vox consilium significat,) in uxorem duxisse; in quo 
 innuunt consilium imperio sponsae loco esse. Alterum in 
 eo quod sequitur: quod hujusmodi commentum est. Tra¬ 
 dunt, postquam Metis nupta fuisset Jovi, eam gravidam ex 
 illo factam: Jovem autem non sustinuisse donec pareret, 
 sed eam devorasse; unde ipsum quoque gravidum factum, 
 et Palladem armatam ex capite suo edidisse. Quae fabula 
 portentosa arcanum imperii involvit: hoc nimirum; ad 
 quem modum reges, erga consilium suum sanctius, se 
 gerere debeant: primum, ut res deliberandas illis commit¬ 
 tant ; quod est veluti prima conceptio: secundo, cum 
 elaboratae et efformatae fuerint, veluti in utero consilii sui ; 
 atque maturuerint, et partui vicinae sint; tum demum non 
 permittant amplius consilio suo ut decretum perficiant, ac si 
 
296 
 
 DE CONSILIO. 
 
 res ex eorum auctoritate penderet; sed negotium ad se 
 retrahant, et palam omnibus faciant; decreta et ordinationes 
 ultimas, (quae, quoniam cum prudentia et potestate exeunt, 
 assimilantur Palladi armatse,) a seipsis emanare : neque 
 solum ab auctoritate sua, verum etiam, (quo magis existi¬ 
 mationem suam evehant,) ab ingenio et auctoritate propria 
 provenire. 
 
 Dicamus jam de incommodis consilii; et de ipsorum 
 remediis. Incommoda, quae se produnt, in consilio utendo, 
 et adhibendo, sunt tria. Primo, quod haec res, negotio 
 minus reddat secreta. Secundo, quod derogare videatur 
 de auctoritate principum, ac si minus ex se penderent. 
 Tertio, quod subsit periculum a consiliis infidelibus, quae 
 tendant potius in commodum consulentis, quam principis 
 ipsius. Ad quae mala evitanda, doctrina quorundam ex 
 Italis; et practica apud Gallos, temporibus quorundam 
 regum, introduxit consilia interiora, quae vulgo vocantur 
 cabinetti: remedium sane morbo deterius. 
 
 Quantum ad occultationem consiliorum; non tenentur 
 principes, omnia cum omnibus consiliariis communicare; 
 sed tam personas, quam negotia, cum delectu, excerpere 
 possunt. Neque necesse est principi, qui deliberat quid 
 sit agendum, simul detegere quid in animo habeat statuere. 
 Verum caveant principes, ne propalationis negotiorum 
 suorum, ipsi in causa sint. Quatenus vero ad consilia, 
 quos diximus cabinettos, in illos diverbium illud competit; 
 “ Plenus rimarum sum.” Futilis quispiam, qui gloriae sibi 
 duxerit, arcana nosse et retegere ; plus nocebit, quam com¬ 
 plures, qui bene norunt, officii sui esse, eadem reticere. 
 Verum est, intervenire negotia quaedam, ejus generis, quae 
 occultationem summam requirunt, qualis non facile ultra 
 notitiam unius aut duorum praeter ipsum regem, excedet; 
 rieque improspere cedere solent istiusmodi consilia: nam 
 praeterquam quod secreta sint, procedunt plerunque con¬ 
 stanter, et uno quasi spiritu reguntur, absque contentione. 
 Sed tum demum, hoc recte cedet, si rex prudens sit, et 
 proprio marte validus; et simul consiliarii illi sint sagaces ; 
 et ante omnia, finibus, quos sibi proponit rex, fidi. Id 
 quod contigit Henrico septimo Angliae regi: qui arcana sua 
 majoris momenti, duobus tantummodo consiliariis imper¬ 
 tiebatur, Mortono, et Foxo. 
 
 Quantum ad auctoritatem minuendam ; fabula remedium 
 monstrat. Imo majestas regum, exaltatur potius quam 
 deprimitur, cum in cathedra consilii sedeant. Neque un- 
 
DE CONSILIO. 
 
 297 
 
 quam invenire est principem, auctoritate sua imminutum, 
 per consilium suum; nisi forte ubi obtigerit, potentia 
 nimia in uno aliquo consiliario ; aut nimis arcta combinatio 
 inter diversos: quae duo mala cito deprehenduntur, et 
 sanantur. 
 
 \ 
 
 Quantum ad postremum incommodum; consiliarios 
 nimirum, in consilio dando, suae rei prospecturos, non 
 domini; minime dubium est; Scripturam illam; “ Non 
 inveniet fidem super terram,” intelligi debere de natura 
 temporum, minime de personis singulis. Reperiuntur 
 siquidem viri, fideles, sinceri, candidi, et veraces; minime 
 | vafri aut involuti. Asciscant sibi principes, ante omnia, 
 ingenia talia. Praeterea consiliarii raro ita inter se uniuntur, 
 quin alius super alium excubias agat; adeo ut, si quis 
 consilia det factiosa, aut ad privatos fines colliniantia, 
 celeriter hoc ad aures principis deveniet. Remedium 
 j autem praestantissimum fuerit, si reges dent operam ut con¬ 
 siliarios suos pernoscant; quemadmodum illi, ut principem ; 
 
 Principis est virtus maxima nosse suos. 
 
 Contra vero, consiliarios non decet, nimios esse rimatores, 
 in personam principis sui. Vera enim consiliarii constitutio 
 haec ; ut peritior sit in negotiis principis, quam in moribus 
 ejus. Sic enim verisimile fiet, eum consilium potius recta 
 directurum, quam se principi accommodaturum quo com¬ 
 placeat. Principibus etiam hoc magno usui esse possit; si 
 opiniones et vota consiliariorum suorum, et divisim, et con- 
 junctim, recipiant. Etenim opinio, in secreto prolata, 
 liberior multo est; sed illa quae coram aliis, gravior. Nani 
 in privato quisque propriis affectibus plus inservit; in 
 consortio aliorum affectibus magis obnoxius est: itaque 
 neutrum omittendum; atque ab inferioribus, in privato 
 potius, ut libertati consulatur; a grandioribus, in consortio 
 potius, ut modestius sententiam ferant. Nil prodest, si 
 principes de rebus deliberent, nisi diligenter quoque delibe¬ 
 rent de personis : etenim res omnes, tanquam imagines 
 I mortuae; vita autem actionis in delectu personarum potis¬ 
 simum consistit. Neque sufficit de personis deliberare, 
 secundum genera, veluti in idaea quadam, aut descriptione 
 mathematica; qualis videlicet character et conditio personae 
 esse debeat: etenim errores maximi interveniunt, et judicii 
 libra maxime versatur, in delectu individuorum. Illud 
 quoque memoria tenendum ; optimi consiliarii mortui: 
 fibri veritati non parcunt, cum consiliarii forte in adula- 
 
298 
 
 DE CONSILIO. 
 
 tionem lapsuri sint. Utile itaque fuerit, libros multum 
 revolvere; praesertim eorum auctorum, qui et ipsi guber¬ 
 nacula rerum tractarunt. 
 
 Consilia, hac aetate, in locis plurimis, nihil aliud fere 
 sunt, quam congressus, et colloquia familiaria: ubi res 
 potius sermonibus jactentur, quam debitis argumentis truti- 
 nentur. Atque plerunque praecipitanter nimis, ad decretum 
 vel actum consilii, properatur. Satius esset, si in majoris 
 momenti negotiis, res uno die deliberanda proponeretur, 
 altero tractaretur; “ In nocte consilium.” Id certe prae¬ 
 stitum est, in tractatu unionis, inter delegatos Angli.se et 
 Scotiae; qui conventus, regulariter, et optimo ordine, pro¬ 
 cessit. Ad petitiones autem privatas, dies aliquos praefigi 
 probo: nam et supplicantibus tempora certa indicant, 
 quibus commodius se applicent; et solenniores conventus 
 exonerant, ut possint hoc agere. In delectu deputatorum, 
 qui negotia ad consilium informandum praeparent, praestat 
 eos eligere, qui aequi sint, et in neutram partem propen¬ 
 deant ; quam aequitatem quandam creare, introducendo 
 aliquos qui utrique parti sedulo faveant. Probo etiam 
 delegationes, non tantum temporaneas, aut e re nata; sed 
 etiam continuatas, et perpetuas. Exempli gratia; quae 
 curent separatim, commercia ; aerarium ; bellum; gratias ; 
 gravamina ; provincias particulares. Sane, ubi in usu sunt 
 consilia subordinata diversa, atque unicum tantum superius 
 consilium, (ut sit in Hispania,) nihil aliud fere sunt ejus¬ 
 modi consilia, quam deputationes (quales diximus) per¬ 
 petuae, nisi quod majore auctoritate polleant. Si casus 
 postulet, ut informetur consilium, ab hominibus alicujus 
 muneris aut professionis particularis, (veluti jurisperitis, 
 nauticis, excusoribus nummorum, mercatoribus, artificibus, 
 et similibus,) audiantur illi primo coram delegatis; et 
 postea, prout occasio postulat, coram consilio. Neque 
 permittantur venire catervatim, aut more tribunitio se 
 gerere; hoc enim foret, clamoribus consilium fatigare, non 
 informationem, ut decet, exhibere. Mensa oblonga, et 
 rursus quadrata, sive sedes ad parietes camerae consilii, 
 -videri possunt, formalia tantum, sed sunt profecto realia: 
 nam ad mensam oblongam, pauci qui prioribus locis 
 sedent, res quasi soli transigunt; verum in aliis, quas 
 diximus, figuris, major usus consiliariorum qui inferius 
 sedent. Rex, cum praesidet ipse in consilio, caveat, ne 
 sententiam suam, citius quam par est, declaret: hoc si 
 fecerit, consiliarii se ad nutum ejus applicabunt; et loco 
 consilii liberi, canticum ei occinent; “ placebo.” 
 
299 
 
 XXI. DE MORA. 
 
 Fortuna foro rerum voenalium similis est; ubi stepe (si 
 paululum expectare poteris,) minuetur pretium. Rursus, 
 aliquando Sibyllee licitationibus assimilatur; quse primo 
 plenas offert merces, mox partes aliquas consumens, inte¬ 
 grum tamen pretium postulat. Nam “ occasio (ut in trito 
 habetur carmine,) occipitium nobis obvertit calvum, 
 postquam capillorum in fronte copiam fecit non arripi¬ 
 entibus vel saltem utris ansam praebet primo accipiendam; 
 dein ventrem, qui difficilius comprehenditur. Nusquam 
 certe major apparet sapientia, quam in tempestivis nego¬ 
 tiorum auspiciis, principiisque eligendis: non jam levia 
 sunt pericula, si levia videantur; et plura pericula fefel¬ 
 lerunt, quam vim intulerunt. Quinimo, satius est, quibus¬ 
 dam periculis, quasi media via occurrere, quam eorum 
 motus, et appropinquationem, perpetuo inquirere, et ob¬ 
 servare. “ Qui enim nimium invigilat, interdum dormitat. ,, 
 E-contrario, umbrarum longitudine decipi, (ut quidam 
 olim, quando luna horizonti proxima, hostium terga irra¬ 
 diabat,) atque ita ante tempus tela emittere ; aut pericula, 
 praemature obviando, accersere, alterum est extremum. 
 Nam opportunitatis maturitas, vel immaturitas, est (ut 
 antea diximus) ad amussim examinanda. Ac, ut plurimum, 
 expedit, omnium magnorum negotiorum principia, Argo 
 cum centum oculis suis, exitus vero, Briareo cum centum 
 manibus suis, committere: primum scilicet invigilare, 
 postea accelerare. Etenim Orci galea, quae politicum 
 vere reddit invisibilem, est, consiliorum occultatio, et expe¬ 
 ditionum celeritas. Cum enim ad executionem ventum sit, 
 nulla occultatio celeritati est aequiparanda; more globuli e 
 tormento emissi, qui tam velocitur pertransit, ut ipsam 
 oculorum aciem antevertat. 
 
 XXII. DE ASTUTIA. 
 
 Per astutiam intelligimus, sinistram quandam et obliquam 
 prudentiam. Et pro certo est, multum interesse, inter 
 astutum, et prudentem; non solum, quatenus ad probi¬ 
 tatem, sed etiam quatenus ad mentis vires. Sunt qui 
 chartas pictas artificio quodam miscere sciunt, qui tamen 
 periti lusores non sunt; sunt itidem nonnulli, qui in com¬ 
 petitionibus, et factionibus regendis, multum valent, alias 
 
300 
 
 DE ASTUTIA. 
 
 vero infirmi judicii sunt. Rursus, alia res est personarum 
 naturas et mores callere, alia vero negotia pernosse: sunt 
 enim haud pauci, qui in personarum aditibus, et tem¬ 
 poribus, versuti sunt, neque tamen partis realis, negotiorum, 
 sunt capaces: quae est constitutio ipsissima hominum; 
 qui in personis dignoscendis, non in libris evolvendis, 
 operam collocarunt. Tales magis in pragmaticis adhiberi 
 debent, quam in consiliis; et non aliter fere usum sui 
 praebent, quam in viis, quas saepe contriverunt. Converte 
 eos ad homines novos, et artibus suis excidunt: adeo ut, 
 vetus illa regula, stultum a sapiente dignoscendi, (“ Mitte 
 ambos ad ignotos et videbis,”) de hujusmodi hominibus 
 non teneat. Quoniam autem astuti isti homines, similes 
 sunt pusillarum mercium propolis, non abs re fuerit, 
 officinas ipsorum excutere. 
 
 Inter astutias numerari potest, ut quis vultum ejus cum 
 quo colloquitur, limatius observet: quod etiam jesuitae 
 praecipiunt Sunt enim complures, iique ex prudentioribus, 
 qui corda habent obscura, vultus autem pellucidos. Verum, 
 decet hoc fieri, cum modesta oculorum, per vices demis¬ 
 sione, quemadmodum et faciunt jesuitae. 
 
 Altera existit astutia, ut cum aliquid propere, et facile 
 obtinere et expedire cupias, personam cum qua agis, de 
 alio quopiam negotio sermonem inferendo, deteneas et 
 praeoccupes; ne nimium ad objectiones et scrupulos evi¬ 
 gilet. Equidem noveram consiliarium quendam, et secre¬ 
 tarium, qui nunquam ad Elizabetham reginam Angliae, ad 
 diplomata manu reginae signanda, accessit, quin a principio 
 illam, in aliquos de rebus status gravioribus sermones per¬ 
 duceret, ut hisce intenta ad diplomata minus animum 
 adjiceret. 
 
 Idem valet subitae prehensionis ratio, si quis rem pro¬ 
 ponat, quando persona, cum qua agitur, ad alia festinat, 
 neque moram pati potest rem accuratius considerandi. 
 
 Si cui in animo est, negotium aliquod destruere, quod 
 alius fortasse quispiam dextre et cum effectu propositurus 
 fuisset, ipse se erga negotium bene affectum simulet, atque 
 ipse rem proponat, sed eo modo, ut successum ejus dis¬ 
 turbet. 
 
 Abruptio sermonis in medio, quasi quis seipsum depre¬ 
 henderet, et contineret, majorem generat appetitum, in eo 
 quocum colloqueris, ad ulterius inquirendum. 
 
 Quoniam autem imprimit fortius quod quaestione erutum 
 est, quam quod sponte oblatum, possis ad inescandam 
 quaestionem insolitum induere vultum: ex quo occasio 
 
DE ASTUTI4. 
 
 301 
 
 detur alteri interrogandi, quid sibi velit ista oris mutatio? 
 Ut Nehemias fecit; “ Neque ante illud tempus tristis 
 fueram in conspectu regis.” 
 
 In rebus ambiguis, et ingratis bonum est initia, de iis 
 sermonem inferendi, alicui alteri deputare, cujus verba 
 minoris sint ponderis, et majoris auctoritatis vocem, in 
 subsidiis reservare, vel uti casu fortuito intervenientem, ut 
 interrogetur ille superveniens, de eo sermone, qui ab altero 
 injectus est. Quod fecit Narcissus, cum indicaret Claudio, 
 matrimonium Messalinae et Silii. 
 
 In rebus, quas a se amoliri quis cupiat, non inutile est, 
 vulgi nomen mutuari: ac si quis tali formula utatur; “ Hoc 
 vulgo dicitur,” aut “ Increbuit sermo.” 
 
 Noveram quendam, qui cum literas scriberet, id, quod 
 maximi erat momenti, post-scripto semper includebat, ut 
 rem fere praetermissam. 
 
 Noveram et alium, qui cum ad colloquium cum alio 
 veniret, id quod maxime ei in sermone curae erat, praeterire 
 solitus erat, et discedere, et rursus redire, et tum demum 
 ejus rei mentionem facere, ac si illa fere e memoria exci¬ 
 disset. 
 
 Alii se subito deprehendi procurant, tali tempore, quo 
 verisimile est, partem cui insidiantur, superventuram: ac 
 simul se chartam aliquam, in manu habentes, aut aliquid 
 praeter consuetudinem agentes, inveniri volunt; ut interro¬ 
 gentur de iis rebus, quas revera ipsi eloqui cupiunt. 
 
 Astutiae species satis vafra est, ea verba proprio nomine 
 prolata, sibi excidere pati, quae alium arripere, et iis uti, 
 quis expetit, ut inde alterum irretiat, et subruat. Noveram 
 duos, pro officio secretarii, tempore reginae Elizabethae 
 competitores; qui tamen se invicem amice tractabant. 
 Quique de negotio ipso competitionis suae saepius confe¬ 
 rebant : atque alter ipsorum dicebat; “ Fieri secretarium 
 in declinatione monarchiae,” rem esse haud parvi periculi; 
 seque illud genus honoris minime ambire. Alter statim 
 verba illa, callide prolata, bona fide arripuit; et cum 
 amicis suis nonnullis libere sermones conseruit, dicens, se 
 in declinatione monarchiae muneris secretarii ambitiosum 
 esse non debere. Prior ille occasione usus est, eaque verba 
 ut ad reginae aures pervenirent, tanquam scilicet ab altero 
 prolata curavit: quae indignata circa illa verba, in decli¬ 
 natione monarchiae, cum ipsa se vigentem reputaret, pos¬ 
 terioris illius competitionem, nunquam postea admisit. 
 
 Est astutiae quoddam genus, quod Anglico proverbio, 
 
 “ Felem in aheno vertere,” satis absurde dicitur; cum ea 
 
302 
 
 DE ASTUTTA. 
 
 verba, quae quis apud alium profert, imputat colloquenti, 
 tanquam ab ipso prolata. Et, ut verum dicamus, cum 
 talia aliqua verba inter duos agitata fuerint, difficile est 
 probare et verificare, ab utro primum incceperint. 
 
 Est artificium in usu, ut quis in alios spicula quaedam 
 oblique torqueat, justificando seipsum, per negativas, ut- 
 pote dicendo; “ Hoc ego non facio;” ut tigillinus fecit 
 JBurrhum sugillando ; “ Se non diversas spes, sed inco¬ 
 lumitatem imperatoris, simplicitur spectare.” 
 
 Nonnulli in promptu habent tot narrationes et historiolas, 
 ut nihil sit quod insinuare cupiunt, quin id historiola aliqua 
 involvere possint: unde, et semagis in tuto continent, quasi 
 nihil diserte affirmantes, et rem ipsam majore cum voluptate 
 spargi efficiunt. 
 
 Bonum est astutiae genus, ut quis responsum, quod 
 obtinere cupit, conceptis verbis proponat. Etenim alteram 
 partem minus haerere facit. 
 
 Mirum est cernere, quamdiu nonnulli occasionem captent, 
 dicendi illud, quod proferre cupiunt, et quanto circuitu uti 
 sustineant; et quot alia attingere, ut quo volunt perveniant. 
 Res certe haec, magnae patientiae, sed multi usus. 
 
 Improvisa, et audax quaestio, aliquando hominem depre¬ 
 hendit, et detegit. Simile quiddam evenit cuidam, qui 
 nomen mutaverat, et in templo divi Pauli obambulans, fuit 
 ab alio, per nomen suum verum, a tergo compellatus, ad 
 quod statim retrospexit. Verum merces hae pusillae, et 
 astutiae minores, sunt infinitae. Neque male factum esset, 
 si quis earum conficeret uberiorem calalogum; Quoniam 
 nihil rebus obest magis, quam quod astuti recipiantur pro 
 prudentibus. 
 
 Illud pro certo habendum, nonnullos, negotiorum periodos 
 et pausas, nosse, qui in ipsorum viscera, et interiora, pene¬ 
 trare nequeunt: ut reperiuntur aedes nonnullae, quae gradus 
 nactae sunt commodos, et anticameras, sed absque cubiculo 
 aliquo pulchriore. Itaque tales videbis in conclusionibus 
 deliberationum commodos quosdam exitus reperire. Ad 
 rem vero examinandam, et disceptandam, nullo modo 
 sufficere. Attamen, saepenumero ex hac re existimationem 
 quandam aucupantur; veluti ingenia quae ad decernendum, 
 potius quam disputandum, sint aptiora. Sunt qui magis 
 innituntur dolis, quos aliis struunt; quam consiliis solidis 
 et sanis ; sed Solomon ait; “ Prudens advertit ad gressus 
 suos ; stultus divertit ad dolos.” 
 
303 
 
 
 XXIII. DE PRUDENTIA QU.E SIBI SAPIT. 
 
 Formica animalculum sibi sapiens, sed in horto nocivum. 
 Et sane fit, ut qui sui nimium amantes sint, reipublicae 
 laedant. Partire itaque moderate, inter amorem tui ipsius, 
 et amorem reipublicse: atque ita tibi sis proximus, ut in 
 alios non sis injurius: praesertim, in regem tuum, aut 
 patriam. Centrum plane ignobile est, actionum hominis 
 cujuspiam; commodum proprium. Recte terrestrem na¬ 
 turam sapit. Terra enim suo stat fixa centro; ubi quae 
 affinia coelestibus sunt omnia, moventur super centrum 
 alterius, cui benefaciunt. Ad se omnia referre, tolerabilius 
 est in viris principibus ; quia ipsi intra personam suam non 
 consistunt; sed publico periculo, et fortuna, degunt. Verum 
 in servo principis, aut cive reipublicse res est perniciosissima. 
 Etenim negotia publica universa, quae ab id genus homine 
 expediuntur, ad Fines proprios flectuntur; quos necesse 
 est, eccentricos saepe esse, ad fines domini, sive status sui. 
 Eligant itaque principes, et status, ministros et servos, qui 
 hac nota non maculantur; nisi velint res suas accessorii 
 tantum loco esse. Imo quod hunc effectum reddit magis 
 exitiosum, illud est; quod amittitur plane rerum analogia. 
 Satis enim iniquum esset, si bonum servi, praeferatur bono 
 domini; sed adhuc longe iniquius est, cum exiguum bonum 
 servi, antefertur magno bono domini. Veruntamen id 
 saepius factum est, per officiarios pravos; veluti thesau¬ 
 rarios, legatos, duces, et alios servos aut ministros infideles 
 et improbos : qui globulo suo pondus addunt finium suorum 
 minutorum, quod eum in transversum inclinet utilitatis 
 domini sui, in rebus gravioribus et magni momenti. Et 
 plerunque commodum, quod ejusmodi servi ad se attrahunt, 
 est pro modulo fortunae propriae ; at detrimentum, quocum 
 permutent commodum illud, est pro modulo fortunae domini 
 sui. Siquidem philantorurn istiusmodi ingenium patitur; 
 ut non morentur domum proximi incendere, pro re nihilo 
 majore, quam ad assanda ova sua. Veruntamen hujusmodi 
 ministri, haud raro, apud viros potentes, gratia pollent; 
 quia illis jucunda procurant, sibi utilia: atque utriusvis 
 rei causa, fortunam domini sui prodent. 
 
 Prudentia quae sibi uni sapit, in plurimis ejus ramis, res 
 sane depravata. Assimilanda sapientiae soricum, qui 
 domum aliquam pro certo deserent, paulo ante ruinam: 
 sapientiae vulpis, quae taxonem e domo expellit, quam sibi 
 defodit, non illi: sapientiae crocodili, qui lachrymas emittit, 
 
304 
 
 DE PRUDENTIA QU.E SIBI SAPIT. 
 
 cum devorare cupit. Verum illud imprimis observationem 
 meretur; quod hujusmodi homines, qui (ut Cicero loquitur 
 de Pompeio,) “ sui sunt amantes sine rivalisaepenumero 
 infortunati sint: cumque sibi, per totam vitam, sacrifica¬ 
 verint, in exitu sacrificant inconstantiae fortunae; cujus 
 alas sperabant se pulchra illa sapientia sua praescidisse. 
 
 XXIV. DE INNOVATIONIBUS. 
 
 Sicut partus recens editi informes sunt, sic videre est in 
 novis institutis, quae sunt partus temporis. Veruntamen, 
 ut qui in familiam suam honores primi introducunt, posteris 
 suis plerunq; dignitate praelucent; ita rerum exemplaria, 
 et primordia, (quando feliciter jacta sunt,) imitationem 
 aetatis sequentis, ut plurimum, superant. Malum enim, in 
 natura humana, naturali motu fertur, qui processu inva¬ 
 lescit ; at bonum, ut fieri amat in violentis motibus, in pri¬ 
 mo impetu fortissimum. Certe, omnis medicina innovatio 
 est: et qui nova remedia accipere nolit, nova mala expectet. 
 Novator enim maximus omnium tempus. Quod si tempus, 
 decursu solo, res in pejus ferat; prudentia vero et industria, 
 eas in melius restituere non contendat, quis tandem erit 
 finis mali? Hoc concedi prorsus debet; quod consuetudine 
 firmatum est, etsi minus sit bonum, aptum esse tamen 
 temporibus; quaeque uno quasi alveo fluxerunt, foedere 
 quodam conjuncta esse; ubi contra nova veteribus non 
 usquequaque tam concinne cohaereant: Etsi enim utilitate 
 juvent; novitate tamen et inconformitate turbant. Sunt 
 certe novitates, tanquam advenae aut peregrini, quos 
 admiratione plus, minus benevolentia prosequimur. Recte 
 quidem haec omnia, si tempus quiesceret; hoc tamen inde¬ 
 fesse in orbem agitatur. Inde fit, ut importuna et morosa 
 moris retentio, res turbulenta sit, aeque ac novitas ; et qui 
 vetera superstitiose nimis reverentur, cedant in praesentis 
 seculi ludibrium. Prudenter igitur facient homines, si, in 
 innovationibus suis, a tempore exemplum petant: tempus 
 enim innovat vel maxime, sed tacite, pedetentim, ac sine 
 sensu. Illud enim pro certo habeas; quod novum est 
 praeter spem et expectationem accedere; et huic adjicere 
 aliquid, illi eripere; at cui incremento est novitas, ille 
 fortunae gratias habet, et tempori; cui vero nocumento, is 
 novitatis auctorem injuriarum postulat. Expedit praeterea, 
 experimentis novis, in corporibus politicis medendis, non 
 uti; nisi urgens incumbat necessitas, aut evidens se 
 
DE INNOVATIONIBUS. 
 
 305 
 
 ostendat utilitas : et sedulo cavere, ut reformationis studium 
 mutationem inducat, non autem studium mutationis refor¬ 
 mationem praetexat. Quinetiam omnis novitas, quam 
 rejicere fortasse non datur, pro suspecta tamen haberi 
 debet. Denique,' ex Scripturae monito; “ Stemus super 
 vias antiquas, atque circumspiciamus, quae sit via bona, et 
 recta, et ambulemus in ea.” 
 
 XXV. DE EXPEDIENDIS NEGOTIIS. 
 
 Celeritas nimia et affectata, negotia, ut plurimum, perdit. 
 Similis est illi rei, quam medici praedigestionem, sive prae¬ 
 properam digestionem, vocant: quae corpus implere solet 
 humoribus crudis, et secretis seminibus morborum. Itaquae 
 negotiorum expeditionem ne metiaris, per tempora consu¬ 
 lendi, sed per negotii ipsius progressum. Et quemad¬ 
 modum in cursu, minime in passus granditate, aut pedum 
 elevatione altiore, celeritas consistit, sed in motu eorundem 
 humiliore, et aequabili; ita in negotiis, mordicus rei 
 inhaerere, neque partem negotii nimiam pro una vice avide 
 amplecti, celeritatem in conficiendo procurat. Curae est 
 nonnullis illud tantum, ut brevi tempore multum confe¬ 
 cisse videantur; aut ut periodos aliquas negotiorum falsas 
 confingant, quo acres in negotiis existimentur: verum aliud 
 est, tempori parcere, negotium contrahendo, aliud interci¬ 
 dendo: negotia autem in eum modum tractata; crebris 
 nimirum congressibus; plerunque sursum deorsum feruntur, 
 magna inconstanita. Novimus virum prudentem, cui 
 semper in ore erat, cum festinationem nimiam videret; 
 u Manete paulisper, ut expediamus celerius.” 
 
 Ex altera parte, vera celeritas, in expediendis negotiis, 
 res est pretiosa. Tempus siquidem negotiorum, sicuti 
 pecunia mercium, est mensura: emitur igitur negotium 
 magno, ubi nimia est protractio. Spartani, et Hispani, 
 tarditatis notati sunt: “ Mi venga la muerte de Spagna:” 
 Veniet mors mea ab Hispania: tum, scio, cunctanter 
 veniet. 
 
 Aurem illis praebe facilem, quibus primae in informatione 
 negotii, partes demandatae sunt: et potius viam illis 
 monstres ab initio, quam postea in orationis filo crebrius 
 interrumpas. Qui enim in ordine, quem sibi praestituit; 
 perturbatur, subsultabit, et prolixior fiet, dum memoriam 
 suam recolliget; quam alias futurus fuisset, si sua methodo 
 
 vol. xv. x 
 
306 
 
 DE EXPEDIENDIS NEGOTIIS. 
 
 perrexisset. Sed interdum videre est, moderatorem mo¬ 
 lestum esse magis, quam oratorem. 
 
 Repetitiones plerunque cum temporis jactura fiunt : 
 attamen statum quaestionis ssepe repetere, lucrum est 
 temporis vel maximum. Etenim complures sermones, 
 prorsus abs re, in ipso partu, abigit. Orationes prolixae et 
 curiosae, aeque expeditioni negotiorum conveniunt, ac toga 
 praelonga, terram verrens, cursui. Praefatiunculae, transi¬ 
 tiones bellae, et excusationes, atque alia verba, quae ad 
 personam loquentis referuntur, tempus haud parum de¬ 
 vastant ; et licet a modestia emanare videantur, sunt tamen 
 revera gloriolae captatrices. Sed cave, ne in rem ipsam, 
 ab initio, descendas, cum in hominum voluntatibus, im¬ 
 pedimentum aliquod reperiatur, aut obstructio: etenim 
 animorum prae-occupatio sermonum semper postulat prae¬ 
 fationes : instar fomentationis ante unguentum, quo ungu¬ 
 entum mollius subintret. 
 
 Ante omnia, ordo, et distributio, et partium apta extractio, 
 celeritatis tanquam vita est: ita tamen ut distributio non 
 sit nimium subtilis. Nam qui partitione non utetur, in 
 negotia nunquam commode ingredietur; qui autem nimia 
 utetur, vix emerget. Tempora prudenter deligere, tempus 
 plurimum lucratur; atque intempestiva propositio, nil 
 aliud, quam aerem verberare, et tempore abuti. Tres sunt 
 negotiorum partes: praeparatio; cousultatio sive exami¬ 
 natio ; et perfectio: harum, (si expeditioni consulere in 
 animo est,) media, sit opus multorum; prima autem, et 
 ultima, paucorum procedendi in negotiis, initium sumere, 
 ab iis quae scripto comprehensa sunt, plerunque expedi¬ 
 tionem promovet: licet enim contigerit, ea in totum rejici, 
 nihilominus negativa illa, plus valebit ad consilia educenda, 
 quam indefinita; quemadmodum cinis magis generativus, 
 quam pulvis. 
 
 XXVI. DE PRUDENTIA APPARENTE. 
 
 Recepta est opinio, Gallos prudentiores esse quam viden¬ 
 tur, Hispanos autem prudentiores videri quam sunt. Sed 
 utcunque se res habeat inter gentes, certum est hoc usu 
 venire inter personas singulares. Sicut enim loquitur 
 apostolus de pietate; “ Speciem pietatis habentes, sed 
 virtutem ejus negantes;” ita certe inveniuntur nonnulli, 
 qui nugantur solenniter, cum prudentes minime sint; 
 “ Magno conatu nugas.” Res est profecto prudentibus 
 
DE PRUDENTIA APPARENTE. 
 
 307 
 
 ridicula, et satyra digna, affectatores istos videre ; in quot 
 formas se vertant, et quali utantur arte quasi prospectiva, 
 qua superficies appareat corpus, quod profunditatem, aut 
 dimensionem solidi habeat. Alii tam secreti sunt, et in se 
 declarando parci,' ut merces suas, nisi sub obscura luce, 
 ostendere nolint; et videri volunt, plus significare, quam 
 loqui : cumque sibi ipsis conscii sint, se de iis rebus loqui, 
 quas non bene norunt; cupiunt nihilominus videri, se illa 
 nosse, quae non possunt tuto loqui. Alii vultu et gestu 
 verbis suffragantur, et veluti per signa sapiunt: ut Cicero 
 ait de Pisone; “ Respondes, altero ad frontem sublato, 
 altero ad mentum depresso supercilio; crudelitatem tibi 
 non placere.” Alii se valere putant, si grande quiddam 
 loquantur, idque stilo peremptorio : itaque nihil morantur, 
 et pro admissis accipiunt, quae probare non possunt. Sunt, 
 qui, quicquid sub captum eorum non cadit, spernere, aut 
 parvi pendere prae se ferunt, tanquam impertinens et 
 curiosum ; sicque inscitiam suam pro judicio limato obten¬ 
 dunt. Alii distinctionem aliquam semper in promptu 
 habent; et plerunque hominum ingenia subtilitate per¬ 
 stringendo, rem praetervehuntur. De quo genere loquitur 
 Aulus Gellius; “ Hominem delirum, qui verborum mi¬ 
 nutiis, rerum frangit pondera.” Ad quod exemplum, 
 Plato in Protagora, per ironiam, introducit Prodicum ; 
 sermonem integrum contexentem ex distinctionibus, a prin¬ 
 cipio usque ad finem. Generaliter, istiusmodi homines, 
 in consultationibus, negativae libenter se applicant; et 
 existimationem quandam aucupantur, ex scrupulis et 
 difficultatibus proponendis et praedicendis; etenim cum id 
 quod proponitur, penitus rejicitur, nil ultra restat agendum; 
 sin probatur, nova indiget opera : quod prudentiae genus 
 spurium negotia prorsus perdit. Ut verbo dicamus; nec 
 mercator aliquis obaeratus, nec decoctor rei familiaris oc¬ 
 cultus, tot artificiis se muniet, ad divitias simulandas ; quot 
 homines isti, vera prudentia destituti, utuntur, ad prudentiae 
 suae opinionem tuendam. Certe, homines hac prudentia 
 praediti, opinionem vulgi facile aucupari possunt; sed ad 
 negotia gravia tractanda, nemo talium delectum faciat: 
 etenim, ad negotia promovenda, satius proculdubio fuerit, 
 virum eligere paulo absurdiorem, quam hujusmodi forma- 
 listam fastidiosum. 
 
