if it be allowed to give that name to one of them: | proved by the evidence of works than by arguthe first is of those who struggle fiercely to increase ment, or even sense. Hence there is one and the their sway in their own country; and this is com- same means of improving man's condition and his mon and mean. The second of those who strive mind. So he saw that what has been said of the to extend the sway of their country over other dignity of the end we aim at and design, is not nations; which has doubtless more dignity, but strengthened, but really diminished by words. not less selfishness. The third is of those who essay to create and extend the sway and empire of man himself or the human race over the universe of matter; which is clearly wiser and nobler than the others. Now the empire of man consists in knowledge alone, for his power is what he knows, nor can any force burst the chain of natural causes; for nature is only to be conquered by obeying.

He thought also, that what has been said of the excellence of the end may appear accommodated to his wishes. We must, therefore, inquire carefully what hopes shines on us, and on what side it appears and we must be on our guard that love of what is excellent and beautiful do not make us lose or relax the rigour of our judgment. For it is meet to bestow on this matter legal caution, which distrusts on principle, and takes the least favourable view of human concerns. The lighter whisperings of hope must, therefore, be rejected, but those which seem to have some stability, discussed. And in taking a view of his prospects, it occurred to him, first, that what we are treating of, by reason of the eminent nature of good, is manifestly from God; and that in the works of God the smallest beginnings lead to their end. He had hope also from the nature of time: for truth is by universal consent the daughter of time. It is a mark, therefore, of utter weakness and narrowness of mind to attribute infinite effects to authors, but to withhold its due from time, the author of authors and of all authority. Nor had he hope only in the common right of time, but also in the superiority of our own age. For the opinion of antiquity which men hold, is a hasty one, and not even agreeing with the name. For the old age or more advanced period of the world is properly to be called anti

He thought also, and inquired what account should be made of the value and efficacy of inventions, whether simple and unmixed, or joined with their favours and benefits. And in no case is this consideration more plainly suggested, than in those three inventions, which were unknown to the ancients, and whose birth among us was obscure and noiseless; printing, gunpowder, and the compass. For these three, though a small number, and not remote in invention, have changed the face of things, and the condition of the world: the first in literature, the second in war, the third in navigation; and hence have flowed infinite mutations in the state of things, apparent to careful observers; so that no empire, sect, or star, seems to have had a stronger influence, and, as it were, ascendant over human affairs than those mechanical works. As to their worth, it may be best descried if any one will reflect what a gulf there is between man's life in the most polished country of Europe, and the rudest and most sa-quity. And, in truth, as we expect a greater vage region of the New Indies: so great, that man may fairly be said to be a god to man, not only by reason of assistance and benefit, but from comparing their conditions. And this is not the effect of soil, or climate, or constitution, but of arts. But the new world of science and the new world of geography do not agree in the old being more refined than the new on the contrary, it is certain that the additions to arts must show themselves greatly superior to those we have, so as not only to bend nature gently, but to conquer and enslave it, and shake it to its foundation: for it almost always happens that what is easy of dis-nature which is capable of shedding new light covery is infirm of work; since the roots of things of potent virtue are covered deeply. But if to any one given to the love and worship of contemplation, this frequent and honourable mention of works sounds somewhat harsh and offensive, let him be assured that he thwarts his natural wishes; for in nature works are not only benefits to life, but pledges of truth. And, as it is most justly required in religion that a man should show his faith by works, it is right also in natural philosophy that knowledge should be proved by its works in like manner. For truth is rather shown and

acquaintance with affairs and more mature judgment, in an old man than in a youth, by reason of his experience, and his having seen and heard and thought more; it is reasonable that in like manner we should hope from our own age (if it knew its own strength, and would essay and apply it) more than from former times, being a more advanced age of the world, and enriched to fulness with numberless experiments and observations. Nor must we think it little that, in those distant voyages and travels which have been frequent in our time, much has been discovered in

on philosophy. Nay, it is dishonourable to men, if in our age the regions of the material world, that is, the earth, the ocean, and the heavenly bodies, are discovered and displayed to a vast extent, but the boundaries of the intellectual world are still fixed within the narrow space and knowledge of the ancients. Even the state of Europe at present in a political respect is not averse. England is raised, France at peace, Spain worn out, Italy and Germany in a state of inaction: so that from the power of the greatest kings being balanced, and the conditions of the

