{"collection":"philosophy-ethics","full_text_available":true,"graph_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/api/page/gutenberg_575/graph","html_url":"https://unchartedknowledge.5gfusion.net/v2/page/gutenberg_575","id":"gutenberg_575","license":"Public Domain (US)","rights_basis":"gutenberg_metadata_copyright_false","source":"gutenberg","source_url":"https://www.gutenberg.org/ebooks/575","summary":null,"tags":["Category: British Literature","Category: Essays, Letters & Speeches","Category: Philosophy & Ethics","English essays -- Early modern, 1500-1700","Harvard Classics"],"text":"Produced by Judith Boss\n\n\n\n\n\nTHE ESSAYS OR COUNSELS, CIVIL AND MORAL,\n\nOF FRANCIS Ld. VERULAM VISCOUNT ST. ALBANS\n\n\nBy Francis Bacon\n\n\nTHE ESSAYS\n\n     Of Truth\n     Of Death\n     Of Unity in Religion\n     Of Revenge\n     Of Adversity\n     Of Simulation and Dissimulation\n     Of Parents and Children\n     Of Marriage and Single Life\n     Of Envy\n     Of Love\n     Of Great Place\n     Of Boldness\n     Of Goodness and Goodness of Nature\n     Of Nobility\n     Of Seditions and Troubles\n     Of Atheism\n     Of Superstition\n     Of Travel\n     Of Empire\n     Of Counsel\n     Of Delays\n     Of Cunning\n     Of Wisdom for a Man's Self\n     Of Innovations\n     Of Dispatch\n     Of Seeming Wise\n     Of Friendship\n     Of Expense\n     Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms and Estates\n     Of Regiment of Health\n     Of Suspicion\n     Of Discourse\n     Of Plantations\n     Of Riches\n     Of Prophecies\n     Of Ambition\n     Of Masques and Triumphs\n     Of Nature in Men\n     Of Custom and Education\n     Of Fortune\n     Of Usury\n     Of Youth and Age\n     Of Beauty\n     Of Deformity\n     Of Building\n     Of Gardens\n     Of Negotiating\n     Of Followers and Friends\n     Of Suitors\n     Of Studies\n     Of Faction\n     Of Ceremonies and Respects\n     Of Praise\n     Of Vain-glory\n     Of Honor and Reputation\n     Of Judicature\n     Of Anger\n     Of Vicissitude of Things\n     Of Fame\n\n\nTO\n\nTHE RIGHT HONORABLE\n\nMY VERY GOOD LORD\n\nTHE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM\n\nHIS GRACE, LORD\n\nHIGH ADMIRAL OF ENGLAND\n\n\nEXCELLENT LORD:\n\nSALOMON saies; A good Name is as a precious oyntment; And I assure my\nselfe, such wil your Graces Name bee, with Posteritie. For your Fortune,\nand Merit both, have been Eminent. And you have planted Things, that\nare like to last. I doe now publish my Essayes; which, of all my other\nworkes, have beene most Currant: For that, as it seemes, they come home,\nto Mens Businesse, and Bosomes. I have enlarged them, both in Number,\nand Weight; So that they are indeed a New Worke. I thought it therefore\nagreeable, to my Affection, and Obligation to your Grace, to prefix your\nName before them, both in English, and in Latine. For I doe conceive,\nthat the Latine Volume of them, (being in the Universall Language) may\nlast, as long as Bookes last. My Instauration, I dedicated to the King:\nMy Historie of Henry the Seventh, (which I have now also translated into\nLatine) and my Portions of Naturall History, to the Prince: And these\nI dedicate to your Grace; Being of the best Fruits, that by the good\nEncrease, which God gives to my Pen and Labours, I could yeeld. God\nleade your Grace by the Hand. Your Graces most Obliged and faithfull\nServant,\n\nFR. ST. ALBAN\n\n\n\n\n\nOf Truth\n\n\nWHAT is truth? said jesting Pilate, and would not stay for an answer.\nCertainly there be, that delight in giddiness, and count it a bondage to\nfix a belief; affecting free-will in thinking, as well as in acting. And\nthough the sects of philosophers of that kind be gone, yet there remain\ncertain discoursing wits, which are of the same veins, though there be\nnot so much blood in them, as was in those of the ancients. But it is\nnot only the difficulty and labor, which men take in finding out\nof truth, nor again, that when it is found, it imposeth upon men's\nthoughts, that doth bring lies in favor; but a natural, though corrupt\nlove, of the lie itself. One of the later school of the Grecians,\nexamineth the matter, and is at a stand, to think what should be in it,\nthat men should love lies; where neither they make for pleasure, as with\npoets, nor for advantage, as with the merchant; but for the lie's sake.\nBut I cannot tell; this same truth, is a naked, and open day-light, that\ndoth not show the masks, and mummeries, and triumphs, of the world, half\nso stately and daintily as candle-lights. Truth may perhaps come to the\nprice of a pearl, that showeth best by day; but it will not rise to the\nprice of a diamond, or carbuncle, that showeth best in varied lights.\nA mixture of a lie doth ever add pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that if\nthere were taken out of men's minds, vain opinions, flattering hopes,\nfalse valuations, imaginations as one would, and the like, but it would\nleave the minds, of a number of men, poor shrunken things, full of\nmelancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves?\n\nOne of the fathers, in great severity, called poesy vinum daemonum,\nbecause it fireth the imagination; and yet, it is but with the shadow of\na lie. But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the\nlie that sinketh in, and settleth in it, that doth the hurt; such as we\nspake of before. But howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved\njudgments, and affections, yet truth, which only doth judge itself,\nteacheth that the inquiry of truth, which is the love-making, or wooing\nof it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the\nbelief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of\nhuman nature. The first creature of God, in the works of the days,\nwas the light of the sense; the last, was the light of reason; and his\nsabbath work ever since, is the illumination of his Spirit. First he\nbreathed light, upon the face of the matter or chaos; then he breathed\nlight, into the face of man; and still he breatheth and inspireth light,\ninto the face of his chosen. The poet, that beautified the sect, that\nwas otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well: It is a\npleasure, to stand upon the shore, and to see ships tossed upon the sea;\na pleasure, to stand in the window of a castle, and to see a battle,\nand the adventures thereof below: but no pleasure is comparable to the\nstanding upon the vantage ground of truth (a hill not to be commanded,\nand where the air is always clear and serene), and to see the errors,\nand wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below; so always\nthat this prospect be with pity, and not with swelling, or pride.\nCertainly, it is heaven upon earth, to have a man's mind move in\ncharity, rest in providence, and turn upon the poles of truth.\n\nTo pass from theological, and philosophical truth, to the truth of civil\nbusiness; it will be acknowledged, even by those that practise it not,\nthat clear, and round dealing, is the honor of man's nature; and that\nmixture of falsehoods, is like alloy in coin of gold and silver, which\nmay make the metal work the better, but it embaseth it. For these\nwinding, and crooked courses, are the goings of the serpent; which goeth\nbasely upon the belly, and not upon the feet. There is no vice, that\ndoth so cover a man with shame, as to be found false and perfidious. And\ntherefore Montaigne saith prettily, when he inquired the reason, why the\nword of the lie should be such a disgrace, and such an odious charge?\nSaith he, If it be well weighed, to say that a man lieth, is as much to\nsay, as that he is brave towards God, and a coward towards men. For a\nlie faces God, and shrinks from man. Surely the wickedness of falsehood,\nand breach of faith, cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in\nthat it shall be the last peal, to call the judgments of God upon the\ngenerations of men; it being foretold, that when Christ cometh, he shall\nnot find faith upon the earth.\n\n\n\n\nOf Death\n\n\nMEN fear death, as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural\nfear in children, is increased with tales, so is the other. Certainly,\nthe contemplation of death, as the wages of sin, and passage to another\nworld, is holy and religious; but the fear of it, as a tribute due\nunto nature, is weak. Yet in religious meditations, there is sometimes\nmixture of vanity, and of superstition. You shall read, in some of the\nfriars' books of mortification, that a man should think with himself,\nwhat the pain is, if he have but his finger's end pressed, or tortured,\nand thereby imagine, what the pains of death are, when the whole body is\ncorrupted, and dissolved; when many times death passeth, with less\npain than the torture of a limb; for the most vital parts, are not the\nquickest of sense. And by him that spake only as a philosopher, and\nnatural man, it was well said, Pompa mortis magis terret, quam mors\nipsa. Groans, and convulsions, and a discolored face, and friends\nweeping, and blacks, and obsequies, and the like, show death terrible.\nIt is worthy the observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man,\nso weak, but it mates, and masters, the fear of death; and therefore,\ndeath is no such terrible enemy, when a man hath so many attendants\nabout him, that can win the combat of him. Revenge triumphs over\ndeath; love slights it; honor aspireth to it; grief flieth to it;\nfear preoccupateth it; nay, we read, after Otho the emperor had slain\nhimself, pity (which is the tenderest of affections) provoked many to\ndie, out of mere compassion to their sovereign, and as the truest sort\nof followers. Nay, Seneca adds niceness and satiety: Cogita quamdiu\neadem feceris; mori velle, non tantum fortis aut miser, sed etiam\nfastidiosus potest. A man would die, though he were neither valiant, nor\nmiserable, only upon a weariness to do the same thing so oft, over and\nover. It is no less worthy, to observe, how little alteration in good\nspirits, the approaches of death make; for they appear to be the same\nmen, till the last instant. Augustus Caesar died in a compliment; Livia,\nconjugii nostri memor, vive et vale. Tiberius in dissimulation; as\nTacitus saith of him, Jam Tiberium vires et corpus, non dissimulatio,\ndeserebant. Vespasian in a jest, sitting upon the stool; Ut puto deus\nfio. Galba with a sentence; Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani; holding\nforth his neck. Septimius Severus in despatch; Adeste si quid mihi\nrestat agendum. And the like. Certainly the Stoics bestowed too much\ncost upon death, and by their great preparations, made it appear more\nfearful. Better saith he, qui finem vitae extremum inter munera ponat\nnaturae. It is as natural to die, as to be born; and to a little infant,\nperhaps, the one is as painful, as the other. He that dies in an earnest\npursuit, is like one that is wounded in hot blood; who, for the time,\nscarce feels the hurt; and therefore a mind fixed, and bent upon\nsomewhat that is good, doth avert the dolors of death. But, above all,\nbelieve it, the sweetest canticle is', Nunc dimittis; when a man hath\nobtained worthy ends, and expectations. Death hath this also; that\nit openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy.--Extinctus\namabitur idem.\n\n\n\n\nOf Unity In Religion\n\n\nRELIGION being the chief band of human society, it is a happy thing,\nwhen itself is well contained within the true band of unity. The\nquarrels, and divisions about religion, were evils unknown to the\nheathen. The reason was, because the religion of the heathen, consisted\nrather in rites and ceremonies, than in any constant belief. For you\nmay imagine, what kind of faith theirs was, when the chief doctors,\nand fathers of their church, were the poets. But the true God hath this\nattribute, that he is a jealous God; and therefore, his worship and\nreligion, will endure no mixture, nor partner. We shall therefore speak\na few words, concerning the unity of the church; what are the fruits\nthereof; what the bounds; and what the means.\n\nThe fruits of unity (next unto the well pleasing of God, which is all\nin all) are two: the one, towards those that are without the church,\nthe other, towards those that are within. For the former; it is certain,\nthat heresies, and schisms, are of all others the greatest scandals;\nyea, more than corruption of manners. For as in the natural body, a\nwound, or solution of continuity, is worse than a corrupt humor; so in\nthe spiritual. So that nothing, doth so much keep men out of the church,\nand drive men out of the church, as breach of unity. And therefore,\nwhensoever it cometh to that pass, that one saith, Ecce in deserto,\nanother saith, Ecce in penetralibus; that is, when some men seek Christ,\nin the conventicles of heretics, and others, in an outward face of a\nchurch, that voice had need continually to sound in men's ears, Nolite\nexire,--Go not out. The doctor of the Gentiles (the propriety of whose\nvocation, drew him to have a special care of those without) saith, if\nan heathen come in, and hear you speak with several tongues, will he not\nsay that you are mad? And certainly it is little better, when atheists,\nand profane persons, do hear of so many discordant, and contrary\nopinions in religion; it doth avert them from the church, and maketh\nthem, to sit down in the chair of the scorners. It is but a light thing,\nto be vouched in so serious a matter, but yet it expresseth well the\ndeformity. There is a master of scoffing, that in his catalogue of books\nof a feigned library, sets down this title of a book, The Morris-Dance\nof Heretics. For indeed, every sect of them, hath a diverse posture, or\ncringe by themselves, which cannot but move derision in worldlings, and\ndepraved politics, who are apt to contemn holy things.\n\nAs for the fruit towards those that are within; it is peace; which\ncontaineth infinite blessings. It establisheth faith; it kindleth\ncharity; the outward peace of the church, distilleth into peace of\nconscience; and it turneth the labors of writing, and reading of\ncontroversies, into treaties of mortification and devotion.\n\nConcerning the bounds of unity; the true placing of them, importeth\nexceedingly. There appear to be two extremes. For to certain zealants,\nall speech of pacification is odious. Is it peace, Jehu,? What hast\nthou to do with peace? turn thee behind me. Peace is not the matter,\nbut following, and party. Contrariwise, certain Laodiceans, and lukewarm\npersons, think they may accommodate points of religion, by middle way,\nand taking part of both, and witty reconcilements; as if they would\nmake an arbitrament between God and man. Both these extremes are to be\navoided; which will be done, if the league of Christians, penned by our\nSavior himself, were in two cross clauses thereof, soundly and plainly\nexpounded: He that is not with us, is against us; and again, He that is\nnot against us, is with us; that is, if the points fundamental and of\nsubstance in religion, were truly discerned and distinguished, from\npoints not merely of faith, but of opinion, order, or good intention.\nThis is a thing may seem to many a matter trivial, and done already. But\nif it were done less partially, it would be embraced more generally.\n\nOf this I may give only this advice, according to my small model.\nMen ought to take heed, of rending God's church, by two kinds of\ncontroversies. The one is, when the matter of the point controverted,\nis too small and light, not worth the heat and strife about it, kindled\nonly by contradiction. For, as it is noted, by one of the fathers,\nChrist's coat indeed had no seam, but the church's vesture was of divers\ncolors; whereupon he saith, In veste varietas sit, scissura non sit;\nthey be two things, unity and uniformity. The other is, when the matter\nof the point controverted, is great, but it is driven to an over-great\nsubtilty, and obscurity; so that it becometh a thing rather ingenious,\nthan substantial. A man that is of judgment and understanding, shall\nsometimes hear ignorant men differ, and know well within himself, that\nthose which so differ, mean one thing, and yet they themselves would\nnever agree. And if it come so to pass, in that distance of judgment,\nwhich is between man and man, shall we not think that God above, that\nknows the heart, doth not discern that frail men, in some of their\ncontradictions, intend the same thing; and accepteth of both? The nature\nof such controversies is excellently expressed, by St. Paul, in the\nwarning and precept, that he giveth concerning the same, Devita profanas\nvocum novitates, et oppositiones falsi nominis scientiae. Men create\noppositions, which are not; and put them into new terms, so fixed,\nas whereas the meaning ought to govern the term, the term in effect\ngoverneth the meaning. There be also two false peaces, or unities: the\none, when the peace is grounded, but upon an implicit ignorance; for all\ncolors will agree in the dark: the other, when it is pieced up, upon\na direct admission of contraries, in fundamental points. For truth and\nfalsehood, in such things, are like the iron and clay, in the toes of\nNebuchadnezzar's image; they may cleave, but they will not incorporate.\n\nConcerning the means of procuring unity; men must beware, that in the\nprocuring, or reuniting, of religious unity, they do not dissolve and\ndeface the laws of charity, and of human society. There be two swords\namongst Christians, the spiritual and temporal; and both have their due\noffice and place, in the maintenance of religion. But we may not take up\nthe third sword, which is Mahomet's sword, or like unto it; that is,\nto propagate religion by wars, or by sanguinary persecutions to force\nconsciences; except it be in cases of overt scandal, blasphemy, or\nintermixture of practice against the state; much less to nourish\nseditions; to authorize conspiracies and rebellions; to put the sword\ninto the people's hands; and the like; tending to the subversion of all\ngovernment, which is the ordinance of God. For this is but to dash the\nfirst table against the second; and so to consider men as Christians, as\nwe forget that they are men. Lucretius the poet, when he beheld the act\nof Agamemnon, that could endure the sacrificing of his own daughter,\nexclaimed: Tantum Religio potuit suadere malorum.\n\nWhat would he have said, if he had known of the massacre in France,\nor the powder treason of England? He would have been seven times more\nEpicure, and atheist, than he was. For as the temporal sword is to be\ndrawn with great circumspection in cases of religion; so it is a thing\nmonstrous to put it into the hands of the common people. Let that be\nleft unto the Anabaptists, and other furies. It was great blasphemy,\nwhen the devil said, I will ascend, and be like the highest; but it is\ngreater blasphemy, to personate God, and bring him in saying, I will\ndescend, and be like the prince of darkness; and what is it better,\nto make the cause of religion to descend, to the cruel and execrable\nactions of murthering princes, butchery of people, and subversion of\nstates and governments? Surely this is to bring down the Holy Ghost,\ninstead of the likeness of a dove, in the shape of a vulture or raven;\nand set, out of the bark of a Christian church, a flag of a bark of\npirates, and assassins. Therefore it is most necessary, that the church,\nby doctrine and decree, princes by their sword, and all learnings, both\nChristian and moral, as by their Mercury rod, do damn and send to hell\nfor ever, those facts and opinions tending to the support of the same;\nas hath been already in good part done. Surely in counsels concerning\nreligion, that counsel of the apostle would be prefixed, Ira hominis non\nimplet justitiam Dei. And it was a notable observation of a wise father,\nand no less ingenuously confessed; that those which held and persuaded\npressure of consciences, were commonly interested therein, themselves,\nfor their own ends.\n\n\n\n\nOf Revenge\n\n\nREVENGE is a kind of wild justice; which the more man's nature runs to,\nthe more ought law to weed it out. For as for the first wrong, it doth\nbut offend the law; but the revenge of that wrong, putteth the law out\nof office. Certainly, in taking revenge, a man is but even with his\nenemy; but in passing it over, he is superior; for it is a prince's part\nto pardon. And Solomon, I am sure, saith, It is the glory of a man, to\npass by an offence. That which is past is gone, and irrevocable; and\nwise men have enough to do, with things present and to come; therefore\nthey do but trifle with themselves, that labor in past matters. There\nis no man doth a wrong, for the wrong's sake; but thereby to purchase\nhimself profit, or pleasure, or honor, or the like. Therefore why should\nI be angry with a man, for loving himself better than me? And if any man\nshould do wrong, merely out of ill-nature, why, yet it is but like the\nthorn or briar, which prick and scratch, because they can do no other.\nThe most tolerable sort of revenge, is for those wrongs which there is\nno law to remedy; but then let a man take heed, the revenge be such as\nthere is no law to punish; else a man's enemy is still before hand, and\nit is two for one. Some, when they take revenge, are desirous, the\nparty should know, whence it cometh. This is the more generous. For the\ndelight seemeth to be, not so much in doing the hurt, as in making\nthe party repent. But base and crafty cowards, are like the arrow that\nflieth in the dark. Cosmus, duke of Florence, had a desperate saying\nagainst perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those wrongs were\nunpardonable; You shall read (saith he) that we are commanded to forgive\nour enemies; but you never read, that we are commanded to forgive our\nfriends. But yet the spirit of Job was in a better tune: Shall we (saith\nhe) take good at God's hands, and not be content to take evil also? And\nso of friends in a proportion. This is certain, that a man that studieth\nrevenge, keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal, and do\nwell. Public revenges are for the most part fortunate; as that for the\ndeath of Caesar; for the death of Pertinax; for the death of Henry the\nThird of France; and many more. But in private revenges, it is not so.\nNay rather, vindictive persons live the life of witches; who, as they\nare mischievous, so end they infortunate.\n\n\n\n\nOf Adversity\n\n\nIT WAS an high speech of Seneca (after the manner of the Stoics), that\nthe good things, which belong to prosperity, are to be wished; but the\ngood things, that belong to adversity, are to be admired. Bona rerum\nsecundarum optabilia; adversarum mirabilia. Certainly if miracles be the\ncommand over nature, they appear most in adversity. It is yet a higher\nspeech of his, than the other (much too high for a heathen), It is true\ngreatness, to have in one the frailty of a man, and the security of\na God. Vere magnum habere fragilitatem hominis, securitatem Dei. This\nwould have done better in poesy, where transcendences are more allowed.\nAnd the poets indeed have been busy with it; for it is in effect the\nthing, which figured in that strange fiction of the ancient poets, which\nseemeth not to be without mystery; nay, and to have some approach to the\nstate of a Christian; that Hercules, when he went to unbind Prometheus\n(by whom human nature is represented), sailed the length of the great\nocean, in an earthen pot or pitcher; lively describing Christian\nresolution, that saileth in the frail bark of the flesh, through the\nwaves of the world. But to speak in a mean. The virtue of prosperity,\nis temperance; the virtue of adversity, is fortitude; which in morals\nis the more heroical virtue. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old\nTestament; adversity is the blessing of the New; which carrieth the\ngreater benediction, and the clearer revelation of God's favor. Yet even\nin the Old Testament, if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as\nmany hearse-like airs as carols; and the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath\nlabored more in describing the afflictions of Job, than the felicities\nof Solomon. Prosperity is not without many fears and distastes; and\nadversity is not without comforts and hopes. We see in needle-works and\nembroideries, it is more pleasing to have a lively work, upon a sad and\nsolemn ground, than to have a dark and melancholy work, upon a lightsome\nground: judge therefore of the pleasure of the heart, by the pleasure\nof the eye. Certainly virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when\nthey are incensed, or crushed: for prosperity doth best discover vice,\nbut adversity doth best discover virtue.\n\n\n\n\nOf Simulation And Dissimulation\n\n\nDISSIMULATION is but a faint kind of policy, or wisdom; for it asketh\na strong wit, and a strong heart, to know when to tell truth, and to\ndo it. Therefore it is the weaker sort of politics, that are the great\ndissemblers.\n\nTacitus saith, Livia sorted well with the arts of her husband, and\ndissimulation of her son; attributing arts or policy to Augustus,\nand dissimulation to Tiberius. And again, when Mucianus encourageth\nVespasian, to take arms against Vitellius, he saith, We rise not against\nthe piercing judgment of Augustus, nor the extreme caution or closeness\nof Tiberius. These properties, of arts or policy, and dissimulation\nor closeness, are indeed habits and faculties several, and to be\ndistinguished. For if a man have that penetration of judgment, as he can\ndiscern what things are to be laid open, and what to be secreted, and\nwhat to be showed at half lights, and to whom and when (which indeed are\narts of state, and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them), to him,\na habit of dissimulation is a hinderance and a poorness. But if a man\ncannot obtain to that judgment, then it is left to him generally, to\nbe close, and a dissembler. For where a man cannot choose, or vary in\nparticulars, there it is good to take the safest, and wariest way, in\ngeneral; like the going softly, by one that cannot well see. Certainly\nthe ablest men that ever were, have had all an openness, and frankness,\nof dealing; and a name of certainty and veracity; but then they were\nlike horses well managed; for they could tell passing well, when to stop\nor turn; and at such times, when they thought the case indeed required\ndissimulation, if then they used it, it came to pass that the former\nopinion, spread abroad, of their good faith and clearness of dealing,\nmade them almost invisible.\n\nThere be three degrees of this hiding and veiling of a man's self. The\nfirst, closeness, reservation, and secrecy; when a man leaveth himself\nwithout observation, or without hold to be taken, what he is. The\nsecond, dissimulation, in the negative; when a man lets fall signs and\narguments, that he is not, that he is. And the third, simulation, in the\naffirmative; when a man industriously and expressly feigns and pretends\nto be, that he is not.\n\nFor the first of these, secrecy; it is indeed the virtue of a confessor.\nAnd assuredly, the secret man heareth many confessions. For who will\nopen himself, to a blab or a babbler? But if a man be thought secret, it\ninviteth discovery; as the more close air sucketh in the more open; and\nas in confession, the revealing is not for worldly use, but for the ease\nof a man's heart, so secret men come to the knowledge of many things\nin that kind; while men rather discharge their minds, than impart their\nminds. In few words, mysteries are due to secrecy. Besides (to say\ntruth) nakedness is uncomely, as well in mind as body; and it addeth no\nsmall reverence, to men's manners and actions, if they be not altogether\nopen. As for talkers and futile persons, they are commonly vain and\ncredulous withal. For he that talketh what he knoweth, will also talk\nwhat he knoweth not. Therefore set it down, that an habit of secrecy, is\nboth politic and moral. And in this part, it is good that a man's face\ngive his tongue leave to speak. For the discovery of a man' s self, by\nthe tracts of his countenance, is a great weakness and betraying; by how\nmuch it is many times more marked, and believed, than a man's words.\n\nFor the second, which is dissimulation; it followeth many times upon\nsecrecy, by a necessity; so that he that will be secret, must be a\ndissembler in some degree. For men are too cunning, to suffer a man to\nkeep an indifferent carriage between both, and to be secret, without\nswaying the balance on either side. They will so beset a man with\nquestions, and draw him on, and pick it out of him, that, without an\nabsurd silence, he must show an inclination one way; or if he do not,\nthey will gather as much by his silence, as by his speech. As for\nequivocations, or oraculous speeches, they cannot hold out long. So\nthat no man can be secret, except he give himself a little scope of\ndissimulation; which is, as it were, but the skirts or train of secrecy.\n\nBut for the third degree, which is simulation, and false profession;\nthat I hold more culpable, and less politic; except it be in great and\nrare matters. And therefore a general custom of simulation (which is\nthis last degree) is a vice, using either of a natural falseness or\nfearfulness, or of a mind that hath some main faults, which because\na man must needs disguise, it maketh him practise simulation in other\nthings, lest his hand should be out of use.\n\nThe great advantages of simulation and dissimulation are three. First,\nto lay asleep opposition, and to surprise. For where a man's intentions\nare published, it is an alarum, to call up all that are against them.\nThe second is, to reserve to a man's self a fair retreat. For if a man\nengage himself by a manifest declaration, he must go through or take a\nfall. The third is, the better to discover the mind of another. For to\nhim that opens himself, men will hardly show themselves adverse; but\nwill fair let him go on, and turn their freedom of speech, to freedom of\nthought. And therefore it is a good shrewd proverb of the Spaniard, Tell\na lie and find a troth. As if there were no way of discovery, but by\nsimulation. There be also three disadvantages, to set it even. The\nfirst, that simulation and dissimulation commonly carry with them a show\nof fearfulness, which in any business, doth spoil the feathers, of round\nflying up to the mark. The second, that it puzzleth and perplexeth the\nconceits of many, that perhaps would otherwise co-operate with him; and\nmakes a man walk almost alone, to his own ends. The third and greatest\nis, that it depriveth a man of one of the most principal instruments for\naction; which is trust and belief. The best composition and temperature,\nis to have openness in fame and opinion; secrecy in habit; dissimulation\nin seasonable use; and a power to feign, if there be no remedy.\n\n\n\n\nOf Parents And Children\n\n\nTHE joys of parents are secret; and so are their griefs and fears.\nThey cannot utter the one; nor they will not utter the other. Children\nsweeten labors; but they make misfortunes more bitter. They increase\nthe cares of life; but they mitigate the remembrance of death. The\nperpetuity by generation is common to beasts; but memory, merit, and\nnoble works, are proper to men. And surely a man shall see the noblest\nworks and foundations have proceeded from childless men; which have\nsought to express the images of their minds, where those of their bodies\nhave failed. So the care of posterity is most in them, that have no\nposterity. They that are the first raisers of their houses, are most\nindulgent towards their children; beholding them as the continuance,\nnot only of their kind, but of their work; and so both children and\ncreatures.\n\nThe difference in affection, of parents towards their several children,\nis many times unequal; and sometimes unworthy; especially in the\nmothers; as Solomon saith, A wise son rejoiceth the father, but an\nungracious son shames the mother. A man shall see, where there is a\nhouse full of children, one or two of the eldest respected, and the\nyoungest made wantons; but in the midst, some that are as it\nwere forgotten, who many times, nevertheless, prove the best. The\nilliberality of parents, in allowance towards their children, is an\nharmful error; makes them base; acquaints them with shifts; makes them\nsort with mean company; and makes them surfeit more when they come to\nplenty. And therefore the proof is best, when men keep their authority\ntowards the children, but not their purse. Men have a foolish manner\n(both parents and schoolmasters and servants) in creating and breeding\nan emulation between brothers, during childhood, which many times\nsorteth to discord when they are men, and disturbeth families. The\nItalians make little difference between children, and nephews or near\nkinsfolks; but so they be of the lump, they care not though they pass\nnot through their own body. And, to say truth, in nature it is much\na like matter; insomuch that we see a nephew sometimes resembleth an\nuncle, or a kinsman, more than his own parent; as the blood happens.\nLet parents choose betimes, the vocations and courses they mean their\nchildren should take; for then they are most flexible; and let them\nnot too much apply themselves to the disposition of their children, as\nthinking they will take best to that, which they have most mind to.\nIt is true, that if the affection or aptness of the children be\nextraordinary, then it is good not to cross it; but generally the\nprecept is good, optimum elige, suave et facile illud faciet consuetudo.\nYounger brothers are commonly fortunate, but seldom or never where the\nelder are disinherited.\n\n\n\n\nOf Marriage And Single Life\n\n\nHE THAT hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune; for they\nare impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief.\nCertainly the best works, and of greatest merit for the public, have\nproceeded from the unmarried or childless men; which both in affection\nand means, have married and endowed the public. Yet it were great reason\nthat those that have children, should have greatest care of future\ntimes; unto which they know they must transmit their dearest pledges.\nSome there are, who though they lead a single life, yet their thoughts\ndo end with themselves, and account future times impertinences. Nay,\nthere are some other, that account wife and children, but as bills of\ncharges. Nay more, there are some foolish rich covetous men, that take\na pride, in having no children, because they may be thought so much the\nricher. For perhaps they have heard some talk, Such an one is a great\nrich man, and another except to it, Yea, but he hath a great charge\nof children; as if it were an abatement to his riches. But the most\nordinary cause of a single life, is liberty, especially in certain\nself-pleasing and humorous minds, which are so sensible of every\nrestraint, as they will go near to think their girdles and garters, to\nbe bonds and shackles. Unmarried men are best friends, best masters,\nbest servants; but not always best subjects; for they are light to run\naway; and almost all fugitives, are of that condition. A single life\ndoth well with churchmen; for charity will hardly water the ground,\nwhere it must first fill a pool. It is indifferent for judges and\nmagistrates; for if they be facile and corrupt, you shall have a\nservant, five times worse than a wife. For soldiers, I find the generals\ncommonly in their hortatives, put men in mind of their wives and\nchildren; and I think the despising of marriage amongst the Turks,\nmaketh the vulgar soldier more base. Certainly wife and children are a\nkind of discipline of humanity; and single men, though they may be many\ntimes more charitable, because their means are less exhaust, yet, on\nthe other side, they are more cruel and hardhearted (good to make severe\ninquisitors), because their tenderness is not so oft called upon. Grave\nnatures, led by custom, and therefore constant, are commonly loving\nhusbands, as was said of Ulysses, vetulam suam praetulit immortalitati.\nChaste women are often proud and froward, as presuming upon the merit\nof their chastity. It is one of the best bonds, both of chastity and\nobedience, in the wife, if she think her husband wise; which she will\nnever do, if she find him jealous. Wives are young men's mistresses;\ncompanions for middle age; and old men's nurses. So as a man may have a\nquarrel to marry, when he will. But yet he was reputed one of the wise\nmen, that made answer to the question, when a man should marry,--A\nyoung man not yet, an elder man not at all. It is often seen that bad\nhusbands, have very good wives; whether it be, that it raiseth the price\nof their husband's kindness, when it comes; or that the wives take a\npride in their patience. But this never fails, if the bad husbands were\nof their own choosing, against their friends' consent; for then they\nwill be sure to make good their own folly.\n\n\n\n\nOf Envy\n\n\nTHERE be none of the affections, which have been noted to fascinate or\nbewitch, but love and envy. They both have vehement wishes; they frame\nthemselves readily into imaginations and suggestions; and they come\neasily into the eye, especially upon the present of the objects; which\nare the points that conduce to fascination, if any such thing there\nbe. We see likewise, the Scripture calleth envy an evil eye; and the\nastrologers, call the evil influences of the stars, evil aspects; so\nthat still there seemeth to be acknowledged, in the act of envy, an\nejaculation or irradiation of the eye. Nay, some have been so curious,\nas to note, that the times when the stroke or percussion of an envious\neye doth most hurt, are when the party envied is beheld in glory or\ntriumph; for that sets an edge upon envy: and besides, at such times the\nspirits of the person envied, do come forth most into the outward parts,\nand so meet the blow.