308 
 
 XXVII. DE AMICITIA. 
 
 Res sane difficilis esset, etiam illi qui dixerit, plus veri ac 
 falsi, idque compendio miscuisse, quam in illo scito; 
 “ quicunque solitudine delectatur, aut fera, aut Deus est.” 
 Negari enim non potest, quod insitum et latens odium, seu 
 fastidium societatis, si in aliquo deprehendatur, sapiat 
 nescio quid belluinum: illud tamen e converso, quod 
 aliquam divinae naturae speciem prae se ferat, falsissimum 
 est; nisi hujusmodi vida solitaria minime ab amore ipsius 
 solitudinis proveniat, sed a studio secedendi, ut altioribus 
 contemplationibus quis vacet: id quod in nonnullis ethni¬ 
 corum reperitur, sed affectatum et fictum ; ut in Epimenide 
 Cretense, Numa Romano, Empedocle Siculo, et Apollonio 
 Tyanaeo; sincerum tamen et verum in plurimis eremitarum 
 antiquorum, et in sanctis patribus ecclesiae. Interea vero 
 parum perspiciunt homines, quid hoc sit quod solitudo 
 nomitatur, et quibus finibus circumscribitur: turba enim 
 non est societas dicenda; et facies hominum nihilo plus 
 sunt quam in porticibus picturae; colloquia vero absque 
 dilectione cymbalo non praestant tinnienti. Hoc innuit id, 
 quod Latino jactatum proverbio; “ Magna civitas, magna 
 solitudo.” In magnis enim urbibus amici et necessarii 
 remotius disperguntur,adeo ut minus plerunque familiariter, 
 et in consortio, vivatur, quam in viciniis angustioribus. 
 Quin et ulterius progredi licet, atque verissime asserere, 
 meram et miseram esse solitudinem, ubi desunt amici veri: 
 sine quibus mundus nihil aliud quam eremus est. Quo 
 etiam sensu si solitudinem accipias ; quicunque natura et 
 genio suo ab amicitiis abhorret, hujusmodo affectum, a 
 bruto potius, quam ab homine mutuatur. 
 
 Maximus amicitae fructus est levamen et evaporatio 
 anxietatis et tumorum cordis, quos animae perturbationes, 
 cujuscunque generis, imprimere solent. Novimus morbos 
 illos in corpore esse maxime periculosos, qui ex obstruc¬ 
 tionibus et suffocationibus nascuntur: neque multo secus 
 se res habet in aegritudinibus animae. Sarsam adhibere 
 pdSsis ad jecoris, chalybem praeparatum ad lienis, flores 
 sulphuris ad pulmonum, castoreum ad cerebri oppilationes 
 deobstruendas : nulla autem invenitur medicina apertiva 
 ad obstructiones cordis, praeter amicum fidelem ; cui im¬ 
 pertire possis, dolores, gaudia, metus, spes, suspiciones, 
 curas, consilia, et quicquid denique cor opprimat, tanquam 
 sub sigillo confessionis civilis. 
 
 9 
 
DE AMICITIA. 
 
 309 
 
 Res est profecto mirabilis, si quis secum reputet, quam 
 magni principes summi et monarchae, istum amicitiae fruc¬ 
 tum, (de quo loquimur,) aestiment: tanti sane, ut eundem, 
 et incolumitatis suae, et amplitudinis, periculo, interdum 
 coemant. Principes enim, propter distantiam et sublimi¬ 
 tatem fortunarum suarum, a fortunis servorum et subdi¬ 
 torum suorum, fructum hunc decerpere nequeunt: nisi 
 forte, (quo eum melius colligant,) aliquos evehant et 
 promoveant, qui sint sibi tanquam socii et aequales: id 
 quod saepenumero non sine praejudicio fit. Linguae mo¬ 
 dernae, istiusmodi personas, nomine gratiosorum, vel 
 amicorum regis, insigniunt; ac si res esset favoris et con¬ 
 versationis: at vocabulum Romanum, ejus rei, rectius 
 exprimit, verum usum, atque causam; illos nominans, 
 “ Participes curarum ;” hoc enim illud est, quod verum 
 ligamen praestat. Atque hoc fecisse manifesto videmus, 
 non tantum principes delicatos, et imbecillis animi; sed 
 etiam prudentissimos, et maxime politicos, ex iis qui regna¬ 
 runt: qui saepe sibi adjunxerunt aliquos ex servis suis; 
 quos et ipsi amicos suos vocarunt; et aliis eodem illos 
 nomine insignire permiserunt: non alio utentes vocabulo, 
 quam quod inter homines privatae fortunae receptum est. 
 
 L. Sylla, postquam Romanum imperium occupasset, 
 Pompeium, (postea cognominatum Magnum,) ad eam 
 potentiam evexit, ut Pompeius superiorem jam Sylla factum 
 se venditaret. Cum enim amicum quendam suum consulem 
 fecisset, contra ambitum Syllae; atque Sylla in malam 
 partem hoc accepisset, et verba indignationis nonnulla 
 protulisset, Pompeius id minime tulit, sed fere disertis 
 verbis, eum quiescere jussit; addendo; “ Plures adorare 
 solem orientem, quam occidentem.” Apud Julium Caesarem, 
 Decimus Brutus, tanta gratia valuit, ut eum Caesar 
 Octavio, suo nepoti, haeredem substitueri. Atque hic ille 
 fuit, qui Caesarem ad mortem suam pertraxit. Cum enim 
 Caesar senatum dimittere in animo habuisset, propter mala 
 quaedam praesagia, (praecipue, somnium quoddam uxoris 
 suae Calpurniae,) Brutus eum mollitur e cathedra, arrepto 
 brachio ejus, levans, dixit; “ Sperare se, eum senatum non 
 tam parvi habiturum, ut dimittere illum vellet, donec uxor 
 somnium melius somniasset.” Et videtur sane tanto 
 favore apud Caesarem polluisse, ut Antonius in epistola 
 quadam, quae a Cicerone, in una ex Phillippicis, ver¬ 
 batim recitatur, eum veneficum appellaret; ac si Caesa¬ 
 rem incantasset. Augustus Agrippam, ignobilem licet 
 natalibus, ad tantam celsitudinem promovit, ut quando cum 
 
310 
 
 DE AMICIATA. 
 
 Maecenate deliberaret de nuptiis filiae suae Juliae ; Mecaenas 
 eum libere monuisset; “ Agrippam, aut in generum assu¬ 
 mendum, aut interficiendum; nihil esse tertium; quando¬ 
 quidem eum ad tantum fastigium perduxisset.” Tiberius 
 Caesar Sejanum tantis honoribus auxit, ut ii duo haberentur 
 tanquam par amicorum : certe Tiberius, in epistola quadam 
 ad eum, ita scribit; “ Haec pro amicitia nostra non occul¬ 
 tavi.” Atque universus senatus, aram Amicitiae tanquam 
 deae, dedicavit: propter arctam inter eos amicitiam. Similis, 
 aut etiam illa majoris, amicitiae exemplum cernitur, inter 
 Septimium Severum, et Plantainum: etenim, filium suum 
 natu majorem, filiam Plautiani, in uxorem ducere, coegit: 
 ac Plantianum saepe, etiam cum contumelia filii sui, hono¬ 
 ravit. Quin et scripsit ad senatum hisce verbis: “ Ita 
 diligo virum, ut cupiam eum mihi superstitem fore.” Quod 
 si hi principes, Trajano alicui aut Marco Aurelio, similes 
 fuissent, immensae naturae eorum bonitati hoc attribui 
 posset: cum vero viri tam prudentes extiterint, tantoque 
 robore et severitate animi praediti, tamque impensi ama¬ 
 tores sui; liquido probatur, eos felicitatem suam, (licet vix 
 major mortalibus ullis obtigisset) veluti mutilam duxisse, 
 nisi per hasce amicitias, facta fuisset integra, et perfecta. 
 Atque, quod majus est, affuerunt his principibus uxores. 
 Filii nepotes ; neque tamen haec omnia, amicitiae solatia, 
 supplere valuerunt. 
 
 Minime oblivioni mandandum, quod Commineus notatum 
 reliquit de domino suo priore, duce Carolo, cognominato 
 Strenuo; eum secreta sua cum nemine communicare 
 voluisse: minime omnium ea, quae eum prae caeteris ange¬ 
 bant. Et ulterius ait; eam animi obtectionem, posterioribus 
 vitae annis, intellectum ipsius nonnihil debilitasse, et 
 vitiasse. Potuisset certe Commineus, si voluisset, simile 
 judicium facere, de domino suo posteriore, Ludovico un¬ 
 decimo ; cui occultatio consiliorum pro tormento fuit. Tes¬ 
 sera Pythagorae, obscura sed optima; u Cor ne edito.” 
 Certe, si quis durum huic rei nomen imponeret, qui amicis 
 destiuuntur, quibus cogitationes suas, et anxietatis libere 
 impertiant, sunt cordium suorum anthropophagi. At illud 
 plane ad miraculum proxime accedit, (quocum claudam 
 hunc, de primo amicitiae fructu, sermonem ;) nimirum; 
 istam cum amicis communicationem, contrarios duos ef¬ 
 fectus producere; gaudia enim conduplicat, moerores 
 dimidiat. Nemo siquidem laeta sua amico impertit, quin 
 laetetur amplius: nemo autem tristibus amicum commu¬ 
 nicat, quin contristetur minus. Adeo ut revera, eadem 
 
I)E AMICITIA. 
 
 311 
 
 virtute polleat, super animum hominis ; quam alchymistae 
 lapidi suo tribuere solent, super corpus humanum; hoc 
 est; quod contraria operetur, sed semper in beneficium 
 naturae. Attamen absque auxilio notionum chymicarum, 
 extat hujus rei exemplum insigne, in cursu naturae ordi¬ 
 nario. Nam in rebus naturalibus, unio alit et confortat 
 actiones quasque naturales; impressiones omnes violentas 
 hebetat et retundit: idemque prorsus fit in animis. 
 
 Secundus amicitiae fructus, salubris est intellectui, sicuti 
 primus affectibus. Amicitia enim serenitatem inducit in 
 affectibus, a tempestatibus et procellis; verum in intellectu 
 etiam noctem abigit, et lumen infundit, confusione cogita¬ 
 tionum dissipata. Neque hoc intelligendum est tantum, 
 de consilio fideli, quod ab amicis dari solet; sed antequam 
 de illo d icamus; certum est; quicunque animum cogita¬ 
 tionibus multis gravatum habet, ingenium ejus et intellec¬ 
 tum clarescere veluti in diem, communicatione consiliorum, 
 et discursu cum alio. Etenim cogitationes suas facilius 
 agitat, et in omnes partes versat; easdem ordinatius 
 disponit; illas tanquam in faciem intuetur, postquam 
 conversae fuerint in verba; denique seipso prudentior 
 evadit: idque assequitur horulae magis unius sermone, 
 quam diei integrae meditationibus. Recte dictum est a 
 Themistocle, ad regem Persarum; “ Sermones tapetibus 
 similes esse, cum explicentur, per quod imagines distincte 
 conspiciuntur; ubi cogitationes, instar sarcinarum quarun- 
 dam, complicantur et involvuntur.” Neque etiam restrin¬ 
 gitur secundus iste fructus amicitiae, (qui consistit in 
 obstructionibus intellectus aperiendis,) ad eos solum 
 amicos, qui consilio pollent; (hi proculdubio optimi sunt;) 
 sed et hoc seposito, discit profecto quispiam a seipso; et 
 proprias cogitationes in luminis oras educit; ingeniumque 
 suum tanquam cotem versus acuit, quae ipsa non fecat. 
 Ut verbo dicamus ; praestat statuae cuidam, vel imagini, se 
 impertire, quam cogitationes suas silentio suffocare. 
 
 Adde jam, (ut fiat sermo, de hoc secundo amicitiae 
 fructu, magis perfectus,) illud modo dictum; quod promp¬ 
 tius occurrit, et in vulgarem observationem cadit; fidele 
 intelligo ab amico consilium. Bene asserit Heraclitus, in 
 uno aenigmatum suorum; “ Lumen siccum optimum:” 
 atqui certissimum est; lumen quod ab alio proficiscitur, 
 per modum consilii, illo siccius esse et purius, quod a 
 proprio emanat judicio, et intellectu; siquidem quod affec¬ 
 tibus semper maceratur et tingitur. Adeo ut, non minus 
 intersit, inter consilium amici, et consilium cujuslibet pro- 
 
312 
 
 DE AMICITIA. 
 
 prium, quam inter consilia amici, et adulatoris. Neque 
 enim adulator magis infestus, quam quilibet sibi: neque 
 rursus remedium praestantius, contra adulationem sui 
 ipsius, reperitur, quam libertas amici. Consilium duorum 
 generum est. Alterum de moribus; alterum de negotiis. 
 Quantum ad prius. Optimum, ad animi sanitatem tuendam, 
 medicamentum, est admonitio amici fidelis. Seipsum ad 
 rationes stricte reddendas compellere, medicina est inter¬ 
 dum, nimis penetrans, et corrosiva. Lectio librorum 
 moralium, res est paulo hebetior. Observatio propriorum 
 defectuum in aliis, tanquam in speculo, aliquando, ut fit 
 etiam in speculis, minus respondet. Verum (ut diximus) 
 optima medicina, (optima ad recipiendum, optima ad 
 operandum ;) est admonitio amici. Mirum profecto est 
 videre, quot errores enormes, et plane absurdos, committant 
 aliqui (praesertim ex grandioribus,) quia non adsit iis 
 amicus, qui monere possit: in damnum haud parvum, et 
 existimationis, et fortunae suae. Sunt enim, (ut ait apos¬ 
 tolus Jacobus,) “ tanquam homines, qui intuentur in 
 speculum, et statim obliviscuntur imaginis suae.” Quantum 
 ad negotia. Vetus est; “ Melius videre oculos, quam 
 oculum;” licet nonnulli hoc cavillentur: etiam recte 
 dicitur; “ Spectatorem saepe plus videre, quam lusorem 
 quin et certius disploditur sclopetum majus, palo innixum, 
 quam super brachium; etsi quidam tam altum sapiant, ut 
 putent in sese esse omnia. Verum, quicquid dici possit in 
 contrarium, certum est, consilium negotia dirigere, et 
 stabilire. Quod si quis secum cogitet, consilium se quidem 
 capturum, sed per partes ; in aliis hunc, in aliis illum, con¬ 
 sulendo ; bene habet; (hoc est; melius illi fuerit, quam 
 consilio omnino non uti;) verum, in duo pericula impingit: 
 unum, quod vix fidele consilium reperturus sit; raro enim, 
 nisi a fideli, et intimo amico consilium datur, quod non ad 
 dantis fines inflexum et detortum sit. Alterum, quod consilia 
 illa, a diversis manantia, (licet cum fide, et bona inten¬ 
 tione prsestita,) damnosa saepenumero erunt et nociva; ac 
 partim ex incommodis, partim ex remediis,commixta; veluti, 
 si medicum advoces, qui in curatione morbi illius peritus 
 habetur, sed corporis tui constitutionis penitus ignarus: 
 quare poterit, fortasse, valetudinem, ad tempus, promovere; 
 sed cum periculo, ne, in summa, sanitati praejudicet: 
 atque hoc pacto morbum extinguet, et non ita multo post, 
 hominem. Verum amicus, cui status amici sui perfecte 
 cognitus est, cavebit, ne in praesens juvando, in malum 
 futurum impingat. Itaque consiliis istis dispersis, (ut jam 
 
DE AMICITIA. 313 
 
 dictum,) nolim acquiescas: distrahent enim potius, et 
 seducent, quam dirigent et stabilient. 
 
 Post nobiles hosce duos amicitiae fructus; (pacem dico 
 in affectibus, et fulcimentum judicii;) sequitur ultimus; qui 
 similis est mala granato; plenus granis compluribus: 
 intelligo autem auxilium et participationem, in actionibus 
 et occasionibus vitae. Hic autem, expeditissima via reprae¬ 
 sentandi ad vivum, usum multiplicem amicitiae, fuerit, 
 circumspiciendo et videndo, quam multa sint, quae per se 
 quispiam exequi commode non poterit: atque mde appa¬ 
 rebit, non per hyperbolen, sed sobrie dictum esse ab 
 antiquis; “ Amicum esse alterum se:” quandoquidem, si 
 quis vere rem reputet, amici officia, proprias cujusque vires 
 superent. Homines mortales sunt; quin et in medio 
 operum aliquorum, quae maxime affectant, saepe moriuntur : 
 veluti in collocatione filii in matrimonium ; consummatione 
 conatuum et desideriorum suorum; et similibus. Jam si 
 quis amicum habeat fidelem, securitatem praestat, de iisdem 
 rebus, amici cura et opera, post mortem perficiendis: adeo 
 ut fatum immaturum vix obsit; atqne habeat quis, (ut 
 loquamur more tribulum aut firmariorum,) in desideriis 
 suis, terminum, non unius, sed duarum vitarum. Homo 
 corpore circumscribitur, et corpus loco ; verum ubi amicitia 
 praesto est, vitae munia omnia concessa sunt, et sibi, et 
 deputato suo. Quot numero res sunt, quas per se quispiam, 
 cum dignitate aut decoro, peragere non possit? Merita sua 
 non potest cum verecundia recensere; multo minus extol¬ 
 lere : non sustinet quis, ut se submittat, ad supplicandum, 
 aut etiam emendicandum : infinita sunt talia. Verum 
 haec, et hujusmodi, in amici ore, sat decora sunt; ad quae 
 erubescimus in persona propria. Rursus, persona cujusque, 
 multa habet conjuncta, quae exuere non potest: filium 
 alloqui quis non poterit, nisi ut pater; uxorem, nisi ut 
 maritus; inimicum, nisi salva dignitate; ubi amico con¬ 
 ceditur loqui, prout res postulat; neque ad respectus 
 personae alligatur. Verum haec enumerare infinitum 
 fuerit. Ipse regulam dedi, ubi quis propriam personam, 
 in fabula, sustinere non poterit: amicus si desit, satius est 
 ei scenam derelinquere. 
 
314 
 
 XXVIII. DE SUMPTIBUS. 
 
 Opes destinantur sumptibus: sumptus autem honori, et 
 actionibus honestis. Sumptus itaque largiores, occasionis 
 et rei dignitate commensurandi sunt: etenim spontanea 
 paupertas debetur quandoque patriae, non solum regno 
 coelorum. Sumptus autem consueti cujusque censu defi¬ 
 niendi sunt; eoque tenore temperandi, ut intra reditus 
 sint; nec servorum fraudi, aut incuriae obnoxii; atque 
 insuper in eum modum dispositi et ordinati, ut rationes 
 impensarum exhibitae, aestimatione sint minores. Certe, 
 qui diminutionem fortunarum suarum pati nolit, necesse 
 habet impensas suas ordinarias ita instituere, ut dimidia 
 tantum pars redituum insumatur, altera reponatur: qui 
 vero rem augere cupit, tertiam partem solam impensis 
 assignet. Haud sordidum est summis etiam viris, si 
 rationes suas diligenter inspiciant. Hoc omittunt com¬ 
 plures, non tam socordia, quam aversatione quadam, ne se 
 contristent, si res nimio plus accisas deprehenderint. 
 Vulnera autem, nisi explorentur, sanari nequeunt. Qui 
 oeconomica sua commode tractare non possunt, iis relin¬ 
 quitur, ut quos adhibent ministros, et caute eligant, et 
 subinde mutent: novi enim minus audent, minusque astuti 
 sunt. Cui raro rationes suas inspicere datur, eum, quae 
 computationi subjacent, in certos reditus atque etiam 
 sumptus, vertere convenit. Qui impendiosior est in uno 
 sumptus genere, eum sobrie parcum, et frugi oportet esse in 
 alio: exempli gratia; si victu abundantior, vestium elegantia 
 sit moderatior; si in aula sua copiosior, in equili contractior 
 sit; et sic de similibus. Qui enim in singulis impensarum 
 generibus est profusior, decoctionem fortunarum aegre 
 vitabit. In perplexa et obaerata re familiari liberanda, 
 perinde sibi quis obesse poterit nimia festinatione, ac dila¬ 
 tione nimia: praeproprae enim venditiones, jacturam ex 
 usuris, saepe exaequant. Porro autem, qui simul et semel 
 sortem asserit, de relapsu periclitatur : cum enim praeter¬ 
 vectum tantas angustias se sentiat, ad ingenium redibit: 
 qui autem se per gradus extricaverit, habitum frugalitatis 
 inducit; eademque opera tam animo, quam fortunis, 
 medetur. Sane qui res collapsas restituere in votis habet, 
 vel minima quaeque non spernat: atque plerunque minus 
 sordidum est, sumptus quamvis minutos praecidere, quam 
 
DE SUMPTIBUS. 
 
 315 
 
 minutis lucris se submittere. Caute admodum inchoandi 
 sunt sumptus, qui semel inchoati permansuri sint. Sed in 
 sumptibus, qui non facile redeunt, splendidiorem et magni¬ 
 ficentiorum esse licebet. 
 
 XXIX. DE PROFERENDIS FINIBUS IMPERII. 
 
 D ictum Themistoclis, sibi ipsi applicatum, incivile certe 
 fuit, et inflatum; sin de aliis, atque in genere, prolatum 
 fuisset, prudentem sane observationem, et pergravem 
 censuram complecti videtur. Rogatus in convivio, ut 
 cytharam pulsaret, respondit; “ Fidibus se nescire; cae- 
 terum posse oppidum parvum in magnam civitatem eve¬ 
 here.” Ista certe verba, ad sensum politicum translata, 
 facultates duas, multum inter se discrepantes, in iis qui 
 rerum gubernacula tractant, optime describunt, et distin¬ 
 guunt. Etenim, si regnum consiliarios, senatores, aliosque 
 ad negotia publica admotos, qui usquam fuerunt, attente 
 intueamur; reperientur profecto (licet rarissime,) nonnulli, 
 qui regnum aut civitatem, e parvis ampla efficere possint, 
 fidicines tamen sint valde imperiti: econtra autem, alii 
 quamplurimi, in cytliara, aut lyra, (hoc est aulicis tricis,) 
 miri artifices, qui, tantum abest, ut rempublicam amplifi¬ 
 care possint, ut potius a natura comparati videantur, ad 
 statum reipublicse beatum et florentum, labefactandum, et 
 evertendum. Sane, artes illae degeneres, et praestigiae, 
 quibus saepenumero consiliarii, atque rerum potentes, et 
 gratiam apud principes suos, et famam in vulgus, reportant, 
 haud aliud nomen merentur, quam peritiae cujusdam 
 fidiculariae ; utpote, cum sint res, magis gratae in praesens, 
 et artificibus ipsis ornamento, quam ad rerumpublicarum, 
 quarum sunt ministri, opes et amplitudinem, utiles, aut 
 accommodae. Occurrent proculdubio et alii consiliarii, 
 atque rei publicae gubernatores, minime spernendi, qui sint 
 negotiis pares, possintque res commode administrare, 
 easque a manifestis praecipitiis, et incommodis conservare ; 
 a virtute tamen illa rerumpublicarum erectrice et amplifi- 
 catrice, longo intervallo absunt. 
 
 Verum qualescunque demum fuerint operarii, conjicia¬ 
 mus oculos in opus ipsum; qualis nimirum censeri debeat 
 vera regnorum et rerumpublicarum magnitudo, et quibus 
 artibus obtineri possit: dignum profecto argumentum, 
 quod principes perpetuo in manibus habeant, et diligenter 
 
316 
 
 DE PROFERENDIS FINIBUS IMPERII, 
 
 meditentur ; quo nec vires suas in majus aestimantes, 
 incoeptis, se vanis et nimis arduis impii cent ; nec rursus 
 easdem plus sequo despicientes, ad consilia pusillanima et 
 meticulosa, se demittant. 
 
 Magnitudo imperiorum, quoad molem et territorium, 
 mensurae subjicitur; quoad reditus, calculis. Numerus 
 civium, et capita, censu; urbium et oppidorum amplitudo, 
 tabulis excipi possint. Attamen non reperitur inter civilia, 
 res errori magis obnoxia, quam verum et intrinsecum 
 excipere valorem, circa vires et copias imperii alicujus. 
 Assimilatur regnum coelorum non glandi, aut nuci alicui 
 grandiori, sed grano sinapis, quod inter grana est mini¬ 
 mum ; quod tamen habeat interim, intra se, proprietatem 
 quandam, et spiritum innatum, quo se et citius attollat, et 
 latius diffundat: eodem modo, invenire est regna et status,, 
 ambitu quidem et regionum tractu, valde ampla; quae 
 tamen ad fines ulterius proferendos, aut latius imperandum, 
 sunt minus apta; alia contra, dimensione satis exigua, quae 
 tamen bases, in quibus maximae monarchiae inaedificentur 
 esse possint. 
 
 Urbes munitae, plena armamentaria, equorum propagines 
 generosae, currus armati, elephanti, machinae atque tor¬ 
 menta bellica omnigena, et similia; sunt certe ista universa 
 nihil aliud, quam ovis induta pelle leonina ; nisi gens ipsa, 
 stirpe sua, et ingenio, sit fortis, et militaris. Imo, nec 
 numerus ipse copiarum multum juvat, ubi milites imbelles 
 sunt, et ignavi. Recte enim Virgilius; u Lupus numerum 
 pecorum non curat.” Exercitus Persarum, in campis 
 Arbelae, oculis Macedonum, tanquam vastum hominum 
 pelagus, subjiciebatur; adeo ut duces Alexandri, nonnihil 
 ipso spectaculo perculsi, regem interpellarent, atque ut 
 noctu praelium committeret, ei auctores erant: quibus ille; 
 “ Nolo (inquit) suffurari victoriam.” Ea autem etiam 
 opinione fuit facilior, Tigranes Armenius, castrametatus 
 in quodam colle, cum exercitu quadringentorum millium, 
 cum spectaret aciem Romanorum, quae quatuordecim millia 
 non excessit, contra se tendentem, in scommate illo suo sibi 
 complacuit; u Ecce, (inquit,) hominum, pro legatione, 
 nimio plus quam oportet, pro pugna, longe minus.” Eosdem 
 tamen, priusquam occubuisset sol, satis multos, ad illum 
 infinita strage profligandum, expertus est. Innumera sunt 
 exempla, quam sit multitudinis cum fortitudine, congressus 
 impar. Primo igitur, pro re certissima et exploratissima 
 decernatur, et statuatur; quod caput omnium, quae ad 
 magnitudinem regni aut status spectent, sit, ut populus 
 
DE PROFERENDIS FINIBUS IMPERII. 
 
 317 
 
 ipse sit stirpe et ingenio bellicosus. Atque illud magis 
 tritum, quam verum, quod nervi belli sint pecuniae ; si 
 desint nervi lacertorum in gente molli et eflceminata. 
 Recte enim Craeso ostentanti aurum respondit Solon; 
 “ At si quis, (o rex) venerit, qui melius quam tu ferrum 
 gestet, illi profecto totum hoc cedet aurum.” Quare, 
 quicunque is tandem sit princeps aut status, cujus subditi 
 nativi et indigenae, non sint animosi et militares, potentiam 
 suam admodum sobrie aestimet: atque econtra, principes, 
 qui dominantur in gentes animosas et martias, norint illi 
 satis vires suas, si sibi alias non desint. Quod attinet ad 
 copias mercenarias, (quod solet adhiberi remedium, cum 
 copiae nativae desint,) plena sunt omnia exemplis ; 'quibus 
 liquido patet, quod quicunque status illis innitetur, poterit 
 fortasse pennas ad tempus breve, nido majores extendere, 
 sed defluent illae paulo post. 
 
 Benedictio Judae, et Issacharis, in unum nunquam con¬ 
 venient ; nimirum, ut eadem tribus aut gens, sit simul, et 
 “ leonis catulus, et asinus procumbens inter sarcinas.” 
 Neque unquam fiet, ut populus tributis oppressus, fortis 
 existat, et bellicosus. Verum est, collationes publico 
 consensu factas, minus animos subditorum dejicere, et de¬ 
 primere, quam quae ex imperio mero indicuntur. Id quod 
 liquido videre est, in tributis Germaniae inferioris, quas 
 Excisas vocant; atque, aliqua ex parte, in iis, quae Subsidia 
 nominantur apud Anglos. Etenim notandum est, sermonem 
 jam institui, de animis hominum, non de opibus. Tributa 
 autem, quae ex consensu conferuntur, et quae ex imperio 
 imponuntur, etsi eadem res sint, quoad opes exhauriendas, 
 varie tamen omnino animos subditorum afficiunt. Statuatur 
 igitur et hoc, populum tributis gravatum, idoneum ad im¬ 
 perandum, non esse. 
 
 Aspirantibus ad magnitudinem regnis et statibus, prorsus 
 cavendum, ne nobiles et patricii, atque (quos vocamus) 
 generosi, majorem in modum multiplicentur. Hoc enim 
 eo rem deducit, ut plebs regni sit humilis et abjecta; et 
 nihil aliud fere quam nobilium mancipia et operarii. Simile 
 quiddam fieri videmus in silvis caeduis; in quibus, si major, 
 quam par est, caudicum, sive arborum majorum relinquatur 
 numerus, non renascetur silva sincera et pura; sed major 
 pars in vepres et dumos degenerabit: eodem modo, in 
 nationibus, ubi numerosior justo est nobilitas, erit plebs 
 vilis et ignava; atque eo demum res redibit, ut nec cente¬ 
 simum quodque caput, sit, ad galeam portandam, idoneum : 
 praesertim si peditatum spectes; qui exercitus plerunque 
 
 
318 
 
 DE PROFERENDIS FINIBUS IMPERII. 
 
 est robur praecipuum; unde succedet magna populatio, 
 vires exiguae. Nusquam gentium, hoc quod dico, luculen¬ 
 tius comprobatum est, quam exemplis Angliae et Galliae; 
 quarum Auglia, quamvis territorio, et numero incolarum, 
 longe inferior, potiores tamen partes fere semper in bellis 
 obtinuit; hanc ipsam ob causam, quod apud Anglos 
 coloni, et inferioris ordinis homines, militiae habiles sint, 
 rustici Galliae non item. Qua in re, mirabili quadam et 
 profunda prudentia excogitatum est, ab Henrico septimo 
 Angliae rege (id quod in Vitae ejus historia fusius 
 tractavimus,) ut praedia minora, atque domus agricolationis, 
 instituerentur, quae habeant certum, eumque mediocrem 
 agri modum annexum, qui distrahi non possit: eo fine, ut 
 ad victum liberaliorem sufficiat; utque agricultura ab iis 
 exerceretur, qui domini fuerint fundi, aut saltem usufruc¬ 
 tuarii, non conductitii, aut mercenarii. Nam ita demum 
 characterem illum, quo antiquam Italiam insignivit virgi- 
 lius, merebitur regio aliqua; 
 
 — Terra potens armis, atque ubere glebae. 
 
 Neque praetereunda est illa pars populi, (quae Angliae 
 fere est peculiaris, nec alibi (quod scio) in usu, nisi forte 
 apud polonos,) famuli scilicet nobilium : hujus enim generis 
 etiam inferiores, quoad peditatum, agricolis ipsis minime 
 cedunt. Quare certissimum est, quod magnificentia, et 
 splendor ille hospitalis, atque, famulitia, et veluti satellitia 
 ampla, quae in more sunt apud nobiles, et generosos, in 
 anglia, ad potentiam militarem apprime conducant; ubi 
 contra, nobilium obscura, et magis privata, et in se reducta 
 vitae ratio, copias militares minuit. 
 
 Danda est omnino opera, ut arbor ista monarchiae, qualis 
 fuit Nebuchadnezzaris, truncum habeat satis amplum, et 
 robustum, ad ramos suos et frondes sustentandos: hoc est, 
 ut numerus indigenarum, ad subditos extraneos cohibendos, 
 satis superque sufficiat. Illi igitur status, ad imperii mag- 
 titudinem bene comparati sunt, qui jus civitatis facile et 
 libenter largiuntur. Vana siquidem fuerit opinio, posse 
 manipulum hominum, utcunque animis et consilio ex¬ 
 cellant, regiones nimio plus amplas et spatiosas, imperii 
 jugo cohibere et froenare. Id ad tempas fortasse facere 
 possint, sed diuturnitatem haec res non assequitur. Spartani 
 parci fuerunt et difficiles in cooptandis novis civibus. Unde 
 donec intra parvos limites dominati sunt, res eorum firmae 
 fuerunt, et stabiles; at postquam limites suos coepissent 
 proferre, et latius dominari, quam ut stirps Spartanorum, 
 
DE PROFERENDIS FINIBUS IMPERII. 
 
 319 
 
 turbam exterorum, imperio commode coercere posset, po¬ 
 tentia eorum corruit. Nulla unquam respublica sinus 
 suos, ad novos cives recipiendos, tam profuse laxavit, quam 
 respublica Romana. Itaque par erat, instituto tam pru¬ 
 denti, fortuna; cum in imperium toto orbe amplissimum 
 succreverint. Moris apud eos erat, jus civitatis prompte 
 elargiri; idque in supremo gradu : hoc est, non solum jus 
 commercii, jus connubii, jus haereditatis; verumetiam jus 
 suffragii, et jus petitionis sive honorum : hocque rursus, 
 non singulis tantum personis, sed totis familiis, imo civita¬ 
 tibus, et nonnunquam integris nationibus communicarunt. 
 Huc adde consuetudinem deducendi colonias, quibus 
 Romanae stirpes in solum exterum transplantabantur. 
 Quae duo instituta, si simul componas, dices profecto, non 
 Romanos se diffudisse super universum orbem ; sed contra, 
 orbem universum se diffudisse super Romanos: quae secu¬ 
 rissima proferendi imperii est ratio. Subit mirari saepius 
 imperium Hispanorum, quod tam paucis indigenis, tot 
 regna et provincias amplexari et frcenare possit. At certe, 
 Hispaniae ipsae, pro arboris stemmate satis grandi haberi 
 debent; cum longe ampliorem contineant regionum trac¬ 
 tum, quam Romae aut Spartae, sub initiis suis, contigerat. 
 Porro, quanquam jus civitatis, satis parce soleant Hispani 
 impertire, quod proximum tamen est, faciunt; quippe, qui 
 cujuscunque nationis homines, ad militiam suam ordina¬ 
 riam, promiscue admittant. Quinetiam, summum belli 
 imperium, haud raro, ad duces, natione non Hispanos, 
 deferunt. Attamen, et illam ipsam, videntur, non ita 
 pridem, indigenarum paucitatem sensisse, eique succurrere 
 cupiisse; ut ex pragmatica sanctione, hoc anno promulgata, 
 cernere est. 
 
 Certissimum est, artes mechanicas sedentarias, quae 
 non sub dio, sed sub tecto exercentur; atque manufacturas 
 delicatas, que digitum potius quam brachium requirunt: 
 sua natura, militaribus animis esse contrarias, [n uni¬ 
 versum, populi bellicosi feriari gaudent, et pericula quam 
 labores minus exhorrent, Atque in hoc ingenio suo, non 
 sunt admodum reprimendi, si animos ipsorum in vigore 
 conservare, cordi nobis sit. Magno itaque adjumento, 
 Spartae, Athenis, Romae, aliisque, antiquis rebuspublicis 
 fuit, quod habuerint non ingenuos, sed servos plerunque, 
 quorum laboribus istiusmodi opificia expediebantur. Verum 
 mancipiorum usus, post legem Christianam receptam, 
 maxima ex parte, abiit in desuetudinem. Huic vero rei 
 proximum est, ut artes istae alienigenis tantum permit- 
 
320 
 
 DE PROFERENDIS FINIBUS IMPERII. 
 
 tantur; qui propterea alliciendi, aut saltem facile recipiendi 
 sunt. Nativorum autem plebs ex tribus generibus homi¬ 
 num constare debet; nempe ex agricolis; famulis inge¬ 
 nuis ; et artificibus, quorum opera robur et lacertos viriles 
 postulant: cujusmodi sunt fabri ferrarii, lapidarii, lignarii, 
 et similes; non annumerando militiam descriptam. 
 
