THE RIGHTE HONOURABLE
&' Iratwns Bacon, knigljt.
LORDE HIGHE CHANCELLOVR OF ENGLANDE, and one of his Mal!i? most ban— privie counsel!.
literature £>erie$
E ESSAYS
OF FRANCIS BACON
EDITED WITH INTRODUCTION AND NOTES
BY
CLARK SUTHERLAND NORTHUP, Pn.D
Assistant Professor of the English Language and Literature in Cornell University
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CONTENTS
PREFACE • v
INTRODUCTION
The Life of Bacon ....... VH
The Essays xxii
M Bibliographical Note xxvii
Chronological Table xxviii
ESSAYS 1
i/ v*T Of Truth " 5.
^-2. Of Death - 7*
I/ 3. Of Unity in Religion " 10
o 4. Of Revenge . ' . . . . . . .15
5. Of Adversity •» 16
I'o 6. Of Simulation and Dissimulation .... 18
^''7. Of Parents and Children 21
.'• a Of Marriage and Single Life 1 . . 23
9. Of Envy • . 25
- 10. Of Love 30
oil. Of Great Place 32
"12. OT Boldness 36
13. Of Goodness and Goodness of Nature . . 38
_14. Of Nobility ........ 41
T5. Of Seditions and Troubles 43
1/-16. Of Atheism' 51
. 17. Of Superstition 54
18. Of Travel 56
-19^ Of Empire , 58
.IP. Of Counsel' 64
i^81.,Of Delays , 69
22. Of Cunning .70
23. Of Wisdom for a Man's Self .... 74 24.Df Innovations 76
25. Of Dispatch 77
26. Of Seeming Wise 79
o If. Of Friendship 81
1V CONTENTS
28. Of Expense 89
,/29. Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms and Estates . 90
. 3ft Of Regiment of Health . ... 101
31. Of Suspicion 103
32. Of Discourse 104
33. Of Plantations . , 106
*34. Of Riches 110
S3. Of Prophecies 113
Of Ambition 117-
37. Of Masques and Triumphs 119
f. Of Nature in Men 121
. Of Custom and Education 123
4£. Of Fortune 125
41. Of Usury 127
V42. Of Yduth and Age 131
43. Of Beauty . 134'
44. Of Deformity . .. 135
45. Of Building .. 136
^ 46. Of Gardens . 141
47. Of Negotiating 148
^48. Of Followers and Friends 150
49. Of Suitors 152
•*" .50. Of Studies 154 -
51. Of Faction 156
r 52. Of Ceremonies and Respects 158
58. Of Praise 159
/_54. Of Vain-Glory 161
J>5. Of Honor and Reputation 163
.£6. Of Judicature 165
57. Of Anger 170
58. Of Vicissitude of Things 172
59. Of Fame: a Fragment 179
NOTES igi
SUGGESTIONS for the Study of the Essays .... 226
V
PREFACE
THE text of this edition of Bacon's Essays is based on that of Spedding, carefully collated with Arber's, and con stantly compared with the texts of Wright and Reynolda The spelling and capitalization have been more thoroughly modernized than in most other texts, though some familiar archaic spellings have been kept ; and the punctuation has been somewhat simplified. In the majority of instances I have retained Spedding's virile translations of the quotations from foreign languages. In writing on the vexed question of Bacon's character, I have been much indebted, as every careful student of Bacon will always be, to the epoch making researches of Spedding, who, while unconsciously minimizing, perhaps, the significance of some unpleasant facts, has given us on the whole the justest narrative of Bacon's life that we have. In the notes, while assuming that the student will have access to a good unabridged dic tionary, I have nevertheless kept in mind the fact that for many large classes there are not reference books enough to go around, and hence students must rely largely upon the notes for explanations of all kinds of difficulties. My con stant indebtedness to the commentators mentioned above, as well as to Dr. Abbott, will be evident, and I acknowledge it with gratitude. I must also record my obligation to my colleague, Professor William Strunk, Jr., for the use of notes generously proffered, and to the authorities of the Harvard University Library for the loan of Holland's Plu
tarch.
C. S. N CORNELL UNIVERSITY, ITHACA, N. Y.,
October, 1907.
INTRODUCTION
THE LIFE OF BACON
THE life of Francis Bacon is one of the most interesting, picturesque, and pathetically tragic in the whole range of literary history. He was born for great things ; he had a brilliant public career, which came to a startling and igno minious end. Withal his devotion to science and letters was such that the world will not soon forget it. So great and ver satile was his genius that he not only has been called the Shakespeare of English prose, but has also (though on wholly inadequate grounds) been regarded by some as the author of Shakespeare's plays. The story of so eventful a life cannot well be told in the space at our command ; we must be content with the leading facts and a few general observations.
Francis Bacon was born at York House, in the Strand, London, January 22, 1561. He was the youngest of the eight children of Sir Nicholas Bacon, Lord Bacon,s Keeper of the Great Seal, who was of a good- birth, 1661, natured, easy-going temperament and something «"* parent- of a humorist. The second wife of Sir Nicholas, and the mother of Anthony and Francis Bacon, was Ann, second daughter of Sir Anthony Cooke ; her sister was the wife of Sir William Cecil, then Secretary of State, and later Lord Burghley. Lady Bacon was a well-educated woman of strong character. She translated sermons from the Italian, quoted Latin frequently, and knew something of Greek. A rigid Calvinist, she exerted a marked influence on her sons' religious beliefs ; and one clue to the explanation of Francis Bacon's character is perhaps the fact that in early youth, frequenting a court where lax moral and ethical views prevailed, he was at the same time filled with the self-assurance born of the Calvinistic doctrine of election to eternal happiness.
Vlll
INTRODUCTION
In his twelfth year, in 1573, Francis Bacon went his brother Anthony to Trinity College, Cambridge. Here he found not quite eighteen hundred students, among them Edward Coke, his later rival, Edmund Spenser and his friend Edward Kirke, and Gabriel Harvey ; many of these were too young to know why they were there. His prescribed studies Education were mathematics (including cosmography, ari th at Trinity metic, geometry, and astronomy), dialectics, phi- CamMdge, losophy, perspective, and Greek. In public, ex-. 1573-74 ' cept in hours of leisure, he had to speak Hebrew, Greek, or Latin. While devoting himself to Greek, he re belled against the doctrines of Aristotle, whose infallibility had been somewhat shaken by Peter Ramus (1515-1572) a decade before; but it was not so much Aristotle's logical method as his physical theories that Bacon questioned. For example, Aristotle's theory of astronomy was based on the fundamental proposition that the heavens and heavenly bodies were incorruptible, unchangeable, and wholly regular; hence all the motions of these bodies must be in the per fect figure of the circle and all their orbits must be concen tric ; moreover, the four elements, earth, air, fire, and water, being perishable, the imperishable stars must be made of an imperishable fifth essence. These doctrines of Aristotle the Schoolmen of the Middle Ages, especially Thomas Aquinas (1225-1274), so systematized and fixed that they virtually became great obstructions to the progress of knowledge. But even as a boy of eleven Bacon saw in the northern heavens, in a region that Aristotle had pro nounced incapable of change, the wonderful new star in the constellation Cassiopeia. No wonder the study of nature through Aristotle's dogmas struck Bacon as barren and wrong, and moved him to devise a more fruitful method. The remarkable thing, as Mr. Spedding points out, is that this undertaking became the real if not wholly absorbing passion of his life.
The plague which broke out in August, 1574, drove the Bacons from Cambridge until the foilowing March ; then they returned and remained until Christmas.
In June. 1576, the brothers were admitted to Gray's Inn,
INTRODUCTION ix
London, and began the study of law. Three months later Francis went with Sir Amias Paulet, the British Begins the ambassador, to France. Here he remained dur- "tudyol ing two and a half significant years, studying diplomatic affairs and foreign policy. The impression he made upon those who talked with him is indi- Twoyeara cated by the inscription on Hilliard's miniature, in France, painted in 1578: "If a worthy canvas were 1676-78 given me, I would rather paint his mind." From this life of studious ease he was rudely awakened by the death of his father, which obliged him to return to England ; and as Sir Nicholas had failed to provide for his youngest son, Francis was now compelled to begin in earnest his prepara tion for the legal profession, by which he was to live.
In June, 1582, he was admitted an utter (or junior) barrister of Gray's Inn ; and November 23, 1584, he took his seat in Parliament for Melcombe Regis, Dor- M p Jw setshire. That he was a bold as well as alert Melcombe politician is evident from his Advice to Queen Regis, Elizabeth, written soon after entering Parliament. The^conflict was approaching between Protestant England and Catholic Spain. Three plots had already been exposed against the life of the Qneen, in whom were centred the hopes "of England, of liberty, and of the Pro- "Advice to testant faith ; " and a voluntary association had Queen Eliz- been formed to prosecute to the death any person al)etn" in whose behalf violence should be offered to the Sovereign. Bacon urged rigorous repression of the suspected Catholics, but less violent measures against the Puritans. The trea tise is remarkable for shrewdness, wit, and tact.
Two years later, in 1586, came the trial and conviction of Mary, Queen of Scots. In the Parliament of that year Bacon sat for Taunton, Somersetshire, and was ^. P. lor one of those who signed the petition for Mary's Taunton, execution. Becoming a bencher of Gray's Inn, 158( Bneon now attained the full rights of a practising lawyer. "While he did not earn much as a barrister, he became more and more prominent in Parliament.
The Aruiadu came and went ; and in the following year
x INTRODUCTION
the quarrel between the Puritans and the High Churchmen was renewed. In his Advertisement touching ustment *he Controversies of the Church of England touching (1589), Bacon sought to arbitrate the bitter and the Contro- bigoted conflict by considering the occasions of the Otaxoh th® controversies, their growth, the unjust mea- of Bug- sures of the bishops, and the separatist tenden- Ulld'" cies of the Puritans ; prescribing, as the remedy, greater charity and more knowledge, or, as Mat thew Arnold would have put it, more " sweetness and light."
, About 1590 Bacon made the acquaintance of the Earl of Essex, the rash, impetuous, generous, sympathetic favor- Beginning ite of the Queen. Here was a man whose frieud- of friend- g^jp C0uld do much for Bacon and for the great Essex!"" philosophical enterprise which he had begun to 1590 ' think of in his Cambridge days. Essex was able and ready to discuss the high aimsjthat inspired Bacon, and to intercede for him with the Queen for some office whereby he might be freed from professional drudgery and enabled to prosecute his studies. In asking Lord Burghley for help, about this time, Bacon says : —
"Lastly, I confess that I have as vast contemplative ends, as I have moderate civil ends: for I have taken all knowledge to be my province ; and if I could purge it of two sorts of rovers, whereof the one with frivolous disputations, confutations, and verbosities, the other with blind experiments and auricular tra ditions and impostures, hath committed so many spoils, I hope I should bring in industrious observations, grounded conclusions, and profitable inventions and discoveries ; the best state in that province. This, whether it be curiosity, or vain-glory, or nature, or (if one take it favorably) philanthropic^, is so fixed in my mind as it cannot be removed."
But while Bacon's repeated requests to Burghley were Failure to poured into a deaf ear, Essex proved an ardent ana obtain of- faithful patron. The place of Attorney-General torney-Gen- soon ^ecame vacant; and Essex tried to secure oral and it for his friend. But Bacon had made himself Solicitor obnoxious to the Queen by protesting against cer tain subsidies which he thought would involve excessive
INTRODUCTION xi
taxation ; and his rival Coke was made Attorney-General. No better fortune attended his suit for the humbler office of Solicitor ; but Essex, anxious to pay for the time and pains devoted to his own affairs, gave Bacon a piece of land which afterwards sold for £1800, the equivalent in purchasing power of about $45,000 to-day. This for a while relieved Bacon of the financial embarrassments which beset him.
Up to this time of his life Bacon is not accused of doing anything distinctly dishonorable. True, his servile place- hunting is not admirable ; but it arose partly out of unfor tunate conditions. His conduct toward Essex from now on is variously interpreted : by some, as that of a patriot who placed loyalty to the state above friendship; by others, as the conduct of a heartless ingrate. Much depends on whether Essex can or cannot be proved to have become a traitor.
Essex and Bacon continued friends as before ; but Bacon ceased for a time to seek for office. He wrote his Maxims of the Law (published in January, 1596), his works from Essays, Colors of Good and Evil, and Medi- "96 to tationes Sacra?, all of which appeared in 1597. clndl^g He still sat in Parliament, in 1597 for South- "Essays," ampton. He was an unsuccessful suitor for the 1697 hand of a rich widow, his cousin Lady Hatton, who ac cepted his rival Coke instead. Meanwhile he counselled Essex to try to win and retain the Queen's M P lor favor by making a show of being deferential and Southamp- obsequious. But Essex was not skilled in dis- ton' 1597 simulation; he quarrelled more than once with Elizabeth, and on one occasion his insolence so enraged her that she struck him and had him ejected from the coun- Quarrel cil-chamber. A few months later, acting on Ba- between con's advice, he pretended that he would accept JjJJ" Jjj the task of quelling the Irish rebellion under the Earl of Tyrone. Of this expedition Essex made a wretched failure ; and he was ordered to answer for his mismanagement and for disobedience, in the Court of the Star Chamber. Although soon released, he continued under the displea sure of the Queen, who refused to renew the grant of the
xii INTRODUCTION
monopoly of sweet wines whence he derived most of his income. Already deeply in debt, Essex now saw himself on the brink of ruin ; and having persuaded himself that England's safety and his own lay in ruining his rivals, the Queen's present advisers, he plotted to surprise the court and remove them by force. The revolt miscarried and Essex was tried for treason.
As one of the Learned Counsel Bacon now occupied a subordinate, unsalaried place in the Government. He has been censured because, when called upon to participate in Essex tried the trial, he did not decline ; but Essex was not lor treason yet condemned, and Bacon doubtless thought he could help his friend.? For ten days the trial went on without results ; finally the confession of accomplices re vealed deliberate treasonable action on the part of Essex and his confederates. It was then too late for Bacon to decline his task ; and he now set the claims of loyal cit izenship above those of friendship ; the general good above Bacon's private good. He pressed the charge of treason part in tie for « this late and horrible rebellion," and rightly condemna- , _
tionoi treated Essex s defence, that he was protecting
Essex himself from his enemies, as a mere afterthought. The result was the conviction of Essex and four of his followers. Even then, Bacon declared in his Apology (1601), he besought mercy of the Queen and tried to ex tenuate the sentence. But his effort was in vain. On Feb ruary 26, 1601, Essex was executed.
It is idle to see in all this, as some do, a treacherous desertion of Essex. As Professor Gardiner suggests, doubt less Bacon had a poverty of moral feeling ; certainly he nowhere records any pain at having to help prosecute his friend. But two things must be borne in mind : first, Bacon had himself rendered valuable services to Essex and was under no obligation to him ; second, Essex's crime seems less heinous in these days of political security than it seemed in Elizabeth's day, when the welfare of the state so largely depended on the safety of the sovereign.
Under Elizabeth, Bacon never obtained an office worthy of his abilities. For a time he was but little more success..
INTRODUCTION xiii
ful with thf new sovereign. True, James honored him with knighthood ; but he was dubbed along with some three hundred others. For a time Bacon lived in „_. retirement. He now wrote the first book of The vancement Advancement of Learning as well as the brief oiLeara- " Proem " to The Interpretation of Nature, in tag>" 1605 which he sets forth his real mission and motives. He had set himself, he says, to consider how mankind might best be served and what he was naturally best fitted to do. Of all benefits he " found none so great as the discovery of new arts, endowments, and commodities for the bettering of man's life." But if one could kindle in Nature a light that should presently disclose her most hidden secrets, that man would indeed benefit the race. He found himself best fitted for the study of truth, " with desire to seek, patience to doubt, fondness to meditate, slowness to assert, readiness to reconsider, carefulness to dispose and set in order." Yet his birth and education had seasoned him in business of state ; his country had special claims upon him ; and believing that if he rose in the state he should Bacon's de- command industry and ability to help him in his v°ti<mto work, he had entered public life. In this he had, JU^*1' too, another motive, that he " might get some- search thing done for the good of men's souls." Finding, however, that his zeal was mistaken for ambition, that his life had already reached the turning-point, and that he was leaving undone the good he alone could do, he put aside all thoughts of statecraft and betook himself wholly to this work.
But Bacon was still destined for many years to live the life of a statesman rather than of a philosopher. When the first Parliament under King James met in March, 1604, he returned to public life. In the contest between the
Commons and the King over some matters of ,
,. , i •!/• 11 i i , , Bacon made
prerogative, he skilfully led both parties to a Learned
compromise. In August the King granted to Counsel, him by patent the office of Learned Counsel, 1604 and at the same time conferred on him an annual life- pension of £60.
The interval between December, 1604, and the next meet-
XIV
INTRODUCTION
ing of Parliament in November, 1605, eiiabled Bacon "The AO- to complete his Two Books of the Profioience vancement an^ Advancement of Learning. He dedicated Sg/VEto. it to the King, hoping thereby to interest James LII;1605 (whom he avouches to be "the learnedst king that hath reigned ") in his great intellectual enterprises ; but James, unfortunately, was busy with other affairs. Probably the book would have made more of a stir in the London world had it not appeared at the time of the in famous Gunpowder Plot, which overshadowed everything else. That it was an important book will be evident from the following words of Dean Church : —
" The Advancement was the first of a long line of books which have attempted to teach English readers how to think of know ledge ; to make it really and intelligently the interest, not of the school or the study or the laboratory only, but of society at large. It was a book with a purpose, new then, but of which we have seen the fulfilment. He wanted'to impress on his generation, as a very practical matter, all that knowledge might do in wise hands, all that knowledge had lost by the faults and errors of men and the misfortunes of time, all that knowledge might be pushed to in all directions by faithful and patient industry and well-planned methods for the elevation and benefit of man in his highest capacities as well as in his humblest. And he further sought to teach them Iww to know ; to make them understand that difficult achievement of self-knowledge, to know what it i» to know ; to give the first attempted chart to guide them among the shallows and rocks and whirlpools which beset the course and action of thought and inquiry."
On May 10, 1606, Sir Francis Bacon married Alice Barn- Marriage, ham, the " handsome daughter" of a London
alderman and sheriff. Continuing to sue for pre ferment, he was at length successful. In June, 1607, he Bacon made Became Solicitor-General, receiving an annual Solicitor- salary of £1000. A year later the office of Clerk JJJ"*1' of the Star Chamber, the reversion of which had
been promised him nineteen years before, fell vacant; the additional salary brought Bacon's income up to Clerk of the nearly $25,000 a year (£4975). An interesting Star Cham- document which has come down to us from this
time, the Miscellaneous Commentary, reveals
INTRODUCTION xv
much as to his secret thoughts and amhitions. His philo sophical work has the chief place. He plans to inquire into the kinds of motion ; to write a history of marvels, and a history of progress in the mechanical arts ; to secure the foundation of a college for inventors. As a statesman and public servant he meditates much on the welfare Bacon.8 of Britain ; on the problem of replenishing the ambitions coffers of the spendthrift King without further «« England alienating the people and bringing on civil war ; on confed eration with the Low Countries ; on reforms limiting the jurisdiction of courts of justice ; on making and codifying new laws ; on restoring " the Church to the true limits of authority since Henry 8th's confusion ; " in short, on mak ing Britain a real " Monarchy in the West," a power in European affairs. Truly these were great ends. Though constantly seeking office, Bacon was none the less a patriot.
And England needed the loyal services of her sons. The struggle was beginning between King and Commons. "The great and pressing subject of the time," says Mr. Church, "was the increasing difficulties of the revenue, created partly by the inevitable changes of a growing state, but much more by the King's incorrigible waste- Bacon.spo. fulness." By 1608 James was running behind sitioninthe £83,000 a year and was a million pounds in debt. {Jjjjjj ^ The Earl of Salisbury, Bacon's cousin, who now Klng and became Lord Treasurer, proposed that the Com- the Com mons should, by paying a fixed sum annually to mons the King, secure relief from certain burdens incident to the exercise of the royal prerogative. But after a good deal of haggling over terms, the "Great Contract" came to no thing. Bacon on the one hand defended as legal the King's claim of the right to levy custom duties on merchandize, and on the other tried to persuade the Commons to content themselves with restraining and limiting this right. But the breach was already too wide to be closed by any one man.