\n\nBut leaving these curiosities (though not unworthy to be thought on, in\nfit place), we will handle, what persons are apt to envy others; what\npersons are most subject to be envied themselves; and what is the\ndifference between public and private envy.\n\nA man that hath no virtue in himself, ever envieth virtue in others. For\nmen's minds, will either feed upon their own good, or upon others' evil;\nand who wanteth the one, will prey upon the other; and whoso is out of\nhope, to attain to another's virtue, will seek to come at even hand, by\ndepressing another's fortune.\n\nA man that is busy, and inquisitive, is commonly envious. For to know\nmuch of other men's matters, cannot be because all that ado may concern\nhis own estate; therefore it must needs be, that he taketh a kind of\nplay-pleasure, in looking upon the fortunes of others. Neither can he,\nthat mindeth but his own business, find much matter for envy. For envy\nis a gadding passion, and walketh the streets, and doth not keep home:\nNon est curiosus, quin idem sit malevolus.\n\nMen of noble birth, are noted to be envious towards new men, when they\nrise. For the distance is altered, and it is like a deceit of the eye,\nthat when others come on, they think themselves, go back.\n\nDeformed persons, and eunuchs, and old men, and bastards, are envious.\nFor he that cannot possibly mend his own case, will do what he can,\nto impair another's; except these defects light upon a very brave, and\nheroical nature, which thinketh to make his natural wants part of his\nhonor; in that it should be said, that an eunuch, or a lame man, did\nsuch great matters; affecting the honor of a miracle; as it was in\nNarses the eunuch, and Agesilaus and Tamberlanes, that were lame men.\n\nThe same is the case of men, that rise after calamities and misfortunes.\nFor they are as men fallen out with the times; and think other men's\nharms, a redemption of their own sufferings.\n\nThey that desire to excel in too many matters, out of levity and vain\nglory, are ever envious. For they cannot want work; it being impossible,\nbut many, in some one of those things, should surpass them. Which was\nthe character of Adrian the Emperor; that mortally envied poets, and\npainters, and artificers, in works wherein he had a vein to excel.\n\nLastly, near kinsfolks, and fellows in office, and those that have been\nbred together, are more apt to envy their equals, when they are raised.\nFor it doth upbraid unto them their own fortunes, and pointeth at them,\nand cometh oftener into their remembrance, and incurreth likewise more\ninto the note of others; and envy ever redoubleth from speech and fame.\nCain's envy was the more vile and malignant, towards his brother Abel,\nbecause when his sacrifice was better accepted, there was no body to\nlook on. Thus much for those, that are apt to envy.\n\nConcerning those that are more or less subject to envy: First, persons\nof eminent virtue, when they are advanced, are less envied. For their\nfortune seemeth, but due unto them; and no man envieth the payment of a\ndebt, but rewards and liberality rather. Again, envy is ever joined\nwith the comparing of a man's self; and where there is no comparison, no\nenvy; and therefore kings are not envied, but by kings. Nevertheless it\nis to be noted, that unworthy persons are most envied, at their first\ncoming in, and afterwards overcome it better; whereas contrariwise,\npersons of worth and merit are most envied, when their fortune\ncontinueth long. For by that time, though their virtue be the same, yet\nit hath not the same lustre; for fresh men grow up that darken it.\n\nPersons of noble blood, are less envied in their rising. For it seemeth\nbut right done to their birth. Besides, there seemeth not much added\nto their fortune; and envy is as the sunbeams, that beat hotter upon a\nbank, or steep rising ground, than upon a flat. And for the same reason,\nthose that are advanced by degrees, are less envied than those that are\nadvanced suddenly and per saltum.\n\nThose that have joined with their honor great travels, cares, or perils,\nare less subject to envy. For men think that they earn their honors\nhardly, and pity them sometimes; and pity ever healeth envy. Wherefore\nyou shall observe, that the more deep and sober sort of politic persons,\nin their greatness, are ever bemoaning themselves, what a life they\nlead; chanting a quanta patimur! Not that they feel it so, but only to\nabate the edge of envy. But this is to be understood, of business\nthat is laid upon men, and not such, as they call unto themselves.\nFor nothing increaseth envy more, than an unnecessary and ambitious\nengrossing of business. And nothing doth extinguish envy more, than for\na great person to preserve all other inferior officers, in their full\nlights and pre-eminences of their places. For by that means, there be so\nmany screens between him and envy.\n\nAbove all, those are most subject to envy, which carry the greatness of\ntheir fortunes, in an insolent and proud manner; being never well, but\nwhile they are showing how great they are, either by outward pomp, or\nby triumphing over all opposition or competition; whereas wise men\nwill rather do sacrifice to envy, in suffering themselves sometimes of\npurpose to be crossed, and overborne in things that do not much concern\nthem. Notwithstanding, so much is true, that the carriage of greatness,\nin a plain and open manner (so it be without arrogancy and vain glory)\ndoth draw less envy, than if it be in a more crafty and cunning fashion.\nFor in that course, a man doth but disavow fortune; and seemeth to be\nconscious of his own want in worth; and doth but teach others, to envy\nhim.\n\nLastly, to conclude this part; as we said in the beginning, that the act\nof envy had somewhat in it of witchcraft, so there is no other cure of\nenvy, but the cure of witchcraft; and that is, to remove the lot (as\nthey call it) and to lay it upon another. For which purpose, the wiser\nsort of great persons, bring in ever upon the stage somebody upon whom\nto derive the envy, that would come upon themselves; sometimes upon\nministers and servants; sometimes upon colleagues and associates; and\nthe like; and for that turn there are never wanting, some persons\nof violent and undertaking natures, who, so they may have power and\nbusiness, will take it at any cost.\n\nNow, to speak of public envy. There is yet some good in public envy,\nwhereas in private, there is none. For public envy, is as an ostracism,\nthat eclipseth men, when they grow too great. And therefore it is a\nbridle also to great ones, to keep them within bounds.\n\nThis envy, being in the Latin word invidia, goeth in the modern\nlanguage, by the name of discontentment; of which we shall speak, in\nhandling sedition. It is a disease, in a state, like to infection. For\nas infection spreadeth upon that which is sound, and tainteth it;\nso when envy is gotten once into a state, it traduceth even the best\nactions thereof, and turneth them into an ill odor. And therefore there\nis little won, by intermingling of plausible actions. For that doth\nargue but a weakness, and fear of envy, which hurteth so much the more,\nas it is likewise usual in infections; which if you fear them, you call\nthem upon you.\n\nThis public envy, seemeth to beat chiefly upon principal officers or\nministers, rather than upon kings, and estates themselves. But this is\na sure rule, that if the envy upon the minister be great, when the cause\nof it in him is small; or if the envy be general, in a manner upon all\nthe ministers of an estate; then the envy (though hidden) is truly upon\nthe state itself. And so much of public envy or discontentment, and the\ndifference thereof from private envy, which was handled in the first\nplace.\n\nWe will add this in general, touching the affection of envy; that of all\nother affections, it is the most importune and continual. For of other\naffections, there is occasion given, but now and then; and therefore it\nwas well said, Invidia festos dies non agit: for it is ever working upon\nsome or other. And it is also noted, that love and envy do make a man\npine, which other affections do not, because they are not so continual.\nIt is also the vilest affection, and the most depraved; for which cause\nit is the proper attribute of the devil, who is called, the envious man,\nthat soweth tares amongst the wheat by night; as it always cometh to\npass, that envy worketh subtilly, and in the dark, and to the prejudice\nof good things, such as is the wheat.\n\n\n\n\nOf Love\n\n\nTHE stage is more beholding to love, than the life of man. For as to the\nstage, love is ever matter of comedies, and now and then of tragedies;\nbut in life it doth much mischief; sometimes like a siren, sometimes\nlike a fury. You may observe, that amongst all the great and worthy\npersons (whereof the memory remaineth, either ancient or recent) there\nis not one, that hath been transported to the mad degree of love: which\nshows that great spirits, and great business, do keep out this weak\npassion. You must except, nevertheless, Marcus Antonius, the half\npartner of the empire of Rome, and Appius Claudius, the decemvir\nand lawgiver; whereof the former was indeed a voluptuous man, and\ninordinate; but the latter was an austere and wise man: and therefore it\nseems (though rarely) that love can find entrance, not only into an open\nheart, but also into a heart well fortified, if watch be not well kept.\nIt is a poor saying of Epicurus, Satis magnum alter alteri theatrum\nsumus; as if man, made for the contemplation of heaven, and all noble\nobjects, should do nothing but kneel before a little idol, and make\nhimself a subject, though not of the mouth (as beasts are), yet of the\neye; which was given him for higher purposes. It is a strange thing, to\nnote the excess of this passion, and how it braves the nature, and\nvalue of things, by this; that the speaking in a perpetual hyperbole, is\ncomely in nothing but in love. Neither is it merely in the phrase; for\nwhereas it hath been well said, that the arch-flatterer, with whom all\nthe petty flatterers have intelligence, is a man's self; certainly the\nlover is more. For there was never proud man thought so absurdly well\nof himself, as the lover doth of the person loved; and therefore it was\nwell said, That it is impossible to love, and to be wise. Neither doth\nthis weakness appear to others only, and not to the party loved; but to\nthe loved most of all, except the love be reciproque. For it is a true\nrule, that love is ever rewarded, either with the reciproque, or with an\ninward and secret contempt. By how much the more, men ought to beware of\nthis passion, which loseth not only other things, but itself! As for the\nother losses, the poet's relation doth well figure them: that he that\npreferred Helena, quitted the gifts of Juno and Pallas. For whosoever\nesteemeth too much of amorous affection, quitteth both riches and\nwisdom. This passion hath his floods, in very times of weakness; which\nare great prosperity, and great adversity; though this latter hath been\nless observed: both which times kindle love, and make it more fervent,\nand therefore show it to be the child of folly. They do best, who if\nthey cannot but admit love, yet make it keep quarters; and sever it\nwholly from their serious affairs, and actions, of life; for if it check\nonce with business, it troubleth men's fortunes, and maketh men, that\nthey can no ways be true to their own ends. I know not how, but martial\nmen are given to love: I think, it is but as they are given to wine; for\nperils commonly ask to be paid in pleasures. There is in man's nature,\na secret inclination and motion, towards love of others, which if it be\nnot spent upon some one or a few, doth naturally spread itself towards\nmany, and maketh men become humane and charitable; as it is seen\nsometime in friars. Nuptial love maketh mankind; friendly love\nperfecteth it; but wanton love corrupteth, and embaseth it.\n\n\n\n\nOf Great Place\n\n\nMEN in great place are thrice servants: servants of the sovereign or\nstate; servants of fame; and servants of business. So as they have no\nfreedom; neither in their persons, nor in their actions, nor in their\ntimes. It is a strange desire, to seek power and to lose liberty: or to\nseek power over others, and to lose power over a man's self. The rising\nunto place is laborious; and by pains, men come to greater pains; and\nit is sometimes base; and by indignities, men come to dignities. The\nstanding is slippery, and the regress is either a downfall, or at least\nan eclipse, which is a melancholy thing. Cum non sis qui fueris, non\nesse cur velis vivere. Nay, retire men cannot when they would, neither\nwill they, when it were reason; but are impatient of privateness, even\nin age and sickness, which require the shadow; like old townsmen, that\nwill be still sitting at their street door, though thereby they offer\nage to scom. Certainly great persons had need to borrow other men's\nopinions, to think themselves happy; for if they judge by their own\nfeeling, they cannot find it; but if they think with themselves, what\nother men think of them, and that other men would fain be, as they are,\nthen they are happy, as it were, by report; when perhaps they find the\ncontrary within. For they are the first, that find their own griefs,\nthough they be the last, that find their own faults. Certainly men in\ngreat fortunes are strangers to themselves, and while they are in the\npuzzle of business, they have no time to tend their health, either of\nbody or mind. Illi mors gravis incubat, qui notus nimis omnibus, ignotus\nmoritur sibi. In place, there is license to do good, and evil; whereof\nthe latter is a curse: for in evil, the best condition is not to win;\nthe second, not to can. But power to do good, is the true and lawful\nend of aspiring. For good thoughts (though God accept them) yet, towards\nmen, are little better than good dreams, except they be put in act; and\nthat cannot be, without power and place, as the vantage, and commanding\nground. Merit and good works, is the end of man's motion; and conscience\nof the same is the accomplishment of man's rest. For if a man can be\npartaker of God's theatre, he shall likewise be partaker of God's rest.\nEt conversus Deus, ut aspiceret opera quae fecerunt manus suae, vidit\nquod omnia essent bona nimis; and then the sabbath. In the discharge of\nthy place, set before thee the best examples; for imitation is a globe\nof precepts. And after a time, set before thee thine own example; and\nexamine thyself strictly, whether thou didst not best at first. Neglect\nnot also the examples, of those that have carried themselves ill, in\nthe same place; not to set off thyself, by taxing their memory, but to\ndirect thyself, what to avoid. Reform therefore, without bravery, or\nscandal of former times and persons; but yet set it down to thyself, as\nwell to create good precedents, as to follow them. Reduce things to the\nfirst institution, and observe wherein, and how, they have degenerate;\nbut yet ask counsel of both times; of the ancient time, what is best;\nand of the latter time, what is fittest. Seek to make thy course\nregular, that men may know beforehand, what they may expect; but be\nnot too positive and peremptory; and express thyself well, when thou\ndigressest from thy rule. Preserve the right of thy place; but stir not\nquestions of jurisdiction; and rather assume thy right, in silence and\nde facto, than voice it with claims, and challenges. Preserve likewise\nthe rights of inferior places; and think it more honor, to direct in\nchief, than to be busy in all. Embrace and invite helps, and advices,\ntouching the execution of thy place; and do not drive away such, as\nbring thee information, as meddlers; but accept of them in good part.\nThe vices of authority are chiefly four: delays, corruption, roughness,\nand facility. For delays: give easy access; keep times appointed; go\nthrough with that which is in hand, and interlace not business, but\nof necessity. For corruption: do not only bind thine own hands, or thy\nservants' hands, from taking, but bind the hands of suitors also, from\noffering. For integrity used doth the one; but integrity professed, and\nwith a manifest detestation of bribery, doth the other. And avoid not\nonly the fault, but the suspicion. Whosoever is found variable,\nand changeth manifestly without manifest cause, giveth suspicion of\ncorruption. Therefore always, when thou changest thine opinion or\ncourse, profess it plainly, and declare it, together with the reasons\nthat move thee to change; and do not think to steal it. A servant or\na favorite, if he be inward, and no other apparent cause of esteem, is\ncommonly thought, but a by-way to close corruption. For roughness: it\nis a needless cause of discontent: severity breedeth fear, but roughness\nbreedeth hate. Even reproofs from authority, ought to be grave, and not\ntaunting. As for facility: it is worse than bribery. For bribes come but\nnow and then; but if importunity, or idle respects, lead a man, he shall\nnever be without. As Solomon saith, To respect persons is not good; for\nsuch a man will transgress for a piece of bread. It is most true, that\nwas anciently spoken, A place showeth the man. And it showeth some to\nthe better, and some to the worse. Omnium consensu capax imperii, nisi\nimperasset, saith Tacitus of Galba; but of Vespasian he saith, Solus\nimperantium, Vespasianus mutatus in melius; though the one was meant of\nsufficiency, the other of manners, and affection. It is an assured sign\nof a worthy and generous spirit, whom honor amends. For honor is, or\nshould be, the place of virtue; and as in nature, things move violently\nto their place, and calmly in their place, so virtue in ambition is\nviolent, in authority settled and calm. All rising to great place is\nby a winding star; and if there be factions, it is good to side a man's\nself, whilst he is in the rising, and to balance himself when he is\nplaced. Use the memory of thy predecessor, fairly and tenderly; for if\nthou dost not, it is a debt will sure be paid when thou art gone. If\nthou have colleagues, respect them, and rather call them, when they\nlook not for it, than exclude them, when they have reason to look to\nbe called. Be not too sensible, or too remembering, of thy place in\nconversation, and private answers to suitors; but let it rather be said,\nWhen he sits in place, he is another man.\n\n\n\n\nOf Boldness\n\n\nIT IS a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worthy a wise man's\nconsideration. Question was asked of Demosthenes, what was the chief\npart of an orator? he answered, action; what next? action; what next\nagain? action. He said it, that knew it best, and had, by nature,\nhimself no advantage in that he commended. A strange thing, that that\npart of an orator, which is but superficial, and rather the virtue of\na player, should be placed so high, above those other noble parts, of\ninvention, elocution, and the rest; nay, almost alone, as if it were\nall in all. But the reason is plain. There is in human nature generally,\nmore of the fool than of the wise; and therefore those faculties,\nby which the foolish part of men's minds is taken, are most potent.\nWonderful like is the case of boldness in civil business: what first?\nboldness; what second and third? boldness. And yet boldness is a child\nof ignorance and baseness, far inferior to other parts. But nevertheless\nit doth fascinate, and bind hand and foot, those that are either shallow\nin judgment, or weak in courage, which are the greatest part; yea and\nprevaileth with wise men at weak times. Therefore we see it hath done\nwonders, in popular states; but with senates, and princes less; and\nmore ever upon the first entrance of bold persons into action, than soon\nafter; for boldness is an ill keeper of promise. Surely, as there are\nmountebanks for the natural body, so are there mountebanks for the\npolitic body; men that undertake great cures, and perhaps have been\nlucky, in two or three experiments, but want the grounds of science, and\ntherefore cannot hold out. Nay, you shall see a bold fellow many times\ndo Mahomet's miracle. Mahomet made the people believe that he would call\nan hill to him, and from the top of it offer up his prayers, for the\nobservers of his law. The people assembled; Mahomet called the hill\nto come to him, again and again; and when the hill stood still, he was\nnever a whit abashed, but said, If the hill will not come to Mahomet,\nMahomet will go to the hill. So these men, when they have promised great\nmatters, and failed most shamefully, yet (if they have the perfection\nof boldness) they will but slight it over, and make a turn, and no more\nado. Certainly to men of great judgment, bold persons are a sport\nto behold; nay, and to the vulgar also, boldness has somewhat of the\nridiculous. For if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you not\nbut great boldness is seldom without some absurdity. Especially it is\na sport to see, when a bold fellow is out of countenance; for that puts\nhis face into a most shrunken, and wooden posture; as needs it must; for\nin bashfulness, the spirits do a little go and come; but with bold men,\nupon like occasion, they stand at a stay; like a stale at chess, where\nit is no mate, but yet the game cannot stir. But this last were fitter\nfor a satire than for a serious observation. This is well to be\nweighed; that boldness is ever blind; for it seeth not danger, and\ninconveniences. Therefore it is ill in counsel, good in execution; so\nthat the right use of bold persons is, that they never command in chief,\nbut be seconds, and under the direction of others. For in counsel, it is\ngood to see dangers; and in execution, not to see them, except they be\nvery great.\n\n\n\n\nOf Goodness and Goodness Of Nature\n\n\nI TAKE goodness in this sense, the affecting of the weal of men, which\nis that the Grecians call philanthropia; and the word humanity (as it\nis used) is a little too light to express it. Goodness I call the\nhabit, and goodness of nature, the inclination. This of all virtues,\nand dignities of the mind, is the greatest; being the character of the\nDeity: and without it, man is a busy, mischievous, wretched thing;\nno better than a kind of vermin. Goodness answers to the theological\nvirtue, charity, and admits no excess, but error. The desire of power\nin excess, caused the angels to fall; the desire of knowledge in excess,\ncaused man to fall: but in charity there is no excess; neither can\nangel, nor man, come in danger by it. The inclination to goodness, is\nimprinted deeply in the nature of man; insomuch, that if it issue not\ntowards men, it will take unto other living creatures; as it is seen in\nthe Turks, a cruel people, who nevertheless are kind to beasts, and give\nalms, to dogs and birds; insomuch, as Busbechius reporteth, a Christian\nboy, in Constantinople, had like to have been stoned, for gagging in\na waggishness a long-billed fowl. Errors indeed in this virtue of\ngoodness, or charity, may be committed. The Italians have an ungracious\nproverb, Tanto buon che val niente: so good, that he is good for\nnothing. And one of the doctors of Italy, Nicholas Machiavel, had the\nconfidence to put in writing, almost in plain terms, That the Christian\nfaith, had given up good men, in prey to those that are tyrannical and\nunjust. Which he spake, because indeed there was never law, or sect, or\nopinion, did so much magnify goodness, as the Christian religion doth.\nTherefore, to avoid the scandal and the danger both, it is good, to take\nknowledge of the errors of an habit so excellent. Seek the good of other\nmen, but be not in bondage to their faces or fancies; for that is but\nfacility, or softness; which taketh an honest mind prisoner. Neither\ngive thou AEsop's cock a gem, who would be better pleased, and happier,\nif he had had a barley-corn. The example of God, teacheth the lesson\ntruly: He sendeth his rain, and maketh his sun to shine, upon the just\nand unjust; but he doth not rain wealth, nor shine honor and virtues,\nupon men equally. Common benefits, are to be communicate with all;\nbut peculiar benefits, with choice. And beware how in making the\nportraiture, thou breakest the pattern. For divinity, maketh the love of\nourselves the pattern; the love of our neighbors, but the portraiture.\nSell all thou hast, and give it to the poor, and follow me: but, sell\nnot all thou hast, except thou come and follow me; that is, except thou\nhave a vocation, wherein thou mayest do as much good, with little means\nas with great; for otherwise, in feeding the streams, thou driest the\nfountain. Neither is there only a habit of goodness, directed by right\nreason; but there is in some men, even in nature, a disposition towards\nit; as on the other side, there is a natural malignity. For there be,\nthat in their nature do not affect the good of others. The lighter sort\nof malignity, turneth but to a crassness, or frowardness, or aptness to\noppose, or difficulties, or the like; but the deeper sort, to envy and\nmere mischief. Such men, in other men's calamities, are, as it were, in\nseason, and are ever on the loading part: not so good as the dogs, that\nlicked Lazarus' sores; but like flies, that are still buzzing upon any\nthing that is raw; misanthropi, that make it their practice, to bring\nmen to the bough, and yet never a tree for the purpose in their gardens,\nas Timon had. Such dispositions, are the very errors of human nature;\nand yet they are the fittest timber, to make great politics of; like to\nknee timber, that is good for ships, that are ordained to be tossed; but\nnot for building houses, that shall stand firm. The parts and signs of\ngoodness, are many. If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it\nshows he is a citizen of the world, and that his heart is no island,\ncut off from other lands, but a continent, that joins to them. If he be\ncompassionate towards the afflictions of others, it shows that his heart\nis like the noble tree, that is wounded itself, when it gives the balm.\nIf he easily pardons, and remits offences, it shows that his mind is\nplanted above injuries; so that he cannot be shot. If he be thankful\nfor small benefits, it shows that he weighs men's minds, and not their\ntrash. But above all, if he have St. Paul's perfection, that he would\nwish to be anathema from Christ, for the salvation of his brethren,\nit shows much of a divine nature, and a kind of conformity with Christ\nhimself.\n\n\n\n\nOf Nobility\n\n\nWE WILL speak of nobility, first as a portion of an estate, then as a\ncondition of particular persons. A monarchy, where there is no nobility\nat all, is ever a pure and absolute tyranny; as that of the Turks.\nFor nobility attempers sovereignty, and draws the eyes of the people,\nsomewhat aside from the line royal. But for democracies, they need it\nnot; and they are commonly more quiet, and less subject to sedition,\nthan where there are stirps of nobles. For men's eyes are upon the\nbusiness, and not upon the persons; or if upon the persons, it is for\nthe business' sake, as fittest, and not for flags and pedigree. We see\nthe Switzers last well, notwithstanding their diversity of religion,\nand of cantons. For utility is their bond, and not respects. The united\nprovinces of the Low Countries, in their government, excel; for where\nthere is an equality, the consultations are more indifferent, and the\npayments and tributes, more cheerful. A great and potent nobility,\naddeth majesty to a monarch, but diminisheth power; and putteth life\nand spirit into the people, but presseth their fortune. It is well,\nwhen nobles are not too great for sovereignty nor for justice; and yet\nmaintained in that height, as the insolency of inferiors may be broken\nupon them, before it come on too fast upon the majesty of kings. A\nnumerous nobility causeth poverty, and inconvenience in a state; for it\nis a surcharge of expense; and besides, it being of necessity, that many\nof the nobility fall, in time, to be weak in fortune, it maketh a kind\nof disproportion, between honor and means.\n\nAs for nobility in particular persons; it is a reverend thing, to see an\nancient castle or building, not in decay; or to see a fair timber tree,\nsound and perfect. How much more, to behold an ancient noble family,\nwhich has stood against the waves and weathers of time! For new nobility\nis but the act of power, but ancient nobility is the act of time. Those\nthat are first raised to nobility, are commonly more virtuous, but less\ninnocent, than their descendants; for there is rarely any rising, but\nby a commixture of good and evil arts. But it is reason, the memory\nof their virtues remain to their posterity, and their faults die with\nthemselves. Nobility of birth commonly abateth industry; and he that is\nnot industrious, envieth him that is. Besides, noble persons cannot\ngo much higher; and he that standeth at a stay, when others rise, can\nhardly avoid motions of envy. On the other side, nobility extinguisheth\nthe passive envy from others, towards them; because they are in\npossession of honor. Certainly, kings that have able men of their\nnobility, shall find ease in employing them, and a better slide into\ntheir business; for people naturally bend to them, as born in some sort\nto command.\n\n\n\n\nOf Seditions And Troubles\n\n\nSHEPHERDS of people, had need know the calendars of tempests in state;\nwhich are commonly greatest, when things grow to equality; as natural\ntempests are greatest about the Equinoctia. And as there are certain\nhollow blasts of wind, and secret swellings of seas before a tempest, so\nare there in states:\n\n\n     --Ille etiam caecos instare tumultus\n     Saepe monet, fraudesque et operta tunescere bella.\n\n\nLibels and licentious discourses against the state, when they are\nfrequent and open; and in like sort, false news often running up and\ndown, to the disadvantage of the state, and hastily embraced; are\namongst the signs of troubles. Virgil, giving the pedigree of Fame,\nsaith, she was sister to the Giants:\n\n\nIllam Terra parens, irra irritata deorum, Extremam (ut perhibent) Coeo\nEnceladoque sororem Progenuit.\n\nAs if fames were the relics of seditions past; but they are no less,\nindeed, the preludes of seditions to come. Howsoever he noteth it right,\nthat seditious tumults, and seditious fames, differ no more but as\nbrother and sister, masculine and feminine; especially if it come to\nthat, that the best actions of a state, and the most plausible, and\nwhich ought to give greatest contentment, are taken in ill sense, and\ntraduced: for that shows the envy great, as Tacitus saith; conflata\nmagna invidia, seu bene seu male gesta premunt. Neither doth it follow,\nthat because these fames are a sign of troubles, that the suppressing\nof them with too much severity, should be a remedy of troubles. For the\ndespising of them, many times checks them best; and the going about\nto stop them, doth but make a wonder long-lived. Also that kind of\nobedience, which Tacitus speaketh of, is to be held suspected: Erant\nin officio, sed tamen qui mallent mandata imperantium interpretari quam\nexequi; disputing, excusing, cavilling upon mandates and directions, is\na kind of shaking off the yoke, and assay of disobedience; especially if\nin those disputings, they which are for the direction, speak fearfully\nand tenderly, and those that are against it, audaciously.\n\nAlso, as Machiavel noteth well, when princes, that ought to be common\nparents, make themselves as a party, and lean to a side, it is as a\nboat, that is overthrown by uneven weight on the one side; as was well\nseen, in the time of Henry the Third of France; for first, himself\nentered league for the extirpation of the Protestants; and presently\nafter, the same league was turned upon himself. For when the authority\nof princes, is made but an accessory to a cause, and that there be other\nbands, that tie faster than the band of sovereignty, kings begin to be\nput almost out of possession.\n\nAlso, when discords, and quarrels, and factions are carried openly and\naudaciously, it is a sign the reverence of government is lost. For the\nmotions of the greatest persons in a government, ought to be as the\nmotions of the planets under primum mobile; according to the old\nopinion: which is, that every of them, is carried swiftly by the highest\nmotion, and softly in their own motion. And therefore, when great\nones in their own particular motion, move violently, and, as Tacitus\nexpresseth it well, liberius quam ut imperantium meminissent; it is a\nsign the orbs are out of frame. For reverence is that, wherewith princes\nare girt from God; who threateneth the dissolving thereof; Solvam\ncingula regum.\n\nSo when any of the four pillars of government, are mainly shaken, or\nweakened (which are religion, justice, counsel, and treasure), men\nhad need to pray for fair weather. But let us pass from this part of\npredictions (concerning which, nevertheless, more light may be taken\nfrom that which followeth); and let us speak first, of the materials of\nseditions; then of the motives of them; and thirdly of the remedies.\n\nConcerning the materials of seditions. It is a thing well to be\nconsidered; for the surest way to prevent seditions (if the times\ndo bear it) is to take away the matter of them. For if there be fuel\nprepared, it is hard to tell, whence the spark shall come, that shall\nset it on fire. The matter of seditions is of two kinds: much poverty,\nand much discontentment. It is certain, so many overthrown estates, so\nmany votes for troubles. Lucan noteth well the state of Rome before the\nCivil War,\n\n\n     Hinc usura vorax, rapidumque in tempore foenus,\n     Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum.\n\n\nThis same multis utile bellum, is an assured and infallible sign, of a\nstate disposed to seditions and troubles. And if this poverty and broken\nestate in the better sort, be joined with a want and necessity in the\nmean people, the danger is imminent and great. For the rebellions of the\nbelly are the worst. As for discontentments, they are, in the politic\nbody, like to humors in the natural, which are apt to gather a\npreternatural heat, and to inflame. And let no prince measure the\ndanger of them by this, whether they be just or unjust: for that were\nto imagine people, to be too reasonable; who do often spurn at their\nown good: nor yet by this, whether the griefs whereupon they rise, be\nin fact great or small: for they are the most dangerous discontentments,\nwhere the fear is greater than the feeling. Dolendi modus, timendi non\nitem. Besides, in great oppressions, the same things that provoke the\npatience, do withal mate the courage; but in fears it is not so. Neither\nlet any prince, or state, be secure concerning discontentments, because\nthey have been often, or have been long, and yet no peril hath ensued:\nfor as it is true, that every vapor or fume doth not turn into a storm;\nso it is nevertheless true, that storms, though they blow over divers\ntimes, yet may fall at last; and, as the Spanish proverb noteth well,\nThe cord breaketh at the last by the weakest pull.\n\nThe causes and motives of seditions are, innovation in religion;\ntaxes; alteration of laws and customs; breaking of privileges; general\noppression; advancement of unworthy persons; strangers; dearths;\ndisbanded soldiers; factions grown desperate; and what soever, in\noffending people, joineth and knitteth them in a common cause.\n\nFor the remedies; there may be some general preservatives, whereof\nwe will speak: as for the just cure, it must answer to the particular\ndisease; and so be left to counsel, rather than rule.\n\nThe first remedy or prevention is to remove, by all means possible, that\nmaterial cause of sedition whereof we spake; which is, want and poverty\nin the estate. To which purpose serveth the opening, and well-balancing\nof trade; the cherishing of manufactures; the banishing of idleness; the\nrepressing of waste, and excess, by sumptuary laws; the improvement and\nhusbanding of the soil; the regulating of prices of things vendible; the\nmoderating of taxes and tributes; and the like. Generally, it is to be\nforeseen that the population of a kingdom (especially if it be not\nmown down by wars) do not exceed the stock of the kingdom, which should\nmaintain them. Neither is the population to be reckoned only by number;\nfor a smaller number, that spend more and earn less, do wear out an\nestate sooner, than a greater number that live lower, and gather more.\nTherefore the multiplying of nobility, and other degrees of quality, in\nan over proportion to the common people, doth speedily bring a state\nto necessity; and so doth likewise an overgrown clergy; for they bring\nnothing to the stock; and in like manner, when more are bred scholars,\nthan preferments can take off.\n\nIt is likewise to be remembered, that forasmuch as the increase of any\nestate must be upon the foreigner (for whatsoever is somewhere gotten,\nis somewhere lost), there be but three things, which one nation selleth\nunto another; the commodity as nature yieldeth it; the manufacture; and\nthe vecture, or carriage. So that if these three wheels go, wealth\nwill flow as in a spring tide. And it cometh many times to pass, that\nmateriam superabit opus; that the work and carriage is more worth than\nthe material, and enricheth a state more; as is notably seen in the\nLow-Countrymen, who have the best mines above ground, in the world.