 Ante omnia, ad imperii magnitudinem confert, ut gens 
 aliqua armorum studium profiteatur, tanquam decus suum, 
 et institutum vitae primarium, et in praecipuo honore 
 habitum. Quae enim a nobis adhuc dicta sunt, ad habili¬ 
 tates tantum erga arma spectant; quorsum autem habilitas, 
 si non rei ipsi incumbitur, ut producatur in actum ? 
 Romulus (ut narrant, aut fingunt,) postquam e vivis ex¬ 
 cesserat, illud civibus suis legavit, ut ante omnia rem 
 militarem colerent, unde in caput orbis terrarum urbs 
 eorum insurgeret: imperii Spartani fabrica universa, (non 
 nimis prudenter quidem, sed diligenter tamen,) ad illum 
 finem et scopum, composita est et constructa, ut cives sui 
 belligeratores essent. Persarum, et Macedonum, idem 
 erat institutum, sed non tam constans aut diuturnum. 
 Britanni, Galli, Germani, Gothi, Saxones, Normanni, et 
 nonnulli alii, etiam ad tempus armis se praecipue dedi¬ 
 derunt. Tureae idem institutum, lege sua paululum exti- 
 mulati, hodie retinent, sed magna cum militiae suae, (ut 
 nunc est,) declinatione. In Europa Christiana, gens quae 
 illud adhuc retinet et profitetur, soli sunt Hispani. Verum 
 res est, tam liquida, et manifesta, unumquemque in eo 
 proficere maxime, in quo plurimum impendit studii, ut 
 verbis non indigeat. Satis fit innuisse, desperandum 
 omnino alicui nationi esse, quae non ex professo arma et 
 militiam colat, iisque precipue studeat et incumbat, sibi 
 veluti ultro obventuram, insignem aliquam imperii magni¬ 
 tudinem : contra autem, certissimum esse temporis oracu¬ 
 lum, nationes illas, quae in armorum professione et studiis 
 diutius permanserint : (id quod Romani, Turcaeque, potis¬ 
 simum fecere;) miros in imperio amplificando facere 
 progressus. Quin et illae, quae bellica gloria, per unius 
 tantummodo secuti spatium floruere; inde tamen, unico 
 illo seculo, eam imperii amplitudinem assecutae sunt, quam 
 longo post tempore, etiam remissa illa armorum disciplina, 
 retinuerunt. 
 
 Praecepto praecedenti affine est; ut status quis utatur 
 ejusmodi legibus, et consuetudinibus, quae justas illi 
 causas, aut saltem praetextus, arma capescendi, tanquam 
 in promptu ministrent. Etenim, ea est insita animis horni- 
 
 
DE PROFERENDIS FINIBUS IMPERII. 321 
 
 num justitiae apprehensio, ut bellum, (quod tot sequuntur 
 calamitates,) nisi gravem ob causam, saltem speciosam, 
 inferre abstineant. Tureis praesto est semper, et ad nutum, 
 belli causa; propagatio scilicet legis et sectae suae. Ro¬ 
 mani, quanquam pro magno decore imperatoribus apud eos 
 fuerit, si tines imperii ipsorum protulissent, tamen ob hanc 
 causam, ut fines proferentur, nunquam bella susceperunt. 
 Aspiranti igitur ad imperium nationi, illud in more sit; ut 
 sensum habeat vividum et acrem, injuriae alicujus; vel 
 subditis suis limitaneis, vel mercatoribus, vel publicis mi¬ 
 nistris, illatae ; neque a prima provocatione diutius torpeat, 
 aut tardet. Item, prompta sit, et alacris, ad auxilia mit¬ 
 tenda sociis suis, et foederatis: id quod perpetuum erat 
 apud Romanos: adeo ut, si forte in populum foederatum, 
 cui etiam cum aliis foedus defensivum intercederet, hostilis 
 impressio facta esset; atque ille a plurimis suppetias pete¬ 
 ret; Romani omnium primi semper adessent, beneficii 
 decus, nemini praeripiendum relinquentes. Quod vero 
 attinet ad bella, antiquis temporibus, propter statuum con- 
 formitatem quandam, aut correspondentiam tacitam, gesta, 
 non video in quo jure illa fundata sint. Talia fuerunt 
 bella, quae a Romanis, suscepta erant, ad Graeciam in 
 libertatem vindicandam; talia a Lacedaemoniis et Athe¬ 
 niensibus, ad constituendas, aut evertendas democratias, et 
 oligarchias: talia quandoque illata sunt, a rebuspublicis 
 aut principibus, sub praetextu, subditos alienos protegendi, 
 et a tyrannide liberandi. Ad rem praesentem sufficiat, ut 
 illud decernatur; non esse expectandam, statui alicui, im¬ 
 perii amplitudinem, nisi ad quamvis occasionem justam se 
 armandi, protinus expergiscatur. 
 
 Nullum omnino corpus, sive sit illud naturale, sive poli¬ 
 ticum, absque exercitatione, sanitatem suam tueri queat. 
 Regno autem, aut reipublicae justum, atque honorificum 
 bellum loco salubris exercitationis est. Bellum civile pro¬ 
 fecto instar caloris febrilis est; at bellum externum instar 
 caloris ex motu, qui valetudini imprimis conducit. Ex 
 j pace enim deside atque torpente, et emolliuntur animi, et 
 | corumpuntur mores. Sed utcunque res se habeat, qua- 
 | tenus ad alicujus status felicitatem, magnitudinis procul- 
 I dubio interest, ut quasi semper in armis sit. Atque exer¬ 
 citus veteranus, perpetuo tanquam sub vexillis habitus, et 
 si res sit, magni proculdubio sumptus et impensae ; attamen 
 ejusmodi est, ut statui alicui, quasi arbitrium rerum inter 
 vicinos, aut saltem plurimum existimationis ad omnia, con¬ 
 ferat Id quod insigniter cernere est in Hispanis, qui jam 
 
 VOL. XV. Y 
 
322 
 
 DE PROFERENDIS FINIBUS IMPERIT. 
 
 per annos centum et viginti, exercitum veteranum, ad ali¬ 
 quas partes, licet non semper ad easdem, aluerunt. 
 
 Maris dominium, monarchiae quaedam epitome est. Ci¬ 
 cero, de Pompeii contra Caesarem apparatu, scribens ad 
 Atticum: “ Consilium (inquit) Pompeii, plane Themisto¬ 
 cleum est; putat enim, qui mari potitur, eum rerum potiri.” 
 Atque Caesarem Pompeius, proculdubio delassasset, et 
 attrivisset, nisi inani fiducia inflatus, ab illo incepto desti¬ 
 tisset. Praelia navalia, quanti fuerint momenti, ex multis 
 exemplis patet. Pugna ad actium, orbis imperium deter¬ 
 minavit. Pugna ad insulas cursolares, circulum in naribus 
 Tureae posuit. Multoties certe evenit, ut victoriae navales, 
 finem summae belli attulerint; sed hoc factum est, cum 
 aleae hujusmodi praeliorum, totius belli fortuna commissa 
 est. Illud minime dubium, quod qui maris potitur do¬ 
 minio, in magna libertate agit, et tantum, quantum velit, 
 de bello sumere potest: ubi contra, qui terrestribus copiis 
 est superior, nihilominus plurimis angustiis conflictatur. 
 At hodie, atque apud nos Europaeos, si unquam, aut uspiam, 
 potentia navalis, (quae quidem huic regno Britanniae in 
 dotem cessit,) summi, ad rerum fastigia, momenti est; tum 
 quia pleraque Europae regna mediterranea simpliciter non 
 sunt, sed maxima ex parte mari cincta; tum etiam, quia 
 utriusque Indiae thesauri et opes, imperio maris, veluti 
 accessorium quiddam, existunt. 
 
 Bella moderna, veluti in tenebris gesta, censeri possunt, 
 prae gloria et decore vario, quae in homines militares, priscis 
 temporibus, a rebus bellicis, resilire solebant. Habemus 
 hodie, fortasse ad animos faciendos, ordines quosdam ho¬ 
 norificos militiae; qui tamen jam facti sunt armis et togae 
 communes: etiam in scutis gentilitiis, stemmata nonnulla 
 habemus: insuper, hospitia quaedam publica, militibus 
 emeritis et mutilatis destinata, et hujusmodi. Verum, 
 apud veteres, in locis, ubi victoriae partae sunt, extructa 
 trophaea; laudationes funebres; monumenta magnifica oc¬ 
 cumbentium in bello; coronae civicae; militares, singulis 
 concessae; nomen ipsum imperatoris, quod postea reges 
 maximi a belli ducibus mutuati sunt; redeuntium ducum, 
 bellis prospere confectis, celebres triumphi; donativa atque 
 largitiones ingentes in milites, sub exercituum dimissionem: 
 haec (inquam) tot et tanta fuerunt, et tam insigni splendore 
 coruscantia, ut pectoribus mortalium, etiam maxime con¬ 
 glaciatis, igniculos subdere, eaque ad bellum inflamare 
 potuerint. Ante omnia vero, mos ille triumphandi, apud 
 Romanos, non res erat ex pompa, aut spectaculum quod- 
 
DE PROFERENDIS FINIBUS IMPERII. 
 
 323 
 
 dam inane, sed inter prudentissima plane nobilissimaque 
 instituta, numerandus : utpote, qui in se haec tria haberet; 
 ducum decus et gloriam; aerarii ex spoliis locupletatio¬ 
 nem; et donativa militum. Verum honor triumphi, for¬ 
 tasse monarchiis non competit, praeterquam in personis 
 regum ipsorum, aut filiorum regum; quod etiam, tempori¬ 
 bus imperatorum, Romae obtinuit: qui honorem ipsum 
 triumphi, sibi et filiis suis, de bellis, quae praesentes ipsi 
 confecerant, tanquam peculiarem reservarunt: vestimenta 
 autem solummodo, et insignia triumphalia, aliis ducibus 
 indulsertmt. 
 
 Verum, ut sermones hos claudamus; nemo est, (ut tes¬ 
 tatur sacra Scriptura, “ qui sollicite cogitando, potest appo¬ 
 nere ad staturam suam, cubitum unum; ” in pusillo scilicet 
 corporis humani modulo: caeterum in magna regnorum et 
 rerumpublicarum fabrica, imperium amplificare, et fines 
 proferre, reges penes et dominantes est. Nam prudenter 
 introducendo leges, instituta, et consuetudines, quales jam 
 proposuimus, et alias his similes, posteris, et seculis futuris, 
 magnitudinis sementem fecerunt. Verum ista consilia apud 
 principes raro tractantur, sed res fortunae plerunque com¬ 
 mittitur. 
 
 XXX. DE REGIMINE VALETUDINIS. 
 
 In regimine valetudinis, invenire est quandam prudentiam, 
 ultra regulas medicinae : observatio cujusque propria, eorum 
 quae nocent, eorum quae juvant, optima est medicina ad 
 sanitatem tuendam. Verum tutius est concludere : “ Hoc 
 sensi mihi nocuisse, ergo eo non utar;” quam isto modo: 
 “ Hoc quod sensi, minime offendit, ergo eo uti licet.” 
 Etenim vigor juventutis, excessus plurimos tegit, qui tamen 
 in senectute tandem velut debita exigentur. Considera 
 aetatem ingruentem, neque confide eadem perpetuo con¬ 
 tinuare: non enim bellum indicendum senectuti. Cave a 
 subita aliqua mutatione, in regiminis parte quapiam prin¬ 
 cipali ; quod si necessitas urgeat, csetera ad eam mutatio¬ 
 nem accommoda. Secretum enim est, et naturale, et poli¬ 
 ticum ; “ Tutius est, multa mutare quam unum magnum.” 
 Examini tamen subjicias consuetudines tuas; disetm, somni, 
 exercitationis, vestium, mansionis, et similium : et, si quid 
 nocumento esse judices, experire illud paulatim exuere; 
 ita tamen, ut si ex mutatione nocumenti aliquid perceperis, 
 ad consueta redeas: difficile enim distinguere inter ea, 
 
324 
 
 DE REGIMINE VALETUDINIS. 
 
 quae toto genere sunt salubria, et ea quae corporis tui unici 
 constitutioni conveniunt. Vacuo animo esse, et hilari, ad 
 horas cibi, somni, et exercitationis, est ex optimis prae¬ 
 ceptis, ad prolongandam vitam. Quatenus ad animi pas¬ 
 siones, et studia; devita invidiam; metus anxios; iram 
 intus cohibitam; subtiles et nodosas disquisitiones; gaudia, 
 et exhilarationes immodicas; tristitiam alte pressam; et 
 non communicatam. Amplectere spes; laetitiam potius 
 quam gaudium; delectationum varietatem magis quam 
 satietatem; admirationem, et propterea novitates; studia 
 quae animum replent splendidis et illustribus objectis; ve- 
 luti, historias, fabulas, peragrationes naturae. Medicatio¬ 
 nem si omnino fugias, valetudine utens bona, corpori in¬ 
 gratior accedet, cum necessitas ingruerit. Eidem si nimium 
 assuescas, detrahet de viribus et efficacia ejus, quando 
 morbus advenerit. Probo potius diaetas quasdam, ad certa 
 tempora, quam usum medicamentorum frequentem; nisi 
 jampridem transierit in consuetudinem. Diaetae enim hu¬ 
 jusmodi, alterant corpus magis, perturbant minus. Ne 
 contemnas accidens aliquod in corpore tuo novum et insue¬ 
 tum, sed consilium medicorum circa illud adhibe. Dum 
 aegrotas, valetudinem tuam cura maxime; dum vales, cor¬ 
 pore tuo utere, nec sis nimis delicatus : qui enim, dum 
 valet, corpori tolerantiam imperat; in morbis compluribus, 
 qui scilicet non sunt acuti; diaeta sola, et corporis regimine 
 paulo exquisitiore, curari possit absque multa medicatione. 
 Celsus monitum illud suum, nunquam parturiisset ut me¬ 
 dicus, nisi una fuisset vir prudens. In praeceptis dat, tan- 
 quam arcanum tuendae valetudinis, et prolongandae vitae; 
 ut quis contraria alternet, et subinde mutet, sed cum incli¬ 
 natione in extremum benignius. Nempe, victu utere par¬ 
 ciore, et pleniore, sed pleniore saepius; vigiliis, et somno 
 largiori insuescas, sed somno magis: quietem, et motum 
 sive exercitium repetas, sed frequentius motum; et similia. 
 Ita enim natura simul et fovebitur, et robur acquiret. Ex 
 medicis aliqui, erga aegrum, et ejus desideria, tam sunt 
 indulgentes, ut morbi curam legitimam non urgeant; alii 
 contra, tam regulares et rigidi, in procedendo secundum 
 artem, circa curam morbi, ut aegri conditionem et naturam, 
 non satis respiciant: medicum elige temperaturae mediae: 
 vel si hoc ad votum, in uno aliquo medico, non cesserit, 
 adhibe ex utroque genere unum : atque memor sis advo¬ 
 care medicum, corporis tui gnarum, non minus quam in 
 arte sua spectatum. 
 
325 
 
 XXXI. DE SUSPICIONE. 
 
 Suspiciones inter cogitationes, sunt ut inter aves vesper¬ 
 tiliones : nunquam volitant, nisi luce crepera. Reprimen¬ 
 dae certe sunt, aut saltem caute custodiendae: mentem 
 enim obnubilant; amicos alienant; et negotia interpellant ; 
 ita ut nec alacriter, nec constanter, peragi possint. Reges 
 inclinant ad tyrannidem; maritos ad zelotypiam; etiam 
 prudentes ad animi vacillationem, et melancholiam. Sunt 
 autem suspiciones, defectus, non tam cordis, quam cerebri: 
 locum enim reperiunt, etiam in fortissimis animis: exem¬ 
 plo esse poterit Henricus Septimus, rex Angliae: quo non 
 fuit alter suspicacior, nectamen animosior. In ejusmodi 
 vero temperatura, minus nocent: plerunque enim non 
 admittuntur, nisi prius discutiantur, utrum probabiles sint, 
 annon? Utrum in meticulosis ingeniis, nimio plus prae¬ 
 valent. Nihil certe aeque facit hominem multa suspicari, 
 ac parum scire. Itaque rectissime adhibetur remedium, 
 ad suspiciones, ut quis inquisitionem urgeat. Fumo enim 
 et tenebris aluntur suspiciones. Quid sibi tandem volunt 
 homines ? Existimantne cunctos, quorum opera utuntur, 
 et quibuscum versantur, angelos esse, aut sanctos? Nes- 
 ciuntne illos, ad suos proprios fines, aspirare; et unum¬ 
 quemque proximiorem esse sibi, quam alteri? Nullus 
 itaque est modus, moderandis suspicionibus aptior, quam 
 remedia parare, ac si suspiciones essent verse, iis vero 
 frcena injicere, ac si essent falsae. Eatenus enim suspi¬ 
 ciones usui esse poterint, ut ita nos comparemus, quod 
 quamvis verum foret, quod suspicamur, nocere tamem non 
 possit. Suspiciones, quas ex se mens colligit, sunt nisi 
 inanes bombi: quae vero externo artificio aluntur, ani¬ 
 misque; hominum instillantur, susurronum et famigera¬ 
 torum sermonibus, aculeos habent. Optima certe ratio, 
 expediendi nos, ex impedita hac suspicionum sylva, est 
 libera quaedam et aperta illarum declaratio, apud eos, quos 
 suspectos habemus: hinc enim fieri non potest, quin plus 
 cognoscamus, utrum verse sint, necne, quam antea. Hoc 
 simul reddet eum, quem suspectum habemus, cautum 
 magis et circumspectum, ne novam praebeat suspicionis 
 ansam. Sed hoc fieri non oportet, cum hominibus pravae 
 indolis, et degeneris: hi enim, ubi semel se suspectos sen¬ 
 tiant, fideles postmodum nunquam evadent. Diverbium 
 habetur apud Italos, “ Sospetto licentia fede.” Quasi 
 suspicio fidei missionem daret: cum potius fidem accen¬ 
 dere deberet, ut seipsam liberaret. 
 
32(5 
 
 XXXII. DE DISCURSU SERMONUM. 
 
 Sunt qui in sermonibus, affectant potius ingenii laudem, 
 qua in quamcunque partem disputare possint, quam ju¬ 
 dicii, in veritate enucleanda: ac si laudabile esset, inve¬ 
 nire quid dici possit, non quid teneri debeat. Sunt qui in 
 promptu habent, locos aliquos communes, et themata, in 
 quibus luxuriantur, caetera steriles et jejuni ; quod penuriae 
 genus plerunque taedio afficit, et quamprimum notam su¬ 
 bierit, in ridiculum evadit. Pars sermonis honoratior, 
 haec est; ansam sermonis praebere; et rursus eidem mode¬ 
 rari, ac ad alia transire; tunc enim quis choream ducit. 
 Bonum sane, in conversatione et colloquiis familiaribus, 
 subinde variare; et sermones circa res praesentes cum 
 disputationibus; narrationes cum argumentis; quaestiones 
 cum positivis; jocosa cum seriis, immiscere: satietatem 
 siquidem et fastidium parit, in aliquo subjecto diutius 
 haerere. Quantum ad jocos; sunt quaedam, quae a joco, 
 veluti privilegio, eximi debent; religio, negotia reipub- 
 licae, personae sublimes, privatorum negotia majoris mo¬ 
 menti, denique casus omnis miserabilis. Nonnullos tamen 
 reperies, quibus ingenia sua obdormiscere videbuntur, 
 nisi acutum aliquem et mordacem sarcasmum in quempiam 
 contorserint. Ille habitus omnino coercendus : 
 
 Parce puer stimulis, et fortius utere loris. 
 
 In summa, discrimen servandum, inter salsa, et amara. 
 Certe, qui satyricam amplectitur venam, sicut aliis metum 
 injicit ab ingenio suo, ita ab aliorum memoria metuere 
 debet. Qui interrogat multum, et addiscet multa, et pla¬ 
 cebit in multis; praesertim si quaestiones suas, ad captum 
 et peritiam respondentis, adaptet; siquidem occasionem 
 ei praebebit scientiam suam ostentandi; ipse autem novis 
 continuo scientiae augmentis dotabitur. Molestae autem 
 ne sint quaestiones; id examinatori convenit. Etiam qui 
 sermonis familiaris dignitatem tueri cupit, aliis vices lo¬ 
 quendi relinquat. Quin et, si qui adsint, qui dominari in 
 sermonibus, et tempus universum occupare studeant, illos 
 arte quadam abrumpere sciat, et alios ad loquendum indu¬ 
 cere ; sicut tibicines moderari solent saltantibus. Scien¬ 
 tiam si quandoque dissimules, eorum quae scire existi¬ 
 maris, putaberis alias ea scire, quae nescis. Sermo alicujus 
 de seipso, rarus esse debet, et cum judicio. Novi quen- 
 
DE DISCURSU SERMONUM. 
 
 327 
 
 dam, cui saepe in ore erat, per ironiam: “ Oportet hunc 
 egregie sapientem esse, ita multa de seipso liquitur.” Vix 
 occurrit casus aliquis, in quo se laudare quis decore possit, 
 praeter unum: is est, si virtutem alterius laudet; sed eam 
 intelligo virtutem, ad quam ipse aspirat. Sermo alios 
 pungens et vellicans, parce utendus: etenim sermones 
 familiares debent esse instar campi aperti, in quo spatiari 
 licet; non viae regiae, quae deducit domum. Noveram 
 nobiles duos, ad partem Angliae occidentalem; quorum 
 alter scommatibus nimio plus indulgebat, sed hospitalis 
 admodum erat. Alter autem quaerere solebat, a convivis 
 illius prioris: “ Dic sodes ; annon scomma aliquod inter¬ 
 cesserat, in quempiam jactum?” Cui conviva forte: 
 “ Tale aliquid contigit.” At ille, utpote alterius iEmulus : 
 u Satis sciebam, eum prandium bonum malis condimentis 
 corrupturum.” Sermo cum discretione praestat eloquen¬ 
 tiae ; et apte loqui, et accommodate, ad personam cum 
 qua colloquimur, efficacius est, quam ornamenta verborum, 
 aut methodi, captare. Continuata oratio bona, absque 
 interlocutione bona, tarditatem monstrat: at replicatio, 
 et interlocutio bona, absque facultate orationem conti¬ 
 nuandi, penuriam, et scientiam minime fundatam, prodit: 
 quemadmodum in animalibus videmus, quae cursu minus 
 valent, flexu maxime agilia esse : ut fit inter leporarium, 
 et leporem. Circumstantiis nimio pluribus, orationem 
 vestire, antequam rem ipsam attingas, taedium parit; 
 iisdem penitus carere, abruptum quiddam est, et ingratum. 
 
 XXXIII. DE PLANTATIONIBUS POPULORUM, ET 
 
 COLONIIS. 
 
 Colonis eminent inter antiqua et heroica opera. Mun¬ 
 dus, cum adhuc juvenis esset, plures progenuit liberos; 
 nunc senex factus, pauciores Etenim, non immerito colo¬ 
 nias novas, tanquam liberos nationum antiquiorum, duxe¬ 
 rim. Plantationem populorum probo in solo puro: intel¬ 
 ligo, ubi populus non destruitur, ut populus inseratur: 
 hoc enim cum fit, extirpatio prorsus est, non plantatio. 
 Plantatio regionum non absimilis est plantationi sylvarum : 
 in quibus de utilitate capienda nihil cogitandum ante 
 annum vicesimum : verum fructus uber et locuples, in fine 
 operis, expectandus. Illud certe, quod praecipue colonias, 
 alias bene successuras, evertit, fuit, sordida illa et avida 
 lucri captatio, sub initiis coloniarum. Verum est, lucri 
 
328 DE PLANTATIONIBUS POPULORUM, 
 
 segetem acceleratam, non negligendam, modo cum bono 
 colonise conjuncta sit, sed non ultra. Indignum quiddam 
 et infaustum est, cum faex populi, exules, et damnati, in 
 colonise seminarium sumuntur. Quin et coloniam ipsam 
 corrumpit et perdit. Hujusmodi enim homines profligati 
 instar erronum degent; nec operi accingent, sed otio se 
 dedent; quin et scelera perpetrabunt, fruges consument, 
 et colonise fastidio afficientur : ac tum demum, nuncios et 
 literas in patriam mittent, in plantationis prsejudicium et 
 dedecus. Populus, qui in coloniam sumatur, prsecipue 
 sint artifices generum sequentium: hortulani, aratores, 
 fossores, fabri ferrarii, fabri lignarii, piscatores, aucupes, 
 chirurgi, pharmacopolse, coci, pistores, cervisiarii, et hujus¬ 
 modi. In regione, ubi plantare instituis, circumspice pri¬ 
 mo, quod genus esculentorum et pocuientorum, terra ex 
 sese, sine cultura, edat: velati castaneas, juglandes, nuces 
 pinus, olivas, dactylos, pruna, cerasa, mei silvestre, et 
 similia; atque illis, ut par est, utere. Dein disquire, quod 
 genus victualiorum, solum proferre possit celeriter, intra 
 annum: veluti pastinacas, caricas, brassicas, cepas, ra¬ 
 phanos, melones, pepones, cucumeres, artiplices de Hie¬ 
 rusalem, maiz, et alia. Quantum ad triticum, siliquam, 
 hordeum, et avenam, nimiam grana haec poscunt cultu¬ 
 ram: attamen a fabis et pisis etiam inchoare licet: tum 
 quia minore opera indigent; tum quia non minus cibi 
 loco, quam panis, inserviunt. Etiam ab oriza multiplex 
 provenit seges ; quae et cibi quoque copiam facit. Ante 
 omnia, magna copia transportanda, panis biscocti, farinm 
 ex avena, pollinis, farinae omnigenae, et similium, ut sub 
 initiis praesto sint, donec panis confici possit. Pecudes, 
 et aves, delige eas, quae a morbis praecipue immunes sunt, 
 et prae caeteris prolificae : quales sunt porci, caprae, galinae, 
 galinae Indicae, anseres, columbae domesticae, cuniculi, et 
 similes. Praecipio autem piscationibus incumbendum, tum 
 ad sustentationem coloniae, tum ad lucrum exportationis. 
 Commeatus in coloniis adeo parca manu fere distribuen¬ 
 dus, ac si in oppidis obsessis esset; hoc est, pro rata. 
 Maxima autem pars soli, quod in hortos aut segetes con¬ 
 vertitur, horreis publicis assignetur; in quibus fruges 
 reponantur, et mensura certa distribuantur: ita tamen ut 
 supersint nonnullae fundi portiones, in quibus industria 
 singulorum se exerceat. Circumspice insuper, quas merces 
 nativas regio illa producat, ut exportatio earum, in loca 
 ubi maxime in pretio sunt, sumptus levet; ut usuvenit 
 in nicotiano apud Virginiam; modo non sit, (ut jam dic- 
 
ET COLONIIS. 
 
 329 
 
 tum,) in praejudicium intempestivum coloniae ipsius. Syl- 
 vae in regionibus desertis, ut plurimum, abundant; itaque 
 ligna, ad aedificia, naves, aut ejusmodi usus apta, inter 
 praecipuas merces numeranda. Si inveniatur vena ferri, 
 et rivuli ad molendina ferraria idonei, ferrum e mercibus 
 quaestuosis est, in regionibus sylvosis. Salis nigri con¬ 
 fectio per calorem solis, si clima ferat, digna res est quae 
 tentetur. Etiam sericum vegetabile, si adsit, merx est 
 lucrosa. Pix cujuscunque generis, ubi proveniunt pinus 
 et abietes, semper praesto est. Quin et pharmaca, et ligna 
 odorata, si reperiantur, haud parvum commodum praebent. 
 Etiam cineres, quibus ad sapam utuntur, non modicum 
 utilitatis afferent: similiter et alia quae perquiri possunt. 
 Verum fodinis ne confidas nimium, praesertim a principio. 
 Fodinae enim fallaces sunt, et sumptuosae; et spe pulchra 
 lactantes, colonos reddunt circa alia socordes. Regimen 
 coloniae committatur uni, cui tamen assideant consiliarii 
 aliquot; atque muniantur auctoritate, ad exemplum juris 
 militaris, sed aliquantulum restricta. Ante omnia, hunc 
 sibi decerpant homines fructum, vivendo in eremo; ut 
 Deum semper, ejusque cultum, prae oculis habeant. Rur¬ 
 sus, colonia, a numerosiore concilio, (intelligo in regione, 
 matre coloniae, residente,) non pendeat; nec ob contri¬ 
 butiones exiguas multitudini nimiae subjiciatur; sed sit 
 numerus eorum, qui negotia coloniae procurant et ordinant, 
 moderatus: sintque potius ex nobilibus, et generosis, quam 
 mercatoribus; hi enim lucro praesenti plus satis inhiant. 
 Sit plane immunitas a vectigalibus et portoriis, donec 
 colonia adoleverit: neque tantum immunitas a solutionibus 
 pecuniarum concedatur, sed etiam libertas merces in quas¬ 
 cunque velint partes exportandi; nisi gravis aliqua causa 
 obfuerit. Coloniam populo ne farcias aut superoneres, 
 alios post alios mittendo : sed potius informationi diligenti 
 intende, quot capita de tempore in tempus minuantur; 
 eaque numero conveniente, pro rata, suppleas; ita tamen, 
 ut coloni bene victitent, nec penuria affligantur. Magnum 
 jampridem salubritati complurium coloniarum detrimentum 
 intulit, aedificatio juxta mare et fluvios, in locis paludinosis 
 et aquosis. Itaque, etsi ab hujusmodi locis incipiendum, 
 propter vecturae et aliarum rerum commoditatem, paulatim 
 tamen in superiores regionis partes, et ab aquis remotiores, 
 
 I ascendendum. Interest etiam sanitatis coloniae, ut salis 
 
 i * 
 
 sat bona copia convehatur; quo cibi, quos verisimile est 
 putridos aliter saepe futuros, condiantur. Si coloniam 
 plantes, ubi barbari sedes suas habeant, neutiquam eos 
 
330 
 
 DE PLANTATIONIBUS POPULORUM, ETC. 
 
 nugis tantum, et tricis, concilies ; sed justitia, et modis 
 gratiosis, demerere; nihil tamen de praesidiis minuendo; 
 quae ad securitatem pertinent: neque etiam benevolentiam 
 eorum aucupare, auxiliis contra hostes suos; sed auxiliis 
 defensivis non incommodum erit subvenire. Interest 
 etiam, aliquos ex indigenis, saepe in regionem, unde colonia 
 migravit, mittere; ubi videant conditiones hominum suis 
 multo praestantiores; idque sub reditu, inter suos divul¬ 
 gent, Postquam colonia adoleverit, et robur acceperit, 
 tempestivum erit mulieres summittere; ut colonia ex sese 
 propagetur, nec semper ab externis pendeat. Super omnia 
 flagitiosissimum est, coloniam semel deductam, deserere et 
 destituere; praeterquam enim quod de decori est, nil aliud 
 est, quam proditio mera, profusioque sanguinis, complu¬ 
 rium hominum miserorum. 
 
 XXXIV. DE DIVITIIS. 
 
 Divitias cognomine magis proprio vocare nequeam, 
 quam ut eas appellem impedimenta virtutis. Sicut enim 
 se habent impedimenta ad exercitum, ita divitiae ad vir¬ 
 tutem : necessariae siquidem sunt, sed graves : quinetiam 
 cura illarum victoriam saepe disturbat. Divitiarum mag¬ 
 narum nullus est usus, praeterquam in iis expendendis : 
 caetera in opinione versantur. Idem dictat Solomon : 
 “ Ubi multae sunt opes, multi qui comedunt eas; et, 
 “ quid prodest possessori, nisi quod cernat divitias oculis 
 suis ? ” Possessio divitiarum, nulla voluptate dominum 
 perfundit, quantum ad sensum : est sane custodia ipsa¬ 
 rum ; est etiam potestas donativi aut distributionis; est 
 et fama, et inflatio ab ipsis; sed non datur solidus ipsa¬ 
 rum usus, qui ad dominum pertingat. Annon vides fleta 
 illa pretia, quibus gemmee, et hujusmodi rariora, aesti¬ 
 mantur ; et quam inania opera suscipiantur, ad ostenta¬ 
 tionem meram, ut usus aliquis divitiarum magnarum 
 videri possit? Sed dicet quispiam, usum earum vel in hoc 
 maxime cerni posse; quod dominos ex periculis et cala¬ 
 mitatibus redimant: ut ait Solomon : “ Substantia divitis 
 urbs roboris ejus, et quasi murus elevatus in imaginatione 
 sua: ” sed caute Solomon, quod imaginatione, non reipsa, 
 tales sunt. Plures enim, sine controversia, divitiis suis 
 magnis venerunt, quam redempti sunt. Divitias magnas 
 ne secteris; sed quas parare possis juste, impendere sobrie, 
 erogare hilariter, et libenter dimittere. Neque tamen con- 
 
DE DIVITIIS. 
 
 331 
 
 temptum ipsarum, instar monachi alicujus, aut a seculo 
 abstracti, foveas; sed de usu distingue; sicut Cicero 
 optime de Rabirio Posthumo; “ In studio rei amplifi¬ 
 candae, apparebat, non avaritiae praedam, sed instrumentum 
 bonitati quaeri.” Ausculta etiam Solomoni, nec praepo- 
 perae opum accumulationi inhia: “Qui festinat ad divi¬ 
 tias, non erit insons.” Fingunt poetae, Plutum, (qui divi¬ 
 tias sonat,) a Jove missum, claudicare, et' tardigradum 
 esse: a Plutone autem, currere, et pedibus celerem. In¬ 
 nuentes, divitias, bonis artibus, et justo labore, partas, 
 tarde accedere ; sed per mortem aliorem advenientes (veluti 
 ex haereditatibus, testamentis, aut similibus,) praecipitanter 
 ruere. Nec minus poterit fabula ea de Plutone intelligi, 
 si Plutonem pro diabolo accipias. Cum enim opes a 
 diabolo fluunt, (veluti, per fraudes, oppressiones, injusti- 
 ciam, et scelera,) rapido cursu feruntur. 
 
