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
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Showing posts with label Francis Bacon. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Francis Bacon. Show all posts
Of Nature in Men
NATURE is often hidden; sometimes over-
come; seldom extinguished. Force, maketh
nature more violent in the return; doctrine and dis-
course, 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 pre-
vailings. And at the first let him practise with
helps, as swimmers do with bladders or rushes;
but after a time let him practise with disadvan-
tages, 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 ex-
treme 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 de-
mutely 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 per-
ceived in privateness, for there is no affectation;
in passion, for that putteth a man out of his pre-
cepts; 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.
Back to: The Essays
come; seldom extinguished. Force, maketh
nature more violent in the return; doctrine and dis-
course, 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 pre-
vailings. And at the first let him practise with
helps, as swimmers do with bladders or rushes;
but after a time let him practise with disadvan-
tages, 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 ex-
treme 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 de-
mutely 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 per-
ceived in privateness, for there is no affectation;
in passion, for that putteth a man out of his pre-
cepts; 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.
Back to: The Essays
9:20 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
Dedication
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
Back to: The Essays
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
Back to: The Essays
4:53 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
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 accus-
tomed. 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 fierce-
ness of any man's nature, or his resolute under-
takings; 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 reso-
lution, is made equipollent to custom, even in mat-
ter of blood. In other things, the predominancy of
custom is everywhere visible; insomuch as a man
would wonder, to hear men profess, protest, en-
gage, 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 hus-
bands. The lads of Sparta, of ancient time, were
wont to be scourged upon the altar of Diana, with-
out so much as queching. I remember, in the be-
ginning 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 pen-
ance, 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 en-
deavor, 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; ex-
cept 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 cus-
tom 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 socie-
ties well ordained and disciplined. For common-
wealths, 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.
Back to: The Essays
inclination; their discourse and speeches,
according to their learning and infused opinions;
but their deeds, are after as they have been accus-
tomed. 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 fierce-
ness of any man's nature, or his resolute under-
takings; 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 reso-
lution, is made equipollent to custom, even in mat-
ter of blood. In other things, the predominancy of
custom is everywhere visible; insomuch as a man
would wonder, to hear men profess, protest, en-
gage, 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 hus-
bands. The lads of Sparta, of ancient time, were
wont to be scourged upon the altar of Diana, with-
out so much as queching. I remember, in the be-
ginning 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 pen-
ance, 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 en-
deavor, 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; ex-
cept 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 cus-
tom 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 socie-
ties well ordained and disciplined. For common-
wealths, 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.
Back to: The Essays
4:44 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
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 ro-
bur corporis et animi fuit, ut quocunque loco natus
esset, fortunam sibi facturus videretur) falleth
upon that, that he had versatile ingenium. There-
fore 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 giv-
ing light together. So are there a number of
little, and scarce discerned virtues, or rather facul-
ties 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 for-
tune 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 infor-
tunate. 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 for-
tune, in respect of that of Agesilaus or Epaminon-
das. And that this shoulld be, no doubt it is much,
in a man's self.
Back to: The Essays
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 ro-
bur corporis et animi fuit, ut quocunque loco natus
esset, fortunam sibi facturus videretur) falleth
upon that, that he had versatile ingenium. There-
fore 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 giv-
ing light together. So are there a number of
little, and scarce discerned virtues, or rather facul-
ties 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 for-
tune 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 infor-
tunate. 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 for-
tune, in respect of that of Agesilaus or Epaminon-
das. And that this shoulld be, no doubt it is much,
in a man's self.
Back to: The Essays
4:44 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
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 conces-
sum 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 he still, but
would in great part be employed upon merchan-
dizing; 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 uncer-
tainties, 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 em-
ployment of money, is chiefly either merchandiz-
ing or purchasing; and usury waylays both. The
sixth, that it doth dull and damp all industries, im-
provements, 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 hinder-
eth 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 neces-
sities would draw upon them a most sudden un-
doing; 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 with-
out 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 borrow-
ing 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 reigle-
ment, of usury; how the discommodities of it may
be best avoided, and the commodities retained. It
appears, by the balance of commodities and dis-
commodities of usury, two things are to be recon-
ciled. 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 quicken-
ing of trade. This cannot be done, except you intro-
duce 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 profit-
able improvements; because many will rather
venture in that kind, than take five in the hun-
dred, 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 fol-
lowing. Let the rate be, even with the merchant
himself, somewhat more easy than that he used
formerly to pay; for by that means, all bor-
rowers, 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 mis-
like 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 re-
strained 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 per-
missive; the answer is, that it is better to mitigate
usury, by declaration, than to suffer it to rage, by
connivance.