\n\nAbove all things, good policy is to be used, that the treasure and\nmoneys, in a state, be not gathered into few hands. For otherwise a\nstate may have a great stock, and yet starve. And money is like muck,\nnot good except it be spread. This is done, chiefly by suppressing,\nor at least keeping a strait hand, upon the devouring trades of usury,\ningrossing great pasturages, and the like.\n\nFor removing discontentments, or at least the danger of them; there is\nin every state (as we know) two portions of subjects; the noblesse\nand the commonalty. When one of these is discontent, the danger is not\ngreat; for common people are of slow motion, if they be not excited by\nthe greater sort; and the greater sort are of small strength, except the\nmultitude be apt, and ready to move of themselves. Then is the danger,\nwhen the greater sort, do but wait for the troubling of the waters\namongst the meaner, that then they may declare themselves. The poets\nfeign, that the rest of the gods would have bound Jupiter; which he\nhearing of, by the counsel of Pallas, sent for Briareus, with his\nhundred hands, to come in to his aid. An emblem, no doubt, to show how\nsafe it is for monarchs, to make sure of the good will of common people.\nTo give moderate liberty for griefs and discontentments to evaporate\n(so it be without too great insolency or bravery), is a safe way. For\nhe that turneth the humors back, and maketh the wound bleed inwards,\nendangereth malign ulcers, and pernicious imposthumations.\n\nThe part of Epimetheus mought well become Prometheus, in the case of\ndiscontentments: for there is not a better provision against them.\nEpimetheus, when griefs and evils flew abroad, at last shut the lid,\nand kept hope in the bottom of the vessel. Certainly, the politic and\nartificial nourishing, and entertaining of hopes, and carrying men\nfrom hopes to hopes, is one of the best antidotes against the poison\nof discontentments. And it is a certain sign of a wise government and\nproceeding, when it can hold men's hearts by hopes, when it cannot by\nsatisfaction; and when it can handle things, in such manner, as no evil\nshall appear so peremptory, but that it hath some outlet of hope; which\nis the less hard to do, because both particular persons and factions,\nare apt enough to flatter themselves, or at least to brave that, which\nthey believe not.\n\nAlso the foresight and prevention, that there be no likely or fit head,\nwhereunto discontented persons may resort, and under whom they may join,\nis a known, but an excellent point of caution. I understand a fit head,\nto be one that hath greatness and reputation; that hath confidence with\nthe discontented party, and upon whom they turn their eyes; and that is\nthought discontented, in his own particular: which kind of persons, are\neither to be won, and reconciled to the state, and that in a fast and\ntrue manner; or to be fronted with some other, of the same party, that\nmay oppose them, and so divide the reputation. Generally, the dividing\nand breaking, of all factions and combinations that are adverse to\nthe state, and setting them at distance, or at least distrust, amongst\nthemselves, is not one of the worst remedies. For it is a desperate\ncase, if those that hold with the proceeding of the state, be full\nof discord and faction, and those that are against it, be entire and\nunited.\n\nI have noted, that some witty and sharp speeches, which have fallen from\nprinces, have given fire to seditions. Caesar did himself infinite hurt\nin that speech, Sylla nescivit literas, non potuit dictare; for it did\nutterly cut off that hope, which men had entertained, that he would at\none time or other give over his dictatorship. Galba undid himself by\nthat speech, legi a se militem, non emi; for it put the soldiers out of\nhope of the donative. Probus likewise, by that speech, Si vixero, non\nopus erit amplius Romano imperio militibus; a speech of great despair\nfor the soldiers. And many the like. Surely princes had need, in tender\nmatters and ticklish times, to beware what they say; especially in these\nshort speeches, which fly abroad like darts, and are thought to be shot\nout of their secret intentions. For as for large discourses, they are\nflat things, and not so much noted.\n\n\nLastly, let princes, against all events, not be without some great\nperson, one or rather more, of military valor, near unto them, for the\nrepressing of seditions in their beginnings. For without that, there\nuseth to be more trepidation in court upon the first breaking out of\ntroubles, than were fit. And the state runneth the danger of that which\nTacitus saith; Atque is habitus animorum fuit, ut pessimum facinus\nauderent pauci, plures vellent, omnes paterentur. But let such military\npersons be assured, and well reputed of, rather than factious and\npopular; holding also good correspondence with the other great men in\nthe state; or else the remedy, is worse than the disease.\n\n\n\n\nOf Atheism\n\n\nI HAD rather believe all the fables in the Legend, and the Talmud,\nand the Alcoran, than that this universal frame is without a mind. And\ntherefore, God never wrought miracle, to convince atheism, because\nhis ordinary works convince it. It is true, that a little philosophy\ninclineth man's mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's\nminds about to religion. For while the mind of man looketh upon second\ncauses scattered, it may sometimes rest in them, and go no further; but\nwhen it beholdeth the chain of them, confederate and linked together, it\nmust needs fly to Providence and Deity. Nay, even that school which is\nmost accused of atheism doth most demonstrate religion; that is, the\nschool of Leucippus and Democritus and Epicurus. For it is a thousand\ntimes more credible, that four mutable elements, and one immutable fifth\nessence, duly and eternally placed, need no God, than that an army of\ninfinite small portions, or seeds unplaced, should have produced this\norder and beauty, without a divine marshal. The Scripture saith, The\nfool hath said in his heart, there is no God; it is not said, The fool\nhath thought in his heart; so as he rather saith it, by rote to himself,\nas that he would have, than that he can thoroughly believe it, or be\npersuaded of it. For none deny, there is a God, but those, for whom\nit maketh that there were no God. It appeareth in nothing more, that\natheism is rather in the lip, than in the heart of man, than by this;\nthat atheists will ever be talking of that their opinion, as if they\nfainted in it, within themselves, and would be glad to be strengthened,\nby the consent of others. Nay more, you shall have atheists strive to\nget disciples, as it fareth with other sects. And, which is most of all,\nyou shall have of them, that will suffer for atheism, and not recant;\nwhereas if they did truly think, that there were no such thing as God,\nwhy should they trouble themselves? Epicurus is charged, that he did\nbut dissemble for his credit's sake, when he affirmed there were blessed\nnatures, but such as enjoyed themselves, without having respect to the\ngovernment of the world. Wherein they say he did temporize; though in\nsecret, he thought there was no God. But certainly he is traduced; for\nhis words are noble and divine: Non deos vulgi negare profanum; sed\nvulgi opiniones diis applicare profanum. Plato could have said no more.\nAnd although he had the confidence, to deny the administration, he had\nnot the power, to deny the nature. The Indians of the West, have names\nfor their particular gods, though they have no name for God: as if the\nheathens should have had the names Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, etc., but not\nthe word Deus; which shows that even those barbarous people have the\nnotion, though they have not the latitude and extent of it. So that\nagainst atheists, the very savages take part, with the very subtlest\nphilosophers. The contemplative atheist is rare: a Diagoras, a Bion, a\nLucian perhaps, and some others; and yet they seem to be more than they\nare; for that all that impugn a received religion, or superstition, are\nby the adverse part branded with the name of atheists. But the great\natheists, indeed are hypocrites; which are ever handling holy things,\nbut without feeling; so as they must needs be cauterized in the end. The\ncauses of atheism are: divisions in religion, if they be many; for\nany one main division, addeth zeal to both sides; but many divisions\nintroduce atheism. Another is, scandal of priests; when it is come\nto that which St. Bernard saith, non est jam dicere, ut populus sic\nsacerdos; quia nec sic populus ut sacerdos. A third is, custom of\nprofane scoffing in holy matters; which doth, by little and little,\ndeface the reverence of religion. And lastly, learned times, specially\nwith peace and prosperity; for troubles and adversities do more bow\nmen's minds to religion. They that deny a God, destroy man's nobility;\nfor certainly man is of kin to the beasts, by his body; and, if he be\nnot of kin to God, by his spirit, he is a base and ignoble creature. It\ndestroys likewise magnanimity, and the raising of human nature; for take\nan example of a dog, and mark what a generosity and courage he will put\non, when he finds himself maintained by a man; who to him is instead\nof a God, or melior natura; which courage is manifestly such, as that\ncreature, without that confidence of a better nature than his own, could\nnever attain. So man, when he resteth and assureth himself, upon divine\nprotection and favor, gathered a force and faith, which human nature\nin itself could not obtain. Therefore, as atheism is in all respects\nhateful, so in this, that it depriveth human nature of the means to\nexalt itself, above human frailty. As it is in particular persons, so it\nis in nations. Never was there such a state for magnanimity as Rome.\nOf this state hear what Cicero saith: Quam volumus licet, patres\nconscripti, nos amemus, tamen nec numero Hispanos, nec robore Gallos,\nnec calliditate Poenos, nec artibus Graecos, nec denique hoc ipso hujus\ngentis et terrae domestico nativoque sensu Italos ipsos et Latinos; sed\npietate, ac religione, atque hac una sapientia, quod deorum immortalium\nnumine omnia regi gubernarique perspeximus, omnes gentes nationesque\nsuperavimus.\n\n\n\n\nOf Superstition\n\n\nIT WERE better to have no opinion of God at all, than such an opinion,\nas is unworthy of him. For the one is unbelief, the other is contumely;\nand certainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity. Plutarch saith\nwell to that purpose: Surely (saith he) I had rather a great deal, men\nshould say, there was no such man at all, as Plutarch, than that they\nshould say, that there was one Plutarch, that would eat his children\nas soon as they were born; as the poets speak of Saturn. And as the\ncontumely is greater towards God, so the danger is greater towards men.\nAtheism leaves a man to sense, to philosophy, to natural piety, to\nlaws, to reputation; all which may be guides to an outward moral virtue,\nthough religion were not; but superstition dismounts all these, and\nerecteth an absolute monarchy, in the minds of men. Therefore atheism did\nnever perturb states; for it makes men wary of themselves, as looking\nno further: and we see the times inclined to atheism (as the time\nof Augustus Caesar) were civil times. But superstition hath been the\nconfusion of many states, and bringeth in a new primum mobile, that\nravisheth all the spheres of government. The master of superstition,\nis the people; and in all superstition, wise men follow fools; and\narguments are fitted to practice, in a reversed order. It was gravely\nsaid by some of the prelates in the Council of Trent, where the\ndoctrine of the Schoolmen bare great sway, that the Schoolmen were like\nastronomers, which did feign eccentrics and epicycles, and such engines\nof orbs, to save the phenomena; though they knew there were no such\nthings; and in like manner, that the Schoolmen had framed a number of\nsubtle and intricate axioms, and theorems, to save the practice of the\nchurch. The causes of superstition are: pleasing and sensual rites\nand ceremonies; excess of outward and pharisaical holiness; overgreat\nreverence of traditions, which cannot but load the church; the\nstratagems of prelates, for their own ambition and lucre; the favoring\ntoo much of good intentions, which openeth the gate to conceits and\nnovelties; the taking an aim at divine matters, by human, which cannot\nbut breed mixture of imaginations: and, lastly, barbarous times,\nespecially joined with calamities and disasters. Superstition, without a\nveil, is a deformed thing; for, as it addeth deformity to an ape, to be\nso like a man, so the similitude of superstition to religion, makes it\nthe more deformed. And as wholesome meat corrupteth to little worms, so\ngood forms and orders corrupt, into a number of petty observances. There\nis a superstition in avoiding superstition, when men think to do best,\nif they go furthest from the superstition, formerly received; therefore\ncare would be had that (as it fareth in ill purgings) the good be not\ntaken away with the bad; which commonly is done, when the people is the\nreformer.\n\n\n\n\nOf Travel\n\n\nTRAVEL, in the younger sort, is a part of education, in the elder, a\npart of experience. He that travelleth into a country, before he hath\nsome entrance into the language, goeth to school, and not to travel.\nThat young men travel under some tutor, or grave servant, I allow well;\nso that he be such a one that hath the language, and hath been in the\ncountry before; whereby he may be able to tell them what things are\nworthy to be seen, in the country where they go; what acquaintances\nthey are to seek; what exercises, or discipline, the place yieldeth. For\nelse, young men shall go hooded, and look abroad little. It is a strange\nthing, that in sea voyages, where there is nothing to be seen, but sky\nand sea, men should make diaries; but in land-travel, wherein so much is\nto be observed, for the most part they omit it; as if chance were fitter\nto be registered, than observation. Let diaries, therefore, be brought\nin use. The things to be seen and observed are: the courts of princes,\nespecially when they give audience to ambassadors; the courts of\njustice, while they sit and hear causes; and so of consistories\necclesiastic; the churches and monasteries, with the monuments which are\ntherein extant; the walls and fortifications of cities, and towns, and\nso the heavens and harbors; antiquities and ruins; libraries; colleges,\ndisputations, and lectures, where any are; shipping and navies;\nhouses and gardens of state and pleasure, near great cities; armories;\narsenals; magazines; exchanges; burses; warehouses; exercises of\nhorsemanship, fencing, training of soldiers, and the like; comedies,\nsuch whereunto the better sort of persons do resort; treasuries of\njewels and robes; cabinets and rarities; and, to conclude, whatsoever is\nmemorable, in the places where they go. After all which, the tutors,\nor servants, ought to make diligent inquiry. As for triumphs, masks,\nfeasts, weddings, funerals, capital executions, and such shows, men need\nnot to be put in mind of them; yet are they not to be neglected. If you\nwill have a young man to put his travel into a little room, and in short\ntime to gather much, this you must do. First, as was said, he must have\nsome entrance into the language before he goeth. Then he must have such\na servant, or tutor, as knoweth the country, as was likewise said. Let\nhim carry with him also, some card or book, describing the country where\nhe travelleth; which will be a good key to his inquiry. Let him keep\nalso a diary. Let him not stay long, in one city or town; more or less\nas the place deserveth, but not long; nay, when he stayeth in one city\nor town, let him change his lodging from one end and part of the town,\nto another; which is a great adamant of acquaintance. Let him sequester\nhimself, from the company of his countrymen, and diet in such places,\nwhere there is good company of the nation where he travelleth. Let him,\nupon his removes from one place to another, procure recommendation to\nsome person of quality, residing in the place whither he removeth; that\nhe may use his favor, in those things he desireth to see or know. Thus\nhe may abridge his travel, with much profit. As for the acquaintance,\nwhich is to be sought in travel; that which is most of all profitable,\nis acquaintance with the secretaries and employed men of ambassadors:\nfor so in travelling in one country, he shall suck the experience of\nmany. Let him also see, and visit, eminent persons in all kinds, which\nare of great name abroad; that he may be able to tell, how the life\nagreeth with the fame. For quarrels, they are with care and discretion\nto be avoided. They are commonly for mistresses, healths, place, and\nwords. And let a man beware, how he keepeth company with choleric and\nquarrelsome persons; for they will engage him into their own quarrels.\nWhen a traveller returneth home, let him not leave the countries, where\nhe hath travelled, altogether behind him; but maintain a correspondence\nby letters, with those of his acquaintance, which are of most worth.\nAnd let his travel appear rather in his discourse, than his apparel or\ngesture; and in his discourse, let him be rather advised in his answers,\nthan forward to tell stories; and let it appear that he doth not change\nhis country manners, for those of foreign parts; but only prick in some\nflowers, of that he hath learned abroad, into the customs of his own\ncountry.\n\n\n\n\nOf Empire\n\n\nIT IS a miserable state of mind, to have few things to desire, and many\nthings to fear; and yet that commonly is the case of kings; who, being\nat the highest, want matter of desire, which makes their minds more\nlanguishing; and have many representations of perils and shadows, which\nmakes their minds the less clear. And this is one reason also, of\nthat effect which the Scripture speaketh of, That the king's heart is\ninscrutable. For multitude of jealousies, and lack of some predominant\ndesire, that should marshal and put in order all the rest, maketh\nany man's heart, hard to find or sound. Hence it comes likewise, that\nprinces many times make themselves desires, and set their hearts upon\ntoys; sometimes upon a building; sometimes upon erecting of an order;\nsometimes upon the advancing of a person; sometimes upon obtaining\nexcellency in some art, or feat of the hand; as Nero for playing on the\nharp, Domitian for certainty of the hand with the arrow, Commodus for\nplaying at fence, Caracalla for driving chariots, and the like. This\nseemeth incredible, unto those that know not the principle, that the\nmind of man, is more cheered and refreshed by profiting in small things,\nthan by standing at a stay, in great. We see also that kings that have\nbeen fortunate conquerors, in their first years, it being not possible\nfor them to go forward infinitely, but that they must have some\ncheck, or arrest in their fortunes, turn in their latter years to be\nsuperstitious, and melancholy; as did Alexander the Great; Diocletian;\nand in our memory, Charles the Fifth; and others: for he that is used to\ngo forward, and findeth a stop, falleth out of his own favor, and is not\nthe thing he was.\n\nTo speak now of the true temper of empire, it is a thing rare and hard\nto keep; for both temper, and distemper, consist of contraries. But it\nis one thing, to mingle contraries, another to interchange them. The\nanswer of Apollonius to Vespasian, is full of excellent instruction.\nVespasian asked him, What was Nero's overthrow? He answered, Nero could\ntouch and tune the harp well; but in government, sometimes he used to\nwind the pins too high, sometimes to let them down too low. And certain\nit is, that nothing destroyeth authority so much, as the unequal and\nuntimely interchange of power pressed too far, and relaxed too much.\n\nThis is true, that the wisdom of all these latter times, in princes'\naffairs, is rather fine deliveries, and shiftings of dangers and\nmischiefs, when they are near, than solid and grounded courses to keep\nthem aloof. But this is but to try masteries with fortune. And let men\nbeware, how they neglect and suffer matter of trouble to be prepared;\nfor no man can forbid the spark, nor tell whence it may come. The\ndifficulties in princes' business are many and great; but the greatest\ndifficulty, is often in their own mind. For it is common with princes\n(saith Tacitus) to will contradictories, Sunt plerumque regum voluntates\nvehementes, et inter se contrariae. For it is the solecism of power, to\nthink to command the end, and yet not to endure the mean.\n\nKings have to deal with their neighbors, their wives, their children,\ntheir prelates or clergy, their nobles, their second-nobles or\ngentlemen, their merchants, their commons, and their men of war; and\nfrom all these arise dangers, if care and circumspection be not used.\n\nFirst for their neighbors; there can no general rule be given (for\noccasions are so variable), save one, which ever holdeth, which is, that\nprinces do keep due sentinel, that none of their neighbors do ever grow\nso (by increase of territory, by embracing of trade, by approaches, or\nthe like), as they become more able to annoy them, than they were.\nAnd this is generally the work of standing counsels, to foresee and to\nhinder it. During that triumvirate of kings, King Henry the Eighth\nof England, Francis the First King of France, and Charles the Fifth\nEmperor, there was such a watch kept, that none of the three could win a\npalm of ground, but the other two would straightways balance it, either\nby confederation, or, if need were, by a war; and would not in any wise\ntake up peace at interest. And the like was done by that league (which\nGuicciardini saith was the security of Italy) made between Ferdinando\nKing of Naples, Lorenzius Medici, and Ludovicus Sforza, potentates, the\none of Florence, the other of Milan. Neither is the opinion of some of\nthe Schoolmen, to be received, that a war cannot justly be made, but\nupon a precedent injury or provocation. For there is no question, but\na just fear of an imminent danger, though there be no blow given, is a\nlawful cause of a war.\n\nFor their wives; there are cruel examples of them. Livia is infamed,\nfor the poisoning of her husband; Roxalana, Solyman's wife, was the\ndestruction of that renowned prince, Sultan Mustapha, and otherwise\ntroubled his house and succession; Edward the Second of England, his\nqueen, had the principal hand in the deposing and murder of her husband.\nThis kind of danger, is then to be feared chiefly, when the wives have\nplots, for the raising of their own children; or else that they be\nadvoutresses.\n\nFor their children; the tragedies likewise of dangers from them, have\nbeen many. And generally, the entering of fathers into suspicion of\ntheir children, hath been ever unfortunate. The destruction of Mustapha\n(that we named before) was so fatal to Solyman's line, as the succession\nof the Turks, from Solyman until this day, is suspected to be untrue,\nand of strange blood; for that Selymus the Second, was thought to\nbe suppositious. The destruction of Crispus, a young prince of rare\ntowardness, by Constantinus the Great, his father, was in like manner\nfatal to his house; for both Constantinus and Constance, his sons, died\nviolent deaths; and Constantius, his other son, did little better; who\ndied indeed of sickness, but after that Julianus had taken arms against\nhim. The destruction of Demetrius, son to Philip the Second of Macedon,\nturned upon the father, who died of repentance. And many like examples\nthere are; but few or none, where the fathers had good by such distrust;\nexcept it were, where the sons were up in open arms against them; as\nwas Selymus the First against Bajazet; and the three sons of Henry the\nSecond, King of England.\n\nFor their prelates; when they are proud and great, there is also danger\nfrom them; as it was in the times of Anselmus, and Thomas Becket,\nArchbishops of Canterbury; who, with their croziers, did almost try it\nwith the king's sword; and yet they had to deal with stout and haughty\nkings, William Rufus, Henry the First, and Henry the Second. The danger\nis not from that state, but where it hath a dependence of foreign\nauthority; or where the churchmen come in and are elected, not by the\ncollation of the king, or particular patrons, but by the people.\n\nFor their nobles; to keep them at a distance, it is not amiss; but to\ndepress them, may make a king more absolute, but less safe; and less\nable to perform, any thing that he desires. I have noted it, in\nmy History of King Henry the Seventh of England, who depressed his\nnobility; whereupon it came to pass, that his times were full of\ndifficulties and troubles; for the nobility, though they continued loyal\nunto him, yet did they not co-operate with him in his business. So that\nin effect, he was fain to do all things himself.\n\nFor their second-nobles; there is not much danger from them, being a\nbody dispersed. They may sometimes discourse high, but that doth little\nhurt; besides, they are a counterpoise to the higher nobility, that they\ngrow not too potent; and, lastly, being the most immediate in authority,\nwith the common people, they do best temper popular commotions.\n\nFor their merchants; they are vena porta; and if they flourish not,\na kingdom may have good limbs, but will have empty veins, and nourish\nlittle. Taxes and imposts upon them, do seldom good to the king's\nrevenue; for that that he wins in the hundred, he leeseth in the shire;\nthe particular rates being increased, but the total bulk of trading,\nrather decreased.\n\nFor their commons; there is little danger from them, except it be, where\nthey have great and potent heads; or where you meddle with the point of\nreligion, or their customs, or means of life.\n\nFor their men of war; it is a dangerous state, where they live and\nremain in a body, and are used to donatives; whereof we see examples in\nthe janizaries, and pretorian bands of Rome; but trainings of men, and\narming them in several places, and under several commanders, and without\ndonatives, are things of defence, and no danger.\n\nPrinces are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil times; and\nwhich have much veneration, but no rest. All precepts concerning kings,\nare in effect comprehended in those two remembrances: memento quod es\nhomo; and memento quod es Deus, or vice Dei; the one bridleth their\npower, and the other their will.\n\n\n\n\nOf Counsel\n\n\nTHE greatest trust, between man and man, is the trust of giving counsel.\nFor in other confidences, men commit the parts of life; their lands,\ntheir goods, their children, their credit, some particular affair; but\nto such as they make their counsellors, they commit the whole: by how\nmuch the more, they are obliged to all faith and integrity. The\nwisest princes need not think it any diminution to their greatness, or\nderogation to their sufficiency, to rely upon counsel. God himself is\nnot without, but hath made it one of the great names of his blessed Son:\nThe Counsellor. Solomon hath pronounced, that in counsel is stability.\nThings will have their first, or second agitation: if they be not tossed\nupon the arguments of counsel, they will be tossed upon the waves of\nfortune; and be full of inconstancy, doing and undoing, like the reeling\nof a drunken man. Solomon's son found the force of counsel, as his\nfather saw the necessity of it. For the beloved kingdom of God, was\nfirst rent, and broken, by ill counsel; upon which counsel, there are\nset for our instruction, the two marks whereby bad counsel is for ever\nbest discerned; that it was young counsel, for the person; and violent\ncounsel, for the matter.\n\nThe ancient times, do set forth in figure, both the incorporation, and\ninseparable conjunction, of counsel with kings, and the wise and politic\nuse of counsel by kings: the one, in that they say Jupiter did marry\nMetis, which signifieth counsel; whereby they intend that Sovereignty,\nis married to Counsel: the other in that which followeth, which was\nthus: They say, after Jupiter was married to Metis, she conceived by\nhim, and was with child, but Jupiter suffered her not to stay, till she\nbrought forth, but eat her up; whereby he became himself with child, and\nwas delivered of Pallas armed, out of his head. Which monstrous fable\ncontaineth a secret of empire; how kings are to make use of their\ncounsel of state. That first, they ought to refer matters unto them,\nwhich is the first begetting, or impregnation; but when they are\nelaborate, moulded, and shaped in the womb of their counsel, and grow\nripe, and ready to be brought forth, that then they suffer not their\ncounsel to go through with the resolution and direction, as if it\ndepended on them; but take the matter back into their own hands, and\nmake it appear to the world, that the decrees and final directions\n(which, because they come forth, with prudence and power, are resembled\nto Pallas armed) proceeded from themselves; and not only from their\nauthority, but (the more to add reputation to themselves) from their\nhead and device.\n\nLet us now speak of the inconveniences of counsel, and of the remedies.\nThe inconveniences that have been noted, in calling and using counsel,\nare three. First, the revealing of affairs, whereby they become less\nsecret. Secondly, the weakening of the authority of princes, as if\nthey were less of themselves. Thirdly, the danger of being unfaithfully\ncounselled, and more for the good of them that counsel, than of him\nthat is counselled. For which inconveniences, the doctrine of Italy,\nand practice of France, in some kings' times, hath introduced cabinet\ncounsels; a remedy worse than the disease.\n\nAs to secrecy; princes are not bound to communicate all matters, with\nall counsellors; but may extract and select. Neither is it necessary,\nthat he that consulteth what he should do, should declare what he will\ndo. But let princes beware, that the unsecreting of their affairs, comes\nnot from themselves. And as for cabinet counsels, it may be their motto,\nplenus rimarum sum: one futile person, that maketh it his glory to tell,\nwill do more hurt than many, that know it their duty to conceal. It is\ntrue there be some affairs, which require extreme secrecy, which will\nhardly go beyond one or two persons, besides the king: neither are those\ncounsels unprosperous; for, besides the secrecy, they commonly go on\nconstantly, in one spirit of direction, without distraction. But then\nit must be a prudent king, such as is able to grind with a handmill; and\nthose inward counsellors had need also be wise men, and especially true\nand trusty to the king's ends; as it was with King Henry the Seventh of\nEngland, who, in his great business, imparted himself to none, except it\nwere to Morton and Fox.\n\nFor weakening of authority; the fable showeth the remedy. Nay, the\nmajesty of kings, is rather exalted than diminished, when they are in\nthe chair of counsel; neither was there ever prince, bereaved of his\ndependences, by his counsel, except where there hath been, either an\nover-greatness in one counsellor, or an over-strict combination in\ndivers; which are things soon found, and holpen.\n\nFor the last inconvenience, that men will counsel, with an eye to\nthemselves; certainly, non inveniet fidem super terram is meant, of the\nnature of times, and not of all particular persons. There be, that are\nin nature faithful, and sincere, and plain, and direct; not crafty\nand involved; let princes, above all, draw to themselves such\nnatures. Besides, counsellors are not commonly so united, but that one\ncounsellor, keepeth sentinel over another; so that if any do counsel out\nof faction or private ends, it commonly comes to the king's ear. But\nthe best remedy is, if princes know their counsellors, as well as their\ncounsellors know them:\n\n\nPrincipis est virtus maxima nosse suos.\n\nAnd on the other side, counsellors should not be too speculative into\ntheir sovereign's person. The true composition of a counsellor, is\nrather to be skilful in their master's business, than in his nature; for\nthen he is like to advise him, and not feed his humor. It is of singular\nuse to princes, if they take the opinions of their counsel, both\nseparately and together. For private opinion is more free; but opinion\nbefore others, is more reverent. In private, men are more bold in their\nown humors; and in consort, men are more obnoxious to others' humors;\ntherefore it is good to take both; and of the inferior sort, rather\nin private, to preserve freedom; of the greater, rather in consort, to\npreserve respect. It is in vain for princes, to take counsel concerning\nmatters, if they take no counsel likewise concerning persons; for all\nmatters are as dead images; and the life of the execution of affairs,\nresteth in the good choice of persons. Neither is it enough, to consult\nconcerning persons secundum genera, as in an idea, or mathematical\ndescription, what the kind and character of the person should be; for\nthe greatest errors are committed, and the most judgment is shown, in\nthe choice of individuals. It was truly said, optimi consiliarii mortui:\nbooks will speak plain, when counsellors blanch. Therefore it is good to\nbe conversant in them, specially the books of such as themselves have\nbeen actors upon the stage.\n\nThe counsels at this day, in most places, are but familiar meetings,\nwhere matters are rather talked on, than debated. And they run too\nswift, to the order, or act, of counsel. It were better that in causes\nof weight, the matter were propounded one day, and not spoken to till\nthe next day; in nocte consilium. So was it done in the Commission\nof Union, between England and Scotland; which was a grave and orderly\nassembly. I commend set days for petitions; for both it gives the\nsuitors more certainty for their attendance, and it frees the meetings\nfor matters of estate, that they may hoc agere. In choice of committees;\nfor ripening business for the counsel, it is better to choose\nindifferent persons, than to make an indifferency, by putting in those,\nthat are strong on both sides. I commend also standing commissions; as\nfor trade, for treasure, for war, for suits, for some provinces; for\nwhere there be divers particular counsels, and but one counsel of\nestate (as it is in Spain), they are, in effect, no more than standing\ncommissions: save that they have greater authority. Let such as are\nto inform counsels, out of their particular professions (as lawyers,\nseamen, mintmen, and the like) be first heard before committees; and\nthen, as occasion serves, before the counsel. And let them not come in\nmultitudes, or in a tribunitious manner; for that is to clamor counsels,\nnot to inform them. A long table and a square table, or seats about the\nwalls, seem things of form, but are things of substance; for at a long\ntable a few at the upper end, in effect, sway all the business; but in\nthe other form, there is more use of the counsellors' opinions, that sit\nlower. A king, when he presides in counsel, let him beware how he opens\nhis own inclination too much, in that which he propoundeth; for else\ncounsellors will but take the wind of him, and instead of giving free\ncounsel, sing him a song of placebo.\n\n\n\n\nOf Delays\n\n\nFORTUNE is like the market; where many times if you can stay a little,\nthe price will fall. Again, it is sometimes like Sibylla's offer; which\nat first, offereth the commodity at full, then consumeth part and part,\nand still holdeth up the price. For occasion (as it is in the common\nverse) turneth a bald noddle, after she hath presented her locks in\nfront, and no hold taken; or at least turneth the handle of the bottle,\nfirst to be received, and after the belly, which is hard to clasp.\nThere is surely no greater wisdom, than well to time the beginnings, and\nonsets, of things. Dangers are no more light, if they once seem light;\nand more dangers have deceived men, than forced them. Nay, it were\nbetter, to meet some dangers half way, though they come nothing near,\nthan to keep too long a watch upon their approaches; for if a man watch\ntoo long, it is odds he will fall asleep. On the other side, to be\ndeceived with too long shadows (as some have been, when the moon was\nlow, and shone on their enemies' back), and so to shoot off before the\ntime; or to teach dangers to come on, by over early buckling towards\nthem; is another extreme. The ripeness, or unripeness, of the occasion\n(as we said) must ever be well weighed; and generally it is good, to\ncommit the beginnings of all great actions to Argus, with his hundred\neyes, and the ends to Briareus, with his hundred hands; first to watch,\nand then to speed. For the helmet of Pluto, which maketh the politic man\ngo invisible, is secrecy in the counsel, and celerity in the execution.\nFor when things are once come to the execution, there is no secrecy,\ncomparable to celerity; like the motion of a bullet in the air, which\nflieth so swift, as it outruns the eye.\n\n\n\n\nOf Cunning\n\n\nWE TAKE cunning for a sinister or crooked wisdom. And certainly there is\na great difference, between a cunning man, and a wise man; not only in\npoint of honesty, but in point of ability. There be, that can pack the\ncards, and yet cannot play well; so there are some that are good in\ncanvasses and factions, that are otherwise weak men. Again, it is one\nthing to understand persons, and another thing to understand matters;\nfor many are perfect in men's humors, that are not greatly capable of\nthe real part of business; which is the constitution of one that hath\nstudied men, more than books. Such men are fitter for practice, than\nfor counsel; and they are good, but in their own alley: turn them to new\nmen, and they have lost their aim; so as the old rule, to know a fool\nfrom a wise man, Mitte ambos nudos ad ignotos, et videbis, doth scarce\nhold for them. And because these cunning men, are like haberdashers of\nsmall wares, it is not amiss to set forth their shop.