 Viae ad ditescendum variae, et pleraeque earum foedae. 
 Parsimonia inter optimas censeri possit, neque tamen ipsa 
 omnino innocens est: opera enim liberalitatis et charitatis 
 coarctat. Soli cultura, quasi ad divitias maxime genuina; 
 utpote quae benedictio magnae matris Telluris sit; verum 
 lenta est haec via. Attamen ubi homines insigniter opu¬ 
 lenti, se ad agriculturam, et lucra rustica, submittunt, 
 divitias in immensum coacervant. Noveram ex proceribus 
 Angliae quendam, cui maximi reditus proveniebant, e re 
 rustica, supra subditos caeteros quoscunque aetatis meae. 
 Dives erat armentis ; ovibus; sylvis, tam caeduis, quam 
 grandioribus; lithanthracibus ; frumento; plumbi et ferri¬ 
 fodinis ; et compluribus aliis proventibus rusticis. Adeo 
 ut terra ei instar maris erat, merces perpetuo importans. 
 Recte a quodam observatum; se magno cum labore ad 
 exiguas, et nullo fere ad magnas divitias, pervenisse. 
 Postquam enim res alicujus nummaria, sic increverit, ut 
 nundinarum et mercatuum opportunitates praestolari possit; 
 atque eos contractus superare, quibus ob summae magni¬ 
 tudinem, perpauci admodum homines apti sunt; atque 
 etiam in laboribus aliorum participare, qui minus pecunia 
 abundant; fieri non potest, quin supra modum ditescat. 
 Lucra - ex professionibus, honesta certe sunt; et duabus 
 rebus promoventur maxime; diligentia, et fama bona 
 propter probitatem in negotiando. At lucra ex contrac¬ 
 tibus majoribus, plerunque naturae magis ancipitis; cum 
 quis scilicet aliorum necessitates et angustias obsideat; 
 servos et ministros alienos in damnum dominorum cor¬ 
 rumpat ; emptores alios, qui in majora forte pretia con- 
 
332 
 
 DE DIVITIIS. 
 
 sensissent, artificiose et vafre summoveat; et hujusmodi 
 fraudes exerceat; quae omnes merito damnandae sunt. 
 Quantum vero ad emptiones, animo, non retinendi, sed 
 rursus divendendi, illae ex utraque fere parte molunt; tam 
 venditorem, quam emptorem prementes. Societates locu¬ 
 pletant affatim; si cautus adhibeatur delectus eorum, qui- 
 buscum societas initur. Foenus ex certissimis lucri gene¬ 
 ribus est, licet ex pravissimis: utpote quod hominem 
 panem suum comedere faciat, in sudore vultus alieni; 
 atque in sabbatho operari non cessat. Attamen certum 
 licet sit, non caret rimis suis secretis: siquidem notarii, et 
 institores, ad commodum proprium, homines fortunarum 
 debiarum, quandoque extollent. Primum esse in inven¬ 
 tione aliqua nova, aut privilegio, inundationem quandam 
 opum interdum largitur: sicut contigit primo sacchari 
 excoctori in Canariis: itaque si quis se peritum dialecti¬ 
 cum praestare possit, us addat inventioni judicium, magna 
 haud dubie efficiet; praesertim si tempora sint propitia. 
 Qui lucra tantummodo certa captat, aegre ad magnas divi¬ 
 tias assurget: contra, qui totus in incertis est, vix fortuna¬ 
 rum dispendia vitabit: bonum igitur fuerit incerta lucra 
 certis munire, ut damnis subveniatur. Monopolia, et 
 mercium coemptiones ad revenditionem, ubi lege nulla 
 prohibentur, ad divitias viam sternunt facilem ; praesertim 
 si quis prospicere possit, quae merces in aestimationem 
 venturae sint, atque eo modo se illis abunde instruat. 
 Opum acquisitio, per servitium regum, aut magnatum, 
 dignitatem quandam habet; tamen si assentationibus, et 
 servilibus artificiis, sese ad omnes nutus flectendo, paren¬ 
 tur, inter vias vilissimas poterit numerari. Quantum ad 
 venationem testamentorum, et legatorum, (quemadmodum 
 Tacitus Senecam insimulat: “ Testamenta et orbos tan- 
 quam indagine capi;”) adhuc pejor est haec res : quanto 
 cum hominibus conditionis humilioris, rem habemus, quam 
 in servitio. 
 
 Fidem illis nimiam ne adhibeas, qui prae se ferunt con¬ 
 temptum divitiarum : etenim opes despiciunt, qui despe¬ 
 rant; neque invenies usquam tenaciores, ubi incipient 
 ditescere. Ne sis in minutis tenax; divitiae alas habent, 
 et aliquando ex sese avolant, aliquando emittendae sunt, 
 ut ampliores congregent. Opes suas moribundi relinquunt, 
 aut usui publico; aut liberis, cognatis, et amicis; in 
 utroque genere, legationes paulo moderatiores melius ce¬ 
 dunt. Divitiae magnae haeredi relictae, aves rapaces un¬ 
 dique ad eas convolare invitant; nisi haeres fuerit aetate et 
 
DE DIVITUS. 
 
 333 
 
 judicio confirmatior. Similiter fundationes gloriosae et 
 splendidae, in usus publicos, sunt instar sacrificiorum sine 
 sale; et nihil aliud quam, dealbata eleemosynarum sepul- 
 chra; quae ab intus cito corrumpentur et putrefient. Itaque 
 dona tua, magnitudine ne metiaris, sed commoditate; et ad 
 debitam mensuram redigas: neque opera charitatis in mor¬ 
 tem usque differas: etenim, si quis recte rem aestimet, qui 
 id facit, ex alieno potius donat, quam e proprio. 
 
 XXXV. DE AMBITIONE. 
 
 ! 
 
 I 
 
 I 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 1 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 i 
 
 
 Ambitio choleram refert: quod genus humoris, activos, 
 vehementes, alacres, et promptos reddit; nisi obstruc¬ 
 tionem patiatur. Quod si obstructione concludatur, adeo 
 ut libere permeare nou possit, fit adusta, et inde maligna 
 et venenosa: similiter ambitiosi, si in ambitu et petitione 
 sua, repulsas non patiantur, sed semper sint in progressu, 
 polypragmones potius sunt quam periculosi: sin in cupidi¬ 
 tatibus fraenentur, et subinde frustrentur, malevolentiam et 
 invidiam in corde fovent; et iniquo prorsus oculo, tum res, 
 tum homines intuentur; ac tum demum in sinu laetantur 
 cum res male cedant: qui quidem animi affectus, cum 
 servis regum, aut rerumpublicarum pessime congruit. 
 Bonum itaque principibus fuerit, (si ambitiosis utantur,) 
 ita rem disponere, ut perpetuo directi, nunquam retrogradi 
 sint. Quod quia sine praejudicio fieri non potest, melius 
 esset, ab hujusmodi ingenii hominibus omnino abstinere. 
 Etenim, si ipsi cum servitio suo non assurgant, operam 
 dabunt ut servitium suum cum ipsis corruat. Verum, quia 
 modo diximus ambitiosos non adhibendos, nisi urgente 
 necessitate, operae pretium fuerit jam dicere, quibus in 
 casibus, necessarius sit eorum usus. 
 
 Imperatores et duces in bello boni, utcunque ambitiosi 
 sint, omnino recipiendi: etenim utilitas ipsorum, ut praefi¬ 
 ciantur, caetera compensat: militem autem deligere, qui 
 ambitione vacet, perinde est, ac si calcaribus eum spolies. 
 Quin et alter usus ambitiosorum est, ut umbellae loco prin¬ 
 cipibus sint, contra invidiam et periculum: nemo enim eas 
 partes subibit, nisi sit instar columbae occaecatae, quae ideo 
 in sursum volat, quia circumspicere non potest. Est etiam 
 alius usus ambitiosorum non parvus, ut praegrandibus alas 
 amputent, et eorum potentiam labefactent; quemadmodum 
 Macronem Tiberius adhibuit, ad dejiciendum Sejanum. 
 
 Quandoquidem igitur, in casibus memoratis, necessarii 
 
334 
 
 DE AMBITIONE. 
 
 sint, superest ut ostendamus, qua ratione sint frcenandi et 
 coercendi, ut minus ab illis impendeat periculi. Perniciosi 
 minus sunt, si natalibus ignobiles, quam si nobiles: si 
 ingenio paulo truciores et asperiores, quam si gratiosi et 
 populares: denique si nuper honoribus admoti, quam si 
 veteratores facti sint, et in honoribus suis muniti. Signum 
 infirmi animi in principibus, a plerisque ducitur, si grati¬ 
 osos et intimos sibi adjungant: attamen, si verum dicen¬ 
 dum est, non aliud reperitur remedium praestantius, contra 
 potentiam nimiam procerum, aut magistratuum. Siquidem, 
 quando juvandi et nocendi potestas, penes gratiosum resi¬ 
 det, vix fiet, ut alius aliquis ex proceribus, magnopere 
 potentia turgeat. Alia ratio ambitiosos coercendi non mala 
 est, si per alios aeque ambitiosos, et protervos, librentur : 
 sed tum opus est consiliariis aliquibus moderatioribus, qui 
 partes medias teneant, ne factiones omnia pessundent: 
 etenim absque illa saburra navis vacillabit nimis. Saltem 
 allicere poterint principes, et animare aliquos humilioris 
 conditionis, qui ambitiosorum veluti flagella sint. Quan¬ 
 tum ad ingenerandam illam in ambitiosis opinionem, ut se 
 ruinae proximos putent, atque eo modo contineantur; si 
 meticulosi fuerint, bene forsitan cedet; sin animosi et 
 audaces, praecipitabit conatus et machinationes eorum; 
 neque est sine periculo. Quod si necessitas flagitet, ut 
 revera rejiciantur, neque id simul, et subito, facere, tutum 
 foret; optimum erit, favoribus et repulsis, eos, alternis, 
 excipere; unde attoniti et confusi haereant, nescientes quid 
 expectent, et veluti intra sylvam ambulent. 
 
 Ex ambitionibus, minus est nociva, cupiditas praevalendi 
 in rebus majoribus, quam se immiscendi rebus omnibus : 
 istud enim confusionem consiliorum parit, et negotia 
 destruit. Etiam minus periculi incumbit, ab ambitioso in 
 negotiis acri, quam ab eo qui gratia et clientelis pollet. 
 Qui inter strenuos, et negotiis pares, eminere studet, 
 magnam profecto suscipit provinciam ; verum hoc publico 
 utile est: qui vero illud machinatur, ut viros cordatos 
 deprimat, et ipse solus inter ciphras numerus sit, seculi 
 alicujus lues est et calamitas. Honor tribus insignitur 
 commodis; potestate bene-merendi; aditu facili ad viros 
 principes; et fortunarum proprarium in melius evectione: 
 qui optimam, ex his tribus, fovet intentionem, cum aspirat, 
 vir probus est: princeps quoque, qui hujusmodi in servis 
 suis intentiones, dignoscere valeat et distinguere, princeps 
 est prudens. Verum in genere, prseoptandi sunt princi- 
 
DE AMBITIONE. 
 
 335 
 
 pibus hujusmodi servi, qui officio magis ducantur, quam 
 ambitione: quique negotia amplectantur et ament, potius 
 ex conscientia bona, quam ex ostentatione: denique dis¬ 
 tinguant principes, cum judicio, inter ingenia, quae sese 
 omnibus negotiis ingerunt, et animum promptum seu 
 alacrem. 
 
 XXXVI. DE NATURA, ET INDOLE NATURALI 
 
 IN HOMINIBUS. 
 
 Natura occultatur saepenumero, interdum vincitur, raro 
 extinguitur. Vis naturam efficit magis impetuosam cum 
 recurrit; doctrina et praecepta affectus naturales reddunt 
 minus quidem importunos, sed non tollunt; verum consue¬ 
 tudo sola ea est, quae naturam plane immutat et subigit. 
 Qui victoriam de natura sua reportare cupit, sibi nec nimis 
 magna, nec parva nimis pensa, constituat: priora enim 
 animum dejicient, propter frustrationes crebras; posteriora 
 non multum attollent, etiamsi saepius praevaleat. Atque 
 sub initiis exerceat se adminiculis quibusdam; ut natatores 
 recentes, vescicis aut juncis; deinde cum impedimentis, ut 
 saltatores solent, calceis gravioribus. Etenim, perfectionem 
 in re qualibet inducit, si exercitatio difficilior sit, quam 
 usus. Ubi natura admodum potens est, et proinde victoria 
 difficilis, opus erit per gradus quosdam procedere, qui tales 
 sint; primo, naturam sistere ad tempus aliquod; more 
 illius, qui cum irasceretur, literas alphabeti, priusquam 
 quicquam faceret, recitare solebat: secundo, naturam mo¬ 
 derari, et ad minores portiones deducere; ut si quis, absti¬ 
 nentiam a vino exercens, a majoribus haustibus ad minores 
 deveniat: postremo autem, naturam penitus sub jugum 
 mittere et domare. Verum si quis eo animi robore et con¬ 
 stantia polleat, ut se subito eximere et vindicare poterit, 
 hoc optimum fuerit: 
 
 Optimus ille animi vindex, laedentia pectus 
 
 Vincula qui rupit, dedoluitque semel. 
 
 Neque antiqua regula rejicienda; ut naturam, adinstar 
 bacilli, in contrariam partem flectas; quo recta tandem 
 deveniat. Verum intellige hoc, ubi extremum illud alterum, 
 in vitium non ducat. Insuper et hoc advertas, ne habitum 
 superinducere contendas, nixu continuo, sed intermisso ; 
 nam intermissio impetum redintegrat, et adauget; et si 
 
336 
 
 DE NATURA, ETC. IN HOMINIBUS. 
 
 quis, dum tyronem agit, perpetuo se exerceat, eveniet, ut 
 errores, non minus quam facultatem imbibat. Neque huic 
 malo succurritur, nisi per tempestivas intermissiones. Prae¬ 
 terea, victoriae in naturam, non nimium cito, triumphum 
 accinas; natura enim, ad longum tempus, sepulta jacebit, 
 et tamen occasione data reviviscet: id quod contigit puellae 
 apud AKsopum, ex fele in mulierem conversae; quae civiliter 
 admodum in mensa sedebat, donec mus in conspectu ejus 
 forte curreret. Itaque occasiones tales, aut omnino evites, 
 aut iisdem frequentius insuescas, quo minus moveant. 
 Indoles cujusque naturalis optime deprehenditur, in con¬ 
 suetudine familiari; in hac enim nulla intervenit affectatio: 
 in perturbationibus; siquidem illae praecepta et regulas 
 penitus excutiunt: denique, in casu aliquo novo et insolito; 
 quia tum a consuetudine deseritur. Felices dixerim, quo¬ 
 rum indoles naturalis, cum vitae suae genere congruit: alias 
 vere dicere possint; “ Multum incola fuit anima mea.” In 
 studiis, quicquid a natura tua alienum repereris, stata tem¬ 
 pora tibi praefigos ad ejusdem exercitationes et medita¬ 
 tiones ; sin autem cum genio tuo convenerit, de statis horis 
 ne sis solicitus; cogitationes enim tuae sponte illuc convo¬ 
 labunt, prout negotia et studia caetera permittent. Natura 
 cujusque, ex vi innata, aut bonas, aut malas herbas, pro¬ 
 ducit : itaque sedulo et tempestive illas irriget, has evellat. 
 
 XXXVII. DE CONSUETUDINE ET EDUCATIONE. 
 
 Cogitationes hominum sequuntur plerunque inclina¬ 
 tiones suas ; sermones autem, doctrinas, et opiniones quas 
 imbiberunt; at facta eorum ferme antiquum obtinent. 
 Itaque, ut bene notat Macciavellus, (licet in exemplo sce¬ 
 lerato,) minime fidendum est, aut naturae violentiae, aut 
 verborum grandiloquentiae, nisi corroborentur consuetudine. 
 Instantia ejus haec est: in facinore aliquo audaci et crudeli 
 patrando, non acquiescendum esse, aut in naturae alicujus 
 ferocia, aut in promissis constantibus, nedum juramentis; 
 sed committendum scelus esse viris sanguinolentis, et jam- 
 dudum caedibus assuetis. Sed Macciavello, de fratre quo¬ 
 piam Clemente, aut Ravillaco, aut Jauregua, aut Baitazare 
 Gerardo, aut Guidone Faulxio, nihil innotuit. Verum 
 tenet regula ejus; naturam, aut promissorum fidem et fero¬ 
 ciam, viribus consuetudinis haud aequipollere. Solum¬ 
 modo, superstitio; nostris temporibus, eo provecta est; ut 
 primae classis sicarii, laniis obfirmatis minime cedant; 
 
337 
 
 DE CONSUETUDINE ET EDUCATIONE. 
 
 atque decreta votiva, etiam in re sanguinaria, consuetu¬ 
 dinis vires exaequent. In aliis quibuscunque, consuetu¬ 
 dinis potentia clare elucescit: adeo ut miraculi instar sit, 
 audire, quot professiones, protestationes, promissa, verba 
 grandia, jactitent plurimi; et tamen, istis omnibus post¬ 
 habitis, pro more consueto agere: acsi imagines essent, et 
 machinae plane inanimes, solis consuetudinis rotis impulsae 
 et actae. Videre etiam licet consuetudinis tyrannidem, in 
 aliis multis. Indi, (loquor de gymnosophistis, et veteribus, 
 et modernis,) se leniter super pyram componunt, atque hoc 
 modo seipsos igne sacrificant. Quin et fceminae cum 
 maritis in rogum immitti properant. Pueri Spartani, anti¬ 
 quis temporibus, flagris caedi sustinebant, super aram 
 Dianae, vix ejulatu, aut gemitu ullo emisso. Memini sub 
 initiis reginae Elizabethae, rebellem quendam Hibernum, 
 supplicationem deputato obtulisse, ut torque lignea, non 
 fune, suspenderetur; quia illud magis in more rebellibus 
 erat. Inveniuntur monachi in Russia, qui ad poeniten¬ 
 tiam complendam, tota nocte hyemali, in vase aqua repleto, 
 non recusabunt sedere, donec glacie constringantur. Plu¬ 
 rima denique exempla adduci poterint, plane stupendas 
 consuetudinis vires, tam super animum, quam super cor¬ 
 pus, prodentia. Quandoquidem igitur mos, veluti summus 
 sit humanae vitae moderator et magistratus, curae sit im¬ 
 primis, ut mores bonos asciscamus. Certe consuetudo 
 validissima, cum a pueritia incipit: hanc educationem 
 appellamus ; quae nihil aliud est, quam a teneris annis 
 imbibita consuetudo. Ita videre est, in linguis ediscendis, 
 linguam ipsam magis commode se applicare omnibus ex¬ 
 pressionibus et sonis; artus quoque magis agiles et flexiles, 
 ad omnes posituras et motus esse; in pueritia, aut adoles¬ 
 centia, quam postea. Verissimum enim est, opsimathes 
 istos novam plicam non bene admittere: nisi fuerit in non¬ 
 nullis hominibus, quibus animi nondum fixi, sed eosdem 
 apertos ad omnia praecepta conservarunt, quo continuo 
 emendationem reciperent; id quod rarissimum est. 
 
 Verum si consuetudinis vires, cum simplex solummodo 
 sit, et sejuncta, tantae sint; multo magis consuetudo copu¬ 
 lata, et conjuncta, et in collegium coacta, excellit. Isthic 
 enim exemplum docet, relevat societas, emulatio stimulat, 
 gloria animos extollit: ita ut in hujusmodi locis, vires et 
 influxus consuetudinis tanquam in exaltatione sint. Certe, 
 multiplicatio, et (ut chymicorum vocabulo utar,) projectio, 
 super naturam humanam, consistit in societatibus bene 
 institutis, et disciplina salubri informatis. Etenim respub- 
 
 VOL. XV. z 
 
338 DE CONSUETUDINE ET EDUCATIONE. 
 
 licae recte administratae, quin et leges bonae, alunt virtutem 
 in herba, sed semina ipsius non multum promovent. Verum 
 infelicitatis orbis hoc habet, ut media maximarum virium, 
 applicentur quandoque finibus, minime expetendis. 
 
 XXXVIII. DE FORTUNA. 
 
 Negari non potest, quin accidentia et casus externi, ad 
 hominum fortunas, vel promovendas, vel deprimendas, plu¬ 
 rimum possint. Gratia alicujus ex magnitibus, oppor¬ 
 tunitas, aliorum obitus, occasio virtuti cuj usque congrua. 
 Veruntamen, fortunam suam fingere cuique praecipue, in 
 manu propria est. “ Faber quisque fortunae suae;” inquit 
 comicus. Atque inter externas causas illa frequentissima: 
 Stultitiam unius, alterius fortunam promovere. Nemo 
 enim ita subito evehitur, ac occasione errorum alterius. 
 Ut inquit adagium; “ Serpens, nisi serpentem comederit, 
 non fit draco.” 
 
 Virtutes apertae et conspicuae laudes pariunt; at insunt 
 virtutes quaedam occultae et latentes, quae pariunt fortunam. 
 Nimirum, facultates nonnullae se expediendi, quae nomen 
 non habent. Hispanum vocabulum, (desemboltura,) eas 
 quadam ex parte innuit. Scilicet; cum non inveniuntur 
 in natura alicujus obices aut impedimenta: sed rotae animi 
 ad motum rotarum fortunae versatiles sunt. Ita enim 
 Livius, (postquam Catonem majorem his verbis descrip¬ 
 sisset ; “ In illo viro, tantum robur corporis et animi fuit, 
 ut quocunque loco natus esset, fortunam sibi facturus 
 videretur,”) illud diserte notat, quod ei fuisset ingenium 
 versatile. Quare si quis limis et adductis oculis aspiciat, 
 videbit Fortunam: caeca enim licet sit, haud tamen prorsus 
 invisibilis. Etenim via fortunae similis est galaxiae in 
 aethere ; quae concursus est, sive coacervatio complurium 
 stellarum minutarum, seorsim invisibilium, sed conjunctim 
 luminosarum. Eodem modo, complures virtutes sunt 
 exiguae, et vix in notam incurrentes; sive potius facultates 
 et consuetudines appositae; quae fortunatas reddunt. Itali 
 ex ipsis nonnullas notant; quales quis minime putaret. 
 Cum hominem innuunt, cui prosperam fortunam spondent, 
 inter caeteras ejus qualitates adjicient, quod habeat poco di 
 matto. Neque sane inveniuntur aliae duae qualitates, magis 
 ad hanc propitiae; quam si quis habeat modicum ex stulto, 
 et non nimium ex honesto. Itaque, quibus patria, aut 
 principes sui, nimio plus chari extiterunt; iidem nunquam 
 
DE FORTUNA. 
 
 339 
 
 fortunati fuerunt; neque profecto esse possunt. Quando 
 enim cogitationes suas, extra se ipsum quis collocaverit, 
 viam suam bene inire nequit. 
 
 Fortuna praepropera, magna molientes, et nonnihil tur¬ 
 bulentos, reddit; at fortuna exercita ea est, quae efficit 
 prudentes et cordatos. Fortuna proculdubio, saltem propter 
 filias suas, honorem meretur; confidentiam scilicet, et exis¬ 
 timationem; etenim has duas parit fortuna prospera; alte¬ 
 ram intra nos ipsos; alteram in aliis erga nos; eaeque 
 vicissim pariunt animos et auctoritatem. Viri cuncti pru¬ 
 dentes, quo invidiam suarum virtutum amoliantur, omnia 
 providentiae et fortunae imputare solent: ita enim decentius 
 et liberius, eas sibi assumere possint: quinetiam majes¬ 
 tatem homini quandam addit, si videretur Numini curae 
 esse. Sic Caesar dum animaret gubernatorem navis in 
 tempestate, dixit; “ Caesarem portas, et fortunam ejus/’ 
 Sic Sylla nomen Felicis elegit, non Magni. Atque illud 
 observationem non praeteriit; eos, qui ex professo, sapientiae 
 et artibus propriis, nimium tribuerunt, in fine, infortunatos 
 evasisse. 
 
 Narratur de Timotheo Atheniensi, postquam in reddendis 
 rationibus praefecturae suae, hanc clausulam, ad ravim usque, 
 inseruissit; “ Atque in hoc nullae erant fortunae partes;” 
 deinceps illi nihil cessisse prospere. Sunt certe, quorum 
 fortuna similis carminibus Homeri, quae majore cum faci¬ 
 litate fluunt, quam aliorum poetarum versus: id quod 
 Plutarchus de fortuna Timoleontis, ad fortunas Agesilai, 
 aut Epaminondae, comparata, praedicat. Hoc vero ut fiat, 
 sine dubio, in nobis ipsis, maxime situm est. 
 
 XXXIX. DE USURA SIVE FCENORE. 
 
 Plurimi invectivas quasdam ingeniosas, in fceneratores, 
 commenti sunt. Dicunt; miserum esse, diabolum in Dei 
 partem involasse, decimus scilicet. Foeneratorem maxi- 
 | mum esse sabbathi violatorem; aratrum siquidem suum 
 j non cessare sabbathis. Foeneratorem fucum esse, de quo 
 Virgilius ; 
 
 Ignavum fucos pecus a praesepibus arcent. 
 
 Foeneratorem, legem primitivam, post lapsum hominis, 
 latam, pessundare; quae fuit; “ In sudore vultus tui co¬ 
 medes panem tuum;” minime vero; in sudore vultus alieni. 
 Fceneratores pileis luteis indui oportere, qui judaizant. 
 
340 
 
 DE USURA SIVE FCENORE. 
 
 Rem esse contra naturam, ut pecunia generaret pecuniam ; 
 et hujusmodi alia. Ego vero hoc dico tantum; “ Foenus 
 esse, inter concessa, propter duritiem cordis. Cum enim 
 necesse sit hominibus, ut pecunias mutuo dent, et accipi¬ 
 ant; sintque tam duro corde, ut eas gratis commodare 
 nolint, reliquum est ut permittantur usurae. Alii nonnulli 
 in medium adduxerunt, callidas quasdam et suspectas pro¬ 
 positiones, de argentariis, et excambiis publicis, detectione 
 fortunarum hominum singulorum, et aliis hujusmodi arti¬ 
 ficiis. Verum pauci de fcenore disseruerunt solide et utiliter. 
 Optimum fuerit proponere nobis ante oculos, fcenoris com¬ 
 moda, et incommoda; ut bonum vel ponderetur, vel sepa¬ 
 retur; quinetiam cavere imprimis, ne dum foenore feramur 
 in melius, intercipiamur et incidamus in pejus. 
 
 Incommoda fcenoris haec sunt. Primum, quod mercato¬ 
 rum numerum minuit. Nam si ignava haec, pecuniae in 
 foenus erogatio, e medio tolleretur, nummi non delitescerent 
 prae socordia, sed, magna ex parte, in mercaturam impen¬ 
 derentur ; quae instar venae portae, cuivis regno est, ad opes 
 introducendas. Secundum, quod mercatores inopes reddit: 
 sicut enim colonus, terram colere ita fructuose nequit, si 
 reditum solvat nimis gravem; ita mercator, tam commode 
 et lucrose, mercaturam suam exercere vix potest, si pecuniis 
 foenore sumptis, negotietur. Tertium incommodum duorum 
 priorum appendix quaedam est, portoriorum et vectigalium 
 publicorum imminutio, quae fluunt et refluunt, pro modo 
 commercii. Quartum, quod thesaurum, et pecunias regni; 
 sive reipublicae in paucorum manus reducit: cum enim 
 foeneratoris lucrum certum sit, caeterorum incertum, eveniet 
 in fine ludi, prout fit saepe in alea, ut maxima pars pecuniae 
 promo cedat. Illud autem pro inconcusso tenendum, florere 
 rempublicam imprimis, cum pecuniae dispergantur, non 
 coacerventur. Quintum, quod terrae et praediorum pretium 
 deprimit: etenim pecuniae insumuntur, vel in mercaturam, 
 vel in praediorum coemptiones; foenus autem utrique obvi¬ 
 are videtur. Sextum, quod omnes labores, molimina, et 
 inventa nova quaecunque, enervat et hebetat; in quibus 
 pecunia minime sibi deesset, nisi a torpedine ista impedi¬ 
 retur. Postremum, quod tinea est et teredo facultatum 
 quam plurimorum hominum; id quod, tractu temporis, 
 egestatem publicam parit. 
 
 E contrario, commoda foenoris haec sunt. Primo, quod 
 utcunque usurae in aliquibus mercaturae noceant, in aliis 
 nihilominus prosunt: certissimum enim est, maximam 
 mercaturae partem, a junioribus mercatoribus exerceri, 
 
DE USURA SIVE FCENORE. 
 
 341 
 
 foenore sumptis pecuniis; unde si foenerator, pecunias 
 suas, vel exigat, vel non emittat, secutura necessario est 
 magna mercaturae clades. Secundum est, quod nisi 
 prompta haec a fceneratoribus pecuniarum mutuatio, homi¬ 
 num necessitatibus subveniret, in extremas angustias cito 
 redigerentur; quandoquidem cogerentur res suas, (sive 
 bona mobilia fuerint, sive praedia,) nimis vili pretio ven¬ 
 dere : itaque, ubi fcenus rodit tantum, distractiones prae¬ 
 properae penitus absorberent. Nam quantum ad oppigne- 
 rationes, aut ea quae a jureconsultis appellantur mortua 
 vadia, huic certe malo remedium vix exhibebunt: siquidem 
 aut ea prorsus non accipient homines sine fcenore; aut si 
 accipiant, solutione ad diem minime praestita, summo jure 
 agent. Memini pecuniosum quendam, virum durum, rure 
 agentem, qui solebat dicere: “ In malam crucem abeat 
 ista fceneratio; impedimento est, quo minus pignorum et 
 obligationum pcenas exigere possimus.” Tertium et ulti¬ 
 mum hoc est: nugas meras dico, si quis existimet, mutua¬ 
 tionem pecuniarum facilem, non admisso fcenore, fieri 
 posse: neque rursus quis animo comprehenderit, innu¬ 
 mera quae sequentur mala, si contractus illi, mutui dati 
 et accepti, convellantur. Itaque de abolendis prorsus 
 usuris sermones facere ineptum foret. Respublicae omnes, 
 pro diversa tamen ad sortem ratione, eas tolerarunt; adeo 
 ut opinio illa in Utopiam protinus releganda. 
 
 Dicamus jam de reformatione et norma usurarum, quibus 
 nimirum modis, incommoda earum optime evitentur, com¬ 
 moda retineantur. Patet jam, conferendo inter se com¬ 
 moda et incommoda usurarum, (quod modo fecimus,) duo 
 esse, quae reconciliare oportet. Prius, ut retundantur 
 dentes fcenoris, ne nimium mordeat: secundum, ut viris 
 pecuniosis aperiatur via, qua ad pecunias mercatoribus 
 praestandum invitentur, ne commercium intercidat aut 
 languescat. Hoc autem fieri non potest, nisi in foenore, 
 duas proportiones introducas; minorem, et majorem. Si 
 enim fcenus, ad unicam tantum proportionem, eamque 
 minorem redigas, mutuo accipientem aliquantulum levabis, 
 sed mercator pecunias non facile reperiet. Atque insuper 
 notandum est, mercaturam, cum sit omnium maxime lu¬ 
 crosa, foenus ad proportionem bene magnam ferre posse ; 
 alios contractus minime. 
 
 Ut his duabus intentionibus satisfiat, hac via insistere 
 licet. Duse sunto fcenoris proportiones: prior omnibus 
 permittatur; posterior cum licentia, aliquibus tantum ho¬ 
 minibus, et in aliquibus reipublicse locis, ubi mercatura 
 
342 
 
 DE USU11A SIVE FCENORE. 
 
 fervet, concedatur. Primo igitur, (si nos audias) reducatur 
 fcenus ad partem vicesimam sortis pro mutuatione in 
 annum: ea proportio edicto promulgetur, ut libera sit 
 omnibus. Pro ea accipienda, princeps sive respublica, 
 mulctae omni renunciet. Hoc ab obstructione aliqua gene¬ 
 rali, aut difficultate majore, mutuationem conservabit. 
 Hoc innumeris mutuatoribus, ruri et alibi degentibus, 
 solamini erit. Hoc magna ex parte praediorum pretia 
 adaugebit. Quandoquidem annuus valor praediorum, hic 
 apud nos in Anglia, excedet illam foenoris, ad hanc propor¬ 
 tionem redacti; quantum annuus valor sex librarum, ex¬ 
 cedit illum quinque tantum. Hoc denique, industrias 
 hominum, ad utilia et lucrosa inventa, acuet et excitabit : 
 eo quod plurimi hujusmodi inventis potius se dedent, 
 quam lucro tam exili, quale diximus, ex usuris, acquies¬ 
 cere; praesertim cum lucro jampridem majori ex iisdem 
 assuevissent. Secundo, certis quibusdam hominibus, com¬ 
 modandi mercatoribus notis, et non aliis quibuscunque 
 hominibus, licentia concedatur: hoc autem fiat, additis 
 cautionibus quae sequuntur. Sit proportio, (etiam haec de 
 qua loquimur,) illa paulo remissior, quam antea solvere 
 solebant: hoc pacto, universi, tam mercatores, quam alii, 
 reformatione hac recreabuntur. Princeps autem, sive 
 respublica, exiguam aliquam summam percipiat, pro licen¬ 
 tiis singulis; reliquum lucri, foeneratori cedat: si enim 
 lucrum fceneratoris leviter tantum minuatur, eum nullo 
 modo a fcenore exercendo deterrebit: exempli gratia; si 
 quis antea decem, aut novem libras, pro sorte centum 
 librarum, quotannis accipere solebat; is etiam octo potius 
 libris, contentus erit, quam foeneratorem exuet; aut certa 
 cum incertis commutabit. Sint isti, quibus licentia scilicet 
 conceditur, numero minime definiti; sed tamen ad urbes 
 aliquas, et oppida quae mercatura florent, restringantur: 
 ita enim, praetextu licentiarum, opportunitatem non habe¬ 
 bunt, pecunias aliorum pro suis commodandi: nec novem 
 aut octo librarum proportio, licentia munita, generalem 
 illam quinque librarum absorbebit: nemo siquidem, pecu¬ 
 nias suas, procul a se mittere, aut in manus ignotas con¬ 
 credere, praeoptabit. 
 
