



Produced by Judith Boss





THE ESSAYS OR COUNSELS, CIVIL AND MORAL,

OF FRANCIS Ld. VERULAM VISCOUNT ST. ALBANS


By Francis Bacon


THE ESSAYS

     Of Truth
     Of Death
     Of Unity in Religion
     Of Revenge
     Of Adversity
     Of Simulation and Dissimulation
     Of Parents and Children
     Of Marriage and Single Life
     Of Envy
     Of Love
     Of Great Place
     Of Boldness
     Of Goodness and Goodness of Nature
     Of Nobility
     Of Seditions and Troubles
     Of Atheism
     Of Superstition
     Of Travel
     Of Empire
     Of Counsel
     Of Delays
     Of Cunning
     Of Wisdom for a Man's Self
     Of Innovations
     Of Dispatch
     Of Seeming Wise
     Of Friendship
     Of Expense
     Of the True Greatness of Kingdoms and Estates
     Of Regiment of Health
     Of Suspicion
     Of Discourse
     Of Plantations
     Of Riches
     Of Prophecies
     Of Ambition
     Of Masques and Triumphs
     Of Nature in Men
     Of Custom and Education
     Of Fortune
     Of Usury
     Of Youth and Age
     Of Beauty
     Of Deformity
     Of Building
     Of Gardens
     Of Negotiating
     Of Followers and Friends
     Of Suitors
     Of Studies
     Of Faction
     Of Ceremonies and Respects
     Of Praise
     Of Vain-glory
     Of Honor and Reputation
     Of Judicature
     Of Anger
     Of Vicissitude of Things
     Of Fame


TO

THE RIGHT HONORABLE

MY VERY GOOD LORD

THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM

HIS GRACE, LORD

HIGH ADMIRAL OF ENGLAND


EXCELLENT LORD:

SALOMON saies; A good Name is as a precious oyntment; And I assure my
selfe, such wil your Graces Name bee, with Posteritie. For your Fortune,
and Merit both, have been Eminent. And you have planted Things, that
are like to last. I doe now publish my Essayes; which, of all my other
workes, have beene most Currant: For that, as it seemes, they come home,
to Mens Businesse, and Bosomes. I have enlarged them, both in Number,
and Weight; So that they are indeed a New Worke. I thought it therefore
agreeable, to my Affection, and Obligation to your Grace, to prefix your
Name before them, both in English, and in Latine. For I doe conceive,
that the Latine Volume of them, (being in the Universall Language) may
last, as long as Bookes last. My Instauration, I dedicated to the King:
My Historie of Henry the Seventh, (which I have now also translated into
Latine) and my Portions of Naturall History, to the Prince: And these
I dedicate to your Grace; Being of the best Fruits, that by the good
Encrease, which God gives to my Pen and Labours, I could yeeld. God
leade your Grace by the Hand. Your Graces most Obliged and faithfull
Servant,

FR. ST. ALBAN





Of Truth


WHAT is truth? said jesting Pilate, and would not stay for an answer.
Certainly there be, that delight in giddiness, and count it a bondage to
fix a belief; affecting free-will in thinking, as well as in acting. And
though the sects of philosophers of that kind be gone, yet there remain
certain discoursing wits, which are of the same veins, though there be
not so much blood in them, as was in those of the ancients. But it is
not only the difficulty and labor, which men take in finding out
of truth, nor again, that when it is found, it imposeth upon men's
thoughts, that doth bring lies in favor; but a natural, though corrupt
love, of the lie itself. One of the later school of the Grecians,
examineth the matter, and is at a stand, to think what should be in it,
that men should love lies; where neither they make for pleasure, as with
poets, nor for advantage, as with the merchant; but for the lie's sake.
But I cannot tell; this same truth, is a naked, and open day-light, that
doth not show the masks, and mummeries, and triumphs, of the world, half
so stately and daintily as candle-lights. Truth may perhaps come to the
price of a pearl, that showeth best by day; but it will not rise to the
price of a diamond, or carbuncle, that showeth best in varied lights.
A mixture of a lie doth ever add pleasure. Doth any man doubt, that if
there were taken out of men's minds, vain opinions, flattering hopes,
false valuations, imaginations as one would, and the like, but it would
leave the minds, of a number of men, poor shrunken things, full of
melancholy and indisposition, and unpleasing to themselves?

One of the fathers, in great severity, called poesy vinum daemonum,
because it fireth the imagination; and yet, it is but with the shadow of
a lie. But it is not the lie that passeth through the mind, but the
lie that sinketh in, and settleth in it, that doth the hurt; such as we
spake of before. But howsoever these things are thus in men's depraved
judgments, and affections, yet truth, which only doth judge itself,
teacheth that the inquiry of truth, which is the love-making, or wooing
of it, the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it, and the
belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it, is the sovereign good of
human nature. The first creature of God, in the works of the days,
was the light of the sense; the last, was the light of reason; and his
sabbath work ever since, is the illumination of his Spirit. First he
breathed light, upon the face of the matter or chaos; then he breathed
light, into the face of man; and still he breatheth and inspireth light,
into the face of his chosen. The poet, that beautified the sect, that
was otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well: It is a
pleasure, to stand upon the shore, and to see ships tossed upon the sea;
a pleasure, to stand in the window of a castle, and to see a battle,
and the adventures thereof below: but no pleasure is comparable to the
standing upon the vantage ground of truth (a hill not to be commanded,
and where the air is always clear and serene), and to see the errors,
and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below; so always
that this prospect be with pity, and not with swelling, or pride.
Certainly, it is heaven upon earth, to have a man's mind move in
charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the poles of truth.

To pass from theological, and philosophical truth, to the truth of civil
business; it will be acknowledged, even by those that practise it not,
that clear, and round dealing, is the honor of man's nature; and that
mixture of falsehoods, is like alloy in coin of gold and silver, which
may make the metal work the better, but it embaseth it. For these
winding, and crooked courses, are the goings of the serpent; which goeth
basely upon the belly, and not upon the feet. There is no vice, that
doth so cover a man with shame, as to be found false and perfidious. And
therefore Montaigne saith prettily, when he inquired the reason, why the
word of the lie should be such a disgrace, and such an odious charge?
Saith he, If it be well weighed, to say that a man lieth, is as much to
say, as that he is brave towards God, and a coward towards men. For a
lie faces God, and shrinks from man. Surely the wickedness of falsehood,
and breach of faith, cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in
that it shall be the last peal, to call the judgments of God upon the
generations of men; it being foretold, that when Christ cometh, he shall
not find faith upon the earth.




Of Death


MEN fear death, as children fear to go in the dark; and as that natural
fear in children, is increased with tales, so is the other. Certainly,
the contemplation of death, as the wages of sin, and passage to another
world, is holy and religious; but the fear of it, as a tribute due
unto nature, is weak. Yet in religious meditations, there is sometimes
mixture of vanity, and of superstition. You shall read, in some of the
friars' books of mortification, that a man should think with himself,
what the pain is, if he have but his finger's end pressed, or tortured,
and thereby imagine, what the pains of death are, when the whole body is
corrupted, and dissolved; when many times death passeth, with less
pain than the torture of a limb; for the most vital parts, are not the
quickest of sense. And by him that spake only as a philosopher, and
natural man, it was well said, Pompa mortis magis terret, quam mors
ipsa. Groans, and convulsions, and a discolored face, and friends
weeping, and blacks, and obsequies, and the like, show death terrible.
It is worthy the observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man,
so weak, but it mates, and masters, the fear of death; and therefore,
death is no such terrible enemy, when a man hath so many attendants
about him, that can win the combat of him. Revenge triumphs over
death; love slights it; honor aspireth to it; grief flieth to it;
fear preoccupateth it; nay, we read, after Otho the emperor had slain
himself, pity (which is the tenderest of affections) provoked many to
die, out of mere compassion to their sovereign, and as the truest sort
of followers. Nay, Seneca adds niceness and satiety: Cogita quamdiu
eadem feceris; mori velle, non tantum fortis aut miser, sed etiam
fastidiosus potest. A man would die, though he were neither valiant, nor
miserable, only upon a weariness to do the same thing so oft, over and
over. It is no less worthy, to observe, how little alteration in good
spirits, the approaches of death make; for they appear to be the same
men, till the last instant. Augustus Caesar died in a compliment; Livia,
conjugii nostri memor, vive et vale. Tiberius in dissimulation; as
Tacitus saith of him, Jam Tiberium vires et corpus, non dissimulatio,
deserebant. Vespasian in a jest, sitting upon the stool; Ut puto deus
fio. Galba with a sentence; Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani; holding
forth his neck. Septimius Severus in despatch; Adeste si quid mihi
restat agendum. And the like. Certainly the Stoics bestowed too much
cost upon death, and by their great preparations, made it appear more
fearful. Better saith he, qui finem vitae extremum inter munera ponat
naturae. It is as natural to die, as to be born; and to a little infant,
perhaps, the one is as painful, as the other. He that dies in an earnest
pursuit, is like one that is wounded in hot blood; who, for the time,
scarce feels the hurt; and therefore a mind fixed, and bent upon
somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolors of death. But, above all,
believe it, the sweetest canticle is', Nunc dimittis; when a man hath
obtained worthy ends, and expectations. Death hath this also; that
it openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy.--Extinctus
amabitur idem.




Of Unity In Religion


RELIGION being the chief band of human society, it is a happy thing,
when itself is well contained within the true band of unity. The
quarrels, and divisions about religion, were evils unknown to the
heathen. The reason was, because the religion of the heathen, consisted
rather in rites and ceremonies, than in any constant belief. For you
may imagine, what kind of faith theirs was, when the chief doctors,
and fathers of their church, were the poets. But the true God hath this
attribute, that he is a jealous God; and therefore, his worship and
religion, will endure no mixture, nor partner. We shall therefore speak
a few words, concerning the unity of the church; what are the fruits
thereof; what the bounds; and what the means.

The fruits of unity (next unto the well pleasing of God, which is all
in all) are two: the one, towards those that are without the church,
the other, towards those that are within. For the former; it is certain,
that heresies, and schisms, are of all others the greatest scandals;
yea, more than corruption of manners. For as in the natural body, a
wound, or solution of continuity, is worse than a corrupt humor; so in
the spiritual. So that nothing, doth so much keep men out of the church,
and drive men out of the church, as breach of unity. And therefore,
whensoever it cometh to that pass, that one saith, Ecce in deserto,
another saith, Ecce in penetralibus; that is, when some men seek Christ,
in the conventicles of heretics, and others, in an outward face of a
church, that voice had need continually to sound in men's ears, Nolite
exire,--Go not out. The doctor of the Gentiles (the propriety of whose
vocation, drew him to have a special care of those without) saith, if
an heathen come in, and hear you speak with several tongues, will he not
say that you are mad? And certainly it is little better, when atheists,
and profane persons, do hear of so many discordant, and contrary
opinions in religion; it doth avert them from the church, and maketh
them, to sit down in the chair of the scorners. It is but a light thing,
to be vouched in so serious a matter, but yet it expresseth well the
deformity. There is a master of scoffing, that in his catalogue of books
of a feigned library, sets down this title of a book, The Morris-Dance
of Heretics. For indeed, every sect of them, hath a diverse posture, or
cringe by themselves, which cannot but move derision in worldlings, and
depraved politics, who are apt to contemn holy things.

As for the fruit towards those that are within; it is peace; which
containeth infinite blessings. It establisheth faith; it kindleth
charity; the outward peace of the church, distilleth into peace of
conscience; and it turneth the labors of writing, and reading of
controversies, into treaties of mortification and devotion.

Concerning the bounds of unity; the true placing of them, importeth
exceedingly. There appear to be two extremes. For to certain zealants,
all speech of pacification is odious. Is it peace, Jehu,? What hast
thou to do with peace? turn thee behind me. Peace is not the matter,
but following, and party. Contrariwise, certain Laodiceans, and lukewarm
persons, think they may accommodate points of religion, by middle way,
and taking part of both, and witty reconcilements; as if they would
make an arbitrament between God and man. Both these extremes are to be
avoided; which will be done, if the league of Christians, penned by our
Savior himself, were in two cross clauses thereof, soundly and plainly
expounded: He that is not with us, is against us; and again, He that is
not against us, is with us; that is, if the points fundamental and of
substance in religion, were truly discerned and distinguished, from
points not merely of faith, but of opinion, order, or good intention.
This is a thing may seem to many a matter trivial, and done already. But
if it were done less partially, it would be embraced more generally.

Of this I may give only this advice, according to my small model.
Men ought to take heed, of rending God's church, by two kinds of
controversies. The one is, when the matter of the point controverted,
is too small and light, not worth the heat and strife about it, kindled
only by contradiction. For, as it is noted, by one of the fathers,
Christ's coat indeed had no seam, but the church's vesture was of divers
colors; whereupon he saith, In veste varietas sit, scissura non sit;
they be two things, unity and uniformity. The other is, when the matter
of the point controverted, is great, but it is driven to an over-great
subtilty, and obscurity; so that it becometh a thing rather ingenious,
than substantial. A man that is of judgment and understanding, shall
sometimes hear ignorant men differ, and know well within himself, that
those which so differ, mean one thing, and yet they themselves would
never agree. And if it come so to pass, in that distance of judgment,
which is between man and man, shall we not think that God above, that
knows the heart, doth not discern that frail men, in some of their
contradictions, intend the same thing; and accepteth of both? The nature
of such controversies is excellently expressed, by St. Paul, in the
warning and precept, that he giveth concerning the same, Devita profanas
vocum novitates, et oppositiones falsi nominis scientiae. Men create
oppositions, which are not; and put them into new terms, so fixed,
as whereas the meaning ought to govern the term, the term in effect
governeth the meaning. There be also two false peaces, or unities: the
one, when the peace is grounded, but upon an implicit ignorance; for all
colors will agree in the dark: the other, when it is pieced up, upon
a direct admission of contraries, in fundamental points. For truth and
falsehood, in such things, are like the iron and clay, in the toes of
Nebuchadnezzar's image; they may cleave, but they will not incorporate.

Concerning the means of procuring unity; men must beware, that in the
procuring, or reuniting, of religious unity, they do not dissolve and
deface the laws of charity, and of human society. There be two swords
amongst Christians, the spiritual and temporal; and both have their due
office and place, in the maintenance of religion. But we may not take up
the third sword, which is Mahomet's sword, or like unto it; that is,
to propagate religion by wars, or by sanguinary persecutions to force
consciences; except it be in cases of overt scandal, blasphemy, or
intermixture of practice against the state; much less to nourish
seditions; to authorize conspiracies and rebellions; to put the sword
into the people's hands; and the like; tending to the subversion of all
government, which is the ordinance of God. For this is but to dash the
first table against the second; and so to consider men as Christians, as
we forget that they are men. Lucretius the poet, when he beheld the act
of Agamemnon, that could endure the sacrificing of his own daughter,
exclaimed: Tantum Religio potuit suadere malorum.

What would he have said, if he had known of the massacre in France,
or the powder treason of England? He would have been seven times more
Epicure, and atheist, than he was. For as the temporal sword is to be
drawn with great circumspection in cases of religion; so it is a thing
monstrous to put it into the hands of the common people. Let that be
left unto the Anabaptists, and other furies. It was great blasphemy,
when the devil said, I will ascend, and be like the highest; but it is
greater blasphemy, to personate God, and bring him in saying, I will
descend, and be like the prince of darkness; and what is it better,
to make the cause of religion to descend, to the cruel and execrable
actions of murthering princes, butchery of people, and subversion of
states and governments? Surely this is to bring down the Holy Ghost,
instead of the likeness of a dove, in the shape of a vulture or raven;
and set, out of the bark of a Christian church, a flag of a bark of
pirates, and assassins. Therefore it is most necessary, that the church,
by doctrine and decree, princes by their sword, and all learnings, both
Christian and moral, as by their Mercury rod, do damn and send to hell
for ever, those facts and opinions tending to the support of the same;
as hath been already in good part done. Surely in counsels concerning
religion, that counsel of the apostle would be prefixed, Ira hominis non
implet justitiam Dei. And it was a notable observation of a wise father,
and no less ingenuously confessed; that those which held and persuaded
pressure of consciences, were commonly interested therein, themselves,
for their own ends.




Of Revenge


REVENGE is a kind of wild justice; which the more man's nature runs to,
the more ought law to weed it out. For as for the first wrong, it doth
but offend the law; but the revenge of that wrong, putteth the law out
of office. Certainly, in taking revenge, a man is but even with his
enemy; but in passing it over, he is superior; for it is a prince's part
to pardon. And Solomon, I am sure, saith, It is the glory of a man, to
pass by an offence. That which is past is gone, and irrevocable; and
wise men have enough to do, with things present and to come; therefore
they do but trifle with themselves, that labor in past matters. There
is no man doth a wrong, for the wrong's sake; but thereby to purchase
himself profit, or pleasure, or honor, or the like. Therefore why should
I be angry with a man, for loving himself better than me? And if any man
should do wrong, merely out of ill-nature, why, yet it is but like the
thorn or briar, which prick and scratch, because they can do no other.
The most tolerable sort of revenge, is for those wrongs which there is
no law to remedy; but then let a man take heed, the revenge be such as
there is no law to punish; else a man's enemy is still before hand, and
it is two for one. Some, when they take revenge, are desirous, the
party should know, whence it cometh. This is the more generous. For the
delight seemeth to be, not so much in doing the hurt, as in making
the party repent. But base and crafty cowards, are like the arrow that
flieth in the dark. Cosmus, duke of Florence, had a desperate saying
against perfidious or neglecting friends, as if those wrongs were
unpardonable; You shall read (saith he) that we are commanded to forgive
our enemies; but you never read, that we are commanded to forgive our
friends. But yet the spirit of Job was in a better tune: Shall we (saith
he) take good at God's hands, and not be content to take evil also? And
so of friends in a proportion. This is certain, that a man that studieth
revenge, keeps his own wounds green, which otherwise would heal, and do
well. Public revenges are for the most part fortunate; as that for the
death of Caesar; for the death of Pertinax; for the death of Henry the
Third of France; and many more. But in private revenges, it is not so.
Nay rather, vindictive persons live the life of witches; who, as they
are mischievous, so end they infortunate.




Of Adversity


IT WAS an high speech of Seneca (after the manner of the Stoics), that
the good things, which belong to prosperity, are to be wished; but the
good things, that belong to adversity, are to be admired. Bona rerum
secundarum optabilia; adversarum mirabilia. Certainly if miracles be the
command over nature, they appear most in adversity. It is yet a higher
speech of his, than the other (much too high for a heathen), It is true
greatness, to have in one the frailty of a man, and the security of
a God. Vere magnum habere fragilitatem hominis, securitatem Dei. This
would have done better in poesy, where transcendences are more allowed.
And the poets indeed have been busy with it; for it is in effect the
thing, which figured in that strange fiction of the ancient poets, which
seemeth not to be without mystery; nay, and to have some approach to the
state of a Christian; that Hercules, when he went to unbind Prometheus
(by whom human nature is represented), sailed the length of the great
ocean, in an earthen pot or pitcher; lively describing Christian
resolution, that saileth in the frail bark of the flesh, through the
waves of the world. But to speak in a mean. The virtue of prosperity,
is temperance; the virtue of adversity, is fortitude; which in morals
is the more heroical virtue. Prosperity is the blessing of the Old
Testament; adversity is the blessing of the New; which carrieth the
greater benediction, and the clearer revelation of God's favor. Yet even
in the Old Testament, if you listen to David's harp, you shall hear as
many hearse-like airs as carols; and the pencil of the Holy Ghost hath
labored more in describing the afflictions of Job, than the felicities
of Solomon. Prosperity is not without many fears and distastes; and
adversity is not without comforts and hopes. We see in needle-works and
embroideries, it is more pleasing to have a lively work, upon a sad and
solemn ground, than to have a dark and melancholy work, upon a lightsome
ground: judge therefore of the pleasure of the heart, by the pleasure
of the eye. Certainly virtue is like precious odors, most fragrant when
they are incensed, or crushed: for prosperity doth best discover vice,
but adversity doth best discover virtue.




Of Simulation And Dissimulation


DISSIMULATION is but a faint kind of policy, or wisdom; for it asketh
a strong wit, and a strong heart, to know when to tell truth, and to
do it. Therefore it is the weaker sort of politics, that are the great
dissemblers.

Tacitus saith, Livia sorted well with the arts of her husband, and
dissimulation of her son; attributing arts or policy to Augustus,
and dissimulation to Tiberius. And again, when Mucianus encourageth
Vespasian, to take arms against Vitellius, he saith, We rise not against
the piercing judgment of Augustus, nor the extreme caution or closeness
of Tiberius. These properties, of arts or policy, and dissimulation
or closeness, are indeed habits and faculties several, and to be
distinguished. For if a man have that penetration of judgment, as he can
discern what things are to be laid open, and what to be secreted, and
what to be showed at half lights, and to whom and when (which indeed are
arts of state, and arts of life, as Tacitus well calleth them), to him,
a habit of dissimulation is a hinderance and a poorness. But if a man
cannot obtain to that judgment, then it is left to him generally, to
be close, and a dissembler. For where a man cannot choose, or vary in
particulars, there it is good to take the safest, and wariest way, in
general; like the going softly, by one that cannot well see. Certainly
the ablest men that ever were, have had all an openness, and frankness,
of dealing; and a name of certainty and veracity; but then they were
like horses well managed; for they could tell passing well, when to stop
or turn; and at such times, when they thought the case indeed required
dissimulation, if then they used it, it came to pass that the former
opinion, spread abroad, of their good faith and clearness of dealing,
made them almost invisible.

There be three degrees of this hiding and veiling of a man's self. The
first, closeness, reservation, and secrecy; when a man leaveth himself
without observation, or without hold to be taken, what he is. The
second, dissimulation, in the negative; when a man lets fall signs and
arguments, that he is not, that he is. And the third, simulation, in the
affirmative; when a man industriously and expressly feigns and pretends
to be, that he is not.

For the first of these, secrecy; it is indeed the virtue of a confessor.
And assuredly, the secret man heareth many confessions. For who will
open himself, to a blab or a babbler? But if a man be thought secret, it
inviteth discovery; as the more close air sucketh in the more open; and
as in confession, the revealing is not for worldly use, but for the ease
of a man's heart, so secret men come to the knowledge of many things
in that kind; while men rather discharge their minds, than impart their
minds. In few words, mysteries are due to secrecy. Besides (to say
truth) nakedness is uncomely, as well in mind as body; and it addeth no
small reverence, to men's manners and actions, if they be not altogether
open. As for talkers and futile persons, they are commonly vain and
credulous withal. For he that talketh what he knoweth, will also talk
what he knoweth not. Therefore set it down, that an habit of secrecy, is
both politic and moral. And in this part, it is good that a man's face
give his tongue leave to speak. For the discovery of a man' s self, by
the tracts of his countenance, is a great weakness and betraying; by how
much it is many times more marked, and believed, than a man's words.

For the second, which is dissimulation; it followeth many times upon
secrecy, by a necessity; so that he that will be secret, must be a
dissembler in some degree. For men are too cunning, to suffer a man to
keep an indifferent carriage between both, and to be secret, without
swaying the balance on either side. They will so beset a man with
questions, and draw him on, and pick it out of him, that, without an
absurd silence, he must show an inclination one way; or if he do not,
they will gather as much by his silence, as by his speech. As for
equivocations, or oraculous speeches, they cannot hold out long. So
that no man can be secret, except he give himself a little scope of
dissimulation; which is, as it were, but the skirts or train of secrecy.

But for the third degree, which is simulation, and false profession;
that I hold more culpable, and less politic; except it be in great and
rare matters. And therefore a general custom of simulation (which is
this last degree) is a vice, using either of a natural falseness or
fearfulness, or of a mind that hath some main faults, which because
a man must needs disguise, it maketh him practise simulation in other
things, lest his hand should be out of use.

The great advantages of simulation and dissimulation are three. First,
to lay asleep opposition, and to surprise. For where a man's intentions
are published, it is an alarum, to call up all that are against them.
The second is, to reserve to a man's self a fair retreat. For if a man
engage himself by a manifest declaration, he must go through or take a
fall. The third is, the better to discover the mind of another. For to
him that opens himself, men will hardly show themselves adverse; but
will fair let him go on, and turn their freedom of speech, to freedom of
thought. And therefore it is a good shrewd proverb of the Spaniard, Tell
a lie and find a troth. As if there were no way of discovery, but by
simulation. There be also three disadvantages, to set it even. The
first, that simulation and dissimulation commonly carry with them a show
of fearfulness, which in any business, doth spoil the feathers, of round
flying up to the mark. The second, that it puzzleth and perplexeth the
conceits of many, that perhaps would otherwise co-operate with him; and
makes a man walk almost alone, to his own ends. The third and greatest
is, that it depriveth a man of one of the most principal instruments for
action; which is trust and belief. The best composition and temperature,
is to have openness in fame and opinion; secrecy in habit; dissimulation
in seasonable use; and a power to feign, if there be no remedy.




Of Parents And Children


THE joys of parents are secret; and so are their griefs and fears.
They cannot utter the one; nor they will not utter the other. Children
sweeten labors; but they make misfortunes more bitter. They increase
the cares of life; but they mitigate the remembrance of death. The
perpetuity by generation is common to beasts; but memory, merit, and
noble works, are proper to men. And surely a man shall see the noblest
works and foundations have proceeded from childless men; which have
sought to express the images of their minds, where those of their bodies
have failed. So the care of posterity is most in them, that have no
posterity. They that are the first raisers of their houses, are most
indulgent towards their children; beholding them as the continuance,
not only of their kind, but of their work; and so both children and
creatures.

The difference in affection, of parents towards their several children,
is many times unequal; and sometimes unworthy; especially in the
mothers; as Solomon saith, A wise son rejoiceth the father, but an
ungracious son shames the mother. A man shall see, where there is a
house full of children, one or two of the eldest respected, and the
youngest made wantons; but in the midst, some that are as it
were forgotten, who many times, nevertheless, prove the best. The
illiberality of parents, in allowance towards their children, is an
harmful error; makes them base; acquaints them with shifts; makes them
sort with mean company; and makes them surfeit more when they come to
plenty. And therefore the proof is best, when men keep their authority
towards the children, but not their purse. Men have a foolish manner
(both parents and schoolmasters and servants) in creating and breeding
an emulation between brothers, during childhood, which many times
sorteth to discord when they are men, and disturbeth families. The
Italians make little difference between children, and nephews or near
kinsfolks; but so they be of the lump, they care not though they pass
not through their own body. And, to say truth, in nature it is much
a like matter; insomuch that we see a nephew sometimes resembleth an
uncle, or a kinsman, more than his own parent; as the blood happens.
Let parents choose betimes, the vocations and courses they mean their
children should take; for then they are most flexible; and let them
not too much apply themselves to the disposition of their children, as
thinking they will take best to that, which they have most mind to.
It is true, that if the affection or aptness of the children be
extraordinary, then it is good not to cross it; but generally the
precept is good, optimum elige, suave et facile illud faciet consuetudo.
Younger brothers are commonly fortunate, but seldom or never where the
elder are disinherited.




Of Marriage And Single Life


HE THAT hath wife and children hath given hostages to fortune; for they
are impediments to great enterprises, either of virtue or mischief.
Certainly the best works, and of greatest merit for the public, have
proceeded from the unmarried or childless men; which both in affection
and means, have married and endowed the public. Yet it were great reason
that those that have children, should have greatest care of future
times; unto which they know they must transmit their dearest pledges.
Some there are, who though they lead a single life, yet their thoughts
do end with themselves, and account future times impertinences. Nay,
there are some other, that account wife and children, but as bills of
charges. Nay more, there are some foolish rich covetous men, that take
a pride, in having no children, because they may be thought so much the
richer. For perhaps they have heard some talk, Such an one is a great
rich man, and another except to it, Yea, but he hath a great charge
of children; as if it were an abatement to his riches. But the most
ordinary cause of a single life, is liberty, especially in certain
self-pleasing and humorous minds, which are so sensible of every
restraint, as they will go near to think their girdles and garters, to
be bonds and shackles. Unmarried men are best friends, best masters,
best servants; but not always best subjects; for they are light to run
away; and almost all fugitives, are of that condition. A single life
doth well with churchmen; for charity will hardly water the ground,
where it must first fill a pool. It is indifferent for judges and
magistrates; for if they be facile and corrupt, you shall have a
servant, five times worse than a wife. For soldiers, I find the generals
commonly in their hortatives, put men in mind of their wives and
children; and I think the despising of marriage amongst the Turks,
maketh the vulgar soldier more base. Certainly wife and children are a
kind of discipline of humanity; and single men, though they may be many
times more charitable, because their means are less exhaust, yet, on
the other side, they are more cruel and hardhearted (good to make severe
inquisitors), because their tenderness is not so oft called upon. Grave
natures, led by custom, and therefore constant, are commonly loving
husbands, as was said of Ulysses, vetulam suam praetulit immortalitati.
Chaste women are often proud and froward, as presuming upon the merit
of their chastity. It is one of the best bonds, both of chastity and
obedience, in the wife, if she think her husband wise; which she will
never do, if she find him jealous. Wives are young men's mistresses;
companions for middle age; and old men's nurses. So as a man may have a
quarrel to marry, when he will. But yet he was reputed one of the wise
men, that made answer to the question, when a man should marry,--A
young man not yet, an elder man not at all. It is often seen that bad
husbands, have very good wives; whether it be, that it raiseth the price
of their husband's kindness, when it comes; or that the wives take a
pride in their patience. But this never fails, if the bad husbands were
of their own choosing, against their friends' consent; for then they
will be sure to make good their own folly.




Of Envy


THERE be none of the affections, which have been noted to fascinate or
bewitch, but love and envy. They both have vehement wishes; they frame
themselves readily into imaginations and suggestions; and they come
easily into the eye, especially upon the present of the objects; which
are the points that conduce to fascination, if any such thing there
be. We see likewise, the Scripture calleth envy an evil eye; and the
astrologers, call the evil influences of the stars, evil aspects; so
that still there seemeth to be acknowledged, in the act of envy, an
ejaculation or irradiation of the eye. Nay, some have been so curious,
as to note, that the times when the stroke or percussion of an envious
eye doth most hurt, are when the party envied is beheld in glory or
triumph; for that sets an edge upon envy: and besides, at such times the
spirits of the person envied, do come forth most into the outward parts,
and so meet the blow.