\n\nIt is a point of cunning, to wait upon him with whom you speak, with\nyour eye; as the Jesuits give it in precept: for there be many wise men,\nthat have secret hearts, and transparent countenances. Yet this would be\ndone with a demure abasing of your eye, sometimes, as the Jesuits also\ndo use.\n\nAnother is, that when you have anything to obtain, of present despatch,\nyou entertain and amuse the party, with whom you deal, with some other\ndiscourse; that he be not too much awake to make objections. I knew a\ncounsellor and secretary, that never came to Queen Elizabeth of\nEngland, with bills to sign, but he would always first put her into some\ndiscourse of estate, that she mought the less mind the bills.\n\nThe like surprise may be made by moving things, when the party is in\nhaste, and cannot stay to consider advisedly of that is moved.\n\nIf a man would cross a business, that he doubts some other would\nhandsomely and effectually move, let him pretend to wish it well, and\nmove it himself in such sort as may foil it.\n\nThe breaking off, in the midst of that one was about to say, as if he\ntook himself up, breeds a greater appetite in him with whom you confer,\nto know more.\n\nAnd because it works better, when anything seemeth to be gotten from you\nby question, than if you offer it of yourself, you may lay a bait for a\nquestion, by showing another visage, and countenance, than you are wont;\nto the end to give occasion, for the party to ask, what the matter is\nof the change? As Nehemias did; And I had not before that time, been sad\nbefore the king.\n\nIn things that are tender and unpleasing, it is good to break the ice,\nby some whose words are of less weight, and to reserve the more weighty\nvoice, to come in as by chance, so that he may be asked the question\nupon the other's speech: as Narcissus did, relating to Claudius the\nmarriage of Messalina and Silius.\n\nIn things that a man would not be seen in himself, it is a point of\ncunning, to borrow the name of the world; as to say, The world says, or\nThere is a speech abroad.\n\nI knew one that, when he wrote a letter, he would put that, which was\nmost material, in the postscript, as if it had been a by-matter.\n\nI knew another that, when he came to have speech, he would pass over\nthat, that he intended most; and go forth, and come back again, and\nspeak of it as of a thing, that he had almost forgot.\n\nSome procure themselves, to be surprised, at such times as it is like\nthe party that they work upon, will suddenly come upon them; and to be\nfound with a letter in their hand, or doing somewhat which they are not\naccustomed; to the end, they may be apposed of those things, which of\nthemselves they are desirous to utter.\n\nIt is a point of cunning, to let fall those words in a man's own name,\nwhich he would have another man learn, and use, and thereupon take\nadvantage. I knew two, that were competitors for the secretary's place\nin Queen Elizabeth's time, and yet kept good quarter between themselves;\nand would confer, one with another, upon the business; and the one of\nthem said, That to be a secretary, in the declination of a monarchy,\nwas a ticklish thing, and that he did not affect it: the other straight\ncaught up those words, and discoursed with divers of his friends, that\nhe had no reason to desire to be secretary, in the declination of a\nmonarchy. The first man took hold of it, and found means it was told the\nQueen; who, hearing of a declination of a monarchy, took it so ill, as\nshe would never after hear of the other's suit.\n\nThere is a cunning, which we in England call, the turning of the cat in\nthe pan; which is, when that which a man says to another, he lays it as\nif another had said it to him. And to say truth, it is not easy, when\nsuch a matter passed between two, to make it appear from which of them\nit first moved and began.\n\nIt is a way that some men have, to glance and dart at others, by\njustifying themselves by negatives; as to say, This I do not; as\nTigellinus did towards Burrhus, Se non diversas spes, sed incolumitatem\nimperatoris simpliciter spectare.\n\nSome have in readiness so many tales and stories, as there is nothing\nthey would insinuate, but they can wrap it into a tale; which serveth\nboth to keep themselves more in guard, and to make others carry it with\nmore pleasure. It is a good point of cunning, for a man to shape the\nanswer he would have, in his own words and propositions; for it makes\nthe other party stick the less.\n\nIt is strange how long some men will lie in wait to speak somewhat they\ndesire to say; and how far about they will fetch; and how many other\nmatters they will beat over, to come near it. It is a thing of great\npatience, but yet of much use.\n\nA sudden, bold, and unexpected question doth many times surprise a man,\nand lay him open. Like to him that, having changed his name, and walking\nin Paul's, another suddenly came behind him, and called him by his true\nname, whereat straightways he looked back.\n\nBut these small wares, and petty points, of cunning, are infinite; and\nit were a good deed to make a list of them; for that nothing doth more\nhurt in a state, than that cunning men pass for wise.\n\nBut certainly some there are that know the resorts and falls of\nbusiness, that cannot sink into the main of it; like a house that hath\nconvenient stairs and entries, but never a fair room. Therefore, you\nshall see them find out pretty looses in the conclusion, but are no ways\nable to examine or debate matters. And yet commonly they take advantage\nof their inability, and would be thought wits of direction. Some build\nrather upon the abusing of others, and (as we now say) putting tricks\nupon them, than upon soundness of their own proceedings. But Solomon\nsaith, Prudens advertit ad gressus suos; stultus divertit ad dolos.\n\n\n\n\nOf Wisdom For A Man's Self\n\n\nAN ANT is a wise creature for itself, but it is a shrewd thing, in\nan orchard or garden. And certainly, men that are great lovers of\nthemselves, waste the public. Divide with reason; between self-love and\nsociety; and be so true to thyself, as thou be not false to others;\nspecially to thy king and country. It is a poor centre of a man's\nactions, himself. It is right earth. For that only stands fast upon his\nown centre; whereas all things, that have affinity with the heavens,\nmove upon the centre of another, which they benefit. The referring of\nall to a man's self, is more tolerable in a sovereign prince; because\nthemselves are not only themselves, but their good and evil is at the\nperil of the public fortune. But it is a desperate evil, in a servant to\na prince, or a citizen in a republic. For whatsoever affairs pass such a\nman's hands, he crooketh them to his own ends; which must needs be often\neccentric to the ends of his master, or state. Therefore, let princes,\nor states, choose such servants, as have not this mark; except they mean\ntheir service should be made but the accessory. That which maketh\nthe effect more pernicious, is that all proportion is lost. It were\ndisproportion enough, for the servant's good to be preferred before the\nmaster's; but yet it is a greater extreme, when a little good of the\nservant, shall carry things against a great good of the master's. And\nyet that is the case of bad officers, treasurers, ambassadors, generals,\nand other false and corrupt servants; which set a bias upon their bowl,\nof their own petty ends and envies, to the overthrow of their master's\ngreat and important affairs. And for the most part, the good such\nservants receive, is after the model of their own fortune; but the hurt\nthey sell for that good, is after the model of their master's fortune.\nAnd certainly it is the nature of extreme self-lovers, as they will set\nan house on fire, and it were but to roast their eggs; and yet these men\nmany times hold credit with their masters, because their study is but\nto please them, and profit themselves; and for either respect, they will\nabandon the good of their affairs.\n\nWisdom for a man's self is, in many branches thereof, a depraved thing.\nIt is the wisdom of rats, that will be sure to leave a house, somewhat\nbefore it fall. It is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out\nthe badger, who digged and made room for him. It is the wisdom of\ncrocodiles, that shed tears when they would devour. But that which is\nspecially to be noted is, that those which (as Cicero says of Pompey)\nare sui amantes, sine rivali, are many times unfortunate. And whereas\nthey have, all their times, sacrificed to themselves, they become in the\nend, themselves sacrifices to the inconstancy of fortune, whose wings\nthey thought, by their self-wisdom, to have pinioned.\n\n\n\n\nOf Innovations\n\n\nAS THE births of living creatures, at first are ill-shapen, so are all\ninnovations, which are the births of time. Yet notwithstanding, as those\nthat first bring honor into their family, are commonly more worthy than\nmost that succeed, so the first precedent (if it be good) is seldom\nattained by imitation. For ill, to man's nature, as it stands perverted,\nhath a natural motion, strongest in continuance; but good, as a forced\nmotion, strongest at first. Surely every medicine is an innovation; and\nhe that will not apply new remedies, must expect new evils; for time is\nthe greatest innovator; and if time of course alter things to the worse,\nand wisdom and counsel shall not alter them to the better, what shall\nbe the end? It is true, that what is settled by custom, though it be\nnot good, yet at least it is fit; and those things which have long gone\ntogether, are, as it were, confederate within themselves; whereas new\nthings piece not so well; but though they help by their utility, yet\nthey trouble by their inconformity. Besides, they are like strangers;\nmore admired, and less favored. All this is true, if time stood still;\nwhich contrariwise moveth so round, that a froward retention of custom,\nis as turbulent a thing as an innovation; and they that reverence too\nmuch old times, are but a scorn to the new. It were good, therefore,\nthat men in their innovations would follow the example of time itself;\nwhich indeed innovateth greatly, but quietly, by degrees scarce to be\nperceived. For otherwise, whatsoever is new is unlooked for; and ever\nit mends some, and pairs others; and he that is holpen, takes it for\na fortune, and thanks the time; and he that is hurt, for a wrong, and\nimputeth it to the author. It is good also, not to try experiments in\nstates, except the necessity be urgent, or the utility evident; and well\nto beware, that it be the reformation, that draweth on the change, and\nnot the desire of change, that pretendeth the reformation. And lastly,\nthat the novelty, though it be not rejected, yet be held for a suspect;\nand, as the Scripture saith, that we make a stand upon the ancient way,\nand then look about us, and discover what is the straight and right way,\nand so to walk in it.\n\n\n\n\nOf Dispatch\n\n\nAFFECTED dispatch is one of the most dangerous things to business that\ncan be. It is like that, which the physicians call predigestion, or\nhasty digestion; which is sure to fill the body full of crudities, and\nsecret seeds of diseases. Therefore measure not dispatch, by the times\nof sitting, but by the advancement of the business. And as in races\nit is not the large stride or high lift that makes the speed; so in\nbusiness, the keeping close to the matter, and not taking of it too much\nat once, procureth dispatch. It is the care of some, only to come off\nspeedily for the time; or to contrive some false periods of business,\nbecause they may seem men of dispatch. But it is one thing, to\nabbreviate by contracting, another by cutting off. And business so\nhandled, at several sittings or meetings, goeth commonly backward and\nforward in an unsteady manner. I knew a wise man that had it for a\nbyword, when he saw men hasten to a conclusion, Stay a little, that we\nmay make an end the sooner.\n\nOn the other side, true dispatch is a rich thing. For time is the\nmeasure of business, as money is of wares; and business is bought at\na dear hand, where there is small dispatch. The Spartans and Spaniards\nhave been noted to be of small dispatch; Mi venga la muerte de Spagna;\nLet my death come from Spain; for then it will be sure to be long in\ncoming.\n\nGive good hearing to those, that give the first information in business;\nand rather direct them in the beginning, than interrupt them in the\ncontinuance of their speeches; for he that is put out of his own order,\nwill go forward and backward, and be more tedious, while he waits\nupon his memory, than he could have been, if he had gone on in his\nown course. But sometimes it is seen, that the moderator is more\ntroublesome, than the actor.\n\nIterations are commonly loss of time. But there is no such gain of time,\nas to iterate often the state of the question; for it chaseth away many\na frivolous speech, as it is coming forth. Long and curious speeches,\nare as fit for dispatch, as a robe or mantle, with a long train, is\nfor race. Prefaces and passages, and excusations, and other speeches of\nreference to the person, are great wastes of time; and though they\nseem to proceed of modesty, they are bravery. Yet beware of being too\nmaterial, when there is any impediment or obstruction in men's wills;\nfor pre-occupation of mind ever requireth preface of speech; like a\nfomentation to make the unguent enter.\n\nAbove all things, order, and distribution, and singling out of parts, is\nthe life of dispatch; so as the distribution be not too subtle: for he\nthat doth not divide, will never enter well into business; and he that\ndivideth too much, will never come out of it clearly. To choose time, is\nto save time; and an unseasonable motion, is but beating the air. There\nbe three parts of business; the preparation, the debate or examination,\nand the perfection. Whereof, if you look for dispatch, let the middle\nonly be the work of many, and the first and last the work of few. The\nproceeding upon somewhat conceived in writing, doth for the most part\nfacilitate dispatch: for though it should be wholly rejected, yet that\nnegative is more pregnant of direction, than an indefinite; as ashes are\nmore generative than dust.\n\n\n\n\nOf Seeming Wise\n\n\nIT HATH been an opinion, that the French are wiser than they seem, and\nthe Spaniards seem wiser than they are. But howsoever it be between\nnations, certainly it is so between man and man. For as the Apostle\nsaith of godliness, Having a show of godliness, but denying the power\nthereof; so certainly there are, in point of wisdom and sufficiency,\nthat do nothing or little very solemnly: magno conatu nugas. It is a\nridiculous thing, and fit for a satire to persons of judgment, to\nsee what shifts these formalists have, and what prospectives to make\nsuperficies to seem body, that hath depth and bulk. Some are so close\nand reserved, as they will not show their wares, but by a dark light;\nand seem always to keep back somewhat; and when they know within\nthemselves, they speak of that they do not well know, would nevertheless\nseem to others, to know of that which they may not well speak. Some\nhelp themselves with countenance and gesture, and are wise by signs; as\nCicero saith of Piso, that when he answered him, he fetched one of\nhis brows up to his forehead, and bent the other down to his chin;\nRespondes, altero ad frontem sublato, altero ad mentum depresso\nsupercilio, crudelitatem tibi non placere. Some think to bear it by\nspeaking a great word, and being peremptory; and go on, and take by\nadmittance, that which they cannot make good. Some, whatsoever is beyond\ntheir reach, will seem to despise, or make light of it, as impertinent\nor curious; and so would have their ignorance seem judgment. Some are\nnever without a difference, and commonly by amusing men with a subtilty,\nblanch the matter; of whom A. Gellius saith, Hominem delirum, qui\nverborum minutiis rerum frangit pondera. Of which kind also, Plato,\nin his Protagoras, bringeth in Prodicus in scorn, and maketh him make a\nspeech, that consisteth of distinction from the beginning to the end.\nGenerally, such men in all deliberations find ease to be of the negative\nside, and affect a credit to object and foretell difficulties; for\nwhen propositions are denied, there is an end of them; but if they be\nallowed, it requireth a new work; which false point of wisdom is the\nbane of business. To conclude, there is no decaying merchant, or inward\nbeggar, hath so many tricks to uphold the credit of their wealth, as\nthese empty persons have, to maintain the credit of their sufficiency.\nSeeming wise men may make shift to get opinion; but let no man choose\nthem for employment; for certainly you were better take for business, a\nman somewhat absurd, than over-formal.\n\n\n\n\nOf Friendship\n\n\nIT HAD been hard for him that spake it to have put more truth and\nuntruth together in few words, than in that speech, Whatsoever is\ndelighted in solitude, is either a wild beast or a god. For it is most\ntrue, that a natural and secret hatred, and aversation towards society,\nin any man, hath somewhat of the savage beast; but it is most untrue,\nthat it should have any character at all, of the divine nature; except\nit proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but out of a love and\ndesire to sequester a man's self, for a higher conversation: such as\nis found to have been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathen; as\nEpimenides the Candian, Numa the Roman, Empedocles the Sicilian, and\nApollonius of Tyana; and truly and really, in divers of the ancient\nhermits and holy fathers of the church. But little do men perceive what\nsolitude is, and how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company; and\nfaces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal,\nwhere there is no love. The Latin adage meeteth with it a little: Magna\ncivitas, magna solitudo; because in a great town friends are scattered;\nso that there is not that fellowship, for the most part, which is in\nless neighborhoods. But we may go further, and affirm most truly, that\nit is a mere and miserable solitude to want true friends; without which\nthe world is but a wilderness; and even in this sense also of solitude,\nwhosoever in the frame of his nature and affections, is unfit for\nfriendship, he taketh it of the beast, and not from humanity.\n\nA principal fruit of friendship, is the ease and discharge of the\nfulness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do cause\nand induce. We know diseases of stoppings, and suffocations, are the\nmost dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind;\nyou may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flowers\nof sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt\nopeneth the heart, but a true friend; to whom you may impart griefs,\njoys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the\nheart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession.\n\nIt is a strange thing to observe, how high a rate great kings and\nmonarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship, whereof we speak: so\ngreat, as they purchase it, many times, at the hazard of their own\nsafety and greatness. For princes, in regard of the distance of their\nfortune from that of their subjects and servants, cannot gather this\nfruit, except (to make themselves capable thereof) they raise some\npersons to be, as it were, companions and almost equals to themselves,\nwhich many times sorteth to inconvenience. The modern languages give\nunto such persons the name of favorites, or privadoes; as if it were\nmatter of grace, or conversation. But the Roman name attaineth the true\nuse and cause thereof, naming them participes curarum; for it is that\nwhich tieth the knot. And we see plainly that this hath been done, not\nby weak and passionate princes only, but by the wisest and most politic\nthat ever reigned; who have oftentimes joined to themselves some of\ntheir servants; whom both themselves have called friends, and allowed\nother likewise to call them in the same manner; using the word which is\nreceived between private men.\n\nL. Sylla, when he commanded Rome, raised Pompey (after surnamed\nthe Great) to that height, that Pompey vaunted himself for Sylla's\novermatch. For when he had carried the consulship for a friend of\nhis, against the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a little resent\nthereat, and began to speak great, Pompey turned upon him again, and in\neffect bade him be quiet; for that more men adored the sun rising, than\nthe sun setting. With Julius Caesar, Decimus Brutus had obtained that\ninterest as he set him down in his testament, for heir in remainder,\nafter his nephew. And this was the man that had power with him, to\ndraw him forth to his death. For when Caesar would have discharged\nthe senate, in regard of some ill presages, and specially a dream of\nCalpurnia; this man lifted him gently by the arm out of his chair,\ntelling him he hoped he would not dismiss the senate, till his wife\nhad dreamt a better dream. And it seemeth his favor was so great, as\nAntonius, in a letter which is recited verbatim in one of Cicero's\nPhilippics, calleth him venefica, witch; as if he had enchanted Caesar.\nAugustus raised Agrippa (though of mean birth) to that height, as when\nhe consulted with Maecenas, about the marriage of his daughter Julia,\nMaecenas took the liberty to tell him, that he must either marry his\ndaughter to Agrippa, or take away his life; there was no third way, he\nhad made him so great. With Tiberius Caesar, Sejanus had ascended\nto that height, as they two were termed, and reckoned, as a pair of\nfriends. Tiberius in a letter to him saith, Haec pro amicitia nostra non\noccultavi; and the whole senate dedicated an altar to Friendship, as to\na goddess, in respect of the great dearness of friendship, between them\ntwo. The like, or more, was between Septimius Severus and Plautianus.\nFor he forced his eldest son to marry the daughter of Plautianus; and\nwould often maintain Plautianus, in doing affronts to his son; and did\nwrite also in a letter to the senate, by these words: I love the man so\nwell, as I wish he may over-live me. Now if these princes had been as\na Trajan, or a Marcus Aurelius, a man might have thought that this had\nproceeded of an abundant goodness of nature; but being men so wise, of\nsuch strength and severity of mind, and so extreme lovers of themselves,\nas all these were, it proveth most plainly that they found their own\nfelicity (though as great as ever happened to mortal men) but as an half\npiece, except they mought have a friend, to make it entire; and yet,\nwhich is more, they were princes that had wives, sons, nephews; and yet\nall these could not supply the comfort of friendship.\n\nIt is not to be forgotten, what Comineus observeth of his first master,\nDuke Charles the Hardy, namely, that he would communicate his secrets\nwith none; and least of all, those secrets which troubled him most.\nWhereupon he goeth on, and saith that towards his latter time, that\ncloseness did impair, and a little perish his understanding. Surely\nComineus mought have made the same judgment also, if it had pleased him,\nof his second master, Lewis the Eleventh, whose closeness was indeed his\ntormentor. The parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true; Cor ne edito;\nEat not the heart. Certainly, if a man would give it a hard phrase,\nthose that want friends, to open themselves unto, are cannibals of\ntheir own hearts. But one thing is most admirable (wherewith I\nwill conclude this first fruit of friendship), which is, that this\ncommunicating of a man's self to his friend, works two contrary effects;\nfor it redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves. For there is no\nman, that imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more;\nand no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the\nless. So that it is in truth, of operation upon a man's mind, of like\nvirtue as the alchemists use to attribute to their stone, for man's\nbody; that it worketh all contrary effects, but still to the good and\nbenefit of nature. But yet without praying in aid of alchemists, there\nis a manifest image of this, in the ordinary course of nature. For in\nbodies, union strengtheneth and cherisheth any natural action; and on\nthe other side, weakeneth and dulleth any violent impression: and even\nso it is of minds.\n\nThe second fruit of friendship, is healthful and sovereign for the\nunderstanding, as the first is for the affections. For friendship maketh\nindeed a fair day in the affections, from storm and tempests; but it\nmaketh daylight in the understanding, out of darkness, and confusion\nof thoughts. Neither is this to be understood only of faithful counsel,\nwhich a man receiveth from his friend; but before you come to that,\ncertain it is, that whosoever hath his mind fraught with many thoughts,\nhis wits and understanding do clarify and break up, in the communicating\nand discoursing with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily; he\nmarshalleth them more orderly, he seeth how they look when they are\nturned into words: finally, he waxeth wiser than himself; and that more\nby an hour's discourse, than by a day's meditation. It was well said\nby Themistocles, to the king of Persia, That speech was like cloth of\nArras, opened and put abroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in figure;\nwhereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs. Neither is this second\nfruit of friendship, in opening the understanding, restrained only to\nsuch friends as are able to give a man counsel; (they indeed are best;)\nbut even without that, a man learneth of himself, and bringeth his\nown thoughts to light, and whetteth his wits as against a stone, which\nitself cuts not. In a word, a man were better relate himself to a\nstatua, or picture, than to suffer his thoughts to pass in smother.\n\nAdd now, to make this second fruit of friendship complete, that other\npoint, which lieth more open, and falleth within vulgar observation;\nwhich is faithful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus saith well in one\nof his enigmas, Dry light is ever the best. And certain it is, that the\nlight that a man receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and purer,\nthan that which cometh from his own understanding and judgment; which is\never infused, and drenched, in his affections and customs. So as there\nis as much difference between the counsel, that a friend giveth, and\nthat a man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend,\nand of a flatterer. For there is no such flatterer as is a man's self;\nand there is no such remedy against flattery of a man's self, as\nthe liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two sorts: the one concerning\nmanners, the other concerning business. For the first, the best\npreservative to keep the mind in health, is the faithful admonition of a\nfriend. The calling of a man's self to a strict account, is a medicine,\nsometime too piercing and corrosive. Reading good books of morality,\nis a little flat and dead. Observing our faults in others, is sometimes\nimproper for our case. But the best receipt (best, I say, to work, and\nbest to take) is the admonition of a friend. It is a strange thing to\nbehold, what gross errors and extreme absurdities many (especially of\nthe greater sort) do commit, for want of a friend to tell them of them;\nto the great damage both of their fame and fortune: for, as St. James\nsaith, they are as men that look sometimes into a glass, and presently\nforget their own shape and favor. As for business, a man may think, if\nhe win, that two eyes see no more than one; or that a gamester seeth\nalways more than a looker-on; or that a man in anger, is as wise as he\nthat hath said over the four and twenty letters; or that a musket may be\nshot off as well upon the arm, as upon a rest; and such other fond and\nhigh imaginations, to think himself all in all. But when all is done,\nthe help of good counsel, is that which setteth business straight. And\nif any man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be by pieces;\nasking counsel in one business, of one man, and in another business,\nof another man; it is well (that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he\nasked none at all); but he runneth two dangers: one, that he shall not\nbe faithfully counselled; for it is a rare thing, except it be from a\nperfect and entire friend, to have counsel given, but such as shall\nbe bowed and crooked to some ends, which he hath, that giveth it. The\nother, that he shall have counsel given, hurtful and unsafe (though with\ngood meaning), and mixed partly of mischief and partly of remedy; even\nas if you would call a physician, that is thought good for the cure of\nthe disease you complain of, but is unacquainted with your body; and\ntherefore may put you in way for a present cure, but overthroweth\nyour health in some other kind; and so cure the disease, and kill the\npatient. But a friend that is wholly acquainted with a man's estate,\nwill beware, by furthering any present business, how he dasheth upon\nother inconvenience. And therefore rest not upon scattered counsels;\nthey will rather distract and mislead, than settle and direct.\n\nAfter these two noble fruits of friendship (peace in the affections, and\nsupport of the judgment), followeth the last fruit; which is like the\npomegranate, full of many kernels; I mean aid, and bearing a part, in\nall actions and occasions. Here the best way to represent to life the\nmanifold use of friendship, is to cast and see how many things there\nare, which a man cannot do himself; and then it will appear, that it\nwas a sparing speech of the ancients, to say, that a friend is another\nhimself; for that a friend is far more than himself. Men have\ntheir time, and die many times, in desire of some things which they\nprincipally take to heart; the bestowing of a child, the finishing of\na work, or the like. If a man have a true friend, he may rest almost\nsecure that the care of those things will continue after him. So that a\nman hath, as it were, two lives in his desires. A man hath a body, and\nthat body is confined to a place; but where friendship is, all offices\nof life are as it were granted to him, and his deputy. For he may\nexercise them by his friend. How many things are there which a man\ncannot, with any face or comeliness, say or do himself? A man can scarce\nallege his own merits with modesty, much less extol them; a man cannot\nsometimes brook to supplicate or beg; and a number of the like. But all\nthese things are graceful, in a friend's mouth, which are blushing in a\nman's own. So again, a man's person hath many proper relations, which\nhe cannot put off. A man cannot speak to his son but as a father; to his\nwife but as a husband; to his enemy but upon terms: whereas a friend may\nspeak as the case requires, and not as it sorteth with the person. But\nto enumerate these things were endless; I have given the rule, where a\nman cannot fitly play his own part; if he have not a friend, he may quit\nthe stage.\n\n\n\n\nOf Expense\n\n\nRICHES are for spending, and spending for honor and good actions.\nTherefore extraordinary expense must be limited by the worth of the\noccasion; for voluntary undoing, may be as well for a man's country, as\nfor the kingdom of heaven. But ordinary expense, ought to be limited\nby a man's estate; and governed with such regard, as it be within his\ncompass; and not subject to deceit and abuse of servants; and ordered\nto the best show, that the bills may be less than the estimation abroad.\nCertainly, if a man will keep but of even hand, his ordinary expenses\nought to be but to the half of his receipts; and if he think to wax\nrich, but to the third part. It is no baseness, for the greatest to\ndescend and look into their own estate. Some forbear it, not upon\nnegligence alone, but doubting to bring themselves into melancholy, in\nrespect they shall find it broken. But wounds cannot be cured without\nsearching. He that cannot look into his own estate at all, had need both\nchoose well those whom he employeth, and change them often; for new\nare more timorous and less subtle. He that can look into his estate but\nseldom, it behooveth him to turn all to certainties. A man had need, if\nhe be plentiful in some kind of expense, to be as saving again in some\nother. As if he be plentiful in diet, to be saving in apparel; if he be\nplentiful in the hall, to be saving in the stable; and the like. For\nhe that is plentiful in expenses of all kinds, will hardly be preserved\nfrom decay. In clearing of a man's estate, he may as well hurt himself\nin being too sudden, as in letting it run on too long. For hasty\nselling, is commonly as disadvantageable as interest. Besides, he that\nclears at once will relapse; for finding himself out of straits, he will\nrevert to his custom: but he that cleareth by degrees, induceth a habit\nof frugality, and gaineth as well upon his mind, as upon his estate.\nCertainly, who hath a state to repair, may not despise small things;\nand commonly it is less dishonorable, to abridge petty charges, than to\nstoop to petty gettings. A man ought warily to begin charges which once\nbegun will continue; but in matters that return not, he may be more\nmagnificent.\n\n\n\n\nOf the True Greatness Of Kingdoms And Estates\n\n\nTHE speech of Themistocles the Athenian, which was haughty and arrogant,\nin taking so much to himself, had been a grave and wise observation and\ncensure, applied at large to others. Desired at a feast to touch a lute,\nhe said, He could not fiddle, but yet he could make a small town, a\ngreat city. These words (holpen a little with a metaphor) may express\ntwo differing abilities, in those that deal in business of estate. For\nif a true survey be taken of counsellors and statesmen, there may be\nfound (though rarely) those which can make a small state great, and yet\ncannot fiddle; as on the other side, there will be found a great many,\nthat can fiddle very cunningly, but yet are so far from being able to\nmake a small state great, as their gift lieth the other way; to bring\na great and flourishing estate, to ruin and decay. And certainly whose\ndegenerate arts and shifts, whereby many counsellors and governors gain\nboth favor with their masters, and estimation with the vulgar, deserve\nno better name than fiddling; being things rather pleasing for the\ntime, and graceful to themselves only, than tending to the weal and\nadvancement of the state which they serve. There are also (no doubt)\ncounsellors and governors which may be held sufficient (negotiis pares),\nable to manage affairs, and to keep them from precipices and manifest\ninconveniences; which nevertheless are far from the ability to raise and\namplify an estate in power, means, and fortune. But be the workmen what\nthey may be, let us speak of the work; that is, the true greatness of\nkingdoms and estates, and the means thereof. An argument fit for great\nand mighty princes to have in their hand; to the end that neither by\nover-measuring their forces, they leese themselves in vain enterprises;\nnor on the other side, by undervaluing them, they descend to fearful and\npusillanimous counsels.\n\nThe greatness of an estate, in bulk and territory, doth fall under\nmeasure; and the greatness of finances and revenue, doth fall under\ncomputation. The population may appear by musters; and the number and\ngreatness of cities and towns by cards and maps. But yet there is not\nany thing amongst civil affairs more subject to error, than the right\nvaluation and true judgment concerning the power and forces of an\nestate. The kingdom of heaven is compared, not to any great kernel or\nnut, but to a grain of mustard-seed: which is one of the least grains,\nbut hath in it a property and spirit hastily to get up and spread. So\nare there states, great in territory, and yet not apt to enlarge or\ncommand; and some that have but a small dimension of stem, and yet apt\nto be the foundations of great monarchies.\n\nWalled towns, stored arsenals and armories, goodly races of horse,\nchariots of war, elephants, ordnance, artillery, and the like; all this\nis but a sheep in a lion's skin, except the breed and disposition of the\npeople, be stout and warlike. Nay, number (itself) in armies importeth\nnot much, where the people is of weak courage; for (as Virgil saith) It\nnever troubles a wolf, how many the sheep be. The army of the Persians,\nin the plains of Arbela, was such a vast sea of people, as it did\nsomewhat astonish the commanders in Alexander's army; who came to him\ntherefore, and wished him to set upon them by night; and he answered, He\nwould not pilfer the victory. And the defeat was easy. When Tigranes\nthe Armenian, being encamped upon a hill with four hundred thousand men,\ndiscovered the army of the Romans, being not above fourteen thousand,\nmarching towards him, he made himself merry with it, and said, Yonder\nmen are too many for an embassage, and too few for a fight. But before\nthe sun set, he found them enow to give him the chase with infinite\nslaughter. Many are the examples of the great odds, between number and\ncourage; so that a man may truly make a judgment, that the principal\npoint of greatness in any state, is to have a race of military men.