343 
 
 XL. DE JUVENTUTE ET SENECTUTE. 
 
 % 
 
 Juvenis annis poterit esse senex horis, si temporis jactu¬ 
 ram non fecerit. Sed hoc raro contingit. Generaliter, 
 juventus similis est primis cogitationibus, quae secundis 
 sapientia cedunt. Etenim inest cogitationibus juventus 
 quaedam, non minus quam aetatibus. Attamen inventio 
 juvenum vivacior est quam senum; atque imaginationes 
 in mentes eorum illabuntur melius, et veluti divinius. In¬ 
 genia praefervida et quae cupiditatibus violentis, ac per¬ 
 turbationibus, huc illuc impelluntur, non matura fiunt ad 
 res gerendas, donec meridiem aetatis suae attigerint: ut 
 videre est in Julio Caesare, et Septimio Severo. De quo¬ 
 rum posteriore dictum est: “Juventutem egit erroribus, 
 imo furoribus, plenam: ” qui tamen, in serie imperatorum 
 universa, fuit propemodum celeberrimus. Sed ingenia 
 sedata et composita, etiam in juventute florere possint. 
 Cujus rei exempla cernuntur, in Augusto Caesare, Cosmo 
 duce Florentiae, Gastono de Fois, et aliis nonnullis. Ex 
 altera parte, calor et vivacitas, si in senectute inveniantur, 
 temperamentum optimum constituunt ad negotia. Juve¬ 
 nes ad inveniendum magis idonei sunt, quam ad judican¬ 
 dum ; et executione potius quam consiliis validi; et ad 
 negotia nova melius adhibentur, quam ad consueta. Ete¬ 
 nim, experientia senum, in iis quae sub experientia eorum 
 cadunt, eos dirigit; sed in rebus novis, eos seducit. Er¬ 
 rores juvenum negotia saepenumero pessundant; verum 
 errores senum non ultra fere procedunt; nisi ut plus fieri 
 potuisset, aut citius. Juvenes, in rebus gerendis et trac¬ 
 tandis, majora amplectuntur, quam comprehendere va¬ 
 leant; plura movent, quam componere rursus sciunt; ad 
 fines advolant gradibus et mediis non bene pensitatis; 
 praecepta quaedam absurde persequuntur, in quae casu 
 inciderunt; extrema remedia a principio usque tentant; 
 denique quod errores conduplicat, errores agnoscere, aut 
 revocare, detrectant: similes equis male domitis, quae nec 
 se sistere, nec vertere, volunt. Senes plus satis objiciunt; 
 in consultationibus nimium morantur; pericula plusquam 
 expedit reformidant; poenitentia praepropera vacillant; 
 atque negotia raro admodum ad periodum justam dedu¬ 
 cunt; sat putantes mediocritate quadam successus frui. 
 Bonum certe fuerit, in negotiis, mixturam adhibere, et 
 senum, et juvenum: illud enim in praesens utile erit, ut 
 
344 
 
 DE JUVENTUTE ET SENECTUTE. 
 
 virtutes utriusque aetatis, defectus earum corrigent; utile 
 etiam futuro, ut juvenes perdiscant, dum senes moderen¬ 
 tur ; postremo accidentia externa melius compescit, quia 
 senes auctoritate, juvenes gratia et popularitate, pollent. 
 At in moralibus, juventus fortasse primas tenebit, ut se¬ 
 nectus in politicis. Ex Rabbinis quispiam, super textum 
 illum ; “ (Juvenes vestri videbunt visiones, et senes vestri 
 somniabunt somnia ;)” sic infert; quod juvenes, propiore 
 ad se aditu, Deus dignatur, quam senes : quia visio reve¬ 
 latio clarior et manifestior est, quam somnium. Et sane, 
 quanto quis magis, de mundo bibit, tanto plus toxico ejus 
 inficitur: tum senectus, potius in facultatibus intellectus, 
 quam in virtutibus voluntatis et affectuum, proficit. Sunt, 
 qui in juventute admodum praecoces sunt, sed currentibus 
 annis cito marcescunt, et deveniunt evanidi. Tales sunt; 
 primo qui ingenia nacti sunt fragilia, quorum acies facile 
 retunditur: qualis fuit Hermogenes rhetor; cujus libri 
 subtilissimi sunt; verum ipse paulo post stupidus evasit. 
 Secundum genus eorum, quibus naturales quaedam facul¬ 
 tates insunt, quae magis juventutem decent, quam senectu¬ 
 tem ; qualis est oratio fluens, et luxuriosa; quae in juvene 
 laudatur; in sene non item. Ita Cicero loquitur de Hor¬ 
 tensio : “ Idem manebat, neque idem decebat.” Tertium 
 eorum, qui sub initiis, nimium efferuntur; et magnanimi¬ 
 tate praediti sunt, supra quam aetas provectior ferre valeat: 
 qualis fuit Scipio Africanus, de quo Livius ita praedicat; 
 “ Ultima primis cedebant.” 
 
 XLI. DE PULCHRITUDINE. 
 
 Virtus, instar gemmae pretiosae, optima est, sine orna¬ 
 mentis inserta. Atque profecto eadem praestat, in corpore 
 decoro, licet non delicato; quodque aspectus dignitatem 
 potius prae se ferat, quam pulchritudinem. Neque fere 
 reperies, eximie formosos, virtutibus pollere : ac si natura, 
 in hoc magis incubuisset, ut non turpiter erraret, quam ut 
 aliquid excellens produceret. Itaque conversationibus 
 apti sunt, at excelsos spiritus non gerunt: et urbanitati 
 potius student, quam virtuti. Sed hoc in omnibus non 
 tenet. Siquidem Augustus Caesar, Titus Vespasianus, 
 Philippus Pulcher rex Gallus, Edovardus Quartus rex 
 Angliae, Alcibiades Atheniensis, Ismael Persa, viri prorsus 
 magni fuerunt, et nihilominus perpulchri. 
 
 In pulchritudine praefertur venustas colori; et decorus 
 
DE PULCHRITUDINE. 
 
 345 
 
 ac gratiosus oris et corporis motus, ipsi venustati. Ea 
 praecipua pulchritudinis portio quam pictura repraesentare 
 non potest; imo nec effigies ipsa viva, primo aspectu. 
 Non reperitur pulchritudo aliqua excellens, cui non insit 
 aliquid minus conforme, in compagine. Haud facile quis 
 dixerit, utrum Apelles, aut Albertus Durerus, nugator 
 major fuerit; quorum alter hominem secundum propor¬ 
 tiones geometricas effingere voluit; alter, ex compluribus 
 faciebus, optimas quasque partes desumendo, unam sa¬ 
 tagebat depingere excellentem. Tales, (credo,) effigies, vix 
 ulli placebunt, praeterquam pictori ipsi. Non quin existi¬ 
 mem, elegantiorem faciem depingi a pictore posse, quam 
 unquam in vivis fuit; sed hoc ei contingere oportet, ex 
 felicitate quadam, et casu, (veluti musicis sui cantus, non 
 autem ex regulis artis. Videre est facies nonnullas, qua¬ 
 rum partes singulae, examini si subjiciantur, vix unam 
 reperies quam separatim probes; quae tamen in consortio 
 satis placent. Quod si verum sit, pulchritudinem praeci¬ 
 puam sitam esse, in motu decoro, mirum sane non est, si 
 provectiores aetate, aliquando videantur junioribus ama¬ 
 biliores : secundum illud Euripidis; “ Pulchrorum au¬ 
 tumnus pulcher:” etenim fieri non potest, ut juvenis per 
 omnia decus tueatur, nisi forte juventutem ipsam, ad sup¬ 
 plementum decoris assumas. Pulchritudo est instar fruc¬ 
 tus horarii, qui facile corrumpitur; nec diu durat: atque 
 saepe juventutem inducit dissolutam, senectutem autem 
 sero poenitentem: attamen si bene collocetur, virtutes 
 splendere facit, vitia erubescere. 
 
 XLII. DE DEFORMITATE. 
 
 Deformes naturam fere ulciscuntur: sicut enim natura 
 minus illis propitia fuit, ita et illi naturae vicissim adversi ; 
 cum sint plerique ipsorum, (ut loquitur Scriptura,) “ sine 
 affectione naturali.’’ Est proculdubio consensus, inter ani¬ 
 mam et corpus; atque natura, ubi peccat in uno, pericli¬ 
 tatur in altero. Sed quia in fabrica animae conceditur 
 homini electio, in fabrica corporis imponitur necessitas ; 
 astra inclinationis naturalis, obscurantur nonnunquam, a 
 sole virtutis et disciplinae. Consentaneum itaque fuerit, 
 de deformitate dicere, non ut signo, quod quandoque fallit; 
 sed ut causa, quae per-raro effectu destituitur. Quicunque 
 in persona sua, aliquid habet, quod contemptum inducit, 
 perpetuum habet in se stimulum, quo a contemptu se vin- 
 
346 
 
 j 
 
 DE DEFORMITATE. 
 
 dicet: itaque deformes semper audacissimi; in principio, 
 veluti in defensione sua, utpote qui contemptui exponun¬ 
 tur ; sed processu temporis, ex habitu acquisito. Iterum 
 deformitas industiam acuit; ejus generis industriam, ut 
 aliorum defectus et infirmitates sedulo rimentur; unde 
 habeant quod rependant. Praeterea, in potentioribus, sus¬ 
 piciones et zelotypiam, versus eos, extinguit; veluti ho¬ 
 mines quos tuto despicere liceat: competitores autem et 
 aemulos consopit; utpote nihil suspicantes, de promotione 
 eorum ad honores, donec ipsos in possessione honorum 
 videant. Adeo ut si rem diligenter introspicias, in magnis 
 ingeniis, deformitas ascensum ad honores patefacit. Reges, 
 antiquis temporibus, (atque hodie etiam in imperiis non¬ 
 nullis,) eunuchorum fidei magnopere inniti solebant: qui 
 enim erga omnes invidi sunt, uni magis fidi sunt, et ob¬ 
 noxii. Attamen fidem illis adhibebant, potius ut rimatori¬ 
 bus bonis et susurronibus, quam aut magistratibus aut 
 ministris publicis. Similis etiam est ratio deformium. 
 Manet illa regula, quam antea posuimus: deformes, si 
 animosi sint, a derisu et ignominia liberare se gnaviter 
 contendent: quod fieri non potest, nisi aut per virtutem, 
 aut per malitiam. Itaque nil mirum cuiquam videatur, si 
 quandoque in viros egregios evadant; qualis fuit Agesi¬ 
 laus, Zangerus Solymanni filius, iEsopus, Gasca Peruviae 
 praefectus; Quin et Socrates illis annumerari possit; cum 
 aliis. 
 
 XLI1I. DE iEDIFICIIS. 
 
 ^Edes extruuntur, ut in iis habitemus, non ut eas specte¬ 
 mus : pulchritudini igitur praeponatur usus, nisi forte 
 utrunque obtineri possit. Relinquamus fabricas aedium 
 speciosas, quae admirationem incutiunt, palatiis poetarum 
 incantatis ; qui eas extruunt sumptu parvo. Qui domum 
 elegantem aedificat, sed in situ malo, carceri seipsum man¬ 
 dat. Situm autem malum intelligo, non tantum ubi aer 
 insalubris, sed etiam ubi aer inaequalis est: quales sunt 
 aedes, quae extruuntur quidem, in colliculo paululum ele¬ 
 vato ; sed cincto undique, more theatri, collibus altioribus; 
 ubi ardor solis constringitur, venti autem, veluti in canali¬ 
 bus, variis aestibus reciprocantur: adeo ut in hujusmodi 
 situ, subito sentias, diversitatem non minorem, caloris et 
 frigoris, quam si in locis diversis habitares. Neque malum 
 situm facit aeris solummodo conditio prava; verum etiam 
 viarum et adituum incommoditas; fora rerum venalium 
 
indiga; et (si Momum consulas) vicini mali. De complu¬ 
 ribus aliis non loquor; qualia sunt, aquarum absentia; 
 sylvarum defectus, quse et focum, et umbram, praebeant; 
 sterilitas soli, aut quod ex variis glebarum generibus 
 minime commistum sit; prospectus coarctatus; defectus 
 terrae planae et aequabilis; locorum defectus in propinquo, 
 qui venationibus, aucupiis, cursibus equorum, idonei sint; 
 mare nimis in vicino, aut nimis in remoto; commoditas 
 nulla fluviorum navigabilium, aut etiam incommoditas 
 ipsorum ob inundationes; situs remotior ab urbibus mag¬ 
 nis, quod negotiis obest, aut etiam propinquior, quod 
 victui necessaria absorbet, et omnia cara reddit; locus ubi 
 quis latifundia ampla possideat, aut acquirere possit, et 
 locus contra ubi pennas extendere nequeat: quse singula 
 minime eo animo enumeramus, acsi domus aliqua his in¬ 
 commodis omnibus vacare possit, verum ut tot ex illis 
 evitemus, quot evitari concedatur; atque rursus, si quis 
 domos plures aedificet, ita rem disponat, ut quae in una 
 desint commoditates, adsint in altera. Responsum Luculli 
 Pompeio, bellulum erat: qui, cum in palatio Luculli, 
 immensas et luminosas porticus et cameras conspexisset, 
 sic infit: u Optime proculdubio hic habitatur aestate, sed 
 quomodo hyemem toleras? ” Cui Lucullus : “ Quid, num- 
 nam me putas, avium prudentiam non assequi; quarum 
 nonnullae, hyeme ingruente, sedes mutant? ” 
 
 Transeundum jam a situ domus, ad domum ipsam. 
 Imitabimur Ciceronem; qui libros conscripsit “ De Ora¬ 
 tore,” et librum unicum qui inscribitur “ Orator : ” quorum 
 priores praecepta artis tradunt, posterior perfectionem. 
 Describemus igitur palatium regium, atque ejusdem mo¬ 
 dulum quendam conficiemus. Prorsus enim mirabilis res 
 est, tam vastas hodie existere moles in Europa, quales sunt 
 Vaticanum, et Escuriale, et nonnullae aliae; in quibus 
 tamen, cameram aliquam vere magnificam, vix reperies. 
 
 Primum igitur statuo, palatium perfectum neutiquam 
 esse, nisi duas habeat portiones diversas, portionem con¬ 
 vivii, ut loquitur liber Hester; et portionem mansionis 
 sive familiae; alterum ad pompas, magnificentias, et cele¬ 
 britates; alteram, ad'habitationis usum. Intelligo, por¬ 
 tiones istas duas, extrui debere, non ut latera domus, sed 
 ut frontis ipsius partes: easque exterius uniformes esse, 
 licet interius longe diversas. Conjungi autem volumus 
 portiones istas, per turrim sublimem et splendidam, in 
 medio frontis. Atque, quoad portionem convivii, unicam 
 tantum illic cameram poni velim; eamque supra gradus, 
 
348 
 
 DE .EDIFICIIS. 
 
 quinquaginta pedes ad minus altam : et subter eam, came¬ 
 ram item alteram, similis longitudinis et latitudinis,- quae 
 apparatum et instructionem, ad festa, ludos, et ejusmodi 
 magnificentias ; actores etiam, dum se ornent et parent, 
 commode recipiat. Alteram portionem, mansionis, scilicet, 
 dividi velim praecipue, in aulam, et sacellum, utramque 
 amplam et pulchram: eas vero per universam portionis 
 longitudinem, extendi nolim ; sed relinqui in exitu coena- 
 culaduo; hyemale et aestivale: atque subter haec omnia, 
 (excepto sacello,) cellas amplas subterraneas, collocari 
 volo; quae culinis privatis, promptuariis, panariis, et simi¬ 
 libus, inserviant. Quantum ad turrim; eam elevari volo, 
 usque ad duo tabulata ; utrunque quindecim pedes altum, 
 supra duas alas frontis; coopertam plumbo, aequabili, 
 atque statuis per fulcra laterum, in summitate, decoratam : 
 eandem turrim in cubicula diversa distingui volo. Gradus 
 autem turris apertos esse, et in se revertentes, et per senos 
 subinde divisos; utrinque statuis ligneis, inauratis, vel 
 saltem aenei coloris, cinctos, cum statione spatiosa et lata 
 in vertice. Verum cavendum, ne locus ubi famuli come¬ 
 dant, sit ad imum graduum, vel prope : si enim sit, cibo¬ 
 rum nidor ascendet, tanquam in tubo quodam. Et de 
 fronte aedificii hactenus. Tantum intelligo gradus primos 
 ascensus, ad viginti pedes sustolli debere; altitudinem sci¬ 
 licet tabulati inferioris. 
 
 Ultra frontem aedificii, aream spatiosam designo, cujus 
 latera tria sint ipsa aedium fronte haud paulum humiliora; 
 atque in quatuor angulis ejusdem areae, turres extruantur, 
 altitudinem laterum praedictorum nonnihil superantes, ad 
 gradus, quibus in superiora ascendatur, capiendos: quae 
 turres, non recipiantur in planum aedificii; sed extra pro¬ 
 mineant. Area autem integra lapidibus latis quadrangulis 
 minime substernatur,- nam hujusmodi pavimenta calorem 
 molestum aestate, et similiter frigus asperum hyeme, im¬ 
 mittunt; sed habeat ambulacra, ex ejusmodi lapidibus, 
 per latera tantum aedificii; et formam crucis, ex iisdem, in 
 medio; cum quadris interpositis, quae gramine vestiantur, 
 detonso quidem, sed non nimis prope terram. Latus uni¬ 
 versum areae, ex parte convivii, occtipent spatiosae et spe¬ 
 ciosae porticus. In quibus singulis porticibus, sint in la¬ 
 quearibus, tres aut quinque sphaerae concavae, (cupolas 
 vocant,) pulchrae, in longitudine positae ; ad aequalem dis¬ 
 tantiam : sint quoque fenestrae, ex vitro colorato, ubi 
 pingantur columnae, imagines omnigenae, flores, et similia. 
 At latus ex parte familiae, simul cum latere tertio e regione 
 

 DE AEDIFICIIS. 349 
 
 frontis, complectatur cameras praesentiales, et alias usus 
 ac decoris ordinarii; atque rursus cubicula: sintque etiam 
 tria ista, latera ita extructa, ut exhibeant aedificium du¬ 
 plex ; non translucida, sed ex altera tantum parte fenes¬ 
 trata ; ut tam matutinis, quam vespertinis temporibus, 
 praesto sint camerae, in quas sol non intret. Ac commo¬ 
 dentur etiam eo modo, ut habeantur ibi cubicula et camerae 
 tam aestivales ad refrigerium, quam hyemales ad frigus 
 arcendum. Invenies non raro aedes pulchras, sed tamen 
 ita vitro et fenestris repletas, ut vix locum suppeditent, ubi 
 te recipias aut ad solem, aut ad frigus, evitandum. Quan¬ 
 tum ad fenestras prominentes sive arcuatas, eas probo 
 tanquam res commodas, (urbibus sane fenestrae ad planum 
 aedificii, et minime protuberantes, magis conveniunt, prop¬ 
 ter uniformitatem structurae plateas versus,*) sunt enim 
 receptus colloquiis opportuni : atque insuper, tam ventum, 
 quam solem, summovent; quod enim alias, per totam fere 
 cameram, pertransisset, vix ultra fenestram penetrabit. 
 Rarae tamen sint hujusmodi fenestrae arcuatae, non ultra 
 quatuor; duae scilicet, ex utroque latere areae. 
 
 Ultra hanc, quam diximus, aream, sit alia interior, paris, 
 et amplitudinis, et altitudinis; horto per exterius circum¬ 
 cincta ; interius autem, ambulacris pulchris, arcuatis, usque 
 ad primum tabulatum, circundata. Pars autem exterior 
 solarii inferioris versus hortum, quatenus ad duo latera, 
 convertatur in specum sive cavernam, (grottam moderni 
 vocant,) ad umbram et aestivationem; apertam, aut fene¬ 
 stratam, tantum ex parte horti: sit autem caverna illa 
 solo aequa, non omnino depressa; et eleganti pavimento 
 strata, ad terrae vapores excludendos. Erigatur autem in 
 medio istius areae fons splendidus; aut opus aliquod ex 
 statuis magnificum; pavimentum autem simile sit areae illi 
 antedictae. Hujus areae aedificia, ex utroque latere, desti¬ 
 nentur cameris, et conclavibus, secretioribus: latus autem 
 transversum, porticibus etiam secretioribus. Curandum 
 vero, ut aliquae, tam ex cameris et conclavibus, quam ex 
 porticibus, designentur ad usum infirmorum; si forte prin¬ 
 ceps, aut quivis e grandioribus, aegrotaverit. Habeant 
 autem portiones singulae aegris destinatae, (ut moderni lo¬ 
 quuntur,) ante-cameram, cameram ad cubile, et recame- 
 ram. Haec autem, quae diximus, supra secundum solarium 
 collocentur. At latus transversum solarii inferioris, ver¬ 
 sus hortum convertatur in porticum, speciosam, patentem, 
 et columnis fultam. Rursus, supra solarium tertium, 
 ex omnibus tribus lateribus, statuantur porticus elegantes, 
 
 
350 
 
 DE /EDIFICITS. 
 
 columnares, et apertae, ad prospectum et refrigerium horti 
 excipiendum. Verum ad angulos duos lateris trans¬ 
 versi, in solario secundo, accommodentur et ornentur, duo 
 splendida et delicata conclavia, (cabinettos moderni vocant;) 
 pavimento nitente, aulaeis sumptuosis instructa, vitro crys¬ 
 tallino fenestrata, cum cupola elegante in medio. Sint 
 autem conclavia illa, rebus curiosis omnigenis, et spectatu 
 dignis, referata. In supremis quoque porticibus, (si fieri 
 posset,) optarem collocari, juxta parietes, in locis diversis, 
 fonticulos quosdam aquam emittentes; qui per secretos 
 tubos iterum transeant. Interior autem pars, in solario 
 superiore, versus aream, formetur in porticus et ambulacra, 
 bene munita et obducta, ad usum convalescentium. Atque 
 hactenus de modulo palatii ipsius: nam de balneis, et pis¬ 
 cinis, non loquor. Superest tamen, ut antequam ad fron¬ 
 tem aedium pervenias, collocentur areae tres; area viridis, 
 gramine vestita, cum pariete in circuitu, et juxta parietem 
 arboribus, ordine positis, sata area altera, ejusdem ampli¬ 
 tudinis, sed in pariete cujus, sint turriculae extructae, aut 
 simile quid ejusmodi elegantiae: area item tertia, quae cum 
 fronte ipsa aedium, quadrangulum constituat; quam aedi¬ 
 ficio certe aliquo circundatam nolo; neque rursus nudis 
 parietibus cinctam; sed ambulacris supra columnas, non 
 arcus, erectis; in summitate vero plumbo, vel lapide qua¬ 
 drato, coopertis, et ad latera elegantibus statuis parvis, 
 aenei coloris, munitis clausam. Quatenus vero ad aedificia 
 omnia, quae usibus familiaribus inserviunt, summoveantur 
 illa, ad aliquam distantiam, a palatio ipso; ita tamen, ut 
 interponantur porticus humiliores, et obtectae; intra quas 
 ad palatium transire possis. 
 
 XLIV. DE HORTIS. 
 
 Deus ipse primus plantavit hortum. Atque revera, inter 
 solatia humana, illud horti est purissimum. Etenim spi¬ 
 ritus hominum maxime reficit et oblectat; quo sine, aedifi¬ 
 cia et palatia, manus tantum sunt opera, nec sapiunt natu¬ 
 ram. Quinetiam notabis, secula cum proficiunt in cultura 
 et magnificentia, citius pervenire ad aedificiorum pulchri¬ 
 tudinem, quam ad hortorum elegantiam et amaenitatem : 
 quasi elegantia illa hortorum esset res perfectior. 
 
 Statuo in hortis regalibus, assignari oportere hortos, pro 
 singulis anni mensibus: in quibus, separatim, plantae, quae 
 illo mense florent et vigent, producantur. Pro Decembri, 
 

 DE HORTIS. 351 
 
 Januario, et fine Novembris, eligendae sunt plantae, quae 
 per totam hiemem virescunt; Quales sunt, aquifolia ; 
 hedera; laurus; juniperus; cupressus; taxus; buxus; 
 pinus; abies: rosmarinus; lavendula; pervinea, flore albo, 
 purpureo, et caeruleo, chamedris; irides quoad folia; 
 arantia, limones, et myrtus, si calidariis conserventur; et 
 amaracus juxta parietem et versus solem satus. Sequuntur 
 pro fine Januarii, et Februario; arbustum chamaeleae ger- 
 manicae sive mezereonis, quae eo tempore floret; crocus ver¬ 
 nus, flore luteo, et glauco; primulae veris; anemones; tulipa 
 praecox : hyacinthus orientalis; chamairis; fritellaria. Pro 
 Martio; omne genus violarum, praecipue purpureae simplici 
 flore, quae sunt praecocissimae; pseudo-narcissus luteus ; 
 bellis; amygdalus, quae tunc floret; malus persica, et 
 cornus, quae etiam tunc florent; rubus odoratus. Pro Aprili; 
 viola flore albo multiplice; parietaria lutea: leucoium; 
 herba paralysis; irides, et lilia omnigena; flores roris 
 marini; tulipa; paeonia, flore multiplice; narcissus verus; 
 periclemenum sabaudicum; cerasus, et pyrus, et prunus 
 diversi generis in flore; acanthus, quae tum folia emittit; 
 arbor lelac. Pro Maio, et Junio; cama-cariophyllus om¬ 
 nium generum, praecipue virgineus; omne genus rosarum, 
 moschata sola excepta, quae serius floret; periclemenum 
 commune; fraga; buglossum; columbina; flos africanus, 
 simplex, et multiplex; cerasus, quae tum fructum profert; 
 ribes; ficus in fructu; baccae rubi idaei, vitis flores; laven¬ 
 dula florens; satyrium hortense flore albo; herba muscaria; 
 lilium convallium ; malus florens; flos cyaneus. Pro Julio; 
 cariophyllata omnium generum; rosa moschata; tilia flo¬ 
 rens ; pyra, et poma, et pruna praecocia. Pro Augusto; 
 pruna omnium generum; pyra; mala armeniaca; baccae 
 oxyoecanthae; nuces avellanae; melones moschatelline; et 
 omnigeni coloris delphinum, sive consolida regalis. Pro 
 Septembri; uvae; poma; papaver variorum colorum; mala 
 persica; melo-cotonea; nectarinae; corna; pyra hyemalia; 
 cydonea. Pro Octobri, et principio Novembris; sorba; 
 mespila; pruna sylvestria; rosae serae; malvae arbores- 
 centes flore roseo; et similia. Hae vero, quas enumera¬ 
 vimus, plantae, climati Londinensi conveniunt. Sed hoc 
 volo, ut sit alicubi, quasi ver perpetuum, prout fert loci 
 conditio. 
 
 Quoniam autem odor florum, spirans in aere, (ubi un- 
 dulat more modulationis musicae,) gratior multo est, quam 
 si eos decerpas manu, ideo nihil magis confert, ad delecta¬ 
 tionem illam, quae ex odore florum percipitur, quam nosse 
 
352 
 
 DE HORTIS. 
 
 eos flores, et plantas, quae adhuc crescentes, nec avulsae, 
 maxime emittunt auras suaves, et aerem odore perfundunt. 
 Rosae tam pallidae, quam rubae, dum crescunt, odoris sui 
 sunt tenaces, nec aerem tingunt; adeo ut juxta sepem 
 earum ambulans, nihil odoris percipies, etiamsi hoc expe¬ 
 riaris tempore roris matutini. Laurus itidem, dum crescit, 
 odoris parum emittit: neque etiam ros-marinus, aut amar¬ 
 acus. Id, quod ante omnia, suavissimo odore aerum (cres¬ 
 cens) imbuit, est viola; praecipuae alba, flore multiplici; 
 quae bis quotannis floret; medio Aprilis, et sub finem 
 Augusti. Ei proxime accedit rosa moschata : tum folia 
 fragariae marcescentis, quae halitum emittunt plane cardi¬ 
 acum. Tum flores vitis, qui apparent in racemis noviter 
 protrusis, ad instar pulveris, qualis est in caule plantaginis. 
 Tum rubus odoratus. Tum parietaria lutea, quae gratissi¬ 
 mum edit odorem, sata juxta fenestras conclavis, aut cubi¬ 
 culi in imo solario siti: tum cariophyllatae, tam minores, 
 quam majores; tum flores tiliae: tum periclymeni flores, 
 eminus locati: tum flores lavendulae. De floribus fabae 
 non loquor, quoniam campestres sunt. At ea, quae aerem, 
 jucundissimo odore perfundunt, sed non nisi calcata, aut 
 contusa, sunt tria; pimpinella, serpillum, et mentha aqua¬ 
 tica. Itaque ambulacra integra his sunt conseranda, ut 
 odorem eorum calcando exprimas. 
 
 Horti contentum, (loquor autem de hortis regiis, sicut 
 feci de aedificiis,) haud minus triginta jugerum esse debet: 
 atque illud in tres partes dividi convenit: graminetum in 
 introitu; fruticetum sive eremum in exitu; et hortum prae¬ 
 cipuum in medio: praeter ambulacra utrinque ad latera. 
 Mihi quidem placet, quatuor jugera gramineto assignari; 
 sex fruticeto; bis quatuor ad ambulacra ad latera; et horto 
 praecipuo duodecim. Oblectamentum ex gramineto duplex 
 est: primum quidem oculis, quibus nihil jucundius est, 
 quam gramen subinde tonsum, et virescens: alterum, quo¬ 
 niam in medio orbita purganda e„st, qua iri possit versus 
 frontispicium sepis magnificae, quae hortum praecipuum 
 includat. At quoniam orbita ista longa erit, neque in 
 magnis ardoribus, anni, aut diei, umbra horti emenda est, 
 ambulatione per graminetum, exposito sole; ideo ambu¬ 
 lacra obtecta, duodecim pedes alta, ex opere lignario, 
 utrinque ad latera gramineti extruenda sunt, per quae hor¬ 
 tum introire possis, in umbra continua. Quantum autem 
 ad schemata, et figuras, ex varii coloris terra distinctas, 
 quae subjaceant fenestris aedificii, nugae plane sunt. Saepius 
 videas in placentis talia. Figura quadrata horto optime 
 
DE HORTrS. 
 
 353 
 
 convenit; quam undique sepi pulcherrima et arcuata 
 claudi oportet. Arcus extollantur supra columnas, ex 
 opere lignario, pedes decem alti, lati sex : spatia autem 
 inter columnas, .ejusdem dimensionis sint cum latitudine 
 arcus. Supra arcus sit sepes continuata, pedes quatuor 
 alta, ex opere itidem lignario; et hanc supra, sit turricula 
 in summitate arcus cujusque extructa, cujus interior capa¬ 
 citas sufficiat avicularum cavete excipiendae. Et supra 
 interstitia arcuum collocentur aliae aliquae figurae inauratae, 
 continentes lamellas vitri collorati, quibus varie ludant 
 radii solares. Hanc autem sepem intelligo, supra agge¬ 
 rem, haud praecipitem quidem, sed mediocriter declivem, 
 sex pedes altum, totum floribus consitum, erigendam esse. 
 Intelligo etiam, ut haec quadra horti, non totam soli lati¬ 
 tudinem occupet, sed satis spatii, variis ambulacris confi¬ 
 ciendis, utrinque ad latera relinquat; in quae, obtecta illa 
 gramineti ambulacra, de quibus diximus, deducant. Verum 
 ad introitum et exitum horti, hujusmodi ambulacra cum 
 sepibus, omnino omittenda sunt: in introitu quidem, ne 
 conspectum amoenae illius sepis, a gramineto impediat; in 
 exitu autem, ne prospectum fruticeti per arcus intercipiat. 
 
 Dispositionem soli, intra claustrum sepis, variandam ad 
 placitum relinquo: hoc interim monens, ut quaecunque ea 
 tandem sit; nimis curiosa et operosa ne sit. Imagines 
 excisas ex junipero, vel alia materia hortensi, non probo: 
 puerilia sunt ista. Humiles sepiculae rotundae, instar fim¬ 
 briarum, cum pyramidibus parvulis, placent. Columnas 
 etiam, et pyramides altas, ex opere lignario, in aliquibus 
 locis sparsas, sepibus vestitas, recipio. Ambulacra ampla 
 et spatiosa esse volo. Ambulacra angustiora et obtectiora 
 ad latera summovenda sunt, neutiquam vero in pomaerio 
 horti praecipui collocanda. Consulerem etiam, ut in medio 
 horti sit monticellus pulcher, cum tribus ascensus ordini¬ 
 bus, et tribus ambulacris, ejus latitudinis, ut quatuor una 
 ambulare possint. Et haec insuper ambulacra perfecte 
 circularia esse suadeo, absque figuris propugnaculorum. 
 Altitudo autem monticelli triginta pedum esto : atque in 
 vertice, domicellus elegans extruatur, cum caminis venuste 
 ordinatis, et absque multo vitro. 
 
 Fontes quod attinet, magno sunt illi ornamento, et re¬ 
 frigerio; sed stagna, et piscinae, exulent: hortum enim 
 insalubrem reddunt, et scatentem muscis, ranis, et simili¬ 
 bus. Fontes duorum generum intelligo; unum qui aquam 
 salientem verset, et dispergat, cum crateribus suis; alterum 
 nitidum aquae purae receptaculum, quadratum, pedum tri- 
 
 VOL. XV. A A 
 
354 
 
 DE HORTIS. 
 
 ginta vel quadraginta, illime, sine cceno, aut piscibus. 
 Quoad primum, imagines inauratae, aut marmoreae, quae in 
 usu sunt, ornamento esse recte possunt. Sed in eo genere, 
 cardo rei est, ita aquam regere, ut perpetuo fluat; nec 
 consistat, aut in cratere, aut in cisterna ; ita ut quiete non 
 sit decolor; versa aut in viridem, aut rubrum, aut hujus¬ 
 modi ; neque muscum colligat, aut putredinem. Etiam, 
 manu purganda est quotidie, ut maneat limpida. Itidem, 
 gradus aliqui ascensus ad fontem, et pavimentum circa 
 eum elegans, decori sunt. Illud alterum fontis genus, 
 quod balneum sive lavacrum dici potest, multum ornatus, 
 et curiositatis, recipere potest, quibus non immoramur. 
 Veluti: ut fundum sit imaginibus decoratum, latera 
 quoque; simul hinc inde vitro variorum colorum, et hujus¬ 
 modi corporibus politis, et radiantibus, splendens; circun- 
 datum etiam clausura humilium statuarum. Sed maxi¬ 
 mum est illud; cujus, in priore genere fontium, mentionem 
 fecimus; nimirum, ut aqua sit in perpetuo motu; aqua 
 scilicet, quae balneo superior sit, nutrita; per canales 
 venustos inducta; et rursus, per tubas subter terram 
 aequalis dimensionis, ne aqua diutius consistat, educta. 
 Verum quoad curiosas inventiones; arcuandi aquas sine 
 earum effusione; et eas effingendi in varias formas, (plu¬ 
 marum, poculorum vitreorum, canopaeorum, Campanarum, 
 et similium;) etiam rupes artificiosas, et hujusmodi, sunt 
 illa quidem spectatu jucunda, sed nihil ad salubritatem, 
 aut suavitatem. 
 
 Fruticetum autem, quod tertiam totius horti partem 
 posuimus, velim ut ad similitudinem naturalis deserti prope 
 accedat. Arbores in illo plantari nolo; nisi quod in 
 aliquibus locis, erigi praecipio arborum series, quae in ver¬ 
 tice ambulacra contineant, ramis arborum cooperta, cum 
 fenestris. Subjaceat autem pars soli floribus odoris suavis 
 abunde consita, qui auras in superius exhalent; alias fru¬ 
 ticetum apertum esse sine arboribus velim. Dumeta tamen 
 spargi placet, ex rubo odorato, peryclymeno, et vite syl- 
 vestri: terram autem ubique consitam volo, violis, fragis 
 praecipue, et primulis veris. Hae enim plantae jucundum 
 spirant odorem, et in umbra feliciter crescunt. Dumeta 
 autem, et ambulacra super arbores, spargi volumus ad 
 placitum, non ordine aliquo collocari. Probo etiam cu¬ 
 mulos parvos, instar eorum quos talpae erigunt, (quales in 
 ericetis campestribus esse solent,) alios serpillo, cariophyl- 
 latis minoribus alios, alios chamaedri quae florem praebet 
 pulchrum, alios pervinca, alios violis, fragis alios, floribus 
 
DE HORTIS. 
 
 355 
 
 paralysis alios, bellidibus alios, alios rosis rubris, alios 
 liliis convallium, alios armeriis rubris, alios helleboro flore 
 purpureo, et floribus similiis, suavibus, et bellis, consitos. 
 Pars etiam cumulorum habeat in vertice frutices; ese sint, 
 rosa; juniperus; aquifolia; oxyocantha; (sed haec rarior 
 propter odoris gravitatem dum floret;) ribesium baccis 
 rubris; uva crispa; rosmarinus; laurus; rubus odoratus; 
 et id genus aliae. Frutices autem ferro resecandae sunt, 
 ne deformiter excrescant. 
 
