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Another reprehension of this colour is, in respect of the well bearing of evils wherewith a man can charge nobody but himself, which maketh them the less. "Leve fit quod bene fertur onus."

A third reprehension is, because evil approacheth | that to accuse a man's self, and best of all to accuse to good sometimes for concealment, sometimes for neither. protection; and good to evil for conversion and reformation. So hypocrisy draweth near to religion for covert, and hiding itself; "sæpe latet vitium proximitate boni:" and sanctuary-men, which were commonly inordinate men and malefactors, were wont to be nearest to priests and prelates, and holy men; for the majesty of good things is such as the confines of them are reverend. On the other side, our Saviour, charged with nearness of publicans and rioters, said, "the physician approacheth the sick, rather than the whole."

VIII.

And therefore many natures that are either extremely proud, and will take no fault to themselves, or else very true and cleaving to themselves, when they see the blame of any thing that falls out ill must light upon themselves, have no other shift but to bear it out well, and to make the least of it; for as we see when sometimes a fault is committed, and before it be known who is to blame, much ado is made of it; but after, if it appear to be done by a

Quod quis culpâ suá contraxit, majus malum: quod son, or by a wife, or by a near friend, then it is light ab externis imponitur, minus malum.

The reason is, because the sting and remorse of the mind accusing itself doubleth all adversity: contrariwise, the considering and recording inwardly, that a man is clear and free from fault and just imputation, doth attemper outward calamities. For if the evil be in the sense, and in the conscience both, there is a gemination of it; but if evil be in the one, and comfort in the other, it is a kind of compensation: so the poets in tragedies do make the most passionate lamentations, and those that forerun final despair, to be accusing, questioning, and torturing of a man's life.

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Seque unum clamat causamque caputque malorum.” And contrariwise, the extremities of worthy persons have been annihilated in the consideration of their own good deserving. Besides, when the evil cometh from without, there is left a kind of evaporation of grief, if it come by human injury, either by indignation, and meditating of revenge from ourselves, or by expecting or fore-conceiving that Nemesis and retribution will take hold of the authors of our hurt: or if it be by fortune or accident, yet there is left a kind of expostulation against the divine powers;

"Atque deos atque astra vocat crudelia mater." But where the evil is derived from a man's own fault, there all strikes deadly inwards, and suffocateth. The reprehension of this colour is, first in respect of hope, for reformation of our faults is in nostrâ potestate; but amendment of our fortune simply is not. Therefore, Demosthenes, in many of his orations, saith thus to the people of Athens: "That which having regard to the time past is the worst point and circumstance of all the rest; that as to the time to come is the best: what is that? Even this, that by your sloth, irresolution, and misgovernment, your affairs are grown to this declination and decay. For had you used and ordered your means and forces to the best, and done your parts every way to the full, and, notwithstanding, your matters should have gone backward in this manner as they do, there had been no hope left of recovery or reparation; but since it hath been only by your own errors," &c. So Epictetus in his degrees saith, The worst state of man is to accuse external things, better than

made of: so much more when a man must take it upon himself. And therefore it is commonly seen, that women that marry husbands of their own choosing against their friends' consents, if they be never so ill used, yet you seldom see them complain, but set a good face on it.

IX.

Quod operá et virtute nostrá partum est, majus bonum; quod ab alieno beneficio vel ab indulgentiá fortuna delatum est, minus bonum.

The reasons are, first, the future hope, because in the favours of others, or the good winds of fortune, we have no state or certainty; in our endeavours or abilities we have. So as when they have purchased us one good fortune, we have them as ready, and better edged, and inured to procure another.

The forms be: You have won this by play, You have not only the water, but you have the receipt, you can make it again if it be lost, &c.

Next, because these properties which we enjoy by the benefit of others, carry with them an obligation, which seemeth a kind of burden; whereas the others, which derive from themselves, are like the freest patents, "absque aliquo inde reddendo;" and if they proceed from fortune or providence, yet they seem to touch us secretly with the reverence of the divine powers, whose favours we taste, and therefore work a kind of religious fear and restraint : whereas in the other kind, that comes to pass which the prophet speaketh, "lætantur et exultant, immolant plagis suis, et sacrificant reti suo."

Thirdly, because that which cometh unto us without our own virtue, yieldeth not that commendation and reputation; for actions of great felicity may draw wonder, but praise less; as Cicero said to Caesar, "Quæ miremur, habemus; quæ laudemus, expectamus."