\nNeither is money the sinews of war (as it is trivially said), where the\nsinews of men's arms, in base and effeminate people, are failing. For\nSolon said well to Croesus (when in ostentation he showed him his gold),\nSir, if any other come, that hath better iron, than you, he will be\nmaster of all this gold. Therefore let any prince or state think solely\nof his forces, except his militia of natives be of good and valiant\nsoldiers. And let princes, on the other side, that have subjects of\nmartial disposition, know their own strength; unless they be otherwise\nwanting unto themselves. As for mercenary forces (which is the help in\nthis case), all examples show, that whatsoever estate or prince doth\nrest upon them, he may spread his feathers for a time, but he will mew\nthem soon after.\n\nThe blessing of Judah and Issachar will never meet; that the same\npeople, or nation, should be both the lion's whelp and the ass between\nburthens; neither will it be, that a people overlaid with taxes, should\never become valiant and martial. It is true that taxes levied by\nconsent of the estate, do abate men's courage less: as it hath been seen\nnotably, in the excises of the Low Countries; and, in some degree, in\nthe subsidies of England. For you must note, that we speak now of the\nheart, and not of the purse. So that although the same tribute and tax,\nlaid by consent or by imposing, be all one to the purse, yet it works\ndiversely upon the courage. So that you may conclude, that no people\novercharged with tribute, is fit for empire.\n\nLet states that aim at greatness, take heed how their nobility and\ngentlemen do multiply too fast. For that maketh the common subject, grow\nto be a peasant and base swain, driven out of heart, and in effect but\nthe gentleman's laborer. Even as you may see in coppice woods; if you\nleave your staddles too thick, you shall never have clean underwood, but\nshrubs and bushes. So in countries, if the gentlemen be too many,\nthe commons will be base; and you will bring it to that, that not the\nhundred poll, will be fit for an helmet; especially as to the infantry,\nwhich is the nerve of an army; and so there will be great population,\nand little strength. This which I speak of, hath been nowhere better\nseen, than by comparing of England and France; whereof England, though\nfar less in territory and population, hath been (nevertheless) an\novermatch; in regard the middle people of England make good soldiers,\nwhich the peasants of France do not. And herein the device of king Henry\nthe Seventh (whereof I have spoken largely in the History of his Life)\nwas profound and admirable; in making farms and houses of husbandry of a\nstandard; that is, maintained with such a proportion of land unto them,\nas may breed a subject to live in convenient plenty and no servile\ncondition; and to keep the plough in the hands of the owners, and not\nmere hirelings. And thus indeed you shall attain to Virgil's character\nwhich he gives to ancient Italy:\n\n\nTerra potens armis atque ubere glebae.\n\nNeither is that state (which, for any thing I know, is almost peculiar\nto England, and hardly to be found anywhere else, except it be perhaps\nin Poland) to be passed over; I mean the state of free servants, and\nattendants upon noblemen and gentlemen; which are no ways inferior unto\nthe yeomanry for arms. And therefore out of all questions, the splendor\nand magnificence, and great retinues and hospitality, of noblemen\nand gentlemen, received into custom, doth much conduce unto martial\ngreatness. Whereas, contrariwise, the close and reserved living of\nnoblemen and gentlemen, causeth a penury of military forces.\n\nBy all means it is to be procured, that the trunk of Nebuchadnezzar's\ntree of monarchy, be great enough to bear the branches and the boughs;\nthat is, that the natural subjects of the crown or state, bear\na sufficient proportion to the stranger subjects, that they\ngovern. Therefore all states that are liberal of naturalization towards\nstrangers, are fit for empire. For to think that an handful of people\ncan, with the greatest courage and policy in the world, embrace too\nlarge extent of dominion, it may hold for a time, but it will fail\nsuddenly. The Spartans were a nice people in point of naturalization;\nwhereby, while they kept their compass, they stood firm; but when they\ndid spread, and their boughs were becomen too great for their stem, they\nbecame a windfall, upon the sudden. Never any state was in this point so\nopen to receive strangers into their body, as were the Romans. Therefore\nit sorted with them accordingly; for they grew to the greatest monarchy.\nTheir manner was to grant naturalization (which they called jus\ncivitatis), and to grant it in the highest degree; that is, not only jus\ncommercii, jus connubii, jus haereditatis; but also jus suffragii, and\njus honorum. And this not to singular persons alone, but likewise to\nwhole families; yea to cities, and sometimes to nations. Add to this\ntheir custom of plantation of colonies; whereby the Roman plant was\nremoved into the soil of other nations. And putting both constitutions\ntogether, you will say that it was not the Romans that spread upon the\nworld, but it was the world that spread upon the Romans; and that was\nthe sure way of greatness. I have marvelled, sometimes, at Spain,\nhow they clasp and contain so large dominions, with so few natural\nSpaniards; but sure the whole compass of Spain, is a very great body of\na tree; far above Rome and Sparta at the first. And besides, though they\nhave not had that usage, to naturalize liberally, yet they have that\nwhich is next to it; that is, to employ, almost indifferently, all\nnations in their militia of ordinary soldiers; yea, and sometimes\nin their highest commands. Nay, it seemeth at this instant they are\nsensible, of this want of natives; as by the Pragmatical Sanction, now\npublished, appeareth.\n\nIt is certain that sedentary, and within-door arts, and delicate\nmanufactures (that require rather the finger than the arm), have, in\ntheir nature, a contrariety to a military disposition. And generally,\nall warlike people are a little idle, and love danger better than\ntravail. Neither must they be too much broken of it, if they shall be\npreserved in vigor. Therefore it was great advantage, in the ancient\nstates of Sparta, Athens, Rome, and others, that they had the use\nof slaves, which commonly did rid those manufactures. But that is\nabolished, in greatest part, by the Christian law. That which cometh\nnearest to it, is to leave those arts chiefly to strangers (which, for\nthat purpose, are the more easily to be received), and to contain\nthe principal bulk of the vulgar natives, within those three\nkinds,--tillers of the ground; free servants; and handicraftsmen of\nstrong and manly arts, as smiths, masons, carpenters, etc.; not\nreckoning professed soldiers.\n\nBut above all, for empire and greatness, it importeth most, that a\nnation do profess arms, as their principal honor, study, and occupation.\nFor the things which we formerly have spoken of, are but habilitations\ntowards arms; and what is habilitation without intention and act?\nRomulus, after his death (as they report or feign), sent a present\nto the Romans, that above all, they should intend arms; and then they\nshould prove the greatest empire of the world. The fabric of the state\nof Sparta was wholly (though not wisely) framed and composed, to that\nscope and end. The Persians and Macedonians had it for a flash. The\nGauls, Germans, Goths, Saxons, Normans, and others, had it for a time.\nThe Turks have it at this day, though in great declination. Of Christian\nEurope, they that have it are, in effect, only the Spaniards. But it is\nso plain, that every man profiteth in that, he most intendeth, that\nit needeth not to be stood upon. It is enough to point at it; that no\nnation which doth not directly profess arms, may look to have greatness\nfall into their mouths. And on the other side, it is a most certain\noracle of time, that those states that continue long in that profession\n(as the Romans and Turks principally have done) do wonders. And those\nthat have professed arms but for an age, have, notwithstanding, commonly\nattained that greatness, in that age, which maintained them long after,\nwhen their profession and exercise of arms hath grown to decay.\n\nIncident to this point is, for a state to have those laws or customs,\nwhich may reach forth unto them just occasions (as may be pretended)\nof war. For there is that justice, imprinted in the nature of men, that\nthey enter not upon wars (whereof so many calamities do ensue) but upon\nsome, at the least specious, grounds and quarrels. The Turk hath at\nhand, for cause of war, the propagation of his law or sect; a quarrel\nthat he may always command. The Romans, though they esteemed the\nextending the limits of their empire, to be great honor to their\ngenerals, when it was done, yet they never rested upon that alone, to\nbegin a war. First, therefore, let nations that pretend to greatness\nhave this; that they be sensible of wrongs, either upon borderers,\nmerchants, or politic ministers; and that they sit not too long upon\na provocation. Secondly, let them be prest, and ready to give aids\nand succors, to their confederates; as it ever was with the Romans;\ninsomuch, as if the confederate had leagues defensive, with divers other\nstates, and, upon invasion offered, did implore their aids severally,\nyet the Romans would ever be the foremost, and leave it to none other to\nhave the honor. As for the wars which were anciently made, on the behalf\nof a kind of party, or tacit conformity of estate, I do not see how they\nmay be well justified: as when the Romans made a war, for the liberty of\nGrecia; or when the Lacedaemonians and Athenians, made wars to set up\nor pull down democracies and oligarchies; or when wars were made by\nforeigners, under the pretence of justice or protection, to deliver the\nsubjects of others, from tyranny and oppression; and the like. Let it\nsuffice, that no estate expect to be great, that is not awake upon any\njust occasion of arming.\n\nNo body can be healthful without exercise, neither natural body nor\npolitic; and certainly to a kingdom or estate, a just and honorable war,\nis the true exercise. A civil war, indeed, is like the heat of a fever;\nbut a foreign war is like the heat of exercise, and serveth to keep the\nbody in health; for in a slothful peace, both courages will effeminate,\nand manners corrupt. But howsoever it be for happiness, without all\nquestion, for greatness, it maketh to be still for the most part in\narms; and the strength of a veteran army (though it be a chargeable\nbusiness) always on foot, is that which commonly giveth the law, or at\nleast the reputation, amongst all neighbor states; as may well be seen\nin Spain, which hath had, in one part or other, a veteran army almost\ncontinually, now by the space of six score years.\n\nTo be master of the sea, is an abridgment of a monarchy. Cicero, writing\nto Atticus of Pompey his preparation against Caesar, saith, Consilium\nPompeii plane Themistocleum est; putat enim, qui mari potitur, eum rerum\npotiri. And, without doubt, Pompey had tired out Caesar, if upon vain\nconfidence, he had not left that way. We see the great effects of\nbattles by sea. The battle of Actium, decided the empire of the world.\nThe battle of Lepanto, arrested the greatness of the Turk. There be many\nexamples, where sea-fights have been final to the war; but this is when\nprinces or states have set up their rest, upon the battles. But thus\nmuch is certain, that he that commands the sea, is at great liberty, and\nmay take as much, and as little, of the war as he will. Whereas those\nthat be strongest by land, are many times nevertheless in great straits.\nSurely, at this day, with us of Europe, the vantage of strength at sea\n(which is one of the principal dowries of this kingdom of Great Britain)\nis great; both because most of the kingdoms of Europe, are not merely\ninland, but girt with the sea most part of their compass; and because\nthe wealth of both Indies seems in great part, but an accessory to the\ncommand of the seas.\n\nThe wars of latter ages seem to be made in the dark, in respect of the\nglory, and honor, which reflected upon men from the wars, in ancient\ntime. There be now, for martial encouragement, some degrees and orders\nof chivalry; which nevertheless are conferred promiscuously, upon\nsoldiers and no soldiers; and some remembrance perhaps, upon the\nscutcheon; and some hospitals for maimed soldiers; and such like\nthings. But in ancient times, the trophies erected upon the place of the\nvictory; the funeral laudatives and monuments for those that died in the\nwars; the crowns and garlands personal; the style of emperor, which the\ngreat kings of the world after borrowed; the triumphs of the generals,\nupon their return; the great donatives and largesses, upon the\ndisbanding of the armies; were things able to inflame all men's\ncourages. But above all, that of the triumph, amongst the Romans, was\nnot pageants or gaudery, but one of the wisest and noblest institutions,\nthat ever was. For it contained three things: honor to the general;\nriches to the treasury out of the spoils; and donatives to the army.\nBut that honor, perhaps were not fit for monarchies; except it be in the\nperson of the monarch himself, or his sons; as it came to pass in the\ntimes of the Roman emperors, who did impropriate the actual triumphs to\nthemselves, and their sons, for such wars as they did achieve in person;\nand left only, for wars achieved by subjects, some triumphal garments\nand ensigns to the general.\n\nTo conclude: no man can by care taking (as the Scripture saith) add a\ncubit to his stature, in this little model of a man's body; but in the\ngreat frame of kingdoms and commonwealths, it is in the power of princes\nor estates, to add amplitude and greatness to their kingdoms; for by\nintroducing such ordinances, constitutions, and customs, as we have now\ntouched, they may sow greatness to their posterity and succession. But\nthese things are commonly not observed, but left to take their chance.\n\n\n\n\nOf Regiment Of Health\n\n\nTHERE is a wisdom in this; beyond the rules of physic: a man's own\nobservation, what he finds good of, and what he finds hurt of, is the\nbest physic to preserve health. But it is a safer conclusion to say,\nThis agreeth not well with me, therefore, I will not continue it; than\nthis, I find no offence of this, therefore I may use it. For strength of\nnature in youth, passeth over many excesses, which are owing a man till\nhis age. Discern of the coming on of years, and think not to do the same\nthings still; for age will not be defied. Beware of sudden change, in\nany great point of diet, and, if necessity enforce it, fit the rest to\nit. For it is a secret both in nature and state, that it is safer\nto change many things, than one. Examine thy customs of diet, sleep,\nexercise, apparel, and the like; and try, in any thing thou shalt judge\nhurtful, to discontinue it, by little and little; but so, as if thou\ndost find any inconvenience by the change, thou come back to it again:\nfor it is hard to distinguish that which is generally held good and\nwholesome, from that which is good particularly, and fit for thine own\nbody. To be free-minded and cheerfully disposed, at hours of meat, and\nof sleep, and of exercise, is one of the best precepts of long lasting.\nAs for the passions, and studies of the mind; avoid envy, anxious\nfears; anger fretting inwards; subtle and knotty inquisitions; joys\nand exhilarations in excess; sadness not communicated. Entertain hopes;\nmirth rather than joy; variety of delights, rather than surfeit of them;\nwonder and admiration, and therefore novelties; studies that fill the\nmind with splendid and illustrious objects, as histories, fables, and\ncontemplations of nature. If you fly physic in health altogether, it\nwill be too strange for your body, when you shall need it. If you make\nit too familiar, it will work no extraordinary effect, when sickness\ncometh. I commend rather some diet for certain seasons, than frequent\nuse of physic, except it be grown into a custom. For those diets alter\nthe body more, and trouble it less. Despise no new accident in your\nbody, but ask opinion of it. In sickness, respect health principally;\nand in health, action. For those that put their bodies to endure in\nhealth, may in most sicknesses, which are not very sharp, be cured\nonly with diet, and tendering. Celsus could never have spoken it as a\nphysician, had he not been a wise man withal, when he giveth it for one\nof the great precepts of health and lasting, that a man do vary, and\ninterchange contraries, but with an inclination to the more benign\nextreme: use fasting and full eating, but rather full eating; watching\nand sleep, but rather sleep; sitting and exercise, but rather exercise;\nand the like. So shall nature be cherished, and yet taught masteries.\nPhysicians are, some of them, so pleasing and conformable to the humor\nof the patient, as they press not the true cure of the disease; and some\nother are so regular, in proceeding according to art for the disease, as\nthey respect not sufficiently the condition of the patient. Take one of\na middle temper; or if it may not be found in one man, combine two of\neither sort; and forget not to call as well, the best acquainted with\nyour body, as the best reputed of for his faculty.\n\n\n\n\nOf Suspicion\n\n\nSUSPICIONS amongst thoughts, are like bats amongst birds, they ever\nfly by twilight. Certainly they are to be repressed, or at least well\nguarded: for they cloud the mind; they leese friends; and they check\nwith business, whereby business cannot go on currently and constantly.\nThey dispose kings to tyranny, husbands to jealousy, wise men to\nirresolution and melancholy. They are defects, not in the heart, but\nin the brain; for they take place in the stoutest natures; as in the\nexample of Henry the Seventh of England. There was not a more suspicious\nman, nor a more stout. And in such a composition they do small hurt. For\ncommonly they are not admitted, but with examination, whether they be\nlikely or no. But in fearful natures they gain ground too fast. There\nis nothing makes a man suspect much, more than to know little; and\ntherefore men should remedy suspicion, by procuring to know more, and\nnot to keep their suspicions in smother. What would men have? Do they\nthink, those they employ and deal with, are saints? Do they not think,\nthey will have their own ends, and be truer to themselves, than to\nthem? Therefore there is no better way, to moderate suspicions, than to\naccount upon such suspicions as true, and yet to bridle them as false.\nFor so far a man ought to make use of suspicions, as to provide, as\nif that should be true, that he suspects, yet it may do him no hurt.\nSuspicions that the mind of itself gathers, are but buzzes; but\nsuspicions that are artificially nourished, and put into men's heads,\nby the tales and whisperings of others, have stings. Certainly, the best\nmean, to clear the way in this same wood of suspicions, is frankly to\ncommunicate them with the party, that he suspects; for thereby he shall\nbe sure to know more of the truth of them, than he did before; and\nwithal shall make that party more circumspect, not to give further cause\nof suspicion. But this would not be done to men of base natures; for\nthey, if they find themselves once suspected, will never be true.\nThe Italian says, Sospetto licentia fede; as if suspicion, did give\na passport to faith; but it ought, rather, to kindle it to discharge\nitself.\n\n\n\n\nOf Discourse\n\n\nSOME, in their discourse, desire rather commendation of wit, in being\nable to hold all arguments, than of judgment, in discerning what is\ntrue; as if it were a praise, to know what might be said, and not, what\nshould be thought. Some have certain common places, and themes, wherein\nthey are good and want variety; which kind of poverty is for the most\npart tedious, and when it is once perceived, ridiculous. The honorablest\npart of talk, is to give the occasion; and again to moderate, and\npass to somewhat else; for then a man leads the dance. It is good, in\ndiscourse and speech of conversation, to vary and intermingle speech\nof the present occasion, with arguments, tales with reasons, asking of\nquestions, with telling of opinions, and jest with earnest: for it is a\ndull thing to tire, and, as we say now, to jade, any thing too far. As\nfor jest, there be certain things, which ought to be privileged from\nit; namely, religion, matters of state, great persons, any man's present\nbusiness of importance, and any case that deserveth pity. Yet there\nbe some, that think their wits have been asleep, except they dart out\nsomewhat that is piquant, and to the quick. That is a vein which would\nbe bridled:\n\n\nParce, puer, stimulis, et fortius utere loris.\n\n\nAnd generally, men ought to find the difference, between saltness and\nbitterness. Certainly, he that hath a satirical vein, as he maketh\nothers afraid of his wit, so he had need be afraid of others' memory.\nHe that questioneth much, shall learn much, and content much; but\nespecially, if he apply his questions to the skill of the persons whom\nhe asketh; for he shall give them occasion, to please themselves in\nspeaking, and himself shall continually gather knowledge. But let his\nquestions not be troublesome; for that is fit for a poser. And let him\nbe sure to leave other men, their turns to speak. Nay, if there be any,\nthat would reign and take up all the time, let him find means to take\nthem off, and to bring others on; as musicians use to do, with those\nthat dance too long galliards. If you dissemble, sometimes, your\nknowledge of that you are thought to know, you shall be thought, another\ntime, to know that you know not. Speech of a man's self ought to be\nseldom, and well chosen. I knew one, was wont to say in scorn, He must\nneeds be a wise man, he speaks so much of himself: and there is but one\ncase, wherein a man may commend himself with good grace; and that is\nin commending virtue in another; especially if it be such a virtue,\nwhereunto himself pretendeth. Speech of touch towards others, should\nbe sparingly used; for discourse ought to be as a field, without coming\nhome to any man. I knew two noblemen, of the west part of England,\nwhereof the one was given to scoff, but kept ever royal cheer in his\nhouse; the other would ask, of those that had been at the other's table,\nTell truly, was there never a flout or dry blow given? To which the\nguest would answer, Such and such a thing passed. The lord would say, I\nthought, he would mar a good dinner. Discretion of speech, is more than\neloquence; and to speak agreeably to him, with whom we deal, is more\nthan to speak in good words, or in good order. A good continued speech,\nwithout a good speech of interlocution, shows slowness: and a good reply\nor second speech, without a good settled speech, showeth shallowness\nand weakness. As we see in beasts, that those that are weakest in the\ncourse, are yet nimblest in the turn; as it is betwixt the greyhound and\nthe hare. To use too many circumstances, ere one come to the matter, is\nwearisome; to use none at all, is blunt.\n\n\n\n\nOf Plantations\n\n\nPLANTATIONS are amongst ancient, primitive, and heroical works. When the\nworld was young, it begat more children; but now it is old, it begets\nfewer: for I may justly account new plantations, to be the children\nof former kingdoms. I like a plantation in a pure soil; that is, where\npeople are not displanted, to the end, to plant in others. For else it\nis rather an extirpation, than a plantation. Planting of countries, is\nlike planting of woods; for you must make account to leese almost twenty\nyears' profit, and expect your recompense in the end. For the principal\nthing, that hath been the destruction of most plantations, hath been the\nbase and hasty drawing of profit, in the first years. It is true, speedy\nprofit is not to be neglected, as far as may stand with the good of the\nplantation, but no further. It is a shameful and unblessed thing, to\ntake the scum of people, and wicked condemned men, to be the people with\nwhom you plant; and not only so, but it spoileth the plantation; for\nthey will ever live like rogues, and not fall to work, but be lazy, and\ndo mischief, and spend victuals, and be quickly weary, and then certify\nover to their country, to the discredit of the plantation. The people\nwherewith you plant ought to be gardeners, ploughmen, laborers, smiths,\ncarpenters, joiners, fishermen, fowlers, with some few apothecaries,\nsurgeons, cooks, and bakers. In a country of plantation, first look\nabout, what kind of victual the country yields of itself to hand; as\nchestnuts, walnuts, pineapples, olives, dates, plums, cherries, wild\nhoney, and the like; and make use of them. Then consider what victual or\nesculent things there are, which grow speedily, and within the year; as\nparsnips, carrots, turnips, onions, radish, artichokes of Hierusalem,\nmaize, and the like. For wheat, barley, and oats, they ask too much\nlabor; but with pease and beans you may begin, both because they ask\nless labor, and because they serve for meat, as well as for bread. And\nof rice, likewise cometh a great increase, and it is a kind of meat.\nAbove all, there ought to be brought store of biscuit, oat-meal, flour,\nmeal, and the like, in the beginning, till bread may be had. For beasts,\nor birds, take chiefly such as are least subject to diseases, and\nmultiply fastest; as swine, goats, cocks, hens, turkeys, geese,\nhouse-doves, and the like. The victual in plantations, ought to be\nexpended almost as in a besieged town; that is, with certain allowance.\nAnd let the main part of the ground, employed to gardens or corn, be to\na common stock; and to be laid in, and stored up, and then delivered out\nin proportion; besides some spots of ground, that any particular person\nwill manure for his own private. Consider likewise what commodities, the\nsoil where the plantation is, doth naturally yield, that they may some\nway help to defray the charge of the plantation (so it be not, as was\nsaid, to the untimely prejudice of the main business), as it hath fared\nwith tobacco in Virginia. Wood commonly aboundeth but too much; and\ntherefore timber is fit to be one. If there be iron ore, and streams\nwhereupon to set the mills, iron is a brave commodity where wood\naboundeth. Making of bay-salt, if the climate be proper for it, would\nbe put in experience. Growing silk likewise, if any be, is a likely\ncommodity. Pitch and tar, where store of firs and pines are, will not\nfail. So drugs and sweet woods, where they are, cannot but yield great\nprofit. Soap-ashes likewise, and other things that may be thought\nof. But moil not too much under ground; for the hope of mines is very\nuncertain, and useth to make the planters lazy, in other things. For\ngovernment; let it be in the hands of one, assisted with some counsel;\nand let them have commission to exercise martial laws, with some\nlimitation. And above all, let men make that profit, of being in the\nwilderness, as they have God always, and his service, before their\neyes. Let not the government of the plantation, depend upon too many\ncounsellors, and undertakers, in the country that planteth, but upon a\ntemperate number; and let those be rather noblemen and gentlemen, than\nmerchants; for they look ever to the present gain. Let there be freedom\nfrom custom, till the plantation be of strength; and not only freedom\nfrom custom, but freedom to carry their commodities, where they may make\ntheir best of them, except there be some special cause of caution. Cram\nnot in people, by sending too fast company after company; but rather\nharken how they waste, and send supplies proportionably; but so, as\nthe number may live well in the plantation, and not by surcharge be\nin penury. It hath been a great endangering to the health of some\nplantations, that they have built along the sea and rivers, in marish\nand unwholesome grounds. Therefore, though you begin there, to avoid\ncarriage and like discommodities, yet build still rather upwards from\nthe streams, than along. It concerneth likewise the health of the\nplantation, that they have good store of salt with them, that they may\nuse it in their victuals, when it shall be necessary. If you plant where\nsavages are, do not only entertain them, with trifles and gingles, but\nuse them justly and graciously, with sufficient guard nevertheless; and\ndo not win their favor, by helping them to invade their enemies, but for\ntheir defence it is not amiss; and send oft of them, over to the country\nthat plants, that they may see a better condition than their own, and\ncommend it when they return. When the plantation grows to strength, then\nit is time to plant with women, as well as with men; that the plantation\nmay spread into generations, and not be ever pieced from without. It is\nthe sinfullest thing in the world, to forsake or destitute a plantation\nonce in forwardness; for besides the dishonor, it is the guiltiness of\nblood of many commiserable persons.\n\n\n\n\nOf Riches\n\n\nI CANNOT call riches better than the baggage of virtue. The Roman word\nis better, impedimenta. For as the baggage is to an army, so is riches\nto virtue. It cannot be spared, nor left behind, but it hindereth the\nmarch; yea, and the care of it, sometimes loseth or disturbeth the\nvictory. Of great riches there is no real use, except it be in the\ndistribution; the rest is but conceit. So saith Solomon, Where much is,\nthere are many to consume it; and what hath the owner, but the sight of\nit with his eyes? The personal fruition in any man, cannot reach to\nfeel great riches: there is a custody of them; or a power of dole, and\ndonative of them; or a fame of them; but no solid use to the owner.\nDo you not see what feigned prices, are set upon little stones and\nrarities? and what works of ostentation are undertaken, because there\nmight seem to be some use of great riches? But then you will say, they\nmay be of use, to buy men out of dangers or troubles. As Solomon saith,\nRiches are as a strong hold, in the imagination of the rich man. But\nthis is excellently expressed, that it is in imagination, and not always\nin fact. For certainly great riches, have sold more men, than they have\nbought out. Seek not proud riches, but such as thou mayest get justly,\nuse soberly, distribute cheerfully, and leave contentedly. Yet have no\nabstract nor friarly contempt of them. But distinguish, as Cicero saith\nwell of Rabirius Posthumus, In studio rei amplificandae apparebat, non\navaritiae praedam, sed instrumentum bonitati quaeri. Harken also to\nSolomon, and beware of hasty gathering of riches; Qui festinat ad\ndivitias, non erit insons. The poets feign, that when Plutus (which is\nRiches) is sent from Jupiter, he limps and goes slowly; but when he\nis sent from Pluto, he runs, and is swift of foot. Meaning that riches\ngotten by good means, and just labor, pace slowly; but when they come\nby the death of others (as by the course of inheritance, testaments,\nand the like), they come tumbling upon a man. But it mought be applied\nlikewise to Pluto, taking him for the devil. For when riches come from\nthe devil (as by fraud and oppression, and unjust means), they come upon\nspeed. The ways to enrich are many, and most of them foul. Parsimony is\none of the best, and yet is not innocent; for it withholdeth men from\nworks of liberality and charity. The improvement of the ground, is the\nmost natural obtaining of riches; for it is our great mother's blessing,\nthe earth's; but it is slow. And yet where men of great wealth do stoop\nto husbandry, it multiplieth riches exceedingly. I knew a nobleman in\nEngland, that had the greatest audits of any man in my time; a great\ngrazier, a great sheep-master, a great timber man, a great collier, a\ngreat corn-master, a great lead-man, and so of iron, and a number of\nthe like points of husbandry. So as the earth seemed a sea to him, in\nrespect of the perpetual importation. It was truly observed by one, that\nhimself came very hardly, to a little riches, and very easily, to great\nriches. For when a man's stock is come to that, that he can expect the\nprime of markets, and overcome those bargains, which for their greatness\nare few men's money, and be partner in the industries of younger men, he\ncannot but increase mainly. The gains of ordinary trades and vocations\nare honest; and furthered by two things chiefly: by diligence, and by a\ngood name, for good and fair dealing. But the gains of bargains, are\nof a more doubtful nature; when men shall wait upon others' necessity,\nbroke by servants and instruments to draw them on, put off others\ncunningly, that would be better chapmen, and the like practices, which\nare crafty and naught. As for the chopping of bargains, when a man buys\nnot to hold but to sell over again, that commonly grindeth double, both\nupon the seller, and upon the buyer. Sharings do greatly enrich, if the\nhands be well chosen, that are trusted. Usury is the certainest means of\ngain, though one of the worst; as that whereby a man doth eat his bread,\nin sudore vultus alieni; and besides, doth plough upon Sundays. But yet\ncertain though it be, it hath flaws; for that the scriveners and brokers\ndo value unsound men, to serve their own turn. The fortune in being\nthe first, in an invention or in a privilege, doth cause sometimes a\nwonderful overgrowth in riches; as it was with the first sugar man, in\nthe Canaries. Therefore if a man can play the true logician, to have as\nwell judgment, as invention, he may do great matters; especially if the\ntimes be fit. He that resteth upon gains certain, shall hardly grow\nto great riches; and he that puts all upon adventures, doth oftentimes\nbreak and come to poverty: it is good, therefore, to guard adventures\nwith certainties, that may uphold losses. Monopolies, and coemption of\nwares for re-sale, where they are not restrained, are great means to\nenrich; especially if the party have intelligence, what things are like\nto come into request, and so store himself beforehand. Riches gotten\nby service, though it be of the best rise, yet when they are gotten\nby flattery, feeding humors, and other servile conditions, they may\nbe placed amongst the worst. As for fishing for testaments and\nexecutorships (as Tacitus saith of Seneca, testamenta et orbos tamquam\nindagine capi), it is yet worse; by how much men submit themselves to\nmeaner persons, than in service. Believe not much, them that seem to\ndespise riches; for they despise them, that despair of them; and none\nworse, when they come to them. Be not penny-wise; riches have wings,\nand sometimes they fly away of themselves, sometimes they must be\nset flying, to bring in more. Men leave their riches, either to their\nkindred, or to the public; and moderate portions, prosper best in both.\nA great state left to an heir, is as a lure to all the birds of prey\nround about, to seize on him, if he be not the better stablished in\nyears and judgment. Likewise glorious gifts and foundations, are like\nsacrifices without salt; and but the painted sepulchres of alms, which\nsoon will putrefy, and corrupt inwardly. Therefore measure not thine\nadvancements, by quantity, but frame them by measure: and defer not\ncharities till death; for, certainly, if a man weigh it rightly, he that\ndoth so, is rather liberal of another man's, than of his own.\n\n\n\n\nOf Prophecies\n\n\nI MEAN not to speak of divine prophecies; nor of heathen oracles; nor\nof natural predictions; but only of prophecies that have been of certain\nmemory, and from hidden causes. Saith the Pythonissa to Saul, To-morrow\nthou and thy son shall be with me. Homer hath these verses:\n\n\nAt domus AEneae cunctis dominabitur oris, Et nati natorum, et qui\nnascentur ab illis.\n\n\nA prophecy, as it seems, of the Roman empire. Seneca the tragedian hath\nthese verses:\n\n\n       --Venient annis\n     Saecula seris, quibus Oceanus\n     Vincula rerum laxet, et ingens\n     Pateat Tellus, Tiphysque novos\n     Detegat orbes; nec sit terris\n     Ultima Thule:\n\n\na prophecy of the discovery of America. The daughter of Polycrates,\ndreamed that Jupiter bathed her father, and Apollo anointed him; and it\ncame to pass, that he was crucified in an open place, where the sun\nmade his body run with sweat, and the rain washed it. Philip of Macedon\ndreamed, he sealed up his wife's belly; whereby he did expound it, that\nhis wife should be barren; but Aristander the soothsayer, told him his\nwife was with child, because men do not use to seal vessels, that are\nempty. A phantasm that appeared to M. Brutus, in his tent, said to him,\nPhilippis iterum me videbis. Tiberius said to Galba, Tu quoque, Galba,\ndegustabis imperium. In Vespasian's time, there went a prophecy in the\nEast, that those that should come forth of Judea, should reign over\nthe world: which though it may be was meant of our Savior; yet Tacitus\nexpounds it of Vespasian. Domitian dreamed, the night before he was\nslain, that a golden head was growing, out of the nape of his neck: and\nindeed, the succession that followed him for many years, made golden\ntimes. Henry the Sixth of England, said of Henry the Seventh, when he\nwas a lad, and gave him water, This is the lad that shall enjoy the\ncrown, for which we strive. When I was in France, I heard from one Dr.