Back to: The Essays
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 conces-
sum 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 he still, but
would in great part be employed upon merchan-
dizing; 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 uncer-
tainties, 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 em-
ployment of money, is chiefly either merchandiz-
ing or purchasing; and usury waylays both. The
sixth, that it doth dull and damp all industries, im-
provements, 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 hinder-
eth 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 neces-
sities would draw upon them a most sudden un-
doing; 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 with-
out 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 borrow-
ing 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 reigle-
ment, of usury; how the discommodities of it may
be best avoided, and the commodities retained. It
appears, by the balance of commodities and dis-
commodities of usury, two things are to be recon-
ciled. 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 quicken-
ing of trade. This cannot be done, except you intro-
duce 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 profit-
able improvements; because many will rather
venture in that kind, than take five in the hun-
dred, 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 fol-
lowing. Let the rate be, even with the merchant
himself, somewhat more easy than that he used
formerly to pay; for by that means, all bor-
rowers, 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 mis-
like 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 re-
strained 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 per-
missive; the answer is, that it is better to mitigate
usury, by declaration, than to suffer it to rage, by
connivance.
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Of Youth and Age
A MAN that is young in years, may be old in
hours, if he have lost no time. But that hap-
peneth 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 em-
peror, 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 experi-
ence 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 busi-
ness; 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 considera-
tion of the means and degrees; pursue some
few principles, which they have chanced upon
absurdly; care not to innovate, which draws un-
known 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 Her-
mogenes the rhetorician, whose books are exceed-
ing 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.
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hours, if he have lost no time. But that hap-
peneth 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 em-
peror, 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 experi-
ence 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 busi-
ness; 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 considera-
tion of the means and degrees; pursue some
few principles, which they have chanced upon
absurdly; care not to innovate, which draws un-
known 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 Her-
mogenes the rhetorician, whose books are exceed-
ing 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.
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4:42 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
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 per-
sons are otherwise of great virtue; as if nature were
rather busy, not to err, than in labor to produce
excellency. And therefore they prove accom-
plished, 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 geo-
metrical 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, cer-
tainly 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 cer-
tainly again, if it light well, it maketh virtue shine,
and vices blush.
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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 per-
sons are otherwise of great virtue; as if nature were
rather busy, not to err, than in labor to produce
excellency. And therefore they prove accom-
plished, 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 geo-
metrical 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, cer-
tainly 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 cer-
tainly again, if it light well, it maketh virtue shine,
and vices blush.
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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 al-
tero. 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 inclina-
tion are sometimes obscured, by the sun of disci-
pline 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 ex-
posed to scorn; but in process of time, by a general
habit. Also it stirreth in them industry, and espe-
cially of this kind, to watch and observe the weak-
ness 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 believ-
ing 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 pres-
ent 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 wbisperers, 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 them-
selves 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.
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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 al-
tero. 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 inclina-
tion are sometimes obscured, by the sun of disci-
pline 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 ex-
posed to scorn; but in process of time, by a general
habit. Also it stirreth in them industry, and espe-
cially of this kind, to watch and observe the weak-
ness 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 believ-
ing 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 pres-
ent 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 wbisperers, 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 them-
selves 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.
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4:42 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
Of Building
HOUSES are built to live in, and not to look on;
therefore let use be preferred before uni-
formity, 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 un-
wholesome; 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 there-
fore 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 ban-
quet, 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 di-
vided 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 ser-
vants' 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 quar-
ters 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 colored 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 can-
not 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 en-
vironed 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 gar-
den; 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, ante-
camera, 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 like-
wise, an open gallery, upon pillars, to take the
prospect and freshness of the garden. At both cor-
ners 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 dis-
tance, with some low galleries, to pass from them
to the palace itself.