Bacon's literary activity kept pace with his energetic public life. His great philosophical scheme was constantly in his mind. In 1608 he wrote Heat and Cold and A
xvi INTRODUCTION
History of Sound and Hearing, and probably began his Novum Organum, which he was not to publish for twelve years. The next year he sent to Bishop Andrewes a revised Minor COPV of nis Thoughts and Judgments on the In- works, terpretation of Nature, which he had written
ZdinV S0me two years before 5 and to Tobv Matthew his anewedi- Wisdom of the Ancients. In this he attempted tionof the^ an allegorical treatment of the Greek myths and fables, in which he thought there "lay enshrined physical discoveries and political mysteries." An enlarged edition of the Essays appeared in 1612. In the same year he wrote his Description of the Intellectual Globe, an ac count of astronomy, and his Theme of Heaven, its sequel in which, ignoring Kepler's researches, he denied not only the density and solidity, but also the revolution, of the earth! He had too little time or inclination for patient study before writing.
Upon the death of Salisbury in 1612, Bacon came into greater favor with the King. In 1613 he became Attorney
IZneT9 a1' 3nd n°W took a raore Prominent part
General by "J sfcate affairs- He delivered before the Star James, Chamber an earnest argument against duelling, which had become alarmingly prevalent He * Parli "
trou • n' °Ug U Va'n' '° P
thorough revision and codification of the laws
this period, though tradition has assigned it to the -st years of hls life probably belongs The Neu, *££ "TneNew an unfinished romance recalling the imaginary Jgjtn/. commonwealth of Plato's Crtiias, and describing nature » *?£?* 7 ^ mstitution "for the interpreting of
INTRODUCTION
XV 11
had its share in leading to the establishment of the Royal Society (1660)^ U v Kc t * W ^ b H b c S
Bacon cor^ktued to give King James constant proofs of his usefulness; and when Viscount Brackley resigned Bacon the chancellorship in 1617, Bacon succeeded to the made Lord oflice, once held by his father, of Lord Keeperof the ^^°'' Great Seal. On January 1, 161 8, he was forma 11 y Lort? '' created Lord Chancellor for life, with an increase Cnarceiiar. of £600 a year over his salary as Lord Keej-er. ^uST Six months later he became Baron Venilam. 1618
Constantly mindful of his great intellectual ends, Bacon devoted the long vacations to the studies nearest his heart. In October, 1620, he presented King James with his Novum Organum or "New Instrument," WBM. by which he desired " to make philosophy and 162° sciences both more true and more active." The book, not withstanding Bacon had " been about some such work near thirty years," and had composed the first draft about 1608, was incomplete; but the author had begun to numl>er his days, " and would have it saved." The great object he sought to achieve was to teach men to invent or discover and judge by induction, as finding syllogistic or deductive rea soning " incompetent for sciences of nature." The King received the book with expressions of but moderate praise, and even permitted himself the jest that it was "like the peace of God, which passeth all understanding." To Bacon's plea for aid in making collections for a Natural and Ex perimental History, James was deaf.
The Novum, Organum was to form the second part of a great work which Bacon called Magna Instauratio, " The Great Restoration," and which was to consist of the fol lowing parts : 1. The Divisions of the Sciences, a general survey of the state of knowledge at that time. 2. The New Instrument. 3. The Phenomena of the Universe, Bacon's considered as materials on which the new method pLm for was to be employed. 4. The Ladder of the Un- ^^^ derstanding, giving illustrations of the working ratio" of the new method. 5. Forerunners of the Second Philo sophy, containing such discoveries as Bacon had made with-
XV111
INTRODUCTION
out the aid of the new method, the conclusions being merely tentative. 6. The Second Philosophy or Active Science, to contain some results of the application of the new method to phenomena. Of these parts only the second and a part of the third (published also in 1620 and entitled Prepara tion for a Natural and Experimental History) appeared. The conception was indeed a noble one, but was even then too vast for one man. Scientists value Bacon less for his achievement than for his inspiration. He himself said, in deed, u I only sound the clarion ; but I enter not the battle." X
Notwithstanding his flippant reception of the Novum Organum, the King was not unmindful of the value of Blade Vis- Bacon's services, and in January, 1621, created conntst him Viscount St. Alban. Bacon was now at the Attan>1621 pinnacle of his fame. A peer of the realm, he held the highest legal office in the kingdom, with an annual income of probably £10,000. Ben Jonson wrote of him as
"England's High Chancellor, the destin'd heir, In his soft cradle, to his father's chair; Whose even thread the Fates spin round and full Out of their choicest and their whitest wool."
Yet in the struggle for advancement Bacon's moral fibre, never robust, was weakened. The King was more than ever under the influence of a favorite — the infamous George Villiers, Duke of Buckingham ; and to keep in the favor of both James and Buckingham and at the same time preserve a high moral integrity was to serve both God and Mammon. " There is rarely any rising," says Bacon in his Essay of Nobility, ' but by a commixture of good and evil arts." Bacon well understood both kinds.
Yet Bacon's chief fault was, perhaps, that he fell in too »•£. readily with what were common practices of the day, dis- •.,.,. daining to protest over much against trifles. Every one A accepted bribes, from the Favorite down ; and Bacon not scruple to accept gifts from persons whose suits were pending. There is no absolute proof that these presents affected his judicial decisions ; but he had not avoided the appearance of evil, and his enemies made the most of the advantage this gave them.
INTRODUCTION xix
Sir Edward Coke, Bacon's old rival, who had not been in the House for some years, was returned to the Parlia ment that met on January 30, 1621. On February 5 he moved the appointment of a committee to investigate public grievances. Certain objectionable monopolies were at once
brought to the attention of the committee ; and .
The Indict- in March the King in a speech alleged that in ment
granting these patents "he grounded his judg- against ment upon others who had misled him" — of whom Bacon was one. On March 14 a petitioner to the House of Commons alleged that two and a half years be fore the Lord Chancellor had received money from him for the despatch of a pending suit ; other similar accusations followed. At first Bacon defended himself, saying to the King : —
"For the briberies and gifts wherewith I am charged, when the books of hearts shall be opened, I hope I shall not be found to have the troubled fountain of a corrupt heart, in a depraved habit of taking rewards to prevent justice; howsoever I may be frail, and partake of the abuses of the times."
f5ut when the twenty-three articles of the charge as finally formulated were laid before him, Bacon, Bacon's now in shattered health, attempted no further coniesslxm defence, but confessed himself guilty of corruption. In his memoranda on the matter he writes : —
"There be three degrees or cases, as I conceive, of gifts or re wards given to a judge. The first is of bargain, contract, or pro mise of reward, pendente lite [the suit pending]. And of this my heajt tells me I am innocent ; that I had no bribe or reward in my eye or thought when I pronounced any sentence or order. The second is a neglect in the judge to inform himself whether the cause be fully at an end, or no, what time he receives the gift; but takes it upon the credit of the party that all is done, or other wise omits to inquire. And the third is, when it is received sine fraude [without fraud], after the cause ended ; which it seems, by the opinions of the civilians, is no offence." Elsewhere he adds: "For the second, I doubt in some particulars I may be faulty. And for the last, I conceived it to be no fault."
Parliament decreed that he should pay a fine of £40,000, be imprisoned in the Tower during the King's pleasure,
xx INTRODUCTION
be thenceforth incapable of holding office or sitting m Pallia-: Bacon's monfr, and not be allowed to come within twelve* <i v \, sentence miles of the court; thus insisting that public officers were responsible to the state as well as to King. Bacon acquiesced ; "I was the justest judge," said he, "that was in England these fifty years; but it was the justest censure in Parliament that was these two hun dred years." He was confined in the Tower only two or three days ; and in September his fine was remitted and assigned to trustees for his benefit. In a few months, hav ing yielded up York House to Cranfield and Buckingham, he was once more allowed to live in London. But he could never procure a full pardon.
The years that remained to Bacon were spent at Gray's Inn and Gorhambury, in retirement and in literary labors. In 1622 he published his History of Henry VII, the first English attempt at philosophical history, which workDe- takes high rank as a classic; he also wrote a frag- tweeni622 ment of an Advertisement Touching an Holy War — a war which Bacon apparently desired
to be waged against the Turks. In the following year he wrote A History of Life and Death, which received the commendation of Haller, a great medical writer; and pub- lished a much expanded Latin translation of The Advance- Thirdedi- ment °f Learning. His Apophthegms and Trans- tionoltne lations of Certain Psalms appeared in 1624; "Essays," and in the following year he published the third
edition of his Essays. The last work upon which he was engaged was his Sylva Sylvarum, " Wood of Woods," or "Natural History," which was published in 1627. fine <*+*
Toward the end of March, 1626, in the course of a journey from London to Highgate, Bacon desired to experi- Bacon's ment on the effect of snow in preserving flesh. iS?' He Purchased a fowl and stuffed it with snow;
a chill seized him and forced him to stop at Lord Arundel's house* Here, on April 9, he died. He was buried in St. Michael's Church, St. Albans.
Thus ended the career of a man of genius; a life of great achievements in statecraft and in philosophy, a life
Ve PoretAto Stop
INTRODUCTION xxi
characterized, however, by such apparent inconsistencies that Pope could describe Bacon as " the wisest, brightest, meanest of mankind ; " and to this description some recent writers have rather too closely conformed. He has been condemned for the basest ingratitude to Essex, for the most fawning and unblushing flattery and sycophancy, for delib erately perverting justice to please the Favorite. His chief energy, it is said, was given to a shameless scram- conilict- wealth and osition and ower which togjudg-
ble for wealth and position and power, which utterly belies his expressions of devotion to science Bacon's and philosophy. This view of Bacon, however, character is hardly consistent with the genuine affection expressed by friends such as Dr. Rawley, his chaplain, Peter Boener, his apothecary and secretary, and Sir Toby Matthew, to whom Bacon dedicated his Essay of Friendship; or with all of the facts which Bacon himself so frankly committed to paper. The unselfish labors of some modern scholars, chief of whom is James Spedding, have done much to re store to Bacon the reputation that is rightfully his.
To judge Bacon justly, we must bear in mind the cir cumstances of his times. We have already considered the Essex affair. As for indulging in flattery, Bacon Oonsl(lera. doubtless did so to excess ; yet we must bear in tions de- mind that good form then required some flattery, manded by The proof that he perverted justice is not forth coming ; the most that can be said is that in one instance only, the case of Dr. Steward and his nephew,1 there is a reasonable inference that at Buckingham's request Bacon reversed a decision with the possible result that justice was thwarted. When we remember how frequently Bucking ham tried to induce Bacon to be partial to certain persons, we can only commend Bacon for his constancy, suspending judgment further until all the facts of the case in question are brought to light. That Bacon was too fond of pomp a'nl circumstance and wealth is probably true ; that he was excessively extravagant and wasteful is too evident from his extant financial records. He was careless about debts; he
1 See Spodding, Letters and Life, vi, 441-440, vii, 579-588; abridged Life, ii, 276-278; Abbott, Bacon, xviii-xxix, 268, 269.
xxii INTRODUCTION
died owing three times the value of his estate, but in the belief that there would be "a good round surplusage." He was doubtless indifferent, moreover, to high ethical stand ards and to the impression made by his own conduct ; he was too often plastic in the hands of unscrupulous men ; yet it has been pointed out more than once that Bacon might have advanced more rapidly had he shaped his course differ-
PTltlv O*^ 3- i *• , H » /4;lt_ J.L J J 7
v ' J^eOtol'\TQ0o &0 X V
All things considered, Bacon may be described as a great statesman, to whom politics were not wholly congenial, but who faithfully served his country and his king even though Final esti- his policies could not always be carried into exe cution; as a great natural philosopher, whose passionate devotion to the advancement of science was a religion, and who, though indifferent to the importance of contemporary discoveries which he should have recognized levertheless gave a great impetus to the method of induc tion, on which all modern science is based; and as a man who in the school of expftrionre learned some of the great essons of life, and who, chastened by adversity, furnished a memorable example to all of virtue, kindness, peaceful-
s ^atr?-:; Witv» ^ f.uite ne £ nLave,;.
ell on evil days ; and in
" His life was gentle, and the elements So mixed in him that Nature might stand up And say to all the world, This was a man!" "H<e is -bU
THE ESSAYS
t'
INTRODUCTION
xxm
" I would have in short all topics which there is frequent oc casion to handle (whether they relate to proofs and refutations, or to persuasions and dissuasions, or to praise and blama) stud ied and prepared beforehand ; and not only so, but the case ex aggerated both ways with the utmost force of the wit, and urged unfairly, as it were, and quite beyond the truth. And the best way of making such a collection, with a view to use as well as brevity, would be to contract those commonplaces into certain acute and concise sentences ; to be as skeins or bottoms of thread which may be un winded at large when they are wanted."
As a specimen of these Antitheses, may be given no. xli, Delay, which should be compared with Essay xxi :
DELAY
For
Fortune sells many things to him that is in a hurry, which she gives to him that waits.
While we hasten to take hold of the beginnings of things, we grasp shadows.
While things are wavering, watch ; when they have taken ^h|ir direction, act. Mpommit the beginnings of ac tions to Argus, the end to Bri- STeus.
Against
Opportunity offers the handle of the bottle first, and after wards the belly. •
Opportunity is like the Sibyl: she raises the price as she di minishes the offer.
Speed is Pluto's helmet.
Things that are done betimes are done with judgment ; things that are put off too late, by cir cuit.
little study of these Antitheses and of the Essay in they receive literary dress will show what Bacon it by an essay. • It was to be literally an attempt, a (Latin exagium, "a weighing, balance"), an estimate' Fos and cons, a debate which should determine the prac- worth of motives and qualities and characters. The had recently been used by Montaigne, whose Essays ired in 1580. " The word," says Bacon, in the can- dedication to Prince Henry, " is late, but the thing is Int. For Seneco's Epistles to Lucilius, if one mark well, are but essays, — that is, dispersed meditations,
conveyed in the form of epistles." -" ms the Essays were to constitute a series of useful Ivations on life and character ; a handbook of the most
xxiv INTRODUCTION
practical wisdom, which should " come home to men's busi- " ness and bosoms." Human nature was to be dealt with, not as it ought to be or might become, but as it was. To act wisely men must have "a knowledge of both good and evil arts, that they might use the former and shun the latter. Bacon does not invariably counsel us to shun the evil arts; if one would work a man. one must know his defects as well as his virtues; and there are times when Bacon justi fies dissimulation and falsehood. Moreover, there is a too constant reference to self-interest for our approval to-day. -»• Yet with these exceptions the morality of the Essays is on the whole healthy.
In the ten Assays of the first edition (see below) the style is simple and concise to the last degree. Indifferent to literary finish, the author is bent on applying a homely — • / common sense to some every-day problems. TfW mood of / exalted style is out of the question. In the second edition a distinctly higher level is reached, both in the character of the new subjects treated and in the style. The consider ation of such subjects as goodness, beauty, empire, death, and the greatness of kingdoms could not fail to elevate tl;j thought and perhaps induce a statelier and more measm style. In the third edition the practical point of view still maintained ; but Bacon occasionally rises to philosop] heights, as when he speaks of the inquiry, knowledge, belief of truth as the sovereign good of human natim when he remarks that "adversity doth best discover virt Let-us now glance at the method of the Essays. outline of Essay xxi (see above) may run as follows
OF DELAYS
a. Sometimes by waiting, you get a lower price. x. Again, you pay more dearly. b Failing to take Occasion by the forelock, we can hold.
c. There is no greater wisdom than knowing when to , tter meet dangers half way than watch too long. y. But to shoot too soon is another extreme. «. Success depends first upon secrecy in counsel; z. then upon quickness in execution.
INTRODUCTION xxv
From this it will appear that Bacon does not 'attempt to arrange his material, but weaves together his antitheses in pairs much as points are developed in a debate. There is rarely a formal introduction, and only in the longer Es says (cf. iii, vi, ix, xiv, xv, xix, xx, fitc.) does he give evi dence of care in planning; we cannot infer, however, that Bacon did not always arrange his heads carefully. He is fond of quoting from his favorite, historians and moralists, Plutarch, Pliny, Tacitus, Suetonius, Dion Cassius, Cicero, Erasmus — usually from memory, sometimes so inaccurately that some have concluded he was trying to improve their expression. A conclusion that summarizes does not often occur ;. the shortuesf of most of the Essays renders this un-
cessary.
Bacon's pojnt of view in general is that of the patriotic supporter of ^-limited monarchy. For him the best form of ' government was that of an intelligent king, whose power should be attempered by nobles not too great. From such a government a much more enlightened rule might be ex pected than from the as yet crude and unorganized Com mons, meeting irregularly and unaccustomed to power; and Bacon saw no reason to favor the extension of the people's powers. At the same time, though "a peremptory royalist," Bacon supported a policy of conciliation and wished to see the people contented and prosperous. He opposed excessive taxation, since a people burdened with taxes could never " become valiant and martial." He favored the protection of infant industries and the regulation of waste and excess through sumptuary laws. In general he opposed monopo lies. He believed that the wealth of the state should not be gathered into a few hands. He strongly urged the plank ing of colonies and a generous colonial policy.
His foreign policy was not so enlightened. War, he be lieved, was as essential to national health as exercise to the body. No nation could be great that was not ready, when the time came, with a pretext for war. The character of the soldiery, however, was more important than its num bers. Men downtrodden by evil legislation, as well as mercenaries, made poor soldiers. A large standing army,
INTRODUCTION
bein" a possible internal menace, was not so desirable as an efficient navy. Bacon warmly favored the union of ] land and Scotland, if only for strategic reasons ; commer also demanded it. On account of trade and commerce he likewise desired friendly relations with Holland.
On matters of religion and theology Bacon expresses him self less freely. Of religion he says very little formally ; Es say iii is concerned mainly with religious politics, or church unity and harmony. A devout Christian, Bacon was yet very much of a man of the world, and had no disposition to confuse morality with religion. Elizabeth herself could lie unblushingly when policy demanded it ; yet she was the head and overseer of the Church. [Of the life to come, Bacon has no thoughts to record. He only knows that
Jk death is as natural as birth ; and he has a certain stoical fearlessness of what lies beyond.
So much for the subject-matter of the Essays. In th% form in which we read them Bacon thought little of them ; they were trifles that would last no longer than the ephem eral language in which they were written. To endure, he thought, they must be turned into Latin. Yet it is by the Essays, in English, that Bacon has long been best known ; and of all his writings they give the greatest promise of en durance. What is the reason for this? They are not infal lible ; most of them are out of date ; their moral and politi cal wisdom is sometimes frankly questioned. Their merit
1' lies in the serious and fruitful manner in which a great / mind has considered some familiar and some great problems of life, and has allowed us to follow his meditations. And / these meditations reflect both Bacon and his environment. For this reason they have taken their place among the classics of the world. For the thinker men have always had admiration and respect ; and the great mind of Francis Bacon was not the least important fruit of the English Renaissance.
INTRODUCTION xxvii
III
BIBLIOGRAPHICAL NOTE
The first edition of the Essays, published in 1597, con tained the following ten : L, xxxii. LII, XLVIII, XLIX, xxvin, xxx, LV, LI, and XLVII. The volume \vas dedi cated to Bacon's brother Anthony.
Between 1607 and 1612 was transcribed the draft known ns Harleian MS. 5106 (never published), now in the Brit ish Museum. This contained twenty-four more essays and was dedicated to Henry, Prince of Wales, who died Novem ber 3, 1612.
