Francis Bacon

Selected Philosophical Works

Francis Bacon

Selected Philosophical Works

Edited, with Introduction, by

ROSE-MARY SARGENT

Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.

Indianapolis/Cambridge

Francis Bacon: 1561–1626

Copyright © 1999 by Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.

All rights reserved

Printed in the United States of America
12  11  10  09  08                2  3  4  5  6

For further information, please address
Hackett Publishing Company, Inc.
P. O. Box 44937
Indianapolis, Indiana 46244–0937
www.hackettpublishing.com

Cover design by Listenberger Design & Associates
Interior design by Meera Dash

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data
Bacon, Francis, 1561–1626.

[Selections. English. 1999]
Selected philosophical works / edited, with introduction, by

Rose-Mary Sargent.
           p.          cm.

Includes bibliographical references and index.

ISBN 0-87220-470-7 (pbk.).—ISBN 0-87220-471-5 (cloth)
1. Philosophy. 2. Science—Philosophy. 3. Natural history.

I. Sargent, Rose-Mary. II. Title.

B1155 1999

192—DC21

99-28713

      CIP

ISBN-13: 978-0-87220-471-3 (cloth)
ISBN-13: 978-0-87220-470-6 (pbk.)

ePub ISBN: 978-1-60384-578-6

GENERAL INTRODUCTION

Francis Bacon (1561–1626) led a complicated life. He was born at the time of religious reformation, political upheaval, and the intellectual and artistic flourishing of late Renaissance Europe. He became a lawyer, statesman, essayist, historian, and philosopher, who not only exemplified the values and virtues that he had inherited from the Renaissance tradition but also ushered in early conceptions of modernity. It is not possible to do justice to all of the facets of Bacon’s life here. What follows is a brief sketch of his legal and political career, a general account of his philosophical project, and a summary of the historical significance of his works through the twentieth century. For further reading on particular aspects of his life and thought, parenthetical references have been made to authors whose works can be found in the Selected Bibliography at the end of this volume. For general accounts of Bacon’s life, see the biography written by his chaplain, William Rawley, as well as the twentieth-century biographical studies by Anderson, Coquillette, Jardine and Stewart, Jones, and Zagorin. There are also some helpful collections of essays that cover a wide range of Bacon’s interests edited by Peltonen, Sessions, and Vickers.

LIFE AND PROFESSIONAL CAREER

Bacon was the youngest son of Nicholas Bacon, the Lord Keeper of the Great Seal under Queen Elizabeth I, and his second wife, Ann Cooke, a well-educated and devout Calvinist, who was the sister-in-law of William Cecil, Lord Burghley. When he was twelve, Francis and his older brother Anthony began a two-year residence at Trinity College, Cambridge, studying under the tutelage of Dr. John Whitgift, a future archbishop of Canterbury. In 1576 the two brothers were admitted for the study of law to Gray’s Inn, London; however, in order to ensure that Francis would have more practical experience, the following year his father arranged for him to accompany the English Ambassador Sir Amias Paulet to France. On the untimely death of his father in 1579, Bacon returned home and learned that he had only a slight inheritance and would thus have to acquire a profession to earn his livelihood. He took up residence in his father’s old rooms at Gray’s Inn and began to study the law in earnest.

His legal career began well. In 1582 he qualified for admittance to the bar as utter barrister, and in 1586 he was made bencher at Gray’s Inn. In 1588 he was appointed as one of four lawyers from Gray’s Inn to a prestigious committee of sixteen lawyers who were charged with the review of statutes for the upcoming Parliament. During this period he wrote a number of legal tracts and also contributed to popular masques, which were dramatic performances of dance, song, and dialogue with actors masked and dressed in costume, that were put on at the Inns of Court for festive occasions. In the Gesta Grayorum masque for Christmas 1594, for example, he contributed a speech on law reform, suggesting the need for more simplicity and certainty in the legal system. In 1596 he wrote his first important legal work (not published until 1631), Maxims of the Law, which contained detailed analysis and argument on how the law should be restructured (for his legal works, see Cardwell, Coquillette, Hogan and Schwartz, Kocher, McCabe, and Shapiro).

While pursuing his legal career, Bacon also embarked on an active political life. In 1581 he began government service as a member of the House of Commons for a district in Cornwall and would continue representing various areas in Commons until late in life, when he finally became a member of the House of Lords. In 1584 he wrote his first political tract, A Letter of Advice to Queen Elizabeth, wherein he discussed the danger that the presence of Catholics in England posed for the government. In 1589 he extended his critique to what he perceived to be the biases of both Anglicans and Puritans in An Advertisement Touching the Controversies of the Church of England. As these works indicate, it had become apparent by this time that the multiplication of religious sects that was begun during the Reformation often led to social unrest and thus had important political consequences. As Bacon wrote, England had become “a kingdom laboring with intestine faction on account of religion” (Spedding, vol. 6, p. 309). Although Queen Elizabeth’s father, Henry VIII, had avoided serious upheaval after his break from the Roman Catholic Church, his other daughter, Mary, who preceded Elizabeth to the throne, had created turmoil by persecuting Protestants in her failed attempt to return England to Catholicism. When Elizabeth succeeded Mary, she at first sought limited toleration, but as the years went by, she found it politically necessary to demand conformity and was thus instrumental in establishing the doctrines and rites of the Anglican Church.

Throughout the 1590s, Bacon sought to secure a political position in Elizabeth’s court and thus improve his financial position partly by using the help and influence of his close friend, and the Queen’s personal favorite, the Earl of Essex. These efforts were unsuccessful, however, perhaps largely because Bacon had lost the Queen’s trust when he openly opposed the taxation policies that she set forth in her Triple Subsidy Bill of 1593. Bacon’s relationship with Essex also provided one of the unfortunate events in his life that would subsequently lead historians to question his moral character. In 1599 Essex fell out of favor with Elizabeth after he experienced a serious defeat in Ireland. In 1601, in an ill-advised attempt to rally citizen support for his cause, Essex entered London with two hundred armed followers. This action, which was seen as a rebellion, was quickly suppressed. Essex was arrested for treason, and Bacon was called by Elizabeth to serve as the Queen’s advocate in the legal prosecution of the case. Essex was convicted and executed shortly thereafter. In 1601 Bacon published an account of the case in A Declaration of the Practices and Treasons Attempted and Committed by Robert, late Earl of Essex (vol. 9); then a few years later, in his 1604 work An Apology in Certain Imputations Concerning the late Earl of Essex, he attempted to justify his actions to the Earl’s family and friends by arguing that his was the morally correct position because he had put his duty to Queen Elizabeth ahead of his personal affection for his friend (vol. 10).

Despite what some have found to be his betrayal of Essex, Bacon still failed to win Elizabeth’s favor. On the death of Elizabeth in 1603 and the succession of James VI of Scotland to the throne as James I of England, Bacon’s political and financial fortunes began to improve. To commemorate James’s succession, Bacon wrote A Brief Discourse Touching the Happy Union of the Kingdoms of England and Scotland (vol. 10), and in July of that year he was rewarded with a knighthood—although this honor was mitigated by the fact that he was one of three hundred men knighted on the same occasion. In 1604, Bacon acted as the crown’s advocate of union in sessions of Parliament, he advised James on the particular religious problems that had plagued England, and he published a tract on Certain Considerations Touching the better Pacification and Edification of the Church of England (vol. 10). Despite this new activity and recognition, Bacon still felt the need to improve his financial situation; therefore, in 1606 he entered into an arranged marriage with a teenage heiress, Alice Barnham, who was thirty years his junior. Unfortunately, the marriage proved to be childless and unhappy.

Finally, in 1607, Bacon achieved a more solid and lucrative position when he was appointed Solicitor General. During his tenure in this office, he wrote a number of legal decisions and arguments of law, some of which were quite significant, like the Post Nati case that settled the issue of inheritance after the unification of England and Scotland (vol. 7). He also wrote and delivered numerous speeches, advices to the King, and letters, some of which were published (vols. 12, 13, 14). In 1613 he began a three-year post as Attorney General, and in 1616 he was appointed Privy Counsellor to the King. In 1617 he ascended to his late father’s position, Lord Keeper of the Seal, and a year later he surpassed his father when he became Lord Chancellor, the most prestigious legal position under the Crown. In 1618 he was also made a peer of the realm, taking the title Baron Verulam, and assumed his seat in the House of Lords. In 1621, at the age of sixty, he was elevated once more when he became Viscount St. Albans.

After so many early years of struggle, Bacon achieved the height of political and financial success in a rather rapid series of appointments under James I, but his fall would be even more rapid. In March 1621, two men who had lost cases before Bacon at Chancery appeared in the House of Commons and brought charges of bribery against him. Although Bacon denied that he had intentionally taken “bribes,” he did admit that he had taken money while cases were pending and therefore had been negligent in his office. On 3 May 1621, after pleading guilty, he was removed from office by the High Court of Parliament (Bacon’s answers to the impeachment charges against him and his confession are in vol. 14). Although his punishment could have been severe, James arranged for most of the penalties to be limited. Bacon was ordered to be imprisoned at the discretion of the King (which turned out to be for three days only), fined £40,000 (which he was never required to pay), forbidden to come within the verge (twelve miles) of the court (the prohibition was rescinded in 1622), barred from state office, and forbidden to sit in Parliament. (For details on Bacon’s political theory and the intrigues surrounding his impeachment, see Coquillette, Epstein, Farrington, Martin, and Peltonen.)

Bacon retired to Gorhambury, his country estate near St. Albans. Although his legal and political career had come to an end, he continued to be intellectually active. He turned his attention to several literary and philosophical projects that he had started in the 1590s at a time when he believed that he could not gain the favor of Queen Elizabeth and thus had little hope for a political career. Among his literary works, the most famous and popular during his lifetime was his Essays or Counsels Civil or Moral, ten of which he published in 1597, followed by an expanded edition of thirty-eight essays in 1612. During his retirement he completed a third edition that contained twenty new essays as well as extensive revisions of the earlier ones. From some of the titles included in this work—such as “Of Truth,” “Of Death,” “Of Atheism,” “Of Seditions,” “Of Nobility,” “Of Gardens,” and “Of Study”—the breadth of Bacon’s interests can be seen (vol. 6). In addition, this work is historically significant because it introduced into the English language the new prose style of the essay that had been developed in France by Montaigne. Another primarily literary work also contained advice and admonitions. In his 1609 Wisdom of the Ancients, he described a collection of classical fables and gave his own philosophical, political, or moral interpretations of them. He saw the fable of Cassandra, for example, as a cautionary tale against giving advice too freely (see Vickers for Bacon’s literary accomplishments).

The first work that Bacon completed after his impeachment, The History of the Reign of King Henry VII, was published in 1622 and dedicated to Prince Charles, the eldest son of James I (vol. 6). James urged Bacon to follow up this work by writing a history of Henry VIII; also, Bacon had plans to write a history of England. These works were never begun, however, because he became increasingly preoccupied with natural philosophy in his final years. Except for two light pieces composed during periods of ill health—a Translation of Certain Psalms into English Verse and a collection of witty sayings published as Apophthegms—Bacon’s time was devoted to the investigation of nature. Indeed, it was probably his philosophical interests that hastened his death. On 9 April 1626, he died at the home of the Earl of Arundel from a respiratory illness that was apparently aggravated by a chill he had received while gathering snow for an experiment designed to test the ability of cold to preserve the flesh of fowl.

PHILOSOPHICAL WORKS

Bacon’s earliest discussion of his philosophical project can be found in a 1592 letter to his uncle Lord Burghley, in which he wrote about his desire to take “all knowledge to be my province” (vol. 8, p. 109). Throughout the next thirty years, he worked at perfecting his plan for a general reform of learning that included political, social, legal, and moral philosophy as well as natural philosophy, all of which would have been categorized by Bacon as “sciences” (from the Latin for knowledge, scientia). His plan, ultimately titled “The Great Instauration,” was to be composed of six parts (see Section II of this book). In the first part, “The Divisions of the Sciences” would be constructed in order to make inquiry more systematic. The second part was “The New Organon; or Directions concerning the Interpretation of Nature,” in which Bacon promised to develop the appropriate methods required for instituting the new learning. The third part involved the compilation of “The Phenomena of the Universe; or a Natural and Experimental History for the Foundation of Philosophy.” The bulk of Bacon’s philosophical works represents contributions to these first three parts, although he did at times give passing examples of the last three parts that he had outlined in The Great Instauration as “The Ladder of the Intellect”; “The Forerunners; or Anticipations of the New Philosophy”; and “The New Philosophy; or Active Science.”

His work on this philosophical project was somewhat erratic. From the early 1600s, a few Latin manuscripts survived, parts of which would later be incorporated into his more mature works. The first publication related to the instauration was his Two Books of the Advancement and Proficiency of Learning, published in 1605 (in Section I). In the first book, he defended learning against those who maintained that it could be religiously, politically, or socially dangerous. The second book, a precursor to the first part of the Great Instauration, contained a preliminary catalogue, or inventory, of extant knowledge. As we have seen, after 1607 Bacon had become busy with his various political positions. Although he found time to compose a few Latin manuscripts relating to his plan (translated in Farrington) and to publish the Wisdom of the Ancients, some of the fables in which included lessons on natural philosophy, most of his time was spent in revising his great instauration. By 1620, however, he had apparently despaired of finishing the entire work. In order to leave some outline of his plan, he published The New Organon, presented explicitly as the second part of his project, together with prefatory material and an outline belonging to The Great Instauration. In addition, he appended the Preparative towards a Natural and Experimental History that represented the third part of his project (in Section II).

After his impeachment, he devoted most of his time to working on the third part of the instauration. In 1622 he published his Natural and Experimental History for the Foundation of Philosophy, with a Preface and Rule that gave slightly different directions for compiling histories than those contained in the earlier Preparative. He also gave the titles of six natural histories that he hoped to publish, one a month, the first of which, a History of the Winds, was published as part of the volume. Of the other histories listed there, only a History of Life and Death would be published in his lifetime (1623). His History of Dense and Rare, which was significant for its early use of quantitative methods and his discussion of the difficulties associated with making precise measurements, was left incomplete and published posthumously by Rawley in 1658. Bacon also compiled a different type of history, composed of one thousand observations and experiments taken primarily from the works of other authors and arranged in ten “centuries” of one hundred reports each. This work was published by Rawley the year after Bacon’s death as the Sylva Sylvarum or A Natural History in Ten Centuries. (See Section III for selections from some of the aforementioned histories.)

Bacon also produced a more complete version of the first stage of the instauration, Of the Dignity and Advancement of Learning, which was published in 1623 and is commonly known by its short Latin title of De Augmentis. For this work, he had the first book of the Advancement of Learning, which originally had been published in English, translated into Latin, and he expanded the catalogue of learning from the second book into a much more detailed discussion of the divisions of the sciences in eight books (summarized in Section I). A final work, the New Atlantis, was published by Rawley with the Sylva edition of 1627. This curious work was modeled on both the utopian and the travel literature of Bacon’s day. Although not technically a contribution to any of the particular stages of The Great Instauration, this fable about a secret island kingdom presents Bacon’s optimistic vision of the benefits to be achieved within an enlightened, scientifically advanced society and thus could be seen as a sketch of what the final stage of the instauration would be like (Section IV).

Before turning directly to a discussion of the general themes contained in Bacon’s philosophical works, it is necessary to say something about his religious views, although it will not be possible to do so in the depth that they rightly deserve (see Barnouw, Briggs, and Jones). Bacon’s desire for religious harmony originated not only from the concerns that he had as a statesman but also because he knew that a peaceful society is necessary for the leisure required to pursue philosophical interests. Religious issues created another type of problem for learning as well, however. A somewhat common argument was made in Bacon’s day that the type of inquiry he advocated was explicitly forbidden by Scripture. In support of this position, critics pointed to the Genesis story of the fall of man as having been precipitated by eating the forbidden fruit from the tree of knowledge in the Garden of Eden. In both his Advancement of Learning and The Great Instauration, Bacon argued that these critics had misinterpreted the Genesis story. Nonetheless, he appreciated the need to show not only that natural philosophy was religiously safe but also that it could be religiously sanctioned. He used a number of arguments to do so, two of which were among the most popular employed by natural philosophers of the seventeenth century.

First Bacon argued that in the division of learning, one should keep the studies of science and religion separate in order to avoid conflict. In The New Organon, he warned against an “unwholesome mixture of things human and divine” because it would produce “not only a fantastic philosophy but also a heretical religion” (Book One, aphorism 65). Secondly, he maintained that, although separate, the two studies could also be complementary by using a metaphor that likened the world to a book. In his Advancement of Learning, for example, he argued that philosophy could be “an effectual inducement to the exaltation of the glory of God” who gave us “two books or volumes to study … first the Scriptures, revealing the will of God, and then the creatures expressing his power” (page 34). In effect, he argued that philosophers had a religious duty to study nature as God’s creation. His belief that scientific investigation was biblically sanctioned can also be seen in the prayer that he used to end the Preface of The Great Instauration, where he expressed the hope that “if we labor in thy works with the sweat of our brows, thou will make us partakers of thy vision and thy Sabbath” (page 85).

Bacon’s discussion of the relation between science and religion represents one of the ways in which his works signaled the beginning of a modern era in philosophy. Also representative of modernity is the rejection of traditional learning, particularly the call for the overthrow of the Aristotelian philosophy that dominated the curriculum of the medieval universities. In the dedication of Book Two of the Advancement of Learning, Bacon gave a detailed criticism of the university system, and in the Preface to The Great Instauration, he accused the schools of having “usurped a kind of dictatorship in the sciences” with the consequence that “philosophy and intellectual sciences” had been “fruitful of controversies but barren of works” (pages 71, 69). The revolutionary rhetoric of Bacon’s day needs to be taken with some caution, however. The Aristotelian philosophy of the Middle Ages, although loosely based on Aristotle’s writings, had become highly technical and speculative. As Rawley noted, although Bacon “fell into a dislike of the philosophy of Aristotle” while a student at Cambridge, it was “not for the worthlessness of the author, to whom he would ever ascribe all high attributes, but for the unfruitfulness of the way” and the idleness of the speculations (vol. 1, p. 2). In his letter to Burghley cited before, Bacon expressed his desire to improve philosophy by bringing in “industrious observations, grounded conclusions, and profitable inventions and discoveries.” He noted that this plan, “whether it be curiosity, or vain glory, or nature, or (if one take it favorably) philanthropia, is so fixed in my mind as it cannot be removed” (vol. 8, p. 109).

Bacon did not make any profitable, technological inventions or discoveries of his own (see Rees and Vickers). Despite the fact that he failed to contribute to scientific knowledge per se, however, he did contribute greatly to the methodological innovations of his century. As the leading propagandist for the new science, he provided the rhetoric, the excitement, and the vision needed for a revolution in learning. In doing so, he also gave the earliest, most extensive, and most detailed discussion of the search for a new productive type of knowledge and the methods that could best be used to achieve the knowledge. His recurrent theme would be one of progress as the acquisition of useful and beneficial knowledge through organized research. The following brief overview of his philosophy focuses primarily on these two themes—knowledge and method—particularly on how Bacon contributed to the complex ways in which they were to be transformed.

1. Knowledge

In the Aristotelian tradition, explanations of natural bodies were given by reference to matter, privation, and form, the latter of which was said to provide individual portions of matter with the differing qualities of particular bodies. In addition, to explain the coming into being of a body, four sources of change were required: the material cause out of which the change comes; the formal cause that provides the specifying or defining factor; the agent or efficient cause that is the initiator of the change; and the final cause that provides the purpose (telos) for which a thing was said to be made. By Bacon’s time, the formal cause had become prominent. In place of natural investigations, abstract reasoning had produced some rather metaphysical accounts by which the physical properties of bodies were explained by reference to the one substantial form of a body that was said to give it its necessary and essential characteristics. In opposition to this project, Bacon suggested that philosophers should actually “dissect nature” in order to discover the hidden physical processes within bodies that produce their manifest qualities. Bacon’s discussion of this idea reveals his indebtedness to the tradition in medical chemistry that sought a “true anatomy” of bodies “by means of distillations and other modes of analysis” (Section II, Book Two, aphorism 7). But he went on to insist that the analysis had to take place not only by fire, “but by reasoning and true induction,” which represents as well a return to the ancient atomistic philosophy of Democritus that had been explicitly rejected by Aristotle.

As early as the Wisdom of the Ancients, Bacon showed atomistic leanings by his references to Democritus in a number of the myths. In his interpretation of the myth of Cupid, for example, he wrote approvingly of “the natural motion of the atom; which is indeed the original and unique force that constitutes and fashions all things out of matter” (vol. 6, p. 729, see also p. 723). Bacon had to be careful here, however, because the ancient atomists had incorporated an atheistic doctrine into their natural philosophy, especially in their theory that the universe had been created by the chance encounter of atoms in a void. By the time of The New Organon, Bacon had become more circumspect. He maintained that when he spoke of Democritus, he did not intend to refer to the “doctrine of atoms, which implies the hypothesis of a vacuum” but “only to real particles, such as really exist” (Book Two, aphorism 8). This could be seen as a precursor to what would come to be known later in the century as the new mechanical, or corpuscular, philosophy that sought to explain the qualities of bodies by reference to the motion of the least parts of matter. But the case is not quite that clear. In his search for physical explanations of nature, Bacon rejected Aristotle’s conception of final causality altogether, and he also rejected the importance of the material and agent causes, describing them as “merely vehicles, or causes which convey the Form in certain cases” (Book Two, aphorism 3). But he retained the idea of the “Form” of a body as that which gave it its defining characteristics. The precise meaning of “Form” in Bacon’s philosophy has been the source of much controversy and debate. What is clear is that he did not mean to refer to the substantial forms of the schools when he used the term (see Alexander, Emerton, Hesse, Larsen, Perez-Ramos, and Rees).

In Book One of The New Organon, Bacon wrote that “forms are figments of the human mind, unless you will call those laws of action forms” (Book One, aphorism 51). In Book Two, when he began his more positive account of the type of knowledge to be acquired by his methods, he wrote that the “work and aim of human knowledge” should be the discovery of “the Form, or true specific difference” of a body (Book Two, aphorism 1), adding in the next aphorism that “it is this law, with its clauses, that I mean when I speak of Forms—a name which I the rather adopt because it has grown into use and become familiar” (Book Two, aphorism 2). Just as his atomism should not be equated with our ideas of such entities, so also one should be careful not to equate Bacon’s laws with the modern conception of a natural or mechanical law. Whatever the form of a body might mean, it is clear that it was intended to provide a causal explanation for a body’s properties, which in turn complemented his ideal of useful knowledge. Forms, said Bacon, “touch the deeper boundaries of things,” and “from the discovery of Forms, therefore, results truth in speculation and freedom in operation” (Book Two, aphorism 3). Whereas the aim of human knowledge is to discover the form, “the work and aim of human power” is “to generate and superinduce a new nature” (Book Two, aphorism 1). If the form of a body is that which produces its defining characteristics, then a knowledge of forms would be necessary in order to produce particular properties in natural bodies. In The New Organon, for example, his investigation into the nature of heat led him to conclude that heat is a type of motion, “expansive, restrained, and acting in its strife upon the smaller particles of bodies,” and on the basis of this finding, he advised that the rule for operation would be as follows: “if in any natural body you can excite a dilating or expanding motion, and can so repress this motion and turn it back upon itself, that the dilation shall not proceed equably, but have its way in one part and be counteracted in another, you will undoubtedly generate heat” (Book Two, aphorism 20).

Bacon’s belief that “knowledge is power” explains in part why he insisted on the need for joining together theory and practice—the contemplation of traditional philosophy with the action of the mechanical arts. As he had argued in the 1594 Masque at Gray’s Inn, learning should lead to the “conquest of the works of nature” (vol. 8, pp. 334–35). But his was not to be merely a technologically driven science. Bacon wrote that although “it be true that I am principally in pursuit of works and the active department of the sciences … I well know that axioms once rightly discovered will carry whole troops of works along with them” (page 81). Knowledge-producing experiments, which were called “experiments of light,” must be made prior to “experiments of fruit” because “human knowledge and human power, do really meet in one; and it is from ignorance of causes that operation fails” (page 84). Conversely, however, once theory is put into practice, the production of successful effects can in turn serve as a sign for the truth of theory; “fruits and works are as it were sponsors and sureties for the truths of philosophies” (Book One, aphorism 73). Bacon repeated this early expression of the modern conception of the use of experimental testing for the justification of theoretical claims in a more straightforward manner when he made this declaration: “Truth, therefore, and utility are here the very same things. And works themselves are of greater value as pledges of truth than as contributing to the comforts of life” (Book One, aphorism 124).

As with other aspects of Bacon’s thought, his discussion of knowledge and power is not a simple one. In his Advancement of Learning, when he turned to the topic of the dignity of knowledge, he began with an account of the creation of the world in which “we see a double emanation of virtue from God: the one referring more properly to power, the other to wisdom” (page 30). Later, in The New Organon, when he argued for the priority of knowledge over works, he suggested that “the divine wisdom and order must be our pattern.” Since on the “first day” God “created light only,” philosophers should “first endeavor to discover true causes and axioms; and seek for experiments of Light, not for experiments of Fruit” (Book One, aphorism 70). The acquisition of useful knowledge also represented a religious mission of another type. The philanthropy that he discussed in his letter to Burghley, influenced in part by his mother’s Calvinist leanings, led Bacon to place great emphasis on the performance of good works. The new science was meant for the benefit of others and for the improvement of human health and welfare, and thus he urged his readers to “cultivate truth in charity” (page 74). These religious overtones came together in his fable of the New Atlantis, where the Fathers of “Solomon’s House,” the scientific institution of the island named after the biblical king, were responsible for dispensing useful knowledge and practical inventions for the benefit of citizens and strangers alike.

Of course, power also has obvious political, economic, and imperialist overtones, and Bacon, as a statesman, did not hesitate to point out how advances in scientific learning could aid the government. In the Advancement of Learning, he noted how great ages that are “renowned for arms are likewise most admired for learning” (page 10); moreover, from his own day, he could point to how technological advances in warfare, shipping, and mining had enhanced the political and economic power of those in possession of such knowledge. In addition, not only would the military and economic fortunes of a country be improved, but also “learning does make the minds of men gentle, generous, and pliant to government” and thus encourages better citizenship (page 13). The role of the enhancement and use of political power in all of Bacon’s works, and particularly in his New Atlantis, has been hotly debated in this century (see Box, Farrington, Martin, Peltonen, Weinberger, and Whitney). Surely Bacon’s project was at least in part politically motivated. It is also the case, however, that he realized that his vast and complex method represented a “royal work” that included “much labor and expense” (vol. 1, p. 111). In order to succeed, he would need government support and funding, and thus it was expedient for him to show the monarchs how his project could serve to increase their political power.

2. Method

Bacon’s methodological dictates are contained primarily in The New Organon, the title of which was meant to indicate his intention of replacing the original logical works of Aristotle that were commonly referred to as Aristotle’s Organon. The first thing that Bacon discussed was the need to clear away the errors of the past and to recognize the causes of error, which he attributed to four classes of “idols” or “false notions” of the human mind that hinder the acquisition of truth, so that we may be “forewarned of the danger” and fortified “against their assaults” (Book One, aphorism 38). Another way to guard against introducing new errors into philosophy was to avoid hasty speculation by constraining the understanding from making “anticipations” about nature and to construct instead solid “interpretations” by slowly rising from particulars to more general truths. The purpose of this inductive method was to “command nature in action” in opposition to the deductive method of the schools, modeled on Aristotle’s syllogism, that was intended merely “to overcome an opponent in argument” (page 77). Later, in De Augmentis, Bacon explained that “knowledges are as pyramids, whereof history and experience are the basis. And so of natural philosophy the basis is natural history; the stage next the basis is physic; the stage next the vertical point is metaphysic” (vol. 4, pp. 361–62). (Among the numerous studies on Bacon’s method, see especially, Cohen, Ducasse, Hesse, Horton, McMullin, Perez-Ramos, Rossi, Shapiro, Urbach, and Vickers.)

The second and third parts of The Great Instauration are not separate stages of inquiry. Rather, they must be pursued in unison because the histories of part three provide the materials on which the logic of part two operates. Although the compilation of histories is required in order to educe axioms, the process is not to proceed by a simple enumeration, which “concludes at hazard, is always liable to be upset by a contradictory instance, takes into account only what is known and ordinary, and leads to no result” (page 78). A true induction “must analyze nature by proper rejections and exclusions” (Book One, aphorism 105). In Book Two of The New Organon, Bacon provided an example of how inquiry could proceed in the series of aphorisms (11 through 20) concerned with his investigation of the nature of heat. First he constructed a “table of presence” that included all cases where heat was present—in the rays of the sun, for example. Then he constructed a “table of absence” where heat is not present even though the cases might be similar—in the rays of other celestial bodies such as the moon. Finally he constructed a “table of degrees” intended to provide cases of the different degree or intensity of heat in different substances. After the tables are constructed, inductive reasoning begins by making an attempt to “find such a nature as is always present or absent with the given nature, and always increases and decreases with it” (aphorism 15). After a review of the tables and a preliminary rejection of initially suspected forms is made, Bacon thought it “expedient” for the understanding to be allowed to make an “Interpretation of Nature in the affirmative way” concerning the cause of heat in bodies (aphorism 20).

Unlike hasty anticipations, this “First Vintage” or “indulgence of the understanding” represents a well-grounded speculation, which in turn gives rise to ideas for further trials that could be used for testing and correcting the original hypothesis. Bacon was not the first to understand or use this testing role of experiment, but he did popularize the idea that “the nature of things betrays itself more readily under the vexations of art than in its natural freedom” (page 82, see LeGrand, Newman, and Perez-Ramos). He recognized as well, however, that the performance and the interpretation of experiments are neither simple nor automatic. Bacon insisted that the experimentalist is not a mere empiric concerned only with the production of effects, such as the chemists who, he claimed, tended to restrict themselves to a few “petty tasks” and “pursued a kind of wandering inquiry, without any regular system of operations” (page 72). In contrast to this type of practice, Bacon wrote, “our steps must be guided by a clue, and the whole way from the very first perception of the senses must be laid out upon a sure plan” (page 73). Results must be produced by the conjunction of knowledge and skill. As Bacon advised, we must establish “forever a true and lawful marriage between the empirical and the rational faculty” (page 74).

Bacon also provided a lengthy discussion of the variety of experimental trials that could aid the natural philosopher. At the end of Book Two of The New Organon (summarized in Section II), he listed twenty-seven types of experiment that he said had special prerogative because they were useful “either in the informative part or in the operative, or in both.” They could “assist either the senses or the understanding,” or they could “point out, or measure, or facilitate practice” (Book Two, aphorism 52). Of these twenty-seven Prerogative Instances, one was destined to become quite controversial. Aphorism 36 contains a discussion of the “instantia crucis,” translated by Spedding and Ellis as an “Instance of the Fingerpost,” which could also be translated as an “Instance of the Cross,” because either expression may be used to refer to signs posted at crossroads and used to indicate direction. About this instance, Bacon noted that we might meet one accidentally “but for the most part they are new, and are expressedly and designedly sought for and applied.” When one cannot decide between two or more possible causes, this type of experiment would have “high authority” because it could be designed to settle “the course of interpretation.” In the final aphorism of Book Two, he added that these instances aided the understanding “by guarding it against false forms and causes” (Book Two, aphorism 52). Later, in his Natural and Experimental History, he referred to these as “Crucial Instances by which the understanding may determine the true causes of things” (page 214).

Despite the fact that he had listed the Prerogative Instances as only one of nine helps for the understanding, The New Organon ends rather abruptly with his summary of these instances (Book Two, aphorism 52). In the Preparative appended to the incomplete New Organon, Bacon discussed other types of experiments from among the “mechanical and illiberal” arts that he thought would be the most useful for natural philosophy, particularly those in which the material composition of a body is altered in order to bring about a change in form, such as those performed in “agriculture, cookery, chemistry, dyeing; the manufacture of glass, enamel, sugar, gunpowder, artificial fires, paper, and the like” (page 195). Chemical analyses, distillations, and compositions could be quite informative, yet as we’ve seen, Bacon was critical of the chemists’ methods. He was also critical of the attitude by which they either conceived of themselves as solitary magi working in complete secrecy or envisioned collaboration as that which would ensue from the meeting of a few select illuminati (vol. 5, p. 191). In the place of such individual or quasi-collaborative efforts, a truly cooperative enterprise had to be instituted that would leave “little to the acuteness and strength of wits” and instead place “all wits and understandings nearly on a level” (Book One, aphorism 61). Unlike those who retained a traditional philosophical emphasis on the power of individual reasoning, Bacon sought to institute a method for the investigation of nature based on the cooperative efforts of a large workforce. Two other practical inventions, printing and navigation, had contributed to the possibility for a cooperative research effort by producing an “openness of the world” and disclosing “multitudes of experiments, and a mass of natural history” (vol. 3, p. 476; cf. Book One, aphorisms 84 and 110). Bacon argued that to make the best use of this situation, the “great storehouse of facts should be accumulated” and added that because “the materials on which the intellect has to work are so widely spread, one must employ factors and merchants to go everywhere in search of them and bring them in” (vol. 4, pp. 251–52).

Once gathered, this experience had to be compiled into organized natural histories that could be printed and distributed throughout the learned world and thus could foster communication and the free exchange of ideas and information. As early as his advice to Elizabeth I in the 1590s, he had been urging the establishment of institutions that would advance this goal, such as “a most perfect and general library,” containing all “books of worth” whether “ancient or modern, printed or manuscript, European or of other parts”; a botanical and zoological garden for the collection of all plants as well as rare beasts and birds; a museum collection of all things that had been produced “by exquisite art or engine”; and a laboratory “furnished with mills, instruments, furnaces and vessels” (vol. 8, pp. 334–35). He again presented the ideal of a government funded research effort in his dedication to James I of Book Two of the Advancement of Learning when he discussed the need for the establishment of “foundations and buildings, endowments with revenues, endowments with franchises and privileges, institutions and ordinances for government; all tending to quietness and privateness of life, and discharge of cares and troubles” (page 50). As he would later insist in The Great Instauration, all must “join in consultation for the common good” (page 75). Solomon’s House, as it was described in detail in the New Atlantis, provided the final glowing image of the benefits that would accrue to the public by the advances in learning made by a government sponsored and supported research project, even though the open and democratic “levelling of wits” that he had originally proposed would be replaced there by a sometimes secretive organization based on a hierarchical division of labor (Section IV).

Bacon sought a “total reconstruction of sciences, arts, and all human knowledge” (page 66). Although the preceding discussion has been limited primarily to natural philosophy, Bacon was clear that all “other sciences, logic, ethics, and politics should be carried on by this method.” He suggested that one could as well use induction to “form a history and table of discovery for anger, fear, shame, and the like; for matters political; and again for mental operations of memory, composition and division, judgment, and the rest, not less than for heat and cold, or light, or vegetation, or the like” (Book One, aphorism 127). The scope of Bacon’s project was ambitious, and many elements—such as his advocacy of a global method based on an active, collaborative, and critical approach to learning—are quite modern. The reader should use caution, however, and note well how many other elements, such as his adherence to traditions of lost civilizations and lost wisdom, are squarely within the intellectual world of the Renaissance. In addition, Bacon’s works exhibit a multifaceted richness of themes that are not always consistent. Tensions like those between knowledge and power, tradition and progress, openness and secrecy, have led to controversies over how best to interpret his works. These tensions are also representative of science today, however. They will be discussed more at the end of the next section after a brief survey of the changing assessments of Bacon’s significance and influence during the last four centuries.

HISTORICAL SIGNIFICANCE

Although Bacon never received state or popular support for his program, his rhetoric would set the agenda for the next generation of natural philosophers in England. In the two decades after Bacon’s death, a general reform of learning had taken place throughout Europe. Largely through the efforts of such seminal thinkers as René Descartes, Galileo, and William Harvey, the traditional scholastic philosophy was being gradually replaced by newer mechanical accounts of nature. In England this reform was accompanied by an emphasis on the practical implications of the new learning and on the ways in which knowledge could be used for charitable purposes. Bacon’s writings would play a central role in the programmatic works of these English reformers.

One of the first systematic attempts to bring to fruition Bacon’s vision of cooperative scientific research was that which occurred in London during the 1640s under the guiding force of Samuel Hartlib, a Prussian émigré, who envisioned a new educational system focused on practical studies such as glassmaking and metalworking. He also sought to encourage the free communication of information both through his correspondence with a number of European intellectuals and through his establishment in London of an informal circle of thinkers that included the evangelist John Dury, the poet and educational reformer John Milton, and the mechanical philosopher and chemist Kenelm Digby. According to Robert Boyle, one of the younger members of this circle who would become the most vocal proponent of Baconian methods, in order to benefit all of humanity, Hartlib had established this “new philosophical college, that values no knowledge, but as it hath a tendency to use” (Boyle, vol. 1, p. xxxiv). Although Hartlib received a small pension from the parliamentary regime that subsidized his efforts, some of his more ambitious schemes, such as the building that he hoped to have constructed at Lambeth Marsh “designed for the execution of my Lord Verulam’s New Atlantis,” were never realized.

During this same period, another group, not as public as Hartlib’s circle and composed primarily of mathematicians, astronomers, and medical doctors, began weekly meetings to discuss general “philosophical inquiries” (Boyle, vol. 1, p. xlii). A member of this group, John Wilkins, was appointed by Oliver Cromwell as warden of Wadham College, Oxford, in the late 1640s, and shortly thereafter other members joined him at the university. The Oxford group continued to meet weekly to discuss philosophical topics and gradually incorporated new participants, in particular, two of the younger members of Hartlib’s circle, Boyle and the physician William Petty. Like the other groups, the Oxford philosophers advocated charitable works and religious toleration, and they believed that the development of natural philosophy could help put an end to sectarian controversy. Their experimental agenda was much more organized and sophisticated than that of the London groups, however. The members often worked together to improve experiments in chemistry, physiology, and pneumatics. They made detailed telescopic and microscopic observations, pioneered new techniques for anatomical dissections, and developed new instruments, such as the air pump constructed by Boyle and Robert Hooke that was used to determine the weight and pressure of the air. By the early 1660s, members of the Oxford group had begun to publish reports of their results and to achieve an international reputation for careful research (see Frank, Hunter, Maddison, Rossi, and Vickers).

The restoration of the English monarchy in 1660 provided the catalyst for members of both the London and the Oxford groups to suggest the establishment of a truly national research institution. In 1662 Charles II officially recognized their efforts by giving a charter to the newly established Royal Society of London, which had been purposefully and explicitly modeled after the scientific society of Bacon’s New Atlantis. Their plans were ambitious. Aside from public meetings to discuss developments in natural philosophy, they sought state funding to construct a “college” within the society “where we may meet, prepare and make our Experiments and Observations, lodge our Curators and Operators, have our Laboratory, Observatory and Operatory all together” (Hunter, 1981, p. 39). The founding members were frequently disappointed, however. They received little funding from the king, and even their less ambitious plans often failed. There were also disagreements among the members about the true aim of the society. Some believed that it should be devoted to the development of theoretical knowledge as Bacon had advised in The New Organon, whereas others felt that most effort should be given to the construction of natural histories and practical inventions on the model of Bacon’s Sylva Sylvarum (on the production of natural histories before and after Bacon, see Daston, Findlen, LeGrand, and Park). Despite these failings and disagreements, there was at least one resounding success. Under the careful editorial guidance of the society’s secretary, Henry Oldenburg, the Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society was established as an international journal that carried news about the society’s endeavors, as well as information and critical papers from philosophical correspondents on the Continent.

With the official constitution of a society for the advancement of learning, the tensions inherent within cooperative research became all the more apparent. The society was neither as unified nor as democratic as the Baconian model. The lower classes, to which tradesmen and some merchants belonged, were not widely represented among the society’s ranks, and some members believed that membership ought to be more selective and restricted. Members also disagreed about the extent to which knowledge should be freely communicated to the public. Because the society aimed at improving human welfare, it could be argued that they had a duty to restrict the dissemination of knowledge that would have a detrimental effect. Because the new experimental learning was concerned with the production of practical techniques and processes, it could also be argued that secrecy was necessary, since inventors should have the right to profit from their innovations. Tradesmen and artisans, for example, would be reluctant to share the secrets of their processes with the fellows of the Royal Society unless they had the assurance that these secrets would not in turn become public knowledge.

Other tensions surfaced as the Royal Society matured. Isaac Newton, who was the model of a lone scientific genius in contrast to the Baconian cooperative ideal, became the society’s president in 1703 and remained in that office until his death in 1727. His position and his accomplishments significantly contributed to the shape of modern science, and yet his work was not all of one type. His first major scientific treatise, The Mathematical Principles of Natural Philosophy (1687), was, as its title suggests, a work more deductive and axiomatic than anything that Bacon had envisioned. In his work on optical theory, however, Newton was much more experimental. Although he did not mention Bacon by name, he used Bacon’s concept of an “instance of the cross” to describe what he believed to be the “crucial experiment” that proved the truth of his theory of light in his first public presentation of it in a 1672 letter to the Royal Society. The influence of Bacon is equally apparent in his full account of the theory in his Opticks, first published in 1704. In Book 3 of that work, for example, he provided a series of observations that was similar to a natural history of light of a type that Bacon might have suggested. Paradoxically, perhaps, the most striking allusion to Bacon occurs in the first part of Book 1 of the Opticks in a passage where Newton apparently interprets Bacon’s injunction against premature anticipations of nature to mean that hypothetical reasoning was not to be allowed. As he wrote there, his “Design in this Book is not to explain the Properties of Light by Hypotheses, but to propose and prove them by Reason and Experiments” (Newton, 1730, p. 1).

Despite such tensions and misunderstandings, Bacon’s influence was substantial and not limited to natural science alone. The philosopher John Locke, who had been a member of the Oxford group while a student, extended the Baconian project to a general philosophical study of human nature. In his introduction to An Essay Concerning Human Understanding (1690), Locke described there his “purpose, to inquire into the original, certainty, and extent of human knowledge, together with the grounds and degrees of belief, opinion, and assent” by using a “historical, plain method.” He sought to develop a classification of the various “discerning faculties” that humans possess to produce an “account of the ways whereby our understandings come to attain those notions of things we have” (Locke, p. 1) and thus to set out the “bounds between knowledge and opinion” and settle the issue of the “extent” of our human ability to achieve knowledge (Locke, p. 2). In addition to the theme of the Essay, Locke’s form also followed the Baconian model. He first examined how ideas “come into the mind” and then examined the particular types of ideas that we possess and to what each could be attributed, concluding in the final book that knowledge is “nothing but the perception of the connection and agreement, or disagreement and repugnancy, of any of our ideas” (Locke, p. 267).

The reform of learning was not limited to England, of course. Great intellectual activity was taking place throughout Europe; however, although there was some discussion of Bacon’s philosophy, his works were not immediately successful there. Three significant philosophers from the period, who are classified today as the “continental rationalists” (Descartes, Spinoza, and Leibniz), were acquainted with Bacon’s works to varying degrees and had different reactions to them. René Descartes did not discuss Bacon in his published works, but his opposition to much of what Bacon had suggested can be seen in his Discourse on Method (1637), wherein he advocated a metaphysical basis for science and insisted that the solitary thinker was best equipped to lay the foundation for a true natural philosophy (Descartes, vol. 1). Although in Part 6 of the Discourse, Descartes recognized the need for experiments, especially when dealing with particulars that could be derived in more than one way from his general principles, he discounted the idea of cooperative research and questioned the worth of using assistants. In some of his correspondence, where he did mention Bacon by name, he did not acknowledge the likelihood that Bacon’s methods would achieve theoretical explanations but seemed to have relegated them instead to the limited role of fact gathering. In a letter to Marin Mersenne, for example, Descartes wrote that “it would be very useful if some such person were to write the history of celestial phenomena in accordance with the Baconian method and to describe the present appearances of the heavens without any explanations or hypotheses … Such a work would be more generally useful than might seem possible at first sight and it would relieve me of a great deal of trouble” (Descartes, vol. 3, p. 38).

Baruch Spinoza’s assessment of Bacon’s writings is also contained in letters, particularly in his early correspondence with Henry Oldenburg. It is interesting, however, that Spinoza saw more similarity than most others have since seen between Bacon and Descartes, and he criticized them both for having “strayed so far from the knowledge of the first cause and the origin of all things” (Oldenburg, vol. 1, pp. 426–28). According to Spinoza, there was little difference between Descartes’s attribution of the source of human intellectual error to the “free will” and Bacon’s to the “idols of the mind.” He complained that neither theory was adequate because they both failed to appreciate that all events are determined by external causes and thus that even human actions and “decisions” are not freely made by the agents involved but instead follow by necessity from the place these agents occupy in the system of nature.

On the other hand, Gottfried Wilhelm Leibniz apparently approved of Bacon’s notion of the idols, or at least he found the notion useful when arguing against the English philosophers’ rejection of his “demonstration against real absolute space.” In his correspondence with Samuel Clarke, Leibniz maintained that the English position was an example of the influence of the “idols of the tribe and idols of the cave” as described by “Chancellor Bacon” (Leibniz, p. 324).

Bacon’s works fared better in the hands of the “Enlightenment” philosophers of the next generation. They modeled their philosophy on the scientific accomplishments of Newton, were optimistic about the role of science in society, and traced both of these themes back to the influence of Bacon. Voltaire, the leading Enlightenment philosophe in France, praised Bacon for his “modernity” and wrote about how “in the midst of court intrigues and the business of his high office, which themselves required a whole man, he found time to be a great philosopher, a good historian, and an elegant writer; and what is even more astonishing, he lived in a century in which the art of writing well was hardly known, and sound philosophy even less so” (Voltaire, p. 46). Unlike Descartes, whom Voltaire described as having been “born to bring to light the errors of antiquity and to put his own in their place” (Voltaire, p. 53), Bacon, even though “not yet familiar with nature, … knew and pointed out all the paths that lead to her” (Voltaire, p. 47). Although Voltaire acknowledged that Bacon had not made significant contributions to natural philosophy per se, he was “the father of experimental philosophy” because “nobody before Chancellor Bacon had understood experimental philosophy; and of all the physical experiments that have been made since his time, hardly one was not suggested in his book” (Voltaire, p. 49).

Another Enlightenment figure, the Scottish-born philosopher David Hume, continued the Baconian project begun by Locke of explicating the processes of human understanding. In his An Inquiry Concerning Human Understanding (1758), Hume wrote that he wished to construct a “science of the mind” modeled after the science that Newton had constructed of nature. In his section on the origin of ideas, he produced a type of observational history of ideas and concluded that the mind was limited to merely “compounding, transposing, augmenting, or diminishing the materials afforded us by the senses and experience” (Hume, p. 27). In the process of this study, however, Hume set out two problems that would come to be seen as serious criticism of the general Baconian program in philosophy. In the first place, Hume raised questions about our ability to achieve causal knowledge. He argued that because all of our knowledge comes from sense experience and because we see only the constant conjunction of events, our reasoning about causality goes beyond the senses, and thus this type of reasoning cannot be justified. Indeed, causality is not something that can be demonstrated but is something that we are required to presuppose in order to make inferences (Hume, pp. 40–44). Hume then went on to raise the closely related problem of our inability to provide a noncircular justification for the use of induction. When we make an inductive inference, we are assuming that the future will be like the past, but our only evidence for assuming this is yet another inductive inference that this is the way things have always been (Hume, pp. 46–50).

Hume’s discussion did not have an immediate impact in philosophy, and scientific practitioners continued experimenting to discover the underlying causal processes operative in nature and frequently used a Baconian style of justification for their project. In the developing area of chemistry, for example, Antoine Lavoisier began his Elements of Chemistry (1789) with a discussion of how previous chemists “made suppositions instead of forming conclusions” and advised that “the only method of preventing such errors from taking place, and of correcting them when formed, is to restrain and simplify our reasoning as much as possible,” to “trust to nothing but facts,” and “to submit our reasoning to the test of experiment” (Lavoisier, pp. xvii–xviii). He concluded his prefatory remarks by quoting Abbé de Condillac’s advice that it is necessary “as my Lord Bacon says, to frame the human understanding anew” (Lavoisier, p. xxxvi). In a similar manner, the English chemist Humphry Davy, who would advance and correct some of Lavoisier’s findings in his Elements of Chemical Philosophy (1812), explicitly followed Baconian precepts. Davy discussed how Bacon had been the founder of “the great revolution in philosophy” (Davy, vol. 7, p. 121), and his praise was more than mere homage for a famous fellow countryman. He particularly appreciated how Bacon had laid the foundation for advances in chemical science. Prior to Bacon, Davy wrote, “speculation had been misplaced,” and experiments had been “directed rather towards impossible, than to practical things.” In Bacon’s system, however, “hypothesis was exploded except as a guide to actual trials,” and “inquiries only were considered as valuable, which were made upon the hidden, [yet] sensible properties of things, and upon the existing relations of facts” (Davy, p. 122).

Davy also continued the English tradition of stressing the utility of knowledge. He invented the miner’s safety lamp and was one of the first and most popular lecturers at the Royal Institution of London, a new scientific society designed to familiarize the gentry and the growing middle class with the advances made possible by scientific learning. As the nineteenth century progressed, numerous technological advances were made, and rightly or wrongly, these were attributed to the achievements made in scientific understanding. This period also saw the beginning of the professionalization of science, the elevation of the status of the scientist, and an increased interest on the part of scientists and philosophers for the study of the processes used in the discovery and justification of scientific knowledge—what would be called “philosophy of science” today. At the same time, there was a revival of interest in the works of Bacon. At midcentury, Spedding, Ellis, and Heath began their massive undertaking of producing new editions and translations for the collected works of Bacon. As the literature in the philosophy of science grew, so also did the divergent and often conflicting interpretations and evaluations of Bacon’s contributions to the discipline.

John F. W. Herschel, who received the Copley medal of the Royal Society in 1821 for his scientific achievements, was one of the first in England to publish a text devoted to the philosophy of science. His Preliminary Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy (1830) was influenced by Newton, but in it Herschel also discussed such Baconian themes as the utility of knowledge and the extension of scientific methods to areas of political and moral inquiry (Herschel, pp. 72–73). Indeed, he also maintained that before Bacon, there had been no natural philosophy and that Bacon’s accomplishment was due to his eloquence and to his “broad announcement of this grand and fertile principle … that the whole of natural philosophy consists entirely of a series of inductive generalizations … and a corresponding series of inverted reasoning from generals to particulars” (Herschel, p. 104). Although Galileo, Copernicus, and others showed that Aristotle was wrong,

it remained to show on broad and general principles how and why Aristotle was in the wrong; to set in evidence the peculiar weakness of his method of philosophizing, and to substitute in its place a stronger and better. This important task was executed by Francis Bacon, Lord Verulam, who will, therefore, justly be looked upon in all future ages as the great reformer of philosophy, though his own actual contributions to the stock of physical truths were small. (Herschel, pp. 114–15)

Herschel fully supported Bacon’s ideal of causal inquiry, and he made use of his conception of “crucial instances” for “eliminating extraneous causes, and deciding between rival hypotheses” (Herschel, p. 188). In addition to his critical assessment of the actual contributions that Bacon made to scientific knowledge, however, he was also critical of the more analytic elements in Bacon’s works, including his classification of the prerogative instances. Herschel complained that the practical importance of such instances is “not in the classification of them” but in the way that their “force is felt in the mind” (Herschel, pp. 183–84).

William Whewell, in his Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences (1847), expressed his agreement with Herschel’s criticism of the technical aspects of Bacon’s works, especially the construction of tables and the classification of the prerogative instances (Whewell, 1847/1984, p. 233). In addition, he also criticized Bacon’s discussion of the idols of the mind. Although he admitted that the recognition of the idols could be useful for political or moral philosophy, Whewell argued that in natural philosophy they would have little influence because when “a physical theory is completed through all the steps of a just induction, there is a clear daylight diffused over it which leaves no lurking-place for prejudice” (Whewell, 1847/1984, p. 237). Despite such a seemingly naive and mechanical account of induction, however, Whewell emphasized the need for organizing ideas, hypotheses, and principles for the pursuit of knowledge, and he traced his beliefs concerning the positive role played by such ideas back to Bacon. As he explained, although Bacon “put prominently forwards the necessary dependence of all our knowledge upon experience,” a close reading of The New Organon would reveal that “he was not the less aware of the value of the Explication of Conceptions” (Whewell, 1847/ 1984, p. 229).

Whewell praised Bacon as the “teacher who not only commenced, but in great measure completed the philosophy of induction” (Whewell, 1847/1984, p. 219). The progress of science could be attributed to “a graduated and successive induction” in contrast to the hasty generalizations that had been produced prior to Bacon’s time, and thus Bacon had been responsible for producing an “entire change of the Method by which science was pursued” (Whewell, 1847/1984, pp. 222–24). In his third edition of the Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences, Whewell included in the second part his Novum Organon Renovatum, which was meant, as the title indicated, not to replace The New Organon but to revise it in light of the present state of physical science. In true Baconian fashion, Whewell maintained that the philosophy of science must be based on the history of science. Since Bacon’s time, science had progressed by a “gradation of truths, successively included in other truths” that could be represented by inductive tables similar to inverted genealogical trees or to Bacon’s pyramids of knowledge (Whewell, 1858, pp. 162, 180–81). Knowledge had been produced by a “consilience of inductions” with a “constant tendency to simplicity” rising from particulars to laws of phenomena and finally to causal theories (Whewell, 1858, pp. 163, 179). Although Whewell recognized that there were problems with the logical justification of causal claims, he argued that it was a “barren caution” that would limit science “to inquiry into facts, and not to speculate about causes” (Whewell, 1858, p. 184).

About the same time, John Stuart Mill began to question such allegiances to Bacon, and he was also critical of Whewell’s ideas concerning the necessity of our causal knowledge. In his System of Logic (1855), Mill argued that induction is a process of inference from the known to the unknown that could not be adequately accomplished by enumeration alone. He acknowledged that “it was, above all, by pointing out the insufficiency of this crude and loose conception of Induction, that Bacon merited the title so generally awarded to him of Founder of Inductive Philosophy.” But, Mill went on, “physical investigation has now far outgrown the Baconian conception of induction,” and thus “the value of his own contributions to a more philosophical theory of the subject has certainly been exaggerated” (Mill, 1855, p. 187). Mill devised his own set of methods for experimental inquiry, which were known popularly as the methods of Agreement, Difference, Concomitant Variation, and Residues, to be used for the discovery of the connection between events (Mill, 1855, p. 222 ff.). Despite the fact that Mill failed to make reference to Bacon in this section, Whewell was quick to point out that “Mr. Mill’s four methods have a great resemblance to Bacon’s Prerogatives of Instances” and that “with regard to the value of such methods, I believe all study of science will convince us more and more of the wisdom of the remarks which Sir John Herschel has made upon them” (Whewell, 1849/1989, p. 287).

Mill’s assessment of Bacon’s inductivism as insufficient for the demands of advanced modern science was coupled with his attempts to popularize a version of inductivism that he found more to his liking—that which was being propounded in France by Auguste Comte (Mill, 1855, p. 172). In his gloss on this new inductivism, The Positive Philosophy of Auguste Comte, Mill explained how knowledge was to be limited to discovering the laws governing phenomena and how we can know a fact only in “its relations to other facts in the way of succession or of similitude” (Mill, 1866, p. 7). In a Baconian manner, Comte extended his positivist method to a study of the lawlike behavior that governs group activities by founding the modern study of sociology. In his A General View of Positivism (1848), he stressed the intellectual character of positivism, in particular its stance against superstition of all kind, and he maintained that both Bacon and Descartes could be considered as the founders of his discipline (Comte, p. 12). The anticausal elements embedded within the inductive philosophy of Mill and Comte clearly owe more to Hume than to Bacon. Yet, somewhat paradoxically, Bacon’s dictates would soon become conflated with the tenets of positivism.

In America, Charles Sanders Peirce was developing a different type of philosophical approach, Pragmatism, which was designed to capture what he found to be the dynamic and active components of modern scientific inquiry into causal processes. Peirce traced his idea back to Bacon’s works when he wrote in 1863 that “Lord Bacon, our great master, has said that the end of science is the glory of God, and the use of man. If, then, this is so, action is higher than reason for it is its purpose …” (Peirce, pp. 12–13). In a manuscript that he prepared on the history of science, Peirce maintained that science must be considered as a way of inquiry, and in support of this claim, he quoted Bacon on the distinction between science as a body of results and as a method (from The New Organon, Book One, aphorism 8). Following Bacon, he insisted that that which defines science is “not the attainment of knowledge” but “the search for it for its own sake” (Peirce, p. 227). In his published works, Peirce became more critical, however. In his “Fixation of Belief” (1877), for example, he wrote that

superior as Lord Bacon’s conception is to earlier notions, a modern reader who is not in awe of his grandiloquence is chiefly struck by the inadequacy of his view of scientific procedure. That we have only to make some crude experiments, to draw up briefs of the results in certain blank forms, to go through these by rule, checking off everything disproved and setting down the alternatives, and that thus in a few years physical science would be finished up—what an idea! (Peirce, p. 93)

This rather positivist reading of Bacon began to take on a life of its own. Like Peirce, some philosophers in England and France became critical of this historically inaccurate yet increasingly popular interpretation of Bacon’s precepts. In particular, there was a resurgence of the original misunderstanding of Descartes and Newton that Bacon’s warnings against unwarranted “anticipations” amounted to a ban on the use of hypothetical reasoning altogether. In his The Principles of Science (1875), the English logician W. Stanley Jevons wrote that Bacon “had no correct notion as to the logical method by which, from particular facts, we educe laws of nature” (Jevons, Book 1, p. vii). He saw Bacon as the author of the Sylva Sylvarum, which he called a “medley of truth and absurdity” (Jevons, Book 2, p. 2), and he viewed Bacon’s method as merely a “process of exhaustive examination and classification” and a “blind accumulation of facts” (Jevons, Book 1, pp. 134–35). In response, Jevons argued that the “hypothetical anticipation of nature is an essential part of inductive inquiry” (Jevons, Book 1, p. vii).

In France, Bacon’s reputation suffered a similar fate at the hands of one of the founders of modern medical research, Claude Bernard. In his Introduction to the Study of Experimental Medicine (1865), Bernard actually discussed numerous Baconian themes, for example, the idea that an experimenter is “at once theorist and practitioner” (Bernard, p. 3), and he acknowledged that “Bacon was a great genius, and his great restoration of the sciences is sublime as an idea.” Yet, despite Bacon’s rhetoric, the “medley of scientific gleams, clothed in the loftiest of poetic forms,” and despite the fact that Bacon “well understood and foresaw the importance of experiment for the future of the sciences,” Bernard insisted that Bacon “was not a man of science, and he did not understand the mechanism of the experimental method.” Like Jevons, Bernard was especially critical because he believed that “Bacon advises us to fly from hypotheses and theory; we have seen, however, that they are auxiliaries of the method, as indispensable as scaffolding is necessary in building a house” (Bernard, p. 51). A few years later, at the turn of the century, another French scientist turned philosopher of method, Pierre Duhem, would also be highly critical of Bacon for similar reasons, and his criticisms would have a lasting effect on much of twentieth-century philosophy of science.

In his The Aim and Structure of Physical Theory (1905), Duhem maintained that if one followed The New Organon, then “experiments will be made without any preconceived idea, observations will be made by chance, results will be recorded in crude form, as they happen to present themselves, in tables of ‘positive facts,’ ‘negative facts,’ or ‘degrees’ or ‘comparisons,’ and ‘exclusion’ or ‘rejection,’ in which a French mind would see only a disordered mass of useless reports” (Duhem, p. 66). It is not “facts” but the “symbolic interpretation” of them that a physicist requires for the construction and verification of theory (Duhem, p. 199). Duhem was also critical of the utilitarian emphasis in Bacon that had led him to praise a “philosophy whose object is not to construct a clear and well-ordered system of truths logically deduced from warranted principles. Its object is quite practical, I should go so far as to say industrial” (Duhem, p. 66). Finally, Duhem challenged the conception of a crucial experiment that had been one of the most influential of Bacon’s precepts by arguing that “the experimental test that the author of the Novum Organum called the ‘fact of the cross, borrowing this expression from the crosses which at an intersection indicate the various roads,’ is impossible in physics” (Duhem, pp. 188–89). He suggested that such crucial tests might be possible in other sciences, but in physics “all experiments require faith in a whole group of theories” that are related to the theory being tested in such a way that “an experiment cannot refute a single theory” (Duhem, p. 183).

These somewhat conflicting and derogatory images of Bacon have persisted throughout most of the twentieth-century analytic tradition in philosophy of science. Although the positivist movement as practiced by its most influential group, the logical positivists of the Vienna Circle, was largely ahistorical in its orientation, attempts by its members to understand the processes surrounding the inductive verification of theory could clearly be traced back to Hume and Comte. They did not look to Bacon for inspiration, apparently like Mill believing that Bacon’s work would be of little assistance; and yet Bacon’s name would become associated with them, and when a backlash against positivism began, Bacon would be severely criticized for having been a positivist. An early in-house critic of the Vienna Circle project, Karl Popper, picked up themes from Hume, Jevons, and Duhem when, in his The Logic of Scientific Discovery (1959), he argued that inductive inference is never justified (Popper, p. 27). He then extended this critique to Bacon, whom he characterized as a naive, unsophisticated inductivist. Popper argued that although the evolution of physics had proceeded from lower to higher levels of universality, much as described by the Baconian pyramid, and thus was “usually called the ‘inductive’ direction,” it did not follow that the theories so established were due to a sequence of inductive inferences. It would be better to call such a sequence “quasi-inductive” because in reality, once theories are proposed, for whatever reason, testing is always “based on deductive inferences” (Popper, pp. 276–77). Popper retained the idea of a crucial experiment but denied that it could be used to establish truth. Rather, he said, it is “designed to refute a theory (if possible) and more especially … to bring about a decision between two competing theories by refuting (at least) one of them—without, of course, proving the other” (Popper, p. 277).

Aside from his rejection of the possibility of verification and of induction as a legitimate logical method, in the most explicit and influential misreading of Bacon’s advice, Popper also criticized him for his lack of hypothetical reasoning. He equated Bacon’s term “anticipation” with the modern conception of “hypothesis” and asserted that “Bacon held that, to prepare the mind for the intuition of the true essence or nature of a thing, it has to be meticulously cleansed of all anticipations, prejudices, and idols … The main function of eliminative induction is … to assist the purification of the mind” (Popper, p. 279). Popper went on to claim that Bacon’s “interpretation” amounted to little more than an “unbiased reading” of the book of nature and that his induction was “too suggestive of his industrious gathering of the ‘countless grapes, ripe and in season’ [The New Organon, Book One, aphorism 123], from which he expected the wine of science to flow: of his myth of a scientific method that starts from observation and experiment and then proceeds to theories” (Popper, p. 279). In response, Popper argued that “out of uninterpreted senseexperiences science cannot be distilled, no matter how industriously we gather and sort them. Bold ideas, unjustified interpretations, and speculative thought, are our only means for interpreting nature: our only organon, our only instrument, for grasping her.” In the end, “we have to be active: we have to ‘make’ our experiences. It is we who always formulate the questions to be put to nature” (Popper, p. 180).

After Popper’s severe and largely unchallenged criticisms, Bacon’s works were increasingly seen as irrelevant to the philosophers of science of the mid–twentieth century who focused almost exclusively on analyses of present-day scientific achievements. In addition, Popper, among others, had denied that there could be any logical formulation of discovery processes. It became accepted doctrine that all discovery is haphazard and is based on unwarranted and rash speculation. The only place for logical analysis concerned the way in which deductive reasoning can be used to justify the adequacy of theoretical conjectures. This focus on justification issues led to a further eclipse of Bacon, because his inductive logic had been designed expressly as a method for discovery and the “invention of knowledge” not for its “cultivation” or proof (page 88). There were a few attempts to study scientific discovery patterns, beginning with N. R. Hanson in 1958, but such projects remained controversial at best, and any historical references were largely limited to Whewell and his neo-Baconian themes (see Gutting, Laudan, and Nickles).

During the 1970s, philosophy of science experienced a “historical turn” away from the almost exclusive focus on logic (see Burian, Giere, McMullin, and Nickles). There was a call for the construction of a philosophy that would capture the dynamic growth of knowledge and would account for the scientific achievements of the past as well as the present. The historical figures from the seventeenth century who were studied in this movement, however, were those who had made actual scientific contributions, such as Galileo, Harvey, Boyle, and Newton. This is not to say that Bacon’s works were totally ignored. In reality, many good accounts of his methods and theories can be found in the general history of philosophy from the 1960s and 1970s (see Ducasse, Farrington, Hesse, Rossi, and Vickers), and gradually these accounts started to become influential in the philosophy of science as well. Two articles that did much to refurbish Bacon’s reputation stand out: the early “In Defence of Francis Bacon” published in Studies in History and Philosophy of Science (1973), by Mary Horton, and the ironically entitled “Francis Bacon as a Precursor to Popper” published by Peter Urbach in 1982.

In the last two decades of the twentieth century, there has been a marked change in the evaluation of Bacon on all fronts. Partially this renewed interest can be attributed to the trend in both the history and the philosophy of science away from the focus on the study of theory to a more detailed examination of actual scientific practices. In the history of science and natural philosophy, Bacon’s works have been reexamined in light of new information that has been learned about the experimental traditions to which he was indebted, as well as to the general intellectual attitudes of his day regarding philosophy and the study of nature (see Daston, Findlen, Newman, and Perez-Ramos). In philosophy of science, works on the practical activities and problems associated with experimental procedures have also led to a reexamination and more positive evaluation of Bacon’s precepts (see Hacking, Harré, LeGrand, and Sargent). But both these studies and others also make clear that the tensions present in Bacon’s works remain today (see particularly the collections of essays by historians, philosophers, and sociologists edited by Buchwald; Gooding, Pinch, and Schaffer; Pickering; and van Helden and Hankins). Although science is still described as a critical and cooperative endeavor devoted to the pursuit of truth, historical and philosophical studies of experimental practice all too often reveal an image of science as a closed community of researchers where individual status is determined by one’s place in the hierarchical division of labor within and between highly competitive laboratories.

Not only does the insulated and closed nature of the scientific community go against the ideal, but it has also produced some bad science, according to critics who see the domination of science by white European males as limiting the possibilities and opportunities for the pursuit of alternative theories and goals. Feminist scholars have shown, for example, that in medical research, both the agenda and the research protocols have been geared toward the white male population, and thus the applicability of results to female and racial minority populations remains unknown (see Harding, Keller, and Longino). More troubling for some is the very Baconian ideal of modern science. According to Carolyn Merchant, for example, Bacon’s goal of commanding nature is based on the model of male domination, as can be seen in this passage from his Preface to The Great Instauration where he spoke of compiling a “history of nature under constraint and vexed; that is to say, when by art and the hand of man she is forced out of her natural state, and squeezed and molded” (page 82). Such rhetoric, Merchant argues, led inevitably to the “rape” of nature and to the subsequent environmental and ecological disasters that can be traced to man’s technological hubris (in opposition to this view, see Newman, Pinnick, and Soble).

There is no doubt that an overriding concern with the utility of science and technology has produced problems. What is not so clear is the extent to which the blame should rest with Bacon. Although there are passages that seem to support Merchant’s claim, it is also the case that there are other places where Bacon recognized the possible dangers associated with attempts to manipulate nature and thus urged caution. When he began The New Organon, he characterized man as the “servant and interpreter of nature” (Book One, aphorism 1) and insisted that “nature to be commanded must be obeyed” (Book One, aphorism 3). Experiments of light were to precede experiments of fruit because it is dangerous to attempt to produce effects before one fully understands the causal processes responsible for them. More significantly, in his Wisdom of the Ancients, Bacon actually spoke directly to the rape metaphor when, in the context of the myth of Ericthonius, he discussed Vulcan’s attempted rape of Minerva and drew the following moral: “Art … when it endeavors by much vexing of bodies to force nature to its will and conquer and subdue her … rarely attains the particular end it aims at” but instead produces “imperfect births and lame works, specious to look at but weak and halting in use” (vol. 6, p. 736).

Bacon’s works are significant not only for the way in which they popularized the ideals of experimentation, useful knowledge, and cooperative research, but also for the way in which they foreshadowed the tensions inherent in this project. As the sciences have advanced, the tensions have become all the more apparent. Society is more and more dependent on scientific and technological expertise, but the esoteric nature of much learning means that only a limited number of specialists in a given field have the knowledge required to evaluate practices. The nature of largescale research has also increased the dependence of science on external funding sources and thus has contributed to a more competitive spirit. Even the elimination of the old superstitions associated with Bacon’s idols of the mind has been called into question by critics who today see science as just one more idol. Although Bacon’s works provide no resolutions for these issues, studying his philosophy is still worthwhile because his interdisciplinary approach to all learning can help us to frame the questions for discussion in a more global and inclusive manner than the highly specialized nature of knowledge today would normally allow.

ROSE-MARY SARGENT

NOTE ON THE TEXT

Complete selections from Bacon’s philosophical works have been given where possible. In order to provide a representative sample of all facets of his project for the reform of learning, however, some abridgment has been necessary. In Section I, Book One and the dedication to Book Two of the Advancement of Learning have been included in their entirety, but Book Two itself has been eliminated, and in its place the short chapter summaries from the expanded second edition (De Augmentis) have been included. The other most significant change concerns The Great Instauration, The New Organon, and Preparative in Section II. This work is given in its entirety, with the exception of the twenty-seven aphorisms in Book Two of The New Organon that concern the Prerogative Instances. These aphorisms are simply listed by the names that Bacon gave to them, and a brief summary of his description and the examples that he used to illustrate them are provided. These abridgments have allowed for selections from Bacon’s various natural histories to be included in Section III, as well as the full text of his New Atlantis in Section IV.

These works represent the different elements from Bacon’s project, as well as the different stages of his presentation of it and the various writing styles that he used to great rhetorical effect in his efforts to convince his audience of the worth of his project. They range from the highly analytic style of his classifications and argumentation in the Advancement of Learning (1605); to the less systematic style of aphorisms in The New Organon (started in the 1590s, published in 1620); to the natural histories, composed during his retirement (1621–1626) and designed to provide concrete models for how to collect and compile information about nature; and finally, to the fable of the island of Bensalem in his New Atlantis (left incomplete at his death and published posthumously in 1627), that provides his vision of the ways in which society would be benefited by instituting his project.

The selections are all based on the classic nineteenth-century edition of Bacon’s collected works produced by James Spedding, Robert L. Ellis, and Douglas D. Heath. This historically significant edition was produced at a time when there was a great resurgence of interest in Bacon’s works, and it has been the authoritative edition of his works throughout the twentieth century. Just as Spedding and Ellis updated Bacon’s philosophical texts to reflect nineteenth-century conventions, I’ve taken the liberty to update their text to reflect current American usage. For the most part, editorial changes have been limited to spelling, punctuation, capitalization, and paragraph divisions. In some instances, however, word changes have also been made because the language has evolved and some English words used in Bacon’s day now require translation. When Bacon used the word “prevented” to convey that a person “came early,” for example, the new phrase has been used in order to avoid confusion and to make the readings easier and more enjoyable, particularly for students meeting these texts for the first time.

In the General Introduction, the composition and history of Bacon’s works are discussed in relation to his overall project. References to works not included in this book are made by volume and page number to the Spedding edition of his collected works. When the works are included here, references are given simply by page number except in the case of The New Organon, where references are given by book and aphorism number. Each of the four sections also has a separate introduction that explains the structure and organization of the specific works included and any additional editorial changes.

I

ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING AND
DIVISION OF THE SCIENCES

The first work intended by Bacon as a contribution to his plan for the reform of knowledge was the Advancement of Learning published in 1605 in two parts, or “books.” In 1623 he published Of the Dignity and Advancement of Learning, commonly known by its short Latin title as De Augmentis, which contained a Latin translation of the first book of the Advancement of Learning, together with an expanded discussion of the second book into eight books on the division and inventory of learning that had been acquired up to his day. All of Book One and the dedication to Book Two are included here complete. In addition, the synopsis of the contents of the chapters included in Books Two through Nine of De Augmentis is included here as it appeared in the Spedding edition.

The Advancement of Learning begins with a dedication to King James I, who had succeeded Queen Elizabeth I to the throne in 1603. Bacon praises James’s intellectual abilities and compares him with the Hebrew King Solomon—a comparison to which Bacon would return in later works as well. He also likens James to “the ancient Hermes,” by whom he meant Hermes Trimegistus (“thrice-great Hermes”), a legendary writer of alchemical and magical texts. Bacon’s reference to Hermes reflects the somewhat common belief of his day in a tradition of lost civilizations and lost wisdom. The reference also indicates Bacon’s frequently overlooked interest in chemical processes and the influence that the alchemical or hermetic tradition had on his ideas concerning the transformation of bodies.

After the dedication, Bacon begins a defense of the “Excellency of Learning” against three sets of objections (identified in the text that follows by bracketed headings). First, he responds to religious objections against learning, particularly those that claim that the attempt to gain knowledge about nature is expressly forbidden by the Bible. The second set of objections concerns political problems about how learning might make men too “soft” and unlikely to bear arms, or too curious and irresolute and thus unfit for taking decisive practical action. The third set of objections, related to “the errors and imperfections of learned men themselves,” receives the lengthiest discussion. In the first two of three general considerations in this section, Bacon discusses the criticism that learned men lack fortune and lack manners, but he insists that these features ought not to be given much credence and discusses them only because of their popularity. The third consideration concerns the supposed “errors and vanities” of the studies themselves, to which Bacon responds that it is possible to censure the errors while salvaging that which is “good and sound.”

The Advancement of Learning is written in a highly analytic style. Bacon’s procedure in this text of classifying and categorizing information based on numerous fine distinctions is well-illustrated here by how he has analyzed the third set of objections into three major considerations, and then by how the third consideration itself has been analyzed further into “three vanities in studies whereby learning has been most defamed.” He has named these three as “vain affections” where men study words and emphasize eloquence over content; “vain altercations” where men become argumentative and out of “infinite agitation of wit, spin out unto us those laborious webs of learning” that produce nothing but controversy; and “vain imaginations” where men delight in deceptions, such as that which is exhibited by their credulous acceptance of magic, astrology, and alchemy. Once Bacon responds to these three major vanities, he then discusses how there are eleven other errors as well that are not full-blown “diseases” but “peccant humors.” A number of these errors, particularly those concerned with assumptions about what is left to be learned, will be discussed again in the prefaces to The Great Instauration and The New Organon.

After his response to the objections, Bacon begins his positive defense by offering what he calls divine and human proofs of the dignity of learning. The divine proofs are based on “the attributes and acts of God,” the Scriptural account of Solomon, the authority of the Church fathers, and even the example of the Jesuits, who had “strengthened the state of learning.” He concludes from all of these cases that learning is an “inducement to the exaltation of the glory of God” and a “help and preservative against disbelief and error.” Book One ends with Bacon’s quite lengthy discussion of the human proofs for the dignity of learning based on historical examples of how rulers with the greatest degree of learning were also the strongest. He focuses on three, Elizabeth I, Alexander the Great, and Julius Caesar, but he also provides numerous other historical examples, particularly from the ancient world. What we see here is not merely evidence for the advantages of learning but also a display of Bacon’s knowledge about the historical past. This section is of interest today because it provides insight into what, in Bacon’s time, was known and valued about the ancient world.

Book Two begins with a longer dedication to James I that reflects Bacon’s shift of focus from the dignity of learning to more practical advice about how to advance it. He argues that to correct the defects in education, three things are necessary, “amplitude of reward,” “prudence and soundness of direction,” and “conjunction of labors.” Bacon can provide the direction, but the king must provide the rewards and the opportunities for cooperative research. There will need to be places of learning, endowments, libraries, laboratories, and gardens, in addition to paid lectureships, research positions, and general reforms of the university curriculum, all of which “are truly works for a king.” The remainder of Book Two in the Advancement of Learning and Books Two through Nine in De Augmentis consist of Bacon’s “survey of knowledge”—his attempt to set out those things already known and thus to prepare the agenda for what is left to be learned. The synopsis of the chapters of each book provided here should give the reader an accurate idea of the amount of detail that he included, as well as a further example of his analytic approach.

In accordance with the general editorial policy discussed earlier, the texts have been updated from the 1858 edition to reflect current American usage. Another editorial revision concerns the treatment of the numerous quotations and paraphrases that Bacon gives from ancient and modern authors, some in English and some in Latin. In the Spedding edition, the practice was to italicize the material from other writers, and if the original was in Latin, to provide a translation in brackets. Here, except for very short phrases, the Latin has been eliminated, and the Spedding translations are given with some slight changes either to update usage or to return to the original first person construction that the Spedding edition rendered in the third person. In addition, these passages have been placed within quotation marks, instead of being italicized, but the reader should use caution. The quotations may be accurately taken from the edition of the texts that Bacon used, but it is difficult to identify those that he used because normally his citation is limited to stating only the name of the author (see Vickers, 1996, for the identification of some of the editions that Bacon might have used).