But leaving these curiosities (though not unworthy to be thought on, in
fit place), we will handle, what persons are apt to envy others; what
persons are most subject to be envied themselves; and what is the
difference between public and private envy.

A man that hath no virtue in himself, ever envieth virtue in others. For
men's minds, will either feed upon their own good, or upon others' evil;
and who wanteth the one, will prey upon the other; and whoso is out of
hope, to attain to another's virtue, will seek to come at even hand, by
depressing another's fortune.

A man that is busy, and inquisitive, is commonly envious. For to know
much of other men's matters, cannot be because all that ado may concern
his own estate; therefore it must needs be, that he taketh a kind of
play-pleasure, in looking upon the fortunes of others. Neither can he,
that mindeth but his own business, find much matter for envy. For envy
is a gadding passion, and walketh the streets, and doth not keep home:
Non est curiosus, quin idem sit malevolus.

Men of noble birth, are noted to be envious towards new men, when they
rise. For the distance is altered, and it is like a deceit of the eye,
that when others come on, they think themselves, go back.

Deformed persons, and eunuchs, and old men, and bastards, are envious.
For he that cannot possibly mend his own case, will do what he can,
to impair another's; except these defects light upon a very brave, and
heroical nature, which thinketh to make his natural wants part of his
honor; in that it should be said, that an eunuch, or a lame man, did
such great matters; affecting the honor of a miracle; as it was in
Narses the eunuch, and Agesilaus and Tamberlanes, that were lame men.

The same is the case of men, that rise after calamities and misfortunes.
For they are as men fallen out with the times; and think other men's
harms, a redemption of their own sufferings.

They that desire to excel in too many matters, out of levity and vain
glory, are ever envious. For they cannot want work; it being impossible,
but many, in some one of those things, should surpass them. Which was
the character of Adrian the Emperor; that mortally envied poets, and
painters, and artificers, in works wherein he had a vein to excel.

Lastly, near kinsfolks, and fellows in office, and those that have been
bred together, are more apt to envy their equals, when they are raised.
For it doth upbraid unto them their own fortunes, and pointeth at them,
and cometh oftener into their remembrance, and incurreth likewise more
into the note of others; and envy ever redoubleth from speech and fame.
Cain's envy was the more vile and malignant, towards his brother Abel,
because when his sacrifice was better accepted, there was no body to
look on. Thus much for those, that are apt to envy.

Concerning those that are more or less subject to envy: First, persons
of eminent virtue, when they are advanced, are less envied. For their
fortune seemeth, but due unto them; and no man envieth the payment of a
debt, but rewards and liberality rather. Again, envy is ever joined
with the comparing of a man's self; and where there is no comparison, no
envy; and therefore kings are not envied, but by kings. Nevertheless it
is to be noted, that unworthy persons are most envied, at their first
coming in, and afterwards overcome it better; whereas contrariwise,
persons of worth and merit are most envied, when their fortune
continueth long. For by that time, though their virtue be the same, yet
it hath not the same lustre; for fresh men grow up that darken it.

Persons of noble blood, are less envied in their rising. For it seemeth
but right done to their birth. Besides, there seemeth not much added
to their fortune; and envy is as the sunbeams, that beat hotter upon a
bank, or steep rising ground, than upon a flat. And for the same reason,
those that are advanced by degrees, are less envied than those that are
advanced suddenly and per saltum.

Those that have joined with their honor great travels, cares, or perils,
are less subject to envy. For men think that they earn their honors
hardly, and pity them sometimes; and pity ever healeth envy. Wherefore
you shall observe, that the more deep and sober sort of politic persons,
in their greatness, are ever bemoaning themselves, what a life they
lead; chanting a quanta patimur! Not that they feel it so, but only to
abate the edge of envy. But this is to be understood, of business
that is laid upon men, and not such, as they call unto themselves.
For nothing increaseth envy more, than an unnecessary and ambitious
engrossing of business. And nothing doth extinguish envy more, than for
a great person to preserve all other inferior officers, in their full
lights and pre-eminences of their places. For by that means, there be so
many screens between him and envy.

Above all, those are most subject to envy, which carry the greatness of
their fortunes, in an insolent and proud manner; being never well, but
while they are showing how great they are, either by outward pomp, or
by triumphing over all opposition or competition; whereas wise men
will rather do sacrifice to envy, in suffering themselves sometimes of
purpose to be crossed, and overborne in things that do not much concern
them. Notwithstanding, so much is true, that the carriage of greatness,
in a plain and open manner (so it be without arrogancy and vain glory)
doth draw less envy, than if it be in a more crafty and cunning fashion.
For in that course, a man doth but disavow fortune; and seemeth to be
conscious of his own want in worth; and doth but teach others, to envy
him.

Lastly, to conclude this part; as we said in the beginning, that the act
of envy had somewhat in it of witchcraft, so there is no other cure of
envy, but the cure of witchcraft; and that is, to remove the lot (as
they call it) and to lay it upon another. For which purpose, the wiser
sort of great persons, bring in ever upon the stage somebody upon whom
to derive the envy, that would come upon themselves; sometimes upon
ministers and servants; sometimes upon colleagues and associates; and
the like; and for that turn there are never wanting, some persons
of violent and undertaking natures, who, so they may have power and
business, will take it at any cost.

Now, to speak of public envy. There is yet some good in public envy,
whereas in private, there is none. For public envy, is as an ostracism,
that eclipseth men, when they grow too great. And therefore it is a
bridle also to great ones, to keep them within bounds.

This envy, being in the Latin word invidia, goeth in the modern
language, by the name of discontentment; of which we shall speak, in
handling sedition. It is a disease, in a state, like to infection. For
as infection spreadeth upon that which is sound, and tainteth it;
so when envy is gotten once into a state, it traduceth even the best
actions thereof, and turneth them into an ill odor. And therefore there
is little won, by intermingling of plausible actions. For that doth
argue but a weakness, and fear of envy, which hurteth so much the more,
as it is likewise usual in infections; which if you fear them, you call
them upon you.

This public envy, seemeth to beat chiefly upon principal officers or
ministers, rather than upon kings, and estates themselves. But this is
a sure rule, that if the envy upon the minister be great, when the cause
of it in him is small; or if the envy be general, in a manner upon all
the ministers of an estate; then the envy (though hidden) is truly upon
the state itself. And so much of public envy or discontentment, and the
difference thereof from private envy, which was handled in the first
place.

We will add this in general, touching the affection of envy; that of all
other affections, it is the most importune and continual. For of other
affections, there is occasion given, but now and then; and therefore it
was well said, Invidia festos dies non agit: for it is ever working upon
some or other. And it is also noted, that love and envy do make a man
pine, which other affections do not, because they are not so continual.
It is also the vilest affection, and the most depraved; for which cause
it is the proper attribute of the devil, who is called, the envious man,
that soweth tares amongst the wheat by night; as it always cometh to
pass, that envy worketh subtilly, and in the dark, and to the prejudice
of good things, such as is the wheat.




Of Love


THE stage is more beholding to love, than the life of man. For as to the
stage, love is ever matter of comedies, and now and then of tragedies;
but in life it doth much mischief; sometimes like a siren, sometimes
like a fury. You may observe, that amongst all the great and worthy
persons (whereof the memory remaineth, either ancient or recent) there
is not one, that hath been transported to the mad degree of love: which
shows that great spirits, and great business, do keep out this weak
passion. You must except, nevertheless, Marcus Antonius, the half
partner of the empire of Rome, and Appius Claudius, the decemvir
and lawgiver; whereof the former was indeed a voluptuous man, and
inordinate; but the latter was an austere and wise man: and therefore it
seems (though rarely) that love can find entrance, not only into an open
heart, but also into a heart well fortified, if watch be not well kept.
It is a poor saying of Epicurus, Satis magnum alter alteri theatrum
sumus; as if man, made for the contemplation of heaven, and all noble
objects, should do nothing but kneel before a little idol, and make
himself a subject, though not of the mouth (as beasts are), yet of the
eye; which was given him for higher purposes. It is a strange thing, to
note the excess of this passion, and how it braves the nature, and
value of things, by this; that the speaking in a perpetual hyperbole, is
comely in nothing but in love. Neither is it merely in the phrase; for
whereas it hath been well said, that the arch-flatterer, with whom all
the petty flatterers have intelligence, is a man's self; certainly the
lover is more. For there was never proud man thought so absurdly well
of himself, as the lover doth of the person loved; and therefore it was
well said, That it is impossible to love, and to be wise. Neither doth
this weakness appear to others only, and not to the party loved; but to
the loved most of all, except the love be reciproque. For it is a true
rule, that love is ever rewarded, either with the reciproque, or with an
inward and secret contempt. By how much the more, men ought to beware of
this passion, which loseth not only other things, but itself! As for the
other losses, the poet's relation doth well figure them: that he that
preferred Helena, quitted the gifts of Juno and Pallas. For whosoever
esteemeth too much of amorous affection, quitteth both riches and
wisdom. This passion hath his floods, in very times of weakness; which
are great prosperity, and great adversity; though this latter hath been
less observed: both which times kindle love, and make it more fervent,
and therefore show it to be the child of folly. They do best, who if
they cannot but admit love, yet make it keep quarters; and sever it
wholly from their serious affairs, and actions, of life; for if it check
once with business, it troubleth men's fortunes, and maketh men, that
they can no ways be true to their own ends. I know not how, but martial
men are given to love: I think, it is but as they are given to wine; for
perils commonly ask to be paid in pleasures. There is in man's nature,
a secret inclination and motion, towards love of others, which if it be
not spent upon some one or a few, doth naturally spread itself towards
many, and maketh men become humane and charitable; as it is seen
sometime in friars. Nuptial love maketh mankind; friendly love
perfecteth it; but wanton love corrupteth, and embaseth it.




Of Great Place


MEN in great place are thrice servants: servants of the sovereign or
state; servants of fame; and servants of business. So as they have no
freedom; neither in their persons, nor in their actions, nor in their
times. It is a strange desire, to seek power and to lose liberty: or to
seek power over others, and to lose power over a man's self. The rising
unto place is laborious; and by pains, men come to greater pains; and
it is sometimes base; and by indignities, men come to dignities. The
standing is slippery, and the regress is either a downfall, or at least
an eclipse, which is a melancholy thing. Cum non sis qui fueris, non
esse cur velis vivere. Nay, retire men cannot when they would, neither
will they, when it were reason; but are impatient of privateness, even
in age and sickness, which require the shadow; like old townsmen, that
will be still sitting at their street door, though thereby they offer
age to scom. Certainly great persons had need to borrow other men's
opinions, to think themselves happy; for if they judge by their own
feeling, they cannot find it; but if they think with themselves, what
other men think of them, and that other men would fain be, as they are,
then they are happy, as it were, by report; when perhaps they find the
contrary within. For they are the first, that find their own griefs,
though they be the last, that find their own faults. Certainly men in
great fortunes are strangers to themselves, and while they are in the
puzzle of business, they have no time to tend their health, either of
body or mind. Illi mors gravis incubat, qui notus nimis omnibus, ignotus
moritur sibi. In place, there is license to do good, and evil; whereof
the latter is a curse: for in evil, the best condition is not to win;
the second, not to can. But power to do good, is the true and lawful
end of aspiring. For good thoughts (though God accept them) yet, towards
men, are little better than good dreams, except they be put in act; and
that cannot be, without power and place, as the vantage, and commanding
ground. Merit and good works, is the end of man's motion; and conscience
of the same is the accomplishment of man's rest. For if a man can be
partaker of God's theatre, he shall likewise be partaker of God's rest.
Et conversus Deus, ut aspiceret opera quae fecerunt manus suae, vidit
quod omnia essent bona nimis; and then the sabbath. In the discharge of
thy place, set before thee the best examples; for imitation is a globe
of precepts. And after a time, set before thee thine own example; and
examine thyself strictly, whether thou didst not best at first. Neglect
not also the examples, of those that have carried themselves ill, in
the same place; not to set off thyself, by taxing their memory, but to
direct thyself, what to avoid. Reform therefore, without bravery, or
scandal of former times and persons; but yet set it down to thyself, as
well to create good precedents, as to follow them. Reduce things to the
first institution, and observe wherein, and how, they have degenerate;
but yet ask counsel of both times; of the ancient time, what is best;
and of the latter time, what is fittest. Seek to make thy course
regular, that men may know beforehand, what they may expect; but be
not too positive and peremptory; and express thyself well, when thou
digressest from thy rule. Preserve the right of thy place; but stir not
questions of jurisdiction; and rather assume thy right, in silence and
de facto, than voice it with claims, and challenges. Preserve likewise
the rights of inferior places; and think it more honor, to direct in
chief, than to be busy in all. Embrace and invite helps, and advices,
touching the execution of thy place; and do not drive away such, as
bring thee information, as meddlers; but accept of them in good part.
The vices of authority are chiefly four: delays, corruption, roughness,
and facility. For delays: give easy access; keep times appointed; go
through with that which is in hand, and interlace not business, but
of necessity. For corruption: do not only bind thine own hands, or thy
servants' hands, from taking, but bind the hands of suitors also, from
offering. For integrity used doth the one; but integrity professed, and
with a manifest detestation of bribery, doth the other. And avoid not
only the fault, but the suspicion. Whosoever is found variable,
and changeth manifestly without manifest cause, giveth suspicion of
corruption. Therefore always, when thou changest thine opinion or
course, profess it plainly, and declare it, together with the reasons
that move thee to change; and do not think to steal it. A servant or
a favorite, if he be inward, and no other apparent cause of esteem, is
commonly thought, but a by-way to close corruption. For roughness: it
is a needless cause of discontent: severity breedeth fear, but roughness
breedeth hate. Even reproofs from authority, ought to be grave, and not
taunting. As for facility: it is worse than bribery. For bribes come but
now and then; but if importunity, or idle respects, lead a man, he shall
never be without. As Solomon saith, To respect persons is not good; for
such a man will transgress for a piece of bread. It is most true, that
was anciently spoken, A place showeth the man. And it showeth some to
the better, and some to the worse. Omnium consensu capax imperii, nisi
imperasset, saith Tacitus of Galba; but of Vespasian he saith, Solus
imperantium, Vespasianus mutatus in melius; though the one was meant of
sufficiency, the other of manners, and affection. It is an assured sign
of a worthy and generous spirit, whom honor amends. For honor is, or
should be, the place of virtue; and as in nature, things move violently
to their place, and calmly in their place, so virtue in ambition is
violent, in authority settled and calm. All rising to great place is
by a winding star; and if there be factions, it is good to side a man's
self, whilst he is in the rising, and to balance himself when he is
placed. Use the memory of thy predecessor, fairly and tenderly; for if
thou dost not, it is a debt will sure be paid when thou art gone. If
thou have colleagues, respect them, and rather call them, when they
look not for it, than exclude them, when they have reason to look to
be called. Be not too sensible, or too remembering, of thy place in
conversation, and private answers to suitors; but let it rather be said,
When he sits in place, he is another man.




Of Boldness


IT IS a trivial grammar-school text, but yet worthy a wise man's
consideration. Question was asked of Demosthenes, what was the chief
part of an orator? he answered, action; what next? action; what next
again? action. He said it, that knew it best, and had, by nature,
himself no advantage in that he commended. A strange thing, that that
part of an orator, which is but superficial, and rather the virtue of
a player, should be placed so high, above those other noble parts, of
invention, elocution, and the rest; nay, almost alone, as if it were
all in all. But the reason is plain. There is in human nature generally,
more of the fool than of the wise; and therefore those faculties,
by which the foolish part of men's minds is taken, are most potent.
Wonderful like is the case of boldness in civil business: what first?
boldness; what second and third? boldness. And yet boldness is a child
of ignorance and baseness, far inferior to other parts. But nevertheless
it doth fascinate, and bind hand and foot, those that are either shallow
in judgment, or weak in courage, which are the greatest part; yea and
prevaileth with wise men at weak times. Therefore we see it hath done
wonders, in popular states; but with senates, and princes less; and
more ever upon the first entrance of bold persons into action, than soon
after; for boldness is an ill keeper of promise. Surely, as there are
mountebanks for the natural body, so are there mountebanks for the
politic body; men that undertake great cures, and perhaps have been
lucky, in two or three experiments, but want the grounds of science, and
therefore cannot hold out. Nay, you shall see a bold fellow many times
do Mahomet's miracle. Mahomet made the people believe that he would call
an hill to him, and from the top of it offer up his prayers, for the
observers of his law. The people assembled; Mahomet called the hill
to come to him, again and again; and when the hill stood still, he was
never a whit abashed, but said, If the hill will not come to Mahomet,
Mahomet will go to the hill. So these men, when they have promised great
matters, and failed most shamefully, yet (if they have the perfection
of boldness) they will but slight it over, and make a turn, and no more
ado. Certainly to men of great judgment, bold persons are a sport
to behold; nay, and to the vulgar also, boldness has somewhat of the
ridiculous. For if absurdity be the subject of laughter, doubt you not
but great boldness is seldom without some absurdity. Especially it is
a sport to see, when a bold fellow is out of countenance; for that puts
his face into a most shrunken, and wooden posture; as needs it must; for
in bashfulness, the spirits do a little go and come; but with bold men,
upon like occasion, they stand at a stay; like a stale at chess, where
it is no mate, but yet the game cannot stir. But this last were fitter
for a satire than for a serious observation. This is well to be
weighed; that boldness is ever blind; for it seeth not danger, and
inconveniences. Therefore it is ill in counsel, good in execution; so
that the right use of bold persons is, that they never command in chief,
but be seconds, and under the direction of others. For in counsel, it is
good to see dangers; and in execution, not to see them, except they be
very great.




Of Goodness and Goodness Of Nature


I TAKE goodness in this sense, the affecting of the weal of men, which
is that the Grecians call philanthropia; and the word humanity (as it
is used) is a little too light to express it. Goodness I call the
habit, and goodness of nature, the inclination. This of all virtues,
and dignities of the mind, is the greatest; being the character of the
Deity: and without it, man is a busy, mischievous, wretched thing;
no better than a kind of vermin. Goodness answers to the theological
virtue, charity, and admits no excess, but error. The desire of power
in excess, caused the angels to fall; the desire of knowledge in excess,
caused man to fall: but in charity there is no excess; neither can
angel, nor man, come in danger by it. The inclination to goodness, is
imprinted deeply in the nature of man; insomuch, that if it issue not
towards men, it will take unto other living creatures; as it is seen in
the Turks, a cruel people, who nevertheless are kind to beasts, and give
alms, to dogs and birds; insomuch, as Busbechius reporteth, a Christian
boy, in Constantinople, had like to have been stoned, for gagging in
a waggishness a long-billed fowl. Errors indeed in this virtue of
goodness, or charity, may be committed. The Italians have an ungracious
proverb, Tanto buon che val niente: so good, that he is good for
nothing. And one of the doctors of Italy, Nicholas Machiavel, had the
confidence to put in writing, almost in plain terms, That the Christian
faith, had given up good men, in prey to those that are tyrannical and
unjust. Which he spake, because indeed there was never law, or sect, or
opinion, did so much magnify goodness, as the Christian religion doth.
Therefore, to avoid the scandal and the danger both, it is good, to take
knowledge of the errors of an habit so excellent. Seek the good of other
men, but be not in bondage to their faces or fancies; for that is but
facility, or softness; which taketh an honest mind prisoner. Neither
give thou AEsop's cock a gem, who would be better pleased, and happier,
if he had had a barley-corn. The example of God, teacheth the lesson
truly: He sendeth his rain, and maketh his sun to shine, upon the just
and unjust; but he doth not rain wealth, nor shine honor and virtues,
upon men equally. Common benefits, are to be communicate with all;
but peculiar benefits, with choice. And beware how in making the
portraiture, thou breakest the pattern. For divinity, maketh the love of
ourselves the pattern; the love of our neighbors, but the portraiture.
Sell all thou hast, and give it to the poor, and follow me: but, sell
not all thou hast, except thou come and follow me; that is, except thou
have a vocation, wherein thou mayest do as much good, with little means
as with great; for otherwise, in feeding the streams, thou driest the
fountain. Neither is there only a habit of goodness, directed by right
reason; but there is in some men, even in nature, a disposition towards
it; as on the other side, there is a natural malignity. For there be,
that in their nature do not affect the good of others. The lighter sort
of malignity, turneth but to a crassness, or frowardness, or aptness to
oppose, or difficulties, or the like; but the deeper sort, to envy and
mere mischief. Such men, in other men's calamities, are, as it were, in
season, and are ever on the loading part: not so good as the dogs, that
licked Lazarus' sores; but like flies, that are still buzzing upon any
thing that is raw; misanthropi, that make it their practice, to bring
men to the bough, and yet never a tree for the purpose in their gardens,
as Timon had. Such dispositions, are the very errors of human nature;
and yet they are the fittest timber, to make great politics of; like to
knee timber, that is good for ships, that are ordained to be tossed; but
not for building houses, that shall stand firm. The parts and signs of
goodness, are many. If a man be gracious and courteous to strangers, it
shows he is a citizen of the world, and that his heart is no island,
cut off from other lands, but a continent, that joins to them. If he be
compassionate towards the afflictions of others, it shows that his heart
is like the noble tree, that is wounded itself, when it gives the balm.
If he easily pardons, and remits offences, it shows that his mind is
planted above injuries; so that he cannot be shot. If he be thankful
for small benefits, it shows that he weighs men's minds, and not their
trash. But above all, if he have St. Paul's perfection, that he would
wish to be anathema from Christ, for the salvation of his brethren,
it shows much of a divine nature, and a kind of conformity with Christ
himself.




Of Nobility


WE WILL speak of nobility, first as a portion of an estate, then as a
condition of particular persons. A monarchy, where there is no nobility
at all, is ever a pure and absolute tyranny; as that of the Turks.
For nobility attempers sovereignty, and draws the eyes of the people,
somewhat aside from the line royal. But for democracies, they need it
not; and they are commonly more quiet, and less subject to sedition,
than where there are stirps of nobles. For men's eyes are upon the
business, and not upon the persons; or if upon the persons, it is for
the business' sake, as fittest, and not for flags and pedigree. We see
the Switzers last well, notwithstanding their diversity of religion,
and of cantons. For utility is their bond, and not respects. The united
provinces of the Low Countries, in their government, excel; for where
there is an equality, the consultations are more indifferent, and the
payments and tributes, more cheerful. A great and potent nobility,
addeth majesty to a monarch, but diminisheth power; and putteth life
and spirit into the people, but presseth their fortune. It is well,
when nobles are not too great for sovereignty nor for justice; and yet
maintained in that height, as the insolency of inferiors may be broken
upon them, before it come on too fast upon the majesty of kings. A
numerous nobility causeth poverty, and inconvenience in a state; for it
is a surcharge of expense; and besides, it being of necessity, that many
of the nobility fall, in time, to be weak in fortune, it maketh a kind
of disproportion, between honor and means.

As for nobility in particular persons; it is a reverend thing, to see an
ancient castle or building, not in decay; or to see a fair timber tree,
sound and perfect. How much more, to behold an ancient noble family,
which has stood against the waves and weathers of time! For new nobility
is but the act of power, but ancient nobility is the act of time. Those
that are first raised to nobility, are commonly more virtuous, but less
innocent, than their descendants; for there is rarely any rising, but
by a commixture of good and evil arts. But it is reason, the memory
of their virtues remain to their posterity, and their faults die with
themselves. Nobility of birth commonly abateth industry; and he that is
not industrious, envieth him that is. Besides, noble persons cannot
go much higher; and he that standeth at a stay, when others rise, can
hardly avoid motions of envy. On the other side, nobility extinguisheth
the passive envy from others, towards them; because they are in
possession of honor. Certainly, kings that have able men of their
nobility, shall find ease in employing them, and a better slide into
their business; for people naturally bend to them, as born in some sort
to command.




Of Seditions And Troubles


SHEPHERDS of people, had need know the calendars of tempests in state;
which are commonly greatest, when things grow to equality; as natural
tempests are greatest about the Equinoctia. And as there are certain
hollow blasts of wind, and secret swellings of seas before a tempest, so
are there in states:


     --Ille etiam caecos instare tumultus
     Saepe monet, fraudesque et operta tunescere bella.


Libels and licentious discourses against the state, when they are
frequent and open; and in like sort, false news often running up and
down, to the disadvantage of the state, and hastily embraced; are
amongst the signs of troubles. Virgil, giving the pedigree of Fame,
saith, she was sister to the Giants:


Illam Terra parens, irra irritata deorum, Extremam (ut perhibent) Coeo
Enceladoque sororem Progenuit.

As if fames were the relics of seditions past; but they are no less,
indeed, the preludes of seditions to come. Howsoever he noteth it right,
that seditious tumults, and seditious fames, differ no more but as
brother and sister, masculine and feminine; especially if it come to
that, that the best actions of a state, and the most plausible, and
which ought to give greatest contentment, are taken in ill sense, and
traduced: for that shows the envy great, as Tacitus saith; conflata
magna invidia, seu bene seu male gesta premunt. Neither doth it follow,
that because these fames are a sign of troubles, that the suppressing
of them with too much severity, should be a remedy of troubles. For the
despising of them, many times checks them best; and the going about
to stop them, doth but make a wonder long-lived. Also that kind of
obedience, which Tacitus speaketh of, is to be held suspected: Erant
in officio, sed tamen qui mallent mandata imperantium interpretari quam
exequi; disputing, excusing, cavilling upon mandates and directions, is
a kind of shaking off the yoke, and assay of disobedience; especially if
in those disputings, they which are for the direction, speak fearfully
and tenderly, and those that are against it, audaciously.

Also, as Machiavel noteth well, when princes, that ought to be common
parents, make themselves as a party, and lean to a side, it is as a
boat, that is overthrown by uneven weight on the one side; as was well
seen, in the time of Henry the Third of France; for first, himself
entered league for the extirpation of the Protestants; and presently
after, the same league was turned upon himself. For when the authority
of princes, is made but an accessory to a cause, and that there be other
bands, that tie faster than the band of sovereignty, kings begin to be
put almost out of possession.

Also, when discords, and quarrels, and factions are carried openly and
audaciously, it is a sign the reverence of government is lost. For the
motions of the greatest persons in a government, ought to be as the
motions of the planets under primum mobile; according to the old
opinion: which is, that every of them, is carried swiftly by the highest
motion, and softly in their own motion. And therefore, when great
ones in their own particular motion, move violently, and, as Tacitus
expresseth it well, liberius quam ut imperantium meminissent; it is a
sign the orbs are out of frame. For reverence is that, wherewith princes
are girt from God; who threateneth the dissolving thereof; Solvam
cingula regum.

So when any of the four pillars of government, are mainly shaken, or
weakened (which are religion, justice, counsel, and treasure), men
had need to pray for fair weather. But let us pass from this part of
predictions (concerning which, nevertheless, more light may be taken
from that which followeth); and let us speak first, of the materials of
seditions; then of the motives of them; and thirdly of the remedies.

Concerning the materials of seditions. It is a thing well to be
considered; for the surest way to prevent seditions (if the times
do bear it) is to take away the matter of them. For if there be fuel
prepared, it is hard to tell, whence the spark shall come, that shall
set it on fire. The matter of seditions is of two kinds: much poverty,
and much discontentment. It is certain, so many overthrown estates, so
many votes for troubles. Lucan noteth well the state of Rome before the
Civil War,


     Hinc usura vorax, rapidumque in tempore foenus,
     Hinc concussa fides, et multis utile bellum.


This same multis utile bellum, is an assured and infallible sign, of a
state disposed to seditions and troubles. And if this poverty and broken
estate in the better sort, be joined with a want and necessity in the
mean people, the danger is imminent and great. For the rebellions of the
belly are the worst. As for discontentments, they are, in the politic
body, like to humors in the natural, which are apt to gather a
preternatural heat, and to inflame. And let no prince measure the
danger of them by this, whether they be just or unjust: for that were
to imagine people, to be too reasonable; who do often spurn at their
own good: nor yet by this, whether the griefs whereupon they rise, be
in fact great or small: for they are the most dangerous discontentments,
where the fear is greater than the feeling. Dolendi modus, timendi non
item. Besides, in great oppressions, the same things that provoke the
patience, do withal mate the courage; but in fears it is not so. Neither
let any prince, or state, be secure concerning discontentments, because
they have been often, or have been long, and yet no peril hath ensued:
for as it is true, that every vapor or fume doth not turn into a storm;
so it is nevertheless true, that storms, though they blow over divers
times, yet may fall at last; and, as the Spanish proverb noteth well,
The cord breaketh at the last by the weakest pull.

The causes and motives of seditions are, innovation in religion;
taxes; alteration of laws and customs; breaking of privileges; general
oppression; advancement of unworthy persons; strangers; dearths;
disbanded soldiers; factions grown desperate; and what soever, in
offending people, joineth and knitteth them in a common cause.

For the remedies; there may be some general preservatives, whereof
we will speak: as for the just cure, it must answer to the particular
disease; and so be left to counsel, rather than rule.

The first remedy or prevention is to remove, by all means possible, that
material cause of sedition whereof we spake; which is, want and poverty
in the estate. To which purpose serveth the opening, and well-balancing
of trade; the cherishing of manufactures; the banishing of idleness; the
repressing of waste, and excess, by sumptuary laws; the improvement and
husbanding of the soil; the regulating of prices of things vendible; the
moderating of taxes and tributes; and the like. Generally, it is to be
foreseen that the population of a kingdom (especially if it be not
mown down by wars) do not exceed the stock of the kingdom, which should
maintain them. Neither is the population to be reckoned only by number;
for a smaller number, that spend more and earn less, do wear out an
estate sooner, than a greater number that live lower, and gather more.
Therefore the multiplying of nobility, and other degrees of quality, in
an over proportion to the common people, doth speedily bring a state
to necessity; and so doth likewise an overgrown clergy; for they bring
nothing to the stock; and in like manner, when more are bred scholars,
than preferments can take off.

It is likewise to be remembered, that forasmuch as the increase of any
estate must be upon the foreigner (for whatsoever is somewhere gotten,
is somewhere lost), there be but three things, which one nation selleth
unto another; the commodity as nature yieldeth it; the manufacture; and
the vecture, or carriage. So that if these three wheels go, wealth
will flow as in a spring tide. And it cometh many times to pass, that
materiam superabit opus; that the work and carriage is more worth than
the material, and enricheth a state more; as is notably seen in the
Low-Countrymen, who have the best mines above ground, in the world.