The second edition appeared in 1612. Omitting LV, it contained, in addition to the remaining nine, the following twenty-nine : xxvii, xxm, xiv, xin, XLIII, xxvi, xxxvi,
XXXIV, XXV, XLIV,.XLII, VIII, VII, XI, XIX, XX, XVI, XVII,
LI u, xxxvin, xxxix, XL, TI (all of which, with s^pie va riations, occur in Harl. MS. 5106) ; in, xxn, x, LVI, LIV, xxix. Prince Henry having died, this volume was dedi cated to Bacon's brother-in-law, Sir John Constable.
The third edition, 1625, contained nineteen new essays :
I, IV, V, VI, IX, XII, XVIII, XXI, XXIV, XXXI, XXXIII,
xxxv, xxxvn, XLI, XLV, XLVI, Lvii, Lviii. Essay xv, which occurs in Harl. MS. 5106, was now first published, and Essay LV was restored.
The Latin translation, though practically complete in 1625, was not published until 1638. It was edited by the Rev. William Rawley, Bacon's chaplain. Two Essays, LII and LIII, were omitted. Numerous additions and variations were made, some of which, as helping to explain Bacon's meaning, are indicated in the Notes.
The best of recent editions are those of Whately (1856), Wright (3d edition 1865), Abbott (7th edition 1886 ; the text is poor), aim Reynolds (Oxford, 1890, for intensive study indispensable). Edward Arber published in 1871 a valuable Harmony of the Essays.
The standard edition of Bacon's complete works is that of Spedding, Ellis, and Heath, London, 1857-62 (Boston,
xxviii INTRODUCTION
Hough ton, Mifflin and Company). The standard life of Bacon is the Letters and Life by Spedding, in seven vol umes (London, 1861-74). The best accessible biographies are Spedding's abridged Life, Boston, 1878, and Nichol's Francis Bacon, His Life and Philosophy (Philadelphia, 1888-89). The biographies by Church (English Men of Let- ters), 1884, and Abbott, 1885 (see, also, his Bacon and Essex, London, 1877), while valuable in many ways, are b* many considered unjust to Bacon's character. Macautay's superficial essay in The Edinburgh Review for July, 1337, was mercilessly probed by Spedding (Evenings with a Re viewer, London, 1881), and pronounced wholly untrust worthy. Consult further the articles by S. R. Gardiner and T. Fowler in The Dictionary of National Biography, 1885 ; Minto's Manual of English Prose Literature, 3d edition, 1886; Michael Macmillan's "Bacon's Moral Teach ing," Intern. Journal of Ethics, October, 1906. For ink' esting particulars of the times, see Hubert Hall's Society in the Elizabethan Age, London, 1886.
IV
CHRONOLOGICAL TABLE
1561. Francis Bacon born. 1564. Shakespeare and Galileo born. 1573. Bacon went to Cambridge. 1576. Bacon admitted to Gray's Inn. 1579. Spenser's Shepherd's Calendar.
Lyly's Euphues. 1580-81. Sidney's Arcadia and Apology for Poetrif
written. 1584. Bacon entered Parliament.
Letter of Advice to Queen Elizabeth.
1587. Execution of Mary Stuart. -
1588. Defeat of the Spanish Armada.
1589. Advertisement touching the Controversies of the Church of England.
1596. Maxims of the Law.
Shakespeare's Merchant of Venice.
INTRODUCTION xxix
Essays, first edition
Discovery of the thermometer. 1509. E^ex went to Ireland. 1601. Execution of Essex. 1003. Death of Elizabeth: accession of James I.
1604. Bacon made Learned Counsel.
1605. The Advancement of Learning, Bks. i, ii. The Gunpowder Plot.
1606. Bacon's marriage to Alice Barnham.
1607. Bacon became Solicitor-General.
L609-10. Galileo improved the telescope and discovered Jupiter's satellites.
1610. Kepler's astronomical laws became known in Eng land.
1611. Authorized Version of the Bible. 1^12. Essays, second edition.
1613. The New Atlantis written.
1614. Napier invented logarithms.
1616. Bacon made Privy Counsellor. Shakespeare died.
1617. Bacon became Lord Keeper.
1618. Bacon made Lord Chancellor and Baron Verulain of Verulam.
1620. Novum Organum.
1621. Bacon made Viscount St, Alkiii, Bacon's fall.
1622. The History of Hen^' VIL De Augmentis Scientiarum.
1624. Apophthegms and Translations of Certain Psalms, James I. died. Essays, third edition. Bacon died.
THE
ESSAYES OR COVNSELS,
CIVILL AND MORALL,
OF
FRANCIS LO. VERVLAM, VISCOVNT ST. ALBAN NEWLY ENLARGED.
LONDON :
Printed by JOHN HAVILAND, for HANNA BARHET and RICHARD And are to be sold at the signe of the King's Head, in Paul's Churchyard. 1325.
'
THE EPISTLE DEDICATORY
To the Right Honorable my very good Lo. the
of BUCKINGHAM his Grace, Lo. High Admiral of England.
EXCELLENT Lo.
SOLOMON says, A good name is as a precious ointment; and I assure myself, such will your Grace's name be with posterity. For your fortune and merit both have been eminent. And you have planted things that are like to last. I do now publish my Essays; which, of all my other works, have been most current; for that, as it seems, they come home to men's business and bosoms. I have enlarged them both in number and weight; so that they are indeed a new work. I thought it therefore agreeable to my affection and obligation to your Grace, to prefix your name before them, both in English and in Latin. For I do con ceive that the Latin volume of them (being in the universal language) may last as long as books last. My Instauration I dedicated to the King; my History of Henry the Seventh (which I have now also trans lated into Latin), and my portions of Natural History, to the Prince; and these I dedicate to your Grace- being of the best fruits that by the good increase which God gives to my pen and labors I could yield, God lead your Grace by the hand.
Your Grace's most obliged and faithful servant,
FR. ST. ALBAN.
ESSAYS OR COUNSELS CIVIL AND MORAL
OF TRUTH
WHA T is truth ? said jesting Pilate ; 1 and would not stay for an answer. Certainly there be that delight
Ji>-^w*^V^f/ ff^^-^f^*
in glddinass,2 antl count it a bondage to fix a belief; affecting free-will in thinking, as well as in acting. And though the sects of philosophers of that kind 3 be gone, yet there remain certain discoursing wits 4 which are of the same veins, though there be not so much blood in them as was in those of the ancients. But it is not only the difficulty and labor which men take in finding out of truth; nor again that when it is found it imposeth upon men's thoughts; that doth bring lies in favor; but a natural though cor rupt love of the lie itself. One of the later school 5 of the Grecians examineth the matter and is at a stand to think what should be in it, that men should love lies, where neither they make for pleasure, as with poets, nor for advantage, as with the merchant; but for the lie's sake. But I cannot tell; this same truth is a naked and open day-light, that doth not show th( masks and mummeries and triumphs of the world, hall so stately and daintily as candle-lights.6 Truth may perhaps come to the price of a pearl, that showeth best by day; but it will not rise to the price of a diamond or carbuncle, that showeth best in varied lights. A
6 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
mixture of a lie doth ever add pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that if there were taken out of men's minds vain opinions, flattering hopes, false valuations, imaginations as one would, and the like, but it would leave the minds of a number of men poor shrunken things, full of melancholy and indisposition^ and un- pleasing to themselves? One of the fathers,7 in great severity, called poesy vinum dcemonum [devil' s-wine], because it filleth the imagination; and yet it is but with the shadow of a lie. But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the lie that sinketh in and settleth in it, that doth the hurt1, such as we spake of before. But howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved judgments and affections, yet truth, which only doth judge itself, teacheth that the inquiry of truth, which is the love-making or wooing of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of human nature. The first creature of God, in the works of the days, was the light of the sense; the last was the light of reason; and his sab bath work ever since is the illumination of his Spirit. First he breathed light upon the face of the matter or chaos; then he breathed light into the face of man; and still he breatheth and inspireth light into the face of his chosen/ The poet8 that beautified the sect that was otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well: It is a pleasure to stand upon the shore and to see ships tossed upon the sea ; a pleasure to stand in the window of a castle and to see a battle and the adventures thereof below : but no pleasure is comparable to the stand ing upon the vantage ground of truth (a hill not to be commanded, and where the air is always clear and serene), and to see the error i and wanderings and
OF DEATH 7
mists and tempests in the vale below ; so always that this prospect be with pity, and not with swelling or pride. Certainly, it is heaven upon earth, to have a man's mind move in charity,9 rest in providence, and turn upon the poles of truth./
To pass from theological and philosophical truth to the truth of civil business; 10 it will be acknowledged even by those that practise it not, that clear and round dealing is the honor of man's nature; and that mix ture of falsehood is like alloy in coin of gold and silver, which may make the metal work the better, but it embaseth it. For these winding and crooked courses are the goings of the serpent; which goeth basely upon the belly, and not upon the feet, There is no vice that doth so cover a man with shame as to be found false and perfidious/And therefore Montaigne saith n pret tily, when he inquired the reason why the word of the lie should be such a disgrace and such an odious charge. Saith he, If it be well weighed, to say that a man licth, is as much to say, as that he is brave towards God and a coward towards men. For a lie faces God, and shrinks from man. Surely the wickedness of false hood and breach of faith cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in that it shall be the last peal12 to call the judgments of God upon the generations of men; it being foretold 13 that when Christ cometh, he shall not find faith upon the earth.
II
OF DEATH
MEN fear death, as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other. Certainly, the contemplation of
8 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
death, as the wages of sin and passage to another world, is holy and religious; but the fear of it, as a tribute due unto nature, is weak. Yet in religious meditations there is sometimes mixture of vanity and of supersti tion. You shall read in some of the friars' books of mortification,1 that a man should think with himself what the pain is if he have but his finger's end pressed or tortured, and thereby imagine what the pains of death are, when the whole body is corrupted and dis solved; when many times death passeth with less pain than the torture of a limb; for the most vital parts are not the quickest of sense. And by him that spake 2 only as a philosopher and natural man, it was well said, Pompa mortis magis ferret, quam mors ipsa [It is the accompaniments of death that are frightful rather than death itself]. Groans and convulsions, and a dis colored face, and friends weeping, and blacks,3 and ob sequies, and the like, show death terrible. It is worthy the observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man so weak, but it mates and masters the fear of death; and therefore death is no such terrible enemy when a man hath so many attendants about him that can win the combat of him. Revenge triumphs over death; love slights it; honor aspireth to it; grief flieth to it; fear pre-occupateth it; nay, we read,4 after Otho the emperor had slain himself, pity (which is the tenderest of affections) provoked many to die, out of mere compassion to their sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers. Nay, Seneca adds5 niceness and satiety: Cogita quamdiu eadem feceris; mori velle, non tantum fortis, aut miser, sed etiam fastidiosus potest [Think how long thoii hast done the same thing; not only a valiant man or a miserable man, but also a fas tidious man is able to wish for death]. A man would
OF DEATH 9
die, though he were neither valiant nor miserable, only upon a weariness to do the same thing so oft over and over. It is no less worthy to observe, how little alteration in good spirits the approaches of death make; for they* Appear to be the same men till the last instant. Augustus Caesar6 died in a compliment; Livia, conjugii nostri memor, vive et vale [Farewell, Li via; and forget not the days of our marriage]. Tiberius in dissimulation; as Tacitus saith 7 of him, Jam Tiberium vires et corpus, non dissimulatio, desere- bant [His powers of body were gone, but his power of dissimulation still remained]. Vespasian 8 in a jest, sit ting upon the stool; Ut puto deus fio [As I think, I am becoming a god]. Galba 9 with a sentence; Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani [Strike, if it be for the good of Rome]; holding forth his neck. Septimius Severus 10 in despatch; Adcste si quid mihi restat agendum [Be at hand, if there is anything more for me to do]. And the like. Certainly the Stoics11 bestowed too much cost upon death, and by their great preparations made it appear more fearful. Better saith he,12 qui finem vitas extremum. inter munera ponat natures [who ac counts the close of life as one of the benefits of nature]. It is as natural to die as to be born ; and to a little infant, perhaps, the one is as painful as the other. He that dies in an earnest pursuit, is like one that is wounded in hot blood; who, for the time, scarce feels the hurt; and therefore a mind fixed and bent upon somewhat that is good doth avert the dolors of death. But, above all, believe it, the sweetest canticle is, Nunc dimittis 13 [Now lettest thou . . . depart]; • when a man hath obtained worthy ends and expectations. Death hath this also; that it openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguished! envy. Extinctus amabitur idem 14 [The
10 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
same man that was envied while he lived, shall bt loved when he is gone].
Ill
OF UNITY IN RELIGION
RELIGION being the chief band of human society, it is a happy thing when itself is well contained within the true band of unity. The quarrels and divisions about religion were evils unknown to the heathen. The reason was because the religion of the heathen consisted rather in rites and ceremonies than in any constant belief. For you may imagine what kind of faith theirs was, when the chief doctors and fathers of their church were the poets.1 But the true God hath this attribute, that he is a jealous God ; 2 and therefore his worship and religion will endure no mixture nor partner. We shall therefore speak a few words con cerning the unity of the church; what are the fruits thereof; what the bounds; and what the means.
The fruits of unity (next unto the well pleasing of God, which is all in all) are two: the one towards those that are without the church, the other towards those that are within. For the former; it is certain that heresies and schisms are of all others the greatest scandals; yea, more than corruption of manners. For as in the natural body a wound or solution of continuity is worse than a corrupt humor; so in the spiritual. So that nothing doth so much keep men out of the church, and drive men out of the church, as breach of unity. And therefore, whensoever it cometh to that pass, that one saith Ecce in deserto3 [Lo! in the desert], another saith Ecce in penetralibus [Lo! in the sanchi* ary]; that is, when some men seek Christ in the con-
OF UNITY IN RELIGION 11
venticles of heretics, and others in an outward face of a church, that voice had need continually to sound in men's ears, Nolite exire, — Go not out. The doctoi of the Gentiles 4 (the propriety of whose vocation drew him to have a special care of those without) saith, If an heathen come in, and hear you speak with several tongues, will he not say that you are mad ? And certainly it is little better, when atheists and profane persons do hear of so many discordant and contrary opinions in religion; it doth avert them from the church, and maketh them to sit down 5 in the chair of the scorners. It is but a light thing to be vouched in so serious a matter, but yet it expresseth well the deformity. There is a master of scoffing,6 that in his catalogue of books of a feigned library sets down this title of a book, The Morris-Dance of Heretics. For indeed every sect of them hath a diverse posture or cringe by themselves, which cannot but move derision in worldlings and depraved politics,7 who are apt to contemn holy things.
As for the fruit towards those that are within; it is peace; which containeth infinite blessings. It estab- lisheth faith; it kindleth charity; the outward peace of the church distilleth into peace of conscience; and it turneth the labors of writing and reading of contro versies into treaties 8 of mortification and devotion.
Concerning the bounds of unity; the true placing of them importeth exceedingly. There appear to be two extremes. For to certain zealants 9 all speech of pacification is odious. 7* it peace,10 Jehu? What hast thou to do with peace? turn thee behind me. Peace is not the matter, but following and party. Contrariwise, certain Laodiceans u and lukewarm persons think they may accommodate points of religion by middle ways,
12 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
and taking part of both, and witty reconcilements; as if they would make an arbitrament between God and man. Both these extremes are to be avoided; which will be done, if the league of Christians penned by our Savior himself were in the two cross clauses 12 thereof soundly and plainly expounded : He that is not with us is against us; and again, He that is not against us is with us; that is, if the points fundamental and of substance in religion were truly discerned and distin guished from points not merely of faith, but of opinion, order, or good intention. This is a thing may seem to many a matter trivial, and done already. But if it were done less partially, it would be embraced more generally.
Of this I may give only this advice, according to my small model. Men ought to take heed of rending God's church by two kinds of controversies. The one is, when the matter of the point controverted is too small and light, not worth the heat and strife about it, kindled only by contradiction. For as it is noted by one of the fathers,13 Christ's coat indeed had no seam, but the church's vesture was of divers colors ; whereupon he saith, In veste varietas sit, scissura non sit [Let there be variety in the garment, but let there be no division]; they be two things, unity and uniformity. The other is, when the matter of the point controverted is great, but it is driven to an over-great subtilty and obscurity; so that it becometh a thing rather ingenious than sub stantial. A man that is of judgment and understand ing shall sometimes hear ignorant men differ, and know well within himself that those which so differ mean one thing, and yet they themselves would never agree. And iHt come so to pass in that distance of judgment which is between man and man. shall we not think 14
13
that God above, that knows the heart, doth not dis cern that frail men in some of their contradictions intend the same thing; and accepteth of both? The nature of such controversies is excellently expressed by St. Paul in the warning and precept that he giveth concerning the same, Devita 15 profanas vocum novi- tates, et oppositiones falsi nominis sciential [Avoid pro fane novelties of terms, and oppositions of ^science falsely so called]. Men create oppositions which are not; and put them into new terms so fixed, as whereas the meaning ought to govern the term, the term in effect governeth the meaning.16 There be also two false peaces or unities: the one, when the peace is grounded but upon an implicit 17 ignorance; for all colors will agree in the dark: the other, when it is pieced up upon a direct admission of contraries in fundamental points. For truth and falsehood, in such things, are like the iron and clay in the toes of Nebu chadnezzar's image; 18 they may cleave, but they will not incorporate.
Concerning the means of procuring unity; men must beware, that in the procuring or muniting of religious unity they do not dissolve and deface the laws of charity and of human society. There be two swords 19 amongst Christians, the spiritual and temporal; and both have their due office and place in the mainte nance of religion. But we may not take up the third sword, which is Mahomet's sword, or like unto it; that is, to propagate religion by wars or by sanguinary per secutions to force consciences; except it be in cases of overt scandal, blasphemy, or intermixture of practice against the state; much less to nourish seditions; to authorize conspiracies and rebellions; to put the sword into the people's hands; and the like; tending to the
14 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
subversion of all government, which is the ordinance of God. For this is but to dash the first table 20 against the second; and so to consider men as Christians, as we forget that they are men. Lucretius21 the poet, when he beheld the act of Agamemnon, thai could endure the sacrificing of his own daughter, ex claimed :
" Tantum Relligio potuit suadere malorum "
[To such ill actions Religion could persuade a man]. What would he have said, if he had known of the mas sacre in France,22 or the powder treason of England ? 23 He would have been seven times more Epicure 24 and atheist than he was. For as the temporal sword is to be drawn with great circumspection in cases of religion; so it is a thing monstrous to put it into the hands of the common people. Let that be left unto the Ana baptists,25 and other furies. It was great blasphemy when the devil said,26 1 will ascend and be like the High est; but it is greater blasphemy to personate God, and bring him in saying, I will descend, and be like the prince of darkness: and what is better, to make the cause of religion to descend to the cruel and execrable actions of murthering princes, butchery of people, and subversion of states and governments ? Surely this is to bring down the Holy Ghost, instead of the likeness of a dove,27 in the shape of a vulture or raven ; and set out of the bark of a Christian church a flag of a bark of pirates and assassins. Therefore it is most neces sary that the church by doctrine and decree, princes by their sword, and all learnings, both Christian and moral, as by their Mercury rod,28 do damn and send to hell for ever those facts and opinions tending to the support of the same; as hath been already in good part done. Surely in counsels concerning religion,
\
OF REVENGE 15
that counsel of the apostle29 would be prefixed, Ira hominis non implet justitiam Dei [The wrath of man worketh not the righteousness of God]. And it was a notable observation of a wise father,30 and no less ingenuously confessed ; that those which held and per suaded pressure of consciences, were commonly inter- esscd 31 therein themselves for their own ends.