THE FIRST BOOK OF FRANCIS BACON
OF THE PROFICIENCE AND ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING
DIVINE AND HUMAN

TO THE KING

There were under the law (excellent King) both daily sacrifices and freewill offerings: the one proceeding upon ordinary observance, the other upon a devout cheerfulness. In like manner, there belongs to kings from their servants both tribute of duty and presents of affection. In the former of these I hope I shall not live to be wanting, according to my most humble duty, and the good pleasure of your Majesty’s employments. For the latter, I thought it more respective to make choice of some oblation which might rather refer to the propriety and excellency of your individual person, than to the business of your crown and state.

Wherefore, representing your Majesty many times unto my mind, and beholding you not with the inquisitive eye of presumption to discover that which the Scripture tells me is inscrutable, but with the observant eye of duty and admiration, leaving aside the other parts of your virtue and fortune, I have been touched, yea, and possessed with an extreme wonder at your virtues and faculties which the philosophers call intellectual: the largeness of your capacity, the faithfulness of your memory, the swiftness of your apprehension, the penetration of your judgment, and the facility and order of your elocution. And I have often thought that of all the persons living that I have known, your Majesty were the best instance to make a man of Plato’s opinion, that all knowledge is but remembrance, and that the mind of man by nature knows all things and has but her own native and original notions (which by the strangeness and darkness of this tabernacle of the body are sequestered) again revived and restored. Such a light of nature I have observed in your Majesty, and such a readiness to take flame and blaze from the least occasion presented or the least spark of another’s knowledge delivered. And as the Scripture says of the wisest king: “that his heart was as the sands of the sea,” which though it be one of the largest bodies yet it consists of the smallest and finest portions, so has God given your Majesty a composition of understanding admirable, being able to compass and comprehend the greatest matters and nevertheless to touch and apprehend the least, whereas it should seem an impossibility in nature for the same instrument to make itself fit for great and small works.

And for your gift of speech, I call to mind what Cornelius Tacitus said of Augustus Caesar: “that his style of speech was flowing and prince-like.” For if we note it well, speech that is uttered with labor and difficulty, or speech that savors of the affectation of art and precepts, or speech that is framed after the imitation of some pattern of eloquence, though never so excellent, all this has something servile, and holding of the subject. But your Majesty’s manner of speech is indeed prince-like, flowing as from a fountain, and yet streaming and branching itself into nature’s order, full of facility and felicity, imitating none, and inimitable by any.

And as in your civil estate there appears to be an emulation and contention of your Majesty’s virtue with your fortune—a virtuous disposition with a fortunate regiment, a virtuous expectation (when time was) of your greater fortune with a prosperous possession thereof in the due time, a virtuous observation of the laws of marriage with most blessed and happy fruit of marriage, a virtuous and most Christian desire of peace with a fortunate inclination in your neighbor princes thereunto—so likewise in these intellectual matters there seems to be no less contention between the excellency of your Majesty’s gifts of nature and the universality and perfection of your learning. For I am well assured that this which I shall say is no amplification at all, but a positive and measured truth, which is, that there has not been since Christ’s time any king or temporal monarch which has been so learned in all literature and erudition, divine and human. For let a man seriously and diligently revolve and peruse the succession of the emperors of Rome (of which Caesar the dictator, who lived some years before Christ, and Marcus Antoninus were the best learned), and so descend to the emperors of Greece, or of the West, and then to the lines of France, Spain, England, Scotland, and the rest, and he shall find this judgment is truly made. For it seems much in a king, if by the compendious extractions of other men’s wits and labors he can take hold of any superficial ornaments and shows of learning, or if he countenance and prefer learning and learned men, but to drink indeed of the true fountains of learning, nay to have such a fountain of learning in himself, in a king, and in a king born, is almost a miracle. And the more, because there is met in your Majesty a rare conjunction as well of divine and sacred literature as of profane and human. So your Majesty stands invested of that triplicity which in great veneration was ascribed to the ancient Hermes: the power and fortune of a king, the knowledge and illumination of a priest, and the learning and universality of a philosopher. This inherent and individual attribute in your Majesty deserves to be expressed not only in the fame and admiration of the present time, nor in the history or tradition of the ages succeeding, but also in some solid work, fixed memorial, and immortal monument, bearing a character or signature both of the power of a king and the difference and perfection of such a king.

Therefore I did conclude with myself that I could not make unto your Majesty a better oblation than of some treatise tending to that end, whereof the sum will consist of these two parts: the former concerning the excellency of learning and knowledge, and the excellency of the merit and true glory in the augmentation and propagation thereof, the latter, what the particular acts and works are which have been embraced and undertaken for the advancement of learning and what defects and undervalues I find in such particular acts. To the end that though I cannot positively or affirmatively advise your Majesty, or propound unto you framed particulars, yet I may excite your princely cogitations to visit the excellent treasure of your own mind, and thence to extract particulars for this purpose agreeable to your magnanimity and wisdom.

In the entrance to the former of these, to clear the way and as it were to make silence to have the true testimonies concerning the dignity of learning to be better heard without the interruption of tacit objections, I think good to deliver it from the discredits and disgraces which it has received, all from ignorance, but ignorance severally disguised, appearing [1] sometimes in zeal and jealousy of divines, [2] sometimes in the severity and arrogance of politics, and [3] sometimes in the errors and imperfections of learned men themselves.

[Objection 1 and Response]

I hear the former sort say that knowledge is of those things which are to be accepted with great limitation and caution; that the aspiring to over much knowledge was the original temptation and sin whereupon ensued the fall of man; that knowledge has in it something of the serpent, and therefore where it enters into a man it makes him swell—scientia inflat [knowledge puffs up]; that Solomon gives a censure: “that there is no end of making books, and that much reading is weariness of the flesh,” and again, in another place, “that in spacious knowledge there is much sorrow and that he that increases knowledge increases anxiety”; that St. Paul gives a caveat: “that we be not spoiled through vain philosophy”; that experience demonstrates how learned men have been arch heretics, how learned times have been inclined to atheism and how the contemplation of second causes does derogate from our dependence upon God, who is the first cause.

To discover, then, the ignorance and error of this opinion and the misunderstanding in the grounds thereof, it may well appear these men do not observe or consider that it was not the pure knowledge of nature and universality (a knowledge by the light whereof man did give names unto other creatures in Paradise as they were brought before him, according unto their properties) which gave the occasion to the fall, but it was the proud knowledge of good and evil, with an intent in man to give law unto himself and to depend no more upon God’s commandments, which was the form of the temptation. Neither is it any quantity of knowledge how great soever that can make the mind of man to swell. For nothing can fill, much less extend, the souls of man but God and the contemplation of God. And, therefore, Solomon speaking of the two principal senses of inquisition, the eye and the ear, affirms that the eye is never satisfied with seeing, nor the ear with hearing; and if there be no fullness, then is the container greater than the content. So of knowledge itself and the mind of man, whereto the senses are but reporters, he defines in these words (placed after that calendar or ephemerides which he makes of the diversities of times and seasons for all actions and purposes) and concludes thus: “God has made all things beautiful, or decent, in the true return of their seasons. Also he has placed the world in man’s heart, yet cannot man find out the work which God works from the beginning to the end,” declaring not obscurely that God has framed the mind of man as a mirror or glass capable of the image of the universal world and joyful to receive the impression thereof, as the eye delights to receive light, and not only delighted in beholding the variety of things and vicissitude of times, but raised also to find out and discern the ordinances and decrees which throughout all those changes are infallibly observed. And although he does insinuate that the supreme or summary law of nature, which he calls “the work which God works from the beginning to the end,” is not possible to be found out by man, yet that does not derogate from the capacity of the mind, but may be referred to the impediments, as of shortness of life, ill conjunction of labors, ill tradition of knowledge over from hand to hand, and many other inconveniences whereunto the condition of man is subject. For that no parcel of the world is denied to man’s inquiry and invention he does in another place rule over, when he says: “the spirit of man is as the lamp of God, wherewith he searches the inwardness of all secrets.”

If then such be the capacity of the mind of man, it is manifest that there is no danger at all in the proportion or quantity of knowledge, how large soever, lest it should make it swell or out-compass itself. No, it is merely the quality of knowledge, be it in quantity more or less, if it be taken without the true corrective thereof, that has in it some nature of venom or malignity, and some effects of that venom, which is ventosity or swelling. This corrective spice, the mixture whereof makes knowledge so sovereign, is charity—which the apostle immediately added to the former clause, for so he said: “knowledge puffs up, but charity builds up.” Not unlike unto that which he delivered in another place: “if I spoke with the tongues of men and angels, and had not charity, it were but as a tinkling cymbal,” not but that it is an excellent thing to speak with the tongues of men and angels, but because if it be severed from charity, and not referred to the good of men and mankind, it has rather a sounding and unworthy glory than a meriting and substantial virtue.

And as for that censure of Solomon concerning the excess of writing and reading books and the anxiety of spirit which redounds from knowledge, and that admonition of St. Paul, “that we be not seduced by vain philosophy,” let those places be rightly understood and they do indeed excellently set forth the true bounds and limitations whereby human knowledge is confined and circumscribed, and yet without any such contracting, but that it may comprehend all the universal nature of things. For these limitations are three. The first, that we do not so place our felicity in knowledge, as we forget our mortality. The second, that we make application of our knowledge to give ourselves repose and contentment, and not distaste or repining. The third, that we do not presume by the contemplation of nature to attain to the mysteries of God.

For, as touching the first of these, Solomon does excellently expound himself in another place of the same book, where he said: “I saw well that knowledge recedes as far from ignorance as light does from darkness, and that the wise man’s eyes keep watch in his head, whereas the fool rounds about in darkness, but withal I learned that the same mortality involved them both.”

And for the second, certain it is, there is no vexation or anxiety of mind which results from knowledge otherwise than merely by accident. For all knowledge and wonder (which is the seed of knowledge) is an impression of pleasure in itself, but when men fall to framing conclusions out of their knowledge, applying it to their particular condition, and ministering to their weak fears or vast desires, there grows that carefulness and trouble of mind which is spoken of. For then knowledge is no more a “dry light,” whereof Heraclitus the profound said, “the dry light is the best soul,” but it becomes a “light charged with moisture,” being steeped and infused in the humors of the affections.

And as for the third point, it deserves to be a little stood upon and not to be lightly passed over. For if any man shall think by view and inquiry into these sensible and material things to attain that light whereby he may reveal unto himself the nature or will of God, then indeed is he spoiled by vain philosophy. For the contemplation of God’s creatures and works having regard to the works and creatures themselves, produces knowledge, but having regard to God, produces no perfect knowledge, but wonder, which is broken knowledge. And therefore, it was most aptly said by one of Plato’s school, “that the sense of man carries a resemblance with the sun, which (as we see) opens and reveals all the terrestrial globe, but then again it obscures and conceals the stars and celestial globe: so does the sense discover natural things, but it darkens and shuts up divine.” And hence it is true that it has proceeded that diverse great learned men have been heretical, while they have sought to fly up to the secrets of the Deity by the waxen wings of the senses. And as for the conceit that too much knowledge should incline a man to atheism, and that the ignorance of second causes should make a more devout dependence upon God who is the first cause, first, it is good to ask the question that Job asked of his friends: “will you lie for God, as one man will do for another, to gratify him?” For certain it is that God works nothing in nature but by second causes. And if they would have it otherwise believed, it is mere imposture, as it were, in favor towards God, and nothing else but to offer to the author of truth the unclean sacrifice of a lie. But further, it is an assured truth and a conclusion of experience, that a little or superficial knowledge of philosophy may incline the mind of man to atheism, but a further proceeding therein does bring the mind back again to religion. For in the entrance of philosophy, when the second causes, which are next to the senses, do offer themselves to the mind of man, if it dwell and stay there, it may induce some oblivion of the highest cause, but when a man passes on further and sees the dependence of causes and the works of Providence then, according to the allegory of the poets, he will easily believe that the highest link of nature’s chain must needs be tied to the foot of Jupiter’s chair.

To conclude, therefore, let no man, upon a weak conceit of sobriety or an ill-applied moderation, think or maintain that a man can search too far or be too well studied in the book of God’s word or in the book of God’s works—divinity or philosophy. Rather let men endeavor an endless progress or proficiency in both. Only let men beware that they apply both to charity and not to swelling, to use and not to ostentation, and again that they do not unwisely mingle or confound these learnings together.

[Objection 2 and Response]

And as for the disgraces which learning receives from politics, they may be of this nature: that learning does soften men’s minds and makes them more inapt for the honor and exercise of arms, that it does mar and pervert men’s dispositions for matter of government and policy in making them too curious and irresolute by variety of reading, or too peremptory or positive by strictness of rules and axioms, or too immoderate and overweening by reason of the greatness of examples, or too incompatible and differing from the times by reason of the dissimilitude of examples. Or at least that it does divert men’s labors from action and business, and brings them to a love of leisure and privateness, and that it does bring into states a relaxation of discipline, while every man is more ready to argue than to obey and execute.

Out of this conceit Cato surnamed the Censor, one of the wisest men indeed that ever lived, when Carneades the philosopher came with an embassy to Rome and the young men of Rome began to flock about him, being allured with the sweetness and majesty of his eloquence and learning, gave counsel in open senate that they should give him his dispatch with all speed, lest he should infect and enchant the minds and affections of the youth, and unawares bring in an alteration of the manners and customs of the state. Out of the same conceit or humor did Virgil, turning his pen to the advantage of his country and the disadvantage of his own profession, make a kind of separation between policy and government and between arts and sciences, in the verses so much renowned, attributing and challenging the one to the Romans, and leaving and yielding the other to the Grecians: “be thine, O Rome, with arts of government to rule the nations.” So likewise we see that Anytus, the accuser of Socrates, laid it as an article of charge and accusation against him that he did with the variety and power of his discourses and disputations withdraw young men from due reverence to the laws and customs of their country. And that he did profess a dangerous and pernicious science, which was to make the worse matter seem the better, and to suppress truth by force of eloquence and speech

But these and the like imputations have rather a countenance of gravity than any ground of justice: for experience does warrant that both in persons and in times there has been a meeting and concurrence in learning and arms, flourishing and excelling in the same men and the same ages. For as for men, there cannot be a better, nor the like instance, as of that pair, Alexander the Great and Julius Caesar the dictator, whereof the one was Aristotle’s scholar in philosophy, and the other was Cicero’s rival in eloquence. Or, if any man had rather call for scholars that were great generals than generals that were great scholars, let him take Epaminondas the Theban, or Xenophon the Athenian, whereof the one was the first that abated the power of Sparta, and the other was the first that made way to the overthrow of the monarchy of Persia. And this concurrence is yet more visible in times than in persons, by how much an age is a greater object than a man. For in Egypt, Assyria, Persia, Greece, and Rome, the same times that are most renowned for arms are likewise most admired for learning, so that the greatest authors and philosophers and the greatest captains and governors have lived in the same ages. Neither can it otherwise be, for as in man the ripeness of strength of the body and mind comes much about the same age, save that the strength of the body comes somewhat the more early; so in states, arms and learning, whereof the one corresponds to the body, the other to the soul of man, have a concurrence or near sequence in times.

And for matter of policy and government, that learning should rather hurt than enable thereunto, is a thing very improbable. We see it is accounted an error to commit a natural body to empiric physicians, which commonly have a few pleasing recipes whereupon they are confident and adventurous, but know neither the cause of diseases, nor the complexions of patients, nor peril of accidents, nor the true method of cures. We see it is a like error to rely upon advocates or lawyers who are only men of practice and not grounded in their books, who are many times easily surprised when matter falls outside their experience, to the prejudice of the causes they handle. So by like reason it cannot be but a matter of doubtful consequence if states be managed by empiric statesmen not well mingled with men grounded in learning.

But contrariwise, it is almost without instance contradictory, that ever any government was disastrous that was in the hands of learned governors. For howsoever it has been ordinary with political men to extenuate and disable learned men by the name of pedants, yet in the records of time it appears in many particulars that the governments of princes in minority (not withstanding the infinite disadvantage of that kind of state) have nevertheless excelled the government of princes of mature age, even for that reason which they seek to defame, which is that by that occasion the state has been in the hands of pedants, for so was the state of Rome for the first five years, which are so much magnified, during the minority of Nero, in the hands of Seneca, a pedant. So it was again for ten years space or more, during the minority of Gordianus the younger, with great applause and satisfaction in the hands of Misitheus, a pedant. So was it before that in the minority of Alexander Serverus, in like happiness, in hands not much unlike by reason of the rule of the women, who were aided by the teachers and preceptors. Nay let a man look into the government of the bishops of Rome, as by name into the government of Pius Quintus and Sextus Quintus in our times, who were both at their entrance esteemed but as pedantical friars, and he shall find that such popes do greater things, and proceed upon truer principles of state than those who have ascended to the papacy from an education and breeding in affairs of state and courts of princes. For although men bred in learning are perhaps lacking in points of convenience and accommodating for the present, which the Italians call ragioni di stato, whereof the same Pius Quintus could not hear spoken with patience, terming them inventions against religion and the moral virtues, yet on the other side, to compensate, they are perfect in those same plain grounds of religion, justice, honor, and moral virtue, which if they be well and watchfully pursued, there will be seldom use of those other, no more than of physic in a sound or well-dieted body. Neither can the experience of one man’s life furnish examples and precedents for the events of one man’s life. For as it happens sometimes that the grandchild or other descendant resembles the ancestor more than the son, so many times occurrences of present times may agree better with ancient examples than with those of the later or immediate times. And lastly, the wit of one man can no more countervail learning than one man’s means can equal a common purse.

And as for those particular seducements or indispositions of the mind for policy and government, which learning is pretended to insinuate, if it be granted that any such thing be, it must be remembered withal that learning ministers in every one of them greater strength of medicine or remedy than it offers cause of indispositions or infirmity. For if by a secret operation it makes men perplexed and irresolute, on the other side by plain precept it teaches them when and upon what ground to resolve, yea, and how to carry things in suspense without prejudice till they resolve. If it makes men positive and regular, it teaches them what things are in their nature demonstrative, and what are conjectural, and as well the use of distinctions and exceptions, as the latitude of principles and rules. If it misleads by disproportion or dissimilitude of examples, it teaches men the force of circumstances, the errors of comparisons and all the cautions of applications, so that in all these it does rectify more effectually than it can pervert. And these medicines it conveys into men’s minds much more forcibly by the quickness and penetration of examples. For let a man look into the errors of Clement the seventh, so lively described by Guicciardine who served under him, or into the errors of Cicero painted out by his own pencil in his epistles to Atticus, and he will fly apace from being irresolute. Let him look into the errors of Phocion, and he will beware how he be obstinate and inflexible. Let him but read the fable of Ixion, and it will hold him from being vaporous or imaginative. Let him look into the errors of Cato the second, and he will never be one of the Antipodes, to tread opposite to the present world.

And for the conceit that learning should dispose men to leisure and privateness, and make men slothful, it were a strange thing if that which accustoms the mind to a perpetual motion and agitation should induce slothfulness. Whereas contrariwise it may be truly affirmed that no kind of men love business for itself but those that are learned, for other persons love it for profit, as a hireling that loves the work for the wages; or for honor, as because it bears them up in the eyes of men and refreshes their reputation which otherwise would wear; or because it puts them in mind of their fortune, and gives them occasion to pleasure and displeasure; or because it exercises some faculty wherein they take pride and so entertains them in good humor and pleasing conceits toward themselves, or because it advances any other of their ends. So that as it is said of untrue valors that some men’s valors are in the eyes of them that look on, so such men’s industries are in the eyes of others, or at least in regard of their own design. Only learned men love business as an action according to nature, as agreeable to health of mind as exercise is to health of body, taking pleasure in the action itself and not in the purchase; so that of all men they are the most indefatigable, if it be towards any business which can hold or detain their mind.

And if any man be laborious in reading and study and yet idle in business and action, it grows from some weakness of body or softness of spirit (such as Seneca speaks of: “there are some men so fond of the shade that they think they are in trouble whenever they are in the light”) and not of learning. Well may it be that such a point of a man’s nature may make him give himself to learning, but it is not learning that breeds any such point in his nature.

And that learning should take up too much time or leisure, I answer, the most active or busy man that has been or can be has (no question) many vacant times of leisure, while he expects the tides and returns of business (except he be either tedious and of no dispatch, or lightly and unworthily ambitious to meddle in things that may be better done by others) and then the question is but how those spaces and times of leisure shall be filled and spent—whether in pleasures or in studies, as was well answered by Demosthenes to his adversary Aeschines who was a man given to pleasure and told him that his “orations did smell of the lamp: Indeed (said Demosthenes) there is a great difference between the things that you and I do by lamp light.” So as no man need doubt that learning will expulse business, but rather it will keep and defend the possession of the mind against idleness and pleasure, which otherwise at unawares may enter to the prejudice of both.

Again, for that other conceit that learning should undermine the reverence of laws and government, it is assuredly a mere depravation and calumny without all shadow of truth. For to say that a blind custom of obedience should be a surer obligation than duty taught and understood, is to affirm that a blind man may tread surer by a guide than a seeing man can by a light. And it is without all controversy that learning does make the minds of men gentle, generous, and pliant to government, whereas ignorance makes them churlish, thwart, and mutinous. And the evidence of time does clear this assertion, considering that the most barbarous, rude, and unlearned times have been most subject to tumults, seditions, and changes.

And as for the judgment of Cato the Censor, he was well punished for his blasphemy against learning, in the same kind wherein he offended, for when he was past three score years old, he was taken with an extreme desire to go to school again and to learn the Greek tongue, to the end to peruse the Greek authors, which does well demonstrate that his former censure of the Grecian learning was rather an affected gravity than according to the inward sense of his own opinion. And as for Virgil’s verses, though it pleased him to brave the world in taking to the Romans the art of empire and leaving to others the arts of subjects, yet so much is manifest, that the Romans never ascended to that height of empire till the time they had ascended to the height of other arts. For in the time of the two first Caesars, which had the art of government in greatest perfection, there lived the best poet, Virgilius Maro; the best historiographer, Titus Livius; the best antiquarian, Marcus Varro; and the best or second best orator, Marcus Cicero, that to the memory of men are known. As for the accusation of Socrates, the time must be remembered when it was prosecuted, which was under the thirty tyrants, the most base, bloody, and envious persons that have governed, which revolution of state was no sooner over, but Socrates, whom they had made a person criminal, was made a person heroic and his memory accumulated with honors divine and human. And those discourses of his, which were then termed corrupting of manners, were after acknowledged for sovereign medicines of the mind and manners and so have been received ever since till this day.

Let this, therefore, serve for answer to politicians, who in their humorous severity or in their feigned gravity have presumed to throw imputations upon learning; which disapproval nevertheless (save that we know not whether our labors may extend to other ages) were not needful for the present, in view of the love and reverence towards learning which the example and countenance of two so learned princes, queen Elizabeth and your Majesty, being as Castor and Pollux, lucida sidera, stars of excellent light and most benign influence, has wrought in all men of place and authority in our nation.

[Objection 3 and Response]

Now, therefore, we come to that third sort of discredit or diminution of credit that grows unto learning from learned men themselves, which commonly cleaves fastest. It is either from their fortune, or from their manners, or from the nature of their studies. For the first, it is not in their power, and the second is accidental, the third only is proper to be handled. But because we are not concerned with true measure, but with popular estimation and conceit, it is not amiss to speak somewhat of the two former. The derogations therefore which grow to learning from the fortune or condition of learned men, are either in respect of scarcity of means, or in respect of privateness of life and meanness of employments.

Concerning want, and that it is the case of learned men usually to begin with little and not to grow rich so fast as other men, by reason they convert not their labors chiefly to lucre and increase, it were good to leave the common commendation of poverty to some friar to handle, to whom much was attributed by Machiavelli in this point when he said “the kingdom of the clergy had been long before at an end, if the reputation and reverence towards the poverty of friars had not balanced out the scandal of the superfluities and excesses of bishops and prelates.” So a man might say that the felicity and delicacy of princes and great persons had long since turned to rudeness and barbarism, if the poverty of learning had not kept up civility and honor of life. But without any such advantages, it is worth observing what a reverend and honored thing poverty of fortune was for some ages in the Roman state, which nevertheless was a state without paradoxes. For we see what Titus Livius said in his introduction: “if love for my subject does not deceive me, there was never any republic in the world either greater or purer or richer in good examples; nor any into which avarice and luxury came so late; nor any in which poverty and thrift were held in great honor for so long a time.” We see likewise, after that the state of Rome was not itself but did degenerate, how that person that took upon him to be counselor to Julius Caesar after his victory, to begin his restoration of the state, makes it of all points the most summary to take away the estimation of wealth: “truly these and all other evils will cease as soon as the worship of money ceases, and if neither magistracies nor other things that are desired by the vulgar shall be had for money.”

To conclude this point, as it was truly said that “a blush is virtue’s color,” though sometimes it comes from vice; so it may be fitly said that “poverty is virtue’s fortune,” though sometimes it may proceed from misgovernment and accident. Surely Solomon has pronounced it, both in censure: “he who hastens to be rich shall not be innocent”; and in precept: “buy the truth, and sell it not, and so of wisdom and knowledge,” judging that means were to be spent upon learning, and not learning to be applied to means. And as for the privateness or obscurity (as it may be in vulgar estimation accounted) of life of contemplative men, it is a theme so common to extol a private life, not taxed with sensuality and sloth, in comparison and to the disadvantage of a civil life, for safety, liberty, pleasure, and dignity, or at least freedom from indignity, as no man handles it but handles it well; such a consonance it has to men’s conceits in the expressing and to men’s consents in the allowing. This only I will add, that learned men forgotten in states, and not living in the eyes of men, are like the images of Cassius and Brutus in the funeral of Junia, of which not being represented, as many others were, Tacitus said “they had the preeminence over all, in being left out.”

And for meanness of employment, that which is most traduced to contempt is that the government of youth is commonly allotted to them, which because it is the age of least authority, it is transferred to the disesteeming of those employments wherein youth is conversant, and which are conversant about youth. But how unjust this traducement is (if you will reduce things from popularity of opinion to measure of reason) may appear in that we see men are more careful about what they put into a new vessel than into a vessel seasoned, and what mold they lay about a young plant than about a full grown plant, so as the weakest terms and times of all things are accustomed to having the best applications and helps. And will you hearken to the Hebrew Rabbis: “your young men shall see visions, and your old men shall dream dreams.” So the youth is the worthier age, for that visions are nearer apparitions of God than dreams. And let it be noted that howsoever the conditions of life of pedants have been scorned upon theaters, as the ape of tyranny; and that the modern looseness or negligence has taken no due regard to the choice of school masters and tutors, yet the ancient wisdom of the best times did always make a just complaint that states were too busy with their laws and too negligent in point of education, which excellent part of ancient discipline has been in some sort revived of late times by the colleges of the Jesuits of whom, although in regard of their superstition I may say “the better the worse,” yet in regard of this, and some other points concerning human learning and moral matters, I may say, as Agesilaus said to his enemy Pharnabazus, “you are so good that I wish you were one of us.” And thus much touching the discredits drawn from the fortunes of learned men.

As touching the manners of learned men, it is a thing personal and individual, and no doubt there be among them, as in other professions, all temperaments. But yet, so it is not without truth which is said that studies have an influence and operation upon the manners of those that are conversant in them and that learning, unless the mind into which it enters be much depraved, corrects the natural disposition and changes it for the better.

But upon an attentive and indifferent review, I for my part cannot find any disgrace to learning proceeding from the manners of learned men, not inherent to them as they are learned, except it be a fault (which was the supposed fault of Demosthenes, Cicero, Cato the second, Seneca, and many more) that because the times they read of are commonly better than the times they live in, and the duties taught better than the duties practiced, they contend sometimes too far to bring things to perfection, and to reduce the corruption of manners to honesty of precepts or examples of too great height. And yet here they have caveats enough in their own walks. For Solon, when he was asked whether he had given his citizens the best laws, answered wisely, “Yea, of such as they would receive.” And Plato, finding that his own heart could not agree with the corrupt manners of his country, refused to hold place or office, saying: “a man’s country was to be used as his parents were, that is with humble persuasions, and not with contendings.” And Caesar’s counselor put in the same caveat, “not to attempt to bring things back to the original institution, now that the ancient simplicity and purity had fallen into contempt because of the corruptions of manners.” And Cicero noted this error directly in Cato the second, when he writes to his friend Atticus: “Cato means very well, but he sometimes injures the republic, for he talks as if it were Plato’s Republic that we are living in, and not the dregs of Romulus.” And the same Cicero does excuse and expound the philosophers for going too far and being too exact in their precepts when he says “those preceptors and teachers of virtue have set the limits of duty somewhat beyond what nature will bear in order to allow for shortcomings, and that our endeavors aiming beyond the mark and falling short, should light at the right place,” and yet he might have said that “I fell short of my own precepts,” for it was his own fault, though not in so extreme a degree.

Another fault likewise much of this kind has been incident to learned men, which is that they have esteemed the preservation, good, and honor of their countries or masters before their own fortunes or safeties. For so said Demosthenes to the Athenians: “If it please you to note it, my counsels unto you are not such whereby I should grow great among you, and you become little among the Grecians, but they be of that nature as they are sometimes not good for me to give, but are always good for you to follow.” And so Seneca, after he had consecrated Quinquennium Neronis [the first five years of Nero’s reign] to the eternal glory of learned governors, held on his honest and loyal course of good and free counsel, after his master grew extremely corrupt in his government. Neither can this point otherwise be. For learning endows men’s minds with a true sense of the frailty of their persons, the casualty of their fortunes, and the dignity of their soul and vocation, so that it is impossible for them to esteem that any greatness of their own fortune can be a true or worthy end of their being and ordainment. And, therefore, they are desirous to give their account to God and so likewise to their masters under God (as kings and the states they serve) in these words: “lo, I have gained for you,” not “lo, I have gained for myself.” Whereas the more corrupt sort of mere politicians that have not their thoughts established by learning in the love and apprehension of duty, nor never look abroad into universality, do refer all things to themselves, and thrust themselves into the center of the world, as if all lines should meet in them and their fortunes, never caring in all tempests what becomes of the ship of state, so they may save themselves in the cock boat of their own fortune. Whereas men that feel the weight of duty, and know the limits of self-love, are true to their places and duties, though with peril. And if they survive in seditious and violent alterations, it is rather the reverence which many times both opposed parties do give to honesty, than any versatile advantage of their own carriage. But for this point of tender sense and fast obligation of duty, which learning does endow the mind withal, howsoever fortune may tax it and many in the depth of their corrupt principles may despise it, yet it will receive an open allowance, and therefore needs the less disproof or excuse.

Another fault incident commonly to learned men, which may be more probably defended than truly denied, is that they fail sometimes in applying themselves to particular persons. Which want of exact application arises from two causes: the one, because the largeness of their mind can hardly confine itself to dwell in the exquisite observation or examination of the nature and customs of one person, for it is a speech for a lover and not for a wise man: “each is to the other a theater large enough.” Nevertheless I shall admit that he that cannot contract the sight of his mind as well as disperse and dilate it, wants a great faculty. But there is a second cause, which is no inability but a rejection upon choice and judgment. For the honest and just bounds of observation by one person upon another extend no further but to understand him sufficiently, whereby not to give him offense, or whereby to be able to give him faithful counsel, or whereby to stand upon reasonable guard and caution in respect of a man’s self. But to be speculative into another man, to the end to know how to work him or wind him or govern him, proceeds from a heart that is double and cloven, and not entire and ingenuous, which as in friendship it is want of integrity, so towards princes or superiors it is want of duty. For the custom of the Levant, which is that subjects do forbear to gaze or fix their eyes upon princes, is in the outward ceremony barbarous, but the moral is good, for men ought not by cunning and bent observations to pierce and penetrate into the hearts of kings, which the Scripture has declared to be inscrutable.

There is yet another fault (with which I will conclude this part) which is often noted in learned men, that they do many times fail to observe decency and discretion in their behavior and carriage, and commit errors in small and ordinary points of action, so as the vulgar sort of capacities do make a judgment of them in greater matters by that which they find wanting in them in smaller. But this consequence does often deceive men, for which I do refer them to that which was said by Themistocles (arrogantly and uncivilly being applied to himself out of his own mouth, but being applied to the general state of this question pertinently and justly), when being invited to touch a lute, he said he “could not fiddle,” but he could “make a small town a great state.” So no doubt many may be well versed in the passages of government and policy, which are to seek in little and punctual occasions. I refer them also to that which Plato said of his master Socrates, whom he compared to the gally pots of apothecaries, which on the outside had apes and owls and antiques, but contained within sovereign and precious liquors and confections, acknowledging that to an external report he was not without superficial levities and deformities, but was inwardly replenished with excellent virtues and powers. And so much touching the point of manners in learned men.

But in the mean time I have no purpose to give allowance to some conditions and courses base and unworthy, wherein diverse professors of learning have wronged themselves and gone too far, such as were those trencher philosophers, which in the later age of the Roman state were usually in the houses of great persons, being little better than solemn parasites, of which kind Lucian makes a merry description of the philosopher that the great lady took to ride with her in her coach and would needs have him carry her little dog, which he doing officiously and yet uncomely, the page scoffed and said that he “doubted the philosopher of a Stoic would turn to be a Cynic.” But above all the rest, the gross and palpable flattery whereunto many (not unlearned) have abased and abused their wits and pens, turning (as Du Barta said) Hecuba into Helena and Faustina into Lucretia, has most diminished the price and estimation of learning. Neither is the customary dedications of books and writings, as to patrons, to be commended. For books (such as are worthy the name of books) ought to have no patrons but truth and reason; and the ancient custom was to dedicate them only to private and equal friends, or to entitle the books with their names, or if to kings and great persons, it was to some such as the argument of the book was fit and proper for. But these and the like courses may deserve rather reprehension than defense.

Not that I can tax or condemn the application of learned men to men in fortune. For the answer was good that Diogenes made to one that asked him in mockery, “how it came to pass that philosophers were the followers of rich men, and not rich men of philosophers?” He answered soberly, and yet sharply, “because the one sort knew what they had need of, and the other did not.” And of the like nature was the answer which Aristippus made, when having a petition to Dionysius and no ear given to him, he fell down at his feet, whereupon Dionysius stayed and gave him the hearing and granted it; and afterward some person tender on the behalf of philosophy reproved Aristippus that he would offer the profession of philosophy such an indignity, as for a private suit to fall at a tyrant’s feet, but he answered, “it was not his fault, but it was the fault of Dionysius, that had his ears in his feet.” Neither was it accounted weakness, but discretion, in him that would not dispute his best with Adrianus Caesar, excusing himself, “that it was reason to yield to him that commanded thirty legions.” These and the like applications and stooping to points of necessity and convenience cannot be disallowed, for though they may have some outward baseness, yet in a judgment truly made they are to be accounted submissions to the occasion and not to the person.

Now I proceed to those errors and vanities which have intervened among the studies themselves of the learned, which is that which is principal and proper to the present argument, wherein my purpose is not to make a justification of the errors, but, by a censure and separation of the errors, to make a justification of that which is good and sound, and to deliver that from the aspersion of the other. For we see that it is the manner of men to scandalize and deprave that which retains the state and virtue, by taking advantage of that which is corrupt and degenerate, as the heathens in the primitive church used to blemish and taint the Christians with the faults and corruptions of heretics. But nevertheless I have no intention at this time to make any exact animadversion of the errors and impediments in matters of learning which are more secret and remote from vulgar opinion, but only to speak to such as do fall under, or near to, popular observation.

There be, therefore, chiefly three vanities in studies whereby learning has been most defamed. For those things we do esteem vain, which are either false or frivolous, those which either have no truth or no use, and those persons we esteem vain, who are either credulous or curious, and curiosity is either in matter or words, so that in reason as well as in experience, there fall out to be these three distempers (as I may term them) of learning: the first, fantastic learning; the second, contentious learning; and the last, delicate learning; vain imaginations, vain altercations, and vain affectations; and with the last I will begin.

Martin Luther, conducted no doubt by a higher Providence, but in discourse of reason finding what a province he had undertaken against the Bishop of Rome and the degenerate traditions of the church, and finding his own solitude, being no way aided by the opinions of his own time, was forced to awake all antiquity, and to call former times to his succors to make a party against the present time; so that the ancient authors, both in divinity and in humanity, which had long time slept in libraries, began generally to be read and revolved. This by consequence did draw on a necessity of a more exquisite labor in the original languages wherein those authors did write, for the better understanding of those authors and the better advantage of pressing and applying their words. And thereof grew again a delight in their manner of style and phrase, and an admiration of that kind of writing, which was much furthered and precipitated by the enmity and opposition that the propounders of those (primitive but seeming new) opinions had against the schoolmen who were generally of the contrary part, and whose writings were altogether in a differing style and form; taking liberty to coin and frame new terms of art to express their own sense and to avoid circuit of speech, without regard to the pureness, pleasantness, and (as I may call it) lawfulness of the phrase or word. And again, because the great labor then was with the people (of whom the Pharisees were wont to say “the wretched mob that has not known the law”), for the winning and persuading of them, there grew of necessity in chief value and request eloquence and variety of discourse, as the fittest and most forceful access into the capacity of the vulgar sort. So that these four causes concurring, the admiration of ancient authors, the hate of the schoolmen, the exact study of languages, and the efficacy of preaching, did bring in an affected study of eloquence and copiousness of speech which then began to flourish.

This grew speedily to an excess. For men began to hunt more after words than matter and more after the choiceness of the phrase, and the round and clean composition of the sentence, and the sweet falling of the clauses, and the varying and illustration of their works with tropes and figures, than after the weight of matter, worth of subject, soundness of argument, life of invention, or depth of judgment. Then grew the flowing and watery vein of Osorius, the Portugal bishop, to be valued. Then did Sturmius spend such infinite and curious pains upon Cicero the orator and Hermogenes the rhetorician, besides his own books of periods and imitation and the like. Then did Carr of Cambridge, and Ascham, with their lectures and writings, almost deify Cicero and Demosthenes, and allure all young men that were studious unto that delicate and polished kind of learning. Then did Erasmus take occasion to make the scoffing echo: “I have spent ten years in reading Cicero,” and the echo answered in Greek, “one, Asine.” Then grew the learning of the schoolmen to be utterly despised as barbarous. In sum, the whole inclination and bent of those times was rather towards copiousness than weight.

Here, therefore, is the first distemper of learning, when men study words and not matter, whereof though I have represented an example of late times, yet it has been and will be more or less in all time. And how is it possible but this should have an operation to discredit learning, even with vulgar capacities, when they see learned men’s works like the first letter of a patent or illustrated book, which though it has large flourishes, yet it is but a letter? It seems to me that Pygmalion’s frenzy is a good emblem or portraiture of this vanity, for words are but the images of matter, and except when they have life of reason and invention, to fall in love with them is all one as to fall in love with a picture.

But yet it is a thing not hastily to be condemned, to clothe and adorn the obscurity even of philosophy itself with sensible and plausible elocution. For we have great examples in Xenophon, Cicero, Seneca, Plutarch, and of Plato also in some degree. And hereof likewise there is great use. For surely to the severe inquisition of truth, and the deep progress into philosophy, it is some hindrance, because it is too early satisfactory to the mind of man, and quenches the desire of further search, before we come to a just conclusion. But then, if a man is to have any use of such knowledge in civil occasions, of conference, counsel, persuasion, discourse, or the like, then shall he find it prepared to his hands in those authors which write in that manner. But the excess of this is so justly contemptible that, as Hercules, when he saw the image of Adonis, Venus’ minion, in a temple, said in disdain “you are no divinity,” so there is none of Hercules’ followers in learning, that is, the more severe and laborious sort of inquirers into truth, but will despise those delicacies and affectations, as indeed capable of no divineness. And thus much of the first disease or distemper of learning.

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

This same unprofitable subtlety or curiosity is of two sorts: either in the subject itself that they handle when it is a fruitless speculation or controversy (whereof there are no small number both in divinity and philosophy), or in the manner or method of handling of a knowledge—which among them was this: upon every particular position or assertion to frame objections, and to those objections, solutions, which solutions were for the most part not confutations but distinctions; whereas indeed the strength of all sciences is, as the strength of the old man’s faggot, in the bond. For the harmony of a science, supporting each part the other, is and ought to be the true and brief confutation and suppression of all the smaller sort of objections. But, on the other side, if you take out every axiom, as the sticks of the faggot, one by one, you may quarrel with them and bend them and break them at your pleasure, so that as was said of Seneca: “he broke up the weight and mass of the matter by verbal points and niceties,” so a man may truly say of the schoolmen, “they broke up the solidity of the sciences by the minuteness of their questions.”

For were it not better for a man in a fair room to set up one great light, or branching candlestick of lights, than to go about with a small watch candle into every corner? And such is their method, that rests not so much upon evidence of truth proved by arguments, authorities, similitudes, or examples, as upon particular confutations and solutions of every scruple, cavillation, and objection; breaking for the most part one question as fast it solves another; even as in the former resemblance, when you carry the light into one corner, you darken the rest. So that the fable and fiction of Scylla seems to be a lively image of this kind of philosophy or knowledge, who was transformed into a comely virgin for the upper parts, but then “there were barking monsters all about her loins.” So the generalities of the schoolmen are for a while good and proportional, but then when you descend into their distinctions and decisions, instead of fruitful womb for the use and benefit of man’s life, they end in monstrous altercations and barking questions. So as it is not possible but this quality of knowledge must fall under popular contempt, the people being apt to condemn truth upon occasion of controversies and altercations, and to think they are all out of their way which never meet; and when they see such wrangling about subtleties and matter of no use nor moment, they easily fall upon that judgment of Dionysius of Syracuse: “it is the talk of idle old men.”

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

For the third vice or disease of learning, which concerns deceit or untruth, it is of all the rest the most foul, as that which does destroy the essential form of knowledge, which is nothing but a representation of truth. For the truth of being and the truth of knowing are one, differing no more than the direct beam and the beam reflected. This vice, therefore, branches itself into two sorts: delight in deceiving, and aptness to be deceived; imposture and credulity; which, although they appear to be of a diverse nature, the one seeming to proceed of cunning, and the other of simplicity, yet certainly they do for the most part concur, as the verse notes: “I flee the inquisitive man, because he is a tattler,” an inquisitive man is a prattler. So upon the like reason a credulous man is a deceiver, as we see it in fame, that he that will easily believe rumors will as easily augment rumors and add somewhat to them of his own, which Tacitus wisely notes when he says “as fast as they believe a rumor, they add to it,” so great an affinity has fiction and belief.

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

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

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

And as for the overmuch credit that has been given to authors in sciences, in making them dictators, that their words should stand, and not counsels to give advice; the damage is infinite that sciences have received thereby, as the principal cause that has kept them low, at a stay without growth or advancement. For hence it has come that in arts mechanical the first deviser comes shortest, and time adds and perfects. But in sciences, the first author goes furthest, and time corrupts. So we see, artillery, sailing, printing, and the like, were grossly managed at first, and by time accommodated and refined; but contrariwise, the philosophies and sciences of Aristotle, Plato, Democritus, Hippocrates, Euclid, Archimedes, of most vigor at the first, and by time degenerate and debased. Whereof the reason is no other, but that in the former many wits and industries have contributed in one; and in the latter many wits and industries have been spent about the wit of some one, whom many times they have rather depraved than illustrated. For as water will not ascend higher than the level of the first spring head from whence it descends, so knowledge derived from Aristotle, and exempted from liberty of examination, will not rise again higher than the knowledge of Aristotle.

And, therefore, although the position be good, “the learner must be content to believe what he is taught,” yet it must be coupled with this, “the educated man must exercise his judgment.” For disciples do owe unto masters only a temporary belief and a suspension of their own judgment until they be fully instructed, and not an absolute resignation or perpetual captivity. And, therefore, to conclude this point, I will say no more but, so let great authors have their due, as time which is the author of authors be not deprived of his due, which is further and further to discover truth. Thus have I gone over these three diseases of learning; besides the which, there are some other rather peccant humors than formed diseases, which nevertheless are not so secret and intrinsic but that they fall under a popular observation and traducement, and therefore are not to be passed over.

The first of these is the extreme affecting of two extremities: the one Antiquity, the other Novelty, wherein it seems the children of time do take after the nature and malice of the father. For as he devours his children, so one of them seeks to devour and suppress the other. While antiquity envies there should be new additions, novelty cannot be content to add but it must deface. Surely the advice of the prophet is the true direction in this matter: “stand in the old ways, and see which is the good way, and walk therein.” Antiquity deserves that reverence, that men should make a stand thereupon and discover what is the best way, but when the discovery is well taken, then to make progression. And to speak truly, “the ancient generation is the youth of the world.” These times are the ancient times, when the world is ancient, and not those which we account ancient by a computation backward from ourselves.

Another error, induced by the former, is a distrust that anything should now be found out, which the world should have missed and passed over so long a time. As if the same objection were to be made to time that Lucian made to Jupiter and other of the heathen gods, of which he wondered that they begot so many children in old time and begot none in his time, and asked whether they had become septuagenary, or whether the law Pappia made against old men’s marriages had restrained them. So it seems men doubt lest time is become past children and generation, wherein contrariwise we see commonly the levity and inconstancy of men’s judgments, which, till a matter be done, wonder that it can be done, and as soon as it is done, wonder again that it was not sooner done, as we see in the expedition of Alexander into Asia, which at first was prejudged as a vast and impossible enterprise, and yet afterwards it pleased Livy to make no more of it than this: “it was nothing but being bold enough to despise vain apprehensions.” And the same happened to Columbus in the western navigation. But in intellectual matters it is much more common, as may be seen in most of the propositions of Euclid, which till they are demonstrated seem strange to our assent, but being demonstrated our mind accepts them by a kind of relation (as the lawyers speak) as if we had known them before.

Another error that has also some affinity with the former, is a conceit that of former opinions or sects, after examination, the best has still prevailed and suppressed the rest, so as if a man should begin the labor of a new search, he were but like to light upon something formerly rejected and by rejection brought into oblivion. As if the multitude, or the wisest for the multitude’s sake, were not ready to give passage rather to that which is popular and superficial than to that which is substantial and profound. For the truth is, that time seems to be of the nature of a river or stream, which carries down to us that which is light and blown up, and sinks and drowns that which is weighty and solid.

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

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

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

Another error that has some connection with this latter is, that men have infected their meditations, opinions, and doctrines, with some conceits which they have most admired, or some sciences which they have most applied, and given all things else a tincture according to them, utterly untrue and improper. So has Plato intermingled his philosophy with theology, and Aristotle with logic, and the second school of Plato, Proclus and the rest, with mathematics. For these were the arts which had a kind of primogeniture with them severally. So have the alchemists made a philosophy out of a few experiments of the furnace, and Gilbert, our countryman, has made a philosophy out of the observations of a lodestone. So Cicero when, reciting the several opinions of the nature of the soul, he found a musician that held the soul was but a harmony, said pleasantly, “he did not withdraw from his own art.” But of these conceits, Aristotle speaks seriously and wisely when he says “they who take only a few points into account find it easy to pronounce judgment.”

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

Another error is in the manner of the tradition and delivery of knowledge, which is for the most part magisterial and peremptory, and not ingenuous and faithful; in a sort as may be soonest believed and not easiest examined. It is true that in compendious treatises for practice that form is not to be disallowed. But in the true handling of knowledge, men ought not to fall either on the one side into the vein of Velleius the Epicurean, “who feared nothing so much as appearing to be in doubt about anything,” nor on the other side into Socrates’ ironical doubting of all things, but to propound things sincerely, with more or less affirmation, as they stand in a man’s own judgment proved more or less.

Other errors there are in the scope that men propound to themselves, whereunto they bend their endeavors. For whereas the more constant and devout kind of professors of any science ought to propound to themselves to make some additions to their science, they convert their labors to aspire to certain second prizes, as to be a profound interpreter or commentator, to be a sharp champion or defender, to be a methodical compounder or abridger, and so the patrimony of knowledge comes to be sometimes improved, but seldom augmented.

But the greatest error of all the rest is the mistaking or misplacing of the last or furthest end of knowledge. For men have entered into a desire of learning and knowledge, sometimes upon a natural curiosity and inquisitive appetite, sometimes to entertain their minds with variety and delight, sometimes for ornament and reputation, and sometimes to enable them to victory of wit and contradiction, and most times for lucre and profession, and seldom sincerely to give a true account of their gift of reason, to the benefit and use of men; as if there were sought in knowledge a couch, whereupon to rest a searching and restless spirit, or a terrace for a wandering and variable mind to walk up and down with a fair prospect, or a tower of state for a proud mind to raise itself upon, or a fort or commanding ground for strife and contention, or a shop for profit or sale, and not a rich storehouse, for the glory of the Creator and the relief of man’s estate. But this is that which will indeed dignify and exalt knowledge, if contemplation and action may be more nearly and straightway conjoined and united together than they have been: a conjunction like unto that of the two highest planets, Saturn the planet of rest and contemplation, and Jupiter the planet of civil society and action. However, I do not mean, when I speak of use and action, that end before mentioned of the applying of knowledge to lucre and profession, for I am not ignorant how much that diverts and interrupts the prosecution and advancement of knowledge; like unto the golden balls thrown before Atalanta, which while she goes aside and stoops to take up the race is hindered, “she swerves from the course and picks up the golden ball.” Neither is my meaning, as was spoken of Socrates, to call philosophy down from heaven to converse upon the earth; that is, to leave natural philosophy aside, and to apply knowledge only to manners and policy. But as both heaven and earth do conspire and contribute to the use and benefit of man, so the end ought to be, from both philosophies to separate and reject vain speculations and whatever is empty and void, and to preserve and augment whatever is solid and fruitful, that knowledge may not be as a courtesan, for pleasure and vanity only, or as a bond woman to acquire and gain to her master’s use, but as a spouse, for generation, fruit, and comfort.

Thus have I described and opened, as by a kind of dissection, those peccant humors (the principal of them) which have not only given impediment to the proficiency of learning, but have given also occasion to the misrepresentation thereof; wherein, if I have been too plain, it must be remembered, “faithful are the wounds of a friend, but the kisses of an enemy are deceitful.” This I think I have gained, that I ought to be the better believed in that which I shall say pertaining to commendation, because I have proceeded so freely in that which concerns censure. And yet I have no purpose to enter into a laudative of learning, or to make a hymn to the muses (though I am of opinion that it is long since their rites were duly celebrated), but my intent is, without varnish or amplification, justly to weigh the dignity of knowledge in the balance with other things, and to take the true value thereof by testimonies and arguments divine and human.

[The Dignity of Learning]

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

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

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

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

So in the distribution of days, we see the day wherein God did rest and contemplate his own works, was blessed above all the days wherein he did effect and accomplish them.

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

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

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

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

So likewise in that excellent book of Job, if it be read with diligence, it will be found pregnant and swelling with natural philosophy, as, for example, cosmography and the roundness of the world: “who stretches out the north upon the empty space, and hangs the earth upon nothing,” wherein the hanging position of the earth, the pole of the north, and the finiteness or convexity of heaven are manifestly touched. So again matter of astronomy: “by his spirit he has garnished the heavens, his hand has formed the crooked Serpent.” And in another place: “can you bring together the glittering stars of the Pleiades, or scatter the array of Arcturus?” where the fixing of the stars, ever standing at equal distance, is with great elegance noted. And in another place, “who makes Arcturus, Orion, and Hyades, and the secrets of the South,” where again he takes knowledge of the depression of the southern pole, calling it the secrets of the south because the southern stars were in that climate unseen. Matter of generation: “have you not drawn me forth like milk and curdled me like cheese?” Matter of minerals: “surely there is a vein for the silver, and a place for gold where they refine it. Iron is taken out of the earth, and brass is molten out of the stone,” and so forward in the chapter.

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

Neither did the dispensation of God vary in the times after our Savior came into the world, for our Savior himself did first show his power to subdue ignorance by his conference with the priests and doctors of the law, before he showed his power to subdue nature by his miracles. And the coming of the Holy Spirit was chiefly figured and expressed in the similitude and gift of tongues, which are but conveyors of knowledge.

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

So we find that many of the ancient bishops and fathers of the Church were excellently read and studied in all the learning of the heathen, insomuch that the edict of the emperor Julian (whereby it was interdicted unto Christians to be admitted into schools, lectures, or exercises of learning), was esteemed and accounted a more pernicious engine and machination against the Christian faith, than were all the sanguinary persecutions of his predecessors. Neither could the emulation and jealousy of Gregory the first of that name, bishop of Rome, ever obtain the reputation of piety or devotion; but contrariwise receive the censure of humor, malignity, and pusillanimity, even among holy men, in that he designed to obliterate and extinguish the memory of heathen antiquity and authors. But contrariwise, it was the Christian Church, which amidst the inundations of the Scythians on the one side from the northwest and the Saracens from the east, did preserve in the sacred lap and bosom thereof, the precious relics even of heathen learning, which otherwise had been extinguished as if no such things had ever been.

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

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

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

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

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

Which felicity of times under learned princes (to keep still the law of brevity, by using the most eminent and selected examples) does best appear in the age which passed from the death of Domitian the emperor until the reign of Commodus, comprehending a succession of six princes, all learned or singular favorers and advancers of learning. Which age, for temporal respects, was the most happy and flourishing that ever the Roman empire (which then was a model of the world) enjoyed; a matter revealed and prefigured to Domitian in a dream the night before he was slain; for he thought there was grown behind upon his shoulders a neck and a head of gold, which came accordingly to pass in those golden times which succeeded: of which princes we will make some commemoration, wherein although the matter will be vulgar, and may be thought fitter for a declamation than agreeable to a treatise involved as this is, yet because it is pertinent to the point in hand “and Apollo does not keep his bow always bent,” to name them only were too naked and cursory, I will not omit it altogether.

The first was Nerva, the excellent temper of whose government is by a glance in Cornelius Tacitus touched to the life: “he united and reconciled two things which used not to go together—government and liberty.” And in token of his learning, the last act of his short reign left to memory was a missive to his adopted son Trajan, proceeding upon some inward discontent at the ingratitude of the times, comprehended in a verse of Homer’s: “O Phoebe, with your shafts avenge these tears.”

Trajan, who succeeded, was for his person not learned. But if we will hearken to the speech of our Savior, that says “he that receives a prophet in the name of a prophet, shall have a prophet’s reward,” he deserves to be placed among the most learned princes, for there was not a greater admirer of learning or benefactor of learning: a founder of famous libraries, a perpetual advancer of learned men to office, and a familiar converser with learned professors and preceptors, who were noted to have then most credit in court. On the other side, how much Trajan’s virtue and government was admired and renowned, surely no testimony of grave and faithful history does more lively set forth, than that legend tale of Gregory the Great, bishop of Rome, who was noted for the extreme envy he bore towards all heathen excellence, and yet he is reported, out of the love and estimation of Trajan’s moral virtues, to have made unto God passionate and fervent prayers for the delivery of his soul out of hell, and to have obtained it, with a caveat that he should make no more such petitions. In this prince’s time also the persecutions against the Christians received intermission, upon the certificate of Pliny the second, a man of excellent learning and by Trajan advanced.

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

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

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

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

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

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

And herein again it may seem a thing scholastical, and somewhat idle, to recite things that every man knows, but yet since the argument I handle leads me thereunto, I am glad that men shall perceive I am as willing to flatter (if they will so call it) an Alexander or a Caesar or an Antoninus, that are dead many hundred years since, as any that now live: for it is the displaying of the glory of learning in sovereignty that I propound to myself, and not a humor of declaiming in any man’s praises. Observe then the speech he used of Diogenes, and see if it tend not to the true state of one of the greatest questions of moral philosophy—whether the enjoying of outward things or the condemning of them be the greatest happiness? For when he saw Diogenes so perfectly contented with so little, he said to those that mocked at his condition, “were I not Alexander, I would wish to be Diogenes.” But Seneca inverts it, and says: “there were more things which Diogenes would have refused, than those were which Alexander could have given or enjoyed.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

Weigh also that excellent taxation of an error ordinary with counselors of princes, that they counsel their masters according to the model of their own mind and fortune, and not of their masters; when upon Darius’ great offers Parmenio had said, “surely, I would accept these offers, were I as Alexander,” and Alexander said “so would I, were I as Parmenio.”

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

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

As for Julius Caesar, the excellency of his learning need not be argued from his education or his company or his speeches, but in a further degree does declare itself in his writings and works, whereof some are extant and permanent, and some unfortunately perished. For first, we see there is left to us that excellent history of his own wars, which he entitled only a Commentary, wherein all succeeding times have admired the solid weight of matter and the real passages and lively images of actions and persons expressed in the greatest propriety of words and perspicuity of narration that ever was; which, that it was not the effect of a natural gift, but of learning and precept, is well witnessed by that work of his entitled De Analogia, being a grammatical philosophy wherein he did labor to make this same vox et placitum to become vox et licitum, and to reduce custom of speech to congruity of speech, and took as it were the picture of words from the life of reason.

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

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

So again in his book of Apophthegms which he collected, we see that he esteemed it more honor to make himself but a pair of tables to take the wise and pithy words of others, than to have every word of his own to be made an apophthegm or an oracle, as vain princes, by custom of flattery, pretend to do. And yet if I should enumerate diverse of his speeches, as I did those of Alexander, they are truly such as Solomon noted, when he said “the words of the wise are as stings, and as nails fixed deep in.” Whereof I will only recite three, not so delectable for elegance, but admirable for vigor and efficacy.

As first, it is reason he be thought a master of words, that could with one word appease a mutiny in his army, which was thus. The Romans, when their generals did speak to their army, did use the word Milites [soldiers], but when the magistrates spoke to the people, they did use the word Quirites [citizens]. The soldiers were in tumult, and seditiously prayed to be cashiered, not that they so meant, but by expostulation thereof to draw Caesar to other conditions. Wherein he being resolute not to give way, after some silence, he began his speech, “I, Quirites,” which did admit them already cashiered, wherewith they were so surprised, crossed, and confused, they would not suffer him to go on in his speech but relinquished their demands and made it their suit to be again called by the name of Milites.

The second speech was thus: Caesar did extremely desire the name of king, and some were set on, as he passed by, in popular acclamation to salute him king. Whereupon, finding the cry weak and poor, he put it off thus in a kind of jest, as if they had mistaken his surname: “I am not Rex, but Caesar,” a speech, that if it be searched, the life and fullness of it can scarce be expressed. For first it was a refusal of the name, but yet not serious. Again, it did signify an infinite confidence and magnanimity, as if he presumed Caesar was the greater title, as by his worthiness it is come to pass till this day. But chiefly it was a speech of great allurement towards his own purpose, as if the state did strive with him but for a name, whereof mean families were vested, for Rex was a surname with the Romans, as well as King is with us.

The last speech which I will mention, was directed to Metellus, when Caesar, after war declared, did possess himself of the city of Rome, at which time entering into the inner treasury to take the money there accumulated, Metellus being tribune forbade him. Whereto Caesar said, “that if he did not desist, he would lay him dead in the place,” and presently taking himself up, he added, “young man, it is harder for me to speak it than to do it.” A speech compounded of the greatest terror and greatest clemency that could proceed out of the mouth of man.

But to return and conclude with him. It is evident he knew well his own perfection in learning, and took it upon himself; as appeared when upon the occasion that some spoke about what a strange resolution it was in Lucius Sylla to resign his dictatorship, he scoffing at him, to his own advantage, answered that “Sylla had not skill of letters, and therefore knew not how to dictate.”

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

To proceed now from imperial and military virtue to moral and private virtue. First, it is an assured truth which is contained in the verses: “a true proficiency in liberal learning softens and humanizes the manners.” It takes away the wildness and barbarism and fierceness of men’s minds, but indeed the accent had need be upon a true proficiency, for a little superficial learning does rather work a contrary effect. It takes away all levity, temerity, and insolence, by copious suggestion of all doubts and difficulties, and acquainting the mind to balance reasons on both sides, and to turn back the first offers and conceits of the mind, and to accept of nothing but examined and tried. It takes away vain admiration of anything, which is the root of all weakness. For all things are admired, either because they are new, or because they are great. For novelty, a man that wades in learning or contemplation thoroughly, will find that printed in his heart “there is nothing new under the sun.” Neither can any man marvel at the play of puppets, that goes behind the curtain and advises well of the motion. And for magnitude, as Alexander the Great, after he was used to great armies and the great conquests of the spacious provinces in Asia, when he received letters out of Greece of some fights and services there, which were commonly for a passage or a fort or some walled town at the most, he said “it seemed to him that he was advertised of the battles of the frogs and the mice, that the old tales spoke of.”

So certainly if a man meditate much upon the universal frame of nature, the earth with men upon it (the divineness of souls excepted) will not seem much other than an ant hill, whereas some ants carry corn, and some carry their young, and some go empty and all to and fro a little heap of dust. It takes away or mitigates fear of death or adverse fortune, which is one of the greatest impediments of virtue and imperfections of manners. For if a man’s mind be deeply seasoned with the consideration of the mortality and corruptible nature of things, he will easily concur with Epictetus, who went forth one day and saw a woman weeping for her pitcher of earth that was broken, and went forth the next day and saw a woman weeping for her son that was dead, and thereupon said, “yesterday I saw a brittle thing broken, today I saw a mortal dead.” And, therefore, Virgil did excellently and profoundly couple the knowledge of causes and the conquest of all fears together, as concomitants.

Happy the man who does the causes know
Of all that is: serene he stands, above
All fears; above the inexorable Fate,
And that insatiate gulf that roars below.

It were too long to go over the particular remedies which learning does minister to all the diseases of the mind; sometimes purging the ill humors, sometimes opening the obstructions, sometimes helping digestion, sometimes increasing appetite, sometimes healing the wounds and ulcerations thereof, and the like; and, therefore, I will conclude with that which has the most reason, which is, that it disposes the constitution of the mind not to be fixed or settled in the defects thereof, but still to be capable and susceptible of growth and reformation. For the unlearned man knows not what it is to descend into himself or to call himself to account, nor the pleasure to feel himself each day a better man than he was the day before. The good parts he has he will learn to show to the full and use them dexterously, but not much to increase them. The faults he has he will learn how to hide and color them, but not much to amend them, like an ill mower that mows on still and never whets his scythe. Whereas with the learned man it fares otherwise, that he does ever intermix the corrections and amendment of his mind with the use and employment thereof. Nay further, in general and in sum, certain it is that truth and goodness differ but as the seal and print; for truth prints goodness, and they are the clouds of error which descend in the storms of passions and perturbations.

From moral virtue let us pass on to matters of power and commandment and consider whether in right reason there is any comparable with that wherewith knowledge invests and crowns man’s nature. We see the dignity of the commandment is according to the dignity of the commanded. To have commandment over beasts, as herdsmen have, is a thing contemptible. To have commandment over children, as schoolmasters have, is a matter of small honor. To have commandment over galley slaves is a disparagement rather than an honor. Neither is the commandment of tyrants much better, over people which have put off the generosity of their minds, and, therefore, it was even held that honors in free monarchies and commonwealths had a sweetness more than in tyrannies because the commandment extends more over the wills of men, and not only over their deeds and services. And, therefore, when Virgil put himself forth to attribute to Augustus Caesar the best of human honors, he does it in these words:

Moving in conquest onward, at his will
To willing people he gives laws, and shapes
Through worthiest deeds on earth his course to Heaven.

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

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

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

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

Lastly, leaving the vulgar arguments, that by learning man excels man in that wherein man excels beasts, that by learning man ascends to the heavens and their motions, where in body he cannot come, and the like, let us conclude with the dignity and excellency of knowledge and learning in that whereunto man’s nature does most aspire, which is immortality or continuance. For to this tends generation, and raising of houses and families; to this buildings, foundations, and monuments; to this tends the desire of memory, fame, and celebration; and in effect, the strength of all other human desires. We see then how far the monuments of wit and learning are more durable than the monuments of power or of the hands. For have not the verses of Homer continued twenty-five hundred years or more, without the loss of a syllable or letter, during which time infinite palaces, temples, castles, cities, have been decayed and demolished? It is not possible to have the true pictures or statues of Cyrus, Alexander, Caesar, no nor of the kings or great personages of much later years; for the originals cannot last and the copies cannot but lose the life and truth.

But the images of men’s wits and knowledge remain in books exempted from the wrong of time and capable of perpetual renovation. Neither are they fitly to be called images, because they generate still, and cast their seeds in the minds of others, provoking and causing infinite actions and opinions in succeeding ages. So that if the invention of the ship was thought so noble, which carries riches and commodities from place to place, and consociates the most remote regions in participation of their fruits, how much more are letters to be magnified, which as ships pass through the vast seas of time and make ages so distant to participate of the wisdom, illuminations, and inventions, the one of the other? Nay further, we see some of the philosophers who were least divine and most immersed in the senses and denied generally the immortality of the soul, yet came to this point, that whatsoever motions the spirit of man could act and perform without the organs of the body they thought might remain after death, which were only those of the understanding, and not of the affection; so immortal and incorruptible a thing did knowledge seem to them to be. But we, that know by divine revelation that not only the understanding but the affections purified, not only the spirit but the body changed, shall be advanced to immortality, do disclaim in these rudiments of the senses. But it must be remembered both in this last point, and so it may likewise be needful in other places that in probation of the dignity of knowledge or learning I did in the beginning separate divine testimony from human, which method I have pursued and so handled them both apart.

Nevertheless, I do not pretend, and I know it will be impossible for me by any pleading of mine to reverse the judgment, either of Aesop’s cock, that preferred the barleycorn before the gem; or of Midas, that being chosen judge between Apollo president of the Muses, and Pan god of the flocks, judged for plenty; or of Paris, that judged for beauty and love against wisdom and power; or of Agrippina (“let him kill his mother so he be emperor”), that preferred empire with condition never so detestable; or of Ulysses (“that preferred an old woman to immortality”), being a figure of those who prefer custom and habit before all excellency; or of a number of the like popular judgments. For these things continue as they have been. But so will that also continue whereupon learning has ever relied, and which fails not: “wisdom is justified of her children.”

THE SECOND BOOK OF FRANCIS BACON
OF THE PROFICIENCE AND ADVANCEMENT OF LEARNING
DIVINE AND HUMAN

TO THE KING

It might seem to have more convenience, excellent King, though it come often otherwise to pass, that those who are fruitful in their generations, and have as it were the foresight of immortality in their descendants, should likewise be more careful than other men of the good estate of future times, to which they know they must transmit their dearest pledges. Queen Elizabeth, rather a sojourner in the world than an inhabitant, in respect of her unmarried life, was an ornament to her own times and prospered them in many ways. But to your Majesty (whom God in His goodness has already blessed with so much royal issue, worthy to continue and represent you forever, and whose youthful and fruitful bed still promises more) it is proper and convenient not only to shed a luster (as you do) on your age, but also to extend your care to those things which all memory may preserve and which are in their nature eternal. Among which (if affection for learning transport me not) there is not any more noble or more worthy than the further endowment of the world with sound and fruitful knowledge. For how long shall we let a few received authors stand up like Hercules’ columns, beyond which there shall be no sailing or discovery in science, when we have so bright and benign a star as your Majesty to conduct and prosper us?

To return then to the matter in hand. Let us now review and consider with ourselves what has hitherto been done by kings and others for the increase and advancement of learning, and what has been left undone. And let us discuss the question solidly and distinctly, in a style active and masculine, without digressing or dilating. We may begin then by assuming (which will not be disputed) that all the greatest and most difficult works are overcome either by amplitude of reward, or by prudence and soundness of direction, or by conjunction of labors. Whereof the first stimulates endeavor, the second removes uncertainty and error, and the third supplies the frailty of man. But of these three, prudence and soundness of direction—that is, the pointing out and setting forth of the straight and ready way to the thing which is to be done—must be placed first. For the cripple in the right way (as the saying is) outstrips the runner in the wrong. And Solomon observes most aptly to the point in question, that “if the iron be blunt it requires more strength, but wisdom is that which prevails,” signifying that the prudent choice of the means is more effectual for the purpose than either the enforcement or the accumulation of endeavors. This I am induced to say, for, not derogating from the honor of those who have been in any way deservers towards the state of learning, I observe nevertheless that most of their works and acts have had in view rather their own magnificence and memory than the progress and advancement of learning, and have rather augmented the number of learned men than raised and rectified the sciences themselves.

The works or acts which pertain to the advancement of learning are conversant about three objects: the places of learning, the books of learning, and the persons of the learned. For as water, whether it be the dew of Heaven or the spring of the earth, easily scatters and loses itself in the ground, except it be collected into some receptacle where it may by union and consort comfort and sustain itself (and for that cause the industry of man has devised aqueducts, cisterns, and pools, and likewise beautified them with various ornaments, for magnificence and state as well as for use and necessity). So this excellent liquor of knowledge, whether it descend from divine inspiration or spring from human sense, would soon perish and vanish into oblivion if it were not preserved in books, tradition, and conferences, and especially in places appointed for such matters, as universities, colleges, and schools, where it may have both a fixed habitation and means and opportunity of increasing and collecting itself.

And first, the works which concern the places of learning are four: buildings, endowments with revenues, grants of franchises and privileges, and institutions and ordinances of government—all tending (for the most part) to retirement and quietness of life and a release from cares and trouble, like the stations that Virgil prescribes for the hiving of honey bees:

First for thy bees a quiet station find,
And lodge them under cover of the wind.

The principal works touching books are two: first, libraries, which are as the shrines wherein all the relics of the ancient saints full of true virtue are preserved; secondly, new editions of authors, with more correct impressions, more faithful translations, more profitable commentaries, more diligent annotations and the like.

The works pertaining to the persons of the learned (besides the advancement and countenancing of them in general) are likewise two: the remuneration and designation of lecturers in arts already extant and invented; and the remuneration and appointment of writers and inquirers concerning those parts of learning not yet sufficiently labored or prosecuted.

These are summarily the works and acts wherein the merits of many excellent princes and other illustrious personages towards learning have been manifested. As for the particular commemoration of anyone who has deserved well of literature, I call to mind what Cicero said when, on his return from exile, he gave general thanks: “it is hard to remember all, ungrateful to pass by any.” Let us rather (after the advice of Scripture) look forward to that part of the race which is still to be run, than look back to that which has been passed.

First, therefore, among so many noble foundations of colleges in Europe, I find it strange that they are all dedicated to professions and none left free to the study of arts and sciences at large. For if men judge that learning should be referred to use and action, they judge well; but it is easy in this to fall into the error pointed at in the ancient fable in which the other parts of the body found fault with the stomach, because it neither performed the office of motion as the limbs do, nor of sense, as the head does, but yet notwithstanding it is the stomach which digests and distributes the aliment to all the rest. So if any man think that Philosophy and Universality are idle and unprofitable studies, he does not consider that all arts and professions are from thence supplied with sap and strength. And this I take to be a great cause, which has so long hindered the more flourishing progress of learning, because these fundamental knowledges have been studied but in passage and not drunk deeper of. For if you will have a tree bear more fruit than it has used to do, it is not anything you can do to the boughs, but it is the stirring of the earth, and putting richer mold about the roots, that must work it. Neither is it to be forgotten that this dedication of colleges and societies to the use only of professory learning has not only been inimical to the growth of the sciences, but has also been prejudicial to states and governments. For hence it proceeds that princes when they have to choose men for business of state find a wonderful dearth of able men around them because there is no collegiate education designed for these purposes, where men naturally so disposed and affected might (besides other arts) give themselves especially to histories, modern languages, books of policy and civil discourse; whereby they might come better prepared and instructed to offices of state.

And because founders of Colleges do plant, and founders of Lectures do water, I must next speak of the deficiencies which I find in public lectures; wherein I especially disapprove of the smallness of the salary assigned to lecturers in arts and professions, particularly among ourselves. For it is very necessary to the progression of sciences that lecturers in every sort be of the most able and sufficient men; as those who are ordained not for transitory use, but for keeping up the race and succession of knowledge from age to age. This cannot be unless their condition and endowment be such that the most eminent professors may be well contented and willing to spend their whole life in that function and attendance, without caring for practice. And, therefore, if you will have sciences flourish, you must observe David’s military law, which was, “that those who stayed with the baggage should have equal part with those who were in the action,” else will the baggage be ill attended. So lecturers in sciences are as it were the keepers and guardians of the whole store and provision of learning, whence the active and militant part of the sciences is furnished. And therefore they ought to have equal entertainment and profit with the men of active life. Otherwise, if the fathers in sciences be not amply and handsomely maintained, it will come to pass, as Virgil says of horses, “the poor keeping of the parents will be seen in the weakliness of the children.”

I will now notice another defect, wherein I should call in some alchemist to help me, one of those who advise the studious to sell their books and build furnaces, and forsaking Minerva and the Muses as barren virgins, to rely upon Vulcan. But certain it is that for depth of speculation no less than for fruit of operation in some sciences (especially natural philosophy and physic) other helps are required besides books. Wherein also the beneficence of men has not been altogether wanting, for we see spheres, globes, astrolabes, maps, and the like have been provided and prepared as assistants to astronomy and cosmography, as well as books. We see likewise that some places instituted for physic have gardens for the examination and knowledge of simples of all sorts, and are not without the use of dead bodies for anatomical observations. But these respect but a few things. In general, it may be held for certain that there will hardly be any great progress in the unraveling and unlocking of the secrets of nature, except there be a full allowance for expenses about experiments; whether they be experiments appertaining to Vulcan or Daedalus (that is, the furnace or engine), or any other kind. And, therefore, as secretaries and emissaries of princes are allowed to bring in bills of expenses for their diligence in exploring and unraveling plots and civil secrets, so the searchers and spies of nature must have their expenses paid, or else you will never be well informed of a great number of things most worthy to be known. For if Alexander made such a liberal assignation of money to Aristotle, to support hunters, fowlers, fishers and the like, that he might be better furnished for compiling a History of Animals; certainly much more do they deserve it, who instead of wandering in the forests of nature, make their way through the labyrinths of arts.

Another defect to be noticed (and one of great importance) is a neglect of consultation in governors of universities, and of visitation in princes or superior persons, to enter into careful account and consideration whether the readings, disputations, and other scholastic exercises anciently begun, and since continued up to our time, may be profitably kept up, or whether we should rather abolish them and substitute better. For I find it is one of your Majesty’s most wise maxims: “that in all usages or precedents, the times be considered wherein they first began; which if they were disordered or ignorant, it derogates greatly from the authority of the precedents, and leaves all things for suspect.” And, therefore, inasmuch as most of the institutions of the universities are derived from times a good deal more obscure and ignorant than our own, it is the more convenient that they be re-examined. In this kind I will give an instance or two, of things which appear to be the most obvious and familiar.

It is a general custom (and yet I hold it to be an error) that scholars come too soon and too unripe to the study of logic and rhetoric, arts fitter for graduates than children and novices. For these two rightly taken are the gravest of sciences, being the arts of arts, the one for judgment, the other for ornament. Besides, they give the rule and direction how both to set forth and illustrate the subject matter. And, therefore, for minds empty and ignorant (and which have not yet gathered what Cicero calls “stuff” [sylva] or “furniture,” that is matter and variety) to begin with those arts (as if one should learn to weigh or to measure or to paint the wind) works but this effect, that the virtue and faculty of those arts (which are great and universal) are almost made contemptible, and either degenerate into childish sophistry and ridiculous affectation, or at least lose not a little of their reputation. And further, the premature and untimely learning of these arts has drawn on, by consequence, the superficial and unprofitable teaching and handling of them, a manner of teaching suited to the capacity of children.

Another instance of an error which has long prevailed in universities is this: that they make too great and mischievous a divorce between invention and memory. For most of the speeches there are either entirely premeditated, and delivered in preconceived words, where nothing is left to invention; or merely extempore, where little is left to memory. Whereas in common life and action there is little use of either of these separately, but rather of intermixtures of them, that is, of notes or commentaries and extempore speech, and thus the exercise fits not the practice, nor the image the life. But it must ever be observed as a rule in exercises, that they be made to represent in everything (as near as may be) the real actions of life; for otherwise they will pervert the motions and faculties of the mind, and not prepare them. The truth whereof appears clearly enough when scholars come to the practice of their professions or other offices of civil life, which when they set into, this want I speak of is soon found out by themselves, but still sooner by others. But this part, touching the amendment of the Institutions and Orders of Universities, I will conclude with a sentence taken from one of Caesar’s letters to Oppius and Balbus: “how this may be done, some means occur to me, and many may be found. I beg you, therefore, to take these matters into consideration.”

Another defect which I note ascends a little higher than the preceding. For as the progress of learning consists not a little in the wise ordering and institutions of each university, so it would be yet much more advanced if there were a closer connection and relationship between all the different universities of Europe than now there is. For we see there are many orders and societies which, though they be divided under distant sovereignties and territories, yet enter into and maintain among themselves a kind of contract and fraternity, insomuch that they have governors (both provincial and general) whom they all obey. And surely as nature creates brotherhood in families, and arts mechanical contract brotherhoods in societies, and the anointment of God superinduces a brotherhood in kings and bishops, and vows and regulations make a brotherhood in religious orders; so in like manner there cannot but be a noble and generous brotherhood contracted among men by learning and illumination, seeing that God himself is called “the Father of Lights.”