Above all things, good policy is to be used, that the treasure and
moneys, in a state, be not gathered into few hands. For otherwise a
state may have a great stock, and yet starve. And money is like muck,
not good except it be spread. This is done, chiefly by suppressing,
or at least keeping a strait hand, upon the devouring trades of usury,
ingrossing great pasturages, and the like.

For removing discontentments, or at least the danger of them; there is
in every state (as we know) two portions of subjects; the noblesse
and the commonalty. When one of these is discontent, the danger is not
great; for common people are of slow motion, if they be not excited by
the greater sort; and the greater sort are of small strength, except the
multitude be apt, and ready to move of themselves. Then is the danger,
when the greater sort, do but wait for the troubling of the waters
amongst the meaner, that then they may declare themselves. The poets
feign, that the rest of the gods would have bound Jupiter; which he
hearing of, by the counsel of Pallas, sent for Briareus, with his
hundred hands, to come in to his aid. An emblem, no doubt, to show how
safe it is for monarchs, to make sure of the good will of common people.
To give moderate liberty for griefs and discontentments to evaporate
(so it be without too great insolency or bravery), is a safe way. For
he that turneth the humors back, and maketh the wound bleed inwards,
endangereth malign ulcers, and pernicious imposthumations.

The part of Epimetheus mought well become Prometheus, in the case of
discontentments: for there is not a better provision against them.
Epimetheus, when griefs and evils flew abroad, at last shut the lid,
and kept hope in the bottom of the vessel. Certainly, the politic and
artificial nourishing, and entertaining of hopes, and carrying men
from hopes to hopes, is one of the best antidotes against the poison
of discontentments. And it is a certain sign of a wise government and
proceeding, when it can hold men's hearts by hopes, when it cannot by
satisfaction; and when it can handle things, in such manner, as no evil
shall appear so peremptory, but that it hath some outlet of hope; which
is the less hard to do, because both particular persons and factions,
are apt enough to flatter themselves, or at least to brave that, which
they believe not.

Also the foresight and prevention, that there be no likely or fit head,
whereunto discontented persons may resort, and under whom they may join,
is a known, but an excellent point of caution. I understand a fit head,
to be one that hath greatness and reputation; that hath confidence with
the discontented party, and upon whom they turn their eyes; and that is
thought discontented, in his own particular: which kind of persons, are
either to be won, and reconciled to the state, and that in a fast and
true manner; or to be fronted with some other, of the same party, that
may oppose them, and so divide the reputation. Generally, the dividing
and breaking, of all factions and combinations that are adverse to
the state, and setting them at distance, or at least distrust, amongst
themselves, is not one of the worst remedies. For it is a desperate
case, if those that hold with the proceeding of the state, be full
of discord and faction, and those that are against it, be entire and
united.

I have noted, that some witty and sharp speeches, which have fallen from
princes, have given fire to seditions. Caesar did himself infinite hurt
in that speech, Sylla nescivit literas, non potuit dictare; for it did
utterly cut off that hope, which men had entertained, that he would at
one time or other give over his dictatorship. Galba undid himself by
that speech, legi a se militem, non emi; for it put the soldiers out of
hope of the donative. Probus likewise, by that speech, Si vixero, non
opus erit amplius Romano imperio militibus; a speech of great despair
for the soldiers. And many the like. Surely princes had need, in tender
matters and ticklish times, to beware what they say; especially in these
short speeches, which fly abroad like darts, and are thought to be shot
out of their secret intentions. For as for large discourses, they are
flat things, and not so much noted.


Lastly, let princes, against all events, not be without some great
person, one or rather more, of military valor, near unto them, for the
repressing of seditions in their beginnings. For without that, there
useth to be more trepidation in court upon the first breaking out of
troubles, than were fit. And the state runneth the danger of that which
Tacitus saith; Atque is habitus animorum fuit, ut pessimum facinus
auderent pauci, plures vellent, omnes paterentur. But let such military
persons be assured, and well reputed of, rather than factious and
popular; holding also good correspondence with the other great men in
the state; or else the remedy, is worse than the disease.




Of Atheism


I HAD rather believe all the fables in the Legend, and the Talmud,
and the Alcoran, than that this universal frame is without a mind. And
therefore, God never wrought miracle, to convince atheism, because
his ordinary works convince it. It is true, that a little philosophy
inclineth man's mind to atheism; but depth in philosophy bringeth men's
minds about to religion. For while the mind of man looketh upon second
causes scattered, it may sometimes rest in them, and go no further; but
when it beholdeth the chain of them, confederate and linked together, it
must needs fly to Providence and Deity. Nay, even that school which is
most accused of atheism doth most demonstrate religion; that is, the
school of Leucippus and Democritus and Epicurus. For it is a thousand
times more credible, that four mutable elements, and one immutable fifth
essence, duly and eternally placed, need no God, than that an army of
infinite small portions, or seeds unplaced, should have produced this
order and beauty, without a divine marshal. The Scripture saith, The
fool hath said in his heart, there is no God; it is not said, The fool
hath thought in his heart; so as he rather saith it, by rote to himself,
as that he would have, than that he can thoroughly believe it, or be
persuaded of it. For none deny, there is a God, but those, for whom
it maketh that there were no God. It appeareth in nothing more, that
atheism is rather in the lip, than in the heart of man, than by this;
that atheists will ever be talking of that their opinion, as if they
fainted in it, within themselves, and would be glad to be strengthened,
by the consent of others. Nay more, you shall have atheists strive to
get disciples, as it fareth with other sects. And, which is most of all,
you shall have of them, that will suffer for atheism, and not recant;
whereas if they did truly think, that there were no such thing as God,
why should they trouble themselves? Epicurus is charged, that he did
but dissemble for his credit's sake, when he affirmed there were blessed
natures, but such as enjoyed themselves, without having respect to the
government of the world. Wherein they say he did temporize; though in
secret, he thought there was no God. But certainly he is traduced; for
his words are noble and divine: Non deos vulgi negare profanum; sed
vulgi opiniones diis applicare profanum. Plato could have said no more.
And although he had the confidence, to deny the administration, he had
not the power, to deny the nature. The Indians of the West, have names
for their particular gods, though they have no name for God: as if the
heathens should have had the names Jupiter, Apollo, Mars, etc., but not
the word Deus; which shows that even those barbarous people have the
notion, though they have not the latitude and extent of it. So that
against atheists, the very savages take part, with the very subtlest
philosophers. The contemplative atheist is rare: a Diagoras, a Bion, a
Lucian perhaps, and some others; and yet they seem to be more than they
are; for that all that impugn a received religion, or superstition, are
by the adverse part branded with the name of atheists. But the great
atheists, indeed are hypocrites; which are ever handling holy things,
but without feeling; so as they must needs be cauterized in the end. The
causes of atheism are: divisions in religion, if they be many; for
any one main division, addeth zeal to both sides; but many divisions
introduce atheism. Another is, scandal of priests; when it is come
to that which St. Bernard saith, non est jam dicere, ut populus sic
sacerdos; quia nec sic populus ut sacerdos. A third is, custom of
profane scoffing in holy matters; which doth, by little and little,
deface the reverence of religion. And lastly, learned times, specially
with peace and prosperity; for troubles and adversities do more bow
men's minds to religion. They that deny a God, destroy man's nobility;
for certainly man is of kin to the beasts, by his body; and, if he be
not of kin to God, by his spirit, he is a base and ignoble creature. It
destroys likewise magnanimity, and the raising of human nature; for take
an example of a dog, and mark what a generosity and courage he will put
on, when he finds himself maintained by a man; who to him is instead
of a God, or melior natura; which courage is manifestly such, as that
creature, without that confidence of a better nature than his own, could
never attain. So man, when he resteth and assureth himself, upon divine
protection and favor, gathered a force and faith, which human nature
in itself could not obtain. Therefore, as atheism is in all respects
hateful, so in this, that it depriveth human nature of the means to
exalt itself, above human frailty. As it is in particular persons, so it
is in nations. Never was there such a state for magnanimity as Rome.
Of this state hear what Cicero saith: Quam volumus licet, patres
conscripti, nos amemus, tamen nec numero Hispanos, nec robore Gallos,
nec calliditate Poenos, nec artibus Graecos, nec denique hoc ipso hujus
gentis et terrae domestico nativoque sensu Italos ipsos et Latinos; sed
pietate, ac religione, atque hac una sapientia, quod deorum immortalium
numine omnia regi gubernarique perspeximus, omnes gentes nationesque
superavimus.




Of Superstition


IT WERE better to have no opinion of God at all, than such an opinion,
as is unworthy of him. For the one is unbelief, the other is contumely;
and certainly superstition is the reproach of the Deity. Plutarch saith
well to that purpose: Surely (saith he) I had rather a great deal, men
should say, there was no such man at all, as Plutarch, than that they
should say, that there was one Plutarch, that would eat his children
as soon as they were born; as the poets speak of Saturn. And as the
contumely is greater towards God, so the danger is greater towards men.
Atheism leaves a man to sense, to philosophy, to natural piety, to
laws, to reputation; all which may be guides to an outward moral virtue,
though religion were not; but superstition dismounts all these, and
erecteth an absolute monarchy, in the minds of men. Therefore atheism did
never perturb states; for it makes men wary of themselves, as looking
no further: and we see the times inclined to atheism (as the time
of Augustus Caesar) were civil times. But superstition hath been the
confusion of many states, and bringeth in a new primum mobile, that
ravisheth all the spheres of government. The master of superstition,
is the people; and in all superstition, wise men follow fools; and
arguments are fitted to practice, in a reversed order. It was gravely
said by some of the prelates in the Council of Trent, where the
doctrine of the Schoolmen bare great sway, that the Schoolmen were like
astronomers, which did feign eccentrics and epicycles, and such engines
of orbs, to save the phenomena; though they knew there were no such
things; and in like manner, that the Schoolmen had framed a number of
subtle and intricate axioms, and theorems, to save the practice of the
church. The causes of superstition are: pleasing and sensual rites
and ceremonies; excess of outward and pharisaical holiness; overgreat
reverence of traditions, which cannot but load the church; the
stratagems of prelates, for their own ambition and lucre; the favoring
too much of good intentions, which openeth the gate to conceits and
novelties; the taking an aim at divine matters, by human, which cannot
but breed mixture of imaginations: and, lastly, barbarous times,
especially joined with calamities and disasters. Superstition, without a
veil, is a deformed thing; for, as it addeth deformity to an ape, to be
so like a man, so the similitude of superstition to religion, makes it
the more deformed. And as wholesome meat corrupteth to little worms, so
good forms and orders corrupt, into a number of petty observances. There
is a superstition in avoiding superstition, when men think to do best,
if they go furthest from the superstition, formerly received; therefore
care would be had that (as it fareth in ill purgings) the good be not
taken away with the bad; which commonly is done, when the people is the
reformer.




Of Travel


TRAVEL, in the younger sort, is a part of education, in the elder, a
part of experience. He that travelleth into a country, before he hath
some entrance into the language, goeth to school, and not to travel.
That young men travel under some tutor, or grave servant, I allow well;
so that he be such a one that hath the language, and hath been in the
country before; whereby he may be able to tell them what things are
worthy to be seen, in the country where they go; what acquaintances
they are to seek; what exercises, or discipline, the place yieldeth. For
else, young men shall go hooded, and look abroad little. It is a strange
thing, that in sea voyages, where there is nothing to be seen, but sky
and sea, men should make diaries; but in land-travel, wherein so much is
to be observed, for the most part they omit it; as if chance were fitter
to be registered, than observation. Let diaries, therefore, be brought
in use. The things to be seen and observed are: the courts of princes,
especially when they give audience to ambassadors; the courts of
justice, while they sit and hear causes; and so of consistories
ecclesiastic; the churches and monasteries, with the monuments which are
therein extant; the walls and fortifications of cities, and towns, and
so the heavens and harbors; antiquities and ruins; libraries; colleges,
disputations, and lectures, where any are; shipping and navies;
houses and gardens of state and pleasure, near great cities; armories;
arsenals; magazines; exchanges; burses; warehouses; exercises of
horsemanship, fencing, training of soldiers, and the like; comedies,
such whereunto the better sort of persons do resort; treasuries of
jewels and robes; cabinets and rarities; and, to conclude, whatsoever is
memorable, in the places where they go. After all which, the tutors,
or servants, ought to make diligent inquiry. As for triumphs, masks,
feasts, weddings, funerals, capital executions, and such shows, men need
not to be put in mind of them; yet are they not to be neglected. If you
will have a young man to put his travel into a little room, and in short
time to gather much, this you must do. First, as was said, he must have
some entrance into the language before he goeth. Then he must have such
a servant, or tutor, as knoweth the country, as was likewise said. Let
him carry with him also, some card or book, describing the country where
he travelleth; which will be a good key to his inquiry. Let him keep
also a diary. Let him not stay long, in one city or town; more or less
as the place deserveth, but not long; nay, when he stayeth in one city
or town, let him change his lodging from one end and part of the town,
to another; which is a great adamant of acquaintance. Let him sequester
himself, from the company of his countrymen, and diet in such places,
where there is good company of the nation where he travelleth. Let him,
upon his removes from one place to another, procure recommendation to
some person of quality, residing in the place whither he removeth; that
he may use his favor, in those things he desireth to see or know. Thus
he may abridge his travel, with much profit. As for the acquaintance,
which is to be sought in travel; that which is most of all profitable,
is acquaintance with the secretaries and employed men of ambassadors:
for so in travelling in one country, he shall suck the experience of
many. Let him also see, and visit, eminent persons in all kinds, which
are of great name abroad; that he may be able to tell, how the life
agreeth with the fame. For quarrels, they are with care and discretion
to be avoided. They are commonly for mistresses, healths, place, and
words. And let a man beware, how he keepeth company with choleric and
quarrelsome persons; for they will engage him into their own quarrels.
When a traveller returneth home, let him not leave the countries, where
he hath travelled, altogether behind him; but maintain a correspondence
by letters, with those of his acquaintance, which are of most worth.
And let his travel appear rather in his discourse, than his apparel or
gesture; and in his discourse, let him be rather advised in his answers,
than forward to tell stories; and let it appear that he doth not change
his country manners, for those of foreign parts; but only prick in some
flowers, of that he hath learned abroad, into the customs of his own
country.




Of Empire


IT IS a miserable state of mind, to have few things to desire, and many
things to fear; and yet that commonly is the case of kings; who, being
at the highest, want matter of desire, which makes their minds more
languishing; and have many representations of perils and shadows, which
makes their minds the less clear. And this is one reason also, of
that effect which the Scripture speaketh of, That the king's heart is
inscrutable. For multitude of jealousies, and lack of some predominant
desire, that should marshal and put in order all the rest, maketh
any man's heart, hard to find or sound. Hence it comes likewise, that
princes many times make themselves desires, and set their hearts upon
toys; sometimes upon a building; sometimes upon erecting of an order;
sometimes upon the advancing of a person; sometimes upon obtaining
excellency in some art, or feat of the hand; as Nero for playing on the
harp, Domitian for certainty of the hand with the arrow, Commodus for
playing at fence, Caracalla for driving chariots, and the like. This
seemeth incredible, unto those that know not the principle, that the
mind of man, is more cheered and refreshed by profiting in small things,
than by standing at a stay, in great. We see also that kings that have
been fortunate conquerors, in their first years, it being not possible
for them to go forward infinitely, but that they must have some
check, or arrest in their fortunes, turn in their latter years to be
superstitious, and melancholy; as did Alexander the Great; Diocletian;
and in our memory, Charles the Fifth; and others: for he that is used to
go forward, and findeth a stop, falleth out of his own favor, and is not
the thing he was.

To speak now of the true temper of empire, it is a thing rare and hard
to keep; for both temper, and distemper, consist of contraries. But it
is one thing, to mingle contraries, another to interchange them. The
answer of Apollonius to Vespasian, is full of excellent instruction.
Vespasian asked him, What was Nero's overthrow? He answered, Nero could
touch and tune the harp well; but in government, sometimes he used to
wind the pins too high, sometimes to let them down too low. And certain
it is, that nothing destroyeth authority so much, as the unequal and
untimely interchange of power pressed too far, and relaxed too much.

This is true, that the wisdom of all these latter times, in princes'
affairs, is rather fine deliveries, and shiftings of dangers and
mischiefs, when they are near, than solid and grounded courses to keep
them aloof. But this is but to try masteries with fortune. And let men
beware, how they neglect and suffer matter of trouble to be prepared;
for no man can forbid the spark, nor tell whence it may come. The
difficulties in princes' business are many and great; but the greatest
difficulty, is often in their own mind. For it is common with princes
(saith Tacitus) to will contradictories, Sunt plerumque regum voluntates
vehementes, et inter se contrariae. For it is the solecism of power, to
think to command the end, and yet not to endure the mean.

Kings have to deal with their neighbors, their wives, their children,
their prelates or clergy, their nobles, their second-nobles or
gentlemen, their merchants, their commons, and their men of war; and
from all these arise dangers, if care and circumspection be not used.

First for their neighbors; there can no general rule be given (for
occasions are so variable), save one, which ever holdeth, which is, that
princes do keep due sentinel, that none of their neighbors do ever grow
so (by increase of territory, by embracing of trade, by approaches, or
the like), as they become more able to annoy them, than they were.
And this is generally the work of standing counsels, to foresee and to
hinder it. During that triumvirate of kings, King Henry the Eighth
of England, Francis the First King of France, and Charles the Fifth
Emperor, there was such a watch kept, that none of the three could win a
palm of ground, but the other two would straightways balance it, either
by confederation, or, if need were, by a war; and would not in any wise
take up peace at interest. And the like was done by that league (which
Guicciardini saith was the security of Italy) made between Ferdinando
King of Naples, Lorenzius Medici, and Ludovicus Sforza, potentates, the
one of Florence, the other of Milan. Neither is the opinion of some of
the Schoolmen, to be received, that a war cannot justly be made, but
upon a precedent injury or provocation. For there is no question, but
a just fear of an imminent danger, though there be no blow given, is a
lawful cause of a war.

For their wives; there are cruel examples of them. Livia is infamed,
for the poisoning of her husband; Roxalana, Solyman's wife, was the
destruction of that renowned prince, Sultan Mustapha, and otherwise
troubled his house and succession; Edward the Second of England, his
queen, had the principal hand in the deposing and murder of her husband.
This kind of danger, is then to be feared chiefly, when the wives have
plots, for the raising of their own children; or else that they be
advoutresses.

For their children; the tragedies likewise of dangers from them, have
been many. And generally, the entering of fathers into suspicion of
their children, hath been ever unfortunate. The destruction of Mustapha
(that we named before) was so fatal to Solyman's line, as the succession
of the Turks, from Solyman until this day, is suspected to be untrue,
and of strange blood; for that Selymus the Second, was thought to
be suppositious. The destruction of Crispus, a young prince of rare
towardness, by Constantinus the Great, his father, was in like manner
fatal to his house; for both Constantinus and Constance, his sons, died
violent deaths; and Constantius, his other son, did little better; who
died indeed of sickness, but after that Julianus had taken arms against
him. The destruction of Demetrius, son to Philip the Second of Macedon,
turned upon the father, who died of repentance. And many like examples
there are; but few or none, where the fathers had good by such distrust;
except it were, where the sons were up in open arms against them; as
was Selymus the First against Bajazet; and the three sons of Henry the
Second, King of England.

For their prelates; when they are proud and great, there is also danger
from them; as it was in the times of Anselmus, and Thomas Becket,
Archbishops of Canterbury; who, with their croziers, did almost try it
with the king's sword; and yet they had to deal with stout and haughty
kings, William Rufus, Henry the First, and Henry the Second. The danger
is not from that state, but where it hath a dependence of foreign
authority; or where the churchmen come in and are elected, not by the
collation of the king, or particular patrons, but by the people.

For their nobles; to keep them at a distance, it is not amiss; but to
depress them, may make a king more absolute, but less safe; and less
able to perform, any thing that he desires. I have noted it, in
my History of King Henry the Seventh of England, who depressed his
nobility; whereupon it came to pass, that his times were full of
difficulties and troubles; for the nobility, though they continued loyal
unto him, yet did they not co-operate with him in his business. So that
in effect, he was fain to do all things himself.

For their second-nobles; there is not much danger from them, being a
body dispersed. They may sometimes discourse high, but that doth little
hurt; besides, they are a counterpoise to the higher nobility, that they
grow not too potent; and, lastly, being the most immediate in authority,
with the common people, they do best temper popular commotions.

For their merchants; they are vena porta; and if they flourish not,
a kingdom may have good limbs, but will have empty veins, and nourish
little. Taxes and imposts upon them, do seldom good to the king's
revenue; for that that he wins in the hundred, he leeseth in the shire;
the particular rates being increased, but the total bulk of trading,
rather decreased.

For their commons; there is little danger from them, except it be, where
they have great and potent heads; or where you meddle with the point of
religion, or their customs, or means of life.

For their men of war; it is a dangerous state, where they live and
remain in a body, and are used to donatives; whereof we see examples in
the janizaries, and pretorian bands of Rome; but trainings of men, and
arming them in several places, and under several commanders, and without
donatives, are things of defence, and no danger.

Princes are like to heavenly bodies, which cause good or evil times; and
which have much veneration, but no rest. All precepts concerning kings,
are in effect comprehended in those two remembrances: memento quod es
<DW25>; and memento quod es Deus, or vice Dei; the one bridleth their
power, and the other their will.




Of Counsel


THE greatest trust, between man and man, is the trust of giving counsel.
For in other confidences, men commit the parts of life; their lands,
their goods, their children, their credit, some particular affair; but
to such as they make their counsellors, they commit the whole: by how
much the more, they are obliged to all faith and integrity. The
wisest princes need not think it any diminution to their greatness, or
derogation to their sufficiency, to rely upon counsel. God himself is
not without, but hath made it one of the great names of his blessed Son:
The Counsellor. Solomon hath pronounced, that in counsel is stability.
Things will have their first, or second agitation: if they be not tossed
upon the arguments of counsel, they will be tossed upon the waves of
fortune; and be full of inconstancy, doing and undoing, like the reeling
of a drunken man. Solomon's son found the force of counsel, as his
father saw the necessity of it. For the beloved kingdom of God, was
first rent, and broken, by ill counsel; upon which counsel, there are
set for our instruction, the two marks whereby bad counsel is for ever
best discerned; that it was young counsel, for the person; and violent
counsel, for the matter.

The ancient times, do set forth in figure, both the incorporation, and
inseparable conjunction, of counsel with kings, and the wise and politic
use of counsel by kings: the one, in that they say Jupiter did marry
Metis, which signifieth counsel; whereby they intend that Sovereignty,
is married to Counsel: the other in that which followeth, which was
thus: They say, after Jupiter was married to Metis, she conceived by
him, and was with child, but Jupiter suffered her not to stay, till she
brought forth, but eat her up; whereby he became himself with child, and
was delivered of Pallas armed, out of his head. Which monstrous fable
containeth a secret of empire; how kings are to make use of their
counsel of state. That first, they ought to refer matters unto them,
which is the first begetting, or impregnation; but when they are
elaborate, moulded, and shaped in the womb of their counsel, and grow
ripe, and ready to be brought forth, that then they suffer not their
counsel to go through with the resolution and direction, as if it
depended on them; but take the matter back into their own hands, and
make it appear to the world, that the decrees and final directions
(which, because they come forth, with prudence and power, are resembled
to Pallas armed) proceeded from themselves; and not only from their
authority, but (the more to add reputation to themselves) from their
head and device.

Let us now speak of the inconveniences of counsel, and of the remedies.
The inconveniences that have been noted, in calling and using counsel,
are three. First, the revealing of affairs, whereby they become less
secret. Secondly, the weakening of the authority of princes, as if
they were less of themselves. Thirdly, the danger of being unfaithfully
counselled, and more for the good of them that counsel, than of him
that is counselled. For which inconveniences, the doctrine of Italy,
and practice of France, in some kings' times, hath introduced cabinet
counsels; a remedy worse than the disease.

As to secrecy; princes are not bound to communicate all matters, with
all counsellors; but may extract and select. Neither is it necessary,
that he that consulteth what he should do, should declare what he will
do. But let princes beware, that the unsecreting of their affairs, comes
not from themselves. And as for cabinet counsels, it may be their motto,
plenus rimarum sum: one futile person, that maketh it his glory to tell,
will do more hurt than many, that know it their duty to conceal. It is
true there be some affairs, which require extreme secrecy, which will
hardly go beyond one or two persons, besides the king: neither are those
counsels unprosperous; for, besides the secrecy, they commonly go on
constantly, in one spirit of direction, without distraction. But then
it must be a prudent king, such as is able to grind with a handmill; and
those inward counsellors had need also be wise men, and especially true
and trusty to the king's ends; as it was with King Henry the Seventh of
England, who, in his great business, imparted himself to none, except it
were to Morton and Fox.

For weakening of authority; the fable showeth the remedy. Nay, the
majesty of kings, is rather exalted than diminished, when they are in
the chair of counsel; neither was there ever prince, bereaved of his
dependences, by his counsel, except where there hath been, either an
over-greatness in one counsellor, or an over-strict combination in
divers; which are things soon found, and holpen.

For the last inconvenience, that men will counsel, with an eye to
themselves; certainly, non inveniet fidem super terram is meant, of the
nature of times, and not of all particular persons. There be, that are
in nature faithful, and sincere, and plain, and direct; not crafty
and involved; let princes, above all, draw to themselves such
natures. Besides, counsellors are not commonly so united, but that one
counsellor, keepeth sentinel over another; so that if any do counsel out
of faction or private ends, it commonly comes to the king's ear. But
the best remedy is, if princes know their counsellors, as well as their
counsellors know them:


Principis est virtus maxima nosse suos.

And on the other side, counsellors should not be too speculative into
their sovereign's person. The true composition of a counsellor, is
rather to be skilful in their master's business, than in his nature; for
then he is like to advise him, and not feed his humor. It is of singular
use to princes, if they take the opinions of their counsel, both
separately and together. For private opinion is more free; but opinion
before others, is more reverent. In private, men are more bold in their
own humors; and in consort, men are more obnoxious to others' humors;
therefore it is good to take both; and of the inferior sort, rather
in private, to preserve freedom; of the greater, rather in consort, to
preserve respect. It is in vain for princes, to take counsel concerning
matters, if they take no counsel likewise concerning persons; for all
matters are as dead images; and the life of the execution of affairs,
resteth in the good choice of persons. Neither is it enough, to consult
concerning persons secundum genera, as in an idea, or mathematical
description, what the kind and character of the person should be; for
the greatest errors are committed, and the most judgment is shown, in
the choice of individuals. It was truly said, optimi consiliarii mortui:
books will speak plain, when counsellors blanch. Therefore it is good to
be conversant in them, specially the books of such as themselves have
been actors upon the stage.

The counsels at this day, in most places, are but familiar meetings,
where matters are rather talked on, than debated. And they run too
swift, to the order, or act, of counsel. It were better that in causes
of weight, the matter were propounded one day, and not spoken to till
the next day; in nocte consilium. So was it done in the Commission
of Union, between England and Scotland; which was a grave and orderly
assembly. I commend set days for petitions; for both it gives the
suitors more certainty for their attendance, and it frees the meetings
for matters of estate, that they may hoc agere. In choice of committees;
for ripening business for the counsel, it is better to choose
indifferent persons, than to make an indifferency, by putting in those,
that are strong on both sides. I commend also standing commissions; as
for trade, for treasure, for war, for suits, for some provinces; for
where there be divers particular counsels, and but one counsel of
estate (as it is in Spain), they are, in effect, no more than standing
commissions: save that they have greater authority. Let such as are
to inform counsels, out of their particular professions (as lawyers,
seamen, mintmen, and the like) be first heard before committees; and
then, as occasion serves, before the counsel. And let them not come in
multitudes, or in a tribunitious manner; for that is to clamor counsels,
not to inform them. A long table and a square table, or seats about the
walls, seem things of form, but are things of substance; for at a long
table a few at the upper end, in effect, sway all the business; but in
the other form, there is more use of the counsellors' opinions, that sit
lower. A king, when he presides in counsel, let him beware how he opens
his own inclination too much, in that which he propoundeth; for else
counsellors will but take the wind of him, and instead of giving free
counsel, sing him a song of placebo.




Of Delays


FORTUNE is like the market; where many times if you can stay a little,
the price will fall. Again, it is sometimes like Sibylla's offer; which
at first, offereth the commodity at full, then consumeth part and part,
and still holdeth up the price. For occasion (as it is in the common
verse) turneth a bald noddle, after she hath presented her locks in
front, and no hold taken; or at least turneth the handle of the bottle,
first to be received, and after the belly, which is hard to clasp.
There is surely no greater wisdom, than well to time the beginnings, and
onsets, of things. Dangers are no more light, if they once seem light;
and more dangers have deceived men, than forced them. Nay, it were
better, to meet some dangers half way, though they come nothing near,
than to keep too long a watch upon their approaches; for if a man watch
too long, it is odds he will fall asleep. On the other side, to be
deceived with too long shadows (as some have been, when the moon was
low, and shone on their enemies' back), and so to shoot off before the
time; or to teach dangers to come on, by over early buckling towards
them; is another extreme. The ripeness, or unripeness, of the occasion
(as we said) must ever be well weighed; and generally it is good, to
commit the beginnings of all great actions to Argus, with his hundred
eyes, and the ends to Briareus, with his hundred hands; first to watch,
and then to speed. For the helmet of Pluto, which maketh the politic man
go invisible, is secrecy in the counsel, and celerity in the execution.
For when things are once come to the execution, there is no secrecy,
comparable to celerity; like the motion of a bullet in the air, which
flieth so swift, as it outruns the eye.




Of Cunning


WE TAKE cunning for a sinister or crooked wisdom. And certainly there is
a great difference, between a cunning man, and a wise man; not only in
point of honesty, but in point of ability. There be, that can pack the
cards, and yet cannot play well; so there are some that are good in
canvasses and factions, that are otherwise weak men. Again, it is one
thing to understand persons, and another thing to understand matters;
for many are perfect in men's humors, that are not greatly capable of
the real part of business; which is the constitution of one that hath
studied men, more than books. Such men are fitter for practice, than
for counsel; and they are good, but in their own alley: turn them to new
men, and they have lost their aim; so as the old rule, to know a fool
from a wise man, Mitte ambos nudos ad ignotos, et videbis, doth scarce
hold for them. And because these cunning men, are like haberdashers of
small wares, it is not amiss to set forth their shop.