IV
OF REVENGE
REVENGE is a kind of wild justice; which the more man's nature runs to, the more ought law to weed it out. For as for the first wrong, it doth out offend the law; but the revenge of that wrong putteth the law out of office. Certainly, in taking revenge, a man is but even with his enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior; for it is a prince's part to pardon. And Solomon,1 I am sure, saith, It is the glory of a man to pass by an offence. That which is past is gone, and irrevocable; and wise men have enough to do with things present and to come; therefore they do but trifle with themselves, that labor in past matters. There is no man doth a wrong for the wrong's sake; but thereby to purchase himself profit, or pleasure, or honor, or the like. Therefore why should I be angry with a man for loving himself better than me ? And if any man should do wrong merely out of ill-nature, why, yet it is but like the thorn or briar, which prick and scratch, because they can do no other. The most tol erable sort of revenge is for those wrongs which there is no law to remedy; 2 but then let a man take heed the revenge be such as there is no law to punish; else a man's enemy is still before hand, and it is two for one.
16 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
Some, when they take revenge, are desirous the party should know whence it cometh. This is the more gen erous. For the delight seemeth to be not so much in doing the hurt as in making the party repent. But base and crafty cowards are like the arrow that flieth in the dark. Cosmus,3 duke of Florence, had a des perate saying against perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those wrongs were unpardonable; You shall read (saith he) that we are commanded to forgive our ene mies; but you never read that we are commanded to for give our friends. But yet the spirit of Job 4 was in a better tune: Shall we (saith he) take good at God's hands, and not be content to take evil also? And so of friends in a proportion. This is certain, that a man that studieth revenge keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal and do well. Public re venges are for the most part fortunate; as that for the death of Caesar; 5 for the death of Pertinax; 6 for the death of Henry the Third7 of France; and many more. But in private revenges it is not so. Nay rather, vindictive persons live the life of witches; who, as they are mischievous, so end they infortunate.
OF ADVERSITY
IT was an high speech of Seneca 1 (after the man ner of the Stoics), that the good things which belong to prosperity are to be wished ; but the good things that belong to adversity are to be admired. Bona rerum se- cundarum optabilia ; adversarum mirabilia. Certainly if miracles be the command over nature, they appear most in adversity. It is yet a higher speech 2 of his than the other (much too high for a heathen), It is
OF ADVERSITY 17
true greatness to have in one the frailty of a man, and the security of a God. Vere magnum habere fragilita- tem hominis, securitatem Dei. This would have done better in poesy, where transcendences are more al lowed. And the poets indeed have been busy with it; for it is in effect the thing which is figured in that strange fiction 3 of the ancient poets, which seemeth not to be without mystery; nay, and to have some approach to the state of a Christian; that Hercules, when he went to unbind Prometheus (by whom human nature is represented), sailed the length of the great ocean in an earthen pot or pitcher ; lively describing Christian resolution, that saileth in the frail bark of the flesh through the waves of the world. But to speak in a mean.4 The virtue of prosperity is temperance; the virtue of adversity is fortitude; which in morals is the more heroical virtue. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old Testament ; adversity is the blessing of the New; which carrieth the greater benediction, and the clearer revelation of God's favor. 'Yet even in the Old Testament, if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as many hearse-like airs as carols; and the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath labored more in describing the afflictions of Job than the felicities of Solomon.5 Pros perity is not without many fears and distastes; and adversity is not without comforts and hopes. We see in needle- works and embroideries, it is more pleasing to have a lively work upon a sad and solemn ground, than to have a dark and melancholy work upon a lightsome ground: judge therefore of the pleasure of the heart by the pleasure of the eye. Certainly virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when they are incensed or crushed: for prosperity doth best dis cover vice, but adversity doth best discover virtue.
18 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
VI L
OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION
DISSIMULATION is but a faint kind of policy or wis dom; for it asketh a strong wit and a strong heart to know when to tell truth, and to do it. Therefore it is the weaker sort of politics that are the great dis semblers.
Tacitus saith,1 Livia sorted well with the arts of her husband and dissimulation of her son ; attributing arts or policy to Augustus, and dissimulation to Tiberius. And again,2 when Mucianus encourageth Vespasian to take arms against Vitellius, he saith, We rise not against the piercing judgment of Augustus, nor the ex treme caution or closeness of Tiberius. These proper ties, of arts or policy and dissimulation or closeness, are indeed habits and faculties several, and to be distin guished. For if a man have that penetration of judg ment as he can discern what things are to be laid open, and what to be secreted, and what to be showed at half lights, and to whom and when (which indeed are arts of state and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them *), to him a habit of dissimulation is a hinderance and a poorness. But if a man cannot obtain to that judg ment, then it is left to him generally to be close, and a dissembler. For where a man cannot choose or vary in particulars, there it is good to take the safest and wariest way in general; like the going softly by one that cannot well see. Certainly the ablest men that ever were have had all an openness and frankness of deal ing; and a name of certainty and veracity; but then they were like horses well managed ; for they could tell passing well when to stop or turn; and at such
OF SIMULATION AND DISSIMULATION 19
times when they thought the case indeed required dissimulation, if then they used it, it came to pass that the former opinion spread abroad of their good faith and clearness of dealing made them almost invisible.
There be three degrees of this hiding and veiling of a man's self. The first, closeness, reservation, and secrecy; when a man leaveth himself without observa tion, or without hold to be taken, what he is. The second, dissimulation, in the negative; when a man lets fall signs and arguments, that he is not that he is. And the third, simulation, in the affirmative; when a man industriously and expressly feigns and pretends to be that he is not.
For the first of these, secrecy; it is indeed the virtue of a confessor. And assuredly the secret man heareth many confessions. For who will open himself to a blab or a babbler ? But if a man be thought secret, it inviteth discovery; as the more close air sucketh in 4 the more open; and as in confession the revealing is not for worldly use, but for the ease of a man's heart, so secret men come to the knowledge of many things in that kind; while men rather discharge their minds than impart their minds. In few words, mysteries are _ due to secrecy. Besides (to say truth) nakedness is uncomely, as well in mind as body; and it addeth no small reverence to men's manners and actions, if they be not altogether open. As for talkers and futile per sons, they are commonly vain and credulous withal. For he that talketh what he knoweth, will also talk what he knoweth not. Therefore set it down, that an • habit of secrecy is both politic and moral. And in this part it is good that a man's face give his tongue leave to speak. For the discovery of a man's self 5 by the tracts of his countenance is a great weakness and be-
20 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
traying; by how much it is many times more marked and believed than a man's words.
For the second, which is dissimulation; it followeth many times upon secrecy by a nece?sity; so that he that will be secret must be a dissembler in some degree. For men are too cunning to suffer a man to keep an indifferent carriage between both, and to be secret, without swaying the balance on either side. They will so beset a man with questions, and draw him on, and pick it out of him, that, without an absurd silence, he must show an inclination one way; or if he do not, they will gather as much by his silence as by his speech. As for equivocations, or oraculous speeches, they can not hold out long. So that no man can be secret,8 except he give himself a little scope of dissimulation; which is, as it were, but the skirts or train of secrecy.
But for the third degree, which is simulation and false profession; that I hold more culpable, and less politic; except it be in great and rare matters. And therefore a general custom of simulation (which is this last degree) is a vice, rising either of a natural falseness or fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some main faults, which because a man must needs disguise, it maketh him practise simulation in other things, lest his hand should be out of ure.7
The great advantages of simulation and dissimula tion are three. First, to lay asleep opposition, and to surprise. For where a man's intentions are pub lished, it is an alarum to call up all that are against them. The second is, to reserve to a man's self a fair retreat. For if a man engage himself by a manifest declaration, he must go through or take a fall. The third is, the better to discover the mind of another. For to him that opens himself men will hardly show
OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN 21
themselves adverse; but will (fair) let him go on, and turn their freedom of speech to freedom of thought. And therefore it is a good shrewd proverb of the Spaniard, Tell a lie 8 and find a troth. As if there were no way of discovery but by simulation. There be also three disadvantages, to set it even. The first, that simulation and dissimulation commonly carry with them a show of fearfulness, which in any business doth spoil the feathers of round flying up to the mark. The second, that it puzzleth and perplexeth the con ceits of many, that perhaps would otherwise co-operate with him; and makes a man walk almost alone to his own ends. The third and greatest is, that it depriveth a man of one of the most principal instruments for action ; which is trust and belief. The best composi tion and temperature is to have openness in fame and opinion;9 secrecy in habit; dissimulation in seasonable use; and a power to feign, if there be no remedy.
VII
OF PARENTS AND CHILDREN
THE joys of parents are secret; and so are their griefs and fears. They cannot utter the one; nor they will not utter the other. Children sweeten labors; but they make misfortunes more bitter. They increase the cares of life; but they mitigate the remembrance of death. The perpetuity by generation is common to beasts; but memory, merit, and noble works are proper to men. And surely * a man shall see the noblest works and foundations have proceeded from child less men ; which have sought to express the images of their minds, where those of their bodies have failed. So the care of posterity is most in them that have no
22 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
posterity. They that are the first raisers of their houses are most indulgent towards their children; beholding them as the continuance not only of their kind but of their work; and so 'both children and creatures.
The difference in affection 2 of parents towards their several children is many times unequal; and sometimes unworthy; especially in the mother; as Solomon saith,3 4 wise son rejoiceth the father, but an ungracious son shames the mother. A man shall see, where there is a house full of children, one or two of the eldest re spected, and the youngest made wantons; but in the midst some that are as it were forgotten, who many times nevertheless prove the best. The illiberality of parents in allowance towards their children is an harmful error; makes them base; acquaints them with shifts; makes them sort with mean company; and makes them surfeit more when they come to plenty. And therefore the proof is best, when men keep their authority towards their children, but not their purse. MeiTTiave aTfooIish manner (both parents and school masters and servants) in creating and breeding an emulation between brothers during childhood, which many times sorteth to discord when they are men, and disturbeth families. The Italians make little difference between children and nephews or near kinsfolks; but so they be of the lump, they care not though they pass not through their own body. And, to say truth, in nature it is much a like matter; insomuch that we see a nephew sometimes resembleth an uncle or a kinsman more than his own parent; as the blood happens. Let parents choose betimes the vocations and courses they mean their children should take; for then they are most flexible; and let them not too much apply them selves to the disposition of their children, as thinking
OF MARRIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE 23
they will take best to that which they have most mind to. It is true, that if the affection or aptness of the children be extraordinary, then it is good not to cross it; but generally the precept 4 is good, optimum elige, suave et facile illud faciet consuetude [choose the best ^ • — custom will make it pleasant and easy]. Younger brothers are commonly fortunate, but seldom or never where the elder are disinherited.
VIII
OF MARRIAGE AND SINGLE LIFE
V
HE that hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune; for they are impediments 1 to great enter prises, either of virtue or mischief. Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit for the public, have proceeded from the unmarried or childless men; which both in affection and means have married and endowed the public. Yet it were great reason that those that have children should have greatest care of future times ; unto which they know they must transmit their dearest pledges.2 Some there are, who though they lead a single life, yet their thoughts do end with themselves, and account future times impertinences. Nay, there are some other that account wife and children but as bills of charges. Nay more, there are some foolish rich covetous men, that take a pride in having no children, because they may be thought so much the richer. For perhaps they have heard some talk, Such an one is a great rich man, and another except to it, Yea, but he hath a great charge of children; as if it were an abatement to his riches. But the most ordi nary cause of a single life is liberty, especially in cer tain self-pleasing and humorous minds,3 which are so
24 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
• sensible of every restraint, as they will go near to think , their girdles and garters to be bonds and shackles. / Unmarried men are best friends, best masters, best servants; but not always best subjects; for they are light to run away; and almost all fugitives are of that condition. A single life doth well with churchmen; for charity will hardly water the ground where it must first fill a pool. It is indifferent for judges and magis-. trates; for if they be facile and corrupt, you shall have a servant five times worse than a wife. For soldiers, I find the generals commonly in their hortatives put men in mind of their wives and children; and I think the despising of marriage amongst the Turks maketh the vulgar soldier more base. I Certainly wife and children are a kind of discipline of humanity; and single men, though they may be many times more charitable, be cause their means are less exhaust, yet, on the other side, they are more cruel and hardhearted (good to make severe inquisitors), because their tenderness is not so oft called upon. Grave natures, led by custom, and therefore constant, are commonly loving husbands, as was said of Ulysses,4 vetulam suam praetulit immor- talitati [he preferred his old wife to immortality] Chaste women are often proud and f reward, as pre suming upon the merit of their chastity. It is one of the best bonds both of chastity and obedience in the wife, if she think her husband wise; which she will
i never do if she find him jealous. Wives are youn^r men's mistresses; companions for middle age; and olo men^s nurses. So as a man may have a quarrel 5 to marry when he will. But yet he was reputed one of the wise men,6 that made answer to the question, when a man should marry, — A young man not yet, an elder man not at all. ,It is often seen that bad husbands
OF ENVY 25
have very good wives; whether it be that it raiseth the price of their husband's kindness when it comes; or that the wives take a pride in their patience. But this never fails, if the bad husbands were of their own choosing, against their friends' consent; for then they will be sure to make good their own folly.
IX
OF ENVY
THERE be none of the affections which have been noted to fascinate or bewitch, but love and envy. They both have vehement wishes; they frame them selves readily into imaginations and suggestions; and they come easily into the eye, especially upon the pre sence of the objects; which are the points that con duce to fascination, if any such thing there be. We see likewise the Scripture 1 calleth envy an evil eye; and the astrologers call the evil influences 2 of the stars evil aspects; so that still there seemeth to be acknow ledged, in the act of envy, an ejaculation or irradiation of the eye.3 Nay some have been so curious as to note that the times when the stroke or percussion of an en vious eye doth most hurt are when the party envied is beheld in glory or triumph; 4 for that sets an edge upon envy : and besides, at such times the spirits of the per son envied do come forth most into the outward parts, and so meet the blow.
But leaving these curiosities (though not unworthy to be thought on in fit place), we will handle, what persons are apt to envy others; what persons are most subject to be envied themselves ; and what is the differ ence between public and private envy.
A man that hath no virtue in himself, ever envieth
26 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
virtue in others. For men's minds will either feed upon their own good or upon others' evil; and who wanteth the one will prey upon the other; and whose is out of hope to attain to another's virtue, will seek to come at even hand by depressing another's fortune.
A man that is busy and inquisitive is commonl} envious. For to know much of other men's matters cannot be because all that ado may concern his own estate; therefore it must needs be that he taketh a kind of play-pleasure in looking upon the fortunes of others. Neither can he that mindeth but his own busi ness find much matter for envy. For envy is a gad ding passion, and walketh the streets, and doth not keep home: Nonest 5 curiosiis, quin idem sit malevolvj [There is no curious man but has some malevolence to quicken his curiosity].
Men of noble birth are noted to be envious towards new men 8 when they rise. For the distance is altered ; and it is like a deceit of the eye, that when others come on they think themselves go back.
Deformed persons,7 and eunuchs, and old men, and bastards, are envious. For he that cannot possibly mend his own case will do what he can to impair an other's; except these defects light upon a very brave and heroical nature, which thinketh to make his nat ural wants part of his honor; in that it should b< said, that an eunuch, or a lame man, did such great matters ; affecting the honor of a miracle; as it was in Narses 8 the eunuch, and Agesilaus 9 and Tamber- lanes,10 that were lame men.
The same is the case of men that rise n after calami ties and misfortunes. For they are as men fallen out with the times; and think other men's harms a redemp tion of their own sufferings.
OF ENVY 27
They that desire to excel in too many matters, out of levity and vain glory, are ever envious. For they cannot want work;12 it being impossible but many in some one of those things should surpass them. Whicl was the character of Adrian 13 the Emperor; that mor tally envied poets and painters and artificers, in works wherein he had a vein to excel.
Lastly, near kinsfolks,14 and fellows in office, and those that have been bred together, are more apt to envy their equals when they are raised. For it doth upbraid unto them their own fortunes, and pointeth at them, and cometh oftener into their remembrance, and incurreth likewise more into the note of others; and envy ever redoubleth from speech and fame. Cain's envy 15 was the more vile and malignant towards his brother Abel, because when his sacrifice was better accepted there was no body to look on. Thus much for those that are apt to envy.
Concerning those that are more or less subject to envy: First, persons of eminent virtue, when they are advanced, are less envied. For their fortune seem- eth but due unto them; and no man envieth the payment of a debt, but rewards and liberality rather. Again, envy is ever joined with the comparing of a man's self; and where there is no comparison, no envy; and therefore kings are not envied but by kings. Nevertheless it is to be noted that unworthy person! are most envied at their first coming in, and afterwards overcome it better; whereas contrariwise, persons of worth and merit are most envied when their fortune continueth long. For by that time, though their virtue be the same, yet it hath not the same lustre; for fresh men grow up that darken it.
Persons of noble blood are less envied in their rising.
28 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
For it seemeth but right done to their birth. Besides, there seemeth not much added to their fortune; and envy is as the sunbeams,16 that beat hotter upon a bank or steep rising ground, than upon a flat. And for the same reason those that are advanced by degrees are less envied than those that are advanced suddenly and per saltum [at a bound].
Those that have joined17 with their honor great trav els, cares, or perils, are less subject to envy. For men think that they earn their honors hardly, and pity them sometimes; and pity ever healeth envy.18 Where fore you shall observe that the more deep and sober sort of politic persons,19 in their greatness, are ever be moaning themselves, what a life they lead ; chanting a quanta patimur [how great things do we suffer!]. Not that they feel it so, but only to abate the edge of envy. But this is to be understood of business that is laid upon men, and not such as they call unto them selves. For nothing increaseth envy more than an un necessary and ambitious engrossing of business. And nothing doth extinguish enyy more than for a great person to preserve all other inferior officers in their fall rights and pre-eminences of their places. For by that means there be so many screens between him and envy.
Above all, those are most subject to envy, which carry the greatness of their fortunes in an insolent and proud manner; being never well but while they are showing how great they are, either by outward pomp, or by triumphing over all opposition or competition; whereas wise men will rather do sacrifice to envy, in suffering themselves sometimes of purpose to be crossed and overborne in things that do not much concern them. Notwithstanding, so much is true, that the car-
OF ENVY 29
riage of greatness in a plain and open manner (so it be without arrogancy and vain glory) doth draw less envy than if it be in a more crafty and cunning fashion. For in that course a man doth but disavow fortune;20 and seemeth to be conscious of his own want in worth; and doth but teach others to envy him.
Lastly, to conclude this part; as we said in the begin ning that the act of envy had somewhat in it of witch craft, so there is no other cure of envy but the cure of witchcraft;21 and that is, to remove the lot22 (as they call it) and to lay it upon another. For which purpose, the wiser sort of great persons bring in ever upon the stage somebody upon whom to derive the envy that would come upon themselves; sometimes upon ministers and servants; sometimes upon col leagues and associates; and the like; and for that turn there are never wanting some persons of violent and undertaking natures, who, so they may have power and business, will take it at any cost.
Now, to speak of public envy. There is yet some good in public envy, whereas in private there is none. v For public envy is as an ostracism, that eclipseth men when they grow too great. And therefore it is a bridle also to great ones, to keep them within bounds.
This envy, being in the Latin word invidia, goeth in the modern languages by the name of discontentment ; of which we shall speak in handling sedition. It is a disease in a state like to infection. For as infection spreadeth upon that which is sound, and tainteth it; so when envy is gotten once into a state, it traduceth even the best actions thereof, and turneth them into an ill odor. And therefore there is little won by inter mingling of plausible 23 actions. For that doth argue but a weakness and fear of envy, which hurteth so
80
much the more, as it is likewise usual in infections, which if you fear them, you call them upon you.
This public envy seemeth to beat chiefly upon prin- cipal officers or ministers, rather than upon kings and estates themselves. But this is a sure rule, that if the envy upon the minister be great, when the cause of it in him is small; or if the envy be general in a man ner upon all the ministers of an estate; then the envy (though hidden) is truly upon the state itself.24 And so much of public envy or discontentment, and the dif ference thereof from private envy, which was handled in the first place.
We will add this in general, touching the affection of envy; that of all other affections it is the most im portune and continual. For of other affections there is occasion given but now and then ; and therefore it was well said, Invidia festos dies non agit [Envy keeps no holidays]: for it is ever working upon some or other. And it is also noted that love and envy do make a man pine, which other affections do not, because they are not so continual. It is also the vilest affection, and the ^most depraved;25 for which cause it is the proper attri bute of the devil, who is called the envious man,26 that soweth tares amongst the wheat by night; as it always cometh to pass, that envy worketh subtilly, and in the dark; and to the prejudice of good things, such as is the wheat.