\nPena, that the Queen Mother, who was given to curious arts, caused the\nKing her husband's nativity to be calculated, under a false name; and\nthe astrologer gave a judgment, that he should be killed in a duel; at\nwhich the Queen laughed, thinking her husband to be above challenges\nand duels: but he was slain upon a course at tilt, the splinters of the\nstaff of Montgomery going in at his beaver. The trivial prophecy, which\nI heard when I was a child, and Queen Elizabeth was in the flower of her\nyears, was,\n\n\n     When hempe is spun\n\n     England's done:\n\nwhereby it was generally conceived, that after the princes had reigned,\nwhich had the principal letters of that word hempe (which were Henry,\nEdward, Mary, Philip, and Elizabeth), England should come to utter\nconfusion; which, thanks be to God, is verified only in the change of\nthe name; for that the King's style, is now no more of England but of\nBritain. There was also another prophecy, before the year of '88, which\nI do not well understand.\n\n\n     There shall be seen upon a day,\n     Between the Baugh and the May,\n     The black fleet of Norway.\n     When that that is come and gone,\n     England build houses of lime and stone,\n     For after wars shall you have none.\n\n\nIt was generally conceived to be meant, of the Spanish fleet that came\nin '88: for that the king of Spain's surname, as they say, is Norway.\nThe prediction of Regiomontanus,\n\n\n     Octogesimus octavus mirabilis annus,\n\n\nwas thought likewise accomplished in the sending of that great fleet,\nbeing the greatest in strength, though not in number, of all that ever\nswam upon the sea. As for Cleon's dream, I think it was a jest. It was,\nthat he was devoured of a long dragon; and it was expounded of a maker\nof sausages, that troubled him exceedingly. There are numbers of\nthe like kind; especially if you include dreams, and predictions of\nastrology. But I have set down these few only, of certain credit, for\nexample. My judgment is, that they ought all to be despised; and\nought to serve but for winter talk by the fireside. Though when I say\ndespised, I mean it as for belief; for otherwise, the spreading, or\npublishing, of them, is in no sort to be despised. For they have done\nmuch mischief; and I see many severe laws made, to suppress them. That\nthat hath given them grace, and some credit, consisteth in three things.\nFirst, that men mark when they hit, and never mark when they miss;\nas they do generally also of dreams. The second is, that probable\nconjectures, or obscure traditions, many times turn themselves into\nprophecies; while the nature of man, which coveteth divination, thinks\nit no peril to foretell that which indeed they do but collect. As that\nof Seneca's verse. For so much was then subject to demonstration, that\nthe globe of the earth had great parts beyond the Atlantic, which\nmought be probably conceived not to be all sea: and adding thereto the\ntradition in Plato's Timaeus, and his Atlanticus, it mought encourage\none to turn it to a prediction. The third and last (which is the great\none) is, that almost all of them, being infinite in number, have been\nimpostures, and by idle and crafty brains merely contrived and feigned,\nafter the event past.\n\n\n\n\nOf Ambition\n\n\nAMBITION is like choler; which is an humor that maketh men active,\nearnest, full of alacrity, and stirring, if it be not stopped. But if\nit be stopped, and cannot have his way, it becometh adust, and thereby\nmalign and venomous. So ambitious men, if they find the way open\nfor their rising, and still get forward, they are rather busy than\ndangerous; but if they be checked in their desires, they become secretly\ndiscontent, and look upon men and matters with an evil eye, and are\nbest pleased, when things go backward; which is the worst property in a\nservant of a prince, or state. Therefore it is good for princes, if they\nuse ambitious men, to handle it, so as they be still progressive and\nnot retrograde; which, because it cannot be without inconvenience, it\nis good not to use such natures at all. For if they rise not with their\nservice, they will take order, to make their service fall with them. But\nsince we have said, it were good not to use men of ambitious natures,\nexcept it be upon necessity, it is fit we speak, in what cases they are\nof necessity. Good commanders in the wars must be taken, be they never\nso ambitious; for the use of their service, dispenseth with the rest;\nand to take a soldier without ambition, is to pull off his spurs. There\nis also great use of ambitious men, in being screens to princes in\nmatters of danger and envy; for no man will take that part, except he be\nlike a seeled dove, that mounts and mounts, because he cannot see about\nhim. There is use also of ambitious men, in pulling down the greatness\nof any subject that overtops; as Tiberius used Marco, in the pulling\ndown of Sejanus. Since, therefore, they must be used in such cases,\nthere resteth to speak, how they are to be bridled, that they may be\nless dangerous. There is less danger of them, if they be of mean birth,\nthan if they be noble; and if they be rather harsh of nature, than\ngracious and popular: and if they be rather new raised, than grown\ncunning, and fortified, in their greatness. It is counted by some, a\nweakness in princes, to have favorites; but it is, of all others,\nthe best remedy against ambitious great-ones. For when the way of\npleasuring, and displeasuring, lieth by the favorite, it is impossible\nany other should be overgreat. Another means to curb them, is to balance\nthem by others, as proud as they. But then there must be some middle\ncounsellors, to keep things steady; for without that ballast, the ship\nwill roll too much. At the least, a prince may animate and inure some\nmeaner persons, to be as it were scourges, to ambitious men. As for the\nhaving of them obnoxious to ruin; if they be of fearful natures, it\nmay do well; but if they be stout and daring, it may precipitate their\ndesigns, and prove dangerous. As for the pulling of them down, if the\naffairs require it, and that it may not be done with safety suddenly,\nthe only way is the interchange, continually, of favors and disgraces;\nwhereby they may not know what to expect, and be, as it were, in a\nwood. Of ambitions, it is less harmful, the ambition to prevail in\ngreat things, than that other, to appear in every thing; for that breeds\nconfusion, and mars business. But yet it is less danger, to have an\nambitious man stirring in business, than great in dependences. He that\nseeketh to be eminent amongst able men, hath a great task; but that\nis ever good for the public. But he, that plots to be the only figure\namongst ciphers, is the decay of a whole age. Honor hath three things in\nit: the vantage ground to do good; the approach to kings and principal\npersons; and the raising of a man's own fortunes. He that hath the\nbest of these intentions, when he aspireth, is an honest man; and that\nprince, that can discern of these intentions in another that aspireth,\nis a wise prince. Generally, let princes and states choose such\nministers, as are more sensible of duty than of using; and such as love\nbusiness rather upon conscience, than upon bravery, and let them discern\na busy nature, from a willing mind.\n\n\n\n\nOf Masques And Triumphs\n\n\nTHESE things are but toys, to come amongst such serious observations.\nBut yet, since princes will have such things, it is better they should\nbe graced with elegancy, than daubed with cost. Dancing to song, is a\nthing of great state and pleasure. I understand it, that the song be\nin quire, placed aloft, and accompanied with some broken music; and the\nditty fitted to the device. Acting in song, especially in dialogues,\nhath an extreme good grace; I say acting, not dancing (for that is a\nmean and vulgar thing); and the voices of the dialogue would be strong\nand manly (a base and a tenor; no treble); and the ditty high and\ntragical; not nice or dainty. Several quires, placed one over against\nanother, and taking the voice by catches, anthem-wise, give great\npleasure. Turning dances into figure, is a childish curiosity. And\ngenerally let it be noted, that those things which I here set down, are\nsuch as do naturally take the sense, and not respect petty wonderments.\nIt is true, the alterations of scenes, so it be quietly and without\nnoise, are things of great beauty and pleasure; for they feed and\nrelieve the eye, before it be full of the same object. Let the scenes\nabound with light, specially colored and varied; and let the masquers,\nor any other, that are to come down from the scene, have some motions\nupon the scene itself, before their coming down; for it draws the eye\nstrangely, and makes it, with great pleasure, to desire to see, that it\ncannot perfectly discern. Let the songs be loud and cheerful, and not\nchirpings or pulings. Let the music likewise be sharp and loud, and well\nplaced. The colors that show best by candle-light are white, carnation,\nand a kind of sea-water-green; and oes, or spangs, as they are of no\ngreat cost, so they are of most glory. As for rich embroidery, it is\nlost and not discerned. Let the suits of the masquers be graceful, and\nsuch as become the person, when the vizors are off; not after examples\nof known attires; Turke, soldiers, mariners', and the like. Let\nanti-masques not be long; they have been commonly of fools, satyrs,\nbaboons, wild-men, antics, beasts, sprites, witches, Ethiops, pigmies,\nturquets, nymphs, rustics, Cupids, statuas moving, and the like. As\nfor angels, it is not comical enough, to put them in anti-masques; and\nanything that is hideous, as devils, giants, is on the other side as\nunfit. But chiefly, let the music of them be recreative, and with some\nstrange changes. Some sweet odors suddenly coming forth, without any\ndrops falling, are, in such a company as there is steam and heat, things\nof great pleasure and refreshment. Double masques, one of men, another\nof ladies, addeth state and variety. But all is nothing except the room\nbe kept clear and neat.\n\nFor justs, and tourneys, and barriers; the glories of them are chiefly\nin the chariots, wherein the challengers make their entry; especially\nif they be drawn with strange beasts: as lions, bears, camels, and the\nlike; or in the devices of their entrance; or in the bravery of their\nliveries; or in the goodly furniture of their horses and armor. But\nenough of these toys.\n\n\n\n\nOf Nature In Men\n\n\nNATURE is often hidden; sometimes overcome; seldom extinguished. Force,\nmaketh nature more violent in the return; doctrine and discourse, maketh\nnature less importune; but custom only doth alter and subdue nature. He\nthat seeketh victory over his nature, let him not set himself too great,\nnor too small tasks; for the first will make him dejected by often\nfailings; and the second will make him a small proceeder, though by\noften prevailings. And at the first let him practise with helps, as\nswimmers do with bladders or rushes; but after a time let him practise\nwith disadvantages, as dancers do with thick shoes. For it breeds great\nperfection, if the practice be harder than the use. Where nature is\nmighty, and therefore the victory hard, the degrees had need be, first\nto stay and arrest nature in time; like to him that would say over the\nfour and twenty letters when he was angry; then to go less in quantity;\nas if one should, in forbearing wine, come from drinking healths, to a\ndraught at a meal; and lastly, to discontinue altogether. But if a man\nhave the fortitude, and resolution, to enfranchise himself at once, that\nis the best:\n\n\n     Optimus ille animi vindex laedentia pectus\n     Vincula qui rupit, dedoluitque semel.\n\n\nNeither is the ancient rule amiss, to bend nature, as a wand, to a\ncontrary extreme, whereby to set it right, understanding it, where the\ncontrary extreme is no vice. Let not a man force a habit upon himself,\nwith a perpetual continuance, but with some intermission. For both the\npause reinforceth the new onset; and if a man that is not perfect,\nbe ever in practice, he shall as well practise his errors, as his\nabilities, and induce one habit of both; and there is no means to help\nthis, but by seasonable intermissions. But let not a man trust his\nvictory over his nature, too far; for nature will lay buried a great\ntime, and yet revive, upon the occasion or temptation. Like as it was\nwith AEsop's damsel, turned from a cat to a woman, who sat very demurely\nat the board's end, till a mouse ran before her. Therefore, let a man\neither avoid the occasion altogether; or put himself often to it, that\nhe may be little moved with it. A man's nature is best perceived in\nprivateness, for there is no affectation; in passion, for that putteth\na man out of his precepts; and in a new case or experiment, for there\ncustom leaveth him. They are happy men, whose natures sort with their\nvocations; otherwise they may say, multum incola fuit anima mea;\nwhen they converse in those things, they do not affect. In studies,\nwhatsoever a man commandeth upon himself, let him set hours for it; but\nwhatsoever is agreeable to his nature, let him take no care for any set\ntimes; for his thoughts will fly to it, of themselves; so as the spaces\nof other business, or studies, will suffice. A man's nature, runs either\nto herbs or weeds; therefore let him seasonably water the one, and\ndestroy the other.\n\n\n\n\nOf Custom And Education\n\n\nMEN'S thoughts, are much according to their inclination; their discourse\nand speeches, according to their learning and infused opinions; but\ntheir deeds, are after as they have been accustomed. And therefore, as\nMachiavel well noteth (though in an evil-favored instance), there is no\ntrusting to the force of nature, nor to the bravery of words, except it\nbe corroborate by custom. His instance is, that for the achieving of a\ndesperate conspiracy, a man should not rest upon the fierceness of any\nman's nature, or his resolute undertakings; but take such an one, as\nhath had his hands formerly in blood. But Machiavel knew not of a Friar\nClement, nor a Ravillac, nor a Jaureguy, nor a Baltazar Gerard; yet his\nrule holdeth still, that nature, nor the engagement of words, are not so\nforcible, as custom. Only superstition is now so well advanced, that men\nof the first blood, are as firm as butchers by occupation; and votary\nresolution, is made equipollent to custom, even in matter of blood. In\nother things, the predominancy of custom is everywhere visible; insomuch\nas a man would wonder, to hear men profess, protest, engage, give great\nwords, and then do, just as they have done before; as if they were dead\nimages, and engines moved only by the wheels of custom. We see also the\nreign or tyranny of custom, what it is. The Indians (I mean the sect\nof their wise men) lay themselves quietly upon a stock of wood, and so\nsacrifice themselves by fire. Nay, the wives strive to be burned, with\nthe corpses of their husbands. The lads of Sparta, of ancient time,\nwere wont to be scourged upon the altar of Diana, without so much as\nqueching. I remember, in the beginning of Queen Elizabeth's time of\nEngland, an Irish rebel condemned, put up a petition to the deputy, that\nhe might be hanged in a withe, and not in an halter; because it had been\nso used, with former rebels. There be monks in Russia, for penance, that\nwill sit a whole night in a vessel of water, till they be engaged with\nhard ice. Many examples may be put of the force of custom, both upon\nmind and body. Therefore, since custom is the principal magistrate\nof man's life, let men by all means endeavor, to obtain good customs.\nCertainly custom is most perfect, when it beginneth in young years: this\nwe call education; which is, in effect, but an early custom. So we see,\nin languages, the tongue is more pliant to all expressions and sounds,\nthe joints are more supple, to all feats of activity and motions, in\nyouth than afterwards. For it is true, that late learners cannot so\nwell take the ply; except it be in some minds, that have not suffered\nthemselves to fix, but have kept themselves open, and prepared to\nreceive continual amendment, which is exceeding rare. But if the force\nof custom simple and separate, be great, the force of custom copulate\nand conjoined and collegiate, is far greater. For there example\nteacheth, company comforteth, emulation quickeneth, glory raiseth: so as\nin such places the force of custom is in his exaltation. Certainly\nthe great multiplication of virtues upon human nature, resteth upon\nsocieties well ordained and disciplined. For commonwealths, and good\ngovernments, do nourish virtue grown but do not much mend the deeds.\nBut the misery is, that the most effectual means, are now applied to the\nends, least to be desired.\n\n\n\n\nOf Fortune\n\n\nIT CANNOT be denied, but outward accidents conduce much to fortune;\nfavor, opportunity, death of others, occasion fitting virtue. But\nchiefly, the mould of a man's fortune is in his own hands. Faber quisque\nfortunae suae, saith the poet. And the most frequent of external causes\nis, that the folly of one man, is the fortune of another. For no man\nprospers so suddenly, as by others' errors. Serpens nisi serpentem\ncomederit non fit draco. Overt and apparent virtues, bring forth praise;\nbut there be secret and hidden virtues, that bring forth fortune;\ncertain deliveries of a man's self, which have no name. The Spanish\nname, desemboltura, partly expresseth them; when there be not stonds nor\nrestiveness in a man's nature; but that the wheels of his mind, keep way\nwith the wheels of his fortune. For so Livy (after he had described Cato\nMajor in these words, In illo viro tantum robur corporis et animi fuit,\nut quocunque loco natus esset, fortunam sibi facturus videretur) falleth\nupon that, that he had versatile ingenium. Therefore if a man look\nsharply and attentively, he shall see Fortune: for though she be blind,\nyet she is not invisible. The way of fortune, is like the Milken Way in\nthe sky; which is a meeting or knot of a number of small stars; not seen\nasunder, but giving light together. So are there a number of little, and\nscarce discerned virtues, or rather faculties and customs, that make men\nfortunate. The Italians note some of them, such as a man would little\nthink. When they speak of one that cannot do amiss, they will throw in,\ninto his other conditions, that he hath Poco di matto. And certainly\nthere be not two more fortunate properties, than to have a little of the\nfool, and not too much of the honest. Therefore extreme lovers of their\ncountry or masters, were never fortunate, neither can they be. For when\na man placeth his thoughts without himself, he goeth not his own way.\nAn hasty fortune maketh an enterpriser and remover (the French hath it\nbetter, entreprenant, or remuant); but the exercised fortune maketh the\nable man. Fortune is to be honored and respected, and it be but for her\ndaughters, Confidence and Reputation. For those two, Felicity breedeth;\nthe first within a man's self, the latter in others towards him. All\nwise men, to decline the envy of their own virtues, use to ascribe them\nto Providence and Fortune; for so they may the better assume them: and,\nbesides, it is greatness in a man, to be the care of the higher powers.\nSo Caesar said to the pilot in the tempest, Caesarem portas, et fortunam\nejus. So Sylla chose the name of Felix, and not of Magnus. And it hath\nbeen noted, that those who ascribe openly too much to their own wisdom\nand policy, end infortunate. It is written that Timotheus the Athenian,\nafter he had, in the account he gave to the state of his government,\noften interlaced this speech, and in this, Fortune had no part, never\nprospered in anything, he undertook afterwards. Certainly there be,\nwhose fortunes are like Homer's verses, that have a slide and easiness\nmore than the verses of other poets; as Plutarch saith of Timoleon's\nfortune, in respect of that of Agesilaus or Epaminondas. And that this\nshould be, no doubt it is much, in a man's self.\n\n\n\n\nOf Usury\n\n\nMANY have made witty invectives against usury. They say that it is a\npity, the devil should have God's part, which is the tithe. That the\nusurer is the greatest Sabbath-breaker, because his plough goeth every\nSunday. That the usurer is the drone, that Virgil speaketh of;\n\n\n     Ignavum fucos pecus a praesepibus arcent.\n\nThat the usurer breaketh the first law, that was made for mankind after\nthe fall, which was, in sudore vultus tui comedes panem tuum; not, in\nsudore vultus alieni. That usurers should have orange-tawny bonnets,\nbecause they do judaize. That it is against nature for money to beget\nmoney; and the like. I say this only, that usury is a concessum propter\nduritiem cordis; for since there must be borrowing and lending, and\nmen are so hard of heart, as they will not lend freely, usury must be\npermitted. Some others, have made suspicious and cunning propositions\nof banks, discovery of men's estates, and other inventions. But few have\nspoken of usury usefully. It is good to set before us, the incommodities\nand commodities of usury, that the good, may be either weighed out or\nculled out; and warily to provide, that while we make forth to that\nwhich is better, we meet not with that which is worse.\n\nThe discommodities of usury are, First, that it makes fewer merchants.\nFor were it not for this lazy trade of usury, money would not be still,\nbut would in great part be employed upon merchandizing; which is\nthe vena porta of wealth in a state. The second, that it makes poor\nmerchants. For, as a farmer cannot husband his ground so well, if he sit\nat a great rent; so the merchant cannot drive his trade so well, if he\nsit at great usury. The third is incident to the other two; and that\nis the decay of customs of kings or states, which ebb or flow, with\nmerchandizing. The fourth, that it bringeth the treasure of a realm, or\nstate, into a few hands. For the usurer being at certainties, and others\nat uncertainties, at the end of the game, most of the money will be\nin the box; and ever a state flourisheth, when wealth is more equally\nspread. The fifth, that it beats down the price of land; for the\nemployment of money, is chiefly either merchandizing or purchasing;\nand usury waylays both. The sixth, that it doth dull and damp all\nindustries, improvements, and new inventions, wherein money would be\nstirring, if it were not for this slug. The last, that it is the canker\nand ruin of many men's estates; which, in process of time, breeds a\npublic poverty.\n\nOn the other side, the commodities of usury are, first, that howsoever\nusury in some respect hindereth merchandizing, yet in some other it\nadvanceth it; for it is certain that the greatest part of trade is\ndriven by young merchants, upon borrowing at interest; so as if the\nusurer either call in, or keep back, his money, there will ensue,\npresently, a great stand of trade. The second is, that were it not for\nthis easy borrowing upon interest, men's necessities would draw upon\nthem a most sudden undoing; in that they would be forced to sell their\nmeans (be it lands or goods) far under foot; and so, whereas usury doth\nbut gnaw upon them, bad markets would swallow them quite up. As for\nmortgaging or pawning, it will little mend the matter: for either men\nwill not take pawns without use; or if they do, they will look precisely\nfor the forfeiture. I remember a cruel moneyed man in the country, that\nwould say, The devil take this usury, it keeps us from forfeitures,\nof mortgages and bonds. The third and last is, that it is a vanity to\nconceive, that there would be ordinary borrowing without profit; and it\nis impossible to conceive, the number of inconveniences that will ensue,\nif borrowing be cramped. Therefore to speak of the abolishing of usury\nis idle. All states have ever had it, in one kind or rate, or other. So\nas that opinion must be sent to Utopia.\n\nTo speak now of the reformation, and reiglement, of usury; how the\ndiscommodities of it may be best avoided, and the commodities retained.\nIt appears, by the balance of commodities and discommodities of usury,\ntwo things are to be reconciled. The one, that the tooth of usury be\ngrinded, that it bite not too much; the other, that there be left open\na means, to invite moneyed men to lend to the merchants, for the\ncontinuing and quickening of trade. This cannot be done, except you\nintroduce two several sorts of usury, a less and a greater. For if you\nreduce usury to one low rate, it will ease the common borrower, but\nthe merchant will be to seek for money. And it is to be noted, that the\ntrade of merchandize, being the most lucrative, may bear usury at a good\nrate; other contracts not so.\n\nTo serve both intentions, the way would be briefly thus. That there be\ntwo rates of usury: the one free, and general for all; the other\nunder license only, to certain persons, and in certain places of\nmerchandizing. First, therefore, let usury in general, be reduced to\nfive in the hundred; and let that rate be proclaimed, to be free and\ncurrent; and let the state shut itself out, to take any penalty for the\nsame. This will preserve borrowing, from any general stop or dryness.\nThis will ease infinite borrowers in the country. This will, in good\npart, raise the price of land, because land purchased at sixteen years'\npurchase will yield six in the hundred, and somewhat more; whereas this\nrate of interest, yields but five. This by like reason will encourage,\nand edge, industrious and profitable improvements; because many will\nrather venture in that kind, than take five in the hundred, especially\nhaving been used to greater profit. Secondly, let there be certain\npersons licensed, to lend to known merchants, upon usury at a higher\nrate; and let it be with the cautions following. Let the rate be, even\nwith the merchant himself, somewhat more easy than that he used formerly\nto pay; for by that means, all borrowers, shall have some ease by this\nreformation, be he merchant, or whosoever. Let it be no bank or common\nstock, but every man be master of his own money. Not that I altogether\nmislike banks, but they will hardly be brooked, in regard of certain\nsuspicions. Let the state be answered some small matter for the license,\nand the rest left to the lender; for if the abatement be but small,\nit will no whit discourage the lender. For he, for example, that took\nbefore ten or nine in the hundred, will sooner descend to eight in the\nhundred than give over his trade of usury, and go from certain gains, to\ngains of hazard. Let these licensed lenders be in number indefinite, but\nrestrained to certain principal cities and towns of merchandizing;\nfor then they will be hardly able to color other men's moneys in the\ncountry: so as the license of nine will not suck away the current rate\nof five; for no man will send his moneys far off, nor put them into\nunknown hands.\n\nIf it be objected that this doth in a sort authorize usury, which\nbefore, was in some places but permissive; the answer is, that it is\nbetter to mitigate usury, by declaration, than to suffer it to rage, by\nconnivance.\n\n\n\n\nOf Youth And Age\n\n\nA MAN that is young in years, may be old in hours, if he have lost no\ntime. But that happeneth rarely. Generally, youth is like the first\ncogitations, not so wise as the second. For there is a youth in\nthoughts, as well as in ages. And yet the invention of young men, is\nmore lively than that of old; and imaginations stream into their minds\nbetter, and, as it were, more divinely. Natures that have much heat, and\ngreat and violent desires and perturbations, are not ripe for action,\ntill they have passed the meridian of their years; as it was with\nJulius Caesar and Septimius Severus. Of the latter, of whom it is said,\nJuventutem egit erroribus, imo furoribus, plenam. And yet he was the\nablest emperor, almost, of all the list. But reposed natures may do well\nin youth. As it is seen in Augustus Caesar, Cosmus Duke of Florence,\nGaston de Foix, and others. On the other side, heat and vivacity in\nage, is an excellent composition for business. Young men are fitter\nto invent, than to judge; fitter for execution, than for counsel; and\nfitter for new projects, than for settled business. For the experience\nof age, in things that fall within the compass of it, directeth them;\nbut in new things, abuseth them.\n\nThe errors of young men, are the ruin of business; but the errors of\naged men, amount but to this, that more might have been done, or sooner.\nYoung men, in the conduct and manage of actions, embrace more than\nthey can hold; stir more than they can quiet; fly to the end, without\nconsideration of the means and degrees; pursue some few principles,\nwhich they have chanced upon absurdly; care not to innovate, which draws\nunknown inconveniences; use extreme remedies at first; and, that which\ndoubleth all errors, will not acknowledge or retract them; like an\nunready horse, that will neither stop nor turn. Men of age object too\nmuch, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too soon, and\nseldom drive business home to the full period, but content themselves\nwith a mediocrity of success. Certainly it is good to compound\nemployments of both; for that will be good for the present, because the\nvirtues of either age, may correct the defects of both; and good for\nsuccession, that young men may be learners, while men in age are actors;\nand, lastly, good for extern accidents, because authority followeth old\nmen, and favor and popularity, youth. But for the moral part, perhaps\nyouth will have the pre-eminence, as age hath for the politic. A certain\nrabbin, upon the text, Your young men shall see visions, and your old\nmen shall dream dreams, inferreth that young men, are admitted nearer to\nGod than old, because vision, is a clearer revelation, than a dream.\nAnd certainly, the more a man drinketh of the world, the more it\nintoxicateth; and age doth profit rather in the powers of understanding,\nthan in the virtues of the will and affections. There be some, have an\nover-early ripeness in their years, which fadeth betimes. These are,\nfirst, such as have brittle wits, the edge whereof is soon turned; such\nas was Hermogenes the rhetorician, whose books are exceeding subtle;\nwho afterwards waxed stupid. A second sort, is of those that have some\nnatural dispositions which have better grace in youth, than in age; such\nas is a fluent and luxuriant speech; which becomes youth well, but not\nage: so Tully saith of Hortensius, Idem manebat, neque idem decebat.\nThe third is of such, as take too high a strain at the first, and\nare magnanimous, more than tract of years can uphold. As was Scipio\nAfricanus, of whom Livy saith in effect, Ultima primis cedebant.\n\n\n\n\nOf Beauty\n\n\nVIRTUE is like a rich stone, best plain set; and surely virtue is best,\nin a body that is comely, though not of delicate features; and that hath\nrather dignity of presence, than beauty of aspect. Neither is it almost\nseen, that very beautiful persons are otherwise of great virtue; as\nif nature were rather busy, not to err, than in labor to produce\nexcellency. And therefore they prove accomplished, but not of great\nspirit; and study rather behavior, than virtue. But this holds not\nalways: for Augustus Caesar, Titus Vespasianus, Philip le Belle of\nFrance, Edward the Fourth of England, Alcibiades of Athens, Ismael\nthe Sophy of Persia, were all high and great spirits; and yet the most\nbeautiful men of their times. In beauty, that of favor, is more than\nthat of color; and that of decent and gracious motion, more than that of\nfavor. That is the best part of beauty, which a picture cannot express;\nno, nor the first sight of the life. There is no excellent beauty, that\nhath not some strangeness in the proportion. A man cannot tell whether\nApelles, or Albert Durer, were the more trifler; whereof the one, would\nmake a personage by geometrical proportions; the other, by taking the\nbest parts out of divers faces, to make one excellent. Such personages,\nI think, would please nobody, but the painter that made them. Not but I\nthink a painter may make a better face than ever was; but he must do\nit by a kind of felicity (as a musician that maketh an excellent air in\nmusic), and not by rule. A man shall see faces, that if you examine them\npart by part, you shall find never a good; and yet altogether do well.\nIf it be true that the principal part of beauty is in decent motion,\ncertainly it is no marvel, though persons in years seem many times more\namiable; pulchrorum autumnus pulcher; for no youth can be comely but by\npardon, and considering the youth, as to make up the comeliness. Beauty\nis as summer fruits, which are easy to corrupt, and cannot last; and\nfor the most part it makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of\ncountenance; but yet certainly again, if it light well, it maketh virtue\nshine, and vices blush.\n\n\n\n\nOf Deformity\n\n\nDEFORMED persons are commonly even with nature; for as nature hath\ndone ill by them, so do they by nature; being for the most part (as\nthe Scripture saith) void of natural affection; and so they have their\nrevenge of nature. Certainly there is a consent, between the body and\nthe mind; and where nature erreth in the one, she ventureth in the\nother. Ubi peccat in uno, periclitatur in altero. But because there is,\nin man, an election touching the frame of his mind, and a necessity in\nthe frame of his body, the stars of natural inclination are sometimes\nobscured, by the sun of discipline and virtue. Therefore it is good to\nconsider of deformity, not as a sign, which is more deceivable; but as a\ncause, which seldom faileth of the effect. Whosoever hath anything fixed\nin his person, that doth induce contempt, hath also a perpetual spur\nin himself, to rescue and deliver himself from scorn. Therefore all\ndeformed persons, are extreme bold. First, as in their own defence, as\nbeing exposed to scorn; but in process of time, by a general habit. Also\nit stirreth in them industry, and especially of this kind, to watch and\nobserve the weakness of others, that they may have somewhat to repay.\nAgain, in their superiors, it quencheth jealousy towards them, as\npersons that they think they may, at pleasure, despise: and it layeth\ntheir competitors and emulators asleep; as never believing they should\nbe in possibility of advancement, till they see them in possession.\nSo that upon the matter, in a great wit, deformity is an advantage to\nrising. Kings in ancient times (and at this present in some countries)\nwere wont to put great trust in eunuchs; because they that are envious\ntowards all are more obnoxious and officious, towards one. But yet\ntheir trust towards them, hath rather been as to good spials, and good\nwhisperers, than good magistrates and officers. And much like is the\nreason of deformed persons. Still the ground is, they will, if they be\nof spirit, seek to free themselves from scorn; which must be either by\nvirtue or malice; and therefore let it not be marvelled, if sometimes\nthey prove excellent persons; as was Agesilaus, Zanger the son of\nSolyman, AEsop, Gasca, President of Peru; and Socrates may go likewise\namongst them; with others.\n\n\n\n\nOf Building\n\n\nHOUSES are built to live in, and not to look on; therefore let use be\npreferred before uniformity, except where both may be had. Leave the\ngoodly fabrics of houses, for beauty only, to the enchanted palaces of\nthe poets; who build them with small cost. He that builds a fair house,\nupon an ill seat, committeth himself to prison. Neither do I reckon it\nan ill seat, only where the air is unwholesome; but likewise where the\nair is unequal; as you shall see many fine seats set upon a knap of\nground, environed with higher hills round about it; whereby the heat\nof the sun is pent in, and the wind gathereth as in troughs; so as you\nshall have, and that suddenly, as great diversity of heat and cold as if\nyou dwelt in several places. Neither is it ill air only that maketh\nan ill seat, but ill ways, ill markets; and, if you will consult with\nMomus, ill neighbors. I speak not of many more; want of water; want of\nwood, shade, and shelter; want of fruitfulness, and mixture of grounds\nof several natures; want of prospect; want of level grounds; want of\nplaces at some near distance for sports of hunting, hawking, and races;\ntoo near the sea, too remote; having the commodity of navigable rivers,\nor the discommodity of their overflowing; too far off from great\ncities, which may hinder business, or too near them, which lurcheth all\nprovisions, and maketh everything dear; where a man hath a great living\nlaid together, and where he is scanted: all which, as it is impossible\nperhaps to find together, so it is good to know them, and think of them,\nthat a man may take as many as he can; and if he have several dwellings,\nthat he sort them so that what he wanteth in the one, he may find in\nthe other. Lucullus answered Pompey well; who, when he saw his stately\ngalleries, and rooms so large and lightsome, in one of his houses, said,\nSurely an excellent place for summer, but how do you in winter? Lucullus\nanswered, Why, do you not think me as wise as some fowl are, that ever\nchange their abode towards the winter?\n\nTo pass from the seat, to the house itself; we will do as Cicero doth\nin the orator's art; who writes books De Oratore, and a book he entitles\nOrator; whereof the former, delivers the precepts of the art, and the\nlatter, the perfection. We will therefore describe a princely palace,\nmaking a brief model thereof. For it is strange to see, now in Europe,\nsuch huge buildings as the Vatican and Escurial and some others be, and\nyet scarce a very fair room in them.