 Jam solum utrinque ad latera, in ambulacra privata, 
 pro quavis diei parte umbrosa, distribuendum est. Ex iis 
 etiam quaedam, a ventis asperioribus ita munienda sunt, 
 ut in iis spatiare possit quis, tanquam in porticu. Quine- 
 tiam, ob eandem causam, videlicet ut venti arceantur, ad 
 exitus claudenda sunt. Et haec clausa ambulacra, prae¬ 
 cipue sabulo substernenda sunt, absque gramine, ne in 
 udo ambulatio sit. In plerisque horum ambulacrorum, 
 arbores fructiferae omnigenae collocandae sunt, tam ad 
 parietes exteros, quam in ordinibus interius. Et hoc in 
 genere observari debet, ut terra elevata, in qua arbores 
 fructiferae plantantur, sit lata, humilis, et molliter ascen¬ 
 dens : et floribus suavibus consita, sed raris, ne succo 
 defraudent arbores. Ad exitus soli lateralis utrinque, 
 monticellos fieri probo, ad talem altitudinem parietis exte¬ 
 rioris, ut in monticello stanti, in agros pateat prospectus. 
 
 Rursus, quoad hortum praecipuum, non negarem, in eo 
 confici debere ambulacra quaedam, eaque minime angusta, 
 arboribus fructiferis utrinque consita. Quin et arboreta 
 aliqua, arborum fructiferarum prope consitarum; et um¬ 
 bracula artificiosa et bella cum sedibus ordine elegante 
 locata: verum haec, nullo modo, nimis confertim; relin¬ 
 quendus est enim hortus praecipuus apertior, et aere per¬ 
 flabilis, et liber. Umbram enim quaeras velim, in ambu¬ 
 lacris lateralibus, ubi in ardoribus anni, vel diei, ambules. 
 Hortus siquidem praecipuus, comparatus est in tempera¬ 
 tiores anni partes, vernas, et autumnales ; aestate autem, 
 ad matutina et vespertina tempora, aut etiam ad dies nu¬ 
 bilosos. 
 
 Aviaria non probo, nisi tantae sint amplitudinis, ut 
 cespites graminei substerni queant; fruticibus etiam et 
 arbusculis vivis conferantur; ut aves liberius volitent, et 
 se per diversa oblectare, et componere possint; utque nulla 
 in area avearii conspiciatur spurcities. 
 
 Quantum vero ad ambulacra in clivis, et variis ascen¬ 
 sibus amoenis conficienda, illa naturae dona sunt, nec 
 
35G 
 
 DE HORTIS. 
 
 ubique extrui possunt: nos autem ea posuimus, quae omni 
 loco conveniunt. 
 
 Horti itaque regii figuram jam delineavimus, partim 
 praeceptis, partim modulo generali, sed minime accurato. 
 Et hac in re sumptibus minime pepercimus. Sed ad 
 principes id nihil est, qui, ut nunc sit, plerunque hortu¬ 
 lanos consulunt; atque haud minore sumptu, varia, parum 
 cum judicio, componunt: addentes etiam quandoque sta¬ 
 tuas, et alia ad magnificentiam, et pompam ; sed ad genui¬ 
 nam hortorum voluptatem, et amoenitatem, nihil condu¬ 
 centia. 
 
 XLV. DE NEGOTIATIONE. 
 
 Generaliter, melius est, per verba negotiari, quam per 
 literas; et per intercessionem personae tertiae, quam per 
 seipsum. Literae utiles sunt, cum quis, per literas itidem, 
 responsum elicere desiderat; vel ubi sua intersit, exem¬ 
 plaria literarum, quas scripsit, producere, et monstrare : 
 denique, ubi metuere quis merito possit, ne sermo inter¬ 
 rumpatur, aut per portiones audiatur. Contra, viva voce 
 tractare praestat, cum facies hominis reverentiam incussura 
 sit; ut fit plerunque in colloquio cum inferiore: aut in 
 rebus, quas extremis tantum digitis tangere convenit; in 
 quibus oculus loquentis, in vultum et gestum alterius 
 intentus, monere possit, quousque procedere liceat; et 
 generaliter, quando libertatem quis sibi retinere cupit, vel 
 dedicendi, vel interpretandi ea quae dixerit. In tractando 
 per alios, cautius et melius fuerit, eos eligere, qui simpli¬ 
 cioris sunt ingenii; quos probabile est, illa, quae in man¬ 
 datis habent, executuros; et successum rei fideliter narra¬ 
 turos : quam eos, qui ex aliorum negotiis, aliquid in se 
 honoris aut utilitatis transferre, callidi sunt: atque ea, 
 quae referent, verbis emollient, ut impense placeant. Tales 
 etiam adhibe, qui negotio, cui praeficiuntur, faveant; id 
 enim industriam acuit: atque insuper tales, qui cum re 
 quam tractant congruitatem quandam habent; vel uti, 
 audaces ad expostulandum; blandos ad persuadendum ; 
 astutos ad observandum et rimandum ; protervos, et paulo 
 absurdiores, ad res, quae aliquid iniqui habent, transigen¬ 
 das. Tales etiam adhibe, qui in negotiis tuis antea trac¬ 
 tandis, felices fuerunt, et obtinuerunt; hoc enim confiden¬ 
 tiam parit; et omnem lapidem movebunt, quo veluti 
 praescriptionem tueantur. Melius fuerit, hominem cum 
 
DE NEGOTIATIONE. 
 
 357 
 
 quo negotiaris, primo leviter degustare, et quasi ex longin¬ 
 quo, quam ab initio summam rei proponere ; nisi forte in 
 animo sit; brevi illum aliqua quaestiuncula, irretire, et 
 opprimere. ' Pfsestat cum illis negotiari, qui in ambitu 
 sunt, quam cum illis, qui desideria sua sunt adepti. Si 
 cum alio sub conditione negotieris, prima veluti occupatio, 
 aut possessio votorum, in praecipuis numeranda: id autem 
 cum ratione postulare nequis, nisi aut natura rei talis sit 
 quae praecedere debeat; aut alteri commode insinuare 
 possis illum opera tua in aliis usurum; aut denique ha¬ 
 bearis ipse pro homine imprimis integro et verace. Omnis 
 negotiatio eo spectat; aut ut detegat aliquid; aut ut effi¬ 
 ciat. Detegunt se homines, vel animum suum communi¬ 
 cando ; vel cum ira commoti sunt, nec se bene cohibere 
 sciunt; vel cum ex improviso opprimuntur; vel cum 
 necessitate quadam adiguntur, non habentes quod prae¬ 
 texant. Si quem ad nutum fingere cupias, ut inde efficias 
 aliquid ; aut inclinationes et mores ejus bene cognoscendi, 
 ut eum manu ducas; aut fines ejus perspiciendi, ut sua¬ 
 deas ; aut infirmitates ejus, et ea quibus obnoxius est, 
 exploranda, ut terreas; aut denique amici ejus, qui pluri¬ 
 mum apud eum valent, conciliandi, ut eo modo regere 
 possis. In tractando cum callidis et dolosis, verbis eorum 
 minime credendum, nisi fines et intentiones eorum habeas 
 verborum interpretes: quin et optimum fuerit, pauca apud 
 illos loqui, et quae minime expectant. In rebus quibus¬ 
 cunque difficilioribus, non expectandum, ut quis simul, et 
 serat, et metat; sed praeparatione opus est, ut per gradus 
 maturescant. 
 
 XLVI. DE CLIENTIBUS, FAMULIS, ET AMICIS. 
 
 Clientes sumptuosi minime admittendi; ne dum quis 
 caudae pennas adauget, alarum pennas praescindat. Eos 
 autem sumptuosos intelligo, non solum qui impensis gra¬ 
 vant, sed etiam qui petitionibus molesti et importuni sunt. 
 Clientes communes, conditiones alias, expectare non de¬ 
 bent, extra favorem, commendationem si opus sit, et ab 
 injuria protectionem. Clientes autem et amici factiosi, 
 adhuc magis vitandi, qui alicui se applicant, non tam ex 
 amore ipsius cui famulantur; quam ex odio versus alium 
 concepto. Unde saepenumero sequitur animorum illa aba¬ 
 lienatio, quam videre est inter potentiores. Similiter, 
 clientes illi gloriosi, qui in hoc incumbunt, ut loco bucci- 
 
358 DE CLIENTIBUS, FAMULIS, ET AMICIS. 
 
 narum sint, ad laudes eorum resonandas, quibus famu¬ 
 lantur, haud parum nocent: etenim negotia futilitate sua 
 corrumpunt: tum vero honorem domini sui, (si quis vere 
 rem reputet,) exportant, et mercem invidiae invehunt. Est 
 et aliud genus clientum prorsus periculosum ; qui nil aliud 
 quam speculatores sunt, et secreta familiae rimantur, ac 
 rursus aliorum auribus insusurrant: attamen hujusmodi 
 homines, apud dominos suos, saepenumero in summo pretio 
 habentur ; siquidem officiosi sunt, et susurros fere commu¬ 
 tant. Clientelae hominum ordinis cujuspiam, si ejusdem 
 cum patrono ordinis sint, (veluti militum versus illum qui 
 praefecturam in bellis gessit, et hujusmodi,) semper pro re 
 decora habitum est, et in bonam partem acceptum, etiam 
 in monarchiis; modo absit pompa nimia, et popularitas. 
 Verum clientela, omnium maxime honorifica, ea est; ut 
 quis patronum se profiteatur, eorum qui virtute et meritis 
 clarent, cujuscunque ordinis sint, vel conditionis. Attamen 
 ubi nulla insignis cernitur in meritis dissimilitudo, praestat 
 mediocribus patrocinari, quam eminentioribus. Atque 
 insuper, si verum omnino dicendum sit, in seculis aliquanto 
 corruptioribus, homines industrii et satagentes, usui magis 
 sunt, quam vera virtute praediti. Certe, in imperando, 
 optimum est, ejusdem gradus subditos, pari comitate trac¬ 
 tare : paucos enim immensa gratia prosequi, ipsos magis 
 insolentes, reliquos malevolos efficiet; quandoquidem or¬ 
 dinis paritas aequas gratiae conditiones, tanquam ex debito, 
 poscit. Verum econtra, in iis, quae favoris meri sunt, 
 prodest cum delectu afficere; nam eos, qui benignius trac¬ 
 tantur, impense gratos reddet, caeteros imprimis officiosos : 
 neque de hoc merito conqueratur quispiam, cum omnia 
 ex gratia, non ex debito prodeant. Recte cavetur, ne sub 
 initiis immoderatius aliquem favore prosequaris ; nam quae 
 tractu temporis sequentur, vix istis initiis respondere pos¬ 
 sunt. Fingi, (quod aiunt,) et regi, ab amico aliquo, tutum 
 non est: etenim mollitiem quandam animi prodit; tum 
 vero convitiis et scandalo occasionem praebet: plurimi 
 enim, qui nos ipsos immediate non perstrinxissent, ami¬ 
 cum illum nostrum contumeliis afficere non verebuntur; 
 atque eo modo honorem nostrum vulnerabunt. Attamen, 
 plurium potestati subjici, et veluti in partes distrahi, adhuc 
 pejus ; hoc enim nos reddet, postremae (ut nunc loquuntur,) 
 editionis, et plenos inconstantiae. Deliberare cum amicis 
 aliquot paucis, honorabile sane et utile: “ Spectatores 
 enim saepenumero plus vident, quam Lusores: ” atque, (ut 
 adagio dicitur,.) “ Vallis optime collem monstrat.” Ami- 
 
DE CLIENTIBUS, FAMULIS, ET AMICIS. 
 
 359 
 
 citia vera, in orbe, rara admodum; et minime omnium ea 
 quae inter aequales; quod genus apud veteres celebrari 
 solebat. Si qua est, ea reperietur inter superiorem et 
 inferiorem; fortunae quorum, altera alteram, comprehen¬ 
 dere possint. 
 
 XLVII. DE SUPPLICANTIBUS. 
 
 Suscipiuntur complura negotia et inventa mala; et peti¬ 
 tiones privatae bonum corrumpunt publicum. Suscipiuntur 
 etiam complura negotia in se bona, sed animo non bono: 
 intelligo, non solum corrupto, sed etiam callido; absque 
 ulla perficiendi negotii intentione. Non desunt, qui peti¬ 
 tiones in manus suas recipiunt, et operam avide pollicentur, 
 quibus tamen ut cum effectu procedant, curae non est: 
 verum si animadvertant, rem aliorum conatu successuram, 
 ipsi quoque gratiam aucupabuntur; aut certe mercedem 
 aliquam secundariam captabunt; aut denique supplicantis 
 spes dum negotium vertitur, in usum proprium convertent. 
 Alii petitiones amplectuntur, eo solum animo, ut negotiis 
 aliorum, quae simul tractantur, impedimenta injiciant: 
 vel ut aliquid obiter deferant et informent, cujus alias 
 praetextum idoneum parare non potuerint; de petitione 
 ipsa, cum sibi hoc modo consuluerint, nihil solliciti: vel 
 generaliter, ut per aliorum negotia, negotiis suis pontem 
 sternant. Imo et alii tam mala fide agunt, ut petitiones 
 suscipiant consilio deliberato eas destituendi, quo com¬ 
 petitori, aut adversario gratificentur. 
 
 Certe si quis rem rite perpendat, comitatur omnem 
 petitionem, jus quoddam; vel aequitatis, si sit petitio 
 justitiae ; vel meriti, si sit petitio gratiae. Si quem moveat 
 inclinatio propria, ut parti iniquiori faveat, in causa ju¬ 
 diciali, utatur potius auctoritate sua, ut rem componat, 
 quam ut obtineat. Si quem moveat inclinatio propria, 
 ut favore suo minus merentem impertiat, in causa gratiae, 
 abstineat saltem ab omni calumnia, et maledicentia, in 
 melius merentem. Petitiones, quas ipse non satis intel- 
 ligis, amico alicui fido et sagaci demanda; qui referat, an 
 ejusmodi sint, quas salvo honore promovere possis; verum 
 prudenti et anxio judicio amicus ille deligendus; alias 
 quidlibet tibi imponet. Supplicantes, his temporibus, adeo 
 mora, et procrastinationibus, cruciantur, ut veracitas et 
 candor; vel in negotium primitus recusando; vel in suc¬ 
 cessum ejus qualem-qualem animo simplici referendo; 
 
360 
 
 DE SUPPLICANTIBUS. 
 
 vel in gratiam non ultra quam par est captando; res facta 
 sit, non solum laudabilis, verumetiam gratiosa. In peti¬ 
 tionibus gratiae, prima petitionis oblatio, nullius debet esse 
 momenti; eo usque supplicantis fides, in re illa patefa¬ 
 cienda, valere possit, ut si notitia ejus, aliunde quam per 
 eum haberi non potuisset; hoc ei fraudi non sit; sed 
 potius remuneretur. Valorem ejus, quod petitur, ignorare, 
 imperitia quaedam est; non secus ac aequitatem ejusdem 
 oscitanter praetervehi, malam arguit conscientiam. Peti¬ 
 tiones sedulo occultare, non modicum prodest ad obti¬ 
 nendum; spes enim jactare, competitorum licet alios 
 deterrere possit, alios tamen acuet, et excitabit. Verum 
 temporum opportunitates, ante omnia, in petitionibus 
 valent. Temporum inquam, non tantum respectu eorum 
 in quorum potestate positum est, petitiones vel rejicere, 
 vel concedere; verumetiam respectu eorum, a quibus juste 
 metuendum, ne se illis opponant. In delectu ejus, cui 
 petitionis tuae curam demandes, respicias magis aptitu- 
 dinem, quam amplitudinem; atque eum potius adhibe, 
 qui paucioribus negotiis se immiscet, quam qui omnia 
 amplectitur. Denegatae petitionis iteratio concessioni ipsi 
 quandoque aequipollet; modo quis se, nec animo dejectum, 
 nec male affectum, ostendat; Iniquum petas, ut aequum 
 feras; regula non mala, ubi quis gratia floreat; alias enim, 
 consultius foret, gradibus quibusdam, ad id quod petis, 
 ascendere, et aliquid saltem impetrare : qui enim, in prin¬ 
 cipio, supplicantis erga se studium, amittere non dubi- 
 tasset; is, in line, et studium supplicantis, et beneficium 
 prius collatum, simul amittere non sustinebit. Nihil tam 
 leve videtur, quam viros praepotentes, de literis suis inter¬ 
 pellare ; cum tamen, si literae illae, in causis minus honestis, 
 et justis volitent, tantum de existimatione scribentis de¬ 
 pereat. Non invenitur in rebuspublicis perniciosius homi¬ 
 num genus, quam generales isti petitionum concinnatores; 
 etenim pestes plane sunt, et lues, negotiorum publicorum. 
 
 XLVI1I. DE STUDIIS, ET LECTIONE LIBRORUM. 
 
 Studia, et lectiones librorum, aut meditationum voluptati, 
 aut orationis ornamento, aut negotiorum subsidio, inser¬ 
 viunt. Usus eorum, quatenus ad voluptatem, in secessu 
 et otio imprimis percipitur: quatenus ad orationis orna¬ 
 menta, in sermone tam familiari, quam solenni, locum 
 habet; quatenus vero ad negotiorum subsidium, huc 
 
361 
 
 DE STUDIIS, ET LECTIONE LIBRORUM. 
 
 spectat; ut accuratiore judicio, res et suscipiantur et dis¬ 
 ponantur. Etenim, homines, rerum gerendarum gnari, ad 
 negotia exequenda, idonei fortasse sunt; et in specialibus, 
 judicio non malo utuntur : verum consilia de summis 
 rerum, eorumque inventio et administratio recta, felicius a 
 literatis promanant. Temporis nimium in lectione et studiis 
 terere, speciosa quaedam socordia est; iisdem ad ornatum 
 mollius abuti, allectatio mera est, quae seipsam prodit; de 
 rebus autem, ex regulis artis judicare, scholam omnino 
 sapit, nec bene succedit. Naturam literae perficiunt, ab 
 experientia autem ipsae perficiuntur. Dotes enim naturales, 
 instar plantarum sunt, sponte provenientium, quae culturam 
 et falcem artis desiderant: literae, e contra, generalia nimis 
 praecipiunt, nisi ab experientia determinentur. Callidi 
 literas contemnunt; simplices admirantur; prudentes, 
 opera earum, quantum par est, utuntur: neque enim literae 
 verum sui usum satis edocent; sed haec res, prudentia 
 quaedam est, extra eas, et supra eas sita, observatione 
 tantum comparata. Libros non legas animo contradicendi, 
 et disputationum praeliis concertandi; neque rursus omnia 
 pro concessis accipiendi, aut in verba auctoris jurandi; 
 neque denique in sermonibus te venditandi; sed ut ad¬ 
 discas, ponderes, et judicio tuo aliquatenus utaris. Sunt 
 libri, quos leviter tantum degustare convenit; sunt quos 
 deglutire, cursimque legere oportet; sunt denique, sed 
 pauci admodum, quos ruminare et digerere par est: hoc 
 est; libri quidam, per partes tantum inspiciendi; alii per¬ 
 legendi quidem, sed non multum temporis, in iisdem 
 evolvendis, insumendum; alii autem pauci diligenter evol¬ 
 vendi, et adhibita attentione singulari. Invenies etiam 
 libros haud paucos, quos per alios, et vicaria opera, legere 
 sufficiat, eorumque compendia tantum desumere; verum 
 hoc fieri nolim, praeterquam in argumentis humilioribus, 
 et auctoribus minoris pretii: alias enim, libi (ut sic dicam) 
 distillati, instar aquarum distillatarum, quas vulgo mer¬ 
 cantur, erunt penitus insipidi. Lectio copiosum reddit, et 
 bene instructum ; disputationes et colloquia promptum et 
 facilem; scriptio autem, et notarum collectio, perlecta in 
 animo imprimit, et altius figit. Itaque si quis in notando, 
 segnis sit, aut fastidiosus, memoria illi opus est bona; 
 si colloquiis se non exerceat, requiritur ei ingenium 
 promptum; sin in legendo parcus sit, hoc solum relin¬ 
 quitur, ut artificio quopiam utatur, quo videatur ea 
 scire, quae nescit. Historiarum lectio prudentes efficit; 
 poetarum, ingeniosos; artes mathematicae subtilitatem 
 
362 DE STUDIIS, ET LECTIONE LIBRORUM. 
 
 donant; naturalis philosophia judicium profundum parit; 
 moralis gravitatem quandam morum conciliat; dialectica 
 et rhetorica pugnacem reddunt, et ad contentiones alacrem; 
 “ Abeunt (ut ait ille,) studia in mores.” Quin et vix 
 occurrit, in intellectu, impedimentum aliquod insitum, aut 
 naturale, quod non studio quopiam idoneo, emendari et 
 edolari possit: quemadmodum morbi corporis, exercitiis 
 quibusdam propriis, levari possint. Globulorum lusus 
 calculo et renibus salubris; sagittatio pulmonibus et 
 thoraci; lenis deambulatio ventriculo; equitatio capiti, et 
 similia. Eodem modo, si cui sit ingenium vagum et 
 volucre, mathematicis incumbat; in demonstrationibus 
 enim mathematicis, si mens vel minimum aberret, de novo 
 incipiendum est: si cuipiam ingenium sit minus aptum, 
 ad rerum differentias et distinctiones eruendas, ad scho¬ 
 lasticos se conferat: illi enim cymini sectores sunt; si quis 
 ad transcursus ingenii segnis sit, nec alia in aliorum 
 probationem, et illustrationem, accersere, et arripere dextre, 
 noverit, jure-consultorum casus evolvat: adeo ut singuli 
 intellectus morbi, ex literis, medicinas proprias comparare 
 sibi possint. 
 
 XL1X. DE FACTIONIBUS. 
 
 Plurimi opinionem minime sanam foverunt; hanc nimi¬ 
 rum ; principi, in status sui administratione, et viro magno, 
 in actionum suarum directione, ad factiones, quae invalu¬ 
 erunt, praecipue respiciendum; atque hanc principalem 
 prudentiae partem esse: cum e contra, facultas haec pru¬ 
 dentiae, quam maxime vigeat, vel in disponendis rebus, 
 quae ad omnes sine discrimine pertinent, et in quibus 
 homines diversarum factionum coeunt; vel in palpandis, 
 conciliandis, et tractandis singulis. Neque tamen assero, 
 factionum debitam considerationem, esse negligendam. 
 Humilioris fortunae viri, cum in ambitu sint, alicui parti 
 adhaerere debent; verum potentioribus, et jampridem ho¬ 
 norem adeptis, consultius est, aequos se praestare, in neutram 
 partem propendendo. Quin, et in ambientibus, ita caute 
 adhaerere, ut videatur quis alteri ex partibus addictus, et 
 tamen parti adversae minime odiosus, viam quandam sternit 
 ad honores, per medium factionum. Factio inferior, et 
 debilior, in conjunctione, plerunque firmior, et constantior: 
 et non raro observari poterit, paucos qui obstinati et perti¬ 
 naces sint, factionem numerosiorem, sed tamen moderatam, 
 in fine defatigare, et depellere. Factionum altera post- 
 
DE FACTIONIBUS. 
 
 363 
 
 quam extincta fuerit, illa quae manet, in factiones novas 
 disrumpitur; veluti, factio Luculli, et optimatum, ad tem¬ 
 pus aliquod, se in satis magno vigore, contra factionem 
 Pompeii et Caesaris, sustinuit; verum postquam auctoritas 
 senatus, et optimatum, deprimebatur; factio ipsius Caesaris 
 et Pompeii, in partes propediem scissa est. Similiter, 
 Factio Antonii, et Octaviani Caesaris, contra Brutum et 
 Cassium, ad tempus aliquod duravit; sed deletis copiis 
 Bruti et Cassii, Antonius et Octavianus, cum partibus 
 suis, paulo post dissilierunt. Exempla haec (dices) ad 
 factiones bellicosas spectant, sed idem in factionibus pri¬ 
 vatis tenet. Itaque, in factionibus qui secundas antea 
 tenebant, factione scissa, saepius primas tenent: contra 
 tamen, haud raro, potestate omni excidunt: complures 
 enim in oppositione tantum valent; qua cessante, actutum 
 deveniunt inutiles. Observatu dignum, quod saepe evenit; 
 plurimos nimirum, postquam voti compotes sint, et in dig¬ 
 nitate quam ambierunt collocati; continuo se applicare 
 contrariae factioni; existimantes forsitan, se de alterius 
 factionis affectu et studiis, jamdudum certos esse; itaque 
 ad amicos novos conciliandos se comparare. Proditor in 
 factionibus plerunque rem obtinet; postquam enim, res 
 diutius, tanquam in aequilibrio, suspensae haesissent, tum 
 demum unius alicujus in partes contrarias transitio, vic¬ 
 toriam refert; in eumque gratiae omnes cumulatae. Indif¬ 
 ferens illa inter partes processio, neutri inclinando, non 
 semper ab animo moderato procedit; sed a consilio callido, 
 quandoquidem proximus sibi quisque sit, atque ex utraque 
 factione utilitatem demetere speret. Certe in Italia, in 
 suspicionem incurrit papa, de quo vox illa, in vulgus 
 volitat; “ Padre commune.” Tum etiam in signum tra¬ 
 hitur, papam illum, omnia ad familiae suae amplitudinem 
 referre, in animo habere. Regibus imprimis cavendum 
 est, ne factioni alicui subditorum suorum, se ex professo 
 adjungant: ligae enim confoederationis, intra statum quem¬ 
 piam, monarchiis semper exitiales : siquidem obligationem 
 introducunt obligatione ipsa imperii validiorem, atque 
 regem constituunt; tanquam unum ex nobis: id quod 
 cernere erat in liga Franciae. Cum factiones, manu forti, 
 et palam, concertant, signum est imperii in regibus labas¬ 
 centis; multumque praejudicat, ipsorum et auctoritati, et 
 negotiis. Motus factionum, sub regibus, similes esse 
 debent, motibus, (ut astronomi loquuntur,) orbium infe¬ 
 riorum; qui suos habent motus proprios, sed interim, 
 conversione primi mobilis, cum obsequio, circumferuntur. 
 
364 
 
 L. DE CEREMONIIS CIVILIBUS, ET DECORO. 
 
 Qui realis solummodo est, ei multa virtute opus duco; 
 sicut gemma, quae sine ornamento omni inseritur, e puris¬ 
 simis et nitidissimus esse debet. Verum, si quis diligenter 
 animadvertat, fit in laude, quod fit in lucro: obtinet enim 
 proverbium illud ; “ Lucra levia crumenam efficere gravem.” 
 Siquidem, lucra levia frequenter redeunt, cum majora 
 rarius se offerant. Similiter, verissimum est, virtutes 
 exiguas magnas conciliare laudes, quia perpetuus earum 
 usus est; tum in observationem hominum incurrunt: cum 
 e contra, virtutis alicujus magnae exercendae occasio, raro 
 admodum obtingit. Itaque ad famam et existimationem 
 alicuj us multum juvat, et, (quemadmodum Isabella, Regina 
 Castiliana dicere solebat,) “ instar epistolarum commenda- 
 titiarum, quae nunquam non praesto sint,” haberi possit; 
 si quis formulis utetur discretis et decoris. Ad has addis¬ 
 cendas, nihil ferme aliud requiritur, quam ut eas quis non 
 contemnat: ita enim in aliorum moribus easdem obser¬ 
 vabit; de reliquo autem nemo sibi diffidat. Si enim 
 majorem illis operam navabit, de pretio decident: quod in 
 illo potissimum situm est, ut tanquam nativae videantur, et 
 minime affectatae. Nonnullorum vultus, et gestus, et 
 externa alia, instar versus sunt, in quibus syllabae singulae 
 mensurantur; qui poterit magna comprehendere, qui se 
 tam pusillis rebus submittit? Caeremoniis decentibus, 
 erga alios, omnino abstinere, perinde est ac si doceas, 
 easdem illos erga te negligere; quo pacto teipsum facies 
 viliorem. Praecipue, nequaquam omittendae erga illos, 
 quibuscum familiaritate minime conjunctus es: neque erga 
 homines ingenio fastidioso. Verum, excessus in illis, et 
 locutio plane hyperbolica, (quali nonnulli utuntur,) non 
 solum res molesta, sed etiam fidem et pondus, eorum quae 
 dicuntur, omnino minuit. Est proculdubio modus, arti¬ 
 ficiosae cujusdam insinuationis, in verbis ipsis, inter for¬ 
 mulas communes, qui homines revera inescat, et mirifice 
 afficit; qui eximie alicui prodest, si quis ejus viam calleat. 
 Inter aequales, de familiaritate sollicitum esse, nihil opus 
 est; quare reprime te paululum, et dignitatem tuam tuere: 
 at inter inferiores non deerit reverentia; itaque inter illos, 
 benigne te gerere, et cum familiaritate quadam, non incon- 
 gruum est. Qui in sermone aliquo, aut re, nimius est, 
 adeo ut satietatem inducat, valorem sui ipsius minuit. 
 Aliis se applicare, bonum est; modo cum significatione 
 
DE CAEREMONIIS CIVILIBUS, ET DECORO. 365 
 
 quadam fiat, hoc non ex facilitate prodire, sed ex comitate 
 et urbanitate. Praeceptum non contemnendum est; cum 
 in alterius sententiam iveris, aliquid semper de proprio 
 addere: exempli gratia; Opinioni ejus suffragaris? cum 
 distinctione, et non alias, fiat: propositioni ejus annuere 
 libet? Fiat sub modo aliquo vel conditione: consilium 
 ejus sequi et amplecti visum est? Novi alicujus argu¬ 
 menti pondus addas, propter quod in partes ejus transire 
 videaris. Cavendum imprimis, ne magister in caeremoniis 
 et formulis, habearis: id enim si fiet, utcunque virtute 
 vera emineas, audies tamen ab invidis, in nominis tui 
 detrimentum, urbanus tantum et affectator. Etiam negotiis 
 damnosum est, si quis formulas nimium affectet; vel in 
 opportunitatibus et temporibus deligendis, impense curiosus 
 sit. Solomon inquit; “ Qui observat ventum, non semi¬ 
 nat ; et qui considerat nubes, nunquam metet;” prudens 
 opportunitates plures faciet, quam inveniet. Mores homi¬ 
 num externi, vestibus eorem similes esse debent; non sint 
 nimis concinni, nec corpus coarctantes; sed qui libertatem 
 praebeant, ad exercitia, et motum quemlibet. 
 
 LI. DE LAUDE. 
 
 Laus virtutis reflexio est. Atque, ut fit in speculis, trahit 
 aliquid e natura corporis, quod reflexionem praebet. Si a 
 vulgo proficiscitur, ut plurimum, reflexio illa prava est, et 
 falsa; et vanos potius ac tumidos, quam vera virtute 
 praeditos, comitatur. Sub captum siquidem vulgi, virtutes 
 complures, quae excellunt, non cadunt. Virtutes minores, 
 ab iis, laudes extorquent; mediae, admirationem quandam 
 vel stuporem, illis incutiunt; sublimes autem, in sensum 
 aut perceptionem eorum, prorsus non veniunt. Sed appa¬ 
 ritiones virtutum, et species virtutibus similes; illos afficiunt 
 quam maxime. Sane, fama fluvio similis est, quae levia et 
 inflata attollit, gravia et solida mergit. Quod si viri etiam 
 judicii profundioris, et dignitatis, cum vulgo concurrunt, 
 tum id, quod scriptura dicit, contingit; “ Nomen bonum 
 instar unguenti fragrantis.” Omnia undique replet, neque 
 facile evanescit. Etenim odores unguentorum, durabiles 
 magis sunt, quam florum. Laudum tot conditiones fallaces 
 sunt, ut laus merito in suspicionem venire possit. Laudes 
 quaedam ab adulatione sola prodeunt; quod si adulator sit 
 vulgaris, attributis quibusdam utetur communibus, et quae 
 omnibus competere possint; non quaesitis aut appositis; 
 
366 
 
 DE LAUDE. 
 
 adulator callidior si sit, vestigia premet adulatoris princi¬ 
 palis ; intelligo, tui ipsius; et in quibus tibi places, aut 
 teipsum excellere putas, iis adulator inhaerebit maxime: 
 sin adulator sit impudens, et perfrictae frontis, tum demum, 
 in quibus conscius tibi sis defectus tui, et ad quae maxime 
 erubescis, ea adulator tibi vel praecipue imputabit, et 
 affiget, per vim, spreta conscientia. Laudes nonnullae, a 
 voluntate bona cum reverentia conjuncta, proficiscuntur; 
 quae sane laudum formula, principibus, et viris qui¬ 
 buscunque dignioribus, debetur; Laudando praecipere: 
 cum scilicet apud illos praedicando, quales sint, humiliter 
 moneas, quales esse debeant. Sunt qui laudibus quan¬ 
 doque onerantur, animo malitioso; ad conflandam invidiam, 
 et odia concitanda, “ pessimum genus inimicorum laudan¬ 
 tium ;” ut ait ille: adeo ut apud Graecos, in proverbium 
 exierit: “ Ei, qui in malum suum laudaretur, pustulam 
 nari continuo adnaturam:” sicut apud nos vulgo dicitur; 
 “ Cum quis mentiatur, metuendum ne ejus linguae, scabies 
 propediem oboriatur. Illud asserere licet, laudes mode¬ 
 ratas, tempestive irrogatas, et minime vulgares, honori vel 
 maxime esse. Dictum est Solomonis; “ Qui benedicit 
 proximo suo voce grandi, de nocte consurgens, maledicenti 
 similis erit;” etenim, vel hominem, vel rem aliquam, ad 
 coelum usque evehere, contradictionem irritat, et derisui 
 exponit. Veruntamen, ut seipsum laudare, servato decoro, 
 vix conceditur, nisi in casibus admodum raris; ita voca¬ 
 tionem suam, et munus quod gerit, aut studia quibus se 
 addixit, laudare quis cum venia possit, imo cum specie 
 quadam magnanimitatis. Cardinales Romani, (qui theologi 
 sunt; et fratres et scholastici,) verbum usurpant, extremi 
 contemptus et convitii, erga negotia civilia: vocant enim 
 negotia civilia, (veluti, belli, legationum, judiciorum, et 
 hujusmodi,) Hispanico vocabulo, u Sbirrarias;” quod sonat, 
 munera lictorum et scribarum. Ac si artes illse memoratae, 
 magis ejusmodi homines, quam in fastigio cardinalatus 
 positos, decerent: et tamen, (si res rite ponderetur,) specu¬ 
 lativa cum civilibus non male miscentur. Sanctus Paulus, 
 cum de seipso gloriatur, illud nonnunquam interponit; 
 “ Ut stultus loquor,” at cum de vocatione sua verba facit, 
 nihil veretur dicere ; “ Magnificabo apostolatum meum.” 
 