X
OF LOVE
THE stage is more beholding to love, than the life of man. For as to the stage, love is ever matter of come dies, and now and then of tragedies; but in life it doth much mischief; sometimes like a siren,1 sometimes like
OF LOVE 31
a fury.2 You may observe that amongst all the great and worthy persons (whereof the memory remaineth, either ancient or recent) there is not one that hath been transported to the mad degree of love : which shows that great spirits and great business do keep out this weak passion. You must except nevertheless Marcus Antonius,3 the half partner of the empire of Rome, and Appius Claudius,4 the decemvir and law giver; 5 whereof the former was indeed a voluptuous man, and inordinate; but the latter was an austere and wise man : and therefore it seems (though rarely) that love can find entrance not only into an open heart, but also into a heart well fortified, if watch be not well kept. It is a poor saying 6 of Epicurus, Satis magnum alter alteri theatrum sumus [Each is to another a theatre large enough] ; as if man, made for the contemplation of heaven and all noble objects, should do nothing but kneel before a little idol,7 and make himself a subject, though not of the mouth (as beasts are), yet of the eye; which was given him for higher purposes. It is a strange thing to note the excess of this passion, and how it braves the nature and value of things, by this; that the speaking in a perpetual hyperbole is comely in nothing but in love. Neither is it merely in the phrase; for whereas it hath been .well said that the arch-flatterer, with whom all the petty flatterers have intelligence, is a man's self; certainly the lover is more. For there was never proud man thought so absurdly well of himself as the lover doth 8 of the person loved ; and therefore it was well said,9 That it is impossible to love and to be wise. Neither doth this weakness appear to others only, and not to the party loved; but to the loved most of all, except the love be reciproque.10 For it is a true rule, that love is ever rewarded either with
32 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
the reciproque or with an inward and secret contempt. By how much the more men ought to beware of this passion, which loseth not only other things, but itself! As for the other losses, the poet's relation doth well figure them: that he that preferred11 Helena quitted the gifts of Juno and Pallas. For whosoever esteem' eth too much of amorous affection quitteth both riches and wisdom." This passion hath his floods in the very times of weakness; which are great prosperity and great adversity; though this latter hath been less ob served: both which times kindle love, and make it more fervent, and therefore show it to be the child of folly. They do best, who if they cannot but admit love, yet make it keep quarter;13 and sever it wholly from their serious affairs and actions of life; for if it check once with business, it troubleth men's fortunes, and maketh men that they can no ways be true to their own ends. I know not how, but martial men 14 are given to love: I think it is but as they are given to wine; for perils commonly ask to be paid in pleasures. There is in man's nature a secret inclination and mo tion towards love of others, which if it be not spent upon some one or a few, doth naturally spread itself towards many, and maketh men become humane and charitable; as it is seen sometime in friars. Nuptial love maketh mankind; friendly love 15 perfecteth it; but wanton love corrupteth and embaseth it. nav^ >je -to foul Fvat\V<.\
XI
OF GREAT PLACE
MEN in great place are thrice servants : servants of the sovereign or state; servants of fame; and servants of business. So as they have no freedom; 1 neither in
OF GREAT PLACE 33
their persons, nor in their actions, nor in their times. It is a strange desire, to seek power and to lose liberty : or to seek power over others and to lose power over a man's self. The rising unto place is laborious; and by pains men come to greater pains; and it is sometimes base; and by indignities men come to dignities. The standing is slippery, and the regress is either a down fall, or at least an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing. Cum non sis 2 qui fueris, non csse cur veils vivere [When a man feels that he is no longer what he was, he has no reason to live longer]. Nay, retire men can not when they would,3 neither will they when it were reason; but are impatient of privateness, even in age and sickness, which require the shadow; like old towns men, that will be still sitting at their street door, though thereby they offer age to scorn. Certainly great per sons had need to borrow other men's opinions, to think themselves happy; for if they judge by their own feel ing, they cannot find it: but if they think with them selves what other men think of them, and that other men would fain be as they are, then they are happy as it were by report ; when perhaps they find the con trary within. For they are the first that find their own griefs, though they be the last that find their own faults. Certainly men in great fortunes are strangers to themselves, and while they are in the puzzle of busi ness they have no time to tend their health either of body or mind. Illi mors grams incubat, qui notus nimis omnibus, ignotus moritur sibi [It is a sad fate for a man to die too well known to everybody else, and still unknown to himself]. In place there is license to do good and evil; whereof the latter is a curse: for in evil the best condition is not to will; the second, not to can.4 But power to do good is the true and law-
84 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
ful end of aspiring. For good thoughts (though God accept them) yet towards men are little better than good dreams, except they be put in act; and that can not be without power and place, as the vantage and commanding ground. Merit and good works is the end of man's motion; and conscience 5 of the same is the accomplishment of man's rest. For if a man can be partaker of God's theatre,6 he shall likewise be par taker of God's rest. Et conversus Dens,1 ut aspiceret opera quafecerunt manus suas, vidit quod omnia essent bona nimis [And God turned to look upon the works which his hands had made, and saw that all were very good] ; and then the sabbath. In the discharge of thy place set before thee the best examples; for imitation ;is a globe of precepts. And after a time set before thee thine own example; and examine thyself strictly whether thou didst not best at first. Neglect not also & the examples of those that have carried themselves ill in the same place; not to set off thyself by taxing their memory, but to direct thyself what to avoid. Reform therefore, without bravery 9 or scandal of former times and persons; but yet set it down to thyself as well to create good precedents as to follow them. Reduce things to the first institution, and observe wherein and how they have degenerate; but yet ask counsel of both times; of the ancient time, what is best; and of the latter time, what is fittest. Seek to make thy course regular, that men may know beforehand what they may expect; but be not too positive and peremptory; and express thyself well when thou digressest from thy rule. Preserve the right of thy place; but stir not questions of jurisdiction : and rather assume thy right in silence and de facto [from the fact], than voice it with claims and challenges. Preserve likewise the rights of
OF GREAT -PLACE 35
inferior places; and think it more honor to direct in chief than to be busy in all. Embrace and invite helps and advices 10 touching the execution of thy place; and do not drive away such as bring thee information, as meddlers; but accept of them in good part. The vices of authority are chiefly four: delays, corruption, rough ness, and facility.11 For delays: give easy access; keep times appointed; go through with that which is in hand, and interlace not business but of necessity. For corruption : do not only bind thine own hands or thy servants' hands from taking, but bind the hands of suitors also from offering. For integrity used doth the one: but integrity professed, and with a manifest de testation of bribery, doth the other. And avoid not only the fault, but the suspicion. Whosoever is found variable, and changeth manifestly without manifest 'jause, giveth suspicion of corruption. Therefore al ways when thou changest thine opinion or course, pro fess it plainly, and declare it, together with the reasons that move thee to change ; and do not think to steal it. A servant or a favorite, if he be inward, and no other apparent cause of esteem, is commonly thought buf a by-way to close corruption. For roughness: it is a needless cause of discontent: severity breedeth fear, but roughness breedeth hate. Even reproofs from authority ought to be grave, and not taunting. As for facility: it is worse than bribery. For bribes come but now and then; but if importunity or idle respects lead a man, he shall never be without. As Solomon saith,12 To respect persons is not good; for zuch a man will transgress for a piece of bread. It is most true that was anciently spoken, A place showeth the man.13 And it showeth some to the better, and some to the worse. Omnium consensu capax imperil, nisi imperasset [A
36 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
man whom every body would have thought fit for empire if he had not been emperor], saith Tacitus 14 of Galba; but of Vespasian 15 he saith, Solug imperantium, Vespasianus mutatus in melius [He was the only em peror whom the possession of power changed for the better] ; though the one was meant of sufficiency, the other of manners and affection. It is an assured sign of a worthy and generous spirit, whom honor amends. For honor is, or should be, the place of virtue; and as in nature things move violently to their place and calmly in their place, so virtue in ambition is violent,, in authority settled and calm. All rising to great place is by a winding stair; and if there be factions, it is good to side a man's self whilst he is in the rising, and to balance himself when he is placed. Use the mem ory of thy predecessor fairly and tenderly; for if thou dost not, it is a debt will sure be paid when thou art gone. If thou have colleagues, respect them, and rather call them ie when they look not for it, than ex clude them when they have reason to look to be called. Be not too sensible or too remembering of thy place in conversation and private answers to suitors; but let it rather be said, When he sits in place he is another man-
XII
OF BOLDNESS
IT is a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worth} a wise man's consideration. Question was asked * of Demosthenes, what was the chief part of an orator? he answered, action; what next? action; what next again ? action. He said it that knew it best, and had by nature himself no advantage in that he commended. A strange thing, that that part of an orator which is
OF BOLDNESS 3?
but superficial, and rather the virtue of a player, should be placed so high, above those other noble parts of invention, elocution: and the rest; nay almost alone, as if it were all in all. But the reason is plain. There is in human nature generally more of the fool than of the wise; and therefore those faculties by which the foolish part of men's minds is taken are most potent. Wonderful like is the case of boldness, in civil busi ness : what first ? boldness ; what second and third ? boldness. And yet 'boldness is a child of ignorance and baseness, far inferior to other parts. But never theless it doth fascinate and bind hand and foot those that are either shallow in judgment or weak in courage, which are the greatest part; yea and prevaileth with wise men at weak times. Therefore we see it hath done wonders in popular states; but with senates and princes less; and more ever upon the first entrance of bold persons into action than soon after; for boldness is an ill keeper of promise. Surely as there are mounte banks 2 for the natural body, so are there mountebanks for the politic body; men that undertake great cures, and perhaps have been lucky in two or three experi ments, but want the grounds 3 of science, and therefore cannot hold out. Nay, you shall see a bold fellow many times do Mahomet's miracle. Mahomet made the people believe that he would call an hill to him, and from the top of it offer up his prayers for the ob servers of his law. The people assembled; Mahomet called the hill to come to him, again and again; and when the hill stood still, he was never a whit abashed, but said, If the hill 4 will not come to Mahomet, Mahomet will go to the hill. So these men, when they have pro mised great matters and failed most shamefully, yet (if they have the perfection of boldness) they will but
38 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
slight it over, and make a turn, and no more ado. Certainly to men of great judgment, bold persons are a sport to behold; nay and to the vulgar also, boldness has somewhat of the ridiculous. For if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you not but great bold ness is seldom without some absurdity. Especially it is a sport to see, when a bold fellow is out of counte nance; for that puts his face into a most shrunken and wooden posture ; 5 as needs it must; for in bashfulness the spirits do a little go and come; but with bold men, upon like occasion, they stand at a stay; like a stale G at chess, where it is no mate, but yet the game cannot stir. But this last were fitter for a satire than for a serious observation. This is well to be weighed; that boldness is ever blind; for it seeth not dangers and inconveniences. Therefore it is ill in counsel, good in execution; so that the right use of bold persons is, that they never command in chief, but be seconds, and under the direction of others. For in counsel it is good to see dangers; and in execution not to see them, except they be very great.
XIII
OF GOODNESS AND GOODNESS OF NATURE
I TAKE goodness in this sense, the affecting of the weal of men, which is that the Grecians call philan- thropia; and the word humanity (as it is used) is a little too light to express it. Goodness I call the habit, and goodness of nature the inclination. This of all virtues and dignities of the mind is the greatest; being the character of the Deity: and without it man is a busy, mischievous, wretched thing; no better than a kind of vermin. Goodness answers to the theologi-
OF GOODNESS AND GOODNESS OF NATURE 39
cal virtue charity, and admits no excess, but error. The desire of power in excess caused the angels to fall ; l the desire of knowledge in excess caused man to fall: but in charity there is no excess; neither can angel or man come in danger by it. The inclination to good ness is imprinted deeply in the nature of man; inso much that if it issue not towards men, it will take unto other living creatures; as it is seen in the Turks, a cruel people, who nevertheless are kind to beasts, and give alms to dogs and birds; insomuch as Busbechius 2 reporteth, a Christian boy in Constantinople had like to have been stoned for gagging in a waggishness a long-billed fowl. Errors indeed in this virtue of good ness or charity may be committed. The Italians have an ungracious proverb, Tanto buon che val niente \So good, that he is good for nothing]. And one of the doc tors 3 of Italy, Nicholas Machiavel,4 had the confidence to put in writing, almost in plain terms, That the Chris tian faith had given up good men in prey to those that are tyrannical and unjust. Which he spake, because indeed there was never law or sect or opinion did so much magnify goodness as the Christian religion doth. Therefore, to avoid the scandal and the danger both, it is good to take knowledge of the errors of an habit so excellent. Seek the good of other men, but be not in bondage to their faces or fancies; for that is but facility or softness ; which taketh an honest mind pris oner. Neither give thou ^Esop's cock 5 a gem, who would be better pleased and happier if he had had a barley-corn. The example of God teacheth the lesson truly : He sendeth his rain 6 and maketh his sun to shine upon the just and unjust ; but he doth not rain wealth, nor shine honor and virtues, upon men equally. Common benefits are to be communicate with all; but peculiar
40 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
benefits with choice. And beware how in making tie portraiture thou breakest the pattern. For divinity maketh the love of ourselves the pattern; the love of our neighbors but the portraiture. Sell all thou hast,1 and give it to the poor, and follow me : but sell not all thou hast, except thou come and follow me; that is, except thou have a vocation wherein thou mayest do as much good with little means as with great; for other wise in feeding the streams thou driest the fountain. Neither is there only a habit of goodness, directed by right reason; but there is in some men, even in nature, a disposition 8 towards it; as on the other side there is a natural malignity. For there be that in their nature do not affect the good of others. The lighter sort of malignity turneth but to a crossness, or frowardness, or aptness to oppose, or difficilness, or the like; but the deeper sort to envy and mere mischief. Such men in other men's calamities are, as it were, in season, and are ever on the loading part: not so good as the dogs that licked Lazarus' sores; 9 but like flies that are still buzzing upon any thing that is raw; misanthropi [haters of men], that make it their practice to bring men to the bough, and yet have never a tree for the purpose in their gardens, as Timon 10 had. Such dispositions are the very errors of human nature; and yet they are the fittest timber to make great politics of; like to knee timber, that is good for ships, that are ordained to be tossed; but not for building houses, that shall stand firm. The parts and signs of goodness are many. If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it shows he is a citizen of the world, and that his heart is no island cut off from other lands, but a continent that joins to them. If he be compassionate towards the afflictions of others, it shows that his heart is like the noble
OF NOBILITY 41
tree that is wounded itself when it gives the balm.11 If he easily pardons and remits offences, it shows that his mind is planted above injuries; so that he cannot be shot. If he be thankful for small benefits, it shows that he weighs men's minds, and not their trash. But above all, if he have St. Paul's perfection,12 that he would wish to be an anathema from Christ for the salvation of his brethren, it shows much of a divine nature, and a kind of conformity with Christ himself.
XIV
OF NOBILITY
WE will speak of nobility first as a portion of an estate;1 then as a condition of particular persons. A monarchy where there is no nobility at all is ever a pure and absolute tyranny; as that of the Turks. For nobility attempers sovereignty, and draws the eyes of the people somewhat aside from the line royal. But for democracies, they need it not; and they are com monly more quiet and less subject to sedition, than where there are stirps of nobles. For men's eyes are upon the business, and not upon the persons; or if upon the persons, it is for the business' sake, as fittest, and not for flags and pedigree. We see the Switzers 2 last well, notwithstanding their diversity of religion and of cantons. For utility is their bond, and not respects.3 The united provinces of the Low Countries 4 in their government excel; for where there is an equal ity, the consultations are more indifferent, and the pay ments and tributes more cheerful. A great and potent nobility addeth majesty to a monarch, but diminisheth power; and putteth life and spirit into the people, but presseth their fortune. It is well when nobles are not
42 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
too great for sovereignty nor for justice; and yet maintained in that height, as the insolency of inferiors may be broken upon them before it come on too fast upon the majesty of kings. A numerous nobility causeth poverty and inconvenience in a state; for it is a surcharge of expense; and besides, it being of neces sity that many of the nobility fall in time to be weak in fortune, it maketh a kind of disproportion between honor and means.
As for nobility in particular persons; it is a reverend thing to see an ancient castle or building not in decay; or to see a fair timber tree sound and perfect. How much more to behold an ancient noble family, which hath stood against the waves and weathers of time! For new nobility is but the act of power, but ancient nobility is the act of time. Those that are first raised to nobility are commonly more virtuous, but less in nocent, than their descendants; for there is rarely any rising but by a commixture of good and evil arts. But it is reason the memory of their virtues 5 remain to their posterity, and their faults die with themselves. Nobility of birth commonly abateth industry; and he that is not industrious, envieth him that is. Be sides, noble persons cannot go much higher; and he that standeth at a stay when others rise, can hardly avoid motions of envy. On the other side, nobility extinguisheth the passive envy from others towards them; because they are in possession of honor. Cer tainly, kings that have able men of their nobility shall find ease in employing them, and a better slide into their business; for people naturally bend to them, as born in some sort to command.
OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES 43
XV
OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES
SHEPHERDS of people had need know the calendars * of tempests in state; which are commonly greatest when things grow to equality; as natural tempests are greatest about the Equinoctia. And as there are cer tain hollow blasts of wind and secret swellings of seas before a tempest, so are there in states:
Ille etiam 2 caecos instate tumultus
Ssepe monet, fraudesque et operta tumescere Bella.
[Of troubles imminent and treasons dark
Thence warning conies, and wars in secret gathering.]
Libels and licentious discourses against the state, when they are frequent and open; and in like sort, false news often running up and down to the disadvantage of the state, and hastily embraced; are amongst the signs of troubles. Virgil,3 giving the pedigree of Fame, suilh she was sister to the Giants:
1 Hum Terra parens, ira irritata deorum,
Extremam (ut perhibent) Creo Enceladoque sororem
Progenuit.
[Her, Parent Earth, furious with the anger of the gods, brought forth, the youngest sister (as they affirm) of Coeus and Enceladus.]
As if fames were the relics of seditions past; but they are no less indeed the preludes of seditions to come Howsoever he noteth it right, that seditious tumulti and seditious fames differ no more but as brother and sister, masculine and feminine; especially if it come to that, that the best actions of a state, and the most plausible, and which ought to give greatest content ment, are taken in ill sense, and traduced: for that
44 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
shows the envy great, as Tacitus saith; 4 conflata magna invidia, sen bene sen male gesta premunt [when dislike prevails against the government, good actions and bad offend alike]. Neither doth it follow, that because these fames are a sign of troubles, that the suppressing of them with too much severity should be a remedy of troubles. For the despising of them many times checks them best; and the going about to stop them doth but make a wonder long-lived. Also that kind of obedience which Tacitus speaketh of,5 is to be held suspected : Erant in officio, sed tamen qui mallent man- data imperantium interpretari quam exequi [Ready to serve, and yet more disposed to construe commands than execute them] ; disputing, excusing, cavilling upon mandates and directions, is a kind of shaking off the yoke, and assay of disobedience; especially if in those disputings they which are for the direction speak fearfully and tenderly, and those that are against it audaciously.
Also, as Machiavel 6 noteth well, when princes, that ought to be common parents, make themselves as a party, and lean to a side, it is as a boat that is over thrown by uneven weight on the one side; as was well seen in the time of Henry the Third of France; for first himself entered league 7 for the extirpation of the Pro testants; and presently after the same league was turned upon himself. For when the authority of princes is made but an accessory to a cause, and that there be other bands that tie faster than the band of sover eignty, kings begin to be put almost out of possession.