those inventions also, which are already brought to light, he thought it might be truly conjectured about those which are yet hidden. But some of them are of that kind that, before their discovery, surmises of them would not readily come into any one's mind. For, men commonly guess at new things by a likeness to old ones, and by ideas learned of them, which is a very vain way of thinking, since those things that are sought from the fountain-head do not flow through the common channels. Thus, if some one, before the invention of firearms, had described them by their effects, and had said that a discovery was just made by means of which walls and the strongest fortifications might be battered and beaten down from a great distance, men would certainly reason much and variously about multiplying the powers of casting engines and machinery, by weights, wheels, and the like; but the idea of a fiery wind could scarcely occur, as what they had never seen an instance of, except perchance in an earthquake or thunderstorm, which they had neglected, as not imitable. In like manner if, before the invention of silken thread, some one had spoken thus: that there was a certain kind of thread useful for dress and furniture, which much excelled linen and

first rate nations shaken, affairs lean to peace, which is like clear and mild weather for the sciences. Nor is the present state of letters itself unfavourable; nay, it enjoys a certain facility, both from the art of printing, unknown to ancient times, by means of which the inventions and thoughts of individuals glance from side to side like lightning and also by reason of religious controversies, from weariness of which perchance men have been able to turn their minds more readily to the contemplation of the power, the wisdom, and the goodness of God in his works. But, if any one is moved by the consent and continuance enjoyed by the opinions of the ancients, he will find, if he looks more carefully into the matter, very few leaders, and the rest followers only and a crowd; men, that is to say, who have stepped from ignorance into prejudice, and have never met in true consent, which must be after the use of judgment. And on proper reflection, the length of time itself shrinks into a narrow shred. For of the five-and-twenty centuries with which the memory of man is acquainted, scarce five can be marked out which have been useful and productive in the increase of knowledge, and even they have been for the most part planted and cultivated with other know-woollen thread in fineness, and, notwithstanding, ledges, and not that of nature. For there are reckoned three periods and revolutions of opinions, one with the Greeks, another with the Romans, the last with the western nations of Europe; the remaining time of the world has been taken up with wars and other pursuits, and, as far as regards the growth of knowledge, is a barren wilderness.

strength, and moreover gloss and softness; men would immediately begin to think of some vegetable silk, or the delicate part of some animal's hair, or the feathers and down of birds, but would never guess the fabric of a worm, and that too in such plenty and every year. And if any one had dropped a hint about worms, he would certainly have been ridiculed for dreaming of some new works of spiders. And hence, for the most part, those things which are still hidden in the womb of nature have this same property, that they escape and elude the imaginations and reasoning of men. So he thought, if it check any one's hope of new inventions, that, by inference from those before us, he counts them either impossible or unlikely, he should know that he is not competent, even to wish fitly and usefully.

But again he thought that there are other things among those discovered of a different and almost contrary nature, which lead us to think that mankind may pass by and neglect great inventions lying close at their feet. For although the inven

He thought thus then about time. From the power and nature of chance also he augured thus. Chance, indeed, has been, without doubt, the author of many inventions, occasion being taken from the nature of things. Did then the Promethens of New India differ from the European in the discovery of fire, because the former have no supply of flints? In those things, therefore, which are at hand, chance gives inventions in plenty; in those which are removed from common use, she travails and brings forth more sparingly, but yet in all ages. For no cause can be seen why chance should be thought to have grown old and past the time of bearing. He thought, therefore, that if many discoveries chance to mention of gunpowder, and silk, and the compass, and without seeking, and while otherwise employed, no one can doubt that if the same men were to search, and by rule and order, not by fits and starts, many more things must be discovered. For, though it may happen in one or two cases that some one may by chance hit upon what has escaped him before when straining all his powers in the inquiry, yet, without doubt, the contrary will appear in the long run. For chance works thinly, and slowly, and irregularly; but art constantly, and rapidly, and connectedly. From

sugar, and the like, seem to depend upon certain properties of matter and nature; the art of printing has certainly nothing which was not plain, and almost obvious, and gathered from what was already known. But in this race of invention the human mind is commonly so unlucky and awkward, that in some things it first despairs, and shortly after despises itself; and at first it seems incredible that any such thing could be invented, but after it is invented, again it appears incredible that it could have escaped men so long. And this

leads him to hope that there yet remains a great mass of inventions which might be gained, not only from uncovering new properties, but also from transferring and applying those already known.