\n\nFirst, therefore, I say you cannot have a perfect palace except you have\ntwo several sides; a side for the banquet, as it is spoken of in the\nbook of Hester, and a side for the household; the one for feasts and\ntriumphs, and the other for dwelling. I understand both these sides to\nbe not only returns, but parts of the front; and to be uniform without,\nthough severally partitioned within; and to be on both sides of a great\nand stately tower, in the midst of the front, that, as it were, joineth\nthem together on either hand. I would have on the side of the banquet,\nin front, one only goodly room above stairs, of some forty foot high;\nand under it a room for a dressing, or preparing place, at times of\ntriumphs. On the other side, which is the household side, I wish\nit divided at the first, into a hall and a chapel (with a partition\nbetween); both of good state and bigness; and those not to go all the\nlength, but to have at the further end, a winter and a summer parlor,\nboth fair. And under these rooms, a fair and large cellar, sunk under\nground; and likewise some privy kitchens, with butteries and pantries,\nand the like. As for the tower, I would have it two stories, of eighteen\nfoot high apiece, above the two wings; and a goodly leads upon the\ntop, railed with statuas interposed; and the same tower to be divided\ninto rooms, as shall be thought fit. The stairs likewise to the upper\nrooms, let them be upon a fair open newel, and finely railed in, with\nimages of wood, cast into a brass color; and a very fair landing-place\nat the top. But this to be, if you do not point any of the lower rooms,\nfor a dining place of servants. For otherwise, you shall have the\nservants' dinner after your own: for the steam of it, will come up as in\na tunnel. And so much for the front. Only I understand the height of the\nfirst stairs to be sixteen foot, which is the height of the lower room.\n\nBeyond this front, is there to be a fair court, but three sides of it,\nof a far lower building than the front. And in all the four corners of\nthat court, fair staircases, cast into turrets, on the outside, and not\nwithin the row of buildings themselves. But those towers, are not to\nbe of the height of the front, but rather proportionable to the lower\nbuilding. Let the court not be paved, for that striketh up a great heat\nin summer, and much cold in winter. But only some side alleys, with a\ncross, and the quarters to graze, being kept shorn, but not too near\nshorn. The row of return on the banquet side, let it be all stately\ngalleries: in which galleries let there be three, or five, fine cupolas\nin the length of it, placed at equal distance; and fine colored windows\nof several works. On the household side, chambers of presence and\nordinary entertainments, with some bed-chambers; and let all three sides\nbe a double house, without thorough lights on the sides, that you may\nhave rooms from the sun, both for forenoon and afternoon. Cast it also,\nthat you may have rooms, both for summer and winter; shady for summer,\nand warm for winter. You shall have sometimes fair houses so full of\nglass, that one cannot tell where to become, to be out of the sun or\ncold. For inbowed windows, I hold them of good use (in cities, indeed,\nupright do better, in respect of the uniformity towards the street); for\nthey be pretty retiring places for conference; and besides, they keep\nboth the wind and sun off; for that which would strike almost through\nthe room, doth scarce pass the window. But let them be but few, four in\nthe court, on the sides only.\n\nBeyond this court, let there be an inward court, of the same square and\nheight; which is to be environed with the garden on all sides; and in\nthe inside, cloistered on all sides, upon decent and beautiful arches,\nas high as the first story. On the under story, towards the garden, let\nit be turned to a grotto, or a place of shade, or estivation. And only\nhave opening and windows towards the garden; and be level upon the\nfloor, no whit sunken under ground, to avoid all dampishness. And let\nthere be a fountain, or some fair work of statuas, in the midst of this\ncourt; and to be paved as the other court was. These buildings to be for\nprivy lodgings on both sides; and the end for privy galleries. Whereof\nyou must foresee that one of them be for an infirmary, if the prince\nor any special person should be sick, with chambers, bed-chamber,\nantecamera, and recamera joining to it. This upon the second story. Upon\nthe ground story, a fair gallery, open, upon pillars; and upon the third\nstory likewise, an open gallery, upon pillars, to take the prospect and\nfreshness of the garden. At both corners of the further side, by way\nof return, let there be two delicate or rich cabinets, daintily paved,\nrichly hanged, glazed with crystalline glass, and a rich cupola in the\nmidst; and all other elegancy that may be thought upon. In the upper\ngallery too, I wish that there may be, if the place will yield it,\nsome fountains running in divers places from the wall, with some fine\navoidances. And thus much for the model of the palace; save that you\nmust have, before you come to the front, three courts. A green court\nplain, with a wall about it; a second court of the same, but more\ngarnished, with little turrets, or rather embellishments, upon the wall;\nand a third court, to make a square with the front, but not to be built,\nnor yet enclosed with a naked wall, but enclosed with terraces, leaded\naloft, and fairly garnished, on the three sides; and cloistered on the\ninside, with pillars, and not with arches below. As for offices, let\nthem stand at distance, with some low galleries, to pass from them to\nthe palace itself.\n\n\n\n\nOf Gardens\n\n\nGOD Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed it is the purest of\nhuman pleasures. It is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man;\nwithout which, buildings and palaces are but gross handiworks; and a man\nshall ever see, that when ages grow to civility and elegancy, men come\nto build stately sooner than to garden finely; as if gardening were\nthe greater perfection. I do hold it, in the royal ordering of gardens,\nthere ought to be gardens, for all the months in the year; in which\nseverally things of beauty may be then in season. For December, and\nJanuary, and the latter part of November, you must take such things as\nare green all winter: holly; ivy; bays; juniper; cypress-trees; yew;\npine-apple-trees; fir-trees; rosemary; lavender; periwinkle, the white,\nthe purple, and the blue; germander; flags; orange-trees; lemon-trees;\nand myrtles, if they be stoved; and sweet marjoram, warm set.\nThere followeth, for the latter part of January and February, the\nmezereon-tree, which then blossoms; crocus vernus, both the yellow and\nthe grey; primroses, anemones; the early tulippa; hyacinthus orientalis;\nchamairis; fritellaria. For March, there come violets, specially the\nsingle blue, which are the earliest; the yellow daffodil; the daisy; the\nalmond-tree in blossom; the peach-tree in blossom; the cornelian-tree\nin blossom; sweet-briar. In April follow the double white violet; the\nwallflower; the stock-gilliflower; the cowslip; flowerdelices, and\nlilies of all natures; rosemary-flowers; the tulippa; the double peony;\nthe pale daffodil; the French honeysuckle; the cherry-tree in blossom;\nthe damson and plum-trees in blossom; the white thorn in leaf; the\nlilac-tree. In May and June come pinks of all sorts, specially the\nblushpink; roses of all kinds, except the musk, which comes later;\nhoneysuckles; strawberries; bugloss; columbine; the French marigold,\nflos Africanus; cherry-tree in fruit; ribes; figs in fruit; rasps;\nvineflowers; lavender in flowers; the sweet satyrian, with the white\nflower; herba muscaria; lilium convallium; the apple-tree in blossom.\nIn July come gilliflowers of all varieties; musk-roses; the lime-tree in\nblossom; early pears and plums in fruit; jennetings, codlins. In\nAugust come plums of all sorts in fruit; pears; apricocks; berberries;\nfilberds; musk-melons; monks-hoods, of all colors. In September come\ngrapes; apples; poppies of all colors; peaches; melocotones; nectarines;\ncornelians; wardens; quinces. In October and the beginning of November\ncome services; medlars; bullaces; roses cut or removed to come late;\nhollyhocks; and such like. These particulars are for the climate of\nLondon; but my meaning is perceived, that you may have ver perpetuum, as\nthe place affords.\n\nAnd because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it\ncomes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand, therefore\nnothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers\nand plants that do best perfume the air. Roses, damask and red, are fast\nflowers of their smells; so that you may walk by a whole row of them,\nand find nothing of their sweetness; yea though it be in a morning's\ndew. Bays likewise yield no smell as they grow. Rosemary little; nor\nsweet marjoram. That which above all others yields the sweetest smell\nin the air is the violet, specially the white double violet, which comes\ntwice a year; about the middle of April, and about Bartholomew-tide.\nNext to that is the musk-rose. Then the strawberry-leaves dying, which\nyield a most excellent cordial smell. Then the flower of vines; it is\na little dust, like the dust of a bent, which grows upon the cluster in\nthe first coming forth. Then sweet-briar. Then wall-flowers, which are\nvery delightful to be set under a parlor or lower chamber window.\nThen pinks and gilliflowers, especially the matted pink and clove\ngilliflower. Then the flowers of the lime-tree. Then the honeysuckles,\nso they be somewhat afar off. Of beanflowers I speak not, because they\nare field flowers. But those which perfume the air most delightfully,\nnot passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are\nthree; that is, burnet, wildthyme, and watermints. Therefore you are to\nset whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread.\n\nFor gardens (speaking of those which are indeed princelike, as we have\ndone of buildings), the contents ought not well to be under thirty acres\nof ground; and to be divided into three parts; a green in the entrance;\na heath or desert in the going forth; and the main garden in the midst;\nbesides alleys on both sides. And I like well that four acres of ground\nbe assigned to the green; six to the heath; four and four to either\nside; and twelve to the main garden. The green hath two pleasures: the\none, because nothing is more pleasant to the eye than green grass kept\nfinely shorn; the other, because it will give you a fair alley in the\nmidst, by which you may go in front upon a stately hedge, which is to\nenclose the garden. But because the alley will be long, and, in great\nheat of the year or day, you ought not to buy the shade in the garden,\nby going in the sun through the green, therefore you are, of either side\nthe green, to plant a covert alley upon carpenter's work, about twelve\nfoot in height, by which you may go in shade into the garden. As for the\nmaking of knots or figures, with divers colored earths, that they may\nlie under the windows of the house on that side which the garden stands,\nthey be but toys; you may see as good sights, many times, in tarts. The\ngarden is best to be square, encompassed on all the four sides with a\nstately arched hedge. The arches to be upon pillars of carpenter's work,\nof some ten foot high, and six foot broad; and the spaces between of the\nsame dimension with the breadth of the arch. Over the arches let there\nbe an entire hedge of some four foot high, framed also upon carpenter's\nwork; and upon the upper hedge, over every arch, a little turret, with\na belly, enough to receive a cage of birds: and over every space between\nthe arches some other little figure, with broad plates of round colored\nglass gilt, for the sun to play upon. But this hedge I intend to be\nraised upon a bank, not steep, but gently slope, of some six foot, set\nall with flowers. Also I understand, that this square of the garden,\nshould not be the whole breadth of the ground, but to leave on either\nside, ground enough for diversity of side alleys; unto which the two\ncovert alleys of the green, may deliver you. But there must be no alleys\nwith hedges, at either end of this great enclosure; not at the hither\nend, for letting your prospect upon this fair hedge from the green; nor\nat the further end, for letting your prospect from the hedge, through\nthe arches upon the heath.\n\nFor the ordering of the ground, within the great hedge, I leave it to\nvariety of device; advising nevertheless, that whatsoever form you cast\nit into, first, it be not too busy, or full of work. Wherein I, for my\npart, do not like images cut out in juniper or other garden stuff; they\nbe for children. Little low hedges, round, like welts, with some pretty\npyramids, I like well; and in some places, fair columns upon frames of\ncarpenter's work. I would also have the alleys, spacious and fair. You\nmay have closer alleys, upon the side grounds, but none in the main\ngarden. I wish also, in the very middle, a fair mount, with three\nascents, and alleys, enough for four to walk abreast; which I would\nhave to be perfect circles, without any bulwarks or embossments; and the\nwhole mount to be thirty foot high; and some fine banqueting-house, with\nsome chimneys neatly cast, and without too much glass.\n\nFor fountains, they are a great beauty and refreshment; but pools mar\nall, and make the garden unwholesome, and full of flies and frogs.\nFountains I intend to be of two natures: the one that sprinkleth or\nspouteth water; the other a fair receipt of water, of some thirty or\nforty foot square, but without fish, or slime, or mud. For the first,\nthe ornaments of images gilt, or of marble, which are in use, do well:\nbut the main matter is so to convey the water, as it never stay,\neither in the bowls or in the cistern; that the water be never by\nrest discolored, green or red or the like; or gather any mossiness or\nputrefaction. Besides that, it is to be cleansed every day by the hand.\nAlso some steps up to it, and some fine pavement about it, doth well. As\nfor the other kind of fountain, which we may call a bathing pool, it\nmay admit much curiosity and beauty; wherewith we will not trouble\nourselves: as, that the bottom be finely paved, and with images; the\nsides likewise; and withal embellished with colored glass, and such\nthings of lustre; encompassed also with fine rails of low statuas. But\nthe main point is the same which we mentioned in the former kind of\nfountain; which is, that the water be in perpetual motion, fed by a\nwater higher than the pool, and delivered into it by fair spouts, and\nthen discharged away under ground, by some equality of bores, that it\nstay little. And for fine devices, of arching water without spilling,\nand making it rise in several forms (of feathers, drinking glasses,\ncanopies, and the like), they be pretty things to look on, but nothing\nto health and sweetness.\n\nFor the heath, which was the third part of our plot, I wish it to be\nframed, as much as may be, to a natural wildness. Trees I would have\nnone in it, but some thickets made only of sweet-briar and honeysuckle,\nand some wild vine amongst; and the ground set with violets,\nstrawberries, and primroses. For these are sweet, and prosper in the\nshade. And these to be in the heath, here and there, not in any order. I\nlike also little heaps, in the nature of mole-hills (such as are in wild\nheaths), to be set, some with wild thyme; some with pinks; some with\ngermander, that gives a good flower to the eye; some with periwinkle;\nsome with violets; some with strawberries; some with cowslips; some with\ndaisies; some with red roses; some with lilium convallium; some with\nsweet-williams red; some with bear's-foot: and the like low flowers,\nbeing withal sweet and sightly. Part of which heaps, are to be with\nstandards of little bushes pricked upon their top, and part without. The\nstandards to be roses; juniper; holly; berberries (but here and there,\nbecause of the smell of their blossoms); red currants; gooseberries;\nrosemary; bays; sweetbriar; and such like. But these standards to be\nkept with cutting, that they grow not out of course.\n\nFor the side grounds, you are to fill them with variety of alleys,\nprivate, to give a full shade, some of them, wheresoever the sun be.\nYou are to frame some of them, likewise, for shelter, that when the\nwind blows sharp you may walk as in a gallery. And those alleys must\nbe likewise hedged at both ends, to keep out the wind; and these closer\nalleys must be ever finely gravelled, and no grass, because of going\nwet. In many of these alleys, likewise, you are to set fruit-trees\nof all sorts; as well upon the walls, as in ranges. And this would be\ngenerally observed, that the borders wherein you plant your fruit-trees,\nbe fair and large, and low, and not steep; and set with fine flowers,\nbut thin and sparingly, lest they deceive the trees. At the end of both\nthe side grounds, I would have a mount of some pretty height, leaving\nthe wall of the enclosure breast high, to look abroad into the fields.\n\nFor the main garden, I do not deny, but there should be some fair\nalleys ranged on both sides, with fruit-trees; and some pretty tufts of\nfruit-trees, and arbors with seats, set in some decent order; but these\nto be by no means set too thick; but to leave the main garden so as it\nbe not close, but the air open and free. For as for shade, I would have\nyou rest upon the alleys of the side grounds, there to walk, if you be\ndisposed, in the heat of the year or day; but to make account, that the\nmain garden is for the more temperate parts of the year; and in the heat\nof summer, for the morning and the evening, or overcast days.\n\nFor aviaries, I like them not, except they be of that largeness as they\nmay be turfed, and have living plants and bushes set in them; that the\nbirds may have more scope, and natural nesting, and that no foulness\nappear in the floor of the aviary. So I have made a platform of a\nprincely garden, partly by precept, partly by drawing, not a model, but\nsome general lines of it; and in this I have spared for no cost. But it\nis nothing for great princes, that for the most part taking advice with\nworkmen, with no less cost set their things together; and sometimes add\nstatuas and such things for state and magnificence, but nothing to the\ntrue pleasure of a garden.\n\n\n\n\nOf Negotiating\n\n\nIT IS generally better to deal by speech than by letter; and by the\nmediation of a third than by a man's self. Letters are good, when a man\nwould draw an answer by letter back again; or when it may serve for a\nman's justification afterwards to produce his own letter; or where it\nmay be danger to be interrupted, or heard by pieces. To deal in person\nis good, when a man's face breedeth regard, as commonly with inferiors;\nor in tender cases, where a man's eye, upon the countenance of him with\nwhom he speaketh, may give him a direction how far to go; and generally,\nwhere a man will reserve to himself liberty, either to disavow or to\nexpound. In choice of instruments, it is better to choose men of a\nplainer sort, that are like to do that, that is committed to them,\nand to report back again faithfully the success, than those that are\ncunning, to contrive, out of other men's business, somewhat to grace\nthemselves, and will help the matter in report for satisfaction's sake.\nUse also such persons as affect the business, wherein they are employed;\nfor that quickeneth much; and such, as are fit for the matter; as bold\nmen for expostulation, fair-spoken men for persuasion, crafty men for\ninquiry and observation, froward, and absurd men, for business that\ndoth not well bear out itself. Use also such as have been lucky, and\nprevailed before, in things wherein you have employed them; for that\nbreeds confidence, and they will strive to maintain their prescription.\nIt is better to sound a person, with whom one deals afar off, than to\nfall upon the point at first; except you mean to surprise him by some\nshort question. It is better dealing with men in appetite, than with\nthose that are where they would be. If a man deal with another upon\nconditions, the start or first performance is all; which a man cannot\nreasonably demand, except either the nature of the thing be such, which\nmust go before; or else a man can persuade the other party, that he\nshall still need him in some other thing; or else that he be counted\nthe honester man. All practice is to discover, or to work. Men discover\nthemselves in trust, in passion, at unawares, and of necessity, when\nthey would have somewhat done, and cannot find an apt pretext. If you\nwould work any man, you must either know his nature and fashions, and\nso lead him; or his ends, and so persuade him; or his weakness and\ndisadvantages, and so awe him; or those that have interest in him, and\nso govern him. In dealing with cunning persons, we must ever consider\ntheir ends, to interpret their speeches; and it is good to say little\nto them, and that which they least look for. In all negotiations of\ndifficulty, a man may not look to sow and reap at once; but must prepare\nbusiness, and so ripen it by degrees.\n\n\n\n\nOf Followers And Friends\n\n\nCOSTLY followers are not to be liked; lest while a man maketh his train\nlonger, he make his wings shorter. I reckon to be costly, not them alone\nwhich charge the purse, but which are wearisome, and importune in\nsuits. Ordinary followers ought to challenge no higher conditions,\nthan countenance, recommendation, and protection from wrongs. Factious\nfollowers are worse to be liked, which follow not upon affection to\nhim, with whom they range themselves, but upon discontentment conceived\nagainst some other; whereupon commonly ensueth that ill intelligence,\nthat we many times see between great personages. Likewise glorious\nfollowers, who make themselves as trumpets of the commendation of those\nthey follow, are full of inconvenience; for they taint business through\nwant of secrecy; and they export honor from a man, and make him a return\nin envy. There is a kind of followers likewise, which are dangerous,\nbeing indeed espials; which inquire the secrets of the house, and bear\ntales of them, to others. Yet such men, many times, are in great favor;\nfor they are officious, and commonly exchange tales. The following by\ncertain estates of men, answerable to that, which a great person himself\nprofesseth (as of soldiers, to him that hath been employed in the wars,\nand the like), hath ever been a thing civil, and well taken, even in\nmonarchies; so it be without too much pomp or popularity. But the most\nhonorable kind of following, is to be followed as one, that apprehendeth\nto advance virtue, and desert, in all sorts of persons. And yet, where\nthere is no eminent odds in sufficiency, it is better to take with the\nmore passable, than with the more able. And besides, to speak truth, in\nbase times, active men are of more use than virtuous. It is true that\nin government, it is good to use men of one rank equally: for to\ncountenance some extraordinarily, is to make them insolent, and the rest\ndiscontent; because they may claim a due. But contrariwise, in favor,\nto use men with much difference and election is good; for it maketh the\npersons preferred more thankful, and the rest more officious: because\nall is of favor. It is good discretion, not to make too much of any\nman at the first; because one cannot hold out that proportion. To be\ngoverned (as we call it) by one is not safe; for it shows softness, and\ngives a freedom, to scandal and disreputation; for those, that would\nnot censure or speak ill of a man immediately, will talk more boldly of\nthose that are so great with them, and thereby wound their honor. Yet\nto be distracted with many is worse; for it makes men to be of the last\nimpression, and full of change. To take advice of some few friends, is\never honorable; for lookers-on many times see more than gamesters; and\nthe vale best discovereth the hill. There is little friendship in the\nworld, and least of all between equals, which was wont to be magnified.\nThat that is, is between superior and inferior, whose fortunes may\ncomprehend the one the other.\n\n\n\n\nOf Suitors\n\n\nMANY ill matters and projects are undertaken; and private suits do\nputrefy the public good. Many good matters, are undertaken with bad\nminds; I mean not only corrupt minds, but crafty minds, that intend not\nperformance. Some embrace suits, which never mean to deal effectually\nin them; but if they see there may be life in the matter, by some other\nmean, they will be content to win a thank, or take a second reward, or\nat least to make use, in the meantime, of the suitor's hopes. Some take\nhold of suits, only for an occasion to cross some other; or to make an\ninformation, whereof they could not otherwise have apt pretext; without\ncare what become of the suit, when that turn is served; or, generally,\nto make other men's business a kind of entertainment, to bring in their\nown. Nay, some undertake suits, with a full purpose to let them fall; to\nthe end to gratify the adverse party, or competitor. Surely there is in\nsome sort a right in every suit; either a right of equity, if it be a\nsuit of controversy; or a right of desert, if it be a suit of petition.\nIf affection lead a man to favor the wrong side in justice, let him\nrather use his countenance to compound the matter, than to carry it. If\naffection lead a man to favor the less worthy in desert, let him do it,\nwithout depraving or disabling the better deserver. In suits which a\nman doth not well understand, it is good to refer them to some friend\nof trust and judgment, that may report, whether he may deal in them with\nhonor: but let him choose well his referendaries, for else he may be led\nby the nose. Suitors are so distasted with delays and abuses, that plain\ndealing, in denying to deal in suits at first, and reporting the success\nbarely, and in challenging no more thanks than one hath deserved, is\ngrown not only honorable, but also gracious. In suits of favor, the\nfirst coming ought to take little place: so far forth, consideration\nmay be had of his trust, that if intelligence of the matter could not\notherwise have been had, but by him, advantage be not taken of the note,\nbut the party left to his other means; and in some sort recompensed, for\nhis discovery. To be ignorant of the value of a suit, is simplicity;\nas well as to be ignorant of the right thereof, is want of conscience.\nSecrecy in suits, is a great mean of obtaining; for voicing them to be\nin forwardness, may discourage some kind of suitors, but doth quicken\nand awake others. But timing of the suit is the principal. Timing, I\nsay, not only in respect of the person that should grant it, but in\nrespect of those, which are like to cross it. Let a man, in the choice\nof his mean, rather choose the fittest mean, than the greatest mean; and\nrather them that deal in certain things, than those that are general.\nThe reparation of a denial, is sometimes equal to the first grant; if\na man show himself neither dejected nor discontented. Iniquum petas ut\naequum feras is a good rule, where a man hath strength of favor: but\notherwise, a man were better rise in his suit; for he, that would have\nventured at first to have lost the suitor, will not in the conclusion\nlose both the suitor, and his own former favor. Nothing is thought so\neasy a request to a great person, as his letter; and yet, if it be not\nin a good cause, it is so much out of his reputation. There are no worse\ninstruments, than these general contrivers of suits; for they are but a\nkind of poison, and infection, to public proceedings.\n\n\n\n\nOf Studies\n\n\nSTUDIES serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief\nuse for delight, is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in\ndiscourse; and for ability, is in the judgment, and disposition of\nbusiness. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars,\none by one; but the general counsels, and the plots and marshalling of\naffairs, come best, from those that are learned. To spend too much time\nin studies is sloth; to use them too much for ornament, is affectation;\nto make judgment wholly by their rules, is the humor of a scholar. They\nperfect nature, and are perfected by experience: for natural abilities\nare like natural plants, that need proyning, by study; and studies\nthemselves, do give forth directions too much at large, except they be\nbounded in by experience. Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire\nthem, and wise men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that\nis a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not\nto contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to\nfind talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be\ntasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested;\nthat is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but\nnot curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and\nattention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of\nthem by others; but that would be only in the less important arguments,\nand the meaner sort of books, else distilled books are like common\ndistilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man; conference\na ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write\nlittle, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had\nneed have a present wit: and if he read little, he had need have much\ncunning, to seem to know, that he doth not. Histories make men wise;\npoets witty; the mathematics subtile; natural philosophy deep; moral\ngrave; logic and rhetoric able to contend. Abeunt studia in mores. Nay,\nthere is no stond or impediment in the wit, but may be wrought out\nby fit studies; like as diseases of the body, may have appropriate\nexercises. Bowling is good for the stone and reins; shooting for the\nlungs and breast; gentle walking for the stomach; riding for the\nhead; and the like. So if a man's wit be wandering, let him study the\nmathematics; for in demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so\nlittle, he must begin again. If his wit be not apt to distinguish or\nfind differences, let him study the Schoolmen; for they are cymini\nsectores. If he be not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one\nthing to prove and illustrate another, let him study the lawyers'\ncases. So every defect of the mind, may have a special receipt.\n\n\n\n\nOf Faction\n\n\nMANY have an opinion not wise, that for a prince to govern his estate,\nor for a great person to govern his proceedings, according to\nthe respect of factions, is a principal part of policy; whereas\ncontrariwise, the chiefest wisdom, is either in ordering those things\nwhich are general, and wherein men of several factions do nevertheless\nagree; or in dealing with correspondence to particular persons, one\nby one. But I say not that the considerations of factions, is to be\nneglected. Mean men, in their rising, must adhere; but great men,\nthat have strength in themselves, were better to maintain themselves\nindifferent, and neutral. Yet even in beginners, to adhere so\nmoderately, as he be a man of the one faction, which is most passable\nwith the other, commonly giveth best way. The lower and weaker faction,\nis the firmer in conjunction; and it is often seen, that a few that are\nstiff, do tire out a greater number, that are more moderate. When one of\nthe factions is extinguished, the remaining subdivideth; as the faction\nbetween Lucullus, and the rest of the nobles of the senate (which they\ncalled Optimates) held out awhile, against the faction of Pompey and\nCaesar; but when the senate's authority was pulled down, Caesar and\nPompey soon after brake. The faction or party of Antonius and Octavianus\nCaesar, against Brutus and Cassius, held out likewise for a time; but\nwhen Brutus and Cassius were overthrown, then soon after, Antonius and\nOctavianus brake and subdivided. These examples are of wars, but the\nsame holdeth in private factions. And therefore, those that are\nseconds in factions, do many times, when the faction subdivideth, prove\nprincipals; but many times also, they prove ciphers and cashiered;\nfor many a man's strength is in opposition; and when that faileth, he\ngroweth out of use. It is commonly seen, that men, once placed, take in\nwith the contrary faction, to that by which they enter: thinking belike,\nthat they have the first sure, and now are ready for a new purchase. The\ntraitor in faction, lightly goeth away with it; for when matters have\nstuck long in balancing, the winning of some one man casteth them,\nand he getteth all the thanks. The even carriage between two factions,\nproceedeth not always of moderation, but of a trueness to a man's self,\nwith end to make use of both. Certainly in Italy, they hold it a little\nsuspect in popes, when they have often in their mouth Padre commune: and\ntake it to be a sign of one, that meaneth to refer all to the greatness\nof his own house. Kings had need beware, how they side themselves, and\nmake themselves as of a faction or party; for leagues within the\nstate, are ever pernicious to monarchies: for they raise an obligation,\nparamount to obligation of sovereignty, and make the king tanquam unus\nex nobis; as was to be seen in the League of France. When factions are\ncarried too high and too violently, it is a sign of weakness in princes;\nand much to the prejudice, both of their authority and business. The\nmotions of factions under kings ought to be, like the motions (as the\nastronomers speak) of the inferior orbs, which may have their proper\nmotions, but yet still are quietly carried, by the higher motion of\nprimum mobile.\n\n\n\n\nOf Ceremonies, And Respects\n\n\nHE THAT is only real, had need have exceeding great parts of virtue; as\nthe stone had need to be rich, that is set without foil. But if a man\nmark it well, it is, in praise and commendation of men, as it is in\ngettings and gains: for the proverb is true, That light gains make heavy\npurses; for light gains come thick, whereas great, come but now and\nthen. So it is true, that small matters win great commendation, because\nthey are continually in use and in note: whereas the occasion of any\ngreat virtue, cometh but on festivals. Therefore it doth much add to a\nman's reputation, and is (as Queen Isabella said) like perpetual letters\ncommendatory, to have good forms. To attain them, it almost sufficeth\nnot to despise them; for so shall a man observe them in others; and let\nhim trust himself with the rest. For if he labor too much to express\nthem, he shall lose their grace; which is to be natural and unaffected.\nSome men's behavior is like a verse, wherein every syllable is measured;\nhow can a man comprehend great matters, that breaketh his mind too much,\nto small observations? Not to use ceremonies at all, is to teach others\nnot to use them again; and so diminisheth respect to himself; especially\nthey be not to be omitted, to strangers and formal natures; but the\ndwelling upon them, and exalting them above the moon, is not only\ntedious, but doth diminish the faith and credit of him that speaks. And\ncertainly, there is a kind of conveying, of effectual and imprinting\npassages amongst compliments, which is of singular use, if a man can hit\nupon it. Amongst a man's peers, a man shall be sure of familiarity; and\ntherefore it is good, a little to keep state. Amongst a man's inferiors\none shall be sure of reverence; and therefore it is good, a little to\nbe familiar. He that is too much in anything, so that he giveth another\noccasion of satiety, maketh himself cheap. To apply one's self to\nothers, is good; so it be with demonstration, that a man doth it upon\nregard, and not upon facility. It is a good precept generally, in\nseconding another, yet to add somewhat of one's own: as if you will\ngrant his opinion, let it be with some distinction; if you will follow\nhis motion, let it be with condition; if you allow his counsel, let it\nbe with alleging further reason. Men had need beware, how they be too\nperfect in compliments; for be they never so sufficient otherwise, their\nenviers will be sure to give them that attribute, to the disadvantage\nof their greater virtues. It is loss also in business, to be too full\nof respects, or to be curious, in observing times and opportunities.\nSolomon saith, He that considereth the wind, shall not sow, and he\nthat looketh to the clouds, shall not reap. A wise man will make more\nopportunities, than he finds. Men's behavior should be, like their\napparel, not too strait or point device, but free for exercise or\nmotion.\n\n\n\n\nOf Praise\n\n\nPRAISE is the reflection of virtue; but it is as the glass or body,\nwhich giveth the reflection. If it be from the common people, it is\ncommonly false and naught; and rather followeth vain persons, than\nvirtuous. For the common people understand not many excellent virtues.\nThe lowest virtues draw praise from them; the middle virtues work in\nthem astonishment or admiration; but of the highest virtues, they\nhave no sense of perceiving at all. But shows, and species virtutibus\nsimiles, serve best with them. Certainly fame is like a river, that\nbeareth up things light and swoln, and drowns things weighty and solid.