The last defect I complain of (to which I have already alluded) is that there has not been, or very rarely been, any public designation of fit men either to write or to make inquiry concerning such parts of knowledge as have not been already sufficiently labored. To which point it will greatly conduce if a review and census be made of the sciences, and account be taken what parts of them are rich and well advanced, and what poor and destitute. For the opinion of plenty is among the causes of want; and the great quantity of books makes a show rather of superfluity than lack; of which surcharge nevertheless the true remedy is not to destroy the old books, but to make more good ones; of such a kind that like the serpent of Moses, they may devour the serpents of the enchanters.

The removal of all the defects formerly enumerated, except the last, and of the active part also of the last, which relates to the designation of writers, are truly works for a king; towards which the endeavors and industry of a private man can be but as an image in a crossway, that may point at the way but cannot go it. But the speculative part of it, which relates to the survey of knowledge to see what in each is deficient, is open likewise to private industry. Wherefore I now intend to make a general and faithful perambulation and survey of learning, with a very careful and accurate inquiry what parts thereof lie fresh and waste, and not yet improved and converted to use by the industry of man, to the end that such a plot marked out, and recorded to memory, may minister light both to public designations and voluntary endeavors. Wherein nevertheless my purpose is at this time to note only omissions and deficiencies, and not to make any disapproval of errors and failures. For it is one thing to point out what parts lie untilled and another thing to mend the manner of tillage.

In addressing myself to which task I am not ignorant how great a work I attempt, and how difficult a province I take upon me, nor again how far unequal my strength is to my will. Nevertheless I have great hope that if my extreme love of learning carry me too far, I may obtain the excuse of affection; for “it is not granted to any man at the same time to love and to be wise.” But I know well I can use no other liberty of judgment than I must leave to others, and I for my part shall be equally glad either to perform myself or to accept from others that duty of humanity, to put the wanderer on the right way. I foresee likewise that many of those things which I shall think fit to enter in this registry of mine as omitted and deficient will incur censure on different accounts; some as being already done and extant; others as savoring of curiosity, and promising very scanty fruits; others as being too difficult and almost impossible to be compassed and effected by man. For the two first I refer myself to the particulars themselves. For the last, touching impossibility, I take it that all those things are to be held possible and performable, which may be done by some persons, though not by every one; and which may be done by many together, though not by one alone; and which may be done in the succession of ages, though not in one man’s life; and lastly, which may be done by public designation and expense, though not by private means and endeavor. But notwithstanding, if any man will take to himself rather the saying of Solomon, “the slothful man says there is a lion in the path,” than that of Virgil, “they find it possible because they think it possible,” I shall be content that my labors be esteemed but as the better sort of wishes. For as it asks some knowledge of a thing to demand a question not impertinent, so it requires some sense to make a wish not absurd.

OF THE DIGNITY AND ADVANCEMENT
OF LEARNING
THE DIVISIONS OF THE SCIENCES
AND THE ARGUMENTS OF THE SEVERAL CHAPTERS

BOOK THE SECOND

Chapter 1

Division of all human learning into History, Poesy, Philosophy; with reference to the three intellectual faculties, Memory, Imagination, Reason; and that the same division holds good likewise in Theology.

Chapter 2

Division of History into Natural and Civil; Ecclesiastical and Literary History being included in Civil. Division of Natural History, according to its subject, into History of Generations, Pretergenerations, and Arts.

Chapter 3

Second division of Natural History, according to its use and end, into Narrative and Inductive; and that the noblest end of Natural History is to minister and be in order to the building up of Philosophy, which end is aimed at by the Inductive. Division of the History of Generations into the History of the Heavenly Bodies, of Meteors, of the Globe of Earth and Sea, of the Masses or Greater Colleges, and of the Species or Lesser Colleges.

Chapter 4

Division of Civil History into Ecclesiastical, Literary, and Civil (properly so called), and that Literary History is wanting. Precepts for the construction thereof.

Chapter 5

Of the dignity and difficulty of Civil History.

Chapter 6

First division of Civil History (properly so called) into Memorials, Antiquities, and Perfect History.

Chapter 7

Division of Perfect History into Chronicles of Times, Lives of Persons, and Relations of Actions. The explanation of these.

Chapter 8

Division of History of Times into Universal and Particular. The advantages and disadvantages of each.

Chapter 9

Second division of History of Times into Annals and Journals.

Chapter 10

Second division of Civil History (properly so called) into Pure and Mixed.

Chapter 11

Division of Ecclesiastical History into History of the Church, History according to the Prophecies, and History of Providence.

Chapter 12

Of certain Appendices to History, which deal with the words of man, as History deals with their actions. Division of the same into Orations, Letters, and Apophthegms.

Chapter 13

Of the second principal branch of Learning, namely Poesy. Division of Poesy into Narrative, Dramatic, and Parabolical. Three examples of Parabolical Poesy are propounded.

BOOK THE THIRD

Chapter 1

Division of Science into Theology and Philosophy. Division of Philosophy into three doctrines: concerning the Deity, concerning Nature, and concerning Man. Constitution of Primary Philosophy as the common mother of all.

Chapter 2

Of Natural Theology; and the doctrine concerning Angels and Spirits, which is an appendix of the same.

Chapter 3

Division of Natural Philosophy into Speculative and Operative. And that these two ought to be kept separate, both in the intention of the writer and in the body of the treatise.

Chapter 4

Division of Speculative doctrine concerning nature into Physic (special) and Metaphysic. Whereof Physic inquires of the Efficient Cause and the Material; Metaphysic of the Final Cause and the Form. Division of Physic (special) into doctrine concerning the Principles of Things, concerning the Fabric of Things, or the world; and concerning the Variety of Things. Division of the doctrine concerning the Variety of Things into doctrine concerning things concrete, and doctrine concerning things abstract. The division of the doctrine concerning things concrete is referred to the same divisions which Natural History receives. Division of the doctrine concerning things abstract into doctrine concerning the Configuration of Matter, and the doctrine concerning motions. Two appendices of Speculative Physic: natural problems, and dogmas of the ancient philosophers. Division of Metaphysic into doctrine concerning Form, and doctrine concerning Final Causes.

Chapter 5

Division of the operative doctrine concerning Nature into Mechanic and Magic, which correspond to the divisions of the speculative doctrine: Mechanic answering to Physic, Magic to Metaphysic. Purification of the word Magic. Two appendices of the operative doctrine. Inventory of the possessions of man, and Catalogue of Polychrests, or things of general use.

Chapter 6

Of the great Appendix of Natural Philosophy, both speculative and operative, namely, Mathematics, and that it ought rather to be placed among appendices than among substantive sciences. Division of Mathematics into Pure and Mixed.

BOOK THE FOURTH

Chapter 1

Division of the doctrine concerning Man into Philosophy of Humanity and Philosophy Civil. Division of the Philosophy of Humanity into doctrine concerning the Body of Man, and doctrine concerning the Soul of Man. Constitution of one general doctrine concerning the Nature or the State of Man. Division of the doctrine concerning the State of Man into doctrine concerning the Person of Man, and concerning the League of Mind and Body. Division of the doctrine concerning the Person of Man into doctrine concerning the Miseries of Man, and concerning his Prerogatives. Division of the doctrine concerning the League, into doctrine concerning Indications and concerning Impressions. Assignation of Physiognomy and Interpretation of Natural Dreams to the doctrine concerning Indications.

Chapter 2

Division of the doctrine concerning the Body of Man into Medicine, Cosmetic, Athletic, and Voluptuary. Division of Medicine into three offices; namely, the Preservation of Health, the Cure of Diseases, and the Prolongation of Life. And that the last division concerning the Prolongation of Life ought to be kept separate from the other two.

Chapter 3

Division of Human Philosophy relating to the Soul into doctrine concerning the Breath of Life and doctrine concerning the Sensible or Produced Spirit. Second division of the same Philosophy into doctrine concerning the Substance and Faculties of the Soul, and doctrine concerning the Use and Objects of the Faculties. Two appendices to the doctrine concerning the Faculties of the Soul: doctrine concerning Natural Divination, and doctrine concerning Fascination. Distribution of the faculties of the Sensible Soul into Motion and Sense.

BOOK THE FIFTH

Chapter 1

Division of the doctrine concerning the use and objects of the Faculties of the Human Soul into Logic and Ethics. Division of Logic into the arts of Discovering, of Judging, of Retaining, and of Transmitting.

Chapter 2

Division of the Art of Discovering into discovery of Arts and discovery of Arguments, and that the former of these (which is the most important) is wanting. Division of the art of discovery of Arts into Learned Experience and the New Organon. Description of Learned Experience.

Chapter 3

Division of the art of discovery of Arguments into the Promptuary, and Topics. Division of Topics into General and Particular. Example of a Particular Topic in an inquiry concerning Heavy and Light.

Chapter 4

Division of the art of Judging into judgment by Induction and judgment by Syllogism. The first whereof is referred to the New Organon. First division of Judgment by Syllogism into Reduction Direct and Reduction Inverse. Second division of the same into Analytic, and doctrine concerning Detection of Fallacies. Division of the doctrine concerning the detection of fallacies into detection of sophistical fallacies, fallacies of interpretation, and fallacies of false appearances or Idols. Division of Idols into Idols of the Tribe, Idols of the Cave, and Idols of the Marketplace. Appendix to the Art of Judging, namely, concerning the Analogy of Demonstrations according to the nature of the subject.

Chapter 5

Division of the Art of Retaining into the doctrine concerning the Helps of Memory and the doctrine concerning Memory itself. Division of the doctrine concerning Memory itself into Prenotion and Emblem.

BOOK THE SIXTH

Chapter 1

Division of the art of Transmitting into the doctrine concerning the Organ of Discourse, the doctrine concerning the Method of Discourse, and the doctrine concerning the Illustration of Discourse. Division of the doctrine concerning the organ of discourse into the doctrine concerning the Notations of Things, concerning Speech, and concerning Writing. Whereof the two first constitute Grammar and are divisions of it. Division of the doctrine concerning the notations of things into Hieroglyphics, and Real Characters. Second division of Grammar into Literary and Philosophic. Reference of Poesy in respect of meter to the doctrine concerning Speech. Reference of the doctrine concerning Ciphers to the doctrine concerning Writing.

Chapter 2

The doctrine concerning the Method of Discourse is made a substantive and principal part of the art of transmitting; and is named Wisdom of Transmission. Different kinds of method are enumerated, with a note of their advantages and disadvantages.

Chapter 3

Of the foundations and office of the doctrine concerning Illustration of Discourse, or Rhetoric. Three appendices of Rhetoric, which relate only to the Promptuary: Colors of Good and Evil, both simple and comparative; Antitheses of Things; Lesser Forms of Speeches.

Chapter 4

Two general appendices of the Art of Transmission: Critical and Pedagogical.

BOOK THE SEVENTH

Chapter 1

Division of Moral Knowledge into the Exemplar or Platform of Good, and the Georgics or Culture of the Mind. Division of the Platform of Good into Simple and Comparative Good. Division of Simple Good into Individual Good, and Good of Communion.

Chapter 2

Division of Individual or Self-Good into Active and Passive Good. Division of Passive Good into Conservative and Perfective Good. Division of the Good of Communion into General and Respective Duties.

Chapter 3

Division of the doctrine concerning the Culture of the Mind into the doctrine concerning the Characters of Minds, the Affections, and the Remedies or Cures. Appendix of this same doctrine, touching the Congruity between the Good of the Mind and the Good of the Body.

BOOK THE EIGHTH

Chapter 1

Division of Civil Knowledge into the doctrine concerning Conversation, Negotiations, and Empire or State Government.

Chapter 2

Division of the doctrine concerning Negotiation into the doctrine concerning Scattered Occasions and the doctrine concerning Advancement in Life. Example of the doctrine concerning Scattered Occasions from some of the Proverbs of Solomon. Precepts concerning Advancement in Life.

Chapter 3

The divisions of the doctrine concerning Empire or Government are omitted. An Introduction only is made to two Deficients, namely, the doctrine concerning the Extension of the Bounds of Empire, and the doctrine concerning Universal Justice, or the Fountains of Law.

BOOK THE NINTH

Chapter 1

The divisions of Inspired Divinity are omitted. Introduction only is made to three Deficients, namely, the doctrine concerning the Legitimate Use of the Human Reason in Divine Subjects; the doctrine concerning the Degrees of Unity in the Kingdom of God; and the Emanations of the Scriptures.

II

GREAT INSTAURATION,
NEW ORGANON, AND PREPARATIVE

Bacon’s most significant and original philosophical work, The New Organon, was published in 1620 together with prefatory material that outlined his plan for a “Great Instauration” of learning, as well as an appendix that discussed how best to prepare the natural histories that would serve as the foundation for his new philosophy. In a letter to James I, to whom this work was dedicated, Bacon wrote that he had been working on the book for “near thirty years” and that it was intended to be “a new logic, teaching to invent and judge by induction” (vol. 14, pp. 119–120). In his life of Bacon, Rawley wrote that he had seen at least twelve drafts, “every year altered and amended,” and that Bacon had clearly considered it the “chiefest of his works” (vol. 1, p. 11). The fact that Bacon published it in Latin, which he believed to be the universal and timeless language, also indicates the importance that he placed on this work.

The Great Instauration begins with a “Proem,” which indicates Bacon’s reasons for publishing this work in its incomplete condition, and his Epistle Dedicatory to James I, whom he served as Lord Chancellor at this time. As he had in the Advancement of Learning, he compares James with Solomon and once again requests his support for this ambitious project. A lengthy preface follows in which Bacon discusses the impoverished state of knowledge and the way that he proposes to improve it by a method that will produce for the first time a “true marriage of the empirical and rational faculty.” Bacon then provides in general outline a description of the six parts of The Great Instauration in “The Plan of the Work” that follows.

The second part, The New Organon, begins with a short preface that repeats some of the themes from the earlier preface. Bacon elaborates on how it is faulty reasoning and the wandering inquiry of previous philosophy that has been responsible for the lack of knowledge and on how his new inductive methods will correct the errors of the past. In particular, he makes a distinction between the deductive logic of the syllogism that he says is useful only as a method of demonstration or proof, and inductive logic that provides a method for discovery and invention. In part, perhaps to reinforce this distinction, as well as his stance against the systematic demonstrations produced by the school philosophers, The New Organon is composed of two “books” of aphorisms. In aphorism 86 of Book One, Bacon notes that he has chosen to write this way in emulation of “ancient seekers after truth” who thought it best to write in short, unconnected paragraphs because the knowledge contained therein would be easier to use than knowledge that is linked together by an artificial method. Despite its appearance, however, there is still quite a bit of structure in this work. In Book One, for example, the aphorisms can be grouped together around five general themes.

First, aphorisms 1 through 37 serve as introductory remarks on the use of inductive methods for discovery, the goal of useful knowledge, the subtlety of nature, and the need for interpretation. The second set of aphorisms, 38 through 68, provides his discussion of the “idols of the mind”—those prejudices that hinder our ability to understand nature. Classified as the idols of the tribe, cave, marketplace, and theater, they represent, respectively, those biases that are innate to human nature or that are the product of experience, or of faulty language, or of the influence of faulty philosophical systems. In the third set of aphorisms, 69 through 91, Bacon shows how and why the common deductive logic used for demonstration fails to provide a method for discovery. After these critical remarks, he then turns more positive in a fourth set of aphorisms, 92 through 114, by offering arguments of hope concerning why people should take his project seriously and how it is possible that the new method will lead to the results that he claims. He concludes Book One with a fifth set of aphorisms intended to provide the “positive preparation” or idea of the new philosophy that consists primarily of responses to the possible objections that could be raised against his project.

Book Two also has a distinct structure and can be separated into three parts. In the first part, aphorisms 1 through 9, Bacon discusses his dual aim of knowledge and power. The highest type of knowledge is of the Forms (left capitalized in the text to signify its technical sense), followed by a secondary level of knowledge concerning Latent Processes (the processes by which changes in bodies are made), and the Latent Configurations of “real particles” (the hidden structures internal to bodies). After this groundwork has been done, then a second set of aphorisms, 10 through 20, moves on to a more direct discussion of the methods to be used to gain this knowledge, particularly his directions for how to “educe” axioms from experience, which is the “true and legitimate induction.” He proceeds by providing an extensive example of his investigation into the form of heat by the construction of three types of tables as discussed in the General Introduction on page xviii. The third and last part of Book Two begins at aphorism 21 with a discussion of how there are nine other helps for induction and the discovery of Forms. Bacon says that he will write about each in turn, but the remainder of the book is devoted to the first help—the “Prerogative Instances.” These instances—“prerogative” because they are designed in such a way as to give special privileged information in contrast to common observations—are discussed at great length. They have been summarized here by aphorism and title, using Bacon’s phrases when possible, with the exception of aphorisms 32, 38, and 44, which provide more general discussions of the instances.

In the final aphorism, 52, after his summary of the Prerogative Instances, Bacon states his intention now to “proceed to the supports and rectification of induction” and “the rest, as set forth in the twenty-first aphorism.” As with other parts of the instauration, The New Organon ends on this incomplete note. Instead of going on, Bacon appends to this work the Preparative towards a Natural and Experimental History as an explicit contribution to part three of the instauration. It begins with a description of the type of histories required, followed by ten aphorisms on the composition of the histories. In this advice he stresses the need for experimental histories because they take “off the mask and veil from natural objects.” He also argues that materials should be collected that are useful for philosophy, that sources should be provided for the information, and that all observations should be set down as completely and quantitatively as possible. After these aphorisms, Bacon adds a “catalogue” of the titles for proposed histories, beginning with histories of astronomical phenomena, then terrestrial phenomena in general, then more particular “histories of species,” such as of metals, gems, stones, plants, and animals, then “histories of man,” including physiological, anatomical, medical, and psychological faculties, and finally, histories of practical arts and mathematics.

THE GREAT INSTAURATION

PROEMIUM

FRANCIS OF VERULAM
Reasoned thus with himself,
and judged it to be for the interest of the present and future generations
that they should be made acquainted with his thoughts

Being convinced that the human intellect makes its own difficulties, not using the true helps which are at man’s disposal soberly and judiciously, whence it follows manifold ignorance of things, and by reason of that ignorance, innumerable mischiefs, he thought all trial should be made whether that commerce between the mind of man and the nature of things (which is more precious than anything on earth, or at least than anything that is of the earth) might by any means be restored to its perfect and original condition or, if that may not be, yet reduced to a better condition than that in which it now is. Now that the errors which have hitherto prevailed, and which will prevail forever, should (if the mind be left to go its own way), either by the natural force of the understanding or by help of the aids and instruments of logic, one by one correct themselves, was a thing not to be hoped for because the primary notions of things which the mind readily and passively imbibes, stores up, and accumulates (and it is from them that all the rest flow) are false, confused, and over hastily abstracted from the facts. Nor are the secondary and subsequent notions less arbitrary and inconstant. Whence it follows that the entire fabric of human reason which we employ in the inquisition of nature is badly put together and built up and like some magnificent structure without any foundation. For while men are occupied in admiring and applauding the false powers of the mind, they pass by and throw away those true powers which, if it be supplied with the proper aids and can itself be content to wait upon nature instead of vainly affecting to overrule her, are within its reach.

There was but one course left, therefore, to try the whole thing anew upon a better plan, and to commence a total reconstruction of sciences, arts, and all human knowledge raised upon the proper foundations. And this, though in the project and undertaking it may seem a thing infinite and beyond the powers of man, yet when it comes to be dealt with it will be found sound and sober, more so than what has been done hitherto. For of this there is some issue, whereas in what is now done in the matter of science there is only a whirling round about, and perpetual agitation, ending where it began. And although he was well aware how solitary an enterprise it is, and how hard a thing to win faith and credit for, nevertheless he was resolved not to abandon either it or himself, nor to be deterred from trying and entering upon that one path which is alone open to the human mind. For better it is to make a beginning of that which may lead to something, than to engage in a perpetual struggle and pursuit in courses which have no exit. And certainly the two ways of contemplation are much like those two ways of action, so much celebrated, in this; that the one, arduous and difficult in the beginning, leads out at last into the open country, while the other, seeming at first sight easy and free from obstruction, leads to pathless and precipitous places.

Moreover, because he knew not how long it might be before these things would occur to any one else, judging especially from this, that he has found no man hitherto who has applied his mind to the like, he resolved to publish at once so much as he has been able to complete. The cause of which haste was not ambition for himself, but solicitude for the work, that in case of his death there might remain some outline and project of that which he had conceived and some evidence likewise of his honest mind and inclination towards the benefit of the human race. Certain it is that all other ambition whatsoever seemed poor in his eyes compared with the work which he had in hand; seeing that the matter at issue is either nothing, or a thing so great that it may well be content with its own merit, without seeking other recompense.

EPISTLE DEDICATORY

To our most gracious and mighty prince and lord
JAMES
by the grace of God of Great Britain, France and Ireland King,
Defender of the Faith, etc.

Most Gracious and Mighty King,

Your Majesty may perhaps accuse me of larceny, having stolen from your affairs so much time as was required for this work. I know not what to say for myself. For of time there can be no restitution, unless it be that what has been abstracted from your business may perhaps go to the memory of your name and the honor of your age, if these things are indeed worth anything. Certainly they are quite new; totally new in their very kind; and yet they are copied from a very ancient model—even the world itself and the nature of things and of the mind. And to say truth, I am wont for my own part to regard this work as a child of time rather than of wit; the only wonder being that the first notion of the thing (and such great suspicions concerning matters long established) should have come into any man’s mind. All the rest follows readily enough. And no doubt there is something of accident (as we call it) and luck as well in what men think as in what they do or say. But for this accident which I speak of, I wish that if there by any good in what I have to offer, it may be ascribed to the infinite mercy and goodness of God, and to the felicity of your Majesty’s times, to which as I have been an honest and affectionate servant in my life, so after my death I may yet perhaps, through the kindling of this new light in the darkness of philosophy, be the means of making this age famous to posterity. Surely to the times of the wisest and most learned of kings belongs of right the regeneration and restoration of the sciences. Lastly, I have a request to make—a request no way unworthy of your Majesty, and which especially concerns the work in hand; namely, that you who resemble Solomon in so many things (in the gravity of your judgments, in the peacefulness of your reign, in the largeness of your heart, in the noble variety of the books which you have composed) would further follow his example in taking order for the collecting and perfecting of a Natural and Experimental History, true and severe (unencumbered with literature and book-learning), such as philosophy may be built upon—such, in fact, as I shall in its proper place describe, so that at length, after the lapse of so many ages, philosophy and the sciences may no longer float in air, but rest on the solid foundation of experience of every kind, and the same well examined and weighed. I have provided the machine, but the stuff must be gathered from the facts of nature. May God Almighty long preserve your Majesty!

Your Majesty’s most bounden and devoted Servant,
FRANCIS VERULAM
Chancellor

PREFACE

That the state of knowledge is not prosperous nor greatly advancing and that a way must be opened for the human understanding entirely different from any hitherto known and other helps provided in order that the mind may exercise over the nature of things the authority which properly belongs to it.

It seems to me that men do not rightly understand either their store or their strength, but overrate the one and underrate the other. Hence it follows that either from an extravagant estimate of the value of the arts which they possess they seek no further, or else from too mean an estimate of their own powers they spend their strength in small matters and never put it fairly to the trial in those which go to the main. These are as the pillars of fate set in the path of knowledge; for men have neither desire nor hope to encourage them to penetrate further. And since opinion of store is one of the chief causes of want, and satisfaction with the present induces neglect of provision for the future, it becomes a thing not only useful, but absolutely necessary, that the excess of honor and admiration with which our existing stock of inventions is regarded be in the very entrance and threshold of the work, and that frankly and without circumlocution, stripped off and men be duly warned not to exaggerate or make too much of them. For let a man look carefully into all that variety of books with which the arts and sciences abound, he will find everywhere endless repetitions of the same thing, varying in the method of treatment but not new in substance, insomuch that the whole stock, numerous as it appears at first view, proves on examination to be but scanty.

And for its value and utility it must be plainly avowed that that wisdom which we have derived principally from the Greeks is but like the boyhood of knowledge, and has the characteristic property of boys: it can talk, but it cannot generate, for it is fruitful of controversies but barren of works. So that the state of learning as it now is appears to be represented to the life in the old fable of Scylla, who had the head and face of a virgin, but her womb was hung round with barking monsters, from which she could not be delivered. For in like manner the sciences to which we are accustomed have certain general positions which are specious and flattering, but as soon as they come to particulars, which are as the parts of generation, when they should produce fruit and works, then arise contentions and barking disputations, which are the end of the matter and all the issue they can yield. Observe also, that if sciences of this kind had any life in them, that could never have come to pass which has been the case now for many ages—that they stand almost at a stay, without receiving any augmentations worthy of the human race, insomuch that many times not only what was asserted once is asserted still, but what was a question once is a question still, and instead of being resolved by discussion is only fixed and fed. And all the tradition and succession of schools is still a succession of masters and scholars, not of inventors and those who bring to further perfection the things invented.

In the mechanical arts we do not find it so. They, on the contrary, as having in them some breath of life, are continually growing and becoming more perfect. As originally invented they are commonly rude, clumsy, and shapeless. Afterwards they acquire new powers and more commodious arrangements and constructions, in so far that men shall sooner leave the study and pursuit of them and turn to something else, than they arrive at the ultimate perfection of which they are capable. Philosophy and the intellectual sciences, on the contrary, stand like statues, worshipped and celebrated, but not moved or advanced. Nay, they sometimes flourish most in the hands of the first author, and afterwards degenerate. For when men have once made over their judgments to others’ keeping, and (like those senators whom they called Pedarii) have agreed to support some one person’s opinion, from that time they make no enlargement of the sciences themselves, but fall to the servile office of embellishing certain individual authors and increasing their retinue.

And let it not be said that the sciences have been growing gradually till they have at last reached their full stature, and so (their course being completed) have settled in the works of a few writers; and that there being now no room for the invention of better, all that remains is to embellish and cultivate those things which have been invented already. Would it were so! But the truth is that this appropriating of the sciences has its origin in nothing better than the confidence of a few persons and the sloth and indolence of the rest. For after the sciences had been in several parts perhaps cultivated and handled diligently, there has risen up some man of bold disposition, and famous for methods and short ways which people like, who has in appearance reduced them to an art, while he has in fact only spoiled all that the others had done. And yet this is what posterity likes, because it makes the work short and easy, and saves further inquiry, of which they are weary and impatient.

And if any one take this general acquiescence and consent for an argument of weight, as being the judgment of Time, let me tell him that the reasoning on which he relies is most fallacious and weak. For, first, we are far from knowing all that in the matter of sciences and arts has in various ages and places been brought to light and published, much less, all that has been by private persons secretly attempted and stirred; so neither the births nor the miscarriages of Time are entered in our records. Nor, secondly, is the consent itself and the time it has continued a consideration of much worth. For however various are the forms of civil polities, there is but one form of polity in the sciences; and that always has been and always will be popular. Now the doctrines which find most favor with the populace are those which are either contentious and pugnacious, or specious and empty, such, I say, as either entangle assent or tickle it. And therefore no doubt the greatest wits in each successive age have been forced out of their own course, men of capacity and intellect above the vulgar having been fain, for reputation’s sake, to bow to the judgment of the time and the multitude. And thus if any contemplations of a higher order took light anywhere, they were presently blown out by the winds of vulgar opinions. So that Time is like a river which has brought down to us things light and puffed up, while those which are weighty and solid have sunk. Nay, those very authors who have usurped a kind of dictatorship in the sciences and taken upon them to lay down the law with such confidence, yet when from time to time they come to themselves again, they fall to complaints of the subtlety of nature, the hiding-places of truth, the obscurity of things, the entanglement of causes, the weakness of the human mind; wherein nevertheless they show themselves never the more modest, seeing that they will rather lay the blame upon the common condition of men and nature than upon themselves. And then whatever any art fails to attain, they ever set it down upon the authority of that art itself as impossible of attainment; and how can art be found guilty when it is judge in its own case? So it is but a device for exempting ignorance from ignominy.

Now for those things which are delivered and received, this is their condition: barren of works, full of questions; in point of enlargement slow and languid; carrying a show of perfection in the whole, but in the parts ill filled up; in selection popular, and unsatisfactory even to those who propound them; and therefore fenced round and set forth with sundry artifices. And if there be any who have determined to make trial for themselves, and put their own strength to the work of advancing the boundaries of the sciences, yet have they not ventured to cast themselves completely loose from received opinions or to seek their knowledge at the fountain. But they think they have done some great thing if they do but add and introduce into the existing sum of science something of their own; prudently considering with themselves that by making the addition they can assert their liberty, while they retain the credit of modesty by assenting to the rest. But these mediocrities and middle ways so much praised, in deferring to opinions and customs, turn to the great detriment of the sciences. For it is hardly possible at once to admire an author and to go beyond him; knowledge being as water, which will not rise above the level from which it fell. Men of this kind, therefore, amend some things but advance little, and improve the condition of knowledge but do not extend its range. Some, indeed, there have been who have gone more boldly to work, and taking it all for an open matter and giving their genius full play, have made a passage for themselves and their own opinions by pulling down and demolishing former ones. And yet all their stir has but little advanced the matter since their aim has been not to extend philosophy and the arts in substance and value, but only to change doctrines and transfer the kingdom of opinions to themselves; whereby little has indeed been gained, for though the error be the opposite of the other, the causes of erring are the same in both.

And if there have been any who, not binding themselves either to other men’s opinions or to their own, but loving liberty, have desired to engage others along with themselves in search, these, though honest in intention, have been weak in endeavor. For they have been content to follow probable reasons, and are carried round in a whirl of arguments, and in the promiscuous liberty of search have relaxed the severity of inquiry. There is none who has dwelt upon experience and the facts of nature as long as is necessary. Some there are indeed who have committed themselves to the waves of experience, and almost turned mechanics, yet these again have in their very experiments pursued a kind of wandering inquiry, without any regular system of operations. And besides they have mostly proposed to themselves certain petty tasks, taking it for a great matter to work out some single discovery—a course of proceeding at once poor in aim and unskillful in design. For no man can rightly and successfully investigate the nature of anything in the thing itself; let him vary his experiments as laboriously as he will, he never comes to a resting place, but still finds something to seek beyond. And there is another thing to be remembered: namely, that all industry in experimenting has begun with proposing to itself certain definite works to be accomplished, and has pursued them with premature and unseasonable eagerness. It has sought, I say, experiments of Fruit, not experiments of Light; not imitating the divine procedure, which in its first day’s work created light only and assigned to it one entire day; on which day it produced no material work, but proceeded to that on the days following.

As for those who have given the first place to logic, supposing that the surest helps to the sciences were to be found in that, they have indeed most truly and excellently perceived that the human intellect left to its own course is not to be trusted; but then the remedy is altogether too weak for the disease; nor is it without evil in itself. For the logic which is received, though it be very properly applied to civil business and to those arts which rest in discourse and opinion, is not nearly subtle enough to deal with nature; and in offering at what it cannot master, has done more to establish and perpetuate error than to open the way to truth.

Upon the whole, therefore, it seems that men have not been happy hitherto either in the trust which they have placed in others or in their own industry with regard to the sciences; especially as neither the demonstrations nor the experiments as yet known are much to be relied upon. But the universe to the eye of the human understanding is framed like a labyrinth, presenting as it does on every side so many ambiguities of way, such deceitful resemblances of objects and signs, natures so irregular in their lines, and so knotted and entangled. And then the way is still to be made by the uncertain light of the sense, sometimes shining out, sometimes clouded over, through the woods of experience and particulars; while those who offer themselves for guides are (as was said) themselves also puzzled, and increase the number of errors and wanderers. In circumstances so difficult neither the natural force of man’s judgment nor even any accidental felicity offers any chance of success. No excellence of wit, no repetition of chance experiments, can overcome such difficulties as these. Our steps must be guided by a clue, and the whole way from the very first perception of the senses must be laid out upon a sure plan.

Not that I would be understood to mean that nothing whatever has been done in so many ages by so great labors. We have no reason to be ashamed of the discoveries which have been made, and no doubt the ancients proved themselves in everything that turns on wit and abstract meditation, wonderful men. But as in former ages when men sailed only by observation of the stars, they could indeed coast along the shores of the old continent or cross a few small and mediterranean seas; but before the ocean could be traversed and the new world discovered, the use of the mariner’s needle, as a more faithful and certain guide, had to be found out. In like manner the discoveries which have been hitherto made in the arts and sciences are such as might be made by practice, meditation, observation, argumentation—for they lay near to the senses and immediately beneath common notions—but before we can reach the remoter and more hidden parts of nature, it is necessary that a more perfect use and application of the human mind and intellect be introduced.

For my own part at least, in obedience to the everlasting love of truth, I have committed myself to the uncertainties and difficulties and solitudes of the ways and, relying on the divine assistance, have upheld my mind both against the shocks and embattled ranks of opinion, and against my own private and inward hesitations and scruples, and against the fogs and clouds of nature, and the phantoms flitting about on every side, in the hope of providing at last for the present and future generations guidance more faithful and secure. Wherein if I have made any progress, the way has been opened to me by no other means than the true and legitimate humiliation of the human spirit. For all those who before me have applied themselves to the invention of arts have but cast a glance or two upon facts and examples and experience, and straightway proceeded, as if invention were nothing more than an exercise of thought, to invoke their own spirits to give them oracles. I, on the contrary, dwelling purely and constantly among the facts of nature, withdraw my intellect from them no further than may suffice to let the images and rays of natural objects meet in a point, as they do in the sense of vision; whence it follows that the strength and excellency of the wit has but little to do in the matter.

And the same humility which I use in inventing I employ likewise in teaching. For I do not endeavor either by triumphs of confutation, or pleadings of antiquity, or assumption of authority, or even by the veil of obscurity, to invest these inventions of mine with any majesty, which might easily be done by one who sought to give luster to his own name rather than light to other men’s minds. I have not sought (I say) nor do I seek either to force or ensnare men’s judgments, but I lead them to things themselves and the concordances of things, that they may see for themselves what they have, what they can dispute, what they can add and contribute to the common stock. And for myself, if in anything I have been either too credulous or too little awake and attentive, or if I have fallen off by the way and left the inquiry incomplete, nevertheless I so present these things naked and open, that my errors can be marked and set aside before the mass of knowledge be further infected by them, and it will be easy also for others to continue and carry on my labors. And by these means I suppose that I have established forever a true and lawful marriage between the empirical and rational faculty, the unkind and illstarred divorce and separation of which has thrown into confusion all the affairs of the human family.

Wherefore, seeing that these things do not depend upon myself, at the outset of the work I most humbly and fervently pray to God the Father, God the Son, and God the Holy Ghost, that remembering the sorrows of mankind and the pilgrimage of this our life wherein we wear out days few and evil, they will vouchsafe through my hand to endow the human family with new mercies. This likewise I humbly pray, that things human may not interfere with things divine, and that from the opening of the ways of sense and the increase of natural light there may arise in our minds no incredulity or darkness with regard to the divine mysteries; but rather that the understanding being thereby purified and purged of fancies and vanity, and yet not the less subject and entirely submissive to the divine oracles, may give to faith that which is faith’s. Lastly, that knowledge being now discharged of that venom which the serpent infused into it, and which makes the mind of man to swell, we may not be wise above measure and sobriety, but cultivate truth in charity.

And now having said my prayers I turn to men, to whom I have certain salutary admonitions to offer and certain fair requests to make. My first admonition (which was also my prayer) is that men confine the sense within the limits of duty in respect of things divine, for the sense is like the sun, which reveals the face of earth, but seals and shuts up the face of heaven. My next, that in flying from this evil they fall not into the opposite error, which they will surely do if they think that the inquisition of nature is in any part interdicted or forbidden. For it was not that pure and uncorrupted natural knowledge whereby Adam gave names to the creatures according to their propriety, which gave occasion to the fall. It was the ambitious and proud desire or moral knowledge to judge of good and evil, to the end that man may revolt from God and give laws to himself, which was the form and manner of the temptation. Whereas of the sciences which regard nature, the divine philosopher declares that “it is the glory of God to conceal a thing, but it is the glory of the King to find a thing out.” Even as though the divine nature took pleasure in the innocent and kindly sport of children playing at hide and seek, and vouchsafed of his kindness and goodness to admit the human spirit for his playfellow at that game. Lastly, I would address one general admonition to all: that they consider what are the true ends of knowledge, and that they seek it not either for pleasure of the mind, or for contention, or for superiority to others, or for profit, or fame, or power, or any of these inferior things, but for the benefit and use of life, and that they perfect and govern it in charity. For it was from lust of power that the angels fell, from lust of knowledge that man fell, but of charity there can be no excess, neither did angel or man ever come in danger by it.

The requests I have to make are these. Of myself I say nothing, but in behalf of the business which is in hand I entreat men to believe that it is not an opinion to be held but a work to be done, and to be well assured that I am laboring to lay the foundation, not of any sect or doctrine, but of human utility and power. Next, I ask them to deal fairly by their own interests and laying aside all emulations and prejudices in favor of this or that opinion, to join in consultation for the common good, and being now freed and guarded by the securities and helps which I offer from the errors and impediments of the way, to come forward themselves and take part in that which remains to be done. Moreover, to be of good hope, nor to imagine that this Instauration of mine is a thing infinite and beyond the power of man, when it is in fact the true end and termination of infinite error; and seeing also that it is by no means forgetful of the condition of mortality and humanity (for it does not suppose that the work can be altogether completed within one generation, but provides for its being taken up by another); and finally that it seeks for the sciences not arrogantly in the little cells of human wit, but with reverence in the greater world. But it is the empty things that are vast. Things solid are most contracted and lie in little room. And now I have only one favor more to ask (else injustice to me may perhaps imperil the business itself): that men will consider well how far, upon that which I must needs assert (if I am to be consistent with myself), they are entitled to judge and decide upon these doctrines of mine; inasmuch as all that premature human reasoning which anticipates inquiry, and is abstracted from the facts rashly and sooner than is fit, is by me rejected (so far as the inquisition of nature is concerned) as a thing uncertain, confused, and ill built up; and I cannot be fairly asked to abide by the decision of a tribunal which is itself on trial.

THE PLAN OF THE WORK

THE WORK IS IN SIX PARTS:

1. The Divisions of the Sciences.

2. The New Organon; or Directions concerning the Interpretation of Nature.

3. The Phenomena of the Universe; or a Natural and Experimental History for the Foundation of Philosophy.

4. The Ladder of the Intellect.

5. The Forerunners; or Anticipations of the New Philosophy.

6. The New Philosophy; or Active Science.

The Arguments of the Several Parts

It being part of my design to set everything forth, as far as may be, plainly and perspicuously (for nakedness of the mind is still, as nakedness of the body once was, the companion of innocence and simplicity), let me first explain the order and plan of the work. I distribute it into six parts.

The first part exhibits a summary or general description of the knowledge which the human race at present possesses. For I thought it good to make some pause upon that which is received that thereby the old may be more easily made perfect and the new more easily approached. And I hold the improvement of that which we have to be as much an object as the acquisition of more. Besides which it will make me the better listened to, for “He that is ignorant (says the proverb) receives not the words of knowledge, unless thou first tell him that which is in his own heart.” We will therefore make a coasting voyage along the shores of the arts and sciences received; not without importing into them some useful things by the way.

In laying out the divisions of the sciences, however, I take into account not only things already invented and known, but likewise things omitted which ought to be there. For there are found in the intellectual as in the terrestrial globe waste regions as well as cultivated ones. It is no wonder therefore if I am sometimes obliged to depart from the ordinary divisions. For in adding to the total you necessarily alter the parts and sections, and the received divisions of the sciences are fitted only to the received sum of them as it stands now.

With regard to those things which I shall mark as omitted, I intend not merely to set down a simple title or a concise argument of that which is wanted. For as often as I have occasion to report anything as deficient, the nature of which is at all obscure, so that men may not perhaps easily understand what I mean or what the work is which I have in my head, I shall always (provided it be a matter of any worth) take care to subjoin either directions for the execution of such work, or else a portion of the work itself executed by myself as a sample of the whole—thus giving assistance in every case either by work or by counsel. For if it were for the sake of my own reputation only and other men’s interests were not concerned in it, I would not have any man think that in such cases merely some light and vague notion has crossed my mind, and that the things which I desire and offer at are no better than wishes, when they are in fact things which men may certainly command if they will and of which I have formed in my own mind a clear and detailed conception. For I do not propose merely to survey these regions in my mind, like an augur taking auspices, but to enter them like a general who means to take possession. So much for the first part of the work.

Having thus coasted past the ancient arts, the next point is to equip the intellect for passing beyond. To the second part, therefore, belongs the doctrine concerning the better and more perfect use of human reason in the inquisition of things, and the true helps of the understanding, that thereby (as far as the condition of mortality and humanity allows) the intellect may be raised and exalted and made capable of overcoming the difficulties and obscurities of nature. The art which I introduce with this view (which I call Interpretation of Nature) is a kind of logic, though the differences between it and the ordinary logic is great, indeed, immense. For the ordinary logic professes to contrive and prepare helps and guards for the understanding, as mine does, and in this one point they agree. But mine differs from it in three points especially: namely, in the end aimed at, in the order of demonstration, and in the starting point of the inquiry.

For the end which this science of mine proposes is the invention not of arguments but of arts; not of things in accordance with principles, but of principles themselves; not of probable reasons, but of designations and directions for works. And as the intention is different, so accordingly is the effect; the effect of the one being to overcome an opponent in argument, of the other to command nature in action.

In accordance with this end is also the nature and order of the demonstrations. For in the ordinary logic almost all the work is spent about the syllogism. Of induction the logicians seem hardly to have taken notice, and hasten on to the formulae of disputation. I, on the contrary, reject demonstration by syllogism as acting too confusedly and letting nature slip out of its hands. For although no one can doubt that things which agree in a middle term agree with one another (which is a proposition of mathematical certainty), yet it leaves an opening for deception, which is this: the syllogism consists of propositions; propositions of words; and words are the tokens and signs of notions. Now if the very notions of the mind (which are as the soul of words and the basis of the whole structure) be improperly and overhastily abstracted from facts, vague, not sufficiently definite, faulty in short in many ways, the whole edifice tumbles. I therefore reject the syllogism and that not only as regards principles (for to principles the logicians themselves do not apply it) but also as regards middle propositions, which, though obtainable no doubt by the syllogism, are, when so obtained, barren of works, remote from practice, and altogether unavailable for the active department of the sciences. Although, therefore, I leave to the syllogism and these famous and boasted modes of demonstration their jurisdiction over popular arts and such as are matter of opinions (in which department I leave all as it is), yet in dealing with the nature of things I use induction throughout and that in the minor propositions as well as the major. For I consider induction to be that form of demonstration which upholds the sense, and closes with nature, and comes to the very brink of operation, if it does not actually deal with it.

Hence it follows that the order of demonstration is likewise inverted. For hitherto the proceeding has been to fly at once from the sense and particulars up to the most general propositions, as certain fixed poles for the argument to turn upon, and from these to derive the rest by middle terms—a short way, no doubt, but precipitate, and one which will never lead to nature, though it offers an easy and ready way to disputation. Now my plan is to proceed regularly and gradually from one axiom to another so that the most general are not reached till the last; but then when you do come to them you find them to be not empty notions, but well defined, and such as nature would really recognize as her first principles, and such as lie at the heart and marrow of things.

But the greatest change I introduce is in the form itself of induction and the judgment made thereby. For the induction of which the logicians speak, which proceeds by simple enumeration, is a puerile thing, concludes at hazard, is always liable to be upset by a contradictory instance, takes into account only what is known and ordinary, and leads to no result.

Now what the sciences stand in need of is a form of induction which shall analyze experience and take it to pieces, and by a due process of exclusion and rejection lead to an inevitable conclusion. And if that ordinary mode of judgment practiced by the logicians was so laborious and found exercise for such great wits, how much more labor must we be prepared to bestow upon this other, which is extracted not merely out of the depths of the mind, but out of the very bowels of nature.

Nor is this all. For I also sink the foundations of the sciences deeper and firmer; and I begin the inquiry nearer the source than men have done heretofore, submitting to examination those things which the common logic takes on trust. For first, the logicians borrow the principles of each science from the science itself; secondly, they hold in reverence the first notions of the mind; and lastly, they receive as conclusive the immediate informations of the sense, when well disposed. Now upon the first point, I hold that true logic ought to enter the several provinces of science armed with a higher authority than belongs to the principles of those sciences themselves, and ought to call those putative principles to account until they are fully established. Then with regard to the first notions of the intellect, there is not one of the impressions taken by the intellect when left to go its own way, but I hold it for suspected and no way established until it has submitted to a new trial and a fresh judgment has been thereupon pronounced. And lastly, the information of the sense itself I sift and examine in many ways. For certain it is that the senses deceive; but then at the same time they supply the means of discovering their own errors; only the errors are here, the means of discovery are to seek.

The sense fails in two ways. Sometimes it gives no information, sometimes it gives false information. For first, there are very many things which escape the sense, even when best disposed and no way obstructed, by reason either of the subtlety of the whole body, or the minuteness of the parts, or distance of place, or slowness or else swiftness of motion, or familiarity of the object, or other causes. And again when the sense does apprehend a thing, its apprehension is not much to be relied upon. For the testimony and information of the sense has reference always to man, not to the universe; and it is a great error to assert that the sense is the measure of things.

To meet these difficulties, I have sought on all sides diligently and faithfully to provide helps for the sense—substitutes to supply its failures, rectifications to correct its errors—and this I endeavor to accomplish not so much by instruments as by experiments. For the subtlety of experiments is far greater than that of the sense itself, even when assisted by exquisite instruments; such experiments, I mean, as are skillfully and artificially devised for the express purpose of determining the point in question. To the immediate and proper perception of the sense therefore I do not give much weight; but I contrive that the office of the sense shall be only to judge of the experiment, and that the experiment itself shall judge of the thing. And thus I conceive that I perform the office of a true priest of the sense (from which all knowledge in nature must be sought unless men mean to go mad) and a not unskillful interpreter of its oracles; and that while others only profess to uphold and cultivate the sense, I do so in fact. Such then are the provisions I make for finding the genuine light of nature and kindling and bringing it to bear. And they would be sufficient of themselves, if the human intellect were even, and like a fair sheet of paper with no writing on it. But since the minds of men are strangely possessed and beset, so that there is no true and even surface left to reflect the genuine rays of things, it is necessary to seek a remedy for this also.

Now the idols or phantoms by which the mind is occupied are either adventitious or innate. The adventitious come into the mind from without: namely, either from the doctrines and sects of philosophers or from perverse rules of demonstration. But the innate are inherent in the very nature of the intellect, which is far more prone to error than the sense is. For let men please themselves as they will in admiring and almost adoring the human mind, this is certain: that as an uneven mirror distorts the rays of objects according to its own figure and section, so the mind, when it receives impressions of objects through the sense, cannot be trusted to report them truly, but in forming its notions mixes up its own nature with the nature of things.

And as the first two kinds of idols are hard to eradicate, so idols of this last kind cannot be eradicated at all. All that can be done is to point them out, so that this insidious action of the mind may be marked and reproved (else as fast as old errors are destroyed new ones will spring up out of the ill complexion of the mind itself, and so we shall have but a change of errors and not a clearance), and to lay it down once for all as a fixed and established maxim that the intellect is not qualified to judge except by means of induction, and induction in its legitimate form. This doctrine, then, of the expurgation of the intellect to qualify it for dealing with truth is comprised in three refutations: the refutation of the Philosophies, the refutation of the Demonstrations, and the refutation of the Natural Human Reason. The explanation of which things, and of the true relation between the nature of things and the nature of the mind, is as the strewing and decoration of the bridal chamber of the Mind and the Universe, the Divine Goodness assisting, out of which marriage let us hope (and be this the prayer of the bridal song) there may spring helps to man, and a line and race of inventions that may in some degree subdue and overcome the necessities and miseries of humanity. This is the second part of the work.

But I design not only to indicate and make out the ways but also to enter them. And therefore the third part of the work embraces the Phenomena of the Universe, that is to say, experience of every kind, and such a natural history as may serve for a foundation to build philosophy upon. For a good method of demonstration or form of interpreting nature may keep the mind from going astray or stumbling, but it is not any excellence of method that can supply it with the material of knowledge. Those, however, who aspire not to guess and divine, but to discover and know—who propose not to devise fabulous worlds of their own, but to examine and dissect the nature of this very world itself—must go to facts themselves for everything. Nor can the place of this labor and search and worldwide perambulation be supplied by any genius or meditation or argumentation, no, not if all men’s wits could meet in one. This therefore we must have, or the business must be forever abandoned. But up to this day such has been the condition of men in this matter that it is no wonder if nature will not give herself into their hands.

For first, the information of the sense itself, sometimes failing, sometimes false; observation, careless, irregular, and led by chance; tradition, vain and fed on rumor; practice, slavishly bent upon its work; experiment, blind, stupid, vague, and prematurely broken off; lastly, natural history trivial and poor—all these have contributed to supply the understanding with very bad materials for philosophy and the sciences.

Then an attempt is made to mend the matter by a preposterous subtlety and winnowing or argument. But this comes too late, the case being already past remedy; and is far from setting the business right or sifting away the errors. The only hope therefore of any greater increase or progress lies in a reconstruction of the sciences.

Of this reconstruction the foundation must be laid in natural history, and that of a new kind and gathered on a new principle. For it is in vain that you polish the mirror if there are no images to be reflected; and it is as necessary that the intellect should be supplied with fit matter to work upon, as with safeguards to guide its working. But my history differs from that in use (as my logic does) in many things—in end and office, in mass and composition, in subtlety, in selection also and setting forth, with a view to the operations which are to follow.

For first, the object of the natural history which I propose is not so much to delight with variety of matter or to help with present use of experiments, as to give light to the discovery of causes and supply a suckling philosophy with its first food. For though it be true that I am principally in pursuit of works and the active department of the sciences, yet I wait for harvest time, and do not attempt to mow the moss or to reap the green corn. For I well know that axioms once rightly discovered will carry whole troops of works along with them, and produce them, not here and there one, but in clusters. And that unseasonable and puerile hurry to snatch by way of earnest at the first works which come within reach, I utterly condemn and reject, as an Atalanta’s apple that hinders the race. Such then is the office of this natural history of mine.

Next, with regard to the mass and composition of it: I mean it to be a history not only of nature free and at large (when she is left to her own course and does her work her own way)—such as that of the heavenly bodies, meteors, earth and sea, minerals, plants, animals—but much more of nature under constraint and vexed; that is to say, when by art and the hand of man she is forced out of her natural state, and squeezed and molded. Therefore I set down at length all experiments of the mechanical arts, of the operative part of the liberal arts, of the many crafts which have not yet grown into arts properly so called, so far as I have been able to examine them and as they conduce to the end in view. Nay (to say the plain truth) I do in fact (low and vulgar as men may think it) count more upon this part both for helps and safeguards than upon the other, seeing that the nature of things betrays itself more readily under the vexations of art than in its natural freedom.

Nor do I confine the history to bodies, but I have thought it my duty besides to make a separate history of such virtues as may be considered cardinal in nature. I mean those original passions or desires of matter which constitute the primary elements of nature; such as dense and rare, hot and cold, solid and fluid, heavy and light, and several others.

Then again, to speak of subtlety: I seek out and get together a kind of experiments much subtler and simpler than those which occur accidentally. For I drag into light many things which no one who was not proceeding by a regular and certain way to the discovery of causes would have thought of inquiring after, being indeed in themselves of no great use, which shows that they were not sought for on their own account, but having just the same relation to things and works which the letters of the alphabet have to speech and words—which, though in themselves useless, are the elements of which all discourse is made up.

Further, in the selection of the relation and experiments, I conceive I have been a more cautious purveyor than those who have hitherto dealt with natural history. For I admit nothing but on the faith of eyes, or at least of careful and severe examination, so that nothing is exaggerated for wonder’s sake, but what I state is sound and without mixture of fables or vanity. All received or current falsehoods also (which by strange negligence have been allowed for many ages to prevail and become established) I proscribe and brand by name, that the sciences may be no more troubled with them. For it has been well observed that the fables and superstitions and follies which nurses instill into children do serious injury to their minds, and the same consideration makes me anxious, having the management of the childhood as it were of philosophy in its course of natural history, not to let it accustom itself in the beginning to any vanity. Moreover, whenever I come to a new experiment of any subtlety (though it be in my own opinion certain and approved), I nevertheless subjoin a clear account of the manner in which I made it, that men knowing exactly how each point was made out, may see whether there be any error connected with it, and may arouse themselves to devise proofs more trustworthy and exquisite, if such can be found. And finally, I interpose everywhere admonitions and scruples and cautions, with a religious care to eject, repress, and as it were exorcise every kind of phantasm.

Lastly, knowing how much the sight of man’s mind is distracted by experience and history, and how hard it is at the first (especially for minds either tender or preoccupied) to become familiar with nature, I not infrequently subjoin observations of my own, being as the first offers, inclinations, and as it were glances of history towards philosophy; both by way of an assurance to men that they will not be kept forever tossing on the waves of experience, and also that when the time comes for the intellect to begin its work, it may find everything the more ready. By such a natural history then as I have described, I conceive that a safe and convenient approach may be made to nature, and matter supplied of good quality and well prepared for the understanding to work upon.

And now that we have surrounded the intellect with faithful helps and guards, and got together with more careful selection a regular army of divine works, it may seem that we have no more to do but to proceed to philosophy itself. And yet in a matter so difficult and doubtful there are still some things which it seems necessary to premise, partly for convenience of explanation, partly for present use.

Of these the first is to set forth examples of inquiry and invention according to my method, exhibited by anticipation in some particular subjects; choosing such subjects as are at once the most noble in themselves among those under inquiry, and most different one from another, that there may be an example in every kind. I do not speak of those examples which are joined to the several precepts and rules by way of illustration (for of these I have given plenty in the second part of the work), but I mean actual types and models, by which the entire process of the mind and the whole fabric and order of invention from the beginning to the end, in certain subjects, and those various and remarkable, should be set as it were before the eyes. For I remember that in the mathematics it is easy to follow the demonstration when you have a machine beside you, whereas without that help all appears involved and more subtle than it really is. To examples of this kind, being in fact nothing more than an application of the second part in detail and at large, the fourth part of the work is devoted.

The fifth part is for temporary use only, pending the completion of the rest, like interest payable from time to time until the principal be forthcoming. For I do not make so blindly for the end of my journey, as to neglect anything useful that may turn up by the way. And therefore I include in this fifth part such things as I have myself discovered, proved, or added—not however according to the true rules and methods of interpretation, but by the ordinary use of the understanding in inquiring and discovering. For besides that I hope my speculations may in virtue of my continual conversancy with nature have a value beyond the pretensions of my wit, they will serve in the meantime for wayside inns, in which the mind may rest and refresh itself on its journey to more certain conclusions. Nevertheless, I wish it to be understood in the meantime that they are conclusions by which (as not being discovered and proved by the true form of interpretation) I do not at all mean to bind myself. Nor need any one be alarmed at such suspension of judgment, in one who maintains not simply that nothing can be known, but only that nothing can be known except in a certain course and way; and yet establishes provisionally certain degrees of assurance, for use and relief until the mind shall arrive at a knowledge of causes in which it can rest. For even those schools of philosophy which held the absolute impossibility of knowing anything were not inferior to those which took upon them to pronounce. But then they did not provide helps for the sense and understanding, as I have done, but simply took away all their authority, which is quite a different thing—almost the reverse.

The sixth part of my work (to which the rest is subservient and ministrant) discloses and sets forth that philosophy which by the legitimate, chaste, and severe course of inquiry which I have explained and provided is at length developed and established. The completion, however, of this last part is a thing both above my strength and beyond my hopes. I have made a beginning of the work—a beginning, as I hope, not unimportant—the fortune of the human race will give the issue, such an issue, it may be, as in the present condition of things and men’s minds cannot easily be conceived or imagined. For the matter in hand is no mere felicity of speculation, but the real business and fortunes of the human race, and all power of operation. For man is but the servant and interpreter of nature: what he does and what he knows is only what he has observed of nature’s order in fact or in thought; beyond this he knows nothing and can do nothing. For the chain of causes cannot by any force be loosed or broken, nor can nature be commanded except by being obeyed. And so those twin objects, human knowledge and human power, do really meet in one, and it is from ignorance of causes that operation fails.

And all depends on keeping the eye steadily fixed upon the facts of nature and so receiving their images simply as they are. For God forbid that we should give out a dream of our own imagination for a pattern of the world; rather may he graciously grant to us to write an apocalypse or true vision of the footsteps of the Creator imprinted on his creatures.

Therefore do thou, O Father, who gave the visible light as the first fruits of creation, and did breathe into the face of man the intellectual light as the crown and consummation thereof, guard and protect this work, which coming from thy goodness returneth to thy glory. Thou, when thou turned to look upon the works which thy hands had made, saw that all was very good and did rest from thy labors. But man when he turned to look upon the work which his hands had made, saw that all was vanity and vexation of spirit, and could find no rest therein. Wherefore if we labor in thy works with the sweat of our brows, thou will make us partakers of thy vision and thy Sabbath. Humbly we pray that this mind may be steadfast in us, and that through these our hands, and the hands of others to whom thou shall give the same spirit, thou will vouchsafe to endow the human family with new mercies.

THE NEW ORGANON
OR, TRUE DIRECTIONS CONCERNING THE
INTERPRETATION OF NATURE

PREFACE

Those who have taken upon them to lay down the law of nature as a thing already searched out and understood whether they have spoken in simple assurance or professional affectation, have therein done philosophy and the sciences great injury. For as they have been successful in inducing belief, so they have been effective in quenching and stopping inquiry, and have done more harm by spoiling and putting an end to other men’s efforts than good by their own.

Those on the other hand who have taken a contrary course, and asserted that absolutely nothing can be known—whether it were from hatred of the ancient sophists, or from uncertainty and fluctuation of mind, or even from a kind of fullness of learning, that they fell upon this opinion—have certainly advanced reasons for it that are not to be despised; but yet they have neither started from true principles nor rested in the just conclusion, zeal and affectation having carried them much too far.

The more ancient of the Greeks (whose writings are lost) took up with better judgment a position between these two extremes—between the presumption of pronouncing on everything, and the despair of comprehending anything—and though frequently and bitterly complaining of the difficulty of inquiry and the obscurity of things, and like impatient horses champing the bit, they did not the less follow up their object and engage with Nature, thinking (it seems) that this very question, namely, whether or not anything can be known, was to be settled not by arguing but by trying. And yet they too, trusting entirely to the force of their understanding, applied no rule, but made everything turn upon hard thinking and perpetual working and exercise of the mind.

Now my method, though hard to practice, is easy to explain, and it is this: I propose to establish progressive stages of certainty. The evidence of the sense, helped and guarded by a certain process of correction, I retain. But the mental operation which follows the act of sense I for the most part reject; and instead of it I open and lay out a new and certain path for the mind to proceed in, starting directly from the simple sensuous perception. The necessity of this was felt no doubt by those who attributed so much importance to logic, showing thereby that they were in search of helps for the understanding, and had no confidence in the native and spontaneous process of the mind. But this remedy comes too late to do any good, when the mind is already, through the daily intercourse and conversation of life, occupied with unsound doctrines and beset on all sides by vain imaginations. And therefore that art of Logic, coming (as I said) too late to the rescue, and no way able to set matters right again, has had the effect of fixing errors rather than disclosing truth.

There remains but one course for the recovery of a sound and healthy condition—namely, that the entire work of the understanding be commenced afresh, and the mind itself be from the very outset not left to take its own course, but guided at every step, and the business be done as if by machinery. Certainly, if in things mechanical men had set to work with their naked hands, without help or force of instruments, just as in things intellectual they have set to work with little else than the naked forces of the understanding, very small would the matters have been which, even with their best efforts applied in conjunction, they could have attempted or accomplished. Now (to pause awhile upon this example and look in it as in a glass) let us suppose that some vast obelisk were (for the decoration of a triumph or some such magnificence) to be removed from its place, and that men should set to work upon it with their naked hands; would not any sober spectator think them mad? And if they should then send for more people, thinking that in that way they might manage it, would he not think them all the madder? And if they then proceeded to make a selection, putting away the weaker hands, and using only the strong and vigorous, would he not think them madder than ever? And if lastly, not content with this, they resolved to call in aid the art of athletics, and required all their men to come with hands, arms, and sinews well anointed and medicated according to the rules of art, would he not cry out that they were only taking pains to show a kind of method and discretion in their madness? Yet just so it is that men proceed in matters intellectual—with just the same kind of mad effort and useless combination of forces—when they hope great things either from the number and cooperation or from the excellency and acuteness of individual wits; yes, and when they endeavor by logic (which may be considered as a kind of athletic art) to strengthen the sinews of the understanding, and yet with all this study and endeavor it is apparent to any true judgment that they are but applying the naked intellect all the time. Whereas in every great work to be done by the hand of man it is manifestly impossible, without instruments and machinery, either for the strength of each to be exerted or the strength of all to be united.

Upon these premises two things occur to me of which, that they may not be overlooked, I would have men reminded. First it falls out fortunately as I think for the allaying of contradictions and heart burnings, that the honor and reverence due to the ancients remain untouched and undiminished, while I may carry out my designs and at the same time reap the fruit of my modesty. For if I should profess that I, going the same road as the ancients, have something better to produce, there must needs have been some comparison or rivalry between us (not to be avoided by any art of words) in respect of excellency or ability of wit. And though in this there would be nothing unlawful or new (for if there be anything misapprehended by them, or false laid down, why may not I, using a liberty common to all, take exception to it?), yet the contest, however just and allowable, would have been an unequal one perhaps, in respect of the measure of my own powers. As it is, however, my object being to open a new way for the understanding, a way by them untried and unknown, the case is altered. Party zeal and emulation are at an end and I appear merely as a guide to point out the road—an office of small authority, and depending more upon a kind of luck than upon any ability or excellency. And thus much relates to the persons only. The other point of which I would have men reminded relates to the matter itself.

Be it remembered then that I am far from wishing to interfere with the philosophy which now flourishes, or with any other philosophy more correct and complete than this which has been or may hereafter be propounded. For I do not object to the use of this received philosophy, or others like it, for supplying matter for disputations or ornaments for discourse—for the professor’s lecture and for the business of life. Nay more, I declare openly that for these uses the philosophy which I bring forward will not be much available. It does not lie in the way. It cannot be caught up in passage. It does not flatter the understanding by conformity with preconceived notions. Nor will it come down to the apprehension of the vulgar except by its utility and effects.

Let there be therefore (and may it be for the benefit of both) two streams and two dispensations of knowledge, and in like manner two tribes or kindreds of students in philosophy—tribes not hostile or alien to each other, but bound together by mutual services. Let there in short be one method for the cultivation, another for the invention, of knowledge.

And for those who prefer the former, either from hurry or from considerations of business or for want of mental power to take in and embrace the other (which must needs be most men’s case), I wish that they may succeed to their desire in what they are about, and obtain what they are pursuing. But if any man there be who, not content to rest in and use the knowledge which has already been discovered, aspires to penetrate further; to overcome, not an adversary in argument, but nature in action; to seek, not pretty and probable conjectures, but certain and demonstrable knowledge; I invite all such to join themselves, as true sons of knowledge, with me, that passing by the outer courts of nature, which numbers have trodden, we may find a way at length into her inner chambers. And to make my meaning clearer and to familiarize the thing by giving it a name, I have chosen to call one of these methods or ways Anticipation of the Mind, the other Interpretation of Nature.

Moreover I have one request to make. I have on my own part made it my care and study that the things which I shall propound should not only be true, but should also be presented to men’s minds, how strangely soever preoccupied and obstructed, in a manner not harsh or unpleasant. It is but reasonable, however (especially in so great a restoration of learning and knowledge) that I should claim of men one favor in return; which is this: If any one would form an opinion or judgment either out of his own observation, or out of the crowd of authorities, or out of the forms of demonstration (which have now acquired a sanction like that of judicial laws), concerning these speculations of mine, let him not hope that he can do it in passage or by the by; but let him examine the thing thoroughly. Let him make some little trial for himself of the way which I describe and lay out. Let him familiarize his thoughts with that subtlety of nature to which experience bears witness. Let him correct by seasonable patience and due delay the depraved and deep-rooted habits of his mind. And when all this is done and he has begun to be his own master, let him (if he will) use his own judgment.

APHORISMS
CONCERNING THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE
AND THE KINGDOM OF MAN
 [BOOK ONE]

1

Man, being the servant and interpreter of Nature, can do and understand so much and so much only as he has observed in fact or in thought of the course of nature: Beyond this he neither knows anything nor can do anything.

2

Neither the naked hand nor the understanding left to itself can effect much. It is by instruments and helps that the work is done, which are as much wanted for the understanding as for the hand. And as the instruments of the hand either give motion or guide it, so the instruments of the mind supply either suggestions for the understanding or cautions.

3

Human knowledge and human power meet in one, for where the cause is not known the effect cannot be produced. Nature to be commanded must be obeyed, and that which in contemplation is as the cause is in operation as the rule.

4

Towards the effecting of works, all that man can do is to put together or put asunder natural bodies. The rest is done by nature working within.

5

The study of nature with a view to works is engaged in by the mechanic, the mathematician, the physician, the alchemist, and the magician, but by all (as things now are) with slight endeavor and scanty success.

6

It would be an unsound fancy and self-contradictory to expect that things which have never yet been done can be done except by means which have never yet been tried.

7

The productions of the mind and hand seem very numerous in books and manufactures. But all this variety lies in an exquisite subtlety and derivations from a few things already known—not in the number of axioms.

8

Moreover the works already known are due to chance and experiment rather than to sciences; for the sciences we now possess are merely systems for the nice ordering and setting forth of things already invented—not methods of invention or directions for new works.

9

The cause and root of nearly all evils in the sciences is this: that while we falsely admire and extol the powers of the human mind we neglect to seek for its true helps.

10

The subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of the senses and understanding, so that all those specious meditations, speculations, and glosses in which men indulge are quite from the purpose, only there is no one by to observe it.

11

As the sciences which we now have do not help us in finding out new works, so neither does the logic which we now have help us in finding out new sciences.

12

The logic now in use serves rather to fix and give stability to the errors which have their foundation in commonly received notions than to help the search after truth. So it does more harm than good.

13

The syllogism is not applied to the first principles of sciences, and is applied in vain to intermediate axioms, being no match for the subtlety of nature. It commands assent therefore to the proposition, but does not take hold of the thing.

14

The syllogism consists of propositions, propositions consist of words, words are symbols of notions. Therefore if the notions themselves (which is the root of the matter) are confused and overhastily abstracted from the facts, there can be no firmness in the superstructure. Our only hope therefore lies in a true induction.

15

There is no soundness in our notions whether logical or physical. Substance, Quality, Action, Passion, Essence itself, are not sound notions. Much less are Heavy, Light, Dense, Rare, Moist, Dry, Generation, Corruption, Attraction, Repulsion, Element, Matter, Form, and the like. All are fantastical and ill defined.

16

Our notions of less general species, as man, dog, dove, and of the immediate perceptions of the sense, as hot, cold, black, white, do not materially mislead us; yet even these are sometimes confused by the flux and alteration of matter and the mixing of one thing with another. All the others which men have hitherto adopted are but wanderings, not being abstracted and formed from things by proper methods.

17

Nor is there less of willfulness and wandering in the construction of axioms than in the formations of notions, not excepting even those very principles which are obtained by common induction, but much more in the axioms and lower propositions educed by the syllogism.

18

The discoveries which have hitherto been made in the sciences are such as lie close to vulgar notions, scarcely beneath the surface. In order to penetrate into the inner and further recesses of nature, it is necessary that both notions and axioms be derived from things by a more sure and guarded way; and that a method of intellectual operation be introduced altogether better and more certain.

19

There are and can be only two ways of searching into and discovering truth. The one flies from the senses and particulars to the most general axioms, and from these principles, the truth of which it takes for settled and immovable, proceeds to judgment and to the discovery of middle axioms. And this way is now in fashion. The other derives axioms from the senses and particulars, rising by a gradual and unbroken ascent, so that it arrives at the most general axioms last of all. This is the true way, but as yet untried.

20

The understanding left to itself takes the same course (namely, the former) which it takes in accordance with logical order. For the mind longs to spring up to positions of higher generality, that it may find rest there, and so after a little while wearies of experiment. But this evil is increased by logic, because of the order and solemnity of its disputations.

21

The understanding left to itself in a sober, patient, and grave mind, especially if it be not hindered by received doctrines, tries a little that other way, which is the right one, but with little progress since the understanding, unless directed and assisted, is a thing unequal, and quite unfit to contend with the obscurity of things.

22

Both ways set out from the senses and particulars, and rest in the highest generalities, but the difference between them is infinite. For the one just glances at experiment and particulars in passing, the other dwells duly and orderly among them. The one, again, begins at once by establishing certain abstract and useless generalities, the other rises by gradual steps to that which is prior and better known in the order of nature.

23

There is a great difference between the Idols of the human mind and the Ideas of the divine. That is to say, between certain empty dogmas, and the true signatures and marks set upon the works of creation as they are found in nature.

24

It cannot be that axioms established by argumentation should avail for the discovery of new works, since the subtlety of nature is greater many times over than the subtlety of argument. But axioms duly and orderly formed from particulars easily discover the way to new particulars, and thus render sciences active.

25

The axioms now in use, having been suggested by a scanty and manipular experience and a few particulars of most general occurrence, are made for the most part just large enough to fit and take these in, and therefore it is no wonder if they do not lead to new particulars. And if some opposite instance, not observed or not known before, chance to come in the way, the axiom is rescued and preserved by some frivolous distinction, whereas the truer course would be to correct the axiom itself.

26

The conclusions of human reason as ordinarily applied in matter of nature, I call for the sake of distinction Anticipations of Nature (as a thing rash or premature). That reason which is elicited from facts by a just and methodical process, I call Interpretation of Nature.

27

Anticipations are a ground sufficiently firm for consent, for even if men went mad all after the same fashion, they might agree one with another well enough.

28

For the winning of assent, indeed, anticipations are far more powerful than interpretations; because being collected from a few instances, and those for the most part of familiar occurrence, they straightway touch the understanding and fill the imagination. Whereas interpretations, on the other hand, being gathered here and there from very various and widely dispersed facts, cannot suddenly strike the understanding, and therefore they must needs, in respect of the opinions of the time, seem harsh and out of tune, much as the mysteries of faith do.

29

In sciences founded on opinions and dogmas, the use of anticipations and logic is good, for in them the object is to command assent to the proposition, not to master the thing.

30

Though all the wits of all the ages should meet together and combine and transmit their labors, yet will no great progress ever be made in science by means of anticipations because radical errors in the first concoction of the mind are not to be cured by the excellence of functions and remedies subsequent.

31

It is idle to expect any great advancement in science from the superinducing and engrafting of new things upon old. We must begin anew from the very foundations, unless we would revolve forever in a circle with mean and contemptible progress.

32

The honor of the ancient authors, and indeed of all, remains untouched since the comparison I challenge is not of wits or faculties, but of ways and methods, and the part I take upon myself is not that of a judge, but of a guide.

33

This must be plainly avowed: no judgment can be rightly formed either of my method or of the discoveries to which it leads, by means of anticipations (that is to say, of the reasoning which is now in use) since I cannot be called on to abide by the sentence of a tribunal which is itself on its trial.

34

Even to deliver and explain what I bring forward is no easy matter, for things in themselves new will yet be apprehended with reference to what is old.

35

It was said by Borgia of the expedition of the French into Italy, that they came with chalk in their hands to mark out their lodgings, not with arms to force their way in. I, in like manner, would have my doctrine enter quietly into the minds that are fit and capable of receiving it—for confutations cannot be employed when the difference is upon first principles and very notions and even upon forms of demonstration.

36

One method of delivery alone remains to us, which is simply this: We must lead men to the particulars themselves, and their series and order. While men on their side must force themselves for awhile to lay their notions by and begin to familiarize themselves with facts.

37

The doctrine of those who have denied that certainty could be attained at all, has some agreement with my way of proceeding at the first setting out, but they end in being infinitely separated and opposed. For the holders of that doctrine assert simply that nothing can be known. I also assert that not much can be known in nature by the way which is now in use. But then they go on to destroy the authority of the senses and understanding, whereas I proceed to devise and supply helps for the same.

38

The idols and false notions which are now in possession of the human understanding, and have taken deep root therein, not only so beset men’s minds that truth can hardly find entrance, but even after entrance is obtained, they will again in the very instauration of the sciences meet and trouble us, unless men being forewarned of the danger fortify themselves as far as may be against their assaults.

39

There are four classes of Idols which beset men’s minds. To these for distinction’s sake I have assigned names—calling the first class Idols of the Tribe; the second, Idols of the Cave; the third, Idols of the Marketplace; the fourth, Idols of the Theater.

40

The formation of ideas and axioms by true induction is no doubt the proper remedy to be applied for the keeping off and clearing away of idols. To point them out, however, is of great use—for the doctrine of idols is to the interpretation of nature what the doctrine of the refutation of sophisms is to common logic.

41

The Idols of the Tribe have their foundation in human nature itself, and in the tribe or race of men. For it is a false assertion that the sense of man is the measure of things. On the contrary, all perceptions as well as of the sense as of the mind are according to the measure of the individual and not according to the measure of the universe. And the human understanding is like a false mirror, which receiving rays irregularly, distorts and discolors the nature of things by mingling its own nature with it.

42

The Idols of the Cave are the idols of the individual man. For everyone (besides the errors common to human nature in general) has a cave or den of his own, which refracts and discolors the light of nature, owing either to his own proper and peculiar nature; or to his education and conversation with others; or to the reading of books, and the authority of those whom he esteems and admires; or to the differences of impressions, accordingly as they take place in a mind preoccupied and predisposed or in a mind indifferent and settled; or the like. So that the spirit of man (according as it is meted out to different individuals) is in fact a thing variable and full of perturbation, and governed as it were by chance. Whence it was well observed by Heraclitus that men look for sciences in their own lesser worlds, and not in the greater or common world.

43

There are also idols formed by the intercourse and association of men with each other, which I call Idols of the Marketplace on account of the commerce and consort of men there. For it is by discourse that men associate, and words are imposed according to the apprehension of the vulgar. And therefore the ill and unfit choice of words wonderfully obstructs the understanding. Nor do the definitions or explanations wherewith in some things learned men are wont to guard and defend themselves, by any means set the matter right. But words plainly force and overrule the understanding and throw all into confusion, and lead men away into numberless empty controversies and idle fancies.

44

Lastly, there are idols which have immigrated into men’s minds from the various dogmas of philosophies, and also from wrong laws of demonstration. These I call Idols of the Theater because in my judgment all the received systems are but so many stage plays, representing worlds of their own creation after an unreal and scenic fashion. Nor is it only of the systems now in vogue, or only of the ancient sects and philosophies, that I speak; for many more plays of the same kind may yet be composed and in like artificial manner set forth, seeing that errors the most widely different have nevertheless causes for the most part alike. Neither again do I mean this only of entire systems, but also of many principles and axioms in science, which by tradition, credulity, and negligence have come to be received.

But of these several kinds of idols I must speak more largely and exactly, that the understanding may be duly cautioned.

45

[The Idols of the Tribe arise because] the human understanding is of its own nature prone to suppose the existence of more order and regularity in the world than it finds. And though there be many things in nature which are singular and unmatched, yet it devises for them parallels and conjugates and relatives which do not exist. Hence the fiction that all celestial bodies move in perfect circles; spirals and dragons being (except in name) utterly rejected. Hence too the element of fire with its orb is brought in, to make up the square with the other three which the sense perceives. Hence also the ratio of density of the so-called elements is arbitrarily fixed at ten to one. And so on of other dreams. And these fancies affect not dogmas only, but simple notions also.

46

The human understanding when it has once adopted an opinion (either as being the received opinion or as being agreeable to itself) draws all things else to support and agree with it. And though there be a greater number and weight of instances to be found on the other side, yet these it either neglects and despises, or else by some distinction sets aside and rejects in order that by this great and pernicious predetermination, the authority of its former conclusions may remain inviolate. And therefore it was a good answer that was made by one who replied, when they showed him hanging in a temple a picture of those who had paid their vows as having escaped shipwreck, and would have him say whether he did not now acknowledge the power of the gods—“Aye,” and asked in return, “but where are they painted that were drowned after their vows?” And such is the way of all superstition, whether in astrology, dreams, omens, divine judgments, or the like wherein men, having a delight in such vanities, mark the events where they are fulfilled, but where they fail, though this happen much oftener, neglect and pass them by. But with far more subtlety does this mischief insinuate itself into philosophy and the sciences, in which the first conclusion colors and brings into conformity with itself all that come after, though far sounder and better. Besides, independently of that delight and vanity which I have described, it is the peculiar and perpetual error of the human intellect to be more moved and excited by affirmatives than by negatives; whereas it ought properly to hold itself indifferently disposed towards both alike. Indeed in the establishment of any true axiom, the negative instance is the more forcible of the two.