hope; but, above all, the most certain hope is from the errors of the time past. And (as some one said of the maladministration of civil government) that may be the best for the future, which is the worst on looking to the past; for if such errors cease, (and giving warning is the first step towards it,) there would be a very great change in things. But if men had passed through the course of so many years, without being able to make any progress, no hope could remain. For then it would be clear that the difficulty was in the matter and subject, (which are out of our power,) not in the instrument, (which is within it,) that is, in the things and their obscurity, not in the human mind and its working. But now it appears that the

turns from the path of men: it does, therefore, cause in some measure the fear of solitude, but threatens nothing more. In fine, he determined that, if even a much weaker and less sensible air breathed from that new continent, it should yet be attempted. For there is not the same danger in not trying a thing and not succeeding in it; since, in the former case, the loss of a great benefit, in the latter, of a little human labour is concerned. In truth, both from what has and has not been said, he saw well that there was sufficient hope, not only for a diligent man to make trial, but also for a prudent and sober one to give credit.

He accepted also as happy omens what he observed in the mechanical arts and their success, especially when compared with philosophy. For the mechanical arts, as if enjoying a certain vital air, grow and perfect themselves daily; while philosophy, like a statue, is adored and celebrated, but moves not. The former also are seen rude, and commonly without proportion and cumbrous in the hands of their first authors; but afterwards get new strength and aptness. The latter is in its greatest vigour with its first author, and after-way is not stopped up by any block or barrier, but wards declines. And the real cause of this different success is that, in the mechanical arts, the wits of many meet together in one; but in philosophy the wits of all are spoiled by one. For after they have surrendered themselves they give no increase, but are employed in the servile office of dressing and attending one. Wherefore every philosophy, torn up from the roots of experience, from which it first sprung and grew, becomes dead matter. And, roused by this thought, he observed also, that the means of arts and sciences are, by universal consent, empirical or rational, that is, philosophical; but he has not yet seen these well put together and united. For the empirical, like the ant, only collects and uses; the rational, like the spider, spins from itself. But the practice of the bee is midway, which draws materials from the flowers of both garden and field, but transmutes and digests them by a faculty of its own. Nor is the work of true philosophy different, which stores up the matter supplied by natural history and mechanical experiments, not raw in the memory, but changed and prepared in the understanding. And he is aware that there are some of the empirical who wish not to be held as merely empirical, and of the reasoners who aim at seeming industrious and plain in practice. But these have been and are the artifices of a few, aiming at the character of each excelling in his own sect; though, in reality, there has always been a division and almost antipathy between these faculties. So he thought there was hope of excellent effects from a close and confirmed union of them.

He saw also with pleasure that he found an infinite expense of wit, time, and means, which men employ in matters and pursuits that, rightly considered, are useless; while if a small part of them were turned to what is sound and useful, it might conquer every difficulty. Nor is there any reason to fear the multitude of particulars, since the phenomena of the arts are but a handful to the reasonings of the mind when disunited and distracted from the evidence of things. Now, all this that has been said has its effect in producing VOL. I.-55

He thought also, that, when the desire is kindled, and the hope formed, we must look to the means of performance. This is then what appeared to him generally in that matter; and he thought fit to enclose and embrace it in naked and open sentences.

He saw that things must be done entirely otherwise than they are now; and therefore that the disproving of the past is a kind of oracle for what is to come.

He thought that theories, and opinions, and common notions, as far as can be obtained from the stiffness and firmness of the mind, should be entirely done away with; and that the understanding should begin anew plainly and fairly with particulars; since there is no other entrance open to the kingdom of nature than to the kingdom of heaven, into which no one may enter except in the form of a little child.