Also, when discords, and quarrels, and factions are carried openly and audaciously, it is a sign the rever ence of government is lost. For the motions of the greatest persons in a government ought to be as the
OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES 45
motions of the planets under primum mobile ; 8 (accord ing to the old opinion), which is, that every of them is carried swiftly by the highest motion, and softly in their own motion. And therefore, when great ones in their own particular motion move violently, and, as Tacitus expresseth it 9 well, liberius quam ut imperan- tium meminisscnt [unrestrained by reverence for the government], it is a sign the orbs are out of frame. For reverence is that wherewith princes are girt from God; who threateneth 10 the dissolving thereof; Solvam cin- gula regum [I will unbind the girdles of kings].
So when any of the four pillars of government are mainly shaken or weakened (which are religion, jus tice, counsel, and treasure), men had need to pray for fair weather. But let us pass from this part of predic tions (concerning which, nevertheless, more light may be taken from that which followeth) ; and let us speak first of the materials of seditions; then of the motives of them; and thirdly of the remedies.
Concerning the materials of seditions. It is a thing well to be considered; for the surest way to prevent seditions (if the times do bear it) is to take away the matter of them. For if there be fuel prepared, it is hard to tell whence the spark shall come that shall set it on fire. The matter of seditions is of two kinds : much poverty and much discontentment. It is cer tain, so many overthrown estates,11 so many votes for troubles. Lucan noteth 12 well the state of Rome before the Civil War,13
Hinc usura vorax, rapidumque in tempore foenus, Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum.
[Hence estates eaten up by usurious rates of interest, and interest greedy of time, hence credit shaken, and war a gain to many.]
46 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
This same multis utile bellum is an assured and in fallible sign of a state disposed to seditions and troubles. And if this poverty and broken estate in the better sort be joined with a want and necessity in the mean people, the danger is imminent and great. For the rebellions of the belly 14 are the worst. As for discon tentments, they are in the politic body like to humors :n the natural, which are apt to gather a preternatural h^at and to inflame. And let no prince measure the danger of them by this, whether they be just or unjust: for that were to imagine people to be too reasonable; who do often spurn at their own good: nor yet by this, whether the griefs whereupon they rise be in fact great or small : for they are the most dangerous discon tentments where the fear is greater than the feeling. Dolendi modus,15 timendi non item [Suffering has its limit, but fears are endless]. Besides, in great oppres sions, the same things that provoke the patience, do withal mate 19 the courage; but in fears it is not so. Neither let any prince or state be secure concerning discontentments, because they have been often, or have been long, and yet- no peril hath ensued : for as it is true that every vapor or fume doth not turn into a storm; so it is nevertheless true that storms, though they blow over divers times, yet may fall at last; and as the Spanish proverb noteth well, The cord breaketh ' at the last by the weakest pull.
The causes and motives of seditions are, innovation in religion; taxes; alteration of laws and customs, breaking of privileges; general oppression; advance ment of unworthy persons; strangers; dearths; dis banded soldiers; factions grown desperate; and what soever, in offending people, joineth and knitteth them in a common cause.
OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES 47
For the remedies; there may be some general pre^ servatives, whereof we will speak: as for the just cure, it must answer to the particular disease; and so be left to counsel rather than rule.
The first remedy or prevention is to remove by all means possible that material cause of sedition whereof we spake; which is, want and poverty in the estate. To which purpose serveth the opening and well-bal ancing of trade; the cherishing of manufactures; the banishing of idleness; the repressing of waste and excess by sumptuary laws; the improvement and hus banding of the soil; the regulating of prices of things vendible; the moderating of taxes and tributes; and the like. Generally, it is to be foreseen 18 that the popu lation of a kingdom (especially if it be not mown down by wars) do not exceed the stock of the kingdom which should maintain them. Neither is the population to be reckoned only by number; for a smaller number that spend more and earn less do wear out an estate sooner than a greater number that live lower and gather more. Therefore the multiplying of nobility and other degrees of quality in an over proportion to the common people doth speedily bring a state to necessity; and so doth likewise an overgrown clergy; for they bring nothing to the stock; and in like manner, when more are bred scholars 19 than preferments can take off.
It is likewise to be remembered, that forasmuch as the increase of any estate must be upon the foreigner (for whatsoever is somewhere gotten is somewhere lost 20), there be but three things which one nation selleth unto another; the commodity as nature yield- eth it; the manufacture; and the vecture, or carriage. So that if these three wheels go, wealth will flow as in a spring tide. And it cometh many times to pass,
48 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
that materiam super obit opus;21 that the work and car« riage is more worth than the material, and enricheth a state more; as is notably seen in the Low-Countrymen, who have the best mines above ground 22 in the world.
Above all things, good policy is to be used that the treasure and moneys in a state be not gathered into few hands. For otherwise a state may have a grea^ stock, and yet starve. And money is like muck, not good except it be spread. This is done chiefly by sup pressing, or at the least keeping a strait hand upon the devouring trades of usury,23 ingrossing,24 great pasturages,25 and the like.
For removing discontentments, or at least the dan ger of them; there is in every state (as we know) two portions of subjects; the noblesse and the commonalty. When one of these is discontent, the danger is not great; for common people are of slow motion, if they be not excited by the greater sort; and the greater sort are of small strength, except the multitude be apt and ready to move of themselves. Then is the dan ger, when the greater sort do but wait for the troubling of the waters amongst the meaner, that then they may declare themselves. The poets feign that the rest of the gods would have bound Jupiter; which he hearing of, by the counsel of Pallas,26 sent forBriareus, with his hundred hands, to come in to his aid. An emblem, no doubt, to show how safe it is for monarchs to make sure of the good will of common people.
To give moderate liberty for griefs and discontent ments to evaporate (so it be without too great inso- lency or bravery), is a safe way. For he that turneth the humors back, and maketh the wound bleed in wards, endangereth malign ulcers and pernicious imposthumations.
OF SEDITIONS AND TROUBLES 49
The part of Epimetheus 27 mought well become Pro metheus, in the case of discontentments; for there is not a better provision against them. Epimetheus, when griefs and evils flew abroad, at last shut the lid, and kept hope in the bottom of the vessel. Certainly, the politic and artificial nourishing and entertaining of hopes, and carrying men from hopes to hopes, is one of the best antidotes against the poison of discontent ments. And it is a certain sign of a wise government and proceeding, when it can hold men's hearts by hopes, when it cannot by satisfaction; and when it can handle things in such manner, as no evil shall appear so peremptory but that it hath some outlet of hope; which is the less hard to do, because both particular persons and factions are apt enough to flatter them selves, or at least to brave that which they believe not.
Also the foresight and prevention, that there be no likely or fit head whereunto discontented persons may resort, and under whom they may join, is a known, but an excellent point of caution. I understand a fit head to be one that hath greatness and reputation; that «'>ath confidence with the discontented party, and upon whom they turn their eyes; and that is thought dis contented in his own particular: which kind of persons are either to be won and reconciled to the state, and that in a fast and true manner; or to be fronted witl some other of the same party, that may oppose them, and so divide the reputation. Generally, the dividing and breaking of all factions and combinations that are adverse to the state, and setting them at distance, or at least distrust, amongst themselves, is not one of the worst remedies. For it is a desperate case, if those that hold with the proceeding of the state be full of
SO THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
discord and faction, and those that are against it be entire and united.
I have noted that some witty and sharp speeches which have fallen from princes have given fire to sedi tions. Caesar28 did himself infinite hurt in that speech, Sylla nescivit literas, non potuit dictare [Sylla was no scholar, he could not dictate]; for it did utterly cut off that hope which men had entertained, that he would at one time or other give over his dictatorship. Galba 29 undid himself by that speech, legi a se militem, non emi [that he did not buy his soldiers, but levied them]; for it put the soldiers out of hope of the donative. Probus 30 likewise, by that speech, Si vixero, non opus erit amplius Romano imperio militibus [If I live, the Roman empire shall have no more need of sol diers]; a speech of great despair for the soldiers. And many the like. Surely princes had need, in tender matters and ticklish times, to beware what they say; especially in these short speeches, which fly abroad like darts, and are thought to be shot out of their secret intentions. For as for large discourses, they are flat things, and not so much noted.
Lastly, let princes, against all events, not be without some great person, one or rather more, of military valor, near unto them, for the repressing of seditions "in their beginnings. For without that, there useth to be more trepidation in court upon the first breaking out of troubles than were fit. And the state runneth the danger of that which Tacitus saith; 31 Atque is habitus animorum fuit, ut pessimum facinus auderent pauci, plures vellent, omnes paterentur [A few were in a humor to attempt mischief, more to desire, all to allow it]. But let such military persons be assured, and well reputed of, Bather than factious and popular; holding
OF ATHEISM 51
also good correspondence with the other great men in the state ; or else the remedy is worse than the disease.
XVI
OF ATHEISM
I HAD rather believe all the fables in the Legend,1 <7Snd the Talmud,2 and the Alcoran,3 than that this uni versal frame is without a mind.- And therefore God never wrought miracle to convince atheism, because his ordinary works convince it. It is true, that a little philosophy inclineth man's mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's minds about to religion. For while the mind of man looketh upon second causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them, and go no further; but when it beholdeth the chain of them, confederate and linked together, it must needs fly to Providence and Deity. Nay, even that school which is most accused of atheism doth most demonstrate re ligion ; that is, the school of Leucippus 4 and Democri- tus and Epicurus. For it is a thousand times more credible, that four mutable elements,5 and one immut able fifth essence,6 duly and eternally placed, need no God, than that an army of infinite small portions or seeds unplaced,7 should have produced this order and beauty without a divine marshal. The Scripture saith,8 The fool hath said in his heart, there is no God; it is not said, The fool hath thought in his heart; so as he rather saith it by rote to himself, as that he would have, than that he can thoroughly believe it, or be per suaded of it. For none deny there- is a God, but those 'for whom it maketh that there were no God. It ap- peareth in nothing more, that atheism is rather in the lip than in the heart of man, than by this; that athe-
52 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
ists will ever be talking of that their opinion, as if they fainted in it within themselves, and would be glad to be strengthened by the consent of others. Nay more, you shall have atheists strive to get disciples, as it fareth with other sects. And, which is most of all, you shall have of them that will suffer for atheism, and not recant; whereas if they did truly think that there were no such thing as God, why should they trouble themselves? Epicurus 9 is charged that he did but dis. semble for his credit's sake, when he affirmed there were blessed natures, but such as enjoyed themselves without having respect to the government of the world. Wherein they say he did temporize; though in secret he thought there was no God. But certainly he is traduced; for his words are noble and divine: Non deos 10 vulgi negare profanum; sed vulgi opiniones diis applicare profanum [There is no profanity in refusing to believe in the gods of the people: the profanity is in believing of the gods what the people believe of them]. Plato could have said no more. And although he had the confidence to deny the administration, he had not the power to deny the nature. The Indians u of the West have names for their particular gods, though they have no name for God : as if the heathens should have had the names Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, etc. but not the word Deus; which shows that even those barbarous people have the notion, though they have not the latitude and extent of it. So that against athe ists the very savages take part with the very subt lest philosophers. The contemplative atheist12 is rare: a Diagoras,13 a Bion,14 a Lucian 15 perhaps, and some others; and yet they seem to be more than they are; for that all that impugn a received religion or superstition are by the adverse part branded with the
OF ATHEISM />S
name of atheists. But the great atheists indeed are hypocrites; which are ever handling holy things, but without feeling ; so as they must needs be cauterized in the end. The causes of atheism are: divisions in religion, if they be many; for any one main division addeth zeal to both sides; but many divisions intro duce atheism. Another is, scandal of priests; when it is come to that which St. Bernard 16 saith, Non est jam dicere, ut populus sic sacerdos; quia nee sic populus ut sacerdos [One cannot now say the priest is as the people, for the truth is that the people are not so bad as the priest]. A third is, custom of profane scoffing in holy matters; which doth by little and little deface the reverence of religion. And lastly, learned times, specially with peace and prosperity; for troubles and adversities do more bow men's minds to religion. They that deny a God destroy man's nobility; for cer tainly man is of kin to the beasts by his body; and, if he be not of kin to God by his spirit, he is a base and ignoble creature. It destroys likewise magnanimity, and the raising of human nature; for take an example of a dog, and mark what a generosity and courage he will put on when he finds himself maintained by a man; who to him is instead of a God, or melior na- tura [better nature]; which courage is manifestly such as that creature, without that confidence of a better nature than his own, could never attain. So man, when he resteth and assureth himself upon divine protection and favor, gathereth a force and faith which human nature in itself could not obtain. Therefore, as atheism is in all respects hateful, so in this, that it depriveth human nature of the means to exalt itself above human frailty.' As it is in particular persons, so it is in nations. Never was there such a state for magnanimity as Rome.
54 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
Of this state hear what Cicero saith : 17 Quam volumus licet, patres conscripti, nos amemus, tamen nee numero Hispanos, nee robore Gallos, nee calliditate Pcenos, nee artibus Grcecos, nee denique hoc ipso hujus gentis d terra; domestico nativoque sensu Italos ipsos et Latinos; sed pietate, ac rcligione, atque hoc una sapicntia, quod deorum immortalium numine omnia rcgi gubernarique perspeximus, omnes gentes nationesque superavimus [Pride ourselves as we may upon our country, yet are we not in number superior to the Spaniards, nor in strength to the Gauls, nor in cunning to the Cartha ginians, nor to the Greeks in arts, nor to the Italians and Latins themselves in the homely and native sense which belongs to this nation and land; it is in piety only and religion, and the wisdom of regarding the providence of the immortal gods as that which rules and governs all things, that we have surpassed all nations and peoples].
XVII
OF SUPERSTITION
IT were better to have no opinion l of God at all, than such an opinion as is unworthy of him. For the one is unbelief, the other is contumely; and certainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity. Plutarch 2 saith well to that purpose: Surely (saith he) / had rather a great deal men should say ihere was no such man at all as Plutarch, than that they should say thai there was one Plutarch that would eat his children as soon as they were born; as the poets speak of Saturn.* And as the contumely is greater towards God, so the danger is greater towards men. Atheism leaves a man to sense, to philosophy, to natural piety, to laws, to
OF SUPERSTITION 55
reputation; all which may be guides to an outward moral virtue, though religion were not; but super stition dismounts all these, and erecteth an absolute monarchy in the minds of men. Therefore atheism did never perturb states; for it makes men wary of themselves, as looking no further: and we see the times inclined to atheism (as the time of Augustus 4 Caesar) were civil 5 times. But superstition hath been the confusion of many states, and bringeth in a new primum mobile,0 that ravisheth all the spheres of gov ernment. The master of superstition is the people; and in all superstition wise men follow fools ; and arguments are fitted to practice, in a reversed order. It was gravely said by some of the prelates in the Council of Trent,7 where the doctrine of the School men 8 bare great sway, that the Schoolmen were like astronomers, which did feign eccentrics and epicycles,0 and such engines of orbs, to save the phenomena;10 though they knew there were no such things; and in like manner, that the Schoolmen had framed a number of subtle and intricate axioms and theorems, to save the practice of the church. The causes of superstition are : pleasing and sensual rites and ceremonies; excess of outward and pharisaical holiness; over-great reverence of traditions, which cannot but load the church; the stratagems of prelates for their own ambition anc* lucre; the favoring too much of good intentions, which openeth the gate to conceits and novelties; the taking an aim at divine matters by human, which cannot but breed mixture of imaginations: and, lastly, barbarous times, especially joined with calamities and disasters. Superstition, without a veil, is a deformed thing; for as it addeth deformity to an ape to be so like a man, so the similitude of superstition to religion makes it the more
56 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
deformed. And as wholesome meat cormpteth to little worms, so good forms and orders corrupt into a number of petty observances. There is a superstition in avoid ing superstition,11 when men think to do best if they go furthest from the superstition formerly received ; therefore care would be had that (as it fareth in ill purgings) the good be not taken away with the bad ; which commonly is done when the people is the re former.
XVIII
OF TRAVEL
TRAVEL, in the younger sort, is a part of education, in the elder, a part of experience. He that travelleth into a country before he hath some entrance into the language, goeth to school, and not to travel. That young men travel under some tutor, or grave servant, I allow l well ; so that he be such a one that hath the language, and hath been in the country before ; whereby he may be able to tell them what things are worthy to be seen in the country where they go; what acquaintances they are to seek; what exercises or dis cipline the place yieldeth. For else young men shall go hooded, and look abroad little. It is a strange thing, that in sea voyages, where there is nothing to be seen but sky and sea, men should make diaries ; but in land-travel, wherein so much is to be observed, for the most part they omit it; as if chance were fitter to be registered than observation. Let diaries therefore be brought in use. The things to be seen and observed are: the courts of princes, specially when they give audience to ambassadors; the courts of justice, while they sit and hear causes; and so of consistories ec clesiastic; the churches and monasteries, with the
OF TRAVEL 57
monuments which are therein extant; the walls and fortifications of cities and towns, and so the havens and harbors; antiquities and ruins; libraries; colleges, disputations,2 and lectures, where any are; shipping and navies; houses and gardens of state and pleasure, near great cities; armories; arsenals; magazines; ex changes; burses; warehouses; exercises of horseman ship, fencing, training of soldiers, and the like; come dies, such whereunto the better sort of persons do resort; treasuries of jewels and robes; cabinets and rarities; and, to conclude, whatsoever is memorable in the places where they go. After all which the tutors or servants ought to make diligent inquiry. As for tri umphs, masks, feasts, weddings, funerals, capital execu tions, and such shows, men need not to be put in mind of them; yet are they not to be neglected. If you will have a young man to put his travel into a little room, and in short time to gather much, this you must do. First, as was said, he must have some entrance into the language before he goeth. Then he must have such a servant or tutor as knoweth the country, as was like wise said. Let him carry with him also some card * or book describing the country where he travelleth; which will be a good key to his inquiry. Let him keer also a diary. Let him not stay long in one city o/ town; more or less as the place deserveth, but not long; nay, when he stayeth in one city or town, let him change his lodging from one end and part of the town to another; which is a great adamant 4 of acquaint ance. Let him sequester himself from the company of his countrymen, and diet in such places where there is good company of the nation where he travelleth. Let him, upon his removes from one place to another, procure recommendation to some person of quality
58 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
residing in the place whither he removeth ; that hi may use his favor in those things he desireth to see or know. Thus he may abridge his travel with much profit. As for the acquaintance which is to be sough! in travel ; that which is most of all profitable is ac quaintance with the secretaries and employed men oi ambassadors: for so in travelling in one country he shall suck the experience of many. Let him also see and visit eminent persons in all kinds, which are of great name abroad; that he may be able to tell how the life 5 agreeth with the fame. For quarrels, they are with care and discretion to be avoided. They are commonly for mistresses, healths, place, and words. And let a man beware how he keepeth company with choleric and quarrelsome persons; for they will engage him into their own quarrels. When a traveller return - eth home, let him not leave the countries where he hath travelled altogether behind him; but maintain a correspondence by letters with those of his acquaint ance which are of most worth. And let his travel appear rather in his discourse than in his apparel or gesture; and in his discourse let him be rather advised in his answers, than forwards to tell stories; and let it appear that he doth not change his country manners 6 for those of foreign parts ; but only prick in som< flowers of that he hath learned abroad into the cus toms of his own country.
XIX
OF EMPIRE
IT is a mis^rabjf^state of mind to have few things to desire, and many things to fear; and yet that com monly i$ the case of kingsj_who. being at the highest,
OF EMPIRE 5P
want matter of desire, which makes their minds more languishing; and have many representations * of perils and shadows, which makes their minds the less clear. And this is one reason also of that effect which the ~l i Scripture speaketh of,2 That the &%iy'-T heart is in^rrnt- J able. For multitude of jealousies, and lack of some predominant desire that should marshal and put in order all the rest, maketh any man's heart hard to find or sound. Hence it comes likewise, that princes many times make themselves desires, and set their hearts upon toys; sometimes upon a building; sometimes upon erecting of an order; sometimes upon the ad vancing of a person; sometimes upon obtaining excel lency in some art or feat of the hand; as Nero 3 for playing on the harp, Domitian 4 for certainty of the hand with the arrow, Commodus 5 for playing at fence, Caracalla 6 for driving chariots, and the like. This seemeth incredible unto those that know not the princi ple that the mind of man is more cheered and refreshed by profiting in small things, than by standing at a stay in great. We see also that kings that have been for tunate conquerors in their first years, it being not pos sible for them to go forward infinitely, but that they must have some check or arrest in their fortunes, turn in their latter years to be superstitious and melancholy; as did Alexander the Great ; 7 Diocletian ; 8 and in our memory, Charles the Fifth; 9 and others: for he that is used to go forward, and findeth a stop, falleth out of his own favor, and is not the thing he was.