Fourthly, because the purchases of our own industry are joined commonly with labour and strife, which gives an edge and appetite, and makes the fruition of our desires more pleasant. Suavis cibus à venatu.

On the other side, there be four counter colours to this colour, rather than reprehensions, because they be as large as the colour itself. First, because

felicity seemeth to be a character of the favour and whit, as never the better, &c. It is reprehended love of the divine powers, and accordingly worketh also in respect of that notion, "Corruptio unius, both confidence in ourselves, and respect and autho-generatio alterius:" so that gradus privationis is rity from others. And this felicity extendeth to many casual things, whereunto the care or virtue of man cannot extend, and therefore seemeth to be a larger good; as when Cæsar said to the sailor, "Cæsarem portas et fortunam ejus," if he had said, "et virtutem ejus," it had been small comfort against a tempest, otherwise than if it might seem upon merit to induce fortune.

Next, whatsoever is done by virtue and industry, seems to be done by a kind of habit and art, and therefore open to be imitated and followed; whereas felicity is inimitable: so we generally see, that things of nature seem more excellent than things of art, because they be inimitable: for "quod imitabile est, potentiâ quâdam vulgatum est."

Thirdly, felicity commendeth those things which come without our own labour; for they seem gifts, and the other seem pennyworths: whereupon Plutarch saith elegantly of the acts of Timoleon, who was so fortunate, compared with the acts of Agesilaus and Epaminondas; that they were like Homer's verses, they ran so easily and so well. And therefore it is the word we give unto poesy, terming it a happy vein, because facility seemeth ever to come from happiness.

Fourthly, this same præter spem, vel præter expectatum, doth increase the price and pleasure of many things: and this cannot be incident to those things that proceed from our own care and compass.

X.

Gradus privationis major videtur, quam gradus diminutionis; et rursus gradus inceptionis major videtur, quam gradus incrementi.

It is a position in the mathematics, that there is no proportion between somewhat and nothing, therefore the degree of nullity and quiddity or act, seemeth larger than the degrees of increase and decrease; as to a monoculus it is more to lose one eye than to a man that hath two eyes. So if one have lost divers children, it is more grief to him to lose the last, than all the rest; because he is spes gregis. And therefore Sibylla, when she brought her three books, and had burned two, did double the whole price of both the other, because the burning of that had been gradus privationis, and not diminutionis.

This colour is reprehended first in those things, the use and service whereof resteth in sufficiency, competency, or determinate quantity: as if a man be to pay one hundred pounds upon a penalty, it is more to him to want twelve pence, than after that twelve pence supposed to be wanting to want ten shillings more; so the decay of a man's estate seems to be most touched in the degree, when he first grows behind, more than afterwards, when he proves nothing worth. And hereof the common forms are, "Sera in fundo parsimonia," and, As good never a

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many times less matter, because it gives the cause and motive to some new course. As when Demosthenes reprehended the people for hearkening to the conditions offered by king Philip, being not honourable nor equal, he saith they were but aliments of their sloth and weakness, which if they were taken away, necessity would teach them stronger resolutions. So Doctor Hector was wont

to say to the dames of London, when they complained they were they could not tell how, but yet they could not endure to take any medicine; he would tell them, their way was only to be sick, for then they would be glad to take any medicine.

Thirdly, this colour may be reprehended, in respect that the degree of decrease is more sensitive than the degree of privation; for in the mind of man gradus diminutionis may work a wavering between hope and fear, and so keep the mind in suspense, from settling and accommodating in patience and resolution. Hereof the common forms are, Better eye out than always ache; Make or mar, &c.

For the second branch of this colour, it depends upon the same general reason: hence grew the common place of extolling the beginning of every thing: "dimidium facti qui bene cœpit habet." This made the astrologers so idle as to judge of a man's nature and destiny, by the constellation of the moment of his nativity or conception. This colour is reprehended, because many inceptions are but, as Epicurus termeth them, tentamenta, that is, imperfect offers and essays, which vanish and come to no substance without an iteration; so as in such cases the second degree seems the worthiest, as the bodyhorse in the cart, that draweth more than the forehorse. Hereof the common forms are, The second blow makes the fray, the second word makes the bargain; "Alter malo principium dedit, alter modum abstulit," etc. Another reprehension of this colour is in respect of defatigation, which makes perseverance of greater dignity than inception : for chance or instinct of nature may cause inception; but settled affection, or judgment, maketh the continuance.