47

The human understanding is moved by those things most which strike and enter the mind simultaneously and suddenly, and so fill the imagination, and then it feigns and supposes all other things to be somehow, though it cannot see how, similar to those few things by which it is surrounded. But for that going to and fro to remote and heterogeneous instances, by which axioms are tried as in the fire, the intellect is altogether slow and unfit, unless it be forced thereto by severe laws and overruling authority.

48

The human understanding is unquiet. It cannot stop or rest, and still presses onward, but in vain. Therefore it is that we cannot conceive of any end or limit to the world, but always as of necessity it occurs to us that there is something beyond. Neither again can it be conceived how eternity has flowed down to the present day, for that distinction which is commonly received of infinity in time past and in time to come can by no means hold, for it would thence follow that one infinity is greater than another, and that infinity is wasting away and tending to become finite. The like subtlety arises touching the infinite divisibility of lines, from the same inability of thought to stop. But this inability interferes more mischievously in the discovery of causes, for although the most general principles in nature ought to be held merely positive, as they are discovered, and cannot with truth be referred to a cause, nevertheless the human understanding being unable to rest still seeks something prior in the order of nature. And then it is that in struggling towards that which is further off it falls back upon that which is more nigh at hand; namely, on final causes, which have relation clearly to the nature of man rather than to the nature of the universe; and from this source have strangely defiled philosophy. But he is no less an unskilled and shallow philosopher who seeks causes of that which is most general, than he who in things subordinate and subaltern omits to do so.

49

The human understanding is no dry light, but receives an infusion from the will and affections; whence proceed sciences which may be called “sciences as one would.” For what a man had rather were true he more readily believes. Therefore he rejects difficult things from impatience of research; sober things because they narrow hope; the deeper things of nature from superstition; the light of experience from arrogance and pride, lest his mind should seem to be occupied with things mean and transitory; things not commonly believed, out of deference to the opinion of the vulgar. Numberless, in short, are the ways, and sometimes imperceptible, in which the affections color and infect the understanding.

50

But by far the greatest hindrance and aberration of the human understanding proceeds from the dullness, incompetency, and deceptions of the senses; in that things which strike the sense outweigh things which do not immediately strike it, though they be more important. Hence it is that speculation commonly ceases where sight ceases, insomuch that of things invisible there is little or no observation. Hence all the working of the spirits enclosed in tangible bodies lies hid and unobserved of men. So also all the more subtle changes of form in the parts of coarser substances (which they commonly call alteration, though it is in truth local motion through exceedingly small spaces) is in like manner unobserved. And yet unless these two things just mentioned be searched out and brought to light, nothing great can be achieved in nature, as far as the production of works is concerned. So again, the essential nature of our common air, and of all bodies less dense than air (which are very many), is almost unknown. For the sense by itself is a thing infirm and erring; neither can instruments for enlarging or sharpening the senses do much; but all the truer kind of interpretation of nature is effected by instances and experiments fit and apposite; wherein the sense decides touching the experiment only, and the experiment touching the point in nature and the thing itself.

51

The human understanding is of its own nature prone to abstractions and gives a substance and reality to things which are fleeting. But to resolve nature into abstractions is less to our purpose than to dissect her into parts, as did the school of Democritus, which went further into nature than the rest. Matter, rather than forms, should be the object of our attention—its configurations and changes of configuration, and simple action, and law of action or motion—for forms are figments of the human mind, unless you will call those laws of action forms.

52

Such then are the idols which I call Idols of the Tribe, and which take their rise either from the homogeneity of the substance of the human spirit, or from its preoccupation, or from its narrowness, or from its restless motion, or from an infusion of the affections, or from the incompetency of the senses, or from the mode of impression.

53

The Idols of the Cave take their rise in the peculiar constitution, mental or bodily, of each individual; and also in education, habit, and accident. Of this kind there is a great number and variety, but I will instance those the pointing out of which contains the most important caution, and which have most effect in disturbing the clearness of the understanding.

54

Men become attached to certain particular sciences and speculations, either because they fancy themselves the authors and inventors thereof, or because they have bestowed the greatest pains upon them and become most habituated to them. But men of this kind, if they betake themselves to philosophy and contemplations of a general character, distort and color them in obedience to their former fancies; a thing especially to be noticed in Aristotle, who made his natural philosophy a mere bond servant to his logic, thereby rendering it contentious and well nigh useless. The race of chemists, again out of a few experiments of the furnace, have built up a fantastic philosophy, framed with reference to a few things; and Gilbert also, after he had employed himself most laboriously in the study and observation of the lodestone, proceeded at once to construct an entire system in accordance with his favorite subject.

55

There is one principal and as it were radical distinction between different minds, in respect of philosophy and the sciences, which is this: that some minds are stronger and more apt to mark the differences of things, others to mark their resemblances. The steady and acute mind can fix its contemplations and dwell and fasten on the subtlest distinctions, the lofty and discursive mind recognizes and puts together the finest and most general resemblances. Both kinds, however, easily err in excess, by catching the one at gradations, the other at shadows.

56

There are found some minds given to an extreme admiration of antiquity, others to an extreme love and appetite for novelty, but few so duly tempered that they can hold the mean, neither carping at what has been well laid down by the ancients, nor despising what is well introduced by the moderns. This, however, turns to the great injury of the sciences and philosophy since these affectations of antiquity and novelty are the humors of partisans rather than judgments; and truth is to be sought for not in the felicity of any age, which is an unstable thing, but in the light of nature and experience, which is eternal. These factions, therefore, must be abjured and care must be taken that the intellect be not hurried by them into assent.

57

Contemplations of nature and of bodies in their simple form break up and distract the understanding, while contemplations of nature and bodies in their composition and configuration overpower and dissolve the understanding: a distinction well seen in the school of Leucippus and Democritus as compared with the other philosophies. For that school is so busied with the particles that it hardly attends to the structure, while the others are so lost in admiration of the structure that they do not penetrate to the simplicity of nature. These kinds of contemplation should therefore be alternated and taken by turns so that the understanding may be rendered at once penetrating and comprehensive, and the inconveniences above mentioned, with the idols which proceed from them, may be avoided.

58

Let such then be our provision and contemplative prudence for keeping off and dislodging the Idols of the Cave, which grow for the most part either out of the predominance of a favorite subject, or out of an excessive tendency to compare or to distinguish, or out of partiality for particular ages, or out of the largeness or minuteness of the objects contemplated. And generally let every student of nature take this as a rule: that whatever his mind seizes and dwells upon with peculiar satisfaction is to be held in suspicion, and that so much the more care is to be taken in dealing with such questions to keep the understanding even and clear.

59

But the Idols of the Marketplace are the most troublesome of all—idols which have crept into the understanding through the alliances of words and names. For men believe that their reason governs words, but it is also true that words react on the understanding; and this it is that has rendered philosophy and the sciences sophistical and inactive. Now words, being commonly framed and applied according to the capacity of the vulgar, follow those lines of division which are most obvious to the vulgar understanding. And whenever an understanding of greater acuteness or a more diligent observation would alter those lines to suit the true divisions of nature, words stand in the way and resist the change. Whence it comes to pass that the high and formal discussions of learned men end oftentimes in disputes about words and names, with which (according to the use and wisdom of the mathematicians) it would be more prudent to begin, and so by means of definitions reduce them to order. Yet even definitions cannot cure this evil in dealing with natural and material things since the definitions themselves consist of words, and those words beget others, so that it is necessary to recur to individual instances, and those in due series and order as I shall say presently when I come to the method and scheme for the formation of notions and axioms.

60

The idols imposed by words on the understanding are of two kinds. They are either names of things which do not exist (for as there are things left unnamed through lack of observation, so likewise are there names which result from fantastic suppositions and to which nothing in reality corresponds), or they are names of things which exist, but yet confused and ill-defined, and hastily and irregularly derived from realities. Of the former kind are Fortune, the Prime Mover, Planetary Orbits, Element of Fire, and like fictions which owe their origin to false and idle theories. And this class of idols is more easily expelled because to get rid of them it is only necessary that all theories should be steadily rejected and dismissed as obsolete.

But the other class, which springs out of a faulty and unskillful abstraction, is intricate and deeply rooted. Let us take for example such a words as humid and see how far the several things which the word is used to signify agree with each other and we shall find the word humid to be nothing else than a mark loosely and confusedly applied to denote a variety of actions which will not bear to be reduced to any constant meaning. For it both signifies that which easily spreads itself round any other body, and that which in itself is indeterminate and cannot solidify, and that which readily yields in every direction, and that which easily divides and scatters itself, and that which easily unites and collects itself, and that which readily flows and is put in motion, and that which readily clings to another body and wets it, and that which is easily reduced to liquid or being solid easily melts. Accordingly, when you come to apply the word, if you take it in one sense, flame is humid; if in another, air is not humid; if in another, fine dust is humid; if in another, glass is humid. So that it is easy to see that the notion is taken by abstraction only from water and common and ordinary liquids, without any due verification.

There are however in words certain degrees of distortion and error. One of the least faulty kinds is that of names of substances, especially of lowest species and well-deduced (for the notion of chalk and of mud is good, of earth bad); a more faulty kind is that of actions, as to generate, to corrupt, to alter; the most faulty is of qualities (except such as are the immediate objects of the sense) as heavy, light, rare, dense, and the like. Yet in all these cases some notions are of necessity a little better than others, in proportion to the greater variety of subjects that fall within the range of the human sense.

61

But the Idols of the Theater are not innate, nor do they steal into the understanding secretly, but are plainly impressed and received into the mind from the play books of philosophical systems and the perverted rules of demonstration. To attempt refutations in this case would be merely inconsistent with what I have already said, for since we agree neither upon principles nor upon demonstrations, there is no place for argument. And this is so far well, inasmuch as it leaves the honor of the ancients untouched. For they are no wise disparaged—the question between them and me being only as to the way. For as the saying is, the lame man who keeps the right road outstrips the runner who takes a wrong one. Nay it is obvious that when a man runs the wrong way, the more active and swift he is the further he will go astray.

But the course I propose for the discovery of sciences is such as leaves but little to the acuteness and strength of wits, but places all wits and understandings nearly on a level. For as in the drawing of a straight line or a perfect circle, much depends on the steadiness and practice of the hand, if it be done by aim of hand only, but if with the aid of rule or compass, little or nothing; so is it exactly with my plan. But though particular confutations would be of no avail, yet touching the sects and general divisions of such systems I must say something; something also touching the external signs which show that they are unsound; and finally something touching the causes of such great infelicity and of such lasting and general agreement in error; that so the access to truth may be made less difficult, and the human understanding may the more willingly submit to its purgation and dismiss its idols.

62

Idols of the Theater, or of Systems, are many, and there can be and perhaps will be yet many more. For were it not that now for many ages men’s minds have been busied with religion and theology; and were it not that civil governments, especially monarchies, have been adverse to such novelties, even in matters speculative, so that men labor therein to the peril and harming of their fortunes (not only unrewarded, but exposed also to contempt and envy), doubtless there would have arisen many other philosophical sects like to those which in great variety flourished once among the Greeks. For, as on the phenomena of the heavens many hypotheses may be constructed, so likewise (and more also) many various dogmas may be set up and established on the phenomena of philosophy. And in the play of this philosophical theater you may observe the same thing which is found in the theater of the poets, that stories invented for the stage are more compact and elegant, and more as one would wish them to be, than true stories out of history.

In general, however, there is taken for the material of philosophy either a great deal out of a few things, or a very little out of many things, so that on both sides philosophy is based on too narrow a foundation of experiment and natural history, and decides on the authority of too few cases. For the Rational School of philosophers snatches from experience a variety of common instances, neither duly ascertained nor diligently examined and weighed, and leaves all the rest to meditation and agitation of wit.

There is also another class of philosophers, who having bestowed much diligent and careful labor on a few experiments, have thence made bold to educe and construct systems, wresting all other facts in a strange fashion to conformity therewith.

And there is yet a third class consisting of those who out of faith and veneration mix their philosophy with theology and traditions, among whom the vanity of some has gone so far aside as to seek the origin of sciences among spirits and genii. So that this parent stock of errors—this false philosophy—is of three kinds: the Sophistical, the Empirical, and the Superstitious.

63

The most conspicuous example of the first class was Aristotle, who corrupted natural philosophy by his logic: fashioning the world out of categories; assigning to the human soul, the noblest of substances, a genus from words of the second intention; doing the business of density and rarity (which is to make bodies of greater or lesser dimensions, that is, occupy greater or lesser spaces), by the frigid distinction of act and power; asserting that single bodies have each a single and proper motion, and that if they participate in any other, then this results from an external cause; and imposing countless other arbitrary restrictions on the nature of things; being always more solicitous to provide an answer to the question and affirm something positive in words, than about the inner truth of things; a failing best shown when his philosophy is compared with other systems of note among the Greeks. For the homoeomera of Anaxagoras, the Atoms of Leucippus and Democritus, the Heaven and Earth of Parmenides, the Strife and Friendship of Empedocles, Heraclitus’s doctrine of how bodies are resolved into the indifferent nature of fire and remolded into solids, have all of them some taste of the natural philosopher (some savor of the nature of things, and experience, and bodies), whereas in the physics of Aristotle you hear hardly anything but the words of logic, which in his metaphysics also, under a more imposing name, and more forsooth as a realist than a nominalist, he has handled over again. Nor let any weight be given to the fact that in his books on animals and his problems, and other of his treatises, there is frequent dealing with experiments. For he had come to his conclusion before. He did not consult experience as he should have done, in order to frame his decisions and axioms; but having first determined the question according to his will, he then resorts to experience, and bending her into conformity with his doctrines leads her about like a captive in a procession. So that even on this count he is more guilty than his modern followers, the schoolmen, who have abandoned experience altogether.

64

But the Empirical school of philosophy gives birth to dogmas more deformed and monstrous than the Sophistical or Rational school. For it has its foundations not in the light of common notions (which though it be a faint and superficial light, is yet in a manner universal and has reference to many things), but in the narrowness and darkness of a few experiments. To those, therefore, who are daily busied with these experiments, and have infected their imagination with them, such a philosophy seems probable and all but certain; to all other men, incredible and vain. Of this there is a notable instance in the alchemists and their dogmas, though it is hardly to be found elsewhere in these times, except perhaps in the philosophy of Gilbert. Nevertheless with regard to philosophies of this kind there is one caution not to be omitted, for I foresee that if ever men are roused by my admonitions to betake themselves seriously to experiment and bid farewell to sophistical doctrines, then indeed through the premature hurry of the understanding to leap or fly to universals and principles of things, great danger may be apprehended from philosophies of this kind, against which evil we ought even now to prepare.

65

But the corruption of philosophy by superstition and an admixture of theology is far more widely spread, and does the greatest harm, whether to entire systems or to their parts. For the human understanding is obnoxious to the influence of the imagination no less than to the influence of common notions. For the contentious and sophistical kind of philosophy ensnares the understanding, but this kind, being fanciful and tumid and half poetical, misleads it more by flattery. For there is in man an ambition of the understanding, no less than of the will, especially in high and lofty spirits.

Of this kind we have among the Greeks a striking example in Pythagoras, though he united with it a coarser and more cumbrous superstition; another in Plato and his school, more dangerous and subtle. It shows itself likewise in parts of other philosophies, in the introduction of abstract forms and final causes and first causes, with the omission in most cases of causes intermediate and the like. Upon this point the greatest caution should be used. For nothing is so mischievous as the apotheosis of error; and it is a very plague of the understanding for vanity to become the object of veneration. Yet in this vanity some of the moderns have with extreme levity indulged so far as to attempt to found a system of natural philosophy on the first chapter of Genesis, on the book of Job, and other parts of the sacred writings; seeking for the dead among the living, which also makes the inhibition and repression of it the more important because from this unwholesome mixture of things human and divine there arises not only a fantastic philosophy but also a heretical religion. Very meet it is, therefore, that we be sober minded, and give to faith that only which is faith’s.

66

So much then for the mischievous authorities of systems, which are founded either on common notions or on a few experiments, or on superstition. It remains to speak of the faulty subject matter of contemplations, especially in natural philosophy. Now the human understanding is infected by the sight of what takes place in the mechanical arts, in which the alteration of bodies proceeds chiefly by composition or separation, and so imagines that something similar goes on in the universal nature of things. From this source has flowed the fiction of elements, and of their concourse for the formation of natural bodies. Again, when man contemplates nature working freely, he meets with different species of things, of animals, of plants, of minerals, whence he readily passes into the opinion that there are in nature certain primary forms which nature intends to educe, and that the remaining variety proceeds from hindrances and aberrations of nature in the fulfillment of her work, or from the collision of different species and the transplanting of one into another.

To the first of these speculations we owe our primary qualities of the elements; to the other our occult properties and specific virtues; and both of them belong to those empty compendia of thought wherein the mind rests, and whereby it is diverted from more solid pursuits. It is to better purpose that the physicians bestow their labor on the secondary qualities of matter, and the operations of attraction, repulsion, attenuation, conspissation, dilation, astriction, dissipation, maturation, and the like [chemical processes]; and were it not that by those two compendia which I have mentioned (elementary qualities, to wit, and specific virtues) they corrupted their correct observations in these others matters—either reducing them to first qualities and their subtle and incommensurate mixtures, or not following them out with greater and more diligent observation to third and fourth qualities, but breaking off the scrutiny prematurely—they would have made much greater progress. Nor are powers of this kind (I do not say the same, but similar) to be sought for only in the medicines of the human body, but also in the changes of all other bodies.

But it is a far greater evil that they make the quiescent principles wherefrom, and not the moving principles whereby things are produced, the object of their contemplation and inquiry. For the former tend to discourse, the latter to works. Nor is there any value in those vulgar distinctions of motion which are observed in the received system of natural philosophy, as generation, corruption, augmentation, diminution, alteration, and local motion. What they mean no doubt is this: If a body, in other respects not changed, be moved from its place, this is local motion; if without change of place or essence, it be changed in quality, this is alteration; if, by reason of the change, the mass and quantity of the body do not remain the same, this is augmentation or diminution; if they be changed to such a degree that they change their very essence and substance and turn into something else, this is generation and corruption. But all this is merely popular, and does not at all go deep into nature; for these are only measures and limits, not kinds of motion. What they intimate is how far, not by what means, or from what source. For they do not suggest anything with regard either to the desires of bodies or to the development of their parts, it is only when that motion presents the thing grossly and palpably to the sense as different from what it was that they begin to mark the division. Even when they wish to suggest something with regard to the causes of motion, and to establish a division with reference to them, they introduce with the greatest negligence a distinction between motion natural and violent, a distinction which is itself drawn entirely from a vulgar notion, since all violent motion is also in fact natural, the external efficient simply setting nature working otherwise than it was before. But if, leaving all this, anyone shall observe (for instance) that there is in bodies a desire of mutual contact, so as not to suffer the unity of nature to be quite separated or broken and a vacuum thus made; or if anyone shall say that there is in bodies a desire of resuming their natural dimensions or tension, so that if compressed within or extended beyond them, they immediately strive to recover themselves, and fall back to their old volume and extent; or if anyone shall say that there is in bodies a desire of congregating towards masses of kindred nature—of dense bodies, for instance, towards the globe of the earth, of thin and rare bodies towards the compass of the sky—all these and the like are truly physical kinds of motion, but those others are entirely logical and scholastic, as is abundantly manifest from this comparison.

Nor again is it a lesser evil, that in their philosophies and contemplations their labor is spent in investigating and handling the first principles of things and the highest generalities of nature; whereas utility and the means of working result entirely from things intermediate. Hence it is that men cease not from abstracting nature till they come to potential and uninformed matter, nor on the other hand from dissecting nature till they reach the atom; things which, even if true, can do but little for the welfare of mankind.

67

A caution must also be given to the understanding against the intemperance which systems of philosophy manifest in giving or withholding assent; because intemperance of this kind seems to establish idols and in some sort to perpetuate them, leaving no way open to reach and dislodge them.

This excess is of two kinds: the first being manifest in those who are ready in deciding, and render sciences dogmatic and magisterial; the other in those who deny that we can know anything, and so introduce a wandering kind of inquiry that leads to nothing; of which kinds the former subdues, the latter weakens the understanding. For the philosophy of Aristotle, after having by hostile confutations destroyed all the rest (as the Ottomans serve their brothers), has laid down the law on all points; which done, he proceeds himself to raise new questions of his own suggestion, and dispose of them likewise; so that nothing may remain that is not certain and decided: a practice which holds and is in use among his successors.

The school of Plato, on the other hand, introduced Acatalepsia, at first in jest and irony, and in disdain of the older sophists, Protagoras, Hippias, and the rest who were of nothing else so much ashamed as of seeming to doubt about anything. But the New Academy made dogma of it, and held it as a tenet. And though theirs is a fairer seeming way than arbitrary decisions (since they say that they by no means destroy all investigation, like Pyrrho and his Refrainers, but allow of some things to be followed as probable, though of none to be maintained as true), yet still when the human mind has once despaired of finding truth, its interest in all things grows fainter. The result is that men turn aside to pleasant disputations and discourses and roam as it were from object to object, rather than keep on a course of severe inquisition. But, as I said at the beginning and am ever urging, the human senses and understanding, weak as they are, are not to be deprived of their authority, but to be supplied with helps.

68

So much concerning the several classes of idols and their equipage, all of which must be renounced and put away with a fixed and solemn determination, and the understanding thoroughly freed and cleansed. The entrance into the kingdom of man, founded on the sciences, being not much other than the entrance into the kingdom of heaven, where none may enter into except as a little child.

69

But vicious demonstrations are as the strongholds and defenses of idols, and those we have in logic do little else than make the world the bond slave of human thought and human thought the bond slave of words. Demonstrations truly are in effect the philosophies themselves and the sciences. For such as they are well or ill established, such are the systems of philosophy and the contemplations which follow. Now in the whole of the process which leads from the sense and objects to axioms and conclusions, the demonstrations which we use are deceptive and incompetent. This process consists of four parts, and has as many faults. In the first place, the impressions of the sense itself are faulty, for the sense both fails us and deceives us. But its shortcomings are to be supplied, and its deceptions to be corrected. Secondly, notions are ill drawn from the impressions of the senses, and are indefinite and confused, whereas they should be definite and distinctly bounded. Thirdly, the induction is amiss which infers the principles of sciences by simple enumeration, and does not, as it ought, employ exclusions and solutions (or separations) of nature. Lastly, that method of discovery and proof according to which the most general principles are first established and then intermediate axioms are tried and proved by them, is the parent of error and the curse of all science. Of these things, however, which now I do but touch upon, I will speak more largely, when, having performed these expiations and purgings of the mind, I come to set forth the true way for the interpretation of nature.

70

But the best demonstration by far is experience, if it go not beyond the actual experiment. For if it be transferred to other cases which are deemed similar, unless such transfer be made by a just and orderly process, it is a fallacious thing. But the manner of making experiments which men now use is blind and stupid. And, therefore, wandering and straying as they do with no settled course, and taking counsel only from things as they fall out, they fetch a wide circuit and meet with many matters, but make little progress, and sometimes are full of hope, sometimes are distracted, and always find that there is something beyond to be sought. For it generally happens that men make their trials carelessly, and as it were in play; slightly varying experiments already known, and, if the thing does not answer, growing weary and abandoning the attempt. And even if they apply themselves to experiments more seriously and earnestly and laboriously, still they spend their labor in working out some one experiment, as Gilbert with the magnet, and the chemists with gold; a course of proceeding not less unskillful in the design than small in the attempt. For no one successfully investigates the nature of a thing in the thing itself; the inquiry must be enlarged so as to become more general.

And even when they seek to educe some science or theory from their experiments, they nevertheless almost always turn aside with overhasty and unseasonable eagerness to practice; not only for the sake of the uses and fruits of the practice, but from impatience to obtain in the shape of some new work an assurance for themselves that it is worth their while to go on; and also to show themselves off to the world, and so raise the credit of the business in which they are engaged. Thus like Atalanta, they go aside to pick up the golden apple, but meanwhile they interrupt their course, and let the victory escape them. But in the true course of experience, and in carrying it on to the effecting of new works, the divine wisdom and order must be our pattern. Now God on the first day of creation created light only, giving to that work an entire day, in which no material substance was created. So must we likewise from experience of every kind first endeavor to discover true causes and axioms; and seek for experiments of Light, not for experiments of Fruit. For axioms rightly discovered and established supply practice with its instruments, not one by one, but in clusters, and draw after them trains and troops of works. Of the paths, however, of experience, which no less than the paths of judgment are impeded and beset, I will speak hereafter; here I have only mentioned ordinary experimental research as a bad kind of demonstration. But now the order of the matter in hand leads me to add something both as to those signs which I lately mentioned (signs that the systems of philosophy and contemplation in use are in a bad condition) and also as to the causes of what seems at first so strange and incredible. For a knowledge of the signs prepares assent; an explanation of the causes removes the marvel, which two things will do much to render the extirpation of idols from the understanding more easy and gentle.

71

The sciences which we possess come for the most part from the Greeks. For what has been added by Roman, Arabic, or later writers is not much nor of much importance; and whatever it is, it is built on the foundation of Greek discoveries. Now the wisdom of the Greeks was professorial and much given to disputations; a kind of wisdom most adverse to the inquisition of truth. Thus that name of Sophists, which by those who would be thought philosophers was in contempt cast back upon and so transferred to the ancient rhetoricians Gorgias, Protagoras, Hippias, Polus, does indeed suit the entire class, Plato, Aristotle, Zeno, Epicurus, Theophrastus, and their successors Chrysippus, Carneades, and the rest. There was this difference only, that the former class was wandering and mercenary, going about from town to town, putting up their wisdom for sale, and taking a price for it; while the latter was more pompous and dignified, as composed of men who had fixed abodes, and who opened schools and taught their philosophy without reward. Still both sort, though in other respects unequal, were professorial; both turned the matter into disputations, and set up and battled for philosophical sects and heresies; so that their doctrines were for the most part (as Dionysius not unaptly rallied Plato) “the talk of idle old men to ignorant youths.”

But the elder of the Greek philosophers, Empedocles, Anaxagoras, Leucippus, Democritus, Parmenides, Heraclitus, Zenophanes, Philolaus, and the rest (I omit Pythagoras as a mystic), did not, so far as we know, open schools; but more silently and severely and simply—that is, with less affectation and parade—betook themselves to the inquisition of truth. And therefore they were in my judgment more successful; only that their works were in the course of time obscured by those slighter persons who had more which suits and pleases the capacity and tastes of the vulgar: time, like a river, bringing down to us things which are light and puffed up, but letting weighty matters sink. Still even they were not altogether free from the failing of their nation, but leaned too much to the ambition and vanity of founding a sect and catching popular applause. But the inquisition of truth must be despaired of when it turns aside to trifles of this kind. Nor should we omit that judgment, or rather divination, which was given concerning the Greeks by the Egyptian priest, that “they were always boys, without antiquity of knowledge or knowledge of antiquity.” Assuredly they have that which is characteristic of boys, they are prompt to prattle, but cannot generate; for their wisdom abounds in words but is barren of works. And therefore the signs which are taken from the origin and birthplace of the received philosophy are not good.

72

Nor does the character of the time and age yield much better signs than the character of the country and nation. For at that period there was but a narrow and meager knowledge either of time or place; which is the worst thing that can be, especially for those who rest all on experience. For they had no history, worthy to be called history, that went back a thousand years; but only fables and rumors of antiquity. And of the regions and districts of the world, they knew but a small portion; giving indiscriminately the name of Scythians to all in the North, of Celts to all in the West; knowing nothing of Africa beyond the hither side of Ethiopia, of Asia beyond the Ganges; much less were they acquainted with the provinces of the New World, even by hearsay or any well-founded rumor; nay, a multitude of climates and zones, wherein innumerable nations breathe and live, were pronounced by them to be uninhabitable; and the travels of Democritus, Plato, and Pythagoras, which were rather suburban excursions than distant journeys, were talked of as something great. In our times, on the other hand, both many parts of the New World and the limits on every side of the Old World are known, and our stock of experience has increased to an infinite amount. Wherefore if (like astrologers) we draw signs from the season of their nativity or birth, nothing great can be predicted of those systems of philosophy.

73

Of all signs there is none more certain or more noble than that taken from fruits. For fruits and works are as it were sponsors and sureties for the truth of philosophies. Now, from all these systems of the Greeks, and their ramifications through particular sciences, there can hardly after the lapse of so many years be adduced a single experiment which tends to relieve and benefit the condition of man, and which can with truth be referred to the speculations and theories of philosophy. And Celsus ingenuously and wisely owns as much, when he tells us that the experimental part of medicine was first discovered, and that afterwards men philosophized about it, and hunted for and assigned causes; and not by an inverse process that philosophy and the knowledge of causes led to the discovery and development of the experimental part. And therefore it was not strange that among the Egyptians, who rewarded inventors with divine honors and sacred rites, there were more images of brutes than of men; inasmuch as brutes by their natural instinct have produced many discoveries, whereas men by discussion and the conclusions of reason have given birth to few or none.

Some little has indeed been produced by the industry of chemists; but it has been produced accidentally and in passing, or else by a kind of variation of experiments, such as mechanics use, and not by any art or theory; for the theory which they have devised rather confuses the experiments than aids them. They too who have busied themselves with natural magic, as they call it, have but few discoveries to show, and those trifling and imposture-like. Wherefore, as in religion we are warned to show our faith by works, so in philosophy by the same rule the system should be judged of by its fruits, and pronounced frivolous if it be barren; more especially if, in place of fruits of grape and olive, it bear thorns and briars of dispute and contention.

74

Signs also are to be drawn from the increase and progress of systems and sciences. For what is founded on nature grows and increases; while what is founded on opinion varies but increases not. If, therefore, those doctrines had not plainly been like a plant torn up from its roots, but had remained attached to the womb of nature and continued to draw nourishment from her, that could never have come to pass which we have seen now for twice a thousand years; namely, that the sciences stand where they did and remain almost in the same condition, receiving no noticeable increase, but on the contrary, thriving most under their first founder, and then declining. Whereas in the mechanical arts, which are founded on nature and the light of experience, we see the contrary happen, for these (as long as they are popular) are continually thriving and growing, as having in them a breath of life, at first rude, then convenient, afterwards adorned, and at all times advancing.

75

There is still another sign remaining (if sign it can be called, when it is rather testimony, nay, of all testimony the most valid); I mean the confession of the very authorities whom men now follow. For even they who lay down the law on all things so confidently, do still in their more sober moods fall to complaints of the subtlety of nature, the obscurity of things, and the weakness of the human mind. Now if this were all they did, some perhaps of a timid disposition might be deterred from further search, while others of a more ardent and hopeful spirit might be whetted and incited to go on farther. But not content to speak for themselves, whatever is beyond their own or their master’s knowledge or reach they set down as beyond the bounds of possibility, and pronounce, as if on the authority of their art, that it cannot be known or done; thus most presumptuously and invidiously turning the weakness of their own discoveries into a calumny on nature herself, and the despair of the rest of the world. Hence the school of the New Academy, which held Acatalepsia as a tenet and doomed men to perpetual darkness. Hence the opinion that Forms or true differences of things (which are in fact laws of pure act) are past finding out and beyond the reach of man. Hence too those opinions in the department of action and operation; as that the heat of the sun and of fire are quite different in kind, lest men should imagine that by the operations of fire anything like the works of nature can be educed and formed. Hence the notion that composition only is the work of man, and mixture of none but nature, lest men should expect from art some power of generating or transforming natural bodies. By this sign, therefore, men will easily take warning not to mix up their fortunes and labors with dogmas not only despaired of but dedicated to despair.

76

Neither is this other sign to be omitted: that formerly there existed among philosophers such great disagreement, and such diversities in the schools themselves, a fact which sufficiently shows that the road from the senses to the understanding was not skillfully laid out, when the same groundwork of philosophy (the nature of things to wit) was torn and split up into such vague and multifarious errors. And although in these times disagreements and diversities of opinion on first principles and entire systems are for the most part extinguished, still on parts of philosophy there remain innumerable questions and disputes, so that it plainly appears that neither in the systems themselves nor in the modes of demonstration is there anything certain or sound.

77

And as for the general opinion that in the philosophy of Aristotle, at any rate, there is great agreement, since after its publication the systems of older philosophers died away (while in the times which followed nothing better was found, so that it seems to have been so well laid and established as to have drawn both ages in its trail), I answer in the first place that the common notion of the falling off of the old systems upon the publication of Aristotle’s works is a false one. For long afterwards, down even to the times of Cicero and subsequent ages, the works of the old philosophers still remained. But in the times which followed, when on the inundation of barbarians into the Roman empire human learning had suffered shipwreck, then the systems of Aristotle and Plato, like planks of lighter and less solid material, floated on the waves of time and were preserved. Upon the point of consent, also, men are deceived, if the matter be looked into more keenly. For true consent is that which consists in the coincidence of free judgments, after due examination. But far the greater number of those who have assented to the philosophy of Aristotle have addicted themselves thereto from prejudgment and upon the authority of others, so that it is a following and going along together, rather than consent. But even if it had been a real and widespread consent, still so little ought consent to be deemed a sure and solid confirmation, that it is in fact a strong presumption the other way. For the worst of all auguries is from consent in matters intellectual (divinity excepted, and politics where there is right of vote). For nothing pleases the many unless it strikes the imagination, or binds the understanding with the bands of common notions, as I have already said. We may very well transfer therefore from moral to intellectual matters, the saying of Phocion, that if the multitude assent and applaud, men ought immediately to examine themselves as to what blunder or fault they may have committed. This sign therefore is one of the most unfavorable. And so much for this point, namely, that the signs of truth and soundness in the received systems and sciences are not good, whether they be drawn from their origin, or from their fruits or from their progress, or from the confessions of their founders, or from general consent.

78

I now come to the causes of these errors, and of so long a continuance in them through so many ages, which are very many and very potent; that all wonder how these considerations which I bring forward should have escaped men’s notice till now may cease and the only wonder be how now at last they should have entered any man’s head and become the subject of his thoughts, which truly I myself esteem as the result of some happy accident, rather than of any excellence of faculty in me—a birth of Time rather than a birth of Wit. Now, in the first place, those so many ages, if you weigh the case truly, shrink into a very small compass. For out of the five and twenty centuries over which the memory and learning of men extends, you can hardly pick out six that were fertile in sciences or favorable to their development. In times no less than in regions there are wastes and deserts. For only three revolutions and periods of learning can properly be reckoned: one among the Greeks, the second among the Romans, and the last among us, that is to say, the nations of Western Europe, and to each of these hardly two centuries can justly be assigned. The intervening ages of the world, in respect of any rich or flourishing growth of the sciences, were unprosperous. For neither the Arabians nor the Schoolmen need be mentioned, who in the intermediate times rather crushed the sciences with a multitude of treatises than increased their weight. And therefore the first cause of so meager a progress in the sciences is duly and orderly referred to the narrow limits of the time that has been favorable to them.

79

In the second place there presents itself a cause of great weight in all ways, namely, that during those very ages in which the wits and learning of men have flourished most, or indeed flourished at all, the least part of their diligence was given to natural philosophy. Yet this very philosophy it is that ought to be esteemed the great mother of the sciences. For all arts and all sciences, if torn from this root, though they may be polished and shaped and made fit for use, yet they will hardly grow. Now it is well known that after the Christian religion was received and grew strong, by far the greater number of the best wits applied themselves to theology; that to this both the highest rewards were offered, and helps of all kinds most abundantly supplied; and that this devotion to theology chiefly occupied that third portion or epoch of time among us Europeans of the West; and the more so because about the same time both literature began to flourish and religious controversies to spring up. In the age before, on the other hand, during the continuance of the second period among the Romans, the meditations and labors of philosophers were principally employed and consumed on moral philosophy, which to the heathen was as theology to us. Moreover in those times the greatest wits applied themselves very generally to public affairs, the magnitude of the Roman empire requiring the services of a great number of persons. Again, the age in which natural philosophy was seen to flourish most among the Greeks was but a brief particle of time, for in early ages the Seven Wise Men, as they were called (all except Thales), applied themselves to morals and politics; and in later times, when Socrates had drawn down philosophy from heaven to earth, moral philosophy became more fashionable than ever, and diverted the minds of men from the philosophy of nature.

Nay the very period itself in which inquiries concerning nature flourished was, by controversies and the ambitious display of new opinions, corrupted and made useless. Seeing therefore that during these three periods natural philosophy was in a great degree either neglected or hindered, it is no wonder if men made but small advance in that to which they were not attending.

80

To this it may be added that natural philosophy, even among those who have attended to it, has scarcely ever possessed, especially in these later times, a disengaged and whole man (unless it were some monk studying in his cell, or some gentleman in his country house), but that it has been made merely a passage and bridge to something else. And so this great mother of the sciences has with strange indignity been degraded to the offices of a servant, having to attend on the business of medicine or mathematics, and likewise to wash and imbue youthful and unripe wits with a sort of first dye, in order that they may be the fitter to receive another afterwards. Meanwhile let no man look for much progress in the sciences, especially in the practical part of them, unless natural philosophy be carried on and applied to particular sciences, and particular sciences be carried back again to natural philosophy. For want of this, astronomy, optics, music, a number of mechanical arts, medicine itself—nay, what one might more wonder at, moral and political philosophy and the logical sciences—altogether lack profoundness, and merely glide along the surface and variety of things because after these particular sciences have been once distributed and established, they are no more nourished by natural philosophy, which might have drawn out of the true contemplation of motions, rays, sounds, texture and configuration of bodies, affections, and intellectual perceptions, the means of imparting to them fresh strength and growth. And therefore it is nothing strange if the sciences grow not, seeing they are parted from their roots.

81

Again here is another great and powerful cause why the sciences have made but little progress, which is this: it is not possible to run a course aright when the goal itself has not been rightly placed. Now the true and lawful goal of the sciences is none other than this: that human life be endowed with new discoveries and powers. But of this the great majority have no feeling, but are merely hireling and professorial; except when it occasionally happens that some workman of more acute wit and covetous of honor applies himself to a new invention, which he mostly does at the expense of his fortunes. But in general, so far are men from proposing to themselves to augment the mass of arts and sciences, that from the mass already at hand they neither take nor look for anything more than what they may turn to use in their lectures, or to gain, or to reputation, or to some similar advantage. And if any one out of all the multitude court science with honest affection and for her own sake, yet even with him the object will be found to be rather the variety of contemplations and doctrines than the severe and rigid search after truth. And if by chance there be one who seeks after truth in earnest, yet even he will propose to himself such a kind of truth as shall yield satisfaction to the mind and understanding in rendering causes for things long since discovered, and not the truth which shall lead to new assurance of works and new light of axioms. If then the end of the sciences has not as yet been well placed, it is not strange that men have erred as to the means.

82

And as men have misplaced the end and goal of the sciences, so again, even if they had placed it right, yet they have chosen a way to it which is altogether erroneous and impassable. And an astonishing thing it is to one who rightly considers the matter that no mortal should have seriously applied himself to the opening and laying out of a road for the human understanding direct from the sense, by a course of experiment orderly conducted and well built up; but that all has been left either to the mist of tradition, or the whirl and eddy of argument, or the fluctuations and mazes of chance and of vague and ill-digested experience. Now let any man soberly and diligently consider what the way is by which men have been accustomed to proceed in the investigation and discovery of things, and in the first place he will no doubt remark a method of discovery very simple and inartificial, which is the most ordinary method, and is no more than this: When a man addresses himself to discover something, he first seeks out and sets before him all that has been said about it by others, then he begins to meditate for himself, and so by much agitation and working of the wit solicits and as it were evokes his own spirit to give him oracles, which method has no foundation at all, but rests only upon opinions and is carried about with them.

Another may perhaps call in logic to discover it for him, but that has no relation to the matter except in name. For logical invention does not discover principles and chief axioms, of which arts are composed, but only such things as appear to be consistent with them. For if you grow more curious and importunate and busy, and question her of probations and invention of principles or primary axioms, her answer is well known: she refers you to the faith you are bound to give to the principles of each separate art.

There remains simple experience, which, if taken as it comes, is called accident, if sought for, experiment. But this kind of experience is no better than a broom without its band, as the saying is—a mere groping, as of men in the dark, that feel all round them for the chance of finding their way when they had much better wait for daylight, or light a candle and then go. But the true method of experience, on the contrary, first lights the candle, and then by means of the candle shows the way, commencing as it does with experience duly ordered and digested, not bungling or erratic, and from it educing axioms and from established axioms again new experiments; even as it was not without order and method that the divine word operated on the created mass. Let men therefore cease to wonder that the course of science is not yet wholly run, seeing that they have gone altogether astray, either leaving and abandoning experience entirely, or losing their way in it and wandering round and round as in a labyrinth, whereas a method rightly ordered leads by an unbroken route through the woods of experience to the open ground of axioms.

83

This evil, however, has been strangely increased by an opinion or conceit, which though of long standing is vain and hurtful: namely, that the dignity of the human mind is impaired by long and close intercourse with experiments and particulars, subject to sense and bound in matter, especially as they are laborious to search, ignoble to meditate, harsh to deliver, illiberal to practice, infinite in number, and minute in subtlety. So that it has come at length to this, that the true way is not merely deserted, but shut out and stopped up; experience being, I do not say abandoned or badly managed, but rejected with disdain.

84

Again, men have been kept back as by a kind of enchantment from progress in the sciences by reverence for antiquity, by the authority of men accounted great in philosophy and then by general consent. Of the last I have spoken above.

As for antiquity, the opinion touching it which men entertain is quite a negligent one, and scarcely consonant with the word itself. For the old age of the world is to be accounted the true antiquity, and this is the attribute of our own times, not of that earlier age of the world in which the ancients lived and which, though in respect of us it was the elder, yet in respect of the world it was the younger. And truly as we look for greater knowledge of human things and a riper judgment in the old man than in the young, because of his experience and of the number and variety of the things which he has seen and heard and thought of, so in like manner from our age, if it but knew its own strength and chose to essay and exert it, much more might fairly be expected than from the ancient times, inasmuch as it is a more advanced age of the world and stored and stocked with infinite experiments and observations.

Nor must it go for nothing that by the distant voyages and travels which have become frequent in our times, many things in nature have been laid open and discovered which may let in new light upon philosophy. And surely it would be disgraceful if, while the regions of the material globe—that is, of the earth, of the sea, and of the stars—have been in our times laid widely open and revealed, the intellectual globe should remain shut up within the narrow limits of old discoveries.

And with regard to authority, it shows a feeble mind to grant so much to authors and yet deny time his rights, who is the author of authors, nay, rather of all authority. For rightly is truth called the daughter of time, not of authority. It is no wonder, therefore, if those enchantments of antiquity and authority and consent have so bound up men’s powers that they have been made impotent (like persons bewitched) to accompany with the nature of things.

85

Nor is it only the admiration of antiquity, authority, and consent, that has forced the industry of man to rest satisfied with the discoveries already made, but also an admiration for the works themselves of which the human race has long been in possession. For when a man looks at the variety and the beauty of the provision which the mechanical arts have brought together for men’s use, he will certainly be more inclined to admire the wealth of man than to feel his wants: not considering that the original observations and operations of nature (which are the life and moving principle of all that variety) are not many nor deeply fetched, and that the rest is but patience and the subtle and ruled motion of the hand and instruments—as the making of clocks, for instance, is certainly a subtle and exact work, their wheels seem to imitate the celestial orbs, and their alternating and orderly motion, the pulse of animals, and yet all this depends on one or two axioms of nature.

Again, if you observe the refinement of the liberal arts, or even that which relates to the mechanical preparation of natural substances, and take notice of such things as the discovery in astronomy of the motions of the heavens, of harmony in music, of the letters of the alphabet (to this day not in use among the Chinese) in grammar, or again or things mechanical, the discovery of the works of Bacchus and Ceres, that is, of the arts of preparing wine and beer, and of making bread, the discovery once more of the delicacies of the table, of distillations and the like, and if you likewise bear in mind the long periods which it has taken to bring these things to their present degree of perfection (for they are all ancient except distillation), and again (as has been said of clocks) how little they owe to observations and axioms of nature, and how easily and obviously and as it were by casual suggestion they may have been discovered, you will easily cease from wondering and on the contrary will pity the condition of mankind, seeing that in a course of so many ages there has been so great a dearth and barrenness of arts and inventions. And yet these very discoveries, which we have just mentioned, are older than philosophy and intellectual arts. So that, if the truth must be spoken, when the rational and dogmatical sciences began, the discovery of useful works came to an end.

And again, if a man turn from the workshop to the library, and wonder at the immense variety of books he sees there, let him but examine and diligently inspect their matter and contents and his wonder will assuredly be turned the other way. For after observing their endless repetitions, and how men are ever saying and doing what has been said and done before, he will pass from admiration of the variety to astonishment at the poverty and scantiness of the subjects which till now have occupied and possessed the minds of men.

And if again he descend to the consideration of those arts which are deemed curious rather than safe, and look more closely into the works of the alchemists or the magicians, he will be in doubt perhaps whether he ought rather to laugh over them or to weep. For the alchemist nurses eternal hope and, when the thing fails, lays the blame upon some error of his own, fearing either that he has not sufficiently understood the words of his art or of his authors (whereupon he turns to tradition and auricular whispers), or else that in his manipulations he has made some slip of a scruple in weight or a moment in time (whereupon he repeats his trials to infinity). And when meanwhile among the chances of experiment he lights upon some conclusions either in aspect new or for utility not contemptible, he takes these for earnest of what is to come, and feeds his mind upon them, and magnifies them to the most, and supplies the rest in hope. Not but that alchemists have made a good many discoveries, and presented men with useful inventions. But their case may be well compared to the fable of the old man who bequeathed to his sons gold buried in a vineyard, pretending not to know the exact spot, whereupon the sons applied themselves diligently to the digging of the vineyard and though no gold was found there, yet the vintage by that digging was made more plentiful.

Again, the students of natural magic, who explain everything by sympathies and antipathies, have in their idle and most slothful conjectures ascribed to substances wonderful virtues and operations. And if ever they have produced works, they have been such as aim rather at admiration and novelty than at utility and fruit.

In superstitious magic, on the other hand (if of this also we must speak), it is especially to be observed that they are but subjects of a certain and definite kind wherein the curious and superstitious arts, in all nations and ages, and religions also, have worked or played. These, therefore, we may pass. Meanwhile it is nowise strange if opinion of plenty has been the cause of want.

86

Further, this admiration of men for knowledge and arts—an admiration in itself weak enough, and well-nigh childish—has been increased by the craft and artifices of those who have handled and transmitted sciences. For they set them forth with such ambition and parade, and bring them into the view of the world so fashioned and masked, as if they were complete in all parts and finished. For if you look at the method of them and the divisions, they seem to embrace and comprise everything which can belong to the subject. And although these divisions are ill filled out and are but as empty cases, still to the common mind they present the form and plan of a perfect science. But the first and most ancient seekers after truth were wont, with better faith and better fortune too, to throw the knowledge which they gathered from the contemplation of things, and which they meant to store up for use, into aphorisms, that is, into short and scattered sentences, not linked together by an artificial method, and did not pretend or profess to embrace the entire art. But as the matter now is, it is nothing strange if men do not seek to advance in things delivered to them as long since perfect and complete.

87

Moreover the ancient systems have received no slight accession of reputation and credit from the vanity and levity of those who have propounded new ones, especially in the active and practical department of natural philosophy. For there have not been wanting talkers and dreamers who, partly from credulity, partly in imposture, have loaded mankind with promises, offering and announcing the prolongation of life, the retardation of age, the alleviation of pain, the repairing of natural defects, the deceiving of the senses; arts of binding and inciting the affections, of illuminating and exalting the intellectual faculties, of transmuting substances, of strengthening and multiplying motions at will, of making impressions and alterations in the air, of bringing down and procuring celestial influences; arts of divining things future and bringing things distant near, and revealing things secret; and many more. But with regard to these lavish promisers, this judgment would not be far amiss: that there is as much difference in philosophy between their vanities and true arts, as there is in history between the exploits of Julius Caesar or Alexander the Great and the exploits of Amadis of Gaul or Arthur of Britain. For it is true that those illustrious generals really did greater things than these shadowy heroes are even feigned to have done, but they did them by means and ways of action not fabulous or monstrous. Yet surely it is not fair that the credit of true history should be lessened because it has sometimes been injured and wronged by fables. Meanwhile it is not to be wondered at if a great prejudice is raised against new propositions, especially when works are also mentioned, because of those impostors who have attempted the like, since their excess of vanity, and the disgust it has bred, have their effect still in the destruction of all greatness of mind in enterprises of this kind.

88

Far more, however, has knowledge suffered from littleness of spirit and the smallness and slightness of the tasks which human industry has proposed to itself. And what is worst of all, this very littleness of spirit comes with a certain air of arrogance and superiority.

For in the first place there is found in all arts one general device, which has now become familiar: that the author lays the weakness of his art to the charge of nature. Whatever his art cannot attain he sets down on the authority of the same art to be in nature impossible. And truly no art can be condemned if it be judge itself. Moreover the philosophy which is now in vogue embraces and cherishes certain tenets, the purpose of which (if it be diligently examined) is to persuade men that nothing difficult, nothing by which nature may be commanded and subdued, can be expected from art or human labor; as with respect to the doctrine that the heat of the sun and of fire differ in kind, and to that other concerning mixture, has been already observed. Which things, if they be noted accurately, tend wholly to the unfair circumscription of human power, and to a deliberate and factitious despair, which not only disturbs the auguries of hope, but also cuts the sinews and spur of industry, and throws away the chances of experience itself; and all for the sake of having their art thought perfect, and for the miserable vain glory of making it believed that whatever has not yet been discovered and comprehended can never be discovered or comprehended hereafter.

And even if a man apply himself fairly to facts, and endeavor to find out something new, yet he will confine his aim and intention to the investigation and working out of some one discovery and no more; such as the nature of the magnet, the ebb and flow of the sea, the system of the heavens, and things of this kind, which seem to be in some measure secret and have hitherto been handled without much success. Whereas it is most unskillful to investigate the nature of anything in the thing itself, seeing that the same nature which appears in some things to be latent and hidden is in others manifest and palpable; wherefore in the former it produces wonder, in the latter excites no attention, as we find it in the nature of consistency, which in wood or stone is not observed, but is passed over under the appellation of solidity without further inquiry as to why separation or solution of continuity is avoided, while in the case of bubbles, which form themselves into certain pellicles, curiously shaped into hemispheres, so that the solution of continuity is avoided for a moment, it is thought a subtle matter. In fact what in some things is accounted a secret has in others a manifest and well known nature, which will never be recognized as long as the experiments and thoughts of men are engaged on the former only.

But generally speaking, in mechanics old discoveries pass for new if a man does but refine or embellish them, or unite several in one, or couple them better with their use, or make the work in greater or less volume than it was before, or the like.

Thus then it is no wonder if inventions noble and worthy of mankind have not been brought to light, when men have been contented and delighted with such trifling and puerile tasks, and have even fancied that in them they have been endeavoring after, if not accomplishing, some great matter.

89

Neither is it to be forgotten that in every age Natural Philosophy has had a troublesome and hard to deal with adversary: namely, superstition and the blind and immoderate zeal of religion. For we see among the Greeks that those who first proposed to men’s then uninitiated ears the natural causes for thunder and for storms, were thereupon found guilty of impiety. Nor was much more forbearance shown by some of the ancient fathers of the Christian church to those who on most convincing grounds (such as no one in his senses would now think of contradicting) maintained that the earth was round, and of consequence asserted the existence of the antipodes.

Moreover, as things now are, to discourse of nature is made harder and more perilous by the summaries and systems of the schoolmen, who having reduced theology into regular order as well as they were able, and fashioned it into the shape of an art, ended in incorporating the contentious and thorny philosophy of Aristotle, more than was fit, with the body of religion.

To the same result, though in a different way, tend the speculations of those who have taken upon them to deduce the truth of the Christian religion from the principles of philosophers, and to confirm it by their authority, pompously solemnizing this union of the sense and faith as a lawful marriage, and entertaining men’s minds with a pleasing variety of matter, but all the while disparaging things divine by mingling them with things human. Now in such mixtures of theology with philosophy only the received doctrines of philosophy are included, while new ones, albeit changes for the better, are all but expelled and exterminated.

Lastly, you will find that by the simpleness of certain divines, access to any philosophy, however pure, is well nigh closed. Some are weakly afraid lest a deeper search into nature should transgress the permitted limits of sober-mindedness, wrongfully wresting and transferring what is said in holy writ against those who pry into sacred mysteries, to the hidden things of nature, which are barred by no prohibition. Others with more subtlety surmise and reflect that if second causes are unknown everything can more readily be referred to the divine hand and rod, a point in which they think religion greatly concerned, which is in fact nothing else but to seek to gratify God with a lie. Others fear from past example that movements and changes in philosophy will end in assaults on religion. And others again appear apprehensive that in the investigation of nature something may be found to subvert or at least shake the authority of religion, especially with the unlearned. But these two last fears seem to me to savor utterly of carnal wisdom, as if men in the recesses and secret thoughts of their hearts doubted and distrusted the strength of religion and the empire of faith over the sense, and therefore feared that the investigation of truth in nature might be dangerous to them. But if the matter be truly considered, natural philosophy is after the word of God at once the surest medicine against superstition, and the most approved nourishment for faith, and therefore she is rightly given to religion as her most faithful handmaid, since the one displays the will of God, the other his power. For he did not err who said “Ye err in that ye know not the Scriptures and the power of God,” thus coupling and blending in an indissoluble bond information concerning his will and meditation concerning his power. Meanwhile it is not surprising if the growth of Natural Philosophy is checked when religion, the thing which has most power over men’s minds, has by the simpleness and incautious zeal of certain persons been drawn to take part against her.

90

Again, in the customs and institutions of schools, academies, colleges, and similar bodies destined for the abode of learned men and the cultivation of learning, everything is found adverse to the progress of science. For the lectures and exercises there are so ordered that to think or speculate on anything out of the common way can hardly occur to any man. And if one or two have the boldness to use any liberty of judgment, they must undertake the task all by themselves. They can have no advantage from the company of others. And if they can endure this also, they will find their industry and largeness of mind no slight hindrance to their fortune. For the studies of men in these places are confined and as it were imprisoned in the writings of certain authors, from whom if any man dissent he is straightway arraigned as a turbulent person and an innovator. But surely there is a great distinction between matters of state and the arts—for the danger from new motion and from new light is not the same. In matters of state a change even for the better is distrusted because it unsettles what is established, these things resting on authority, consent, fame and opinion, not on demonstration. But arts and sciences should be like mines, where the noise of new works and further advances is heard on every side. But though the matter be so according to right reason, it is not so acted on in practice; and the points above mentioned in the administration and government of learning put a severe restraint upon the advancement of the sciences.

91

Nay, even if that jealousy were to cease, still it is enough to check the growth of science that efforts and labors in this field go unrewarded. For it does not rest with the same persons to cultivate sciences and to reward them. The growth of them comes from great wits, the prizes and rewards of them are in the hands of the people, or of great persons, who are but in very few cases even moderately learned. Moreover, this kind of progress is not only unrewarded with prizes and substantial benefits, it has not even the advantage of popular applause. For it is a greater matter than the generality of men can take in, and is apt to be overwhelmed and extinguished by the gales of popular opinions. And it is nothing strange if a thing not held in honor does not prosper.

92

But by far the greatest obstacle to the progress of science and to the undertaking of new tasks and provinces therein is found in this: that men despair and think things impossible. For wise and serious men are wont in these matter to be altogether distrustful, considering with themselves the obscurity of nature, the shortness of life, the deceitfulness of the senses, the weakness of the judgment, the difficulty of experiment and the like. And so supposing that in the revolution of time and the ages of the world the sciences have their ebbs and flows, that at one season they grow and flourish, at another wither and decay, yet in such sort that when they have reached a certain point and condition they can advance no further. If therefore any one believes or promises more, they think this comes of an ungoverned and unripened mind, and that such attempts have prosperous beginnings, become difficult as they go on, and end in confusion. Now since these are thoughts which naturally present themselves to grave men and of great judgment, we must take good heed that we be not led away by our love for a most fair and excellent object to relax or diminish the severity of our judgment. We must observe diligently what encouragement dawns upon us and from what quarter, and, putting aside the lighter breezes of hope, we must thoroughly sift and examine those which promise greater steadiness and constancy. Nay, and we must take state prudence too into our counsels, whose rule is to distrust, and to take the less favorable view of human affairs. I am now therefore to speak touching hope—especially as I am not a dealer in promises, and wish neither to force nor to ensnare men’s judgments, but to lead them by the hand with their good will. And though the strongest means of inspiring hope will be to bring men to particulars, especially to particulars digested and arranged in my Tables of Discovery (the subject partly of the second, but much more of the fourth part of my Instauration) since this is not merely the promise of the thing but the thing itself. Nevertheless that everything may be done with gentleness, I will proceed with my plan of preparing men’s minds, of which preparation to give hope is no unimportant part. For without it the rest tends rather to make men sad (by giving them a worse and a meaner opinion of things as they are than they now have, and making them more fully to feel and know the unhappiness of their own condition) than to induce any alacrity or to whet their industry in making trial. And therefore it is fit that I publish and set forth those conjectures of mine which make hope in this matter reasonable, just as Columbus did before that wonderful voyage of his across the Atlantic when he gave the reasons for his conviction that new lands and continents might be discovered beside those which were known before, which reasons, though rejected at first, were afterwards made good by experience and were the causes and beginnings of great events.

93

The beginning is from God; for the business which is in hand, having the character of good so strongly impressed upon it, appears manifestly to proceed from God who is the author of good and the Father of Lights. Now in divine operations even the smallest beginnings lead of a certainty to their end. And as it was said of spiritual things, “The kingdom of God cometh not with observation,” so is it in all the greater works of Divine Providence. Everything glides on smoothly and noiselessly, and the work is fairly going on before men are aware that it has begun. Nor should the prophecy of Daniel be forgotten, touching the last ages of the world: “Many shall go to and fro, and knowledge shall be increased,” clearly intimating that the thorough passage of the world (which now by so many distant voyages seems to be accomplished, or in course of accomplishment) and the advancement of the sciences, are destined by fate, that is, by Divine Providence, to meet in the same age.

94

Next comes a consideration of the greatest importance as an argument of hope: I mean that drawn from the errors of past time, and of the ways hitherto trodden. For most excellent was the censure once passed upon a government that had been unwisely administered: “That which is the worst thing in reference to the past, ought to be regarded as best for the future. For if you had done all that your duty demanded, and yet your affairs were no better, you would not have even a hope left you that further improvement is possible. But now, when your misfortunes are owing, not to the force of circumstances, but to your own errors, you may hope that by dismissing or correcting these errors, a great change may be made for the better.” In like manner, if during so long a course of years men had kept the true road for discovering and cultivating sciences, and had yet been unable to make further progress therein, bold doubtless and rash would be the opinion that further progress is possible. But if the road itself has been mistaken, and men’s labor spent on unfit objects, it follows that the difficulty has its rise not in things themselves, which are not in our power, but in the human understanding, and the use and application thereof, which admits of remedy and medicine. It will be of great use, therefore, to set forth what these errors are. For as many impediments as there have been in times past from this cause, so many arguments are there of hope for the time to come. And although they have been partly touched before, I think fit here also, in plain and simple words, to represent them.

95

Those who have handled sciences have been either men of experiment or men of dogmas. The men of experiment are like the ant; they only collect and use. The reasoners resemble spiders who make cobwebs out of their own substance. But the bee takes a middle course. It gathers its material from the flowers of the garden and of the field, but transforms and digests it by a power of its own. Not unlike this is the true business of philosophy; for it neither relies solely or chiefly on the powers of the mind, nor does it take the matter which it gathers from natural history and mechanical experiments and lay it up in the memory whole as it finds it, but lays it up in the understanding altered and digested. Therefore from a closer and purer league between these two faculties, the experimental and the rational (such as has never yet been made), much may be hoped for.

96

We have as yet no natural philosophy that is pure. All is tainted and corrupted; in Aristotle’s school by logic; in Plato’s by natural theology; in the second school of Platonists, such as Proclus and others, by mathematics, which ought only to give definiteness to natural philosophy, not to generate or give it birth. From a natural philosophy pure and unmixed, better things are to be expected.

97

No one has yet been found so firm of mind and purpose as resolutely to compel himself to sweep away all theories and common notions, and to apply the understanding, thus made fair and even, to a fresh examination of particulars. Thus it happens that human knowledge, as we have it, is a mere medley and ill-digested mass made up of much credulity and much accident and also of the childish notions which we at first imbibed.

Now if any one of ripe age, unimpaired senses, and well-purged mind, apply himself anew to experience and particulars, better hopes may be entertained of that man. In which point I promise to myself a like fortune to that of Alexander the Great. And let no man tax me with vanity till he have heard the end. For the thing which I mean tends to the putting off of all vanity. For of Alexander and his deeds Aeschines spoke thus: “Assuredly we do not live the life of mortal men; but to this end were we born, that in after ages wonders might be told of us,” as if what Alexander had done seemed to him miraculous. But in the next age Titus Livius took a better and a deeper view of the matter, saying in effect, that Alexander “had done no more than take courage to despise vain apprehensions.” And a like judgment I suppose may be passed on myself in future ages: that I did no great things, but simply made less account of things that were accounted great. In the meanwhile, as I have already said, there is no hope except in a new birth of science, that is, in raising it regularly up from experience and guiding it afresh, which no one (I think) will say has yet been done or thought of.

98

Now for grounds of experience—since to experience we must come—we have yet had either none or very weak ones. No search has been made to collect a store of particular observations sufficient either in number, or in kind, or in certainty, to inform the understanding, or in any way adequate. On the contrary, men of learning, but easy withal and idle, have taken for the construction or for the confirmation of their philosophy certain rumors and vague fames or airs of experience, and allowed to these the weight of lawful evidence. And just as if some kingdom or state were to direct its counsels and affairs, not by letters and reports from ambassadors and trustworthy messengers, but by the gossip of the streets, such exactly is the system of management introduced into philosophy with relation to experience. Nothing duly investigated, nothing verified, nothing counted, weighed or measured is to be found in natural history. And what in observation is loose and vague, is in information deceptive and treacherous. And if any one thinks that this is a strange thing to say, and something like an unjust complaint (seeing that Aristotle, himself a great man, and supported by the wealth of so great a king, has composed so accurate a history of animals, and that others with greater diligence, though less pretense, have made many additions, while others, again, have compiled copious histories and descriptions of metals, plants, and fossils), it seems that he does not rightly apprehend what it is that we are now about. For a natural history which is composed for its own sake is not like one that is collected to supply the understanding with information for the building up of philosophy. They differ in many ways, but especially in this: that the former contains the variety of natural species only, and not experiments of the mechanical arts. For even as in the business of life, a man’s disposition and the secret workings of his mind and affections are better discovered when he is in trouble than at other times, so likewise the secrets of nature reveal themselves more readily under the vexations of art than when they go their own way. Good hopes may therefore be conceived of natural philosophy when natural history, which is the basis and foundation of it, has been drawn up on a better plan—but not till then.

99

Again, even in the great plenty of mechanical experiments, there is yet a great scarcity of those which are of most use for the information of the understanding. For the mechanic, not troubling himself with the investigation of truth, confines his attention to those things which bear upon his particular work, and will not either raise his mind or stretch out his hand for anything else. But then only will there be good ground of hope for the further advance of knowledge, when there shall be received and gathered together into natural history a variety of experiments, which are of no use in themselves, but simply serve to discover causes and axioms, which I call Experimenta lucifera, experiments of light, to distinguish them from those which I call fructifera, experiments of fruit.

Now experiments of this kind have one admirable property and condition—they never miss or fail. For since they are applied, not for the purpose of producing any particular effect, but only of discovering the natural cause of some effect, they answer the end equally well whichever way they turn out, for they settle the question.

100

But not only is a greater abundance of experiments to be sought for and procured, and that too of a different kind from those hitherto tried; an entirely different method, order, and process for carrying on and advancing experience must also be introduced. For experience, when it wanders in its own track is, as I have already remarked, mere groping in the dark and confounds men rather than instructs them. But when it shall proceed in accordance with a fixed law, in regular order, and without interruption, then may better things be hoped of knowledge.

101

But even after such a store of natural history and experience, as is required for the work of the understanding or of philosophy, shall be ready at hand, still the understanding is by no means competent to deal with it off hand and by memory alone, no more than if a man should hope by force of memory to retain and make himself master of the computation of an ephemeris. And yet hitherto more has been done in matter of invention by thinking than by writing, and experience has not yet learned her letters. Now no course of invention can be satisfactory unless it be carried on in writing. But when this is brought into use, and experience has been taught to read and write, better things may be hoped.

102

Moreover, since there is so great a number and army of particulars, and that army so scattered and dispersed as to distract and confound the understanding, little is to be hoped for from the skirmishings and slight attacks and desultory movements of the intellect, unless all the particulars which pertain to the subject of inquiry shall, by means of Tables of Discovery (apt, well arranged, and as it were animate) be drawn up and marshaled and the mind be set to work upon the helps duly prepared and digested, which these tables supply.

103

But after this store of particulars has been set out duly and in order before our eyes, we are not to pass at once to the investigation and discovery of new particulars or works, or at any rate if we do so we must not stop there. For although I do not deny that when all the experiments of all the arts shall have been collected and digested, and brought within one man’s knowledge and judgment, the mere transferring of the experiments of one art to others may lead, by means of that experience which I term literate, to the discovery of many new things of service to the life and state of man, yet it is no great matter that can be hoped from that. But from the new light of axioms, which having been educed from those particulars by a certain method and rule, shall in their turn point out the way again to new particulars, greater things may be looked for. For our road does not lie on a level, but ascends and descends—first ascending to axioms, then descending to works.

104

The understanding must not however be allowed to jump and fly from particulars to remote axioms and of almost the highest generality (such as the first principles, as they are called, of arts and things), and taking stand upon them as truths that cannot be shaken, proceed to prove and frame the middle axioms by reference to them (which has been the practice hitherto), the understanding being not only carried that way by a natural impulse, but also by the use of syllogistic demonstration trained and inured to it. But then, and then only, may we hope well of the sciences when in a just scale we rise from particulars to lesser axioms, and then to middle axioms one above the other, and last of all to the most general. For the lowest axioms differ but slightly from bare experience, while the highest and most general (which we now have) are notional and abstract and without solidity. But the middle are the true and solid and living axioms, on which depend the affairs and fortunes of men, and above them again, last of all, those which are indeed the most general, such I mean as are not abstract, but of which those intermediate axioms are really limitations.

The understanding must not therefore be supplied with wings, but rather hung with weights, to keep it from leaping and flying. Now this has never yet been done, when it is done, we may entertain better hopes of the sciences.

105

In establishing axioms, another form of induction must be devised than has hitherto been employed, and it must be used for proving and discovering not first principles (as they are called) only, but also the lesser axioms, and the middle, and indeed all. For the induction which proceeds by simple enumeration is childish; its conclusions are precarious and exposed to peril from a contradictory instance; and it generally decides on too small a number of facts, and on those only which are at hand. But the induction which is to be available for the discovery and demonstration of sciences and arts must analyze nature by proper rejections and exclusions, and then, after a sufficient number of negatives, come to a conclusion on the affirmative instances; which has not yet been done or even attempted, save only by Plato, who does indeed employ this form of induction to a certain extent for the purpose of discussing definitions and ideas. But in order to furnish this induction or demonstration well and duly for its work, very many things are to be provided which no mortal has yet thought of, insomuch that greater labor will have to be spent in it than has hitherto been spent on the syllogism. And this induction must be used not only to discover axioms, but also in the formation of notions. And it is in this induction that our chief hope lies.

106

But in establishing axioms by this kind of induction, we must also examine and try whether the axiom so established be framed to the measure of those particulars only from which it is derived, or whether it be larger and wider. And if it be larger and wider, we must observe whether by indicating to us new particulars it confirms that wideness and largeness as by a collateral security, that we may not either stick fast in things already known or loosely grasp at shadows and abstract forms, not at things solid and realized in matter. And when this process shall have come into use, then at last shall we see the dawn of a solid hope.

107

And here also should be remembered what was said above concerning the extending of the range of natural philosophy to take in the particular sciences, and the referring or bringing back of the particular sciences to natural philosophy, that the branches of knowledge may not be severed and cut off from the stem. For without this the hope of progress will not be so good.

108

So much then for the removing of despair and the raising of hope through the dismissal or rectification of the errors of past time. We must now see what else there is to ground hope upon. And this consideration occurs at once—that if many useful discoveries have been made by accident or upon occasion when men were not seeking for them but were busy about other things, no one can doubt but that when they apply themselves to seek and make this their business, and that too by method and in order and not by desultory impulses, they will discover far more. For although it may happen once or twice that a man shall stumble on a thing by accident, which when taking great pains to search for it he could not find, yet upon the whole it unquestionably falls out the other way. And therefore far better things and more of them and at shorter intervals are to be expected from man’s reason and industry and direction and fixed application than from accident and animal instinct and the like, in which inventions have hitherto had their origin.

109

Another argument of hope may be drawn from this: that some of the inventions already known are such that before they were discovered it could hardly have entered any man’s head to think of, they would have been simply set aside as impossible. For in conjecturing what may be, men set before them the example of what has been, and divine of the new with an imagination preoccupied and colored by the old, which way of forming opinions is very fallacious. For streams that are drawn from the springheads of nature do not always run in the old channels.

If, for instance, before the invention of ordnance, a man had described the thing by its effects, and said that there was a new invention, by means of which the strongest towers and walls could be shaken and thrown down at a great distance, men would doubtless have begun to think over all the ways of multiplying the force of catapults and mechanical engines by weights and wheels and such machinery for ramming and projecting. But the notion of a fiery blast suddenly and violently expanding and exploding would hardly have entered into any man’s imagination or fancy, being a thing to which nothing immediately analogous had been seen, except perhaps in an earthquake or in lightning, which, as magnalia or marvels of nature not imitable by man, would have been immediately rejected.

In the same way, if, before the discovery of silk, any one had said that there was a kind of thread discovered for the purposes of dress and furniture, which far surpassed the thread of linen or of wool in fineness and at the same time in strength, and also in beauty and softness, men would have begun immediately to think of some silky kind of vegetable, or of the finer hair of some animal, or of the feathers and down of birds. But of a web woven by a tiny worm, and that in such abundance and renewing itself yearly, they would assuredly never have thought. Nay, if any one had said anything about a worm, he would no doubt have been laughed at as dreaming of a new kind of cobwebs.

So again, if, before the discovery of the magnet, any one had said that a certain instrument had been invented by means of which the quarters and points of the heavens could be taken and distinguished with exactness, men would have been carried by their imagination to a variety of conjectures concerning the more exquisite construction of astronomical instruments. But that anything could be discovered agreeing so well in its movements with the heavenly bodies, and yet not a heavenly body itself, but simply a substance of metal or stone, would have been judged altogether incredible. Yet these things and others like them lay for so many ages of the world concealed from men. Nor was it by philosophy or the rational arts that they were found out at last, but by accident and occasion, being indeed, as I said, altogether different in kind and as remote as possible from anything that was known before, so that no preconceived notion could possibly have led to the discovery of them.

There is, therefore, much ground for hoping that there are still laid up in the womb of nature many secrets of excellent use, having no affinity or parallelism with any thing that is now known, but lying entirely out of the beat of the imagination, which have not yet been found out. They too no doubt will some time or other, in the course and revolution of many ages, come to light of themselves, just as the others did. Only by the method of which we are now treating can they be speedily and suddenly and simultaneously presented and anticipated.

110

But we have also discoveries to show of another kind, which prove that noble inventions may be lying at our very feet, and yet mankind may step over without seeing them. For however the discovery of gunpowder, of silk, of the magnet, of sugar, of paper, or the like, may seem to depend on certain properties of things themselves and nature, there is at any rate nothing in the art of printing which is not plain and obvious. Nevertheless for want of observing that although it is more difficult to arrange types of letters than to write letters by the motion of the hand, there is yet this difference between the two, that types once arranged serve for innumerable impressions, but letters written with the hand for a single copy only; or perhaps again for want of observing that ink can be so thickened as to color without running (particularly when the letters face upwards and the impression is made from above), for want, I say, of observing these things, men went for so many ages without this most beautiful discovery, which is of so much service in the propagation of knowledge.

But such is the infelicity and unhappy disposition of the human mind in this course of invention that it first distrusts and then despises itself. First will not believe that any such thing can be found out, and when it is found out, cannot understand how the world should have missed it so long. And this very thing may be justly taken as an argument of hope, namely, that there is a great mass of inventions still remaining, which not only by means of operations that are yet to be discovered, but also through the transferring, comparing, and applying of those already known, by the help of that Learned Experience of which I spoke, may be deduced and brought to light.

111

There is another ground of hope that must not be omitted. Let men but think over the infinite expenditure of understanding, time, and means on matters and pursuits of far less use and value, whereof, if but a small part were directed to sound and solid studies, there is no difficulty that might not be overcome. This I thought good to add, because I plainly confess that a collection of history natural and experimental, such as I conceive it and as it ought to be, is a great, I may say a royal work, and of much labor and expense.

112

Meantime, let no man be alarmed at the multitude of particulars, but let this rather encourage him to hope. For the particular phenomena of art and nature are but a handful to the inventions of the wit, when disjoined and separated from the evidence of things. Moreover this road has an issue in the open ground and not far off. The other has no issue at all, but endless entanglement. For men hitherto have made short stay with experience, but passing her lightly by, have wasted an infinity of time on meditations and glosses of the wit. But if someone were by that able to answer our questions and tell us in each case what the fact in nature is, the discovery of all causes and sciences would be but the work of a few years.

113

Moreover, I think that men may take some hope from my own example. And this I say not by way of boasting, but because it is useful to say it. If there be any that despond, let them look at me, that, being of all men of my time the most busied in affairs of state, and a man of health not very strong (whereby much time is lost), and in this course altogether a pioneer, following in no man’s track, not sharing these counsels with any one, have nevertheless by resolutely entering on the true road, and submitting my mind to things, advanced these matters, as I suppose, some little way. And then let them consider what may be expected (after the way has been thus indicated) from men abounding in leisure, and from association of labors, and from successions of ages; the rather because it is not a way over which only one man can pass at a time (as is the case with that of reasoning), but one in which the labors and industries of men (especially as regards the collecting of experience) may with the best effect be first distributed and then combined. For then only will men begin to know their strength, when instead of great numbers doing all the same things, one shall take charge of one thing and another of another.

114

Lastly, even if the breath of hope which blows on us from the new continent were fainter than it is and harder to perceive, yet the trial (if we would not bear a spirit altogether abject) must by all means be made. For there is no comparison between that which we may lose by not trying and by not succeeding, since by not trying we throw away the chance of an immense good, by not succeeding we only incur the loss of a little human labor. But as it is, it appears to me from what has been said, and also from what has been left unsaid, that there is hope enough to spare, not only to make a bold man try, but also to make a sober minded and wise man believe.

115

Concerning the grounds then for putting away despair, which has been one of the most powerful causes of delay and hindrance to the progress of knowledge, I have now spoken. And this also concludes what I had to say touching the signs and causes of the errors, sluggishness, and ignorance which have prevailed, especially since the more subtle causes, which do not fall under popular judgment and observation, must be referred to what has been said on the Idols of the human mind.

And here likewise should close that part of my Instauration which is devoted to pulling down, which part is performed by three refutations: first, by the refutation of the natural human reason left to itself, secondly, by the refutation of the demonstrations, and thirdly, by the refutations of the theories, or the received systems of philosophy and doctrine. And the refutation of these has been such, as alone it could be, that is to say, by signs and evidence of causes, since no other kind of confutation was open to me, differing as I do from others both on first principles and on rules of demonstration.

It is time therefore to proceed to the art itself and rule of interpreting nature, still however, there remains something to be premised. For whereas in this first book of aphorisms I proposed to prepare men’s minds as well for understanding as for receiving what is to follow, now that I have purged and swept and leveled the floor of the mind, it remains that I place the mind in a good position and as it were in a favorable aspect towards what I have to lay before it. For in a new matter, it is not only the strong preoccupation of some old opinion that tends to create a prejudice, but also a false preconception or prefiguration of the new thing which is presented. I will endeavor therefore to impart sound and true opinions as to the things I propose, although they are to serve only for the time, and by way of interest (so to speak) till the thing itself, which is the principal, be fully known.