3G7 
 
 LII. DE VANA GLORIA. 
 
 Eleganter quidem AEsopus: “ Musca sedens super 
 radium rotae currus, ita secum; quantum pulverem moveo ? ” 
 Similiter, existunt quidam futiles et vani, qui, cum aliquid 
 vel sponte procedit, vel manu potentiore cietur, si modo 
 ipsi vel minimam rei partem attigerint, continuo putant se 
 machinam totam vertere. Gloriosi semper factiosi; etenim 
 nulla ostentatio sine comparatione sui est. Quin et vio¬ 
 lenti ut sint, necesse est, ut quae verbis jactitarunt, revera 
 praestent. Neque taciturni omnino esse possunt; ideoque 
 opere, ut plurimum, destituuntur; sicut Gallis in prover¬ 
 bium abiit; “ Beaucoup de bruit, peu de fruit Strepitus 
 multum, fructus parum. Attamen, sine controversia, 
 hujusmodi ingeniis, in civilibus, aliquando uti prodest. Si 
 fama excitanda sit, vel opinio late spargenda, sive virtutis, 
 sive potentiae, istiusmodi homines buccinatores egregii sunt. 
 Rursus, sicut prudenter notat Livius, circa tractatus An¬ 
 tiochi et iEtolorum; “ Mendacia reciproca, et ex utraque 
 parte, quandoque magno usui esse possunt; ” veluti, cum 
 quis inter principes duos negotietur, ut eos ad bellum 
 indicendum, principi tertio concitet; atque hoc ut efficiat, 
 unius copias apud alterum, supra modum, et veritatem, 
 vicissim attollat. Quin et hoc fit quandoque, ut qui inter 
 privatos tractet, apud utrunque existimationem suam au¬ 
 geat, artificiose insinuando, se apud alterutrum plus posse, 
 quam revera potest. Atque in his, et hujusmodi haud 
 raro accidit, ut aliquid ex nihilo producatur: mendacia 
 enim opinionem ingenerare sufficiunt; opinio autem rem 
 et substantiam progignit. In ducibus, et viris militaribus, 
 gloriosum esse, non inutile est; sicut enim ferrum acuit 
 ferrum, ita per gloriam hanc animi invicem acuuntur, et 
 excitantur. Insuper, in actionibus magnis, quse sumpti¬ 
 bus, et periculo privatorum, suscipiuntur, ingenia jacta¬ 
 bunda vivacius negotia impellunt: qui enim ingenio sobrio 
 sunt, et solido, plus habent saburra, quam veli. Rursus, 
 in existimatione doctrinae et literarum cujuspiam, non 
 volitabit fama illius per ora virum, neque bene alata erit, 
 sine plumis aliquibus ostentationis. “Qui de contemnenda 
 gloria libros scribunt, nomen suum inscribunt; ” inquit 
 ille Socrates, Aristoteles, Galenus, (magna nomina,) ingenio 
 jactabundo erant. Certe gloria vana, ad propagandam et 
 perpetuandam memoriam magnopere juvat: neque virtus 
 
368 
 
 DE VANA GLORIA. 
 
 ipsa, tantum humanae naturae debet, propter nominis sui 
 celebrationem, quantum sibi ipsi. Fama siquidem Cice¬ 
 ronis, Senecae, Plinii Secundi, ad hunc usque diem vix 
 durasset, aut saltem non tam vegeta, nisi conjuncta fuisset, 
 cum aliqua vanitate et jactantia, in seipsis. Jactantia 
 enim, instar vernicis videtur esse, quae ligna non solum 
 splendere facit, verum etiam durare. Atqui, dum haec de 
 vana gloria dissero, minime eam qualitatem intelligo, quam 
 attribuit Tacitus Muciano: “ Omnium, quae dixerat, fece- 
 ratque, arte quadam ostentator: ” haec enim ex vanitate 
 neutiquam procedit, sed ex arte, et prudentia, cum mag¬ 
 nanimitate quadam conjuncta: et in aliquibus hominibus, 
 qui natura veluti comparati ad eam sunt, res est, non 
 solum decora, sed et gratiosa. Excusationes enim decorae, 
 concessiones tempestivae, quin et modestia ipsa bene tem¬ 
 perata, nihil aliud sunt, quam ostentationis artes. Neque 
 inter artes hasce, reperitur aliqua felicio-u" quam illa, de 
 qua loquitur Plinius Secundus, hoc est; Imeraliter et co¬ 
 piose id in aliis laudare, in quo ipse emineas. Nam ad 
 hunc modum ille, ingeniose satis : “ In alio laudando, tibi 
 ipsi ministras: is enim, quem laudas, aut superior tibi est, 
 aut inferior; si inferior, et tamen laudandus, tu multo 
 magis; si superior, neque jure laudandus, tu multo minus.” 
 Gloriosi prudentibus derisui sunt; stultis admirationi; 
 parasitis preedse et escse; sibi ipsis, et gloriae vanae, man¬ 
 cipia. 
 
 LIII. DE HONORE ET EXISTIMATIONE. 
 
 Honoris et existimationis, vera, et jure optimo, acquisitio, 
 ea est; ut quis virtutes, et facultates suas, dextre, et 
 absque detrimento, revelet. Nonnulli enim, in actionibus 
 suis, proci famae sunt, et veluti venatores : quod genus 
 hominum, sermonibus plerunque celebratur, sed interiorem 
 animi reverentiam vix assequitur. Alii, contra, virtutem 
 suam, inter monstrandum, obscurant; ex quo fit, ut o*pi- 
 nione minores sint, quam merita ipsorum postulant. Si 
 quis rem suscipiat, simulque perficiat, quae prius intentata 
 fuerat; aut tentata quidem, sed deserta; aut ad exitum 
 forsan perducta, sed minus commode, et feliciter; is hono¬ 
 rem adipiscetur majorem, quam si quid perfecisset gravioris 
 sane difficultatis, et momenti; sed in quo, alterius tantum 
 vestigia, et non ultra, premeret. Si quis actiones suas, ita 
 inter se committat, et contemperet, ut in aliquibus earum, 
 
DE HONORE ET EXISTIMATIONE. 
 
 369 
 
 singulis factionibus, vel populi combinationibus, satisfaciat, 
 harmonia erit tanto perfectior. Honoris sui minime fru¬ 
 galis dispensator est, qui rem quamvis suscipit, in qua 
 dedecoris plus fuerit, votis excidere, quam obtinuisse, 
 honoris. Honor, qui comparativus est, et alium praegravat, 
 reflexionem habet maxime vividam ; instar adamantis, aut 
 carbunculi, cum angulis multiplicibus secti. Itaque, enixe 
 hoc agas, ut competitores tuos, si modo possis, etiam in iis, 
 in quibus ipsi summe gloriantur, superes. Servi, et amici 
 familiares, prudentes modo sint et cauti, existimationi 
 cujuspiam, non modicum prosunt: ita Quint. Cicero: 
 “ Omnis fama a domesticis emanat.'” Invidia, quae hono¬ 
 ris veluti tinea et teredo est, optime extinguitur, si quis id 
 sibi praestituere videatur, ut meritum potius ambiat, quam 
 famam : et successus suos prosperos, magis providentiae 
 divinae, et felic «,ati cuidam tribuat, quam artibus aut virtu¬ 
 tibus propriis. 
 
 Gradus, honoris imperialis, sic vere et optime ordinan¬ 
 tur. Primo loco statuendi, conditores imperiorum ; quales 
 fuerunt Romulus, Cyrus, Julius Caesar, Ottomannus, Is¬ 
 mael. Secundo loco, legum-latores; qui etiam vocabantur 
 conditores secundi, aut perpetui principes ; quoniam legi¬ 
 bus suis, etiam post mortem, imperia administrant; quales 
 fuerunt Lycurgus, Solon, Justinianus, Eadgarus, Alphonsus 
 Castilianus, cognomine sapiens, qui septem partitiones 
 edidit. Tertio loco, liberatores, vel servatores patriarum 
 suarum; qui bellis intestinis diutinis finem imposuerunt, 
 aut patrias, a servitute alienigenarum, vel tyrannorum 
 liberarunt: veluti, Augustus Caesar, Vespasianus, Aurelia?- 
 nus, Theodoricus, Henricus Septimus rex Angliae, Henricus 
 Quartus rex Galliae. Quarto loco, propagatores, sive pro¬ 
 pugnatores imperii; qui bellis honorificis fines imperii pro¬ 
 tulerunt; vel defensione strenua et nobili, invasoribus res¬ 
 titerunt, Ultimo loco, patres patriae ; qui juste imperant, 
 et temporibus felicibus, quamdiu vivunt, cives suos beant. 
 In his ultimis duobus, exempla non adduco, quandoquidem 
 tanto numero sint. Honorum, qui subditis competere pos¬ 
 sunt, gradus hi sunt. Primo statuendi participes curarum ; 
 ii nimirum, quorum humeris, praecipuum pondus, rerum 
 suarum, principes imponunt: vulgo appellamus manus 
 regum dexteras. Secundo, duces belli; regum suorum 
 intelligo locum-tenentes ; qui operam eis egregiam in bellis 
 praestant. Tertio, gratiosi ; eos volo, qui non ultra hoc 
 potes sunt, quam ut principibus solatio sint, et populo 
 innoxii. Quarto, negotiis pares ; qui magnos sub princi- 
 
 vol. xv. B B 
 
370 
 
 DE HONORE ET EXISTIMATIONE 
 
 pibus gerunt magistratus; in quibus juste et prudenter 
 versantur. Est et genus quoddam honoris, quod raro con¬ 
 tingit ; et tamen inter maximos reponi meretur: hic est, 
 eorum, qui se morti, et periculis, devovent, et sacrificant, 
 propter bonum patriae : quod fecerunt Marcus Regulus, et 
 duo Decii. 
 
 L1V. DE OFFICIO JUDICIS. 
 
 Meminisse debent judices, esse muneris sui, jus dicere, 
 non autem jus dare : leges inquam interpretari, non con¬ 
 dere. Aliter, deveniet eorum auctoritas, simile quiddam, 
 auctoritati illi, quam sibi vendicat ecclesia Romana: quae 
 praetextu interpretationis Scripturum, etiam addit aliquid 
 quandoque, et immutat: et pronunciat, quod non invenit; 
 atque specie antiquitatis, introducit novitatem. Judicem 
 oportet esse, potius eruditum, quam ingeniosum; venera¬ 
 bilem, quam gratiosum; magisque deliberativum, quam 
 confidentem. Ante omnia, integritas judicum quasi portio 
 est, virtusque propria. “ Maledictus sit (inquit lex) qui 
 terminum terrae movet antiquum;” sane, qui lapidem, 
 fines distinguentem, transponit, culpa non caret. Verum 
 judex injustus ille est, qui praecipue terminos immutat, 
 cum de terris et rerum proprietate, iniquam fert senten¬ 
 tiam. Una certe iniqua sententia plus nocet, quam exem¬ 
 pla plurima. Haec enim, rivulos tantum inficiunt, illa 
 autem fontes. Ita ait Salomon; “ Fons turbatus, et vena 
 corrupta, est justus cadens, in causa sua, coram adver¬ 
 sario.” Officium judicis relationem habere possit, partim 
 ad litigantes; partim ad advocatos; partim ad scribas et 
 ministros justiciae subtus; partim ad principem vel statum 
 supra. 
 
 Primo quantum ad causas et litigantes. “ Sunt (inquit 
 Scriptura) qui judicium vertunt in absynthium: ” sunt 
 etiam certe, qui illud vertunt in acetum. Injusticia enim 
 illud reddit amarum ; mora acidum. Judex strenuus, hoc 
 praecipue agit, ut vim et dolum, compescat: quorum vis 
 magis perniciosa est, quanto apertior; dolus quanto tectior 
 et occultior. Adde etiam lites contentiosas; quae evomi 
 debent, ut crapula curiarum. Judicem decet, viam parare 
 ad justam sententiam, qualem Deus parat: “ Valles exal¬ 
 tando colles deprimendo: ” eodem modo, quando ex 
 alterutra parte, videt judex, manum elatam, veluti in pro¬ 
 secutione importuna, captionibus malitiosis, combination i” 
 
DE OFFICIO JUDICIS,- 
 
 371 
 
 bus, patrocinio potentum, advocatorum disparitate, et 
 similibus, tum elucescit virtus judicis in aequandis iis, quae 
 sunt inaequalia; ut judicium suum, veluti. in area plana, 
 fundare possit. “ Qui fortiter emungit, elicit sanguinem; ” 
 cumque torcular vini premitur fortius, vinum prodit acer¬ 
 bum, acinum sapiens. Itaque caveant sibi judices, ab 
 interpretationibus legum duris, et illationibus alte petitis : 
 neque enim pejor est tortura, quam tortura legum. Prae¬ 
 cipue in legibus poenalibus, curae iis esse debet, ne quae in 
 terrorem latae sunt; vertantur in rigorem : neve in popu¬ 
 lum superinducant, imbrem illum, de quo Scriptura: 
 “ Pluet super eos laqueos.” Etenim leges poenales, si 
 severe executioni demandentur, sunt similes imbri laqueo¬ 
 rum, cadenti super populum. Itaque hujusmodi leges, si 
 vel dormiverint diu, vel temporibus praesentibus minus 
 quadrent, a judicibus prudentibus, in executione earum, 
 reprimantur: 
 
 Judicis officium est, ut res, ita tempora rerum, etc. 
 
 In causis capitalibus, decet judices (quantum lex per¬ 
 mittit,) in judicio meminisse misericordiae; et cum severi¬ 
 tate exemplum, cum pietate personam, intueri. 
 
 Quantum ad advocatos qui causas agunt; patientia, et 
 gravitas, in causis audiendis, justitiae est pars essentialis; 
 et judex nimium interioquens minime est cymbalum bene- 
 sonans. Non laudi est judici, si primus aliquid in causa 
 inveniat, et arripiat, quod ab advocatis, suo tempore, melius 
 audire potuisset : aut acumen ostentet, in probationibus, 
 vel advocatorum perorationibus nimis cito interrumpendis; 
 aut anticipet informationes quaestionibus, licet ad rem per¬ 
 tinentibus. Judicis partes in audiendo sunt quatuor: 
 probationum seriem ordinare; advocatorum, et testium, 
 prolixitatem, repetitionem, aut sermones extra rem, mode¬ 
 rari ; eorum, quae allegata sunt, medullam, et quae majoris 
 momenti sunt, recapitulare, seligere, et inter se componere; 
 et demum sententiam ferre. Quicquid ultra haec est, 
 nimium est; et oritur aut a gloriola et loquendi aviditate; 
 aut ab audiendi impatientia; aut a memoriae debilitate; 
 aut a defectu attentionis sedatae, et aequabilis. Saepe- 
 numero mirum est visu, quantum advocatorum audacia 
 apud judices valeat; ubi contra judices ad imitationem 
 Dei, (in cujus tribunali sedent,) “ Superbos comprimere, 
 et humiles erigere,” deberent. Sed etiamnum magis mirum 
 est, judices advocatis quibusdam prae caeteris immoderate 
 et aperte favere. Quod necesse est, ut merces advoca- 
 
372 
 
 DE OFFICIO JUDICIS. 
 
 torum augeat et multiplicet, atque simul suspicionem cor¬ 
 ruptionis, et obliqui ad judices aditus, inducat. Debetur 
 advocato a judice, laus aliqua, et commendatio, cum causae 
 bene aguntur, et tractantur ; praesertim, si causa sua cadat; 
 hoc enim apud clientem, existimationem advocati sui tue¬ 
 tur, et simul opinionem ejus, de causa sua, prosternit. 
 Debetur etiam reipublicae reprehensio advocatorum mode¬ 
 rata, ubi callida nimis praestant consilia,- aut supina appa¬ 
 ret negligentia, aut levis informatio, aut indecora impor¬ 
 tunitas, aut impudens defensio. Advocatus autem illud 
 tribuat judici, ne illi obstrepat, aut se rursus in causam 
 agendam callide insinuet, postquam judex de re pronuncia- 
 verit. E contrario autem, judex se causae mediae, et nulla¬ 
 tenus peroratae, non ingerat; nec clienti occasionem prae¬ 
 beat, ut advocatos suos, vel probationes, ad plenum non 
 auditas conqueratur. 
 
 Quantum ad scribas et ministros. Sedes justitiae, veluti 
 locus sacratus est; ubi non tantum sedes ipsa, sed et sub¬ 
 sellia, et praecinctus sedis, scandalo et corruptelis vacare 
 debent. Etenim (ut ait Scriptura) “ Non colliguntur uvae 
 ex spinis ; ” neque justitia suaves suos fructus edere potest, 
 inter vepres et dumeta, scribarum et ministrorum rapacium, 
 et lucris inhiantium. Curiarum asseclae pravi sunt qua- 
 tuor: primo seminatores litium; qui curias tumescere 
 faciunt, populum tabescere. Secundo, qui curias conten¬ 
 tionibus circa jurisdictionem implicant ; neque vere sunt, 
 (ut habentur) amici curiae; sed parasiti curiae; curias 
 inflando ultra terminos, propter micas et compendia propria. 
 Tertio, ii, qui possunt censeri tanquam curiarum manus 
 sinistrae: homines, qui curiarum processus legitimos, di¬ 
 verticulis, et versutiis, distorquent; justitiamque in lineas 
 obliquas, et labyrinthos, trahunt. Quarto, expilatores et 
 exactores feodorum, qui tritam similitudinem confirmant 
 curiarum ad rubum; quo dum ovis, tempestatem fugiens, 
 se recipit, velleris partem amittit. Contra, scriba anti¬ 
 quus, in anteactis curiarum peritus, in actis ipsis conci¬ 
 piendis cautus, et in negotiis curiae solers, digitus est curiae 
 egregius; et saepe judici ipsi viam monstrat. 
 
 Quantum vero ad principem aut statum. Judices, ante 
 omnia, in memoria fixum tenere debent, versiculum ulti¬ 
 mum Duodecim Tabularum Romanarum : “ Salus populi 
 suprema lex; ” et pro certo ponere, leges, nisi sint in 
 ordine ad eum finem, res esse captiosas, et oracula male 
 inspirata. Itaque, bene succedit, cum rex aut status sae¬ 
 pius cum judicibus deliberat; et rursus, cum judices prin- 
 
 
DE OFFICIO JUDICIS. 
 
 373 
 
 cipem et statura saepius consulant. Ille, cum inter delibe¬ 
 rationes politicas interveniat quaestio juris : hi, cum in 
 subjecto legali interveniant considerationes status. Con¬ 
 tingit enim, haud raro, ut res in judicium adducta, versetur 
 circa meum et tuum, et nihilominus consequentia ejus ad 
 rationes status penetret. Inteiligo autem, ad rationes 
 status pertinere, non solum, si quid ad jura regalia impe¬ 
 tenda spectet, verumetiam si quid innovationem aliquam 
 minus tutam, aut exemplum periculosum, introducat; aut 
 si manifesto portionem aliquam populi majorem gravet. 
 Neque quisquam infirmi judicii existimet, justas leges 
 adversus politica vera aliquid antipathiae habere. Sunt 
 enim haec duo veluti spiritus et nervi, quorum alteri in 
 alteris moventur. Recordentur etiam judices, Salomonis 
 thronum leonibus utrinque suffultum fuisse: sint sane 
 leones, sed leones sub throno; caventes, ne aliquid ex 
 juribus regalibus impetant aut convellant. Postremo, ne 
 sint judices tam ignari juris et praerogativae suae, ut 
 cogitent, non sibi relinqui, tanquam muneris sui partem 
 principalem; sanum et prudentem legum usum, et appli¬ 
 cationem. Etenim in animum revocare poterint, dictum 
 illud apostoli, de lege humanis legibus majore: “ Nos 
 scimus quia lex bona est, modo quis ea utatur legitime. 
 
 LV. DE IRA. 
 
 Iram penitus extinguere velle, ostentatio quaedam Stoico¬ 
 rum est. Meliora nos nacti sumus oracula: “ Irascimini, 
 et nolite peccare; sol non occidat super iracundiam ves¬ 
 tram.” Limites irae apponendi sunt, et quousque, et 
 quamdiu. Dicemus primo, quibus modis, inclinatio natu¬ 
 ralis, aut etiam habitus irae, temperari possit, et leniri. 
 Secundo, qualiter particulares motus irae reprimi possint, 
 aut saltem citra nocumentum cohiberi. Tertio, quibus 
 modis ira excitari possit, aut sedari in aliis. 
 
 Quantum ad primum ; non alia se ostendit via, quam 
 ut serio in animo revolvas mala et calamitates irae; et 
 quam vehementer vitam humanam perturbat, et infestat. 
 Hoc autem tempestivum fuerit, maxime si pone nos respi- 
 ciamus, quamprimum impetus irae resederit. Eleganter 
 Seneca: “ Iram ruinae similem esse, quae in aliud cadendo, 
 seipsam comminuit et frangit.” Hortatur Scriptura : “ Ut 
 animas nostras in patientia possideamus.” Certe, qui- 
 
 
 
374 
 
 DE IRA. 
 
 cunque patientia excidit; de animae suae possessione deji¬ 
 citur. Hominis non est apes imitari: 
 
 -Animasque in vulnere ponunt. 
 
 Ira sane, si quis recte attendat, res humilis est, et infra 
 dignitatem hominis. Hoc liquebit, si illos intueamur, in 
 quibus ira regnat: qui plerunque ex infirmioribus sunt; 
 pueri, mulieres, senes, aegroti. Itaque, cum irasci con¬ 
 tigerit, caveant homines, (si modo dignitatis suse velint 
 esse memores,) ne iram suam, cum metu eorum quibus 
 irascuntur, sed cum contemptu, conjungant; ita ut injuria 
 superiores potius videantur, quam inferiores: quod non 
 difficile factu foret, si quis iram suam paululum regat, et 
 inflectat. 
 
 Quantum ad secundum; causse et motiva irae praecipue 
 tres sunt. Primo, si quis pronus sit ad sensum injuriae ; 
 nemo enim irascitur, nisi qui se laesum sentiat. Itaque 
 teneri qui sunt, et delicati, ut subinde irascantur, necesse 
 est: tot se offerent, quae illis molestiam exhibebunt; quae 
 a naturis robustioribus vix sentientur. Secundo, si quis 
 curiosus et perspicax sit in interpretatione injuriae illatae, 
 quatenus ad circumstantias ejus, ac si contemptum spiraret. 
 Opinio enim contemptus iram excitat et acuit, plusquam 
 laesio ipsa. Itaque, si homines ad ista ingeniosi sint, iram 
 miris modis incendent. Ultimo, opinio contumeliae, sive 
 quod existimatio hominis per consequentiam laedatur et 
 perstringatur, iram intendit et multiplicat. Cui rei accedit 
 remedium praesentaneum, ut quis utatur, (quod Consalvus 
 dicere solebat,) tela honoris crassiore: sed in omnibus irae 
 fraenationibus, optimum est, tempus lucrari; et sibi ipsi 
 persuadere, horam vindictae nondum adesse; sed instare, 
 quasi ad manum, opportunitatem aliquam majorem; atque 
 hoc pacto motum animi interim compescere, et se in tem¬ 
 pus aliud servare. Ira autem, ut citra noxam erumpat, 
 utcunque hominem obsederit, duo sunt, quae maxime ca¬ 
 venda. Prius est, acerbitas verborum, praecipue aculea¬ 
 torum, et ei, quem ferimus, propriorum, communia enim 
 maledicta mordent minus. Atque rursus, secretorum reve¬ 
 latio ; hoc enim societati quemvis ineptum reddit. Pos¬ 
 terius est, ne quis, dum ira fervet, negotium, quod in 
 manibus est, abrumpat; sed utcunque irae fraenum laxet, 
 nihil tamen agat, quod revocari non possit. 
 
 Quantum ad excitandam, aut sedandam, iram in aliis; 
 fit hoc maxime per temporum electionem prudentem. Cum 
 
DE IRA. 
 
 375 
 
 subtristes homines sunt, aut aliquantulum morosi, tempus 
 est iram incendendi. Deinde, ut antea diximus, decer¬ 
 pendo, et inculcando, quicquid contemptum arguere, aut 
 aggravare possit. Rursus, ira sedatur per contraria hisce. 
 Primo, deligendo tempora serena, et ad hilaritatem prona, 
 in quibus negotium aliquod ingratum, et ad iracundiam 
 provocans, aperias : prima enim impressio plurimum valet. 
 Deinde, ut, quantum fieri potest, injuriam a contemptu 
 segreges; eam imperitiae, timori, animi concussioni repen¬ 
 tinae, aut simili cuipiam imputando. 
 
 LVI. DE VICISSITUDINE RERUM. 
 
 Salomon inquit; “ Nihil novum super terram.” Itaque, 
 quemadmodum Plato opinatus est; “ Omnem scientiam 
 nihil aliud esse, quam reminiscentiam; ” sic Salomon pro- 
 nunciat; “ Omnem novitatem nihil aliud esse, quam obli¬ 
 vionem.” Ex quo cernere possis, fluvium lethes, non minus 
 super terram, quam subter teram, decurrere. Astrologus 
 quidam abstrusus, et parum notus, asserit : “ Nisi in causa 
 fuissent res duae constantes; (una, quod stellae fixae aequa¬ 
 lem inter se distantiam perpetuo servent; nec unquam 
 propius sibi invicem accedant, aut longius a se abscedant : 
 altera, quod motus diurnus non variet, ne momentum 
 quidem temporis) individuum aliquod durare potuisset.” 
 Illud certum est, materiam in perpetuo fluxu esse, neque 
 unquam consistere. Atqui, magna illa lintea sepulchralia, 
 quae omnia oblivione involvunt, duo sunt; diluvia et terrae- 
 motus. Quatenus ad conflagrationes, et siccitates magnas, 
 illae populum penitus non absorbent, aut destruunt. Fa¬ 
 bula Phaetontis, brevitatem conflagrationis, ad unius tan¬ 
 tum diei spatium, repraesentavit. Atque triennalis illa, 
 a pluvia cessatio, tempore Eliae, particularis tantum fuit, 
 et multos superstites reliquit. Incensiones illas loqueris, 
 quae per fulmina et fulgura apud Indias Orientales fiunt! 
 Angustae quidem sunt, nec magna spatia occupant. Pes¬ 
 tilentias etiam praetereo, quia nec illae totaliter absorbent. 
 Verum, in memoratis illis duabus calamitatibus, (dilu¬ 
 viorum, et terrae-motuum,) insuper notandum est; reliquias 
 populorum, quas emergere contigerit, plerunque homines 
 rudes et montanos esse; quique temporum praeteritorum 
 memoriam posteris tradere non possint; adeo ut oblivio 
 non minus omnia involvat, quam si nulli prorsus superstites 
 
376 
 
 DE VICISSITUDINE RERUM. 
 
 remanerent. Si quis attente introspiciat Indorum Occi¬ 
 dentalium conditionem, probabile reperiet, eos populum 
 juniorem esse et recentiorem, quam populos orbis veteris. 
 At longe verisimilius est, desolationem illam, quae illos 
 olim invaserat, minime per terrae-motus factam: (contra 
 quam narrabat sacerdos iEgyptius, in colloquio cum 
 Solone, de insula Atlantide; eam, scilicet, a terrae-motu 
 absorptam esse;) sed potius per diluvium particulare. 
 Terrae-motus enim in illis regionibus raro eveniunt. Verum, 
 e contraria parte, tam immania plane et vasta habent 
 flumina, ut fluvii Asiae, Africae, et Europae, prae illis, instar 
 rivulorum sint. Quin et Andes ipsorum, sive montes, 
 nostris longe sunt altiores: unde credibile est, reliquias 
 stirpis hominum, apud eos, post tale diluvium particulare, 
 conservatas fuisse. Quantum vero, ad observationem 
 Macciavelli; nimirum, zelotypiam et aemulationem sec¬ 
 tarum, ad extinguendam rerum memoriam, multa molitam : 
 qui Gregorio magno notam inurit, ac si pro viribus suis 
 antiquitates omnes ethnicorum supprimere annixus fuerit: 
 non video certe hujusmodi zelos, aut notabile quidpiam 
 efficere, aut diu durare: id quod liquet in successione 
 Sabiniani, qui antiquitates easdem statim resuscitavit: tum 
 vero prohibita, licet tenebris cooperta, obrepunt tamen, 
 et suas nanciscuntur periodos. 
 
 Vicissitudines sive mutationes in globo superiori, fusius, 
 in hoc sermone, tractandae non sunt. Forsitan, annus 
 magnus Platonis, nisi mundus ante dissolutioni esset desti¬ 
 natus, aliquem sortiri possit effectum : non in renovandis 
 corporibus individuorum; (id enim fumus et vanitas eorum 
 est, qui opinantur corpora coelestia, accuratiores in haec 
 inferiora habere influentias, quam revera habent;) sed 
 tantum in summis et massis rerum. Cometae proculdubio 
 aliquid operantur super easdem summas et massas rerum; 
 Verum* homines, ut nunc est, indiligentes, aut curiosi, 
 circa eos sunt; eosque potius mirabundi spectant; atque 
 itineraria eorundem conficiunt, quam effectus eorum pru¬ 
 denter et sobrie notant; praecipue effectus eorum compara¬ 
 tivos; id est, cometa talis magnitudinis; talis coloris et 
 lucis; conversionis radiorum; situs, quatenus ad regionem 
 coeli; tempestatis anni; semitae aut cursus; durationis; 
 quales producat effectus. 
 
 Leviculum quiddam est, quod olim inaudiveram; neque 
 tamen prorsus contemni volo, sed in observationem aliquam 
 venire. Ferunt, a Belgis notatum esse, singulis septenis 
 
DE VICISSITUDINE IlERUM. 
 
 377 
 
 lustris, similem annorum temperaturam et tempestatum 
 coeli, velut in orbem redire: exempli gratia; magnas glacies, 
 inundationes magnas, magnas siccitates, hyemes tepidas, 
 aestates frigidiores; et similia. Vocant autem hujusmodi 
 circulum annorum, Primam. Hoc autem ideo recenseo, 
 quod oculos in praeterita conjiciens, hujusce rei inveni 
 congruentiam; haud exactam sane, sed non multum dis¬ 
 crepantem. 
 
 Verum transeamus a naturalibus ad humana. Maxima 
 apud homines vicissitudo, est illa sectarum et religionum. 
 Hi enim orbes, animis hominum, maxime dominantur. 
 Religio vera super petram aedificata est; reliquae fluctibus 
 temporum agitantur. Dicamus igitur de novarum sectarum 
 causis; atque consilii aliquid circa eas inspergamus; 
 quatenus humani ingenii infirmitas, tantis revolutionibus, 
 moras injicere, aut remedia exhibere, poterit. 
 
 Quando religio recepta discordiis laceratur; sanctitas 
 item professorum labefactata est, et scandalo exposita; 
 simulque tempora stupida, indocta, et barbara sunt; a 
 novae alicujus sectae ortu merito metuendum; praecipue, si 
 eo tempore, ingenium aliquod intemperans, et paradoxa, 
 spirans, suboriatur. Quae omnia tenuerunt, Mahometes 
 cum legem suam promulgavit. Secta nova licet pullulet, 
 duobus si destituatur adminiculis, ab ea non metuas; non 
 enim late se diffundet. Primum est, imperii, sive auctori¬ 
 tatis stabilitae, oppugnatio; nihil enim magis populare 
 est, quam principatus, et politias, convellere. Alterum est, 
 porta luxuriae et voluptatibus aperta: hereses enim specu¬ 
 lativae, (qualis fuit olim Arrianorum, et hodie Arminia- 
 norum,) etsi in hominum ingenia miris modis operentur, 
 statum tamen rerumpublicarum non magnopere concutient, 
 nisi ex occasione motuum civilium. Modi tres sunt, 
 quibus novae sectae plantantur; miraculis, eloquentia, et 
 gladio. Equidem martyria inter miracula numero; quoniam 
 vires naturae humanae excedere videntur: idem etiam facere 
 licet, de excelsa illa et admirabili vitae sanctimonia. Certe, 
 non alia melior via est, ad sectarum et schismatum ortus 
 repellendos, quam abusuum reformatio; dissidiorum mi¬ 
 norum pacificatio; leniter a principio procedere, et a 
 sanguinariis persecutionibus abstinere; schismatum denique 
 coryphaeos, favoribus potius et dignitatibus mollire atque 
 allicere, quam violentia et saevitia exacerbare. 
 
 Mutationes et vicissitudines in rebus bellicis, haud paucae 
 sunt; sed praecipue in tribus versantur: in sede belli; in 
 
378 
 
 DE VICISSITUDINE RERUM. 
 
 genere armorum; et in disciplina militari: bella, antiquis 
 temporibus, movere videbantur, ex oriente potissimum in 
 occidentem: etenim Persee, Assyrii, Arabes, Scythi, (qui 
 invasores erant,) omnes orientales fuerunt. Verum est 
 Gallos fuisse occidentales: sed de duabus tantum ipsorum 
 incursionibus legimus; una in Gallo-Graeciam, altera contra 
 Romanos. Attamen oriens et occidens coeli climata non 
 determinant; neque etiam belli motus, ab oriente, aut ab 
 occidente, aliquid certae observationis recipiunt* Sed 
 meridies, et septentrio, natura fixi sunt: atque raro, in 
 omni memoria invenitur, meridionales interiores invasisse 
 septentrionales; sed e contra. Unde manifestum est, 
 tractum mundi septentrionalem, natura ipsa, magis esse 
 bellicosum; sive hoc ascribi possit hujus hemispherii 
 stellis; sive amplitudini continentium ad partes septen¬ 
 trionales, cum partes australes, (quantum adhuc inno¬ 
 tuit,) maria fere occupant; sive, (id quod manifestissimum 
 est,) frigoribus climatis borealis; nam hoc ipsum, absque 
 alia causa quacunque, corpora indurat, spiritus inflam¬ 
 mat: ut liquet in populo Araucensi; qui ad ulteriora 
 austri positi, omnibus Peruviensibus, fortitudine longe 
 praecellunt. 
 
 Imperio aliquo magno labascente, et viribus fracto, pro 
 certo bella expectes. Etenim imperia magna, dum in 
 vigore sunt, copias nativas provinciarum enervant et 
 destruunt, propriis cohortibus domi fidentia; cum autem 
 et illae deficiunt, omnia ruunt, atque aliis gentibus in 
 praedam cedunt. Hoc evenit in declinatione imperii Ro¬ 
 mani ; atque etiam in imperio occidentali, post Carol um 
 magnum, cum aves singulae plumas suas repeterent; atque 
 simile quidpiam, etiam imperio Hispano, contingere possit, 
 siquando viribus decideret. Ex altera parte, accessiones 
 magnae ditionum, et uniones regnorum, similiter bella 
 suscitant: etenim, cum status aliquis in potentiam majorem 
 insurgit, similis est fluvio intumescenti, qui inundationem 
 statim minatur: ut videre est in imperiis Romanorum, 
 Turearum, Hispanorum, et aliorum. Attende, cum mundus 
 nationibus barbaris minus abundet, sed civiliores fere sunt; 
 qui uxores temere non ducent, nec liberos progignent, nisi 
 modum familiam alendi, aut saltem victum parandi, praevi¬ 
 derint ; (ut fit in omnibus prope nationibus, hodierno die, 
 exceptis Tartaris,) non ingruit periculum ab inundationibus 
 aut migrationibus populorum: at cum populorum greges 
 magni sunt, qui perpetuo sobolem suscipiunt, de fortunis 
 
DE VICISSITUDINE HERUM. 
 
 379 
 
 et sustentatione sua in futurum minime solliciti; neces¬ 
 sarium est, ut in seculo uno aut altero, portionem aliquam 
 multitudinis suae exonerent, et novas sedes quaerant; et 
 sic alias nationes invadant; quod populi septentrionales 
 veteres sorte facere solebant: sortes dantes, quae pars 
 domi maneret, quae autem alio migraret. Cum gens aliqua, 
 prius Bellicosa, ad mollitiem et luxuriam degenerat, de 
 bello certa esse possit: status enim tales, plerunque, dum 
 degenerant, opes accumulant; adeo ut praeda invitet, et 
 declinatio virium animet, gentes alias, ad eosdem inva¬ 
 dendos. 
 