To speak now of the* true temper 10 of empire; it is a thing rare and hard to keep ; for both temper and distemper consist of contraries. But it is one thing to mingle contraries, another to interchange them. The answer of Apollonius u to Vespasian 12 is full of excellent
60 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
instruction. Vespasian asked him, What was Nero's overthrow? He answered, Nero could touch and tune the harp well ; but in government sometimes he used to wind the pins too high, sometimes to let them down too low. And certain it is that nothing destroyeth author ity so much as the unequal and untimely interchange of power pressed too far, and relaxed too much.
This is true, that the wisdom of all these latter times in princes' affairs is rather fine deliveries and shiftings of dangers and mischiefs when they are near, than solid and grounded courses to keep them aloof. But this is but to try masteries with fortune. And let men beware how they neglect and suffer matter of trouble 13 to be prepared; for no man can forbid the spark, nor tell whence it may come. The difficulties in princes' business are many and -great; but the greatest difficulty is often in their own mind. For it is common with princes (saith Tacitus) 14 to will contradictories, Sunt plerumque regum voluntates vehementes, et inter se con- trance [Their desires are commonly vehement and in compatible one with another]. For it is the solecism of power, to think to command the end, and yet not to endure the mean.
Kings have to deal with their neighbors, their wives, their children, their prelates or clergy, their nobles, their second-nobles or gentlemen, their mer chants, their commons, and their men of war; and from all these arise dangers, if care and circumspection be not used.
First for their neighbors; there can no general rule be given (the occasions are so variable), save one, which ever holdeth; which is, that princes do keep due sentinel, that none of their neighbors do over grow so (by increase of territory, by embracing of
OF EMPIRE 61
trade, by approaches, or the like), as they become more able to annoy them than they were. And this is generally the work of standing counsels to foresee and to hinder it. During that triumvirate 15 of kings, King Henry the Eighth of England, Francis the First King of France, and Charles the Fifth Emperor, there was such a watch kept, that none of the three could win a palm of ground, but the other two would straight- ways balance it, either by confederation, or, if need were, by a war; and would not in any wise take up peace at interest. And the like was done by that league 10 (which Guicciardini 17 saith was the security of Italy) made between Ferdinando King of Naples, Lorenzius Medici,18 and Ludovicus Sforza, potentates, the one of Florence, the other of Milan. Neither is the opinion of some of the Schoolmen to be received, that a war cannot justly be made but upon a precedent injury or provocation. For there is no question but a just fear of an imminent danger, though there be no blow given, is a lawful cause of a war.
For their wives; there are cruel examples of them. Livia19 is infamed for the poisoning of her husband; Roxalana,20 Solyman's 21 wife, was the destruction of that renowned prince Sultan Mustapha, and otherwise troubled his house and succession; Edward the Second of England his queen had the principal hand in the deposing and murther22 of her husband. This kind of danger is then to be feared chiefly, when the wives have plots for the raising of their own children; or else that they be advoutresses.23
For their children ; the tragedies likewise of dangers from them have been many. And generally, the en tering of fathers into suspicion of their children hath been ever unfortunate. The destruction of Mustapha
62 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
(that we named before) was so fatal to Solyman's line, as the succession of the Turks from Solyman until this day is suspected to be untrue, and of strange blood' for that Selymus the Second was thought to be suppo sitions. The destruction of Crispus,24 a young princT of rare towardness, by Constantinus the Great,25 his father, was in like manner fatal to his house; for both Constantinus and Constance, his sons, died violent deaths; and Constantius, his other son, did little bet ter; who died indeed of sickness, but after that Juli- anus had taken arms against him. The destruction of Demetrius,20 son to Philip the Second of Macedon, turned upon the father, who died of repentance. And many like examples there are; but few or none where the fathers had good by such distrust; except it were where the sons were up in open arms against them; as was Selymus27 the First against Bajazet;28 and the three sons of Henry the Second, King of England.
For their prelates; when they are proud and great, there is also danger from them; as it was in the times of Anselmus 29 and Thomas Becket,30 Archbishops of Canterbury; who with their croziers did almost try it with the king's sword; and yet they had to deal with stout and haughty kings, William Rufus, Henry the First, and Henry the Second. Jjrhe danger is not from that state, but where it hath a dependence of foreign authority ; 31 or where the churchmen come in and are elected, not by the collation of the king, or particular patrons, but by the people.
For their nobles; to keep them at a distance, it is not amiss; but to depress them, may make a king more absolute, but less safe; and less able to perform any thing that he desires. I have noted it in my History of King Henry the Seventh of England, who
OF EMPIRE 63
depressed his nobility; whereupon it came to pass that his times were full of difficulties and troubles; for the nobility, though they continued loyal unto him, yet did they not co-operate with him in his business. So that in effect he was fain to do all things himself.
For their second-nobles; there is not much danger Trom them, being a body dispersed. They may some times discourse high, but that doth little hurt; besides, they are a counterpoise to the higher nobility, that they grow not too potent; and, lastly, being the most im mediate in authority with the common people, they do best temper popular commotions.
For their merchants; they are vena porta ;32 and if they flourish not, a kingdom may have good limbs, but will have empty veins, and nourish little. Taxes and imposts upon them do seldom good to the king's reve nue; for that that he wins in the hundred he leeseth 33 in the shire ; the particular rates being increased, but the total bulk of trading rather decreased.
For their commons; there is little danger from them, except it be where they have great and potent heads; or where you meddle with the point of religion, or their customs, or means of life.
For their men of war; it is a dangerous state where they live and remain in a body, and are used to dona tives; whereof we see examples in the janizaries,34 and pretorian bands35 of Rome; but trainings of men, and arming them in several places, and under several commanders, and without donatives, are things of defence, and no danger.
Princes are like to heavenly bodies,36 which cause good or evil times; and which have much veneration, but no rest. All precepts concerning kings are in effect comprehended in those two remembrances : me-
64 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
mento quod es homo; and memento quod es Deus, or vice Dei [Remember that you are a man; and remember that you are a God, or God's lieutenant]; the om bridleth their power, and the other their will.
XX
OF COUNSEL
THE greatest trust between man and man is the trust of giving counsel. For in other confidences men commit the parts of life; their lands, their goods, theii children, their credit, some particular affair; but to such as they make their counsellors, they commit the whole: by how much the more they are obliged to all faith and integrity. The wisest princes need not think it any diminution to their greatness, or derogation to their sufficiency, to rely upon counsel. God himself is not without, but hath made it one of the great names of his blessed Son : The Counsellor.1 Solomon hath pro nounced that in counsel 2 is stability. Things will have their first or second agitation: if they be not tossed upon the arguments of counsel, they will be tossed upon the waves of fortune; and be full of inconstancy, doing and undoing, like the reeling of a drunken man. Solomon's son3 found the force of counsel, as his father saw the necessity of it. For the beloved kingdom of God was first rent and broken by ill counsel; upon which counsel there are set for our instruction the two marks whereby bad counsel is for ever best discerned; that it was young counsel, for the persons; and violent counsel, for the matter.
The ancient times do set forth in figure both the incorporation and inseparable conjunction of counsel with kings, and the wise and politic use of counsel by
OF COUNSEL 65
kings: the one, in that they say Jupiter 4 did marry Metis, which signifieth counsel; whereby they intend that Sovereignty is married to Counsel: the other in that which followeth, which was thus: They say, after Jupiter was married to Metis, she conceived by him and was with child, but Jupiter suffered her not to stay till she brought forth, but eat 5 her up; whereby he became himself with child, and was delivered oi Pallas armed, out of his head. Which monstrous fable containeth a secret of empire; how kings are to make use of their counsel of state. That first they ought to refer matters unto them, which is the first begetting or impregnation; but when they are elabo rate, moulded, and shaped in the womb of their coun sel, and grow ripe and ready to be brought forth, that then they suffer not their counsel to go through with the resolution and direction, as if it depended on them; but take the matter back into their own hands, and make it appear to the world that the decrees and final directions (which, because they come forth with pru dence and power, are resembled to Pallas armed) proceeded from themselves; and not only from their authority, but (the more to add reputation to them selves) from their head and device.
Let us now speak of the inconveniences of counsel, and of the remedies. The inconveniences that have been noted in calling and using counsel are three. First, the revealing of affairs, whereby they become less secret. Secondly, the weakening of the authority of princes, as if they were less of themselves. Thirdly, the danger of being unfaithfully counselled, and more for the good of them that counsel than of him that is counselled. For which inconveniences, the doctrine of Italy, and practice of France, in some kings' times.
60 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
hath introduced cabinet 6 counsels; a remedy worse Jian the disease.'
As to secrecy; princes are not bound to communi cate all matters with all counsellors; but may extract and select. Neither is it necessary that he that con- sulteth what he should do, should declare what he will do. But let princes beware that the unsecreting of their affairs comes not from themselves. And as for cabinet counsels, it may be their motto, plenus rima- rum 8 sum [I am full of leaks] : one futile person that maketh it his glory to tell, will do more hurt than many that know it their duty to conceal. It is true there be some affairs which require extreme secrecy, which will hardly go beyond one or two persons be sides the king: neither are those counsels unpros- perous; for, besides the secrecy, they commonly go on constantly in one spirit of direction, without distraction. But then it must be a prudent king, such as is able to grind 9 with a hand-mill; and those inward counsellors had need also be wise men, and especially true and trusty to the king's ends; as it was with King Henry the Seventh 10 of England, who in his greatest business imparted himself to none, except it were to Morton u and Fox.12
For weakening of authority; the fable showeth the remedy. Nay, the majesty of kings is rather exalted than diminished when they are in the chair of counsel; neither was there ever prince bereaved of his depend ences by his counsel; except where there hath been either an over-greatness in one counsellor or an over- strict combination in divers; which are things soon found and holpen.
For the last inconvenience, that men will counsel with an eye to themselves; certainly, non inveniet 1S
OF COUNSEL 67
fidem super terram [he will not find faith on the earth] is meant of the nature of times, and not of all particular persons. There be that are in nature faithful, and sin cere, and plain, and direct; not crafty and involved; let princes, above all, draw to themselves such natures. Besides, counsellors are not commonly so united, but that one counsellor keepeth sentinel over another; so that if any do counsel out of faction or private ends, it commonly comes to the king's ear. But the best rem edy is, if princes know their counsellors, as well as their counsellors know them:
Principis est u virtus maxima nosse suos.
[It is the greatest virtue of a prince to know his own.] And on the other side, counsellors should not be too speculative into their sovereign's person. The true composition of a counsellor is rather to be skilful in their master's business, than in his nature; for then he is like to advise him, and not feed his humor. It is of singular use to princes if they take the opinions of their counsel both separately and together. For pri vate opinion is more free; but opinion before others is more reverend.15 In private, men are more bold in their own humors; and in consort, men are more obnoxious to others' humors; therefore it is good to take both; and of the inferior sort rather in private, to preserve freedom; of the greater rather in consort, to preserve respect. It is in vain for princes to take counsel concerning matters, if they take no counsel likewise concerning persons; for all matters are as dead images; and the life of the execution of affairs resteth in the good choice of persons. Neither is it enough to consult concerning persons secundum genera [according to classes], as in an idea, or mathematical description-
68 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
what the kind and character of the person should be; for the greatest errors are committed, and the most judgment is shown, in the choice of individuals. It was truly said,10 optimi consiliarii mortui [the best counsellors are the dead] : books will speak plain when counsellors blanch. Therefore it is good to be conver sant in them, specially the books of such as themselves have been actors upon the stage.
The counsels at this day in most places are but familiar meetings, where matters are rather talked on than debated. And they run too swift to the order or act of counsel. It were better that in causes of weight, the matter were propounded one day and not spoken to till the next day; in nocte consilium [night is the season for counsel]. So was it done in the Commission 17 of Union between England and Scotland; which was a grave and orderly assembly. I commend set days for petitions; for both it gives the suitors more cer tainty for their attendance, and it frees the meetings for matters of estate, that they may hoc agere 18 [do this]. In choice of committees for ripening business for the counsel, it is better to choose indifferent persons, than to make an indifferency by putting in those that are strong on both sides. I commend also standing commissions; as for trade, for treasure, for war, for suits, for some provinces; for where there be divers par ticular counsels and but one counsel of estate (as it is ii Spain), they are, in effect, no more than standing commissions: save that they have greater authority. Let such as are to inform counsels out of their partic ular professions (as lawyers, seamen, mintmen, and the like) be first heard before committees; and then, as occasion serves, before the counsel. And let them not come in multitudes, or in a tribunitious manner;
OF DELAYS 69
for that is to clamor counsels, not to inform them. A long table and a square table, or seats about the walls, seem things of form, but are things of substance; for at a long table a few at the upper end, in effect, sway all the business; but in the other form there is more use of the counsellors' opinions that sit lower. A king, when he presides in counsel, let him beware how he opens his own inclination too much in that which he propoundeth; for else counsellors will but take the wind of him, and instead of giving free counsel, sing him a song of placebo 19 [I shall please].
XXI
OF DELAYS
FORTUNE is like the market; where many times, if you can stay a little, the price will fall. And again, it is sometimes like Sibylla's 1 offer; which at first offereth the commodity at full, then consumeth part and part, and still holdeth up the price. For occasion (as it is in the common verse 2) turneth a bald noddle, after she hath presented her locks in front, and no hold taken ; or at least turneth the handle of the bottle first to be received, and after the belly, which is hard to clasp. There is surely no greater wisdom than well to tim< the beginnings and onsets of things. Dangers are no more light, if they once seem light; and more dangers have deceived men than forced them. Nay, it were better to meet some dangers half way, though they come nothing near, than to keep too long a watch upon their approaches; for if a man watch too long, it is odds he. will fall asleep. On the other side, to be de ceived with too long shadows (as some have been when the moon was low and shone on their enemies' back),
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and so to shoot off before the time; or to teach dangers to come on, by over early buckling towards them; is another extreme. The ripeness or unripeness of the occasion (as we said) must ever be well weighed; and generally it is good to commit the beginnings of all great actions to Argus 3 with his hundred eyes, and the ends to Briareus 4 with his hundred hands; first to watch, and then to speed. For the helmet of Pluto,5 which maketh the politic man go invisible, is secrecy in the counsel and celerity in the execution. For when things are once come to the execution, there is no se crecy comparable to celerity; like the motion of a bullet in the air, which flieth so swift as it outruns the eye.
XXII
OF CUNNING
WE take cunning for a sinister or crooked wisdom. And certainly there is a great difference between a cunning man and a wise man; not only in point of honesty, but in point of ability. There be that can pack the cards,1 and yet cannot play well; so there are some that are good in canvasses and factions, that are otherwise weak men. Again, it is one thing to under stand persons, and another thing to understand mat ters; for many are perfect in men's humors, that are not greatly capable of the real part of business; which is the constitution of one that hath studied men more than books. Such men are fitter for practice than for counsel; and they are good but in their own alley: 2 turn them to new men, and they have lost their aim; so as the old rule to know a fool from a wise man, Mitte ambos 3 nudos ad ignotos, et videbis [Send them both naked to those they know not, and you will see],
OF CUNNING 71
doth scarce hold for them. And because these cunning men are like haberdashers of small wares, it is not amiss to set forth their shop.
It is a point of cunning, to wait upon him with whom you speak, with your eye; as the Jesuits 4 give it in precept : for there be many wise .men that have secret j ^ hearts and transparent countenances. Yet this would be done with a demure abasing of your eye sometimes, as the Jesuits also do use.
Another is, that when you have anything to obtain of present despatch, you entertain and amuse the party with whom you deal with some other discourse; that he be not too much awake to make objections. I knew a counsellor 5 and secretary, that never came to Queen Elizabeth of England with bills to sign, but he would always first put her into some discourse of estate, that she mought the less mind the bills.
The like surprise may be made by moving things when the party is in haste, and cannot stay to consider advisedly of that is moved.
If a man would cross a business that he doubts some other would handsomely and effectually move, let him pretend to wish it well, and move it himself in such sort as may foil it.
The breaking off in the midst of that one was about to say, as if he took himself up, breeds a greater appe tite in him with whom you confer, to know more.
And because it works better when anything seemeth to be gotten from you by question, than if you offer it of yourself, you may lay a bait for a question, by show ing another visage and countenance than you are wont; to the end to give occasion for the party to ask what the matter is of the change? As Nehemias e did; And I had not before that time been sad before the king.
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In things that are tender and unpleasing, it is good to break the ice by some whose words are of less weight, and to reserve the more weighty voice to come in as by chance, so that he may be asked the question upon the other's speech: as Narcissus did,7 in relating to Claudius the marriage of Messalina and Silius.
In things that a man would not be seen in himself, it is a point of cunning to borrow the name of the world ; as to say, The world says, or There is a speech abroad.
I knew one that, when he wrote a letter, he would put that which was most material in the postscript, as if it had been a by-matter.
I knew another that, when he came to have speech, he would pass over that that he intended most; and go forth, and come back again, and speak of it as of a thing that he had almost forgot.
Some procure themselves to be surprised at such times as it is like the party that they work upon will suddenly come upon them; and to be found with a letter in their hand, or doing somewhat which they are not accustomed; to the end they may be apposed of those things which of themselves they are desirous to utter.
It is a point of cunning, to let fall those words in a man's own name, which he would have another man learn and use, and thereupon take advantage. I knew two 8 that were competitors for the secretary's place in Queen Elizabeth's time, and yet kept good quarter be tween themselves; and would confer one with another upon the business; and the one of them said, That to be a secretary in the declination of a monarchy was a ticklish thing, and that he did not affect it: the other straight caught up those words and discoursed with divers of his friends, that he had no reason tc desire to
OF CUNNING 73
be secretary in the declination of a monarchy. The first man took hold of it, and found means it was told the Queen ; who hearing of a declination of a monarchy, took it so ill as she would never after hear of the other's
yuit.
There is a cunning, which we in England call the turning of the cat ° in the pan; which is, when that which a man says to another, he lays it as if another had said it to him. And to say truth, it is not easy, when such a matter passed between two, to make it appear from which of them it first moved and began.
It is a way that some men have, to glance and dart at others by justifying themselves by negatives; as to say, This I do not; as Tigellinus 10 did towards Burrhus, Se non diver sas spes, sed incolumitatem imperatoris sim- plicitcr spectare [That he had not several hopes to rest on, but looked simply to the safety of the Em peror].
Some have in readiness so many tales and stories, as there is nothing they would insinuate, but they can wrap it into a tale; which serveth both to keep them selves more in guard, and to make others carry it with more pleasure.
It is a good point of cunning for a man to shape the answer he would have in his own words and propo sitions; for it makes the other party stick the less.
It is strange how long some men will lie in wait to speak somewhat they desire to say; and how far about they will fetch; and how many other matters they will beat over, to come near it. It is a thing of great pa tience, but yet of much use.
A sudden, bold, and unexpected question doth many times surprise a man, and lay him open. Like to him that, having changed his name and walking in Paul's,11
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another suddenly came behind him and called him by his true name, whereat straightways he looked back.
But these small wares and petty points of cunning are infinite; and it were a good deed to make a list of them; for that nothing doth more hurt in a state than that cunning men pass for wise.
But certainly some there are that know the resorts and falls 12 of business, that cannot sink into the main of it; like a house that hath convenient stairs and en tries, but never a fair room. Therefore you shall see them find out pretty looses 13 in the conclusion, but are no ways able to examine or debate matters. And yet commonly they take advantage of their inability, and would be thought wits of direction.14 Some build rather upon the abusing of others, and (as we now say) putting tricks upon them, than upon soundness of their own proceedings. But Solomon saith,15 Prudens advertit ad gressus suos; stultus divertit ad dolos [The wise man taketh heed to his steps; the fool turneth aside to deceits].