116

First, then, I must request men not to suppose that after the fashion of ancient Greeks, and of certain moderns, as Telesius, Patricius, Severinus, I wish to found a new sect in philosophy. For this is not what I am about, nor do I think that it matters much to the fortunes of men what abstract notions one may entertain concerning nature and the principles of things. And no doubt many old theories of this kind can be revived and many new ones introduced, just as many theories of the heavens may be supposed which agree well enough with the phenomena and yet differ with each other.

But for my part I do not trouble myself with any such speculative and withal unprofitable matters. My purpose, on the contrary, is to try whether I cannot in very fact lay more firmly the foundations, and extend more widely the limits, of the power and greatness of man. And although on some special subjects, and in an incomplete form, I am in possession of results which I take to be far more true and more certain and withal more fruitful than those now received (and these I have collected into the fifth part of my Instauration), yet I have no entire or universal theory to propound. For it does not seem that the time is come for such an attempt. Neither can I hope to live to complete the sixth part of the Instauration (which is destined for the philosophy discovered by the legitimate interpretation of nature), but hold it enough if in the intermediate business I bear myself soberly and profitably, sowing in the meantime for future ages the seeds of a purer truth, and performing my part towards the commencement of the great undertaking.

117

And as I do not seek to found a school, so neither do I hold out offers or promises of particular works. It may be thought, indeed, that I who make such frequent mention of works and refer everything to that end, should produce some myself by way of earnest. But my course and method, as I have often clearly stated and would wish to state again, is this: not to extract works from works or experiments from experiments (as an empiric), but from works and experiments to extract causes and axioms, and again from those causes and axioms new works and experiments, as a legitimate interpreter of nature. And although in my tables of discovery (which compose the fourth part of the Instauration), and also in the examples of particulars (which I have adduced in the second part), and moreover in my observations on the history (which I have drawn out in the third part), any reader of even moderate sagacity and intelligence will everywhere observe indications and outlines of many noble works. Still I candidly confess that the natural history which I now have, whether collected from books or from my own investigations, is neither sufficiently copious nor verified with sufficient accuracy to serve the purposes of legitimate interpretation.

Accordingly, if there be anyone more apt and better prepared for mechanical pursuits, and sagacious in hunting out works by the mere dealing with experiment, let him by all means use his industry to gather from my history and tables many things by the way, and apply them to the production of works, which may serve as interest until the principal be forthcoming. But for myself, aiming as I do at greater things, I condemn all unseasonable and premature tarrying over such things as these, being (as I often say) like Atalanta’s balls. For I do not run off like a child after golden apples, but stake all on the victory of art over nature in the race. Nor do I make haste to mow down the moss or the corn in blade, but wait for the harvest in its due season.

118

There will be found, no doubt, when my history and tables of discovery are read, some things in the experiments themselves that are not quite certain, or perhaps that are quite false, which may make a man think that the foundations and principles upon which my discoveries rest are false and doubtful. But this is of no consequence, for such things must happen at first. It is only like the occurrence in a written or printed page of a letter or two mistaken or misplaced, which does not hinder much the reader because such errors are easily corrected by the sense. So likewise may there occur in my natural history many experiments which are mistaken and falsely set down, and yet they will presently, by the discovery of causes and axioms, be easily expunged and rejected. It is nevertheless true that if the mistakes in natural history and experiments are important, frequent, and continual, they cannot possibly be corrected or amended by any felicity of wit or art. And therefore, if in my natural history, which has been collected and tested with so much diligence, severity, and I may say religious care, there still lurk at intervals certain falsities or errors in the particulars, what is to be said of common natural history, which in comparison with mine is so negligent and inexact? And what of the philosophy and sciences built on such a sand (or rather quicksand)? Let no man therefore trouble himself for this.

119

There will be met with also in my history and experiments many things which are trivial and commonly known; many which are mean and low; many, lastly, which are too subtle and merely speculative, and that seem to be of no use; which kind of things may possibly avert and alienate men’s interest.

And first for those things which seem common. Let men bear in mind that hitherto they have been accustomed to do no more than refer and adapt the causes of things which rarely happen to such as happen frequently, while of those which happen frequently, they never ask the cause, but take them as they are for granted. And therefore they do not investigate the causes of weight, of the rotation of heavenly bodies, of heat, cold, light, hardness, softness, rarity, density, liquidity, solidity, animation, inanimation, similarity, dissimilarity, organization, and the like. But admitting these things as self evident and obvious, they dispute and decide on other things of less frequent and familiar occurrence.

But I, who am well aware that no judgment can be passed on uncommon or unremarkable things, much less anything new brought to light, unless the causes of common things, and the causes of those causes, be first duly examined and found out, am of necessity compelled to admit the commonest things into my history. Nay, in my judgment philosophy has been hindered by nothing more than this, that things of familiar and frequent occurrence do not arrest and detain the thoughts of men, but are received in passing without any inquiry into their causes, insomuch that information concerning things which are not known is no oftener wanted than attention concerning things which are.

120

And for things that are mean or even filthy—things which (as Pliny says) must be introduced with an apology—such things, no less than the most splendid and costly, must be admitted into natural history. Nor is natural history polluted thereby. For the sun enters the sewer no less than the palace, yet takes no pollution. And for myself, I am not raising a capitol or pyramid to the pride of man, but laying a foundation in the human understanding for a holy temple after the model of the world. That model therefore I follow. For whatever deserves to exist deserves also to be known, for knowledge is the image of existence, and things mean and splendid exist alike. Moreover as from certain putrid substances—musk, for instance, and civet—the sweetest odors are sometimes generated, so too from mean and sordid instances there sometimes emanates excellent light and information. But enough and more than enough of this, such fastidiousness being merely childish and effeminate.

121

But there is another objection which must be more carefully looked to: namely, that there are many things in this history which to common apprehension, or indeed to any understanding accustomed to the present system, will seem to be curiously and unprofitably subtle. Upon this point, therefore, above all I must say again what I have said already—that at first and for a time I am seeking for experiments of light, not for experiments of fruit, following therein, as I have often said, the example of the divine creation, which on the first day produced light only, and assigned to it alone one entire day, nor mixed up with it on that day any material work.

To suppose therefore that things like these are of no use is the same as to suppose that light is of no use, because it is not a thing solid and material. And the truth is that the knowledge of simple natures well examined and defined is as light. It gives entrance to all the secrets of nature’s workshop, and virtually includes and draws after it whole bands and troops of works, and opens to us the sources of the noblest axioms and yet in itself it is of no great use. So also the letters of the alphabet in themselves and apart have no use or meaning, yet they are the subject matter for the composition and apparatus of all discourse. So again the seeds of things are of much latent virtue, and yet of no use except in their development. And the scattered rays of light itself, until they are made to converge, can impart none of their benefit.

But if objection be taken to speculative subtleties, what is to be said of the schoolmen, who have indulged in subtleties to such excess? In subtleties too that were spent on words, or at any rate on popular notions (which is much the same thing), not on facts or nature, and such as were useless not only in their origin but also in their consequences, and not like those I speak of, useless indeed for the present, but promising infinite utility hereafter. But let men be assured of this, that all subtlety of disputation and discourse, if not applied till after axioms are discovered, is out of season and preposterous. And that the true and proper or at any rate the chief time for subtlety is in weighing experience and in founding axioms thereon. For that other subtlety, though it grasps and snatches at nature, yet can never take hold of her. Certainly what is said of opportunity or fortune is most true of nature. She has a lock in front, but is bald behind.

Lastly, concerning the disdain to receive into natural history things either common, or mean, or over subtle and in their original condition useless, the answer of the poor woman to the haughty prince, who had rejected her petition as an unworthy thing and beneath his dignity, may be taken for an oracle—“Then leave off being king.” For most certain it is that he who will not attend to things like these as being too paltry and minute, can neither win the kingdom of nature nor govern it.

122

It may be thought also a strange and a harsh thing that we should at once and with one blow set aside all sciences and all authors, and that too without calling in any of the ancients to our aid and support, but relying on our own strength.

And I know that if I had chosen to deal less sincerely, I might easily have found authority for my suggestions by referring them either to the old times before the Greeks (when natural science was perhaps most flourishing, though it made less noise, not having yet passed into the pipes and trumpets of the Greeks), or even, in part at least, to some of the Greeks themselves, and so gained for them both support and honor; as men of no family devise for themselves by the good help of genealogies the nobility of a descent from some ancient stock. But for my part, relying on the evidence and truth of things, I reject all forms of fiction and imposture. Nor do I think that it matters any more to the business in hand, whether the discoveries that shall now be made were long ago known to the ancients, and have their settings and their risings according to the vicissitude of things and course of ages, than it matters to mankind whether the new world be that island of Atlantis with which the ancients were acquainted, or now discovered for the first time. For new discoveries must be sought from the light of nature, not fetched back out of the darkness of antiquity.

And as for the universality of the censure, certainly if the matter be truly considered, such a censure is not only more probable but more modest too, than a partial one would be. For if the errors had not been rooted in primary notions, there must have been some true discoveries to correct the false. But the errors being fundamental, and not so much of false judgment as of inattention and oversight, it is no wonder that men have not obtained what they have not tried for, nor reached a mark which they never set up, nor finished a course which they never entered on or kept.

And as for the presumption implied in it, certainly if a man undertakes by steadiness of hand and power of eye to describe a straighter line or more perfect circle than any one else, he challenges a comparison of abilities. But if he only says that he with the help of a rule or a pair of compasses can draw a straighter line or a more perfect circle than any one else can by eye and hand alone, he makes no great boast. And this remark, be it observed, applies not merely to this first and inceptive attempt of mine, but to all that shall take the work in hand hereafter. For my way of discovering sciences goes far to level men’s wits, and leaves but little to individual excellence, because it performs everything by the surest rules and demonstrations. And therefore I attribute my part in all this, as I have often said, rather to good luck than to ability, and account it a birth of time rather than of wit. For certainly chance has something to do with men’s thoughts as well as with their works and deeds.

123

I may say then of myself that which one said in jest (since it marks the distinction so truly): “It cannot be that we should think alike, when one drinks water and the other drinks wine.” Now other men, as well in ancient as in modern times, have in the matter of sciences drunk a crude liquor like water, either flowing spontaneously from the understanding, or drawn up by logic, as by wheels from a well. Whereas I pledge mankind in a liquor strained from countless grapes—from grapes ripe and fully seasoned, collected in clusters, and gathered, and then squeezed in the press, and finally purified and clarified in the vat. And therefore it is no wonder if they and I do not think alike.

124

Again, it will be thought, no doubt, that the goal and mark of knowledge which I myself set up (the very point which I object to in others) is not the true or the best. For that the contemplation of truth is a thing worthier and loftier than all utility and magnitude of works, and that this long and anxious dwelling with experience and matter and the fluctuations of individual things drags down the mind to earth, or rather sinks it to a very Tartarus of turmoil and confusion, removing and withdrawing it from the serene tranquillity of abstract wisdom, a condition far more heavenly. Now to this I readily assent; and indeed this which they point at as so much to be preferred, is the very thing of all others which I am about. For I am building in the human understanding a true model of the world, such as it is in fact, not such as a man’s own reason would have it to be. A thing which cannot be done without a very diligent dissection and anatomy of the world. But I say that those foolish and apish images of worlds which the fancies of men have created in philosophical systems, must be utterly scattered to the winds. Be it known then how vast a difference there is (as I said above) between the Idols of the human mind and the Ideas of the divine. The former are nothing more than arbitrary abstractions. The latter are the Creator’s own stamp upon creation, impressed and defined in matter by true and exquisite lines. Truth, therefore, and utility are here the very same things. And works themselves are of greater value as pledges of truth than as contributing to the comforts of life.

125

It may be thought again that I am but doing what has been done before; that the ancients themselves took the same course which I am now taking; and that it is likely therefore that I too, after all this stir and striving, shall come at last to some one of those systems which prevailed in ancient times. For the ancients too, it will be said, provided at the outset of their speculations a great store and abundance of examples and particulars, digested the same into notebooks under heads and titles, from them completed their systems and arts, and afterwards, when they understood the matter, published them to the world—adding a few examples here and there for proof and illustration, but thought it superfluous and inconvenient to publish their notes and minutes and digests of particulars and therefore did as builders do, after the house was built they removed the scaffolding and ladders out of sight. And so no doubt they did. But this objection (or scruple rather) will be easily answered by any one who has not quite forgotten what I have said above. For the form of inquiry and discovery that was in use among the ancients is by themselves professed, and appears on the very face of their writings. And that form was simply this: From a few examples and particulars (with the addition of common notions and perhaps of some portion of the received opinions which have been most popular) they flew at once to the most general conclusions or first principles of science. Taking the truth of these as fixed and immovable, they proceeded by means of intermediate propositions to educe and prove from them the inferior conclusions. And out of these they framed the art. After that, if any new particulars and examples repugnant to their dogmas were mooted and adduced, either they subtly molded them into their system by distinctions or explanations of their rules, or else coarsely got rid of them by exceptions. While to such particulars as were not repugnant, they labored to assign causes in conformity with their principles. But this was not the natural history and experience that was wanted. Far from it. And besides, that flying off to the highest generalities ruined all.

126

It will also be thought that by forbidding men to pronounce and to set down principles as established until they have duly arrived through the intermediate steps at the highest generalities, I maintain a sort of suspension of the judgment, and bring it to what the Greeks call Acatalepsia, a denial of the capacity of the mind to comprehend truth. But in reality that which I meditate and propound is not Acatalepsia, but Eucatalepsia, not denial of the capacity to understand, but provision for understanding truly. For I do not take away authority from the senses, but supply them with helps. I do not slight the understanding, but govern it. And better surely it is that we should know all we need to know, and yet think our knowledge imperfect, than that we should think our knowledge perfect and yet not know anything that we need to know.

127

It may also be asked (in the way of doubt rather than objection) whether I speak of natural philosophy only, or whether I mean that the other sciences, logic, ethics, and politics, should be carried on by this method. Now I certainly mean what I have said to be understood of them all. And as the common logic, which governs by the syllogism, extends not only to natural but to all sciences, so does mine also, which proceeds by induction, embrace everything. For I form a history and tables of discovery for anger, fear, shame, and the like; for matters political; and again for the mental operations of memory, composition and division, judgment and the rest; not less than for heat and cold, or light, or vegetation, or the like. But nevertheless since my method of interpretation, after the history has been prepared and duly arranged, regards not the working and discourse of the mind only (as the common logic does) but the nature of things also, I supply the mind with such rules and guidance that it may in every case apply itself aptly to the nature of things. And therefore I deliver many and diverse precepts in the doctrine of Interpretation, which in some measure modify the method of invention according to the quality and condition of the subject of the inquiry.

128

On one point not even a doubt ought to be entertained: namely, whether I desire to pull down and destroy the philosophy and arts and sciences which are at present in use. So far from that, I am most glad to see them used, cultivated, and honored. There is no reason why the arts which are now in fashion should not continue to supply matter for disputation and ornaments for discourse, to be employed for the convenience of professors and men in business, to be, in short, like current coin, which passes among men by consent. Nay I frankly declare that what I am introducing will be but little fitted for such purposes as these since it cannot be brought down to common apprehension, save by effects and works only. But how sincere I am in my professions of affection and good will towards the received sciences, my published writings, especially the books on the Advancement of Learning, sufficiently show. And therefore I will not attempt to prove it further by words. Meanwhile I give constant and distinct warning that by the methods now in use neither can any great progress be made in the doctrines and contemplative part of sciences, nor can they be carried out to any magnitude of works.

129

It remains for me to say a few words touching the excellency of the end in view. Had they been uttered earlier, they might have seemed like idle wishes, but now that hopes have been raised and unfair prejudices removed, they may perhaps have greater weight. Also if I had finished all myself, and had no occasion to call in others to help and take part in the work, I should even now have abstained from such language, lest it might be taken as a proclamation of my own deserts. But since I want to quicken the industry and rouse and kindle the zeal of others, it is fitting that I put men in mind of some things.

In the first place then, the introduction of famous discoveries appears to hold by far the first place among human actions. And this was the judgment of the former ages. For to the authors of inventions they awarded divine honors, while to those who did good service in the state (such as founders of cities and empires, legislators, saviors of their country from long endured evils, quellers of tyrannies, and the like) they decreed no higher honors than heroic. And certainly if a man rightly compare the two, he will find that this judgment of antiquity was just. For the benefits of discoveries may extend to the whole race of man, civil benefits only to particular places. The latter last not beyond a few ages, the former through all time. Moreover, the reformation of a state in civil matters is seldom brought in without violence and confusion. But discoveries carry blessings with them, and confer benefits without causing harm or sorrow to any.

Again, discoveries are as it were new creations, and imitations of God’s works, as well sang the poet:

To man’s frail race great Athens long ago
First gave the seed whence waving harvests grow,
And re-created all our life below.

And it appears worthy of remark in Solomon, that though mighty in empire and in gold, in the magnificence of his works, his court, his household, and his fleet, the luster of his name and the worship of mankind, yet he took none of these to glory in, but propounded that “the glory of God is to conceal a thing; the glory of the king to search it out.”

Again, let a man only consider what a difference there is between the life of men in the most civilized province of Europe and in the wildest and most barbarous districts of New India, he will feel it be great enough to justify the saying that “man is a god to man” not only in regard of aid and benefit, but also by a comparison of condition. And this difference comes not from soil, not from climate, not from race, but from the arts.

Again, it is well to observe the force and virtue and consequences of discoveries. And these are to be seen nowhere more conspicuously than in those three which were unknown to the ancients, and of which the origin, though recent, is obscure and inglorious—namely, printing, gunpowder, and the magnet. For these three have changed the whole face and state of things throughout the world—the first in literature, the second in warfare, the third in navigation. Whence have followed innumerable changes, insomuch that no empire, no sect, no star seems to have exerted greater power and influence in human affairs than these mechanical discoveries.

Further it will not be amiss to distinguish the three kinds and as it were grades of ambition in mankind. The first is of those who desire to extend their own power in their native country, which kind is vulgar and degenerate. The second is of those who labor to extend the power of their country and its dominion among men. This certainly has more dignity, though not less covetousness. But if a man endeavor to establish and extend the power and dominion of the human race itself over the universe, his ambition (if ambition it can be called) is without doubt both a more wholesome thing and more noble than the other two. Now the empire of man over things depends wholly on the arts and sciences. For we cannot command nature except by obeying her.

Again, if men have thought so much of some one particular discovery as to regard him as more than man who has been able by some benefit to make the whole human race his debtor, how much higher a thing to discover that by means of which all things else shall be discovered with ease! And yet (to speak the whole truth), as the uses of light are infinite in enabling us to walk, to ply our arts, to read, to recognize one another—and nevertheless the very beholding of the light is itself a more excellent and a fairer thing than all the uses of it—so assuredly the very contemplation of things, as they are, without superstition or imposture, error or confusion, is in itself more worthy than all the fruit of inventions.

Lastly, if the debasement of arts and sciences to purposes of wickedness, luxury, and the like, be made a ground of objection, let no one be moved thereby. For the same may be said of all earthly goods, of wit, courage, strength, beauty, wealth, light itself, and the rest. Only let the human race recover that right over nature which belongs to it by divine bequest, and let power be given it, the exercise thereof will be governed by sound reason and true religion.

130

And now it is time for me to propound the art itself of interpreting nature; in which, although I conceive that I have given true and most useful precepts, yet I do not say either that it is absolutely necessary (as if nothing could be done without it) or that it is perfect. For I am of opinion that if men had ready at hand a just history of nature and experience, and labored diligently thereon, and if they could bind themselves to two rules—the first, to lay aside received opinions and notions, and the second, to refrain the mind for a time from the highest generalizations, and those next to them—they would be able by the native and genuine force of the mind, without any other art, to fall into my form of interpretation. For interpretation is the true and natural work of the mind when freed from impediments. It is true, however, that by my precepts everything will be in more readiness and much more sure.

Nor again do I mean to say that no improvement can be made upon these. On the contrary, I, who regard the mind not only in its own faculties, but in its connection with things, must believe that the art of discovery may advance as discoveries advance.

APHORISMS
CONCERNING THE INTERPRETATION OF NATURE
AND THE KINGDOM OF MAN
 [BOOK TWO]

1

On a given body to generate and superinduce a new nature or new natures, is the work and aim of human power. Of a given nature to discover the Form, or true specific difference, or nature-engendering nature, or source of emanation (for these are the terms which come nearest to a description of the thing), is the work and aim of human knowledge. Subordinate to these primary works are two others that are secondary and of inferior mark. To the former, the transformation of concrete bodies, so far as this is possible. To the latter, the discovery, in every case of generation and motion, of the latent process carried on from the manifest efficient and the manifest material to the Form which is engendered. And in like manner the discovery of the latent configuration of bodies at rest and not in motion.

2

In what an ill condition human knowledge is at the present time, is apparent even from the commonly received maxims. It is a correct position that “True knowledge is knowledge by causes.” And causes again are not improperly distributed into four kinds: the material, the formal, the efficient, and the final. But of these the final cause rather corrupts than advances the sciences, except such as have to do with human action. The discovery of the formal is despaired of. The efficient and the material (as they are investigated and received, that is, as remote causes, without reference to the latent process leading to the Form) are but slight and superficial, and contribute little, if anything, to true and active science. Nor have I forgotten that in a former passage I noted and corrected as an error of the human mind that opinion that forms give existence. For though in nature nothing really exists beside individual bodies, performing pure individual acts according to a fixed law, yet in philosophy this very law, and the investigation, discovery, and explanation of it, is the foundation as well of knowledge as of operations. And it is this law, with its clauses, that I mean when I speak of Forms—a name which I the rather adopt because it has grown into use and become familiar.

3

If a man be acquainted with the causes of any nature (as whiteness or heat) in certain subjects only, his knowledge is imperfect. And if he be able to superinduce an effect on certain substances only (of those susceptible of such effect), his power is in like manner imperfect. Now, if a man’s knowledge be confined to the efficient and material causes (which are unstable causes and merely vehicles, or causes which convey the Form in certain cases) he may arrive at new discoveries in reference to substances in some degree similar to one another, and selected beforehand, but he does not touch the deeper boundaries of things. But whosoever is acquainted with Forms, embraces the unity of nature in substances the most unlike, and is able therefore to detect and bring to light things never yet done, and such as neither the vicissitudes of nature, nor industry in experiments, nor accident itself, would ever have brought into act and which would never have occurred to the thought of man. From the discovery of Forms, therefore, results truth in speculation and freedom in operation.

4

Although the roads to human power and to human knowledge lie close together, and are nearly the same, nevertheless on account of the pernicious and inveterate habit of dwelling on abstractions, it is safer to begin and raise the sciences from those foundations which have relation to practice, and to let the active part itself be as the seal which prints and determines the contemplative counterpart. We must therefore consider, if a man wanted to generate and superinduce any nature upon a given body, what kind of rule or direction or guidance he would most wish for, and express the same in the simplest and least abstruse language. For instance, if a man wishes to superinduce upon silver the yellow color of gold or an increase of weight (observing the laws of matter), or transparency on an opaque stone, or tenacity on glass, or vegetation on some substance that is not vegetable, we must consider, I say, what kind of rule or guidance he would most desire. And in the first place, he will undoubtedly wish to be directed to something which will not deceive him in the result, nor fail him in the trial. Secondly, he will wish for such a rule as shall not tie him down to certain means and particular modes of operation. For perhaps he may not have those means, nor be able conveniently to procure them. And if there be other means and other methods for producing the required nature (beside the one prescribed) these may perhaps be within his reach. And yet he shall be excluded by the narrowness of the rule, and get no good from them. Thirdly, he will desire something to be shown him, which is not as difficult as the thing proposed to be done, but comes nearer to practice.

For a true and perfect rule of operation, then, the direction will be that it be certain, free, and disposing or leading to action. And this is the same thing with the discovery of the true Form. For the Form of a nature is such, that given the Form, the nature infallibly follows. Therefore it is always present when the nature is present, and universally implies it, and is constantly inherent in it. Again, the Form is such that if it be taken away, the nature infallibly vanishes. Therefore it is always absent when the nature is absent, and implies its absence, and inheres in nothing else. Lastly, the true Form is such that it deduces the given nature from some source of being which is inherent in more natures, and which is better known in the natural order of things than the Form itself. For a true and perfect axiom of knowledge, then, the direction and precept will be, that another nature be discovered which is convertible with the given nature, and yet is a limitation of a more general nature, as of a true and real genus. Now these two directions, the one active, the other contemplative, are one and the same thing and what in operation is most useful, that in knowledge is most true.

5

The rule or axiom for the transformation of bodies is of two kinds. The first regards a body as a troop or collection of simple natures. In gold, for example, the following properties meet: It is yellow in color, heavy up to a certain weight, malleable or ductile to a certain degree of extension, it is not volatile and loses none of its substance by the action of fire, it turns into a liquid with a certain degree of fluidity, it is separated and dissolved by particular means, and so on for the other natures which meet in gold. This kind of axiom, therefore, deduces the thing from the Forms of simple natures. For he who knows the Forms of yellow, weight, ductility, fixity, fluidity, solution, and so on, and the methods for superinducing them, and their gradations and modes, will make it his care to have them joined together in some body, whence may follow the transformation of that body into gold. And this kind of operation pertains to the first kind of action. For the principle of generating some one simple nature is the same as that of generating many; only that a man is more fettered and tied down in operation, if more are required, by reason of the difficulty of combining into one so many natures which do not readily meet, except in the beaten and ordinary paths of nature. It must be said, however, that this mode of operation (which looks to simple natures though in a compound body) proceeds from what in nature is constant and eternal and universal, and opens broad roads to human power, such as (in the present state of things) human thought can scarcely comprehend or anticipate.

The second kind of axiom, which is concerned with the discovery of the Latent Process, proceeds not by simple natures, but by compound bodies, as they are found in nature in its ordinary course. As, for instance, when inquiry is made, from what beginnings and by what method and by what process, gold or any other metal or stone is generated, from its first menstrua and rudiments up to the perfect mineral. Or in like manner by what process herbs are generated, from the first concretion of juices in the ground or from seeds up to the formed plant, with all the successive motions and diverse and continued efforts of nature. So also in the inquiry concerning the process of development in the generation of animals, from coition to birth, and in like manner of other bodies.

It is not, however, only to the generation of bodies that this investigation extends, but also to other motions and operations of nature. As, for instance, when inquiry is made concerning the whole course and continued action of nutrition, from the first reception of the food to its complete assimilation; or again, concerning the voluntary motion of animals, from the first impression on the imagination and the continued efforts of the spirit up to the bendings and movements of the limbs; or concerning the motion of the tongue and lips and other instruments, and the changes through which it passes till it comes to the utterance of articulate sounds. For these inquiries also relate to natures concrete or combined into one structure, and have regard to what may be called particular and special habits of nature, not to her fundamental and universal laws which constitute Forms. And yet it must be confessed that this plan appears to be readier and to lie nearer at hand and to give more ground for hope than the primary one.

In like manner the operative which answers to this speculative part, starting from the ordinary incidents of nature, extends its operation to things immediately adjoining, or at least not far removed. But as for any profound and radical operations on nature, they depend entirely on the primary axioms. And in those things too where man has no means of operating, but only of knowing, as in the heavenly bodies (for these he cannot operate upon or change or transform), the investigation of the fact itself or truth of the thing, no less than the knowledge of the causes and consents, must come from those primary and catholic axioms concerning simple natures; such as the nature of spontaneous rotation, of attraction or magnetism, and of many other which are of a more general form than the heavenly bodies themselves. For let no one hope to decide the question whether it is the earth or heaven that really revolves in the diurnal motion, until he has first comprehended the nature of spontaneous rotation.

6

But this Latent Process, of which I speak, is quite another thing than men, preoccupied as their minds now are, will easily conceive. For what I understand by it is not certain measures or signs or successive steps of process in bodies, which can be seen, but a process perfectly continuous, which for the most part escapes the sense.

For instance, in all generation and transformation of bodies, we must inquire what is lost and escapes; what remains, what is added; what is expanded, what contracted; what is united, what separated; what is continued, what cut off; what propels, what hinders; what predominates, what yields; and a variety of other particulars.

Again, not only in the generation or transformation of bodies are these points to be ascertained, but also in all other alterations and motions it should in like manner be inquired what goes before, what comes after; what is quicker, what more tardy; what produces, what governs motion; and like points. All which nevertheless in the present state of the sciences (the texture of which is as rude as possible and good for nothing) are unknown and unhandled. For seeing that every natural action depends on things infinitely small, or at least too small to strike the sense, no one can hope to govern or change nature until he has duly comprehended and observed them.

7

In like manner the investigation and discovery of the Latent Configuration in bodies is a new thing, no less than the discovery of the Latent Process and the Form. For as yet we are but lingering in the outer courts of nature, nor are we preparing ourselves a way into her inner chambers. Yet no one can endow a given body with a new nature, or successfully and aptly transmute it into a new body, unless he has attained a competent knowledge of the body so to be altered or transformed. Otherwise he will run into methods which, if not useless, are at any rate difficult and perverse and unsuitable to the nature of the body on which he is operating. It is clear, therefore, that to this also a way must be opened and laid out.

And it is true that upon the anatomy of organized bodies (as of man and animals) some pains have been well bestowed and with good effect, and a subtle thing it seems to be, and a good scrutiny of nature. Yet this kind of anatomy is subject to sight and sense, and has place only in organized bodies. And besides it is a thing obvious and easy, when compared with the true anatomy of the Latent Configuration in bodies which are thought to be of uniform structure; especially in things that have a specific character, as iron, stone; and again in parts of uniform structure in plants and animals, as the root, the leaf, the flower, flesh, blood, and bones. But even in this kind, human industry has not been altogether wanting. For this is the very thing aimed at in the separation of bodies of uniform structure by means of distillations and other modes of analysis, that the complex structure of the compound may be made apparent by bringing together its several homogeneous parts. And this is of use too, and conduces to the object we are seeking, although too often fallacious in its results because many natures which are in fact newly brought out and superinduced by fire and heat and other modes of solution are taken to be the effect of separation merely, and to have subsisted in the compound before. And after all, this is but a small part of the work of discovering the true Configuration in the compound body, which Configuration is a thing far more subtle and exact, and such as the operation of fire rather confounds than brings out and makes distinct.

Therefore a separation and solution of bodies must be effected, not by fire indeed, but by reasoning and true induction, with experiments to aid; and by a comparison with other bodies, and a reduction to simple natures and their Forms, which meet and mix in the compound. In a word, we must pass from Vulcan to Minerva, if we intend to bring to light the true textures and Configurations of bodies, on which all the occult and, as they are called, specific properties and virtues in things depend; and from which too the rule of every powerful alteration and transformation is derived.

For example, we must inquire what amount of spirit there is in every body, what of tangible essence. And of the spirit, whether it be copious and turgid, or meager and scarce; whether it be fine or coarse, akin to air or to fire, brisk or sluggish, weak or strong, progressive or retrograde, interrupted or continuous, agreeing with external and surrounding objects, or disagreeing, etc. In like manner we must inquire into the tangible essence (which admits of no fewer differences than the spirit), into its coats, its fibers, its kinds of texture. Moreover the disposition of the spirit throughout the corporeal frame, with its pores, passages, veins and cells, and the rudiments or first essays of the organized body, fall under the same investigation. But on these inquiries also, and I may say on all the discovery of the Latent Configuration, a true and clear light is shed by the primary axioms, which entirely dispels all darkness and subtlety.

8

Nor shall we thus be led to the doctrine of atoms, which implies the hypothesis of a vacuum and that of the unchangeableness of matter (both false assumptions). We shall be led only to real particles, such as really exist. Nor again is there any reason to be alarmed at the subtlety of the investigation, as if it could not be disentangled. On the contrary, the nearer it approaches to simple natures, the easier and plainer will everything become—the business being transferred from the complicated to the simple; from the incommensurable to the commensurable; from surds to rational quantities; from the infinite and vague to the finite and certain; as in the case of the letters of the alphabet and the notes of music. And inquiries into nature have the best result when they begin with physics and end in mathematics. Again, let no one be afraid of high numbers or minute fractions. For in dealing with numbers it is as easy to set down or conceive a thousand as one, or the thousandth part of an integer as the integer itself.

9

From the two kind of axioms which have been spoken of arises a just division of philosophy and the sciences, taking the received terms (which come nearest to express the thing) in a sense agreeable to my own views. Thus, let the investigation of Forms, which are (in the eye of reason at least and in their essential law) eternal and immutable, constitute Metaphysics. And let the investigation of the Efficient Cause and of Matter, and of the Latent Process, and the Latent Configuration (all of which have reference to the common and ordinary course of nature, not to her eternal and fundamental laws) constitute Physics. And to these let there be subordinate two practical divisions: to Physics, Mechanics; to Metaphysics, what (in a purer sense of the word) I call Magic, on account of the broadness of the ways it moves in, and its greater command over nature.

10

Having thus set up the mark of knowledge, we must go on to precepts, and that in the most direct and obvious order. Now my directions for the interpretation of nature embrace two generic divisions: the one how to educe and form axioms from experience, the other how to deduce and derive new experiments from axioms. The former again is divided into three ministrations: a ministration to the sense, a ministration to the memory, and a ministration to the mind or reason.

For first of all we must prepare a Natural and Experimental History, sufficient and good, and this is the foundation of all. For we are not to imagine or suppose, but to discover, what nature does or may be made to do.

But natural and experimental history is so various and diffuse, that it confounds and distracts the understanding, unless it be ranged and presented to view in a suitable order. We must therefore form Tables and Arrangements of Instances, in such a method and order that the understanding may be able to deal with them.

And even when this is done, still the understanding, if left to itself and its own spontaneous movements, is incompetent and unfit to form axioms, unless it be directed and guarded. Therefore in the third place we must use Induction, true and legitimate induction which is the very key of interpretation. But of this, which is the last, I must speak first, and then go back to the other ministrations.

11

The investigation of Forms proceeds thus: a nature being given, we must first of all have a muster or presentation before the understanding of all known instances which agree in the same nature, though in substances the most unlike. And such collection must be made in the manner of a history, without premature speculation, or any great amount of subtlety. For example, let the investigation be into the Form of Heat.

Instances Agreeing in the Nature of Heat

1. The rays of the sun, especially in summer and at noon.

2. The rays of the sun reflected and condensed, as between mountains, or on walls, and most of all in burning glasses and mirrors.

3. Fiery meteors.

4. Burning thunderbolts.

5. Eruptions of flame from the cavities of mountains.

6. All flame.

7. Ignited solids.

8. Natural warm baths.

9. Liquids boiling or heated.

10. Hot vapors and fumes, and the air itself, which conceives the most powerful and glowing heat, if confined, as in reverbatory furnaces.

11. Certain seasons that are fine and cloudless by the constitution of the air itself, without regard to the time of year.

12. Air confined and underground in some caverns, especially in winter.

13. All villous substances, as wool, skins of animals, and down of birds, have heat.

14. All bodies, whether solid or liquid, whether dense or rare (as the air itself is), held for a time near the fire.

15. Sparks struck from flint and steel by strong percussion.

16. All bodies rubbed violently, as stone, wood, cloth, etc., insomuch that poles and axles of wheels sometimes catch fire. And the way they kindled fire in the West Indies was by attrition.

17. Green and moist vegetables confined and bruised together, as roses packed in baskets; insomuch that hay, if damp when stacked, often catches fire.

18. Quick lime sprinkled with water.

19. Iron, when first dissolved by strong waters in glass, and that without being put near the fire. And in like manner tin, etc., but not with equal intensity.

20. Animals, especially and at all times internally, though in insects the heat is not perceptible to the touch by reason of the smallness of their size.

21. Horse dung and like excrements of animals when fresh.

22. Strong oil of sulfur and of vitriol has the effect of heat in burning linen.

23. Oil of marjoram and similar oils have the effect of heat in burning the bones of the teeth.

24. Strong and well rectified spirit of wine has the effect of heat, insomuch that the white of an egg being put into it hardens and whitens almost as if it were boiled, and bread thrown in becomes dry and crusted like toast.

25. Aromatic and hot herbs, as dracunculus, nasturtium vetus, etc., although not warm to the hand (either whole or in powder), yet to the tongue and palate, being a little masticated, they feel hot and burning.

26. Strong vinegar and all acids on all parts of the body where there is no epidermis, as the eye, tongue, or on any part when wounded and laid bare of the skin, produce a pain but little differing from that which is created by heat.

27. Even keen and intense cold produces a kind of sensation of burning: “Nor burns the sharp cold of the northern blast.”

28. Other instances.

This table I call the Table of Essence and Presence.

12

Secondly, we must make a presentation to the understanding of instances in which the given nature is wanting because the Form, as stated above, ought no less to be absent when the given nature is absent, than present when it is present. But to note all these would be endless.

The negatives should therefore be subjoined to the affirmatives, and the absence of the given nature inquired of in those subjects only that are most akin to the others in which it is present and forthcoming. This I call the Table of Deviation, or of Absence in Proximity.

Instances in Proximity where the Nature of Heat is Absent

Answering to the first affirmative instance     1. The rays of the moon and of stars and comets are not found to be hot to the touch, indeed the severest colds are observed to be at the full moons. The larger fixed stars, however, when passed or approached by the sun, are supposed to increase and give intensity to the heat of the sun, as is the case when the sun is in the sign of Leo, and in the Dog days.

To the 2nd      2. The rays of the sun in what is called the middle region of the air do not give heat, for which there is commonly assigned not a bad reason, namely, that that region is neither near enough to the body of the sun from which the rays emanate, nor to the earth from which they are reflected. And this appears from the fact that on tops of mountains, unless they are very high, there is perpetual snow. On the other hand, it has been observed that on the peak of Tenerife, and among the Andes of Peru, the very tops of the mountains are free from snow, which lies only somewhat lower down. Moreover the air itself at the very top is found to be by no means cold, but only rare and keen; insomuch that on the Andes it pricks and hurts the eyes by its excessive keenness, and also irritates the mouth of the stomach, producing vomiting. And it was observed by the ancients that on the top of Olympus the rarity of the air was such that those who ascended it had to carry sponges with them dipped in vinegar and water, and to apply them from time to time to their mouth and nose, the air being from its rarity not sufficient to support respiration; and it was further stated that on this summit the air was so serene, and so free from rain and snow and wind, that letters traced by the finger in the ashes of the sacrifices on the altar of Jupiter remained there till the next year without being at all disturbed. And at this day, travelers ascending to the top of the Peak of Tenerife make the ascent by night and not by day, and soon after the rising of the sun are warned and urged by their guards to come down without delay, on account of the danger they run lest the animal spirits should swoon and be suffocated by the tenuity of the air.

To the 2nd      3. The reflection of the rays of the sun in regions near the polar circles is found to be very weak and ineffective in producing heat, insomuch that the Dutch who wintered in Nova Zembla, and expected their ship to be freed from the obstructions of the mass of ice which hemmed her in by the beginning of July, were disappointed of their expectation, and obliged to take to their boat. Thus the direct rays of the sun seem to have but little power, even on the level ground. Nor have the reflections much, unless they are multiplied and combined, which is the case when the sun tends more to the perpendicular, for then the incident rays make more acute angles, so that the lines of the rays are nearer each other. Whereas on the contrary, when the sun shines very obliquely, the angles are very obtuse, and thus the lines of rays are at a greater distance from each other. Meanwhile it should be observed that there may be many operations of the sun, and those too depending on the nature of heat, which are not proportioned to our touch, so that in respect of us their action does not go so far as to produce sensible warmth but in respect of some other bodies they have the effect of heat.

To the 2nd      4. Try the following experiment. Take a glass fashioned in a contrary manner to a common burning glass, and placing it between your hand and the rays of the sun, observe whether it diminishes the heat of the sun, as a burning glass increases and strengthens it. For it is evident in the case of optical rays, that according as the glass is made thicker or thinner in the middle as compared with the sides, so do the objects seen through it appear more spread or more contracted. Observe therefore whether the same is the case with heat.

To the 2nd      5. Let the experiment be carefully tried, whether by means of the most powerful and best constructed burning glasses, the rays of the moon can be so caught and collected as to produce even the least degree of warmth. But should this degree of warmth prove too subtle and weak to be perceived and apprehended by the touch, recourse must be had to those glasses which indicate the state of the atmosphere in respect of heat and cold. Thus, let the rays of the moon fall through a burning glass on the top of a glass of this kind, and then observe whether there ensues a sinking of the water through warmth.

To the 2nd      6. Let a burning glass also be tried with a heat that does not emit rays of light, as that of iron or stone heated but not ignited, boiling water, and the like, and observe whether there ensue an increase of the heat, as in the case of the sun’s rays.

To the 2nd      7. Let a burning glass also be tried with common flame.

To the 3rd      8. Comets (if we are to reckon these too among meteors) are not found to exert a constant or manifest effect in increasing the heat of the season though it is observed that they are often followed by droughts. Moreover, bright beams and pillars and openings in the heavens appear more frequently in winter than in summer time, and chiefly during the most intense cold, but always accompanied by dry weather. Lightning, however, and coruscations and thunder, seldom occur in the winter, but about the time of great heat. Falling stars, as they are called, are commonly supposed to consist rather of some bright and lighted viscous substance, than to be of any strong fiery nature. But on this point let further inquiry be made.

To the 4th      9. There are certain coruscations which give light but do not burn. And these always come without thunder.

To the 5th      10. Eructations and eruptions of flame are found no less in cold than in warm countries, as in Iceland and Greenland. In cold countries too, the trees are in many cases more inflammable and more pitchy and resinous than in warm, as the fir, pine and others. The situations however and the nature of the soil in which eruptions of this kind usually occur have not been carefully enough ascertained to enable us to subjoin a Negative to this Affirmative Instance.

To the 6th      11. All flame is in all cases more or less warm, nor is there any Negative to be subjoined. And yet they say that the ignis fatuus (as it is called), which sometimes even settles on a wall, has not much heat, perhaps as much as the flame of spirit of wine, which is mild and soft. But still milder must that flame be, which according to certain grave and trustworthy histories has been seen shining about the head and locks of boys and girls, without at all burning the hair, but softly playing round it. It is also most certain that about a horse, when sweating on the road, there is sometimes seen at night, and in clear weather, a sort of luminous appearance without any manifest heat. And it is a well known fact, and looked upon as a sort of miracle, that a few years ago a girl’s stomacher, on being shaken or rubbed, emitted sparks, which was caused perhaps by some alum or salts used in the dye that stood somewhat thin and formed a crust, and were broken by the friction. It is also most certain that all sugar, whether refined or raw, provided only it be somewhat hard, sparkles when broken or scraped with a knife in the dark. In like manner sea and salt water is sometimes found to sparkle by night when struck violently by oars. And in storms too at night time, the foam of the sea when violently agitated emits sparks, and this sparkling the Spaniards call Sea Lung. With regard to the heat of the flame which was called by ancient sailors Castor and Pollux, and by moderns St. Elmo’s Fire, no sufficient investigation thereof has been made.

To the 7th      12. Every body ignited so as to turn to a fiery red, even if unaccompanied by flame, is always hot. Neither is there any Negative to be subjoined to this Affirmative. But that which comes nearest seems to be rotten wood, which shines by night and yet is not found to be hot; and the putrefying scales of fish, which also shine in the dark, and yet are not warm to the touch. Nor again is the body of the glowworm, or the fly called Luciola, found to be warm to the touch.

To the 8th      13. In what situation and kin of soil warm baths usually spring, has not been sufficiently examined, and therefore no Negative is subjoined.

To the 9th      14. To warm liquids I subjoin the Negative Instance of liquid itself in its natural state. For we find no tangible liquid which is warm in its own nature and remains so constantly, but the warmth is an adventitious nature, superinduced only for the time being so that the liquids which in power and operation are hottest, as spirit of wine, chemical oil of spices, oil of vitriol and sulfur, and the like which burn after a while, are at first cold to the touch. The water of natural warm baths, on the other hand, if received into a vessel and separated from its springs, cools just like water that has been heated on a fire. But it is true that oily substances are less cold to the touch than water, oil being less cold than water, and silk than linen. But this belongs to the Table of Degrees of Cold.

To the 10th      15. In like manner to hot vapor I subjoin as a Negative the nature of vapor itself, such as we find it with us. For exhalations from oily substances, though easily inflammable, are yet not found to be warm unless newly exhaled from the warm body.

To the 10th      16. In like manner I subjoin as a Negative to hot air the nature of air itself. For we do not find here any air that is warm, unless it has either been confined, or compressed, or manifestly warmed by the sun, fire, or some other warm substance.

To the 11th      17. I here subjoin the Negative of colder weather than is suitable to the season of the year, which we find occurs during east and north winds, just as we have weather of the opposite kind with the south and west winds. So a tendency to rain, especially in winter time, accompanies warm weather, while frost accompanies cold.

To the 12th      18. Here I subjoin the Negative of air confined in caverns during the summer. But the subject of air in confinement should by all means be more diligently examined. For in the first place it may well be a matter of doubt what is the nature of air in itself with regard to heat and cold. For air manifestly receives warmth from the influence of the heavenly bodies, and cold perhaps from the exhalations of the earth; and again in the middle region of air, as it is called, from cold vapors and snow, so that no opinion can be formed as to the nature of air from the examination of air that is at large and exposed. But a truer judgment might be made by examining it when confined. It is, however, necessary for the air to be confined in a vessel of such material as will not itself communicate warmth or cold to the air by its own nature, nor readily admit the influence of the outer atmosphere. Let the experiment therefore be made in an earthen jar wrapped round with many folds of leather to protect it from the outward air, and let the vessel remain tightly closed for three or four days, then open the vessel and test the degree of heat or cold by applying either the hand or a graduated glass.

To the 13th      19. In like manner a doubt suggests itself whether the warmth in wool, skins, feathers and the like, proceeds from a faint degree of heat inherent in them, as being excretions from animals; or from a certain fat and oiliness, which is of a nature akin to warmth; or simply, as surmised in the preceding article, from the confinement and separation of the air. For all air that is cut off from connection with the outer air seems to have some warmth. Try the experiment, therefore, with fibrous substances made of linen, not of wool, feathers, or silk, which are excretions from animals. It should also be observed that all powders (in which there is manifestly air enclosed) are less cold than the whole substances they are made from. As likewise I suppose that all froth (as that which contains air) is less cold than the liquor it comes from.

To the 14th      20. To this no Negative is subjoined. For there is nothing found among us either tangible or spirituous which does not contract warmth when put near fire. There is this difference, however, that some substances contract warmth more quickly, as air, oil, and water; others more slowly, as stone and metal. But this belongs to the Table of Degrees.

To the 15th      21. To this Instance I subjoin no Negative, except that I would have it well observed that sparks are produced from flint and steel, or any other hard substance, only when certain minute particles are struck off from the substance of the stone or metal; and that the attrition of the air does not of itself ever produce sparks, as is commonly supposed. And the sparks themselves too, owing to the weight of the ignited body, tend rather downwards than upwards; and on going out become a tangible sooty substance.

To the 16th      22. There is no Negative, I think, to be subjoined to this Instance. For we find among us no tangible body which does not manifestly gain warmth by attrition, insomuch that the ancients fancied that the heavenly bodies had no other means or power of producing warmth than by the attrition of the air in their rapid and hurried revolution. But on this subject we must further inquire whether bodies discharged from engines, as balls from cannon, do not acquire some degree of heat from the very percussion, so as to be found somewhat warm when they fall. Air in motion, however, rather chills than warms, as appears from wind, bellows, and blowing with the mouth contracted. But motion of this kind is not so rapid as to excite heat, and is the motion of a mass, and not of particles, so that it is no wonder if it does not generate heat.

To the 17th      23. On this Instance should be made more diligent inquiry. For herbs and vegetables when green and moist seem to contain some latent heat, though so slight that it is not perceptible to the touch when they are single but only when they are collected and shut up together, so that their spirits may not breathe out into the air but may mutually cherish each other; whereupon there arises a palpable heat, and sometimes flame in suitable matter.

To the 18th      24. On this Instance too should be made more diligent inquiry. For quick lime sprinkled with water seems to contract heat, either by the concentration of heat before dispersed, as in the above mentioned case of confined herbs, or because the igneous spirit is irritated and exasperated by the water, so as to cause a conflict and reaction. Which of these two is the real cause will more readily appear if oil be poured on instead of water; for oil will serve equally well with water to concentrate the enclosed spirit but not to irritate it. We should also extend the experiment both by employing the ashes and rusts of different bodies, and by pouring in different liquids.

To the 19th      25. To this Instance is subjoined the Negative of other metals which are softer and more fusible. For gold leaf dissolved by aqua regia gives no heat to the touch. No more does lead dissolved in aqua fortis. Neither again does quicksilver (as I remember), but silver itself does, and copper too (as I remember), tin still more manifestly, and most of all iron and steel, which not only excite a strong heat in dissolution, but also a violent ebullition. It appears, therefore, that the heat is produced by conflict—the strong waters penetrating, digging into, and tearing asunder the parts of the substance, while the substance itself resists. But where the substances yield more easily, there is hardly any heat excited.

To the 20th      26. To the heat of animals no Negative is subjoined, except that of insects (as above mentioned), on account of their small size. For in fishes, as compared with land animals, it is rather a low degree than an absence of heat that is noted. But in vegetables and plants there is no degree of heat perceptible to the touch, either in their exudations or in their pith when freshly exposed. In animals however is found a great diversity of heat, both in their parts (there being different degrees of heat about the heart, in the brain, and on the skin) and in their accidents, as violent exercise and fevers.

To the 21st      27. To this Instance it is hard to subjoin a Negative. Indeed the excrements of animals when no longer fresh have manifestly a potential heat, as is seen in the enriching of soil.

To the 22nd and 23rd      28. Liquids, whether waters or oils, which possess a great and intense acridity, act like heat in tearing asunder bodies and burning them after some time, yet to the touch they are not hot at first. But their operation is relative and according to the porosity of the body to which they are applied. For aqua regia dissolves gold but not silver. Aqua fortis, on the contrary, dissolves silver but not gold. Neither dissolves glass, and so on with others.

To the 24th      29. Let trial be made of spirit of wine on wood; and also on butter, wax, or pitch; and observe whether by its heat it in any degree melts them. For the twenty-fourth instance exhibits a power in it that resembles heat in producing encrustation. In like manner therefore try its power in producing liquefaction. Let trial also be made with a graduated or calendar glass, hollow at the top. Pour into the hollow spirit of wine well rectified, cover it up that the spirit may better retain its heat, and observe whether by its heat it makes the water sink.

To the 25th      30. Spices and acrid herbs strike hot on the palate, and much hotter on the stomach. Observe therefore on what other substances they produce the effects of heat. Sailors tell us that when large parcels and masses of spices are, after being long kept close, suddenly opened, those who first stir and take them out run the risk of fever and inflammation. It can also be tried whether such spices and herbs when pounded would not dry bacon and meat hung over them, as smoke does.

To the 26th      31. There is an acridity or pungency both in cold things, as vinegar and oil of vitriol, and in hot, as oil of marjoram and the like. Both alike therefore cause pain in animate substances, and tear asunder and consume the parts in such as are inanimate. To this Instance again there is no Negative subjoined. Moreover we find no pain in animals, save with a certain sensation of heat.

To the 27th      32. There are many actions common both to heat and cold, though in a very different manner. For boys find that snow after a while seems to burn their hands. And cold preserves meat from putrefaction no less than fire. And heat contracts bodies, which cold does also. But these and similar instances may more conveniently be referred to the inquiry concerning Cold.

13

Thirdly, we must make a presentation to the understanding of instances in which the nature under inquiry is found in different degrees, more or less, which must be done by making a comparison either of its increase and decrease in the same subject, or of its amount in different subjects, as compared one with another. For since the Form of a thing is the very thing itself, and the thing differs from the Form no otherwise than as the apparent differs from the real, or the external from the internal, or the thing in reference to man from the thing in reference to the universe, it necessarily follows that no nature can be taken as the true Form unless it always decrease when the nature in question decreases, and in like manner always increase when the nature in question increases. This Table, therefore, I call the Table of Degrees or the Table of Comparison.

Table of Degrees or Comparison in Heat

I will therefore first speak of those substances which contain no degree at all of heat perceptible to the touch, but seem to have a certain potential heat only, or disposition and preparation for hotness. After that I shall proceed to substances which are hot actually, and to the touch, and to their intensities and degrees.

1. In solid and tangible bodies we find nothing which is in its nature originally hot. For no stone, metal, sulfur, fossil, wood, water, or carcass of animal is found to be hot. And the hot water in baths seems to be heated by external causes, whether it be by flame or subterraneous fire, such as is thrown up from Aetna and many other mountains, or by the conflict of bodies, as heat is caused in the dissolutions of iron and tin. There is therefore no degree of heat palpable to the touch in inanimate substances, but they differ in degree of cold, wood not being equally cold with metal. But this belongs to the Table of Degrees in Cold.

2. As far, however, as potential heat and aptitude for flame is concerned, there are many inanimate substances found strongly disposed thereto, as sulfur, naphtha, rock oil.

3. Substances once hot, as horse dung from animal heat, and lime or perhaps ashes and soot from fire, retain some latent remains of their former heat. Hence certain distillations and resolutions of bodies are made by burying them in horse dung, and heat is excited in lime by sprinkling it with water, as already mentioned.

4. In the vegetable creation we find no plant or part of plant (as gum or pitch) which is warm to the human touch. But yet, as stated above, green herbs gain warmth by being shut up. And to the internal touch, as the palate or stomach, and even to external parts, after a little time, as in plasters and ointments, some vegetables are perceptibly warm and others cold.

5. In the parts of animals after death or separation from the body, we find nothing warm to the human touch. Not even horse dung, unless enclosed and buried, retains its heat. But yet all dung seems to have a potential heat, as is seen in the fattening of the land. In like manner, carcasses of animals have some such latent and potential heat, insomuch that in burying grounds, where burials take place daily, the earth collects a certain hidden heat, which consumes a body newly laid in it much more speedily than pure earth. We are told too that in the East there is discovered a fine soft texture, made of the down of birds, which by an innate force dissolves and melts butter when lightly wrapped in it.

6. Substances which fatten the soil, as dung of all kinds, chalk, sea sand, salt, and the like, have some disposition to heat.

7. All putrefaction contains in itself certain elements of a slight heat, though not so much as to be perceived by the touch. For not even those substances which on putrefaction turn to animalculae, as flesh, cheese, etc., feel warm to the touch; no more does rotten wood, which shines in the dark. Heat however in putrid substances sometimes betrays itself by foul and powerful odors.

8. The first degree of heat therefore among those substances which feel hot to the touch, seems to be the heat of animals, which has a pretty great extent in its degrees. For the lowest, as in insects, is hardly perceptible to the touch, but the highest scarce equals the sun’s heat in the hottest countries and seasons, nor is it too great to be borne by the hand. It is said however of Constantius, and some others of a very dry constitution and habit of body, that in violent fevers they became so hot as somewhat to burn the hand that touched them.

9. Animals increase in heat by motion and exercise, wine, feasting, venus, burning fevers, and pain.

10. When attacked by intermittent fevers, animals are at first seized with cold and shivering, but soon after they become exceedingly hot, which is their condition from the first in burning and pestilential fevers.

11. Let further inquiry be made into the different degrees of heat in different animals, as in fishes, quadrupeds, serpents, birds, and also according to their species, as in the lion, the kite, the man. For in common opinion fish are the least hot internally, and birds the hottest, especially doves, hawks and sparrows.

12. Let further inquiry be made into the different degrees of heat in the different parts and limbs of the same animal. For milk, blood, seed, eggs, are found to be hot only in a moderate degree, and less hot than the outer flesh of the animal when in motion or agitated. But what the degree of heat is in the brain, stomach, heart, etc., has not yet been in like manner inquired.

13. All animals in winter and cold weather are cold externally, but internally they are thought to be even hotter.

14. The heat of the heavenly bodies, even in the hottest countries, and at the hottest times of the year and day, is never sufficiently strong to set on fire or burn the driest wood or straw, or even tinder, unless strengthened by burning glasses or mirrors. It is, however, able to extract vapor from moist substances.

15. By the tradition of astronomers some stars are hotter than others. Of planets, Mars is accounted the hottest after the sun, then comes Jupiter, and then Venus. Others, again, are set down as cold: the moon, for instance, and above all Saturn. Of fixed stars, Sirius is said to be the hottest, then Cor Leonis or Regulus, then Canicula, and so on.

16. The sun gives greater heat the nearer he approaches to the perpendicular or zenith, and this is probably true of the other planets also, according to the proportion of their heat. Jupiter, for instance, is hotter, probably, to us when under Cancer or Leo than under Capricorn or Aquarius.

17. We must also believe that the sun and other planets give more heat in perigee, from their proximity to the earth, than they do in apogee. But if it happens that in some region the sun is at the same time in perigee and near the perpendicular, his heat must of necessity be greater than in a region where he is also in perigee, but shining more obliquely. And therefore the altitude of the planets in their exaltation in different regions ought to be noted with respect to perpendicularity or obliquity.

18. The sun and other planets are supposed to give greater heat when nearer to the larger fixed stars. Thus when the sun is in Leo he is nearer Cor Leonis, Cauda Leonis, Spica Virginis, Sirius and Canicula, than when he is in Cancer, in which sign however he is nearer to the perpendicular. And it must be supposed that those parts of the heavens shed the greatest heat (though it be not at all perceptible to the touch) which are the most adorned with stars, especially of a larger size.

19. Altogether the heat of the heavenly bodies is increased in three ways: first, by perpendicularity; secondly, by proximity or perigee; thirdly, by the conjunction or combination of stars.

20. The heat of animals, and of the rays of the heavenly bodies also (as they reach us), is found to differ by a wide interval from flame, though of the mildest kind, and from all ignited bodies, and from liquids also, and air itself when highly heated by fire. For the flame or spirit of wine, though scattered and not condensed, is yet sufficient to set paper, straw, or linen on fire, which the heat of animals will never do, or of the sun without a burning glass or mirror.

21. There are, however, many degrees of strength and weakness in the heat of flame and ignited bodies. But as they have never been diligently inquired into, we must pass them lightly over. It appears, however, that of all flame that of spirit of wine is the softest, unless perhaps ignis fatuus be softer, and the flames or sparklings arising from the sweat of animals. Next to this, as I suppose, comes flame from light and porous vegetable matter, as straw, reeds, and dried leaves, from which the flame from hairs or feathers does not much differ. Next perhaps comes flame from wood, especially such as contains but little rosin or pitch, with this distinction, however, that the flame from small pieces of wood (such as are commonly tied up in fagots) is milder than the flame from trunks and roots of trees. And this you may try any day in furnaces for smelting iron, in which a fire made with fagots and boughs of trees is of no great use. After this I think comes flame from oil, tallow, wax, and such like fat and oily substances, which have no great acrimony. But the most violent heat is found in pitch and rosin, and yet more in sulfur, camphor, naphtha, rock oil, and salts (after the crude matter is discharged) and in their compounds, as gunpowder, Greek fire (commonly called wild fire), and its different kinds, which have so stubborn a heat that they are not easily extinguished by water.

22. I think also that the flame which results from some imperfect metals is very strong and eager. But on these points let further inquiry be made.

23. The flame of powerful lightning seems to exceed in strength all the former, for it has even been known to melt wrought iron into drops, which those other flames cannot do.

24. In ignited bodies too there are different degrees of heat, though these again have not yet been diligently examined. The weakest heat of all, I think, is that from tinder, such as we use to kindle flame with, and in like manner that of touchwood or tow, which is used in firing cannon. After this comes ignited wood or coal, and also bricks and the like heated to ignition. But of all ignited substances, the hottest, as I take it, are ignited metals, as iron, copper, etc. But these require further investigation.

25. Some ignited bodies are found to be much hotter than some flames. Ignited iron, for instance, is much hotter and more consuming than flame of spirit of wine.

26. Of substances also which are not ignited but only heated by fire, as boiling water and air confined in furnaces, some are found to exceed in heat many flames and ignited substances.

27. Motion increases heat, as you may see in bellows and by blowing, insomuch that the harder metals are not dissolved or melted by a dead or quiet fire, till it be made intense by blowing.

28. Let trial be made with burning glasses which (as I remember) act thus. If you place a burning glass at the distance of (say) a span from a combustible body, it will not burn or consume it so easily as if it were first placed at the distance of (say) half a span, and then moved gradually and slowly to the distance of the whole span. And yet the cone and union of rays are the same, but the motion itself increases the operation of the heat.

29. Fires which break out during a strong wind are thought to make greater progress against than with it because the flame recoils more violently when the wind gives way than it advances while the wind is driving it on.

30. Flame does not burst out, nor is it generated, unless some hollow space be allowed it to move and play in, except the explosive flame of gunpowder and the like where compression and imprisonment increase its fury.

31. An anvil grows very hot under the hammer, insomuch that if it were made of a thin plate it might, I suppose, with strong and continuous blows of the hammer, grow red like ignited iron. But let this be tried by experiment.

32. But in ignited substances which are porous, so as to give the fire room to move, if this motion be checked by strong compression, the fire is immediately extinguished. For instance, when tinder, or the burning wick of a candle or lamp, or even live charcoal or coal, is pressed down with an extinguisher, or with the foot, or any similar instrument, the operation of the fire instantly ceases.

33. Approximation to a hot body increases heat in proportion to the degree of approximation. And this is the case also with light, for the nearer an object is brought to the light, the more visible it becomes.

34. The union of different heats increases heat, unless the hot substances be mixed together. For a large fire and a small fire in the same room increase one another’s heat, but warm water plunged into boiling water cools it.

35. The continued application of a hot body increases heat because heat perpetually passing and emanating from it mingles with the previously existing heat, and so multiplies the heat. For a fire does not warm a room as well in half an hour as it does if continued through the whole hour. But this is not the case with light, for a lamp or candle gives no more light after it has been long lighted than it did at first.

36. Irritation by surrounding cold increases heat, as you may see in fires during a sharp frost. And this I think is owing not merely to the confinement and contraction of the heat, which is a kind of union, but also to irritation. Thus when air or a stick is violently compressed or bent, it recoils not merely to the point it was forced from, but beyond it on the other side. Let trial therefore be carefully made by putting a stick or some such thing into flame, and observing whether it is not burnt more quickly at the sides than in the middle of the flame.

37. There are many degrees in susceptibility of heat. And first of all it is to be observed how slight and faint a heat changes and somewhat warms even those bodies which are least of all susceptible to heat. Even the heat of the hand communicates some heat to a ball of lead or any metal, if held in it a little while. So readily and so universally is heat transmitted and excited, the body remaining to all appearance unchanged.

38. Of all substances that we are acquainted with, the one which more readily receives and loses heat is air, as is best seen in calendar glasses [air thermoscopes], which are made thus: Take a glass with a hollow belly, a thin and oblong neck, turn it upside down and lower it with the mouth downwards and the belly upwards into another glass vessel containing water and let the mouth of the inserted vessel touch the bottom of the receiving vessel, and its neck lean slightly against the mouth of the other, so that it can stand. And that this may be done more conveniently, apply a little wax to the mouth of the receiving glass, but not so as to seal its mouth quite up, in order that the motion of which we are going to speak, and which is very facile and delicate, may not be impeded by want of a supply of air.

The lowered glass, before being inserted into the other, must be heated before a fire in its upper part, that is its belly. Now when it is placed in the position I have described, the air which was dilated by the heat will, after a lapse of time sufficient to allow for the extinction of that adventitious heat, withdraw and contract itself to the same extension or dimension as that of the surrounding air at the time of the immersion of the glass and will draw the water upwards to a corresponding height. To the side of the glass there should be affixed a strip of paper, narrow and oblong, and marked with as many degrees as you choose. You will then see, according as the day is warm or cold, that the air contracts under the action of cold, and expands under the action of heat—as will be seen by the water rising when the air contracts and sinking when it dilates. But the air’s sense of heat and cold is so subtle and exquisite as far to exceed the perception of the human touch, insomuch that a ray of sunshine, or the heat of the breath, much more the heat of one’s hand placed on top of the glass, will cause the water immediately to sink in a perceptible degree. And yet I think that animal spirits have a sense of heat and cold more exquisite still, were it not that it is impeded and deadened by the grossness of the body.

39. Next to air, I take those bodies to be most sensitive to heat which have been recently changed and compressed by cold, as snow and ice, for they begin to dissolve and melt with any gentle heat. Next to them, perhaps, comes quicksilver. After that follow greasy substances, as oil, butter, and the like, then comes wood, then water, and lastly stones and metals, which are slow to heat, especially in the inside. These, however, when once they have acquired heat retain it very long, insomuch that an ignited brick, stone, or piece of iron, when plunged into a basin of water, will remain for a quarter of an hour, or thereabouts, so hot that you cannot touch it.

40. The less the mass of a body, the sooner is it heated by the approach of a hot body, which shows that all heat of which we have experience is in some sort opposed to tangible matter.

41. Heat, as far as regards the sense and touch of man, is a thing various and relative, insomuch that tepid water feels hot if the hand be cold, but cold if the hand be hot.

14

How poor we are in history any one may see from the foregoing tables where I not only insert sometimes mere traditions and reports (though never without a note of doubtful credit and authority) in place of history proved and instances certain, but am also frequently forced to use the words “Let trial be made,” or “Let it be further inquired.”

15

The work and office of these three tables I call the Presentation of Instances to the Understanding. Which presentation having been made, Induction itself must be set at work, for the problem is, upon a review of the instances, all and each, to find such a nature as is always present or absent with the given nature, and always increases and decreases with it, and which is, as I have said, a particular case of a more general nature. Now if the mind attempt this affirmatively from the first, as when left to itself it is always wont to do, the result will be fancies and guesses and notions ill defined, and axioms that must be mended every day (unless like the schoolmen we have a mind to fight for what is false), though doubtless these will be better or worse according to the faculties and strength of the understanding which is at work. To God, truly, the Giver and Architect of Forms, and it may be to the angels and higher intelligences, it belongs to have an affirmative knowledge of Forms immediately and from the first contemplation. But this assuredly is more than man can do, to whom it is granted only to proceed at first by negatives and at last to end in affirmatives, after exclusion has been exhausted.

16

We must make, therefore, a complete solution and separation of nature, not indeed by fire, but by the mind, which is a kind of divine fire. The first work therefore of true Induction (as far as regards the discovery of Forms) is the rejection or exclusion of the several natures which are not found in some instance where the given nature is present, or are found in some instance where the given nature is absent or are found to increase in some instance when the given nature decreases, or to decrease when the given nature increases. Then indeed after the rejection and exclusion has been duly made, there will remain at the bottom (all light opinions vanishing into smoke) a Form affirmative, solid, and true and well defined. This is quickly said, but the way to come at it is winding and intricate. I will endeavor, however, not to overlook any of the points which may help us towards it.

17

But when I assign so prominent a part to Forms, I cannot too often warn and admonish men against applying what I say to those forms to which their thoughts and contemplations have hitherto been accustomed.

For in the first place I do not at present speak of Compound Forms, which are, as I have remarked, combinations of simple natures according to the common course of the universe, as of the lion, eagle, rose, gold, and the like. It will be time to treat of these when we come to the Latent Processes and Latent Configurations, and the discovery of them, as they are found in what are called substances or natures concrete.

And even in the case of simple natures I would not be understood to speak of abstract forms and ideas, either not defined in matter at all, or ill defined. For when I speak of Forms, I mean nothing more than those laws and determinations of absolute actuality, which govern and constitute any simple nature, as heat, light, weight, in every kind of matter and subject that is susceptible of them. Thus the Form of Heat or the Form of Light is the same thing as the Law of Heat or the Law of Light. Nor indeed do I ever allow myself to be drawn away from things themselves and the operative part. And therefore when I say (for instance) in the investigation of the Form of heat, “reject rarity,” or “rarity does not belong to the Form of heat,” it is the same as if I said, “It is possible to superinduce heat on a dense body,” or “It is possible to take away or keep out heat from a rare body.”

But if anyone conceive that my Forms too are of a somewhat abstract nature, because they mix and combine things heterogeneous (for the heat of heavenly bodies and the heat of fire seem to be very heterogeneous; so do the fixed red of the rose or the like, and the apparent red in the rainbow, the opal or the diamond; so again do the different kinds of death: death by drowning, by hanging, by stabbing, by apoplexy, by atrophy, and yet they agree severally in the nature of heat, redness, death), if any one, I say, be of this opinion, he may be assured that his mind is held in captivity by custom, by the gross appearance of things, and by men’s opinions. For it is most certain that these things, however heterogeneous and alien from each other, agree in the Form or Law which governs heat, redness and death. And that the power of man cannot possibly be emancipated and freed from the common course of nature, and expanded and exalted to new efficients and new modes of operation except by the revelation and discovery of Forms of this kind. And yet, when I have spoken of this union of nature, which is the point of most importance, I shall proceed to the divisions and veins of nature, as well the ordinary as those that are more inward and exact, and speak of them in their place.

18

I must now give an example of the Exclusion or Rejection of natures which by the Tables of Presentation are found not to belong to the Form of heat, observing in the meantime that not only each table suffices for the rejection of any nature, but even any one of the particular instances contained in any of the tables. For it is manifest from what has been said that any one contradictory instance overthrows a conjecture as to the Form. But nevertheless for clearness’ sake and that the use of the tables may be more plainly shown, I sometimes double or multiply an exclusion.

An Example of Exclusion or Rejection
of Natures from the Form of Heat

1. On account of the rays of the sun, reject the nature of the elements.

2. On account of the common fire, and chiefly subterraneous fires (which are the most remote and most completely separate from the rays of heavenly bodies), reject the nature of heavenly bodies.

3. On account of the warmth acquired by all kinds of bodies (minerals, vegetables, skin of animals, water, oil, air, and the rest) by mere approach to a fire, or other hot body, reject the distinctive or more subtle texture of bodies.

4. On account of ignited iron and other metals, which communicate heat to other bodies and yet lose none of their weight or substance, reject the communication or admixture of the substance of another hot body.

5. On account of boiling water and air, and also on account of metals and other solids that receive heat but not to ignition or red heat, reject light or brightness.

6. On account of the rays of the moon and other heavenly bodies, with the exception of the sun, also reject light and brightness.

7. By a comparison of ignited iron and the flame of spirit of wine (of which ignited iron has more heat and less brightness, while the flame of spirit of wine has more brightness and less heat), also reject light and brightness.

8. On account of ignited gold and other metals, which are of the greatest density as a whole, reject rarity.

9. On account of air, which is found for the most part cold and yet remains rare, also reject rarity.

10. On account of ignited iron, which does not swell in bulk, but keeps within the same visible dimensions, reject local of expansive motion of the body as a whole.

11. On account of the dilation of air in calendar glasses and the like wherein the air evidently moves locally and expansively and yet acquires no manifest increase of heat, also reject local or expansive motion of the body as a whole.

12. On account of the ease with which all bodies are heated, without any destruction or observable alteration, reject a destructive nature, or the violent communication of any new nature.

13. On account of the agreement and conformity of the similar effects which are wrought by heat and cold, reject motion of the body as a whole, whether expansive or contractive.

14. On account of heat being kindled by the attrition of bodies, reject a principial nature. By principial nature I mean that which exists in the nature of things positively, and not as the effect of any antecedent nature.

There are other natures beside these; for these tables are not perfect, but meant only for examples.

All and each of the above mentioned natures do not belong to the Form of Heat. And from all of them man is freed in his operations on heat.

19

In the process of Exclusion are laid the foundations of true Induction, which, however, is not completed till it arrives at an Affirmative. Nor is the Exclusive part itself at all complete, nor indeed can it possibly be so at first. For Exclusion is evidently the rejection of simple natures; and if we do not yet possess sound and true notions of simple natures, how can the process of Exclusion be made accurate? Now some of the above mentioned notions (as that of the nature of the elements, of the nature of heavenly bodies, of rarity) are vague and ill defined. I therefore, well knowing and nowise forgetting how great a work I am about (namely, that of rendering the human understanding a match for things and nature), do not rest satisfied with the precepts I have laid down, but proceed further to devise and supply more powerful aids for the use of the understanding, which I shall now subjoin. And assuredly in the Interpretation of Nature the mind should by all means be so prepared and disposed, that while it rests and finds footing in due stages and degrees of certainty, it may remember withal (especially at the beginning) that what it has before it depends in great measure upon what remains behind.

20

And yet since truth will sooner come out from error than from confusion, I think it expedient that the understanding should have permission, after the three Tables of First Presentation (such as I have exhibited) have been made and weighed, to make an essay of the Interpretation of Nature in the affirmative way; on the strength both of the instances given in the tables, and of any others it may meet with elsewhere. Which kind of essay I call the Indulgence of the Understanding, or the Commencement of Interpretation, or the First Vintage.

First Vintage concerning the Form of Heat

It is to be observed that the Form of a thing is to be found (as plainly appears from what has been said) in each and all the instances, in which the thing itself is to be found; otherwise it would not be the Form. It follows therefore that there can be no contradictory instance. At the same time the Form is found much more conspicuous and evident in some instances than in others, namely in those wherein the nature of the Form is less restrained and obstructed and kept within bounds by other natures. Instances of this kind I call Shining or Striking Instances [see aphorism 24 later]. Let us now, therefore, proceed to the First Vintage concerning the Form of Heat.

From a survey of the instances, all and each, the nature of which Heat is a particular case, appears to be Motion. This is displayed most conspicuously in flame, which is always in motion, and in boiling or simmering liquids, which also are in perpetual motion. It is also shown in the excitement or increase of heat caused by motion, as in bellows and blasts, on which see Table 3, Instance 29; and again in other kinds of motion, on which see Table 3, Instances 28 and 31. Again it is shown in the extinction of fire and heat by any strong compression, which checks and stops the motion, on which see Table 3, Instances 30 and 32. It is shown also by this, that all bodies are destroyed, or at any rate notably altered, by all strong and vehement fire and heat, whence it is quite clear that heat causes a tumult and confusion and violent motion in the internal parts of a body, which perceptibly tends to its dissolution.

When I say of Motion that it is as the genus of which Heat is a species, I would be understood to mean, not that heat generates motion or that motion generates heat (though both are true in certain cases), but that Heat itself, its essence and quiddity, is Motion and nothing else; limited however by the specific differences which I will presently subjoin as soon as I have added a few cautions for the sake of avoiding ambiguity.

Sensible heat is a relative notion, and has relation to man, not to the universe, and is correctly defined as merely the effect of heat on the animal spirits. Moreover, in itself it is variable, since the same body, according as the senses are predisposed, induces a perception of cold as well as of heat. This is clear from Instance 41, Table 3.

Nor again must the communication of heat, or its transitive nature, by means of which a body becomes hot when a hot body is applied to it, be confounded with the Form of Heat. For heat is one thing, heating another. Heat is produced by the motion of attrition without any preceding heat, an instance which excludes heating from the Form of Heat. And even when heat is produced by the approach of a hot body, this does not proceed from the Form of Heat, but depends entirely on a higher and more general nature, namely, on the nature of assimilation or self multiplication, a subject which requires a separate inquiry.

Again, our notion of fire is popular, and of no use; being made up of the combination in any body of heat and brightness, as in common flame and bodies heated to redness.

Having thus removed all ambiguity, I come at length to the true specific differences which limit Motion and constitute it the Form of Heat.

The first difference then is this. Heat is an expansive motion, whereby a body strives to dilate and stretch itself to a larger sphere or dimension than it had previously occupied. This difference is most observable in flame, where the smoke or thick vapor manifestly dilates and expands itself into flame.

It is shown also in all boiling liquid, which manifestly swells, rises, and bubbles, and carries on the process of self expansion till it turns into a body far more extended and dilated than the liquid itself, namely into vapor, smoke, or air.

It appears likewise in all wood and combustibles, from which there generally arises exudation and always evaporation.

It is shown also in the melting of metals, which, being of the most compact texture, do not readily swell and dilate, but yet their spirit being dilated in itself, and thereupon conceiving an appetite for further dilation, forces and agitates the grosser parts into a liquid state. And if the heat be greatly increased it dissolves and turns much of their substance to a volatile state.

It is shown also in iron or stones, which, though not melted or dissolved, are yet softened. This is the case also with sticks, which when slightly heated in hot ashes become flexible.

But this kind of motion is best seen in air, which continuously and manifestly dilates with a slight heat, as appears in Instance 38, Table 3.

It is shown also in the opposite nature of cold. For cold contracts all bodies and makes them shrink; insomuch that in intense frosts nails fall out from walls, brazen vessels crack, and heated glass on being suddenly placed in the cold cracks and breaks. In like manner air is contracted by a slight chill, as in Instance 38, Table 3. But on these points I shall speak more at length in the inquiry concerning Cold.

Nor is it surprising that heat and cold should exhibit many actions in common (for which see Instance 32, Table 2), when we find two of the following specific differences (of which I shall speak presently) suiting either nature, though in this specific difference (of which I am now speaking) their actions are diametrically opposite. For heat gives an expansive and dilating, cold a contractive and condensing motion.