 Quantum ad armorum et telorum genus; illorum muta¬ 
 tiones sub observationem vix cadunt: attamen et haec ipsa 
 periodos et vicissitudines suas sortiuntur. Pro certo enim 
 est, tormenta aenea, apud urbem Oxydracarum in India, 
 tempore Alexandri Magni, cognita fuisse; eaque a Mace¬ 
 donibus, tonitrua, et fulgura, et operationes magicas, 
 habita et appellata. Similiter, indubitatum est, usum 
 pulveris pyrii, and tormentorum igneorum, Chinensibus, 
 ante annos bis mille, innotuisse. Conditiones telorum, et 
 mutationes in melius, hae sunt: primo, ut ad distantiam 
 majorem feriant: id enim periculum, ab hostili parte, 
 anticipat; quod certe tormenta, et sclopeta majora praestant. 
 Secundo, ut impetus eorum fortior et validior sit; in quo 
 genere, tormenta ignea, arietationes omnes et antiquas 
 machinas, item superant. Tertio, ut usus eorum com¬ 
 modior et facilior sit; id quod etiam tormentis igneis 
 majoribus competit: quae omnibus tempestatibus idonea; 
 vectura levia et mobilia sunt: et his similia. 
 
 Quod ad militiam attinet: antiquis temporibus numerum 
 praecipue curabant; virtuti et animis militum, in bellis 
 gerendis, fidebant; dies saepius et loca praeliandi consti¬ 
 tuebant, et aequo marte experiebantur; denique in acie 
 instruenda et ordinanda imperitiores fere erant. Postea, 
 numerum praeoptabant commodum potius quam vastum ; 
 locorum opportunitates, diversionum artificia, et similia, 
 captabant; postremo, in acie ipsa instruenda peritiores 
 evadebant. 
 
 In reipublicae alicujus adolescentia arma florent; aetate 
 media literae; ac deinceps, ad moram aliquam, duo illa 
 simul, florere solent: devexa autem aetate, artes mechanicae 
 et mercatura. Literae vero suam habent infantiam, quando 
 leviusculae sunt, et pueriles: sequitur earum adolescentia, 
 quando luxuriantur, et juvenile quiddam sapiunt: sue- 
 
380 
 
 DE VICISSITUDINE RERUM. 
 
 cedit aetas virilis, quando solidiores et exactiores deveniunt ; 
 postremo senectus earum obrepit, cum siccae et exhaustae 
 fiunt; manente tamen garrulitate. Verum consultum non 
 fuerit, in rotas hasce vicissitudinum, nimis longum oculos 
 figere ; ne vertigine corripiamur. Quatenus vero ad philo¬ 
 logiam, quae in hoc argumento, ut plurimum, versatur, 
 nihil aliud est, quam narratiuncularum et observationum 
 futilium congeries quaedam; ideoque scripto huic minime 
 congruit. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 Air, the theory of Anaximenes, that it 
 is the sole element discussed, 53. 
 
 Alchymists have by their researches 
 brought much profit to mankind, 29. 
 
 Alphabet of Nature, rule and form of, 
 209. 
 
 Ambitions of men, three kinds of, 35. 
 
 Ambulacra privata, 355. 
 
 Anaxagoras, -26. 
 
 Anaximenes, his theory that air is the 
 one sole element discussed, 53. 
 
 Anaximenes, see Empedocles. 
 
 Ancient philosophers, their theories 
 concerning primitive matter, 49. 
 
 Antarctic hemisphere, dusky spots in, 
 what are causes of, 183. 
 
 Antiquity, knowledge not to be sought 
 in the obscurity of, but in the light 
 of nature, 99. 
 
 Antiquity, philosophers’, some of their 
 opinions not false or vain, 101. 
 
 Aristotle, remarks on his system of 
 Natural Philosophy, 26. 
 
 Aristotle subjected his contemplations 
 to terms, 50. 
 
 Aristotle, his custom to prefer the 
 obscure, 173 ; his annihilation of 
 all affinity between the heavenly 
 bodies and all elementary substances 
 a piece of gn at temerity , 173. 
 
 Aristotle as a moral philosopher sur- 
 passed by Tacitus, 102, 
 
 Art, the true extent of, aud its power 
 over nature, 154. 
 
 Astronomers, it is of no use to refute 
 their hypotheses, 12. 
 
 Astronomical observations, admonition 
 respecting, 13. 
 
 Astronomy, conceits of philosophers 
 which have disturbed, 10. 
 
 Astronomy ought to be carefully dis¬ 
 tinguished between it and philoso¬ 
 phy, 172. 
 
 Audibles and Visibles, and other so 
 called spiritual species, consents of, 
 
 240, 243; dissents of, 231, 235, 
 
 241, 242, 244. 
 
 Bacon, Lord, his reasons for devoting 
 himself to philosophy, 103. 
 
 Bacon, Lord, reasons which induced 
 him to devote himself to philosophy, 
 220, 223. 
 
 Bodies, distinction of, according to the 
 quantity of matter they contain in 
 a given space, 126. 
 
 Body, of, affected by body, 185. 
 
 Bodies, propension of, to conglomerate 
 with the earth, 185 ; their influence 
 terminates in its own sphere, 185. 
 
 Cause and Effect, things which agree 
 in their periods or in their mode of 
 relation, are always subjected one 
 to the other, or stand on cause and 
 effect, 197. 
 
 Chance, its power in promoting dis¬ 
 covery and invention, 37. 
 
 Choleram refert, 333. 
 
 Circular motion, eternity cannot be 
 predicated from, 174. 
 
 Circular motion no proof ofeternity, 178. 
 
 Classes, things cannot be properly 
 arranged into, by one who does not 
 very well understand the motion of 
 them, 209. 
 
 Combinalion and succession of sci¬ 
 entific efforts, on the, 119. 
 
 Communication and transmission of 
 discoveries and inventions, 42. 
 
 Compass, the effects produced by the 
 invention of, 35 ; Discovery, see In¬ 
 vention. 
 
 Conceits of philosophers, which have 
 corrupted the science of Astronomy, 
 iO. 
 
 Copernicus, difficulty of his sv stem of 
 the earth, 165 ; opinion that it must 
 have echoed from the ancients, 165 ; 
 the sun, opinion that it is centre, 
 quite new; system, depth of, the 
 third question, 165. 
 
 Cupid and Love, the fables of the an¬ 
 cients respecting, 44. 
 
382 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Cupid, why fabled to be without a 
 parent, 45. 
 
 Cupid, able interpretation of those 
 parts of, which make Cupid a de¬ 
 finite person, 50 ; and veiled, 51. 
 
 Democritus, the philosophy of, ex¬ 
 hibited in the fable of Cupid, 44, 
 49. 
 
 Democritus, the repute in which his 
 philosophy is held, 48; circum¬ 
 stances which caused it to sink into 
 neglect, 48 ; primitive remarks on 
 the theory of Democritus and Leu¬ 
 cippus, 167 ; intermixtum and coa¬ 
 cervatum theories of, 167 ; whether 
 the interstellar space or pure ether, 
 be one entire unbroken stream, or 
 consist of a variety of contiguous 
 parts, 168. 
 
 Democritus, his theory of the uni¬ 
 verse, 162. 
 
 Dissimulatione et Simulatione, 260. 
 
 Earth, whether it is perishable, 173 ; 
 the internal parts not more exposed 
 to decay than the heavens them¬ 
 selves, 174. 
 
 Earth itself furnishes the cause of al¬ 
 most none of its changes, 174. 
 
 Earth, rotation of, an extravagant no¬ 
 tion, 199 ; whether the diurnal mo¬ 
 tion is confined within the region of 
 heaven, 198. 
 
 Earth, the idea that it is a magnet a 
 light imagination, 203 ; inward parts 
 of, cannot resemble any substance 
 which the eye of man hath seen, 203. 
 
 Ecclesiae unitas, qui sunt ejus fructus, 
 254 ; qui limites, 255 ; quibus mo¬ 
 dis concilietur, 257. 
 
 Echo, phenomenon of, 240. 
 
 Element, the author intends by the 
 word only larger masses of conna¬ 
 tural substances, 157. 
 
 Empedocles, 26. 
 
 Empedocles, his theory of the sub¬ 
 stance of the moon, 183. 
 
 Empirical, when united with philoso¬ 
 phical, means of arts and science, 
 will accelerate their progress, 39. 
 
 Errors of times past in natural philo¬ 
 sophy a source of hope for the fu¬ 
 ture, 40. 
 
 Ether, three regions of—region of air, 
 of planetary heaven, of starry hea¬ 
 ven, 169. 
 
 Ether, the outer body of, not certain 
 that it is diaphonous, firm, and im¬ 
 mutable, 175. 
 
 Ether, the opinion that it is the vehicle 
 to which the stars are carried, 182. 
 
 Eternity of the sun, objected to that 
 innumerable changes take place on 
 its surface, and not in heaven an¬ 
 swered, 180. 
 
 Flame, difference between terrestrial 
 and celestial, 147. 
 
 Flame, expansion of the body of, may 
 be estimated by probable conjecture, 
 148. 
 
 Generations, history of, or nature at 
 large, five divisions of, 157. 
 
 Gilbert, his theory of a “ vacuum coa¬ 
 cervatum,” 4. 
 
 Gilbertus, his theory that stars are solid 
 bodies in vacuo except surrounded 
 by an atmosphere, 166. 
 
 Gilbertus, his observations that heavy 
 bodies carried a distance from the 
 earth are gradually divested of their 
 motion towards bodies beneath, 185. 
 
 Globe, intellectual description of, 156. 
 
 Globe, is the form into which larger 
 accumulationsof things impart them¬ 
 selves, 171. 
 
 God, no sufficient light for the know¬ 
 ledge of, to be expected from the 
 interpretation of natural things, 92. 
 
 Gradations, fine, alternate into dis¬ 
 tinct transits by nature, 169 ; Sun 
 masculae in a germ of starry matter, 
 169 ; Jupiter, satellites of, 169. 
 
 Gravity, specific, see matter ; history 
 of the expansion and conjunction of 
 in the same body, 137. 
 
 Greece, philosophers of, their systems 
 of natural philosophy, 25. 
 
 Gunpowder, effects produced by the 
 invention of, 35. 
 
 Heavens, surprising changes and ano¬ 
 malies take place therein, apparent 
 from the appearance of new stars, 
 176. 
 
 Heavenly bodies, theory of the matter 
 composing them, 1. 
 
 Heavenly bodies, theory of their mo¬ 
 tions, 13; opinions affirmed and 
 denied by this theory, 14. 
 
 Heavenly bodies, history of, should 
 only embrace phenomena and not 
 dogmas, 158; detailed statement of, 
 160. 
 
 Heavenly bodies, when the substance 
 is different from that of this lower 
 orb, 173. 
 
 Heavenly bodies, change in, 175; 
 
INDEX. 
 
 383 
 
 some instances of, 176; not to be 
 ascribed to atmospheric errors, 177. 
 Heavenly bodies, their changes, 175. 
 Heavenly bodies, motion of, not evi¬ 
 dence of their eternity, 178. 
 
 Heavenly bodies may act on one ano¬ 
 ther, 179. 
 
 Heavenly bodies that straggle from ex¬ 
 perience, Aristotle’s theory that they 
 are not subject to heat, 180. 
 Heraclitus, 26. 
 
 Heraclitus, his theory that fire is the 
 one sole element discussed, 53. 
 Heraclides, of Pontus, Elephantus and 
 Nicetas, of Syracuse, Philolaus, 
 their opinions of the universe, which 
 exploded the uotion of a system, 
 163. 
 
 Hero, explanation of an altar described 
 by him, 149. 
 
 History, natural, the basis of natural 
 philosophy, 122. 
 
 History, natural, chief cause of com¬ 
 plaint respecting, is that men have 
 erred rather in the mode of proceed¬ 
 ing than in design, 124. 
 
 History, natural, of things individual, 
 152. 
 
 History, divided into natural and civil, 
 
 152. 
 
 History of generations, 157. 
 
 Hopes of the progress of invention and 
 discovery, 36. 
 
 Induction, what form of, should be 
 introduced, 42. 
 
 Jnstauration, outline, argument, and 
 scope of the second part of, 106. 
 Interpreter, qualities of the, 90 ; duties 
 of the, 91. 
 
 Interpretation of nature, or the inven¬ 
 tion of things and works, thoughts 
 and observations concerning, 16. 
 Interpretation, impediments of, 89. 
 Inventions of man which we possess 
 are very imperfect, and cannot be 
 ascribed to philosophy, 16; causes 
 which repress inventions—the belief 
 that all is impossible that is not 
 already found, 16 ; a greater apti¬ 
 tude to admire the provisions of man 
 than to apprehend his wants, 18 ; 
 premature reduction into systems, 
 18 ; mistakes respecting the ends of 
 science, 19. 
 
 Invention, the modes of, in use, re¬ 
 viewed, 32. 
 
 Invention, a general mode of, induce¬ 
 ments to attempt its discovery, 33. 
 Inventions, the value and efficacy of, 
 
 effects produced in the condition of 
 the world by the invention of print¬ 
 ing, gunpowder, and the compass, 
 35. 
 
 Invention and discovery, their advance¬ 
 ment—a kindling of the desire to 
 effect it, 33; formation of hopes, 
 36 ; means of performance, 41. 
 
 Inventions, the mode of communi¬ 
 cating and transmitting them, 42. 
 
 Invention and discovery, hopes and 
 prospects of their progress, 36; from 
 the operation of time, 36 ; from the 
 power of chance, 37 ; from trans¬ 
 ferring and applying inventions al¬ 
 ready known, 39 ; from the union 
 of the empirical and philosophical 
 means of arts and sciences, 39 ; from 
 the errors of times past, 40 ; means 
 of performance, general maxims 
 concerning, 40. 
 
 King’s College, Cambridge, pheno¬ 
 menon in, a wooden building there 
 containing bells, 244. 
 
 Knowledge, not to be sought in the 
 obscurity of antiquity, but in the 
 light of nature, 99. 
 
 Learning, human, divided into three 
 parts, 150. 
 
 Light, topics of enquiry concerning, 
 82 ; presence and absence tables, 
 82; table of degrees, 83 ; colours 
 of, 83 ; reflexions of, 83 ; multipli¬ 
 cation of, 83 ; modes of destroying, 
 84 ; operation of, 84 ; continuance 
 of, 84 ; ways and progress of, 85 ; 
 transparency, 85; cognations and 
 hostilities of light—light compared 
 with sound, 86. 
 
 Light, natural, aphorisms concerning 
 the kindling of, 87 ; helps of the 
 mind and kindling of natural light, 
 aphorisms and advice concerning, 
 87. 
 
 Light, opinion of Telesius that com¬ 
 mon air contains a quantity of, 181. 
 
 Light and sound, the agreements and 
 disagreements of the phenomena of, 
 231, 235, 240, 241, 242, 243. 
 
 Love, see Cupid. 
 
 Man, condition of, 89. 
 
 Matter, quantity of, whether always 
 measured by weight, 128, 131. 
 
 Matter, a table of the conjunction and 
 expansion of, in tangible bodies, with 
 a calculation of their ratios in dif¬ 
 ferent bodies, 129 ; account of the 
 
384 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 experiments from which the table 
 was made, 130; cautions and ob¬ 
 servations, 131.’ 
 
 Matter, whether there be other masses 
 of solid, besides the earth, opinion 
 of Gilbertus, 182. 
 
 Matter, bodies distinguished according 
 to quantity of matter they contain in 
 a given space, 125. 
 
 Mechanical things, the study of, 123. 
 
 Moon, opinion that it is composed of 
 solid matter, 183. 
 
 Moon, substance of, 183. 
 
 Moon, mass of, projected by Gilbertus 
 and examined by Galileo, 183. 
 
 Musical instrument played on by the 
 rays of the sun, 149. 
 
 Nature, thoughts and observations 
 concerning the interpretation of, 16. 
 
 Nature, only conquered by obeying, 
 35. 
 
 Nature, the principles and origin of, 
 according to the fables of Cupid and 
 Heaven, 44. 
 
 Nature, interpretation of, 230. 
 
 Nature, hints on the true interpretation 
 of, 106. 
 
 Nature, legitimate interpretation of, 
 in the first ascent, should be kept 
 separate from works, 222. 
 
 Natural Philosophy, causes which 
 have retarded its progress ; its having 
 become merely a passage to other 
 arts, 20; superstition, 20 ; customs 
 of universities, schools, and colleges, 
 21 ; causes arising from the common 
 feeling of men, 22; the vagueness 
 of words, 23 ; false promises held 
 forth by some of its professors, 24 ; 
 the rejection of particulars, 24. 
 
 Natural history of things individual, 
 152. 
 
 Natural History, division of, accord¬ 
 ing to its subject, 153. 
 
 Natural History, division of, accord¬ 
 ing to its use, 155. 
 
 Natural History what the noblest 
 end of, 155 ; a true one wanting 
 and of what kind it ought to be, 155. 
 
 Natural Philosophy, new systems of, 
 those of Telesio, Fracastoro, Cardan, 
 and Gilbert, 27. 
 
 Natural Philosophy concerning those 
 systems which are received, and 
 those which have come to us from 
 ancient times, 25. 
 
 On., mode of expansion of, and phe¬ 
 nomena attending the boiling of, 146. 
 
 Optical instruments, the benefits which 
 the world is likely to derive from 
 their invention, 160. 
 
 Plato, remarks on his system of Na¬ 
 tural Philosophy, 26. 
 
 Plato subjected the world to his con¬ 
 templations, 50. 
 
 Plato, his works do not breathe such 
 living observations of manners as 
 the works of Tacitus, 102. 
 
 Platonic school and Patricius, what 
 they have said concerning the 
 heaven of heavens and pure space, 
 mere figments, 171. 
 
 Particular objects, their investigation 
 ' not an endless task as that of 
 opinions and disputes is, 125; nor 
 derogatory to the human mind, 125. 
 
 Parmenides, the philosophy of, as ex¬ 
 hibited in the fable concerning 
 Cupid, 44. 
 
 Pensile, whether solid globe can remain 
 so, 185. 
 
 Saturn, Jupiter, and Mars, the four, 
 and order of them, 170. 
 
 Sea, ebb and flow of, 192; motions of, 
 are only five, 192 ; the great six- 
 hours diurnal motion principally 
 treated, 192 ; motions of currents do 
 not contradict the notion of a natu¬ 
 ral and catholic motion of the sea, 
 
 193 ; grand diurnal motion not one 
 of elevation or depression, 194 ; 
 elevated all over the world at equi¬ 
 noxes, and at the new and full moon, 
 
 194 ; objections to the opinion that 
 the diurnal motion is a progressive 
 one, from the fact that in some places 
 wells have simultaneous motions with 
 the sea, and from the fact that waters 
 are raised and depressed simulta¬ 
 neously on the shore of Europe and 
 Florida, considered, 195, 196. 
 
 Sea, ebb and flow of, from what cause 
 it arises, 197. 
 
 Sea, whence arises the reciprocal ac¬ 
 tion of tides once in six hours, 204 ; 
 explanation of the difference of tides 
 connected with the moon’s motion, 
 205. 
 
 Scientific efforts, remarks on the com¬ 
 bination and succession of, 119. 
 
 Simulatione et dissimulatione, de, 260. 
 
 Small trivial things, the consideration 
 of, not below the dignity of the 
 human mind, 125. 
 
 Spirits of wine, concerning the mode 
 of expansion of matter in, 148. 
 
INDEX. 
 
 385 
 
 % 
 
 Stars, old ones, not true that they are 
 not subject to change, 176. 
 
 Star, what is meant by the opinion 
 that it is the denser part of its own 
 sphere, 181. 
 
 Stars, question respecting the sub¬ 
 stance of, 182. 
 
 Stars, whether kept alive by sustenta- 
 tion, 187; whether increased or 
 lessened, generated, extinguished, 
 188 ; whether, during long lapses of 
 ages, stars are produced and decom¬ 
 posed, 185. 
 
 Stars, should be enquired whether 
 give light of themselves, or whether 
 received from the sun, 185. 
 
 Stars, whether that be the true number 
 of them which is visible, 190 ; what 
 are the real dimensions of each star, 
 190; what data there are for deter¬ 
 mining them, 190. 
 
 Stars, true distances of, for determin¬ 
 ing, if possible, if not comparative 
 should be ascertained, 191. 
 
 Statement, legitimate mode of, 223. 
 
 Sound and light, the agreements and 
 disagreements of the phenomena of, 
 231, 235, 240, 241, 242,243, 244. 
 
 Sound, reasons for enquiring into the 
 theory of, 225. 
 
 Sound, of its generation and the first 
 percussion, 226 ; whether its form 
 is any local and perceptible motion 
 of the air, 226; three experiments 
 wherein sound is generated contra- 
 rily to the perceptible motion of the 
 air, 227 ; is generated by percus¬ 
 sions, 227 ; air required for its gene¬ 
 ration, 228 ; whether flame would 
 suffice instead of air, 228 ; lasting 
 of, and its perishing, 229 ; confusion 
 and perturbations of sounds, 230 ; 
 compared with light, why many 
 visibles seen at once do not confound 
 one another, and many sounds heard 
 at once do, 231. 
 
 Sound, of the variety of bodies yield¬ 
 ing it, instruments producing it, 
 species of sounds, 237; circum¬ 
 stances regulating the pitch in va¬ 
 rious sonorous bodies, 238 ; multi¬ 
 plication, majoration, diminution, 
 and fraction of, 238. 
 
 Sound, time in which its generation, 
 extinction, and transmission, are 
 effected, 243; less quickly trans¬ 
 mitted than light, 244 ; of its affi¬ 
 nity with the motion of the air in 
 which it is carried, 244. 
 
 Sound, aids and impediments of, stay 
 VOL. XV. 
 
 of, 232; diversity of mediums of, 
 232. 
 
 Sound and hearing, history and first 
 inquisition of, 225. 
 
 Sound, communion of the air percussed 
 with the ambient air and bodies, 246. 
 
 Sound, penetration of 232 ; whether 
 heard under water, 232 ; whether it 
 can be generated except there be air 
 between the percussing and per¬ 
 cussed body, 233; carriage, direc¬ 
 tion, and spreading of the area it 
 fills, 234; compared with light, the 
 former may be conveyed in curved 
 lines, 235. 
 
 Summary of the opinions which this 
 theory affirms and denies, 4. 
 
 Sun, Venus, Mercury, and the Moon, 
 their relative situations doubted by 
 the ancients, 170. 
 
 Sun, phenomena in the year 790, 
 and after the death of Julius Caesar, 
 177. 
 
 System, fourth question, the cohesion 
 of, or substance connecting it: three 
 modes of viewing this, 166. 
 
 System, whether there be different 
 centres around the, theories of Tycho 
 and Galileo, 171. 
 
 System may exist consistently with 
 opinions that the earth revolves and 
 that planets are solid, 163. 
 
 Tacitus, his works breathe more 
 living observation of manners than 
 those of Aristotle and Plato, 102. 
 
 Telesius, the philosophy of, exhibited 
 in the fable of Cupid, 44. 
 
 Time, its operation in promoting dis¬ 
 covery and invention, 36. 
 
 Time, masculine birth of, 223. 
 
 Thales, discussion of his theory that 
 water is the prime element, 52. 
 
 Theory of the motions of the heavenly 
 bodies, 5. 
 
 Theories and common notions to be 
 done away with, opinions, 41. 
 
 Theories, universal, the invention of, by 
 persons ignorant of particulars, 100. 
 
 Theories of Astronomers, the object of 
 the, 159. 
 
 Vacuum, whether it exists at all, 
 theory of, 167. 
 
 Venus and Mercury, a question which 
 is higher than the other, 170. 
 
 Venus, change of its colour in the 
 reign of Ogyges, and in 1578, 177. 
 
 Viol and lute, use of the perforations 
 made in them, 246. 
 c c 
 
386 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Water, the theory of Thales that it is 
 the prime element discussed, 52. 
 Wind, a perennial east wind within 
 the tropics, 200. 
 
 Winds in Europe, east wind why sharp 
 and dry, and south west humid, 
 200 . 
 
 Zenophanes, 26. 
 
 t 
 
 LATIN. 
 
 Abeunt studia in mores, 362. 
 
 Actio quare supra nobiliores partes 
 oratoris extollitur, 274. 
 
 Adulator in quibus teipsum excellere 
 putas in haerebit maxime, 366. 
 
 Adversis de rebus, 259. 
 
 Albertus Durerus nugatores, 345. 
 
 Ambitione de, 333. 
 
 Amore de, 270. 
 
 Amicitia de, 308. 
 
 Amicitiae fructus tres-pax in affecti¬ 
 bus, 308 ; fulcrimentum judicii, 311 j 
 atixilium in occasionibus vitae, 313. 
 
 Arma et militia ex professo colenda, 
 320. 
 
 Arma capescendi causas in promptu 
 leges et consuetudines status alicu- 
 jus ministram debent, 320. 
 
 Astutia de, 299. 
 
 Atheismo de, 385. 
 
 Atheismi et superstitionis comparatio, 
 287. 
 
 Audacia de, 274. 
 
 Augustum Caesaream inter et Tiberium 
 discrimen, 260. 
 
 Auctoritate in utenda vilia, 273. 
 
 Aviaria non probata nisi ampla sint, 
 355. 
 
 Bella moderna cum antiquis collata, 
 322. 
 
 Bellum civile instar est caloris fibrilis, 
 321 ; justum loco salubris exercita¬ 
 tionis est reipublicae, 321. 
 
 Bonitate de et bonitate nativa, 276. 
 
 Callidi literas contemnunt, simplices 
 admirantur prudentes utuntur, 361. 
 
 Cato, a Livio descriptus, 338. 
 
 Celeritas, ordo et distributio celeritatis 
 tanquam vita est, 306. 
 
 Caeremoniis civilibus de, et decoro, 
 364. 
 
 Cogitare bene non melius quam bene 
 somniare nisi in actum producatur, 
 272. 
 
 Clientes sumptuosi, commencer, fac¬ 
 tiosi, gloriosi, 357. 
 
 Clientibus, famulis et amicis de, 357. 
 
 Coloniae regimen committatur uni, 
 329. 
 
 Coloniae salubritas consulenda, 329 ; 
 justitia, securitas, propagatio, 330. 
 
 Consilio de, 295 ; ejus commoda, 295 ; 
 incommoda, 296 ; quid consilia hac 
 aetate sunt et quid esse debent, 298. 
 
 Consuetudo copulata et conjuncta et 
 in collegium exacte excellit, 337. 
 
 Consuetudine et educatione, 336. 
 
 Consiliis in capiendas et in eorum exe- 
 cutione quid faciendum, 275. 
 
 Corruptela in auctoritate utenda qui¬ 
 bus modis ea et ejus suspicio devi¬ 
 tandae sunt, 273. 
 
 Cultura soli, merces perpetuo impor^ 
 tans, 331. 
 
 Deformitate, de, 345; inter corpus 
 et animam consensus, 345 ; defor- 
 mitus stimulum virtuti, 345; in 
 magnis ingeniis deformitas ascensum 
 in honores patefacit, 346. 
 
 Difficilioribus rebus non expectandum 
 ut quis simul serat et metat, 357. 
 
 Divitiis de, 330. 
 
 Divitiae alas habent ne sis in minutis 
 tenax, 332. 
 
 Domus elegans in situ malo, career, 
 346. 
 
 Excusationes decorae, ostentationis 
 artes, 368. 
 
 Editiciis de, ut habitemus non ut spec-* 
 ternus, 346. 
 
 Educatio, nihil aliud quam consue¬ 
 tudo, 337. 
 
 Expediendis, negotiis de, 305. 
 
 Factionibus de, 362. 
 
 Factionum motus sub regibus similes 
 esse debent orbium inferiorem, 363. 
 
 Fama fluvio similis est, 365. 
 
 Famae proci et veluti venatores, 368. 
 
 Felis et mus .Esopi, 336. 
 
 Fcenore in, duae proportiones, pro mer¬ 
 caturam et pro alios contractus,341. 
 
INDEX. 387 
 
 Fodinae fallaces sunt, 329. 
 
 Fontium duo generas, saliem, et recep¬ 
 taculum, 358. 
 
 Fortune de, 338 ; “ Fabei quisque for¬ 
 tunae suae/'’ 338. 
 
 Fortuna praepropera turbulentos red¬ 
 dit exercitatu cordatos, 339. 
 Fundationes relictae, ex alieno potius 
 quam e proprio, 333. 
 
 Gloria, vana de, 367 ; musca JE- 
 sopi, 367. 
 
 Gloria vana ad propagandum et per¬ 
 petuandum memoriam magnopere 
 juvat, 367. 
 
 Gloriosum esse, non inutili est mili¬ 
 taribus, 367. 
 
 Gratiosi, signa infirmi animi in prin¬ 
 cipibus, 334. 
 
 Hiberni rebellis supplicatio, 337. 
 Hominibus in, de natura et indole na¬ 
 turali, 335; occultatur, vincitur, 
 extinguitur, 335. 
 
 Honore et existimatione de, 368. 
 
 Honor tribus insignitur commodis, 334. 
 Hortis de, Deus ipse primus plantavit 
 hortum, 350. 
 
 Horti regales, pro singulis anni mensi¬ 
 bus, 350. 
 
 Horti regales, in tres partes dividi con¬ 
 venit, graminetum, fruticetum, hor¬ 
 tum praecipium, 352. 
 
 Imperatores ambitiosi sint, 333. 
 Impedimenta virtutis, 330. 
 
 Imperii, finibus de proprendis, 315. 
 Imperii alicujus virum valorem exci¬ 
 pere res maxime errori obnoxia, 316. 
 Innovationibus de, 304. 
 
 Indoles naturalis, felix, cum vitae suae 
 genere congruit, 336. 
 
 Intellectui impedimenta eurendari 
 quemadmodum morbi corporis, 362. 
 Interruptus orator prolixior fiat, 306. 
 Invidia de, 266; privata, 266; pub¬ 
 lica, 269. 
 
 Juvenes et senes comparantur, 343. 
 Juvenum et senum mixtura bonum in 
 negotiis, 343. 
 
 Juventute et senectute de, 343. 
 
 Laude de, 365 ; laus virtutis reflexio, 
 365. 
 
 Libri legendi sunt, quo animo 1 361. 
 
 Magistratibus et diguitatibus de, 
 
 271. 
 
 Maris dominum quantum valet, 322. 
 
 Mathematicorum et scolasticorum stu¬ 
 dia medicinae sunt, 362. 
 
 Mechanicae artes animis militaribus 
 contrariae, 319. 
 
 Mora de, 299. 
 
 Morte de, 253. 
 
 Multum incola fuit anima mea, 336. 
 
 Natura potens vincitur per gradus, 
 335; subito vindicare optimum, 335. 
 
 Negotiatio omnis eo spectat, aut ut 
 detegat aliquid, aut ut efficiat, 357. 
 
 Negotiatione de, 356; melius nego¬ 
 tiari per verbas quam per literas, 
 per intercessionem quam per seip- 
 sum, 356. 
 
 Negotiorum tres partes, 306. 
 
 Negotiis de expediendis, 305. 
 
 Nobilium in Anglia famulitia ampla 
 ad potentiam militarem conducit, 
 318. 
 
 Nobiles non nimis multiplicandi, 317. 
 
 Nobilitate de, 278. 
 
 Nuptiis et ccelibater de, 264. 
 
 Odor florum in aere gratior quam in 
 manu, 351. 
 
 Ornamenta rationalia, 213. 
 
 Opportunitas ante omnia in petitioni¬ 
 bus valent, 360. 
 
 Opportunitatas plures faciet, quam in¬ 
 veniet prudens, 365. 
 
 Oaracelsus, 95. 
 
 Oratoris quare actio supra nobiliores 
 partes extollitur, 274. 
 
 Ordo et distributio, celeritatis vita, 
 306. 
 
 “ Padre commune,” vox suspiciosa, 
 363. 
 
 Palatium regium, descriptio, 347. 
 
 Parmenis, 26\ 
 
 Parentibus et liberis, de, 263 
 
 Petitionum concinnatores generales 
 perniciosum hominum genus, 360. 
 
 Plantatio regionum similis plantationi 
 sylvarum populus, qui in coloniam 
 sumatur, 328 ; genus esculentorum, 
 328 ; pecudes et aves, 328 ; merces 
 nativas, 328. 
 
 Plantationibus populorum et coloniis, 
 de, 327. 
 
 Plebs ex tribus generibus, constare 
 debet, 320. 
 
 Plutus a Jove aut a Plutone missus, 
 331. 
 
 “ Poco di matto,” quod habeat, Itali 
 notant, 338. 
 
 Proditor in factionibus plerumque rem 
 obtinet, 363. 
 
388 
 
 INDEX. 
 
 Professionibus lucra ex, 331. 
 
 Prudentia quae sibi sapit de, 303. 
 
 Prudentia apparente de, 306. 
 
 Pulchritudine de, 344. 
 
 Pulchritudinis portio praecipua, quam 
 pictura representare non potest, 
 Apelles et, 345. 
 
 Ramus, Pierre, 95. 
 
 Receptores petitionum diversi, 359. 
 
 Repetitiones, quando jucturaet quando 
 lucium temporis, 306. 
 
 Sacchari excoctor primus in Canariis, 
 322. 
 
 Seditionibus et turbis, de, 279. 
 
 Seditionum prognostica, 279 ; mate¬ 
 ria, 281; causae, 282; remediae 
 contra, eos, 282. 
 
 Severinus Petrus, 97. 
 
 “ Sbirrarias,” munera lectorum et 
 scribarum verbum usurpant cardi¬ 
 nales Romani, 366. 
 
 Solitudine, de, 306. 
 
 Spectatores plus vident quam Lusores, 
 358. 
 
 Studiis, de, et lectione librorum, 360 ; 
 aut voluptas, aut ornamentum, aut 
 subsidium, 360. 
 
 Sumptibus, de, 314. 
 
 Supplicantibus, de, 359. 
 
 Superstitio nostris temporibus con¬ 
 suetudinis vires exequant, 336. 
 
 Superstitione, de, 287. 
 
 Superstitionis et atheismi comparatio, 
 287. 
 
 Tiberium inter, et Augustus Caesarem 
 discrimen, 260. 
 
 Timothei Clausula, “ Atque in hoc 
 nullae evant fortunae partes,” 339. 
 
 Turbis, et seditionibus, de, 279. 
 
 Usura sive fcenore, de, 339; invec¬ 
 tivae in foeneratores, 339 ; foenoris 
 incommoda et commoda, 340 ; res¬ 
 publicae omnes usures tolerarunt, 
 341. 
 
 Valetudinis, de regimine, 323. 
 
 Veritate, de, 251 ; philosophica, 251 ; 
 thelogica, 252 ; in civilibus negotiis, 
 252. 
 
 Vindicta de, 258. 
 
 Virtutes quaedam occultae pariunt for¬ 
 tunam, 338. 
 
 Virtutum exiguarum perpetua usus, 
 364. 
 
 Virtus optima sine ornamentis, 344. 
 
 Viri perpulebri et magni, 344. 
 
 Vulgi sub captum virtutes, complures 
 excellentes non cadunt, 365. 
 
 Vultus pellucidi pluribus quibus corda 
 sunt obscura, 300. 
 
 Vultus et gestus, non nullorum instar 
 versus, 364. 
 
 E .NI) OF THE FIFTEENTH VOLUME. 
 
 C. Whittingham, l ooks Court, Chancery Lane