He thought that a body and mass of particulars, both from their number, kind, and certainty or subtility sufficient for information, might be collected and stored up, both from natural history and mechanical experiments, the latter especially, because nature displays herself more fully when she is held and pressed by art than at her own liberty. He thought that this mass should be reduced and digested into tables and regular order, that the understanding may be able to act upon it and perform its office; since even the divine word did not work upon a mass of things without order. He thought that we must not suddenly pas

20

from the particulars digested into tables, to the was handling a subject which it were unbecominquisition after new particulars, (which is never- ing to defile with any ambition or affectation; theless itself a useful thing, and like a kind of but yet that he must needs descend to the recollearned experience,) but that we should first pro- lection, (unless indeed he were very inexperienced ceed to general and large comprehensions, and so in affairs and minds, and would begin his journey far indulge the natural bent of the understanding. without any search,) that inveterate errors, like But at the same time he saw that the natural but the ravings of the lunatic, must be subdued by vous motion and impulse of the mind to jump art and contrivance, and are aggravated by viofrom particulars to high and general comprehen-lence and opposition. We must, therefore, use sions, (such as what are called the first principles prudence, and humour them, (as far as we can of arts and things,) and to get at the rest by de- with simplicity and candour,) that contradictions scending through the middle ones, must be alto- may be extinguished before they are inflamed. gether checked; but the nearest comprehensions For this object he is preparing a work on nature, must be first drawn out and discovered, and then which may destroy errors with the least harshthe middle ones, and we must climb the true lad-ness, and enter the senses of mankind without der by repeated steps. For the paths of thought violence; which would be easier from his not and understanding almost agree with that twofold way in morals, sung by the ancients; for one road, smooth at the entrance, leads to pathless wilds, the other, steep and difficult at first, ends in level road.

He thought that such a form of induction should be introduced as should conclude generally from certain instances, so that it can be proved that there cannot be found a contradictory instance, lest by chance we pronounce from fewer than are adequate, and from those which are at our feet; and (as one of the ancients said) seek knowledge in our private worlds, and not in the public one. He saw that that comprehension only should be approved of and received, which was not made and fitted to the measure of the particulars from which it was derived, but which was rather more ample and lax, and supported its amplitude and laxity by the designation of new particulars, as a sort of suretiship, lest we should stop at what is already known, or perchance in too wide an embrace catch shadows and abstract forms. He saw that many things besides these should be invented to work notably, not so much to the perfecting of the matter, as to the shortening of the labour, and to the speeding of men's harvest from it. And whether all this be rightly thought or otherwise, we must, if need be, appeal from the opinions, and stand by the effects.

He thought, also, that what he is treating of is rather performance than opinion, and that it lays the foundations, not of any sect or school, but of immense utility and enlargement. Wherefore thought must be taken not only about accomplishing the matter, but about communicating and transmitting it, which is of equal consequence. But he found that men minister to their love of fame and pomp by sometimes publishing, sometimes concealing the knowledge of things which they think they have got; and that they who propose what is least solid are, more than others, used to barter what they offer in an obscure and doubtful light, that they may more easily swell the sails of their vanity. But he thought that he

bearing himself as a leader, but bringing and scattering light from nature herself, so that there may be no future need of a leader. But as time meanwhile glides away, and he has been more engaged in business than he wished; it seems a long work; especially when he considers the uncertainty of life, and pants to lay up something in safety. It therefore seemed to him that something simpler might be proposed which, though not uttered to the many, might perchance at least be sufficient to preserve so salutary a matter from abortion. And after considering the matter, and weighing it long and attentively, it seemed to him the best way that tables of invention, or formulæ of just inquisition, that is, a mass of particulars, arranged for the work of the understanding, should be offered in some subjects, by way of an exemplar and almost visible description of the work. For nothing can be found to place in a clearer light the right road or the wanderings of error; or show more plainly that what is offered is but words: nor which would be more carefully avoided by the man who either mistrusted his scheme, or desired it to be caught at and celebrated above its deserts. But, if it is not allowed him to complete his designs, as there are nevertheless human minds of a strong and lofty character, it may be that, even without more assistance, taking the hint from what is offered, they may be able to look for and master the rest of themselves. For he is almost of opinion (as some one said) that this will be enough for the wise, though even more would not be for the dull. But he saw that it would be too abrupt to begin his teaching with the tables themselves; and, therefore, that he should say something suitable by way of preface, which he thinks he has now done, and that all which has been hitherto said leads only thither. Lastly, he saw that, if any good be found in what has been or shall be said, it should be dedicated as the fat of the sacrifice to God, and to men in God's similitude, who procure the good of mankind by true affection and benevolence.