The second difference is a modification of the former, namely, that heat is a motion expansive or towards the circumference, but with this condition, that the body has at the same time a motion upwards. For there is no doubt that there are many mixed motions. For instance, an arrow or dart turns as it goes forward, and goes forward as it turns. And in like manner the motion of heat is at once motion of expansion and a motion upwards. This difference is shown by putting a pair of tongs or a poker in the fire. If you put it in perpendicularly and hold it by the top, it soon burns your hand, if at the side or from below, not nearly so soon.

It is also observable in distillations per descensorium, which men use for delicate flowers that soon lose their scent. For human industry has discovered the plan of placing the fire not below but above, that it may burn the less. For not only flame tends upwards but also all heat.

But let trial be made of this in the opposite nature of cold, namely, whether cold does not contract a body downwards, as heat dilates a body upwards. Take therefore two iron rods, or two glass tubes, exactly alike. Warm them a little, and place a sponge steeped in cold water or snow at the bottom of the one and the same at the top of the other. For I think that the extremities of the rod which has the snow at the top will cool sooner than the extremities of the other which has the snow at the bottom, just as the opposite is the case with heat.

The third specific difference is this: that heat is a motion of expansion, not uniformly of the whole body together, but in the smaller parts of it and at the same time checked, repelled, and beaten back so that the body acquires a motion alternative, perpetually quivering, striving and struggling, and irritated by repercussion, whence springs the fury of fire and heat.

This specific difference is most displayed in flame and boiling liquids, which are perpetually quivering and swelling in small portions and again subsiding.

It is also shown in those bodies which are so compact that when heated or ignited they do not swell or expand in bulk, as ignited iron, in which the heat is very sharp.

It is shown also in this, that a fire burns most briskly in the coldest weather.

Again, it is shown in this, that when the air is extended in a calendar glass without impediment or repulsion—that is to say, uniformly and equably—there is no perceptible heat. Also when wind escapes from confinement, although it burst forth with the greatest violence, there is no very great heat perceptible because the motion is of the whole, without a motion alternating in the particles. And with a view to this, let trial be made whether flame does not burn more sharply towards the sides than in the middle of the flame.

It is also shown in this, that all burning acts on minute pores of the body burnt, so that burning undermines, penetrates, pricks, and stings the body like the points of an infinite number of needles. It is also an effect of this that all strong waters (if suited to the body on which they are acting) act as fire does, in consequence of their corroding and pungent nature.

And this specific difference (of which I am now speaking) is common also to the nature of cold, for in cold the contractive motion is checked by a resisting tendency to expand, just as in heat the expansive motion is checked by a resisting tendency to contract. Thus, whether the particles of a body work inward or outward, the mode of action is the same, though the degree of strength be very different because we have not here on the surface of the earth anything that is intensely cold. See Instance 27, Table 1.

The fourth specific difference is a modification of the last. It is, that the preceding motion of stimulation or penetration must be somewhat rapid and not sluggish, and must proceed by particles, minute indeed, yet not the finest of all, but a degree larger.

This difference is shown by a comparison of the effects of fire with the effects of time or age. Age or time dries, consumes, undermines and reduces to ashes, no less than fire—indeed, with an action far more subtle—but because such motion is very sluggish, and acts on particles very small, the heat is not perceived.

It is also shown by comparing the dissolution of iron and gold. Gold is dissolved without any heat being excited, while the dissolution of iron is accompanied by a violent heat, though it takes place in about the same time. The reason is that in gold the separating acid enters gently and works with subtlety, and the parts of the gold yield easily whereas in iron the entrance is rough and with conflict, and the parts of the iron have greater obstinacy.

It is shown also to some degree in some gangrenes and mortifications, which do not excite great heat or pain on account of the subtle nature of putrefaction.

Let this then be the First Vintage or Commencement of Interpretation concerning the Form of Heat, made by way of indulgence of the understanding.

Now from this our First Vintage it follows that the Form or true definition of heat (heat, that is, in relation to the universe, not simply in relation to man) is in a few words as follows: Heat is a motion, expansive, restrained, and acting in its strife upon the smaller particles of bodies. But the expansion is thus modified: while it expands all ways, it has at the same time an inclination upwards. And the struggle in the particles is modified also: it is not sluggish, but hurried and with violence.

Viewed with reference to operation it is the same thing. For the direction is this: if in any natural body you can excite a dilating or expanding motion, and can so repress this motion and turn it back upon itself, that the dilation shall not proceed equably, but have its way in one part and be counteracted in another, you will undoubtedly generate heat; without taking into account whether the body be elementary (as it is called) or subject to celestial influence; whether it be luminous or opaque; rare or dense; locally expanded or confined within the bounds of its first dimension; verging to dissolution or remaining in its original state; animal, vegetable, or mineral, water, oil or air, or any other substance whatever susceptible of the above mentioned motion. Sensible heat is the same thing; only it must be considered with reference to the sense. Let us now proceed to further aids.

21

The Tables of First Presentation and the Rejection or process of Exclusion being completed, and also the First Vintage being made thereupon, we are to proceed to the other helps of the understanding in the Interpretation of Nature and true and perfect Induction. In propounding which, I mean, when Tables are necessary, to proceed upon the Instances of Heat and Cold, but when a smaller number of examples will suffice, I shall proceed at large, so that the inquiry may be kept clear, and yet more room be left for the exposition of the system.

I propose to treat, then, in the first place, of Prerogative Instances; secondly, of the Supports of Induction; thirdly, of the Rectification of Induction; fourthly, of Varying the Investigation according to the Nature of the Subject; fifthly, of Prerogative Natures with respect to Investigation, or of what should be inquired first and what last; sixthly, of the Limits of Investigation, or a Synopsis of all Natures in the Universe; seventhly, of the Application to Practice, or of things in their relation to man; eighthly, of Preparations for Investigation; and lastly, of the Ascending and Descending Scale of Axioms.

[The remainder of Book Two is concerned exclusively with the Prerogative Instances. Bacon devotes twenty seven aphorisms to an extensive account of the different types of instances, individually named, all of which are designed to aid the investigation into the Forms, or natures, of the qualities of bodies. Each instance is listed here by aphorism number, together with a condensed description using Bacon’s examples as well as his terms and phrases when possible. Aphorisms 32, 38, 44, and 52, which provide more general discussions of the instances, are given in full here.]

22

[1. Solitary Instances To aid the “process of exclusion,” one should locate bodies that either have nothing in common except one quality or have everything in common except that quality. For example, when investigating the nature of color, prisms are unique in that they exhibit color but differ from other bodies such as flowers that have their color “fixed” and thus can be used to show that color “is nothing more than a modification of the image of light received upon the object.” On the other hand, the veins of white and black in variegated marble and the spots of white and pink in variegated flowers “agree in everything almost except the color. From which we easily gather that color has little to do with the intrinsic nature of a body.”]

23

[2. Migratory Instances Instances where the nature in question is either in the process of being produced in a body or is disappearing from a body. For example, in the investigation of the nature of “whiteness,” glass when pounded and water when agitated are transformed from transparent bodies to white bodies, which can show that the color of a body depends upon its texture.]

24

[3. Striking Instances, also called Shining Instances or Instances Freed and Predominant Instances that exhibit the nature under investigation “naked and standing by itself, and also in its exaltation or highest degree of power.” For example, to show that the “motion of expansion … is the main element in the Form of Heat,” the calendar glass experiment (described earlier in aphorism 13, as Instance 38 of Table 3) provides a striking instance because it displays the expansion of air better than do the cases of flame or boiling water or ignited iron.]

25

[4. Clandestine Instances or Instances of the Twilight Nearly the opposite of Striking Instances, these “exhibit the nature under investigation in its lowest degree of power” and can be used to discover latent natures. For example, in the investigation of attraction, the Striking Instance would be the magnet, and the contrary nature, that of nonattraction, would be exhibited in cases of similar substances such as “iron which does not attract iron.” A Clandestine Instance would be “the iron in an armed magnet,” which, when brought into direct contact with iron, “supports a far greater weight of iron than a simple and unarmed magnet, … an operation altogether clandestine and latent in the iron before the magnet was applied.”]

26

[5. Constitutive Instances or Manipular Instances Instances designed for the discovery of “lesser forms,” that is, those natures that are common to certain groups of cases. Constitutive instances are “of much use in the forming of definitions” and might also “pave the way” for the “discovery of the great Form.” For example, in the investigation of the nature of memory, there are “six Lesser Forms of aids to the memory: namely, the cutting off of infinity, the reduction of the intellectual to the sensible, impression made on the mind in a state of strong emotion, impression made on the mind disengaged, multitude of points to take hold of, and expectation beforehand.”]

27

[6. Instances Conformable or of Analogy, also called Parallels or Physical Resemblances Instances that “simply point out and mark a certain agreement in bodies,” which are “of little use for the discovery of Forms” but can lead to the discovery of axioms “which relate to the configuration of the world.” For example, the resemblances between a mirror and the eye or the ear and places with an echo, suggest the axiom that “the organs of the senses and bodies which produce reflections to the senses are of a like nature.” Other analogies, between the parts of plants and animals, for example, show how investigating such resemblances can be used to “detect the unity of nature, and lay a foundation for the constitution of sciences.”]

28

[7. Singular Instances, or Irregular or Heteroclite Instances Instances that exhibit bodies “not agreeing with other bodies of the same kind,” for example, “the magnet among stones, quicksilver among metals.” The use of these instances is “to sharpen and quicken investigation, and help to cure the understanding depraved by custom and the common course of things.”]

29

[8. Deviating Instances Unlike Singular Instances that concern “prodigies of species,” these examine cases in which “nature deviates and turns aside from her ordinary course” and produces individual oddities. Deviating Instances “correct the erroneous impressions suggested” by the common course of nature, as do Singular Instances, but they are of more help to practice because it is “an easy passage from miracles of nature to miracles of art,” once the cause of the deviation has been discovered. “Under this head there is no need of examples—they are so plentiful.”]

30

[9. Bordering Instances or Participles Instances where bodies “seem to be composed of two species, or to be rudiments between one species and another,” for example, “flying fish, between birds and fish; bats, between birds and quadrupeds.” These are similar to Singular Instances but differ by their usefulness for “indicating the composition and structure of things, … and carrying on the understanding from that which is to that which may be.”]

31

[10. Instances of Power, or of the Fasces, also called Instances of the Wit, or Hands of Man A list of the “great and masterly and most perfect works” in the mechanical and liberal arts should be compiled “because starting from them we shall find an easier and nearer passage to new works” and also because the mind will be “excited and raised to the investigation and discovery of Forms capable of including them.” But “we must use the utmost caution” not to be astonished by such works and think that nothing better can be done. Among these instances are included rarities as well as things in common use, such as paper, and “conjuring tricks” that are trivial in use but may have informational value.]

32

From what has been said, it is clear that the five classes of instances last mentioned (namely, instances Conformable, Singular, Deviating, Bordering, and of Power) ought not to be reserved until some certain nature be in question (as the other instances which I have placed first, and most of those that are to follow should), but a collection of them must be begun at once, as a sort of particular history, because they serve to digest the matters that enter the understanding, and to correct the ill complexion of the understanding itself, which cannot but be tinged and infected, and at length perverted and distorted, by daily and habitual impressions.

These instances, therefore, should be employed as a sort of preparative for setting right and purging the understanding. For whatever withdraws the understanding from the things to which it is accustomed, smoothes and levels its surface for the reception of the dry and pure light of true ideas.

Moreover, such instances pave and prepare the way for the operative part, as will be shown in the proper place, when I come to speak of deductions leading to Practice.

33

[11. Instances of Companionship and of Enmity, also called Instances of Fixed Propositions Instances in which a body always (or with rare exceptions) exhibits the nature being investigated, or never exhibits the nature. For example, in most substances, “heat is variable and may come and go, but all flame is hot,” therefore, flame is an Instance of Companionship concerning the nature of heat. An Instance of Enmity can be found in the investigation of the nature of consistency. Most substances, such as metal, may be fluid as well as consistent, but “it is impossible that air should ever be consistent, or put off its fluidity.”]

34

[12. Subjunctive Instances, also called Instances of Ultimity or Limit A compilation of those bodies that indicate what the limits of nature are and how far “nature may act or be acted upon.” Examples of such bodies are “gold in weight, iron in hardness, the whale in animal bulk” as the highest extremes; and “spirit of wine in weight, silk in softness” as the lowest extremes.]

35

[13. Instances of Alliance or Union Instances of bodies that “mingle and unite natures supposed to be heterogeneous.” For example, according to received doctrine, there were three kinds of heat (of heavenly bodies, of animals, and of fire) said to be “in their specific nature distinct and heterogeneous.” Whereas the heat of the sun “generates,” the heat of fire “destroys.” An Instance of Alliance would be the case of bringing a branch of a grape vine into a building with a constant fire and having the fruit ripen to show that ripening “may be brought about by fire, though such ripening would seem to be the proper work of the sun.” Such an instance would lead one to reject “the notion of essential heterogeneity.” Other examples of Instances of Alliance are drawn from the investigation of the nature of motion, weight, reasoning ability, and visibility.]

36

[14. Instances of the Fingerpost, also called Decisive and Judicial or Oracular and Commanding Instances Because of the historical significance of the Instance of the Fingerpost, the first and last paragraphs of Bacon’s discussion are given in full. A list of the extensive examples that Bacon used to illustrate this Instance is also provided.]

Among Prerogative Instances I will put in the fourteenth place Instances of the Fingerpost [instantia crucis]; borrowing the term from the fingerposts which are set up where roads part, to indicate the several directions. These I also call Decisive and Judicial, and in some cases, Oracular and Commanding Instances. I explain them thus. When in the investigation of any nature the understanding is so balanced as to be uncertain to which of two or more natures the cause of the nature in question should be assigned, on account of the frequent and ordinary concurrence of many natures, Instances of the Fingerpost show the union of one of the natures with the nature in question to be sure and indissoluble, of the other to be varied and separable; and thus the question is decided, and the former nature is admitted as the cause, while the latter is dismissed and rejected. Such instances afford very great light, and are of high authority, the course of interpretation sometimes ending in them and being completed. Sometimes these Instances of the Fingerpost meet us accidentally among those already noticed but for the most part they are new and are expressly and designedly sought for and applied, and discovered only by earnest and active diligence.

[Examples are provided of the types of experiments and observations that could be designed to settle questions about (1) what is the cause of the “ebb and flow of the sea”; (2) whether the “contrary motion to the Diurnal” (the retrograde motion of some planets) “be a real motion of rotation in the heavenly bodies, or a motion apparent in the heavenly bodies, and real in the earth”; (3) what is the cause of gravity; (4) what is the cause of the polarity of an iron needle when touched with a magnet; (5) whether the substance of the moon is “a rare body consisting of flame or air” or a “dense and solid body”; (6) what is the cause of “the motion of projectiles—darts, arrows, balls, etc.—through the air”; (7) what is the cause of the “rapid and powerful motion of the expansion of gunpowder into flame”; (8) what is the cause of “the transitory nature of flame and its momentaneous extinction.]

Let this suffice for Instances of the Fingerpost. I have dwelt on them at some length, to the end that men may gradually learn and accustom themselves to judge of nature by Instances of the Fingerpost and Experiments of Light, and not by probable reasonings.

37

[15. Instances of Divorce Instances that “indicate the separation of one nature from another” and that thus serve to “detect false Forms.” For example, in opposition to the theory that the natures of heat, brightness, rarity, and mobility are always found together, an Instance of Divorce could refer to air that “is rare and mobile, not hot or bright” or to boiling water that “is hot without light.”]

38

Now follow five classes of instances which under one general name I call Instances of the Lamp, or of First Information. They are those which aid the senses. For since all Interpretation of Nature commences with the senses, and lead from the perceptions of the senses by a straight, regular, and guarded path to the perceptions of the understanding, which are true notions and axioms, it follows of necessity that the more copious and exact the representations of the senses, the more easily and prosperously will everything proceed.

Of these five Instances of the Lamp, the first strengthen, enlarge, and rectify the immediate actions of the senses; the second make manifest things which are not directly perceptible by means of others which are; the third indicate the continued processes or series of those things and motions which are for the most part unobserved except in their end or periods; the fourth provide the sense with some substitute when it utterly fails; the fifth excite the attention and notice of the sense, and at the same time set bounds to the subtlety of things. Of these I shall now speak in their order.

39

[16. Instances of the Door or Gate Instances that aid the sense of sight to “perceive objects that are not visible, to perceive them further off, and to perceive them more exactly and distinctly.” An example of the first instance, the microscope, “is only available for minute objects,” but “if it could be extended to larger bodies so that … the latent minutiae and inequalities of gems, liquors, urine, blood, wounds, etc. could be distinguished, great advantages might doubtless be derived.” An instance of the second type, the telescope, has led to some “noble discoveries,” but investigation had stopped “with these few discoveries, and many other things equally worthy of investigation are not discovered by the same means.” Among instances of “the third kind are measuring rods, astrolabes, and the like, which do not enlarge the sense of sight but merely rectify and direct it.”]

40

[17. Summoning Instances or Evoking Instances Instances that “summon objects to appear which have not appeared before.” There are seven ways that an “object escapes the senses.” Among them are “objects that are concealed by the interposition of bodies within which they are enclosed,” that may be made known by the exterior state of the object, as the “condition of the human body” can be known by “the state of the pulse.” In other examples, the rarity or density of bodies can be “made manifest to the sense by means of weight,” and heat or cold that is “in a degree too weak to be perceptible to the sense” can be detected by the use of a calendar glass.]

41

[18. Instances of the Road, also called Traveling Instances and Articulate Instances Instances that “escape the observation rather than the sense.” For example, in the investigation of the “vegetation of plants, we must begin from the very sowing of the seed, and observe … how and when the seed begins to puff and swell and to burst the skin and put forth fibers, at the same time raising itself slightly upwards.” This is a “sort of night watch over nature, as showing herself better by night than by day.”]

42

[19. Supplementary or Substitutive Instances, also called Instances of Refuge The use of “gradual approximation” or “analogy” to compile instances when “the senses entirely fail us.” For example, in the investigation of whether pneumatic bodies are “incorporated together” or whether some “do not mix with common air, but remain suspended and floating therein,” a Substitutive Instance would be provided by an analogy with the case of “dust raised and floating in the air” where “no incorporation takes place.” These instances are not only useful as a “last resource” but are “also of great use, even when proper instances are at hand, for … corroborating the information which the others supply.”]

43

[20. Dissecting Instances or Awakening Instances These instances “dissect nature” and “awaken the understanding” by reminding “the understanding of the wonderful and exquisite subtlety of nature.” Among the examples are “that light and color pass through the solid substances of glass and water so speedily, and in so wide an extent, and with such copious and exquisite variety of images, and are also refracted and reflected”; and “that the magnet acts through bodies of all sorts, even the most compact.” Subjoined to these instances should be “Limits of Dissection,” concerning how actions may be overpowered by “another action of the same kind, as the light of the sun extinguishes that of a glowworm.”]

44

So much for instances which aid the sense; instances which are chiefly useful for the Informative Part of our subject. For information commences with the senses. But the whole business terminates in Works, and as the former is the beginning, so the latter is the end of the matter. I will proceed therefore with the instances which are preeminently useful for the Operative Part. They are of two kinds, and seven in number, though I call them all by the general name of Practical Instances. In the Operative Part there are two defects, and two corresponding prerogatives of instances. For operation either fails us or it overtasks us. The chief cause of failure in operation (especially after natures have been diligently investigated) is the ill determination and measurement of the forces and actions of bodies. Now the forces and actions of bodies are circumscribed and measured, either by distances of space, or by moments of time, or by concentration of quantity, or by predominance of virtue; and unless these four things have been well and carefully weighed, we shall have sciences, fair perhaps in theory, but in practice inefficient. The four instances which are useful in this point of view I class under one head as Mathematical Instances and Instances of Measurement.

Operation comes to overtask us either through the admixture of useless matters, or through the multiplicity of instruments, or through the bulk of the material and of the bodies that may happen to be required for any particular work. Those instances, therefore, ought to be valued which either direct practice to the objects most useful to mankind, or which save instruments, or which spare material and provision. The three instances which serve us here I class together as Propitious or Benevolent Instances. These seven instances I will now discuss separately, and with them conclude that division of my subject which relates to the Prerogatives or Rank of Instances.

45

[21. Instances of the Rod or Rule, also called Instances of Range or of Limitation Instances designed to “ascertain and observe” the “finite and fixed” distances required for the powers and motions of things to act. Most powers act only by contact, some act at a small distance as the magnet does, and others “operate at very great distances,” such as the effect that the moon has on the tides or “the radiations of light and impressions of sound.” It is necessary to determine the limits of distance required for a power to act in order to reproduce the effect in practice.]

46

[22. Instances of the Course or Instances of the Water Instances designed to measure periods of time, which are also “determined and fixed” in all natural action, such as the revolutions of heavenly bodies. Comparative measures must also be made. For example, “the flash of a gun is seen sooner than its report is heard” because the motion of light is “more rapid than that of sound.”]

47

[23. Instances of Quantity or Doses of Nature Instances designed to “measure virtues according to the quantity of the bodies in which they subsist, and how far the mode of the virtue depends upon the quantity of the body.” For example, “large quantities of water corrupt slowly, small ones quickly. Wine and beer ripen and become fit to drink much more quickly in bottles than in casks.” These measures “must be sought from experiment” because conjectures can be misleading, such as the one that supposed that “if a bullet of an ounce weight falls to the ground in a given time, a bullet of two ounces ought to fall twice as quickly.”]

48

[24. Instances of Strife or Instances of Predominance Instances designed to measure which virtues or motions of bodies are stronger and which weaker. There are nineteen “species of simple elements of motions, appetites, and active virtues, which are in nature most general” (Resistance, Connection, Liberty, Matter, Continuity, Gain, Greater Congregation, Lesser Congregation, Magnetic, Flight, Assimilation, Excitation, Impression, Configuration, Transition, Political, Spontaneous Motion of Rotation, Trepidation, and Repose). There may be others as well, but “these will suffice, and be of good service in weighing the Predominancies of Virtues.” Resistance is a motion that is invincible; “as for the other motions, they rule and are ruled in turn, in proportion to their vigor, quantity, velocity, force of projection, and also to the helps and hindrances they meet with.” For example, “leather stretches to a certain extent without breaking, so far does the motion of continuity prevail over the motion of tension, but if the tension be increased, the leather breaks and the motion of continuity is overcome.”]

49

[25. Intimating Instances Instances that “point out what is useful to man.” This discussion belongs more properly to the division concerned with “Applications to Practice” (see aphorism 21 above where this title is listed as the seventh help for induction). Thus, no examples are given, but the Instance is mentioned here because “to form judicious wishes is as much a part of knowledge as to ask judicious questions.”]

50

[26. Polychrest Instances or Instances of General Use Instances that “relate to a variety of cases and occur frequently and, therefore, save no small amount of labor and fresh demonstration.” There are seven chief ways that “man operates upon natural bodies.” In addition to simple analysis and synthesis, these are “by exclusion of whatever impedes and disturbs; or by compressions, extensions, agitations, and the like; or by heat and cold; or by continuance in a suitable place; or by the checking and regulation of motion; or by special sympathies; or by the seasonable and proper alternation, series, and succession of all these ways, or at any rate of some of them.” Instances are to be compiled of the seven types of operations as they occur in art and in nature, and observations and experiments are to be made to increase such operational knowledge. For example, concerning the third type of operation, “all natural condensations caused by cold should be investigated in order that, their causes being known, they may be imitated by art. Such we see in the sweating of marble and stones; in the dews condensed on the inside of window panes, towards morning, after a night’s frost; in the formation and gathering of vapors into water under the earth, from which springs often bubble up. Everything of this kind should be collected.”]

51

[27. Instances of Magic Instances where “the material or efficient cause is scanty or small, as compared with the work and effect produced, so that, even where they are common, they seem like miracles.” These effects are produced three ways: “either by self-multiplication, as in fire, and in poisons called specific,” or “by excitation or invitation in another body, as in the magnet,” or “by anticipation of motion” as in the case of “gunpowder and cannons and mines.”]

52

So much then for the Dignities or Prerogatives of Instances. It must be remembered however that in this Organon of mine I am handling logic, not philosophy. But since my logic aims to teach and instruct the understanding, not that it may with the slender tendrils of the mind snatch at and lay hold of abstract notions (as the common logic does), but that it may in very truth dissect nature, and discover the virtues and actions of bodies, with their laws as determined in matter, so that this science flows not merely from the nature of the mind, but also from the nature of things, no wonder that it is everywhere sprinkled and illustrated with speculations and experiments in nature, as examples of the art I teach.

It appears then from what has been said that there are twenty-seven Prerogative Instances, namely: Solitary Instances, Migratory Instances, Striking Instances, Clandestine Instances, Constitutive Instances, Conformable Instances, Singular Instances, Deviating Instances, Bordering Instances, Instances of Power, Instances of Companionship and of Enmity, Subjunctive Instances, Instances of Alliance, Instances of the Fingerpost, Instances of Divorce, Instances of the Door, Summoning Instances, Instances of the Road, Instances Supplementary, Dissecting Instances, Instances of the Rod, Instances of the Course, Doses of Nature, Instances of Strife, Intimating Instances, Polychrest Instances, Magical Instances.

Now the use of these instances, wherein they excel common instances, is found either in the Informative part or in the Operative, or in both. As regards the Informative, they assist either the senses or the understanding: the senses, as the five Instances of the Lamp; the understanding either by hastening the Exclusion of the Form, as Solitary Instances; or by narrowing and indicating more nearly the Affirmative of the Form, as Instances Migratory, Striking, of Companionship, and Subjective; or by exalting the understanding and leading it to genera and common natures, either immediately, as Instances Clandestine, Singular, and of Alliance, or in the next degree, as Constitutive, on in the lowest, as Conformable; or by setting the understanding right when led astray by habit, as Deviating Instances; or by leading it to the Great Form or Fabric of the Universe, as Bordering Instances; or by guarding it against false forms and causes, as Instances of the Fingerpost and of Divorce. In the Operative Part, they either point out, or measure, or facilitate practice. They point it out, by showing with what we should begin, that we may not go again over old ground, as Instances of Power; or to what we should aspire if means be given, as Intimating Instances. The four Mathematical Instances measure practice; Polychrest and Magical Instances facilitate it.

Again, out of these twenty-seven instances there are some of which we must make a collection at once, as I said above, without waiting for the particular investigation of natures. Of this sort are Instances Conformable, Singular, Deviating, Bordering, of Power, of the Dose, Intimating, Polychrest, and Magical. For these either help and set right the understanding and senses, or furnish practice with her tools in a general way. The rest need not be inquired into till we come to make Tables of Presentation for the work of the Interpreter concerning some particular nature. For the instances marked and endowed with these Prerogatives are as a soul amid the common instances of Presentation, and as I said at first, a few of them do instead of many, and therefore in the formation of the Tables they must be investigated with all zeal and set down therein. It was necessary to handle them beforehand because I shall have to speak of them in what follows.

But now I must proceed to the supports and rectification of Induction, and then to concretes, and Latent Processes, and Latent Configurations and the rest, as set forth in order in the twenty-first aphorism, that at length (like an honest and faithful guardian) I may hand over to men their fortunes, now their understanding is emancipated and come as it were of age; whence there cannot but follow an improvement in man’s estate, and an enlargement of his power over nature. For man by the fall fell at the same from his state of innocence and from his dominion over creation. Both of these losses, however, can even in this life be in some part repaired; the former by religion and faith, the latter by arts and sciences. For creation was not by the curse made altogether and for ever a rebel, but in virtue of that charter: “In the sweat of thy face shalt thou eat bread,” it is now by various labors (not certainly by disputations or idle magical ceremonies, but by various labors) at length and in some measure subdued to the supplying of man with bread, that is, to the uses of human life.

END OF THE SECOND BOOK OF THE NEW ORGANON

PREPARATIVE
TOWARDS A
NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY

DESCRIPTION OF A
NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY
SUCH AS MAY SERVE FOR THE FOUNDATION OF A TRUE PHILOSOPHY

My object in publishing my Instauration by parts is that some portion of it may be put out of peril. A similar reason induces me to subjoin here another small portion of the work, and to publish it along with that which has just been set forth. This is the description and delineation of a Natural and Experimental History such as may serve to build philosophy upon, and containing material true and copious and aptly digested for the work of the Interpreter which follows. The proper place for it would be when I come in due course to the Preparatives of Inquiry [see Book Two, aphorism 21]. I have thought it better, however, to introduce it at once without waiting for that.

A history of this kind, such as I conceive and shall presently describe, is a thing of very great size and cannot be executed without great labor and expense, requiring as it does many people to help, and being (as I have said elsewhere) a kind of royal work. It occurs to me, therefore, that it may not be amiss to try if there be any others who will take these matters in hand, so that while I go on with the completion of my original design, this part which is so manifold and laborious may even during my life (if it so please the Divine Majesty) be prepared and set forth, others applying themselves diligently to it along with me, the rather because my own strength (if I should have no one to help me) is hardly equal to such a province. For as much as relates to the work itself of the intellect, I shall perhaps be able to master that by myself, but the materials on which the intellect has to work are so widely spread, that one must employ factors and merchants to go everywhere in search of them and bring them in. Besides I hold it to be somewhat beneath the dignity of an undertaking like mine that I should spend my own time in a matter which is open to almost every man’s industry. That, however, which is the main part of the matter, I will myself now supply by diligently and exactly setting forth the method and description of a history of this kind, such as shall satisfy my intention, lest men for want of warning set to work the wrong way and guide themselves by the example of the natural histories now in use, and so go far astray from my design.

Meanwhile, what I have often said I must here emphatically repeat: that if all the wits of all the ages had met or shall hereafter meet together, if the whole human race had applied or shall hereafter apply themselves to philosophy, and the whole earth had been or shall be nothing but academies and colleges and schools of learned men, still without a natural and experimental history such as I am going to prescribe, no progress worthy of the human race could have been made or can be made in philosophy and the sciences. Whereas, on the other hand, let such a history be once provided and well set forth, and let there be added to it such auxiliary and light-giving experiments as in the very course of interpretation will present themselves or will have to be found out, and the investigation of nature and of all sciences will be the work of a few years. This, therefore, must be done or the business must be given up. For in this way, and in this way only, can the foundations of a true and active philosophy be established, and then will men wake as from deep sleep, and at once perceive what a difference there is between the dogmas and figments of the wit and a true and active philosophy, and what it is in questions of nature to consult nature herself.

First, then, I will give general precepts for the composition of this history, then I will set out the particular figure of it, inserting sometimes as well the purpose to which the inquiry is to be adapted and referred as the particular point to be inquired, in order that a good understanding and forecast of the mark aimed at may suggest to men’s minds other things also which I may perhaps have overlooked. This history I call Primary History, or the Mother History.

APHORISMS
ON THE COMPOSITION OF THE PRIMARY HISTORY

1

Nature exists in three states, and is subject as it were to three kinds of regimen. Either she is free, and develops herself in her own ordinary course, or she is forced out of her proper state by the perverseness and insubordination of matter and the violence of impediments, or she is constrained and molded by art and human ministry. The first state refers to the species of things, the second to monsters, the third to things artificial. For in things artificial nature takes orders from man and works under his authority. Without man, such things would never have been made. But by the help and ministry of man a new face of bodies, another universe or theater of things, comes into view. Natural History, therefore, is threefold. It treats of the liberty of nature, or the errors of nature, or the bonds of nature, so that we may fairly distribute it into history of Generations, of Pretergenerations, and of Arts, which last I also call Mechanical or Experimental history. And yet I do not make it a rule that these three should be kept apart and separately treated, for why should not the history of the monsters in the several species be joined with the history of the species themselves? And things artificial again may sometimes be rightly joined with the species, though sometimes they will be better kept separate. It will be best, therefore, to consider these things as the case arises. For too much method produces iterations and prolixity as well as none at all.

2

Natural History, which in its subject (as I said) is threefold, is in its use twofold. For it is used either for the sake of the knowledge of the particular things which it contains or as the primary material of philosophy and the stuff and subject matter of true induction. And it is this latter which is now in hand; now, I say, for the first time; nor has it ever been taken in hand till now. For neither Aristotle, nor Theophrastus, nor Dioscorides, nor Caius Plinius, ever set this before them as the end of natural history. And the chief part of the matter rests in this: that they who shall hereafter take it upon them to write natural history, should bear this continually in mind, that they ought not to consult the pleasure of the reader, no nor even that utility which may be derived immediately from their narrations, but to seek out and gather together such store and variety of things as may suffice for the formation of true axioms. Let them but remember this and they will find out for themselves the method in which the history should be composed. For the end rules the method.

3

But the more difficult and laborious the work is, the more ought it to be discharged of matters superfluous. And, therefore, there are three things upon which men should be warned to be sparing of their labor, as those which will immensely increase the mass of the work and add little or nothing to its worth.

First, then, away with antiquities and citations or testimonies of authors, also with disputes and controversies and differing opinions, everything in short which is philological. Never cite an author except in a matter of doubtful credit. Never introduce a controversy unless in a matter of great moment. And for all that concerns ornaments of speech, similitudes, treasury of eloquence, and such like emptiness, let it be utterly dismissed. Also let all those things which are admitted, be themselves set down briefly and concisely, so that they may be nothing less than words. For no man who is collecting and storing up materials for ship building or the like, thinks of arranging them elegantly, as in a shop, and displaying them so as to please the eye, all his care is that they be sound and good and that they be so arranged as to take up as little room as possible in the warehouse. And this is exactly what should be done here.

Secondly, that superfluity of natural histories in descriptions and pictures of species, and the curious variety of the same, is not much to the purpose. For small varieties of this kind are only a kind of sports and wanton freaks of nature and come near to the nature of individuals. They afford a pleasant recreation in wandering among them and looking at them as objects in themselves, but the information they yield to the sciences is slight and almost superfluous.

Thirdly, all superstitious stories (I do not say stories of prodigies, when the report appears to be faithful and probable, but superstitious stories) and experiments of ceremonial magic should be altogether rejected. For I would not have the infancy of philosophy, to which natural history is as a nursing mother, accustomed to old wives’ fables. The time will perhaps come (after we have gone somewhat deeper into the investigation of nature) for a light review of things of this kind, that if there remain any grains of natural virtue in these dregs, they may be extracted and laid up for use. In the meantime they should be set aside. Even the experiments of natural magic should be sifted diligently and severely before they are received; especially those which are commonly derived from vulgar sympathies and antipathies, with great sloth and facility both of believing and inventing.

And it is no small thing to relieve natural history from the three superfluities above mentioned, which would otherwise fill volumes. Nor is this all. For in a great work it is no less necessary that what is admitted should be written succinctly than that what is superfluous should be rejected, though no doubt this kind of chastity and brevity will give less pleasure both to the reader and the writer. But it is always to be remembered that this which we are now about is only a granary and storehouse of matters, not meant to be pleasant to stay or live in, but only to be entered as occasion requires, when anything is wanted for the work of the Interpreter, which follows.

4

In the history which I require and design, special care is to be taken that it be of a wide range and made to the measure of the universe. For the world is not be narrowed till it will go into the understanding (which has been done hitherto), but the understanding to be expanded and opened till it can take in the image of the world as it is in fact. For that fashion of taking few things into account and pronouncing with reference to a few things, has been the ruin of everything.

To resume then the division of natural history which I made just now—namely, that it is a history of Generations, Pretergenerations, and Arts—I divide the History of Generations into five parts. The first, of Ether and things Celestial. The second, of Meteors and the regions (as they call them) of Air, namely of the tracts which lie between the moon and the surface of the earth, to which part also (for order’s sake, however the truth of the thing may be) I assign comets of whatever kind, both higher and lower. The third, of Earth and Sea. The fourth, of the Elements (as they call them), flame or fire, air, water, earth. Understanding, however, by elements, not the first principles of things, but the greater masses of natural bodies. For the nature of things is so distributed that the quantity or mass of some bodies in the universe is very great because their configurations require a texture of matter easy and obvious, such as are those four bodies which I have mentioned, while of certain other bodies the quantity is small and weakly supplied because the texture of matter which they require is very complex and subtle and for the most part determinate and organic, such as are the species of natural things—metals, plants, animals. Hence I call the former kind of bodies the Greater Colleges, the latter the Lesser Colleges. Now the fourth part of the history is of those Greater Colleges—under the name of Elements, as I said. And let it not be thought that I confound this fourth part with the second and third, because in each of them I have mentioned air, water, and earth. For the history of these enters into the second and third, as they are integral parts of the world, and as they relate to the fabric and configuration of the universe. But in the fourth is contained the history of their own substance and nature, as it exists in their several parts of uniform structure and without reference to the whole. Lastly, the fifth part of the history contains the Lesser Colleges, or Species, upon which natural history has hitherto been principally employed.

As for the history of Pretergenerations, I have already said that it may be most conveniently joined with the history of Generations, I mean the history of prodigies which are natural. For the superstitious history of marvels (of whatever kind) I remit to a quite separate treatise of its own, which treatise I do not wish to be undertaken now at first, but a little after, when the investigation of nature has been carried deeper.

History of Arts, and of Nature as changed and altered by Man, or Experimental History, I divide into three. For it is drawn either from mechanical arts, or from the operative part of the liberal arts; or from a number of crafts and experiments which have not yet grown into an art properly so called, and which sometimes indeed turn up in the course of most ordinary experience, and do not stand at all in need of art.

As soon therefore as a history has been completed of all these things which I have mentioned, namely, Generations, Pretergenerations, Arts and Experiments, it seems that nothing will remain unprovided whereby the sense can be equipped for the information of the understanding. And then shall we be no longer kept dancing within little rings, like persons bewitched, but our range and circuit will be as wide as the compass of the world.

5

Among the parts of history which I have mentioned, the history of Arts is of most use, because it exhibits things in motion, and leads more directly to practice. Moreover it takes off the mask and veil from natural objects, which are commonly concealed and obscured under the variety of shapes and external appearance. Finally, the vexations of art are certainly as the bonds and handcuffs of Proteus, which betray the ultimate struggles and efforts of matter. For bodies will not be destroyed or annihilated, rather than that they will turn themselves into various forms. Upon this history, therefore, mechanical and illiberal as it may seem (all fineness and daintiness set aside), the greatest diligence must be bestowed.

Again, among the particular arts, those are to be preferred which exhibit, alter, and prepare natural bodies and materials of things, such as agriculture, cookery, chemistry, dyeing, the manufacture of glass, enamel, sugar, gunpowder, artificial fires, paper, and the like. Those which consist principally in the subtle motion of the hands or instruments are of less use, such as weaving, carpentry, architecture, manufacture of mills, clocks, and the like. Although these too are by no means to be neglected, both because many things occur in them which relate to the alterations of natural bodies, and because they give accurate information concerning local motion, which is a thing of great importance in very many respects.

But in the whole collection of this history of Arts, it is especially to be observed and constantly borne in mind, that not only those experiments in each art which serve the purpose of the art itself are to be received, but likewise those which turn up anyhow by the way. For example, that locusts or crabs, which were before the color of mud, turn red when baked is nothing to the table, but this very instance is not a bad one for investigating the nature of redness, seeing that the same thing happens in baked bricks. In like manner, the fact that meat is sooner salted in winter than in summer, is not only important for the cook that he may know how to regulate the pickling, but is likewise a good instance for showing the nature and impression of cold. Therefore, it would be an utter mistake to suppose that my intention would be satisfied by a collection of experiments of arts made only with the view of thereby bringing the several arts to greater perfection. For though this be an object which in many cases I do not despise, yet my meaning plainly is that all mechanical experiments should be as streams flowing from all sides into the sea of philosophy. But how to select the more important instances in every kind (which are principally and with the greatest diligence to be sought and as it were hunted out) is a point to be learned from the prerogatives of instances.

6

In this place also is to be resumed that which in aphorisms 99, 119, and 120 of the first book I treated more at large, but which it may be enough here to enjoin shortly by way of precept; namely, that there are to be received into this history, first, things the most ordinary, such as it might be thought superfluous to record in writing, because they are so familiarly known; secondly, things mean, illiberal, filthy (for “to the pure all things are pure,” and if money obtained from Vespasian’s tax smelt well, much more does light and information from whatever source derived); thirdly, things trifling and childish (and no wonder, for we are to become again as little children); and lastly, things which seem over subtle because they are in themselves of no use. For the things which will be set forth in this history are not collected (as I have already said) on their own account; and, therefore, neither is their importance to be measured by what they are worth in themselves, but according to their indirect bearing upon other things, and the influence they may have upon philosophy.

7

Another precept is that everything relating both to bodies and virtues in nature be set forth (as far as may be) numbered, weighed, measured, defined. For it is works we are in pursuit of, not speculations; and practical working comes of the due combination of physics and mathematics. And, therefore, the exact revolutions and distances of the planets (in the history of the heavenly bodies), the compass of the land and the superficial space it occupies in comparison of the waters (in the history of earth and sea), how much compression air will bear without strong resistance (in the history of air), how much one metal outweighs another (in the history of metals), and numberless other particulars of that kind are to be ascertained and set down. And when exact proportions cannot be obtained, then we must have recourse to indefinite estimates and comparatives. As for instance (if we happen to distrust the calculations of astronomers as to the distances of the planets), that the moon is within the shadow of the earth, that Mercury is beyond the moon, and the like. Also, when mean proportions cannot be had, let extremes be proposed, as that a weak magnet will raise so many times its own weight of iron, while the most powerful will raise sixty times its own weight (as I have myself seen in the case of a very small armed magnet). I know well enough that these definite instances do not occur readily or often, but that they must be sought for as auxiliaries in the course of interpretation itself when they are most wanted. But nevertheless if they present themselves accidentally, provided they do not too much interrupt the progress of the natural history, they should also be entered therein.

8

With regard to the credit of the things which are to be admitted into the history, they must needs be either certainly true, doubtful whether true or not, or certainly not true. Things of the first kind should be set down simply. Things of the second kind with a qualifying note, such as, “it is reported,” “they relate,” “I have heard from a person of credit,” and the like. For to add the arguments on either side would be too laborious and would certainly interrupt the writer too much. Nor is it of much consequence to the business in hand because (as I have said in aphorism 118 of the first book) mistakes in experimenting, unless they abound everywhere, will be presently detected and corrected by the truth of axioms. And yet if the instance be important, either from its own use or because many other things may depend upon it, then certainly the name of the author should be given, and not the name merely, but it should be mentioned withal whether he took it from report, oral or written (as most of Pliny’s statements are), or rather affirmed it of his own knowledge; also whether it was a thing which happened in his own time or earlier; and again whether it was a thing of which, if it really happened, there must needs have been many witnesses; and finally whether the author was a vain speaking and light person, or sober and severe; and the like points, which bear upon the weight of the evidence. Lastly, things which though certainly not true are yet current and much in men’s mouths, having either through neglect or from the use of them in similitudes prevailed now for many ages (as that the diamond binds the magnet, garlic weakens it; that amber attracts everything except basil; and other things of that kind), these it will not be enough to reject silently, they must be in express words proscribed, that the sciences may be no more troubled with them.

Besides, it will not be amiss, when the source of any vanity or credulity happens to present itself, to make a note of it, as, for example, that the power of exciting Venus is ascribed to the herb Satyrion because its root takes the shape of testicles when the real cause of this is that a fresh bulbous root grows upon it every year, last year’s root still remaining, whence those twin bulbs. And it is manifest that this is so because the new root is always found to be solid and succulent, the old withered and spongy. And, therefore, it is no marvel if one sinks in water and the other swims, which nevertheless goes for a wonder, and has added credit to the other virtues ascribed to this herb.

9

There are also some things which may be usefully added to the natural history and which will make it fitter and more convenient for the work of the interpreter which follows. They are five:

First, questions (I do not mean as to causes but as to the fact) should be added in order to provoke and stimulate further inquiry, as in the history of the Earth and Sea, whether the Caspian ebbs and flows, and at how many hours’ interval; whether there is any Southern Continent or only islands; and the like.

Secondly, in any new and more subtle experiment the manner in which the experiment was conducted should be added, that men may be free to judge for themselves whether the information obtained from that experiment be trustworthy or fallacious, and also that men’s industry may be roused to discover, if possible, methods more exact.

Thirdly, if in any statement there be anything doubtful or questionable, I would by no means have it suppressed or passed in silence, but plainly and perspicuously set down by way of note or admonition. For I want this primary history to be compiled with almost religious care, as if every particular were stated upon oath, seeing that it is the book of God’s works, and (so far as the majesty of heavenly may be compared with the humbleness of earthly things) a kind of second Scripture.

Fourthly, it would not be amiss to intersperse observations occasionally, as Pliny has done, as in the history of Earth and Sea, that the figure of the earth (as far as it is yet known) compared with the seas, is narrow and pointed towards the south, wide and broad towards the north, the figure of the sea contrary; that the great oceans intersect the earth in channels running north and south, not east and west, except perhaps in the extreme polar regions. It is also very good to add canons (which are nothing more than certain general and catholic observations) as in the history of the heavenly bodies, that Venus is never distant more than 46 parts from the sun, Mercury never more than 23, and that the planets which are placed above the sun move slowest when they are furthest from the earth, those under the sun fastest. Moreover there is another kind of observation to be employed, which has not yet come into use, though it be of no small importance. This is, that to the enumeration of things which are, should be subjoined an enumeration of things which are not. As in the history of the heavenly bodies, that there is not found any star oblong or triangular, but that every star is globular, either globular simply, as the moon; or apparently angular but globular in the middle, as the other stars; or apparently radiant but globular in the middle, as the sun. Or that the stars are scattered about the sky in no order at all, so that there is not found among them either quincunx or square, or any other regular figure (howsoever the names be given of Delta, Crown, Cross, Chariot, etc.), scarcely so much as a straight line, except perhaps in the belt and dagger of Orion.

Fifthly, that may perhaps be of some assistance to an inquirer which is the ruin and destruction of a believer, namely a brief review, as in passage, of the opinions now received, with their varieties and sects, that they may touch and rouse the intellect and no more.

10

And this will be enough in the way of general precepts, which if they be diligently observed, the work of the history will at once go straight towards its object and be prevented from increasing beyond bounds. But if even as here circumscribed and limited it should appear to some poor spirited person a vast work, let him turn to the libraries and there among other things let him look at the bodies of civil and canonical law on one side, and at the commentaries of doctors and lawyers on the other and see what a difference there is between the two in point of mass and volume. For we (who as faithful secretaries do but enter and set down the laws themselves of nature and nothing else) are content with brevity, and almost compelled to it by the condition of things, whereas opinions, doctrines, and speculations are without number and without end.

And whereas in the Plan of the Work I have spoken of the Cardinal Virtues in nature, and said that a history of these must also be collected and written before we come to the work of Interpretation, I have not forgotten this, but I reserve this part for myself since, until men have begun to be somewhat more closely intimate with nature, I cannot venture to rely very much on other people’s industry in that matter.

And now should come the delineation of the particular histories. But I have at present so many other things to do that I can only find time to subjoin a catalogue of their titles. As soon, however, as I have leisure for it, I mean to draw up a set of questions on the several subjects, and to explain what points with regard to each of the histories are especially to be inquired and collected, as conducing to the end I have in view—like a kind of particular Topics. In other words, I mean (according to the practice in civil causes) in this great Plea or Suit granted by the divine favor and providence (whereby the human race seeks to recover its right over nature), to examine nature herself and the arts upon interrogatories.

CATALOGUE OF PARTICULAR HISTORIES
BY TITLES

1. History of the heavenly bodies, or Astronomical History.

2. History of the configuration of the heaven and the parts thereof towards the Earth and the parts thereof, or Cosmographical History.

3. History of comets.

4. History of fiery meteors.

5. History of lightnings, thunderbolts, thunders, and coruscations.

6. History of winds and sudden blasts and undulations of the air.

7. History of rainbows.

8. History of clouds, as they are seen above.

9. History of the blue expanse, of twilight, of mock suns, mock moons, haloes, various colors of the Sun, and of every variety in the aspect of the heavens caused by the medium.

10. History of showers, ordinary, stormy, and prodigious, also of waterspouts (as they are called), and the like.

11. History of hail, snow, frost, hoarfrost, fog, dew, and the like.

12. History of all other things that fall or descend from above, and that are generated in the upper region.

13. History of sounds in the upper region (if there be any) besides thunder.

14. History of air as a whole, or in the configuration of the world.

15. History of the seasons or temperatures of the year, as well according to the variations of regions as according to accidents of times and periods of years, of floods, heats, droughts, and the like.

16. History of Earth and sea, of the shape and compass of them, and their configurations compared with each other, and of their broadening or narrowing; of islands in the sea; of gulfs of the sea, and salt lakes within the land, isthmuses and promontories.

17. History of the motions (if any be) of the globe of Earth and sea, and of the experiments from which such motions may be collected.

18. History of the greater motions and perturbations in Earth and sea, earthquakes, tremblings and yawnings of the earth, islands newly appearing, floating islands, breakings off of land by entrance of the sea, encroachments and inundations and contrariwise recessions of the sea, eruptions of fire from the earth, sudden eruptions of waters from the earth, and the like.

19. Natural History of Geography, of mountains, valleys, woods, plains, sands, marshes, lakes, rivers, torrents, springs, and every variety of their course, and the like, leaving apart nations, provinces, cities and such like matters pertaining to civil life.

20. History of ebbs and flows of the sea, currents, undulations, and other motions of the sea.

21. History of the other accidents of the sea, its saltiness, its various colors, its depth, also of rocks, mountains, and valleys under the sea, and the like.

Next come Histories of the Greater Masses

22. History of flame and of things ignited.

23. History of air in substance, not in the configuration of the world.

24. History of water, in substance, not in the configuration of the world.

25. History of earth and the diversity thereof, in substance, not in the configuration of the world.

Next come Histories of Species

26. History of perfect metals, gold, silver; and of the mines, veins, marcasites of the same; also of the working in the mines.

27. History of quicksilver.

28. History of fossils, as vitriol, sulfur, etc.

29. History of gems, as the diamond, the ruby, etc.

30. History of stones, as marble, touchstone, flint, etc.

31. History of the magnet.

32. History of miscellaneous bodies, which are neither entirely fossil nor vegetable, as salts, amber, ambergris, etc.

33. Chemical history of metals and minerals.

34. History of plants, trees, shrubs, herbs; and of their parts, roots, stalks, wood, leaves, flowers, fruits, seeds, gums, etc.

35. Chemical history of vegetables.

36. History of fishes, and the parts and generation of them.

37. History of birds, and the parts and generation of them.

38. History of quadrupeds, and the parts and generation of them.

39. History of serpents, worms, flies, and other insects, and of the parts and generation of them.

40. Chemical history of the things which are taken by animals.

Next come Histories of Man

41. History of the figure and external limbs of man, his stature, frame, countenance and features; and of the variety of the same according to races and climates, or other smaller differences.

42. Physiognomical history of the same.

43. Anatomical history, or of the internal members of man; and of the variety of them, as it is found in the natural frame and structure, and not merely as regards diseases and accidents out of the course of nature.

44. History of the parts of uniform structure in man, as flesh, bones, membranes, etc.

45. History of humors in man, blood, bile, seed, etc.

46. History of excrements, spittle, urine, sweats, stools, hair of the head, hairs of the body, whitlows, nails, and the like.

47. History of faculties, attraction, digestion, retention, expulsion, sanguification, assimilation of aliment into the members, conversion of blood and flower of blood into spirit, etc.

48. History of natural and involuntary motions, as motion of the heart, the pulses, sneezing, lungs, erection, etc.

49. History of motions partly natural and partly violent, as of respiration, cough, urine, stool, etc.

50. History of voluntary motions, as of the instruments of articulation of words, motions of the eyes, tongue, jaws, hands, fingers, of swallowing, etc.

51. History of sleep and dreams.

52. History of different habits of body, fat, lean; of the complexions (as they call them), etc.

53. History of the generation of man.

54. History of conception, vivification, gestation in the womb, birth, etc.

55. History of the food of man, and of all things eatable and drinkable, and of all diet, and of the variety of the same according to nations and smaller differences.

56. History of the growth and increase of the body, in the whole and in its parts.

57. History of the course of age; infancy, boyhood, youth, old age; of length and shortness of life, and the like, according to nations and lesser differences.

58. History of life and death.

59. History medicinal of diseases and the symptoms and signs of them.

60. History medicinal of the treatment and remedies and cures of diseases.

61. History medicinal of those things which preserve the body and the health.

62. History medicinal of those things which relate to the form and comeliness of the body.

63. History medicinal of those things which alter the body, and pertain to alternative regimen.

64. History of drugs.

65. History of surgery.

66. Chemical history of medicines.

67. History of vision and of things visible.

68. History of painting, sculpture, modeling, etc.

69. History of hearing and sound.

70. History of music.

71. History of smell and smells.

72. History of taste and tastes.

73. History of touch and the objects of touch.

74. History of venus, as a species of touch.

75. History of bodily pains, as species of touch.

76. History of pleasure and pain in general.

77. History of the affections, as anger, love, shame, etc.

78. History of the intellectual faculties, reflection, imagination, discourse, memory, etc.

79. History of natural divinations.

80. History of diagnostics, or secret natural judgments.

81. History of cookery, and the arts thereto belonging, as of the butcher, poulterer, etc.

82. History of baking, and the making of bread, and the arts thereto belonging, as the miller, etc.

83. History of wine.

84. History of the cellar and of different kinds of drink.

85. History of sweetmeats and confections.

86. History of honey.

87. History of sugar.

88. History of the dairy.

89. History of baths and ointments.

90. Miscellaneous history concerning the care of the body, as of barbers, perfumers, etc.

91. History of the working of gold, and the arts thereto belonging.

92. History of the manufactures of wool, and the arts thereto belonging.

93. History of the manufactures of silk, and the arts thereto belonging.

94. History of manufactures of flax, hemp, cotton, hair, and other kinds of thread, and the arts thereto belonging.

95. History of manufactures of feathers.

96. History of weaving, and the arts thereto belonging.

97. History of dyeing.

98. History of leather making, tanning, and the arts thereto belonging.

99. History of ticking and feathers.

100. History of working in iron.

101. History of stone cutting.

102. History of the making of bricks and tiles.

103. History of pottery.

104. History of cements, etc.

105. History of working in wood.

106. History of working in lead.

107. History of glass and all vitreous substances, and of glass making.

108. History of architecture generally.

109. History of wagons, chariots, litters, etc.

110. History of printing, of books, of writing, of sealing; of ink, pen, paper, parchments, etc.

111. History of wax.

112. History of basket making.

113. History of mat making, and of manufactures of straw, rushes, and the like.

114. History of washing, scouring, etc.

115. History of agriculture, pasturage, culture of woods, etc.

116. History of gardening.

117. History of fishing.

118. History of hunting and fowling.

119. History of the art of war, and of the arts thereto belonging, as armory, bow making, arrow making, musketry, ordnance, cross bows, machines, etc.

120. History of the art of navigation and of the crafts and arts thereto belonging.

121. History of athletics and human exercises of all kinds.

122. History of horsemanship.

123. History of games of all kinds.

124. History of jugglers and mountebanks.

125. Miscellaneous history of various artificial materials, as enamel, porcelain, various cements, etc.

126. History of salts.

127. Miscellaneous history of various machines and motions.

128. Miscellaneous history of common experiments which have not grown into an art.

Histories must also be written of Pure Mathematics;
though they are rather observations than experiments

129. History of the natures and powers of numbers.

130. History of the natures and powers of figures.

It may not be amiss to observe that whereas many of the experiments must come under more titles than one (as the history of plants and the history of the art of gardening have many things in common), it will be more convenient to investigate them with reference to arts, and to arrange them with reference to bodies. For I care little about the mechanical arts themselves, only about those things which they contribute to the equipment of philosophy. But these things will be better regulated as the case arises.

FINIS

III

NATURAL HISTORY SELECTIONS

As discussed in the General Introduction, after Bacon’s retirement from public life he spent most of his time compiling natural histories for the third part of his great instauration. Representative samples from this work are included here in selections from The Natural and Experimental History for the Foundation of Philosophy: or Phenomena of the Universe, published in 1622; from History of Dense and Rare, not published until 1658 but meant to be part of the preceding project; from Sylva Sylvarum, a different type of historical compilation, published shortly after his death in 1627; and from Medical Remains, a private compilation of medicinal remedies, at least some of which were used by Bacon, published in 1679.

The Natural and Experimental History begins with a dedication to Prince Charles, the son of James I, who would succeed his father to the English throne in 1625. In the dedication, Bacon announces his ambitious plan to complete one history a month on various subjects and then lists titles for the next six months. The first, History of Winds, was published as part of this 1622 edition. A preface follows, within which he once again admonishes his readers to put aside reverence for the authority of philosophers and instead to have reverence for the works of the creator and to seek useful knowledge by direct investigations of nature. He acknowledges that although there is much left to be perfected in The New Organon, he has turned his attention to natural histories because they provide the material on which his organon is to work, and he therefore must provide models for how best to construct such histories so that others may contribute to this part of his project. “The Rule of the Present History” follows the preface and is described by Bacon as a “more exact and more succinct” rule than that which he gave in the earlier Preparative.

Although Bacon published the History of Winds in the aforementioned volume, a selection from his History of Dense and Rare is included here instead. It follows the same model that Bacon had described earlier, but it is a more significant work because it shows that he included a quantitative element in his experimental investigations. The selection here begins with an introduction that, following his Rule, contains a discussion about the importance of this study, numerous questions about the subject, and suggested areas of inquiry. Then the history itself begins with a table of the comparative weights of various bodies enclosed within the same space. In the discussion that follows this table, Bacon raises a number of serious methodological questions, in addition to making a number of observations about how best to write experimental reports. He explains the details surrounding how the experiments were made; in addition, he notes that the proportions might not be exact, that his numbers might not agree with others, and that not all bodies can be tested in this way. Then follows a series of “observations” on the experiment that explore its significance, such that it provides information that contradicts the opinion of Aristotle. After the final observation given here, another investigation begins with a new table of weights, which is also followed by observations, admonitions, and suggestions.

Bacon’s Sylva Sylvarum was his most popular book in the seventeenth century. Unlike the previously mentioned histories that were devoted to single topics, the observations here are grouped around many different subjects. There are ten “centuries” (one hundred numbered entries) of observations, many of which are taken from the works of others, particularly from Aristotle, Pliny, and Porta. The selection given here includes the Dedication to King Charles I, written by William Rawley while Bacon was still living, and the first twenty-five observations from the first century. Basically this work is a compilation of observations, stripped by Bacon of what he found to be the speculative and erroneous explanations of the original authors, and supplied with Bacon’s own alternative interpretations. From these observations, therefore, one can get some idea about Bacon’s own theoretical speculations. Also significant, however, are some of the methodological elements that he included concerning problems with interpreting experiments and his inclusion of the idea of reporting “experiments in consort”—the grouping together of experiments that have similar import so that they may shed light on each other. This practice would be followed by scientific authors of the next generation, such as Robert Boyle and Robert Hooke.

The final selection is made up of medical recipes and practices that were part of a collection of loose notes kept by Bacon and published for the first time towards the end of the seventeenth century as part of a volume of Baconiana, or certain genuine Remains of Sir Francis Bacon. Departing from previous practice, little editing has been done to this selection. In particular, in order to preserve the nature of the notes and to give some indication of Bacon’s informal style, no attempt has been made to translate his English. For the curious reader, most of the archaic terms can still be found in a good dictionary. Many of the processes, such as macerating, roasting, and quenching, are as unfamiliar as the ingredients listed, but it is unlikely that anyone would wish to replicate these processes today. Also, the reader will likely notice that even when the ingredients are familiar, they are peculiar for use in medicine. One striking instance, for example, is the frequent use of precious metals, gems, and pearls in the recipes. In the next generation, Robert Boyle, among others, will argue that cheaper ingredients must be found in order to make medical preparations more available to the poor. Once again, Bacon’s familiarity with chemical processes can be seen in this selection. It was a familiarity that was not uncommon in his day, because many people found that it was in their best interest to learn how to make medicinal recipes (called receipts at the time) to guard against the quacks and apothecaries who could not always be trusted to use pure or correct ingredients.

NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY
FOR THE FOUNDATION OF PHILOSOPHY:
OR PHENOMENA OF THE UNIVERSE
WHICH IS THE THIRD PART
OF THE GREAT INSTAURATION

To the Most Illustrious and Excellent
PRINCE CHARLES,
Son and Heir of His Most Serene Majesty, King James

Most Illustrious and Excellent Prince,

The first fruits of my Natural History I most humbly offer to your Highness, a thing like a grain of mustard seed, very small in itself, yet a pledge of those things which by the grace of God will come hereafter. For I have bound myself as by a vow every month that the goodness of God (whose glory is sung as in a new song) shall add to my life, to complete and set forth one or more parts of it, according as they be more or less difficult or extensive. It may be also that others will be stirred by my example to a like industry, especially when they shall fully understand what it is that we are about. For a sound and well-ordered Natural History is the key of all knowledge and operation. That God may long preserve your Highness in His keeping is the prayer of

Your Majesty’s humble and devoted Servant,
FR. ST. ALBAN.

TITLES OF THE HISTORIES AND INQUIRIES DESIGNED FOR THE
FIRST SIX MONTHS

History of the Winds.

History of Dense and Rare, and of the Contraction and Expansion of Matter in Space.

History of Heavy and Light.

History of the Sympathy and Antipathy of Things.

History of Sulfur, Mercury, and Salt.

History of Life and Death.

THE NATURAL AND EXPERIMENTAL HISTORY FOR
THE FOUNDATION OF PHILOSOPHY

Preface

Men are to be admonished, nay urged and entreated as they value their fortunes, to be lowly of mind and search for knowledge in the greater world, and to throw aside all thought of philosophy, or at least to expect but little and poor fruit from it, until an approved and careful Natural and Experimental History be prepared and constructed. For to what purpose are these brain creations and idle displays of power? In ancient times there were philosophical doctrines in plenty—doctrines of Pythagoras, Philolaus, Xenophanes, Heraclitus, Empedocles, Parmenides, Anaxagoras, Leucippus, Democritus, Plato, Aristotle, Zeno, and others. All these invented systems of the universe, each according to his own fancy, like so many arguments of plays; and those their inventions they recited and published; whereof some were more elegant and probable, others harsh and unlikely.

Nor in our age, though by reason of the institutions of schools and colleges wits are more restrained, has the practice entirely ceased—for Patricius, Telesius, Brunus, Severinus the Dane, Gilbert the Englishman, and Campanella have come upon the stage with fresh stories, neither honored by approbation nor elegant in argument. Are we then to wonder at this, as if there would not be innumerable sects and opinions of this kind in all ages? There is not and never will be an end or limit to this. One catches at one thing, another at another. Each has his favorite fancy. Pure and open light there is none. Every one philosophizes out of the cells of his own imagination, as out of Plato’s cave, the higher wits with more acuteness, the duller, less happily but with equal pertinacity.

And now of late by the regulation of some learned and (as things now are) excellent men (the former variety and license having I suppose become wearisome), the sciences are confined to certain and prescribed authors, and thus restrained are imposed upon the old and instilled into the young so that now (to use the sarcasm of Cicero concerning Caesar’s year), the constellation of Lyra rises by edict, and authority is taken for truth, not truth for authority. Which kind of situation and discipline is excellent for present use, but precludes all prospect of improvement. For we copy the sin of our first parents while we suffer for it. They wished to be like God, but their posterity wish to be even greater. For we create worlds, we direct and domineer over nature, we will have it that all things are as in our folly we think they should be, not as seems fittest to the Divine wisdom, or as they are found to be in fact; and I know not whether we more distort the facts of nature or our own wits, but we clearly impress the stamp of our own image on the creatures and works of God, instead of carefully examining and recognizing in them the stamp of the Creator himself. Wherefore our dominion over creatures is a second time forfeited, not undeservedly, and whereas after the fall of man some power over the resistance of creatures was still left to him—the power of subduing and managing them by true and solid arts—yet this too through our insolence, and because we desire to be like God and to follow the dictates of our own reason, we in great part lose.

If, therefore, there be any humility towards the Creator, any reverence for or disposition to magnify His works, any charity for man and anxiety to relieve his sorrows and necessities, any love of truth in nature, any hatred of darkness, any desire for the purification of the understanding, we must entreat men again and again to discard, or at least set apart for a while, these volatile and preposterous philosophies, which have preferred theses to hypotheses, led experience captive, and triumphed over the works of God; and to approach with humility and veneration to unroll the volume of Creation, to linger and meditate therein, and with minds washed clean from opinions, to study it in purity and integrity. For this is that sound and language which went forth into all lands, and did not incur the confusion of Babel; this should men study to be perfect in, and becoming again as little children, condescend to take the alphabet of it into their hands, and spare no pains to search and unravel the interpretation thereof, but pursue it strenuously and persevere even unto death.

Having therefore in my Instauration placed the Natural History—such a Natural History as may serve my purpose—in the third part of the work, I have thought it right to make some anticipation thereof, and to enter upon it at once. For although not a few things, and those among the most important, still remain to be completed in my Organon, yet my design is rather to advance the universal work of Instauration in many things, than to perfect it in a few; ever earnestly desiring, with such a passion as we believe God alone inspires, that this which has been hitherto unattempted may not now be attempted in vain. It has occurred to me likewise, that there are doubtless many wits scattered over Europe, capacious, open, lofty, subtle, solid, and constant. What if one of them were to enter into the plan of my Organon and try to use it? He yet knows not what to do, nor how to prepare and address himself to the work of philosophy. If indeed it were a thing that could be accomplished by reading of philosophical books, or discussion, or meditation, he might be equal to the work, whoever he be, and discharge it well, but if I refer him to natural history and the experiments of arts (as in fact I do), it is out of his line, he has not leisure for it, he cannot afford the expense. Yet I would not ask any one to give up what he has until he can exchange it for something better.

But when a true and copious history of nature and the arts shall have been once collected and digested, and when it shall have been set forth and unfolded before men’s eyes, then will there be good hope that those great wits I spoke of before, such as flourished in the old philosophers, and are even still often to be found—wits so vigorous that out of a mere plank or shell (that is out of scanty and trifling experience) they could frame certain barks of philosophy of admirable construction as far as the work is concerned—after they have obtained proper material and provision will raise much more solid structures; and that too though they prefer to walk on in the old path, and not by the way of my Organon, which in my estimation, if not the only, is at least the best course. It comes, therefore, to this: that my Organon, even if it were completed, would not without the Natural History much advance the Instauration of the Sciences, whereas the Natural History without the Organon would advance it not a little. And, therefore, I have thought it better and wiser by all means and above all things, to apply myself to this work. May God, the Founder, Preserver, and Renewer of the universe, in His love and compassion to men, protect and rule this work, both in its ascent to His glory and in its descent to the good of man, through his only Son, God with us.

The Rule of the Present History

Although at the end of that part of my Organon, which has been published, precepts are laid down concerning Natural and Experimental History, yet I think it right to give a description at once more exact and more succinct of the rule and structure of the History I am now entering upon.

To the Titles contained in the Catalogue which relate to Concretes, I superadd Titles of Abstract Natures (which I have mentioned there as a History reserved for myself). Such are “The Different Configurations of Matter,” or “Forms of the First Class,” “Simple Motions,” “Sums of Motions,” “Measures of Motions,” and some other things, whereof I have constructed a new Alphabet, and placed it at the end of this volume.

The titles in the catalogue (seeing it is beyond my power to handle them all) I have not taken in order, but made a selection; choosing those whereof the inquiry was either most important in respect of use, or most convenient on account of the abundance of experiments, or most difficult and noble from the obscurity of the thing, or such as opened the widest fields for examples by reason of the difference between the several titles, compared one with the other.

In each Title, after an Introduction or Preface, Particular Topics or Articles of Inquiry are immediately proposed, as well to give light in the present, as to stimulate further inquiry. For questions are at our command, though facts are not. I do not, however, in the history itself tie myself to the precise order of the questions, lest what was meant for a help should become a hindrance.

The History and Experiments occupy the first place. These, if they exhibit an enumeration and series of particular things, are collected into tables, otherwise they are taken separately.

Since history and experiments very often fail us, especially those Experiments of Light and Crucial Instances by which the understanding may determine the true causes of things, I give Injunctions touching new experiments contrived, as far as can be at present foreseen, to meet the special object of inquiry. And such Injunctions form a kind of Designed History. For what other course is open to us on first entering on our path?

In the case of any more subtle experiment, the method which I have employed is explained; for there may be a mistake, and it may stimulate others to devise better and more exact methods.

Admonitions and cautions concerning the fallacies of things, and the errors and scruples which may occur in inquiry and discovery, are interspersed to dispel and as it were exorcise as much as possible all delusions and false appearances.

I insert my own observations on the history and experiments, that the interpretation of nature may the more advance.

Speculations, and what may be called rudiments of interpretation concerning causes, are introduced sparingly, and rather as suggesting what the cause may be than defining what it is.

Such rules or imperfect axioms as occur to us in the course of inquiry, and where we do not yet pronounce, we set down and prescribe, but only provisionally. For they are useful, if not altogether true.

Never forgetful likewise of the good of man (though the light itself is more worthy than the things which it reveals), I append some Reminders concerning Practice for the attention and remembrance of men. For such and so unfortunate, I well know, is the insensibility of mankind, that sometimes, if they be not warned, they will pass by and neglect things which lie in their very path.

Works and Things Impossible, or at least not yet discovered, are propounded according as they fall under the several titles. And along with them those discoveries of which man is already possessed, which are nearest and most akin to such impossibles, that men’s industry may be excited and their spirits encouraged.

It is evident from what has been said that the present history not only supplies the place of the third part of the Instauration, but is no mean preparation for the fourth part, by reason of the titles from the Alphabet, and the Topics; and for the sixth part, by reason of the major observations, the speculations, and the provisional rules.

THE HISTORY OF DENSE AND RARE
OR
THE CONTRACTION AND EXPANSION OF MATTER IN
SPACE

INTRODUCTION

No wonder if nature be in debt to philosophy and the sciences, seeing she has never yet been called on to render an account. For of the quantity of matter, and how it is distributed in bodies (abundantly in some, sparingly in others), no careful and methodical inquiry according to true and approximate calculations has been instituted. One axiom has been rightly received, namely, that nothing is taken from or added to the sum of the universe. And the question, how bodies may be relaxed and contracted more or less without the interposition of vacuum, has been handled by some. But with respect to the natures of Dense and Rare, one has referred them to abundance and paucity of matter; another has laughed at this idea; the majority, following their author, discuss and settle the whole matter by that frigid distinction between act and power. And even those who attribute these things to the proportions of matter (which is the true opinion), and do not maintain the first matter to be entirely deprived of quantity, though indifferent for other forms, yet end the inquiry here, and see nothing further, without perceiving what follows therefrom; and whereas the matter bears upon an infinity of things, and is as it were the basis of natural philosophy, they either do not touch, or at least do not press it.

In the first place, therefore, that which has been well laid down must not be disturbed, namely, that in no transmutation of bodies is there any reduction either from nothing or to nothing, but that it belongs to the same omnipotence to create something out of nothing as to turn something into nothing, and that this never happens in the course of nature. Therefore, the sum total of matter remains always the same, without addition or diminution. But that this sum of matter is variously distributed among different bodies cannot be doubted. For no one can be so demented by abstract subtleties as to imagine that one hogshead of water contains as much matter as ten, or that one hogshead of air contains as much as ten. That in the same body the quantity of matter is multiplied in proportion to the measure of the body no man questions, but whether it be so in different bodies is disputed. But if it be demonstrated that one hogshead of water turned into air is equal to ten hogsheads of air (I take this computation because of the common opinion, though a hundred would be nearer the truth), it is well, for now they are no longer different bodies, water and air—it is the same body of air contained in ten hogsheads. And one hogshead of air, as has been granted, is only a tenth part of ten hogsheads.

It can no longer be denied, therefore, that one hogshead of water contains ten times as much matter as one hogshead of air. And, therefore, to say that a whole hogshead of water can be turned into one hogshead of air, is as much as to say that something can be reduced to nothing; for as a tenth part of the water would be enough for this, the other nine parts must be annihilated. On the other hand, to say that a hogshead of air can be turned into a hogshead of water, is as much as to say that something can be created from nothing, for a hogshead of air will only make a tenth part of a hogshead of water, and therefore the other nine parts must needs be created from nothing. Meanwhile, I fully admit that to calculate the proportions and quantities of matter existing in different bodies, and to find by what industry and sagacity true information thereof may be procured, is a very difficult thing; though indeed it is amply compensated by the vast and universal utility of the inquiry. For to know the densities and rarities of bodies, and much more, to procure and accomplish the condensations and rarefactions thereof, is a point of first importance both for contemplation and practice. Seeing, therefore, that it is a thing of all others the most fundamental and universal, we must gird ourselves up to deal with it; for indeed without it all philosophy is utterly disorderly.

THE HISTORY

A Table showing the Contraction and Expansion of Matter in respect
of Space in Tangible Bodies (such as are endowed with Weight); with a
Computation of the Proportions in Different Bodies.

The same space is occupied by a quantity of

The manner of the experiment with respect to the foregoing table

The weights here used are the same as those used by goldsmiths: the pound consisting of 12 ounces, the ounce of 20 pennyweights, and the pennyweight of 24 grains. And I chose pure gold as the standard to which other bodies should be referred because gold is not only the heaviest, but likewise the most uniform and consistent substance there is, having nothing volatile about it.

The experiment was this: I formed an ounce of pure gold into the shape of a die or cube. I then prepared a small hollow prism of silver in which the cube of gold might be placed so as exactly to fit, only that the height of the prism was somewhat greater, the place inside to which the top of the cube reached being marked with a conspicuous line. This I did for the sake of fluids and powders, that when a fluid was poured into the prism up to that height, it might have a little margin to keep it from overflowing. At the same time I had another prism made, exactly equal to the other in weight and dimension, that the two prisms being in all respects alike, the proportions of the bodies contained therein might be exactly compared. Next I had cubes made of the same size and dimension in all the matters specified in the Table, that admit of being cut into that shape, but fluids I made trial of at once, by filling the prism with the fluid up to the line that had been marked. And I did the same with powders, first pressing them together as close as possible, for this tends to make them uniform, and excludes accidental differences.

Therefore, the trial was no other than this: one of the prisms was placed in one scale empty, the other with the body in it in the other, and so the weight of the body contained was taken separately. Now by how much the weight of a body is less than the weight of gold, by so much is the bulk of that body greater than the bulk of gold. For example, since the cube of gold weighs one ounce, and the cube of myrrh one pennyweight, it is manifest that the bulk of myrrh in proportion to the bulk of gold is as twenty to one, so that there is twenty times as much matter in gold as in an equal bulk of myrrh; and again there is twenty times as much bulk in myrrh as in an equal weight of gold.

Admonitions

1. The smallness of the vessel employed, and the shape also (though convenient for receiving these cubes), were not favorable for verifying the exact proportions. For it was not easy to take differences of weight below a quarter of a grain, and besides, in that square surface a slight and insensible increase of height might carry with it a sensible difference in weight, which is not the case in vessels which rise to a point.

2. No doubt but many of the bodies set down in the Table admit of more and less, as to gravity and bulk, in their own species. For both wines and woods of the same species vary in weight, some being certainly heavier than others, and so do certain other of the substances enumerated. Therefore, with respect to nice calculation there is some uncertainty. And, moreover, those individuals with which my experiment deals, may not represent exactly the nature of their species, nor perhaps agree to a nicety with the experiments of others.

3. In the above Table I have included such bodies as could conveniently be made to fill up the space or measure, the body remaining entire and uniform; and such likewise as have weight, from the proportion of which I formed a judgment of the amount of matter collected. There are, therefore, three kinds of bodies which could not be included: first, those which will not go into the shape of a cube, as leaves, flowers, pellicles, and membranes; secondly, those which are unequally hollow and porous, as sponge, cork, and wool; and thirdly, pneumatic bodies, as air and flame, because they are not endowed with weight.

4. It should be observed whether the close contraction of a body may not, by reason of the union of force, give it a greater degree of weight than in proportion to the quantity of matter. Whether this be so or not should be inquired from the particular history of Gravity. If it be so, the calculation no doubt fails, and the more rarefied a body is, the more matter will it contain within the same bulk than would appear from a calculation founded upon the weight as compared with the measurement. This Table I constructed many years ago, and (as I recollect) took considerable pains about it. But a much more accurate Table may no doubt be made, consisting of a greater number of bodies, measured on a larger scale, a thing that contributes greatly to exactness in the matter of proportions. And seeing that this is fundamental to the subject, such a Table should by all means be prepared.

Observations

1. Here we may observe with satisfaction how finite and comprehensible the nature of things is in tangible bodies. For the Table brings nature as it were within the grasp. Let no one wander off, therefore, or indulge in fancies and dreams. In this Table there is no substance found that exceeds any other substance in quantity of matter beyond the proportion of 32 to 1, which is the proportion in which gold exceeds fir wood. Of things in the interior of the earth, however, I say nothing, seeing that they are not subject either to sense or experiment. These, it may be, being both far removed and completely separated from the heat of the heavenly bodies, are more dense than any known bodies.