It is a point of cunning, to wait upon him with whom you speak, with
your eye; as the Jesuits give it in precept: for there be many wise men,
that have secret hearts, and transparent countenances. Yet this would be
done with a demure abasing of your eye, sometimes, as the Jesuits also
do use.

Another is, that when you have anything to obtain, of present despatch,
you entertain and amuse the party, with whom you deal, with some other
discourse; that he be not too much awake to make objections. I knew a
counsellor and secretary, that never came to Queen Elizabeth of
England, with bills to sign, but he would always first put her into some
discourse of estate, that she mought the less mind the bills.

The like surprise may be made by moving things, when the party is in
haste, and cannot stay to consider advisedly of that is moved.

If a man would cross a business, that he doubts some other would
handsomely and effectually move, let him pretend to wish it well, and
move it himself in such sort as may foil it.

The breaking off, in the midst of that one was about to say, as if he
took himself up, breeds a greater appetite in him with whom you confer,
to know more.

And because it works better, when anything seemeth to be gotten from you
by question, than if you offer it of yourself, you may lay a bait for a
question, by showing another visage, and countenance, than you are wont;
to the end to give occasion, for the party to ask, what the matter is
of the change? As Nehemias did; And I had not before that time, been sad
before the king.

In things that are tender and unpleasing, it is good to break the ice,
by some whose words are of less weight, and to reserve the more weighty
voice, to come in as by chance, so that he may be asked the question
upon the other's speech: as Narcissus did, relating to Claudius the
marriage of Messalina and Silius.

In things that a man would not be seen in himself, it is a point of
cunning, to borrow the name of the world; as to say, The world says, or
There is a speech abroad.

I knew one that, when he wrote a letter, he would put that, which was
most material, in the postscript, as if it had been a by-matter.

I knew another that, when he came to have speech, he would pass over
that, that he intended most; and go forth, and come back again, and
speak of it as of a thing, that he had almost forgot.

Some procure themselves, to be surprised, at such times as it is like
the party that they work upon, will suddenly come upon them; and to be
found with a letter in their hand, or doing somewhat which they are not
accustomed; to the end, they may be apposed of those things, which of
themselves they are desirous to utter.

It is a point of cunning, to let fall those words in a man's own name,
which he would have another man learn, and use, and thereupon take
advantage. I knew two, that were competitors for the secretary's place
in Queen Elizabeth's time, and yet kept good quarter between themselves;
and would confer, one with another, upon the business; and the one of
them said, That to be a secretary, in the declination of a monarchy,
was a ticklish thing, and that he did not affect it: the other straight
caught up those words, and discoursed with divers of his friends, that
he had no reason to desire to be secretary, in the declination of a
monarchy. The first man took hold of it, and found means it was told the
Queen; who, hearing of a declination of a monarchy, took it so ill, as
she would never after hear of the other's suit.

There is a cunning, which we in England call, the turning of the cat in
the pan; which is, when that which a man says to another, he lays it as
if another had said it to him. And to say truth, it is not easy, when
such a matter passed between two, to make it appear from which of them
it first moved and began.

It is a way that some men have, to glance and dart at others, by
justifying themselves by negatives; as to say, This I do not; as
Tigellinus did towards Burrhus, Se non diversas spes, sed incolumitatem
imperatoris simpliciter spectare.

Some have in readiness so many tales and stories, as there is nothing
they would insinuate, but they can wrap it into a tale; which serveth
both to keep themselves more in guard, and to make others carry it with
more pleasure. It is a good point of cunning, for a man to shape the
answer he would have, in his own words and propositions; for it makes
the other party stick the less.

It is strange how long some men will lie in wait to speak somewhat they
desire to say; and how far about they will fetch; and how many other
matters they will beat over, to come near it. It is a thing of great
patience, but yet of much use.

A sudden, bold, and unexpected question doth many times surprise a man,
and lay him open. Like to him that, having changed his name, and walking
in Paul's, another suddenly came behind him, and called him by his true
name, whereat straightways he looked back.

But these small wares, and petty points, of cunning, are infinite; and
it were a good deed to make a list of them; for that nothing doth more
hurt in a state, than that cunning men pass for wise.

But certainly some there are that know the resorts and falls of
business, that cannot sink into the main of it; like a house that hath
convenient stairs and entries, but never a fair room. Therefore, you
shall see them find out pretty looses in the conclusion, but are no ways
able to examine or debate matters. And yet commonly they take advantage
of their inability, and would be thought wits of direction. Some build
rather upon the abusing of others, and (as we now say) putting tricks
upon them, than upon soundness of their own proceedings. But Solomon
saith, Prudens advertit ad gressus suos; stultus divertit ad dolos.




Of Wisdom For A Man's Self


AN ANT is a wise creature for itself, but it is a shrewd thing, in
an orchard or garden. And certainly, men that are great lovers of
themselves, waste the public. Divide with reason; between self-love and
society; and be so true to thyself, as thou be not false to others;
specially to thy king and country. It is a poor centre of a man's
actions, himself. It is right earth. For that only stands fast upon his
own centre; whereas all things, that have affinity with the heavens,
move upon the centre of another, which they benefit. The referring of
all to a man's self, is more tolerable in a sovereign prince; because
themselves are not only themselves, but their good and evil is at the
peril of the public fortune. But it is a desperate evil, in a servant to
a prince, or a citizen in a republic. For whatsoever affairs pass such a
man's hands, he crooketh them to his own ends; which must needs be often
eccentric to the ends of his master, or state. Therefore, let princes,
or states, choose such servants, as have not this mark; except they mean
their service should be made but the accessory. That which maketh
the effect more pernicious, is that all proportion is lost. It were
disproportion enough, for the servant's good to be preferred before the
master's; but yet it is a greater extreme, when a little good of the
servant, shall carry things against a great good of the master's. And
yet that is the case of bad officers, treasurers, ambassadors, generals,
and other false and corrupt servants; which set a bias upon their bowl,
of their own petty ends and envies, to the overthrow of their master's
great and important affairs. And for the most part, the good such
servants receive, is after the model of their own fortune; but the hurt
they sell for that good, is after the model of their master's fortune.
And certainly it is the nature of extreme self-lovers, as they will set
an house on fire, and it were but to roast their eggs; and yet these men
many times hold credit with their masters, because their study is but
to please them, and profit themselves; and for either respect, they will
abandon the good of their affairs.

Wisdom for a man's self is, in many branches thereof, a depraved thing.
It is the wisdom of rats, that will be sure to leave a house, somewhat
before it fall. It is the wisdom of the fox, that thrusts out
the badger, who digged and made room for him. It is the wisdom of
crocodiles, that shed tears when they would devour. But that which is
specially to be noted is, that those which (as Cicero says of Pompey)
are sui amantes, sine rivali, are many times unfortunate. And whereas
they have, all their times, sacrificed to themselves, they become in the
end, themselves sacrifices to the inconstancy of fortune, whose wings
they thought, by their self-wisdom, to have pinioned.




Of Innovations


AS THE births of living creatures, at first are ill-shapen, so are all
innovations, which are the births of time. Yet notwithstanding, as those
that first bring honor into their family, are commonly more worthy than
most that succeed, so the first precedent (if it be good) is seldom
attained by imitation. For ill, to man's nature, as it stands perverted,
hath a natural motion, strongest in continuance; but good, as a forced
motion, strongest at first. Surely every medicine is an innovation; and
he that will not apply new remedies, must expect new evils; for time is
the greatest innovator; and if time of course alter things to the worse,
and wisdom and counsel shall not alter them to the better, what shall
be the end? It is true, that what is settled by custom, though it be
not good, yet at least it is fit; and those things which have long gone
together, are, as it were, confederate within themselves; whereas new
things piece not so well; but though they help by their utility, yet
they trouble by their inconformity. Besides, they are like strangers;
more admired, and less favored. All this is true, if time stood still;
which contrariwise moveth so round, that a froward retention of custom,
is as turbulent a thing as an innovation; and they that reverence too
much old times, are but a scorn to the new. It were good, therefore,
that men in their innovations would follow the example of time itself;
which indeed innovateth greatly, but quietly, by degrees scarce to be
perceived. For otherwise, whatsoever is new is unlooked for; and ever
it mends some, and pairs others; and he that is holpen, takes it for
a fortune, and thanks the time; and he that is hurt, for a wrong, and
imputeth it to the author. It is good also, not to try experiments in
states, except the necessity be urgent, or the utility evident; and well
to beware, that it be the reformation, that draweth on the change, and
not the desire of change, that pretendeth the reformation. And lastly,
that the novelty, though it be not rejected, yet be held for a suspect;
and, as the Scripture saith, that we make a stand upon the ancient way,
and then look about us, and discover what is the straight and right way,
and so to walk in it.




Of Dispatch


AFFECTED dispatch is one of the most dangerous things to business that
can be. It is like that, which the physicians call predigestion, or
hasty digestion; which is sure to fill the body full of crudities, and
secret seeds of diseases. Therefore measure not dispatch, by the times
of sitting, but by the advancement of the business. And as in races
it is not the large stride or high lift that makes the speed; so in
business, the keeping close to the matter, and not taking of it too much
at once, procureth dispatch. It is the care of some, only to come off
speedily for the time; or to contrive some false periods of business,
because they may seem men of dispatch. But it is one thing, to
abbreviate by contracting, another by cutting off. And business so
handled, at several sittings or meetings, goeth commonly backward and
forward in an unsteady manner. I knew a wise man that had it for a
byword, when he saw men hasten to a conclusion, Stay a little, that we
may make an end the sooner.

On the other side, true dispatch is a rich thing. For time is the
measure of business, as money is of wares; and business is bought at
a dear hand, where there is small dispatch. The Spartans and Spaniards
have been noted to be of small dispatch; Mi venga la muerte de Spagna;
Let my death come from Spain; for then it will be sure to be long in
coming.

Give good hearing to those, that give the first information in business;
and rather direct them in the beginning, than interrupt them in the
continuance of their speeches; for he that is put out of his own order,
will go forward and backward, and be more tedious, while he waits
upon his memory, than he could have been, if he had gone on in his
own course. But sometimes it is seen, that the moderator is more
troublesome, than the actor.

Iterations are commonly loss of time. But there is no such gain of time,
as to iterate often the state of the question; for it chaseth away many
a frivolous speech, as it is coming forth. Long and curious speeches,
are as fit for dispatch, as a robe or mantle, with a long train, is
for race. Prefaces and passages, and excusations, and other speeches of
reference to the person, are great wastes of time; and though they
seem to proceed of modesty, they are bravery. Yet beware of being too
material, when there is any impediment or obstruction in men's wills;
for pre-occupation of mind ever requireth preface of speech; like a
fomentation to make the unguent enter.

Above all things, order, and distribution, and singling out of parts, is
the life of dispatch; so as the distribution be not too subtle: for he
that doth not divide, will never enter well into business; and he that
divideth too much, will never come out of it clearly. To choose time, is
to save time; and an unseasonable motion, is but beating the air. There
be three parts of business; the preparation, the debate or examination,
and the perfection. Whereof, if you look for dispatch, let the middle
only be the work of many, and the first and last the work of few. The
proceeding upon somewhat conceived in writing, doth for the most part
facilitate dispatch: for though it should be wholly rejected, yet that
negative is more pregnant of direction, than an indefinite; as ashes are
more generative than dust.




Of Seeming Wise


IT HATH been an opinion, that the French are wiser than they seem, and
the Spaniards seem wiser than they are. But howsoever it be between
nations, certainly it is so between man and man. For as the Apostle
saith of godliness, Having a show of godliness, but denying the power
thereof; so certainly there are, in point of wisdom and sufficiency,
that do nothing or little very solemnly: magno conatu nugas. It is a
ridiculous thing, and fit for a satire to persons of judgment, to
see what shifts these formalists have, and what prospectives to make
superficies to seem body, that hath depth and bulk. Some are so close
and reserved, as they will not show their wares, but by a dark light;
and seem always to keep back somewhat; and when they know within
themselves, they speak of that they do not well know, would nevertheless
seem to others, to know of that which they may not well speak. Some
help themselves with countenance and gesture, and are wise by signs; as
Cicero saith of Piso, that when he answered him, he fetched one of
his brows up to his forehead, and bent the other down to his chin;
Respondes, altero ad frontem sublato, altero ad mentum depresso
supercilio, crudelitatem tibi non placere. Some think to bear it by
speaking a great word, and being peremptory; and go on, and take by
admittance, that which they cannot make good. Some, whatsoever is beyond
their reach, will seem to despise, or make light of it, as impertinent
or curious; and so would have their ignorance seem judgment. Some are
never without a difference, and commonly by amusing men with a subtilty,
blanch the matter; of whom A. Gellius saith, Hominem delirum, qui
verborum minutiis rerum frangit pondera. Of which kind also, Plato,
in his Protagoras, bringeth in Prodicus in scorn, and maketh him make a
speech, that consisteth of distinction from the beginning to the end.
Generally, such men in all deliberations find ease to be of the negative
side, and affect a credit to object and foretell difficulties; for
when propositions are denied, there is an end of them; but if they be
allowed, it requireth a new work; which false point of wisdom is the
bane of business. To conclude, there is no decaying merchant, or inward
beggar, hath so many tricks to uphold the credit of their wealth, as
these empty persons have, to maintain the credit of their sufficiency.
Seeming wise men may make shift to get opinion; but let no man choose
them for employment; for certainly you were better take for business, a
man somewhat absurd, than over-formal.




Of Friendship


IT HAD been hard for him that spake it to have put more truth and
untruth together in few words, than in that speech, Whatsoever is
delighted in solitude, is either a wild beast or a god. For it is most
true, that a natural and secret hatred, and aversation towards society,
in any man, hath somewhat of the savage beast; but it is most untrue,
that it should have any character at all, of the divine nature; except
it proceed, not out of a pleasure in solitude, but out of a love and
desire to sequester a man's self, for a higher conversation: such as
is found to have been falsely and feignedly in some of the heathen; as
Epimenides the Candian, Numa the Roman, Empedocles the Sicilian, and
Apollonius of Tyana; and truly and really, in divers of the ancient
hermits and holy fathers of the church. But little do men perceive what
solitude is, and how far it extendeth. For a crowd is not company; and
faces are but a gallery of pictures; and talk but a tinkling cymbal,
where there is no love. The Latin adage meeteth with it a little: Magna
civitas, magna solitudo; because in a great town friends are scattered;
so that there is not that fellowship, for the most part, which is in
less neighborhoods. But we may go further, and affirm most truly, that
it is a mere and miserable solitude to want true friends; without which
the world is but a wilderness; and even in this sense also of solitude,
whosoever in the frame of his nature and affections, is unfit for
friendship, he taketh it of the beast, and not from humanity.

A principal fruit of friendship, is the ease and discharge of the
fulness and swellings of the heart, which passions of all kinds do cause
and induce. We know diseases of stoppings, and suffocations, are the
most dangerous in the body; and it is not much otherwise in the mind;
you may take sarza to open the liver, steel to open the spleen, flowers
of sulphur for the lungs, castoreum for the brain; but no receipt
openeth the heart, but a true friend; to whom you may impart griefs,
joys, fears, hopes, suspicions, counsels, and whatsoever lieth upon the
heart to oppress it, in a kind of civil shrift or confession.

It is a strange thing to observe, how high a rate great kings and
monarchs do set upon this fruit of friendship, whereof we speak: so
great, as they purchase it, many times, at the hazard of their own
safety and greatness. For princes, in regard of the distance of their
fortune from that of their subjects and servants, cannot gather this
fruit, except (to make themselves capable thereof) they raise some
persons to be, as it were, companions and almost equals to themselves,
which many times sorteth to inconvenience. The modern languages give
unto such persons the name of favorites, or privadoes; as if it were
matter of grace, or conversation. But the Roman name attaineth the true
use and cause thereof, naming them participes curarum; for it is that
which tieth the knot. And we see plainly that this hath been done, not
by weak and passionate princes only, but by the wisest and most politic
that ever reigned; who have oftentimes joined to themselves some of
their servants; whom both themselves have called friends, and allowed
other likewise to call them in the same manner; using the word which is
received between private men.

L. Sylla, when he commanded Rome, raised Pompey (after surnamed
the Great) to that height, that Pompey vaunted himself for Sylla's
overmatch. For when he had carried the consulship for a friend of
his, against the pursuit of Sylla, and that Sylla did a little resent
thereat, and began to speak great, Pompey turned upon him again, and in
effect bade him be quiet; for that more men adored the sun rising, than
the sun setting. With Julius Caesar, Decimus Brutus had obtained that
interest as he set him down in his testament, for heir in remainder,
after his nephew. And this was the man that had power with him, to
draw him forth to his death. For when Caesar would have discharged
the senate, in regard of some ill presages, and specially a dream of
Calpurnia; this man lifted him gently by the arm out of his chair,
telling him he hoped he would not dismiss the senate, till his wife
had dreamt a better dream. And it seemeth his favor was so great, as
Antonius, in a letter which is recited verbatim in one of Cicero's
Philippics, calleth him venefica, witch; as if he had enchanted Caesar.
Augustus raised Agrippa (though of mean birth) to that height, as when
he consulted with Maecenas, about the marriage of his daughter Julia,
Maecenas took the liberty to tell him, that he must either marry his
daughter to Agrippa, or take away his life; there was no third way, he
had made him so great. With Tiberius Caesar, Sejanus had ascended
to that height, as they two were termed, and reckoned, as a pair of
friends. Tiberius in a letter to him saith, Haec pro amicitia nostra non
occultavi; and the whole senate dedicated an altar to Friendship, as to
a goddess, in respect of the great dearness of friendship, between them
two. The like, or more, was between Septimius Severus and Plautianus.
For he forced his eldest son to marry the daughter of Plautianus; and
would often maintain Plautianus, in doing affronts to his son; and did
write also in a letter to the senate, by these words: I love the man so
well, as I wish he may over-live me. Now if these princes had been as
a Trajan, or a Marcus Aurelius, a man might have thought that this had
proceeded of an abundant goodness of nature; but being men so wise, of
such strength and severity of mind, and so extreme lovers of themselves,
as all these were, it proveth most plainly that they found their own
felicity (though as great as ever happened to mortal men) but as an half
piece, except they mought have a friend, to make it entire; and yet,
which is more, they were princes that had wives, sons, nephews; and yet
all these could not supply the comfort of friendship.

It is not to be forgotten, what Comineus observeth of his first master,
Duke Charles the Hardy, namely, that he would communicate his secrets
with none; and least of all, those secrets which troubled him most.
Whereupon he goeth on, and saith that towards his latter time, that
closeness did impair, and a little perish his understanding. Surely
Comineus mought have made the same judgment also, if it had pleased him,
of his second master, Lewis the Eleventh, whose closeness was indeed his
tormentor. The parable of Pythagoras is dark, but true; Cor ne edito;
Eat not the heart. Certainly, if a man would give it a hard phrase,
those that want friends, to open themselves unto, are cannibals of
their own hearts. But one thing is most admirable (wherewith I
will conclude this first fruit of friendship), which is, that this
communicating of a man's self to his friend, works two contrary effects;
for it redoubleth joys, and cutteth griefs in halves. For there is no
man, that imparteth his joys to his friend, but he joyeth the more;
and no man that imparteth his griefs to his friend, but he grieveth the
less. So that it is in truth, of operation upon a man's mind, of like
virtue as the alchemists use to attribute to their stone, for man's
body; that it worketh all contrary effects, but still to the good and
benefit of nature. But yet without praying in aid of alchemists, there
is a manifest image of this, in the ordinary course of nature. For in
bodies, union strengtheneth and cherisheth any natural action; and on
the other side, weakeneth and dulleth any violent impression: and even
so it is of minds.

The second fruit of friendship, is healthful and sovereign for the
understanding, as the first is for the affections. For friendship maketh
indeed a fair day in the affections, from storm and tempests; but it
maketh daylight in the understanding, out of darkness, and confusion
of thoughts. Neither is this to be understood only of faithful counsel,
which a man receiveth from his friend; but before you come to that,
certain it is, that whosoever hath his mind fraught with many thoughts,
his wits and understanding do clarify and break up, in the communicating
and discoursing with another; he tosseth his thoughts more easily; he
marshalleth them more orderly, he seeth how they look when they are
turned into words: finally, he waxeth wiser than himself; and that more
by an hour's discourse, than by a day's meditation. It was well said
by Themistocles, to the king of Persia, That speech was like cloth of
Arras, opened and put abroad; whereby the imagery doth appear in figure;
whereas in thoughts they lie but as in packs. Neither is this second
fruit of friendship, in opening the understanding, restrained only to
such friends as are able to give a man counsel; (they indeed are best;)
but even without that, a man learneth of himself, and bringeth his
own thoughts to light, and whetteth his wits as against a stone, which
itself cuts not. In a word, a man were better relate himself to a
statua, or picture, than to suffer his thoughts to pass in smother.

Add now, to make this second fruit of friendship complete, that other
point, which lieth more open, and falleth within vulgar observation;
which is faithful counsel from a friend. Heraclitus saith well in one
of his enigmas, Dry light is ever the best. And certain it is, that the
light that a man receiveth by counsel from another, is drier and purer,
than that which cometh from his own understanding and judgment; which is
ever infused, and drenched, in his affections and customs. So as there
is as much difference between the counsel, that a friend giveth, and
that a man giveth himself, as there is between the counsel of a friend,
and of a flatterer. For there is no such flatterer as is a man's self;
and there is no such remedy against flattery of a man's self, as
the liberty of a friend. Counsel is of two sorts: the one concerning
manners, the other concerning business. For the first, the best
preservative to keep the mind in health, is the faithful admonition of a
friend. The calling of a man's self to a strict account, is a medicine,
sometime too piercing and corrosive. Reading good books of morality,
is a little flat and dead. Observing our faults in others, is sometimes
improper for our case. But the best receipt (best, I say, to work, and
best to take) is the admonition of a friend. It is a strange thing to
behold, what gross errors and extreme absurdities many (especially of
the greater sort) do commit, for want of a friend to tell them of them;
to the great damage both of their fame and fortune: for, as St. James
saith, they are as men that look sometimes into a glass, and presently
forget their own shape and favor. As for business, a man may think, if
he win, that two eyes see no more than one; or that a gamester seeth
always more than a looker-on; or that a man in anger, is as wise as he
that hath said over the four and twenty letters; or that a musket may be
shot off as well upon the arm, as upon a rest; and such other fond and
high imaginations, to think himself all in all. But when all is done,
the help of good counsel, is that which setteth business straight. And
if any man think that he will take counsel, but it shall be by pieces;
asking counsel in one business, of one man, and in another business,
of another man; it is well (that is to say, better, perhaps, than if he
asked none at all); but he runneth two dangers: one, that he shall not
be faithfully counselled; for it is a rare thing, except it be from a
perfect and entire friend, to have counsel given, but such as shall
be bowed and crooked to some ends, which he hath, that giveth it. The
other, that he shall have counsel given, hurtful and unsafe (though with
good meaning), and mixed partly of mischief and partly of remedy; even
as if you would call a physician, that is thought good for the cure of
the disease you complain of, but is unacquainted with your body; and
therefore may put you in way for a present cure, but overthroweth
your health in some other kind; and so cure the disease, and kill the
patient. But a friend that is wholly acquainted with a man's estate,
will beware, by furthering any present business, how he dasheth upon
other inconvenience. And therefore rest not upon scattered counsels;
they will rather distract and mislead, than settle and direct.

After these two noble fruits of friendship (peace in the affections, and
support of the judgment), followeth the last fruit; which is like the
pomegranate, full of many kernels; I mean aid, and bearing a part, in
all actions and occasions. Here the best way to represent to life the
manifold use of friendship, is to cast and see how many things there
are, which a man cannot do himself; and then it will appear, that it
was a sparing speech of the ancients, to say, that a friend is another
himself; for that a friend is far more than himself. Men have
their time, and die many times, in desire of some things which they
principally take to heart; the bestowing of a child, the finishing of
a work, or the like. If a man have a true friend, he may rest almost
secure that the care of those things will continue after him. So that a
man hath, as it were, two lives in his desires. A man hath a body, and
that body is confined to a place; but where friendship is, all offices
of life are as it were granted to him, and his deputy. For he may
exercise them by his friend. How many things are there which a man
cannot, with any face or comeliness, say or do himself? A man can scarce
allege his own merits with modesty, much less extol them; a man cannot
sometimes brook to supplicate or beg; and a number of the like. But all
these things are graceful, in a friend's mouth, which are blushing in a
man's own. So again, a man's person hath many proper relations, which
he cannot put off. A man cannot speak to his son but as a father; to his
wife but as a husband; to his enemy but upon terms: whereas a friend may
speak as the case requires, and not as it sorteth with the person. But
to enumerate these things were endless; I have given the rule, where a
man cannot fitly play his own part; if he have not a friend, he may quit
the stage.




Of Expense


RICHES are for spending, and spending for honor and good actions.
Therefore extraordinary expense must be limited by the worth of the
occasion; for voluntary undoing, may be as well for a man's country, as
for the kingdom of heaven. But ordinary expense, ought to be limited
by a man's estate; and governed with such regard, as it be within his
compass; and not subject to deceit and abuse of servants; and ordered
to the best show, that the bills may be less than the estimation abroad.
Certainly, if a man will keep but of even hand, his ordinary expenses
ought to be but to the half of his receipts; and if he think to wax
rich, but to the third part. It is no baseness, for the greatest to
descend and look into their own estate. Some forbear it, not upon
negligence alone, but doubting to bring themselves into melancholy, in
respect they shall find it broken. But wounds cannot be cured without
searching. He that cannot look into his own estate at all, had need both
choose well those whom he employeth, and change them often; for new
are more timorous and less subtle. He that can look into his estate but
seldom, it behooveth him to turn all to certainties. A man had need, if
he be plentiful in some kind of expense, to be as saving again in some
other. As if he be plentiful in diet, to be saving in apparel; if he be
plentiful in the hall, to be saving in the stable; and the like. For
he that is plentiful in expenses of all kinds, will hardly be preserved
from decay. In clearing of a man's estate, he may as well hurt himself
in being too sudden, as in letting it run on too long. For hasty
selling, is commonly as disadvantageable as interest. Besides, he that
clears at once will relapse; for finding himself out of straits, he will
revert to his custom: but he that cleareth by degrees, induceth a habit
of frugality, and gaineth as well upon his mind, as upon his estate.
Certainly, who hath a state to repair, may not despise small things;
and commonly it is less dishonorable, to abridge petty charges, than to
stoop to petty gettings. A man ought warily to begin charges which once
begun will continue; but in matters that return not, he may be more
magnificent.




Of the True Greatness Of Kingdoms And Estates


THE speech of Themistocles the Athenian, which was haughty and arrogant,
in taking so much to himself, had been a grave and wise observation and
censure, applied at large to others. Desired at a feast to touch a lute,
he said, He could not fiddle, but yet he could make a small town, a
great city. These words (holpen a little with a metaphor) may express
two differing abilities, in those that deal in business of estate. For
if a true survey be taken of counsellors and statesmen, there may be
found (though rarely) those which can make a small state great, and yet
cannot fiddle; as on the other side, there will be found a great many,
that can fiddle very cunningly, but yet are so far from being able to
make a small state great, as their gift lieth the other way; to bring
a great and flourishing estate, to ruin and decay. And certainly whose
degenerate arts and shifts, whereby many counsellors and governors gain
both favor with their masters, and estimation with the vulgar, deserve
no better name than fiddling; being things rather pleasing for the
time, and graceful to themselves only, than tending to the weal and
advancement of the state which they serve. There are also (no doubt)
counsellors and governors which may be held sufficient (negotiis pares),
able to manage affairs, and to keep them from precipices and manifest
inconveniences; which nevertheless are far from the ability to raise and
amplify an estate in power, means, and fortune. But be the workmen what
they may be, let us speak of the work; that is, the true greatness of
kingdoms and estates, and the means thereof. An argument fit for great
and mighty princes to have in their hand; to the end that neither by
over-measuring their forces, they leese themselves in vain enterprises;
nor on the other side, by undervaluing them, they descend to fearful and
pusillanimous counsels.

The greatness of an estate, in bulk and territory, doth fall under
measure; and the greatness of finances and revenue, doth fall under
computation. The population may appear by musters; and the number and
greatness of cities and towns by cards and maps. But yet there is not
any thing amongst civil affairs more subject to error, than the right
valuation and true judgment concerning the power and forces of an
estate. The kingdom of heaven is compared, not to any great kernel or
nut, but to a grain of mustard-seed: which is one of the least grains,
but hath in it a property and spirit hastily to get up and spread. So
are there states, great in territory, and yet not apt to enlarge or
command; and some that have but a small dimension of stem, and yet apt
to be the foundations of great monarchies.

Walled towns, stored arsenals and armories, goodly races of horse,
chariots of war, elephants, ordnance, artillery, and the like; all this
is but a sheep in a lion's skin, except the breed and disposition of the
people, be stout and warlike. Nay, number (itself) in armies importeth
not much, where the people is of weak courage; for (as Virgil saith) It
never troubles a wolf, how many the sheep be. The army of the Persians,
in the plains of Arbela, was such a vast sea of people, as it did
somewhat astonish the commanders in Alexander's army; who came to him
therefore, and wished him to set upon them by night; and he answered, He
would not pilfer the victory. And the defeat was easy. When Tigranes
the Armenian, being encamped upon a hill with four hundred thousand men,
discovered the army of the Romans, being not above fourteen thousand,
marching towards him, he made himself merry with it, and said, Yonder
men are too many for an embassage, and too few for a fight. But before
the sun set, he found them enow to give him the chase with infinite
slaughter. Many are the examples of the great odds, between number and
courage; so that a man may truly make a judgment, that the principal
point of greatness in any state, is to have a race of military men.
Neither is money the sinews of war (as it is trivially said), where the
sinews of men's arms, in base and effeminate people, are failing. For
Solon said well to Croesus (when in ostentation he showed him his gold),
Sir, if any other come, that hath better iron, than you, he will be
master of all this gold. Therefore let any prince or state think solely
of his forces, except his militia of natives be of good and valiant
soldiers. And let princes, on the other side, that have subjects of
martial disposition, know their own strength; unless they be otherwise
wanting unto themselves. As for mercenary forces (which is the help in
this case), all examples show, that whatsoever estate or prince doth
rest upon them, he may spread his feathers for a time, but he will mew
them soon after.