Thirdly, This colour is reprehended in such things, which have a natural course and inclination contrary to an inception. So that the inception is continually evacuated and gets no start; but there behoveth "perpetua inceptio;" as in the common form, "Non progredi est regredi, Qui non proficit deficit:" running against the hill; rowing against the stream, &c. For if it be with the stream or with the hill, then the degree of inception is more than all the

rest.

Fourthly, This colour is to be understood of "gradus inceptionis a potentiâ ad actum, comparatus cum gradu ab actu ad incrementum." For otherwise "major videtur gradus ab impotentiâ ad potentiam, quam à potentiâ ad actum."

ESSAYS OR COUNSELS

CIVIL AND MORAL.

TO MR. ANTHONY BACON, HIS DEAR BROTHER.

LOVING AND BELOVED BROTHER,

I do now like some that have an orchard ill neighboured, that gather their fruit before it is ripe, to prevent stealing. These fragments of my conceits were going to print; to labour the stay of them had been troublesome, and subject to interpretation; to let them pass had been to adventure the wrong they might receive by untrue copies, or by some garnishment which it might please any that should set them forth to bestow upon them. Therefore I held it best discretion to publish them myself, as they passed long ago from my pen, without any farther disgrace than the weakness of the author. And as I did ever hold, there might be as great a vanity in retiring and withdrawing men's conceits, except they be of some nature, from the world, as in obtruding them; so in these particulars I have played myself the inquisitor, and find nothing to my understanding in them contrary or infectious to the state of religion or manners, but rather, as I suppose, medicinable. Only I disliked now to put them out, because they will be like the late new half-pence, which though the silver were good, yet the pieces were small. But since they would not stay with their master, but would needs travel abroad, I have preferred them to you that are next myself; dedicating them, such as they are, to our love, in the depth whereof, I assure you, I sometimes wish your infiri..ities translated upon myself, that her majesty might have the service of so active and able a mind; and I might be with excuse confined to these contemplations and studies, for which I am fittest: so commend I you to the preservation of the divine Majesty.

Your entire loving Brother,

From my chamber at Gray's-Inn,

this 30th of January, 1597.

FRAN. BACON.

TO MY LOVING BROTHER, SIR JOHN CONSTABLE, KNIGHT.

My last Essays I dedicated to my dear brother, Mr. Anthony Bacon, who is with God. Looking amongst my papers this vacation, I found others of the same nature: which if I myself shall not suffer to be lost, it seemeth the world will not, by the often printing of the former. Missing my brother, I found you next; in respect of bond both of near alliance, and of strait friendship and society, and particularly of communication in studies: wherein I must acknowledge myself beholden to you. For as my business found rest in my contemplations, so my contemplations ever found rest in your loving conference and judgment. So wishing you all good, I remain

1612.

Your loving brother and friend,
FRAN. BACON.

TO THE RIGHT HONOURABLE MY VERY GOOD LORD THE DUKE OF BUCKINGHAM, HIS GRACE, LORD HIGH ADMIRAL OF ENGLAND.

EXCELLENT LORD,

Solomon says, "A good name is as a precious ointment;" and I assure myself such will your Grace's name be with posterity. For your fortune and merit both have been eminent: and you have planted things that are like to last. I do now publish my Essays; which of all my other works have been most current for that, as it seems, they come home to men's business and bosoms. I have enlarged them both in number and weight; so that they are indeed a new work. I thought it therefore agreeable to my affection and obligation to your Grace, to prefix your name before them both in English and in Latin : for I do conceive, that the Latin volume of them, being in the universal language, may last as long as books last. My Instauration I dedicated to the king: my History of Henry the Seventh, which I have now also translated into Latin, and my portions of Natural History, to the prince and these I dedicate to your Grace; being of the best fruits, that by the good increase which God gives to my pen and labours I could yield. God lead your Grace by the hand. 1625.

Your Grace's most obliged and faithful servant,
FRAN. ST. ALBAN.