2. The opinion that all sublunary bodies are composed of the four elements is ill borne out. For the cube of gold in the prism weighed 20 pennyweights; the common earth only a little more than 2; water 1 pennyweight, 3 grains; air and fire are more rarefied, and less materiate, and of no weight at all. Now form does not increase matter. The question is, therefore, how it is possible from a body of 2 pennyweights, together with others far more rarefied, to educe by form a body which in an equal dimension weighs 20 pennyweights. There are two ways of escaping the difficulty. It may be said, first, that the more rarefied elements press the denser into a greater density than that of the simple elements; secondly, that the Peripatetics do not understand this of common but of elementary earth, which is heavier than any compound substance. But for the first, fire and air do not condense except by accident, as shall be shown in its proper place. And for the second, that earth, which should be heavier than gold and everything else, is so situated as to be scarce available for mixture. It would be better, therefore, that they should give up trifling, and that the dictatorship should cease.

3. The series or scale of closeness in matter should be carefully observed, and how it passes from a greater to a lesser, and that sometimes by steps, sometimes by jumps. For this speculation is useful both for judgment and practice. This closeness is greatest in metallic and subterraneous bodies, so that of the 32 parts they possess 12, such being the distance between gold and pewter. In this descent there is a great leap from gold and quicksilver to lead; but a gradual incline from lead to tin. Again, there is a great leap from metals to stones, except that the magnet intervenes, which is thereby proved to be a metallic stone. But from stones to the other bodies down to the very lightest the descent is very gradual and continual.

Injunctions

1. The source of density being, as it seems, in the depth of the earth, so that towards its surface bodies are extremely extenuated, it is worthy of remark that gold (which is the heaviest of metals) is yet sometimes found in the sands and deposits of rivers, and that nearly in a pure state. Careful inquiry should therefore be made as to the situation of such places, whether they do not lie at the foot of mountains, the roots and foundations whereof may be compared with the deepest mines, and whether gold be not washed away from thence. Or what it is that produces such a condensation so near the surface of the earth.

2. There should be an inquiry touching mines in general: which kinds are usually the deeper, and which nearer the surface of the earth; in what regions and in what soils they are formed; how they are with reference to water; but most of all in what beds they lie, and with what stones or other fossils they are surrounded or mixed. In short, everything pertaining to them should be examined, to discover by what means the juices and spirits of the earth are united or compressed into that metallic condensation, which so far exceeds all others.

Observations

4. There is no doubt but that both in vegetables and likewise in the parts of animals there are many bodies to be found far lighter than fir wood. For the down of some plants, wings of flies, the slough of snakes, and also various artificial productions, as tender rose leaves remaining after distillation, and the like, are (as I conceive) lighter than the lightest woods.

5. That idea to which the human mind is prone, namely, that hard bodies are the densest, is to be checked and corrected. For quicksilver is a fluid, gold and lead are soft, yet these are denser and heavier than the hardest metals (iron and brass) and much more so than stones.

6. In the Table there are many unexpected results. For instance, that metals are so much heavier than stones; that glass (a refined body) is heavier than crystal (a congealed body); that common earth has so little weight; that the distilled oils of vitriol and sulfur are nearly as heavy as the raw substances; that there is so little difference between the weight of water and wine; that chemical oils (which would seem to be more fine and subtle) are heavier than expressed oils; that bone is so much heavier than horn and teeth; and many other things of a similar character.

Injunction

3. The nature of Dense and Rare, though it pervades nearly all other natures without being subject to their laws, appears only to have a great agreement with Heavy and Light. But I suspect that it has likewise something in common with the slow and quick reception and rejection of heat and cold. Make experiment, therefore, whether rare bodies do not admit and lose heat or cold more quickly than dense ones. And try this in gold, lead, stone, wood, and the like; but do it with the same degree of heat, and with the same quantity and figure of body.

Reminders concerning Practice

1. All mixture of bodies may be detected and disclosed by means of the Table and Weights. For if you wish to find how much water is mixed with wine, or how much lead with gold, and the like, weigh the mixture, and then consult the Table of specific gravities. The mean proportion of the compound compared with the simples will give the quantity of the mixture. I suppose this was the eureka of Archimedes, but at any rate the thing is so.

2. The manufacture of gold, or the transmutation of metals into gold, is to be much doubted of. For of all bodies gold is the heaviest and densest, and therefore to turn anything else into gold there must needs be condensation. But condensation (especially in very materiate bodies, as metals are) can scarce be superinduced by us men who live on the surface of the earth. For most condensations by fire are pseudocondensations with respect to the entire body (as will afterwards appear), that is, they condense bodies in certain of their parts, but not in the whole.

3. But the conversion of quicksilver or lead into silver (which is rarer than either of them) is a thing to be hoped for, since it only implies fixation, and some other things, but not condensation.

4. Notwithstanding, if quicksilver, lead, or any other metal could be turned into gold so far as to have all the other properties thereof, except weight, that is, if they could be made more fixed, more malleable, more ductile, more durable, less subject to rust, brighter, yellower, and the like, it would doubtless be both profitable and useful, even though they did not acquire the weight of gold.

Observation

7. There is nothing heavier than gold, and up to this time no invention has been discovered to make pure gold heavier by art.

It has been remarked, however, that lead increases both in bulk and weight, especially if it be stored in cellars under ground, where things soon gather rust. This has been principally detected in stone statues, whose feet were fastened with leaden bands. For these bands have been found to swell, so that portions of them hung from the stones like warts. But whether this were an increase of the lead, or a sprouting of vitriol, should be more fully inquired.

SYLVA SYLVARUM
OR
A NATURAL HISTORY IN TEN CENTURIES

To the Most High and Mighty
PRINCE CHARLES
by the Grace of God, King of Great Britain, France, and Ireland,
Defender of the Faith, etc.

May it please Your Most Excellent Majesty,

The whole body of the Natural History, either designed or written by the late Lord Viscount St. Albans, was dedicated to Your Majesty, in his book De Ventis, about four years past, when Your Majesty was Prince. So there needed no new dedication to this work, but only in all humbleness to let Your Majesty know it is yours. It is true, if that Lord had lived, Your Majesty ere long had been invoked to the protection of another History, whereof, not Nature’s kingdom, as in this, but these of Your Majesty’s (during the time and reign of King Henry the Eighth) had been the subject, which since it died under the designation merely, there is nothing left but Your Majesty’s princely goodness, graciously to accept of the undertaker’s heart and intentions, who was willing to have parted for a while with his darling philosophy, that he might have attended your royal commandment in that other work. Thus much I have been bold in all lowliness to represent unto Your Majesty, as one that was trusted with his Lordship’s writings even to the last. And as this work affects the stamp of Your Majesty’s royal protection, to make it more current to the world, so under the protection of this work, I presume in all humbleness to approach Your Majesty’s presence and to offer it up into your sacred hands.

Your Majesty’s most loyal and devoted subject,
W. RAWLEY

NATURAL HISTORY

Century I

Experiments in consort touching the straining and passing of bodies one
through another; which they call Percolation

1. Dig a pit upon the sea shore, somewhat above the high water mark, and sink it as deep as the low water mark, and as the tide comes in, it will fill with water, fresh and potable. This is commonly practiced upon the coast of Barbary, where other fresh water is wanting. And Caesar knew this well when he was besieged in Alexandria, for by digging of pits in the sea shore, he did frustrate the laborious works of the enemies, who had turned the sea water upon the wells of Alexandria, and so saved his army, being then in desperation. But Caesar mistook the cause, for he thought that all sea sands had natural springs of fresh water. But it is plain that it is the sea water, because the pit fills according to the measure of the tide and the sea water passing or straining through the sands leaves the saltiness.

2. I remember to have read that trial has been made of salt water passed through earth, through ten vessels and one within another, and yet it has not lost its saltiness, as to become potable. But the same man says that (by the relation of another) salt water drained through twenty vessels has become fresh. This experiment seems to cross that other of pits made by the seaside, and yet, but in part, if it be true that twenty repetitions do the effect. But it is worth the note, how poor the imitations of nature are in common course of experiments, except they be led by great judgment and some good light of axioms. For first, there is no small difference between a passage of water through twenty small vessels, and through such a distance as between the low water and high water mark. Secondly, there is a great difference between earth and sand, for all earth has in it a kind of nitrous salt, from which sand is more free. And besides, earth does not strain the water so finely as sand does. But there is a third point that I suspect as much or more than the other two, and that is, that in the experiment of transmission of the sea water into the pits the water rises, but in the experiment of transmission of the water through the vessels it falls. Now, certain it is that the saltier part of water (once salted throughout) goes to the bottom. And, therefore, no marvel if the draining of water by descent does not make it fresh. Besides, I do somewhat doubt that the very dashing of the water that comes from the sea is more proper to strike off the salt part than where the water slides of her own motion.

3. It seems percolation, or transmission (which is commonly called straining) is a good kind of separation, not only of thick from thin, and gross from fine, but of more subtle natures, and varies according to the body through which the transmission is made, as if through a woolen bag the liquor leaves the fatness, if through sand, the saltiness, etc. They speak of severing wine from water, passing it through ivy wood, or through a similar porous body, but this is not constant.

4. The gum of trees (which we see to be commonly shining and clear) is but a fine passage or straining of the juice of the tree through the wood and bark. And in like manner, Cornish diamonds and rock rubies (which are yet more resplendent than gums) are the fine exudations of stone.

5. Aristotle gives the cause, vainly, why the feathers of birds are of more lively colors than the hairs of beasts, for no beast has any fine azure, or carnation, or green hair. He says it is because birds are more in the beams of the sun than beasts, but that is manifestly untrue for cattle are more in the sun than birds that live commonly in the woods, or in some covert. The true cause is that the excrementitious moisture of living creatures, which makes as well the feathers in birds as the hair in beasts, passes in birds through a finer and more delicate strainer than it does in beasts, for feathers pass through quills, and hair through skin.

6. The clarifying of liquors by adhesion is an inward percolation and is effected when some cleaving body is mixed and agitated with the liquors, whereby the grosser part of the liquor sticks to that cleaving body, and so the finer parts are freed from the grosser. So the apothecaries clarify their syrups by whites of eggs, beaten with the juices which they would clarify, which whites of eggs gather all the dregs and grosser parts of the juice to them, and after the syrup being set on the fire, the whites of eggs themselves harden, and are taken forth. So hippocras is clarified by mixing with milk and stirring it about and then passing it through a woolen bag, which they call Hippocrates Sleeve, and the cleaving nature of the milk draws the powder of the spices and grosser parts of the liquor to it, and in the passage they stick upon the woolen bag.

7. The clarifying of water is an experiment tending to health, besides the pleasure of the eye, when water is crystalline. It is effected by casting in and placing pebbles at the head of a current, that the water may strain through them.

8. It may be that percolation does not only cause clearness and splendor, but sweetness of savor, for that also follows as well as clearness when the finer parts are severed from the grosser. So it is found that the sweats of men that have much heat, and exercise much, and have clean bodies and fine skins, do smell sweet, as was said of Alexander and we see commonly that gums have sweet odors.

Experiments in consort touching motion of bodies upon their pressure

9. Take a glass, and put water into it, and wet your finger, and draw it round about the lip of the glass, pressing it somewhat hard, and after you have drawn it some few times about, it will make the water frisk and sprinkle up in a fine dew. This instance does excellently demonstrate the force of compression in a solid body. For whenever a solid body (as wood, stone, metal, etc.) is pressed, there is an inward tumult in the parts thereof, seeking to deliver themselves from the compression. And this is the cause of all violent motion. Wherein it is strange in the highest degree, that this motion has never been observed nor inquired, it being of all motions the most common, and the chief root of all mechanical operations. This motion works in round at first, by way of proof and search which way to deliver itself, and then works in progress, where it finds the deliverance easiest. In liquors this motion is visible, for all liquors stricken make round circles and withal dash, but in solids (which break not) it is as subtle as it is invisible, but nevertheless betrays itself by many effects, as in this instance whereof we speak. For the pressure of the finger, furthered by the wetting (because it sticks so much the better unto the lip of the glass) after some continuance, puts all the small parts of the glass into work, that they strike the water sharply, from which percussion that sprinkling comes.

10. If you strike or pierce a solid body that is brittle, as glass or sugar, it breaks not only where the immediate force is, but breaks all about into shivers, the motion upon the pressure, searching all ways, and breaking where it finds the body weakest.

11. The powder in shot, being dilated into such a flame as endures not compression, moves likewise in round (the flame being in the nature of a liquid body), sometimes recoiling, sometimes breaking the piece, but generally discharging the bullet, because there it finds easiest deliverance.

12. This motion upon pressure, and the reciprocal thereof, which is motion upon tension, we call (by one common name) motion of liberty, which is, when any body being forced to a preternatural extent or dimension, delivers and restores itself to the natural, as when a blown bladder (pressed) rises again, or when leather or cloth stretched spring back. These two motions (of which there are infinite instances) we shall handle in due place.

13. This motion upon pressure is excellently also demonstrated in sounds, as when one chimes upon a bell, it sounds, but as soon as he lays his hand upon it, the sound ceases. And so the sound of a virginal string, as soon as the quill of the jack falls from it, stops. For these sounds are produced by the subtle percussion of the minute parts of the bell or string upon the air, all one, as the water is caused to leap by the subtle percussion of the minute parts of the glass upon the water, whereof we spoke a little before in the ninth experiment. For you must not take it to be the local shaking of the bell or string that does it, as we shall fully declare when we come hereafter to handle sounds.

Experiments in consort touching separations of bodies by weight

14. Take a glass with a belly and a long neck. Fill the belly (in part) with water. Take also another glass, whereinto put claret wine and water mingled. Reverse the first glass, with the belly upwards, stopping the neck with your finger, then dip the mouth of it within the second glass and remove your finger. Continue it in that posture for a time and it will unmingle the wine from the water, the wine ascending and settling in the top of the upper glass, and the water descending and settling into the bottom of the lower glass. The passage is apparent to the eye, for you shall see the wine, as it were in a small vein, rising through the water. For ease of manipulation (because the working requires some small time), it were good you hang the upper glass upon a nail. But as soon as there is gathered so much pure and unmixed water in the bottom of the lower glass as that the mouth of the upper glass dips into it, the motion ceases.

15. Let the upper glass be wine, and the lower water, there follows no motion at all. Let the upper glass be water pure, the lower water colored, or contrariwise, there follows no motion at all. But it has been tried, that though the mixture of wine and water in the lower glass be three parts water and but one wine, yet it does not deaden the motion. This separation of water and wine appears to be made by weight, for it must be of bodies of unequal weight, or else it works not, and the heavier body must ever be in the upper glass. But then note withal, that the water being made pensile, and there being a great weight of water in the belly of the glass, sustained by a small pillar of water in the neck of the glass, it is that which sets the motion to work, for water and wine in one glass, with long standing, will hardly sever.

16. The experiment should be extended from mixtures of several liquors, to simple bodies which consist of several similar parts. Try it, therefore, with brine or salt water, and fresh water; placing the salt water (which is the heavier) in the upper glass, and see whether the fresh will come above. Try it also with water thick sugared and pure water, and see whether the water which comes above will lose its sweetness, for which purpose it were good there were a little cock made in the belly of the upper glass.

Experiments in consort touching the judicious and accurate infusions,
both in liquors and air

17. In bodies containing fine spirits which do easily dissipate, when you make infusions, the rule is: a short stay of the body in the liquor receives the spirits, and a longer stay confounds it because it draws forth the earthy part withal, which debases the finer. And, therefore, it is an error in physicians to rest simply upon the length of stay for increasing the virtue. But if you will have the infusion strong, in those kinds of bodies which have fine spirits, your way is not to give longer time, but to repeat the infusion of the body more often. Take violets and infuse a good pugil of them in a quart of vinegar. Let them stay three quarters of an hour, and take them forth, and refresh the infusion with like quantity of new violets seven times, and it will make a vinegar so fresh of the flower, as if a twelvemonth after it be brought you in a saucer, you shall smell it before it comes at you. Note, that it smells more perfectly of the flower a good while after than at first.

18. This rule which we have given is of singular use for the preparation of medicines and other infusions. For example, the leaf of burrage has an excellent spirit to repress the fuliginous vapor of dusky melancholy, and so to cure madness, but nevertheless, if the leaf be infused long, it yields forth but a raw substance of no virtue. Therefore, I suppose that if in the must of wine or wort of beer (while it works, before it be put in casks), the burrage stay a small time, and be often changed with fresh, it will make a sovereign drink for melancholy passions. And the like I conceive of orange flowers.

19. Rhubarb has manifestly in it parts of contrary operations—parts that purge, and parts that bind the body—and the first lie looser, and the latter lie deeper, so that if you infuse rhubarb for an hour and crush it well, it will purge better, and bind the body less after the purging than if it stood twenty-four hours. This is tried. But I conceive likewise, that by repeating the infusion of rhubarb several times (as was said of violets) letting each stay in but a small time, you may make it as strong a purging medicine as scammony. And it is not a small thing won in physic, if you can make rhubarb, and other medicines that are benign, as strong purgers as those that are not without some malignity.

20. Purging medicines for the most part have their purgative virtue in a fine spirit, as appears by the fact that they endure not boiling without much loss of virtue. And, therefore, it is of good use in physic, if you can retain the purging virtue, and take away the unpleasant taste of the purger, which it is like you may do by this course of infusing often with little stay. For it is probable that the horrible and odious taste is the grosser part.

21. Generally, the working by infusions is gross and blind, except you first try the issuing of the several parts of the body, which of them issue more speedily, and which more slowly and so by apportioning the time, can take and leave that quality which you desire. To know this, there are two ways: the one to try what long stay and what short stay works, as has been said, the other to try in order the succeeding infusions of one and the same body, successively, in several liquors. For example, take orange pills, or rosemary, or cinnamon, or what you will, and let them infuse half an hour in water. Then take them out and infuse them again in other water, and so the third time. And then taste and consider the first water, the second, and the third, and you will find them differing, not only in strength and weakness, but otherwise in taste or odor. For it may be the first water will have more of the scent, as more fragrant, and the second more of the taste, as more bitter or biting, etc.

22. Infusions in air (for so we may well call odors) have the same diversities with infusions in water, in that the several odors (which are in one flower or other body) issue at several times, some earlier, some later. So we find that violets, woodbines, strawberries, yield a pleasing scent that comes forth first, but soon after an ill scent, quite differing from the former, which is caused not so much by mellowing, as by the late issuing of the grosser spirit.

23. As we may desire to extract the finest spirits in some cases, so we may desire also to discharge them (as hurtful) in some other. So wine burnt, by reason of the evaporating of the finer spirit, inflames less, and is best in agues. Opium loses some of his poisonous quality, if it be vapored out, mingled with spirit of wine, or the like; sean loses somewhat of his windiness by decocting, and (generally) subtle or windy spirits are taken off by incension or evaporation. And even in infusions in things that are of two high a spirit, you were better to pour off the first infusion, after a small time, and use the latter.

Experiment solitary touching the appetite of continuation in liquids

24. Bubbles are in the form of a hemisphere; air within, and a little skin of water without. And it seems somewhat strange, that the air should rise so swiftly while it is in the water, and when it comes to the top, should be stayed by so weak a cover as that of the bubble is. But as for the swift ascent of the air, while it is under the water, that is a motion of percussion from the water, which itself descending drives up the air, and no motion of levity in the air. And this Democritus called motus plagae. In this common experiment, the cause of the enclosure of the bubble is that the appetite to resist separation or discontinuance (which in solid bodies is strong) is also in liquors, though fainter and weaker, as we see in this of the bubble. We see it also in little glasses of spittle that children make of rushes, and in castles of bubbles, which they make by blowing into water, having obtained a little degree of tenacity by mixture of soap. We see it also in the stillicides of water, which, if there be water enough to follow, will draw themselves into a small thread because they will not discontinue, but if there be no remedy, then they cast themselves into round drops, which is the figure that saves the body most from discontinuance. The same reason is of the roundness of the bubble, as well for the skin of water as for the air within, for the air likewise avoids discontinuance and, therefore, casts itself into a round figure. And for the stop and arrest of the air a little while, it shows that the air of itself has little or no appetite of ascending.

Experiment solitary touching the making of artificial springs

25. The rejection which I continually make of experiments (though it appears not) is infinite, but yet if an experiment be probable in the work, and of great use, I receive it, but deliver it as doubtful. It was reported by a sober man, that an artificial spring may be made thus: Find out a hanging ground, where there is a good quick fall of rain water. Lay a halftrough of stone, of a good length, three or four foot deep within the same ground, with one end upon the high ground, the other upon the low. Cover the trough with ferns a good thickness and cast sand upon the top of the ferns. You shall see (says he) that after some showers are past, the lower end of the trough will run like a spring of water, which is no marvel, if it hold while the rain water lasts, but he said it would continue long after the rain is past, as if the water did multiply itself upon the air, by the help of the coldness and condensation of the earth, and the consort of the first water.

MEDICAL REMAINS

A Medical Paper of the Lord Bacon’s, to
which he gave the title of Grains of Youth

Take of niter four grains, of ambergris three grains, of orris-powder two grains, of white poppy seed the fourth part of a grain, of saffron half a grain, with water of orange flowers, and a little tragacanth. Make them into small grains, four in number. To be taken at four a-clock, or going to bed.

Preserving ointments

Take of deer’s suet one ounce, of myrrh six grains, of saffron five grains, of bay salt twelve grains, of Canary wine of two years old, a spoonful and a half. Spread it on the inside of your shirt, and let it dry, and then put in on.

A purge familiar for opening the liver

Take rhubarb two drams, agaric trochiscat one dram and a half, steep them in claret wine burnt with mace. Take of wormwood one dram, steep it with the rest, and make a mass of pills with syrup. acetos. simplex. But drink an opening broth before it, with succory, fennel, and smallage roots, and a little of an onion.

Wine for the spirits

Take gold perfectly refined three ounces, quench it six or seven times in good claret wine. Add of niter six grains for two draughts. Add of saffron prepared three grains, of ambergris four grains. Pass it through a hippocras bag wherein there is a dram of cinnamon gross beaten, or, to avoid the dimming of the color, of ginger. Take two spoonsful of this to a draught of fresh claret wine.

The preparing of saffron

Take six grains of saffron, steeped in half parts of wine and rose water, and a quarter part vinegar, then dry it in the sun.

Wine against adverse melancholy,
preserving the senses and the reason

Take the roots of bugloss well scraped, and cleansed from their inner pith, and cut them into small slices. Steep them in wine of gold extinguished ut suprà, and add of niter three grains, and drink it ut suprà, mixed with fresh wine. The roots must not continue steeped above a quarter of an hour, and they must be changed thrice.

Breakfast preservative against the gout and rheums

To take once in the month at least, and for two days together, one grain of castorei in my ordinary broth.

The preparation of garlic

Take garlic four ounces, boil it upon a soft fire in claret wine for half an hour. Take it out and steep it in vinegar, whereto add two drams of cloves, then take it forth and keep it in a glass for use.

The artificial preparation of damask roses, for smell

Take roses, pull their leaves, then dry them in a clear day in the hot sun; then their smell will be as gone. Then cram them into an earthen bottle, very dry and sweet, and stop it very close. They will remain in smell and color both, fresher than those that are otherwise dried. Note, the first drying, and close keeping upon it, prevents all putrefaction, and the second spirit comes forth, made of the remaining moisture not dissipated.

A restorative drink

Take of Indian maize half a pound, grind it not too small, but to the fineness of ordinary meal, and then bolt and serce it, that all the husky part may be taken away. Take of eryngium roots three ounces, of dates as much, of enula two drams, of mace three drams, and brew them with ten-shilling beer to the quantity of four gallons. And this do, either by decocting them in a pottle of wort, to be after mingled with the beer, being new tapped, or otherwise infuse it in the new beer in a bag. Use this familiarly at meals.

Against the waste of the body by heat

Take sweet pomegranates, and strain them lightly, not pressing the kernel, into a glass, where put some little of the peel of a citron and two or three cloves and three grains of ambergris, and a pretty deal of fine sugar. It is to be drunk every morning while pomegranates last.

Methusalem Water. Against all asperity and
torrefaction of inward parts, and all adustion of
the blood and generally against the dryness of age

Take crevises very new, q.s. Boil them well in claret wine. Of them take only the shells, and rub them very clean, especially on the inside, that they may be thoroughly cleansed from the meat. Then wash them three or four times in fresh claret wine, heated, still changing the wine, till all the fish taste be quite taken away. But in the wine wherein they are washed, steep some tops of green rosemary. Then dry the pure shell thoroughly, and bring them to an exquisite powder. Of this powder take three drams. Take also pearl, and steep them in vinegar twelve hours, and dry off the vinegar, of this powder also three drams. Then put the shell powder and the pearl powder together and add to them of ginger one scruple, and of white poppy seed half a scruple, and steep them in spirit of wine (wherein six grains of saffron have been dissolved) seven hours. Then upon a gentle heat vapor away all the spirit of wine and dry the powder against the sun without fire. Add to it of niter one dram, of ambergris one scruple and a half; and so keep this powder for use in a clear glass. Then take a pottle of milk, and slice in it of fresh cucumbers, the inner pith only (the rind being pared off), four ounces, and draw forth a water by distillation. Take of claret wine a pint, and quench gold in it four times.

Of the wine, and of the water of milk, take of each three ounces, of the powder one scruple, and drink it in the morning. Stir up the powder when you drink, and walk upon it.

An extract by the Lord Bacon, for his own use, out of the book of the
prolongation of life, together with some new advices in order to health.

1. Once in the week, or at least in the fortnight, to take the water of mithridate distilled, with three parts to one, of strawberry-water to allay it, and some grains of niter and saffron in the morning between sleeps.

2. To continue my broth with niter, but to interchange it every other two days with the juice of pomegranates expressed, with a little cloves, and rind of citron.

3. To order the taking of the maceration as follows:

To add to the maceration six grains of cremor tartari, and as much enula.

To add to the oxymel some infusion of fennel roots in the vinegar, and four grains of angelica seed, and juice of lemons, a third part to the vinegar.

To take it not so immediately before supper, and to have the broth specially made with barley, rosemary, thyme, and cresses.

4. To take once in the month at least, and for two days together, a grain and a half of castor in my broth and breakfast.

5. A cooling clyster to be used once a month, after the working of the maceration is settled.

Take of barley water, in which the roots of bugloss are boiled, three ounces, with two drams of red sanders, and two ounces of raisins of the sun, and one ounce of dactyles, and an ounce and a half of fat caricks. Let it be strained, and add to it an ounce and a half of syrup of violets. Let a clyster be made. Let this be taken (with veal) in the aforesaid decoction.

6. To take every morning the fume of lign-aloes, rosemary and bays dried, which I use, but once in a week to add a little tobacco, without otherwise taking it in a pipe.

7. To appoint every day an hour ad affectus intenionales et sanos. Qu. de particulari.

8. To remember masticatories for the mouth.

9. And orange flower water to be smelt to or snuffed up.

10. In the third hour after the sun is risen, to take in air from some high and open place, with a ventilation of rosae moschatae, and fresh violets, and to stir the earth, with infusion of wine and mint.

11. To use ale with a little enula campana, carduus, germander, sage, angelica seed, cresses of a middle age, to beget a robust heat.

12. Mithridate thrice a year.

13. A bit of bread dipped in vino odorato, with syrup of dry roses and a little amber, at going to bed.

14. Never to keep the body in the same posture above half an hour at a time.

15. Four precepts. To break off custom. To shake off spirits ill disposed. To meditate on youth. To do nothing against a man’s genius.

16. Syrup of quinces for the mouth of the stomach. Inquire concerning other things useful in that kind.

17. To use once during supper time wine in which gold is quenched.

18. To use anointing in the morning lightly with oil of almonds, with salt and saffron, and a gentle rubbing.

19. Ale of the second infusion of the vine of oak.

20. Methusalem water, of pearls and shells, of crabs, and a little chalk.

21. Ale of raisins, dactyles, potatoes, pistachios, honey, tragacanth, mastic.

22. Wine with swines-flesh or harts-flesh.

23. To drink the first cup at supper hot, and half an hour before supper something hot and aromatised.

24. Chalybeats four times a year.

25. Pilulae ex tribus, once in two months, but after the mass has been macerated in oil of almonds.

26. Heroic desires.

27. Bathing of the feet once in a month, with lie ex sale nigro, chamomile, sweet marjoram, fennel, sage, and a little aqua vitae.

28. To provide always an apt breakfast.

29. To beat the flesh before roasting of it.

30. Macerations in pickles.

31. Agitation of beer by ropes or in wheelbarrows.

32. That diet is good which makes lean, and then renews. Consider of the ways to effect it.

MEDICAL RECEIPTS OF THE LORD BACON’S

The first receipt, or his Lordship’s
broth and fomentation for the stone

The broth

Take one dram of eryngium roots, cleansed and sliced, and boil them together with a chicken. In the end, add of elder flowers and marigold flowers together, one pugil, of angelica seed half a dram, of raisins of the sun stoned, fifteen; of rosemary, thyme, mace, together, a little.

In six ounces of this broth or thereabouts, let there be dissolved of white cremor tartari three grains.

Every third or fourth day, take a small toast of manchet, dipped in oil of sweet almonds new drawn, and sprinkled with a little loaf sugar.

You may make the broth for two days, and take the one half every day.

If you find the stone to stir, forbear the toast for a course or two.

The intention of this broth is not to void, but to undermine the quarry of the stones in the kidneys.

The fomentation

Take of leaves of violets, mallows, pellitory of the wall, together, one handful; of flowers of chamomile and mellilot, together, one pugil; the root of marshmallows, one ounce; of anise and fennel seeds, together, one ounce and half; of flax seed two drams. Make a decoction in spring water.

The second receipt, showing the way of making a certain
ointment, which his Lordship called Unguentum fragrans,
sive Romanum, the fragrant or Roman unguent

Take of the fat of a deer, half a pound; of oil of sweet almonds, two ounces. Let them be set upon a very gentle fire, and stirred with a stick of juniper till they are melted.

Add of root of flower-de-luce powered, damask roses powdered, together, one dram; of myrrh dissolved in rose water, half a dram; of cloves, half a scruple; of civet, four grains; of musk, six grains; of oil of mace expressed, one drop; as much of rose water as suffices to keep the unguent from being too thick.

Let all these be put together in a glass and set upon the embers for the space of an hour, and stirred with a stick of juniper.

Note, that in the confection of this ointment, there was not used above a quarter of a pound, and a tenth part of a quarter of deer’s suet, and that all the ingredients, except the oil of almonds, were doubled when the ointment was half made, because the fat things seemed to be too predominant.

The third receipt. A Manus Christi for the stomach

Take of the best pearls very finely pulverized, one dram; of sal niter, one scruple; of tartar, two scruples; of ginger and galingal together, one ounce and a half; of calamus, root of enula campana, nutmeg, together, one scruple and a half; of amber, sixteen grains; of the best musk, ten grains; with rose water and the finest sugar, let there be made a Manus Christi.

The fourth receipt. A secret for the stomach

Take lignum aloes in gross shavings, steep them in sack, or alicant, changed twice, half an hour at a time, till the bitterness be drawn forth. Then take the shavings forth, and dry them in the shade, and beat them to an excellent powder. Of that powder, with the syrup of citrons, make a small pill, to be taken before supper.

IV

NEW ATLANTIS

Published by Rawley after Bacon’s death in 1627, this work also is incomplete because it was supposed to include an account of the legal and political constitution of the idealized island of Bensalem. It is complete from the perspective of natural philosophy, however, because Bacon has given a full account of Solomon’s House, the scientific society of the island. The New Atlantis is not a direct contribution to one of the parts of the great instauration. Rather, it is a fable used by Bacon in his attempt to popularize the new science by providing a vision of the practical results that would follow from successful inductive and experimental practices. As such, it should be read as a popular story. To make it more enjoyable and easier to read, extensive editorial changes have been made. In addition to simplifying grammatical structures, many archaic words and phrases have been replaced. In a few places, however, such as in short salutations or prayers, the older style has been left so that the reader may see some of the historical and literary flavor of the original.

The structure of the story itself requires little exposition, although some significant elements may be pointed out. First, as a literary work, the title indicates Bacon’s intention to update the fable of Atlantis as described by Plato in Critias and Timaeus. Although the new Atlantis (Bensalem) is quite different from the original, Bacon appears to be expressing a belief in the existence of lost civilizations and lost wisdom, much as Plato had done. Such a belief can likewise be seen in Bacon’s speculations here about the Americas of the distant past. The fable also imitates Thomas More’s Utopia (to which Bacon alludes), as well as the popular travel literature of Bacon’s day. There is an interesting variation, however, on the typical encounter of European sailors with “savages”: here the sailors themselves are inferior to the citizens of the advanced civilization that they have encountered.

Secondly, the New Atlantis provides commentary on and criticism of some of the social and moral practices of seventeenth-century Europe. A few of them also reflect on episodes from Bacon’s own life. The citizens and officials of Bensalem reject being “twice-paid,” for example, indicating that taking money for a job in addition to salary (such as in accepting bribes) was seen as dishonorable. Bribery, although common in Bacon’s England, was the offense for which he was impeached. Another personal element is introduced after the account of the Feast of the Family when Joabin criticizes the European custom of a man’s marrying late in life and doing so as a business arrangement, which again is something that Bacon had done. Perhaps these sections represent expressions of regret. Bacon had learned from his own experience that these practices came with a heavy price.

From the standpoint of natural philosophy, the account of Solomon’s House is most significant, and the structure of the fable seems to indicate that it is the focus of the work as well. Solomon’s House is brought up twice prior to its full discussion. First it is introduced as a device to help explain how the island became Christian, and then it figures in the explanation of how the islanders remain unknown and yet possess knowledge of the rest of the world. Finally, the story builds up to the day when one of the Fathers of Solomon’s House visits the city. In the description of his entrance, Bacon indicates the supreme importance of the man by making use of both royal and religious symbolism. The Father arrives with great ceremony as a royal personage might, but he also wears or is accompanied by priestly trappings such as his tippet and crosier. When the narrator meets with him in a private audience a few days later, the narrator bows and kisses the hem of the Father’s tippet, who in turn apparently blesses the narrator.

The account of Solomon’s House, or the College of the Six Days Works, is given in four parts. In the first part, the end or goal of the college is the same as that which Bacon had propounded in The New Organon, a knowledge of causes and the power to produce effects. The second part, concerning the Preparations and Instruments of the College, is the lengthiest section. Bacon describes not only the types of instruments, laboratories, and experimental gardens used by the investigators but also the many inventions produced by these means. Most of all, this section serves as Bacon’s “manifesto”—his attempt to generate excitement for his reform of learning by showing the amazing benefits that would be produced by it. The third part concerns the “employments” of the fellows. What we see here is a rather hierarchical division of labor that has become common to most research institutions. On the one hand, there are those fellows who serve as gatherers, experimenters, and compilers; and on the other hand, there are those who interpret the work done by the first group. This is not as democratic a process as Bacon described elsewhere. An element of secrecy is introduced as well when the Father notes that some new knowledge may be withheld from the government—an indication of the political aspect of power and the authority that those with knowledge may exercise even over the state. Finally, the last part concerns the rites and ordinances of the College. In addition to assigning rewards and honors, the Fathers see it as their responsibility to predict natural disasters—once again a benefit that, if fulfilled, would justify the labor expended on Bacon’s ambitious project.

NEW ATLANTIS

We sailed from Peru (where we had stayed for one whole year) for China and Japan by the South Sea, taking with us provisions for twelve months, and had good winds from the east, though soft and weak, for five months’ space and more. But then the wind came about and settled in the west for many days, so that we could make little or no way, and we were sometimes tempted to turn back. But then again there arose strong and great winds from the south, with a point east; which carried us up (for all that we could do) towards the north, by which time our provisions failed us, though we had made good spare of them. So that finding ourselves in the midst of the greatest wilderness of waters in the world, without food, we gave ourselves for lost men and prepared for death. Yet we did lift up our hearts and voices to God above, who “shows his wonders in the deep,” beseeching him of his mercy, that as in the beginning he uncovered the face of the deep, and brought forth dry land, so he would now discover land to us that we might not perish.

And it came to pass that the next day about evening, we saw within sight before us, towards the north, as it were thick clouds, which did put us in some hope of land, knowing how that part of the South Sea was utterly unknown, and might have islands or continents that hitherto had not come to light. Therefore we headed for the appearance of land all that night, and in the dawning of the next day we did plainly discern that it was a land, flat to our sight, and full of woods, which made it show the more dark. And after an hour and a half’s sailing, we entered into a good haven, being the port of a fair city, not great indeed, but well built and that gave a pleasant view from the sea. And we, eager to be on land, came close to the shore and offered to land.

But straightway we saw diverse of the people with bastons in their hands, as it were forbidding us to land, yet without any cries or fierceness but only as warning us off by signs that they made. Whereupon being not a little discomforted, we were discussing with ourselves what we should do, during which time there made forth to us a small boat, with about eight persons in it. One of them who had in his hand a tipstaff of a yellow cane, tipped at both ends with blue, came aboard our ship without any show of distrust at all. And when he saw one of our number present himself somewhat before the rest, he drew forth a little scroll of parchment (somewhat yellower than our parchment, and shining like the leaves of writing tablets, but otherwise soft and flexible), and delivered it to our foremost man. In the scroll were written in ancient Hebrew, and in ancient Greek, and in good Latin of the School, and in Spanish, these words: “Land ye not, none of you; and provide to be gone from this coast within sixteen days, except you have further time given you. Meanwhile, if you want fresh water, or victual, or help for your sick, or that your ship needeth repair, write down your wants, and you shall have that which belongeth to mercy.” This scroll was signed with a stamp of cherubs’ wings, not spread but hanging downwards, and by them a cross.

This being delivered, the officer returned, and left only a servant with us to receive our answer. Consulting among ourselves, we were much perplexed. The denial of landing and hasty warning us away troubled us much. On the other side, to find that the people had languages and were so full of humanity, did comfort us not a little. And above all, the sign of the cross to that instrument was to us a great rejoicing, and as it were a certain prediction of good. Our answer was in the Spanish tongue, that for our ship, it was well, for we had rather met with calm and contrary winds than any tempests. For our sick, they were many, and some very ill, so that if they were not permitted to land, they ran danger of their lives. Our other wants we set down in particular, adding that we had some little store of merchandise, which if it pleased them to deal for, it might supply our wants without being chargeable to them. We offered some reward in pistolets [coin] to the servant, and a piece of crimson velvet to be presented to the officer. But the servant took them not, nor would he scarce look upon them, and so left us, and went back in another little boat which was sent for him.

About three hours after we had dispatched our answer, there came towards us a person (as it seemed) of place. He had on him a gown with wide sleeves, of a kind of water chamolet, of an excellent azure color, far more glossy than ours; his under apparel was green, and so was his hat, being in the form of a turban daintily made and not so huge as the Turkish turbans, and the locks of his hair came down below the brims of it. A reverend man was he to behold. He came in a boat, gilt in some part of it, with four other persons, and was followed by another boat with twenty persons in it. When he was within a flight-shot of our ship, signs were made to us that we should send forth some to meet him upon the water, which we presently did in our ship’s boat, sending the principal man among us save one, and four of our number with him. When we were within six yards of their boat, they called us to stop, and not to approach further, which we did.

And thereupon the man whom I before described stood up and with a loud voice in Spanish asked, “Are ye Christians?” We answered we were, fearing the less, because of the cross we had seen in the subscription. At which answer the said person lifted up his right hand towards heaven and drew it softly to his mouth (which is the gesture they use when they thank God), and then said: “If ye will swear (all of you) by the merits of the Savior that ye are not pirates, nor have shed blood lawfully nor unlawfully within forty days past, you may have license to come on land.” We said we were all ready to take that oath. Whereupon one of those that were with him, being (as it seemed) a notary, made an entry of this act. This done, another of the attendants of the great person, who was with him in the same boat, after his lord had spoken a little to him, said aloud: “My lord would have you know that it is not of pride or greatness that he comes not aboard your ship; but for that in your answer you declare that you have many sick amongst you. He was warned by the Conservator of Health of the city that he should keep a distance.”

We bowed ourselves towards him and answered that we were his humble servants, and accounted it a great honor and singular humanity towards us that which was already done; and hoped that the nature of the sickness of our men was not infectious. So he returned, and a while after a notary boarded our ship, holding in his hand a fruit of that country, like an orange, but of color between orange-tawny and scarlet, which cast a most excellent odor. He used it (as it seemed) for a preservative against infection. He gave us our oath: “by the name of Jesus and his merits,” and after told us that the next day by six o’clock in the morning we should be sent for and brought to the Strangers’ House (so he called it) where we should be accommodated of things both for our whole and for our sick. So he left us, and when we offered him some pistolets, he smiling said that he must not be “twice paid for one labor,” meaning (as I take it) that he had salary sufficient from the state for his service. For (as I after learned) they call an officer that takes rewards, “twice paid.”

The next morning early, there came to us the same officer that came to us at first with his cane, and told us he came to conduct us to the Strangers’ House, and that he had arrived early in order that we might have the whole day before us for our business. “For,” he said, “if you will follow my advice, there shall first go with me some few of you, and see the place, and how it may be made convenient for you; and then you may send for your sick, and the rest of your number which we will bring on land.” We thanked him and said that this care which he took of desolate strangers God would reward. And so six of us went on land with him. And when we were on land, he went before us, and turned to us, and said he was but our servant, and our guide. He led us through three fair streets, and all the way we went there were gathered some people on both sides standing in a row, but in so civil a fashion, as if it had been not to wonder at us but to welcome us. And diverse of them, as we passed by them, put their arms a little abroad, which is their gesture when they bid any welcome.

The Strangers’ House is a fair and spacious house, built of brick of a somewhat bluer color than our brick, and with handsome windows, some of glass, some of a kind of cambric oiled. He brought us first into a fair parlor above stairs, and then asked us what number of persons we were, and how many were sick. We answered, we were in all (sick and whole) one and fifty persons, whereof our sick were seventeen. He desired us to have patience and to stay till he came back to us, which was about an hour after. And then he led us to see the chambers which were provided for us, being in number nineteen, they having cast it (as it seemed) that four of those chambers, which were better than the rest, might receive four of the principal men of our company, and lodge them alone by themselves, and the other fifteen chambers were to lodge us two and two together. The chambers were handsome and cheerful, and furnished civilly. Then he led us to a long gallery, like a dormitory, where he showed us all along the one side (for the other side was but wall and window) seventeen cells, very neat ones, having partitions of cedar wood. Which gallery and cells, being in all forty, many more than we needed, were instituted as an infirmary for sick persons. And he told us that as any of our sick became well, he might be removed from his cell to a chamber, for which purpose there were set forth ten spare chambers, besides the number we spoke of before.

This done, he brought us back to the parlor and lifting up his cane a little (as they do when they give any charge or command), said to us, “Ye are to know that the custom of the law requireth that after this day and tomorrow, which we give you for removing your people from your ship, you are to keep within doors for three days. But let it not trouble you, nor do not think yourselves restrained, but rather left to your rest and ease. You shall want nothing, and there are six of our people appointed to attend you for any business you may have abroad.” We gave him thanks with all affection and respect, and said, “God surely is manifested in this land.” We offered him also twenty pistolets, but he smiled, and only said, “What? twice paid!” And so he left us.

Soon after, our dinner was served, which was right good, both for bread and meat, better than any collegiate diet that I have known in Europe. We had also drink of three sorts, all wholesome and good: wine of the grape, a drink of grain, such as is with us our ale but more clear, and a kind of cider made of a fruit of that country, a wonderfully pleasing and refreshing drink. Besides, there were brought in to us great store of those scarlet oranges for our sick, which (they said) were an assured remedy for sickness taken at sea. There was given us also a box of small gray or whitish pills, which they wished our sick should take, one of the pills every night before sleep, which (they said) would hasten their recovery.

The next day, after our trouble of removing our men and goods out of our ship was somewhat settled and quiet, I thought good to call our company together; and when they were assembled said unto them: “My dear friends, let us know ourselves, and how it stands with us. We are men cast on land, as Jonas was out of the whale’s belly, when we were buried in the deep, and now we are on land, we are but between death and life for we are beyond both the old world and the new, and whether ever we shall see Europe, God only knows. It is a kind of miracle has brought us here, and it must be little less that shall bring us hence. Therefore, in regard of our deliverance past, and our danger present and to come, let us look up to God, and every man reform his own ways. Besides, we are come here among a Christian people, full of piety and humanity. Let us not bring that confusion of face upon ourselves, as to show our vices or unworthiness before them. Yet there is more. For they have by commandment (though in form of courtesy) cloistered us within these walls for three days. Who knows whether it be not to take some taste of our manners and conditions? And if they find them bad, to banish us straightway; if good, to give us further time. For these men that they have given us for attendance may withal have an eye upon us. Therefore, for God’s love, and as we love the well-being of our souls and bodies, let us so behave ourselves as we may be at peace with God, and may find grace in the eyes of this people.” Our company, with one voice, thanked me for my good admonition and promised me to live soberly and civilly, and without giving any the least occasion of offense. So we spent our three days joyfully and without care, in expectation what would be done with us when they were expired. During which time, we had every hour joy of the amendment of our sick, who thought themselves cast into some divine pool of healing they mended so kindly and so fast.

The morrow after our three days were past, there came to us a new man that we had not seen before, clothed in blue as the former was, save that his turban was white with a small red cross on the top. He had also a cape of fine linen. At his coming in, he did bend to us a little, and put his arms abroad. We of our parts saluted him in a very lowly and submissive manner, thinking that from him we should receive sentence of life or death. He desired to speak with some few of us; whereupon six of us only stayed, and the rest left the room. He said, “I am by office governor of this House of Strangers, and by vocation I am a Christian priest and, therefore, am come to you to offer you my service, both as strangers and chiefly as Christians. Some things I may tell you, which I think you will not be unwilling to hear. The state has given you license to stay on land for the space of six weeks. And let it not trouble you if your occasions ask further time, for the law in this point is not precise and I do not doubt but myself shall be able to obtain for you such further time as may be convenient. Ye shall also understand that the Strangers’ House is at this time rich, for it has laid up revenue these thirty-seven years, for so long it is since any stranger arrived in this part. And, therefore, take ye no care, the state will defray you all the time you stay, neither shall you stay one day the less for that. As for any merchandise ye have brought, ye shall be well used, and have your return either in merchandise or in gold and silver, for to us it is all one. And if you have any other request to make, hide it not. For ye shall find we will not make your countenance to fall by the answer ye shall receive. Only this I must tell you, that none of you must go above a karan” (this is with them a mile and a half) “from the walls of the city, without especial leave.”

We answered, after we had looked awhile at each other, admiring this gracious and parent-like usage, that we could not tell what to say, for we wanted words to express our thanks; and his noble free offers left us nothing to ask. It seemed to us that we have before us a picture of our salvation in heaven, for we that were awhile since in the jaws of death, were now brought into a place where we found nothing but consolations. For the commandment laid upon us, we would not fail to obey it, though it was impossible but our hearts should be inflamed to tread further upon this happy and holy ground. We added that our tongues should first cleave to the roofs of our mouths ere we should forget either his reverent person or this whole nation in our prayers. We also most humbly sought him to accept us as his true servants, by as just a right as ever men on earth were bound, laying and presenting both our persons and all we had at his feet. He said that he was a priest, and looked for a priest’s reward, which was our brotherly love, and the good of our souls and bodies. So he went from us, not without tears of tenderness in his eyes, and left us also confused with joy and kindness, saying among ourselves that we were come into a land of angels, which did appear to us daily and provide us with comforts, which we thought not of, much less expected.

The next day, about ten of the clock, the governor came to us again, and after salutations said familiarly that he was come to visit us, and called for a chair, and sat down. And we, being some ten of us (the rest were of the meaner sort, or else gone abroad) sat down with him. And when we were set, he began thus. “We of this island of Bensalem” (for so they call it in their language) “have this, that by means of our solitary situation, and of the laws of secrecy which we have for our travelers, and our rare admission of strangers, we know well most part of the habitable world, and are ourselves unknown. Therefore, because he that knows least is fittest to ask questions, it is more reasonable, for the entertainment of this time, that you ask me questions, than that I ask you.” We answered that we humbly thanked him that he would give us leave so to do, and that we conceived by the taste we had already, that there was no worldly thing on earth more worthy to be known than the state of that happy land. But above all, we said, since we were met from the several ends of the world, and hoped assuredly that we should meet one day in the kingdom of heaven (for that we were both parts Christian) we desired to know (in respect that land was so remote and so divided by vast and unknown seas, from the land where our Savior walked on earth) who was the apostle of that nation and how it was converted to the Christian faith? It appeared in his face that he took great contentment in this our question. He said, “Ye knit my heart to you by asking this question in the first place, for it sheweth that you first seek the kingdom of heaven; and I shall gladly and briefly satisfy your demand.

“About twenty years after the ascension of our Savior, it came to pass that there was seen by the people of Renfusa (a city upon the eastern coast of our island) at night (the night was cloudy and calm), some mile into the sea, a great pillar of light, not sharp, but in the form of a column or cylinder, rising from the sea a great way towards heaven and on the top of it was seen a large cross of light, more bright and resplendent than the body of the pillar. Upon so strange a spectacle, the people of the city gathered together on the sands to wonder; and so after put themselves into a number of small boats, to go nearer to this marvelous sight. But when the boats were come within about sixty yards of the pillar, they found themselves all bound, and could go no further, yet so as they might move about, but might not approach nearer. So the boats stood all as in a theater, beholding this light as a heavenly sign. It so fell out that there was in one of the boats one of the wise men of the society of Solomon’s House, which house or college (my good brethren) is the very eye of this kingdom, who having awhile attentively and devoutly viewed and contemplated this pillar and cross, fell down upon his face and then raised himself upon his knees, and lifting up his hands to heaven, made his prayers in this manner:

“‘Lord God of heaven and earth, thou hast vouchsafed of thy grace to those of our order, to know thy works of creation, and the secrets of them; and to discern (as far as appertaineth to the generations of men) between divine miracles, works of nature, works of art, and impostures and illusions of all sorts. I do here acknowledge and testify before this people that the thing which we now see before our eyes is thy Finger and a true Miracle; and inasmuch as we learn in our books that thou never workest miracles but to a divine and excellent end (for the laws of nature are thine own laws, and thou exceedest them not but upon great cause), we most humbly beseech thee to prosper this great sign, and to give us the interpretation and use of it in mercy; which thou dost in some part secretly promise by sending it unto us.’

“When he had made his prayer, he presently found the boat he was in movable and unbound, whereas all the rest remained still fast, and taking that for an assurance of permission to approach, he caused the boat to be softly and with silence rowed towards the pillar. But as he came near it, the pillar and cross of light broke up and cast itself abroad, as it were, into a firmament of many stars, which also vanished soon after, and there was nothing left to be seen but a small ark or chest of cedar, dry and not wet at all with water, though it swam. And in the fore-end of it, which was towards him, grew a small branch of palm. And when the wise man had taken it with all reverence into his boat, it opened of itself, and there was found in it a Book and a Letter, both written in fine parchment, and wrapped in ribbons of linen. The Book contained all the canonical books of the Old and New Testament, according as you have them (for we know well what your Churches have) and the Apocalypse itself, and some other books of the New Testament which were not at that time written, were nevertheless in the book. And for the Letter it was in these words:

“‘I, Bartholomew, a servant of the Highest, and Apostle of Jesus Christ, was warned by an angel that appeared to me in a vision of glory that I should commit this ark to the floods of the sea. Therefore, I do testify and declare unto that people where God shall ordain this ark to come to land, that in the same day is come unto them salvation and peace and good will from the Father and from the Lord Jesus.’

“There was also in both these writings, the Book as well as the Letter, wrought a great miracle, conforming to that of the Apostles in the original Gift of Tongues. For there being at that time in this land Hebrews, Persians, and Indians, besides the natives, every one read the Book and Letter as if they had been written in his own language. And thus was this land saved from infidelity (as the remnant of the old world was from water) by an ark, through the apostolic and miraculous evangelism of St. Bartholomew.” And here he paused, and a messenger came and called him from us. So this was all that passed in that conference.

The next day, the same governor came again to us immediately after dinner, and excused himself saying that the day before he was called from us somewhat abruptly, but now he would make us amends and spend time with us, if we held his company and conference agreeable. We answered that we held it so agreeable and pleasing to us, as we forgot both dangers past and fears to come, for the time we heard him speak, and that we thought an hour spent with him was worth years of our former life. He bowed himself a little to us, and after we were set again, he said: “Well, the questions are on your part.”

One of our number said, after a little pause, that there was a matter we were no less desirous to know, than fearful to ask, lest we might presume too far. But encouraged by his rare humanity towards us (that could scarce think ourselves strangers, being his vowed and professed servants), we would take the hardiness to ask it: humbly beseeching him, if he thought it not fit to be answered, that he would pardon it, though he rejected it. We said that we well observed those his words, which he formerly spoke, that this happy island where we now stood was known to few, and yet knew most of the nations of the world, which we found to be true, considering they had the languages of Europe and knew much of our state and business, and yet we in Europe (notwithstanding all the remote discoveries and navigations of this last age) never heard any of the least inkling or glimpse of this island. This we found wonderfully strange, for that all nations have interknowledge one of another either by voyage into foreign parts, or by strangers that come to them. And though the traveler into a foreign country does commonly know more by the eye, than he that stays at home can by relation of the traveler, yet both ways suffice to make a mutual knowledge in some degree on both parts. But for this island, we never heard tell of any ship of theirs that had been seen to arrive upon any shore of Europe; no, nor of either the East or West Indies; nor yet of any ship of any other part of the world that had made return from them. And yet the marvel rested not in this. For the situation of it (as his lordship said) in the secret conclave of such a vast sea might cause it. But then that they should have knowledge of the languages, books, affairs, of those that lie such a distance from them, it was a thing we could not tell what to make of; for that it seemed to us a condition and propriety of divine powers and beings to be hidden and unseen to others and yet to have others open and as in a light to them.

At this speech the governor gave a gracious smile and said that we did well to ask pardon for this question, for it seemed to indicate that we thought this land a land of magicians, that sent forth spirits of the air into all parts to bring them news and intelligence of other countries. It was answered by us all, in all possible humbleness, but yet with a countenance showing knowledge that we knew that he spoke it but merrily, that we were apt enough to think there was somewhat supernatural in this island, but yet rather as angelical than magical. But to let his lordship know truly what it was that made us tender and doubtful to ask this question, it was not any such conceit, but because we remembered he had given a hint in his former speech that this land had laws of secrecy touching strangers. To this he said, “You remember it aright; and, therefore, in what I shall say to you I must reserve some particulars, which it is not lawful for me to reveal, but there will be enough left to give you satisfaction.

“You shall understand (that which perhaps you will scarce think credible) that about three thousand years ago, or somewhat more, the navigation of the world (especially for remote voyages) was greater than at this day. Do not think with yourselves that I know not how much it is increased with you within these six-score years. I know it well. And yet I say greater then than now, whether it was, that the example of the ark, that saved the remnant of men from the universal deluge, gave men confidence to adventure upon the waters, or what it was, but such is the truth. The Phoenicians, and especially the Tyrians, had great fleets. So had the Carthaginians, which is yet further west. Toward the east, the shipping of Egypt and of Palestina was likewise great. China also, and the great Atlantis (that you call America), which have now but junks and canoes, abounded then in tall ships. This island (as appears by faithful registers of those times) had then fifteen hundred strong ships of great content. Of all this there is with you sparing memory, or none, but we have large knowledge thereof.

“At that time, this land was known and frequented by the ships and vessels of all the nations before named. And (as it came to pass) many times men of other countries, that were not sailors, came with them, as Persians, Chaldeans, Arabians, so as almost all nations of might and fame resorted hither, of whom we have some families and little tribes with us to this day. And for our own ships, they made sundry voyages, as well to your Straits, which you call the Pillars of Hercules, as to other parts in the Atlantic and Mediterranean Seas, as to Paguin (which is the same with Cambaline [Beijing]) and Quinzy, upon the Oriental Seas, as far as to the borders of the East Tartar.

“At the same time, and an age after or more, the inhabitants of the great Atlantis did flourish. For though the narration and description which is made by a great man with you [Plato], that the descendants of Neptune planted there, and of the magnificent temple, palace, city, and hill, and the manifold streams of goodly navigable rivers (which, as so many chains, environed the same site and temple), and the several degrees of ascent whereby men did climb up to the same, as if it had been a ladder to heaven, be all poetical and fabulous, yet so much is true, that the said country of Atlantis, as well that of Peru, then called Coya, as that of Mexico, then named Tyrambel, were mighty and proud kingdoms in arms, shipping, and riches. So mighty, as at one time (or at least within the space of ten years) they both made two great expeditions. They of Tyrambel through the Atlantic to the Mediterranean Sea; and they of Coya through the South Sea upon this our island. And for the former of these, which was into Europe, the same author among you (as it seems) had some relation from the Egyptian priest whom he cites. For assuredly such a thing there was. But whether it were the ancient Athenians that had the glory of the repulse and resistance of those forces, I can say nothing. But certain it is, there never came back either ship or man from that voyage.

“Neither would the voyage of Coya to our island have had better fortune, if they had not met with enemies of greater clemency. For the king of this island (by name Altabin), a wise man and a great warrior, knowing well both his own strength and that of his enemies, handled the matter so as he cut off their land forces from their ships and entrapped both their navy and their camp with a greater power than theirs both by sea and land; and compelled them to surrender themselves without striking stroke. And after they were at his mercy, contenting himself only with their oath that they should no more bear arms against him, dismissed them all in safety. But the Divine Revenge overtook not long after those proud enterprises. For within less than the space of one hundred years, the great Atlantis was utterly lost and destroyed, not by a great earthquake as your man says (for that whole tract is little subject to earthquakes), but by a particular deluge or inundation; those countries having, at this day, far greater rivers and far higher mountains to pour down waters, than any part of the old world. But it is true that the same inundation was not deep, not past forty foot in most places from the ground, so that although it destroyed man and beast generally, yet some few wild inhabitants of the wood escaped. Birds also were saved by flying to the high trees and woods. As for men, although they had buildings in many places higher than the depth of the water, yet that inundation, though it were shallow, had a long continuance, whereby they of the vale that were not drowned, perished for want of food and other things necessary.

“So marvel you not at the thin population of America, nor at the rudeness and ignorance of the people, for you must account your inhabitants of America as a young people, younger a thousand years at least than the rest of the world, for that there was so much time between the universal flood and their particular inundation. For the poor remnant of human seed that remained in their mountains peopled the country again slowly, by little and little. And being simple and savage people (not like Noah and his sons, which was the chief family of the earth), they were not able to leave letters, arts, civility, to their posterity. And having likewise in their mountainous habitations been used (in respect of the extreme cold of those regions) to clothe themselves with the skins of tigers, bears, and great hairy goats that they have in those parts, when, after they came down into the valley and found the intolerable heats which are there and knew no means of lighter apparel, they were forced to begin the custom of going naked, which continues to this day. Only they take great pride and delight in the feathers of birds, and this also they took from their ancestors of the mountains, who were invited to it by the infinite flights of birds that came up to the high grounds, while the waters stood below. So you see, by this main accident of time, we lost our traffic with the Americans, with whom of all others, in regard they lay nearest to us, we had most commerce.

“As for the other parts of the world, it is most manifest that in the ages following (whether it were in respect of wars, or by a natural revolution of time), navigation did everywhere greatly decay, and especially far voyages (the rather by the use of galleys and such vessels as could hardly brook the ocean) were altogether left and omitted. So then, that part of communication which could come from other nations sailing to us has long since ceased, except it were by some rare accident as this of yours. But now of the cessation of that other part of intercourse, which might be by our sailing to other nations, I must yield you some other cause. For I cannot say (if I shall say truly), but our shipping, for number, strength, mariners, pilots, and all things that appertain to navigation, is as great as ever. And, therefore, why we should sit at home, I shall now give you an account, and it will draw nearer to give you satisfaction to your principal question.

“There reigned in this island, about nineteen hundred years ago, a King, whose memory of all others we most adore, not superstitiously but as a divine instrument, though a mortal man. His name was Solamona, and we esteem him as the lawgiver of our nation. This king had a large heart, inscrutable for good, and was wholly bent to make his kingdom and people happy. He, therefore, taking into consideration how sufficient and substantive this land was to maintain itself without any aid at all of the foreigner; being five thousand six hundred miles in circuit, and of rare fertility of soil in the greatest part thereof; and finding also the shipping of this country might be plentifully set on work, both by fishing and by transportation from port to port, and likewise by sailing unto some small islands that are not far from us and are under the crown and laws of this state; and recalling into his memory the happy and flourishing estate wherein this land then was, so as it might be a thousand ways altered to the worse, but scarce any one way to the better, thought nothing wanted to his noble and heroic intentions, but only (as far as human foresight might reach) to give perpetuity to that which was in his time so happily established.

“Therefore, among his other fundamental laws of this kingdom, he did ordain the laws and prohibitions which we have touching entrance of strangers, which at that time (though it was after the calamity of America) was frequent, fearing novelties and commixture of manners. It is true, the like law against the admission of strangers without license is an ancient law in the kingdom of China and yet continued in use. But there it is a poor thing and has made them a curious, ignorant, fearful, foolish nation. But our lawgiver made his law of another temper. For first, he has preserved all points of humanity, in taking order and making provision for the relief of strangers distressed; whereof you have tasted.” At which speech (as reason was) we all rose up and bowed ourselves.

He went on. “That king also, still desiring to join humanity and policy together; and thinking it against humanity to detain strangers here against their wills, and against policy that they should return and discover their knowledge of this state, he took this course. He did ordain that of the strangers that should be permitted to land as many (at all times) might depart as would, but as many as would stay should have very good conditions and means to live from the state. Wherein he saw so far, that now in so many ages since the prohibition, we have memory not of one ship that ever returned, and but of thirteen persons only, at several times, that chose to return in our ships. What those few that returned may have reported abroad I know not. But you must think, whatsoever they have said, could be taken but for a dream. Now our traveling from hence into parts abroad, our Lawgiver thought fit altogether to restrain it. So is it not in China. For the Chinese sail where they will or can, which shows that their law of keeping out strangers is a law of pusillanimity and fear. But this restraint of ours has one only exception, which is admirable, preserving the good that comes by communicating with strangers, and avoiding the hurt, and I will now open it to you. And here I shall seem a little to digress, but you will by and by find it pertinent.

“You shall understand (my dear friends) that among the excellent acts of that king, one above all has preeminence. It was the erection and institution of an Order or Society which we call Solomon’s House; the noblest foundation (as we think) that ever was upon the earth, and the lantern of this kingdom. It is dedicated to the study of the Works and Creatures of God. Some think it bears the founder’s name a little corrupted, as if it should be Solamona’s House. But the records write it as it is spoken. So as I take it to be denominate of the King of the Hebrews, who is famous with you, and no stranger to us. For we have some parts of his works which with you are lost, namely, that Natural History which he wrote, of all plants, from the cedar of Lebanon to the moss that grows out of the wall, and of all things that have life and motion. This makes me think that our king, finding himself similar in many things with that king of the Hebrews (who lived many years before him), honored him with the title of this foundation. And I am the rather induced to be of this opinion, for that I find in ancient records this Order or Society is sometimes called Solomon’s House and sometimes the College of the Six Days Works; whereby I am satisfied that our excellent king had learned from the Hebrews that God had created the world and all that therein is within six days and, therefore, he instituting that House for the finding out of the true nature of all things (whereby God might have the more glory in the workmanship of them, and man the more fruit in the use of them), did give it also the second name. But now to come to our present purpose.

“When the king had forbidden to all his people navigation into any part that was not under his crown, he made nevertheless this ordinance: That every twelve years there should be set forth out of this kingdom two ships, appointed to several voyages. That in either of these ships there should be a mission of three of the Fellows or Brethren of Solomon’s House, whose errand was only to give us knowledge of the affairs and state of those countries to which they were designed, and especially of the sciences, arts, manufactures, and inventions of all the world, and withal to bring unto us books, instruments, and patterns in every kind. That the ships, after they had landed the brethren, should return, and that the brethren should stay abroad till the new mission. These ships are not otherwise loaded, than with store of provisions and good quantity of treasure to remain with the brethren, for buying of such things and rewarding of such persons as they should think fit. Now for me to tell you how the vulgar sort of mariners are contained from being discovered at land, and how they that must be put on shore for any time, color themselves under the names of other nations, and to what places these voyages have been designed, and what places of rendezvous are appointed for new missions, and the like circumstances of the practice, I may not do it, neither is it much to your desire.

“But thus you see we maintain a trade, not for gold, silver, or jewels, nor for silks, nor for spices, nor any other commodity of matter, but only for God’s first creature, which was Light: to have light (I say) of the growth of all parts of the world.” And when he had said this, he was silent and so were we all. For indeed we were all astonished to hear so strange things so probably told. And he, perceiving that we were willing to say something but had it not ready, in great courtesy took us off, and descended to ask us questions of our voyage and fortunes, and in the end concluded that we might do well to think with ourselves what time of stay we would demand of the state, and bade us not to scant ourselves, for he would procure such time as we desired. Whereupon we all rose up, and presented ourselves to kiss the skirt of his tippet, but he would not suffer us and so took his leave. But when it came once among our people that the state used to offer conditions to strangers that would stay, we had work enough to get any of our men to look to our ship, and to keep them from going presently to the governor to crave conditions. But with much ado we refrained them, till we might agree what course to take.

We took ourselves now for free men, seeing there was no danger of our utter perdition, and lived most joyfully, going abroad and seeing what was to be seen in the city and places adjacent within our tether, and obtaining acquaintance with many of the city, not of the meanest quality, at whose hands we found such humanity, and such a freedom and desire to take strangers as it were to their bosom, as was enough to make us forget all that was dear to us in our own countries. And continually we met with many things right worthy of observation and relation, as indeed, if there be a mirror in the world worthy to hold men’s eyes, it is that country.

One day there were two of our company bidden to a Feast of the Family, as they call it. A most natural, pious and reverend custom it is, showing that nation to be compounded of all goodness. This is the manner of it. It is granted to any man that shall live to see thirty persons descended of his body alive together, and all above three years old, to make this feast, which is done at the cost of the state. The Father of the Family, whom they call the Tirsan, two days before the feast takes to him three of such friends as he likes to choose, and is assisted also by the governor of the city or place where the feast is celebrated, and all the persons of the family, of both sexes, are summoned to attend him. These two days the Tirsan sits in consultation concerning the good estate of the family. There, if there be any discord or suits between any of the family, they are compounded and appeased. There, if any of the family be distressed or decayed, order is taken for their relief and competent means to live. There, if any be subject to vice, or take ill courses, they are reproved and censured. So likewise direction is given touching marriages, and the courses of life which any of them should take, with diverse other orders and advice. The governor assists to the end to put in execution by his public authority the decrees and orders of the Tirsan, if they should be disobeyed, though that is seldom needed, such reverence and obedience they give to the order of nature. The Tirsan does also then choose one man from among his sons to live in house with him, who is called ever after the Son of the Vine. The reason will hereafter appear.

On the feast day, the Father or Tirsan comes forth after divine service into a large room where the feast is celebrated, which room has a dais at the upper end. Against the wall, in the middle of the dais, is a chair placed for him with a table and carpet before it. Over the chair is a canopy made round or oval, of ivy somewhat whiter than ours, like the leaf of a silver asp, but more shining, for it is green all winter. The canopy is curiously wrought with silver and silk of diverse colors, braiding or binding in the ivy, and is always the work of some of the daughters of the family, and veiled over at the top with a fine net of silk and silver. But the substance of it is true ivy, whereof, after it is taken down, the friends of the family are desirous to have some leaf or sprig to keep. The Tirsan comes forth with all his generation or lineage, the males before him, and the females following him. And if there be a mother from whose body the whole lineage is descended, there is a traverse placed in a loft above on the right hand of the chair, with a private door, and a carved window of glass, leaded with gold and blue, where she sits but is not seen. When the Tirsan is come forth, he sits down in the chair; and all the lineage place themselves against the wall, both at his back and upon the return of the dais, in order of their years without difference of sex, and stand upon their feet. When he is set, the room being always full of company, but well kept and without disorder, after some pause there comes in from the lower end of the room a Taratan (which is as much as a herald) and on either side of him two young lads, whereof one carries a scroll of their shining yellow parchment, and the other a cluster of grapes of gold, with a long foot or stalk. The herald and children are clothed with mantles of sea-water green satin, but the herald’s mantle is streamed with gold and has a train. Then the herald with three curtsies, or rather inclinations, comes up as far as the dais, and there first takes into his hand the scroll.

This scroll is the King’s Charter, containing gift of revenue, and many privileges, exemptions, and points of honor, granted to the Father of the Family, and is ever styled and directed “To such a one our well-beloved friend and creditor,” which is a title proper only in this case. For they say the king is debtor to no man, but for propagation of his subjects. The seal set to the king’s charter is the king’s image, embossed or molded in gold; and though such charters be expedited in course, and as a right, yet they are varied by discretion, according to the number and dignity of the family. This charter the herald reads aloud; and while it is read, the father or Tirsan stands up, supported by two of his sons, such as he chooses. Then the herald mounts the dais and delivers the charter into his hand, and with that there is an acclamation by all that are present in their language, which is thus: “Happy are the people of Bensalem.” Then the herald takes into his hand from the other child the cluster of grapes, which is of gold, both the stalk and the grapes. But the grapes are daintily enameled, and if the males of the family be the greater number, the grapes are enameled purple, with a little sun set on the top; if the females, then they are enameled into a greenish yellow, with a crescent on the top. The grapes are in number as many as there are descendants of the family. This golden cluster the herald delivers also to the Tirsan, who presently delivers it over to that son that he had formerly chosen to be in house with him, who bears it before his father as a sign of honor when he goes in public, ever after, and is thereupon called the Son of the Vine.

After this ceremony ends, the father or Tirsan retires. And after some time he comes forth again to dinner, where he sits alone under the canopy, as before, and none of his descendants sit with him, of what degree or dignity soever, except he happens to be of Solomon’s House. He is served only by his own children, such as are male, who perform unto him all service of the table upon the knee and the women only stand about him, leaning against the wall. The room below the dais has tables on the sides for the guests that are bidden, who are served with great and comely order, and towards the end of dinner (which in the greatest feasts with them lasts never above an hour and a half) there is a hymn sung, varied according to the invention of him that composes it (for they have excellent poesy), but the subject of it is (always) the praises of Adam and Noah and Abraham; whereof the former two peopled the world, and the last was the Father of the Faithful; concluding ever with a thanksgiving for the nativity of our Savior, in whose birth the births of all are blessed.

Dinner being done, the Tirsan retires again, and having withdrawn himself alone into a place where he makes some private prayers, he comes forth the third time to give the blessing, with all his descendants who stand about him as at the first. Then he calls them forth one by one, by name, as he pleases, though seldom the order of age is inverted. The person that is called (the table being before removed) kneels down before the chair, and the father lays his hand upon his head or her head, and gives the blessing in these words: “Son of Bensalem (or Daughter of Bensalem), thy father saith it, the man by whom thou hast breath and life speaketh the word; the blessing of the everlasting Father, the Prince of Peace, and the Holy Dove be upon thee, and make the days of thy pilgrimage good and many.” This he says to every one of them; and that done, if there be any of his sons of eminent merit and virtue (so they be not above two), he calls for them again and says, laying his arm over their shoulders, they standing: “Sons, it is well ye are born, give God the praise, and persevere to the end.” And withal delivers to either of them a jewel, made in the figure of an ear of wheat, which they ever after wear in front of their turban or hat. This done, they fall to music and dances, and other recreations, after their manner, for the rest of the day. This is the full order of that feast.

By that time six or seven days were spent, and I was fallen into acquaintance with a merchant of that city, whose name was Joabin. He was a Jew and circumcised, for they have some few families of Jews yet remaining among them, whom they leave to their own religion. Which they may the better do, because they are of a far differing disposition from the Jews in other parts who hate the name of Christ and have a secret inbred rancor against the people among whom they live. These (contrariwise) give unto our Savior many high attributes, and love the nation of Bensalem extremely. Surely this man of whom I speak would ever acknowledge that Christ was born of a Virgin, and that he was more than a man. And he would tell how God made him ruler of the Seraphims who guard his throne. And they call him also the Milken Way, and the Elijah of the Messiah; and many other high names, which though they be inferior to his divine Majesty, yet they are far from the language of other Jews. And for the country of Bensalem, this man would make no end of commending it, being desirous, by tradition among the Jews there, to have it believed that the people thereof were of the generations of Abraham, by another son, whom they call Nachoran, and that Moses by a secret cabal ordained the laws of Bensalem which they now use. And that when the Messiah should come, and sit in his throne at Jerusalem, the king of Bensalem should sit at his feet, whereas other kings should keep a great distance.

But yet setting aside these Jewish dreams, the man was a wise man, and learned, and of great policy, and excellently seen in the laws and customs of that nation. Among other discourses, one day I told him I was much affected with the relation I had from some of the company, of their custom in holding the Feast of the Family, for I had never heard of a solemnity wherein nature did so much preside. And because propagation of families proceeds from nuptial copulation, I desired to know of him what laws and customs they had concerning marriage, and whether they kept marriage well, and whether they were tied to one wife? For that where population is so much desired, and such as with them it seemed to be, there is commonly permission of plurality of wives.

To this he said: “You have reason to commend that excellent institution of the Feast of the Family. And indeed we have experience that those families that are partakers of the blessing of that feast do flourish and prosper ever after in an extraordinary manner. But hear me now, and I will tell you what I know. You shall understand that there is not under the heavens so chaste a nation as this of Bensalem, nor so free from all pollution or foulness. It is the virgin of the world. I remember I have read in one of your European books, of a holy hermit among you that desired to see the Spirit of Fornication, and there appeared to him a little foul ugly Aethiop. But if he had desired to see the Spirit of Chastity of Bensalem, it would have appeared to him in the likeness of a fair beautiful Cherub. For there is nothing among mortal men more fair and admirable than the chaste minds of this people.

“Know, therefore, that with them there are no brothels, no dissolute houses, no courtesans or prostitutes, nor any thing of that kind. Nay they wonder (with detestation) at you in Europe who permit such things. They say you have put marriage out of office. For marriage is ordained a remedy for unlawful sexual desire, and natural sexual desire seems as a spur to marriage, but when men have at hand a remedy more agreeable to their corrupt will, marriage is almost expelled. And, therefore, there are with you many men that marry not, but choose rather a libertine and impure single life, than to be yoked in marriage. And many that do marry, marry late, when the prime and strength of their years is past. And when they do marry, what is marriage to them but a very business transaction, wherein is sought alliance, or portion of inheritance, or reputation, with some desire (almost indifferent) of children, and not the faithful nuptial union of man and wife, that was first instituted. Neither is it possible that those that have cast away so basely so much of their strength, should greatly esteem children (being the same matter), as chaste men do. So likewise during marriage, is the case much amended, as it ought to be if those things were tolerated only for necessity? No, but they remain still a very affront to marriage. The haunting of those dissolute places, or resort to courtesans are no more punished in married men than in bachelors. And the depraved custom of infidelities, and the delight in meretricious embracements (where sin is turned into art), makes marriage a dull thing, and a kind of imposition or tax.

“They hear you defend these things as done to avoid greater evils, as adulteries, deflowering of virgins, unnatural lust, and the like. But they say this is a preposterous wisdom, and they call it ‘Lot’s offer,’ who, to save his guests from abusing, offered his daughters. Nay they say further that there is little gained in this, for that the same vices and appetites do still remain and abound, unlawful lust being like a furnace, that if you stop the flames altogether, it will quench, but if you give it any vent, it will rage. As for masculine love, they have no touch of it, and yet there are not so faithful and inviolate friendships in the world as are there; and to speak generally (as I said before), I have not read of any such chastity in any people as in theirs. And their usual saying is that ‘whosoever is unchaste cannot reverence himself,’ and they say, ‘the reverence of a man’s self is, next to religion, the chiefest bridle of all vices.’”

And when he had said this, the good Jew paused a little, whereupon I, far more willing to hear him speak on than to speak myself, yet thinking it decent that upon his pause of speech I should not be altogether silent, said only this, that I would say to him, as the widow of Sarepta said to Elias, that he was come to bring to memory our sins and that I confess the righteousness of Bensalem was greater than the righteousness of Europe. At which speech he bowed his head and went on in this manner: “They have also many wise and excellent laws touching marriage. They allow no polygamy. They have ordained that none do intermarry or contract, until a month be passed from their first interview. Marriage without consent of parents they do not make void, but they penalize it in the inheritors, for the children of such marriages are not admitted to inherit above a third part of their parents’ inheritance. I have read in a book of one of your men [Thomas More], of a Feigned Commonwealth, where the married couple are permitted, before they contract, to see one another naked. This they dislike, for they think it a scorn to give a refusal after so familiar knowledge, but because of many hidden defects in men and women’s bodies, they have a more civil way, for they have near every town a couple of pools (which they call Adam and Eve’s pools), where it is permitted to one of the friends of the man and another of the friends of the woman, to see them bathe naked.”