The blessing of Judah and Issachar will never meet; that the same
people, or nation, should be both the lion's whelp and the ass between
burthens; neither will it be, that a people overlaid with taxes, should
ever become valiant and martial. It is true that taxes levied by
consent of the estate, do abate men's courage less: as it hath been seen
notably, in the excises of the Low Countries; and, in some degree, in
the subsidies of England. For you must note, that we speak now of the
heart, and not of the purse. So that although the same tribute and tax,
laid by consent or by imposing, be all one to the purse, yet it works
diversely upon the courage. So that you may conclude, that no people
overcharged with tribute, is fit for empire.

Let states that aim at greatness, take heed how their nobility and
gentlemen do multiply too fast. For that maketh the common subject, grow
to be a peasant and base swain, driven out of heart, and in effect but
the gentleman's laborer. Even as you may see in coppice woods; if you
leave your staddles too thick, you shall never have clean underwood, but
shrubs and bushes. So in countries, if the gentlemen be too many,
the commons will be base; and you will bring it to that, that not the
hundred poll, will be fit for an helmet; especially as to the infantry,
which is the nerve of an army; and so there will be great population,
and little strength. This which I speak of, hath been nowhere better
seen, than by comparing of England and France; whereof England, though
far less in territory and population, hath been (nevertheless) an
overmatch; in regard the middle people of England make good soldiers,
which the peasants of France do not. And herein the device of king Henry
the Seventh (whereof I have spoken largely in the History of his Life)
was profound and admirable; in making farms and houses of husbandry of a
standard; that is, maintained with such a proportion of land unto them,
as may breed a subject to live in convenient plenty and no servile
condition; and to keep the plough in the hands of the owners, and not
mere hirelings. And thus indeed you shall attain to Virgil's character
which he gives to ancient Italy:


Terra potens armis atque ubere glebae.

Neither is that state (which, for any thing I know, is almost peculiar
to England, and hardly to be found anywhere else, except it be perhaps
in Poland) to be passed over; I mean the state of free servants, and
attendants upon noblemen and gentlemen; which are no ways inferior unto
the yeomanry for arms. And therefore out of all questions, the splendor
and magnificence, and great retinues and hospitality, of noblemen
and gentlemen, received into custom, doth much conduce unto martial
greatness. Whereas, contrariwise, the close and reserved living of
noblemen and gentlemen, causeth a penury of military forces.

By all means it is to be procured, that the trunk of Nebuchadnezzar's
tree of monarchy, be great enough to bear the branches and the boughs;
that is, that the natural subjects of the crown or state, bear
a sufficient proportion to the stranger subjects, that they
govern. Therefore all states that are liberal of naturalization towards
strangers, are fit for empire. For to think that an handful of people
can, with the greatest courage and policy in the world, embrace too
large extent of dominion, it may hold for a time, but it will fail
suddenly. The Spartans were a nice people in point of naturalization;
whereby, while they kept their compass, they stood firm; but when they
did spread, and their boughs were becomen too great for their stem, they
became a windfall, upon the sudden. Never any state was in this point so
open to receive strangers into their body, as were the Romans. Therefore
it sorted with them accordingly; for they grew to the greatest monarchy.
Their manner was to grant naturalization (which they called jus
civitatis), and to grant it in the highest degree; that is, not only jus
commercii, jus connubii, jus haereditatis; but also jus suffragii, and
jus honorum. And this not to singular persons alone, but likewise to
whole families; yea to cities, and sometimes to nations. Add to this
their custom of plantation of colonies; whereby the Roman plant was
removed into the soil of other nations. And putting both constitutions
together, you will say that it was not the Romans that spread upon the
world, but it was the world that spread upon the Romans; and that was
the sure way of greatness. I have marvelled, sometimes, at Spain,
how they clasp and contain so large dominions, with so few natural
Spaniards; but sure the whole compass of Spain, is a very great body of
a tree; far above Rome and Sparta at the first. And besides, though they
have not had that usage, to naturalize liberally, yet they have that
which is next to it; that is, to employ, almost indifferently, all
nations in their militia of ordinary soldiers; yea, and sometimes
in their highest commands. Nay, it seemeth at this instant they are
sensible, of this want of natives; as by the Pragmatical Sanction, now
published, appeareth.

It is certain that sedentary, and within-door arts, and delicate
manufactures (that require rather the finger than the arm), have, in
their nature, a contrariety to a military disposition. And generally,
all warlike people are a little idle, and love danger better than
travail. Neither must they be too much broken of it, if they shall be
preserved in vigor. Therefore it was great advantage, in the ancient
states of Sparta, Athens, Rome, and others, that they had the use
of slaves, which commonly did rid those manufactures. But that is
abolished, in greatest part, by the Christian law. That which cometh
nearest to it, is to leave those arts chiefly to strangers (which, for
that purpose, are the more easily to be received), and to contain
the principal bulk of the vulgar natives, within those three
kinds,--tillers of the ground; free servants; and handicraftsmen of
strong and manly arts, as smiths, masons, carpenters, etc.; not
reckoning professed soldiers.

But above all, for empire and greatness, it importeth most, that a
nation do profess arms, as their principal honor, study, and occupation.
For the things which we formerly have spoken of, are but habilitations
towards arms; and what is habilitation without intention and act?
Romulus, after his death (as they report or feign), sent a present
to the Romans, that above all, they should intend arms; and then they
should prove the greatest empire of the world. The fabric of the state
of Sparta was wholly (though not wisely) framed and composed, to that
scope and end. The Persians and Macedonians had it for a flash. The
Gauls, Germans, Goths, Saxons, Normans, and others, had it for a time.
The Turks have it at this day, though in great declination. Of Christian
Europe, they that have it are, in effect, only the Spaniards. But it is
so plain, that every man profiteth in that, he most intendeth, that
it needeth not to be stood upon. It is enough to point at it; that no
nation which doth not directly profess arms, may look to have greatness
fall into their mouths. And on the other side, it is a most certain
oracle of time, that those states that continue long in that profession
(as the Romans and Turks principally have done) do wonders. And those
that have professed arms but for an age, have, notwithstanding, commonly
attained that greatness, in that age, which maintained them long after,
when their profession and exercise of arms hath grown to decay.

Incident to this point is, for a state to have those laws or customs,
which may reach forth unto them just occasions (as may be pretended)
of war. For there is that justice, imprinted in the nature of men, that
they enter not upon wars (whereof so many calamities do ensue) but upon
some, at the least specious, grounds and quarrels. The Turk hath at
hand, for cause of war, the propagation of his law or sect; a quarrel
that he may always command. The Romans, though they esteemed the
extending the limits of their empire, to be great honor to their
generals, when it was done, yet they never rested upon that alone, to
begin a war. First, therefore, let nations that pretend to greatness
have this; that they be sensible of wrongs, either upon borderers,
merchants, or politic ministers; and that they sit not too long upon
a provocation. Secondly, let them be prest, and ready to give aids
and succors, to their confederates; as it ever was with the Romans;
insomuch, as if the confederate had leagues defensive, with divers other
states, and, upon invasion offered, did implore their aids severally,
yet the Romans would ever be the foremost, and leave it to none other to
have the honor. As for the wars which were anciently made, on the behalf
of a kind of party, or tacit conformity of estate, I do not see how they
may be well justified: as when the Romans made a war, for the liberty of
Grecia; or when the Lacedaemonians and Athenians, made wars to set up
or pull down democracies and oligarchies; or when wars were made by
foreigners, under the pretence of justice or protection, to deliver the
subjects of others, from tyranny and oppression; and the like. Let it
suffice, that no estate expect to be great, that is not awake upon any
just occasion of arming.

No body can be healthful without exercise, neither natural body nor
politic; and certainly to a kingdom or estate, a just and honorable war,
is the true exercise. A civil war, indeed, is like the heat of a fever;
but a foreign war is like the heat of exercise, and serveth to keep the
body in health; for in a slothful peace, both courages will effeminate,
and manners corrupt. But howsoever it be for happiness, without all
question, for greatness, it maketh to be still for the most part in
arms; and the strength of a veteran army (though it be a chargeable
business) always on foot, is that which commonly giveth the law, or at
least the reputation, amongst all neighbor states; as may well be seen
in Spain, which hath had, in one part or other, a veteran army almost
continually, now by the space of six score years.

To be master of the sea, is an abridgment of a monarchy. Cicero, writing
to Atticus of Pompey his preparation against Caesar, saith, Consilium
Pompeii plane Themistocleum est; putat enim, qui mari potitur, eum rerum
potiri. And, without doubt, Pompey had tired out Caesar, if upon vain
confidence, he had not left that way. We see the great effects of
battles by sea. The battle of Actium, decided the empire of the world.
The battle of Lepanto, arrested the greatness of the Turk. There be many
examples, where sea-fights have been final to the war; but this is when
princes or states have set up their rest, upon the battles. But thus
much is certain, that he that commands the sea, is at great liberty, and
may take as much, and as little, of the war as he will. Whereas those
that be strongest by land, are many times nevertheless in great straits.
Surely, at this day, with us of Europe, the vantage of strength at sea
(which is one of the principal dowries of this kingdom of Great Britain)
is great; both because most of the kingdoms of Europe, are not merely
inland, but girt with the sea most part of their compass; and because
the wealth of both Indies seems in great part, but an accessory to the
command of the seas.

The wars of latter ages seem to be made in the dark, in respect of the
glory, and honor, which reflected upon men from the wars, in ancient
time. There be now, for martial encouragement, some degrees and orders
of chivalry; which nevertheless are conferred promiscuously, upon
soldiers and no soldiers; and some remembrance perhaps, upon the
scutcheon; and some hospitals for maimed soldiers; and such like
things. But in ancient times, the trophies erected upon the place of the
victory; the funeral laudatives and monuments for those that died in the
wars; the crowns and garlands personal; the style of emperor, which the
great kings of the world after borrowed; the triumphs of the generals,
upon their return; the great donatives and largesses, upon the
disbanding of the armies; were things able to inflame all men's
courages. But above all, that of the triumph, amongst the Romans, was
not pageants or gaudery, but one of the wisest and noblest institutions,
that ever was. For it contained three things: honor to the general;
riches to the treasury out of the spoils; and donatives to the army.
But that honor, perhaps were not fit for monarchies; except it be in the
person of the monarch himself, or his sons; as it came to pass in the
times of the Roman emperors, who did impropriate the actual triumphs to
themselves, and their sons, for such wars as they did achieve in person;
and left only, for wars achieved by subjects, some triumphal garments
and ensigns to the general.

To conclude: no man can by care taking (as the Scripture saith) add a
cubit to his stature, in this little model of a man's body; but in the
great frame of kingdoms and commonwealths, it is in the power of princes
or estates, to add amplitude and greatness to their kingdoms; for by
introducing such ordinances, constitutions, and customs, as we have now
touched, they may sow greatness to their posterity and succession. But
these things are commonly not observed, but left to take their chance.




Of Regiment Of Health


THERE is a wisdom in this; beyond the rules of physic: a man's own
observation, what he finds good of, and what he finds hurt of, is the
best physic to preserve health. But it is a safer conclusion to say,
This agreeth not well with me, therefore, I will not continue it; than
this, I find no offence of this, therefore I may use it. For strength of
nature in youth, passeth over many excesses, which are owing a man till
his age. Discern of the coming on of years, and think not to do the same
things still; for age will not be defied. Beware of sudden change, in
any great point of diet, and, if necessity enforce it, fit the rest to
it. For it is a secret both in nature and state, that it is safer
to change many things, than one. Examine thy customs of diet, sleep,
exercise, apparel, and the like; and try, in any thing thou shalt judge
hurtful, to discontinue it, by little and little; but so, as if thou
dost find any inconvenience by the change, thou come back to it again:
for it is hard to distinguish that which is generally held good and
wholesome, from that which is good particularly, and fit for thine own
body. To be free-minded and cheerfully disposed, at hours of meat, and
of sleep, and of exercise, is one of the best precepts of long lasting.
As for the passions, and studies of the mind; avoid envy, anxious
fears; anger fretting inwards; subtle and knotty inquisitions; joys
and exhilarations in excess; sadness not communicated. Entertain hopes;
mirth rather than joy; variety of delights, rather than surfeit of them;
wonder and admiration, and therefore novelties; studies that fill the
mind with splendid and illustrious objects, as histories, fables, and
contemplations of nature. If you fly physic in health altogether, it
will be too strange for your body, when you shall need it. If you make
it too familiar, it will work no extraordinary effect, when sickness
cometh. I commend rather some diet for certain seasons, than frequent
use of physic, except it be grown into a custom. For those diets alter
the body more, and trouble it less. Despise no new accident in your
body, but ask opinion of it. In sickness, respect health principally;
and in health, action. For those that put their bodies to endure in
health, may in most sicknesses, which are not very sharp, be cured
only with diet, and tendering. Celsus could never have spoken it as a
physician, had he not been a wise man withal, when he giveth it for one
of the great precepts of health and lasting, that a man do vary, and
interchange contraries, but with an inclination to the more benign
extreme: use fasting and full eating, but rather full eating; watching
and sleep, but rather sleep; sitting and exercise, but rather exercise;
and the like. So shall nature be cherished, and yet taught masteries.
Physicians are, some of them, so pleasing and conformable to the humor
of the patient, as they press not the true cure of the disease; and some
other are so regular, in proceeding according to art for the disease, as
they respect not sufficiently the condition of the patient. Take one of
a middle temper; or if it may not be found in one man, combine two of
either sort; and forget not to call as well, the best acquainted with
your body, as the best reputed of for his faculty.




Of Suspicion


SUSPICIONS amongst thoughts, are like bats amongst birds, they ever
fly by twilight. Certainly they are to be repressed, or at least well
guarded: for they cloud the mind; they leese friends; and they check
with business, whereby business cannot go on currently and constantly.
They dispose kings to tyranny, husbands to jealousy, wise men to
irresolution and melancholy. They are defects, not in the heart, but
in the brain; for they take place in the stoutest natures; as in the
example of Henry the Seventh of England. There was not a more suspicious
man, nor a more stout. And in such a composition they do small hurt. For
commonly they are not admitted, but with examination, whether they be
likely or no. But in fearful natures they gain ground too fast. There
is nothing makes a man suspect much, more than to know little; and
therefore men should remedy suspicion, by procuring to know more, and
not to keep their suspicions in smother. What would men have? Do they
think, those they employ and deal with, are saints? Do they not think,
they will have their own ends, and be truer to themselves, than to
them? Therefore there is no better way, to moderate suspicions, than to
account upon such suspicions as true, and yet to bridle them as false.
For so far a man ought to make use of suspicions, as to provide, as
if that should be true, that he suspects, yet it may do him no hurt.
Suspicions that the mind of itself gathers, are but buzzes; but
suspicions that are artificially nourished, and put into men's heads,
by the tales and whisperings of others, have stings. Certainly, the best
mean, to clear the way in this same wood of suspicions, is frankly to
communicate them with the party, that he suspects; for thereby he shall
be sure to know more of the truth of them, than he did before; and
withal shall make that party more circumspect, not to give further cause
of suspicion. But this would not be done to men of base natures; for
they, if they find themselves once suspected, will never be true.
The Italian says, Sospetto licentia fede; as if suspicion, did give
a passport to faith; but it ought, rather, to kindle it to discharge
itself.




Of Discourse


SOME, in their discourse, desire rather commendation of wit, in being
able to hold all arguments, than of judgment, in discerning what is
true; as if it were a praise, to know what might be said, and not, what
should be thought. Some have certain common places, and themes, wherein
they are good and want variety; which kind of poverty is for the most
part tedious, and when it is once perceived, ridiculous. The honorablest
part of talk, is to give the occasion; and again to moderate, and
pass to somewhat else; for then a man leads the dance. It is good, in
discourse and speech of conversation, to vary and intermingle speech
of the present occasion, with arguments, tales with reasons, asking of
questions, with telling of opinions, and jest with earnest: for it is a
dull thing to tire, and, as we say now, to jade, any thing too far. As
for jest, there be certain things, which ought to be privileged from
it; namely, religion, matters of state, great persons, any man's present
business of importance, and any case that deserveth pity. Yet there
be some, that think their wits have been asleep, except they dart out
somewhat that is piquant, and to the quick. That is a vein which would
be bridled:


Parce, puer, stimulis, et fortius utere loris.


And generally, men ought to find the difference, between saltness and
bitterness. Certainly, he that hath a satirical vein, as he maketh
others afraid of his wit, so he had need be afraid of others' memory.
He that questioneth much, shall learn much, and content much; but
especially, if he apply his questions to the skill of the persons whom
he asketh; for he shall give them occasion, to please themselves in
speaking, and himself shall continually gather knowledge. But let his
questions not be troublesome; for that is fit for a poser. And let him
be sure to leave other men, their turns to speak. Nay, if there be any,
that would reign and take up all the time, let him find means to take
them off, and to bring others on; as musicians use to do, with those
that dance too long galliards. If you dissemble, sometimes, your
knowledge of that you are thought to know, you shall be thought, another
time, to know that you know not. Speech of a man's self ought to be
seldom, and well chosen. I knew one, was wont to say in scorn, He must
needs be a wise man, he speaks so much of himself: and there is but one
case, wherein a man may commend himself with good grace; and that is
in commending virtue in another; especially if it be such a virtue,
whereunto himself pretendeth. Speech of touch towards others, should
be sparingly used; for discourse ought to be as a field, without coming
home to any man. I knew two noblemen, of the west part of England,
whereof the one was given to scoff, but kept ever royal cheer in his
house; the other would ask, of those that had been at the other's table,
Tell truly, was there never a flout or dry blow given? To which the
guest would answer, Such and such a thing passed. The lord would say, I
thought, he would mar a good dinner. Discretion of speech, is more than
eloquence; and to speak agreeably to him, with whom we deal, is more
than to speak in good words, or in good order. A good continued speech,
without a good speech of interlocution, shows slowness: and a good reply
or second speech, without a good settled speech, showeth shallowness
and weakness. As we see in beasts, that those that are weakest in the
course, are yet nimblest in the turn; as it is betwixt the greyhound and
the hare. To use too many circumstances, ere one come to the matter, is
wearisome; to use none at all, is blunt.




Of Plantations


PLANTATIONS are amongst ancient, primitive, and heroical works. When the
world was young, it begat more children; but now it is old, it begets
fewer: for I may justly account new plantations, to be the children
of former kingdoms. I like a plantation in a pure soil; that is, where
people are not displanted, to the end, to plant in others. For else it
is rather an extirpation, than a plantation. Planting of countries, is
like planting of woods; for you must make account to leese almost twenty
years' profit, and expect your recompense in the end. For the principal
thing, that hath been the destruction of most plantations, hath been the
base and hasty drawing of profit, in the first years. It is true, speedy
profit is not to be neglected, as far as may stand with the good of the
plantation, but no further. It is a shameful and unblessed thing, to
take the scum of people, and wicked condemned men, to be the people with
whom you plant; and not only so, but it spoileth the plantation; for
they will ever live like rogues, and not fall to work, but be lazy, and
do mischief, and spend victuals, and be quickly weary, and then certify
over to their country, to the discredit of the plantation. The people
wherewith you plant ought to be gardeners, ploughmen, laborers, smiths,
carpenters, joiners, fishermen, fowlers, with some few apothecaries,
surgeons, cooks, and bakers. In a country of plantation, first look
about, what kind of victual the country yields of itself to hand; as
chestnuts, walnuts, pineapples, olives, dates, plums, cherries, wild
honey, and the like; and make use of them. Then consider what victual or
esculent things there are, which grow speedily, and within the year; as
parsnips, carrots, turnips, onions, radish, artichokes of Hierusalem,
maize, and the like. For wheat, barley, and oats, they ask too much
labor; but with pease and beans you may begin, both because they ask
less labor, and because they serve for meat, as well as for bread. And
of rice, likewise cometh a great increase, and it is a kind of meat.
Above all, there ought to be brought store of biscuit, oat-meal, flour,
meal, and the like, in the beginning, till bread may be had. For beasts,
or birds, take chiefly such as are least subject to diseases, and
multiply fastest; as swine, goats, cocks, hens, turkeys, geese,
house-doves, and the like. The victual in plantations, ought to be
expended almost as in a besieged town; that is, with certain allowance.
And let the main part of the ground, employed to gardens or corn, be to
a common stock; and to be laid in, and stored up, and then delivered out
in proportion; besides some spots of ground, that any particular person
will manure for his own private. Consider likewise what commodities, the
soil where the plantation is, doth naturally yield, that they may some
way help to defray the charge of the plantation (so it be not, as was
said, to the untimely prejudice of the main business), as it hath fared
with tobacco in Virginia. Wood commonly aboundeth but too much; and
therefore timber is fit to be one. If there be iron ore, and streams
whereupon to set the mills, iron is a brave commodity where wood
aboundeth. Making of bay-salt, if the climate be proper for it, would
be put in experience. Growing silk likewise, if any be, is a likely
commodity. Pitch and tar, where store of firs and pines are, will not
fail. So drugs and sweet woods, where they are, cannot but yield great
profit. Soap-ashes likewise, and other things that may be thought
of. But moil not too much under ground; for the hope of mines is very
uncertain, and useth to make the planters lazy, in other things. For
government; let it be in the hands of one, assisted with some counsel;
and let them have commission to exercise martial laws, with some
limitation. And above all, let men make that profit, of being in the
wilderness, as they have God always, and his service, before their
eyes. Let not the government of the plantation, depend upon too many
counsellors, and undertakers, in the country that planteth, but upon a
temperate number; and let those be rather noblemen and gentlemen, than
merchants; for they look ever to the present gain. Let there be freedom
from custom, till the plantation be of strength; and not only freedom
from custom, but freedom to carry their commodities, where they may make
their best of them, except there be some special cause of caution. Cram
not in people, by sending too fast company after company; but rather
harken how they waste, and send supplies proportionably; but so, as
the number may live well in the plantation, and not by surcharge be
in penury. It hath been a great endangering to the health of some
plantations, that they have built along the sea and rivers, in marish
and unwholesome grounds. Therefore, though you begin there, to avoid
carriage and like discommodities, yet build still rather upwards from
the streams, than along. It concerneth likewise the health of the
plantation, that they have good store of salt with them, that they may
use it in their victuals, when it shall be necessary. If you plant where
savages are, do not only entertain them, with trifles and gingles, but
use them justly and graciously, with sufficient guard nevertheless; and
do not win their favor, by helping them to invade their enemies, but for
their defence it is not amiss; and send oft of them, over to the country
that plants, that they may see a better condition than their own, and
commend it when they return. When the plantation grows to strength, then
it is time to plant with women, as well as with men; that the plantation
may spread into generations, and not be ever pieced from without. It is
the sinfullest thing in the world, to forsake or destitute a plantation
once in forwardness; for besides the dishonor, it is the guiltiness of
blood of many commiserable persons.




Of Riches


I CANNOT call riches better than the baggage of virtue. The Roman word
is better, impedimenta. For as the baggage is to an army, so is riches
to virtue. It cannot be spared, nor left behind, but it hindereth the
march; yea, and the care of it, sometimes loseth or disturbeth the
victory. Of great riches there is no real use, except it be in the
distribution; the rest is but conceit. So saith Solomon, Where much is,
there are many to consume it; and what hath the owner, but the sight of
it with his eyes? The personal fruition in any man, cannot reach to
feel great riches: there is a custody of them; or a power of dole, and
donative of them; or a fame of them; but no solid use to the owner.
Do you not see what feigned prices, are set upon little stones and
rarities? and what works of ostentation are undertaken, because there
might seem to be some use of great riches? But then you will say, they
may be of use, to buy men out of dangers or troubles. As Solomon saith,
Riches are as a strong hold, in the imagination of the rich man. But
this is excellently expressed, that it is in imagination, and not always
in fact. For certainly great riches, have sold more men, than they have
bought out. Seek not proud riches, but such as thou mayest get justly,
use soberly, distribute cheerfully, and leave contentedly. Yet have no
abstract nor friarly contempt of them. But distinguish, as Cicero saith
well of Rabirius Posthumus, In studio rei amplificandae apparebat, non
avaritiae praedam, sed instrumentum bonitati quaeri. Harken also to
Solomon, and beware of hasty gathering of riches; Qui festinat ad
divitias, non erit insons. The poets feign, that when Plutus (which is
Riches) is sent from Jupiter, he limps and goes slowly; but when he
is sent from Pluto, he runs, and is swift of foot. Meaning that riches
gotten by good means, and just labor, pace slowly; but when they come
by the death of others (as by the course of inheritance, testaments,
and the like), they come tumbling upon a man. But it mought be applied
likewise to Pluto, taking him for the devil. For when riches come from
the devil (as by fraud and oppression, and unjust means), they come upon
speed. The ways to enrich are many, and most of them foul. Parsimony is
one of the best, and yet is not innocent; for it withholdeth men from
works of liberality and charity. The improvement of the ground, is the
most natural obtaining of riches; for it is our great mother's blessing,
the earth's; but it is slow. And yet where men of great wealth do stoop
to husbandry, it multiplieth riches exceedingly. I knew a nobleman in
England, that had the greatest audits of any man in my time; a great
grazier, a great sheep-master, a great timber man, a great collier, a
great corn-master, a great lead-man, and so of iron, and a number of
the like points of husbandry. So as the earth seemed a sea to him, in
respect of the perpetual importation. It was truly observed by one, that
himself came very hardly, to a little riches, and very easily, to great
riches. For when a man's stock is come to that, that he can expect the
prime of markets, and overcome those bargains, which for their greatness
are few men's money, and be partner in the industries of younger men, he
cannot but increase mainly. The gains of ordinary trades and vocations
are honest; and furthered by two things chiefly: by diligence, and by a
good name, for good and fair dealing. But the gains of bargains, are
of a more doubtful nature; when men shall wait upon others' necessity,
broke by servants and instruments to draw them on, put off others
cunningly, that would be better chapmen, and the like practices, which
are crafty and naught. As for the chopping of bargains, when a man buys
not to hold but to sell over again, that commonly grindeth double, both
upon the seller, and upon the buyer. Sharings do greatly enrich, if the
hands be well chosen, that are trusted. Usury is the certainest means of
gain, though one of the worst; as that whereby a man doth eat his bread,
in sudore vultus alieni; and besides, doth plough upon Sundays. But yet
certain though it be, it hath flaws; for that the scriveners and brokers
do value unsound men, to serve their own turn. The fortune in being
the first, in an invention or in a privilege, doth cause sometimes a
wonderful overgrowth in riches; as it was with the first sugar man, in
the Canaries. Therefore if a man can play the true logician, to have as
well judgment, as invention, he may do great matters; especially if the
times be fit. He that resteth upon gains certain, shall hardly grow
to great riches; and he that puts all upon adventures, doth oftentimes
break and come to poverty: it is good, therefore, to guard adventures
with certainties, that may uphold losses. Monopolies, and coemption of
wares for re-sale, where they are not restrained, are great means to
enrich; especially if the party have intelligence, what things are like
to come into request, and so store himself beforehand. Riches gotten
by service, though it be of the best rise, yet when they are gotten
by flattery, feeding humors, and other servile conditions, they may
be placed amongst the worst. As for fishing for testaments and
executorships (as Tacitus saith of Seneca, testamenta et orbos tamquam
indagine capi), it is yet worse; by how much men submit themselves to
meaner persons, than in service. Believe not much, them that seem to
despise riches; for they despise them, that despair of them; and none
worse, when they come to them. Be not penny-wise; riches have wings,
and sometimes they fly away of themselves, sometimes they must be
set flying, to bring in more. Men leave their riches, either to their
kindred, or to the public; and moderate portions, prosper best in both.
A great state left to an heir, is as a lure to all the birds of prey
round about, to seize on him, if he be not the better stablished in
years and judgment. Likewise glorious gifts and foundations, are like
sacrifices without salt; and but the painted sepulchres of alms, which
soon will putrefy, and corrupt inwardly. Therefore measure not thine
advancements, by quantity, but frame them by measure: and defer not
charities till death; for, certainly, if a man weigh it rightly, he that
doth so, is rather liberal of another man's, than of his own.




Of Prophecies


I MEAN not to speak of divine prophecies; nor of heathen oracles; nor
of natural predictions; but only of prophecies that have been of certain
memory, and from hidden causes. Saith the Pythonissa to Saul, To-morrow
thou and thy son shall be with me. Homer hath these verses:


At domus AEneae cunctis dominabitur oris, Et nati natorum, et qui
nascentur ab illis.


A prophecy, as it seems, of the Roman empire. Seneca the tragedian hath
these verses:


       --Venient annis
     Saecula seris, quibus Oceanus
     Vincula rerum laxet, et ingens
     Pateat Tellus, Tiphysque novos
     Detegat orbes; nec sit terris
     Ultima Thule:


a prophecy of the discovery of America. The daughter of Polycrates,
dreamed that Jupiter bathed her father, and Apollo anointed him; and it
came to pass, that he was crucified in an open place, where the sun
made his body run with sweat, and the rain washed it. Philip of Macedon
dreamed, he sealed up his wife's belly; whereby he did expound it, that
his wife should be barren; but Aristander the soothsayer, told him his
wife was with child, because men do not use to seal vessels, that are
empty. A phantasm that appeared to M. Brutus, in his tent, said to him,
Philippis iterum me videbis. Tiberius said to Galba, Tu quoque, Galba,
degustabis imperium. In Vespasian's time, there went a prophecy in the
East, that those that should come forth of Judea, should reign over
the world: which though it may be was meant of our Savior; yet Tacitus
expounds it of Vespasian. Domitian dreamed, the night before he was
slain, that a golden head was growing, out of the nape of his neck: and
indeed, the succession that followed him for many years, made golden
times. Henry the Sixth of England, said of Henry the Seventh, when he
was a lad, and gave him water, This is the lad that shall enjoy the
crown, for which we strive. When I was in France, I heard from one Dr.
Pena, that the Queen Mother, who was given to curious arts, caused the
King her husband's nativity to be calculated, under a false name; and
the astrologer gave a judgment, that he should be killed in a duel; at
which the Queen laughed, thinking her husband to be above challenges
and duels: but he was slain upon a course at tilt, the splinters of the
staff of Montgomery going in at his beaver. The trivial prophecy, which
I heard when I was a child, and Queen Elizabeth was in the flower of her
years, was,


     When hempe is spun

     England's done:

whereby it was generally conceived, that after the princes had reigned,
which had the principal letters of that word hempe (which were Henry,
Edward, Mary, Philip, and Elizabeth), England should come to utter
confusion; which, thanks be to God, is verified only in the change of
the name; for that the King's style, is now no more of England but of
Britain. There was also another prophecy, before the year of '88, which
I do not well understand.