Back to: The Essays
therefore let use be preferred before uni-
formity, 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 un-
wholesome; 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 there-
fore 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 ban-
quet, 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 di-
vided 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 ser-
vants' 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 quar-
ters 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 colored 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 can-
not 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 en-
vironed 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 gar-
den; 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, ante-
camera, 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 like-
wise, an open gallery, upon pillars, to take the
prospect and freshness of the garden. At both cor-
ners 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 dis-
tance, with some low galleries, to pass from them
to the palace itself.
Back to: The Essays
4:41 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
Of Gardens
G0D 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 ver-
nus, both the yellow and the grey; primroses,
anemones; the early tulippa; hyacinthus orien-
talis; 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 blos-
som; the cornelian-tree in blossom; sweet-briar.
In April follow the double white violet; the wall-
flower; the stock-gilliflower; the cowslip; flower-
delices, and lilies of all natures; rosemary-flowers;
the tulippa; the double peony; the pale daffodil;
the French honeysuckle; the cherry-tree in blos-
som; 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 blush-
pink; 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; vine-
flowers; 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; cor-
nelians; wardens; quinces. In October and the
beginning of November come services; medlars;
bullaces; roses cut or removed to come late; holly-
hocks; 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 warb-
ling 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 honey-
suckles, so they be somewhat afar off. Of bean-
flowers 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, wild-
thyme, 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 con-
tents 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 colored earths, that they may lie under the
windows of the house on that side which the gar-
den 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 pil-
lars 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 tur-
ret, 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 col-
ored glass gilt, for the sun to play upon. But this
hedge I intend to be raised upon a bank, not steep,
but gently slope, 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 re-
freshment; but pools mar all, and make the garden
unwholesome, and full of flies and frogs. Foun-
tains I intend to be of two natures: the one that
sprinkleth or spouteth water; the other a fair re-
ceipt 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 colored 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 foun-
tain; 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 dis-
charged 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 na-
ture 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; sweet-
briar; 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, be-
cause of going wet. In many of these alleys, like-
wise, 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 en-
closure 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 to-
gether; and sometimes add statuas and such things
for state and magnificence, but nothing to the true
pleasure of a garden.
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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 ver-
nus, both the yellow and the grey; primroses,
anemones; the early tulippa; hyacinthus orien-
talis; 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 blos-
som; the cornelian-tree in blossom; sweet-briar.
In April follow the double white violet; the wall-
flower; the stock-gilliflower; the cowslip; flower-
delices, and lilies of all natures; rosemary-flowers;
the tulippa; the double peony; the pale daffodil;
the French honeysuckle; the cherry-tree in blos-
som; 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 blush-
pink; 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; vine-
flowers; 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; cor-
nelians; wardens; quinces. In October and the
beginning of November come services; medlars;
bullaces; roses cut or removed to come late; holly-
hocks; 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 warb-
ling 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 honey-
suckles, so they be somewhat afar off. Of bean-
flowers 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, wild-
thyme, 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 con-
tents 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 colored earths, that they may lie under the
windows of the house on that side which the gar-
den 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 pil-
lars 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 tur-
ret, 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 col-
ored glass gilt, for the sun to play upon. But this
hedge I intend to be raised upon a bank, not steep,
but gently slope, 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 re-
freshment; but pools mar all, and make the garden
unwholesome, and full of flies and frogs. Foun-
tains I intend to be of two natures: the one that
sprinkleth or spouteth water; the other a fair re-
ceipt 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 colored 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 foun-
tain; 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 dis-
charged 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 na-
ture 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; sweet-
briar; 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, be-
cause of going wet. In many of these alleys, like-
wise, 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 en-
closure 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 to-
gether; and sometimes add statuas and such things
for state and magnificence, but nothing to the true
pleasure of a garden.
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4:41 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
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 ex-
postulation, 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 em-
ployed them; for that breeds confidence, and they
will strive to maintain their prescription. It is bet-
ter 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 per-
formance 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 pre-
text. 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.
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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 ex-
postulation, 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 em-
ployed them; for that breeds confidence, and they
will strive to maintain their prescription. It is bet-
ter 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 per-
formance 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 pre-
text. 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.