And as we were thus in conference, there came one that seemed to be a messenger, in a rich tunic, that spoke with the Jew, whereupon he turned to me and said: “You will pardon me, for I am commanded away in haste.” The next morning he came to me again, joyful as it seemed, and said: “There is word come to the governor of the city that one of the Fathers of Solomon’s House will be here in seven days. We have seen none of them this dozen years. His coming is in state, but the cause of his coming is secret. I will provide you and your fellows with a good standing to see his entry.” I thanked him, and told him that I was most glad of the news.

The day being come, he made his entry. He was a man of middle stature and age, comely of person, and had an aspect as if he pitied men. He was clothed in a robe of fine black cloth, with wide sleeves and a cape. His under garment was of excellent white linen down to the foot, girt with a girdle of the same, and a tippet of the same about his neck. He had gloves that were curious, and set with stone, and shoes of peach-colored velvet. His neck was bare to the shoulders. His hat was like a helmet, or Spanish Montera, and his locks curled below it decently; they were of the color brown. His beard was cut round, and of the same color with his hair, somewhat lighter. He was carried in a rich chariot without wheels, litterwise, with two horses at either end, richly trapped in blue velvet embroidered, and two footmen on each side in the like attire. The chariot was all of cedar, gilt, and adorned with crystal, save that the front end had panels of sapphires set in borders of gold, and the back end had panels of emeralds of the Peru color. There was also a sun of gold, radiant upon the top in the middle, and on the top before, a small cherub of gold with wings displayed. The chariot was covered with cloth of gold tissued upon blue.

He had before him fifty attendants, young men all, in white satin loose coats to the mid-leg and stockings of white silk, and shoes of blue velvet, and hats of blue velvet with fine plumes of diverse colors set round like hat bands. Next before the chariot went two men, bare-headed, in linen garments down to the foot, girt, and shoes of blue velvet, who carried the one a crosier, the other a pastoral staff like a sheep hook, neither of them of metal, but the crosier of balm wood, the pastoral staff of cedar. Horsemen he had none, neither before nor behind his chariot, as it seems to avoid all tumult and trouble. Behind his chariot went all the officers and principals of the Companies of the City. He sat alone, upon cushions of a kind of excellent plush blue, and under his foot curious carpets of silk of diverse colors, like the Persian but far finer. He held up his bare hand as he went, as blessing the people, but in silence. The street was wonderfully well kept, so that there was never any army had their men stand in better battle array than the people stood. The windows likewise were not crowded, but every one stood in them as if they had been placed.

When the spectacle was past, the Jew said to me: “I shall not be able to attend you as I would like to because of some duty the city has given me for the entertaining of this great person.” Three days later, the Jew came to me again and said: “You are happy men, for the Father of Solomon’s House takes knowledge of your being here, and commanded me to tell you that he will admit all your company to his presence, and have private conference with one of you that you shall choose; and for this has appointed the day after tomorrow. And because he means to give you his blessing, he has appointed it in the forenoon.”

We came at our day and hour, and I was chosen by my fellows for the private interview. We found him in a fair chamber, with rich hangings and carpet under foot. He sat upon a low throne richly adorned and a rich cloth of state over his head of blue satin embroidered. He was alone, save that he had two pages of honor, on either hand one, finely attired in white. His under garments were the like that we saw him wear in the chariot, but instead of his gown, he had on him a mantle with a cape, of the same fine black, fastened about him. When we came in, as we were taught, we bowed low at our first entrance and when we were come near his chair, he stood up, holding forth his hand ungloved, and in posture of blessing, and we every one of us stooped down, and kissed the hem of his tippet. That done, the rest departed, and I remained. Then he ordered the pages from the room, and caused me to sit down beside him, and spoke to me thus in the Spanish tongue:

“God bless thee, my son. I will give thee the greatest jewel I have. For I will impart unto thee, for the love of God and men, a relation of the true state of Solomon’s House. Son, to make you know the true state of Solomon’s House, I will keep this order. First, I will set forth unto you the End of our Foundation. Secondly, the Preparations and Instruments we have for our works. Thirdly, the several Employments and Functions whereto our fellows are assigned. And fourthly, the Ordinances and Rites which we observe.

“The End of our Foundation is the knowledge of Causes and secret motions of things; and the enlarging of the bounds of Human Empire, to the effecting of all things possible.

“The Preparations and Instruments are these. We have large and deep caves of several depths. The deepest are sunk six hundred fathom, and some of them are dug and made under great hills and mountains so that if you reckon together the depth of the hill and the depth of the cave, they are (some of them) above three miles deep. For we find that the depth of the hill, and the depth of a cave from the flat, is the same thing; both remote alike from the sun and heaven’s beams, and from the open air. These caves we call the Lower Region. And we use them for all coagulations, indurations, refrigerations, and conservations of bodies. We use them likewise for the imitation of natural mines and the producing also of new artificial metals, by compositions and material which we prepare and lay there for many years. We use them also sometimes (which may seem strange) for curing of some diseases, and for prolongation of life in some hermits that choose to live there, well supplied with all things necessary, who indeed live very long, and from whom we learn many things.

“We have burials in several earths, where we put diverse cements, as the Chinese do their porcelain. But we have them in greater variety of composts and soils for the making of the earth fruitful.

“We have high towers, the highest about half a mile in height, and some of them likewise set upon high mountains, so that the vantage of the hill with the tower is in the highest of them three miles at least. And these places we call the Upper Region, accounting the air between the high places and the low as a Middle Region. We use these towers, according to their several heights and situations, for solar radiation, refrigeration, conservation, and for the view of diverse meteorological phenomena, as winds, rain, snow, hail, and some other fiery meteors also. And upon them in some places are dwellings of hermits, whom we visit sometimes and instruct what to observe.

“We have great lakes both salt and fresh, whereof we have use for the fish and fowl. We use them also for burials of some natural bodies, for we find a difference in things buried in earth or in air below the earth, and things buried in water. We have also pools, of which some do strain fresh water out of salt, and others by art do turn fresh water into salt. We have also some rocks in the midst of the sea, and some bays upon the shore, for some works wherein is required the air and vapor of the sea. We have likewise violent streams and cataracts, which serve us for many motions, and likewise engines for multiplying and enforcing of winds, to set also on going diverse motions.

“We have also a number of artificial wells and fountains, made in imitation of the natural sources and baths, as infused with vitriol, sulfur, steel, brass, lead, niter, and other minerals. And again we have little wells for infusions of many things, where the waters receive the properties quicker and better than in vessels or basins. And among them we have a water which we call Water of Paradise, being, by what we do to it, made very sovereign for health, and prolongation of life.

“We have also great and spacious houses where we imitate and show meteorological phenomena, as snow, hail, rain, some artificial rains of bodies and not of water, thunders, lightnings; also generations of bodies in air, as frogs, flies, and diverse others.

“We have also certain chambers, which we call Chambers of Health, where we qualify the air as we think good and proper for the cure of diverse diseases and preservation of health.

“We have also fair and large baths, of several mixtures, for the cure of diseases, and the restoring of man’s body from dehydration; and others for the confirming of it in strength of sinews, vital parts, and the very juice and substance of the body.

“We have also large and various orchards and gardens, wherein we do not so much consider beauty as variety of ground and soil, proper for diverse trees and herbs, and some very spacious, where trees and berries are set whereof we make diverse kinds of drinks, besides the vineyards. In these we practice likewise all experiments of grafting and inoculating, as well of wild trees as fruit trees, which produce many effects. And we make (by art) in the same orchards and gardens, trees and flowers to come earlier or later than their seasons; and to come up and bear more speedily than by their natural course. We make them also (by art) much larger than their nature, and their fruit greater and sweeter and of differing taste, smell, color, and figure, from their nature. And many of them we so order, as they become of medicinal use.

“We have also means to make diverse plants rise by mixtures of earths without seeds; and likewise to make diverse new plants, differing from the vulgar, and to make one tree or plant turn into another.

“We have also parks and enclosures of all sorts of beasts and birds, which we use not only for view or rareness, but likewise for dissections and trials, that thereby we may gain knowledge about what may be wrought upon the body of man. Wherein we discover many strange effects, as continuing life in them, though diverse parts, which you account vital, be perished and removed; resuscitating of some that seem dead in appearance; and the like. We try also all poisons and other medicines upon them, as well of surgery as physic. By art likewise we make them greater or taller than their kind is, and contrariwise, dwarf them, and stop their growth. We make them more fruitful and bearing than their kind is, and contrariwise barren and not generative. Also we make them differ in color, shape, activity, many ways. We find means to make commixtures and copulations of different kinds, which have produced many new kinds, and not sterile, as the general opinion is. We make a number of kinds of serpents, worms, flies, fishes, by putrefaction, whereof some are advanced (in effect) to be perfect creatures, like beasts or birds, and have sexes, and do propagate. Neither do we this by chance, but we know beforehand of what matter and commixture what kind of those creatures will arise.

“We have also particular pools, where we make trials upon fishes, as we have said before of beasts and birds.

“We have also places for breeding and generation of those kinds of worms and flies which are of special use, such as are with you your silk worms and bees.

“I will not hold you long with recounting our brew houses, bake houses, and kitchens, where are made diverse drinks, breads, and meats, rare and of special effects. Wines we have of grapes; and drinks of other juice of fruits, of grains, and of roots, and of mixtures with honey, sugar, manna, and fruits dried and decocted. Also of the tears or woundings of trees, and of the pulp of canes. And these drinks are of several ages, some to the age of forty years. We have drinks also brewed with several herbs, and roots, and spices, with several fleshes, and white meats, whereof some of the drinks are such as they are in effect meat and drink both, so that diverse, especially in age, do desire to live on them, with little or no meat or bread. And above all, we strive to have drinks of extreme thin parts, to insinuate into the body, and yet without all biting, sharpness, or fretting, insomuch as some of them put upon the back of your hand will, with a little stay, pass through to the palm, and yet taste mild to the mouth. We have also waters which we ripen in that fashion, as they become nourishing, so that they are indeed excellent drink, and many will use no other. Breads we have of several grains, roots, and kernels, and some of flesh and fish dried, with diverse kinds of leavenings and seasonings, so that some do extremely move appetites. Some do nourish so, that diverse people do live on them alone, without any other meat, who live very long. So for meats, we have some of them so beaten and made tender and mortified, yet without all corrupting, as a weak heat of the stomach will turn them into good chyle, as well as a strong heat would to meat otherwise prepared. We have some meats also and breads and drinks which taken by men enable them to fast long after, and some others that make the very flesh of men’s bodies sensibly more hard and tough, and their strength far greater than otherwise it would be.

“We have dispensaries or shops of medicines. Wherein you may easily think, if we have such variety of plants and living creatures more than you have in Europe (for we know what you have), the simples, drugs, and ingredients of medicines must likewise be in so much the greater variety. We have them likewise of diverse ages, and long fermentations. And for their preparations, we have not only all manner of exquisite distillations and separations, and especially by gentle heats and percolations through diverse strainers, and substances, but also exact forms of composition, whereby they incorporate almost as if they were natural simples.

“We have also diverse mechanical arts, which you have not, and stuffs made by them, as papers, linen, silks, tissues, dainty works of feathers of wonderful luster, excellent dyes, and many others. And shops as well for such things as are not brought into common use among us as for those that are. For you must know that of the things before recited, many of them are grown into use throughout the kingdom, but yet if they did flow from our invention, we have the patterns and originals.

“We have also furnaces of great variety, and that keep great diversity of heats: fierce and quick, strong and constant, soft and mild, blown quiet, dry, moist, and the like. But above all, we have heats in imitations of the sun’s and heavenly bodies’ heats, that pass diverse inequalities and (as it were) orbs, progresses, and returns, whereby we produce admirable effects. Besides, we have heats of dungs, and of bellies and maws of living creatures, and of their bloods and bodies, and of hays and herbs laid up moist, of lime unquenched, and such like. Instruments also which generate heat only by motion. And farther, places for strong radiation, and again, places under the earth, which by nature or art yield heat. These diverse heats we use, as the nature of the operation which we intend requires.

“We have also perspective houses where we make demonstrations of all lights and radiations, and of all colors, and out of things uncolored and transparent we can represent unto you all several colors, not in rainbows as it is in gems and prisms, but of themselves single. We represent also all multiplications of light which we carry to great distance, and make so sharp as to discern small points and lines, also all colorations of light, all delusions and deceits of the sight, in figures, magnitudes, motions, colors, and all demonstrations of shadows. We find also diverse means, yet unknown to you, of producing light originally from diverse bodies. We procure means of seeing objects afar off; as in the heaven and remote places, and represent things near as afar off, and things afar off as near, making imaginary distances. We have also helps for the sight, far above spectacles and glasses in use. We have also glasses and means to see small and minute bodies perfectly and distinctly, as the shapes and colors of small flies and worms, grains and flaws in gems, which cannot otherwise be seen, and observations in urine and blood not otherwise to be seen. We make artificial rainbows, halos, and circles about light. We represent also all manner of reflections, refractions, and multiplications of visual beams of objects.

“We have also precious stones of all kinds, many of them of great beauty, and to you unknown, crystals likewise, and glasses of diverse kinds, and among them some of metals vitrified, and other materials besides those of which you make glass. Also a number of fossils, and imperfect minerals, which you have not. Likewise lodestones of prodigious virtue, and other rare stones, both natural and artificial.

“We have also sound houses, where we practice and demonstrate all sounds, and their generation. We have harmonies which you have not, of quarter sounds, and lesser slides of sounds, and diverse instruments of music, likewise to you unknown, some sweeter than any you have, together with bells and rings that are dainty and sweet. We represent small sounds as great and deep, likewise great sounds as thin and sharp. We make diverse tremblings and warblings of sounds, which in their original are entire. We represent and imitate all articulate sounds and letters, and the voices and notes of beasts and birds. We have certain helps which applied to the ear do further the hearing greatly. We have also diverse strange and artificial echoes, reflecting the voice many times, and as it were tossing it, and some that give back the voice louder than it came, some shriller and some deeper, some rendering the voice differing in the letters or articulate sound from that they receive. We have also means to convey sounds in tubes and pipes, in irregular lines and distances.

“We have also perfume houses, wherewith we join also practices of taste. We multiply smells, which may seem strange. We imitate smells, making all smells to breathe out of other mixtures than those that give them. We make diverse imitations of taste likewise, so that they will deceive any man’s taste. And in this house we contain also a confection house, where we make all sweetmeats, dry and moist, and diverse pleasant wines, milks, broths, and salads, far in greater variety than you have.

“We have also engine houses, where are prepared engines and instruments for all sorts of motions. There we imitate and practice to make swifter motions than any you have, either out of your muskets or any engine that you have. And to make them and multiply them more easily, and with small force, by wheels and other means. And to make them stronger and more violent than yours are, exceeding your greatest cannons and heavy artillery. We represent also ordnance and instruments of war, and engines of all kinds, and likewise new mixtures and compositions of gun powder, and wildfires burning in water and unquenchable. Also fireworks of all variety both for pleasure and use. We imitate also flights of birds. We have some degrees of flying in the air. We have ships and boats for going under water and brooking of seas, also swimming girdles and supporters. We have diverse curious clocks, and other like motions of oscillation, and some perpetual motions. We imitate also motions of living creatures, by images of men, beasts, birds, fishes, and serpents. We have also a great number of other various motions, strange for equality, fineness, and subtlety.

“We have also a mathematical house, where are represented all instruments, as well of geometry as astronomy, exquisitely made.

“We have also houses of deceits of the senses; where we represent all manner of feats of juggling, false apparitions, impostures, and illusions, and their fallacies. And surely you will easily believe that we that have so many things truly natural which induce admiration, could in a world of particulars deceive the senses, if we would disguise those things and labor to make them seem more miraculous. But we do hate all impostures and lies, insomuch as we have severely forbidden it to all our fellows, under pain of ignominy and fines, that they do not show any natural work or thing, adorned or swelling, but only pure as it is, and without all affectation of strangeness.

“These are (my son) the riches of Solomon’s House.

“For the several Employments and Offices of our fellows, we have twelve that sail into foreign countries under the names of other nations (for our own we conceal), who bring us the books, and abstracts, and patterns of experiments of all other parts. These we call Merchants of Light.

“We have three that collect the experiments which are in all books. These we call Depredators.

“We have three that collect the experiments of all mechanical arts, and also of liberal sciences, and also of practices which are not brought into arts. These we call Mystery-men.

“We have three that try new experiments such as themselves think good. These we call Pioneers or Miners.

“We have three that draw the experiments of the former four into titles and tables, to give the better light for the drawing of observations and axioms out of them. These we call Compilers.

“We have three that look into the experiments of their fellows, and cast about how to draw out of them things of use and practice for man’s life, and knowledge as well for works as for plain demonstration of causes, means of predictions, and the easy and clear discovery of the properties and parts of bodies. These we call Dowry-men or Benefactors.

“Then after diverse meetings and consultations of our whole number, to consider of the former labors and collections, we have three that take care, out of them, to direct new experiments, of a higher light, more penetrating into nature than the former. These we call Lamps.

“We have three others that do execute the experiments so directed, and report them. These we call Inoculators.

“Lastly, we have three that raise the former discoveries by experiments into greater observations, axioms, and aphorisms. These we call Interpreters of Nature.

“We have also, as you must think, novices and apprentices, that the successions of the former employed men do not fail, besides a great number of servants and attendants, men and women. And this we do also: we have consultations, which of the inventions and experiences that we have discovered shall be made public, and which not, and take all an oath of secrecy, for the concealing of those which we think fit to keep secret, though some of those we do reveal sometimes to the state, and some not.

“For our Ordinances and Rites: we have two very long and fair galleries, in one of these we place patterns and samples of all manner of the more rare and excellent inventions, in the other we place the statues of all principal inventors. There we have the statue of your Columbus, who discovered the West Indies, also the inventor of ships, your monk [Roger Bacon] that was the inventor of ordnance and of gunpowder, the inventor of music, the inventor of letters; the inventor of printing, the inventor of observations of astronomy, the inventor of works in metal, the inventor of glass, the inventor of silk of the worm, the inventor of wine, the inventor of corn and bread, the inventor of sugars, and all these by more certain tradition than you have. Then have we diverse inventors of our own, of excellent works, which since you have not seen, it were too long to make descriptions of them. And besides, in the right understanding of those descriptions you might easily be mistaken. For upon every invention of value, we erect a statue to the inventor and give him a liberal and honorable reward. These statues are some of brass, some of marble and touchstone, some of cedar and other special woods gilt and adorned, some of iron, some of silver, some of gold.

“We have certain hymns and services, which we say daily, of praise and thanks to God for his marvelous works, and form of prayers, imploring his aid and blessing for the illumination of our labors and the turning of them into good and holy uses.

“Lastly, we have tours or visits of diverse principal cities of the kingdom, where, as it comes to pass, we do publish such new profitable inventions as we think good. And we do also make predictions of diseases, plagues, swarms of hurtful creatures, scarcity, tempests, earthquakes, great floods, comets, temperature of the year, and diverse other things, and we give counsel thereupon what the people shall do for the prevention and remedy of them.”

And when he had said this, he stood up, and I, as I had been taught, kneeled down and he laid his right hand upon my head and said: “God bless thee, my son and God bless this relation which I have made. I give thee leave to publish it for the good of other nations, for we here are in God’s bosom, a land unknown.” And so he left me, having assigned a value of about two thousand ducats, for a bounty to me and my fellows. For they give great largess where they come upon all occasions.

SELECTED BIBLIOGRAPHY

Numerous editions of Bacon’s collected and individual works have been published since the seventeenth century. The Spedding, Ellis, Heath edition is the most complete and has been the standard edition throughout the twentieth century. Three Latin manuscripts not included in the Spedding edition were translated and published in Farrington (1964). A new, annotated edition of Bacon’s English works has been produced by Vickers (1996) as part of the “Oxford Authors” series. In addition, a new critical edition of the complete works of Bacon is in progress (see Rees [1996b] for the first installment in this series).

Achinstein, Sharon (1988). “How to Be a Progressive without Looking Like One: History and Knowledge in Bacon’s New Atlantis.” Clio 17:149–64.

Albanese, Denise (1990). “The New Atlantis and the Use of Utopia.” English Literary History 57:503–28.

Alexander, Peter (1985). Ideas, Qualities, and Corpuscles: Locke and Boyle on the External World. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Anderson, Fulton H. (1948). The Philosophy of Francis Bacon. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

———(1962). Francis Bacon: His Career and His Thought. Los Angeles: University of Southern California Press.

Aughterson, Kate (1992). “‘The Waking Vision’: Reference in the New Atlantis.” Renaissance Quarterly 45:119–39.

Barnouw, Jeffrey (1981). “The Separation of Reason and Faith in Bacon and Hobbes, and Leibniz’s Theodicy.” Journal of the History of Ideas 42:607–28.

Bennett, J. A. (1986). “The Mechanics’ Philosophy and the Mechanical Philosophy.” History of Science 24:1–28.

Bernard, Claude (1865/1957). An Introduction to the Study of Experimental Medicine. New York: Dover.

Bowen, Catherine D. (1963). Francis Bacon: The Temper of a Man. London: Hamish Hamilton.

Box, Ian (1989). The Social Thought of Francis Bacon. Lewiston, NY: Edwin Mellen Press.

Boyle, Robert (1772/1965). The Collected Work of the Honourable Robert Boyle. Thomas Birch, ed. Hildesheim, Germany: George Olms facs. ed.

Brewster, David (1855). Memoirs of the Life, Writings, and Discoveries of Sir Isaac Newton. 2 vols. Boston: Little, Brown.

Briggs, John C. (1989). Francis Bacon and the Rhetoric of Nature. Cambridge, MA: Harvard University Press.

Buchwald, Jed Z., ed. (1995). Scientific Practice. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Burian, Richard (1977). “More than a Marriage of Convenience.” Philosophy of Science 44:1–42.

Butterfield, Herbert (1957). The Origins of Modern Science. New York: The Free Press.

Butts, Robert E. (1977). “Consilience of Inductions and the Problem of Conceptual Change in Science.” In Logic, Laws and Life—Some Philosophical Complications. R. G. Colodny, ed. Pittsburgh: University of Pittsburgh Press.

Cardwell, Kenneth W. (1990). “Francis Bacon, Inquisitor.” In Francis Bacon’s Legacy of Texts. William A. Sessions, ed. New York: AMS Press, pp. 269–89.

Clucas, Stephen (1997). “‘The Infinite Variety of Formes and Magnitude’: 16th and 17th Century English Corpuscular Philosophy and Aristotelian Theories of Matter and Form.” Early Science and Medicine 2:251–71.

Cohen, L. Jonathan (1980). “Some Historical Remarks on the Baconian Conception of Probability.” Journal of the History of Ideas 41:219–31.

Comte, Auguste (1848/1955). A General View of Positivism. J. H. Bridges, trans. Stanford, CA: Academic Reprints.

Coquillette, Daniel R. (1992). Francis Bacon. Stanford, CA: Stanford University Press.

Daston, Lorraine J. (1988). “The Factual Sensibility.” Isis 79:452–67.

Davis, J. C. (1981). Utopia and the Ideal Society: A Study of English Utopian Writing 1516–1700. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Davy, Humphry (1840). The Collected Work of Sir Humphry Davy, vol. 7. John Davy, ed. London: Smith, Elder and Co.

Debus, Allen G. (1973). “Motion in the Chemical Texts of the Renaissance.” Isis 64:5–17.

Descartes, René (1991). The Philosophical Writings of Descartes. John Cottingham et al., trans. 3 vols. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Diderot, Denis (1754/1981). Pensées sur l’interprétations de la nature. In Diderot: Oeuvres Complètes, vol. 9. Jean Varloot, ed. Paris: Hermann.

Ducasse, C. J. (1960). “Francis Bacon’s Philosophy of Science.” In Theories of Scientific Method. E. H. Madden, ed. Seattle: University of Washington Press, pp. 50–74.

Duhem, Pierre (1905/1981). The Aim and Structure of Physical Theory. Philip P. Wiener, trans. New York: Athenaeum.

Elana, Alberto (1991). “Baconianism in the Seventeenth Century Netherlands: A Preliminary Survey.” Nuncius 6:33–47.

Emerton, Norma E. (1984). The Scientific Reinterpretation of Form. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Epstein, Joel J. (1977). Francis Bacon: A Political Biography. Athens: Ohio University Press.

Farrington, Benjamin (1964). The Philosophy of Francis Bacon: An Essay on Its Development from 1603–1609. Liverpool: Liverpool University Press.

———(1979). Francis Bacon: Philosopher of Industrial Science. New York: Henry Schuman.

Findlen, Paula (1997). “Francis Bacon and the Reform of Natural History in the Seventeenth Century.” In History and the Disciplines: The Reclassification of Knowledge in Early Modern Europe. Donald R. Kelley, ed. Rochester, NY: University of Rochester Press, pp. 239–60.

Fisch, Menachem (1985). “Whewell’s Consilience of Inductions—An Evaluation.” Philosophy of Science 52:239–55.

Frank, Robert G., Jr. (1980). Harvey and the Oxford Physiologists. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Giere, Ronald N. (1976). “History and Philosophy of Science: Intimate Relationship or Marriage of Convenience.” Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 7:282–97.

Gilbert, Neal (1960). Renaissance Concepts of Method. New York: Columbia University Press.

Glanvill, Joseph (1665/1978). Scepsis Scientifica. New York: Garland. facs. ed. of London: Cotes and Eversden.

Gooding, David, Trevor Pinch, and Simon Schaffer, eds. (1989). The Uses of Experiment. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Gutting, Gary (1980). “The Logic of Invention.” In Scientific Discovery, Logic, and Rationality. Thomas Nickles, ed. Dordrecht: D. Reidel, pp. 221–34.

Hacking, Ian (1983). Representing and Intervening. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hanson, Norwood R. (1958). Patterns of Discovery. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Harding, Sandra (1986). The Science Question in Feminism. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

Harding, Sandra, and Jean F. O’Barr, eds. (1987). Sex and Scientific Inquiry. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Harré, Rom (1981). Great Scientific Experiments. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Hattaway, Michael (1978). “Bacon and ‘Knowledge Broken’: Limits for Scientific Method.” Journal of the History of Ideas 39:183–97.

Herschel, John F. W. (1830/1987). A Preliminary Discourse on the Study of Natural Philosophy. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Hesse, Mary (1964). “Francis Bacon.” In A Critical History of Western Philosophy. D. J. O’Connor, ed. New York: The Free Press, pp. 141–52.

———(1968). “Francis Bacon’s Philosophy of Science.” In Essential Articles for the Study of Francis Bacon. Brian Vickers, ed. Hamden, CT: Archon Press, pp. 115–39.

Hogan, John C., and Mortimer D. Schwartz (1983). “On Bacon’s ‘Rules and Maximes’ of the Common Law.” Law Library Journal 76:48–77.

Horton, Mary (1973). “In Defence of Francis Bacon.” Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 4:241–78.

———(1982). “Bacon and ‘Knowledge Broken’: An Answer to Michael Hattaway.” Journal of the History of Ideas 43:487–505.

Hume, David (1758/1979). An Inquiry Concerning Human Understanding. Charles W. Hendel, ed. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill.

Hunter, Michael (1981). Science and Society in Restoration England. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

———(1988). “Promoting the New Science: Henry Oldenburg and the Early Royal Society.” History of Science 26:165–81.

———(1991). “The Early Royal Society and the Shape of Knowledge.” In The Shapes of Knowledge from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment. Donald R. Kelley and Richard H. Popkin, eds. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic, pp. 189–202.

———, ed. (1994). Robert Boyle Reconsidered. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Hunter, Michael, and Paul B. Wood (1986). “Towards Solomon’s House: Rival Strategies for Reforming the Early Royal Society.” History of Science 24:49–108.

Jardine, Lisa (1974). Francis Bacon: Discovery and the Art of Discourse. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

———(1990). “Experientia Literata or Novum Organum? The Dilemma of Bacon’s Scientific Method.” In Francis Bacon’s Legacy of Texts. William A. Sessions, ed. New York: AMS Press, pp. 47–67.

Jardine, Lisa, and Alan Stewart (1998). Hostage to Fortune: The Troubled Life of Francis Bacon. London: Gollancz.

Jardine, N., J. A. Secord, E. C. Spary, eds. (1996). Cultures of Natural History. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Jevons, William (1875). The Principles of Science: A Treatise on Logic and Scientific Method. New York: Macmillan.

Jones, Richard Foster (1961). Ancients and Moderns: A Study of the Rise of the Scientific Movement in Seventeenth-Century England. St. Louis: Washington University Press.

Keller, Evelyn Fox (1985). Reflections on Gender and Science. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

———(1987). “Feminism and Science.” In Sex and Scientific Inquiry. Sandra Harding and Jean F. O’Barr, eds. Chicago: University of Chicago Press, pp. 233–46.

Kocher, Paul (1957). “Francis Bacon and the Science of Jurisprudence.” Journal of the History of Ideas 18:3–26.

———(1958). “Francis Bacon and His Father.” Huntington Library Quarterly 21:133–58.

Larsen, Robert E. (1962). “The Aristotelianism of Bacon’s Novum Organum.” Journal of the History of Ideas 23:435–50.

Laudan, Larry (1971). “William Whewell on the Consilience of Inductions.” Monist 55:368–91.

———(1980). “Why Was the Logic of Discovery Abandoned?” In Scientific Discovery, Logic and Rationality. Thomas Nickles, ed. Dordrecht: D. Reidel, pp. 173–83.

———(1981). Science and Hypothesis: Historical Essays on Scientific Methodology. Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

Lavoisier, Antoine (1790/1965). Elements of Chemistry. Robert Kerr, trans. of Traité élémentaire de Chimie (1789). New York: Dover reprint.

LeGrand, Homer E., ed. (1990). Experimental Inquiries: Historical, Philosophical and Sociological Studies of Experimentation in Science. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic.

Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm (1989). Philosophical Essays. Roger Ariew and Daniel Garber, trans. Indianapolis: Hackett.

Linden, Stanton J. (1974). “Francis Bacon and Alchemy: The Reformation of Vulcan.” Journal of the History of Ideas 35:547–60.

Locke, John (1690/1976). An Essay Concerning Human Understanding. Abridgment. John W. Yolton, ed. London: J. M. Dent.

Longino, Helen E. (1990). Science as Social Knowledge: Values and Objectivity in Scientific Inquiry. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

Maddison, R. E. W. (1969). The Life of the Honourable Robert Boyle, FRS. New York: Barnes and Noble.

Martin, Julian (1992). Francis Bacon, the State and the Reform of Natural Philosophy. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

McCabe, Bernard (1964). “Francis Bacon and the Natural Law Tradition.” Natural Law Forum 9:111–21.

McMullin, Ernan (1968). “Empiricism and the Scientific Revolution.” In Art, Science, and History in the Renaissance. Charles S. Singleton, ed. Baltimore: Johns Hopkins Press, pp. 331–69.

———(1985). “Openness and Secrecy in Science: Some Notes on Early History.” Science, Technology and Human Values 10:14–23.

———(1990). “Conceptions of Science in the Scientific Revolution.” In Reappraisals of the Scientific Revolution. David C. Lindberg and Robert S. Westman, eds. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 27–92.

———(1992). “Introduction: The Social Dimensions of Science.” In The Social Dimensions of Science. Ernan McMullin, ed. Notre Dame, IN: University of Notre Dame Press, pp. 1–28.

Merchant, Carolyn (1980). The Death of Nature. New York: Harper and Row.

Mill, John Stuart (1855). A System of Logic, Ratiocinative and Inductive; Being a Connected View of the Principles of Evidence and the Methods of Scientific Investigation. New York: Harper and Bros.

———(1866). The Positive Philosophy of Auguste Comte. Boston: Wm. V. Spencer.

Milton, J. R. (1987). “Induction Before Hume.” British Journal for the Philosophy of Science 38:49–74.

Morrison, James C. (1977). “Philosophy and History in Bacon.” Journal of the History of Ideas 38:585–606.

Newman, William R. (1998a). “Alchemical and Baconian Views on the Art/Nature Division.” In Reading the Book of Nature. Allen G. Debus and Michael T. Walton, eds. Kirksville, MO: Sixteenth-Century Journal Publications, pp. 81–90.

———(1998b). “Alchemy, Domination, and Gender.” In A House Built on Sand:Exposing Postmodernist Myths about Science. Noretta Koertge, ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 216–26.

Newton, Isaac (1672). “New Theory about Light and Colours.” Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society 6:3075–87.

———(1730/1979). Opticks. 4th ed. New York: Dover.

Nickles, Thomas, ed. (1980). Scientific Discovery, Logic, and Rationality. Dordrecht: D. Reidel.

———(1985). “Beyond Divorce: Current Status of the Discovery Debate.” Philosophy of Science 52:177–206.

———(1987). “’Twixt Method and Madness.” In The Process of Science. Nancy Nersessian, ed. Dordrecht: Martinus Nijhoff, pp. 41–67.

Oldenburg, Henry (1965). The Correspondence of Henry Oldenburg. 11 vols. A. Rupert Hall and Marie Boas Hall, eds. Madison: University of Wisconsin Press.

Olivieri, Grazia Tonelli (1991). “Galen and Francis Bacon: Faculties of the Soul and the Classification of Knowledge.” In The Shapes of Knowledge from the Renaissance to the Enlightenment. Donald R. Kelley and Richard H. Popkin, eds. Dordrecht: Kluwer Academic, pp. 61–81.

Park, Katherine (1984). “Bacon’s Enchanted Glass.” Isis 75:290–302.

Park, Katherine, and Lorraine J. Daston (1981). “Unnatural Conceptions: The Study of Monsters in Sixteenth and Seventeenth Century France and England.” Past and Present 92:20–54.

Peirce, Charles Sanders (1966). Selected Writings. Philip P. Wiener, ed. New York: Dover.

Peltonen, Markku (1992). “Politics and Science: Francis Bacon and the True Greatness of States.” The Historical Journal 35:279–305.

———, ed. (1996). The Cambridge Companion to Bacon. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

Perez-Ramos, Antonio (1988). Francis Bacon’s Idea of Science and the Maker’s Knowledge Tradition. Oxford: Clarendon Press.

———(1991). “Francis Bacon and the Disputations of the Learned.” British Journal for the Philosophy of Science 42:577–88.

———(1996). “Bacon’s Legacy.” In The Cambridge Companion to Bacon. Markku Peltonen, ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 311–34.

Pickering, Andrew, ed. (1992). Science as Practice and Culture. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

Pinnick, Cassandra L. (1994). “Feminist Epistemology: Implications for Philosophy of Science.” Philosophy of Science 61:646–57.

———(1998). “Francis Bacon: A Sure Plan.” Metascience 7:515–23.

———(1999). “Feminist Philosophy of Science: High Hopes.” Metascience, forthcoming.

Popkin, Richard H. (1979). The History of Skepticism from Erasmus to Spinoza. Berkeley: University of California Press.

Popper, Karl R. (1968). The Logic of Scientific Discovery. New York: Harper and Row.

Rattansi, P. N. (1968). “The Intellectual Origins of the Royal Society.” Notes and Records of the Royal Society of London 23:129–43.

Rawley, William (1670/1857). “Life of the Right Honourable Francis Bacon, Baron of Verulam.” In The Works of Francis Bacon, vol. 1. James Spedding, Robert L. Ellis, and Douglas D. Heath, eds. London: Longman and Co.

Rees, Graham (1975a). “Francis Bacon’s Semi-Paracelsian Cosmology and The Great Instauration.” Ambix 22:161–73.

———(1975b). “Francis Bacon’s Semi-Paracelsian Cosmology.” Ambix 22:81–101.

———(1977a). “Matter Theory: A Unifying Factor in Bacon’s Natural Philosophy?” Ambix 24:110–25.

———(1977b). “The Fate of Bacon’s Cosmology in the Seventeenth Century.” Ambix 24:27–38.

———(1990). “The Transmission of Bacon Texts: Some Unanswered Questions.” In Francis Bacon’s Legacy of Texts. William A. Sessions, ed. New York: AMS Press, pp. 311–23.

———(1996a). “Bacon’s Speculative Philosophy.” In The Cambridge Companion to Bacon. Markku Petonen, ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 121–45.

———, ed. (1996b). The Oxford Francis Bacon, vol. 6. Philosophical Studies C.1611–C.1619. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Renaldo, John J. (1976). “Bacon’s Empiricism, Boyle’s Science, and the Jesuit Response in Italy.” Journal of the History of Ideas 37:689–95.

Rossi, Paolo (1968). Francis Bacon: From Magic to Science. Sacha Rabinovitch, trans. London: Routledge and Kegan Paul.

Sargent, Rose-Mary (1986). “Robert Boyle’s Baconian Inheritance: A Response to Laudan’s Cartesian Thesis.” Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 17:469–86.

———(1989). “Scientific Experiment and Legal Expertise: The Way of Experience in Seventeenth-Century England.” Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 20:19–45.

———(1995). The Diffident Naturalist: Robert Boyle and the Philosophy of Experiment. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

———(1996). “Bacon as an Advocate for Cooperative Scientific Research.” In The Cambridge Companion to Bacon. Markku Petonen, ed. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press, pp. 146–71.

Sessions, William A., ed. (1990). Francis Bacon’s Legacy of Texts: The Art of Discovery Grows with Discovery. New York: AMS Press.

Shapiro, Barbara (1975). “Law Reform in Seventeenth-Century England.” American Journal of Legal History 19:280–312.

———(1980). “Sir Francis Bacon and the Mid-Seventeenth Century Movement for Law Reform.” The American Journal of Legal History 24:331–62.

———(1983). Probability and Certainty in Seventeenth-Century England. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

———(1991). “Early Modern Intellectual Life: Humanism, Religion and Science in Seventeenth-Century England.” History of Science 29:45–71.

Snyder, Laura J. (1997a). “Discoverers’ Induction.” Philosophy of Science 64:580–604.

———(1997b). “The Mill-Whewell Debate: Much Ado about Induction.” Perspectives on Science 5:159–98.

Soble, Alan (1998). “In Defense of Bacon.” In A House Built on Sand: Exposing Postmodernist Myths about Science. Noretta Koertge, ed. Oxford: Oxford University Press, pp. 195–215.

Spedding, James, Robert L. Ellis, and Douglas D. Heath, eds. (1857–74). The Works of Francis Bacon. 14 vols. London: Longman and Co.

Spinoza, Baruch (1927). The Correspondence of Spinoza. A. Wolf, ed. New York: Lincoln, MacVeagh.

Urbach, Peter (1982). “Francis Bacon as a Precursor to Popper.” British Journal for the Philosophy of Science 33:113–32.

———(1987). Francis Bacon’s Philosophy of Science: An Account and a Reappraisal. LaSalle, IL: Open Court.

van den Daele, Wolfgang (1977). “The Social Contruction of Science: Institutionalization and Definition of Positive Science in the Latter Half of the Seventeenth Century.” In The Social Production of Scientific Knowledge. Everett Mendelsohn et al., eds. Dordrecht: D. Reidel, pp. 27–54.

van Helden, Albert (1983). “The Birth of the Modern Scientific Instrument, 1500–1700.” In The Uses of Science in the Age of Newton. John G. Burke, ed. Berkeley: University of California Press, pp. 49–84.

van Helden, Albert, and Thomas L. Hankins (1994). “Introduction: Instruments in the History of Science.” Osiris 9:1–6.

Vickers, Brian, ed. (1968a). Essential Articles for the Study of Francis Bacon. Hamden, CT: Archon Books.

———(1968b). Francis Bacon and Renaissance Prose. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

———, ed. (1987). English Science, Bacon to Newton. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

———(1992). “Francis Bacon and the Progress of Knowledge.” Journal of the History of Ideas 53:495–518.

———, ed. (1996). Francis Bacon. Oxford Authors Series. Oxford: Oxford University Press.

Voltaire (1733/1961). Philosophical Letters. Ernest Delworth, trans. Indianapolis: Bobbs-Merrill.

Webster, Charles (1970). Samuel Hartlib and the Advancement of Learning. Cambridge: Cambridge University Press.

———(1975). The Great Instauration: Science, Medicine and Reform, 1626–1660. New York: Holmes and Meier.

Weinberger, Jerry (1985). Science, Faith, and Politics: Francis Bacon and the Utoian Roots of the Modern Age. Ithaca, NY: Cornell University Press.

———(1986). “Science and Rule in Bacon’s Utopia: An Introduction to the Reading of the New Atlantis.” American Political Science Review 70:865–85.

Westfall, Richard S. (1958). Science and Religion in Seventeenth-Century England. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

Wheeler, Harvey (1990). “Francis Bacon’s New Atlantis: The ‘Mould’ of a Lawfinding Commonwealth.” In Francis Bacon’s Legacy of Texts. William A. Sessions, ed. New York: AMS Press, pp. 291–310.

Whewell, William (1847/1984). Philosophy of the Inductive Sciences. In William Whewell, Selected Writings on the History of Science. Yehuda Elkana, ed. Chicago: University of Chicago Press.

———(1849/1989). Of Induction, with Especial Reference to Mr. J. Stuart Mill’s System of Logic. In William Whewell, Theory of Scientific Method. Robert E. Butts, ed. Indianapolis: Hackett.

———(1858). Novum Organon Renovatum. 3rd ed. London: John W. Parker and Son.

Whitney, Charles (1986). Francis Bacon and Modernity. New Haven, CT: Yale University Press.

———(1990). “Merchants of Light: Science as Colonization in the New Atlantis.” In Francis Bacon’s Legacy of Texts. William A. Sessions, ed. New York: AMS Press, pp. 255–68.

Wood, N. (1975). “The Baconian Character of Locke’s Essay.” Studies in History and Philosophy of Science 6:43–84.

Zagorin, Perez (1998). Francis Bacon. Princeton, NJ: Princeton University Press.

INDEX

Page numbers refer to the printed book

Abel, 31

Acatalepsia, 108, 114, 144

Achilles, 39

active sciences, x, xv–xvii, xxx, 29, 31, 81, 93, 147, 149

as goal, xxi, 76, 89, 147–48, 191

Adam, 75, 257, 260

Adonis, 22

Adrian, 37

Advancement of Learning, xi–xvi, xx, 1–3, 63, 145

Advertisement Touching the Controversies of the Church of England, vii

Aeschines, 13, 129

Aesop, 25, 48

Agesilaus the Spartan, 16, 44

agriculture, xix, 195, 205

Agrippa, 38

Agrippina, 48

Albertus Maximus, 24

alchemists, 28, 52, 90, 105, 121. See also chemists

alchemy, 1, 2, 25. See also chemistry

Alexander the Great, 2, 39–41, 44

and Aristotle, 10, 39, 52

military accomplishments of, 27, 44, 122, 129

Alexander, Peter, xv

Alexandria, 226

Altabin, 251

Amadis of Gaul, 122

Americas, 73, 112, 136

as Atlantis, 142, 239, 250–52

analogy, 60, 179–80, 184

Anaxagoras, 105, 211

Anderson, Fulton H., vi

Andes, 157

Anglican Church, vii, viii

ant metaphor, 128

anticipations of nature, xvii, xviii, xxiv, xxxi, xxxiii, 93–94

Antipater, 40, 41

antiquity, 26, 33, 35, 112, 146

Bacon’s assessment of, 69–71, 74, 119–20, 142, 192

respect for, 88, 94, 101, 119–20

systems of, 122, 143–44

Antoninus, Marcus Aurelius, 5, 38, 40

Antonius Pius, 37

aphorisms, xxxvii, 27, 64, 122

Apollo, 35, 37, 48

Apology in Certain Imputations Concerning the late Earl of Essex, viii

Apophthegms, x

aqua fortis, 162, 218

aqua regia, 162

Arabians, 24, 250

Archimedes, 26, 223

Aristippus, 19

Aristotelian philosophy, xiii, xiv. See also scholastic philosophy

Aristotle, 22, 25, 26, 108, 192

and Alexander the Great, 10, 39–41, 52

doctrines of, xiii, xiv, xxviii, 111, 114–15, 124, 208, 211

and history of animals, 24, 52, 105, 130, 227

logic of, xvii, 28, 100, 104–5, 128

Artaxerxes, 43

Arthur of Britain, 122

artificial productions, xix, 191–92, 195, 232, 262–67

artillery, 25, 187, 205, 266

artisans, xxiii

arts, xix, 69, 82, 126, 145, 146, 180, 191–92, 194–95

Arundel, Earl of, x

Ascham, 21

Asia, 112

Assyria, 10

astrology, 2, 25, 97, 112

astronomy, 32, 52, 65, 117, 120, 196, 200, 267, 268

Atalanta, 29, 82, 110

atheism, ix, xiv, 9

Athenians, 44, 251

Atlantic Ocean, 127, 250

Atlantis, 142, 239, 250–52

atomism, xiv, 101, 106, 108, 153–54

Atticus, 12, 17

axioms, xvi, 81, 93, 102, 109, 118, 120, 132, 154, 178

concerning simple natures, 141, 150, 151, 154

for design of experiments, 138, 154, 226

discovered by induction, xvi, xviii, 64, 78, 81, 92, 95, 132–33, 155, 180, 183

for the transformation of bodies, 106–7, 150

Babel, 212

Bacchus, 35, 120

Bacon, Ann (Cooke), vi

Bacon, Anthony, vi

Bacon, Francis

as Attorney General, viii

as Baron Verulam, ix, xxviii, 66

bribery charges against, ix, 239

death of, x, xi

knighthood, viii

legal and political career, vi–x, xvi–xvii

literary works, ix–x, 239

as Lord Chancellor, ix, xxv, 63

as Lord Keeper, viii

marriage of, viii, 240

philosophical project, x–xxi, xxiv, xxvi, xxxvii, 240

as Privy Counsellor, viii

relationship with Essex, vii–viii

relationship with Queen Elizabeth, vii–viii, ix, xx

religious views of, xii–xiii, 6–9, 34, 39, 106, 124–25

as Solicitor General, viii

as Viscount St. Albans, ix, 225

Bacon, Nicholas, vi

Bacon, Roger, 268

Barnham, Alice, viii

Barnouw, Jeffrey, xii

Bartholomew, 248

bee metaphor, 128

Benefactors, 267

Bernard, Claude, xxxi

Bible. See Scripture

book metaphor, xii, xxxiii, 9, 34

Borgia, 95

Box, Ian, xvii

Boyle, Robert, xxi, xxii, xxxiv, 208, 209

breadmaking, 120, 204, 264, 268

Brief Discourse Touching the Happy Union of the Kingdoms of England and Scotland, viii

Briggs, John C., xii

Bruno, Giordano, 211

Brutus, 15

Buchwald, Jed Z., xxxiv

Burghley, Lord. See Cecil, William

Burian, Richard, xxxiv

burning glasses, 158, 167

business activities, 9, 12–13, 72, 88, 145, 240

Caesar, Augustus, 5, 46

Caesar, Julius, 2, 15, 17, 122, 211, 226

learning of, 10, 39, 42

speeches of, 42–43

Cain, 31

calendar glasses, 163, 168–69, 172, 176, 179

Callisthenes, 39, 40

Calvinism, vi, xvi

Cambridge University, vi, xiii

Campanella, 211

Cardanus, 24

Cardwell, Kenneth W., vii

Carneades, 10, 111

Carr of Cambridge, 21

Carthaginians, 250

Caspian Sea, 198

Cassander, 40

Cassius, 15

Catholicism, vii

Cato the Censor, 10, 13

Cato the Younger, 12, 16, 17

causes, xxvi, xxix, 84, 240

of common things, 140, 187, 188, 196

discovery of, xvi, xix, xxvi, 82, 98, 125, 130, 136, 188, 214, 227, 267

of diseases, 10, 203

efficient causes, xiv, 58, 148–49, 154, 187

final causes, xiv, xxv, 58, 98, 106, 148–49

formal causes, xiv, 148–49

intermediate causes, 10, 106, 125

material causes, xiv, 58, 148–49, 187

as rules for operation, xvi, 90, 149, 171, 177, 187

Cecil, William, Lord Burghley, vi, x, xiii, xvi

Celsus, 112

Celts, 112

Ceres, 35, 120

Certain Considerations Touching the better Pacification and Edification of the Church of England, viii

Chaldeans, 250

charity, xvi, xxi, xxii, 7–8, 9, 74, 212

Charles I, King, x, 207, 208, 210, 225

Charles II, King, xxii

chemical

distillations, xiv, xix, 120, 153, 164, 176, 235, 264

oils, 219, 223

processes, xix, 1, 107, 153, 209, 227

chemists, xviii, xix, xxvii, 100, 110, 113. See also alchemists

chemistry, xiv, xix, xxii, xxvi–xxviii, 201–3. See also alchemy

China, 120, 241, 250, 252, 253, 262

Christ, 32, 33, 36, 37, 213, 243, 247, 248, 257

Christianity, 33–34, 38, 116, 124

of Bensalem, 242–43, 245, 247–48

Chrysippus, 111

Cicero, 10, 12, 16, 21, 22, 28, 42, 51, 53, 114, 211

eloquence of, 14, 17

Clarke, Samuel, xxv

Clement the Seventh, 12

clocks, 120, 195

Cohen, L. Jonathan, xvii

College of the Six Days Works. See Solomon’s House

colleges. See universities

color, nature of, 178, 179, 185, 265

Columbus, Christopher, 27, 127, 268

comets, 158, 200

Commencement of Interpretation, 173–78

Commodus, 36, 38

communication, xxi, xxiii

Compilers, 267

Comte, Auguste, xxx, xxxii

consilience of inductions, xxix

Constantine the Great, 37

contemplation, 8, 28, 31, 70, 101, 106, 117, 147, 217

cookery, xix, 195, 204

cooperative research, xix, xx–xxi, xxiii, xxv, xxxiv, xxxv, 3, 49, 75, 136, 190, 240

Copernicus, xxviii

Coquillette, Daniel R., vi, vii, ix

corpuscular philosophy, xiv

cosmography, 32, 52, 200

crafts. See arts

Craterus, 41

creation of the world, xiii, xiv, xvi, 30–31, 72, 85, 110, 140–41, 189, 212

credulity, 24–26, 74, 122, 129, 197

Cromwell, Oliver, xxii

crucial experiments, xxiv, xxxii, xxxiii

crucial instances, xix, xxiii, xxviii, 182, 214

Cupid, myth of, xiv

Cyrus the Younger, 43, 47

Daedalus, 52

Daniel, 127

Darius, 39, 41

Daston, Lorraine J., xxiii, xxxiv

Davy, Humphry, xxvii

De Augmentis, xi, xxxvii, 1

Declaration of the Practices and Treasons Attempted and Committed by Robert, late Earl of Essex, viii

deductive logic, xxxiii, 63, 72, 77, 109. See also syllogism

Democritus, xiv, 26, 40, 99, 101, 105, 111, 211, 231

Demosthenes, 13, 16, 17, 21

density, 82, 97, 104, 140, 184, 216–24

Depredators, 267

Descartes, René, xxi, xxiv–xxv, xxvi, xxx, xxxi

Devereux, Robert, Earl of Essex, vii–viii

Digby, Kenelm, xxi

Diogenes, 19, 40

Diomedes, 40

Dionysius, 19, 23, 30, 111

Dioscorides, 192

discoveries

already made, 73, 92, 112, 127, 133–34, 214

consequences of, 146

errors in, 214

as imitations of God’s works, 146

discovery, xxxiii–xxxiv, 59, 118

of axioms, xvi, xviii, 64, 93, 110, 118, 132–33,154

of causes, xvi, 81, 82, 98, 112, 130, 136, 267

of forms, xv, 64, 148, 152, 170, 171, 178, 180, 188

tables of, xviii, xxi, 127, 131, 138, 145

dissections of nature, xiv, 81, 99, 108, 143, 185, 188

division of labor. See cooperative research

division of learning, xii, 56–62, 76–77

Domitian, 36

Dowry-men, 267

Ducasse, C. J., xviii, xxxiv

Duhem, Pierre, xxxi–xxxii

Dury, John, xxi

dyeing, xix, 195, 204

dynamic science. See active science

Eden, Garden of, xii, 31

education, xxi, 3, 16

defects in, 50–55, 100, 125–26

effects, production of, xvii, xxxv, 90, 130, 240. See also works

Egypt, 10, 32, 112, 250

elements, doctrine of, 194, 221–22

Elizabeth I, Queen, vi, vii, ix, xx, 1, 2, 14, 38, 49

eloquence, 10, 20, 22, 35, 40, 192

Emerton, Norma E., xv

Empedocles, 105, 111, 211

Empirical school of philosophy, 104–5

empiricism, xviii, 11, 63, 74, 94

Enlightenment, xxv, xxvi

enumerative induction, xviii, 78, 132, 198, 214

Epaminondas, 10

Epictetus, 45

Epicurus, 111

Epstein, Joel J., ix

Erasmus, 21

Ericthonius, myth of, xxxv

errors

of the mind, 66, 98

of the past, xvii, 63, 66, 128, 133, 142

in philosophy, 103, 115–25, 139

Essays or Counsels Civil or Moral, ix

Essex, Earl of. See Devereux, Robert

ethics, xix, 59, 144. See also moral philosophy

Ethiopia, 112

Euclid, 26, 27

exclusion, process of, 78, 170, 172–73, 178, 188

experimental histories. See natural histories

experiments, xix, xxv, xxvi, xxxi, 52, 110

as aid to the senses, xix, 79, 99, 118, 188–89

from axioms, 132, 138, 154, 226, 267

in consort, 208, 225–31

difficulty of, 123, 126, 198, 208, 214, 220–21, 223–24

of fruit, xvi, xxv, 72, 110, 130, 140

of light, xvi, xxv, 72, 110, 130, 140, 183, 214

to manipulate nature, xvii, xxxv, 185–87, 263–67

as rational and empirical, xviii, 63, 74, 128

reporting of, xi, 83, 190–99, 207–8, 214, 219–20, 232

rejection of, 139, 192, 193, 232

solitary, 231, 232

as tests, xvi, xviii, xxvii, xxxii, 112, 182–83, 223

trivial, 81, 139, 196

wandering, xviii, 63, 72, 108, 110, 130

Explication of Conceptions, xxix

facts, xx, xxvii, xxix, 66, 73, 81, 95, 123, 132, 151, 198, 214

Falinus, 44

fall of man, 6–7, 31, 189

Farrington, Benjamin, ix, xvii, xxxiv

Faustina, 19

Feast of the Family, 239, 255–57, 258

feminist criticism, xxxv

final causality, xiv, xxv, 58, 98, 106, 148–49

Findlen, Paula, xxiii, xxxiv

First Vintage, xviii, 173–78

Forms, xv, 31, 64, 148–50, 153, 154, 183, 188, 213

as aim of knowledge, xv, 64, 150, 178

as compound, 170

as fictions, xv, 100, 106

as foundations of the sciences, 148

of heat, 64, 150, 155–78

as laws of nature, xv, 100, 114, 148–49, 171

substantial forms, xiv, xv, 171

as true differences of things, xv, 114, 148, 163, 173, 177

Frank, Robert G., xxii

Galileo, xxi, xxviii, xxxiv

gardens, xx, 52, 205, 206, 240, 263

gems, history of, 65, 201

Genesis, xxi, 106

Geography, 201

Giere, Ronald N., xxxiv

Gilbert, William, 28, 100, 105, 110, 211

glassmaking, xix, xxi, 195, 205, 268

God

as creator, xii–xiii, 6–7, 30–31, 213

as Father of Lights, 54, 127

as Giver and Architect of Forms, 170

kingdom of, 109, 127

gold, 110, 200, 204

in medicine, 233, 236

nature of, 149, 150, 162, 170, 177

weight of, 181, 217, 219–20, 222, 223–24

goldsmiths, 219

Gooding, David, xxxiv

Gorgias, 111

government

and policy, xvii, xx, 1, 9–14, 15, 18, 61–62, 116, 117, 144, 240

support for science, xvi–xvii, xx, 3, 49–52, 68, 126, 190

grammar, 60, 120

Gray’s Inn, vi–vii, xv

Great Instauration, The, x, xi, xii, xiii, xviii, xx, xxxv, xxxvii, 2, 63

Greece, 5, 10, 14, 43–44

Greek philosophy and science, 24, 69, 86, 111, 112, 115, 124, 142

Greenland, 159

Gregory the First, 33

Gregory the Great, 36

gunpowder, xix, 183, 187, 195, 228, 266

consequences of, 146

invention of, 134–35, 268

Gutting, Gary, xxxiv

Hacking, Ian, xxxiv

Hankins, Thomas L., xxxiv

Hanson, Norwood R., xxxiv

Harding, Sandra, xxxv

Harré, Rom, xxxiv

Hartlib, Samuel, xxi–xxii

Harvey, William, xxi, xxxiv

heat, xviii, 265

as an expansive motion, xv, 172, 174–78, 179

form of, xv, 150, 155–78

relative to human sensation, 158, 163–65, 174, 177

Hebrews, 16, 241, 248, 253

Hecuba, 19

Helena, 19

Henry, duke of Guise, 41

Henry VIII, King, vii, x, 225

Hephaestion, 41

Heraclitus, 8, 28, 105, 111, 211

Hercules, 22, 35, 49

Hermes Trimegistus, 1, 5

Hermogenes, 21

Herschel, John F. W., xxvii–xxviii, xxx

Hesse, Mary, xv, xvii, xxxiv

Hippias, 108, 111

hippocras, 227

hippocras bag, 233

Hippocrates, 26

Hippocrates Sleeve, 227

histories, natural and experimental. See natural histories

History of Dense and Rare, xi, 207, 210

History of Life and Death, xi, 211

History of the Reign of King Henry VII, x

History of the Winds, xi, 207, 210

Hogan, John C., vii

Homer, 36, 39, 47

Hooke, Robert, xxii, 208

hope, arguments for, 64, 75, 81, 127–37, 213

Horton, Mary, xvii, xxxiv

Hume, David, xxvi, xxx, xxxii

Hunter, Michael, xxii

hypotheses, xxv, xxvii, xxviii, 84, 208, 212

as anticipations, xxiv, xxxi, xxxiii

need for, xxviii, xxxi

Iceland, 159

idols of the mind, xvii, xxv, xxviii, xxxiii, 60, 80, 93, 95, 137, 143

of the Cave, xxv, 60, 64, 95, 96, 100–1

of the Marketplace, 60, 64, 95, 96, 101–3

of the Theater, 64, 95, 96, 103–9

of the Tribe, xxv, 60, 64, 95, 96–100

imagination, 56, 98, 106, 134, 204

impeachment of Bacon, ix, x, xi, 239

induction, xiv, xxviii, xxix, xxxii, 60, 178, 239

for discovery, xxi, 64, 132–33, 155

by exclusion, 78, 170, 172–73, 178, 188

as logic, xxix, xxxi, 60, 63–65, 77–79, 91–93, 187–88

as method, xvii–xx, xxviii–xxix, xxxii–xxxv, 64, 80–81, 144–45, 155, 170, 178, 192, 213

not enumeration, xviii, xxix, 78, 132

problem of, xxvi, xxxii, xxxiii

as remedy for idols, xvii, 64, 80, 95, 181, 188–89, 212

Indulgence of the Understanding, 173–78

infusions, 229–31, 234, 262

Inoculators, 267

inquisition of nature, xx, 66, 74, 76, 77, 83, 108, 110

Instances of the Fingerpost, xix, xxiii, xxxii, 182, 183, 188. See also crucial instances

instantia crucis, xix, 182

instruments, xx, xxii, 79, 99, 195, 240, 254, 266, 267

need for, 87, 89–90

interpretation

of experiments, xviii, xxxii, 208

fallacies of, 60

as logic, 77, 88, 145, 147, 154

of nature, xvii, xviii, xix, xxxiii, 76, 77, 89, 93–94, 99, 137, 148, 154, 173, 178, 182, 183, 199, 214

Interpreters of Nature, 190, 267

inventions, xvi, 69, 121, 124, 134, 240, 254, 268

authors of, 35, 113, 268

as goal, xiii, xxiii, 73, 77, 135

investigation of nature. See inquisition of nature

Ixion, 12

James I, King, viii, ix, xx, 1, 2, 4–6, 49, 63, 67, 207

Japan, 241

Jardine, Lisa, vi

Jason the Thessalian, 44

Jesuits, 2, 16, 34

Jevons, William Stanley, xxxi–xxxii

Joabin, 257–60

Job, 9, 32, 106

Jones, Richard Foster, vi, xii

Julian, 33, 38

Jupiter, 9, 26, 29, 165

Keller, Evelyn Fox, xxxv

knowledge, xiii, xxi, xxiv, xxx, 7

of causes, xv, xvi, xxvi, 64, 148, 267

desire for, 29, 78

errors in, 23, 24–30, 63, 68–69, 77

of forms, xv, 64, 114, 148, 150

of good and evil, 7, 31, 61, 75

inventory of, xi, 3, 50, 56–62, 76–77, 267

mark of, 143, 150, 154

and power, xv, xvi, xxi, 45–46, 75, 90, 117, 147, 148–49, 240, 267

reform of, x, xx, 1, 50, 66, 83

like water, 71

Kocher, Paul, vii

labor, division of. See cooperative research

laboratories, xx, xxii, 3, 240

Ladder of the Intellect, x, 76

Lamps, 267

languages

faulty use of, 96, 102–3

study of, 21

Larsen, Robert E., xv

latent configurations, 64, 148, 152–54, 171, 189

latent natures, 123, 179

latent processes, 64, 148, 151–52, 154, 171, 189

Laudan, Larry, xxxiv

Lavoisier, Antoine, xxvi–xxvii

laws of governments, vii, 10, 13, 32, 61

laws of nature, xv, xxx, xxxi, 7, 86, 148, 151, 188

learned men

employments of, 13, 14, 16, 24

and fame, 47–48

faults of, 6, 17–19, 129

and fortune, 14–16, 17, 19

manners of, 14, 16–19

vanities of, 20, 123

learned princes, 14, 35–45

learning

classifications of, 2, 3, 54–55, 56–62

defects of, 24–30, 51–55

dignity of, 2, 30–48

errors in, 1, 2, 20, 26–30

reform of, xxi, xxiv, xxxvii, 50, 240

pleasure of, 13, 29, 45, 46–47

vanities of, 2, 20–26, 30

Lebanon, 253

lectures, deficiencies of, 51–52, 125

LeGrand, Homer E., xviii, xxiii, xxxiv

Leibniz, Gottfried Wilhelm, xxiv–xxv

Letter of Advice to Queen Elizabeth, vii

Leucippus, 101, 105, 111, 211

liberal arts, 82, 120, 180, 194, 267

libraries, xx, 3, 20, 50, 121, 199

Limits of Investigation, 178

literary histories, 56

Livy, 27

Locke, John, xxiv, xxvi

lodestone. See magnet

logical positivism, xxxii

Longino, Helen, xxxv

Lucian, 19, 26

Lucretia, 19

Lucretius, 47

Luther, Martin, 20

Machiavelli, 15

Maddison, R. E. W., xxii

magic, 2, 154, 193

natural, 24, 58, 113, 121, 187

superstitious, 121, 187

magicians, 90, 121

magnet

discoveries about, 135–146, 196, 201

and Gilbert, 28, 100, 110

nature of, 123, 179, 180, 183, 186, 187, 197

marriage, customs of, 240, 258–60

Mars, 165

Martin, Julian, ix, xvii

masques, vii, xv

mathematics, 28, 58, 65, 83, 90, 102, 154, 188, 196, 206, 267

matter, 99

contraction and expansion of, 216–24

quantity of, 153, 186, 194, 216–17

Maxims of the Law, vii

McCabe, Bernard, vii

McMullin, Ernan, xvii, xxxiv

mechanical arts, xv, xix, 106, 113, 117, 120, 265, 267

experiments of, 130, 131, 206, 213, 228

history of, 82, 180–81, 191–92, 194–96

progress in, 69–70, 113, 117

mechanical philosophy, xiv, xxi

medical recipes, 203, 207, 208, 230, 233–38

medicine, 59, 65, 107, 112, 117, 203, 244, 263

shops of, 264

Mediterranean Sea, 250

memory, xxi, 53, 56, 60, 145, 179, 204

mental operations, xxi, xxiv, 86, 145

Merchant, Carolyn, xxxv

merchants of light, xx, 190, 254, 267

Mercurius, 35

Mercury, 196, 198

Mersenne, Marin, xxv

metals, histories of, 65, 130, 164, 175, 196

metalworking, xxi, 268

Metaphysics, xvii, 58

as investigation of Forms, 154

Metellus, 43

meteorological phenomena, 200, 263

methodological innovations, xiii, xvii–xx, xxix, 49–50, 94, 145, 208.
See also induction

Methusalem Water, 234–35

Mexico, 250

microscope, 184–265

Midas, 48

Mill, John Stuart, xxix–xxx, xxxii

Milton, John, xxi

mind

as uneven mirror, 7, 24, 80, 96

weakness of, 66, 78, 100–1, 109, 155

Minerva, xxxv, 52, 153

mines, xvii, 184, 200, 262

Minos, 35

modernity, vi, xiii, xxi, xxv, 106

Montaigne, Michel de, ix

moral philosophy, xxviii, 31–32, 40, 45, 61, 116, 117, 239

More, Thomas, 239, 259

Moses, 31, 32, 54, 258

motion, 183, 186, 200, 213, 227–28

and heat, 172, 174–78, 179

local, 107, 195

natural and violent, 107–8, 227–28, 266

natural and voluntary, 151, 202

perpetual, 266

music, 117, 120, 154, 203, 266, 268

Mystery-men, 267

Natural and Experimental History for the Foundation of Philosophy, xi, xix, 207

natural histories, xvii, xx, xxiii, xxiv, xxxvii, 56, 65, 200–6, 207–9

of arts, 82, 180–81

of experiments, 65, 82, 130, 136, 192, 194–95, 210, 211

as foundation for philosophy, xxiv, 68, 79, 81, 130, 147, 154, 190, 211, 213

as received, 82, 130, 138, 190, 192, 199, 208

as remedy for superstition, 124–25, 193

as royal work, xvii, 90, 136, 190

rules for writing, 82, 190–99, 207, 210–15

to supply the understanding, 83, 130, 180–81, 188

natural philosophy, xii, xvii, xix, xxviii, xxxiv, 32, 58, 106, 110–25

of Greece, xiv, 26, 69, 86, 104, 111, 124

neglect of, 69–70, 115–17, 216

reform of, x–xxi, xxii, xxvii, 81, 83, 144, 239–40. See also sciences

natural theology, 57, 128

nature

as book of God’s works, xii, 9, 34, 198

under constraint and vexed, xxxv, 82, 148, 210

as free, 82, 191

navigation, xvii, xx, 25, 73, 146, 205, 252, 254

Nero, 11, 17

Nerva, 36

New Atlantis, xii, xvii, xx, xxii, xxxvii, 239–40

New Organon, The, xi, xii, xiv, xv–xx, xxiii, xxviii, xxx, xxxii, xxxv, xxxvii, 2, 63–65, 207, 240

Newman, William R., xviii, xxxiv, xxxv

Newton, Isaac, xxiii, xxv, xxvi, xxviii, xxxi, xxxiv

Nickles, Thomas, xxxiv

Nova Zembla, 157

novelty, 26, 101, 121

Novum Organon Renovatum, xxix

ointments, 233, 237–38

Oldenburg, Henry, xxiii, xxv

operations. See works

Orpheus, 35

Oxford University, xxii, xxiv

Pan, 48

papacy, 11

paper, xix, 134, 195, 265

Paris, 48

Park, Katherine, xxiii

Parliament, vii, viii, ix

Parmenides, 105, 111, 211

Parmenio, 41

Patricius, 137, 211

Paulet, Amias, vi

Peirce, Charles Sanders, xxx–xxxi

Peltonen, Markku, vi, ix, xvii

percolation experiments, 225–27

Perez-Ramos, Antonio, xv, xvii, xviii, xxxiv

Peripatetics. See Aristotelian philosophy

Persia, 10, 44

Persians, 248, 250

persuasion. See rhetoric

Peru, 157, 241, 250

Petty, William, xxii

Phenomena of the Universe, The, xi, 76

Philip of Macedonia, 37

Philolaus, 111, 211

Philosophical Transactions of the Royal Society, xxiii

philosophical systems, 97, 109, 111, 137, 143

Bacon’s assessments of, 90, 97, 103–6, 108, 112–25, 144

philosophy, xxvii, 56, 57–59, 83, 145

Phocion, 12, 115

Phoenicians, 250

physic, 11, 52

physicians, 11, 90, 107

physics, xviii, 58, 154, 196

Pickering, Andrew, xxxiv

Pillars of Hercules, 250

Pinch, Trevor, xxxiv

Pinnick, Cassandra L., xxxv

Pioneers, 267

Pius Quintus, Pope, 11

Plato, 17, 18, 22, 32, 106, 111, 128, 132, 211, 239, 250

doctrines of, 4, 26, 28, 115

school of, 8, 106, 108

Plato’s cave, 211

Pliny, 24, 140, 192, 196, 198, 208

Plutarch, 22, 38

poesy, 40, 56, 57, 60

politics. See government

Polus, 111

Popper, Karl R., xxxii–xxxiv

Porta, 208

positivism, xxx–xxxii

power, xv–xvii, 23, 138

of God, xii–xiii, xvi, 30, 34

of learning, 43, 117

as political, xvi–xvii, 6, 147, 240

as practical activity, xv–xvi, xxii, xxxiv, 147, 148, 180–81, 240

of works, 30, 117, 147, 185–86

Pragmatism, xxx

predictions, 268

Preparations for Investigation, 178

Preparative towards a Natural and Experimental History, xi, xix, xxxvii, 65, 207

Prerogative Instances, xix, xxviii, xxx, xxxvii, 65, 178–89

Prerogative Natures, 178

printing, 25

consequences of, xx, 146

history of, 205

invention of, 135, 268

for propagation of knowledge, 50, 135

Proclus, 28, 129

Protagoras, 108, 111

Proteus, 195

Proxenus, 43

Pygmalion, 21

pyramid of knowledge, xvii, xxix, xxxii

Pyrrho, 108

Pythagoras, 106, 111, 211

qualities

of bodies, xiv, 107, 178

secondary, 107–8

rape of nature, xxxv

Rational school of philosophy, xxiv, 104–5

Rawley, William, vi, xi, xiii, 63, 208, 225, 239

Rectification of Induction, 178

Rees, Graham, xiii, xv

Renaissance, vi, xxi

Renfusa, 247

Restoration of the English monarchy, xxii

rewards for inventions, 52, 53, 126, 268

rhetoric, xiii, xxi, xxxi, xxxv, 10, 20, 21, 35, 41, 53, 60–61, 239

rhubarb, 230, 233

Roman empire, 36, 37, 115

Rome, 5, 10, 11, 15, 20, 33, 43

Romulus, 17, 35

Rossi, Paolo, xvii, xxii, xxxiv

Royal Institution, xxvii

Royal Society of London, xxii–xxiii, xxiv, xxvii

Saracens, 33

Sargent, Rose-Mary, xxxiv

Saturn, 29, 165

Schaffer, Simon, xxxiv

scholastic philosophy, xxi, 21–24, 51–52, 63–63, 69, 105, 124, 170. See also Aristotelian philosophy

Schwartz, Mortimer D., vii

science and religion, xii–xiii, 9, 74, 104, 106, 124–25

sciences, 75–77

goals of, 77, 117, 143

lack of progress in, 69–70, 117–25

reconstruction of all, x, xx, xxxi, 66, 81, 145, 240

Scripture, xii, 1, 4, 30, 31, 33, 34, 106, 125, 198

as book of God’s word, xii, 9, 34

Scylla, 23, 69

Scythians, 33, 112

secrecy, xix, xx–xxiii, 240, 268

Seneca, 10, 13, 16, 17, 22, 23, 40

senses, 7, 9, 74

failures of, 74, 79, 81, 99, 109

aids for, 78–79, 99, 109, 144, 183–85, 188, 195

Sessions, William A., vi

Severinus, Peter, 137, 211

Sextus Quintus, Pope, 11

Shapiro, Barbara, vii, xvii

Shining or Striking Instances, 174, 179, 188

signs, 111, 112, 113, 115, 137

silk, 181, 204, 265

discovery of, 134–35, 268

Sirius, 165, 166

Soble, Alan, xxxv

sociology, xxx

Socrates, 10, 14, 18, 28, 29, 43, 116

Solamona, 252

Solomon 1, 2, 42, 50, 63, 68, 146, 253

on the dignity of learning, 6, 7, 8, 15, 32–33, 55

Solomon’s House, xvi, xx, 239–40, 247, 253, 257, 260–61

employments of fellows, 240, 254, 267–68

ends of, 240, 261

ordinances and rites of, 240, 268

preparations and instruments of, 240, 261–67

Solon, 16

Sophistical school of philosophy, 104–5

Sophists, 111

Spain, 5, 159, 242

Sparta, 10

Spedding, James, xxvii, xxxvii

spider metaphor, 22, 128

Spinoza, Baruch, xxiv–xxv

St. Elmo’s Fire, 159

St. Paul, 6, 8, 22, 33, 38

Stewart, Alan, vi

Strangers’ House, 243–46

Sturmius, 21

subtlety

of argument, 23, 81, 93

of disputation and discourse, 141

of experiments, 79, 81, 82, 83, 119, 140, 198, 214

of nature, 64, 72, 90, 150, 185

of the senses, 79, 90

of the understanding, 90, 98, 141

sugar, xix, 135, 195, 204, 268

superstition, xxx, xxxv, 24–25, 99, 124, 125, 193

Superstitious school of philosophy, 104–6

Sylla, 43, 46

syllogism, xvii, 60, 63, 77–78, 91–92, 131, 133, 145. See also deductive logic

Sylva Sylvarum, xi, xii, xxiii, xxxi, 207, 208

tables, xxviii, xxix, xxxii, 131, 155

of absence, xviii, 156–63

of degrees, xviii, 160, 163–69

of histories, 214

of presence, xviii, 155–56

of presentation, 170, 171, 173, 178, 189

of weights, 207–8, 217–24

Tacitus, 5, 24, 36

technological advances, xiii, xxvii, xxxvi

telescope, 184, 265

Telesius, 137, 211

Tenerife, Peak of, 157

tensions in Bacon’s project, xxi, xxiii, xxiv, xxxiv, xxxv

Thales, 116

Themistocles, 18

theology, 56, 57, 116

Theophrastus, 111, 192

thermoscopes. See calendar glasses

Theseus, 35

time

as the author of authors, 120

judgment of, 70

like a river, 27, 71, 111

measurement of, 186

Titus Livius, 14, 15, 129

Trajan, 36–37

transformation of bodies, 1, 148, 149–53

Translation of Certain Psalms into English Verse, x

transmutation of bodies, 122, 152, 216, 223

travel literature, 239. See also voyages

Trinity College, vi

Triple Subsidy Bill, vii

Tyrians, 250

Ulysses, 48

understanding

no dry light, 8, 99

like a labyrinth, 72

hung with weights, 132

levelling of, xix, xx, 103, 142

universities

criticism of, xiii, 22–23, 50–55

curriculum of, 3, 51–52, 125

Urbach, Peter, xvii, xxxiv

useful knowledge, xiii, xvi, xxi, xxii, xxvii, xxxii, xxxv, 69, 108, 114, 121, 147. See also knowledge, works

vacuum, xiv, 108, 153, 216

van Helden, Albert, xxxiv

vanities of learning, 2, 20–26, 74

Varro, Marcus, 14

Velleius, 28

Venus, 22, 40, 165, 198

vexations of art, xviii, xxxv, 82, 130

Vickers, Brian, vi, x, xiii, xvii, xxii, xxxiv, 3

Vienna Circle, xxxii

Virgil, 10, 14, 41, 45, 46, 50, 52, 55

Voltaire (François-Marie Arouet), xxv–xxvi

voyages and travels, 119, 127, 239, 250

Vulcan, xxxv, 52, 153

Weinberger, Jerry, vii

Whewell, William, xxviii–xxx, xxxiv

Whitgift, John, vi

Whitney, Charles, xvii

Wilkins, John, xxii

winemaking, 120, 204, 264, 268

Wisdom of the Ancients, ix, xi, xiv, xxv

wisdom

divine, xvi, 30, 110

of Greece, 111

lost, xxi, 1, 86, 239

wits, levelling of, xix, xx, 103, 142

works, 69, 71, 114, 139, 217

as goal, xiii, xvi, xxx, 75, 77, 81, 84, 90, 107, 110, 117, 132, 181, 185–88, 196, 267

as pledges of truth, xvi, 112, 113, 143, 150

rules for, 149–52, 171, 214

Xenophanes, 211

Xenophon, 10, 22, 43–44

Zagorin, Perez, vi

Zeno, 111, 211

Zenophanes, 111