\nBut if persons of quality and judgment concur, then it is (as the\nScripture saith) nomen bonum instar unguenti fragrantis. It fireth all\nround about, and will not easily away. For the odors of ointments are\nmore durable, than those of flowers. There be so many false points of\npraise, that a man may justly hold it a suspect. Some praises proceed\nmerely of flattery; and if he be an ordinary flatterer, he will have\ncertain common attributes, which may serve every man; if he be a cunning\nflatterer, he will follow the archflatterer, which is a man's self;\nand wherein a man thinketh best of himself, therein the flatterer will\nuphold him most: but if he be an impudent flatterer, look wherein a man\nis conscious to himself, that he is most defective, and is most out of\ncountenance in himself, that will the flatterer entitle him to perforce,\nspreta conscientia. Some praises come of good wishes and respects,\nwhich is a form due, in civility, to kings and great persons, laudando\npraecipere, when by telling men what they are, they represent to them,\nwhat they should be. Some men are praised maliciously, to their\nhurt, thereby to stir envy and jealousy towards them: pessimum genus\ninimicorum laudantium; insomuch as it was a proverb, amongst the\nGrecians, that he that was praised to his hurt, should have a push rise\nupon his nose; as we say, that a blister will rise upon one's tongue,\nthat tells a lie. Certainly moderate praise, used with opportunity, and\nnot vulgar, is that which doth the good. Solomon saith, He that praiseth\nhis friend aloud, rising early, it shall be to him no better than\na curse. Too much magnifying of man or matter, doth irritate\ncontradiction, and procure envy and scorn. To praise a man's self,\ncannot be decent, except it be in rare cases; but to praise a man's\noffice or profession, he may do it with good grace, and with a kind of\nmagnanimity. The cardinals of Rome, which are theologues, and friars,\nand Schoolmen, have a phrase of notable contempt and scorn towards\ncivil business: for they call all temporal business of wars,\nembassages, judicature, and other employments, sbirrerie, which is\nunder-sheriffries; as if they were but matters, for under-sheriffs and\ncatchpoles: though many times those under-sheriffries do more good, than\ntheir high speculations. St. Paul, when he boasts of himself, he doth\noft interlace, I speak like a fool; but speaking of his calling, he\nsaith, magnificabo apostolatum meum.\n\n\n\n\nOf Vain-glory\n\n\nIT WAS prettily devised of AEsop, The fly sat upon the axle-tree of the\nchariot wheel, and said, What a dust do I raise! So are there some vain\npersons, that whatsoever goeth alone, or moveth upon greater means, if\nthey have never so little hand in it, they think it is they that carry\nit. They that are glorious, must needs be factious; for all bravery\nstands upon comparisons. They must needs be violent, to make good their\nown vaunts. Neither can they be secret, and therefore not effectual; but\naccording to the French proverb, Beaucoup de bruit, peu de fruit; Much\nbruit little fruit. Yet certainly, there is use of this quality in civil\naffairs. Where there is an opinion and fame to be created, either of\nvirtue or greatness, these men are good trumpeters. Again, as Titus\nLivius noteth, in the case of Antiochus and the AEtolians, There are\nsometimes great effects, of cross lies; as if a man, that negotiates\nbetween two princes, to draw them to join in a war against the third,\ndoth extol the forces of either of them, above measure, the one to the\nother: and sometimes he that deals between man and man, raiseth his own\ncredit with both, by pretending greater interest than he hath in either.\nAnd in these and the like kinds, it often falls out, that somewhat\nis produced of nothing; for lies are sufficient to breed opinion,\nand opinion brings on substance. In militar commanders and soldiers,\nvain-glory is an essential point; for as iron sharpens iron, so by\nglory, one courage sharpeneth another. In cases of great enterprise upon\ncharge and adventure, a composition of glorious natures, doth put life\ninto business; and those that are of solid and sober natures, have more\nof the ballast, than of the sail. In fame of learning, the flight will\nbe slow without some feathers of ostentation. Qui de contemnenda gloria\nlibros scribunt, nomen, suum inscribunt. Socrates, Aristotle, Galen,\nwere men full of ostentation. Certainly vain-glory helpeth to perpetuate\na man's memory; and virtue was never so beholding to human nature, as\nit received his due at the second hand. Neither had the fame of Cicero,\nSeneca, Plinius Secundus, borne her age so well, if it had not been\njoined with some vanity in themselves; like unto varnish, that makes\nceilings not only shine but last. But all this while, when I speak of\nvain-glory, I mean not of that property, that Tacitus doth attribute\nto Mucianus; Omnium quae dixerat feceratque arte quadam ostentator: for\nthat proceeds not of vanity, but of natural magnanimity and discretion;\nand in some persons, is not only comely, but gracious. For excusations,\ncessions, modesty itself well governed, are but arts of ostentation.\nAnd amongst those arts, there is none better than that which Plinius\nSecundus speaketh of, which is to be liberal of praise and commendation\nto others, in that, wherein a man's self hath any perfection. For saith\nPliny, very wittily, In commending another, you do yourself right; for\nhe that you commend, is either superior to you in that you commend, or\ninferior. If he be inferior, if he be to be commended, you much more;\nif he be superior, if he be not to be commended, you much less. Glorious\nmen are the scorn of wise men, the admiration of fools, the idols of\nparasites, and the slaves of their own vaunts.\n\n\n\n\nOf Honor And Reputation\n\n\nTHE winning of honor, is but the revealing of a man's virtue and worth,\nwithout disadvantage. For some in their actions, do woo and effect honor\nand reputation, which sort of men, are commonly much talked of, but\ninwardly little admired. And some, contrariwise, darken their virtue in\nthe show of it; so as they be undervalued in opinion. If a man perform\nthat, which hath not been attempted before; or attempted and given\nover; or hath been achieved, but not with so good circumstance; he shall\npurchase more honor, than by effecting a matter of greater difficulty or\nvirtue, wherein he is but a follower. If a man so temper his actions,\nas in some one of them he doth content every faction, or combination\nof people, the music will be the fuller. A man is an ill husband of his\nhonor, that entereth into any action, the failing wherein may disgrace\nhim, more than the carrying of it through, can honor him. Honor that\nis gained and broken upon another, hath the quickest reflection, like\ndiamonds cut with facets. And therefore, let a man contend to excel any\ncompetitors of his in honor, in outshooting them, if he can, in their\nown bow. Discreet followers and servants, help much to reputation. Omnis\nfama a domesticis emanat. Envy, which is the canker of honor, is best\nextinguished by declaring a man's self in his ends, rather to seek\nmerit than fame; and by attributing a man's successes, rather to divine\nProvidence and felicity, than to his own virtue or policy.\n\nThe true marshalling of the degrees of sovereign honor, are these:\nIn the first place are conditores imperiorum, founders of states and\ncommonwealths; such as were Romulus, Cyrus, Caesar, Ottoman, Ismael.\nIn the second place are legislatores, lawgivers; which are also called\nsecond founders, or perpetui principes, because they govern by their\nordinances after they are gone; such were Lycurgus, Solon, Justinian,\nEadgar, Alphonsus of Castile, the Wise, that made the Siete Partidas.\nIn the third place are liberatores, or salvatores, such as compound the\nlong miseries of civil wars, or deliver their countries from servitude\nof strangers or tyrants; as Augustus Caesar, Vespasianus, Aurelianus,\nTheodoricus, King Henry the Seventh of England, King Henry the Fourth of\nFrance. In the fourth place are propagatores or propugnatores imperii;\nsuch as in honorable wars enlarge their territories, or make noble\ndefence against invaders. And in the last place are patres patriae;\nwhich reign justly, and make the times good wherein they live. Both\nwhich last kinds need no examples, they are in such number. Degrees\nof honor, in subjects, are, first participes curarum, those upon whom,\nprinces do discharge the greatest weight of their affairs; their right\nhands, as we call them. The next are duces belli, great leaders in war;\nsuch as are princes' lieutenants, and do them notable services in\nthe wars. The third are gratiosi, favorites; such as exceed not this\nscantling, to be solace to the sovereign, and harmless to the people.\nAnd the fourth, negotiis pares; such as have great places under princes,\nand execute their places, with sufficiency. There is an honor, likewise,\nwhich may be ranked amongst the greatest, which happeneth rarely; that\nis, of such as sacrifice themselves to death or danger for the good of\ntheir country; as was M. Regulus, and the two Decii.\n\n\n\n\nOf Judicature\n\n\nJUDGES ought to remember, that their office is jus dicere, and not jus\ndare; to interpret law, and not to make law, or give law. Else will\nit be like the authority, claimed by the Church of Rome, which under\npretext of exposition of Scripture, doth not stick to add and alter; and\nto pronounce that which they do not find; and by show of antiquity, to\nintroduce novelty. Judges ought to be more learned, than witty, more\nreverend, than plausible, and more advised, than confident. Above all\nthings, integrity is their portion and proper virtue. Cursed (saith the\nlaw) is he that removeth the landmark. The mislayer of a mere-stone is\nto blame. But it is the unjust judge, that is the capital remover of\nlandmarks, when he defineth amiss, of lands and property. One foul\nsentence doth more hurt, than many foul examples. For these do but\ncorrupt the stream, the other corrupteth the fountain. So with Solomon,\nFons turbatus, et vena corrupta, est justus cadens in causa sua coram\nadversario. The office of judges may have reference unto the parties\nthat use, unto the advocates that plead, unto the clerks and ministers\nof justice underneath them, and to the sovereign or state above them.\n\nFirst, for the causes or parties that sue. There be (saith the\nScripture) that turn judgment, into wormwood; and surely there be also,\nthat turn it into vinegar; for injustice maketh it bitter, and delays\nmake it sour. The principal duty of a judge, is to suppress force and\nfraud; whereof force is the more pernicious, when it is open, and fraud,\nwhen it is close and disguised. Add thereto contentious suits, which\nought to be spewed out, as the surfeit of courts. A judge ought to\nprepare his way to a just sentence, as God useth to prepare his way, by\nraising valleys and taking down hills: so when there appeareth on\neither side an high hand, violent prosecution, cunning advantages taken,\ncombination, power, great counsel, then is the virtue of a judge seen,\nto make inequality equal; that he may plant his judgment as upon an even\nground. Qui fortiter emungit, elicit sanguinem; and where the wine-press\nis hard wrought, it yields a harsh wine, that tastes of the grape-stone.\nJudges must beware of hard constructions, and strained inferences; for\nthere is no worse torture, than the torture of laws. Specially in case\nof laws penal, they ought to have care, that that which was meant for\nterror, be not turned into rigor; and that they bring not upon the\npeople, that shower whereof the Scripture speaketh, Pluet super eos\nlaqueos; for penal laws pressed, are a shower of snares upon the people.\nTherefore let penal laws, if they have been sleepers of long, or if they\nbe grown unfit for the present time, be by wise judges confined in the\nexecution: Judicis officium est, ut res, ita tempora rerum, etc. In\ncauses of life and death, judges ought (as far as the law permitteth)\nin justice to remember mercy; and to cast a severe eye upon the example,\nbut a merciful eye upon the person.\n\nSecondly, for the advocates and counsel that plead. Patience and gravity\nof hearing, is an essential part of justice; and an overspeaking judge\nis no well-tuned cymbal. It is no grace to a judge, first to find that,\nwhich he might have heard in due time from the bar; or to show quickness\nof conceit, in cutting off evidence or counsel too short; or to prevent\ninformation by questions, though pertinent. The parts of a judge\nin hearing, are four: to direct the evidence; to moderate length,\nrepetition, or impertinency of speech; to recapitulate, select, and\ncollate the material points, of that which hath been said; and to\ngive the rule or sentence. Whatsoever is above these is too much; and\nproceedeth either of glory, and willingness to speak, or of impatience\nto hear, or of shortness of memory, or of want of a staid and equal\nattention. It is a strange thing to see, that the boldness of advocates\nshould prevail with judges; whereas they should imitate God, in whose\nseat they sit; who represseth the presumptuous, and giveth grace to the\nmodest. But it is more strange, that judges should have noted favorites;\nwhich cannot but cause multiplication of fees, and suspicion of by-ways.\nThere is due from the judge to the advocate, some commendation and\ngracing, where causes are well handled and fair pleaded; especially\ntowards the side which obtaineth not; for that upholds in the client,\nthe reputation of his counsel, and beats down in him the conceit of\nhis cause. There is likewise due to the public, a civil reprehension of\nadvocates, where there appeareth cunning counsel, gross neglect, slight\ninformation, indiscreet pressing, or an overbold defence. And let not\nthe counsel at the bar, chop with the judge, nor wind himself into the\nhandling of the cause anew, after the judge hath declared his sentence;\nbut, on the other side, let not the judge meet the cause half way, nor\ngive occasion to the party, to say his counsel or proofs were not heard.\n\nThirdly, for that that concerns clerks and ministers. The place of\njustice is an hallowed place; and therefore not only the bench, but the\nfoot-place; and precincts and purprise thereof, ought to be preserved\nwithout scandal and corruption. For certainly grapes (as the Scripture\nsaith) will not be gathered of thorns or thistles; neither can justice\nyield her fruit with sweetness, amongst the briars and brambles of\ncatching and polling clerks, and ministers. The attendance of courts, is\nsubject to four bad instruments. First, certain persons that are sowers\nof suits; which make the court swell, and the country pine. The second\nsort is of those, that engage courts in quarrels of jurisdiction, and\nare not truly amici curiae, but parasiti curiae, in puffing a court up\nbeyond her bounds, for their own scraps and advantage. The third sort,\nis of those that may be accounted the left hands of courts; persons that\nare full of nimble and sinister tricks and shifts, whereby they pervert\nthe plain and direct courses of courts, and bring justice into oblique\nlines and labyrinths. And the fourth, is the poller and exacter of fees;\nwhich justifies the common resemblance of the courts of justice, to the\nbush whereunto, while the sheep flies for defence in weather, he is sure\nto lose part of his fleece. On the other side, an ancient clerk, skilful\nin precedents, wary in proceeding, and understanding in the business of\nthe court, is an excellent finger of a court; and doth many times point\nthe way to the judge himself.\n\nFourthly, for that which may concern the sovereign and estate. Judges\nought above all to remember the conclusion of the Roman Twelve Tables;\nSalus populi suprema lex; and to know that laws, except they be in order\nto that end, are but things captious, and oracles not well inspired.\nTherefore it is an happy thing in a state, when kings and states do\noften consult with judges; and again, when judges do often consult with\nthe king and state: the one, when there is matter of law, intervenient\nin business of state; the other, when there is some consideration of\nstate, intervenient in matter of law. For many times the things deduced\nto judgment may be meum and tuum, when the reason and consequence\nthereof may trench to point of estate: I call matter of estate, not\nonly the parts of sovereignty, but whatsoever introduceth any great\nalteration, or dangerous precedent; or concerneth manifestly any great\nportion of people. And let no man weakly conceive, that just laws\nand true policy have any antipathy; for they are like the spirits and\nsinews, that one moves with the other. Let judges also remember, that\nSolomon's throne was supported by lions on both sides: let them be\nlions, but yet lions under the throne; being circumspect that they do\nnot check or oppose any points of sovereignty. Let not judges also be\nignorant of their own right, as to think there is not left to them, as a\nprincipal part of their office, a wise use and application of laws. For\nthey may remember, what the apostle saith of a greater law than theirs;\nNos scimus quia lex bona est, modo quis ea utatur legitime.\n\n\n\n\nOf Anger\n\n\nTO SEEK to extinguish anger utterly, is but a bravery of the Stoics. We\nhave better oracles: Be angry, but sin not. Let not the sun go down\nupon your anger. Anger must be limited and confined, both in race and\nin time. We will first speak how the natural inclination and habit to be\nangry, may be attempted and calmed. Secondly, how the particular motions\nof anger may be repressed, or at least refrained from doing mischief.\nThirdly, how to raise anger, or appease anger in another.\n\nFor the first; there is no other way but to meditate, and ruminate well\nupon the effects of anger, how it troubles man's life. And the best time\nto do this, is to look back upon anger, when the fit is thoroughly over.\nSeneca saith well, That anger is like ruin, which breaks itself upon\nthat it falls. The Scripture exhorteth us to possess our souls in\npatience. Whosoever is out of patience, is out of possession of his\nsoul. Men must not turn bees;\n\n\n... animasque in vulnere ponunt.\n\n\nAnger is certainly a kind of baseness; as it appears well in the\nweakness of those subjects in whom it reigns; children, women, old\nfolks, sick folks. Only men must beware, that they carry their anger\nrather with scorn, than with fear; so that they may seem rather to be\nabove the injury, than below it; which is a thing easily done, if a man\nwill give law to himself in it.\n\nFor the second point; the causes and motives of anger, are chiefly\nthree. First, to be too sensible of hurt; for no man is angry, that\nfeels not himself hurt; and therefore tender and delicate persons must\nneeds be oft angry; they have so many things to trouble them, which more\nrobust natures have little sense of. The next is, the apprehension and\nconstruction of the injury offered, to be, in the circumstances thereof,\nfull of contempt: for contempt is that, which putteth an edge upon\nanger, as much or more than the hurt itself. And therefore, when men are\ningenious in picking out circumstances of contempt, they do kindle their\nanger much. Lastly, opinion of the touch of a man's reputation, doth\nmultiply and sharpen anger. Wherein the remedy is, that a man should\nhave, as Consalvo was wont to say, telam honoris crassiorem. But in all\nrefrainings of anger, it is the best remedy to win time; and to make a\nman's self believe, that the opportunity of his revenge is not yet\ncome, but that he foresees a time for it; and so to still himself in the\nmeantime, and reserve it.\n\nTo contain anger from mischief, though it take hold of a man, there be\ntwo things, whereof you must have special caution. The one, of extreme\nbitterness of words, especially if they be aculeate and proper; for\ncummunia maledicta are nothing so much; and again, that in anger a man\nreveal no secrets; for that, makes him not fit for society. The other,\nthat you do not peremptorily break off, in any business, in a fit of\nanger; but howsoever you show bitterness, do not act anything, that is\nnot revocable.\n\nFor raising and appeasing anger in another; it is done chiefly by\nchoosing of times, when men are frowardest and worst disposed, to\nincense them. Again, by gathering (as was touched before) all that you\ncan find out, to aggravate the contempt. And the two remedies are by the\ncontraries. The former to take good times, when first to relate to a man\nan angry business; for the first impression is much; and the other is,\nto sever, as much as may be, the construction of the injury from the\npoint of contempt; imputing it to misunderstanding, fear, passion, or\nwhat you will.\n\n\n\n\nOf Vicissitude Of Things\n\n\nSOLOMON saith, There is no new thing upon the earth. So that as Plato\nhad an imagination, That all knowledge was but remembrance; so Solomon\ngiveth his sentence, That all novelty is but oblivion. Whereby you may\nsee, that the river of Lethe runneth as well above ground as below.\nThere is an abstruse astrologer that saith, If it were not for two\nthings that are constant (the one is, that the fixed stars ever stand a\nlike distance one from another, and never come nearer together, nor go\nfurther asunder; the other, that the diurnal motion perpetually keepeth\ntime), no individual would last one moment. Certain it is, that\nthe matter is in a perpetual flux, and never at a stay. The great\nwinding-sheets, that bury all things in oblivion, are two; deluges\nand earthquakes. As for conflagrations and great droughts, they do not\nmerely dispeople and destroy. Phaeton's car went but a day. And the\nthree years' drought in the time of Elias, was but particular, and left\npeople alive. As for the great burnings by lightnings, which are\noften in the West Indies, they are but narrow. But in the other two\ndestructions, by deluge and earthquake, it is further to be noted, that\nthe remnant of people which hap to be reserved, are commonly ignorant\nand mountainous people, that can give no account of the time past; so\nthat the oblivion is all one, as if none had been left. If you consider\nwell of the people of the West Indies, it is very probable that they are\na newer or a younger people, than the people of the Old World. And it is\nmuch more likely, that the destruction that hath heretofore been there,\nwas not by earthquakes (as the Egyptian priest told Solon concerning the\nisland of Atlantis, that it was swallowed by an earthquake), but rather\nthat it was desolated by a particular deluge. For earthquakes are seldom\nin those parts. But on the other side, they have such pouring rivers, as\nthe rivers of Asia and Africk and Europe, are but brooks to them.\nTheir Andes, likewise, or mountains, are far higher than those with us;\nwhereby it seems, that the remnants of generation of men, were in such\na particular deluge saved. As for the observation that Machiavel hath,\nthat the jealousy of sects, doth much extinguish the memory of things;\ntraducing Gregory the Great, that he did what in him lay, to extinguish\nall heathen antiquities; I do not find that those zeals do any great\neffects, nor last long; as it appeared in the succession of Sabinian,\nwho did revive the former antiquities.\n\nThe vicissitude of mutations in the superior globe, are no fit matter\nfor this present argument. It may be, Plato's great year, if the world\nshould last so long, would have some effect; not in renewing the state\nof like individuals (for that is the fume of those, that conceive the\ncelestial bodies have more accurate influences upon these things below,\nthan indeed they have), but in gross. Comets, out of question, have\nlikewise power and effect, over the gross and mass of things; but they\nare rather gazed upon, and waited upon in their journey, than wisely\nobserved in their effects; specially in, their respective effects; that\nis, what kind of comet, for magnitude, color, version of the beams,\nplacing in the reign of heaven, or lasting, produceth what kind of\neffects.\n\nThere is a toy which I have heard, and I would not have it given over,\nbut waited upon a little. They say it is observed in the Low Countries\n(I know not in what part) that every five and thirty years, the same\nkind and suit of years and weathers come about again; as great frosts,\ngreat wet, great droughts, warm winters, summers with little heat, and\nthe like; and they call it the Prime. It is a thing I do the rather\nmention, because, computing backwards, I have found some concurrence.\n\nBut to leave these points of nature, and to come to men. The greatest\nvicissitude of things amongst men, is the vicissitude of sects and\nreligions. For those orbs rule in men's minds most. The true religion\nis built upon the rock; the rest are tossed, upon the waves of time. To\nspeak, therefore, of the causes of new sects; and to give some counsel\nconcerning them, as far as the weakness of human judgment can give stay,\nto so great revolutions. When the religion formerly received, is rent\nby discords; and when the holiness of the professors of religion, is\ndecayed and full of scandal; and withal the times be stupid, ignorant,\nand barbarous; you may doubt the springing up of a new sect; if then\nalso, there should arise any extravagant and strange spirit, to make\nhimself author thereof. All which points held, when Mahomet published\nhis law. If a new sect have not two properties, fear it not; for it will\nnot spread. The one is the supplanting, or the opposing, of authority\nestablished; for nothing is more popular than that. The other is\nthe giving license to pleasures, and a voluptuous life. For as for\nspeculative heresies (such as were in ancient times the Arians, and now\nthe Arminians), though they work mightily upon men's wits, yet they do\nnot produce any great alterations in states; except it be by the help of\ncivil occasions. There be three manner of plantations of new sects. By\nthe power of signs and miracles; by the eloquence, and wisdom, of speech\nand persuasion; and by the sword. For martyrdoms, I reckon them amongst\nmiracles; because they seem to exceed the strength of human nature: and\nI may do the like, of superlative and admirable holiness of life. Surely\nthere is no better way, to stop the rising of new sects and schisms,\nthan to reform abuses; to compound the smaller differences; to proceed\nmildly, and not with sanguinary persecutions; and rather to take off the\nprincipal authors by winning and advancing them, than to enrage them by\nviolence and bitterness.\n\nThe changes and vicissitude in wars are many; but chiefly in three\nthings; in the seats or stages of the war; in the weapons; and in the\nmanner of the conduct. Wars, in ancient time, seemed more to move from\neast to west; for the Persians, Assyrians, Arabians, Tartars (which\nwere the invaders) were all eastern people. It is true, the Gauls\nwere western; but we read but of two incursions of theirs: the one\nto Gallo-Grecia, the other to Rome. But east and west have no certain\npoints of heaven; and no more have the wars, either from the east or\nwest, any certainty of observation. But north and south are fixed; and\nit hath seldom or never been seen that the far southern people have\ninvaded the northern, but contrariwise. Whereby it is manifest that the\nnorthern tract of the world, is in nature the more martial region: be it\nin respect of the stars of that hemisphere; or of the great continents\nthat are upon the north, whereas the south part, for aught that is\nknown, is almost all sea; or (which is most apparent) of the cold of\nthe northern parts, which is that which, without aid of discipline, doth\nmake the bodies hardest, and the courages warmest.\n\nUpon the breaking and shivering of a great state and empire, you may be\nsure to have wars. For great empires, while they stand, do enervate and\ndestroy the forces of the natives which they have subdued, resting upon\ntheir own protecting forces; and then when they fail also, all goes\nto ruin, and they become a prey. So was it in the decay of the Roman\nempire; and likewise in the empire of Almaigne, after Charles the Great,\nevery bird taking a feather; and were not unlike to befall to Spain,\nif it should break. The great accessions and unions of kingdoms, do\nlikewise stir up wars; for when a state grows to an over-power, it is\nlike a great flood, that will be sure to overflow. As it hath been seen\nin the states of Rome, Turkey, Spain, and others. Look when the world\nhath fewest barbarous peoples, but such as commonly will not marry or\ngenerate, except they know means to live (as it is almost everywhere at\nthis day, except Tartary), there is no danger of inundations of people;\nbut when there be great shoals of people, which go on to populate,\nwithout foreseeing means of life and sustentation, it is of necessity\nthat once in an age or two, they discharge a portion of their people\nupon other nations; which the ancient northern people were wont to do\nby lot; casting lots what part should stay at home, and what should seek\ntheir fortunes. When a warlike state grows soft and effeminate, they may\nbe sure of a war. For commonly such states are grown rich in the time\nof their degenerating; and so the prey inviteth, and their decay in\nvalor, encourageth a war.\n\nAs for the weapons, it hardly falleth under rule and observation: yet\nwe see even they, have returns and vicissitudes. For certain it is, that\nordnance was known in the city of the Oxidrakes in India; and was that,\nwhich the Macedonians called thunder and lightning, and magic. And it\nis well known that the use of ordnance, hath been in China above two\nthousand years. The conditions of weapons, and their improvement, are;\nFirst, the fetching afar off; for that outruns the danger; as it is\nseen in ordnance and muskets. Secondly, the strength of the percussion;\nwherein likewise ordnance do exceed all arietations and ancient\ninventions. The third is, the commodious use of them; as that they may\nserve in all weathers; that the carriage may be light and manageable;\nand the like.\n\nFor the conduct of the war: at the first, men rested extremely upon\nnumber: they did put the wars likewise upon main force and valor;\npointing days for pitched fields, and so trying it out upon an even\nmatch and they were more ignorant in ranging and arraying their battles.\nAfter, they grew to rest upon number rather competent, than vast; they\ngrew to advantages of place, cunning diversions, and the like: and they\ngrew more skilful in the ordering of their battles.\n\nIn the youth of a state, arms do flourish; in the middle age of a state,\nlearning; and then both of them together for a time; in the declining\nage of a state, mechanical arts and merchandize. Learning hath his\ninfancy, when it is but beginning and almost childish; then his youth,\nwhen it is luxuriant and juvenile; then his strength of years, when it\nis solid and reduced; and lastly, his old age, when it waxeth dry and\nexhaust. But it is not good to look too long upon these turning wheels\nof vicissitude, lest we become giddy. As for the philology of them, that\nis but a circle of tales, and therefore not fit for this writing.\n\n\n\n\nOf Fame\n\n\nTHE poets make Fame a monster. They describe her in part finely and\nelegantly, and in part gravely and sententiously. They say, look how\nmany feathers she hath, so many eyes she hath underneath; so many\ntongues; so many voices; she pricks up so many ears.\n\nThis is a flourish. There follow excellent parables; as that, she\ngathereth strength in going; that she goeth upon the ground, and yet\nhideth her head in the clouds; that in the daytime she sitteth in a\nwatch tower, and flieth most by night; that she mingleth things done,\nwith things not done; and that she is a terror to great cities. But that\nwhich passeth all the rest is: They do recount that the Earth, mother\nof the giants that made war against Jupiter, and were by him destroyed,\nthereupon in an anger brought forth Fame. For certain it is, that\nrebels, figured by the giants, and seditious fames and libels, are but\nbrothers and sisters, masculine and feminine. But now, if a man can tame\nthis monster, and bring her to feed at the hand, and govern her, and\nwith her fly other ravening fowl and kill them, it is somewhat worth.\nBut we are infected with the style of the poets. To speak now in a sad\nand serious manner: There is not, in all the politics, a place less\nhandled and more worthy to be handled, than this of fame. We will\ntherefore speak of these points: What are false fames; and what are true\nfames; and how they may be best discerned; how fames may be sown, and\nraised; how they may be spread, and multiplied; and how they may be\nchecked, and laid dead. And other things concerning the nature of fame.\nFame is of that force, as there is scarcely any great action, wherein it\nhath not a great part; especially in the war. Mucianus undid Vitellius,\nby a fame that he scattered, that Vitellius had in purpose to remove the\nlegions of Syria into Germany, and the legions of Germany into Syria;\nwhereupon the legions of Syria were infinitely inflamed. Julius Caesar\ntook Pompey unprovided, and laid asleep his industry and preparations,\nby a fame that he cunningly gave out: Caesar's own soldiers loved him\nnot, and being wearied with the wars, and laden with the spoils of Gaul,\nwould forsake him, as soon as he came into Italy. Livia settled all\nthings for the succession of her son Tiberius, by continual giving out,\nthat her husband Augustus was upon recovery and amendment, and it is an\nusual thing with the pashas, to conceal the death of the Great Turk from\nthe janizaries and men of war, to save the sacking of Constantinople\nand other towns, as their manner is. Themistocles made Xerxes, king of\nPersia, post apace out of Grecia, by giving out, that the Grecians had\na purpose to break his bridge of ships, which he had made athwart\nHellespont. There be a thousand such like examples; and the more they\nare, the less they need to be repeated; because a man meeteth with them\neverywhere. Therefore let all wise governors have as great a watch and\ncare over fames, as they have of the actions and designs themselves.\n\n\n[This essay was not finished]\n\n\n\n\nA Glossary Of Archaic Words And Phrases\n\n\n     Abridgment: miniature\n     Absurd: stupid, unpolished\n     Abuse: cheat, deceive\n     Aculeate: stinging\n     Adamant: loadstone\n     Adust: scorched\n     Advoutress: adulteress\n     Affect: like, desire\n     Antic: clown\n     Appose: question\n     Arietation: battering-ram\n     Audit: revenue\n     Avoidance: secret outlet\n     Battle: battalion\n     Bestow: settle in life\n     Blanch: flatter, evade\n     Brave: boastful\n     Bravery: boast, ostentation\n     Broke: deal in brokerage\n     Broken: shine by comparison\n     Broken music: part music\n     Cabinet: secret\n     Calendar: weather forecast\n     Card: chart, map\n     Care not to: are reckless\n     Cast: plan\n     Cat: cate, cake\n     Charge and adventure: cost and\n     risk\n     Check with: interfere\n     Chop: bandy words\n     Civil: peaceful\n     Close: secret, secretive\n     Collect: infer\n     Compound: compromise\n     Consent: agreement\n     Curious: elaborate\n     Custom: import duties\n     Deceive: rob\n     Derive: divert\n     Difficileness: moroseness\n     Discover: reveal\n     Donative: money gift\n     Doubt: fear\n     Equipollent: equally powerful\n     Espial: spy\n     Estate: state\n     Facility: of easy persuasion\n     Fair: rather\n     Fame: rumor\n     Favor: feature\n     Flashy: insipid\n     Foot-pace: lobby\n     Foreseen: guarded against\n     Froward: stubborn\n     Futile: babbling\n     Globe: complete body\n     Glorious: showy, boastful\n     Humorous: capricious\n     Hundred poll: hundredth head\n     Impertinent: irrelevant\n     Implicit: entangled\n     In a mean: in moderation\n     In smother: suppressed\n     Indifferent: impartial\n     Intend: attend to\n     Knap: knoll\n     Leese: lose\n     Let: hinder\n     Loose: shot\n     Lot: spell\n     Lurch: intercept\n     Make: profit, get\n     Manage: train\n     Mate: conquer\n     Material: business-like\n     Mere-stone: boundary stone\n     Muniting: fortifying\n     Nerve: sinew\n     Obnoxious: subservient, liable\n     Oes: round spangles\n     Pair: impair\n     Pardon: allowance\n     Passable: mediocre\n     Pine-apple-tree: pine\n     Plantation: colony\n     Platform: plan\n     Plausible: praiseworthy\n     Point device: excessively precise\n     Politic: politician\n     Poll: extort\n     Poser: examiner\n     Practice: plotting\n     Preoccupate: anticipate\n     Prest: prepared\n     Prick: plant\n     Proper: personal\n     Prospective: stereoscope\n     Proyne: prune\n     Purprise: enclosure\n     Push: pimple\n     Quarrel: pretext\n     Quech: flinch\n     Reason: principle\n     Recamera: retiring-room\n     Return: reaction\n     Return: wing running back\n     Rise: dignity\n     Round: straight\n     Save: account for\n     Scantling: measure\n     Seel: blind\n     Shrewd: mischievous\n     Sort: associate\n     Spial: spy\n     Staddle: sapling\n     Steal: do secretly\n     Stirp: family\n     Stond: stop, stand\n     Stoved: hot-housed\n     Style: title\n     Success: outcome\n     Sumptuary law: law against\n     extravagance\n     Superior globe: the heavens\n     Temper: proportion\n     Tendering: nursing\n     Tract: line, trait\n     Travel: travail, labor\n     Treaties: treatises\n     Trench to: touch\n     Trivial: common\n     Turquet: Turkish dwarf\n     Under foot: below value\n     Unready: untrained\n     Usury: interest\n     Value: certify\n     Virtuous: able\n     Votary: vowed\n     Wanton: spoiled\n     Wood: maze\n     Work: manage, utilize","title":"The Essays or Counsels, Civil and Moral","tradition":"philosophy-ethics","translated_text":null,"word_count":53012}