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4:40 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
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 fol-
lowers ought to challenge no higher conditions,
than countenance, recommendation, and protec-
tion 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 intelli-
gence, that we many times see between great per-
sonages. 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 like-
wise, 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 com-
monly 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 fol-
lowing, is to be followed as one, that apprehendeth
to advance virtue, and desert, in all sorts of per-
sons. And yet, where there is no eminent odds in
sufficiency, it is better to take with the more pass-
able, 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 coun-
tenance 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 imme-
diately, 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 mag-
nified. That that is, is between superior and in-
ferior, whose fortunes may comprehend the one
the other.
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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 fol-
lowers ought to challenge no higher conditions,
than countenance, recommendation, and protec-
tion 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 intelli-
gence, that we many times see between great per-
sonages. 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 like-
wise, 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 com-
monly 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 fol-
lowing, is to be followed as one, that apprehendeth
to advance virtue, and desert, in all sorts of per-
sons. And yet, where there is no eminent odds in
sufficiency, it is better to take with the more pass-
able, 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 coun-
tenance 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 imme-
diately, 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 mag-
nified. That that is, is between superior and in-
ferior, whose fortunes may comprehend the one
the other.
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4:40 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
Of Suitors
MANY ill matters and projects are under-
taken; and private suits do putrefy the pub-
lic 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 effectu-
ally in them; but if they see there may be life in
the matter, by some other mean, they will be con-
tent 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 occa-
sion to cross some other; or to make an informa-
tion, 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 chal-
lenging 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, advan-
tage 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 other-
wise, 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.
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taken; and private suits do putrefy the pub-
lic 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 effectu-
ally in them; but if they see there may be life in
the matter, by some other mean, they will be con-
tent 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 occa-
sion to cross some other; or to make an informa-
tion, 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 chal-
lenging 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, advan-
tage 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 other-
wise, 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.
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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 dis-
course; and for ability, is in the judgment, and
disposition of business. For expert men can exe-
cute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one;
but the general counsels, and the plots and mar-
shalling 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 ex-
perience. 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 with-
out 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 dis-
course; 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 impor-
tant arguments, and the meaner sort of books, else
distilled books are like common distilled waters,
flashy things. Reading maketh a full man; confer-
ence 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 wan-
dering, 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.
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for ability. Their chief use for delight, is in
privateness and retiring; for ornament, is in dis-
course; and for ability, is in the judgment, and
disposition of business. For expert men can exe-
cute, and perhaps judge of particulars, one by one;
but the general counsels, and the plots and mar-
shalling 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 ex-
perience. 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 with-
out 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 dis-
course; 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 impor-
tant arguments, and the meaner sort of books, else
distilled books are like common distilled waters,
flashy things. Reading maketh a full man; confer-
ence 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 wan-
dering, 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.
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Of Fame
THE poets make Fame a monster. They de-
scribe 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 par-
ables; 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, there-
upon 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, mas-
culine 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 multi-
plied; 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; es-
pecially in the war. Mucianus undid Vitellius, by
a fame that he scattered, that Vitellius had in pur-
pose to remove the legions of Syria into Germany,
and the legions of Germany into Syria; where-
upon 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 ath-
wart 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.
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scribe 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 par-
ables; 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, there-
upon 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, mas-
culine 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 multi-
plied; 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; es-
pecially in the war. Mucianus undid Vitellius, by
a fame that he scattered, that Vitellius had in pur-
pose to remove the legions of Syria into Germany,
and the legions of Germany into Syria; where-
upon 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 ath-
wart 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.
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4:38 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
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 mat-
ter is in a perpetual flux, and never at a stay. The
great winding-sheets, that bury all things in ob-
livion, 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 earth-
quake, 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 peo-
ple, 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, like-
wise, or mountains, are far higher than those with
us; whereby it seems, that the remnants of gen-
eration 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 ap-
peared 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 renew-
ing 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, plac-
ing 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 weath-
ers 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, comput-
ing 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 re-
ligion 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 con-
cerning 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 bar-
barous; you may doubt the springing up of a new
sect; if then also, there should arise any extrava-
gant and strange spirit, to make himself author
thereof. All which points held, when Mahomet
published his law. If a new sect have not two prop-
erties, fear it not; for it will not spread. The one is
the supplanting, or the opposing, of authority es-
tablished; 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 Armenians), though they work mightily upon
men's wits, yet they do not produce any great al-
terations 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 persua-
sion; and by the sword. For martyrdoms, I reckon
them amongst miracles; because they seem to ex-
ceed 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 win-
ning 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 west-
ern; 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 tak-
ing 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 bar-
barous 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 Tar-
tary), 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 com-
monly such states are grownm 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 re-
turns and vicissitudes. For certain it is, that ord-
nance 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 ord-
nance do exceed all arietations and ancient inven-
tions. The third is, the commodious use of them; as
that they may serve in all weathers; that the car-
riage 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 skil-
ful 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 luxuri-
ant 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.