     There shall be seen upon a day,
     Between the Baugh and the May,
     The black fleet of Norway.
     When that that is come and gone,
     England build houses of lime and stone,
     For after wars shall you have none.


It was generally conceived to be meant, of the Spanish fleet that came
in '88: for that the king of Spain's surname, as they say, is Norway.
The prediction of Regiomontanus,


     Octogesimus octavus mirabilis annus,


was thought likewise accomplished in the sending of that great fleet,
being the greatest in strength, though not in number, of all that ever
swam upon the sea. As for Cleon's dream, I think it was a jest. It was,
that he was devoured of a long dragon; and it was expounded of a maker
of sausages, that troubled him exceedingly. There are numbers of
the like kind; especially if you include dreams, and predictions of
astrology. But I have set down these few only, of certain credit, for
example. My judgment is, that they ought all to be despised; and
ought to serve but for winter talk by the fireside. Though when I say
despised, I mean it as for belief; for otherwise, the spreading, or
publishing, of them, is in no sort to be despised. For they have done
much mischief; and I see many severe laws made, to suppress them. That
that hath given them grace, and some credit, consisteth in three things.
First, that men mark when they hit, and never mark when they miss;
as they do generally also of dreams. The second is, that probable
conjectures, or obscure traditions, many times turn themselves into
prophecies; while the nature of man, which coveteth divination, thinks
it no peril to foretell that which indeed they do but collect. As that
of Seneca's verse. For so much was then subject to demonstration, that
the globe of the earth had great parts beyond the Atlantic, which
mought be probably conceived not to be all sea: and adding thereto the
tradition in Plato's Timaeus, and his Atlanticus, it mought encourage
one to turn it to a prediction. The third and last (which is the great
one) is, that almost all of them, being infinite in number, have been
impostures, and by idle and crafty brains merely contrived and feigned,
after the event past.




Of Ambition


AMBITION is like choler; which is an humor that maketh men active,
earnest, full of alacrity, and stirring, if it be not stopped. But if
it be stopped, and cannot have his way, it becometh adust, and thereby
malign and venomous. So ambitious men, if they find the way open
for their rising, and still get forward, they are rather busy than
dangerous; but if they be checked in their desires, they become secretly
discontent, and look upon men and matters with an evil eye, and are
best pleased, when things go backward; which is the worst property in a
servant of a prince, or state. Therefore it is good for princes, if they
use ambitious men, to handle it, so as they be still progressive and
not retrograde; which, because it cannot be without inconvenience, it
is good not to use such natures at all. For if they rise not with their
service, they will take order, to make their service fall with them. But
since we have said, it were good not to use men of ambitious natures,
except it be upon necessity, it is fit we speak, in what cases they are
of necessity. Good commanders in the wars must be taken, be they never
so ambitious; for the use of their service, dispenseth with the rest;
and to take a soldier without ambition, is to pull off his spurs. There
is also great use of ambitious men, in being screens to princes in
matters of danger and envy; for no man will take that part, except he be
like a seeled dove, that mounts and mounts, because he cannot see about
him. There is use also of ambitious men, in pulling down the greatness
of any subject that overtops; as Tiberius used Marco, in the pulling
down of Sejanus. Since, therefore, they must be used in such cases,
there resteth to speak, how they are to be bridled, that they may be
less dangerous. There is less danger of them, if they be of mean birth,
than if they be noble; and if they be rather harsh of nature, than
gracious and popular: and if they be rather new raised, than grown
cunning, and fortified, in their greatness. It is counted by some, a
weakness in princes, to have favorites; but it is, of all others,
the best remedy against ambitious great-ones. For when the way of
pleasuring, and displeasuring, lieth by the favorite, it is impossible
any other should be overgreat. Another means to curb them, is to balance
them by others, as proud as they. But then there must be some middle
counsellors, to keep things steady; for without that ballast, the ship
will roll too much. At the least, a prince may animate and inure some
meaner persons, to be as it were scourges, to ambitious men. As for the
having of them obnoxious to ruin; if they be of fearful natures, it
may do well; but if they be stout and daring, it may precipitate their
designs, and prove dangerous. As for the pulling of them down, if the
affairs require it, and that it may not be done with safety suddenly,
the only way is the interchange, continually, of favors and disgraces;
whereby they may not know what to expect, and be, as it were, in a
wood. Of ambitions, it is less harmful, the ambition to prevail in
great things, than that other, to appear in every thing; for that breeds
confusion, and mars business. But yet it is less danger, to have an
ambitious man stirring in business, than great in dependences. He that
seeketh to be eminent amongst able men, hath a great task; but that
is ever good for the public. But he, that plots to be the only figure
amongst ciphers, is the decay of a whole age. Honor hath three things in
it: the vantage ground to do good; the approach to kings and principal
persons; and the raising of a man's own fortunes. He that hath the
best of these intentions, when he aspireth, is an honest man; and that
prince, that can discern of these intentions in another that aspireth,
is a wise prince. Generally, let princes and states choose such
ministers, as are more sensible of duty than of using; and such as love
business rather upon conscience, than upon bravery, and let them discern
a busy nature, from a willing mind.




Of Masques And Triumphs


THESE things are but toys, to come amongst such serious observations.
But yet, since princes will have such things, it is better they should
be graced with elegancy, than daubed with cost. Dancing to song, is a
thing of great state and pleasure. I understand it, that the song be
in quire, placed aloft, and accompanied with some broken music; and the
ditty fitted to the device. Acting in song, especially in dialogues,
hath an extreme good grace; I say acting, not dancing (for that is a
mean and vulgar thing); and the voices of the dialogue would be strong
and manly (a base and a tenor; no treble); and the ditty high and
tragical; not nice or dainty. Several quires, placed one over against
another, and taking the voice by catches, anthem-wise, give great
pleasure. Turning dances into figure, is a childish curiosity. And
generally let it be noted, that those things which I here set down, are
such as do naturally take the sense, and not respect petty wonderments.
It is true, the alterations of scenes, so it be quietly and without
noise, are things of great beauty and pleasure; for they feed and
relieve the eye, before it be full of the same object. Let the scenes
abound with light, specially  and varied; and let the masquers,
or any other, that are to come down from the scene, have some motions
upon the scene itself, before their coming down; for it draws the eye
strangely, and makes it, with great pleasure, to desire to see, that it
cannot perfectly discern. Let the songs be loud and cheerful, and not
chirpings or pulings. Let the music likewise be sharp and loud, and well
placed. The colors that show best by candle-light are white, carnation,
and a kind of sea-water-green; and oes, or spangs, as they are of no
great cost, so they are of most glory. As for rich embroidery, it is
lost and not discerned. Let the suits of the masquers be graceful, and
such as become the person, when the vizors are off; not after examples
of known attires; Turke, soldiers, mariners', and the like. Let
anti-masques not be long; they have been commonly of fools, satyrs,
baboons, wild-men, antics, beasts, sprites, witches, Ethiops, pigmies,
turquets, nymphs, rustics, Cupids, statuas moving, and the like. As
for angels, it is not comical enough, to put them in anti-masques; and
anything that is hideous, as devils, giants, is on the other side as
unfit. But chiefly, let the music of them be recreative, and with some
strange changes. Some sweet odors suddenly coming forth, without any
drops falling, are, in such a company as there is steam and heat, things
of great pleasure and refreshment. Double masques, one of men, another
of ladies, addeth state and variety. But all is nothing except the room
be kept clear and neat.

For justs, and tourneys, and barriers; the glories of them are chiefly
in the chariots, wherein the challengers make their entry; especially
if they be drawn with strange beasts: as lions, bears, camels, and the
like; or in the devices of their entrance; or in the bravery of their
liveries; or in the goodly furniture of their horses and armor. But
enough of these toys.




Of Nature In Men


NATURE is often hidden; sometimes overcome; seldom extinguished. Force,
maketh nature more violent in the return; doctrine and discourse, maketh
nature less importune; but custom only doth alter and subdue nature. He
that seeketh victory over his nature, let him not set himself too great,
nor too small tasks; for the first will make him dejected by often
failings; and the second will make him a small proceeder, though by
often prevailings. And at the first let him practise with helps, as
swimmers do with bladders or rushes; but after a time let him practise
with disadvantages, as dancers do with thick shoes. For it breeds great
perfection, if the practice be harder than the use. Where nature is
mighty, and therefore the victory hard, the degrees had need be, first
to stay and arrest nature in time; like to him that would say over the
four and twenty letters when he was angry; then to go less in quantity;
as if one should, in forbearing wine, come from drinking healths, to a
draught at a meal; and lastly, to discontinue altogether. But if a man
have the fortitude, and resolution, to enfranchise himself at once, that
is the best:


     Optimus ille animi vindex laedentia pectus
     Vincula qui rupit, dedoluitque semel.


Neither is the ancient rule amiss, to bend nature, as a wand, to a
contrary extreme, whereby to set it right, understanding it, where the
contrary extreme is no vice. Let not a man force a habit upon himself,
with a perpetual continuance, but with some intermission. For both the
pause reinforceth the new onset; and if a man that is not perfect,
be ever in practice, he shall as well practise his errors, as his
abilities, and induce one habit of both; and there is no means to help
this, but by seasonable intermissions. But let not a man trust his
victory over his nature, too far; for nature will lay buried a great
time, and yet revive, upon the occasion or temptation. Like as it was
with AEsop's damsel, turned from a cat to a woman, who sat very demurely
at the board's end, till a mouse ran before her. Therefore, let a man
either avoid the occasion altogether; or put himself often to it, that
he may be little moved with it. A man's nature is best perceived in
privateness, for there is no affectation; in passion, for that putteth
a man out of his precepts; and in a new case or experiment, for there
custom leaveth him. They are happy men, whose natures sort with their
vocations; otherwise they may say, multum incola fuit anima mea;
when they converse in those things, they do not affect. In studies,
whatsoever a man commandeth upon himself, let him set hours for it; but
whatsoever is agreeable to his nature, let him take no care for any set
times; for his thoughts will fly to it, of themselves; so as the spaces
of other business, or studies, will suffice. A man's nature, runs either
to herbs or weeds; therefore let him seasonably water the one, and
destroy the other.




Of Custom And Education


MEN'S thoughts, are much according to their inclination; their discourse
and speeches, according to their learning and infused opinions; but
their deeds, are after as they have been accustomed. And therefore, as
Machiavel well noteth (though in an evil-favored instance), there is no
trusting to the force of nature, nor to the bravery of words, except it
be corroborate by custom. His instance is, that for the achieving of a
desperate conspiracy, a man should not rest upon the fierceness of any
man's nature, or his resolute undertakings; but take such an one, as
hath had his hands formerly in blood. But Machiavel knew not of a Friar
Clement, nor a Ravillac, nor a Jaureguy, nor a Baltazar Gerard; yet his
rule holdeth still, that nature, nor the engagement of words, are not so
forcible, as custom. Only superstition is now so well advanced, that men
of the first blood, are as firm as butchers by occupation; and votary
resolution, is made equipollent to custom, even in matter of blood. In
other things, the predominancy of custom is everywhere visible; insomuch
as a man would wonder, to hear men profess, protest, engage, give great
words, and then do, just as they have done before; as if they were dead
images, and engines moved only by the wheels of custom. We see also the
reign or tyranny of custom, what it is. The Indians (I mean the sect
of their wise men) lay themselves quietly upon a stock of wood, and so
sacrifice themselves by fire. Nay, the wives strive to be burned, with
the corpses of their husbands. The lads of Sparta, of ancient time,
were wont to be scourged upon the altar of Diana, without so much as
queching. I remember, in the beginning of Queen Elizabeth's time of
England, an Irish rebel condemned, put up a petition to the deputy, that
he might be hanged in a withe, and not in an halter; because it had been
so used, with former rebels. There be monks in Russia, for penance, that
will sit a whole night in a vessel of water, till they be engaged with
hard ice. Many examples may be put of the force of custom, both upon
mind and body. Therefore, since custom is the principal magistrate
of man's life, let men by all means endeavor, to obtain good customs.
Certainly custom is most perfect, when it beginneth in young years: this
we call education; which is, in effect, but an early custom. So we see,
in languages, the tongue is more pliant to all expressions and sounds,
the joints are more supple, to all feats of activity and motions, in
youth than afterwards. For it is true, that late learners cannot so
well take the ply; except it be in some minds, that have not suffered
themselves to fix, but have kept themselves open, and prepared to
receive continual amendment, which is exceeding rare. But if the force
of custom simple and separate, be great, the force of custom copulate
and conjoined and collegiate, is far greater. For there example
teacheth, company comforteth, emulation quickeneth, glory raiseth: so as
in such places the force of custom is in his exaltation. Certainly
the great multiplication of virtues upon human nature, resteth upon
societies well ordained and disciplined. For commonwealths, and good
governments, do nourish virtue grown but do not much mend the deeds.
But the misery is, that the most effectual means, are now applied to the
ends, least to be desired.




Of Fortune


IT CANNOT be denied, but outward accidents conduce much to fortune;
favor, opportunity, death of others, occasion fitting virtue. But
chiefly, the mould of a man's fortune is in his own hands. Faber quisque
fortunae suae, saith the poet. And the most frequent of external causes
is, that the folly of one man, is the fortune of another. For no man
prospers so suddenly, as by others' errors. Serpens nisi serpentem
comederit non fit draco. Overt and apparent virtues, bring forth praise;
but there be secret and hidden virtues, that bring forth fortune;
certain deliveries of a man's self, which have no name. The Spanish
name, desemboltura, partly expresseth them; when there be not stonds nor
restiveness in a man's nature; but that the wheels of his mind, keep way
with the wheels of his fortune. For so Livy (after he had described Cato
Major in these words, In illo viro tantum robur corporis et animi fuit,
ut quocunque loco natus esset, fortunam sibi facturus videretur) falleth
upon that, that he had versatile ingenium. Therefore if a man look
sharply and attentively, he shall see Fortune: for though she be blind,
yet she is not invisible. The way of fortune, is like the Milken Way in
the sky; which is a meeting or knot of a number of small stars; not seen
asunder, but giving light together. So are there a number of little, and
scarce discerned virtues, or rather faculties and customs, that make men
fortunate. The Italians note some of them, such as a man would little
think. When they speak of one that cannot do amiss, they will throw in,
into his other conditions, that he hath Poco di matto. And certainly
there be not two more fortunate properties, than to have a little of the
fool, and not too much of the honest. Therefore extreme lovers of their
country or masters, were never fortunate, neither can they be. For when
a man placeth his thoughts without himself, he goeth not his own way.
An hasty fortune maketh an enterpriser and remover (the French hath it
better, entreprenant, or remuant); but the exercised fortune maketh the
able man. Fortune is to be honored and respected, and it be but for her
daughters, Confidence and Reputation. For those two, Felicity breedeth;
the first within a man's self, the latter in others towards him. All
wise men, to decline the envy of their own virtues, use to ascribe them
to Providence and Fortune; for so they may the better assume them: and,
besides, it is greatness in a man, to be the care of the higher powers.
So Caesar said to the pilot in the tempest, Caesarem portas, et fortunam
ejus. So Sylla chose the name of Felix, and not of Magnus. And it hath
been noted, that those who ascribe openly too much to their own wisdom
and policy, end infortunate. It is written that Timotheus the Athenian,
after he had, in the account he gave to the state of his government,
often interlaced this speech, and in this, Fortune had no part, never
prospered in anything, he undertook afterwards. Certainly there be,
whose fortunes are like Homer's verses, that have a slide and easiness
more than the verses of other poets; as Plutarch saith of Timoleon's
fortune, in respect of that of Agesilaus or Epaminondas. And that this
should be, no doubt it is much, in a man's self.




Of Usury


MANY have made witty invectives against usury. They say that it is a
pity, the devil should have God's part, which is the tithe. That the
usurer is the greatest Sabbath-breaker, because his plough goeth every
Sunday. That the usurer is the drone, that Virgil speaketh of;


     Ignavum fucos pecus a praesepibus arcent.

That the usurer breaketh the first law, that was made for mankind after
the fall, which was, in sudore vultus tui comedes panem tuum; not, in
sudore vultus alieni. That usurers should have orange-tawny bonnets,
because they do judaize. That it is against nature for money to beget
money; and the like. I say this only, that usury is a concessum propter
duritiem cordis; for since there must be borrowing and lending, and
men are so hard of heart, as they will not lend freely, usury must be
permitted. Some others, have made suspicious and cunning propositions
of banks, discovery of men's estates, and other inventions. But few have
spoken of usury usefully. It is good to set before us, the incommodities
and commodities of usury, that the good, may be either weighed out or
culled out; and warily to provide, that while we make forth to that
which is better, we meet not with that which is worse.

The discommodities of usury are, First, that it makes fewer merchants.
For were it not for this lazy trade of usury, money would not be still,
but would in great part be employed upon merchandizing; which is
the vena porta of wealth in a state. The second, that it makes poor
merchants. For, as a farmer cannot husband his ground so well, if he sit
at a great rent; so the merchant cannot drive his trade so well, if he
sit at great usury. The third is incident to the other two; and that
is the decay of customs of kings or states, which ebb or flow, with
merchandizing. The fourth, that it bringeth the treasure of a realm, or
state, into a few hands. For the usurer being at certainties, and others
at uncertainties, at the end of the game, most of the money will be
in the box; and ever a state flourisheth, when wealth is more equally
spread. The fifth, that it beats down the price of land; for the
employment of money, is chiefly either merchandizing or purchasing;
and usury waylays both. The sixth, that it doth dull and damp all
industries, improvements, and new inventions, wherein money would be
stirring, if it were not for this slug. The last, that it is the canker
and ruin of many men's estates; which, in process of time, breeds a
public poverty.

On the other side, the commodities of usury are, first, that howsoever
usury in some respect hindereth merchandizing, yet in some other it
advanceth it; for it is certain that the greatest part of trade is
driven by young merchants, upon borrowing at interest; so as if the
usurer either call in, or keep back, his money, there will ensue,
presently, a great stand of trade. The second is, that were it not for
this easy borrowing upon interest, men's necessities would draw upon
them a most sudden undoing; in that they would be forced to sell their
means (be it lands or goods) far under foot; and so, whereas usury doth
but gnaw upon them, bad markets would swallow them quite up. As for
mortgaging or pawning, it will little mend the matter: for either men
will not take pawns without use; or if they do, they will look precisely
for the forfeiture. I remember a cruel moneyed man in the country, that
would say, The devil take this usury, it keeps us from forfeitures,
of mortgages and bonds. The third and last is, that it is a vanity to
conceive, that there would be ordinary borrowing without profit; and it
is impossible to conceive, the number of inconveniences that will ensue,
if borrowing be cramped. Therefore to speak of the abolishing of usury
is idle. All states have ever had it, in one kind or rate, or other. So
as that opinion must be sent to Utopia.

To speak now of the reformation, and reiglement, of usury; how the
discommodities of it may be best avoided, and the commodities retained.
It appears, by the balance of commodities and discommodities of usury,
two things are to be reconciled. The one, that the tooth of usury be
grinded, that it bite not too much; the other, that there be left open
a means, to invite moneyed men to lend to the merchants, for the
continuing and quickening of trade. This cannot be done, except you
introduce two several sorts of usury, a less and a greater. For if you
reduce usury to one low rate, it will ease the common borrower, but
the merchant will be to seek for money. And it is to be noted, that the
trade of merchandize, being the most lucrative, may bear usury at a good
rate; other contracts not so.

To serve both intentions, the way would be briefly thus. That there be
two rates of usury: the one free, and general for all; the other
under license only, to certain persons, and in certain places of
merchandizing. First, therefore, let usury in general, be reduced to
five in the hundred; and let that rate be proclaimed, to be free and
current; and let the state shut itself out, to take any penalty for the
same. This will preserve borrowing, from any general stop or dryness.
This will ease infinite borrowers in the country. This will, in good
part, raise the price of land, because land purchased at sixteen years'
purchase will yield six in the hundred, and somewhat more; whereas this
rate of interest, yields but five. This by like reason will encourage,
and edge, industrious and profitable improvements; because many will
rather venture in that kind, than take five in the hundred, especially
having been used to greater profit. Secondly, let there be certain
persons licensed, to lend to known merchants, upon usury at a higher
rate; and let it be with the cautions following. Let the rate be, even
with the merchant himself, somewhat more easy than that he used formerly
to pay; for by that means, all borrowers, shall have some ease by this
reformation, be he merchant, or whosoever. Let it be no bank or common
stock, but every man be master of his own money. Not that I altogether
mislike banks, but they will hardly be brooked, in regard of certain
suspicions. Let the state be answered some small matter for the license,
and the rest left to the lender; for if the abatement be but small,
it will no whit discourage the lender. For he, for example, that took
before ten or nine in the hundred, will sooner descend to eight in the
hundred than give over his trade of usury, and go from certain gains, to
gains of hazard. Let these licensed lenders be in number indefinite, but
restrained to certain principal cities and towns of merchandizing;
for then they will be hardly able to color other men's moneys in the
country: so as the license of nine will not suck away the current rate
of five; for no man will send his moneys far off, nor put them into
unknown hands.

If it be objected that this doth in a sort authorize usury, which
before, was in some places but permissive; the answer is, that it is
better to mitigate usury, by declaration, than to suffer it to rage, by
connivance.




Of Youth And Age


A MAN that is young in years, may be old in hours, if he have lost no
time. But that happeneth rarely. Generally, youth is like the first
cogitations, not so wise as the second. For there is a youth in
thoughts, as well as in ages. And yet the invention of young men, is
more lively than that of old; and imaginations stream into their minds
better, and, as it were, more divinely. Natures that have much heat, and
great and violent desires and perturbations, are not ripe for action,
till they have passed the meridian of their years; as it was with
Julius Caesar and Septimius Severus. Of the latter, of whom it is said,
Juventutem egit erroribus, imo furoribus, plenam. And yet he was the
ablest emperor, almost, of all the list. But reposed natures may do well
in youth. As it is seen in Augustus Caesar, Cosmus Duke of Florence,
Gaston de Foix, and others. On the other side, heat and vivacity in
age, is an excellent composition for business. Young men are fitter
to invent, than to judge; fitter for execution, than for counsel; and
fitter for new projects, than for settled business. For the experience
of age, in things that fall within the compass of it, directeth them;
but in new things, abuseth them.

The errors of young men, are the ruin of business; but the errors of
aged men, amount but to this, that more might have been done, or sooner.
Young men, in the conduct and manage of actions, embrace more than
they can hold; stir more than they can quiet; fly to the end, without
consideration of the means and degrees; pursue some few principles,
which they have chanced upon absurdly; care not to innovate, which draws
unknown inconveniences; use extreme remedies at first; and, that which
doubleth all errors, will not acknowledge or retract them; like an
unready horse, that will neither stop nor turn. Men of age object too
much, consult too long, adventure too little, repent too soon, and
seldom drive business home to the full period, but content themselves
with a mediocrity of success. Certainly it is good to compound
employments of both; for that will be good for the present, because the
virtues of either age, may correct the defects of both; and good for
succession, that young men may be learners, while men in age are actors;
and, lastly, good for extern accidents, because authority followeth old
men, and favor and popularity, youth. But for the moral part, perhaps
youth will have the pre-eminence, as age hath for the politic. A certain
rabbin, upon the text, Your young men shall see visions, and your old
men shall dream dreams, inferreth that young men, are admitted nearer to
God than old, because vision, is a clearer revelation, than a dream.
And certainly, the more a man drinketh of the world, the more it
intoxicateth; and age doth profit rather in the powers of understanding,
than in the virtues of the will and affections. There be some, have an
over-early ripeness in their years, which fadeth betimes. These are,
first, such as have brittle wits, the edge whereof is soon turned; such
as was Hermogenes the rhetorician, whose books are exceeding subtle;
who afterwards waxed stupid. A second sort, is of those that have some
natural dispositions which have better grace in youth, than in age; such
as is a fluent and luxuriant speech; which becomes youth well, but not
age: so Tully saith of Hortensius, Idem manebat, neque idem decebat.
The third is of such, as take too high a strain at the first, and
are magnanimous, more than tract of years can uphold. As was Scipio
Africanus, of whom Livy saith in effect, Ultima primis cedebant.




Of Beauty


VIRTUE is like a rich stone, best plain set; and surely virtue is best,
in a body that is comely, though not of delicate features; and that hath
rather dignity of presence, than beauty of aspect. Neither is it almost
seen, that very beautiful persons are otherwise of great virtue; as
if nature were rather busy, not to err, than in labor to produce
excellency. And therefore they prove accomplished, but not of great
spirit; and study rather behavior, than virtue. But this holds not
always: for Augustus Caesar, Titus Vespasianus, Philip le Belle of
France, Edward the Fourth of England, Alcibiades of Athens, Ismael
the Sophy of Persia, were all high and great spirits; and yet the most
beautiful men of their times. In beauty, that of favor, is more than
that of color; and that of decent and gracious motion, more than that of
favor. That is the best part of beauty, which a picture cannot express;
no, nor the first sight of the life. There is no excellent beauty, that
hath not some strangeness in the proportion. A man cannot tell whether
Apelles, or Albert Durer, were the more trifler; whereof the one, would
make a personage by geometrical proportions; the other, by taking the
best parts out of divers faces, to make one excellent. Such personages,
I think, would please nobody, but the painter that made them. Not but I
think a painter may make a better face than ever was; but he must do
it by a kind of felicity (as a musician that maketh an excellent air in
music), and not by rule. A man shall see faces, that if you examine them
part by part, you shall find never a good; and yet altogether do well.
If it be true that the principal part of beauty is in decent motion,
certainly it is no marvel, though persons in years seem many times more
amiable; pulchrorum autumnus pulcher; for no youth can be comely but by
pardon, and considering the youth, as to make up the comeliness. Beauty
is as summer fruits, which are easy to corrupt, and cannot last; and
for the most part it makes a dissolute youth, and an age a little out of
countenance; but yet certainly again, if it light well, it maketh virtue
shine, and vices blush.




Of Deformity


DEFORMED persons are commonly even with nature; for as nature hath
done ill by them, so do they by nature; being for the most part (as
the Scripture saith) void of natural affection; and so they have their
revenge of nature. Certainly there is a consent, between the body and
the mind; and where nature erreth in the one, she ventureth in the
other. Ubi peccat in uno, periclitatur in altero. But because there is,
in man, an election touching the frame of his mind, and a necessity in
the frame of his body, the stars of natural inclination are sometimes
obscured, by the sun of discipline and virtue. Therefore it is good to
consider of deformity, not as a sign, which is more deceivable; but as a
cause, which seldom faileth of the effect. Whosoever hath anything fixed
in his person, that doth induce contempt, hath also a perpetual spur
in himself, to rescue and deliver himself from scorn. Therefore all
deformed persons, are extreme bold. First, as in their own defence, as
being exposed to scorn; but in process of time, by a general habit. Also
it stirreth in them industry, and especially of this kind, to watch and
observe the weakness of others, that they may have somewhat to repay.
Again, in their superiors, it quencheth jealousy towards them, as
persons that they think they may, at pleasure, despise: and it layeth
their competitors and emulators asleep; as never believing they should
be in possibility of advancement, till they see them in possession.
So that upon the matter, in a great wit, deformity is an advantage to
rising. Kings in ancient times (and at this present in some countries)
were wont to put great trust in eunuchs; because they that are envious
towards all are more obnoxious and officious, towards one. But yet
their trust towards them, hath rather been as to good spials, and good
whisperers, than good magistrates and officers. And much like is the
reason of deformed persons. Still the ground is, they will, if they be
of spirit, seek to free themselves from scorn; which must be either by
virtue or malice; and therefore let it not be marvelled, if sometimes
they prove excellent persons; as was Agesilaus, Zanger the son of
Solyman, AEsop, Gasca, President of Peru; and Socrates may go likewise
amongst them; with others.




Of Building


HOUSES are built to live in, and not to look on; therefore let use be
preferred before uniformity, except where both may be had. Leave the
goodly fabrics of houses, for beauty only, to the enchanted palaces of
the poets; who build them with small cost. He that builds a fair house,
upon an ill seat, committeth himself to prison. Neither do I reckon it
an ill seat, only where the air is unwholesome; but likewise where the
air is unequal; as you shall see many fine seats set upon a knap of
ground, environed with higher hills round about it; whereby the heat
of the sun is pent in, and the wind gathereth as in troughs; so as you
shall have, and that suddenly, as great diversity of heat and cold as if
you dwelt in several places. Neither is it ill air only that maketh
an ill seat, but ill ways, ill markets; and, if you will consult with
Momus, ill neighbors. I speak not of many more; want of water; want of
wood, shade, and shelter; want of fruitfulness, and mixture of grounds
of several natures; want of prospect; want of level grounds; want of
places at some near distance for sports of hunting, hawking, and races;
too near the sea, too remote; having the commodity of navigable rivers,
or the discommodity of their overflowing; too far off from great
cities, which may hinder business, or too near them, which lurcheth all
provisions, and maketh everything dear; where a man hath a great living
laid together, and where he is scanted: all which, as it is impossible
perhaps to find together, so it is good to know them, and think of them,
that a man may take as many as he can; and if he have several dwellings,
that he sort them so that what he wanteth in the one, he may find in
the other. Lucullus answered Pompey well; who, when he saw his stately
galleries, and rooms so large and lightsome, in one of his houses, said,
Surely an excellent place for summer, but how do you in winter? Lucullus
answered, Why, do you not think me as wise as some fowl are, that ever
change their abode towards the winter?

To pass from the seat, to the house itself; we will do as Cicero doth
in the orator's art; who writes books De Oratore, and a book he entitles
Orator; whereof the former, delivers the precepts of the art, and the
latter, the perfection. We will therefore describe a princely palace,
making a brief model thereof. For it is strange to see, now in Europe,
such huge buildings as the Vatican and Escurial and some others be, and
yet scarce a very fair room in them.