XXIII
OF WISDOM FOR A MAN*S SELF
AN ant is a wise creature for itself, but it is a shrewd ' thing in an orchard or garden. And certainly men that are great lovers of themselves waste the public. Divide with reason between self-love and society; and be so true to thyself, as thou be not false to others; specially to thy king and country. It is a poor centre of a man's actions, himself. It is right earth.2 For that only stands fast upon his own centre; 3 whereas all things that have affinity with the heavens move upon the centre of another.4 which they benefit. The refer-
OF WISDOM FOR A MAN'S SELF 75
ring of all to a man's self is more tolerable in a sover eign prince; because themselves are not only themselves, but their good and evil is at the peril of the public for tune. But it is a desperate evil in a servant to a prince, or a citizen in a republic. For whatsoever affairs pass such a man's hands, he crooketh them to his own ends; which must needs be often eccentric to 5 the ends of his master or state. Therefore let princes, or states, choose such servants as have not this mark; except they mean their service should be made but the accessory.6 That which maketh the effect more pernicious is that all pro portion is lost. It were disproportion enough for the servant's good to be preferred before the master's ; but yet it is a greater extreme, when a little good of the servant shall carry things against a great good of the master's. And yet that is the case of bad officers, treasurers, ambassadors, generals, and other false and corrupt servants; which set a bias 7 upon their bowl, of their own petty ends and envies, to the overthrow of their master's great and important affairs. And for the most part, the good such servants receive is after the model of their own fortune; but the hurt they sell for that good is after the model of their master's for tune. And certainly it is the nature of extreme self- lovers, as they will set an house on fire, and it were but to roast their eggs ; and yet these men many times hold credit with their masters, because their study is but to please them and profit themselves; and for either respect they will abandon the good of their affairs.
Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches there of, a depraved thing. It is the wisdom of rats,8 that will be sure to leave a house somewhat before it fall. It is the wisdom of the fox,9 that thrusts out the badger,
76 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
who digged and made room for him. It is the wisdom of crocodiles,10 that shed tears when they would devour. But that which is specially to be noted is, that those which (as Cicero u says of Pompey) are sui amantes, sine rivali [lovers of themselves without a rival] are :nany times unfortunate. And whereas they have all their times sacrificed to themselves, they become in the end themselves sacrifices to the inconstancy of fortune, whose wings they thought by their self-wisdom to have pinioned.
XXIV
OF INNOVATIONS
As the births of living creatures at first are ill- shapen, so are all innovations, which are the births of time. Yet notwithstanding, as those that first bring honor into their family are commonly more worthy than most that succeed, so the first precedent (if it be good) is seldom attained by imitation. For ill, to man's nature as it stands perverted, hath a natural motion,1 strongest in continuance; but good, as a forced motion, strongest at first.2 Surely every medicine is an innovation; and he that will not apply new remedies must expect new evils; for time is the greatest inno vator; and if time of course 3 alter things to the worse, and wisdom and counsel shall not alter them to the better, what shall be the end ? It is true, that what is settled by custom, though it be not good, yet at least it is fit; and those things which have long gone to gether are as it were confederate within themselves; whereas new things 4 piece not so well; but though they help by their utility, yet they trouble by their in- conformity. Besides, they are like strangers; more admired and less favored. All this is true, if time
OF DISPATCH 77
stood still; which contrariwise moveth so round, that a froward retention of custom is as turbulent a thing as an innovation; and they that reverence too much old times are but a scorn to the new. It were good there fore that men in their innovations would follow the ex ample of time 5 itself; which indeed innovateth greatly, but quietly, and by degrees scarce to be perceived. For otherwise, whatsoever is new is unlocked for; and ever it mends some, and pairs other; and he that is holpen takes it for a fortune, and thanks the time; and he that is hurt, for a wrong, and imputeth it to the au thor. It is good also not to try experiments in states, except the necessity be urgent, or the utility evident; and well to beware that it be the reformation that draweth on the change, and not the desire of change that pretendeth the reformation. And lastly, that the novelty, though it be not rejected, yet be held for a suspect; and, as the Scripture 6 saith, that we make a stand upon the ancient way, and then look about us, and discover what is the straight and right way, and so to walk in it.
XXV
OF DISPATCH
AFFECTED 1 dispatch is one of the most dangerous things to business that can be. It is like that which the physicians call predigestion, or hasty digestion; which is sure to fill the body full of crudities 2 and secret seeds of diseases. Therefore measure not dispatch by the times of sitting, but by the advancement of the business. And as in races it is not the large stride or high lift that makes the speed; 3 so in business, the keeping close to the matter, and not taking of it too much at once, procureth dispatch. It is the care of
78 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
some only to come off speedily for the time; or to con trive some false periods 4 of business, because they may seem men of dispatch. But it is one thing to abbreviate by contracting, another by cutting off. And business so handled at several sittings or meetings goeth com monly backward and forward in an unsteady manner. I knew a wise man 5 that had it for a by-word, when he saw men hasten to a conclusion, Stay a little, that we may make an end the sooner.
On the other side, true dispatch is a rich thing. For time is the measure of business, as money is of wares; and business is bought at a dear hand 6 where there is small dispatch. The Spartans 7 and Spaniards 8 have been noted to be of small dispatch; Mi venga la muerte de Spagna; Let my death come from Spain; for then it will be sure to be long in coming.
Give good hearing to those that give the first infor mation in business; and rather direct them in the beginning than interrupt them in the continuance of their speeches; for he that is put out of his own order will go forward and backward, and be more tedious while he waits upon his memory, than he could have been if he had gone on in his own course. But some times it is seen that the moderator is more troublesome than the actor.
Iterations are commonly loss of time. But there is no such gain of time as to iterate often the state of the question; for it chaseth away many a frivolous speech as it is coming forth. Long and curious 9 speeches are as fit for dispatch, as a robe or mantle with a long train is for race. Prefaces and passages,10 and excusations, and other speeches of reference to the person, are great wastes of time; and though they seem to proceed of modesty, they are bravery.11 Yet beware of being too
OF SEEMING WISE 79
material 1Z when there is any impediment or obstruc tion in men's wills; for pre-occupation of mind ever requireth preface of speech ; like a fomentation to make the unguent enter.
Above all things, order, and distribution, and sin gling out of parts, is the life of dispatch; so as the distribution be not too subtle: for he that doth not divide will never enter well into business; and he that divideth too much will never come out of it clearly. To choose time is to save time; and an unseasonable motion is but beating the air. There be three parts of business; the preparation, the debate or examination, and the perfection. Whereof, if you look for dispatch, let the middle only be the work of many,13 and the first and last the work of few. The proceeding upon some what conceived in writing doth for the most part facili tate dispatch: for though it should be wholly rejected, yet that negative is more pregnant of direction than an indefinite; as ashes are more generative than dust.
XXVI
OF SEEMING WISE
IT hath been an opinion that the French are wiser than they seem, and the Spaniards seem wiser than they are. But howsoever it be between nations, cer tainly it is so between man and man. For as the Apostle 1 saith of godliness, Having a show of godliness, but denying the power thereof; so certainly there are in point of wisdom and sufficiency, that do nothing or little very solemnly: magno conatu2 nugas [with great effort, trifles]. It is a ridiculous thing and fit for a satire to persons of judgment, to see what shifts these formal ists have, and what prospectives 3 to make superficies
80 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
[a surface] to seem body that hath depth and bulk. Some are so close and reserved, as they will not show their wares but by a dark light; and seem always to keep back somewhat; and when they know within themselves they speak of that they do not well know, would nevertheless seem to others to know of that which they may not well speak. Some help themselves with countenance and gesture, and are wise by signs; as Cicero saith 4 of Piso, that when he answered him, he fetched one of his brows up to his forehead, and bent the other down to his chin; Respondes, altero ad frontem sublato, altero ad mentum depresso supercilio, crudelitatem tibi non placere [You answer, with one eyebrow lifted to the forehead and the other lowered to the chin, that cruelty does not please you]. Some think to bear it 5 by speaking a great word, and being peremptory; and go on, and take by admittance that which they cannot make good. Some, whatsoever is beyond their reach, will seem to despise or make light of it as impertinent or curious; and so would have their ignorance seem judgment. Some are never with out a difference, and commonly by amusing men with a subtilty, blanch the matter; 6 of whom A. Gellius saith,7 Hominem delirum, qui verborum minutiis rerum frangit pondera [A foolish man, that with verbal points and niceties breaks up the mass of matter]. Of which kind also, Plato 8 in his Protagoras bringeth in Prodi cus in scorn, and maketh him make a speech that con- sisteth of distinctions from the beginning to the end. Generally, such men in all deliberations find ease to be of the negative side, and affect a credit to object and foretell difficulties; for when propositions are denied, there is an end of them; but if they be allowed, it re- quireth a new work; which false point of wisdom is the
OF pprfiNDSHIP 81
bane of business. To conclude, there is no decaying merchant, or inward beggar, hath so many tricks to uphold the credit of their wealth, as these empty per sons have to maintain the credit of their sufficiency. Seeming wise men may make shift to get opinion; but let no man choose them for employment; for certainly you were better 9 take for business a man somewhat absurd 10 than over-formal.
XXVII
OF FRIENDSHIP
IT had been hard for him that spake 1 it to have put more truth and untruth together in few words, than in that speech, Whosoever is delighted in solitude is either a wild beast or a god. For it is most true that a natu ral and secret hatred and aversation towards society in any man, hath somewhat of the savage beast; but it is most untrue that it should have any character at all of the divine nature; except it proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but out of a love and desire to sequester a man's self for a higher conversation: such as is found to have been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathen; as Epimenides 2 the Candian, Numa 3 the Roman, Empedocles 4 the Sicilian, and Apollonius 5 of Tyana; and truly and really in divers of the ancieni hermits and holy fathers of the church. But little do men perceive what solitude is, and how far it extend- eth. For a crowd is not company; and faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal,8 where there is no love. The Latin adage meeteth with it a little: Magna1 civitas, magna solitudo [A great town is a great solitude] ; because in a great town friends are scattered; so that there is not that fellowship, for
82 THE ESSAYS OF IHANfCIS BACON
the most part, which is in less neighborhoods. But we may go further, and affirm most truly that it is a mere and miserable solitude to want true friends; without which the world is but a wilderness ; and even in this sense also of solitude, whosoever in the frame of his nature and affections is unfit for friendship, he taketh it of the beast, and not from humanity.
A principal fruit of friendship is the ease and dis charge of the fulness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do cause and induce. We know diseases of stoppings and suffocations are the most dan gerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind ; you may take sarza 8 to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flowers 9 of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt openeth the heart, but a true friend; to whom you may impart griefs, joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession.
It is a strange thing to observe how high a rate great kings and monarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship whereof we speak: so great, as they pur chase it many times at the hazard of their own safety and greatness. For princes, in regard of the distance of their fortune from that of their subjects and servants, cannot gather this fruit, except (to make themselves capable thereof) they raise some persons to be as it were companions and almost equals to themselves, which many times sorteth to inconvenience. The modern languages give unto such persons the name of favorites, or privadoes;10 as if it were matter of grace, or conversation. But the Roman name aitaincth the true use and cause thereof, naming them participes u curarum [partners of cares] ; for it is that which tieth
OF FRIENDSHIP 83
the knot. And we see plainly that this hath been done, not by weak and passionate princes only, but by the wisest and most politic that ever reigned; who have oftentimes joined to themselves some of their servants; whom both themselves have called friends, and allowed others likewise to call them in the same manner; using the word which is received between private men.
L. Sylla,12 when he commanded Rome, raised Pom- pey " (after surnamed the Great) to that height, that Pompey vaunted himself 14 for Sylla's over-match. For when he had carried the consulship for a friend of his,15 against the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a little resent thereat, and began to speak great, Pom pey turned upon him again, and in effect bade him Le quiet ;for that more men adored the sun rising than the sun setting. With Julius Caesar, Decimus Brutus had obtained that interest, as he set him down in his testa ment for heir in remainder after his nephew. And this was the man that had power with him to draw him forth to his death. For when Caesar 16 would have discharged the senate, in regard of some ill presages, and specially a dream of Calpurnia; this man lifted him gently by the arm out of his chair, telling him he hoped he would not dismiss the senate till his wife had dreamt a better dream. And it seemeth his favor was so great, as Antonius, in a letter which is recited verbatim in one of Cicero's Philippics,17 calleth him venefica, witch; as if he had enchanted Caesar. Augus tus raised Agrippa 18 (though of mean birth) to that height, as when he consulted with Maecenas about the marriage of his daughter Julia, Maecenas took the liberty to tell him, that he must either marry his daugh ter to Agrippa, or take away his life; there was no third way, he had made him so great. With Tiberius Caesar,
84 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
Sejanus 19 had ascended to that height, as they two were termed and reckoned as a pair of friends. Tibe rius in a letter 20 to him saith, H OEC pro amicitid nostrci nan occultavi [These things, as our friendship required, I have not concealed from you] ; and the whole senate dedicated an altar 21 to Friendship, as to a goddess, In respect of the great dearness of friendship between them two. The like or more was between Septimius Severus and Plautianus. For he forced his eldest son to marry the daughter of Plautianus; and would often maintain Plautianus in doing affronts to his son; and did write also in a letter to the senate, by these words : / love the man so well, as I wish he may over-live me. Now if these princes had been as a Trajan 22 or a Mar cus Aurelius,23 a man might have thought that this had proceeded of an abundant goodness of nature; but being men so wise, of such strength and severity of mind, and so extreme lovers of themselves, as all these were, it proveth most plainly that they found their own felicity (though as great as ever happened to mortal men) but as an half piece,24 except they mought have a friend to make it entire; and yet, which is more, they were princes that had wives, sons, nephews; and yet all these could not supply the comfort of friendship.
It is not. to be forgotten what Comineus 25 observeth of his first master, Duke Charles 2a the Hardy; namely* that he would communicate his secrets with none; an<i! least of all, those secrets which troubled him most. "Whereupon he goeth on and saith that towards his latter time that closeness did impair and a little perish his understanding. Surely Comineus mought have made the same judgment also, if it had pleased him, of his second master, Lewis27 the Eleventh, whose close ness was indeed his tormentor. The parable 28 of
OF FRIENDSHIP 85
Pythagoras is dark, but true; Cor ne edito: Eat not the heart. Certainly, if a man would give it a hard phrase, those that want friends to open themselves unto are cannibals of their own hearts. But one thing is most admirable (wherewith I will conclude this first fruif; of friendship), which is, that this communicating of a man's self to his friend works two contrary effects; for it redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves. For there is no man that imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more; and no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the less. So that it is in truth of operation upon a man's mind, of like virtue as the alchemists use to attribute to their stone 29 for man's body; that it worketh all contrary effects, but still to the good and benefit of nature. But yet without praying in aid of alchemists, there is a manifest image of this in the ordinary course of nature. For in bodies, union strengthened and cher- isheth any natural action ; and on the other side weak- eneth and dulleth any violent impression : and even so it is of minds.
The second fruit of friendship is healthful and sov ereign for the understanding, as the first is for the affections. For friendship maketh indeed a fair day in the affections, from storm and tempests; but it maketh daylight in the understanding, out of darkness and confusion of thoughts. Neither is this to be un derstood only of faithful counsel, which a man receiv- eth from his friend; but before you come to that, certain it is that whosoever hath his mind fraught with many thoughts, his wits and understanding do clarify and break up, in the communicating and discoursing with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily; he marshalleth them more orderly; he seeth how they
86 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
look when they are turned into words: finally, he waxeth wiser than himself ; and that more by an hour's discourse than by a day's meditation. It was well said by Themistocles 30 to the king of Persia, TJiat speech was like cloth of Arras,31 opened and put abroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in figure; whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs. Neither is this second fruit of friendship, in opening the under standing, restrained only to such friends as are able to give a man counsel; (they indeed are best;) but even without that, a man learneth of himself, and bringeth his own thoughts to light, and whetteth his wits as against a stone, which itself cuts not. In a word, a man were better relate himself to a statua or picture, than to suffer his thoughts to pass in smother.
Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship complete, that other point which lieth more open and falleth within vulgar observation; which is faithful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus 32 saith well in one of his enigmas, Dry light is ever the best. And certain it is, that the light that a man receiveth by counsel from another is drier and purer than that which cometh from his own understanding and judgment; which is ever infused and drenched in his affections and cus toms. So as there is as much difference between the counsel that a friend giveth, and that a man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend and of a flatterer. For there is no such flatterer as is a man's self; and there is no such remedy against flat tery of a man's self as the liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two sorts: the one concerning manners, the other concerning business. For the first, the best preserva tive to keep the mind in health is the faithful admo nition of a friend. The calling of a man's self to a
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strict account is a medicine, sometime, too piercing arid corrosive. Reading good books of morality is a little flat and dead. Observing our faults in others is some times improper for our case. But the best receipl (best, I say, to work, and best to take) is the admo nition of a friend. It is a strange thing to behold what gross errors and extreme absurdities many (especially of the greater sort) do commit, for want of a friend to tell them of them; to the great damage both of their fame and fortune j for, as St. James saith,33 they are as men that look sometimes into a glass, and presently forget their ou:n shape and favor. As for business, a man may think, if he will, that two eyes see no more than one; or that a gamester 84 seeth always more than a looker-on; or that a man in anger is as wise as he that hath said over the four and twenty 35 letters ; ar that a musket may be shot off as well upon the arm as upon a rest; and such other fond and high imagi nations, to think himself all in all. But when all is done, the help of good counsel is that which setteth business straight. And if any man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be by pieces; asking counsel in one business of one man, and in another business of another man; it is well (that is to say, better perhaps than if he asked none at all); but he runneth two dangers: one, that he shall not be faithfully coun selled; for it is a rare thing, except it be from a per fect and entire friend, to have counsel given, but such as shall be bowed and crooked to some ends which he hath that giveth it. The other, that he shall have counsel given, hurtful and unsafe (though with good meaning), and mixed partly of mischief and partly of remedy; even as if you would call a physician that is thought good for the cure of the disease you com-
88 THE ESSAYS OF FRANCIS BACON
plain of, but is unacquainted with your body; and therefore may put you in way for a present cure, but overthroweth your health in some other kind; and so cure the disease and kill the patient. But a friend that is wholly acquainted with a man's estate will be- ,vare, by furthering any present business, how he dash- 3th upon other inconvenience. And therefore rest not upon scattered counsels; they will rather distract and mislead, than settle and direct.
After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace in the affections, and support of the judgment), followeth the last fruit; which is like the pomegranate, full of many kernels; I mean aid and bearing a part in all actions and occasions. Here the best way to represent to life the manifold use of friendship is to cast and see how many things there are which a man cannot do himself; and then it will appear that it was a sparing speech of the ancients, to say, that a friend is another himself;30 for that a friend is far more than himself. Men have their time, and die many times in desire of some things which they principally take to heart; the bestowing of a child, the finishing of a work, or the like. If a man have a true friend, he may rest almost secure that the care of those things will continue after him. So that a man hath, as it were, two lives in his desires. A man hath a body, and that body is con fined to a place; but where friendship is, all offices of life are as it were granted to him and his deputy. For he may exercise them by his friend. How many things are there which a man cannot, with any face or comeliness, say or do himself? A man can scarce allege his own merits with modesty, much less extol them; a man cannot sometimes brook to supplicate or beg; and a number of the like. But all these things
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are graceful in a friend's mouth, which are blushing in a man's own. So again, a man's person hath many proper relations which he cannot put off. A man cannot speak to his son but as a father; to his wife but as a husband; to his enemy but upon terms: whereas a friend may speak as the case requires, and not as it sorteth with the person. But to enumerate these things were endless ; I have given the rule, w