Back to: The Essays
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 mat-
ter is in a perpetual flux, and never at a stay. The
great winding-sheets, that bury all things in ob-
livion, 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 earth-
quake, 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 peo-
ple, 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, like-
wise, or mountains, are far higher than those with
us; whereby it seems, that the remnants of gen-
eration 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 ap-
peared 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 renew-
ing 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, plac-
ing 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 weath-
ers 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, comput-
ing 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 re-
ligion 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 con-
cerning 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 bar-
barous; you may doubt the springing up of a new
sect; if then also, there should arise any extrava-
gant and strange spirit, to make himself author
thereof. All which points held, when Mahomet
published his law. If a new sect have not two prop-
erties, fear it not; for it will not spread. The one is
the supplanting, or the opposing, of authority es-
tablished; 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 Armenians), though they work mightily upon
men's wits, yet they do not produce any great al-
terations 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 persua-
sion; and by the sword. For martyrdoms, I reckon
them amongst miracles; because they seem to ex-
ceed 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 win-
ning 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 west-
ern; 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 tak-
ing 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 bar-
barous 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 Tar-
tary), 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 com-
monly such states are grownm 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 re-
turns and vicissitudes. For certain it is, that ord-
nance 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 ord-
nance do exceed all arietations and ancient inven-
tions. The third is, the commodious use of them; as
that they may serve in all weathers; that the car-
riage 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 skil-
ful 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 luxuri-
ant 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.
Back to: The Essays
4:37 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
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 con-
fined, 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 medi-
tate, 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 ap-
pears 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 cir-
cumstances 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 refrain-
ings of anger, it is the best remedy to win time;
and to make a man's self believe, that the oppor-
tunity 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 bit-
terness 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 con-
tempt. 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 impres-
sion 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 misunderstand-
ing, fear, passion, or what you will.
Back to: The Essays
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 con-
fined, 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 medi-
tate, 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 ap-
pears 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 cir-
cumstances 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 refrain-
ings of anger, it is the best remedy to win time;
and to make a man's self believe, that the oppor-
tunity 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 bit-
terness 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 con-
tempt. 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 impres-
sion 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 misunderstand-
ing, fear, passion, or what you will.
Back to: The Essays
4:37 AM | Filed Under Francis Bacon | 0
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 an-
tiquity, 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 foun-
tain. 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, vio-
lent prosecution, cunning advantages taken, com-
bination, 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 infer-
ences; for there is no worse torture, than the tor-
ture 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 remem-
ber 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 essen-
tial 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 perti-
nent. 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. What-
soever is above these is too much; and proceedeth
either of glory, and willingness to speak, or of im-
patience 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 pre-
sumptuous, 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 over-
bold 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 minis-
ters. 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; either 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 com-
mon 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 prece-
dents, 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 sov-
ereign and estate. Judges ought above all to re-
member 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 de-
duced 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 peo-
ple. 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 Solo-
mon'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.
Back to: The Essays
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 an-
tiquity, 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 foun-
tain. 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, vio-
lent prosecution, cunning advantages taken, com-
bination, 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 infer-
ences; for there is no worse torture, than the tor-
ture 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 remem-
ber 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 essen-
tial 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 perti-
nent. 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. What-
soever is above these is too much; and proceedeth
either of glory, and willingness to speak, or of im-
patience 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 pre-
sumptuous, 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 over-
bold 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 minis-
ters. 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; either 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 com-
mon 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 prece-
dents, 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 sov-
ereign and estate. Judges ought above all to re-
member 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 de-
duced 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 peo-
ple. 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 Solo-
mon'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.
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