First, therefore, I say you cannot have a perfect palace except you have
two several sides; a side for the banquet, as it is spoken of in the
book of Hester, and a side for the household; the one for feasts and
triumphs, and the other for dwelling. I understand both these sides to
be not only returns, but parts of the front; and to be uniform without,
though severally partitioned within; and to be on both sides of a great
and stately tower, in the midst of the front, that, as it were, joineth
them together on either hand. I would have on the side of the banquet,
in front, one only goodly room above stairs, of some forty foot high;
and under it a room for a dressing, or preparing place, at times of
triumphs. On the other side, which is the household side, I wish
it divided at the first, into a hall and a chapel (with a partition
between); both of good state and bigness; and those not to go all the
length, but to have at the further end, a winter and a summer parlor,
both fair. And under these rooms, a fair and large cellar, sunk under
ground; and likewise some privy kitchens, with butteries and pantries,
and the like. As for the tower, I would have it two stories, of eighteen
foot high apiece, above the two wings; and a goodly leads upon the
top, railed with statuas interposed; and the same tower to be divided
into rooms, as shall be thought fit. The stairs likewise to the upper
rooms, let them be upon a fair open newel, and finely railed in, with
images of wood, cast into a brass color; and a very fair landing-place
at the top. But this to be, if you do not point any of the lower rooms,
for a dining place of servants. For otherwise, you shall have the
servants' dinner after your own: for the steam of it, will come up as in
a tunnel. And so much for the front. Only I understand the height of the
first stairs to be sixteen foot, which is the height of the lower room.

Beyond this front, is there to be a fair court, but three sides of it,
of a far lower building than the front. And in all the four corners of
that court, fair staircases, cast into turrets, on the outside, and not
within the row of buildings themselves. But those towers, are not to
be of the height of the front, but rather proportionable to the lower
building. Let the court not be paved, for that striketh up a great heat
in summer, and much cold in winter. But only some side alleys, with a
cross, and the quarters to graze, being kept shorn, but not too near
shorn. The row of return on the banquet side, let it be all stately
galleries: in which galleries let there be three, or five, fine cupolas
in the length of it, placed at equal distance; and fine  windows
of several works. On the household side, chambers of presence and
ordinary entertainments, with some bed-chambers; and let all three sides
be a double house, without thorough lights on the sides, that you may
have rooms from the sun, both for forenoon and afternoon. Cast it also,
that you may have rooms, both for summer and winter; shady for summer,
and warm for winter. You shall have sometimes fair houses so full of
glass, that one cannot tell where to become, to be out of the sun or
cold. For inbowed windows, I hold them of good use (in cities, indeed,
upright do better, in respect of the uniformity towards the street); for
they be pretty retiring places for conference; and besides, they keep
both the wind and sun off; for that which would strike almost through
the room, doth scarce pass the window. But let them be but few, four in
the court, on the sides only.

Beyond this court, let there be an inward court, of the same square and
height; which is to be environed with the garden on all sides; and in
the inside, cloistered on all sides, upon decent and beautiful arches,
as high as the first story. On the under story, towards the garden, let
it be turned to a grotto, or a place of shade, or estivation. And only
have opening and windows towards the garden; and be level upon the
floor, no whit sunken under ground, to avoid all dampishness. And let
there be a fountain, or some fair work of statuas, in the midst of this
court; and to be paved as the other court was. These buildings to be for
privy lodgings on both sides; and the end for privy galleries. Whereof
you must foresee that one of them be for an infirmary, if the prince
or any special person should be sick, with chambers, bed-chamber,
antecamera, and recamera joining to it. This upon the second story. Upon
the ground story, a fair gallery, open, upon pillars; and upon the third
story likewise, an open gallery, upon pillars, to take the prospect and
freshness of the garden. At both corners of the further side, by way
of return, let there be two delicate or rich cabinets, daintily paved,
richly hanged, glazed with crystalline glass, and a rich cupola in the
midst; and all other elegancy that may be thought upon. In the upper
gallery too, I wish that there may be, if the place will yield it,
some fountains running in divers places from the wall, with some fine
avoidances. And thus much for the model of the palace; save that you
must have, before you come to the front, three courts. A green court
plain, with a wall about it; a second court of the same, but more
garnished, with little turrets, or rather embellishments, upon the wall;
and a third court, to make a square with the front, but not to be built,
nor yet enclosed with a naked wall, but enclosed with terraces, leaded
aloft, and fairly garnished, on the three sides; and cloistered on the
inside, with pillars, and not with arches below. As for offices, let
them stand at distance, with some low galleries, to pass from them to
the palace itself.




Of Gardens


GOD Almighty first planted a garden. And indeed it is the purest of
human pleasures. It is the greatest refreshment to the spirits of man;
without which, buildings and palaces are but gross handiworks; and a man
shall ever see, that when ages grow to civility and elegancy, men come
to build stately sooner than to garden finely; as if gardening were
the greater perfection. I do hold it, in the royal ordering of gardens,
there ought to be gardens, for all the months in the year; in which
severally things of beauty may be then in season. For December, and
January, and the latter part of November, you must take such things as
are green all winter: holly; ivy; bays; juniper; cypress-trees; yew;
pine-apple-trees; fir-trees; rosemary; lavender; periwinkle, the white,
the purple, and the blue; germander; flags; orange-trees; lemon-trees;
and myrtles, if they be stoved; and sweet marjoram, warm set.
There followeth, for the latter part of January and February, the
mezereon-tree, which then blossoms; crocus vernus, both the yellow and
the grey; primroses, anemones; the early tulippa; hyacinthus orientalis;
chamairis; fritellaria. For March, there come violets, specially the
single blue, which are the earliest; the yellow daffodil; the daisy; the
almond-tree in blossom; the peach-tree in blossom; the cornelian-tree
in blossom; sweet-briar. In April follow the double white violet; the
wallflower; the stock-gilliflower; the cowslip; flowerdelices, and
lilies of all natures; rosemary-flowers; the tulippa; the double peony;
the pale daffodil; the French honeysuckle; the cherry-tree in blossom;
the damson and plum-trees in blossom; the white thorn in leaf; the
lilac-tree. In May and June come pinks of all sorts, specially the
blushpink; roses of all kinds, except the musk, which comes later;
honeysuckles; strawberries; bugloss; columbine; the French marigold,
flos Africanus; cherry-tree in fruit; ribes; figs in fruit; rasps;
vineflowers; lavender in flowers; the sweet satyrian, with the white
flower; herba muscaria; lilium convallium; the apple-tree in blossom.
In July come gilliflowers of all varieties; musk-roses; the lime-tree in
blossom; early pears and plums in fruit; jennetings, codlins. In
August come plums of all sorts in fruit; pears; apricocks; berberries;
filberds; musk-melons; monks-hoods, of all colors. In September come
grapes; apples; poppies of all colors; peaches; melocotones; nectarines;
cornelians; wardens; quinces. In October and the beginning of November
come services; medlars; bullaces; roses cut or removed to come late;
hollyhocks; and such like. These particulars are for the climate of
London; but my meaning is perceived, that you may have ver perpetuum, as
the place affords.

And because the breath of flowers is far sweeter in the air (where it
comes and goes like the warbling of music) than in the hand, therefore
nothing is more fit for that delight, than to know what be the flowers
and plants that do best perfume the air. Roses, damask and red, are fast
flowers of their smells; so that you may walk by a whole row of them,
and find nothing of their sweetness; yea though it be in a morning's
dew. Bays likewise yield no smell as they grow. Rosemary little; nor
sweet marjoram. That which above all others yields the sweetest smell
in the air is the violet, specially the white double violet, which comes
twice a year; about the middle of April, and about Bartholomew-tide.
Next to that is the musk-rose. Then the strawberry-leaves dying, which
yield a most excellent cordial smell. Then the flower of vines; it is
a little dust, like the dust of a bent, which grows upon the cluster in
the first coming forth. Then sweet-briar. Then wall-flowers, which are
very delightful to be set under a parlor or lower chamber window.
Then pinks and gilliflowers, especially the matted pink and clove
gilliflower. Then the flowers of the lime-tree. Then the honeysuckles,
so they be somewhat afar off. Of beanflowers I speak not, because they
are field flowers. But those which perfume the air most delightfully,
not passed by as the rest, but being trodden upon and crushed, are
three; that is, burnet, wildthyme, and watermints. Therefore you are to
set whole alleys of them, to have the pleasure when you walk or tread.

For gardens (speaking of those which are indeed princelike, as we have
done of buildings), the contents ought not well to be under thirty acres
of ground; and to be divided into three parts; a green in the entrance;
a heath or desert in the going forth; and the main garden in the midst;
besides alleys on both sides. And I like well that four acres of ground
be assigned to the green; six to the heath; four and four to either
side; and twelve to the main garden. The green hath two pleasures: the
one, because nothing is more pleasant to the eye than green grass kept
finely shorn; the other, because it will give you a fair alley in the
midst, by which you may go in front upon a stately hedge, which is to
enclose the garden. But because the alley will be long, and, in great
heat of the year or day, you ought not to buy the shade in the garden,
by going in the sun through the green, therefore you are, of either side
the green, to plant a covert alley upon carpenter's work, about twelve
foot in height, by which you may go in shade into the garden. As for the
making of knots or figures, with divers  earths, that they may
lie under the windows of the house on that side which the garden stands,
they be but toys; you may see as good sights, many times, in tarts. The
garden is best to be square, encompassed on all the four sides with a
stately arched hedge. The arches to be upon pillars of carpenter's work,
of some ten foot high, and six foot broad; and the spaces between of the
same dimension with the breadth of the arch. Over the arches let there
be an entire hedge of some four foot high, framed also upon carpenter's
work; and upon the upper hedge, over every arch, a little turret, with
a belly, enough to receive a cage of birds: and over every space between
the arches some other little figure, with broad plates of round 
glass gilt, for the sun to play upon. But this hedge I intend to be
raised upon a bank, not steep, but gently <DW72>, of some six foot, set
all with flowers. Also I understand, that this square of the garden,
should not be the whole breadth of the ground, but to leave on either
side, ground enough for diversity of side alleys; unto which the two
covert alleys of the green, may deliver you. But there must be no alleys
with hedges, at either end of this great enclosure; not at the hither
end, for letting your prospect upon this fair hedge from the green; nor
at the further end, for letting your prospect from the hedge, through
the arches upon the heath.

For the ordering of the ground, within the great hedge, I leave it to
variety of device; advising nevertheless, that whatsoever form you cast
it into, first, it be not too busy, or full of work. Wherein I, for my
part, do not like images cut out in juniper or other garden stuff; they
be for children. Little low hedges, round, like welts, with some pretty
pyramids, I like well; and in some places, fair columns upon frames of
carpenter's work. I would also have the alleys, spacious and fair. You
may have closer alleys, upon the side grounds, but none in the main
garden. I wish also, in the very middle, a fair mount, with three
ascents, and alleys, enough for four to walk abreast; which I would
have to be perfect circles, without any bulwarks or embossments; and the
whole mount to be thirty foot high; and some fine banqueting-house, with
some chimneys neatly cast, and without too much glass.

For fountains, they are a great beauty and refreshment; but pools mar
all, and make the garden unwholesome, and full of flies and frogs.
Fountains I intend to be of two natures: the one that sprinkleth or
spouteth water; the other a fair receipt of water, of some thirty or
forty foot square, but without fish, or slime, or mud. For the first,
the ornaments of images gilt, or of marble, which are in use, do well:
but the main matter is so to convey the water, as it never stay,
either in the bowls or in the cistern; that the water be never by
rest discolored, green or red or the like; or gather any mossiness or
putrefaction. Besides that, it is to be cleansed every day by the hand.
Also some steps up to it, and some fine pavement about it, doth well. As
for the other kind of fountain, which we may call a bathing pool, it
may admit much curiosity and beauty; wherewith we will not trouble
ourselves: as, that the bottom be finely paved, and with images; the
sides likewise; and withal embellished with  glass, and such
things of lustre; encompassed also with fine rails of low statuas. But
the main point is the same which we mentioned in the former kind of
fountain; which is, that the water be in perpetual motion, fed by a
water higher than the pool, and delivered into it by fair spouts, and
then discharged away under ground, by some equality of bores, that it
stay little. And for fine devices, of arching water without spilling,
and making it rise in several forms (of feathers, drinking glasses,
canopies, and the like), they be pretty things to look on, but nothing
to health and sweetness.

For the heath, which was the third part of our plot, I wish it to be
framed, as much as may be, to a natural wildness. Trees I would have
none in it, but some thickets made only of sweet-briar and honeysuckle,
and some wild vine amongst; and the ground set with violets,
strawberries, and primroses. For these are sweet, and prosper in the
shade. And these to be in the heath, here and there, not in any order. I
like also little heaps, in the nature of mole-hills (such as are in wild
heaths), to be set, some with wild thyme; some with pinks; some with
germander, that gives a good flower to the eye; some with periwinkle;
some with violets; some with strawberries; some with cowslips; some with
daisies; some with red roses; some with lilium convallium; some with
sweet-williams red; some with bear's-foot: and the like low flowers,
being withal sweet and sightly. Part of which heaps, are to be with
standards of little bushes pricked upon their top, and part without. The
standards to be roses; juniper; holly; berberries (but here and there,
because of the smell of their blossoms); red currants; gooseberries;
rosemary; bays; sweetbriar; and such like. But these standards to be
kept with cutting, that they grow not out of course.

For the side grounds, you are to fill them with variety of alleys,
private, to give a full shade, some of them, wheresoever the sun be.
You are to frame some of them, likewise, for shelter, that when the
wind blows sharp you may walk as in a gallery. And those alleys must
be likewise hedged at both ends, to keep out the wind; and these closer
alleys must be ever finely gravelled, and no grass, because of going
wet. In many of these alleys, likewise, you are to set fruit-trees
of all sorts; as well upon the walls, as in ranges. And this would be
generally observed, that the borders wherein you plant your fruit-trees,
be fair and large, and low, and not steep; and set with fine flowers,
but thin and sparingly, lest they deceive the trees. At the end of both
the side grounds, I would have a mount of some pretty height, leaving
the wall of the enclosure breast high, to look abroad into the fields.

For the main garden, I do not deny, but there should be some fair
alleys ranged on both sides, with fruit-trees; and some pretty tufts of
fruit-trees, and arbors with seats, set in some decent order; but these
to be by no means set too thick; but to leave the main garden so as it
be not close, but the air open and free. For as for shade, I would have
you rest upon the alleys of the side grounds, there to walk, if you be
disposed, in the heat of the year or day; but to make account, that the
main garden is for the more temperate parts of the year; and in the heat
of summer, for the morning and the evening, or overcast days.

For aviaries, I like them not, except they be of that largeness as they
may be turfed, and have living plants and bushes set in them; that the
birds may have more scope, and natural nesting, and that no foulness
appear in the floor of the aviary. So I have made a platform of a
princely garden, partly by precept, partly by drawing, not a model, but
some general lines of it; and in this I have spared for no cost. But it
is nothing for great princes, that for the most part taking advice with
workmen, with no less cost set their things together; and sometimes add
statuas and such things for state and magnificence, but nothing to the
true pleasure of a garden.




Of Negotiating


IT IS generally better to deal by speech than by letter; and by the
mediation of a third than by a man's self. Letters are good, when a man
would draw an answer by letter back again; or when it may serve for a
man's justification afterwards to produce his own letter; or where it
may be danger to be interrupted, or heard by pieces. To deal in person
is good, when a man's face breedeth regard, as commonly with inferiors;
or in tender cases, where a man's eye, upon the countenance of him with
whom he speaketh, may give him a direction how far to go; and generally,
where a man will reserve to himself liberty, either to disavow or to
expound. In choice of instruments, it is better to choose men of a
plainer sort, that are like to do that, that is committed to them,
and to report back again faithfully the success, than those that are
cunning, to contrive, out of other men's business, somewhat to grace
themselves, and will help the matter in report for satisfaction's sake.
Use also such persons as affect the business, wherein they are employed;
for that quickeneth much; and such, as are fit for the matter; as bold
men for expostulation, fair-spoken men for persuasion, crafty men for
inquiry and observation, froward, and absurd men, for business that
doth not well bear out itself. Use also such as have been lucky, and
prevailed before, in things wherein you have employed them; for that
breeds confidence, and they will strive to maintain their prescription.
It is better to sound a person, with whom one deals afar off, than to
fall upon the point at first; except you mean to surprise him by some
short question. It is better dealing with men in appetite, than with
those that are where they would be. If a man deal with another upon
conditions, the start or first performance is all; which a man cannot
reasonably demand, except either the nature of the thing be such, which
must go before; or else a man can persuade the other party, that he
shall still need him in some other thing; or else that he be counted
the honester man. All practice is to discover, or to work. Men discover
themselves in trust, in passion, at unawares, and of necessity, when
they would have somewhat done, and cannot find an apt pretext. If you
would work any man, you must either know his nature and fashions, and
so lead him; or his ends, and so persuade him; or his weakness and
disadvantages, and so awe him; or those that have interest in him, and
so govern him. In dealing with cunning persons, we must ever consider
their ends, to interpret their speeches; and it is good to say little
to them, and that which they least look for. In all negotiations of
difficulty, a man may not look to sow and reap at once; but must prepare
business, and so ripen it by degrees.




Of Followers And Friends


COSTLY followers are not to be liked; lest while a man maketh his train
longer, he make his wings shorter. I reckon to be costly, not them alone
which charge the purse, but which are wearisome, and importune in
suits. Ordinary followers ought to challenge no higher conditions,
than countenance, recommendation, and protection from wrongs. Factious
followers are worse to be liked, which follow not upon affection to
him, with whom they range themselves, but upon discontentment conceived
against some other; whereupon commonly ensueth that ill intelligence,
that we many times see between great personages. Likewise glorious
followers, who make themselves as trumpets of the commendation of those
they follow, are full of inconvenience; for they taint business through
want of secrecy; and they export honor from a man, and make him a return
in envy. There is a kind of followers likewise, which are dangerous,
being indeed espials; which inquire the secrets of the house, and bear
tales of them, to others. Yet such men, many times, are in great favor;
for they are officious, and commonly exchange tales. The following by
certain estates of men, answerable to that, which a great person himself
professeth (as of soldiers, to him that hath been employed in the wars,
and the like), hath ever been a thing civil, and well taken, even in
monarchies; so it be without too much pomp or popularity. But the most
honorable kind of following, is to be followed as one, that apprehendeth
to advance virtue, and desert, in all sorts of persons. And yet, where
there is no eminent odds in sufficiency, it is better to take with the
more passable, than with the more able. And besides, to speak truth, in
base times, active men are of more use than virtuous. It is true that
in government, it is good to use men of one rank equally: for to
countenance some extraordinarily, is to make them insolent, and the rest
discontent; because they may claim a due. But contrariwise, in favor,
to use men with much difference and election is good; for it maketh the
persons preferred more thankful, and the rest more officious: because
all is of favor. It is good discretion, not to make too much of any
man at the first; because one cannot hold out that proportion. To be
governed (as we call it) by one is not safe; for it shows softness, and
gives a freedom, to scandal and disreputation; for those, that would
not censure or speak ill of a man immediately, will talk more boldly of
those that are so great with them, and thereby wound their honor. Yet
to be distracted with many is worse; for it makes men to be of the last
impression, and full of change. To take advice of some few friends, is
ever honorable; for lookers-on many times see more than gamesters; and
the vale best discovereth the hill. There is little friendship in the
world, and least of all between equals, which was wont to be magnified.
That that is, is between superior and inferior, whose fortunes may
comprehend the one the other.




Of Suitors


MANY ill matters and projects are undertaken; and private suits do
putrefy the public good. Many good matters, are undertaken with bad
minds; I mean not only corrupt minds, but crafty minds, that intend not
performance. Some embrace suits, which never mean to deal effectually
in them; but if they see there may be life in the matter, by some other
mean, they will be content to win a thank, or take a second reward, or
at least to make use, in the meantime, of the suitor's hopes. Some take
hold of suits, only for an occasion to cross some other; or to make an
information, whereof they could not otherwise have apt pretext; without
care what become of the suit, when that turn is served; or, generally,
to make other men's business a kind of entertainment, to bring in their
own. Nay, some undertake suits, with a full purpose to let them fall; to
the end to gratify the adverse party, or competitor. Surely there is in
some sort a right in every suit; either a right of equity, if it be a
suit of controversy; or a right of desert, if it be a suit of petition.
If affection lead a man to favor the wrong side in justice, let him
rather use his countenance to compound the matter, than to carry it. If
affection lead a man to favor the less worthy in desert, let him do it,
without depraving or disabling the better deserver. In suits which a
man doth not well understand, it is good to refer them to some friend
of trust and judgment, that may report, whether he may deal in them with
honor: but let him choose well his referendaries, for else he may be led
by the nose. Suitors are so distasted with delays and abuses, that plain
dealing, in denying to deal in suits at first, and reporting the success
barely, and in challenging no more thanks than one hath deserved, is
grown not only honorable, but also gracious. In suits of favor, the
first coming ought to take little place: so far forth, consideration
may be had of his trust, that if intelligence of the matter could not
otherwise have been had, but by him, advantage be not taken of the note,
but the party left to his other means; and in some sort recompensed, for
his discovery. To be ignorant of the value of a suit, is simplicity;
as well as to be ignorant of the right thereof, is want of conscience.
Secrecy in suits, is a great mean of obtaining; for voicing them to be
in forwardness, may discourage some kind of suitors, but doth quicken
and awake others. But timing of the suit is the principal. Timing, I
say, not only in respect of the person that should grant it, but in
respect of those, which are like to cross it. Let a man, in the choice
of his mean, rather choose the fittest mean, than the greatest mean; and
rather them that deal in certain things, than those that are general.
The reparation of a denial, is sometimes equal to the first grant; if
a man show himself neither dejected nor discontented. Iniquum petas ut
aequum feras is a good rule, where a man hath strength of favor: but
otherwise, a man were better rise in his suit; for he, that would have
ventured at first to have lost the suitor, will not in the conclusion
lose both the suitor, and his own former favor. Nothing is thought so
easy a request to a great person, as his letter; and yet, if it be not
in a good cause, it is so much out of his reputation. There are no worse
instruments, than these general contrivers of suits; for they are but a
kind of poison, and infection, to public proceedings.




Of Studies


STUDIES serve for delight, for ornament, and for ability. Their chief
use for delight, is in privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in
discourse; and for ability, is in the judgment, and disposition of
business. For expert men can execute, and perhaps judge of particulars,
one by one; but the general counsels, and the plots and marshalling of
affairs, come best, from those that are learned. To spend too much time
in studies is sloth; to use them too much for ornament, is affectation;
to make judgment wholly by their rules, is the humor of a scholar. They
perfect nature, and are perfected by experience: for natural abilities
are like natural plants, that need proyning, by study; and studies
themselves, do give forth directions too much at large, except they be
bounded in by experience. Crafty men contemn studies, simple men admire
them, and wise men use them; for they teach not their own use; but that
is a wisdom without them, and above them, won by observation. Read not
to contradict and confute; nor to believe and take for granted; nor to
find talk and discourse; but to weigh and consider. Some books are to be
tasted, others to be swallowed, and some few to be chewed and digested;
that is, some books are to be read only in parts; others to be read, but
not curiously; and some few to be read wholly, and with diligence and
attention. Some books also may be read by deputy, and extracts made of
them by others; but that would be only in the less important arguments,
and the meaner sort of books, else distilled books are like common
distilled waters, flashy things. Reading maketh a full man; conference
a ready man; and writing an exact man. And therefore, if a man write
little, he had need have a great memory; if he confer little, he had
need have a present wit: and if he read little, he had need have much
cunning, to seem to know, that he doth not. Histories make men wise;
poets witty; the mathematics subtile; natural philosophy deep; moral
grave; logic and rhetoric able to contend. Abeunt studia in mores. Nay,
there is no stond or impediment in the wit, but may be wrought out
by fit studies; like as diseases of the body, may have appropriate
exercises. Bowling is good for the stone and reins; shooting for the
lungs and breast; gentle walking for the stomach; riding for the
head; and the like. So if a man's wit be wandering, let him study the
mathematics; for in demonstrations, if his wit be called away never so
little, he must begin again. If his wit be not apt to distinguish or
find differences, let him study the Schoolmen; for they are cymini
sectores. If he be not apt to beat over matters, and to call up one
thing to prove and illustrate another, let him study the lawyers'
cases. So every defect of the mind, may have a special receipt.




Of Faction


MANY have an opinion not wise, that for a prince to govern his estate,
or for a great person to govern his proceedings, according to
the respect of factions, is a principal part of policy; whereas
contrariwise, the chiefest wisdom, is either in ordering those things
which are general, and wherein men of several factions do nevertheless
agree; or in dealing with correspondence to particular persons, one
by one. But I say not that the considerations of factions, is to be
neglected. Mean men, in their rising, must adhere; but great men,
that have strength in themselves, were better to maintain themselves
indifferent, and neutral. Yet even in beginners, to adhere so
moderately, as he be a man of the one faction, which is most passable
with the other, commonly giveth best way. The lower and weaker faction,
is the firmer in conjunction; and it is often seen, that a few that are
stiff, do tire out a greater number, that are more moderate. When one of
the factions is extinguished, the remaining subdivideth; as the faction
between Lucullus, and the rest of the nobles of the senate (which they
called Optimates) held out awhile, against the faction of Pompey and
Caesar; but when the senate's authority was pulled down, Caesar and
Pompey soon after brake. The faction or party of Antonius and Octavianus
Caesar, against Brutus and Cassius, held out likewise for a time; but
when Brutus and Cassius were overthrown, then soon after, Antonius and
Octavianus brake and subdivided. These examples are of wars, but the
same holdeth in private factions. And therefore, those that are
seconds in factions, do many times, when the faction subdivideth, prove
principals; but many times also, they prove ciphers and cashiered;
for many a man's strength is in opposition; and when that faileth, he
groweth out of use. It is commonly seen, that men, once placed, take in
with the contrary faction, to that by which they enter: thinking belike,
that they have the first sure, and now are ready for a new purchase. The
traitor in faction, lightly goeth away with it; for when matters have
stuck long in balancing, the winning of some one man casteth them,
and he getteth all the thanks. The even carriage between two factions,
proceedeth not always of moderation, but of a trueness to a man's self,
with end to make use of both. Certainly in Italy, they hold it a little
suspect in popes, when they have often in their mouth Padre commune: and
take it to be a sign of one, that meaneth to refer all to the greatness
of his own house. Kings had need beware, how they side themselves, and
make themselves as of a faction or party; for leagues within the
state, are ever pernicious to monarchies: for they raise an obligation,
paramount to obligation of sovereignty, and make the king tanquam unus
ex nobis; as was to be seen in the League of France. When factions are
carried too high and too violently, it is a sign of weakness in princes;
and much to the prejudice, both of their authority and business. The
motions of factions under kings ought to be, like the motions (as the
astronomers speak) of the inferior orbs, which may have their proper
motions, but yet still are quietly carried, by the higher motion of
primum mobile.




Of Ceremonies, And Respects


HE THAT is only real, had need have exceeding great parts of virtue; as
the stone had need to be rich, that is set without foil. But if a man
mark it well, it is, in praise and commendation of men, as it is in
gettings and gains: for the proverb is true, That light gains make heavy
purses; for light gains come thick, whereas great, come but now and
then. So it is true, that small matters win great commendation, because
they are continually in use and in note: whereas the occasion of any
great virtue, cometh but on festivals. Therefore it doth much add to a
man's reputation, and is (as Queen Isabella said) like perpetual letters
commendatory, to have good forms. To attain them, it almost sufficeth
not to despise them; for so shall a man observe them in others; and let
him trust himself with the rest. For if he labor too much to express
them, he shall lose their grace; which is to be natural and unaffected.
Some men's behavior is like a verse, wherein every syllable is measured;
how can a man comprehend great matters, that breaketh his mind too much,
to small observations? Not to use ceremonies at all, is to teach others
not to use them again; and so diminisheth respect to himself; especially
they be not to be omitted, to strangers and formal natures; but the
dwelling upon them, and exalting them above the moon, is not only
tedious, but doth diminish the faith and credit of him that speaks. And
certainly, there is a kind of conveying, of effectual and imprinting
passages amongst compliments, which is of singular use, if a man can hit
upon it. Amongst a man's peers, a man shall be sure of familiarity; and
therefore it is good, a little to keep state. Amongst a man's inferiors
one shall be sure of reverence; and therefore it is good, a little to
be familiar. He that is too much in anything, so that he giveth another
occasion of satiety, maketh himself cheap. To apply one's self to
others, is good; so it be with demonstration, that a man doth it upon
regard, and not upon facility. It is a good precept generally, in
seconding another, yet to add somewhat of one's own: as if you will
grant his opinion, let it be with some distinction; if you will follow
his motion, let it be with condition; if you allow his counsel, let it
be with alleging further reason. Men had need beware, how they be too
perfect in compliments; for be they never so sufficient otherwise, their
enviers will be sure to give them that attribute, to the disadvantage
of their greater virtues. It is loss also in business, to be too full
of respects, or to be curious, in observing times and opportunities.
Solomon saith, He that considereth the wind, shall not sow, and he
that looketh to the clouds, shall not reap. A wise man will make more
opportunities, than he finds. Men's behavior should be, like their
apparel, not too strait or point device, but free for exercise or
motion.




Of Praise


PRAISE is the reflection of virtue; but it is as the glass or body,
which giveth the reflection. If it be from the common people, it is
commonly false and naught; and rather followeth vain persons, than
virtuous. For the common people understand not many excellent virtues.
The lowest virtues draw praise from them; the middle virtues work in
them astonishment or admiration; but of the highest virtues, they
have no sense of perceiving at all. But shows, and species virtutibus
similes, serve best with them. Certainly fame is like a river, that
beareth up things light and swoln, and drowns things weighty and solid.
But if persons of quality and judgment concur, then it is (as the
Scripture saith) nomen bonum instar unguenti fragrantis. It fireth all
round about, and will not easily away. For the odors of ointments are
more durable, than those of flowers. There be so many false points of
praise, that a man may justly hold it a suspect. Some praises proceed
merely of flattery; and if he be an ordinary flatterer, he will have
certain common attributes, which may serve every man; if he be a cunning
flatterer, he will follow the archflatterer, which is a man's self;
and wherein a man thinketh best of himself, therein the flatterer will
uphold him most: but if he be an impudent flatterer, look wherein a man
is conscious to himself, that he is most defective, and is most out of
countenance in himself, that will the flatterer entitle him to perforce,
spreta conscientia. Some praises come of good wishes and respects,
which is a form due, in civility, to kings and great persons, laudando
praecipere, when by telling men what they are, they represent to them,
what they should be. Some men are praised maliciously, to their
hurt, thereby to stir envy and jealousy towards them: pessimum genus
inimicorum laudantium; insomuch as it was a proverb, amongst the
Grecians, that he that was praised to his hurt, should have a push rise
upon his nose; as we say, that a blister will rise upon one's tongue,
that tells a lie. Certainly moderate praise, used with opportunity, and
not vulgar, is that which doth the good. Solomon saith, He that praiseth
his friend aloud, rising early, it shall be to him no better than
a curse. Too much magnifying of man or matter, doth irritate
contradiction, and procure envy and scorn. To praise a man's self,
cannot be decent, except it be in rare cases; but to praise a man's
office or profession, he may do it with good grace, and with a kind of
magnanimity. The cardinals of Rome, which are theologues, and friars,
and Schoolmen, have a phrase of notable contempt and scorn towards
civil business: for they call all temporal business of wars,
embassages, judicature, and other employments, sbirrerie, which is
under-sheriffries; as if they were but matters, for under-sheriffs and
catchpoles: though many times those under-sheriffries do more good, than
their high speculations. St. Paul, when he boasts of himself, he doth
oft interlace, I speak like a fool; but speaking of his calling, he
saith, magnificabo apostolatum meum.