G. W.

OF THE

PRINCIPLES AND ORIGINS OF NATURE,

ACCORDING TO THE FABLES OF CUPID AND HEAVEN:

OR, THE

PHILOSOPHY OF PARMENIDES, TELESIUS, AND PARTICULARLY OF DEMOCRITUS, AS EXHIBITED IN THE FABLE CONCERNING CUPID.

THE fables of the ancients repecting Cupid or certain light of the Divine Word has shone Love, cannot be made to agree in one and the upon men. That chaos therefore which was same person. They indeed profess to speak of coeval with Cupid, signified the confused and two Cupids of two different periods, the one the disordered mass or collection of matter. But most ancient of the gods, the other of a much matter itself, with its power and nature, in a later era. At present we will treat of the ancient word, the elements of things were shadowed out Cupid. They relate that this Cupid was the in Cupid himself. He is introduced without a most ancient of the gods, and therefore of all parent, that is, without a cause: for cause is, as things, excepting chaos, which is said to have it were, the parent of effect; and in tropical disbeen coeval with him. This Cupid had no pa- course nothing is therefore more usual than for rent, but being united to heaven, was the father the parent to stand for cause, and the offspring of the gods and of all things. Some indeed for effect. But there cannot be in nature (for we would derive him from an egg over which Night always except God) any cause of the first matbrooded. Different atttributes are ascribed to ter, and of its proper influence and action, for him, so that he is represented as a boy blind, there is nothing prior in time to the first matter. naked, winged, and armed with darts. His Therefore there is no efficient nor any thing more chief and especial influence is over the uniting known to nature; there is therefore neither genus of bodies. To him were given the keys of the nor form. Wherefore whatever primitive matterearth, the sea, and the sky. Another and younger is, together with its influence and action, it is sui Cupid is also celebrated in fable, the son of Ve- generis, and admits of no definition drawn from nus. To him are ascribed the attributes of the perception, and is to be taken just as it is found, ancient Cupid, besides many peculiar to himself. and not to be judged of from any preconceived This fable, with the sequel respecting heaven, idea. For the mode of it, if it is given to us to seems to embrace in a concise parable the doc- know it, cannot be judged of by means of its trine of the elements of things and of the origin cause, seeing that it is, next to God, the cause of of the world, and to agree with that of Demo- causes, itself without a cause. For there is a critus, except that it appears somewhat closer, certain real limit of causes in nature, and it more reasonable, and clearer. For the observa- would argue levity and inexperience in a philosotions of that confessedly acute and accurate pher to require or imagine a cause for the last philosopher nevertheless were of a too diffusive and positive power and law of nature, as much nature, and did not seem to keep their proper as it would not to demand a cause in those that limit, and to confine and support themselves suffi- are subordinate. ciently. And indeed these dogmas, which lie On this account the ancients have fabled Cupid veiled in the parable, although better regulated, to be without a parent, that is, without a cause. are yet of such a nature as to appear to have come And they did so not without design. Nay, perfrom the mind left to itself, and not uniformly haps there is not any thing more important; for and gradually assisted by experience; for this nothing has more corrupted philosophy than the seems to have been the common fault of antiqui- seeking after the parents of Cupid; I mean, that ty. But it must first be remarked, that the opi-philosophers have not received and embraced the nions brought forward in this part of my treatise elements of things as they are found in nature, as were the conclusions and productions of unassist- a certain fixed and positive doctrine, and as it ed reason, and rested on perception alone, the were by an experimental trust in them; but have failing and imperfect oracles of which are de- | rather deduced them from the laws of words, and servedly rejected, now that the higher and more from dialectics and slight mathematical conclu