I. OF TRUTH.

love-making, or wooing of it; the knowledge of truth, which is the presence of it; and the belief of truth, which is the enjoying of it; is the sovereign good of human nature. The first creature of God, in the works of the days, was the light of the sense; the last was the light of reason; and his sabbath work ever since is the illumination of his Spirit. First he breathed light upon the face of the matter or chaos; then he breathed light into the face of man; and still he breatheth and inspireth light into the face of his chosen. The poet that beautified the sect, that was otherwise inferior to the rest, saith yet excellently well: "It is a pleasure to stand upon the shore, and to see ships tossed upon the sea: a pleasure to stand in the window of a castle, and to see a battle, and the adventures thereof below: but no pleasure is comparable to the standing upon the vantage ground of truth, a hill not to be commanded, and where the air is always clear and serene; and to see the errors, and wanderings, and mists, and tempests, in the vale below :" so always, that this prospect be with pity, and not with swelling or pride. Certainly it is heaven upon earth, to have a man's mind move in charity, rest in providence, and turn upon the poles of truth.

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

To pass from theological and philosophical truth, to the truth of civil business; it will be acknowledged, even by those that practise it not, that clear and round dealing is the honour of man's nature; and that mixture of falsehood is like allay in coin of gold and silver; which may make the metal work the better, but it embaseth it. For these winding and crooked courses are the goings of the serpent; which goeth basely upon the belly, and not upon the feet. There is no vice that doth so cover a man with shame, as to be found false and perfidious. And therefore Montagne saith prettily, when he inquired the reason, why the word of the lie should be such

a disgrace, and such an odious charge? Saith he, | preparations made it appear more fearful. Better "If it be well weighed, to say that a man lieth, is as much as to say, that he is brave towards God, and a coward towards men. For a lie faces God, and shrinks from man." Surely the wickedness of falsehood, and breach of faith, cannot possibly be so highly expressed, as in that it shall be the last peal to call the judgments of God upon the generations of men it being foretold, that when Christ cometh" he shall not find faith upon the earth."

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II. OF DEATH.

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Men fear death, as children fear to go in the dark and as that natural fear in children is increased with tales, so is the other. Certainly, the contemplation of death, as the wages of sin, and passage to another world, is holy and religious; but the fear of it, as a tribute due unto nature, is weak. Yet in religious meditations, there is sometimes mixture of vanity and of superstition. You shall read in some of the friars' books of mortification, that a man should think with himself, what the pain is, if he have but his finger's end pressed or tortured; and thereby imagine what the pains of death are, when the whole body is corrupted and dissolved; when many times death passeth with less pain than the torture of a limb: for the most vital parts are not the quickest of sense. And by him that spake only as a philosopher, and natural man, it was well said, "Pompa mortis magis terret, quam mors ipsa." Groans, and convulsions, and a discoloured face, and friends weeping, and blacks, and obsequies, and the like, show death terrible. It is worthy the observing, that there is no passion in the mind of man so weak, but it mates and masters the fear of death: and therefore death is no such terrible enemy, when a man hath so many attendants about him, that can win the combat of him. venge triumphs over death; love slights it; honour aspireth to it; grief flieth to it; fear pre-occupateth it; nay, we read, after Otho the emperor had slain himself, pity, which is the tenderest of affections, provoked many to die, out of mere compassion to their sovereign, and as the truest sort of followers. Nay, Seneca adds, niceness and satiety; "cogita quamdiu eadem feceris; mori velle, non tantum fortis, aut miser, sed etiam fastidiosus potest." A man would die, though he were neither valiant nor miserable, only upon a weariness to do the same thing so oft over and over. It is no less worthy to observe, how little alteration in good spirits the approaches of death make; for they appear to be the same men till the last instant. Augustus Cæsar died in a compliment; "Livia, conjugii nostri memor vive, et vale." Tiberius in dissimulation, as Tacitus saith of him; "Jam Tiberium vires et corpus, non dissimulatio, deserebant." Vespasian in a jest, sitting upon the stool; "Ut puto, deus fio." Galba with a sentence; "Feri, si ex re sit populi Romani ;" holding forth his neck. Septimius Severus in despatch; "Adeste, si quid mihi restat agendum" and the like. Certainly the Stoics bestowed too much cost upon death, and by their great

saith he, "qui finem vitæ extremum inter munera ponit naturæ.” It is as natural to die, as to be born; and to a little infant, perhaps, the one is as painful as the other. He that dies in an earnest pursuit, is like one that is wounded in hot blood; who, for the time, scarce feels the hurt; and therefore a mind fixt and bent upon somewhat that is good, doth avert the dolours of death: but above all, believe it, the sweetest canticle is, "Nunc dimittis;" when a man hath obtained worthy ends and expectations. Death hath this also; that it openeth the gate to good fame, and extinguisheth envy.-" Extinctus amabitur idem."

III. OF UNITY IN RELIGION.

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

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

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