Of Vain-glory


IT WAS prettily devised of AEsop, The fly sat upon the axle-tree of the
chariot wheel, and said, What a dust do I raise! So are there some vain
persons, that whatsoever goeth alone, or moveth upon greater means, if
they have never so little hand in it, they think it is they that carry
it. They that are glorious, must needs be factious; for all bravery
stands upon comparisons. They must needs be violent, to make good their
own vaunts. Neither can they be secret, and therefore not effectual; but
according to the French proverb, Beaucoup de bruit, peu de fruit; Much
bruit little fruit. Yet certainly, there is use of this quality in civil
affairs. Where there is an opinion and fame to be created, either of
virtue or greatness, these men are good trumpeters. Again, as Titus
Livius noteth, in the case of Antiochus and the AEtolians, There are
sometimes great effects, of cross lies; as if a man, that negotiates
between two princes, to draw them to join in a war against the third,
doth extol the forces of either of them, above measure, the one to the
other: and sometimes he that deals between man and man, raiseth his own
credit with both, by pretending greater interest than he hath in either.
And in these and the like kinds, it often falls out, that somewhat
is produced of nothing; for lies are sufficient to breed opinion,
and opinion brings on substance. In militar commanders and soldiers,
vain-glory is an essential point; for as iron sharpens iron, so by
glory, one courage sharpeneth another. In cases of great enterprise upon
charge and adventure, a composition of glorious natures, doth put life
into business; and those that are of solid and sober natures, have more
of the ballast, than of the sail. In fame of learning, the flight will
be slow without some feathers of ostentation. Qui de contemnenda gloria
libros scribunt, nomen, suum inscribunt. Socrates, Aristotle, Galen,
were men full of ostentation. Certainly vain-glory helpeth to perpetuate
a man's memory; and virtue was never so beholding to human nature, as
it received his due at the second hand. Neither had the fame of Cicero,
Seneca, Plinius Secundus, borne her age so well, if it had not been
joined with some vanity in themselves; like unto varnish, that makes
ceilings not only shine but last. But all this while, when I speak of
vain-glory, I mean not of that property, that Tacitus doth attribute
to Mucianus; Omnium quae dixerat feceratque arte quadam ostentator: for
that proceeds not of vanity, but of natural magnanimity and discretion;
and in some persons, is not only comely, but gracious. For excusations,
cessions, modesty itself well governed, are but arts of ostentation.
And amongst those arts, there is none better than that which Plinius
Secundus speaketh of, which is to be liberal of praise and commendation
to others, in that, wherein a man's self hath any perfection. For saith
Pliny, very wittily, In commending another, you do yourself right; for
he that you commend, is either superior to you in that you commend, or
inferior. If he be inferior, if he be to be commended, you much more;
if he be superior, if he be not to be commended, you much less. Glorious
men are the scorn of wise men, the admiration of fools, the idols of
parasites, and the slaves of their own vaunts.




Of Honor And Reputation


THE winning of honor, is but the revealing of a man's virtue and worth,
without disadvantage. For some in their actions, do woo and effect honor
and reputation, which sort of men, are commonly much talked of, but
inwardly little admired. And some, contrariwise, darken their virtue in
the show of it; so as they be undervalued in opinion. If a man perform
that, which hath not been attempted before; or attempted and given
over; or hath been achieved, but not with so good circumstance; he shall
purchase more honor, than by effecting a matter of greater difficulty or
virtue, wherein he is but a follower. If a man so temper his actions,
as in some one of them he doth content every faction, or combination
of people, the music will be the fuller. A man is an ill husband of his
honor, that entereth into any action, the failing wherein may disgrace
him, more than the carrying of it through, can honor him. Honor that
is gained and broken upon another, hath the quickest reflection, like
diamonds cut with facets. And therefore, let a man contend to excel any
competitors of his in honor, in outshooting them, if he can, in their
own bow. Discreet followers and servants, help much to reputation. Omnis
fama a domesticis emanat. Envy, which is the canker of honor, is best
extinguished by declaring a man's self in his ends, rather to seek
merit than fame; and by attributing a man's successes, rather to divine
Providence and felicity, than to his own virtue or policy.

The true marshalling of the degrees of sovereign honor, are these:
In the first place are conditores imperiorum, founders of states and
commonwealths; such as were Romulus, Cyrus, Caesar, Ottoman, Ismael.
In the second place are legislatores, lawgivers; which are also called
second founders, or perpetui principes, because they govern by their
ordinances after they are gone; such were Lycurgus, Solon, Justinian,
Eadgar, Alphonsus of Castile, the Wise, that made the Siete Partidas.
In the third place are liberatores, or salvatores, such as compound the
long miseries of civil wars, or deliver their countries from servitude
of strangers or tyrants; as Augustus Caesar, Vespasianus, Aurelianus,
Theodoricus, King Henry the Seventh of England, King Henry the Fourth of
France. In the fourth place are propagatores or propugnatores imperii;
such as in honorable wars enlarge their territories, or make noble
defence against invaders. And in the last place are patres patriae;
which reign justly, and make the times good wherein they live. Both
which last kinds need no examples, they are in such number. Degrees
of honor, in subjects, are, first participes curarum, those upon whom,
princes do discharge the greatest weight of their affairs; their right
hands, as we call them. The next are duces belli, great leaders in war;
such as are princes' lieutenants, and do them notable services in
the wars. The third are gratiosi, favorites; such as exceed not this
scantling, to be solace to the sovereign, and harmless to the people.
And the fourth, negotiis pares; such as have great places under princes,
and execute their places, with sufficiency. There is an honor, likewise,
which may be ranked amongst the greatest, which happeneth rarely; that
is, of such as sacrifice themselves to death or danger for the good of
their country; as was M. Regulus, and the two Decii.




Of Judicature


JUDGES ought to remember, that their office is jus dicere, and not jus
dare; to interpret law, and not to make law, or give law. Else will
it be like the authority, claimed by the Church of Rome, which under
pretext of exposition of Scripture, doth not stick to add and alter; and
to pronounce that which they do not find; and by show of antiquity, to
introduce novelty. Judges ought to be more learned, than witty, more
reverend, than plausible, and more advised, than confident. Above all
things, integrity is their portion and proper virtue. Cursed (saith the
law) is he that removeth the landmark. The mislayer of a mere-stone is
to blame. But it is the unjust judge, that is the capital remover of
landmarks, when he defineth amiss, of lands and property. One foul
sentence doth more hurt, than many foul examples. For these do but
corrupt the stream, the other corrupteth the fountain. So with Solomon,
Fons turbatus, et vena corrupta, est justus cadens in causa sua coram
adversario. The office of judges may have reference unto the parties
that use, unto the advocates that plead, unto the clerks and ministers
of justice underneath them, and to the sovereign or state above them.

First, for the causes or parties that sue. There be (saith the
Scripture) that turn judgment, into wormwood; and surely there be also,
that turn it into vinegar; for injustice maketh it bitter, and delays
make it sour. The principal duty of a judge, is to suppress force and
fraud; whereof force is the more pernicious, when it is open, and fraud,
when it is close and disguised. Add thereto contentious suits, which
ought to be spewed out, as the surfeit of courts. A judge ought to
prepare his way to a just sentence, as God useth to prepare his way, by
raising valleys and taking down hills: so when there appeareth on
either side an high hand, violent prosecution, cunning advantages taken,
combination, power, great counsel, then is the virtue of a judge seen,
to make inequality equal; that he may plant his judgment as upon an even
ground. Qui fortiter emungit, elicit sanguinem; and where the wine-press
is hard wrought, it yields a harsh wine, that tastes of the grape-stone.
Judges must beware of hard constructions, and strained inferences; for
there is no worse torture, than the torture of laws. Specially in case
of laws penal, they ought to have care, that that which was meant for
terror, be not turned into rigor; and that they bring not upon the
people, that shower whereof the Scripture speaketh, Pluet super eos
laqueos; for penal laws pressed, are a shower of snares upon the people.
Therefore let penal laws, if they have been sleepers of long, or if they
be grown unfit for the present time, be by wise judges confined in the
execution: Judicis officium est, ut res, ita tempora rerum, etc. In
causes of life and death, judges ought (as far as the law permitteth)
in justice to remember mercy; and to cast a severe eye upon the example,
but a merciful eye upon the person.

Secondly, for the advocates and counsel that plead. Patience and gravity
of hearing, is an essential part of justice; and an overspeaking judge
is no well-tuned cymbal. It is no grace to a judge, first to find that,
which he might have heard in due time from the bar; or to show quickness
of conceit, in cutting off evidence or counsel too short; or to prevent
information by questions, though pertinent. The parts of a judge
in hearing, are four: to direct the evidence; to moderate length,
repetition, or impertinency of speech; to recapitulate, select, and
collate the material points, of that which hath been said; and to
give the rule or sentence. Whatsoever is above these is too much; and
proceedeth either of glory, and willingness to speak, or of impatience
to hear, or of shortness of memory, or of want of a staid and equal
attention. It is a strange thing to see, that the boldness of advocates
should prevail with judges; whereas they should imitate God, in whose
seat they sit; who represseth the presumptuous, and giveth grace to the
modest. But it is more strange, that judges should have noted favorites;
which cannot but cause multiplication of fees, and suspicion of by-ways.
There is due from the judge to the advocate, some commendation and
gracing, where causes are well handled and fair pleaded; especially
towards the side which obtaineth not; for that upholds in the client,
the reputation of his counsel, and beats down in him the conceit of
his cause. There is likewise due to the public, a civil reprehension of
advocates, where there appeareth cunning counsel, gross neglect, slight
information, indiscreet pressing, or an overbold defence. And let not
the counsel at the bar, chop with the judge, nor wind himself into the
handling of the cause anew, after the judge hath declared his sentence;
but, on the other side, let not the judge meet the cause half way, nor
give occasion to the party, to say his counsel or proofs were not heard.

Thirdly, for that that concerns clerks and ministers. The place of
justice is an hallowed place; and therefore not only the bench, but the
foot-place; and precincts and purprise thereof, ought to be preserved
without scandal and corruption. For certainly grapes (as the Scripture
saith) will not be gathered of thorns or thistles; neither can justice
yield her fruit with sweetness, amongst the briars and brambles of
catching and polling clerks, and ministers. The attendance of courts, is
subject to four bad instruments. First, certain persons that are sowers
of suits; which make the court swell, and the country pine. The second
sort is of those, that engage courts in quarrels of jurisdiction, and
are not truly amici curiae, but parasiti curiae, in puffing a court up
beyond her bounds, for their own scraps and advantage. The third sort,
is of those that may be accounted the left hands of courts; persons that
are full of nimble and sinister tricks and shifts, whereby they pervert
the plain and direct courses of courts, and bring justice into oblique
lines and labyrinths. And the fourth, is the poller and exacter of fees;
which justifies the common resemblance of the courts of justice, to the
bush whereunto, while the sheep flies for defence in weather, he is sure
to lose part of his fleece. On the other side, an ancient clerk, skilful
in precedents, wary in proceeding, and understanding in the business of
the court, is an excellent finger of a court; and doth many times point
the way to the judge himself.

Fourthly, for that which may concern the sovereign and estate. Judges
ought above all to remember the conclusion of the Roman Twelve Tables;
Salus populi suprema lex; and to know that laws, except they be in order
to that end, are but things captious, and oracles not well inspired.
Therefore it is an happy thing in a state, when kings and states do
often consult with judges; and again, when judges do often consult with
the king and state: the one, when there is matter of law, intervenient
in business of state; the other, when there is some consideration of
state, intervenient in matter of law. For many times the things deduced
to judgment may be meum and tuum, when the reason and consequence
thereof may trench to point of estate: I call matter of estate, not
only the parts of sovereignty, but whatsoever introduceth any great
alteration, or dangerous precedent; or concerneth manifestly any great
portion of people. And let no man weakly conceive, that just laws
and true policy have any antipathy; for they are like the spirits and
sinews, that one moves with the other. Let judges also remember, that
Solomon's throne was supported by lions on both sides: let them be
lions, but yet lions under the throne; being circumspect that they do
not check or oppose any points of sovereignty. Let not judges also be
ignorant of their own right, as to think there is not left to them, as a
principal part of their office, a wise use and application of laws. For
they may remember, what the apostle saith of a greater law than theirs;
Nos scimus quia lex bona est, modo quis ea utatur legitime.




Of Anger


TO SEEK to extinguish anger utterly, is but a bravery of the Stoics. We
have better oracles: Be angry, but sin not. Let not the sun go down
upon your anger. Anger must be limited and confined, both in race and
in time. We will first speak how the natural inclination and habit to be
angry, may be attempted and calmed. Secondly, how the particular motions
of anger may be repressed, or at least refrained from doing mischief.
Thirdly, how to raise anger, or appease anger in another.

For the first; there is no other way but to meditate, and ruminate well
upon the effects of anger, how it troubles man's life. And the best time
to do this, is to look back upon anger, when the fit is thoroughly over.
Seneca saith well, That anger is like ruin, which breaks itself upon
that it falls. The Scripture exhorteth us to possess our souls in
patience. Whosoever is out of patience, is out of possession of his
soul. Men must not turn bees;


... animasque in vulnere ponunt.


Anger is certainly a kind of baseness; as it appears well in the
weakness of those subjects in whom it reigns; children, women, old
folks, sick folks. Only men must beware, that they carry their anger
rather with scorn, than with fear; so that they may seem rather to be
above the injury, than below it; which is a thing easily done, if a man
will give law to himself in it.

For the second point; the causes and motives of anger, are chiefly
three. First, to be too sensible of hurt; for no man is angry, that
feels not himself hurt; and therefore tender and delicate persons must
needs be oft angry; they have so many things to trouble them, which more
robust natures have little sense of. The next is, the apprehension and
construction of the injury offered, to be, in the circumstances thereof,
full of contempt: for contempt is that, which putteth an edge upon
anger, as much or more than the hurt itself. And therefore, when men are
ingenious in picking out circumstances of contempt, they do kindle their
anger much. Lastly, opinion of the touch of a man's reputation, doth
multiply and sharpen anger. Wherein the remedy is, that a man should
have, as Consalvo was wont to say, telam honoris crassiorem. But in all
refrainings of anger, it is the best remedy to win time; and to make a
man's self believe, that the opportunity of his revenge is not yet
come, but that he foresees a time for it; and so to still himself in the
meantime, and reserve it.

To contain anger from mischief, though it take hold of a man, there be
two things, whereof you must have special caution. The one, of extreme
bitterness of words, especially if they be aculeate and proper; for
cummunia maledicta are nothing so much; and again, that in anger a man
reveal no secrets; for that, makes him not fit for society. The other,
that you do not peremptorily break off, in any business, in a fit of
anger; but howsoever you show bitterness, do not act anything, that is
not revocable.

For raising and appeasing anger in another; it is done chiefly by
choosing of times, when men are frowardest and worst disposed, to
incense them. Again, by gathering (as was touched before) all that you
can find out, to aggravate the contempt. And the two remedies are by the
contraries. The former to take good times, when first to relate to a man
an angry business; for the first impression is much; and the other is,
to sever, as much as may be, the construction of the injury from the
point of contempt; imputing it to misunderstanding, fear, passion, or
what you will.




Of Vicissitude Of Things


SOLOMON saith, There is no new thing upon the earth. So that as Plato
had an imagination, That all knowledge was but remembrance; so Solomon
giveth his sentence, That all novelty is but oblivion. Whereby you may
see, that the river of Lethe runneth as well above ground as below.
There is an abstruse astrologer that saith, If it were not for two
things that are constant (the one is, that the fixed stars ever stand a
like distance one from another, and never come nearer together, nor go
further asunder; the other, that the diurnal motion perpetually keepeth
time), no individual would last one moment. Certain it is, that
the matter is in a perpetual flux, and never at a stay. The great
winding-sheets, that bury all things in oblivion, are two; deluges
and earthquakes. As for conflagrations and great droughts, they do not
merely dispeople and destroy. Phaeton's car went but a day. And the
three years' drought in the time of Elias, was but particular, and left
people alive. As for the great burnings by lightnings, which are
often in the West Indies, they are but narrow. But in the other two
destructions, by deluge and earthquake, it is further to be noted, that
the remnant of people which hap to be reserved, are commonly ignorant
and mountainous people, that can give no account of the time past; so
that the oblivion is all one, as if none had been left. If you consider
well of the people of the West Indies, it is very probable that they are
a newer or a younger people, than the people of the Old World. And it is
much more likely, that the destruction that hath heretofore been there,
was not by earthquakes (as the Egyptian priest told Solon concerning the
island of Atlantis, that it was swallowed by an earthquake), but rather
that it was desolated by a particular deluge. For earthquakes are seldom
in those parts. But on the other side, they have such pouring rivers, as
the rivers of Asia and Africk and Europe, are but brooks to them.
Their Andes, likewise, or mountains, are far higher than those with us;
whereby it seems, that the remnants of generation of men, were in such
a particular deluge saved. As for the observation that Machiavel hath,
that the jealousy of sects, doth much extinguish the memory of things;
traducing Gregory the Great, that he did what in him lay, to extinguish
all heathen antiquities; I do not find that those zeals do any great
effects, nor last long; as it appeared in the succession of Sabinian,
who did revive the former antiquities.

The vicissitude of mutations in the superior globe, are no fit matter
for this present argument. It may be, Plato's great year, if the world
should last so long, would have some effect; not in renewing the state
of like individuals (for that is the fume of those, that conceive the
celestial bodies have more accurate influences upon these things below,
than indeed they have), but in gross. Comets, out of question, have
likewise power and effect, over the gross and mass of things; but they
are rather gazed upon, and waited upon in their journey, than wisely
observed in their effects; specially in, their respective effects; that
is, what kind of comet, for magnitude, color, version of the beams,
placing in the reign of heaven, or lasting, produceth what kind of
effects.

There is a toy which I have heard, and I would not have it given over,
but waited upon a little. They say it is observed in the Low Countries
(I know not in what part) that every five and thirty years, the same
kind and suit of years and weathers come about again; as great frosts,
great wet, great droughts, warm winters, summers with little heat, and
the like; and they call it the Prime. It is a thing I do the rather
mention, because, computing backwards, I have found some concurrence.

But to leave these points of nature, and to come to men. The greatest
vicissitude of things amongst men, is the vicissitude of sects and
religions. For those orbs rule in men's minds most. The true religion
is built upon the rock; the rest are tossed, upon the waves of time. To
speak, therefore, of the causes of new sects; and to give some counsel
concerning them, as far as the weakness of human judgment can give stay,
to so great revolutions. When the religion formerly received, is rent
by discords; and when the holiness of the professors of religion, is
decayed and full of scandal; and withal the times be stupid, ignorant,
and barbarous; you may doubt the springing up of a new sect; if then
also, there should arise any extravagant and strange spirit, to make
himself author thereof. All which points held, when Mahomet published
his law. If a new sect have not two properties, fear it not; for it will
not spread. The one is the supplanting, or the opposing, of authority
established; for nothing is more popular than that. The other is
the giving license to pleasures, and a voluptuous life. For as for
speculative heresies (such as were in ancient times the Arians, and now
the Arminians), though they work mightily upon men's wits, yet they do
not produce any great alterations in states; except it be by the help of
civil occasions. There be three manner of plantations of new sects. By
the power of signs and miracles; by the eloquence, and wisdom, of speech
and persuasion; and by the sword. For martyrdoms, I reckon them amongst
miracles; because they seem to exceed the strength of human nature: and
I may do the like, of superlative and admirable holiness of life. Surely
there is no better way, to stop the rising of new sects and schisms,
than to reform abuses; to compound the smaller differences; to proceed
mildly, and not with sanguinary persecutions; and rather to take off the
principal authors by winning and advancing them, than to enrage them by
violence and bitterness.

The changes and vicissitude in wars are many; but chiefly in three
things; in the seats or stages of the war; in the weapons; and in the
manner of the conduct. Wars, in ancient time, seemed more to move from
east to west; for the Persians, Assyrians, Arabians, Tartars (which
were the invaders) were all eastern people. It is true, the Gauls
were western; but we read but of two incursions of theirs: the one
to Gallo-Grecia, the other to Rome. But east and west have no certain
points of heaven; and no more have the wars, either from the east or
west, any certainty of observation. But north and south are fixed; and
it hath seldom or never been seen that the far southern people have
invaded the northern, but contrariwise. Whereby it is manifest that the
northern tract of the world, is in nature the more martial region: be it
in respect of the stars of that hemisphere; or of the great continents
that are upon the north, whereas the south part, for aught that is
known, is almost all sea; or (which is most apparent) of the cold of
the northern parts, which is that which, without aid of discipline, doth
make the bodies hardest, and the courages warmest.

Upon the breaking and shivering of a great state and empire, you may be
sure to have wars. For great empires, while they stand, do enervate and
destroy the forces of the natives which they have subdued, resting upon
their own protecting forces; and then when they fail also, all goes
to ruin, and they become a prey. So was it in the decay of the Roman
empire; and likewise in the empire of Almaigne, after Charles the Great,
every bird taking a feather; and were not unlike to befall to Spain,
if it should break. The great accessions and unions of kingdoms, do
likewise stir up wars; for when a state grows to an over-power, it is
like a great flood, that will be sure to overflow. As it hath been seen
in the states of Rome, Turkey, Spain, and others. Look when the world
hath fewest barbarous peoples, but such as commonly will not marry or
generate, except they know means to live (as it is almost everywhere at
this day, except Tartary), there is no danger of inundations of people;
but when there be great shoals of people, which go on to populate,
without foreseeing means of life and sustentation, it is of necessity
that once in an age or two, they discharge a portion of their people
upon other nations; which the ancient northern people were wont to do
by lot; casting lots what part should stay at home, and what should seek
their fortunes. When a warlike state grows soft and effeminate, they may
be sure of a war. For commonly such states are grown rich in the time
of their degenerating; and so the prey inviteth, and their decay in
valor, encourageth a war.

As for the weapons, it hardly falleth under rule and observation: yet
we see even they, have returns and vicissitudes. For certain it is, that
ordnance was known in the city of the Oxidrakes in India; and was that,
which the Macedonians called thunder and lightning, and magic. And it
is well known that the use of ordnance, hath been in China above two
thousand years. The conditions of weapons, and their improvement, are;
First, the fetching afar off; for that outruns the danger; as it is
seen in ordnance and muskets. Secondly, the strength of the percussion;
wherein likewise ordnance do exceed all arietations and ancient
inventions. The third is, the commodious use of them; as that they may
serve in all weathers; that the carriage may be light and manageable;
and the like.

For the conduct of the war: at the first, men rested extremely upon
number: they did put the wars likewise upon main force and valor;
pointing days for pitched fields, and so trying it out upon an even
match and they were more ignorant in ranging and arraying their battles.
After, they grew to rest upon number rather competent, than vast; they
grew to advantages of place, cunning diversions, and the like: and they
grew more skilful in the ordering of their battles.

In the youth of a state, arms do flourish; in the middle age of a state,
learning; and then both of them together for a time; in the declining
age of a state, mechanical arts and merchandize. Learning hath his
infancy, when it is but beginning and almost childish; then his youth,
when it is luxuriant and juvenile; then his strength of years, when it
is solid and reduced; and lastly, his old age, when it waxeth dry and
exhaust. But it is not good to look too long upon these turning wheels
of vicissitude, lest we become giddy. As for the philology of them, that
is but a circle of tales, and therefore not fit for this writing.




Of Fame


THE poets make Fame a monster. They describe her in part finely and
elegantly, and in part gravely and sententiously. They say, look how
many feathers she hath, so many eyes she hath underneath; so many
tongues; so many voices; she pricks up so many ears.

This is a flourish. There follow excellent parables; as that, she
gathereth strength in going; that she goeth upon the ground, and yet
hideth her head in the clouds; that in the daytime she sitteth in a
watch tower, and flieth most by night; that she mingleth things done,
with things not done; and that she is a terror to great cities. But that
which passeth all the rest is: They do recount that the Earth, mother
of the giants that made war against Jupiter, and were by him destroyed,
thereupon in an anger brought forth Fame. For certain it is, that
rebels, figured by the giants, and seditious fames and libels, are but
brothers and sisters, masculine and feminine. But now, if a man can tame
this monster, and bring her to feed at the hand, and govern her, and
with her fly other ravening fowl and kill them, it is somewhat worth.
But we are infected with the style of the poets. To speak now in a sad
and serious manner: There is not, in all the politics, a place less
handled and more worthy to be handled, than this of fame. We will
therefore speak of these points: What are false fames; and what are true
fames; and how they may be best discerned; how fames may be sown, and
raised; how they may be spread, and multiplied; and how they may be
checked, and laid dead. And other things concerning the nature of fame.
Fame is of that force, as there is scarcely any great action, wherein it
hath not a great part; especially in the war. Mucianus undid Vitellius,
by a fame that he scattered, that Vitellius had in purpose to remove the
legions of Syria into Germany, and the legions of Germany into Syria;
whereupon the legions of Syria were infinitely inflamed. Julius Caesar
took Pompey unprovided, and laid asleep his industry and preparations,
by a fame that he cunningly gave out: Caesar's own soldiers loved him
not, and being wearied with the wars, and laden with the spoils of Gaul,
would forsake him, as soon as he came into Italy. Livia settled all
things for the succession of her son Tiberius, by continual giving out,
that her husband Augustus was upon recovery and amendment, and it is an
usual thing with the pashas, to conceal the death of the Great Turk from
the janizaries and men of war, to save the sacking of Constantinople
and other towns, as their manner is. Themistocles made Xerxes, king of
Persia, post apace out of Grecia, by giving out, that the Grecians had
a purpose to break his bridge of ships, which he had made athwart
Hellespont. There be a thousand such like examples; and the more they
are, the less they need to be repeated; because a man meeteth with them
everywhere. Therefore let all wise governors have as great a watch and
care over fames, as they have of the actions and designs themselves.


[This essay was not finished]




A Glossary Of Archaic Words And Phrases


     Abridgment: miniature
     Absurd: stupid, unpolished
     Abuse: cheat, deceive
     Aculeate: stinging
     Adamant: loadstone
     Adust: scorched
     Advoutress: adulteress
     Affect: like, desire
     Antic: clown
     Appose: question
     Arietation: battering-ram
     Audit: revenue
     Avoidance: secret outlet
     Battle: battalion
     Bestow: settle in life
     Blanch: flatter, evade
     Brave: boastful
     Bravery: boast, ostentation
     Broke: deal in brokerage
     Broken: shine by comparison
     Broken music: part music
     Cabinet: secret
     Calendar: weather forecast
     Card: chart, map
     Care not to: are reckless
     Cast: plan
     Cat: cate, cake
     Charge and adventure: cost and
     risk
     Check with: interfere
     Chop: bandy words
     Civil: peaceful
     Close: secret, secretive
     Collect: infer
     Compound: compromise
     Consent: agreement
     Curious: elaborate
     Custom: import duties
     Deceive: rob
     Derive: divert
     Difficileness: moroseness
     Discover: reveal
     Donative: money gift
     Doubt: fear
     Equipollent: equally powerful
     Espial: spy
     Estate: state
     Facility: of easy persuasion
     Fair: rather
     Fame: rumor
     Favor: feature
     Flashy: insipid
     Foot-pace: lobby
     Foreseen: guarded against
     Froward: stubborn
     Futile: babbling
     Globe: complete body
     Glorious: showy, boastful
     Humorous: capricious
     Hundred poll: hundredth head
     Impertinent: irrelevant
     Implicit: entangled
     In a mean: in moderation
     In smother: suppressed
     Indifferent: impartial
     Intend: attend to
     Knap: knoll
     Leese: lose
     Let: hinder
     Loose: shot
     Lot: spell
     Lurch: intercept
     Make: profit, get
     Manage: train
     Mate: conquer
     Material: business-like
     Mere-stone: boundary stone
     Muniting: fortifying
     Nerve: sinew
     Obnoxious: subservient, liable
     Oes: round spangles
     Pair: impair
     Pardon: allowance
     Passable: mediocre
     Pine-apple-tree: pine
     Plantation: colony
     Platform: plan
     Plausible: praiseworthy
     Point device: excessively precise
     Politic: politician
     Poll: extort
     Poser: examiner
     Practice: plotting
     Preoccupate: anticipate
     Prest: prepared
     Prick: plant
     Proper: personal
     Prospective: stereoscope
     Proyne: prune
     Purprise: enclosure
     Push: pimple
     Quarrel: pretext
     Quech: flinch
     Reason: principle
     Recamera: retiring-room
     Return: reaction
     Return: wing running back
     Rise: dignity
     Round: straight
     Save: account for
     Scantling: measure
     Seel: blind
     Shrewd: mischievous
     Sort: associate
     Spial: spy
     Staddle: sapling
     Steal: do secretly
     Stirp: family
     Stond: stop, stand
     Stoved: hot-housed
     Style: title
     Success: outcome
     Sumptuary law: law against
     extravagance
     Superior globe: the heavens
     Temper: proportion
     Tendering: nursing
     Tract: line, trait
     Travel: travail, labor
     Treaties: treatises
     Trench to: touch
     Trivial: common
     Turquet: Turkish dwarf
     Under foot: below value
     Unready: untrained
     Usury: interest
     Value: certify
     Virtuous: able
     Votary: vowed
     Wanton: spoiled
     Wood: maze
     Work: manage, utilize






End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Essays, by Francis Bacon

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